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leona-hawthorne · 1 month ago

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KINKTOBER #7– JUST PHYSIOLOGICAL RESPONSE / lorenzo berkshire

october 22nd no smut in this part

part one part two

lorenzo berkshire x fem reader

summary: it wasn’t until now, sitting across from lorenzo berkshire behind the cold walls of azkaban, that you realized the seriousness of your line of work.

warnings: criminal psychologist!reader, dark!lorenzo, he is lowkey an actual psychopath in this so tread carefully when reading :D, the smut will be in part two

words: 3.9k

a/n: like i’ve said before, these are not typical kinktober fics—they include plot so yeah they’re quite long, don’t hate me lol. this one is a favorite of mine! part 2 will be out soon!

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You had never imagined you would sit in a place like this, surrounded by stone walls that absorbed sound and light alike, a reminder of the darkness beneath the surface. The air was thick with secrets and despair, each breath heavy with the history of those who came before you. Here, in the heart of Azkaban, the ghosts of the past whispered their regrets, their voices mingling with the clinking of metal bars.

As you prepared for the interview, the gravity of your role pressed against your chest like a leaden shroud. Each tick of the clock echoed like a metronome, marking time until you confronted one of the wizarding world’s most notorious figures. Your choice to seek understanding among chaos felt both a privilege and a burden. You had devoted years to studying the complexities of the human mind, yet sitting alone in that sterile room, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were truly equipped for what lay ahead.

The darkness of his deeds stretched far and wide, and the weight of his legacy hung over you like a storm cloud, threatening to unleash emotions you had spent years learning to contain. You had read the reports, the testimonies, the chilling accounts that left a mark on the page, but nothing could prepare you for the reality of sitting across from a man whose choices had altered countless lives. Doubts crept in, whispering questions you had pushed aside: Was this the right path? Could you unearth the truths hidden beneath layers of calculated cruelty?

As the door creaked open, the air shifted, and you steeled yourself for the confrontation. In that moment, you realized the fragility of your conviction, the thin line you walked between empathy and revulsion, a dance with shadows that could consume you whole if you let them.

With a slow, painful exhale, you watched as two guards brought your subject in, harshly holding him by the arms like they were disgusted to touch him. Your breath, measured and controlled, still felt heavy, weighted by the reputation of the man across from you. A minute later, the guards were gone, leaving you alone with him.

Lorenzo Berkshire—infamous, calculating, and entirely too comfortable in the chains binding his wrists.

He watched you with amused detachment, as if this interrogation were nothing more than a mild inconvenience. His eyes, dark and unrelenting, never left your face, reading you like a book you hadn’t realized you’d written.

You cleared your throat, though the sound seemed small in the silence. “Mr. Berkshire,” you began, your voice more controlled than you felt, “It’s nice to finally meet. I’m here to understand and help you.”

A flicker of amusement passed over his features, and then he leaned back in his chair, deceptively relaxed despite the magical restraints. The smirk at the corners of his mouth made your skin prickle, like a warning signal your body recognized before your mind caught up. “Help me?” he echoed, his voice low, rich, almost playful. “How very… noble of you.”

You pressed forward, refusing to let his arrogance throw you off balance. But it was impossible not to feel the tension, thick and charged. Each word from his lips felt like a dare, like he was waiting for you to crack under his presence. But you were determined not to let him win, not to give him the satisfaction.

His gaze locked with yours, and for a split second, it felt like the entire room disappeared—the walls, the chains, everything. Just his eyes on you, unflinching, curious. Something flickered inside you, uncomfortable and unwanted. You pushed it down, forcing focus.

“This is an opportunity for reflection,” you continued, a little more forceful, needing to regain control. “A chance for rehabilitation.”

He laughed, melodic in a way that didn’t belong in a place as desolate as this. The sound curled around you, drawing you in before you even realized it. “Rehabilitation,” he repeated, tasting the word as if it were foreign. “You think I need fixing, Doctor?”

His smile widened, and you could feel the heat rising in your chest, spreading to your neck. The intensity of his gaze crawled over your skin, peeling back layers, searching for the pieces of you he could exploit. The files on him hadn’t prepared you for this. They were clinical, cold, facts and figures that tried to capture his cruelty. But there was no preparing for the feeling of being in the same room as him, for the way he twisted words into something far more dangerous than you anticipated.

You tightened your grip on the folder, trying to ground yourself. “Your actions brought you here,” you said, though your voice wavered. “You’re here because of the choices you’ve made, Mr. Berkshire. This is an opportunity to explore why.”

His smile deepened, dark amusement dancing in his eyes. “Choices,” he drawled, leaning forward, chains clinking softly. “I’ve made a great many choices, love, but none I regret.”

You bristled at the way he threw the word ‘love’ at you, casual and intimate all at once, like he was playing a game you weren’t even sure you knew the rules to. You could feel the shift in the air, the way the space between you suddenly felt too small, too intimate for a setting like this. His legs stretched out beneath the table, and though the room was vast and hollow, it felt as though he was far too close.

“It’s Dr. Y/L/N,” you corrected, needing distance. But he only smiled wider, his eyes never breaking from yours, as if he could see through your barriers.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” he repeated, and the way your name rolled off his tongue sent a strange thrill through you, something you despised yourself for feeling. You straightened, willing your body to remain rigid, professional, in control. But you could feel his eyes, pulling at the threads of your restraint. “Now that’s a name I could get used to. Pretty. Suits you.”

What the fuck?

A strange heat pooled in your stomach, twisting unease and the thrill of his presence. It wasn’t fear—not quite. It was something more insidious, far more dangerous because it felt like an invitation. You could sense it in his gaze, the way he tilted his head, considering you. He wasn’t just interested in the interrogation; he was interested in you. And that thought, more than anything, sent your pulse racing.

“We’re not here to discuss my name,” you stated, though your voice came out breathless. You forced yourself to look back at the file, the black-and-white details of his crimes staring up at you, but they like a flimsy shield against his intensity.

“Shame,” he murmured, voice dragging over your senses. “I’d much rather talk about you.”

You snapped your gaze back to him, feeling the frustration flare beneath your skin, mingling with the strange pull of his words. “That’s not why I’m here,” you said, firmer this time, trying to anchor yourself in the facts, in the reason for your presence in this cursed room. But even as you spoke, you could feel him pulling you into his rhythm, like a song you couldn’t quite resist dancing to.

His gaze slid over you, slow and deliberate, as though he were cataloging every reaction, every slight movement of your body. You wondered if he could hear the way your heart hammered against your ribs, could sense the way your breath quickened despite your attempts to remain unaffected. “Are you sure?” he asked, voice like silk. “Because I’m finding this little game of ours rather entertaining.”

Your throat tightened as his words settled over you, heavy and intoxicating. There was a flicker in his eyes—something raw, something that spoke to the danger lurking beneath the surface. It twisted inside you, something dark and unnameable, something that frightened you because of how close it came to desire.

You took a steadying breath, trying to clear your mind. “This isn’t a game,” you said, though the words felt hollow, meant more for you than for him.

“Isn’t it?” he asked, leaning forward, his presence pressing against you. His lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I think you’re enjoying this more than you’d like to admit.”

A shiver raced down your spine, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you leaned back, forcing the space between you to widen even though it felt like the room was closing in. “I’m here to discuss your actions, Lorenzo. This conversation is about you, not me.”

For a moment, his smile faltered, something cold flashing across his expression. But it vanished, replaced by that same unsettling charm. “Oh, but Doctor,” he purred, voice dripping with dangerous allure. “That’s no fun.”

Lorenzo’s grin sharpened, something almost wicked in the way his eyes darkened, glinting with an edge that made the room feel smaller, more suffocating. He leaned forward, the chains clinking softly against his wrists, though the sound carried a weight heavier than the steel. His gaze flicked over your face—intent, invasive, peeling back the thin layers of control you’d carefully crafted.

“I’ll tell you a little secret.” His voice, low and deliberate, slid across the space between you like a blade, smooth but with a promise of violence beneath it. His eyes bore into yours, and despite the coldness of Azkaban’s walls, a heat twisted in your chest. You swallowed against it, but it stayed lodged in your throat like a forbidden truth.

You kept your expression neutral, fighting the urge to shift in your seat, to break the tension. But Lorenzo could sense it—your discomfort, your curiosity, the tiny betrayals of your body. He leaned back slightly, as if to give you space, but it only made his presence more commanding. There was nowhere to hide.

“Want to know what makes me feel alive?” His voice dropped, curling around the words like he was letting you in on a dark, personal joke. He tilted his head, his eyes tracing a slow path over you, from the top of your head to where your hands rested, clenched slightly, on the table. “It’s taking control,” he purred, letting the word linger, heavy with implication.

“Control?” you repeated, voice steady, though it felt like you were speaking through cotton. “You’re bound in chains, Lorenzo. Not exactly in a position of power.”

That smile of his deepened, his amusement dark and tangible. He wasn’t the type to be provoked, not by something as obvious as his physical limitations. No, his control didn’t come from strength, from force—it came from something far more insidious. And he was using it now, in the way his gaze roamed over you, pulling at your defenses, testing just how far he could push.

“You think these chains mean anything?” His eyes sparkled with dark glee. “I take what I want. Always have, always will.” His voice softened, a dangerous purr. “And you know what’s better than control? Watching the happiness drain out of people like you. Girls like you…”

Your pulse spiked, a flash of heat prickling over your skin. He’d said it so casually, like it was nothing, but it hit you hard. The calm mask you wore cracked, just for a moment, before you could steady yourself again. You clenched your jaw, refusing to let him see the effect his words had on you. But Lorenzo noticed. He always noticed.

He shrugged, his gaze never leaving yours. “It’s the way it lights me up, you know? Makes me feel alive,” he said, his voice laced with an almost boyish nonchalance, as though the things he did, the lives he ruined, were merely a hobby. “And you, Dr. Y/L/N… you’re fascinating.” His gaze flickered down to the rapid flutter at your throat, as if he could hear your heartbeat from across the table.

You forced your spine to straighten, though the effort felt trivial. “It doesn’t matter what makes me feel alive,” you said, careful to keep your tone neutral, measured. “This isn’t about me.”

Lorenzo smiled—a slow, predatory grin that spread across his face with a kind of lazy satisfaction. “Oh, love,” he murmured, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “Right now, everything is about you.”

Your breath hitched before you could stop it, and his smile widened, like he’d caught you in a lie. His eyes followed the subtle movement of your throat, watching the pulse point there with unnerving focus. You could almost feel the weight of his gaze on your skin, like it pressed against the very place where your heartbeat betrayed you.

“Well, look at that,” he mumbled amusedly.

You forced yourself to sit back, feigning a calm you didn’t feel. “It’s just a physiological response,” you said, the words tight. You could feel your cheeks flush slightly, but you refused to look away from him, refused to let him have that power over you.

Lorenzo chuckled softly, leaning back as well, though his eyes never left yours. “Ah, yes, always so clinical, Doctor.” He tilted his head, considering you with a dark glimmer in his eyes, like he was enjoying this far more than he should. “But your body doesn’t lie, does it?”

Your breath caught again, a flash of frustration mingling with the heat spreading through you. No. You had to maintain control. “We need to talk about your notebook,” you said, voice firm.

For a moment, the playful glint in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something colder, something far more dangerous. His smile didn’t fade, but it sharpened, hardening into something unfeeling. “Always back to business, aren’t you?” he said, the warmth in his voice gone, replaced by a cold edge. He leaned back further, the chains on his wrists rattling softly as he shifted in his chair. “Very well, ask your questions.”

You swallowed, feeling the shift in the air between you. It was colder now, heavier, as if the playful façade had fallen away, revealing something darker beneath. You took a breath, willing yourself to remain steady. “Why did you keep a list of the women you targeted?”

His eyes darkened, his grin fading into something colder, almost predatory. “To remember them,” he said, his voice soft but chilling. “To remember every detail, every reaction.” His gaze flicked over you again, and this time it wasn’t playful or curious. It was calculating. “Because I like to keep my memories alive, just like I plan to keep this one.”

The room seemed to close in around you, the weight of his words pressing against your skin. You struggled to keep your voice even, to push through the unease settling over you. “But why target women?” you asked, your voice lower now, but steady.

Lorenzo’s lips curled into a smile again, but it was a different kind of smile—empty, devoid of any warmth. “Because women are fascinating,” he murmured, almost as if he were talking to himself. “They feel so deeply, so much warmer than men. The way they break… the way they fight before they shatter. It’s captivating.”

A chill slid down your spine, but you held his gaze, refusing to look away, even as your pulse raced beneath your skin.

For a moment, the silence between you was unbearable, stretching thick and heavy, the only sound the faint scrape of his chair as he shifted, eyes still locked on you with a dark, unblinking intensity. His gaze had become sharper, less playful, like he was peeling away layers you didn’t even realize you were wearing.

You forced yourself to remain steady, to focus on the role you were meant to play here. He was an inmate—a subject for analysis. He wasn’t someone who could get under your skin. He wasn’t allowed. But still, something about the deliberate cadence of his voice, the way he watched you so carefully, so… possessively—it twisted in your gut, a discomfort you couldn’t easily shake off.

“Captivating?” you finally said, your voice quiet, but not weak. You leaned in slightly. “Is that what you think this is? Some kind of… study?”

Lorenzo’s eyes gleamed, as if your attempt to turn the tables amused him more than it should have. He tilted his head, the chains clinking softly against the table as his fingers flexed. His smile softened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s exactly that,” he murmured. “People like you, you always think you’re the ones in control, don’t you? Coming into places like this, thinking you can untangle what’s inside the mind of a man like me.”

You didn’t flinch, but the way his voice curled around the word “control” made your pulse jump again. It was subtle, but he noticed. Of course he noticed. His gaze flickered briefly to the side of your neck, where the rhythm of your heartbeat betrayed you once more. His smile widened just a fraction, eyes gleaming with an unsettling delight.

“Physiological response,” he repeated, almost like a taunt. He leaned back in his chair, but the space between you felt even smaller than before, like his presence had grown larger, more oppressive. “You know, I don’t really care about the list,” he said, almost conversationally, as if the shift in subject meant nothing to him. “The names, the details… that’s for your records, not mine.”

You frowned slightly, taken aback by the ease with which he dismissed the topic. “So, it wasn’t important?”

Lorenzo’s gaze darkened, his smile fading once more into something colder. “I didn’t say that. It just wasn’t important in the way you think it is.” His eyes flicked to yours again, pinning you under their weight. “They were just names. Just faces. The real satisfaction comes after the fact.”

Your stomach tightened, the meaning of his words clear. You couldn’t help the way your breath caught slightly, though you hoped the flicker of fear didn’t show in your expression. He fed on reactions like that—thrived on them. “After the fact?” you repeated, trying to keep your voice even, though you could feel the edges fraying.

Lorenzo’s grin returned, sharper now, more predatory. “It’s not the act that matters,” he said, his voice soft, almost intimate. “It’s the memory of it. The way it lingers. That’s what I like to keep. The memory of how they looked when they finally understood…”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay present, forcing the cold, detached mask back over your face. “And what do you think you’re going to remember from this conversation?” you asked, pushing the words out before you could second-guess them. “Do you think you’ll walk away from here feeling satisfied? Like you’ve gained control?”

For the first time, Lorenzo’s smile faltered, just barely, a flicker of something unreadable flashing across his features. He seemed to be studying you again, his eyes scanning your face, your posture, the way your fingers had tightened slightly against the edge of the table.

When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, quieter. “That depends,” he murmured, “on how much you give me to remember.”

You leaned back slightly, breaking the eye contact for just a moment, just enough to gather yourself. The air between you felt thick, oppressive, as if the walls of the room had closed in even further, leaving you with nowhere to go.

“You’ll remember nothing,” you said firmly, meeting his gaze again, your voice steady despite the tension pulling at the edges of your composure. “Because I won’t give you anything.”

Lorenzo’s smile returned, slower this time. “We’ll see about that,” he said softly. His eyes gleamed, dark and predatory, as if he were already imagining the moment you would break.

But you wouldn’t. You couldn’t. You were here to analyze him, to understand him—not the other way around.

You shifted in your seat, the slight movement betraying the tension coiling tight in your muscles. He noticed, of course—his eyes never missed a thing. The faintest flicker of amusement passed over his features as you finally met his gaze again. There was no doubt in his mind that you were unraveling, that you were right on the edge of giving him what he wanted, even if you couldn’t quite name what that was.

But he was wrong.

You stood abruptly, the legs of the chair scraping harshly against the stone floor, the sound cutting through the thick tension like a knife. The movement felt final, decisive, and for the first time, you saw something shift in Lorenzo’s expression. His smirk faltered, just for a second, as if he hadn’t expected you to pull away so quickly, so completely.

He watched you rise, his gaze following your every move, but you refused to let it pin you down anymore. You were done with this—done with the game he was trying to play. Your heart still pounded in your chest, your nerves still thrummed with the aftershocks of his words, but you buried it all beneath a mask of cold professionalism. He wouldn’t see how much this had affected you. Not now. Not ever.

Without a word, you stepped toward the door, your movements steady. You could feel Lorenzo’s eyes boring into your back, that dark, predatory gaze following you even as you placed one hand on the cold metal handle. You hesitated, just for a moment, and in that brief pause, you heard him shift in his seat again, the soft clink of chains reminding you that, despite everything, he was still bound—still trapped.

“Leaving so soon?” His voice was low, almost mocking. He wasn’t in control anymore, not completely. You’d taken that from him the moment you stood up.

You didn’t turn around. “This session is over,” you said, your voice cold, professional, a stark contrast to the tangled mess of thoughts and emotions swirling beneath the surface.

Lorenzo chuckled softly, but it was a hollow sound. “Come now, love,” he murmured, the warmth from before gone, replaced by something sharper. “You’re not going to walk away without a proper goodbye, are you?”

“I’m not here for your games, Berkshire. You’ll get nothing from me.”

For a split second, there was silence. Then, the sound of chains clinking again as he shifted forward, the weight of his presence pressing closer despite the distance between you. “We both know that’s not true,” he said, his voice darker, quieter now. “You’ll be thinking about me long after you leave this room.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the handle until your knuckles whitened. He wasn’t wrong—not completely. He was already under your skin. But you wouldn’t let him know that.

Without another word, you pushed open the door. The cold draft from the hallway rushed in, hitting you like a breath of fresh air, a reminder that there was a world beyond this room—a world where that man’s hold on you didn’t exist.

You stepped through the threshold, the echo of your footsteps filling the narrow corridor as you moved further and further.

As the heavy door swung shut behind you with a loud, metallic clang, sealing him away in that cold, dark room, you felt a strange sense of relief. You’d left him there—alone, chained, and powerless, despite everything he’d tried to make you feel.

He was the one locked up. Not you.

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#lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x y/n #slytherin boys #harry potter #slytherin #kinktober #louis partridge #leona-hawthorne kinktober

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lovelytsunoda · 6 months ago

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indecent exposure // liam lawson

summary: some men should not be allowed to buy gag shirts when they go to vegas. liam lawson is not one of them. or, the liam face-sitting fic i've been ruminating on for months and never wrote.

pairing: liam lawson x female! reader

warnings: 18+!!! SMUT!!! porn with very minimal plot if i do say so myself. lots of double entendres for common police charges (disorderly conduct, indecent exposure etc.), liam refers to himself as 'agent lawson' and makes us all cringe with laughter. the actual face-sitting portion of the fic is really only a few paragraphs at the end lmao the foreplay was too fun with all the cop jokes-

author's note: somebody should take both my library card and every british detective show in existence away from me because this is what happens when i watch too many episodes of anything with a hot detective in it. never mind the fact that i binged lauren layne's new yorks finest series last year when i was snowed in and my classes were cancelled for almost a week

there was nothing that y/n loved more than coming home from a long day at work and taking her dress pants off. and her high heels, and her bra. typically this would be followed by a pint of ben and jerrys and a few episodes of 'grace and frankie'. sometimes it would be followed by a feel good eighties movie, or by her boyfriend ordering takeout and ravishing her while they waited for it to arrive.

all of these were good options, as far as y/n was concerned.

"hey babe!" liam shouted, darting across the hall from the small gym space they'd set up, to the master bedroom. "look what i found in the closet...jesus. you look gorgeous." he stopped in his tracks, eyes fixed on his goddess of a girlfriend as she stood in front of the gilded mirror next to the walk-in closet.

"you saw be before i left for work." she laughed, taking out the small diamond studs in her ears. they were a gift from liam for their anniversary. "all i've done is take off my slacks and bra, and undo my shirt a little bit."

but it wasn't the lack of pants that was getting liam all flustered, nor was it the way the collar of her silk work shirt dipped down just a little too far, the hem not quite long enough to cover the area where thigh met ass.

no, it was the black prada glasses that delicately framed her eyes. the eyes that had so captivated liam from the moment they met.

"if you ever decide to get contacts, i'm leaving you. seriously."

he wasn't serious in the slightest.

"the way you look in those glasses should be a crime. you're gorgeous, babe."

facing him, she laughed, hands on her hips. "i thought you threw that shirt out!"

she groaned internally, looking at the tight-fitting black cotton shirt that liam was wearing, and the cracking white vinyl lettering over his heart. fbi. a gag gift he had bought in vegas. it was too tight despite it's age, hugging each and every one of liam's muscles far too tight, and looking deceptively erotic when paired with his dark blue jeans.

"so did i! isn't it great?" he grinned like an idiot, spinning in a little circle to show off the writing on the back.

female body inspector.

who the fuck came up with these things? on any random guy in the street, she would have gagged at the vulgar implications of the words. on her boyfriend? she only rolled her eyes.

"there's a reason it went missing in the move, babe."

liam shook his head, ignoring her words. "ma'am, i'm special agent lawson from the federal bureau of investigations. i've received a complaint about disorderly conduct on the premises. and now that i'm here i might have to upgrade that charge to indecent exposure, little lady."

"you're such a fucking idiot." she giggled, looping her arms around her boyfriend's neck before kissing him softly. "i love you."

"love you more." he rasped in between kisses, his hands travelling underneath the hem of her shirt. "what do you say the two of us make a case for disturbing the peace?"

"if you make one more cop-related come on, i'm walking out that front door and never coming back."

liam flashed a shit-eating grin, raking his bleached blonde hair out of his face. "so does that mean you won't consent to a frisk search?"

"i will humor you this one time." she laughed, taking a step back. "take it away, agent. but you do realize that the fbi don't get to make disorderly conduct calls? that's a beat cop's job."

"i seem to recall that you have a right to remain silent?"

she winked, undoing another button on her shirt, the fabric falling away just enough to give liam a glimpse of the soft flesh of her breasts. "and i don't recall being read my rights."

"hands against the wall, feet shoulder width apart, you beautiful smartass." liam laughed, waiting for her to turn slightly before playfully swatting at her backside. "then i can read them to you."

the wall was cold against her palms as she got into position, listening half-heartedly as liam attempted to remember the american miranda rights. he got about as far as 'you have the right to remain silent' and 'you have the right to an attorney' before he gave up.

"you know what, this isn't that serious. fuck the right to remain silent, you have the right to remain sexy as fuck. how about that." she could hear the playful annoyance in his voice, and couldn't help the smile that broke out across her face.

there was the liam she knew and loved. not one to mince words, even in the bedroom.

his smooth hands were a welcome presence on her body, travelling up her legs, over her hips and up the sides of her torso. torturously slow, his warm hands dipped underneath her shirt, taking her breasts in his hands, her peaked nipples between his fingers.

heat rose to her skin, adding a rosy sheen in the halflight. she sighed under his touch, her head dropping back to rest on liam's shoulder. liam smiled fondly, one of his hands reaching for hers, the other dropping to cradle her waist.

"you're beautiful." he hummed, kissing her neck gently. "i hope you know that."

this was a side of liam that only she ever got to see. on the outside, he gave off frat boy energy: the hair, the way he carried himself. the way he spoke. but just under the surface, was a man who was wrapped around his girlfriend's finger. one who loved shamelessly, and with his whole heart.

pulling away from the wall, the turned in his hold to face him, tangling her hands in his hair and kissing him deeply.

"if you can get that shirt off without tearing a stitch, you can keep it."

liam beamed, breaking from the embrace to scramble for the hem of the worn t-shirt. he had almost gotten it over his head when he heard the first few stitches begin to pop, fabric getting stuck by his shoulders.

"fuck!"

"need some help with that?"

"i think i'm good!"

somehow they ended up on the bed, both half dressed and pent up. she was soaked through her thong, despite her earlier attitude towards the t-shirt and further proving the point that her lover looked good in just about anything (or nothing, for that matter). she was needy, every nerve in her body reacting to the way liam's tongue probed her mouth, the way his hands touched her body. the way he moaned when she pressed up against the bulge in his jeans.

"babe," he mumbled in between kisses. "do you trust me?"

she cocked an eyebrow, brushing his bangs out of his face before looking down at him "should i be worried?"

"do you trust me, yes or no?"

"of course, li. of course i trust you."

liam nodded. "good. so sit on my face."

she paused, almost as if her brain was sending up error messages. she knew this day would come. liam lawson would eat pussy any which way. truthfully, she was shocked this day hadn’t come sooner.

it wasn’t that she didn’t want to. of course she wanted to.

“babe, how will you be able to breathe? I’ll suffocate you.” she protested, reaching for his hand. “I don’t want that on my conscience.”

“sweetheart, it’s okay. you won’t hurt me. and if-god forbid-I do suffocate, trust me on this, I wouldn’t want to go out any other way than with your thighs on either side of my head.”

and with that, liam took her hands in his, and guided her towards where he needed her most. she looked down at him with a soft smile, running her fingers through his hair.

"i love you." she whispered, moving her hands to the headboard and beginning to lower herself down to meet her lovers tongue.

she inhaled sharply as she made contact, liam's plump lips mouthing at her pussy, her grip tightening on the wooden headboard.

"i've got you, princess." liam's voice was muffled, but his words were reassuring as he ran a hand up and down her thigh. "just ride my face, darlin'. use my tongue to get yourself off."

feeling bolder than she was when she first sat down, she began to grind on liam's face, his nose bumping against her swollen clit with each movement. every bit of friction, every swipe of liam's tongue drove her wild, was like setting fire to her nerve endings.

"oh sweet jesus, god." she whined, fighting the urge to close her thighs together around liam's head, focussing on the way his hands gripped her thighs in a bruising way. she looked down at his face and moaned again, seeing the pleasure mapped out on her boyfriend's features.

"oh, i'm in heaven." he moaned, pulling her down further to plunge his tongue inside of her, rapidly flicking it inside and out.

her eyes rolled back as her hips bucked, grinding against the tip of his nose as one hand came down to clutch at his hair. tears of pleasure pricked the corners of her eyes as she cried out his name.

"liam- right there, oh my god, keep doing that." she whined, trying to move her hips faster. liam's face was soaked, the entire bottom half coated in her juices. there was so much of it, running down the sides of his cheeks and soaking into the pillowcase behind him.

she felt so good she could barely see, screwing her eyes shut. her pants and whines became closer together and more high pitched, the movement of her hips more frantic as she chased that feeling, that high.

"are you going to cum for me, baby?" liam asked, pulling his face away from her. she continued to drip onto his face, and he opened his mouth wide, catching some of her slick on his tongue. "come on my face. please, i want to be drowning in it."

and how could she say no to that?

she could barely keep her shoulders straight as she resumed her motions, fingers gripping liam's hair to keep herself steady. his hands grasped desperately at the flesh of her ass cheeks, squeezing and massaging as one of her own hands came up to grasp at one of her tits, teasing the peaked nipple between her fingers.

"oh god, liam, i think i'm coming!"

"i've got you, i've got you. just breathe-"

his last word was cut off with a moan as she began to gush, coating his face in her release. his moans were muffled by the weight of her body, but they were no less loud as he set about licking her clean.

her legs felt like jello and her body like mush as liam tried to sit up, easing her body back so that she was sitting in his lap, wet core right over top of the massive bulge in his jeans. liam was certain that if she moved at all while she was on top of him, he'd come in his jeans. totally spent, she slumped against him, resting her head on his chest.

he leaned down to kiss her sweaty forehead and she scrunched up her face. she looked adorable in her fogged-up glasses with her messy hair. and liam couldn't stop his heart from melting as she reached for the box of tissues in the nightstand and began to clean up his face.

"that was incredible." her voice was soft as she cleaned him up. "i had no idea you could do that."

"don't give me all the credit." liam laughed, playfully nipping at her fingers as she moved to wipe his mouth down. "you played a very large part in why i'm still hard right now."

she laughed, a big smile on her face as she looped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him softly. with his large hands holding her in place, they kissed again. sweet, chaste and soft, with no intention of it leading anywhere else.

at least, not this early in the evening.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @libraryofloveletters @cartierre @lorarri @userlando @diorleclerc

#liam lawson x reader #liam lawson smut #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 smut #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 x reader #Spotify

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muiitoloko · 6 months ago

Text

Dressing room

Summary: Judge Turpin was insatiable and always looked for an opportunity to have you, even if it was in a dressing room at a suit store.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut

Author's Notes: Just a glimpse into the early days of the Turpin marriage, from the series "Love?" Although honestly, I saw this one-shot as rubbish. I think I'm getting bad at writing. 😅

First, Second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth and ninth part here.

You sat alone in the opulent suit shop, surrounded by mannequins dressed in rich, elaborate suits that bespoke a life you had never imagined. The shop was grand, with polished wood floors and walls lined with shelves of tailored garments. But despite the luxury, a shiver ran down your spine as you glanced around nervously, feeling out of place in this foreign world.

It had only been two weeks since your marriage to Richard Turpin, a man who struck fear into your heart with his cold, unyielding demeanor and imposing presence. His hooked nose and baritone voice seemed to echo through your mind, a constant reminder of his dominance over your life now.

Turpin had brought you to London from your small village, promising a life of wealth and security. Yet, as you stood here in this shop, waiting for him to finish trying on suits, you couldn't shake the feeling of dread that accompanied you wherever you went.

The loyal employee, a man named Beadle Bamford, stood nearby, his sharp eyes fixed on you as if he were watching for any signs of disobedience. His presence unnerved you; he was a reminder of the control Turpin had over you, even in public places like this.

You glanced down at your hands, your wedding band catching the light. Turpin never let you forget that he owned you now, body and soul. He kept you on a tight leash, allowing you out of the house only when he was by your side. It was suffocating.

The sound of a door being opened broke your reverie, and you looked up to see Turpin emerging from the dressing area, adjusting the cuffs of a fine silk shirt under a dark, tailored suit jacket. His expression was stern, eyes cold as he examined his reflection in the mirror. He seemed pleased with his appearance, a dangerous glint in his eye that made you shiver.

"Is this to your liking, my dear?" Turpin asked, his voice low and demanding as he turned to face you. His words were meant to sound polite, but they carried an undercurrent of authority that left no room for disagreement.

"Yes, it looks very nice," you replied softly, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fear rising within you.

Turpin nodded, satisfied with your response, and turned to tailor. "We'll take this one," he stated firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

The tailor nodded deferentially, his eyes flicking briefly to you before he turned to retrieve the suit from its display. As he disappeared into the back of the shop, you felt Turpin's gaze bore into you once more, his expression unreadable.

