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bestiesenpai · 5 months ago

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sukuna bridgerton au

If you get mad at me for this then you’re no fun, he’s a little ooc in this but im world building! I intend to write more! Mini blurbs/fics and build a whole universe! Gosh! Tried to be accurate to regency era stuff but also took liberty with some things 6k words

part two — part three -- part four

Femme reader, you’re a proper young miss aint ya kekw

You are perfect. The Queen's diamond of the season and someone everyone knew by name. There is nothing you have not been prepared for, no social setting that you are unable to make your own. Since you were born your parents had instilled every rule in society onto you, every skill a young lady should have and even some men have as well, to cover every possible avenue.

Perfect indeed, with not only needlework and the pianoforte, but you spoke more than one language and were delightfully decent at drawing. Learning the harp and more advanced bookkeeping skills were on your current roster, the governess keeping not only you but your siblings busy before the beginning of all the balls and suitors calling for your attention.

“(Y/N), there are a great deal of callers outside waiting for your attention.” Your mother debriefed you at the start of the day, after having the maids dress you to her exact specifications. “You remember what I taught you, yes?”

“Yes. Be courteous and make sure to smile, but not too much or they might get the wrong idea. I shouldn’t appear to know too much about one subject, lest they get discouraged from speaking.”

“Perfect.” Snapping her fingers happily, your mother put a hand on your shoulder and sighed, smoothing down the sleeve of your dress. “I am so proud of the person you’ve become, (Y/N). I hope you know that.”

“I do, mother.” Hugging her tightly, you steeled your nerves. She had done the best possible for you your whole life to ensure you would be ready for the society you live in and to hopefully elevate your station in life, one that could afford you even more comfort than you had now.

“Bring the first one in.” Your father announced, ushering the two of you to come to a stand as the doors were opened and the first gentleman of the day came in, a modest but endearing bouquet of flowers in his hands. Making sure to curtsy immediately, you welcomed him in and brought him to the sofas where a proper conversation could be had.

And that went on for ages, one after the other, until you feared your voice would go hoarse from all the talking and fake laughter you had to do. It wasn’t that the men that came to see you were bad in any way, just that you hoped for a bit more excitement upon entering the season. There had yet to be anyone that swept you off your feet, made you wish they stayed just a bit longer and looked at you a bit more.

“Mother, may we stop for today?” You were unable to hold your posture anymore and your back bent considerably, allowing you to relax and look out the window at the sun slowly fading from afternoon to early evening.

��We may. Send the rest away, let them schedule for another time.” Motioning to a footman, your mother conceded to your wishes. “It’s about time for dinner, is it not?”

“Mr. Downey, that old man called upon you?” The next day, a chorus of giggles could be heard in the park from you and your friends. You were recounting all the visitors you had, not sparing a single detail.

“Yes!” You laughed, unable to contain yourself as you strode arm in arm with them around the park lake. “But Father wouldn’t let him step a single toe into the parlor, told him to go down to the alleys he’s usually found in!”

“Oh dear!” Another round of shouts and laughs left the group, boisterous as ever as you all were excited for the upcoming ball at the end of the week being held by the Queen herself. Her royal advisor had seen to it that you were personally handed an invitation at the modiste this morning, letting everyone see the fanfare and the adoration the Queen so had for you.

“(Y/N), you really are Her Majesty’s favorite diamond!” Someone exclaimed, squeezing your hand tightly. “I can’t remember the last time she did something like this!”

“I wonder what it could all mean.” Another girl wonders aloud, making you all come to a stop and think. “I bet there’s some aristocrat in town she wants to impress!”

“Could you imagine!” You jump up slightly, your mind beginning to race. “And me as Her Majesty’s precious diamond at the center…” A flurry of giggles left the group and you began to walk again, chattering excitedly about the future.

The time for the ball came and you were dressed in the finest silks and jewels the modiste had to offer, and a dainty necklace laid on your neck adorned with small diamonds of its own. Butterflies arose in your stomach on the carriage ride over and by the time you arrived you worried about fainting upon standing.

“Stay close.” Your mother tells you, keeping your arm in the crook of hers as you enter the party behind your father, your other siblings behind you as well. Entering the main ballroom, you try not to openly gawk at the grandiosity of it all; there was a large orchestra in the middle of the room, peacocks milling about the garden just outside the open doors and too many servants to count carrying hors d'oeuvres that looked absolutely divine.

“A drink, miss?” One of them approached with a tray of cocktails which you swiftly accepted, eager to fit in with the other patrons. Taking a sip, you were nearly knocked back from the strong bite of alcohol and almost let your composure slip.

“(Y/N).” Your mother squeezed you in warning, never letting the smile slip from her face as her tone conveyed high stress. “Do not mess this up.” And those were her final words to you before you were ushered further into the room.

Quickly righting yourself, you followed your mothers steps in introducing you to everyone and making sure to show you off to eligible bachelors and their families of high titles. Your heart pounded upon meeting earls and marquess’, forcing yourself to not appear too awestruck of a title; appearing perfectly pleased at the information and not showing favor one way or another.

“Time to greet Her Majesty.” Your mother whispered, subtly gesturing to the entourage entering the room and causing quite a stir amongst your fellow partygoers. As she took her seat, you couldn’t help but notice the two empty chairs seated behind the queen and how she looked miffed that one was not being filled upon her arrival.

Milling about so as not to appear too eager, roughly five minutes passed before you made your way over to the queen. The drink you’d been nursing was finally empty and you could feel the burning effects of the alcohol take place, making your face burn and palms sweaty beneath your gloves.

“Your Majesty.” Speaking for the both of you, your mother led you into a curtsy. Standing straight, you let your eyes wander to the chairs, wondering who could be missing from such an event.

“My diamond.” Her Majesty reached out her hand which you instantly took, softly kissing the skin and giving another curtsy.

“Your Majesty.” You responded in kind, giving her a somewhat nervous smile. “This is a beautiful party.” Looking around, you finally let your true feelings show for a moment as you properly soaked it all in. “I am amazed at how you manage to throw such exquisite soirees each season.”

“Oh how you flatter me!” A light chuckle left Her Majesty’s lips and she allowed you to look around a bit more before speaking again. “Tell me, have any suitors caught your eye?”

“Well…” Looking back at your mother, you let out a breathless chuckle. “None have truly captured me, Your Majesty. Some interest me and others vex me, but no one has yet to steal my heart.”

“That is very pleasing.” She grinned, knowing something you did not. “Very pleasing indeed.” Waving over one of her attendants, she whispered something into their ear and off they went as if they had never been there at all. “Take to the floor, my dear, I shall call upon you soon again.”

“Yes, thank you, Your Majesty.” Curtsying again, you and your mother left to go enjoy the party. It wasn’t clear what the Queen had in mind but every time you looked over your shoulder you found her eyes on you and that made you nervous enough to get another drink and not care about the taste.

“Mother, I must use the restroom.” Hardly finished with the glass, you felt an upset in your stomach that couldn’t be ignored. Waiting just enough time for her to excuse you from the group you’d been speaking with, you rushed out of the room and down the hall, thankfully guided by servants to the nearest restroom.

Relieving yourself rather quickly, you were in no hurry to return to the party. This was the first time you were in the palace and your curiosity couldn’t help but get the better of you. Looking over your shoulder a few times, you walked as casually as possible down the hall in the opposite direction. Marveling at the grandeur, you hardly took note of where you were going until a loud thud brought you out of your thoughts. Looking around, you realized you were quite far from the party, the sounds of the orchestra a distant buzz.

“Fuck!” The vulgarity of the word along with its suddenness nearly knocked you to the ground. Grabbing at your necklace, you shuddered at the next few words that came out; this wasn’t proper for a lady to hear at all. Locating the source from an open doorway, you intended on closing it until you caught a glimpse of what was inside.

A completely naked woman was being pinned to a bookshelf by a man with his pants around his thighs, the violent motion of his hips leaving nothing to the imagination. She looked to be in pain, wincing and whining every so often as the man just kept going. He took so little notice of her, in fact, that her head hit the shelves a few times and although she cried out he didn’t falter.

“Fuck!” He yelled again, grabbing the woman's hair and forcing her head to the side. He did finally slow down and straighten up a bit, finally allowing you to see his pink hair. “Fucking whore.” And just like that, the relative slowness was gone and back was this man's brutality. Forcing the woman to walk over to the desk a bit closer to you, you quickly ducked out of the way before you saw something you shouldn’t. It was quiet for a moment and there was a shuffling sound before the door was ripped open further and you couldn't help the shout you let out.

“Who the fuck- oh. Oh?” The man was clearly ready for a fight but upon seeing you, his face changed into a sly smile. He at least had the decency to dress himself, though you kept your eyes trained onto his face and occasionally the ceiling to preserve your modesty. “Well, aren’t you a ravishing creature…come to join the fun?”

“Absolutely not!” Leaping back at his proposition, your face curled in disgust. He laughed loudly, fully taking in your appearance.

“No of course not, why would you? You are a lady, so prim and proper.” He stretched the word out, almost mocking you with the connotation. “You belong at the party, Miss, so run along before someone catches us alone and we’ll be forced to marry.” Raising his hand in goodbye, the man left you, laughter still on his lips as he slammed the door closed.

All but running back to the party, you avoided your mother in favor of going out to the garden with a few friends that were thankfully in attendance; a chance to marvel at the peacocks and performers outside would give you a chance to catch your breath and forget about what you’d just seen.

“Miss (Y/N), the Queen calls for you.” A servant notified you just as the air turned a bit too chilly for your liking. Bidding your friends farewell, you made your way inside. The polite smile on your face dropped immediately at seeing just why the queen summoned you.

“Ah, my diamond.” Her affectionate tone forced the smile right back on your face but your eyes stayed glued to the person behind her. There, dressed in the finest fabrics and with his cravat intricately tied, was the man you’d seen earlier. As he stood at the Queen’s motion, you noticed the freshly pressed pants and shiny boots he had on and the dazzling watch dangling from a chain.

“This is my nephew, you might have heard of him. The Crown Prince, Ryomen Sukuna.” As she spoke, the Queen's voice grew louder, drawing the attention of everyone within earshot and even those that didn’t hear. “I’ve invited him here personally just to meet you.” A small smirk adorned her face as she took in the crowd before her and the stir her words caused. And it grew even bigger upon seeing your face, the horrored expression mistaken for overjoy.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss (Y/N).” Sukuna made a show of bowing deeply to you.

“Come, sit down and chat for a while, won’t you?” Her request was truly a demand and you knew better than to hesitate or question it, so you nodded and did as you were told.

Taking a seat, you kept your body rigid and faced straight ahead, not even giving so much as a glimpse to your side where you could tell the Crown Prince was watching you. You knew it wasn’t proper and that people - your mother especially - were watching to see how you two got on, but you couldn’t bear to turn and have a conversation with the man you’d just seen in such an uncouth position.

“It truly is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Sukuna said, a light chuckle on his lips. “Never thought the beauty I saw earlier would end up being the diamond of the season.”

“I believe you’re mistaken! We did not see each other earlier, Your Highness. This is the first time we are meeting.” Turning your head swiftly, you forced a smile onto your face instead of the scowl you wanted to show him.

“Yes, my mistake! Must have been another fair maiden that caught my eye.” Sukuna chuckled, settling into his chair just a bit more. He let a pause hang between you before he spoke again. “Tell me, diamond, do you wish to marry this season?”

“Of course I do.” You nodded, allowing yourself to relax a little as well. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about since I made my debut.”

“And what are you looking for in a husband?”

“I want one that is kind, that is loyal to me and whom I can get along with no matter what. And if he likes the arts such as I do, that would be even better.” An answer that you had rehearsed many times with your mother, the words came out of your mouth smoothly.

“Interesting.” Sukuna nodded, folding his hands over each other. “Now, tell me how you really feel.”

“I-I just did.” Quirking a brow at him, you were unsure why Sukuna required more from you on the matter.

“I can tell those aren’t your real words. Tell me how you truly feel.” His face was neutral but not serious or uncomfortable; he seemed to genuinely want an answer from you.

“I…” It took a while but eventually the thoughts you’d suppressed in favor of your mothers came to the surface and you looked down at your gloved hands. “I want someone I can be myself with, someone I won’t need to put on a mask for. And a husband that can value my privacy and give me my own space.” There was more you wanted to say but you stopped yourself; no use in rambling to the man when you could save it for your diary later.

“That’s good to hear, actually.” His response surprised you and had you turning more towards him.

“Really?” There was a tinge of hope growing inside you, one that said maybe the man from earlier wasn’t who he truly was.

“Yes. I’ll need a wife that can leave me the hell alone.” And with that, the tinge died out and your face fell.

“Wh-what?”

“Yes, as you will undoubtedly hear about later I enjoy some rather…unconventional pastimes and leisurely activities and if we are to be wed I’ll take great joy in the fact that you won’t interfere with that.”

“But I-”

“Oh don’t worry, Miss (Y/N), I will give you all the babies you desire if you so wish, but just know my heart will never belong to just one woman. It’s not the way royalty does it, I’m sure you can understand.” Giving you a tight lipped and condescending smile, Sukuna stood from his chair and excused himself, mentioning something about getting the two of you a drink.

“So, what do you think of my nephew?” The Queen asked when he was out of earshot, turning slightly in her chair to look at you.

“He- he is a good conversationalist.” You forced the words out, hoping that the Queen wouldn’t be able to pick up on how your eyes were growing misty despite your best efforts to blink the tears away. “I quite enjoyed some of the ideas he’s shared with me.”

“Wonderful, darling.” There was a tension in the air, like she knew what had happened between the two of you. But she chose not to say anything, instead turning back around as the orchestra played the next song. “Sukuna.” She caught him as he came back, two glasses in hand.

“Yes?” His eyes flicked to you for a moment.

“Dance with Miss (Y/N), will you? I want her to enjoy the party.” The tension in the air was back and Sukuna nodded and swiftly put the glasses down. Standing before you, he offered you his hand.

“Right this way.”

“Of course.” Inhaling sharply, you forced your feelings down and took his hand, letting him lead you to the dance floor. As the song began to start up, you could feel the eyes on you, watching your every move with the Prince and the chemistry you had when dancing.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Sukuna said quietly, his hands resting on your upper back a moment before taking a few steps. “I simply want you to know the truth if you accept the proposal.”

You didn’t respond to him, letting the words soak in. In the moment it had seemed almost cruel that he had spoken to you like that, said those things and dismissed your feelings, hopes and dreams, but thinking about it gave you another perspective. You knew many men in town that had affairs and secret lovers that would never admit it but here was a man that was willing to be honest with you. A man that had no obligation to spare your feelings or protect them.

“Why did you even agree to come then, if that is how you truly feel about marriage?” You finally spoke, looking into his eyes.

“You know as well as I do that we have a responsibility to do this, to get married and play these silly societal games. When my aunt called me I had no choice but to come, you can’t exactly say no to the woman. And I figured why not meet her precious diamond and see what she had to offer, see if I could build the life the world expects of me with her.”

“And what is your verdict?” Sukuna spun you around as you asked and your head laid briefly on his shoulder, catching the scent of his perfume before you were twirled away again.

“I think you’d make a lovely bride, Miss (Y/N). There may be some hardships but I believe we could learn to be happy with each other and our arrangements.” Spinning you a few more times, Sukuna gently helped you to a stop. “I ask you to be aware of what the Queen will ask you soon, what I will be asking you soon. You can always say no.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” As the dance ended, you curtseyed and excused yourself. Slinking away to the refreshments table, you had nary a chance to sip some lemonade before a few more men approached, asking to write in your dance card.

As the night wore on, you danced with many more suitors and eligible young men about town, some that had already called on you and others that were waiting their turn. Some of them were dukes and earls and even a marquess came to you, but none held as high a title as Sukuna did. And with your parents eyes on you, you knew that was what mattered the most.

Going through everyone in your mind, there wasn’t a doubt that some would definitely be better matches for you than Sukuna in the realms of compatibility and chemistry but none would be as wise a choice as he was. Marrying a crown prince of all people would solidify your station in life forever; you and your family would want for nothing and you’d never have to worry about needing to follow the latest trends in fashion because you would be the one setting them.

“His Highness Prince Sukuna surely took a liking to you tonight.” Your mother was alight on the carriage ride home, fanning herself ardently. “Why, I do believe the Queen intends on you to be married before the season is over!”

“From a baroness to a princess, how marvelous that would be!” Unable to stop his excitement either, your father chimed in. It seemed they had already accepted the Prince's proposal on your behalf even though it hadn’t come yet. You didn’t have the heart to tell them that he wasn’t really a good fit for you, that you worried you’d never be truly happy in the marriage and you’d always feel less than when it came to how he felt about you.

“Delightful indeed.” Was what you said instead, allowing your parents to revel in this moment and trying to convince yourself that it couldn’t be that bad to marry a prince, especially if it meant that one day you’d be a queen.

May 14

Diary, I fear that I won’t be able to back out of this arrangement even if I say no to it like Sukuna said I could. If I say no, I know I will have many other suitors knocking at my door but none as prestigious as he is and I can’t bear to possibly face the disappointment of my family if I deny them this great opportunity.

I know I wouldn’t be the first or the last to enter into a marriage like this but I had truly hoped that I could have escaped that fate and found real love, true love! It’s rare but a girl can dream, especially one named as the Queens diamond. You’d think I’d have more time to decide on who to marry!

I suppose I have no choice but to say yes to this, don’t I? Sukuna said he would give me my privacy, so I can at least continue to write here without fear of being judged. I just wonder what the life of a princess will entail and how many new rules will I be forced to learn?

Here's hoping that we can at least grow to have a liking for each other over time, but I know better than to wait around for love.

It was a few days after the ball before you heard word from either Sukuna or the Queen. You knew it was coming but the anxiety of waiting had you pouring too much energy into the other men that called you.

“A visitor for Miss (Y/N) has arrived.” It was announced one afternoon, immediately kicking your heart into overdrive. It was a good thing you had felt the need to dress a little nicer today as your visitor presented himself, none other than the prince.

“Your Highness!” Your mother exclaimed, overjoyed and forcing your siblings to stand as well and greet him. They all bowed or curtseyed, some too young to understand exactly who they were greeting.

“Good day to you all.” Sukuna gave a small bow in return, eyeing up your family before turning to you. “Miss (Y/N), I was hoping we might promenade today around the park? The weather is quite lovely and there are a fair amount of swans out there I’m told.” His offer surprised you, you were sure he was going to ask for your hand right then and there.

“That would be lovely.” You nodded, looking back at your mother who would no doubt chaperone this outing. “Allow me to grab my purse and a shawl.” Excusing yourself, it took no less than five minutes for you to be ready and heading out the house with Sukuna by your side, your entire family not but five feet behind you.

“I’m surprised you called upon me today.” You said upon reaching the park, waving to a few friends who were also on dates. “I was certain that the next time I saw you there would be a ring put upon my finger.”

“Young Miss, please have more faith in me. I thought it only right to court you as the others have, to see if we are truly to be a good match or not.” Sukuna put a hand over his heart in jest.

“Was that your idea or the Queens?”

“I’ll be honest it was her idea, but I have no problem going along with it. It’s only right that we get to know each other a bit more before we are wed.”

“You talk so certainly that I’ll say yes! Who said I wanted to marry you?” His arrogance was starting to annoy you, and the fact that he couldn’t even feign that he was the one interested in learning more about you irritated you to no end.

“Please, would you even think of saying no?” Sukuna quirked a brow at you as you came to a stop to admire a pair of swans. “I am the best match you have to make, one that would elevate your status so highly it would make your head spin. And beside…” He trailed off, looking around at the people in the park. “This sorry lot you associate with aren’t exactly highbrow to begin with.”

“That’s enough!” You shouted, taking a step back from him. A few curious looks were sent your way and you could see your mother start to approach from the corner of your eye before your father stopped her. “Do not dare speak of my friends in such a manner. What would you know of being highbrow anyway, what with the pastimes you partake in!”

“Miss (Y/N), I did not mean to upset you.” Sukuna spoke a little louder for the inquiring minds around you. “Please accept my apology.” And he bowed his head deeply in a show of submission.

“Do not mock me.” You hissed, crossing your arms and turning back to the lake. “I can’t believe I thought you could be a real gentleman.”

“Oh, but I can be.” Resuming his previous position, Sukuna squared his shoulders.

“Only when others are watching though, right?” You began walking again, letting Sukuna fall into step beside you. As a relative quiet fell over you two, you looked at everyone else walking about, seemingly so happy with their matches. A pang of jealousy hit you upon seeing a group of your girl friends out with their matches, laughing happily and getting to enjoy a true love match instead of whatever you were stuck in now.

There was little conversation between the two of you, but to the outside world it looked as if you were just taking a quiet stroll and letting the sounds of nature surround you. Anyone looking in would think that you’re content just being in each other's presence and don’t need words to communicate.

“Let’s stop at a cafe, I’m parched.” You announced, suddenly spotting the building across the street.

“Yes, let's.” Sukuna agreed immediately, following your lead. Opening the door for you and your family, Sukuna made a show of buying everyone something, even your father. With your family scattered about the shop, you and Sukuna took a seat by the window, a place where everyone could walk by and see you together.

“How do you like your parfait?” He asked, sipping on the plain coffee he got himself. Your mother insisted he get a croissant as well and he pulled a piece off and ate it.

