#did not get the last little black edge but i am too tired to care lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lucajayms · 11 days ago

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fuckin' liar vol 4

gerard way x reader she/her used use of y/n

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4

masterlist

warnings: descriptive drug use, angst, needles, descriptive overdose

I sit on the edge of my bed, my hands trembling as I prepare the heroin. My dealer said this batch was stronger, something with a bite to it, a real warning. But I don’t care. I’m tired, and it’s the kind of tired that sleep can’t fix. I want an escape—a clean, blissful oblivion. Something that’ll drown everything out. Just for a little while.

My phone’s somewhere on the floor, nearly dead. I don’t even know where it is exactly, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve shut everyone out. They don’t get it; maybe they never did. I don’t know who I am anymore, much less how to explain this mess to someone else.

I press the needle into my arm and release. Warmth spreads quickly, faster than usual. It’s heavier, intense. My heart picks up speed, and the room starts spinning around me. My vision’s blurring at the edges, like someone’s dragging a soft cloth over the world. I lean back, but I’m sinking instead. My body feels too heavy to move.

My breathing slows, and I feel myself slipping in and out, like I’m caught in some current pulling me down. This was supposed to feel peaceful. I thought it’d be like falling asleep. But there’s this strange pressure, this dull roar in the back of my mind whispering that this might be it. That maybe I’m not coming back this time.

The last thing I remember is trying to send the message 'I love you' to Helena.

And then it all goes black.

Gerard

I sit in Mikey's apartment, staring at my phone, my thumb hovering over the call button as her number sits already dialed. It’s been days, maybe longer, since we last spoke. I’ve tried calling. Texting. Hell, I’ve tried showing up, but every time, she pushes me further away. She’s made it pretty clear—she’s not interested in getting better. Not right now, anyway.

I keep telling myself I’ve accepted it. I’ve done everything I can, right? I can’t fix this for her. She’s got to want to fix it herself.

But tonight, something feels off. I can’t explain it, but it’s eating at me, gnawing away until I can barely sit still. It’s this sharp, gut-deep instinct that won’t let go. I try to ignore it, but it keeps tightening, clawing at my insides until I can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck,” I mutter, grabbing my keys and heading out the door. I don’t know what I’m walking into, but I know I need to check on her.

The drive to our apartment, our home, is brutal; every light, every stop sign, dragging out the distance. I can feel my heart pounding, my hands clenching the wheel so tight my knuckles turn white. I haven’t been to our place in weeks. Things between us… they got so bad. But tonight, I can’t stay away. Something’s pulling me there, this instinct that I know I’d regret ignoring.

When I reach the building, I don’t waste a second. I’m out of the car, practically running to the door. My fist pounds against the wood, the sound echoing in the hallway.

“(Y/N)!” I call out, but there’s no answer. I knock louder, my voice breaking through the quiet, calling her name again, but it’s just… silence. She’s not answering. Panic rises, cold and thick, in the back of my throat as I dig in my pocket for the keys. My hands are shaking as I fit it into the lock and push the door open.

It’s dark inside, the kind of heavy darkness that feels like something is wrong. I race down the hall to our room, hoping she's just sleeping. She had too much to drink, and she's just asleep. I take a shaky breath, stepping forward, my eyes adjusting enough to make out the shape of her on the bed. A sick feeling settles in my gut as I approach, my voice coming out barely above a whisper.

“(Y/N)?” I move closer, seeing her pale face, her lips covered in a greenish-foam. She’s completely still, the needle lying on the bed next to her, glinting under the faint streetlight streaming through her window.

“No, no, no,” I murmur, dropping to my knees beside her. My hands tremble as I reach for her shoulders, shaking her gently. “(Y/N), wake up. Come on, wake up!”

Nothing. Her skin feels too cold, her breathing barely there, shallow and uneven. The realization slams into me, leaving me gasping. I fumble for my phone, dialing 911, my voice coming out choked and panicked as I tell them everything.

“Please,” I beg the operator. “Please, just hurry.”

I hang up and turn back to her, pulling her head into my lap, cradling her like I can somehow keep her here, make her stay. “Come on, (Y/N). Please, wake up,” I whisper, my voice breaking as guilt slams into me. I should’ve been here sooner. I should’ve done something before this. I should’ve never let her get this far.

By the time the paramedics arrive, I’m completely falling apart, my hands still shaking as they pull her from my arms and lay her on the floor. I watch, numb, as they work over her, starting CPR. Every second stretches out, feels like it’s clawing at my heart, ripping it open as I watch her lying there, lifeless.

One of the paramedics finally looks up at me, a slight nod breaking through my haze.

“She’s stable for now, but we need to get her to the hospital,” he says, his tone calm but urgent.

I exhale, a shaky, broken breath, relief washing over me so intensely that I almost collapse. I watch them lift her onto the stretcher and carry her out, and all I can do is follow, my mind spinning, hands still trembling as I get into the ambulance next to her.

The ambulance feels like an icebox, and I can barely feel my hands, but it doesn’t matter. My focus is on her, lying there, her body barely moving as they work on her. My mind’s spinning so fast it hurts, flashes of her face, her laugh, her voice all crashing together with the reality of her lying in front of me, barely clinging to life. How the hell did it come to this?

She’s the one who saved me, damn it. She was the one who dragged me out of the pit, who kept pushing through my walls, tearing me out of the numbness and the chaos I’d wrapped around myself. When I was the one on every kind of substance I could get my hands on, she was there, refusing to give up. She got me to see past the haze, to want something better. I was the mess. I was the one with the self-destruct button, and she was the one who kept me from pressing it.

And now? Now she’s here, and I’m the one watching her slip away. All because of a fucking needle.

I want to scream, to punch something, but I can’t do anything. I’m paralyzed, held back by fear, by anger, by the crushing weight of what I didn’t see coming. I should’ve been here. I should’ve seen the signs, should’ve known she was falling apart the way I once did. The way I looked for every possible way to escape. It’s like a bad dream, except I know I’m wide awake, and I can’t stop the endless, torturous stream of thoughts eating away at me, filling me with this damn helplessness.

I feel sick, my chest tightening, watching her as they check her pulse, inject her with something else, call out numbers and stats like she’s just another patient they’re trying to keep alive. But she’s not just some patient. She’s everything. She’s the person who pulled me out of hell. And now I’m terrified she might never pull through this.

Hours pass in the waiting room, my eyes glued to the ground, my phone clutched so tightly I can feel it digging into my hand. I haven’t called anyone yet. How would I even explain this?

Finally, a doctor walks over, his face neutral as he tells me she’s going to be okay. “But she’s in a fragile state,” he adds, his voice low. “Physically and mentally. If she doesn’t get help… next time, she might not survive.”

I nod, my throat tight, his words sinking in like lead. This is it. The wake-up call she needs. If she doesn’t get help now, there won’t be another chance.

I stayed by her bedside, hours stretching into eternity. I didn’t care about the cameras outside, the news feeds that would twist this into some twisted, sensationalized story. I didn’t care about any of it. The only thing that mattered was her, lying there, and the faint, fragile hope that maybe this time, she’d find the strength to come back.

The paparazzi were circling before I even knew what was happening, vultures with cameras trained on every entrance and exit to the hospital. Someone must’ve recognized me in the waiting room, and the rumors spread like wildfire. By the time I’d pulled my head out of my hands, they’d already gathered outside, lenses flashing at every window, every doorway.

The TV caught my attention as I look up to see two different headlines.

“MCR Frontman Gerard Way: Girlfriend Hospitalized After Overdose!”

“Inside Gerard and (Y/N)’s Tragic Night in L.A.”

They didn’t know the half of it. Didn’t know what it was like to stand here, hours on end, with nothing but the sterile walls and the distant beeps from down the hall. They had no idea how close I came to losing her—how close she came to slipping away for good. And maybe I was to blame. Maybe I could have been there for her sooner, been more present, been less willing to believe her lies about “doing better.” But none of that mattered now.

The receptionist changed the channel for me, though the headlines still burned in my mind. The thoughts that had festered and grown with each excruciating second only seemed more real now.

The image of her lying on that bed, barely breathing, flashed in my mind again. It had felt like everything went in slow motion from the moment I found her—her skin cold, the needle lying beside her. She’d fought so hard to keep me away from this side of her life, but I should have known. I’d been there before myself; I knew the signs. I’d just been too willing to look the other way.

The voices in the waiting room faded in and out, a blur of people who had no idea what she was going through, what we’d both been through. I’d watched her fight for me when I’d hit my own rock bottom, watched her pull me back from the brink when no one else could. She had been my anchor when I was drowning in my own darkness. And now she was in there, fighting for her own life, and I couldn’t do a damn thing but wait.

I clenched my hands together, forcing myself to stay in this moment, to feel every single ounce of the guilt and fear pressing down on me. I wasn’t letting myself off the hook. I didn’t deserve to. This wasn’t just about her addiction, her demons. It was about me missing the signs, about not being there when she needed me most.

I caught sight of a nurse as she passed by, and I managed to catch her eye long enough to get an update. She told me (Y/N) was stable for now, that the worst had passed. That didn’t make the sight of her any easier to bear. The tubes, the monitors, the hollow stillness in her face—it all felt like a punch to the gut. She looked so fragile, so unlike the girl I knew, the one who never backed down, who wore her defiance like armor.

And that’s when it hit me. If she made it through this—and God, I wanted her to so badly—she’d have to fight harder than she ever had before. She’d have to choose to claw her way out of this, just like I did once. I could be here; I could offer her everything I had. But in the end, this was a war only she could wage.

The crowd outside pressed closer, their relentless presence scraping against the raw edges of my nerves. The waiting room was a blur, the hours blending into a single, agonizing moment. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was her, lying there, fighting her way back.

And I could only hope that this time, she’d want to come back—if not for me, then for herself.

(Y/N)

Fuck, what happened?

Pressure on my head, my hand, my body. The pink of my eyelids startles me as I struggle to get my eyes open. There's not enough strength I can muster up to move anything in my body. Not even my fucking vocal chords.

"Still nothing?" A voice rings from my right, and the pressure on my left hand seems to stir.

"Nothing," The voice to my left says. Wait, I know that voice. Is that Gerard? Why is he here?

"Well Mr. Way, if she doesn't wake up soon, we might have to make the decision to take her off the ventilator. "

Fuck no, I'm awake!

Gerard shift uncomfortably, probably not knowing what to say to that. I mean, shit, that's scary. I want to scream, to show them I’m right here, but my body won’t obey. Every inch of me feels like it’s submerged in thick, suffocating darkness, refusing to let me up for air. The soft hum of machines, the distant murmur of voices—everything feels like it’s just out of reach. But I can hear them. I can hear Gerard.

The warmth of his hand on mine grounds me, his fingers wrapped around mine with a grip that’s both desperate and gentle. God, he must be terrified. I’ve never heard him sound like this, so… hollow, so helpless. My chest feels tight, my heart pounding somewhere far beneath the haze. I want to open my eyes, to tell him I’m fine, that he doesn’t have to worry, but all I can manage is the faintest flicker of awareness.

The doctor’s voice echoes in my mind, each word cold and clinical. Take her off the ventilator. The thought jolts me, and I try again to fight against the weight pinning me down. But nothing. My fingers, my voice, my body—it’s all locked up, refusing to let me break through.

“Please, just… give her more time,” Gerard’s voice is barely above a whisper, like he’s afraid to speak too loudly, like the wrong word might tip the scales. “She’s strong. She’ll come back. I know she will.”

His words stir something deep inside me, a flicker of strength I thought had long burned out. He believes in me, even now. Even after everything, he’s still here, holding on. And if he can do that, then so can I. I’m not giving up. I can’t give up. Not like this.

The doctor murmurs something I can’t quite catch, and I can feel Gerard’s grip tighten on my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles, steady, grounding. My mind claws at the surface, desperate to break free, to show him I’m still here. I focus on the warmth of his touch, on the pressure of his hand in mine, letting it anchor me in the chaos.

In my mind, I scream, I push, I fight with every ounce of strength I have left. And then… something shifts. The fog lifts just a little, just enough for a sliver of light to break through, and I feel the faintest flicker of movement in my fingers, a tiny twitch that feels monumental. It’s small, almost imperceptible, but I pray he notices.

For the first time, hope stirs in my chest. Maybe it’s enough. Maybe Gerard’s right. Maybe I can come back from this.

"Gee.." I manage, I finally manage to fucking speak and suddenly he jolts.

"Oh my god, (Y/N)?" He says, voice seeking refuge. Fuck, I still have no energy. I'm so fucking weak. I guess they put me on painkiller, because something wore off and suddenly there's stinging in my knee and inside of my arm.

"Fuck.." I manage to say again as I finally pry my eyelids open and get blinded by the LA sun. And there Gerard is, his hair is black again? And it's longer? Fuck, how long was I asleep?

He looks sunken, tired. His face is dry, his lips chapped. He's wearing a basic hoodie and jeans, and he's shaking. What did I do to him?

Tears well up in my eyes as my lip quivers. He squeezes my hand, pressing a kiss to the cold skin. "Gee..?" I whisper, my voice breaking as the tears fall. He shushes me, leaning forward to grab my face.

"I'm here, sugar. It's okay, I'm here," He soothingly coos. I don't deserve. Fuck, I don't deserve it.

Mustering strength, I shake my head. He looks confused as to why I'm shaking my head, like I didn't just put him through hell.

"I don't deserve it," I say silently as the tears flow freely.

Gerard’s brows furrow as he absorbs my words, confusion flickering across his face. “What are you talking about?” he asks softly, his voice filled with concern. I can see the way he’s trying to hold it together, but the fear in his eyes tells me just how much I’ve scared him.

I wish I had the strength to scream at him, to tell him he shouldn’t be here, that he shouldn’t have to deal with any of this. I wish I could take it all back—the nights spent lost in a haze, the moments when I chose the needle over everything else. Over him. I’m not even sure I can muster the strength to look him in the eye, but I need him to understand.

“(Y/N), listen to me,” he pleads, his voice cracking as he wipes away the tears streaming down my cheeks with his thumb. “You’re here now. You woke up. That’s what matters. We can figure this out together.”

“Together…” I whisper, the word feeling heavy on my tongue. It’s the one thing I’ve always wanted, but how can I ask him to shoulder my burden when it nearly crushed me? I squeeze his hand as best as I can, but my body feels like lead. The pain in my knee pulses with every heartbeat, a reminder of how far I’ve fallen.

Gerard’s eyes widen when I shake my head again, more vigorously this time. “No,” I manage, voice hoarse and weak, “I can’t… I can’t keep doing this to you.” My breath shudders, and a fresh wave of tears spills over, unbidden. “I can’t keep hurting you like this. I didn’t want it to come to this.”

“Stop it,” he says firmly, his grip on my hand tightening. “You’re not hurting me. You’re hurting yourself, and that’s what I want to fix. I just need you to let me help you.” The urgency in his voice is palpable, as if he fears that the moment he stops speaking, I might slip away again.

His words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of reality. I want to believe him, to believe that I can fight this and come back stronger, but the darkness that wrapped around me so easily feels just a breath away. I shudder at the memory of that night, the way the world faded out while I sought solace in a high that only brought destruction.

“Gee, I don’t know if I can…” The confession slips from my lips, the words tumbling out like stones weighing me down. “I don’t know if I can fight this. It’s too much. I was so fucking tired. I thought…” I choke on my words, feeling the shame rise in my throat.

“I thought I could escape it.” The admission feels like a knife to my gut. I can see the realization dawning on his face—the guilt, the sorrow—and it breaks me even further. “I thought maybe if I just… if I just took a little, it would help. But it didn’t. It never does.”

“(Y/N), you don’t have to do this alone,” he murmurs, leaning in closer, his voice low and steady. “I don’t care how long it takes. I’m not going anywhere. I swear it. You’re stronger than this. You can fight back, and I’ll be right here with you every step of the way.”

But can I? The question echoes in my mind, threatening to drown me again. I glance at him, the sun streaming in behind him, illuminating the lines of worry etched into his features. He’s not just here for me; he’s fighting for us. And it breaks my heart to think I could lose him over my choices.

“Please, just give me a chance,” he whispers, his breath warm against my skin. “Don’t give up on yourself, (Y/N). You’re worth so much more than this.”

I stare into his eyes, searching for the flicker of hope I desperately want to feel. Maybe I can do this. Maybe I can find my way back. With a shuddering breath, I nod slightly, even though it feels like a monumental task.

“I don’t know if I can…” My voice falters, heavy with uncertainty as I search Gerard’s eyes for any sign of reassurance. The weight of my admission presses down on me, the enormity of what lies ahead making my heart race.

But Gerard leans in closer, his expression earnest and unwavering. “You’ve already started, (Y/N). Just waking up is a huge step. It means you’re still fighting.” His fingers brush my cheek gently, wiping away the remnants of tears, and his touch sends a spark of warmth through my cold skin.

“What if it’s not enough?” I whisper, fear gnawing at me. “What if I can’t do it?”

“You’re stronger than you think. You’ve fought so hard to come back already.” His voice is filled with a quiet strength that I desperately cling to, but the uncertainty still lingers in my gut.

“Gerard…” I hesitate, my throat tightening as I contemplate my next words. “How long have I been… out?”

He hesitates, his gaze flickering for just a moment, and that tiny pause sends dread spiraling through me. “Um, about a month,” he finally says, and the words hit me like a cold wave.

A month? Oh my God, he probably thought I was going to die. "I'm sorry.." I sob. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, Gerard."

He stays silent. He doesn't want to forgive me, I know he probably won't. He stays quiet for a minute, his thoughts clearly racing in his mind.

"How's the record doing..?" I ask, breaking through the silence. He looks at me, clearly shocked that I was worried about that than other things.

"Um, great from the bits and pieces I've heard." He started, shifting in his chair. "We scheduled a tour, it starts in February," he starts, avoiding eye contact.

Then I realize, I don't know what the date is. He said it'd been a month, but that doesn't necessarily mean exactly a month. A little under? Over? Did I miss Christmas? "What's the date?"

"December 19th," He said, looking at me through his lashes.

"I didn't miss Christmas," I say quietly, more to myself than him. "How long do I have to be in here?"

Gerard glances down at his hands, which are still wrapped around mine. I can feel the tension radiating off him, the worry that’s etched into every line on his face. “The doctors say you’ll be here for a bit longer. They want to make sure you’re stable before they talk about releasing you.” His voice is low, almost a murmur, as though he’s afraid to say too much.

