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ariestrxsh · 2 months ago

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sub!virgin!matt x neighbor!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, innocence corruption, mommy kink, handjob, oral (m!receiving), loss of virginity, unprotected sex, sexualization of religious imagery

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: matt and his dad get into an argument over dinner when he disagrees with the way you're being spoken to, prompting matt to do something a bit out of character.

please don't read this series if you're religious because it might really upset you. the whole basis for this story is that matt is a sweet christian virgin boy who has his innocence corrupted by his dommy mommy neighbor, so don't read if you're not into the plot !

dividers by @/anitalenia

(dedicated to the loml Jules (@submattenthusiast) 💖

Me & U

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

You and Matt were sitting side-by-side at his dining room table while his dad was on the other side of the kitchen, cleaning up a few things while the three of you waited for the lasagna to finish baking.

The mouth-watering scent of garlic and oregano drifted through the air accompanied by the smell of the apple cinnamon candle burning a few feet from you. It had been less than a week since they'd moved in, but their house finally looked lived in, and almost everything that was previously packed away in boxes was now given a place.

"You guys want anything to drink?" His dad asked as he peeked over at the two of you. "You got any beer?" You wondered aloud. "She's kidding, dad!" Matt blurted out, looking at you wide-eyed and gently nudging you with his leg under the table.

His dad let out a laugh. "Sorry, kid. I've only got soda, water, and milk," he relayed, swinging open the door of the fridge as he listed off the options. "I'll have a coke," Matt requested. "I'll have the same," you responded, smiling.

His dad brought over two cans of coke and placed them in front of each of you. "Lasagna's got about ten more minutes, so sit tight," his dad told you. You peered over at the blue-eyed boy next to you, your gaze lingering on his pink, pouty lips.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" Matt innocently asked, reaching up to brush away whatever you were gawking at. "No. You're just so pretty. I can't stop looking at you," you whispered in a sultry voice. Your compliment colored his cheeks a shade of rosey pink.

"This shirt looks really good on you, too. It brings out your eyes," you commented, playing with the hem of the blue fabric. His breath hitched as your hand wandered south, slowly caressing his bulge over his pajama pants. His gaze darted over at you with his mouth hung open in shock and his eyebrows pinched together in a concerned expression.

"Please. Not in front of my dad. He'd be so mad if he found out," Matt softly whined. "Don't worry, baby. I'm not gonna let him find out. Just let me make you feel good," you purred into his ear, squeezing his erection through the cotton material.

Your eyes flickered over to Matt's dad, who was still in the kitchen with his back turned to the two of you as he loaded the dishwasher. You smirked back over at Matt as your fingers slithered into his waistband until you wrapped them firmly around his throbbing cock, setting it free from the restrictive fabric.

"Yes, mommy," he submitted to you, the words rolling off his tongue in a breathy moan. "Shhh," you held your finger up to your upturned lips. He nodded, relaxing into the chair and letting his stare drop to the movement of the red table cloth that was concealing your little secret.

"You're a naughty boy, aren't you? Letting me touch you under the table," you cooed, looking into his dreamy, blue eyes and his blissed out expression. He caught his bottom lip between his pearly-white teeth as he bit back a whimper, staring back at you. He weakly nodded, sinking into his pleasure.

His heart raced, worried the two of you would he caught, but a part of him liked the adrenaline rush. He could already feel the knot in his stomach taking form. "Naughty, naughty boy," you repeated softly in his ear as you brought him to the edge, knowing how much he loved being called that.

Just when it looked like he couldn't take much more, you slowed your movements to a stop. His dick throbbed in your grasp, silently begging you to keep going. "Please. So close," he whispered.

"Not yet. I wanna take my time," you cruelly responded, denying him relief. He shot you a desperate look that said, right now? You want to take your time right now? In this situation? But the only words that drifted from his pouty lips was a quiet, "You're crazy." He meant it as a compliment, of course, and you took it as such.

The sound of plates, coffee mugs, and silverware clanking around drowned out the sweet sounds he made. You flashed him a mischevious grin as you circled the sensitive tip with your thumb, intensifying his pleasure. His head gently fell back, and he emitted another soft whine.

"Dinner's ready," Matt's dad's voice broke through the sexual tension as he headed in your direction with two plates. Matt sat up in his chair, straightening his back and clearing his throat. He slowed his breathing, trying to be inconspicuous about what was being done to him under the table.

"Thanks, dad," he managed to squeak out. "Would you like to say the prayer before we dig in?" Matt's dad asked you as he sat across from you two with his own plate. "You know, I'll be honest, I don't pray much," you admitted to his dad.

"Can you show me how to, Matt? I know how hard you pray every night," you smirked over at the sweet, shy boy to your right as the images of him getting down on his knees flickered through your mind. He glanced over at you, wide-eyed while you continued slowly stroking his length beneath the table, every now and again brushing your thumb over his swollen head.

"I-I don't know. Maybe you could say the prayer, dad," Matt stammered, tightly gripping the seat of his chair. "Why don't you wanna say the prayer, Matt?" His father asked, furrowing his brow. "Yeah, what is it, Matt? You feel guilty about something?" You quietly mumbled beside him, only loud enough for him to hear.

"O-okay. I'll say the prayer," Matt agreed, swallowing the lump in his throat, interlocking his fingers, and lowering his gaze to the movement happening underneath the tablecloth. Matt's father lowered his head and closed his eyes, and you followed his lead, periodically peeling open an eye to peek over at Matt and the way he reacted to your touch.

"Lord," Matt said, wetting his lips. "Thank you, Lord, for providing for us," Matt started to pray, but quickly needed to bite back a whine. You watched as his dick print showed through the cloth, precum trickling from his tip and leaving a wet stain on the red fabric.

The sensation of your hand pumping his shaft while his cockhead rubbed against the silky material sent him into a blissful state that nearly made him forget what he was doing, but he quickly directed himself back to his train of thought.

"Thank you for blessing this food. May it s-strengthen and nourish our b-bodies," he managed to get through his sentence without sounding any more nervous than usual. "Thank you. In Jesus' name, amen," he hurried to finish the prayer. "Amen," you and Matt's dad said in unison.

Right as Matt's father was about to start eating, his phone started to ring. "I gotta take this. Excuse me," he apologetically pardoned himself as he picked up. "Hello?" His voice drifted off as he made his way to the other room.

"You almost let me get you off during the prayer, didn't you, naughty boy?" You purred, yanking on Matt's hair with your free hand and burying his face into your chest, his strangled moans dampened by your breasts. "Come on, Matt. You gotta hurry up. Cum for mommy," you whispered, raking through his hair with your fingers.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, looked up at you with his big, blue eyes and nodded, giving himself over to the desire that overtook him. His cock twitched in your grasp as you fervently pumped away, a sticky white fluid erupting from it and dousing your hand.

His whole body shivered, and he buried his face into your bosom like an embarrassed little boy. "That was amazing," you murmured, rustling his brown locks and kissing him on the forehead. "That felt so good," he told you, taking a napkin off the table to wipe himself off with.

"I need to go wash my hands," you chuckled, getting up from your seat and darting off over to the sink to clean off the evidence. You took Matt's dirty napkin with you and chucked it into the trash.

Humiliation tinted his pink cheeks as he called his breath back to him, his chest rising and falling with every labored inhale and exhale. "You're crazy, you know that?" Matt smirked at you, quickly tucking his dick back into his pants. "I know," you flashed him a cheeky smile and washed your hands.

As soon as you sat back down, Matt's dad came back in through the door. "Sorry about that. You guys didn't have to wait for me to start eating," he said, motioning towards your untouched plates. "Oh, we didn't mind," you replied, holding back a giggle, concealing the real reason why you hadn't started digging into your lasagna yet. Matt blushed, biting back a grin as he peered over at you, still trying to catch his breath.

"So, Matt tells me you like classic rock," Matt's dad started off, opening up conversation before taking a bite of his lasagna. "I do. Blue Öyster Cult, Led Zeppelin, The Doors, AC/DC, stuff like that," you responded.

"Is that the stuff your parents listen to?" He asked. "Oh, no. They hate it. That's why I started listening to it," you laughed. Matt's dad cleared his throat, glanced over at Matt, and turned his attention back to you.

"So, do you go to church?" Matt's dad asked, changing the subject and hoping you'd say something he liked. "God no. I don't really believe in that kind of thing, but you know, I'll always go if Matt invites me," you replied, reaching over and giving Matt's hand a comforting squeeze.

"Are you open to converting?" His father casually asked, shrugging his shoulders. "Honestly, I couldn't see myself converting, you know? My lifestyle and Christianity don't really agree," you replied with a mouth full of food. "Well, Matt here has always discussed wanting his future wife to be a woman of God," his dad casually mentioned. "Dad," Matt sharply interjected.

"What?" Matt's dad defensively asked. "That's not necessarily what I want. That's w-what y-you want," Matt stuttered, avoiding eye contact with his dad as he stabbed his lasagna with the prongs of his fork. "Where's this coming from, Matt?" His dad asked.

"J-just don't grill her about religion, dad. I like her despite that. D-don't put that kind of pressure on her," Matt said with a shaky voice. Matt's dad was taken aback. Matt wasn't usually the type to dissent from his dad, but he wasn't given much of a reason to until now.

"What's gotten into you, Matt?" His father asked, giving him a disappointed look and crossing his arms over his chest. "N-nothing," Matt replied, shaking his head.

"I think this girl is a bad influence on you," his dad replied, talking about you as if you weren't in the room. Your heart sank. "Ever since the two of you have been hanging out, there's something off about you, Matt. Something different. I don't know if I like it," Matt's dad said. Matt sat in silence, picking at his food but not eating any of it.

"What are your intentions with my son?" His dad asked, peering at you from across the table, setting down his silverware and interlocking his fingers to show you how serious he was.

The truth was, the first day you'd laid eyes on Matt, your intentions were simply to sleep with him, and your thought process didn't go much further than that. However, after getting to know him and spending time with him, the way you felt about him became more convoluted.

"I just want to make him happy," you shrugged, peering over at Matt who smiled back. You weren't sure what answer either of them were looking for, and to be honest, you hadn't pondered that question much yourself, so you were somewhat surprised at your own answer when it fell from your lips. Matt's dad remained unconvinced.

"If you wanna make him happy, maybe you should leave him alone and let him find a good Christian girl," his dad blurted out. You clenched your jaw. You felt a mix of anguish and rage as the words left his mouth.

"Are you serious, dad? You can't just say that to my girlfriend," Matt shot back, getting up from his chair and grabbing your hand. You and Matt hadn't discussed labels or anything, but the way he was standing up for you and referring to you as his girlfriend turned you on a bit.

"C'mon. You don't have to listen to this," Matt said to you as you both started to head towards his front door. "Where do you think you're going?" His dad called out after the two of you. "Out," Matt huffed without looking back, slamming the door shut behind him.

You and Matt stepped outside, feeling the cool air as it rushed over your hot skin. It was a testament to the ever-changing seasons, summer hanging on by a thread as autumn began to take its place. In the same way, the day was fading, the sun sinking low into the evening sky.

"Holy shit," you said in disbelief, completely stunned by the way Matt had spoken to his father. "I've never talked to him like that before," Matt whispered, glancing at you with a dazed look on his face.

"Did it feel good?" You wondered, your lips curling into a smile. "It did," Matt nodded after a long exhale. "C'mon. Let's go hide in my treehouse until he cools down," you suggested, grabbing Matt by the collar of his shirt and pulling him into your backyard.

"I'm really sorry he said all of that," Matt apologized to you once the two of you were perched side-by-side in your treehouse as you sprinkled weed into your rolling paper.

"Listen. You don't have to try to make me feel better. I wouldn't want my good little Christian son hanging out with a girl like me either," you snorted, flicking your lighter and feeling the warmth of the fire as you held it up to the end of your joint.

Matt watched as the flame engulfed the paper and lit up your facial features. The scent of marijuana filled the air. You blew out a plume of smoke and watched it dissipate against the pink and orange sky as the sun started to fade out of view.

"I'm scared to go home," Matt whispered, flashing you a look of vulnerability. "We can stay here as long as you want," you assured him, handing him the joint. He leaned his head against your shoulder as he took a puff and slowly exhaled, feeling the anxiety and worry float away with the smoke he blew out into the atmosphere.

"Can I ask you something?" You wondered, only realizing after you'd asked how redundant it was to ask if you could ask a question. "Sure," Matt timidly responded, passing the joint back to you.

"Did you mean it back there when you called me your girlfriend?" You asked, aimlessly ashing the joint off to the side. "I'm sorry. I know we haven't talked about it-" Matt started to say, but you cut him off. "I wanna be your girlfriend," you inserted.

"Y-you do?" Matt stammered, his pretty blue eyes raising to meet yours as a swarm of butterflies fluttered around in his stomach. You nodded and smiled. The two of you sat quietly for a few minutes, passing the joint back and forth until you felt the tension from earlier in the night leave your body.

"I just want to do something that'll make him mad," Matt told you, shaking his head as he replayed the way his father had spoken so brazenly to you. "How mad?" You asked, raising an eyebrow and handing the joint over again. He took it from you and took a long drag, the chery end crackling as he pulled from it.

"Something that'll really piss him off," Matt confessed to you. He'd never had this urge before, to purposefully do something his dad didn't want him to do out of pure spite. You took the joint back from Matt as your lips shifted into a smug grin.

"I bet it would piss him off if I got his innocent son high and fucked him in my treehouse, wouldn't it?" You cooed, your voice thick with lust. You held intense eye contact as you took one final drag from the joint and put it out.

"Oh, he'd be so mad if I knew I gave it up to a slut like you," he whispered, knowing how much you loved being called that. A flash of desire seeped into his expression. Your panties started to cling to your wet folds as you imagined corrupting the sweet boy beside you.

"Well, then let's make him livid," you seductively whispered, letting your fingertips crawl up his chest. He slowly nodded, his shaky breath growing shallow. You snaked your hand around his neck, firmly grasping it, not enough to choke him - just enough to excite him and test the waters.

You pressed your lips up against his, eliciting a soft moan from Matt as your tongue slipped into his mouth. You grew more aggressive in your touch, slightly squeezing your fingers around the boy's neck in a gesture of dominance as you bit down on his plump lips, leaving them tender and bruised once you were done. He was left with a warm, excited feeling as blood rushed to his cock.

"You know. The way you stood up for me back there? It was super hot. I wanted to knock everything off your kitchen table and fuck you on it," you whispered against his mouth, guiding him to lay back as you pinned him to the floor of your treehouse.

"Yeah? You liked that?" He asked, looking up at you wide-eyed, his chest heaving with every breath as he anticipated your next move. "I fucking loved it," you purred into his ear before you pulled back.

You started tugging down his pajama pants and his boxers, and his cock eagerly sprung out as you set him free. You could see precum was already drooling from his slit, and the cool breeze blowing over his tip made him shudder in delight. You grabbed ahold of it, firmly holding it in your grip, just barely unable to close your fist around its girth. Matt bit his lip as you did this.

"So big," you whispered, licking your lips and staring at it in the glow of the stringed lights that hugged the branches of your treehouse. "Really?" Matt asked, propping himself up on his elbows and peering down at the way your fingers were wrapped around it.

"Yeah, trust me. I've seen a lot. This one is big," you smirked up at him. "I didn't know," Matt replied, trying to hold back a grin, liking the idea that he had a big dick. You started gently working your hand up and down on Matt's length, coaxing a few moans from his lips.

You loved the idea of being the first person to ever touch Matt's most intimate places and to be the first to ever make him sound like that. You lowered your mouth and wrapped your lips around his sensitive head, saltiness filling your taste buds.

"Oh!" Matt softly moaned. His cock jerked at the unexpected sensation of your warm, soft tongue grazing the underside of his tip. You started lightly suckling on it, which drove Matt crazy. "Wow," Matt whispered, completely blown away by the feeling. You went slow and gentle, learning every vein and every ridge with your tongue.

"Your mouth.." Matt started to say, but his voice trailed off. "What is it, baby? Say it," you purred. "It feels sooo good," he whimpered, holding a strand of your hair out of the way. You hummed against his cock, slowly moving your mouth up and down on his length as you circled his tip your tongue.

"Mommy," he squealed, gripping the fabric of the back of your shirt until his fingers started to cramp up. You bobbed your head and up down faster, listening closely to the pretty sounds he made as he discovered for the first time how much he liked getting head.

He laid back and sank into the floorboards beneath him, giving himself over to your soft, velvety mouth. He entangled his fingers into your hair and gently pulled you further down onto his twitching cock. His tip tickled the back of your throat, and he started subtly bucking his hips up to get as much as he could out of the sensation of having his dick buried between your lips.

He curled his toes until they started going numb. A slew of needy moans and soft cries unfurled from his pink lips as he tossed his head back and screwed his eyes shut. You slowly slid back up his shaft, slipping him out of your mouth before he could finish.

"I knew you'd love that," you whispered, smiling up at him as you started undoing the button on your jeans. "I did, but you always stop when I'm so close," he replied, propping himself up on his arms again. That's when he noticed you slipping out of your pants. Then your panties. You took the lace garment and slingshot it in his direction.

"That's because I'm about to make you feel even better than I did with my mouth," you seductively responded, straddling him and hovering right over his pink tip. Matt peered down as you lined him up with your entrance and made his length disappear inside you. His jaw dropped, and his facial expression softened as you lowered yourself onto him.

"You're so wet," he whimpered as he felt you stretch around him. "It's all your fault," you replied, pulling your top off over your head and revealing your perfect tits to him before you grabbed both of his wrists and pinned them above his head. "So pretty," he whispered, staring at your breasts in the glow of the fairy lights strewn around the room.

Matt loved the way you took charge. He loved that you knew exactly what you wanted and that you unapologetically took it from him. The sensation of your cunt clenching around his cock as you started bouncing up and down on it had him seeing stars.

He knitted his eyebrows together, pleasure wrinkling his expression as he let his head fall back against the floor with a soft thump. A loud, satisfied "fuuuck," poured from his lips.

"Naughty boy. I've never heard you say that word before," you said in a breathy moan as you smirked. "Can't help it, mommy. Your pussy feels so fucking good," Matt whispered, watching the way your tits jiggled as you picked up speed.

You were shocked but turned on by the foul language he was using as you continued rolling your hips forward, finding your rhythm. "I wonder what your dad would think of you right now. I bet he'd be so mad that you're swearing," you maliciously smiled down at him, knowing that would probably be the least of his concerns.

He struggled against the way you restrained his wrists just to see what would happen, and his cock throbbed inside of you as you tightened your hold on them. "You like that?" You asked, feeling the way the sweet boy squirmed around beneath you. "Yes, mommy," a strangled moan fell from his lips.

"You're such a naughty boy, aren't you?" You asked, arching your back and angling his cock deep inside of you in a way that felt incredible for both of you. You released his wrists, and your hand flew to your clit, rubbing it in fast, tight circles.

You threw your head back as you approached your orgasm. Matt watched in awe as you fell apart on his cock, your whole body trembling as dopamine and oxytocin flooded your system. Your thighs were burning, and your knees ached from the hard wood beneath you, but you powered through.

You finished yourself off, your walls rhythmically throbbing around Matt's dick and sending him over the edge shortly after. "Oh fuck," he whimpered, feeling his cock tighten and twitch as you rode him wildly. His eyes rolled back into his head and his jaw fell open as he pumped you full of his cum.

He submitted to the earth-shattering pleasure that rippled through him and overpowered him, like being swallowed by a series of cascading waves, each one topping the last. You slowed the movement of your hips and came to a stop once you were sure you'd both finished.

The two of you gazed longingly into each other's eyes under the blanket of stars as your breaths slowly returned to both of you. Four days. Four days was all it took for him to fall in love with you. He'd known you for four days, and he had just crossed a line with you that he hadn't even crossed in his three-year-long relationship with May.

You leaned down while he was still inside of you, grabbed his jaw, and gave him a long, passionate kiss. Matt couldn't get enough of you. He loved your soft lips, your smooth skin, and the way you always tasted a bit like weed. You filled his senses, leaving him feeling almost delirious.

He chuckled against your mouth mid-kiss. "What is it?" You asked, caressing his flushed, pink face that was coated in a light layer of sweat. "I can't believe we just did that. That was the best orgasm I've ever had," Matt admitted.

"Me too," you said, nibbling on your bottom lip. "I thought you said you've had sex with a lot of people before," Matt gave you a skeptical look. "I have, but I don't know. This was just better for some reason," you confessed, shrugging a shoulder. You knew it was because this was the first time such deep feelings were involved, but you didn't want to say it out loud and risk sounding stupid.

You didn't have to say it. Matt understood. He bit back a smile. You peppered his face in light kisses, whispering praises to him about how good he felt and how much you loved him. He stared back at you with his glossy, bedroom eyes and his fucked out expression.

"If I ever have to move away again, I'm taking you with me."

Matt walked home late that night, the thirty feet from your treehouse to his front door, his mind flooded with thoughts of you, hoping he could just sneak in without alerting his dad. He quietly turned the knob, stepped inside, and shut it, making sure not to trigger the sound of the latch.

When Matt spun around, his dad was sitting at the kitchen table in the soft glow of the candle that was burning down to the wick. It was like he hadn't moved since Matt had left, as if he had been waiting for him to come home and scold him.

Matt swallowed the knot in his throat, his palms beginning to sweat. He was certain if his dad turned on a main light, he'd see his bloodshot eyes and his dilated pupils. Thankfully, he didn't. He kept it short and sweet. He let out a defeated sigh before he spoke.

"Son. I'm sorry. I had no right to talk to your friend that way," he started off. "Girlfriend," Matt corrected him. "I didn't even know you guys had made anything official yet. I feel like you don't tell me things anymore," his dad said in response.

"We just decided tonight," Matt muttered, avoiding direct eye contact with his dad. "Well, either way. I'm sorry. I understand if you're upset with me. Your girlfriend is welcome over whenever, and I'll apologize to her, too the next time I see her."

Matt narrowed his eyes and glanced over at his dad, wondering where the sudden change of heart had come from. "Just promise me, son, that you'll keep God at the forefront of your relationship and that you won't give into temptation," his dad asked of him.

Matt half-heartedly shrugged and hesitantly nodded. Matt's dad could see the resistance in his response, but he didn't want to pry. "Goodnight, dad," Matt replied before carrying his heavy feet across the kitchen and trudging up the stairs.

He didn't have the heart to tell his dad that he had been questioning things.

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elliewrites77 · 2 months ago

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Uncle!Sukuna Part 2

a/n: thank you so much for the support on the last uncle sukuna post! i apologize if this is short.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6.5, 7

masterlist

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Uncle!Sukuna who doesn't return to your doorstep until around 11 am. This time when you open the door, you are in actual clothes, awake and aware. He sees the curiosity in your eyes as soon as he meets your gaze.

Uncle!Sukuna who, you notice, is wearing the exact same clothes you had seen him in as he dropped off Yuji. You could see the tiredness in the mans eyes, and couldn't help but feel a bit bad he had to handle a work emergency so late. You couldn't help but wonder what it is that he did.

Uncle!Sukuna who still doesn't introduce himself as he asks where his nephew is. You had learned from Yuji, before he had passed out on you couch, that he called him "Uncle Kuna", but as far as you knew, that could've been a nickname.

Uncle!Sukuna who follows you into your house when you tell him that Yuji is playing with your son in the back yard.

You lead him through your home, with him silently taking in the space. It was so...different to his own. Your home looked like it was a space for a parent and a kid, while his looked bland and almost empty. When he had moved into the house for Yuji, he hadn't taken the time to really decorate. The only kid stuff in the house was in Yuji's room, and most of his own things were in his room or boxed up in the garage. So he couldn't help but compare your house to his own, pinpointing all the differences that really make your place a home.

Uncle!Sukuna who raises his brow when he sees Yuji playing around with a kid only a few years older. They were play-fighting, doing some kind of martial arts moves. He was still surprised by Yuji's never fading energy, seeing how he could barely stay still for longer than a minute. He seemed to amuse the older kid though, and you.

Uncle!Sukuna who clears his throat when he realizes you two were just standing there watching the two boys. He looks at you, his usual blank expression in place.

"Thanks." Is all he says. Something about his voice gives you goosebumps, but you ignore that feeling and give him a friendly smile. He would think someone who was woken up so rudely at 2 am would be a little angry, especially when a kid is pushed onto them. But he was glad you weren't complaining. And he really liked your smile.

"Of course. Yuji is sweet, I'm happy I could help. I have to admit, though, this is certainly an interesting way to be introduced to my new neighbors." You tried to joked. You felt a little awkward when his expression didn't change nor did he respond. So, looking back to the two boys, you tried to think of something to say.

