#full face mask might not fly

[chubby-bun-bun]

untitled (part 3)

You reunite with your crow friend! But it seems to need your help with… a man?

one, two, three (current), four, five

tags: sylus x reader, an au where you're an average citizen, slow burn, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of blood and death, bossman is here yay

“Congratulations! You’ve just won the loyal customer raffle at Linkon Supermarket!”

“But I shop at Bloomshore Mart.”

“Yup, congratulations!”

You furrow your brows, eyeing the paper the delivery driver is enthusiastically waving in your face. Sure enough, it announces the conclusion of the famous supermarket’s year-end raffle, and there it is: your full government name printed neatly under “winner.”

Beyond his shoulder, you notice the other worker unloading boxes from the delivery truck. He’s dressed in the same uniform, with identical dark curls and also sporting a black face mask. He catches your gaze and gives a lazy thumbs-up.

There must be something wrong with your memory, because you could swear you haven’t stepped foot in Linkon Supermarket in years—let alone registered for their raffle. That place isn’t exactly known for catering to the humbler economic classes.

And it’s still 5:30 a.m. Have supermarkets always done graveyard shift deliveries?

“Thanks…” You squint at the driver’s name tag. “…Lukas.”

“No problem!”

Once the two workers finish unloading and stacking boxes of who-knows-what in your living room, they wave cheerfully before speeding off down the street. Half-asleep, you manage only a bemused wave in return.

You think you might’ve been cursed. Or blessed. It’s hard to say. Because ever since your crow friend escaped a week ago, it feels like you’ve already blown through a lifetime’s worth of luck.

In the span of days, you’ve gotten a raise and better employee benefits (odd, considering you’re still just an assistant manager), won lifetime vouchers for three of your favorite food spots, and now, apparently, won a supermarket raffle—complete with at least three months’ worth of groceries.

Rummaging through the boxes, you find they’re stocked with all your usual brands. Snacks, non-perishables, beauty products, household items—everything. Even fresh produce.

For the first time in a while, you won’t have to worry about going hungry.

—

You’re not sure why you’ve come back to the park tonight.

It’s late, and you’ve already visited the crows earlier, spoiling them with extra bags of peanuts thanks to your recent streak of good fortune.

The crows seem to wonder the same thing. While they peck enthusiastically at the peanuts, their beady eyes occasionally flick toward you, as if to silently judge your lack of anything resembling a social life.

Admittedly, you’ve been hoping to see your crow friend again.

You think you’re starting to come to terms with its disappearance. Life goes on, right? It’s just an animal, after all. It probably doesn’t feel the same complex emotions humans do—the kind that have you so affected by its absence after only a few days of sharing a space. (Maybe it was a one-sided friendship all along...) It probably just followed its instincts, leaving to do whatever it is that lone crows do.

Still, a petulant part of you feels bitter. Sure, it left behind a hoard of treasures—trinkets, gems, and gold so polished they must be real (though you’re not ready to think about where it might have stolen them)—but it could’ve at least waited for you to come home before flying off.

In hindsight, maybe it’s a good thing you never had pets. Your apparent abandonment issues would be a nightmare to deal with if they got lost, ran away, or died.

Suddenly, a familiar series of shrill caws pierces the air. Before you can process what’s happening, something crashes into your lap, a blur of loose black feathers hitting your face.

Could it be…?

The unmistakable garnet glint in the midnight-feathered avian’s eyes confirms it. Without hesitation, you scoop the bird into your arms, pulling it tightly to your chest, and press a rough, enthusiastic kiss to its head.

“Where have you been?” you exclaim, laughing as you nuzzle the void-like creature against your cheek, smothering it in an embrace. “I’ve been so worried about you!”

Its muffled caws are drowned out by your babbling. “Oh gosh—your wing! How is it?” you say, quickly pulling back to inspect it.

Its feathers look good—healthy, even. In fact, they almost seem brand new, gleaming like a freshly unboxed gadget. Its once-injured left wing no longer looks broken—or as you’d thought before, no longer resembling a mechanical part with a loose screw.

Before you can start fussing over it again, the bird suddenly wriggles free from your grasp and lands steadily on your lap. It caws again, but something’s different. It’s louder, more piercing—frantic. It paces across your lap, continuing to practically scream at you, as if trying to tell you something.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, your heart squeezing at the sight of its feathers puffing up with each stressed caw.

You try to pat its head, hoping to calm it down, but it jumps off your lap and lands on the ground, still cawing. The other crows, clearly spooked by its urgent cries, start to scatter. Bewildered, you bend down, attempting to scoop it into your arms again, but it evades you by hopping a few feet away, still cawing—loudly.

“What is it?” you say, exasperated. I can’t speak crow!

You step closer, bending down once more, but it hops away—again.

You stare up at the heavens. This has to be some cosmic joke. You can’t believe you’re playing this strange version of tag with a bird.

You don’t even realize how far you’ve walked, now a good distance from the bench you were sitting on. You’ve reached the darker area of the park, still desperate to grab the cawing bird and figure out what’s wrong. Then, without warning, your foot catches on a tree root. You stumble, and before you can recover, you hit the cold, wet ground with an unceremonious thud.

“Well, there goes my good luck streak,” you mutter, trying to push yourself up. Good thing nobody’s around to witness your embarrassing lack of coordination.

“Tell me about it.”

The sudden presence of a deep, unfamiliar voice makes you freeze. Heart pounding wildly, you scramble to sit up, eyes darting toward the source.

It wasn’t a tree root you tripped over. It was a leg—a stretched-out leg attached to a man slumped against one of the park’s statues. A huge, beautiful man, with silver hair and a pair of breathtaking garnet eyes, half-lidded and filled with amusement. He’s clutching his abdomen, the fabric there soaked in dark, ominous red.

Blood.

A field of red datura blooms. A starry night sky with the clouds beneath you. Mountains of gold against jagged walls. A burning plaza. A bloodied claymore.

You don’t register the ringing in your ears or the flash of blurry, unfamiliar images racing through your mind. Your gaze remains locked on the man’s injury. Before you know it, you’re shrugging off your puffer jacket and sweater. Now clad in just your turtleneck, you drop to your knees and press your sweater firmly against his wound.

You, waiting for your turn to walk on stage to receive your diploma. A university staff member rushing toward you. You, running out of the graduation venue. Two totaled SUVs. Three dead bodies.

Your pulse pounds in your ears as you work methodically. Stop the bleeding. Stop the blood. Apply pressure. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Just keep pressing. Don’t think about how much there is. Don’t panic. You fold the sweater tighter against the wound. Okay, stop the bleeding first. That’s all you know. Just keep the pressure steady. He’s losing too much. Is this enough? Should I tie it off? No, just keep pressing. Keep him alive.

The edges of your vision begin to blur. You have to save them. You have to save him. They can’t leave you. He can’t leave you. Not again.

“Sweetheart.”

The word, softly spoken, snaps you out of your trance. Your eyes lift to meet his, and the world seems to still. You’ve never met this man in your life, but the way he looks at you—it hurts. It feels like an ancient grief has surfaced from the depths of your soul.

You finally notice the state you’re in. You’re shaking. Badly. The cold winter air bites into your skin, sharp and unforgiving. Your palms are scraped from your earlier fall, but you hardly register the sting. The man’s hands—large and warm—enclose your trembling ones, grounding you.

And it’s like you’ve never known peace until this very moment.

note: can u tell the extent of my yearning to be spoiled with groceries LMAO

[yanderenightmare]

TW: NSFW, yandere, f!reader, bondage, abuse, punishment, intense spanking/whipping-ish

gn reader

“Please- plea- m’so- sorry-” You sob, voice cracking on its own blubbering. Chest full of panic – heaving for a fix but achieving little less than spurring even more hysteria.

“Haah…” He sighs. Casually fixing your bonds tighter around your wrists, hoisting them a little higher above your head until you were properly stretched up on your tippy-toes.

Shivering in just your undies in anxious wait of his anger.

Stroking your back while holding your belly in a steady hand, he thinks he’s never felt fear quite like it, but unfortunately, “Y’broke the rules, Sunshine… and now yer’ gettin’ punished.”

He unbuckles his belt. Your eardrums burn at the crisp sound, so much spiked blood rushing about, making you go dizzy. 

You think you might pass out.

“What did I say the rules were, hm? ‘You remember ‘em?” He mumbles in a steady tone, speaking awfully softly with his lips pressed against your temple. Waiting for your answer.

You give a sob and a pitiful nod, and he hums in return, rubbing calm circles into your shivering, goose-fleshed skin.

“Recite them for me.” He requests, nose rubbing your hairline as you shiver from his touch.

Voice unsteady, filtered through tears and a hopeless sense of terror – chin tipped up, needing to gasp for breaths. “N-no fighting, no- no arguing, no run- running-”

“Mh…” He hums, taking in the scent of your shampoo with a sniff of your crown, placing a kiss there as though in kudos – or as a small mercy before getting started. “And you managed to do all three in one night. ‘You feel proud, hm? ‘You feel accomplished? Hm? Was it worth it?”

You whimper under the interrogation, feeling smaller and smaller by the second – so exposed where you are, practically hanging from the ceiling like dead meat. Stripped of everything that might’ve protected you – or that would have at least cushioned the coming onslaught of pain you knew to dread.

“Nah… it’s written all over your body. Goosebumps and cold sweat, shaking from tits to toes. You regret it, don’t you?” He murmured, winding his belt around his fist once, then twice, leaving a looped tail. “Mh, maybe you’ll think twice about it next time... or maybe you’ll finally learn your place.”

He finished with a soft bite to the chub of your cheek, then grabbed your chin just as gently, holding your face up to look at him as he sidestepped to your front. Leaning his forehead against yours, he stroked your jaw with his thumb – lips hovering just short of yours.

“I'm gonna hurt you, Sweetie.” He purred, stroking your asscheek with the cool leather in his grip – in such gross contrast to what you knew he planned on using it for. “I promised I would, and now I will…”

He kissed your lips then – slowly, sweetly – suffocatingly so as you cried – tasting your tears and doing a terrible job at withholding his grin as you felt it pull giddily at the corner of his mouth.

He licked his lips once he pulled away, walking a circle around you like a shark.

“How many hits do you deserve?” He mused. “I guess one for each rule you broke is fair, but it seems a little scant…”

He stopped behind you, placing a chaste kiss on your arm before nuzzling around it.

“Should we say thirty?” He offered, and your eyes immediately widened.

Shaking your head furiously, prayers already coming out in splutters. “No- please-”

“No? Too many?” He pouted, not bothering to mask his glee now. “Okay, okay, calm down, baby. Breathe.” He soothed with no effort. “I think…”

There was a pause – a hum of thought as he wrapped his arms around your front and swayed you back against his chest in a hug.

“Ugh fuck, I'm no good makin’ rules on the fly…” He feigned - sinking his jaw into the grove of your armpit before cuddling the soft flesh with his chin-stubble.

He sucked his teeth in a further display of thought before releasing an exasperated sigh.

“I really didn’t think you’d break ‘em, y’know? I thought you’d be a good pet…”

You trembled, eyes looking down at the belt held between his big hands – whimpering at the sight of him simply playing with it – psyching you out like a true sadist.

“But you just had to disappoint me, didn’t you?”

You bit your lip to stop a sob.

“Had to be difficult… and now I gotta make difficult decisions…”

He slinked off you, leaving you to wobble – toes barely grazing the cold basement floor.

You try your best to prepare yourself for the next events, but the more you brace yourself the more tense you get and the harder you cry. “Please- I’ll be good- promise- m’real- really sorry-” 

“I know, baby. I know~ I am, too.” He coos, kissing your spine while rubbing circles into your sides – feeling your ribs rattle with sniffles, struggling for air through your panic. “I wanna make sure we never have to be sorry again.”

He wraps an arm around the front of your hips, steadying you while stroking the loop of his belt over your plump cheeks – tentatively teasing the soft flesh with what was soon to come.

He licked his lips at the promise – already imagining the flawless flesh blooming with his marks.

“I think thirty is fair.”

“No- no please- please, don’t-” You thrash – but do so little more than in place.

“Don’t squirm.” He interrupts, his hand curling into your hip with blunt nails denting the fine skin, keeping you still, pushing your side snugly against his front – holding you intimately while gruffing out eerie murmurs still much too softly for what he was saying. “Remember, it’s another ten hits if you fight me and another ten if you argue.”

At least he doesn’t make you count....

You wouldn’t have been able to even under threat – too busy wailing.

Each hit like the lash of a whip, smacking you fast, one on top of the other. It’s enough to make you throw up after half of it – though it's mostly just water and acid.

He takes pity enough to allow you a small break. Wringing off his wife-beater and wiping your mouth with it – also brushing some of the sweat off your brow before kissing your forehead. 

“Halfway there, Sweetie- you’re doing so good~”  He whispered soothingly, holding your cheeks to pick your face up from hanging – looking into the hopeless look of your opium-blown eyes – so lost he didn’t know if you could even hear him.

He acts as though he’s sorry after, but the boner he’s got nudged against you doesn’t lie – desperately dry-humping your thigh for some sort of relief.

His breaths are tight and hot, puffed against your arm where he now mouths wet kisses. “Good-” He swallows thickly, brows tight-knit, voice thick with lust. “Good pet.”

You hadn’t noticed he was done. And the relief doesn’t register either. There isn’t much comfort in it to grasp, not with the pain still so numbingly intense that you can’t feel anything but the raw sting. 

He drops the belt to the floor and struggles his fly open, shoving the trousers down along with his boxers, stepping out of the heap in a rush – all the while sucking sloppy kisses on your shoulder and nape, mumbling praise. “Y’were so good- so good fo’me- gonna reward yah- my good fuckin’ baby- gonna make yah feel so fuckin’ good now-”

The flesh of your ass burns with welts and split skin, ugly marks already lining the once-pretty color with horrid shades of bruise-dark. Your throat’s ripped raw from all the wailing – only weeping harder when he takes your hips and sways you back to meet his fat erection.

He shamelessly rubs himself between your cheeks – frenzied with his mouth gaping, releasing a filthy shuddering moan while leering at the beautiful sight of his handiwork – feeling so proud he was blushing just from sheer sadistic enjoyment – even letting slip a breathy laugh now.

He hung his tongue out and let his drool drip onto the shaft, then placed another kiss between your shoulder blades. Gliding his tip down and, with the help of a hand, pushed it between your cheeks until it caught your entrance. 

A rugged groan blew hotly down your spine, and another cry was ripped from your chest as he sunk inside without a single spare second to waste.

He laid his face to rest against your back, nudging up inside you slowly with both arms wrapping around you like before – holding you snugly before he began the intimate pace, fucking only the deepest coziest parts of you.

“I love you, Sunshine- you’re mine- only one I give two shits about- rest can just fuck off for all I care- as long as I have you- right here… forever.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Kirishima, Dabi, Hawks, Aizawa, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Nanami, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, Sakusa, Miya twins, Suna ♡ CSM – Aki ♡ BLLK – Reo, Isagi, Kunigami ♡ DS – Doma, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem reader | dirty flirting | suggestive material | it’s not dubcon, it's just you and deadpool's dynamic.

Like a stray cat, a mercenary hangs around your neighborhood. At first he was cute, you'd leave some food out for him, he'd hit on you shamelessly and in a million different shades of dirty, and then you wouldn't see him for six months. It got old quick, especially because he didn't care that you weren't interested. As if flirting with you was a hobby, he didn't mind that he wasn't getting anything out of it besides your irritation.

It's late, but you might as well take your trash out. You didn't bother to cover up when it's hot and humid out. In a crop top and the littlest shorts you own, you step out, immediately greeted with the familiar tune of DEADPOOL's voice.

"Braless—brave." he notes, and you slump in place, turning to see how he lays precariously on the railing of the fire escape. He gestures to his own chest with a flourish of gloved fingers, "Me too. Burn 'em, I say. The 70's were good for something." He nods his head.

You sigh through your nose, dropping your bag to let it sag pathetically on the asphalt. "What do you want, Red? Blowing through my part of town coincidentally again?"

"Oh, no coincidence, sugar." he tsks, and wags a finger at you before gracefully swinging off the railing to flip to the ground. You roll your eyes at his showmanship, and retreat to the backdoor of your apartment building, followed leisurely by the Merc. "Can't a guy say he missed you? Visit suddenly without calling? Golly, a man can't partake in a little light stalking these days."