“It’s delicious.” With fresh in season fruit throughout, it was a sweet treat you didn’t know you’d been craving. “Thank you.”

“Tell me what it is you like to do for fun.” Leaning back in his chair, Sukuna peered over his glass at you. You felt the urge to correct him on his posture but held back, knowing he would probably just laugh at you.

“I’ve recently taken up the harp and I quite enjoy it, it can be such a calming instrument. I also enjoy the pianoforte, though recently I’ve taken up reading a new book.”

“Reading is quite boring, is it not?” Sukuna smirked at you, enjoying how you fought to keep your expression neutral. “I can’t remember the last time I read.”

“I’m surprised you can read at all.” You rolled your eyes, finding small gratification in how he laughed.

“Me too!” Taking a hearty bite out of his pastry, Sukuna grinned at you, showing the sharp edge of his canines. “I think I’ll like having you as a wife.”

“You shouldn’t be so confident in my acceptance of your proposal, Your Highness.” With a warning tilt to your voice, you took a sip of tea. “I can very well say no to your whole courtship right now and be done with it.”

“But you and I both know you won’t. You wouldn't want to risk the ire of the Queen or your family. And neither would I, Miss (Y/N). I’m tired of being hounded to find a wife and you are the easiest decision ever made for me.”

“You could at least pretend you’re interested in me.” He had a point, you knew little people that went against what the Queen wanted and weren’t shunned for it. There were a great deal of pros outweighing the cons in marrying Sukuna from an economical point of view, but could you find it in you to put your heart aside?

“Trust me, I am plenty interested in you.” His gaze fell downwards and your face immediately started to burn.

“Don’t make me throw my tea on you.” You glared sharply at Sukuna, your tone daring him to continue and for his sake he didn’t and his eyes returned to yours.

“My apologies, Miss. Just admiring a beauty before me.” That statement made a passing few girls giggle and swoon to themselves and you could hardly hold back another eye roll.

Your outing was done shortly after your trip to the cafe with your youngest siblings complaining they were tired. The Prince escorted you home, bowing to you once more and waiting until you were inside before turning and leaving.

“Tell me what that outburst was at the park.” Your mother descended on you the second she got, following you up the stairs to your bedroom.

“The Prince isn’t as fine and dandy as you think he is, he called the ton a bunch of idiots.” You didn’t bother keeping your voice down as you walked, just the thought of what he’d said upset you all over again.

“Why, he is a Prince! Of course we will be simple to him, he is used to so much more!” She argued, throwing her arms up in exasperation. “He meant no harm, I’m sure.”

“Mother.” Turning to face her before opening your door, you sighed upon making eye contact. “I wish I could tell you even half of the things I learned about him…the Prince is not the man you think he is.” You repeated your previous statement; your lip caught between your teeth as you debated telling her more. “I don’t know if I can marry him.” The words made your mother gasp in horror and push a hand over your mouth.

“(Y/N), please tell me you don’t mean it. Please tell me you are just playing a sick joke.” She couldn’t bear to hear you say otherwise. You stared at each other, both of you pleading for different things. The heartbreak in her eyes was evident and she took a step back and composed herself. “V-very well, if that is how you feel I will not force you.”

“Mother…” Your voice trailed off at how downtrodden she looked, it nearly brought you to tears.

“No, please do not say any more. I-I need time to come to terms with this.” Smoothing down her dress, she looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was eavesdropping. The silence allowed for the noises of others in the house to be heard; two brothers fighting over chess, a sister playing the piano. “I will be in the sun room should you need me.”

She left without consequence, calling for a maid to bring her some lavender tea. Finally entering your room, your body pushed the door closed and you sank onto the floor, letting your head fall into your hands. This wasn’t what you wanted to happen in the slightest and now just the prospect of rejecting his proposal was putting immense guilt onto you. Seeing your mother so hurt, imagining the looks on your siblings faces and what your father could possibly say were all too much for you.

May 18

I fear I have made a grave error. It wasn’t my intention to hurt my mother but just the idea of me not marrying a prince was enough to make her beside herself with grief, she was hardly able to look at me during dinner. And I know she’s told father because he was the same way!

Am I really taking away my family’s happiness this much? Am I being selfish by refusing? I think I’m learning now that a marriage, especially this one, is not just between two people. There’s so many others that it affects!

I think I’ll reconsider my rejection - after all, not many can say they were named the diamond and married a crown prince their first season out. I know Sukuna will give me my space if I request and not question me on things…is this potential life worth giving up my hopes of love?

I truly hope it is.

At breakfast the next morning you informed your parents of the change of heart and the sullen mood that was looming over them was washed away in an instance.

“I knew you would come to your senses, girl.” Patting you gently on the shoulder, your father smiled big. “It’s easy to get swept up in nerves during this whole thing but I’m glad you’ve thought about how this marriage will be good for you - for all of us.”

Your siblings were thankfully none the wiser to what had transpired and they begged to be informed. Ignoring them, your mother reached for your hand across the table and squeezed it.

“We must go to the modiste later.”

“What for?” You sent her a curious look, you’d just been there the other day for a fitting!

“For your wedding dress.”

#jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x reader #bridgerton au #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 10 months ago

Note

Do you write for 2012? If so I wanted to know if you write Donnie but if not this can be for Mikey (aged up if you want to put it)

Date night for reader and the turtle (2012/of your choice) , reader teasing the turtle under the table as the waiter/waitress is trying to talk to them to hear their order but some words coming from their turtle boyfriend is slightly slurred (reader can be female bodies but overall gn 🤷‍♀️). After date night (turtle of choice) drags reader to their shared bedroom and then the fun starts 👍

If requests aren't open ignore me 🙌 byeee ✨

Table Tease (18+)

2012!Donatello x reader

A/N: I do write for 2012, I just haven’t done a lot for them yet😅 I’ve changed it from a date night to a family dinner setting, but otherwise it’s the same. Hope you like it💜

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All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Spelling, public foreplay, turtley anatomy.

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What do you do when you’re in the mood, but your boyfriend is in a deep discussion with his oldest brother? You know what, double that. What do you do when you’re in the mood, but you and your boyfriend are sitting at the dinner table with all of his family and closest friends, eating pizza? Well, your first instinct was to push it away. You were an adult after all. You were perfectly capable of pushing any needs away for a more appropriate time. And that was what you decided to do, turning towards Donatello, so you could follow along in the conversation he was having with Leonardo. But you quickly found that your attention wandered, turning their conversation to background noise as you took in your boyfriend's appearance next to you.

You had been with Donnie for so long, yet his face, body and personality never seized to amaze you. His brilliant mind inside of his beautiful head. The way he saw the world and his intricate thoughts had always fascinated you. Almost just as much as his body did. You had always found yourself drawn to Donnie. His tall standing stature and his strong muscles. Even the small details, such as the vein on his neck that would stand out on his neck when he was concentrated, or the veins that ran down his forearms and over his hands.

His hands… If there was one thing that could send you into a dream zone, it was Donnie’s hands. The amount of times you had caught yourself staring at his hands, thinking about all the things they had done to you in the past was too many to count. And now, at the table with Donnie’s family, that was exactly what you did. Watching his hands move as he talked, remembering what they did to you last night. How they had held your legs open for him, giving him all the space he needed before devouring you with his mouth, while using his skilled fingers to bring you closer to the edge. You rubbed your legs together at the thought. Suddenly it seemed very hard to push those before mentioned needs away. And with that, an idea came to the forefront of your thoughts, bringing a smug smile to your face.

Unable to contain yourself any longer, you slowly let a hand slide under the table, before it made its way to Donnie’s knee. For you to place your hand on your boyfriend’s knee was nothing new. It was just yet another way for the two of you to show affection, just like a couple normally would. It was therefore that Donnie’s reaction to your hand was so stubble, with a sweet smile shut in your direction, before he continued his talk with Leo. He even moved his knee closer to you, enjoying the feeling of your warm hand against his skin. But you had no intention of just letting your hand rest there.

A few moments later, while you acted like you were listening to a conversation between Raph, Mikey and Casey, you moved your hand further up Donnie’s leg, letting it rest on his thigh. His leg jumped a bit at this, as a reaction to a surprise. But Donnie did not move his leg away. Instead he gave you a look out of the corner of his eye. He knew what you were doing, but he had no intention of stopping you. So therefore you let your hand slide up even further, just to the point where Donnie’s thigh met the rest of his body, your pinky finger grazing softly against his plastron. Donnie shuffled slightly in his seat at this, a small sigh flowing through his nose as he strained his concentration on Leo’s words. You bit back a smile, nodding at something Mikey said.

Your hand slowly moved across the lower area of Donnie’s plastron, until you found the slit of his already sensitive cloaca. As your pointy and middle finger slowly traced his slit, you felt him tense up slightly, his breath becoming ever so slightly heavier. You could feel the effect you had through his cloaca, the feeling it retract and twitch under your touch. You noticed how Donnie had stopped talking, and was now nodding at whatever Leo had to say, before answering with one or two words. That was when an idea made its way into your head.

Your fingers played around on the outside of Donnie’s cloaca, teasing him ever so slightly with each touch, just waiting for their moment to paunch. That came when Donnie calmed down ever so slightly, getting a little used to the feeling of your fingers against him. Then, finally, Leo ceased to talk, giving Donnie the que to talk. And as he opened his mouth, your fingers did their move. Your two fingers moved through his slit, smoothly sliding through his slice.

“I agree, that move is too slow. It should be more like-”. Donnie stopped mid sentence, his last word being stretched out and slurred. Leo looked at his brother in concern.

“Donnie? Are you okay?”, Leo asked.

“Yes!”, Donnie quickly answered, holding up his pizza slice for his big brother to see, his speech continuing to be slurred ever so slightly. “It’s just, you know, when that bit of pizza hits the right spot”. He punctuated the last word with his knee nudging against yours. In turn you asked Casey about the thing he was talking about, before thrusting your fingers into Donnie’s slit once more, threatening to make the poor guy drop on the spot. This made Donnie hide a moan with another bit of his pizza slice.

You continued your torture on Donnie, until you felt the familiar hardness against your fingers. Donnie took in a big breath, bracing himself for the drop. But then, just before he could allow himself to slip out, you removed your fingers, wiping his slick off on his thigh. Donnie snapped his head towards you, his eyes boring into you and your smug smile. Leo once again asked his brother in concern if he was okay, forcing Donnie to turn his attention back to their conversation. How Donnie was gonna make you and your smugness pay for that.

As people finished their food and got ready to leave the table, you knew you had to act fast.

“Well, that was fun”, you smiled as you stood from the chair. “Thank you so much for dinner, but I should probably get home now-”.

“Oh no, you don’t!”, Donnie exclaimed, jumping from his chair, grabbing on to you before you could walk too far. The shocked expression on everyone's faces brought him back to reality, remembering that the two of you weren’t alone. Flustered and unsure of what to do, he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, before running to his bedroom, leaving them staring after you in confusion.

Once inside Donnie’s bedroom, he slammed the door shut with a loud bang, using his foot. He wasted no time before throwing you onto the bed with a yelp. He climbed on top of you, holding your arms down by your head, and forcing your legs apart using the knee you had felt on a few moments ago. You giggled up at him, already knowing what danger you were in.

“What do you have to say for your defense?”, Donnie smiled mischievously, his face mere centimeters from yours, his thumbs stroking your wrists, and using his other leg to spread your other leg open for him.

“Upsi?”, you smiled innocently, giving your shoulders a small shrug.

“You just fingered me while I was talking to my brother, until I almost dropped right under the table, in front of my whole family, and all you have to say is; ‘upsi’?”, Donnie asked, giving you one last chance to redeem yourself.

“Yup!”, you nodded with a big smile, almost eager to see what your boyfriend was going to do about it.

Donnie tsked and shook his head from side to side, bringing your wrists to one hand, allowing his other hand to move down your body, feeling your sides as he moved his hand down to the button and zipper of your pants. “That was not the answer I was looking for, (Y/N)”.

“It wasn’t?”, you said, acting oblivious, fighting a satisfied smile as Donnie’s hand ran down past your pants and into your underwear. “I had no idea”.

Donnie’s hand grazed your sensitive folds, just like you had done to his cloaca just a few moments ago. At the feeling of your slick against his finger, Donnie smiled down at you. “Already wet?” He smoothed his finger against your wet folds, enjoying the way you curled your legs up around him. “Is that from teasing me during dinner?”

“Maybe”, you sighed, slightly grinding yourself against his finger to gain some friction.

Donnie removed his finger from your pants, causing you to whine, until he moved his attention back onto your pants, letting go off your wrists to use both hands to pull them down along with your underwear.

“Luckily for you”, Donnie said as he threw them onto the floor, before moving to pull your shirt off of you. “I feel like we’ve been through enough foreplay already”. He threw your top and bra onto the floor. “So lay back and let me fuck that tease out of you”.

Fair to say, your idea worked on Donnie like a charm.

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ailithnight · 2 years ago

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Aheem... prompt from @regonold

16 Hours

Danny remembers the first time something shorted out his powers. Vlad with his stupid Plasmius Maximus thing. Well, 'remembers'. Mostly he remembers the aftermath.

Apparently Vlad hadn't known at the time exactly how Danny ended up half ghost. He thought it had been a slower progression like his own development. It hadn't occurred to him that Danny's original death had been much quicker.

Danny remembers a short, light shock. Really, the spector deflector was worse. But this shock... suddenly his muscles were seizing, his heart stuttering, his Lichtenbergs burning. And then, nothing. A blank space in Danny's head that apparently spanned 3 hours.

Next thing he knows, they're in some kind of vehicle. There are sirens outside (a police escort, Danny would later learn). His mom is driving like her life depends on it. And Vlad is giving him chest compressions, looking grieved and panic striken. He's crying. They both are.

"Please tell me you didn't have to kiss me." His voice comes out pained and raspy. Mom almost crashes the vehicle.

"No, Little Badger. Thankfully, you kept breathing. Just your heart that was struggling." Vlad chuckled, guilty yet relieved.

It was another hour before they made it to the nearest hospital from the stupid hunting cabin. 6 more for all the stupid medical tests. "An accident," Vlad told them. "Small shock, but with an already weak heart..."

Any other time, Danny might have argued. Tried to make Vlad admit more guilt. But the whole ordeal had exhausted him to much to care then.

The second time was marginally better. At least with the Fenton Crammer, it was a steady loss. And Danny managed to fix it before his healing factor fully failed. It still hadn't been pleasant, fighting Skulker and dealing with Dash while phantom echoes of his death arced across his body. But he'd managed.

This. This is so much worse. Danny thought it would be like the Crammer again. A steady decline. But it isn't.

And it isn't like the Maximus either, a one then done, pain then nothing, dying then dead, moment.

No. This is more like the blood blossoms. This is torture. This is hell.

The suppression cuffs let just enough of his power bleed through, just enough healing factor, to keep him alive. Alive and in agony for... hours? Days? Weeks? Minutes? Danny couldn't really tell. His thoughts had long since turned to nothing but static and pain. All he knew was that time was passing around him while he was here, suffering on the absolute brink of death yet unable to embrace it.

Oh god he wanted to die. Please just let him die already! It's too much. A death that should only last a few seconds drug out into an eternity. His muscles ached with the strain of being locked up. His insides were broiling from the electric heat. His heart stuttered and stopped and started and stuttered. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts!

He might have been screaming. He might have been Wailing. Or he might he been choking on weak uneven breaths. Danny didn't know. Didn't care to know. Didn't care if he ever found out the details of his time in chains. He just wanted, no needed, it to end. But it just dragged on and on and on. And Danny was lost in it.

Too far gone to even realize when it ended.

Batman hadn't been there when the new meta appeared, quite literally materializing from nowhere in the conference room mid-meeting. He had been dealing with a mass Arkham breakout at the time. So he wasn't there. An unfortunate fact which will haunt him for the rest of his life and possibly beyond.

He should have been there. If he had only been there...

He didn't blame his team mates. They didn't know. Who would have guessed that simple power suppression cuffs could ever be an instrument of torture. He'd never considered it possible.

He didn't blame his team mates. How could he blame them? Batman wasn't even the one to connect the dots. Red Robin figured it out. He always was good at stringing together thoughts know one else would think to connect.

Red Robin asked the right questions. He figured out in 5 minutes what the rest of the league and the best doctors -not technically- on earth had been agonizing over for 16 hours.

16 hours too long.

He should have been here. Should have come sooner.

"Don't know, B!" Flash had met him at the Zetas, already rambling at top speed before he could reorient himself after teleportation. Everyone else had gone home, unable to help and needing to tend to their own cities and responsibilities.

"He just- He appeared out of nowhere while we were in meeting. Didn't trip any alarms or nothing. Just popped up. We figured it had to be teleportation, but he'd have to know where the Watchtower was to do that.

So we figured, you know, random kid teleporting into the Watchtower during a Justice League meeting. Not good. Big threat. Bats would tell us to detain. So we did.

But before we could get him to a holding cell, there was this flash of light and he changed or something. He had white hair and green eyes and some sort of jumpsuit on when he appeared.

But after the light he had black hair and a t-shirt and jeans and I actually didn't see his eyes cause he just collapsed on the spot.

Started convulsing or seizing or something. And screaming. God, B, the screaming... So we took him to medbay and...

He's dying B. He has to be. He's got a fever that keeps spiking and dropping, his muscles keep spasming, and his heart keeps giving out...

He looks 14. He looks like..."

Flash had trailed off there, as they reached medbay. Bruce understood his reluctance to complete that sentence as soon as he saw the boy.

He looks like a Robin.

Like all 4 of his sons combined.

Like someone mixed Dick's and Jason's faces and put it on Tim's body at Damian's age.

It can't even be a trick. The suppression cuffs are nullifying his abilities. This is what he truly looks like.

His sons.

In pain.

In agony for 16 hours because Batman prioritized Gotham over an emergency on the Watchtower.

"When exactly did you say he collapsed."

"When we were moving him to a holding cell after we caught him. He was a trick to catch too. He-"

Red Robin cut him off. "Yeah, sure. But when exactly did this start. What happened immediately before?"

Flash was less then pleased about being interrupted, but acquiesced after a look from Batman. Tim had an idea. Tim was on to something. "Like I said, just after we caught him and got the cuffs on so he'd stop slipping away again."

Bruce couldn't keep the growl out of his voice one he realized what Tim was suggesting. Of course he knows it wasn't their fault. He's told all of them as much since. But in the moment...

"Take them off!"

"What?"

"It's the cuffs! Take the damn cuffs off! They're killing him!"

Flash wasted no more time, bolting out of the room to fetch the disabler. Tim didn't bother waiting for the fastest man alive. He had the cuffs disabled before Flash would have been able to swipe his access card into the detainment center storage room. Bruce practically threw the cuffs out of the room in his haste to get them away.

The change had been... not nearly as quick as Bruce would have liked. The heartrate settled out almost instantly, although into something a bit too slow for comfort. But it was steady and Bruce knew nothing about this kid's normal physiology so he counted it a win.

The screaming, of course, had long since choked off. According to Flash's report, his vocal cords failed after about an hour. But his facial expressions still indicated consciousness, though not awareness.

The muscles stopped spasming and unlocked slowly over the course of several minutes. Flash was back by then, looking a bit put out to have lost a race against Red Robin. Batman could not give a single flying fuck about Flash's ego right then.

Shortly after his muscles unlocking was when he finally passed out. Once more, Batman thought about 16 hours. 16 hours and he hadn't even been able to slip into unconsciousness for relief. He should have been here.

The fever was the slowest to break. In that it still hadn't broken almost 2 hours later. Batman had sent Tim and Flash home after Red Robin finished squeezing all the details he could out of Barry. Tim had given him a look before leaving, some mixture of worry and mischief. "Should I tell Agent A to prepare a room?" Bruce just rolled his eyes and shooed him off. Hopefully to bed. Knowing his son, probably not. Tim was most likely still up doing research. Bruce wanted to call Alfred to wrangle Tim to sleep.

But calling Alfred would mean leaving the room so the still potentially a threat meta couldn't hear if he woke up. And Bruce couldn't leave him. Not until the fever broke. Not until he woke up. Not until he knew the boy that looked like his sons would be okay.

Not until he could apologize for being late.

16 hours.

16 hours too late.

#DP x DC #my writing #Danny needs his ghost powers to live AU #Lookit #Everyone commenting on that post like it would take days to figure it out #No #Just no #Bat comes in #Or Red Robin here #Cause Batman takes one look at the kid and starts shutting down #Danny looks too much like his sons #But the detective family #You cant convince me not at least one of the Bats would jump to the right answer nigh instantaneously #Them are some smart Birds #Ya feel?

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running-with-kn1ves · 8 months ago

Note

I have enjoyed your some of stories! You are a wonderful writer and I'd like to request a story if you don't mind.

(Kinda related to you mimic one)

Can I get a Yandere male monster that traps the reader in an endless fourth-dimension-like plane? Their they are trapped in a place (whatever you decide) with the monster that endlessly stalks them with mimic appearances or voices, gaslights, acts psychology cruel, and is generally highly manipulative. The creature loves the reader but loves in an utterly devoted alien way.

No non-con. Toxic/forced relationship but no non-con. Plus, I've also believed that any truly alien/nonhuman creature wouldn't think nor desire sex in the same way as us humans do.