"You've been very well-behaved today," Turpin remarked, his voice deceptively calm as he took a step closer to you. "I trust you're learning to appreciate the finer things in life."

You nodded silently, unsure of what he wanted from you. The truth was, you were still struggling to adjust to this new life, surrounded by opulence and luxury that felt more like a gilded cage than anything else.

Turpin reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek in a gesture that should have been tender, but instead sent a shiver of dread down your spine. His touch was possessive, a silent reminder of the control he had over you.

When the tailor returned, you watched Turpin talk to him in a low voice. The exchange was too quiet for you to hear. The tailor nodded before walking away, disappearing into the back of the shop. Turpin turned to his assistant, barking a single sharp command at Beadle: "Go away!" Beadle complied without question, his demeanor subservient as he scurried off to attend to his master's bidding.

Alone in the store with Turpin, you felt a sense of unease settle over you like a suffocating blanket. His presence was suffocating, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over you as he approached, his eyes fixed on you with a predatory gleam.

Suddenly, Turpin grabbed your hand and pulled you with him into the dressing room, his grip firm and unyielding as he led you away from prying eyes. You stumbled after him, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to keep up with his brisk pace.

Once inside the dressing room, Turpin closed the door behind him with a decisive click, the sound echoing in the small space with ominous finality. You watched him warily, your nerves on edge as you waited for him to speak.

"Why are we here?" you questioned, your voice trembling with nervousness as you eyed Turpin warily. "What do you want from me?"

Turpin silenced you with a cold, calculating look, his eyes glinting with a mixture of desire and dominance. "I paid the tailor good money to leave us alone," he explained, his voice low and commanding as he stepped closer to you. "I have no intention of wasting this opportunity to fuck you."

You were shocked by your husband's shamelessness, yet another reminder of his brazen and insatiable nature. Despite your protests, Turpin paid you no mind, his intentions clear as he reached out to pull you closer to him.

And as he pressed you against the wall of the dressing room, his hands roamed over your body with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. You tried to protest, not wanting to engage in such intimate acts in such a public place, but Turpin's relentless advances left you powerless to resist.

With a rough tug, Turpin lifted your skirts, his fingers fumbling with the laces of your undergarments as he prepared to take you right then and there. You pleaded with him to stop, to show some restraint, but your words fell on deaf ears as Turpin's desire overpowered any sense of reason or decency.

But as Turpin dropped to his knees before you, instructing you to keep your skirts up, you nodded, a little stunned to see your powerful husband on his knees in front of you. But before you could fully comprehend the situation, he surprised you once again as he buried his face between your legs.

You gasped in surprise as you felt his warm breath against your skin, his tongue tracing delicate patterns along your folds. It was a strange sensation, one you had never experienced before, but you found yourself enjoying the unexpected pleasure as Turpin eagerly tasted you.

His movements were skilled and determined, his tongue exploring every inch of your sensitive flesh as he sought to please you. You arched your back in response, a moan escaping your lips as he found just the right angle to send waves of pleasure coursing through you.

With one of your legs draped over his shoulder, Turpin had a better angle to delve deeper, his ministrations becoming more fervent as he sought to elicit even more pleasure from you. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he devoured you with a hunger that left you breathless.

"Richard," you gasped, your voice trembling with desire as you looked down at him with lust-filled eyes. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

Turpin's only response was a low growl of approval as he redoubled his efforts, his tongue working tirelessly to bring you to the brink of ecstasy. With each flick and swirl, he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, his own desire evident in the fervor of his movements.

Turpin continued to pleasure you with his tongue. He couldn't help but revel in the taste of your essence, his curiosity piqued by the unfamiliar sensation. Despite his usual aversion to oral sex, he found himself enjoying the experience. His tongue delved deep inside you as he thrust with a fervor that mirrored his desire to possess you completely.

And as you moaned and writhed above him, Turpin felt a sense of satisfaction wash over him, knowing that he was the one bringing you to such heights of pleasure. He teased your clit with his hooked nose, the sensation driving you wild with desire as you begged for more.

But when you finally reached the peak of ecstasy, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm, Turpin knew it was time to move on to the next phase of their encounter. With a satisfied smirk, he stood up, undoing the pants of his expensive suit to reveal his cock, already hard and throbbing with anticipation.

"Get on your knees and bend over," Turpin instructed, his voice commanding as he gestured towards one of the benches in the dressing room. You obeyed without hesitation, still limp from your earlier orgasm as Turpin fell to his knees behind you.

With one hand, Turpin spread your ass cheeks wide, his gaze fixed on your little hole with a hunger that made you shiver with anticipation. He wanted nothing more than to plunge into you right then and there, to claim you in every way possible. But he knew he had to be patient, to prepare you properly for what was to come.

For now, he contented himself with your dripping pussy, which he had trained so well since marrying you. With a low growl of desire, Turpin thrust into you with a force that made you cry out in pleasure, the sound echoing in the small confines of the dressing room.

"You're mine, my dear," Turpin growled, his voice dripping with possessiveness as he claimed you as his own. "And I'm going to make you scream my name."

With each thrust, Turpin drove you closer and closer to the edge, his cock filling you completely as he claimed you as his own. And as you surrendered to the pleasure of his touch, you couldn't help but moan in ecstasy, your body trembling with the force of your desire as Turpin ravished you with a passion that left you breathless and begging for more.

Turpin leaned into you, his chest pressing against your back as he panted in your ear, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. "Soon, my dear," he whispered, his voice low and husky with desire. "Soon, I'll fuck all your holes until you're begging for mercy."

You whimpered with each thrust, the pleasure overwhelming as Turpin claimed you as his own. But before you could fully comprehend his words, he silenced you with a firm hand pressed against your throat, his eyes burning with possessiveness as he imagined other people hearing the sweet sounds of your pleasure.

"No one else gets to hear these sounds," Turpin growled, his voice laced with possessive desire. "They're mine, and mine alone. I'll kill any man who dares to lay eyes on you or hear you moan like this."

And as he continued to ravish you with a ferocity that left you breathless, you surrendered to the pleasure of his touch, your trained pussy accepting his dick with eager anticipation. With each thrust, each moan of pleasure, you knew that you belonged to him completely, body and soul, and that there was no escaping his grasp.

Turpin continued to ravish you. His grip on your throat tightened, and his fingers dug into your skin with a possessiveness that left you breathless. You gasped for air, your heart pounding in your chest as Turpin's mouth pressed against your ear. His hot breath sent shivers down your spine.

"You're mine, my dear," Turpin growled, his voice low and husky with desire. "Mine to use, mine to fuck. Your pussy was made for me, and soon your ass will be too."

You whimpered in response, the pleasure of his touch overwhelming as he claimed you as his own. Turpin's cock pounded into you relentlessly, each thrust driving you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

With one hand still wrapped around your throat, Turpin used his free hand to guide yours to his cock, urging you to stroke him in time with his movements. You obeyed without hesitation, your fingers trembling with desire as you pleasured him with eager enthusiasm.

"That's it, my dear," Turpin murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction as he felt your hand working his shaft. "Stroke me just like that. You're such a good little slut for me."

You moaned in response, the filthy words sending waves of pleasure coursing through you as Turpin's cock filled you completely. With each thrust, each moan of pleasure, you knew that you belonged to him completely, body and soul, and that there was no escaping his grasp.

As Turpin approached the peak of his own pleasure, he leaned in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered his filthy desires.

"I'm going to come inside you, my dear," Turpin growled, his voice laced with possessive desire. "And you're going to take every last drop, like a good little whore."

You whimpered in response, your body trembling with anticipation as Turpin's cock pounded into you with increasing ferocity. And as he finally reached the brink of ecstasy, you felt him explode inside you, his hot seed filling you to the brim as he claimed you as his own once more.

You cried out in pleasure as you felt the warmth of his release, your own orgasm crashing over you in waves as you surrendered to the pleasure of his touch. And as you lay there in his arms, spent and satisfied, you knew that there was no escaping the clutches of the man who had claimed you as his own.

Turpin held you close, his grip on your throat loosening as he pressed kisses against your skin, his touch surprisingly gentle despite his usual cruelty. He pulled out of you, slipping out with a wet sound before releasing you, letting you fall limply to the floor as he stood up, quickly changing into his normal suit.

You stayed on the floor, catching your breath, feeling a mix of physical and emotional exhaustion. When Turpin realized this, he ordered you to get up and compose yourself.

"Get up," he commanded sharply, his voice cutting through the silence of the dressing room.

You obeyed, slowly getting to your feet and smoothing down your crumpled skirts. You picked up your underwear from the floor, putting them on quickly before watching Turpin tie his tie in front of the full-length mirror. You stood next to him, the silence between you thick with unspoken tension.

As he adjusted his tie, you surprised him by stepping closer and hugging him from behind. It took him by surprise; in the two weeks you had been married, you had never initiated such a gesture. He stiffened slightly under your touch, his back straightening as he glanced at you through the reflection in the mirror.

"What are you doing?" Turpin asked sharply, his voice laced with suspicion.

You didn't let go, your cheek pressed against his back as you murmured softly, "I don't know. I just felt like it."

Turpin remained rigid for a moment, seemingly caught off guard by your unexpected action. His demeanor softened ever so slightly, though his voice retained its edge. "Don't be foolish," he replied gruffly, but he didn't shrug you off. Instead, he allowed you to hold onto him as he continued to adjust his tie.

You stayed like that for a few moments longer, feeling the tension between you begin to ease, if only slightly. Turpin didn't push you away, allowing you to draw comfort from the embrace, however fleeting it might be.

When he finished with his tie, Turpin gently extricated himself from your embrace and turned to face you, his expression unreadable. "Compose yourself," he ordered again, though his voice lacked its usual harshness.

You nodded silently, smoothing your hands over your skirts once more, trying to regain some sense of composure. Turpin watched you for a moment longer before turning away, dismissing the moment as quickly as it had come.

As he walked toward the dressing room door, you followed suit, feeling a mix of confusion and relief. The encounter had been brief, but for a moment, you had glimpsed a different side of Richard Turpin, a side that was not solely driven by cruelty and control.

You knew that such moments would be rare, but in that brief embrace, you had found a glimmer of hope that perhaps, in time, there could be more to your marriage than fear and domination.

Turpin opened the door and gestured for you to exit first, his demeanor reverting to its usual sternness. You stepped out into the shop, feeling a renewed resolve to navigate this new life, however uncertain and terrifying it might be.

As you left the shop together, you glanced at Turpin out of the corner of your eye, wondering what lay ahead for you both. The streets of London stretched out before you, a maze of possibility and danger, and as you walked beside your husband, you knew that you would have to tread carefully to survive.

But for now, you clung to the fleeting comfort of that brief embrace, hoping that it might signal a change, however small, in the harsh reality of your life with Richard Turpin.

#alan rickman #alan rickman x reader #judge turpin x reader #judge turpin #sweeney todd

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mothhball · 8 months ago

Note

Hiii! Your writing for Neil is so fantastic thank you for your service <3 📼 could you maybe write one with Neil and reader Pool hopping in the summer and they have to make a run for it so they’re not caught? (Maaaybe forced proximity, friends to lovers or established relationship, some fluff, some smut.. whatever your heart desires) have a safe train ride!!!

Pairing | Neil Lewis x fem!Reader

Warnings | sickly sweet fluff! brief smut, p in v sex, pool sex, friends to lovers, Neil and Reader are very silly

Summary | pool hopping and dramatics

Words | 2k

Notes | thanks for the request!! <33 I hope the formatting works, I'm posting on mobile

MINORS DNI

"I don't know, Nels..." you glance down at the water with a skeptical twitch of your eyebrow before you decide to dip your toe in. Immediately, you pull back.

"Gah! How is it this cold? I'm cooking out here!" Neil laughs at your complaints, wiping the sweat off his brow as he watches you with fond eyes. It's easy to forget that this pool isn't even yours. Neither is this property. But you went in the middle of the day on purpose, making sure that there was no car in the driveway and no one was home.

"You need to go in quickly, that'll make it easier. Come here, I'll help you," he offers, and at first glance, he seems helpful enough. Neil is presenting himself as deceptively harmless, but the mischievous glint in his eyes is enough to make you shake your head and take a step back. You know what he's planning. You've seen that expression countless times before, know every detail of his face as closely as your own. Yet neither of you has dared to cross that final line between platonic and... something more. Maybe you're both cowards. Always tip-toeing around the what ifs and not having the guts to give the thing between you a proper name. To any outsider, you might as well be dating already. It's just that the memo hasn't reached Neil nor yourself just yet.

"Don't you dare. Stay away from me." You try to fight against the grin that's growing on your face, but the rush of dopamine is too strong.

Neil slowly stalks towards you, opening his arms. "What? I'm not doing anything... don't be like that." He pretends to take offense to your hesitation, lips pulling down into a playfully dramatic frown as he creeps closer around the edge of the pool.

"You're going in."

Before either of you know it, he's chasing you around the backyard, bare feet sprinting over the grass. You're both laughing your heads off like idiots, trying hard to outsmart the other. Eventually though, Neil closes the distance, and he wraps his arms around your waist, squeezing you to keep you from escaping.

"Got you!"

Despite your half-hearted protests, he drags you back over to the edge of the pool, dipping you dangerously low towards the surface of the water.

"Any last words?" He teases, offering you one last chance at mercy as a triumphant smirk pulls at his lips. In that moment, you know you have to try and mess with him to wipe that expression off his face. You know he has strong opinions about anything regarding pop culture, so you just decide to go for it.

"Star Wars is better than Star Trek." Silence. Those are definitely fighting words, and you're able to witness how Neil's expression twists in real time. This is no longer just bantering. This is about honor now.

"I'm sure you didn't just say that. Take it back," he demands, narrowing his eyes at you. But you stay stubborn, shaking your head. A somber expression settles on your face, and there's a crackle of dramatic energy between the two of you.

"You may come out of this victorious, but at least I spoke my truth. And you will never take that from me."

Neil immediately picks up on your eccentricities, happily joining in. His tone becomes icy as he gets into character, playing the role of your summery executioner quite well.

"Your truth is wrong. You'd have to be blind to ignore the intricacies in the world-building and the far more fleshed-out character arcs and coherent storytelling," he hisses, giving your waist a little squeeze to drive his point home. You wheeze in response.

"Star Trek is far more rooted in scientific facts. Star Wars is for chicks with mask kinks. So take. It. Back." In a moment that couldn't be staged more perfectly than this, a breeze wafts through the backyard, tousling Neil's hair and driving a shiver up your spine.

"You're a fool, Neil. A fool," you murmur, glaring at him like he's committing the ultimate betrayal.

"Is it a sin to enjoy the whimsical nature of nonsensical physics? Is it a sin to witness man's creativity in scenarios that are absurd and stupid? Is it a sin to watch silly little men with silly little helmets?"

You look off into the distance, pausing for dramatic effect.

"If that's the case, then I accept my punishment."

"Then your punishment shall be the pit." With that, he lets go of you, causing you to plunge into the pool below in a scene that would truly be Oscar-worthy. The cool water surrounds you, but the warmth in your chest remains. Neil was right. It really is easier to go in fast and all at once. You’ve been hesitating for far too long, denying yourself relief and enjoyment.

A push. That's all what was missing.

Neil jumps in right after you, bringing you back up to the surface with his gentle hands on your skin as he holds you up bridal-style. Of course, he's still in character.

"Oh God... what have I done... talk to me. Talk to me, damnit!"

You try to stay as limp as possible, but it only takes a moment for the both of you to start laughing again. Your heart hasn’t felt this light in a long, long time. But with Neil, it might as well be soaring up into the cloudless sky.

"We're so stupid," you manage to get out between giggles, and Neil just shrugs in response, looking down at you with a grin so bright that he could pass off as your own personal sun.

"Maybe. But there's no one else I'd rather be stupid with."

You're not sure if he knows what kind of impact his words have on you, and as you look up at him to meet his eyes, a moment of silence settles over the two of you. Both of you just study each other for a while. Curious, as if you've only met for the first time, and your heart wanders further up into your throat with every passing second.

Neil breaks the spell first, swallowing heavily, and a drop of water falls from his hair to land right on your cheek where his gentle thumb wipes it away.

"You make me nervous."

You blink in response, not sure how to take this comment, but he's generous enough to continue and elaborate.

"I never know how to act around you... I... I love being around you, but God, my self-control is being tested every time we hang out," he confesses, and you spot the hint of a lovely pink on his cheeks. Is this the part where you get your hopes up?

"Maybe you shouldn't hold yourself back from... doing whatever it is that you want to do? Maybe... maybe doing it would be a good thing?" You test the waters, and to your delight, Neil leans down to rest his forehead against yours, his voice lowering to a soft murmur.

"Yeah?"

“Yeah. Just… take the plunge, Neil.”

He nods at your words. Slowly, thoughtfully. And he bites his lip, studying the way the light hits your eyes. Eyes that he could get lost in for hours on end. The last distance between the two of you closes almost by itself, and pretty quickly, you are locked in a kiss that’s almost as heated as the sun that’s blasting down on you. Neil still has you in his arms, touching and feeling you with the desperation of a man that has been deprived of the thing he’s been wanting for years. Which would be nothing but the truth.

Your shaking hands are tangled in his dripping hair, gently tugging at his scalp which causes him to groan against your tongue and pull you over to press you up against the edge of the pool. The water splashes around you, and your nose is filled with the scent of chlorine and the sunscreen that you forced on Neil earlier. Stubborn idiot. But as it turns out, he’s now your stubborn idiot. For a blissfully long moment, you get to make out with him, and your world shrinks down in size, encompassing just the two of you. His heaving chest against yours, his skin beneath your fingers, and his hands that reach under your knees and hold you up against his body.

A soft moan slips from your lips as he dares to pull your bikini bottoms to the side to slip his dick inside of you. And fuck, does it feel right. You should’ve done this ages ago, but now, the reward feels even sweeter. Neil whispers your name against your throat, setting an impatient pace of thrusts as he fucks into your fluttering pussy, and you hold onto him with your nails slightly digging into his back. It’s easy to forget that he was just your friend a few minutes ago. Just as easy as it is to miss the noise of a car pulling into the driveway. The driveway that belongs to the property. The property that you’re trespassing on. Neil perks up at the sound of a door slamming shut, and he curses under his breath.

“Fuck – hold your breath.”

You barely get the chance to fill your lungs with precious oxygen before he dives beneath the pool’s surface with you in his arms. Just in time before the owner of the house steps outside to check out the backyard. From his angle, you’re just barely obscured and distorted by the water. An optical illusion that, if explained, would surely have someone clutching their pearls. The homeowner pauses on the patio for a minute, and in the meantime, Neil is getting impatient. You can feel him throbbing inside of you, sneakily rocking his hips against yours in a tiny motion that’s enough to make your toes curl. In response, you tug on his hair, causing him to still once more. Your lungs are burning, and you clench your eyes shut, praying that the guy whose pool you’re “borrowing” just leaves already.

And, in a twist of sweet, sweet fate, he does. There’s a brief reflection of light as the glass sliding door to the living room of the house opens and closes once more, and Neil slowly pops his head up before giving you the go as well. Immediately, you resurface, both gasping for air, but grinning from ear to ear. Neil is panting, giving your thighs a quick squeeze before he pulls away from you, putting you back down.

“We need to leave,” he gasps. “Right now.”

It’s a daring escape, and as much as you try to stay quiet, both Neil and yourself start to giggle while you’re still getting out of the pool. Someone – most definitely the owner of the property – shouts and curses after you while you scramble to grab your things, and you almost get caught as Neil helps you climb over the wooden fence before you manage to dash off, hand in hand.

He pulls you along, and you can hear your heartbeat drumming in your ears, along with the pitter patter of your bare feet down the street and your breathless laughter. The heat quickly dries your skin, and you’re still grinning brightly as you reach Neil’s car that he parked a few streets away. Finally, finally, the two of you manage to catch your breath, and he reaches out to smooth his thumb over your jaw. A silent gesture of affection that he’s done a thousand times. But now, the context is a different one. For a moment, Neil is lost in your smile and your eyes, before he manages to catch himself, remembering how to speak.

“You know… we’re partners in crime now. Can I count on you to keep this between us?”

A breathy laugh is your answer, and now it’s your turn to bite your lip.

“I’m sure we can think of a few ways to keep each other’s mouths shut.”

@ellebelleshelby @cilliansprincess @mcumorningstar @x0xomady @mandies24

@detroitbecomevenom @pretty-bluebird @ink5ouls @flwrs4aust @vampmary1411

@ashdrinksoatmilk @luvizuku @nnattu @ptolemaniac @kiss-me-cill-me @celebrities-imagines @hanawrites404 @red-riding-wood

#cillian murphy x reader #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis smut #neil lewis #neil lewis x you #watching the detectives #.moth writes

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muddyorbsblr · 1 year ago

Text

circumstances of succumbency [kinktober 2023: bath/shower]

See the full Kinktober 2023 Collection here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: You and Magnus get stranded on the road while working a case and sought shelter at an inn that only had one room left. And one bed.

Pairing: older!Magnus Martinsson x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, kindly exit stage left I'll only ask nicely once); unprotected p in v sex; slight mention to masturbation/wankst; language; Magnus is her superior/boss so there's a bit of a power dynamic going on [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: coworkers to lovers; mutual pining; one bed only trope; translations in the Author's Notes

Dick-tionary (aka smut guide): When Magnus says "I won't have you apologizing", the smut starts. Proceed with caution.

"We're not going to be of any use to this case sleep-deprived and dragging this car through a snowstorm, Y/L/N. We should find some shelter and start fresh in the morning, and hopefully the weather will be a bit more agreeable."

Those were the famous last words that hammered in several nails to your coffin. You were still about an hour's drive away from the residence of a person of interest in your current case, but with the current state of the weather, you were more likely to get stranded in the middle of the road with a broken down engine than actually make it to your destination if you two stubbornly kept on your drive.

That was how you two ended up at a cozy little inn, the lady at the front desk shamelessly checking out Detective Superintendent Martinsson while she tried to book two rooms for you. A disappointed scowl painted her face as she told you both that there was only one room left for the night. With one bed.

Of course this happens, you grumbled internally. One room, one bed, one horny Y/N.

He tried to be a gentleman and offered you the bed, clearly uncomfortable with the whole arrangement as well. But after you both realized that there was no other furniture that the towering older man could somehow pretzel-fold himself into and sleep in for the night, you simply agreed that you'd pick a side of the bed and put the entire situation out of your minds come morning.

You distinctly remembered putting a considerable effort to count sheep and make your mind shut off despite the biting cold, slipping into slumber a shivering curled up heap on your side of the bed, one wrong move away from falling off and flopping onto the hard wood floor. So why was it that when you opened your eyes, the morning sun barely shining through the heavy clouds, you were deceptively comfortable and warm, with an arm wrapped around you and holding you against the lean and muscular body of the man that had been invading your most vivid scandalous dreams on a nightly basis?

This isn't happening this isn't happening, you tried to tell yourself, trying not to lean in to his warm embrace despite every cell in your body literally screaming to do exactly that. You're still dreaming, Y/N, it's time to wake up. He shuffled even closer to you, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck, and let out a sigh that sounded like he was almost…contented. The feel had you putting your fist to your mouth and biting down on your skin to refrain from making a sound.

Much as this was exactly where you fantasized about being when you were in the safety of your own home, you knew you had to squirm out of his sleep-laden embrace. You slipped your hand into his and tried to guide his arm up and away from your waist, only to have him reflexively pull out of your hold and go right back to holding you, shuffling even closer and letting out a whining sound as if he was bargaining to stay asleep for a few more minutes.

Before you could try again, you froze in his embrace when you felt his lips press a kiss to the back of your neck, followed by a near-reverent whisper of your name. You bit harder into your skin in a desperate attempt to hold back a moan as he kept on kissing a trail to your shoulder in lazy movements, obviously being guided by his sleep-adled brain.

Which had a little voice in your head screaming the question: If he was moving and talking the way he did because of his dream, then why did he say your name?

You didn't give yourself the time to mull it over, not willing to risk staying a second longer and having him wake up and have the sight of his disgust and shame seared into your memory. As fast as you could manage, you lifted his arm off you and rolled away from him, situating yourself again on the very edge of the bed and pretending that sleep still had its hooks in you.

Despite having slept in a bed that wasn't his own partnered with the undue stress of being stranded by means of a rather nasty snowstorm, Magnus had slept rather peacefully through the night. He was blessed with a rather blissful dream where by some miracle you didn't turn him away after he'd confessed his feelings for you. You even returned them.

And before you two headed off for work, he held you in bed and got to rouse you from your sleep with teasing kisses to your neck. The dream had felt so real that the image might stay with him to keep him company in the cold nights to come after closing this case with you.

When he woke in your shared room at the inn and saw you curled up at the edge of the bed, he wanted nothing more than to turn that dream into reality and pull you into his embrace. He was only stopped by the dreadful thought of how you could possibly react to such intimacy.

Probably with a right hook, a resignation letter, and a sexual harassment lawsuit in that order, you idiotic knob, he hissed at himself, sighing as he shrugged the covers off him and decided to check if the roads were clear enough to resume driving in a few hours.

He walked around the bed and couldn't resist the urge to take his covers and drape them over your own after seeing how you visibly shivered in your sleep. You let out an unintelligible sound while he was tucking the covers around you. "I'm up, I'm up," you mumbled, shifting around groggily.

"We don't have to leave yet," he spoke softly, doing his best not to wake you fully. "Just gonna check if it's safe to go back on the road." He moved your hair away from your face, a warmth spreading through his body upon seeing how serene you seemed in sleep. "You can rest a little while longer, sweet girl."

You let out a long exhale, a tiny contented smile playing at the corner of your mouth when you relaxed and leaned into his touch. He couldn't resist the urge to hold you just so for a few moments longer, nor the urge to press the lightest kiss between your brows before he stood and walked out of the room.

Mercifully the roads seemed much clearer and you two could probably resume your drive and your investigation in a few hours. Before that, though, he needed to go for a run. And hopefully keep all those intrusive thoughts of returning to your room and giving into his desires at bay. Sleeping in the same bed with you had blurred the lines of your relationship so dangerously that it took everything in him to remind himself that you deserved so much better than to have him shatter your trust in him by taking advantage of you and this situation.

"She deserves better than this. Better than you," he grumbled as he walked to his car to take out his running shoes.

With every pound of his feet on the pavement he tried to put it out of his mind the image of just how beautiful and peaceful you looked in bed. Tried to beat into submission the urge to crawl back under the covers next to you and roll the dice. The fantasy that perhaps if he pressed his body to yours your response would be to settle into his embrace. To press back.

Before he knew it three laps around the property turned into five. Then seven. Then ten. At the end of the tenth lap, Magnus somehow convinced himself that the distance he'd covered had placed a physical distance between him and the taunting image of you sleeping on the bed you two had shared last night.

He figured as well that enough time had passed and perhaps you'd woken up of your own accord, and you'd be alert and ready to get back on the road with him and get closer to cracking open the investigation.

There were two things that Magnus noticed once he'd returned to your shared room. First, you were out of bed, which only gave him the most temporary relief from the fantasies that were taunting him ever since he made the most foolish mistake of agreeing with you that you were both grown adults that could handle sharing a bed for the night while you were stranded.

The relief didn't last long because second, he heard the shower running. And now he struggled to even breathe knowing that mere feet away behind that closed bathroom door, you were naked and wet. And he wanted nothing more than to peel off the sweat-soaked layers of clothing on him and bring his daydreams to life.

"Stay where you are, Martinsson. If you give in, you'll lose her forever. Not to mention your badge," he grumbled to himself, burying his face his hands trying to put the mental image of what you might have looked like on the other side of the door well out of his mind.

That was until he heard a sound that seared itself into the darkest recesses of his most vivid fantasies. Whimpers that echoed off the tiles escaping through the bathroom door, followed by what sounded like a filthy variation of the talks he'd once heard you give yourself in the locker room before some of your more intimidating interrogations.

"Fuck's sake, Y/N, either think of someone other than Magnus Martinsson and get it over with so you can actually face him when you get back to the fucking car, or give up and turn the bloody shower on cold."

The air left Magnus' lungs once he heard the frustration that laced your tone. The words unraveling his restraint once it reached his ears. If knowing that you were on the other side of the door touching yourself already had his sanity and restraint hanging by a final thread, the realization that he was the subject of your fantasies snipped at that thread with the sharpest, most ostentatious shears known to man.

He never rushed to take his clothes off so fast in his life.

As soon as you heard Magnus step out of the room you rushed to the shower, trying your damnedest to get the vivid horny daydreams out of your system before he returned. You got close the first time, but then your mind wandered to how his lips felt on your skin when he kissed your neck. And then how those same soft lips kissed your forehead before he left the room.

And with every attempt it was like that elusive climax slinked away farther and farther, taunting you that the only way you could actually get to it was if you surrendered to the fact that the only way was letting the fantasy that starred the devastatingly attractive older man play out in your mind.

Screw it, it's no use, you told yourself, closing your fingers around the lever to turn the shower into its coldest setting.

Before you could change the temperature, a large hand closed around yours, fingers deftly prying yours away from the lever. Your body froze at the feel of another, equally naked body pressing against your back.

You couldn't help the shiver that ran through you when Magnus whispered your name, tracing his fingers up your spine and across your shoulder. Fuck, why was he doing this? you screamed inwardly. It was a bad enough situation why is he making it worse?

"Look, I'll stay in the back and I won't make a sound," you choked out, barely audible over the sound of the water. "You'll have my badge on your desk the moment we get back--"

"You will do no such thing." His words came out husked, laced with a combination of conviction and desperation that you couldn't rationalize for the life of you. "Turn around, sweet girl. Look at me."

You could feel your entire body tremble and shiver despite the hot water coming down, your knees shaking with every shuffling step you took to face him, not even sure where to look once you have. Ultimately you decided to shut your eyes, refusing to look anywhere for fear that your eyes might travel too far South.

"Magnus I'm sor--"

"Shh shh, darling." He tilted your chin upward. "Look at me, please. Let me see those beguiling eyes of yours." His thumb gently pressed on your quivering lips, tracing along your bottom lip until he coaxed you into a pout. You took a breath before opening your eyes, gasping when you caught sight of a soft smile on his face, looking at you with a gleam in his eyes that had your knees shaking even more. "There you are, sweet girl," he rasped, before leaning in and giving you a soft, tentative kiss.

You let out a whimper once he pulled away, causing him to let out a guttural sound before he pulled you flush against him. His erection pressed against your stomach, warm and pulsing on your skin.

"I won't have you apologizing," he told you huskily, hands traveling down your sides, squeezing your hips for a moment before stopping at the backs of your thighs. "And I won't have you resigning, either." He smirked at the little squeak that came out of you when your feet left the tiled floor, pressing you against the wall. "I won't have any of that talk from those perfect lips of yours."