I swallow, feeling a lump rise in my throat as the reality of it all sets in. "So... I’ll be spending Christmas here."

The words hang in the air, a weight between us. His silence is almost unbearable, and I find myself gripping his hand tighter, desperate for some kind of response, some kind of reassurance. “I really am sorry, Gerard," I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t want this. I never wanted to hurt you like this.”

He looks at me then, his expression pained, like he’s carrying the weight of every moment he spent watching me lie here, lifeless. “It was hell, you know?” he finally says, his voice trembling. “Waking up every day not knowing if I’d lose you. Not knowing if you’d ever open your eyes again.”

A sob catches in my throat. I try to speak, to apologize again, but he squeezes my hand, and I stop, swallowing back the flood of guilt. “I was angry, (Y/N). So damn angry. I couldn’t understand how you could let it get this far.” He pauses, a tear slipping down his cheek. “But then… I realized it didn’t matter. I just wanted you to come back. That’s all I’ve wanted.”

“I’m here now,” I manage, my voice cracking. “I’m here, and I—I don’t want to go back to that place, Gerard. I want to do better.”

He nods, swallowing hard as he looks down, taking a deep breath before meeting my gaze again. “Then that’s all that matters. You’re here, and that’s enough for me. Everything else, the tours, the records—that can wait. You’re what’s important.”

I take a shuddering breath, his words sinking in, easing the guilt just a little. “I’ll get through this, Gee. I’ll fight.”

His lips press into a small, sad smile, and he reaches out, brushing a tear from my cheek. “You don’t have to do it alone. I’ll be here every step of the way. No matter how long it takes.”

I nod, trying to blink back the tears. "Thank you. For not giving up on me."

Gerard shifts his chair closer, leaning in until his forehead touches mine. “I’d wait a lifetime if I had to, (Y/N). I’m not going anywhere.” His voice is barely a whisper, but it holds so much conviction that it fills me with warmth, even here, in this sterile hospital room.

The moment stretches between us, silent but heavy with everything we’ve been through and everything we still have to face. But with him here, maybe… maybe it doesn’t feel as daunting. Maybe, with him here, I’ll have the strength to face it after all.

thank you so much for reading this series. this story is actually for one of my OCs, but i decided to write it here. my mom was a heroin addict when i was younger (she's so much better now), and idk sometimes when you're a writer, you have to use the things that have affected you.

XOXO_lucajayms

#my chemical romance #mcr #gerard way #fanfiction #frank iero #gerard way x reader #mikey way #my chem #mychemicalromance #ray toro #mychem #the black parade

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nerdthatsiriuslylovesteaxx · 8 months ago

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I was bored

I was lying in bed trying to read, I didn't particularly enjoy reading in English but Annabeth and Percy had been helping me and I didn't want that to go to waste. Then Annabeth walked in through the half open door, holding a pair of scissors.

"Finally someone to put me out of my misery." I mutter putting the book down,

"Nope, but I will be bringing that up to your therapist. I think it's time for a haircut Nico." She said smiling like a maniac,

"Oh fuck no." I say running past her and out the front door. My hair was in a braid down my back; I ran as fast as I could but I knew Annabeth was faster than me. I saw her chasing me, I could probably shadow travel away but when her minds set to something it's very hard to get her to give up. I honestly didn't care too much but why not add a bit of excitement into this. "Why the fuck are you doing this?"

"I'm bored."

"Go find someone else to annoy."

"Don't think I will Neeks." I flipped her off and continued running, she grabbed my wrist. I shadow traveled to the edge of the forest and ran towards the center, I was hoping to throw her off but she spotted me pretty quickly and ran after me. I should have been able to stay away with the lead I had but the shadow travel tired me out and Annie's fast. I was about to shadow travel away again, "You do realise if you pass out you can do whatever I want right?"

"Fuck you."

"Save that for Will." I blushed hard before shadow traveling back to my cabin, I knew I wouldn't be able to run properly after that, but I got away for a bit. "You aren't getting away that easy, Angel boy." She said walking through the door, I was honestly too tired to do anything.

"Fine, you win. But please don't fuck up too badly."

"You have such little faith in me, I'm offended."

"We both know that that is very reasonable."

"Shut up di Angelo." She quite literally pulled me into a chair and started brushing out my hair. "When's the last time you even cut it?"

"Like a month ago I think? Will cuts the ends, it terrifys him so it's always entertaining as fuck."

"You're a terrible person Nico." Annabeth laughed

"I am fully aware; what are you doing to my hair anyways?"

"I think it's time for a change."

"Oh no.... PLEASE don't dye my hair, I am never doing that shit again."

"Don't worry... but you are getting an undercut." I paused for a couple of seconds,

"Now you see the concept, I have no problem with but the thought of you doing that...."

"Oh shut up I can actually be accurate."

"Fine, I trust you." Annabeth sectioned my hair into two parts plaiting them separately, one around the bottom and edges, one on top.

"You ready?"

"I really don't care, honestly I just wanted to make this hard for you."

"Of course you did." The daughter of Athena said while cutting off the bottom braid before buzzing the now short hair, she threw the braid in front of me. "Well that was a lot of hair."

"No shit." I laughed before hitting Annabeth lightly in the shoulder, she started taking out the rest of my hair that was in a braid and brushing it out again.

"What do you think Will's gonna say?"

"He's not going to give a fuck let's be honest with ourselves."

"You seem so certain on that."

"He didn't care when I got twenty tattoo in one day, I mean he was concerned and gave me a bunch of pain killers and kept me in the infirmary for a day but that's unrelated. I doubt he's going to give two fucks about a haircut."

"I am not going to ask why you got twenty tattoos in one day." Annabeth started cutting the rest of my wavy, thick, black hair to just around my shoulders, layering it before adding some bangs, that were long enough for me to put behind my ears. "So thoughts?"

"I'd love to give them but there isn't a mirror here."

"That's irrelevant, I want to see Will's reaction."

"That's the whole reason you did this wasn't it?"

"Naaa, I was just really fucking bored." I laughed as I ran my fingers through my hair, it was so much shorter than I had, had it in years but was kind of nice. Honestly I also really wanted to see what Will would say, I didn't think he'd be judgemental or anything. But the thoughts always had to cross my mind, all the 'what ifs?' I push them out of my mind and tell Annabeth to wait for a minute so I can wash and properly do my hair. It took about a quarter of the time it used to but still that moment of time made me think of every possible reaction for Will to have, I decided to leave my hair out as we walk to the Apollo cabin. I knocked of the door and unsurprisingly Will answered it, he saw me and kind of froze, a bit shocked.

"So what do you think?" I muttered, Will pulled me closer to him and sunk into a kiss, he tasted like strawberries. He ran his fingers through my hair; he was warm always, smelling like rubbing alcohol mixed with roses and a sweet scent I could never really place. I wrapped my arms around his neck standing on my tiptoes to reach him, grabbing the ends of Will's short, curly, blonde hair. As we broke the kiss he leaned down and whispered,

"You look amazing my Angel." I blushed and that is when we realised Annabeth was recording the whole thing and was running off to cabin one to show Jason.

------------

Not a helpless chapter (sorry about that, the next chapters long and I haven't had time to write)

Pls give advice cuz I don't think the plot makes sense.

I don't know if I really like this ficlet, I started it in the middle of writing the Ariel chapter because I hated writing it so much I needed something to write that wasn't helpless.

I don't really like it but I feel like might as well post it.

I have a Angel Dust ficlet that I wrote a few weeks ago so comment if u want to see it

You will be getting Harry Potter, specifically marauders shit soon because I have far too many wolfstar ideas that I want to write that I haven't.

If you read my Wattpad stuff I promise I'll try to update Not All Hero's Have Happy Endings and if anyone wants (don't know who's reading it at this point cuz I've barely started) Mischief Managed, I was actually very excited when I started it but I think the style might change a lot cuz I started that like two years ago.

If you have any fandoms u want fics for I will try to write some, just comment.

The mystery in my mind is taking over, maybe the time is up. I will always be there with you, I promise I'll always be there.

Love,

-Siri

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m-ayo-o · 1 year ago

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urge

25+ characters // impatient Yuji // stripping // dry humping wc 690 bonus chapter for this: extended fic previous | next

You flop on the sofa in Megumi's apartment, feeling tired all of a sudden after your eventful evening. Yuji pulls you closer for a snuggle as Megumi heads for a shower, wanting to freshen up and get changed.

“Mm Yuji, you’re so warm…” you wrap your arms around him, enjoying his comforting touch.

“I’m even warmer under here,” he takes your hand and pushes his jumper up, your eyes widening as you feel his body.

You’ve seen Yuji in tight t-shirts and well fitting smart shirts, but you’ve never actually seen his body before, let alone touched him. “Oh, Yuji…” you whisper as you feel his abs, earning a giggle, “What? Am I more ripped than Gumi?”

Megumi has more lean muscle and cooler, paler skin with blue veins showing through, his skin looking almost translucent in places. His delicate and somewhat feminine facial features, namely his long eyelashes and pretty dark eyes, contrast with his strong, masculine figure. Yuji is so, so different, and you’re taken aback as you feel his gorgeous body beneath his jumper.

You feel your face heating up and you pull your hand out before either of you get too worked up.

You’re trying so hard to wait patiently for Megumi to return, but you and Yuji just can’t keep your hands off each other. You kneel up on his lap, straddling him in your short dress.

“You sure this is ok?” He sounds a little hesitant.

“He’s your best friend,” you say quietly as Yuji nods, “you know he trusts you,” he nods quickly, smiling up at you. God, he’s so cute. “He knows you can take care of me, Yuji,” you smile, prodding his bulging chest.

Then you feel something else bulging from beneath you as Yuji lets out a sigh, suddenly grabbing your hips. “Yuji…” you whine a little, not wanting to get too turned on before Megumi joins you. You're afraid it might be too late already as Yuji’s hips start moving, grinding his erection into you impatiently.

“Ok Yuji, if you stay still I'll reward you,” you tell him.

“Reward?” He tilts his head, just about managing to still his hips.

“Good job, Yuji,” you stroke his jaw as he leans into your touch, enjoying your praise with a cute smile, “you can have your reward now,” you smile as you stand up, your fingers curling around the bottom edge of your tight dress, pulling it up slowly.

You tease the hem up over your thighs then fully remove the material, leaving you in your lacy, black lingerie and knee socks.

Yuji swallows hard, gazing over your body, “You, you let Gumi choose your underwear too?” He murmurs in disbelief.

Is it really that obvious?

You nod, looking down and pulling your socks up, “It's not a matter of letting him, he can tell me what he wants… and I'll do it.”

“Whatever he wants?” Yuji asks breathlessly.

You nod again, smiling at Yuji's disbelieving expression.

“And tonight, you can tell me what you want, Yuji,” you murmur as you step closer to him.

Yuji's big hands find your waist.

“W-what I want…” his voice trembles a little. He pulls you in, his rough hands feeling up and down your back, settling on your ass, turning you slightly to see you in your little thong.

“Oh…” he whispers, gently stroking you, “Gumi… did this?” He turns you fully and stares at the now faded bruise on your ass. You nod, “So you'll have to be gentle with me tonight, ok?” You know Yuji is the last person on Earth you have to caution like this.

“I would never dream of…” he trails off as his hands massage your legs, suddenly turning you back around, pulling you onto his lap again.

“I'm gonna take such good care of you,” he looks up, holding you close.

“I know,” you smile, your fingers tracing over his lips then working up into his pink hair. He lets out some soft groans, gently rubbing his head against you as you stroke him. Yuji wraps his strong arms up your back, pulling you down harder as he loses his patience.

keep reading: connect masterlist bonus chapter m.list

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #female reader #yuji itadori #yuji x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader

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g-h-0-s-t-3-d · 5 months ago

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Evening Lookouts and Quiet Promises - Ghost x Hawk Oneshot

A/N: here's a little oneshot for y'all to get a taste of Simon and Wren before I start posting their full fic Silhouettes and Songbirds! This is far later into their relationship, post-MW2 but pre-MW3.

Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, SFW, Military Themes (Call of Duty)

“So you’re telling me, Johnny drank three tall bottles of pure rum and ran a mission the next day like it was nothing?”

“I swear on my life.”

Simon let out an amused huff. She grinned wide - the world was beautiful beneath their sniper position on an old roof tonight, a vibrant sunset painting the sky above the town strewn below.

“Really, Si, you shouldn’t be that surprised… I’ve seen you down glasses of bourbon that would make grown men cry.” She chuckled lightly, giving him a playful nudge. His eyes narrowed when her shoulder met his, but she knew it was only a facade.

“C’mon… don’t tell me you don’t like it. I know you’re lying.” A cheeky grin, a singsong voice… she knew exactly what to do to get him flustered.

“I don’t like it.” He deadpanned, his stony gaze unwavering.

“And I know you’re lying.”

“Am I?”

“You sure seemed to like it last night.”

His eyes widened at her quip, the obnoxious glimmer in her eye a strange mix of aggravating and amusing as she waited excitedly for his reaction. He inhaled deeply, pressing his index finger to the bridge of his nose.

“Keep it tactical, Sergeant.”

She scoffed. “I hate you sometimes, you know that?”

He adjusted his mask on his face. “That’s not what you said last night.”

She gasped dramatically and smacked his shoulder. He let out a light, easy chuckle - music to her ears. It was rare that Ghost laughed… even rarer that she got to hear it like this.

When Soap laughed, it was like the embodiment of the sun. For Simon, it was the moon - only coming out when the rest of the world is quiet, when he could shine for the few who listen. When she could listen.

“You’re a bastard, Riley.”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

She rolls her eyes. He chuckles again, and… he leans against her. She stiffens for just a moment at the sensation - it was rare that Simon ever accepted contact, let alone initiated it.

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

“Don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Little Bird.”

She smirks before her lips settle in an easy smile. The banter was natural between the two of them; it was familiar. She searched for it, craved it - a sort of fucked up love language for two fucked up people.

But when the lights went low and skin met skin, all the banter boiled down to things they couldn’t ever say in their waking hours. It was why, in moments like this when she swears by any higher power that might be up there that Simon was made for her, she held his wrist gently and rolled his sleeve up, turning his arm to reveal his intricate black tattoo sleeve. When she was tired, she traced the inky designs with her heavy eyes. When she was sad, she watched her tears roll down the deep black. When she was happy, she clutched it like a lifeline, like it was her very will to live, because he was her will to live.

It was why she pulled a pen out of her pocket and traced along the lines of the sleeve, slow and careful and loving. It was why he let her. And it was why, when she finally reached the edge of the sleeve at his upper bicep, she scrawled three words - small, but clear - on the scarred skin.

‘I love you.’

She writes it so he doesn’t have to say it. Not because he doesn’t mean it, and not because he doesn’t want to say it… but some things between them were just better left unsaid. If they both knew, then what did it matter?

So he smiled, and he took her arm in his hand, positioning the marker over the juncture between her arm and her shoulder. Three words - small, but clear.

‘I love you.’

I love you, too. And he did - he really, really fucking did.

(And if she went and got those very same words tattooed on that very same spot, that was nobody’s business but her own.)

#call of duty #cod #call of duty oc #cod oc #call of duty original character #cod original character #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw #simon ghost riley #simon riley #task force 141 x oc #simon riley x oc #simon ghost riley x oc #simon riley x original character #Simon Riley x Wren #Ghost x Hawk #Ghost x Wren #GhostHawk #Wren Hawk Riley

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greatgigintheskiess · 2 years ago

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With Me

Chapter 2: New Impressions

CW: (Implied) Child Abuse, Lab Whump, Starvation

Word Count: 2.6 k

The day had started like any other usual October morning for Don. He woke up on the couch in his living room at the time of 8 am, feeling more exhausted than well rested, since his bed had been taken by the boy he 'found' last night. Don pulled the thin blanket off his body and sat up. The small TV, standing on a wooden cabinet by the window across the room, was turned off. Don was only staring on a black screen, recognizing his reflection in it. His head was aching slightly when he covered his face with both hands and rubbed his sleepy eyes. A slight pain ran through Don's neck as he was stretching, massaging pleasurably the sore spot with his fingers. He stood up with a groan about his throbbing neck and went into the bathroom.

Water splashed against his face, immediately cooling his skin, which made him feel a little bit more awake. He turned off the faucet, braced both hands on the edge of the sink and took a deep breath with his eyes closed as remaining water dripped from his face. Don looked up and saw himself in the small mirror above the sink. His dark hair was unkempt, the eyes looked tired despite sleep.

We really should get more sleep, don't we?

It was no wonder, when he was always coming home late from hunting. And spending the rest of this stressful night on his small uncomfortable couch sure didn't help with that nor his neck or back. Last night was certainly one of the most exciting things Don had experienced in his life by far. Yet, he also had responsibilities to assume now- something he had never to deal with before.

Before, it was him. And only him. He had no one to care for, to look after.

But now Don had this weird little child in his house he didn't know what to do with. He was there and, in the aftermath, all of yesterday's actions still flashed before Don's eyes like a fever dream. And honestly, he also wished it to be exactly that- a dream.

Apart from this, the man tried to carry out his morning routine as usual though, trying to clear his mind with something familiar in all of this mess. So Don had boiled up some water to drink his coffee and sat down at the small table in his kitchen like every morning. He turned up the radio in the kitchen and listened to the news. Nothing unusual, still the same old stuff. After breakfast he decided to take a pain reliever for his neck. Don took the pill and swallowed it with a bit of water. Just when he wanted to put back the pills, he saw many bandages and salves laying on the kitchen counter, everything in a mess.

He sighed, being reminded of his main task once again. Because no matter how hard he tried to blend it out, pushing it in front of himself, maybe he really should look after the kid now.

Of that Don slowly became aware when he entered the bedroom and caught sight of a little figure laying in his bed, shifting and glancing towards him with big frightened eyes. Disinfecting the boy's wound wasn't easy, it really wasn't. And Don was so worried about doing something wrong, about hurting him even more. Sure, he also could've left the child there in the forest, claiming that it wasn't his problem. But something deep down in his heart had told him otherwise. Was it him getting attached to something way too quick or did he just see it as responsibility to purify his conscience?

When Don was finished with disinfecting and saw how the boy, Six, burst out in tears right in front of him, he also believed to feel pity for him. The man sighed.

What did I bring upon myself? Don thought to himself when he left the room, leaving the kid all puzzled and confused.