I hope you consider my request and have a great day!

A/N: This was sent in a WHILE ago, but here is my interpretation!

CW: Sleep paralysis-like/mimic creachure, kidnapping (?), possessive dialogue & behavior, nightmares, etc.

Synopsis: You wake up to something staring at you from the end of your bed.

Apparently no matter how many melatonin gummies you take, your sleep is not guaranteed to be a peaceful, long-term slumber. You too, can be awoken in a deep sweat while stuck to your mattress by an unseen shadow figure in the corner of your room. A couple nights ago it was in-between your closet doors, but something about that just wasn’t close enough, apparently.

It reached the end of your bed, black blurred fingers reaching up like the cold beneath your blankets, your ankle crushed by the grip of a frigid hand. It drew you forward, sliding you unceremoniously to the end of the bed. Your eyes were frozen, going watery as your body cramped. fear turned your skin into needles with your heart on the verge of exploding inside of you.

Each time ‘it’ came to visit you, it was enough to paralyze you in a suffering state of fright. You thought sleep paralysis demon’s were supposed to stay in their corners, just barely touching the tips of your toes, keeping you frozen in fear from a distance. But this, it came to huff on you with damp breath, always feeling unbelievably real, even in the achy mornings.

You were slid to the edge of the bed, silent screams unable to escape from your mouth as each leg disappeared into darkness, the rest of your body slowly following. You were being dragged into some dark, fuzzy hole of emptiness, yanked completely in by a twisting arm. It circled around your ankles entirely like shackles, turning your feet purple.

Your wide, dilated eyes were shifted from seeing the spinning blades of your ceiling fan, to the stary black of a rippled room of infinity. The “sky,” twinkled with small dots of light, but they sparkled in a way most stars didn’t. The ground wasn’t wet, but it seemed to flow over you, like waves of blurry obsidian sea brushing against the sides of your body.

The collective cackling of grainy, laughtrack voices in sync rang out. It was a flashbang of noise in the echoing universe, this other realm repeating sound differently than you had ever heard before.

“So easy…. Too easy!”

You recognized the voice to be from one of the characters in the show you watched before going to bed… but you couldn’t remember, who it belonged to. It was masculine, almost game show host-esque in inflection.

You swallowed. You felt worse, frozen in this infinity pool of unknown, trapped to the floor and completely exposed to whatever dragged you in here.

‘Wake up.’ You scrunched your eyes shut. ‘Wake up…!’ Your toes wiggled, still feeling that abyss of dark ‘water.’ ‘Please just wake up!’

“There’s no use, not when I have your body here stuck in limbo.”

The face of your 10th grade “boyfriend” appeared, peering down at you with his post-braces teeth, shining like a shark. But that wasn’t him, it wasn’t even his skin. Parts of him were twisted and too fractured, blurred out as if details of what he truly looked like were manufactured to be hidden.

The beast, it had his voice though.

“You looked so vulnerable while sleeping, turning blissfully frightened when you saw me hiding…” He laughed with a snort, a trait your highschool 5-second ‘lover’ often let out.

But that face was quickly peeled off by black fingers, blurry ones, those that ripped you from your bed. The dark mass left behind turned into a handsome young surgeon, one on the telenovela your friend had forced you to watch the other day. He was famous in Brazil, often for playing the devious, unexpected villain.

You could see the smile in his eyes before he took of the surgical mask, piercing greens big and bright with cheekbones sharper than the scalpel he killed his victims with.

You could hardly mumble between your tight lips, frozen as a gloved hand ran down your navel.

“I’ve seen what humans look like on the inside… but you make me so curious.” He spoke, slight portuguese accent snuffed by a long black tongue glazing over his full lips. “But I would never hurt my sweetly gentle creature, who couldn’t help but walk into my den… Should’ve been more careful in your dreams, my dear.”

“Wht’re talkin’ abt…” Cold drops fell down your neck, lips sewn shut as your gaze unwavered against the demon surgeon. His soft pupils were growing large enough to consume him.

“Our little, how do you say.. Date.” His pearly teeth disappeared and swirled into a new face, a 2D one of your childhood cartoon crush, the one you had the pleasure of lucid dreaming a cuddle session of. He had needed your help, desperate and despairing as he was stuck behind a midnight-colored, steel door. “Only you can open it.” He ushered, muffled behind the lock as he pleaded for release. He sounded so guttural, so unlike how you remembered in the hundreds of episodes…

But that smug, one-liner attitude and charming face that taught you love as a child came through and it praised you for such kindness. He was so flattering, your consciousness wrapped around his finger as the character of your dreams fed you sweet line after line.

“Have you never heard of leaving unknown doors closed in the unconscious world? Or were you too dense-headed to realize some dreams are too good to be true.” Your cartoon crush spat, A clawed hand coming up to pinch your cheek.

“Then again if you hadn’t been so brainless, we wouldn’t get to be here together. I guess I have you to thank for making you so… capturable.”

You clenched your teeth, wincing with every painful beat of your heart the closer the creature came. It morphed from your beloved character to a faceless black void, red filling where its features should be. With a ragged snap, its breathing left in chopped pieces. Out sprouted its teeth, protruding from cracks in its ink skin, splitting in its sternum and human-like arms. Along the middle of its fadingly red-black face, layers of teeth were rubbed over with individual tongues. They all seemed to speak, to breathe in rhythm as they chomped and let out guttural purrs.

“Plsz…Let m..go..!” You gurgled out, the sensation of its black wholeness wrapping around you like a blanket fort.

From its- his? Confession, you concluded he must be the reason your body’s been stuck in a deep sweat, spasming muscles immovable besides shaking against each other.

Tendrils made of something similar to the thick fog crashing waves over you began to wrap around your legs, leaving a thick, snail slime against your skin with each slow slither. The tips of them had a mind of their own, tentacles swirling, tickling and inching as their latter, larger midparts connected to the shadow beast hanging above you. Each new textured offspring latched and crawled up your body, dragging you closer and closer to the lower half of the beast. Its humanoid-shaped head tilted, fingers-- not tentacles, this time-- grappled at your arms stuck to your sides. Its eyes began to sprout, polka-dotting his body as an array of eyes covered his void of a face.

“You wouldn't be able to live without me… those blissful dreams with whatever handsome creature preoccupied your subconscious. I'm all of them, and they are me.” A black gooey tendril circled around your cheek, the tip wiggling to caress. “I am the prince charming you have run to, night after night, begging to be let out of that hole until you finally caved.” Faces flashed on his empty skin, ones you faintly remember from past dreams that always seemed to make your heart skip a beat. Our rendezvous kept me going all this time..So long i’ve watched you in the waking world from the shadows, wishing I could hold that pretty, unaware face.. My savior, my pet; I'm finally free to trap you for myself!”

He flashed to red again, the tendrils and hands keeping you still staying all the same, before the horrors’ face returned to a horrifying amalgamation of teeth and haunting black eyes.

You wriggled the small bits of your body that were free from paralysis, however that only seemed to be your tongue and toes, your arms jerking only minutely despite the screams inside your head telling you to move. Wherever you were, whatever time it was, it wasn't the same as your bedroom. You were limitless, the space around you nothing but a black hole sucking up everything around it into nothing.

You hardly recalled the dreams it mentioned, The faces only barely ringing a bell. But it was enough for him to see the familiarity flash in your eyes, a smile piercing that mouth of a face that looked as if it wanted to devour you.

“so tender.. so soft, I forgot what it was like having a human nearby at my disposal, receiving the flush of my form and my affection.. I'm afraid I'll never have the heart to free you from my burdened presence.” it chuckled a tad, fingers from its firmly real hands gliding to your shoulders. “Well, to be honest I never intended to, the moment I entered your sweet nightmares...”

You dared to think of speaking, only to find your mouth in a crumpled frown and the air in your chest nearly gone. It felt like you were suffocating under a great weight, sweating under your pajamas as a creature-like nail came to wipe away a drop of perspiration, or a tear, from your eye.

“Now, let's see what fun we can have here before the sun comes up.”

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ferrstappen · 7 months ago

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mónaco l Carlos Sainz

(a/n): this is a very short piece based on one of my favorite songs of all time which, by coincidence, is called Mónaco by Lagos and Danny Ocean. If you listen to it you can picture yourself having a summer romance with Carlos, true story. I'd love to dive deeper into it, but idk I just needed to get it out fast for some reason. hope you like it, feedback is always welcomed<3

summary: pero si algo que nos quedó es todo lo que pasó en Mónaco (but if there’s something left in us then it’s everything that happened in Monaco)

no sé si te acuerdes, de la vez que nos perdimos en septiembre

she'd never forget the warm september night when Carlos took her to the casino for the first time. He still wasn't very familiar with the principality and she was just a fleeting person for a couple of weeks, months, and he couldn't count on her of all people to know the streets of the heavenly Monaco.

As the flutes of Don Perignon continued to flow, he became more and more animated, trying his best to explain the intricate science behind poker and the true meaning behind each card. But despite his best efforts, she found herself unable to concentrate on his words. Instead, she was deeply lost in his eyes, taking in every detail of his sparkling hazel hue.

As she continued to stare, he finally noticed the piercing gaze, causing a warm flush to rise in his cheeks. A shy smile appeared on his lips, and she couldn't resist the urge to lean in and place a gentle kiss on them and when she pulled away, his smile grew wider making her fall deeper and deeper in this announced tragedy.

Everything was good until Carlos realized he was drunk, couldn't drive and didn't remember his address, eyes growing comically large as he came to terms that his alcohol-consumed brain really couldn't remember the name of his street, meaning someone had to drive him and his companion through the beautifully and carefully lit streets until one of you started to recognize his complex and as unusual and absurd of a situation they were in, she couldn't stop giggling as the streets kept passing by in a blur and watched Carlos still trying his best to remember.

tantas veces que tomé tres escalas para verte, creo que me acostumbré a tenerte como si no fuera a acabar.

her time in Monaco was over and Carlos' career in Toro Rosso was steadily climbing, he couldn't afford to take his mind off the track and she understood, she was willing to fly over just to see him.

but it started to fade away.

she was still willing to deal with three layovers to see Carlos, and his caramel eyes still sparkled when he saw her, but there was something missing, this wasn't like their late nights in strolling around Monaco, drinking cheap wine even if they could afford a way nicer bottle.

they weren't stupid, this wasn't meant to last any longer than a couple weeks in autumn, a simple memory, one of those people you can close your eyes and feel their scent, mind playing tricks that maybe if they closed their eyes long enough they might get a feel of the soft skin of each other, running her thumb through his cheek while he tried to fall asleep.

yo sé que para volver ya es tarde, y nuestro plan nunca fue quedarse, no sé si habrá una segunda parte, pero si hay algo que nos quedó es todo lo que pasó en Mónaco.

she stopped flying over, Carlos stopped asking her to spend the weekends off in his apartment, just the two of them

Both reminded themselves this wasn't meant to last, wasn't supposed to create one single string, but they both failed.

chances were, they would find each other again maybe on another holiday, another masters degree, PhD, Grand Prix; a part two, a proper goodbye to te September walks in heels she couldn't take off in order to not get a fine, pouting so Carlos would carry her on his back, as if they knew each other their entire lives.

it wasn't important now.

all they had left was what happened in Monaco.

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translations <3

no sé si te acuerdes, de la vez que nos perdimos en septiembre: i don't know if you remember about the time we got lost in September.

tantas veces que tomé tres escalas para verte, creo que me acostumbré a tenerte como si no fuera a acabar: so many times i took three layovers just to see you, I think I got used to having you as if it was never gonna end.

yo sé que para volver ya es tarde, y nuestro plan nunca fue quedarse, no sé si habrá una segunda parte, pero si hay algo que nos quedó es todo lo que pasó en Mónaco: i know it's too late to come back and staying wasn't our plan, i don't know if there's gonna be a second time, but if something's that's left in us is everything that happened in Monaco.

#carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz blurb #carlos sainz au #carlos sainz angst #f1 fluff #f1 fics #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you

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astrumark · 1 year ago

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── GIVE ME THAT LITTLE BIT OF SATISFACTION ★.

PAIRING: aemond targaryen x female reader.

SUMMARY: aemond needs your assistance after a battle, in more ways than one.

WARNINGS: blood, curse words, smut with plot, use of coconut oil as lube, hand-job, p in v, tits sucking, multiple orgasms, creampie, a hint of sub aemond? oops? :3

WC: 5.3K

NOTES: obviously this is my take on what happened after rook's rest. the show's approach next year will definitely be different. but it's fun working with the book's events and its lack of minor details (you can fill it in however you wish!).

Your eyes flutter open with a jump, a firm hand gripping your shoulder. You didn't remember when you had fallen asleep, or what hour it was, but certainly wasn't the time for your shift yet. It takes a few seconds for your cloudy vision to focus on where you were, now noticing the older servant in front of you, and you look at her dazedly.

"The prince has just arrived, and requests your presence," Annabel explains.

Aemond. Immediate relief washes over you as your face softens. "Very well."

You leave the servants' quarters as fast as you can after fixing your appearance, and as you walk through the halls, you notice the castle is way too agitated. Tension and seriousness ripple in the air, and you start to feel uneasy as well, mind fumbling with numberless possibilities.

It's one of the gold cloaks that finally speaks a little louder, talking fervently about the victory of the greens at the battle of Rook's Rest. It had been quite a few days since their army had marched, and news was often shared about their progression. Usually, you tend to avoid it, since most of it makes you feel sick in your stomach.

Besides the armored man, there is no more commemoration or sense of victory. Not on this side of the castle, at least. Lords were probably planning on throwing banquets, but people like you are too aware of the damages of the war, and how at the end of the day the smallfolk suffer the most. Countless common people would die in the name of greedy royalty that know no limits to their ambition, families ruined beyond repair, a ravaging hunger was plaguing the poorest, and the coffers would soon be emptied, money being spent on battles other than improving the realm and making life easier. It's obvious how no good could ever come regardless of the result of the war.

You find Annabel again, shouting order after order, the middle-aged woman was the one in charge of the servants for a good while now and was a reliable source of information.

"What happened?" You approach her.

"A lot happened, child." Her tone is somber.

"Did someone die?" What a foolish question. Not just someone, but hundreds.

"The queen who never was and her dragon."

You grimace, reminiscing about the princess back when she was visiting the Red Keep. Although such casualties are expected during the war, it is still difficult to grasp that the imposing woman is dead. It's fearful how one's life could be ripped from them so suddenly. A paralyzing concern floods you. Aemond being back does not mean he is unharmed.

"Has the prince been hurt?" Your voice falters, your heart pounding with fear.

Annabel's gaze flickers to your face, and you could see her disapproval, almost making you wish to recoil. But she would never say a thing about your unusual closeness with the prince, being unlike her to intrude in personal affairs. You are aware she doesn't like Aemond or any of the royals, but then again very few did. You have grown to understand it was not only because of his eye, or lack thereof, but because he simply did not inspire sympathy. Aemond is stoic, defensive, and difficult to relate to. You were only one of the very few lucky enough to know better.

"The prince is fine," Annabel says and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "However, it is said the king is in critical condition, it is not known if he will recover, and his dragon is unable to fly, one of his wings was damaged during the fight."

You gasp, in your slumber you have forgotten about the man, not being concerned about him in the slightest. Anyhow, you feel your mind almost melting as you process the shocking news and the aftermath of it. If the king were to perish, that means Aemond would be regent until his nephew is of ideal age. Seven. "Poor Sunfyre."

Annabel tries to scold you, but the amusement behind her blue eyes is hard to conceal. "You are pitying the dragon, not the king?"

"Well, people have the free will of choice, and are aware of the consequences their actions might have… a dragon can only obey their rider's command, isn't it right?"

"We cannot say. These magical creatures are beyond our comprehension."

You ponder. "That is true."

After the quick conversation, you make your way to one of the huge kitchens, assuming the prince would probably fancy a bath. Warming up buckets of water, you carry them to Maegor's Holdfast with the help of three other servants.

A strong smell of blood and smoke fills your nose as you enter his quarters, and your eyes widen. The expensive rug is stained and marked by large boots, and even more astounding is the prince's appearance.

Aemond is lounging on a chair close to his study table. His face and hair are covered by blood, ash, and dirt, and splatters of dried blood stains his black and gold armor. His braids are loose, and you can even notice some twigs tangled in his silver strands. However, the prince's hands are the most distressing, gloves discarded at some point and almost fully covered by the red liquid. With a frown, you deduce it must be from his brother's injury. He looks haunting, almighty, and ruthless. There's a scowl on his face, though his eyes seem perturbed.

You notice how the servants' hands seem to tremble slightly as they pour the water into the bathtub in the next room, their eyes never daring to look up while adding some essential oils and chamomile herbs to the water as well, however, you cannot share their fear. All you wish to do is reach out and comfort him. Leaving one of the buckets outside the bathroom, you can see from the corner of your eyes the one-eyed man dismissing the other servants with a wave of a hand, and they seem eager to oblige. You kneel in front of him.

"I am glad you are well," You squeeze his knees. "And tremendously sorry for your brother."

Aemond does not respond, and his gaze is piercing as he stares at you as if memorizing each detail of your face. You don't look away either, a comfortable but powerful silence pairing between the two of you. His fingers slowly graze your cheek, and you do not mind the blood, eyes closing with the delicate caress.

"Help me undress, will you?"

You nod, aware he was never one to talk in deep about his emotions and thoughts, to allow himself to be vulnerable. Nonetheless, you've been noticing this quietness getting worse ever since Storm's End, and although concerned, you would not push him. Especially because you weren't even aware of the extent of your relationship. That he has a certain tenderness for you is clear, but the amount of liberties you could take with the royal is not as much.

Carefully undoing his heavy armor, the pieces fall to the ground with a whump, and the clothes underneath are a lot easier to deal with. His defined body slowly comes into view, a few goosebumps arising on his bare skin with the sudden lack of materials. Aemond's nakedness is of no surprise to you, though you could never help but admire him. Grabbing a cloth you wet it in the bucket nearby and start to clean his face first, hoping to get rid of the thicker layers of dirt before starting the bath.

Your touch is light, afraid to harshly rub any scratches, big or small. "Are you hurt in any way?"

Aemond shakes his head. "None of the blood is mine," He says. "It's from the princess and my brother, and their dragons. I believe some from Lord Staunton and his garrison as well."

You shudder with discomfort and drift your attention to cleaning his hands, the cloth immediately being painted red, you discard it for another as you move to the other hand. You've always enjoyed tending to him.

His hair comes next, and you take off his eyepatch. Undoing the braids is quick, long accustomed to it, though his strands are now sticking and smelling terribly, like a pan that spent too much time on fire, simply nose scrunching and suffocating. Aemond moves his head side to side with a growl after you are done, the bones of his neck cracking.

The prince sighs pleasantly as he enters the tub, and you grab a bowl to wet his hair. The silver strands get soaped quickly as you massage his scalp with both hands, his good eye close, and the sapphire twinkles.

After washing it, you fetch another soap bar, one that the merchant guaranteed you was special, something about adding more oils while making it. There was no harm in trying, and you were surprised by how such a thing made his hair healthier, not as dry which means fewer cuts, and more tamed and lustrous. His strands instantly become more emollient as you run the soap along the length.

Aemond seems completely unbothered as you get to scrub his body, the fine hairs covering his arms and legs so light it's barely visible. It's, in fact, a moment of relaxation and customariness, a routine for both of you. But the water is already dirty and gray by now, and you cannot help but recall it's not only ashes and dirt but also the mixed blood of people and beasts alike. Some perished.

You do not notice the silver-haired staring at you until he speaks. "You do not seem very pleased."

You raise your eyebrows. "Is there something to be pleased about?"

"Is there not?" He squints his eye. "We have just won a battle."

"Congratulations."

"Your sincerity is appreciated." His voice is dripping with sarcasm. "You know you can speak freely with me." He studies your face.

You bite your lips, focusing on the task at hand and adding more soap to the scrubber. The prince would never understand your point, so you would rather avoid a useless discussion. Especially today.

Unfortunately, he doesn't give up, cocking his head. "What is restraining you from doing so? Are you disgusted? Would you prefer me to not have killed all those cunty traitors?" His voice is low, dangerous. "Would you prefer to have that whore sitting on the throne? Is that the reason for your unpleasantness? Do you believe she's more suitable than my brother? Than me?"

You look at him sternly, the scrubber falling to the water with a splash. His face is now a lot closer to yours, but he does not intimidate you, never did, and probably never will. But he hits a nerve, and your mouth moves even before you could notice you were speaking.

"I would prefer your family to resolve the succession issue in another way other than submitting the kingdom to a devastating war with horrendous consequences, for all of you certainly, as proved by your nephew's death and older brother's injury now, but mostly, innocent people that have nothing to do with your schemes." Your voice holds a cold rage. "That is my opinion if it's of any importance to you, but I highly doubt it."

Aemond scoffs, shaking his head and averting his eye for a minute. His finger rests on top of his mouth, and there's still blood underneath his nails. He inhales to control his annoyance. He looks like he's going to say something, but then changes his mind, closing his lips and opting for another choice of words.

"You would not understand it, as a commoner." He looks at you up and down, not with the usual desire, but with a hint of superiority now, clear in how the corner of his lips twitches upward dismissively.