He captured your lips with his in a kiss that stole your breath away, letting out a guttural sound against your mouth when your fingers weaved into his dampening curls. Your other hand dug into his shoulder as if holding on to any last remaining shred of your sanity while he maneuvered you so that your hips were lined up. "Magnus what're you--Oh f-f-fuck," you whimpered, your body shuddering in his hold as you felt him brushing the tip of his cock up and down your folds, teasing your entrance.

"The only thing I will have from now on, sweet girl, is you." His lips latched on to a spot between your neck and shoulder, moaning into your skin as he slid into you in a single smooth motion, your walls more than slickened enough from your failed attempts just minutes ago to bring yourself to climax. "Fullkomlighet," he whispered into your neck. "Du känner dig som himlen."

The sounds of your combined moans filled the room as he moved in you, first in slow, measured thrusts and gradually getting more frantic until the sounds of your pleasure were cut through with the sharp wet snap as your hips met. Your mind in such a haze that you hadn't realized how close you were to the release you'd been chasing earlier until his hand went back down to where your bodies were connected, fingers quickly finding and flicking hurriedly at the underside of your clit.

"Magnus!"

"Let go. I need to feel you coming apart around me. Just let go with me. I've got you, min kärlek."

He muffled your high pitched screams slanting his mouth over yours, deliciously groaning into your mouth when your tongues met in a desperate tangle. His hand curled around the back of your neck, keeping you from breaking the kiss while your body completely weakened and surrendered to your climax.

The sound of the shower knob turning broke through your haze. "Hmm?" Your unarticulated question quickly turned into a squeal muffled by his mouth when he shifted his hold on you, his length still hard. Still throbbing. And still inside you.

He began to walk you out of the bathroom. He smirked against your lips when you began to whimper, every step he took making you bounce slightly on his cock.

It was only once he had you laid out under him at the center of the bed that he broke the kiss, giving you a soft peck and a nip at your bottom lip before pulling away, his face hovering a few inches above yours. "Breathe, min kärlek." He moved your hands above your head, capturing both your wrists in one large hand and pinning them down to the mattress. "We'll leave and get back on the road in a few hours."

Magnus started moving in you again, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss when you arched your back off the bed, feeling every ridge of him sliding against your walls. "Wait, Magnus what do you mean--"

"I'm going to need a little more time with you before I can even think of getting back in that car and enduring the rest of the day without touching you, sweet girl." He let out a sinful moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "And then when we finally finish this case, you're coming home with me. From now on you're mine, min kärlek. Are we clear?"

Your answer caused him to snap his hips into yours. "Yes, Sir."

A/N: I've finally finished this piece and hopefully I can bang out (pun absolutely intended) another one this week for Conrad. Yes, I know October's done, but the initial goal stories aren't yet. And the stretch goal stories, as promised, are definitely still coming.

And while we're on the subject of biting off more than I can chew, I've made the decision to join NaNoWriMo again this year, so let's see if I can meet that bonkers goal of 50k words 🫡

Hope y'all liked this piece of older!Magnus spice 😏 Please do prepare yourselves for the next piece, 'slow & soft' with James Conrad because at the moment that is a chonky boi with 4k words…and I've only just gotten to the smutty bits.

Translations: Fullkomlighet – Perfection Du känner dig som himlen. – You feel like Heaven min kärlek – my love

And here's a gif for everyone that reads to the end:

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

Kinktober taglist: @azula-karai-27

#magnus martinsson x reader #magnus martinsson x female reader #magnus martinsson smut #wallander #wallander fanfiction #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #muddyorbs writes

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gimmie-a-sammich · 3 months ago

Text

Between Two Thorns | Chapter 4 | Simple Terms

Pairings: Mafia!Ateez x Fem!Original Character, Mafia!??? x Fem!Original Character, Mafia!Jeongin (I.N) x Fem!Original Character, feat Stray Kids

Genre: (18+ Minors DNI) Mafia au, smut, angst, fluff

Summary: After an unforeseeable event, Amelia Lee finds herself torn between love and loyalty. What will her choice be? Her twin brother and the only family she's ever know? Or the man she never expected to fall in love with? Every decision, though, comes with a price.

Chapter Warnings: lies, deception, threats, mentions of torture, guns, typical mafia stuff

Word Count: 9.8 k

read here on AO3

Between Two Thorns masterlist

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“Checking the time isn’t going to make it go by any faster,” Hyunjin muttered, sitting on the top of the bench, feet resting on the wooden slats of the seat. He grew tired of Felix’s neverending pacing and need to check his watch every forty-five seconds. “He said seven. It’s 6:52. You know he’s not going to show up a minute sooner.”

The pair had been sitting in the park for nearly twenty-five minutes on the off chance Yeosang came early. Hyunjin surveyed the area beforehand, not wanting to be surprised. The bench he selected was entirely in the open overlooking the riverfront, few trees in sight. Inglewood Park lacked places to hide, making the risk of either party setting a trap slim. Yeosang chose the meeting place well if he wanted to avoid an ambush.

Felix paused his loop only to glare. “What I don’t understand is how you can be so fucking calm,” he spat, resuming his pacing.

“The fact that I am calm is the entire reason you brought me,” Hyunjin quickly shot back. “Do you want Chan here? He’s a fucking wreck. Jeongin? He’d pull some shit and Amelia would be dead before we knew it. So I’ll keep being calm, Lix, because someone has to be. Pull yourself together.”

Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair in frustration at the leader’s scowl. He wanted to let himself spiral and feed into the anger and paranoia surrounding him. But that wouldn’t help him get Amelia back. Somebody needed to keep an entirely level head and while Felix would hopefully step up to the plate in front of Yeosang, that responsibility currently fell on Hyunjin.

Much like it did last night when Jeongin destroyed his room in a fit of rage. Seungmin called him immediately, unable to calm his friend down. All it took was Hyunjin mentioning Amelia’s name for poor Jeongin to collapse in despair, guttural sobs leaving his body while his fists pounded into the floor. With his room in no shape to sleep, Hyunjin brought him back to his apartment to give Seungmin a break, especially when he was informed about a thrown picture frame narrowly missing Seungmin’s head. It let him keep an eye on the youngest in case he broke down again, but unlike Seungmin, Hyunjin had no issue knocking sense into Jeongin by any means necessary.

Or when he peeled Chan off the bathroom floor. Hyunjin noticed him sneaking away during the group meeting, but initially paid it no mind. He had been the one with Amelia, so it only made sense that he took her kidnapping exceptionally hard. But when his absence grew longer, Hyunjin felt the need to find him. He just didn’t expect it to be slumped against the bathroom wall with a bottle of whiskey in hand to drown out his feelings. Not once in their many years of friendship had Hyunjin seen him like this. Chan was the strong one, literally and figuratively, yet sitting before him was a broken shell. So again, Hyunjin spoke reason to someone in an unreasonable state, pulling him from his stupor enough to get him back in his seat at the table.

And he continued to stay calm now, snapping Felix back into the mindset necessary to bargain for his sister despite him nearly pulling out his hair with every step along the frosted grass. If Felix slipped up slightly, unintentionally offending Yeosang, then Amelia would be gone.

No, Hyunjin wasn’t calm because he wanted to be; he was calm because Amelia neededhim to be.

The frost steadily wore away from the grass, leaving a perfect line of Felix’s steps. Despite Hyunjin’s annoyance, he continued checking the time, watching as the minutes slowly changed and thought only of his sister.

6:55.Was she still tied up? 6:56. 6:57. Was she scared out of her mind? Crying and sobbing, begging for release? 6:58. How did he let this happen to her? What if they hurt her? 6:59. Was Amelia even still alive? 7:00.

“Felix,” Hyunjin dropped from the bench hastily. He looked over Felix’s shoulder, focusing on something in the distance.

Spinning around, Felix saw two figures walking towards them. He tucked his hands into the pocket of his black peacoat, gearing up for whatever conversation was coming. Hyunjin came beside him, mirroring the position and praying that Felix had his shit together.

Yeosang stared down the two blondes in front of him and couldn’t help but enjoy the power he held. However, the neutrality of their expressions impressed him. Neither showed an ounce of emotion, not even anger. Both stood tall, confident despite having no control over the situation. But it was all a farce.

While Yeosang continued studying the demeanors of Hyunjin and Felix, Mingi scanned the area looking for anything out of place. An ambush would be stupid on Oddinary’s part, but people did foolish things for love. And these men loved Amelia Lee to the point they would easily risk their lives for her.

“Beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Yeosang smirked and stood face to face with the two men. The sentiment was aimed directly at Felix, the pair locking eyes immediately.

Felix huffed, the air visible in front of him from the chilly November air. He attempted to gather his thoughts, wanting to come up with some sort of bargain to get Amelia back to him.

Though it was Hyunjin who answered with Amelia’s wellbeing on the forefront of his mind. “Before any conversation happens, we need further confirmation that Amelia is alive and unharmed.”

“No time for pleasantries?” Yeosang scoffed, but he nodded at Mingi next to him.

Mingi pulled a phone from his coat pocket. “It’s live. Timestamps are in the lower right if you don’t believe me.”

Hyunjin snatched the phone from his hand. Quickly Felix joined him. There stood Amelia. Well, more like there Amelia wandered. Appearing to be unharmed, Amelia paced the room. Hyunjin contained the smile that wanted to escape. Seemed both Lee twins took to pacing when stressed. But at least Amelia was untied and ungagged. Even on the tiny screen they could see determination on her face, not a single tear in sight. Too soon, though, Mingi took the phone from their hands.

“Tell me what you want, Yeosang,” Felix said sternly. “I’m willing to negotiate.”

Sharp laughter cut through the still air. “You think you have something to negotiate with?” Yeosang’s gaze pierced through Felix. “You took someone from me. It’s only fair that I do the same, don’t you think?”

“Amelia has nothing to do with whatever you think is going on.”

“Don’t play with me Felix. Lies will do nothing to aid your case. We aren’t stupid, despite your beliefs. It was only a matter of time before something ended this foolish truce I had with your father. How fitting that it was his son to ruin it. You’re half the leader he was.”

Somehow, Felix maintained his composure. Maybe it was due to the question of Amelia’s continued safety, or maybe it was Hyunjin’s grip on his sleeve that kept him in check. Yeosang clearly tried to bait him, especially by making comments regarding his father. It was an old insult, one he hadn’t heard in years. Still, it cut deep.

“State your terms,” Felix said flatly, not taking his eyes off Yeosang’s. “Or do you intend on flaunting my sister just to kill her?”

The statement angered Hyunjin. Why would he even mention Amelia’s death? But he couldn’t do anything about it.

Again, Yeosang laughed. “Kill her? No, Felix. I intend to keep her alive, as long you follow the rules.” Smirking at their silence and widened eyes, Yeosang continued. “It would be easier to kill her, a literal eye for an eye. But why make it easier on you? You can mourn a death. Eventually everyone moves on in some capacity. So why would I kill your precious Amelia, when I could keep her alive yet always out of your reach? My terms are simple. Let her go, and she lives. If you try to rescue her or make some sort of move against us, she dies.”

The air turned uneasy with a heavy silence, only the soft sound of the chilly river and the rustling of the evergreens breaking it. Felix clenched his fists and jaw at the unexpected terms. All his and Hyunjin’s preparations to negotiate a restructuring of territories, for Oddinary to give up anything that Yeosang asked, were in vain.

“There must be something you want from us, Yeosang,” Hyunjin said, quickly on the verge of losing his composure.

“What I want is you knowing that Amelia is alive and you’ll never see her again. To know that she is with me. That you will never know what or how she’s doing. For you to mourn the loss of the person you love most when she’s still breathing. If for some reason you force my hand and make me kill her, that death is on you. And you will have to live the rest of your pathetic lives knowing that you are responsible for her demise because you couldn’t let her go.”

Yeosang’s smirk grew at Hyunjin and Felix’s bewildered faces. Nothing they could offer him would change his mind. No amount of territory or money was worth more than the pain on their faces and the sheer horror that certainly ran through their minds. Amelia was his.

“Mingi,” Yeosang nodded at the blonde beside him. “Show them, please.”

Once more, Mingi pulled out the cell phone, offering it to Hyunjin and Felix. Only this time the videofeed didn’t show Amelia pacing around the cement room. She stood still, staring down a gun aimed at her face, not an ounce of fear cracking her resolute gaze. Hyunjin’s eyes widened and his heart raced. Felix’s pounded loudly in his ears, so loudly it nearly drowned out Yeosang’s next words.

“Now, Felix. Do you agree to my simple terms? Or does Amelia need another hole in her head?”

Felix’s entire body stiffened, not breaking his gaze away from the small video. “There has to be something you-” he cut off his statement when the barrel pressed against Amelia’s forehead. Still, his sister did not waver, standing strong and unblinking at the cool metal against her skin.

“This isn’t up for debate, something you continue to misunderstand,” Yeosang sighed, running his fingers through his hair in annoyance. “A simple yes or no will do. I’ll ask again: Do you agree to my terms?”

Attempting to gather his thoughts, Felix remained silent. He didn’t dare look over at Hyunjin even though he felt the stare boring into his side. There must be something he could do. Something he could offer Yeosang. But the sight of his sister facing certain death terrified him, completely knocking him down from being the ruthless leader he should be. His mouth went entirely dry and he struggled to swallow.

“Yes.”

The moment the hushed agreement passed Felix’s lips the gun dropped from Amelia’s forehead and out of sight. Hyunjin didn’t miss her exhale of relief, even though her face stayed stone cold at whomever stood before her. Their time watching her quickly came to an end when Mingi snatched the phone back from Hyunjin’s hands. Too distraught to say anything, Hyunjin only raised his head in defeat and looked at Yeosang’s smug face. How he desperately wanted to wipe that smirk off with his fist.

This was just what Yeosang wanted: having Felix distraught in front of him, eyes angered and chest heaving with the pain of his decision. Not only that, Hyunjin appeared a mess, futilely trying to hide his frustration and wet eyes. In a way, Yeosang owned them now. All because of their precious Amelia Lee. The exchange went smoother than he imagined. He anticipated more of a fight out of them. But he assumed seeing the very real gun against Amelia’s head took away any plans they may have had.

“Well, I’d say it was a pleasure,” Yeosang began, stepping backwards with a dramatic bow, “but we both know I’d be lying. You can assume your sister is alive. If my hand is forced, I’ll at least do her the decency of placing the body on your doorstep.”

With that, Yeosang completely turned away, not allowing either man another word with him. Mingi lingered for a moment, eyeing Felix and Hyunjin until Yeosang was a few steps away before turning to wordlessly follow him. The Oddinary pair watched them walk away and fade into the distance.

“What the fuck are we going to do about this, Felix? We can’t just let her go. Who knows what the fuck they plan on doing to her!” Calm Hyunjin had disappeared, replaced by a frantic and fumbling version. “There’s got to be something we can do, some sort of contact we can reach out to. Something”

Pulling out his phone, Felix dialed Changbin’s number. The rest of the Oddinary eight were on standby at the club, waiting for Felix’s word on the outcome of the meeting. Now that Yeosang was out of sight, Felix became the calm one, wearing the mantle Hyunjin tossed to the side. It needed to be him to take on all responsibility.

“We are going to do something,” he said sternly, casting a glance at him. “But I need your head on straight, like you’ve so kindly reminded me to do today. The others are going to be a mess, I can’t have you spiraling now too.”

Immediately, Hyunjin pushed his emotions to the side again. Felix was correct. The left hand man of Oddinary needed to step back up. He had allowed himself a brief moment, but that moment had now passed. Nodding, Hyunjin locked eyes with Felix just as Changbin picked up the call.

“We have planning to do.”

***

“Seems your brother agreed to the terms,” San stated when he pulled the gun from Amelia’s head. He made a show of taking out the cartridge and bullet in the chamber, handing both to Hongjoong to prove the gun was unloaded.

Even with the removal of the gun, Amelia’s expression remained unchanged. Eyes narrowed and arms crossed, she glared at the two men before her.

Hongjoong took the earpiece from his ear, San following suit. They had listened to the entirety of Yeosang and Felix’s conversation to know just what to do with Amelia. Their instructions had been clear: kill Amelia if anything but a yes came from the leader of Oddinary. Thankfully for Amelia, her brother didn’t put up an outward fight.

“Am I ever going to be made aware of these stupid terms?” Amelia raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms.

Only smiling, Hongjoong busied himself around the room. San leaned against the wall, staring at Amelia. He was intrigued by how she stared so resolutely down the barrel of his gun. Wooyoung was right. She was spicy.

“When Yeosang’s back he’ll go through everything,” San said with an oddly playful edge to his voice.

Rolling her eyes, Amelia shifted her gaze to Hongjoong. “And what happened with my brother?”

Hongjoong turned his focus to Amelia. “Yeosang will tell you what you need to know, Amelia. We were just here to-”

“To kill me if things didn’t go the way Yeosang wanted.”

With a sigh, Hongjoong moved closer until he was mere inches away from Amelia. He reached a tentative hand out towards her waist, letting it land there when Amelia didn’t shy away. Without even realizing it, Hongjoong was already falling into Amelia’s hands, just like she wanted.

“Luckily we didn’t have to do that,” Hongjoong said softly, staring deep into Amelia’s eyes.

Even though he was only a means to an end in her mind, Amelia took in just how handsome Hongjoong was. Those big brown eyes looked at her kindly, but still Amelia saw a slight edge in them, the same one she noticed last night. One corner of his full lips twisted up into a small smirk while he studied her up and down, making no effort to hide his wandering eyes. At the same time, his fingers dug into her hips almost possessively. Although Hongjoong was much smaller than San in build, he was still toned and lean, carrying himself with a dangerous, yet graceful aura. In that way he reminded her of Hyunjin.

“Lucky for who, Hongjoong?” Amelia breathed, allowing the man to trace featherlight shapes on her side.

“I guess we’ll find that out.” Hongjoong’s smile widened and his free hand shifted to brush away a piece of her disheveled hair. “Yeosang will be back soon. He’ll explain how everything will look moving forward.”

On that note, Hongjoong backed away from Amelia, turning to nod at San. He removed himself from the wall, eyes not leaving Amelia.

“Try to behave yourself until then,” San smirked.

Amelia couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “Because I can cause so much trouble in here amongst the cement. Worried I’m going to slam my head against the wall? Not like you’ve given me much to entertain myself with.”

San laughed, a loud, boisterous sound that echoed throughout the room. “I think we’d all prefer it if you didn’t do that, Amelia. Were you expecting a 5 star resort? A spa day with facials and massages?”

“Actually, some skincare would be nice if you’re offering.”

San’s eyes glittered with a smile, but Hongjoong answered. “We’ll see what we can do.”

After three firm knocks from San, the door swung back open. The taller man didn’t pay her a second glance back, yet Hongjoong did, offering her a pained smile before the door clicked shut behind them.

Once free of their presence, Amelia moved freely about the room, trying her best to not seem too flustered. All she wanted was answers, yet that was something not so easily provided to her. Knowing that someone was still watching her through the cameras, she kept her smirk to herself. After just a day Hongjoong seemed to be falling into her twisted scheme. Almost too easily. Amelia quickly questioned whether or not something more nefarious could be at play, but how much worse could her situation become?

What she really wanted to do was change out of her now uncomfortable clothes and wash her hair. But she was too stubborn to accept the clothes Wooyoung offered her and they still lay neatly folded on the edge of the bed. The odd acts of kindness left her uneasy and she was determined to remain firm in her opposition.

Amelia resorted to aimlessly pacing again while she waited, head tilted to the floor as she went between the concrete walls of her confinement. Somehow her thoughts were loud and quiet all at once, a raging storm and calm sea simultaneously. Anyone else in her position would be a blubbering mess, begging for release on deaf ears. Instead Amelia continued to run through options in her head and tried to keep the thoughts of her brother and the others at bay, an act much easier said than done.

She wondered just how this meeting went down with Yeosong. Did Felix bring Hyunjin with him? Or Jeongin? Or maybe Chan?

Chan.

He must be devastated. Amelia shook her head at the thought of the strong, unbreakable Christopher Bahng breaking knowing she had been taken under his alleged watchful eye. Failure was never an option for him and he failed at the one thing he’d always prided himself in: protecting the ones he loved, and there were few he loved more than Amelia Lee.

She could picture Seungmin and Changbin arguing over some sort of plan to retrieve her, Han piping in to give his always solid input and quickly bringing focus back where it needed to be. Minho itching to get his hands on anyone from Fever, inflicting his favorite forms of torture for taking her away from them. Felix with his twisted smile while he raised a gun to each of their heads to finally end their lives. Hyunjin laughing maniacally, teasing each man while Felix moved down the line. And then Jeongin…

How was Jeongin taking this? When it came to him all of Amelia’s thoughts became conflicted. She was entirely positive he would be a mess, his complicated feelings for her clouding his judgment entirely. It sent a pang through her heart when she realized he would have been one of the first to realize she had been kidnapped.

Entirely unaware of just how long she had been milling around in her own head, Amelia didn’t notice the metal door reopening. She jumped at the pronounced click when it shut, the first and only break in her armor to show thus far. Her pacing ceased when she shifted her gaze towards the door to meet Yeosang.

He still wore his long tan coat, hands tucked casually into his pockets wit a pink tinge still clinging to his cheeks. “Hello again, Amelia.”

“Yeosang,” Amelia responded curtly, recrossing her arms in front of her. It was odd he entered alone, only ever having come with San and Mingi.

“Now that I’ve met with your brother, I think it’s only fair that the terms we’ve agreed upon be shared with you.”

“I find it ironic that you have these discussions with everyone but the individual these terms impact.”

Yeosang chuckled at her response, stepping towards her slowly without breaking his gaze. “Unfortunately for you Amelia, you are nothing but a means to an end, the perfect way to exact my revenge on your brother and his petty club. Another pawn in my game of chess, although my hope is that I won’t have to sacrifice you as quickly in my pursuits. You see, I intended on playing a very long game.”

Even though being referred to as a meaningless pawn set Amelia off, she remained silent, digging her fingernails into the flesh of her arm to keep sharp words from spilling out. Still, Yeosang provided her space to answer, eyes widening in amusement when she didn’t.

“Now, these are simple terms, simple enough for you to understand I hope,” Yeosang continued, ignoring the tension in Amelia’s jaw at his snide insult. “When I said to make yourself comfortable, I meant it. You’re mine, Amelia Lee. There’s going to be no rescue mission for you, no knight in shining armor coming to save you from me. You’re going to remain here, out of your brother’s reach but always on his mind. It would be too easy to kill you, you see. I’d rather watch him and the rest of Oddinary suffer knowing you’re alive, but that you’ll never be theirs again.”

“Felix would never agree to this-”

Yeosang’s hand on her chin silenced her voice, but did nothing to quell the fire in her eyes. “Your brother agreed to let you go without a second thought, Amelia,” he hissed.

Amelia inhaled abruptly, each of her muscles tensing at his harsh touch. “Take your fucking hand off me before I-”

Instead his grip tightened, the pads of his finger indenting her cheeks. “It’s fucking adorable that you think you’re in the position to make threats.” His breath was hot against her face when he leaned in further, tone somehow becoming more menacing. “Now, I’ll make this even simpler for you. Any attempt at escape results in one of your precious Oddinary men dead, starting with Hyunjin. Follow this one rule and no one dies. Your brother and his idiotic crew have their own rule. If they come for you, you die.”

Amelia attempted to jerk her head out of his grasp, but Yeosang dug in deeper. “Do you understand me?” Both pairs of eyes burned with an unrelenting anger, Yeosang’s teetering on the edge of insanity, Amelia’s with a cold fury. It only angered Yeosang more. “I said, do you understand me?”

There was much she wanted to say. She wanted to cuss him out, to throw out every single threat she could muster. But Yeosang was right. What say did she have? None, absolutely none. Even if Felix did agree to whatever terms Yeosang provided him, she knew that he would never let her go easily. None of them would.

But in her current position, with Yeosang glaring dangerously and clutching her possessively, there was only one thing she could say.

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” his gaze narrowed before he removed his hand and placed it back in his pocket. The suddenness had Amelia jerking her head backwards, craving separation from him

Without another word, he turned on his heel, leaving Amelia dumbfounded and with a sore jaw. Three sharp knocks and the door opened and slammed shut before Amelia could process that Yeosang left. Her chest heaved while she talked herself down, again not wanting to put on the show she knew they wanted. No, the show he wanted. Once more she resumed her pacing, thoughts spiraling back towards an escape that would now be more difficult knowing that everyone’s lives were on the line. Her only hope was somehow being released.

An eerie sense of calm washed over her at the realization, her thoughts all going back to one man.

Hongjoong.

***

Somehow, Amelia knew how to push Yeosang’s buttons with ease. Never before had he met someone who could get under his skin, yet this tiny blonde managed to do just that in under twenty-four hours. Hell, grown men feared him. But not Amelia Lee. Oh, how that irritated him.

“Was putting hands on her really necessary?” Mingi asked coldly when Yeosang reentered the basement.

“It was only my fingers.” Yeosang didn’t want to admit the effect Amelia had on him and how his need for control overpowered him. Every set of eyes were trained on him. “She had an attitude. That isn’t going to fly-”

“Of course she has an attitude,” Mingi retorted. “We fucking kidnapped her.” He stood suddenly, walking past Yeosang and towards the secured hallway.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Yeosang questioned.

“To take her to her new room.”

“Do you think she’s earned that privilege?” Yeosang’s voice rose.

Turning around, Mingi strode towards his leader, staring him down angrily. “I think you’re letting Amelia get to you. It’s eating at you that she’s not cowering in the corner and begging for your mercy. She’s shown more balls than most men. So yeah, I think she’s earned the fucking privilege.”

Yeosang showed Mingi just as much disdain, more frustration seeping into his words. “And what if I say she needs to stay in the cell a few more days, hm?”

“Amelia’s attitude doesn’t mean we shouldn’t follow through with the original plan,” Seonghwa spoke up in an attempt to dissolve the budding argument. He had noticed Mingi’s soft spot for Amelia early on, but this protective edge towards her took him by surprise. “Mingi does have a point. Yes, she’s nothing like we expected her to be…”

“Cheongyang pepper vibes…” Wooyoung mumbled, earning a smack behind the head from San.

“But our intention was always to make sure she was comfortable, regardless of the circumstances that brought her here,” Seonghwa finished with a sigh.

Mingi and Yeosang’s staredown continued until Yeosang turned to face the eldest. Although he didn’t want to acknowledge it, Seonghwa was correct. Even he could admit his errors, even though those moments came fleetingly. “You know she’s going to fight every step of the way.”

“Would you expect something different?” Seonghwa smirked, standing up and patting Yeosang on the shoulder, simultaneously putting himself between Yeosang and Mingi. His attention turned back towards Mingi. “Take Joong and San with you… she seems to somewhat like Hongjoong at least. Let him explain what’s going on. Maybe she’ll settle in better in her own space.”

Hongjoong’s face flushed while a knowing look washed over Yeosang briefly before his smirk returned. Mingi looked at him for confirmation. Despite his anger, their leader still had the final say. With his nod, Hongjoong and San also stood, squeezing past Yeosang to follow Mingi.

“The rest of you, go about your day like normal,” Yeosang ordered, watching the trio disappear through the door. “The last thing Amelia deserves is an audience.”

Wooyoung jumped up, smiling. “I’ll go make sure her room is ready… I worked hard on it.”

Yunho placed his large hands on Wooyoung’s shoulders, steering him towards the staircase. “You’re not supposed to share that, Woo,” he whispered, but still loud enough for Yeosang to hear. It annoyed him just how much effort the others put into Amelia’s comfortability, something the members knew well/

Wooyoung’s shrill laughter echoed. Jongho shook his head, following the pair out of the basement and chatting to Yunho about lunch plans. Seonghwa remained, moving to retake his seat in front of the monitors.

“I can handle the locks,” Yeosang stated, focus quickly going to Amelia and her neverending pacing.

Seonghwa shook his head. “Take a breather. It’ll probably be better if she doesn’t see you.” His smirk widened when he saw just how intently Yeosang studied Amelia through the screens. “I’ve never seen someone work you up this much, Yeo. Has she really gotten under your skin this quickly? Not even Woo can-”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Yeosang said abruptly. He didn’t want to sit and listen to Seonghwa’s teasing any longer, even though he wanted to see the interaction between Amelia and the others. “Avery’s on her way anyway.”

“Awfully early for her to be coming over, isn’t it?” Seonghwa said offhandedly, clicking the mouse to change the camera angle. “Do you trust her enough with Amelia here?”

Yeosang laughed harshly. “Do I trust anyone outside of us?” He didn’t expect a response to his rhetorical question, continuing on. “But Avery knows better than to go against me. It’s better to go about business as usual.”

“Especially if that business involves getting your dick wet, right?”

***

Much like he chastised Wooyoung for attempting last night, Hongjoong knocked on the metal door before it swung up, alerting Amelia to their impending entrance. The warning made sure she was already turned in attention. Her innate ability to keep a straight, yet determined face despite what happened around her still surprised the members, whether it be in person or while they watched her on video.

Unlike previous times, Amelia stayed quiet instead of throwing some sort of witty remark at them. Hongjoong attributed that to Yeosang’s threats and his behavior. She simply watched the doorway, but the trio didn’t enter immediately.

“Can we come in?” Hongjoong asked softly.

Amelia raised an eyebrow. “I’m not even going to acknowledge the irony of that statement.”

“We’ll take that as a yes then,” Mingi said, sliding past Hongjoong into the room and ignoring the small scoff of annoyance. San followed quickly, resulting in both the large men entering the room before Hongjoong. It only served to annoy him more.

Still, Amelia’s hazel eyes remained strong and unwavering with the three men before her. “Can I not get a moment of blissful, kidnapped peace?” she muttered.

San laughed. “You’re going to be seeing a lot more of us, especially with-” A sharp gaze from Hongjoong silenced him. Seonghwa had been clear on who should explain things, and it wasn’t San.

“What he means is we understand that your reason for being here is unorthodox,” Hongjoong began.

“Unorthodox?” Amelia’s voice raised, but did not falter. “You fucking kidnapped me and plan on keeping me here indefinitely. Don’t you think that goes beyond unorthodox?”

Mingi smirked at the weight of Hongjoong’s sigh when he raised his hands in defeat. “Look, we know it’s not ideal. But we don’t intend on being complete monsters with this whole thing,” he said from his perch against the wall.

“Sure, Mingi,” Amelia laughed cruelly. “You’re not complete monsters. At least I’m alive right? Just as long as I don’t try to run away and my brother doesn’t come after me? Only then do I end up dead in a fucking ditch. Very considerate of you, actually. Completely unmonster-like.”

Hongjoong took a couple of tentative steps closer. “You know just what kind of people we are, Amelia. Nothing we say is going to change that. But, what Mingi means is we don’t plan on keeping you confined in this concrete cell for the rest of your life.”

The slight shift in Amelia’s stance caught San’s eye. “Ah, that got her attention,” he chuckled.

It had, but probably not in the way San assumed. “What, am I going to get an allotted thirty minutes of outside time a day? Designated enrichment so I don’t descend into madness?”