You round on him, pointing a warning finger in his mask when you catch him watching your tits swing under your shirt. "Nips are hard. Excited to see me?" he asks with enthusiasm, meeting your gaze and you guffaw at him, taken aback with a hand on your hip. "Turn around, lemme see the back again—"

"'Excited?' What part should I be looking forward to? Your outdated jokes or when you make passes at me until you get it all out of your system?" You lean forward, gesturing to your enunciating mouth. "Read my lips, Red, it's- not- happening." Unknowingly, you'd lowered your voice, that sultry tone lulling Deadpool into your direction like a pie on a windowsill.

"Oh, baby, if you could see my face, I'm grinning under this mask right now." he confesses, chuckling under his breath. "Love it when you play hard to get." He straightens to his full height, sighing with relief. "Your place or mine?"

"Red—"

"Seriously, you gotta give me a twirl or something, I'm getting blue balls over here. You take a little stroll in your little jammies and I've got a halfie, throw me a bone."

You scoff at his audacity, as fat and veiny as always, and back away. "I'll see you next time, Red."

"Hopefully you'll see this boner next time, it'll be waving to you like a flagpole flying my tighty-whities." he calls after you. He knows he's exhausted his welcome this time, there'll be another opportunity soon enough.

[hypnos333]

Okay this is the very first time I’ve sent in a request and it might sound strange so I’m so sorry if it does 😭😭😭 but- Alastor x a reader who was apart of the extermination after she passed away (I.e she joined the extermination angels) and she has been like injured or badly hurt by Alastor himself. And it wasent until she took her mask off that Alastor realised who she was type thing??

CARMINE

Alastor x Ex-Fiancé Reader

Synopsis: Alastor purposed for you before he made a big mistake with you dying now he won’t make that mistake again

“Aye Sweet gold, you got that Radio bitch right?” Adam yelled out from battle making you nod before head towards the demon using your box and arrow to hit different demons.

You shoot your arrows at Alastor making his smile tighten before he slammed his staff down the ground as tentacles came flying towards you but you used your angelic dagger to slice through them. Until a tentacle hit you from behind making you slam down the ground. Through your mask you struggled to breathe.

Alastor came up to you holding his staff down your neck making you choke up, his smile brightened as he hold it even more deeper down your neck as you gasp for air. You finally had enough before taking off your mask to get more air if possible.

Alastor gasp in shock, eyes wide at you as he immediately dropped his staff, you weren’t paying attention to his reaction as you were gasping for air.

“___? My dear? My love?” Alastor stuttered between nicknames

“Alastor dinner is ready!” You yelled out to the basement but all you heard this time was silence usually he would yell something back. You couldn’t recall him saying he was heading out so maybe he fell asleep in the basement?

You hesitatingly went down the steps to the basement, the stairs creak by your slow pace. “Beloved are you down here?” You asked but yet again hearing no response.

You peaked behind the wall seeing a guy tied up bloody full of carmine blood. You gasp ready to scream before a hand came and held you against your mouth making scream but came out muffled. You looked up to see Alastor hush you before plunging a knife into your stomach.

“I would’ve been so much better without you knowing my dear” He said making tears roll down your face as you die in his arms without you knowing thought his very own tears was running down his face as he hold your body close

As you got air in your system you finally looked up to the person you been trying to avoid. “Hello Alastor I hope everything been well for you” You mumbled avoid his eyes.

“I-I’ve been looking for you for years, My dear” He stuttered out making you look at him questionably.

“Why would you do that when you’re the one who killed me and led me to my death?” You asked making him look down in shame. As he was about the explain everything to you.

Lute called all Angels to retreat making you fly but before you can get anywhere, Alastor panicked and did the unthinkable he quickly cut your wings making you cry out in pain before falling down on the ground. The same carmine that led you to your death is now replacing your use to be wings now cloaking your back.

“Like I said my dear, I’ve been looking for you for years and Im not gonna let you go again” He said as he carried you towards his Radio tower where he will keep you until you behave for him like a little Fiancé you were back then.

[pomefioredove]

You know what would be sad? If you/Yuu breaks up with Vil (or vice versa) and then runs to Rook afterwards. I wonder if Vil is going to feel betrayed again? If you could do a little scenario for this, that’d be great!

this is such a good prompt, I love rebound scenarios omg. needed this today. and here comes rook with the steel chair!!!

summary: getting dumped by vil schoenheit type of post: long fic characters: rook additional info: romantic, established relationship, vil breaks up with reader, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, kinda angsty, hahhhh, my god

"It's not personal. I just don't think it's fair to you," Vil says.

He doesn't fidget. Maintains perfect eye contact. He doesn't even try to act sorry, which, perhaps, is what stings the most.

He's supposed to be an actor, after all.

That's what this is all about.

"You must have always known this was a possibility," he says. "My schedule is getting busier, I simply don't... want to push you away."

Each word is spoken with a honeyed softness, as if he's trying to cushion the blows. It doesn't help.

Your heart thuds in your chest, your eyes burn. This is the worst thing you've ever experienced. You would take a thousand overblots over this. Any day.

What a bitter sentiment.

"You don't mean to push me away. What is this, then?"

A look of guilt finally crosses Vil's face, cracking the mask of professionalism he'd been hiding behind. It offers little comfort.

His brow furrows, and he sighs. "A preventative measure. It would hurt more if I'd waited,"

A million questions fly through your mind, faster than you can catch them. You want to shout, to tell him exactly how he's making you feel, to ask him who he thinks he is- but all you can manage is a stare.

He frowns, extending a hand as if to caress your face, but you turn on your heels and leave before he has the chance.

You wouldn't sit there and let him make a fool of you any longer.

You had become comfortable with the Pomefiore dorm in the past few months, but today, its elegance feels suffocating. The white and gold decor seems to mock you, every vase of perfect flowers laughing at your imperfection as you pass them by.

It hurts.

Stings, burns, makes you feel like you're drowning in a sea of perfume, choking on lilac and rose. Has the air here always been so sickeningly sweet?

There's still a lingering part of you that wants to run back to him, to beg, to negotiate, but you know he's right. You hate that he's right.

This... whatever it was... wouldn't last.

And you'd always known it.

---

How does one recover from being dumped by Vil Schoenheit?

Short answer: you can't.

You can wallow all you want, drowning yourself in the unhealthy foods he forbade you from eating, skipping the classes he'd so encouraged you to excel in, and using cheap tissues on your formerly-perfect skin, but that doesn't change a thing.

Perhaps if it hadn't been so public, you might have pulled yourself together sooner. But the very second all of your pictures were gone from his profile, everyone knew.

On some nights, you'd torture yourself by reading the thirsty comments from desperate fans under his latest posts, all of them pointing out his recent singleness. You would wonder to yourself if you had sounded that pathetic when you were dating Vil.

Just another hopeless, desperate fan, hoping for a piece of him.

People on campus avoided you. Not out of fear, but pity, a lack of knowing what to say. How do you even comfort someone after this?

It was like having an open wound on full display. No matter how you tried to bandage it, it kept bleeding through.

Even Grim was keeping his distance.

What little comfort came in the form of an anonymous knight in shining armor. Roses left at your doorstep, letters of love and encouragement on your assigned seats, little baskets full of your favorite foods and trinkets on your kitchen table...

You would have questioned it if you were not so consumed by your grief. At least the mystery offered a distraction.

"Another one," Ace comments, pulling a letter off your chair before you can sit on it. "Whoever this guy is, he's slick."

He hands you the letter, which you gracefully accept.

Deuce watches cautiously. "And you're sure it's not just... some kinda of prank, right? I've known my fair share of nasty types, this could be a trick."

"Too much effort," you shake your head. "I mean, whoever this is is spending a lot of time and money cheering me up. Not to mention... I've tried looking up some of these poems, and no matches. They're originals."

You wave around the letter in hand, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Though, I'm sure whoever's doing it is just being nice,"

"Nice. Right," Ace rolls his eyes. "Cause I know like, a million teenage boys who are just dying to write poetry for their friends."

Even Deuce snickers at that. You roll your eyes.

"Point taken. I guess I just can't believe that anyone would want me after..." you pause. There's no pleasant way to put it, so you let Ace and Deuce fill in the blanks.

"Hey, Vil is a jerk. He doesn't deserve you," Deuce says. "And trust me, if I ever catch him disrespecting you again-"

Ace scoffs. "Woah, there, tiger. Calm down. Vil could kick your ass and we all know it,"

"He really was something, wasn't he?" you sigh, slumping in your seat. Ace and Deuce give each other a panicked look.

"We didn't mean-"

"No, I get it," you say, reaching down to the floor in an attempt to touch your toes. Vil had told you that little exercises help calm the nerves. You hate how you still need his advice.

"Oh, hey, look," you sit back up, another pink envelope in hand. "Another one."

---

There's something about these gifts that doesn't sit right with you.

Each one is arranged to perfection, obviously crafted by a very thoughtful individual, just personal enough to suit your tastes but distant all the same.

It's almost as if the sender is holding something back.

But, not today.

You're greeted by a trail of rose petals leading up to Ramshackle's front door, which itself is ajar. Not uncommon, considering Grim's inability to take care of the makeshift dorm, but with the scent of roses and the candlelight inside, you know it's something more.

You walk in, setting your things aside, and continue following the path of petals into the kitchen, where a rickety wooden table has been set for two.

You, however, are the only one in the room.

"Hello?" you ask, turning in circles. The space is empty, save for a small letter on one of the chairs.

Beautiful,

A little bird told me you doubt the intentions of my admiration. I must amend that immediately, and I see no better way than to say it myself.

Yours truly.

"Trickster," a familiar voice comes from the doorway behind you, and you whirl around to face your admirer.

"Rook!" you gasp, clutching the letter to your chest.

He beams in response. "Oui, c'est moi. Though I was so enjoying the mystery, I feel it's time I made my intentions clear. Sit, please,"

You don't hesitate to follow his suggestion (the surprise left your knees feeling weak, anyway), and he joins you in the adjacent seat.

"But what-"

"Please," he says, holding a finger to your lips to shush you. "Let me start. I first want to say that I have meant every single word, in song and ink, that I have given to you. My heart is true."

Your mind is overflowing with questions, none of which he seems keen on answering in full just yet.

"I have spent the past several months allowing our Beautiful Vil to woo you. I have so enjoyed watching your love blossom from afar, despite my own feelings towards you. But things have changed," Rook says.

"For as much as I love him, this was his own doing. He has made a fatal mistake, one which cannot be undone- he has wounded you, mon amour, in a most vulnerable fashion. Months ago, when we both realized our feelings for you, I willingly stepped aside," he says. "I thought Vil would be the best option for you. I thought I was not ready to commit myself. Now I see what a mistake that was, and I hope you might find it within yourself to forgive me..."

You can only stare back. "Rook..."

"I cannot resent our Roi du Poison for his choice, for it's his to make. But he hurt you dearly, and in the process, he has relinquished his claim on you. I know your wound is still fresh. But, please, Mon Trickster, mon véritable amour, be mine?"

You're silent for a moment, processing every detail of what he said, what he's offering...

He's right. The wound Vil created is still open, and despite the weeks of "recovery", had yet to improve.

If you kept waiting for it to heal, perhaps it never would.

You nod. "Okay. Okay! But-! Let's take it slow, okay?"

Rook just barely manages to stop himself from leaping across the table to take your hands into his, and he reaffirms your request with a nod.

"Of course, mon cœur. What is a hunter if not patient?"

---

Pomefiore is beautiful again.

There are still times where you swear you can see Vil staring at the two of you, a look of discontent on his face, from across the room.

He doesn't utter a word about the way Rook has his arm over your shoulder, or the many terms of endearment he uses on you, though he doesn't have to. The lingering guilt and regret has made a home for itself in Vil Schoenheit.

You're sure Rook has noticed by now, too, although this isn't the first time he's pulled something like this on the housewarden without a second thought, and it likely won't be the last.

Perhaps it's for the better.

[mockerycrow]

Emergency Contact (2/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

-> PART ONE OF EMERGENCY CONTACT

Summary: You never expected Simon to come to your aid, and Simon assures you that he would come every single time.

A/N: I genuinely appreciate the support of this concept <3 I truly did not expect so many people to want a part two, so here it is! please rb with what you think, i love to hear y’all’s thoughts! i’m honestly not the happiest with this, but i did what i could. i may rewrite this in the future.

[WARNINGS: Hospital setting, fluff, hurt/comfort, medical inaccuracies, ooc Simon.]

IT TAKES YOU FOUR DAYS to wake up. Four entire days for you to even move an eye muscle. Four days of anxiety, of Simon lying in wait, waiting for sign of life. Despite the doctors’ assurances of your condition, the confirmed brain activity, Simon was panicking.

He just couldn’t lose you, too. Not when he has such a great thing going for him, so when he learns you’re in a mini coma—induced by your own body to allow your body to rest and heal, he can’t help but freak out. His mind screaming that you’ll never wake up, that you’ll always by lying in a hospital bed, until someone in your family decides to come and pull the plug. He tried to keep himself preoccupied—he read books and articles on his phone, memorized each time the nurses came in to check your vitals, he even texted Price an update about his situation—it wasn’t much information, but he said something along the lines of something happened at home and he thinks his leave with have to be for a month, but there’s a good chance it might be longer.

Simon barely left the room—he couldn’t. Not when at any moment you could wake up, or any moment you could’ve died. He didn’t manage much sleep, either. Every time he managed to fall asleep, the same nightmare would play; what he imagined how your accident went. He imagined you walking down on the sidewalk towards the crosswalk down a street you both frequented together. You were always careful when walking—he knew you were having car troubles for the last few weeks. You press the button on the crosswalk pole to trigger the lights to turn red. Cars slow to a stop, and your crosswalk signs turns to a walking man. You quickly hurry across the crosswalk, but a car comes speeding down—and smashes right into you, full speed, sending you across the road. Simon is just standing there, watching. Completely unable to help. He always wakes up once he walks up to your mangled body.

Simon gasps quietly and jolts awake again, blinking the bleariness away, and the slow beeps and exhales of your machines come back. His rapid heartbeat begins to slow as he realizes that he’s still beside your hospital bed. He looks at you—you’re no longer on a ventilator, but you have an oxygen mask, a way to help your collapsed lung. It makes him feel a bit better, but Simon would very much prefer your eyes to be open, your fingers moving against the blanket you’d likely hate the texture of when you woke up—if you woke up—and he would want to feel your muscles moving under your skin. He also tries to ignore the fear of you having Amnesia after waking up.

Simon isn’t sure when he laid his head back down, but it shoots back up the second he hears a quiet noise escape you—it’s the first sign of life to Simon, his wide eyes scanning your body. His eyes fly to your hand, your fingers twitching a bit. Simon grabs ahold of your twitching hand immediately and looks at your face and he isn’t so sure why his heart is pounding beneath his ribs, but he doesn’t have too much time to focus on it as your arm twitches. It’s like you’re slowly coming back to life in a weird way, but Simon finds himself totally silent, like he can’t find the right words to say just yet. He doesn’t mean to hold his breath, but he does as he watches your shoulder twitch next, and then your eyebrows furrow. Your eyes are already closed, but you squeeze your eyelids together harder. Simon realizes that you haven’t had your eyes open for about four days, so he quickly dims the rooms lights and returns right back next to you. Simon reaches for your hand and gently holds it, watching you slowly get your surroundings.

Your eye flutter open slowly and you blink, and it’s obvious you don’t immediately process that you’re in the hospital. A croaky moan of discomfort leaves you and Simon sits up, the worry eating at his stomach. You look at Simon with unfocused and exhausted eyes and your eyebrows furrow again and your lips part.

“..Simon?”