You are quick to respond. "Nor would you, as a prince."

Deafening silence. You have a good point, the drastic difference in your backgrounds would never let you completely understand one another's views and priorities. Aemond sighs.

"You are lucky I am fond of you." A truce.

You chuckle. "And I do not dislike you entirely."

The prince smiles, tight-lipped, but it is lovely, showing off his beautiful dimples. The rest of the bath goes calmly as you resume the chore. You wrap his hair in a cotton towel, and his body in a linen one. You leave the prince to dry himself while you make your way to the bedchamber, gathering loose mud green trousers and some shea butter.

The one-eyed stands in his full glory as you spread the product all over his lean body. Back, arms, chest, and stomach, then his legs. When you get up from your kneeling position, his hand wraps around your neck swiftly, bringing your body forward and kissing you.

You return it immediately, deep and eager. However, it's also contemplative and cozy, almost lazy as you taste one another. Your hand rests on his forearm, the softness and warmth of his lips never failing to get you weak on the knees, and he smells great now, fresh. Your eyes seem unable to open as you get lost in the small kisses and teases.

"Do not resent me, beauty." He says as you part.

You smile against his mouth, you thought it was precious when he got like this, clingy in his way. It was only on these rare occasions that he let his pride and loftiness aside, and would do everything to prevent you from being upset with him. Seeking your comfort in such an intense manner it was flattering.

A verbal answer doesn't leave your lips, you just kiss him again, and it's enough. "Get dressed and sit down." You motion to the dressing table, throwing the trousers at him.

You comb his hair delicately, adding some sunflower oil to his scalp before braiding his damp hair, he prefers it this way, claiming it was the only way it wouldn't get tangled up in the morning. You start from his very root, sectioning small amounts of silver hair and crossing them over in between your fingers, slowly but surely creating a beautiful and tight pattern. It's not a fast process, but you delight in it and you suspect so does the man in front of you, almost purring as you work. Tying the end of it, you rub his shoulders affectionately, his skin always warm beneath your palms.

"I am sore," Aemond complains. "A massage would be great."

You grin, pecking his cheek from behind. "As you wish, my Prince."

He is truly very tense, and you cannot fathom how distressing all that he witnessed is. You suppose it was a life-changing experience, in the worst way possible. It was clear how his eye hardened considerably in a short time. You would have surely run to the hills in his place, but he doesn't. He breathes and keeps his composure, hiding away all his fright, pretending to be indifferent, that he accepts his duty and the price of it gladly. But nobody would, less they lacked emotions.

Aemond lays down on his stomach, folding his arms above his head. Grabbing a bottle of coconut oil from the table, you take off your shoes and raise your dress to your knees before crawling on the bed to sit on top of his butt.

His body jolts as you drip a generous amount of oil on his large back, his muscles flexing. His body is so magnificent you could easily imagine a greater force meticulously creating each detail of it. Aemond moans the moment your hands start to caress his lower back. Your first touches are gentle, tracing circles up and down with your fingertips, mapping where you can feel some knots. Your hands move from his sides, to his shoulders, and up to the back of his neck, pinching it slightly.

"Fuck," Aemond grunts, voice muffled by the mattress. "This feels nice."

You add more pressure, stroking his back up and down, and after a few minutes back to tracing firm circles, this time with the heel of your hand. The prince is unable to contain noises of pleasure. Laying one of your hands on top of the other, you start the process of pushing his spine, once again beginning down and going up. A few cracks are heard.

Then, you add gentle pressure with your thumbs on his knots, his grunts are now a little bit more uncomfortable, but it's necessary. After you are done, you softly knead his back up and down, and then start switching between circling and stroking.

Aemond's moans along with the feel of his skin start to alight a desire in you, your lower stomach tingling in a known and annoying manner, womanhood pulsating with each new sound. It doesn't help how your filthy encounters had been becoming less frequent, the prince growing too busy with the war, and often you would feel bothered and insatiable.

It's unconscious the way you start rubbing on him, trying to relieve the ache you feel, and you do not realize what you are doing until he grips your thigh, halting your tentative movements at once.

"Stop teasing." He warns.

You stammer, a bit embarrassed. "I'm not, I–"

Suddenly you are pinned down by the prince, your positions switched as you utter your confusion by the suddenness. You should've been used to his strength and fast reflexes by now. "Do you deem your behavior acceptable?"

You swallow, trying not to smile, and feign innocence. "I have no clue what you are talking about."

"Oh, yes? You are unaware you were rubbing yourself on me like a bitch in heat?"

"I would never do that, my Prince."

"You would never…?" He chuckles, feeling amused.

"During my work? No." You shake your head in denial.

"So, if I touch your cunt right now, you would not be wet?" He cocks his head.

You bite your lips. "Not at all."

"Forgive me for not believing your words, but I shall need proof." Aemond's hand sneaks under your dress, fingers moving slowly from your shin to your thigh, his eye never leaving yours, daring.

You giggle when his finger parts your folds, rubbing the dampness between your legs. You buck your hips, in need of more friction.

"Liar." Aemond disregards with a click of his tongue, his pupil blown out as he circles your bud.

"Aemond." You gasp, eyes closing.

"Do you think you deserve it?"

"Yes, I've been taking care of you so well..." You try to negotiate.

"But I deserve so much more attention, don't you agree?" He kisses and licks your collarbone, finger never faltering, teasing.

"More?" Your breath is labored, and your voice is weak. His hand leaves your heat.

"I have killed a whole other dragon. It is not frequently one can say it. Yes, I believe I am due special treatment." He faces you again.

"I see," You grin. "You want me to do all the work?" Your lips brush his. "Such an idle prince." You provoke.

"Watch your mouth," He warns, pecking you. "I am merely tired. It's been eventful."

"Conveniently for you, I am feeling generous today." Your hands trail his bare waist.

"You are?" He smirks, nose touching yours.

"Uh-huh, and very happy you are unscathed."

"Show me, then," Aemond kisses your jaw. "Just how grateful you are."

The kiss you share is lecherous, wet, and rushed. Aemond does not fight you as you flip your bodies over and climb onto his lap, an evident bulge in the thin trousers that contours all of his cock tantalizingly. Even the clothed friction makes you both shudder, and you gather all of your strength to not start instantly grinding on his shaft.

You pull his trousers down, and his manhood springs free. Big, thick, veiny. Dripping coconut oil on your hands, you rub them together. Aemond wets his lips in anticipation.

Your hand slides through his length with no difficulty with the help of the oil, and the smell of it is delicious. You start jerking him off, and the prince hums in satisfaction.

Aemond wasn't the most vocal in bed, you realized it soon into your affair, but with time you had discovered the exceptions, the things that would make him forget all about his inhibitions and scream in pleasure.

After stroking him for a while, you cup one of your hands, very slowly circling his tip with the palm of your oily hand, fingertips dragging up and down his length while you do so. Aemond breathes sharply, his stomach twitching.

"Seven hells, love." He mutters with a tight hold on the sheets due to his sensitivity. You smile.

You focus on your fingertips, running them up and down his shaft lightly. Aemond adored the delicacy of the movement, the gentle yet torturous pressure, promising and unforgiving, kind and cruel. Then you circle his head again, again, and again. Careful to not hurt him. Aemond grunts, his eyebrows pinching together and face completely flushed as he bites his lips harshly, trying to hold back his moans, but you know it won't last long.

"Stop, it 's too much." He whines, but the delighted sound that escapes his mouth tells you to do anything but, his body trembling.

"Aw," You coo mockingly. "We know you can take it, my Prince."

You add more oil to your hands, holding his length and rotating your wrist as your palm rubs over his tip and shaft over and over. He completely let go as he closes his eye, his grunts being replaced by enchanting high-pitched and broken moans. It's quite pathetic the sight of him, the mighty and fearsome prince so supple on your hands, forehead glistening with sweat and breath erratic. Anyone outside could hear him.

"My love, please." He begs in the middle of whimpers, all of his body hair stirred up.

"Please what, my dear?" You ask innocently.

Aemond squirms. "I need to come," He gasps. "Please, please, please."

"Since you asked so nicely…"

You change the movement, keeping it only on his sensitive head, your other hand squeezing his balls. His voice gets louder, face twisted in pleasure as a tear falls down his gorgeous face, violet iris shining bright. You can feel your cunt soaked and throbbing achingly with the view.

He comes in a silent scream, hips bucking as hot loads of his spend fall into your hand and his shaft. You spread some of it around his length, still jerking him off as you help him ride out of his peak, the prince's body spasming.

"That's it," You praise him. "Good boy."

Aemond's breath is heavy as you find his lips, and he struggles to follow your pace, but he tries anyway, messy and urging. "Now you are going to be even nicer and let me use your cock, won't you?" You whisper.

His eye is lidded as he stares at you and nods, and you cannot resist the urge to press two sticky fingers to his curved lips, Aemond opens his mouth with no resistance, licking your hand clean. He's so compliant, somehow still lost in the void between the extraordinary bliss and the present moment.

"Anything for you." He mutters.

You grin. "That is what I like to hear."

Even if not necessarily frequent, happening mostly when he was worn-out or glum, it was rather obvious how letting someone of your position have control over him in bed, one of the very few situations in which you could be so blunt and disrespectful to a high-born, aroused the prince more than he would ever admit, a time in which he could forget about his obligations and just be good to you.

It doesn't take long into your kissing until you can feel him growing hard again, hands eagerly grabbing the hem of your dark red dress and pulling it up around your waist.

"Stupid dress." He complains in between lustful kisses, struggling to get rid of the clothing.

You laugh and help him take it off, throwing your apron and the dress somewhere around his quarters. Aemond instantly latches onto your right breast once you are fully naked, tongue hot and wet twirling around your nipple, and making you shiver and mewl as he sucks it into his mouth as if he is starved, your hand pulling at his braided hair.

Too impatient and greedy, you push him back on the mattress, positioning his member on your wet and tight entrance before lowering yourself down on it. You both moan at the stretch. It is spellbinding the way he watches you on top of him, making you feel like the most desired person in existence, his hands on your hips tightly.

You feel so full and excited you could almost see stars, the position has always been one of your favorites, his cock being able to reach just the right spots in this way.

"Seven, you feel perfect inside me." You gasp, grinding back and forward, your lungs clenching with the sudden and powerful wave of pleasure, so strong it is maddening.

Aemond growls, his body jolting with the motion. "You are a fucking witch, woman."

"For knowing exactly how to deal with you? I might as well be." You grin viciously, your hands resting on his chest.

Your eyes close as you rock your hips slowly and sensually, strained moans already leaving your mouth, and your bud brushing over his pubic bone makes you tremble. It's doubtless the best sensation you have ever felt, his cock dragging against your walls marvelously.

"Fuck, you fit me so well," You say out of breath, fastening your grinding. "Always so good for me, aren't you?"

You lean over slightly, pressing yourself more to him as you begin to bounce on his cock restlessly, the sinful noises echoing in the chamber only increasing your pleasure.

Aemond whimpers, both by the change of the movement and your words. "Always good for you, my love." He repeats, choking out.

Aemond's hands come to grip your ass desperately, certainly to leave bruises later, but now it's nothing but motivating for you.

He suddenly sits you both up, mouth finding one of your breasts again, saliva coating it as he plays with your nipple with tongue and teeth with no care. The sensitivity makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. Delightful yet torturous whimpers on your lips as you continue to ride him mercilessly.

Sweat covers almost all of your body, and you feel as if you were burning from the inside out, the prince not looking any different, his cheeks and nose terribly reddened. You don't even care about the slight throbbing of your legs getting tired, or for the man you were fucking anymore, simply focused on the building of that rapture that feels so close yet so far. Your hold on his shoulders is firm beyond pleasant, but you assume his mind is elsewhere, and not in how your nails are breaking his pale skin.

You needed this badly and you knew you wouldn't last long. The knot inside you tightens hazardously, and you furrow your eyebrows, your bouncing getting even more frenetic. However, as good as it feels, you are growing overwhelmed as you ache for a release that's taking too long to come, somewhat stuck in a sadic joy. You whine out of glee and anticipation, too fucking eager.

"Don't stop, love," Aemond says with a groan, letting go of your breast with a pop to give attention to the other, his sucking sloppy as you pull at his hair harshly. You moan.

Not even in a thousand years you would dare to. When the long-awaited white-hot pleasure slams your body, you feel like ascending to the seven heavens itself. It's astoundingly overpowering at first and then diminishes in ripples as your heart drums painfully inside your chest, cunt fluttering around his member.

Your breath is heavy as you slow down, shivering and a little weary. Aemond moans while watching you come on his cock, and fortunately, he seems disposed to help you as he lays down again, bringing your body flush against his. He seems very roused as he impales you with his cock from beneath, growling into your ears while his hands squeeze your ass possessively.

You whine due to overstimulation, his thrusts are relentless, and the squelching sounds more prominent with how much you soaked his cock not too long ago. You are unsure if you want him to finish already or just keep using your cunt as he wishes regardless of your comfort, and the sheer thought of it inflames you.

It's surprising how fast it comes back, that burning and expectation in your lower stomach, apparently even stronger now. All that was not him and his cock in your womanhood is long forgotten. Blood rushes hot in your veins, high-pitched mewls and low grunts blending.

"By the Seven, Aemond." You hide your face in the crook of his neck, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth.

"Can you give me another one?" Aemond pounds into you harder, the smell of the shea butter and coconut oil from earlier consuming you. "I want to give you another one, beauty. I want to make you feel exceptionally good, yes?"

You try to respond to him but you just babble, teeth biting into the conjecture of his neck and shoulder, painting it red and purple, too dumbfounded to think or to measure your strength. But it seems your bites only incite the silver-haired more, his shoves faster and his groans broken.

One of his hands circles your waist securely to lock you in place, no falter in his thrusts. The wave of elation that suddenly crashes down over you is potent, numbing all your senses for a few seconds, but you are certain you must be screaming as you squirm. Your legs shake tremendously and your eyelids feel heavier.

Your second peak and the clenching of your cunt send Aemond over the edge. He bucks his hips, stilling inside you as he comes with a prolonged and deep grunt, head tilted back and lips parted. You didn't know what good action guaranteed you the privilege to see such a beautiful thing. Getting off him as he tries to regain his breath, a good amount of his warm seed drips in between your thighs, walls spinning as you feel quite faint.

Your back hits the fluffy mattress, your heart pounding in your ears and black dots cover your vision, which is slightly blurry. Shutting your eyes, you could not say how much time has passed as you recompose yourself and wait for your skin to cool down, but when you do, you are shocked to see the prince already soundly asleep next to you, mouth hung open as exhaustion had finally caught up to him after the latest events and your passionate indulgence.

Chuckling, you roll to your side as you watch him, his expression for once serene and breath even. You trace your finger gently across his straight eyebrow while appreciating the details of his face. The concern comes back to torment you as you wonder what the future has reserved for him, but you try to brush it off. You could only pray for his safety.

You recall the first time you saw him sleeping, it was quite unnerving, only the sapphire shining brightly while his good eye rested, but now the gemstone staring back at you was not only usual but comforting, a unique and enchanting charm in your opinion.

After getting up, you grab a cloth to clean the two of you, and although with a drowsy complaint from him, you manage to tuck the one-eyed in warm sheets. You put on your servant robes again and organize the mess you could deal with at the moment, gathering his armor as quietly as you can to be cleaned later. Pecking his pinkish lips slowly, you exit his quarters, feeling completely satisfied.

TAGS: @godrakin @m1ndbrand ♡⋆˙

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x you #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd fanfic

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aquidragon · 2 years ago

Text

Compulsory

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4902

Summary: There was no one you hated more than your ex-boyfriend Leon Kennedy, however, until he appears in your office after a long mission that changed everything.

Content Warning(s): smoking, reference to drinking, refrence to drugs, nsfw content, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!)

(this is my magnum opus, I can die now)

---

You weren’t sure if there was anyone you hated more than you despised Leon Scott Kennedy. Even if you searched in the farthest corners of the universe, it would be hard for any living thing to somehow beat the burning, red-hot hatred that burned deep in your heart.

You also hated that there was no one else in the infinite galaxy that you could love more than you loved Leon. His presence was like a drug, pulsing throughout your entire body, fueling you with aphrodisiac. Your nerves tingled at the thought of him, the hair on your neck stood on end in remembrance of his warm touch on your bare skin. The scent of sandalwood, refined whiskey, and rust haunted your senses.

You couldn’t get enough, you craved him again, you wanted to feel him rushing through your veins again. You needed him to feel alive. The burning desire to be dependent on him again weighed heavily in your mind, your body and your soul. It was why you loathed him, why you never wanted to see his alluring, mysterious frozen ocean eyes again.

Leon had shattered every effective piece of your heart when he walked away, when you demanded him to stay. It had been a cold, stormy night, your clothes were soaked to your bones as you screamed at him. Hot tears streaked down your cheeks, mixing with the freezing droplets that fell from the heavens. His eyes held the same empty, hollow walls that you had fought so hard to tear down. You had reached into the abyss of his mind, every secret, every memory, every emotion that he felt was once at your fingertips.

Before you could grab a hold, you were forced out by a violent tsunami. Sealing away what was once yours, for what you assumed to be forever. Leon Scott Kennedy became a mystery to you once again, a stranger whom you never knew. You thought you had known him once, as well as he knew you, but you were wrong.

You saw him sometimes, walking the narrow hallways of the DSO building, in between assignments. His blonde hair and square shoulders lingered in the corner of your vision like a ghost. Occasionally, you’d catch cyan in your sight, as you briefly met his eyes. For seconds, you remembered when you were his, before it all crashed down to Earth. You’d tear your head away, cramming yourself in your work, unable to look at him any longer. You couldn’t bear the thought of him, a hot knife that tore through your chest, slicing you open; it made you vulnerable. Leon made you feel weak, powerless, similar to a deer caught in headlights. You hated him. You hated your own weakness.

You even had asked to be reassigned to a new agent, within the Field Operations Support, which you had been granted. Not many people within the DSO knew about your complicated relationship history with Leon, most people assumed you were just best friends who had a falling out. Sometimes, you wished that they were correct. It would’ve saved you years of heartache if the nature of your relationship with your former lover remained platonic. If the intimacy you had shared with the blonde agent continued at a surface level, far above the trench that pulled you both down deeper.

Maybe, you wouldn’t have drowned.

“Hey, did you hear about Kennedy's status?” The question that was directed at you felt muffled, your ears were underwater. You blinked, as reality set back in, and you turned to face your co-worker. Her perfect teeth peeked through her rouge-painted lips in a wide, ecstatic smile.

“Kennedy? He’s not in my detail anymore, remember?” You grumbled, finishing off the rest of your water bottle. “Why?” Ingrid Hunnigan was one of the few people who you told about your former relationship with Leon, who she often updated you about, much to your personal dismay.

“He successfully extracted Miss Graham, they’re landing back in the states in thirty.” She practically cheered, taking a celebratory sip from her hours-old fast food soda. “The president is thrilled, I hope that means a pay increase.” Hunnigan sang her excitement, as Leon’s direct communication agent, his accomplishment reflected well onto her.

“Congratulations, you deserve it.” You smiled at her, as you suddenly craved a cigarette.

Her excitement began to ebb away as she rested a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I know that talking about Leo-,” she hesitated, “-Kennedy isn’t easy for you.”

You chuckled, humorlessly, shaking your head. “I know this is a big deal for you, don’t sweat it. I’m fine.” You licked your lips, wishing you hadn’t finished your water. “You deserve a massive promotion, honestly.” You shut off your headset, stretching your arms over your head with a satisfied groan. “I’m going to have a smoke, I’ll be back.”

It was perfectly cool outside, you brought the paper stick to your lips, before beginning to light the white end of it. You had supposedly stopped smoking a year ago, alongside Leon, after creating a pact to quit. After you broke up, and an emotional breakdown at a bar, you gave into the compulsion. The hot, foul-smelling smoke fueled your lungs as you inhaled, and your built up frustrations rushed out with your exhale. “Shit,” you mumbled softly as you watched a familiar, private helicopter grace the horizon. You decided this warranted another puff from your cigarette, before stomping the butt into the pavement.

Although you were no longer one of Leon’s agents, Operation Baby Eagle required almost every Field Operations agent to be on deck. You had attempted to call in sick, but your impending rent payment had other plans. While you didn’t have any direct impact on the mission, you were still required to visually confirm Leon Kennedy and Ashley Graham’s safe return from Spain.

You were grateful you didn’t have to verbally confirm with them, at the very least. With a longingly sigh, you walk back inside the building, to get ready to head to the airstrip. You stand beside Ingrid, alongside the president and a large party of other people you didn’t know to welcome Ashley and her rescuer. You tapped your foot, impatient, and perhaps a little anxious as you watched the helicopter slowly lower to the ground. The wind whipped up from the spinning blades causes your hair to loosen from the hairstyle you chose to wear it in, as dust gets into your eyes.

Within seconds, the aircraft’s blades slow to a stop, and the doors open. Leon exits first, his perfectly cut hair frames his angular face perfectly, his eyebrows remain in their permanent, serious position. You almost scoff at his overly stoic appearance, but you decided that that wouldn’t be very professional to do, feet away from the President of the United States. Ashley follows after her rescuer quickly, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, but her face lights up in a smile at the sight of her parents. Without a moment of hesitation, she rushes into the waiting arms of her father, sobbing as they embrace her.

