#especially with his little escape attempt

[peachylynnie]

house edge

word count: 3.5k (making up for my absence) synopsis: in which sylus finally talks to you, alone. contains: pt 3 of blackjack, pt 2 of ace, sylus x fem!reader (non mc), moderately obsessive sylus, LOT'S OF TENSION, the twins appear, alcohol consumption, cursing, weapons, violence (death, mentions of suicide), and references to gambling. a/n: house edge refers to the odds advantage in the house/dealer's favor. haha this totally isn't late haha. i'm back in school and wifi sucks so this took awhile. i still hope you enjoy. reblogs and comments are always appreciated. lmk if you want to be tagged for the rest of the series. tagged: @sprout341 @miffysoo previous chapter | lads masterlist | next chapter

before he can savor that addictive look on your face (he couldn't care less about the cards), sylus' phone rings.

"tch," he clicks his tongue, ready to decline whoever's interrupting his moment with you.

however, his brows furrow upon reading who's calling.

the twins.

sylus curses under his breath as he stands up. he can't reject their call. he's made it clear to them that they should call only when it's important.

"i'll get back to you on my wager soon, gentlemen," he says as he strides towards the door, ignoring sherman and his lackey's frantic attempts at a compromise. "sweetie," he nods at you, brings the phone to his ear, and steps out of the lounge.

as sherman and his lackey lunge for sylus' cards to search for signs of foul play, you frown at the door he just closed.

this guy. he's no ordinary guy. of course, you knew that when your handler stationed you here. he's the head of onychinus for fuck's sake, the infamous person who runs the infamous faction that runs the infamous n109 zone. but seriously? anyone in their right mind would stay after seeing the hands on the table, especially after a whole night of losing. your handler emphasized that despite how much the rumors about him vary, they all point to him being a cunning man, capable of bringing a rival faction to their knees in less than a day. 

it’s not like he’s a gambling addict either. you’ve seen your fair share of them, and they all have this crazed look in their eyes. but no, this fucker gave you the most smug look before tapping the table. it's almost as if he knew he was going to win.

"hey, we need you at the bar," your one-day manager calls for you. "lounge's closing in five minutes."

"yeah," you exhale a deep breath. you need to calm down. it’s bad enough you lost your composure (in front of the head of onychinus of all people). for now you’ll focus on what’s important: no longer the commission but getting out of here. as soon as the last cup is put away, you’ll ring for transportation and book it. 

"goodnight gentlemen," you step away from the table. sherman and his lackey stand up in pursuit. "i would advise against any attempts at violence," you say as politely as you can. "this is a lounge, after all. one that is closing too. have some tact, will you?"

and with that, you walk towards the bar, paying no mind to their insulted faces. if they still decide to follow you, you'll use your evol to the max. you can’t afford to care about anyone who’s within fifty meters anymore. every additional second spent here is jeopardizing your chances of escaping sylus qin. did you see that nod? he's nowhere near done with you.

luckily, you don't hear footsteps chasing you. once you reach the bar, you quickly scan the lounge before collecting the empty glasses. 

all seemed well for a moment. there were little signs of your one-day manager assigning you more tasks. there were many signs of sherman and his lackey waltzing out. most importantly, there was every sign of you finishing your task, meaning you could soon leave without running into a certain silver-haired man.

however, there were no signs of sherman's gun on the table.

♢♢♢♢♢

it's raining by the time sylus leans back against an alleyway, a hand in his pocket and a foot against the wall.

"speak."

"hey boss!" luke and kieran greet simultaneously through the phone.

"you'll never guess what we found out," the older chirps.

"idiot, he's the one who sent us here," the younger reminds.

"what did you just call me?!"

"cut to the chase," sylus snaps. "i'm in a hurry right now." he is very much in a hurry right now, damn it. every additional second spent here is jeopardizing his chances of seizing you, having you. he needs to get back to the lounge as soon as possible. he needs to see you, talk to you, squeeze out of you that enticing look you had on your face less than five minutes ago.

"woah there, boss. is everything okay? you sound tense," luke asks.

sylus sighs, pinching his nose bridge. "yes, everything is fine, luke. thanks for asking." he glances at the rain-covered window across from him to see if you're still at the table. he frowns when he doesn't see you. "did you confirm what i asked you to?"

"yes," kieran answers, earning a grumble from his twin about his stolen thunder. "there are no authentic protocores here at sherman's warehouse. actually, there are no protocores here at all."

"seems like he was trying to strike us a deal with nothing," luke pipes in.

"how disappointing," sylus chuckles drily. "not surprising, though."

"should we go after him, boss?" the twins excitedly suggest at the same time.

"no need," sylus peels himself off the wall and moves over to the window for a better view. "i'll take care of him myself," he assures as he wipes the glass. he's delighted to find you at the bar drying a glass while sherman and his lackey make their way towards the exit, which leads right into the alleyway he's in. "in fact, i'll take care of him right now."

and with that, he hangs up the call. right on cue, sherman and his lackey step out of the lounge, their faces twisted with frustration from all the losses they experienced tonight. however, their faces immediately morph into fear upon seeing the head of onychinus.

"gentlemen," sylus smirks as he pockets his phone. "i just heard something very interesting."

in a blink of an eye, bloody, inky wisps wrap around the two men's necks and slam them into the wall. the very wall the feared man was leaning on moments ago. how unfortunate.

"w-wait," sherman chokes out. "let's t-talk about t-this."

"what could there possibly be to talk about, sherman?" sylus mocks with crossed arms. "surely not the fact that you tried to deal me not even fake protocores but none at all?"

one would find it difficult to determine if the two men were going pale from the lack of air or the abundance of fear. perhaps both. how unfortunate.

"no matter," sylus shakes his head. "let's talk about my wager instead, shall we?"

the air shifts as his evol tightens around sherman and his lackey's necks. the crimson and ivory tendrils rampage faster and faster, signaling for a brutal execution to come, a signature move every bastard in the n109 zone is aware of. however, the dreaded crushing and disintegration of flesh never comes. seizing this chance, sherman desperately searches for something in his pocket. 

“looking for this?” 

his eyes widen upon seeing his gun in sylus’ hand. 

nobody, not a single one of you, noticed him swipe the gun before leaving. 

“now, about my wager,” sylus cocks the gun. “how about your lives?” he aims at the drenched forehead of its owner. “surely it’s the least both of you can do after trying to trick me.” he places a finger on the trigger. “again.”

before sherman can open his pathetic mouth, sylus pulls the trigger, a glorious bang ringing through the rainy night sky. he doesn’t give the lackey a chance to mourn. instead, he gives him the same fate as his employer: a bullet lodged deep into his skull. not a single one of them was worth his evol. 

wiping the blood off his cheek, sylus tuts. “felled by your own gun.” he releases his evol. “how unfortunate.” 

after chucking the gun on the floor, he approaches the entrance of the lounge. he doesn’t have time to clean up the corpses. he’ll just escort you out another way (yes, this man plans to accompany you wherever you go after tonight). unable to hide his frenzied smile, he grips the door handle and steps in. 

♢♢♢♢♢

the brief pitter-patter of rain let in by the door should’ve been your first sign to hightail it out of here. the silver-haired man who’s currently seated at the bar with an elbow planted should’ve been your second. the red hungry eyes trailing over your figure most definitely should’ve been your third. 

but you’re too busy drying the glasses with your back turned. big mistake. 

“a glass of gin fizz, please.”

you still.

“make that two, actually,” he adds. 

you don’t turn around. you don’t dare to. instead, you slowly grab the last glass, prepared to put it away. 

“i’m afraid the lounge is closed, mr. sylus,” you counter gracefully. 

the man chuckles, leaning back in the stool. “surely this lounge can make an exception for the head of onychinus.”

“of course!” your manager dashes out of the employees' room, eager to earn the lounge additional funds. “what are you doing?!” she scolds you with what she thinks is your name. you’re thankful you have an alias tonight because the idea of sylus knowing your identity turns your stomach, which you’re sure is what he’s trying to do by ordering two glasses past closing time. “pour him a glass of gin fizz!” she instructs and dashes back into the employees’ room. you resist the urge to curse when you hear the employees’ entrance lock, meaning she clocked out for the night, meaning it was just you and sylus. couldn’t she have just made the drinks herself if she wanted the additional funds that badly?

exhaling deeply, you use the glass in your hand to scoop up some ice. no point in resisting. last thing you want is for your handler to nag you for not cooperating with the client’s staff, especially when you already gave up on the commission. might as well just get this over with.

“i wouldn’t scoop the ice first if i were you, sweetie,” sylus snaps you out of your thoughts. “it’ll dilute the alcohol.”

you don’t say anything. you just grab a bottle of gin and pour it into a jigger. your customer scoffs. 

“are you ignoring me, sweetie?”

you pour the gin into a shaker and squeeze some lemon juice. 

“if you’re upset about something, then you should tell me.”

you take out the simple syrup from the fridge and pour it into the jigger.

“how about this?” he starts. 

you add the syrup to the shaker along with three ice cubes. 

“i ask you a question, and you ask me a question.” 

you equip the shaker with its strainer and start shaking it violently. 

“aren’t you curious as to how i won?” 

you freeze. only now do you feel the chill of the liquor from the shaker. 

“go ahead, sweetie,” sylus coaxes, thrilled to finally have your attention. “ask. i know you want to. your face back there said it all.”

placing the shaker down, you open its lid, pour its contents into the ice-filled glass, add a generous amount of soda water, turn around, and slam the glass in front of sylus. 

that’ll shut him up for a minute or two. 

but it takes everything in you not to gasp when you look up from the glass. 

since when was it raining outside? he’s seated with his shiny, silvery hair messily slicked back, beads of water slowly dripping down his face and neck, his drenched button-up suit clinging onto his chest and forearms for dear life, and his ruby-streaked blazer not only hanging from his broad shoulders but also adding to the puddles forming beneath the stool.

you make a mental note to inform your handler that the head of onychinus is NOT some old, short man with a face only a mother could love, like some of the rumors say. 

enjoying your gaze on him, sylus tilts his head teasingly. “well?”

you can’t back down. it sounds like he won’t either until you talk to him. pinning your hands on the counter, you lean in. “why did you hit? you knew your chances were low, even after looking at my cards.” 

he doesn’t answer immediately. it’s your turn to expect something from him, want something from him. it’s the least you could do after driving him in circles the whole night. besides, he wants a closer look at your face; commit it to memory in case you even think about leaving without compensating him for the absolute torture you put him through. 

after taking a slow sip from the glass, sylus asks, “ever heard of gambling addicts, sweetie?”

you squint at him. “yes, but you aren’t one.” 

“oh,” he quirks a brow. “so you know of me?” 

“everyone in the n109 zone knows who you are, mr. sylus.”

“yes, but you aren’t from the n109 zone, miss dealer.” 

you tense. although the shift in your shoulders was incredibly tiny, it was taken hostage by his eyes. he’s impressed by how controlled your reactions are. 

but now it's his turn to ask.

standing up from his stool, sylus leans in dangerously close and whispers, “what brings you to the n109 zone, sweetie?”

you don’t answer. but you don’t back away either. sylus likes that. he likes what’s happening right now. when was the last time he felt this ecstatic from a conversation? even though your answers were cryptic, he was able to conclude that you come from a place or are in a position where his existence is made aware, and probably in certain detail too, given your insistence on him not being a gambling addict. when was the last time he had a gin fizz that tasted this good? he’s delighted the serving he had at the previous table was also made by you (how does this psycho know that). and most importantly, when was the last time he felt threatened? something is unsettling about the way you won every single game tonight, with a look of indifference too. 

by chance, are you an evolver?

“i assure you, i am from here, mr. sylus,” you answer with a small smile. it doesn't reach your eyes. removing your hands from the counter (he frowns when you do), you turn around to make another glass. hopefully his previous request for two will serve as a distraction. “you’re welcome to look into my name, but i’m sure the head of onychinus has better things to do than to worry about some dealer.” 

sylus laughs. he actually laughs. although it isn’t loud, the intervals as to which his rich voice seeps through are enough to convey that your lie hasn’t convinced him. “sweetie,” he shakes his head endearingly and sits down. “because i am the head of onychinus, everything and everyone in the n109 zone is subjected to my worrying, including intruders who use fake names.” 

you spin back around, your eyes full of alarm. how does he know about your alias? no, how does he even know you’re not from here? from the beginning, that’s what he’s been insisting on. there’s no way someone as busy as him could know about every single person residing in the n109 zone. at least, that’s what your handler said (oh how wrong she was). 

“do you truly expect me to believe that is your name?” sylus repeats your alias with scorn. it’s an injustice to your frame. “it doesn’t suit you. you need to pick better names, sweetie.

what the fuck. he’s convinced you’re an intruder because your alias doesn’t suit you?! this guy. this guy’s not sane. that’s it. now you really need to get out of here. glaring at him, you snatch his glass and dump its contents down the drain. damn it, you wasted too much time. he got you. he got you good. he never intended to uphold his “a question for a question” deal in the first place, given his bullshit answer about gambling addicts. 

“i’m afraid i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie through gritted teeth. “now excuse me, mr. sylus. the lounge was supposed to close fifteen minutes ago.” 

sylus licks his lips. he can almost taste the frustration in your face and voice. it’s intoxicating. that’s the second time he’s forced a reaction out of you. how much more until you beg him to stop? 

“of course, miss dealer,” he concedes mockingly. "allow me to escort you out.”

“that won’t be necessary,” you hiss. “my car is right around the alleyway.” 

“still,” he blocks you from exiting the bar. “it’s dark and raining outside. it’s the least i could do to pay for the drink.” 

“money will do,” you frown. 

“i’m afraid i’m all out, sweetie,” he smiles. “you did quite the number on me, after all.” 

you scoff. not only is his smile shameless, but so is his lie. you may not be from here, but you know damn well it’s going to take an eternity of games to even leave a dent in the head of onychinus’ bank account. you glance at the clock. you should have called for transportation by now. technically, you still can, but you need to be outside. and it doesn’t look like he’ll let you go anytime soon unless you accept his offer. 

“you can walk me to the alleyway,” you sigh. 

“not to your car?”

you scowl at him. don’t push it. 

sylus chuckles and steps aside. when you exit the bar with a huff, he can’t help but think you look like a cat, a cute little one who scratches when agitated. perhaps kitten will be what he calls you next. 

after turning off the lights, you step out of the lounge. only to freeze in your tracks.

corpses.

corpses of the two people involved in your commission. narrowing your eyes, you notice a bullet wound in each of their foreheads. you scan the ground, searching for any traces of the murderer. however, your blood runs cold when something catches your eye. sherman’s gun. you crouch to pick it up. did he kill himself? no, that doesn’t explain why his lackey has the same wound. 

“ah,” sylus interrupts your thoughts. “i forgot to escort you out the other way. my apologies, kitten.”

he knows violence doesn’t faze you as it normally would for any other outsider. still, he didn’t want you to see this kind of violence since there’s a substantial difference between witnessing an arm get crushed and witnessing the glassy eyes of lifeless bodies. 

though, he supposes he worried for nothing since you’re being eerily quiet with your eyes fixated on the gun. 

skillfully, you unload the gun. no bullets left. you exhale deeply. from the looks of it, sylus killed them since he knew the bodies would be here. furthermore, he used sherman’s gun, which initially only had two bullets, given the lack of bullet marks in the alleyway. you just happened to miss the sound of gunfire since you were too occupied. but if that’s the case, that means sherman and his lackey died quite the unfortunate death where the former’s gun was their undoing and no one could’ve heard them, which means… your evol. it did its job. too good of a job. 

“at least the commission is complete,” you murmur. 

sylus furrows his brow. “you, what did you just say?”

for a moment, all that is heard is the downpour of rain and the distant rumbling of thunder. 

you pull out your phone and press a contact. “delilah, open it now.” 

“what?”

you sprint down the alleyway, not bothering to acknowledge his confusion. 

sylus immediately chases after you, his legs moving like never before. shit, you completely took him by surprise. what was that phone call? no, what did you mean by a completed commission? and why do you know how to unload a gun? clenching his jaw, he prepares to teleport to the end of the alleyway, determined to intercept you. he’ll be damned if he lets you escape. 

although he blinks to the end of the alleyway, you make a sharp turn, evading his outstretched arm. 

“tch,” sylus clicks his tongue before continuing his pursuit. however, you make another turn around the corner, giving you three seconds out of his sight. 

by the time sylus turns around the corner, you’re gone. not a single trace of you left behind. but what infuriates him more is that this is a dead end. not a single way out but the way he got here. he slams a fist in the wall, ignoring the blood that seeps down and the deep cracks in the bricks. using his free hand, sylus pulls out his phone and dials his most recent contact. 

“luke. kieran. get me access to the cameras surrounding this lounge,” he spits the lounge’s name. “now.” 

♢♢♢♢♢

you breathe rapidly as you fall onto the floor, your throat burning and your ears ringing. you’ve never run so fast in your life. 

“welcome back,” a smooth voice says your name. your actual name. 

you look up to face your means of transportation, delilah. 

“what the— did it rain over there?” an acute voice asks. 

stella, your handler enters your vision. 

both of them reach out a hand for you to take. 

you begrudgingly accept and swiftly walk towards the door, eager to give yourself a fucking break after all that happened today. 

“what’s the rush?” delilah asks with a yawn. “don’t tell me you failed the commission—"

"how was your first time in the n109 zone?” stella interjects, warning delilah with her eyes. 

you pause before turning the knob. 

“never send me there again.”

[mrs-delaney]

Hide | An Unexpected Invitation | Chapter Two

Summary: Riley Carter never expected much from a simple text asking if she liked food, but Joe Burrow's direct approach catches her off guard in the best way. Between late nights at Electric Lady Studios finishing her band's new album and her growing anticipation for their first real date, Riley finds herself drawn to the NFL quarterback's refreshing authenticity. After a messy public breakup left her wary of relationships, especially with someone in the spotlight, she's surprised by her willingness to break her own rules for Joe. As their text exchanges and late-night calls deepen their connection, Riley faces a decision: maintain the careful distance she's built around her heart, or take a chance on someone new.

Pairings: Joe Burrow x Riley Carter (OC)

Word Count: 3.2k

Requested: No | Yes

Warnings: Mild language, flirty banter, mentions of past toxic relationships, public scrutiny, and undeniable chemistry.

This story is ONLY posted on Wattpad and Tumblr under miss_delaney. If you see it anywhere else, it has been stolen. Do NOT copy, repost, translate, or distribute my work on any other platform. Please respect my writing.

Want to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or message me! 💕

Requests: Open

Author’s Note: Here we go! Sorry its late. This chapter is all about setting the foundation for Joe and Riley’s dynamic—playful, unexpected, and just a little bit risky. I love writing those early moments where two people click without fully realizing what they’re getting into. Their chemistry is building, and things are definitely about to get interesting. Let me know what you think! 😊💛

Riley stared at her phone, thumb hovering over the screen as she read Joe's message again.

Joe QB🏈: Do you like food?

A laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it. Was this his idea of a smooth opener? It was so direct, so oddly simple, that she couldn't help but find it endearing. She'd had guys slide into her DMs with carefully crafted messages, obviously rehearsed lines, and pretentious attempts at intellectual conversation. But "Do you like food?" That was new.

She tapped out a response, deliberately matching his directness with a hint of playfulness.

Riley 🎤: Yes, QB. I like food. Love it, actually. I'm always down for a nice meal.

She hit send and set her phone down on the kitchen counter of her rented NYC apartment, turning her attention back to the coffee brewing in front of her. The rich aroma filled the small space, mingling with the distant wail of sirens and the perpetual hum of the city that filtered through her half-open window. She was only in the city for another week—just long enough to finish the studio sessions for her band's new album before heading back to LA for meetings with their label. She wasn't expecting a quick response—the guy probably had a rigorous schedule with his sponsor events and appearances while he was in town. But barely thirty seconds later, her phone buzzed.

Joe QB🏈: Alright then, wanna come over Friday night? I'll cook you dinner.

