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your-averagewriter · 11 months ago

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“Hearts for a sweetheart.”

Summary: Bumping into a sweet chocolatier evolves into something even sweeter (Timothée Chalamet!Willy Wonka x fem!reader)

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: Kissing, swearing (once I think).

Walking along the street, I’m interrupted by a sea of cheers as a man in an elaborate get-up passes around chocolates and sweets with a strong smile. As he walks through the crowd, people push forward, reaching for the chocolates forcing me forward, almost causing me to fall to the ground.

After nearly tripping over from the force of the crowd, I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to look at the person, steadying myself.

“Are you alright, miss?” The extravagant man asks.

Looking over him I can’t help but smile a little at his top hat and jacket, finding it endearing combined with his gentle nature.

“I’m okay.” I say as he helps me stabilise myself.

“Would you like a chocolate?” He asks with a new kind of smile, a toothy grin as he extends his arm, a tray of chocolates decorating the plate.

“Thank you but I can’t afford your fancy chocolates.” I deny, looking down a little ashamed as the crowds of people still surround us although they’ve quietened down a bit now.

“They’re free. No price for you, or anyone.” He pauses after saying ‘you’, seemingly forgetting the rest of his sentence.

“Really?” He nods and I reach to take one gently. “Thank you, mister…” I pause, not knowing his name.

“Mr Wonka, chocolatier.” He grins as he tips his hat towards me with a smile.

“Thank you Mr Wonka, the chocolatier.” I smile before seeing him disappear back into the crowds.

I only see him a couple more times as he looks back at me with a smile plastered on his face, his top hat sticking out above the crowds making me chuckle before putting the small chocolate into my mouth, resting it delicately on my tongue.

Closing my mouth, I start to chew the chocolate, truly surprised by the delicious treat. It’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. I try to savour it but it’s gone too soon, making me wish it would last forever.

Mr Wonka, a name I would not soon forget, in fact I couldn’t stop thinking about the man: his chocolates, his fashion and most of all his endearing, sweet nature. Walking through the streets, making my way home I ponder whether I would see him again or how. He must have a shop or a stall or something similar, maybe with the other chocolate stores? It doesn’t seem like he’d fit in with those pretentious sellers who seem to have no love for the art of food, let alone chocolate.

After a couple of weeks I had saved up some coins, not enough to get me more than one chocolate I doubt, but it'd be worth it both for the delicious chocolate and to see him again. With my coins in my pocket, I wander through the town centre, keeping my eyes out for the chocolatier but I don’t spot him.

Making it to the palace of chocolate stores I begin to feel the cold nipping at my skin, regretting not bringing my jacket. I walk through the doors, feeling very fancy as I do so, looking at the patterned floors and incredible glass dome roof.

Feeling a slight shiver I hurry along, looking to the stores and suddenly seeing a new store: Wonka. Upon seeing the name I make my way towards the store, taking in the beautiful design and calligraphy.

Walking in I’m instantly taken aback by the extraordinary interior, colourful candy delights disguised as nature causing me to gasp. Frozen, I stand in the door probably looking quite shocked as after a few seconds I feel a tap on my shoulder causing me to turn around, eyes going a little wide at the slight shock.

“Hello miss.” I turn around to see Mr Wonka smiling. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to see you again.”

“You remember me?” I ask, tilting my head slightly confused.

“Of course I do, I only regret that I didn’t ask your name last time we met.”

“(y/n), Mr Wonka.”

“Ah, call me Willy, last names are too formal for me.” He chuckles and I nod before looking around.

“Your store is incredible.” I say, looking around awe-struck.

“Why thank you, would you like a tour?”

“You’ve probably got more important things to do…” I say quietly with a soft smile.

“Nonsense! What could be more important than showing a woman as lovely as yourself around?” He asks with a charming smile. “Now, what kind of chocolate do you like?”

I think about it for a second, realising how long it’s been since I’ve had chocolate, excluding the last time I bumped into Willy. “The normal kind of chocolate?” I say, unsure.

“Normal kind?” He raises an eyebrow playfully. “Milk chocolate?” I nod.

“I think so, the chocolate you gave me last time was delicious, the best I’ve ever tasted.” I smile.

“Thank you, that means more than you realise.” He says softly, a tone of sincerity. “I’ll make you something special.” He grins. “Do you want to look around for a minute? I won’t keep you waiting too long.” He smiles, I nod before he seems to disappear before I even realise.

I walk towards the river watching as the boat goes round and round, the mechanisms seem incredible. Crouching down by the river I reach for a flower, inspecting the treat before taking a tentative bite from the petal. I let out a sigh, the treat tasting even better than I thought it would. Standing back up I take the flower with me, nibbling on the petals as I walk around the store, in awe at all the beautiful decorations.

A few seconds later, Willy pops up from out of nowhere, startling me slightly but with a small box in his hand.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He offers a small smile. He removes the lid from the box revealing a set of three chocolate hearts with delicate piping on top.

“Wow, these are beautiful.” I say, staring at the artwork.

“Hearts for a sweetheart,” He grins, flustering me a little.

“Thank you… How much do these cost?” I ask, trying not to be awkward but failing.

“Nothing, well except that I get to see your reaction, I think you’ll like them. I based them off of the chocolate you had a couple of weeks ago but made them better.”

“Are you sure? I have some coins.” I reach into my pocket, pulling out some coins but fumbling them leading multiple to fall to the ground. “Shit, sorry…” I say quietly before crouching down and reaching for the coins.

Willy does the same helping me pick up the coins as his hand accidentally brushes against mine. We both look up at each other before I look away embarrassed. He holds my hand, turning it over and placing the coins in my hand before folding my hand, covering the coins. He brings my hand up to his face, pressing his lips against my wrist with a small smile.

“Thank you…”

“Don’t worry about it.” He says as we both stand up again, I slide my coins back into my pocket.

He offers me the box and I take one of the three heart chocolates and place it in my mouth.

“Oh my god, you’re a genius.” I sigh, enjoying the chocolate. “These are incredible.”

“Thank you.” He grins, a proud expression on his face. “Would you like anything else? A buttercup? Cotton candy cloud? Cherries? Gummy bears?” He shoots off options one after the other at a quick speed.

“What would you recommend?” I ask, tentatively.

“Please follow me.” He smiles, leading me around the store to a patch of flowers. Crouching down, he plucks a few flowers, matching them by colour and tying them to make a chocolate bouquet before passing it to me.

“It’s beautiful.” I smile. He pulls out one more flower and tucks it behind my ear.

“Don’t worry, that’s a real flower.” He reassures me with a soft smile.

“Thank you.” I say softly.

“They’re chocolate, one’s white, dark and the other milk so you can work out what you like.” He says gently arranging the flowers. “Then you can come back and I can make you some more.” He chuckles. “The more information you can give me, the better the chocolate will taste!”

“Thank you, Willy, but I should get going now, I didn’t realise it had gotten so dark…” I say quietly as I look outside.

“Time flies when you’re having fun.” He shrugs as we walk towards the door and I start to feel the cold breeze against my skin. “Are you cold?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.

“A little, I should’ve brought my jacket.” I dismiss with a small smile. “I’ll see you around, Willy.” I say, stepping out of the door and walking away.

About a second later, I hear him speak again. “(y/n) wait!” He says and I turn around as he walks towards me, pulling off his long magenta jacket and sliding over my shoulder.

“Now you’ll get cold.” I chuckle, pulling the coat around me a little tighter.

“I’m okay, I was getting a bit warm anyway.” He smiles before looking behind me into the night. “Can I walk you home?” He asks, sweetly.

“You want to walk me home? I don’t live very close to your store…”

“Even more reason for me to walk with you.”

“Okay, if you’d like to, I won't stop you.” I smile brightly as he walks next to me.

“You know, you look really beautiful when you smile.” He says which only makes me smile more.

“Stop.” I chuckle.

“But it’s true.” He smiles. “You’re truly the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.” He says in a gentle but more serious tone.

“Thank you.” I whisper looking up to him before resting my head on his shoulder as we walk. “You’re really an incredible guy.”

“Ah, I just make chocolate.” He chuckles.

“Really good chocolate.” I smile. “And you make it look really pretty and your shop is incredible. I’ll have to come by more often.”

“I’d like that.” He pauses “May I hold your hand?” He asks gently after a short pause and I reach my hand out to his

Once we reach my home, I turn around to face him.

“This is me.” I smile. “I’m sorry you had to walk so far.”

“It was worth it.” He brings my hand to his face, pressing his lips against my hand again.

“Here, let me get your coat.” I say, beginning to slide the coat off of my shoulders but he stops me.

“Keep it, it gives you a reason to come back and see me again.” He says with a small smirk.

“Sneaky, very sneaky.” I chuckle, letting the jacket rest on my shoulders. “Get home safe.” I smile, as he begins to walk away.

It takes me a few seconds to fight my thoughts off before I call for him.

“Willy?” He turns around to face me, standing about eight steps away.

I walk quickly towards him, pressing my lips against his briefly before pulling away. “I’ll see you in a few days.” I whisper with a soft smile.

“You’re not gonna see me for a few days after pulling that stunt?” He asks with a playful expression causing me to chuckle and nod. “Well, I look forward to seeing you again.” He smiles brightly.

“I won’t keep you waiting too long.” I smile before going inside my house, shutting the door after he walks out of sight. I let out a breath as I have to fight a smile, excited to see the chocolatier again.

AN: I love this movie with my whole heart!

Hope you enjoyed reading!

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murdrdocs · 2 months ago

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darwinism

murdrtober oct 1. luke castellan description. you've always believed in survival of the fittest. but when things change about your nature and you're given extraordinary abilities, you take matters into your own hands. aka jennifer's body au

includes. SMUT 18+, size kink, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampies DARK CONTENT; murder, succubi, unreliable narrator, southern coded reader (hating yankees and all), gore, gaslighting, god complex, bitchy and bratty reader

wc. 6666k

a/n: welcome to kinktober. hopefully you like it

There’s so much you can feel.

The cold summer air against your face and bare legs, wind whipping against your skin. The dull ache in your bones, a feeling similar to growing pains, steadily subsiding minute by minute. It pairs well with the deep, internal fire settled in your stomach, so hot that you feel like you’re fucking burning. You should be cold. You can’t even remember what it feels like to be cold. You can’t remember anything before this moment as you exist in a comatose state with tunnel vision and selective hearing accompanying you like old friends.

There’s a substance coating nearly every inch of visible skin. It pulls your skin taut. It feels like dirt, but it’s so dark out that it could be anything.

It smells metallic.

Then there’s so much you can’t feel. Your toes. Your fingers. The ground beneath your feet. Your intuition. Empathy.

You feel numb. Yet, you feel so alive. It’s addicting.

You continue to march towards the unknown, existing between two planes: one full of something that prickles under your skin, filled with eternal screams and pleads to be spared. The other full of the sun on your skin, hands clasped together to exert some of the giddiness, sore cheeks and even sorer bellies from laughter.

You wobble on your feet as they meet asphalt, moving on autopilot the entire time. You don’t need to think about where you are. You knew these roads by age ten, and drove them by age fifteen. These roads are your home.

They’re usually deserted at this hour, which is why you’re surprised by the sound of a car driving beside you. It goes slow, slow, and slower until it comes to a stop a few feet ahead of you, no more than twenty.

Before you even make it to the vehicle, the driver's side door opens. You don’t see who comes out, but you see a figure. It comes towards you, stopping just off to your side. You don’t look at him, staring straight ahead.

“Hey…” they say, their voice deep, a gentle timber. You turn your head, blinking twice until you can see the stranger as clearly as possible.

A boy, taller than you, with dark hair, and a strong jaw. You tilt your head, taking in everything that you can.

It doesn’t occur to you that you haven’t spoken to him yet until he raises his eyebrows, waving his hand in front of your face.

“Hey, what happened? Are you in shock?”

His eyes scan down your body.

“Shit,” he swears under his breath as he grabs your hands in his. For the first time, you can clearly see just how messy you are. The light from his car illuminates the deep color that coats your skin, the shadows beneath your fingernails. “We gotta get you to the hospital.”

Your hand wraps around his wrist in a quick jerk. You narrow your eyes, uncaring of the force you have behind the way you grab his wrist. “No,” you say.

“No? No hospitals?” He seems shocked at first, but there’s a bit of relief in his eyes as if he’s thankful that you can, in fact, speak.

You don’t say anything else after that.

The boy nods. “Okay. C’mon then.”

He pulls you towards his car by the hand you have around his wrist. He opens the passenger door for you, sets you in the vehicle, and doesn’t leave until he’s leaned over and snapped your seatbelt into place.

You notice how good he smells. If he notices the way you lean in to get a better whiff, he doesn’t mention it.

You are unsure of how much time has passed, but you come to when his car rolls into the driveway of a house you’ve never seen before. It’s new development, obviously. Everything about this neighborhood is too clean, too crisp. You feel out of place here. You wonder if he feels out of place in your town.

“C’mon,” he says, opening the door for you. He leads you up the stairs to his house with a small hand on your back and a reassurance that the two of you will be alone, for his mom is at work.

“Night shift,” he laughs a bit, the pathetic sound dying when you don’t return it. Have you ever known what it is like to laugh? You don’t think you could make the sound right now.

He leads you to the kitchen and tells you to sit on a cushioned barstool at the island. You do as told, but when he tells you to stay still since he’ll be back, you stand up as soon as he leaves.

There’s an unsatiated craving within you, a taste in your molars that’s both completely foreign and as familiar as your own face. The craving controls you, pushing your feet towards the fridge, holding your limbs up and contorting your fingers into a claw as you rifle through the cold contents.

You don’t know exactly what you’re craving until you have a slab of packaged raw meat in your hands.

You waste no time in dropping to your knees and tearing the plastic film off the styrofoam flat. Your fingers dig into the meat and you sigh at the feeling. You wish it were alive. Pulsing around your fingers, warm blood oozing through the punctures, pieces getting stuck beneath your manicured nails.

Closer and closer the slab reaches for your mouth, your teeth bared, your eyes lidded.

“My mom was saving that.”

You turn around, keeping your nails dug into the cold meat. You tilt your head, staring up at a boy. It takes you a second to remember his face, to remember anything past this moment. It’s the wavering smile he gives that reminds you.

He smiles like everything is fine. Like you aren’t crouched in front of cold lighting, covered in blood, ready to devour a piece of raw meat.

At first, you think he isn’t scared. You consider the option that he has seen more shit from whatever big city he’s from, and this small-town nonsense is nothing to him. But then you see the way the first-aid kid he holds in his hand shakes. You think you can distantly hear the fast thrum of his heart. You watch the way he licks his lips as his downturned eyes widen slightly.

You let the meat fall onto the floor, ignoring the sound it makes as it hits the linoleum.

He watches you take one slow step after the other until you stand right in front of him.

Staring up at him, you get your first real look. He’s illuminated now by a combination of lighting from the refrigerator, stove, and the streetlight peeking through the window, and you notice that he really is pretty. And he really does smell good.

This time, you make a show of sniffing him, drawing him in with a hand on either of his cheeks. You press the tip of your nose against his neck and drag it up towards his jaw, taking a dramatic inhale the entire time. His Adam’s apple bobs and you can audibly hear him gulp.

“Are you scared of me?” you ask him, speaking directly in his ear.

You don’t expect his hand to find your waist, but it does, nothing but a light touch at the denim waistband of your skirt.

He takes a second to respond. He breathes, a meticulous inhale and exhale. He swallows. He shakes his head just a bit.

“No. I’m not. You just need help.”

A push and his back hits the wall.

Wide eyes watch you back out through the back door.

You grin the entire time.

“Have the lights in here always been this bright?” You press your fingers into your temples and screw your eyes shut, thankful for the brief reprieve.

“Most people have said it’s too dark in here. We don’t even have fluorescents.”

You peak one eye open, fixing it directly onto Clarisse. She refuses to meet your eye, instead continuing to wipe down an already spotless counter. You open your other eye, cocking your hip to the side and pouting.

“What’s got your panties in such a twist?”

She finally stops, throwing the towel down onto the counter. She stares at you, her face fixed into one you easily recognize as annoyance. Clarisse wears annoyance the way most people wear general happiness.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Clarisse tucks a loose string of curls behind her ear. “You fucking left me last night. I was worried about you. And you just went home without at least telling me if you were okay or something.”

You roll your eyes. Really, she’s making a big deal out of nothing.

“I’m fine, Clarisse. See?” You throw your arms out, spinning around in a circle for Clarisse to freely analyze you. You know there’s not a single scar, not a single spec of blood lingering on your body. You look as pure as a virgin even though evil lurks beneath your skin, unknown to anyone other than yourself. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

You can see Clarisse acquiesce. She still looks pissed, but that’s her resting face. She picks the towel back up and continues to wipe down the counter.

“What happened to you anyway?”

“Dunno. I kinda blacked out and came to when I got home.”

“You walked?”

Mostly…

“Yeah. My feet are killing me.” Lie. You’ve never felt better.

Clarisse shakes her head but whatever she has to say, she doesn’t say it.

The bell above the door jingles.

“Out of the way, there’s a customer.”

You slink off to the back of the bakery, sitting in a pulled-out chair beside the window.

“Oh … are y'all open?”

The same stranger from last night stands at the door, staring straight at Clarisse. Today, he’s joined by a little girl at his side.

You can see something not customer-friendly brew behind Clarisse’s eyes, daring to climb down to her mouth and spit itself at him. But she pulls her mouth into a line and nods. Maybe it’s for the little girl’s sake.

“We’re open.”

The stranger walks to the counter, the girl following his footsteps. Clarisse sends you a look over his shoulder. You can read it perfectly, even dulled down and unaccompanied by words.

Why would he ask if we were open when the ‘open’ sign is on and the hours are posted?

You watch his back the entire time, freely listening in on their conversation. He tells Clarisse that he has a pickup under Castellan. Clarisse leaves and goes to the back, leaving the boy to tell the girl that no, he isn’t buying her a cookie. She gets fed up, asks for the keys, and then walks off to the car.

You sit there, staring at your nails, admiring how healthy and strong they look, when he turns around.

“Oh,” he says, “Hey.”

“Hi…?”

The stranger stands straighter. He stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“It’s me … from last night …. Remember?”

You squint, tilting your head as if you’re thinking.

Luke continues. “I gave you a ride back to my house. You were covered in blood. You looked like you had gotten beat up or shot or something.”

“Why would I have been covered in blood?”

The stranger shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t get a chance to ask questions before you were tripping out of the door. You tried to eat my mom's ribeye.”

You hum unconvincingly. “Doesn’t sound like me. I don’t even eat red meat.”

The stranger's mouth drops open, his eyes narrowing as he looks around the bakery. He appears to be looking for something, maybe an answer to whatever question that is brewing behind his head. It’s subtle, but you can tell you’re getting under his skin. It’s fun to see how frazzled he’s getting over this. He starts stuttering, barely getting two words out before he tries again.

You decide to put him out of his misery. “Look …?” you pause, waiting for a name.

“Luke,” he says.

“Luke,” you grin, enjoying the way the syllables feel in your mouth. “I don’t remember any of this. Sorry.” The apology is completely insincere from you. You sound patronizing like you’re talking down to a little kid.

Before Luke can get another word in, Clarisse is back. She places his order on the counter, clicks a few buttons on the register, and presents his total.

You use the time to sneak out, waving to Clarisse as you leave. You pass by the little girl as you leave. She sits in the same seat you sat in the night before. She watches you leave, her eyes calculating like she’s trying to figure something out.

You really need a meal.

Screams as flesh tears. Blood spurting out of puncture wounds. It’s warm on your tongue as it slides down your throat, heating you up from the inside out.

He tastes better than the last one. It didn’t occur to you that they would have different flavors, notes that hit different spots of your tongue and molars. You hum around the flavor of him. You wonder what the next one will taste like.

“You okay?”

Luke watches your body tense and then loosen. He hears you swear under your breath as if the sound of his voice is nothing but a burden to you.

You turn around to face him and Luke could’ve predicted the face you make. He did predict it, actually. The pout on your lips, the slight squint in your eyes, the tilt of your head. You even place your hands over your hips and cock them out.