He releases the breath he was holding and he nods, his black mask slightly moving as his lips move. “I’m right here, [name]. Right here.” Simon absolutely hates how shaky his voice is, and he watches you bit your lip as your eyes begin to fill with tears. His heart skips a beat—what’s wrong? Are you in pain? Are you scared? Simon decides he needs to know because he can fix it, he can help you, right? He needs to fix it—“Y.. You came for me..” You whisper, blinking a tear rolls down your cheek to your jaw quickly. Simon’s own eyebrows furrowed—did you think he wouldn’t? “Of course I did, love.” He murmurs, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I will always come for you.” You try to hold in the quiet sob, but your shoulders begin to shake. Simon reaches up and gently wipes away a tear with his thumb while he squeezes your hand. “No tears now, hm? You’ve.. You’ve survived the impossible.” Simon says, forcing his voice to be steady. His eyes begin to burn with his own set of tears forming. “I came as soon as I heard, [name]. Don’t ever think I wouldn’t come for you.“

Your lower lip curls as you try to not cry from his sentiment; this is the man who took you in after losing everything, and it took him a long while to even let you know of his actual name, let alone see his face unmasked. This is the man who does not tell you the details of his job, but you know that he could be killed from it. This is the man who sits next to you near his windowsill when you both can’t sleep—the man who wakes up, just knowing something is up. He makes you a cup of your favorite morning drink whenever he can, he signs his sticky notes with a poorly drawn skull instead of his name, he makes piss poor dad and army type jokes, annoys you with his cockiness and bought you a damn mattress and bed-frame—even thought he never had to. He remembers the little things about you, your favorite shows and games—your favorite books, your favorite foods, hell, he remembers every little awful story about your workplace and your job. He’s always been like a wild animal—you come too close and he flees, but if you’re patient do what he needs, he’ll come to you.

Simon blinks away the tears and he clears his throat, his voice hesitant as he speaks. “You made me your emergency contact.” His tone isn’t questioning or warbling in any way—he says it like a statement, a fact, which it is. You laugh quietly which quickly turns into a grimace, causing Simon’s thumb to stop moving over your knuckles for a moment. Of course any movement or sound would hurt. “I.. I had to put one down, I just.. put the first person who came to mind.. Y’know?” You murmured nervously. Simon’s breath hitches for a moment and he only responds with a “mmh” for the time being, which definitely makes you way more nervous than you started out to feel. Your heart monitor spikes for a moment, causing Simon to speak up. “Hey—just relax, okay? M’not mad, love. Not mad at all,” He begins. He glances away from you for a moment before looking back with such a vulnerable look—like he’ll break at any moment. “It was just.. a surprise. That’s all.” But both of you know it was more than just a surprise. It was a small declaration of prioritizing each other—you setting him as the first person to be notified for an emergency, and his acceptance of this role. Simon never thought he would be sitting here, beside anyone else than his teammates in a hospital setting.

Simon isn’t sure when he fell in love with you. Whether it was the first moment he laid eyes on you or way later down the road—he doesn’t know. What he does know is that this.. feeling, isn’t as scary as it used to be. People getting close to him used to terrify him and it still does—but.. there’s something about you. Something about you that makes Simon feel safe. Makes him feel like he doesn’t have to sit in the corner to watch the entire room, you make him feel like he doesn’t have to sleep with a hunting knife stashed under his pillow. You make him feel like he doesn’t have to question your motives with anything you do, you make Simon feel like he can just sit down and relax without having to worry about, well.. anything else besides from the question of what you’ll have for dinner that night. He tries to hold in the shuddery breath and when he can’t, his eyes dart away to your arm. You open your lips to speak again, but you begin to cough. Simon grabs the paper cup of water that has a straw in it that he’s prepared for you everyday just in case you had woken up and he slots the straw between your lips, which you greedily accept and drink down the cold water. It soothes the ache in your throat from being on the ventilator and from not speaking for a couple of days. Once you’re satisfied, he places the cup back on the side table. “Hey, Si,” You croak, your fingers weakly squeezing his hand. Simon’s eyes immediately meet yours again, searching for any hint of pain. You lick your lips, a light smile coming to them. “Two blondes walk into a bar. You’d think one of ‘em would’ve seen it.” He stares at you for a moment, his eyebrows raising. “Did.. Did you just..” You laugh weakly and nod, looking at him. “I did.” You clear your throat again and squeeze his fingers. “Did it because you’re in your head.. Don’t hafta think so.. so much when you’re with me, Simon.”

Simon brushes his thumb over your knuckles once again and he can’t help but silently agree—he doesn’t have to think about anything right now, he can just sit here, with you—even if it’s in a place like this, with you in a condition like that. Simon looks at you and you look back at him, into his soul—and for the first time, he doesn’t want to look away.

taglist;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja @cumikering @silent-neptune @purechaosss @hauntedpass @mxtokko @meimhem [crossed out = not able to tag sorry!]

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Thirteen: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink(Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, GEN. SMUT [Be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Ghost is getting careless, Ghost is sick and tired of the way you make him go off script, post murder sex spree [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+ [ani wears a vulvodynia tshirt, this song is so vader coded; enjoy]

DATE

1:27 am August 29th

After the initial shock of Ghost’s demands, you quickly realized he was serious in his request. He lunged at you, just to spook you into running because you’d stood frozen like a deer in the headlights.

If only you could’ve seen the absolutely feral grin on his face. His little doe had fawned.

You swung open the bedroom door and shut it behind you, instinctively holding onto the doorknob and using your body as a counterweight to keep the door shut while Ghost laughed and barely tugged at it. Each quick pull made you jolt forward and only proved further how scared you really should be, knowing he was pulling the door open with your full weight on it with just one arm.

If he was serious, really, truly, serious. You wouldn’t have a chance, he’d demolish you in minutes.

You made a decision and made it quickly that your best bet would be to run to the living room and loop around, back to the bedroom and lock him out. At least there was a window in there you could probably climb out of if you actually needed to. The bathroom would just be a death trap.

You hoped that if you let go just as he was opening the door he might stumble, so you tried exactly that. It didn’t work the way you planned, but it did give you a second or two advantage. Though he quickly made up the time after he recovered from pulling the door into his shoulder at full force.

“Ow.” He gritted through his teeth, flipping out the decorative butterfly knife in his right hand, rolling his shoulders back as his towering frame strode across the small living space toward you.

“Ghost what the hell are you doing?” You squealed, grabbing the nearest book to you on your shelf, a paperback romance novel, and chucked it at him.

“Oh no.” He gasped, knocking the book away from him, his gloved hand flying to the gaping maw of his mask. “You gave me a paper cut.”

He twirled his your knife and lunged forward to grab your arm.

“I just want to have some fun, don’t you?” He chuckled, watching you wiggle and squirm to get away from his firm one-handed grip. With a quick motion and a rip of fabric he sliced a hole in the side of Anakin’s t-shirt he’d made you wear.

“Oh my god! What- you could’ve cut me!” You screeched, smacking at his arm with your free hand.

“If I wanted to I would’ve.” He growled, letting go of your wrist and allowing you to stumble backwards.

“I don’t know what I did to make you mad but I’m sorry!” Your voice shook as you backed away from him, scrambling back toward the bookshelf.

“Doe, you didn’t make me angry.” He said, his filtered voice oddly soothing in comparison to the way he was aggressively closing in on you. “You made me hard.”

“And now I’m gonna fuck you like I should’ve out in that dirty alleyway.” He gritted out.

“You ruined it for me you know?” He grumbled kicking the paperback weapon from earlier out of his way.

“What?” You squeaked, “What do you mean? I thought-“

“Yeah, you thought.” He snarled, reaching forward to grab you by the front of your shirt. “That’s the problem.”

“I wanted-“ He huffed when you jolted away from him and grabbed a slightly heavier book off the shelf to hit him with. “Do it. See what happens.” He barked.

He produced a second knife from seemingly thin air, one second his left hand was empty and the next the silver flash of the blade caught your eye. You panicked, two sharpened blades in the hands of a madman did not bode well for your very near future. Choosing purely out of instinct you swung the book at him, hoping to hit him square in the face.

You were too slow, or maybe he was just too fast. Either way, the book connected with the knife in his left hand instead of hitting the mark you’d set out for. He snickered, seeing your frustration and surprise at having speared your own belonging on his blade, your expression quickly fading to a blank-pale faced shock.

His hand shot out in continuance of the fluid sideways stabbing motion. His knife, along with your book, sunk into the wall, getting pinned there until further notice. The drywall cracking from the force of the side of his fist driving in the blade as easily as a pushpin.

“Now, as I was saying,” he sighed, clapping the drywall dust from his leather gloves. He moved quickly to grab you by the hair and drag you to the couch. “You thought, and that ruined my fun.”

“I wanted to pin you down on the nasty pavement and fuck you hard like the useless cocksleeve that you are,” his teeth clenched tightly. “but no. You had to be you, didn’t even give me the chance to offer you a safe word.”

“You’re such a slut that you just let me do it with no fight.” He snorted. “You let me drag you down a dark alley and fuck you. You wanted it so bad you hardly questioned it at all.”

“If I wanted to fuck you nice and slow, if I wanted to give you a choice, real or not... I would’ve done it in that cozy little love nest.” He said angrily, turning your head in the direction of your bedroom and pointing with his rose handled blade.

“See, I’ve got this thing,” he grunted, stabbing his knife into the couch cushion and locking the handles in a fixed position so he use both hands. “you’ve probably heard of it.”

You wiggled and squirmed against his firm grip on your hair, each strand felt like it was ripping from your skull. You reached back and elbowed him in the ribs, making him take a sharp inhale.

“You stupid bitch.” He snapped, spinning you around and grabbing you right beneath your jaw. He squeezed tightly, lifting you up so that you were struggling to stand on your tiptoes.

“You gonna be mad if I smack you?” He asked, his voice low and gravely.

“Yes! What the fuck?” You coughed, your hands gripping his wrist in an effort to keep yourself from choking.

“Will you hate me though?” He asked, tipping his head to the side, a slightly more playful tone in his voice like he knew your answer.

You shook your head ‘no’, holding your breath while a fire lit in your lungs, your vision burning black around the edges. Finally he sat you flat on your feet, if you weren’t light headed before, you sure as hell were now. All the blood rushing back to where it belonged cause your body to momentarily malfunction.

Ghost kept you upright, letting you slump against him for a second before encasing the back of your neck in his firm leather grip, pulling you back far enough away from himself to deliver a rough *smack* to your cheek.

Your eyes flew open, suddenly more alert as he shocked your system back into working order. Plunging you back into dizziness when he threw you forward and bent you over the arm of the couch.

“Hey.” He said gruffly, crouching next to you and pushing your hair from your face. “I gave you a safe word.” He reminded you, “I’m not an ass. If you need to use it just say so, I’ll stop.”

“N-no.” You shook your head, your hands coming up to push your chest off the couch.

“No?” He chuckled. “Never thought I’d find me a girl who likes to get raped.”

“What!? I never said-“

“Nope, shut your fucking mouth.” He said quickly. Taking off his belt at cracking it over the backs of your thighs.

“Fuck!” You screamed, crying out into the couch cushions. “What was that for!?”

He snorted, whipping you with the hard and unforgiving leather again. A shiver running through him when you whimpered and squeezed your thighs together.

“I want you to fight me.” He leaned down, his gritty voice rumbling in his chest against his back. “I know you got it in you baby, you’re just as sick as I am. You’re just not ready to admit it yet.”

“No! No, I… that’s not something-“

“Before you embarrass yourself further,” he sighed, reaching beneath the boxers you wore, he ran his middle finger up your slit. “feel that?”

He was gloating, enjoying making you squirm uncomfortably from your own desires. Ghost wiped your arousal onto your cheek, leaving a slick trail in its wake that gave away how you really felt.

“My pretty pussy is telling on you Doe.” He chuckled. “Now be a good girl and tell me you got wet at the thought of me raping you on the couch you just fucked your boyfriend on. Tell me you wish you weren’t such a cockslut and desperate for dick so I could’ve raped you up against a fucking brick wall.”

“Ghost…” you whined, wiggling to get away from him, but his full body weight was pinning you in place. “Fine!”

“Fine, okay? Yes!” You grumbled, shooting him a glare over your shoulder as he stood up.

“There we go.” He chuckled, “It’s okay princess, I know you have trouble understanding big words.” He taunted.

“Listening, silence, obeying, submitting.” He cooed, looping his belt around your neck and tugging it like a leash. “Very big words for a very stupid whore.”

He took the knife from the couch cushion and brought the flat side of the cool steel to the burning blush of your cheek, lightly scraping the tip across the apple of your cheek and the delicate skin beneath your eye.

“Getting me a fresh kill of venison for dinner tonight baby.” He chuckled, you envisioned a devilish grin, full lips curved upward.

“Maybe you ought to bite down on this.” He said, smacking you with the tail end of the black leather belt before putting it in your mouth for you. “Hate for you to fuck up those pearly whites.”

He grabbed the collar of your shirt, stabbing the knife through the fabric and ripping a hole down the short sleeve. The blade never came close to your skin but the motion was so quick that you felt a rush of air following behind it that may as well have been just as sharp.

You reached back to smack at his hand, spitting out the leather to scowl and yell at him.

“What is your problem today!? I like this shirt!” You kicked at his shin, connecting your heel to the bone in his leg.

“Goddamnit!” He growled, yanking you up by your leash and holding the tip of the knife to the vulnerable flesh above your Adam’s apple.

“That’s better.” He moaned… he moaned. “Fuck, you feel me Doe?” He asked, pressing his cock of steel against your ass.

You answered with a choked ‘uh huh’, trying not to turn blue in the face from the thick leather necklace he’d given you. He removed the knife and dropped the leash, your hands immediately going to claw at it while you coughed.

“Don’t.” He barked, tugging your hair to get your attention.

“I’ll tell you my ‘problem’.” He growled, using his hands to rip the fabric further, exposing your left shoulder blade.

“My bitch.” He snapped, “fucked her boyfriend on this couch. Right in front of me.”

He brought the knife back down to the fabric and this time he allowed the tip to pierce the skin ever so slightly, letting a bead of blood bubble up on your smooth skin as you cried out in a sharp yelp. Lifting the knife he cut another hole in the shirt, repeating the process until it was less than a rag.

“I’m sorry okay?” You yelled, trying to turn yourself over onto your back, hoping that even if it was an awkward angle that maybe you could get a punch in. If he wanted you to fight, you sure as hell were going to.

“What am I supposed to do? Not fuck him?” You shouted, twisting in his grasp until you were able to push against his chest with one forearm.

“He loves you!” Ghost shouted back and you felt your face fall. “Do you- you love him?” He asked, changing the grip of the knife in his hand to prepare for downward strike.

“Wait! Wait- stop!” You squealed, kicking and squirming away from him.

“Ghost! Stop it. Please!” You whined, your voice getting high pitched and squeaky.

“Tell me.” He barked, dragging you down to the coffee table and forcing you down on it, he kneeled with one knee keeping you pinned there, his other foot firmly on the ground.

“No! I’m not-“ you shouted, thrashing around and landing a solid punch to his stomach. “I won’t tell you that!”

He groaned, the sensitive area of his abdomen felt a dull but consistent throbbing. No time to congratulate you on knocking the wind out of a grown man though, he had to get right back to business.

“You won’t?” He laughed, taking the knife and gliding the flat side over the tender flesh of your inner thigh, quickly jerking his wrist and leaving a thin line of red behind.

You swore you saw him physically shudder at the sight of your blood, you are certain however, that you saw him palm his cock.

“Why don’t you wanna tell me?” He asked, his tone sounding cheeky disguised as menacing.

Ghost ripped through the seam of the boxers you wore, pulling them off and exposing your his pussy for his eyes to feast on.

“It’s not your business!” You snapped back and immediately felt the punishment inflicted on your most sensitive area. His gloved hand smacking your pussy with a wet *clap* that drew a scream from deep within the depths of your chest.

“Like hell it is!” He yelled back, barely controlled rage was beginning to ooze from his eyes behind his mask.

“Do you love him?” He repeated, smacking your clit and sending a sharp jolt from your head to your toes while you gritted your teeth and dug your nails into your palms.

“Fucking whore.” He groaned, looking down at your quivering legs and dripping cunt as a new wave of arousal drenched your pussy.

“You don’t have to tell me you love this.” He grumbled, “I can see it.”

You felt something hard and cool circling your entrance, the temperature contrast causing you to gasp and Ghost took that as the perfect opportunity to slide the twin handles of his knife deep into your cunt. His leather glove encased the sharpness of the blade, but that didn’t stop the streak of pure fear that flooded your senses.

The panic was slowly replaced with a new kind of pleasure, one that was dull and curling. Tugging at the muscles encasing your most intimate organs, as if he were trying to ‘cut’ his way into your womb and stake his claim before Anakin could.