But the worst thing of all was that none of this had been the child's fault. He was just thrown into this complicated situation without being asked. Don could only hope that he would bring the kid back on his feet again as fast as possible before any local authorities got wind of this. That night, he had thought a lot about how to deal with this situation. It's not that Don wanted to get rid of the boy as soon as possible but, honestly, he also had a bad hunch about all of this. He barely knew anything about the kid and judging by his looks and weird behavior, something about this child seemed so utterly wrong.

Not to be selfish but Don really didn't mind returning back to his usual life without any further consequences or responsibilities. Right now, he only has to master this one situation. So the man turned up the stove and started making something to eat as it was already lunch time. Also the kid was surely hungry after the long night.

Don carefully opened the door to his bedroom and stepped in with a bowl and spoon in his hands.

"Six, are you hungry? I made you soup." He told the boy, who almost jumped up in the bed at the sight of the man.

The kid didn't reply and eyed Don as he sat beside him on the edge of the bed, helding the bowl out to him. At least, the boy had stopped crying and only reddened tired eyes anxiously darted at the man, dark eye rings underneath.

"There, chicken broth." Don added. ,,That'll get you back on your feet."

Six insecurely looked down to the food being offered to him and then back again to Don as if it was supposed to be something poisonous the man had tried to give him. The pleasant scents were rising into the boy's nose, tempting him to accept the offer as he felt his stomach growling. Still, he hesitated and didn't dare moving an inch, noticing the man's pinning glance out of the corner of his eye.

"C'mon, you gotta eat somethin', kid." The man urged the boy.

He already expected this kind of reaction as the child still wasn't fully trusting him. But Don wanted, no insisted, on taking care of the boy's basic necessities. He was shocked how light the kid was when he had carried him to his car and his house last night. He weighed almost nothing, the child was only skin and bones. Plus, physically he was still in a very worrying state. Don remembered the many injuries and bruises on the boy's arms and legs, so that he continued to ask himself what had happened to him. Although, if he was being really honest, he wasn't sure if he wanted to find that out.

Six still looked a bit unsure but Don could clearly see him staring at the bowl with hungry eyes. Then, he finally gave in and took the bowl with trembling hands, feeling the warmth of the soup in his palms. The boy straightened a bit in the bed, placing the bowl on the blanket between his knees and chest.

Don watched the child patiently, handing him the spoon, too.

"Careful though, it's hot." He told the boy, who seemed to enjoy the warm feeling in his small hands as his features eased in an instant.

Don really didn't want the kid to be more uncomfortable than he already was in the man's presence. So maybe he could at least make the boy feel warm and fed.

The kid hesitantly took a spoon full of soup and drew it to his lips. The warm liquid poured down his throat, leaving the delightful flavors on his tongue. He had never tasted something so good before. He took another spoon, this time a bit more of it, but still cautiously. Another one followed and another, until the bowl was empty.

Don couldn't help but smile as the boy seemed to like the food a lot.

"Good?" He smirked, expecting an affirmation, praising his rather non-existing cooking skills.

At least there were some people who would eat his food, Don thought amused.

The boy nodded eagerly in response while eating the broth spoon for spoon. Warmth spread within his body as he finished eating. It felt good.

For a brief moment, the boy really felt delighted, could blend out all these negative things in his mind. But in the next, Six was thrown back into bitter reality. He wasn't supposed to feel good. It just wasn't his natural state. Whenever he briefly had felt good, pain would follow right after. So it was no wonder when he soon started developing feelings of shame and embarrassment. Because even if there had been happiness, it always left behind that bitter aftertaste of not knowing how long that feeling would last.

So the boy started feeling anxious again and winced when the man had addressed him.

"More?" Don asked, still with a slight smile on his lips.

Staring at him, Six only now did realize that he was asked a question. There was more of it? Usually, he only got one portion of food per day. And now he could eat more than that? It appeared odd to the boy but honestly, he really would like another bowl of this. Just when he wanted to open his mouth, there again was this feeling. That shouldn't be it. He was not allowed to ask for more food. Everyone gets their ration per day, no exceptions.

Back there, he never got the opportunity to eat as much as he wanted, so the boy's decision wasn't that hard to make. He had to use this opportunity, because who knows when the next time would be, where he could get any food? You're disgusting, he thought to himself. You're selfish. And being selfish means punishment.

Don noticed that the kid was pondering about something after the question but decided to wait for his response. He saw how the child's cheeks turned crimson, he flustered, was too embarrassed to look into the man's face.

"Y-yes...?" The boy replied shyly, tapping his fingers at the sides of the bowl he was still holding in his hands.

It sounded more like a question than an answer to Don. And when he noticed the boy was trying to avoid any eye contact, nervously fidgeting his fingers, he could also tell that the kid was very embarrassed right now, though he couldn't think of a single reason. What was wrong with asking for more food?

Still, he gave the boy a warm smile.

"A'ight."

Carefully, the man took the bowl out of the boy's hands and went into the kitchen. He came back with it, completely filled with broth again, handing it to Six. The kid again hesitated first, until he started eating more avidly, without even looking at Don, as if he hadn't eaten in weeks.

"Gods, kid. You're actin' like you eat it for the first time in your life. Doesn't your momma give you that when you're sick?" He remarked, a brow furrowing in confusion.

For a brief moment, the boy hesitated, his glance falling to Don.

Don believed he might've hit a soft spot when mentioning the boy's parents in his remark. Maybe the child had some bad experiences with his parents so that would be the reason for not mentioning them at all. Maybe they neglected him, were abusive even. But, to his surprise, the child didn't even flatter one eyelash. Six slightly shook his head in response before averting his eyes.

"Just paste..." The boy mumbled as he swallowed another spoon of soup.

Now Don was really confused. He gave the kid a puzzled look, not understanding what he meant with that. After all, Don had the urge to find out more about the boy's background but hesitated to ask him about it as he feared doing something wrong. He was rather insecure with kids, like really insecure about what to say and what not. Despite that, the man had tried to appear as friendly as possible but building up trust was surely a challenge for him to face. Especially if it was kinda his fault that the boy even ended up here with him.

"Paste?" Don frowned. "You mean like porridge or mush?"

The boy finished his meal and stared into the empty bowl. Don wondered if it had been enough to satisfy the child's hunger.

He also noticed that the boy's attitude from before now drastically changed to a more serious one. Before, he was full of emotions; fear, tension, shame, anxiety. But now he sat there still, barely breathing and it seemed like life had disappeared out of his eyes.

Just when Don wanted to add something, he heard the boy mutter something under his breath.

"Concentrate... It's grey, no taste. But regains strength."

The man thought he had misheard. He believed to know what the boy meant with that but didn't want it to be true. That couldn't be it. Don't tell me the kid never got something else to eat than that.

Concentrate, feed. The stuff they give to animals.

There was no feeling in the world that could express the one Don had right now. He already thought the conditions, where the boy used to live in, to be bad, but not this bad. That was just straight up awful.

No wonder why the child was so skinny and emaciated without any proper nutrition.

Don shook his head in disbelief. He really hoped that the boy was only lying to him and this was supposed to be some kind of unfunny joke but, judging by the serious expression on the child's face, it appeared to be the truth. Six still was sitting on the bed motionless, staring into the bowl, Don beside him, speechless. He had thought so long about how to respond to that shocking answer but didn't come up with any.

"And what 'bout your parents, boy?" Don asked instead carefully, waiting for the kid's reaction.

Six didn't raise his glance but continued to run his tiny fingers along the bowl's edge.

"I...never knew them…" He replied absently.

That was when Don believed to see something dawning on the child's face. It was sorrow. He looked down on the little boy, eyeing him for a while with concern.

"So you're an orphan, aren't you?"

No reply.

Although, one wasn't needed anyway. The answer was pretty obvious.

That explained a lot but at the same time nothing at all, Don thought. He had tried so hard to look through this mess but the more he found out, the more he felt insecure with the boy.

All in all, this whole case was certainly one: Confusing.

Eventually, Don decided to end this conversation here and leave the boy alone; these probably had been enough impressions for one day. And Don didn't want to overwhelm the child more.

So he stood up from the bed and pointed to the bowl in the boy's hands. "I'll clean that up first. Comin' later again."

Six finally raised his head, as if he was thrown out of his trance. He didn't reply but watched the man silently exit the room again.

His glance fell to the window, through which he could see a forest of pines in the distance while the landscape was completely immersed in dense autumn fog, the sun barely shining through. It was afternoon already.

Taglist: @i-eat-worlds @smellofsnoww

#lab whump #hospital whump #whump #child whumpee #caretaker #recovery whump #original story #original writing #whumpee #whump writing #found family #whump community #hurt/comfort #parental caretaker #post rescue #ocs #writers on tumblr #medical whump

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giggly-squiggily · 2 years ago

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Toy Capsules and Memories (Tokyo Revengers)

Two fics in one day who is she? ~ *sparkles as I flip my hair* A procrastinator~

Heyo! I was hit by a sudden burst of energy and also an onslaught of nostalgia and I am here to present to you all the result of said event! Really- I just wanted to write for Lee!Chifuyu. I hope y’all like it! :D

Summary: Chifuyu and Baji hang out on a lazy afternoon.

CW: Swearing

Cloud 9 (Taglist peeps)

@duckymcdoorknob @myreygn @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13

“Dude, how many times have you read that thing? It’s falling apart.”

Chifuyu hummed from behind his manga, thumbing the bent edges of the book. It was just as Baji said- falling apart. The spine was cracked from how many times he’d stretched it open- a lightning bolt of white crackling down the center. The cover had faded in time- what was once bright colors of the protagonist were now muted and dirty with dust. A corner of the manga was warped from the time he dropped it in the puddle- too caught up in a fight to care. It was Baji who saved it from its watery grave.

It was floppy and faded and the pages were yellowing, but Chifuyu didn’t have the heart to replace it or throw it away. It was special to him.

“What? It’s my first ever owned manga! It’s like an ancient relic!” Chifuyu argued halfheartedly, flipping a page- internally cringing when the paper beneath his thumb nearly tore. Okay. Maybe it was on its last leg.

Baji huffed, flopping down unceremoniously across Chifuyu’s stomach as he tried to get a glace at the name. “NANA? Pfft- of course you’d read something so girly.”

“Says the guy who religiously rewatches Carmen.” That earned him a jab to the belly, making him squirm with a snort.

“Watch it! Don’t you dare disrespect the work of Yuto Natori.” If the threat was real, Chifuyu couldn’t tell.

“Don’t disrespect the work of Ai Yazawa then.” Chifuyu replied, smug when he heard Baji grumble against him about this and that. He sounded tired, and his hair smelled nicer than usual. “Trying a new shampoo?” He asked, running a hand over the soft black locks.

“Eh, mom’s making me use it. Said I can’t keep using bar soap.” He twitched beneath Chifuyu’s fingers, not used to the affection. In retaliation he started tracing random shapes against the fluffier parts of Chifuyu’s hoodie, realigning the fur this way and that.

“B-Bar soap?” The shorter man twitched at the tickly feeling, trying not to move. Whether it was his intention or not, Baji was tickling him. “H-How the hell, d-dude?”

“I don’t know- I just did! I didn’t stink, and it was there.” Baji shrugged, lips twitching upward as he took in how tense the other was becoming beneath him. “She found out and gave me a whole lecture on how bad it was and how I’d go bald before I turn 18. So what if I do? I’ll get a cool tattoo on my head like Draken- maybe a growling dog or something.”

“Thahat sounds stuhuhpid!” Chifuyu giggled out, shooting down a hand and trying to grab Baji’s. “Yoohohu’d look funny!”

“Funny? Aren’t you the one who put that Little Pet thing on your face when we were in middle school? The little cat tattoo?” Baji dodged his hand, moving it to the space between their bodies and continuing to lightly trace against his hoodie. “You ran up to Draken showing it off thinking you were hot shit. I’ll never forget how hard he laughed at you.”

“You hahahhad one tohoohoho!” Chifuyu giggled, opting to shove at Baji’s shoulders now since he was so adamant on tickling him. “It was lihihihittlest pehehehhet shohohohops! Yohooohu alahahhaso had a cahhahahhat!”

“Oh yeah- that’s what those were. Heh, I still have that black cat you gave me.” Baji added another hand, poking lightly into his waist and increasing the giggles. “And don’t lump me in with you stupid- I at least put mine on my arm! No one saw it!”

“Mihihihiihkey dihihiihhid- waiihihit you still hahahahve it?” Chifuyu gasped out between giggle fits, feeling his cheeks pinken. He hadn’t realized Baji was so sentimental.

“Why do you sound so surprised? What- don’t tell me you lost the one I gave you? Oh now you’re gonna get it!” Baji went from light tracing to full on tickles now; clawing lightly at his stomach and making Chifuyu squeak. “Come on, Chifuyu! You can keep a zombified manga alive but you couldn’t keep that cream cat I gave you all those years ago? Shame, shame.”

“Bahahhahahahaji, hohohohoohld ohoohohohon!” Chifuyu squirmed about, twisting this way and that beneath his friend’s relentless fingers. “Hehehhahahhar mehehehehe ohooohuht- ahh nohohoohoho doohohohohn’t! His hands shot down to Baji’s as the other started to wiggle them up beneath his hoodie. “Dohohohohon’t tiihihihickle mehhehehhe thehehehhere!”

“Oh? And why not?” Baji grinned, easily pushing past the guarding hands, drumming his fingers against the warm skin. “Does it tickle too much?”

“Ahehahahahhhahahah! Bahahhahahhahajihihiihihihihi!” Chifuyu all but cackled, arching up with his head thrown back in laughter. With no way to guard, he reached out and grabbed Baji’s wrists, more or less holding them as they drummed a random beat along his skin. “Cohoohohohme ohoohohon, thahhahat’s no faihahahhai-AH Doohohohohon’t piihihihihinch mhiihihihiihi puhuhuuhuhuuhdge!”

“Tch, Chifuyu, we’ve talked about this.” Baji shook his head in mock disappointment, continuing to pinch and press into the softer spots on Chifuyu’s belly, making him squeal and thrash. “Your squish is great! Beyond great really. It makes it that much easier for me to tickle you!” He let one hand move up to the blonde’s ribs while the other shot the hoodie up more, exposing his belly to the world. “Still, if you insist on arguing with me on it…”

“Bahhahahaji, bahahahahji wahahahit doohoohn’t you dahhHAHHAHAHHARE!” Chifuyu all but shrieked as the other blew a raspberry against his belly, his hands dribbling into his sides and adding to the tickles. Chifuyu nearly felt himself go silent with how hard he was laughing, kicking his legs helplessly as he howled in mirth. His face was on fire, and it started to hurt with how hard he was smiling. “BAHAHHAHAHAJI PLEHAHHAHAHAHASE!” He whimpered out as he felt his lungs start to collapse.

“Hehe, okay okay.” Baji sat back up with a wolfish grin, eyes dancing. He gave Chifuyu’s belly a good smack before pulling down his hoodie, cackling at the pinch he earned in retaliation. “God, you sound so funny when you laugh!”

“Shuhuhuuht up…Iihiihi’ll get you back.” Chifuyu groaned, covering his face with his arms. A risky move- given it was Baji, but he felt the other flop down beside him, stretching out his limbs like a cat.

“Sure you will, ‘Fuyu.” He grinned at him when the other lowered his arms. “You say that all the time yet you’ve never quite done so.”

“Times are changing. Watch out for me.” Chifuyu stuck out his tongue before turning to look around the room. He was sure it was there…

“What are you?” Baji began before watching Chifuyu shoot up, running to the shelf.

“Here it is!” He cried cheerfully, flopping back in the bed as he held out his cupped hands. When he pulled them back…

~~~

“Hey hey, look at this!” Chifuyu called as he and Baji walked home. They had stayed late afterschool for tutoring- Baji was getting better, even at the slow pace he was going.

“What is it?” Said man called out, coming to stand beside Chifuyu as he looked inside the toy dispenser. “Oh, one of those ball machines.”

“No no, look!” Chifuyu pointed excitedly. Within the tiny capsules were little animals. The sign on the machine said ‘Littlest Pet Shops.’ “They have cats! Apparently you get a little figure and a tattoo of the animal. That’s so cute!”

“Cute?” Baji looked closer, not really getting it. “You really do think they’re cute?”

“Erm…yeah.” Chifuyu cleared his throat, the reality of what he probably looked like right now making him twitch. “I guess they’re pretty dumb though. It’s a machine for little kids, right? We don’t need to-”

“Oi, got 100 yen?” Baji tapped the price. Chifuyu felt his heart race.

“Erm…yeah. I do.” He pulled a yen coin, startingt to offer it to Baji. The brunette had already beat him to the punch, dropping in one of his own and giving the machine a twist. Out popped a capsule. With a grin, he tossed it to Chifuyu.

“There.” He nodded. “That’s for tutoring me.”

Chifuyu looked at it, eyes wide. “Wait…for me?”

“That’s what I just said.” Baji rolled his eyes. “Well come on- open it!”

“You first.” Chifuyu walked forward and deposited his own coin. Another capsule was released. He gave it to Baji. “Now we both have one.”

Baji took it gently, laughing to himself. “Well…alright. Ready?”

They opened their capsules to find…

~~~

“Man. You really did keep it.” Baji laughed to himself, eyes soft as he looked at the cream kitten toy in Chifuyu’s hands. Even today, it looked brand new. Nothing like his manga- it looked as if Chifuyu just won it out of the machine earlier that morning.

“Of course I did! How could I ever get rid of it?” Chifuyu smiled at it fondly, nostalgia touching his cheeks and eyes. “It was the first gift you’ve ever given me.”

“It was? Shit…” Baji looked away, hiding his burning face in his hair. “I was such a sap, man.”

“You still are.” Chifuyu laughed, avoiding Baji’s retaliating jab as he returned the cat to its rightful place. “But that’s what I like about you.”

“God, now you’re being sappy! Shut up with all this mush!” Baji ran a hand through his hair to hide his smile, failing miserably. Chifuyu snorted before flopping back into the bed beside him.

“Hey, ‘Fuyu. This is wild but- when we get older. Do you want to run a pet shop together?” Baji suddenly asked, making Chifuyu turn in surprise.

“A petshop? Like- with cats and dogs and hamsters and all that?” He felt himself getting excited at the idea.

“Heh, guess I didn’t need to worry about you hesitating. Yeah- we’ll even get snakes and shit.” Baji then shuddered, growing pale. “But no spiders. I hate spiders.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Chifuyu snickered, raising a hand with wiggling fingers. “Don’t want big bad Baji to pee himself everyday at work~”

“Oh you little shit- Come here!” Tickles returned; Chifuyu cackling helplessly beneath him once more. Eventually his mom would probably come in and tell them to keep it down, but they’d worry about that later.