“Are you stalking me or something?”

Luke would be offended, but he’s come to learn things about you now. He knows you like to do that, throw a half-assed assumption toward whoever is on the other side of your wrath. Luke thinks you do it to deflect from yourself, but it hasn’t worked on him yet. He’s becoming more and more intrigued by you as the days go by.

“It’s a small town, isn’t it?”

You shrug and turn back around to the pump, watching the gas meter count further up.

Luke doesn’t let it go. He clicks the 93-octane level and sticks the nozzle into the fuel tank. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t usually answer dumb questions.”

Luke makes a sound akin to a chuckle, just without much of the humor behind it.

“Just wondering because you’re looking a little sick. You’re paler than you were the last time I saw you. Bags under your eyes … they’re beginning to sink in, by the way. The same goes for your cheeks. If I didn’t know better, I would think you were sick. Maybe something bad.”

The handle of the nozzle clicks and you take it out of your car, sticking it back into the pump. You could leave right now, but you take the time to turn around and look at him.

“Do you know better?”

Luke shrugs. He doesn’t mind this little game of cat and mouse he’s playing with you. It’s much better than the mundane questions he’s had to answer since coming here.

Where are you from? No, where are you really from?

Are you going to the technical school in the city? No? What about state?

What church do you go to?

You haven’t asked a single one of those questions. Granted, he’s only spoken to you thrice, and once was when you were practically comatose. But still, he’ll take it.

The pump clicks behind him and Luke takes that as his cue.

“I don’t know,” he tells you, a grin spreading across his face. “You tell me.”

You’ve adjusted pretty well to your new life. The hours are odd, leaving you wide awake at night with the metallic taste of blood still stuck in your molars. Come morning you’re exhausted, barely able to stand up straight.

Clarisse leaves you messages on the landline. Calling you a recluse, wondering when you two were going to hang out again in the least clingy, most nonchalant way she can manage. She won’t say it outright, but you can tell she’s worried about you. You don’t understand why.

You’re the healthiest you’ve ever been. Your skin shines like it did when you were younger. You haven’t had any aches in your body for the longest. As the weather cools down, everyone prepares themselves for whatever illness will sweep through the air this time, but you don’t have to. Even when your mom had the flu and you nursed her back to health, you didn’t get sick.

You’re immune. You’re a god, and no one else seems to see it.

To everyone else, you’re different, and not in a good way. They don’t see what you’ve been doing for this town, how you’ve been cleansing it one body at a time. If guilt tries to eat away at you, you just remind yourself that you’re doing good with the cards that you’ve been dealt.

You didn’t ask for this, but you don’t hate it.

When you open your front door, Luke Castellan is standing on your porch, his hand raised towards your doorbell as if he were about to press it.

You aren’t shocked to see him. You’ve been getting too lucky recently, able to go out for hours at a time without running into someone from the Castellan family. Either Luke, his sister with her small group of friends, a kid you used to babysit among them, or Luke’s mom, who smiles at you like you have a thing with her son.

You expected to run into him at least once today. There was a feeling, like the hairs on the back of your neck were preparing to stand up, warning you that fate or God or whatever is out there was trying to mess with you. Putting him in front of your face, taunting you with something so annoying. You don’t know why you don’t get it over with already, seduce him with the ease that you have seduced everyone else. His smell has been haunting you since that first night anyway. You want it, there’s no point in pretending that you don’t.

You’ll do it today. Yes, right now.

It’s still day out, but the sun will be setting soon. Most people are still working, your mom included, and your neighbors shouldn’t be coming home anytime soon. Just to be safe, you’ll take him out back into the woods, towards the treehouse Clarisse’s dad built for you both when you were 10, just six months before he left.

Clarisse is still pissed at you so it’s unlikely that she’ll be there.

You try to scratch the scowl off of your face, propping your hip into the doorframe and trying to look somewhat inviting.

“Hi,” you say.

Luke doesn’t waste any time returning your greeting. “I know it was you.”

God, it’s so hard not to fall into the same routine as usual. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do.” He takes a step closer and stares down at you. You’ve never realized how tall he is. You never realized how buff he is, either. He’s wearing a dark short-sleeved shirt. It fits well over his chest and biceps, drawing your attention there as he towers over you.

“Do you wanna know how I know?”

Your eyebrows lift, waiting for him to continue.

“Clarisse told me everything. How you ditched her at a house party just outside of town to hang out with a guy. Some guy you had a big crush on when you were younger, right?” He’s right, but you try not to let it show. He continues, “My little sister helped me look some things up, all of your symptoms starting with the comatose state you were in that first night. Then the raw meat cravings, the mood boosts and drops. At first we thought it was drugs. Not unusual for people in small towns like these.

“Until Annabeth talked to one of her friends, and from word-to-mouth we found out that the guy you hung out with had a friend with him, didn’t he? He got away and he didn’t stop. He ran his mouth, told a few people what they did to you, and then tried to do what they did to you to another girl. So you killed him.”

You suck in a breath, ignoring the twitch in your fingers, the goosebumps on your arms. “What are you getting at? What am I, Luke?”

You expect to hear the words for him. A name that you thought was simply a myth, nothing but supernatural folklore until it happened to you.

“You’re a god.” The way he says it, his face splitting into a grin, a genuine one. Like he’s amazed by you. Like you’re his idol, someone he’s looked up to since a young age.

You’ve never felt so seen, so understood. It’s only natural that you press your lips to his.

Up until now, you’ve lived off of fear. You liked seeing their eyes widen when they realized what you were and what you were going to do to them. You liked to press your hand to their chests and feel the fast thrum of their hearts beneath your palm.

You don’t need that with him.

You like the way Luke’s eyes get heavy, staring down at you between small breaks in moving your lips together. You like how his heart beats fast, but not with fear, beneath your hand when you slide it up his shirt.

He’s so toned beneath your fingers. You bet he’s beautiful beneath this.

“Let’s go outside,” you urge because that’s where you’ve always done it. Outside with nothing but nature to bear witness to the atrocities you commit. You’re more comfortable outside. Your newly inhuman nature seems to fit better in the forest, digging your nails into the dirt, accumulating scratches and scrapes that heal as soon as they’re there. You didn’t have to clean up anything when you were outside, leaving the bodies there to be found by whatever search party was launched this time.

It doesn’t occur to you that you don’t need to do any of this with Luke until he shakes his head, holding your cheeks between two large palms. “No. Upstairs. In your bed.”

You hesitate, taking a moment to figure out which road you want to go down. Will Luke be just like the others? Left as nothing but a body to be found, his family struggling to identify him when so many of his features are skewed and missing? Or could Luke be something different?

He’s new, already unlike the same boys you’ve spent your entire life knowing. He hasn’t hit on you while oozing unwanted vulgarity.

You fist the bottom of Luke’s shirt in one hand and pull him up the stairs. You trip in your hurry and Luke attempts to catch you, giggling under his breath as he holds your hips the rest of the way.

You don’t bother shutting the door when you reach your room. You just turn around, wrap your hands around Luke’s neck, and pull him down to meet your lips. He’s still so much taller than you, even when he’s leaning down.

Your bodies end up curling into each other—chest to chest, your back arched as Luke’s curves. He holds you close with an arm slung around the middle of your back and a hand on the back of your head.

You’ve never been kissed like this, like the person kissing you is doing it for you, and not for themselves. Luke kisses like he means it, like he wants you, and he doesn’t just want you to want him. He doesn’t kiss in that same egotistical way that you’ve been kissed before. Boys who kissed like they thought they were good kissers.

Luke kisses romantically.

He kisses in a way that makes you want this forever.

He’s romantic, but he’s not soft. He doesn’t treat you like you’re going to break. He digs his fingers into the back of your head, pulling your mouth right onto his. Your tongues search for the others, missing each other every so often; poking into the corners of your mouths, sliding over teeth.

You’re fisting his shirt with such intensity that you fear you’ll break it. Your nails dig into the soft fabric, threatening to tear it into pieces. Luke pulls away from you for a moment, heavy breaths coming from between his parted lips. His tongue flicks out over his bottom lip—the flushed color matching the one on his cheeks—and nods his head.

“Go ahead. Do it.”

You pull his shirt apart into two with one satisfying rip. Luke throws it off the rest of the way, and he’s left shirtless standing in front of you.

He’s unnecessarily buff. Unnecessarily gorgeous standing before you. He must have Greek roots in his blood, there’s no way someone this pretty wouldn’t.

You press your hands into his chest and glide your palms down the ripples of muscle. You let your hand wander further down until you’re cupping the print of his dick, already taking shape beneath the sturdy denim of his jeans. His eyes flutter closed and his frame starts to slump forward a bit. You know you can get more of a reaction out of him with a little more work.

His belt buckle clinks as you undo it, the leather audibly shuffles against itself and the denim as you tug it out of the loops. You throw it to the ground with his torn shirt, a piece of fabric you briefly mourn. You hope he has shirts that fit him even half as well as that one did. But if he does, the fate will likely be the same.

You glance down at the opening you’ve created. You can see the print of Luke’s dick pressing into his checkered briefs, straining against the fabric. You think you can see a dark mark made at the end of him, but you aren’t sure.

You don’t focus on any of that when you wrap your hand around the length of him. Luke sighs at the first feeling of contact, even though there’s a layer between. You sigh at the feeling, too, a fire ignited by the warmth in your hand.

Luke lets you palm him for a short while. His forehead resting against yours, his hand cupping the back of your neck, his frame somehow equal parts lax and rigid as it stands before you.

Just when you go to give him—and yourself—more, Luke stops you. He wraps his free hand around your wrist before you can dig your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, leaving your nails dumbly scratching into the sparse hairs that make up his happy trail.

“Luke?” you ask, mentally begging that he won’t ask you to stop. You can feel that doing this with him will be different, and you want to get that far. You want to give it a shot, introduce something new to your system before you continue down a road you’ll never be able to come back from. Maybe, in some way, Luke can provide a way out for you. Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

He breathes deeply, his nostrils moving with the movement. It takes him a moment to look at you, to open his eyes as they’ve been shut ever since you first touched him. But when he does, he just stares at you, dark eyes darker than they were before, deep eyelashes perfectly framing his gaze.

“I’m okay. Just … lemme be the one to do it first, alright?”

His hands spread over your waist, fingers hooking into the belt loops of your skirt. He steers you back towards your bed, letting you sit down on your own without any intervention. You stare up at him, watching him watch you. You notice the soft hunger in his eyes, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, the veins in his arms becoming more prominent as he cracks his knuckles.

For the first time in a while, you feel meek. Staring up at Luke with your hands in your lap, instinctively picking at the remains of dirt beneath your nails, waiting for him to do something, anything. But he just stands, posture straight, arms down by his sides. His eyes trail up your entire body, starting from the heart print socks on your teeth, all the way up to the way your hair sits on your head. Only when he’s gotten a thorough look does his eyes flicker to meet yours.

He smiles, a look that looks more insidious than it does comforting. To the average person, it would probably be alarming. To you it’s thrilling.

He sinks to the ground, knees hitting the floor. You watch the entire time.

He takes your socks off, placing them onto the floor, devoid of any particular order. His hands wrap around your ankles and glide up your legs until he reaches your kneecaps. With one hand over each, Luke waits. You think he’ll pull your legs apart, push your skirt up, and slip your panties off. Instead, he trails his touch up the top of your thighs until he reaches your waist.

“Lay back,” he tells you. You obey without a second thought.

Luke continues to undress you until you lay beneath him in nothing but your underwear. He tells you to move up the bed, and he follows you when you do. He sits between your spread legs, resting on his haunches in nothing but his boxer briefs. He just sits. The two of you just sit together and breathe.

It begins to feel meditative in a way, sitting in a silent room only full of the soft breaths that the two of you need to live. It’s like you’re living together in this brief moment. Like you’re alive together.

You initially expected to feel elevated upon the first touch with real intent that Luke gave you, and you do feel elevated, elated, even, but this moment doesn’t hold more influence than the moment the two of you had before.

Still, you’re grateful for Luke’s fingers moving toward your center. You make more room for him, even though it’s unnecessary, as his fingertips inch closer and closer toward your panties. He moves slowly, but not hesitantly. Instead, he’s savoring his time.

His fingertips reach beneath the waistband of your panties, he tugs them over your hip bones and down your thighs, delivering the same fate that the rest of your clothes had gotten before this. And as soon as you’re bare before him, he doesn’t waste any more time.

He brings his face level with your cunt and licks a long stripe as if he’s testing the taste, and then he devours you in a way that you’ve never experienced before. Luke pleasures you like it’s what he was made to do and he’s finally found his one true purpose.

He hooks his hands under your thighs and hoists your legs over his shoulders. He doesn’t just use his mouth, but the eternity of the bottom half of his face. He’s not afraid of getting messy, the tip of his perky nose and the protruding part of his chin getting involved in it as well. He doesn’t bother coming up for air much, but the couple of times that he does, you see just how much you glisten on his face.

You’re writhing around above him. It’s like you’re having an exorcism, your body contorting, your chest reaching for the sky, your voice cracking, and your throat graveling as you make sounds you’ve never made before, even while you were being turned.

You fist your hands into Luke’s curls with an intended force, but he doesn’t say anything. He groans, his eyebrows pushing together, but the look doesn’t appear to be one of pain. You feel his lips part around your cunt, you feel the gust of air he lets out against you, and then you notice the subtle shift of his hips into the mattress.

He’s getting off from just this.

You’ve never needed a guy more.

“Luke,” you try to get his attention, grabbing his locks and attempting to pull him up. He doesn’t budge. “Luke,” you try again, still to no avail.

“Luke. I want you in me,” you tell him between gasps and moans, trying desperately to pull yourself off of him. He does it for you, taking his lips away from your pussy to stare up at you.

He licks his lips clean without hesitance. “No.”

“No?” And suddenly he’s pissing you off once more.

Luke repeats himself. “No. Not yet. Not until I make you cum like this.”

And then he goes back to it without any further comment. He doesn’t leave room for arguing, no room for conversation. He just eats you out with more vigor, more determination.

He quickly gets what he wants and he sucks up every drop of it appreciatively.

Just after that, you get what you want.

Luke doesn’t say anything when you maneuver him to lie on his back. He doesn’t protest when you pull his boxers down to the middle of his thighs and then straddle his hips. He doesn’t suggest the use of a condom, he doesn’t tell you to slow down, he just lays back with one hand tucked under his head and the other resting on your hip.

He watches you guide yourself down onto his cock, held still with a firm hand from you. His jaw clenches and his nostrils flare at the first feeling of the tip of his dick spearheading the journey into you.

His eyes flicker between watching himself disappear into you and watching your face as you take it like a champ. There’s barely any hesitation from you, likely because you’ve been so eager to have this. You hadn’t necessarily thought about this much before, nothing but subconscious want that you refused to spare a thought on. But ever since you allowed room for those thoughts to exist, you’ve longed for just this very moment, the feeling of Luke filling you up with unexpected satisfaction.

Luke’s in you to the hilt for all of a second before you’re moving. Falling into a role you know well, you lift and sink your hips, grinding from deep in the pelvis whenever you can. Leadership comes to you naturally, there’s no second-guessing yourself in these movements. You know what to do, you know what Luke will like, and you know it well.

You keep your hands on his abdomen, feeling the breaths he takes beneath your capable hands, taking into account his muscles tensing when you clench around him.

You know it feels good for him, but you still ask, “Does that feel good, Luke?”

He lolls his head to the side and lazily watches you work. He doesn’t answer for a while, but you give him time, continuing to do exactly what you’re doing in the meantime. Eventually, he nods.

“Uh-huh.”

He sounds fucked out. A little dumb, too. It’s hot.

You speed up, decide not to waste any time finishing Luke off, and hopefully yourself too.

Luke’s hand ends up on your cunt, his thumb pressed into your clit, swirling circles in time with the speed of your hips.

It suddenly occurs to you that the two of you have conflicting interests. Luke wants to make you come, while you want to make him come. You’re sure deep down the two of you have the same goal, but the forefront of motivation differs. You’re not backing down, even if it’ll work in your favor. Selflessness possesses you for the first time in years and you pull Luke’s hand away, leaning forward and pressing your weight into it until his hand sticks to the bed. You don’t say anything, you just stare at him while you continue to ride him like your already-ended-life depends on it.

When Luke cums, he’s looking you right in the eye, allowing you to see every single thought as it flashes through his mind.

You can’t focus on it for too long, though, because you’re following suit directly after.

You’re twitching on top of him, your cunt spasming, your head thrown back, your abdomen tensing and relaxing.

This feeling is different.

It’s euphoric. It’s more than an orgasm, more than being stuffed full of Luke’s cum, plugged by his cock.

You feel fulfilled in a way you never have before. When you consumed the others, the satisfaction was superficial, never deep enough to complete you. With Luke, you feel complete. You want more.

You start rocking your hips back and forth.

“Woah.” Luke’s voice is rough, vibrating in his throat as it comes up to meet your ears. “Slow down,” he tells you, his hands on your hips. His grip isn’t as strong as it was earlier, but you still place your hands on top of his, fearing that he’ll make you stop.

You stare down at him, your eyebrows pinched together. You whine his name.

He nods, sucking in a sharp breath when you raise yourself up, just to lower back down. “I know, I know. Just … I’m gonna need a minute, alright? Here,” he sits up, beginning to tug you up. When you don’t cooperate, he lifts his eyebrows, a warning clearly right there on his face. You don’t want to, but you get off of him.

He flips you both over, hovering over your body for all of a second before he kisses down your torso.

“No, no, Luke, not again. ‘s not what I want. I want you.”

“And you’re getting me, aren’t you?” He cocks an eyebrow, tilting his head and giving you a look that dares you to test him. You really want to, but this fog in your head is keeping you submissive, keeping you at his mercy.

“Not in the ways that I want. You know what I mean, don't be an ass about it.”

He snickers but doesn’t change his course. “I promise you, baby, I’ll give you what you want. Just on my terms too, okay? We’re a team now, you got that?”

You stare down at him as your heart blooms in your chest with a feeling you’ve never felt before.

“Yeah. Okay.”

You’re a team.

There’s blood coating you, drying your skin, pulling it taut. You sit in the passenger seat of Luke’s jeep, much about this similar to the first night.

The freezing cold temperature both inside the car and out, the destruction done to your body and outfit, the carnage left behind for someone to find. But things are different about this, too. The hand you hold over the center console, the control you have over the music that plays, the fullness you feel, completely unrelated to the feeding you’ve had to partake in. It was the first in months, necessary for your survival, but no longer the main contributor. Not since you’ve been getting something completely different from Luke.

You’re addicted to him, constantly overindulging until he’s spent and you’re just entering that same territory. But he’s begun to expect it, your insatiable qualities as integral to your person as your favorite artist. Luke knows your quirks now. He knows what it means when you turn down the music, look over at him, and grin with a twinkle in your eyes.

He pulls over into an empty parking lot and lets you climb into the backseat while he walks around.

There’s nothing wrong with feeding twice in one night.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #murdrtober 2024 #icarus writes pjo #tw dark content #tw dark themes

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exorcxqsm · 2 months ago

Text

Only a fool would bargain with the leader of Onychinus

Word Count: 5,8k

tags - WARNINGS: mdni, reader isn’t the lnds!mc, explicit sexual content, first time sex (not virginity loss) alterations to the main story, dr/y humping, thigh riding, b/egging, f!receiving oral, p in v, unprotected sex, creampies, squirting, dirty talking, use of pet names (kitten, sweetie, baby), violence, mentions of injuries.

Notes:Some of you may have already read my fic, The Price of Desire, in which the reader’s evol is mentioned. If you have, you’ll notice that the evol is the same in this story; however, there is no connection between the two. The concept of a reader with this ability was too appealing for me to resist, and since it was briefly mentioned in the previous fic, I decided to explore it further in this one. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! All likes and reblogs are appreciated. :3

Going on missions for Sylus was nothing new to you by now. You had spent years by his side since he first found you, a wild creature desperate for survival. Sometimes, you could still recall how close you had come to killing each other back then. You had been hunted by nearly every illegal underground group, all seeking your evol, and while on the run, you stumbled upon him like a scared and feral animal.