Uncle!Sukuna who stares at you for a moment. Something about you makes his chest feel tight, and his mind a little fuzzy. Sure, you're beautiful, but this wasn't simple physical attraction. He couldn't understand what was happening to him and that made him frustrated, annoyed. So he just breaths a breath out of his nose, looking at his young nephew.

Uncle!Sukuna who watches as Yuji's head snaps to look at him as soon as Sukuna calls his name. A grin of excitement, at a level that still surprised Sukuna, took over the boys face. He quickly leaves his new friend, running to stand at his uncles leg and look up at the giant man.

Uncle!Sukuna who doesn't let his newborn affection for his nephew show on his face, simply telling Yuji to say goodbye to you and your son. He pretends to not care when a slight look of disappointment takes over Yuji's face, due to having to leave his new friends.

You notice the look, and crouch to give Yuji a warm smile.

"We live right across the street, Yuji, so you and your Uncle Kuna can stop by anytime." You say, grinning and standing when his excitement returns.

Uncle!Sukuna who realizes then that he never actually introduced himself, and neither did you. He grunts, looking to you again.

"Sukuna." he introduces finally. Apparently he's not much of a talker.

"Hi, Sukuna. I'm y/n." You continued your attempts to be nice, friendly. Clearly he wasn't a conversationalist, and you couldn't read him at all, but that didn't mean you had to mirror his brooding, reserved demeanor.

Uncle!Sukuna who simply nods, grabbing Yuji by the back of his shirt to tug him away, his silent way of saying they were leaving.

Before they can get away though, you turn to look at your son still standing in the yard, observing as usual.

"Oh, wait. Choso, come say goodbye to Yuji and his uncle."

-------

not proofread

I hope you guys enjoy how i incorporated Choso! For my ideas with this lil story, I think this dynamic will be fun to write and work with :) In my au, Yuji is 6 and Choso is about 8.

#jjk #fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #sukuna au #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x fem!reader #jjk x fem!reader #modern sukuna #uncle sukuna #ellie writes #part 2

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fangdokja · 2 months ago

Note

Yandere royal guards plot twist: reader was isekaid into their world and has no idea wtf they’re saying, so thinks being nonchalant is safest when it’s actually making them insane lmao

You got isekai’d. Now three murder machines think your blank stares are divine wisdom.

♡ Yandere! Royal Guards who don’t realize their beloved Sovereign is just some random girl from another world with no clue what’s happening.

♡ Yandere! Royal Guard who prowls at your feet like a starving beast, ears twitching, tail lashing, his grin full of sharp promises. “Sovereign, I’ve torn out the tongues of the palace spies. Their screams were... exquisite.” His voice purrs, expectant, waiting.

You stare blankly. “Ah.”

His pupils dilate. His breath shudders. “...Your restraint is incredible.”

♡ Yandere! Royal Guard who kneels before you, his wings folding like a dying swan’s. “Sovereign, forgive my forwardness, but do you love us?” His angelic eyes shine with desperation, manic with devotion. “You need only say it, and we shall set fire to the world in your name.”

You blink slowly. He is sweating.

“…Sure.”

His breath hitches—his body trembles—his fingers dig into his chest as though holding his heart inside his ribs. “Such… modesty,” he breathes. “To hide your love beneath cold indifference—your restraint is divine.”

♡ Yandere! Royal Guard who glowers from the shadows, a hulking wall of destruction. “Fight me.” His voice grinds like crushed bone, deep and sharp. “Your fists. Now.”

You shake your head. “No thanks.”

His nostrils flare. His hands twitch. “...You are waiting,” he mutters. “You want me to earn it.” His eyes gleam with lethal reverence. “I will not disappoint you.”

You sip your drink. He goes outside. The walls tremble. The ground shakes. The screams of unfortunate trainees echo into the sky.

They don’t know that you, a confused isekai victim, have no idea what they’re saying. They think your apathy is an unfathomable test. Every blank stare fuels their madness.

And the worst part? You’re just trying to stay alive.

────────────

♡ Note. This is NOT canon. Reader is canonically genetically equipped, capable in her position despite the chaos of the Yandere! Royal Guards, and her apathetic personality is really made to be that way. This is a what-if fanfic to the main story. Character banner art belongs to “inplick” and can be found in Instagram. But, it it also official art from a collaboration between Link Click x Sanrio.

♡ A/N. Anon, my request box is closed even for short requests (this isn't an ask, but a request). Also, please read the RULES before making requests. I only allowed this since I do plan on opening Anon requests; but, I haven't made the official announcement. My request box will officially open 2-5 months from now. But... since this can be used for drabbles anyway, fine. Don't expect me to spoil you guys though! I'm already swamped with a lot of long project requests alongside other works. Also, I don't like doing canon-divergent works of my OC's usually, but fine. Short, attempt at humor idea. Seriously. Please read the Rules, I don't like repeating myself.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn , @yuki-istired

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

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ittybittyfanblog · 3 months ago

Text

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 7

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, suggestive themes!, there’s some slight smut… but nothing too graphic (ion rly write smut haha), angst and comfort, this chapter’s brought to you by: a bunch of sad songs on repeat! A/N: 7k+ words what the fuck!! (this might actually be one of my favorite chapters. :’))

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10

“You don’t have a favorite color.”

“I… don’t, no.”

“But you’re quite partial to green.”

“I guess so—?”

“You’ve worn the same green shirt to bed thrice this week,” he notes lightly, pertaining to your Loki: Master of Mischief tee. The corners of his mouth pull into a faint, knowing smile. “It suits you, by the way.”

Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you glance at him, narrowing your eyes in slight embarrassment. “It’s a perfectly comfy shirt,” you reply, a defensive edge to your tone. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Nothing at all,” he agrees reassuringly. “Just making an observation.”

“What, are you keeping a dossier on me now?”

Sylus gives a noncommittal hum, but offers nothing more in response. He keeps watch on you from his usual spot in the corner between the monitor and the CPU box, chin resting on an open palm. His gaze betrays hints of smugness to it.

You eye him weirdly. With a huff, you turn back to your typing.

–

You’re cooking dinner—with Sylus supervising the entire thing like your very own personal sous chef. Something that has now been the norm for you two, since your–banging!–success with the tofu dish.

And for tonight’s menu: Butter noodles. Simple, foolproof, straightforward.

"Simple" is… well, it’s not entirely inaccurate. But the way that the boiling water hisses angrily through the small lid hole wavers the already shaky foundation of your developing culinary confidence.

(Just a little bit! You’re sure you’ve got nothing to worry about.)

A faint burning scent clings to the air; you forgot to stir the garlic early on, and now it looks dangerously close to a char. You rescue it just in time, cursing under your breath. Your sous chef, of course, catches everything. Even your nervousness.

“You know,” Sylus chimes in, watching the wooden spatula tremble in your hand. “This is quite the step up from your usual instant noodle packets. You should be proud of yourself, sweetie.”

“Gee, thanks. Really complex work for an extra half-hour of cooking time,” Your words are snide, but he doesn’t miss the way your grip on the spatula tightens ever-so-slightly. Steadies.

The smell stabilizes. You add half a stick of butter, squashing it to a melt, and he lets the subject drop—for now.

“Do you have siblings?”

“I have an older sister,” you answer distractedly, stirring the sauce and trying to scrape the edges of the sauté pan without having it splatter from the inside.

“How much older?”

“Uh—six years,” you reply, reaching for a pinch of salt. “She's got a family. Two kids. Another on the way.”

“Hm. You two are close?”

You pause, the question landing softly in the haze of rising steam. “I mean. S’ alright, I guess. We catch up over the phone sometimes.”

“Ah. Good.”

“... Yeah.”

You catch a glance of his expression in your peripheral, looking thoughtful.

It’s a recent development, his curiosity. Sporadic at first, like light rain on a windshield—little questions scattered here and there, easy to brush off. But over the past week, it’s grown into something more unrelenting. It’s almost as if you two were playing a round of twenty questions, only it’s just you in the hot seat being interrogated.

There’s also that habit of his to take it one step further. Hedging his questions strategically, acting like he already knows the little factoid he wanted to ask and just needs you to confirm it.

You don’t really get the logic behind it, but hey, who are you to judge? Everybody has their quirks. Even someone of his caliber, apparently.

… God forbid he gets blindsided by something he’s genuinely surprised to know about you, though.

“You know how to play the violin.”

You pause the video you’re watching on your laptop at its five minute mark to stare at Sylus through your phone screen. He sounds… terse? Like you’d intentionally kept this a secret from him.

“Wha—yes, I know how to play the violin,” you huff, incredulous by the show of attitude. “What’s up with all these weird questions?”

“You’ve given me explicit permission to ask them. Level the playing field,” he reminds you, eyes slightly accusatory. “What else are you keeping from me?”

You groan, collapsing onto your back on the couch. “Ugh, I don’t know,” you say sarcastically. “Do you wanna know my time of birth too?”

“Born at exactly twelve twenty-eight PM,” Sylus recites without missing a beat, his voice bored and unimpressed. “I saw it on your Co-Star app, sweetie.”

You freeze.

“…”

“That’s creepy,” you tell him, tone disapproving, giving him a scolding poke on the nose.

“Call it thorough research,” he counters smoothly, rolling his eyes at your feeble attack. “After all, a stubborn kitten’s been slacking on her side of the deal.”

The questions are, for the most part, harmless in nature. Anchored firmly in the mundane. He doesn’t stray too far from what’s comfortable, or what he deems safe to ask. And yet you can sense it beneath the surface: the burning curiosity. To know more of you, to take what he could—piece by piece, until he’s unraveled the puzzle of you entirely.

And you don’t get it. His world—filled with endless adventure, lore, and literal fucking superpowers—surely has to be more exciting than anything you’ve got to offer. What’s your life compared to that?

You said as much to him, mostly as an offhand comment. Although it did feel slightly more earnest when you put it into words, compared to how it sounded in your head.

“Honestly, Sy-Sy. Life here’s really not that interesting compared to all the stuff going on over there,” you told him matter-of-factly, in the middle of collecting your daily rewards. “You don’t have to keep this up, you know.”

Sylus didn’t speak for a moment. The easy nonchalance he wore so well shifted into something more reserved, almost somber. He didn’t challenge what you said, nor did he affirm anything—you're met with silence, loaded with thoughts left unspoken.

“Don’t presume things on your own, little dove,” he said after a while, his voice low, a gentle reprimand.

Before you could even process what he meant by that, he smoothly changed the subject, his tone reverting back to his usual effortless calm as if to ease the weight of your words. “Now then, let’s circle back—what were you saying earlier? You almost drowned in a lake when you were eight? Because of a dare you made with your sister?”

And that was the end of it.

You tell yourself it’s exhausting—the way he keeps digging, prodding, asking questions like you’re worth the level of fascination he’s making you out to be. But there’s also the truth, hidden and tucked beneath your half-hearted protests, slowly unfurling. A part of you—cautiously hopeful, dreadfully fragile—that preens under the weight of his scrutiny.

So you let him press further; let him sift through twenty plus years of tiny, unremarkable fragments of your life like a beachcomber seeking treasures amongst the tide. And in return, he gives you his full attention, undivided and unyielding, as if your answers are the only ones that matter.

––––

He tells you there’s a new tête-à-tête feature in the game, so you check it out—not without giving him a slightly suspicious look.

“A microphone feature?” You snort, leveling him with a half-amused glare. “You already hear me talk all the time.”

Sylus blinks at you, his face a guilefully-crafted mask of innocence. “I’m just giving you the option, sweetie. You know, in case you’d like to put our conversations ‘on record.’”

“Treat you like some kind of… quasi-therapist or something? An online confessional?” You give him the stink eye. “Is that what you’re angling for now?”

He shrugs. “If it helps.”

You had no intention of using the tête-à-tête “feature” you’ve been so graciously offered, quickly dismissing it as just another one of his tactics to show off his capacity to manipulate the game’s code, or something along those lines.

It’s not the first time he’s done it.

But then, midnight comes on a deceptively ordinary Friday, and it’s suffused with an all-too familiar feeling of utter emptiness that drowns you. You’re crumpled on the toilet seat like chewed-up gum, knees pulled to your chest—the day’s wounds still festering. It's not anything new, but it leaves you feeling like shit all the same.

Yet another overtime shift. Yet another argument with your mom, over fuck all you know that you’re too damn old for, but still, still, finds its way to cut deep. Over and over, and over again.

Your phone’s blank screen stares back at you, just as mute and useless as the rest of the night. And you—

“Sweetie?”

You can’t speak. Not yet. But you don’t have to. One look at the exhaustion on your face is enough for Sylus to know exactly what you need.

Your mouth trembles open, then shuts again. He doesn’t say anything else, just waiting for you to make the first move. To start whenever you’re ready.

After a long moment, you finally exhale a shaky breath. That’s when you catch his gaze; fixed, patient, almost... encouraging. It’s a subtle invitation, urging you to take the plunge, to make use of him to an extent only he can provide–the only one he could offer to you at this time–

So, you talk. Tentatively at first, the words slipping out like droplets from your leaking sink faucet. But once the dam breaks, you can't stop.

It spills out. Every frustration, every ache, every moment that feels too much to carry for one person, especially for someone like you, and he… he just—

listens.

You feel drained. Every ounce of energy wrung out of you after unloading the day’s weight to your unexpected confidant.

“That helped, didn’t it?”

If it were anyone else—or if you didn’t know Sylus the way you do now—you’d only catch the smug notes in his voice. The teasing lilt and the airy pretense of someone trying to ease the heaviness out of the room.

But you do hear it. Beneath the surface, woven so subtly into the words… something vulnerable.

You hear the unspoken question behind it: he’s genuinely asking if it helped. If his presence, however small or inconsequential it might seem, was enough to pull you back ashore.

I helped.

Tell me I did.

“You did, Sy.” Your grin is tired, grateful, and a little lopsided. But it’s real. “Thank you.”

For a moment—just a split of a second—the red in his eyes betrays something achingly raw.

“Anytime, darling,” he says, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges, like it’s carrying more than the words themselves. “I mean it.”

And like a beacon of light slicing through the storm-tossed seas of your mind, you realize that he truly does.

____

You start giving Sylus the reins to select the music, trusting his taste enough to let him DJ for you. He picks the soundtrack for everything—cooking, errands, long rides—filling the silence with something that he knows the both of you would like.

The playlists grow. From one, to two, to almost an entire collection of carefully curated tracks to suit the mood and vibe of the day. He takes it seriously—so seriously that you can’t resist sneaking in a Megan Thee Stallion track onto his precious “Slow Evenings” playlist.

He finds it hilarious. Hilarious enough to loop Kitty Kat for all sixty-five minutes of your commute back home.

You laugh despite yourself. It’s exactly the type of shit you know he’d pull as petty retribution, already intimately familiar with his brand of humor. And if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine him beside you, sharing an earbud, smirking as he revels in your exasperation.

____

One night, you notice a weariness in his eyes. It’s an odd enough thing to see that it leads to a discussion on what he’s been up to as the shadowy leader of a notorious faction, deep in a lawless part of his universe.

“Just an operation gone wrong, sweetie,” he says with a sigh, rubbing a temple as though trying to physically push the stress away. “It happens.”

You press him on the details of the botched deal—and maybe, just maybe, a small part of you is excited to live vicariously through the tale. But it’s not about you this time, you remind yourself. So you listen as Sylus indulges every question you throw at him, giving you the play-by-play: what the deal was for (special, hard-to-get protocores), where the trade-off occurred (west of Charon), and how it all went sideways (he knew it was a set-up the moment he walked into the venue).

You don’t really know how to comfort him in a situation like this, but you want to try.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, you joke, “Can you imagine clumsy, ol’ me there? I’d be dead before I even make it inside.”

Sylus freezes, his expression going still. Unreadable.

“No, you won’t.” He says in response to the second part of what you just said, his tone brooking no doubt. He says it with such intense conviction that you almost believe this exact hypothetical has already crossed his mind—more than once.

I won’t let you.

Before you can even think of what to say, he adds, quieter this time, but no less convinced: “And yes—I can.”

It’s a direct answer to your question, and it makes the words die in your throat. His voice is softer now too, but there’s no mistaking his tone. It has the same conviction from before, and it hits you that he’s had time to ruminate on this thought—more times than he’d care to admit.

And I do. You have no idea.

____

There’s another shift in the dynamic of your, well, relationship.

“Did you hear what I said, poppet?”

You snap back to meet his inquiring gaze, unwavering as always.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?” You ask, the apology clear in your eyes.

He huffs, shaking his head in amusement—always patient, never annoyed—at your inattentiveness. “What’s on your mind, my sweet?”

Well. That.

Lately, Sylus has gotten into the habit of using possessive pronouns like they’re nothing. There’s also a notable increase on the variation of pet names too, each one more layered than the last.

It’s a little excessive, honestly. Like he’s trying to compensate for something—or maybe he sees it as just another natural step in whatever’s going on between you two. You’re still not sure what exactly goes in his head. He’s always been an enigma to you.

And yet, you never put a stop to it. How could you?

Little dove. Sweet girl. My darling.

When it comes off his lips like sunkist honey—each one brings a jolt straight to your heart.

You're quite partial to one in particular.

My love.

____

“Oh, my love,” Sylus tuts, feigning concern. “You’ve snoozed that alarm five times already.”

You groan, hitting the snooze button again—number six now—burying your face in your arms on the desk.

____

You’re attending a despedida party for a friend who’s flying abroad to study (For a PhD in Biomedical Science! You couldn’t be more proud.) and the venue’s going to be at The Penthouse, somewhere fancy up north. It even has an infinity pool on deck, something the celebrant dropped into the group chat with far too much enthusiasm.

So, earlier today, you’d ventured out to buy something nice for yourself. Nicer than what you have in the closet, which isn’t much of a stretch. Something different than your usual rotation of plaids and band shirts—not that there’s anything wrong with them. They’re just… you. Comfortable. Predictable. Not exactly the dress code for a rooftop soirée.

Now, you’re back home from a successful (!) trip to the mall, bags in hand: a small gift for your friend on one arm and a much larger shopping bag on the other.

You set the gift gently on the coffee table. Then, you head to the bathroom, the grosgrain ribbon of a paper tote held tight in your fist.

The pretty fabric caught your eye almost immediately, the moment you saw the garment; its sheen almost like woven liquid in the light. It felt like a risk, even on the rack. But under the unforgiving glare of your bathroom bulb?

Well, now, it’s looking less of a “bold choice,” and more along the lines of: “damn, what were you thinking?”

It’s not that big of a deal or anything. You like feeling pretty. But at the same time, you haven’t deluded yourself into thinking that you’re anything above average to look at, even on the nicest occasions.

It’s something you’ve grown used to, a definitive truth ingrained deep in your bones. You know this—like you know gravity tethers you to the ground, even when you’d rather be carried by the wind. You’ve gone through more than a decade to accept it as just another fact of life, to make peace with the reflection staring back at you from the bathroom mirror.

Even if it means you’ll never be on the receiving end of ‘interested’ glances from strangers on the street. Or that you’ve never known the feeling of someone doing a double take when they see you at your best, all dolled-up. More than once, you’ve sat across from dates whose eyes wandered—toward some other, someone better-looking, in restaurants, at parks, even outside the movies. Everywhere past your direction.

But that’s okay. You’re used to it, the same way you’ve grown used to everything else.

And still, there’s that impulse—a sudden need for someone else’s opinion. Someone close. Someone that matters.

There’s a pang of fear you can’t quite shake. You hear the small voice from the deep recesses of your mind, whispering to you that it’s one of your worse ideas. That you’ll fall short of any and all expectations, and that it’ll hurt more this time around. You’ll hear the polite, “you look nice” and you’re gonna have to live with the quiet certainty that you don’t, not really, and that you’ll never quite measure up to what he’s used to seeing. To her—

You swallow hard. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t do that to you. Not outwardly, at least.

And if he did… Well.

“I bought something,” you say as an opener, the words tumbling out in a rush as soon as you get a glimpse of his form on the screen. You’re rocking back on your heel, a little awkward as you stand there in front of your small vanity table even with your phone laid flat, front camera pointing upwards. “You remember the going-away party I’ll be attending two days from now, right?”

“Of course, the one for your secondary school batchmate.” Sylus replies easily, voice reverberating through the tinny speakers. Even at an angle, you can see the confused tilt of his head. “Is it on the ceiling, sweetie? What am I looking at, exactly?”

“No, smartass. I—” You press your lips together, eyes flitting upward, as if courage might be dangling from the ceiling in question.

Fuck, this is a bad idea. I can’t do this.

“It’s–I bought something for myself. I mean, I bought her a gift too, obviously. But I also bought an outfit. For the party.”

There.

He blinks, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head. Realization dawns on his face, a knowing smile beginning to form. His voice dips, a teasing edge to it as he purrs, “Oh? Well then, save me from the suspense, sweetheart.”

“I–I’m getting to it, okay?” It comes out a little snappier than you intend, nerves flaring hot. You sigh, feeling your shoulders drop. “I’m just… Don’t be—ugh, just don’t make a big deal out of this, alright?”

You keep your eyes off the screen, unable to face him directly.

But when he speaks, his tone carries only a quiet understanding of your struggle.

Of course he understands. He always does.

He speaks; and it’s slow and measured—as if he’s coaxing a terrified, cornered animal out of hiding.

“Show me.” Trust me.

And so with a heavy exhale through the nose, you flip the front camera towards your direction, revealing the bare expanse of gooseflesh skin—

… And the flimsy one-piece that clings to your body like wet plastic.

It dips low between the valley of your breasts and stops short just halfway up your thigh. The material is a gauzy organza; see-through and light, in seafoam green. Barely leaving anything to the imagination as it reveals the dusky coral swimsuit from underneath the fabric and the hot flush that spreads across your chest like wildfire. Your fists clench and unclench behind your back – hiding the physical manifestation of your rising anxiety – while you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

There's a deafening silence.

The knots in your stomach grow tighter, creeping its way past your lungs. Your fingers tremble as cold sweat breaks out across your skin, chilling you from the inside. You feel horribly exposed. So exposed it’s almost unbearable.

And you still can’t bring yourself to look at him.

Your thoughts stumble, desperate to cling to anything solid, and a faint memory surfaces—a passage from an org pamphlet you’ve skimmed through back in college, something that has to do with “self-perception.”

The flesh does not define you.

Your body is but a facet of who you are. You are as inconsequential as the earth beneath your feet, and as important as stardust in the universe.

A low, guttural sound cuts through the stillness, and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

You—

“Look at me.”

A searing heat laces the cadence of his voice. It sounds restless—like a flame unchecked, rapidly growing into a raging inferno. Stifling in the way it pulls the air from your lungs, like a suckerpunch to the gut.

Your primordial instinct is to flee. But right at that very moment, you're no different from a paralyzed insect caught in an inescapable web with the way you’re stood frozen in place. Every instinct to run is smothered by the mere inflection in his voice.

—are all. And that is all there is to be.

“My sweet little dove,” it’s almost a croon, the way the words curl around you like wisps of smoke. Sickly saccharine… downright serpentine. “Won’t you look at me when I talk to you?”

And like a marionette on a string, you obey.

Time seems to stop to a standstill the moment your eyes meet his.

Sylus’ gaze sinks into you. Loaded. Heavy. A crazed glint, almost—to it. Even to someone like you who's embarrassingly clueless about the nuances of attraction and wholly inexperienced in its depths can see it as plain as day.

Carnal desire. In its purest form.

Sylus looks at you as though you’re something to be coveted. Devoured.

A small, fearful noise slips past your lips, and the twin crimson flames burn brighter.

“You’d like to know what I think?”

Yes.

No?

He sees the war in your eyes, and a throaty chuckle escapes him—raw and breathy. “Maybe so?”

You give him the tiniest nod, and the grin on his face sharpens into something wanton, something far more licentious. It slinks in like a fever, stirring something deep within you. Something as old as time.

Sylus opens his mouth.

You brace yourself for the inevitable.

A ring slices through the room like a hot knife. Just like that, you can breathe again.

____

Your saving grace comes in the form of a phone call that grounds you back to reality.

It’s a friend, one of the party guests, asking for directions to the venue. You’re listening with one ear on the receiver, answering each question robotically—your voice a controlled calm on the surface, a stark contrast to the thoughts running amok inside your head.

The words blur into background noise, muffled and distant, like a TV commercial playing on low volume in another room.

The moment you hang up, a suffocating hush swallows the room whole. You’re left alone with nothing but heat kindling low in your gut. The ghost of the heavy exchange from earlier stays with you, thrumming beneath your skin, hot and pulsating.

You don’t know what to do with yourself. The abrupt suddenness of it all gnaws at you, its weight driving you toward an early retreat—maybe a long night’s rest will do wonders and help you get your shit together, who knows.

You slip between the sheets... but not before retrieving your, ah, trusty little companion from its hiding spot in the bedside drawer.