For now, he was just happy to have Baji by his side.

Thanks for reading!

#Tokyo revengers #tickle #tickle fic #baji keisuke #chifuyu matsuno #fluff #written platonic but can be shippy if you squint #walking down memory lane #anyone else remember littlest pet shops?#I feel like Baji and Chifuyu would absolutely love those #especially the cats #I just had the urge to write today and I did it :D #tw: swearing

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sukirichi · 3 years ago

Text

black magic [02]

request. arranged marriage + enemies to lovers (sukuna is a simp and lowkey a housewife) + sukuna’s first time with his wife

cw. slight angst, insecurities, lots of making out, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasm, sukuna worships reader, spitting, cum eating, teasing! sukuna, face-off kamasutra position, soft dom! sukuna, unedited fic, pwp

song inspo. leave the door open (bruno mars)

note. i want a husband sukuna

part one | part two

Sukuna gently takes your palm into his, soft and warm lips meeting your bruised knuckles that have seen years of hard work in exorcising curses like him. Uncanny that he showed so much affection to his enemy by nature, treating you with such care and tenderness that shouldn’t have been so possible for an evil creature like him. You’re supposed to love it, be grateful for it, yet his sweet gestures only irritate you, even more so when he retires to bed just like that without even so much sparing a glance your way.

You’ve been married for a year now that you’ve had enough of his confusing gestures towards you. One moment, he was showering you with love, regarding you like you were the light of his life before he’s walking away the next moment and pretending you don’t exist.

He was so infuriating. He would kiss you and hold you, but never touch you or be in the same room with you any longer than an hour. Even in bed, he’s always making sure his back is turned to you, peeling your arms off of him each time you attempt to cuddle him on times it got too cold. It hurts and dwells dangerously at the back of your mind – it would’ve been better if he got angry at you and announced he despised you, but he never did – that his hot and cold nature bothered you more than anything else.

You’ve eventually had enough that you just stopped caring. Barging in during his bath time, your nostrils flare upon seeing your husband so relaxed in the tub. Even after a year of marriage, he’s so unaffected and unaware by your need for him.

He really doesn’t care.

“Little one,” Sukuna blinks as he sits up from the tub, strong arms hanging off the edges of the bed. You admit; he really was beautiful and a desirable man that you couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but crave the one thing you knew you weren’t supposed to have. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you not want me?” you suddenly demand, tears already streaming down your face faster than you would like. Hell, you never wanted to cry in the first place. “Am I not desirable enough for you?”

Sukuna chuckles nervously.

Oh, great, now he’s nervous around you?

“What are you going on about?”

“Don’t act like I don’t know what you’re doing,” you snap, “Every time we go to bed, you always put some distance between us and keep to your side of the bed. You push me away when I try to reach for you and you never touch me or kiss me on the lips. I-I understand this marriage was against your will, but I’m still your wife and I need you, okay?” chest tightening uncomfortably, you place a hand over your poor, aching heart that is further crippled when Sukuna’s face falls. “I just feel like...you’re sickened by me, like you cannot stand to be with me in the same room as me. It makes me feel like...it would’ve been better if I wasn’t here.”

You don’t know what kind of response you’re expecting from him after your outburst, but definitely not him standing up to loom over you. You respectfully avert your eyes from the sinful image of water dripping down his defined body, but it’s too late and he’s too close already that you won’t be surprised if he can hear your heartbeat pumping frantically.

He was large and imposing, truly a terrifying sight right before you especially with his tattoos that trail and wrap all around his muscular thighs, yet you’re not nervous because he could hurt you.

Rather, you’re agitated because he’s so close, so within reach that if you step a little closer, you could easily find the warmth you’ve been dreaming of for so long.

You’re frustrated because you want him though you shouldn’t.

Just then, Sukuna caresses your cheek and pulls the both of you back in the tub with you above him, and him lazily grinning above you. You gasp, abashed, that your clothes were soaked to the brim and it stuck close to your damp skin until it took the shape of your silhouette. Sukuna, on the other hand, is completely unbothered as he eyes your pebbled nipples poking through the thin material of your nightgown and simply drags you forward on his thighs.

“S-Sukuna—”

“You really have no idea, do you?” he whispers lowly, his long claws carefully tracing down the sides of your jaw. “My innocent, little lamb...the reason I distance myself from you is because every waking day that you are right beside me, my self-restraint thins, and I’m not sure I can hold back a little longer from you taming me,” Sukuna’s dark eyes brims with something unreadable as he holds your gaze. The look he wears is beyond intense that he takes your breath away, literally, and you’re left gaping at him silently. “I push you away because I want you more than anything else, but I respect you and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You-you want me?”

“Clearly, little one, you’re inherently unaware of how captivating you are,” Sukuna says as if if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you shiver at his words – or from the cold water, you don’t really know. “Stop looking at me like you want me to kiss you. I may not stop once I get a taste of you. Like I said before – I won’t touch you unless you asked.”

You do remember him saying that from your first time together, but your head goes blank, and no words leave your lips even as you mouth nonsense.

Sukuna taps your lips. “Speak, little one. You need to use your big girl words.”

“Kiss me,” you vociferated in one breath, desperately clutching on your thighs. “Please.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to push you away as his eyes narrow into suspicion, but soon he’s tugging at your collar to bring you down for a heated kiss. Sukuna is tugging your robes down until your collarbones are exposed, his tongue and lips leaving yours to leave marks and love bites all over the patch of skin instead. You tug at his hair as you crane your neck to the side, succumbing to the undeniable pleasure his warmth and greediness consumes you with.

Grinding down on his groin, you notice he’s already hard. Hard for you, and this realization makes you kiss him back hungrily as you whimper above him.

Sukuna is feverishly sucking on your tongue and pawing at your breasts the next instant before the spell is immediately broken just as it happened. For before you could reciprocate the same amount of eagerness he kissed you with, Sukuna is already sliding you off of him until you’re on the other side of the tub, left staring at him wordlessly with his lips red and swollen.

“Not today, little one. I think that’s enough.”

You hear your heart shatter into pieces. Pride; it was about the only thing you had, but it seemed even that had been taken away from you.

“You really don’t want me.”

Your voice cracked as your eyes began to tear up.

“No, love, that’s not what I meant,” he groans into his hands, “Believe me, I’d spent enough nights sweaty and frustrated knowing I can’t ravish you and have those lush thighs around me already,” waiting for him to continue, Sukuna sighs and holds you closer, though he could only caress your knee right now that you’re wary of getting hurt again. “This is your first time, okay? I want to make it special for you – you’re not experiencing bliss with me if it happens impulsively with you barging in my bath.”

Something like hope lights up inside you.

“Y-you’ll really do that for me?”

“Tch, brat, don’t go all soft on me now. I wouldn’t suggest testing my patience even further,” he playfully flicks your forehead when you tried to kiss him again, but Sukuna is already tilting his cheek to other side before you could. You would’ve been heartbroken again that he’s refused you, but his words held more than reassurance – and so did his uncomfortably hard cock – that all previous insecurities vanished into thin air.

Sukuna grabs you by the waist to plant your feet on the ground outside the tub, carrying you as if you were nothing more than a ragdoll to him. “Now go and get changed. I’ll fuck you another time.”

“Don’t say it like that!”

“My deepest apologies, little one,” he commented sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, though his smile turned genuinely warm the last minute. “I’ll make love to you when you’re ready.”

He must’ve lied.

You’re annoyed because Sukuna is intentionally avoiding you and acting like you don’t exist. Pissed off, you go into a curse exorcising spree to get the King of Curses out of your mind, reminding yourself that he was vile like them and he didn’t deserve even a second of your time.

Although no matter how hard you tried, your mind still kept racing back to him even as you come back home, bloody and tired when you realize the temple is eerily quiet. Not a living soul could be found around, no servant fretted at your arrival and your husband most definitely did not lurk in the shadows like he usually did. The only sign the temple hadn’t been abandoned yet were the lines of candles trailing down the hall to your shared room with him, and you gasp as you see the petals decorating the bed and rose-scented candles lit everywhere.

Sukuna was nowhere to be seen.

But he was felt as he kisses your neck, his hands untying the knots of your yukata. You stiffen in reflex before relaxing as soon you recognize his scent. Behind you, Sukuna pauses, his lips still in the column of your neck.

“You’re upset.” He wasn’t asking; rather observing.

“Not anymore,” you mumble in response, although you weren’t entirely convinced even as you come closer to the bed, your husband trailing behind with his pinky looped to yours. “Did you do all this for me?”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

“I love it, thank you,” you hide your smile for him, not wanting him to see that it’s so easy to alleviate your anger to him. He has to earn your approval again, so you turn to him with a forced scowl and arms crossed against your chest. “But why were you ignoring me for days?”

You intended to look intimidating, but the King of Curses only laughed.

“You look cute when you’re mad. Plus, it made you want me more than you already do, didn’t it?” he chastised, the implications of his words making you pout in humiliation. Sukuna is quick to step closer to you, cupping your cheeks into his hand, and you hated how easily you leaned into his touch. Nevertheless, you turned away from him, using all your energy to muster your most serious ‘I’m not bothered’ face.

“Aw, don’t be shy, it’s written all over your face, little one,” he breathes on the shell of your ear, hands trailing down to lightly drape your clothes below your shoulders. Unable to hold it back, you end up shivering at his featherlike touches.

“It’s okay. I loved hearing your soft whimpers every time you touched yourself in the bath, thinking that I’m probably not around to hear, hm? You forget I sense everything,” his laugh is mocking yet laced with lust, “From the frantic singing of your heart, the way you tense up a little when I’m around, or the way those beautiful legs of yours clench together each time my robe is a little loosened,” Sukuna dips his nose right under your jaw where his tongue darts out to lick a flat stripe down your neck, and just like that, you’re breathlessly clutching on his white robes that are already unfastened. Damned tease.

“Even the smell of your arousal is enticing me to enrapture you right now, little one. I can practically hear the silent begging in that pretty little head of yours.”

You forgot how to breathe.

“B-but I’m dirty, I just finished exorcising curses.”

“Would it be comedic if I said I am aroused at the thought my wife could easily end me right here and now?” shaking your head at him, Sukuna smiles mysteriously. “But you won’t, would you? You need me too much for that,” he leans closer than he already was before, his lips just a breath away from yours. “Tell me, do you want me?”

“Yes,” you whispered breathily, “Please, Sukuna, touch me.”

“It’s my love to you.”

“Not Your Majesty?”

“Hmm, that is delightful to hear as well,” he says, “But let’s our drop our titles. For now, whatever happens between us is intimately between man and wife. Now go clean up, little one. I’ll be waiting for you once you’re ready.”

You waste no time into darting to the bath, scrubbing the blood and dirt on each nook and crevice of your body until you’re squeaky clean. You’re about to head back to bed when you quickly practice puckering your lips to make yourself look desirable, muttering hopefully flirty lines that would make your husband want you more before calling it quits from the embarrassment you caused upon yourself.

By the time you’ve completely dried and moisturized yourself to absolute perfection that you’re confident of yourself, you find Sukuna emptily staring into the ceilings. “Done already? Someone’s eager.”

You roll your eyes at him. Why did you like him again?

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“Gladly, little one,” he confides, patting his thighs to encourage you to climb onto him. Now that things were actually getting real and your endless dreams would soon become reality, your palms grow sweaty as you settle yourself onto his lap. “You tell me right away if I’m hurting you, you understand? One word and I’ll stop; though I doubt you’ll be in your right mind to want to stop once I’ve had my way with you.”

You don’t really understand much of what he’s saying anymore.

He’s kissing you so slowly, so passionately and you’re both undressing each other that nothing but desire and lust clouds your thoughts in that moment. You’re drunk on the sweet taste of him, his natural musky scent beyond intoxicating for your mortal self to handle. Too lost in the bliss of finally being intimate with him, you don’t realize Sukuna has already pushed your towel down until it pools at your waists. His sharp intake of breath is the only thing that pulls you back to reality as he greedily takes in each beautiful curve and dip of your body.

His stare is so fervid that you grow shy and cover yourself, where Sukuna quickly grips your wrist as a warning. “No. You do not hide yourself from me.”

“Then stop staring too much.”

“Is it a sin to appreciate divine beauty?” he tilts his head to the side and blinks at you innocently. “You are ethereal, my wife.”

Before you could be too flustered to respond, Sukuna fortunately saves you from the embarrassment by kissing you again, though it doesn’t last long before his mouth is trailing from your collarbone and down to your breasts. You mewl as Sukuna eagerly sucks on one breast, the other showered with attention from his rough, calloused palms. Meanwhile, you push his clothes away to expose his strong shoulders which you use as leverage because his ministrations make you feel like you’re losing control over your own body.

Rolling your hips on his erect cock, Sukuna groans through your skin, squeezing your breast hard enough that you can’t take it anymore right after he tweaks your nipple. “Love, please, I need you right now.”

“Patience, little one,” he reminds, “I need to prepare you well.”

“I’ve been waiting for months, Sukuna, I’m sure I’m more than ready.”

“Emotionally, sure, but physically?” he chuckles darkly, “Little one, do you not understand your nimble fingers cannot compare to my cock? I might hurt you if you’re not stretched out enough.”

“Then stop kissing me and start—” you’re cut off with a gasp, your nails sinking down harder into his skin the moment his fingers began to rub at your pussy. “Y-your claws—”

“I kept them for years, but I had to cut them just for you, little one. What do you have to say about that?”

“Thank you,” you offer with a breathy moan, head falling into his shoulder from the overwhelming yet welcomed intrusion. “Oh, Sukuna, it’s too good, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he bites the shell of your ear and tugs at the lobe, basically biting it between his teeth to distract you from another long and thick digit pushing past your walls. “One more?”

“O-oh!” his thumb has now joined the party by rubbing soothing circles on your clit, effortlessly pulling your lips aside with the rest of his digits to expose your sensitive bundles of nerves for him. Sukuna keeps his eyes on yours the whole time, watching and drinking in the face you make – pleasure written all over your features from the swollen lips, pupils blown wide, and desire pooling in swirls of curiosity and eagerness. It’s a face he never wants to forget; a face he wants to see more of that Sukuna eventually lays you down against the pillows, admiring how unreal you looked in that moment.

Hair splayed all over the pillow, legs spread wide open with his hands caressing your core, and a strong arm gripping his with small gasps accompanied by desperate calls for his name to do more, please you more – your words instantly translate into commands.

“You are so beautiful,” Sukuna praises rather angrily, “Never forget that. Each inch of you, fuck, you are the most dangerous mortal, you know that?”

You don’t have time to react before he’s going down on you and spreads your legs apart, keeping them pinned down to the bed. The stretch hurts but he easily soothes your pain by massaging your inner thighs, crawling down to kiss your ankles, then licking all the way up to your knee where he stops for a second, only to happily be on your sopping cunt the next moment. He’s peppering barely there kisses to your inner thighs just on your outer lips, his breath warm and teasing on your heat.

It feels like he intends to ruin you tonight.

“Sukuna, stop teasing!”

“What do you want me to do, little one?” he grins from between your legs, the vibrations of his chuckles resonating deep within your cunt that sporadically clenches right in front of his face that’s shamelessly imprinting your scent deep into his memory. “How can I make you feel good?”

“You know how!”

“You need to tell me so I know. I can’t read your mind.”

“Your mouth...”

Sukuna’s smile grows wider the longer you struggle to find your words, but exactly how in the world could you say such vulgar things out loud? He is far more patient tonight than any other day, however, that Sukuna props himself to his elbows to peer up at you innocently. “Where do you want my mouth and what should I do with it?”

Swallowing the rest of your pride, you finally utter: “T-taste me...down there.”

“Here?” he prods your clit, pulling a high-pitched gasp from you. Your husband’s smirk is nothing short of condescending just before he finally kisses your clit, sucking the bud into his mouth until you writhe before him. It takes minimal effort for someone of his strength to hold your legs in place, his grip just tight enough to be commanding. The thought of being completely in his mercy made your head spin in circles, your chest heaving up and down from the pleasure he was blessing yet torturing you with. “You’re so responsive, little one. I’m honoured I’m the one who gets to make you feel like this.”

“M-more, please, I need more.”

You expect him to tease you further, but your husband must’ve noticed that you’re too edged and decided to have pity on you. He doesn’t waste another second before he’s wrapping his lips around your pussy, treating it as if it were your own lips that always tasted like honey.

Sukuna is completely immersed in the act of pleasuring you with his tongue only, so much so that he’s silent aside from the little hums he lets out while you moan for him.

Unable to care about being too loud anymore (not that you needed to since Sukuna had made everyone go back home to give you both privacy) you find yourself throwing your head back, legs falling open wider to grant him deeper access to your most sensitive parts. Sukuna continues to massage your inner thighs and even drags the back of your knee to rest on his muscular back littered with battle scars and tattoos, the dark markings on his skin flexing with each movement. His eyes are closed and his nose is grazing against your swollen clit that had reddened already, your pussy lips opening up like a new world he had to explore, and explore he would.

Your hands find solace in his hair the shade of gentle sunsets that were often shared in lazy kisses and subtle touches, nails dragging across his scalp just enough to make your husband hiss right between your legs. Something begins to tighten in your belly as you grind your clit onto his face, too absorbed in the mind-numbing sensation of his tongue now poking against your entrance and the past barrier slowly blooming open to welcome him.

With shaking legs and a chest drenched in sweat, pebbled nipples further stimulated by the cold breeze drifting in from the windows, your eyes snap open as that rope snapped deep within your belly.

Your gaze shoots down below you to watch your husband ardently lapping your juices like a man starved. Now this wasn’t new to you – you’ve heard enough about the King of Curses and his bloodlust. Whispers of his thirst and desire to slay entire towns and even feast on mortals’ souls was enough to keep you at bay when you were still a young sorcerer, for it was already a blatant warning that Sukuna would feed on anything and anyone, that his hunger was quite something that couldn’t be satiated.

But seeing him unhinged and a slave to pleasing you has never felt more erotic that you ride out your orgasm, toes curling and legs trembling every now and then from the aftershocks of your high.

Slowly, Sukuna darts out his tongue one last time just to leave a teasing touch to your clit before he’s crawling right above you again. The ceiling is obscured by his large frame hovering over you, arms trapped between your head and his gallant member poking just between your thighs. You end up shivering under him as your husband regards you – with affection, pride, curiosity – gentle in comparison to his true nature in caressing your cheek, both of you unbothered by the slick that meets your skin.