You had instinctively tried to attack him on sight; it was all you knew how to do, having fought for your freedom for as long as you could remember. You were no stranger to the danger he represented—the bloodthirsty leader of Onychinus. If other groups sought you as a mere experiment for your power, you could only imagine what Onychinus would do if they got their hands on you.

The moment you realized the person you had fallen headfirst into was the white-haired menace himself, you had attempted to fight him with everything you had. Sylus, of course, dodged every single one of your attacks effortlessly, but he was merely toying with you, for he possessed something you were unaware of; he could not be killed.

You had always been feared for your lethal evol—one touch from your bare fingers could send someone halfway to the other world. You were an extraordinary weapon, yet Sylus was not deterred; he was intrigued, even enamored by you.

With his energy manipulation, it was impossible for you to harm him, particularly when he thrived on high levels of adrenaline and excitement.

So, even as you forced yourself to keep trying to touch him, desperate to end the chaos, he reveled in your fierce determination. He loved witnessing the fire in your eyes as you believed you could take him down. When he finally grew tired of your little game and decided to put an end to it, he was blindsided by a fact he had overlooked.

While he had learned nearly everything there was to know about your evol and your abilities, he did not realize one important thing; you were immune to his mist.

No matter how fiercely the red and black tendrils curled around you, the moment your flesh made contact with them, they vanished into thin air.

Sylus had nearly salivated when he realized the challenge you presented. It had been far too long since he had encountered someone so intriguing, and he was determined that you wouldn’t walk out of that valley without becoming his.

That’s how you found yourself in his group now. Unlike everyone else, Sylus had made a promise that night: if you went home with him willingly, he would never force you to use your abilities for his research or personal gain. He needed you to choose to be there if you were going to help him.

His condition was simple: think of aiding him, and in return, you would gain his protection, a life free from fear and the constant need to run for your freedom.

You had taken a significant risk when you decided to go with him, but the white-haired man kept his word. It took you months to contemplate helping him instead of merely enjoying the luxury of his lifestyle, but he was patient. In time, you became not only his most valuable asset but also his right hand. Whenever he was out of town for deals or missions, you handled matters back home on his behalf.

Deep down, back then you knew he wasn’t just a kind-hearted man simply looking to help a struggling girl off the street. What he truly sought to protect was your evol because he believed you would eventually come around to assist him when he needed it most. So when you finally did, it was no surprise to him. He had merely given you a subtle nod and handed you the first files.

Now, two years later, you stood beside him at one of the many auctions taking place in the N109 Zone. He was after a particularly important and valuable protocore—one he had pursued for years—and today presented his chance to possess it.

Being next to him not only amplified his chances of leaving unscathed without extensive negotiation—after all, who was crazy enough to challenge the leader of Onychinus and his lethal right-hand woman?—but it also made it easier for him to operate, as you inevitably drew attention and distraction from other bidders.

His hand curled possessively around your waist as he proudly showcased you to the crowd. The dress you wore was as red as his eyes, hugging your every curve and accentuating your figure. Your hair was styled in a simple updo, revealing your back to the admiring gazes around you.

The less fabric you wore, the more difficult it was for his mist to approach you, and that was one thing you clung to. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you—he had come to not only depend on you but to trust you as well. Still, you maintained a small resistance, a defiance that you weren’t ready to surrender, no matter how much it irritated him.

Your gloves were snugly in place, allowing you to interact with him without draining his energy, thus enabling you to warn others of the imminent danger your touch posed. One slip of fabric, and whoever you touched would be lost forever.

“Mr. Sylus, I didn’t think you’d make it tonight,” a distant voice interrupted your thoughts, drawing both of your attention. A young man addressed your boss, his tone a mix of surprise and formality.

“Not happy to see me?” Sylus replied, his voice smooth as silk and sweet as honey, the smugness evident in his expression as he arched a white brow at the man.

“Of course, sir! I’m sorry, sir. I just thought you’d be out of town—”

“Change of plans." Sylus muttered, cutting him off with a tight smile before guiding you forward, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back.

As you walked toward the room where his meeting would take place, you tilted your face up to catch a glimpse of his profile. “He’s right, you know,” you began, curiosity lacing your words. “Weren’t you supposed to return next Tuesday?”

Sylus’s smirk deepened at your question. “If I had known you’d be so disappointed by my early arrival, sweetie, I would have made sure to come back yesterday.”

You scoffed at his remark, subtly flexing your back to shake his arm off, but his grip only tightened, keeping you glued to his side. “Be good now. You know how important tonight is,” He leaned in closer, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine as it tickled your ear. “Don’t screw this up.”

You couldn’t shake the uneasiness that crawled up your spine from the subtle threat lacing his tone. Sylus had been under immense pressure lately, but you refused to let him take it out on you.

“Sylus.”

He let out an impatient huff as you halted him just outside the door of your final destination, but he turned his body to face you fully, his expression a mix of frustration and intensity.

“I’m not your enemy,” you asserted, holding his gaze with unwavering resolve. “Many people work for you, but aside from Luke and Kieran, no one stands by your side with the same loyalty I do. I know you’ve been struggling, but I’m the last person you want against you right now.”

“Oh, is that right, kitten?” His brows furrowed, drawing closer until your chests nearly touched. To an outsider, you might have appeared to be lovers, but the tension between you was palpable and lethal. “And why is that? Because you’re oh-so-dangerous?”

His provoking smirk ignited your anger, and while you couldn’t fathom what was going through his mind, you chose to avoid making a scene. Stepping away from him, you tried to regain your composure. “They’re waiting for us.”

Before you could take another step toward the door, you were abruptly lifted off the ground, hanging upside down over Sylus’s shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?” you whispered-yelled, frantically scanning for prying eyes. Your surprise deepened when, from the shadows, Luke and Kieran rushed toward you, effortlessly pulling you from Sylus’s grip. “What—”

“Take her to the car and wait for me,” Sylus commanded sharply, his tone clipped and leaving no room for negotiation. As you were carried away from him and the room, you felt a pang of frustration.

“Let me down!” you practically shouted as the twins put distance between you and the auction building.

“Sorry, ma’am, no can do.”

“Yeah, ma’am, we’re sorry, but no one bypasses the boss's orders!”

Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as the events unfolded, anger and frustration boiling within you at how Sylus had treated you. It was the first time since you started working for him that he had dismissed you so callously, and you couldn’t ignore the pang of hurt that coiled deep in your stomach.

You sat in the backseat of the car while the twins chatted and bantered in the front, oblivious to your turmoil. It felt surreal, as if they were living in a different world. Maybe you were overthinking it—after all, you hadn’t expected him to disregard you like that, especially during an auction so crucial to him. You were valuable to him, weren’t you? He needed you by his side, didn’t he?

Your thoughts spiraled until they were abruptly shattered by a loud bang. Before you could process the sound, part of the building in front of you exploded in a fiery eruption. Wait—was that the floor where the auction was being held? The very floor Sylus was on?

Without a second thought, you threw open the car door, sprinting toward the burning building despite the twins’ frantic shouts urging you to stop. Your mind was consumed by one thought: Sylus. He couldn’t be hurt. He couldn’t die. Foolish girl, not even his evol could save him from an explosion of that magnitude.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, sweat clung to your skin as you pushed your limits, charging up the stairs to the floor where you had been just forty minutes earlier. You stumbled multiple times, falling to your knees, but the thought of Sylus pushed you onward.

When you finally reached the floor, it was a scene of devastation. The area lay in ruins, engulfed in smoke and chaos, with scattered survivors struggling to breathe amidst the wreckage. You focused your eyes and ears, straining to find Sylus amidst the agonizing cries of others. Time blurred as you searched, exhaustion creeping in and threatening to overwhelm you.

Just when you thought you might pass out, you spotted it—silver locks, now dirty and disheveled, just a few feet away. Panic surged through you as you fell to your knees and crawled with the last remnants of strength you had left. When you finally reached him, your heart stopped. You had never seen Sylus so vulnerable, so exposed.

You reached out to touch his face, your irritation intensifying at the realization that you still had to keep your gloves on, unable to feel his soft, dirt-streaked skin. With the last remnants of your strength, you shook him gently, your voice coming out hoarse as you tried to call his name.

Slowly, his eyes peeled open, and you let out the breath you had been holding. Unfortunately, you had inhaled too much smoke, resulting in a violent cough that wracked your body.

Clutching your chest, you hunched over, trying to cough out the smoke while moving away from him. Just then, you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you down to him. You attempted to focus on his face, searching for any injuries, but your eyes were tearing up, and your vision was blurred from the smoke-filled atmosphere.

Just as you thought you might lose consciousness, his voice broke through, shaky and hoarse but still as sharp as a knife. “What are you doing in here, kitten?” His eyes were half-lidded, and he groaned as he struggled to sit up. “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me outside?”

You tried to help him rise, but his heavy body only dragged you down, sending you sprawling onto the floor. As he noticed your condition, his eyes sharpened with concern, and his features turned serious. He began removing his coat, which was now dirty and full of holes.

“Sylus—you need to get out of here,” you urged, trying to push him away as he attempted to cover you completely with his coat.

“Don’t talk right now, sweetie.” His movements were urgent, almost desperate, as he made sure no part of your upper body was exposed. Your hands were now firmly pinned to your torso beneath his coat. “And don’t fight me.”

His fingers came to your face, squeezing gently until your lips formed a pout and your attention was solely on him. “Stubborn little kitten,” he muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and affection.

Just before you slipped into unconsciousness, you felt the tendrils of his red-black mist enveloping you, pushing through your evol’s resistance and carrying you away from the chaos.

When you finally opened your eyes, it took a moment for your surroundings to come into focus. The unmistakable scent of Sylus’s mattress enveloped you, grounding you in reality. You were back at the mansion.

Your limbs felt heavy, and a dull ache throbbed in your head. Every part of your body screamed for you to stay in bed, to drift back into sleep and forget everything that had happened before you lost consciousness. But your mind was fixated on one thing: Sylus.

With a groan, you attempted to sit up, quickly glancing over your body. To your relief, you realized you were freshly cleaned and dressed in one of your nightgowns, with no significant injuries aside from a few scratches on your skin.

You took a moment to steady yourself, ensuring your vision wouldn’t fade to black before you attempted to walk across the room toward the door. Sylus’s office was just down the hallway, and as you stepped outside, you could faintly hear Luke and Kieran’s voices drifting from inside. You paused, heart pounding, and when you heard Sylus’s gruff tone, a wave of relief washed over you. He was okay.

After a brief moment, you knocked once before turning the doorknob and peeking through the small opening. Sylus’s gaze met yours immediately, and the twins turned to regard you with their rare smiles. It wasn’t often they dropped their masks, even in the mansion, but now their boyish features shone through. Their red hair was pulled back into matching messy ponytails, and a hint of blush colored their cheeks as they took in your appearance in the gown.

Sylus coughed discreetly, and the twins exchanged glances before standing up to give you two some privacy.

As they made their way to the door, Kieran paused to ruffle your hair playfully, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “You gave us a scare there, little crow.”

You regarded both twins with a small, apologetic smile before turning your full attention to the white-haired man seated behind his desk. He still wore his torn shirt, which left his muscular frame fully exposed. With a languid movement, he rolled his chair away from the desk and beckoned you with a finger.

Taking slow, deliberate steps toward him, you felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over you as his intense gaze roamed over your form. Despite the butterflies in your stomach, you approached and stood before him, his legs slightly apart, causing your knees to brush against the inside of his thighs as he looked up at you.

Your eyes fell to his toned chest, now marred with scratches and bruises—evidence the damage inflicted, perhaps a sign that he was running low on evol energy and unable to heal completely.

“Are you okay?” Your voice emerged as a barely audible whisper, still tinged with hoarseness. You clasped your hands behind your back, fidgeting awkwardly.

You weren’t quite sure what had come over you; you had never before found yourself in a situation where you needed to actively express your concern for Sylus until tonight, and you hoped he wouldn’t recall too much of what had transpired in that building.

“Worried, kitten?” he asked, a small smirk curling at the corners of his lips as his gaze swept over your body. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and touch you, yet he seemed equally torn, grappling with the worry that had gripped him when you had passed out in his arms.

You sniffled softly, your eyes darting anywhere but to him, your body tense and rigid as if your bones were locking into place. Instead of answering his question, you opted to redirect the conversation. “Do we know what caused the explosion?”

His expression was unreadable, and you noticed his jaw tick slightly as he processed your words. After a moment, he exhaled slowly, raising his hand to brush his knuckles gently across your arm. A shiver coursed through you at the contact, and you could see the corners of his lips curl slightly at your reaction. This time, he didn’t bother to hide himself from you.

“I did.”

“What?” Your voice came out louder than intended, earning a deep, rumbling chuckle from Sylus. He relaxed further into his chair, locking his carmine eyes onto yours with an intensity that sent your heart racing.

“What are you talking about, Sylus? When I came in there…” It was becoming increasingly difficult to mask the emotion in your voice. “When I came in, you had fainted. What would have happened to you if I hadn’t found you in time?”

Amusement danced freely in his eyes at your small outburst. You truly were exquisite in your concern. “You underestimate me too much, sweetie.”

“You’re the one underestimating your enemies, Sylus!” You raised your voice, your hands gesturing in disbelief. “Just because you’re the leader of Onychinus doesn’t mean they can’t get to you if you’re unconscious.”

“Burnt men can’t walk, kitten.”

A small gasp escaped your lips at the speed and bluntness of his response. His smugness only fueled your anger at his reckless behavior. Leaning down, you gripped the arms of his chair, effectively caging him in. You were about to respond when you suddenly realized the position you had put yourself in. It gave him a full view of your breasts, the fabric of your nightgown flowing away from your skin and leaving little to the imagination.

Your ears and cheeks burned a deep crimson as you tried to pull away just as quickly as you'd leaned down. However, Sylus’s arm had already wrapped around your waist, anchoring you in place and pulling you impossibly closer. Your breath hitched when you noticed the way his pupils had dilated, his lips parting slightly as he fixated on your slowly hardening nipples.

“Sylus…” Your voice was barely a whisper now, heat pooling in your core under his intense gaze.

Finally, Sylus’s eyes met yours, and he began to stroke your back slowly, his tone low as if he feared shattering the delicate bubble that enveloped you both. “The explosion; It was my plan all along. Why else would I want you out and away from the building, sweetie?”

A frown crossed your face at his admission. Despite your initial shock, your body grew more compliant under his gentle strokes as he pulled you in, guiding you to straddle his thigh. His red irises darkened just a bit when your pulsing core made contact with his jeans and you felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks at the realization that he could probably feel just how wet you were.

Yet, he continued speaking, his voice smooth and steady. “Tonight had no other way of going. It was necessary and inevitable.”

“But why?” Your eyes had softened since you’d first entered his room, and you found yourself relaxing more beneath his touch as he explained the events of the night.

“Because, kitten, tonight’s transaction was off the table the moment it was proposed by the other side, a few days back when I was still away."

By now, confusion began to cloud your understanding of Sylus’s motives. “But…” Your gaze drifted to his desk, where numerous files lay scattered. “Is this why you came back earlier? Tonight’s transaction was for that protocore you needed, Sylus. I thought nothing could screw this up for you. Weren’t you after it for years?”

Sylus let out a small scoff, his lips pressing into a thin line as he studied your face intently. “You never asked me what the price of that protocore was, kitten.”

Curiosity piqued, you looked up at him again, instinctively leaning closer. Your breasts brushed against his chest, heightening the tension between you as if his answer were a secret he needed to share. “And what was the price?”

“You.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and a dark cloud crossed his features as he spoke. His grip on your waist tightened slightly, causing you to squirm on his thigh, which elicited a low grunt from him.

Your emotions were a chaotic mess, thoughts swirling together and leaving you breathless as you tried to process what he was implying. “So what you’re saying is…”

“The deal was off the table the moment they thought you were for sale.” Sylus’s leg bounced suddenly, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips. Your hands instinctively flew out to clutch the fabric of his open shirt for stability. “I came back because I had to send a message.”

His voice dripped with malice as he continued to move his leg, sending shockwaves of sensation through your core as it ground against his thigh.

The pleasure mixed with confusion made you feel light-headed; even if you wanted to resist, your body had already betrayed you. There was no stopping your hips from chasing the friction, no way to quell the whimpers that escaped your lips. Sylus’s fingers curled tighter around the fabric of your nightgown at the sound.

As you continued to grind against him, he spoke with a dark intensity. “They had to know, kitten; Nobody lives to say they tried to bargain with what belongs to me.”

“I—I don’t belong to you,” you breathed out, unsure whether you were trying to lie to him or to yourself.

“Is this why you’re drenching my thigh, sweetie?” As if to emphasize his point, he bounced his knee again, causing it to press against your sensitive nerves with a force that made you moan involuntarily, your head falling to rest on his shoulder.

“You poor thing,” he cooed in your ear, his hand sliding to your lower back, urging you to grind down against him.

“Tonight—you put yourself in danger, Sylus.” You struggled to form coherent thoughts as you chased your orgasm on his thigh, your mind slowly turning to mush. “That was so stupid, even for you.” You finished your sentence with a moan, and Sylus groaned, instinctively moving his hips upward, his own hard-on seeking friction.

“Were you worried about me, kitten?” He dipped his head to your neck, his lips leaving open-mouthed kisses as he awaited your response, which never came. Sensing your hesitation to voice your concern, his hand slipped between your bodies, his fingertip pressing onto your throbbing clit, making you cry out. “Answer me.”

“I—yes. Yes, I was s'worried.” Your head fell back in bliss, granting him access to suck and nibble on your throat as your hips moved faster and harder. The tight coil in your belly was only a few movements away from bursting. “I thought I’d—”

“Go on.” Sylus urged, his fingers dancing over your clit as he bounced his knee in sync with your movements, relishing the way you were making a mess on him, your whole body heating under his touch.

“I thought I’d lost you.” The words escaped your lips just as your orgasm washed over you, making your vision go black and your entire body shake with its intensity. Sylus’s arms wrapped around you, caging you against his chest as he let you ride it out, offering the small comfort you sought after your confession.

When you finally came down from your high, you were breathless, panting, and a few tears had escaped your eyes. But he was there, holding you gently and running his fingers through your hair. “I’m not that easy to get rid of, sweetie.”

You pushed your head off his chest, your eyes meeting his soft red ones. Without thinking clearly, you reached out to cradle his face. The moment your fingertips made contact with his skin, his whole body visibly flinched, and just like his heartbeat, it felt like time had stopped.

Horrified and regretful, you realized you had let your emotions get the best of you and forgotten about your evol. You stood up from his lap, pressing your hands tightly against your chest, the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Just a few seconds. Just a few seconds, and he’ll wake up, like he always does, right? Doubts gnawed at you; he was so weak after tonight, but his evol would heal him. It had to.

Just when you were about to scream for help, Sylus’s chest began to rise and fall again. His eyes fluttered open, and relief flooded your entire being. Your shoulders slumped, and your body shook, even though he was alright. How could you have been so careless?

“Sweetie.” His voice was soft as he stood from his chair, towering over you. “Look at me.”

You tilted your head up hesitantly, your regrets gnawing at you for what you had just done. You tried to open your mouth to apologize, but no words came out; instead, his lips found yours, silencing any sound you might have made. He threaded his fingers through your hair, pulling gently to angle your head to the side and deepen the kiss until you thought you might faint from lack of breath.

This time, you made sure to keep your hands glued to your sides, not daring to touch him again. When he finally pulled away, you were both panting. He rested his forehead against yours and moved his hand to the back pocket of his pants, retrieving something.

You tilted your head to watch him unfold two pieces of leather gloves. He carefully took your wrist, drawing it toward him before placing the glove on your hand, then moved to the other to do the same. It was a temporary solution, one that frustrated you to no end, but you wouldn’t jeopardize his life just for a touch of his soft skin.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your thoughts crashing over you like a tsunami of negativity at the prospect of harming him. Your frustration only fueled your desperation, and you found yourself clawing at the remnants of his shirt, trying to pull him closer. “I need you, please, Sylus, ’m so sorry.”