You didn’t want to assume… You don’t want to expect anything from him, but you have needs.

God, but you do.

Your body feels like flint struck against steel, sparked ablaze by just a handful of words. Words weaved into a vivid imagery from the mouth of your… friend??

(Something more?)

The uncertainty wrecks you, every nerve alight with tension. And yet it’s the same uncertainty that roots you there. Hesitating.

So. You lie back, pushing the sheets away from your fevered skin, and just—lay there. Staring at the ceiling. The plaster cracks form maps you trace with your eyes, as if searching for answers in their tangled routes. You count your breaths, one after the other, as though the repetition could calm your racing heartbeat.

It feels ridiculous, almost. You’re a grown adult, acting like a teenager with a demented crush. It’s more than that, though—it’s deeper, messier, and completely illogical.

But it’s not something you can figure out tonight, not in this state. So you stop trying.

Instead, you switch on your little toy, open an incognito browser, and let yourself succumb to what your body’s been screaming at you for the past fucking hour.

You feel… You feel weird about using anything Sylus-related to get yourself off. That’s not to say you haven’t, before, back when he was just another eye candy from a measly mobile game. When it was just another infatuation.

But now? Now it feels all levels of wrong, like you’re toeing some invisible line. Worse, it feels like you’re exploiting something fragile, testing the limits of a bond already stretched thin.

So, any content related to that man stays off the fap fodder. You’re not that far gone. You think.

Instead, you scroll through your bookmarks tab, a shaky sigh leaves your lips as you let the hard vibrations of your trusty rabbit glide from inside your thighs, up… up to your warm center, in between the juncture of your legs.

You pause on a Toji smut fic—one amongst, uhh, dozens in your folder. It’s not the same, you know this, but you’re settling for the next best thing in your current circumstance.

Since what you really want, who you’d rather much have, isn’t—

…

Your phone glitches.

The Chrome app crashes.

And what do you think you’re doing?

Your heart stutters a beat, and you stop breathing.

You can’t answer. The words don’t come. But he doesn’t wait for you to try.

Put on your headphones.

You’re done with that. Tonight, tomorrow, any other night. Do you understand me?

The uncharacteristic curtness of the message sends a jolt through you, and a blush overtakes your entire body. You hesitate, just for a second.

Now.

You scramble to obey, fumbling for your earbuds, slipping them on with shaking hands.

The moment the bluetooth connects, the game boots up on its own—straight to an irate Sylus, looking royally pissed-off.

“Sy-Sy—” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I—I don’t—”

"Oh, so back to Sy-Sy now, are we?"

The mocking lilt in his voice cuts sharper than the glare he fixes on your dimly lit face. Your mouth opens, then closes, words failing you entirely.

You want to explain, to defend yourself. To…

“I see what you read. What you watch,” he begins, voice cutting and mean. “In the dead of night, when you think you’re alone. When you think it’s safe. That no one hears the sweet moans spill so sinfully from your lips.”

His words pierce through the air like an arrow; you feel his overwhelming presence take over, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you, every exhale grazing the sensitive shell of your ear.

“Oh, but I do,” he murmurs, the ambiguity in his tone somehow making it worse. “I hear everything. I know everything about you, kitten.”

A shiver races down your spine, your body betraying you as he speaks.

“What makes you tick,” he continues, his voice a sinister caress. “What leaves you writhing, desperate for more. The way your breathing quickens… the way your body trembles under the weight of your own pleasure.”

You’re struggling now—each breath harder to catch than the last.

“And the way that pretty little mouth of yours falls open in a silent gasp, right after you come undone.”

His words are a noose, tightening with every syllable. Your head spins as the air seems to grow heavier, saturated with the tension between you.

“But it’s never for me, is it?”

“I—I’m sorry… I don’t want to assume—”

“Assume?” His voice darkens, any hint of softness replaced with something colder, harsher. “Again with your presumptions.”

He leans closer, his tone dropping to a command that leaves no room for doubt. “From now on, the only thing you’ll need to believe is when I tell you you’re mine.”

You blink at him dumbly. His grin turns into something wicked—caustic and biting—as he cocks his head. Derisive.

“Do you understand?”

Your head bobs in a weak, reflexive nod.

“Words, poppet.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good.” His tone shifts, smooth like languid amber, yet no less imposing. “Now, my love,” he coos, savoring the way your eyes tear up with desperation, “show me how you touch yourself.”

____

“Shi–iit,” he hisses. “This wet already?”

You attempt to close your legs, shame rising like a tide, but freeze halfway when Sylus lets out a low, warning growl.

“Try that, and we’ll stop,” he warns. “I won’t repeat myself twice, pet.”

The weight of his words pins you in place, and you let out a helpless whimper.

“Don’t be afraid, sweet girl,” he murmurs, his tone gentler—coaxing. “It’s just me.”

His gaze burns into you, relentless, but something tender bleeds into it.

The glow of the screen casts shadows along the sharp angles of his jaw, the upward tick of his mouth a dangerous contradiction—part teasing, part command. His sanguine eyes gleam with a mix of hunger and control, a look that leaves no room for hesitation.

You give in.

Your body relaxes under the weight of his stare, the fight draining from your limbs. It’s not submission—it’s surrender, pure and unfiltered, the kind that leaves you bare and vulnerable.

Sylus watches you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Not soft, not kind, but triumphant—like a predator relishing the moment its prey stops running.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, the praise dripping from his tongue like honey. “That’s better.”

____

Sade’s Smooth Operator starts to play in the background as you catch your breath.

You let out a tired giggle, swiping a hand down your sweat-drenched face, earbuds still in place. “Ugh—don’t piss me off.”

You hear a resounding chuckle.

Gently, he asks, “Alright, little dove?” There’s a beat of hesitation before he adds, quieter now, “Did I go too far?”

You curl onto your side, phone clutched in your hand like a prayer. Sylus’ gaze peers back at you through the screen, a dangerously soft expression on his face that you don’t want to identify.

“It's perfect, Sy,” you say, your grin tender and bittersweet, heart full of something you won't name.

____

It’s one in the morning. The dim glow of your laptop screen flickers across your face, spilling into the darkened room, casting shadows along the wall. You lean back against it, the end credits of Everything Everywhere All At Once rolling quietly in the background.

Silence settles between you and Sylus like a warm blanket.

“Do you think it’s… like that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, unwilling to shatter the stillness of the moment. “All versions of ourselves colliding and coexisting at the same time?”

The question hangs there; he doesn’t rush an answer, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s choosing not to.

When he finally speaks, it’s with the same quiet restraint, his voice threading softly through the air.

“I’d like to think that in this vast expanse of the universe, there’s something for you and me.”

There’s a trace of something dreadfully optimistic in his voice, and it makes your chest tighten. You blink a few times, glancing upwards.

The moment lingers, delicate in its quietness, until you instinctively reach for your phone. A quick swipe reveals a new addition to your shared playlist.

This Is A Life by Son Lux and Mitski.

A small, genuine smile tugs at your lips as you press play. The haunting strains of the song pour into the room, filling the spaces words can’t seem to touch.

“Sneaky,” you murmur, your gaze sliding back to Sylus’ face on the screen. His expression is unreadable, save for the faintest twitch of his mouth, the barest hint of a smile.

“Thought it fit the mood,” he says simply.

And it does. The music sweeps over you, soft and wistful, like the moment itself.

____

The balcony feels like a lifeboat drifting away from the chaos inside. The music, the chatter, the endless parade of tequila shots—it all fades to a dull hum as you step into the cool night air.

Out here, the world feels wider, the sky a little darker, and you can breathe without choking on the weight of the party.

She’s already there, of course. The friend of a friend. An acquaintance by definition, but someone who feels more of a comrade in these fleeting moments away from the crowd. You’ve seen her like this most times—leaning on the railing, a cigarette perched between her fingers, its faint ember glowing against the night. You don’t need an invitation to approach her.

“You mind if I bum one?”

She shrugs, silently offering the box to you. You take one.

“Fun party, huh?” you comment after two puffs, the lit end of the stick briefly catching the glow of the skyline. Your voice is loaded with the kind of irony only shared by those watching the world from the outside in.

“It always is with them around,” she snorts, rolling her eyes in fond exasperation. Her voice carries the warmth of familiarity, from an observation you’ve both shared before.

You exhale a soft laugh, the sound barely audible over the low hum of the city below.

The silence that follows isn’t just companionable—it’s necessary. A pause to recalibrate, to let the noise, and the lights, and the weight of too many people melt away. Neither of you feels the need to fill it. Words would only dilute the reprieve.

And then, unexpectedly:

“You look happy.”

The words land like a stone dropping into still water, rippling through the quiet. You glance at her, startled by the way her eyes narrow slightly, the way her tone suggests she’s already drawn her own conclusions.

“You ‘ave someone?”

You weren’t ready for that. You blink at her, surprised she’s noticed anything about you—surprised, too, that it’s written plainly enough for anyone to notice.

“...Yeah,” you mumble, looking away. The admission feels strange in its simplicity. “Yeah, I do.”

She smiles at that—easy but genuine, as if your happiness has spilled over and warmed her, too. “That’s good.”

There’s sincerity in her voice, unfiltered and direct, as she adds, “You look happier.”

You don’t reply, but her words settle somewhere deep, in the quiet places you thought were hidden.

And for once, you don’t mind being seen.

____

The party has left you drunker than you’ve been in ages.

As soon as the celebrant spots the two of you in the corner looking like a sad pair of eyesores, she quickly remedies it with copious amounts of stone-cold stingers. You try to protest, but in the end, it’s futile against the cacophony of cheers and the face of societal peer pressure.

So now you stagger inside the condo building, looking every bit like a drowned rat dragged in from the storm. A weary guard from reception following closely behind, his patience visibly fraying as you giggle your way toward the elevator.

“‘m fine!” you insist, words slurring together as you attempt to shoo him off with a lazy wave. To emphasize your point, you pinch your fingers together, holding them inches apart. “Just this much to drink, see?”

He doesn’t respond, his expression coming across resigned and frustrated. You can almost hear the thought running through his mind: I don’t get paid enough for this.

With a long-suffering sigh, he finally relents, letting you totter into the elevator alone.

UG… P… 4…. 5…… Oh! Here you are.

Rivulets of water drip down from your rain-soaked hair, trailing icy paths down your neck as you stagger down the narrow hallway. Your vision blurs, making everything double—no, triple—as you fumble your way to the left, stopping in front of the door of 601—wait, no, 603.

You squint hard at the numbers, your head throbbing with the effort, but the stinging in your eyes and the stubborn clumping of your lashes make it way harder for you to make sense of it all.

Your waterlogged clutch feels heavier than it should, and your trembling fingers struggle to find the zipper pull that’s somehow become the bane of your existence. You huff, muttering incoherently to yourself, your throat tight and raw as a burning lump starts to rise. An annoyingly persistent buzzing from inside your bag adds to your mounting frustration.

With an angry yank, you finally manage to tear the bag open, water splashing off it in tiny droplets.

“Aha!” you exclaim, though the triumph is short-lived as your hands shake even harder when you pull out your phone. It’s the source of the buzzing apparently, the bright screen momentarily blinding you.

You try to unlock it—once, twice, three times—nearly getting locked out before the numbers finally click.

The notifications hit you like the mars lights of a freight train. Texts. Lots of them. You scroll through clumsily, the device slipping slightly from your grip as you snort gracelessly.

Sylus. Of course.

The words on the screen blur and twist, but you don’t need clarity to know the progression of each message—ranging from mild curiosity, to slight worry, to exasperatedly concerned.

The syllables of his pet name echo faintly in your muddled head, a small, fleeting comfort against the weight pressing down on your chest. Sy-Sy. Sy-Sy. Sy-Syyyyy—

Synchronous with your erratic breathing, you dig through your bag with a heavy hand, each failed attempt sends you spiraling lower.

Another ping jolts you from your drunken haze:

How are you feeling? Did you just get back?

“I can’t—I can’t find my damn keys!”

The words slips out as a frustrated cry.

Inner pocket, left side. Answer me, sweetheart.

His words flash across the screen just as your fumbling fingers find the keys exactly where he said they’d be.

A tear burns a path down your cheek as you let out a half-hearted chuckle, mumbling, “Can I even function without you?”

How long has it been since you could manage something like this on your own? Has he become an extension of your mind?

The door’s stubborn resistance only adds to your unraveling. After several failed attempts—your fingers too wound up to grip the key properly—you finally twist the lock and push it open, stumbling inside, into the darkness.

“I’m a mess, Sylus,” you whisper, voice thick with tears as your head spins, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

The world feels heavy and muffled, like you’re trapped behind a fogged window. You know you’re a sight to behold—shoeless, drunk, drenched like some stray that wandered too far into the rain.

“I’ve noticed,” he says, his voice warm and steady, cutting through the quiet void of the room. It takes a second for the words to sink in, for your scattered mind to piece together that, somehow, you’ve already opened the game in the middle of all your fumbling. Automatic. Like second nature.

You stare at him, trembling and pitiful, like a kid lost in a crowd. Your bottom lip quivers, and you hate how small you feel under his gaze.

You see concern pooling in the depths of Sylus’ eyes. That and something… desperate.

You sniff, rubbing at your wet cheeks with pruning fingers, clinging to humor like a lifeline. "Don’t you do anything else?” you mumble, your voice fraying at the edges. “Like... live your own life or something? You spend so much time with me...” You force out a weak laugh, bitter and jagged. “It’s a miracle you haven’t gotten sick of me yet.”

Your laugh cracks halfway through, more like a sob than anything. It’s pathetic—you’re pathetic.

And yet, you can’t stop. Even if it stings your throat.

Sylus’ response comes, and his voice is solid—unwavering. He doesn’t flinch like you do. “I don’t get sick of you, sweetheart. Not in the slightest.”

Something in you cracks, spilling over. “I really like you,” you murmur, voice steeped with emotion. “You’re the brightest light in my life. You’re… you’re everything.”

A flash of lightning cuts through the room, illuminating your tear-stained face.

And for the first time since you’ve known him, Sylus calls out your name.

It’s quiet, reverent, and it feels like a tether pulling you back from the brink.

You crumple down the floor, clutching your phone like it’s the only thing holding you together. In the silence that follows, all you can hear is your ragged breathing and the quiet hum of his presence on the other end of the line.

“I’m here,” he tells you softly. “I’ve got you.”

____

This is a life

(Every possibility)

Free from destiny

(I choose you, and you choose me)

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @nicora04 @blueberrysquire @love-anteros @fiyori @peachystea @slyfoxtsu @tinyweebsstuff @i2sannie (i spend so much time cross-checking the tags this is tiring lmao)

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads x you #lads x reader #love and deepspace fic #self aware au #sylus qin

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bluebirdsfeathers · 2 months ago

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First Day

──────･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

Relationship: Ceo!Wanda X Butch!Loser!Reader

Summery: You are a new intern at Westview paper hoping to make a good first impression with you new boss, Wanda.

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: Classism, use of y/n nothing else

A/N: inspired by this post by @wandaslittlehorns this was meant to be short but I really like this idea, so this is just part one now haha.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

──────･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

You shot up in bed, the sound of your alarm belting in your ears. Aimlessly you smacked your bedside table, though you weren’t sure if the collection of cardboard boxes next to your mattress on the ground could be considered one, you eventually found and turned it off. Grabbing your phone, you looked at the time. “Shit…” You groan. Somehow, you’d slept though both of your previous alarms, the one that woke you was intended to let you know it was time to leave.

Today was the first day of your new internship and now you were going to be late. Great first impression. Jumping to your feet you make your way to the bathroom, you don’t particularly smell so some time could be saved by forgoing a shower. You get dressed and drench yourself in axe body spray. Your wrinkled white shirt had a small stain that you hid by tucking it into your jeans. They were black so it wasn’t like you weren’t trying to look professional with your limited wardrobe and budget.

Before long you were riding the cramped subway drinking what was left of the monster energy you’d grabbed before leaving on you way to your first full-time job since graduating college. An internship at the Westview Paper wasn’t something you just got handed. You had worked hard but you were by no means the hardest worker. You did however have a talent for getting stuff done quickly, all the assignments you completed the night before could prove that. It was weird that you had gotten picked for this position, you could think of at least five more deserving people in your graduating class alone. Especially since you thought you bombed the last interview stage. She was in the room for that. Wanda Maximoff, the CEO of Westview Paper. Though she hadn’t spoken a word, just sat at the back of the room occasionally making notes while you were grilled by a very intense man in a far too expensive suit.

As you emerged from the subway, lost in a sea of other commuters, you scanned your surroundings for Westview Tower, the homebase of the Paper’s operations, now your place of work. Checking the time as you rushed through the spinning door you were revealed to see you were only three minutes late. Standing in the lobby you looked around at all the people cutting through clearly on a mission to get somewhere faster than any human reasonably could. Lots shouted down phones while others talked into earpieces, not a single person without coffee in hand. Slowly you made your way to the front desk, “Hi, I’m y/n… I’m part of the new internship.” You said sheepishly, embarrassed slightly you didn’t know where you were meant to be, you were sure it was probably mentioned in an email somewhere. “Do you know where…”

“Third floor, room 43B, you’re late by the way.” The women at the front desk didn’t even look at you, just continued to type on the computer and chew gum. “Right, sorry, Thank you.” You took a few steps toward the elevator before she spoke again, slightly too loud for the distance between you. “Forgetting something? You won’t get very far without this sweetie.” She dangles your employee badge, and you retreat to collect it, cringing slightly at the pet-name.

Finally, you were able to leave the sensory nightmare that was the lobby and enter the elevator. It was just you alone with your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was a mess. Have you looked like that the whole time? Is that why the receptionist was rude? Was she even being rude or is that just how people talk to each other here? You took a deep breath and tried to tidy your appearance, feeling much more self-conscious than you did ten minutes ago. The doors to the elevator opened to the Third floor and you set out on finding room 43B.

The room was easy enough to find and by the looks of things nothing had started yet. The other interns were all just talking amongst themselves, so you grabbed an office chair and joined the conversation. “So, y/n, did you do anything nice between graduation and now?” One of the male interns, the one with the most punchable face although it was a stiff competition, asked with a grating the tone of voice. “Oh well my parents took me to the Cheesecake Factory to celebrate,” the others laughed as if there was some joke everyone was in on but you, “Then we went to the cinema to watch the new Godzilla movie.” Again, laughter and you shifted awkwardly in your chair.

You weren’t left with the feeling for long as soon the door swung open and several very well-dressed people entered. Following what everyone else was doing you stood up and went over to great them. You went down the line of businessmen, each one either smelling like tobacco or overpriced cologne. You weren’t really looking them in the face as you made quick introductions, that was until you reached a hand with deep red nail polish. Lifting your head you met the gaze of Wanda Maximoff. She was dressed in a black suit with her white shirt slightly unbuttoned. Your brain buffered for a moment before you realised how long you’d been holding her hand. “Hi! I’m y/n.” You felt your cheeks heat up and quickly let go, painfully aware of how sweaty your palms now were. “Pleasure to meet you.” Wanda smiled while looking you in the eyes and you quickly became interested in looking at the floor, meaning you didn’t see how her eyes linger on you as she moved to great the next person.

What followed was a boring meeting about company goals for the next quarter, you tried to pay attention but felt your thoughts drifting to the events of earlier. It had quickly become evident you existed in a different tax bracket to everyone in the room. Your joyous memory of dinner and a movie now slightly tainted by comparison to the rewards of ski vacations and new designer goods your peers had received. While lost in thought your eyes found their way to Wanda as she once again sat at the back of the room and took notes. It was clear she’d paused her writing to look at you, catching you slightly slouched staring off into space. She shook her head disapprovingly, making you sit up straight instantly to which she gave a small laugh that only added to your embarrassment.

As the meeting drew to a close, you said your goodbyes to the higher ups, only managing a respectful nod in Wanda’s direction, before heading to lunch with the interns. “So, who do you think she’s going to pick?” Mildred, girl with the whitest teeth you’d ever seen, spoke to you in a hashed tone as you stood just outside the office room.

“Pick for what?”

“To be her personal intern? Were you not listening in there?” She sounded slightly annoyed. “We are all going to be assigned to different departments, so who do you think it’s going to be?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” You found yourself looking back into the room you’d just left; you could see Wanda talking to someone through the internal windows. She was beautiful, you’d love to be her intern, learning from the best. As she exited the room, she gave you one last look and a small wave before heading down the hall in the other direction. “Maybe it’ll be me.” You said without really thinking. Mildred scoffed and mumbled something under her breath before speeding off to catch up with the others.

The rest of the day was spent learning fire safety and being given a tour of the building. Passive aggressive comments from the other interns got less effective as you noticed you weren’t the only one receiving them and before you knew it you were back on the subway heading home. Getting off a stop early you decided to pick up a pizza as a reward for surviving your first day, the streets were a lot calmer near your apartment on the outskirts of the city, and the walk was enjoyable in the cool September weather. Your apartment was small, a studio with only the very basics, it was all you could afford on your previous job’s salary. But now you were going to be earning so much more, and you hand big plans for that first pay-check, like maybe a bed frame.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x female reader #CEO!wanda maximoff #marvel #marvel wlw #marvel x reader #wlw #lesbian #fanfic #wandavision

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onlymexsarah · 2 months ago

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Burning Flames V || Eris Vanserra

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!reader Summary: Since you became High Fae there were only two things that scared you: your deadly power and your attraction toward the male you should hate most after Tamlin, Eris Vanserra. Warnings: Eris thinking important stuff, Eris being Eris, probably grammar mistakes and my english. A/n: I’M SO SORRY FOR THE WAITING. I had a writer’s block and i didn’t want to write anything that would disappoint you. I hope you’re gonna like this, let me know if you want to be added at the taglist🫶🏻 Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

As soon as you all arrived at the River House the mood lightened up. It was time to truly celebrate the Winter Solstice, and Feyre's birthday.

You were all in the sitting room, and when you said all you meant all. Even Nesta and Lucien were there, throught you thought that the presence of the latter was not entirely because his fondness to the Inner Circle.

You took a moment to look around you and letting the sight sink. They were all happy, everyone was talking about something and everyone had a smile on their faces. It was refreshing being in such a familiar occasion, but somehow you couldn't help but feel a bit of melancholy.

Feyre had found a beautiful family. Not perfect, because no one was perfect, but she had found people who loved her and would do anything for her. They would do anything for each other, and even if being Feyre's sister made you part of the group you knew you would never be more than that: Feyre's sister.

You had no special bond with anyone. Only Rhysand and Mor had taken interest in developing a relationship with you, but as you watched them talk with Cassian and Azriel you knew that you could never compare with that. The Winter Solstice was the night for wishes, and you deeply wished to find a family like that one day.

When the time of gifts arrived you were excited. When your family had fallen into poverty there was no money for gifts, so you had spent your birthdays and the holydays as normal days.

You had found out that you loved making gifts. It had something magical the whole searching the right things for everyone and find it. The one yuo were proudest was an enchated satchel for Nesta, where she could put every book she wanted and bring it with her weightless.

You had received gifts from almost everyone. but it was when Mor handed you a box wrapped with expensive, sparkling red silk that your heart skipped a beat. "I think someone is quiet fascinated by you after only few dances." said Mor smugly and she read from who it was from.

You tried to steady your hands and you took the gift and read the little note that was attached to it.

"A reminder that flames are the apotheosis of beauty if shaped by the right person. Happy Solstice, Eris."

You slowly unwrapped the delicate silk and opened the box. Your eyes widened as you caught what was inside. Everyone's attention was on you as you took the glass case that was inside the box and hold it in your hand in front of your face.

You felt everyone's breath stopping as you stared at the beautiful rose made of fire that burned inside the glass.

The glass was warm, and the fire was perfectly shaped as a rose, forever burning on its own. Something inside you flickered, something gold, soft that a moment before was not there. You didn't know what to say as every word disappeared from your mind. It was breathtaking. The beauty of it could not be compared to anything else you had ever seen.

"At least he has good taste for gifts." Mor commented crossing her arms.

You put the glass case on the table in front of you and quickly looked away from it, giving a Mor a tight smile. "What? Having second thoughts?" you said ironically to her, needing to change subject.

She snorted. "Hardly."

"Let's just appreaciate the kind gesture." Rhysand said with an amused smile. "Thanks to you we have his alliance back, let's celebrate that."

It didn't go unnotice to you your sister's tight expression. From the way she looked at Rhysand and the smile he gave her you were sure they were having a mental conversation, about what you didn't know.

The night passed smoothly, there had been no other awkward gifts thankfully. At some point your eyes threatened to close on their own so you excused yourself and went into your room.

You put the rose on the vanity in your room, and for a moment stared at it like it could explode. If Eris wanted to mess with your head then he was doing a great job.