Riley nearly choked on her coffee. Well, that was unexpected. Not the invitation itself—she'd had plenty of those—but the casual confidence behind it. No "maybe we could" or "if you're free sometime." Just a straightforward invitation to his place, with the added detail that he'd be cooking. It struck her as both presumptuous and refreshing.

She hesitated, finger hovering over the keyboard. The sensible response would be to suggest a restaurant instead—something public, neutral, safe. That's what her publicist would advise. Hell, that's what she would advise any of her friends. Never go to a guy's place for a first date.

But then again, this wasn't exactly a normal situation. They'd already met on national television. He'd already admitted to having a crush on her in front of millions of viewers. And something about his straightforward approach intrigued her.

Riley 🎤: You're telling me Joe Burrow can cook?

His reply came almost instantly.

Joe QB🏈: Don't sound so surprised. I can follow a recipe.

She grinned, shaking her head at his confidence.

Riley 🎤: Guess we'll see if they're as good as your QB skills.

Setting down her phone, Riley leaned against the kitchen counter and took another sip of her coffee, a strange flutter of anticipation settling in her stomach. She'd just agreed to a date—was it a date?—with Joe Burrow. The same Joe Burrow who'd turned bright red on The Tonight Show when she'd walked out. The same Joe Burrow who'd kissed her cheek and asked for her number with that endearing mix of confidence and nervousness.

It had only been a few days since The Tonight Show, but Riley's life already felt a little... different. Not dramatically so—she was still working with her bandmates on their new album, still navigating the busy recording schedule, still trying to make the most of their limited time in NYC. But there was something new weaving its way through the familiar rhythms of her life: the constant presence of Joe Burrow in her text messages.

She wasn't sure what had possessed her to say yes to his casual "I'll cook you dinner" text, but here she was, letting him monopolize her phone in the best way possible. What started as a simple exchange about food turned into hours of texting—playful, funny, and way too easy.

Each notification from him sent a little jolt of anticipation through her system—a feeling she hadn't experienced in years. Maybe it was the novelty of it all. Or maybe it was just him.

She liked his sense of humor. It wasn't forced or over the top; it was subtle, the kind of humor that made her laugh without even realizing she was smiling. And he paid attention. He actually asked her questions, remembered things she'd told him, and sent follow-up texts that felt genuine rather than perfunctory.

Like yesterday, when she'd mentioned in passing that she was trying to cut back on caffeine, and twelve hours later, he'd texted to ask how the caffeine withdrawal was going. It was such a small thing, but so few people actually listened to the details.

Joe Burrow was nothing like she'd expected.

She wasn't sure what she'd expected. Most athletes she'd encountered at industry events or award shows had come across as cocky—all swagger and practiced charm, their public personas polished to a shine. But Joe seemed different. He texted like a normal person—sometimes with perfect grammar, sometimes with abbreviations, occasionally with a meme that made no sense out of context but somehow made her laugh anyway.

There was something steady about him that settled her, a calm confidence that never veered into arrogance. In an industry where she was constantly surrounded by big personalities and bigger egos, his groundedness felt like stepping into a quiet room after hours in a crowded club.

And maybe that was why she didn't slam on the brakes like she normally would have. Why she was willing to consider having dinner at his place rather than insisting on a public restaurant with an escape route.

With a sigh, Riley set her empty coffee mug in the sink and headed to the studio. She had work to do, and she couldn't spend the entire morning analyzing text messages like a teenager. But as she settled in front of her keyboard, her phone buzzed again.

Joe QB🏈: What are you up to tonight?

She smiled, typing back quickly.

Riley 🎤: At Electric Lady. Long night ahead.

The response was immediate.

Joe QB🏈: What's Electric Lady?

Riley stared at the screen, momentarily taken aback. Was he serious? Electric Lady was legendary—practically hallowed ground for musicians. But then again, not everyone lived in her world, did they?

Riley 🎤: You're kidding.

Joe QB🏈: I'm not.

She shook her head, smiling despite herself. There was something endearing about his willingness to admit he didn't know something.

Riley 🎤: It's only one of the most iconic recording studios in NYC. Hendrix built it. Bowie recorded there. Springsteen, Patti Smith, The Clash... Do I need to keep going?

Joe QB🏈: Alright, alright. I get it. Sounds cool.

Riley snorted. "Sounds cool." As if she'd mentioned a trendy new coffee shop rather than one of the most significant musical landmarks in the city.

Riley 🎤: Cool doesn't even begin to cover it. It's my happy place when I'm in the city. Something about the history in those walls... it's like you can feel it when you're creating there.

There was a pause before his next message—longer than his previous replies had been.

Joe QB🏈: You sound like you're working late a lot this week.

The observation surprised her. Most people—especially people she'd just met—didn't notice or comment on her schedule unless she explicitly mentioned being tired or busy.

Riley 🎤: Yes, we are on a roll. We're finishing the bridge on this new track that's giving us hell. It's either going to be the best thing on the album or drive us all insane before we get it right.

She set her phone down, turning her attention to the keyboard in front of her. Her fingers drifted across the keys, finding the melody that had been haunting her for days—an insistent, driving sequence that contrasted with the vulnerability of the lyrics she'd been working on. It was the kind of song that would have their fans holding up lighters at shows, a perfect arena anthem with just enough raw emotion to make it personal.

But her mind kept drifting back to their conversation. To the way he actually seemed to care about what she was doing, not just when she'd be free to see him.

The rest of the week followed a similar pattern. When she wasn't at Electric Lady, she was either catching up on sleep or texting Joe. It was quickly becoming her favorite way to wind down after her long nights in the studio.

In the back of a sleek black Escalade, Manhattan's lights refracting through rain-streaked windows, her phone lit up with his name. Not a text this time—a call. She hesitated for only a second before answering.

"Isn't it past your bedtime, Burrow?" she teased, leaning back against the leather seat.

A low chuckle filled her ear. "Probably. But I figured you'd still be up."

"Good guess," she replied, watching the city lights blur past her window. "Just heading back to my place from the studio."

"How's the mysterious project going?" he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

This was what continued to surprise her about Joe. He was curious about her work, and unlike other people who would ask about her career out of politeness, Joe actually seemed interested in the details. It threw her off at first. She wasn't used to someone wanting to know her, not just the version of her that showed up on red carpets and album covers.

"It's going well," she said, more openly than she might have with someone else. "Today was mostly vocal tracking—the less glamorous part where I sing the same line fifty times until it's perfect."

"Sounds exhausting," Joe commented.

"It can be. But there's something satisfying about getting it exactly right. The guys are patient, though. Andy, our drummer, is practically a saint when it comes to vocal sessions. Nick keeps us laughing even when we're ready to kill each other over a single note."

"I get that," he said, and she could hear the understanding in his voice. "It's like when we run the same play over and over in practice. Looks boring from the outside, but there's something about the repetition, the precision..."

"Exactly," Riley said, surprised by how well he seemed to understand. "Different fields, same principle. The pursuit of that perfect execution where everything just clicks."

There was a comfortable pause before Joe spoke again. "So, we still on for tomorrow? Or are you going to be too wiped from your late nights?"

She smiled into the darkness of the car. "I'll be there. Seven o'clock, right?"

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I've already started prepping some things."

"Wow, taking this seriously, huh?" she teased.

"Can't have America's dream girl thinking I can't cook, can I?"

Riley groaned at the reference to the media nickname that had stuck after their Tonight Show appearance. "Please don't call me that."

Joe laughed, the sound warm and rich through the phone. "Sorry. Couldn't resist."

"Uh-huh. I'm hanging up now," she said, though there was no bite to her words.

"Goodnight, Riley," he said, his voice softening.

"Goodnight, Joe," she replied, ending the call with a smile lingering on her lips.

The car pulled up to her building, rain now falling in earnest. As she dashed inside, nodding to the night doorman, she realized she was actually looking forward to tomorrow night in a way she hadn't anticipated. There was something about Joe's direct approach, his genuine interest, his unexpected moments of vulnerability that made her want to know more.

Their calls had quickly developed a rhythm of their own. Late at night, her phone would light up just as she was finishing at the studio.

Their conversations rarely lasted more than ten minutes, but she found herself looking forward to them—this small, consistent connection across the miles between their separate worlds.

But as much as she was enjoying their easy back-and-forth, a part of her couldn't help but hesitate. A part of her kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the easy conversations to turn complicated, for the red flags to appear, for the inevitable letdown.

Her last relationship had left scars she hadn't realized were still there. Her ex—another musician, a guitarist whose talent was matched only by his volatility—had been part of her life for far too long. They'd spent years in an on-again, off-again cycle that was as exhausting as it was destructive. The kind of relationship that burned so hot it left everything around it in ashes, including the early days of her band when they were just starting to gain traction.

The breakup had been messy, the kind that made headlines and left her name plastered all over the tabloids. Paparazzi outside her house, speculative articles about who had cheated on whom, invasive questions in interviews that were supposed to be about her band's music. Her personal life dissected on social media by people who knew nothing about the actual relationship.

She still remembered the sting of the public fallout. The embarrassment. The frustration of people weighing in on something they knew nothing about. The way strangers felt entitled to judge her decisions, her emotions, her life.

After finally walking away for good, she'd sworn off relationships entirely. Not just publicly, but privately as well. She'd made a promise to herself: no more losing herself in someone else's orbit, no more putting her needs second, no more drama that derailed her creative focus.

She'd thrown herself into her career, traveled the world alone, and learned how to be happy without needing someone else to fill the gaps. And for the most part, it had worked. She'd become someone she was proud of, someone she didn't think she could've been if she hadn't taken time for herself.

The band's latest album—the one that had catapulted them from indie darlings to mainstream recognition—had emerged from that period of self-discovery. Their sound had evolved into something more powerfully honest, with electric guitar-driven anthems balanced by moments of intimate vulnerability. Critics had praised their ability to blend raw emotional lyrics with radio-ready hooks, and fans had responded to that authenticity in droves.

She still remembered the moment they realized things had changed for good—a sold-out show in London where the entire crowd sang their lyrics back to them so loudly that she'd had to step away from the mic, overwhelmed by the wall of sound. The guys had looked at her with the same stunned expression, all of them realizing simultaneously that they'd crossed some invisible threshold.

After a year of being single, Riley had found a comfortable rhythm in her independence. She'd learned what she actually wanted: someone who would respect her work while still making her feel cherished. Someone who understood her world without trying to dominate it. Despite the walls she'd built during her recovery from that toxic relationship, she was ready to open herself up again—just cautiously, and on her own terms.

So when Joe Burrow appeared with his straightforward texts and genuine interest, she found herself intrigued in a way she hadn't expected. There was something refreshing about his approach, something that made her curious enough to say yes to dinner at his place despite all her usual rules.

The truth was, she wasn't sure she was ready for anything serious, especially given their careers and geographical distance. But for the first time in a long while, she was willing to at least explore the possibility.

Friday morning arrived with unexpected anxiety. Riley found herself second-guessing her decision to go to Joe's place, wondering if she should text to suggest a restaurant instead. But before she could overthink it further, her phone rang.

Riley was still in bed when her phone buzzed, Joe's name lighting up the screen. She groaned softly, pulling the blanket over her head before answering.

"Hello?" Her voice was still husky with sleep.

"Morning, Riley," Joe said, his voice light and teasing. "Just checking to make sure we're still on for tonight."

She rolled onto her back, blinking up at the ceiling as she smirked. "Why are you calling me so early, Burrow? Don't you know I like to sleep late?"

"Early?" Joe laughed, and she could practically hear the grin in his voice. "It's eleven."

"Exactly. Early," she quipped, running a hand through her tangled hair. "I told you I like to sleep late, especially after a long night at the studio."

Joe chuckled on the other end of the line, the sound warm and relaxed. "Guess I'll have to keep that in mind. But I needed to make sure you weren't backing out on me."

There was something in his tone—a hint of vulnerability beneath the confident teasing—that made her heart soften a little. As if despite all his self-assurance, he genuinely wasn't sure she'd show up. It was those glimpses of real person behind the quarterback that kept drawing her in.

She rolled onto her side, smiling to herself. "Not a chance. I'm looking forward to tonight."

Joe's voice was playful when he responded. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she admitted easily, surprising herself with her own honesty. "You say you're cooking a meal for me. That's really sweet. I can't wait to see what you come up with."

"Just a heads-up to manage your expectations," Joe said, a touch of self-deprecation in his voice that she found oddly charming. "We're not talking culinary genius here."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. What time do you want me there?" Riley asked, sitting up and pushing the blankets aside. Sunlight streamed through the gap in her curtains, illuminating dust motes dancing in the still air.

"Seven," he said without hesitation, as if he'd had the time planned all along.

"Perfect," she said, already mentally planning what she was going to wear. Something casual but flattering. Something that said "I made an effort" without screaming "I spent three hours getting ready for you."

She had a busy day ahead—a final vocal session, then a meeting with their manager about the upcoming tour schedule. The album wouldn't be out for months, but they needed to lock in venues for the fall tour now. Eleven cities in fourteen days, starting on the East Coast and working their way west. The thought of the grueling schedule would normally make her anxious, but today it seemed manageable. A problem for future Riley.

There was a brief pause before he added, his voice warm with amusement, "Do I need to send you a calendar invite so you don't forget?"

Riley laughed, the sound more carefree than she'd felt in a while. "I'll be there, Burrow. Don't worry—I wouldn't miss this."

Joe chuckled. "Good. I'll see you tonight then."

"See you tonight," she echoed, ending the call and dropping her phone onto the mattress beside her.

She exhaled, staring at the ceiling for a moment, a strange mix of anticipation and nerves swirling in her stomach. This wasn't just some guy she'd matched with on a dating app. This was Joe Burrow. NFL quarterback. Someone who lived as much in the public eye as she did, whose career came with its own unique pressures and scrutiny. Someone who seemed like he might actually understand her world in a way few others could.

But more than that, this was someone who made her laugh, who paid attention, who showed genuine interest in her life beyond the glamorous surface. Someone who didn't seem intimidated by her success or intent on competing with it.

A slow smile tugged at her lips as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She had a date to prepare for.

Yeah. She was definitely looking forward to this.

[limolib]

Re-blooming

(Alt ending to Wilted lemon trees)

The recruiter x reader

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Warnings; No reader body/race/age descriptions (if any pls lmk), but in my mind there’s an age gap. A little ooc. NO USE OF Y/N, I still don’t refer to the recruiter with a specific name. English is not my first language. Some description of injury.

WC: Just 2k 🤏🏻

Summary; Alt/fluffy ending to wilted lemon trees (for the fluff girliesss). I don’t think this could be read alone tbh :p

A/N: hope you enjoy this cause I wrote it instead of paying attention to my lectures and now I’m hashtag regretting it

He watched through the scope as the car approached his made up end spot. Welcome to the final show. The car you picked out was unassuming, grey and very much a family car but he caught your alias pretty easily. You were speeding down an empty backcountry road, almost at your sweet sweet escape, not on his watch though. He shot the bullet, hitting your tires immediately, causing the car to flip over into a nearby ditch. He abandoned his position, taking his gun with him to ensure the job is done. The wreck caught up in flames, the light from the fire casting a yellow glow onto the surroundings. He approached your position under the turned-over car. Your back was to the ground as your hands were reaching for your gun, but it was too far away, plus he kicked it from your line of sight with his polished shoe. You panted, looking down at your lower body with defeat, the wreckage making it difficult to move. He watched you, so helpless and at his mercy and he couldn’t help but feel a little bad. Just a little.

“Bad time to say that suit looks great on you?” You coughed. “Brings your face out.”

“Get up.” he kicked your side softly, causing you to cough more.

“Way to kick a woman when she’s down.”

The flames from the car had reached your legs, that's for sure, but the fact that you were not crying out in pain right now was concerning.

“Cmon now, don’t give up so easily.” He dropped his weapon, hurrying over to attempt to lift the car a little to give you crawl space. The metal of the door burnt his hands, but he endured, for you. You shimmied out on your elbows and collapsed once more, panting heavily with a bloodied nose from impact. He picked his gun back up and stood over you, feet at your sides with the weapon aimed at your head. Your hands came up slowly in surrender.

“You win.” There was a hint of teasing in your tone, though he was unsure as to why.

His jaw clenched, grip tight on the firearm as he looked into your tired eyes. He needs to do this. Now.

“Just like back in Cairo, huh?” You coughed, causing him to smile a little.

“You and I remember Cairo very differently.”

The memories of that time crawled into his mind involuntarily, especially how the air felt that night. You studied his face from your position on the rough floor, conflicted and hesitant.

“Was this not what you wanted?” You croaked.

He didn’t answer, only kept his gaze trained on your face.

Cairo must’ve left a lasting mark on him.

Your eyes were already getting blurry from a combination of blood loss, the adrenaline wearing off and the newly felt pain.

“Just kill me, babe.” You coughed.

That seemed to do the trick, as he knelt down to smack you on the head with his gun. As you finally succumbed to unconsciousness, you heard a shot ring out, then felt the sharp pain in your abdomen; the final domino in your blacking out spell.

. . .

There was an unfamiliar warmth on your face easing you out of the state you were in. Kind, welcoming, gentle. Your senses began making their way back to you, the sweet birdsong melody engulfing you warmly. There was a waft of fresh air all around, the kind you smell deep in the countryside when the next city isn’t for hours. Then, pain.

So so so much pain, everywhere. At the sensation, your eyes shot open, but they were instantly shot back shut due to the intense light on your pupils. You blinked a few times, willing yourself to beat the force of the sun beaming down on you. When your eyes finally adjusted to lights, you attempted to sit up, wary of the unfamiliarity of the surroundings. It was futile, the pain knocking you immediately back down, a handcuff at your wrist also limiting your movement. You were shackled to the bed. More pain was elicited when you’d attempted to pull on the chain.

“Don’t do that.” You hadn’t even noticed his presence, posted in a dark corner with the light from the window only hitting his lower half. You took a second to take the room in whilst propped up on one arm.

It was a small bedroom with very little indication as to who lived in it before, only a few boxes of belongings strewn about. The floor was a mess, bills and other varieties of papers covering the small carpet. The walls had what you could assume were certificates of achievements adorning them, a wide variety of colours and sizes. By the bed lay a singular teddy bear, brown and innocent, and the only indication of this being a child’s bedroom.

Your eyes made their way back to him, observing as he leaned forward slowly, allowing the sun to hit his blemish-free face. Well, almost blemish free, save for a small scar on the bridge of his nose.

“Kinky” you jiggled the chain.

“You were strongly against any and every form of help I tried to offer you.” He tilted his palm to show a nasty bite mark on it. “You wouldn’t let me stich, sedate or transport you. Or anyone else for that matter. Caused me a lot of trouble.”

He got up slowly from his spot, opening the door by his side and disappearing outside.

You got up as well, the chain being long enough to allow you some movement in the small room. You padded over to the certificates, bare footed and a little cold. They were almost all academic achievements, all dedicated to one-

“Is that your name?” You didn’t have to turn around to feel his presence there behind you.

“Yeah.” His hand came up to your side, grasping your wrist gently to undo the cuff. You couldn’t tear your eyes from his name though, it felt like a gigantic leap forward, like he’d just given you the moon and stars. It was so fitting for him.

“You live here?”

“Used to.”

“And then?”

“You know.”

Growing up, the games, it was a stupid question really, you were just so giddy and so barely able to think straight.

He exited the room wordlessly once more, leaving you to your curious exploration. You lipped over to one of the boxes by the bed, small and unassuming, the outside adorned with little hand drawn hearts and other shapes. Inside, a modest collection of old photos, mostly of him and his father. Camping, fishing, playing, bathing. There were few where his mother made appearances in, mostly just him and his dad. He looked so eerily normal, smiles wide and carefree like he wouldn’t grow up to be a murderer. You must’ve spent a good amount of time flipping through each photograph, soaking in the normalcy they held. The smell of food began filling your senses, alerting you of your previously quiet hunger. You limped over slowly to the door, then out through the hallways to where you could hear some plates and pans clinking. There he was, back to you over the small stovetop cooking what you could assume was a steak. He wore a plain white shirt, a little loose on his form, paired with a pair of plaid pants.