Sylus groaned as he felt you tugging him nearer, his own hands finding refuge on your body, touching and caressing anywhere he could reach. “Are you sure, kitten? Once we start, I don’t know if I can hold back.” His voice was low and controlled, while your legs trembled with desire and need.

“Then don’t hold back. Give me everything you have. I can take it, Sylus.” You pressed kisses all over his exposed chest, making him gasp and thin his patience. In one swift motion, you found yourself lifted off the floor, your body cradled in one of his arms as he carried you toward his desk.

“You really know how to bring a man to his knees, sweetie.” He placed you gently on top of the desk, taking his position between your legs. Your lips connected again as his hands deftly worked to rid you of your clothes.

Once you were bare before him, he stepped back, his gaze roaming over your body like a starving man taking in a feast. “Breathtaking.”

He fell to his knees in front of you, throwing your legs over his shoulders with a force that sent you backward, your elbows bracing against the desk for balance. He was too impatient to tease; he dived right in, his tongue lapping at your folds with urgent fervor.

Your back arched immediately, moans and whimpers spilling from your lips as he worked his mouth on your cunt, devouring you as if you were his last meal. Your legs tightened around his head, the pleasure overwhelming, which only made him groan and feast on you harder.

His tongue plunged into your tight hole, sending shockwaves of sensation coursing through your body. You thought you could hold on a little longer, but when his large hand spread across your tummy, pressing down, you exploded in his mouth. Your vision went white as you drenched him, your thighs shaking violently around his head.

The realization of what you had done hit you when he pulled away, his chin and exposed chest glistening with droplets of your release. You shot your gloved hand to cover your mouth, your legs instinctively closing in embarrassment.

Yet, he looked even more exhilarated, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them apart as he positioned himself between them, his lips finding yours once more. “You’re going to do this again. And this time, you’re going to do it on my cock.”

He pushed you back, a firm hand on your chest as you lay spread out on top of his desk. Your eyes focused on his hands as they deftly undid his pants, pushing them down along with his briefs. The moment you saw his girthy cock—veiny and the tip angry and red for you—your mouth went dry.

You craved to satisfy him as he had satisfied you, but when you tried to sit up, his hand pressed you back down against the desk.

“Not tonight, sweetie. Right now, I just need to be inside you.”

Even though he spoke, he made no move to get on you, waiting for your consent first. You nodded, your eyes clouded with lust.

“Use your words, kitten. I need to hear you.” He was pumping his cock with his hand, his fingers barely wrapping around it. Standing before you in all his naked glory, he resembled a Greek statue, and your chest tightened at how wickedly beautiful he looked.

“Yes. Please, Sy, need you inside me.” Your voice came out breathless, and that was all the confirmation he needed. He wrapped an arm around your thigh, pulling you to the edge of the desk and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder to spread you open exactly as he desired.

He pushed the tip in at first, making you clench around him instinctively, as if trying to suck him deeper. An unsteady breath escaped him, and his body stuttered momentarily. You were killing him in the sweetest way. “So goddamn tight.”

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as he pushed further inside you, his grip on your thigh tightening the moment he was fully buried in you, his pelvis pressing against yours. You could feel him all the way up into your stomach, and your legs began to shake, even though he remained still.

His breathing had turned erratic, and the moment your hips squirmed forward, his other hand came down to keep you in place. “Shit, baby, don’t move. Give me a moment.”

You were a whimpering mess, sweat beading on your forehead from the anticipation. But the instant he started moving, your whole body unlocked, turning to pudding under his thrusts. He began with a slow, deliberate pace, his lips parting as small grunts escaped him, each thrust igniting the fire building within you.

The more you clenched down on his cock, the faster he moved, until the desk scraped against the marble floor. “Fuck, kitten. You’re squeezing me so tightly.” His voice was thick with lust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin only intensified the fire burning deep in your core. “Do you love my cock that much?”

Your mind had turned to mush, thoughts consumed by how he stretched you and filled you to the brim. You nodded uncontrollably, crying out every time his cock brushed against your sweet spot. “Yes! I love it so much, Sy.”

“Good girl.” Sylus’s thrusts quickened as he heard your pretty sounds, the way your walls sucked him in making his thighs tremble slightly as he felt his release drawing near. “Such a good girl, so cock-hungry for me.”

“Ah— fuck.” Stars began to form behind your eyelids, your whole body rocking on the desk. If it weren’t for Sylus’s hands gripping your thighs, you would have slid right off and ended up on the floor from his relentless force. The desk shook violently from his pounding, and you were certain the whole house could hear you.

Sylus’s hand reached for your face, his thumb brushing against your lower lip before slipping past it to press down on your tongue, making you clench around his cock instinctively. “That’s it, sweetie,” he breathed, his eyes closing and his head tilting back in pleasure as your cunt hugged him tightly. “Give it to me; I can feel how close you are.”

You were indeed on the brink, your whole body burning and trembling under Sylus’s powerful thrusts. But what sent you over the edge was a sudden knock on the door, followed by Luke’s voice calling out to see if everything was alright.

The moment you realized you had been caught, and Luke could turn the doorknob at any second to find you spread for Sylus, his cock pressing against your cervix, you exploded. Your loud moans were partly muffled by the white-haired man's finger in your mouth. The pressure you applied around his cock as you climaxed made Sylus falter, his own orgasm crashing over him with a force he hadn’t anticipated.

His hot seed coated your walls, filling you to the brim and spilling out of you, trickling down your thighs as he continued to thrust, ensuring every last drop found its way inside. You were a crying, spent mess on his desk, while he tried to catch his breath, slowly lowering your leg back down from his shoulder.

Luke was long gone from outside the door, having heard enough to realize what was happening between you and Sylus.

You could only look up at him with a small shared chuckle before he leaned down to kiss your lips, his newfound gentleness contrasting sharply with the intensity of the moment. “I believe they received a lesson about eavesdropping now,” he murmured, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

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singmyaubade · 2 years ago

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No Longer Yours

James Potter x Female!Reader

A/N: I am trying a new way of writing these stories, there won't be lots of dialogue in this part, but there will be more; this is just a look into where the story starts.

IB: In The Cold November Rain by @sweetsweetjellybean (Make sure to check it out, it’s amazing and one of the best I’ve ever read !)

Summary: James had disregarded you for multiple years, but when you have an epiphany in your final year, how does it feel to taste his own medicine?

Warning: It may contain swearing and soon-to-be smut.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You never considered yourself to be a pushover when it came to things. Instead, you would use the word "understanding" and used it the most when it came to James Fleamont Potter.

He meant the absolute world to you since you were nine when you first met him. He lived next to you, both of your rooms being next to each other. You could always see him in his window, not that you were stalking, but you could never quite get your eyes off him.

Every time he would catch you staring, he would give you a wave, never felt weirded out. Then he would ring you up and ask you to come for dinner with your family. You would always accept unless your mother insisted on not intruding on them anymore.

You always caught his look of disappointment when you told him you couldn't come over, seeing him on the phone with you. It would always make your heart flutter, always having to stop the smile from forming on your face.

And then, after dinner, he would always come over, and you two would hang out (of course, with the door open). But you knew James would never try anything.

Your parents had suspicions when you both were fully formed teenagers and had hormones. Again, you knew James wasn't a perv; he respected you.

Even when he would slap your thigh in laughter when you said a joke or when his front pressed against your back when you two joked around, or his touch would linger when he ticked you.

But that was all besides the point; you loved James like no other. You loved the rest of the Marauders, too, but with James, there was no questioning if the love was different.

The only times you weren't sure about that 'love' was when Lily Evans would come around. He never truly knew how to pay attention to or regard you when she came around, but he claimed it was 'love.'

You wondered if he loved Lily the same way you loved him or if it was more complete, passionate, and extraordinary. You could never ask; James wouldn't know what to do. You couldn't blame Lily, it wasn't her fault, and she turned down his advances multiple times.

You were sure that James would move on, but then, during sixth year, Lily confessed that she was starting to have a crush on James.

You tried hiding your disappointment, but it was hard; it nearly broke your heart; you knew James would tell you all about it as soon as you saw him again.

There was no wish to be cruel, but a part of you, maybe the whole, was hoping she would joke. Perhaps she would again realize how immature James was and remember how he bullied Snape.

But that would be selfish and unfair to James; you were supposed to be his best friend, and he deserves this.

And you knew Lily was kind, beautiful, thoughtful, and honest. She deserved James more than he deserved her. You wouldn't break her happiness because it was pure; if you did, it would be evil.

So when she asked you if you were okay with that, constantly questioning your feelings towards James, you said,

"Of course, you should go out with James," You placed a hand on her shoulder, "I think you two would be amazing together." A genuine bright smile passed your face as she embraced you and thanked you for being truthful with her.

While they dated, James would always tell you every time he and Lily did something.

From every kiss, every date, and every cute moment to Lily laughing at a joke he made about crisps in Hogsmeade or the dove they saw randomly, which is a sign that they are genuinely in love.

After telling you every detail, he would embrace you in a tight hug so you could smell his scent entirely. He would thank you for being "such a good friend and say that "he loves you."

You knew he loved you but you wished he loved you in a different way. A way that his heart would scrunch when you were around or a way that made him want to compliment your hair or your smile like he did with Lily.

You wished it pissed you off enough to be mad at him, but every time he hugged you, you forgave him and knew it was just him being happy and wanting to tell a friend.

He still always joked around with you the same and bantered with you, but it was just less, you wanted more, but he could only give you so much time, and you knew that.

Only a few of your friends understood, like Remus and Dorcas. They would comfort you in every moment when you felt unsure of yourself, or you just wanted to talk.

You probably would have been misunderstood if it weren't for them, but they acknowledged and validated your feelings.

That's what got you through that time.

Nonetheless, there was no point in dwelling on past memories. James and Lily broke up at the end of that very year, it being mutual due to the realization of too many things clashing.

He was a bit of a wreck but recognized that it was for the better. It didn't stop him from sometimes crying in your arms, talking about how much he missed Lily.

Eventually, James started to move on, talking to you more, joking with you, and inviting you to sit next to him at dinner. You had missed this for so long and were grateful.

He went back to tickling you and playfighting with you. He would even make you sit with him during potions.

This was until the end of the year Quidditch match, Gryffindor had won, and excitement had raised. You went to congratulate James on the win, having a big jar of Fizzing Whizbees in your hand, his favorite.

You opened the door a crack, overhearing him but not wanting to interrupt his conversation with the rest of the Quidditch team.

"Come on, Potter, don't tell me you aren't going to snog her tonight," A boy you recognized as Matthew Collingwood teased, "She's been over you for years; why not just hit it and quit it?" Your face contorted to disgust after hearing his use of words.

"Don't tell me you are talking about Y/n," James scoffed, "There is no way I would ever think of her like that," A part of your heart broke hearing his words; he didn't even defend his last words.

"I mean, she does have a fat bum," Another boy laughed.

"Oy, she's like a sister to me, don't talk about her like that," James warned, his tone sounding half serious as the boy put his hands up jokingly.

A sister.

"Okay, but come on, Potter, you have to shag her at least once before we graduate," Matthew sneered.

"Listen, boys, I wouldn't touch Y/n if she were the last girl on earth," He belittled, "Besides, she would cling to my cock like crazy after that; I mean, look at her now, can't even take a piss without her peering over my shoulder." He gestured, pretending to take a piss and looking behind him to see if you were around.

The boys hollered, laughing at James’s visual representation of you.

Tears brimmed your eyes as you dropped the glass-made jar, shattering in the process. You let go of the door, turning your heel to run away.

The tears started running down your cheeks as you wiped each of them as they came. You went under a tree, crying your eyes out, wondering why James would be so cruel.

He was your best friend, and you thought he loved you enough to not make fun of you. James could sometimes be thoughtless, but he never was brutal to you.

Did he really think you were clingy, consistently all over him? Did he get annoyed by how much you were around him? Would he never like you even if you were the last girl on the planet?

You were humiliated, embarrassed by his words, his thoughts. Every feeling of James Potter that made you happy and wanted to fall into his arms turned into hate and resentment, his words reiterating in your mind a thousand times.

That night, you vowed never to make James Potter make you feel that way again.

So that night, you didn't join the celebration. You told your friends that your stomach was hurting and you weren't in the mood for festivities.

You didn't know if James had asked where you were during that night, and you didn't want to know after the words he had shared with others.

Since you were allowed to leave Hogwarts the day after summer began, you did. You didn't wait for James to go with you; you left without him, wishing all your friends goodbye, dismissing all questions about why you were leaving early and blaming it on your mother's wishes.

"Okay, well," Lily sighed, "Make sure to ring me over the summer and visit if you can." You embraced her and nodded your head, telling her that you will.

"And don't forget to ring me as well," Dorcas said from behind you as you went over to her and hugged her tightly, "Whatever he did," She whispered in your ear, "Give him hell."

You pulled out of the hug and gave her a smile, "I will."

As she left, you approached the Gryffindor common room to find Remus reading as usual.

"Gonna wish a good friend goodbye?" Remus questioned, looking over at you. You were glad he wasn’t questioning why you were leaving so early in the morning.

"How could I ever not?" You asked, embracing him for a minute.

"So, are you gonna tell me what he did?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"How do you and Dorcas know everything?" You said, rolling your eyes.

"How good of friends would we be if we didn't." He smirked, "I can ta-"

You cut him off, "No, this is not your responsibility; I will take care of it." You smiled, "But thank you for caring; it means the most to me."

"Of course," He said as you nodded and turned to leave, "And take care of yourself." You turned back, giving him a reassuring smile.

After saying all your goodbyes for the school year, you sat in a window seat, looking at the school you loved dearly. You never thought you could quite say this, but you were ready for home.

Once you returned home, a letter was waiting for you on your window seal stating,

Dear Y/n,

Give him hell.

Sincerely the only one you need,

Dorcas Meadows.

And what kind of friend would you be if you didn't do what was asked?

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boringbones · 21 days ago

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A Letter to Talented Creators

I've been part of this community for 20 years, watching artists rise, fall, leave for new journeys, or simply stop playing or creating. We've received amazing content, but we've also missed out on much.

I wonder how many of these artists could still be creating extraordinary content if they had the support of their communities. It’s common to encounter cliques of creators who vilify anyone considering making a living doing what they love. They’ll use every trick to convince you that not only do you NOT deserve it, but that pursuing it somehow taints you.

With every new friend and artist I meet, my first advice is always: FIND a way to monetize what you do. I believe that if you have the chance to make a living doing what you love, you gain MORE TIME to do what you're great at and, especially, what others love.

Besides, you don’t need everyone’s support—just those who, like me and many other players, are willing to contribute to ensure you have the time you need to keep producing and delivering something only you can create. There are ideas that haven’t been thought of and projects that haven’t been started. Life brings unexpected situations, and we never truly know what goes on behind the scenes for each person who shares their art with the world.

Let me tell you, people are willing to support you. In reality, there are more people willing to support a creator than those who aren't. The difference is that those who are willing don’t make as much noise, but they genuinely enjoy helping an artist who continually exceeds expectations.

I know some people think, “If I make money from this, I’ll have to commit to a level I’m not willing to.” And if that’s the case, that’s fine. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. However, I see this commitment as something positive, but I respect those who disagree. As an artist, you want a certain level of "healthy" pressure. After all, art requires it—not too much pressure, but not too little, either.

Criquette, for instance, is one of the best creators for The Sims 2 in my view. He made incredible things that nearly every player has used. He was ambitious on a level I’ve rarely seen. But he’s been inactive for years. I wonder how much more he could have created if he’d been able to monetize his work—cover household bills, put food in the fridge, or handle basic expenses. How much more time he might have had to create and share? How many brilliant things we could have today in The Sims if he were still here? But he wasn’t monetized, and maybe he was never interested in it, and that’s okay!

For every artist who monetizes, there are many who prefer to do it as a hobby. And that’s wonderful. There are many runners who do it for well-being, pleasure, social connections, or the benefits it brings to life. However, there are those who run professionally. They commit to a level an “amateur” NEVER would. They undergo training that a casual or hobbyist runner would NEVER endure. They maintain diets that others would NEVER tolerate. But the fact that some monetize running and turn it into a career doesn’t prevent others from running for love, fun, or enjoyment.

So, what I’m trying to say is: it’s all okay. If you believe monetizing your talent would give you more QUALITY time to sit and produce what you love, give you the chance to take someone you love to a special restaurant simply because you can, or allow you to be BETTER at what you do because it frees you from worrying about adult responsibilities—then do it!

Be prepared for the noise others will make, but remember that those people aren’t your target audience. Even if they make noise, they don’t consume what you produce. And if they do, they might do so in secret—because attacking a creator and consuming that creator’s work is contradictory. But believe me, there’s often more inconsistency than consistency in this world. And that’s okay!

Remember that on the other side, there are many kind people who don’t mind contributing a small, medium, or even significant amount to support a creator they love, appreciate, and benefit from. Keep this in mind when considering monetization, no matter which version of The Sims you create for. If there’s even one person willing to support you, that’s all you need to start.

I am sure that with this, you’ll have more time, more quality of life, more joy, and a healthy commitment to push yourself in a positive way to give back to your audience for the support and love they have for what you create.

If I have time to create and contribute today, it’s because of these people. They’ve changed my life, shown me that I have the chance to live the life I genuinely want for myself rather than the life circumstances might have dictated. They show me daily that I can LOVE what I do and make a living from it, and that monetizing it doesn’t take away my love for it—instead, it enhances it. I hope you consider my words.

In the end, remember this phrase: “Beyond daily life and what others think of you, what do you think of yourself?” Your value is something only you define. People will respect you to the extent that you respect yourself. If anyone says you don’t have a place “here,” remember, we’re always speaking about ourselves.

We can only give to others what we have, what we are. Trust in your talent and find a way to monetize it, whatever it may be—whether it’s making jarred cakes, selling pudding door-to-door, or creating content for The Sims. I’ve done all these things, and if I’ve learned one thing, it’s that our circumstances change according to our sense of worth. When we recognize that every job has value and that there’s nothing wrong with making a living if you’re providing benefits to others with what you have to offer... So follow your heart. Take risks, give it your all, and be the artist you want to be, because there are people ready to support you. You deserve it, and you will succeed. I hope this letter reminds you of your worth.

Never forget that each of your creations is a unique expression, something only you can bring to the world. May that value and uniqueness always guide you and give you the confidence to keep doing what you love.

#ts1 #ts2 #ts3 #ts4 #LettertoCreators

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ayyy-pee · 5 months ago

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kind of wanna open my requests so i can flex my brain a lil bit. yall send me something to write! sldkfjksd PLSSSSSSSSS

Hi Lexi!! How’re you?? 🥹💕

Could I possible request… some fluffy dad Suguru content? 🥹🥹 I just… think he’s such a sweet dad ❤️ And so caring and adoring 🫶

Nonnie, I'm SO late answering this!! I'm doing well! I hope you are too!! I hope you enjoy this because fluffy dad Suguru also makes me meltttt. He is just such a perfect dad fr I hope you enjoy this and thank you for the request! ❤️

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

The first time Suguru holds his daughter, he is bewildered. The shock of watching her enter the world through you has not yet worn off and his mind is in overdrive. While the doctors and nurses work to ensure you’re healthy and in good condition, he’s handed this tiny human to care for in the meantime. And he has no clue where to start.

He simply watches her at first, amazed at how quiet she is, how her tiny hands are curled into fists and tucked under her chin. How her tiny chest rises and falls with calm breaths. And he’s amazed at how quiet you are, too. The baby’s entrance into the world was an emotional one for you both, Suguru holding your hand tightly as you pushed yourself to the brink of exhaustion to bring life into this world. You’re lying in bed with your eyes closed as you catch your breath and Suguru can’t help but stare at both you and your daughter.

She looks like you, he thinks. As she dozes in his embrace, he sees the uncanny resemblance. She has your best features – your nose, your cute pout, she even has a tuft of hair sitting atop her head that Suguru is certain will one day match your color and texture. He begins to wonder if he was even in the room when she came to be. This baby is all you.

