#felt that in my soul....and another place
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"I know we often lose, and that the death or destruction of another is infinitely more real and unbearable than one's own. I think I know how many times one has to start again, and how often one feels that one cannot start again. And yet, on pain of death, one can never remain where one is. The light. The light. One will perish without the light.
I have slept on rooftops and in basements and subways, have been cold and hungry all my life; have felt that no fire would ever warm me, and no arms would ever hold me. I have been, as the song says, 'buked and scorned and I know that I always will be. But, my God, in that darkness, which was the lot of my ancestors and my own state, what a mighty fire burned! In that darkness of rape and degradation, that fine flying froth and mist of blood, through all that terror and in all that helplessness, a living soul moved and refused to die. We really emptied oceans with a home-made spoon and tore down mountains with our hands. And if love was in Hong Kong, we learned how to swim.
It is a mighty heritage, it is the human heritage, and it is all there is to trust. And I learned this through descending, as it were, into the eyes of my father and my mother. I wondered, when I was little, how they bore it--for I knew that they had much to bear. It had not yet occurred to me that I also would have much to bear; but they knew it, and the unimaginable rigors of their journey helped them to prepare me for mine. This is why one must say Yes to life and embrace it wherever it is found--and it is found in terrible places; nevertheless, there it is; and if the father can say, Yes, Lord, the child can learn that most difficult of words, Amen.
For nothing is fixed, forever and forever and forever, it is not fixed; the earth is always shifting, the light is always changing, the sea does not cease to grind down rock. Generations doe not cease to be born, and we are responsible to them because we are the only witnesses they have.
The sea rises, the light fails, lovers cling to each other, and children cling to us. The moment we cease to hold each other, the moment we break faith with one another, the sea engulfs us and the light goes out."
James Baldwin, Nothing Personal
we’re gonna be ok btw
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Valentine's Favourites
Sylus x female!reader
Genre: fluff
Warning: 2,4k words, overuse of the word kitten and allusions to cat like behavior
Note: fanfiction for my Valentine's Event
for masterlist and request info head to the navigation →
← how are Luke & Kieran doing ★ continuation of the evening →
~★~
Any day spent with Sylus was worth remembering, anytime he felt like it he spoiled you with various gifts and dates, indulging every desire of yours. This time he decided to surprise you, how much will you like the gift he prepared for you...
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Being kidnapped from your apartment by your boyfriend who didn't want to share any information about where you were going was not on your to-do-list but oh well, here we are.
It's not that you didn't trust him, it was the fact that you were dying to know what came over him to pull a stunt like this, and he refused to acknowledge your questions.
The audacity of that man? But alright, you can try to act like it didn't bother you, looking out of the window of his luxurious car you tried your best to recognize your surroundings, but it seems that he was taking you to a totally unfamiliar place.
"When will you end my torment?" once again you turned your head his way to stare into his very soul, but he didn't act bothered in the slightest, sly smirk tugged on his lips, he didn't even spare a glance your way.
"Soon, sweetie, I promise, you need to be a little more patient than that." his teasing voice made you want to both: kiss him and strangle him. With a loud sigh you turned your attention back to the outside world, the trees passing fast before your eyes made you feel dizzy.
You closed your eyes, promising to open them in a moment, but then a moment became a minute, then two, then fifteen...
Quiet music coming from the speakers soothed you to sleep.
Sylus couldn't help but smile at the sight, his love, cuddled up in her seat, looking so vulnerable and calm, in contrast to her usual storm-like fierce character.
Well, she had the guts to take over the Onychinus one day if needed. But he wouldn't leave her to take care of such a responsibility, of course. The hard and dirty work shall be his, so she can enjoy herself in the world without worries.
Without counting the worries she felt because of his stubborn actions, but that's a story for another day.
Seeing your body starting to lean a little forward, he used his evol to make sure you won't hurt yourself if your head was to drop and hit something. Seeing you all comfy and safe once again he returned his full attention (99% of it) to the road.
He enjoyed your curious questions and bold but empty threats thrown his way. His favourite one was when you said you'll hang him like a pinãta and let the twins have some fun, how did you even come up with that?
He couldn't help but wonder what your reaction for his surprise will be. Will you be happy? Or disappointment? Will you shed some tears of joy or maybe call him a lunatic for driving you to nowhere just to ask one question.
The only thing that matters is your reaction and answer. Hopefully, you won't get disappointed.
It was around two hours later when you arrived at the destination.
"It's time to wake up kitten." his voice and him gently shaking your body woke you up, your eyes slowly opened, like in haze you stared at him while he tried to bring you to a fully conscious state.
"What..." your sleepy voice made him chuckle a little, he saw you closing your eyes again. Yeah, cats needed their sleep more than anything, right?
"Sweetie, we arrived." he kissed your head gently, your eyes opened once again, still looking tired after your nap.
He caressed your thigh for a moment before leaving the car to go and open your door. The moment he got to your side and crouched down you pulled him into a hug. Instantly his arms pulled you closer to him, making sure to keep your posture comfortable, and not let you lean too much down.
After half a minute or so, he gently moved you to sit back, which made you let out a quiet groan of disappointment at his warmth disappearing from you. He reached out for your shoes that you took off before your nap, carefully taking your ankle in his hands, moving it to rest on his thigh and putting your shoe on for you, giving your calf a kiss before following the same steps with your other leg.
After he was done he looked up, noticing your eyes closed again. A smirk tugged on his lips while he shook his head at your attics, before standing up and picking you up from your seat.
You didn't even flinch, already used to him carrying you whenever he finds the occasion to do so.
Closing the car doors with his leg and clicking the button on his keys to lock the vehicle, he started walking with you in his hold, your hands gripped his shirt like a kitten afraid to fall. Your eyes stayed closed, trusting him completely with your well-being. Your relaxed features made his expression soften, his precious kitten all comfortable in his arms.
The sun started shining a little brighter, irritating your eyes even with your eyelids shut closed, you hid your face in his chest, your arms wrapping around him tightly. He laughed at your behaviour once more.
The same woman who acted all cold and harsh with him the first few months he knew you, now completely trusting him to keep you safe. Your relationship started on rocks, but you managed to build a castle from the rumbles. And he couldn't be happier.
A couple minutes later he finally reached the place he wanted to show you.
"Sweetie... Open your eyes." slowly you followed his instructions. Meeting his eyes above you, the warm light making his features look more gentle than usual.
Slowly he puts you on your feet, your eyes never leaving each other. You stood up on the rocky path still hugging his side.
"Look." he whispered, his eyes turning to look at something ahead of you. You turned your head around, your eyes catching the grassy field full of white flowers. You tried to tell what kind of flowers they were, but you stood too far away from them "Those are datura flowers." he answered your silent question.
"Datura?" you peeked at his face above yours, him still holding you in the back hug "Aren't those like super poisonous?"
"They are." he kissed your head, unbothered.
"Why did you take me here?" you tried to search your mind for any memories that could somehow be connected to those flowers, but your thoughts were blank.
"There's a legend about those flowers, but it's a tale for another day. They just have a symbolism that matters to me." he pulled some strayed strands of hair behind your ear "I didn't just take you here to stare at the flowers."
"You didn't? Then what for?" you looked at him, your full attention dedicated to him.
"There's another place here that I want to show you." he took your hand in his, pulling you to walk after him.
"How did you even find this place? We're two or three hours away from Linkon, we'll be coming back in the middle of the night." he only chuckled at your question.
"Who said something about coming back tonight?" you looked at him stunned, but he didn't even glance your way.
"What do you mean?" you questioned again.
"I own a house not too far from here." you scoffed at his words.
"Pff of course you do." you continued your walk side by side, you tried to guess where he wanted to take you, but everything around you looked the same, no matter how many meters you walked.
After maybe twenty or so minutes you complained about him taking you to nowhere and making you move around too much when you just wanted to chill in your home. The only thing he said was 'be patient sweetie' just like before in the car.
Soon the sun started to hide behind the horizon, you couldn't help but gaze at the breathtaking sight before you, not noticing how your lover's attentive eyes were watching you, taking in the view of your beautiful face coated with warm orange light.
Too taken by the scene in the sky, you didn't see when you walked up to the place he wanted to show you all along.
You felt him coming to stop, your head instantly turned his way, asking a silent question. He only looked at you, with one corner of his mouth raised.
Confused you started to look around, the sight before you made your eyes widen.
A huge, red tree met your eye. Something about it making you feel like under a spell. In a daze you stared as the leaves swayed slowly with the wind, there were some lights hung on the branches, hidden behind the layer of leaves.
Your daydream got interrupted by Sylus's voice.
"Come back to me sweetie." you turned your head towards him, looking at him, waiting for explanation. Why did he take you here? "This place is also a part of the local legends. I guess you could also say that it has a... personal meaning to me." he looked at nature's creation.
"Personal meaning? May I ask why is that?" you observed his face, his expression not giving you any clue.
"A couple of years ago, that very tree was dying, locals tried their best to save it, but their efforts were not enough to help with its withering state. I paid it no mind at first, until I heard a legend surrounding that tree. It's said that a dragon lived in this village centuries ago, ruling the lands for many years, until..." his eyes turned to you "He sacrificed himself for his lover."
"Why did he have to sacrifice himself for love..." you asked, your tone gentle, Sylus started to look vulnerable, his gaze turned even softer.
"I don't know, there are many tales explaining that, some claim that his lover was the one who killed him, their greed for his richest becoming stronger than their love, some say that people rebelled against him, and he had to sacrifice himself for his lover to run away, others believe that he had to kill himself or else he would have to hurt his lover." your face took a rather sad expression.
"Which one do you believe is true?" his head lowered to kiss your forehead, soft smile gracing his lips.
"If I had to guess." he stopped to think for a moment "None of them." you looked at him confused, he couldn't help but chuckle at your expression "None of them ever made enough sense for me to believe them."
"Does everything need to make sense?" you crooked a smile, looking at him with something hiding in your gaze.
"No." he turned to look at the tree before you.
"What's the real reason you took me here?" you read through him once again.
"When I came here for the first time, this tree was almost dead, but it still clung to the last string connecting it to life, not letting itself leave this world." it reminded me of myself, the last string connecting me to this world being you "I decided to help it and a couple months later it grew larger, healthy and strong. I couldn't help but come back to this place every once in a while, something about it brought me a sense of peace." something only you were really able to achieve.
"It is peaceful here, unlike your usual environment." you giggled, hiding your head in his chest.
"Don't tell me you don't enjoy the thrill in our life sweetheart." our? "I brought you here because I wanted to show you more... Peaceful piece of my life. Something that you deserve more than the usual routine of the N109 Zone."
"I enjoy my days in the N109 Zone, I wouldn't change a thing." you nuzzled you head into his torso, earning yourself a quiet laugh from the man.
"I know sweetheart, seeing you happy in my home makes my heart fill with joy every time." gently he touched your chin, making you raise your head and meet his gaze "That's also part of the reason why I came out with a proposition for you."
"A proposition?" you were confused, what could he possibly talk about?
"Move in with me permanently." your brows raised in shock, was he actually asking you that? But you already talked about it..
"But... We said that we'll do that once we'll be ready to get married and stuff..." you let out a nervous giggle. Of course you wanted to agree, but you thought that it was still too early for him?
To your shock you saw him leaning down.
"What are you doing-" don't panic, don't panic, DON'T PANIC.
He kneeled before you, your palm still resting in his, you felt your heart beating two times faster than normally.
"Marry me." his voice didn't falter, his gaze confident. You wanted to faint on the spot.
"You're kidding me."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"Kitten, I'm not."
"Sylus I..." his free hand reached into his pocket, pulling out a red velvet box.
You watched as he swiftly opened it, your eyes falling onto the ring probably worth more than your apartment.
"So? What's your answer?" you saw how his eyes seemed to lighten up every time you looked at them, you couldn't help but think about how he looked like a cat, pretending that he found himself in the same room with his owner totally by accident.
Your eyes left the jewelry, now looking straight into his eyes. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.
"Sylus..." you felt tears forming in the corners of your eyes. The man of your life, the one who treated you like you deserved the world, who saw you at your worst and still reminded you how beautiful you were to him, was proposing to you "Of course I'll marry you."
He smiled, not his usual cocky grin, but a genuine smile. Gently he put the ring onto your finger, the gem adoring your hand perfectly.
He stood up, taking your face into his palms, your hands went up to his elbows.
He watched your glassy eyes shine, felt your happiness like it was his own, and maybe - it was.
His head dipped down to plant a kiss on your lips, deepening it almost instantly, sharing his feelings with you.
He absolutely adores you, and he'll continue to, through every life and story.
#sylus x reader#sylus x you#sylus x mc#sylus x y/n#sylus fluff#sylus#sylus love and deepspace#love and deepspace sylus#l&ds sylus#lads sylus#lnds sylus#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#l&ds#lads#lnds
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dray the crisis is hitting again can I get yandere mad scientist and their also mad scientist reader who loves experimenting with them? Thank u!!
Omgeee my first yandere ask, thank you sm!! Hope you like it, it kinda went all over the place (much like the couple lol)
Ever since Yandere!Mad Scientist was a boy the twisted darkness of scientific exploration spoke to the depths of his soul. He carried it with him throughout his childhood and the so-called deranged experiments he would conduct on the neighborhood animals.
When you, the new neighbor’s child, cried over the loss of your cat, Yandere!Mad Scientist felt something shift inside of him for the first time in his few years on this earth. He wondered briefly if this is what his parents meant when referring to emotion. He wanted… more of this strange sensation. He also wanted to use his gifts for someone else for a change. Another first your presence has given him.