“Are you okay?” he breathes out, watching your fucked out smile bloom into a felicitous grin.

“Perfect,” you mumble, although rather shyly. You’d seen him naked before, but never hard, and never with the intention that soon you’d truly be connected – in heart, in body, in mind, and in soul. The thought makes your heart skip a beat, your eyelids growing hooded as Sukuna absentmindedly traces patterns on the curve of your hip. “Sukuna...you’re perfect.”

Your husband laughs, the sound of his glee contagious that you’re chuckling with him as well. “Have you seen yourself, little one? I think I fall for you harder each day.”

His sudden confession brings about a silence in the room, but it wasn’t comfortable, and neither was it tense. If anything, it destroys any traces of previous hesitation and pent up anger that’s only been formed in the first place due to the fact he was Curse and you a sorcerer.

The nature of your relationship had been paradoxical to begin with, perhaps even beastly, but nothing was beastly about it now as you wrap an arm around his neck to bring him closer to you. And Sukuna was just that – the man, the Curse, the feared King whose simple mention of his name made mere mortals tremble – the same person that somehow understands your silence better than anyone. No words were needed when he could read your mind and knew his way around your heart a little too much, not once leaving his lips on yours as he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you before him. Both of your skins are hot and flushed, yet you’re greedily touching and pulling at one another, his large palms clawing at your ass to pry your pussy lips open while you drag your nails down his chest.

He grunts into your mouth; the sound deep and masculine that it vibrates all the way down to your core. You gasp into his mouth – your breath immediately swallowed by his tongue that dances with yours – once you feel him slip inside.

The stretch is unlike anything you’ve felt before.

You’ve fought and exorcised countless of curses that pain was no stranger to you at this point, but never had you felt so...alien to a sensation both tragic and addicting. Pulling away to breathe air back into your lungs, your forehead knocks with Sukuna until your noses are brushing against the others, mouth hanging open as your walls struggle to accommodate him.

“Oh, oh god,” you mewl above him, eyes wide open as you witness each inch of his cock disappearing from the motion of you swallowing his length whole. He was big; terrifyingly so, and you shake with fear that you wouldn’t be able to take him or that he might rip you apart. “Su-Sukuna—”

“You’re fine,” he reassures by pulling your cheeks back to him, your delicate face trapped between his rough hands. Although his eyes are dark with lust, there’s a tenderness behind them that placates you. “You can tell me to stop if it hurts. Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

There’s no lie or hesitation behind your voice. Sukuna watches your face carefully to detect any sign of discomfort, but you want this, want him, and the pleasure combined with the tolerable sting only makes you desire him even more. The mere fact that there had to be pain and sacrifice, that you had to place your whole trust in him before you could truly succumb to the pleasure and love that created light and hope in this world was enough for you to want to keep going.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, and Sukuna wipes away the frown on your face with the pads of his fingers.

He allows you to go at your own pace until you’re completely seated on his cock, the heated member throbbing so hard inside you that you think he’s poking and prodding right deep into a place where you could hold him close the most.

It’s too much and too good that for once, you let your walls crash down as you bury yourself in his shoulder. Sukuna holds you closer by pulling you right into his chest, large arms wrapped around your frame while your breasts tease the rugged and taut muscles of his body. Even the slightest movement of you adjusting yourself on his lap makes his cock graze against your bumpy walls that you’re both moaning left and right. As you struggle to make sense of the sensations bursting within you, Sukuna’s self restraint hangs dangerously by a piece of thread. You can tell by how he’s cupping your ass and lifting your body up effortlessly before he slides you back down on his thick pole, that single, simple gesture repeated over and over again along with him bringing his hips back up to meet your warmth sending a scorching heat all over your body.

“Love, that’s, fuck,” you curse incoherently, and upon hearing a profanity leave your otherwise innocent lips makes something snap inside your husband.

Sukuna is gripping onto your hips for dear life as he bounces you up and down on his cock, tilting his head back just to scrutinize your connected bodies. A thick ring of white cream surrounds the base of his cock until it slides down on his veiny cock, sounds of skin slapping against skin and the loud squelching of your pussy even more beautiful than the screams mortals have moments right before their death in his hands. But Sukuna be damned – you felt too good that this might as well have been his death.

“You feel so fucking good,” he praises through gritted teeth, easily manhandling you and throwing you back on the bed where he’s on you in a second. “Look at you, little one, taking my huge cock so well. It’s like you’re made just for me – you want to be with me, don’t you? I would please you, fuck you good every day, yes, fuck!”

Sukuna ended up hitting a spot that equated to uncharted territory, causing you to tighten around him with a sharp cry. “Oh, right there, right there!” you rub your clit for further stimulation, moaning louder when he hoists both your legs on his chest.

He presses your legs and hugs his around his arms, flipping it to the side until your feet are right beside his ears. Sukuna has gone completely feral – his pace and drive animalistic, growling like a predator consuming his prey before he softens, kissing your ankles just as he grips your legs to make them squish together. The sudden lack of space makes your pussy tighter and more sensitive for him that you’re fisting the sheets right beside you, too fucked out to even form a coherent sentence. You’re babbling mindlessly on how good he’s making you feel, completely limp and motionless under him from how deep he’s hitting.

“Please, please, please—” you cry out, reaching out just seconds away from your orgasm with the need to touch him. Sukuna gives in and lets go of your legs until they fall at your side, stretching you out further from when he leans forward to capture your lips in a kiss.

He’s caressing your cheeks and swipes a thumb over your tears, quite nearly folding your half. His balls are slapping against your ass the harder he thrusts inside you, but his hips are stuttering and he’s panting right beside your ear that you can tell he’s close. It prompts you to wiggle under him to wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him closer and clutching his scalp just to have him impossibly close, because even thinking about letting him go sounds too painful, especially now that he’s claimed you as his just as you’ve marked him yours.

“I worship you,” he blurts out with a few final thrusts that has you crumbling under him in a silent scream, your focus completely on his dark, passionate eyes as you came. Sukuna then laces his fingers through yours while he pumps himself inside you, your walls milking him of everything he’s got. “You are divine, my wife, you have bewitched me for eternity.”

“Sukuna,” you call out weakly, and he’s quick to litter kisses all over your face from your whimpers. “Sukuna-I-I—”

“Shh, I know, I know,” Sukuna places a finger on your lips, letting you calm down from that earth shattering orgasm he just gave you. He pulls his spent dick out a minute later and scoops up your cum that’s spilling out from your pussy lips, his gaze never leaving yours the whole while he sucks his fingers inside his mouth. He’s so dirty and erotic that you’re clenching around nothing once more, but he shakes his head with a low chuckle as if he can sense you want more. Sukuna kisses you just to transfer the cum mixed with spit right onto your tongue, gripping your jaw when your eyes widen at him. “Swallow it, little one. That’s just a taste of what I could give to you.”

You don’t know what pulled you to actually swallow it – it tastes bitter and even a little salty, though it had a bittersweet tinge of scent to it that you don’t mind, especially not when Sukuna just stares at you like you’re most his prized possession.

Sukuna is right by your side the next moment. He’s tamed the next moment, pure comfort and bliss from the way he’s tenderly running his fingers up and down the sides of your body like he’s memorizing the feel of you around him. You both don’t say anything as you place your cheek right above his chest, arms locked on his chest in a desperate cling, but neither does he want you to let go. Sukuna threads his fingers on your hair before you feel his lips caress the crown of your head, mumbling sweet nothings right as you’re welcoming sleep.

Until he taps your breast.

“Little one?”

“Yes?”

“We never had our honeymoon, do we?” he queries, and you twist your head to face him as your brows draw together in thought.

“No, I don’t think we did. I pushed you away from me on our first night together, remember?”

Sukuna’s eyes shone with mischief. “How could I forget? You tried to kill me right after our wedding,” both of you share a laugh at the memory, though there were no more harsh feelings or contempt shared, only love, and love only. Sukuna softens under your gaze as your chuckles tinker down to a giggle, your finger teasingly drawing circles on his chest as you bite your lip. And like always, Sukuna knows you just a little too well. “I know that look. What is it that you want, little one?”

“You.”

“Me?” he repeats with a dark chuckle that sends heat right down to your womanhood. “You already have me, little one, your wish has been granted a long time ago.”

Your face burns. “I mean, I want you. Again. One more.”

“One more?”

“Or maybe a lot more,” you pipe up, but Sukuna’s smirk is growing more and more devious that your former tenacity soon dwindles down into meekness. “O-only if you want to. You must be tired.”

“Little one, I’m the King of Curses, did you really think I would be tired from fucking my sweet little wife?” At his words, Sukuna tilts your chin until you’re left with no choice but to be held captive under his lust. He leans down to teasingly bite your bottom lip, and you’re already breathing hard as you feel his hands begin to trail down to your core that’s more than eager to take him all over again. “Like I said, I worship you, and I’m nothing but a bewitched man who would gladly fuck his wife as long as she asks.”

Safe to say, you couldn’t exorcise curses for quite some time.

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rebrandedbard · 3 years ago

Note

Good morning, I had an idea and I wanted to share (could be a prompt if you want): So, Jaskier definitely, absolutely wants to learn Geralts potions and which to give when. But they aren't labelled at all and you've got to discern by shapes and colours. I firmly believe Jaskier writes a little ditty for that and maybe it spreads or maybe Geralt wakes up after a hunt with vague memories of that song after Jaskier saved him...

Jessi you know exactly what to say to get a fic out of me. Invoke my musicality! Just for you, not one, but two songs Jaskier uses for Geralt's potions!

Witcher's Brew

wc - 2476

Geralt wakes up after a hunt gone wrong and finds himself patched up in bed. He waits for Jaskier to arrive and overhears him singing a strange song to himself as he fusses with Geralt's potion supplies.

Rabbit stew, warm and fresh from the pot. It was the first thing Geralt could remember upon waking. They’d had rabbit stew at midday, just before the hunt. He almost imagined he could taste it on his dry, cut lip, but the lingering bitter taste of White Raffard’s Decoction chased the last of the memory away. He could not recall taking any potions. In fact, he had trouble remembering what it was he’d been fighting. His head was vague, all the details swirling at the edges in a haze. Someone had been speaking to him, he thought. Was it the chanting of a kitchen maid, timing her baking with a prayer? Or was it a song?

A song.

Geralt sat up with a grunt. “Jaskier,” he called, voice rough and catching in his throat. He looked around the darkness of the room, but he was alone. He scented the air. Jaskier had been near in the last hour or so, his smell not yet faded. It tasted bitter on his tongue, like the decoction: bitter like the musk of fear. The tang of salt hung in the air as well. Tears. But there was more. From the table at his side came an earthy scent and he discovered a bowl of mushrooms upon it. Sewant mushrooms.

That’s right. They’d been in the caves. The vision of the beast rose to the forefront of his mind and he remembered that they’d been fighting not a wyvern as hired, but a slyzard. It had been a deadly miscalculation, for the beast could breathe fire over a great distance. Geralt felt the fresh burns on the back of his neck, smelled the poultice pasted there. He remembered pulling Jaskier behind cover. He’d not had the chance to see whether he’d been burned as well. There had been too much to distract him; he did not even know if he’d slain the beast.

There had been mushrooms in the cave. Someone had to have brought them. Jaskier would be foolish enough to return to the caves, even if the beast still lived. But for mushrooms? Geralt could not imagine why.

“Sewant from the sewer caves, crows’ eyes, fang of beasts; blood from all the nasty things, and myrtle pure as priests.”

Geralt turned to the sound of Jaskier’s singing beyond the door. It cracked open and there the bard stood, arms hidden beneath a mass of white flowers. He had, too, a leather pouch dangling from around his wrist. Unloading his burden upon the table, he flipped through the open bestiary, still singing under his breath. It was not his usual kind of song; it was lifeless, simple rhyme and meter without passion. He did not even glance Geralt’s way as he set to work, grinding ingredients together in a mortar.

“Mistletoe and mutagen, aloe leaf of wolf; green mold, han, and celandine, then in the flame engulf.”

Jaskier poured the concoction into a potion bottle and hurried to the fire. He bent to light it, cursing as the matches failed beneath his shaking hand. He cursed louder, his hand slipping again. His voice began to shake as he continued his chant.

“Remember Raffard’s recipe and count it by this rhyme; be ye neither quick nor slow to measure out the time. Once the brew has bubbled and its color turns to red, let cool and cork then brew again to raise him from—”

Jaskier’s voice caught in his throat as he failed to light the match once more. He gripped the potion bottle in his hand and wiped at his eyes, unable to finish the line. “To raise him—”

“From the dead,” Geralt concluded.

Jaskier whirled around, dropping the bottle upon the floor. It shattered, spilling its contents into the hearth and over his boots. But he didn’t pay it any mind. He ran to Geralt’s side and knelt before the bed. His hands were everywhere at once, prodding gently, examining him.

“Geralt,” he breathed. Then everything came out in one great rush, each new thought interrupting the last. “Oh fuck, I was—! You weren’t moving. You just dropped to the ground the minute your sword—! I had to carry you back, and you only had one vial left. I was so worried I wouldn’t be able to make more before …”

“One vial is enough,” Geralt said. He nodded toward the supplies on the table. “Is that White Raffard’s?” he asked, knowing it could be nothing else.

Jaskier nodded, silent.

“What was that song just now?”

Jaskier bit his lip, looking guilty. “I … didn’t meant to pry,” he murmured. “I promise never to share trade secrets but … I had to know how it was made. It’s one of your most important potions. If you couldn’t make one, and if we were ever in a situation where we couldn’t find a healer, I needed to know that I could save you. So I watched, and I wrote it to remember.”

“You wrote a song to remember how to brew a potion?” Geralt asked. He looked at the ingredients. They were all correct, and well-measured from the look of it. Jaskier had prepared three bottles, two still sat empty on the table. Before them, their ingredients lay in even piles, waiting to be ground in the mortar.

Jaskier took Geralt’s hand in his, pressing his forehead to it. “I can brew Raffard’s, White Honey, and Swallow. I know you need Swallow with Raffard’s, for the toxicity. And … if I ever brewed a faulty potion, I would have the Honey.”

“You know what potions to take,” Geralt said. It was less of a question, more an expression of awe. He’d never taught Jaskier about the potions, merely asking for them as needed if Jaskier were in reach to fetch them. And from that, Jaskier had learned what was needed when.

“I wrote a song for that, too. All of them: what they’re for, the ones to take before a battle, and the ones to take after.”

Geralt blinked.

“All of them?” he asked.

Jaskier looked up. He once more turned his head away in shame. Witchers’ potions were not for men to know, let alone theirs to brew. But he nodded. There was no denying it now.

“Sing it to me.”

The look on Jaskier’s face was nothing short of complete and total astonishment. Geralt never requested songs. “You … right now? You want me to sing the song?” Jaskier faltered.

When Geralt gestured toward the lute, Jaskier smiled.

“It hasn’t got music,” Jaskier said. “It isn’t meant to be sung, really. Not in that way at least.”

“But you could put it to music, I bet.”

Jaskier flushed. There was a bit of praise in there somewhere—an admission of skill. At Geralt’s request, he stood and fetched the lute. “You seem to be doing much better,” he said, sitting at his side on the bed.

“Raffard,” Geralt replied. “Are you in tune?”

Jaskier strummed the lute slowly, emphasizing each open note with pride. “Always am.”

“Sing, then.”

It only took a minute of experimental plucking before Jaskier had a set of chords prepared. He strummed them twice in succession, then began his song:

Before one fights vampiric beasts

Drink Black Blood down to spoil their feasts

And if there’s acid on the rise

First taking Bindweed would be wise

When fighting something swift and cruel

Down Blizzard quick before the duel

And if the brawl takes place at night

Take Cat to see in dimmest light

Geralt watched with open admiration as he listened. Jaskier had learned it all on his own. He’d made a careful study of the potions without any help, and what Geralt heard was thus far correct. There were trainees who’d not kept such simple things in order, even with proper instruction.

When fighting wraiths one cannot spy

De Vries’ Extract evolves the eye

And wolves will howl in perfect tune

When given life by the Full Moon

At the play on wolves, Geralt rolled his eyes. Even so, he was impressed. He’d only encountered two wraiths with Jaskier at his side. He would’ve had to pay very close attention to remember De Vries’ Extract’s purpose.

The bit about the wolves did not escape his notice either. There was a little crook in the corner of Jaskier’s mouth as he sang the words. Of course the potion made for jokes among the witchers of the school of the wolf, but they weren’t the only ones who used them.

But if one’s poisoned first, let’s say

Oriole takes the sting away

And when one bleeds, to stop the aches

A simple Kiss is all it takes

If long the task you must endure

Then take a dose of Maribor

And if one’s signs aren’t up to snuff

Then Petri’s Philter is the stuff

If one cannot avoid a hit

The vengeful Shrike takes care of it

And if you’ve time while under cover

Swallow aids a slow recover

If the battle leaves you tired

Tawny Owl may be required

And while weak one cannot parry

Thunderbolt will make foes wary

When hope is lost and at its end

White Raffard’s revives your friend

And if while brawling stunned you be

Then Willow is the remedy

For power in your every blow

Take Wolf to strike against your foe

And though it makes one wobble blind

With Wolverine their fate is signed

Remember this what else you do

White Gull is base for every brew

And when the potions start to strain

White Honey lets you start again

“You ended with White Honey,” Geralt remarked.

Jaskier lay a hand over the strings of his lute, quieting them. “It lets you start again, does it not? Once you swallow a dose of White Honey, it nullifies the effects of all potions,” he said in his most academic voice. “I thought it would be fitting to end the song there; it certainly helps to remember the purpose.”

“And you know how to brew it.”

“I find it ironic that there’s not a trace of honey in it whatsoever. In fact, far too many of your potions involve the use of vinegar, the very opposite of honey. Would it ruin the potions beyond use if I were to add a bit? A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, they say.”

Geralt smiled. He waved his hand, gesturing for Jaskier to come closer. He put a hand on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. “I think whatever potions you brew for me in the future will be made sweet enough by that sentiment,” he said. “So don’t fuck up my recipes, bard.”

Jaskier stammered, then laughed and batted Geralt’s face. “You cheeky thing! For a moment, I thought you actually intended to compliment me.”

“Didn’t you hear me the first time?” Geralt asked. “I did.”

“Not a compliment if you insult my cooking right after. Or—well, eh—brewing, as it were.”

“Alchemy.”

“Oh, yes, that’s much more flattering. Assistant Alchemist! I do like the sound of it.”