But, he supposes he’s lucky. He can’t be unhappy about that. You’re wondrous. Even as you lie exhausted and sweaty, Suguru finds you to be the most ethereal being he’s ever seen. Strong, too. He’s certain he doesn’t know a single person in the world that is stronger than you right now. He definitely doesn’t know anyone as generous as you. To gift him something so extraordinary. He’s not sure he could ever express his gratitude.

The first tiny hiccup Suguru hears from his child makes him stand straighter, eyes wide as he peers down at her. And then another hiccup happens, followed by rapid breaths, a little pouty mouth that opens to let out quiet sobs. He looks at you in panic, but you meet his fear with a gentle expression on your face. One that holds encouragement, because you know that he needs it. You know he’s never seen himself as a father, never been confident in being one.

You know that he’s scared.

But you give him the boost he needs, gently rocking his baby in his arms, cooing softly. It’s like instinct kicking in. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.” He bounces the newborn, slowly walking around the hospital room as he tries to calm the baby. The cries quiet down gradually, the tight expression on her little face softening. “I’m here. Daddy’s here.”

And his heart swells as the cries stop, as her face relaxes, as his words comfort his child enough that she opens her eyes for the first time since coming into the world. She peers up, and Suguru stands still, heart nearly stopping when he sees violet eyes exactly like his own staring back at him. It’s the only thing it seems he’d passed on to her.

You are perfect. So incredibly perfect. He can’t believe what he’s seeing, that he’s holding such magnificence in his arms.

“See?” You call quietly to him from your bed. The doctor and nurses have given you the green light, letting you know they will be back to check on you soon. So it’s just you, him and the tiny world you’ve created together in Suguru’s embrace. Your eyes light up from across the room, guiding Suguru to your bedside where you smile softly as he leans forward to hand you the baby. “You’re already such a good dad. Himari is so lucky to have you.”

- - Six Years Later

“Daddy, hurry up!”

“Hold on! I need to fix my hair! Almost done!”

“Ooh! I wanna help!”

A quiet chuckle can be heard from behind Suguru as he sits in front of the vanity in the bathroom. You’re brushing through his hair, which has grown exponentially over the years. As you stroke through the strands, Suguru hums softly, a small smile curling on his lips when he hears the tiny footsteps slapping against the hardwood floors.

“She’s coming,” you tease, a sing-song lilt in your voice. You set the brush down on the vanity, stepping aside carefully as Suguru stands. He takes your hand in his, pulling you close. Well, as close as he can. Your round belly keeps him from being able to fully hold you. You’re due to give birth to your son any day now, and while Suguru begged for you to rest while he got dressed for tonight, you’d insisted on taking part in the festivities.

“Absolutely not! I want you both to look your best so I can get pictures!” You’d argued earlier, stubborn as ever.

“Oh, so you don’t think I could get Himari ready on my own?” Suguru asked, feigning offense and you scoff.

“No. Move.” You pushed past him, earning a hearty laugh from your husband. He loved your little attitude. He loved it even more when you were pregnant. It was so cute watching you waddle into the bathroom, starting the shower and barking at Suguru to wash his hair so you could style it. While he finished his shower, you got Himari ready, only returning when she was busy playing with her toys while waiting.

“Were the curls necessary?” Suguru asks, glancing at his reflection. You stand on the tips of your toes, attempting to press a sweet kiss to his cheek, only for Suguru to quickly turn his head and steal a kiss from your lips instead. You can’t help but grin.

“Stop it. I think you look –”

A loud squeal cuts through the atmosphere and you both snap your heads towards the sounds where Himari stands in the doorway of the bathroom. “Oh my gosh!! Daddy, you look so cute!!!” Your daughter claps her tiny hands, bouncing up and down.

You watch with hardly concealed amusement as she closes the gap between you three and Suguru kneels to her level immediately, forgetting all about you. “Not as cute as you, Hima.” He winks, taking Himari’s hand in his and twirling her around to take in her powder pink princess dress. Suguru wears the same colored shirt, insisting he match his baby from head to toe.

It’s adorable, because as the years have passed, any similarities Himari once shared with you have slowly disappeared. She’s practically a carbon copy of your husband – his eye shape and color, his nose and lips. Even her personality is the same as his, which is clear in the way they’re now bickering back and forth.

“Please, Daddy, pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseeeee–” your daughter whines, violet eyes wide as she juts her bottom lip out to pout.

“Please, what?” You question, glancing between the two. Suguru rolls his eyes, rising to his feet.

“She wants to put bows in my hair,” your husband mutters. You burst into a fit of giggles because you know exactly what’s going to happen next.

“What color, Hima?” Suguru asks her, moving past you to find the hair accessory drawer you keep on the bathroom shelves for your little girl.

Just what you knew would happen. What Himari wants, Himari gets. Especially when it comes to Suguru. He has said no to his daughter maybe three times in her entire six years of life. Your daughter folds her arms across her chest, closing her eyes and knitting her brows together in concentration (because this question is so very important) and God, she looks so much like her father it almost makes you emotional. Your hands find your belly, rubbing soothing circles over the soon to be new addition to the family as you observe your husband kneeling down again with the blue and purple bows that your daughter chose for him.

Himari tucks Suguru’s hair behind his ears, holding it in place by clipping a blue bow on one side and a purple bow on the other. Then Suguru does the same to hers – one blue and one purple bow to match his. He then lifts her, holding her tightly as Himari wraps her arms around his neck.

“Ready, Mommy!” They announce in unison.

- - - - - - - -

“Promise to take lots of pictures, Sugu,” you nag as your husband guides you slowly and carefully down the stairs. Himari waits impatiently at the bottom of the steps.

“Yeah, yeah. I will.”

“Suguru, I’m serious!”

He laughs, amused by the way you’re frowning. He won’t lie, everything you do while pregnant is adorable to him. He knows he shouldn’t go out of his way to annoy you, but you’re so cute and round with his baby, he can’t help it! “Yes, I know, love. I’ll take a lot of pictures.”

“Okay, good. Pictures of both of you, too. So I can frame them.”

“Yesssss, okay.”

Suguru helps you off down the last step, hands finding your belly and rubbing gentle circles. Your son kicks at his palms and he can’t help but feel his heart swell with pride. He can’t wait to hold his son the same way he held his daughter soon. Your sighing pulls Suguru from his daydreams, and he sees you staring up the staircase because he knows you likely won’t have the energy to try and get back up the stairs while he’s out. You’ll probably sleep on the sofa until he’s back and able to help you get up to bed safely. It’s become sort of a routine in these last few weeks.

Suguru leans down and places a kiss to the top of your head, a promise that he’ll take care of you when he gets home. He turns his attention to his eager daughter.

“Ready to go, Princess?”

She nods excitedly.

“Wait!” You exclaim. “Let me get a picture before you leave!”

“Babe, we’re going to be late…” Suguru groans, scooping Himari into his arms.

You roll your eyes, lifting your phone anyway. “Don’t care, smile!”

Himari beams, Suguru grins and again…twins. You snap a few photos, knowing it will only take Himari only a few seconds before her cute smile morphs into an expression that looks like she’s in pain.

“Okay!” Satisfied with your pictures, you hurry over to your husband, kissing your daughter’s cheek before Suguru gives you a quick peck on the lips. “I love you both so much. Have fun, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy!” Hima agrees, nodding with determination.

“We will, baby. I love you. Get off your feet and rest, please,” Suguru chides. “Call me if you need me. If you can’t reach me, call Satoru or Shoko, okay?”

“I will,” you reassure him, because beneath his calm request, you can hear the apprehension in his voice. These days, he’s hesitant to leave you alone for too long in case you go into labor while he’s gone. But this night is important to Himari, and with a little (a lot) of pushing, you’d finally convinced him to go.

You wave goodbye to your husband and daughter as they head out of the front door for the night. And maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones, but as you take a seat on the couch and pull up social media to share the photo of your husband and daughter, tears begin to fall.

Himari has grown so much, and you are proud of the young girl she’s becoming. You wouldn’t be able to do this without the man who has been there with you through it all. You are so lucky to have Suguru – as a husband, as the father of your children. You can hardly believe there was ever a time where he doubted that he would excel at being a dad. These pictures are evidence enough that he was always going to be the best dad he could be. He would do anything for you, your daughter, for you, your son, your family.

With one hand you rub your belly, you sniffle quietly as you speak, “I can’t wait to take pictures like this with you, my sweet Yori…”

You hit ‘Send’ on your post, the photo of Suguru and Himari with matching outfits, matching hairbows, and matching smiles uploading with the caption: “Look at my cuties! Baby’s first Daddy-Daughter dance! ❤️”

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alwaysanundertone · 2 months ago

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Day 3: multiple orgasms | poly! marauders + Lily

smut

TW: piv, oral (both fem and male receiving), teasing, nipple play, squirting

You didn’t know what that was about today got your lovers so horny, but something was definitely in the air because you’ve never had all of them lusting over you like this in the same day.

It all started in the morning, when you found Lily’s head between your thighs, kissing you sloppily while fingering you. Now, this wasn’t something extraordinary, to wake up with one of your lovers in between your thighs, and you couldn’t complain, honestly. Usually, though, that was enough to satiate them.

Instead, you found her hand dangerously close to your core in the Great Hall. “Lily!” You whispered at her, making her chuckle. “Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to work you up” But she definitely did, because her hand didn’t stray away from its position, her fingertips grazing lightly at your core. Sirius, sitting on your other side, mimicked Lily, making the simple task of taking notes an Herculean one.

During lunch, Remus was glued to your side, always finding an excuse to kiss your neck, making you shiver, or to “casually” reaching across from you, his arm grazing your nipples.

But what made today nearly unbearable was the sloppy make out session with James, when he decided to drag you in the locker room mid training, his hands everywhere but somehow not where you needed him the most.

So, here you were, sat for dinner, your appetite for food lost for good. Somehow, all you were thinking about was to get off, your orgasm in the morning clearly not enough to satiate you after all of the teasing.

“Something’s wrong, dove?” One glance at Remus’s face, and you knew that was all a really well made plan to get in between your thighs. The worst part about it was that they didn’t have to make you this needy to reach their goal, you were always more than willing to have a night of hot sex with all of them.

“I’m going upstairs” Without saying another word, you got up, stomping to your room, all of them following you close behind. Once there, you turned around, pointing a finger at them accusingly. “I know what you all are up to.”

Lily chuckled. “And what’s that, honey?” Her voice was so sexy, it confused you for a second, but you quickly snapped out of it.

“See? Why are you being this hot today? It’s so unfair, all of these touches and no getting off, this is pointless AND frustrating”

Sirius circled you, gathering your hair in his hand to free one of your shoulders, kissing it lovingly. “You didn’t like it? Didn’t like how me and Lily were making you all worked up under the dining table? So close to coming, weren’t you” He spoke near your ear, making you shiver. Remus quickly made his way to the other side. “Didn’t like how I grazed your nipples at lunch? They were so hard, peaking out from your shirt, the hottest thing I’ve ever seen”

James kissed your lips. “Didn’t like our little make out session? It was hot, wasn’t it?”

All of this dirty talking was making its way to your head, your brain mush. “I… But…”

Lily laughed. “Sht, honey, let us take care of our poor girl, so needy after a long day of teasing”

You were led to your bed, your mind spinning, while they started undressing you.

“Fuck, not the red lace panties” You winked up at Remus. “Two can play this game” He smirked, toying with the hem of them, then taking them off with a quick motion.

Lily knelt on the ground between your legs, her head soon between your thighs. “Getting to taste you twice today, how am I so lucky”

The guys watched you closely, but you were too far gone to feel ashamed about it, your brain short circuiting. Feeling her tongue on you was the closest thing you’ve ever experienced to heaven, it was the way she wouldn’t stray her gaze away from you, even while being so focused on your pleasure.

“Awe, baby, you’re soaking. Going to come on her face like a good girl, mh?” You nodded, then James had his dick pulled out directly over your head. “Suck on it while you come, sweetheart”

You obeyed, licking a stripe from the head of his dick up to his balls, his taste giving you a heady feeling. As you came, you released a loud cry, muffled by James’s cock, the vibrations making the guy throwing his head back, you swore you felt his thighs quivering a bit.

As soon as Lily was done, Remus was on you, trailing his dick up and down teasingly, making you whimper. He pushed in only the tip; you cried in frustration. “I don’t want to hear your protests, dove. We’re going to stay like this until James comes, so try to be a good girl for him”

You whined, proceeding to hollow your cheeks, your tongue swiping across its head. “Remus, I don’t know if I’ll last that longer for it to be actually frustrating, but I can try”

You took him as far as you could down your throat, gagging slightly. “Oh my God, love, if you keep” You interrupted him, one of your hands going up to his balls, and he was long gone. He released himself into your throat, and you swallowed, looking up at him innocently. “Going to need a fucking minute” He sat against the headboard, watching as Remus entered you with a harsh thrust.

As he changed up the angle, Lily positioned herself right over your face. “Going to sit on your face” You smiled up at her, your hands reaching for her thighs and pulling her against your mouth, making her mewl.

One hand reached out for Sirius, pumping his dick while Remus thrusted into you violently. Your other hand reached up to touch one of Lily’s breasts, pinching her nipple slightly as you sucked on her clit, her taste like honey on your tongue. You felt your legs up in the air, on the werewolf’s shoulders, the position making you let out a scream, muffled by Lily’s core. He pressed down what you later realized was a rose toy on your clit, making you come on his dick, squeezing him impossibly.

Meanwhile, the redhead started grinding on your face, and you lapped up her core, her clit bumping repeatedly on your nose You entered her with two fingers, rubbing at her special spot, the stimulation making her squirt all over you, you lapping her up and working her through it. Remus came with Lily, shooting his seed inside of you.

As Remus strolled away, you thought you’d be done, but there was James, thrusting into you easily, and you felt like it was going to be a little too much.

tags: @sxmnc @peterparkerspersonalplaything @riaaavm @iamawkwardandshy @eeviee4 @mysterialee @famouscrusadeluminary @el1smells @rishofkf @mooonyxoxo @happymaeday @yourfiendlyneighbourspiderman @whyshouldihaveanam3 @amazing-bobinsky @barnesandmetal @just-here-for-ff @sammyreid @remussbitch

#sirius black #james potter #marauders #remus lupin #poly!marauders x reader #lily evans smut #lily evans #sirius x reader #remus x reader #james x reader #lily evans x reader #kinktober 2024

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navybrat817 · 11 months ago

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The Dad Diaries: Checkup

Pairing: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Jamie is a little fussy after his doctor appointment and Bucky continues to admire your strength. Word Count: Over 1.8k Warnings: Fluff, reflecting, first time dad, slight feels (it's me), parenthood, tired parent, shots / needles referenced, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a dad, okay?). A/N: Next part of The Dad Diaries! Hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was in the kitchen rinsing off the dishes from dinner when he heard a wailing cry break through the peaceful evening. He dried his hands and told himself not to rush toward the nursery as all other sounds faded into the background, but his feet moved quickly anyway. His body seemed to move on instinct when it came to you and your son since the two of you were his world. And he would do whatever he could to keep you safe and happy.

Another cry rang out as Bucky got to the hall. Somehow, and it must have either been some form of magic or your motherly instinct to comfort your baby, you beat him to the nursery. “It’s okay, Jamie. Mama's here,” you soothed as you carefully picked your son up and cradled him against your chest. “Shh,” you whispered in his ear, your eyes closing as the cries began to get a little softer.

It broke the former sergeant’s heart a bit each time he heard his son cry. He knew you felt the same way. You were empathetic and protective before you had Jamie, but his cries increased your emotions.

A smile touched Bucky's lips as he observed the two of you, his heart warm and full. The longer you held Jamie, the quieter he became. He curled against you like all he needed was the warmth of your loving embrace. In return, you held him like you had the whole world in your hands.

Love would always show up in the ordinary moments because you made them extraordinary.

As touching as the sight was, Bucky sensed how tired you were. He saw it in the slightly strained smile you gave him when you opened your eyes and the way your body sagged as you swayed back and forth to soothe Jaime. You hadn't gotten nearly enough rest today and completely missed your nap after nursing earlier. That wouldn’t do.

Not on his watch.

“Hey,” Bucky said softly enough to not spook Jamie. “Need me to take him?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ve got him,” you replied as your son gripped your shirt with his tiny hand, a silent message to his dad to let him snuggle with his mom a little bit longer. “He’s just a little fussy.”

Bucky nodded as he walked into the room. The doctor warned them to expect some fussiness over the next couple of days thanks to his appointment. “But he isn’t in any pain?” He asked, hurt flooding his blue eyes just from imagining it.

Your gaze softened as you shook your head. “Not that I can tell,” you said. Both of you were observant when it came to Jamie. You picked up on cues and looked for anything out of the ordinary. “I think he’s okay.”

That helped Bucky breathe a bit easier. “And you’re sure I can't take him so you can get some rest?” He asked, not wanting to push, but also a second away from telling you to sit in the rocking chair. You headed toward it and carefully took a seat before he could open his mouth again, as if you sensed what he was about to say.

“I’ll take a nap in a few minutes,” you promised, giving him another small smile. “I just want to hold him a little bit longer.”

Bucky conceded as he put a blue blanket over both of you. Soft and covered in stars, it would keep you both warm. “I still can't believe how big he’s getting,” he said, brushing a finger along his son's soft cheek.

How was it a month already since he blessed your lives?

“Big and strong,” you said, glancing down with a fond smile before looking up again. “Just like his daddy.”

Bucky’s cheeks tinged from the compliment. “He's strong because of his mommy. And beautiful.”

You fought a yawn, but he saw the happiness in your eyes at his words. “He gets that from both of us.”

Jamie scrunched his face before he nuzzled his head against you with a tiny sound, making the brunette chuckle. “Okay, okay. Enjoy your snuggles with your Mama,” he whispered as he bent down and kissed the top of his son’s soft head. He stilled for a moment as he let his soothing scent wash over him. “I’ll be in my office.”

“Okay. I’ll call for you when I’m done,” you said, shutting your eyes when he kissed the top of your head, too.

He dimmed the lights once he crossed the room, but stopped to look back and observe the tender moment between you two a bit longer. It was picture perfect and had his heart swelling again before he went to his office. His journal awaited him at his desk and he got to work with his latest entry.

Hey, Nugget, You’re currently cuddled up with your mom in the nursery and I don’t blame you for soaking up the snuggles. It was a big day for you! Your one month checkup. I still can’t believe it’s been a month since you came into our lives. It seems like yesterday.

Is it too early to say I want time to slow down?

I'm happy to report that you are on track. Your height and weight are on the charts where they should be. You're hitting the usual milestones, which came as no surprise to me. You are my son after all.

A joke. I'm a little more humble than that. I think you're on track because of your Mama, but she’ll argue and say it’s because of both of us. Either way, the pediatrician didn’t look at all surprised that you were doing well. The receptionist and nurses also fawned over how adorable you are.

Again, you got that from your Mama, even if she says again that you got it from both of us.

Bucky stole a glance at the monitor where you continued to rock Jamie in the chair. He had to smile at the sight. You weren’t quite asleep, but were dangerously close. He’d have to finish up his entry quickly so he could get you to bed.

I’ll be honest. I wasn’t sure about the pediatrician at first. I think he directed most of your questions to your mom since I kept glaring at him. I couldn’t help myself. We did a lot of research to make sure you’d get the best care possible. Even though he’s highly recommended and probably one of the nicest men I’ve ever met in my life, you’re my son and it’s hard to hand you over to someone else to care for you.

Except for your Mama. She is always the exception to the rule.

Bucky let out a breath, gripping the pen a bit tighter.

I knew going into the appointment today that you would have to get a couple of shots. Needles don’t exactly scare me and I knew it was for your own good, but I never hated them until today. I must’ve given the nurse a dirty look, too, because she avoided looking at me and asked your mom to hold you still so she could administer the shots. In fact, I know I glared because your mom elbowed my side and whispered, “Stop that. They’re helping our son.”

You’ll learn later in life that your mom is always right.