It was embarrassing the way you so quickly switched up your attitude. Formerly angry and mouthy, now your brain was too muddled to feel anything but submissive. Ghost was behind you, filming the filthy act with the flash on, acting as though he might suffer a heart attack before he could make you cum. His filming hand was shaky and his chest was heaving in an uneven rhythm.

“Fuck. You’re- I...” He breathed out, “Gods, what the fuck have you done to me?” He asked in a higher pitched voice that almost dropped out of the voice modification.

“C-can’t even stick to my own plans, y-you just…” he grunted, withdrawing the knife handles, watching your cunt clench around them as if trying to suck them back inside.

“Don’t you move, you hear me?” He barked, kneeing you in the side when you didn’t answer him.

“Ow! Fine!” You snapped back at him, trying to turn your head to look at him behind you when his foot came up and gently flexed forward to push your head back to the side.

“You wanna see what I’m doing?” He asked, not waiting for you to answer as he walked in from of where you laid, crouching down and resting his elbows on his knees lazily.

He pinched the knife by the blade between his forefinger, middle and thumb to waggle it in your face. He chuckled at your reaction to seeing your creamy juices coating the handles. He lifted the chin of his mask up slightly, still being careful not to show the slightest sliver of skin as he brought the handles to his lips and sucked them clean. His groan of approval came out distorted, not quite modified, not quite natural.

“Shit.” You whispered, resting your forehead on the cool wood of the coffee table.

“Alright.” He stood up. “Listen, listen good okay?”

You nodded, “Yes Sir.”

“That’s more like it.” He laughed, “Get your ass over there and bend over like I had you before.”

He pointed to the couch with one hand and absentmindedly twirled and flipped the knife in his other while he watched you do as he asked.

“I’m going to do what I want. For as long as I want.” He said plainly. “This isn’t about you. This is about me.”

“Do you understand?” He asked in a tight, clipped sentence.

“Yes Sir.”

“If you want to cum, do it yourself.” He grumbled, “better bite down on that belt baby.”

He stalked over to you and pushed his jeans down around his knees and pulled out his angry red tipped cock. Without hesitation, with no forethought, he plunged himself deep into your cunt and started off with a deep and hard pace. It might’ve been pleasurable had he not decided he’d try to fuck your guts.

He, nor had anyone else, ever pushed so deeply past your folds. Yes he’d kissed your cervix with his cockhead before, so had Anakin. But this? This was beyond that.

In his right hand he gripped your hair, using it as leverage while you futilely tried to stop yourself from jostling around so much by holding onto the backrest of the couch with one hand and the front end with the other.

It was quite useless in Ghost’s opinion, he laughed as he watched you struggle. Each thrust was so forceful that by the end of this brutal punishment you believed he’d have rearranged your living room furniture. The couch scraping across the floor inch by inch.

“Fuck.” He grunted. “I fucking needed this.” He breathed out, his upper body wracked with a shudder as he moaned loudly.

“Perfect little painslut.” Ghost gritted out, you imagined from the way the words left his lips he might need the belt between your teeth more than you did.

“I could fuck this hole- fuck it till it’s raw and sore and bleeding.” He groaned, “And even then, I wouldn’t be finished with you.”

“Shit-“ he gasped, leaning forward he put you in a headlock, his muscles constricted around your throat.

Ghost rested his forehead against the back of your head, looking down your curved back to see your ass rippling with each slap of skin on skin.

“Gonna fuck my cum so deep inside you,” Ghost’s hips stuttered. “so damn deep that stupid little pill will be useless.” He barked out the last part, the true aggression in his voice sent a shiver through you that made a cold sweat break out on the back of your neck.

“Hmph… oh damnit.” He shuddered, slowing down for just a moment to savor the high he felt from feeling your cunt milking him dry.

“You keep moaning like that and your boy across the hall will hear you.” He chuckled, releasing you from the headlock and pushing down on the small of your back to keep you in place, hearing the swish and click of him closing the rose handled knife, feeling it pressed against your hip bone as he held on.

“S-slow please.” You choked out while drooling down the belt between your teeth, feeling as though he might split you in half if he carried on this way.

“I told you to lay here and take it didn’t I?” He grunted, smacking your ass punishment.

“My pussy. My rules.” He barked.

“W-what?” You moaned out, trying to focus your mind on those words, rather than the way he sped up and stole your breath.

“Christ, you’re stupid.” he muttered to himself.

“Shut up, I don’t want to hear you speak unless it’s your safe word.” He growled, shoving your head down into the couch cushions.

Using quick shallow strokes he leaned back to change the angle slightly, making him choke out a half sob at the way your cunt gripped him. His hand left your hip again to flick out the knife blade and drag the cold steel down your spine. He stopped halfway and veered off to the left, digging the sharpened edge of the blade into the thin skin stretched over your ribs.

“Holy-“ you chomped down on the leather belt in your mouth so hard that it squeaked.

“So fuckin’ pretty.” He breathed out, for the first time quiet enough that his modifier didn’t catch it… and neither did you.

“You liked that didn’t you?” His chest rumbling as he spoke. “I felt you squeezing me.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, instead he thinly smeared the blood in a line across your back with the flat side of the blade until he found a suitable spot for a slight nick that had you jolting in surprise.

“Nasty girl.” He chuckled, “you like being fucked dumb and sliced up?”

“Uh huh.” You whimpered, gripping the couch cushions while Ghost leaned back to watch his cock plunging hard and fast into your pussy.

Creamy white cum and your slick coated the base of his cock, he desperately tried to hold himself back from another orgasm but it was damn near impossible when you had just openly admitted to liking his blade on your skin.

Your right ass cheek seemed the best place to cut next, he wanted to feel the warmth of your life dripping from the wound and down his thigh. He wanted to stain his body red in hopes of forming a blood bond, could he convince you to try that?

A surprisingly throaty moan left your lips and tumbled out in a long release of breath, his blade carving a diagonal line that leaked deep ichor down your beautiful skin. The sight of it being smeared and splattered with each piston of his hips had him buckling at the knees.

“Oh my-“ Ghost moaned, his knife clattering to the floor as he grabbed both your hips, purposely spreading the gorgeous red liquid across your skin as he went. “Didn’t think you could get any prettier.” He whispered in a hoarse voice.

He tightened his grip and listened to the squelch and slap of his cock bullying your insides, to the sweet sounds leaving your lips. He basked in the warm drip of your blood and the feeling of your pussy wrapped lovingly around him.

It was all so much. Too much.

With a few more brutal thrusts he came hard, his breath being stolen from his lungs as he shot his load into your depths.

“Fuck yes.” He gritted out, needing some kind of extra outlet for the intense adrenaline and endorphin rush he was experiencing, he punched the wall beside him without a second thought, denting the dry wall and smearing blood. “Hell fuckin’ yes baby.”

“Ghost!” You gasped and flinched at the *crack* of his fist making contact with the wall, “Can you ju-“

“Face down and close your fucking eyes,” he growled, shoving his cock back in his pants and tugging his jeans up. He saw you begin to part your lips and he interrupted. “that wasn’t a question goddamnit!”

You obeyed, closing your eyes and pressing your face into the couch cushions, hearing rustling coming from behind you. Ghost tossed his mask on the coffee table and took off his sweatshirt and tshirt, scrunching the shirt to create a makeshift blindfold, there was no time to go to your room and get the nice pretty silk handkerchief he’d bought for this purpose exactly. He needed this now.

He slipped it over you head and tightened it, then you felt the weight of his body push down on the couch cushion beside you, his still-gloved hands grabbing you by the shoulders and manhandling you over to sit sideways in his lap.

“What are- oh my god.” You gasped quietly feeling his bare skin for the first time, leather gloves guided you out of what was left of your shirt.

“Gh-“ You wanted to know why. Why was he doing this? Why now? But he shut you up by pulling you flush against his chest and descending upon your mouth.

He kissed you like his life depended on it. He kissed you like death when he lifts your soul from your lips. Ghost kissed you like you were the one who was consuming him. It was messy, desperate, and horribly quiet. The only noises being that of your lips and tongue clashing together and the sound of your mixed heavy breathing.

He was maskless. He couldn’t speak, he didn’t even want to let loose a single moan. So you did, you made enough noise for the both of you. Breathless gasps and whiny ‘mhhhhmm’s pierced his skull and wormed their way into his brain to take up permanent residency.

He had a tongue piercing… unexpected but definitely not unwanted. The metallic clicking was hypnotic in a way, tongues dueling carelessly between the two of you, so eager to taste more, to feel more. You know now that the strange, smooth thing that had accompanied his tongue while he had licked at your folds to wake you up, was the same jewelry that ran across the roof of your mouth while you felt up every square inch of bare skin on his body.

You never imagined that flesh could be such a sexy thing. Of course, it’s nice to look at on the body of someone you’re attracted to. Though feeling the flesh of a man who’d deprived you of seeing it, touching it; it was better than any drug on the market. With your brain fuzzy and addled with repeating thoughts of Ghost, he only made it worse by bringing your hand down to feel his half hard cock.

He had explored you in endless ways, countless times and now he was finally giving you the opportunity to do just alittle bit of the same for him. It didn’t last long however. Soon enough he was back to the domineering presence you’d come to know.

Slower this time, more carefully, he laid you back down on your stomach on the couch. Ghost pulled both your palms up to your ears to encourage you to create a sound barrier between you and whatever it was that he was about to do.

His tender lips caressing your back in feathery kisses, gentle and loving in a way you’d never received from Ghost before. His lips then made their way to your still trickling wounds, licking up the blood around the nick mark, a simple and tiny cut that was easily cleaned up. The longer, deeper wound across your ribs prompted him to get down on his knees in front of the couch.

Ghost leaned forward and licked the length of the bloody split in your flesh. A deep, rumbling moan left his unashamed lips. He was so unashamed in fact, that he found himself instantly rock hard again.

That just wouldn’t do. This is about him after all.

So he pulled himself free once more and spit a mixture of your blood and his saliva into his glove, setting to work on his throbbing and greedy cock. As he pumped his shaft his lips sucked and pulled at the wounded skin on your side, draining it of blood only to pull back and watch the pretty red reappear.

“That stings!” you whined as you pushed his head away.

A puff of air from his nose was your only response before he swatted your hand away and returned it to your ear. He did listen though, choosing to gently lap it up until the flow stopped almost completely.

Languidly stroking himself he held his breath for a moment, afraid he might let out a whimper more embarrassing than he ever had before. He moved behind you once more and licked up the blood from the last cut he’d made. He lapped up the last trickles of blood from your soft skin and kneeled behind you. Tapping your hip he signaled you to arch your back and lift up so he could get a better view of your poor abused cunt.

The pink and puffy folds looked even more enticing as he spit a fat glob of your bloody mixture at your center.

“Can’t… Ghost please.” You whined, your body sore and aching from overuse. “No more, I can’t.”

There was no verbal answer. Ghost ignored your pleas and left them unpunished, repositioning himself at your sopping wet hole. He easily slid in, letting out a shaky breath at the feel of your heated gummy walls. Slowly he rocked his hips into you, gently as though he were trying to soothe you after all the rough treatment.

You let yourself relax and accept his tender touches and unspoken apology. You were shaking from exhaustion, your mind too blank to do anything other than breathe and feel the pleasure of his cock moving inside you. With your ears still covered Ghost took the opportunity to tell you something that he’d been terrified of doing.

“My little doe.” He whispered as quietly as he could, “It’s me. It’s Anakin.”

Diary Entry: August 29th

Honestly doll. I don’t know how you survived yesterday, if my dick hurts… I can only imagine how your poor little pussy feels.

You handled it so well. Taking inch after inch, over and over again for me. All. Damn. Day.

The best part? You loved every second of it just as much as I knew you would. You loved the rough way I fucked you as myself. The loving way I made you mine.

But the way you took Ghost… after tucking away that little piece of Anakin that lives in him, (the bit that won’t fucking stick to the goddamn plan because you’re so… there’s not even a word for it. You know what I mean though.) I got to do what I needed.

Damn I desperately needed it. Don’t get me wrong little doe, I love regular sex with you. You know, the normal kind of kinky. A bit of hair pulling, some spanking, a little spit, the baby steps to the bigger shit.

The kind of kinky last night is the kind of shit that would get me committed if my mother found out about it. But is it really my fault that you’re so fuckable? No. It’s not. It’s not my fault that your pussy just so happens to fit the handles of my knife. It’s not my fault that you liked it either.

You can’t even be mad, so don’t go pretending you are next time I see you as Ghost. You can’t be mad because you leaked that sweet pussy nectar down my cock for two hours and 13 minutes, last night. Never heard the safe word and I’m not convinced that I will ever hear it.

You freaky bitch.

If I wasn’t already as depraved as I am, I’d be a bit concerned. You really tried your best to fight me, you tried your best to listen, you put in the effort. But your tiny little brain can only handle so much cock before it turns to mush. That’s my favorite, when I feel you start to relax, feel your breath change, see those pretty eyes go hazy. My perfect sex doll.

I like it when you go limp.

You know what I really liked about last night? I could feel the exact moment that I pushed you past a ledge you’d never even seen coming on the horizons of your imagination. You started to *shake*. You were limp and shaking beneath me, so exhausted you couldn’t muster up the strength to hold yourself up anymore. So drained that you couldn’t even moan correctly anymore.

And you still let me keep fucking you.

I can officially say that I have fucked you awake, I have fucked you in your sleep and I have fucked you to sleep.

I joked about it as myself with you, made you take your meds early and everything, I held you in my arms and let you wean yourself off my fingers and fall into dreamland.

But Ghost was relentless in his efforts to make you go unconscious via dick. I decided I earned a little treat for that. I haven’t decided what it will be yet but I’ll make it good. How many men can say that they’ve lovingly fucked someone into unconsciousness?

Oh! Just me? Nice.

So, you know I love the way your pussy tastes, but let me tell you something I never thought would leave my lips. I found something that is almost a tie for first place.

You bleed so beautifully. It’s truly a spectacle to behold, the crimson just compliments your skin so well. Next time… I’m taking off my gloves. I need to feel it in my hands, that slippery warmth that gives you the radiant life you live. That’s the closest I’ll ever get to holding your soul.

The coppery sweetness was more delicious that the finest wine that money can buy. I don’t give a shit if it’s got notes of birchwood and bullshit. Nothing can compare.

I get it now, the whole thing with people thinking vampires are sexy. What could be hotter than draining the life flowing through the veins of the one you love? What could top that ego boost from the trust you placed in me when I put that blade against your skin? I held the key to your existence in that moment, you’d be gone if I had stuck the blade in and twisted it to unlock death’s door.

But let’s not even think of that, I’d die before I ever let you.

Let’s focus on how rude it is that our blood types are not the same. I would’ve signed myself up for phlebotomy schooling if we shared blood types. Give myself a weekly transfusion. Humane and more socially acceptable vampirism.

Oh well, I prefer to taste it anyway.

It’s like a savory type of chocolate. You know those molten lava cakes? That’s what it’s like to cut into you and have a bite.

P.s. It was so fucking cute how you reacted to my bare skin and kisses. I used to be the one on the verge of collapse at every slight touch, seems like we’ve switched places.

P.p.s. I will be replacing your book and fixing your walls. I’m not sure what came over me when I punched the wall, that was like very uncalled for. Oops.

DATE

August 29th

When you awoke after your night of… activities, you were sore and tired in a way you hadn’t ever been before. Like the will to stand on your own two feet had been forcibly taken from you. As much as you wanted to get up and be productive, the ache between your legs refused to allow you any relief from the discomfort you felt. You needed to go to the hardware store and find something to fix the walls before Anakin came over later.

It would be difficult enough to come up with a cover story for the cuts across your back, but impossible to give a reason for the cracked drywall and the knife blade shaped slit in the opposite side. Once you finally gathered up enough determination to brave the wobble of your knees you stood up and exited your bedroom.

Ghost was too busy chatting, flicking the end of Boogie’s tail while he waited for your coffee to brew, to notice you’d waddled out of your bed to go to the bathroom. You could barely make out the faint white of his mask in the dim, curtain-blocked, morning light of the kitchenette, out of instinct you flipped the light switch and screeched in surprise.