He knew you would appreciate the gift that resulted from his experiment, and appreciate him, even when no one else ever has. Something in him told him you would understand. He didn’t believe in fate or destiny, no, he believed in cold hard facts and science. But perhaps in this one exception… it was your soul calling out for him. It had to be. Who was he not to answer?
The moment you throw open the gift box in your family’s living room to reveal your cat’s moving head on a mechanical body and your joyous squeals mingle with your parents horrified screams, he knew. The way you marveled at his accomplishment as you hugged your cat close before your parents tore it away from you in terror.
He knew you were meant to be his. And someday when he wasn’t so little and you weren’t under the control of your parents, you would be. By the possessive look you flash him as your parents usher him out and threaten to call the cops, he knows you have the same idea.
As you both continued to age, Yandere!Mad Scientist’s experiments only got more complex and dangerous. Though now you were right there by his side, driving his theories down even darker avenues. Your creative mind just as twisted as his, if not more so. Your genius unparalleled.
Of course, a series of strategic maneuvers had to be set in place every time you both snuck away to meet up given your parents had permanently banned you from seeing ‘the freak kid next door.’ They still hadn’t gotten over the little cat incident. The fact that you kept the cat alive to this day probably not helping them move on either.
But nothing could keep you away from each other. He was yours and you were most definitely his. With your work together you two would take control of the world and destroy anyone who tried to get in the others path. They were all of inferior minds to you two, they had no right to deny you what rightfully belonged to you and him.
No one would be able to touch you or keep you from him again. It was only a matter of time.
When you and Yandere!Mad Scientist got to college it was the real first taste of freedom either of you had ever had. He thought that this was it. You two would never be separated from now on. He’d be in an off campus apartment with you after school and during school you two would have all the same classes.
But then you have to go and betray him, doing the worst thing imaginable. Choosing a different major than him. While he had gone the expected path— the correct one— of a Science Major. You had chosen… Psychology. It was possibly the first time in his entire life that Yandere!Mad Scientist had been furious at you. You wouldn’t believe how tempted he was to handcuff you to him so you’d be forced to always remain by his side
He was actually searching online for a good sturdy pair the night you came to him asking for help with a project, the first you two had spoken in days following the fight you had about it. And that’s when he learns of your true motivations, the reason behind your desire to be a… Psych major of all things.
You see, you had started working on a memory control device that would surely help your plans for world domination. Of course, he immediately agreed to working on this with you. You two had never worked separately since you met and he wasn’t about to start now. Only he was allowed to know the inner workings of your mind, to understand the way your genius wove its clever webs. He was the only one who ever understood you and that would remain true for as long as he had a say about it.
Together, the work on your project progressed rapidly. The two of you working on it day and night. It was a little tricky, given you two only shared a few classes together where you’d pass flirtatious notes filled with complex algorithms. But he made do.
Though as you learned more from your classes and began applying them to the device, something started feeling… off about it all. More algorithms were attempted that he doesn’t remember running, beakers he doesn’t recall turning on were left running till they overflowed, and days seemed to pass him by where it felt like he had done absolutely nothing despite your excited rambling on the progression of the project.
One night, as you two are cleaning up from that night’s experiments, he comes across one of his many notebooks. Buried deep under a dozen others just like it. But this one has a book mark with an arrow pointing down saying ‘Read me.’ On the marked page lays a whole series of numbers and formulas he’s never even seen before in his one handwriting. With a sticky note at the top reading ‘Forget Something?’
He reads through what appears to be his work over and over again. No, this can’t be real. He never did any of this, it’s impossible. But as he watches the formulas grow more successful with each equation, realization dawns on him. It is possible. He just lost his memory of it. He looks up, eyes instantly catching onto your form across the room just as you look back up at him.
That playful smirk and mischievous glimmer in your eye that he loves so much. It’s as clear as day. As is what you’ve been doing to him. His lips curl into a mirroring expression and you just laugh, returning your gaze to your work.
Ah, so that’s how you want to play it, huh? That’s more than fine by him. He can play it right back to ya. To show you that his brain is all yours for fucking around with, so long as you’re his to do the same.
The next time you come to, the pair of you are sitting in an unfamiliar lecture hall. The teacher droning on about a topic you can’t really hear. Still half-asleep with your head resting on your arms.
“Wakey wakey, darling,” he murmurs in your ear, hand petting your head affectionately. You look too cute all groggy and disoriented as you slowly wake up from the device’s effects. He understands why you used it so much on him. Seeing you like this was absolutely irresistible.
You groan, eyes scrunching up tight. Your head feeling like it weighs about a metric ton and your eyes begging to remain closed forever. You open them anyway, lashes fluttering as you try and focus in on your surroundings. The lecture hall is completely unfamiliar to you. And given the stone walls, you’re in a completely different department.
“W-where am I?” You ask, voice slightly slurred from misuse.
He is having too much fun watching you. It’s wild seeing the device be used and the impacts it has on its users. He briefly wonders if you’ll forget all about this feeling just as he had. He cups your chin with a surprising tenderness, slowly bringing your attention back on him.
“Don’t you remember, dear? You decided to transfer into the Science department. Now, we’ll be together in all our classes. Just like you wanted,” he rumbles, his voice like a hypnotic lullaby as his thumb soothingly caresses your jaw.
It takes a moment for you to break through the comforting haze of his touch so his words can register. Your brows furrow deeply, having no memory of leaving your previous major. The words begin to repeat in your head, echoing and pounding against your skull.
Remember.
He can the moment clarity begins to dawn on you. Your eyes losing that dazed effect to them. He practically watches as you put the pieces together, realizing what must’ve happened just like he did. Though he has to give you props for how fast you realized. Your genius only made him fall harder for you, want even more of you.
But when you burst out into a fit of quiet giggles, your eyes lighting up with pride, he can feel the strings you have wrapped around his heart grow impossibly tighter. It was that pride in your work, pride in the success of the device, and even pride in him for managing to get one on you.
Your laughter is infectious and soon he’s laughing right along with you in the lecture hall, leaning in close and marveling at what you two can do when you put your minds to it.
He looks into your eyes, his hand sliding to cup your cheek and holding you like you’re the most the precious thing in the world to him. And just like back when you were kids, with one look he knows what you’re thinking.
That there is nothing better than experimenting with each other. In every way possible.
#yandere#yandere love#yandere romance#yandere scenarios#yandere concept#yandere content#yandere oneshot#yandere fic#yandere imagines#yandere drabble#yandere fluff#yandere male#yancore#yan core#yanderecore#yandere core#yandere original character#yandere oc#mad scientist#mad science#yandere stories#yandere darling#yandere boy#yandere bf#yandere scientist#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x y/n#yandere x darling#yandere x yandere
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i dont know if you write platonic fics but can you write fluff about billie’s sister!drummer!reader ? ty if you do!
an: here ya go cutie 😚
Beats and Bonds
┏━━━━•*•*🥁❃°•°❀°•°❃••*.🥁*━━━━┓
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┗━━━━•*•*🥁❃°•°❀°•°❃••*.🥁*━━━━┛ The low thrum of the bass drum vibrated through the floor and up into your chest. You grinned, relishing the feeling. Dropping your sticks, you wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans and stretched, the cool air of the studio hitting your heated skin.
"Alright, that's a wrap for today!" you called out, the sound echoing slightly in the large, soundproofed room. Immediately, a flurry of activity erupted. Roadies began dismantling your drum kit, coiling cables and packing equipment.
You spotted Billie slouched on a beat-up couch in the corner, her phone glowing in the dim light. She hadn't moved an inch during the entire three-hour rehearsal. You sighed, a familiar mix of exasperation and love bubbling up inside you. Being Billie Eilish's older sister, and her drummer, meant juggling a lot of responsibilities – practical, creative, and emotional.
Sometimes, you just felt like a glorified babysitter.
Walking over, you plopped down beside her, bumping her shoulder playfully. "Hey sleepyhead, you even hear me playing today?"
Billie jumped, startled, and shoved her phone face down onto the couch. "Of course! You were... amazing," she mumbled, avoiding your gaze.
You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Really? What song were we just working on?"
She hesitated, then blurted, "Uh... the one with the... drums?"
You chuckled. "Nice try. Come on, Bils, you gotta pay attention. We're dropping the tempo on 'Lost Cause' by five BPM. It's gonna give it a heavier feel, more grounded.”
Billie finally looked at you, her ocean-blue eyes softening. "I know, I know. I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm just... stressed. This new album is killing me."
You wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Hey, it's gonna be okay. You're incredibly talented, and you have an amazing team behind you. Including your super cool, super supportive, and super groovy big sister." You winked.
Billie giggled, leaning into your embrace. "Okay, okay, I get it. You're the best."
"Damn right I am. Now tell me what’s really bothering you. Is it the lyrics? The arrangements? Finneas breathing down your neck?"
Billie sighed, letting the weight of her anxieties spill out. "Everything, really. I feel like everyone's expecting so much, and I'm just terrified of disappointing them. And myself."
You listened patiently, letting her vent. You knew the pressure she was under, the constant scrutiny, the relentless demands. It was a lot for anyone to handle, let alone a twenty-one-year-old.
"Hey," you said softly, tilting her chin up so she met your eyes. "You are not going to disappoint anyone. You are Billie Eilish. You write incredible songs, you have a unique voice, and you have something important to say. Don't let the pressure crush you. Remember why you started doing this in the first place. Remember the joy, the passion, the love of music."
Billie sniffled, wiping her eyes. "Easy for you to say. You're just banging on drums. I'm the one who has to pour my soul out there."
You frowned. "Hey, drumming isn't just 'banging on things'! It's about creating a rhythm, a heartbeat, a foundation for the music. It's about feeling the energy and channeling it through my body. And," you added, nudging her playfully, "it's about making sure your songs sound freakin' amazing."
Billie smiled, a genuine smile that reached her eyes. "Okay, okay, you got me. You’re pretty important to the whole thing."
"Damn straight," you repeated, grinning. "Now, how about we ditch this place and get some ice cream? My treat."
Billie's face lit up. "Seriously? Yes! I've been craving that mint chocolate chip from Dairy Queen all week."
"Consider it a reward for surviving another day of album production hell." You stood up, pulling her with you. "But you have to promise me something."
"What?"
"No more hiding behind your phone during rehearsals. You gotta be present, Bils. We're a team, remember? We're in this together."
"I promise," she said, squeezing your hand.
As you walked out of the studio, the setting sun casting long shadows across the parking lot, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. You knew the road ahead would be challenging, but you also knew that Billie was strong, resilient, and incredibly talented. And you were there, by her side, ready to bang on the drums, offer a shoulder to cry on, and provide endless amounts of sisterly love.
Later that evening, after demolishing two scoops of mint chocolate chip ice cream each, you found yourselves sprawled out on Billie's bed, watching a cheesy rom-com. Billie's head was resting on your lap, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your jeans.
"Y/N?" she mumbled, her voice drowsy.
"Yeah, Bils?"
"Thanks. For everything."
You smiled, running your fingers through her choppy black hair. "Anytime, little sis. Anytime."
The movie continued to play, but neither of you was really paying attention. You were content, simply being together, two sisters sharing a moment of quiet intimacy amidst the chaos of their lives. You knew, deep down, that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would always have each other. And that, you realized, was the most important thing of all. You knew that your role, as her sister, was to be the steady beat in her life, the rhythm she could always count on. And you wouldn't have it any other way.
#billie eilish#billieeilish#billie eilish x reader#billie eilish x fem! reader#billie x reader#billie eilish fic#billie eilish fanfic#billie eilish fanfiction#billie eilish x you#billie eilish x y/n#billiesbabygirleilish#billie eilish fluff#billie eilish comfort
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Pat didn't get to prepare in peace. He was in the shower when the familiar two Sligs sent by Jabodo showed up at his door, knocking, threatening and demanding him to come out. They made it clear they were not going to wait.
The rushed dancer barely managed to throw on a shirt and a pair of sleep shorts – clothes that were nearest in sight – before they dragged him out and made him walk to class, still wet, dripping from his feathers right on the corridor's carpet.
Jabodo was there, waiting.
"Another unforgivable mistake, I see." After the Sligs pushed Pat through the door, Jabodo said loud enough so that everyone in the room could hear. "You're late and refusing to follow orders..."
A hushed group of other mudokon dancers that were in class today were gathered at barre, exchanging whispers, with emotions varying from fear and sympathy to hidden gloat as they were glancing at the humiliated principal dancer.
Wet, barefoot and in his sleepwear. With big dark circles under his red eyes and a scratch on his cheek..
"I just need to get my dancewear.."
"You had your time. The rehearsal has been scheduled to start half an hour ago. I'm not waiting any longer. You better take your place at barre now, and make up for your unacceptable behaviour."
Sure, Malgaine was a strict teacher too, and required discipline. But he also treated Pat with great care and made sure he was always healthy and in good shape. Pat was a valuable dancer. He wasn't used to being treated with such blatant cruelty and disrespect – by some stranger who wasn't even his real Master.
Jabodo will never be his master.
"Barre. First position. Now." The Chronicler commanded.
But Pat didn't comply. He stood still, not even trying to hide the despise in his eyes anymore.
"I said first position!"
The dancer didn't move.
Jabodo's face went red from anger. The Chronicler darted right up to Pat and impulsively grabbed him by the arm, trying to force the dancer into the ballet position. That didn't work out of course. So instead Jabodo grabbed him by the face and leaned very closely to it.
"Who do you think you are..." He hissed.
"I am a Principal Dancer. And I want to be treated as such."
"You are a Mudokon, and you'll be treated how I see fit! Don't think so highly of yourself. You're not irreplaceable. There's plenty of contenders waiting for you to slip up..." he made a gesture towards the group of dancers at barre. "And they'll do anything to be able to take your place."