Geralt chuckled. “You’re my assistant now, are you?”

“But of course,” Jaskier replied, waving a dramatic arm in the air. “Always have been. I only needed a proper title.

“Then tell me, assistant: what became of the slyzard?”

Jaskier grinned and leaned over to grab the leather pouch from the table. He tossed it for show and caught it with one hand before emptying its contents. A collection of sharp, bloody teeth fell onto the sheets, some with bits of pink gum still attached to the yellow base.

“I believe Raffard’s called for fang of beasts in the list of ingredients,” he said. “And there was no other beast nearby to take from. Your sword was still lodged in its back; all I had to do was give it one last thrust through the heart.”

Jaskier winked and produced another bag from his doublet, heavy with coin. “Needed proof anyway,” he said, setting it alongside the teeth. “I needed some distraction while you were out, so I checked off the list: put you on the mend, finish the hunt, get the pay, replenish supplies.”

For a moment, his cocky expression faltered. “I was just finishing up when I got a little …” he trailed, bundling up the teeth once more. “Well, it’s easier to get lost in worrisome thoughts when doing quiet tasks like foraging. But you woke up, and now there’s nothing left to fear. I’ll have a new set of potions ready for you by the time you’re well enough to get out of bed.”

“… You … killed the slyzard?” Geralt said.

“You did most of it. I just gave it the last push. It barely twitched. Honestly, its innards made more of a fuss when I went to bottle them. I think you’ll be well stocked for some time.”

Jaskier killed the slyzard. He stooped to rummaging in its bleeding corpse for the most vile and disgusting of ingredients. For his potions. Which Jaskier brewed. Which he knew how to brew by merely observing, putting it all together in simple songs to remember. And still he’d found time to collect his pay.

“Fuck me,” Geralt said in wonder.

“Maybe once you’re healed,” Jaskier laughed, ears a touch pink.

“Then kiss me,” Geralt amended. He lay his hand over Jaskier’s arm, leaning forward, enraptured. It was a simple revelation and he wondered just how long the idea had been bubbling in the back of his brain. “Kiss me,” he said. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Jaskier blinked twice, his cheeks flushing as he took in the seriousness of Geralt’s tone. “Did … you put too much White Gull in that last batch of Raffard’s?”

Geralt shook his head, his eyes never leaving Jaskier’s. “Will you kiss me?” he asked again.

“I …”

“You killed a slyzard for me.”

“Yes.”

“And you memorized my potions. In case I needed them.”

Jaskier nodded.

“You love me,” Geralt concluded. His heart gave a leap at the notion. Yes. Yes, this was something he never knew he wanted. No, not wanted—this was something he needed. If all that didn’t add up to love, he didn’t know what would. It was such a simple thing, and he was a very simple man in every meaning of the word.

“Love me, Jaskier,” he said. “Love me and kiss me, please.”

But Jaskier already did. And before the final plea could escape Geralt’s lips, Jaskier did.

I’m going to take care of you, Geralt thought. He would take care of Jaskier just as Jaskier had always taken care of him. Good care.

“I do love you,” Geralt corrected.

Jaskier chuckled. “Don’t need to think about it?”

“I don’t think I ever really did.”

#asks #my fic #drabbles #witcher #the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #you know i wish that i had jessi's tag #actually let's tag this as a ficlet too it's a bit longer than usual #ficlet

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yesimwriting · 4 years ago

Text

The Needs of Pain

A/n as promised,,, here is my gift to you bc I finished ap gov today :))

The darkling x heartrender!reader story based on the whole ‘no one but me can hurt you’ thing :))

Warnings: sexual innuendos,, attempts to sexualize pain if you squint, kinda lemon-y

I kinda want to write a smutty part 2 let’s see lol

Summary: after a training injury, Kirigan reveals how he views the dynamic of your relationship and figures out how to best help you work through the pian

In an odd way, the most painful part of my injury had been the wound on my pride, not my shoulder. Though the pain that begins beneath my collarbone and continues down my left shoulder is not exactly pleasant. I can’t bring myself to pity myself too much as I stare at the extent of my burns. There’s a war going on. People die, people lose loved ones, I have to tolerate pain for an hour or two before a healer can be sent to be.

I told Genya I’d be fine in the medical wing, but she insisted that I wait for a healer to be sent to me. The people here look up to me, if news of my injury got out, especially considering it’s a training wound, morale would take a blow we can’t currently afford. Genya had looked relatively sympathetic when she told me that many healers were occupied considering how difficult training had been and I had told her I could bear the weight.

Now, in my room, staring at the basin full of water, I’m starting to regret my desire to be self sacrificing. I dip the towel in the water, squeezing out the excess before daring to dab the fabric on the outer edge of the wound. The feeling is fire against my skin all over again. An instinctual curse leaves me as I drop the towel on the counter that surrounds the basin.

Arthur hadn’t meant it. I can still hear the frantic apologies tumbling from his full lips. He should have been more focused on the task at hand, he should have never stopped to look at me, at the way I could control so many living things at once. In some odd sense, his distraction had been a compliment. Many of the girls here would sell anything to have Arthur’s attention, even if it resulted in such a careless mistake.

I grimace, picking up the towel and preparing to start again. I should at least clean it before the healers have to deal with both a physical injury and an infection. The sound of my door flying open and then shutting angrily is enough of a distraction for me to accidentally dab the towel against my skin too harshly. I curse again, turning my head towards the bathroom door. Did Genya exaggerate the severity of my wound? Are the healers that desperate to get to me?

I turn on my toes, towel forgotten by the basen full of water as I approach the door that connects my room with the bathroom. “I’m--” Words meant to calm a frantic healer stick to the back of my throat as soon as I register all the black in the room. General Kirigan. Great. He no doubt heard about my injury after prying it from Genya and now he’s here to scold me for the childishness of it all. To be injured because a boy and I just couldn’t help ‘make eyes at each other’. All he does is insult my refusal to become bitter just because I was born possessing power.

“You’re what?” His words are a different level of callous, darker than the shadows he creates with the will of his mind alone. “An idiot that let herself be sent back to her room instead of demanding to see a healer?”

That’s an odd thing for him to focus his anger on. At least it’s not fully directed at me. On instinct, I half turn, attempting to hide my injury from his piercing eyes. My instinct tells me he should never see me so mortal. “Genya recommended it,” my words are determined yet calm, “It’s such a small injury it isn’t worth risking everyone’s morale. A healer will come here when one is available.”

His face tightens in what must be some kind of disgusted disbelief. “Foolish girl--have you no instinct for preservation?”

Every decision I’ve made since being injured made sense before he spoke to me. The fierceness of his voice leaves my face warmer than it was a moment ago and reminds me of the stem of my dislike for him. General Kirigan speaks and I am left a clumsy child. “Some things are more important than one’s self.” I expect he’ll turn that into something else to mock or belittle about me. “And it’s not a grave injury it’s barely--”

The distance between us seemed so great less than a second ago, but he’s closed it so quickly, grabbing my left wrist and extending my arm forward so that I can’t hide anything from him. “You’re burned.” There’s the slightest bit of surprise coloring his words along with something else I can’t interpret. “How did you get burned?”

Kirigan doesn’t know. My stomach knots, anticipating embarrassment. “Training incident--I was standing too close to an Inferni.”

His grip on my arm tightens. I grimace as he pulls me forward with no regard for my injury. “Who?” The voracious way he says the word leaves my thoughts trembling. He is a void of darkness, starving for a victim to snuff the light out of.

When my thoughts settle, I cannot bring myself to tell him the truth. “I didn’t see, I was distracted by the burning.” I exhale slowly, desperate to escape the flames behind his eyes the way I could not escape the fire of earlier. “It doesn’t matter, I’ve been injured worse in training.” His hold on my arm doesn’t loosen, I glance down at his hand, his firm grip on me somehow worse than the burn. “You’ve injured me worse in training.”

“I may push you, exhaust you, and leave you mad--but I have never done anything that comes close to--that!” The last of his words carry themselves louder than the rest.

If the skin of my shoulder wasn’t so sensitive I’d try fighting his tightening grasp. The accusation on my part had been a little much, but it was meant to serve as a reminder that he’s not one to care about my comfort or well being. “Why does it matter?” I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze. “You’ve never cared about any of my injuries before.”

Kirigan releases my arm in a stiff trance, raising his hand to brush his thumb down my cheek. The contact is reminiscent of an extremely different moment. “The first night here you only let a few tears escape you when you were convinced that no one could see them. Do you remember how I turned and wordlessly wiped them away?” His gesture had not been comforting then and it isn’t comforting now. He never wanted to comfort me, he wanted to assert some strange power over me. “I let those tears fall because they were because of me and I knew it was for the best.” I say nothing, letting his thumb ghost tears that will not come. “The moment I discovered you, what you could be, you became mine.”

“I am no one’s.” The reaction is instinctual, a pride my mother instilled in me. My voice is too loud, too brash. “I am my own.”

I brace myself for his anger, but all I receive is the slight relaxation of his lips. “It’s things like that give you so much potential in other ways.” His voice is a jagged rock caressing my skin, not minding the scrapes it leaves behind. “You’re a fair plaything, as well as useful.”

He’s speaking so gently his voice borders on vulnerable. Something in me warms, but I can’t tell why. I know that Kirigan finds joy in my discomfort--why else would he belittle me so often? “The healer will be here soon.”

“Yes,” he makes no move to leave, instead Kirigan grabs my wrist again, forcing me to turn so that he can analyze the extent of my burn, “Which is why I will ask you again…” I try to catch his gaze, but his stone stare is focused on my burned shoulder entirely. “Who did this?”

“I told you.” He can never know. “It was a training accident.”

“And someone is responsible.”

I let out a breath, tired of feeling so incomplete. I just want to be healed and go to sleep. “Why does it matter?” His fingers trail up my arm patiently, my body betrays me by shivering. “Accidents happen, you’ve put me in more risk than--”

“I’ve always intended to break you one way or another,” his voice is more supple than it’s ever been before, “Your goodness is too tempting to not tarnish.” He turns my wrist over easily, ignoring my slight wince. “But if someone else were to do it…” Kirigan trails off, expression tightening in a way I can’t read, “I don’t let others break my play things.”

Some strange resolve in my chest cracks at that. “Kirigan--”

“Who are you protecting?” He moves his free hand, placing it without reservation on my shoulder. “Not telling me will only make it worse.”

Thoughts of Arthur paying for such a small mistake leaves my stomach rolling in guilt. “Make what worse?”

His expression tightens again. I wait for some kind of rebuke. Kirigan’s lips part as if he expects to criticize my naivety, but instead of speaking he turns sharply. He doesn't release his grip on my wrist as he leads me into my bathroom.

“What are you doing?”

Kirigan ignores my surprise, releasing me to pick up the towel I was so quick to abandon. “If you’re too good to take a healer from someone, you should at least avoid infection.”

“I’m not an idiot, I was cleaning it.” The sharpness of my tone is ignored, Kirigan simply places one hand on my forearm to keep me in place. “Wha--”

He brushes his thumb over my pulse gently in an effective attempt to silence me. I part my lips in hopes of protesting, but something odd reflects across his eyes. It must be some trick of the light because his expression seems...hesitant. Maybe even concerned. And then cool fabric is pressed into my burn. I bite my tongue so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t bleed.

“Saints.”

His expression shifts to that of almost amusement. “I think I’d like to hear you curse in a,” he exhales softly, fingertips trailing up my forearm, “Slightly different scenario.”

The shock of such a bold innuendo clears my mind from thoughts of pain. But the most startling thing is that the innuendo isn’t entirely unwanted. In the wake of my surprise, he presses the wet towel into my wound again. I fight against a grimace, but that doesn’t go unnoticed by Kirigan. Instead of mentioning it, his free arm touches my uninjured shoulder. For the first time since he’s come here I’m aware of how improper my attire is. I changed out of my starched kefta and into a silk nightgown in order to leave my shoulder unbothered. Genya had helped me change, bearing all of my grimacing and pained curses.

I should push him off of me. Kirigan can get away with a lot because of his status, but I by no means have to allow something like this. I should not feel shy, I should not be embarrassed. He’s the one that’s out of line. I look up into his eyes, prepared to yell at him for being so out of line. But when I meet his eyes, I see something so un-monstrous I am left breathless. There’s a gentleness to the way he tilts his head downwards, eyes never leaving mine. Is he asking for permission? Permission to--to what? I stay frozen as his lips brush against the unmarred side of my collarbone. His touch is almost enough to make me forget pain ever existed. He pulls away enough that I can feel his breath against the base of my neck. Thoughts I’d never dare speak are banished as the towel presses against my skin again. My face cringes immediately, but he’s quick to press his lips to the base of my neck, lingering kisses melting into my skin.

“I thought you said you were fine.” His chiding is half-hearted, whispered between two brief kisses against my bare ski.

He dabs the towel on the burn again, but before I can think to complain, his lips are against my skin again. This time, his lips part slightly allowing his teeth to graze over my pulse. Kirigan pulls away slightly, expression hardening, “I’m almost sorry about this part.” His words leave him in a whisper as influential as sin.

“What part?” My voice feels foreign in my throat.

Kirigan doesn’t reply, but then I feel the sharpest pain yet. The towel is cleaning the worst of the burn, the ruined patch of skin that will never recover without supernatural intervention. The gasp I let out is that of a bird with shattered wings. A cry forms in the base of my throat, but before it can leave me, Kirigan’s teeth bite into the skin above my pulse. The pained sound is reduced by my shock, twisting in an odd combination of some kind of pained sound and something dangerously close to a moan.

He releases me with one last soft brush of his lips, straightening his back and retracting the towel. “There.” Kirigan drops the towel onto the bathroom counter. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

I can still feel the ghost of his lips, tongue, and teeth against my skin. I understand now. Each kiss had been a way to distract me, to lessen the pain. Something odd swells in my chest as I try to will my eyes to stop watering in pain.

Kirigan presses his lips together, pressing his hand against my cheek again. His thumb brushes the few stray tears that escape me. “Don’t cry,” his tone is pure velvet, “I won’t tolerate tears in your eyes caused by anyone else.” He tilts his head oddly, hand sliding down my cheek before gripping my jaw, “I can provide reason for your tears if you’d like.”

Inhaling deeply, I continue to stare at him. Today has been so sudden. He’s flirted with me through strangely sexual insults and threats before, but never has he been so forward about it.

“I’m fine,” I force my voice to remain clear. He nods once. A soft rap at my door has me turning away from him. “The healer--I shoul--”

“Come in,” he calls, voice clear and leaving no room for argument.

My eyes widen. To be caught with him here could be detrimental for my reputation. Kirigan pulls away, something sharp playing at his features, something almost humorous.

He leaves the bathroom like this is his own room. “Her wound is clean, work quickly.” I walk out of the bathroom in a strange trance. Kirigan’s gaze lands on me as I enter the main part of my room, “I need her at her full strength for what I have planned.”

There’s a heaviness to his words, a weight that tells me he means more than what his words imply. Goosebumps erupt across my skin as I try to banish the thoughts of his mouth against my skin between inflictions of pain, blending together to create the most intense sense of fight or flight I’ve ever experienced.

Kirigan begins to approach the door to my room. “I’ll be checking on her later.”

People that asked to be tagged in this/expressed interest:

@luminous-99 @voyevoda-thejoy @voidmalfoy @i-padfootblack-things @all-art-is-quite-useless @buckverse @mandowh0re @uhanddreag

@we-love-our-bandz

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sunatooru · 3 years ago

Note

hi hello can i request a scenario/drabble for tsukishima, kuroo, oikawa, and akaashi with a fem!so who fainted during their heated argument? their argument would be about s/o being clingy and needy, and always talking and being noisy; turns out the reason she fainted was because of the fever she had early in the morning but didn't tell them about it in order not to be a 'bother' or 'nuisance'... then her fever got really worse during the argument and faints. *cue their boyfriends feeling like shit for all the rude things they said*

i am in need of some angst🪆

Sorry it took so long (I’ve had this since March 😭) but I hope it fills your angst need x

Warning: angst/comfort, gn!Reader, post Timeskip spoilers …are they dramatic?Yes

Tsukishima

It was rare you got to spend time with your boyfriend. Especially as he juggled working and playing volleyball. You wouldn’t miss the chance to be with him for a whole day, even if you woke up feeling like your head was being hammered.

You stayed wrapped around his arm, happily joining him on the sofa. You move to wrap your arms around his torso but he pushes your attempt away. You blink at him in confusion and try again, but fail when he stops you once more.

“Keiii, I want to cuddle..” you pout and he scoffs.

“What’s wrong with you? I finally get a day to relax and instead, I have you clinging to me and being annoying.” He glares at you, making you pull back and your throat tighten.

“I-“ you get cut off

“You what? You’re always trying to push yourself on me. It’s suffocating!” He gets up and walks towards the bedroom, you hot on his heels.

“Kei, can you please be a little quieter? All I want is to spend some time with you…you’re always so busy…” you defend but he kisses his teeth.

“Exactly. I’m always busy, so can you just let me chill out? I don’t need you whining in my ear and having you on me all the time! God, it’s like you need to annoy me!” He shouts at you.

You swallow harshly. Your chest feeling tight as his words ring in your ear. Your head pounding as you feel yourself heat up.

“Kei…I-I don’t…” you try to reach for him but he moves.

“Did you not just hear what I s- hey..hey!” You feel yourself lean forward as your eyes close.

You wake up when you feel something cool on your forehead, opening your eyes slowly to see Kei next to you.

“Kei…”

“Are you okay? You just fainted out of nowhere…why…and I said all those thing-“ you grab his hand.

“I wasn’t feeling well in the morning…I tried to push it away to spend time with you…” he looks at you guiltily, sighing and cupping your hands.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said. You’re not suffocating…everyday I come home, I can’t wait to see you. I don’t know why I said that…I’ve just been so overwhelmed and I took it out on you. I’m sorry baby. ” He confesses.

“I love you so much…I don’t even deserve you.” He whispers, biting his tongue as he looks at you.

“Hmm, I love you too…it’s okay. Can you just hold me, please.” You give him a small smile and he wraps you around him.

Kuroo

It’s that time of year where deadlines need to be met. You watch him scribble on papers and pull at his hair. You could see how tense he was and decided to bring him something hot to sip on.

“Tetsu, you need a break.” You slowly make your way into the room, carrying a hot mug and small snack.

“Can’t. Got to finish finalising the contract.” He informs, crossing out lines and writing again.

You huff and approach him, struggling to find a place to set the tray due to his messy desk.

