#don’t force your feet into shoes that don’t fit

[lokisgoodgirl]

In Your Hands [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: That irritating, smug, asshole Loki has taken your final fuck to give. Or so you think... Warnings: 18+ minors DNI. Smut. Avenger! Loki x female reader. Mild BDSM (ball related), hostility, enemies to lovers. Language. (w/c 2.4k)

Loki’s curses beat the air behind you, and the door from the training room slammed; smothering them.

I fucking hate him, I fucking hate him.

In your experience, dramatic exits should be reserved for special occasions. And striking an ego-killer blow to Loki ‘Godsplainer’ Laufeyson was a special-fucking-occasion. It’d been a long time coming. Although you hadn’t meant to punch him quite so sharply in the balls.

I’m sure he’s had worse, you thought as the stale sweat of the changing room hit.

The last thing you’d seen was Steve’s wide, earnest eyes as Loki had doubled over in a slap of dark hair with a muted oomph—the final syllables of his snarky ‘advice’ fading along with his sperm count. You did warn Loki if he told you the correct way to deliver a blow to the transversus one more time that you’d start intentionally missing.

Not my fault he never fucking listens.

It’d been building for months: every ‘actually-I-think-you’ll-find’; ‘bad-form-even-for-a-mortal’ and ‘are-you-sure-you’re-meant-to-be-here…did-you-sneak-in-with-the-domestic-staff?’.

But under it all, the worst thought of all was your own: you still want his praise.

You picked up someone’s shoe from the floor and lobbed it at the lockers – pure, impotent rage ratcheting back with the clang. If Steve kicked you off the A-Team then so be it, worth it to see that moment of pure, wretched shock in his eyes every time you closed your own.

Breaths scraped from your throat, trying to stop the tremble in your hands. You’d spent months trying to catch his eye like a desperate pick-me teenager, spent months wishing his approval into existence: the aloof, pretentious god. Begging any higher power who’d listen for the chance to kneel at his feet and choke on his cock while he called you a good-fucking-girl. You’d bought an emerald green lingerie set for Christ’s sake. It was still in the box—the returns window a dot on the horizon.

Embarrassing. If he knew, you think you’d die of shame. Months running yourself into the ground trying to fit what he’d want and for what? Fuck. “Do you feel better, now?�� The ripple of Loki’s smarm filled the air like steam, but it’s edge could cut stone.

Your lips pinched, biting back a slew of curses. You’d expected Steve, but not him.

The idea of turning made your feet root even firmer to the floor. But with every strained second that shifted past, thickening the air, he was winning—staring at the back of your head with that imperious look that only said one thing: I’m better than you, and you know it.

“If you’re waiting for an apology, don’t hold your breath.” Loki released a low chuckle. “Be assured, I can wait much longer than you. How much of your meagre lifespan would you squander staring at those dismal tiles in order to preserve the façade of your superiority, I wonder?”

You spun with a force that twinged a nerve in your neck. “My…?” It came out in a pathetic gasp. “My…superiority?!”

Loki’s face was the picture of serenity: posture impeccable, lips straight. His eyes slid between yours, brows peaked in sanctimonious expectation.

Borderline indecent gym-wear clung to the sinews of his muscular body. The material was like elasticated silk, and every time you’d made contact in training it made it impossible not to imagine frotting against him: bitch in heat.

The lines of the sweatpants draped like a sheet of liquid tar to the bulge of his thighs as he shifted his weight and said, simply, “Yes.”

Heat flared up your neck.  “You’ve got some fucking balls, Laufeyson, I’ll give you that,” you hissed, regretting it immediately. “I’m not sure your knuckles experienced my anatomy’s full glory to report on such an accolade,” Loki replied without a beat. “Their contact was a little brief…”

He tilted his head, an infuriating dimple crushing into one cheek as the heat scorched up your cheeks and made your eyes itch. “A little…weak.”

“Maybe I should twist them again,” you said, folding your arms. You hoped he couldn’t see the fingers trembling. Loki’s eyes narrowed as he crossed the changing room in three, elegant strides and loomed so close that your bellies touched. “Go on then,” he goaded. “You seem under the impression I don’t like it.”

You searched his face, noting the tremor of something deeper than the familiar irritation. Was that…but, it couldn’t be. “What are you doing?” you whispered, stumbling slightly against the lockers. The heat from his abdomen radiated through your gym top. Christ, his stomach was so hard.

“What are you doing, Agent?”

A few black strands had come loose from his ponytail, sticking to the sweat pearling on his jaw. “All bark, no bite,” he murmured, squinting lightly.

His scent crept up your nostrils like smoke under a door: fresh musk, the linger of the cologne he wore at last night’s party, and above it all a scent that was inextricably him. You could never put your finger on it. It drove you mad: just like the rest of him.

Loki released a short puff of irritation, eyes rolling to the side. “I knew you didn’t have it in you.” As he took a step back, your mind skidded to a stop as a hand flew to his chest, gathering a clutch of the slutty gym top, making no effort to cushion the scrape of your nails against his skin, and pulled.

Loki’s mouth crushed to yours with a gasp, his hands flying to the lockers on either side of your head with an ominous crunch of metal. His breath groaned into your throat, the softness of his lips jerking your senses.

Had you expected them to be cold, hard, unwelcoming: just like the rest of him? Yes. But there was time to mull over that later.

Loki’s tongue nudged against your lips, and you relented. The tension in your body seemed to melt as he draped over you like liquid; the cage of his frame and the rub of a thumb down the valley of your cheekbone making you forget just for a second how much you really fucking hated him.

“Show me,” he murmured against your neck. You hadn’t even realised the kiss had slid apart and your head was tilted back against the lockers, the god’s mouth raging a ravenous path down the valley of your throat.

“Show you what?” you panted, bringing your head forward so quickly your vision swam. A lopsided grin spread across his mouth. “How much you hate me,” he said. “You have a problem.” The barb was unnecessary, but Loki’s grin widened all the same. “Discipline me, then.”

His sapphire eyes blazed as your hand flew to his shorts, grabbing his crotch. Fingers curled around the soft, tight sac nestled below the huge erection snaking up the hip joint. Loki hissed, stomach clenching, more clutches of hair falling free. His forehead pressed to yours as your grip tightened.

“Fuck,” he grunted, voice tapering to a whine. You squeezed tighter, and the lockers behind you crumpled under the strength of his fists bearing down.

“Harder,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

His legendary cock twitched above your white knuckles, straining against the running shorts and Loki’s narrowed eyes glistened, the muscles in his jaw and the veins in his neck hard enough to pop.

“Apologise,” you spat, and Loki’s breath hitched as you gave him a brief moment of relief before clenching an even tighter fist than before.

His trainers slipped against the floor, thighs shaking with the effort not to fall to his knees. Even gods, it appeared, shared some of the weaknesses of men. Loki flipped his hair back.

“Why should I? You’re the c-combative v-viper.” A deep set of lines furrowed his forehead, rippling with each flex of your fingers. “You’re nothing but a shit-talking, spoiled prince with a big cock and nice hair,” you said, every muscle tingling with the desire raging through your veins. “You noticed,” Loki said with the twitch of an eyebrow: incorrigible, even in this position. “The hair, I mean,” he added. He didn’t mean the hair.

The god swept your forearm to the side, and your fingers ached immediately. How tight was I holding him? But there wasn’t time to wonder. His kiss slammed into you with the force of a storm, teeth clashing and his fingertips digging in to your scalp and the wet slide of lips across your own. “Loki,” you breathed, and he moaned into your mouth in response. You found yourself bucking against his hard body, grasping at everything and anything you could to be closer to him; to wind yourself so tightly to him that you though you might snap.

And then, your fingers were playing at his waistband. Loki drew back: eyes wild. “Really?” he asked, flushed and breathless. You stared at him, searching his eyes for any hint of ulterior motive, any sign he was about to pull the rug from under you. You gave a curt nod, and Loki’s expression rippled with surprise.

Your hands slid up the sides of his face, tangling in his hair. “You better make it good, considering you have a lot to make up for.” Loki snorted, “Please,” and then several things happened at once. Out of the corner of your eye, the door to the changing room glowed green around the crack. Loki shoved the waistband of his shorts down, scooping his cock in one hand while you fumbled with your leggings and send them skittering across the gleaming floor. “Norns,” Loki groaned as he cupped your breasts under the flimsy sports top, palming upwards. Beneath the bra, your nipples were hard as pebbles.

His brows peaked as his gaze rose from your chest to your face: a realisation that there wasn’t time for all that— all the filthy things you were beginning to realise he’d fantasised about. All the filthy thing you were beginning to accept that you’d fantasised about. “Maybe next time,” you muttered, pulling his hair-tie free in one sharp movement. A wicked smile unfurled on Loki’s lips.

He dipped, burying his face in your chest as he cupped the back of your thighs and you let out a gasp as he hoisted you upwards. Your legs folded around his hips, slick pussy flush to his stomach, sliding down the taut skin until you met the solid bar of flesh beneath.

“Oh, Agent,” he said in your ear, low and smooth, “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

You shoved his shoulder, but Loki’s fingertips sank into the soft curve of your ass, pushing you up so your slit hovered above the crown of his cock.

His eyebrow rose. “Last chance,” he said with a ladle of sarcasm.

Steadying one hand on his shoulder, you scraped the other through his hair, winding in a fist. You tugged, slowly…slowly, and Loki groaned, letting you sink onto his cock with every sharp ache pinching at his scalp. His thrusts weren’t like you imagined: selfish, primal, uncontrolled. If anyone was a Jackhammer —you’d always imagined it would be Loki. But his hips rolled like dough, undulating against you until your eyes rolled back and the rear of your skull cracked against the lockers. “Harder,” you sobbed quietly, nails digging into his back muscle. “Harder,” Loki groaned, his breath hot in the hollow of your neck. “Ruin me, Agent—I’m in your hands.” You dragged the nails deep against his skin: not enough to break blood, but close. Loki’s ragged breaths of pleasure made a new thrill swell between your legs, meeting his sloppy fucks like you were trying to beat him.

The fist wound in his hair yanked again, and again, and each time…the gods hips jolted. His thrusts were faster now— your moans higher— the rattle of the metal lockers and the squeak of rubber soles on tile making your mind swim. “Can I come?” he gurgled between rough exhales, and you pulled his face to yours. There was something in his eyes you’d never seen before—swimming in the whirlpool of blue. “No,” you said, and his head fell back to the ceiling. Loki’s veined cock tugged every inch of your walls as he pulled out, and buried in, stars bursting in your vision as climax began to shift and slide in the depths like a riptide.

Your legs spasmed against his hips, crossed ankles digging into the base of his spine, the grip on the god’s hair unbreakable. Biting back the urge to sob his name, you slammed your hips down to the root of his length, pulling Loki’s mouth to yours. His tongue massaged the syllables of his own name forming on your tongue, the rumble in your throat matching the one you could feel in the depths of his chest.

“Gods,” he choked when you broke, panting, riding your cunt in sloppy thrusts.

You could feel the slip of your cum between your thighs, and coating the length of his cock: and Loki could too. He looked at you with something a little like fear, one hand flying from your ass and steadying against the lockers.

“Can I—” he started, but before you could respond his knees buckled, wobbling as orgasm hit him like a train. Loki’s cry echoed around the changing room, the pained pleasure of his release making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Fuck: he was beautiful. And now...it was over. A sharp stab of sadness slipped between your ribs. The doorhandle shoogled violently. “Everything okay in there? Loki?” You and Loki’s eyes met. Steve was outside. And he wasn't alone. “What if he’s fallen? Jeepers, the floors are freshly waxed for crivven’s sakes—” “—will you calm down. I think Loki can handle himself on some polished floors,” Sam said dryly through the door. “—Bet that’s not the only thing that’s been polished,” Bucky replied, and even at a distance you could feel the heat building in Steve’s cheeks. “You’re disgusting—our comrade could be in peril. I don’t know what got into her.” There were a series of snorts, and several brisk knocks. “Yo, Laufeyson. You in peril in there?” Sam asked, and Bucky’s laugh followed. “Yes,” Loki whispered; brushing a sex-damp strand of hair from your cheek. His eyes searched yours, pinning you to the lockers as he lowered you to the floor. “I think I might be.”

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[luveline]

also didn’t realise that amanda was their little baby but here’s an idea if ur up for it. amanda inherits like spencer’s smartness i guess and so when she starts spewing facts about the random-est stuff spencer’s overjoyed and then bombshells just staring at them with adoration in her eyes?? idk something really fluffy

“Shoes?” Amanda asks. 

“Yeah, babe.” 

“No thanks.” 

You hold Amanda’s socked feet in your hands. “You need shoes to keep your feet warm.” 

“I’ll have socks.” 

You look past her tiny face to her father for some assistance. Spencer scratches his neck, looking absolutely exhausted, though he’s dressed sharply. You’d spent a few minutes finger curling his hair this morning before it dried, and he’s brushed them out gently, giving him a windblown look. You pretend to take a photo of him. He rolls his eyes. 

“Amy,” he says lovingly, baby-voice in play as he leans over the back of the couch, “you know why you have to wear shoes?” 

“Why?” 

“Because growing up, your feet are very small, and very fragile. They need time to grow in proper structures, and they can’t do that if you don’t wear shoes when you’re walking a lot.” He gives her shoulder a rub. “Don’t you wanna match me and mommy?” 

“You wear shoes… different. Mom has heels,” she insists. 

“What if I wear flats?” you ask, eager to leave the house before afternoon. 

She shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest with a Spencer style pout. 

Spencer sits down next to her with a sigh. You’re both aware of how smart she is for her age, and while it can be interesting, it’s also made some stuff so, so hard. Like explaining shoes. “I’m not want to wear them. It’s good for my skin to breathe.” All her r’s sound soft, like w’s.

You rub your eyes. Spencer sucks in an excited breath. “Yes! Skin can’t really breathe, but it’s good to have it uncovered sometimes to help your circulation and your pores.” 

“‘Xactly,” Amy says. 

“And, you know, shoes that don’t fit right force your feet into narrow positions, which can cause a whole bunch of problems.” 

“No shoes,” Amy says. 

“But…” Spencer backtracks, thumbing under her eyelashes gently. “If you don’t wear your shoes, we can’t go out to the store for groceries and we can’t go to the bakery on the way home. Which means you won’t get your sugar donuts, mommy won’t get her slice of cake, and that’s gonna make me so sad.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I love when your mom is happy. It makes me happy when she’s happy. She doesn’t look very happy now, does she?” 

In all honesty, you’re much too pretty to be sitting on the floor, tights to the carpeting and your cute black dress bunching up your thighs. You refuse to close yourself into the ‘mom’ box some may expect of you, dressing as you had before you became a mom, but you’ve allowed Amanda the opportunity to choose your necklace; a gold pendant ring with green and pink sapphires. It’s gorgeous, colourful, and doesn’t even slightly go with your outfit. Spencer reaches for it now, tugging it straight carefully against your neck. 

You frown deeply, pulling your widest, softest doe eyes. “Please, lovely girl, put your shoes on. Or I’m gonna have to be strict, and I hate being strict.” 

“Don’t fw-own, mommy,” she says, listing into Spencer’s side, “you’ll get wrinkles. Worse wrinkles, ‘cos your muscles remember.” 

And again, all her r’s are w’s, her pronunciation lispy and sweet despite her amazing expertise. Spencer laughs and takes her face into two hands, kissing “Wow, smarty pants,” into her crown. “You’re so smart! I can’t believe it!” 

You feel your annoyance softening. Fine, she’s a smarty pants, and you secretly love it so so much. You’ll just have to carry her to the car. Or her genius dad can carry her. Actually, that could be great, Spencer’s never looked so handsome as he does carrying around your little baby, especially now he’s started working out every now and then. 

“Better role your sleeves up, Spence,” you say, standing up off of your knees. “I’m keeping my heels on. Daddy’s gonna carry you, and you’re gonna get wonky feet.” 

“That’s fine,” Spencer says to her in a whisper, “I’ll carry you forever if you want me to, even if you do get all wonky, bubby.”  

Amy preens as she wraps her arms around him and he picks her up. He takes her shoes from your hand without her seeing. 

“Isn’t she amazing?” he mouths, and he means it, his eyes wide with it. 

“She’s gonna protest socks, next, Spencer Reid, and then what are you gonna do?” you ask. You aren’t half as concerned as you’re pretending to be. Amy’s a baby. She’ll learn how important shoes are soon enough. 

“I’m gonna hold her in my coat, like this,” he says, pulling his coat over her legs. 

“Like that,” you say to yourself, grinning. “Okay, you two do what you want. Can we go now? We really need to get some groceries.” 

[lalunanymph]

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟒: 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋, 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌

after a scandal that rocks the entire nation, itadori 'ryomen' sukuna is forced to marry a girl chosen by his brother in order to straighten him out. but, what jin doesn't expect is how much he's willing to destroy everything he knows just to get his freedom back—even at the expense of breaking his wife's soul.

warnings: mean!sukuna, unrequited love, arranged marriage, extramarital affairs, explicit smut (sukunaeste AND sukunayn 🫣), mentions of drugs, mentions of affairs, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of conception, mentions of food, family tension, toxic family dynamics

masterlist | playlist

The day is bright, unseasonably warm for a wedding.

As the last guest trickles in and the church doors close, the organ strikes up and down the aisle walks a bride in a silky, form-fitting wedding dress, thick veil covering her exquisitely made up face. Her father looks striking next to her, tall and handsome in his charcoal gray suit. He kisses her hand and passes it to the man at the front of the altar, his smile betraying no hint of regret as he clasps her offered hand tightly.

The groom doesn’t stutter or mess up his vows. He’s clear-eyed and level-headed, handsome with just a hint of devilishness when he sweeps her into his arms, kissing her right in front of the entire congregation, cementing his willingness to love her for the rest of his life in front of God and her family. 

What the heavens have joined, no man can destroy. 

Those were the words echoing throughout the halls as they left the luxurious chapel, rows of Rolls Royces wrapped with ribbons and daisies waiting to take them back to the city—the bride’s favorite flowers specking the bright scene with dots of yellow and white, a touching new day for two families who were finally one.

Inside the car, away from the cameras and guests, you drop Sukuna’s hand the second he releases yours, and shift to the other end of the interior. He lets the space fester between the two of you, not bothering to even speak to you or ask how you were feeling now that his wedding band was wrapped around your finger.

Your mother told you she heard from Mrs. Gojo that Sukuna himself picked the band and stone, sparing no detail to his help. 

In fact, she gleefully announces, he chose the venue, the music, the color scheme and cars that would bring you both back to Tokyo as a newlywed couple.

You’re dumbfounded. 

It doesn't make any sense.

One glance at him now would disparage those rumors. Sukuna barely looks at you, preoccupied with the passing scene outside the car window. His side profile cuts a sharp outline amidst the fading scenery, and he turns to catch your stare, eyebrows raised.

“What?” 

You flush and look away, clutching the stem of your bouquet tighter in your fists. “Nothing.”

He doesn’t comment on your lack of conversation, deciding to drop this matter. 

All that’s left on today’s itinerary is the reception dinner and you’d both be free of this depressing charade. Smiling too much made your cheeks hurt, and you physically couldn’t feel your feet; the tight heels Okura-san bought nearly cut off your toes’ circulation. 

Sukuna catches you wincing and he scoffs. “What now? You were fidgeting throughout the whole wedding ceremony.”

He doesn’t bother to speak nicely to you once your names are signed on the same page, resorting to his standard fare of rudeness and disappointment.

“My shoes hurt,” you complain. He rolls his eyes.

“Why did you have to wear them?” 

Because it’s the style you like, you want to bite back. One of his ex-girlfriends from five years ago had a picture on Getty Images wearing this exact cut and color when she was rumored to be with him. 

“They’re pretty,” you argue.

He gives you a look. “No, they’re not. I don’t like them. They squish your toes too much.” Sukuna sighs, as if the idea of berating you is too taxing for him to handle.

“Next time, have some more common sense. You’re an Itadori now. Your image is mine and you have to keep it spotless. Whatever you do, wherever you go, my name will always be attached to yours.” He gives you a side glance, and you feel his vitriol and cutting annoyance. “If you wear those shoes and stumble around, you’re just begging for the wrong kind of attention.” 

Mental note made. You glance back at the shoes, wanting nothing more than to burn them. I’ll have to tell Okura-san to phase this style out of my wardrobe.

The day continues with a celebration of your nuptials at a high end Michelin restaurant in Tokyo Tower, the reservation made under his name and intended for selected family and friends only. 

You see Este in the crowd, months after your last encounter with her at the Hokkaido lodge, and feel a nauseating sense of unease when she beams at Sukuna, readying herself at the front of the stage where you’re supposed to toss the bouquet to your unmarried friends. 

She’s changed into a cream gown, almost the same color as your own bridal dress from her previous red number in the church—probably when you were all too busy getting the ceremony underway. Many people stop to stare at her, though shameless as she is, she doesn’t pay them any mind, tossing her shiny brown hair back and giggling with her gaggle of prissy friends also mutually connected to the Itadoris. 

Pitiful stares slide towards you, and Iori even threatens under her breath to spill red wine all over the front of her frock in passing for daring to humiliate you like this; her arms locked tight around you in mid-embrace when you come over to her table and greet her. She’s splendid and iridescent in an airy pale green dress and her hair up in a pristine bow, though the look of vitriol on her face could kill a man. 

We can’t do that, you regretfully inform her, squeezing her forearms, feeling helpless at her righteous anger. The Naras are priceless to the Itadoris—angering them would affect Jin and Sukuna’s relationship with James. 

Ever since you came back from Hokkaido, you hadn’t found the time to update her on what you had overheard from Sukuna and Este, too consumed by wedding prep and your inner conflict at whether you should proceed with the whole farce now that both your families were starting to put the pressure on you and Sukuna. 

Iori, kind-hearted as she was to a fault, gave you your space, one call away whenever you needed emotional support. You hated keeping her in the dark for so long, but there were just some things you could not speak about without going deeper into this impending tragedy of a loveless marriage.

As the new wife of their family, there were things you had to learn—and fast. 

The first being you would always be last in the grand scheme of things in the Itadori clan.

First was their brotherly bond, then their business, and then their shared raising of Yuuji who’s the heir apparent to the entire company. 

Any children you beget for Sukuna would be second in line, a spare in case anything happens to Yuuji in the future.

Between the struggle or slaughterhouse, you chose to duck your head quietly and let yourself be led down this road where your happiness came second to everyone else’s. You had a duty to fulfill—to protect and upkeep the L/N name; nothing else can matter.

Ladies and gentlemen, the bride will now perform the highly waited for bouquet toss! The announcer guides you to the stage where your carefully crafted bouquet of daisies and peonies sourced from one of the best florists in Shinjuku was pressed into your hands. Your family beams across the room, your mother grasping Sukuna’s bicep as she excitedly chatters into his ear.

The wedding is over, the five course meals are done and now, the games will begin. 

Let’s see who the lucky lady is today, he trills, and you turn back from the crowd, steadying your aim towards Iori, who bounces on the balls of her feet, excitedly shooting you a grin. 

If there was anyone who deserved better luck than you in your love life, it’s your best friend of twelve years.

“Three, two, one—and toss!”

You throw the bouquet back and catch the peel of high-pitched squeals, some scrambling. Then, the crowd starts to clap and cheer.

You turn around, expecting Iori to be the one triumphant in holding your bouquet in her hands, but find that it’s Este who brandishes the flower arrangement in the air instead like a conqueror holding her enemy’s beheaded head.

Some peony petals scatter to the ground, looking like crimson bloodstains as Este’s mother pinches her cheeks, happy at her daughter’s good luck on such an auspicious day.

For a split second, the entire room forgets about you—the woman in white, standing all alone with a spotlight on her, arms uselessly dangling by her side; a smile frozen on her face like a mannequin left out in a snowstorm for days. 

You feel someone staring at you from the dais on the other end of the room, and lift your eyes, your gaze colliding with a pair of vermillion hues. 

Sukuna holds eye contact with you for a moment longer than you hope, and in those eyes, an evasive yet curious emotion stirs, stunning you for a second more than you could ever dream.

Then, he drops his eyes and the connection blanks, your world going back to white and black again. 

-

“Cancel the honeymoon,” Sukuna sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I can’t leave like this.”

Jin sits solemnly in front of him, lips in a thin line and circles dark underneath his eyes.

The latest investor meeting was a clusterfuck. None of the numbers were making sense and revenue across the Middle East had been disrupted because of a supply chain leakage. 

Things weren’t looking too bright for Itadori Corp—all this while Sukuna was getting a hang of the ropes and trying his best to catch up with a decade’s worth of data, numbers, and Jin’s expectations. 

“Are you sure?” The younger twin sinks back in his seat, turning his sleep-deprived eyes to the ceiling. Ever since the third quarter report came out, Jin’s been spending more nights in the office than he cared to admit, relegating Yuuji to the care of his nannies and nurses. “Won’t your wife be mad?” 

Sukuna couldn’t care less what you would feel about this decision. This is his profit at risk.

He snorts. “No. She’s too busy shopping all day long and painting. Y/N won’t notice if we never went for our honeymoon.”

There’s something deeper behind his scorn, and Jin wants to ask, but he’s interrupted by a knock on the office door. 

His personal assistant walks in, the man’s flush face and aggravated expression sending off flickers of anxiety crawling all over his skin. Jin’s office with its floor-to-ceiling windows, curated artwork and priceless mahogany desk seems to shrink in the periphery from the magnitude of the news he receives next. 

“Itadori-san, my apologies for interrupting.” Ijichi bows deeply, his glasses almost falling off his face. “But, the stakeholders have requested an emergency meeting tonight.”

“Shit,” Jin curses. 

It’s horrendous timing. Tonight’s the night you’ll be officially welcomed into the Itadori household. 

Reading his mind, Sukuna shakes his head. “We have an important family event tonight. Push it to tomorrow morning.”

Over the decade he’s served Itadori Corp and Jin loyally, Ijichi wasn’t sure if he could take Sukuna’s order. But, Jin eases his uncertainties with a nod and a sigh. 

“My brother is right. Just let them know we’ll meet on this tomorrow. It will give  Sukuna and I some time to go over the report and speak to our analysts.”

Not one to waste any time, their subordinate bows again, leaving the room to make the necessary calls. 

“Can you get me a meeting with James Nara?” Jin stands, buttoning the front of his blazer and adjusting his glasses. “We might need to expedite things on the manufacturer's end.”

Sukuna stands as well, smoothing the front of his dress pants. “Of course.” 

“He’s in his apartment down in Shibuya. Get Este on the line, too. Something tells me we’re going to need their connections to Dubai to get us out of this mess.”

His older brother hesitates. Jin furrows his brow, turning back to look at him. “Is something wrong?”

The confession hovers on the tip of his tongue—I can’t see Este or else I’ll be tempted to do something horrible. Sukuna hasn’t seen her since the wedding when she caught the bouquet you obviously meant for that Utahime girl; knowing they would have to reduce their encounters if they didn’t want word of their affair to spread across the city. Besides late night texts on his burner phone and a few nudes exchanged here and there, Sukuna hasn’t felt her under him in days.

And the need is ever growing.

“Nothing,” he lies smoothly. “I’ll catch up with James in the afternoon.”

Sukuna walks back to his office opposite Jin's, a space curated just for him. He surveys the tournament trophies hanging on the wall, the boxing memorabilia. Unlike his brother’s office, it’s clinical and colder. While Jin proudly has photos of himself, Kaori and Yuuji hanging on the walls to mark his unending devotion for his family, Sukuna’s content to focus more on his achievements and goals rather than sappy, cliche mementos.

Even the wedding portrait sent back by the studio remains in the storage, hidden from his view and attention. A nagging voice deep inside tells him to speak to you about it—to give you a choice to hang it up or burn it. But, he doesn’t bother to revisit that task, hyperfocus on closing this deal before the next quarter arrives.

It’s part of his charade to show Jin he’s worthy of that 110% profit when it inevitably gets cashed into his account.

“Sir?” 

Ijichi stands at the door, daring to interrupt his thoughts; the vermin bows to him and straightens.

Sukuna’s starting to feel like this guy would never give him a break. His mouth curls into a sneer, words piercing and cold.

“Well? What is it?” 

“Sir, Miss Este Nara has made an appointment for you to visit downtown Shibuya on Jin’s request. Your 4.30PM meeting is set.” 

Saying nothing else, the meek man bows again and retreats, leaving Sukuna to his spiraling thoughts.

Three days without her body and the drugs were pushing it. But, it’s been almost a week since he’s had a hit and he feels the gnawing ache overtaking his every thought. If it weren’t for the little bags of coke she had brought to him before the wedding which he does every night in his own private bathroom before returning to the penthouse you both shared, Sukuna might have murdered someone by now.

To prepare himself for her, he staggers into his bathroom, procuring the small pouch hidden behind rows of mouthwash and setting it up on the black marble counter. Sukuna lines it up, bends his head forward and inhales the sweet, sweet powder that sends a shock up his spine, his eyes narrowing into pinpricks and mind floating away in a blissful sea of nothing.

He leans against the counter, head languidly rolling back, eyes half closed. 

His watch beeps with the meeting reminder Ijichi uploaded into his shared data, and he walks out of there with a swing in his step, shoulders loose and a confident grin in place.

The Naras weren’t as ostentatious as the L/Ns thought their uptown apartment in Shibuya begs to challenge that notion.

Concierge immediately recognizes his Superleggera, ushering him up the gilded smart elevators; purified oxygenated air circulating around the ample space, ruffling the tips of his pink hair.

He arrives at the front door, ready to make a deal with the Nara patriarch himself when the door opens and he finds Este on the other end, her red lips in a smirk. 

“Wh—where’s your father?” Sukuna holds his cool while keeping his confusion under wraps. 

It’s fine. If the old man wasn’t here, he could come back another day… after he sorted out his hit, of course.

Her coy smile reflects his thoughts, and she doesn’t stop to think of the consequences, pulling him into the apartment by his tie. 

Sukuna falls into the gravity of her seduction, lips pressed onto hers, moaning and licking along the seam of her mouth. She tastes like Dior’s cherry lip gloss and a bad mistake, weighing him down with the burden of her arms around him. 

Este drags him to the couch, panting when he pushes her skirt aside, finding her completely naked underneath.

“You planned this?” He growls, eyeing her flushed nub that twitches under his glare.

“I knew you were coming back for me.” Her eyes roll back into her head and she bites on her lip, tangling her fingers in his hair as he ducks his head down in between her legs.

Sukuna eats her out right on her parent’s couch, the bulge in his pants hard to ignore. He snaps his pants’ button open with one hand, dragging the zipper down and pulls out his cock, giving it a few good pumps as his tongue traces his name onto her clit.

Este’s breathing like she’s on the verge of a breakdown, the whites of her eyes glimmering in the low light. Sukuna feels her spurt into his mouth and he drinks her down, never taking those sultry red eyes off of her.

Limp and satisfied from her orgasm, she gives him a lazy smirk and pulls him in for a deep kiss.

Sukuna’s tongue twines with hers in a kiss which makes his cock throb, and he aches to be in her—it’s been too long since he’s felt her pussy clinging onto him.

Este’s slim legs wrap around his waist, and her cries are muffled by his large palm slapping across her mouth. 

Shut up, Sukuna snarls. Shut up and take it.

He fucks her fast and dirty, the thrill of his raw cock inside of her enough to make his balls twitch and the band around his belly tighten. 

Come in me, her lusty cry spills from between his finger cracks. I need to feel you, Ryomen.

His name tumbling from her swollen lips is enough for him to spill inside her, filling her with warmth. Este brushes the sweaty strands of hair from his face, tracing her lips over the tribal tattoos on his jaw.