You’d truly thought you might’ve just imagined him standing there and were shocked to realize he was flesh and bone. A flash of pale skin and black ink disappeared behind the counter top and re-emerged covered in leather. He had taken off one of his gloves to give Boogie some good morning pet-pets.

“Sorry doe.” He said apologetically, “I didn’t mean to spook you.”

“What are you doing?” You asked, your hand still resting on the light switch.

“Having a philosophical meeting of the minds.” He said, tapping Boogie on top of her head.

You scowled, “Anakin will kill you if he comes here and sees you. He has a key you know.”

“He won’t kill me.” Ghost chuckled, “He’s got a key? Nifty, so do I!” He added sarcastically.

“You didn’t really answer my question. Why are you still here?” You asked, eyes searching the room for anything out of order.

“Mmm yeah, that’s not what you asked me.” He chuckled, pulling open your silverware drawer and grabbing a spoon. “I’m not still here. I came back.” He answered as he scooped an unhealthy amount of sugar into your hello kitty mug.

“Okay… but why?” You held your hand palm up in questioning.

“I have important business to attend to.” He shrugged, pouring your coffee for you and stirring it into the sugar.

You pursed your lips but didn’t argue back, your eyes flicked back down to his now covered hand and back up to his face before turning to finish your initial quest.

“Where ya going baby?” He asked, staying behind the counter with his hands in his pockets.

“I have to pee.” You mumbled.

“M’kay.” His filtered voice rumbled as he turned to stop the microwave from dinging to signal your brown sugar oatmeal was finished cooking.

He did not however catch your cinnamon swirl toast in time and the shrill noise the appliance made sent the cat scrambling off the counter and knocking a few miscellaneous items into the floor. He stooped down and picked them up, placing them back on the counter top.

After your food was ready he sat it at the bar for you to sit and eat at while he got to work on setting out the supplies he’d bought to fix the walls and clean the couch. He walked to the bathroom and knocked on the door with two knuckles.

“Hey, you have some gloves in there don’t you? Like for when you dye your hair?” He asked, having realized it would probably be difficult to spackle the walls in leather gloves.

“Yes?” You responded confusedly.

“Good, open the door.”

“What? No!” You scoffed, standing naked and preparing to hop in the shower.

“Doe just open the damn door.” He grumbled, listening to you rustle around behind the locked door.

“Here.” You huffed, opening it just a crack and thrusting your hand out to drop the gloves into his.

“Thanks. You should hurry, I made you breakfast.” He said in an oddly warm tone.

“You did?” You asked, opening the door just a bit more to look at him.

“Yeah. I know you well enough to know you planned on going straight to that couch and not moving until forced to.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “I also know you well enough that I called in sick for you today.”

You stared at him for a minute, he called your work for you? That means someone at your work must’ve heard his real voice right? A bubble of jealousy formed in your gut at the thought that one of your coworkers heard Ghost’s voice before you did.

“What?” He asked sharply.

“Nothing… thank you.” You shook your head, eyes wide as you contemplated calling the diner to ask if they recognized the voice.

You mulled it over while you were in the shower, weighed the pros and cons while dressing yourself in some lounge clothes, and thoroughly pondered it as you ate your breakfast and watched Ghost work.

It was comical to see him being so domestic, kind of like seeing a documentary about a wolf pup raised as a house pet. It could snap and destroy the house, destroy you at any moment. Just like Ghost.

But there he was, Fixing his mistake in the most calm and collected way possible. It was a soothing process to watch, score the damaged drywall with an exacto knife, break it off in a clean, straight line with a satisfying snap. Cut the mesh to cover the now smooth edged square of missing drywall, **zzzzrrip** the weirdly thin and fabric-y tape to hold it in place. Then came the best part, watching him patch it over with pink spackle, smooth it out as best he could then watch it turn from pink to greyish white as it dried.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” You asked, sipping your coffee and staring at his hands. The thin blue latex was almost stretched enough to make out the blob of the tattoo you’d caught sight of earlier.

“Summer job as a teenager.” He answer shortly, it’s not like he could give specifics. He’d spoken of his handyman work with his god-father to you before.

“So you don’t work in construction or something like currently?” You asked, trying to cross out a few ‘maybe’ identities of people tall enough and lean enough to fit Ghost’s build.

“No.” He snorted and looked over at you, his knowing smile might as well have been visible from the body language.

“Don’t give me that look.” You huffed, “I’m narrowing down my list.”

“I know you are.” He laughed. “That’s why it’s funny.”

“Well I know you don’t work in construction and you have a hand tattoo…” You crossed your arms and scrunched up your nose to accompany a sassy head bobble.

You’d caught his attention, he turned to fully face you, one arm across his chest and the other’s elbow resting on his fist as he held the putty knife covered in spackle away from his body.

“Hand tattoo?” He repeated in low accusatory way.

“Yeah, you have one.” You pointed toward the hand he held the putty knife in.

“What is it?” He asked, walking a few steps forward.

“I don’t know I just saw a blur of it earlier this morning.” You said, shifting uncomfortably in your chair.

He stood and stared, studying your expression and seeking the truth. After finding no evidence of deceit he nodded and turned back to resume his work on the wall. Every so often you caught him taking a peek over his shoulder at you, like he was suspicious after hearing you’d seen a part of him he hadn’t willingly shown you.

“Are you mad?” You asked anxiously, his whole demeanor had changed so quickly that it was a bit frightening and not in a good way.

“No.” The word was clipped and gruff as he cleaned up his tool and put the lid on the small bucket of spackle.

He walked back to the other wall and sanded the, now dry, patch until it was smooth enough to paint over and blend into the wall as if nothing had happened. You walked over and had planned to sit down on the couch but you realized it covered in some kind of weird clumpy power and damp to the touch.

“Gross, what is this?” You whipped your head around to ask Ghost.

“OxyClean and dish soap.”

“Why?”

“You bled all over the couch.” He responded, you hadn’t seen any blood spots, but there were definitely wet patches where he’d scrubbed the upholstery. He’d also… super glued the knife slash in the fabric back together, how very him of him.

“Okay but like why is it still on the couch?” You asked curiously.

“It needed to sit for longer.” He huffed like he was irritated with your questions.

“Oh, well I can finish it then.” You offered, hoping it might appease him.

“No, I started it. I will finish it.” He kept his words clipped, not hiding that he wasn’t interested in speaking to you right now.

“Okay then.” You snapped back at him, turning on your heel and stomping back to your bedroom and slamming the door shut.

The sharp noise startled Ghost and he whipped his head around instinctively. His jaw clenched tightly, upset with himself for being upset with himself. He didn’t mean to be an ass either, he just needed some time to accept that he’d fucked up and almost exposed his identity because he wanted to pet the fucking cat.

He groaned and turned back around, pounding lightly on his forehead of his mask with both fists in frustration. Bending down to pick up his cup but knocking it over and spilling what was left in it.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?“ he growled and gritted his teeth “damnit!”

Lucky for Ghost he wasn’t using a glass cup, no shattered mess to clean up. He instead was unlucky enough to be using a large metal, insulated tumbler, which made a very loud and reverberating *dtink* when he kicked it with his socked foot across the living room. Before the cup had the chance to land he had already picked up his foot and leaned one arm on the wall as he flexed his toes, it fucking hurt and his fist collided with the wall in anger, this time going straight through the drywall and into the wooden bracers behind it.

“Aw- fuck, goddamnit,” he pulled his fist from the wall and shook it out, grabbing his wrist and rolling his hand while flexing his fingers, “stupid son of a-“

“I need a cigarette.” He huffed, not bothering to put on shoes as he stalked over to the window and opened it, grabbing his bag on the way.

Diary Entry: August 30th

Sorry for putting three holes in the wall.

I’ll admit that was alittle bit much. But it’s all fixed now and in the past so let’s not dwell on it. We’ve got more important things to do! Like taking you to the movies for a little date night.

Some kind of comedy thing for girls. I’m expecting it to be like that one with Melissa McCarthy. It looks stupid as hell which is a good thing because it’ll be funny even if it’s not. I don’t really care what we watch, you just told me no romance cause it’s ‘cheesy’.

Which makes no sense because your whole bookshelf is a giant collection of random species bangin’ each other. I mean seriously, I cracked one open cause the cover looked pretty and the first thing I saw was ‘the muscular werewolf thrust his-‘

That’s as far as I got before I went blind from fear.

DATE

August 31st

Anakin whistled low and gave you a cheeky smirk that crinkled the corners of his eyes. Seeing you coming into your bedroom in just a towel, skin still damp from the shower. You popped your head up with a slight gasp of surprise, not realizing he’d come in while you were still in the bathroom.

“Sh-“ you grinned, realizing it was just him and shook your head at him. “You scared me!”

“Boo.” He snickered as he laid back in your bed with his arms resting behind his head, his legs crossed at the ankles.

“Ani, are we going casual or are we going fancy?” You asked, walking over to your closet and flicking through clothes.

You looked over your shoulder to get his opinion and had to do a double take, your cat walked across the bed and kneaded Anakin’s shirt before laying down on his chest. A flash of an image that you refused to see clearly tried to blend with the scene before you.

“Ah-Anakin?” You asked in a slightly louder voice. “Clothes?” You blinked a few times, trying to rid yourself of the lines forming between your eyebrows.

“Oh sorry doll, I got distracted.” He cleared his throat and tossed his phone aside. “Clothes? Whatever you want, you’re pretty in everything.”

“I’m wearing this.” He added gesturing to the ripped black jeans and a Vulvodynia tshirt. “And my TUKs for my tootsies.” He pointed toward the bedroom door where the lace up boots sat neatly against the wall.

“So how about this then?” You held up a shirt and a pair of pants on their hangers.

“I told you whatever you want babydoll.” He chuckled, “although if you really want my opinion I’ll give it to you.”

“I really do.” You nodded, jutting out your hip.

“Keep the shirt… grab that one real long skirt, the one with the open bit on the side.” He said, reaching down to trace a line up his calf to his knee. “Maybe those sandals with the thick bottoms.”

“A skirt?” You asked, making a face.

“Doll, you know I like it when you wear skirts and dresses.” He poked out his bottom lip in a pout. “You’re my girl, my pretty princess no matter what you wear… but you did ask for my opinion.” He tilted his head, toying with his lip ring and nodding toward your closet.

You got out the long black maxi skirt and paired it the shirt and shoes, walking over to the bedside. Anakin shooed off the cat and sat up to swing his lanky legs off the edge of the bed, he reached up to tuck your shirt into the high-hemmed waistband and then tugged it back out slightly to make it alittle loose.

“Damn. That’s my baby.” His voice low and gritty as he stood up to wrap his arms around your waist, his hands pressing you close to his chest to give you a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“C’mon sweet girl.” He patted your ass to get you moving, following behind you to slip into his boots.

“Wait, hold on.” You said, holding up a finger and jogging to your bathroom, re-emerging with a lint roller.

“Really?” He groaned and pulled the hem of his shirt to make the fabric taut.

“Yes really. When you wear all black and live with a cat you have to lint roll yourself Ani.” You rolled your eyes and aggressively rolled the sticky paper over his clothes.

“It’s a waste of paper, it’s bad for the environment.” He mumbled, turning around to let you get his back too.

“Your attitude is bad for my environment.” You muttered under your breath.

“What did you just say?” He snickered.

“You heard me.” You grinned, tossing the lint rolled back into the bathroom cabinet.

“Yes I did. I’m just a bit confused, when did we have children and why are you the father?” He snorted.

“Ha-ha, we’ve both made dad jokes. Let’s go.” With your hands on mid back you pushed him toward the door, making him laugh.

Waiting in line for popcorn with Anakin took much longer than you would’ve liked and he was beginning to get antsy. He stood behind you, his hands on your hips and his chin resting atop your head, clicking his teeth together to the tune of some song stuck in his head. His fingers drumming along as well, tapping across your hip bones.

“Oh thank fuck.” He sighed dramatically, stepping to the side of you and grabbing your drinks and popcorn.

“You act like we didn’t just eat like two hours ago.” You rolled your eyes and gave him a smile, watching him hold both drinks and the huge bucket of popcorn.

He bent his head down and ate a few pieces straight from the bucket, “That was two hours ago, this is now.” He swallowed and went right back in for another bite or two.

“You know I can carry something. So you can eat with your hands.” You laughed, passing by other theater rooms on the way to yours.

“No, I got it sweetheart.” He said softly, giving you a warm look. “I’m pretty good with my mouth anyway. Aren’t I baby?” He teased, licking the inside of his cheek while he watched your cheeks heat up.

“Shh!” You giggled and grabbed his upper arm, steering him into the correct theater room and up the steps to the top row. “Yes, you are.”

“Hands too?” He asked after putting your cups in the cup holders and helping you get settled. He lifted up the armrest between the two of you and snaked his arm behind you, scooting you closer and squeezing your ass.

“Hands too.” You whispered, the blush on your cheeks was red hot by now and you were thankful for the dark and sparse room.

“What about my c-“

“Perfect!” You said quickly, clapping your hand over his mouth while Anakin chortled behind your palm.

“Poor little princess?” He cooed, pinching your thigh and making you squirm. “Feeling all flustered? Out in public? Naughty thing.”

“Anakin Skywalker!” You whisper-shouted smacking at his hand that wandered from your ass to your upper thigh.

“Bet I could make you cum before the previews are over.” He leaned down, his lips brushing your earlobe.

“It’s okay babydoll, it’s just you and me up here.” His voice was soothing and much too convincing to ignore completely. Especially when he sat aside the popcorn in the next seat over and palmed his cock to adjust himself.

His hand gripped the back of your neck and tilted your head toward him, his lips meeting yours in a slow, sensual dance. He bunches up your skirt to your knees, picking up on leg and hooking it over his thigh to give him easier access.

“Need you to be quiet pretty girl, think you can do that f’me?” Anakin’s deep, sultry voice fanned over your jaw as he kissed the side of your neck.

“Mhm.” You nodded, keeping your mouth closed to avoid the moan you knew was going to follow his fingers slipping past your panties and running through the slick mess between your pussy lips.

“Keep that mouth open.” He whispered, smiling when you obeyed, dropping your jaw slightly “That’s a good girl.”

Anakin swirled his fingers around your entrance, twisting his wrist slowly as he gently pushed inside. Scissoring his fingers along the top wall, focusing the varied pressure on the spongey spot that took your breath away.

He smiled, tucking his head against your neck, tilting it to the side as he rocked his hand against you, “Grind on my hand princess, show me how nasty my angel can be.”

The heel of his palm was pressed firmly against your clit to help you get the friction you needed as his fingers worked their magic on your inner walls. Massaging wide circles as you bucked against his hand.

“Ani…” you whispered, grabbing his wrist and trying to move his hand away.

“Shh.” He silenced you with his lips on yours, his tongue laving away at yours. His soft, plump lips cradling yours in a moment of pure brain fog for you. He’d completely erased your knowledge of your surroundings, blacked your vision and muffled the sounds around you until all you could hear was his heartbeat as he put his hand over your mouth and tucked your head against his chest.

“Doing so good f’me,” he whispered into your hair, “you’re gonna cum when I tell you to okay?”

“You think you can handle that princess?” He asked, pressing his warm lips to your temple.

You nodded, tilting your head back to look up at his crystal blue eyes. He gave you a soft smile, kissed the tip of your nose and nudged your cheek so that you’d turn your head to the side. He licked the shell of your ear, nibbling along the curve of the cartilage down to your earlobe, his hot breath fanning over your flesh.

“I love you.” He whispered, telling you again and not expecting an answer, even though you gave him one nonverbally.

Your pussy squeezing his fingers tightly in response to the words, he wasn’t convinced that it could just be coincidence so he said it again, his voice gritty and low.

“I love you, my girl.” He kissed your jaw, his lips curving into a smile when he felt your pussy flutter again.

“Oh, I see.” He chuckled lowly, pulling back to see your eyes rolling back in your head. He shifted his hand over your mouth slightly and pinched your nose, cutting off your air supply completely.

You tried to suck in a deep breath out of surprise, getting choked on nothing as a result, your eyes opened in panic but you calmed slightly seeing the serene and loving look on Anakin’s face.

“Ready?” He asked, watching your face.

“Three.” He whispered, speeding up his ministrations, your hands clenching tightly, nails digging into your fists, your vision getting blurry.