You crack a smile at the sight, while Hunnigan is almost in tears. Your gaze shifts back to the blonde agent, who stands at attention a few feet away from you. Leon’s eyes are as distant as they always are, a solid cold blue, resembling ice. For a moment, you swore those same eyes met yours, but you weren’t sure. “Thank you, agent Kennedy, for bringing back my daughter safely. I’m forever indebted to you.” President Graham’s words are professional, while warm at the same time.

“Anytime, Mr. President.” Leon responded, in a mostly friendly manner. You can tell that he was exhausted, based on the heavy ring of purple that underlined his eyes, as well as the subtle sag of his shoulders. A large, loud part of you wanted to rush over, wrap your arms around him to take care of him. Like you would have if you were here, a couple months ago.

Ashley freed herself from her mother’s embrace, looking up at Leon with watery eyes, a grateful smile gracing her youthfully pretty face. “Thank you, Leon.” She hugged him, her arms wrapping underneath his arms, as she buried her face deeply into his chest.

“Take care, Ashley.” The blonde agent cracked a smile, returning her hug briefly. His head lifted to meet your eyes, and his smile fades. A pathetic, sad looking expression formed on his face, you smile anxiously, more akin to a grimace.

“We can talk more about paperwork and such tomorrow. Tonight, all of you go home. Get some rest, you deserve it.” Graham orders, his stern facade returning. “Good work, thank you.”

The crowd began to disperse, you yawn, as you walked back inside the building. You step into your office, as you begin to pack your stuff together, mentally noting a thanks to the president for gracing you with the ability to go home early. As you slid your bulky laptop into your work messenger bag, your door creaked open. “Hunnigan, I’m going home, we can go to Cowboy’s Tavern tomorrow. I’m fucking exhaust-” you look up, finally, and met the stormy blue eyes of Leon Scott Kennedy.

“What the fuck are you doing in here, Kennedy?” You spat out his name like venom, as your heart faltered. You felt sick, as he shut the door behind him, his expression unreadable. “I’m pretty sure I remember that you made it clear you didn’t want to see me again. Ever.” You avoid looking at him, choosing to focus on the task at hand; gathering your stuff. “I thought we were in agreement there.”

He tiredly mumbled your name, standing a foot away from you, on the opposite end of your desk. “I know what I said, just please, hear me out.” Leon’s voice is weak, raspy, as if he hadn’t had water in days. He pleaded your name, finally forcing you to look up at him, apprehension burning through your head.

For once, in months, the frozen walls of his soul were gone. Leaving his blue eyes open, desperate, all of his feelings pouring out of his soul like a cascade. Your eyes widened, as your mouth fell open. In the brief time you spent with him, you had never seen him cry. Until that moment, in your office, standing before you with wet salty tears carved through the collected dirt on his face. His hands grabbed onto the oak surface of your desk tightly, you were sure that the wood would splinter underneath his touch.

“I know you don’t want to see me, or talk to me. I broke your heart and I deserve it.” Leon blurted, reaching out to grab one of your hands. Instinctively, you flinched, but you didn’t pull your hand away. You let him hold it, as he leaned over your desk. “I just needed to see you, I needed to know that you’re okay.”

You blinked, thoroughly confused. “Leon, I,” you cleared your throat, “where is this coming from?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows. “We haven’t spoken in almost a year, now you come back into my office like this? What happened?” Your heart pounded wildly against your chest, like a caged bird, desperate to fly free. You felt nauseous, as your stomach churned and your thoughts spun violently.

“I almost lost myself,” Leon admitted, vaguely. “They infected me, I couldn’t-” he paused, inhaling deeply. “The only thing that kept me together was you, thinking about you.” The blonde exhaled through his nostrils, in a strange laugh. “I realized I couldn’t live without you, I thought I was protecting you, but I put everyone in danger instead.”

You studied his expression, swallowing the ball that had wadded in your throat nervously. His handsome face morphed in multiple expressions; desperation, fear, grief, and pain. It looked like he was in agony, as his large, calloused hand tightened over your smaller one. “What are you talking about?” You stammered, you felt breathless. “Leon, please tell me.”

“In Spain, Ashley and I were infected by Las Plagas, a parasite, similar to a virus.” He strained his words, struggling to get them out. “It allowed us to be controlled by an outside force, fuck, it felt like I was on fire. I thought I was going to die.”

You opened your mouth, but you were at a loss of words. Instead, you allowed him to get closer, as you pressed your lips against his temple. You allowed your hatred towards him to be silenced, for a moment, to comfort him. To provide sanctuary to his tormented mind, to allow the part of you that still loved him to shine though. “You’re okay now, I promise.” You whispered, scooting to sit on your desk, gently petting his back. Your fingers trailing over the bumps of his spine, as his damp forehead pressed against yours.

As always, his skin radiated heat, as your bodies sat magnetized closer together. Your positives were drawn to his negatives, as your hearts fused together in an electrifying sense. You shut your eyes, as the same thrilling sparks that you craved for so long echoed underneath your flesh. His soft sobs evened out, as he pulled away from you, breathing heavily. Your name was rough, yet gentle on his tongue. His warm hands trailed over the curve of your waist, before coming up to cup your face.

“I never meant to hurt you.” Leon’s voice was like broken glass, as his thumb traced the skin below your eyes. “I thought if you hated me, loathed me, you would be safer. I didn’t think I needed you.” He trailed his lips against your forehead, before planting a kiss between your eyes. “God, I was wrong, please, forgive me.”

You straightened up on your desk, even from your position, sitting on the desk, he still towered over you. His body leaned over yours, as he held himself up, with both of his hands holding the end of the wooden oak. You felt him pull away, afraid that he had done something wrong, thinking that he had angered you more. For less than a heartbeat, you wanted to scream at him, for breaking you apart. However, the longing desire for the man that you loved so much to be yours again, even for a moment, washed away the hatred you had felt for him.

Against your better judgment, you pressed your lips against his mouth. Leon’s pale rosy lips were chapped, and your nerves smoldered with him. Your lungs inhaled the scent of sweat and blood. As he returned your kiss, feverishly, you could taste the metallic indication of blood in his saliva. One of his hands pressed against your cheek bone, as he desperately tried to get closer to you. Your own palms traced over the firm muscles underneath his thin, stretchy, shirt.

He was almost overloading your senses, in the same way that he always did. You felt like you were going to collapse, as you steaded yourself with a hand by your hip. The other hand, found itself in his filthy ash-blonde hair, you didn’t care. You didn’t think you’d even care if he was covered head to toe in blood and rotten flesh. You missed him. You wanted him. You needed him. You wanted him to take over you, to melt into your body and permanently become a part of you.

As your lungs burned for oxygen, Leon’s mouth left yours, breathing heavily. “You’ve been smoking again.” He commented gruffly, trying to catch his own breath.

You huffed, in a hint of a laugh. “Got a problem with that?” You gasped as his lips pressed against your neck, effectively knocking you backwards. The curve of your spine rested against the uncomfortable oak surface, but you didn’t notice. Your nerves sparked wildly from Leon’s touch, as his chest leaned against yours.

“I thought I taught you better than that, sweetheart.” He murmured lowly against the shell of your ear. You hadn’t heard him call you that in what felt like decades, which made electricity shoot through your body, making you almost giggle with delight.

“Well,” you breathed, “you haven’t exactly been able to keep me on track.” You wheezed as he rested his body weight on one of his arms to use his spare hand to drift over your curves. His pupils dilated, and his breath heavy against your face.

“You don’t think I’ve kept my eye on you, do you?” The blonde asked, almost patronizing you. “I know what you’ve been up to. I know what bars you’ve gone to every weekend, I know you drink yourself into oblivion every night.” He groaned, his teeth softly scraped against the tender skin on your neck. “If only you knew that, I ached for you every single time I thought about you.”

The thought of him watching you, from the shadows, when you weren’t paying attention made your brain spin with delight. You moaned as your fingers dug into his scalp, as he nipped at the flesh that joined your neck to your collarbone. “It almost hurt, y’know, that I couldn’t call you mine when I saw you with other people.” Leon pulled his face away from your body, looking down at you with blown, ocean eyes.

“Be mine, again.”

You exhaled sharply, as his gaze burned into yours. As he waited for your permission to go ahead, to continue what you both had started. Without a second thought, you yanked his hair down so he’d kiss you, in a passionate clash of your lips. He grunted in surprise, but quickly recovered as he melted into your mouth. Leon Kennedy was yours again.

As you kissed, your hands trailed down to his rough, black jeans, his erection strained against the thick fabric. You smirked against his lips as you fumbled with his leather belt buckle, before toying with the smooth button. He hissed once you freed his solid boner from his pants, as he squeezed your thighs in delight. “I almost forgot how beautiful you are, baby.” Leon panted, carnally, quickly tearing your work blouse over your shoulders. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He buried his nose between your breasts, inhaling your scent deeply.

You whimpered as his wet tongue traced the outline of your skin, over your bra, as his hands squeezed your biceps. “Jesus, fuck Leon, take off my bra.” You grumbled, desperate.

He gave you a wolfish grin, “your wish is my command.” Without another word, his teeth snagged the center of your bra, as his hands went undeath you to unclasp the back. Once the clasp was undone, he pulled the garment away from you with his teeth, before tossing it in an unknown direction in your tiny office. Goosebumps puckered across your skin as your sensitive nipples were exposed to the cool air, you shivered in delight.

Wordlessly, Leon climbed off of you to crouch at the end of the desk, his head between your feet. You sat up, confused, ready to ask him if he was done; before he used a firm hand to lay you back down. “Take off your pants and panties. Now.”

The commanding, desperate tone of his voice made your brain spin and heat pool between your legs. Without a single complaint, you yanked off your dress pants and panties. You made sure to aim the lacy undergarment at your partner’s head, who caught it with ease. Amused, he studied the fabric, before flinging it back to you. “Familiar.” Leon teased, before pulling your lower half over the edge of the desk.

You yelped as papers scattered onto the floor, as he held onto your ankles. Like a starving man, he buried his head in between your thighs, the hair on his head tickling your skin as his breath rushed against your swollen clit. “Oh Jesus Christ,” you groaned, as your head tilted backwards. Leon littered biting kisses alongside the underside of your upper thighs, looking up at you with half-lidded, smug eyes, before pressing a firm kiss against your sensitive bud.

You hissed in pleasure, as your toes curled inside your shoes. Your entire body flinched at the sudden, yet familiar feeling, as sparks began to echo from your pelvis. “I missed this, I missed you.” Leon murmured against your cunt as he dragged his tongue up the slit. You squeaked, adjusting to the sudden intrusion. “You taste as good as I remembered, sweetness.” Two of his fingers slipped inside you as his lips remained on your clit. You arched your back, giving him easier access as he devoured you. Your hips jerked as your moans grew in pitch, your muscles clenched tighter with every flick of his tongue and thrust of his fingers.

You cursed him and his ability to absolutely consume pussy. You almost thought he was attempting to eat you alive. You fruitlessly tried to grab onto something, to steady yourself, but all you could manage was crumpled up paper (that you hoped weren’t important) and sliding your fingers across the smooth surface of your desk. “Fuck! Leon!” You moaned as he curled his fingers against the sweet spot inside you, with ease.

Without intending to, the tightening sensation inside you suddenly snapped. You gasped, as white, blue and black sparked through your vision as you felt every nerve in your body explode. Like fireworks, scattered underneath your heated skin. Your jaw fell open as you grabbed ahold of Leon’s hair to steady yourself, making him hiss delightfully. He didn’t stop, instead, he continued to finger you as you rode out your orgasm. Monster.

As your high began to fade away, Leon pulled away from your soaked pussy. Covered in your own juices and his salvia. You could see the cocktail of his actions across the lower half of his face, reflecting the orange light of the sunset outside your window. You panted heavily, your arm resting on your damp forehead as he looked down at you, affectionately.

“Do you want to continue?” He asked, with a charming, gentle question. His lips pressing against your cheek, fingers filing through strands of your hair. You nodded, rapidly, as desire began to build back up throughout your body.

“Please,”

Leon grinned at you, before standing back up to completely undo his belt and pants. With an effortless move, he stripped his combat pants away, alongside his boxers. His dick was delightfully curved and thick. You had to force your eyes away from staring. Gently, he pulled your hips against his pelvis, as he stood at the end of the desk. He pressed the head of his erection against your prepared hole, and looked down at you.

You nodded encouragingly, with a smile, as he began to push himself inside you. You both gasped at the sensation, it felt familiar yet foreign at the same time. Leon let out a breathless moan, as he adjusted to the feeling of your heat around his dick. “Fuck,” he breathed out your name like a prayer, “you feel so good.” Without a second thought, he began to thrust inside you, as he began to rush through your veins.

Your body thrilled at the sensation of Leon Kennedy rushing through your skin again, you felt him inside every fiber of your being. Like a drug, an aphrodisiac, you could never get enough of it. You moaned out his name, as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer to you. His forehead pressed against yours as your lips parted, looking into your lust hazed eyes. He groaned his desires to you, as his hands grabbed onto your hips tighter, nails digging into your plush flesh.

You didn’t just need him, he needed you too. In a knotted twist of fate that ensured that you could never live without him. You knew it meant the same to him as well, of course, as he pressed wanton kisses to the side of your face, whispering the words you loved to hear against your ear. You had never truly hated him, you realized, much to your own personal disdain. You had always loved him, even when you had denied it.

“I love you,” Leon moaned against your skin, in a raspy voice. “I always have, and I always will.”

You almost laughed in joy, but instead, you simply responded as breathlessly as he did, “I love you too.”

With a grunt, he came inside you, his hips pressed against yours, without an inch to spare between your bodies. With a wheezy chuckle, he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily as he emptied himself deep within you. You pressed a kiss to his temple, soothingly stroking his hair as he came back down to Earth.

You assured yourself for as long as you lived, you would always be the person who knew Leon Kennedy better than you knew yourself. He would know you better than anyone as well, forever bound by the allure that drew you closer together. You weren’t sure if you believed in soulmates, but you knew damn well that there was no one else in the universe who you loved more than him.

---

reblogs greatly encouraged and appreciated. Thanks for reading!

#resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennendy angst #re4r #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy

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airxn · 1 year ago

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Protecting Yourself from Fetish Mining.

The rise in fetish mining anons has become horrifically rampant over the past year in RPC. Unfortunately, many folks have fallen victim to them due to the nature of fetish miners. The purpose of this PSA is to aid in spotting fetish mining anons within the Tumblr RPC.

Before I continue, please proceed with caution as this topic is adult themed but is a PSA for everyone. I will not go into detail about any fetishes. To learn more about general fetish mining, and what to look out for, check out this detailed PSA by BeckiiCruel, and this PSA about fetish mining within the art community by BluSilurus.

What is Fetish Mining?

Fetish mining, within the Tumblr RPC, is the soliciting of fetish content through Tumblr's inbox via anonymous asks. These asks are sent without the receiver knowing their true purpose and without their informed consent.

People are allowed to have fetishes, but fetish miners thrive off their victims being unassuming and unable to give informed consent. Fetish mining is a nonconsensual fetish and exploits their victims into giving them fetish content.

What to Look For.

Fetish miners within the Tumblr RPC use the anonymous inbox feature to conceal their identity, evade accountability for their actions, and come off as nonthreatening. They'll most likely come off as playful and exploit the fun in receiving anonymous asks within the RPC.

Fetish miners prefer targeting SFW blogs over NSFW ones. Why? Fetish miners want to claim their asks are not of fetishistic nature and to deny the receiver consent. They rely on plausible deniability in order to continue sending asks to their victims.

Please note that anything can be a fetish. Fetish mining asks will appear as innocent as possible to trick unassuming victims into giving them fetish content. They can also be super subtle or extremely obvious. Here are a few behaviors and examples of what to look for:

– Persistent or fixated on the same topic, action, request, or question over an over again. – Pressuring the receiver to answer the ask/s in a playful manner. – Pulling or stomping on a muse's tail, limb, hair, etc. – Putting your muse in a scenario where they're stuck in something. – Transforming your muse into an object, creature, or adding new features. – Cloning a muse repeatedly over several asks. – Feeding a muse over several asks. – Tickling a muse over several asks. – Fixating on muse's underwear, shoes, or other specific garments. – Wanting a scenario of a muse's scent or smell in detail. – Any kind of bathroom talk, including the discussion of diapers, the sender wetting themselves, discussion of any bodily fluid, and so forth. – Giving a muse a kind of potion, magic etc, that will force the muse into their desired effect ( changing their size, making them pregnant, expanding or shrinking certain body parts, laughing fits, the muse becomes lustful, or anything listed above, etc. ). – Super detailed scenarios featuring any of the listed topics that is without any plotting or context. – And much more as anything can be a fetish.

All instances above have been reported in the RPC throughout the years. Here is a Google document with current records given by victims. Please take a look to see real examples of fetish mining. You are free to submit your own instances if you have the victims consent. Instructions on how to do so are in the document.

How to Protect Yourself.

If an ask feels off to you, trust your gut. You do not need to answer every ask that comes into your inbox. If you're still uncertain check with trusted friends, or cross check the Google document listed above. Block any anon that makes you feel off, uneasy, or unsafe. Set your own boundaries, but be warned, fetish miners will not respect them if you leave them unblocked.

If you feel you must answer the ask, take a screenshot, block the anon, and then put the screenshot and your answer in a seperate post. Remember anons must be a member of the tumblr community. Unless they have another account, blocking them will keep you safe from further fetish mining attempts.

If you think someone is being fetish mined please reach out to them and inform them. Victims rarely realize they're nonconsensually playing into someone's fetish. Victims should not be shamed or told they should know better. Stay vigilant and stay safe. Look out for your fellow rper if you see anything that could be fetish mining.

#PSA.#PSA #tumblr rpc #rpc #ok to reblog.

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minispidey · 10 months ago

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02: Barbie's Dreamhouse.

Joel Miller x f!bimbo!reader. previous. series masterlist. next.

02. Strawberry Lemonade.

warnings: reader stares at joel a lot and finds him hot as hell, reader is dramatic as hell (might be annoying to some), explicit thoughts, suggestive, sarah is alive and 12 years old here, reader thinks she's a homewrecker, not beta read.

summary: you just can't help but gawk at your hot contractor who's working for free, thank god the view is free too. but a revelation makes you question if you're lusting for a married man.

reader's outfit is the blue one of the dolls from the barbie movie (this one under)

You had settled on the couch on the second-floor balcony with a glass and pitcher of cold lemonade and a few snacks, while Joel was up on the roof, using a ladder to climb up to the edges.

There was no mistaking his experience— he made little noise at all, moving around the structure as if it were just another Tuesday. Despite his hardass appearance, he was a very skilled worker.

He eventually climbed down from the roof and headed inside, taking a second to catch his breath before spotting you upstairs.

He was immediately thrown off by the adorable dress— especially the heart detail. But he knew it was rude to stare, so he did his best to keep his eyes on yours.

"That… was actually a lot quicker than I thought it would be," Joel said, clearly pleased. "I should have the rest of the replacement shingles put on in no time at all…"

"Are they pink?" you giggled.

"They're white but I painted over the roof last time, I'll just paint over em' some other day."

"I got some snacks for us. I tested the fridge and it was working too." you poured him a glass of lemonade. "Here, cool off."

Joel took the drink. The cool liquid was very much appreciated after all of that hard work. He took a few swigs from his glass before he looked you over again.

"Thank you…" He nodded, clearly still unable to tear his eyes away from your dress. "Where'd you stay last night?"

"I found a nearby bed and breakfast beside a gasoline station. At least they didn't question why I was all dirty when I checked in." you giggled. "So, what's next?"

"Hmm… the plumbin'. I’m assuming it hasn’t been fixed." Joel's brow furrowed slightly. “The main shutoff doesn’t work very well, so if there’s a leak, you won’t be able to do anything about it. That’s pretty much a priority.”

"Oh, right. Um... so what do we do?"

"Well, we’ve got to find the shutoff for now," Joel said as he set his drink down. It was clear he hadn’t done much plumbing in his life, but from the times he had worked on it, it was also clear he was quite skillful when it came to repairs.

"Follow me. The main one should be in the basement, from what I remember."

"Alright! Lead the way."

You follow Joel as he headed down the stairs into the basement— it was pretty cluttered down there, with lots of old junk strewn around. As he made his way across the room to the back wall, he grabbed an old flashlight and turned it on.

"Hopefully, the shutoff valve ain't coated in any rust," he muttered. "But if it is, might be tougher than expected…"

Sure enough, he found the right valve, but it was covered in that awful orange rust and was completely stuck. He frowned as he studied it.

"Oh… that ain't good. This could be a problem…"

"Oh no... what do we do?"

He looked at you and shrugged.

"We could apply some WD-40 to it and hope that loosens it up. But that’s a long shot. In all honesty, I think we’re gon' need to hire a professional plumber to come in and see what can be done about this."

"Well, uh..." you trailed off. Joel watched as you fidgeted with your fingers as your body grew stiff.

Joel could tell that you were trying your best not to worry, but he really couldn’t come up with any alternative. As much as he hated to ask, he really didn’t think there was another way around it.

"I'll cover it. Don't worry."