I still did my best to stay calm and distract you by making a funny face. I didn't want you to sense that I was worried, but I was because I knew you’d be in pain. And even though the pain would only last for a second, I knew I was powerless to stop it.

At that moment, I was helpless.

He swallowed as he recalled the piercing scream Jamie let out when the needle pricked his thigh. It twisted his gut so painfully that he feared he’d get sick and he had to refrain from taking him away from the nurse. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to the shots or cries with any of the upcoming appointments.

It should come as no surprise that your mom continued to be a pillar of calm and strength as the nurse gave you two shots and applied your band aids. Whereas I was like a wave crashing against the shores in my mind, she was the rock that braved the storm and didn’t budge. She told you how big and strong you were, like me, when she picked you up and your cries eventually stopped as she held you against her chest.

I wonder if it was her voice that calmed you down. It could’ve been her smell. She does smell good. Maybe her touch. Her heartbeat. Probably everything.

We both love her so much.

Bucky wondered if the shots bothered you more than let on. Maybe that was why you were so keen to hold him even though you needed sleep. Maybe you needed the comfort as much as your son did.

As I watched her hold you, it took me a moment to breathe again so I could try and provide some sort of comfort to you. As your father, I want to protect you from the pain of the world. But pain is the body’s warning system to protect us from harm and sometimes inevitable. Today reminded me that I won’t always be able to protect you from it and that I can’t let my negative emotions or fear get in the way of helping you after. It’s another reason why I admire your mother.

She validated your pain, but stayed strong for you because you needed that. It’s something that I’m still learning. It doesn’t make me any less of a good dad because of that. There’s no manual for dealing with these emotions. We just have to figure out how to weather the storm.

Because we’re strong apart, but even stronger together.

“Bucky?” You asked, your voice gently ringing out through the monitor. “It’s your turn.”

He smiled before jotting one more thing down.

And if you’re ever hurting or just need a helping hand, I’ll be there.

Until next time, I love you.

Always,

Dad

Bucky didn’t hesitate to go to the nursery once he finished up to take his son from your arms, a look of understanding passing between the two of you. Parenting was an emotional rollercoaster full of ups and downs and twists and turns. Being a father was one of the hardest jobs he’d ever had, but it was also the most rewarding. He still didn’t really know what he was doing, but he was trying and didn’t have to go through it alone.

And as Jamie leaned into him with you resting close by, that was the best reward he could ask for today.

Bucky is doing a wonderful job. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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cozymoko · 2 years ago

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So what I was thinking was that yuu has been in the manor for awhile, she always sees a locked door that she just can help but be curious about. Whenever she asks about it they tell her to bind her business, one the door was unlocked somehow (maybe someone forgot to lock it again after visiting idk) and she goes in to look and she finds us! The only sister of the Sakamaki family! (If it could be platonic Yandere that would be great) and you can go on from there bc idk what to add or the reactions of everyone would be 🥲 also sorry if this still isn’t any help I’m not sure if this is still confusing

THE SECRET SAKAMAKI

Note: I completely understand, no worries!

PART TWO: here!

Synopsis: Yui finally meets the only sister of the Sakamaki family who has been hidden away by her brothers.

Pairing: Yandere! Sakamaki brothers x platonic! sister reader

Format: Scenario

Word Count: 1.6k

WARNING(S): slight platonic yandere themes.

Want more Diabolik lovers? → Masterlist! ★

Please proceed below the cut.

Only a few weeks had passed since Yui Kamori’s arrival, and she truthfully wanted nothing more than to return home. Where she didn’t have to sleep with one eye open. Her skin ached, practically screaming for salvation after undergoing endless amounts of “punishments'' for even the smallest of actions.

But today, no one was here. At least not at the moment, leaving her to relax until her heart’s content. With that said, the young human teen decided to treat herself to a walk, around the manor of course. After all, she had yet to see even half of the wonders (horrors) that were the Sakamaki household and she was more than just curious.

Door after door: open, close; open, close. It was a never-ending cycle of boredom and disappointment. She had almost given up, concluding that there was truly nothing extraordinary happening behind closed doors. But that was before she saw it. Yui stumbled upon an unfamiliar door with a unique gold plaque just inches above it, serving as its most noticeable dissimilarity from the others.

The door was nothing special. It was wooden with gleaming gold imprinting smoothed between every crevice. But it stood out nonetheless. Yui slowly dragged her eyes along its surface, taking in its somewhat feminine appearance. Above it rested a large golden panel, inhabited by intricate calligraphy neatly engraved into its exterior; reading “Our treasure: [Name]”

Yui reached out, allowing her fingertips to subtly graze the cool doorknob, mere moments away from twisting it open…

“You know, it's really impolite to go snooping around someone else’s home, little bitch~!” The sound of Laito’s voice nearly made her jump out of her skin. His tone was light but lacked the playfulness it tried so desperately to convey. “Allow me to escort you back to your room, fufu~.”

Reluctantly, she followed, allowing the vampire to steer her further and further from the mysterious door; then down the hall, and back to her room. Her newfound curiosity outweighed her feeling of fear, despite Laito’s troublesome grip on her arm.

And she couldn’t help but wonder…

Just what was behind that door? Who is [Name]?

So the next day she tried her luck once more. Swiftly abandoning the security of her room, Yui proceeded down the dimly lit hallway. With the door close in sight, she noticed hushed whispers growing more audible by the second. Lo and behold, it was Kanato.

His pale cheek pressed flush against the door's wooden frame, sweet yet borderline obsessive affirmations spilling from his thin lips. Yui assumed he was talking to himself, as far-fetched as it seemed. Though she wouldn't put it past Kanato of all people.

That's when she heard it. The faintest voice reached her ears, it was feminine and loving; and very clearly a blessing to Kanato's ears. She was sure he was ready to squeal with joy if not for the very slim amount of dignity he retained. Never had she seen him happier.

A small smile pulled at the corners of her lips and before she knew it she was staring fondly at the scene. It wasn't every day she saw those sadistic men act so sweet and vulnerable, even if it was a little odd. Her dazed state didn't go unnoticed, unfortunately, as lilac hues met her soft rosy ones.

“You—?!” The vampire practically screeched, trudging down the hallway towards the human girl. “Just how much did you hear?”

Let's just say she was left with more than just a few bruises, poor girl.

The next day Yui ventured down that same vacant hallway. The old floorboards threatened to groan under her weight as she approached that same door that haunted her dreams.

“Haah…You really are a troublesome woman,” Yui jumped, startled. At her side lies a familiar champagne-haired man, tired and less than amused by her appearance. “This room is off-limits for brides. Even so, I've never met one as nosey as you. Leave while you can.”

The girl was stunned, shaking like a leaf. When did Shu get here? Why was he here? Her suspicions were creeping up on her like an unruly wave threatening to sweep her under any moment. At that moment she had finally realized, It wasn't just a door.

I think.

But of course, curiosity killed the cat.

Having grown tired of being caught, tied up, and punished time and time again Yui tried a distant approach; she had no choice. Her fair skin had grown battered and bruised, adorned by more lacerations and pricks than she could count. So as one does, she took her chances and decided to confide in Reiji.

Entering his room, Yui politely took a seat across from the man at a polished deep oak wood table. Accompanied by freshly brewed tea set evenly between the two. “Reiji,” Yui commenced, though her words came as an airy puff as her nerves threatened to tear through her light bravery. “I…I've been curious about something as of lately. A door in particular,”

His red eyes narrowed significantly, “Go on.”

“All the guys have been acting kind of strange lately every time I get close to it and—”

A firm hand made contact with her chest, successfully knocking the wind right out of her, slamming her into the harsh cushioning that lined the leather sofa. “Enough; That is none of your concern, you are merely a living blood bag,” He sighed, sending her a menacing glare. “Don't allow your curiosity to push you to do unnecessary things. If you disrupt the peace of those I hold dear to me I shall punish you personally, do you understand?”

The mortal nodded and swallowed sharply, briskly maneuvering from the vampires prying gaze. And much to her surprise, he allowed it. Yui rushed to the door before slipping through its slight opening, down the hall, and then back to her room once more.

Someone Reiji cared for was behind that door, and from the looks of it, there was no way it was one of his brothers. So who?

No matter, at that point, Yui had given up. She was scared shitless, not wanting to undergo any more torture than she already was. She had a sneaking suspicion that the brothers were slowly losing their patience with her and she didn't want to be there to experience the consequences.

So the next few days were carried out like any other. Today she was spending her time with a certain redhead, mindlessly listening to his narcissistic rambles. As they turned down a familiar hallway, she glanced to the man at her side. Ayato walked past the door without a care in the world and made her start to second guess herself.

Perhaps her gaze lingered on the door for a second too long, for a certain redhead had noticed her delayed footsteps. “Oi, pancake what the hell are yo-?” He paused, his face growing visibly sour as he followed her eyes. “...Looking at.”

He scoffed, gripping tightly onto her frail wrist. From the looks of it, he was not pleased.

“The last thing I need is for more competition, those five assholes are more than enough.”

His hushed grumbles were like sirens to Yui's ears, igniting the dying flame of determination in her chest. That was all she needed to hear as nothing from that point on could prove her suspicions false. There was definitely someone behind that door.

However, it seemed her luck had already run out.

Until one fateful day at least.

A sliver in the door, so small it was almost unnoticeable. Feeling some sense of urgency the girl jumped to her feet, making a straight beeline to the wooden door before slamming it behind her. The subtle sound of someone clearing their throat dragged her from her internal celebration.

The woman looked to be no older than sixteen, but she knew better than to believe she was any younger. Her silky hair was tied neatly out of her face, with very little makeup brushing her features. An extravagant rococo-styled dress fell to her ankles as she busied herself with a thick novel. Only when she met her eyes did Yui notice the resemblance the woman shared with the brothers.

“A mortal girl,” The woman said, almost matter-of-factly. “You must be the sacrificial bride, correct? Yui Kamori, I presume.”

She nodded, so slowly that she seemed unsure, causing a jovial laugh to slip through the beautiful woman's painted lips.

“I see…you’re not much of a talker, are you?” The woman smiled politely before closing the book that rested in her hands, lazily tracing small circles into its cover. “No matter. Answer me this, how did you get in here? Subaru must've forgotten to close it, he's in here quite often, after all, he's such a big baby.”

“Wha…What?”

“That door is never open so I think you know what I’m hinting at.” The physically younger woman leaned toward the mortal girl, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “As for Subaru, I'm a little bit older than him so he tends to cling to me like his life depends on it!”

Yui gave her a look of blatant confusion, hardly catching onto whatever the young vampire was spewing out. “Hm, you look a bit confused and clueless, let me help you.” The woman smiled, whispering her rude comment dismissively “Do you even know why I’m in here?”

Yui shook her head, ignoring the anxiety gnawing away at her composure. Gradually shying away from the woman's attention as she hugged her sides.

“Oh my, then this should be a real treat.” She giggled, gazing fondly at the frightened girl. “Now, Yui Kamori, allow me, [Name] Sakamaki to tell you a tale of endless obsession!”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀—いつも、いつまでも♡

#—🍁#x reader #platonic yandere #diabolik lovers headcanons #diabolik lovers scenarios #diabolik lovers imagines #diaboys #shu sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #laito sakamaki #subaru sakamaki #diabolik lovers x reader #yandere diabolik lovers

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trashmouth-richie · 2 years ago

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older! eddie x fem! reader

summary: when your bf skips town /‘s you can’t pay your rent, you put on your best outfit and knock on your landlord’s door begging for forgiveness

@eddiemunsons-missingnipple for the Eddie edit

w/c: 3.8k

t/w: 18+ ONLY —heavy smut, degrading, hair pulling, mouth fucking, choking, edging, switch!, daddy!kink

He was an asshole to extraordinary proportions. A life full of mold covered lemons would do that to a person. You were nervous, to approach him. But something told you he’d hear you out— listen to you. Maybe even be sympathetic to your pleads.

Yeah right.

As if he were made of anything but pure hatred. Toxicity swirled in his veins, his poisoned skin covered by decades worth of tattoos; all dark and sharp edged.

His peppered scruff balanced out his naturally soft eyes. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. A scowl that would make any resident of Forest Hills Trailer Park think twice about crossing. But you were left with no choice. When Trey had ditched town with the human bicycle Chrissy Cunningham, you were short on rent. Bills were tight, and you often ate in the dark, or by candle light. Anything to save a bit of money.

And that’s what led you here. Standing at your landlord’s door. Putting on an extra swipe of lipgloss, making sure to curl your hair, and wear a low cut tank top, the only push up bra you owned, and some cheap lashes from the mall— you knocked politely on the sun faded door. Hoping for some sort of a miracle that Mr. Munson would take pity on you.

One knock. Nothing.

Another. Still nothing.

It’s not until you are slapping your hand into the door that a voice behind you startles you nearly out of your too short skirt.

“What’d’ya need?” He’s covered in motor oil and grease, standing below you on the dirt and sparse grass covered ground, wiping his hands on a once red rag, a ring of sweat around his white tank top, bandana wrapped around his head, cigarette hanging gingerly from his slack lips.

He remembers the day you had moved in, it was freezing cold in early February. All by yourself, moving things one at a time in a shitty old Buick he hadn’t seen around since his high school days. He wanted to offer his help, something he didn’t give to anyone. But something about the way you smiled as he showed you around the dingy shithole of a trailer, voicing your opinions on what could be spruced up, made him hate you a little bit less.

Everyone in the park knew not to bother Eddie. He was a grumpy, mean son of a bitch and his patience was rail fucking thin. The Johnson’s dog went missing? No shit, he was the one who called animal control to come and pick it up, fucker had fleas and probably rabies. Can I paint the kitchen? Fuck no. The sink isn’t working at lot 8. Call a mechanic. And just for the annoyance he upped their rent $100.

Seeing you on his steps, dressed like that, sparkly tits, and your bra showing through your tank top had his dick twitching in his pants. Of course you were a smoke show, and he was honestly surprised to hear that ol’ what’s his face ran out on you with Chrissy Cuntingham. Her shit had been rode hard and put away wet more times that could be accounted for. Bitch still wore her homecoming tiara and had her green and orange pom poms in the back window of her car— despite the fact that graduation was more than 25 years ago. Worse than an alleycat, and smelling like one, Chrissy mostly kept herself busy by buying the minors alcohol or showing her many “party tricks” to the bachelors of the park. Sitting on his porch, smoking a joint like he did every night, Eddie took note of the black jeep that showed up every Thursday outside trailer 6, a graying head of suave douche boy hair could only be one person, Jason Carver.

He took note that your trailer, right next to his, was full of screaming and yelling when your boyfriend was home. A noise all too familiar in the trailer park, bouncing off Eddie’s ears like birds chirping.

But when he was gone? The window to your bedroom would be cracked open ever so slightly, propped open with the soft cover of Stephen King’s IT. The kitten purr of a vibrator and your delicate moans sang out to him. A siren amongst lonely fishermen, calling out to them in song of entrapment only to eat their souls, bodies never found amongst the dark sea bed. At first he thought it was wrong to listen, wrong to hear your pleasuring yourself, but he had sworn he heard his name on your lips, more than once. Fisting his cock angrily to your voice, your wet mouth, swollen lips from him sucking on them, pretty little pussy aching for him. He didn’t need playboys anymore when he had your face to imagine. And imagine he had.

What would your sweet pussy look like wrapped around his cock? Would you swallow his load down your throat if he asked, demanded you to? Sweet thing like you wouldn’t have to worry about anything if you were his. The choked laugh after he finishes all over his hand makes him shake his head at the idea. He didn’t know your age, old enough to be on your own but definitely not 45 like he was. Visions of your sugar plum tits bouncing in his face as you rode him on the itchy couch in his living room, lulled him to sleep most nights.

He saw a peek of a tattoo on your side when you were hanging clothes on the line. Your body drove him in, his eyes melting around your curves, the swell of your ass in the jean cut off shorts you wore. When you saw him staring you waved him over, a devilish grin on your lips, a wanting sparkle in your eye.

He knew your type, trouble. And oh fuck the trouble he would love to be in. He’d never volunteered to fix anyone's appliances. But your silky saccharine voice had him calling a mechanic in a few days time, would have been sooner if he could have tore his eyes away from your tanned legs, but he kept those extra days all to himself, whimpering at night with a sore cock your name on his breath. It had been seven months of you living next door, your vibrator turned on like clockwork every day your boyfriend left for work.

And now here you are. Looking at him with “fuck me” eyes and a glossy smile on your lips. Those same lips purring out pleasantries about how fuck face left you and you were needing an extension on rent. The swell of the summer sun hit your cheeks, making you glow like some love sick angel on his steps. He was fucked. And soon— you would be too.

“So what?” He tried to gamble, tried to keep his hard facade, “an extension and then what’s next? You’re gonna tell all your little friends that I give hand outs to the needy? Oh no doll, not today.”

He pushes his way around you and into his trailer, the pungent smell of too strong incense burns your nostrils as you hold the door from him shutting it.

“Please, Mr. Muns—.”

“Eddie,” he grumbles.

“Eddie, please— I’m begging you,” the glimmer of a tear welling in your eyes, your voice dipping low into an almost whisper as you made your way inside, shutting the door behind your back and feeling around for the lock, “I’ll do anything.”

Eyes dripping of sex appeal and lust, you tip your tongue to the center of your top lip, eyeing his tightened jeans and you swear you see his dick twitch beneath the stretched denim.

Cock at full alert he shakes his head, his head dipped low and eyeing you up and down, lip bit between his teeth. A low groan in his throat, he talks in a gritting whisper, “Don’t start something you can’t finish sweetheart.”

“Oh I plan on finishing, big boy,” you hum walking towards him, devilish grin planted on your lips, “I don’t think we’ll have a problem with that, will we daddy?”

Fuck. Not even touching you yet and Eddie is rock hard, he could probably cum if you asked him to. Thanking a higher power that he wasn’t twenty anymore, he’s got years of stamina built under his worn leather belt. “You’re about to write a check your ass can’t cash doll, you sure this is what you want?”

“stop talking,” you breath, inches from his lips, he can taste the peach flavored lipgloss on his tongue, “and fuck me.”

Not needing any more of an okay than that, Eddie turns you around in a swift motion, a gasp escapes your lungs and he catches you before you stumble over your heels. He drags your hips down into him, your ass round and luscious on his stiffened length. He rips the neck of your tank top open exposing the mountainous swell of your chest and your cheap K-Mart bra. Pinching your laced nipples between his rough fingers, he rolls them like joints as his hot mouth assaults your neck, painting you, he sucks bruises into your neck, licking them better with tiny flicks of his satanic tongue and ending in a bite, marking you as his.

Pushing your ass into him you can feel his cock. His achingly girthy length has you soaking your panties, dripping wet just for him. His smokey smell is mixed with sweat as you angle your neck back against his shoulder, moaning into him as he sucks like a vampire into your neck. His stubble rubbing against your skin.

“Eddie,” you moan breathless into the humid air of his trailer.

He groans, your body pushed tight against him has his head spinning, drunk off your touch. Grabbing your skirt and yanking upward. Dripping in anticipation, your panties could be wrung out, your arousal pooling from the center and beading slowly to the ground. He hisses and hums when his finger first skates along the slick of your panties with a schlick, “fuck, all this for me doll?” He’s playing now, his thick fingers moving in lazy circles around your clit, your creamy pussy clenching desperately on nothing, you nod with a whimper.

“You gonna make all those pretty little noises I hear from your window once that dumbass you let fuck you leaves the house every day? Hmm? Didn’t think I could hear did you?” His cocky bravado kicks his cock up on your ass, sending a moan through your body as you rub deeper into him.

Quite the opposite actually

Purring into his neck you lick the expanse of skin he’s showcasing. Blowing hot on the slicked spit from your tongue, you rotate your hips to angle his fingers better on your clit, the sensitivity rolling like an electric current through your veins.

“I did it on purpose,” you confess breathlessly as Eddie’s fingers stop. “Watching you stare at me for months, I knew you’d touch yourself over me.”