“Two.” His thumb moving your clit and flicking over it rapidly, making you jump and whimper behind his hand.

“Shhh quiet.” He whispered, kissing the top of your head and breathing in your scent as your lungs began to burn.

“One.” His lips brushing across your ear have you cold chills down your back as you willed yourself to stay as silent as possible while Anakin cradled your head to his chest, he released your nose to let you breathe. The rush of lightheadedness made you cum even harder, curling yourself up against him and trapping his hand between your thighs.

You stayed like that for a moment, catching your bearings and recalibrating your senses. After he released your mouth you did the same for his hand, but kept your legs draped over him for the comfort of having him hold you. He sucked his fingers clean and wiped them off on his jeans, picking up his drink and taking a long sip of blue slushee just as the title card of the movie flashed on screen.

“See, told you.” He said casually, his other arm around your waist, rubbing your side languidly.

——————————————————————————

“You look so sleepy.” Anakin laughed, petting your hair as he walked with you up the stairs in your apartment building.

“I am so sleepy!” You pouted.

“Oh poor wee baby.” He cooed, pinching your sides and picking you up to lug you over his shoulder down the hall to your apartment.

“It’s only 9:00pm.” He said, unlocking your door and setting you down in the entryway. “You ready for bed?”

“Yes, extremely.” You nodded, shuffling toward your bathroom to take off your makeup and brush your hair.

“Well shit baby, did I really mess you up that bad?” He asked, following behind you with a guilty look on his face.

It was your turn to feel guilty now. You can’t tell him the truth can you? The lies and omissions were beginning to affect you in ways you hadn’t expected. You were beginning to see things that simply couldn’t be reality, making making connections by snipping threads and tying the ends in an order that forced things to make sense.

You felt your palms begin to sweat and couldn’t meet his pretty blue eyes as you lied to the man who loves you.

“Mhm.” You nodded, your eyes flickering to his brow bone to give the illusion you were gazing into his eyes just as adoringly as he was looking into yours. “You’ve been wearing me out Ani.”

“In a good way? Have I hurt you?” He asked, cupping your cheeks up with his soft, careful hands.

Did you even deserve those soft touches?

“Oh, no Ani you didn’t hurt me.” You shook your head quickly.

‘At least that wasn’t a lie.’

“Okay princess… do you need me to get you anything?” Anakin took the washcloth from your hands and finished wiping the black streaks from under your eyes, grabbing the brush and running it through your hair. The bristles scratching your scalp just the way you like it.

“No, just you.” Your quiet voice floated up to him, he watched your lips moving in the mirror and it was clear to him that something had severely dulled your mood.

“Alright, let’s put you to bed then sweetheart.” He set aside your brush, kissing the top of your head and steering you toward the bedroom.

Anakin squeezed your shoulder and turned away to retrieve a pair of pajamas, a matching set you’d put on and took right back off just a few days ago. The sight of it nearly caused you to burst into tears, it was just fabric, nothing more that soft threads and stitching. Though seeing it in his hands made you feel sick to your stomach.

He handed them to you with a soft smile, slipping from his jeans and out of his shirt until he was left in just his boxers. He flung back the covers and snuggled down under the blankets on your side of the bed.

“What are you doing?” You asked, the corner of your lip twitching into a smile.

“A certain little lady hates cold sheets, so I’m making ‘em warm.” He said as he pulled the covers over his head with a contented ‘mmm’.

He was sweet, too sweet for you. Too kind, too thoughtful, too good. You were right about him in the beginning, he is too good to be true, though it’s no fault of his own. It’s you who is to be blamed.

With the lights switched off and the bedroom door shut, you magnetized yourself to Anakin after he had rolled into his spot and pulled you to his chest. His warmth seeping through your flesh as a balm for the wounded soul that wallowed in the center of your chest.

Diary Entry: August 31st

Have I let this go on for too long?

I feel like I’ve pushed us past the point of no return, your stress around me, my myself… it’s tangible. Like you’re worried you’ll say or do the wrong thing. I never intended for that. I didn’t intend for this to go on as long as it has at all.

I should’ve banished Ghost to The Pit after you’d accepted me into your life. I should’ve hung up the mask and retired my persona. I’ve always had trouble knowing when enough is enough, when to stop. It’s a difficulty that I’ve yet to overcome and probably never will.

It’s confusing for me, I can only imagine how confusing it is for you. You’re in the middle of it all, you are the center of my world, the sun in my star system. And because you are my everything, I will do anything to keep it that way. To keep you.

DATE

September 2nd

Anakin paced the living room of his apartment, his thoughts traveling faster than a bullet train with a nitro boost. You would be arriving any minute now, you called your sister, you called Luke, but you texted him.

Yes he could hear your calls, but that only gave him half the information he needed. Information you were on your way to share with him.

Anakin was disappointed in himself. He should’ve bugged your backpack long ago, you take it almost everywhere. He could’ve caught the conversation you shared with your sister over lunch the day before. He would’ve been prepared for news, he would’ve had time to plan and time to practice.

What other conversations had he missed out on? Who else have you spoken to?

He was so caught up in his pondering and pacing that he failed to notice your appearance at the bottom of the stairwell, showcased on his laptop.

“Shit.” He muttered, palms tingling before beginning to sweat as he heard the doorknob click and turn. Anakin rushed to the coffee table and shut his laptop quickly, just as you entered the room.

You glanced toward his hand on the sleek metal and up to his face, a blank expression met you where there would usually be a wide goofy grin. You started to say something but stopped short when your phone buzzed, glancing down at it as you lifted the screen upward a *ping* sounded on Anakin’s laptop.

You watched as he picked it up and opened it to view the screen, he sat down heavily on the couch and started typing, looking up at you and beckoning you over with and wave of his hand.

“Sit with me sweetheart, s’just mom.” He rolled his eyes, tapping away at his keyboard replying to a non-existent message from Shmi.

He shut it down and sat it aside again, opening up his arms to let you lay against his chest. Giving you a light squeeze as you settled down, running his hands down your back.

“So, this weekend me, my sister and Luke are going out to the lake.” You started, putting one hand on his chest and resting your chin there.

“Oh?” His eyebrows raised, the lower half of his face remained unchanged.

“Yeah! We do it almost every year.” You smiled, “we get a cabin for a weekend and well usually Luke’s sister comes too but you know she just had the baby not too long ago so she’s not too keen on leaving just yet.”

“Sounds like fun doll.” He nodded, “Are you excited?”

“I am…” your smile faded slightly, noticing something about his tone wasn’t quite right.

“That’s good sweetheart, I bet you’ll have a great trip.” He pushed your hair behind your ear and put his palm on the back of your head to flex his fingers and gently scratch your scalp. “No skimpy little swimsuit, this bangin’ body is for me.” He teased, lightly kneading your ass.

You wanted to smile and giggle, to chide him for his comment but it didn’t feel right. His internal light seemed dimmer, a flickering bulb before it burns out with a *pop*.

“Is everything okay?” You whispered, feeling like if you spoke to loudly you might startle him.

“Huh? Oh yeah princess.” He nodded, giving you a little smile. “Sorry, I’m just feeling a little bit too in my head today.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked him, watching his face shift for just a split second into something you didn’t quite recognize.

“Ah well it’s nothing really.” He shook his head, the corner of his mouth turning up.

“No, there’s something wrong I can tell.” You pressed on, a twist in you guts telling you the worst scenario had come to fruition.

“Just- it’s fine okay?” He answered in a curt, snippy tone.

“Ani…” you reached up and played with his lip piercings, tracing them in a feather light touch that he found soothing.

“I’m irritated.” He scowled, picking up a hand from your back and running it through his hair. You opened your mouth to speak and he shushed you quickly.

“You wanted me to talk, I’m talking.” His voice sharp. “I don’t like that you didn’t discuss this with me beforehand. You’re going somewhere without me, somewhere I’ve never been. How am I supposed to know you’ll be safe?”

“This should’ve been a topic of discussion. You should’ve spoke to me before agreeing to it.”

“I go on this trip every year, it’s perfectly safe. It’s very calm, there’s not many people. I’ll be just fine Anakin.” You sighed, not particularly enthused about his attitude.

“I feel purposely left out. I like to be included in decision making when it comes to you, I don’t think you’d be very happy if I decided to go on a weekend trip without telling you until after I had decided I was going.” His voice raising slightly, his heart beat quickening beneath your palm.

“I wouldn’t have told you no.” He scowled, “but now I want to.”

“Anakin.” You furrowed your eyebrows, “I… I should have talked to you. You’re right, I would be upset if you decided to go somewhere with talking to me first.”

“But I don’t think it’s fair for you to tell me I can’t go.” You added, pushing off his chest.

“I’m not telling you that you can’t go.” His voice low and annoyed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I don’t want to argue before I leave Ani.” You sighed, feeling him recoil after you said ‘leave’.

“Then we won’t argue.” He huffed. “Look at me.” Anakin said, grabbing your chin as you turned away. “You will call me when you get there. You will call me before bed. You will respond to me when I text you. Understood?”

“I’m sorry Anakin I shouldn’t have-“

“Do you understand me?” He asked again, shaking your chin lightly.

“Yes.” You nodded, looking down at your hands in your lap and feeling a sense of guilt.

“Good girl.” He grunted, “Here.” He pulled you back down to his chest, rubbing your back and cradling your head, rocking you in a slow side to side motion.

“I’m not mad.” He whispered into your hair, his cheek pressed against the crown of your head. “I’m worried. I just worry about you sweetheart, I’m sorry if I sounded harsh.”

“N-no.” You shook your head. “No you were right Ani. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“Always such a good girl.” His voice cracking as his pressed his lips firmly to the top of your head. “Don’t worry bout it baby, I’m not upset with you.”

——————————————————————————

Anakin slammed the trunk of your car shut and pushed down for good measure, turning around and dusting off his hands, he leaned back on your car. Giving you a smile he pulled you in for a hug, wrapping you in his arms tightly.

“You be careful pretty girl.” He mumbled against your forehead before nuzzling into your neck.

“I will, I’ll call as soon as I get there I promise.” You said, nodding your head to solidify your words. “I’ll text and let you know when I’ve picked up Luke.”

“Alright sweetheart.” He smiled, “I hope you have a really good time. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too Ani.” You looked away, knowing what was coming next. Anakin cupped your cheek to make you meet his gaze.

“I love you.” His pupils dilated into big black saucers as he stared into your own. Those pretty eyes he adored so much, the eyes that told him what you wouldn’t say out loud.

You put your arms up around his neck, and tip toed to capture his lips in a soft, lax lipped kiss. One meant to be short and sweet, though with Anakin it’s almost impossible to achieve such a thing. He dominated your mouth in a heated kiss, his tongue curling to brush over yours while he hummed in satisfaction.

You slid one hand down his chest to pull back before you both got carried away in the parking lot of your apartment building. Anakin chased your lips with his, earning a giggle from you and plastering a smirk on his face.

“One more princess.” He mumbled, leaning forward to kiss your jaw. “Please? Gotta make you miss me.”

“I’m already gonna miss you.” You laughed, “don’t make it even worse!”

“I need it to be worse.” He grinned. “A whole weekend without you? I need you wet when you walk in the door.”

“Why’s that?” You asked, your cheeks heating up.

“Well it’d be real rude of me not to get my girl wet before I make sweet love to her wouldn’t it?” He spoke against your neck, squeezing your ass hard.

“Mhm. It would.”

“I’m impatient, I want you just as needy as me when you get home.” He nipped says your neck, pressing his bulge against your hip, making you gasp.

“Ani that’s not fair.” You pushed his head away, trying to squirm out of his grip as he peppered your flesh with his lips.

“Mm. Don’t talk to me about what’s fair.” He grumbled. “Why don’t you just let me have a taste huh, princess?”

“I’m gonna be late!” You squealed as he picked you up and sat you down on the trunk of your car, grinding himself against your clothed cunt.

“You think I give a shit?” He asked, his hands sliding under your shirt and lightly exploring your abdomen, his tongue running along your collarbone.

“Anakin wait there’s-“

Before you could finish speaking a horn blared loudly as a car drove by slowly in the parking lot, the driver scowling with their hands thrown up. Anakin jumped and whipped around quickly to flip the driver a double bird.

“Ani!” You smacked at his shoulder but couldn’t help laughing when he turned around with a goofy grin on his face.

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate

@burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi

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@angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @hopesworlld @lonaah @guiltycherries @syralix @doblasftcisco

@demieyesore

THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Found Pt. 2 | 141 & Reader

Summary: Your second day at the new foster home is eventful, to say the least. Kyle shows you the chickens, and teaches you some harpy biology.

Word Count: ~ 5.9k

Warnings: old religious trauma (homophobia), reader having a lil girl crush, implied gazsoap, past trauma, baths, stealing, little panic attack, non sexual shirtless kyle, trauma, mentions of old parents and counselors

A/N: well, here’s part two, a very gaz-centric one. i think the next part will have more of the other boys, but pretty boy kyle is too temptinggg, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

You didn’t sleep well in new places.

It was a common thing you’d come to accept by now, the fact that you never slept well in new homes. Whether it be the little grandma who’d welcomed you into her warm and stuffy house full of cats, and the thick blankets she’d ushered you under, or the lawyer-man who’d been looking for a child to replace his late wife. It didn’t matter who it was.

The walls still felt like they were closing on, hot breaths still felt like they were behind you, whispers and creaks in the night that you weren’t sure if you were imagining or not. Houses all seemed to have a life of their own in the night.

The animals, wandering around, the windows breathing while the floor groaned and rubbed its aching bones and joints. The doors muttered to themselves as the fans spun round and round, singing their own clunky melody. ACs or heaters hummed to themselves.

Every house had its own chorus of sounds in the night when things that were too shy to come out in the morning dared to venture out. It was just a matter of how long it took you to get used to it without being frightened. Without thinking someone was in the walls or floors.

You had curled up in the corner of the bed, blankets thrown haphazardly around, an old hoodie that still dwarfed you even now on your figure as you’d glanced around until your eyes closed on their own. You hadn’t slept well. You blamed it on the house.

People you’d seen a long time ago drifted through dreams, with strange things accompanying them. A flying fish. A man-sized axolotl with a talking triangle. A strangely round man in a jumper. A ghoulish mask that had been worn before in completely different parts of the world, but the two had never met.

Your dreams were always vivid. Maybe that was why you kept a dream journal still, if not inspired by the strange movie you’d seen in the cat-queen grandma’s house with a girl dressed in red and a boy with sharp, spiky hair. Your old school’s counselor had also suggested it.

“For processing old traumatic memories,”

She’d tried to explain, but you’d been more focused on the framed pictures on the wall. Faces. Bodies. Her family, probably.

They weren’t pretty.

But you’d remembered that one sentence, and so, opening the little book while the sun began peeking through the window’s curtains, you’d pulled a black crayola marker from your backpack and began scribbling down in the worn, tattered book. It was small, smaller than your average little diary, but not small enough to where you needed to get a new one because of filling it up. You could squeeze words in somewhere.

As you put down all you could recall, you wondered what school you’d be going to next. The switch was always somewhat jarring, and most of the time you ended up going to the closest public school.

The lawyer-man had tried to send you to a private school. It hadn’t ended well.

Since you were in a completely new county, it would be another new school, you assumed. You might make a few new friends before you switched again. Maybe not. Friends were usually made with you when an extrovert saw you hiding in a corner and decided to pick you up and drag you along into their friend groups. Not that you were complaining.

Today was a Sunday.

They might send you tomorrow for the first day. The school year was already a month in, late enough for a few friend groups to have formed, but not too late for you to join in.

You decided to focus on today.

John and Johnny had been praying at the table, Kyle had muttered something, making you wonder if they went to Church or not. You’d gone to a Church once. It had been old and tall with lots of delicate carvings and colorful windows with the woman in blue and the man in white.

There had been a lot of kneeling and standing and sitting while they repeated phrases and things you hadn’t understood at the time. They’d given you a thin piece of bread and a small glass of grape juice that you’d eaten and drank. It tasted old.

And that had been the first and only Mass you ever went to.

Then there had been the second time you’d gone to a Church. It had been on a Wednesday, in a rectangle-shaped building that was old and hummed like a refrigerator. There had been a lot of older kids there, a girl your age named Carol, but with a K.