“Where the fuck is my reward, woman?” He grumbles and she giggles, reaching behind the sofa to rummage for the secret packet. Sukuna swats the globes of her ass on display just for him, admiring the thick white glob of his cum oozing out of her puffy cunt.

She settles into his lap with the white ziplock bag, daring him to sniff it off her pelvis bone.

Sukuna arranges her back on the couch, carefully stacking a line of white on her pale, silky smooth skin and inhaling it in one go.

The drugs take effect immediately and he’s seeing stars everywhere; on the ceiling, outside the windows, twinkling from inside her pussy.

If this is what love feels like, Sukuna thinks he’s a master of it. 

“Feels good?” Her voice wavers in and out of his shaky consciousness. Sukuna nods, resting his head on her thigh, eyes closed and enjoying the feel of her nails raking through his scalp.

Fuck, if this is what love feels like, he doesn’t mind upping his dosage for a stronger hit.

The ticking kitchen clock becomes the subject of your nervous glances.

It’s half past six and Sukuna still isn’t home yet. Dinner with Jin starts at seven. 

You bite your nails, knee bouncing up and down as you contemplate driving straight to the younger Itadori’s apartment without your husband. 

It won’t be a good look. Jin would obviously question Sukuna’s whereabouts, and you didn’t want to paint yourself as a bad wife for not knowing where your husband was. 

It’s not my fault he doesn’t tell me anything! You seethe in frustration. That damn asshat wouldn’t give me his daily schedule—even when I asked him twice! 

You groan and tilt your head back, flopping onto the sofa. The satin dress you bought from Dior clings to your figure, and you fiddle with the biker’s jacket you got on a whim, crinkling your nose at how stuffy and humid it was because of the thick material. This isn’t helping my nerves.

You sigh and push back your hair, wondering if you should leave Sukuna yet another voicemail. You’ve already left about four since the clock chimed six, and you’re honestly considering calling up his office line to remind him of this special occasion.

Just as you make the decision to flag the chauffeur from his patient post in the suite’s parking spot to take you to Jin’s apartment on your own, the doorknob jangles and turns.

Sukuna steps in, cheeks ruddy and hair askew, looking like someone had taken a huge windblower to his face.

“Well?” He snaps, like he’s the one who spent half the day trying to get a hold of you; nervously waiting for your arrival back home. “Do I have to fucking roll out a red carpet for you? Let’s go.”

He doesn’t raise his voice at you, but he might as well have judging from the annoyance simmering in his vermillion gaze. 

Sukuna slams the door shut and you scramble to your feet, grabbing your purse and the remains of your patience. He waits for you in the elevator, and you huff quietly, stepping past the doors and standing beside him with your eyes latching onto the ground, simmering in annoyance.

“Stop pouting. Your face is annoying me.”

Darting your eyes to his, your lips tighten into a grimace. It takes some effort to school your features into a pleasant smile, but you do it for the sake of keeping the peace this evening.

“I apologize, Itadori-san.”

Rather than reducing his severity on someone who doesn’t deserve the least bit of his hostility, Sukuna’s nostrils flare and he groans, shaking his head. Underneath the harsh fluorescent light of this private elevator, you can see his skin stretching taut across his face, the dark circles like bruises smudged under his eyes. 

Without taking a second to think, you step closer to him and place the back of your hand on his forehead.

Sukuna flinches as if you’ve struck him, his jaw tightening and body tensing. You falter and retreat back to your corner of the elevator, the skin on the back of your hand prickling. He, too, feels a tingling sensation on his forehead where your touch made contact with his skin, and despite the lack of malicious intent, he doesn’t let his walls of hostility fall for a single second.

“What are you doing?” He seethes, narrowing his eyes.

Curling your shoulders forward defensively, you gesture to his appearance. “You look exhausted. Sick, even. I was just trying to see if you’re feeling well. You know—like a good wife is supposed to do.”

The word ‘wife’ tears through him like a bed of nails. This time, Sukuna actually flinches. 

You look like the picture of innocence in front of him, staring up at him with those wide doe eyes as if you don’t know that you’ve crossed a line. His high-maintenance, image-obsessed wife who thinks she has him all figured out. Sukuna finds you sickening, a pain in his ass. 

As if to retaliate back against your unwanted touch, he scoffs. 

“You can drop the act, Princess. Spare it for someone who actually cares. Like Jin. We don’t have to pretend when it’s just the two of us.”

Unbeknownst to him, your expression breaks into one of hurt behind his back when he turns around, ignoring you like you’re the dirt underneath his expensive designer shoes.

You can’t find the words to fight back or retort, tightening your hands around your embellished purse as you trail behind him quietly like his shadow.

The car ride to Jin’s mansion is hell on earth, if you can call the hot depths your husband’s cold stare never leaving the window, or his tense jaw keeping its edge long after you both left the penthouse.

You never thought such a simple gesture would incite this much resistance from one man. All you had done was try to see if he had a fever, and Sukuna was acting as if you had insulted his entire bloodline in front of his business associates. As much as you want to shirk the pain off and ignore it, it slices you everywhere, leaving no inch of your heart unscathed.

The car idles to a stop in front of a simple, double-storey mansion, one of Jin’s properties near Shibuya that he prefers to reside in over his penthouse in Akasaka. 

And, you can see why. Homey with plants dotting the balconies and blinds at every floor-to-ceiling window, it’s a perfect blend of luxury and comfort for a single father raising a rambunctious young boy. 

The driver steps out and opens your door. You get out and Sukuna follows behind, making a sound of consternation under his breath. He takes a step forward, and you can’t tell if it’s the lack of light, or if his gait is wobbly. 

Like he’s drunk, you think silently to yourself. But, after witnessing his venomous side firsthand, you keep a hold on your tongue. After all, this is the first night you’ll be meeting Jin and getting introduced to his young son. You don’t want to mess it up. 

The tiny gift you spent a whole day making for Yuuji weighs heavily in your purse. Before you could follow behind him into the home, Sukuna whirls around, and in a low tone, he warns, “Don’t do anything stupid tonight to embarrass me. My nephew doesn’t take kindly to strangers so stay in line, princess.” 

His words, harsh and cruel, slice through you again, reminding you of your position as his lawfully-wedded wife. Always beneath him, always available for scrutiny and scorn. 

Before you can murmur your agreement or nod docilely, he turns back around and opens the door. You take a deep breath the second you step through the threshold, heart hammering in between your ribs at what you can expect from the other side.

Warm, orange light drips from the chandelier above. A cozy L-shape couch with a crackling fireplace immediately puts your worries at ease, and the tinkling of a water fountain by the large, living room windows, soothes the ire your husband’s previous words incited almost instantly.

Jin hears the door opening and he steps past the pillar separating the open concept kitchen from the living room with a smile on his face.

“Sukuna. Y/N. Welcome, welcome. Take a seat. I’m just warming up the dishes the chef left for us.”

You bow to him slightly and he returns your gesture with a friendly wink. “It’s good to see you again, Jin-san.”

“Likewise, Y/N. And please,” he flashes you a bright smile. “Call me Jin. We’re in-laws now so you don’t have to be so formal with me.” 

His openness, so different from his older twin’s antagonism, heals a part of your heart that’s still tender from Sukuna’s afflictions. You nod and gesture to the kitchen.

“Can I help you with anything, Jin?” 

It’s strange to see a man work a kitchen, much less a man like Itadori Jin who’s brilliant mind and business acumen was said to rival Bill Gates’ during his prime years. He’s the picture of ease, standing there with a gray apron wrapped around his neck and waist, effortlessly heating up some sauces in pots and checking on the oven settings.

“Oh, don’t mind me, Y/N. Sit, sit. There’s refreshments in the fridge. Don’t be shy to help yourself.” 

You set your bag down on the counter and nod, ambling over to the large, smart fridge, opening it idly.

Apparently at ease now that he’s comfortable in his twin brother’s house, Sukuna sinks onto the couch with a low groan. “D’you happen to have a beer or something?” 

His brother, already back in the kitchen, overhears his gripes. 

“Yeah, I do. Go get it yourself. And get one for your wife, too, prick.”

Uncaring for the warning in Jin’s tone, Sukuna flickers his crimson eyes to you standing there like a statue by the fridge. “She’s right there. She can take a drink for me, can’t she? It’s not like her legs aren’t working.”

You see a darker emotion flash on Jin’s face, almost like anger, and decide to intervene before the two brothers could fight over something as trivial as manners and who should bring who a drink.

“It’s alright. I’ll get a beer for him,” you quickly butt in, and grab a cold can of Asahi for Sukuna and a sparkling water for yourself. You pad over to your husband, ignoring Jin’s flickering gaze passing over your expression and school your features into one of neutrality when you pass the beer to him.

Sukuna takes it without ‘thanks’, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and groaning. You take the love seat on his other side, uncapping your drink and politely sipping on the bubbling liquid.

“Oi.” His terse tone catches your attention and you startle. Sukuna frowns, and flickers his gaze to the spot next to him. In a low voice so that Jin can’t overhear, he murmurs, “You want him to think we’re a celibate couple or something? Sit next to me. Don’t make it so obvious.”

Despite the fact that yes—you two were for all intents and purposes a couple who had not even consummated the marriage yet—you heed his words, knowing that what happens behind closed doors is not allowed to see the light of day. 

Mutely, you shift to sit by his side, quietly absorbing the house’s minimalist yet expensive decor. 

You want to ask Jin what’s his inspiration for the color palette when you hear footsteps coming down the stairs behind you, and turn to find an elderly woman in a starchy black dress and hair in an uptight bun walking hand-in-hand with a tiny boy who barely looks to be past four years old. 

Oh. Your breath rushes out of your chest as you take in his fluffy pink hair, the orange dungarees which clash horribly with the blush-tone hue of his locks. This must be—

“Come on, Yuuji. Come and meet your new aunty.”

Jin removes his apron and nods to the maid, guiding Yuuji over to you and Sukuna. His smile becomes both paternal and soft as he places one large palm on his son’s head, urging him forward to meet the newest addition to their family. 

Disregarding Sukuna’s warning to not step out of line in front of his family, you walk up to his nephew and slide down to one knee, so you’re both looking right into each other’s eyes. Yuuji isn’t shy like you expected, gazing at you with open curiosity, those brown eyes comically wide.

“Hi, Yuuji,” you greet him warmly. The small boy doesn’t say a word. 

Behind you, you feel Sukuna’s looming presence, and not wanting to prove him right, you stand and pluck your tote bag from the counter, rummaging inside and pulling out a crocheted blue bunny. Yuuji’s eyes go even bigger at the sight of the toy, his pouty, pink seashell lips dropping open, eyes never leaving the gift in your hand.

“Your father told me you like toys so I made this for you.” You slide back onto one knee and hand him the stuffed toy, waiting for him to take it.

Everything is quiet for a brief moment and a part of you thinks he might reject you, as children do when for no logical reason. But then, Yuuji turns to look at Jin, as if asking for permission and his father nods, grinning widely.

“Go ahead, Yuu-Yuu. Aunty Y/N made that just for you.” 

Two chubby hands reach for the toy, taking it from your grasp as he squeezes it right to his plump cheek. Yuuji’s nose crinkles and he starts to rub his face on the scratchy material, the furrow on his tiny forehead smoothing out and a giggle blessing your ears.

“I think he likes it,” Jin laughs, and you can’t help but chortle, too.

“I think he does.” You turn towards Sukuna, who’s looking at the boy holding the toy with an amused smirk.

“Well. First one for the books. You have it easy—wait till he starts throwing a temper tantrum.”

Straightening, you extend your hand out to Yuuji who stares at it like your fingers are a foreign object hovering right in front of him. Slowly, he feels the trust seeping from you, knowing you wouldn’t mean any harm, and spreads his tiny fingers towards you—stopping when he suddenly remembers something. 

One more glance at his papa, who nods graciously, a bright smile on his face at the sight of his adorable son warming up to his aunt. “You can trust her, Yuu-Yuu.”

Relaxing at his father’s words, the smallest Itadori stretches out his free hand, grasping your pinkie. The warmth of his entire palm engulfing your smallest finger sets off a sense of maternal protection and sweetness surging through your veins, and you can’t help but think that if someone were to threaten Yuuji with a gun, you would put yourself right in front of the barrel to protect him. 

“Would you like to have dinner now, Yuuji?” You ask him warmly, and the toddler gurgles as if he completely understands what you’re saying, tugging you along. 

You swivel back to Sukuna who’s watching the entire episode unfurl with a look of pleasant surprise on his face, unaccustomed to having someone hit it off with his crybaby of a nephew. 

Resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at him, you give him a triumphant smirk, and he relents, shaking his head with a low laugh. You got me there, that chuckle seems to say, and he keeps his eyes peeled on Yuuji who leads you right down the hall with mincing steps—strides which you match effortlessly. 

Where other nannies and butlers would try to order Yuuji around, you bend right to his whims, meeting him at his level. You listen to him babble in his baby language without any hesitation or judgment; you coo and gasp at the right time, as if he had told you something scandalous. Whenever you had to speak to him, you tried your best to get onto one knee to be eye-to-eye with the two year old. 

It’s safe to say by the end of the evening, you’ve won at least one Itadori man’s heart.

Yuuji insisted you sit next to him on his high chair with his thumb in his mouth, shaking his head furiously when Jin tries to take the seat on his right hand side.

“Okay, little man. It’s not like I’m your father, or anything.” Jin complains, much to your amusement. 

You try and fail to hide a giggle at Yuuji furrowing his tiny brows and puckering his mouth into a pout when Sukuna attempts to take the chair next to the young boy. Those sweet brown eyes search for you, and he whines, unsticking his thumb from his mouth to make grabby motions at you. 

“Me?” You point to your chest, pretending to look back as if you expected him to choose someone else.

Yuuji whines louder, and you giggle, shaking your head at his antics. “You want me to sit next to you, Yuu-Yuu?” 

As you speak, you circle the table and hover at the chair next to him. Yuuji doesn't say a word or even mumble a protest—watching you with wide, doe eyes.

Taking it as a ‘yes’, you shoot both Jin and Sukuna an apologetic look, settling yourself on Yuuji’s right; the toddler smacking his lips in satisfaction. He’s managed to trickle drool all over the crocheted bunny, holding it fast to his chest as a maid helps cut his potatoes into smaller bites, quartering the Shine Muscat grapes so he could easily grab it and stuff it into his mouth.

Jin takes the seat opposite of you, hovering close enough in case you need help with his son. 

But, he was surprised to see that you were perfectly capable of handling Yuuji all on your own.

The spread of food arranged by both Jin and his maid is luxurious and homey, filled with stewed meats, stir-fried veggies and at the center of the table sits a hearty salmon dish lightly boiled in dashi broth, its flavor clean and nourishing at the same time. 

You eat while Jin and Sukuna catch up over business and other formalities, your attention solely on Yuuji and his antics. You giggle when he offers you a grape and nod, extending your palm for him to drop the plump fruit into your hand.

“So, how’s Project Dubai going?” Sukuna inquires, and Jin tears his eyes away from the intriguing young woman who’s getting on well with his son to entertain his brother.

You’re nibbling on a grape when you overhear this intriguing topic; Project Dubai being the codename for Shinjuku Alliance, your father’s company, patenting technology from the Middle East under Itadori Corp’s supply channels. 

This was the one project which brought you into their lives—the reason why Sukuna’s ring was on your finger in the first place. 

Jin senses your mounting curiosity, and as much as you’re a key person in this deal, he doesn’t need anymore stakes in such a top secret project that was sure to boost Japan’s economy as a whole. He frowns, and gives Sukuna a pointed look.

“Do you think we should be speaking of business at this table now?” 

He meant it as a joke, but you, knowing the entire context and having overheard it, tries to reassure him in your usual selfless way.

“It’s alright, Jin-san. You and Itadori-san can talk about business. I’ll keep Yuuji entertained so he won’t interrupt.” 

Jin startles from your sudden quip and begins to stammer out that it’s fine, that he’ll save the talk for later in the smoking room, when Sukuna returns his previous gesture and gives him a glare. 

“I suppose it’s going well,” the youngest twin finally responds with a sigh. “I’m meeting Jiro tomorrow. He wants to talk over logistics and send a rep over to Dubai. I think you should be in the meeting, too.” 

Sukuna takes a sip of his whiskey and nods. “Of course. I’ll be there.” 

He gives you a furtive look, and as much as he wants to pretend you’re not an important person in his life, the truth is far different from the reality. 

You’re nothing but a naive princess who doesn’t know the ins and outs of his world. You live in a fantasy so much different from his own world. Where Sukuna faces rejections, threats and failed investments, all you had going on for you was a rich daddy and a mother who’s descended from retail royalty. You would never understand how important this deal was to him, you could never comprehend the magnitude of burden that rests on his shoulders.

He watches you coo at something Yuuji says, and his rumination catches Jin’s attention. His brother chuckles, and Sukuna swivels back to find him wiggling his brows.

“Say… she’s a natural with children, isn’t she?” 

Sukuna bristles. The thing with Jin is that compliments aren’t actually about highlighting a person’s achievements. It’s a means for him to scheme and further coerce someone into doing his bidding.

In this case, Jin’s motivations are clear.

Don’t you ever think of having children with her? 

In answer, Sukuna glowers at his brother, eyes narrowed to slits and mouth curling from a glare to a grimace.

Jin rolls his eyes, twin telepathy at play between the both of them.

Oh, come on. His youngest brother glares back at him. You know it has to happen soon—her father wants grandchildren… that’s part of your deal, Sukuna. 

“Are you both… okay?” Your concern breaks their staring contest and Jin turns to you with a slight cough, while Sukuna continues to sip on his whiskey.

“We’re fine,” his twin brother grins. Sukuna grunts.

His eyes flit from Yuuji to you and back to Yuuji again, Jin’s silent question echoing loudly in his head.

Don’t you ever think of having children with her?

Growing up with a mother as an art collector gave your childhood a magical touch. 

On days when Lia brought you to work, you spent hours exploring the exhibition galleries, hiding underneath the stone benches, running and prancing around just to hear your shoes skidding on the polished, honey oak floorings as world class paintings looked on at your naive, childish glee. 

Now that you’re older, the gallery is a source of comfort and a spot you spent most of your time, trying to learn the ropes from your mother in hopes that one day, your name might be on the grant of his great building.

After instructing your new driver to circle towards Monolithique, a cube building housing New Age Impressionist art which your mother is particularly fond of, you take the spiral staircase up to her office, letting yourself into the executive suite.

Lia glances up at you from her spot behind the great mahogany desk, her smile both curious and despairing.

“Already back to work so soon?”

You scoff and shrug off your Balmain tote bag, settling it down on the smaller desk to her right. “Why? Hoping I never come back to work again?” 

Looking radiant in a yellow sundress with a Tom Ford leather coat hanging from her shoulders, your mother chuckles. 

“It’s only been three weeks since the wedding. Itadori-san should be keeping you at home to enjoy your presence.”

At the reminder of how long it’s been since the ceremony and yet, Sukuna refuses to make a move on you despite sharing the same bed together, your bubbly smile falls slightly flat. 

“He’s been busy with Project Dubai,” you shrug off your long, black trench coat and set it on the back of the chair, careful not to crumple your new silky Dior dress. “I was growing bored at home.”

Lia eyes the new monochromatic fashion you’re sporting, her lips pursing as she looks you up and down. “The dress is something… different. I’ve never seen such a lack of color on you. Not even a pastel bow in your hair?” 

Referring to your old style which Sukuna had insulted as an ‘old maid trying to play a prepubescent girl’, you cringe at the internal shame you still carried around from that conversation. You shrug, trying to play it cool in front of your mom. 

“I suppose I came to the realization that my old style was… childish.” 

Lia chuckles, shaking her head. “I did love your old style, though. It had a certain innocence. But, you’re right, you’re a married woman now and you need to look sophisticated and carry yourself well.”

You nod, going back to your stack of papers which need your attention after your wedding leave. 

“Oh, about the Daley memorial exhibition—”

Your head shoots up, piqued by such an interesting concept. “Did the board bite my pitch idea?” 

Lia tries and fails to suppress a smile. “Yes, they did, Y/N. They loved your idea and the suggestion of  a tribute for him. Getting his grandson to unveil an exclusive painting which the public has not seen was such a great idea, that even Mrs. Saichi loved it.” 

The idea of Mrs. Saichi, or known as the art curator from hell who loves terrorizing the newer hires, loving your idea enough to put aside her cantankerous attitude makes you grin from ear to ear. 

“That’s great, mom. I have some other ideas, too that I think the board will like,” you clear your throat, removing a clear binder from your desk drawer. “There’s this artist. His name is Suguru Geto and he studied in Vanliette’s School of Art in Salisbury. He stated that one of his biggest creative inspirations is Nathan Daley and his recent works have been generating hype especially in Denmark for its use of Daley’s paint splatter method. I think he would great to feature as a highlight artist, considering he’s—” 

“From Tokyo,” Lia finishes, her eyes twinkling. “Mhm. Yes, I've heard about him, too. A very talented young man, though he is rather… rakish in nature.”

You tilt your head, a polite yet confused smile lifts your lips. “What do you mean by that, mom?” 

Lia takes in your innocence with a chortle, folding her hands right in front of her. “It means he’s a playboy, my dear. He’s used to having his way with many, many beautiful women. If we want to get him onboard for the Daley Memorial, we need to employ a very convincing incentive, indeed.” 

Her eyes rake across your face, scanning down your bare shoulders. You blanche, the implication of her words rising inside you like the warmth staining your cheeks. 

“Are you saying I should be the one to lure him in?” 

A smile plays on the corners of her lips. “I believe so. If you so badly want to take over Monolithique and expand to other corners of the world, there are certain sacrifices and tests I must put you through to prove your worth, dear.”

Of course. You’ve made it known many times to Lia how much you yearn to have this art gallery under your name; your dreams of expanding to cities like New York or Chicago are the same ones which fuel your determination to show up at work everyday. 

You square your shoulders and steel yourself with a breath. Getting Suguru Geto was no easy feat, but you’re an L/N. Your father’s stubbornness and your mother’s wit runs through your blood. But, like every good businesswoman, you can’t just take the first offer on the table. You had to play your cards right; dig deeper to maximize your benefits.

“And if I do get Geto-san for our exhibition? What will be my compensation?”

Lia’s eyes sparkle at your question; she’s taught you well.

Tapping one manicured finger on her chin, she hums, as if deep in thought. 

What she says next is the stuff of your wildest dreams.

Biting her cheek, she says, “I’ll let you take charge of expanding Monolithique to Chicago.”

Your heart literally stops. A breath you didn’t know you were holding whooshes past your lips, and you press a hand to your mouth to keep from squealing. 

“Are you serious?” Your eyes sparkle with a million stars, the first piece of good news you’ve gotten since your inescapable marriage to Sukuna.

Lia hums, the twinkle in her eyes matching your ecstasy. 

“As serious as I've ever been.” Her gaze softens, and she sinks back into her high chair, a satisfied smile across her dewberry stained lips. “But, on one condition.” 

You look at her expectantly, willing to do what it takes to see your dreams grow wings and fly. “Yes, mom. Anything.” 

Lia exhales, twining her fingers together, looking at you with a keen shine in her eye. 

“We expect to hear good news of a grandchild sometime this year.” 

Sukuna’s day was going from bad to worse. 

First, his assistant messed up his meeting schedule for an important VIP catch-up with Jin and the rest of the committee, then some board bitch from his brother’s posse of investors made a snide comment about his facial tattoos which he couldn’t rebuke if he wanted to play nice. Afterwards, his favorite protein shake bar in the cafe below unexpectedly ran out of his favorite whey solvent and on top of that, his wife has the fucking audacity to text him to come home earlier tonight for dinner. 

He’s seething when he reads your message, not bothering to reply and switching his phone off.

If you had half the brains to text him in the morning when he’s still fresh and ready to take on the day, he might’ve been lenient to your request. But, he can’t afford to make anymore mistakes today. 

His position as Jin’s VP already drew raised eyebrows from across the room when it was announced just three weeks ago after his marriage to you. The rumor mill ran rampant with voices of dissent, calling him a product of nepotism; whispers behind his back of how he didn’t deserve this position over other long-time cohorts who were unfairly pushed from the top. 

Without thinking it through, Sukuna rummages in his desktop drawer, removing a small, white packet. 

The entire office had already emptied out a long time ago; Jin himself had rapped his knuckles on his door, announcing his leave to go back home. 

It’s just him, a few security guards manning the building, and the promise of his high.

Sukuna lines up the powder on his desk and takes the first hit, feeling the drugs swirl in his system. The familiar high hums in his veins and a dopey smile breaks out across his face. He sighs and sits back in his high end chair, folding his hands on top of his chest. 

Enjoying the lightheadedness for a few more moments, Sukuna decides enough time has passed and he needs to crash out in his own bed. The idea of coming back home faded as hell doesn’t even cross his mind when he calls for the chauffeur to pick him, or when he’s ambling straight to the door of the penthouse he shares with you. 

The second the lock clicks inside, he’s assaulted by the scent of vanilla and cinnamon. Candles glitter across every available surface, and it feels like he’s stepped into the middle of a séance.

Sukuna’s confusion is palpable, especially when he notices you rising from the sofa, clad in a skimpy black robe with lace trimmings, the peek of your collarbones past the silk stirring something inside of his chest.

“What’s this?” He tries to demand, but the hardness of his confusion doesn’t translate in his tone. Instead, he sounds curious.

“I made you dinner,” you murmur and this close now, he sees your lips shining with a sheen of plum wine, your skin smooth and flawless under the warm, flickering light.

Sukuna swallows and involuntarily takes a step back. 

“I told you I’d be working late—”

“It’s no worries,” you interject, and without a second’s hesitation, close the distance between the two of you. “I don’t mind waiting for you, Itadori-san.” 

He can smell the vanilla wafting in your hair, clinging to your skin. Whether the drugs are messing with brain or his resolution is weaker after such a shit day, Sukuna caves in and lifts his hand to your face, running the back of his inked knuckles down your cheek. 

Your skin is softer than he imagines, and a jolt runs through him, hot and needy, at the thought of how many days he’s spent asleep next to you on the large, cold bed without even once thinking of caressing such dainty and silky flesh. A flash of heat unfurls down his spine, and he growls, low and in warning, his crimson eyes darkening.

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, little miss.” 

Incredulously, you smirk. Emboldened by his touch, you raise your own dainty palms, pressing it to his chest, feeling the solid muscle underneath his dress shirt. 

“Don’t you think we’re both past games, now?” You whisper, hesitantly stripping his jacket off his broad shoulders. The heavy material falls to the floor with a dull thud. Your fingers dance across the buttons of his shirt, and Sukuna doesn’t utter a single word when you start to undress him. 

You’re trembling on the inside like a violent earthquake has besieged you, fingers quivering as you work the buttons off, one at a time, until the dip of his pecs appear in your line of sight. A part of you thinks he’s going to snap and come to his senses, pushing you away. But, the dark, pensive look in his eyes doesn’t fade, and it reassures you somewhat. 

As if struck by a certain thought, Sukuna brushes your hands away.

Your face melts into a look of hurt, but that changes when he brings his arms to wrap around your smaller figure, pulling you flush to his body. Sukuna’s blood-red eyes hungrily search your face. In the dimness of the penthouse, his facial tattoos stand out garishly, bleeding lines of ink across his skin. 

You tentatively reach for his face, cupping it in both your palms. Though no stranger to sex thanks to your reckless youth, this moment feels different. Incredibly intimate. The atmosphere presses around you with sensuous demand, the hot lines of his body against yours causing your heart to thrum out of control. 

His crimson eyes fall at half-mast, peering down at you with curiosity swimming in his dark gaze. 

You tip his face closer to yours, breath caught in your throat. This will be the first kiss you’ve ever had with him since that day at the altar when he made you his wife. 

You can feel your pulse beating wildly through your partially closed eyelids, his lips approaching closer and closer. Your thumb brushes his upper lip, and you’re about to let him close the gap when you see it.

A fine dusting of powder concentrated around his nose.

Instinctively, you gasp, eyes flying wide. Sukuna, who feels the ambience shifting, pries his eyes open too, gazing at you with disgruntled confusion. Before he can ask what has gotten into you, he feels your thumb swiping under his nose, as if scrutinizing some residue. 

He blanches immediately, knowing what you would be seeing. What you had found.

Your husband wants to reprimand you for your invasive exploration, but the words catch behind his gritted teeth when you turn your wide eyes to him, shock and dismay mingling upon your expression.

“Sukuna… is this… cocaine?”

a/n. ruh-roh x238585

btw feedbacks and reblogs will always be loved <3 thank you for supporting my story this far i luv u

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my work, repost, change the sentence structures, translate across any other platforms, and claim as your own

[running-with-kn1ves]

Got me awe struck how you write so well kinda wish i had that skill too! Anyway, how about boyfriend praising reader(who felt insecure) starting from sweet then getting creepier. Like something in the lines of "praising their kindness, so lucky to have them" to "he knows , he will kill for them."

A/N: A/N: sacrificed my soul for this one and it didn't turn out as slayful as I wanted.. Anyway, I hope this is what you were thinking anon :D sorry for any mistakes and thank you!

Synopsis: Your boyfriend's compliment goes a little too far when he tries to cheer you up.

T/W: Mildly graphic threats of violence, forced kissing, manipulation, insecure reader, yandere themes/behaviors

WC:3000

You found yourself in a bathroom stall for the fifth time in one evening, sitting on the toilet with your head in your hands. You just wanted it all to go away: the people, the drinks, the music that boomed in your ears. You had already stained your sequined clothes with spilt champagne earlier that night, the stickiness of it on your chest beginning to mix with the thick sweat crawling down your neck. It was too damn hot in here, the buzz of the bathroom fan making you claw at your updone hair. 

The mass amounts of club goers here were far more accustomed to this lifestyle than you. Which was intimidating, to say the least. They all looked so perfectly dolled up-- not a smudge of makeup out of place, delicious scents of colognes and perfumes mixing together. Not to mention, they could hold their alcohol far better than you could. 

One bitter cocktail and you were already hazy-eyed, your face warm and balance a little loopy.  You were by no means drunk, but the contents of your drink had certainly offered a level of instability to your emotions and movements. 

The image of men in their chic dress shirts that showed hours of gym time and girls in their tight party dresses made you want to curl up in the corner and marinate in self-pity. It was hard not to compare yourself, not when you spent hours searching for the right clothes that would fit with your boyfriend’s stylish accents, constantly perfecting your concealer to hide the dark bags beneath your eyes. 

And yet, even with your hard work, you still felt out of place, still felt the pinch of hundreds of passing stares and biting grins of condescension as you stood next to your overly charismatic significant other. 

Through your pounding headache and shaky breaths, You could hear the winding creak of the bathroom door being pushed open. 

Narrow-footed shoes echoed on the white tile floor, slowly passing each bathroom stall and sink basin. 

“Sweetheart?” A voice questioned. “You in here?” 

You stayed silent, covering your mouth and lifting your feet from the floor. You didn’t want him to know you had spent the past 20 minutes in here wiping away stinging tears from your eyes, shoving paper towels down the front of your dazzling shirt to soak up champagne. You smelled like alcohol and whatever cleaner they used to permeate the bathroom with, and it certainly wouldn’t be a sight that you wanted your boyfriend to see. 

However, despite your attempts to make yourself disappear, you saw his clubbing shoes patiently make their way to the front of your stall. You looked within the separating crack of the door and the wall, seeing a blur of black clothes and sun-kissed skin. Your eyes focused and without warning you made eye contact with him, his face showing a worried, yet sly grin. He was waiting-- peering in on you sitting there in ruin. 