"Thank you, Joel." you put your hands behind your back and smiled cheekily at him.

In the course of the next few weeks, Joel hired workers from an electrician to install the chandelier and fix the wiring, to plumbers to fix the plumbing issue. With his own money, nonetheless.

"Thank you, seriously, Joel..." You stared up at the pink jewels dangling off the chandelier in awe.

Joel chuckled softly and was about to respond, but he paused, realizing just how many times he’s heard those same words in just a few weeks.

"You don't have to thank me so much, you know. This was nothing"

"I mean, giving thanks is always a basic human thing." you smiled and placed both of your hands on your hips. "Appreciation can do amazing things."

There was another pause. He shrugged and smirked. "I mean… are you always this appreciative?" he asked, trying to hide his smile.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?"

"I dunno, I've just never known anyone who can be this appreciative, you know? It’s definitely not something I'm used to hearing…"

There was another pause as he was contemplating what to say.

"It’s just that… you're never gonna make me feel bad for it or anything, right?"

Your shoulders dropped and you tilted your head to the side. "Why would I?"

He sighed.

"I dunno. It's just that most people I know like to take advantage of or make me feel bad for what I do for them. You know, like always makin' me feel like I should do more just because I'm helpin' in the first place. But you don't ever act like that, and… well, I dunno. I guess I haven't been used to it."

"Why would they do such a thing?" you looked offended, furrowing your brows.

"I've always just been surrounded by assholes. I guess it's what's really normal for me. But with you… I mean, the difference is staggerin', isn't it? I guess I'm just now realizin' just how shitty most people that I've known actually are."

You smiled and walked towards him. "And how many people did you offer to fix their house for free?"

He laughed as he thought about it.

"Never before have I offered something like that. Usually, it's more like helpin' 'em fix their car or somethin' like that. So honestly, this is new territory for both of us. Though, even then, you're still much more appreciative than just about anyone I’ve ever come across."

"But I do promise," you held out your pinky finger with a wide smile. "I will pay you back soon."

For some reason, the pinky finger was funny to him. Maybe it was just that you were so genuinely innocent in your promise, or the contrast between how serious of a situation this could potentially be and you being so playful. He took your pinky finger and wrapped his own around yours. He looked you over.

"Do you swear? Because if you don't, there's about to be hell to pay. I take pinky promises quite seriously."

"That's so fun! I always keep my promises."

"I know you will. So this right here is a sign of a promise. And I trust that you will be able to keep that promise, so I don't need you to repay me right away."

"I promise. Cross my heart, hope to die."

He laughed and nodded, his smile growing as he squeezed slightly harder around your pinky. "Okay then. Just remember, you break this pinky promise, and I won't hesitate to let you know just how disappointed I am."

You let out a giggle after letting go of his pinky "Ooooh, I'm so scared."

He laughed as well.

"I think you should be! I'm not usually one to joke around when it comes to stuff like this." he chuckled again. "But just so you know, even though I'd be pretty angry, I really wouldn't have it in me to stay mad at you. You know that by now, right?"

"Why?" you batted your eyelashes at him "Is it because I'm preeeeetty?"

He was trying really hard to suppress his smile and hold back from laughing.

"It is indeed because I think you are pretty…. But I can't deny the fact that you've also become really good at pushin' out my buttons. Even if I really should be furious 'bout all the money I spent on this house, you make it tough not to just smile back at 'cha and forgive ya."

"I know, I'm sorryyyy..." you clasped your hands together and dramatically knelt down in front of him.

He chuckled. "Well, I really mean it. Your personality is one of the most refreshin' personalities I've ever come across in a long time. And I never would have even met you if it weren't for this house and Mags. That has to count for somethin', right?"

"Sentimental value?"

"Yeah, exactly. It's like the universe knew I needed someone like you in my life. Who knew a house could actually lead to a meaningful relationship… I definitely didn't see that comin'."

"The world works in mysterious ways." you shrugged. "Keep up, old man."

Joel laughed louder. There was something about you calling him an old man that he loved, even though he should be offended.

"Watch it, before you start makin' this old man feel his age. My body is just now startin' to fall apart on me, don't give it a reason to start fallin' apart faster than it already is!"

The both of you laughed. You got up from the floor and fixed your dress "So, is there anything else the house needs?"

Joel thought for a moment, finally coming to the realization that the house was probably good for now. It'd definitely need some more work on the interior in time, but at the least, it was liveable.

"Honestly? No, I don't believe there is. I think this house is good for now. I'll keep doin' my check-ins every few weeks or so to make sure that everythin' is alright with the house, but besides that, there's really nothin' more we need to do here."

"So..." you fiddled with your fingers. "What do we do now?"

Joel shrugged. "I'm not sure. I guess we just have ourselves a nice, long moment of standin' here and being proud of the fact that we've both survived the experience of trying to renovate this damn house. It’s a miracle either of us has our sanity still intact."

He laughed as he leaned up against the wall of the dining room.

"You know, you've spent a lot of time here. I've never even seen the inside of your house." you giggled.

"You know you're not wrong, I was here almost every day for weeks on end." his eyes trailed off as he thought and sighed. "I guess I should invite you over sometime then, right? It's not nearly as interesting as this house, but I'm sure you'd love it."

"My house is pink. Big deal." you rolled your eyes and walked towards him, leaning against the kitchen wall "You know every nook and cranny of my house, of course, I deserve to know yours."

"It's only fair."

"Indeed."

You kept staring at Joel. He had some beads of sweat falling from his scalp to his face, and god did he look hotter than hell. You felt like a Victorian lady seeing an ankle.

"Are you single-" your question got muffled by the sound of the doorbell, and turn your head towards the door "Coming!" you said.

You walked towards the door and swung it open, greeted by a young girl. "Hi, is my dad here?"

Your brows furrowed. "Dad?" who could possibly-

"Sarah," Joel said from behind you. Your head immediately snapped towards him and your eyes widened like a deer in headlights. "Have you met my daughter?" he asked you.

You blinked twice. "I-I don't think I have."

You really had no idea he even was a father... or even considered, married.

Sarah looked around the room in awe, her eyes trailing all across the furniture and her expression changing several times as she looked.

"Did you fix this house all by yourself?" she asked Joel, her eyes wide.

Joel cleared his throat and nodded. "Yeah. I rebuilt this whole house pretty much myself— minus the plumbin' and electrician work, which I had hired some guys for. We still have to go through planning on each room, but it's almost done." he pointed towards you. "She's still thinkin' about what to do with all these rooms."

Sarah's facial expression changed to a small smile as she giggled. She turned her head towards you. "Daddy tells me a lot about you. He says you're so nice. The nicest lady he's ever met. Was it all true?”

You were still in a shocked state but you shook your head a bit and gave her a smile. "Why don't you be the judge of that?"

"You're really pretty..." Sarah stared in awe at you.

"Hey, didn't you say you gotta pick up your Girl Scout cookies today?" Joel looked at his wristwatch. "We gotta hurry if you wanna start sellin' 'em tomorrow."

"Oh, right!"

Joel and Sarah waved goodbye to you as they walked out of your house, and you stood there on your porch questioning everything.

"He's... married?" you closed the front door and walked up the stairs, slowly and dramatically. You tried to think of the signs that he was married. Ring? You didn't even notice! Well, not counting the times you stared at his large fingers and imagined them inside of you...

"Oh, god..." the realization hit you. You entered the main bedroom and you fell to your knees. "I'm a homewrecker!" you cried out.

tags: @danaispunk @buckybarnessweetheart @skysmiller @joelsflannel @sweetenerobert @clownd1ck @jhiddles03 @schwytie @femmeanonymelives @redemie @pedropascal-whore @hello-shirousa @survivingandenduring @sk-e-le-ton-s @urbrazysimp @amyispxnk @clownd1ck @livingdeadmaria @joeldjarin @blood-suckerxoxo @reallylovereading

(tags are open! just reply to be added. reblogs are appreciated!)

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller au #x bimbo!reader #x bimbo reader

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m0thlegs · 2 months ago

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You can’t devour the souls of orphaned victorian children anymore. Because of woke.

(HEADCANONS UNDER CUT!! + sebaciel/proship DNI)

BONUS HEADCANONS I CAME UP WHILE DRAWING THIS!!

-Sebastian’s form isn’t always consistent. I recall someone saying that the black butler art style tends to slightly change with each new story arc and I thought it would be cool if this applied to Sebastian too. As if his form is completely unable to capture or recall in memory by any normal person, like if you met him in person and were suddenly asked to describe him - you wouldn’t be able to remember; and by the time you did, he would’ve already tweaked his appearance once more.

-In his true form, he doesn’t have any need for anatomical correctness since he can move regardless of anatomical logic. Instead of a normal human skeleton, he’s just a warped abundance of replicated bones clipping and weaving into one another, yet still moving smoothly. Sort of like an AI generated skeleton that only mimics the intricacy of detail without truly caring to pay attention to the vital information.

-Going back to the AI generated sort of shapeshifting, while his human form is still normal I imagine it would also have a sort of AI-generated feel to it. Like his face might be abnormally symmetrical or something, like he’s so INCREDIBLY close to human form but there’s something deeply wrong with him that you can’t quite put your finger on, like an AI generated human vessel or a hyperrealistic 3D model. His form walks a very fine tightrope between regular human form and the uncanny valley.

-goat eyes surround his true form to represent all the souls sacrificed for him and devoured by him

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 11 months ago

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It’s one in the morning let’s talk Six of Crows analysis - it feels like it’s been ages since I did any analysis, which is like the entire point of this account so sorry about that but here we go: We should talk more about Adem Bajan you guys okay because first of all he effectively comes to represent the vast majority of everyday people in a clear juxtaposition to both Inej and Van Eck, but he also is in a position of far less choice than I think we give him credit for.

As a reminder, Bajan is a young Suli boy (presumably somewhere around 19 but we have no confirmation of that) working in the Van Eck household teaching Alys music. He is highly implied to be having or to have interest in having as affair with Alys, and was Van Eck’s chosen jailer for Inej at the beginning of Crooked Kingdom. Van Eck claims he made this choice because he thought “a Suli boy would be most conspicuous” when he was attempting to lure Kaz into a trap to save Inej, but it was also an inarguably smart decision in that, as Inej even comments herself, Bajan was easy to talk to, made her feel nostalgic, homesick, and alone, and very nearly succeeded in drawing information out of her without having to restore to torture. If anything, resorting to torture was Van Eck’s major mistake at this point but that’s really a conversation for another time. Bajan is a really interesting character because he doesn’t want to hurt Inej and specifically encourages her to tell him things so Van Eck won’t escalate things further, but when Van Eck does escalate things Bajan is unable - or possibly unwilling - to stop him. For this Inej calls him a monster, and when he claims he did nothing replies “no, you’re the man who stands idly by congratulating himself whilst the monster eats its fill”. She draws a Suli phrase on him that effectively means he’ll be rejected by the community forever and his spirit/soul won’t be accepted, and she describes it as the worst fate or something along those lines sorry I can’t remember exactly. But what’s the most interesting thing is that even though he claims not to believe in any of it Bajan gets noticeably upset by this and says “that’s not fair”. Inej is surprised that he’s this soft, and there’s a very clear juxtaposition between the lives they have lived.

BUT - let’s look at this from Bajan’s perspective. And remember - this is important - Bajan is not described as an employee of Van Eck’s, but an indenture. An indenture. So Bajan is a young boy indentured in a foreign country to a man as high up in the country’s government as you can get and who has clearly been illustrated to the reader as a terrible person on several different levels that I won’t dissect in too much detail right now. He appears to have acclimatised himself to Kerch surroundings and acts with elevation above his status, because that’s what he has to do to survive in the upper echelon of a deeply classist society that actively diminishes and disapproves of his culture. (<<if anyone wants references for that let me know and also I’ve written about it quite a bit before so that’s kicking around on my page somewhere) He refuses to speak to Inej in Suli because “it makes me maudlin” and my question to you is: is he rejecting the language to further attempt to fit in and as a product of internalised prejudice, or because it’s so incredibly painful to be half-connected to a culture not only that he has forced himself to reject but also that he feels he can never safely return to? Probably both. He tells Inej he doesn’t believe in Suli superstition, religion, or culture, and yet is deeply upset when she uses it against him. Is this because he actually does believe, or wants to believe, in the Saints and the Suli interpretation of them but has rejected them for survival and the supposed betterment of himself? Possibly.

Bajan strikes me as very similar to Jesper in the way he presents himself as free, flirty, and casual, but had a considerable weight to almost everything he says and considerable pain hidden closer to the surface than he may have realised. I think there are parallels between him and Inej if we want to see them, but also a very stark difference in the way Kerch and Ketterdam have treated them. Bajan may not be privileged but even as an indenture he has - or at least as far as we know has had - a far safer and kinder experience than Inej has. This could be related to gender since the hyper-sexualisation of Suli culture is mostly centred on women - “the Menagerie always stocked a Suli girl” (I’ve intensely analysis this quote before so I won’t now but ugh there’s so much to say) - but we do know there are young boys captive at the pleasure houses as well although less commonly and it’s also possible that this difference is linked to Bajan’s decision to turn his back on Suli culture in order to appeal more to Kerch society whilst Inej continually embraced her culture and arguably became more religious in response to her experiences.

This is complicated because I’m not entirely sure how I feel about Bajan. I understand and support Inej’s perspective and everything she saw whilst in a far more dangerous position that he was, but is it possible that this was a lonely boy who saw someone he thought was like him and tried to communicate with her the only way he thought was safe? You are completely isolated in a foreign culture and hate yourself for having suppressed your own upbringing in order to survive, but now you meet someone else who yes, is in more danger than you, but who you might be able to help so that she can help you in return. You aren’t safe to speak freely and so you subtly tell her that you are an indenture, hoping she acknowledges that none of this is of your free will and because you know that she was indentured too (and remember from a societal pov there is very little understanding of what indentured girls at the pleasure houses actually go through and although that doesn’t excuse ignoring Inej’s trauma it may explain why he doesn’t fully acknowledge that their positions aren’t equal), you tell her that speaking your own shared language makes you feel maudlin, hoping she realises that you desperately miss your homeland and using your language makes you feel even further from your family than you already are because you can’t share it with them. She doesn’t seem to be taking any of it in, your employer has every intention of hurting her and you don’t know what else to do, so you make a last plea: you ask her about home. You think you’ve already made it clear that speaking about home is painful, so you ask her about it to invite that pain, to share it, so you both understand. But it fails, because she only sees your employer puppeteering you. You openly beg her to tell him the truth so that he won’t hurt her but she refuses to comply, and after all of your efforts and your desperate attempts to connect and beg her to help you both go home, her response is to turn your home against you and banish you from it for eternity. So when you see her the next morning, how could you possibly look her in the eye?

Bajan did not make all of the right choices in his brief time on the page. He didn’t. But maybe he was trying really hard, and he had no other options left.

Anyway I’m not saying this is definitive one way or the other it’s just an interpretation but I find him a very interesting and very sad character and I although I support all of Inej’s actions in these scenes from her point of view I do find myself wondering how she appeared to Bajan and how he felt in the aftermath.

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justice4gyeongsu · 3 months ago

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━━━ 'CHAPTER EIGHT' [WHEN DAWN BREAKS]

SYNOPSIS ➢ if only there was an on and off switch to your mind, that way, no one gets hurt.

PAIRING ➢ lee suhyeok x male!reader

AU ➢ enemies-to-lovers au!

CONTENT WARNING ➢ this chapter contains; flashbacks, near death experience, alot of angst, loneliness, depression, embarrassment, some fluff, exclusion, reoccuring ptsd, mentions of gore, blood, cannibalism [let me know if i missed any!]

NEXT | PREVIOUS

you quicken your pace, your heart racing as you scan the windows for a safe haven. the moon casts eerie shadows on the walls, making you feel like you're being watched. you can still hear the muffled voices of your peers, begging you to return, but you press on. as you turn a corner, you spot a door slightly ajar. you push it open slowly, hoping to find solace inside. the room is dimly lit, with only a sliver of moonlight illuminating the space. you step inside, closing the door behind you, and lean against it to catch your breath. but your reprieve is short-lived. you hear the sound of shuffling footsteps outside, growing louder. the two zombies you saw earlier are heading straight for you. you frantically scan the room for an escape or a place to hide, but there's nowhere to go.

suddenly, you remember the flashbacks that have been haunting you. the feeling of helplessness, the fear of being trapped. it's all coming back. you're paralyzed with fear, unable to move or speak. the zombies reach the door, their moans growing louder as they try to push their way in. you're trapped, alone and defenseless. and then, just as suddenly as they started, the moans stop. the zombies move on, unaware of your presence. you're left standing there, shaking and gasping for breath, and you realize they cant see you.

you know you need to find something to protect yourself with, but your past continues to haunt you, threatening to consume you at every turn. you turn to the corner of the room to see someone looming in the darkness, you back away slowly. you squint your eyes, trying to be as cautious as possible if its a zombie. but the person is as still as the wind. just, standing. you shake your head before looking again and seeing the person is gone, “what the fuck..?” you grip onto your hair as you lean downwards trying to muster any sanity you had left. you looked around the room and tried your best to see. you walked over to the door you came from and turned on the light switch. you squinted while looking around now to see it was another room you had never been in.

you look to see an espresso maker, comfy chairs with round tables in the middle of them. “huh?” you ask aloud. looking around more to see milk and other foods squished on the floor with splatters of blood on the walls. you huff before realizing it was one of the teachers lounges. there was one per floor and you had never been inside one until now.

as you take in the scene, you notice a figure slumped in one of the comfy chairs, a cup of espresso still clutched in their hand. you approach cautiously, noticing the teacher's nameplate on the desk: "ms. myung". you remember her as the history teacher who always had a warm smile and a love for social justice. but now, her smile is frozen in a permanent grimace, her eyes cloudy and lifeless. you see a bite wound on her arm, and the espresso cup is still clutched in her hand, as if she was interrupted mid-sip.

you feel a pang of sadness and regret, wondering what happened to her. she had a slit in her throat, she wasn't bitten. was she alone when the outbreak occurred? did she try to find help? as you search the room, you find a small notebook hidden between the couch cushions. it appears to be ms. myung’s journal, detailing her experiences during the outbreak. you begin to flip through the pages, reading her frantic scribbles about the chaos and terror that unfolded. the last entry catches your eye: "i've barricaded myself in here, hoping to wait it out. but i can hear someone outside. oh god, i can hear them."

you realize that ms. myung didn't make it, and that you're now alone in the teacher's lounge. you take a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling of unease. you know you need to keep moving, to find a way out of the school and into safety. but for now, you take a moment to honor ms. myung’s memory, and the sanctuary she tried to create in this small room.

as you finish reading the journal, you feel a sense of respect for ms. myung’s bravery. you decide to honor her memory by cleaning up the mess in the lounge. you start by carefully removing the broken cups and saucers from the tables, and then move on to wiping down the surfaces with a dirty apron you found on the floor. as you clean, you notice that the room is surprisingly peaceful, despite the chaos that unfolded prior. you find yourself feeling a sense of calm wash over you, as if ms. myung’s spirit is still present, watching over you. you continue cleaning, scrubbing the bloodstains from the walls and sweeping up the debris. as you work, you start to feel a sense of purpose, like you're taking control of your situation.

once the room is tidy, you take a step back to admire your handiwork. the lounge looks almost like it did before the outbreak, except for the eerie silence. you notice a small plant on the windowsill, still alive and green despite the chaos. you smile, feeling a sense of hope. just then, you hear a faint noise coming from the hallway. it's soft at first, but grows louder. you freeze, wondering if it's another survivor, or something more sinister. you slowly approach the door, listening intently. the noise sounds like footsteps, heavy and deliberate. your heart starts racing as you wonder who, or what, is coming your way.

as you wait in silence, your senses heightened, the footsteps grow louder and closer. you can tell that whoever or whatever is making the noise is trying to be stealthy, but the creaking of the old school's floors beneath their feet gives them away. your heart is racing, and your mind is flooded with worst-case scenarios. suddenly, the footsteps stop right outside the door. you hold your breath, expecting the door to burst open at any moment. but instead, there's a pause. you wonder if whoever it is has noticed the tidy room and is suspicious.

the silence is oppressive, and you find yourself straining to hear any sound. that's when you notice the smell of ms. myung's decomposing body has grown stronger, and you realize that it might give away your hiding spot. you try to hold your breath, hoping that the smell won't waft out into the hallway and alert whoever is on the other side of the door. your heart is racing, and your muscles are tense, ready to spring into action if necessary. just as you're starting to think that the person on the other side of the door has given up and left, you hear a faint scratching sound. it's soft at first, but grows louder, and you realize that someone is trying to pick the lock. your heart sinks, and you wonder if you'll be able to escape.

as the scratching sound continues, you prepare yourself for the worst. but then, suddenly, it stops. you hear footsteps walking away from the door, growing fainter with each passing moment.

you let out a sigh of relief, realizing that whoever it was has given up and left. you wait for a few moments to ensure they're really gone, then slowly emerge from under the table. as you stretch your cramped limbs, you can't help but feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you. the adrenaline that had been pumping through your veins just moments before begins to wear off, leaving you feeling drained. you look around the dark room, trying to decide what to do next. but as you glance at the comfortable-looking couch, you can't resist the temptation to lie down and rest. you collapse onto the couch, feeling the soft cushions envelop you. despite the eerie silence and the smell of ms. myung's body, you find yourself drifting off to sleep.