Pat knew that very well. The Palace's Mudokon Ballet Troupe currently consisted of 23 dancers apart from Pat. Eight of them were femininised castrati like him. Fourteen regular workers for masculine and supportive roles. Only one queen.
And all of them were willing to sell their souls and bodies for a Principal Dancer title. But Pat didn't feel threatened by it. He just felt sorry for them.
"Go ahead then. Replace me."
Jabodo's hand squeezed the dancer's chin harder.
"Do you know what happens if you get fired, boy?"
"The Palace's ratings drop even lower?"
"Don't get cocky with me! Trust, the Palace will survive without you just fine. But you will not survive without the Palace."
"Does it matter to you, then?"
"Shut it! That's enough! I'm reporting you to Madame Delvona."
He commanded the Sligs to take Pat away.
"You shouldn't've picked this fight..."
He knew that too... He knew he couldn't win it. But he couldn't turn back now.
It was the first time he openly confronted a higher-up like that.
Though Pat wasn't always a sweet and compliant mudokon he was known to be, only lower class could see his angry side. He could lash out at servants, or argue with mudokons that were below or at least on the same level as him. But when it came to anyone higher, Pat's always kept his mouth shut.
Not this time. The dancer has lost any respect for Jabodo. And felt like he had nothing to lose at this point...
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PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4
“You’re moving out,”
Alhaitham repeated slowly, trying to process the information, “because you don’t like the flower I bought?”
“It’s not only about the flower!” Kaveh exclaimed and fell on the couch.
He hid his face in hands not to look at the crimson monstrosity in front of him. No, he didn’t want Alhaitham to look at him going out of his mind. To be honest, he wasn’t convinced of his decision for one minute straight. The flower was driving him crazy and after long hours in the darkness of his room he eventually discovered a real reason for that but it still didn’t feel enough to think about moving out. He had to admit that he got used to this place and Alhaitham’s presence. After nearly two years of living together, they knew each other's schedules and preferences by heart. They weren’t just housemates anymore; they had begun to understand each other.
“I doubt that anyone still follows your trace of thoughts.” Alhaitham sat on the edge of the couch.
His reaction caught Kaveh off guard. The Scribe was being careful, almost delicate—like it was too early for his usual sarcasm to take over. Kaveh expected him to laugh at the idea of moving out and even encourage him, just for the sake of another quarrel between them. And, Archons believe, he got pretty scared when Alhaitham started acting all serious about that. Kaveh had expected Alhaitham to dismiss the idea with rational arguments—not to take him seriously! Kaveh assumed that Alhaitham just pitied him and somehow that was even worse than mocking. But the true reason of his sudden decision was ridiculous. He didn’t want to admit it but why was it bothering him so much?
There was no use in further hiding the truth from Alhaitham.
“It’s about me! I’m the flower! I don’t fit into your turquoise-and-beige interior—like an odd puzzle piece that doesn’t belong. Like that yellow pot in the hallway painting! Like that random shoelace we can’t match to any shoes! What am I even saying!?” The nonsense just kept falling from his mouth.
Alhaitham had to silence him, before he embarrassed himself totally.
“That is true, your colour scheme do not match with the palette of this house. You wear red and everything around is blue or green. But let me assure you, Mr. Architect, no one besides you cares about that,” he sounded just so out of his character.
Kaveh could get used to this polite and caring side of Alhaitham, although it was confusing him at first.
“What?”
“Red and green just remind me of roses in full bloom. And honestly, I couldn’t care less if things are supposed to match or not.”
“Really? You don’t mind that I… that is, this flower… That it does not belong here?”
Alhaitham frowned. His expression became somehow even more serious, so that Kaveh felt the meaning of his words down in his soul. “I invited it to my house, so it does belong here.”
Now he felt stupid. How could he let his insecurity skew the image of Alhaitham, always rational Scribe, who never gets carried away. He was like a bucket of cold water when Kaveh was a wildfire of complex emotions. At the same time, Kaveh could be the gentle blow that keeps Alhaitham’s match on fire, so that he never burns out. They completed each other, whether they admitted it or not. But what if Kaveh’s fire burned too bright?
“Still I… Where are you going?”
Alhaitham left the living room and came back after few minutes with two glasses and a bottle of wine. At first the Architect thought that it had to be a dream.
“The wine is red, it should not fit in this interior, but you shall agree with me that this is the item that works just fine in the current situation.”
“It’s hard to deny your logic,” concurred Kaveh, taking the glass.
The next hour they spent drinking and talking, just like if they were again students in Akademiya.
“I think I worry that much because I quite adore your intelligence,” casually mentioned Kaveh.
He then took another sip of wine, missing the way Alhaitham stiffened beside him. A sudden silence set in. After a while the Architect looked up concerned to discover that his friend was as red as the ugly flower.
“What- What happened?”
He was sure he didn’t say anything inappropriate. Nothing that could cause such a reaction. Alhaitham however seemed as if Kaveh at least proposed to him.
“Y-you… Did you just say that you… adore me?” he sounded so genuinely scared that the Architect barely kept himself from laughing.
He was staring at Alhaitham, trying to find a sign that the Scribe is just joking but he couldn’t find any. For a second his brain influenced by the wine, told him to play along and see how this would end. But he wasn’t that drunk not to think it was a terrible idea. Instead, he smiled warmly and spoke up without any mischievous intention hidden in his voice.
“Didn’t I say that I adore your intelligence?”
A painful realisation became so obvious on Alhaitham’s handsome face. He closed his eyes, bit his lips and frowned.
“Oh… that’s… that’s correct.”
The blonde casually started smiling, which unintentionally led the Scribe to think he was being mocked. “Wait, you got so flustered because you thought I said that adore you?”
Alhaitham stood up probably to stop Kaveh from staring at him and making him even more embarrassed. “Leave the teasing,” he said from behind the couch.
Kaveh tilted his head back, his blonde hair spilling over as a mischievous grin spread across his face.
“It’s always you who teases me!” he straighten up. ”By the way, that wouldn’t be a lie. I adore you, even though you are sometimes so stubborn and stoic and mean and cold…” he kept counting just to see Alhaitham’s reaction.
The Scribe, to no one’s surprise, remained stoic.
“It seems that you recognise many flaws in me.”
Kaveh smiled. “They are not flaws. Those are the features that make it hard for me to understand you. But they are not your flaws. You have different ones.”
“Would you care to give an example?”
The Architect pretended to wonder.
“Insensitiveness,” he said after a while.
“Insensitiveness? People say you are oversensitive.”
Kaveh wasn’t expecting that comeback—but he wasn’t about to back down.
”Oh, so it cuts both ways? Very well, you are… apathetic,” he said proudly.
The Scribe’s corners of the lips lifted a bit. Oh, they loved arguing. It was their own language that only they could understand.
“In that case, I must claim that you are too passionate.”
“Too closed,” Kaveh snapped back.
“So open, that you are almost naive.”
The Architect opened his mouth to vocalise a snarky come back, but he got lost in the rhythm.
“Well, you may have a point here,” he conceded that to Alhaitham.
They shared a honest laugh.
“We don’t really fit together,” Kaveh pointed out the obvious.
His fingers tightened around his glass, knuckles paling. It was bothering him for this whole time. Why were they living together? Why did Alhaitham let him stay here if they were so unmatched?
“I must disagree. I see you as my mirror,” the Scribe said.
Kaveh frowned. “A mirror? That’s absurd. We’re nothing alike. Are you drunk already?”
Alhaitham took a sip of wine, unbothered. “You see my flaws so clearly because they reflect your own.”
That was something Kaveh had never thought of before. Could it really be like this? No, that was ridiculous, he couldn’t stand a chance with Alhaitham’s brilliant mind. Even now he seemed to know what Kaveh was thinking.
“What I am trying to say is that your intelligence can also be described as admirable. In other words, you are more clever than you think.” he looked straight into his eyes and this time it was Kaveh who blushed hard. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No. It’s the nicest you have been in a while. Thank you.”
The Scribe lifted one eyebrow. “You accepted my compliment? Without any complaints? What happened to your insecurity?”
“Seriously!? Did you have to remind me of it?” Kaveh could not stop laughing.
He almost choked on wine when Alhaitham quickly approached him and placed his hand on the Architect’s pale fingers. His touch was warmer than the blonde would have expected.
“Don’t move out. Please.”
Kaveh swallowed, glancing at the familiar mess of books, the couch indented from too many debates, the table still holding that ridiculous flower. His chest tightened. Could he really imagine leaving? Finally, could he imagine living without Alhaitham?
“…I won’t,” he replied.
Alhaitham then stood up under the pretense of making tea. But before he disappeared in the kitchen, he stopped in the door frame and looked at the flower still standing on the tea table.
“Do you want me to get rid of the plant?”
“No, I love it!” Kaveh said without hesitation.
Alhaitham turned away, just enough to hide the small, involuntary smile that crept onto his lips. “I love it too,” he murmured—only to himself.
“Hmm?” Kaveh didn’t catch what he said.
Alhaitham hesitated. His fingers tapped against the doorframe before he finally spoke.
“…Green tea, then?”
Kaveh smiled, softer this time. “Yeah… you do know me.”
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4
all parts on ao3
#genshin impact#genshin#alhaitham#kaveh#genshin alhaitham#kavetham#genshin fanfic#genshin kaveh#haikaveh#kaveh x alhaitham
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What brought her back? The same thing that always brought her back. The hope that she would return home to a manor full of family. That everything that happened all those years ago was a nasty dream.
"Well, I could only travel for so long without feeling like I needed a place to settle again," Gabby started. "And Swynlake has always felt like home to me. The Robichaux's have had a home here for generations now. There were a few homes around the world, but this was the first one I was brought to. I was young when my family moved here. My parents and grandmother. My grandmother fell for the patriarcal figure of the Robichaux Coven, and so we were all welcomed in. On the condition that we Turn, of course." Gabby took another sip, imagining it was a warm chamomile tea passing through her lips.
"The Robichaux's were very old school vampires when it came to traditions and values. Large Covens with different roles and hierarchy, that sort of thing. Many of us were here in Swynlake, but there were pockets all over. The main gathering grounds were in Romania. We would go there for turning ceremonies and other large events such as deaths, weddings, those sorts of things." This wasn't the question Snow had asked, really, but now she was rambling. Gabby shook her head to come back to her senses a bit.
"So I've done a lot of traveling. I love to collect antiques and all sorts of little treasures from around the world, and during my last expedition, I met my boys. A set of twins, Jack and Charlie Benson. They were so sweet and kind; we shared lodging in Norway, near the arctic circle. They had just lost their parents and found themselves with a genetic disease. I couldn't bear the thought of the world losing those bright souls, so I offered them a place in my family." She smiled a little fondly.
"But traveling wasn't really what they needed anymore, after some time. So, when we decided it was time to settle in again, we came here. I felt this would be a good place for them to navigate the world as young Vampires, and well... I've lost a good amount of my family over the years, so now that I had some people to live in that big empty home with me again, I felt it was a good time to return."
Gabby smiled apologetically. "Not to bore you with my whole life--or afterlife--story," Gabby waved her hand back and forth. "I don't get to talk to many about that, though. My boys, of course, but they've heard it all a million times."
She leaned forward a little. "Tell me more about you, Snow," she asked. "Do you have family in town?"
@lady-snow-flower
Tea Time at The Hauntley || Snowy
#ch: snow#th: tea time at the hauntley#snowy#🥀snow song#no gif bc we're racing my computer's battery life lmaoooo
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👅
#felt that in my soul....and another place#link neal#rhett mclaughlin#rhett and link#gmmore 2485#gmm#mishmash cereal#good mythical morning#my gmm gifs
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Just finished my first playthrough of BG3. Romanced Lae'zel, but ending up turning into an Illithid because the idea of making Orpheus or Karlach do it didn't sit well with me (or my character).
I told Lae'zel to leave with Orpheus in the end (I heard she wouldn't stay with a ghaik anyway, which she's valid for, but also, it doesn't feel right to ask her to stay when I know how much her people mean to her). And like-
Her face before she flies off---
She looks so heartbroken and sad.