He’s in his pyjamas. You held back a giggle by biting your lip.

You still don’t know why he brought you here, or why he hadn’t killed you yet.

“Is that the only meal you know how to make?”

“You know the answer to that. It’s just convenient. And you need to restore your iron.”

He turned around, revealing a very pretty blue apron with lemons on it. He plated the tempting meal and took the apron off, sitting down on the small kitchen table, opening the seat by his side for you to take. You descended onto the chair slowly, wincing at the pain from your side. He dug into his plate with his usual class, but your curiosity prevented you from eating anything, the questions on your mind already too filling.

“What’s the plan here? Wine, dine and end my bloodline?”

He dropped the utensils, a hand coming up to rub his eyes at your stupid play on words. There was a small smile on his lips when he looked back up at you.

“No. You’re already dead.”

You exaggerate a look around the place, eyes wide and breath loud. “Spooky.”

He gave you a tired look and sighed.

“I regret not killing you.”

“You don’t mean that”

“I do, actually.”

He turned back to his meal, mentally preparing himself for what looks to be a lifetime of lame jokes.

“I faked it all. The body, the death. Had to shoot you for authenticity and all. Also because the bullet had your name so I didn’t want to waste it.”

You poked his side, earning no reaction from him.

“They didn’t check after me, loyalty pays off I guess.”

“Where are we?”

“About an hour drive out of Seoul, it’s cozy here. Has its charm. I can keep you safe and keep my job at the same time.”

“Oh? So when you’re out playing villain, what do I do? I’m not your little housewife.” There was a small smile in your words.

“Is that so bad? Weren’t you the one who wanted white picket fences and wrap-around porches?”

“You wanted it too, hotshot. Or else you wouldn't’ve kept me alive.”

He slumped back, hands dropping the utensils once again, turning his face to look at you.

“Must you be difficult?” He sighed.

Your hand came up to fix his slightly disheveled hair out of his face. “You’re just so entertaining.”

His eyes were on the hand he had on the table now, watching as he cracked knuckle after knuckle, the other hand at his side. He pushed his tongue out into his cheek, taking a few deep breaths to try to cool his anger. His throat bobbed heavily before he pushed up suddenly from his spot, taking a few short strides to the outside. You irritated him endlessly, making his feelings for you all the more infuriating. You followed him a minute later, finding him leaning on the house front, one leg over the other as he watched the empty field opposite. He had his hands in his pockets, jaw clenched tightly as he tapped his head on the wall gently. You brought your hand up to touch his bare bicep, causing him to sigh and shut his eyes, his shoulders relaxing. In a swift movement, he brought your form flush into his, engulfing you in his embrace, a hand coming up to press your head into him, scratching at your scalp a little.

“I risked a lot to get you here I-” he let out a shaky breath. “You need to work with me to keep our peace. Seoul isn’t safe right now, it won’t be for a while, for you anyway. I know it’s a huge contrast, but…we can figure it out when you’re feeling better, okay?”

So he got it all, the job, the girl, the looks. You…weren’t mad, nodding into him.

He used his hand to angle your face to look into his.

He kissed you then, it was new. Unsure and a little innocent, unfitting for who either of you were. You smiled against his lips, pulling away to look at him once more. His arm found your waist, the other coming up to interlace with yours. You swayed gently to no music, moving in tandem to the sound of nothing. It was mostly him, though, being a surprisingly great dancer. He hummed a soft song you were unfamiliar with, eyes boring into yours somberly .

I won’t say I’m in love.

[gaypirate420]

Relapse // Jasper W. Hale.

Jasper Whitlock-Hale x gn!reader.

Summary: Jasper has a little slip.

Angst. Graphic Violence. Jasper icon by @jasperhaleobsessed

It was late, dark.

Jasper walked mindlessly through the forest, he doesn't feel that well, he needs fresh air and be alone from all the emotions from his family and his own.

The vampire came to a stop.. He could hear it. Two voices he could make out near the freeway.

"Get out of my car!" The female voice shouted, Jasper got closer, still hidden in the trees. He could make out a man stepping out of a car. Both of the humans look angry.

"It was just a kiss, don't be such a bitch!" He shouted back. The girl just threw his phone into the pitch black forest. Jasper just saw it fly off, passing right by his side before landing between bushes.

The human male groaned before the girl took off with full velocity.

Jasper stood there, he doesn't really interact with humans, especially not in the middle of the night. So he just stood there, silent, almost like a ghost. Waiting for the human to go away so he can keep walking.

The man walks to the trees, cursing under his breath as he tries to find his phone in the darkness.

Then.

"Oh fuck!" He hisses in pain as he trips and falls. A cut on the palm of his hand, the male groans in annoyance as the cut stings and bleeds.

Jasper froze. It was like he suddenly felt cold. Everything stopped for him and before he could process it-

He lounged himself at the human who screamed in horror, Jasper pinned him down in the ground with extreme force, the human feel like a truck just hit him with how strong and heavy Jasper felt on top of him.

Jasper stared at him. His golden eyes wide and his chest rising and falling. The blonde was shaking. He wanted to ask if the human was okay and say he was sorry for tackling him.

But the vampire could also feel the emotions from the human, they were hitting him like a whip. The anxiety. The confusion.

The fear.

A growl.

A hiss.

Long and sharp fangs bury deep in the neck of the human like the sharpest of knives digging into his skin.

Jasper could quiet it down, making it feel like a small pinch at the neck without any fear, without any sort of emotion.

But it's been so long. So long since he felt it. The rush, the adrenaline, the thrill of it all.

The taste.

God, The Taste. Jasper holds the human tightly as the warm red liquid touches his lips, his tongue savoring the sweet nectar, down his throat like the most comforting food a child could have after eating something icky.

Jasper gulps, gulps and gulps. He drowns on the sweet liquid. The thing he's craved so much for so long.

The holy grain.

The forbidden fruit.

The vampire moans in extreme pleasure as the screams quiet down and the desperate attempts for escape lose force. So much force in the vampire's hold he hears the ribs breaking.

A heart that stops beating as Jasper feasts.

You could hear steps in your room, waking you from your slumber, it wasn't like you went to sleep hours ago.

"Jazz?" You called his name, who else would be walking in your room. You opened your eyes and there he is, standing near the window he came from. You could only make his golden locks in your sleepy state.

"I mean— a text would have been great, cowboy." You teased as you walked towards the light switch.

You smiled and turned on the light.

"Oh my god!" You screamed in horror as you saw Jasper. Standing still, mouth dripping with blood. His hands shaking, the pale skin tinted red.

Your scream makes him flinch, his now crimson eyes look directly at you. He tries to talk but what comes out of him is a deep animalistic growl.

You take a step back, you take a shaky breath as you look around. You're trapped, all alone in your home.

Like a child who falls into the lion's cage.

Jasper finally moves, into your direction.

You take a couple of steps back until you meet a wall. The vampire approaches you with heavy breathing. The blood is still dripping from his mouth like a drooling animal who's staking their next prey.

The loving gaze of those golden eyes is gone. Instead, predatory and piercing red eyes are slowly approaching you. You're shaking. You pray. You pray that Jasper, your Jasper, your boyfriend who swore to never hurt you, comes to his senses.

"Jasper." You called with a trembling voice. The vampire ignores your call, your plea. He just keeps stalking closer, like he's about to lounge at you.

Your hand found the handle of the door and you ran out of the room. Unknowingly to you that only triggered Jasper's hunting instincts.

You ran downstairs before you felt something heavy tackling you down.

"NO! JASPER! PLEASE!" You shouted with all your might as the vampire held you against the floor, pinning your arms up.

The cold and sticky blood from his mouth falling into your face. You cried with horror and disgust.

You just want to wake up, this has to be a nightmare. Your body shakes as you gasp for air, the tears start to pool and fall as you stare at Jasper, who seems completely unfazed by your tears.

Jasper's lips found their way against your neck, you could feel him sniffing you. He always did that, but now it feels disgusting and terrifying.

He drowned in your scent, in the feeling of your soft skin. The vampire was trembling as much as you were, you could feel him fighting with himself. To prevent himself from sinking his fans into you.

A low growl rumbles through his chest, his breath hitting against your neck.

The blonde was dizzy, lightheaded and could barely make out his surroundings but he knew you, your scent, your cries for him to stop.

He just couldn't stop.

"Jasper, my love, please." You whimper again between a sob, he releases your arms and holds you by the waist instead.

He hisses, the sound making your skin crawl and an audible cry leaves your throat.

And then he collapses, falling on top of you, you get short of breath for a second as his weight falls into you.

You stared at the ceiling. Taking deep breaths as your hands shake, you close your eyes, you feel the coldness of Jasper's supernatural body against yours.

"...I'm sorry..." Jasper can barely choke out the words. You let out a sigh of relief, he's back to himself.

"Darlin'- I'm sorry." He repeats over and over again, you take deeper breaths, trying to calm yourself down before your eyes meet his.

Oh.

His now bright red eyes are glazed over and he looks so confused. Your hand cups his cheek and he fully leans onto you, he's shaking terribly and looks traumatized.

You didn't know what to do, to say that 'it's okay' would be lying to him.

"I'm sorry..." The vampire mumbles like a broken record. You sigh and hold him close to your body, he leans in like a hurt animal, wanting to hide from the word.

"I'm sorry... darlin'... please." He whimpers against you, getting a little frustrated at your lack of response, you'll always say something, reassure him.

But you can't speak. You're frozen.

"I don't know that to say." You whispered. He shrinks at the hoarsely sound of your voice, horse from screaming so much.

You've never seen him so vulnerable. Scared even, the vampire is usually so calm and collected, in his worst days he's just silent, but he's shaking now, he's breathing heavily, his eyes are wide and afraid.

You stayed there for minutes. Perhaps hours. You could only make out Jasper's shaking form and the ticking of the clock in your living room.

You looked down, Jasper now seems empty. Unmoving like a statue.

Like a corpse.

The vampire's thoughts were a mess. He just felt you pull away, he didn't move. If you wanted to be away from him he couldn't blame you. He scared you. He's a monster. He doesn't deserve to be comforted after what he did.

"Jasper." You called, pulling him away from his thoughts, his eyes looking up into yours, you took his hands in yours.

"Let's get you cleaned." You speak softly, you truly don't know what to do. But your first instinct is to make sure he's alright.

The vampire stares blankly at you before nodding.

"Yes, he's right here." You speak through the phone as you stand by your window, the morning sun rising, a very worried Carlisle talking to you on the other side of the line. Your eyes fall on Jasper who's laying on your bed after a shower and a change of clothes.

He is completely immobile. He tried to run away from your house after he came into his senses fully. He wanted to hide from you, to leave you so he couldn't hurt you.

But your soft eyes won.

"No, I don't think he's okay. He...he's gone mute." You whisper but you know Jasper can hear you either way.

"Yes. I'll keep him here. I'll be okay, don't worry." You try to sound confident and reassuring but you're still a little scared that Jasper tries to make a run for it again. You end the call and walk towards Jasper. He stares at you, bright red eyes staring up.

You lean down and run your fingers through his hair, he closes his eyes and leans into your touch.

"Oh, cowboy..." You whispered. There's not a lot you can say, your fingers disappearing into the golden curls on his head. And he can't say anything either. He feels unable to, tired, exhausted, disappointed on himself.

Fifty years of progress. Just gone.

You laid down on the bed, coaxing him to hold you, he buries his face on your chest, listening to the soft beating of your heart.

It's comforting, he can't even think of yesterday where he found it enticing. When he wanted to rip you apart and consume you.

His thoughts are interrupted by a soft hummed tone.

"Thank you...for staying." Jasper whispers before the room falls into silence again.

A/N: hey Twilightrinas I'm back. I hope y'all like this, very heavy fic for my return I know, but I had this on the drafts for a lonnnnggg time. So thanks to everyone that waited. (Divider 1) (Divider 2)

[oddsconvert]

Izaak core.

[toothfa-1-ry]

YOU STILL LIKE IT THOUGH

GENRE: Fluff, crack fic ish?

PAIRING: Choi su-bong/thanos x preg!fem!reader

FEAT: Nam gyu as the supportive bestie (that he never rlly was)

A/N: this fic i based of a request from anon !! Tbh i changed ALOT of the request (haha- sorry 😞) because I felt like it was a little repetitive and idk i just can't write rlly emotional scenes with Thanos for some reason (??) ALSO I feel like there are parts where Thanos seems ooc? Idk.. i wrote this instead of studying in the span of 30 mins

"Whoo!" You hear Thanos shout on the top of his voice while he high fives nam gyu as they both jump up and down as if they were children in elementary school after winning a play ground game

You manage your groan, suppressing it while you stare at them from afar, of course that crazy fucker managed to pass through the first game.

You hated to admit it, but a part of you was relieved,

You always had a thing for psycho guys, and your ex boyfriend? The one with the brightly dyed hair who was now doing some weird dance seemed to proudly embody every part of that sentiment.

You carefully watch from afar, not wanting to catch his eyes, your hand unknowingly lay over your stomach while you move uncomfortably in the bunk bed

Fuck, your feeling dizzy all over again

You hear a thud against your bed post, you look up slowly, your eyes slightly squinting to see the purple haired boy with a usual frown on his face

"Hey" his eyebrows raise "are you okay"

"I thought I told you to get lost earlier"

Your mood swings weren't really helping either

"Geez woman" thanos tchs but sits beside you in your bed anyways "im just trying to help" grumbling under his breath but the cautious expression in his face saied otherwise

"I came here to brag about how amazing i usually am but seeing you like this is just killing the vibe yknow"

he makes a hand gesture in the air, leaning face closer in an attempt to make you smile which does not go wasted as the smile you tried to supress escaped your face

"Fuck off you loser" your still kneeling, your hands over your knees and your face hiding behind your knees but he hears the smile in your voice anyways.

He wouldn't want to admit it, but he was relieved

He always had a thing for girls with pretty voices and you? The girl right next to him had to have one of the prettiest voices he had ever heard. Ofcourse who would better know than a rapper like himself?

"I thought I told you to stick close to me, instead you leech to that crazy old man" thanos says as he points towards gi hun who sat far away in the opposite side

You immediately slap his hand, causing him to wince while retracing it back, rubbing it softly

"How many times will I tell you! You shouldn't point your hands at strangers especially to people who are older" you scold him rather loudly causing him to wince even more

"Agh" thanos ruffles his neon hair while complaining "why don't you shout louder so that everyone will hear and laugh at me?"

You resist the urge to roll your eyes upon his childish manners, he really didn't change

Thanos suddenly bangs the top of the bunk with a loud sound, taking you by shock

"Oi" his voice loud and almost threatening "nam gyu" calling out the man above the bed

Immediately your taken by shock once more when a man's head pops upside down, with black oily hair falling all over his face from above the bed

"Yes Thanos?" Nam gyu quickly inquired while sparing you a quick glance which didn't go unnoticed by the scowling man next to you

"Did you hear her telling me off?" He points at nam gyu before quickly adding "careful, there's only one correct answer"

Nam gyu pauses and thinks which seems to be the wrong thing to do as it just annoys Thanos

"Whats wrong with you, tell me quickly!"

"N-no! Not at all! Infact nobody heard anything!" Nam gyu quickly says, obviously lying but this seemed to please Thanos who now held a haughty face

Wow, this is was supposedly the father of your unborn child. Shame you and your taste in weird guys

Before Thanos could open his mouth to say something, a group of pink guards enter the room with large containers

Straight away you freeze up, shrinking behind the bed while your heart hammered, fear spread across your face

Noticing your expression on your face, instinctively Thanos covers you with his back, shielding you with his arms which covered your sides while his expression, though you could not see was filled with wariness

The pink guards open the large containers they were carrying as everyone watched quietly, scared as they were unsure of what to expect, you included

The pink guard with the white circle lifts up a piece of bread and milk "lunch time" announcing in the same robotic voice like all the other guards

A sigh of relief escapes your mouth as your shoulders relax, unlike you Thanos still shields you, covering your face with his back

You hit him with a thud on the back of his head

"What the hell man" thanos turns around, his eyes glaring at you

"Stop trying to act like a hero you shameless prick" you frown even though his actions did leave you with a warm feeling in your heart

"Your acting so protective after all the stunt you pulled before we broke up" you continue "seeing you act all so protective is just pissing me off even more"

Thanos throws his head back, groaning "give me a break woman. You know I was going through a hard time"

"Bullshit" your fold your arms, as if it was act to protect yourself, and the unborn baby in your stomach.

The poor thing was only 2 months old

The both of you hear nam gyu cough from above the bed, forgetting that he was there in the first place

Again Thanos bangs the top of the bunk, causing you to give him a look

"Stop doing that" you scold him

"doing what?" Thanos raises his eyebrow before banging the top of the bunk again while sticking his tongue at you

Nam gyu pops back down again, upside down, the sight would have been hilarious only if you weren't experiencing the pain in your stomach and the sight of the man sitting beside you

"Go get lunch for me and my girl" thanos tilts his head towards you while avoiding your eyecontact while you tell yourself not to think about the fact that he still referred to you as 'his girl'

"go fast what are you still doing here" thanks reprimanded nam gyu

Nam gyu awkwardly stood unsure of what to say "but it's just one bread and one milk per person"

"Then give her yours" thanos said simply "and go steal someone's lunch for me"

"Then what about for me?" Nam gyu asked dumbfounded which caused Thanos to pause and think for a while

"That's not my fucking problem man- now go" he pushes him away, leaving you with a heavy sigh

"I don't want to eat"

"Don't talk bullshit" thanos eyes you "you think i'm gonna let you starve? I never did, and i wont be starting now"

Again with the whole protective boyfriend act, fuck, why did it make your heart race a little?

"Your still such an asshole, you didnt change a bit" you huffed as you leaned behind, resting your back against the wall

"Well you changed" thanos says which quirks your curiosity

"How so?'

"I don't know" he shrugs "something is different. Something happened, i can't exactly ppint my fi ger at it though"

Your eyes dart away from his while your breathing started to fasten slightly

"Oh yea? How so?" You ask, your voice slightly higher than it was which Thanos picks up immediately

"Ohoho" he grins "did I get it right? Did you get something done?" He glances you up and down which leads you to hitting him

"Ow- i was just joking, you still take everything so seriously" he grumbled holding your hand from hitting him "I wish that part had changed'

Your other hand comes swinging which he again grabs softly

"jokingg" he says in a sing song voice before letting both your arms go leaving you with a scowl and him with a satisfied smirk in his face

"Asshole" you mutter which stretches his smirk even more

"You still like it though"

You almost swear you heard a hint of vulnerability in his tone, prompting you to glance at him quickly just to catch him already looking at you

"So? Aren't you gonna ask me what has changed?" You ask slowly, in your head trying to process whether your doing the right thing or not,

You first found out you were pregnant with your baby right after you and Thanos broke up.

The following days, whenever you went to pay him a visit, he was always missing, causing you to believe maybe it was better for him not to know. And then you suddenly meet him for the first time after your breakup during the squid games

The timing was almost comical

"Why?" Thanos continued still with an amused face "you still seem the same on the inside"

Your hand immediately goes to your stomach, slowly tracing along it from above the green track jacket which everyone wore

"Don't tell me your sick or something" thanos asks with his voice slightly raised as he notices your action "fuck are you?"

His eyes slightly widens as he frowns "hey" he snaps his finger upon your zoning out "are you sick?"

"Hm?" You ask confused

"What the fuck" he swears under his breath with a anxious expression on his face while his hand runs through his finger "is that why your here? To win some money for your treatment?"