“Come on. You need to atleast drink something, you’ve been at it for hours now. “ you press, causing him to clench his jaw.

He slams his pen against the desk, startling you before he faces you.

“I just said I need to finish this contract. Of course I’ve been working on it for hours. It’s important. You’ve been coming in and out of the room and disturbing me! I’m busy trying to do my job and you can’t even leave me alone for a few hours? Stop being so clingy all the time!” He fumes, eyes glaring at you as he starts to stand up.

You feel you mouth go dry as his words echo, your vision starting to fade as he finally stands, a rush taking over that you drop the tray. A loud smash of the mug rings in your ear.

“Are you serious- babe! What’s- babe!” Is the last thing you hear before your vision goes black.

You stir when you feel movement besides you. Slowly opening your eyes to see his leg bouncing nervously. He notices you looking and instantly grabs your hand.

“Have you not been eating? Were you waiting for me? Fuck! You fainted, I- what happened?” He rambles, eyes filled with regret.

“I felt a fever in the morning but I didn’t want to tell you because I knew how important your contract was.” You mumble, avoiding his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, babe. I was so stressed and occupied with the deal that I forgot about you and said so many regrettable things. Please, I didn’t mean anything I said. You’re not clingy. I love that you’re always watching over me. I promise, I’ll take more care. Of you and me.” He apologises, bring your hand up to kiss it.

“Here drink this.” He hands you a mug, your eyes widening as your remember the one you dropped.

“I cleaned it, don’t worry. I’m sorry. Let’s just get you feeling better, okay. The contract can wait. You’re more important.” You give him a small smile and nod.

He stays besides you until you persuade him you’re better. He kisses and hugs you until you’re both laughing like before.

Oikawa

You always told each other where you were going before leaving. It was something you did for safety. Yet, recently he’d been leaving before you wake up and coming home late. You reasoned it was probably for the upcoming game. The game that would makes his dream come true. But it did hurt that that one routine had started to break.

You had woken up to your head pounding. Your body feeling hotter than usual and the bed empty for another morning. You attempt to shake it off and go on with the day.

You’re surprised when the door open around midday and see Tooru drop his bag.

“Tooru! You’re home!” You run up to hug him but he stops you.

“Sorry, I’m just really sweaty right now.” He kisses your forehead and runs towards the bathroom.

You smile to yourself, quickly fixing lunch, in hopes you would both enjoy together. But instead, you hear him run down and reach for the door again.

“Tooru, where are you going?” You stop him, confusion on your face.

“Ah I just need to go out again. You know the game and practice.” He states grabbing his bag.

“But you just got home. Look, I made you lunch too. You can practice tomorrow. I barely see you recently! You don’t even tell when you’re leaving…” you shout.

“No! I need to go. I need to practice more. I can’t be with you all the time, every day. You’re so needy. Can’t you see how important this is for me? What? I can’t even leave my own house without telling you?” He yells in frustration.

“That’s not the problem. You- you’re not even caring about your health. I just want to make sure you’re okay!” You feel yourself burn up again.

You get closer to him, hands shivering as you feel weak.

“Listen I’m going to training! Don’t wait-“ he’s walking out the door but you reach for him, collapsing against his back.

You hear mumbling and groan as you open your eyes.

“Tooru…” you call out and he’s there in a heartbeat.

“Do you know how high your temperature was? You were burning up! And then you fainted and I-I didn’t know what happening and god if anything happened to you I would never forgive myself.” He cries, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I’m okay..” you whisper but he shakes his head.

“No you’re not. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” He says, hurt.

“I don’t want to me a nuisance…and you haven’t really been here so I tried to shake off in the morning.” You reply.

“Since morning… please forgive me, baby. Please. I know I’ve been neglecting you and if I was here then you wouldn’t be feeling like this. I’m sorry for what I said. I know i can’t take it back but I wish I could, because it’s not true. You’re not needy. I’m just an idiot who keeps forgetting to appreciate you. Baby, I’m sorry for hurting you.” He sniffles, sitting next to you and pulling you into him.

“Tooru, you’ll get sick too.” You stress but he holds you tighter.

“Just a few more minutes. I’ve missed you too. I promise I won’t leave you and take care of you. Forever.” He kisses you deeply.

Akaashi

The best way you decided to get rid of the fever you woke up with, was to distract yourself doing anything else. You organised yourself desk, bed and even laundry. You could feel yourself getting warmer again and decide to find your boyfriend.

He’s in his study carefully editing a new clients work. He’s usually calm and collected but he’s been on edge due to the pressure from his boss. You watch him take off his glasses and rub his tired eyes. You sigh and walk in.

“Hi darling!” You say cheerfully, only to get a less enthusiastic response.

“You’ve been stuck to the desk the whole day. Come on, talk to me a bit. Think of it as a little break.” You wrap your arms around him from behind.

“I’m almost done. We can talk after.” He whispers.

“Keijiii, I’m so bored please. Plus you need to take some rest. Let’s just talk about something, like I don’t know, where we should travel to? Or maybe anything interesting that happened at work? Come on, I want to spend time with -“ you’re cut off by his stern voice.

“Gosh, why are you so talkative? I’m trying to focus on something and you keep talking and being noisy after I said we can talk later. It’s like you’re trying to annoy me on purpose!” He scrunches his fists and huffs.

“I-I’m just trying to look out for you. You know you need a break too. Don’t yell at me! Sorry I’m so talkative and trying to engage with my boyfriend, who clearly thinks I’m annoying.” You choke out, feeling a little woozy as you start to leave.

“Love, wait! I didn’t mean it…”

“Whatever…I should’ve just stayed in bed-“ you feel your eyes getting heavy, and your knees feeling weak.

“Y/n!”

You wake up a few minutes later to him wiping your face softly. You try to get up but he stops you.

“Easy, let me help.” You can hear the guilt in his voice as he sets your pillow.

“I’m sorry for shouting at you. I let my frustrations take over and put it on you. I want you to know that, I didn’t mean what I said. I should’ve paid more attention and seen you weren’t feeling well.” He fidgets with his hands, scared to look at you.

“Your words hurt, Keiji. Even if you were frustrated, just please take some breaks. You’re going to burnout if you don’t.” You cup his hands and he finally looks up.

“I know. I know, I’ll do better and listen to you. How do you feel?” He presses his hands to both your foreheads.

“Better now that you’re here.”

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dreamingofaizawa · 4 years ago

Text

Obedient (Rewritten)

Soft! Yandere! Erasermic x Chubby! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

You must be 18 years old or older to participate in this reading. If you are not, please remove yourself from the line and find another piece. Thank you.

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, implied drugging, kidnapping, reader is way too fucking calm with the situation, Stockholm Syndrome, BDSM themes, a collar, body worship, the word Daddy once, smut, double penetration (diff. holes), anal, unprotected sex, overstimulation, aftercare.

Word Count: 6.6 k

Author's Note: Alright. I've been wanting to rewrite this for a while now. Obedient was the very first fic I'd ever written and posted back in September, and my writing has changed A LOT since then. Reading the original, I realized there's a lot that I can change and tweak, and a lot that wasn't very clearly or well written (in my opinion). So, here it is!

You can find the original here.

Enjoy~

“Happy birthday to me.” The words tumble loosely from your lips on a heaved breath, your fingers curled lazily around a cold glass of whiskey.

It isn’t a rare occurrence to see you perched atop a stool at the edge of the bar, nursing your third glass at 2am on a Friday night. Or rather Saturday morning. It’s one of the only places you can find solace, away from nosy coworkers and nosier acquaintances. The loneliness is soberingly blissful. You never cared much for social interaction.

At this point the bar is emptying, only a handful of bodies sticking around in the early hours. In the reflections of the rows of glass liquor bottles you see them again. Two lanky figures sitting in the corner booth at the back of the establishment. Any normal person would see them and think nothing. But you know better. When you first walked into the bar six months ago they were in that exact spot, and every time afterward they’d be there when you walked in and stayed after you left.

You, being observant as you are, always watched everything from your spot at the bar, the slightly warped images in the glass serving as your eyes for the night. It didn’t take long for you to figure the two were watching you every time you stepped inside. The blonde one always sat with his back to you, and his head would occasionally turn in the reflection. You’d alternate seats to make sure you weren’t imagining things, but it only confirmed what you’d suspected.

Not that you cared enough to do anything about it.

As long as they keep their distance you’re perfectly content letting them look. And they did keep their distance. They’d never even come within 5 feet of you, seemingly happy with just lingering glances. Of course, tonight would be a different story.

You watch as their glassy reflections stand up, the distance between you and them shrinking with each of their long strides. You let your eyes fall to the amber liquid in your hands, praying they’d only pass you by on their way out. Two sets of footsteps approached, two bodies popped up on either side of you, and a deep, silky smooth voice sounded on your right.

“Mind if we take a seat?” A glance to your right revealed a rugged, yet handsome man peering down at you with his deep, tired onyx eyes. Long raven hair spilled over his shoulders, framing his chiseled jaw peppered with barely tamed scruff and a scar curved along his cheekbone. You turn to look at his friend, long blonde hair pulled up into a high bun and hypnotic green eyes focused on you behind orange tinted sunglasses despite being indoors past midnight. He is handsome as well, a small mustache on his smiling lips, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline drawing you in.

You couldn’t help but feel they look familiar, somehow. You’d seen their faces before, somewhere, but you pushed that to the back of your mind for now.

It wouldn’t hurt to let them sit with you, right? They seem friendly enough, and it’s better to entertain them in case things go south should you reject their request. With a small, tired smile, you nod.

“Sure thing, fellas.” They both plop down on either side of you and the blonde immediately gets talking.

“So what’s the occasion, little listener?” Two thoughts came to mind. One, how did he know there was any occasion, two, what kind of pet name is ‘little listener’? Your confusion must have shown on your face, because the raven haired man spoke up.

“You’re pretty dolled up for a night at the bar, kitten.” Ah. So they had been watching you. You aren’t wearing anything that would normally be considered ‘dolled up’. Your tan sweater and black skirt are relatively plain, and the platform boots you’re wearing accompanied by your thigh-high socks are something you’re experimenting with.

But usually you entered the bar with a white button-up and black slacks from your job as a waitress. Today you had time to go home and pamper yourself a bit before heading to your usual drinking spot. Evidently, they noticed. You bring your glass up to your lips and gulp down the remaining liquid before entertaining the question.

“Nothing special. Call it a birthday party.” And hey, you mean it when you say it isn’t special. Your birthday only marks yet another routine year on this earth. The blonde nudges your shoulder with his own.

“I’d say that’s pretty special, sunshine!” The alcohol must be affecting you, because you chuckle a bit at his enthusiasm.

“Just another year gone by, you know?” You’re never this talkative sober. The man on your right rapped his knuckles on the bartop, the barkeep making his way over with a tired smile.

“One more glass for this pretty kitty here.” The name had your eyebrows raising.

“This one’s on me.” As the fresh glass was sat on the bartop you scoffed quietly.

“Kitty?” A deep hum came from the man.

“Well how would you describe yourself, kitten?” Somewhere in your muddled brain you warned yourself not to be self-deprecating on your 25th birthday. You didn’t listen.

“Definitely not feline. I’m short and chunky and the only thing cat-like about me is my posture and eyeliner,” you stated, matter-of-factly. As a waitress at an esteemed high-end restaurant, you had to learn to be quick on your feet, agile, and most importantly, poised. A hum comes from the blonde, a muttered ‘pretty and humble’ floating on his breath. You force a chuckle at the statement.

“Pretty is also a word I wouldn’t use to describe myself.” A short silence falls between the three of you, and you take the time to study their faces. Where had you seen them before? You’re certain if you’d met them before you’d remember them, you don’t tend to forget attractive people.

They’re oddly patient as they watch the cogs in your brain turn, your eyes taking in every detail of every feature. Your breath caught and your eyes went wide when you’d finally placed their faces.

“Present Mic and Eraserhead. You’re pro heroes.” The words are quiet, nearly imperceptible as you breathe them, but they’re close enough to hear. Present Mic beams at the recognition.

“In the flesh, sunshine. But we’d prefer you use our names.” Eraserhead leans away and sticks a hand out for a handshake.

“Shouta Aizawa.” You shake his hand and turn to the blonde, who similarly has his hand held out.

“Hizashi Yamada.” You introduce yourself, a bit shaky and only slightly starstruck. What in the world are two pro heroes doing talking to you? As you regain your composure you excuse yourself to the restroom. You weren’t prepared to talk to heroes tonight. A glance in the mirror has you sobering yourself, rationalizing their strange behavior. These two are pro heroes. They were clearly only worried about your safety, a woman all alone in a bar till the earliest hours of the morning. ‘That’s why they were watching me’, you muse. You quickly fix yourself, then step back out to the two heroes.

The three of you pass another hour of time before you decide it’s time for you to head home. They offer to give you a lift, but you politely decline. You can't intrude on them any more than you already had. Hizashi insists otherwise.

“Please Sunshine? If something were to happen to you we’d never forgive ourselves!” It made sense to you. They’re pro heroes after all, it’s in their nature to worry. So you oblige to ease their anxieties.

Since Shouta hadn’t touched any alcohol, he’s driving, and you punch your address into the GPS system of their very expensive looking car. As you sit back, Hizashi holds a bottle over his head.

“Water?” You thank him and drain the bottle, realizing you’re a bit more dehydrated than you initially thought. In your semi-drunk haze you fail to notice that the bottle had already been opened, and you miss Shouta’s eyes watching you down the beverage through the rearview mirror.

It’s only five minutes later you feel drowsy, your head lolling to the side and eyelids drooping. You don’t quite register the question Hizashi asks you, and when you don’t answer he turns around to look at you.

“You seem tired, Sunshine. Take a nap, we’ll wake you up when we get there.” Your exhaustion takes hold over any rational thoughts, and with a sleepy nod, you stretch out over the backseat and let your mind slip into unconsciousness, blissfully unaware you’ll never see your apartment again.

The first thing you notice as you wake up is how stiff and sore your muscles are. It takes you a moment to realize you aren’t in your clothes from last night, nor are you in your own bed. Your eyes snap open and you sit up, taking in the unfamiliar room. With a curse under your breath you scour your memory for anything, checking if you’d gone home with anyone or gotten yourself in a tight situation. The last thing you remember is being driven home by the two pros, then passing out in their backseat.

Questions began forming in your mind. ‘Where am I? How did I get here? Where had the two heroes gone?’ In an attempt to think clearer, you try crossing your legs, but your ankle is stopped short by something heavy. Throwing off the blanket, a thick metal cuff glinted in the light of the room, an equally thick chain leading somewhere over the side of the bed.

When your breathing begins to quicken, you settle your mind, refusing to panic. Willing yourself to relax, you begin to think about how you can get out of this situation. ‘Today should be Saturday. Assuming this room is part of a house, someone would most likely still be here’. With a small breath, you speak, hopefully loud enough for someone to hear you.

“H-hello? Is someone there?” It only takes a few seconds for footsteps to reach your ears, and the door opens to the last person you’re expecting to see. A ruggedly handsome Shouta Aizawa stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with a small smirk on his lips.

“Good morning, Kitty.” As endearing as the pet name is, the only emotion you feel right now is confusion. Your mind is drifting to all the fanfiction you’d read online, piecing together the events of last night like a puzzle. ‘The bottle of water was already open’. In your defense, they’re pro heroes, it’s only natural for you-- or anyone, really-- to let your guard down. A large hand on your shoulder jolts you back to reality, your eyes wide as you stare up at Shouta like a deer in headlights.

“You okay Kitten?” All you can manage as you settle your thoughts is to blink up at the man, swallowing down the lump in your throat before letting out a shaky breath.

“Let me guess. I’m home now, aren’t I?” The man stares back down at you with subtly raised eyebrows before chuckling softly.

“That’s not the reaction I was expecting, but I can’t say I’m mad about it. You’re a smart little kitty, aren’t you.” He leaves you to your thoughts and your mind begins reeling once again. You understand this is wrong, that you shouldn’t be so willing, so obedient. You also know how boring your life has been up until now. How mundane and lonely you’d been for as long as you can remember.

You’d cut ties with your family long ago, and ‘friend’ is a very loose term. Most of the people you called friends are acquaintances at best, your antisociality and trust issues meant ‘making friends’ is not on your life agenda. Somehow you knew, deep down, you wanted something like this to happen. You longed to give up control, to let someone else string you along and take the reins and let you relax, not have to worry about anything anymore. That side of you tended to make itself known through your explorative late teen years.

You’d had romantic partners before, though once anything intimate came up they all refused to associate with you anymore. They couldn’t understand your want to give up control, your need to submit. They refused to collar you ‘like an animal’. None of your partners ever understood the weight behind such a garment. This may be your chance at the relationship you’d always craved, regardless of its twisted nature.

Then there’s the logical side, the chances of you actually escaping. As a quirkless human in the presence of two trained pro heroes (assuming Hizashi is also in on this), the likelihood of you making it out is slim to nonexistent. If you somehow manage to get out, the two could easily track you down and just as easily drag you back. So, as wrong as it seems, you don’t fight it.

Shouta returns with a tray of breakfast, setting it down on your lap after you’d adjusted yourself to lean against the headboard. As he pulls back you mumble a ‘thank you’ and begin to eat, acknowledging the pang of hunger in your belly. As weird as it seems to say ‘thank you’ to your captor, you find it could be helpful even if only a little. Being polite is automatic, but it’s also a great way to make sure you don’t end up injured, or worse, dead somewhere, so for once in a long time your manners are intended. You’d gotten halfway through your meal when Shouta speaks up.

“You’re taking this really well.” He almost seems skeptical. You peer up at him as you finish the food in your mouth.

“There isn’t much use panicking. I’d only end up hurting myself. Besides, it’s not like I can get out.” You motion to the cuff around your ankle and he gives a small chuckle.

“You’re not wrong, kitten.” He leaves to let you finish breakfast, returning ten minutes later and taking your empty tray. He comes back right after, a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold in hand.

“I’m sure you need to use the bathroom.” You give a small nod, acknowledging the pressure in your bladder for the first time since you woke up. Gently, he takes your wrists and locks the cuffs around them, then holds up the blindfold before going to tie it around your head.

“These are just a precaution.” Soon you feel the cuff on your ankle fall away, and Shouta’s strong arms loop under your knees and back as he lifts you off the bed.You’re both surprised and not that he can lift you with relative ease. He is a pro hero after all. It takes less than 30 seconds for him to stop and gently place you down, taking the blindfold and cuffs off.