as you succumb to exhaustion, you're vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps echoing in the distance. but they're faint, and you're too tired to care. you fall into a deep sleep, surrounded by the eerie silence of the abandoned school.

you sleep fitfully, haunted by dreams of the outbreak and the chaos that ensued. but it's not the nightmares that wake you up - it's the smell. ms. myung's body has started to decompose rapidly, and the stench is overwhelming. you try to ignore it, but it's no use. the smell is so potent that it's making your eyes water and your stomach churn. you know you have to do something. you can't stay in the room with the body any longer. but what can you do? you can't just leave it here, and you can't bury it. the school is surrounded by zombies, and you can't risk going outside.

as you ponder your options, you look around the room frantically. that's when you notice the window. it's open, and you can see the ground below. it's a long way down, but you know it's your only option. with a sense of grim determination, you approach ms. myung's body. you try not to look at her face, but you can't help it. her eyes are cloudy and unfocused, and her skin is gray and decaying. you take a deep breath and grab her arms, trying to lift her up. she's heavier than you expected, but you manage to hoist her up and drag her to the window. as you look out the window, you see the zombies shambling around below. you know that's where ms. myung's body will end up.

with a sense of sadness and regret, you push her body out the window. you hear a thud as she hits the ground, and then the zombies close in. you watch in horror as they devour her body, feeling a sense of guilt and responsibility. you know you had to do it, but that doesn't make it any easier. as you turn away from the window, you realize that the room is quiet once again. the smell is still there, but it's not as overpowering as it was before. you take a deep breath and try to calm down, knowing that you have to keep moving forward. you can't stay here forever, and you need to find a way out of the school.

as the darkness closes in around you, the shadows on the walls seem to grow longer and more menacing. you can't shake the image of ms. myung's body being devoured by the zombies, her eyes frozen in a permanent scream. you feel a wave of grief wash over you, and before you know it, you're sobbing uncontrollably. you collapse onto the couch, burying your face in the cushions as you cry. the thought of your dad, who you lost in the outbreak, comes flooding back. you remember the way he smiled, the way he laughed. you miss him so much, and the pain feels like it's tearing you apart. as you sob, you start to feel like your dad is haunting you. you imagine him standing in front of you, his eyes disappointed and sad. you feel like you've let him down, like you should have been able to protect him. you remember the last time you saw him. the guilt and grief are overwhelming, and you cry until you're exhausted. your body shakes, your throat hurts, and your eyes feel raw. finally, you drift off to sleep, haunted by the memory of your dad and the trauma of the past few days.

as you sleep, you're tormented by nightmares. you dream of your dad, of ms. myung, and of the zombies that are still out there, waiting for you. you dream of being chased, of being trapped, and of being unable to escape. you wake up periodically, gasping for breath, your heart racing with fear. but eventually, you fall into a deep, troubled sleep, haunted by the memories of what you've lost once again.

you wake up to an eerie silence, the only sound being the creaking of the old school's wooden floorboards. you're shivering, despite the warmth of the summer morning. your body aches all over, but your injured shoulder hurts the most. you try to move it, but a sharp pain shoots through your arm, making you wince. as you sit up, you notice that the room is still dark, the only light coming from a small crack in the curtains. you try to stand up, but your legs feel like jelly. you're not sure if it's from the lack of food, the pain, or the trauma of the past couple of hours.

you look around the room, trying to remember where you are and what happened. the memories come flooding back, and you feel a wave of grief wash over you. you remember ms. myung's body, your dad's sacrifice, and your peers you had left the night prior. you try to shake off the memories and focus on your current situation. you need to find food, water, and medical supplies for your shoulder. you need to keep moving and find a way out of the school, your mind starts to wander. you think about your classmates, the ones you left behind when you fled the school. you regret leaving them, wondering if they're still alive, if they're okay.

but as you think about it more, you realize that you weren't ready to go back. you needed to leave the school, to get away from the chaos and the danger. you needed to save yourself, even if it meant leaving others that tested your limits behind. you think about how you were feeling before the outbreak, how trapped and suffocated you felt. you were struggling in school, struggling with your own personal demons. and then the outbreak happened, and everything changed. you realize that maybe, just maybe, the outbreak was your chance to escape, to start anew. but at what cost? you think about your dad, about ms. myung, about all the others who didn't make it. your mind is a jumble of emotions, regrets, and what-ifs. you're not sure what's coming your way, but you know you need to be ready. you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. you need to be strong, need to be prepared. you can't change the past, but you can try to survive the present. and maybe, just maybe, you can find a way to make a better future.

you slowly make your way to the teachers' cabinets, hoping to find some food or supplies. as you open the first cabinet, you're met with a disappointing sight. the shelves are bare, except for a few empty wrappers and crumbs. it looks like someone else had the same idea and cleaned out the cabinet.

you move on to the next cabinet, but it's the same story. either someone else got there first, or the teachers didn't stock up on much food. you're starting to lose hope, your stomach growling with hunger. as you open the third cabinet, you notice something shiny on the top shelf. you reach up and grab it, hoping it's a can of food or a bottle of water. but instead, it's a set of keys. you examine the keys, wondering what they unlock. are they for the school doors? the teachers' offices? or something else entirely? you put the keys in your pocket, thinking they might come in handy later. as you continue to search the cabinets, you find a few scraps of food, but it's not much. a stale granola bar, a few crackers, and a half-empty bottle of water. you take the food and drink, grateful for anything at this point. as you eat and drink, you think about the keys and what they might unlock. could they lead you to safety? or just more danger?

examining the keys more closely, your heart skips a beat as you see a car key among them. it's a silver key with a familiar logo on it - the logo of the nurses car. you feel a surge of hope and excitement. could this be the key to your nurse’s car? could the car still be parked outside, waiting for you to escape? if you can get to the car, you might have a chance to escape the school and find safety. you look around the room again, this time with a sense of purpose. you need to find out if the car is still outside, and if it's safe to get to. you approach the window and carefully peer out, scanning the parking lot for any signs of danger. as you look out the window, you see the parking lot is eerily quiet. there are a few cars parked, but no signs of movement. you see the nurse’s car, parked in its usual spot, looking untouched. your heart races with excitement and fear. you know you have to try and get to the car, but you're not sure what dangers lie ahead.

you decide to leave the classroom and make a quiet dash for the car. you carefully open the door and peer out into the hallway, listening for any signs of danger. the coast seems clear, so you step out into the hallway, trying to make as little noise as possible. as you walk, your heart is racing with anticipation. you're not sure what you'll find outside, or if you'll make it to the car without being seen. just as you're approaching the stairs, you accidentally drop the keys. they clatter loudly on the floor, echoing down the hallway.

you freeze, holding your breath. you know you've made a mistake. at first, there's silence. but then, you hear the unmistakable shuffling footsteps of zombies. they've heard the noise, and they're coming for you. you see two zombies emerge from a classroom to your left, their eyes fixed on you. they're fast-moving, and they're getting closer. you know you have to act fast. you quickly pick up the keys and start to move down the hallway, trying to find a side room or a hiding place. but the zombies are getting closer, and you know you won't be able to outrun them for much longer.

you quickly turn around and head down the stairs, your heart racing with fear. you can hear them as their footsteps echoing off the walls while they give chase. you take the stairs two at a time, your eyes fixed on the landing below. you can't afford to slip and fall now. as you reach the bottom of the stairs, you see the main hallway stretching out before you. it's empty and silent, but you know that won't last for long.

you start to run, your feet pounding the floor as you sprint down the hallway. you can hear the zombies behind you, their groans and footsteps getting closer and closer. you pass by the school office, the library, each one a reminder of the life you once knew. but now, they're just empty rooms, devoid of life and hope. you keep running, your eyes fixed on the front doors. you can see the sunlight streaming in through the windows, and you know that freedom is just a few feet away. but as you approach the doors, you hear the zombies closing in. their arms outstretched and their mouths open wide.

you burst through the doors and out into the sunlight, gasping for air. you don't dare look back, continuing to run, your eyes fixed on the parking lot and the safety of the silver car. as you emerge from the school, you're greeted by a sea of undead faces. every single zombie outside the school turns their attention towards you, their eyes fixed on you with a hungry gleam. you see zombies of all shapes and sizes, their bodies twisted and distorted by the infection. some are slow-moving, while others are faster and more agile. you start to run, your feet pounding the pavement as you sprint towards the parking lot. but with every step, you feel like you're being pulled into a nightmare.

the zombies are closing in on you from all sides, their moans and groans growing louder and more intense. you see a zombie teacher, her eyes cloudy and unfocused, reaching out for you with a grasping hand. you see a zombie student, his face twisted in a snarl, running towards you with an unnatural gait. you see zombies everywhere, their numbers seemingly endless. you keep running, your heart racing with fear. you can't afford to look back, can't afford to hesitate. you have to keep moving, no matter what.

approaching the parking lot, you see the nurse’s car waiting for you, its doors unlocked and its engine ready to roar to life. but between you and the car is a sea of undead, their arms outstretched and their mouths open wide. you take a deep breath and keep running, your eyes fixed on the car. you're almost there. just a few more feet. just a few more seconds.

you reach the car and grab the door handle, yanking it open with a surge of adrenaline. you dive inside, slamming the door shut behind you and locking it just as a zombie is about to grab you. you're safe, for the moment. you're trapped, but you're alive. you look around, taking stock of your surroundings. the car is just as your. you see the keys still in the ignition, and you turn them, starting the engine. the car roars to life, and you feel a surge of power and freedom. you put it in gear and start to move, but you're surrounded by zombies. they're everywhere, their faces pressed against the windows, their arms reaching out for you.

you inch forward, trying to navigate through the sea of undead. they're slow-moving, but there are so many of them. you're not sure if you'll be able to make it out alive. as you move, you hear the zombies scratching and clawing at the car. you see them trying to get in, trying to get to you. you know you can't let them. you keep moving, slowly but surely. you're trying to find a way out, trying to find a way to safety. but for now, you're trapped in this car, surrounded by the undead.

“fuck!” you curse, as you try to move the car, you realize that it's not going anywhere. the zombies are piling up underneath the car, their bodies stacking up like a gruesome barricade. the car starts to lift off the ground, its tires spinning futilely as it tries to gain traction. you're trapped, surrounded by the undead and unable to escape. the car is stuck, lifted off the ground by the sheer weight of the zombies. you're starting to feel a sense of panic, wondering how you'll get out of this situation. the zombies keep coming, piling up underneath the car and making it harder and harder to escape. you see them crawling under the car, their arms reaching up for you like grasping fingers.

you try to rock the car back and forth, hoping to dislodge the zombies and get some traction. but it's no use - there are too many of them, and the car is stuck fast. you're starting to feel a sense of desperation, wondering if you'll ever escape. the zombies are closing in, their moans and groans growing louder and more intense. you know you have to think fast, or you'll be trapped forever. as you look around, you see that the zombies are starting to climb onto the car, their fingers scratching at the windows and doors. you know you have to act fast, or you'll be overwhelmed.

you start to frantically search the car for anything that can help you escape. you check the glove compartment, the center console, but there's nothing that can help you. as you're searching, the car starts to sway back and forth. the zombies are pushing against it, trying to tip it over. you hear the metal creaking and groaning under the pressure. you grab onto the door handle to steady yourself as the car rocks violently. you see the zombies outside, their faces twisted in a snarl as they push against the car. the car's tires screech in protest as it's pushed from side to side. you're starting to feel a sense of motion sickness, your stomach lurching with each sway.

you try to hold on, but it's getting harder and harder. the zombies are relentless, pushing and pushing until the car is teetering on two wheels. you're not sure how much longer the car can take it. you're starting to feel a sense of dread, wondering if you'll be trapped inside when it finally tips over.

you close your eyes and start to pray, begging for a miracle. you're not sure if anyone is listening, but you're desperate for a way out.

"please, god, help me," you whisper, your voice shaking with fear. "i don't want to die like this. i don't want to be trapped in this car with these...things." you feel a sense of desperation wash over you as the car continues to sway. you're running out of time, and you know it. "please, just get me out of here," you pray, your eyes squeezed shut. "i'll do anything. just don't let me die like this."

as you pray, you feel a sense of calm wash over you. it's a small sense of peace, but it's enough to give you hope. you open your eyes and look around, trying to think of a new plan. the zombies are still pushing against the car, but you notice something that stops your train of thought. you hear a muffled, loud voice echoing through the air. it's hard to make out what the voice is saying, but it's loud enough to get the zombies' attention. the undead horde suddenly stops pushing against the car and turns towards the source of the noise. they begin to run, their slow, shuffling gait quickly turning into a frantic sprint.

you follow their gaze and see that they're running towards the school's outside speakers, which are mounted on the walls and poles around the campus. the voice is coming from the speakers, and it's getting louder by the second.

as you crack open the window, the voice on the intercom grows louder, its words becoming clearer. your heart skips a beat as you tune in to the message. "...we'll come get you, so stay put. got it?" suhyeok's voice echoes through the air, sending a shiver down your spine. your pulse quickens at the sound of his voice, and you can't help but wonder - is he talking to you? is he really coming to save you?

"cheongsan-ah," suhyeok continues, his tone laced with a hint of desperation. "i know what you'll say, but we can't hear you here. so don't go anywhere. wait for us. you really can't go anywhere, okay?" you stifle a laugh, biting your lip to hold back the chuckle of disbelief. the situation is too absurd, too surreal. the harsh reality sets in, a cold dose of skepticism tempering your fragile hope. of course, suhyeok wouldn't go out of his way to find you. why would anyone bother to save you? you're not exactly the most important person in the world.

the bitter truth echoes in your mind: you're on your own, and you always have been. no one's coming to rescue you, no hero's going to swoop in and save the day. it's just you, alone and adrift in a sea of chaos. the thought stings, but it's a familiar ache. you've grown accustomed to relying only on yourself, to expecting nothing from others.

suhyeok's voice crackles through the speaker once more, his words trembling with emotion. "..y/n-ah.." your heart skips a beat as you hear your name, the sound sending

shivers down your spine. you instinctively look up at the speaker, as if expecting to see suhyeok standing there.

"im...im not sure..." he clears his throat, his voice laced with uncertainty. "im not sure if you can hear this. please, be safe." the whispered words are meant for himself, but you catch every one, and they pierce your heart like a gentle dagger. tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you feel your body begin to shake.

"if you can hear me, i need you to meet us at the music room. we need you, come back." suhyeok's voice is stern, as if he's speaking directly in front of you. the words wrap around you like a warm embrace, and you feel a glimmer of hope ignite within. your hand tightens on the steering wheel as your body shakes with quiet sobs. the tears flow freely now, a mix of fear, relief, and longing streaming down your face.

suhyeok's voice echoes through the speakers once more, his words laced with concern. "don't leave by yourself, wherever you are, you should be with us."

you tilt your head back, allowing the tears to fall freely as his words wash over you. your gaze drifts towards the gate, mere meters away, beckoning like a lifeline. the zombies, still entranced by the speakers, claw and scratch at the metal, their mindless fury a stark contrast to the hope rising within you. someone, somehow, is broadcasting a message through the school's PA system, and it's creating a diversion. a spark of possibility ignites within you - maybe, just maybe, this is your chance to escape. you scan your surroundings, and your heart skips a beat as you realize the coast is clear. the zombies, entranced by the speakers, are oblivious to your presence. with a sense of determination, you prepare to make your move, the gate and potential freedom mere steps away.

hroryeong's voice chimes in, her tone laced with a gentle urgency. "y/n-ah, please come back, we can't lose anyone else. especially not you." as you listen, your eyes scan the surroundings, taking in the zombies' distraction and the potential escape route. but your mind begins to wander, and a flashback hits you like a wave. you remember suhyeok's bright, cheerful smile as you both walked home together. the memory is bittersweet, and your heart aches with a mix of emotions.

"fuck it..." you mutter to yourself, the words barely audible. the frustration, and longing all swirl together, and you feel a sense of resignation wash over you. but even as you say it, you know you can't give up. not yet. not when there's a glimmer of hope, no matter how small. you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what's to come. with a deep breath, you burst into action, dashing out of the car and sprinting across the parking lot with a surge of adrenaline. the meditative music grows louder, its calming melody a stark contrast to the chaos around you. as you run, you risk a glance back, and a mix of relief and fear hits you. the zombies are still entranced by the speakers, their undead bodies clawing at the metal as if trying to silence the voice. they're not following you, but you know that could change at any moment.

you pump your arm harder, your heart racing with every step. the music seems to be leading you somewhere, but you're not sure where. all you know is that you have to keep moving, to find safety and answers. the pounding in your chest grows louder, echoing the music's steady beat, as you run for your life. you sprint towards the building's doors, the music growing louder with every step. as you approach, you see a group of survivors running around the corner of the building, their figures blurry and indistinct. you squint, trying to make out who they are, but your eyes can't quite focus. they're too far away, and your mind is racing with fear and adrenaline. not having time to linger, you bursted open the school doors and closed them behind you.

continuing, you pound the hallway floor with your feet, your heart racing with every step. you can still hear the music, and the sound of footsteps echoing ahead of you. you're determined to catch up to the group, to find safety and answers. as you reach the staircase, you take the steps two at a time, your legs pumping furiously. but as you hit the fifth step, your foot slips on a patch of polished floor. you feel yourself flying backwards, your arms windmilling wildly as you try to regain your balance.

but it's too late. you land hard on the step, the wind knocked out of you. you gasp for breath, your lungs burning as you try to suck in air. your head spins, and for a moment, you see stars. you lie there, dazed and disoriented, as the music continues to play and the footsteps grow fainter. you know you have to get up, to keep moving, but your body feels like lead. you're paralyzed, unable to move or breathe.

slowly, agonizingly slowly, your lungs start to work again. you drag in a ragged breath, and then another, your chest heaving with effort. you roll onto your side, using the handrail to pull yourself up to a sitting position. as you look up, you see a figure standing on the landing above you, looking down with a concerned expression. you try to speak, but your voice is barely a whisper. the figure starts to move towards you, and you realize, with a jolt of fear, that you don't know who it is.

soft words echoes in your mind as the figure reaches out a hand to help you up. but just as you're about to take it, you blink. and when you open your eyes again, the figure is gone. you're left sitting on the stairs, feeling bewildered and disoriented. but as you look up at the spot where the figure was standing, you can't shake the feeling that it was...familiar.

the face, the hair, the gentle smile...it all looked so much like the lady from your dream. the one who appeared to you that one time, her presence a comforting warmth in the darkness. and then it hits you - the lady looked like your mother. you feel a pang in your chest, a mix of emotions swirling together. you barely have any memories of your mother, just fragmented images and a deep sense of loss. but seeing that figure, even for just a moment...it brought it all flooding back. you sit there, frozen, as the music continues to play and the silence stretches out around you. you're not sure what to do, or where to go. all you know is that you saw something, someone, who made you feel seen and remembered. and now they're gone.

you shake off the feeling of unease and continue running up the staircase, your feet pounding the steps. you reach the top and push yourself forward, entering one of the hallways. as you look around, you see rows of classrooms and lockers, the familiar sights of a school. but something feels off. the silence is oppressive, and the shadows cast by the flickering fluorescent lights seem to twist and writhe on the walls. you start to move down the hallway, your eyes scanning the doors and windows. you're not sure what you're looking for, but you know you need to keep moving. the music is still playing, but it's fainter now, and you can't quite make out the words. you strain your ears, trying to pick up any sound that might lead you to the group.

you quicken your pace, your footsteps echoing off the walls. you're getting close, you can feel it.

you round another corner, your heart racing with anticipation. but as you hit the straightaway, you notice something's off. the music isnt playing. you slow to a stop, your ears straining to pick up any sound. and then, you hear it. the snarling, groaning, and shuffling footsteps of zombies. lots of them.

you spin around, and your blood runs cold. a giant horde of zombies is packed into the hallway, their eyes fixed on you. they're trying to run, but the hallway is too tight, and they're bottlenecked. the zombies are stacked up, their arms outstretched, their jaws open in a frenzy of hunger. you see the ones in the back climbing over the ones in the front, desperate to get to you. you're frozen in terror, your mind racing for a way out. but there's nowhere to go. the hallway is blocked, and the zombies are closing in. you take a step back, your eyes scanning the horde. turning to the leftyou see the music room door, but it's too far away. you'll never make it.

the zombies take another step closer, their snarls growing louder. you raise your hands, ready to defend yourself, but you know it's futile. you're surrounded, and you're running out of time.

just as all hope seems lost, you see a glimmer of salvation. suhyeok, namra, and wujin come running from the other end of the hallway, their faces set in determination. namra sees you first, and her eyes widen in alarm. "run!" she shouts, waving her arms wildly. time seems to slow down as you force your burning legs to move. you pump your arms and sprint towards the music room, the zombies mere feet behind. suhyeok sees you and rushes to the door, pushing namra and wujin inside. he holds the door open, his eyes locked on yours, and shouts your name.