Karol had been nice. Her hair had been flat and short and brown, like a mouse, you thought. Her eyes had been a chocolate brown like Simon’s, but she hadn’t had the same blond lashes he had.

All the kids had gathered in a circle, holding hands. Your palms had been sweaty, but Karol hadn’t minded, giving you a reassuring smile as they began reciting verses from their Bibles, verses you didn’t know. You didn’t bother to look at the Bible Karol had borrowed to you. You were more focused on the fact that her hand was in yours, and you couldn’t stop looking at her, and you’d felt warm and fuzzy.

And that was when you understood something was wrong with you.

There was a reason you’d never seen two women holding hands in a Church, whether it was shaped like a rectangle, or tall, old, and sharp. Your then-mom had stopped taking you to Church on Wednesday after you’d told her about it.

The sun had gotten tired of peeking over the ledge of the window and fully emerged when you were done sitting and thinking. You held the journal pages up to study, to see your handiwork.

Your handwriting was messy but recognizable. The one thing that remained constant in your life. There was a doodle of the fish-man, a messy skull pattern, a triangle with a bowtie, a big axolotl head, and the fat man in the rainbow jumper. You decided you liked this page.

But the sun was up, so the journal was closed, marker cap out back on, and both were shoved deep into your backpack, covered with clothes and headphones you hadn’t taken out yet. You’d do it tomorrow, you thought, despite knowing you wouldn’t do it tomorrow. Maybe the day after, then.

The floor was a bit cold when your feet pressed against it. It didn’t creak under your weight as it had under Johnny’s, which made sense since you were considerably lighter. You took light steps, feet rolling to be quieter. You wouldn’t want to wake any of them up.

The smell of something hit your nose as you opened the door, it quietly creaking. Eggs. Bacon, maybe? Some kind of meat. With how large they were, they probably ate a huge amount of food. No wonder the fridge was so large.

You heard voices from the kitchen as you slowly padded down the hallway, sticking close to one wall, hoping they didn’t see your shadow or notice you.

“I wanna do it—“

“You’ll scare her, Soap.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you wanna wake the lass up!”

“No, I’m just concerned for her best interests.”

A low growl that made you stiffen. You couldn’t tell whether it was friendly or aggressive.

“Ye sayin’ I ain’t in her best interests?”

He was mad. You heard Kyle’s exasperated sigh, you could’ve heard it from a mile away.

“You know that’s not what I meant. You’re just…”

A beat of silence.

“Just what?”

Another beat of silence.

“Loud. Really loud. I’m just scared you’ll scare her off, okay? I’ve gotten her to warm up a little bit—“

“—I’ve helped too—“

“—right, like your claws are so heartwarming—“

“You’re burnin’ the bacon and scarin’ the kid.”

The newspaper rustled after Simon interrupted their argument, and you felt blood rush to your cheeks as Kyle peeked out of the kitchen from the stove where he’d been standing, seeing you standing in the hallway, just around the corner from the kitchen.

Johnny peeked over next, seeing the slightly guilty look on your voice, and exchanging a reluctant glance with Kyle. How Simon had noticed you wasn’t clear.

“Nosy,”

Kyle said in amusement, a glimmer of worry in his eyes as he took in your tired look.

You walked into the kitchen, seeing Simon and John sitting at the table, the wraith giving a little grunt in acknowledgment as he read the newspaper next to John, the bear-hybrid working on a crossword puzzle with an old pen.

John raised his brows, patting the seat next to him in an invitation, and after glancing at Kyle, who gave a little nod, you padded over and crawled into the wooden seat, settling, eyes going to the crossword.

“How’d you sleep?”

He rumbled.

You made a little sideways thumbs up. Or a sideways thumbs down. Same difference, really.

The crossword had lots of names of celebrities you didn’t know and didn’t care to know. Random things, too. There were a few in Morse code that John had filled in.

“Figured. No one sleeps too well in a brand new place.”

He answered, chuckling at something he found funny that you didn’t. Johnny and Kyle were now speaking in hushed whispers over at the stove, seemingly having gotten over their earlier disagreement, Kyle standing behind Johnny, his arms wrapped around the werewolf’s hips, chin resting on his shoulder.

They looked like a couple.

You must’ve been staring too long, because John glanced over, letting out a hum at the sight. Johnny flipped the pieces of bacon, the plate of cooked pieces lying to the right. Simon glanced over as well, and you couldn’t tell whether he was jealous at the sight, or happy. Maybe both.

“We gonna show ‘er around the farm today, Cap?”

Another pet name. They seemed to have a lot of them around here. Simon was occasionally called ‘Lt.’, an abbreviation you hadn’t figured out yet. Kyle was ‘Gaz’. John was ‘Cap’ or ‘Price’. Johnny was ‘Soap’. You assumed they were just inside jokes.

John seemed to consider Simon’s question before nodding.

“Don’t see why not. Kyle can show her the chickens.”

You perked up at that. Simon noticed.

“You like chickens?”

He asked, his gruff tone holding a mild amount of curiosity. You gave a little nod. They might be a little bit stupid, but you liked all their feathers and their beaks. You’d had a few friends that were chicken hybrids, they’d been very social and been followers and not leaders, but you’d liked them.

Pack animals were usually the friendlier hybrids.

Johnny carried two plates in his thick hands, one full of sausage, the other full of eggs. Half of the eggs were fried, and the other half were scrambled.

Kyle came next with the bacon and toast plates. Some of the toast was buttered, some bare.

The plates were set out on the table, as well as fresh ones for everyone, silverware, and cups. They had their usual tea, Johnny preferring his morning coffee, you having a glass of water.

Everyone grabbed their food, Johnny and John getting a large serving of fried eggs, buttered toast, and sausage. Kyle got himself scrambled eggs, a helping of bacon, and buttered toast.

You and Simon were the last to get food, waiting for everyone else to get their food. Willing to take the scraps that were left. It was just something you did without thinking now, not wanting to look rude or selfish.

He made eye contact with you across the table, glancing down at the plates of food to gesture for you to get something. He was bigger. He’d need more food. You were human and hardly even up to his ribs, you could survive with the leftovers. You glanced down at the plates to gesture for him to go first.

Both of you recognized the strategy. Maybe you and him weren’t so different.

John shared a glance with Kyle, before Kyle elbowed Johnny, giving the werewolf a look. Johnny quickly began filling Simon’s plate up at the same time as Kyle, who started filling your plate up.

The next glance you and Simon shared was one of bewilderment as the food was piled on high.

“Never thought I’d meet a lass as stubborn as you, Lt.”

Johnny said with a loud chuckle, while Simon didn’t look amused, giving him the look only an angry wet cat could muster.

You looked at the bacon piled on your plate, picking up a piece and maintaining eye contact with Simon while nibbling on it, the wraith picked up a sausage, took a bite, and slowly chewed, staring dead at you, slowly blinking as you did it back.

“Like two kittens, they are.”

John muttered while Gaz let out a hum of agreement, chewing on some sausage.

They eventually moved on, laughing about a joke you didn’t understand, something about missions, and a lot of code words you didn’t even bother to decode. Maybe you’d figure it out the longer you stayed here. If you stay here long.

Everyone devoured their food, plates being deposited in the sink with silverware, Simon wiping the table off with his superior wingspan.

You lingered, not sure whether to help with dishes or not. John was on them.

Kyle took one look at you, before waving a hand for you to follow him out the door. You followed.

The air outside was crisp but also a bit cold. Winter was coming in. You wondered if they got snow around here, you hoped so.

His wings tucked in as he led you out of the crunchy grass and into the chicken coop, where his feathered friends were clucking and chirping away. There were a few little ones, but most were large and fluffy, different colors from white to black, some a brown like Kyle’s feathers, some had speckles of color and some had gradients.

He watched your eyes light up before you crouched down and picked up some seed from the ground, holding it out in your hand until a few of them approached. They were friendly; and well domesticated after years of providing eggs. You winced as their sharp beaks reached your skin, picking up the seeds through the process, but didn’t move to take your hand away.

Kyle smiled warmly in a way that almost made you sick, before moving into the actual coop area. He shifted the chickens that were warming their eggs up gently, picking up the eggs as quickly as he could to place them in the little basket he held. He managed to gather a total of 9 eggs, a good amount for the day.

When he emerged, you’d managed to get a chicken on your lap, now fully sitting on the ground despite the sawdust and droppings there. It was one of the older chickens, more docile than the rest, who’d decided to plop down on your lap. Her beady eyes blinked while you let gentle fingers smooth through her white speckles feathers.

“You like her?”

Kyle asked, glancing down at you.

You nodded.

“Fluffy.”

You stated, tone too matter-of-factly for him to keep a straight face as he laughed a bit, head tilting back.

“We’ve got some cows and goats if you want to see them?”

He offered, watching as you thought the offer over, gears turning in your mind. You gave a nod, giving the chicken one final pat until you gently picked her up, placing her back on the ground and getting up.

The sawdust and strands of hay clung to the backs of your thighs and shorts, but you didn’t seem to care. It we then that Kyle realized you hadn’t changed out of the clothes you’d been wearing yesterday. As he took a look at your matted hair, hay, and feathers also in it, he realized that they hadn’t done the greatest job of ensuring your hygiene.

But that was something to worry about after the cows and goats.

You followed eagerly as he walked to the barn. It was a good fifty feet from the coop, not too long, nothing you seemed to mind despite the chill in the air.

The chill.

You were tiny. Of course, he hadn’t noticed it, his feathers keeping him warm. But you were in shorts and that thin shirt and raggedy jacket couldn’t be doing much.

He didn’t want to push boundaries, but he didn’t feel like he had much of a choice.

You didn’t notice when he slowed down the pace of his walking, long strides shortening to keep up with your tiny ones. But you did notice when his wing slowly began to extend, feathers puffing out a bit and flattening, stretching out until the first feather brushed your shoulder.

It didn’t make you uncomfortable like most touches did. It might’ve been because instead of the skin-to-skin or fur-to-skin contact you usually had bad memories with, it was just fluffy, silky feathers.

The wing curled slowly around you, Kyle watching as you tensed at first, before relaxing into it.

You both reached the barn, hearing the goats bellowing as the smell of wet, soiled hay and animals reached you. Familiar. Too familiar.

You stopped.

Kyle’s wing immediately retracted, thinking it was him. He thought he’d overstepped boundaries and pushed too far too soon, but when he looked into your eyes he saw the look. One he’d seen before in one or two of their past fosters, some of the more “damaged” ones.

Something was reminding you of something unpleasant. He’d been there before. Whether it was the barn, the animal sounds, the smell, or anything else, he didn’t care, he would let you process it, and get away from it if you wanted.

A beat of silence.

When you took a hesitant step back, he went into action, trying to redirect your thoughts. His wing flexed to cover the sight of the barn from your eyes, your vision being that of golden brown feathers speckled with blond parts instead.

“How about we go inside and get cleaned up?”

He asked, voice smooth as butter, purposefully a bit deeper than normal, just barely, an instinctual thing that only worked to soothe other hybrids. But it seemed to work well enough on you, as you dazedly nodded, stumbling to follow him when he turned.

His wing slowly spread again, curling once again around your shoulder to guide you, steps slowly growing more certain as you two reached the house. Johnny was out digging in his garden, Simon was tending to the cows in the fields (cuddling with them), and John was taking stock of everything for the next grocery trip.

Kyle opened the door, letting you step in, watching as you almost tripped over the step, catching yourself, and continuing to walk.

“Careful,”

He murmured, walking up and carefully closing the door to not let it slam. The hinge had broken a few days ago. He really should remind Price to fix it.

His wing continued guiding you until you both reached a bathroom that was next to Price’s room. The one that the older man usually used. His talons clicked against the floor as he walked into the room, hands reaching for the tub’s knob to turn on the water before realizing he didn’t know what you wanted.

“Shower or bath?”

He asked. You pointed to the shower head. Fair enough.

“Alright,”

He replied.

“This is for the hot, this is for the cold, but the cold can be a bit finicky during the colder seasons, so you might have to turn a bit harder.”

He explained, watching as your eyes slowly took everything in. All of John’s beard care products were in the shower in one little shower rack that was in the corner. The second layer of the shower rack held shampoo and conditioner. The third held all the body wash components with a rag and sponge hanging from it.

“Here’s shampoo, conditioner, and the body wash. You got it?”

John was usually the one to give all the bathroom tours, considering he was the more fatherly figure in the household. But Kyle didn’t mind, it was just new, was all.

“You want me to wait outside?”

It was a basic assumption that you wouldn’t want him in the bathroom with you showering, but he didn’t want to leave you completely alone. What if you fell, or had some sort of accident? He could wait behind the door.

You nodded, watching as he stepped outside, closing the door. You turned the handles of the faucet, the colder one being a bit stiff like he’d mentioned. But after putting a good bit of muscle into it, the thing obeyed and turned, and you turned the hot water knob as well. They mixed into a good warm temperature that rained down from the shower head.

You quickly stripped out of your old clothes, covering your underwear and little bra with the other clothes. It wasn’t like someone would be digging through your things, but still.

Stepping into the shower, the hay and sawdust and everything that had been clinging to your skin and hair began melting away and falling off, meeting the drain and washing down if not just getting stuck there. You’d pull it out later.

You pulled the shower curtain out and used it to cover yourself, feeling just a bit too exposed without it, and you didn’t want to get water outside the tub, anyway.

You reached for the shampoo first, wanting to get the nightmare of a hair cleaning over with. Your hair was matted and knitted and hadn’t been brushed thoroughly in at least a week, but you’d at least try to wash it.

Clicking open the bottle, you squirted the thick product out, rubbing it together in your hands before moving the lathered-up product in your hands to your hair, rubbing it in, before letting it dissolve away under the water. The conditioner was next, being put in the rest of your hair, and you let it sit there as you used the liquid soap from the bottle and scrubbed it into your skin, washing it away.

The shower hadn’t felt long.

You washed the conditioner out, turned the water off, and grabbed a towel that Kyle must’ve put on the bathroom counter right before stepping out. You unfolded the towel, wrapping it around yourself, before opening the door.

Kyle was there, holding some clothes that had been in your bag.

“Here, I just grabbed the first ones I saw, I didn’t go through it.”

He reassured, probably having seen the way your face had soured slightly, before relaxing again. It still wasn’t the greatest knowing this man had been touching all your personal belongings, but you could get over it.

Stepping into the bathroom, you changed into the much warmer clothes he picked out. A pair of grey sweatpants, and a shirt that had thicker material. Hell, even the bra was one of your thicker ones.

When you were done, you opened the door again, and he made a little happy bird noise, almost like a chirping purr, at seeing you all bundled up and cozy. Johnny, whose hands were covered in dirt, claws out, had been walking past and heard the noise. He’d poked his head around the corner, grinning when he saw the scene.

“Mother hen!”

He called as he continued down the hall, hopefully, to wash himself off. Kyle rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it, particularly because he knew it was true.

He was a mother hen, but they had bigger issues to be handled.

Such as your hair.

“Do you want me to help with your hair? I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

You figured that nothing could make your mess of hair worse at this point, and nodded. Kyle preened at the confirmation, almost literally. Something warm and gooey, like the center of a freshly baked brownie, filled his eyes as he led you to his room, practically beaming.

You figured it must be the bird in him talking. Maybe helping with hair was considered grooming and preening to him? It made sense, now that you thought about it. It could be why he acted so weird when you pulled that pin feather out after just meeting him, he’d been surprised because he hadn’t considered you family yet, and it was a family activity.

When you both arrived at the door you assumed was into his room, he opened it, leading you inside, leaving the door just a little bit cracked open. His room was warm and smelt like lavender and jasmine.

He had a lot of pictures on the walls, some being obviously family photos, others being him in a military uniform with other men in uniform.

He led you over to a little chair in the middle of the room with a low back, having you sit in it, and he pulled out a detangling brush from a bag on the floor full of jars and brushes and razors that he used often. He pulled out a jar next, taking a scoop of the thick white cream and spreading it across his hands, before applying it on the outside of your hair, trying the best he could to get it all in there.

“My mom used to do my hair like this when I was little.”

He said, talking to you, but also somewhat to himself. You weren’t much of a talker, anyway. He knew that.