"Su Bong its not like that-" All your attempts of correcting him seemed to be futile as he sweared loudly, getting out of the bed

"Shit shit shit!" He grabs his head while he paced around the floor, a sight you had seen a few times over the span of your relationship

"ofcourse that's why your here, you would only be here for a sensible reason"

"Oh, su bong" you attempt to appeal to him, reaching your hand out, pulling his closer towards you while he hands were still over his head, eyes lowered

"Fuck baby I'm so sorry" he breathed out "shit i never should have left, i thought" he paused "I thought I'd win some money and get you back, give you the life you really deserve but"

You watch his dazed expression while he rambled, you bit you underlip, hesitant of whether to tell him the truth still

"Fuck, i didn't even know that, i didn't even know you were sick-"

Before he could continue again you grab his face , forcing him to look at your face

"I'm not sick, that's not why im here"

Thanos breathed heavily, everything felt so real suddenly, he felt his cross necklace strapped around his neck, his fingers itching to pop a pill in his mouth to sooth his nerves

"I'm not sick" you shake your head as you lean your forehead against his "su-bong"

You can still feel his strained breaths and darting eyes

"I'm pregnant"

And it all stopped,

You held your breath, afraid of what would happen if you let go, your could heart your heartbeat from your ears, feel the realisation setting inside thanos,

You were scared. Scared of how he would react

He breaks away first, slowly and gently. Staring at you with no expression in his face,

"And it's yours" you rapidly feel the need to add, taken back by his silence which didn't not suit him "and i know having a kid was never in your plan, and i know things are over between us but-"

Your body is wrapped by his arms and his face nestles in your neck, pulling your deeper in his embrace

"Holy shit" thanos whispers in your ear, you can hear the giddiness radiating off his voice "im a dad"

"Yea you are" you laugh a little as you say "your a dad"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I never got the chance to"

Thanos furrows his eyebrows but doesn't press any more "will you let me be our baby's dad?" He ask

"You know I grew up without a dad, this kid doesn't deserve that" he pokes your stomach with a soft grin which looked slightly odd against his eccentric features "I wanna be in this kids life"

You nodd softly, hearing his words

"And yours too" thanos looks up to you, grinning while he winked at you "senorita"

"You corny bastard" you laugh shaking your head

"You still like it though"

You nodd your head, with tenderness in your eyes and voice

"I do"

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ extra scene pack !!

"Thanos!" Nam gyu came running with 3 pieces of sweet bread and 3 packets of milk "I got it! Do you know how much trouble i went to get all these-"

"Give it here " thanos grabbed all the bread and milk away "why did you take so long anyways"

Nam gyu held his hands as he pouted "I mean- i had to fight like 2 guys for bread and milk for us-"

Thanos brushed him off as he opened all the packets of bread and poked in the straw of all the milk packets

"Uhm thanos" nam gyu apprehensively called out "What are you doing?"

Thanos hands you all the bread and urges you to eat while he holds the packets of milk in his hand, ready to feed you

Thanos gestures towards you who was sitting in the bed, now wrapped in not only your jacket but his aswell "can't you see the lady is pregnant"

Nam gyu scratched his head "pregnant? With who?"

Thanos shakes his head, exaggerating his actions "dumb ass, she's pregnant with my baby ofcourse" he announced like it was the most obvious thing in the world

"Holy shit!" Nam gyu gaped his hand covering his mouth as he stares at you while you sheepishly smile at him

Thanos let out a small laugh which then slowly grew louder

"What? Why are you surprised? Ofcourse i succeeded in my first try- fuck" he kneels down in pain after being striked by you in the stomach

Nam gyu pulls a face in behalf of Thanos as he pats his back sympathetically while he whispers to you

"Don't worry. I know it probably wasnt his first try or anything- ow" nam gyu kneels on the ground after being hit in the stomach by thanos

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

"What... what are you guys doing?" You question as you approach Thanos and nam gyu who were huddled up in a corner, in a long rather quiet conversation which seemed like an unusual activity for both of them to part take in

Both in the 'discussion' and 'quiet' part

Thanos loops his arm around your with a proud smirk on his face while urging nam gyu to announce what they were discussing

Nam gyu nodds eagerly as gets up in his two feet quickly, standing straight and tall with a loud and confident voice "we have decided the perfect name for the baby !!"

You see thanos's broad smile and nam gyu's confident voice, uneasiness settling in your stomach for whatever name they picked out

"These is the name that Thanos and i have personally given a lot of thought for and chosen after much contemplation !!"

Thanos nodded his head with a content expression while he winked at you, assuring that you'll like it

"Ahem" nam gyu clears his throat "before I announce the name that we have chosen, i would like to give recognition to the name we almost chose aswell !!"

Thanos immediately began clapping his hand loudly "waaah, I never knew you could speak so well "

This comment made nam gyu's chest fill swell with pride as he puffs out his chest a little

"I shall now, announce the first runners up, the name that almost was given to the new born baby"

nam gyu pauses which prompts Thanos to make the sound of drum rolls

"Nebula" nam gyu announces as he and thanos clap loudly.

Seeing your still figure both men urge you to claps aswell

"Nebula?" You mutter under your breath "where have i heard that name before?"

"And now, the name that has been selected over numerous selection test and discussion, the name of the baby is" nam gyu points at your stomach

"Gamora"

Thanos whoops loudly, both nam gyu and him clapping their hands in the air while you stand off handedly as it hits you

"Your naming our child after the daughter of the purple alien monster from a superhero movie?!"

[choerypetal]

Love at first sight. / Squid Games!Men

summary; a little prompt for each men in squid game x reader.

also my english isn't my first language so i do apologize for a few errors! enjoys x

including; in-ho, thanos, myung-gi, dae-ho & gi-hun

In-ho: 

Praise yourself for catching In-ho’s attention amidst the chaos of the games. Not only did he manage to maintain his composure, but he also came to terms with the truth—it wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him, but his heart betraying him. He had been ensnared in a dangerous blend of love and death. And no matter the cost, he was determined to ensure your survival, even if it meant faking your death and arranging for the guards to escort you to his shelter.

At first, his actions were subtle—a few fleeting glances, quiet assurances that you weren’t alone. He took it upon himself to ensure someone capable stood between you and danger. This resolve led him to seek out Gi-hun, cornering him with a whispered plea. “I’m not asking for much,” In-ho murmured, his voice low and firm. Gi-hun’s brows knit together as he glanced at you, understanding little of the request but sensing its weight. Though the urge to question why In-ho couldn’t protect you himself lingered, Gi-hun ultimately accepted—he, too, had his own plans to carry out.

Yet, watching Gi-hun hover near you ignited something unexpected in In-ho—a simmering, unanticipated jealousy. His blood boiled harder than he cared to admit.

It was Gi-hun’s proximity to you that set him on edge.

While 001 had extended a friendly hand, In-ho never anticipated him stealing you away entirely. The realization unsettled him, and during the chaos of the Carousel games, panic began to creep in. When he noticed you were nowhere to be found in the room, it nearly consumed him. The thought of losing you made his fists clench, and for a brief, irrational moment, he contemplated throwing a punch at Gi-hun. But it wasn’t until the final elimination, when the doors unlocked, that relief washed over him. There you were—your silhouette unmistakable behind Dae-ho.

In that instant, he didn’t hesitate. Rushing toward you, his breath hitched, words failing him. A shaky exhale escaped his lips, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming relief. He almost laughed—a scoff of incredulity—before pulling you close, his hand instinctively cradling the back of your head. Without a second thought, he leaned in, his lips pressing a firm but tender kiss to your forehead.

“Silly,” he muttered, his voice tight with emotion. “I never should’ve trusted Gi-hun to keep you safe. Damn it, I thought I’d lost you.” The panic in his voice caught you off guard, the weight of his words sinking in. You hadn’t expected such raw vulnerability from him—not now, not like this. A soft chuckle escaped you, an attempt to lighten the moment. “It’s okay,” you reassured him gently. “Dae-ho found me right away and made sure I was safe.”

That revelation gave In-ho pause, but he filed it away for later. For now, none of it mattered. You were alive and unharmed, and that was everything.

The kiss on your forehead wasn’t just a gesture of relief—it was a silent declaration. You were his, and no one—not Gi-hun, not Dae-ho, not anyone—would ever take you from him again.

Thanos: 

Once a retired rapper, Thanos now found himself thrust into a life-and-death struggle. Among his generation, it was no surprise that some idolized him—his presence commanding a respect so intense, it bordered on worship. To them, he was pristine, untouchable. But this adoration didn’t sit well with everyone, especially loners like you, who preferred to navigate the chaos without attachments.

Ironically, that aloofness was one of the many reasons Thanos found himself drawn to you.

In the early days on the island, Thanos made no effort to reveal his interest. If anything, he mirrored your indifference, matching your cold detachment with his own. But when you began spending time with Myung-gi, the dynamic shifted. Thanos hadn’t expected it, nor did he like it. Watching you bond with someone else left a bitter taste in his mouth, awakening a tension he couldn’t ignore. The loner mindset had been his strategy for survival—a simple equation: fewer people, fewer complications. But your presence complicated everything, especially when it came to your effortlessly beautiful face, which he found himself stealing glances at far too often.

It didn’t take long for his resolve to crack.

Thanos had made himself a promise: to keep his distance, to ignore you as you ignored him. But that promise shattered the moment Nam-Gyu let slip a confession Thanos had sworn him to secrecy about. That little fucker, Thanos thought bitterly, though his anger was tempered by necessity—he needed Nam-Gyu to survive. Yet, when the truth reached you, it unraveled him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

Instead of drawing you closer, the revelation pushed you further away. Your avoidance became more deliberate, more pronounced than ever before. It stung more than Thanos cared to admit. For the first time in a long time, he was unprepared—for your reaction, for the way it tightened a knot of frustration and longing deep inside him.

Which only added more tension between the two of you.

The final games loomed, a trial where survival would demand more than just cunning—it called for a kind of ruthless cleansing. Thanos knew, without hesitation, that when the moment came, he’d be the first to grab your hand and shield you. Even if it meant overreacting, even if it jeopardized his own chances, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. Certainly not to Myung-gi, if it came down to that.

“You know...” he murmured late that night, his voice low and almost hesitant. Your back was turned to him, your body stiff on the thin mattress. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, couldn’t even steal a glance. Not after everything. The weight of his breath lingered against the back of your neck, and you flinched slightly, betraying your nerves. His presence, so close and unyielding, was suffocating yet magnetic.

“Tomorrow is... big,” he continued, his words faltering as his gaze shifted across the dimly lit dormitory. For a moment, his eyes locked on Player 333, who sat sharpening a weapon in the corner—a stark reminder of the danger waiting ahead. Thanos clenched his jaw, then turned his focus back to you.

“If we’re not careful...” he trailed off, his voice softening, almost breaking. “Who knows if I’ll ever get to see your beautiful face again?”He exhaled sharply, frustrated with himself, as if admitting even that much was a risk. “I know it’s—” 

Your head snapped toward him, your brows furrowing into a glare sharp enough to cut through the tension between you. For a moment, silence hung in the air, charged and heavy. Then, your voice broke it, calm yet biting. “If you keep this up, you might be the one ending up with a bullet in the face,” you said, your tone so nonchalant it bordered on cute—a contrast that left Thanos momentarily stunned. He blinked, almost scoffing in disbelief, one hand pressing dramatically against his chest.

“Ouch,” he drawled, his lips curling into a grin. “I’m hurt, sweetheart.”

Your eyes narrowed into daggers. “Do. Not. Call me sweetheart.”

Before you could say more, Nam-Gyu chimed in from his corner, a mischievous smirk playing on his face. “I bet she’s in love,” he teased, his words practically dripping with mockery.

Thanos’s cocky grin widened at that, his eyes gleaming with a maddening mix of pride and amusement. The sheer arrogance in his expression made your fingers twitch, itching to slap that smug look right off his face. But instead, you gave him one final glare—a death wish in your eyes, though to Thanos, it looked like the beginning of a love story.

“I bet she is,” he echoed, his voice soft but certain, the words carrying a weight of truth that made your chest tighten. He didn’t try to stop you as you turned and walked away, but his gaze lingered, following every step you took. Oh, how you had him wrapped around your finger without even realizing it. A wimp for you, and you alone.

Myung-gi: 

Everyone knew who Player 333 was—you included. Unlike many in this room who were desperate to claw their way out of debt, you knew Myung-gi only by name. You’d heard the rumors: how he’d gotten his girlfriend pregnant, how his past was littered with mistakes and secrets. But something in you—a stubborn spark of hope, perhaps—whispered that he wasn’t as bad as everyone wanted him to be. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than the stories let on.

Myung-gi had noticed you, though. He’d seen the way you were with Jun-hee—the way your smile seemed to ease her fears, how your arms would wrap gently around her petite frame after every game, grounding her, giving her the space to breathe. The quiet strength and warmth you brought to her felt almost unreal, a motherly presence in a place devoid of comfort.

It was that tenderness, that undeniable light, that struck him like a blow to the chest.

Myung-gi was in love.

And he hated every single moment of it.

Why? Because he knew himself. He knew what he’d done to Jun-hee—how he’d left her while she was pregnant with his child, drowning in debt and fear. He’d been a coward, an asshole, and he knew it. That self-loathing festered, a constant reminder of his failures. And yet, it was exactly why he didn’t expect you to see him as anything other than the man he despised.

But fate had other plans.

Your first real interaction with him came after he saved you—something neither of you had anticipated.

It happened during the Bathroom games, where survival left no room for personal grudges. Confronting Thanos wasn’t at the forefront of Myung-gi’s mind, but then he heard it—your name, slipping from Thanos’s lips with such filth that it ignited a rage Myung-gi didn’t know he was capable of.

Everyone knew your past as an escort within the crypto community. Your name wasn’t hard to find, whispered in private conversations and occasionally tied to scandalous wallets. But Myung-gi knew better than to judge. Still, hearing Thanos—the retired rapper—speak of you like that, as though you were nothing more than a commodity, was the last straw.

“She was good for a foreigner. Not many—”

That was as far as Thanos got before Myung-gi’s fist collided with his jaw, cutting him off mid-sentence. The sickening crack of impact echoed through the grimy bathroom, followed by a faint splatter of blood. Myung-gi emerged from the stall alive but seething, his knuckles raw and his breath ragged. As he stepped out, his gaze immediately locked with yours. Jun-hee stood beside you, clinging to your arm for reassurance, but the look on your face was unreadable—a mix of surprise, understanding, and something softer.

A small, almost imperceptible smile crept across Myung-gi’s lips.

In that moment, he made a silent promise: no matter what it took, he’d make sure both of you got out of this alive.

Dae-ho: 

Dae-ho never believed in love at first sight. With everything he’d endured in his life—the trials, the sacrifices, the relentless pursuit of strength—he saw himself as a knight in shining armor, bound by duty but never destined for romance. That belief held firm until he met you.

It happened during the Carousel game. Like In-ho, he’d noticed you before—your stoic demeanor during Green Light, Red Light had left him quietly impressed. The way you moved, swift yet calculated, managing to evade the statue’s unrelenting gaze with precision, was nothing short of remarkable. It was then that something shifted in him. Against all reason, Dae-ho found himself believing in love at first sight.

At first, he thought he was imagining it. He even considered pinching himself, blinking twice to dispel the notion. But the feeling persisted, undeniable and maddening. It wasn’t until later, when you tended to his wounds after one of the brutal games, that he finally saw you up close—and the full weight of your beauty struck him like a blow. Your lashes fluttered delicately as you focused on your task, your fingers gentle but firm as you dabbed rubbing alcohol onto his injuries. He hissed at the sting, his lips parting in a soft groan of pain.

“Be still, please,” you murmured, your tone calm but commanding. Something about the way you said it—the quiet strength in your voice—silenced his protests. He nodded, his muscles relaxing under your care, though the tension in his chest was harder to soothe.

For the first time, Dae-ho felt vulnerable—not because of his wounds, but because of you.

“You know…” His voice was low, almost hesitant, but there was a softness to it that made you pause. You could’ve sworn his lips curved into the faintest smile. “I never would’ve thought I’d see you like this—healing me. Back at the Carousel, I swore to myself I’d keep you close, that we’d find the door as quickly as anyone else. But then… the next thing I knew, Thanos had taken you before I could…”

He trailed off, his words tinged with shame. The vulnerability in his voice made you glance up at him, your fingers stilling as you finished securing the bandage. His eyes widened at your sudden attention, and he immediately began to stammer.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

You interrupted him with a soft sigh, sliding the remaining bandage back into your pocket. “Don’t apologize. We just weren’t lucky, that’s all. I wanted to prove to myself that I could handle it—that I wasn’t just someone who had to count on others.” Your gaze softened as you added, almost reluctantly, “But… I have to admit, not having you there in that room—it was horrible.”

Your quiet confession was enough to undo him. Without a word, Dae-ho wrapped his arms around you, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his wounds. Still, he didn’t let go. His embrace was warm, protective, and when he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, it felt like a promise.

“Nevertheless,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet reassurance, “I’m just glad we made it through. That you’re here with me.” His lips quirked into a small grin as he added, with a teasing lilt, “And that I get to cuddle with you for another night.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words, the tension between you easing for a moment. For now, at least, you both had each other.

Gi-hun: 

Unlike the others, you weren’t a player. But you knew Gi-hun from the previous game he was in. He was so certain you had died right in front of his eyes back then that when he saw the mask ripped off your face—revealing you as one of the Guards—his shock was palpable. Another Guard had been taken hostage by the remaining candidates, and though you could have cursed every word that came to mind, you found yourself frozen, your voice stolen by the chaos.

In-ho was the first to recognize you. He knew you were on shift at this hour, but what he hadn’t expected was the look of sheer horror that crossed Gi-hun’s face when your name escaped his lips.

“Y/N...?” Gi-hun’s voice trembled, disbelief heavy in the air as though he was trying to confirm he wasn’t dreaming.

“You know them?” one of the players sneered, their stolen gun now aimed squarely at Gi-hun. Bodies of your co-workers—faces you barely had time to register—lay scattered across the floor, lifeless, just feet away. The metallic tang of blood filled the air.

But this time, Gi-hun wasn’t about to let anyone lay a finger on you. He remembered the vow you both had made:

"We belong to each other. And I will get you home."

With those words etched into his resolve, Gi-hun made his move. Chaos erupted as the gun exchanged hands, bullets flying. The air was filled with deafening roars of defiance and the sickening splatter of blood.

In the end, In-ho stood back, his heart cold and unyielding, as he watched Gi-hun fall. The final shot rang out, and his lifeless body crumpled to the ground. Blood speckled your cheek, and you stared in stunned silence at the empty shell of a man you had once loved.

From the shadows, a familiar voice cut through the carnage, low and mocking.

“Welcome back home, love.”

You turned toward the source, and there he was Gi-hun—his gruesome smile sending chills down your spine.

[hxltic]

Bakugou, whose stamina is unbeatable. Who has just finished fucking you in any place necessary of the bedroom—the bed, the mini-couch, the floor—and still can’t keep his hands off you.

After laying on the bed for rejuvenating moments (at least for him), his large hand slides up your shoulder with a few coaxing kisses.

“Shower,” is all he says, his gruff voice strained and warm breath perceptible against your neck. You just nod weakly and attempt to ignore the mess between your legs.

In fact, he has to carry you to the bathroom. When you’re both in the shower, he still acts as support: your back is to his chest so he bears most of your weight, and his fingers span your lower stomach while you attempt to wash yourself.

You can barely keep your eyes open, so relaxed by the water, but he can see all of you just by where his chin rests on your shoulder. The water and soap sliding past the peaks of your breasts, the souvenirs that you not-so-sternly asked him not to leave on your skin.

Where you rest in front of him, he can’t help but feel aroused all over again, especially rubbing his hands over your supple skin that he couldn’t appreciate the first few rounds, clouded by the roughness you love.

Unable to just watch, he gently spins you around. Your eyes are half-closed, so you pay it no mind. You just continue your slow, leisure washing, completely unaware of the fact that he’s completely hard again, even if you wouldn’t be surprised.

Your eyes open back to reality when he gently takes the loofah from you and hangs it up on the little hook. His muscles casually ripple when he does literally anything, and if you weren’t so attracted to it, you’d be jealous.