You jolted in surprise, your foot slipping from the toilet seat as you looked away. You hoped if you moved fast enough, that maybe he would think you were someone else.

“C’mon, let me in.” He pressed against the door, trying to open it from the outside. 

Well, seemed like tricking him didn’t work. 

“Don’t come in here Ezra! I--” You weren’t sure how to convince him to go away. “I don’t want you to see me.”

He went quiet, keeping his hand atop the door handle and watching the door.

“Why not?”

Panic rose in your chest again, forcing you to try to come up with a way to get him to leave you alone, atleast long enough to make yourself look presentable. 

“I-... I just--”

“C’mon, I promise I won’t make fun of you or anything, just open the door,” He raddled the handle, pressing his face against the crack of the door. 

“Don’t!” You shout, trying to cover the crack with your hands.

Your boyfriend let out a low grunt, annoyed at your stubbornness. 

He tried rattling the door once more, pulling hard enough to make the hinges creak. You feared that if he pulled any harder, he might rip the entire door off. 

“You’ve been in there for almost a half hour,” Ezra impatiently replied, putting his hand on the top of the stall door. “If you don’t open up, I’m going to force my way in there.”

He began to pull, jerking the door hard enough that the other stalls began to clatter. 

“No-- wait okay okay okay!” You panicked, trying to pry his hand away from the top of the door. 

Instantaneously he grabbed your wrist, pulling it upward to get a good handle on you. His fingers were warm, as if he had his hands clenched for a long period of time. 

“I’m not letting go until you do.” He said coldly, squeezing your hand. He was serious, holding your wrist securely enough to show he meant business: he’d stand there all night if that's what it took. Your several disappearances had worried him enough.

His thumb moved up to caress the dip in your palm, turning your hand to face outwards. Ezra’s face was still pressed up against the door crack, looking to provoke you further out. 

Stomping your foot, you wracked your brain for something-- anything, to deter him away. But the lingering threat of his hand left your mind to draw a blank. 

“....Fine.” You mutter, pulling the paper towels out of your chest. You try to wipe away any leftover tears, but you know it does little to lessen the redness of your eyes. 

With a shaky breath, you ask him to stand back, and slowly unlock the door. Purposely taking as long as possible, you keep your feet moving at an inchworm's pace, hardly stepping away from the stall. 

Your boyfriend tears open the stall door now that its unlocked, not yet releasing your arm. 

You see his figure in front of you but refuse to look up, instead turning away and allowing him to drag you out of the small confines of the stall. He pulls you to the large sink basins, reaching for your chin. You flinch a little as he turns your head, looking at your tear stricken face. You felt like a mess, but he didn’t seem to change expression as you stared back. 

 “Now, what’s been the matter sweetheart?” 

You feel the cold of his rings against your balmy cheeks, his thumb running over your wet eyelashes to brush away unfallen tears. 

“I just don’t feel good…” You say, relishing in the affection, even though it makes your stomach churn.

“What doesn't feel good?” He asks, letting go to inspect the rest of you. 

You relax against the low counter, feeling it hit your tailbone. 

“Did someone hurt you?” He searches your body for marks. “Are you feeling sick? Had too much to drink, baby?”

You shake your head, suddenly feeling like a child answering to their mother. 

“You’re going to have to tell me what it is, then. I can’t read your mind.” He lightly scolds.

There’s a gentleness in the deep vibrato of his voice as he bares the blunt words, looking at you with an expectant gaze.  

You fidget a tad, beginning to pace in a small two-step dance. 

“I just--” You turn away, fidgeting with your fingers. “I feel, ridiculous.” 

You move to grasp your forehead, avoiding your boyfriends gaze. 

“Dressed up in this stupid get up, surrounded by these people who-- who I don’t belong next to, who make me look like a fool for being here…!” 

You fold your arms over your chest defensively, turning away from the man. 

“Did you see the way everyone was looking at me? I looked so stupid, standing next to you! Or even next to them, as if I could convince them that I belong here, next to someone of their own.” You turned to stare at your reflection in the mirror, not recognizing the person who stared back. “I just.. I don’t belong here, with you… with these people… I feel absurd for even trying.” 

You hear your voice shake at the last few words, not realizing you were getting worked up enough to cry. But then there it was, that burning in your nose and the blurriness of tears in your eyes. You felt your face scrunch and tense up, the ugliness of your cries breaking out to make you feel even smaller.

Putting a hand to your mouth and turning away from the mirror, you hoped your boyfriend hadn’t seen or heard the way you appeared ready to sob. 

But a heavy, commanding hand pulled your shoulder back, turning you around with ease as you let your body fall to whatever whims he desired.

Your nose was shoved against Ezra’s chest as he pushed your head against him, wrapping his arms around you. He stroked your hair, pushing it off your sweaty skin. It was almost suffocating, the way he trapped you against him. But it made you feel secure, knowing that he couldn’t see your face full of tears and shame, that you didn’t have to continue to spill your heart out to him. 

“Baby….” He said. It was in such a soft, understanding tone that you didn’t think it came from his lips at first. “How could you ever, ever, compare yourself to these… strangers?” 

You sniffled against his dress shirt, hiding yourself in his chest and expensive cologne, a scent so familiar and potent that it put your body at ease. 

“I mean, you? Versus them? These half drunken idiots who can barely hold themselves up?” Your boyfriend chuckled, shaking slightly against you. “Darling why would you ever want to be like them?”

You wiped your eyes, trying to keep your emotions at bay.

“I thought thats what… you wanted. How else am I supposed show up when I meet your friends.” You mumbled. 

Your boyfriend pulls your chin, lifting you to face him.

“I brought you here to meet everyone because I wanted them to meet you, not whatever persona the rest of the assholes here portray.” 

You looked away, letting his words sink in. 

“Besides, they were only looking at you because you were the most captivating thing in that room,”  He ran his pointer finger over your bottom lip, the cold of his rings hitting the bitten skin. 

“The most,” He cut himself off with a kiss to your neck. “Stunning,” kiss, ” “kind,” another kiss, “and amazing thing in that room. They were just how awestruck I was when I first saw you.” 

He softened as he saw you squeeze your lips shut, preventing a smile from escaping. 

 “Though I won’t let them make the same moves on you like I did.” He joked, laughing as he saw you roll your eyes. 

Brushing his thumb on your cheek, Ezra took away the remnants of tears. A pit of shame grew in your stomach when you saw him frown at your saddened state. 

“But listen,” He bent closer to your face, shifting his warm hands to cup your cheeks. “You’re the best thing to happen to me, hands down. And I wouldn’t trade any of the bastards in here for you, so enough self-loathing.” 

Your cheeks squish as he pressed his palms against them, forcing your head to nod as you went limp. 

“Good.” He smiled, grinning at how you seemed to wait for his next response.

You let him let go, even though you wanted to stay in that position of safety for longer.

He ruffled your hair back in place, fixing the few scraggled strands that he could. Ezra talked while fetching a paper towel to clean the goo beneath your eyes, originally from your tears.

“I mean, honestly, do you think I wouldn’t kill the bastards in here if they tried to look at you wrong? Come on, no way I would let that slide.” 

You smiled at hearing that, thinking he was just being dramatic. 

Paper towel in hand, Ezra lifted you up from the ground slightly. He put you down on the sink counter, keeping his hands planted to the sides of your abdomen. 

Letting out a low laugh, he continues to wipe away at your eyes. His demeanor shifted to be quieter; something you aren't used to from your blab of a boyfriend. 

Dark hair covers to his eyelids, sticking to his skin as the heat from the bathroom has begun to her to him.

The humming of the bathroom fan is all that fills the room for a few moments, Ezra’s concentration on your eyes leaving you both quiet. Though, you could tell he still had something he wanted to say.

"I mean, you don't understand how many times I've had the urge to mutilate the men in this club for staring at you, just from tonight alone" he licked his lips, curling his unmoving hand beside you. He seemed to be… nervous. "I'd pull their teeth out first, working my way down. Tearing each fingernail off one by one, pulling the veins from their wrists… I'd remove anything they have to witness you with."

He looked back up at you, staring within your eyes as if he was lost in them, as if he was looking inside of you. Despite his tender look that seemed to crave your cooperation, that should have made you blush– your smile fell. The warmth once spreading in your chest was now going cold, sinking to your stomach. 

"You captivated the whole room, and I can't stand it…" he didn't seem to notice your fallen expression, or the shaking in your hands on the counter. "I hate the way they can hear your laugh, sit beside you and feel your warmth… how you can smile at them and let them make you feel as if you aren't the best thing to ever walk into this club. I hate it so fucking much."

Your boyfriend trailed his finger down the sequins on your clothes, trying to hold himself back from getting too close. 

You shifted uncomfortably as your he leaned up close to your mouth, just far away enough to where he couldn't indulge in how badly he wanted to kiss you. There was this suffocating desire inside his chest to paint his claim violently upon your body in this bathroom right now, to let you walk put of this club with everyone staring at the little pieces of him only, forcing them all to know who you really belong to. 

You didn't know what to say to his confession…. Should you thank him? Run away? Beg him to go to therapy? 

Instead you stayed quiet, searching for the right words to not tick him off, now that you knew what he was potentially…. Capable of. 

"They want to hurt you, to use you and then throw you away like some brainless sex doll. They only have bad intentions, baby."

Your boyfriend slid down to your knees, crouching down as you sat on the counter above him. He pulled your left leg toward him gently, kissing up from your ankle, to your shin, to your knee. 

"But i'll take care of you, I won't let you be tricked.."He looks up at you with fluttering lashes, raising your leg ever so slightly to press his lips against your inner thigh. 

"You know how much I adore you… right?"

 Your skimpy clothes gave him even more access than you felt comfortable with, seeing the adoration pulsate within his eyes and the desperation in his hands.

"Of course," you reply, hesitantly bringing a hand up to his cheek, hoping he wasn't thinking of murdering you too in this bathroom. 

 His warm, damp hands molded the flesh of your bare thighs in his fingers, pushing in between the tight layer of where your tiny shorts and your skin meet, trying to dig beneath them. He wanted to hold all of you, to keep you in his arms so you couldn't even think of leaving, of running to someone else.

"You know that I'd never hurt you… that I only want what's best for you… that I'd kill for you--…" he mumbles the last bit, pressing your hand deeper against his cheek as he looks up from below at you, giving a cheeky grin. 

You nod your head, hoping his homicidal thoughts were just that-- thoughts.

He was quick to fool you again with that sweet, lovely smile that seemed to bask in your presence, the smile that made you feel like the most desirable person in the world. No matter how many threats he gave out they never seemed to deter the fact that his soft, adoring expression made you feel like he'd choose you in a room full of thousands. 

Your small assurance gave him the confidence to press his head further between your legs, running kisses back up from your knee to your thigh. 

He trailed up your skin, kisses growing hungry. Pulling your sequined shorts, your boyfriend buried his head between your thighs– trying to get where he knows he'll have full control over you. 

"Not here," you said breathlessly and bewildered, trying to push away his head. "We can't do that here–!"

His hair was soft, even with the thin spread of gel that kept it in place as you ran your hands down to his neck. Tugging at tufts of his hair and using your legs to push him away, you found little to nothing dispirited him. 

"Just let me show how much I love you..."

Each time you tried to use your knee to push him, Ezra pushed it against the sink countertop with the heavy weight of his hand. He looked up at you with a sick grin that meant: “just try and beat me.” A part of you felt panicked, not just from the compromising position-- but from how insistent he was. Like he was trying to prove something to you.

It wasn't until the echo of the bathroom door swinging open and hitting the wall, did he lift his head. His eyes went wide, jaw clenching as he whipped around to look. The fearful expression would've been funny if you weren't just as scared. 

You quickly jumped off the counter and pulled your shorts back into position, watching to see someone peak around from the corner. But the sounds of drunken laughter faded away, and no one made themselves apparent.

You and Ezra sighed simultaneously, the heat from the stuffy bathroom showing to have been too much for the both of you. 

He reached for your hand, pulling you towards him. Ezra goes quiet, and you keep your gaze to the ground. He had shown sides of himself tonight that you weren’t exactly sure how to process. 

“Lets just go home, okay?” Ezra says after a few moments, whispering with a grin.“I wanna finish what we started.”

What were you to say? You stuttered, thinking to protest, to run away or maybe even admit how afraid you were. 

But with a kiss to your sweaty forehead, your boyfriend slung his arm over your shoulder and began leading you to the exit of the bathroom. 

Your feet had moved on your own, your mouth still lingering to form words. As Ezra opened the door, the stench of alcohol and cheap perfume hit you once again.

[little-diable]

Reunited - Carlisle Cullen (smut)

What can I say, I’m a sucker for reunion fics. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: What has started out as another day of teaching for Carlisle quickly spiralled into something unexpected - all because of the woman sitting in his lecture hall, a woman he hadn’t seen for the last 301 years.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), only slight angst, mainly smut

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x fem!reader (2k words)

He had his eyes focused on his phone, brushing past students who looked at him with wide eyes and warm cheeks. A soft smile played on his lips, excited about yet another class he got to teach, ready to start a new semester. The sound of his shoes meeting the cold floor echoed through the air, following him all towards the lecture hall he entered precisely on time.

Carlisle placed his things down before he let his gaze wander, trying to ignore the unfamiliar sensation simmering deep inside of him. A few familiar faces smiled at the professor, bright students who aspired to be like him one day - mixed with a few who simply wanted to impress the handsome man. Mostly unfamiliar big eyes stared at him, wondering if he was truly their professor this semester.

And then his eyes met a pair of golden ones, forcing him to freeze.

He was sure that if he were still a human being, he’d have choked on his breath, hand darting out to stabilise his frame before he could lose his balance. It had been too long since he had last seen her, 200, 250 years? Perhaps even 300? He couldn’t tell how long it had been while staring at the woman he had once promised to wed, a woman whose side he’d been ripped from all too unexpectedly.

Carlisle had to clear his throat, mimicking what others would do while they found themselves distracted. He turned his back towards the students, scribbling down his name on the big board before he recited his monologue, the words he always spoke whenever a new semester started, making himself familiar with those who decided to take his class.

But even as the minutes faded by, filled with questions by students who wanted to catch his attention, he couldn’t focus on anything but her. He asked himself what she was doing here; how she had found him; and why it had taken this long for their paths to cross again.

He wanted to end the class early, wanted to rush towards her to feel her frame pressed against his after all those years. But something held him back, something torn between sadness and fear. Would she still look at him with the same gaze that made him feel like a god? Would she still want to brush her lips against his like she had once done with every rising of the day and every fall of the night?

The second the bell interrupted his rambling he felt as if he could breathe again, watching the students rise to their feet while they all shot him soft smiles, already looking forward to the following week. And yet Carlisle couldn’t care about them, not when he watched her move all too slowly, set on letting the others leave the room before finally approaching him.

“I’ve always known you were good at this, it’s always been your passion.” His hands ached to reach for her, fingers balled into a fist to stop them from moving.

“What are you doing here?” The laugh he had missed ever since rumbled through her, clawing its way out of her dead fleshcage. Slowly, (y/n) took a step closer, and another, and another until she found herself pressed against his chest, arms finding their way around his neck.

“Why don’t we take this back to your office and I’ll tell you all about it?” Carlisle gently pushed her away, he reached for his things and wordlessly began to move, expecting her to follow him. He could almost feel his dead heart racing, pounding in his chest to call out to hers. Fuck, she had always been the one he ached for, high on her closeness, on her teasing character, on the lips that fit against his all too perfectly.

He unlocked the door to his office, holding it open for (y/n) before locking it again behind himself. Her eyes began to take it all in, fingers brushing along the spines of books older than he was, clearly reminding her of the house they had once shared judging from the sombre look tugging on her features.

“You’re a hard man to find, Carlisle.” (Y/n) plopped down in the leather chair, legs crossed over one another while her eyes burned into his. He mimicked her movements, finding rest in the chair closest to hers, unable to fight against the need to be close to her. “But it seems like you’ve forgotten your little promise to me, have you not?”

“What do you mean?” He stared at her with confusion laced in his gaze, something that made another almost sad laugh claw out of her. Carlisle watched her reach for her bag, pulling out an envelope that had a yellowish touch. Carefully he took it from her, staring down at the writing of her name on the paper, clearly written by him.

“It’s been 301 years, Carlisle. You promised back then you’d find me again, it was my one condition. But you didn’t, I waited for you to appear last year, so I needed to make sure you were still alive. But it seems as if you’re doing well, teaching, working as a doctor, you even have your own family now.” Her smile turned bitter, no longer filled with the warmth he had felt flushing through his veins moments ago.

No word rolled off his tongue as he pulled out the crumbled paper, barely able to read what he had once scribbled down due to the fading ink. But the parts he could still read were all too clear to him now, forcing guilt to settle in his stomach. He had forgotten, had forgotten about the one promise he had sworn to live and perhaps even die by.

“I,” he placed the letter down before reaching for her cold hand. “There are no excuses I can speak, nothing to make up for breaking this promise. I am sorry, so sorry, my love. Time has slipped through my fingers, with my family and all those things that have happened, I must have lost my focus. But I’ve always carried you with me in my thoughts.“

She squeezed his hand before letting go, eyes flickering back to her other hand. Carlisle followed her gaze, looking at the silvery ring he instantly recognised, reminding him of the day he had brought it home to her.

“Did you get married?“ Her voice was small, barely carrying enough strength. Carlisle's hand shot forward, reaching for her face to force (y/n) to look at him. He shook his head, while being certain that he would have broken out in tears had he still been human.

“My love, my pretty girl,” he shook his head while tightening his grip on her chin. “As if I could ever love another, my soul is bound to yours, and it will always be. My love for you knows no time limit, it’s eternal just like the future laying ahead of us. I am surrounded by those others call my children, but my heart has never been opened to house another love but yours.”

It took her a second to move, but the moment she found her strength, (y/n) leaned over the arms of their chairs to press her lips against his cold ones. Carlisle instantly replied to the kiss, shifting them around to pull her into his lap. The kiss was fuelled by their longings, urged on by the missed out centuries as they deepened it.

“You still taste the same, like home.” Her mumbled words made him chuckle, allowing Carlisle to tighten his hold on her before kissing her again for a short minute.

“Let me take you to my place, love, I want to do this properly when we make up for our lost time.”

…

“Carlisle,” she panted his name, back arched off the mattress while staring at him. He had his hands placed on both her thighs, keeping her held in place to properly brush his tongue through her slit. The second they had entered his empty place their bodies had found back together, set on finding out if they still harmonised as well as they had all those years ago.

“Shh, my love, let me search for forgiveness the proper way.” His words drew a soft chuckle from her, eyes fluttering close again. For the past 300 years (y/n) had imagined this happening over and over again, wondering if he’d still touch her the same, if he’d still find comfort between her legs, if he’d still fuck her with the same love connecting their bodies.

Moans clawed through her, sounds that left Carlisle grinning in success. He held onto her as if he was scared that she’d disappear before he could properly apologise, set on gaining her forgiveness. He stared at her with darkening eyes, high on her taste, on the sweetest sensation he had always been aching for ever since crossing paths with her. She choked on his name, calling it out over and over again like a prayer both had last spoken 301 years ago.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this, missed being touched by you.” Her softly spoken words made him chuckle, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh before sucking on her pulsing bundle again and again. (Y/n)’s impatient fingers tugged on his golden hairs, keeping him close while he pushed her towards her orgasm, set on watching her come undone before fucking her.

He teased her entrance with two of his cold fingers before pushing them into her tightness, watching another pleasure filled expression tug on her features. She clung to him, let him curl his fingers against her swollen spot just like she needed him to. And with another call of his name (y/n) came, letting her orgasm flush through her as Carlisle kept sucking on her pulsing bundle.

With a whine leaving her, (y/n) watched Carlisle pull away to undress, exposing the body she had only seen in her dreams for the past centuries. It didn’t take him long to find his way back to her, lingering between her thighs to align himself with her heat, grinning down at (y/n) as he pushed into her.

Both moaned in unison, relishing in the feeling of their bodies being connected once again. For a few seconds, neither of them moved, foreheads pressed together, she had her legs wrapped around his waist, he had his hands placed on both sides of her head. Only as Carlisle felt her walls flutter around him did he dare move, building a ferocious rhythm that was spurred on by their longings.

“You feel devine, love. I don’t know how I’ve survived this long without you.” (Y/n) could only reply with a moan, searching his lips to press a teeth-clashing kiss against his. Their tongues fought for victory as Carlisle fucked her harder, reminding her of a time where she had still been human, finding her body littered in marks after every night spent with him.

“Carlisle,” his name rolled off her tongue again and again, eyes wide as she searched for the strength to switch positions. Carlisle allowed her to move, to flip them around for (y/n) to straddle him, hands placed on his cold chest. He marvelled at her, watched her take what she was desperate for while he found himself falling in love with her all over again.

“What a sight you are, my pretty girl.” With her head thrown back, she found herself tumbling closer towards her second orgasm of the night, all too aware of the fact that he wouldn’t be done with her for a long time. His hips met hers, burying himself deeper with every thrust all while his fingers found her pulsing bundle, circling it with enough pressure.

She came first, losing her strength while he flipped her around again, searching what he was desperate for. It didn’t take Carlisle long to let go, to follow her down the edge with a groan of her name. His forehead fell against hers, clinging to his lover while both allowed their highs to pass.

“Will you find it in yourself to forgive me?” His whispers made her smile, allowing her to pull him down for another kiss.

“You still have some making up to do, but I think we both know how you’ll achieve that.”

[bloodyknucklesforme]

Pomegranate | Nikolai x F!Reader

Chapter 2

Your second meeting with Nikolai

cw: cw: dark fic, dubcon/noncon, reader is being trafficked, human trafficking, blow jobs, piv, abusive relationships, shower sex, he gives her alcohol to calm her down

Masterpost

You knew the drill this time. All your clothes taken off, this time folded, and left in a stack on the floor. The panties and bra he left you were still too small and were a light pink this time. He must have a collection somewhere, hopefully one he bought rather than gathered. The door beeped and unlocked. 

“Kotenok, come here,” He called down the hall from the living room. You hurried over, footsteps softened by the rugs he had laid everywhere. “Ahh, there you are. Prekrasnyy”

He was standing by the bar, shaking a cocktail, shirtless with his various tattoos on display. “Do you drink?”

“Not normally, Sir.” You stood next to the bar, hands at your side. He poured out the shaker into a glass and slid it over to you. 

“I don’t want you shaking as much tonight.” He gave you a pointed look till you picked up the glass and took a sip. It was fruity and strong, burning a bit as you swallowed.

“Thank you, Sir.” 

“Go wait for me on the couch.” He turned his back to grab another bottle off the shelf for his own drink. 

His house was always a bit cold, making your nipples hard and your skin pimple. Your feet were always cold since he never gave you shoes. A double edged sword considering how others had made you pace for hours wearing six inch and higher heels. 

You sat on the couch trying to seem sexy, back straight with your chest jutting out and a leg extended across the cushions. Just be an object, a pretty object for him to stick his fingers into. 

A hand gripped the back of your neck, not painfully but forcibly. He held you still as you gasped.

“Finish your drink, Kotenok.” He tilted your head back so your eyes were on him. You drank it down in three quick gulps, maintaining eye contact with him. You watched carefully for any sign of pleasure or approval but nothing came. “No more shaking, yes?”

You nodded and he let go of your neck. The liquor sloshed around in your stomach. He had a heavy pour that was clear. 

He sat down and motioned for you to come over. He guided you till your head was laying on his lap, face up towards the ceiling. He held your neck again, massaging the sides of it. He smelled like oud and musk and tobacco and gunpowder.

“You fuck anyone else today?” He asked, taking a sip from his own drink glass. 

“Yes, Sir.” Don’t shake, you screamed at yourself. “I cleaned myself before coming. I remembered how you like it.”

He gave you a pleased sigh,  “Good girl.”

You tensed up as he sat his drink down on your forehead. “Don’t spill.”

One of his thumbs forced its way into your mouth, his ring catching on your teeth. You dug your nails into your legs, transferring all your anxious energy to other parts of your body. Both your hands fit around his one, holding it gently while you sucked on his finger. Condensation from his glass dripped down onto your forehead. 

“Are you afraid of me, Kotenok?” He asked, pulling his finger from your mouth only to flick it against one of your nipples. You bit down on your tongue to stop yourself from flinching. 

“No, Sir.” His hand trailed down to rest on your stomach. You avoided looking at him, not wanting to see if he caught your lie. You were in his den, laying between his teeth, praying he wouldn’t clamp down. You knew enough about the men who paid Arno to know he was dangerous. Outside of these meetings he exchanged blood for gold. The security, the art, the liquor, the sheets all cost money. A lot of money. The tattoos were the same you saw on Russian mobsters. 

“Are you afraid of Arno?”

Yes. Arno was in charge of the club, of you, and the rest of the girls. He was the one who trapped you into debt, threatened your safety if you tried to flee. His threats weren’t empty. A couple months ago a girl got as far as Glasgow before being dragged back here. He gathered everyone into the main club room and broke her legs. You never saw her again. You imagine she went to one of the clients that paid extra to break their toys. 

Arno slapped you across the face once because he thought you gave him a dirty look. He rarely fucked any of his girls. His drug habit prevented him from getting hard so it was more to save himself embarrassment than a lack of desire. On good days he kept to himself in his office.

“Kotenok, answer my question.” His fingers flexed against your stomach, claws ready to come out and gut you. 

“Yes,” you said meekly. 

“He take the money I gave you?”

“No.” It was tucked away safely in the lining of your coat. You told no one about it. A hundred years ago the Romanov girls sewed jewels into their petticoats. It caused the bullets to ricochet around the room when they were killed. Pound notes wouldn’t protect you the same but the coat was yours. You slept in it most nights, a better blanket than you’d ever been given. 

“Good.” He patted your stomach. “He’s a fucking siklo.”

“What does that mean?” The question slipped out before you could stop yourself.

“He’s a pussy,” he chuckled. “You can tell him I said that. Might not work well for you if you do though.”

He took the glass off your head and downed it one gulp. He took your chin between two fingers and turned your head to his crotch. He stopped you from sliding off the couch to get between his legs. “Want you up here with me.”

It was an awkward angle as you rolled over onto your stomach. His hand rubbed circles on your ass as you undid his trousers. You looked up at him through your eyelashes as you rubbed his cock through his boxers. His head was already tilted back, eyes closed. 

You wondered if you could bite his throat hard enough to kill before he could stop you. You took an anatomy class once, the vein was right up front, right? That’s where they always cut in movies. He’d kill you before he died or someone else would kill you afterwards. You could get a lick in before that. Get an ounce of flesh for revenge before he cracks your skull under his foot. 

He pinched your ass. You’d stopped moving.

“Sorry, Kolya.” You kissed his cock through the fabric. 

He hummed pleasantly, eyes still closed. You stroked him to half hardness before taking his tip into your mouth. You bobbed your head, sucking on his tip when you went up. He groaned softly, bucking his hips up as you took him deeper and deeper. His breath hitched when you licked his slit. He pinched your ass again when you took him out of your mouth completely, only to rub the spot apologetically when you took his balls into your mouth, stroking his length with your free hand. 

“Want to come in your mouth, Kotenok.” A hand tangled in your hair and pulled you upwards. You took him back into your mouth, lavishing your tongue around the head of his cock. His groaning turned to growls. He flooded your mouth with hot salt. He held your head still, lazily thrusting his twitching cock down your throat. 

When he moved his hand you finally pulled yourself off him and laid your head sideways on his thigh. 

His thumb tugged your lower lip down, opening your mouth for him to look inside. You stuck your tongue out, showing you swallowed him. 

“Did they feed you tonight?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

“No, sir. They didn’t.” 

He sighed, “Arno never takes care of his girls.”

He moved you off his lap and left. Your head was busy. You didn’t know what to think of him. He had been kind but you weren’t here because you wanted to be and he knew that. He knew Arno made money off your rape. He paid for it and presumably for the pleasure to do the same to other girls before you. You told yourself to remember that. No matter how nice he was to you, he was not a good man. He’d just as soon kill you as fuck you.

You sat up when he reentered the room, a plate in hand. A chicken breast and some roasted vegetables. Your mouth watered. Food at the club was protein bars and whatever snacks you could get your hands on. You didn’t remember the last time you ate meat. 

“Eat. You’ll need the energy.”

“Thank you.” You said, taking the plate as carefully as you could. Part of you was afraid he’d snatch it back before you could get one bite in. You ate slowly or so you thought.

“Hungry, Kotenok?” He chuckled.

“I’m sorry.” You rested your fork on the plate, face turning hot.

“Don’t be. You need to eat. Finish your meal.” He nodded at you.

You sat cross legged beside him, moaning as the juice from the chicken hit your tongue. He rubbed the back of your neck. There was a fascination in his eyes like he’d never seen someone eat before. 

“You don’t go hungry when you’re here, understood? I don’t want to hear your stomach growling when I’m trying to sleep.”

You nodded as you swallowed a mouth full of veggies. He wiped the corner of your mouth, “Good girl.”

When you finished eating he tucked you under his arm and turned on the news. His fingers played with the elastic of your panties. He leaned in to press his lips to your hairline, “Touch yourself. I want you wet for me.” 

You might have played it up, breathing heavy against his side as you played with your clit. Two fat, ringed fingers pushed their way into your mouth. You remembered his words from last week, “I don’t like liars.” You quieted down, sucking on his fingers obediently. His arm kept you pinned to him in a pseudo headlock. The hair of his arm tickled your face. You felt a pulse in your cunt, liquid heat pooling inside you. Last week’s lube was a courtesy, you understood that now. You rolled your hips a little, grinding against your hand. 

His cock was still out. You watched him grow larger and perk up under the curve of his stomach. Drool was seeping out around his fingers and dripping down your chin onto his leg. He hooked one of his fingers against the corner of your lips and pulled, letting a cascade of drool pour out with a chuckle.

“Want you to ride me, Kotenok.” He wiped his wet fingers on your stomach.

Straddling him on the couch was when you first became aware of how small you were to him. There was a burn in the muscles of your thighs. Your hips fit perfectly into his hands as he lowered you down on his cock. You held his shoulders tight, gasping and whining as each inch disappeared inside you. His eyes were dark, pupils blown out. It was a hungry look. Men often looked like they wanted to devour you, he was the first who might actually be able to do so. 

He let you take a moment as you sat flush with his hips. He rubbed your spine, murmuring in Russian against your cheek as he laid small kisses. He’d never kissed you before. You hadn’t moved yet and your thighs were shaking. You felt overstuffed, your pussy clenching around him as it adjusted. You let out a shuddered breath. 

He leaned back, arms stretched out across the back of the couch as you started to roll your hips. You tucked your head under his chin, riding his cock. Your ass smacking against his thighs. The head of his cock dragged against your walls and you couldn’t help but keen when his cock bumped against that spot inside you. 

“Yebat,” he groaned, a hand slapping against your ass. He suddenly gripped your hips and started thrusting up into you. “Pussy fucking made for me.”

You dug your nails into his shoulders, “Kolya…fuck…Kolya.”

Part of you hated how good his cock felt inside you. Hated that this is what you had to do to survive now. Hated how you shivered when his stubble rubbed against your cheek when he nipped at your earlobe. Hated how vulnerable you were yet you were moaning wantonly on his cock.

You slipped a hand between your legs to rub your clit, scissoring it between two fingers. His hot breath skated across your face,“Going to come on my cock again?”