#emmodii rambles#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate series#lae'zel#spoilers#i don't regret my choices and i do love a good angsty story. but at the same time... OOF.#may you find a new source of joy in the astral realm my queen :'(#for anyone curious- i played a githyanki which i heard is the only race that can fly off with her or something?#but well. again- didn't quite fit my character to have someone else turn instead pfffft#ALSO HE'S A CLERIC OF ILMATER AND A REDEEMED DARK URGE. self-sacrifice is kiNDA TO BE EXPECTED HAHAHA.#anyway- do give romancing lae'zel a shot guys. she may be a hardass at first but it's really because she cares a lot#also slightly off-topic but as a dark urge gith... durge grew up in a city so like. wonder how out of place they woulda felt with the#other githyankis anyway. i think i read somewhere that a gith durge realises they don't really feel connected to creches and stuff#which is interesting and makes me curious about how exactly they were made. cuz they have the traits and knowledge of the race but didn't#grow up with them. i guess the easiest answer would be 'god magic shenanigans' but STILL.#trust me to overthink things hahaha XD#if anyone's curious what happened to my guy in the end--- we followed wyll and karlach to avernus hahaha#what are the devils gonna do? steal the soul we don't have?? TRY IT BITCH#of course i did reload multiple times to have my character kill himself. because that was another option that felt possible for his charact#...and also because i wanted to see how companions would react to it. krewfjewlkrjewklrjewl- although the narration for durge suicide#is also quite interesting! of course maybe that's just me being mentally ill eff (/lh) but having a kill that isn't going to murder daddy?#gives a redeemed durge some control and a final say at last. which is still sad but a nice way to tie up their death methinks#ANYWAY- time to go find a way to convert him into a full-on OC. elves and dwarves are one thing but giths are blatantly dnd so i'mma have#to figure that out for my own story lore and universe--- some kinda new species? humanify him? or convert to another existing general speci#hmm hmm hmmmmmmmmmm-#emmodii plays bg3
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gosh, seeing people happily discussing about their OCs make me want to show my OCs too but then i realized i still have not make any "official" art of them and their background details are still being worked on
#just me rambling#tbh. my reborn ocs are the only one who ''fully'' fleshed out#Kayne original from Hoenn and their main purpose to go to Reborn was to study these new field effects#Neo (who i considering to change name because there are suprisingly many ocs has Neo name XD)-#was originally from Reborn but moved to Alola after the region got into chaos#then back to Reborn because the Aether president order him to look for rouge scientist that secretly works on Type:null#and then order him to stop the PULSE inventions#Evelyn is one of the orphanage from Sigmund place#she ran away before Lin did and joined team Meteor then leave the team after learning about what happened to Ace#rejuv OCs are like...different cans of worms#because rejuv lores are wild#all ocs are from different worlds that ''stumble'' into this one specific dimension#one OC is hinted to be Ariana who lost her memory because she felt into a Dimensional Rift when running away from the Nihilego#one is an high-ranking scientist of Garufa who got killed by Variya but their soul somehow ''get'' rescued by their Dusknoir and the pokemo#thought it would be safer to literally transfer its trainer soul to different universe#one is related to my other Reborn OC. who...has the most normal background compared to other rejuv ocs#there is also another rejuv oc that...has two versions of themselves#one is specifically made for renegade route and to be the pain in everyone ass
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. anyway after writing the tags 4 this post i told my research partner i will no longer follow his dreams lmao. still helping w it but i need to engage in research that i find satisfying
#i think ive been waiting for something for a while and i will spend the next year waiting for it too#i thought i felt panic but i have decided to read it as anticipation. the thrill of rejection or of moving forward or the latter as#a result of the former. i left you with your backpack unattended in the cafe because on fridays i am done#putting my life on hold for another whim-without-a-warning#this cross country service is delayed by 26 minutes so i will grab a bucket and start shovelling the water away from the tracks#everyone is moving on in some different way and im sorry if you think im mean for telling you getting so drunk will disable you from#recording your brainwaves effectively but it seems like you think i owe you an awful lot. one year ago in four days my friend got me hegel's#science of logic for my birthday and i thanked him for proving to me the existence of things this is what i do he said#and then he will spend the rest of his life breathing philosophy and i dont want to spend the rest of my life#breathing someone elses dreams i wait for the moment of realisation. this is now a 30 minute delay. i was supposed to worship beautiful#things and that is what i will do. i think i have a best friend and i know i have a lover and i know to#restrict my love the way you have. im sorry. i hope you understand when i tell you. i am now sitting on the floor in the luggage section of#this incredibly busy train and i saw a photo of her with her boyfriend and her hair in braids smiling like a fool this is the#except a week ago you told me you almost took too much this time to live. you are a beautiful girl with a beautiful soul and you know you#have already changed the world and it somehow was not enough. now you are smiling without any makeup on next to him#and yesterday you cried in an airport in the states when you were too full of love. this is the most extraordinary human being i have met.#tomorrow he heads off to princeton while his best friend heads to harvard. he goes there to make the world a better place. he is the most#extraordinary person i have ever met. the issue with human beings is that we are incredibly good at almost dying and keeping going.#you try to kill yourself and publish a paper and give a talk. you negotiate the seperation between your own parents and submit another#phd application. i am surrounded by extraordinary people with extraordinary minds and incredibly broken happy hearts.#i only see you smile when you talk about robotics. i still dont know how manifolds work and i love the concept anyway. i dont know.#i do know that i refuse to live unsatisfied.#you can keep drinking. im going to drink this reality up#i think i was a horrible person and i refuse to engage with that mentality again no matter what it takes.
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"If you keep staring at me like that, I'll have to ask you what are we?" Imagine being the witness of a serious crime, but the team thought you were involved somehow and needed to rule you out. Cue to big, scary, mysterious, masked Ghost trying to intimidate you by existing near you.
Soap snorts and pats Ghost on the back, which earns a glare from him, all after the man blinked confused. He had pretty eyes. Gaz moves to a corner to smile way too much, and Price sighs loudly.
After a few more minutes of explaining that you were just on your way to your shitty job and that they needed to wrap this up before you are to inevitably getting fired, Ghost still looks straight into your soul, now with more intensity somehow.
At this point, you grit your teeth. You might legit not have a job after this, since you're already half an hour late, and this (weirdly cute) fucker is trying to read your thoughts.
"Oh, you're really into me, aren't you?" He blinks seemingly uninterested and you raise a brow at him, starting a staring contest until Price (as he previously introduced himself) got in between you two.
"I don't think you understand the situation that you're in." It took all of your will to not groan like a child and roll your eyes at him.
Cue to another round of you doubling down and explaining that you're extremely lame but a good person, all while Gaz still looks you up.
"She might be telling the truth, boss." He whispered to Price in the corner of the abandoned shop they broke onto to have some privacy. The man has been trying to confirm your identity all this time, meanwhile you looked up at your number one fan to say "I told you so" and gave him an exasperated sigh when you already caught him intensely staring into your eyes.
"Seriously..." You mutter and you almost believe seeing a crinkle of amusement in his eyes. Your eyes almost twitched. "I pronounce us husband and wife." You say, rolling your eyes at him. Yeah, take that, fuck-face. You childishly thought, absolutely thriving at his slow, surprised blink. Soap cackled and tried to hide it with a cough.
Long story (not) short, you were indeed let go after Gaz confirmed you're broke, lame and basic. No secret villain or anything. After they kinda apologized, Price basically tried to gaslight you into thinking everything is fine then tried to dip his toes into mansplaining the importance of greater things beyond you, he nodded to himself and patted you on the back before barking an order to his soldiers to move. Pretty brown eyes stayed glued onto your soul until you were pretty much skipping away out of sight, rushing to your job incredibly annoyed.
You couldn't really explain your absence to your boss and he didn't care much either, he told you to get to work.
Surprise, surprise, though, because at the end of your shift, he sugarly informed you that you're fired. He gave you the pay he owed you and there you were. Jobless. And probably homeless in a month's time.
A week later and some intense job hunting done, you're at your wit's end, truly. Job market is shit and nobody is looking to hire. As you enter your ratty apartment, you sigh and almost want to cry in frustration. You've been cursing the terrorists, soldiers and any motherfucker involved in last week's incident, entering your kitchen to grab a drink and eat some air since you needed to save money, when you froze in place.
In the middle of your tiny living room stood a massive dark frame, the outside lights shining through the balcony door behind him made the man unrecognizable. You were getting robbed. You just caught a dude right in the middle of robbing you. As if it was the cherry on top, every frustration you felt erupted out of you, and while you were still terrified by the massive frame, you growled a "Get the fuck out of my house."
A deep chuckle was your only response and you felt dread.
"You got spunk. And a shit survival instinct." He stepped closer. You stepped back immediately, calculating your route to the door, hoping he wouldn't be able to catch you. Denial. You knew. But you froze again in surprise. You knew that mask.
"What the fuck are you doing in my house?" It came more of a whisper, thinking you'd never meet those people again. Even standing up in front of him, he's massive. Maybe he came back for those dumbass comments you made. Oh, this is revenge, isn't it? He's built, he can legit destroy you with a punch. Oh, God, you're fucking dead. They still think you're a terrorist or some shit and he's here to destroy you out of existence.
Your mind rambled until he moved, and when he did, you tensed, mind blank. The man, the Ghost took a couple of steps towards you and placed his large hand on the back of your neck, pulling you close. Oh, you're gonna fucking die for sure. He leaned down to your eye level, making you stare into his dark eyes as he studied you.
"Came back to take care of my wife." He said. It was your turn to slowly blink at him. What?
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🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟷........... THE STRONGEST ......filed under the that's not my jjk man series
visitor log: its midday and your clingy-ass boyfriend—gojo satoru—should be hard at work right getting rid of these doppels not knocking at your door—gotta be a fake... right?! classifications: bimbo!reader (canonverse of otaku!gojo's bunny!reader), yandere-esque Gojo, nipple play, recorded sex, lots of sex toys, dirty talk, panty theft, extreme overstim + slight omorashi. incidents: 4.4k .......shout outs to @yung-notorious for beta-ing some of this!
*knock-knock-knock-knock-knock*
Rapid, insistent knocks interrupt your laughter as you chat with friends, carefully brushing a fresh coat of polish onto your toes. You weren’t expecting anyone, but the familiar, overly enthusiastic rhythm—knocking out the tune of Rick Astley’s "Never Gonna Give You Up"—leaves no doubt who it is.
Satoru.
You sigh.
Although you haven’t seen Gojo much lately and are usually happy to see him, his timing this time irritates you for a couple reasons—first, of course he’d interrupt right in the middle of your much-needed girl time! You were desperate to hang with your friends again, especially after being stuck in lockdown for the last 2 weeks.
There was some juicy tea getting spilled on the call too!
More importantly, you weren't in a hurry to get up from the sofa—especially with your freshly painted white toes you’d propped up on the coffee table to dry. The last thing you wanted was to ruin them by getting dust on them while answering the door when Gojo wasn’t even supposed to be here right now.
“BBL, y’all.”
Reluctantly ending the call, you switched over to your Ring camera app.
Sure enough, the security feed loads to reveal Gojo, grinning up at the camera with his glasses perched on the brim of his nose and a large pink shopping bag in hand.
Huh? There’s no way he’s off-work already!
Taking note of the time it reads 1:30 p.m. confirming that Jujutsu society’s strongest sorcerer is skipping out on work, again—pshh typical.
“C’mon babe, let me in!”
Urgh, what was he even doing here?!
Shouldn’t he be the one leading the charge to kill all the doppelgängers? The faster he exorcized them, the sooner you’d finally be able to go outside again.
This doppelgänger outbreak felt like covid quarantine all over and it sucked!
Satoru needed to get his ass back to work so you wouldn’t waste the best years of your life cooped up inside!
“Go away, doppelgänger!”
You use the intercom feature to speak to Gojo, still not budging from the sofa.
Gojo pouts.
“But it's me, baby! Open the door Bunny bae, please I missed you princess—it’s been too long!”
Satoru’s annoyingly pretty baby blues look even bigger as he pleads into the camera, his lip quivering, making you roll your eyes.
It’s barely been 48 hrs since you’ve last seen him and he still blows up your texts all day!
But the world’s strongest sorcerer was also the world’s clingiest—so you suppose his doppelgänger would be too. Although, you were pretty sure this was the real deal, that still didn’t mean you wouldn’t give him shit for skipping out on work.
“Huh, that’s funny because there's no way you could be my boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, the strongest—and the one who is supposed to be making sure I’m not stuck in the house for another 2 years. It’s been freaking 2 weeks already Toru, I’m going batshit in here!”
Pushing his glasses back in place Gojo hides his scoff, standing up straight.
Shit.
He hopes you aren’t onto him.
Sure, he could have contained this whole thing in a few days tops.
Despite the doppelgänger ability to mimic appearances and cursed energy patterns, Gojo’s Six Eyes could see right through it easily. His power allowed him to perceive the core of a soul with perfect clarity, instantly distinguishing the souls of a human and a curse.
But instead of resolving the problem quickly, Gojo made up all kinds of excuses to you (and especially to the higher-ups) about why it was taking longer than expected.
The truth was, simple though—for once, just this once, he decided he had earned the right to be selfish.
Not having met you until after the covid quarantine, Gojo had never experienced that kind of isolation with you—and was immensely jealous that your last boyfriend had. Now that he had a taste of it, there was nothing he wanted more than to keep his lil bun-bun safely caged up, waiting for his return everyday (and he did try to make it back everyday).
Okay, so he is in fact being really selfish.
Luckily for everyone else though, most of these doppelgänger curses are relatively harmless other than causing absolute chaos with their mere existence alone—unfortunately they could also be seen by people even lacking cursed energy.
Gojo took care of the stronger ones, the ones with more nefarious intentions, while letting the little ones continue to run loose—all so he could have you to himself.
Unbeknownst to you, Gojo is intentionally sentencing you to what seems like a never ending cycle of boredom so that when he finally gets home you cling to him like a grain of sweet sticky rice. So eager for any external stimuli or interaction you’d be up for all manner of his perversions you’d normally shoot him down for.
That didn’t mean you weren’t still a brat though, making him work for it—something that Gojo also noted was his fault though for spoiling you rotten, not being able to deny you anything. So you pretend to be annoyed when he showed up, but Gojo knew the truth—those thick thighs of yours would soon have your slick running down. Your cute, slutty lil pussy dripping would start dripping the moment you’d hear his voice.
Yeah, yeah, he’d get rid of those things eventually—but Gojo was going to enjoy this quarantine with you for a bit longer.
“Even the strongest need a break baby! I need my sweet lil’ energizer Bunny to recharge my batteries, eh?”
You crinkle up your nose seeing him wiggle his eyebrows on camera.
He's such a dorky cornball.
“And this break…it’s approved by Yaga, hm?” Gojo whines at your questioning, not wanting you to deny him any longer nor throw technicalities in his face he didn’t wanna have to answer.
“Come on, Bunny! I even brought you real nice gifts to show you how much I missed you!”