“C’mere,” he orders, his voice in that soft tone reserved for you. His hands follow, crossing at your lower back and pulling you toward him even more. The atmosphere is hot and slow with the exhaustion settled into both of you.

You do something of a hum in question, but don’t resist when he leans down and slowly captures your lips in his. Your longing for each other is evident simply in the sigh that follows when you connect.

There’s water dripping everywhere, mostly on you, but the kiss is everything Bakugou usually isn’t: patient, slow, and needy. Actually, no. He was always pretty needy.

“Kat,” you whisper, and he groans in response, stretching his hands up your wet skin until he crosses your ribs, his thumbs move past the side of your breasts, and your arms are naturally guided to his neck.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were asking, to be honest, but you didn’t care. Not when you could feel the length of him pressed against your stomach.

Bakugou moves a few strands of drenched hair back behind your ear, and then strokes the rest at your nape to keep your head up to him. It was admirable, really, how he could be literally twitching in arousal, and still move like it doesn’t bother him at all.

Although, he is getting closer at hinting to it, because somewhere in the heat, your right leg is being lifted to his hip. When you find an escape from his kiss (he doesn’t allow you many), you glance down to what he’s doing.

He interprets your brows slightly furrowing and the low, tired droop of your eyes, already knowing what you’re going to say.

Voice still soft and practically gone even in distress, you begin, “I can’t go another round. There’s no way I’ll—”

“Shh,” he places a kiss on your forehead, then another at your temple. His head dips to lick and kiss in the crook of your neck, and your fingers either run through his wet, blonde hair or span the muscles of his back. He’s completely gone.

The left hand that upholds your leg starts to massage your thigh and inch up to your ass. “I talk to this pretty pussy almost every night, and you don’t think I know what you can handle?”

A whimper leaves your mouth and your hold tightens around him. Despite your lower body being completely stretched and at ease, he can still feel the tension elsewhere.

He continues, his voice dripping with reassurance, “Slide it in yourself. Then you tell me how it feels.”

And after a few moments and a sigh, you carefully reach down and wrap your fingers around him the best you can. You can feel him react to the movement alone, and with a prayer, you guide his head right to your entrance so you can sink when you’re ready.

When you descend, an immediate whine feels the air. He still fit perfectly from earlier and the sensitivity had tripled.

“Fuck,” you curse, wrapping yourself around him again. He holds you close.

“Feel good?”

You nod, and he throbs inside at the same time. He kisses you again, making sure to uphold you through your fatigue. Helping those in need was his job after all.

His right hand that covers your lower back loosens so that your weight inches backwards, then it pulls you right back in until you’re pressed against each other.

He groans with pleasure. The vibrations move to your lips that kiss him like he’s the last man on Earth.

And then he does it again, and again, until your head is simply resting on your own shoulder with your arms encircling his neck, water rushing down your hair and back. Your eyes are completely closed as he cradles you, erotic whines, whimpers, and moans falling from your lips into his ear.

Your slick walls drag up and down his skin. He moves so easily in and out that he can feel the outline of where his head usually reaches—the little space left. He was nowhere near as deep right now, but he is sure with the slight bend of his knees, he could have you screaming how you were for the hours before this.

And funnily enough, he doesn’t want you screaming at the moment. It’s something previous Bakugou would never say; not rock hard and needing to be balls deep in you quick Bakugou, at least.

You were worn out and tired, your body unable to take his usual pace. He’s almost 90% sure if he lifted you off the ground, you’d comply and hold on tighter, but he’s not going to push you that far. Not when he’s content like this, caressing your beautiful, dripping figure as you cry his name.

“Mmghn, that feels s-so good.” You speak, just above a whisper. And somehow, he can still hear you over the water and small splash of you both meeting in the middle. It’s like his brain is wired. No matter what, he’ll always be able to hear you.

He nods and kisses the side of your head again, keeping stable and consistently moving with minimal effort. The underside of your right knee is now resting in his elbow, so his hand can hold your waist and pull most of your weight that way instead of trying to push your whole body with just your thigh. At some point, you began helping him out.

“Keep moving your hips just like that, I got you.”

You groan at the instruction, and he chuckles heartily. Love poured from him and into you, making you feel more safe and secure than ever.

It didn’t take long until warmth gathered in your core with your clit dragging back and forth along his cock. He occasionally grunts and has to fix position to keep himself from spilling inside, not before you do first.

He can’t explain the relief he has when you insist that you’re gonna come soon in the form of a warning. It builds with each “thrust” and being so close to him as he carries you to climax.

“I’mna come,” you say again, more rushed this time, but muffled by his shoulder.

“I can feel it.” He responds, keeping pace. “Do you know what it feels like having you pulsing around me? Knowing you’re going straight into your sleep after?”

You shake your head.

“Hell, baby. Hell.”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way: the only option you have on sleepless nights being him. When you tap his shoulder or rub yourself against him, knowing he’ll never say no. Hope could he? He takes great pride in being your melatonin.

And, without fail, you fall into a perfect deep sleep, his cum still dripping into or out of you. It’s never there in the morning, and he loves that the only way it will happen is if he wears you out.

“Kattt…” You toss your head back, a low rumble in your throat that you only make when you’re on the verge of completely losing it. He attacks your neck again, letting your body naturally bounce off him and come back.

“Let yourself feel it. Let me take you there,” he encourages gruffly, nipping at your ear.

“Agh, fuck,” you nearly sob, digging yourself further into him somehow.

His eyes shut, a wave of clarity rushing over him. It’s you, his woman, his everything, needing him. He thought he knew what he wanted early in life. He knew he wanted to be desired by others in multiple ways, the best at everything. God, how wrong he was.

Now he wants to be the best at everything for you. Because you deserve nothing less. He doesn’t want to be desired by anyone else but you, because you carry all the validation he could possibly gain dopamine from. Nothing compares to you being completely and utterly dependent on him, clinging to him for dear life.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he spouts, not bothering to stop or care about being sappy. He loves to hear you whine in response, only to finally come up with a few words. Clearly you got the cheesy feeling too.

“L-Love you, Kats.”

He bushels the hair at the bottom of your head with a grunt, tilting your nose up to him. He lets his lips kiss you passionately first, then he pulls away, but obviously not too far since you’re still nose to nose. Your eyebrows are upturned in that sensual expression he loves.

His deep, crimson eyes flicker to your puffy lips, a sign of the night, and land on your pretty damp eyelashes. He was breathless and stern.

“Don’t look away. Keep your eyes on me, or I’ll stop.”

You blink, registering his words with the shake of your head. “Don’t stop,” you plead.

He calls your name, and it’s enough to know he’s being dead serious. Both his grips tighten, mainly the one in your hair, and you don’t know if it’s water dripping down your cheeks or a tear or two.

You can feel your bottom leg beginning to shake, and the heat get to your head.

You shut your eyes instinctively, “K—”

“I’ve got you, don’t even think about it. Look at me.”

Your eyes shoot open in remembrance of his words as he leaves and reenters you again with increased speed, the sound when you slap together even louder. He holds your head in place. “I love you more, baby. More than you can ever dream.”

You watch his eyes and they say everything you can’t, everything he can’t, and that alone is enough to send you over the edge.

Your jaw drops and you literally begin shaking, not caring that all the strength you had left went into your orgasm. Your head pounds with the stream of the shower and fatigue, and your hands begin to slip at his neck, but you don’t even care. You know he’s got you. He said it himself.

“Shit,” he hisses, your orgasm expected, but the power of it not. He almost missed the fact that you were gushing around him by mistaking it as the water, the countless times you’d done this before catching up to you. He keeps thrusting his hips forward and whispering you praises. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

You are sobbing now, real tears as he stills and twitches inside. He holds the promise he made to you since you did the same. He keeps his eyes focused on you, even as white spurts paint your insides, and puts his swollen lips on yours. Through your gasps, you couldn’t kiss him back, so he bites your bottom one instead.

It isn’t until you lose your footing and go limp against him that he bends to pick you up and lower your leg gently. You’re still jerking slightly, your muscles overworked, and the last of his release lands somewhere on your thighs as your back is arched away from him.

Before you can say anything or even think about it, he holds you upright and bends down to kiss you with all he has left, now that you’re somewhat here. When it’s over, you fall against him completely.

The rest is a blur, and the next time you know what’s happening, you’re tangled together in the unused guest bedroom.

©️ hxltic

[sttoru]

⺡ synopsis. after wandering into forbidden territory - the training grounds of the estate where sukuna’s soldiers reside - an unexpected romantic confession catches you off guard. little did you know that another concubine would snitch on you in hopes of getting you kicked out of the harem or worse, killed.

𖠵 tags. true form!ryomen sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst mostly [w/ comfort, if you can call it that], fluff-ish., suggestive. make-out session near the end. size difference [reader's body referred to as small]. mentions of murder, execution. wc: 4.2k

sukuna has known from the start that possessing a human army would cause trouble, one way or another. technically, the overpowered curse has no need for a group of soldiers. he can take up any opponent by himself.

however, he enjoyed knowing that he has full control over some weak humans who are too scared to oppose him. humans who would die for his cause, if he were to command them.

human shields: that’s what he calls them.

“speak up or leave,” the king of curses commands, piercing red eyes glaring down at the woman kneeling before him. he sits on his throne, the aura emitting from his body being one that would send anyone into sheer panic.

he’s already pissed off due to being disturbed by one of his concubines. It isn’t you – his favorite – so he has little patience to spare for the girl at his feet.

the blond girl speaks up after taking a deep breath. she came here determined to go through with her sick plan, hoping sukuna would hear her out. she knows of his favoritism—everyone around the estate did and nearly every other concubine has been thinking of the same.

to get rid of the blatant favoritism once and for all.

the nervous woman talks fast, stuttering after every word. she spills every detail about the predicament that you had found yourself in a couple moments ago.

. . .

you were walking around the training grounds out of pure curiosity. usually, no one would be there around that hour, yet today seemed to be an exception. you averted your eyes the second you saw the soldiers training in only their hakama. their muscular chests and backs were out in the open, straight up eye candy for anyone who was walking past.

however, when they saw you - sukuna’s infamous concubine who they’ve secretly developed a crush on – they froze in their place and nearly dropped their weapons. the men didn’t expect any visitors, especially not a high-ranking concubine to randomly walk through this part of the estate. it’s a rare occurrence to have anyone but the servants and generals walk by.

you silently bowed at them out of respect. you didn’t have to due to your high rank, yet you still did. you actually respect their position as soldiers. that humble nature of yours was exactly what separated you from the other concubines. it also played a huge role in the crushes that those soldiers have on you.

out of fear for their lives, the soldiers have never directly interacted with you. they heard of what happened to one of the male servants who tried asking you to accompany him for a cup of tea. his body was reduced to nothing but a puddle of dark, red blood which took the servants hours to fully clean up.

but now that you were alone, without sukuna in sight, the soldiers were braver. one of them grabbed the opportunity and started walking towards you as you stood on the engawa, simply admiring the koi pond nearby. the group of men watched from a distance as their friend attempted to make a move on you. it was the perfect opportunity to convey his feelings for you.

or so he thought.

sukuna’s eyes are everywhere. even if you think he isn’t looking, he simply is. his informants are lurking from every corner. his concubines, chefs, servants, maids and guards. all of them are his eyes and ears. you’re never fully alone. nothing you do escapes the king of curses. if you’re not being watched by him, the people under his control are lurking instead.

in that instant, it was one of his concubines who had discreetly followed you.

you had noticed it a while ago, though didn’t say a word. it’s a usual occurrence. the other women always try to catch you off guard. to catch you doing something that you’re not allowed to do, so they can report it to sukuna, hoping that it would get you expelled from his harem. perhaps even executed in front of their eyes.

although every time they report something ‘controversial’ about you to sukuna, it backfires, and they end up with their head on the guillotine.

despite the many failures, they simply cannot stop trying. one day it will work.

the blonde woman had witnessed how the soldier put his hand on your arm to stop you from walking away. the cheesy smiles he had given you betrayed his true feelings—the words he uttered after the formalities only further confirmed the concubine’s speculations.

“i’ve been admiring you for a while now. you’re a lovely lady...”

“perhaps it’s bold of me to ask this, but i would like the opportunity to get to know you better.”

“lord sukuna does not need to know of this. i promise not to tell him, so please don’t worry.”

. . .

“...that’s exactly what that soldier told her, my lord,” the concubine concludes her story with a shaky breath. the throne room is filled with a tense and rather uncomfortable silence. the woman can’t even lift her head up because of how scared she is of sukuna’s wrath. she’s scared of the fact that she could be the first one he kills in a rampage fueled by pure envy.

the curse simply stares at the top of the blonde’s head. his expression is unreadable, but the veins in his neck and on his forehead slowly yet surely start to become visible. his blood is boiling, causing his jaw to clench and his hands to ball into fists. without a word, sukuna stands up from his throne. the air in the room turns suffocating—the concubine could barely breathe. it’s as if there’s an invisible weight pressing on her chest, making her struggle to get any oxygen in her lungs.

a rough hand reaches out to grab ahold of her hair. sukuna’s fingers curl around the locks and roughly yanks the girl’s head back, forcing her to look up. his face is close to hers; his eyes are wide and glowing an intimidating red.

“woman,” his voice has a dangerous tone to it as he speaks up. he grips her hair tighter, until she lets out a pained sob as a few of her blond strands float down onto the cold floor, “you know what happens if you lie to me, correct?”

the blond concubine swallows thickly as the tears prickle her eyes. she nods, already aware of the risks she is taking. “yes, my lord. i… i promise it is not a lie,” she whimpers. perhaps her promise isn’t worth trusting, considering the infinite number of times that sukuna’s concubines have tried to sabotage his favorite girl, but the least she can do is try and convince him. to get one step closer to her goal.

the king of curses releases her head with a rough push that sends her onto her hands and knees. his intense gaze is focused on the big, heavy doors that lead down the many corridors of the estate. sukuna grits his teeth to the point he can nearly feel them crack— how dare a lowlife try to make a move on you, in his territory? his home?

a lowly human he has granted the privilege to even breathe the same air as him, nonetheless.

death shall await that piece of shit. everyone who has seen the situation play out and hasn’t done a thing to stop it or report it, will surely meet their demise as well. heavy footsteps and the deafening sounds of doors slamming open alert every living being around the estate. the air turns tense as they scramble to hide and stay out of sight of the one who’s currently making his way to the training grounds.

. . .

you’re sitting at a pavilion near the area you had visited roughly an hour ago. your eyes take in the beautiful surroundings: the sakura trees, the neatly cut bushes and the hint of the distant mountains that peek above the walls enclosing the estate. being here puts your mind at ease, even amongst all the chaos that you have withstood within those same walls.

you think back to the man who had spoken to you a couple moments ago. the way he spoke so bravely to you, knowing it could mean death if anyone were to report it to sukuna. it sure made you respect his courage. even if you did reject his offer—out of pure fear for his life and your own.

besides, you have developed a strange longing for the ruthless curse over the course of your stay. sukuna might still lack in some aspects, but something about him is attracting you and you cannot resist it. that connection between the two of you is something undeniable. something that will not die out any time soon.

you get up to go to your chambers. you’ve been here for too long while you’re not quite supposed to be roaming these places on your own. you lift your kimono a little, walking down the three steps and onto the gravel path. while you’re walking back, a couple noises from inside of the main building catch your attention.

sounds of struggle. you’ve heard those sounds enough times before to be able to recognize them with ease. you watch as guards step out into the engawa, down onto the pebbles that stretch over the entire yard. they’re pulling along a couple of blindfolded and tied up men. it looks exactly like what it is: an execution.

your throat dries up as you freeze in place. you’re not supposed to witness any of this. you’ve known of the executions that take place around the manor but have never seen them firsthand. you carefully hide your face, so the guards don’t recognize you and alert sukuna that you’re wandering around this part of his territory.

your eyes are downcast as you try to make a run for it from the sidelines, attempting to sneak into the building. this is none of your business. you don’t want to see it. you truly cannot do anything to save those souls—your word is not final around here.

you don’t recognize who those poor men are, until you hear one of them plead for his life. you’re about to successfully sneak past the many guards, however your head whips to the side out of pure shock once you hear that familiar voice. that smooth and charming voice. your eyes scan the bodies of the group that’s about to be executed.

those clothes. the group is wearing the same pants that those soldiers had on. the haircuts, their voices… there is no doubt about it.

“what—” you’re about to speak up – revealing your identity in hopes of getting answers and perhaps delay the execution with the little power you have - when you’re interrupted.

how could you not have noticed that imposing figure making its way towards you before eventually coming to a stop at your face?

you don’t know what to do or say. it’s like you have met a dead end. you can’t go back, nor can you move forward as a wall of muscles cage you into place. you don’t have time to react before sukuna’s fingers move up to wrap around your throat. he doesn’t hold on tight, at least not to the point that it hinders your airway. it’s a rather possessive gesture, a warning to not move or try anything funny.

“stay,” sukuna orders. you know you cannot defy him in any way, thus you do as told. you catch a glimpse of a silhouette behind the pink-haired man. A frown settles on your face the second you notice who it belongs to. that damned woman. . . she subtly shoots you a grin, one that makes your stomach churn and your blood boil.

you had been too reckless. you should have known that she would tell on you. if only you didn’t come around this area, none of this would have happened. those poor souls would not be lined up in a row in the yard, awaiting their inevitable end by the hands of the curse everyone fears. you feel like it’s all your fault and that nearly sends you spiraling.

“’lord sukuna doesn’t have to know,’ huh?” sukuna mocks with a dry laugh. a shiver runs down your spine once you realize what he is referring to. those courageous words that have been uttered to you today. you swallow thickly as you’re forced to lock eyes with the enraged curse in front of you.

he scoffs and turns your head to look at the blindfolded soldiers who are kneeling on the gravel, “how cute. which one of ‘em said that to you?”

you’re unable to immediately answer sukuna. there’s simply no way out of this. he will know the truth one way or another. the other concubine standing behind him will surely spill the beans if you lie. your punishment will be worse if you’re caught lying and the thought alone makes you panic internally.

“answer me,” the king of curses demands. his fingers tighten the grip around your neck, his face leaning in right in front of yours. it’s terrifying, really, even if you know sukuna wouldn’t physically hurt you in any way. at least not badly.

he emphasizes his demand with a subtle threat, “and don’t you dare lie.”

it’s futile lying to sukuna anyway. your eyes fill up with tears from the pure pressure you are experiencing. you look over the group of soldiers that are on their knees, waiting to be executed. just a few moments ago, they were laughing with each other while practicing their skills, not having a clue of what would happen. you grit your teeth. life is unfair.

you refuse to point at anyone, but your gaze does linger on one soldier on the far right. that instantly catches sukuna’s attention and he makes a mental note of it. he isn’t dumb: he is aware that you’re softhearted and selfless. you wouldn’t publicly expose anyone, because you’re afraid of what he will do to them if he were to find out.

“hm.” sukuna possesses enough information. he releases you with a slight push, all four of his eyes focused on that specific soldier. an ominous silence fills the air before you’re excused with a quick gesture of his hands. the king of curses wordlessly commands the guards to draw their swords; not a single life would be spared.

why? because the other soldiers are just as guilty. not reporting to sukuna about the behavior of their follow squad member is an act of treason by itself. besides, sukuna doesn’t really need those soldiers any longer. he can always assemble another group of weak men and put them on the front lines, to play the role of human shields.

his arms are crossed as he stares each of them down. he is about to tell the first guard to start the execution when he feels you tug at the sleeve of his yukata.

you gulp as you cling onto the fabric. you’re trying your best to change his mind. as his favorite, perhaps you had that power. to stop the blood hungry curse that lives for death and chaos. “pleqse don’t—" you open your mouth, only for one of his hands to grab you by your jaw.

“y’ don’t get to tell me what to do, brat,” sukuna answers in a low, dangerous voice. he taps your cheek twice to remind you of your place. he pushes you aside, causing you to stumble backwards into the building. be may be ruthless, but not to the point where he’d force you to witness the slaughter that’s about to take place.