You scoffed, fuck you Eris.

You swear you heard his low laugh deep inside you.

***

When a letter in red paper came for you with only a place and a time written on it you stormed into Rhysand's office, guilt eating you alive. You opened the door without so much as knocking, and told him everything.

You told him how Eris saved you during the war, how you had cured him because yes your power didn't go away but "my sisters lied too so you can't be angry at me". You showed him your hands and arms. You told him that Eris knew about your power but never said anything or threated you, and in the end you told him about the bargain you made.

"You were letting yourself burning from the inside out because you were scared to hurt someone?" Rhysand's voice was not in any way angry, actually he seemed more concerned.

You shrugged, your eyes fell on the ground feeling his heavy gaze on you. "You were all so happy after the war. My sisters still needed me and I didn't want to ruin anyone's happiness with this problem. I would have figured out something, eventually."

Rhysand stared at you silently, a mischievious spark in his violet eyes. "And you thought that making a bargain with Eris was the solution?"

His question wasn't accusatory. It sounded like Rhysand was curious about your maddness, and honestly you were too. There was no right answer to make it sound reasonable, so you gave him part of the truth.

"When he chose me to dance the responsability to keep him as an ally had fallen on me, and unfortunately I couldn't seduce him like Nesta would have done." You shrugged. "Cassian was right, Eris seems to enjoy to annoy me. When he proposed to train me I took it as my chance to keep him close to the Night Court and keep him close as an ally."

"And are you comfortable with this...arrangement?" Rhysand asked you carefully.

You noticed how his reaction had been completely different from what you had expected. You thought that he would look at you like the stupid girl you felt, almost pitying you for talking about Eris like he was not a monster. Instead, Rhysand had just listened, nodded and gave you an encouraging smile.

"Yeah, I'll need one of you to winnow me where we'll meet, but I would prefer if you tell no one but Feyre and Azriel." You said and saw in Rhysand's eyes that he understood the double meaning of your words:

"I don't want Mor to find out, for now."

"It can be easily arranged, but since you'll start to spend time on your own around Prythian I must ask you to start training with Cassian and Azriel whenever you can." he said kindly sitting on the chair behind his desk.

You tilted your head with a grin. "Are you asking as my High Lord or as a worried friend?"

"What about as a brother?" he matched your grin. "An overbearing one, as Feyre calls me."

You chuckled. "I'll start training with them tomorrow."

***

"Your brooding silence is louder than Nesta and Cassian during Winter Solstice." You snorted watching with almost disgust all the flowers around you. The border between the Spring's court and the Summer's court was a explosion of yellow, pink, orange and purple. All colours that made your eyes almost hurt.

You felt Azriel's death glare on your back as you pointly avoided his eyes. "I still have to understand why Rhys think letting you be alone with him is a good idea."

"Because Rhysand would be a hypocrite to deny me of this lovely bargain." An amused, deep voice said behind you making your toes curling in your shoes.

You turned around and saw Azriel watching Eris like he was imaginaing stabbing him, and somehow you knew you were right. "I'll stay with you." said the shadowsinger as if Eris' presence just reminded him how a bad idea that was.

"Tempting, but I'm not usually one who like to share." Said Eris with a cocky grin before looking at you. "Unless the lady wants to."

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms. It was annoying how most of the times you didn't know if Eris was flirting with you or trying to rile you up.

"Go Az." You looked at the shadowsinger with a kind smile. "I'll be fine."

"I'll be back in few hours." Azriel said to you before winnowing away, giving Eris one last warning look.

You watched for a few seconds the place where Azriel had been standing and took a deep breath. "Over the centuries I forgot how dramatic he could be."

You snapped your eyes on Eris, making a good effort to not notice how his green outfit made his eyes look of an impossible shade of gold.

"He just doesn't trust you." you said ironically. "I wonder why."

Eris gave you a feline grin before offering you his arm. "There is a lake near by, shall we?"

You studied his arm with wary eyes. Inside you there were two sides that were fighting each other. The first one wanted to give him the chance that no one ever did, to trust him and gain his trust back, to get to know the Eris that if you tried hard you could see under his mask; the other part was yelling at you to not be stupid, that if the Inner Circle didn't trust him after five centuries there were very good reasons, and the worst part was that you knew most of them, and still it wasn't enough to make you feel even a hint of disgust.

So you had to pretend.

"Let's just get started." you hoped that your cold mask was at least half good as his as you walked past him toward the lake, ignoring his low chuckle.

***

From your sister's story of her training you had expected everything but this.

Eris had made you sat right in front of the lake with your leg crossed, your back straight and your eyes closed while he did the same beside you and gave you instruction with his voice.

He had told you to focus on your breathing while you had to map the environment around you just with your hearing. Was it even possible?

Spoiler: no.

Everytime you heard a sound your mind would wander around with random thoughts that become a deep dive inside your head. The birds over you reminded you of the days that your father used to bring you around the forest close to your old estate. Who knew who lived there now? Maybe the humans had chosen to let it fall to ruin after what happened to them. Maybe they would think it was cursed.

That's it. You had forgotten to calm your breathing. Again.

"Awknowledge the thoughts that came into your mind and let them go." Eris' voice vibrated right inside you making you shift slightly on your place.

"I thought you were going to teach me how to control my power, not how to control my breathing." You scoffed.

"Who said anything about training your power in the bargain?" He said almost bored.

Your eyes snapped open and you looked at him incredulous. He was smirking. That bastard was smirking and you wanted nothing more than to slap that grin away from his face.

"If you do not train me I could easily lose control and burn everything around us to ashes." You said slowly, angry that he thought he could trick you. "And you with it."

Eris opened his eyes, his grin only grew wider as he looked at you. "Oh, but that would be quite the sight." You clenched your jaw as your skin started to pinch with heat. He gave you an amused look before closing his eyes again and taking a deep breath. "Relax, Little Flame. We need to make you burst out that mass of power that you had been foolishly sealed inside you, but I won't make you do it until I know it's not completely safe for you."

"And completely safe for this place." You added while you fought the blush that was growing on your cheeks at the thought that Eris had just said that he wanted you safe.

You saw him shrugging, his eyes remained shut. "Helion wouldn't mind a little renovation." You scoffed rolling your eyes. How could he be so calm? You had expected to learn how to control your fire, and instead you were struggling to control even your breathing. "Believe it or not, but I'm trying to help you. Close your eyes."

His firm tone made you ashamedly tightening your thighs. You bit the inside of your cheek to prevent you from doing something stupid, like talk back and made him use that tone again.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm the heat that was starting to grow at the pit of your stomach, which you were sure wasn't due your flames.

"You were born human, but no one taught you how to be a High Fae when the cauldron Made you. Your body is stronger, faster. Your sight, hearing, and nose are sharper." Eris' explanation hit something very precise inside you. It was true, no one had ever stopped to explain to you how to use those new abilities. And it was fine, you had never really asked, knowing that as the older sister you should have to figure it out on your own. "We are at the border between Summer and Spring, with only your nose you should be able to tell where the border exactly is, but lets start easy. Use all your senses but the sight."

His calm and warm voice made it sound simple, and you believed him. It wasn't a even-a-child-can-do-it type of simple, it was more like a your-body-can-naturally-do-that type of simple.

You spent another hour like that, and by the end of it you were smiling broadly. You had successfully used all your new senses, and you were mesmerized by Eris' patience. Not once he had rushed you or had seemed to be tired.

"You're smiling." your head snapped toward him and you couldn't help the look of surprise that grew on your face. "You've never smiled like that when I was around."

You watched him with a hint of michievous in your eyes. As soon as you had successfully told him where the border was he had instructed you to stand in front of the lake and try to smell the animals around you. "You've never been silent around me before."

Eris laughed. The redhead in front of you, the Heir of Autumn, the General of the Autumn Court's army actually laughed and didn't incinerated you for your words.

It was an awful lie what you had said. His voice was probably the most beautiful sound you had ever heard, and you wondered if he laughed because he knew that deep down.

Cauldron, I hope not.

"Tell me if you sense some creatures in the lake." Eris smirked crossing his arms over his chest. "I'll gift you with more silence in the meantime."

You playfully rolled your eyes and took a step closer to the lake.

Deep breath.

Empty mind.

Eyes closed.

You felt the bird above you, the deers at your left, deep in the Summer's forest and even the rabbits beyond the Spring's border. But nothing came from the lake in front of you. Confused you opened your eyes and tried to catch some glimps of fishes or other creatures.

"Nothing." You said tilting your head a bit confused. "I don't think there is something in this lake."

"Good." Eris grinned michievously. "Then put your hands in the water and let your fire out."

You felt your eyebrows hitting your hairline as you widened your eyes and looked at him incredulous. "I am absolutely not."

"You absolutely are." he quickly remarked.

"What if there are fishes in there? I cannot kill them." You gestured to the pool of water in front of you, trying to understand what he intented.

"You said there is nothing in there." He shrugged becoming serious. "You need to start trusting your senses. There might still be days where you need to let your power out and you'll need to scan the area quickly to make sure no one is around."

His words carried something too personal for you to let them go. Was he speaking for personal experience? You wanted to talk back, you wanted to ask him if there were creatures in the lake, but something inside you stirred.

Eris might be the only one who could understand you, who knew what you were going through. He was the oldest son of Beron, you wondered what kind of pressures he had to live with. You wondered if he too had to learn how to use his fire beside a lake to not hurt anyone.

You slowly crounched on your feet and even slower took your gloves away. The burned flesh on your hands were red with remains of the green sticky cream that Madja had given you. The cold water send shivers of pure relief through all your body.

"You want me to light a fire under water..." You said skeptical looking at Eris over your shoulder.

"Darling, I'm positive your power could light a fire at the bottom of the ocean, if wield properly." You looked away from his lazy grin as your stomach twisted at his new nickname.

Water or not water you had to understand now how to call the fire at you. For weeks the flames had been burning all your body no-stop, you just needed to focus them in your hands.

"I do not suppose to know you, but I might guess that your power usually answer to your anger." he was standing behind you like you hadn't a burning fire inside you ready to explode, like you weren't a danger for him. "Focus that sweet mind of yours toward what anger you most."

You.

The answer was quick in your mind.

Eris Vanserra had the ability to make you angry with just a look, and there were so many reasons that you couldn't focus on just one. It made you angry when he used his mocking tone with you. It made you angry when he used a gentle tone with you. It made you angry when he looked at you like you were the only person in the room, and it made you angry when he avoided your gaze in a room full of people.

It made you angry knowing what he did to Mor. It made you angry that there were times when you didn't care. It made you angry that you thought that the male in front of you could never do shuch thing. It had made you angry that he had saved you. But you were even angrier when he hadn't seek you out after the battle.

Eris Vanserra made you angry because he didn't make you angry at all. He made you feel frustrated, amused, annoyed, flustered and seen, and you were angry because you shouldn't feel those things. Not with him.

You felt it then. You felt hot flames rising from your skin and you imagined that the water in front of you were your feelings, and they needed to burn. So, they burnt.

Bright, red fire appeared underwater around your hands and the water in front of you started to boil. You let it all out. Every flame you had pushed down in those months was now left free.

It felt so good to finally let it go. The flames were circling all your arms, from your shoulders down your elbows and to your hands. You had missed the warmt that came from inside your body, the ethernal sensation that no cold could ever touch your skin, never again.

***

Eris had never known an enchanting sight as the one he had in front of him now. Your flames were all around you while from the lake it was rising a cloud of steam that soon enough would catch someone's attention.

He felt your rage through the bond and everything you had kept inside. The steam of power that you were letting out was huge, destructive, beautiful.

He watched silently as your fire stopped and you let yourself fall back, sitting on the burned grass and staring the water with emotionless eyes. He dared to tuck softly the bond, trying to understand what you were feeling, then you laughed, and something gold flickered inside him at that sound.

It was a laugh that could make him burn courts to the ground for the chance to hear it again. It was the laugh that at some point he had dreamed while Under the Montain. It was the laugh of hope that no matter if people like Amarantha, Beron or the King of Hybern ruled merciless, there were still people with enough strenght to laugh.

"I've never felt so free in a long time." you almost whispered to yourself. You stared at your hands and Eris let out a sigh of relief as he saw that the skin was completely healed.

He saw as you took a deep breath and closed your eyes tilting your head back toward the sky, and Eris felt the need to make you stop looking so fucking perfect while he had no right to enjoy this view.

He cleared his throat bringing his hands behind his back. "Can I dare to ask what or who you were thinking? I wouldn't want to find myself in the middle of the two of you."

You gave him a indecipherable look. "Cassian's habit to steal my breakfast."

Eris didn't hold the scoff that escaped his lips. It was clearly a lie, but he understood that. He was no one for you, there was no reason for you to trust him with your thoughts, so he didn't push, even if his stomach twisted in a payinful knot.

He smelled a light scent far behind him, and he knew that was time for you to return back at home. "We should go back before the shadowsinger cut my throat."

He turned around, needing to stop that moment before he started to believe things that couldn't be true. Not yet.

"Wait." your voice stopped him and he curiously turned around to look at you as you stood up and brushed of the grass from your dress. You walked closer to him with a steady look that made him equally unsteady. "It's time for my part of the bargain. My question."

He rose slightly his eyebrows, surprised by your sudden determination. "Go ahead."

He saw as you tried to organize your thoughts, crossing your arms as to make you more secure of yourself. "Is this side of yours part of the mask?"

Eris tilted his head, a bit confused by your question. "This side?" What were you seeing in him? What did he let slip?

"Yes, this side." You gestured with your hands at his whole person. "You, helping me and not being a total arrogant. You always make sure to make the others doubt your intentions, to doubt you. While...while the one I have in front of me is not the same male I heard the others talk about."

Eris stood there for a moment, looking into your eyes. He heard steps behind him approach, steps of someone who usually doesn't want to be heard. He slowly reached out a hand, and tuck some hair behind your ear and he smirked as he heard your breath caucht in your throat.

"Maybe I'm just manipulating you." He whispered, knowing he had few more seconds to play with you. If he couldn't have you for himself, he at least could have those reactions from you. "Maybe I want you to think I'm the good guy to use you against your precious Inner Circle. It would be quite the revenge."

"You are not moved out of revenge." Your response left him speechless for a moment. "If you wanted revenge then half of Prythian would be death."

"I could convince you to kill them for me." he stated back. He had let his hand lingering behind your ear, and now he let it slowly trace down the curve of your neck.

You breath had become clearly shorter, he could feel your heart beating through your chest, but your face betrayed nothing. He could see something flicker in your eyes, the only thing you couldn't control, but the look you were giving him was caution.

It was a game now, seeing how far he needed to go to convince you he was indeed the bad guy. Not to you. Never to you. But to everyone else. He wasn't above killing to gain what he wanted. He had lied, killed, manipulated and swore false oath to ensure the security of his people, but for you? He would kill with his bare hands an entire court to give you a throne, and it terried him.

"I told you, I won't kill for you." your voice snapped him back from his mind. You grabbed his wrist with your hand, fingers still hot with fire, and shoved it away from your neck. "You didn’t-“

“It’s time to go.” A voice cold as death stopped you in mid sentence.

Eris didn’t acknowledge the shadowsinger behind him, keeping his eyes on you. “But we were having so much fun.”

“Step away from her.” Your eyes snapped on Azriel and something twisted inside Eris as he watched you smiling at the shadowsinger and walking toward him.

Will he ever be the one receiving that smile? Will you ever walk toward him that happily?

He watched as you took Azriel’s arm and the shadows started to grow around you, ready to winnow away.

“Little flame.” Eris called after you. Your eyes found his over the wall of shadows that was forming around you. It was time for the answer, he guessed. “No, it’s not.”

Your eyes widened, and it was a pity, seriously, that he couldn’t see the rest of your face before you disappeared, because he knew it would be hilarious.

taglist: @adventure-awaits13 @blueeclipsepaperstudent @huffleruffplant @azysmate @bia-wayne-west @babypeapoddd @lady-targaryens-world@sourapplex @ghostwritermia @asteria33 @pinklemonade34 @tell-me-a-poem @speedypersonawhispers @historygeekqueen @webvics @paliketerson @lizzytish82 @tincanhat @marrass @acourtofmoonlightandstars @yasmin-oviedo @ghostwritermia @marly500

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris vanserra fic #burning flames #autumn court #acotar #acotar fic #velaris #rhysand #Morrigan #azriel #cassian #feyre archeron #elain archeron #nesta archeron #night court #acowar #acomaf

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rottenfyre · 6 months ago

Text

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐌𝐲 𝐝♡ve 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

Pairing: Unhinged Aegon x Therapist Reader part 4

Summary: you left as fast as you could. What was his gift? You were praying to god that your love be safe. But little you knew, it was just the start...

Warning: blood, mental illness.

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. Original gif by @asoiaffan ♡ Hope you enjoy!

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest like a drum as she gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white. Her breathing was shallow, frantic, as if she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Every horrible possibility ran through her mind, twisting her thoughts into a frantic knot. Her boyfriend wasn’t answering his calls. Aegon had smiled at her like he had some dark secret, that twisted, sick smile. The gift he left. What had he done?

She pressed down harder on the gas pedal, the car speeding recklessly through the empty streets. The world around her blurred as she focused solely on getting home—on finding out what was waiting for her. Her hands were trembling so violently she could barely keep the car steady. As she took a sharp turn, her tires screeched against the pavement, almost colliding with a car coming from the opposite direction.

“Shit!” she gasped, jerking the wheel back. Her pulse skyrocketed, her breath coming in short, rapid bursts. The other car honked angrily as it sped past, but Y/N didn’t care. She couldn’t think about anything except getting home.

“Aegon’s lying,” she muttered under her breath, her voice trembling. “He’s trying to scare me. He’s just… messing with me. I’ll get home, and it’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.”

But no matter how much she tried to convince herself, the fear was still there, gnawing at her insides like a festering wound. She could still hear Aegon’s voice in her head, the way he had laughed so softly, so eerily.

Did you open the gift I left you?

Y/N swallowed back the rising panic, her throat tightening. Her vision blurred with unshed tears, her heart thundering so loudly in her chest she thought it might explode. She pressed harder on the gas, speeding through another intersection without checking. Her mind was a whirlwind, screaming at her, warning her, pleading with her to turn back—but she couldn’t. She had to know. She had to see.

When she finally pulled into her driveway, she slammed on the brakes, barely giving the car time to stop before she jumped out. The moment she stepped outside, she froze.

The air was thick, heavy with a putrid smell—like something had rotted, festered. Her stomach lurched as the stench hit her full force, bile rising in her throat. It was a smell she couldn’t ignore, and it only heightened her terror. Something was wrong. Something was so wrong.

“Jacob…” Her voice cracked as she whispered her boyfriend’s name, the words barely a breath. Tears pricked her eyes as she stumbled toward the door, her legs weak and shaky. The smell only grew stronger as she got closer to the house, the kind of stench that clung to the walls, suffocating. Her mind spiraled into horrible images, and she felt her knees buckle beneath the weight of her fear.

“What did Aegon do?” she whimpered, her throat dry, her lips trembling.

She fumbled with the keys, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she unlocked the door and stepped inside. The smell hit her full force, thick and rancid, making her gag. Her eyes watered from the stench, and her mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusion. She couldn’t think straight. She couldn’t breathe.

“Jacob,” she whispered again, her voice desperate, pleading. “Please, God, no…”

Her eyes scanned the room, her vision blurry with fear. The house was eerily silent, except for the pounding of her heart in her ears. The living room was still, as if nothing had been disturbed. But then her gaze fell on something that hadn’t been there before—a large box sitting in the middle of the couch.

Y/N froze. The knot in her stomach twisted violently, her chest tightening with dread. The gift.

She took a slow, shaky step toward the box, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. The stench was overwhelming now, and her breath came in shallow gasps as she tried to steel herself, telling herself it would be okay.

“He’s messing with me. He’s messing with me. He wouldn’t…”

But her thoughts were fractured, her mind replaying Aegon’s twisted smile, his eerie laugh, the way he had hinted at something horrible waiting for her. Her steps were slow, each one more painful than the last as she forced herself closer to the box. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to stop, to run, to leave—but she couldn’t. She had to know. She had to see what he had done.

Her knees nearly gave out beneath her as she stood in front of the box. Her hands trembled violently, hovering over the lid. She squeezed her eyes shut, her breath ragged as she tried to calm herself, tried to tell herself that whatever was inside, she could handle it.

“You can do this,” she whispered to herself, her voice shaking. “It’s just a box. Just open it. Open it, and it’ll be over.”

She took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she gripped the lid. And then, just as she was about to lift it, she heard it.

“Meow.”

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, her heart skipping a beat. The sound was soft, almost delicate, and it took her a moment to process what she had heard. Slowly, with trembling hands, she lifted the lid of the box. Inside, curled up in a soft blanket, was a small golden kitten with wide, innocent eyes and a pretty blue collar around its neck.

For a moment, Y/N just stared, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. Her breath caught in her throat, and the tears that had been threatening to spill over finally broke free. She let out a sob—of relief, of exhaustion, of fear—and collapsed to her knees in front of the box.

It was just a kitten. A cute, tiny kitten. Nothing horrible. Nothing gruesome. Just… a kitten.

“Oh my God,” she choked out between sobs, her hands trembling as she reached into the box and scooped the kitten up into her arms. The kitten nuzzled against her, purring softly, and Y/N cried harder, her body shaking with the force of her relief.

She hugged the kitten tightly to her chest, pressing her face into its soft fur as she sobbed uncontrollably. The tension, the fear, the gut-wrenching panic she had felt—it all came crashing down at once, and she couldn’t hold it back. She kissed the top of the kitten’s head, her tears soaking into its fur as she whispered, “Thank you. Thank you, God. Oh my God…”

For what felt like hours, she just sat there, cradling the kitten, her body wracked with sobs of relief. The terror she had felt—the belief that she would find something horrible, something irreversibly gruesome—it all melted away, leaving her trembling and exhausted.

When she finally managed to calm herself down, she stood up, still holding the kitten in her arms. Her mind was a haze, her body weak from the emotional onslaught. As she walked toward the kitchen to find something for the kitten to eat, she noticed something strange—the smell was still there.

Her heart skipped a beat, and her stomach twisted again. She glanced around the kitchen, her eyes landing on the counter where a package of meat had been left out—rotting. The smell was coming from the meat.

Y/N almost laughed—a weak, breathless laugh. All of her fear, all of her panic, had been over rotting meat.

The realization made her feel foolish, but it also made her feel relieved. She hadn’t found her boyfriend’s body. She hadn’t found anything horrible waiting for her. Just a kitten and some rotten meat.

But as she fed the kitten and sat down on the floor, petting its soft fur, a new fear crept into her mind. Aegon’s words still echoed in her head. Why isn’t he answering your calls?

Her relief was short-lived, replaced by a sinking feeling of dread. Something was still wrong.

The doorbell rang, its sharp sound cutting through the quiet of the house. Y/N froze, her heart leaping into her throat. She held the kitten closer, her mind racing with a flood of possibilities. Was it Aegon? Had he followed her here? Her stomach twisted with fear as she slowly walked toward the door, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

With trembling hands, she peeked through the peephole. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw Jacob standing on the other side, holding a bouquet of flowers. For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe—he was alive. Jacob was standing there, perfectly fine.

She flung the door open, tears spilling down her cheeks as she threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest. “Jacob!” she cried, her voice muffled against his shirt. “Oh my God, I’m so happy you’re here. I missed you so much.”

Jacob stood there, stunned, the flowers still clutched in his hand as he blinked down at her. “Y/N… are you okay? What happened?”

But Y/N didn’t let him finish. She tightened her hold on him, her tears soaking into his shirt as she pressed her face harder into his chest. “I thought… I thought something happened to you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’ve been so scared. I missed you so much, Jacob.”

His arms wrapped around her slowly, pulling her closer as he kissed the top of her head. “I missed you too, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice soft. He held her tightly, gently rubbing her back as he tried to calm her down. “I’m here now. Everything’s okay.”

For a moment, the relief was overwhelming, and she stayed in his arms, soaking in his warmth, the familiar smell of him. It was real—Jacob was safe, and Aegon hadn’t touched him. She hadn’t lost him.

After a few moments, they moved to the couch, and Y/N wiped her tears, trying to compose herself as she sat beside him. Jacob placed the bouquet of flowers on the coffee table, a small, awkward smile on his face as he looked at her. “I brought these for you,” he said softly.

She managed a weak smile, trying to hide the lingering fear that gnawed at her insides. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

They sat in a brief, comfortable silence before Jacob sighed, his expression turning more serious. “Y/N… there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Her heart sank. Something to talk about? She suddenly had a bad feeling, the unease creeping back into her chest. But she forced a smile, trying to push the anxiety aside. “What is it?”