“I’ll be waiting just outside the door. Once you’re done, knock and I’ll take you back to bed.” You nod and he leaves, locking the door once he’s outside. Of course it locks from the outside. You take a moment to just think about your current predicament. Currently you’re locked in the house of a pro hero, being kept against your will (sort of). Your life had just taken an unexpected turn.

You knock on the door like Shouta said, and it isn’t long before you’re back on the bed with the cuff around your ankle. As he turns to leave you stop him, and he turns back to you with a quirked eyebrow.

“Can I...draw?” You didn’t know if he’d actually let you have anything, but it was worth a shot. If you were to be cooped up here you need to keep yourself occupied. With a low hum, he leaves the room and comes back with a sketch pad, pencil, and eraser.

Days come and go with either of the pros serving you three meals a day. They begin questioning your obedience, especially Hizashi. He questioned your lack of panic and how you never seemed to try to escape. Even he knows this isn’t normal. Shouta seems less skeptical, like he’d expected less of a fight than any normal, sane person would give. When Hizashi asked questions you answered truthfully. Lying is of no use to you.

“Really, I don’t mind it here. So far my life has been pretty shitty and boring, so this turn of events is mildly appreciated. Besides, you treat me relatively well, considering I’m being held captive, so I can’t say I’m upset.” You’d guessed from both your reading and their actions that they truly believed they cared about you. The chances of them hurting you are slim, so you’re able to live with them without fear.

The cuff around your ankle came off about a week in, and Shouta gave you the freedom to roam the house, though it wasn’t without warning. He held his hand out to you, an offer to help you stand, and you took it. Slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and shift your weight to your feet. Your legs shake like a newborn fawn, but Shouta held you to let you stretch your legs and get comfortable walking again.

He led you out to what you assume is the dining table and sat you down, Shouta taking the seat on your right. You assume Hizashi is in the kitchen, what with the clatter and smell of food. Shouta asked what you’d been drawing, which caught you a bit off guard, but you answered anyway.

“Koi fish.” He hummed, focused on you.

“Any particular reason why?” You take a moment to think about your answer, it’s not a question you’re used to responding to.

“Well they’re gorgeous creatures. Elegant, sleek and graceful. The way they move is so mesmerizing, smooth and flawless like a flowing creek. I’ve always loved drawing koi.”

The conversation lapses into your fascination with the fish, how they somehow remind you of dragons and how the fantastical creature’s existence isn’t as far-fetched as it’s made out to be. Hizashi joins soon enough, serving dinner and listening in on the conversation.

Once you all finish eating you get comfortable on the couch, nestled between the two men. It isn’t long before you drift off to sleep, their body heat lulling you into dreamland. Shouta carries you to bed, carefully laying you down and pressing a light kiss to your temple. He stands above you, admiring your features as you sleep.

You’re gorgeous to him, a goddess in your own right. He and his blonde counterpart had started watching you mainly because you were a woman, completely alone and seemingly unarmed in a bar until the earliest hours of the morning. Neither of them could tell if you were quirkless or not, and as heroes they made sure to keep an eye on you during their weekly trip to the bar should you get into any trouble.

But eventually it became a habit to look for you, and the more they looked the farther they fell. You looked as exhausted as Shouta every time you stepped through the doors, hair just beginning to lose its style and shoulders sagged. But you were so beautiful, even in your exhausted state. Hizashi was the first to mention his infatuation to Shouta, but the raven-haired man had already figured the blonde was into you.

Soon enough they began to get antsy, constantly watching you walk out the door into the dead of night all alone. You’re just too trusting of the world outside, not taking enough precautions for a woman of your caliber. They made it their mission to make sure you were safe, and one day, take you back home where they could protect you.

Now that you’re here, it’s like a dream. Even as you sleep you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. How your lashes flutter against your cheeks, the way your lips softly part with every breath, how your chest gently rises and falls, it all makes him stare down at you in complete awe. It takes a great deal of willpower for him to tear his eyes away from you and join Hizashi in their room.

***3 months later***

A couple months have passed since you’d...moved in with the two men, and you can’t say you hate it. They’ve respected your privacy, allowing you to stay in your own room and letting you bathe yourself after refusing their attempts at persuading you to join them. Honestly it’s been nice living with them.

Though, the longer you’re with them the more thoughts begin gathering and swirling in your head. Caring thoughts, how their days progress, how they’re feeling at any point in time. And needy, dirty thoughts. Any time those pop up you make it a point to push them deep down into the farthest recesses of your brain, refusing to fuel those pesky embers.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you know what’s happening, what’s been happening. You’re no stranger to Stockholm Syndrome, having done your own minimal research on the subject a few years back. You constantly tell yourself this isn’t normal, nor is it healthy, to enjoy the company of your captors. You have to remind yourself that they had taken you from everything you knew, and even though there wasn’t much for you to love, they’d taken you from that as well.

But soon enough the illogical prevailed, because despite all of that, the two have been nothing but good to you.

In no time at all the days you spend alone in the large house are the days you find yourself missing their company, hoping they’d return sooner. You managed to dig through their clothes and pick out some of their older t-shirts, and began wearing them around the house. Their lingering scents have been a comfort as you patiently wait for them to come back. They don’t seem to mind at all, so you’re content.

As time passes you get closer with them, gravitating toward them and snuggling into either of their sides, letting them wrap an arm around you and tug you into them. You began giving kisses when they left and returned, a small peck on the cheek at the door. The first time you had engaged a kiss was a shock to both of them.

You had tugged Shouta’s sleeve and when he turned you silently grabbed his collar and yanked him down, leaving a small peck on his cheek, doing the same with Hizashi. They barely had the time to react before you dashed to your room and curled under the blankets, face heated and heart pounding like some schoolgirl who had confessed to her crush and got a positive response. That night you’d received more cuddles and kisses than normal.

The kisses became routine, and before long you all slept in the same bed. Strangely enough, life began to feel somewhat normal. The house began to feel like home.

And soon enough that schoolgirl crush manifested into something dirty, something lustful and carnal. Just as much as you long to be around them, you want desperately to feel their hands on your bare skin, mapping out the curves of your body as you writhe beneath them. You crave them and their touch. But of course you still have your pride. Dropping hints would have to suffice.

Slowly, subtly, you dress lighter, more scantily. No shorts under their t-shirts that barely cover your ass, allowing the stretched collars to drop and expose the slightest peek of skin. After a shower you walk back to the room in nothing but a towel, allowing the edge to ride up your thighs. Your tactics seemed to work, their eyes glued to the newly exposed skin, soaking in your plush thighs and soft skin. Their stares make you ache, but after weeks of nothing but lingering glances you decide to toss your pride out the window.

You have dinner ready when they walk in the door, and after everyone had eaten and showered you usher them both to the couch while you sit facing them from the coffee table. Their confusion is evident on their faces, your nervous fidgeting and reluctance to look them in the eyes didn’t help. What you’re about to bring up is embarrassing to say the least, but staying silent would be a detriment to your sanity. With a steadying breath, you meet their gaze and quietly force out your seemingly ridiculous request.

“So… I enjoy being here with you,” your fingers twist into the hem of your shirt and you swallow down the lump in your throat, “and I really appreciate that you’ve given me anything I asked for-”

“No.” Shouta’s voice suddenly cuts off your sentence.

“You can’t go outside, Kitten. I’m sorry, but that’s non-negotiable right now.” You blink dumbly at him, completely thrown off balance by his statement before you catch yourself, waving your hands frantically in front of you.

“No! Oh god, that’s not…um…. I wasn’t asking to go outside. I love being here, with you, and doing whatever but...it’s what we don’t do...that’s bothering me...just a little bit…” By now your voice is so quiet and high-pitched you wonder if they can even hear you. Hizashi, bless his heart, is just as confused as before the conversation started.

“Sunshine, you aren’t making much sense. If you think about it, there’s actually a lot we don’t do.” Shouta holds a hand up, silencing the blonde. His dark eyes drag over your body, watching the way your thighs almost imperceptibly rub together and you can’t meet his gaze. You squirm, the intensity in his eyes something you aren’t used to but it makes you hot all over. His hand comes down on his thigh twice.

“Come here, Kitty.” Slowly, you stand and walk to him, letting his hands grab your hips and pull you down to straddle his lap. A finger curls under your chin, angling your head to look Shouta in the eyes. A small smirk pulls the corner of his mouth, a moment of realization flashing across his face.

“Our little Kitty is getting needy ‘Zashi. Isn’t that right, Kitten?” Heat flooded your face, your embarrassment and arousal sending hot blood to your face and chest. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, hoping they’d do something about the very horny state you’re in. Shouta’s hand moves to your hip again, lifting you and placing you in Hizashi’s lap before standing and walking away.

The blonde cooed at the surprised squeak you let out at the sudden movement, and you open your eyes to his wide grin. Leaning forward, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. It feels nice, and you let your body melt into him and his warmth, his long fingers digging into the flesh of your lower back as he tugs you closer and a pleasant haze settles over your mind.

It’s a blissful moment shared between you, and Shouta returns just as Hizashi pulls away from the kiss. They share a look you can’t place before the former raises a hand to gently stroke your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He seems conflicted, trying to mull over some sort of decision in his brain, his brows just barely drawn and jaw set. When his eyes dropped to his other hand, yours followed, to find he held a long thin black velvet box. Clearly it holds some sort of jewelry.

After a few moments he turns it to you and lifts the lid, and your heart damn near stops beating. Whether it’s from excitement or a brief flash of fear, you don’t know. These two have been watching you for much longer than just at the bar. Those few months are only the tip of the iceberg, but how they’d come to notice you would probably forever remain a mystery to you.

Right now, all that matters is that they know everything. From your failed relationships to the reason they’d all ended. They had to know, that’s the only explanation. There’s no possible way it’s pure coincidence that you now gaze down at a beautifully crafted leather collar. It’s simple, thin, black dotted sparsely with sparkling gems and a dainty metal ring centered at the front. Tentatively, you reach out and trace the leather with your fingers.

“Is this...for me?” A deep hum sounds in Shouta’s chest, and that’s answer enough for you. Shouta plucks the garment from its seat and moves behind you. The cool leather feels heavenly as he loops it around your neck, his fingers brushing your skin. Everything seemed to go quiet as you waited for something, anything, to solidify this moment.

Click.

You shudder out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Shouta tilts your head and presses his lips to yours, looping a finger through the collar and giving a gentle tug. It makes you mewl, allowing him space to slip his tongue behind your teeth. He can see your pupils dilate when he pulls away, plush lips slick with saliva, lust invading your mind. You look so needy and desperate for them, so fucking gorgeous.

Hizashi leaves a kiss on your cheek then picks you up and places you on your feet. Both men grab either of your hands, lacing their fingers with yours, and gently pull you with them to the bedroom. Hizashi begins undressing first, and you can only let your eyes drag over his bare upper body for a moment before Shouta grabs your chin and distracts you with another kiss. This one is more passionate, heated, rough as his tongue effortlessly invades and dominates your mouth. Hizashi’s voice permeates your lust-filled haze.

“Come here, baby.” Shouta pulls away and allows you to walk over to where the blonde sits naked on the edge of the bed. He motions for you to turn around and you oblige, then he grabs your hips and pulls you back to sit in his lap, your back pressed to his chest. You watch as Shouta undresses, baring his skin to you as Hizashi tasks himself with undressing you.

Your shirt is the first to be removed, a groan spilling from the blonde when he discovers you aren’t wearing a bra. He pulls you flush against his chest, peppering wet kisses down your neck and shoulders as your eyes roam over Shouta’s sculpted frame. The raven haired man makes his way over, kneeling down between your legs and reaching up to toy with your breasts, rough fingers working your nipples until they peak. Hizashi’s hands find their way down to the pouch of your stomach, grabbing at the soft pliant flesh and squishing the fat there.

You let out a low whine, feeling extremely self-conscious with his hands working at the parts of your body you hate the most. You grab at his wrists in an attempt to pull him away, but he hushes you and whispers into your ear, his breath hot on your neck.

“It’s okay, pretty baby. Let me feel you.” You will yourself to let him go, let his hands explore your body the way he wants. He keeps his hands on your belly, long fingers massaging into your skin.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He’s nipping and kissing at your neck, whispering praises into your ear as he fondles all the fatty parts of you.

Shouta’s hands reach up and tug your panties down, then grip your thighs and pull them apart, exposing you to his hungry eyes. You can’t help but feel exposed, uncomfortable, as they touch and gaze at every part of yourself you had always despised. A whimper builds in your chest, tears beginning to sting your eyes and your breath shaking. Hizashi leans over and kisses your tears away as Shouta leans forward and kisses at your belly and thighs, hands working at whatever flesh he couldn’t get his lips on.

“Let us love you. All of you. You’re such a pretty kitty.” You let yourself relax, let yourself relish in the fact that these two gorgeous men are doting over your body like you’re a goddess, like they couldn’t live if they didn’t worship every one of your perfect imperfections. Though you’re far from comfortable, the initial fear subsides, allowing them full access to you.

“Good girl kitty, good girl.” Shouta whispers as he nips at your thighs, sucking little red marks into your skin. He hooks your legs over Hizashi’s, and the blonde’s fingers dip down to tease your folds, barely breaching your little hole and making you buck for more friction. A soft moan slips from your lips as he pushes two long fingers into your soaked pussy.

You rock your hips into his hand, his palm barely brushing against your clit making you mewl. Shouta focuses his attention on your breasts and belly where Hizashi left bare, kneading and kissing and licking, leaving blooming marks all over your skin. Soon you feel a knot form in your stomach, tightening and burning impossibly hot. Hizashi feels your pussy clenching around his fingers and quickens his pace, grinding his palm down against your clit hard and curling his fingers to hit that spot that has you seeing stars.

When the knot snaps you’re falling apart on Hizashi’s lap, back arched and legs shaking. You throw your head back against his shoulder and cry out, pleasure racking your body in intense waves. Hizashi keeps moving his fingers inside you, letting you ride out your high, legs trembling and toes curling with the continued stimulation.

After your release you relax back down, chest heaving with every breath. Hizashi lifts you up and lays you down on the bed, Shouta crawling up over you and kissing you sweetly. He grabs your legs and wraps them around his waist, lining up his painfully hard erection with your throbbing pussy.

“Are you ready for me kitty?” You look up at him through your lashes and nod fervently, needing him desperately despite the sensitivity. He tugs at your collar gently.

“Use your words kitty cat. Are you ready for me?” Your eyes widen slightly and you answer without any real thought.

“Yes Daddy.” Shouta growls at the name and swears under his breath, thrusting his hips forward and bottoming out all at once. The air is punched from your lungs, the stretch around his thick length almost enough to make you cum a second time. Shouta leans down and kisses at the bruises Hizashi had left on your neck, giving you some time to adjust. It only takes a few moments for your walls to stop clamping down on him.

“I’m going to move now kitty. Relax for me.” He starts slow, groaning as he watches his length slide in and out of you.

Your warmth feels so good around his cock, and he moves faster, driving his cock so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Hizashi lays down next to you and puts two fingers into your mouth, your tongue sliding over them, coating them in your saliva.

He pulls them out and goes to rub your clit, leaning over and placing open mouth kisses along your collarbone, sucking new bruises onto your skin. Your legs quake with the quick building pleasure, your second orgasm creeping up fast. Suddenly both men stop their movements, Shouta pulling your body flush against him and sitting up.

Lithe, cold fingers suddenly dance around your back entrance, toying with your puckered hole. A single finger pushes in and you mewl and squirm at the new sensation. A second finger works its way in, the two digits working to stretch you gently. Soon there’s a third, and when you’re relaxed the fingers are gone and replaced by the thick head of Hizashi’s cock.

“You ready, sweet thing?” You nod and whine, a little weary but ready to be full of the two men. He slowly inches his way inside, shallow thrusts sinking him deeper until his hips are flush with your ass. Both men pepper wet kisses along your shoulders, giving you time to relax, but you don’t need it. You whine, wiggle your hips in an attempt to get them to move, and they oblige.

Their initial pace is slow, letting you feel every ridge and vein as they slip in and out of you. They build up a rhythm, when one is bottomed out the other has only the tip in, and soon you’re drooling from the amount of stimulation you’re getting. Hizashi’s fingers move down to work at your clit, and just the slightest touch has you trembling. The stimulation shoves you over the edge and has you cumming hard around them, your slick dripping down your thighs. They slow their pace slightly, your holes clamping down on them and attempting to milk them dry. Hizashi’s fingers rub your clit harder, overstimulating you.

“Do you have one more for us baby? I know you can cum one more time for us.” You whine, thrashing in their arms trying to simultaneously get away and tug them closer. Tears fall down your cheeks and a familiar tension fills the pit of your stomach and Shouta leans over and bites down on your shoulder. The pain pulls you over, crying out as you clamp down on their lengths hard. Their hips stutter as they chase their own release, and they shoot rope after rope of cum into you as you ride out your own high.

They still their movements, holding you and each other close. After a few moments they pull out together, the movement making you moan and tremble. Your body goes limp and Shouta pulls you to lean against him, stroking your hair and back. You’re sobbing softly into Shouta’s shoulder, your last release washing over your body almost painfully, your bones already beginning to ache. Shouta rubs your back softly and Hizashi peppers soft kisses along your shoulders, both cooing praises in your ears.

Shouta picks you up and the three of you go over to the bathroom, where Hizashi plugs the drain and turns on the tap to fill the large tub with hot water. Shouta climbs in and sits down, still cradling you, and the slowly rising water begins to soothe you. Hizashi pulls out a tube of ointment and rubs it onto Shouta’s back, relieving the scratch marks you left on him. After tending to Shouta he unlocks your collar and sinks into the tub, leaning against you. You let the two massage you and wash you, bringing you back from the intense scene.

“You okay kitten?” Shouta rumbles into your ear, petting your hair. You nod into his shoulder and grab Hizashi’s hand, wanting to be close to the both of them. The hot water and the care of the two bring you back down to earth, and you start to feel fatigue pulling at your consciousness. Hizashi notices you drifting off and takes you from Shouta. He dries you off with a towel and locks your collar back around your neck.

“Sho, I’m going to take her to bed. When you’re ready come join us.” Shouta hums and Hizashi carries you to bed.

You lay with Hizashi and cuddle into his chest, letting him hold you and rock you as you drift off. After a few minutes you feel the bed behind you dip and look up at Shouta with half lidded eyes. He gives you a peck on the lips before nuzzling against your back. With a long, soft sigh you melt into their arms, content with the new life you’d been brought into.

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