"y/n-ah!" he yells, his voice echoing down the hallway. you're almost there, your legs screaming in protest. all you want to do is reach his arms, his arms that kept you safe. you can feel the zombies' hot breath on your neck, their fingers reaching out to grab you. with one final burst of energy, you launch yourself at the door, suhyeok pulling you inside just as the zombies are about to grab you. he slids the door shut with a slam behind you, leaning against it to block the horde. you collapse on the floor, gasping for breath, as suhyeok looks down at you with a mix of relief and aggravation.

suhyeok doesnt wait for you to catch your breath before he leans down and grips on your collared shirt and tightens it as he pulls you close, his eyes blazing. "how many times do i have to save you, dammit?" he shouts, his voice echoing off the music room walls. "stop being an idiot, and think." he shakes you slightly, his fingers digging into your shirt. "we're in this together, now. no more running off on your own!" everyone watches in silence, their faces somber, as suhyeok's words hang in the air. you feel a surge of emotions: guilt, shame, and a hint of defiance.

but as you look into suhyeok's eyes, you see the fear and worry etched there, and your defiance melts away. you nod, slowly, and suhyeok's grip relaxes. "alright, okay..," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "i won't leave again." suhyeok's expression softens, and he lets go of you. "please," he whispers back.

as you shakily stand up, you can't help but feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you. everyone's staring at you, their faces filled with a mix of relief and concern. "we're glad you're back," namra says, smiling weakly. "we thought you were dead, idiot," wujin adds, shaking his head. but before anyone else can speak, onjo steps forward, a scowl on his face. "what were you thinking, running off like that?" she demands, her voice low and stern. and then, without warning, she slaps your bad arm, making you wince in pain. "you could have gotten yourself killed," she scolds, her eyes blazing with worry. you feel a surge of tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you rub your sore arm. "i'm sorry," you mutter, looking down at your feet. cheongsan steps forward, his face tense. "onjo, that's enough," he says, his voice firm but calm. but onjo just shakes her head. "no, cheongsan, he needs to learn. we can't afford to lose anyone else. both of you need to learn.”

overwhelmed with emotion, you feel a gentle touch on your shoulder. you turn to see hroryeong standing there, a warm smile on her face. "i'm so glad you're back," she says, her voice trembling. before you can respond, she wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a gentle hug. you feel a lump form in your throat as you hug her back, tears of relief and gratitude streaming down your face. "i.. we were so worried," she whispers, her voice muffled against your shoulder.

you hesitantly pat he back, feeling a sense of comfort and safety in her embrace. the pain in your arm fades into the background as you savor the niceness of her hug. "i'm sorry," you whisper back, your voice shaking. "i won't leave again." hroryeong pulls back, her eyes shining with tears. "i know you won't," she says, smiling softly. "we're in this together."

the others watch, smiling, as you and hroryeong share a moment of tender connection. for a brief instant, the horrors of the zombie-infested school fade away, replaced by a sense of hope and unity. while you pull back from hroryeong's hug, you take a moment to look around the room. the music room is small, with chairs and music stands scattered about. but what catches your attention is who's not there.

"where's ms. park?" you ask, scanning the room again.

wujin’s expression turns grim. "we don't know.” you feel a pang of worry. ms. park was always the calm and collected one. if she's not here... "what about gyeongsu?" you ask, hoping against hope.

jimin shakes her head. "nayeon murdered him." your heart sinks. gyeongsu’s laughing face flashed in your eyes from when you were just talking yesterday. you stared frozen and in shock, you look around to see everyones glum expressions. “wait what?” you ask in disbelief. jimin steps forward, her eyes clouded with bitterness. "nayeon...she wiped that dead girl's leftover blood that was on the stick and onto the scratch on his hand. he got infected and she lied about doing it," she says, her voice hesitant. “namra called her out and she confessed to murdering him. she left and ms.. park went after her.” she finished with a tear falling from her eye.

"what do you mean?" you press, feeling a sense of unease. jimin takes a deep breath. you feel a chill run down your spine. "what do you mean he turned?" everyone stayed quiet as you couldnt believe what you were hearing, you're horrified. "nayeon did that?"

daesu nods. "fuck..” you say while you feel your heart ache, one of your new friends was gone. someone who made you comfortable, someone you wished you could go back and time and just tell him how much of a good friend he had been. not to you, but to everyone around him. he was a good person, why did that have to happen to him?

“ill kill her if i see her,” you sniffled while rubbing your eyes. the room falls silent, the weight of your words sinking in. nayeon's actions are unfathomable. and ms. park, always the protector, went after her, leaving the rest of you behind. “don't talk like that,” suhyeok speaks up with a shake of his head. “when you stoop to her level youre no better than she is.” he places a hand on your back. “lets just, take a minute and, take a breath.” he announces to everyone who nods.

hroryeong gently takes your arm, leading you to sit beside her. as you settle in, you're unaware of jimin's gaze fixed on you both from across the room, her eyes narrowed slightly as she closes the curtains. "how are we going to get to the roof?" hroryeong asks, her voice soft as she holds your arm. her sudden display of affection catches you off guard, making you feel a weird twist in your stomach. you try to focus on the question at hand, but it's difficult with suhyeok and jimin staring at you both. their attention makes you feel like you're under a microscope. "there are zombies out there," suhyeok says, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for an escape route. "let's just think this through for a minute."

the weight of their gazes still lingers, making you feel like you're the center of attention. you try to shake off the feeling, focusing on the task at hand: finding a way to the roof.

while you glance around the room, you can't help but feel a sense of comfort in the presence of your peers. you've missed them dearly, but the words to express it get stuck in your throat. hroryeong's hand tightens around your arm, pulling your attention back to her. she slowly stands up, her eyes fixed on something behind you. you follow her gaze, peeking over her shoulder to see what's caught her attention.

"hey, namra. what happened to your arm?" hroryeong asks, her voice trembling slightly. you try to see what's wrong with namra's arm, but from your seated position, it's out of sight. hroryeong's concern, however, is concerning. "i-its a bite mark, isn't it?" hroryeong's voice cracks as she asks the question, her eyes wide with worry.

namra's silence is deafening, her gaze fixed on her arm as if the answer lies there. cheongsan's reaction is swift and menacing, grabbing a music sheet holder and advancing towards namra with a threatening stride.the room erupts into chaos as everyone scrambles to get away from namra, but you remain frozen, your body unmoving like a statue. hroryeong tries to pull you away, but you resist, your feet rooted to the spot.

suhyeok steps forward, placing himself between cheongsan and namra. "it's not what it looks like," he says firmly, his eyes locked on cheongsan. cheongsan snarls, telling suhyeok to move away, but he refuses to budge. wujin stands beside him, a united front against cheongsan's aggression. "it's true," wujin chimes in. "a zombie didn't bite her." he says a single word, "gwinam," and cheongsan's face falters, her confidence wavering for a moment. the room holds its breath, waiting for cheongsan's next move.

"he bit her. it wasn't zombies," he finishes, his voice firm. the name "gwinam" crawls under your skin, making your legs buckle. you lose balance and plop down on the chair, your mind reeling. "w-who?" cheongsan asks, her voice laced with skepticism. "gwinam. the bully," suhyeok replies, his eyes flicking to you before returning to cheongsan. "it's true, i saw him. we all did." wujin chimes in, pointing to namra and himself.

"yoon gwinam?" cheongsan asks again, her voice incredulous. wujin nods his head, and cheongsan turns to namra for confirmation. "namra, did gwinam really bite you?" she asks, her voice firm but laced with a hint of doubt. you turn to look at namra, who nods slightly, her eyes downcast. you curse underneath your breath, the truth sinking in like a punch to the gut.

"fuck, there should be others alive then," you exclaim, a glimmer of hope sparking within you. jimin's curiosity is piqued, and she pushes off from the curtains to approach you. "what do you mean?" she asks, her eyes locked on yours. you take a deep breath, recalling the moment. "when i heard you guys on the broadcast, while i was running, i thought...i thought i saw a group of people, teens." you correct yourself, remembering the details. "but they looked normal, not bit." the room erupts into a mix of excitement and disbelief, everyone grasping onto the possibility that they might not be the only survivors.

cheongsan's expression, however, remains skeptical. "that's not possible," he says, his voice firm. you turn to him, confusion etched on your face. "i saw them-" but he cuts you off with a calm shake of his head. "no, not that," he clarifies. "gwinam," he gestures to namra, "he was bitten by zombies." suhyeok lets out a disbelieving scoff. "bullshit," he says, his tone incredulous. the room falls silent, awaiting cheongsan's explanation.

"i saw him get bit," cheongsan counters, his voice steady, his eyes unwavering. "if you get bitten by zombies, you turn into one," he continues, his logic trailing off as wujin interrupts, his voice rising in frustration.

"he's not a zombie! motherfucker was talking to us," wujin exclaims, his words laced with emotion. you turn to namra, seeking answers. "but...why did he bite you then?" you ask, your eyes locked on hers. namra's gaze meets yours, a glint of something in her eye - desperation, perhaps, or a plea for understanding. you're not quite sure, but it's clear she's searching for something. wujin answers for her, his voice still laced with anger. "he's always been an asshole, i don't know." you nod in agreement, your eyes drifting to cheongsan, who still grasps the music sheet stand, his grip tight, ready to strike at a moment's notice. "that i can agree on," you say, your voice measured, your eyes never leaving cheongsan's.

"so can you put the damn thing down?" wujin asks, his agitation growing, his voice rising as he gestures towards the music sheet stand still clutched in cheongsan's hand.

"did gwinam really get bitten?" namra asks cheongsan, who nods solemnly, his expression grim. without warning, namra strides over to the window, sweeps the curtain aside with a swift motion, and opens it, letting in a warm breeze. she climbs up to sit on the windowsill, her movements swift and deliberate, as if driven by a sudden urge.

you rush to stop her, but hroryeong's arm wraps around yours like a clamp, holding you back. "she's bitten!" she warns, her voice low and urgent, her eyes wide with concern. you shake your head, trying to free yourself, and call out to namra. "namra, don't do it!" your voice echoes through the room, filled with a sense of desperation. namra looks up at you, her eyes blinking slowly as if considering your words, her gaze unfocused. "you haven't turned yet, so it's okay. everything's fine," you try to reassure her, and the others, hoping to calm the situation.

as you turn to face the room, you notice jimin prying hroryeong's hand off your arm, her touch solid. jimin sends you a look, and for a moment, you wonder if it's jealousy flashing in her eyes, or just uneasiness. you seem to be inadvertently angering a lot of people lately, just by existing, and it's getting harder to keep up.

“wait, i've got an idea,” you say, a spark of inspiration igniting as you walk over to namra and gaze at the curtains beside her. you grab the curtains and bring them towards her, “we can tie her arms so she can't reach us if she turns,” you begin, trying to reassure the others. you glance around, noticing the skepticism etched on their faces. undeterred, you continue, “and put the desks in a circle around her, so if she gets loose, the desks will slow her down. we'll figure out what to do from there.”

cheongsan slowly nods, a hint of agreement on his face. “it's gonna be okay, namra,” you whisper, turning to her with a reassuring smile. namra looks at you with a mix of affection and disbelief, as if she can't fathom why you're going to such great lengths to keep her alive.

“i wondered why i never tried to talk to you,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes locked on yours. you pause, the curtain tie hovering near her wrist, as you meet her gaze. “but i see now, you're really a lot more than i thought you were,” she continues, her words dripping with a sense of wonder and newfound appreciation. the room falls silent, the only sound the soft rustling of the curtains, as you hold namra's gaze, the connection between you palpable.

your face is frozen in stunned silence, your eyes still locked on namra's, the moment everlasting. however, the spell is broken as wujin approaches, his voice slicing through the tension. "i got it, y/n-ah," he says, his words a gentle nudge, prompting you to back away, your hand rising to scratch the back of your head in a gesture of awkwardness. clearing your throat, you nod, trying to shake off the intensity of the moment. you flash namra a small, reassuring smile before turning to make your way back to cheongsan and onjo, who are engaged in a hushed but heated conversation.

their voices are low, but their body language speaks volumes - stiff postures, clenched fists, and narrowed eyes. you can't help but wonder what's fueling their disagreement, and whether it's related to the current situation or something deeper.

as you approach cheongsan and onjo, you notice the others springing into action, their movements swift and purposeful. hroryeong and jimin begin to drag desks across the floor, forming a makeshift barrier around namra, who watches with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "make sure they're secure," cheongsan calls out, his eyes never leaving onjo's face, their argument momentarily put on hold.

joonyeong joins in, his muscles straining as he lifts a desk into place. "we need to make sure she can't get out," he grunts, his face set in determination. the desks form a tight circle around namra, who looks like a wild animal trapped in a cage. her eyes dart back and forth, with a linear expression "it's okay, namra," you say, trying to reassure her, but your words fall flat. she knows as well as you do that this is a temporary solution, a desperate attempt to contain the inevitable. as the last desk is put in place, the group steps back, their faces etched with worry and uncertainty. what happens next is anyone's guess.

the group stands in silence, their eyes fixed on namra, who sits quietly in the center of the desk circle. the air is thick with tension, heavy with the weight of unspoken fears. cheongsan breaks the silence, his voice low and even. "we need to figure out what to do next." onjo nods, his expression grim. "we can't keep her here forever." you sense tension between their words. hroryeong speaks up, her voice laced with concern. "but what if she...what if she turns?" jimin places a hand on her arm, her eyes locked on namra. "we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." wujin shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting between namra and the others. "we should...we should try to find a cure." namra's head snaps up, her eyes locking onto wujin's. "there is no cure," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. the group falls silent again, the reality of their situation sinking in. they're trapped, with no clear way out, and time is running out. "maybe there is a cure, and we just don't know it yet," you say, a glimmer of hope in your voice.

the others begin to nod, and soon they're all sitting down, discussing possibilities and theories. the room is filled with the hum of conversation, a sense of determination in the air. you, however, remain standing, your eyes fixed on namra. you walk over to a nearby chair and sit down, your gaze never leaving hers. she looks up, catching your eye, and for a moment, you just stare at each other.

meanwhile, suhyeok sits down beside you, his eyes fixed on you with an unreadable expression. you can feel his gaze, but you don't turn to him, your attention still on namra. "what are you thinking?" suhyeok asks, his voice low, but you just shake your head, your eyes still locked on namra. the conversation continues around you, but you tune it out, your focus solely on namra. you're trying to understand her, to read her, to see if there's any sign of...anything.

suhyeok follows your gaze, his eyes also fixed on namra. "you really think there's a cure, don't you?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. you nod, still not looking away from namra. "i have to believe it," you say, your voice equally quiet. suhyeok nods, his eyes still on namra. "i think you might be right," he says, his voice filled with a newfound sense of hope. the others continue to discuss and debate, their voices rising and falling in a cacophony of sound. but you and suhyeok sit in silence, your eyes fixed on namra, who seems to be watching you both with an intensity that makes your skin prickle.

as the minutes tick by, the room begins to settle, the conversation dying down as the weight of the situation sinks in. but you and suhyeok remain vigilant, your eyes never leaving namra's face. you notice a subtle change in namra's appearance, a faint discoloration around her left eye. it's a faint pinkish hue, almost imperceptible, but it's enough to make your heart skip a beat. the rest of her face, however, looks fine, no signs of illness or distress. but then, namra's hand rises to her mouth, and she begins to wipe her lips, as if she's salivating excessively. her eyes dart around the room, a hint of panic creeping into her gaze.

"namra, what's wrong?" you ask, your voice laced with concern. she doesn't respond, too focused on her own body. her hand moves to her eye, touching the infected area gingerly. "oh no, oh no, oh no," hroryeong whispers, her voice trembling. the others lean in, their faces etched with worry. cheongsan's eyes lock onto namra's, his expression grim.

"we need to get her out of here, now," he says, his voice firm. onjo grabs cheongsan's arm, holding him back. "wait, cheongsan, don't! let's give her a chance. maybe she won't...maybe she'll be okay." cheongsan's face twists in anguish, but he just stares, his eyes never leaving namra's convulsing form. namra's body slows, her limbs relaxing as she gazes up at you. her eyes, once bright and warm, now have a glint of...something else. a hunger, a craving, a primal urge that makes your skin crawl. she tries to walk towards you, her movements slow, deliberate. the others watch in horror, frozen in place. "namra, no," you whisper, trying to reach out to her, but she doesn't respond. her eyes lock onto yours, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. it's as if she's seeing you for the first time, seeing you as...prey. "namra, snap out of it!" wujin shouts, trying to break the spell, but she doesn't flinch. only when the curtains hold her from walking any further towards you.

then, just as suddenly as it began, everything stops. namra's body freezes, her eyes glaze over, and she collapses to the ground, unconscious. the room exhales a collective breath, the tension broken. but you know it's far from over. something inside namra has awakened, and it's only a matter of time before it takes control again.

namra's face, once twisted in a snarl, relaxes, her features smoothing out as she exhales a deep breath. her eyes, once gleaming with an otherworldly hunger, return to their natural warm brown, filled with a deep exhaustion. she sits up, her movements slow and labored, as if she's been drained of all energy. her hands tremble as she pushes her hair back, revealing a face pale and clammy. "namra?" you whisper, reaching out a hand to her. she looks up, her eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, you see a glimmer of recognition, of the person she once was. "i think shes fine," wujin mutters. “she wouldve definitely turned by now,” joonyeong says.

namra's voice trembles as she speaks, her words spilling out in a rush. "i'm not okay...i wanted to bite you...i wanted to be as close to you as possible...i could smell your sweat..." her eyes drop, shame and horror written across her face. the others exchange worried glances, unsure of how to respond. onjo, moves the desks and walks up to her. puts a hand on namra's shoulder, trying to comfort her. "namra, we'll get through this," she says softly. "we'll find a way to reverse whatever is happening to you."

but namra shakes her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "you don't understand...i wanted to hurt him...i wanted to taste him..." her words hang in the air, a dark and foreboding cloud. you feel a shiver run down your spine as you realize the true extent of namra's transformation. “you guys arent safe, i should go,” namra tries to quickly leave through the classroom doors but onjo stops her in her place. “wait,” she turns to cheongsan. “you saw gwinam get bitten by zombies?” to which he rolls his eyes.

"i told you a hundred times, yes," cheongsan exhales, his eyes darting to the floor before meeting onjo's gaze. "and you saw him turn?" onjo presses, her voice laced with skepticism. cheongsan hesitates, his eyes dropping again. "no, i didn't." the group exchanges confused glances, unsure of what to make of cheongsan's admission. onjo turns to suhyeok, her eyes narrowing. "suhyeok, you definitely fought gwinam?" suhyeok stands, his voice firm. "yes, i did.” he meets your gaze, and you sense a understanding pass between you. onjo's words hang in the air, a theory taking shape. "there's no reason for either to lie," onjo says, her voice filled with conviction. "maybe gwinam was bitten but not affected. i think he's immune."

jimin speaks up, her tone bitter. "still, she tried to bite him." her eyes flash with fear and distrust. "regardless, she isn't normal. so i'm not going with her." you rise to your feet, your eyes wide in disbelief. "jimin, stop," hroryeong pleads, placing a hand on jimin's arm. but jimin shakes her off, her gaze fixed on namra, who sits silently, her eyes downcast. the group's tension rising, divided loyalties and fears hanging precariously in the balance.

"what? are you saying that i'm wrong?" jimin taunts, her voice dripping with defiance. but no one responds, the group's silence a testament to their uncertainty. suddenly, namra springs into action, her movements swift and determined. "enough!" she exclaims, her voice ringing out as she rushes to the door, intent on leaving. but onjo is quicker, grabbing namra's arm before you can even react. "stop! where will you even go?" onjo asks, her voice laced with concern. namra struggles against onjo's grip, but she holds firm. "hyeonju and isak's hands were cold when they turned," onjo pleads, her eyes locked on namra's. "namra's are warm. that means something."

jimin scoffs, her expression unyielding. "so? that means nothing, she could still turn. what then?" onjo's face twists in frustration. "jimin, stop acting like this. we need to work together." but jimin refuses to back down. "no, onjo, you're the one who's being blind. we can't trust her." the group's tension escalates, the debate raging on as namra stands frozen, her eyes fixed on the door, longing for escape.

"guys!" you say firmly, your voice commanding attention. "we're not going to survive this if we dont trust together. jimin, i understand your concerns, but you need to consider the fact that namra is immune to the virus. she could be the key to our survival." jimin crosses her arms, her expression unyielding. "i don't care," she says. "i'm not going to risk my life for someone who might turn on us at any moment.”

"that's exactly my point," you say, your voice firm. "we can't just abandon each other. we need to work together if we're going to make it through this." the group looks at you, some nodding in agreement, others looking uncertain. "here's what we could do," you continue. "we could set up a schedule for keeping watch, making sure everyone gets rest. we could work together to find food and supplies. and watch eachothers backs." jimin scowls, but you can see the faintest glimmer of understanding in her eyes. "namra, try to work with us to understand your immunity," you say. "we'll figure out how to use it to our advantage." namra nods, a small amount of gratitude on her face. "and jimin," you say, your voice firm. "you're gonna have to learn to trust." jimin nods reluctantly, but you can see the tension in her body begin to ease.

“alright, lets get started.”

#all of us are dead #allofusaredeadfanfic #enemies to allies #angst #lee su hyeok #male reader #suhyeok x male reader #suhyeok x reader #all of us are dead x reader #bxb #lgbtqia #fluff

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