Eddie groans gutturally twisting your body into the front door, back hitting the broken shades with a thud. In milliseconds he is on you, hot tongue lapping up your neck and biting with enough force to break skin. No time to be patient to have you undress for him, he shoves your skirt up tipping your panties clean off. Your exposed pussy shuddering with his blown breath on your slick core. His devilish eager tongue expertly licks and teases your clit. Humming with each jerk of your body as the sensitivity makes you squirm. Tongue wiggling inside of you like an eel, your hands are gripping his hair for dear life, yanking at the roots like you’re pulling weeds. Your thigh is on his shoulder, the leg on the ground begins to shake as your first orgasm rips like a tidal wave through you. Head thrown back against the door, moaning loud enough for the entire park to hear— you don’t care.

Your noises stir Eddie’s arousal even more. Whimpering as he grip him impossibly tighter he a broken, “fuck,” into your folds as he goes back for seconds, “you’re gonna get me into trouble, pussy so fucking sweet.” His lips are wet, your arrival shining like pretty lipgloss allover hos chin and lips. Already spent from the teasing and the damn breaking, Eddie hikes you up over his shoulder, your bare volumtuous ass bouncing with every step. He throws you onto a king sized bed, unmade and reeking of weed. Rolling papers on the night stand along with several lighters you aren’t given much time before Eddie kicks his jeans off, boxer briefs do him justice as his cock jumps to his belly when he unthreads his legs from them. Pearly beads of pre cup drip from the thick head.

Eddie leans forward and places a thick hand on your neck, your vision blurs and returns with each grip he threatens and releases his teeth biting your lips, slow drops of blood seep from his bites, he licks the wounds clean.

“Havent used rubbers since the 80’s and I won’t, so are you on the pill or are we ending this right now?”

“Pill,” you warble, chords of your neck strained against his hand.

“Thatta girl,” he praises, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, “I’m gonna fill you up full with my cum you’ll be leaking it out for hours.. maybe days.”

Tears sting your eyes at the thought of his glorious pearly cum deep in your walls painting them pretty, “please daddy, I need it.”

Eddie grins, “so needy baby, you want this cock?” he asks, flicking it through your folds, a noise resembling macaroni and cheese is blasts from your core, he groans deep, “so fucking wet,” his lip is almost bit in half with how he’s trying to hide his excitement, “I’m gonna wreck this sweet pussy so you won’t be able to walk home.”

Whimpering like a bitch in heat, Eddie flips you over, angles your ass up, slapping each cheek hard enough a red hand print sized welt develops almost immediately, he pushes all of himself into you, bottoming out as you moan and cry thanking God in your head as you’re split open, a welcomed pain. Spit soaks his sheets from your mouth when he pulls out, “oh you can take it, honey, don’t fucking quit on me.”

“I’m n—,” gasping loudly when he spits harshly on your ass. Rubbing his thumb against the pink button. The new sensation brings color to your closed eyes, stars and shapes of all size float in your closed mind, your pussy clenched harder around Eddie as you whine his name.

“Yeah?” Eddie moans, “told you daddy would take care of you, that needle dick can’t make you feel like this can he?”

you try to choke out a ‘no’ but no noise comes out, your head is thrown back violently as Eddie grabs your hair in one hand and pounds mercilessly into you.

Eddie is grunting with each slap of his heavy sack against your clit, “this is what you came here for right? Bad girl can’t pay her rent so she came to fuck the owner in exchange?” His taunting only makes you wetter, makes you clench his harder as you come undone for the second time. Screaming his name until you’re breathless. Panting and sweating like you ran a marathon. He gives you one more deep thrust of his hips and watches you fall forward.

“Look at the mess you made you little whore,” Eddie spits, venom laced words on that glory filled tongue, as he drags you by your hair to look at his soaked cock, “lick it up, want you to know how fucking sweet you taste.”

Eddie flips you over like a rag doll, positioning you the way he wants. Head dangling off the mattress, Eddie groans as he jams his cock into your throat, holding it there and choking you simultaneously. He reached to the night stand and grabs a black small vibrator placing it on your clit. The vibrations make you moan and choke around his length and against his hand. Eyelids fluttering shut you’re positive you can’t breathe, just when you’re about to pass out he brings you back, letting you breathe for a few seconds, chuckling to himself as you enter the hazy bliss of intoxicating euphoria. Your body convulses under his. Begging for a third orgasm, you can taste the earthy tang of your release and Eddie’s pre cum mix on your tongue.

His girth fills your throat completely, barely leaving room for your own tongue in your mouth. He’s dripping sweat onto your own body you can feel it slip from your belly button down into the curve of your neck. Eddie's hair is swaying in conjuncture with his hips slamming home against your face. Using your mouth like his own fist has you soaking the sheets, clit over stimulated, a deep bruise settling inside the soft silk of your velvet folds. A bruise you’d wear proudly for weeks to come.

Slapping your face as you gag lightly, mind steadily focusing on the jerking of your legs and the vibrating pulse of your cunt. Eddie shushes you reassuring you, tauntingly “someone too big for their britches huh? Work through it, sweetheart— that’s it, fuck good girl,” he chokes a whimper down his own throat as your tongue swirls around him. “Christ, swallowing what I give you, such a good girl for daddy.” Eddie thrusts one more deep cant of his hips into your mouth groaning deeply when you hollow your cheeks. Letting you breathe freely.

“You like that? Like me using you like a worthless fucking toy?” Eddie lifts you up to his face by your hair, kissing your lips delicately, you nod and whimper as he harshly sucks and nips at your neck leaving purpling marks in his wake.

Unabashedly you scratch your long nails into his chest, leaving your own mark on him as he groans against your skin. “My turn,” you whisper as you crawl into a standing position in front of him. Kissing him sweetly and pulling his bottom lip between your teeth, he whimpers at your touch. A tantalizing smile radiates across your lips. Eddie Munson a switch? Who knew? Pushing his shoulders backwards he falls on the bed, curtains of curls cascade around him and his face is turned up in shock then to a satanic grin.

Wiggling your tight skirt down your body you stand in only your heels.

“Fuck, you are a goddess.” Eddie groans, stroking his thick length in slow rhythmic motions as he stares at your body shamelessly, you climb towards him on his messy sheets between his legs your poor abused throat sore and bruised from his animalistic fucking.

His chest is littered with tattoos both old and new, faded and blown out lines mixed amongst sharp edged fresh ones stark against his pale skin. Blistering red lines decorate him from your nails earlier. Knees on either side of his hips you slot your pussy lips against his needy thick cock, sliding forward and back again, your hands on his chest for leverage. Leaning up on his elbows and moving you both backwards so he can rest his back against the headboard, he scants forward to kiss you but you push his forehead away dumbly.

Tsking and using few words to speak with a hoarse voice you whisper, “no touching.” Grinding your hips down into him, pocketing his cock in your slick folds like a sword in a sheath, you lick a stripe up his neck and land at this ear, your pretty moans singing to him like a demon seeking a naive victim. His hips jump with each roll of your own, desperate for relief he whimpers and whines as he’s close and you retreat. Starting all over again. After the third go around his bangs are stuck to his forehead, cheeks warm with a frustrated, worked up blush as you edge him again and again.

“Mmm’ fuck that’s a good cock daddy,” you moan as you come hard on his cock again making a mess yet again, he groans as you milk him for all he’s worth, your creamy pussy clenching against him, and your denial of his release is too much for him. “you wanna come for me?”

Eddie nods in spent anticipation, practically tearing up from being so worked up and being able to release himself. “Please— I can’t,” he groans, as you start grinding on him again, only this time you give in, hugging him in a pinky sheath of gummy walls and slick floors. “Christ,” he melts as you bounce atop his cock, dragging your hips backward and forward helping him hit the spot you so desperately craved from him. His thick hands are on your hips moving you to his liking, a pebbled nipple in his mouth makes you cry out his name as he pumps into you holding you still.

He slaps your ass, “I’m gonna come, shit, fuck!” He hums your name as hot ropes of his thick release coats your walls and floods out you don’t stop riding him, coaxing every last drop out of him until he’s hissing through his teeth as his softened length falls out of you, hot, reddened and aching.

Eddie pulls you to him, kissing your neck and scooting you both down the bed. “Think you’re my favorite tenant,” he laughs as you lay motionless on top of him, both breathing heavily.

“Jesus, I’d hope so, but maybe Miss Richard’s comes over here to get some money knocked off her rent,” you tease, tracing circles into his spotty chest hair, “heard she’s real pretty in her nightgown, just gotta be careful of her poligrip.”

He laughs again, smacking your ass, “you’re a fuckin’ brat y’know that?”

“And you’re a filthy fucker, quite the pair I’d say,” you spit before biting his chest.

Eddie yanks you by your hair to look you in the eyes, “not every day a pretty baby like you comes knocking on my door to rattle my cage and get free rent. But I’d like if you came over more often, that attitude needs adjusting.”

“oh really?” you question, hand under your chin like you’re bored as you roll your eyes, “and your old ass is gonna be the one to tame me huh?”

You spend a greater part of the night bent over Eddie’s knee, his studded belt in his hand as he whips you again and again. Tears spill from your eyes, and coat his thighs. Eddie’s sadistic ass only grins, a joint hanging limply from his lips, shushing you softly, “don’t cry honey, I told you your ass wouldn’t be able to cash that check.”

👅 I’m gonna go touch grass now

#eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #older!eddie #mean!eddie munson #daddy!eddie munson #landlord! eddie

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neiptune · 1 year ago

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always for the first time

c/w: 1.2k wc, reader is deep in her head, gojo is stupidly in love & wants nothing more than to be the best boyfriend on planet earth, sickeningly sweet, disgustingly self indulgent, inspired by andré breton's poem, wrote this in like 10 minutes, reader discretion advised: you'll drown in fluff

Life has been brutal in teaching Satoru the consequences of not picking up on things in time and with that now comes the anxiety of missing out on hints, small details, imperceptible signals.

He is a good learner, although he wasn’t ready for what you had in store for him. He can be too much, always has been too much, people have told him. Too strong, too loud, too obnoxious, too dumb. He didn’t know how to juggle his worst traits and keep them under control around you, has never wanted not to scare someone away so bad.

Satoru is also, and most importantly, a keen observer.

He has to be, not only to watch his back every now and again but also to pick up on more subtle things that could escape a less trained eye. You are one of those things.

He has studied you, mapped out every twitch of your lips or crease between eyebrows, he has memorized the heaviness of your sighs and which limits it’s best not to push. He knows you need your space and that some people don’t appreciate how overwhelming his interest in them can be. Because what if his insistence ends up crushing them? What if he cares so much you eventually drift away?

So Satoru knows when to keep quiet, when to leave you be or wrap his arms around your waist to bury a gentle kiss in your hair. You have taught him that he doesn’t have to prove his presence all the time, a broken record of I’m here, don’t you know that I’m here for you?

You know. His presence is embedded in every aspect of your life, in every soft thought crossing your mind. He’s there when he lies on top of you in bed, infinity turned off for good measure, cheek pressed to your stomach and arms wrapped around your frame in a petulant attempt to convince you to stay five more minutes. He’s there when he gets back early from a mission and you come home to the tall, familiar figure making a mess of your kitchen. I had half an hour to spare and I thought you’d like soup.

Satoru sees the flow of individual atoms that make you, you. Which means that he knows when you’re in pain, feels your sadness creeping up into his very bones, only experiences true fear the first time you bury your face into his chest and your body shakes in his arms, consumed by the terror of not seeing him again. Satoru is not scared because he thinks the thought of something happening to him is even remotely rational, it’s the thought of leaving you without him for a second too long that petrifies him.

He’s there when he looks at you and sees everything there’s to see, the good and so much of the bad. Satoru has eyes that grant him extraordinary perception and cause a constant, exhausting influx of information. But he can now see you as well as he sees cursed energy: the flux of excitement, sadness, rage or embarrassment. He sees how big your heart is and yet deems it not nearly large enough to contain the love you have for him and for others, threatening to bubble over at all times.

He sees your shame and insecurities and how desperately you attempt to keep those from him. Sometimes he forces himself to respect it, other times it’s hard not to at least attempt to work his charm.

You could get mad but he can’t risk skipping the chance of reminding you once more that he’s there. Just in case. He’s there.

“What’s up?” he asks nonchalantly, nose still buried in that book you couldn’t stop talking about for an entire week.

“Nothing’s up. If something was up, you’d know first” your grin is charming although a little forced and when you go back to the cooking show you’re watching on television, Satoru lets a few seconds pass.

“I think something’s up”

You sigh. He’s not even looking at you but you feel the wary concern vibrating in his voice.

“I’m okay” your own pitch gets softer, a gentle reminder that there’s nothing to really worry about. It’s just that your mind can get very loud at times, but that’s not to become another one of his battles. He has enough of those already.

But that’s when he puts the novel down, a bunch of dried lavender twigs used as a makeshift bookmark.

“I can see that” he knows the punchline will always make you roll your eyes with fondness, especially if he has his blindfold on “your limbs are still attached, your hair looks pretty, skin is fairly hydrated” you huff out a laugh as he crawls over you only to slump his long, inconveniently heavy body on top of yours.

“But something’s wrong” he whispers it into your skin, hopes that it’s easier to get you to open up if you can’t see him and think he can see less of you. His lips are pressed to your neck and snowy hair tickles your chin, so you attempt to comb some of it back with a light scoff.

“You currently obstructing my airways?”

He lightly pinches your side and you squirm underneath his weight with an airy giggle.

“Stop doing that”

“Doing what?” you flick his forehead but he doesn’t even flinch.

“Deflecting. Something’s wrong, I can feel it”

Satoru wishes he didn’t sound every bit as pathetic as he did. But he’s made peace with the fact that this is what love does to him a long time ago. He’s in love, and pathetic, and simply prays it’s one of the times he’s lucky enough you’ll give him the green light to make a breach in the walls.

“You can feel it?” you muse “what are you, obsessed with me or somethin’?”

“I am” he lightly nips at your jaw and draws a gasp “what a stupid question”

As obsessed as an invincible man can be, one that spends each day hoping he’ll be allowed to gain yet another victory over the ache throbbing in your ribcage. What good is being the strongest if he’s barely allowed to shield you from yourself?

“I’m just tired” you articulate the words slowly, attentively, and your heart swells in your chest when he instantly stills his movements “it’s a tiring day. I’ll be fine”

And Gojo hums against the warmth of your skin, tightens his arms around you. Of course you’ll be fine, he’ll be there to make sure you will be. Not that you need him to fight your battles, you never needed him in the first place.

“Thank you” for making this one of the moments I’m allowed to climb over those walls, even if just to take a small peek.

“You’re so silly” you smile and don’t even understand how the hell someone could get so lucky.

“S’why you love me”

“Wrong, I love you because of your pretty face and remarkable abs”

“I’m more than a nice piece of ass, y’know?”

Another silent laugh fills the air, now lighter, and you can already feel his smile as you gently pull his blindfold down. Satoru lets you, lifts his face to make your job a little easier and when his eyes slowly flutter open there’s nothing but sincere adoration swirling in them. There’s trust, and love, and you can’t help but force them shut again as you gently press your lips to both his eyeslids.

To tell him that you love him with just as much fierceness, with every fragment of your flawed, human body.

To thank him for seeing you with such earth shattering clarity, always for the first time.

#gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jjk x reader #please be nice it's only my second time writing fully for him #and I must confess angst gets me going more than fluff #anyways #I'd love feedback!!

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the-ineffable-dance · 7 months ago

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In this post, I took a look at the beginning of the Final Fifteen and how Aziraphale's walk back to the bookshop is not the look of an excited or happy angel... instead, it looks like he's upset and desperately making a plan. Whelp, it's time for the next step of the heartbreak that is the Final Fifteen... Aziraphale's dance.

The first thing that happens when Aziraphale enters the bookshop is Nina and Maggie head out from their chat with Crowley. We follow them out, and the camera leaves them and joins the Metatron as he approaches Muriel on the patio reading a book. He checks in on her, and then straightens up, turning around. This gives him the perfect vantage point to stare straight into the bookshop window right at where our angel and demon are talking.

As you can see in the gif above, Aziraphale can see him from where he's standing. Before he even looks at Crowley, he sees the Metatron through the window.

Crowely starts his confession. He doesn't get very far... but really, he doesn't need to. These are two beings who know each other so well they can tell by tone of voice how the other is feeling. And Aziraphale knows just from the tone what Crowley is trying to say. There's a reason that it's taken them 6000 years to say how they feel... it's dangerous. It was never an unnecessary fear on their part, it was a very real and very present danger. And now, Crowley is about to say all the things that Aziraphale wants to hear, and the danger IS STARING AT THEM THROUGH THE WINDOW.

He hasn't even really looked at Crowley yet... heard the tone that Crowley was using, and looking out the window... Yep! Metatron, right there. Note his hands. Up and down. I didn't watch all of Extraordinary Attorney Woo for nothing! Those are "woah woah" hands. Like, stop talking, stop talking, STOP TALKING.

When he finally does look at Crowley, that's not a happy face. Not the face of someone that's finally hearing the confession they've been longing for for millennia. Michael Sheen has given Aziraphale the most endearing heart eyes throughout season 2...

But no heart eyes here? If everything went great with the Metatron and Aziraphale is completely on board with returning to Heaven with Crowley by his side, why in the world would he interrupt this moment? Letting Crowley profess his love would only strengthen Aziraphale's push to stay together. It is "Incredibly good news" after all. No, things did NOT go well with the Metatron, and they are in trouble. And so, Aziraphale is starting to panic. Crowley isn't paying attention to the "shush" hands, or his repeated looks out the window, so the only thing left is to interrupt. Aziraphale's bumbling rush to cut Crowley off feels a lot like "I can't let you continue so you don't incriminate yourself."

SO!! Azi jumps in with his version of his conversation with the Metatron. The "Good News" - "I... (mouth working furiously without sound)... the Metatron..." I don't think it's 'normal Aziraphale stutter' in the moment between those two words. There are plenty of times when Azi gets a little tongue tied when he's too excited (either due to lying OR trying to impress Crowley). But usually when he does that, he looks up and to the left. Instead, this time he makes eye contact with Crowley and does not look away. If you look closely, I'm nearly certain that he mouths the words "We Need Help."

What convinces me of this even more is that Crowley begins to watch him very intently. He's frustrated... certainly! But he doesn't fall into their normal banter. No quips, no growling at being cut off, no gentle arguing. He can absolutely tell from Aziraphale's tone that this is his "Something's Wrong Voice" and instantly listens.

Then the full dance begins. Aziraphale does begin his normal stutter with the wandering hands... he's trying to not say the wrong thing here and make their situation worse while still being convincing that he's going along with what the Metatron wanted.

Crowley tries to play along... until the offer to become an angel again comes up. I don't think that Aziraphale knows just how painful that concept is for Crowley. And with good reason, because I highly doubt that Crowley has been honest with him about it. Aziraphale loves Crowley for ALL that he is, but since he doesn't know how hurtful this will be, he just blunders right into the offer.

Crowley is so hurt? (Offended? Enraged?) by the concept of becoming an angel again, that he can't keep up the dance they've been putting on for the Metatron. In fact, he immediately fires off "And you told him just where he could stick it then." It's not actually a question for Aziraphale... He knows they're being listened to. He's directly telling the Metatron where he can stick it. "We're better than that" = "We're better than YOU (Metatron)"

And we watch the smile fall from Aziraphale's face. IMO, there is no question that Aziraphale suffers from CPTSD. People (and people shaped beings) with CPTSD can have a very hard time when there is a sudden, unexpected emotional response to something they've done or said. He thought they were on the same page, and suddenly Crowley isn't playing along, and he's angry. Furious. And Aziraphale falls back on old habits as he tries to regain his footing... thus, the unfortunate comment of "You're the bad guys." It's a terrible thing to say. And I'm not trying to excuse Azi for saying it... but it was a trauma response to an unexpected situation.

"Tell me you said no!" "If I'm in charge, I can make a difference."

The dance is over... these lines are not for the Metatron's benefit, or anyone else's. This is real. Crowley wants Aziraphale to say no to the Metatron, regardless of the situation. Aziraphale thinks he can only thwart the Metatron/ protect Crowley and the world by going to Heaven.