“i’ll deal with ya later,” he adds with a faint huff. he quickly waves you off, “now, move.”

all you can do is stare at sukuna’s back before slowly retreating into the estate. you feel sick. you feel like you’re going to throw up as you scurry past the concubine who also makes her way back to her chambers, the woman still grinning from ear to ear.

heads will roll because of you. again.

. . .

the estate is unusually quiet around this hour. not a single soul had the guts to get out of their chambers after word spread that another execution took place. this time it was a group of soldiers, all of them taken out without a warning. they fear they’re next—not even your own lady-in-waiting dares to talk to you for the time being.

you’re laying on your bed, unable to sleep your worries away. the warmth underneath your sheets gives you a sense of comfort, but it isn’t enough to drive the negative thoughts away. you only lift your head up from the pillow when the doors to your room slide open. you heart nearly stops beating in your chest as you see sukuna stroll inside like nothing happened.

his footsteps are heavy against the wooden flooring. you sit up out of habit, to greet him. your eyes are downcast, however. you know a punishment awaits you as well. you don’t think he will expel you from his harem nor get rid of you in any way. he would have done so the moment he’s seen you back at the training grounds if that were to be the case.

sukuna sits on the edge of your bed, crossing all four of his arms. he sighs the second he sees the gloomy expression on your face. his hand reaches out, fingers pushing some of the hairs back from your face.

he doesn’t speak up for a minute, simply allowing you to gather your thoughts. his index finger and thumb glide down to grasp your chin— a gentle yet firm touch. “y’ see what happens when you disobey me?”

sukuna’s reminder sure was a violent one, but that’s to be expected from a disaster curse like him. of course he wouldn’t change his violent nature for you; you should’ve expected that. you shouldn’t have become so delusional, so blinded because of the fact that you’re his favorite.

perhaps the special treatment is getting to your head. it’s making you feel like you have a chance at taming a monster.

especially now, as sukuna climbs onto your bed and leans back against the headboard, pulling your small body onto his lap. the duality is messing with your brain and making you unable to fully despise the man in front of you.

“yes, my lord,” you take a deep breath before eventually answering with those three words. you’re a weak woman, melting right into the embrace of the man you’re supposed to hate. you cannot help yourself as you feel those big hands rub up and down your sides.

“good,” sukuna’s signature smirk tugs at his lips. you’re easy to distract, easy to please. looking at you from up close like this is somehow soothing the anger inside him. he’s supposed to punish you for disobeying his orders— for going somewhere you’re not supposed to. for interacting with a man who tried to approach you romantically.

yet he cannot bring himself to continue his rough lecture. seeing you become all putty in his hands puts his mind at ease. hurting you? kicking you out of his harem? killing you? no, none of that. all those evil thoughts are thrown out of the window the second your body made contact with his.

sukuna doesn't know whether to dislike or enjoy the undeniable power you have over him. if it was any of his other concubines in your position, he would've executed them right beside those soldiers. maybe it is a sick and twisted sense of love that he has for you.

even if love is a foreign thing to a cold-blooded curse like him.

“y’re lucky i still have some use for you,” sukuna comments as his big hand moves up to rub your head, subtly ruffling your hair. his actions are in contrast with his words. his words carry the hard 'truth', reminding you of your place as his concubine. but his actions tell you that you’re more than that to him. more than just a toy to his collection.

his fingers trace your cheek, your jaw and down to the collar of your kimono. he slips two digits between the gaps of the fabric and traces your cleavage. your heart rate picks up, which the king of curses easily senses. he shakes his head with a dry and nearly condescending laugh.

you’re easy. easy to pacify, easy to shut up with just a couple touches. that’s also what he likes about you. the fact that you’re so submissive to him when you need to be. sukuna traces the curves of your perky breasts, “you should just look pretty for me like this—listen to me and not get into trouble.”

goosebumps appear on your skin from the sensual touch. a shiver runs down your spine as the tips of his fingers nearly touch your sensitive buds before retreating. it’s a tease meant to drive you crazy, to get you riled up only for nothing to happen.

sukuna leans in and nips at the skin near your throat. his breath is hot and heavy against your neck, his kisses are chaste and tingly. two of his hands pull your upper body against his until you’re chest to chest. his lips find your shoulder, fingers loosening the kimono to expose your sensitive flesh.

“none of this would’ve happened if ya jus’ listened, hm?” sukuna whispers in a rough tone. he knows it’s not fully your fault—that stupid soldier shouldn’t have made a move on you in the first place. although, he can’t help but play mindgames with you. to mold you into the perfect woman for him.

and you fall right into his trap. “sorry. won't do it again,” you reply in a quiet whisper. your own hands clench onto the fabric of his black yukata, eyes closed and head tilted to give sukuna better access to your neck. he appreciates your thoughtfulness as his teeth sink into your flesh.

“hah. that’s what y’ say every time,” the pink-haired curse clicks his tongue. one of his hands moves to the back of your head, fingers curling into the strands of your hair. he tugs at them so you can face him properly.

“. . .such a little brat,” sukuna’s eyes roam over your facial features and down to your body. he gives you a subtle grin before his lips meet yours in a bruising kiss.

you should be feeling guilty for being part of the reason why an entire group of people have lost their lives, yet here you are, shamelessly making out with their executer.

the love you share is toxic, but addictive. you find yourself crawling back to sukuna each time you promise not to fall for his tricks. and the same goes for him.

the king of curses finds himself tolerating more and more of your behavior—behavior that would have others in their grave. no matter what you say or do, he keeps you alive. he simply punishes you in other ways than death, even when death is all he knows.

sukuna bites on your bottom lip which causes your mouth to open. he takes advantage of it and slips his tongue inside, mixing his saliva with yours. he groans against your lips due to the pure pleasure he receives from your kisses.

you pull away suddenly, feeling lightheaded from the lack of air you were getting. the man in front of you scoffs and flicks your forehead for that, grumpy again because you decided to bring an end to his pleasure.

sukuna allows you a little break, however. he brings his mouth to your ear and you swear you can hear the smirk on his lips as he speaks. “y’re mine. don’t you forget,” he mutters to you in a low tone.

you nod without hesitation, “all yours.”

you will never forget that. no matter what you do or where you go— you’re still sukuna’s. in every way possible. there is no escaping him. no one can take you away from him, as you’ve been reminded of an hour ago.

not another man, nor another woman. not even his other concubines can get you out of his sight. they may continue to scheme, but they won’t succeed.

what happened today is still replaying in the back of your mind as the make out session develops into something more. you’ve pushed the guilt, sadness and shame aside for the time being, though you know that those emotions will come crashing down after this is done.

death is inevitable around this place. you’ve grown a bit desensitised to it and have accepted your fate a long time ago when you realised that you had somehow done the impossible.

now you - and the others - are actively suffering the consequences— the consequences of making the ryomen sukuna fall in love.

[retrosabers]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐄’𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌.

logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: the scent of you is driving logan crazy.

contains: mild 18+ content. MINORS DNI. mentions of masturbation (m&f), a steamy little make out, and implications of future smut

word count: 1.8k

a/n: not me trying to capitalize off the hugh jackman renaissance and revive my dead blog…anyways, this is my first time writing for logan! hope you all enjoy <3

i feel like we don’t talk enough about logan’s enhanced sense of smell.

the man can catch a whiff of someone the second they walk into the room, even the building sometimes if their scent is strong enough. it’s especially heightened when he realizes he’s attracted to you. at first he thought maybe it was because you were always wearing perfume, the aroma lingering around the mansion wherever you traveled. but then it became such an intense, all encompassing sensation that he knew it was something deeper.

his suspicions are confirmed one night as he walks past your room. if the faint whimpers he heard weren't enough confirmation of your activities, then the scent that fills his nostrils seals the deal.

you’re touching yourself. and he can smell your arousal.

it makes something stir in his stomach. the animal-like urges he always tries so hard to keep at bay threaten to make their way to the surface the longer he stands frozen in the hallway. logan attempts to shake the heat that spreads across his skin as he makes his way back to his own room, but it only ends with him cumming hard into his hand an hour later.

the next day, when he catches you on your way out of charles’ office, you offer him the same kind, beaming smile you always did. then that damned smell fills his nostrils again and his fists curl at his sides once you’re out of eyesight.

there’s only one explanation for it.

you’re ovulating.

which means there’s no escaping his desires unless you stay out of reach.

so for his sake and yours, he decides to just avoid you completely until the week is over. he can’t risk caving to those urges and doing something stupid and irrational.

of course you’re completely oblivious to it. you think that he’s just being weird, going through another rut of being a standoffish loner like he was when he first arrived at the mansion. because after about a week, he’s back to being a bit friendlier, to being the logan you had grown to call a close friend.

then the cycle seems to repeat itself and you notice it’s just you he’s avoiding.

you try and wrack your brain to think of anything you could’ve done to warrant this kind of isolation. you hoped if something upset logan he would just talk to you about it instead of playing this childish game of hot and cold.

after a couple months, you decide you’ve had enough.

cornering him was a difficult task. but you were observant enough to know certain parts of his routine, including exactly when he would be lingering in the common areas after all the kids had gone to sleep. after two failed attempts of trying to catch him in the kitchen, you finally managed to find him alone and unsuspecting.

“why have you been avoiding me?” you blurt, wanting to cut right to the chase. you’re expecting him to flinch a little bit, perhaps even be stunned.

but he knew you were coming. logan knew it was only a matter of time before you noticed his schtick.

still, he decides to look for an excuse, any excuse, to cover up the real reason.

“m’not avoiding you” he grumbles halfheartedly around the rim of a beer bottle. taking an extra long swig, he finally turns to look at you; leaning against the doorway with your arms folded and a look akin to annoyance plastered across your pretty face.

you cock your head to the side, clearly unimpressed with his answer.

“a few days ago, i watched you back out of a room the minute you realized i was in it,” you start to list off, counting with your fingers. “last month you avoided the wing where the gym was altogether while i was going through a new training regimen.”

logan winces at the memory. the scent of your pheromones was intoxicating. so much so that he couldn’t step foot anywhere near the gym without feeling like he needed to rub one out.

“and the month before that,” you huff out a sad laugh, voice suddenly soft and quiet. “you didn’t even say goodbye before you went off on that mission with scott and jean.”

guilt overtakes him quickly at the pain in your tone.

you’ve never looked smaller as you pick at a loose thread on your sweatpants. “did i do something wrong?”

“no,” logan reassures, jumping out of his seat at record speed, though still trying to maintain some distance. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“then what is it? you sigh exasperatedly, desperate to put an end to this nagging feeling that’s been eating away at you. “logan, you know if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”

and he wants to. he so badly wants to, maybe even see if you’ll offer to help him out. but you’re you. the sweetest, kindest thing he’s ever known and he’ll be damned if he lets his curse of a mutation ruin whatever relationship the two of you have.

but then you’re inching closer and his skin starts buzzing again. his senses are consumed by you. by the way you look up at him with big, wide eyes, the softness of your skin as you reach to place a comforting hand on his forearm. it's all too much, and he finds himself pulling away from you with a grunt.

it hurts to see him retreat from you so aggressively. his jaw is clenched tight, his fists at his sides even tighter as the veins in his arms bulge bigger than you’ve ever seen before. he looks pained. like he’s fighting something internally.

“logan,” you approach him cautiously, unsure of what exactly to do. “what’s going on?”

his eyes squeeze shut at the sound of your voice. “just, please go back to your room.”

“i’m not leaving you like this.”

“m’not asking you,” he grits out, almost like a growl. “i’m telling you. go back to your room.”

now he was starting to piss you off. you narrow your eyes, leaning your hip against the counter.

“or what?”

suddenly he’s crowding your space, chest heaving up and down as he stares at you with pupils so wide his eyes are nearly black. logan’s voice is scarily level when he utters his final warning.

“or i’m gonna do something i regret.”

when you shift closer to him, his nose twitches with a sniff. the raise of your brow doesn’t go unnoticed, and he knows that you’re not leaving this room until you get to the bottom of what he’s been hiding.

that’s when something inside logan decides to throw caution to the wind, just for a minute.

“i can smell you.”

curiosity morphs into confusion at his admission. you shake your head.

“i don’t understand.”

then, the man’s gaze travels to the waistband of your pajama pants, the tension in his jaw growing more taught by the second. his hands flex at his sides, trying to keep him grounded and calm as he finally admits what’s been driving him mad.

“i can smell you.”

the emphasis on the last word takes a minute to register. logan watches as the gears turn behind your eyes, catches the exact moment of realization as your gaze softens and your lips part.

oh.

oh.

slowly things start to piece together. how logan’s behavior seemed to fall around the same time these past couple months. a few weeks before your cycle.

he wasn’t avoiding you because he was angry, or upset. he was avoiding you because you were fucking ovulating.

logan expects you to flee, to be completely weirded out and steer clear of him for the foreseeable future. what he’s not expecting, is the words that come out of your mouth.

“i can help you with that if you want.”

you say it with such nonchalance, such casualness that he wonders if you’re even really grasping what you’ve said.

the wolverine shakes his head. “trust me, you don’t want this.”

he doesn’t quite believe his own words as he watches you close the distance between your bodies. something you’ve been desperate to do for as long as you can remember.

the thin fabric of his tank top and the soft cotton of your t-shirt is the only thing standing between you both. your chests are mere centimeters from touching and logan can feel the heat radiating from your bodies as his confession hangs heavy in the air. then that fucking smell comes back tenfold and he groans.

“you don’t get to make that choice for me,” your voice is sickly sweet, dripping with desire as your fingers ghost over the waistband of his jeans. he feels like a horny teenager as he preens at the barely there contact.

logan breathes your name, a last stitch effort to get you to run, though he knows it’s futile. if there’s one thing he knows about you, it’s that you're stubborn. unmoving in your ways.

and that when you want something, you don’t stop until you get it.

your hand comes up to cradle the side of his face, a rather gentle touch he wasn’t anticipating. his eyes flutter shut as you swipe your thumb over the expanse of his cheekbone.

your words are barely above a whisper. “i trust you, logan. completely.”

that’s all he needs to hear before he throws any sense of self control out the window.

he surges forward and captures your lips in what is possibly the most heated kiss you’ve ever experienced. you nearly stumble over at the sheer force of it. logan’s large hands fly to your waist, yours to the back of his neck as his tongue prods for entrance into your mouth. it’s messy, almost primal as you let him ravish you like he’s been thinking about for weeks.

you moan and he swallows the sound greedily, desperate to hear it again, and again, and again. when his lips move to press against the column of your throat, you know this is going to escalate into exactly what you hoped it would.

“logan,” you breathe out as he focuses on your pulse point, his hands wandering further south to knead at the globes of your ass. “not here.”

“why not?” he mutters, all smirky and smug as he continues to press wet hot kisses against your neck.

“because i would prefer if you didn’t fuck me where our friends eat.”

he laughs, a deep vibration felt against your chest as you absentmindedly grind your core against his. it makes him bring his mouth back up to yours, stealing one final kiss before he pulls away.

looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. and by god you might just let him.

pressing a playful smack against your backside, he gently nudges you in the direction of the corridor.

“lead the way sugar.”

thanks for reading! <3

[rafedarling]

Rustyn goes through a phase where he is very clingy towards the reader and wants to hug and kiss his mother all the time and whenever Drew approaches or kisses the reader, Rustyn becomes irritable because his mother is only for him ,sorry if he gets too involved English is not my first language

𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐚, 𝐧𝐨

pairing: dad!drew starkey x fem!reader

summary: drew loves teasing his little buddy especially now that rustyn has entered a clingy phase. he insists on being the sole recipient of your affection, becoming hilariously territorial whenever drew so much as gives you a kiss.

warning(s): fluff, teasing banter, a possessive toddler, mild suggestive humor between parents, and lots of adorable family dynamics.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe

Rustyn just woke up from his nap as you sat comfortably on the couch, cradling Rustyn in your arms. At two years old, your son was growing fast, but right now, he seemed small and vulnerable as he snuggled against you, freshly awake from his nap. His tiny arms wrapped securely around your neck, and his head rested on your chest, soaking in your warmth.

“You have a good nap, sweetheart?” you murmured softly, running your fingers through his messy hair.

Rustyn nodded sleepily, his body still heavy with the haze of sleep. He hummed contentedly, nestling even closer.

From across the room, Drew’s familiar voice broke the peace.

“Baby,” he called, his tone laced with affection.

You looked up to find your husband leaning casually against the doorway, his blue eyes sparkling as they met yours. He wore his usual easy grin, the kind that made your heart flutter even after all these how many years.

“Hmm?” you replied, your lips curling into a smile.

Drew crossed the room in a few strides, leaning down to kiss you. His lips brushed yours softly.

Before you could reciprocate, however, a firm “No!” interrupted the moment.

You pulled back slightly, startled, and glanced down to see Rustyn glaring up at Drew. His tiny hand shot up, attempting to push Drew away from you.

“Excuse me?” Drew asked, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. He crouched down to Rustyn’s level, resting his forearms on his knees.

“Are you trying to tell me I can’t kiss Mommy?”

Rustyn nodded solemnly, his blue eyes narrowing in determination.

“Mommy’s mine,” he declared, his voice firm despite its high-pitched sweetness.

Drew chuckled, straightening up and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, really? Well, fyi ‘for your information’, little man, Mommy was my woman first. Before you even existed.”

Rustyn’s face twisted into an exaggerated pout, his small arms tightening possessively around your neck.

“No. Mommy’s mine,” he repeated, his tone unwavering.

You stifled a laugh, brushing a hand over Rustyn’s curls.

“Drew, stop teasing him. He just woke up.”

“But it’s so easy,” Drew said with a grin, leaning down to kiss your temple.

Rustyn immediately reacted, a whiny “No!” escaping him as he pushed at Drew’s shoulder with all his might.

“Alright, alright,” Drew said, stepping back with his hands raised in surrender.

“I’ll back off for now.”

Rustyn gave him a triumphant look, his little chest puffed out as he settled back against you.

You shook your head, biting back a smile.

“You know you’re just making it worse, right?”

“Yeah,” Drew admitted, plopping down on the couch beside you.

“But come on, look at him. He’s like a tiny bodyguard.”

Rustyn’s eyes darted suspiciously toward Drew, as though ensuring he wouldn’t try anything again.

Drew leaned closer to you, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“You think he’s gonna start charging me a toll just to kiss my own wife?”

You laughed quietly, careful not to disturb Rustyn.

“Wouldn’t surprise me. He’s been attached to me like glue all week.”

“Bathroom glue?” Drew asked, raising an eyebrow.

You groaned.

“Yes, even bathroom glue.”

Drew whistled, shaking his head.

“Man, he’s really got me beat.”

The next morning, Drew woke up to the sound of giggles coming from the living room. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and padded down the hallway, stopping in his tracks when he saw you and Rustyn sitting on the floor.

You were still in your pjs, your hair loosely tied back, as Rustyn sat in your lap, clumsily stacking blocks. He was giggling uncontrollably.

Drew leaned against the doorway, with a fond smile across his face.

“Well, don’t I feel left out?”

Rustyn’s laughter ceased abruptly as he looked up, his expression instantly turning wary.

“Good morning, you two,” Drew said, stepping into the room.

He crouched down beside you and reached out to ruffle Rustyn’s hair.

“Morning,” you replied with a smile, tilting your head to kiss Drew on the cheek.

Rustyn, however, wasn’t having it. He quickly turned to block Drew’s path, wrapping his arms around you protectively.

“Mine!” he declared, his voice carrying the authority of someone much older than three.

Drew snorted. “Here we go… again.”

You tried to smooth things over, rubbing Rustyn’s back.

“Rustyn, sweetie, Dada’s just saying good morning.”

“No,” Rustyn said stubbornly, glaring at Drew.

“Wow, sassy” Drew said, sitting back on his heels.

“You really don’t want to share, huh?”

Rustyn shook his head firmly, burying his face in your shoulder.

You sighed, giving Drew an apologetic look.

“He’s in full cling mode right now. It’s a phase.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll remember this when he’s a teenager and wants nothing to do with either of us,” Drew said, though his tone was light.