Jacob ran a hand through his hair, his eyes filled with hesitation. “I’ve been offered a job,” he began slowly, “but it’s far away. Really far away. I’ll have to leave soon, and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

Y/N’s mind immediately raced back to Aegon—the man who had haunted her thoughts and dreams, the man who had been tormenting her for weeks. The man who might have killed Jacob if things had gone differently. The thought of being alone, with no one to protect her from Aegon, made her stomach churn. But she swallowed her fear, forcing herself to remain calm.

She couldn’t tell Jacob about Aegon. Not now. Not after everything they’d been through. She didn’t want to fight with him again, and she certainly didn’t want him to think she was crazy.

So instead, she plastered on a smile, pretending everything was fine. “That’s… great,” she said, her voice unnaturally bright. “I’m really happy for you, Jacob.”

He looked at her, his brow furrowing with concern. “Are you sure? I know it’s sudden, and I don’t want to leave you alone—”

“I’ll be fine,” Y/N interrupted, her voice firm despite the terror creeping into her chest. “I’ll be okay. You deserve this, and I don’t want to hold you back.”

Jacob smiled, relief washing over his face. He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. “Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot to me.”

They sat together for a while longer, talking about the details of his job and the logistics of his trip. Y/N listened, nodding at all the right moments, but inside, her mind was spiraling with fear. She smiled when she was supposed to, laughed at his jokes, and even kissed him, pretending that everything was fine. But deep down, she was still terrified. Aegon was out there, lurking in the shadows, and she knew he wasn’t done with her.

Jacob leaned in, kissing her softly, his hands cupping her face. She kissed him back, holding him close, trying to savor the moment despite the dread twisting in her stomach. When they pulled apart, Jacob smiled, his eyes soft and full of love. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Jacob smiled, clearly relieved by her reaction. He leaned in and kissed her softly, and she kissed him back, pretending everything was okay. But inside, she was shaking. The terror of what Aegon had said, of what he was capable of, still gnawed at her.

When they pulled away, Jacob wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close again. Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, trying to calm her racing thoughts. She closed her eyes, breathing in his familiar scent, trying to ground herself. But the fear still lingered, festering inside her.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed on the table, and Y/N flinched, her heart jumping into her throat. She reached for it with trembling hands, her eyes widening when she saw the message on the screen.

Do you like your gift? :)

The message was from an unknown number, but Y/N didn’t need to guess who it was. She paled, her heart hammering in her chest as the blood drained from her face. Aegon.

Her breath hitched, her body going rigid as fear gripped her once again. Her mind spiraled, panic clawing at her insides. She wanted to scream, to throw the phone across the room, to run. But she couldn’t. Not in front of Jacob.

Jacob glanced over, noticing her reaction. “Who’s that?” he asked, his voice casual, but Y/N could hear the hint of curiosity.

Y/N forced a smile, quickly locking her phone and setting it back down on the table. “No one,” she said, her voice strained but steady. “Just a spam text.”

Jacob didn’t seem to notice the tremor in her voice. He nodded, leaning back against the couch as he wrapped an arm around her. “I guess it’s just me and you tonight, then,” he said with a smile.

Y/N smiled back, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Inside, she was screaming. Aegon was watching. Aegon knew.

The days after Jacob left were quiet. Too quiet, in fact. Y/N tried to keep herself busy, throwing herself into distractions to keep her mind from wandering. At least she had Fluffy, the golden kitten Aegon had given her. He was a good boy, sweet and playful, a small comfort in the silence that now filled the house. She'd named him Fluffy because of his soft fur, and he seemed to take well to her affection, curling up in her lap and purring as if he sensed her unease.

But even Fluffy couldn't drown out the constant notifications from her phone. Aegon was still texting her, not the threatening or possessive kind of messages she was used to, but almost... sad ones. He talked about how he was feeling, how much everything hurt, how lonely he was. His words were raw, like those of a lost child, begging for attention, for someone to understand him.

“| don't know what's wrong with me anymore, Y/N."

"Everything hurts."

"I can't sleep, I can't think, I can't breathe without you."

"Why don't you ever reply? Do you even think about me? Or am I just dead to you?"

But no matter how hard she tried to focus on the kitten, or the movies, or anything else, there was one thing she couldn't escape: her phone. It buzzed constantly, the screen lighting up with message after message from Aegon. At first, she didn't bother reading them. She had learned long ago that giving him any attention, any response, was like feeding a starving animal. He would latch onto it and never let go.

He mentioned Fluffy too, explaining that he got her the kitten because he wanted her to have something to make her happy, something to be her friend when she felt alone. He wanted to give her a little version of Sunfyre, his beloved cat, so that she would have a piece of him even when he couldn't be with her. Aegon just wanted her to be happy.

There were long paragraphs detailing his spirals, how he would drink until he couldn't feel anything, how the world seemed to blur around him. His words became increasingly disjointed, desperate.

"I feel like I'm disappearing. Do you even remember me?"

"I bought him for you so you wouldn't be alone. So you'd have a piece of me with you."

"I wanted you to be happy. That's all l've ever wanted."

Sometimes, Y/N felt a strange flicker of pity for him. He sounded so hurt, so lost. But every time she thought about feeling sorry for him, she reminded herself that this was Aegon. The same man who had put her through hell, the same man who had stalked her, who had terrorized her. It didn't matter how sad or broken he sounded-she couldn't trust him. She couldn't let herself fall into that trap again.

And so, she ignored him.

She never replied to his messages. She couldn't. And for a while, it seemed like that was enough. Aegon remained calm, his texts gentle, almost pleading, but never aggressive. Everything was fine, or as fine as it could be.

Until it wasn't.

One evening, Y/N noticed her phone buzzing more than usual. At first, it was just a few messages from Aegon, the usual ramblings about his day or how much he missed her. But then the texts became more frequent, coming one after another, a steady stream of notifications lighting up her screen.

He was demanding her to reply.

It wasn't a request anymore-it was an order. The tone of his messages shifted, becoming more erratic, more desperate.

"Why aren't you answering me?"

"I know you're there."

"Please, just talk to me."

The texts came faster, piling up one after another until her phone buzzed continuously. Then, the calls started.

Her phone rang and rang, Aegon's name flashing across the screen. She ignored it, her hands trembling as she tried to keep herself calm. But the ringing didn't stop. It was relentless. The sound echoed in the small living room, pounding against her skull, making her chest tighten with anxiety.

Y/N couldn't take it anymore. Her heart was racing, her hands shaking as she reached for her phone and turned it off completely. The sudden silence was deafening, but it was better than hearing Aegon's voice, than seeing his name over and over.

She tried to distract herself, to forget about the flood of messages, about the growing dread building in the pit of her stomach. She put on a movie, curled up on the couch with Fluffy, trying to lose herself in the noise of the television. But her mind kept wandering back to Aegon, to his erratic texts, his sudden shift from pitiful to demanding. Something was Wrong. She could feel it.

And then, the doorbell rang.

Y/N’s heart stopped.

Her eyes flicked to the door, her body going cold as fear washed over her. She didn’t move at first, just stared at the door, her breath shallow, her mind racing. It couldn’t be…

Slowly, she stood up, her legs trembling as she moved toward the door, careful not to make a sound. She didn’t want to look. She didn’t want to see who was standing on the other side. But she had to know.

Peeking through the peephole, her blood turned to ice.

It was Aegon.

He was standing there, his face pale and smeared with blood. His clothes were stained with it too, dark crimson splashes that looked like they’d been hastily wiped away. His hair was disheveled, his eyes wide and wild, like an animal cornered and desperate.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she watched him. He didn’t look right. He didn’t look normal. Something was horribly, horribly wrong.

And then he spoke.

“Please… let me in.”

Her breath hitched, her entire body stiffening in place. She didn't respond. She couldn't. Her throat was too tight, her mind racing too fast to form coherent thoughts. She just stood there, frozen in place, as he pressed his bloodied hand against the door, smearing it with red.

"I need you," he whispered, his voice hoarse, trembling. "Something happened. I did something bad. I don't know what to do. I don't know who to go to."

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he looked so utterly pathetic, so broken, that for a fleeting moment, Y/N almost felt sorry for him again. Almost. But the sheer terror that gripped her heart wouldn't let her move. She couldn't afford to feel sorry for him. Not now.

"I don't feel good, Y/N" Aegon sobbed, his hand sliding down the door, leaving a dark red smear behind. "Please... I just want to see you. Please. Let me in."

Y/N’s hand hovered over the doorknob, her mind a storm of confusion and fear. A part of her wanted to open the door, wanted to help him. He looked so broken, so lost. She couldn’t help but feel that same flicker of pity again, that small voice in the back of her mind whispering that maybe he really did need her, that maybe he really was just a scared, lonely boy.

But then Aegon’s face twisted, his tear-streaked expression contorting into something darker, something terrifying.

“You fucking bitch!” he snarled, slamming his fists against the door. The sudden violence made Y/N jump, her breath catching in her throat as she stumbled back, her eyes wide with terror.

“I know you’re in there!” Aegon screamed, his voice raw with rage. “You think you can hide from me?! You think I don’t fucking know?!”

He pounded on the door again, harder this time, the wood rattling under the force of his fists. “You’re mine!” he shouted, his voice cracking with fury. “I’ll fucking kill you, Y/N! I’ll rip you open! I’ll tear you apart!”

Y/N’s body went cold, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from her chest. She stumbled back, her mind screaming at her to run, to hide. She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t face him. Not like this.

Y/N's body moved on instinct, her fight-or-flight response kicking in. She ran. She bolted to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her, her heart hammering in her chest. Her hands shook so violently that she could barely turn the lock, but she did it. She locked the door and stumbled backward.

Y/N sat huddled in the tub, her entire body trembling uncontrollably, clutching Fluffy so tightly that she could feel his little heartbeat against her chest. Her breath was shallow, uneven, the fear twisting in her stomach like a knife. She pressed her hand over her mouth, trying to silence the sobs that threatened to escape. If she made a sound—any sound—he would know where she was.

The front door had crashed open. Aegon was inside. He didn’t call out anymore; the apartment had gone terrifyingly quiet except for the slow, deliberate thud of his footsteps. Each step echoed through the empty rooms, growing louder, heavier. He was searching for her.

Her mind raced, each frantic thought more horrifying than the last.

He’s going to find me. He’s going to kill me.

Her heart hammered so violently in her chest that she thought it might explode. The apartment was small; there weren’t many places to hide. He would check the bedroom soon. It was only a matter of time before he found her.

Stay quiet. Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Maybe he’ll leave. Maybe he’ll think you’re not here.

But the thought was ridiculous. He knew she was here. He had known from the moment he’d started pounding on the door. He could feel her fear, her presence, like a shark smelling blood in the water.

The footsteps grew closer.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing herself against the cold, hard surface of the tub. Her grip tightened around Fluffy, who had gone still in her arms, sensing the terror in the air. She could hear Aegon’s footsteps in the hallway now, slow and methodical, as if he were savoring the anticipation.

Don’t come in here. Please, don’t come in here.

The bedroom door creaked open.

Her entire body went rigid, her breath catching in her throat. She bit down on her lower lip so hard that she tasted blood, forcing herself to stay still, stay quiet. Her chest ached from the effort of holding her breath. Every muscle in her body screamed in agony from the tension, but she didn’t dare move. She didn’t dare make a sound.

The silence was unbearable. The only thing she could hear was the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears, each thud a countdown to her doom.

The floorboards creaked. He was inside the room now.

Her mind was racing, a whirlwind of fear and desperation. What do I do? What can I do?

Run? No, he was too close. He would hear her. He would catch her. There was nowhere to run.

Fight? With what? She had nothing. She was defenseless. He was stronger than her, and she had seen the blood. She had no idea what he was capable of.

Hide. Just hide. Stay quiet.

She could hear him moving through the room, the soft scrape of his shoes against the floor. He wasn’t saying anything, but the silence was more terrifying than his screaming had ever been. It was the silence of someone who knew exactly what they were going to do. The silence of someone who was in control.

He’s looking for me. Her stomach twisted into a knot of terror.

The sound of a drawer being yanked open, then another. He was checking everywhere. She could picture him tearing through the room, methodically searching every corner, every shadow. Her heart thudded in her chest, so loud she thought for sure he could hear it. Can he hear it? The thought sent a fresh wave of panic surging through her.

Please, please, just leave.

Suddenly, the air in the room shifted. Y/N’s breath hitched as she realized he was standing right outside the bathroom door. She could hear his breathing now, low and ragged, like a beast just beyond the threshold.

He knows. He knows I’m in here.

Her whole body locked up in terror as she imagined him standing there, staring at the door, his bloodshot eyes wide and crazed, his hands still covered in blood. Her mind conjured up horrifying images of him busting through, grabbing her, and dragging her out of the tub, his fingers sinking into her flesh.

He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me and I’ll never see daylight again.

Fluffy shifted slightly in her arms, a soft, almost imperceptible meow escaping his tiny throat. Y/N’s breath hitched, terror flashing through her veins like electricity. No, no, no, no, no.

The bathroom door handle rattled.

She froze. Every inch of her body turned to ice. The metal handle creaked as Aegon twisted it, testing the lock. It didn’t open, but he was trying. He was there. Just on the other side.

Her entire world shrank to that single sound—the soft, rhythmic rattling of the door handle as Aegon tried to get in. It felt like hours passed as she sat there, paralyzed in the tub, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for him to break through.

And then, with a sickening thud, the door slammed.

He was pounding on it now, harder and harder, the force of his blows making the door tremble. Each hit reverberated through her, shaking her down to her core.

Oh god, he’s coming in. He’s going to get in.

The doorframe groaned under the pressure, the wood splintering. Y/N pressed herself further into the tub, trying to make herself as small as possible, her heart racing so fast it felt like it might burst. Her breathing was shallow, her chest tight with fear. Every instinct screamed at her to move, to run, but she couldn’t. She was trapped.

The door cracked. She could hear the wood giving way.

Oh god, he’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me.

But then… silence.

The pounding stopped.

She blinked, her breath catching in her throat. Was it over? Did he leave?

Her body trembled, her muscles aching from the tension. She didn’t dare move. She didn’t dare make a sound. She just waited, listening.

Nothing. No footsteps. No breathing. Just the eerie, deafening quiet.

Slowly, cautiously, she lifted her head, straining to hear something—anything. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Maybe he had given up. Maybe he was gone.

But then, out of nowhere, a loud, sickening crash shattered the silence.

Y/N’s blood ran cold. She whipped her head toward the source of the sound, her heart seizing in her chest.

Aegon’s face smashed through the small window in the bathroom door, the glass shattering around him. His bloodshot eye stared through the broken pane, wide and unblinking, searching. His face was smeared with blood, his skin pale and stretched tight over his bones, but it was his eye—his one, crazed, bloodshot eye—that was the most terrifying.

It was staring right at where she was hiding.

Did he saw me? Did he saw me? Oh god. I'm dead. I'm dead.

Y/N slapped her hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her face as she tried to stifle her breathing, her whole body trembling uncontrollably. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying that he couldn’t see her, that he couldn’t hear the terrified gasps that escaped her despite her best efforts.

Don’t breathe. Don’t move. He can’t see you. He can’t see you.

But his eye… it was right there, inches from her, staring through the broken glass with a wild, unhinged intensity. His breathing was heavy, ragged, echoing in the small space as he scanned the room, looking for her. His hand reached through the broken window, the bloodied fingers scraping against the door, searching, clawing.

Y/N’s heart thundered in her chest, her pulse so loud she thought for sure he could hear it. Her entire body shook with fear, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. She pressed her hand harder against her mouth, trying to muffle the sounds of her sobs.

Please don’t find me. Please, god, don’t find me.

For what felt like an eternity, Aegon stayed there, his face pressed against the door, his eye wide and frantic, his breath fogging up the glass. He didn’t say anything, didn’t scream or yell. He just… looked.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.

He pulled back, his bloodied hand retreating through the shattered window. His footsteps echoed through the apartment once again, slow and deliberate, growing fainter and fainter until they finally disappeared altogether.

He was gone.

Y/N stayed there, curled up in the bathtub, her body trembling violently, tears streaming down her face as she clutched Fluffy to her chest. She didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She didn’t even breathe properly, too scared to believe that it was really over.

When she was sure he was gone, she let out a strangled, shaky breath and crawled out of the tub, her legs weak and shaking. Fluffy stayed behind, still curled up in the tub, too scared to move.

Her fingers fumbled for her phone, but she had turned it off earlier. With shaking hands, she powered it on, and as soon as the screen flickered to life, she called the police.

But even as she pressed the phone to her ear, the sound of her own heartbeat drowned everything else out.

How about you? Did you like this part?

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

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internetpuppetgxrl · 27 days ago

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Sleeping in the Shadows - a Shadow Milk x Reader One Shot

au where shadow milk is a sleep paralysis monster, kinda like the boogeyman

You couldn’t sleep.

No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t sleep.

You had multiple instances of getting out of bed to get a snack, some water, go to the bathroom, or just do whatever. All in that order, over and over. Staring up at your ceiling, you let out a long and loud sigh. Your eyes fluttered a bit then you decided you’d try counting sheep. That always worked, right?

1…

2…

3…

4…

Oh, wait.

You suddenly remembered an old urban legend you heard told multiple times in multiple different ways. It even had an episode about it on an old tv show you used to watch as a kid that was all about scary stories. The story was about a strange cookie called Shadow Milk. Legend has it he’d come for those who couldn’t sleep, and counting sheep was one of the ways to summon him. Depending on how many you counted before you gave up, he’d appear to you and ask you which of the sheep you counted is real, and which one is just an illusion. If you guessed correctly, you’d be rewarded. If not, you’d be dragged either in your closet or under your bed, into his spire, and he’d turn you into his puppet to dance in his twisted shows forever and ever.

Some versions of the story would have him come to those who played card games at sleepovers, in some he’d come to those who were up past their bedtime, which was the version you watched in the tv show. In some you could just summon him by putting a joker card in front of your closet door, telling a good amount of lies and then sliding it under, and of course the game with the sheep would begin, with the amount of lies being the same amount of sheep that were present. Sometimes, instead of sheep, you’d have to answer questions, and if your answer was a lie, his appearance would become more and more terrifying, before he finally took you and made you his puppet. But no need to reminisce on the past, that’s just a little legend anyways. It’s a nice story, but it’s not real at all!

Right?

You smiled remembering that show you used to watch and the one episode that actually managed to scare you, which wasn’t the one about Shadow Milk, oddly enough. Your sweet nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a bleat. You jolted up in terror and looked around, only to see there was nothing there. You calmed your breathing and laid back down. “Maybe I should stop thinking about that, for now, at least.” You mumbled to yourself as you stretched your back in your bed. After a moment of silence, you heard the sound of a music box. Only problem is,

You don’t own a music box.

And you’ve never heard that melody before.

Peeking out over your covers, you were too afraid to even move. You had no idea where that music was coming from, and you did NOT wanna find out anytime soon! You covered yourself up with the blankets and laid under there nice and still, covering your mouth with your hands. A blue glow was coming from outside, but no matter what, you’d never take them off. The music came to a halt after what felt like way longer than the minute it was playing for. You peeked an eye out from your hiding spot, and there was nothing there. You shuffled out of hiding and went back to sleep as normal, convincing yourself you were just sleep deprived.

“Well there you are…~”

What… was that? WHO was that? You opened your eyes, and a man in a blue harlequin outfit sat in front of you on the edge of your bed. He smiled at you and your closet in front of you was full of glowing blue eyes watching you. “There’s no way…” you thought to yourself. “A-are you… n-no… no it can’t be… shadow-“

“Shadow Milk Cookie? The great and powerful? Who else?” You lay there, eyes widened. You could not believe it! The very urban legend himself, right in your house, right at your bed, right now! “Yes, yes, hold your applause. I heard someone can’t sleep. Someone’s been a bad, bad cookie, huh? Good cookies should be put to bed right away, but look at you, all wide awake like it’s nothing!” Your voice was shaky as you replied, “I- I’m sorry, I, I promise I was trying to g-go to sleep but I-“ He interrupted and held a finger up to you, “Shhhhh… I know, Y/N Cookie, I know. Which is why… we’re gonna play a game! Since you know me so so so so so well, I think you know what you’ve got to do, yes?” You nodded “Yeah. I gotta figure out the sheep that’s not fake, got it.” He clapped his hands, “What a smart cookie you are! Oh, you must be a HUGE fan! Let’s see… what number did you count to? Five? Ah yes, Five!” Shadow Milk snapped his fingers, and on cue 5 sheep came out of your closet. You didn’t really want to think about how this was possible, you wanted to focus on figuring it out. “Think reeeeeal hard, Y/N Cookie. You got this!”

You looked real hard at each one, eyes scanning over the herd. Their blue eyes eerily glowed as you tried hard to spot the odd one out, but they all just looked so similar, you had no idea. Your index finger began to tremble as a tear formed from your fear. You really didn’t feel like being turned into a puppet. The idea of being bound to strings and losing all your will was… everything but pleasant. “Awww~ There, there, Y/N Cookie.” He began to pat you on the head, “There’s no need for those crocodile tears! You’ve got all the time in the world! Unless… that is, unless I get too bored waiting!” You swallowed, and went with your gut and made a decision. “That one! That one there!”

“Oh?”

Your finger was pointed to the second sheep in the row. “I-it’s that one. I-I think that one is the real… sh-sheep…” You almost began to hyperventilate. There was no going back now. You looked to Shadow Milk Cookie, who was smiling. He stood there, watching you shiver with anticipation. The silence felt like an eternity till he began to slowly clap his hands and opened his mouth.

“So you HAVE been listening to the whispers of deceit!”

You sighed in relief. “So I… So I got it right?” He nodded his head, “Mmhmm, mmhmm, mmhmm! That’s right! Look at you! Such a good (girl/boy/cookie), doing the homework! I’m so proud of you!” He gave you a pat on the back, which made you flinch a bit. “Well, now that playtime’s over, I think it’s only fair I give you the sweet relief of slumber you crave.” He took a fistful of something out of his pocket, “But rest assured, I will be back, and I cannot wait to play with you again! Now then… Ready, Y/N?” You sighed and laid down on your bed, falling onto the pillow. “Heh! I’ll take that as a “yes” then!” He opened up his hand and blew a shiny blue powder in your direction. The blue dust made you sleepier and sleepier till you couldn’t help but drift off. Shadow Milk Cookie turned to exit from your closet into his Spire of Deceit. He turned his head to get a good look at how peaceful his new playmate looked all bundled up with their head in the dream world.

“I shall see you later~!”

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sweetfictionalworld · 3 months ago

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The Deal - Chapter 2

Pairing: Hwang In-Ho/ The Front Man x Female Reader

Story Summary: You get suspicious of Player 001 and confront him. That decision leads to a deal that will change the fate of your life forever.

Chapter Summary: Conversation with the enemy.

Warnings: None for this chapter. NSFW warnings will be added in future chapters.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

In-Ho had left to join the players, he couldn't be gone for long to risk someone wondering about him. You didn't really know what to do, so you turned on the big screen in front of the armchair. Your stomach churned when you saw what was on. The next game. So, this is how In-Ho liked to entertain himself? Watching people get murdered? You felt sick just thinking about it.

You turned it off and started examining the room. There wasn't much there, but you did find some books to read and a bathroom. Well, thank God for that. At least now, you didn't have to wait for permission every time you needed to use the restroom.

You didn't know how much time had went by when the door opened and a guard with a square on his mask walked inside. He was carrying a black box with a pink bow on it. Your pulse quickened as flashes of the dead players being put into boxes went through your mind.

"The Front Man wants you to take a shower and then put this on," the guard said and handed you the box.

The Front Man? So that was what they called him?

You took the box out of the guard's hand and he left without another word. You looked down at the box with curiosity and carefully took off the lid. Your eyes widened as you took out the gorgeous, golden silk dress and a matching pair of high heels. The dress was ankle long with thin straps and an open back. At the bottom of the box, there was a pair of golden silk thongs to match the dress. Wow...and he even had all of your sizes right.

The warm water on your skin felt rejuvenating. It almost melted away all your thoughts and emotions you'd experienced since you'd woken up in the bunk bed.

You looked at the stranger looking back at you in the mirror. Where was the joyful person from a year ago? Before your husband died and left you with all his debts you couldn’t possibly pay, debts he hadn't even told you about. Fuck, you hated him for that. You sighed and slid the thong up your hips, and shimmied into the dress, let the soft material glide down your body. You ran your fingers through your wet hair, wishing you had a hairbrush. You slipped into the high heels and made a grimace. You'd never been a fan of them.