The hot pink shopping bag sways in front of the camera, Gojo dangling it as if it were supposed to be a tempting treat.
But he’d have to do better than some generic pink shopping bag to impress you!
You’ve gone back to your toenails, starting to apply the top coat while you let him squirm out there for a while longer. You knew he could break the barrier in the blink of an eye but you also knew that he was a big enough baby to want you to let him in on your own.
Well tough luck brah.
“That sure doesn’t look like a Chanel shopping bag, Toru!”
“Um, that’s cause it’s not—Bunny you told me you don’t even like me picking you out clothes anymore!”
You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes—of course you said that as whenever Gojo picked something out for you, it ended up being the most scandalous or over-the-top piece in the store. How he would even managed that at a classy brand like Chanel, you had no idea. (Though, little do you know, in reality, he always acted they were ready-to-wear while they were custom-made—just for you.)
“I got us some toys, baby bun! Don’t you wanna play with me?”
You don’t need to ask him ‘what kind of toys’ from the goofy ass expression that is on his face.
“That’s not making me want to let you in at all, Doru!”
“Hah? Wha—Doru!?”
“Yeah, short for Dopple-Toru.”
You try to keep a straight face but can’t help giggling as you sneak a peek at your phone, still putting on as if you're completely ignoring him. His expression on the camera is priceless though and you wish you could snap a screenshot of his mouth wide open, glasses nearly sliding off, looking utterly incredulous.
“Hey! Come on, Bunny bae, that's not funny! I know you know it’s me—and I also know your pretty pussy misses me!”
Oh knew, it was your perv ass boyfriend and yeah you did miss him—but you missed your freedom more! And for that reason you are gonna make him think twice before trying to skip out on work again. Not to mention, for having the nerve to show up once you finally found something interesting to stave away your boredom other than him!
“Hmm, I don’t know—prove it then, Doru…”
While Gojo loves goading you into playing games and usually lets you win them too, after nearly 48 ‘grueling hours’ away from you, all he wants now is to simply relax in your company. Ya know, nothing too crazy, just the typical cuddles with him calmly resting his face on your titties while his cock nestles deep up against your cervix—just something casual.
Gojo calling your bluff, ups the ante.
“Heh, kay…”
You’re actually not paying attention this time, admiring your work on your toes and contemplating on the color you should paint your fingernails as Gojo goes silent for a moment.
Yet once you hear a loud zip, the rustling of fabric, and a belt clank to the ground your eyes practically bulge out of your head as you grab your phone, bringing it comically close to your face while blinking multiple times just to be sure.
Satoru quite literally has dick and balls out, dangling in the breeze, in front of the entire goddamn neighborhood!
And despite your initial horror and best efforts to remain upset, you pause, your inner slut causing a slight brain malfunction—as even from the small ring camera you can see his deliciously thick cock bobbing fully erect while his mushroomy tip shamelessly drips viscous globs of pre onto your welcome mat.
Thankfully your short-circuiting of common sense only lasts a few seconds before it starts functioning again.
“TORU HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING SUGAR-FUELED MIND!? YOU KNOW THE HOA IS ONE MORE INCIDENT AWAY FROM KICKING ME OUT, RIGHT!?”
Sighing, you groan in dismay as you’ve been on thin ice with your HOA for a while now because of Gojo.
Not only have you received the most noise complaints in the neighborhood by far, but he also made ‘alterations’ to your home by installing unsanctioned rows of cypress trees. Claiming it was a safety precaution to block the view inside your home from your ‘sketchy neighbors.’ He also ever so obnoxiously takes up 2 parking spots on the street so no one could even “park too close to scratch his Benz” and even sometimes double parked in front of your neighbors house when all the street parking was taken.
You would most definitely be kicked out if anyone in the neighborhood saw all of Gojo’s fairly large bits and pieces freely on display.
And yeah, Gojo did know that.
He also knew if you got kicked out and had to move you’d have no excuse then not to move-in with him.
Where else would you be able to stay on such short notice? He soon turn that temporary situation into a more permanent one too.
Finally leaping to your feet, you practically trip over yourself—all thoughts of preserving your polish forgotten—as you sprint to the front door.
You can’t get there fast enough, yet as soon as you do, you don't hesitate to lower the barrier and fling the door open.
“Hey sweetn—”
Cutting him off, you grab Gojo by his collar and yank him inside before slamming the door shut behind you.
But you don’t get a chance to scold him. The moment you turn to face him, your lips suddenly meet his, and his large frame envelops yours into a warm embrace.
Your first instinct is to push him away, but even when meeting your furious eyes he just grins knowingly—twirling his pointer finger in the air above him. You frown, confused, until it hits you—Gojo has set up another barrier over your own.
No one could have seen him, but he’d let you believe that so you’d let him in faster.
Urgh, Toru is far too crafty for his own damned good.
It's your turn to pout now, having clearly lost this round badly.
But Gojo doesn’t let the expression linger—his mouth is hot and hungry on yours again in an instant. Your soft lips are easily parted by his thumb as he slows to tease his way past your lips to glide his silken tongue into your mouth causing him to sigh—you taste sweeter than any candy to him.
The kiss soon turns more passionate as the strokes of his tongue flick longingly over yours, devouring you as he skillfully melts away your anger—in addition to all the bones in your legs. Reduced to a puddle of goo you completely forget you were just about to cuss him out as your legs now press together from the throbbing between your thighs. Your need becoming more agonizing as you grow dizzy from the lack of air.
When Gojo finally lets you breathe again, he chuckles at your dazed expression. Your lids are lowered and you press your body deeper into his own, clutching onto his collar as you nestle your face into his neck, savoring his scent washing over you.
“So despite all that sass, I take it you actually missed me then?”
You nod eagerly against his skin, in spite of yourself. Even though he isn’t supposed to be here right now, you can’t hold back any longer how happy you are to see him.
“And my pretty Bunny girl is going to let me play with her now?—All of her?”
You gasp as Gojo does not wait for an answer before slipping a hand into your shorts. Hissing at your heat, Gojo swipes his thumb over the outer folds of your cunt and his fingers quickly are becoming soaked before they even got the chance to get up inside you.
Placing a chaste kiss on your temple Gojo's agile fingers had merely confirmed what he already knew: You’re utterly drenched—his needy, cute lil’ pussy was quite literally begging for him and who was he to deny her?
ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩
“F—Fuck! P-pussy too good. Keep the phone up though, nice and straight Bunny! T-That’s it, you’re the best! SHIIIIT— n’you got the cutest sluttiest lil cunny! C-Can you get a close up of how well my cock is digging out your pretty lil’ bunny hole?”
“Mmmgh!”
Gojo’s filthy words and his even filthier fat cock are bringing you closer to your ecstasy filled ruin as they push you past your limits, engorged veins scraping your walls with every thrust. You're covered in sweat and your entire body buzzes—quite literally as there are vibrating clamps suctioned onto each of your nipples.
Mmmm, it all was driving you wild!
Not imagining yourself in this position when you woke up this morning at all.
Especially as initially, when Gojo said he bought toys, you thought he had meant fuzzy handcuffs, silken ropes or maybe even some more of that warm edible candle wax that tastes like strawberries—but all this!?
You could barely see out of your bleary, tear-filled eyes completely caking your cheeks in streaks of your mascara that while supposedly waterproof, definitely is not Gojo Satoru proof.
In addition to the mind-numbing bliss radiating off your swollen perky buds, your body was covered in some sort of edible oily slick. The warmth was initially similar to that of candle wax—yet morphed into anything but. This time the heat was coming from the flames your own body generated as the effects of the candied warming oil made every part of you saturated in the fluid buzz with need.
Of course, after soaking your body with it down the tips of your toes and paying extra attention to your nipples, Gojo had been thoughtful enough to pour the most of the remaining bottle over your throbbing lil’ clit.
Except now there isn’t just a shallow throb between your legs as the fiery sensation of every individual nerve in your cunt was cries out for him to ruin you harder.
Your legs are wrapped around him impossibly tight as your heels dig into the small of his back and yet somehow, he still manages to snake a hand between your slippery bodies to pet his favorite girly spot on you—your clit. Toying with the swollen nub in a painfully slow manner compared to the intensified thrashing of his hips against your own.
The motions only serve to push the heart-shaped platinum and pink sapphire adorned butt plug deeper into your ass with every loud vulgar smack of your wet bodies joining—the strange feeling of it jostling against the very walls his cock was drilling has you drooling as Gojo further tests the limits of passion he can push over.
“C’mon Bunny, you're going to miss the best part, ya better capture it really well how much squirt I can pump out of this cute cunny—or we’ll simply just have to do another take. Not that I’d mind spending all day in your pussy…”
You're not in your right mind to scold him for trying to skip out on more work and you certainly don't have the full capacities to hold his phone up any better—what with your hands were tied together over your head to the bed. Gojo utilizing the fuzzy cuffs afterall.
You can’t even really see if you are getting the right angle as you desperately hold onto the device, keeping it straight and upright lest it slip and drop right on your head.
“Always such a good girl for me huh, princess?”
Tuh—like he was giving you a choice!
You're unable to clap back though as your tongue, so lax from all the pleasure, sinks back to the roof of your mouth. The slobber gathered pools past your lips, over your chin, down your neck to your tits and Gojo is eager to slurp the train up your body and back to your lips, kissing you.
It goes without saying, but Gojo in ‘director’ mode is absolutely diabolical.
The reason being needs the perfect footage of him playing in your guts to make sure he had good enough material to fap to if you wanted him to spend more time away from you while he hunted down the doppel-curses.
“Be good for me a bit longer, ‘kay baby?”
Yet his gentle coos don’t match his demeanor.
Glasses long discarded, Gojo’s own blue eyes looked crazed. He’s unconcerned with the sweat matting his hair to the sides of his face or the wave of slick your pussy splashes onto his taut abs. Abs are shuddering from just how tight of a hold your pussy has on him—working him overtime as his heavy pants soon twist into deranged lil whines.
“M-Me and my lil’ buddy missed our two girls so, so, s-sooo much—AH-HAH-F-FAHHHCK! G-Gotta show ya just how much!”
Shamelessly, Gojo had dubbed his cock—his little buddy—the joke that would have emasculated some men but Gojo made it intentionally with the irony that he was anything but little.
“T-They were made for each other baby—lil’ buddy and the wet pretty girl between these thighs, yeah?”
The ham that he is, Gojo always sounds extra insane whenever a camera is recording, howling with amusement when he watches the playbacks. Yet in this very moment, he was as serious as a heart attack—and you definitely weren't laughing as your weeping pussy gets pounded into deeper into ecstasy filled oblivion.
“Shhh—Stawwp, S’toruuuuu!”
Tsk, you still could form a coherent thought?
That simply wouldn’t do for Gojo who is working so hard and bought all these new toys to see you come completely undone—and he needed you too soon as he wouldn’t last much longer in your squishy gooey core himself—not how your cunt was holding him in the wettest sluttiest lil hug.
There's still one item left that he hadn't used yet though, that in trying to keep up his sleeve he'd nearly forgotten about entirely—his own brain quickly leaving itself on simmer by your greedy lil’ pussy sucking him in so sloppy.
Slightly changing your position for more leverage, he throws one of your legs on his shoulder slotting himself between your cushy thighs while he straddles the other leg. Fucking you sideways with increasing intensity from the bruising grip on your hips pulling your pelvis towards on him as he meets your thrusts smacking directly into your cervix.
“Heh, I know what will finish you off! Ya ready to cum baby? Squirt all on this dick you love so much, eh Bunny?—Yeah ya fuckin' will.”
When you don’t answer right away Gojo delivers a harsh slap directly on your clit, the moisture causing the increased sting to intensify sending your senses into a state of floating. Yet, bringing you back to reality, another harsh smack lands on your cunt and you jerk against your restraints, nearly dropping the phone on your face for real this time.
You don’t understand what he's saying to you but you not regardless, eyes rolling back into your head—every single pore on your skin submerged in pleasure. Completely unaware, you don’t hear the additional buzz of the final toy until you feel its silicone lips latching onto your clit while the rigid faux tongue juts back and forth across your bud.
Eyes practically leaving your skull for the second time today, everything flashes white, blinding you even with your eyes wide open. A scream so guttural it comes out silent, the ball of tension in you finally bursting as releases flushes through your entire body.
Cumming harder than you ever had before, you just let go completely, gushing around Gojo’s thick cock still pistoning in your now drenched pussy. The splash zone from your cunt is quite a bit more than usual as a giant warm wet spot begins to soil and expand underneath you both.
Ears ringing, Gojo sounds a million miles away as you hear him chattering on about something—the phone?
You wiggle your fingers, realizing you must have dropped it, but you’re still clueless about what has him so excited—until Gojo’s voice finally slices through your haze, yelling out in absolute wonderment—
“HOLY SHIT BABY, DID YOU JUST PISS ON ME??? MMM FUCK ME FOR REAL!?—SHIT! YOU WETTER THAN A WATER PARK BUNNY—SO FUCKIN NASTY! PLEASEEEEEE PLEASEEEE TELL ME YOU GOT THAT ON CAMERA!”
Suddenly, it dawned on you that when you had let go, you had quite literally let it all go.
You could die—and if you could muster the strength to move you surely would have raced out to the backyard to quickly dig yourself a whole to do just that in. Yet that clearly would not an acceptable conclusion for your degenerate perv of a boyfriend who is acting like a sinner saved—praising pussy like a newly reborn evangelist baptized in the essence of your erotic filth.
His elation is simple as he figures how much you really had to trust him to be able to let go and lose yourself to him to that extent—now he wants to lose himself to you as well.