“Yes, Kolya,” You cried. You hardly knew how to discern between pretend and actual pleasure anymore. What want really was. You did want to come but you’d rather be alone with a toy between your legs rather than riding the cock of a large Russian man. A large calloused hand gently pushed yours away and began to rub your clit with fervor. 

“Come.” He ordered. You melted in his hold, your teeth dragging against his chest. Your thighs gave out, collapsing you fully on his cock. He fucked you through your orgasm, muttering about how tight you were. “Going to fill you up, Kotenok.”

He grabbed your hair and pulled your head backwards, your chins touching. “Open your mouth,” he breathed. You did and he spit into it. You kept your eyes on him as you swallowed. He grunted loudly, cum filling any space left in your cunt. 

He slumped against the couch while you did the same against his chest. His heart was beating wildly under the hair and tattoos. 

He kept you on his cock, lighting his cigar as he went soft inside you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and laid your head under his chin. He smelled good. You tried to let yourself relax. He’d turned the news off at some point, letting the two of you sit in silence. He laughed softly. You glanced up and he was staring down at you.

“You’ve made a mistake.” You opened your mouth to apologize, confused as to what you could have done in this moment. “You’ve made me like you too much. Going to call you back every Tuesday. You’re a good cocksleeve.” 

He made you another drink and then another. Then fucked you on the floor doggy style. He fucked your throat again after turning on a football match. You started to lose track of what was happening when he pushed you down onto the floor again. Several hours later you were splayed out on the rug, cum dripping out of you and “Kolya” coming out like a mantra. He heaved you up and over his shoulder.

“Did I tire you?” He chuckled, smacking your ass. Your head rolled listlessly as he carried you upstairs. 

He wiped you clean with a warm wet rag before pulling the comforter over you. You drifted off quickly. His bed was soft and warm, much more comfortable than the cot you slept on in the club’s basement. A lot of men didn’t let you sleep in their bed. One even handcuffed you to the couch for the night so he could sleep without worry. You woke up an hour later with Kolya’s arm around your middle, his nose buried in your hair. He didn’t grumble when you got up to drink water or use the bathroom. Only beckoned you back to him, pulling the covers back over the two of you. 

At one point woke up to him pulling one of your legs over his hips, cock sliding between your folds. 

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered. “Want you like this.”

Exhaustion pulled you back under easily even with his hips hitting your ass and his hand groping your breast.  

You woke up alone in bed. No tea left for you on the side table. Through the bathroom door you heard the shower running. You dragged yourself out of bed and to the bathroom, knocking on the door.

“Come in!” He called. 

The bathroom was so full of steam you could barely make sense of where anything was. A wet hand reached out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you into the shower. He pinned you to the wall of the shower while kissing you sloppily. It felt intimate in a way you weren’t familiar with. He cradled your face while stealing the air from your lungs. His knee slid between your legs and you felt his cock on your thigh.

“Dobroye utro,” he purred.

“Good morning…?” You guessed his words. 

“You learn quickly,” He grinned. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, opening your mouth for his tongue to slide in. Kissing clients was not a regular occurrence, wanting to kiss them back never happened. Yet here you were, moaning softly as his tongue tangled with yours. He rolled one of your nipples between his fingers. “Want you again.”

He fucked you against the shower wall, your legs wrapped around his middle as he bucked into you. You were sure you’d cut open his back with your nails. He sucked a mark against the crook of your neck. He moaned when you tugged on his hair. He came on the tiles only to pin you to them again and rub your clit till you were jelly. 

“You’re shaking again.” He said, holding you by an arm around your waist as he cleaned you both up with a washcloth. 

“I’m hungry,” you answered, honestly.

“Let’s get breakfast, then, yes?”

He got you a plush robe to wear.. He padded around the kitchen in his boxers. From your place atop the counter you watched him make batter and pour a small amount into a pan. He was making you crepes. 

His phone started ringing and he sighed as he looked at the screen. 

“Go wait in the dining room for me, okay, Kotenok.” You nodded and left quickly, hearing him switch to Russian on the phone. He sounded upset and you wondered if you were going to actually get food before leaving. 

You sat to the right of the head chair, resting your chin on the table as you waited. You could hear him get loud every so often. 

“Eat up and I’ll call your car.” He laid a plate in front of you. Two crepes layered with strawberry jam and whipped cream. He was tense, you could tell by the way his hand held the plate. 

“Everything okay?” A dangerous question. It was none of your business. Nothing to concern yourself with. You added quickly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” 

“No, you shouldn’t have.” He rested a hand between your shoulder blades, at the base of your neck. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. My Kotenok’s just worried about me, yes?”

You nodded, looking up through your lashes. Sweet as a lamb you could be. Don’t shake. Don’t shake.  You took his hand and kissed his rings, “Yes, Kolya.”

“Eat your food.”He ordered, sitting down beside you with a cup of espresso in hand. 

“Thank you, Kolya.”

The bottom of one crepe was burnt. You ate it without a word.

He walked you to the front door this time. Kissed your shoulder as he took the robe off. 

“For you,” he handed you another stack of hundred pound notes. Six this time. You held it close to your chest. 

He pushed your hair from your face and kissed your cheek. “See you next week.”

He shut the door behind you, locking you out. You put your clothes on as quickly as you could before shoving the notes into the lining of your coat with the rest. 

The car was idling outside. 

“Hurry up,” Abel snapped. He was one of several drivers Arno had on hand. He was also the meanest. Acted like he was dropping off and picking up girls from the lap of luxury instead of the equivalent of a haunted house.

You stayed quiet in the backseat. You’d forgotten one of your socks.

You were hurried into the back door. Men and other girls moving around chaotically..

Someone grabbed your upper arm and yanked you roughly into a side room.

“At least he hasn’t fucked up your face,” Marcus said, holding your chin and moving your head around roughly. Despite being the reason you were in this situation he was still aggressively possessive of you. Hands clenched in fists whenever he saw you head to a client’s. “Whatever you did, Arno’s pissed. Expected to see you with broken teeth when you got back. ” 

“I…I didn’t do anything. He said he wanted to see me again.” You didn’t know his actual name. Kolya had to have been a diminutive of something but you didn’t know enough Russian to guess. He ripped the letter from your hands. He had sealed it with wax. Funny honestly. Probably knew that every man in this building was itching to climb over another for an extra dollar. 

“Let’s find out for sure, then.”

He dragged you down the hall in a bruising grip. 

“Arno! The Fixer’s bitch is back!” He knocked on the office door.

“Marcus, stop!” You hissed. You didn’t want to be in a room with Arno during one of his bad moods especially not if Marcus was intent on making it worse. 

The door opened. Arno barely scraped six feet tall but he was thin with a square jaw and blue eyes that always seemed blown out. It was no secret he had a nasty coke habit. He always looked a little strung out, a little manic. 

“There she is. ” He hung onto the frame of the door, looking over you and Marcus. He always seemed surprised to see you, like he forgot he’d imprisoned you. He grabbed the front of your coat and pulled you into the office with Marcus at your heels. 

You were shoved onto the couch in the office. Marcus sitting next to you with an arm around your shoulders, holding you against him.

Arno sat on his desk, seething.

“You know what Nikolai said to me today?”

“I don’t know.” You answered meekly, wringing your hands in your lap.

“He’s fucking giving me orders now. Said you weren’t allowed to fuck anyone twenty four hours before going to visit him.” Arno let out an incredulous laugh and threw his hands into the air. 

“He didn’t say anything to me.” You tried to assure. You never rocked the boat, just held onto your oar and hoped your life preserver worked. Marcus grabbed your arm roughly, almost pulling you into his lap. 

“I don’t believe you. I think you’re trying to milk him for everything. You suck his cock extra good? He’s sweet on you now?” Marcus laughed and pulled on your cheek. “Maybe I’ll send you back to him with my cum dripping out of you. How do you like that?”

“I didn’t ask for that.” You pleaded, looking at Arno desperately for some relief from Marcus’s taunts.

“He’s fucking with me,” Arno sighed, rubbing his face harshly. “He’s fucking fucking with me!”

He angrily slapped the lamp off his desk, sending it shattering against the wall. You leaned back against the couch. You had to get out of this room. 

Marcus released you and leaned back on the couch. “Just don’t send her back. What’s the old cunt going to do?”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Marcus.” Arno glared. You bit your tongue to hold back a laugh. “You know I can’t do that. We need his money. That’s why he’s fucking with us. Probably doesn’t even like her that much.”

“Hear that? Don’t get attached.” Marcus pulled on your cheek again. “Nikolai will dump you in a ditch soon enough. Right, Arno?”

He stared at you, blinking slowly, his brow furrowing in anger. He must have forgotten you were there. His brain barely making connections with his own eyes. 

“Get her out of here, Marcus! What the fuck is she even doing here!” Marcus jumped up and pulled you with him. “She shouldn’t be hearing any of this!”

“Sorry. You know how these sluts are. Nosey cunts” He shoved you out of the office, growling close to your face, “Wait for me in my office.”

His ‘office’ was a storage closet with an old desk in it. The door was slammed in your face. He was going to punish you for his own humiliation.  

Through your coat you felt the notes. You would get out of here. You would be your best for Nikolai. He would keep paying you and you’d get out of here. Get on a plane and never be seen again. You were getting out.  

[trivia-yandere]

paid in full

"all debts must be paid in full." says jungkook with a mischievous glint in his eyes. he wouldn't tell your mother of you going against her wishes and sneaking out if you allowed him to have you the way he desired. masterlist | @darkuni63 @momnomnom word count: 10.116 warning: step-siblings, smut, blackmail, kissing (f on f), nipple sucking, wet dreams, alcohol intake, intake, kissing (m on f), fingering, dirty talking, praising, squirting,

“Sit straight.” your mother hisses quietly to you but her smile never falters. “They’ll be here any minute.”

You do as you’re told quietly, seething in your seat. You feel uncomfortable in the dress you were forced into by your mother and your feet are killing you - also thanks to your dear mother.

Your mother - back a few months ago - had met a man. You were less than surprised by that fact. Your mother has never not been single throughout your life. She assured whatever she or you needed that a man would be the one providing it. Boyfriend #19 had taken you to a father-daughter dance before she left him for the next.

Your father was once in the picture, but was later chased off by your mother; her claiming that neither of you needed a man with less income than her. It was laughable - because her income was never her own.

Now, the two of you are seated in a lavish restaurant with high ceilings equipped with chandeliers and classical music. Your mother is now going to introduce you to one of her latest catches - a man named Joon-sik. You rarely remember the names of such men, you would rather categorize them by Boyfriend, Fiance and Husband and whatever number they were. Your mother was married only twice, both marriages ending after a year. She was engaged a handful of times and the boyfriends were endless - and you counted the ones after you were born.

“He’s here.” your mothers tone is one of excitement and nervousness. “Stand up.”

You’re robotic. Your eyes scan whoever was strolling towards the two of you - and you’re left confused. A man is walking towards the pair of you, a light smile on his lips. He fits the part - elegant suit tailored to his size, dress shoes that you’re sure you can see your reflection on and light jewelry but not enough to be flashy. 

“Who is that behind him?”  you murmur the question to your mother and she only giggles in response, waving at the man.

“His son.”

Your throat goes dry when both men approach closer. Joon-sik’s son is tall, even taller than him. He stands out in this environment. Tight fitted black shirt with light blue jeans. Hi. His compact boots stood out just as the rest of his appearance did. Your initial thought was that he wore an undershirt with graphic sleeves, but as they came closer to your table, you realized that it was a sleeve of tattoos. 

You gulp at the sight of the taller boy - man, because a boy could never look like him. His hair appeared soft; black and wavy. Was that a lip piercing?

“Joon-sik.” your mother cannot contain her excitement when he reaches the table. She rounds it and engulfs him into a hug, but you don’t watch. It’s difficult to remove your eyes from the unnamed man behind Joon-sik.

“This is my daughter.” your ears hear your mother say and finally you’re released from your trance. 

Your reactions are robotic once more. You’ve been through this countless times. You smile at the man and bow slightly. 

“This,” the man turns slightly to his son. He ushers him closer. “Is my son Jungkook.” he introduces proudly. 

Jungkook offers a smile and you feel hot. His teeth are straight and pearly white and his lips appear gloss-like - not a crack in sight.

Your mother appears happy. You’re unsure if it’s genuine or if Joon-sik has a large enough bank account and will that causes her to smile. Nonetheless, Joon-sik is seemingly a nice man. He’s speaking with the two of you normally, asking you questions about your life - even if your mother does answer for you.

Jungkook doesn’t speak much but the relationship with his father was pure. His father speaks of his achievements proudly and you feel envious. It was obvious that Jungkook was not forced to be someone he wasn’t - forced into fancy clothes like you and to “sit politely” or “engage in the conversation”. 

“Y/N-ah.” Joon-sik speaks. “I heard you’re applying to several universities.”

You nod your head while sipping your water. 

“She applied late.” your mother sighs. “She wished to take a break after high school.”

You feel your cheeks redden in embarrassment. Your mother didn’t approve of the couple of years you took off to focus on yourself and gain work experience. But of course, this is a woman that hasn’t worked in years and opted in having others pay for whatever was needed. 

“Jungkook had, as well.” Joon-sik smiles at you. “He’s actually going in the next few months.”

You glance at Jungkook whose eyes are already on you. Panicked, you looked away.

“Oh!” your mother clasps her hands together. “You should apply to the same one.”

“It’s an amazing art institution.” Joon-sik nods. “Jungkook is into photography mostly, but he also dabbles in dancing from time to time. Paintertry, videography.”

You’re impressed and allow your eyes to glance at Jungkook. You wouldn’t take him for a man that dances, but you don’t wish to judge a book by its cover..

Jungkook chuckles lowly, a soft tint on his cheeks.

“That’s amazing.” your mother compliments and you want to scoff. She told you from her own mouth that pursuing art was a waste of time - but that couldn’t be said to the man she was pursuing. 

“What are you into, Y/N-ah?” Joon-sik asks you.

“Y/N also into…art.” your mother giggles and gently taps your thigh. She doesn’t know what type of art, she hasn’t bothered to ask or appear interested. 

You nod your head and your ears pick up on light chuckling.

You feel your body grow hot with embarrassment. Was he laughing at you?

“I see.” Joon-sik's smile doesn’t falter. “If you’d like,” he glances between you and Jungkook. “You can go to the same institution. I know people and getting you in wouldn’t be an issue.”

Your eyes widen and you turn to your mother. She slightly nods her head and you return your eyes to Joon-sik. “That would be amazing.” you respond.

Jungkook takes a sip of his drink and hums lowly to himself. His eyes flicker between you and your mother and he’s positive that you were nothing but a puppet and had been since your childhood; possibly even birth. You hadn’t had the chance to speak until now with permission.

“Now that introductions are out of the way.” Joon-sik raises his glass - a wine glass that had gone untouched since a server had poured it. “We have to tell the two of you something.”

You swallow.

Joon-sik grasps your mothers hands. “We’re getting married.”

You weren’t shocked at the news, but Jungkook stiffens visibly.

“And we’re moving in together!” your mother squeals.

That was new in a way. The men your mother dealt with never had children, and if they did you never met them. You moved from house to condo, apartment back to house throughout your life. But never with a “sibling” figure.

“That’s kind of fast.” 

Jungkook’s voice is deep, but not shockingly so.

“It is.” Joon-sik agrees. “But I’m not as young as you, son. When you find the one…” he nods at your mother. “...you do what it takes to keep her.”

You’re uncertain how Jungkook feels. This wasn’t new to you. You dealt with your mothers shenanigans your entire life. However, you’re unsure how Jungkook spent his life. Was his mother involved unlike your father? Did Joon-sik have countless girlfriends, fiance’s and wives?

Your mother places a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it gently. 

“Y/N begged me for a sibling once upon a time.” your mother giggles. “Now you have a brother!”

You’re embarrassed once more but you don’t allow yourself to say anything.

Jungkook connects his eyes to yours. His tongue pokes out to lick his lips, it’s pink and wet and you’re disturbed that you’re even watching it coat his lips.

“Step-brother.” Jungkook comments low and you’re positive it’s more to you than to your mother’s comment.

The large estate Jungkook and Joon-sik called home was massive and the biggest you’ve ever seen; and you’re seen a lot.

By the following month your mother and you had moved into the estate and called it your home. 

The estate was so large that you rarely saw your mother - she and Joon-sik occupied the right side of the estate while you and Jungkook occupied the left. The two of you shared a kitchen and dining area, a large sitting area and you were lucky enough to have your own bathroom connected to your room. It was as if you had your own apartment away from your mother.

Your eyes follow the amount of cereal options displayed and hum. You were hungry and wanted nothing but a quick and light snack - you decided on cereal.

You decided on a box of marshmallow cereal. You grasp the box and pry it open, licking your lips with anticipation. 

You’ve come to realize that everything in the estate was fit for a tall man such as Jungkook. The bowls are inside of a cabinet high up. You always need to climb the counter just to get it, which is what you do. Your knees are planted onto the cold marble counter tops and your hand reaches for the bowl when another one shoots out and grabs the same bowl you were reaching for.

You yelp in surprise, body turning until you’re seated on said countertop.

Jungkook stands behind you, dangerously close. He holds the bowl in his hands, eyes watching your face for a reaction. 

You swallow.

“Good girl.”

You feel hot at his words, but you shake your head. “W-what?”

“Your nickname.” Jungkook mumbles. “Good girl suits you.”

Jungkook places the bowl beside you on the counter, but he doesn’t step away from you.

You open your mouth to speak, but you cannot release any response.

“You’ve been here for a month now and you do nothing but stay home.” Jungkook continues. He comes even closer and now, he’s directly between your legs. “You allow your mother to speak for you constantly. Even as an adult, you listen to her commands.”

You’re taken aback. Was Jungkook…reading you? He had met you a month ago at dinner and since then, had clocked everything that has happened in your life - and he kept it to himself until now.

“You’re a good girl that does what she’s told.”

Your eyes stare into Jungkook’s, neither eyes blinking. His words replay in your mind nonstop.

“Cat’s got your tongue?” Jungkook tilts his head to the side. “Or do you need permission to speak?”

“Excuse me?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond to your question.

“It’s easy for you to say.” you quip. “Your father lets you do whatever you want.”

Jungkook furrows a brow.

“You don’t have expectations to live up to.” you continue.

“Good girls talking back now.” Jungkook’s lips twitch in amusement. “Have you ever done anything she didn’t like?”

You don’t respond but instead ponder on his question. 

No, you haven’t. Your mother was strict when it came to her rules and you’ve done your best to always obey them.

“That’s a no.” Jungkook snorts. “There’s a party tonight.”

You raise your brows at his words.

“At a college that a friend of mine attends. You should come.”

You have never been to a party like that. You’ve gone to birthday celebrations and business gatherings with your mother - to mingle, she says - but never to a college party. 

Jungkook watches your face twist and contort in confusion. You were struggling and now he understands this is probably your first real party - not something your mother would be there for. 

“Or do you need mother’s permission?” Jungkook teases.

You gulp, feeling your cheeks redden. He was teasing you and you didn’t like it.

“I don’t…have a way there.” you attempted to turn down his invitation. 

“You can come with me.” Jungkook shrugs. “I want to introduce you to a few friends.”

Seems like you need them, Jungkook wants to say, but he keeps it to himself. He never met anyone so sheltered before. Sure, he heard a mouth full from his father that he needed to become more “brotherly” towards you, but that didn’t mean his intentions were counterfeit. 

“Would there be…” your words trail off and Jungkook waits for you to continue. “...drugs?”

Jungkook is silent at your question, but at your serious face and large curious eyes, he cackles.

“W-what’s funny?”

“You watch too much TV.” Jungkook laughs. “I don’t take drugs…but if you-”

“No!” you hiss with a head shake. “I don’t-”

“Relax.” Jungkook places his hands on your thighs - you're soft, he notes, bare thighs sitting against the counter. “No drugs. Alcohol and weed, yes. But there's water and other refreshments.”

You nod your head. You were skeptical of agreeing to this party. You and his friends had to be different and you were more than positive that Jungkook pitied you more than anything. But, this would possibly be your chance at a real college party. With drunk party goers and dancing with loud music - maybe even the police would come and shut it down because of how intense it would be. 

“No.” your mother scoffs and walks around you. “We don’t do college parties.” she shakes her head once more. “How would that benefit you?”

You had gained enough courage to ask your mother for permission to go to a party. Jungkook had insisted that you didn’t need to because, of course, you were an adult. However, you had never gone against your mother before and there couldn’t be a reason for you to suddenly start now.

“Exactly.” your mother quips. “Instead of a party, why don’t you mingle with someone that can elevate you?”

You gulp at her words. 

Your mother doesn’t dwell on the question and you don’t bother to answer. Nor do you bother to dwell on the party. You ate dinner alone in the large kitchen, not bothering to occupy the dining room. 

You decided on a late night shower to hole up in your own misery.  You should have listened to Jungkook when he stated that you didn’t need your mothers permission, but going against her terrified you. It peaked your anxiety that there would be a chance that you’d disappoint her.

A knock sounds at your door when you turn off the shower faucet. You wrap a robe around your body and go to answer it, and Jungkook is standing behind it. His arms are crossed and he offers a slight smirk when you open the door. He’s sporting a dark shirt with a matching dark leather jacket. His jeans are light washes with rips at the knees with a pair of compact boots - you ponder if they’re the same one or a different pair.

“I’m glad you’re getting ready.”

You release a shaky breath.

Jungkook frowns. “Oh.” he hums. “Mother dearest said no.”

There’s a tone in Jungkook’s voice, you note. A teasing tone, a “I told you so” tone.

“I’m saddened, Good Girl.” Jungkook places a hand above his heart. “I told my friends that my step-sister will be making an appearance.”

You feel small beneath his gaze. Your hair is wet and droplets of water are dripping down onto the robe and onto the floor.

“I-I…I’m sorry.” you apologize, having nothing else to say.

Jungkook licks his lips. “Don’t be.” he assures. “There’ll be more parties. This one was going to be at one of my friends' homes. Taehyung is his name.” Jungkook uncrosses his arms. “Well, goodbye Good Girl. I’m having the drivers take me now.”

Jungkook turns away from your door and you call after him. “You don’t drive?”

“Of course I do.” Jungkook calls back, not bothering to turn around. “But I don’t drink and drive, Good Girl.”

Jungkook’s words replay in your mind. He told his friends about you - that you’d be coming. You were amazed that you truly wanted to go to this party and see how people your age were. You didn’t have many friends, mainly acquaintances that your mother deemed “profitable”. You only ever had one boyfriend who, again, was chosen by your mother and that ended horribly. 

You dry your hair and add a product, a leave-in conditioner so your hair wouldn’t become frizzy. You take a deep breath while adding lotion to your exposed skin while watching your reflection.

An hour had since gone past and you were tip-toeing outside of your room and outside of the estate. It was quiet and the sky was dark and starless. Your feet dragged you outside the estate and towards the large gates.

You knock on the large SVU window, the tints made it hard for you to look inside.

The window rolls down and an older man sits behind the wheel. He furrows a brow at you.

“Can you take me to…Taehyung’s house?” you ask, unsure how to ask the question without becoming more confused. “Where Jungkook is.”

“Get in.” the man nods his head and unlocks the door. You quickly got into the backseat and put your seatbelt on. Your heart is racing and your eyes watch the estate as if your mother would be coming out any moment.

You never snuck out of your home before. There wasn’t a reason to, not until now. 

You were a young adult and cannot say you’ve gone to a party or had a taste of alcohol. Your mother assured you that you always appeared on guard, that someone was always watching even when you assumed they weren’t.

The drive pulls up to a large estate and now you feel even more out of place than before. Loud music is playing and hundreds of people are outside of the estate.

You thanked the driver and made your way towards the estate. You stood out like a sore thumb - you wore a loose fitted button up shirt and a skirt that stopped a few inches before your knees. The party goers dressed more scandalous than you and there was evidence of drinking. The girls swayed with the music while the men stood close behind them.

Your eyes trailed around for a familiar face - Jungkook didn’t appear to be anywhere. 

You were just glad to be here, even after 30 minutes of not finding Jungkook. You held your cup of juice close to you and lightly nodded your head to the music. 

“Good girl.”

Jungkook catches you from up the stairs. He was tipsy when he caught your figure - the only person dressed as if she was going to the library. He had left a drunk Jimin nodding off against the wall to make his way towards you.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim, a sigh of relief releasing for your lips. “I…I made it.”

Jungkook snorts. “You did. Mother dearest decided to let you leave?”

You shake your head. You lift your head higher. “I snuck out.” you murmur, a sense of pride.

Jungkook fights back his laughter. He doesn’t want you to think he is laughing at you, because he’s not. Or he doesn’t want to, at least. But sneaking out to go to a party as a young adult appears completely childish. But here you stand, eyes shining with such mischief and delight that Jungkook couldn’t help but feel your excitement.

“What are you drinking?”

“Apple juice.” you raise the cup slightly. “I never had alcohol.”

“Never?” Jungkook raises a brow and whistles lowly. “You’re actually a good girl.”

It doesn’t take long for you to be drunk. Five shots to be exact. You were introduced to Jungkook’s friends, the majority of them already drunk and overly friendly. They were kind to you, speaking with you as if they’ve known you just as long as they’ve known Jungkook.

Jungkook doesn’t hide his laughter when it comes to you any longer. You’re loud - louder than he’s ever seen you be in the last month - and you appear happy. You let loose, no longer uptight and constantly checking to see if your mother is around the corner to scold you.

Ji-ah, a friend of Jungkook’s, wraps a hand around your wrist once she see’s you stumbling off. She’s tall with a slender build. Her hair is long and dyed a rose-gold color and you envied how confident she was upon meeting her.

“Where are you heading?” she asks. She’s drunk, but has enough liquor throughout the years to know how to function just fine.

“I have…to pee.” you sigh out and Ji-ah laughs.  

“Follow me.” Ji-ah keeps your wrist in a firm hold. “I’ll transport you there safely.”

Ji-ah speaks as you’re peeing, her face in the mirror to check her makeup all the while you’re a few feet away. You met her tonight, as well, but she was comfortable enough to accompany you inside the large bathroom. She talks to you; so fast that you miss a few words - or sentences. But you’re just glad that you had to experience your first college party.

You’re washing your hands when Ji-ah asks you. “What do you think of Jungkook?”

Your mind is blurry and appearing to be in slow motion, yet fast paced. 

“He’s cool.” you murmur to her, shaking your wet hands. “Hot.”

Your eyes widen dramatically at your words and at this, Ji-ah cackles. She’s seated on the bathroom counter and hops off of it to stand besides you.

“I won’t tell.” she winks and lifts her index finger to her lips. “Jungkook calls you good girl. Are you a virgin?”

Your cheeks redden but you shake your head.

“Ah,” Ji-ah moans. “You slut!”

You’re taken aback by her tone. Once more, Ji-ah cackles. “I’m just kidding.” she assures. “You reach slut status when you’re on my level.”

You blink a few times. “What’s slut status?”

“Depends.” Ji-ah responds. “What have you done sexually?”

You feel like you’re under a microscope at Ji-ah’s intense stare. “Okay. How about this,” Ji-ah leans against the counter. “I’ll ask yes or no questions.”

You nod.

You haven’t done a lot, Ji-ah notes, and she’s astonished that she’s met someone that hasn’t. She notes that you had a boyfriend who you lost your virginity to back in high school, but the things you’ve done with him were limited.

“So you went down on him but he didn’t do the same?” Ji-ah hisses with a head shake. “This is why I’m a lesbian now.”

 Ji-ah had heard you speak of your past sexual adventures and needless to say, there wasn’t any adventure. Or excitement.

“You need to live a little.” Ji-ah exclaims. “Luckily for you, you and I are going to be best friends.”

Your eyes widen at her words. You never had a best friend, as sad as it was.

“And I can teach you the in’s and out’s of sex.” Ji-ah places both hands on your shoulders. 

Jungkook opened every door in sight, not bothering to apologize if someone was behind it enjoying their privacy. You were gone and he had not seen you for close to an hour. You were obviously drunk - and already being an inexperienced, shy and naive person, you were bound to be taken advantage of. You were exposed to this world and if anything happened to you, he’d be ridden with guilt.

Jungkook pushes open another door and sighs in relief before knitting his brows. 

Ji-ah and you were both seated on the floor of the large bathroom, lips placed upon one another.

“Are you two making out?” Jungkook asks, genuinely questioning. He didn’t know you were into women, yet Ji-ah also had a habit of having women in her grasp that never went that way.

You turn several shades of red and Ji-ah only giggles. 

“I was teaching Y/N how to kiss.” Ji-ah declares. “Can you believe such a hot piece of ass has never had a good sexual experience?”

“J-Ji-ah!” you hiss. You were already embarrassed upon having Jungkook find you in such a position. You were positive that he thought you were nothing but a loser that hasn’t experienced the basic life like they had.

Jungkook flickers his eyes between you and Ji-ah. He was glad you’re okay and not (seemingly) taken advantage of. You were safe with Ji-ah and now he and you could go home before your mother found out. 

“Good girl.” Jungkook places a hand for you to take. “Let’s go home before mother dearest comes searching for you.”

Ji-ah frowns. 

“You have hundreds of girls here to kiss, Ji.” Jungkook rolls his eyes once he helps you up from the bathroom floor. 

“I was just helping out your sister.” Ji-ah scoffs. “You men could never satisfy a woman like a woman can.”

You wish Ji-ah would shut up. Jungkook didn’t need to know anything else about your sex life - or lack of.

Jungkook snickers at Ji-ah, but he turns and takes a step out the door. “Step-sister.” was all he responded to her.

You and Jungkook stumble through the door. Your mother was asleep still and that was good - not like she would have noticed. She occupied the opposite end of the estate and you and she didn’t speak unless it was necessary. Still, your anxiety of her finding out lingered on your sober mind and only when you began to drink was when you felt safe.

Jungkook opens up the freezer and takes out a large tub of ice cream. He grasps two spoons from the cupboard and makes his way towards you. Opening it, he doesn’t hesitate in digging his spoon in and downing it.

“Did you have fun?” Jungkook asks after the third scoff of ice-cream. 

You nod your head, humming when the cold sweet reaches your throat. “It was so much fun. I don’t really remember it all.” you scoff. It hasn’t even been a day yet and your mind is already hazy.

Jungkook chuckles. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and Ji-ah and her words. You didn’t look like the type to have sexual adventures - not like Ji-ah at least. But now he finds himself wondering what you did experience - he cannot imagine seeing you in such a way. You, a shy girl who blushes at everything and has to ask mother dearest for permission for nearly everything.

“What would mother dearest think if she found out you snuck out?”

“She’d kill me.” you respond without missing a beat. Of course not literally, but her wrath would be insane. It would bring out her disappointment in you and that’s not what you desired to experience.

“I see.” Jungkook places the spoon of ice cream in his mouth and swallows. “What if I told her?”

You freeze in your spot, eyes slowly lifting to Jungkook.

Your breath hitches.

“What?” you murmur.

“What if I told her you snuck out and got drunk?” Jungkook questions, voice deep and serious. You feel your heart beat outside your chest. 

“Why would you?”

You were beginning to think that Jungkook and you could form a friendship. That the two of you could be close as he and his friends were, that maybe even his friends would soon be yours.

But that’s not what Jungkook wanted - that was never his intention.

Was his intentions were to trick you into sneaking out so he could blackmail you? To publicly embarrass you to your mother to see what she would do to you.

“I won’t tell your mother. But you’d be indebted to me.” Jungkook eats the sweet without hesitation. “And all debts must be paid in full.” says Jungkook with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He wouldn't tell your mother of you going against her wishes and sneaking out if you allowed him to have you the way he desired.