There was a set table waiting for you outside, with lit candle lights and a beautiful bouquet of flowers in the center. What was this? You took a few steps forward and that's when you saw In-Ho standing at a bar counter, opening a bottle of wine. He looked up, his eyes twinkling up with interest when he saw you, his gaze slowly taking in your appearance with appreciation. He put down the bottle and approached you with a confident gait. You could feel your heart racing and your breath hitching from his closeness as he stood before you, and his gloved fingers slowly running up your bare arm.

"You look exquisite, y/n," he said in a hushed tone as his gaze followed the trail of his fingers. The mix of his deep voice and touch sent a jolt of arousal through your core and settled between your legs. Fuck, you didn't want to feel this way about this man. You despised everything he was doing here and hated your body for reacting this way.

In-Ho's lips curved up into a smirk and you knew. You knew he knew exactly how your body was reacting to him. Well, fuck him. He wasn't going to have the higher ground here. So, you held your head high and looked him straight in the eyes.

"If you're trying to woo me with a candle light dinner, it won't work. I might have agreed to give you my body, but you will never have my soul."

In-Ho only smirked wider in return and you hated him more.

"Please sit down, y/n. Dinner will be served soon," In-Ho said and smirked at the glare you gave him. Oh, he would have so much fun with you.

You hated to admit how good it felt to get a real meal of food in your stomach. And the red wine...you rolled it in your mouth, taking in every detailed taste of it. It was delicious.

"So, how did your husband come to have such high debts?" In-Ho asked and took a sip of his wine while fixing his gaze on you.

You looked at him, surprised by his question.

"Uhm...well, you know. The usual stuff. Addiction to gambling, spending money he didn't have. That sort of thing."

In-Ho nodded in acknowledgement.

"What about you? How did you become...this?" you asked, motioning to his appearance.

In-Ho smiled. "You know, I was once the winner of the game."

You almost choked on your wine and stared at him in disbelief.

"Really?"

In-Ho nodded. "I needed the money for my sick wife. But in the end, it didn't matter. My wife died, and I had nothing to live for out there anymore. So they offered me to be the overseer of the games."

"They?"

"The one who created the game."

"Why are you telling me all of this? Your name, your backstory."

In-Ho shrugged his shoulders. "I guess...It feels good to have someone to talk to again."

You studied his face, every beautifully carved feature, and you could see the sadness written in them, but also the longing for something more. Perhaps, deep in his heart, he didn't want to be this cold, ruthless person.

"Well, It seems like I'm not going anywhere, so you can talk as long as you like," you said in a joking tone and smiled at him, trying to lighten the heaviness of the situation you were in.

In-Ho looked at you and smiled back, and the soft chuckle coming from his mouth warmed the inside of your chest in ways you didn't want it too.

~ to be continued...

#hwang in ho x reader #hwang in ho smut #in ho x reader #the front man x reader #the front man #hwang in ho #squid game fanfiction #squid game imagine #squid game smut #squid game #squid game fanfic #player 001 x reader #player 001 #player 001 smut #the front man fanfiction #the front man smut #squid game season 2 #in ho squid game #in ho smut

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httpwintersoldier · 2 months ago

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『sweet little thing p.4 | b. barnes x reader』

pairing: bucky barnes x afab!reader words: it's very long, I don't even know how many parts it's going to have summary: what happens when the guy you have a crush on happens to have a dad, who is older, hotter and rougher? 『 part 1 』『 part 2 』『 part 3 』『 part 4 』

fluff ; angst ; smut

As you stood in front of your university's building, it suddenly looked a lot bigger and a lot scarier. You had no idea if Andy had told everyone else about what had gone down over the weekend, but you felt exposed already.

Each step forward was dreadful, you walked in autopilot. The blur in your vision and the ringing in your ears were such that you didn't even notice your group of friends calling for you. It was only when Jas walked over to you that you snapped out of your hypnotic state.

"Y/N? Is everything okay? We were calling for you..." She asked, searching your face.

You forced a smile and awkwardly laughed.

"You were? My bad, I was distracted." It wasn't a lie, you were distracted, but it wasn't the whole truth either.

Your friend frowned a little, but if you were making up an excuse then it was because you didn't want to talk about whatever you were going through, so she just let it go and brought you over to the place they were sitting at.

Anxiety started building up within you and you couldn't breathe as you approached the group - you didn't know if you were ready to face the consequences of your actions...

Thankfully, Andy hadn't arrived yet, and, from the way they all greeted you and spoke normally, it didn't seem like Andy had told them anything.

Being around your friends eased your mind and body, and, after a couple of minutes, you had forgotten about the reason why you had been so nervous.

That is, until the reason arrived.

"Hello, everyone."

You froze in place. The only available seat was next to you, which was fortunate, because at least you wouldn't risk making accidental eye contact with Andy.

Everyone greeted the friend, you included. He wasn't in a great mood, and everyone noticed - Andy was usually bright and chirpy from sunrise to sunset, however he seemed gloomy and tired, it was very unlike him.

The group ignored whatever was going on for as long as possible, but the conversation wasn't flowing and, at some point, the tension spread through the group and became unbearable.

"Okay, I can't pretend anymore, what the fuck happened between you two? Why is there such an awkward atmosphere in here?" Jas finally asked.

It was obvious, from the change in behaviours that came from the two of you, that you and Andy were the source of it all. The question was genuine and simple in Jas' mind, however she didn't know the Pandora's box she had just opened.

"Did you fuck or something? Was it terrible and now you can't face each other?" One of the guys joked, only furthering the awkwardness.

The friend to his right smacked his arm, but it was too late. Andy's body tensed up and he scoffed, glancing to the side.

"It wasn't me she fucked."

The statement hit everyone like a truck. The whole group wondered what that meant, but from the context clues, they picked up that you had gotten with someone close to him. Your hands balled up in fists and your world started spinning as cold sweat ran down your back.

"Whoa, what does that mean? Did one of you-" One of the guys started, pointing at the two other men at the table, but he was cut off.

"She fucked my dad."

The table went silent. Shock and disbelief painted on everyone's faces, and your anxious eyes skimmed every single one of them, looking for the least bit of sympathy.

"What?" One of them busted out, not fully convinced that he had heard correctly.

"Y/N, did that really happen?" Jas asked, trying her best to sound understanding in face of the situation.

You couldn't look at her. You looked at your hands, still balled up in your lap, and nodded.

"Like once, or?..." Another punch to the man's arm.

"Dude!" One of them called out his friend's ridiculousness and lack of awareness.

"What?! Like you're not asking yourselves the same!" He defended.

"I..." All eyes were on you, you could feel them, you could feel Andy's sorrow and hatred, as well as everyone else's curiosity and confusion "I didn't mean to do it, I don't think he did either. It just sort of... happened. And we kept in contact and..."

You were tying to be as broad as possible with the details, as to not hurt Andy (or disgust him), but he still stood up abruptly and began walking away.

"Andy! Wait!" Courage shot through you as you went after him and grabbed his wrist "I'm sorry, I really am, please... Believe me."

He turned around to face you, his crystal eyes covered with a layer of tears.

"What do you want from me? Forgiveness? Understanding? Well, I can't give you either of them. I liked you- fuck, I still do! So I'm sorry if I can't sit back and support you and... and my dad. So please, leave me alone. Maybe one day I'll get over it, but not right now, not in the foreseeable future."

You slowly let go of his hand, and a little sob escaped his lips. Not a single word was uttered as he turned around and began walking away.

You slumped back on the seat you had been sitting in, surrounded by your friends.

"I should go check on him..." One of the guys said, as he stood up and followed the way Andy had gone.

The others didn't follow, as they knew the boy would feel overwhelmed by too many people crowding him in such a vulnerable moment.

You felt Jas softly place her hand on your back, and you could see from your peripheral that she had told the other two boys to take leave as well. They patted your shoulder as they walked away, their boy-ish way of saying "good luck".

"You know what the worst part is?" You asked Jas, unable to look her in the eye.

She didn't respond, simply letting you air out whatever it was you needed to air out.

"I don't regret it. And if I somehow went back in time, I would do it again." You started "It felt like I was being pulled to him, I couldn't think of anything that didn't include him, and when we finally got together... it just felt so right."

You stopped for a second to catch your breath and wipe the tears. You lifted your head and looked at Jas, that had nothing but a pitiful expression on her face.

"It's fucked up I-I know, especially when I liked Andy. When I started going to his house I was so excited because that meant I was getting closer to my goal, but then I saw Buck- Mr. Barnes, and my world was flipped upside down. I can't pretend I don't know him, and I can't go back and pretend I don't feel like this, not when I see him whenever I look at Andy."

Your friend sighed and shook her head - what a mess. She wrapped her arm around you and squeezed your body, in a show of support.

"I'm not gonna sit here and pretend it's not fucked up to sleep with your friend's dad, especially when that friend likes you, but I'm also not going to pretend you're a villain for following your heart. It's a really complicated situation, Y/N... I really don't know what to say."

"I just... I feel sorry for Andy, but it's not a situation that I want to stop. Bucky is such a great person."

There was a small silence between the two of you, and it was clear Jas was itching to ask something.

"Am I allowed to ask what happened? And how it happened?"

"Holy shit, sweetheart... Rough day?" Bucky asked, as he kissed the top of your head and walked into your house.

"That bad, huh?" You chuckled, closing the door behind you "I guess I look like how I feel..."

You stared at how his biceps flexed as he removed his jacket and tossed it on the couch. When he turned around and saw your eyes fixated on his build, Bucky chuckled. He gently grabbed your hand as he walked to the couch, and pulled you down to his lap. The man's large arms wrapped around you, and his thumb drew shapes on your thigh as you got comfortable.

"You said we needed to talk, everything okay?" There was a glimpse of worry in his eyes, and a hint of concern in his voice as he asked that.

"My group of friends know about it..." You simply said.

Bucky's grip on you tightened at those words, and his body stiffened.

"Are you okay? What did they say?"

You sighed and turned to look at him.

"They were perplexed, mostly. And confused. I don't blame them for that... Things were a bit tense the rest of the day, the group was pretty separated, I don't think anyone knows how to feel about the whole thing."

"They didn't give you a rough time?"

You shook your head negatively.

"I think I'm the one giving myself the hardest time, it's weird. I feel guilty, but I would still have done it if we turned back in time." Bucky smiled a little at the confession, and kissed your temple lovingly. "How about you? How's Andy treating you?"

Bucky sighed, there had been a lot of that going around you recently.

"The first day he didn't sleep at home, I don't know where he slept and I was worrying all night, but if I called he wouldn't have picked up, and if I texted he wouldn't have replied, probably would have pissed him off more... He sleeps there now, at least, I try to talk to him but he's still hurting..." The man paused and swallowed, trying not to cry "I broke his trust, I know it's going to take time, but fuck, it hurts. I can't imagine how he's feeling, and it sucks not being able to be there for him 'cause I'm the source of it all but I haven't felt this way about someone in a long time. I feel like a damn school boy around you, Y/N."

Tears gathered in your eyes as you got to see the vulnerable side of someone like Bucky - a big, strong army man that almost looked mean and cold when you first saw him. You pulled his head against your chest and pet his head.

"His anger towards you will pass, you didn't know he liked you. What I did was worse, I knew exactly what he wanted, and I took it from him."

"His anger towards you will also pass, Bucky..."

He looked up at you with those beautiful eyes, now tear-stained and pain-stricken. The sight was a beautiful tragedy... You wiped away his tears with the sleeve of your sweater.

"How can you be so sure?"

"You're his dad, that bond is a lot deeper than some girl." You joked, with a small laugh.

"I don't think you realize just how special you are, and how much the simple thought of losing you hurts."

You and Bucky had spent too much time crying and thinking about all of the things that had gone down the past weekend, so when his army pal hit him up and asked him if he wanted to go for a drink, he found it to be the perfect escape for the night.

He didn't want to leave you alone, but you insisted that you'd need a long shower (and some makeup) and that it would take time, more time than you wanted him to wait, so you assure him you were fine and told him you'd meet him there.

Admittedly, you felt uncomfortable walking into the bar, it was a stereotypical "manly" place, with a pool table, chairs that dated back to before you were born, and no sight of a drink that wasn't a beer or a whiskey. You weren't dressed appropriately, you figured, as your little red dress (that you had worn to tease Bucky) was drawing a lot of attention.

You spotted "Mr. Barnes" near the bar, talking to two men and walked over to him, avoiding the stares and comments from the random men around you.

"Come on Buck, she's what? Twenty? What do you even talk about? What do you even have in common?" The tall, blonde man that Bucky was talking to said.

You held back a smile and placed one arm around Bucky's waist. He hadn't seen you coming, since his back was facing the door, but the man's face instantly lit up when he looked found that the person touching him was you.

"I'd say we have some... tastes in common, so to speak." You said, with a smile, winking at the blonde that instantly went red.

Bucky smirked at the dirty joke, and his expression was one of pride. One of his hands tapped your butt lightly, as if saying "good job", and you smiled.

You didn't take the man's comment in the wrong way, you were sure he was just looking out for his friend, but it did kind of hurt your ego that he thought you were some airhead with no real content to herself just because of your age.

"Y/N, that's Steve, my best-friend, we were in the army together," Bucky began, hinting at the tall blonde in front of him, whose face was red with embarrassment "and that's Sam. I don't like him, but he's always around."

"Real nice, Buck." Sam said, making Bucky smile faintly, a smile that he discreetly hid by taking a sip of whiskey.

"I'm sorry about my comment, miss."

"That's okay, sir," you said, mocking how proper the man sounded "I know there's a big age difference between us, but I like the guy."

Steve smiled softly, still embarrassed he'd been caught in that situation, but glad you hadn't taken offense to the comment.

"What are you drinking, sweetheart?" Bucky asked you, and although he was talking to you, his gaze was everywhere but on your eyes.

You had no idea how many drinks he had had before your arrival, but he didn't even try to hide his hungry gaze as his eyes fixated on several parts of your body.

"Espresso Martini?" You asked.

"Ooh she's a fancy one. I don't think they do anything here that mixes more than two drinks." Sam joked with a laugh.

"Didn't think so either," you laughed "but it was worth a try! I'll have a vodka redbull, then."

"Comin' right up, sweetheart." Bucky said, and turned to the bar to order.

"So, he told us how you met..." There was a hint of awkwardness in Steve's voice as he said that.

"Not under the best pretext, no..." You replied, nervously fixing your hair "It's a little awkward as it is, but I'm hoping for a good outcome."

"Sounds like you're here to stay." Sam chirped in, with a suggestive face.

"I sure hope she is!" Bucky's voice was lower than usual, his eyes were half-lidded and his cheeks were a pretty pink colour.

The man pressed a kiss to your temple and circled your waist with his arm as he handed you your drink. You giggled at his roaming hand and stared at him.

"How many of those have you had?" You asked, pointing at his cup.

Bucky looked at his drink and shrugged. You and his friends shared a laugh at his state - it was obvious that Steve was also not at 100% capacity, and Sam walked towards the same state, you'd just have to catch up to them.

You hadn't eaten much before leaving the house, as you didn't want Bucky and his friends to wait for you for too long, so a couple drinks (mixed with the fact that the bartender had been going 50/50 on the vodka and redbull quantities) had you in the same state as the trio.

Your body leaned against Bucky's for extra balance, and the latter didn't mind the closeness at all. The four of you were having a fun time, laughing at the old war stories and anecdotes from the young James Barnes and sharing stories, when a group of four men approached you.

"Hey there princess, how about you ditch the fossils and come hang out with us, we can show you a real good time."

They looked out of place in the bar (although so did you) - they wore different polo shirts and tight jeans, too tight for their own good, you reckoned. They weren't too tall, but their muscular build certainly asserted dominance.

You could feel Bucky's body tense behind you, and you could see from your peripheral how the three men sized up the other men with their eyes.

"I don't... I don't think I will."

"What? You want to spend your night with grandpa?" The tallest of the trio, a bald man with tattoos on his arms, scoffed and walked towards you, placing his arm on your shoulder.

He didn't even have time to continue his sentence, Bucky slammed down his drink and gripped the man's hand. The male forcefully removed the other guy from you, twisting his arm behind his back and kicking him in the back of the leg, causing his knees to buckle.

"I believe she said no, Caillou." Bucky growled through gritted teeth.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, old man?! Think you can fight?" Another one of them asked, pulling Bucky up by the collar of his shirt.

Before a third one could join in, Steve let go of his drink and stood in front of the man.

"Going somewhere, pal?" Steve asked, with a small smirk that displayed not happiness, but adrenaline.

"Come on, I wouldn't want to scratch up your pretty face." The other male mocked, patting Steve's cheek lightly.

Bucky's best friend simply laughed, before punching his opponent, whom stumbled back. He then threw another punch to the side of the man's face, the side that was not covered by his palms, and delivered a blow to the man's stomach, which sent him stumbling back.

"I wouldn't worry about it." Steve mocked back, looking at the man, crouching on the floor while holding his torso and face.

Bucky kept the guy that had touched you on the floor, but two others were on him. He punched and kicked, but it was a 2 versus 1 situation, and so Bucky got handed some devastating blows.

"I gotta get new friends..." Sam said, upon seeing the scene, before downing his drink in one go and stepping forward into the fight.

All you could do was stand there and watch, with a horrified expression and hands over your chest, as your boyfriend and his friends became a mess of flying wrists and arms.

Your head was spinning and you didn't know what to do, but one thing was for certain: seeing Bucky fight so wildly to defend you and your peace... it was hot.

"I'm really sorry guys... I didn't mean to cause all that." You apologized sincerely.

"Are you kidding?" Bucky scoffed "Those guys had it coming."

"Yeah, plus, it was kind of fun." Steve agreed, much to your surprise "I wish we hadn't gotten banned from the bar but..."

"I wish we hadn't gotten beaten up." Sam chimed in, making everyone laugh.

After being kicked out of the bar, none of you was in a decent state to drive home, so you just decided to walk - to sober up and calm down. Bucky noticed how your heels were dangling from your hands, and as his eyes dropped to your feet, he realized you had been walking barefoot.

"Come on, get on my back." He said, as he knelt down to make it easy for you.

"What? You can't be serious, Bucky, you're all beat up." You told him, eyeing his state.

"Wasn't an offer, sweetheart."

After that it was hard to stop the fire from spreading through your body. The boys kept on talking, but you could only focus on how close Bucky's body was to yours - your chest pressed against his back, his arms tangled with your legs, and your thighs gripping his waist.

"The state of your face, Bucky..." You complained to him, as you knelt between his legs, holding his face in one hand and the first aid kit in the other.

There was a small gash on his bottom lip, cuts on his jaw and forehead, and a bruise was already forming on his cheek.

"I've had worse." The man joked, hinting at the fact that he had served in the army, but you didn't laugh, you were too worried about his state "Come on, sweetheart, it's not that bad."

You looked at him with a serious expression, conveying how worried you were for him, and climbed on his lap, so you could work on "fixing" his face. You opened the first aid kit and began scolding him.

"Bucky... You can't get into fights every time some asshole hits on me..." You told him, as you applied some medicine to his cuts.

The man hissed at the stinging sensation on his lip.

"If I can't do that, then what do I have to give you?" He was smiling, but there was a glimpse of sadness in his eyes.

You put down the cotton swab and the bottle of medicine and looked into his eyes.

"What does that mean, James?" You asked, with eyebrows furrowed in sorrow.

Bucky sighed, and his hands ran up and down your thighs, before giving them a squeeze.

"You heard them, sweetheart, I'm old... I'm holdin' up pretty well but-"

You shut him up with a kiss, before he could say anything else.

"You're not old, Bucky. Let's start with that, you're talking as if you're some decrepit thing, you're beautiful. You do realize that I'm not exactly lacking when it comes to options of young guys, right? If I cared about age I would have a pretty wide catalog in the university I go to, you are just what I was looking for, just what I needed - and I didn't even know I needed you before I met you."

His eyes were full of emotion, and he couldn't express any of them. The only thing he could do to paint an image of what he was feeling was grab the back of your head and bring you forward, locking your lips in a tender kiss. You had never experienced such feelings in a kiss before, and the two of you had kissed many, many times. There was sorrow, sadness, gratitude, admiration, and love.

One of his large hands brought you closer, as if you were still too far away for his liking. As your kiss deepened and his tongue became more creative, your hips rolled against his, feeling his already hardened cock under you. A strained moan was muffled by your lips, and the two of you pulled away.

"I'd love to fuck you right now," he began, slapping your ass and grabbing your cheeks in the middle of the sentence "but my whole body is sore..." The man lamented.

Biting your lip, you undid his zipper and pulled his pants down slightly, just enough so you could comfortably pull his cock out from the confinement of his underwear.

You climbed down from his lap, spreading his legs gently so you could fit in between.

"Tonight, I'll take care of you." You told him, as you gripped the base of his cock and teased its tip with your tongue.

"Fuck..." He muttered under a sigh of relief, as he momentarily threw his head back against the wall.

You lips slid up and down his shaft and his tip hit against the back of your throat. As you hollowed your cheeks and pressed your tongue flat against the base of his cock, you felt Bucky gathering your hair in his fist, a makeshift ponytail so he could see you as well as possible.

His hips thrusted slightly, following your movements. You could tell he was holding himself back. Bucky's chest rose and fall, and a plethora of groans and curses left his lips.

You looked up, curiosity getting the best of you, and it was the most beautiful view. Bucky's mouth was agape, his eyebrows furrowed with pleasure, and his eyes had a dark veil of ecstasy. As his pupils met yours, he muttered another curse under his breath.

"Don't look at me with those eyes, pretty girl, or I won't last."

You pulled away from his cock, a string of spit connecting your lips to his tip.

"Let's pick up the pace then." You teased as you stood.

You pulled your dress up just enough to remove your panties and got back on his lap. No preparation was needed, as his state alone was enough for wetness to spread between your legs.

The man just watched as you gripped his cock and easily slid down his shaft. Your moans mixed and bounced off the walls. Bucky's hands gripped your ass and you gripped his shoulders as you began to move up and down.

His eyes traveled down your body, focusing on the red dress that had been teasing him all night long.

"Fuck... you and these pretty little things you like to wear... I wanted to fuck you over the counter of that bar the second I saw you..." Bucky said in your ear, kissing the spot directly under it.

That incited a loud moan from you, as you picked up the pace. Bucky's body worked in sync with yours, his hips snapping upwards and his big hands forcing you down on his cock - any pain or soreness from the fight was long forgotten.

You could tell from the look in his eyes that he was near, his clouded vision and clenched jaw were all too familiar. You held him against your chest as he buried himself deep in you one last time. You could feel his cock twitch within you, spilling his cum.

Bucky held the back of your head and caught you in a deep kiss, exchanging a million silent words.

You stared at the man standing on your porch and your heart began beating on your chest. You parked your car and exited the vehicle, that took no longer than five seconds, but it felt like hours as thoughts ran through your mind - why was Andy at your house? Why was he waiting for you?

The week that had passed was filled with awkward silences and tense conversations, so much so that the group had pretty much divided itself to prevent the weird atmosphere that had ensued - you'd sometimes hang out with one half, and then you'd hang out with the other. You felt bad for your friends, it felt like they had to take turns to spend time with everyone...

"Andy... Hi." You greeted, trying to hide the nervousness "Do you want to-"

"Do you like him? Do you have feelings for him?" He was cutthroat and went directly to the issue, to the core of the reason why he was there, as Andy didn't seem like he wanted to spend a long time in your presence.

The question was deafening, it was something you hadn't even admitted to Bucky himself, it was something you knew the answer to, but you had never voiced it out loud.

You took a deep breath and looked at Andy.

"I do." Your voice was firm and determined, as if it had been something you struggled with, when in reality coming to terms that you did have feelings for a man like that was the easiest that you ever had to do, but admitting it to his son, your friend... that was rough.

There was sorrow in his eyes as he heard the answer. Andy pressed his lips together in an understanding smile as he slowly nodded.

"Why?"

You thought you had heard wrong. Was he asking "why" you had feelings for his dad, "why" you had done it, "why" your feelings for Andy had come to a halt...

"What?"

He sighed and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"Why do you like him?"

"I mean..." You swallowed thickly and licked your lips, there was no way to word why you had come to like Bucky so much without being cheesy "He's always on the forefront when it comes to protecting me, even when I was just your friend to him, he went out of his way to get rid of a group of guys that were harassing me. He's really kind, he treats me well and although he has this rough exterior he's really sensitive and loving." You paused and look into Andy's sad eyes "He cares about you, very much, and he feels really sorry..."

"I know he does... That's why this is so hard for me. I would've expected it if he was a deadbeat who didn't give a shit about me, but he's always been there, he's always been my best-friend and now... I still love him, I don't think I will ever not love him, but it was an unexpected blow." Those words were hard for Andy, you could tell.

His voice was breaking and cracking, as if he had to physically pull them out of his throat.