Easily drowning all inside your sloshing pussy like he never swam—Gojo doesn't stop, your pissing only encourages him to fuck himself further into a pussy drunk state to rival your own cock-induced stupor.
Yet, somehow he still maintains enough control to effectively lavish praises for how naughty and shameless your lil pussy is.
The frenzy drives him directly to his nut, eyes dilate further and slobber frothes past his lips while spearing his cock into you with renewed vigor. Whimpering and stuttering his words and hips alike. Gojo presses your leg draped across him back against you to be sandwiched between the two of you as leans forward to further ravage your swollen kiss bitten lips again.
Twisting you up like a pretzel and near the point of passing out from overstimulation you his insane joyous laughter sounds miles away as he topples over his peak pumping ropes of his vicious cum—that he’d been saving up for all you over the last two days—into your battered creamy core.
Gojo’s thrusts begin to slow but he’s in your guts just as far pushing cockhead right against your cervix stealing your lips into another fiery kiss.
Once Gojo finally lets you breathe air again, you’re completely out of it, the dopey blushing smile on your face. The embarrassment from pissing all over him is completely forgotten as hearts all for him linger in your eyes.
Sex with Toru was never dull to say the very least.
“There you go, there’s my good girl, huh Bunny? Not bored anymore baby?”
Gojo smirks down at you knowingly while peppering your face with sweet loving kisses as you’re steadily drifting off, allowing every exhausted nerve to claim you.
It's still a good minute before Gojo slides out of you, seeinghis discarded phone next to you—it's still recording. A mischevous smile plays on his lips.
Wanting to capture the aftermath of his handiwork, Gojo sweeps the phone across your body, thumbing off moisture from your dewy soft skin soiled with warming oil and sweat. Making sure to linger longer on your lightly heaving chest and the sporadic quiver of your thighs.
Zooming in even closer, Gojo’s two long fingers to part your swollen lips open, admiring more of his work—his masterpiece that was the copious amounts of cum and piss dribbling out of your abused lil’ hole down to the crack of your ass.
Now Gojo really has a dilemma—he wants to keep filming you as his cum, ever so slowly, trickles out of you. He thinks this scene would make the perfect time-lapse of the creamy sap seeping from your cunt like sugar maple. But he’s also fighting the urge to also suck all the creaminess out of you himself—the cum rimming around your puckered lower hole tempting him to Gojo start there and slurp and suck his way up your clit.
Truly, he never gets enough of how his taste mingles with yours—and he’s quite curious to know how the additional waterworks will add to your delectable flavor.
You were so fucking filthy and so willing to try new things all thanks to this doppel quarantine causing you to make this big a mess in the first place.
God he needed this.
More.
He had to have more from you.
Gojo couldn’t possibly bring this all to an end anytime soon. Cooing against your inner thigh Gojo makes a promise to your cunt.
“Heh, don't worry pretty girl, I'ma give you six more months of quarantine at least! Can't wait to—”
“—TORU, ARE YOU FUCKING SHITTING ME RIGHT NOW!?!?”
Whoops.
Yeah he definitely thought you were already fast asleep—teehee.
......RESULT: PASSED 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚕𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍—𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚒𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚎.
that's not my jjk man series (visit series page for full animation)
comment and reblog! next up toji, already finished posting—10/20
©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.
#✎ᝰ𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉¢σσкѕ#✎ᝰ𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉¢σσкє∂тнαт#gojo satoru smut#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#gojo smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojo headcanons#gojo thirst#satoru x reader#jjk crack#crack fic#anime fanfics#anime fanfic#jjk fanfic#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#satoru gojo#satoru x you#thats not my neighbor#thats not my neighbour fanfic#tnmn#tnmntober#tnmn fanart
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" THE KING'S OBSESSION "
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/35dab320a1f5d0020e6a8a255b61e355/5bb5ab3c39c889d9-38/s540x810/78e46008dad4be3475117340140e85cb4b99b56b.jpg)
read part 2 here
𐙚 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 — a ruthless ruler who commands loyalty from all, yet becomes a desperate, obsessive mess when it comes to you, willing to destroy kingdoms just to keep you by his side . . .
𐙚 Trigger Warnings: Obsession, power imbalance, emotional. manipulation, implied captivity, and threats of violence.
You kept your head down, your hands trembling as you scrubbed the grand marble floors of the royal palace. Just another nameless servant in the king's vast estate, you worked tirelessly to keep your place in a world that cared little for someone like you.
The rumors about King Adrian were whispered in hushed tones among the maids. He was ruthless, ruling with an iron fist, but his charm was undeniable. His mere presence could silence a room, his sharp green eyes piercing through even the bravest of souls.
You had only seen him from afar—until the day fate crossed your paths.
It happened when you were carrying a heavy vase filled with fresh flowers, your arms straining under its weight. You misstepped, the vase slipping from your grasp and crashing to the floor. The sound echoed through the grand hall, and your heart dropped into your stomach as you realized King Adrian himself had just entered.
He paused, his eyes landing on you. You froze, breath hitching as you knelt, frantically gathering the shattered pieces.
“I-I’m so sorry, Your Majesty,” you stammered, your voice trembling as you avoided his gaze.
“Leave it,” he said, his voice low but commanding.
You stopped, your hands stilling. Slowly, you dared to glance up, meeting his piercing green eyes. His expression was unreadable, his gaze intense as it swept over you.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Y/n, Your Majesty,” you whispered.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Y/n,” he repeated, as though savoring the sound of your name. “How fitting.”
---
From that day on, you felt his presence everywhere. The king would linger in the halls where you worked, his gaze burning into you. At first, you tried to dismiss it as your imagination, but the gifts began to appear.
A necklace of pearls left on your cot. A fine dress, far beyond anything a maid could afford, folded neatly on your small bed. The other servants whispered, their envy thinly veiled, but unease churned in your chest.
One evening, a royal attendant summoned you to the king’s chambers. Your heart pounded as you stood before the massive double doors, anxiety tightening your throat.
When you stepped inside, Adrian was seated by the fireplace, a glass of wine in his hand. He looked up and smiled, motioning for you to approach.
“You’ve caught my attention, Y/n,” he said, setting the glass down. “And I am not a man who lets go of what he desires.”
Your breath hitched. “Your Majesty, I’m just a maid—”
“You’re mine,” he interrupted, his voice firm and unyielding. “From the moment I saw you, I knew. No one else will ever have you.”
You stepped back, fear curling in your stomach. “Your Majesty, please. I don’t belong in your world.”
Adrian rose from his chair, his imposing figure towering over you. “You belong to me,” he said, his tone soft but laced with steel. “Whether you realize it or not.”
Tears pricked your eyes, and you shook your head. “I can’t… I can’t be what you want.”
He stepped closer, cupping your cheek in his hand. His touch was deceptively gentle, but the obsession in his gaze was unmistakable. “You already are,” he murmured, his thumb brushing your skin.
You flinched, trying to pull away, but his grip tightened. “There is no escape from me, Y/n. You will stay by my side—whether as my queen or my prisoner. The choice is yours.”
Your voice cracked as you whispered, “Why me?”
His smile darkened. “Because you’re perfect. Because you’re mine. And I will destroy anyone who tries to take you from me.”
#male yandere x reader#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere oc x reader#yandere x female reader#yandere
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⋆˚࿔ the best pillow 𝜗𝜚˚⋆
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/b2479b972e6d49adb7962fcb32778607/d0f75ddb5c2c6df7-b2/s540x810/262f8f3b2ce3f0104f96d0174d34a3c54ed33d37.jpg)
-the LaDS men cuddling with you and laying their heads on your lap (fluff)
୨ৎ── . Sylus
The living room was peaceful, bathed in the soft golden glow of the late afternoon sun. Sylus lay stretched out on the couch, his head resting on your lap, while a book was placed in his large hands. His white hair fell messily over his forehead, as his red eyes scanned the pages with sharp focus.
The low hum of music played from the speaker across the room, a slow, soulful tune drifting through the air.
You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair, scrolling through your phone, when you glanced down at him. “Hey, can I connect my phone to the speaker?”
Sylus didn’t look up from his book. “No.”
You blinked. “No?”
A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Listen and appreciate real good music, sweetie.”
You rolled your eyes, sighing dramatically. “You sound like an old man.” The comment made him smirk, but he didn’t respond, his eyes still on his book.
A slow, mischievous smile spread across your lips.
Sliding your fingers beneath the frame of his glasses, you gently pushed them down just enough to reveal his striking red eyes. Before he could protest, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss between his eyebrows, right at the root of his nose.
Sylus inhaled through his nose, his grip on the book tightening just a fraction. "I'm trying to read, kitten." he murmured, his voice as smooth as ever.
Feeling his body tense ever so slightly, you knew your 'attack' was effective. Bingo.
But you saw the way his ears tinged just the faintest bit red, the way his fingers twitched against the page.
A giggle escaped you and you felt him exhale, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.
Sylus shifted, pretending to be unaffected as he grabbed his phone to check what song was playing.
That’s when you saw it. Your gaze flickered to the screen and your teasing smile softened. The playlist title was clear as day.
“Songs That Remind Me of Y/N”
When Sylus noticed where you were looking, his thumb casually covered the screen, as if that would make you unsee it.
You grinned, warmth spreading through your chest. “You big softie.”
He scoffed but didn’t deny it. Instead, he flipped the page of his book, still looking entirely unfazed. But as you glanced down at him, you caught it—the barely-there smile playing at his lips.
Sylus’ free hand moved from your tight to intertwine with your own hand, before bringing it to his lips and plant a soft kiss on your knuckles.
୨ৎ── . Zayne
The clock struck midnight as Zayne stepped into the apartment, exhaustion weighing heavy on his broad shoulders. His dark hair was slightly disheveled from running his hands through it all day, and his sharp green eyes, usually so intense, were dulled with fatigue. But despite the ache in his muscles and the relentless pull of sleep, he made his way to the living room—because he had made a promise.
And Zayne never broke a promise to you.
"I'm fine," he said softly, his voice gentle despite the obvious tiredness in his tone. "Let’s get this done."
You were sitting on the couch, papers spread out around the couch and the coffee table, biting your bottom lip in concentration. At the sound of his quiet footsteps, you looked up.
"You're home," you murmured, a mixture of relief and concern in your voice. "Zayne, you look exhausted."
You sighed, but didn’t argue as he settled beside you, his broad frame sinking into the cushions. He leaned slightly toward you, your shoulders brushing as he picked up a form and started filling it out with his precise handwriting.
Minutes passed in comfortable silence. But with each passing moment, Zayne's pen moved slower, his eyes blinking sluggishly as he fought the exhaustion clawing at him.
Then, without warning, his head dipped forward before he caught himself.
You turned to him, your lips pressing together in fond exasperation. "Zayne…"
"I'm awake," he murmured, but his deep voice was quieter now, softer, laced with drowsiness.
Another few moments passed, and then—he slumped.
His head rested against your shoulder at first, his body leaning heavily into yours, before he finally slid down, laying his head on your lap with a deep exhale. His dark lashes fluttered once before his breathing evened out, the exhaustion finally winning.
You glanced down at him, your expression softening. Even in sleep, he looked serious, but there was a rare peace on his face that made her heart ache.
Gently, you adjusted his position, letting his head rest more comfortably on your lap. You ran your fingers through his black hair, smoothing it back, with a featherlight touch.
With a small smile, you picked up your pen again and continued working in silence, letting him recharge. After a while, you feel a big hand gently squeezing your leg. “You’re such a nice pillow, you know that?”
Zayne looks up at you with only one eye open and a tired but fond smile on his lips.
He nodded as a small yawn escaped his lips. “I’m sorry, next time I’ll be more helpful.” he whispered softly before falling asleep on you once again.
“Look who woke up! Hi sleepy head.” you tease him, caressing his cheek gently. “I’m almost over with these papers.”
୨ৎ── . Rafayel
Rafayel stretched out across the bed, his head resting on your lap, his eyes half-lidded with contentment. The soft fabric of your sweater brushed against his cheek as he exhaled slowly, savoring the warmth of your presence. But something was missing.
Your fingers weren’t running through his hair. You weren’t teasing him with a sly remark. You weren’t paying attention to him at all.
Instead, you were glued to your phone, your delicate fingers tapping away at the screen. Occasionally, you let out a quiet chuckle, further fueling his mild irritation.
Rafayel pouted. "Babe." No response.
Still nothing.
He shifted slightly, pressing his forehead against your lap. "Baaaabe."
A smirk curled at the edge of his lips as an idea formed. He nuzzled against you, his breath warm against your skin. Then, he let out the most dramatic sigh he could muster, his broad shoulders rising and falling with exaggerated defeat.
"Are you really going to ignore your very handsome, very lovely boyfriend, who just wants a little attention?" his voice was laced with playful desperation.
You hummed absently, still not looking up. "Mhm. Sounds tragic."
You snorted, shifting your head the slightest to peer down at him.
Rafayel gasped, clutching his chest as if you had mortally wounded him. "Tragic?! This is abuse, beloved. I'm starving for affection."
He was pouting, so you followed his instructions. “Yes?”
“Put your phone down..” he murmured, drawing patterns on your thighs with his fingers.
A grin tugs at the corner of his lips. “Hi gorgeous.” he smirks, as you grab his pretty face between your hands.
A pleased rumble vibrated from his chest as he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.
“You really become a brat if I don’t give you attention for five minutes, don’t you?” you chuckle, brushing your thumbs along his cheekbones.
"Yes," Rafayel declared, looking up at you with the biggest, most pitiful puppy-dog eyes his irises could manage. "Because my beautiful, sarcastic, heartless partner is ignoring me."