“More than that, Amelia,” Hongjoong said earnestly, ignoring the spite and sarcasm flowing through her words. “We want you to be comfortable, as odd as that sounds coming from the men who kidnapped you. So, would you like to get out of this box so we can show you where you will be staying?”

“You’re speaking like I’m on some sort of luxury vacation.”

“Consider me your ever willing concierge then,” Hongjoong said playfully with a smile, gesturing towards the door with a small, yet dramatic bow.

This seemed too good to be true, although Amelia didn’t know where exactly her new quarters resided. It could all be a trick, one that ended cruelly for her. But Hongjoong seemed genuine. Flicking her eyes towards San and Mingi, she found the same earnest look in their eyes, both going as far to offer her thin, assuring smiles and nods.

“We’re not lying, Amelia,” Mingi said calmly. “Let us show you.”

She pursed her lips in thought. This wasn’t the time to make a mad dash, but it could be a chance at alone time with Hongjoong. Anything to further her cause. “It really takes all three of you for this? What an escort.”

“Well, in the words of Wooyoung, you are pretty spicy,” San laughed. He jerked his head towards the door. “Follow me.”

San didn’t give Amelia a chance to respond and abruptly walked out the door. Nor did Hongjoong. Instead, he stepped around her, apprehensively placing a hand at the small of her back to coax her into following San down the concrete hallway. She leaned into the touch, humming appreciatively. Mingi slid behind them, bringing up the rear and watching their odd exchange with wary eyes.

They paused at yet another door, yet Hongjoong’s hand stayed securely along her back. Mingi couldn’t help being confused by their closeness, questioning what was going through Hongjoong’s head. It wasn’t like him to be this touchy with anyone, especially not a prisoner, regardless of how beautiful Amelia may be.

Blocking the keypad with his broad body, San typed in the code to grant them entry back into the basement. Amelia was taken aback by the luxury she stepped into, quickly coming to the realization that she had been in their house the entire time. She knew the main Fever group lived well, but hadn’t expected this.

“You’re to take her straight to her room,” an unknown voice came from her left. “Make sure to share the rules.”

Amelia’s head snapped towards it and she was met with the biggest eyes she’d ever seen. But what caught her off guard most was how pretty the man was. He easily could have been a model, tall and elegant, strands of his shaggy black hair perfectly framing his face despite being pulled back in a small ponytail.

“Ah, forgive me,” he apologized. “I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Seonghwa.”

“I don’t think I require an introduction at this point,” Amelia said curtly, ignoring the apology all together.

Seonghwa continued to smile at her. “You absolutely do not, Amelia Lee.” With a quick nod towards the group he strode away towards the staircase.

Hongjoong applied gentle pressure, urging her to also move towards the stairs. “Let’s keep going.” His head dipped low towards her head, lips close enough to brush against her ear.

Obliging to his command, she continued to follow San. Immediately she blinked at the natural light pouring through the expanse of windows on this level. The subtle warmth felt so good on her skin, the air around her fresh and smelling faintly like vanilla. Just like the basement, the main level was lavish from what she could see. The space was immaculate, opening up to a grand foyer with just as grand of a staircase in the center. In its entirety, it was a perfect mix of modern and traditional, although it leaned more heavily onto the modern side. Quickly she found the large front door, quickly noticing the touchpad next to it.

She didn’t have long to survey with Hongjoong leading her up not only the first set of stairs, but also the second, taking them to the top floor of the mansion. Everything was in perfect condition, crisp and clean, light pouring through the many windows. Through them, Amelia saw a large garden and a glass atrium containing a pool. Beyond the landscaping though, she saw the thick brick wall that surrounded the ground. Another obstacle to figure out for her escape.

Turning right, San continued down the hallway until he stopped at a door with yet another touchpad. Unlike the others, this one was wide open. Before San could announce them, Wooyoung popped into the doorframe.

“Amelia!” he exclaimed, greeting her like an old friend instead of a prisoner.

Hongjoong pushed her through the door after him. Amelia fought to keep her jaw from dropping at the room before her.

It was massive. A large king sized bed settled along one wall, a soft gray comforter and endless amounts of pastel pillows arranged methodically on it. The wall in front of her was entirely lined with windows overlooking the backyard and a door that led to a small balcony already adorned with comfortable chairs and a table. Another cozy armchair and small couch surrounded a flat screen TV in another corner of the room. There was also a desk, minifridge, and microwave. Small floral decorations were scattered about, as well as what seemed to be some art supplies.

“Do you like it?” Wooyoung asked softly. “I picked it out.”

“Why?” It was the only thing Amelia could come up with. Why would they put this much effort into a room for her?

She hadn’t noticed Hongjoong entering behind her. “Because contrary to your belief, we do want you to be comfortable here.” He gestured towards the two doors in the room. “Closet on the right bathroom on the left. Both should be stocked, hopefully to your liking, but if there’s anything you need let one of us know.”

“So you bought me clothes… and bras and underwear?” Amelia scowled. “Pervy.”

“WE picked them out,” Wooyoung added with a smile. “Whether or not you think it’s pervy, Hongjoong doesn’t get all the credit because there’s good stuff. Stuff I found, for that matter.”

“Now… rules,” Hongjoong continued, once again ignoring Amelia’s insult. “This room is entirely yours, but we don’t intend on keeping you locked in here. You are allowed out… but one of us must be with you at all times. There’s a button next to the door that will alert us if you do want out and about. We’ll also be by periodically to check on you if you choose to stay in the room.”

“Told you that you’d be spending lots of time with us,” San chirped from the door. Both he and Mingi waited outside, giving Amelia some much needed space despite Wooyoung and Hongjoong being there.

Amelia’s eyes flickered between them, still in shock. Even though she didn’t want to accept it, this was a monstrous upgrade to the concrete dungeon. Additionally, it gave her access to more of the house and more of Hongjoong for her little plan of seduction. It was too good to pass up. So she uttered two words nobody thought she would ever say.

“Thank you.”

Wooyoung beamed at her, while Honjoong’s ears turned an unmistakable shade of pink. San and Mingi were in disbelief, but Mingi’s lips still curled into a small smile.

“We’ll let you be,” Mingi interjected from the doorway. He wasn’t fond of the way Hongjoong was staring at Amelia while she looked about the room and wanted to get him out of there. “Take a shower. I’ll come back and check on you in a couple of hours for lunch since you haven’t eaten anything. Sound good, Amelia?”

She turned and nodded at him. Amelia would rather it be Hongjoong, and judging the look on his face so did he, but her time with him would come. It would be better if he pined after her, anyway.

“Are there cameras in here?” she asked quietly, remembering the cameras covering the cell in the basement.

Wooyoung shook his head. “None.”

“Comfortable, remember?” Mingi added before focusing back on the two men in the room. “Woo, Joong, let’s go.”

Sweeping a hand around her back subtly, Hongjoong leaned in closer. “I'll see you at lunch.”

“Take a look in the closet too, Amelia… you won’t regret it,” Woo smiled when he walked by, following Hongjoong out the door.

San and Mingi lingered for a moment. She didn’t miss the way Mingi’s eyes followed Hongjoong until he was out of the room. The last thing he did before closing the door was throw Amelia a hesitant smile. The unmistakable pinging of the touchpad came through faintly, followed by the dull click of a lock.

Despite Wooyoung’s assurance about the cameras, Amelia tore through every inch of the room in search of a hidden device. In her pursuit, she found herself oddly appreciative of the effort he put into her room. With a few artful touches it could have been something she put together all on her own. It made her wonder just how long the crew had been watching her.

It made her all the more curious about what was hidden within the closet. She opened the door, expecting to find a simple, typical wardrobe. Instead she stepped into the walk-in closet with her jaw on the floor.

Clothes lined half the walls from top to bottom, shoes and accessories intermixed throughout the organized shelving. This was a model worthy closet and nothing she thought Fever would have provided her. Judging by how spot on the styling of clothes was, they must had been following her for weeks.

“What in the hell is actually going on here,” she mumbled to herself as she thumbed her way through some of the clothes.

Maybe a shower would help her get her thoughts aligned, because right now she was entirely confused by this treatment. She expected to be held like a literal hostage in a cage for the rest of her life until it somehow ended or she escaped, not in a fancy furnished room with a promise of being let out into the house, even if that was with supervision. It had her questioning if they were as monstrous as she thought. Well, except for Yeosang.

After she grabbed a matching lounge set, a comfy looking bralette, and underwear she went straight to the bathroom. It was just as extravagant as the rest of the room. The pristine marble countertop already had skin care lined across and she smirked at the sight of it, remembering her conversation with San. A large, enclosed glass shower and porcelain bathtub took up a large portion of the room.

In the linen closet, Amelia found plush towels and extra bathroom supplies. She grabbed one, setting it on the countertop before taking a long look at herself in the large mirror. For being stubborn and not taking advantage of the ragtag shower downstairs, she didn’t look too terrible. Her skin screamed at her, but her makeup remained relatively intact. Her scalp itched and ached from the top knot and she couldn’t wait to wash every inch of her hair and body.

After searching the drawers, she found a brush and took the time to comb out her ratted hair. Turning on the shower, Amelia stripped off her clothes and left them in a crumpled pile on the floor and entered the drizzle. It felt heavenly on her skin, the pressure perfect. The shampoo, conditioner, and body wash were all high end, similar to what she used at home. She’d definitely have to thank Wooyoung, even if she didn’t want to.

Suddenly, it occurred to her that maybe kindness would be a better option for her. As much as she wanted to go down kicking and screaming, she needed to reel them in and somehow build up some sort of warped trust so she could get out of this place. So in the hazy steam of the shower she continued to plan every detail of her escape. If only she could find a way to contact Felix…

But she let that idea swirl down the drain with the rest of the water, not wanting to inadvertently put them in danger. No, her escape needed to happen on her own. And the sooner, the better.

***

Mingi knocked on her door a couple of hours later, waiting for her to assure him it was okay to enter before unlocking the door. Amelia had situated herself on the plush armchair, curling herself up beneath a blanket while she scrolled through the streaming services on the TV. They had absolutely everything, even CrunchyRoll.

“You like anime?” Mingi asked, watching her add her favorites to her list having already taken the liberty of creating her own profile.

“Of course I like anime,” Amelia responded coolly while she added Tokyo Ghoul to the list.

He walked behind the chair, leaning down on his elbows to get a better look at the tv. “You didn’t strike me as an anime type of girl, especially not a Tokyo Ghoul one.”

She looked up to find Mingi perched above and looking at her with a huge smile. “What kind of girl did you take me for then?”

“More of a Hallmark movie one,” he said seriously.

Amelia genuinely laughed. “Well, you couldn’t be more off the mark with that.”

Mingi’s grin widened. “At least I know you have good taste. Tokyo Ghoul is one of my favorites.”

“Well if I want company on my 36th rewatch I know who to come to.”

He rounded the chair, surprised by Amelia’s openness. “Can I sit down?”

At Amelia’s nod he plopped down on the floor in front of the chair, leaning against it so his shoulders brushed against her bent legs. His stretched out endlessly in front of him, arms crossed against his chest while he made comments regarding Amelia’s anime choices and recommending more of his favorites.

Speaking to him was much easier than Amelia anticipated and she found herself quickly falling into it comfortably. She had thought she would have to make the effort to play nicely, but somehow with Mingi it came naturally. Not a thing seemed forced, and he took no offense to any of her sarcastic comments, only matching them with ease. More importantly, he seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say.

“Are you hungry, Amelia?” Mingi turned to look when he heard her stomach gurgling behind him.

“Nope.” With this, Amelia ws continuing to be stubborn, even though her body ached for something to eat after twenty-four hours without anything but water.

Mingi completely adjusted his body to get a better look. “Your stomach is saying otherwise. Think we’re going to poison you?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll take the first bites of whatever we give you. If you’re going down, I guess I’m going down too.”

“How very Titanic of you.”

“C’mon, we both know that floaty piece of wood was big enough for both of them,” he stood up, completely dwarfing her and outstretched his hand. “I can show you the rest of the house too, if you’re up for it.”

She eyed him quizzically for a few moments. His pupils somehow became larger and he gave her legitimate boba eyes. All he wanted was for Amelia to feel safe with them, but especially him. He felt an odd sense of guilt with the entire kidnapping, especially since technically he had been the one to do it.

“I won’t hurt you…” Mingi said quietly when he noticed Amelia’s hesitation at taking his hand. He meant it. He didn’t want to hurt Amelia. It was why he went with Yeosang to meet Felix instead of San. If something went awry in the plan, he didn’t want to be the one to pull the trigger.

Finally, Amelia clasped onto it. “Says my literal kidnapper.”

Somehow, his eyes became even wider. “What do you mean-”

“You don’t think I recognize your hands? Or that I wouldn’t realize there was a reason you and San were always with Yeosang? I saw San, just before you covered my face and knocked me out. I may be blonde, but I’m not dumb.” When she stood and met his gaze more fiercely, she could see the hurt in his eyes. For some reason, it bothered her more than it should. “I won’t hold it against you, though. Someone had to do Yeosang’s dirty work.”

Mingi just stood with his mouth open, not knowing how to respond and wondering if he should just deny her claim. But he knew better. Deep down, he knew lying would ruin what he desperately wanted to build with Amelia, as warped as his intentions seemed.

Thankfully, Amelia answered for him. “I��m being serious, Mingi.”

“I’m just waiting for you to spit in my face too,” Mingi laughed nervously, shifting side to side

“Oh honey,” Amelia smirked. “Do you think I’d pull that trick twice? That was a pleasure reserved only for Yeosang. Plus, the angle is all wrong for that right now. You’re too tall… I’m not trying to fight gravity.”

“Any sort of revenge I should be on the lookout for?”

“Maybe a kick to the balls.”

A smile finally returned to Mingi’s face. “I guess that would be deserved. Now, lunch or the house tour first?”

“Let’s see the rest of my prison.”

With another eye roll, Mingi took off towards the door, glancing back to make sure Amelia was following him. Unlike previously when he left the room, the door remained unlocked. He paused outside, wanting Amelia to walk beside him instead of behind. The thought of sprinting straight towards the front door crossed her mind for a split second. Freedom could be closer than she thought possible, but she needed everyone to let their guard down just a bit. They would be expecting her to try something now, so she would not give them the satisfaction of doing so.

Mingi’s tour wasn’t too detailed with him being more concerned about getting food in Amelia’s system. She learned that their bedrooms were split between the top two levels, along with office spaces, and a couple of guest rooms. The main floor housed the ‘fun’ rooms as Mingi put it. In this case it was the library, kitchen, dining room, their conference room, and a couple of different living rooms. The basement was the same, although there was a full gym and more of a movie theater style room hidden there as well. Mingi purposefully omitted anything involving Amelia’s cell, but did let her see the surveillance room even though it was shut down with her absence. He also showed her the way to the pool house, assuring her that after lunch if she wanted to go into it or outside for some fresh air and a walk around their grounds he would take her. Of course she accepted his offer, solely because she wanted to survey the wall. Anything to help plan her escape.

The tour officially ended in the bustling, yet immaculate kitchen. Wooyoung and San were loudly bickering about something while Wooyoung was busy at the stove and San sat at one of the barstools. Seonghwa watched the two of them intently, lip curled into a small smile. Hongjoong sat silently, eyes locked on the laptop in front of him and focused only on whatever played through his headphones. Two more men sat at the countertop, but Amelia didn’t know either of their names. One was as tall or taller than Mingi, but looked much more lean with a well kept mop of brown hair. The other was shorter, but stockier, looking muscular enough but not on the same level as San with clean cut black hair. Noticeably missing was Yeosang, not that his absence upset Amelia anyway. She preferred his absence.

At their entrance, the once loud atmosphere became entirely silent. Amelia was used to having eyes on her, but not like this. But she wasn’t one to let her confidence lapse, even in a situation as fucked up as this. So she strode into the room with Mingi, standing beside him to lean against the island’s counter.

“You’re actually out of the room,” San said with a dumbfounded smirk. “I’m impressed, Mingi.”

Hongjoong slid his headphones off his ears, catching Amelia’s eye before looking pointedly at the seat beside him. However, Mingi latched onto the side of her shirt when she moved to take it. She looked at him with confusion, but Mingi simply shook his head with a furrowed brow. When she made eye contact with Hongjoong again he seemed just as confused as she did. Her plan at getting closer to Hongjoong may be trickier than she thought

“Ah, we should probably introduce ourselves then…” the shorter of the two unknown men began, “My name is Jongho.”

“And I’m Yunho,” the taller one finished.

Amelia put on her best smile. “Hi.”

“Did you like your closet and everything else?” Wooyoung asked expectantly, pausing his stirring of whatever was cooking in his pot.

“Pleasantly surprised, especially with how spot on everything was. Thank you, really.”

Wooyoung’s eyes crinkled with his smile before returning back to his task. “I told you I picked well. Only the best.”

She bit back her snarky comment about the absurdity of it all. There would come a time for more harsh words, and now wasn’t it. Now was the time for them to be lulled into her false complacency and feigned acceptance of her new life.

“Are you joining us for lunch?” Hongjoong asked, eyes going between Mingi and Amelia. Just as Mingi was questioning his intentions with their guest, Hongjoong began to question Mingi’s.

“I’m making pasta, if you want some,” Wooyoung added. “Or there’s plenty of leftovers in the fridge, or I can make you something else or-”

Seonghwa’s soft laughter cut him off. “Calm down, Woo.”

“Regardless of what it is, Mingi gets the first few bites,” Amelia teased, looking up at him beside her.

Yunho furrowed his brow. “Care to explain?”

“Uh, well…” Mingi fumbled with all seven sets of eyes on him. “I promised that I’d taste her food to prove it wasn’t poisoned.”

Everyone erupted into laughter, especially with Amelia’s serious expression. “You all kidnapped me, how am I supposed to be certain you don’t have nefarious intentions with me?” she said without a hint of emotion.

“Our intentions are not to poison you, at least not purposefully,” Seonghwa laughed. “You never know with Woo’s cooking though.”

“HEY! I’M NOT THE ONE WHO ALMOST BURNT DOWN THE KITCHEN!” Wooyoung exclaimed angrily, pointing his wooden spoon at Seonghwa.

Thus ensued more bickering. Amelia sat and watched it unfold, studying the dynamics of the group to get a better understanding of them. They were all extremely close, that was easy to see. Obviously they had to be, considering they chose to live together. She couldn’t help but get caught up in some of what was happening around her, laughing at the insults to Wooyoung’s cooking before he was slathered with compliments.

True to his word, Mingi ate the first four bites of Amelia’s pasta even though Amelia watched Wooyoung finish the preparation of it. To further prove their point, San also took a bite or two. While eating though, Amelia couldn’t help but become curious over Yeosang’s continued absence.

“Does Yeosang not eat?” Amelia asked casually from her seat between Mingi and San.

“Oh he eats,” San said between mouthfuls. “But he’s out with Avery.”

Seonghwa groaned. “Can you not keep anything to yourself, San?”

San narrowed his eyes. “Amelia lives here now. You don’t think she’s going to meet Avery at some point?”

Internally, Amelia cringed at the thought of living amongst them for too long. Outwardly, she kept her kind, curious face. “Avery? Is that Yeosang’s girlfriend?”

Jongho snickered. “I wouldn’t go that far.” He threw his hands up at Seonghwa’s glare. “Really, Hwa? San has a point.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to share these things right away…” Seonghwa mumbled.

Mingi dipped his head towards Amelia, ignoring the new argument around them. “Avery is Yeosang’s… fling. He has many of them,” he whispered. “She’s been around for a couple months though, much longer than the rest.”

Through his voice, Amelia heard a bit of annoyance. Once more, curiosity got the better of her. “I take it you’re not a fan?”

Huffing, Mingi shook his head. Being honest with her about small things like this seemed to be a sure way of building trust. “Most of us tolerate her.” He leaned back up, noticing Amelia’s empty bowl and smiling that she ate finally. “Do you still want to go outside? It’s chilly, but sunny.”

Amelia nodded. “I could do with a bit of sunshine, honestly.”

“Care for some extra company?” Yunho asked with a bit of apprehension.

“How could I resist the tall entourage,” Amelia laughed.

Smiling, Yunho stood up, grabbing Mingi, Amelia, and his plates to take to the dishwasher. When Mingi stood Amelia followed, giving a small smile to those that remained in the kitchen while making sure to catch Hongjoong’s gaze. For a moment, she thought she imagined his wink before returning the headphones to his ears, but Mingi’s scoff reassured her that it wasn’t her imagination.

Things were falling into place more easily than she could have hoped for.

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obsessedtomone · 11 months ago

Text

Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 5 - Game Plan▸Shigaraki x femReader

Chapter Summary:

◤ There’s three reaction types when it comes to facing imminent danger. Flight, fight or freeze.

Flight, fight or freeze.

You don’t run, you don’t fight. No, instead you manage to fucking freeze.

“W-Was wondering when your stupid ass was going to show up, creep. T-Thought I’d have to call the morgue to find you,” you say, attempting—and ultimately failing—to keep calm in his grasp. Your body might be frozen right now, but you don’t hold back the contempt in your voice. ◢ Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three • Four • Five • Six

Chapter 5 - Game Plan The walk to your desk was more of a blur than anything, despite your group mates hardcore shoulder checking you on the way to their own seats.

“Thanks for nothing, bitch,” you think you heard Yui(?) say to you, her cute persona slipping away from her completely. You wouldn’t remember it later on, though.

Your legs are definitely taking you to your destination, but your anxiety forces you to zone out, away from this moment. Didn’t you promise yourself to keep your head down, back then? That you wouldn’t fuck with anyone or make proper enemies ever again? At the very least, pick your fucking battles?!

Sure, you’re a real bitch to people, to him in particular—on more occasions than once—but you still tried to avoid complex situations if you could help it! So why couldn’t you help it this time? Were the past few weeks too nice for you to go ahead and fuck everything up again?!

You feel tears pricking at your eyes. How could you be so fucking careless?

And don’t you dare fucking cry over this shit.

As soon as you get to your seat, Shigaraki turns to you in an instant, a smug fucking smile playing on his lips like he was taunting you.

Scratch that, he definitely is taunting you.

Before you could hurry and pack your laptop and your other belongings—to get the fuck out of here, you hear his grating voice speaking, head tilting to the side.

“Say, I’ll make you a killer deal,” he begins, the tone of his voice deceptively even, failing to mask the coldness. “If you fucking apologize to me right now, and manage to clear things up with the professor before—” He slides his sleeve just above his expensive-looking smartwatch and casually checks the time, “—the class ends, in about… mmh, give or take three minutes? I promise you won't regret this as much as you will if you do go through with this stupid shit you started with me.”

His face breaks into a slow and creepy smile as he threatens you, body emanating nothing other than incredible malice.

Judging by the way you feel your own two hands shaking against the backrest of your chair, you sadly only now realize that you really shouldn’t have fucked with him.

You’re still standing, looking down at his more than pleased expression on his face.

Despite the harsh tone, he looks at you more fascinated than anything. There’s a glint in his eyes, one that makes you feel like you’re some stupid pet in need of disciplining. A glint similar to the one you had in your own eyes, moments before the disaster you’d willingly thrown yourself into.

A disaster that will fucking cost you, especially with how ill-equipped you are to deal with situations like these in an amicable way. So you do what you’ve always done best, letting the monkey brain take over. And you fight, fight, fight.

Because what the fuck is this guy saying, like actually?

Anger takes over for you, replacing the anxiety you’d felt earlier.

“Uh-huh. You know what? Let me make you a better deal! How about—you fuck off?” you happily bite back. Or more like, take the bait.

And the aggressive response you gave him visibly seems to spur him on, as his grin widened and his leg started bouncing.

“No one held you back from doing your fucking part of the project, asshole! So who the fuck do you think you are, exactly?” you speak to him, fully unfiltered.

A really bad idea if you stopped to think about it. Too bad you didn’t like to think too much in situations where your amygdala did a full fucking hijack.

Shigaraki lets you continue, basking in the way you work yourself up just because of him. He found out he enjoys it when you’re pushing him. It means he gets to push back.

“Hey,” he says, very carefully, calling you by your first name in a lower—almost sensual—tone, as if tasting it in his mouth. His eyes narrow, and you see a flicker of something dark crossing his face.

Which for some fucking reason makes your heart skip a beat.

“...Huh?”

“I’m being very, very serious with you right now. You have to fix this before it’s too late,” he says and you blink at him dumbly, getting lost into his red angry eyes and feeling some sort of familiar warmth spreading inside you—the feeling being catastrophically overwhelming.

Your brain short circuits. Why did he say your name like that?

Why?

You can’t register what you’re hearing anymore—until the fucker doubles down, with a clear goal on his mind.

To rile you up some more.

“Be a good girl. Will you? For me?” He tilts his head and despite the sweet tone in his condescending rough voice, he’s looking at you like he’s about to either devour you or completely destroy you, right then and there.

Your lips part in surprise, taking a small sharp breath, and his eyes dart to your mouth for less than a second—something you wouldn’t have seen had you so much blinked in that moment.

Is this guy seriously… teasing you right now? When did incels become this fucking confident in themselves? Right, probably since the moment they were born and raised as rich, spoiled fucking brats who did whatever they fucking pleased.

For some reason that thought pisses you off even more—and then you feel it.

Rage.

“Fuck you, you spoiled fucking asshole! You think you’re the center of the goddamn universe, hm?” You point and poke your finger into his chest repeatedly, unleashing your anger on a still seated Shigaraki, who��s minimally flinching every time you poke him—something missed during your little outburst. “What are you gonna do, then? Fucking enlighten me! You gonna run to daddy and have him fix it for you like he always does? Or take me out back and beat the shit out of me for tattling on you to the big scary professor? What exactly are you going to do, huh? You don’t fucking own people, and you especially don’t. Own. Me!”

Your breaths are coming in heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly and shoulders heaving up and down with each labored exhale. You must have a screw loose or maybe a death wish, to taunt him like that, desperately hoping to strike a nerve and piss him off.

Unfortunately for you, that become a reality, because his playful demeanor completely vanishes in record fucking speed, replaced by a flash of fury that engulfs his entire being.

You feel the air that’s surrounding the two of you physically shifting.

Shigaraki’s jaw clenches so tightly you think it might crack, as he yanks his backpack from the floor and stands up abruptly. He then turns back to you, the renewed malice in his tone sending a deep chill throughout the nerve-rollercoaster of your spine and your skin breaks out in goosebumps.

“Listen to me really carefully, now.” He suddenly towers over you, casually sliding his rough hand across your shoulder, fingers wrapping around it tightly—one by one. You glance down at the feeling, only now noticing the big silver rings he was wearing around his index and ring finger. His grip on you is strong. Stronger than you remember it being in the store, not too long ago. Because back then he didn’t mean to harm you, but right now he’s fucking livid.

You shiver.

“I was going to be real fucking nice and let you fix this little… mistake. But I think you just helped me change my mind. Thanks,” Shigaraki says disingenuously, his hold on you turning bruising—hurting you.

You wince but you don’t let it show, regardless of the fear that’s creeping in. He revels at the challenging look in your eyes. Almost as if he’s daring you to fucking go ahead and act out again.

“I’ll make it so you’ll—mm,” he hums, pretending to ponder his following words for a second, until he leans in very close to your face and says, “beg me to stop, you’ll see. I’m actually really fucking good at keeping my promises.” The soft look he threw at you after, is nothing other than deceitful, and you wouldn’t dare to blink or even breathe right now.

So you force yourself to seem unbothered by his words and actions, daring to roll your eyes in an act of defiance and looking off to the side.

He’s not the first asshole to threaten you like this, so why is it so scary this time?

“Look at me,” he growls, digging his nails deeper into the fabric of your shirt, forcing you to do as he says, or else. “You shouldn’t mess with people you don’t know. Did no one teach you that, hm? You’ve heard aaall those fucked up things about me and still decided to play?” Your eyes narrow from the pain, but you don’t reply to his fake concern. Shigaraki smiles. “It’s okay, I’ll make sure you understand from now on. I’ll play.”

Deciding he’s done talking to you, he pats the hand on your shoulder a few more times the way a close friend would—before shoving you hard against the wall behind you and turning to leave.

You feel your back take the hit and your frown deepens.

“Hey! I’m not fucking done!” you shout after him, but he’s quick to slip out of the door, making you stare at his back this time around, like the petty motherfucker you know he is.

Your lips press into a tight line and you see shuffling happening in the corner of your eye.

It’s students glancing at your little mental breakdown post the Shigaraki theater piece, grimacing and whispering to themselves until they finally leave the classroom.

That’s it, you’re going home.

─────────

Taytay — Girl, yoU did what??? To WHOM???????? BITCH ARE YOU CRAZY??????? I didn’t tell you those stupid rumors so you could go ahead and get in a fight with him!!!! Fuck fuck fuck, we’re so fucked!!!!! Goodbye world. RIP ⚰

[Sent 3:40 PM]

Your phone lights up for the millionth time today.

Taylor was blowing up in your DMs, freaking out after you told them about what went down between you and Shigaraki earlier. Instead of replying to them, you’re hiding from the world, under the safety of your blankets, trying to come down from the numerous panic attacks you’ve had after the incident today.

You can’t stop spiraling, thinking about all the fucking things that could go wrong now. This isn’t your first rodeo with cocky little bastards who want to see you cry, or worse, but it’s the first time in a long time that you feel so helpless. All those other bastards were nobodies, but Shigaraki seems… different.

You felt small under his gaze and you couldn’t tell if it was your daddy issues or if it was the rumors that painted him as a rich heartless criminal.

No, it’s not that. It’s him, you think to yourself.

He’s dangerous. You felt it at the store, you felt it when he was toying with you in class and you definitely felt it when you decided to cross him. The air around him was different.

Breathe, you mentally will yourself to stop hyperventilating.

You played a mean prank on him, but is it really deserving of whatever scary shit he’s thinking of doing to you? Is he really that cruel or is he just fucking with your mind? Could he tell that you’re a flimsy sheet of fake confidence away from falling apart, at any point in time?

You for sure fucked up this time, you’d realized it earlier after all, but he’s being unreasonable.

Isn’t he?

Maybe… you’re being unreasonable. What would you have done in his place, having his status and his strength, if someone wanted to fuck with you? Would you have ever let it slide? Do you ever let it slide? Aren’t you just as fucking petty as he is, minus all the +buffs he’s gotten due to life’s RNG?

Maybe you should’ve apologized on spot.

But that would be tough because you haven’t sincerely apologized to anyone in years now.

They didn’t deserve it.

He doesn’t deserve it.

You can’t seem to keep it together right now, flip flopping between fear and denial, so you reach your hand for your second best friend—your anxiety meds. They don’t kick in right away, sometimes not at all, but you only need to feel the edge taken off.

So you grab the bottled water on your cheap makeshift nightstand and chug two whole pills at once.

That’s what you are, all bark but no fucking bite. And he just about proved that to you in front of all those people too.

Fucking pathetic.

You slide down sprawling on the floor and blankly stare at the ceiling. It’s not enough and you wish you could sink deeper into the ground. Six feet deep.

Would it help if you skipped classes for now? Who knows what that fucking criminal has in store for you. There’s a possibility he’d calm the fuck down if you stopped showing up. Maybe you can strike a deal with the faculty again and they’d let you take time off.