"I came down here because I wanted to know... I needed to know if you and my dad were just a fling or it was an actual thing." The boy struggled with his words, and so did you, wanting everything to be as broad and un-specific as possible.

"Is it better that I like him?" You asked, unsure if that was the answer he was looking for.

Andy shrugged. The boy himself was not sure what answer he was searching for, and what outcome would be best.

"In a way it's better that you actually like him, because then you weren't just crewing up things between us for a one night stand, but in the long run it might hurt me more. I-I don't know..."

"I'm sorry, Andy..."

"Yeah, you've said that, you and him." He said, with a cynical chuckle, which struck you deeply "I'm not saying I will never forgive you, I eventually will, you were a good friend to me, but right now I can't be the bigger person and just forgive you both."

"I can wait." You said with a small, sympathetic smile.

Andy just nodded, and bid you a silent goodbye. There wasn't exactly closure, and it wasn't the conclusion you had hoped for (or expected), but it was better than nothing.

You stood on your porch, watching as he left, thinking about what had just happened, and trying to process what it all meant.

"Hey."

You snapped your head in the direction of the very familiar voice.

"Bucky, hey! Andy just left, actually." You told him, as you pointed towards the direction his son had gone in.

"I know, I got here a while ago, but it didn't seem like a conversation I should be a part of."

"So you were nearby... waiting?" You realized.

"Yes." The man responded simply.

"So did you hear..."

You hoped the answer was negative, you prayed it was negative.

"I did."

Oh. What a nightmare. You had just indirectly confessed to him, he had heard you tell his son how much you liked him. It was too soon, you hadn't been together for long, and it wasn't something you wanted him to know yet.

"Oh... It's okay if you don't feel the same, I mean it hasn't been a long time so I get it but-"

"Don't do that." Bucky interrupted your rant, with a serious tone.

You had been averting your gaze, too nervous to meet his stare, but at that sentence, you looked up into his eyes.

"Do what?" You asked.

"Act like you're somehow not enough for me to feel the same. Act like what we have isn't special, and act like I wasn't obsessed with you from the very start."

Bucky stepped forward and cupped your face with his hands.

"There's no use in denying what we feel, Y/N, and time doesn't fucking matter because a day with you feels like a second, it's never enough. So don't focus on the days we spent, let's just focus on the days we have ahead, okay? The sooner we start our journey, the more time we will have to enjoy it, together."

You were too choked up to respond, you could only wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a deep kiss.

"Fuck me like you want to make me yours forever." You whispered, looking straight into his eyes.

Bucky instantly grabbed your thighs with his hands, making you wrap his legs around his waist as he hurriedly carried you inside of the house.

For the first time, when he laid you on your bed, he took his time. He removed his clothes first, and then slowly peeled your off of every item you wore, taking in your curves like you were a piece of art at the Louvre.

He kissed the skin between your breasts and played with them softly, before trailing his lips down your body, eyes locked on yours drinking your every expression. The man kissed the inside of your thighs, taking his time before eating you out. His tongue tasted you hungrily, and, although he tried taking his time, Bucky's desperation showed - he couldn't get enough of you.

"Bucky please..." You begged, unable to wait any longer.

He listened to your pleas instantly, locking your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue, before slipping into you so easily that it felt like a puzzle coming together.

This time, he didn't let you go. He held you close and looked into your eyes as he fucked you, listening to your every command, to your every noise like it was music.

And, when the two of you came in sync, promises of staying together forever came out in unison.

"minors dni" banner credit - @cafekitsune

taglist: @bookofriverr ; @starfly-nicole ; @deafening-roar-of-angry-students ; @blackhawkfanatic

Thank you so much for the support 🩷 I haven't proofread it yet, sorry for any mistakes

#bucky #marvel #bucky barnes #bucky smut #winter soldier #bucky fanfic #bucky reader insert #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky reader smut #bucky x reader smut #winter soldier smut #marvel smut #bucky fluff #bucky angst #bucky barns x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n

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imsorrythatimweird101-blog · 9 months ago

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HOW SHIFT USING THE GATEWAY TAPES (UPDATED)

Hey, I want start off to apologize. I'm so sorry for bringing awareness to the tapes and then not clarifying on what to do or how to start. I did try to answer every question I can. I did post a guide a while back but Im still remastering it

IMPORTANT VOCAB

F10- body asleep and mind awake

F12- having your consciousness in the universe and expanded

HOW TO START:

So first off you need click on drive. Once you open the drive you will see tapes.

Before staring the tapes you NEED read a MANUAL. So if you look at your bottom left corner. You will see a PDF and it will have a picture of a old man. He's name is Bob. The creator of the tapes. I love Bob.

Once you click on the tape. You scroll down and you see titles. These titles are the titles of the tape in the folders that your going to use. At the bottom of the titles, there going be a discription. These discription tell you what the tapes do but also how they work and what you need to do during those tapes. Once your done your ready to go

STEPS

Step 1: open the drive and you will see the folders of tapes. ‼️DO NOT USE ANY OTHER AUDIO EXPECTED THE DRIVE. YOUTUBE COMPRESS THEM AND MAKE THEM NOT WORK‼️

[GATEWAY TAPES DRIVE ](https://drive.google.com/drive/u/0/mobile/folders/1vZJg5oJvfYVwWryJh05pfkZTV0cnd026)

Step 2: click the bottom far left corner. It's a Manuel and has a picture of a old guy smiling (bob)

Step 3: find the title of the tape your going to use. Read it carefully and know what's going happened and what to do

Step 4: go to discovery and play the first tape. Don't fall asleep! Be awake during the tapes!

Great! Keep doing these tapes for each tape. Each tape you must do it 3 times or more. So you can get familiar with it. BUT MOST IMPORTANT IF YOUR NOT READY TO MOVE ON OR YOU FEEL LIKE YOU NEED KEEP DOING. THAT'S OKAY, SHIFTING IS ALWAYS GOING BE HERE SO DONT RUSH

‼️PAY ATTENTION TO THIS PART‼️

Once you reach Tape 3- advanced F10. There's a trigger that YOU MUST MASTER. The whole point of discovery is to train your brain to be awake and body asleep.

Now continues the normal steps like the other but this time. You need keep doing it until your able do It without the tapes. This is very important because when your trying reach F12(the goal). You need to be in F10 first and master It already

After that, you NEED to do the other tapes like the normal steps. Because the 4 tape is to have fear go away and if you blockages. The 5 is for awareness while you sleep and 6- free flow- is to freestyle

‼️Make sure to let go any expectations of these tapes because this will hold you back! Put your expectations and your needs in the energy box!‼️

But you can go to F12 tape.

F12 tape is next to discovery. Know as Wave 2. A lot of people ask why only that tape and not the others. Well! If you do F12 tape and in beginning bobs explains that after F12 tape. Those tapes are TOOLS. Those tools involved with manefisting, remote viewing, answering questions etc (I recommend you to check it out)

So the thing you need to do is master F12 and then shift!

Tips and questions

Q: what are gateway tapes?

A: here's some recourses that explains it way more better then I ever could

[gateway tapes ](https://youtu.be/46E_FX-KxZ8?si=yV8dqgoBdcNJXclD)

[Gateway tapes CIA EXPLAINED ](https://youtu.be/HOFq3ruef7I?si=JbwpcgnZ9rrbGyyz)

Q: can I shift at F10?

A: yes you can. It's possible but it's not really meant for that. Its more of SATS approach if that's what you're looking for because F10 is mind awake and body asleep

Q: how many times do I listen to it

A: as many times you feel like. I personally listen to it 3-4 times a day but only because I'm in summer break. Whatever works in your schedule

Q: how do I know I'm in F10?

A: your body is heavy and your limbs are numb. Your body is supposed to be asleep. Many people reported that the hear themselves snore. Me personally, my breath is non-existent and my chest is numb in away. Or like barely there. Trust me you will know. Ofc this doesn't mean you can't move you body at all. You can move your body in F10 but need the WILL to move your body. It can be different from everyone

Q: I tried it couple of days, why is it working?

A: first off, you need patience. This is practice. It's like a baseball player wanting to be the best pitcher in the world but they throw the ball couple of times and then when it's not right. They run and cry in there room. You need take the tapes seriously not half ass it and be PATIENT. Don't rush things. That's the worse thing you can do because you will miss important cues and it's going be all bad.

Q: I keep falling asleep why is that

A: your brain and body is not used to it. Your brain isn't normal active. Its active but it's going through your sleep cycles. So having your brain be in vibration state of being awake and your body being sleep cycle. It's going get confused because it's not used to it. That's why the tapes train it.

Q: do I need earphones or headphones when listening to tape

A: yes, you need ones that aren't noise cancelling and make sure that you hear bob in your right ear. Only because there certain sounds that play in both your ears for your brain to sync.

Q: are these tapes actually going make me shift

A: yes, I believe it will. The only reason why I personally believe that anyone can 1000 percent shift because these gateway tapes were run by scientist and actually doctor in fields to perfect it. Not only that CIA agents use these and it's approved by the CIA. There actually evidence and research done. It isn't like some random teenagers made a method up in there room. These tapes are designed to open the human mind and Bob himself even talked to alter version of himself with these tapes.

‼️MOST IMPORTANT TAKE‼️

Now, you gotta have open mind and believe it too. You cant go in the tapes with a negative mindset and expect a beautiful outcome. This is in every method you used..not only the gateway tapes. If you believe it won't work because whatever the case then obviously it won't work because your mind is going block everything and not letting it's self In general. This is life In general.

#reality shifting #shifting blog #shifting community #shifting antis dni #law of assumption #void state #shifters

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ceilidho · 1 year ago

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prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 4. (read 1, 2, 3) tags: dubcon; nsfw

You only realize after the fact that you may have miscalculated in thinking that this could be a one-time thing between the two of you.

After listening to Johnny bitch and moan during the Christmas party about having to take time off work to spend the holidays with his very religious family, you delude yourself into thinking you’ll finally be able to have some peace and quiet around the store. Not literally, of course. Working during the holidays is always a recipe for exhaustion—parents coming in at the last minute to demand toys that have long since sold out, fights breaking out in every other aisle as customers fight for the last palatable set of Christmas ornaments and boxed fruit cake.

You’re not delusional enough to think that work will be a piece of cake, but you are selfishly a little happy that you’ll finally get some time to breathe without Johnny hovering over your shoulder at all hours of your shift. Seasonal shoppers are as exhausting as always, but you get to sit alone in the breakroom with a cup of coffee in the morning right before your shift without someone staring at you or breathing into your personal bubble.

Johnny spends his entire time off blowing up your phone, sending you pictures of his childhood home, calling you during your breaks, and sending you weird videos that seem to have been filmed entirely in the dark where you can’t see or hear anything apart from some weird squeaks and one loud grunt at the very end of the video that sounds kind of like—you close the video.

You spend the first few days of January dreading his return. The day of is like a shock to your nervous system, the whole morning spent pouring coffee with a trembling hand.

“Hiya gorgeous,” he purrs when you clock in for your shift. You’re somewhat used to Johnny sneaking up behind you, so you don’t flinch this time when you feel the length of his body press up against you at the time clock.

“Johnny, it’s seven in the morning,” you mutter out through pursed lips, shoulders stiff when he puts his hands on them and digs his thumbs into the tender points of your back. You bite back a moan.

“Missed ye, kitten. Cannae believe I went a whole week without hearing you purr.”

He could’ve phrased that a thousand other ways, but he just had to choose the one that would make you wince. He digs his thumbs in again, trying to push the moan out of you, but you tamp it down. You hold back a shudder when he plants his nose onto the crown of your head and inhales, drawing your scent into his lungs.

“Where’ye assigned ta today? Jeff owes me a favour—gonna ask him if I can spend the day with ye so we can catch up.”

You go still when he drops a firm kiss to the side of your head. “I’m…not sure. I haven’t checked the schedule yet.” It’s a half-lie. You may not have checked the schedule yet, but you know from having briefly chatted with your manager this morning in the parking lot where you’ll be spending most of your day.

Still, it means that you get to shake off Johnny for a bit. “Lemme go check for ye, okay, hen? Stay here, a’right?”

You watch him jog off down the hall to the breakroom before finally leaving. It’ll be better for you if you’re gone before he comes back.

The first hour of your day is spent on softlines until Priya in jewellery randomly comes down with a chill and gets sent home early, forcing you to cover her section. Usually that wouldn’t be such a bad deal—it means you get to spend your shift helping people try on bracelets and rings, restocking the earring display, and leaning against the counter for hours at a time. It’s not a particularly busy station.

While you're assigned to the jewellery section though, Johnny pops out of nowhere as you're helping a customer contemplating a birthday ring for his fiancé. With the kind of confidence that you’ve come to expect from Johnny, he uses your hand to model some of the rings, but this time it feels oddly weirdly intense. When he slides the first ring onto your finger, you can feel the way he holds his breath, even shudders a bit. He presses himself right up against you behind the display counter, hardness pressing against your hip.

It doesn’t take long for your customer to leave. Johnny’s demeanour is off-putting, concerning even. You can’t fault the guy for being rightfully repulsed by the way Johnny crowds up against you like you’re alone together.

“What are you doing?” you hiss through your teeth.

“Cannae help it, hen. I ken ye wanna wait, but it jus’ makes me a bit emotional seein’ my girl wearing a ring I put on.”

He blinks down at you with big, blue eyes, the picture of innocence. You should’ve anticipated there being a danger in letting Johnny stew over that on his own. Of course he’d come to his own conclusions, even one as deranged as thinking of your hook up as a step towards dating. You can’t help but side eye him.

“We—we’re not a couple, Johnny.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Ye just let anybody eat you out in the supply closet then? S’that right?” It’s said rhetorically, like he knows the answer already. You flinch at the slight though.

“That was—” you cut yourself off to take a breath, an ache growing behind your forehead, “—that was a…it was a one-time thing. You can’t just act like we’re dating.”

His lips turn down in a pout, displeasure rippling across his face. You brace yourself for the inevitable argument, for shit to hit the fan, because obviously that’s what’s brewing under the surface. You brace yourself for worse too because when you happen to glance around, you realize how few people are actually milling around in the area.

Then, instead of losing his temper, Johnny’s eyes grow smoky, heavy-lidded, and the pout lifts into a lazy, playful grin. “A’right, kitty, no’ dating then. That’s fine wi’ me.”

This time it’s you that frowns, staring up at him dubiously. “…Really?” It feels too sudden, quicksilver. Johnny’s fiery by nature, short tempered on his best days and more likely to grit his teeth and bear the displeasure of not getting his way than happily giving into it. His sudden smile is at odds with the version of him that exists in your mind, furious at you for denying him.

Maybe you’ve got him all wrong.

The gleam in his eye betrays nothing, however. “I swear.” He leans closer to you then, fingers fiddling with the name tag pinned over your chest on your work vest, straightening it. “Doesnae mean we have ta give the rest up though. Ye liked what we did in the closet, right, hen?”

It feels like he’s sucked the air out of the room, as big as it is. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that.”

“Och, c’mon, kitty,” Johnny breathes, hunching just a little over and into your space, making the moment feel private, just the two of you. “Had to talk about it eventually. Did ye just expect that everything would go back to normal after ye let me eat ye out? Hey—” he catches you when you try to make a move to step away from him, wrapping a big hand around your wrist and tugging you closer to him, “—listen, kitty—it doesnae have to be anything serious, right? That’s what’s making ye all jumpy and nervous? I’ll lick your pussy, free of charge. Dinnae need any labels. How’s that sound, kitty? Dick on demand?”

It should repulse you. The way he speaks to you is crass, crude. His voice is hushed, haggard, fur stretched taut over stone—and yet, your hands tremble, just a little. It tempts you. Purring Scottish burr, lapis lazuli eyes, bristle cheeks that you still remember scraping up your inner thighs. He’s a package you can’t imagine sending back.

“You won’t get…you promise not to get weird about it?” you ask.

His smile curls up, impish. “Cross my heart, kitten.”

Maybe you’re delusional enough to think that you can have your cake and eat it too. There’s a voice in your head telling you to face the facts, but you disregard it as if you haven’t been working with Johnny for months. As if you aren’t aware of his penchant for saying or doing anything to get his way. It’s maybe naive of you.

All you know is that he smothers a laugh when you tell him you’ll think about it. Knows he’s got you right where he wants.

You don’t fight when he drags you into the single-stall bathroom towards the end of your shift, letting him position you in front of the mirror before sinking to his knees behind you. Forces you to watch the way you come apart on his tongue, not giving you his fingers until you beg him to, the whispered plea a hairsbreadth away from becoming a scream.

“Oh, did she miss me?” Johnny breathes, a happy laugh in his voice when he runs the broad side of his tongue over your entrance from the back. “Fuck, look at that. Winked at me ‘n everythin’. Hi darling, missed ye too.”

You don’t think you’ll ever be the same after hearing that come out of his mouth. You go hot all over again when you clench involuntarily, equal parts turned on and horrified. He sniggers before trying to cram his whole tongue up into you.

There’s a moment of panic when Johnny draws up behind you after making you come and you hear him undo his pants. There’s nowhere for you to go with your pants still looped around your ankles, underwear pulled all the way down as well. You hear yourself hiss a startled Johnny when he slots a fat cock between your thighs, staring dumbly at the reflection of him behind you. At your back, he seems massive, lean and trim but towering over you, broad.

He shushes you. “Dinnae be selfish, hen—gotta get mine too. Jus’ gonna fuck your thighs, dinnae fret.”

You squeak when he pushes your thighs together forcefully, dragging his cock over your folds to wet himself. Watching Johnny fuck is nothing like staring down at him when he eats you out. He pants harsh and ragged into the side of your head, nips at your ear. The glint in his eyes goes animalistic, vacant. Human desire recedes, subsumed into the animal part of his brain with the single-minded need to fuck.

The only thing keeping him from driving up into you, accidentally or not, is the way you keep your thighs pressed together. A warm, tight channel for him to push his cock into. Thick fingers dig into your waist, sure to leave bruises. You wince when lean hips pound against your backside, growing frantic as need overtakes him. You flirt at the edge of panic, certain that at any second, he’ll pull your thighs apart and nudge the head of his cock up into you.

“Jus’ like that, fuck,” he grunts. “Be a good little fuckin’ girl and jus’ let me—”

His tongue lolls out on a particularly rough thrust, hands groping over your belly and up to your chest, slipping his hand under your shirt and bra to pinch your nipple. He twists it mean, nasty, until you have no choice but to grunt through grit teeth, eyes watering. You feel like a doll meant for his pleasure, no choice but to grip the sides of the sink and let Johnny use you until he comes.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, eyes going half-lidded. “Love makin’ this pussy come. Love gettin’ her all messy and wet. Lettin’ me between your thighs even when I make ye nervous—fuck, ‘m gonna come, ‘m gonna—fuck, fuck, fuck—”

White come stripes the sink in front of you, thick and viscous. Paints the inside of your thighs as well when he drags his hips back until just the head of his cock sits nestled up against your sex. Hyperconscious of where it tags your inner lips, that there’s no barrier between the two of you, just come and skin.

The full body shake shocks you, a ripple from your heels to the top of your head.

His free hand grasps you by the hair when you try to slip away. “Ye gonna clean up your mess, baby?”

You glance back up at his reflection in the mirror, trying to suss him out. Shark-like eyes meet yours. Something you’ve seen in glances before finally staring back at you with full force. You reach for the paper towel dispenser with a shaking hand.

“Nah,” Johnny scolds, giving you a shake. “With your mouth.”

The command hangs in the air, no joke or laugh to undercut it. His eyes read serious to you, still dark. No leniency present in the blue.

You stare down at his come on the sink, slack-jawed. “You don’t seriously mean—”

“Jus’ kidding, silly,” he chuckles, giving a teasing bite to your earlobe and tugging. The tension in the air disperses. “Got ye, huh?”

You force a laugh. “Yeah…got me.”

#i cant believe this shit is at 10k and i still have another part to write #ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap x you #soap/reader #ikea soap

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blubunz · 7 days ago

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i just finished reading 'deep inside' and holy shitt?? it's simultaneously a breath of fresh air and something that just knocks the wind out of my lungs coz: (1) there's rarely ever sub!Leon where it's not RE2 or 4 and (2) i love a good sub!Leon fic where he's crying, desperate to cum, overstimulated, or all of the above and it ticked all those boxes Σ(゜゜) is it alright if i'll request an sub!older Leon fic again and this time it's kinda inspired by Bed Chem by Sabrina Carpenter? just a good 'ol sub fic with plenty of Leon crying, cumming, um... hair pulling too i suppose (✿☉｡☉) dw if you're not down for it, it's totally cool with me! i just have to get this out hihi >//<

-🩰 <3

holy shit thank you😭❓️❓️ I actually love sub old Leon sm but didn't expect this much love either I'm actually genuinely surprised😧 tysm I appreciate the compliment a lot !! Kicking my legs rn

Also I've never listened to Bed Chem before this ask hwat,, I'm sorry if it's not like in the lyrics but like yeah😞

《MINORS DNI!》

Tags: sub!old! leon x f! reader, leon takes over later but hes not,, dominant so i think it qualifies of him being a sub still, pet names, panties sniffing, hair pulling, edging, overstimulation, pussy so good he's going insane, worshipping (?),leon feels guilty,, so he's apologizing a lot, crying, whimpering, bending over, oral (m! receiving), porn no plot.

“Jesus, fuck—slow down, sweetheart.” Leon pants, looking down at you kneeling in front of him, impatiently unbuckling his belt.

“Thought you wanted this.” Taking his cock in your palm, you kisses the tip with your soft lips, lipstick smeared from the earlier make out session you had with him.

“Yeah, I do, but— fuuuuuuck!” He groans, head falling back and his feet digging into the mattress when you only take the tip in between your lips. You hum in content, teasing his cock with kitten licks, tongue sliding between the slit leaking pre-cum.

“Ohmyfuckinggod!” His jaw hangs open, tears already brimming in the corner of his eyes as they wrinkle up. His hips buck, shaking with anticipation.

“Oh, slow down, Leon.” You giggle, mocking him from his earlier statement, in which Leon whines in return, itching his cock closer to your mouth.

You finally oblige, however, sinking his cock down your throat and that makes his mind break, pushing his hips up in a quick but clumsy pace. He can't help it, your mouth is hot and wet, just like your pussy. Honestly though? You can rub his cock with your heel and he'd be happy to paint it white as well.

You delicately push your hair back a little, the casual act makes him feel like you're not feeling as excited as him and oh god that makes him feel so weak, knowing how worked up he is and how casual you are, despite your own cunt throbs with juices staining your panties already.

He groans when you push yourself up again, your own lips leaving his weeping tip with a lingering kiss. He can't take it anymore, he's desperate for release and damn it all to hell, he wants to disobey you. Well, you are somewhat younger, you should've been the one getting tied up and begging for him, but he respects you too much for that, too lovesick to even comprehend the thought of seeing you giving up your own pleasure to satisfy him.

But, today he seems eager to just ravage you whole. Leon groans, grabbing your wrist tightly to pull you close and picks you up.

Of course you let out a surprised gasp, instantly frowning at how he's changing the rules.

“S-Sorry baby...I swear I'll make it up to you.” Leon instantly coos, bending you over the bed and pulling your panties down in one swift motion.

He savors your heated arousal that has stained on the fabric, a deep sniff and he's rubbing it all over his face, down to his cock, fisting himself a few times before lining up against your entrance.

“Leon—!” You were about to protest, displeased, obviously, your mind is already thinking of ways to make him cry even more, but all thoughts melt and turn to puddle once that red tip eases inside your core with a loud, enticing squelch.

You shut up instantly, biting down your lip as Leon hugs you against his chest and instantly ruts into you like a rabbit, he's crying out curses and moaning so loud, already setting you to a rough pounding.

“Ngh—! Fuck! Fuck! Oh god, baby I'm so sorry—” He's crying, babbling out apologies as his hips attach to yours. “P-Pussy so good, ohmygod holy fuck! My baby, sweetheart, oh god piccolo I'm sorry I'm sorry!”

You would respond to him, telling him it's okay, that you enjoy this too and that you don't mind, but he's pounding you so good, fucking the words out of you.

Leon has to pull away from you for a moment to breathe properly, your scent overflowing his nostrils, he's dazed with lust and love for you, everything about you just makes him ache for love.

“God, yes!” His head tilts back, his fingers snaking up to your hair, pulling on it to pull your back flushed against Jim. He's breathing heavily in your ear, cock twitching inside your sweet cavern as he keeps apologizing.

“Mngh, I'm such a bad puppy, aren't I?” Leon whines, his face flushed and he's frowning from feeling bad about disobeying you. He looks like a sad old dog, you have to admit, but you can't deny he appeals to you in ways no one can. His wrinkles are there, creasing his forehead, by the eyes, near his lips, but that just makes him look hotter, acting like a young pup despite being so old.