Ouch my heart! Onward to Crowley's confession (and possibly a post about the prologue to this heartache and the conversation between Azi and Metatrash)

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #good omens meta #the final fifteen #the metatron is listening #poor crowley just can't play along any more #aziraphale loves crowley and will do anything to keep him safe

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xenteaart · 6 months ago

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contemplating mediocrity

pairing: idol!chan x reader (gn but written with f!reader in mind) word count: 0,9k genre/warnings: er, hurt to comfort, use of "baby", self-doubt, honestly not much else, pretty pg-13 author's note: heavily inspired by @withleeknow 's last seungmin fic, i couldn't handle the angst and needed to comfort myself fkdjfkdjfk. also it kinda made me reflect on why it hurt so bad so i guess this fic is a little support and comfort thingy for everyone who might not be feeling "enough". before reading you might wanna check out the inspo fic itself <3

“baby? what’s wrong?”

ah, he’s always too quick to notice.

you take your eyes off the laptop and put a video of 3racha’s festival performance on pause.

“nothing. you guys did a wonderful job, truly. ’m just… contemplating my mediocrity.”

“what?” he’s more just taken aback than anything else but you read it as irritation.

it’s one of those days when everything feels extra sensitive, even the things you can deal with well on a regular day.

“what? chris, baby, i’m not being self-deprecating, it’s just a fact. i truly could not be more proud of you, but sometimes i just can’t shake off the feeling of not doing enough compared to you.

it warms my heart to know that you are so so loved and respected, it really does. but, i guess.. it’s a little humbling too? i haven’t achieved anything nearly as grand and i don’t have thousands of people cheering for me after i do as much as breathe. which you totally deserve, by the way, i’m not saying you don’t.”

long silence follows as chris frowns, carefully crafting his next response while you’re already starting to regret you opened your mouth at all. maybe, some things should be kept to yourself. maybe, it’s not really necessary to share every dark thought that comes to your pained mind after midnight. maybe, it’s safer for your relationship to just move those conversations to a cozy zoom meeting with your therapi—

“that’s a skewed perception of our dynamic though, baby.”

oh, shit. he has the look. you know this one too well, and it says “i’m not letting this slide and we’re talking this through”.

“how so?” you feel tired and discouraged already, mostly annoyed at yourself for making your boyfriend come up with some nonsense points to make you feel better now.

“don’t put me on a pedestal. firstly, i think you’re forgetting how many people there actually are behind what we’re doing. daily. i’m talking all the staff and production teams, makeup, hair, clothes, art direction, schedule management. everything. there is literally a whole division for us that makes us look the way we look and helps us do what we love.”

you stay quiet, blinking slowly and pursing your lips together.

“which isn’t to say we don’t work hard or that we haven’t achieved anything, but it wouldn’t have been possible without all that help.

secondly, in my daily life i’m just a guy, baby. literally just a guy who loves music. nothing fancy,” chan gives you one of those wide soft smiles, and you hear your heart break a little.

“yeah, well, not every guy who loves music has the amount of awards and recognition you do, baby.”

“okay, where is this truly going?”

there it goes.

“sometimes i worry i just can’t match it? that you’ll get bored of me because i’m not over the top extraordinary or... whatever.”

you feel stupid.

“so you think i’m with you for your so-called achievements?”

you can’t come up with a response, so he continues, gently hugging you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. his favorite way of making you feel loved.

“i’m with you because you’re my sense of normalcy, baby. you calm my mind when it’s racing too fast. you’re my safe little harbour where i can find peace after hectic schedules and loud noises and crowds. you ease the weight i carry on my shoulders every day.”

you stay silent, focusing on the feeling of his warm breath on your cheek. the tip of his nose is touching your skin lightly.

“you love the regular channie. you kiss my puffy swollen face in the mornings, and those kisses make me wonder if i’m actually not that bad without all the makeup on after all. you laugh at my jokes and cuddle me when i get needy. you listen to my darkest nastiest thoughts and never judge me for feeling whatever it is i’m feeling.

what i’m getting at is that... i can just be me around you, you know? that’s why i’m still here. and i feel so proud to have a partner with a big warm heart and a strong mind, honored to be cared for by someone so neat and beautiful in the most mundane things.

do you really think i’d measure my love and respect for you by something like fame or... some noble achievements?”

“i don’t know,” you sound even more confused than at the beginning of this suddenly serious conversation, caught off guard by chan’s words, but mostly — his tenderness towards you. his patience and the way he's willing to spell it out for you if you're feeling too low to see the whole picture yourself.

"well, then i’m telling you. that is just not the case. you’re already everything i could ask for, baby. someone passionate, honest, reliable, loving and kind. someone who holds my hands through the hard days and makes me laugh on the good days. simple as that."

the pressure on your chest is slowly fading as chan's words finally sinking in, finding their ways into your system and rendering as the truth. the ache isn't completely gone but you know it will be in the morning, when the sunrise washes the rest of your worries away.

for now, you turn around in chris's embrace and hide your nose in the crook of his neck, simply breathing and enjoying the lingering scent of his soap. skin to skin.

#skz x reader #skz bang chan #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #chan x you #bang chan x you #skz imagines #my fic #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #bang chan stray kids #skz x you #chan x female reader #bang chan x female reader #stray kids bang chan

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recreationalfanfics · 2 years ago

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Hi there, can you please do Yandere Thor, Poseidon, Loki and possibly Hercules to Female Yoriichi Reader? The creator of the Sun Breathing and the other Breathing Forms, who always has a solemn expression and is known as the Strongest Demon Slayer to ever exist (She has access to the Transparent World and can use the Selfless State) but despite this she’s incredibly humble seeing herself as just another human and not even special, despite her extraordinary skills

Yoriichi gave Muzan such severe PTSD from 400 YEARS ago that his Upper Moons will go through his trauma just from seeing TANJIRO (And it’s STILL severely traumatic to him 😂)

Yandere Shiva, Loki, Buddha and Hercules with Female Tengen Uzui Reader from KNY? How do you think they would react to Reader calling herself ‘Goddess of Festivals/Flashiness’ and calling others (Even GODS) ‘Trash’ and having 3 HUSBANDS 💀

Sorry if this is a lot! I just think Demon Slayer Characters are super cool, especially the Hashiras (The Swordsmith Village Arc is going to be released sometime in April! 🥹🤩)

Thor, Poseidon, and Loki + Fem! Yoriichi Tsugikuni! Reader:

One of these three gods stands on one side of the arena, their grand entrance causing a ruckus of enthusiastic roars and cheers from the side of the gods while the humans side shook with terror. They look at the other side, confident and ready to see the pitiful mortal that Brunhilde had served to them on a silver platter. It was a woman.

She makes no flashy entrance, her clothes are rather average, and her face does not seem scared but nor does it seem too cocky. Her (e/c) eyes are serene and her (h/c) hair was rather average looking. She was a regular looking human, nothing special. Aside from the strange looking birthmark on her left eye.

"AND IF YOU LOOK OVER FOLKS, THE NEXT FOOL WHO WILL BE CHALLENGING THE GODS IS A SWORDSWOMAN WHO DOMINATED THE SENGOKU ERA-"

"Please." The (h/c) haired woman interrupts, Heimdall goes silent and so does everyone else, unsheathing her sword, she looks at Heimdall with a composed look on her face, it was not unkind, "I do not need such an introduction. I am a human like the rest of my kind."

She then gets into her defensive stance and narrows her eyes at her divine opponent.

"And I shall do whatever it takes to save them."

The god you're against either glares at you, smiles at you, or raises an eyebrow at you. Either way, Heimdall recovers his voice:

"LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, (Y/N) (L/N), THE SUN BREATHING SWORD ARTIST AND MOTHER OF ALL BREATHING METHODS. NIGHTMARE OF MUZAN KIBUTSUJI AND THE STRONGEST HASHIRA HUMANITY HAS KNOWN!"

"So that's who you are," the God thinks to himself as you maintain unbreakable eye contact, "that hardly matters."

Yandere! Thor:

- Thor doesn't think much of you when you step into the arena, not because you're a human, but because he has yet to see you fight. You seem unfazed by him but he doesn't truly know that for sure. You are not unattractive but you're nothing special in his eyes.

- What a fool he was, because the moment the battle begins, he sees that you aren't just beautiful, you're absolutely heavenly. When you take your first breath, you take away his as large solar fires soon appear around you and you make your attack.

"What is this?" He asks himself in his head, using his Mjölnir to block another close sneak attack blow from your sword. The clashing of your weapon and his own makes his heart do flips in his chest, "Why...why do I feel like this?"

You then decided to be bold and you quickly, nearly teleported with the speed you were going, appear in front of him and your eyes glint, reflecting off your blade as you try to slash him. His eyes soften when they see you and his blood thirsty smile softens as your eyes lock onto his. There was fire in your eyes...no...the sun itself glowed in them. Powerful, burning, yet composed.

"What has she done to me?" He thinks, and you're not sure if it's from the intensity of the battle but his cheeks appear to be dusted the lightest color of pink.

- Your fight ends in a draw, the both of are so tired that you neither of you can move a muscle. Both God's and Humans are shocked at the results but Thor couldn't be happier.

- He just found his soulmate, he thinks to himself as you try to use your sword to get up and fight him again. His smile turns into a loving one as you struggle to get close to him, not that he can judge since he can also barely move, and he loves it! In fact, he now knows that he loves you.

- You will be his! You have to be, surely you were created to match him in power and strength because you were meant to be with him. After being fixed up and bandaged, he must seek you out, he must find you!

- Since then, the God of Thunder has been keeping his eye on you, his beautiful Sun. How you appear unreadable at first but if someone truly read you, truly attempted to understand what a complex and beautiful person you are like Thor has; they can see that you're more than a human...You're humble, you're kind, and you're dutiful. Honorable like him and share the same values, this only seals your fate to him even more.

- Odin notices how during other God's battles that his son scans the human's side, his eyes desperately searching for someone in the crowd. Thor knows for a fact that you always come to watch your fellow Human's matches in person and when his eyes land on you, that adrenaline kicks in and Loki and Odin stare at him as a smile grows on his face.

- He does this every match, but even then, the time between matches is too long for him to see you again. He searches for you, Brunhilde having to confront him as she reminds him that the HUMAN champions reside here but he ignores her the moment he sees you walk down the hallway. He follows you quickly like how the moon chases the sun.

- You turn and see him and you politely bow your head to him. He frowns a bit in dissaproval, how could you bow your head to him as if he were a stranger, surely you had to feel the same feelings he was after your battle. How you two danced a brutal yet beautiful dance of life and death. You stare at each other for a bit before you muster a kind yet small smile, "I look forward to our rematch." and as a result, he nods with his usual stoic demeanor and you turn and walk to your room. Yes, he can't wait for your rematch either.

- Because one the day it takes place, Heimdall shocks everyone with his newest announcement.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WELCOME TO THE FIRST RAGNAROK REMATCH OF THR GOD OF THUNDER VS. THE LADY OF THE SUN. EXCEPT, THE CONDITIONS ARE DIFFERENT THIS TIME."

- You don't like the way the red-haired God smiles at you, it feels smug and ominous, and you paitently wait to hear this last minute change.

"IN THE CASE THAT OUR ESTEEMED PRINCE OF ASGARD WINS, HE HAS REQUESTED THAT INSTEAD OF SENDING (Y/N) TO NIFLHIEM THAT SHE IS TO BELONG TO HIM INSTEAD."

- You look at Brunhilde, who looks away shamefully and can not meet your gaze, and then you look at Thor. Who looks a lot more motivated to beat you this time.

Yandere! Poseidon:

- He wanted to roll his eyes when you interrupted him. What right did you have to act so humble? You're a human, what could you possibly have to be humble about? Being a mere ant he steps on on a daily basis?

- Fine, if you want a wake up call, he'll give you one. He waits for you to strike, it wouldn't hurt to give you an advantage since there's no way something as insignificant as you can beat him. Until you grip your nichirin blade and take a deep breath, suddenly the water arena evaporates into steam as intense flames surround you...no, not mere flames. It felt like the sun itself.

- You use the steam to sneak and attack the God, whose now even more annoyed than ever. Smoke and mirrors, that's all it was. Poseidon REFUSES to allow you to think you have an advantage and tries to kill you with his strongest attacks but even then, its not enough.

A draw, your battle ended in a draw. He can't believe it, as he kneels down on one leg bleeding and holding onto his trident for support as you pant heavily on the other side, your throat burning but you still have the bright gaze in your eyes, the eyes of someone who just humbled a God. He was in denial at first, then he was angry. Destroying everything in sight at the humiliation he faced at your hand. He knew you two were set for a rematch BUT HE NEEDED VENGANCE FOR HIS SCORNED PRIDE NOW. Looking for you all around heaven, he threatened and interrogated many of your human allies and located you inside the greenhouse. It was bright and beautiful day as always, but it did little to improve his mood. The only thing that could is your dead body at his feet, evidence that you were just as every bit of a failure as the rest of humanity.

However he stops when he sees you. The artful way you practice your sword. The calm rise and fall of your chest all perfectly timed to enhance your fighting style and your moves, the same ones you used to tie with him, slowed down and filled with grace and strength. His heart makes his brain forget that you are human, the thing he detested the most in this life, and his anger is replaced with something else. Respect? Admiration?

No, it was none of those things.

In fact, it was something more passionate. More shameful in the eyes of gods. Something that you will soon find is worth than his anger.

- He observes you a lot more from then on. You aren't sure why since last you checked, he had looked down on you like you were the dirt beneath his feet, but you come here at the exact same time on the exact same day, and so does he.

- You don't speak to him, he wants you too. Haven't you humiliated him enough already? apparently not since you didn't even glance at him as you trained and he knows damn well you see him.

- "What are you?" He finally asks as he pushes down his broken pride. You stare at him, your solemn face broken when he asked you that question. "You are not a human," He explains, "You can't be. Humans are not meant to be...to be so..." he pauses and looks down, to any normal person, he looks pissed and like he's gonna attack but you only raise an eyebrow. W-was he being shy?

- "Beautiful." He finally answers, and for a brief moment that stoicism breaks in shock at his words. "You can not be a human. You are too beautiful. Humans can not be beautiful." It takes you a while to find your voice but when you do, you merely keep your composure: "Humans are many things, Lord Poseidon. We are strong, we are compassionate, and, yes, we can be beautiful."

- No, he thinks to himself, humans are not beautiful. This is a fact he's known for a long, long time. Yet, you were a human and here he was, admiring you every day and watching you in utter awe. Only you, he decides. Humans are not beautiful, only you are.

- He hates how humble you are, he absolutely despises it. Do you not have any respect for yourself? How can you allow yourself to think that you're anything like those worthless worms who snivel and beg pathetically at the feet of the gods. He believes there has been a mistake in the universe, he believes you're insulting yourself when you downplay your status and feats. Can't you see? They're beneath you! Humanity is beneath you! He has to fix this. He has to fix you.

- The day of your rematch with Poseidon, neither of you are seen. The gods search for him and the Valkyries try to rummage through your room and found only one shocking clue. A letter left on your bed written by Poseidon, who believes that deciding the fate of Humanity was beneath him and how he had more important matters involving you. He sits next to your unconscious sleeping form on his bed, his fingers in your hair as you sleep so beautifully. You needed to learn to take more pride in yourself, to be taken away from the shackles of humility humanity put on you, and Poseidon was more than happy to teach you how.

Yandere! Loki:

- He was rather unimpressed with your entrance and appearance, honestly. A smirk on his face as he looks you up and down, you certainly weren't wrong when you said you were a human, for that's what was before him. A measly average human.

- Honestly, he feels rather insulted and that this fight isn't gonna be as exciting as he had hoped. That wasn't fair! Every other God got fun humans but him! Oh well, at least he has an excuse to torture a human and humiliate them in front of everyone~

- Summoning his own weapons, he just tilts his head: "You know, interrupting Heimdall was a little dramatic don't you think? If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you secretly put yourself on a pedastal."/ "I do not, I just merely am stating a fact. I am a human who bleeds just like the rest of humanity."/ Loki then smiles: "I'm so happy you think that! Because you're gonna die like the rest of them!"

- His attack is planned in his head, first a chain wraps around you and his other blade will slit your throat and soon, you'll suffer as- "I never said we bled easily." Your voice is right behind him. He looks over his shoulder and reacts in time but when you breathe, he can't act fast enough before of the display of a divine light that surrounds you now. You slice his shoulder and it burns, he holds it and glares at you. You drew first blood, but he'll make sure you don't get lucky again.

- Until you both are exaughsted from the battle and it ends in a tie. Loki feels himself growing weak and his last sight before losing consciousness is you. Surprisingly, when he wakes up, the first thing he sees is you as well. Sitting next to him, bandages on your wounds and a book in your hands. You notice from the corner of your eyes that he is awake.

- You apologize instantly for his wounds, despite the fact it is a literal fight to the death. In fact, your exact words to him are: "I aimed all of my attacks to kill swiftly, it was not my intention to make you suffer like the demons who have met my blade. In our next battle, I will make sure to be strong enough to kill you properly and respectfully."

- He isn't sure what to think of this, what to think of you. But it makes him smile for some reason, maybe he smiles at your foolishness for thinking you could kill HIM (you were close but he blames it on fortune), or maybe he smiles because it's very rare that someone honors him, a God of mischief and trickery, the same way they'd honor more noble gods like his uncle and cousin. Or maybe it was the smile you gave him...yes, that was it. It was your smile that sealed your fate.

- Loki can now be found wherever you are, like an annoying stray who keeps coming back to the hand that fed him once. Maybe he wants to annoy you, maybe he wants to flirt. Anything just to see you change that serious boring look on your face...maybe smile for him, yeah? He just hasn't been able to get it out of his mind.

- But, nah, you're too boring. That's his little pet name for you "His Boring Little Mortal", he'll complain about you but if anyone else was to speak ill, God or Human, he becomes indignant and reminds them of your good traits like your nobility and how you held yourself in battle.

- He's honestly the same when he's a yandere, as I said before, but the key major difference is that all it takes is one miniscule thing and suddenly, he comes more possessive. More protective and more suffocating. Like, he's watching you during a Ragngarok match and you smile at someone. To others, it might not be a big deal but to him, it very much is. Because it wasn't fair, YOUR SMILE BELONGED TO HIM. NOT TO ANYONE ELSE. TO HIM. YOU SMILED AT HIM FIRST SO IT'S HIS! YOU ARE HIS.

You lost the battle.

Your nobility, your humbleness, and your kindness wasn't enough to match the God of Deciet's wit and cunning. Your on both your knees, coughing up blood and unable to move your body as you hear the loud chain rattling of his weapons. You can hear the humans behind you begging you to get up, urging you to fight but you can't, your heart's strength was there but your body's was not. You feel ashamed but at least you can die knowing you did your best. Loki looks down at you, his hands at his sides, and his face stoic in a very unsettling manner. All he has to do is kill you, all he has to do is-"

"...I don't want too." He frowns, crossing his arms and looking the other way. You look at him in shock as the God's outrage as well as the humans. "LOKI, WHAT TREACHERY IS THIS!?" One of Odin's crows, well, crowed loudly.

Loki stuck out his tounge before shrugging, "I don't know, I mean, what am I winning? A step closer to humanity's destruction? We're gods! I want a something else! A prize~" He says slyly. The gods outrage once more before Zeus sighs, knowing nothing can be simple with the green haired god and tiredly asked him, "Fine, what prize must we give you if you kill (Y/n) (L/n)?" Zeus asked, making Loki grin wolfishly.

The arena becomes quiet and Loki kneels in front of you, cupping your face in his hands and tilting your head. What a cute face you're making, so confused and ready to die. He wonders what face you would make if he just...

Kissed you passionately, pressing his lips to your blood covered ones and shocking you and both audiences of mortals and immortals. You don't kiss him back, you don't even have time to think before he pulls away from you and looks at you with half lidded eyes.

Yes, that face is so much cuter on you. He wonders what other faces you could make.

But first, he has to answer the question Zeus asked him, "Why, the only prize that matters to me of course!~"

"(Y/n) (L/n), the Sun Hashira herself!"

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