Rustyn peeked out at Drew, his pout softening slightly.

“Mommy’s mine,” he whispered, as if reiterating his claim.

“Alright, alright, she’s all yours” Drew said, holding up his hands.

Rustyn grinned, clearly satisfied with his victory.

Drew shook his head, chuckling.

“You know, for someone so small, he’s got a lot of attitude.”

“Wonder where he gets it from,” you teased, raising an eyebrow at Drew.

Drew smirked. “Definitely you.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. Moments like this were your favorite.

By the afternoon, Drew decided it was time to reclaim some territory. While Rustyn was busy playing with his toy cars, Drew sidled up to you in the kitchen.

You were chopping vegetables for lunch when he slipped his arms around your waist from behind.

“Hi,” he murmured against your ear.

“Hello,” you replied, smiling as you leaned into him.

“You know,” Drew began, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “I don’t think Rustyn’s watching right now.”

You turned your head to look at him.

“Drew,” you warned, though your tone lacked any real conviction.

“What? Can’t a husband show his wife some affection?” he asked innocently.

Before you could respond, the sound of tiny feet padding into the kitchen reached your ears.

Rustyn appeared in the doorway, his eyes narrowing when he saw Drew holding you.

“No!”

Drew sighed dramatically, releasing you and turning to face Rustyn. “Really? I can’t even hug Mommy now?”

Rustyn marched over, his little fists balled up at his sides.

“No, Dada! Mommy’s mine!”

Drew knelt down to his son’s level, shaking his head.

“You’ve got some nerve, kid.”

Rustyn crossed his arms, his pout deepening.

“Mommy loves me more.”

Drew gasped, clutching his chest as though Rustyn’s words had physically wounded him.

“Oh, that’s cold, buddy. Real cold.”

You laughed, leaning against the counter.

“You walked right into that one.”

Drew looked up at you, his expression mock-wounded.

“You’re supposed to have my back.”

“I’m just enjoying the show,” you teased.

Rustyn, now satisfied that Drew had been properly put in his place, turned back to you and raised his arms. “Mama up, pleaze.”

You obliged, scooping him up and resting him on your hip.

Drew shook his head as he stood. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Rusty.”

Rustyn stuck his tongue out at Drew, prompting you to scold him gently. “Rustyn, be nice to Dada.”

“Yeah, listen to Mommy,” Drew said, grinning.

Rustyn huffed but leaned his head against your shoulder, clearly unwilling to share you anytime soon.

Drew stepped closer, placing a hand on your back.

“One day, buddy, you’re gonna regret pushing me away. You’ll want my advice on girls, sports, life…and I might just remind you of this moment.”

Rustyn didn’t respond, already drifting off into another nap.

You smiled at Drew, your heart full. “You know he loves you, right?”

“Oh, I know,” Drew said, his grin softening into a tender smile.

“But right now, he’s a mommy’s boy so...”

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way,” you added knowingly.

Drew nodded, wrapping an arm around you both.

“Not for a second.”

[sevikasbooyahh]

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐇𝐂'𝐬

Just random random headcannons about my wife <3

She makes lots of noises; grunts, sighs, groans. It’s basically a language that only you can understand at this point.

“Hmph,” she grunted with her usual grumpy expression. “You want cuddles?” She nods her head in response.

Snores but denies it. It’s like when you’re sharing a hotel room with your family and your dad’s snoring keeps you awake; staring at the ceiling. You’ve told her multiple times but she just doesn’t believe it.

“You kept me awake all night,” you said in disbelief as your utterly exhausted eyes met hers. “Uh-huh, how? Do NOT say because I was snoring.””You were snoring.”

But in all seriousness, she started sleeping on her side—the snoring was due to her sleeping on her back.

Doesn’t care for public affection, not that she won’t slip her arm around your waist or have her hand on your thigh once in a while—but it isn’t often.

(Saw someone else say this)—absolutely loves dad jokes. She won’t laugh at anything else but dad jokes.

“Hey babe,” you slid next to her on the couch. “Hm?””What days are the strongest?“ you asked. “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Saturday and Sunday,” you started to smile. “Why?” She was slightly curious. “‘Cause the rest are weekdays,” she couldn’t even hold it before she burst out laughing.

Takes her mechanical arm off before she goes to bed because she doesn’t wanna hurt you.

Tough with everyone else but you, Jinx and Isha (they’re alive and well).

Isha made a cheerful noise as she raised her tea cup. Sevika sat across from her, hunched over the small table, teacup in hand. She pretended to drink from it, “Mm, nice.”

Perfers actions over words—for example, her version of an apology is by doing more of what she should’ve done in the past. If she wasn’t spending much time with you before, she’d immediately take it upon herself to fix her schedule.

VERY protective, especially when you’re at The Last Drop, nothing escapes her vision.

Once, this guy attempted to flirt with you but before he could get a word out, he was immediately met with a deadly glare from her. She pulled you closer towards her with a raised eyebrow, “You got something to say?” That sent him babbling in fear, “Uh-no, no, of course not!—“”Get out of my sight.”

Claims she’s not an animal person but will come home with a kitten she found on the street.

“It wouldn’t stop following me,” she said while avoiding eye contact with you. You knew she was lying.

Sometimes when she comes back from work she’ll just collapse on the couch. She’s a busy woman, alright?

Jinx cut her hair then made fun of her afterwards.

Jinx cackled after she looked at the final product, “Sweetcheeks ain’t gonna love you now, are they?” The older woman simply grumbled under breath, “You’re the one who cut it.””Yeah and I made it ugly on purpose.”

You ended up loving her hair anyway.

Secretly likes when you lay on top of her; loves seeing how comfortable you are

She’s always warm; your personal heater

Somehow gives the best hugs—bear hugs, but is so awkward with it

Takes the longest showers known to mankind; once she gets in, be prepared to wait about an hour. Meanwhile, half the time it’s just her staring at the wall.

Will let Isha climb her on rare occasions; sometimes the girl gets insanely hyper and is moving all over the place.

Says she’s “not fond of kids” but has a soft spot for them.

A little boy with blue-dyed hair walked up to her while she was outside one day. “H-hi, can you please sign this?” He asked in a soft-spoken manner, showing a drawing, offered with a crayon. She didn’t respond but took the paper and signed her name on the back. Internally, she was in disbelief that this boy looked up to her in some way. “Thank you!” He gave a big smile before running back to his group of friends, happily showing them the signature. A twitch edged at the end of her mouth.

[wannabespacesmuggler]

L.H. | Scotty Doesn't Know

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Scott Summers made two things clear for Logan when he first arrived at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters: stay away from his girlfriend and don’t even look at his little sister. The former was easy.  The latter, though? That one’s a little harder for Logan.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Summers!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence

Word Count: 2.2K

Author’s Note: So, your boy has seen Deadpool and Wolverine too many times and is currently experiencing Hugh Jackman brain rot. Had to write something after listening to "Scotty Doesn't Know" by Lustra and then it just kinda just took on a life of it's own. Let me know if you guys want more Logan fics because I'm so obsessed with this man rn.

“Just doing maintenance, or are you going for a ride?”

Logan looks up from where he was working on his bike. He damn near almost bites through the cigar in his mouth when he spots you leaning against the garage door. He shouldn’t be surprised; despite his best efforts, Logan always seems to be accompanied by your presence -- both at the mansion and in the field. It’s not that he wants to ignore your existence. Scott Summers made two things clear for Logan when he first arrived at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters: stay away from his girlfriend and don’t even look at his little sister. Logan wanted to scoff at Scott’s warning: opposed to public belief, he’s not actually an animal. 

The former was easy -- Jean made it abundantly clear that she’s in love with Scott. The latter, though? That one’s a little harder for Logan -- especially when you’ve made it abundantly clear that you’re just as fascinated with him as he is with you. 

“Just working.”

You nod at his answer as he returns his attention to his bike, putting out his cigar in the process. His bluntness is unsurprising, but no matter how often Logan tries to blow you off, you still feel the harsh sting of disappointment. Logan Howlett is an enigma to you. A problem you just can’t seem to find the solution to. You’ve always gotten along with Logan and work well enough together that Charles often pairs the two of you up on missions. He protects you with his life in the field. He’s the first to offer you a helping hand when he notices you struggling. He consistently provides support after every mission that goes awry. It would be easy to consider him a friend; however, Logan has always kept you at a distance. He brushes you off whenever you ask if he wants to do something simple like share a drink or watch a movie. 

At first, you thought it was because he was afraid of you -- of your mutation. Just like your older brothers, you have the ability to manipulate energy. And just like your older brothers, you have difficulty controlling your powers without the help of external factors -- Alex had the suit, Scott has his glasses, and you have two siphons that you wear on either wrist. Without them, energy builds up in your body until it cannot be contained and then escapes through the only place it knows how -- your hands. The siphons help regulate the amount of energy coursing through your body, and most importantly, they give you the power to choose when and how to disperse it. 

During one of your missions, one of your siphons was destroyed. You and Logan were fighting for your lives against an anti-mutant militia after being separated from the rest of the X-men. The two of you were outnumbered and on your own since communication with the team had been cut off. Logan was willing to fight to the death against these soldiers, and you were prepared to back him up until the end. During the fight, Logan got pinned down by multiple assailants, and you watched helplessly as they attempted to decapitate your partner. You felt the familiar sensation of energy building throughout your body as you struggled against your own group of attackers. All hope seemed lost until one of the soldiers nailed you in the back of the head -- hard. The hit caused you to fall forward, and you braced yourself, using your hands to catch your falling body. As your hands connected with the ground, an energy field shot out of your hands. You prepared yourself for another blow, but it never comes. The chaos around you suddenly seemed to turn into an eerie silence. Finally, you look up and let out a shaky breath as you take in the carnage caused by your energy field. Everything around you was completely eviscerated -- everything except Logan.

Logan let out a low, pained groan, and you watched in horror as his body heals himself from the wounds you inflicted. You looked down at your hands in shock. It’s been ages since your powers were this volatile. Since you felt this out of control. At this moment, you noticed the state of your left siphon -- wholly shattered. No wonder you weren’t able to control your powers. 

The sound of your name eventually pulled your attention away from your hands. Looking up, you saw Logan cautiously approaching you. His concerned eyes scan your body for any injuries and once he seemed certain that you’re okay, he met your gaze.

“We need to get out of here.”

It wasn’t until the you were back on the jet with the rest of the team, that Logan approached you about what happened in the field. You were sitting away from the others at the back of the jet, studying your broken siphon. Suddenly, a pair of large hands cover yours, obscuring your siphon entirely. You look up and see Logan knelt in front of you. 

“You good?”

He didn’t move his hands from yours as he spoke and you relished in the contact. A dry laugh escaped your lips as you considered his question.

“I couldn’t control myself out there, Logan. Without my siphons, I’m just as dangerous as the enemy out there.”

Logan’s face softened at your words. He understands why you’re so panic-stricken right now -- knowing all too well how it feels to lose control.

“Hey. Look at me, sweetheart. I’m fine.”

You scoffed at his words. Of course he’s fine. He’s damn near indestructible, but you saw the aftermath of your outburst. Saw the devastation caused by your hands. Those same hands that Logan is now tightening his grip around -- grounding you back in reality.

“Seriously. You might think you were a liability out there, but you saved my life.”

You met his eyes again and are taken aback by the sincerity you found in them. 

“I could have killed you.” 

And there it is -- what’s actually eating you up inside. He’s aware of the fact that your powers could have killed any of your teammates -- including himself. But they didn’t. He’s here with you, unafraid, because even though you think your powers are something that should be feared, he just finds them remarkable.

“I know. Trust me, I know. But you didn’t.”

You nodded at his words, feeling a little more at ease. Your heart dropped as he removed his hands from yours, but instead of walking away, Logan took a seat next to you. He didn’t say another word, but he didn’t have to. His presence alone was enough to settle you down.

After that day, you thought maybe something changed between you and Logan. Although there was a newfound understanding and sureness with one another -- he still kept you at arm’s length. In all honesty, the whole situation confuses the shit out of you.

“Did I do something that upset you?”

Logan’s brow furrows at your question, and his eyes finally find yours again. He doesn’t drop the tool in his hand, but he’s shifted his body to face yours now.

“What?”

“Did I do something that upset you?”

Logan shakes his head as you repeat your question, looking at you incredulously. He doesn’t understand where this outburst is coming from.

“What are you talking about?”

Your brow furrows at the genuineness of his confusion. How could this man not know what you’re talking about?

“Do you like working with me?”

Logan blinks at your words. Now he’s completely lost. He sets down the tool in his hand and stands up, crossing both of his arms over his chest. 

“What’s this all about, sweetheart?”

You let out a frustrated sigh and run your hands through your hair. If only this man knew how infuriated he makes you. So, he won’t drink a beer with you at the end of the day, but he’ll throw around the name ‘sweetheart’ like it’s nothing? The man is simultaneously your favorite and least favorite person.

“I’m just trying to figure out what I did that pissed you off.”

Logan scoffs at the idea as if you’re the one being ridiculous here. And, to Logan, you are being ridiculous. The only thing that’s ever pissed him about you is completely out of your control -- if only you weren’t Scott’s little sister.

“I’m not pissed at you.”

You genuinely want to pull your own hair out right now.

“Are we friends?”

Friends. The word hurts Logan more than it should. Actually, it shouldn’t hurt at all. That’s what you both are, right? Just friends and partners in the field. Except you’ve never been just a friend or just a partner to Logan. Not really. But he can’t do anything about that. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, but his posture is still defensive. 

“Then why won’t you just drink a beer with me?”

Oh. Oh.

Logan supposes that his behavior is odd. Friends are expected to spend time together and well, the only time he spends with you is during training sessions or missions. Your whole relationship is grounded in the two of you working together, but somehow, it’s turned into something more intimate. The tender moments between missions and the tension during intense training sessions -- although Logan had attempted to make clear boundaries with you, the lines blurred at some point, and now Logan is left with the consequences.

“It’s complicated.”

He’s not wrong. He knows himself. His feelings for you were already complicated enough. If he were to close the distance he made between the two of you? Well, he may not actually be an animal, but he’s not sure if he could control himself. 

“Oh, is it?”

You’re frustrated. And you’re no longer leaning against the garage door. No, you’re standing just a few feet away from him now -- hands on your hips defiantly. Logan rolls his shoulders back, trying to stop himself from lashing out against you. You try to ignore how his muscles flex against the thin white tank top he’s wearing due to the movement. 

“Yeah, it is. I promised Scott…”

“This is seriously about my brother?”

“Well, yeah.”

You let out a dry laugh. This whole situation is absurd, but you should have known. Without Alex around, Scott feels the need to be the overprotective older brother. He’s warned you about Logan countless times since he first arrived at the mansion, but you never really listened to him. It always seemed ridiculous to you -- especially since the dangerous man he constantly warned you about was the same man he trusted to protect you during every mission. Of course, Scott also cautioned Logan to stay away from you.

“He may be my brother, but he doesn’t get to make my decisions for me, Logan.”

You take a step towards Logan and he watches you with an intensity that would make you uncomfortable if it were any other man. But this isn’t any other man. 

“And he doesn’t get to choose who I spend my time with.”

And in this moment, Logan knows that he’s fucked. You’re fiesty, and headstrong, and determined -- all attributes that he admires in you. If you’ve decided that he’s the person you want to spend your time with, then who is he to argue? 

“So what do you say -- wanna go for a ride?”

A wild grin spread across his face at your question. Little do you know that he’s thought about this exact moment more than he’ll ever care to admit. Throwing all caution to the wind, he grabs his leather jacket and climbs on his bike. You watch him with bated breath as you wait for his response. Instead of giving you an answer, Logan kicks the starter, causing the motorcycle to roar to life. A part of you is afraid that you misconstrued your relationship and that this is all going to end with Logan riding off on his own. But then Logan looks back at you, eyebrow raised playfully.

“You coming, sweetheart?” 

Without a second thought, you climb on the back of his bike. Logan revs the engine once before glancing back at you again. 

“You might want to hang on.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Your hands slide under his leather jacket and wrap around his waist. Logan tries to fight off the shiver that begs to travel down his spine as he feels the warmth of your hands against his abdomen through the thin cotton fabric. He wonders if you know what you do to him -- how hard it is for him to pull away when he’s in your presence. It’s like you're a magnet made just for him.

“When your brother finds out…”

The laugh that escapes your lips is like music to his ears. And as you press your body closer to his, he decides that even if he’s going to hell for this, at least he gets to experience the heaven of this moment right here.

“What Scotty doesn’t know, won’t kill him.”

Logan shakes his head before peeling out of the garage. God, the Summers family is going to be the death of him.

[dreammfyre]

wedding celebration ⋆ jacaerys velaryon

SUMMARY. You are the only Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter. Jacaerys is your brother, but is engaged to Baela Targaryen and this is the celebration of their wedding announcement.

WARNINGS. +18. Targaryen incest, rude Jacaerys, AU (no Dance of the Dragons, Rhaenyra is the Queen of Seven Kingdoms.)

The engagement celebration was overwhelming and exhausting for you. The queen did not skimp on the grandeur of the event, a dinner full of variety and fresh delicacies, fruits, desserts, large platters of roasted meats that they tore to shreds leaving only the bones. All to celebrate in grand style the marriage of her first son with the daughter of Daemon Targaryen.

For you it was being a bore, sitting next to your brother Lucerys Velaryon who was talking with Rhaena Targaryen. Everyone was enjoying the dragon riders, while you just wanted to escape from the hall where the music, the shouting and the applause made it impossible to have a conversation. Sitting down you played with the food left on your plate, moving your fork side to side without purpose in that place, no one spoke to you, and when they did it was to talk about the couple of the moment. You were trying to get your mother's attention sitting next to Daemon, but she was too busy attending to everyone, always smiling and raising her glass to Jacaerys and Baela to look at you. On your other side, your little brother, Joffrey, was trying to convince you to dance a piece, but you refused for shame of falling down in the attempt.

You watched your brother Jacaerys laugh whispering in his betrothed's ear. But when he looked at you you looked away immediately. You felt your face hot with embarrassment at being discovered, but deep down you didn't mind being unwelcome.

A knight of House Lannister approached the table you shared with your family to ask if you wished to dance with him. Distressed to answer, you looked at your mother pleading for help, but Rhaenyra forced you to stand up for the first time since the event began and do some socializing, something you find very difficult to do.

It was awkward throughout, he just showed you off like a trophy and never looked you in the eye you felt like the song went on for hours. You went round and round, when he touched you a little rejection won you over and you ended up taking a step back. Your smell of alcohol gave you away as did your clumsy and uncoordinated movements. A few meters away, Prince Jacaerys noticed the situation, attentive if his sister needed help. He didn't like to see you with other men, they didn't know how to treat you and that was further proof, he noticed you uncomfortable looking at the exit constantly touching your waist too long. He took the opportunity to get close to your face, he didn't listen to what you were saying but from your facial expression he didn't need to know.

"Is something wrong?" asked Baela noticing that her fiancé was too distracted. Jacaerys immediately denied without arousing suspicion, but without ceasing to be attentive to the situation assuming that he was just behaving like an older brother protecting his sister.

While you continued to dance the extensive choreography you exchanged glances with your brother. None of them looked down, Jacaerys' tense jaw reflected his annoyance.

"You look especially beautiful tonight, my princess," said the blond-haired gentleman, gaining your attention. "The red brings out your look."

Without realizing it, you smiled. It was the first time anyone had complimented your dress that you designed, until the wine glass your escort was holding spilled on you when another gentleman accidentally pushed it. You let out a small scream as you felt the liquid on your skin, the fabric absorbed all the alcohol ruining the golden color of the embroidery.

"Gods." You whispered annoyed looking at the mess you brought on yourself. You looked at the queen who stood attentive to you, Jacaerys stopped suddenly leaving Baela dancing alone by her side who in the happiness of her engagement was not attentive to her guests. "My dress…"

"My princess, I am sorry. I didn't mean to." Said the knight wiping a cloth across your torso, drying a few drops of wine.