You bit your lip, trying—and failing—to suppress a laugh. "You are so dramatic."
You feign a sigh, when you feel him playfully biting your skin.
"And yet you love me," he shot back, smirking before going back to leaving pecks on her legs.
“Ouch!” you immediately half-heartedly slap his forehead, while he laughs amused by his actions.
“Stop it or I’m gonna crush your skull.” you playfully glare at him, but he just shrugs.
“A nice way to leave this world, not gonna lie.”
He proceeded to nibble her thigh again, so you squeeze his head between your legs, chuckling.
“Now beg.” you challenge him, raising one eyebrow. But he simply cackled, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to your thigh. "You really think I’m gonna complain about this?"
୨ৎ── . Xavier
The door clicked shut softly and Xavier stepped inside, his frame carrying an air of quiet exhaustion. His light-colored hair was slightly tousled, his big blue eyes dimmer than usual, lost in some distant thought. He didn’t say a word.
You knew this version of him well. The one that withdrew into silence when something weighed on his mind. He was lost in his own thoughts, tangled up in emotions he didn’t know how to put into words.
So you didn’t ask. Didn’t press. Instead, you took his hand, gently tugging him toward the bed. Xavier hesitated for a second before letting you guide him, his shoulders relaxing just a little under your touch. You pulled him down until he was lying on top of you, his head resting against your lap as you softly ran your hands through his hair.
With a small smile, you let your fingers drift from his hair down to his back, as you began tracing invisible shapes against the fabric of his shirt. At first, you just doodled—little swirls, hearts, nonsense patterns—letting him feel your presence without forcing him to talk.
Then, slowly, you spelled out the words.
I love you.
A heartbeat passed. Then another. You felt his breath hitch ever so slightly, his tense shoulders easing as if a weight had been lifted. So you kept going, tracing a small heart at the end.
Xavier shifted, turning his head just enough so he could glance up at you, his deep blue eyes no longer clouded. A soft, almost bashful smile ghosted his lips. Then, without warning, he rolled over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer in a way that was both shy and desperate.
His face was buried against your neck now, and you could feel his breath warm against your skin. Finally, he spoke—his voice quiet, but steady.
"…Again," he murmured.
You blinked. "Again?"
He nodded against you, his grip tightening slightly. A soft laugh escaped your lips before you resumed your gentle tracing of sweet nothings and hearts.
୨ৎ── . Caleb
Caleb sighed dramatically as he rested his back against the couch, his broad frame comfortably settled between your legs on the plush carpet. Your fingers worked gently through his thick brown hair, separating strands to weave into intricate braids. Every now and then, you’d clip a tiny butterfly or flower pin into place, giggling to yourself at how utterly adorable he looked.
He loved this. The feeling of your hands in his hair, your presence surrounding him. But there was one small problem.
He couldn't sit still.
His hands roamed absentmindedly, his fingers lightly tracing over the soft skin of your thighs. The warmth of your legs bracketing him was too tempting to ignore. Without thinking, he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her knee, then another, higher this time.
You huffed, tightening your grip on his hair just slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to warn him. "Caleb. Stop moving."
You rolled your eyes, though he couldn’t see it. "You're not supposed to try to resist. You're supposed to sit still and let me finish your hair."
He grinned. "But you're so soft" he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing along the inside of your thigh now. "How am I supposed to resist?"
Caleb chuckled, but he didn’t stop. His hands squeezed your legs gently, thumbs stroking the inside of your thighs in slow, teasing circles. "M’sorry, baby," he muttered, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. "You're just really distracting."
"I’m distracting?" You scoffed. "You’re the one squirming like a hyperactive puppy while I’m trying to make you pretty."
"Hm..pretty, huh?" He smirked, tilting his head back against your stomach, his striking purple eyes gazing up at you. "Does that mean you're finally admitting you like playing with my hair?"
"Okay, okay." Caleb raised his hands in surrender. "I'll behave."
You flicked his forehead, making him laugh. "I've always liked playing with your hair. I just don't like when you make it impossible to finish."
"Good." You started braiding again, your fingers moving deftly through his locks. For about ten seconds, he actually sat still. Then his lips ghosted over your thigh once more, this time leaving a soft bite.
"Caleb!" He burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking with amusement. "I tried to behave, I really did," he said between chuckles. But then he finally stopped moving around and let you finish your masterpiece. “Wanna grab something to eat later?”
“But it took me so long to make these braids.” you pout slightly, already sad at the idea of having to remove all the cute clips from his hair.
“Who said I’m gonna take them out? Everyone needs to see what an amazing job you did!”
#lads#love and deepspace#l&ds#lnds#lads headcanons#lads fanfic#lads imagine#lads fluff#sylus#sylus x reader#sylus headcanons#sylus imagine#zayne#zayne x reader#zayne imagine#zayne headcanons#rafayel#rafayel x reader#rafayel headcanons#rafayel imagines#xavier#xavier x reader#xavier headcanons#xavier imagines#caleb#caleb x reader#caleb headcanons#caleb imagine
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City of Love
Pairing: The Salesman x fem!Reader
Summary: Months after winning the Squid Games, you receive an unwanted visit from the man who's been haunting you since the very beginning.
Word count: 5k
Warnings: smut (minors dni), drinking, sex in a public place, some murderous thoughts. Don't be fooled by the title, it's very much not a fluffy romantic fic lol.
*
The City of Love.
At least, that's what everyone calls it. It felt like the place to be after all the horrors you had endured in the past year – horrors you don't dare to say a word about to another soul. Friends and acquaintances have told you about how great it is, how beautiful, how magical. About how just a few days here will heal any woes in your heart.
Of course, it didn't work. Now you're just depressed in Paris.
It's not all bad. The Eiffel tower looks just as pretty as it does in pictures, especially late at night when it lights up and sparkles. The historic architecture and cobblestone streets are a nice break from the modern buildings you're used to from Seoul, so different it almost erases the memories sometimes. Never for too long. Just when you think you're slipping back into something resembling normalcy, they return in your nightmares in the shape of blood, pink jumpsuits and children’s games.
This afternoon, it takes the shape of a ghost – a tall, handsome man, whose face you’ve only ever seen in dreams and in the subway lines of Seoul.
All color drains from your face in a matter of seconds, all that pink winter flush.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
He smiles, like you're an old friend. It nearly throws you off your balance by how natural it looks, like he's not forcing it.
“Beautiful city, isn't it? Especially at this time of the year.”
This can't be happening. The whole reason you left South Korea was to put distance between yourself and those horrific games, and all the people associated with them. To just run into one right here, in a different continent, mere months after your victory; it makes you feel like you're about to pass out.
You stand up from your seat and walk right out of the patisserie, leaving your ridiculously overpriced hot chocolate nearly untouched on the table.
You knew, somehow, that he would follow you, but you still prayed he wouldn’t. That it had been your imagination, or the PTSD, or anything other than the Salesman himself crossing paths with you in Paris.
“I expected a warmer welcome,” a voice behind you says, making you pause your stroll down the street. Fortunately – or maybe unfortunately – you still haven’t completely lost track of what's real and what's not, and you can tell that voice is real, clear as day. He’s real and here and that terrifies you to your very core.
Turning around to face him, you hate how he still looks every bit as infuriatingly handsome as he did the first time you saw him.
“What are you doing here?” you repeat, your voice shaky and not nearly as incisive ad you’d like it to be.
“Visiting,” he replies. He turns to gaze at the scenery around you. In your hurry to get away from him, you didn't even realize you ended up at the Pont Neuf, the old bridge crossing the Seine River. Dusk settles around the two of you, the purple-ish color of the sky reflected on the river, almost too pretty for this situation. “Like I said, France is quite nice during the winter.”
You scoff. “You expect me to believe it's just a big coincidence that you and I ended up in the same place, five thousand miles away from home, at the same time?”
“Small world, isn't it?”
“I’m serious. I did everything you people wanted. I beat the games, I took the money and I kept my mouth shut. You were supposed to leave me the fuck alone.”
“Did what we wanted?” Something in his smile changes, shifts from warmth to something more sinister. “We never forced you to do anything. Remember that. You brought whatever happened on yourself.”
Cold air rushes over you, drawing a shiver out of you. It's not snowing yet, but it start might soon. It's hard to remember you were once excited for it.
He reaches out, ignoring the warnings in your eyes as he runs a finger over the smooth fabric of your scarf, then wraps it around your neck one more time. It’s almost a tender gesture, if he was someone else entirely. It should have you flinching, or slapping his hand away. Instead, it only makes you freeze in your spot.
“Yves Saint Laurent,” he notes. “I see you’ve been making good use of that money.”
It doesn't sound accusatory, but it feels like it anyway. Even after months, it still feels wrong to use the money, despite all the literal blood, sweat and tears it took to get it. Like you should be gathering it all in a pile and setting fire to it in protest. But what would that change? Why shouldn't you be allowed to use it to build a new life for yourself?
So you stayed in five star hotels. So you bought a few more pairs of Louboutin shoes than necessary. Therapy was out of the question, so this was the next best thing you could come up with for the time being. Best-case scenario, a therapist would think you're a nutcase. Worst case, they’d turn you in to the authorities for confessing to multiple murders you had committed at the Squid Games. You didn’t want to take the risk.
“I thought that was the idea,” you say. The Salesman’s hands are still on the fabric, merely touching it, but that doesn't stop your mind from picturing him gripping it, pulling on it until you suffocate in the garment you bought as some empty, mediocre sign of victory.
“It suits you.” He lets his hands fall with no damage to your throat or to your respiratory system. “Much better than those knock-offs you used to wear.”
It disturbs you that he even remembers that. As far as you know, you were only one of the hundreds of people who had played ddakji with him at the subway station. You remembered every second of it, replayed it in your mind over and over again, but there was nothing particularly memorable about you back then. You lost most rounds. You hoped against hope that he would ask you out, even after your cheek was red and stinging.
That was a different version of you. One that smiled more, even with all the hardships in your life. One that was too naive to realize she was selling her soul to the devil from that very first game of ddakji.
“Since the city brought us together,” the Salesman says, “I’d like to buy you a drink.”
It would be impossible to keep the surprise from your face if you’d tried. Those are words you would've loved to hear all those months ago, and now that he says them, you can barely draw enough air into your lungs to tell him to fuck off.
“Why? So you can kill me the second we’re off the street?”
He chuckles, like he finds your confusion amusing. “Why would I do that?”
“Isn't that why you're here?” Why else would it be, after all? Maybe it's part of their sick games; to give one person the illusion of victory, let them enjoy the money for a few months, then go after them and kill them. Or worse, pull them back in.
“If I wanted to kill you, I could do it anywhere.”
You suppose there's no arguing with that, but you're not sure if it makes you feel better. Good news: you're still breathing. Bad news: you're still breathing only until he allows you to.
“You still didn't tell me why you came after me, then,” you point out.
“Let's have a drink, and I’ll tell you.”
You must be insane for even considering this. The naive girl that had first seen him in the subway, coming home late at night from work, would be enthusiastically urging you to go. You’re supposed to know better than her.
“One drink,” you say. “Then you go home and never contact me again.”
His smile widens. “I know a nice place.”
*
He brings you to a piano bar just a few blocks away from the bridge. It's a fancy place, the kind that makes you feel underdressed even in your designer clothes. He blends right in – not only because of the sleek, tailored suit, but because of his demeanor, the natural elegance with which he carries himself.
Not for the first time, you wonder if he was born into wealth, or if he was ever like you. Someone who had to claw his way out of poverty. You can't picture it, but there's so much you don't know about him. It's what makes him so scary and confusing to you, but also so damn intriguing.
He orders for you before you have the chance to open your mouth. Dom Pérignon, two glasses. You raise your eyebrows once the waiter walks away.
“Are we celebrating something?”
“Your victory.”
The response makes your stomach drop. “I don't want to celebrate that.” Not with anyone, but especially not with him.
He gives a small shrug. “Just a special occasion, then.”
The dimmed, warm lights of the bar make the place feel so intimate, almost romantic in a sense. You don't know what to make of it, so you force yourself to look away from him, even when you can still feel his stare unflinching on you. Luckily, the waiter shows up just in time, pouring you both glasses of the bubbly drink and leaving the bottle in a bucket on the table.
You turn back to the Salesman, glaring at him. “I said one drink, not one bottle.”
“You never specified,” he replies, fake innocence in his eyes. “Gives us more time to catch up. Maybe even play a game, for old time’s sake.”
The mere mention of a game makes you want to run away, to lock yourself in the restroom and refuse to come out. It has to be intentional; he has to know what kinds of things would be running through your head, after everything you’d gone through. You take a long gulp of the champagne, nearly done with the entire glass in one go. You can't let him get to you like this. You do your best to look unbothered.
“Do you walk around with ddakji tiles everywhere?” you ask. “Just in case you find someone who wants to play?”
That earns a soft laugh out of him. “No, not ddakji.”
He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out what looks like a standard deck of cards.
“Have you ever played blackjack?”
You have, but hesitation is written all over your features. “What if I don't want to play?”
“Do you think I’d force you?” he asks, like you're a fool for even thinking so. “Like I said, you were never forced to do anything. It's your choice.” He sips his own champagne in a much classier, more contained way than you. Like he's happy to draw this out for hours, rather than wanting this night to be over as soon as possible. “But you’ve beaten much harder games before. This should be nothing for our big victor, right?”
There's a challenge in his voice, in his eyes. You should know better than to fall for it. So why is there a part of you that still feels like you have a point to prove? That feels like, with a little bit of luck and skill, you can finally beat this man at his own game?
“Fine.” You cross your arms over the table. “Let’s do this.”