What would be an appropriate time for him to move on and forget about you anyway? A week? A month?

A whole ass year?

Is it too late to move countries, you ask yourself but no one answers.

While you were lost in thought for hours, someone decides to pound at your door really fucking loudly.

Oh god, did he send in someone to mess you up? His friends?

Did he already find out where you live?

Did he intend to make good on his promise this fucking quick?

Bang Bang BANG! — Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You begin slowly stalking to your kitchen, footsteps as light as you can manage against your old creaky floorboard and you arm yourself with the biggest frying pan you can find—the one with chipped paint, because you could only afford to pay like four dollars for it at a random garage sale.

In your pocket would be your pepper spray that you grabbed from your room on your way out. Both items should be enough equipment to knock someone out and make a run for it.

You stop in front of the door and listen carefully.

Maybe they left?

Bang! — you jump. “Oh my fucking GOD, babe, I swear if you don’t open this goddamn door, I’ll kill you with my own two hands. Before anyone else has the chance to!” a familiar voice warns, the sound being muffled by the door that was separating the two of you. You open it and feel instant relief washing over you. It’s just your best friend.

“H-Hey…” You force yourself to smile, but it looks off and they rush in to hug you.

“You didn’t respond to any of my messages for hours,” they whine in justified frustration, then they run a hand through their hair, sighing. “I thought I’d have to ask my sugar daddy to buy your organs off the black market, y’know? So we’d have something to bury at your funeral. God.”

“Sorry, I… couldn’t bring myself to reply.” You fidget, feeling kind of ashamed. You don’t like making Taylor worry. They don’t deserve to worry. Not for you.

Your friend gives you a look of sympathy—or maybe pity—before they speak again, “It’s okaaay, we’re gonna get you through this! Maybe it’s just rumors after all and he’s just messing with you, babe,” they say as you’re closing the door behind the two of you.

Nodding briefly, you press your hand over the hidden bruises that have been forming under your hoodie, tagging along behind your friend on their way to your bedroom.

That’s not it. He wasn’t fucking bluffing. People use words when they’re bluffing, not leave ugly purple marks on other people’s shoulders. Before you can continue that train of thought, you hear Taylor’s yelling voice and cringe at the suddenly increased volume.

“Fucking hell, babe!” Your friend turns to you with a raised brow and the biggest shit eating grin you’ve seen all week. “You have not cleaned this room since Santa visited last year, have you babe? Pretty sure you’re on his naughty list now.”

You roll your eyes and frown. “I was planning to, okay?”

Honestly, you weren’t. Not anytime soon. But you really don’t have it in you to hear more deserved criticism right now, despite it coming from your best friend. Your inability to properly care for yourself when you’re feeling like shit is a big sore spot for you.

“Yeah right, shut your stupid trap. Can’t even remember what freaking color your floor was.” Taylor says playfully, picking up on your sour mood as they shove you to the side and start cleaning up around your room. “Help me out, will you?”

It finally clicks.

They’re helping you and it’s working, your mind now occupied with something more physical, trivial, grounding.

Your shoulders slump and you begin helping them with your chores, after which the both of you start discussing a game plan.

─────────

What you and Taylor came up with is a bit underwhelming in battle-planning terms. You decidedly won’t skip uni over a pseudo-college-villain and instead are going to try talking sense into him, before you escalate this to your dean. Your friend wants you to apologize first, but you didn’t have it in you to tell them that you’re pretty sure you haven’t genuinely apologized to anyone since fifth fucking grade.

“Who the fuck knows what that crusty asshole is capable of? Ducking your head is also a form of fighting, hun. This isn’t the time and place to be prideful,” they’d reasoned with you. “We’ve already established he’s anything but normal, so you can’t spook him with your big bad bitch attitude.”

Despite feeling extremely annoyed at the prospect of your submission, you know this was probably the best play. You’d fucked with a possible clinically insane guy, if the bruises on your shoulder were anything to go by.

Besides, there were plenty of curious students who oh-so-enthusiastically attended your little theater performance with Shigaraki on Wednesday. They’d be enough to act as your witness, should anything go wrong. Would they step up, though?

You’re hoping they would, but in your experience, most people try to keep their hands clean.

But save that thought for later. There’s bigger problems to attend to for now.

With the ‘plan’ in motion, you attempt texting him multiple times, but he wouldn’t even read your messages. Or… he’d blocked your number.

You couldn’t tell.

All that’s left to do now, is to see him again next week on Monday and hope for the fucking best—that he’d talk to you and you’d get out of this mess without putting his orbiting rumors to a test.

There’s a tiny problem with that course of action, however.

You didn’t know his schedule, his major or his classes, aside from the ones you were sharing with him. No one else does either.

It’s fine by you really, because you weren’t in a rush to see him again, and after a couple of days passing uneventfully, you felt like maybe he’d lied to keep you on your toes and make you feel shitty.

Maybe you wouldn’t have to confront him after all.

─────────

Bzzt Bzzt —

Your week went by in a flash, with a few part time shifts in-between your classes and the occasional ‘what if’s’ playing on loop in your head, taking over your brain when no one was looking. Not even brain-rotting media like music or games could distract you from the spiral anymore.

Now it's time to leave for college. You mentally prepare yourself for the chilly air of the changing seasons, grabbing your coat, your phone and feeling like you’re forgetting something—your school bag. Cursing under your breath, you grab that too and finally head out.

The walk itself wasn’t very long, since it only takes around fifteen minutes from your place to campus. You don’t live on campus, but you live a few blocks away from it. Not too bad when you consider some of the students live outside of the city and have to travel tremendous amounts of time to get to class. Time that could be used to sleep.

A pang of anxiety hits you as soon as you get to the entrance, your brain catching up with the fact that today is the day you get to face him again.

It feels incredibly overwhelming, to say the least. Like a new boss in Dark Souls, that’s threatening to one-shot you and significantly set your progress back.

‘Shigaraki Tomura, ender of college careers’, you snort at the stupid thought, hoping you won’t have to rest at your apartment’s bonfire after today’s battle.

…And maybe he is such a character—one to be feared—but you’ve already made up your mind, wanting to bring this silly game to an end.

Thus you step into the building, regardless of the overwhelming anxiety rattling your bones.

Bzzt Bzzt —

You’ll have to remember to put your phone on silent, because who the fuck is messaging you right now? You never use the standard messaging app to talk to anyone, so maybe it’s your manager or one of your co-workers, the only thing disproving that theory being that they wouldn’t message you. They’d call.

Annoyed by the constant vibrations, you reach into your front pocket to check which motherfucker had nothing better to do with their time. Before you could even pull out your phone, someone properly bumps into you, stopping you dead in your tracks.

“Ow, fuck,” you manage to get out as they walk past you.

Glancing back, you see two idiots looking at you, exchanging meaningful glances with each other and then moving on with their lives, as if they didn’t just shoulder check you with the strength of a linebacker in a game of football. Do people not apologize anymore for bumping into strangers? Fucking weirdos. You’ll never let Taylor tell you that you have bad manners ever again.

It… isn’t just them, though. All of the sudden, it seems like everyone is stealing glances at you.

Yeah, right. You definitely became the popular girl overnight.

More like, fucking delusional.

You’re seeing things, probably because of that psycho making you feel on the edge the whole ass week. It’s not the first time your brain is making things up, making you feel like bad things are happening when they weren’t.

Still, there’s a weird feeling that you can’t quite put your finger on.

After some fast paced walking and trying a great deal to ignore that weird feeling twisting your gut, you find yourself in front of the classroom’s door. And so you just… stand there. For a good while.

You’re quite early too, probably for the first time since you started going to this god forsaken university.

With a deep breath, you open the door and make your way to your usual spot. You grab your laptop, boot it up and quickly work on some leftover assignments for the day, while you wait for the bell to ring and for you to have a real conversation with the white haired psycho. Bzzt Bzzt — Goddamnit, the fucking phone.

Pulling it out, you unlock it and immediately frown at the multiple message previews on your lockscreen. There’s like five different ones, all of them sent from random ass unknown numbers.

You open one of them and are immediately greeted by—hands-down—the ugliest dick pic you think you’ve ever seen.

What the fuck?

Unknown Number — hey baby, can u take care of this 4 me…? i woke up thinking of you today and its throbbing…

[Sent 7:03 AM]

Reading it makes you immediately gag and you promptly close it, blocking the number.

Who the fuck are all these people?

Unknown Number — So you need someone to fuck your brains out huh sweetheart?? Let me take you up on that offer I’ll treat you real good babygirl <3

[Sent 11:47 AM]

You can’t hold back the urge to respond to this particular idiot before blocking him, so you shoot him a reply.

You — aw don’t worry bout me bro <3 i saw your daddy last night! maybe if i ask him nicely, he’ll come visit you again. see you at the family reunion ;)

[Sent Now]

But apparently, you aren’t quick enough to block this one, because you see a new message popping up from the same dude you replied to seconds ago.

Unknown Number — Damn baby you’re freaky like that?? I’m so fucking down to be your daddy. When can I see you baby? Wanna meet at the nearby Starbucks after class?

[Sent Now]

Oh god, ew ew ew. You immediately hit the block button and close your stupid phone, mentally going through a list of all the websites you registered to in the past few days and wondering if any of them sold your fucking number to data scalpers.

Ugh, now you’ll have to change it. What a pain in the ass.

Wait.

It takes you a moment for the information to process, sudden panic setting in your gut. You quickly reopen the message from the now blocked number. He mentioned a ‘nearby Starbucks’? After class? The next few messages seeming to be similar in nature, so you put your phone on airplane mode and slip it back in your pocket.

Was this Shigaraki’s doing? Did he leak your phone number to a bunch of creepy assholes in the area?

Wow, soooo scary, you snort at the thought.

It seems so fucking silly that you were so afraid of him before. Maybe you’d made him up to be too much of a Marvel Universe villain in your head than he actually was. It’s possible with the list of mental illnesses you were blessed with. Surely he didn’t want to be expelled from uni over something so stupid, did he? Wouldn’t his rich daddy mind if he sullied the family name or whatever?

The bell rings with most of the students having occupied the seats.

Your CS professor isn’t here on time today which immediately strikes you as odd. He is definitely a stick in the mud when it comes to meaningless rules such as punctuality, so it makes no fucking sense as to why he’d be late.

While you’re spacing out, you notice a few more people turning to look at you, the way you noticed they did earlier in the hallway. They glance ‘sneakily’ and then whisper something to their friends.

You don’t break eye contact with them and scowl, daring them to keep staring at you like you’re some kind of a freak. They of course don’t, because you almost always win any petty staring game people start with you, because that’s what you are—petty—and they finally look the fuck away.

What’s everyone’s fucking problem today?

You think about it.

Did he seriously threaten you, going off on his evil speech for about five minutes, just to mass-dox your phone number to a bunch of horny assholes?

God, and he called your move to embarrass him on Wednesday ‘stupid’. Taylor was right, the rumors around him really are just that—rumors. That, paired with your trauma and ta-da! You finally realize just how much you’ve overestimated that asshole.

It worked. You did learn a lesson: You’re a fucking moron.

You shake your head and cringe in your seat for giving him so much power over you.

Instead of your usual CS professor, a substitute trudges in. He pulls out his attendance sheet and begins taking the count. You scoff to yourself, because not doing the attendance digitally in a computer science class was really fucking stupid to you. Especially for a class as big as this one. One of those, huh?

“Alright,” he begins, placing the sheet on his desk and clearing his throat. “Well then, as you might have already heard, Mr. Reynolds has recently submitted his letter of resignation and I will be taking over this course for the rest of the semester. Call me Dr. Ericson.”

The substitute sounded as ancient as he looked, going on introducing himself and his grading etiquette and… you lost interest.

Mr. Reynolds is… well, was, a legendarily uptight professor, who’s been teaching his math and computer science courses at this university very… passionately, for the past two decades. It’s kind of incredible that he’d retire from a job he took so seriously and was so proud of.

That alone made you wonder just about what could deter him from ‘molding the young minds of today’, or whatever he used to say when you first stepped into one of his classes. You’ll never forget the way he’d glared at you for being two minutes late on the first day.

Maybe he’s knocked up one of his students? Yeah, right.

The thought made you chuckle to yourself and you can’t wait to talk to Taylor about it. Maybe your friend knows something.

─────────

The rest of your class goes on undisturbed and when the bell rings, you leave for the next one.

Just like earlier, you feel watched by practically everyone.

By now you realize it’s not just a coincidence, something’s up and you have a feeling you don’t actually want to find out.

On the way to your next course, you find yourself walking down the hallway virtually alone. This particular wing of the building was more secluded than the others and used mainly by the robotics engineering majors.

It’s kind of creepy being by yourself in cold and dark empty hallways, but you’re thankful for the reprieve you get from the gawkers that can’t seem to stop whispering behind your back. It feels like you were back in highschool all over again and you couldn’t figure out why.

You’re passing by a group of guys, when suddenly, one of them grabs you and effectively yanks you by your still-bruised shoulder. Your face immediately turns sour and you wince.

“Is it you?” One blonde dude—the guy who had grabbed you—asks with a huge shit eating grin on his face.

You blink and they call you by your name.

“...Why?” you reply, frowning.

“Holy shit, it is you!”

He looks at his friends with an incredulous face and they all start laughing like they’re in on some stupid inside joke you didn’t care to be a part of.

“You should come hang out with us at our dorm, we could all have some fun together. Take turns, y’know? Been wanting to try that out for a while with my buddies, but we couldn’t find anyone. I’ll text you, okay?” He winks at you like you’re supposed to fucking know what they’re talking about and you notice one of them adjusting the tent in his pants.

Your eyes widen and you pull back abruptly. “What the fuck? Get away from me, fucking creeps!”

You’re backing away, beginning to feel terrified, when they speak again, “C’mon baby, don’t act coy. I know you said you play hard to get and I’m down to deliver, but let’s do it in private, okay? Maybe we could all skip class right now? It’ll be fun, promise.”

He flashes you a smile and all of them start closing in on you like you’re an animal at a petting zoo.

You feel nauseous. You’re gonna puke. Sliding your hand in your pocket, you feel the rim of your pepper spray and get ready in case they try to grab you again, making a mental note to spray whichever motherfucker looked most annoying to deal with, after which you’ll make a run for it.

Suddenly, one of them notices something from behind you and his leering expression morphs into what seems to be pure horror. He nudges the others to get their attention, then points a finger past yourself.

Just like that, the band of morons slowly back away from you.

You begin turning around, ready to thank whoever got them to fuck off, to finally leave and get to class, but unfortunately you’re not allowed a break. Because now some other asshole slides their arm around the one holding your pepper spray, and tugs you very close to them.

Your body stills completely.

“Made a couple of friends already, I see,” a familiar dark voice rasps closely to your ear, making you visibly shudder. His white bangs tickle the nape of your neck as he leans into you.

There’s three reaction types when it comes to facing imminent danger. Flight, fight or freeze.

Flight, fight or freeze.

You don’t run, you don’t fight. No, instead you manage to fucking freeze.

“Hah!” Shigaraki barks in a sinister laugh that makes you flinch, holding you even tighter to him. You don’t dare to move a finger yet. “Still so fucking mouthy, huh? I guess I should check in again in a couple of days, since you probably still don’t know what’s happening to you yet. Did you even get to see my present?”

He cups your cheek with his other hand and forcefully moves your face towards his own. His nose touches yours almost intimately, and his red eyes that are glaring at you now, are more intense than you’ve ever seen them be. Shigaraki’s mouth stretches into a sadistic grin.

“What fucking present, asshole?” you ask, unable to hold yourself back from taunting the devil. “You think giving my phone number to a bunch of sex offenders is gonna scare me? That it?”

You roll your eyes and huff at him, but your voice fails to remain even. Adrenaline is now rushing through your veins and you feel yourself gearing up to attack or to run, the initial freeze finally letting up.

As if he could read your mind, his hold on you becomes impossibly tighter. You try again to push him away with your hands, but he holds tougher than a wall of bricks. Shit hurts and you’re convinced you’ll have even more bruises tomorrow. More bruises caused by him.

“Tch. You really think that’s all I’d do? Thought you had more brains than that.” He tilts his head in false contemplation. “Have I overestimated you?”

“What do you want from me then?” you grunt, voice straining. You look like an angry kitten, hissing at the big bad wolf. If he feels you trembling against him, he spares you from mentioning it.

“Mmh?” Shigaraki glances away, finger touching his chin while seemingly considering your question.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“What do I want,” his voice takes a slightly higher pitched lilt as he feigns curiosity.

The tension snaps.

“Fucking nothing you can offer me anymore, bitch. You lost your fucking chance after your little temper tantrum last week,” he growls, voice spitting venom, and his demeanor instantly flips to an incredibly sour one as he shoves you hard against the wall. You don’t have time to register the impact, because he places his palms on each side of your head, effectively caging you in.

Shigaraki is now completely towering over you, your vision filled with only him.

“You have no fucking idea—cannot comprehend the position you put me in, after Wednesday!” He leans, face closer to your own. He was angry at you, really angry, but for what, you weren’t sure. “Ahh, but that doesn’t matter now does it? Because it’s your fucking fault, and now you’ll have to live with the consequences. Like the good little whore you are.”

His left hand reaches to cup your face gently, an attempt to lull you into fake security and a stark contrast to the evident bitterness in his voice. You notice his gaze briefly lowering to your lips, and him slowly leaning in closer to you. So close, you could feel his breath against your mouth.

And then, time kind of… stops.

If you believed you could push him away before, you now feel unable to. Is he really going to kiss you?

Moreover, are you so fucked up to let it happen?! Instead of going for your lips, however, his mouth goes past and just barely traces the shell of your ear, teasing you and the rough texture and sending an unwanted shiver down your spine. You feel him smirking against your ear.

“Just kidding!”

He pushes himself off of you and throws his hands up in some sort of act of surrender. “Woah, look at you. Were you really hoping that I’d kiss your disgusting mouth? Freak.”

He narrows his eyes and chuckles darkly, examining your flustered form. Your face must be insanely red by now, and you can bet he can see the shakiness of your shoulders.

What’s wrong with you? Why is he doing this?

And why are you allowing this to happen?

“My bad, my bad!” He smirks knowingly. “Maybe if you weren’t such a mean little bitch and you’d ask politely, I’d let you ride my cock. Maybe I’ll still let you when you come back crawling to me, begging so, so sweetly for me to forgive you.”

It’s incredible, really, how delusional this guy fucking is. How many wrong turns did you take to unlock this event?

You’d like to deny it, to tell him that you’re utterly disgusted by him and his filthy words, but Shigaraki talking to you like that does something inexplicable to you.

After being stunned for a moment, you push yourself off of the wall, one hand clutching the strap of your bag and the other balling at your side. He could see the anguish in your eyes, and that alone filled him with glee.

He’s impatient, unable to wait for the moment he breaks you, everything happening just because you’d decided to play a stupid prank on the worst possible student in this goddamn university.

You can’t help but glare at him, willing yourself to snap out of whatever spell you were in.

“Hope you’ll like my gift, I put quite the effort into it. But you should hurry along. Respectable honor students don’t skip classes now, do they?”

Your blood runs cold as he waves at you innocently, pulling his hood up and sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He walks backwards for another good second, literally basking in how disheveled you look, then turns around and finally leaves you for good.

When he’s finally out of your sight, your nerves let up and you slide down the wall as a panic attack washes over you.

There’s no doubt in your mind anymore. Whatever he’s done to you will be beyond fucked. How naive of you to think he’d be human and let this go.

You wish you could turn back time and never cross his path, that stupid night at the store.

You wish you were a different, nicer person, one that knows when to bow their head down or to apologize properly when they mess up.

But you’re still you, so you do the only thing you can think of right now, and call the one person who’ll always have your back.

Your best friend.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #emotional hurt/comfort #shigaraki tomura #unhealthy relationships #dead dove do not eat #trigger warnings #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki x you #tenko shimura #tomura shigaraki #college au #reader is female

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atwooozi · 4 months ago

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gojo x oc

Chapter 13: Fushiguro Toji

summary: Amid the whirlwind of press interviews, Ai finds herself in an unexpected moment of introspection and connection with Gojo. As they converse, Ai peels back the layers of Gojo's public persona, uncovering his past struggles and the significant influence of a mentor named Toji. Their conversation takes a turn, revealing Gojo’s unspoken burdens and his unwavering commitment to those he cares for. A shared late-night walk cements their bond, offering Ai a rare glimpse into the heart of the man behind the celebrity, and leaving her with a renewed sense of purpose for her article.

genre: modern AU, slice of life, comedy, eventual romance, eventual smut, some angst

A/N:

Wednesdays seem to come by so fast lately. I'm always so surprised when it's time for me to post a new chapter of this story. Recently, I've been taking a break from writing to focus on school work and studying, and while I know it's the responsible thing to do it's not as fun.

Anyway, the song for this week isn't Japanese or within the future funk/city pop space but I feel suits this chapter well. It's Off The Record by IVE. I've kind of been in and out of the kpop space for the past few years and I heard this song randomly on Spotify. I think it fits perfectly within this fic, especially, this chapter.

READ ON AO3

When Ai returned to the hotel where the press junkets were taking place, a few reporters were still waiting for their ten to fifteen minutes with Gojo and Okkotsu. She didn’t envy them at all. Although the journalists were just waiting around, she could only imagine doing it alone and how exhausting it was by the end of it. Countless hours passing by without someone there seemed like hell.

She quietly made her way into the small green room set up in a corner of the large hall. Taking a deep breath, she sat down in a deceptively comfy-looking chair and took out her iPad to pick up where she left off in The Tao of Wing Chun , her most recent piece of research for this profile. Ever since she went down that rabbit hole with Toji, she had somehow found herself here.

It had felt like only minutes with how absorbed she had gotten into the book, but when the door swung open, she realized that she had been sitting there for almost an hour.

“Reading on the job?” Gojo teased as he took a seat across from her. He grimaced as he tried to get comfortable in the chair and quickly relaxed as he crossed one leg over the other, resting his chin against his fist. Gojo looked tired, but somehow he still glowed despite having to go on for hours with the same questions posed in a handful of different ways.

Ai turned off her tablet and tucked it against her side as she sat up a bit straighter. “No, I was doing some research.” She took out her phone and pressed the record button before setting it on the small table between them.

“You read whole books for research?”

Ai shrugged. “I guess I’m an overachiever.” Saying those words felt sour on her tongue. Despite usually priding herself as a perfectionist, she felt like anything but that lately. She had nothing to show for all the work she did.

Gojo smiled at her and nodded his head. “Careful not to burn yourself out, Ai-chan.”

Ai nodded and ran her hands along her pants to try and soothe her nerves. “Noted.”

Gojo leaned back in his chair. “So, what have you learned?” he asked, genuine curiosity evident in his tone.

Ai shrugged. “Well, I’m just learning about Wing Chun…”

“Oh?” Gojo arched an eyebrow. “What’s that about?”

Ai gave him a quizzical look. “Don’t you already know?”

Gojo hummed, urging her to keep going to give himself a break from speaking.

“We don’t have to do this now, Gojo. You’re tired,” Ai said as she moved to get out of her seat.

Gojo quickly grabbed Ai’s wrist, holding it firmly. “I’m fine.”

Ai frowned as she held Gojo’s gaze. His eyes were tired, it was obvious. The usual ethereal eyes that sparkled were now dull.

“Fine,” Ai said as she sat herself back down.

Gojo gave a satisfied smile and sat back in his seat. “Good, back to Wing Chun.”

“You’re pretty bossy.”

Gojo couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m used to getting my way, I guess.”

Ai rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. “Before acting you were an athlete, right?”

“I was.” Gojo grinned, but his expression slowly became complicated. “I injured my knee, though, so that was that.”

Ai nodded as she jotted down some notes. “...So instead of slowing down, you decided on doing stunt work?”

Gojo shrugged. “I mean, it seemed like fun.”

“That’s it?”

Uncertainty flashed in Gojo’s eyes when Ai lightly pressed him. “Well, it wasn’t exactly my idea.” He shifted in his chair, an annoyed expression taking over his face as he tried to piece together his answer. “A friend of mine did some stunt work and I was going through a tough time after my injury so…” Gojo gestured vaguely in the air.

Ai nodded as she listened to Gojo. She almost felt bad as she watched him squirm in his chair, but he had made it so hard that she was reveling in it just a bit. “Not Geto or Shoko, right?”

“No…”

Ai nodded and pulled out her phone, pulling up the picture she found of Toji and Gojo together from years ago. “Is this your friend?”

Gojo clicked his tongue at Ai’s question as he looked at the picture. “Where did you find that?”

“Answer my question.”

Gojo tsked and leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“Why hide him?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Gojo replied as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Why does it matter?”

Ai sighed as she looked at Gojo with a frown. “Because I am writing a story about you.” She leaned forward in her seat. “I can’t do that if you hide everything from me.”

Gojo’s jaw tensed, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It was the first time Gojo didn’t have a quick reply to offer. Even when Gojo was uncomfortable, which was rare, he always had something to say, but now he had nothing to ease the pressure.

“So… Fushiguro said his dad helped you get into stunt work.”

“He did.”

“Why be so secretive about that?” Ai pressed.

Gojo sighed and rested his cheek against his palm. He seemed unsure of what to say. “Is this what your article is about?”

“I’d be lying if I said it wouldn’t be an aspect of it, but if it’s Fushiguro-kun that you’re worried about, I’m not going to exploit his past for a story.”

Gojo seemed to relax somewhat and let out a deep breath. It was obvious to see how much he cared for his young co-star just from his body language alone. “I was friends with his dad, Toji.” He admitted. “If anything, he was more of a mentor to me.”

Ai nodded as she listened to Gojo, quickly writing down what she could as he spoke.

“How did you meet?”

“We met at the gym that I trained at,” Gojo explained. “He told me my form sucked, and then we sparred…” He chuckled. “He kicked my ass and then he stole some money from my wallet.”

“Wh–”

Gojo interrupted Ai, continuing on with the story. “He said something like, ‘You’re so bad that you should pay me for beating your ass.’” He broke out into a smile the more he thought about it. “And so I kept bugging him to spar with me, but he would always blow me off.”

“Did he ever spar with you again?” Ai questioned.

Gojo pouted and shook his head. “No, but he started training with me after that...” He looked up at the high ceilings as he tried to remember. “He told me that it would be embarrassing for him to fight someone as weak as me, so I had to work harder if I wanted him to waste his time.”

“He sounds–”

“He was so cool.” Gojo’s eyes sparkled. “I feel like if I hadn’t met him, my life would’ve been completely different.”

“Different how?” Ai felt like she had finally broken down whatever walls were between them. She just needed to push a little bit more.

Gojo shrugged. “Just different.”

“Can you elaborate on that just a little?” Ai asked desperately.

Gojo shook his head. “No.”

Ai’s head dropped in disappointment. She felt like she could cry. Why was he making this so difficult for her? Whenever she took a few steps forward, Gojo would take a step back. Was seeing her struggle like this fun for him?

Probably…

“We can stop here for now,” Ai said as she closed her notebook. She was glad that Gojo talked about Toji, but didn’t want to push him too much.

Gojo gave Ai a skeptical look. “That’s it?”

It was almost as if he was disappointed that Ai didn’t push him for more. She wondered if she did, he would’ve given in to her, but she didn’t want to play with him. She was tired.

Ai nodded and stood up. “Yeah, it’s late and you’re getting grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Gojo pouted as he stood up from his seat.

As Ai made her move to leave the room, she stopped when Gojo called out to her. When she turned back to look at him, he was wearing a wide grin and had his hands in his pockets.

“Wanna go on a walk with me?”

Ai hesitated for a moment. She had to walk to the train station anyway, so if Gojo tagged along with her part of the way, it wouldn’t make any difference to her. Maybe the walk would do them both good.

“Fine.”

“Let’s go then! I can’t stand to be here any longer,” Gojo said as he pushed Ai out the door.

Once they were out of the hotel building, Gojo walked a few steps behind Ai. It made her anxious. She could feel his eyes on her. She felt that if she looked over her shoulder at him, she would meet her untimely demise. Not that Gojo would attack her, but all the swirling anxieties that she had felt for the past week and a half had her on edge.

Ai sighed and tried her best to imagine as if Gojo wasn’t there and she was just walking to the train station like she normally would. It seemed to have worked, but then Gojo opened his mouth.

“Hey, let’s stop here really quick.” Ai looked over her shoulder and Gojo was pointing at a Lawson’s. “I want a snack.”

He walked into the convenience store without waiting for Ai’s reply. She debated on ditching him but opted against it. He made her nervous, but that didn’t mean she should be an asshole in return. As Ai walked through the sliding doors, she wandered over to the coolers, looking for a drink.

“You buying something?” Gojo asked as he peered down at the drinks with her.

“...Thinking about it. You?” Ai mumbled as she continued to look over her options.

“I already paid.”

Ai glanced over at him, and he had a bag already in hand. She was unsure if Gojo was inhumanly fast like the character he played or if she was just so lost in thought that it dulled all her other senses. Not wanting to waste any more time, she grabbed a Calpico and went to the self-checkout. It wasn’t necessarily what she had in mind when she went to pick a drink, but the almost too sweet flavor was something she felt she needed.

They walked outside the store together quietly. Although it was late, people were still walking through the streets of the city.

“Aren’t you tired of doing interviews?” Ai asked as she unscrewed the cap of her drink and took a sip.

Gojo chuckled. “This is nothing.” He unwrapped a melon pan and took a bite, chewing it thoughtfully before continuing. “It’s boring, but I try to have fun with it, keeps it interesting.”

Ai nodded, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. Despite his casual demeanor, she could hear the tiredness in his voice. “You make it look really easy.”

Gojo flashed Ai a relaxed grin. “That’s the idea, gotta keep everyone entertained.”

They continued walking in silence, the soft glow of the streetlights illuminating the sidewalk. Ai found herself relaxing a bit, the tension from earlier slowly melting away.

“Can I ask you something personal?” Ai asked after a few moments, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Unfortunately, yes, I am still single,” Gojo joked and gave Ai an exaggerated sad look.

Ai rolled her eyes. “I’m being serious.”

“Sure,” Gojo smiled, his tone inviting.

“...Earlier, you mentioned that your life would have been different if you hadn’t met Toji.” Ai paused as she tried to think of how to phrase her words. “Do you ever wonder what life would be like?”

“Off the record?” Gojo asked.

Ai nodded. “Yeah, off the record.”

Gojo slowed his pace, his expression unreadable as he thought. “...I can’t–I don’t want to think of a world where I didn’t take Megumi and his sister in.” He looked over to Ai, his eyes containing a depth of emotion that she couldn’t comprehend. “I don’t regret how things turned out. If I could go back, I’d do the same thing again each time.”

Ai wasn’t sure how to feel when it came to Gojo’s sincerity. It wasn’t often that he showed this side of himself. She thought carefully about what to say next; she didn’t want him to close himself off again.

“Megumi and his sister mean a lot to you…” Ai said softly.