"Don't touch me!" You exclaimed when his fingers brushed your chest, an unpleasant and invasive sensation. People turned at your shout and at all that attention you ran, finally escaping the room amidst malicious whispers that were sure to become controversial by tomorrow.

Locked yourself in your room staring at the reflection of the stain I had left on you, cursing yourself for agreeing to leave your safe place in the chair next to your mother and now your favorite dress was ruined. Your fingertips had also turned crimson and you reeked of alcohol.

Not even a minute passed when there was a loud knock on your door, startling you by the unexpected. You approached taking a deep breath so as not to sound distressed or upset.

"I'm fine, mother. I'd rather stay and rest." You said, complimenting yourself for sounding so convincing.

"Let me through." You opened your eyes when Jacaerys' voice was heard on the other side. You immediately opened the door and your brother entered your quarters, which he knew by heart, and hurriedly closed the door before a guard discovered them. You didn't reach to say anything when he rushed to ask. "Did he do something to you?"

"What are you doing here, idiot? You're the fucking groom."

"Did he touch you?" he kept asking, looking at you intently, scaring you. "Damn it. Answer me, did he dare offend you?"

"Balea must be worried about you, must go back." You raised your voice, annoyed by your brother's recklessness. "Her Majesty must be asking about you and I don't think Daemon would be amused if you left his daughter alone in the middle of the celebration."

"Let them ask whatever they want, you know I care little for them and they'll have a hard time finding me."

"Don't tell me lies. You're the heir, all eyes are on you now, it's only natural that you care about your reputation." You said turning your back on him, you weren't angry, you were just being realistic. You didn't want him to look at you. "You need to go back, Jace, your fiancée is probably looking for you around the castle and she's not going to want to find you here."

"You think I want this for myself?" his question sent chills down your spine, Jacaerys' tone sounded hurt. "You must understand what it means to do the duty of our position."

Damn. You thought. That conversation again.

"Do you really want to talk about this right now?"

You heard his footsteps, the right thing to do was for him to leave you alone, but his hands came to rest on your shoulders. An intense sensation ran up your neck as his breath hit your cold skin. His pointed nose touched your back awkwardly moving unsure of his decisions, hands shifted to your waist clinging tightly without letting go. You couldn't control yourself, Jacaerys was yours, you hated to see him with another lady.

"Jace." You whispered with your eyes closed. You wanted to say with all your might that it wasn't right, but the warmth of his breath and his fingers touching yours was so much better.

"Just shut up, can you?" He ordered plaintiff. "And don't call me a liar, that makes me mad, you know it."

Listening to him angry you loved it, he was always so correct but when they were alone you couldn't control it.

You could fall into his arms easily, he had the demanding tone you need to hear. You turned around looking for his mouth desperate to kiss him, to reaffirm that he has been yours forever. His wet lips with yours knew each other perfectly, you were not new to this nor had you spoken of leaving him. Jacaerys took your neck with his hand squeezing gently, but enough to know he didn't want you to move. His tongue entered your mouth invading your space, desperate for your touch he cupped your cheek. You ran your hand through his long hair, tangling your fingers in his curls pulling them pulling his body closer to yours.

"Do you want to do it now?" he growled between your lips without letting go of your waist. You nodded without hesitation forgetting the fear of being discovered, you were so needy and only he could help you. "Gods, you're such a good sister."

Between wet kisses and ragged breaths they reached your bed which was perfectly tidy. His suit with the symbol of House Targaryen stood out on his chest, he sat on the edge waiting for you to sit on it, when you did he kissed your bare neck leaving marks that he cared little if they showed later, he wanted to mark you, that no one would look at you, but the idea that you were desired by the knights he always liked because he could have you while the others only desired you.

"That idiot won't bother you again." He muttered with difficulty, but convinced to keep his word for you. "Vermax will turn it to ashes."

You were so wet that any touch was going to make you scream in orgasm. Jacaerys was your first man and you didn't want anyone to be your second. The first time Jacaerys was gentle and soft with you, but the more they repeated it, hidden from the eyes and ears of others, you experienced more things that pleased both. Your favorite place was the bed, you could do many things there and get into various positions that made you feel more of him.

"We don't have much time, darling." Said the boy tucking a strand of your long hair behind your ear. "We can save that for another day."

In a hurry and a little clumsy, you pulled up the long skirt of your dress just enough to be exposed above it, none of you were naked, you could imagine that the celebration had not stopped in the absence of the prince nor yours. Jacaerys also settled down below you without taking his eyes off you at any time, thinking that he did not want any maiden, however pure and elegant. That wasn't the first time time time had worked against them, but the adrenaline rush was unique, like riding dragons. The sex felt much better though.

"Come here." He commanded with dilated pupils, tired and anxious from so much waiting to feel you. His hot member brushed against your wet entrance unleashing an intense sensation that made you moan but without opening your mouth. Jacaerys' hands slipped under your dress while you didn't let go of his shoulders so you wouldn't lose your balance, your knees bent on the mattress giving you comfort and the prince sitting under you, watching your every expression.

"You don't know how much I was looking forward to having you again." You said panting, your skin beginning to flush from the heat emanating from your bodies. "Promise you won't leave me." You said taking her face in your hands, desperate for the rubbing between your legs. "Get fucking married, but you'll keep coming back to me."

When he entered you let out a sweet moan that you tried to hide by covering your mouth. Jacaerys threw his head back taking a moment to accommodate you, you were so wet he slid in easily reaching your bottom in a matter of seconds. You squeezed his shoulder reflexively and he smiled when he heard you moan.

"Look at me." He commanded taking in your hot face, you found it hard to concentrate feeling him so deep inside you, but you looked into his eyes. "I will always come back to you." Replied.

And that was what you needed to hear.

You moved up and down slowly, Jacaerys moans giving you more pleasure from the movements and the feeling between your legs. The prince closed his eyes tensing his jaw holding his cum so fast, you kissed him biting his thick lips at the same time moaning louder.

You were clothed but it felt so good to feel his member rubbing against your walls that you just wanted to increase the speed. Jace enjoyed feeling you, with your hands he pulled down the front of your stained dress to let your breasts out. He took one between his big hands to squeeze it mercilessly, making you moan, you were very sensitive to any touch and your brother knows how to take you to the max.

"Jace." You gasped without stopping.

"Go on." He challenged you.

You listened to him, obviously. You were convinced that if at that moment Baela Targaryen entered you would not mind if she found you riding her future husband.

You felt him hard and hot, you watched him writhe with pleasure under your body, you kept moving until you couldn't hold back the urge to speak.

"Do you know what that man told me?" You asked pausing for a second, Jacaerys eyes opened still inside you, you caressed his open, swollen lips. "If I married him I was never going to be short of a good fuck."

The prince's expression changed completely, you knew what you had just done and you didn't regret it. He grabbed you by the waist and turned you over on the bed leaving you exposed to his desire and discomfort. He quickly pulled your dress up again entering you, this time without softness or gentleness that characterized him, you screamed forgetting that you should keep quiet to guard his secret, but he grabbed you so tightly and kept moving behind you.

"Do you like it like this?" he asked agitated, moving back and forth constantly, you were clinging to the sheets. You nodded unable to modulate a statement. "No one can touch you." He kept up the accelerated pace. You stuck your cheek to the mattress in pain but the sensation in your legs was growing, the friction was getting more and more delicious and rough, it was something new that you liked. Your brother's hands were marked on your skin, there was less and less time left to feel the orgasm. You wanted him to know what he was going to miss out on by marrying another woman.

"Jaca-Jacaerys." You tried to speak.

"A little more." He begged.

You couldn't stand the pressure growing under her belly any longer, your legs faltered and your chest couldn't expand any more. You stood there for a few seconds recomposing yourself, trying to get the air back into your hot agitated lungs. You turned to look at him, he looked exhausted, his skin red and curls in disarray. You had never felt his anger or jealousy over you.

You sat on the edge of your bed while he quietly adjusted his pants. Jacaerys looked at herself in the mirror, adjusting her hair, her suit, trying to conceal it. You didn't know whether to speak or remain silent.

"I'll go back to the celebration." He said without looking at you.

"It's okay." You whispered tidying the long skirt of the frayed dress. "I think so do I."

The prince turned with an expression of unpleasant surprise. "Are you serious?"

"Sure. I'm going to change this fucking dress first." You affirmed with an innocent smile. Your hair messy, your lips swollen and wet were still warm. "Congratulations for your wedding; brother." You scoffed.

Jacaerys grabbed your jaw hard stealing a long kiss that you didn't manage to escape. He looked at you disapprovingly. "You’re wicked."

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Pyramid Head! Ghost

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Dubious Consent, Stomach Bulging, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Size Difference, Size Kink, Manhandling, Kidnapping, Punishment, Possessive! Ghost, Dark! Ghost, Implied Female Reader, Profanity, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

Pyramid Head! Ghost finds you wandering around Silent Hill, desperately searching for an exit. 

You’re the first proper, living thing he’s come across in a long time, so he decides to take you for himself.

Pyramid Head! Ghost plucks you from where you stand and throws you over his shoulder like a rag doll.

You don’t fight him, unsure of his intentions with you. He didn’t attack you on sight like all the other monsters did, but when you hear the way he growls at you, feel the way he grips you with his thick fingers pressing between your legs, you’re certain they aren’t pure.

Pyramid Head! Ghost keeps you in a building he knows to be clear of monsters, but that doesn’t mean you’re safe. On the contrary, when you realise what he intends to do with you, you wish you were still outside fighting for your life.

Pyramid Head! Ghost has a nigh-insatiable sex drive – something you discover when he comes to you, lumbering with the weight of his erect cock and engorged ballsack, and takes you in his hand like the doll you are.

Pyramid Head! Ghost uses you as his own cum rag, abusing your body by furiously rubbing you along the length of his shaft until you’re slick and coated in pre, shortly followed by thick ropes of semen that stain your clothes and leave you wet in places you’d rather not think about.

He likes to think of it as marking his territory. Of letting all the other monsters know that you’re his.

Pyramid Head! Ghost has, of course, attempted to use you as a fuck doll, too, though he’s only ever managed to force little more than his bulbous, leaking tip inside you, both you and your body crying out for him to stop when you feel him filling you, telling him you can’t take any more. And he’d have ignored your pleas were it not for the fact he can actually see himself bulging within you, your body choking around him as you sob and beg for him to pull out.

Despite how barbaric he is, Pyramid Head! Ghost doesn’t intend on breaking you. Not just yet, anyway.

You’re no use to him dead, so he leaves you intact for now, instead lodging what little of himself your body can take and stroking his length until he cums, hard and deep, inside you.

His load is hot – uncomfortably so – and so unimaginably heavy that it leaves you limping and leaking for days afterwards.

Pyramid Head! Ghost never lets you wear pants or underwear when he’s done with you. He enjoys the sight of his seed leaking out of you and the bump in your stomach too much.

Pyramid Head! Ghost especially enjoys making you lay before him and spreading your legs so he can see you dripping, a puddle forming between your legs. He’ll push down on your bump, too, feeling his cock twitch when you yelp, his cum squirting out of you and leaving a spray of white translucence across the floor.

You weren’t his first outlet in Silent Hill, but you are his favourite. Hence, he never lets you take a break, using you almost daily to satiate the throbbing between his legs, the primal urge to breed.

More often than not, after making thorough use of you, Ghost has caught you holding your swollen stomach, your skin tender and stretched, as you moan in discomfort.

Pyramid Head! Ghost wonders, briefly, what it would be like to give you one permanently. To embed within you his offspring – something aside from you that he can call his own in this barren wasteland.

The idea becomes something of a fantasy for Pyramid Head! Ghost, and, when you’re secured inside your makeshift home with no hope of escape, he goes out and finds baby clothes, bringing them back to you as if to show them off. To make his intentions with you clear.

The only way you’re avoiding this fate is if you’re incapable of bearing children. Otherwise, Pyramid Head! Ghost absolutely rawdogs you until the viscous ropes of semen he’s pumped into you takes, leaving you weeping and sweaty and his from the inside.

He picks you up and literally holds you upside down afterwards, leaving no way for you to escape your destiny with him whilst doing everything in his power to ensure your pregnancy.

You can feel his semen gushing out of you even then, trickling from between your legs up your abdomen, your chest. Milk tears when they reach your face.

Pyramid Head! Ghost does nothing less than coo over you once you begin to show, not letting you walk anywhere, bringing you maternity clothes, destroying any and all monsters that dare to come near you.

He holds you against his chest, too, letting you use him as your bed on cold nights, and cradles you in his arms. Stares with what could be adoration down at your swelling tummy.

He can’t deny how his chest tightens when he hears you sobbing, though, the sheer weight and size of his child inside you causing you nothing but pain as Pyramid Head! Ghost uses you as his incubator. He hadn’t accounted for the fact that perhaps your fragile human body would struggle bearing the offspring of something as massive as himself.

Pyramid Head! Ghost does what he can to alleviate the pain, oftentimes with him letting you ride his shaft until you’re satisfied or groping the area between your legs until you cum, your orgasm a momentary distraction from your eternity with him.

Pyramid Head! Ghost will never let you go. Especially once you’re with his child. And he can’t imagine just stopping at one, either.

Pyramid Head! Ghost won’t stop until this town is rebuilt in the image of your family – everything he could never have when he was alive.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad X

[ttsukiimi]

〃★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⎯ the jjk men n how they treat you after s⍣x. - submitted by anon.

〃★ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⎯ nanami x fem!reader, toji x fem!reader, gojo x fem!reader, choso x fem!reader, aftercare, brief mentions of smut (mdni), unprotected s⍣x, creamp⍣es, fluff, established relationship, rough s⍣x, reader referred to as (baby, doll, sweetheart.)

────〃ଘ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 - second thoughts…

Nanami is always considerate of you. And he’s considerate of your preferences—preferably the things you enjoy most in bed. So, when you tell him you want it rough, albeit a little hesitant, he’s right on it. And he gives it to you good. Plowing you so hard, fucking you so good the bed starts to rock back and forth with the weight of his thrusts. The headboard bangs against the wall in tandem with your wanton screams and moans of more, the same sounds that keep him rooted deep inside you.

Nanami gives it to you almost too good—to the point that, by the time he’s done with you, leaving your cunt a creampied-mess, you’re shaking and your chest’s heaving for the breath he’s so greedily robbed you of.

With a fondness in his eyes, Nanami wipes your tear-stained cheek with his thumb. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You nod, attempting to ease the trembling of your lips—to no avail, considering every part of your body is quivering at this point. Your head turns and you look away in embarrassment—you can’t possibly be the one in such a state after asking him to be rough with you.

Nanami smiles at this and places his pointer under your chin, turning your head back in his direction with his finger. “Tell me you’re fine.”

You nod again, finding yourself unable to talk. “With words, my love. I need words.”

“I-i’m fine, Ken. Promise.”

“You’re still shaking,” his voice’s a whisper now, breath fanning past your neck from his proximity. “Tell me I wasn’t too rough, please.”

“Kento—it’s fine. You were perfect.” you reassure, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him down, planting a quick yet searing kiss to his lips. “I just feel a little gross that’s all.”

After those words Nanami, being the perfect husband that he is, hurries over to fix you a nice, warm bath. And, per your request, he steps in too, and you both end the night basking in each other’s warmth in soft light and vanilla scented bubbles.

────〃ଘ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 - I’m doin my best!

Satoru’s always up for a rough session with you. The way you sound, the way you feel, the way you try and fail to escape from his thrusts—he loves it all. Especially when you’re crying and telling him how good he’s making you feel in both broken sentences and inhales for breath, scratching your manicured nails down his back in a pleasurable burn while doing so. The sight of your fucked-out face alone is enough to have him ready to make you bear his child, and your pussy—oh, don’t even get him started.

Satoru would go to hell and back for a mere second inside your warm, tight cunt.

And, saying that, he might’ve just went a bit too far—too rough this time. Because, as he finishes up inside you, spurting his hot seed deep into your womb—he wasn’t kidding about making you have his child—you’re shaking more than usual.

His brows furrow in slight concern, and his big hands caress all over your body as if asking if you’re okay.

“Baby?”

“H-hm?”

His lips slide against the skin of your shoulders. “You good?”

You open your eyes and give him a look—closing them again because doing anything makes your body feel even more sore. “Yeah, i’m fine. Just shaking because you went too soft.”

Satoru, on the other hand, doesn’t catch your sarcasm, and he’s about ready to get hard again when you flash him another look and slap his hand away.

“Satoru.” you heave, now trying to pull him closer. “I can’t even move. Do something.”

At that, he’s hurrying over to the bathroom and getting a washcloth, dampening it and scurrying back to you. Satoru’s surprisingly intent on cleaning you, more focused on tidying you up than your pussy which is just a mere inch away from his face—surprisingly not him at all.

Afterwards he’s tending to your every need, assuring you that there’s no need to feel ‘gross’ every time you say so.

Satoru Gojo really tries his best with aftercare.

────〃ଘ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 - ‘Kay, on it!

Well, Toji is nearly almost always rough with you in bed. There’s just something about it that he can’t get out of his system. And he even feels like sometimes his body’s really doing it out of habit—maybe even instinctively.

But, perhaps it may not have been that same instinct that drove him this particular time—and with the way you’re quivering more than usual, Toji thinks so too.

Then again, he just can’t stop himself from being too rough on you when you look so helplessly up at him when he’s plowing your lil’ pussy, and especially not when your moans fuel him on so much to the point where he has to hold you down so you don’t try and squirm away from his ruthless thrusts.

Wiping your cheek with the back of your hand, you hiccup. Toji raises an eyebrow as he gazes down at you, wondering what he should do—you’ve never shook this much.

And he would be concerned but, there’s a sadistic part of him that’s secretly enjoying the sight knowing he’s the one to have you like this.

“T-toji.”

“Hm? Yeah, doll?”

“Can you get me some water, please?”

Before you can even blink he’s back with a refrigerated bottle of water, cold just to your liking. You smile, thanking him and gulping down the liquid, placing a kiss of gratitude to his lips afterwards.

“Toji..”

“Yes?”

“Can you, uhm, clean me..?”

A smile finds it way to his lips. Toji finds it cute how you’re hesitant to ask him such a question.

After some minutes he’s back with a damp cloth to wipe you with, though that’s not all. He’s carrying you bridal style to a warm bath waiting just for you, placing you in carefully as if you’re made of porcelain.

You kiss him again, stroking his forearm lovingly.

“Can you order us some takeout too?”

“On it.”

────〃ଘ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 - uh, where do i start?

Initially, Choso’s very nervous about going rough with you. His palms are sweaty, his eyebrows are furrowed together in a tight knit and he’s asking if you really want him to. He simply wants to make sure that you’re not acting on impulse—because, as soft as he may seem, he can really give it to you.

And he does—hard. Albeit, maybe too hard. He’s never gone so rough to the point where you shook after sex, and that was Choso’s first worry.

He expected you to at least calm down after a bit of time but your body kept continuously quivering.

That’s when Choso begins to scold himself. Maybe if he wasn’t so addicted to your body, your pussy, the noises he discovers you make when he’s harsh with you, then maybe you’d be alright.

But there was no denying that he was hooked on everything about you.

“Cho..think i need a massage.” you groan, falling back onto the bed after a failed attempt at getting up. “my back’s so sore.”

“I-i’m sorry, baby, I—“

You cut him off with a kiss; one that diminishes his every worry and gives him reassurance. “It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

Nodding, you turn around onto your stomach, hissing at the pain in your limbs—he had really stretched you to your limit tonight. “Yeah, just, massage please.”

With a hum of acknowledgment, Choso begins to rub your back, his big hands working at the knots in your shoulders, and he smiles with every sigh of relief that leaves your lips.

By the time he’s done, you’re just about ready to have him fuck you again with the way that he’s touching you so sensually—but the gross, sticky feeling between your legs cancels out that thought.

But a pleased sigh leaves your lips—you have the perfect boyfriend and idea to get rid of that.

“Cho, baby, let’s shower.”