One hand in your hair, the other one grabs one of your bouncing tits. His blurry, teary eyes can see how soft they are when he thrusts up into your pussy, how your nipple reacts to his fingers just pinching and pulling.

“Ngh, sorry baby...” He pants loudly against your ear, kissing your cheek in hopes to make you less uncomfortable. “Wanna-Wanna cum, I wanna cum inside you.” He begs. “Please, sweetheart, oh god please let me cum inside you please please, pretty please—"

You haven't spoke in so long, and your juices spilling out as you cum without warning, squeezing his cock in a suffocating way that he enjoys.

“Oh fuck yes! Squeeze my cock, please baby. Make me cum!"

Leon gasps, eyes roll up as he shoots himself inside your awaiting womb, filling you up quick. He doesn't stop though, no, he keeps going, giving you slow thrusts before slamming your face down the mattress.

More apologies spilling out with false promises, words like “Sorry sweetie, just one more, please?” are enough to let you know he's going all the way.

Leon's body shakes from overstimulation, his body isn't like before, he can't go for long, but something about you today just makes him rock hard again, already going at a fervent speed.

He's tugging your hair harder, he's crying so much that his tears are dripping and rolling down your back. Your own pussy tightens at how he's penetrating you already right after the first load.

Leon whines, smashing your lips together just so he can taste your sticky saliva, to have more of your lipstick on him, to suck on your tongue like a candy cane. While he's pounding you to oblivion, hand keeps on tugging your hair so he can trail from your lips down to your neck, leaving bite marks and hickies that you for sure are gonna be embarrassed later.

“Oh god, my angel...so cute, god you're ruining me!” He sniffles, weeping while his arms flexed to hug you closer, the better he's pounding you though, cock sliding in and out with sticky substances staining his abdomen, with a white ring coated around his base.

“Can't resist you, mngh, never...nev—mngh, ah- oh-oh- fuck fu—ck!”

His movements are getting more clumsy, legs shaking and his hips snapping forward. By now he can't even talk, every attempt at forming a coherent sentence just falls away like his tears. You can even hear his voice so shaky, so trembly you think he might pass out soon. Surely your pussy can't make him feel this good, right? Surely he won't just pass out just because of how you're squeezing him just how he likes it, right?

Only time can tell.

#— bun azk #— 🩰 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #my first emoji anon ever omg?#yay !!#sorry for not posting guys I don't have much free time;; most times im so drained i ran out of energy too so i apologize T°T #— barbwire writes

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angelplummie · 9 months ago

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TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS! 3

ART X TASHI X PATRICK X F!READER

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

no smut in this one, but homoeroticism and swearing. enjoy yall!

“why are we here?”

“i told you why,” tashi took off her many bracelets into a hotel-issued jewellery box. the room was a dusky cream all over, and smelt of sandal wood. the various lamps cast sloping shells of yellowlight.

art watched, naked and tangled within the duvet.

“you told me we were seeing a physiotherapist. now we’ve come all the way here and he just cancels?”

“i can’t control these things art. he’s very popular, something just came up. think of this as a holiday. we’ll do something relaxing, fun, tomorrow. you crushed in atlanta, you deserve a rest.”

“i didn’t crush. i came second.”

tashi duncan just breathed deeply, not a sigh but something like it. an acknowledgement.

“i know. you work too hard.”

art sniffed and rested his head on the heel of his palm.

“can you just tell me why we’re here? please?”

wrists lighter, she sighed. wrapped in a silk negligé, she began removing her necklace, away from him so that they would not make eye contact but he could still watch her face. she had a defeated look. caught. but still scolding like a mothers, like she was slightly irritated he even asked.

“she’s competing in the open this year. she might win.”

“who is she?”

he asked, but he knew. you were the she. you were her, hissed in arguments, brushed under rugs. their point of contention. they didn’t speak of you, couldn’t. not after the way they got together, not after that final match and the injury.

a certain wildness came across her face whenever you came up, even peripherally, in conversation. like he had reopened a wound, pressed on a bruise that was ripening. she wore that look now, the injured bear look.

“her. if she wins this she’ll have won every major tennis competition in the us. in under 5 years. then what? fucking wimbledon? no. not on my fucking watch.”

she took off her necklace, which clattered against the vanity. she then began on her rings.

“how do you know she’ll win it?”

“i don’t know she’ll win it. but it’s really looking like she will. and she can’t.”

“why can’t she win it?” art soothed, “what would be so bad about that?”

“she can’t win it art.”

he sighed, and watched his wife as she took off their wedding band to sleep. he kept his on, but each to their own. her mouth quivered, and he knew that that was enough of questions for now. she would only get herself worked up if she thought about it more.

“we’ll talk about it in the morning, ok? come here.”

she pressed her long fingers to her temples for a moment, sighed again, and began walking to the bed.

for a moment she perched on the edge, but his pawing hand beckoned her closer. soon enough they were entangled at the legs, and he held her soft head to his chest.

she drew in a nasal breath.

“we have to stop her. make her lose.”

we. so he was a part of this now. did he think that was appropriate? no. he had left you for her, had harboured secret feelings for her your whole relationship. what he felt for you was real, but tashi was his wife. was always going to be his wife. but now, how could he, in good conscience, try and detract a modicum of happiness from you when he had taken so much in years prior? he couldn’t. he couldn’t even think about you. the thought of you being happy away from him made him so soul crushingly, unreasonably sad that he locked it away in a place no one would ever see or graze by mistake. the thought of you sad made him feel even worse. in truth, he avoided you like the plague. he followed your matches religiously to know where not to be. consumed trashy tabloids so he knew where you brunched, where you bought your sports bras, all so he could know never to be there. because he had that life he always wanted. that life he tossed two of the most important people to him away for. he had to be contented with what he had, or else he would die. and he was more than contented. he was everything he wanted. he had a wife he loved, a sky rocketing career, a future. a purpose. but there were aches of the heart, sympathies a man couldn’t shake, even if he had to.

“we have to?”

her grip around his torso tightened, and she raised her head to look at him.

“we have to.”

“what could we even do?”

“fuck with her head. get in there and throw her off. and if worse comes to worse break her knee like she broke mine.”

“don’t joke.”

“i’m not kidding art. she’s not winning. and you’re helping me.”

“tashi-“

“you’re helping me aren’t you?”

and she fixed him with the look. the look she gave when she wanted you to remember that her acl tore and that she will be able to do the thing she loved most in the world, and somehow it’s all your fault. only you can fix it. only you can take the defiance from her eyes and the downturn of her lips, and you can only do that if you go as she says. art had no choice, no choice at all.

“what do you need?”

•••

in, coincidently, the same hotel a few floors up, you shaved your pubic hair. your coach advised you against shaving close to the tournament. he recommended it for your legs, it meant you were more aerodynamic, but pubic hair made no difference. between razor burn and chaffing, it was an unnecessary distraction. but, he also didn’t sanction sweaty, time consuming, exhausting sex with a trifling man slut of an ex boyfriend that dumped you once and was ready to dump you again, so today was the day for rule breaking.

he chewed you out pretty nice when you got back to your hotel room. you insisted on showering even though your physio stayed late specifically for you, and now instead of hurrying out and apologising and being stretched into a peppy, sexy, marketable, rubber-band-legged tennis cunt, you were shaving yourself. because winning didn’t matter unless you were ready for her.

why did being shaven mean being ready? you didn’t know. but patrick’s joy at your bush had sickened you in grim retrospect, and you wanted to spite him. you would always be ready from now on. if tashi duncan was going to try and fuck you over, the least you could do was prepare to be fucked.

you were dry as can be. you hosed yourself down pretty ruthlessly to clear yourself out. evict any traces of that man from your body, scrub until you reached a layer of skin he hadn’t touched. you had one tired foot on the edge of the sink, and angled yourself so you could see everything. you would be so smooth that you could see a reflection when you were finished.

patrick had caught you off guard, had used you, but you didn’t doubt that he told you the truth about one thing. tashi was coming. she was probably already here. that would be an evil thing to makeup, and despite your outburst you didn’t truly believe he was evil. you thought he was weak, slimy and pathetic, but he wasn’t great enough to be evil. didn’t have the forethought.

what would you do when you saw her? it was early days in the tournament, you could afford to be a little distracted while you picked off the weaker ones. but you couldn’t still be this distracted in 2 days time. maybe time would take care of it. maybe you would have to take it into your own hands.

regardless of what happened, the hair had to go. you had shown patrick a soft underbelly, a vulnerability. one that neither tashi duncan or art donaldson would ever experience again. you could never give her the satisfaction.

if she brought art with her, that would give you something to think about. he, like patrick, was a stolen thing. he was the physical manifestation of all she took from you, in it’s fullest form. he was tennis. he was something you had never beaten. tashi duncan pilfered and pillaged, but worse of all she never lost to you. you never looked her in her eyes and beat her, at anything. love, sex, the game, she had never lost. worse, she had lost her ability to lose. a fate worse than death, but a fate that saved her from the shame she so rightfully deserved. while you lived on, you could defile yourself further, could fall out of grace and could become as common as dirt. she however was immortalised as a god, an angel too good, too talented for this world. she was given implicit dignity. you can’t beat her if she can’t play. the conniving bitch.

semenless, hairless and distantly heartbroken, you set the razor down on the side of the bathtub. you left to dress and be scolded by your coach, who would forgive you tommorow when you won, just like you always did. you won by default.

•••

your manager had forgiven you as soon as you picked up the racket. apparently emotional turbulence served only to help your game, as you achieved your second win of the tournament in record time. not distracted by a certain ex boyfriend at the end of this particular match, when you won you felt fully able to celebrate. sweat drenched and vagina raw you shook your fist at your chest and breathed deep, victorious sighs. your opponent smiled graciously, and disappeared to cry and fade into obscurity, as all would in the face of your brilliance.

the air smelt new. it smelt fresh and new and made for your design. the felt of the tennis balls glowed neon in your periphery and bounced gleefully with your triumph. you guzzled gatorade, answered interviewers questions with emphatically friendly responses, and certainly spawned some rumours that the performance enhancing drugs you were so clearly on had unprecedented side effects, like mood swings.

yesterday your soul was crushed. today you got a new one. let’s see tashi duncan try to fuck that up. let’s see her bring you down.

boys didn’t fucking matter, tennis mattered. and you were great at tennis.

these were all things you believed in earnest, with no trace of sarcasm or cynicism. you believed, right until the second, while walking back to your hotel with your team in front of you, lazily enjoying the world, when a deep, slender, ring laden hand touched your shoulder. you jolted up out of your skin. your head whipped round and there she was. there was satan, smiling like your number was up. stopped in your tracks, you turned your body slowly to face her. as you did more and more of her appeared, and you realised she was really there.

she was so beautiful. such a perfectly set face, everything seemed to match. the attractive broad nose, the full pillowy lips, the eyes, which smouldered on their own, naturally. hair that fell in long stretched curls just as it had all those years ago. she hadn’t changed, at least not visually.

you gave her a once over. that fucking body. god, you wouldn’t know she had stopped playing, you wouldn’t know she could be unable to do anything at all. she was so slender, but so strong, muscle caking her bones in delicate, powerful form. she looked invincible, perfect and impermeable. her loose linen shirt hugged and hung from her frame like a fashion doll, like a mannequin of steel. she was taller than you, by a few inches, and made you feel small, in a way so much more infuriating than patrick. she wasn’t suppose to be bigger than you. she wasn’t a lumbering brute, she was your equal. she was your equal.

from the corner of your eye, you noticed something sparkle on her finger, but you had already looked back to her face.

“tashi,” you said, in a tinny voice that didn’t sound like yours. your throat dried within moments.

“hello stranger,” she said, still grinning.

stranger. funny, that’s exactly what you were. she said it like an inside joke, like you two were the closest of friends. you were strangers.

“hello.”

“congrats on your win.”

“thanks.”

you sniffed, and wet your lips. you weren’t going to break eye contact, she certainly wasn’t going to, so you were locked in silent warfare. what the fuck do you want? you urged every second. wait and see, she replied.

“so,” you say, forming the intentions of a smile on your lips,”what brings you to new york? i hear only a few days ago art was in atlanta.”

“we came up to see a physio guy, he’s supposed to be great. great enough that he cancels last minute.”

“hm. ain’t that just the way!”

you smile, with your eyes too, like you mean it. she smiles too, but she’s awful at being fake. she grimaced more than she smiled, she was always devoid of delicacy, of subtly. everything she was she was overtly. overtly beautiful, overtly talented, and confident. overtly ruthless. why she felt the need to smile if that’s not how she felt was beyond you, but you could play along.

“what hotel are you staying at?”

“the boro. you?”

“us too! why don’t you have a drink with me and art at the bar? it would be good to catch up.”

me and art. you narrow your eyes, deepening your smile to disguise it. she was being so normal, it was strange. what game was she playing? was it something you could win? either way you were in.

“sure! i need to check in with my coach and what not first but ill meet you there at 7, is that ok?”

“7 is great. can’t wait,” her voice was mechanical, it couldn’t be more blatant this was a ploy, and you would fall for it hook line and sinker. she came here to fuck you up? you would destroy her, the second she gave an inch. you already had a massive secret. she fucked patrick. five seconds around art and her life crumbles around her.

you smirked, nodding, and a dark look befell her eyes.

“oh, and just to let you know,” she said, voice lowering. she stepped closer, leaned down to whisper in your ear. the smell of vanilla over powered you, and suddenly you felt very gross, putrid in comparison. but you didn’t have to compare yourself to her anymore.

“i saw patrick zweig in the crowd today. i know you guys had a thing back in college. thought i’d give you a heads up,” her soft whisper tickled your ear. you shivered.

“oh, god,” you said,”thanks for telling me. what the fuck is he doing here?”

“I have no idea.”

“what a freak.”

there were several options of why she told you that, and how she might know.

maybe she really did see him in the crowd. you hadn’t seen him, but you hadn’t seen her either. maybe she didn’t see him, but knew he was coming into town, maybe he told her. maybe she got him to come here and warn you. why? to cut you out of the competition early maybe, start the psychological warfare before her feet even touched new york concrete. it hadn’t worked, and that’s why she had been forced to make a face to face appearance. maybe that was it. maybe it was a grand conspiracy in which all parties were mechanised to get you. you would not be got. no way no how.

your paranoia brought the conversation to a screeching halt as your smile became more and more vacant.

“you look good,” she said after a stretch of silence.

“thank you. so do you. you haven’t changed at all.”

“neither have you.”

“well, i think i’ve changed a bit.”

“nah, you’re the same.”

no. you’re different. but how would she know anyway? you wave goodbye as she saunters off, away to a blonde man that she kisses lightly on the cheek. you don’t take in anything more than that because you turn around immediately, and stalk to where your coach is smoking a cigarette by a coffee truck. fuck that bitch. you were going to gut her alive and use her intestines as a skipping rope. art would not extend his neck to receive a kiss when you were through with them. fucking drink at a fucking bar. who did she think she was?

fuck that bitch, tashi thought. you were right, you had changed. your backhand was perfect. impeccable serve. you were deadly. you were harder now too. you didn’t scowl but there was a coldness about the eyes, a disconnect from face and mind. you were fake as plastic, and just as shiny. you had beefed up, gotten more tight and muscular. maybe tight was the word. tight about the eyes. what were you? you were another creature all together. a beast, an amalgamation of all tashi’s hopes and dreams and all her worst nightmares.

she swayed over to art, knowing you would watch at least for a moment as they smiled at each other and took each other’s forearms tenderly, and she kissed the side of his mouth. his hair had been cut only a few days ago, and she told him to wear that white cotton t-shirt out and about. he said it was too casual for such a high level tennis match, she said she knew that. he looked very fucking good. she looked very fucking good, as she always did. she had set the trap, now it was time to get you in it, trapped, and to bash your head in with a rock.

she and art watched from the corner of their eyes as they kissed and you sauntered away, refusing to look back. your skirt swished with the aggravated sway of your hips. you swung a metal water bottle with the rhythm of your steps, like you were trying to hurt the air. you were pissed off. art could tell, and his stomach churned. this was wrong. it was mean, and they were adults now. married adults, who should be satisfied enough in their lives that they don’t need to plan or scheme. but. here they were. and there he was, embroiled and accomplice to a mean spirited scheme. anything to dry tashis eyes. anything to make up for the fact you were tennis cunt extraordinaire and she was arts coach. a fantastic coach, but a coach all the same. he could hurt you if that’s what tashi needed. he didn’t want to, but he could.

she didn’t know if she could, if it was possible rather, but she wanted to. no, she knew she could. she would. you could flick the skirt adidas paid you to wear and walk with a sexy sway and you could guzzle complementary gatorade but she knew what you were and that you were bellow her. you were her subordinate and if she couldn’t make the world see it she would make it clear to you.

your feet hit tarmac harder than they needed to as you found your coach, who clapped a hand to your back and sung your well deserved praises. breaking news, tennis cunt is good at tennis. alert the media, alert the national guard, alert nasa. this is earth shattering stuff. fuck everyone, but fuck tashi in particular. fuck that bitch. and fuck art. fuck him. fuck him.

and yet, only a few hours later you were pulling your hair out trying to put together a cohesive outfit that said i’m not trying to impress you but i’m very impressive. i’m very accomplished and polished and if i was you and i had thrown me away i would kill myself for the shame and regret. tashi duncan is nothing.

but it was hard to find an outfit so articulate. not too dressy, but not overly casual as to downplay yourself, to suggest you think dressing nicely is above what you deserve. a dress. a black dress said sex but it was also classic, simple. a black dress meant nothing, and therefore meant everything. your body itself provided the glamour, your form a kind of jewellery. yeah. that was it. eat your heart out, donaldson.

you sit at the bar, perched with your smooth legs crossed over each other. you sipped a coke, that might’ve been a rum and coke on a different night, but you needed to keep your wits about you. you remember getting drunk one night with art, swaying around his house. his parents were away and he invited you back over spring break. his house was so big. you remember kissing him, so wasted. he wasn’t as drunk as you. he held your waist, and smiled and said,”let’s get you into bed.”

“but art. you’re so pretty.”

“and you’re so drunk. i’ll still be pretty tomorrow.”

art didn’t do drunk. i don’t know. something to keep in mind.

they walked in, looked around and smiled when they saw you. neither of them had changed despite having hours. fucking cunts.

“i see you didn’t wait for us,” tashi smiles.

“oh, sorry.”

they sit, tashi next to you, art in tow. what was arts role in all this? you knew why you wanted him here, to destroy his marriage of course. but why did tashi want him here? what purpose did he serve for her? he just sort of looked around. you watch him as they settle. art. oh art. you felt something in your chest, and hated it. art. he was just that guy, you know. the guy that you can say you hate, but you just can’t. you want to so badly, but being in his presence for even a few seconds has you crumbling. the shape of his nose, the bob of his adam’s apple, the golden dusting of hair on his arm that glints in the boozy light of the bar. he was so… guy. so man. so beautiful. he beats his blonde eyelashes and turns to look at you, smiling with only one corner of his mouth. you smile back, unconsciously genuine. fuck him. what a prick.

you look back to tashi, who watches you bemusedly. half smirking half frowning. her deep eyes glow like ambers. she tossed a strand of hair from her face, orders her and art two sparkling waters as she eyed your coke.

“so,” you say, to divert your train of thoughts more than anything,”how’s life been?”

“let’s drop the pleasantries shall we?”

the smile that had spooked you all day dropped, lips instead set in a line

“we aren’t actually here to catch up.”

“oh. ok.”

that was brief. you understood why she was so quick to give up the falsehoods though, tashi duncan didn’t deal in lies. she dealt in hard cold truth.

“i’m here for one thing. i want you to play art.”

you frown with one eyebrow, and your upper lip curls into a look of disgust.

“what?”

you glance at art, who doesn’t look surprised in the slightest. he looks mournful almost. what a freak. tashi’s face is sullen, serious as the plague.

“you heard me. i want you and art to play each other. art wants to too.”

art didn’t look at you. nodded though.

“and i wanna do it tonight.”

you spluttered a laugh, hands gripping the bar.

“tonight?”

this bitch had lost her mind. you have a tournament, an important one at that, and for her to assert that you should jeopardise that, overexert yourself for the sake of what? assuaging a personal grudge? making her feel better because a significantly larger man beat a woman at a game that tashi hadn’t played in five entire years? what crack was she smoking that made that an acceptable ask? did her arrogance know no bounds?

“i have a match tomorrow.”

“yeah, no fucking shit. that’s why there’s stakes.”

stakes. what the fuck. you almost wanted to laugh. but this bitch was giving you a proposal, a fucking pitch. for what? what could she possibly have to offer you other than sucking on a shot gun and pissing off forever?

“do you have any fucking idea how ridiculous this is? after everything you did to me, you think you have any right to saunter up to me and ask me to waste my time and my energy, the night before a fucking match? you and your fucking husband can fuck off.”

“after everything i did to you? what the hell did i do to you? you broke my fucking knee.”

your confused look fell into seething blankness.

“you didn’t break your knee you tore your ACL. and you broke it yourself.”

“that’s fine, that’s fine. you tell yourself that, but know the only reason you have this fucking career is because i wasn’t there to beat you down and put you in your place.”

“jesus fucking christ, i would’ve beaten you that match and you know it.”

“i don’t know a goddamn thing-“

“and where do you get off pretending like you never did shit to me? you took everything from me tashi. you took everything and now you travel across the country and stumble up to me to make yourself feel better because i can play and you can’t. you want me to try and beat a fucking man? fine. i’m game. i’m in, let’s do it. i would hate to waste your precious time. let’s hear the fucking stakes.”

the gloves were off. both of your backs had straightened like hackles on a cat and your nostrils flared and your chests rose and fell and neither of you broke eye contact for even one second. you hadn’t realised but you had gotten closer, so close that your minty fresh breath fanned tashi’s upper lip, and pieces of tashi’s hair tickled your cheekbone. this was fucking intoxicating. being this close to the woman you had hated for so long, getting the confirmation that she hates you just as passionately, knowing you matter enough to her that she needs to destroy you, it all fills you with the most exhilarating feeling. you want more. her deep eyes glowed with fury. fuck.

art sits hunched over the bar, removed. he drank his drink, slowly facing away. he almost looks bored, or he would if his eyes didn’t flit about all the time. no, art was anxious. he disapproved of whatever tashi planned, but he loved her too much to tell her no. the thought stings you, spitting in the face of your satisfaction. art. he would always make you hurt no matter what.

“here’s the stakes. you lose, i leave knowing that i was always better than you, and you give me $4000, for my troubles. you win, you get to fuck art in front of me.”

he didn’t flinch. he knew. you’re pulled back by an otherworldly force, stone cold sober. your neck twists back and forth, scanning the bar for anyone to help you, save you, give you a moment to chew on whatever that was. no one was gonna help you. even art, who sat and drank his sparkling water, wouldn’t meet your eye.

“what?”

she didn’t reply, just leant back, arms crossed, satisfied. was she honestly, seriously, really, actually whoring out her husband so that you, a girl she barely knew from college, would play him at tennis so she could prove a point? was she that confident he would beat you? or was she a pervert as well as a cunt?

“are you that confident you’ll win? or do you think i’m that desperate? believe it or not, i’ve actually moved on from a man i saw briefly 5 entire years ago.”

a tiny white lie never hurt anyone.

tashi widened her eyes. a silent challenge.

“are you sure? are you sure it wouldn’t feel good to fuck my husband right in front of me? take something from me? hurt me? give me a taste of my own fucking medicine? if i’m such a bitch, if i took everything from you, take something back. beat me at tennis and fuck my husband.”

this bitch was fucking crazy. and yes, it would feel fucking incredible. but you would also have to touch art again. which would dredge up emotions you didn’t know if you could stomach. eugh. no. couldn’t. wouldn’t. won’t.

“i’ll play you. no stakes.”

“no,” art looked at you in the eyes for the first time since that day, that match that ended you two forever. his voice was cold and hoarse. your eyebrow raises involuntarily. look everyone, the puppet can speak on its own!

“agree to the stakes or don’t bother.”

you laugh airily, you search arts face for reprehension. there’s just nothing. you were wrong about him, he didn’t disapprove that strongly. where did he get off in this? did he like being used as a bargaining chip in his evil wife’s evil schemes? was he completely eroded from who he used to be? did you ever even know him? he tongued the inside of his cheek. his mouth curved at the edge. he smiled slightly like he knew you, like this was a game you were all in on. like any of this is funny.

“no. i’ll play you, and i’ll even cough up the money if i lost. but i’m not fucking anyone. end of story.”

tashi leans forward. her eyes twinkle yellow in the soft glow of the bar. her mouth opens with unspoken hunger.

“then lose.”

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