Of course, Jungkook wasn’t an asshole. He wouldn’t take advantage of you in the slightest - but he wanted you to live. He wanted to see the same woman he saw last night; the woman who laughed and danced without looking over her shoulders.

Jungkook also had no plans on telling your mother anything, but in order to see the you he saw a few hours prior, he would hold this “debt” over your head.

You inhale, dropping your spoon. Was Jungkook blackmailing you?

“I-I-”

”I want you to have fun and be a normal young adult. Come to more parties with me. Hang out with my friends and I. Stand up to mother dearest.” Jungkook explains. He didn’t need you thinking he wanted you to offer yourself to him in exchange for loyalty. “Live your own life the way you want to and not the way she does.”

You cross your arms, ears ringing as they replayed his words over and over again. 

You enjoyed your time at the party. Jungkook’s friends were good people and Ji-ah appeared genuine and true to herself. For the first time, you felt content with going somewhere not having to mingle and social climb - to just be yourself and have fun.

“What do you say, good girl?” Jungkook raises a brow. “I know you had fun tonight. There’s always something to do.”

You slowly exhaled the breath you were holding. Jungkook’s words were convincing and he didn’t seem to be a bad person.

You nod your head in agreement and it causes Jungkook to smile. He nods his head. “Good. Starting first thing tomorrow.” he drops his spoon and claps his hand. “You should drink some water and get some rest. You might have a hang-over tomorrow.”

A hangover was correct. You woke up with your head pounding. Details of the night before replay in your head - the little you remembered. You decided that a hot shower would have to do the trick before you swallowed any medication. You were a mess, dried up saliva on your cheeks and your eyes were puffy. Your hair was a mess, appearing more like a bird's nest than anything.

The water was hot against your skin and it was exactly what you needed. Steam surrounds the bathroom and you begin to hum low to yourself as you lather your skin with body wash.

“Good girl.”

You yelp loudly at the words. Your eyes open to find Jungkook outside the shower - a standing shower with see-through doors. You go to hide your body, but there isn’t much to hide without a towel or curtain.

Jungkook is shirtless, arms crossed over his bare chest as his eyes rake your body.

“J-J-”

Jungkook makes his way closer to you and you feel yourself ready to die. He opens the door to the shower and pushes himself inside. He takes off the sweats he wore along with his underwear and throws them aside.

You push yourself away from him, your back hitting the cold stonewall of the shower. 

“You’re such a beautiful, good girl.” Jungkook’s words murmur. He comes closer, his body getting just as wet as yours. “Such an innocent girl. Tell me, are Ji-ah’s words true?”

Jungkook’s hands reach out to you. He places both of them onto your shoulders, his chest against yours. He’s close, so close that you could feel the vibrations of his chest inhaling and exhaling. 

“I…” your throat tightens at the closeness.

“Have you ever had an orgasm, good girl?” Jungkook asks you. “Has a man ever made you cum so hard you screamed and begged them to stop?”

Jungkook’s words are dirty. You feel hot being so close to the naked man. Jungkook’s hands begin to travel down, engulfing your bare breast. His thumbs play with your nipples as his palms grope them.

“Such lovely nipples.” Jungkook hums. “You have such a slutty body. Good girls like you always have the sluttiest bodies.”

Jungkook brings a nipple into his mouth and sucks. You moan out, the feeling of his teeth tugging at your nipple sends shockwaves through your body.

Jungkook is moaning now. His left hand lowers to between your legs, feeling your throbbing clit. He rubs at it at an alarming pace, but you don’t tell him to stop. You never felt a sensation like this before, you swear you can explode.

“Good girl.” Jungkook hisses, his fingers rubbing your clit harder. “My good girl. Say it.”

“Your good girl.” you moan out, eyes snapping close at the feeling. 

“Good girl.”

Good girl.

Good girl.

“Good girl!”

You snap your eyes open, jolting out of your slumber.

Jungkook’s eyes are wider at the sudden outburst.

Your throat is dry, your head is pounding and you feel a sticky feeling between your legs.

Jungkook is holding a glass of water in his hands and a bottle of medication in another. He places them down on your nightstand. 

“I tried knocking to wake you.” Jungkook says. “But you weren’t awake. You were tossing and turning when I walked in.”

You cough. 

DId Jungkook hear you and your wet dream of him?

You felt sick to your stomach. You were a slut - an idiot slut to have such a dream of a man you barely know. Your soon to be step-brother at that. 

“Thank you.” you murmur quietly to Jungkook. You take the water in your hands, trembling with nervousness.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook questions. “Did you have a bad dream?”

You wanted to laugh. Your dream was a bad one - as bad as a wet dream can be.

“Something like that.” you say after you take the pills. “I feel like I've been ran over by a truck.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Hangovers are always like that.” he places a hand on your forehead and you freeze. “Breakfast should cure your hangover. Ji-ah is coming over, too.”

Ji-ah. You remember the tall beauty of a friend Jungkook had.

“Maybe you and her can make out again.” Jungkook teases.

You widen your eyes in horror.

“Kidding!” Jungkook laughs, eyes squinting as he does so. “I’ll let you freshen up for breakfast.”

Jungkook makes his way out of your bedroom, but he stops at the doorway. “You sure you’re okay, good girl?” he asks you. 

You nod your head, trying to smile for reassurance but you’re sure it came out more of a grimace. 

Jungkook nods his head back at you before walking out of your room and closing the door behind him. He would pretend - for your sake - to not know that you were moaning in your sleep, calling yourself his good girl.

Ji-ah lifts up a shirt to show you. “This is cute.” she says and you nod.

Two months had passed since your mother and you had moved in with Joon-sik and Jungkook. You had come out of your shell more when it came to Jook-sik. He was different from your mother’s last partners. He engaged more in your and Jungkook’s lives. He assured that there was a family dinner at least once a week where he’d often asked questions.

Ji-ah and you had become closer and you saw her nearly everyday after meeting her at the party. She would come over most nights and the two of you would talk and laugh for hours until Jungkook would infiltrate the scene.

Jungkook and you had also become close as friends. Most mornings you would come out of your room and stroll down the hall to find Jungkook cooking in the large kitchen. He would have two plates - sometimes more if his friends would be attending - set down on the island. If you weren’t eating dinner with your parents, he would bring in take-out and the pair of you would binge watch whatever tv show was on.

You tried to keep your mind at bay when it came to Jungkook. You couldn’t control your dreams, and the wet dream you had two months prior wasn’t the only one. It disgusts you each time you wake up sweating with the familiar wetness between your legs. Jungkook was attractive, of course, and that frightens you. There were too many times in which Jungkook would walk around without a shirt and it takes everything in you to not stare too long.

“Hello, earth to Y/N.” Ji-ah waves a hand in front of your face. “You’re spacing out.”

You blink a few times. Ji-ah has a handful of clothes in her arms - dresses, shirts with graphic designs and some crop tops and even the shortest shorts and skirts you’ve ever seen.

“Try these on.” Ji-ah pushes the clothing into your arms. 

“I thought these were for you?” you exclaim. 

Ji-ah shrugs. “We need to change up your wardrobe, Y/N. You promised.”

You sigh. You did promise that Ji-ah could add a few pieces to your wardrobe, but the amount of clothes she threw into your arms were more than a few pieces.

You and Ji-ah are the only two in the dressing room. You try on a few pieces, all in which Ji-ah forced you to do a walk and turn so she could see it fully. 

You were growing exhausted after 30 minutes of trying clothes on. You took a seat inside the dressing room to take a quick break.

Jungkook takes a seat besides Ji-ah who’s gently tapping her foot waiting for you to come out. 

“Jimin went to grab our tickets.” Jungkook says. “Are you two still shopping?”

Ji-ah nods. Her stomach churns and she stops tapping her foot to rub her stomach. “Shopping always makes me hungry.”

Jungkook snorts. “Tae’s at the food court. If you go now you’ll make it before he leaves the line.”

Ji-ah's eyes widen and within seconds she’s strutting out of the fitting room and out of the clothing store.

The door opens and Jungkook's eyes trail up to greet you. 

“I think this skirt is too short.”

Jungkook hums, you have not noticed him yet. Your eyes were in the mirror. You wore a skirt - a short fitted skirt that hugs your body. Your shirt was just as tight fitted with a deep v-neck cut.

“What do you think about-”

You turn and freeze seeing Jungkook behind you where Ji-ah should be.

“I think it’s nice.” Jungkook responds. “Are you getting it?”

You feel small under Jungkook’s gaze. 

“I-I’m not sure.” you respond. “It’s too…”

“Tight?” Jungkook snorts. “Mother dearest wouldn’t approve. More reason to get it.”

Jungkook stands from the chair in the fitted room. 

“I don’t think I have anywhere to wear the clothes Ji-ah gave me to try on.” you admit with a short laugh.

Jungkook tilts his head. “I wasn’t going to go,” he begins. “But there’s a group performing at a club. You can wear it there.”

You widen your eyes slightly. “I never-”

“Been to a club.” Jungkook finishes your sentence. “Good girls don’t go to clubs.” he teases. 

You rolled your eyes but you were offended. 

“I guess I can go.” you say. “Are you sure it isn’t…to much?”

You didn’t want to be an odd one out. You weren’t one to show the amount of skin, and though your mind told you that you looked hot, you still felt conscious. 

You turn to look back into the mirror.

“You women do that a lot. You over analyze everything until you no longer think you look good.”

Jungkook is behind you now. Your eyes connect with his in the mirror.

“Do you think you look good?” Jungkook questions.

You nod slightly. 

“Say it.” Jungkook quips. “Gain that confidence. Say “I look good.”

“I look good.” you repeat robotically and Jungkook shakes his head. 

“Say it like you mean it!”

“I look good.” you repeat, a little louder. 

“Good. How good do you look?”

You inhale deeply before exhaling. 

“I look…”

Jungkook waits for your response. 

“...hot?”

“Is that a question?”

“I look hot!”

You do, Jungkook notes, but he doesn’t want to have his eyes linger on your breast in the reflection.

Jungkook's lips twitch in amusement. “That’s it.” he nods. “That’s my good girl.”

Those words cause you to freeze once more. Your eyes connect to Jungkook’s through the mirror. He doesn’t speak, and neither do you, but the both of you know the power of his words.

You gulp, flashbacks of the wet dream of you and Jungkook in the shower.

Jungkook doesn’t miss the way your thighs clench at his words, but he’s unsure what he’s doing. He didn't forget you the following morning when he came into your room. You were a moaning mess, hair disheveled and voice low and raspy. “I’m your good girl.” replays in his mind over and over again that day - so much so that he had to pump his cock in the shower to just get his cock to deflate.

Ji-ah enters the fitting room loudly, munching on a large pretzel.

Jungkook and you push away from one another.

Ji-ah watches with a raised brow as neither of you say anything. You enter the fitting room and Jungkook excuses himself.

Ji-ah’s mind wanders and slowly, a smirk forms onto her lips, ideas flashing into her mind.

Jungkook downs the shot effortlessly, eyes wandering to the club entrance. You and Ji-ah had yet to arrive and the majority of the group was already tipsy. The music is loud and the lights are flashing non-stop. He sits at the bar with Namjoon and Hoseok, both men chatting amongst the group.

“Waiting for someone?”

The voice belongs to Taehyung that is shouting over the loud music. He leans against the bar, eyes following Jungkook’s line of vision. “Maybe that sister of yours?”

Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Step-sister.”

Taehyung scoffs. “You say that a lot.” he notes. “Would it be weird if you did call her your sister?”

Yes, it would be-  because Jungkook doesn’t constantly think about any of his family members like he does with you. You being his sister would mean he couldn’t jack off to the thought of you calling yourself his good girl anymore - no matter how creepy it sounded; because technically, you were asleep. His eyes couldn’t linger on the way you’d lick your lips or the slight way your breast would bounce when you’d laugh.

Damn, Jungkook was a creep. But it was only justified (slightly) because he doesn't consider you his sister.

“I met her three months ago.” Jungkook shrugs. 

“True. But Y/N is always around.” Taehyung adds. “You two hit it off quickly.”

Jungkook agrees. You were slowly coming out of your shell and made friends with his friends. Ji-ah and you were growing closer by the day and he was thankful that you didn’t shut down completely with her outgoing personality. 

But, that’s all you and Jungkook could be - friends. He couldn’t allow his desires and intrusive thoughts to take advantage of your shyness and naivety. 

“So you don’t think of her as a sister?” Taehyung leans closer to Jungkook. “So it would be okay for me to…dance with her?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond for a moment. His eyes glance at Taehyung's face that’s illuminating in the light. His eyebrows are raised, waiting for an answer.

Jungkook lowly hums to himself. Was Taehyung interested in you? Were you interested in Taehyung? Did Taehyung ever make advances on you before?

“Are you asking for my permission?” Jungkook questions. “Y/N is her own person.”

Taehyung nods. “She is. But she is also someone who you introduced to us in the guise of her being your sister.”

“Step-sister.” Jungkook murmurs.

“Yes.” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “So as your friend and she as your step-sister. Would you be alright if I danced with her?”

Jungkook wanted to say no. That you were far too innocent for the likes of a Taehyung - someone who had girls in his bedroom nearly every night and never settled for a relationship. But that would make him a hypocrite. He also brought home women from time to time and rarely thought of seeing any of them as more than a simple fuck.

“Do as you please.” Jungkook shrugs and Taehyung offers him a boxy smile.

“I’m going to talk to her now.” Taehyung points towards the door and Jungkook's throat tightens. He instantly regrets his decision to be nonchalant.

Ji-ah and you had just gotten through the door. You sported a short tight dress, stropping at your thighs. It was black as were the heels you were wearing that tied perfectly up your calf. Your hair was in a ponytail, brushed back so smooth that no flyaway would be present.

Jungkook feels his heart tighten when your eyes catch him and soon you’re strutting over to him.

You don’t make it. Taehyung has gotten to you first.

“What do you think?”

“Huh?”

Ji-ah has taken a seat beside Jungkook and had been for the last ten minutes. She watched as Jungkook seethed as he stared at a laughing Taehyung who tried to get you to dance with him.

“Does she look hot?” Ji-ah wiggles her eyebrows. “Took me almost an hour to get her into that dress.”

Jungkook looks away from you. “Good. I guess.”

Ji-ah sighs. “It’s okay to admit you’re attracted to her.”

Jungkook’s head snaps to Ji-ah. “Who-”

“I’m not an idiot.” Ji-ah interrupts with a wave of her hand. “The sexual tension between the two of you are killing me. I say fuck and get it over with.”

Ji-ah was always blunt.

“You’re insane.” Jungkook hisses.

“You’re insane for letting Taehyung beat you to it.” Ji-ah retorts. “But what do I know?”

Jungkook bites his lip. What did Ji-ah know? You surely talked to her about your former sex life. Have you talked to her about him? Did you have the same intrusive thoughts as he did?

“What do you know?” Jungkook caves and Ji-ah smirks. 

“I know enough.” Ji-ah shrugs.

Jungkook seethes. 

“I know our little good girl thinks you’re hot.”

Jungkooks eyes widened.

“But she’s far too afraid to act on her attraction.” Ji-ah groans. “I’m sure she thinks it’s taboo.”

Jungkook swallows. You thought he was hot - that was a start. 

“That’s all you’re getting from me. Girl code.” Ji-ah stands from her bar stool. “Jimin and Taehyung are coming. Jimin’s fucked. I’m not going to be on babysitting duty.”

Jungkook groans as a drunk Jimin sits beside him, slurring his words. 

“It’s my turn, isn’t it?” Taehyung questions, a look of sorrow on his face. Taehyung was put to be the “sober” one of the group tonight. Jimin was already drunk and Hoseok was close behind him. “I’m taking him home and coming back.” he curses beneath his breath at his unlucky night.

But for Jungkook, this was his lucky night. Taehyung was gone and now you wouldn’t be another one of the women who he brought into his bedroom.

“Good girl.” your ears catch the voice instantly, even with the loud music. “I’m glad to see you’ve made it.”

Jungkook is behind you when you turn. You smile and nod your head. “Where has everyone gone?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Jimin is done for the night and Hoseok is on his way there.” he snorts. “Ji-ah is probably looking for someone to makeout with as we speak.”

Jungkook comes closer to wrap and arm around your shoulders. “Shot?”

Ji-ah claps her hands together, Taehyung and Jimin huddled in the corner with her. “Okay, the first part of the plan is in motion.”

Jimin nods as does Taehyung. 

“I’m not really sure what the plan is.” Jimin adds. All he recalls is Ji-ah texting him to act drunk and he’s done that part thus far.

“Ugh, you didn’t fill him in?!” Ji-ah snaps at Taehyung.

“I thought you were doing that!” Taehyung snaps back. “This was your plan after all.”

Ji-ah sighs in frustration. It was her plan - to get you and Jungkook to hook up. If anything else blossomed after that - like a relationship or even a “friends with benefit” (or step-siblings with benefits) - then it’d be a win-win for the both of you. Jungkook was attracted to you, even if he would never admit it aloud. You had already admitted your attraction towards Jungkook, but your shyness and obliviousness would get you nowhere without her help.

“She’s trying to get Kook and Y/N to fuck.” Taehyung explains vulgarly. Jimin widens his eyes. “Oh.” he hums. “Is that why he was giving you death eyes earlier?”

Taehyung nods with a cackle.

“Idiots to lovers.” Ji-ah shrugs her shoulders. “They’ll never get there without my help, of course.”

“Are you sure we’re not just interfering?” Jimin questions. “I mean, they are step-siblings who have to see their parents in a relationship.”

Ji-ah shrugs. “They aren’t related nor were they raised together as brother and sister. I say they fuck and get it out of their systems.”

Jimin nods in agreement.

“What’s the other part of the plan?” 

Plan B - get both parties tipsy - not drunk. You were looser when you had a little bit of alcohol in you. You danced freely like no one was watching and you were more social. Jungkook was already there but you needed to match his cool.

Ji-ah poured you two shots after shots until she noticed your flushed cheeks and uncontrollable laughter. That was her cue to disappear again into the corner of the room with Taehyung and Jimin. 

“I think Hobi and Joon are actually drunk.” Jimin notes, eyes flickering to the dance floor where both men were dancing - Namjoon appearing more disorientated.

“Shit.” Taehyung hisses. “I’m on sober duty.”

“Plan B is in fruition!” Ji-ah cheers. “We can leave them be. If anything happens tonight I can pry it out of Y/N tomorrow.”

“So that’s it?” Jimin ponders aloud. 

“Yes. We let them do them for now.” Ji-ah takes her phone out of her crossbody purse. “I’m telling them we’re leaving to take the drunklings home. The rest is up to them.”

“I hope they’ll be okay.” you say to Jungkook after receiving the message from Ji-ah.

“They do this all the time. Get drunk and act a fool.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “I’m sorry if this isn’t the night you expected.”

You shake your head. “I’m having fun!” you declare. Your eyes wander to the sea of people dancing without a care. 

“You should go dance.” Jungkook says. “No one is going to be watching you like your mind tells you.”

You don’t feel nervous as you once were. Your body is hot thanks to the alcohol in your system and your mind is repeating Jungkook’s words. 

“Dance with me.” you say, getting up from the stool and making your way towards the dance floor. 

Jungkook follows you. The flashing lights illuminate your skin and he finds it difficult to take his eyes away from you. The music is energetic and it’s easy for you to follow the floor of everyone else's dance moves. 

It was fun, you note, dancing with Jungkook. The both of you laughed as you nearly tripped on your heels and he had to catch you swiftly. You would take your hands in his and bring him closer, especially when the area became stuffed with even more people - all dancing carefree.

You’re close to Jungkook, so close that you can smell his cologne mixed with another smell.

“You smoke?” you shout at him and Jungkook nods hesitantly. 

Jungkook had smoked before he came alongside Taehyung. 

“Have you ever smoked?” Jungkook leans down to say into your ears, but he knows the answer. Mother dearest would never allow you to smoke.

You shake your head and suddenly, Jungkook’s mind wanders. “Do you want to try?”

You watch with curious eyes as Jungkook rolls the greenish purple substance onto the small paper. You and he sit on his bed as he does so. The club was long forgotten about and there wasn’t a need to stay when you were offered to smoke - it felt scandalous in a way.

Jungkook brings out a lighter and passes you what he had just rolled.  “You can try first.” he says, a hint of mischief in his voice.

You’re nervous, palms sweaty and heart pounding with excitement. Jungkook places the joint between your lips and lights it. “Inhale.”

You do as you’re told, and suddenly you’re a coughing mess.

Jungkook cackles. “First time is rough for everyone.” he assures.

Your throat burns and it’s difficult to stop yourself from coughing. Luckily, Jungkook was preparing for this. He recalls his first time smoking and how he was sure he was going to die. 

Jungkook hands you a water bottle that sat on his bedside table. You down the water hastily, moaning in satisfaction as it heals your throat.

“Better?”

You nod, but your throat burns still. But you’re glad Jungkook allows you to smoke with him. You watch as Jungkook smokes, inhaling the smoke and exhaling it with ease - no coughing or choking like you had. You wonder just how long he’s been smoking for but you don’t ask. 

“Want to try again?” Jungkook passes you the joint, raising his eyebrows. “This time try not to inhale so hard.”

You do as you’re told and you’re surprised to find that you do not end up coughing as hard as you had.

Jungkook and you take turns smoking until the joint is gone. You lay beside him on his bed, feeling euphoric and free. Your anxiety is long gone and you remain relaxed. This feeling was not the feeling you thought being high was like - and you were certain you’d want to feel this way again. 

The bed shifts and you’re finally remembering where you’re at. You turn on your side to face Jungkook, who had already turned to face you. 

Jungkook studies your face. Your eyes are slightly red and low. You look tired and ready to sleep at any moment but your eyes blink constantly to not do so. You were having fun - even if it was just relaxing and not doing anything in particular. 

“I’ll have to give you a new nickname.” Jungkook murmurs.  “I’ve corrupted your good girl image ever since we became friends.”

You giggle. “I can still be your good girl.” you say without a thought. It goes past you, but not Jungkook. 

“My good girl.” Jungkook hums. He likes how it sounds, but he’ll blame his intoxication for now. “Tell me…”

You feel a hand upon your cheek and your eyes open slightly wider. 

“Is what Ji-ah said true?”

You’re unsure which part Jungkook is speaking of. You’re said a lot to Ji-ah and only could imagine what she’s told him.

“That you’ve never had a good sexual experience?”

You mentally curse at Ji-ah. You almost forgot that she had told him at Taehyung’s party. 

You slowly nod your head. There wasn’t a point in denying it. It had to be obvious - hell you never touched a drink until recently. How would you know how to pleasure a man the correct way or had a great sexual experience?

Jungkook’s thumb traces the outline of your lips. He’s silent for a few moments, possibly pondering on his next statement. 

“Has anyone ever touched you?”

You release a shaky breath. You want to pinch yourself to see if this was another dream, but you’re positive that you have not fallen asleep.

You shake your head. 

Jungkook halts outlining your lips with his thumb.

“So you don’t know what cumming feels like.” Jungkook shakes his head. “Ashame.”

You and Jungkook are close - so close that you can hear him breathing. 

“Have you ever made someone cum?”

Jungkook likes you like this. You aren’t shying away from him in embarrassment.

“Of course.”

You lick your lips. You’re unsure where the two of you were going with this. This isn’t a conversation you should be having with him, but it’s as though you’re paralyzed.

“How’d you do it?”

Jungkook leans closer. “I could show you.”

You gasp lightly. The room is completely silent and still. Jungkook and you are even closer, nose touching as you and he speak. 

“Push me away.” Jungkook commands suddenly. “If you’re uncomfortable…push me away.”

Jungkook wasn’t sober, but he was coherent enough to know right from wrong. You were clearly under the influence more than him and the last thing he wanted was for you to feel as though he was taking advantage of you.

Your hand clenches Jungkook's shirt and you push your lips upon his. It causes Jungkook to flinch as if you burn him, but he doesn’t dwell on his shock. He deepens the kiss, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. He can taste a bit of alcohol on you, but he doesn’t mind. 

The kiss becomes hotter - more dominant. Your tongue dances along his and you can say you feel content. This feeling was euphoric and unreal - a feeling you never wish to end.

“Let me make you cum.” Jungkook heaves when the kiss is broken. His tone is needy - he was begging you. He wanted to feel you, to taste you. He desired to watch you cum undone because of him - for your first time.

“O-Okay.” you agree.

Jungkook and you continue to kiss. His hands trail lower and lower until they reach the hem of your dress. Your dress is already dangerously short so it doesn’t take him long to reach his hand upward inside your dress and feel the cotton underwear you wore.

“My good girl’s already wet.” Jungkook breaks the kiss to moan into your ear. Your underwear was soaked through and he hadn’t gotten the chance to touch you the way he wanted yet.

Jungkook rubs his fingers against your clothed clit. He needed you to be comfortable first.

You moan, buckling your hips against his fingers. You bite your lip just as Jungkook trails kisses along your neck. 

“I’m going to make you cum.” Jungkook nibbles into your neck, biting and sucking gently on the skin.

You feel Jungkook’s fingers dip into your underwear. He moans along with you when he touches your wet clit - how could you be this wet already? He shivers. The thought of you being this wet excites him. He ponders how it would feel if his cock rubbed against your bare pussy - how it’d feel if he fucked you into oblivion. 

Jungkook’s fingers stroked your clit. He was becoming rougher with how he handled you. His free hand yanks your dress down so that a breast could fly it. He catches a nipple into his mouth, suckling on it like a madman. He had a desire to do so since you strolled into the club with such slutty attire.

You arch your back at the sensation. Jungkook showed your nipple no mercy, nor did he show any to your clit. He rubbed at a ferocious pace and sucked and nibbled on your breast. The scene before you felt dirty and taboo - but you didn’t want him to stop. You had never felt so great in your life.

“I’m going to fuck my good girl with my fingers.” Jungkook grunts, fingers already dipping inside of you. “You’re so wet that they fall easily inside.”

Jungkook’s dirty words mixed with his deep voice is music to your ears.

Jungkook pumps his fingers inside of you. Your pussy squelches as he does so, but he doesn’t mind. The only thing on his mind right now is getting you to cum all over him.

“How does my good girl feel?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper.

“I…I feel good.” you moan out. Your stomach feels tight and you feel as if you’re about to explode. “I feel something coming.”

Jungkook chuckled darkly. “You’re about to cum.” he says to you. “Let go. Cum all over me, good girl.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. You’re breathing heavily and Jungkook shows no signs of stopping until you’re cumming.

You do, a gush of liquid squirting out and onto Jungkook’s wrist and bed. You’re jolting, cursing lowly under your breath all the while attempting to catch your breath. 

Jungkook revels in the sight of you squirting all over him. You were truly a beautiful sight - so innocent and new to this life. He wants to make you cum over and over again - but there will always be a next time.

Jungkook removes his fingers from inside of you and brings them into his mouth. He licks them and sighs, wishing he could sink his cock into you right now.

“Let’s go to sleep.” you hear Jungkook say. “My good girl looks tired after cumming so hard.” he teases but you don’t have it in you to deny the slumber that consumes you.

[dangerous-yam-fries]

Male Naga x GN!Reader - NSFW

Asks and Suggestions are open and encouraged!

Warnings: prehensile dicks, hemipenes (two dicks), kidnapping, MILD drowning???, stalking, envenomation, double dick handjob, MINORS LEAVE GET OUT OF HERE!

You had been researching a multitude of lower classifications from the Chordata phylum, eventually becoming a member of a research term for the study of Serpentes-Homo Sapiens. Snake people, Naga, whatever you want to call them. Even if you didn’t find the famed Naga, you were excited to be in a different country surrounded by foreign life, so you bore with the bugs and humidity.

You were wading through a stagnant, mucky pond in your thick plastic overalls, while sweat slicked the inside of your clothes, mud and pond scum on the outside.

At first, you were simply gathering water samples, but that quickly turned into more of a fun, exploratory session as you walked in the water. It came up to about the middle of your thigh, so it wasn’t too deep, just a little mushy under your feet. You made sure to wear water shoes, they fit comfortably, but you could still feel rocks and pebbles poking the pads of your feet as you walked slowly into the middle of the pond.

“Well, aren’t you cool…” You mumble as you inspect a larva of a diving beetle. It looks like a grub with thin back plates and stringy antenna as the water around it clears up. It quickly retreats into the depths of the pond, leaving you to wander through the water. You decided to catalog the different fauna and flora, soon getting distracted and losing track of time.

You were so enthralled with the beauty and complexity of the biome that you didn’t notice you were being watched. Stalked, even.

Hyacinth laid eyes on the first day you landed at the camp, and for some reason, he simply couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were captivating, the way your sweat glistened on your skin like morning dew, how your face flushed under the sun, making your blemishes, scars, and freckles look like stars.

But he could never look into your eyes, for you’d surely notice him then. For weeks, he was content to merely watch your fluttering figure, but he soon hungered for more. So he waited until you were utterly alone, too far away from your fellow researchers for them to help you. And here you were, far away from any human life, and utterly distracted, sneaking up on you was far too easy.

You were suddenly pulled under the water, it wasn’t deep, but it was certainly enough to drown in. You held your breath as you kicked and struggled against whatever was trying to kill you, but it was no use. Opening your mouth, you felt water fill your throat and spill into your lungs, your eyes stung and your body felt like it was on fire. The muddy water soon turned black as you lost all consciousness.

Hyacinth was absolutely smitten with you by the time he made it to his home, he relished in forcing the water out of your lungs, it only gave him an excuse to kiss you. After multiple hours entrapped in Hyacinth’s warm tail you coughed and sputtered awake.

“Mmm pet~” Your body jolted awake at the sound of a person’s voice, your heart beating rapidly when you lay your eyes upon the owner of said voice. You choke when you see him. A real, live Naga, the very creature you had been searching so hard for.

“Awake, are we?” He smiles and you see a flicker of his tongue dart out of his mouth and caress your cheek. “Don’t be scared, pet. I won’t hurt you.” His face is right up against yours, and you find yourself staring straight into his eyes.

“Beautiful…” You hadn’t even remembered the events that transpired prior to your fainting as you swooned at his eyes. The scleras were reminiscent of opal, with purples, pinks and greens wrinkled together in the shiny orb. His pupils were two black slits as sharp as glass.

He found himself blushing at that, you thought he was beautiful! A joyous pure erupts in his throat as his forked tongue flicks over your lips. “W-who are you? Uh… I’m (Name), I, I think?” You mumbled, suddenly out of breath with your mind going a mile a minute.

“Hyacinth…” His tongue licked at your lips, his eyes not breaking from yours, even when they started to water. Your eyes were even more dazzling than he thought they would be. They looked as bright as the sun, practically glowing, or maybe that was the light of the fire… “I am Hyacinth”

“Hyacinth… like the flower?” You inquired, your breath hitching for no apparent reason. Your mind didn’t even register the intimate proximity, or his tongue gliding upon your lips, occasionally licking at your tongue and probing into your mouth.

“Like the flower.” He smiled, he was so happy to have you here, in his arms, wrapped in his tail, and so very receptive to his… courting. You glanced around you, breaking eye contact with Hyacinth to gaze at his tail. It was so purple, with scales like fuchsia petals, shining in the fires light like fireflies. He really looked so beautiful. His skin was a handsome tan, painted with freckles and scars and burns, like cartography on a worn map.

“M-may I, touch you?” You hesitantly reached your dominant hand out, just barely ghosting over his shoulder.

He trilled at this, taking your hands and placing them on his chest, cupping his sinewy breasts. “You may touch anywhere you please, (Name).” He drawled out your name, savoring the sound on his tongue.