Gojo nodded, his gaze distant as if he was going back in time. “Everyone thought it was a stupid idea.” He gave Ai a wistful smile. “I hadn’t even finished high school yet when I took them in, but I couldn’t just let them be separated, not after everything that happened.” He explained as he started to walk again. “I think they’ve given my life a greater purpose.”

Ai walked silently with Gojo as she absorbed his words. She felt a newfound respect for Gojo, not just as an actor, but as a person.

“Thank you for sharing with me,” Ai said softly, her voice genuine. “It won’t be in the article, but it helps me understand you better.”

Gojo chuckled. “You’re a good listener, Ai-chan.”

“Thanks, I try,” Ai laughed, feeling the tension in the air lift.

As they continued to walk, Ai couldn’t help but feel that their conversation had given her a deeper insight into Gojo. If he wasn’t walking with her right now, Ai would shout in celebration. It was moments like this that reminded her of why she loved her job–she had finally caught a glimpse of Gojo Satoru. The real Gojo Satoru.

By the time they reached the train station, Ai was beaming with pride. She didn’t care how late it was, she was going to call her mom when she got home. She needed to share her accomplishments with someone.

“Thanks for the walk,” Gojo said as they approached the station entrance. He put his hands in his pockets and gave Ai a more reserved smile than usual.

Ai nodded a small smile on her lips. “Anytime.”

As Ai turned away from Gojo to walk into the station, he called out to her. Ai looked over her shoulder at him.

“Don’t go writing any sappy stories about me, okay?” Gojo said with his usual playfulness. “I have an image to maintain.”

Ai laughed. “No promises. Take care, Gojo.”

“One more thing!” Gojo called out to her.

When Ai looked over her shoulder once more, a small box was tossed in her direction. Instinctively, she reached her hands out to catch it. Once it was firmly in her hands, she looked down at the small rectangular box. It was Chocorooms. She couldn’t help but giggle as she looked down at the box.

“Since I ate them last time.”

Ai glanced up at Gojo and nodded, doing her best to hide the smile taking over her face. “Thanks…”

With a final goodbye, she turned her back to him as she hurried onto the train. A sense of satisfaction washed over her. There was still so much to learn about Gojo, but she felt like she was finally going to be able to write an article about him that did him some justice.

#jujutsu kaisen #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x oc #jjk gojo fic #gojo fic

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mythicamagic · 2 years ago

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Sukuna's Roommate (Sukuna x Reader) Chapter Eight

Summary: The rent is cheap, that's the only reason you're moving into apartment 167 on such short notice. The rent is cheap, you remind yourself again, staring up at the four-armed monster you would be living with. (Female reader x Sukuna)

Warnings: some dubcon moments and general Sukuna stuff i.e: murder. Warning for this chapter: Smut elements

Previous Chapters: One, Two, Three and others can be found on Ao3

--------

What could you say- what could anyone say when gazing at a physical form so unique it failed to compare to anything you’d ever seen? Oh I’d witnessed Sukuna stroll around barely clothed before in the apartment, whistling absentmindedly and reading through a book- but never had I gazed with such unrestricted access to his body. I stood and stared, taking it all in.

On some level, I understood that he was letting me.

Water droplets rolled down from his hair, travelling with such soft, slow descent down his throat and built chest- one could be envious of their prolonged, intimate contact. The bold tattoos only accentuated his image despite rolling steam lapping at his torso. I had to wonder again if the marks were something he’d gained for ritualistic purposes or a pure vanity project because the latter served him well. My eyes travelled downwards. Those gracing his abdomen and the black tattooed rings circulating his toned thighs were especially nice. Perfect for sitting on, really.

However, the…creative decision to have those same double rings tattooed on the shaft of his cocks was a…choice.

It's almost like a gauge stick or something, my mind helpfully whispered. You are thiiiis full of him-

I choked on my own saliva, causing Sukuna to arch a brow.

Shaking my head and blinking rapidly as my eyes began to burn, I could only conclude- in my very sensible and not distracted brain- that Sukuna was, most definitely, one kinky motherfucker.

He flashed me a lazy grin as if to confirm the thought. His lower hands came to perch on meaty hips, freehands spreading wide. “Well? Have you had your fill of gawking? I think it's about time you stripped too. Give me something to look at while we’re at it.”

“A-at what?” I tried thinly, returning from my vacation to Hornyland to focus on the here and now. “I- no, first of all, where are we? Why did you drop me here- and would you please sit down already or cover up?!” my hand shot out to cover the image of the two dicks. It didn’t work. I could still see them. I’d likely always see them, forever.

“It's a bit late to be acting shy when you just devoured me with your eyes, woman,” Sukuna’s voice held a note of exasperation. “You said you wanted a spar. This is as good as.”

“A hot spring carved out of- is that a giant spine above us?! Oh god, are we inside one of your dead enemies or something? That explains the water colour,” I gawked at the structure of bones looming far above, looking reminiscent of a ribcage. “Anyway- none of this is what I’d call a spar!”

Sloshing water caught my attention. Like some kind of leftover prey instinct, I shifted backwards on impulse, plastering myself against the side of the pool as a large shadow swallowed me whole. Sukuna was even worse up close.

His usual malevolent energy and deceptively easy-going smile felt amplified, to the point he was fixated and intent. Intent on what, I didn’t want to entertain the idea of. He was so…big. Overbearing in both size and presence.

My stomach jumped at the first twitch of his fingers, as if wanting to reach for me- and I twisted, grabbing hold of the pool’s rim to haul myself up desperately from the water and collapse onto the side above. Before I could make more than a single pathetic flail away in escape, a weight settled on my back.

Sukuna’s large palm pressed down between my shoulder blades, and as I wheezed like an accordion, I realized that was what he wanted. An amused noise rang out from above in response as my lungs compressed.

His fingers dragged against the shirt plastering to my flushed skin- before flipping me over, causing my head to thunk on the black-stone floor. That weight returned, this time pressing heavy on my sternum and pinning me in place.

Harsh, quickened panting filled the air. My breaths were coming fast and heavy. I didn’t understand why. He hadn't even done anything yet. Hadn’t spoken about any plans to kill or fuck.

But it was there, in his eyes. A nonchalant curiosity. A caprice that he could commit either.

“Lift up your skirt,” he commanded in a calm, reverberating tone.

My mouth went dry. Despite myself, heat shot down to my core, inspiring my thighs to lock tight together. If I wasn’t dripping earlier at the mere sight of him, there could be little doubt now.

“S-sukuna,” I shuddered, gripping his hand on my chest. I could feel my lungs- uncomfortably struggling. His weight sank lower, heavier- and I wheezed breathlessly again. An unspoken reminder.

He could do anything he wanted.

I could be a crushed pile of meat and bones in two seconds flat. No better than the other skulls I’d glimpsed littered around the area. The concept of being so helpless shouldn't have made arousal spike in my abdomen. My legs shifted, inner thighs feeling suspiciously heated and wet.

Sukuna’s pupils remained fixated, the red of his eyes glowing fiercely as my shaking fingers abandoned the hold on his hand to travel downwards. I held his gaze the entire time. There was no other word for it but spellbound. A brief battle between shame and intrigue took place inside me. My fingers curled in the soaked fabric of my skirts as intrigue won out- and slowly, I began dragging the material upwards to bunch at my waist-

“BWA- HA- HA- HA!”

I started badly. Obnoxious laughter echoed through the dark space, ringing straight into my bones. It eventually shifted, dying down into merry chuckles as Sukuna shook his head, mirth shining in all four of his eyes. “Ahhh you take everything so seriously. A truly earnest pet.”

I gaped, and could only lay there frozen. The look he shot me was nothing short of sadistic. “What? Did you think it would be that easy?”

“Excuse me?!”

He chuckled with mock dismay, lifting himself off me. “I know you’ve pleasured yourself to the thought of me, woman. I know how frustrated you’ve been- and how that encounter with your ex-owner probably wound you so tight you’re bursting at the seams for some relief. I know, so you don’t need to say it. But…passively lying there…” he tilted his head with a kind of mercurial smile- as if his mood could change suddenly and his words weren't said with feeling. It dawned on me (with a twinge of humiliation) that it was all passive amusement. “Seeing you like this isn't enough to whet my appetite,” he lifted a shoulder, confirming my suspicions. Something in my expression must’ve exposed me, because Sukuna gave a patronizing smile, leaning in close. “If you want me-” his lips were suddenly pressed against my ear, crooning in a low yet harsh whisper: “If you want me to fuck you like I mean it, try a little harder. Don't tell me you're giving up already~ you'll break my little heart.”

Of all the arrogant bastards. Fire rocketed through my veins, fueled by my shame and anger.

"I hate you," I managed to grit out, wanting to hide under a rock. Only he would frighten, arouse and then reject a girl all in the spade of a few minutes.

It probably stung all the more that for all my big talk and avoidance, I'd been prepared to give in so easily a moment ago.

Sukuna just straightened and rolled his shoulders, both arms stretching themselves like he was preparing for a workout.

“Anyway, I did promise you a spar. C’mon.”

“W-what the hell are you-?!”

He grabbed me without another word. I was suddenly acquainted with his back, hovering quite close to his sculpted ass as Sukuna strode into a smaller pool with my limp body thrown over one shoulder. He had a very cute butt. Knowledge I did not need to know.

"Again, I ask, and stress- what the hell?" I droned.

A hand pet my thigh. “Bath time. Don’t you know your onsen etiquette? You’re supposed to wash off before entering the hot springs.”

The world spun as Sukuna swung me up again like a ragdoll, and I found myself plunged into cool water. It took a moment to register the firm press of thighs cushioning my legs- a warm slab of body heat leaning against my back.

I was sitting directly on his naked lap. Sukuna didn’t miss a beat, pouring a jugful of water over my head to rinse off the day’s events, massaging his fingers into my scalp.

“Good. Good pet," he crooned in my ear.

I stared uncomprehendingly ahead of myself. I could probably live a thousand years and never understand Sukuna’s whims.

I sucked in a hard breath as his fingers cruelly worked their magic. Despite myself, I felt some tension abate. “All of this is so surreal,” I murmured. A damn understatement.

“For a brat like you, sure.”

“You talk like that a lot,” I mused, swatting his hands away when they attempted to peel my blouse off. “Like you're ancient or something. Everything going on is so far from what I know about the world. Your buddies were like that too.”

“I thought I told you those cretins weren't my friends.”

I twisted on his lap to glimpse his narrow eyes. The sting of rejection had abated slightly now that I’d surfaced from that need he’d briefly instilled only to cruelly douse. I bit my lip, considering how to best phrase what I wanted to know.

Sukuna bounced his leg like a bucking horse, making me almost topple off his thigh. “Spit it out if you’ve got something on your mind. I’m in a chatty mood, lucky for you.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, steadying myself on his bicep. “Well I just…wanted some context.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t know anything about you or the world you live in. If we’re going to keep being roommates, I think I’m owed some answers. You mess around with me so much I feel like I'll go crazy soon if I'm not given something to work with.”

“Heh, for a woman you sure do own a set of balls sometimes," Sukuna dumped another helping of cool water over my head. I sputtered as my hair swamped my face as a result. "You bounced back from my teasing pretty quickly too. Guess that means I'm becoming predictable."

I felt more than saw Sukuna pick me up again under my thighs, one hand cradling my ass and giving liberal squeezes to it. He stepped down the rocks back into the hot spring, settling into the water with me. The shock of warmth made me softly gasp.

"Let's see…the short answer is that I was around a long time ago. I made quite a name for myself, some might say," he smirked, but as I listened I could tell he was skipping large amounts of information. "Let's hazard a guess and estimate that it was the Heian Era of Japan when I was finally brought down by Jujutsu Sorcerers. My spirit was too strong to be banished even in death, tied to this mortal coil by my remains. 20 of my fingers," he mused, one of his free hands picking up a saké bottle out of the rocks lining the side of the pool. "They were all sealed away. Until that is- a few years ago one brat brought me hurtling back. I incarnated into his body the moment he swallowed one of my fingers."

I stared. "I have so many questions. Mostly about context."

"I'm not about to give it," Sukuna shrugged, pouring himself a drink and taking a languid sip. "Anyway, I eventually got free of the brat."

"Oh…you separated from his body?"

"Heh, I killed him,” Sukuna drawled, smiling with nostalgia over the rim of his cup. "Ripped my second pair of arms right out of his back and kept going until his old flesh was replaced by my new one. All that remained of the boy was the discarded ribbons of skin and muscle at my feet. Snakeskin, I guess you could call it, nothing more than a shedding process."

He seemed to pick up on the elongated silence. My lips were thin, eyes narrow.

"You're disgusted,” Sukuna astutely observed.

"Believe me, it's a common emotion around you."

He chuckled richly, lifting his cup in a mock toast. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"You said you were a big deal but- what exactly did you do to piss off the- uh, Jujutsu Sorcerers, was it?" I had no clue what those even were, but for some reason, the hand sign Sukuna had made earlier came to mind. Sorcerers. So did they use magic?

Sukuna leaned his head back on the heated rocks, groping my ass absentmindedly with little squeezes reminiscent of a cat making biscuits. "I drank, fought, fucked and ate to excess. I raised villages to the ground and made love to war, and took delight in fighting only the strongest of opponents. It was truly a great era of fun and calamity."

"But…y-you're not levelling cities anymore th-" I cut myself off, remembering something. How Shibuya was nothing more than rubble now. Sukuna seemed to read the direction of my horrified thoughts. He tilted his chin down to catch my eyes with all four of his. His lips twitched, expression showing a complete lack of remorse. "That was just a little something I did to torment the brat. If your cities are still standing today, it's only due to my own disinterest in breaking them yet."

"Where are the Sorcerers now? Surely they- they know you're around, right?"

"I killed several of their strongest members when I shed my former vessel," Sukuna shrugged, gaze sliding away. "Unfortunately, in one last pissy act, one of them sealed the majority of my power. I won't reclaim everything I once was for another hundred years or so. Pity you won't be alive to see it, pet."

So that was it. He was biding his time. Waiting until he could enjoy himself to the fullest degree. I wagered, based on his personality and supposed love of fighting- that he was waiting for the Sorcerers to rebuild and challenge him again. That was why he hadn't completely eradicated their forces.

He toyed with everyone as he pleased. He set things into motion on purpose just to watch people struggle and fall. It was the height of enjoyment and entertainment in his eyes.

I'd spent time with rude, selfish men before. Cruel, men. None of them measured up to Sukuna.

Truly, this man was a monster.

"You're…I…" I tried to say something. Anything. A rude, disparaging comment. A curse. I found that I couldn't- as if a veil had been lifted and I was suddenly hyper-aware of the oppressive force of energy he held at bay. A deep, dark lake of malevolence.

Sukuna’s lips curved into a smile that slowly widened, his eyes crinkling as sharp teeth exposed. His shoulders shook like he was stifling a laugh.

"You're a- a brute…" I croaked.

He set down his alcohol with an air of finality. "Is that all you could come up with? Poor pet. Did I turn your brains to soup? That's no good. I still haven't extracted enough entertainment out of you yet."

He gave a weary sigh, shifting as though he intended to get up. "Tch, it was a short bath but if you're going to demand bedtime stories and then bitch about the endings then I'll seek satisfaction elsewhere. Lousy little-"

My heart stuttered. "Wait."

I leaned back on his hips, a kind of surreal clarity settling over my shoulders. Purpose, I realised. I had a purpose now. Something I could do. It wasn't noble or good or something like that but if it meant curbing Sukunas appetite and attention to me, and sparing someone else, there was value in that.

If I could pull it off.

My fingers shook a little as I pulled my damp blouse off. This seemed to catch his vague interest. I quickly continued to undress until I'd kicked off my skirt and was left in bra and panties. I made sure to hold his gaze then- and reached behind myself to unhook the clasp, grinding my lower half slowly against his cock and inching higher- pressing my clothed sex to his stomach mouth. The hard line beneath me twitched and curved into a smile.

Sukuna watched patiently, observing my newly freed breasts with a kind of lazy acknowledgement. A purring tiger. He caught my eye as his hand on my ass dragged- claws skimming- cutting in, and I felt exposed and cold for a moment- like a piece of meat on display. I pushed past the feeling, sober to the sensation of my blood rising in small welts on my ass. I leaned up, and cupped his cheek, feeling a jolt of heat where our skin made contact. Our chests pressed flush together. I'd never been so willingly close to his face before.

It was handsome but marked with cruelty. Not an inch of softness to be found.

"Don't go. Please…" I spoke lowly, and- hopefully enticingly. "I'll entertain you."

Red eyes narrowed. He lurched in my hold- barking a sudden laugh and startling me. "Ha! Ahahaha- I was wondering what you'd do…but I didn't expect this. You think you can save lives by distracting the hungry dragon for a little while, huh? Didn't think you were so noble, pet."

Neither did I. What the hell was I doing?

His own, larger hand cupped my cheek, but a hot wet sensation flicked out. I jolted as it licked down to my chin in a crude mockery of my gentle touch. His tattooed tongue retreated back into his palm, grinning at me like his stomach. "If you really believe you can keep me here and sated then go ahead and try. Heh, this could be fun."

I narrowed my eyes in turn. He could talk big, but as I figured: he was a guy. Albeit a more sadistic, murderous one- but a guy nonetheless. Nowhere in his story had he stated he’d been born an otherworldly being, so he’d once been as human as anyone. All it would take was finding a few of his tells and preferences.

I boldly grasped his thick wrist in a hard grip, pulling it closer. He wasn’t a normal guy though- and that meant getting creative if I wanted to keep his attention.

I engaged a part of my mind I’d shut away- the party girl who would dance on tables and have sex in dirty bathrooms with strangers. Shame bloomed, painting my cheeks red before my tongue slipped out and I took two of his fingers into the hot cavern of my mouth. This was the easy part, of course. A fairly standard move as I licked and sucked at the digits, before pursuing what I was really after and abandoning them to chase the tattooed tongue lulling out of Sukuna’s palm, twining mine with it and sucking.

Sukuna’s thighs tensed beneath my free hand, and I began grinding again, working on getting him hard with the first caress of his shaft. There were two cocks to choose from, but I picked at random, stroking it with firm strokes and teases of my fingers. He felt hot and heavy against my hand, a nice vein running along the side of one to his twitching head.

The mouth inside his palm engaged me eagerly, pushing past my lips and perhaps intending to make me gag with the full force of intrusion. I eased away a little and licked and kissed at his teeth within, allowing myself to draw back only once I was panting. I then guided his saliva-dripping palm down my chest, arching into his palm and mewling as its tongue and teeth closed down, sucking. Pleasure shot blisteringly hot and fast down my spine. A hard breath sucked between my teeth.

It took real effort to keep eye contact with Sukuna, who watched my efforts with that same serene smile.

"I see you've learned a few moves,” he acknowledged evenly. “Did the boys you fucked before cum at the slightest touch?"

The image of my reflection in a groggy mirror came to mind, hugging my naked torso as I sat used and discarded on a bed. "Something like that."

"And I bet they left you oh so dry and aching in return…" he purred with a chuckle, wrapping a freehand around the back of my neck. “Never did understand why villages would offer me virgin sacrifices to spare their lives. They broke so easily. Whores were always much more preferable.”

Hot breath suddenly huffed out from between my legs. I felt the foundation beneath me shift as Sukuna’s stomach mouth finally opened. His large tongue snaked out to probe, wrapping teasingly around my thighs in slow languid strokes, as if tasting me.

My cunt clenched hard in response, and I didn’t have to act this next part. Sukuna adjusted his grip on my neck to keep eye contact with me- the teeth at my breast scraping in a harsh nip that made my blood sing. “You’ve been starving for this in particular, haven't you? Go ahead and eat then.”

His offer was as benevolent as a God to his devoted follower. I lost strength in my thighs and pushed down, nudging my clothed sex needily against his wet, muscular organ that rose up just as eagerly to meet me.

Thank fuck-

His stomach mouth enclosed the entirety of my lower half inside, my thighs straining as I sought to keep straddling him- but a broken noise escaped my mouth. That noise rose high into a yowling, pleasured keen.

“A-Aaa-aah!”

The tongue had pried straight against my clit- nudging teasingly- until the entirety of his mouth pressed in harder with one deep suck. I didn't even have time to worry about his teeth crowning my sex. He could quite literally bite me in half. I was submerged in the wet cavern of that death trap and happy to be there as Sukuna's stomach sucked again and again, the pressure more intense than any oral I'd ever experienced before.

My hips moved entirely on their own. They ground and bucked desperately, seeking friction while my core ached to be filled. Fuck.

The mouth at my breast wasn’t to be ignored- and it clamped down with a harsh bite just as his stomach mouth undulated with the force of another suck, large teeth soon scraping at my panties and catching in the material, pulling until a sizable seam ripped through. The shock of it ripped an orgasm straight through me.

"A-ah!- gn- hah!"

It was when his stomach tongue pried at my entrance that I realised my folly. My hand had grown slack and lazy against his tattooed cock. How could I ever hope to concentrate and outmatch Sukuna when he had more tools at his disposal than I could ever hope to wield?

For his part, Sukuna watched me with the air of a majestic king from on high. He smiled mercifully, as if generously forgiving me for forgetting him and seeking my own pleasure. It was what he’d encouraged me to do, after all.

He brought yet another meaty hand to my ass- giving it a sharp smack. I yelped, gasping on a pant as the tongue occupied between my thighs pushed a little more insistently, seeking to slip inside as it lapped at my entrance again and again. “You get it now?” Sukuna cooed. “Give up any noble ambitions about distracting me and chase what feels good.”

I grit my teeth, eyes squeezing shut as his stomach tongue finally pushed in- the slick tip worming its way into my entrance. At the last moment, I lurched. Sukuna’s eyes widened as I broke free from his grip, freefalling for all of two seconds to wrap my arms around his neck. Before he could utter one word- I shoved my mouth over his own. His true, cruel lips felt surprisingly soft compared with the ones on his palm and stomach. It made me feel a little cruel myself to bite down on his bottom lip but it was necessary.

My eyes slide open to look directly into his.

You will pay attention to me, damn you.

Sukuna’s mouth shifted against my own, paralysed with surprise. He recovered soon enough. My cheeks were then claimed in his grip. His tongue and teeth sought me with a vengeance. My lashes fluttered shut as all my concentration was poured into those hard, punishing kisses. His teeth bit at my lips so hard and insistent I was sure to bruise. Blunt nails bit harsh crescent moons into his nape in return- and I felt him shudder in delight. The kisses shifted a little, easing up from the pain into surprisingly skillful brushes of his tongue against mine, stroking the roof of my mouth and exploring.

I found myself oddly leaning after his lips as he stopped.

“That was- hah- interesting," Sukuna panted, pulling away slightly with a new type of grin. Awakened, lively. The red in his eyes shined brighter than ever, like bloodied rubies.

His clawed hand shifted to grab my chin, and he studied my face with more enthusiasm than before.

“Heheh, okay- I feel warmed up now!" He said with gusto, bouncing me on his stomach. As a result- his frozen stomach tongue thrust deeper, burying itself inside my cunt to the brim. It wrung out a desperate yelp as it began exploring with a vengeance. His image blurred as tears welled up in my eyes, overstimulated to the max as I felt my insides turn to mush, that tongue rubbing against every inner wall so deliciously it should've been illegal. I'd never felt so stuffed full yet stimulated at the same time.

Sukuna's hand almost felt gentle as it petted my hair. "Keep going," he encouraged. "More...give me more of your best, woman. I won't settle for anything less.”

#sukuna jjk #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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thethirdamell · 4 years ago

Text

Problems

I wanted to do something for the 2021 Handers Gift Exchange (@handers-time - Thank you for setting this up.) so I wrote a tiny one-shot as an extra gift for @un-shit-yourself about Werewolf Hawke. I hope you like it! Ao3 Link

—

Hawke made a face. Hawke made a lot of faces, but Anders had never seen him make that particular face before. It looked downright feral, golden eyes gleaming in the dimly lit caverns of Darktown, a snarl curling his lip beneath his mustache and revealing impressively pointed teeth Anders may or may not have imagined sinking into his shoulder while Hawke fucked him silly right there in his clinic.

Anders didn’t think about it at first.

He mentioned, off-handedly, that Gallard had been giving him problems. A game of Wicked Grace gone wrong. Sure, maybe betting his ear hadn’t been the brightest idea, but Anders had more body parts than coin most days, so what else was he supposed to bet? He’d had a good hand - no, scratch that, he’d had a great hand - but Gallard had better, because Gallard cheated, and Anders knew Gallard cheated, but he’d played with Gallard anyway.

So, the ear. Anders rather liked his ears. They were where he kept his earrings, after all, and maybe it was greedy of him to want to keep both of them, but no one had ever accused him of being generous. No one except for Hawke, in that damned flirtatious way of his, smirking with one too many teeth about how if Anders was going to keep giving things away to refugees he could sure use a shirt just like the one Anders was wearing now if he wanted to take it off.

Anders wasn’t sure how that conversation had swung back around to Gallard, but swung it had, and Hawke had made a face. Hawke made a lot of faces, but Anders had never seen him make that particular face before. It looked downright feral, golden eyes gleaming in the dimly lit caverns of Darktown, a snarl curling his lip beneath his mustache and revealing impressively pointed teeth Anders may or may not have imagined sinking into his shoulder while Hawke fucked him silly right there in his clinic.

Anders was sure they’d kept talking, but the rest of the conversation was wind. He was too distracted by the sheer wildness that came out whenever Hawke was passionate about something. It manifested in the way he moved, powerful hands doing all of his talking for him while Anders imagined all the other things those hands could have been doing. Fisting in his hair, pulling his head back and exposing his throat for Hawke to worship, holding him against the wall aaaaand Hawke was gone.

Sigh.

Hawke took his hands with him when he left. Anders wondered if he could get him to bet them in a game of Wicked Grace. Now there was a bet Anders would have been more than happy to match. Hawke could have his hands, and his cock, and flames take him, Hawke could have the rest of him while he was at it. Gallard though. Gallard was not his type and Gallard could not have his ears and Anders was just going to have to set that expectation the next time he came knocking, but Gallard never did.

He just vanished.

Which was nice. It was nice that he vanished, but the thought of him popping up again was not so nice, and Anders was not looking forward to that happening, so it was even nicer when he stumbled across Gallard’s corpse. Someone had stuffed it down a coal chute, and someone else had opened said coal chute, and that poor someone was him. Gallard, or what was left of him, came flopping out, half-rotten from a week of decay and covered in soot.

Anders stumbled back, gagging, but there was no mistaking the elf. Anders would recognize those reflective eyes anywhere. They were a shade like old moss, an expression of abject terror on Gallard’s face over whatever he’d seen just before he’d died. Anders didn’t doubt it was horrifying - considering it had eaten him. Just a little. Just his ears, crunched off both sides of his skull, so Anders didn’t think about it.

It seemed like a hate crime. Hate crimes happened in Kirkwall, but then it happened again. Anders mentioned, off-handedly again, that guardsman Orwald had been giving him problems too. Badgering the refugees. Demanding protection money and destroying shelters when he didn’t get it and confiscating their belongings in the process. Aveline promised to look into it - the same sort of way she promised to look into everything - but Hawke had made that face.

Guardsman Orwald stopped showing up for duty. Guardsman Orwald started showing up around the undercity. A hand here. A foot there. A conspicuously gnawed upon torso and a chewed up thigh. Guardsman Orwald kept showing up around the undercity for a whole month before they finally found all of him - or all that was left of him - and Anders finally started thinking about it.

He mentioned, maybe not so off-handedly, that Ser Mettin had been giving him more problems. Harassing the Mage’s Collective. Knocking down the doors of mages and mage sympathizers and outright killing them without even trying to capture them, and Hawke made that face. Anders followed him that evening, and Hawke followed Ser Mettin, out of the Hanged Man and down one of Lowtown’s many alleys, but Hawke wasn’t dressed for a fight.

He was wearing what Hawke always wore: a cheap pair of trousers and a cheaper tunic. The kind of clothes that would be lucky to last one fortnight and fell apart in two. He didn’t even have a weapon outside of his knuckles, but he spent plenty of time cracking each one when he cornered Mettin in the alleyway. “I heard you have a problem with mages,” Hawke growled.

“You’re going to have a problem if you don’t keep walking, serah,” Ser Mettin shot back, a hand to the hilt of his sword, and damned if Hawke wasn’t outmatched. Ser Mettin was in full armor, iron cuirass emblazoned with the flames of Andraste’s pyre and the sword Hessarian used to run her through when she burned on it. Anders hated the heraldry. It said everything it needed to say about how templars treated mages. About what templars did to them.

They called it mercy.

They called it justice.

They should have called it murder.

A surge of righteous anger burned through him, like the Veil tore inside him, and hands of molten lyrium were trying to claw their way out of the Fade. Anders took a deep breath - and then another - trying to calm down, to force it back, to shut the door, to keep from becoming what he knew he was meant to be. Not here. Anders couldn’t lose it here - but apparently Hawke could.

“I like problems,” Hawke smirked. “I like causing them.”

Hawke-...

Hawke changed.

His body warped and contorted, the crack of bones and snapping of tendons like something out of Anders’ nightmares. Maker, he looked like a man possessed, ripping apart his shirt as his shoulders expanded past it. Claws tore through his fingers and toes, ripping apart his cheap leather shoes, and he changed. He changed into Rage. It had to have been Rage - and Hawke had to have embraced it - but Rage burned. This-...

This howled. Hair - no, fur - claimed every inch of Hawke’s skin, and all at once, he wasn’t Hawke. He was-...

He was a wolf.

He was a bloody werewolf.

“Demon!” Ser Mettin screamed, wrenching his sword from his scabbard only for Hawke to swat it aside with a vicious swipe of one massive hand - paw? - that shredded Ser Mettin’s gauntlets and took off three of his fingers. They bounced across the street like scraps of meat thrown to the floor of a banquet hall to be swallowed up by the sort of slathering mabari Hawke seemed to have become.

Hawke dove on him, powerful claws tearing through iron and flesh and painting the wall with Ser Mettin’s blood when Hawke pinned him to it. Ser Mettin drew a dagger from his hip with the only hand he had left, driving it into Hawke’s shoulder again and again, but he might have been using a feather for all Hawke seemed to notice. Bloodied claws dug into Ser Mettin’s shoulders, and before he could even scream, Hawke’s fangs were in his throat.

Chunks of flesh and veins caught in his teeth, and mingled with drool the longer Hawke kept his death grip on the wailing templar. Ser Mettin’s grip on his dagger went slack, his attempts to fight Hawke off growing weaker and weaker as he bled out, until the life finally fled from his eyes. Hawke kept hold of him, seemingly lost to the ecstasy of his kill, a satisfied rumble from somewhere deep in his chest filling the silence of the night with the steady drip of Mettin’s blood.

Hawke swallowed whatever was left of Mettin in his mouth, and dropped him in the process. He ran his paws - hands? - over his head and through his midnight fur, the color so dark it absorbed any traces of blood before licking his muzzle clean. Anders watched - frozen, fascinated - when Hawke turned and noticed him.