Pleased with your answer, he shuffles the cards in his hands. You watch him, almost as mesmerized as you’d been watching him play ddakji at the subway station. It's so hard not to get lost in it, but you refuse to look away in shyness and hesitation again, keeping your eyes on him as you sip the rest of the champagne in your glass.
He refills it before placing four cards on the table: two facing upwards for you, one face-down and one face-up for himself, the dealer.
The rules are simple: your cards all together need to get as close to 21 without going over. Whichever one of you gets the closest wins the round. You have a nine and a four, totaling thirteen. The Salesman has a five, and a card that's invisible for you.
“Hit me,” you say, figuring your odds can't be too bad.
He places one more card to your pile: a seven. Twenty in total. Your heart speeds up inside your chest, already triumphant even before the end.
He reveals all his cards to you: the five you’ve already seen, a nine, and a three. Seventeen. Your smile widens, relief washing over you like you’d just escaped a near-death experience. You don't think beating a game, no matter the kind, will ever not feel like this again.
“Not bad,” he compliments. He reaches into another pocket for his wallet, drawing a hundred euro note and pushing it towards you on the table.
You just stare at it with an eyebrow raised, baffled and, frankly, a bit offended. With the tip of your index finger, you push the bill back to him.
“Do you really think I still need your money?”
“It's just symbolic,” he argues, but still tucks the money back into his wallet. “Of course, we can bet on other things too, if you’d prefer.”
“What kind of things?”
“Whatever you want. You won.”
“Whatever I want?” A grin stretches across your lips as you lean forward on the table. “Like a dare?”
He leans forward as well, like he wants to meet you in the middle. His eyes never leave yours. “Like a dare.”
You wonder just how far he’d take this game, if he would do something outrageous or serious just because you told him to. Maybe not. But even this is the kind of power that you never, ever imagined you would have over this man.
“Okay. Let me see your wallet.”
He hands it over without a fight. You rummage through all of it, ignoring all the cash and instead looking for something else, anything personal. But there's nothing. No family photos, no old receipts, not even a condom tucked inside one of the pockets. At last you find his ID license, the name Park Ha-Joon listed beside a smiling picture of him that looks so normal you almost want to laugh.
“It's not your real name, is it?”
He smiles. “Smart girl.”
“It was worth a shot.” You close the wallet and hand it back to him.
He shuffles the cards, hands them over again. Seven and six. You tap the cards in a sign for him to hit you with one more.
“Do you really want to know why I came to see you?”
Your eyes snap in his direction, not even looking at the new card that’s placed in front of you.
“I thought you’d be one of the first to die in a place like that.” He looks focused on the game as he talks, “When I found out you were the winner, I wanted to see it for myself.”
Your throat tightens, making it hard to draw in my next breath. You look around yourself, as if trying to make sure you're really here and not at that disturbing colorful scenario, or at the bunk beds in the dorm. Still the piano bar. Warm lights, soft chatter of conversation, piano notes ringing through the air. The mental image of that place still doesn't vanish from your mind.
“See what, exactly?” you ask, even though you know it would be better not to.
“If you truly earned it, or if you’re just one more piece of trash who got lucky, like all the others before you.”
Your hand must twitch, an involuntary movement you're not even aware of, and the Salesman places another card to your pile. You look down at it in horror, realizing all the cards together total to twenty-three.
“I didn't say hit me,” you protest.
“You tapped. You know that's the sign.” He looks over the cards again, as if just noticing the source of your distress instead of directly causing it. “Too bad.”
It's not fair, and you both know it, but you doubt pointing it out will make a difference. You bite your tongue around any words as well as the lump that's formed in your throat, tears trying to rush to the surface. Your gaze meets his and holds it.
“Are you going to slap me?”
He’s still for a moment, considering it. It's one thing to hit you in the face in a mostly-empty subway station late at night, and another entirely to do it in this sophisticated bar, with all these people around as witnesses. Still, you don't doubt that he would do it. You hold yourself back from flinching when his hand comes out, bracing yourself for the impact.
It never comes. Instead, his hands merely cup your cheeks, tilting your face to face him fully. He looks at you like he's studying you, his expression unreadable.
“Not now. I want something else,” he says. “A round of shots.”
His grip on your face is firm, but he runs the pad of his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone, like wiping away a teardrop that never fell. A gesture that can only be described as affectionate, and it's messing with your head way more than the slaps on the face did.
You nod.
He holds on for just a second too long before he lets you go. He orders the shots to the waiter – you pay no attention to the brand, or even the type of booze –, and you don't say another word until after they're placed in front of you on the table, small glasses so clean they gleam under the light.
“I crawled my way out of that hell,” you tell him. “You have no idea what I had to do to survive. You don't get to sit here and tell me I didn't fucking earn it.”
He looks more amused than anything. “To kill for necessity, anyone can do. It doesn't make you as special as you think it does.” He nods towards the shot on the table, reaching for his own. “Drink.”
You count one, two, three in your head before throwing the shot back, unable to suppress a grimace when the drink comes down your throat like liquid fire.
“Why do you wanna get me drunk so bad?”
He empties his shot glass as well. “Drinking together ensures none of us has an advantage.” He picks up the deck of cards again, before you ever have the chance to tell him you’ve had enough of this game. The words die down in your throat.
One more round. Your cards add up to seventeen.
It’s too risky to ask for one more card; anything higher than four would mean an instant loss. Only then you notice the sweat under your palms, the rush in your ears overpowering the piano music in the background. You force yourself to take a deep breath, to remember that your life is not on the line anymore and losing doesn't mean certain death, even though it feels like it.
He reveals his cards. Eighteen.
“Fuck.”
He seems pleased with himself, accessing you as you brace yourself for whatever he has in mind for you now.
“Come a little closer,” he orders.
You frown, but you find yourself obeying without much questioning, getting up from your chair to slide to the seat next to him on the booth.
He pours you both more Dom Pérignon, and this time he doesn't have to tell you to drink. You focus on the way the bubbles dance inside your mouth, if only to have something to distract yourself from his proximity, from the faint smell of his cologne or from the fact he still hasn't told you what he wants from you for losing this round
His hand lands on your thigh.
You jump in surprise, and his hand tightens its grip there, digging into your skin and keeping you in your seat. Your eyes widen and search for his, a question clear in them.
With his free hand, the Salesman pushes the cards in your direction. “You’ll be the dealer now,” he says, “and for each time you lose, I get to keep my hands on you for one more round.”
Say no, you tell yourself. Say something. A better, stronger woman would throw the champagne in the glass on his face and walk right out of this bar. Instead, you find yourself still as a statue, a sudden rush of warmth overflowing your senses – first, it rises to your face, coloring your cheeks red, then it travels lower to the pit of your stomach and down right into the space between your legs.
You can’t even tell if it’s the alcohol, spreading through your bloodstream and bringing a buzzing sensation to your head that’s not all unpleasant, or the fact you haven’t been touched like this in what feels like forever, or simply the man sitting next to you. How many times had you fantasized about this, until you realized that he was the catalyst of your ruin?
Maybe even a few times after that.
You take the deck of cards. He grins like he knew you would, like a master pleased with a dog following his command. You want to wipe that look off his face, but you can barely concentrate enough to properly shuffle the cards.
If you felt like you were fighting for your life before, it’s nothing compared to right now. The hand doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as twitch until the very final moments of the round, when you realize the two of you are tied. A fingertip slides up the fabric of your stockings until it stops at your knee, your skin erupting in goosebumps following the movement. Your heart beats so hard inside your chest you can barely hear the chatter of people around you as the bar fills in with people.
You lose the next round, and the next, and the one after that. You can’t even tell if you’re doing it on purpose anymore.
With each passing minute that you don’t push him away, that you allow him to test and cross your boundaries, he gets more daring, drawing shapes in the perimeter of your leg and curling into your inner thigh. Your chest rises with a breath that comes tumbling out, the sound of it way too close to a whimper for your liking.
You can tell he notices it instantly, observant and apparently fluent in your body language like he’s spent years of his life studying it. He takes the opportunity to let his hand wander under your skirt, to the spots it hadn’t covered yet.
That’s enough. You need to win this next round.
It’s like, for once, God listens to your prayers. Your cards add up to an even, perfect twenty-one to his nineteen.
He retrieves his hand as if on cue. You thought you would be gasping in relief, but what comes out instead is a pitiful, almost desperate don’t.
He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t as in stop?” he asks. “Or as in don’t stop?”
Your body answers the question for him before your mind can even process what happened, grabbing his hand and pulling it to the spot where it was. Your skin comes ablaze the second he touches you again, like his touch is charged with electricity.
“Did you know,” you can feel his breath so close to you when he speaks, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “that you were the first person who ever challenged me to play ddakji at the subway? Usually it’s the other way around. Nobody but you ever made the first move.”
It’s hard to concentrate on his words like this, with his body leaning into yours and his hand that still touches you under the table and– whoa, that is not your thigh. The solid press against your core makes your whole body twitch, but you don’t jerk away. You try to focus on the memory.
“I didn’t give a fuck about the game,” you reveal. “I just wanted you to notice me.”
“I know.” He draws small, precise circles over you. “Do you ever think about how I would’ve left you alone otherwise?”
Of course you do, more than you would ever admit. But having him confirm it hurts. It’s bad enough to know you’re the one who caused all the trauma you’ve been through since meeting him, that you could’ve just carried on with your life, shitty as it as, if only you weren’t a foolish girl with a crush on a stranger. But to be in his arms right now, your head falling over his shoulder and your lips releasing a tiny whimper; it just makes it all the more fucked up.
“Was it worth it?”
The smile on your lips is devoid of any humor. “Never.”
“Let me prove to you that it was.”
Just like that, everything stops. He scoots away from you in the booth and stands up, bringing all the heat with him aside from the faint lingering warmth on your face. He leaves a few bills over the table, enough for the entire tab, and walks away.
He doesn’t head towards the front door, instead making his way to the opposite direction. You watch him, confused, for a few moments before you trail after him, past the kitchen and the restrooms until you see the red glow of an exit sign.
A chilly breeze rushes over you the second you step outside, and you expect to see him walking into the dark narrow street. But he’s waiting for you, leaning against the brick wall behind him. He raises his eyebrows in that same condescending way he’s done all night, daring you to make the next move.
You don’t hesitate for even a second longer. You grab a fistful of his impeccable suit jacket and pull him closer, crashing your lips together.
From the start, it’s not sweet or gentle. He digs his fingers into your hips hard enough to bruise, wasting no time before he lifts you up into the air and pins you against the wall. You gasp into his mouth, parting your lips and practically begging his tongue inside. Your legs part almost in unison, allowing him to settle between them and effectively trap you, his larger frame blocking any exit.
As if you would dream to get away.
In one swift movement, he reaches between your legs and rips at the fabric of your stockings, the sound echoing through the empty street. You’re already making quick work of his belt; or trying to, frustrated by your lack of mobility from his position. He doesn’t seem willing to let you go, so he does it himself instead, pulling his pants down just enough to free himself from the confines of his underwear.
You’ve soaked through your panties in whatever time it took to play all those rounds of blackjack. It felt like it was drawn-out for hours, but you know it couldn’t have been more than just a few minutes. He moans when he feels it, before he even pushes into you – a heavenly, otherworldly sound, one you want to hear again and again. You push your hips towards him, feeling yourself throb when he rubs his length over you, burning hot where skin meets even though everything around you is cold. He rewards you with another sound that you drink right in as you deepen the kiss, happy to never have your lips separate from each other ever again.
He pushes the fabric of your panties to the side and thrusts into you without a warning, drawing a strangled, sharp gasp from you. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to the invasion, setting up a punishing pace that pushes you against the wall hard with every thrust. You claw at his back, losing the ability to form coherent thoughts, helpless to stop it as he all but consumes you like this is his last chance to.
“Ah– fuck,” you have to break away from his lips to attempt to draw in some air, your breaths and sounds interrupted by the rhythmic, vicious snaps of his hips into yours. He takes the opportunity to tilt his head and follow the line of your jaw with his lips, to mouth kisses and graze his teeth over your throat.
Hands find their way under pieces of clothing, trying to cling to as much bare skin as they can. He does most of the work, still holding you up in the air with the help of the wall (you curl your toes just to test the waters, the ones on the foot closest to the ground, and they barely touch the pavement), bouncing you on his cock however he sees fit, and it’s embarrassing how close you are already just from this.
“Fuck, baby, that’s so good.”
It’s intoxicating how vocal he is, all the grunts and moans he breathes into your neck, how it rips more sounds out of you than you would usually make. The street is completely silent save for the two of you, not another soul in sight. You could kill him right here and he would never see it coming. Gut him with the knife tucked away in your purse, leave him on the pavement gasping for his last breath. Who would catch you? You have enough money to run to yet another country, to give yourself a new identity and reinvent yourself as many times as you want.
The purse is on the floor where you’d carelessly let it fall, out of reach. Still you run your hands down over his bottom, feeling for any guns or weapons he may have tucked into the back of his waistband, or hidden in his pockets. There’s nothing, but you don’t have a lot of time to be disappointed about it before you’re coming with a high-pitched, broken shout, like your orgasm has taken you by surprise. He holds you up, squeezing you against the wall for support, the only thing stopping you from falling straight to the floor.
The Salesman follows right after, a stream of goods and fucks and your name falling from his lips as he spills deep into you. You wish you had it in you to be offended, to tell him off for it. But all you can think about is how much you wish you knew his name so you could shout it, gasp it, whisper it, for as long as he keeps holding you this tight.
#salesman x reader#the salesman x reader#the recruiter x reader#gong yoo x reader#squid game x reader#the salesman x you#my fics
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