You shivered, and squeezed his chest slightly, blushing at the way he flushed underneath you. Your hands slid to his shoulders, rubbing the freckles and scars on the rosy brown skin, your heart was pounding out of your rib cage by the time you laid your hands on his tail.

Your breath hitched, eyes widening when you touch the very end of his tail, the coil of scales coming to a bumpy end. “You’re so beautiful… Hyacinth.” You gulped, and caressed the tip, rubbing the scaly tail with your fingers, stopping when you heard him let out a strangled sound. “Is everything alright?” You ask worriedly, but still not letting go of his tail.

Hyacinth’s breath is labored, his eyes narrow, but not in malice. “J-just a little, sensitive there, pet.” He still manages a smile, glistening fangs shining in his mouth. Your face goes red as you become aware of a wet mess beneath you, two pinkish-purple tips peeking out of a glistening genital slit.

“O-oh, I’m, I’m sorry.” You gulp, and after a moment of self reflection, your mind hazy with scientific desire, you ask a confirming question. “I, I may touch, anywhere, right?” You practically drool at the sight of his twitching sex as your fingers run along his slit and spread it, letting loose his two cocks.

“Not waiting for an answer…” He said, less of a question and more of an observation as your fingers glide along the length of his dick, tracing the lithe veins as they curl around your hand. “They’re prehensile…” He gets bolder, rocking into your touch, his hands making quick work of your own clothes.

You don’t say anything as you play with them, gripping the bases and letting them wrap around your hands, thrusting in and out of them. Hyacinth moans and shudders just inches away from your face, muttering lewd phrases and dirty words, giving you quite a show.

“A little tighter, pet~ Your hands are so warm, I’m sure your insides are warmer~” He twitches and sighs as your hands clasp around his dicks even tighter, becoming slippery with slick and precum as you pump your hands slightly. “So, so good. More, faster, pet, please.” His voice is broken up and shaky, like music to your ears as he pants and moans. You comply, rubbing your hands on his prehensile cocks even faster, tighter, still pumping his lengths even after he paints your hands with cum.

“Ahhh~ p-pet, too much, slow down for me!” You try to stop but your hands move on their own, eyes tearing up with his as his nails dig into your bare waist. You stop your hands, not realizing how close he is to another orgasm as he bites into your shoulder, gasps racking his body.

Your tears fall as your eyes roll back, your body being pumped full of his venom. Choking, you can’t breathe, your throat seizing up, noticing this, Hyacinth kisses you roughly, forcing air down your lungs. Your brain activity is slowed, so you don’t even notice your body being lifted above his cocks and genital slit.

“It won’t hurt, pet.” He takes his lips away from yours, but only for a second as he continues helping you to breathe. Your hole tingles as he rubs his dicks against it, lathering it with his cum and slick before plunging a prehensile penis inside. “You are warm, pet~” His lips meet yours again, resuming the kiss.

One of his dicks thrusts in and out of your hole, curling against your most pleasurable parts, flaring at the entrance, giving your hole a good stretch. He drools and slobbers on your lips, his saliva dripping down your chin and his as he thrusts even faster. His other cock moves to caress your sex, rubbing it up and down and getting it wet with cum. It curls around your tip, squeezing and rubbing it mercilessly.

His cocks bully your sex, your body shaking from overstimulation even with the effects of his venom. It feels like you’re on fire, but unlike in the pond, it’s a pleasant burn, one that lights the fires of passion and lust as your insides constrict and tighten around his prehensile dick.

Your insides squeeze around him, your sex twitching against his dick as he ruts against it even faster, determined to deliver you a mind-shattering orgasm. You cum hard, getting the both of you even wetter, his dick squelching its cum inside of you as he reaches his own orgasm. He moans into your mouth, eyes locked with yours as he continues to hump your insides, eating up your sobs as overstimulation racks your brain.

You’ll have plenty of time to study him, especially his mating process. After all, the first session can take up to 75 hours. And he would make sure your hole milked him dry, daring not to spill a drop.

[asirensrage]

Unrepentant

Title: Unrepentant Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Rating: Explicit Pairing: Sano "Mikey" Manjiro x Fem!Reader, Bonten x Fem!Reader Word count: 3599 Warnings: Dark!fic. Dub-con. Wearing a collar and leash as punishment. Talk of ownership. Edging. Coercion. Public Sex. Swearing. Drug Use. Threats. Choking. Orgasm Denial. References to drug addiction. Unbeta'd. *warnings are not exhaustive*

Notes: I had the urge to write something while listening to Poison from Hazbin Hotel on repeat. This is the result. It is a dark fic. Consider yourself warned. Reader is not described in looks or size. Please let me know what you think. (It's one of the many fics/oneshots I have planned or started for TR lol.) Enjoy!

HEED THE WARNINGS

How did it come to this?

You’re kneeling at his feet, eyes on the ground as the bass of music in the club thumps in time with the headache in the back of your skull. It’s punishment. 

Not the headache. That’s the ache that comes with withdrawal, the same way your fingers twitch as you try to hold them in place. But the position you’re in. The collar tight around your neck that’s attached to a chain he holds. The tension is loose as if it’s not there, but you know if you even shift out of your position, you’ll feel it. 

Feet come to pause in front of you, clad in expensive shoes. You don’t move, don’t look to confirm your suspicion about who it is. 

“Look at you,” he coos. You can hear him clearly over the music, but it’s only when he bends down and tilts your head up to look at him, that you know you’re right. “You look like a fragile thing like this, doll. What’d you do to earn this?”

He knows. They all know. It’s just another test. Ran grins at you as you drop your eyes, knowing you can’t respond right now without permission. 

“Answer.” The man holding your chain demands, yanking it slightly in warning. 

You don’t flinch, don’t make a sound at the way it jars you. “I made a mistake,” you say, just loud enough that they both can hear you. 

Ran laughs at that. “Yeah, baby? A mistake?”

It was more than that. The reason Mikey collared you and kept you chained tonight at his feet was a lesson in humiliation and obedience. In a fit of sobriety, you had attempted to escape. You didn’t get far. 

“That what you’re calling it?” 

You look up at Ran. He looks as handsome as ever, but you know the truth of what’s behind his good looks. You know how much blood is on their hands. You nod and drop your eyes again. 

His hand grips your jaw tightly, fingers digging into your cheeks as he forces you to look up at him. “Such a pretty thing, baby. Open your mouth.” 

Fear sparks up your spine. You’re in public, even if it’s the VIP area of the club. There are others around. The hesitation makes Ran dig his fingers in tighter, pressing your cheeks against your teeth as he forces you to open your mouth. He leans in and lets a lob of spit fall from his mouth into yours. You swallow, taking the revulsion with it. He smirks, letting go of your jaw before he pats your cheek. He looks up to Mikey who has the chain you’re attached to wrapped around one of his hands. “Let me know when you’re done with her. She can keep the chain.” 

The worst part is that you can only blame yourself. This was a choice you made. Even if you didn’t know it would turn out this way. 

⛓️

It had been chance that led you to them. A bad day, week, year…it had all added up to the moment when you found yourself stumbling into a firm chest. You had dropped the paperwork you had been holding and could only watch helplessly as it fell into the rain. You were crying before you realized it, the dam of stress finally breaking. You kneel on the wet ground, tears falling and mixing with the rain that had started to soak into your skin.

He could have left you. He should have left you, but the stranger you ran into paused and bent down, helping you pick up the papers. He made some ill-timed joke about it not being that bad, and before you knew it, you were telling him about how this was going to get you fired. The admission that you were struggling to provide for your family. A younger sibling, a mother in the hospital…you were their last leg of survival. And it was ruined. 

Until he offered to help.

You should have run in the other direction and never looked back. 

⛓️

You hear his laugh first. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” Sanzu says, leaning against the chair behind you. You can practically feel the heat of his body against your back. It’s not surprising. The outfit you’re in can barely be called a dress. “Shit, Mikey…you like her like this? You look like you belong there, sweetheart,” Sanzu says. You ignore the jeering. He likes to get a reaction. 

“Maybe we should keep her like this all the time.” A foot nudges the side of your leg. Rindou. It wasn’t often the two of them were together, but it was a dangerous combination. Like the Haitani brothers together and in a competitive mood.

You try to ignore them, but then Rindou moves in front of you. He doesn’t bend down, but he slips his foot between your legs. You watch as he steps a bit closer before pressing the top of his foot up against you. You tremble, trying not to react as he purposefully tries to make you break, to make you beg, to do anything that counts as breaking Mikey’s rules tonight. You try to focus on your breathing instead of how he rubs his foot against you and how the laces on his shoes cause nearly enough friction on your clit through the lace of the underwear you wear. 

It’s torture trying to keep yourself from grinding down on it, seeking a release you know they can give you if they’re feeling generous.

Finally, he pulls back and you let out a shuddered breath.

“You must really be sorry,” Rindou says. 

A hand digs into your hair, pulling your head back until you’re looking up at Sanzu who’s staring down at you, cerulean eyes narrow in their glare. 

“Are you?” he demands. 

You nod quickly, tears prickling in your eyes at the pain of your hair being pulled with the motion. “It was a stupid mistake. I’ll be good!”

He drags a drag of whatever he’s smoking and leans down, blowing it in your face. The familiar scent of marijuana engulfs you and you breathe in quickly, chasing the tease of a high. Anything for an escape. “You better fucking hope so,” he says.  

⛓️

Kakucho offers you two things when you finally get out of the rain. He’ll smooth over the issues at your job, follow you and explain that the destroyed paperwork was his fault…or he’ll get you a job. One that will compensate you far better than anything you’ll do in an office that doesn’t appreciate you. He can help you protect your family, to give them a better life and better healthcare for your mother. 

You’re not stupid. You question his motives first. 

He shrugs. “Maybe I just can’t stand to see a pretty girl cry.” There’s something in his eyes that warns you, but you ignore it...and ask what the job entails.

⛓️

Mochi doesn’t kneel in front of you. 

He doesn’t do anything like trying to edge you or blow smoke in your face. Instead, he rests his hand on the top of your head as he speaks to Mikey. He stands in front of you, but in a way that feels more like he’s blocking you from the others. A small kindness. 

Until he bends down and gently tilts your head up to look at him. He looks at Mikey before offering you a sip of his drink. You agree instantly, letting him tilt it to your lips. “You look good like this, princess. But I prefer you unchained. Hope you learn this lesson. You try it again and one of us just might have to break something.” The drink spills over your lips, making you cough as you choke on the sudden increase of liquid. You bend forward before you can stop yourself, coughing harder. The collar tightens as the chain doesn’t give any further leeway. 

You hear someone laugh in the distance. You think it might be Sanzu but you ignore it, well aware of the pleasure they’re taking in your penance. Mikey had given you a choice when you were dragged back in front of him. Your life or your family’s. It was the same one that got you into this situation in the first place. Only this time, if you chose to leave them in the manner they picked, they’d go to your family and drag them deeper into the depths you were submerged in. Your mother was recovering. Your younger sibling has a future ahead of them. You couldn’t bury them in your regrets and bad decisions. You made the same choice you did last time. The same one you’ll make every time. 

You go back to your kneeling position once you can breathe again.

⛓️

The job that Kakucho promises is a simple office job. One where you keep your head down and don’t ask questions. It lasts two weeks. Two weeks of learning the systems, of ignoring the small things you start learning about who you’re working for. Two weeks of dealing with the confused looks other people send you, of the way Kakucho appears occasionally to walk you out. Until he kisses you. 

He doesn’t apologize when you reel back in surprise. His mismatched eyes watch you, hand grabbing your wrist before you get too far. It’s just a kiss, he tells you. Don’t forget why you’re here. 

A reminder that you owe him. You nod and he lets you go, but the next day, a strange man is waiting at your desk. One of the other executives, you quickly learn. 

⛓️

The pain in your head is growing. 

You want silence or at least something stronger than a puff of smoke shotgunned into your mouth. You never used to do drugs. Funny how fast that all changed. Now you’ll take anything to forget. 

Your legs have gone numb under you and you’ll be lucky if you can walk when he finally decides to take you home. There’s no other place for you. You lost your own apartment ages ago and while all the men have used you, Mikey holds you as tight as he does now, whether or not there’s a physical chain that links you. You owe him your life now. He was gracious not to kill you when you ran from them. This is a small price compared to what you could have owed. 

“You gonna let her up?” 

Takeomi. You don’t see him, but you hear him. If Mikey says anything in response, it blends too well into the background. 

“Least he chose you a good outfit. Look up at me, darling.” They each have their pet names for you when they’re being kind…or wanting to mock you and your fate. 

You wait for the tug signalling permission before you look up at Mikey’s advisor. He’s smoking a cigarette and standing there, looking down at you. He’s older, a scar on his face like some of the others. Different and yet so similar that it makes you think of Kakucho who’s either not attending or has been ordered away from you. 

“You’re fucked up, aren’t you?” he asks. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth before turning to offer it to you. It’s not as strong as you want, but the nicotine might be enough to help ease some of the headache you’re feeling. He lets you inhale twice before he takes it back. An indirect kiss that’s tame compared to some of the other stuff you’ve done together. 

“Thank you,” you say, knowing it’s required. 

He smirks at you, taking another drag before he turns to Mikey. “You should keep the collar.” 

“I know a place,” a new voice interrupts. Koko leans down as he steps up next to you. “We could get one of the ones that she can’t take off. With our symbol carved into it.” He looks at you carefully before lifting your head to look at him. “Thought you’d be crying.” He lets out a small sigh as if he’s disappointed. “You’re prettier when you’re crying.”

You look away, unsure of how to respond to that. Koko likes to spoil you, but he also likes to see you overstimulated and begging for him to stop. Every gift comes with a price and you pay the most with Koko’s. 

“You should have come to me,” Koko says softly. “Would have fucked that mistake out of your head.” He uses your term, informing you that they’re talking about you. It’s nothing new. You’ve been with them all, separately and together. They’ve all seen you breaking apart around them and each other. It’s only everyone else that doesn’t get a taste of you. 

⛓️

The first time you meet Mikey, you’re outside a club you never wanted to go to. It was some party for the employees and the entire floor had been invited. It had been made clear to you, not only by Kakucho but Ran and the others as well, that your attendance was mandatory.

You’re in the middle of eating one of the snacks you picked up at the convenience store on the way here, leaning against the wall of the club. There’s no line tonight and you’re in no rush to go in. You’d rather not drink on an empty stomach. 

It’s not long before you realize someone’s watching you. 

You turn to look, but when you finally catch them, it becomes a little more apparent that they’re not staring at you, but at the food in your hand. 

“Want one?” you ask. He looks thin, his outfit too large on him. You’re not particularly charitable, but you’d rather get rid of the food and garbage before walking into a club. You offer the bag to him. 

He stares at you, finally meeting your eyes, for a long moment. “Why?”

You shrug. “I’m full…and I don’t want to carry it. You can throw it out if you want, but it’s still sealed. I just bought it down the street.” 

He takes the bag, pulling the pancake treat out and staring at the package. He looks back at you. “You here?” he asks, nodding towards the club. When you nod, he leaves and you watch incredulously as he walks in with the plastic bag in one hand. The bouncers don’t even ID him. 

⛓️

Mikey pulls at your collar until you’re stumbling in front of him, leaning into his legs as you try to ease the pressure. He shifts his position before pulling and you’re left struggling as climb up into his lap at his silent demand. 

You straddle his thighs, waiting until he directs you. You’re not usually this calm, this submissive, but the threat of your family’s lives hangs over your head. Regret for your own choices sits heavy in your gut. It’s your own fault. 

“Look at me.”

You lift your eyes to meet Mikey’s. His gaze is dark, but it’s not empty like it used to be. Not like when you met. He stares at you for a long moment before his hand slips between your legs. Your breath hitches as his fingers shove your underwear to the side, pressing in. He doesn’t look away from you as he swipes up before pulling his fingers out. They shine slightly, slick with the wetness that gathered from Rindou’s foot and the way the men have come to tease you, to try to make you react to them to exacerbate your punishment. 

He holds them up between you before moving them to your mouth. You open instantly, letting Mikey press his fingers down on your tongue. You close your lips around them, sucking softly and trying to clean yourself off of him. 

“Trying hard to earn my forgiveness, aren’t you?” he says. 

You nod, moving your tongue over his fingers until he shoves them further down your throat until you choke. Tears build up in your eyes instantly. He keeps them there as you struggle to breathe before he pulls them out. 

You gasp for air, tears falling down your cheeks. A sharp smack against your ass makes you take a deep breath, trying to stop yourself from crying. 

“You want my forgiveness. Earn it.”

⛓️

Your back is to his chest as you face the room. The music thumps in along with your heartbeat. You’re not sure where one stops and the other begins at this point. Smoke hangs in the air, a hazy mix of tobacco, marijuana and fog from the machines. It’s not enough. 

You rock your hips, trying to build the pleasure for both of you. Mikey is hard inside you, stretching you deliciously, one hand looped around the chain attached to your collar while the other rests on the side of the couch he sits on. You’re doing all the work, trying your best to get him off, to ignore the eyes of the Executives on you. You’ve seen some of them palming themselves already, trying to ease the tension building from the sight of you fucking their leader. 

You’d be more embarrassed if you weren’t so focused on this. It's not the first time they’ve watched you, but you’re usually somewhere more private. Not in the VIP section of a club, a open balcony where anyone could see you if they actually wanted to. The crowd would be able to hear you whining, desperate and needy, if it wasn’t for the music. You’re surprised but you don’t question the choice. None of them like sharing you and the last time someone else other than any of them walked in on you taking care of one of them, they ended up dead. 

“Mikey–” you groan, grinding your hips back into his. “Mikey, please,” you beg. You’re not allowed to cum until he lets you. 

The chain pulls suddenly, yanking your head back until you’re arching your back and your face is next to his. It hurts but you don’t dare complain. Not when you’ve managed to avoid it so far.

“You ordering me?” he asks. “You think you deserve to cum?” 

“I’m sorry!” you cry out, hands reaching to the collar, trying to ease some of the pressure. You deviate before you touch it, hearing one of the other men groan in disappointment that you’re still coherent enough to not get yourself into more trouble. Instead, you cup your breasts over the slip of a dress you wear. “‘m sorry…” you whine, trying to move your hips, to chase the high that’s building.

“Look at them.” 

Your eyes try to find the other men watching the two of you but the angle you’re currently forced into makes it difficult. 

“The only reason you’re not being fucked by them is because of me. Because I haven’t given them permission.” He thrusts his hips up, making you cry out in surprise at the sudden change. “I own you. You gave your life to me and here you are, fucking yourself on me, begging me for a release you don’t fucking deserve. You want to cum? Fucking beg for my forgiveness.”

“I’m sorry!” You say quickly, tears burning in your eyes from the pain of the position you’re in. “Mikey, I’m sorry! I’ll never run again! I swear! I’ll be good! Please, Mikey! I was wrong! I’m yours!”

“Hmm..” he doesn’t say anything else, but the pressure on your throat finally eases and you’re able to lean forward, breathing like normal again. You put your hands on his knees before going back to moving your hips, to using him to fuck yourself on at his orders. 

It doesn’t take long before he tires of your pace. His hand is on your throat, his other arm wraps around your waist as he thrusts up into you. He pulls you down, slamming you onto him. There’s nothing you can do but hold on, begging for a release he’s continued to refuse you. 

He breaks, pulling you down onto him, cock twitching as he cums inside. You moan at the feeling but it’s still not enough, not to get you off. You’re left on the cusp of your orgasm, feeling needy and desperate in a way that you’ve long gotten over hating yourself for. 

“Mikey, please..” you beg quietly.

He pulls you back, hand stroking softly against your hip as he presses his lips against the spot behind your ear. “You ever try to leave again, I’ll gift you to my men. All of them.” The threat freezes in your chest. It was one thing to be shared amongst the top men of Bonten. It was a whole other to be given to the men who made up the layers of the organization. You wouldn’t survive it. 

“I’ll be good,” you promise. 

He kisses your neck again before holding up the chain that’s attached to the collar around your neck. “Ran.”

You turn, looking to see the eldest Haitani grin before getting up to fetch you. There’s a prominent bulge in his pants as he takes the leash from Mikey. 

“Come on, baby. You gotta apologize to all of us,” he says with a smirk. “Think you can make it up to me too?”

“I expect her back when she’s done.”

You carefully climb off of Mikey’s lap, ignoring the feeling of Mikey’s release slipping out of you and trailing down your thigh, and follow Ran as he leads you by the chain toward the others. Regret churns in your stomach and you quickly shove it down. 

After all, you can only blame yourself. 

everything tag list: @raith-way @zeleniafic @veetlegeuse  @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @themaradwrites @kingsmakers @far-shores

[steddieas-shegoes]

for charity

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'formal'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated t | 495 words | cw: a little sexual tension | tags: pre-steddie, banter, flashback

🤵🏻🤵🏻🤵🏻🤵🏻🤵🏻🤵🏻🤵🏻🤵🏻🤵🏻🤵🏻🤵🏻🤵🏻🤵🏻🤵🏻

“It’s literally for charity,” Steve groans. “Just put on the suit!”

“It’s itchy!” Eddie argues. “And the pants are weird.”

“The pants are weird.”

Steve is looking at him like he’s grown an extra head. It’s not the first time and won’t be the last.

“They fit like pj pants but aren’t pj pants material so when I sit and walk, everything chafes,” Eddie explains calmly.

“You don’t have a choice,” Steve holds up the pants. “It’s only for a few hours.”

“A few hours of torture!” Eddie whines as he takes the pants from Steve. He strips his sweatpants off and pouts.

He can feel Steve’s eyes on him as he pulls the slacks on, buttoning them up and hoping he can get away with not wearing a belt. No one said anything about belts being required.

“You didn’t tuck in your shirt,” Steve says as he walks up to him, not quite hiding the fond smile breaking out across his face.

“I refuse.”

Steve rolls his eyes and tugs Eddie closer by the waistband of his pants. He stuffs the shirt into them, sloppy at first, then slowing down so he can make sure it looks right.

He’s too focused to notice Eddie’s face going red, to hear his quiet gasp at the feeling of Steve’s hands against his waist. They’ve always been touchy with each other, but this feels intimate, different.

“There.”

Steve’s hands are still at his hips, gently resting as he finally makes eye contact with Eddie. He looks proud of himself, and Eddie thinks now is the perfect time to kiss him.

Except it isn’t. They have to be at this charity ball for the children’s hospital in less than an hour. If Eddie kisses him now, they won’t make it to the event.

They’ll either be too busy doing other things or Eddie will be going into the witness protection program for ruining his friendship with Steve.

Eddie breathes in, forces a smile, and pulls away.

“Fine. You win. I look great.” Eddie laughs and it almost sounds normal. “I suppose you expect me to wear those god awful shoes too?”

Steve looks down at his feet and crosses his arms. “You can’t wear your sneakers. Or boots.”

“The boots were just cleaned though!”

Steve rolls his eyes, but Eddie knows it’s not real annoyance. If it was, he would have stopped arguing and walked out of the room a while ago.

“The nice shoes.” Steve steps closer and arranges a strand of Eddie’s hair, moving it behind his ear. He steps back. “We leave in ten minutes. Don’t forget your phone.”

Eddie gulps.

He has no idea how he’s gonna make it through this night, especially not when he watches Steve walk away and sees the way his pants fit his ass.

He’ll have to keep his indecent thoughts in the back of his mind yet again.

Maybe someday he’ll be able to say them out loud.

[sarawritestories]

I Wanna Be Yours Chapter 1

Xaden Riorson X Lydia Aetos

Summary: Lydia Aetos Longs to be a Ballerina, her father has other plans, and has conscripted her to the rider's quadrant with her childhood friend Violet. Reuniting with her brother he only gives her two orders. Do not bring up wanting to dance and stay far away from Xaden Riorson. Both of his orders go ignored.

Content Warning: Violence.

A/N: Here is the first chapter I hope you all Enjoy! 🩰

Word Count: 4.9K

If you want to Read on AO3 click Here

I Wanna Be Yours Masterlist

Ashes. I’m watching my pointe shoes turn into ashes. I can’t help the tears that roll down my face. “Maybe now you will understand that no child of mine will be a performer in a traveling freakshow. My children are riders; they will serve their country with pride.” My Father’s voice grates against my skin as I watch the one thing I treasure most burn my dreams with it. “Come, Lydia, it’s almost time to go.” My legs refuse to move, as the pop of the wood makes me jump.

Hearing Colonel Aetos sigh grates my skin, he’s sending me to my death, with a first-born son like Dain, he didn’t need a second child. Correction he didn’t want one. Yet here I sit to his dismay. His feet move quickly as he places his hand in a vice-like grip around my arm; yanking me from the hearth, I writhe in his grasp as he pulls me away as I see what is left of the pink silk turn black. “That’s enough, Lydia.” He pins me against the wall, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to send a message, “You are going to cross that parapet, and join your brother, you are going to become a rider. Do you understand me?”

I school my face into something soft as if my life isn’t being turned upside down, swallowing the tears. “Yes, Colonel,” My voice doesn’t sound like my own, but my mother’s and my father realizes it too as his complexion pales slightly.

Regaining his composure, “Get dressed, back your rucksack and let’s go we are supposed to be in General Sorrengail’s office in 10 minutes.” I jerk out of his grasp and head to my room, trying to even out my breathing. As miserable as it sounds, I’m glad I will have Violet. The two of us have been inseparable for our entire lives. We are both being forced into the Rider’s quadrant today, at the hands of our parents. I tuck my hand under my mattress and pull out a piece of paper. I sit on the edge of my bed and re-read words I have memorized at this point.

My Dearest Lydia,

My little twinkle toes. I’m so sorry, I had to leave. The life your father leads can feel like a cage. I’m suffocating, little one. I cannot be controlled or maintained like a rabid beast. I’m sorry, I know what this means for you, what your father will make you do when you turn twenty. Just know that not a day goes by when I won’t feel guilty for putting you in that cage to take my place. Just know that I love you and if you get anything from this letter. Don’t stop dancing. Whatever you do, continue dancing through this life. Let dance be your escape from the cruelty Basgiath has to offer. I hope one day we will be reunited, and you will have found a way to break out of the chains that hold you in Navarre.

I love you more than you know,

Mom

Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose. Every time I read the letter of my heartaches; she knew that the father would force me into the Rider’s quadrant. Why couldn’t she take me with her? Couldn’t we both be free? Why couldn’t she have stayed just long enough for me to find a way for me to pursue my dream?  Anger bubbles up in my core, why was she so selfish to fucking leave me here, knowing that I would be sharing the same feelings she had.

Not wanting to keep The Colonel waiting I put on a black, long-sleeved shirt and tightly fitted leather pants from an old riders uniform my father found. I fold the note into a small square and tuck it into my boot, not wanting to risk him finding it. Grabbing my bag, I step out of my room that has been my home for seventeen years of my life and meet my father. As we begin to walk, I shut my eyes and I allow myself one more moment to mourn over the dream I will never be able to fulfill.

Violet and I stare up at the tower familiar with the trek we will have to make to reach the parapet, the first trial we will receive before ever becoming a cadet. Violet takes my hand, “At least we have each other.” 

I give her hand a comforting squeeze as we move up the line. “Name,” The lady calls out not bothering to look up from the parchment. Violet moves to talk to the older gentleman as I heave a sigh.

“Lydia Aetos.”

The woman blinks after scribbling down my name and looks up to meet my eyes and I notice the flinch she gives when she notices that they are two different colors. “Are you related to Colonel Aetos?”

I nod my head, “He is my father.” I see Violet is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, “I turn and look at her. “Have a nice day,” I give her the best smile I can, which in turn might be a grimace as I move to meet my friend.

She is conversing with a taller girl, with dark skin and her hair had been pulled back in small rows of braids. Her brown eyes glimmered with excitement as I came closer. The woman paused and tilted her head at me. “Hello,” I give a small wave, shifting under the weight of her gaze.

“Your eyes.” She begins and my mind starts filling in the gaps with words my father has used in the past.

Ugly.

Disgusting.

Defective.

“Beautiful.” The word shakes me out of my spiral of negativity.

“I’m sorry?” I blinked.

“You’re eyes, they’re beautiful. I have read that some are born with two different colored eyes, but to see the beauty of it in person.” She holds out her hand, “Rhiannon Matthias.”

“Lydia Aetos.” Taking her hand and shaking it a genuine smile creeping up on my face.

“Yeah, yeah, and I’m General Melgren, now move. We don’t have all day.” A man’s voice quips behind us. I turn to find piercing blue eyes and a full head of blond hair; he is wearing a scowl that contorts his face into something heinous.  He gives me a playful wink, that makes my stomach churn, “Let’s go, Princess.”

Not bothering to give him a response, I turned back to my friend and new acquaintance. The three of us begin our ascent up the stairs. The smaller man in front of us- Dylan- keeps babbling about how excited he is to be in the Rider’s quadrant. As he and Rhinannon discuss their dreams and goals, I let my mind wander.

Twirling across the stage, each pirouette clean and precise just as Seraphina has taught me. My tulle skirts billowing around me like a shield. I don’t need to remember the next move, the music seeps into my bones and as if in response my body knows what to do next. I grin as the warmth of all the mage lights, illuminating the stage, kisses my skin. Twirling into a solid form, Large tan hands grip my waist as my partner steps in time with the beat.

We move as one as he spins hoisting me up in the air. I am certain my toes are pointed, and my arms are sharp in an elegant pose. I feel myself being lowered and looked at my partners face, familiar hazel eyes and a toothy grin in plain view, twirling me once more to the crescendo of the music and when my twirls end, He dips me low, my one leg stretched out in between his, the other bent my foot tucked behind my knee cap. His forehead presses mind as my arms move around his neck in time with the end notes of the music.  My eyes close as the smell of Cinnamon, Vanilla waft my nose, as the thunderous applause ruptures through the theater. Lips press against mine and I can’t help the giggle that erupts from my throat.

“Lydia.” His warm voice calls for me.

“Lydia. Lydia.”

“Lydia!” Violet shouts giving me a shove, pulling me out of my thoughts. I look to see that Rhiannon and Dylan are giving me looks of concern. I pressed my hand to my cheek to find them wet with tears. Shit. Violet’s eyes held worry and an undertone of understanding. “You were thinking about him again, weren’t you?” She whispers low enough only I can hear, as our hike up the concrete steps was nearing a close as the daylight was beginning to peak through.

“Yeah. I guess I’m missing everyone a little more today.” It’s a severe understatement that I’m making but Violet has her own things to worry about, no need to add more to her plate.

Violet, Dain, and I grew up together, she is basically my sister in all forms of the word. We have been inseparable, even more so when Brennan died and Dain left last year for the Rider’s quadrant, me, and her against the world we always teased. I never felt that more now, she gripped my hand in hers and gives me a squeeze as if she is thinking the same thing. “Thank you for always being there when I need, you Vi.”

Violet snorted, causing Rhinannon to turn and smirk, I look down at her feet briefly and notice the woman has one of Violet’s shoes and Violet in turn has one of her slippers on her feet. When did they do that? Violet’s voice causes me to face her, “You sound like you’re going to die today.”

“I am pretty sure that was the plan.” I murmur as Dylan and Rhiannon reach the top of the stairs. “He wants me dead, Vi.”

“Too bad. You and I. We are not going to die today, Lydia.” Violet was the first to reach the open expanse of the turret. The breath of fresh air is welcome to the stench of sweat and body odor. The warmth of the sun kisses my skin, a large gust of wind whipping my hair across my face. Violet seeing this her eyes widen. “I almost forgot. In my bag there is a little gift from Mira.” I quickly open her bag and pull out a package with my name on it and a little note.

Hey Kid,

A little gift from your favorite sibling. Don’t roll your eyes, you know it’s true!