Starlight glinted off his golden eyes, as gorgeous in this form as any other, and for one miserable moment Anders was terrified he’d lost him. That Hawke had given into this form the way so many mages gave into their own demons. That he was just Rage and there was no getting him back and Anders had lost him the way he’d lost Karl and-

And he was fine.

And he was naked.

Hawke clamped his hands over his crotch - as wide-eyed and panicked as if Anders had just walked in on him in the wash. He spun in a fast circle and snatched up a blood-drenched bit of cloth that made as poor a loincloth as it had a tunic.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Hawke said.

“It looks like you’re a werewolf,” Anders said.

“Okay…” Hawke cleared his throat. “I guess it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“When were you going to tell me?” Anders demanded, picking his way across the bloody abattoir Hawke had made of the alleyway to his side.

“Now?” Hawke decided.

“Now would be good,” Anders reached out to wipe some of the blood from his face. Hawke turned a shade of red to match it, apparently more concerned by the fact that Anders had seen him naked than the fact that Anders had seen him transform, but after watching him kill a templar, Anders honestly couldn’t say which sight was more appealing.

“I’m a werewolf,” Hawke said. “Is that-... Is that a problem?”

Anders grinned, “I like problems.”

#anders #handers #dragon age #handers gift exchange #m!handers #werewolves #werewolf!hawke #on god I hope I am doing this right #because I have never done this before and idk what I'm doing #despite the deceptive summary there is no smut here #soz #just gore

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thecameronchronicles · 2 years ago

Text

The Rebound

TW: Angst due to breakup. Smut. Language. Cheating. Praise kink.

SUMMARY: Your breakup with Rafe leads you into the unexpected comfort of Ward.

WORD COUNT: 1700

REQUESTED

I love all your writing but the Ward fics so good!!! Can you do one where Rafe broke up with reader and when she’s leaving tannyhill crying her eyes out she runs into Ward and he invites her into his office because he wants to know what’s wrong with her and when she tells him about Rafe he feels bad and tells her a bunch of sweet things that kind of calms her down and she kisses him and he’s surprised at first but then he takes her to his room and fucks her

The Rebound

You weren't sure what you should have expected as he was emotionless from the moment you had begun dating him. And yet the bitter sting of his words had been enough to make you question every ounce of self esteem you had accumulated until now. All because his reason for breaking that bond of monogamous trust had been for a friend of yours he had been sleeping with behind your back. The signs had been visible enough to warrant warnings from your other friends. And yet, it was not enough until he attempted to blame you for his inability to remain devoted that you understood that initial hesitancy when everyone began to learn of your relationship. But despite that cautionary care, you were blinded by the glamor of his life and the rush of his touch. But it had done nothing to mend how cold he could be.

Tears blinded you enough that you hadn't noticed the sudden body make its way into the hallway as he'd heard your steps.

"Whoa, everything okay?" Ward asked as he saw the state of your usually polished appearance. Even if you were not pristine in the natural effortlessness Sarah had, the state in which you were in at this moment had been enough for him to understand you were disheveled both physically and emotionally. Soft eyes made red and puffy from tears. Sniffles interrupting the deception you attempted to explain. He saw through it all as he invited you into his office.

"Here..." He offered a tissue from a box, disposing of it in disregard at his back while leaning on the edge of his desk and refocusing on you.

"I'm sure whatever it is will work itself out between the two of you."

"Not this time..."

"I'm sure it feels that way now..."

"No, Mister Cameron. It's over." The words made your tears return. "He's been sleeping with Scarlett...He told me I was too..." You paused.

"It's okay. You can talk to me...I do have two daughters, remember?" You nodded, feeling desperate to talk about it to someone. And since your friends were his and they would take his side in probability, you relinquished your innermost thoughts to him.

"He told me I wasn't experienced enough. That she was...that she knew how to please him and he...he pitied me-"

Ward paused for a second before leading a tissue to your cheek.

"Can I be honest?"

You nodded.

"Rafe is choosing a girl, not a woman. A mometary...fling because he's scared and in disregard to a good thing when he has it. The problem is that you are good for Rafe and he lived through his vices. You are too..."

"Boring?"

"Mature." You scoffed.

"Mature enough to want to go home and drown myself in every sugary food I can find?" He smirked as if he understood somehow.

"Mature enough to know how to handle a relationship. And I was hoping he would have done this before you got too invested. Because I didn't want to see you get hurt...You are a very smart and sweet girl...a bright future and..." You became lost at his kind words, becoming entranced by the way he captivated you with such adjectives that Rafe couldn't even fathom, let alone offer in conviction. But you heard them from Ward now. And they were offered with such determination and passion that you actually believed them.

You became lost in his words. In his kindness. In him. Enough that you hadn't realized your action until feeling his reservation. The surprisingly soft warmth of his lips stilled to yours would prompt you quickly into retraction.

"I'm so sorry, oh my God...Mister Cameron, I'm SO sorry...you were just so sweet and I'm...I'm an emotional wreck, I'm-"

"It's okay..." He breathed slowly, as if to consider his next words carefully, as his eyes cast momentarily to the side to think in silence.

"I have never wanted to disappear or take anything back more than-"

"That's disappointing..." Your eyes flashed to him as he set a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. "Because I don't regret it."

"Mister Cameron, I-"

"But I don't want to be some rebound. Especially to him. So I am going to give you a choice. And before you act with your heart or...your lust...I am asking you to think about it." He took a step further, a palm pressed to each cheek, hard enough to feel that gold ring on his left hand reminding you of Rose, but a touch soft enough to forget to care.

"Walking out those doors of the kitchen, I'll take you home. We will pretend tonight never happened and you'll live your life with this being an unfortunate situation you'll learn from."

"O-or?"

He grinned at your curiosity and enthusiasm.

"Or...You climb those steps to wait in my room. Take off everything but your lingerie. You don't touch anything until I come to you. Not yourself. Not the handle to leave. Which is why I am giving you a moment to think it over. Because once the decision is made, there is no going back either way."

He leaned closer, a soft kiss making your eyes fluttered closed.

"For your consideration..."

But to this, you would steady yourself when looking him dead in the eyes.

"I don't need to consider anything." You taunted before moving to the direction of the steps, looking back at him before climbing those steps.

But he would still leave you in waiting. Even after you had obeyed to perfection. Panties and bra remaining over an otherwise bare physique. It wasn't until you had nearly set out to find him that the door would come open to reveal him pulling the buttons of his sleeves free.

"I'm not going to fuck you." Your eyes narrowed. "But I'm also not going to make love to you." You swallowed hard to his words.

"I'm going to make you come. And I'm going to do it sweetly. In the way you deserve. But I want it understood that this isn't a rebound. This is you giving yourself to me-"

"Yes. Please, Mister Cameron..." He smiled widely.

"Then come here..." You sauntered over to him as he extended his other sleeve, "Help me, would you, sweetheart? I need to save my fingers for...better ambitions." But as you had finished exposing his wrist and moved to the buttons of his shirt, he pulled you to him with a steady conviction. The way you fisted his shirt contradicted the softness of your kiss while he walked you back to the bed.

"I want you on your knees. But not tonight. Not when you've already been crying because of him."

"I don't mind-" He steadied your head between his palms.

"I do, sweet girl. Tonight is about showing you what you deserve. But you have to learn quietly for me...like a good girl." You clenched your jaw at the remark.

"Do you like being my good girl?"

"Yes..." You confessed.

"Then show me...Get on the bed for me..." You obeyed.

"Wider for me..." He motioned to your knees.

"Mmm...I'm going to make you come quickly this first time..." He explained as he unbuckled himself.

"But next time...you're going to feel every inch. Every ounce. Every second." You nodded as he lifted your legs to his hips. But where you expected his cock, he led your two fingers to yourself instead.

"Show me." You kept his eyes to you as you pleased yourself. Only allowed to do so for a moment before he replaced your touch.

"I don't want you to think of anything but how this feels. If you do, if you stall, I'll stop." You nodded before becoming lost in his touch. Those small rubbing turned to gradual flicks before your panties were removed from your hips. Once certain you were delved as deep as him in lust, his fingers were exchanged for his tongue, bjt this would last only a moment.

"Please, Mister Cameron!" His hand wrapped around your mouth.

"Quietly, sweetheart. I won't let anyone interrupt us." He finally sunk into you. His cock at a slow pace to lengthen the interaction, all while his fingers and hands groped and twisted at your breasts, doing so somehow gracefully with veiled need.

"So beautiful. Taken for granted...Until now." You nodded as he kissed your exposed skin softly, picking up his rhythm, as he deepened himself into you.

Where Rafe had become vicious in sex, Ward was meticulous. Each thrust purposeful and selfless, strokes of a French kiss or a rush across your clit, all existing solely for you.

"Mister Cameron-" You gasped as that rush emerged from surprise. Your abdomen in a climax to allow it as you were reminded by Sarah’s voice in the hallway that you were not pristine in a loving interaction. This made you dirty, filthy, even.

"You didn't see her leave?!" Rafe asked Sarah angrily as Ward's hand clasped around your mouth in a slow placement.

"Well what did you do?"

"I fucked up, okay? I just-did you see where she went?"

"He had a chance to take care of you, baby. Now it's my turn..." Ward explained as you were trembling at the edge. His hands devoted to your hips and breasts as his motions made him climb to his own climax.

"And I am just getting started..." You breathed quickly beneath him. Every inch of your body drowning in guilt quickly quelled by his descent back between your thighs.

"Mister Cameron-"

"It's okay. You're mine now…I've got you, my good girl…"

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love

#ward cameron x reader #ward cameron fanfiction #ward cameron smut #ward cameron #outerbanks #obx #outer banks smut #obxsmut #obx fanfiction #outer banks

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stormkobra-5 · 2 years ago

Text

Feral Flight

Pairing: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x fem!Reader (A/B/O AU)

Fic Type: Drabble

Summary: You know when your alpha's that calm on the outside that he's a ball of roiling tension on the inside. Whether from a mission gone badly, or just simply his rut, Santiago gets that specific stance-- the narrowed eyes, the clenched jaw, that look in his eyes like he's already calculating the number of ways he can catch you before you reach your safe place. That's how he stands now, in the doorway, not even having removed his vest or weapons from his work. "Run," He says, deceptively calm, and he's hardly finished the word before you're bolting out the door.

A/N: This fic is based off of the sexy sexy answer @lovely-cryptid gave me regarding Santi and these tropes. You can find it here. Thanks for letting me base this little fic off that, babe! ^^ This is also my first time writing for the A/B/O trope, and I used some personal headcanons I have for it as well as following what the general understanding is of it.

Rating/Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, NSFW under the cut, smut, rough smut, pwp(?), A/B/O trope, Primal Play, praise kink, breeding kink, mating kink(?Is that the same thing as a breeding kink?), kinda sex-pollen-ish, unprotected PiV, non-con but not really, pain is involved (not really bad pain, Santi would never hurt anyone he loved but it’s also pain from overstimming and not enough pleasure), knotting, claiming/marking kink, exhibitionism (no one is sees/hears/is aware), very slight choking, dirty talk from our boy Santi, Santi’s rut throws his omega reader into heat, impregnating, mention of getting the reader pregnant, fluff at the end

Ten seconds.

That’s the headstart he gives you, that he always gives you. You’re out the door, already having counted down to 7 by the time you’re on the street. You’re nowhere near fast enough to outrun your alpha, Santiago Garcia, not for long. The key, however, is in tactics. Endurance.

Ex-military, Santi doesn’t even need to follow your scent to track you. With his training, he seems to have superhuman abilities that allow him the edge to almost always catch you before you reach your safe spot. Your only advantage is knowing him— and this city— well.

When you’d first come to South America, brought here by Santi, you didn’t know much. The first time he chased you, he ended up knotting you in an alleyway just minutes from your home. The second time, you’d gotten turned around and he caught you in an empty street. You loved Santi with all your heart— he wasn’t just your alpha, he was your soulmate— so you were never scared of him. No matter how rough he could be, he was never rough enough to hurt you. He’d never take you if you didn’t want it. And he certainly would never put you in any kind of real danger.

And yet, your inner omega feels the thrill of the hunt. Your instincts lead you to take passes he’ll find difficult with his bad knees— stairs, hills, that sort of thing— buying you extra time. One of the only things you’ve discovered that keeps you ahead of him. The second, and only other thing, is pacing yourself. Santi has high endurance despite his bad knees, his training making him faster and stronger in the long run.

Only this time it’s different.

You knew when he left two days ago for his mission that it was risky. That if he forgot to take his suppressants or was unable to, he’d enter a rut— but he’d insisted on going anyway, claiming he could handle it if it came to it. “I’ll be fine, princesa,” He’d assured you. Evidently not. He’d come through the front door with a wild appearance and wilder eyes, his first word to you being “run.” You could smell his state once he’d gotten onto your street, leaving you pacing until he’d all but kicked the door down, chest heaving. His growl sent fire surging through your veins, and although your heat wasn’t due for another week at least, you felt the familiar instinct slam into you without warning. It was the first time it had happened between you, but Santi’s rut had thrown you into early heat. Now you were torn between two urges: the urge to run, and the urge to mate.

So, you may have purposefully avoided that last hill.

You took detours that led you deeper into mostly-abandoned alleyways, a little off-course to your safe place. It’s what you wanted. And judging from his huffs and snarls behind you as he gained ground, it’s what he wanted, too. You risked a glance back once, just long enough to witness him give himself another push of speed. You were tiring, and slowing anyway because of your heat, the slick between your legs making it difficult to run properly. The throbbing ache in your core was growing painful, you needed him.

You took one more turn, into a disused alleyway that’s always abandoned. The old brick wall to the left is crumbling, a barrier between the town and the jungle beyond just over the hill. The buildings on the right are in disrepair, once all part of the same old complex. If Santi was going to catch you, right here was where he needed to do it.

And he did.

Your heart leapt into your throat as Santi collided with you from behind, half-slamming, half-wrestling you down to the worn dirt path. Sandy dust clouded up from the impact, staining your clothes and hair until it looked like you and Santi had been rolling around in it for fun. Despite your sudden heat, you still put up a mock fight against him, struggling against his grip. “Stop. Fighting.” He growled in your ear, wrapping his arms around you until he had you on your knees, arms pinned to your side and him doubled over your back. You could feel his hardness pressing against you through his jeans, sending a flood of arousal to pool between your legs. You both stilled for a second, breathing heavily.

“...Did… Did I hurt you…?” Santi ground out, barely managing the sentence. You shook your head— and your hips. Santi rocked against you, briefly giving in to the urge to dry-hump you for some relief. His voice lowered to a primal state, his hold tightening on you. “You gonna be a good girl?”

“Y-yes–” Your voice cracks as Santi groans when he rocks into you, your eyes rolling back.

Santi helps you to your hands and knees, making sure you’re comfortable. “Tell me if I need to stop,” He breathes in your ear, but you both know that neither of you will be able to. It’s the gesture that counts at this point, you suppose. He reaches around you to undo the belt to your nice jeans, the ones you wore especially for him. He liked how tight they were on you, showing off your curves that only he got to touch. He nips at your ear gently as he starts to unbuckle it, the faintest brush of his fingers against your clothed waist making you whine at the sensation. “You gonna let me mate with you right here, princesa?”

“You’ll keep me safe,” You whispered, gasping as he nuzzled your scent glands with a satisfied hum, his hands slipping your jeans down.

“I will, I promise,” Santi breathes, biting and sucking at your neck, leaving bruising marks; claiming you, marking you, letting everyone know just who you’re mated to– his distinct scent of metal and jungle covered you until your own, more flowery scent was almost entirely disguised. “Ready, pretty girl?”

Your frantic nod was all he needed to push into you, both of you emitting such obscene groans that you’ll be lucky if no one comes to investigate. Overcome by your urges, neither of you can still for more than a few moments.

Santi’s hips start pistoning as he holds you against him, growling and huffing in your ear as he takes you, listening to your loud sobs of pleasure. “I need you to say it, cariño,” He pants between his snarls, snapping his teeth at your ear. “I need your— agh, unh— I need your permission— fuck, baby, please, tell me I can knot you, tell me I can breed you; oh fuck, hermosa— please let me breed you, please—“

You tried, desperately, to say it verbally, but all you could fathom was choked sobs. Santi was filling you, but you weren’t full enough, and despite the fact that he was in charge, he still was begging you for your consent. Your ruts and heats had always been controlled, there was never any real chance of him impregnating you— but here, you know what he’s really asking for. If he claims you here, now, without any of your protection, you will be pregnant. Are you ready for that?

Your lust-addled brain certainly thinks so. The thought of him filling you with his pups has your heart pounding so wildly you’re sure that Santi can feel it. “P-please, Santi—“ It’s all he needed; he shifts positions, allowing you to arch your back and present for him in the classic omega position. He elicits a gasp as he sinks deeper in, bracing himself with a hand on your hip as he scruffs you, fist clenching half in your hair and half around your neck.

Immediately, he begins to pound into you, shouting as you cry out, your instincts sending you into a spiral of insatiable arousal. Anyone could walk around the corner and enter the alleyway, and you wouldn’t care that they’d see a full view of Santi mating with you on the dirt path like an animal. “Santi, Santi,” You sob over and over, and it spurs a filthy stream of expletives in English and Spanish from your alpha.

You both scream as his knot locks you together without warning, expanding within you until you’re more than certain that you’re going to explode; it triggers your own ecstasy, and you clench down on him so hard you feel like your muscles are going to seize up and cease to function. Shaking from the force of your shared orgasm, Santi reaches up to wipe your tears away with a trembling hand, even as he still emptied ropes of his seed deep inside you. “That’s it, that’s a good girl… So good for me, princesa, such a good girl…”

You heave for air as Santi rocks into you in a slow grind, fucking his release deeper into you.

But neither of you are satiated yet.

With a growl, Santi’s hips snap into yours; you whine, feeling his length throbbing within you and needing more. “Santi, I need you, I need you—“

“I know, baby, I know—“

He carefully presses your face into the ground as he pounds into you, chasing another release as he simultaneously tries to get you to yours; your pornographic wails echo in the alleyways when another orgasm is torn from you, the breath roughly punched from your lungs as he slams his pelvis into yours to knot you a second time, shooting his spend into your womb.

He’s barely finished when you’re squirming in his hold, begging him for more. He holds you still, trying to catch his breath. “N-no wait; rest for a second, just rest… Rest…” He’s clearly in pain, rock-hard again already and knot shrinking in preparation for a third round. But yet he still thinks of you, and your heart swells.

Each time after Santi knots you, he makes you rest. He forces himself to rest, near sobbing himself as the pain in his knees worsens with every round; but he can’t, you can’t, fight your instincts long enough to move somewhere else more comfortable.

Neither of you can stop; not until evening starts to set in, when Santi knots you so hard you scream and arch your back into him, when you cum around him so intensely that he yelps from the pressure. Exhausted, whining high in your throats, you grind into each other, trying to catch your breath as you force yourselves to rest; and then, you aren’t forcing yourselves anymore.

Your heat dissipates, leaving you boneless as you slump to the ground, the way eased by Santi’s trembling and uncertain grip as his rut— and his knees— give out. He collapses on top of you with a groan, careful of his weight on yours. Your muddled brain is curious and a little frightened. Your synced ruts and heats had never, ever ceased so suddenly.

It takes several moments for you to catch your breath, and the first thing Santi does is chuckle against the nape of your neck. “Cariño… Your scent changed…” In your blissed-out haze, you don’t quite understand his meaning— not until his hand sneaks under you to protectively splay over your belly, pressing gently there as he nuzzles into your neck with a beaming smile, breathing in your new scent: your old scent that brings him comfort, and your fresh scent which excites him, that of an expecting omega. And when you still don’t get it, he tells you, proud and happy. “...You’re pregnant, dios mio, you’re pregnant, sweetheart, you’re carrying our pups...”

Pregnant. The word rings around in your skull for a minute. You and Santi just made a little set of people— or maybe even more than the standard twins. Inside your womb were your young, a mix of you and your mate. You wondered if they’d look more like him, or like you, or maybe both… You suddenly found yourself overwhelmed for a second, taking deep shuddering breaths as you twisted in Santi’s arms to wrap your arms around his neck. He didn’t let his hand leave your stomach as he pulled out, laying on top of you and pressing adoring kisses to your face.

The tender embrace only lasted a moment before Santi began to weakly struggle to his feet, going into battle mode. He was bracing himself for if he needed to fight, if he needed to protect you. “Come on, princesa. Let’s get you home.”

Despite his bad knees, he refused to let you walk on your own. He stood, he scooped you up in his arms, and he limped carefully back home, where he took a bath with you before helping you into bed. You weren’t very surprised when Santi situated himself so that he was between you and the door, after thoroughly checking to ensure that the windows and doors were locked, both arms wrapped protectively around your stomach and his torso shielding yours. His head laid on your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat as you threaded your fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair.

The reality of the situation was slowly sinking in.

“...We’ll need to move to a better part of the city,” Santi said. You hummed contentedly in response. “Maybe get a real job. One that pays good and keeps me close enough to protect you.” He lifted his head, resting his chin on your collarbone so that his sparkling doe eyes could meet yours. “...You okay?”

You knew that if you weren’t (which you were, completely and then some), Santi would blame himself for being unable to take his rut suppressants. But you were. Kids were something that you had always wanted, especially with Santi; but your situation had never been favorable for any amount of children— or so he’d claimed. You knew he was scared. But you also knew that while it wouldn’t be easy, it wasn’t impossible. You were happy about the sudden change, allowing you something with Santi that he’d never thought he could have had before: a family.

Santi stretched up to nuzzle into your neck with a low purr in the back of his throat as he scented you. “Te amo, cariño.”

“Te amo, Santi.”

Santi trailed his kisses down your throat and past your sternum, pressing a tender kiss to your stomach. “Papá también te ama,” He whispered, and you all but burst into tears. Santi returned to his original protective position, tangling his legs with yours and entwining your fingers together. Feeling warm and safe in his embrace, you fell asleep happier than you’d ever thought possible.

————————————————————————

Thanks for reading! I wrote the first few paragraphs several weeks ago and finally came back to it to finish it up with Red Handed Part 3 before tackling Banks of the Nile: Part 2 and The House of Fett: Part 3.

I wasn’t sure exactly who to tag (because I know a lot of people aren’t into the A/B/O trope) so I limited it to people who I know enjoy or don’t mind that sort of thing: @lovely-cryptid @johnny-simpfinger @marc-spectorr

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader smut #santiago garcia x reader smut #santiago garcia x fem!reader #alpha!santiago garcia #triple frontier #triple frontier au #oscar isaac #oscar isaac hernandez estrada

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plutoswritingplanet · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! Woul you be okay with writing a rough creepy stalker like cnc smut with 001? If do please do thank you, and if not that's okay thank you

My dude, that is literally all I write these days lmao (also, thank you so much for leaving a request, sorry it took so long)

The Skin (Peter Ballard x AFAB!Reader)

a/n: I took that request and ran with it. Idk if that is what you’ve envisioned, but I really wanted to write some Haunted House type thing, so, here we go!

Warnings: NON-CON (i won’t even try to explain myself on this one guys), AU-ish, Haunted House donging, like...kind of body worship? idk man

Summary: You should’ve kept your mouth shut, when your friends told you the legend of the Creel House. Now, here you are, all on your own, it’s dark, and the creaking of the wood sounds suspiciously a lot like laughter.

In your opinion, houses were a lot like people. They could retain memories, etched into the floor boards like grooves on brain matter. They could also bear scars, deep and traumatizing, never to be healed. There is hurt enchanted into the walls of every house, just like a human being's skin.

Despite knowing all of this, here you stand. A small silhouette in front of a towering building. Blackened windows stare back at you, daring you to come closer. There is a deceptively sweet stained-glass rose, overlooking the courtyard from the top of the front door, seemingly untouched by the passing of time.

The Creel House.

One, that has seen so much tragedy, it's been completely left to rot by the entire town of Hawkins. The memory of past events was enough to put an aura of hopelessness around the building, making it forever empty. Tales of that one faithful night are passed through generations, scaring both children and adults alike. The stories varied from completely impossible, to logically sound, but all of them had one thing in common. The ending.

- They say Creel's family ghosts still haunt this house to this day - your friend whispered into your ear one day.

You were doomed the moment you decided to play it cool, pretend those stories didn't do anything to you. You'd shrug, keep the stoic facade of a sceptic. Ghosts aren't real, and you are not a child anymore, believing every tale told with a gravely voice. Now, you were an adult, semi-responsible and collected.

Which is why you're in this situation in the first place. Stupid illusion of bravery, and now here you stand, bag in hand, about to spend the night in an abandoned house. Your friends are perhaps just a bit cruel, leaving you off the side of the road, their laughter echoing, as you take your first steps towards the porch. The warm light of the setting sun lulls you into a false sense of security. For now, there's no reason for you to question, whether 20 bucks is an appropriate payment for this little endeavor.

And honestly, what's the worst thing that could happen? You'd probably find some homeless man, sleeping off the tiredness of the day, happy to have a roof over his head. Even if said roof has seen unbelievable tragedy. Your thumb swipes over an outline of a pepper spray can, tucked into the front pocket of your jeans. For safety.

The wood creaks mercilessly, as you climb the few steps leading to the front door. Chills run up your back in tandems, as you enter, pushing the wooden door. It gives in rather easily, and soon you're hit with a suffocating smell of rot and dust from decades ago. It swirls inside your nose, and before you know it, a loud sneeze resounds through those aged halls.

Now, the ghosts surely know they have a visitor.

Scratching your nostril, you make your way inside, the door closing after you with a barely audible click. Dust and wood, wherever your sight can reach. The inside of the house doesn't look as dilapidated as you would've anticipated. Sure, there are heavy cobwebs basically everywhere, and your feet make marks on the dirty floor, but beside that, the house looks decent. No window seems to be broken, a trait uncommon amongst abandoned buildings.

With a small smile of wonder, you walk through the corridors, growing darker by the minute, as the sun begins to disappear into the nearby woods. It's much colder inside, than outside, you note with a shiver. You're not the most informed in the topic of temperature changes inside old architecture, but you are pretty sure, that big of a difference could be considered abnormal.

There are holes in the two armchairs inside the living room. Possibly chewed by mice and other critters, searching for warmth. The sofa stands surprisingly unmoved, there are flowers on the cushions, quilted with metallic string, which shines lightly in the dying light of the day. It looks cozy enough to sleep on, and you take a mental note to set camp here, for the night, after you stop exploring.

Soon, you have to take out your metal flashlight. A long pole of light cuts through the growing darkness, as you exit the living room and make your way towards the large staircase. From the corner, a dilapidated grandfathers clock watches you intently. Its arms are long dead and unmoving, but the soul remains, stirred to life by an intruder.

Every step of the way is creaking ungodly loud. And by the time you actually reach the first floor, you start to feel quite ridiculous, haunted house or not. Just as you reach for the handle to, what you assume, are bedroom doors, there's a creak somewhere below.

You freeze, body taut, ears straining to hear more, fighting with all their might against the silence.

Nothing. Just the quickened beating of your heart, your hard breathing. With a shrug meant to conceal your growing anxiety, you turn your back towards the staircase.

Ghosts don't exist, old, dying buildings do. And, just like people, those old buildings tend to settle for the night.

The room you enter looks to have been a bedroom at some point in time. It's spacious and holds two single beds. Perhaps it was the children's room. You could imagine young Creel's running around the empty halls, all smiles and laughter. You wonder, what did they play with back in their day. Did they have favorite toys, before their lives were so cruelly snuffed out?

You wander further inside, taking note of the pink, frilly covers on one of the beds. There is a doll, old fashioned one, with porcelain face, stuffed between the pillows. It would be creepy if you believed on ghosts. But you don't, so you're fine.

A voice, akin to child's scream of joy, nearly makes you trip over your feet. It's vague and barely audible, and not long after, you realize, it's just a sudden gust of wind, blowing through a gap in the window. With a huff, you shake your head.

The second bed looks much more mature in a sense. The covers are white and strangely pristine for such old age. Without giving it much of a thought, you reach out to touch the thick fabric. But, just as your fingers brush the coarse bed covers, something large and black skitters from one side of the bed, to the other.

You yelp, jumping back, as a fat spider dissapears under the pillow. A red pattern on it's back telling you exactly what you're dealing with. Black Widow. Wonderful. For a second you wonder if sleeping outside on the porch would be considered cheating. With a heavy exhale, you swipe your hair back from your face, a slow feeling of exhaustion entering your system.

There were no ghosts, no one was haunting these empty halls. Just memories, distorted by years of rumors and gossip. And you're better than this, smarter than some stupid story.

At least that's what you think. That is, until your flashlight starts to flicker. Your heart jumps into your throat, as your only source of light slowly, treacherously, dies in your hands. You try to smack the thing, frustration growing inside you, but it won't budge.

- Fantastic, absolutely fucking fantastic - you mutter under your breath, sticking the offending tool into the back pocket of your jeans.

Now, surrounded by complete and utter darkness, everything seems so much more terrifying. It's like you can feel every particle of dust settling in your hair, like you can hear every breath the house takes. It's maddening, and for a moment you stay planted in your place, screwing your eyes shut. Trying to calm yourself down, slow the rapid beating of your heart.

- Cool, cool, cool, cool - you chant quietly under your nose, like a grounding mantra.

The sound of your voice, arguably, does calm you down, and soon you gain enough confidence to open your eyes again. The room looks the same as it did before, no crazy hallucinations, no specters flying around your head.

You huff a laugh, shake your head, and take the first step towards the door, fully intending to make camp downstairs in the living room.

And that's when you feel something brush against your back. It feels real, tangible, as it slides up your spine, towards the base of your neck, before ruffling your hair.

You gasp, turning back on your heel, panic settling into the very core of your bones.

Nothing. The flowery wallpaper of the room stares back at you, as if it's mocking your current disheveled state. Your hand flies towards your neck, scratching lightly at the base, as if trying to scratch the weird feeling from under your skin.

Another creak from downstairs. Your head whips around, and you run up to the door, pushed by adrenaline alone.

There is no way this place is actually haunted. Because if it was, you'd have to get out of here as soon as possible. Which meant loosing those 20 dollars your friends put on your courage. 20 dollars you already knew how to spend. So, with a calming breath, you steel your nerves.

You raise your flashlight just a little bit, in case you need to whack someone over the head with it. You didn't know if the metal handle would do anything against a possible ghost, but you were sure, should the cause of your distress be of human origin, it will hurt as shit.

There's not a soul downstairs, and as you overlook the ground floor from the top of the stairs, you feel another shiver climbing up your back, causing the hair at the back of your neck to stand on guard. You take a step forward, fully intending to go down the stairs, but, as if pushed by an invisible force, your foot lands a bit too far. The rubber sole of your shoe slips past the wooden step, and with a scream you feel yourself fall.

The house is momentarily filled with a dull noise, as you tumble down the stairs, landing on the floor beneath them. The flashlight slips past your grasp, rolling on the floor, before hitting a wall.

- Ugh... - you can't move for quite a while, writhing in pain on the wooden floor.

There's a dull ache basically everywhere on your body, and you can already feel bruises forming on your skin. This was definitely not worth 20 dollars.