Just something that can keep that crazy mane of yours up and to remind everyone not to mess with you.

Mira

Unwrapping package to reveal two long gold hair pins, little gold dragons at one end the pointed end sharp as knives. “I love your sister; did you know that?”

Violet laughs as I shut her bag and quickly put my hair in a tight bun. “You and me both.” There is a pause as we make our way closer to beginning. “I’m looking forward to seeing Dain.”

I roll my eyes, about to retort when a man’s voice, “You ready for the next one, Riorson.”

I pause my movements, my hands still in my hair, looking at the broad chest in front of me my eyes trail up and I am met with a set jaw and alluring onyx eyes, and in the light little gold flecks shine through. I roll my shoulders and drop my hands from my hair. His eyes graze my body and back up to my eyes and shiver down my spine. “Aetos, Sorrengail, you two, okay?” Pulling away from the man’s magnetic gaze, I meet Rhiannon’s stare. I dip my chin in silent confirmation.

“Sorrengail and Aetos?” The low rumble of Xaden Riorson voice pulls my attention back to him. This man is the definition of beauty, his sharp jawline, high cheekbones, even with the scar cutting across his brow that drags down to the top of his cheek bone. His tan skin gleams with perspiration from the midday sun no doubt, and I catch a glimpse a tattoo on the side of his neck that disappears with the neckline of his shirt. The clearing of his throat makes me meet his eyes once more. There is a knowing smirk on his face, and he quirks an eyebrow, “Like what you see, Sweetheart?”

I remain silent and avert his stare. “You’re Fen Riorson’s son.” Violet’s voice sounds from behind me.

“You’re General Sorrengail’s Daughter.” He retorts, “Your mother had my father executed.”

I can feel Violet’s anger bubbling behind me. “Your father killed my brother I think that makes us even.”

Xaden snorts, “Hardly.” That perks my head up, to find his eyes were already on me. He tilts his head his eyes assessing me, like I’m a prize mare, “And you. I wasn’t aware that Dain Aetos had a little sister. He never talks about you.”

I bite my lip the only indication I give that his words bother me, “I can’t say. I’m surprised.”

Xaden takes a step forward and try to focus on the floor once more, “Why’s that, Kitten?” A finger hooks under my chin forcing me to meet his gaze and my heart rate quickens, out of fear or sheer arousal, I’m not sure.

One thing I do know: This man is dangerous.  Yet I fall for his beautifully set trap and answer honestly, knowing I should not give him any of my weaknesses, “No one likes talking about the disappointment in the family.” For extra measure I take a step back, away from his touch and he lets me, dropping his hand.

“Hurry it up. Some of us are becoming riders today.” The ass hole from before speaks, his words grating my skin. A distant scream comes from the death trap in front of me. When looking over to the parapet I no longer see Dylan and my heart sinks. Rhiannon is still moving, and Violet begins to walk across dark storm clouds rolling in followed by a rumble of thunder. Fucking. Wonderful.

Xaden chuckles and I meet his stare, “Good luck, Kitten.” He gestures for me to the entry point of the parapet.

I glare at him, flaring my nostrils, “My name is Lydia.”

He smirks, “I think my name suits you better.”

I don’t know how the dagger got in my hand but the minute I throw it, the steel passing about 3 people before it hits its mark. The dagger sinks into the crack of the concrete a half an inch from the jack ass who has been making smart ass comments all morning’s shoes. Looking back at those gold flecked onyx eyes I give him a wink, “I think you’ll find, it doesn’t.”

The guy next Xaden laughed, “Looks like the kitten has claws. I hope you make it, Aetos,” He nods his head and I begin to walk. The drop of rain pelts my skin the moment I take my first step. When I take the next few steps, the sky opens as rain cascades down. I can hear Seraphina’s instructions in my ears.

Arms out, straighten that back. Get into second position.

I straighten my posture and extend my arms out, placing my feet outwardly giving myself the optimal balance and proceed to move. I focus on Violet’s pack in front of me as I keep moving. I imagine myself on stage, the music once again whisking me away. The low rumble of drums meets the contrasting sounds of the piccolo and various string instruments to create a melody that makes my movements lighter. I trust in my training, my balance, the music that for years kept me rooted. The music drowns out the sound of the rain colliding against the brick. My mind transforms the stage into a whimsical forest, and I am balancing on a fallen tree trunk to reach for my lover on the other side. His smile warm as the lights pressing against my skin. I’m not in old leather, I’m in a white gown with billowing layers that makes it easier to move in when I dance.

I twirl my feet finding purchase on the log once I complete the spin with flawless precision. A smile emerges on my face as I gear up for my flip the finishing move, I need to do before reaching the halfway point to him. I run and leap, my legs flipping over my head with the elegance of a gazelle. Landing with a pointed toe and my arms reaching for the sky my balance slips slightly but not enough to keep me from moving toward my goal. To keep me from returning to his arms. I allow myself a glance at his eyes and his face contorts into something unrecognizable, evil.

“I’m coming to get you, Twinkle Toes.” The voice is not his and I blink as the music abruptly stops and the reality, I am in comes crashing forward. The cool kiss of rain rakes a chill down my body. The voice came from behind me. I turn to find the blonde from earlier coming at me with full speed. The person that was behind me in line is blocking him from me and still is a good distance aways. That does not deter the Blonde-haired menace, as he grips the arm of the girl and throws her off. My eyes widen and my instincts overtake my body and I sprint. I focus ahead of me and try to think of music that would be appropriate for this. Something fast paced with horns and fast-paced drums, trying to keep my mind on anything besides the absolute menace behind me.

I can hear his footsteps thudding over the pattering of the rain and I quicken my base trusting in the traction of my boots. I can see the end and Violet reaching it. The is gaining on me and I have enough distance that I pause, briefly and take the risk I prep for my jump and slip. Regaining my balance and looking back to see he is still far enough for me to recover. I get in position once more and take a deep breath.

I will not die today.

I sprint into a run once more and when I have enough distance I take my leap, my feet pointed, my back arched in perfect form even Seraphina wouldn’t have anything to say. When I land the ground is slick and I lose my footing. Fortunately, Violet is there to hold me still. “Lydia! We made it!”

I nod and turn to the cadet with bright red hair, she smirks, “Name.”

“Lydia Aetos.”

“Welcome to the Rider’s Quadrant, Lydia. That was one hell of a performance.”

I walk further down the steps and notice that Violet winces, “Let’s get you taken care of.” I loop her arm in mine before we are both grip in a bone crushing hug.

“We did it!” Rhiannon beams and she looks at me, “You definitely made a name for yourself, what you did on the parapet was amazing.”

“What did I do?”

Violet blinks, “You’re kidding.” Before Violet could elaborate.

“Name.”

“Jack Barlow.” His eyes meet mine and there is a snarl on his face. The look promises one thing. Trouble. Thankfully he stalks in the other direction

“Lydia.” Only one man’s voice makes me groan knowing a lecture is brewing, I turn and see Dain standing there his mouth formed in a tight line, his eyes shift over to the silver haired woman next to me and his face shifts into shock, “Violet?”

Violet smiles, “Hi Dain,” Dain looked to his left then to his right before he grips both Violet’s and mine’s wrist and drags us away from Rhiannon.

“Dain,” I hiss, “She’s hurt take it easy.”

As if on cue Violet begins to dry heave. “Shit.” Dain mutters as he takes her to a bench hidden in an alcove where no one could see. “What the hell are you doing here, Violet?” As he tucks her head between her knees.

“General Sorrengail, refuses to have a scribe in her family. Like someone else we know.”

“Scribe is a respectable job. Dancing is not.” Dain deadpans and I clench my fist. A hand touches my shoulder causing me to jump.  “What the hell were you thinking, Lydia? Dancing on the parapet like that?”

I blink, and clear my throat, “I didn’t realize that is what I did. I was trying to put myself in my happy place. To keep me from over thinking about what I was doing. My instincts went into overdrive.”

“What you did was showboat and it’s going to cause me problems.” He scowls at me, and I get a good look at him at him, he’s grown a beard since I last saw him. But he still has our father’s brown eyes, and his hair cut short and his curls sitting atop his head. “What?”

“I can’t look at my older brother. I’m fine by the way, thanks for asking.” He rolls his eyes and presses me into a hug.

“Sorry.” He murmurs in my hair as he notices the new pins, “Let me guess.”

“Mira.” Violet, Dain and I say at the same time.

Dain smiles, “They suit you.” His small drops, “You must promise to never do what you did again. There are only two rules that I need you to follow, I expect you to follow them. No talking about dance, or dancing and stay away from Xaden Riorson.”

“Noted.” I rolled my eyes, “Glad to see somethings never change.” Dain sighs and moves back to Violet.

I felt a hand gripped my shoulder causing me to jump, “It’s just me.” Rhi’s voice calms me as she gives my shoulder a comforting squeeze, “I wanted to swap shoes back.”

Dain looks between Violet’s shoes and glares at Violet. “Make it snappy.” He glares at Rhiannon, “Who are you?”

Rhiannon looks between me and Violet, “I am their friend.” She slips off Violet’s boot and sighs in reprieve as Violet removes the slipper from her foot and grabs her boot, which Dain helped her put it on.

“I am a squad leader.” He looks over to me and Rhi. “You two go tell the red head recording names that you three are going to be in my squad. I’m going to help Violet and will be right back.” I nod my head and turn on my heal.

“Is that your brother?” Rhi asks.

“Yup.”

“He is something.”

“Tell me about it.” I sigh

We have been placed in our squads. I’m grateful that Violet and I ended up together and not in Xaden’s Wing. Not a fan of the fact that he is one of my superiors. His eyes meet mine and he smirks, those eyes look at me like a predator watching his prey. He whispers to our wingleader and then. “Second Wing Flame Section, you will be moving to Fourth Wing.” My stomach sinks, avoiding the stare of my new wingleader.

“Cadets, move.” Dain commands his jaw sets the only indication that he is upset. We move to where our new wing is standing as the one that is now apart of Second Wing move to where we were just standing.                 

Once everyone settles Xaden begins to speak. I try to zone him out as best as I can, exhaustion is beginning to take over my body. The adrenaline from crossing over the parapet but his voice rings out, “You all feel pretty bad ass don’t you,” Cheers erupt around me and Xaden nods, “Feeling invincible?” I do not feel that way. “You think you’re worthy of a dragon.” More cheers erupted and Xaden crossed his arms. The sound of thunder erupts.

No. Not thunder.

Wings.                                                                                                                                                

As if on Xaden’s cue a horde dragons’ approach, the noise begins to build as a regal blue dagger tail lands on the edge of the wall as if it’s a perch for them. Her claws dig into the brick, pieces crumbling down under her weight. I notice the cadets around me are frozen in fear. A few were shaking and their pants had dark spots that trailed down their legs. Terror racks through my body but I focus on my breathing.

Thump, Thump

The blood curdling scream of another cadet rattles me as a young man from the first wing runs heading back toward the parapet. The dragons all shift as a few more cadets scatter. I blink and feel hands around my waist tugging me down before the dragons unfurl their tongues and fire erupts from all different angles. The hands around me tug me close to the lean chest and I place my own hands around the mystery person’s, their fingers lacing theirs through mine I squeeze my eyes shut as anguish screams fill my ears and will certainly give me nightmares. The fire ceases and the smell of burnt flesh is left in its wake. The figure behind me moves and helps me up. I turn around hoping I would see Dain’s face behind me.

Thump, Thump

Instead, I am met with warm brown eyes and a goofy grin. A man with tan skin, a curly mop of brown hair and handsome face looks back at me, “You, okay?”

I nod my hand, “Thank you…” I lead of.

He holds out his hand, “Ridoc Gamlyn.”

I took his hand, “Lydia Aetos.”

Before Ridoc can comment on my name Dain turns, “Quiet both of you.” Ridoc Mimics him and causes me to giggle as Xaden continues his speech.

“Anyone still feel invincible now?” He questions his brow quirking as his eyes loom over the entire Quadrant, locking onto mine.

Thump, Thump.

My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. His eyes pin me to the floor incapable of moving. Out of the corner of my eye I see the blue dagger tail moving her head back and forth.  It’s the gasp of the crowd that pulls me from Xaden’s gaze.

Thump, Thump.

 The blues dragon takes a step down and my squad parts to make room for her. Her yellow eyes are looking directly at me as she takes another step forward. Dain’s face paled as he watches on, but its movement to my left that catches my attention. Xaden moves from where he is standing, his face is unreadable. It’s the quaking step of the dragon in front of me and my heart rate quickens as her yellow eyes take me in.

Thump, Thump, Thump

Despite the paralyzing fear, that I may very well die in the next few seconds I take in the creature before me. Her large horns curve on the top of her head. Her scales up close shimmer with various hues of blue and hints of black near the base of her scales, which makes her eyes stand out. Her nostrils flair, it feels like a challenge, as if she is begging for me to turn and run.

Thump, Thump, Thump.

I will not die today. I take a glance at where Dain is and spot Violet right beside him, terror on her face. She knows dragons better than I do, though I know enough, she knows my rate of survival is potentially slim here. I close my eyes and try to keep my breathing even. My heart erupting in my ears.

Thump, Thump, Thump.

I get down on my knees, my hands remaining at my sides. “What the fuck is she doing?” Jack Barlow’s voice carries over the silence that has fell amongst the court. No one else says a word as I bend forward lowering myself until my forehead touches the cool brick, the small grooves pressed against my skin. I close my eyes and I mentally recite different dance positions in my head trying to ease the fear.

Thump, Thump, Thump.

My breathing begins to even out when I feel the warm steam pressing against my neck. I take the risk and lift my head; the dragon nods her head. Is she giving me the okay to rise? Another dip of her head, and I slowly rise to my feet. As I do I meet her gaze once more, it’s just her and I, the world around us since forgotten. The dragon does something to my surprise, she cranes her neck where the tip of her snout touches the floor. She is bowing to me. The message is clear, a sign of mutual respect.

Thump, Thump.

She raises her head but keeps it low as she cranes her neck out for me. I cannot even see her eyes as she comes near and presses her snout to my chest. The chatter amongst the crowd is indistinguishable. I press my hand to her snout, her scales feel like leather under my touch, a smile forms on my cheeks, fear suddenly turning into elation. “Hello, Beautiful.” My voice was unable to reach above a whisper. She huffs in response and moves back to where she was perched before.

Adrenaline must be widdling from my body fast because I grip Ridoc’s shoulder tightly as my world tilts.

Thump, Thump.

I just survived my first encounter with a dragon.

Chapter 2

Story Tags: @milswrites @eve175 @marvelsmylife @sherayuki @misslady246 @thelov3lybookworm @a-frog-with-a-laptop @randomperson1234sblog @garricks4thwingqueen

[izvmimi]

cw: angsty. breakup mention. based on this song.

Everyone wishes they could go back to the beginning of a love affair, and perhaps if you were ever afforded the opportunity, you’d rewind to many years ago, when Suo first smiled at you and asked for your name. Perhaps you would have smiled just as politely and given him an alias or a nickname that wouldn’t grow as familiar as your name did eventually in his mouth, or come up with some sort of false appointment to help you leave the soiree. 

It's not like you could have known.

Your friend had told you he was a good man, and by all intents and purposes, he is one - kind, considerate, devoted to serving the community he’s a part of, perhaps at a time devoted to you - but now you are trying to erase desperately every memory you’ve shared, as if the endless harsh scrubbing of your body touched by him, as if rough fingers on your scalp and searingly hot water will melt every mark of him on your soul. 

This is a no-fault end to a love affair. He assured you it was him, not you, and plus, you both wanted different things, he’d reminded you, holding your fingertips the entire time over the coffee table so you wouldn’t shake or cry in public. You’d nodded, as if in a trance, his lips forming words that you had no choice but to agree with, even if soon you could barely hear what he was saying from the rushing of blood in your ears.

Suo doesn’t want you anymore. Did he ever want you? Did he ever love you? 

No fault. You did nothing wrong, you just grew apart, and adults do not force square pegs into round holes, they let each other be free to explore and be nurtured by the communities they serve and fall in love again, as many times as it takes to find the connection that fits and lasts.

It doesn’t matter how long you scald yourself under hot water, the love won’t fade away.

…

You hear your now ex has left the country from your friends a couple of weeks later, and you’re none the wiser. You don’t stop to think more about why, because you’ve cried enough times that the part of your brain that processes him and his person is now numb, and all you can do is nod, even if people are surprised to know you weren’t aware.

You have no details to share.

It’s not you, it’s him, after all. 

A year passes, and six months prior to this has you trying to date again by incessant coaxing from your friends, but the curse of being dumped with no explanation and the love of your life disappearing without a trace seems too daunting to move past. You call a crush Suo by accident and don’t even realize until he’s frowning at you as he pays the check, and finally you give up, wondering if something about you has been permanently altered.

It’s been a year and radio silence. No social media updates to even stalk (he always thought private life should stay private) and you had too much pride to ask his friends (if even they knew).

Only time would fix this and in your late 20s, you wonder if eventually you’d run out of time. 

…

Suo resurfaces in the middle of the night, dry despite the rain, save for his cloth shoes. He looks like he’s finally come up for air once he’s seen you, and it’s a miracle you’ve even opened the door, but he’s like an apparition, and you need to reach out and touch him.

You haven’t thought about him all week.

Men like him always appear when you’re trying to move on, don’t they?

“I missed you,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, and you know he’s telling the truth. You don’t reply, and he doesn’t say anything further, as if he’s waiting for you to slam the door on his face.

You don’t. All you do is say, “It’s not me, it’s you.”

His face turns to steel for a moment, and you can see him turn into the ghost you were expecting for a moment.

He whispers your name and you look down at his feet.

“Take off your shoes. You have exactly ten minutes.”

When your eyes meet his again as you look up, they’re filled to the brim with thankful tears, more emotion than you’ve seen in years.

Indoors, tonight, you’ll decide if there is still a fate that connects you, while the breeze and the moonlight outdoors remains constant.

[circeyoru]

Unwanted Soul _ Part 10 = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9 — Part 10 (here)

You’re sure it didn’t take a second after Alastor heard the introduction to immediately grab Kat with his many black tendrils that appeared under Kat’s feet. Her high-pitch screams made you cover your ears and and squeeze your eyes shut. At your discomfort, Alastor had a tendril wrapped around her mouth

You watched while Alastor had that raging murderous smile on his face while his eyes turned back. He threw Kat from building to building, never letting go and giving her a moment to recover. You timed a good 10 minutes before you placed a hand on Alastor’s arm to snap him out of his rage

It was considerate of him to not personally deal with her because you were still near and you two were out in the open so anything could happen. Normally, he would have torn her limb from limb and chomped down on her flesh like a piece of meat. Now this was a new method of torture

At your touch, Alastor’s head snapped to you. You pointed to a spot on the side of your head and told him Kat was marked by Vox’s servant symbol, meaning the contract she was mentioning had been one with Vox. Alastor’s grin widened even more and gave one final throw into the ground, creating a crater before releasing her from his hold

Kat gasped and groaned, trying to get up but fell back down. Slowly, she crawled her way out of the crater and ended up at your feet. You watched her with distain and pity. You honestly can’t understand why she’d take Vox’s deal, she was taken advantage of, possibility due to her having just arrived in Hell at the time and didn’t know the importance of a soul contract

“How dare you die…” Kat hissed, his hands clenched to fists. “You have no idea what I went through after that f**king stunt you pulled!”

“I’m assuming you meant you stealing My Darling’s work as your own?” Alastor glared sharply at Kat.

Kat laughed, “Hahahahaha! What kind of lies did you feed him?” She pointed a finger at you, “This f**ker let me! The b*tch was happy to write for me! I take the credit cause you don’t want the attention, remember?”

Your eyes narrowed. That’s what you told yourself all those time. You told yourself it was fine because you didn’t like all this publicity and attention. Yet the fact that you felt anger towards it meant you didn’t want to give your work to another. At least not when all this was given to someone like her

Honestly, how can she blame her later misfortune on your death? She was your best friend, shouldn’t she feel something about it? Anything? Even the slighty sadness before all this?

You gripped onto Alastor’s hand, feeling a headache and dizziness growing. You whispered that you wanted to go home

Alastor understood and with a final slap at the poor excuse of a friend across the face with his end of the cane, Alastor brought you two back to your shared room. Alastor asked if you needed anything but you merely said you needed some time alone

“If you require anything, Love. Just call me.”

“...”

Back at the crater, before Kat could recover from the blow or curse. She was swiftly pinned to the ground by the neck, a situation that was all too familiar. Sharp blade like needles stabbed into her hands and knees. Dread filled every fiber of her body as she tried to get out of the hold she’s under but her body was frozen in fear

Just like before

“Aww, The Dear Writer left so quickly… What a thoughtful bodyguard too. Nothing less will be fitting for the Dear.” The new figure cooed, their shoes applied more force on Kat’s neck, grinding her into the ground. “Don’t you agree, Faker?”

“How did you find me?” Kat shivered against the hold. “Ce— Ahhhhh!”

“Ah ah~ I think it’s only right that I have a new name down here, I’m Nemesis now.” The demon chuckled, “Not hard considering your new boss is quite infamous around the city. What with all the technology he sells, you appearing on TV was just an easy guess. Though my services aren’t required when you have this.”

Kat screamed when a sharp blade pierced into the place where Vox’s contract mark was implanted. 

Nemesis’ lips curved into a twisted smile as they continued to slowly torture the screaming female. “So where can I find the Dear Writer?”

“Hazbin… Hotel…”

“Many thanks.” Nemesis’ tail pulled out the blades without warning one by one, their ear flickering at the screams while they pulled out their phone. They grinned, pressing on something, “I think you were in the spotlight of fame a bit too long down here. Let’s return you to the nothing you are.”

Over the past few days, you’ve been working non-stop making all those TVs and speakers that you promised Vox. While doing so, you tried not using your pages and used your quill to write in the air like Lucifer suggested, it took some time since the mechanism was more complex than what you tried before. Though it offer as good exercise for you

Smoothly, you somehow managed to slowly not use your quill as well and changed to using your finger to scribble words in the air before flicking at it to summon your written object. That took way more energy that you can manage because the word required energy then the conjuration required even more energy

But you managed because you needed something to distract yourself from the recent train of events and emotional burn out

Alastor’s been trying to get you to pause in your work and relax. You ignore it all together and continued, even when Alastor pulled you away and into his arms, you were motionless and repeated told him to let go so you could work. All he could do was continue to provide you with meals and reminders to rest since you were practicing and needed energy to continue

At least that got you to pull away from work. The light in your eyes was soft and dimmed, but it was better than when you were first on the verge of breaking down like a broken doll

Like before, Charlie and the others asked about you from Alastor when he was cooking your meals. It was like the time when you first arrived in the hotel, that was when you were doing it of your own volitation with Alastor as your excuse. Now, it was because you were helping the hotel and got unwanted attention

When all of Vox’s devices were being ddelivered by Charlie, Vaggie, and Husk with a hypnotic resistance charm casted on them by you, you covered yourself in a blanket and drowned yourself in music

You were exhausted physically and mentally, you wanted to push yourself even more but you knew Alastor would be against it all the way and you don’t want to push him to do forceful thing just to make you see reason. You know Alastor would feel worse than you do because of his love and devotion towards you

At the thought of that, you feel even worse that you were treating Alastor do badly. Even worse, he’s seeing this pathetic side of you. What if he leaves you? What if he thinks you’re not worth it? What if—

A familiar rhythemic knocking on your door brought you out of your thoughts. Alastor’s muffle voice came through, “Beloved.” That nickname that melted your worries and comforted you, “I think there’s someone you should meet.”

You wondered who Alastor would just let into your room, even the hotel members didn’t get that luxury and that includes Niffty because Alastor handles the maintainance of your room all on his own. You trust Alastor, “Sure, come on in.”

The door opened and someone you’re unfamiliar with rushed in while Alastor stood guard at the door after closing it shut and locking it. “I’m Nemesis, I’m a big big fan of your work! Completely obsessed really! Oh my god! Or is it oh my Lucifer now? Anyways! It’s so good to finally meet you in the flesh! Well, not flesh flesh, but this afterlife is like another life, so~”

“Nemesis. As in like revenge? Enacting retribution?” You blinked at the name, it reminds you of Alastor’s since his meant tormentor, avenger, and persecutor. 

They got real close to your face as their smile spread, “Woah, truly the mind of a writer. You got my name reference.” They straightened up as they shrugged, “Other people, oops, demons only got that it’s Greek and hard to remember. Urgh, no class at all. They remember you by title too! Can you guess mine?”

Your eyebrow raised in confusion, you don’t know why this demon, Nemesis, was this causal with you. Though you figured that they had a talk with Alastor beforehand, that’s why Alastor even allowed them to be in here and talking with you. Even with close promixity

You observed Nemesis as they wanted. They were a snow leopard type of demon, with the fluffy ears on top of their head and tail behind them swishing like that of a cat’s. But you can’t tell whether it was just because it was their favourite animal, something they’re interested, or death related. Maybe something that they hate too, there was a sick irony in Hell

Your eyes traveled down to the row of white stielett-type weapons on their sides, they looked like giant dagger-sized needles but to you, they looked more like a pen. When Nemesis noticed your gaze, they took one from each side and started demonstrating to you how it was used like a performance

“The Dancing Needle.” Your lips moved and words came out before you knew it. At Nemesis’ frozen state and Alastor’s shocked face, you covered your mouth. “S—”

“How did you know?” Nemesis raved with shock, “You only observed too!”

You looked away, “It was nothing…”

Nemesis shook their head, “No way! It was amazing! If only I realized earlier…”

“Realized what?”

“That you’re the real author of that best selling novel that got so much attention.”

Nemesis went on to tell you. In the living world, they were Cecil and the editor for Karolina

During then, Cecil as an editor fell in love with the novels that Karolina had written. By some miracle, Cecil was given the chance to work as Karolina’s editor in the future and somewhat manager and caretaker since authors needed someone to ground them and since both were female, it was perfect

Over the years, Cecil noticed that Karolina was always attending public events and activities to boost popularity. It was normal, but to Cecil, it was weird that Karolina never actually sat down and written anything or researched for ideas. There was no burnout or ridiculous sleep schedules to follow and adapt to just to write a novel

Yet the requested writings were always provided and they were nearly to perfection, with minor grammar and some careless mis-spelling probably due to tiredness or being in the moment. It was an editor’s dream to work for someone like this. An author that’s famous and lively, and mostly punctual so nothing was forced or rushed to complete and do

But Cecil noticed the odd teachings and advices that Karolina would give to other people. There was nothing solid about it, it was all either the same old same old or just plain out weird to say. She had no accounts to retell, no personal examples to list. Yet she never asked Cecil for help

There was an interesting meeting that Karolina would always do. Whenever a deadline was near, Karolina would visit a friend of hers. Cecil thought it was for comfort and causal chatting at first, but every time she returns, there was more to tell on interviews and talk shows

To Cecil, it felt like someone was providing for Karolina

And Cecil was right. After the death of that friend, Karolina seemingly lost creativity and motivation. She lied on news channel that the novel was written for that friend to get through depression, she lied and painted herself as a caring and loving friend that wanted what’s best for that friend

Isn’t it odd that Karolina continues to sign contracts and appearances on screen regarding the novel? Some people requested for some detail clarification, but she denied them and said it was all secrets saved for her friend

Her friend this, her friend that. Everything was her friend, every excuse was her friend. So Cecil did some digging

Back when the first novel of the series was released, there was a buzz of a copycat that tried to steal Karolina’s work but failed. Cecil got her hands on that copy and read through it, the writing style was identicial to the later volumes that was published, the ideas that were cut off in this copy was in the later volumes

Cecil checked the statistics and comments, the first book had plotholes here and there, some even said it feels like things were missing here and there. But overall, it was still a good story. So there was a push to continue sequel to the first novel

Pages all dropped to the floor at the realization. That friend… That friend that Karolina was caring for… That friend had to be the real author of the books. It all made sense! Cecil searched online and found that that friend died, not by accident or sickness. No… Suicide…

An unfathomable rage and need for justice overtook Cecil and she was determined to see that Karolina suffers a slow and painful down. It was hard to pull it off, but somehow it was managed

Cecil pinned Karolina down with pens and cutters, then used daggers to stab all over her body without hitting any vitals. Cecil sliced words into her skin, ‘copycat’, ‘faker’, ‘liar’, ‘abuser’, and ‘murderer’. Then, Cecil decapitated Karolina’s head off of her body

Courtmeeting was given to Cecil where she used her chance to reveal it all. Who was the real author and who was the fake. Who was in the victim and who was the perpetator. Cecil announced that she is aware and admit that she done wrong, but if she could do it again, she would

The death sentence was passed down

Nemesis kneeled on their knees, looking up at you, tears flowing. “You suffered so much and no one knew or cared. Now they do, I’m included.” They held one of your hand, “So don’t knock yourself down, My Writer.”

Alastor took your other hand, placing a kiss on it, “We will deal with all your troubles so you can relax~ My Beloved.”

You can’t help but chuckled with a carefree closed-eye smile, “Oh you two…” But then your eyes snapped open and eyed the two, then focused on Nemesis. “Oh… There’s two of them now…”

Alastor and Nemesis eyed each other and smiled widely. “Whatever do you mean?”

Note: And that's the end of this arc~ Okay okay, I heard you guys loud and clear. No end yet cause you guys are willing to wait and read more. I'm taking a break from this series for a while to do other ones. But what do you think of this one?

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @nevermore-ramblings @justboredforreal @youroneandonlysimp @falsemain @scenteddelusion5 @anni1600 @readergirlstuff @salutations-demonsanddappers @mistpurpl3 @haruskrd @biadoll21 @speedycoffeedelight @wendds @paninibit @emperatris-rinaka @lucifers-silhouette @an-idyllic-novelist @cyannese-rose @type-ink @saccharine-nectarine

[missbubblesoda]

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (28)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27) | (29) | (30)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 4.7k

Romance authors often portray dancing with one’s beloved as an endless joy, something that could easily last well beyond nightfall. Yet your throbbing feet, bound and constrained by the white straps of your low-heeled shoes, silently resented them for such a lie. That’s why, when lunch was served, you eagerly welcomed the opportunity to sit down for a moment or two and catch your breath before inevitably dragging him back to the dance floor. After all, when else would you have the chance to slow dance against his chest, your chin resting cozily on his shoulder, and his arm wrapped protectively around your waist?

When you savored the first mouthful of peppercorn stuffing you realized that the Koch’s definition of good food was remarkably similar to yours. Everything, from the velvety gravy soup, the endless procession of assorted biscuits, the indulgent servings of steamed pudding, and the generous dollops of raspberry jam you coronated each of them with, prompted contented hums from your lips whenever you took a bite.

“I don’t recall ever seeing you this happy during a meal, not back at the base at least,” he noted from the seat next to yours, a playful smile on his lips and a forkful of roast venison in his hand.

“Well, that’s because you’ve never actually seen me during a meal. Have you, Commander Smith?” you responded casually, eyes completely focused on the extra dollop of jam you were serving, while your mind wandered to all the times you urged him to put his pen down and join you and the others in the dinner hall, even if just for a piece of bread. “Maybe if you graced us with your presence at dinner from time to time, you would see that I enjoy the Survey Corps’ food just as much. But you insist on eating alone in your office so...” you shrugged nonchalantly before bringing a spoon loaded with pudding to your lips.

“Have I upset you, my lady?” he asked with a smile that denoted he wasn’t the least bit concerned, and then, lifting a napkin, proceeded to wipe red jam off the corner of your lips.

And what an absurd question it was. No one with that shade of blue in their eyes and that disarming smile on their lips could ever upset anyone. There was no possible way, especially not when his face was this close to yours; his caring gesture, as sweet as it was unexpected, completely dazzling you, disorienting your senses until you found yourself nodding dazedly, your own eyes hopelessly lost in his.

“How very rude of me then,” he concluded, softly brushing the cloth against your skin, and you honestly couldn’t tell which was softer: the silk or the back of his fingers.

“Mother!” you exclaimed abruptly, springing up from your chair the moment you discovered her poised frame standing beside you. “We w- I mean I was- how do you do, Mother?”

“Darling,” she sent an acknowledging nod your way. Her usual composure, evident in both her assured demeanor and controlled voice, masked any hint of what she thought or felt, and at the same time, sent your heart into a flurry. Her gaze flickered to the Commander, who rose with practiced ease, a stark contrast to your own fumbling attempt from a few seconds ago.

“Madam,” the Commander offered your mother a warm smile along with a welcoming hand, a silent invitation you desperately hoped she wouldn’t refuse.

“Commander Smith,” she replied after a stretch of silence, which you wished had been shorter, placing her hand in his with ladylike charm.

Although your heart still pounded and raced inside, a flicker of relief found its way within when you saw the genuine smile blooming on your mother’s face as the Commander helped her into the vacant seat beside him.

“Pleasure to finally meet you,” she declared in that regal tone she reserved for social occasions, and it dawned on you: how long it had been since you last heard her speak that way. At home, her voice was always so mellow, less measured, especially around you and your father. And a sting of longing shot through you, a sudden wish for more of those casual evenings shared around the dinner table. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Commander Smith,” she added.

“Not from the press, I expect,” he said, earning a hearty chuckle from your mother. And you lowered your head, trying to resist the childlike smile shyly tugging at your lips as you watched the scene unfold.

“Rest assured, Commander Smith. Despite the occasional critique about the Survey Corp’s overbaked tomato pie, my daughter’s letters are otherwise filled with glowing reports about her days under your leadership.”

“So, Mother! Where’s Father?” you blurted out abruptly as soon as the Commander turned to look at you, a questioning eyebrow raised above a widely amused smirk that spelled ‘I knew you didn’t like our food!’ on his lips. “I was hoping he could meet Commander Smith today.”

“Your father? I was under the impression that he was right behind me,” she sighed in disappointment, glancing around in an attempt to find him among the partygoers. “Guess I shouldn’t have assumed. Maybe one of his… secret society buddies snatched him, or maybe the government finally got him,” she spoke with a touch of nonchalance that made you huff, shaking your head in playful disapproval of your parents’ bickering as you exchanged a smile with the Commander, who seemed downright entertained by your mother’s presence.

“If those bureaucratic buffoons you call ‘our government’ were to find us, color me surprised,” a masculine voice emerged from behind, and you didn’t need to turn in order to know who it belonged to. “Let's just say, Hansel's neck would be on the chopping block way before mine. We can worry about this head above my shoulders after they scrape his off the floor,” with that, your father materialized beside you, snatching a piece of bread from your plate and biting the best part off.

“Father,” you rose to your feet in greeting, gesturing towards the Commander with your hand, “This is Commander Erwin Smith.”

“You bet he is!” he yelled enthusiastically, the bread he had previously shoved into his mouth now getting in the way of his words, so he tried to wash it all down with an indulgent sip of his apple toddy. “What a momentous occasion! Today will go down in history as the day we finally crossed paths, my Commander,” he declared, a wide grin splitting his face.

My Commander? Since when? You thought, a silent snort almost escaping your lips. You wouldn't dare say it aloud though, not wanting to disrupt the moment or make the Commander uncomfortable. You knew time had softened your father's stance on the Survey Corps, especially towards their leader, but it was just too comical: to think this was the same man who, not too many seasons back, used to rant every week about the government wasting their funds on the Scouts.

Regardless, you were glad he had come to see him in a new light. Because Erwin Smith, his people, and the sacrifices they constantly made deserved nothing less than the utmost respect.

“Well met, my lord,” the Commander replied with a cordial smile. Standing right by his side, you blushed at the height difference between you two. There were moments when you felt genuinely small next to him, and this was one of them, but it always brought you a strange sense of security. And suddenly, you found yourself longing to experience that comforting feeling again, to be held in his strong embrace once again today, like the first time, that late summer afternoon in the forest of Giants Trees… To feel even smaller and overpowered by him, his solid muscles, his manly scent... Yes, that would be the perfect ending to a truly fantastic day.

“I have heard a great deal about you from your lady daughter,” he added, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine warmth. “She even mentioned your... unique ability to interpret nature's signs.”

“Is that right?” your father turned to you, pride shining in his round eyes. “Do you know what wisdom Augusta’s azaleas are revealing today?”

“Unfortunately, my lord, I wouldn’t be able to interpret such… botanical pronouncements,” the Commander replied with a hint of amusement in his voice. You weren’t surprised by his skepticism. By now, you had made peace with the fact that a man of science like him would, most likely, always remain in disbelief, no matter how many times nature proved you or your father’s predictions right.

A hearty laugh erupted from your father. "Ah, but perhaps they whisper of blossoming relationships today! Maybe even lifelong bonds taking root, huh? Wouldn’t you want to know, my Commander?" he winked at you, causing you to immediately duck your head in an attempt to hide the kaleidoscope of reds your face had become.

The things he says! Since when did he even-

You took a deep breath, exasperation and affection wrestling within your chest. Classic Father, you thought, always saying what’s on his mind, even if his comments leave everyone a little flustered. You mentally made a note to apologize to the Commander for not warning him about this side of your fa-

“Lifelong bonds. An interesting interpretation, sir,” you looked up, his blue eyes choosing to share a moment with yours even though his words were aimed at your father. “They are a treasure worth cherishing, indeed,” he said, warmth blooming in your chest the longer his gaze lingered on you. And… was that longing in his eyes?

Was he thinking about those days too?

We used to spend hours collecting wildflowers by the stream near our cabin, drinking fresh lemonade in the summer, making love with the bedroom door ajar and the rainiest of mornings ahead of us…You reminded him in silence, surprised by the sudden urge to share with him the memories of your future together. And you swore you saw a ghost of a smile touch his lips before he chose to replace it with words.

“Perhaps some things are best discovered through experience, rather than foretold.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning, tightening your throat with bittersweet nostalgia, and blurring your vision with vivid pictures of memories you were yet to create. Blinking back potential tears, you looked away, a blush creeping up your neck as you realized it was probably your turn to respond. So, taking a deep breath, you hid your longing with a smile.

"Perhaps they are, Commander Smith," you whispered, your voice barely audible amidst the backdrop of laughter surrounding you.

“Are you enjoying the reception, sir?” The Commander asked, and you knew him well enough to recognize this as his way of diverting attention from you, giving you space to steady yourself.

“Greatly,” your father replied, taking a hearty gulp of his drink to freshen up his throat. “And now that they've started serving apple toddies, this whole thing’s gotten a lot better! Ha ha! Although, to tell you the truth, the food can’t hold a candle to my wife’s cooking,” he added, trying to appear unassuming as he swirled the amber liquid thoughtfully, and you could vividly picture the discreet eye-roll your mother had answered him with. “Her green tomato pie is absolutely heavenly… Tell you what, Commander?!” he suddenly looked up, a mischievous glint appearing in his face, and while you didn’t know exactly what idea had crossed his mind, you certainly recognized the sparkle it had ignited in his eyes. “How about I show you my sincere appreciation with a proper dinner? Consider it a thank you for looking after our precious daughter.”

Your heart skipped a beat, hammering completely off rhythm against your ribs, the butterflies in your stomach swirling uncontrollably, creating a wave of nervous excitement that destructively washed over you. Surely, he couldn't be suggesting...

“I’m sure you’re a busy man, but I also know you are a highly intelligent one, which makes me think you have already assessed the situation, and identified this as probably the only opportunity you’ll have to enjoy my wife’s phenomenal cooking. In the nearby future, at least,” your father declared, leaning forward, his proposal making your stomach clench tighter.

Your gaze flickered to the Commander. He was about to respond to your father, but paused to steal a glance at you, a silent question exchanged between your eyes, unspoken… yes, but you believed you understood.

"Father, that's not necessary! Commander Smith is much too busy—" you blurted out, the memory of the Commander’s dismissal of Angelika Wald’s invitation still fresh in your mind. And you weren’t brave enough to risk facing the same rejection. “He has a long journey back to the base and… needs to leave shortly after the reception.”

“Is that so?” your father asked crestfallen, his shoulders slumping slightly as he turned to the Commander, and you had to admit he wasn’t the only one feeling dejected over the situation. Even though it may seem you were a little too eager to discourage the dinner, in truth, you were just doing your job, making it easier for the Commander to decline unnecessary appointments.

“My duties require a swift return to the base indeed,” he interjected, his words awakening a dormant discomfort in your chest, a faint ache you felt guilty for even having. Of course, he had responsibilities waiting, a mountain of paperwork and a whole base relying on him, to be more precise. Not only that, but he had already generously given you Sunday free, insisting you spent the entire weekend with your family. What else could you ask of him? Nothing. Doing so would be selfish, an indulgence you couldn’t justify.

“But perhaps…” he added unexpectedly, leaving you momentarily breathless, “Perhaps I could manage to find a way to fulfill both my obligations and experience your wife’s legendary cooking?”

Your chest rose and fell in rapid motions, trying to keep up with the beating of your heart, which had been hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs just moments ago, and now soared with a lightness you had only felt when you were together with him… secluded in your imaginary cabin in the woods.

“Only if it wouldn’t be an inconvenience for her, of course,” the Commander clarified, gesturing towards your mother. “I wouldn't want to impose on your hospitality, sir, madam."

A radiant smile bloomed on your face, threatening to split your cheeks in two, as the weight of your earlier anxieties now seemed to melt away slowly, getting gradually replaced by a giddy anticipation that bubbled up exactly like the fizzy contents of the bottle you knew your father would pop open for dinner tonight. And you couldn't help but steal a glance back at the Commander, the warm smile he gave you in return held a knowing glint, a silent confirmation of your suspicions: He knew exactly how happy he was making you. And suddenly, although still a little guilty, you felt the uncontrollable need to hold his face in both hands and kiss him. Yet the image of what your mother would do following such events, quickly destroyed that notion.

“Nonsense. Allow us to treat you to the relaxed evening a hardworking gentleman like you deserves every now and then. Right, pumpkin?” your father said, turning to your mother for confirmation.

“Consider yourself most welcome this evening, Commander Smith,” she replied promptly, a subtle smile gracing her lips, and an inviting warmth unfolding in her voice, both very reminiscent of home. And you hoped the Commander could feel it too, you hoped he could understand: Just how welcome he was.

“Lovely! We shall expect you at the entrance within the hour, my Commander,” your father concluded, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. “Until then, please enjoy the remainder of the festivities.”

With that, he walked away with your mother for a final indulgence in refined mingling. As you watched their backs blend into the crowd, a soft smile played on your lips, cherishing the heartfelt kindness they had enveloped the Commander with. Maybe he needed it, maybe not, but you definitely wanted him to have it.

“So…” he leaned in to whisper in your ear once your parents were out of sight, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “We overbake our pies…”

“I never said that,” you countered with a hint of innocence, meeting his gaze with the unwavering confidence typical of someone who has no secrets to hide. Although a mischievous grin betrayed your amusement. “I called it ‘enthusiastic baking.’ Mother may have taken some creative liberties with her interpretation,” you added, wrapping several biscuits in a cloth napkin for the carriage ride home.

-

“Surely, my Commander, the situation is as clear as day," your father's booming voice resonated from the tearoom at the other end of the hallway. Even if by the time it reached the kitchen, it had softened to a murmur, neither you nor your mother needed to understand the exact words in order to know what he was talking about. The sheer excitement in his tone was a dead giveaway. "The true power lies with a hidden hand, content to manipulate a puppet king while they themselves remain hidden in the shadows. Their motives you ask? One can only speculate.”

The conversation, which at this point risked becoming your father’s monologue, sharpened as you neared the end of the hallway, the crinkling of porcelain against your fingertips accompanying the sound of your heels against the floorboards.

“However, unlike that old gossip Hansel," your father chuckled, a hint of disagreement lacing his tone, "I believe the answer lies in preservation."

“If the public, or some foreign power were to set their sights on this so-called king…” your father continued, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper.

“The true royal family, whoever they may be, could remain untouched, veiled in secrecy and free to continue their reign… from the shadows,” the Commander interjected, and you arrived just in time to see a flicker of genuine curiosity cross his face. “I see your point, sir, a most intriguing notion indeed. This 'so-called king' would serve as a convenient buffer, deflecting any public discontent or potential threats aimed at the true power behind the throne.”

The Commander, you knew, had a liking for devouring dusty tomes on royal history. Did he, perhaps, find amusement in the conspiratorial air of the conversation? Or was there a spark of something deeper behind his words, a thirst for uncovering the truth about the hidden hand your father, and his own late father perhaps, believed controlled the Walls?

“Precisely, Erwin. I may call you by your given name, right?” Your father checked again, his question painting your cheeks warm shades of red. At some point between Lord Koch’s front door and your own, the Commander had been promoted from ‘my Commander’ to just ‘Erwin’, as if sharing a carriage ride automatically granted your father the right to address him by his first name.

As you placed the silver tray on the small table in front of them, you stole a glance at the Commander, curious to see his reaction, which came in the form of a smile, quietly playing at the corner of his lips as he inclined his head slightly, a silent acknowledgment of your father's request.

“It’s a solid theory, wouldn’t you say?” the mischievous glint in your father's eyes hinted at a newfound understanding between them, perhaps forged over their shared interest in royal intrigue rather than whatever gratitude your father claimed he held towards the Commander for saving your life in the Forest of Giant Trees. “Now, here’s where Hansel and I disagree,” he continued, leaning forward in his chair with a conspiratorial air. “He thinks it's all about keeping information locked away, some dark secret they desperately want hidden,” he paused, clearly for effect, his gaze flickering around the room as if checking for eavesdroppers.

“A dark secret, sir?”

Your father nodded, leaning in even closer, his voice now a low rumble. “Hansel believes it’s about manipulating the very fabric of history itself. Imagine," he said, his eyes widening with a dark intensity, "rewriting the past to suit their needs, erasing any trace of their true origins or some terrible deed they committed."

He leaned back again, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “Think about it. Controlling the past is the ultimate power, wouldn't you agree, Erwin? By messing with the records, they control what everyone knows, they keep people blind to the truth, forever dancing to their tune. Thank you, buttercup,” your father said when you added two cubes of sugar to his tea. You mockingly mouthed a silent ‘buttercup’ at the Commander across the table, who tried to hide an amused chuckle behind a raised teacup.

Despite his apparent amusement, however, you recognized the struggle flickering behind his eyes. Concern, perhaps. After all, royal calumny was supposed to have claimed the lives of many, including his own father. Or was it an even heavier burden? A reminder of all the unanswered questions he had voluntarily inherited from him, those haunting mysteries he had vowed to unravel on his behalf.

“Aren’t my daughter’s pastries fantastic?” your father boomed, switching the mood with a hearty laugh. “I think the Survey Corps kitchen could’ve used her talents more than your squad, wouldn't you agree, my Commander?” he joked, a proud smile splitting his face as he dunked the corner of a freshly-baked biscuit in his tea, “no dangerous expeditions for her, just pastries and biscuits for everyone at the headquarters. A win-win situation for each one of your soldiers, wouldn’t you say?”

The Commander dipped his head slightly, a barely perceptible smile gracing his lips for a fleeting moment before it vanished. He took a measured sip of his tea, his eyes locking with yours across the table before he murmured, in a voice so low it brushed only your ears, “Everyone except for one.”

A faint smile, almost imperceptible, tugged at the corner of your lips. Two. You answered in your head, a conversation flickering between the two of you without a single word spoken.

It was a secret message only he could decipher, similarly to how the hint of affection now hidden in his gaze was something only you could see. This was your secret language, born from shared peril on the field, one you had perfected through stolen glances, clandestine touches, and secretive moments like this.

“Goodness! I should invite Erwin more often!” your father jumped excitedly, his eyes widening at the sight of the overflowing platter your mother brought in. “I'd ask what the occasion is for all this hospitality, but it’s not every Saturday we have the Survey Corps commander over for dinner, is it?”

You chuckled as you carefully arranged the small pies your mother had brought on individual saucers, each one holding their very own miniature piece of sunshine: the vibrant yellow slice of tomato you had placed on top.

"Don't forget your vegetables, everyone," you teased, placing a dainty silver fork beside each pie.

Though they weren't exactly an everyday treat, tomato pies were a familiar comfort you enjoyed quite often. They were simple, nourishing, not particularly difficult to make, and your mother could practically whip them up in her sleep. Today, however, you understood your father’s surprise. His favorite treat was still familiar in taste, yet transformed in appearance, which you had taken special care with this afternoon, an unusual twist meant to be a delightful surprise for the Commander.

"These look fantastic, Madam," he remarked, taking the plate your mother was offering.

"All credit goes to her," she replied, her hand gesturing your way.

You met his gaze in the middle of the tearoom, another silent exchange passing between you as your lips offered him a small, furtive smile in return.

"A delectable surprise, indeed," the Commander said, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes before they returned to the pastry, his gaze leaving a lingering warmth on your skin as some sort of ‘thank you’ note, perhaps. And then, when he took a bite of the buttery, brandy-infused crust, and the taste made those same lines beside his eyes deepen, a quiet yearning started to bloom within your chest.

Here, in your parent’s tearoom, bathed in the gentle afternoon sunlight and the comforting scent of baking, he seemed a world away from the horrors he faced daily. This was the kind of life he deserved, wasn't it? Quiet, comfortable, a far cry from battles with flesh-eating giants and the mangled pile of bodies they left behind. An afternoon tea with a nice conversation, and a plate of perfectly golden, tomato-topped pies – these were the simple pleasures he rarely, if ever, experienced.

As you watched him savor the pie in quiet appreciation, a sting of possessiveness, sharp and unexpected, twisted in your gut, as you found yourself desperately wishing that you could be the one to create these peaceful moments for him, not just this once, but for a lifetime.

"Sir, Madam," he began suddenly, bringing you back from the sea of thought you drifted to ever so often, "your daughter has a real talent for making the simple appear..." He paused, letting his deep, husky voice please not only your ears, but a secret, sensitive path down your body—a path that, though hidden beneath your dress at the moment, he happened to know very well "...utterly delightful."

The steam escaping from the teapot wasn’t a match for the eager summer now burning between your legs; his lips, as well as the smirk tugging at them, acting as a delicious reminder, both tempting and frustrating, of a desire you couldn't indulge, not while your parents were present at least.

"Thank you, Commander," You answered, your eyes still indulging in the sweet curve of his bottom lip, “but it's truly not difficult when the produce is this beautiful," you said, gesturing towards the vibrant yellow decoration atop the pie. And it was true. The Lemon Blush were a gentle variety. Sweet, sunshine-colored things, their bottoms blushed in lovely sunset pink. “Truly a pleasure to work with," you finished, your smiling lips tainted with a bit of mischief that betrayed you weren’t referring to the fruit exclusively.

A soft chuckle escaped his in response. Like honey on a summer afternoon, you loved the way it lingered in the air: the sound of his laughter, a sweet reminder that beautiful things still existed, a melody you always replayed in your head, long after it was gone.

Still wearing the same smile on your lips, you settled beside your mother, whose vigilant eyes you suddenly became very aware of, and when you turned to face her, you were not met with her characteristic warmth, but with the unreadable mask she now wore over her features. Your entire face started to mirror the blush of the tomatoes themselves upon realizing she had been watching you intently, it was unclear how long, but it was certainly long enough to make your joyful demeanor falter, your smile vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

Luckily for you though, your father, always blissfully immune to any type of awkward tension, unknowingly came to your aid with a hearty chuckle. "Don't let her fool you, Erwin. Most nights, it's a way simpler fare in this household."

You flashed him a playful glare, his intervention momentarily making you forget about the weight settling within you.

“Seems ages since my darling daughter graced us with her culinary flair. Last winter, wasn’t it? Can you believe it? Ha! How long must a poor old man wait for his sweet buttercup to spoil him again!” your father continued, a touch of mock-hurt in his voice, and your eyes involuntarily rolled at his words.

“Admittedly, it was a special occasion back then too,” he conceded, his voice adopting that pretentious tone he reserved for embellishing stories, for making them grander than reality. The playful glint in his eyes gave away the exaggerated version of whatever tale he was about to tell, even though his lips were yet to utter a single word. “Hansel’s nephew, a fine young lord, came to formally request my daughter’s hand in marriage,” he finished with a conceited smile, his mouth blissfully stuffed with cake and a large crumb clinging to his beard, sweetly oblivious to the way his words had dragged your heart to the very pits of your stomach.

-

next chapter

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[legend-the-dumb-jock]

I'd love a transformation.

I'd fucking love to turn into a huge young bodybuilder with a tendency to reek of sweat and belch uncontrollably.

There's only upsides to a transformation like this

You're wanting a change that so many others are wanting. The problem with your request is that your already doomed for this lifestyle anyway. You're just wanting to speed it up and i am more than happy to make that happen. You think its hard finding shoes o fit those clown-like feet now just wait till I am done. You'' wish for these days of the past.

A wave ripples through your apartment. Chairs becoming workout benches. College study bookings becoming a pile of weights. A sit up bar hanging on the wall and in the middle of the room is a bar for doing pull ups. Instantly the wave has transfers your apartment from being normal into an industrial style apartment that is more of a gym than anything. There are no chairs anymore. Only weight benches. Tv? Forget it. That’s turned into a punching bag. You’re kitchen. That’s going to be the smallest thing in your apartment. Now. You’re going to live off protein shakes and store bought grilled chicken and rice. Anything and everything g will be in the microwave for you. Anything to save space from the at home gym that is going. To be your home. Bed? Nah you’re going to sleep on gym mats now.

You may think it harsh but all these changes are necessary for you to become the muscle addicted muscle beast destiny is going to force on you now.

You’re not even aware that all this happened to your apartment. You’re in the middle of a college exam when your vision gets slightly blurry. Going slightly off and you chuckle slightly. Drool slips from your mouth and you don’t even notice that time is ticking by while your head only gets foggier and foggier. You aren’t even aware that your body begins to pack on muscle. You’re terms quickly splitting the sleeves on your shirt while you abs bulbs from your stomach. Your chest form a perfect shift while you are shifted pears as not only your spine lengthens but your butt plumps up. Your shoulders round out and your jaw begins to square while the your hair begins to get blonder. You can’t even help when you start to burp. Stumbling to the front of the glass to hand you test i while your shoes split open and you pants split. Your shirt rips off your body and you belch in the teachers horrified face. Yeah. You’re getting kicked out for good this time.

You have to walk back to your apartment in your underwear. But the whole time your body is still changing. You made a wish to be young. Muscled. Roided. And you’re going to have just that. Being 21 and having enough roids in your system to power a football team should do it. Your back spasms as it grows even wider than it was before. Every muscle all the way down to your butt pulsating as it growing larger. Making you an absolute freak of a muscle mass.

Your feet spasm as they finally break free of the remanned of the socks and shoes. Bursting past the size 15 enclosures they were stuck in before and only stopping when then reach a massive size 20. And boy do they itch. Sweat. And smell. Your dumb brain so overloaded with all the muscle and smell you’re not even sure what to do with your self as you continue to burp nonstop. And it’s disgusting protein burps. Protein bar wrappers litter the floor of your apartment and stick to your massive feet while you walk across the floor to the weight machines and begin to workout. You’re finishing your chest pump and you head to a machine when you feel some pressure building from your stomach. And without warning you belch the louder and hardest you ever have. When doing so you stomach bloats out into a roided muscle gut. You try to suck it in but you can’t.

Working your abs only proves to make the muscle gut harder and stick out more. You can barely bend down to reach you large clown like feet now just to pull the dirty food wrappers of them. Your gut churns. Demanding you feed your massive roided frame and in the makeshift kitchen you make a whole blender full of protein shakes. Moaning in ecstasy as the protein makes the pain disappear. In a mirror you’re flexing and looking at your massive 7ft tall roofed body. You continue drinking your shake until it’s done and you let out a loud nasty protein burp. You make it to the counter just in time though because then your body began to tense again. You could feel it. You look down and you muscles your bulking bigger! Wonder. Making your heavier than you can have ever imagined. At this point you can even see your feel anymore from your chest and gut being in the way. You’re breathing heavy from all the mass weight you down. All the mass making you struggle to walk. Making you struggle to do the simplest tasks. And what worse is that you’re already hungry again. And only the protein shakes that make you larger will be able to make the pain go away.

[justmeinadaze]

Hearrrrrrr me out...a steamy, smutty Eddie fic based off of "Fire Up the Night" by New Medicine. Every time I hear it, I think of reader just...ruining Eddie 🫠

A/N: I'm sorry it took me awhile to get to this. It takes me time with certain requests. I hope this fits what you imagined. I started writing one thing and then went the other way and then started over again lol Idk.

Warnings: Passionate (slight rough) smut, choking, spanking, daddy kink (cause I'm me), edging, etc :)

Word Count: 1395

Eddie Asks

Eddie groans, pulling at the handcuffs that have him chained to your headboard as your tongue runs along the tattoo on his chest. 

“Aw. What’s the matter, rockstar? You don’t like a little baby like me teasing you?”

“Keep on playing, little girl, and I’ll make you regret it.”, he threatens as he leans forward to capture your lips right as you giggle and pull away.

“How are you going to do that in this position?” You smile as you dip your fingers into the waistband of your panties and begin rubbing circles against your clit. “I don’t need you to make me cum, rockstar. See?”

“No one, not even you, can make you cum as hard as I can. You need me, sweetheart.”

You continue to laugh as you lean your forehead over his, your moans warming his lips. 

“Prove it.”

Eddie wakes up with a start…and a massive hard on. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.”, he growls as he searches for his sweats and some shoes. “This girl is going to fucking kill me.”

***

You didn’t hear the front door open but you vaguely caught the pounding of feet on the stairs before the bathroom door flew open and your shower curtain was pulled back. 

“Eddie! Jesus Christ! What are you—”

His lips cut you off as they feverish dance with yours and he wraps you up in his embrace while climbing in. The metalhead’s tank and pants stick to his skin but he doesn’t care. All that matters is the taste of your tongue as it glides along his own. Resting his arm on the tile beside your head, you both moan as he grinds his bulge against your core. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair as his heated kisses trail to your neck. 

“F-Fuck, Eddie, baby. Please.”

Roughly, he spins you around, pressing your face against the tile as he digs into his soaking sweatpants to pull out his cock. You both groan as he teases your folds with his tip, gliding it through your slick as he watches with pure delight. Abruptly, he smacks your ass but before you can even register it, he guides himself into your entrance. 

With one hand grasping your shoulder and the other resting on your stomach, he sets an animalistic pace. With no foreplay, he’s stretching your walls more so than he normally would but you can’t help to enjoy the slight sting as it’s followed by him hitting your sensitive spot with just as much force. 

“Eddie, that-that feels…oh my god. It’s too much.”

The metalhead’s breath warms your ear as he leans his chest onto your back. 

“You can take it, baby. Tell me how good my dick feels.”

“So…so good. Eddie, PLEASE! I’m gonna…”

The hand on your tummy slides down between your legs making you whimper as he rubs circles against your clit. 

“What are you gonna? You gonna cum, baby girl?” Nodding, you roll your hips back against his own, your mouth falling open as you came. “Fuck—that’s a good girl. Make a mess on my cock.”

He continues to pound into you till he feels your body stop trembling against his. Hastily, he pulls out and you whine at the loss. After turning off the shower, he yanks off his wet clothes, leaving them behind as he collects you in arms and carries your dripping wet frame to your bed. 

Falling back first, he maneuvers your body till your knees are on either side of his head and he pins you still with his limbs securely wrapped around your waist. 

You jolt as his tongue licks a stripe between your lips and you feel him smirk at your sensitivity. As Eddie’s mouth wraps around your clit, your eyes roll as you lean back into his hold.

“Honey…I…”

When your eyes opened again, they met his as he watched your body shake and move above him. 

“Look at you…fucking falling apart…on just my tongue.”, he teases between long flicks. “No one can make you feel as good as I do, baby. Not even you.”

Your breathy giggle catches his attention as you reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair and lightly tug it back. 

“Aw. Was poor rockstar feeling insecure? Needed to prove to his baby that he’s better than a vibrating machine?” A wicked grin spreads across your face before you say the one thing you know will rile him up more. “I didn’t know my Daddy needed that validation.”

Those beautiful brown eyes you love promptly set ablaze as he pushed you up and climbed on top of you, pinning you to the mattress by your wrists. 

“I don’t need validation, sweetheart. I just need to make sure you understand that all your pleasure comes from me.” There’s a defiance in your gaze that, if possible, makes him harder. He enjoys picking you apart and you know it allowing him to any chance you get. 

You both groan as he guides his cock into your body and thrusts into you with a rough abandon that has your toe curling. Eddie’s teeth dig into that sweet spot on your neck making you whimper as you push back against his hold.

“That’s it, baby. Don’t stop.”

As the coil in your stomach winds, he feels your pussy tighten around him and he grunts at the feeling before abruptly pulling out of you.

“Shit.”, Eddie moans as he taps your bundle of nerves with his length causing you to jump.

“Please…Please, Daddy. I want to cum again.”

With a big tooth filled grin, he glides his tip through your arousal watching with a giddy pride as you beg and tremble in front of him. 

“Kind of greedy, sweetheart. Didn’t I make you cum in the shower?” Gripping the base, he slides his cock into you before pulling all the way back out, chuckling as your cunt constricts trying to keep him inside of you. Leaning over you, his palm takes hold of your throat and lightly squeezes as he grinds his dick between your legs. “You know what Daddy wants to hear, baby girl.”

“No one—mmm—no one can make me fell as good as you. Not—fuck—not even me.”

With his free hand, he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and pushes it to your chest as he enters you once again. 

“Who do you belong to, Y/N?” In this position, he’s so deep inside of you that you can’t even fathom words to respond. “Come on, princess. You can do it. Tell me who you belong to.”

“Y-You…Eddie.”

“Good girl, sweetheart.”, he coos as he slams his hips into yours. “Good girl. You feel so fucking good. Cum for me pretty girl.”

His pace quickens, his eyes never leaving your face as your pussy tightens around him and you cum hard around him. Releasing his hold on you, his head falls into the nook of your neck as he chases his high, grunting expletives as he fills you up.

Eddie doesn’t immediately move, panting against your skin as your arms circle around him and he feels you run your fingers through his hair.

“So, do you want to talk about it or was I just lucky?”

His belly shakes as he laughs, pushing up on his elbows as he looks down at you with nothing but care. 

“I had a dream about you.”

“Oh? A good dream?”

“Always when it comes to you.”

Grinning, you crane your neck to kiss his lips. You wince as he pulls out, collecting you in his arms as he takes you back to your shower, and moves his damp clothes out of the way.

Standing under the hot water, he holds you to him as his he tenderly kisses your lips. 

“You know if you moved in with me, I wouldn’t have to break down your door so late.”

“Eddie Munson, is that your way of asking me to come live with you?”

“Maybe.”, he teases making you giggle. “I miss you when you aren’t with me. And not just sexually. I mean…I just I love you…I feel less lonely…happy.”

Hearing him stumble over his words has you blushing as you guide his lips back down to yours. 

“Ok.”

“Yeah?”, his voice cracks in excitement as he hugs you close. 

“Of course. I’m yours until you die, rockstar.”