And as you lay there, gathering dust on your clothes and hair, you can clearly hear a sound, which makes your blood freeze on the spot.

A laugh. Small chuckle, barely audible, but loud enough for you to be sure. Despite the pain, you shoot up into a sitting position. Your vision swirls around you, and instinctively, you grab the side of your temple.

- Christ, what the fuck? - you mutter, starting to get up.

That's when you feel some invisible force push down on your arm, causing you to fall back on your ass. Your heart jumps to your throat, because that most definitely was not your imagination. Frozen in spot, you eyes zero in on the front door, the glass rose mocking you from above.

They're close, so close, running seems possible. So, gathering all your strength, you count in your head. And as you hit three, using every bit of power you still have left, you push yourself up and forward. Floorboards creak and splinters jab into your palm, as you throw yourself towards the front door. Your hand wraps around the handle, pushing with all you've got and...

Nothing.

The door doesn't even budge, and you try again, this time adding a shoulder to the mix. The third time you basically throw your entire body onto the door, but it doesn't as much as creak under this assault. Panic, sheer, bloody panic rises in your gut, fingers shaking as you keep fighting with the door handle. Then, something brushes past your neck, a sigh and a gust of cold air. You can feel it, a presence of something, standing right behind you, so close, it's nearly touching your skin.

- Who are you? - your whisper comes out in a huff of steam, and that's when you notice how cold it's gotten around you.

- Unimportant - the word solidifies your every fear, heart jumping right to your throat, as your knuckles whiten from the bone breaking grip you have on the handle.

It's a big house, and an old one. Houses like these had to have another entrance, right? You count to three yet again, taking a quick breath and bolting to the side. You manage to take three steps, before something drags you back, your feet lifting up from the floor. Then, the force tugs at your helpless body and you go flying through the corridor, colliding painfully with the floor.

Fearful eyes flicker through the empty room, searching for your attacker, as a sharp pain blooms where you've hit the wall. Then, something flickers in the corner of your eye. An image in the dust covered surface of a mirror. A scream bubbles up in your throat, as you spot a silhouette of a man, staring at you with an unreadable expression. He knows you've noticed him, pink lips stretching into a mocking smile.

Beautiful, the man from the mirror looked absolutely angelic, as he raised his hand, fingers outstretched towards you, a sinister glint in his eye. Then, you felt it again, a foreign force tugging at you ankle, and before you had the chance to react, a yank sent you sliding on the floor.

Rolling onto your stomach with a loud scream, you tried to stop your body from moving, fingernails digging into the wood, splinters cutting through your skin. Before you know it, you land at the center of the room, feet suddenly locked, as you upper half is dragged upwards. Your eyes flicker desperately, as your whole body rotates slowly, unmoving, hanging in the air like a piece of meat on a hook. Then, it stops, your eyes catch a glint of his blue ones in the mirror, and the wickedness encapsulated in them sends shivers down your spine.

This is it, this is where you are going to die. All for a 20 dollar bet, that was absolutely not worth it.

- Please, please, please... - your mouth mumbles involuntarily, as tears spring in your eyes.

The man smiles a gentle smile, one, that looks almost grotesque in given situation. And then, he stops. His hand drops to his side and you alongside it, your head hitting forcefully against the floor. The world swims around you, as a small gasp leaves your lips. The pulsing pain at the back of your head is like a rythmn, to which small specs of black dance in front of your eyes.

You must've hit your head really hard, because as you stare around the floating room, you can see the man slowly slide out of the mirror. His arm first, a pristine, white shirt covering his lean torso. Then, his legs, dressed in similar, white trousers. Lastly, his head. Blonde locks so soft and shiny even in this oppressing darkness, they almost seem unreal. And in a way, they are.

He takes a couple of steps towards you, kneeling down next to your head. Then, he reaches down and you flinch as his slender fingers touch your cheek. Too real, they feel too real, as they slide up, towards your temple, thumb caressing your brow in such a caring manner you almost fall for it. Almost.

- What are you doing? - your voice is rough and barely audible.

Again, he smiles, and his hand dips behind your head, finding the bleeding wound at the back. He observes with fascination, as your face contorts in pain, when his fingers press down onto the gash.

- I haven't had a visitor in such a long time - he muses, and you instantly notice how good his voice sounds, like a soothing balm to your ears. - It's gotten so lonely here, I'm so glad you came.

A shiver wracks your immobile body, and you clench your teeth, trying to surpress it. He notices, you can guess it by the way his eyebrows raise.

- Pretty, pretty, pretty - he muses with a smile, his wondering hand dragging your own blood down your neck, until it reaches the dip between your collarbones - Your pain looked so pretty.

You can't move, even if you try, and you do, you truly do. There's this invisible force holding you down again. The man shifts his position, bringing his face close to yours, so close, you should feel his breathing, but you don't. His nose drags along your neck, stopping behind your ear, where he inhales your scent with a hum of approval.

- Such pretty skin - he whispers, while his other hand starts to caress your stomach, slowly lifting the shirt up.

Liar.

There are acne scars on your cheeks. Moles and freckles litter your shoulders and chest. Scars from all the years of being an unruly child. A razor burn on your leg, where you tried to shave just a bit too quickly. Yet, despite all that, he seems to be enchanted, as his finger encircles you belly button, scratching the soft hair there, before sliding further down.

- Wait - you mutter, finally regaining some resemblance of consciousness.

- I miss having skin like this - theres a bitter chuckle he tried to surpress, and before you know it, he slides off of you.

You still can't move, chest heaving with effort on the wooden floor. He stands up to his full height. His movements are slow and graceful, like a cat that's circling it's prey. There's something unnerving in his gaze, as he watches you from above, like a hawk ready to strike. You try to move again, fingernails scratching the wooden surface, but beside dragging your nails there is little you can do. This suffocating force keeps you planted firmly on the ground, and you seemingly are powerless to fight it. He notices your struggle, eyes lingering on the muscles moving under your skin. Or, he just likes to watch any expanse of uncovered flesh.

Soon, he reaches the tops of your feet, panic truly settles in. You can't see him as well as you would like to, his silhouette barely in your field of vision. What you can make out, however, is his slender hand rising, figers dainty and delicate, as they spread out in the air above you. Another pull of the unfamiliar force, and you can feel your legs move on their own accord, as if being pulled apart from each other.

- Humans - he sighs, sinking down to his knees in between your legs, his hands coming to rest on your ankles.

Your breath catches in your throat, as you watch him go down, a new feeling of anxiety rising in your throat, one, not entirely unpleasant. You eye him curiously, as his hand traverses the expanse of your calf, your denim shorts giving him quite the reach. There is a long scar on the side of your shin, where, years ago, you fell from the tree and broke your leg, bone sticking out grotesquelly. His fingers poke at it, eyebrows scrunching, as he tests the white, jagged flesh. Then, he inspects the bruises and cuts on your knee. His body moves closer, as he presses his cheek to your leg.

- So fragile, so helpless - he looks at you, blue eyes capturing yours in an iron gaze, and he pushes himself further between your legs.

The spell breaks, the moment his eyes shifts to your belt, the true intention of this strange interaction finally becoming clear to you.

- Wait... - you try to crawl away, muscles tensing on the floor, with no possible escape from the unrelenting force paralyzing your body.

Like a snake, the man slides his body up yours, his torso pressing close to your heaving chest. He's quite beautiful for a ghost, with his sharp features and baby blue eyes. Blonde hair frames his head like a halo, but the smile he offers you, is nothing short of devilish.

- I just want to feel - he whispers it, as if the words should bring you any consolation in this horrible situation, and you try to wiggle yourself from under him, yet again, to no avail.

You watch from the corner of your eye, as his head dips down, nose inhaling the scent of your hair. One, you know smells of cigarettes and some cheap shampoo you picked up at a sale from a drug store. Nothing too exquisite, but the way he downright moans in your ear, makes you feel, like you've used Chanel's new fragrance.

It does something to you, you're ashamed to admit it, but every noise coming from this apparition of a man, makes your stomach flip in the most delicious of ways. So, when his hand finally makes quick work of your zipper, before you feel fear, arousal arises in your gut.

And when his slender fingers cross the threshold of your underwear, falling immediately to your bundle of nerves, as if they were made to find it, your back arches from the floor.

He allows it, this small bit of movements, as he begins to work your body in earnest, fingers dipping lower, testing and prodding the entrance, until you start to beg.

Please fall from your half-open mouth, as his other hand climbs the expanse of your stomach, ghosting touches over your ribs, until it grabs your breast like there's no tomorrow.

He watches your through it all, blue eyes swallowing every scrunch of your brow, every moan, every twitch of your body. You're not sure how someone can look so absolutely fascinated, like he's never done this before, and be this skilled, at the same time.

- Please - you choke out, when he switches the positioning of his palm, to grind into you - Please, don't stop.

- Henry, my name is Henry - he mutters into your ear, and you know exactly, why he fed you this information.

You scream his name, when you come. Your broken voice carrying through the aged corridors, mingling with the sounds of creaking wood, the ticking of the ancient grandfather's clock.

There's barely any time to regain your composure. Your vision swims again, as the man, Henry, removes his fingers from your pants, before standing up again. You watch from the floor, as he rises his hand to the light, observing it for a moment. Then, like a scientist on a mission, he places one finger into his mouth. You can see his jaw work as he tastes you.

Then, just as another fire begins to burn deep in your stomach, you blink.

He's gone, you stare at the ceiling, which is quite closer, than you remember. In fact, your nose almost touches the wooden planks. And just as the realization, that you are actually floating up in the air, hits you, you fall.

Morning light shines on your beaten, tired body. And as you lay on the floor, feeling every bruise and scrape, all you can think of, is the angelic man's spirit, trapped in this tragedy of a house.

And the 20 dollars you've just won.

#my writing #requested #answered #peter ballard x reader #peter ballard #stranger things #vecna x reader #001 x reader #henry creel #enry creel x reader #tw: dark fic #all this build up and for what? for a fingerbang and a concussion?#man's unbelievable #thank you again for leaving a request and yet again so sorry for taking so long

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tonarinotogepi · 3 years ago

Text

Treasure

Summary: Steve helps you regain your memories.

Pairing: Pre-Serum Dragon! Steve x Female Reader

Warnings: Soft dark, Allusions to kidnapping & stalking, monster fucking, manipulative behavior, gaslighting, memory loss, dub/non-con (due to the manipulative behavior) smut, fingering, praise kink, size kink

Word Count: 1kish

Author’s Note: My submission for @slothspaghettiwrites’s Monster Mayhem Challenge! My prompt was: Take a look in the mirror / And what do you see / Do you see it clearer / Or are you deceived - Human by Rag n Bone Man. Thanks so much Sloth for hosting this fun challenge!! I hope you enjoy!!

Imagine dragons (not the band) are 2-4 feet taller than humans on average in their demi-human shift, and Steve is ‘small’ by those standards, meaning he’s more like 1/2 ft taller than humans. I wanted to try and make the size kink as inclusive as possible, so take your height and and 1/2 ft to it and that’s how tall our darling pre-serum Steve is.

It was a lovely summer day. You turned your face towards the sun, trying to absorb as much vitamin D as possible before he noticed you were out here. As if he could read your mind, a pair of arms wrapped around you.

“It’s dangerous out here.” Steve whispered, pressing a kiss on your cheek.

You let him pick you up, his thin arms deceptively strong as he carried you back into his den, his tail swishing anxiously.

“I’m sorry Steve…it’s just...the sun feels so good...”

“I know, treasure. And last time you almost got snatched by those hydra goons” Steve replied, giving you a quick peck as he continued down into his lair.

So Steve kept telling you. A few weeks ago you had woken up in Steve’s den, body covered in bandages and no memories. He had an answer for all of your questions, how your family had rejected you when they found out and you had moved in with Steve, but nothing about the cave felt human.

The pots and pans all looked new. The dresser full of fancy evening gowns and little else. It had taken Steve showing you the dozens of drawings he had done of you to prove you were lovers, some of the poses far too intimate for a friend to have drawn of you.

All you knew for certain was that Steve had been nothing but kind and loving, caring for your wounds and patiently nursing you back to health.

And when you had finally broken down, the frustration and guilt of not remembering Steve and your life together overflowing, he simply said:

“I guess I’ll have to make you fall for me all over again.”

And he had, his determination and confidence in your relationship soothing away your fears and opening your heart back up him.

Maybe this was the fresh start you had needed. Maybe it would be easier to never remember your cruel family that had forced you to choose between them and Steve.

“I had a moment of inspiration when I was reorganizing my hoard. Will you let me draw you?” He asked, his bright eyes darkening as he looked down at you.

This was the first time he had asked for you to pose for him since the attack. You smiled and nodded, a small flutter of excitement coursing through you. You knew that look.

“My good girl.” He praised before spreading his wings, quickly flying the pair of you to the deepest, coldest part of his den that held his hoard.

Despite the cold, it was always a marvel to see. Piles of coins, precious gems, and other expensive items filled the cavern, all meticulously sorted and arranged to Steve’s liking. You were gently laid down on a large pile of gold coins, with a sketchpad laying close by.

“Comfy?” He asked as you shifted around, trying to somehow find a comfy spot, coins tinkling as you pushed them around.

“It’s slightly better than a pile of rocks…” You trailed off as Steve started tugging off your clothes.

“Why didn’t I think of this sooner…” He muttered to himself, pushing you back down onto the bed of coins as he settled himself between your legs. “My prized jewel, surrounded by my hoard…”

You hadn’t heard Steve, as your words triggered a rush of images and sounds...

A pile of rocks...a Steve’s roar...your mother screaming as she got smaller and smaller...flying...

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt a rough, wet tongue lick a stripe over your mound, eliciting a gasp from you.

“There you are…” He smiled, parting your folds.

You laid back with a sigh, the flashback forgotten, your legs spreading wider to give your dragon better access to your cunt.

Your efforts were rewarded as you felt a talon push inside you as Steve’s talented tongue began to massage your clit, your moans guiding him as you ran your hands through his soft hair and scaly skin.

You whined as you felt a third talon push its way inside you, the stretch uncomfortably familiar.

“Human bodies are amazing… no matter how often I fuck this little pussy, it still stays just as tight as the first night I had you…” He praised, pushing and scissoring his fingers roughly.

He continued working you over, patiently stretching and licking your cunt until your slick started to squelch around his talons as you started to beg for him to let you cum.

“Go ahead and cum, treasure.” he told you, his ministrations never stopping as you crested over the edge, cumming with a thin wail.

You let out a small whimper when you felt his fingers retreat, knowing what was about to replace them was even thicker. Steve shushed you as he positioned himself over you, sliding his cock over your clit before slowly pushing himself inside.

Your pained sob was silenced by Steve’s mouth as he drowned out your cries with deep kisses, his hips pushing until he was fully seated inside you.

He broke the kiss and drank in the sight of you.

“Look at you, precious. Taking me so well.”

He shifted as you felt his cock push against your cervix with a low moan.

“A perfect fit…’s like you were made for me…” He admired, before sitting up to grab a handful of jewelry from a box.

He took a sapphire pendant out and ran it around your body, the cool gem sending a shiver throughout your body.

He grinned when he ran the cut gem over your clit, your pussy squeezing down on him in response before placing the gem around neck.

“Perfect… just a few more and we’ll be ready…”

Next was a ruby ring, diamond earrings, a handful of pearls he scattered in your hair, and finally an emerald bracelet.

Standing in a field on your family’s farm… an emerald bracelet in your hand...

“You look absolutely stunning. Stuffed full of me, covered in stones…” He ran one of his talons lightly down your body and over the bulge in your stomach before picking up his sketchpad.

“Now, just stay just like that, my treasure…”

... a dragon’s shadow falling over you...

~~~

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!!

#toge writes #Steve Rogers x female reader #monster reads #dark reads #SlothsMMMWritingChallenge #dark! steve rogers #dark! Steve Rogers x Reader

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raggaraddy · 3 years ago

Note

Can you Taehyungs version of reader being shot cause of them?

I really like your Jimin and Namjoon Version that you’ve written🥰

Request from @dramaclub-thin: Mafia BTS where the reader is shot for/because of them.

A/N: It is so much longer than I meant for it to be. Hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading.

If anyone else wants to request, you can here.

Mafia Bangtan other parts:

Namjoon

Yoongi

Jimin

Jungkook

---------

Deception.

Summary: When you agreed to help Bangtan take down one of their enemies, you never imagined it could go so wrong.

Trigger warning: Smut, violence, blood, murder.

Taehyung

Mafia! Taehyung

"Are you ready?" Namjoon asks, shutting off the car's engine and turning around in his seat.

"Yeah," you nod back, hoping the rocking pit of nerves in your stomach isn't visible on your face. Scanning back and forth between him in the front and Jin sat beside you, you're checking to see if they are showing any signs of worry either. Finding a bit of solace in their surety.

"We're gonna lag behind about 20 minutes to be cautious and stay out of sight. But we'll be close. Just do everything like we said, and you'll be fine." Namjoon summarizes once again. Jin offering you a kind, reassuring smile to accompany the leader's words.

You nod again, sucking your tongue to the roof of your mouth. Running your fingers through your hair to fluff it for the 30th time. Hyperfixated on the time, you see the dashboard clock tick over. 20:21.

"Okay, let's go." You exhale deeply.

It was three weeks ago that Namjoon came to you with a problem that Bangtan was facing. Their weapons dealer was forcefully put out of business, which was Namjoons gentle way of saying he was killed, cutting off their supply to automatics and other bigger guns. Leaving them vulnerable. The man who took over their previous partners supply was known to be working with some of the other, smaller local crews. It was also known that he was a rival of Namjoon's and due to this tension refused to work with Bangtan. Normally, a problem like this would be something that they could handle. However, as Namjoon explained it, this guy was backed and protected by foreign money and was too hot to touch without starting a bloody war.

So the plan was simple. Risky, but simple. The supplier had to die. And it needed to appear to be from natural causes, so it could never fall back on Bangtan. No one directly affiliated could be involved. That meant none of the members could risk doing it. It also meant that it was too high a priority to trust an associate or hired gun with this information. Not with the reach and money the opposition had. No, it had to be someone within the family that could handle this, but someone the supplier would never know.

Opportunely, the supplier was known to have a weakness for women, hence the logical conclusion for Namjoon was one of the member's girls. Trustworthy enough not to turn or rat, not likely to be noticed among the myriad of other women, and except a few of them, all had no record linking them to Bangtan, so they would be complete unknowns.

Jin said it, but you already knew it. Out of all of the girls, you were the one who was the most capable. Your difficult past left you with many emotional scars but made you the best person to handle the responsibility. You're not susceptible to intimidation. Have very few moral hangups. And most importantly Namjoon knows how much you love Taehyung. How you would do anything for him. To keep him safe and happy. He knows he can trust you, and that when the time comes, you wouldn't hesitate to do what they needed you to.

As for you, you knew that Taehyung trusted Namjoon irrefutably and you had seen countless times that he was a good leader. Furthermore, you could appreciate the gravity of the situation. Because you're sure that if Bangtan's brain had any other choice, he would not have asked for your help. But since he had, you were going to do what was necessary to keep your family and Taehyung safe.

The problem was that Namjoon had insisted on secrecy. The only ones to know about his plan were you, him, and Jin. A few years ago, sure, lying would not have been a problem for you, you hardly ever told the truth to anyone. But this changed when you met Taehyung. He was the first person you could be honest with, the first person you ever let love you. And lying to him was something you were genuinely struggling with.

However, you knew Namjoon and Jin were right. There was no way Tae would have been okay with you being put in harm's way and he wouldn't be able to separate his feelings from the urgency of the task.

Although, that justification doesn't make you feel less guilty for deceiving him. And to make matters worse, you expected this to be over with last week already. But on your first date with the supplier, he had left the club early to deal with work suddenly. Giving you no time to spike his drink.

So here you were, attempt number two.

While you were meant to meet the supplier at a fancy restaurant first, Namjoon's plan was to skip that and get to his house as quickly as possible. Before the valet could open the supplier's car door, you leant through the open window, teasingly licking your lips. "I just realized," you purr, noting his eyes drop to your mouth and back. "I'm actually not that hungry. So how about we skip to the end of the night, and then you can take me out for breakfast tomorrow morning."

Your blatant offer works like a charm. 20 minutes and a car ride later, he's pulling you down onto his couch. Hardly able to keep his hands or lips off of you.

Tearing at your blouse he rips the buttons apart, his mouth sucking and licking at your neck. One of his hands roaming and grabbing at anything he can, while the other starts to hike up your pencil skirt. He removes his vest and buttoned shirt, not once parting his lips from yours. His large, hard chest muscles pressing against you as he pins you in between his arms and the couch. Spreading your legs apart, he grinds his crotch into your core and you can feel what effect this is having on him. And you have to admit, despite your mind being focused elsewhere, physically it's having the same kind of arousing results on you.

But this isn't what's supposed to happen. He's moving too fast and it's quickly getting away from you. You only want to get him comfortable and distracted enough that he completely lets his guard down. You're trying to poison him, not fuck him.

Pushing his chest lightly, you spring upright. Slightly out of breath you pull your hair over your shoulder covering up a little and running your fingers through it, trying to regain some composure.

"I could use a drink." You pant, batting your eyes up at him.

"Sounds good." He nods, his gaze dark and ravenous. Suddenly haulting he leans back down to kiss you. His hands gripping your hips as he kisses you back into the sofa. Abruptly leaving you flat on the couch with flushed cheeks.

This is better. One or two drinks from now, you should be able to slip him the ricin. He drinks it, you fake a headache, and skip home. 24 hours from now he has a heart attack and dies from natural causes. Nothing tied to you. Nothing connected to Bangtan.

"I hope you like-" The supplier calls out, only to be interrupted by a grating smack at the front of the house. You startle upright, sitting alert watching the hall entrance. He comes from the other side, coming back from the kitchen, a curious look on his face. Both of you staring at the same doorway as Taehyung suddenly comes in.

Fuck.

Your eyes go wide, half not able to believe he is actually here. He wasn't supposed to be! Namjoon had arranged for Jimin to take him out tonight. And you had told him you were going to meet some of the other girls.

The thing you didn't know; a week ago when you met the supplier at the club, you had also said you were out with a few girls, including Jimin's girlfriend. But she was with Jimin at that time. And Jimin was with Taehyung. And she knew nothing about any plans to go out.

So when you said there was a movie night tonight, he asked around and found out that was also a lie. He wanted to trust you. To trust that it wouldn't be as bad as his worst fear. Still, the more he thought over how you lied to him, the more he worked himself up, getting himself into a paranoid and anxious state. Until he found himself tracking your phone, following you to an unknown house.

Seeing you half undressed and with someone he considers an enemy, his anger and jealously turns to pure rage. It only taking a second for the scene in front of him to confirm his worst suspicions.

Unleashing his gun he shoots wildly at the supplier. Reason slipping from him completely.

Barley able to avoid being hit, the supplier dives behind one of the sofa chairs. Nearly being riddled with the showering of bullets.

Wrapping your hands over your head, you cover your ears from the explosive sounds. Still firing, and keeping the supplier pinned, Taehyung storms at you.

"Tae-" you start. The gun empties, but Taehyung couldn't care less, tossing it aside. All of his attention focused on you.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" He growls through gritted teeth. His hand flying down smacking your cheek, slapping you back into the sofa. "How could you do this to me?!" He screams, his voice wavering from the emotion in his question.

"I can explain," You ignore the burn on your cheek, running your hands along your body, trying your best to cover and redress yourself. You never wanted him to see you like this, and the look of betrayal in his eyes is stinging your heart more than any slap could. "I-," you begin with no next word coming. There's nothing you can tell him. Not while the supplier is right here.

Taehyung's anger aside, you're terrified to think what him being here means. Namjoon's plan is completely derailed. And Taehyung attacked the supplier, creating an entirely new problem. You're not the smart one. You have no idea what to do or how to fix this.

Where the hell are Jin and Namjoon?

Taehyung is so fixated on you that he doesn't see the other man charging from the side.

"Look out!" You scream. Only it's a second too slow. Taehyung doesn't have time to react and the supplier swings a ceramic table ornament at his head. The shattered fragments raining over you, as your boyfriend is knocked to the ground. The shoe of the imposing man booting into Taehyung's torso.

You dive towards them, driving your body weight into the supplier to separate the two men. Pushing him away as his heel scarcely misses Taehyung's face.

He stumbles back a few steps and straightens up, nodding and pursing his lips with a look of revelation. Seeing you spring to Taehyungs defence revealed much more than you had intended.

While you're attempting to help Tae upright, he quickly shirks you off and lunges at the other man diving through him and dragging him to the floor. Fighting for dominance and survival, the two men break into a brutal fight trading blow after blow as they struggle to overpower the other.

While you're relieved to see that Taehyung is the more skilled of the two, and mostly has the upper hand, you're mainly sick with worry. The ramifications of this will play out beyond this simple fistfight.

All you can do is get Tae out of here for now, and hope that the supplier hasn't realised that this was an attempt to kill him. Maybe if you're really lucky he will only think of it at face value. A cheating girlfriend and her jealous boyfriend.

"Tae," you grab his arm, dragging him back with resistance. "We have to get out of here. Please,"

He drops the supplier's collar, who falls back limply. Turning to you he has blood pouring down his face from a cut on his cheek. Intensifying the cold look in his eye.

"We? What we? Don't you wanna stay here with this piece of shit." He snarls, standing up.

"I can explain after." You tug him again. He can hate you all he likes later. But first, you have to get out of here. "Please," you beg for his agreement.

Staring harshly, he retreats from you. A pained look in his eye that cuts you more than any blade could. Anger, hate, rage. You could handle all of it. But there's so much hurt and sadness on his face. It's nothing you ever wanted to be responsible for. It's more than you can bear.

"Tae," you hold your hand outreached, gingerly approaching him. He doesn't withdraw further, allowing you to rest your hand on his cheek. Your heart breaking further as he leans into your touch. Resting in your palm for comfort like an injured puppy. "I promise, baby, this isn't what it looks like." you coo, "I love you so much,"

His eyes close, his face scrunching in anguish. He wants to believe you so badly. To forget everything he has seen. To take you home and never let you go. He may be the first person you let love you, but for him, you are the only person he ever let himself love.

Turning, you use his softening demeanour to lead him towards the door. But the supplier pulls your attention. Neither of you were paying him any mind and standing in the corner of the room he's pulled his own gun from hiding.

Reacting without a thought you shove your back into Taehyung, covering him. Guarding him.

At the same time, a shot rings out and the bullet hits you. A painful, sharp sensation piercing through your torso that makes you stumble back. Losing your footing you fall into Taehyung, your body never hitting the ground. Taehyung catching your weight, lowering with you. Resting you on his legs.

Taehyung grimaces in pain, his hand wrapping his own side momentarily. The bullet went clean through you and cut his side before flying into the wall behind the both of you. Dismissing his own injury, he leans over your body, ripping off his shirt and pressing it and his palms into your entrance wound. Trying to slow the bleeding.

Looking up at Taehyung with tear-filled eyes, you're in shock. Every breath you take is sore but other than that, your body is numb. Your hands clinging to his, all you can think is that you wished you knew what to say or do to lessen his panic. The sweat on his forehead rolls into the cut on his cheek causing the blood to drip further down his neck and chest. The fear and worry in his eyes exposing what you can't see or feel. That you're losing a lot of blood.

The supplier comes over the top of you both. He presses the barrel of the gun into the back of Taehyungs head, forcing him to crouch lower over you.

"I was searching for a reason to annihilate Namjoon and his pathetic crew. Thank you for giving me one." He digs the gun down harder. Taehyung growls, baring his teeth in frustration. "Too bad we didn't get to finish what we started though, Y/n. Oh well." He smirks, cocking the gun for additional effect.

"I love you," Taehyung whispers, the finality in his voice breaking your restraint, tears gushing down your face.

"I-," you can only begin.

Another blast rings out that makes both you and Taehyung jump. The supplier's body goes heavy and plummets to the ground, smashing through the glass coffee table beside you. Glass shatters everywhere as he falls down dead, blood pouring out of his head, collecting into a pool.

"Fuck sakes." Namjoon sighs from the living room entrance. Standing with Jin, both looking over the destruction with disbelief.

"Hyung," Taehyung calls out, his voice raspy and on the verge of tears. "Help." He looks down at you, your face pale, your limps drooping as the blood loss is starting to make you dizzy.

Namjoon opens his mouth readying to scold his brother, but he quickly stops himself. His own faults glaringly obvious at this moment. Jin removes his belt, wrapping it around your waist he fixes it tightly, making you whine in pain, keeping Taehyungs shirt pressed to both sides of your wound.

"Can you carry her?" Jin asks his younger brother.

Namjoon passes all of you, walking toward the lifeless body of his enemy, shooting another round into the back of his head with a frustrated look in his eye.

Taehyung nods at Jin with wide, panicked eyes.

"Then bring her." Namjoon turns with a flick of his head gesturing to follow him.

Jin supports Taehyung as he struggles to get himself and you to a standing position. Finding more strength once he is upright, lifting you into his arms as you whimper and moan weakly.

"Taehyung-" you start, your words sounding breathless and weak. "I'm sorry," you whisper.

"Shh baby." He hushes you. "Don't worry about that now."

He gets you into Namjoons truck, laying you down the length of the seat. As Namjoon speeds to the hospital, Taehyung sits in the back, his legs under your head. Holding firm against your bullet wound while petting your head.

Jin takes Tae's keys and follows you in his car. Already calling a cleanup crew to get rid of the supplier's body. Trying to salvage what he can of the bad situation.

"Namjoon," you call out. Even as your mind is starting to slip into unconsciousness your worry over the family is consuming your focus. "the plan. Can you fix the-" you breathe heavily running out of air.

He looks over his shoulder, guilt overtaking his expression. Nodding with an affirming grunt.

"Plan? What plan?" Taehyung muses, the shock steadily drifting away. "What is she talking about, Hyung?" One look at the blame on Namjoon's face and it clicks into place. "What did you do?"

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this." Namjoon reasons.

"Are you kidding me? You organized this?!" He snaps, "How the fuck could you risk her like that?!"

"It was supposed to be easy. She wasn't meant to get hurt-"

"Well, clearly she did!" Taehyung roars, his hands bunching into fists.

"I'm sorry, Tae. I wanted to help." You whine, lifting your arm up to touch his chest, trying to soothe him in any way.

"It's okay, baby. I know you did." He coos kissing your forehead, Taehyung's rage immediately subsiding towards you. He takes your blood-drenched hands in his and kisses them lovingly. Kissing down your forearms, pressing your hands to his head in agony and want to have you closer. Wishing he could absorb your pain and suffering.

Returning his wrath to the leader his voice lowers, coming out like ice. "We're gonna talk about this once she's okay." He snarls, "And know, I hold you personally responsible for every second she's in pain."

Looking in the rearview mirror, Namjoon nods solemnly. "Yeah, I do too."

Luckily for you, you recover quickly, and no permanent physical damage was done. But the damage that was done to Namjoon and Taehyungs relationship, the repercussions caused for Bangtan, and the fall out from the supplier's death... well that's another story entirely.

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