He began using the detangling brush, starting at the ends of your hair, immediately meeting resistance and melting right through it as he worked his magic with the brush and cream.

“I could never sit still, though, so she’d always have to talk to me or tell me a story while I sat down to keep me there long enough.”

Oh. So that was what he was doing.

His hands worked through your hair, applying more cream, rubbing it in, and brushing through the matted and tangled areas of the damp hair. Soon enough, he was in the middle of it. Then, he had reached your scalp. Then he was brushing out all of it.

He’d been rambling on about something the entire time. You hadn’t minded. You might not need the entertainment or distraction, but he was just doing what he’d seen his mother doing before.

“It was worse when she had to help me clean my wings, it was too ticklish at the time. Of course, I’ve gotten used to it now, and well—I guess I should clean them today, huh?”

That caught your attention.

You’d heard your hybrid friends mentioning preening and grooming their wings before, but never actually seen it. You swallowed, hoping to not be rejected, as you spoke.

“Can I help?”

His heart nearly melted in his chest at your tiny little voice, or it was at least tiny compared to what he was used to. He wouldn’t mind an extra hand in cleaning his wings, he usually had Price or Soap help, but the way they touched his wings was certainly not a way he wanted you touching them.

There was a joint bathroom connected to his room for this exact reason.

He closed the lid on the cream, placing it and the brush back into what you now thought was probably a makeup bag. You followed him into the bathroom, letting out an undignified squeak when he pulled his shirt off. Your hands covered your eyes, and he giggled for a moment.

“I’m just taking my shirt off, honey, you can open your eyes.”

You peeked out, still trying not to let your eyes wander to his now-exposed chest and torso. Hell, he had a bigger chest than you. His honey-brown skin was muscled despite how lean he was. You’d seen boy’s bare skin before, like when they would pull their shirts up to wipe the sweat off of their foreheads in gym class, but you’d never exactly enjoyed it.

His wing bases looked exactly how you thought they would under the shirt. Feathers spread over the base, fanning out slowly as it melded into his normal skin.

He got in the tub, turning around to have his wings face you as they untucked from his back and slowly relaxed. He pulled the shower head down, turning on the water but to a very low pressure so it wasn’t spraying everywhere, and offered it to you.

“Just spray down my wings, from the base, then the top, then the very bottom.”

He instructed. You took the shower head and tried as he said, starting at the base, where the feathers were reluctant to get wet, but eventually obeyed, then slowly moving to the top, watching as he shuddered slightly when the warm water trickled down to the bottom of his wings. The feathers looked almost black when they were wet, and his wings looked much skinnier now. Still pretty, just a lot less dramatic now.

After a few minutes of soaking the feathers, he nodded, hand reaching for the shower head to turn it off and put it back up.

“Good, now we can dry it off, then apply the oils.”

You didn’t really know what he was on about. You were just happy to know you’d done a good job.

“Grab the hairdryer out of the cabinet. It’s bright pink, and has a few doodles on it.”

You moved over to the cabinets under the sink, opening it, and shuffling around before finding a bright pink hairdryer just like promised. It had a few stains from past hair dye, which made you imagine the men in bright pink hair (an image you quickly tried to forget). There was a doodle of a little skull face and a rectangle with a few bubbles next to it.

You plugged it into the outlet next to the toilet, and turned it on low heat, not wanting to accidentally burn or hurt Kyle. You started with the top of his wings, figuring that it would be most efficient. Next, you made sweeping motions over the base of his wings, gradually moving to the bottom of the wings, the feathers puffing back up fluffier than ever before.

You watched as he gave a few test flaps, deciding that it was good enough, as he nodded once again. He was smiling again.

“Good, now I’ll help you with the oil part. You can put the hairdryer on the counter.”

You unplugged the hairdryer, setting it down on the pearly white counter, watching as Kyle got up and opened the secret cabinet that was behind the bathroom mirror. There were jars and medicines inside, and the harpy grabbed a jar saying something in a cursive font you couldn’t read.

“See,”

He began.

“Normally, a harpy has a gland that produces the oils for them, it keeps their feathers waterproof, clean, and healthy.”

You understood the basic concept he was explaining. He sat down on the edge of the tub, and you sat down on the carpet, ignoring the wet fuzz soaking into your knees.

“But mine is damaged, and doesn’t produce those oils, so I have to manually do it, which is very….annoying.”

You cocked your head to the side, wondering what had damaged his special gland so badly, but he didn’t answer your silent question. Instead, he opened the container, which had a sticky, thin brown fluid in it. It almost looked like a thinner, stickier version of Vegemite.

He dipped two fingers in, rubbing it over both hands.

“I’ll show you how to do it first.”

He said, as his hands began fluffing up and rubbing the feathers nearest to the base of his wings first, rubbing the thin substance in, patting it to ensure it wasn’t still sticky, before moving on to the next round of feathers. You thought you understood the basics of it.

Dipping a finger into the strange thing, you also rubbed it on your hands, tentatively rubbing and fluffing it into the bottom feathers of his wings like you’d seen him doing. He let out a hum of approval, and you continued, slowly getting more confident.

A few minutes of silence passed, all of his feathers being oiled appropriately until your hand moved to his inner wing, and this time he was the one to let out a squeak.

You pulled your hand away almost immediately, and he turned a shade of bright red in the cheeks.

“Don’t touch there, that’s really sensitive.”

He said, trying to wave it off with a grin and a little awkward laugh. You raised a single brow.

“Johnny touched you there.”

A single statement, but one that was correct. Johnny had his hands all up in Kyle’s inner wings this morning when they’d been making breakfast together. You had noticed.

Kyle turned a brighter shade of red. He didn’t seem to know what to say.

“It’s…different, for different pack members—“

“Dinner!”

“Yup. Yeah. Dinner time, let’s go, kiddo.”

He led you out of the room, newly washed and oiled feathers puffed up in what you assumed was mild embarrassment. You didn’t know why he wasn’t explaining it to you, considering you were just going to look it up later.

John raised an eyebrow at Kyle’s behavior, watching as he sat down while fidgeting, staring into his plate. Simon and Johnny both took one look at Kyle’s fresh wings, then at you and guessed what happened. A smirk pulled at Simon’s lips. Johnny snorted. Kyle had forgotten to put his shirt back on.

Dinner passed quickly. It was the leftovers of the pot roast. They were tired from whatever work they’d done today but still lively. You watched.

When it was over, you slid your plate into the sink, not sure what activity was coming next.

“Bedtime for you, cub.”

John rumbled, leading you back to your room, listening to Kyle accuse Johnny or Simon of stealing his shirt, not able to find it after taking it off in the bathroom while they both insisted he’d lost it.

You crawled into your bed, with clean hair, a clean body, and mildly clean clothes. John took the blanket and tucked you in, even as you lay down in a strange position.

“Sleep good, and sneak me that shirt in the mornin’, I’ll tell Kyle I found it in the bin.”

He said, smiling with a wink, giving you an Eskimo kiss while his beard tickles your face. You found that strangely, you didn’t mind the closeness. You smiled back at him, returning the wink, pulling out Kyle’s missing shirt that was bundled under your shirt, and bunching it up.

You held it against your chest, curling up around it and the familiar scent of honey and apple pie that it held. The scent of Kyle.

No, you didn’t usually sleep well in new places, but as the light turned off and John closed the door behind him, you found that you couldn’t help but drift into a surprisingly peaceful sleep.

Tags:

@theartgremlin

@thriving-n-jiving

@simonrileysown

[daisy-milk]

MAROONED.pdf

➠ office_crush!Han x reader

➠ wc: 3.7k

➠ summary: your workplace becomes target to an unfortunate hostage situation. fortunately the assaliants don't seem violent, however unfortunately, you get shoved into a trunk with your office crush.

➠ warnings: smut, fingering, overstimulation, piv, mentions of a hostage situation, bondage

➠ masterlist

➠ a/n: had this for a while haha

“mmmff!!” 

you tried to at least sound assertive, but it was a bit hard with duct tape sealing your lips shut. however, that didn’t stop you from spewing muffled curses at the man who was currently dragging you to his car. you couldn’t do much but flail your zip-tie bound hands and growl unknown obscenities through your closed mouth, but somehow it seemed to have kept your assailant nervous. or maybe he was just like that from the start. 

“i-i’m sorry ma’am,” the masked person stuttered quietly. 

poor kid, you thought. he couldn’t have been older than 19 and it didn’t seem like he wanted to even be here, “w-watch your head…” the kid’s hand gently pushed your head down to try and shove you into the trunk of a small black sedan, but you resisted, easily shoving out of his grasp. you gave the assailant an incredulous look and his shoulders visibly slumped. suddenly, the kid’s eyes widened from under his mask and before you could even tilt your head in question, you felt large hands snatch your body, nearly folding you in half to shove into the trunk. you didn’t have any time to even react before another body was forced into the trunk with you. 

“you can’t do one simple thing, idiot?” you heard a new voice from outside the trunk. you couldn’t see who it was who threw you into the car, but you did hear a loud slap from where the two criminals stood, “get in the damn car and meet me at the location. and you better not fuck up again, hear me?”

the trunk was cramped, various tools and suspiciously full duffel bags crammed into your back and not to mention the body of another unfortunate hostage that was just shoved in blocking your view of your kidnappers. you writhed a bit, trying to shimmy over the person, but to no avail when the hood of the trunk was slammed shut leaving you in pitch darkness. 

you rolled your eyes and slumped back. there was a small sliver of light that peeked through the thin opening of the trunk, but the dim light was enough to finally realize who you were taken with. han jisung. to be trapped with anyone and it just so happened to be your work crush. the two of you had a little back and forth thing going on, one of you saying something mildly flirty and the other might respond with the same energy, but neither of you doubled down. it always ended how it started except for the fact that you both left with bright red blushes burning onto your cheeks. pretty juvenile for a pair of grown adults, many would say, but he was the reason you’d be excited to actually go to work. hell, today you even “unintentionally” brought that candy he had mentioned once, but it also just had to happen that your workplace becomes the target of a now hostage situation.

you glanced over at him and he was already looking at you. neither of you had much fear or anxiety written on your faces, despite the situation, but there weren’t any signs of a weapon on the robbers and they didn’t seem the type to kill anyone. you were just hostages. clearly, it was quiet between the two of you with the duct tape over your lips, but the sound of the engine starting had immediately alerted the two of you. you let out a loud sigh through the tape as you felt the car start to move. 

the both of you endured the drive. it seemed to be a getaway chase by the way the car was recklessly steering, throwing your bodies around with every bump and turn. one bump and you flipped onto your other side. another turn and you heard a loud thump followed by a groan, Han must have hit his head. a third and fourth and the two of you are flying every which way inside the crowded trunk space. the fifth time came around and you felt the car halt to a harsh stop. the momentum sent your body flying forward, groaning as you slammed against the wall of the trunk. not only you were affected of course, but Han’s body followed suit, his front being smashed into your back. it seemed that after the car had slammed on the brakes, the police had finally caught up. blaring sirens were heard from outside the vehicle and the loudspeaker from the cop car spoke, 

“PULL YOUR VEHICLE OVER IMMEDIATELY. YOU ARE UNDER ARREST,” you let out a breath of relief, but the second you did you realized how close Han was as you were able to feel his breath as well, pressed up tightly behind you. you couldn’t move away either, “STEP OUT OF THE VEHICLE WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR.”

moments passed and you vaguely heard the commotions of the arrest being made. though, you couldn’t focus on much that was going on outside due to your mind racing. how could you focus when you felt Han’s toned chest rising shallowly up and down against your back. the warmth from his body radiating through that thin button up shirt he always wore that may be a size too small. you always noticed that. if you were a normal person you could tell him that he might have outgrown his shirt when he started working out, his pecs giving the buttons that kept his shirt together a run for their money. but you never said a thing, drooling over the way the seams would fight for their life every time he would stretch at his desk. he was so close. your bare legs brushed against his slacks and your imagination ran wild. you tried to shuffle in your restraints, there was a dampness to your panties that you realized made you quite uncomfortable and awkward, especially with the man causing it right behind you. unfortunately for you, instead of successfully concealing anything, your pencil skirt began to scrunch up at the waist. right. it comes back to you, the fact that you chose to wear your shortest office skirt today to impress Han now biting you in the ass. you curse to yourself as your choice in outfit now backfires on you, and you were certain, with how close he was pressed up against you, that you were now staining his formerly clean trousers with your shameful arousal. at least you were lucky he couldn’t see the intense blush making your face grow redder than a tomato. for a moment, you had forgotten that your mouth was taped shut as you attempted to offer a quick ‘sorry’ for your tragic situation, but all that came out was a muffle. a muffle that sounded too close to a moan. and to think you didn’t think it could get worse. here you are, struggling against his frontside, dripping wet, and moaning with no way of explaining yourself. to say you were embarrassed couldn’t begin to describe how you felt. maybe you could use this whole hostage situation as an excuse to quit and move far, far away because there was no way you could face him ever again after this. speaking of the hostage situation, it had been way too long for the police to be making this arrest. was there more than just that one teen that was driving? you swear you heard several cops too… what could possibly be taking so long? snapping out of your moment, you tried to listen for anything outside the vehicle. nothing. had they not realized that you two were in the trunk? you listened in again. dead silence. just the sounds of cars driving by. 

‘theres no way,’ you thought, ‘did they seriously leave us here..?’

you tried to turn around, but as you moved it was Han’s turn to let out a loud groan. your eyes widened, worried that you might have unintentionally hurt him, you instinctively shuffled again to check up on him to no avail. however, this time you moved, he let out more of a whine. following that, his head dropped into the crevice of your neck and you could feel the beads of sweat that decorated his forehead. it soaked into your hair. you could smell him now. you could feel his heavy breaths through his nose on your skin. the whine, the groan as well, they weren’t noises in response to pain. you felt it now that he’s shuffling in discomfort. you felt him, rock hard, hidden behind the fabric of his pants. he was just as affected as you. yet again, forgetting you couldn’t move, you squirmed again, this time your back arching a little more to test the waters. your hypothesis had been right as his head that was buried in your neck now craned backwards, hips lightly meeting yours as he let out another muffled groan. 

maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that the cops had forgotten about you. 

spurred on by your hornyness and newfound confidence, you started to grind against him. his head that he threw back now shot back into where it was tucked into the place where your neck and shoulder met, and if his lips weren’t taped, you might have felt his soft lips press against your skin. his warm breath tickled your skin as you continued to move against his body, his hips now mirroring your actions. as you both desperately grinded against each other, you felt and heard his breaths grow more erratic. you could tell he wanted more the way his hips began to thrust at your backside as if he was in you. and how badly you wanted him to be. as time went on, he only grew more greedy and impatient with the way he humped against you. there was a dull thump every time his hips met yours causing you to let out an almost too dramatic whine. you weren’t quite sure what happened, but in that moment you heard a snap from behind you. somehow Han had managed to break the zip-ties that held his hands together and you knew that the way his hands immediately flew to your hips. next came the sound of him ripping the tape from his mouth. it almost sounded painful, but you didn’t have much time to dwell on that fact as you heard his deep voice purr against your ear, 

“you… dirty little thing,” his hands squeezed the flesh of your hips as he pressed his crotch sharply against your butt, “we were taken hostage and you still have it in you to tease me like a slut?” the lange hands that help you started scrunching up the material of your skirt even further, practically making it a belt as it rested around you waist, “look at you… should have known when you came to work in this tiny little thing,” and you were happy that he noticed, “if we hadn’t been taken, maybe i would have had my way with you in the storage closed. god knows how long i’ve wanted to.” he sucks in a breath against the shell of your ear, “sucks that this is how it finally happens, but i’m not complaining. gotta admit it's awfully cute seeing you all tied up like this. was thinking about being a gentleman and helping you out of these, but i think i really like seeing you struggle,” he murmurs, playing with the zip-ties on you. 

his hands wrap around your torso to hold you close, and for a moment, he pauses, “gotta know if you really want this though…,” you couldn’t see him, but you could hear the sincerity in his words, “if you want to keep going nod, but if you want me to stop kick me… or something. we can pretend this never happened if that's the case.”

you barely gave him the time to finish speaking and you were frantically nodding your head, whining desperately at the same time. he chuckled, “i figured. just had to ask, but with how wet you are,” he reaches down to feel your soaking panties, he groans, “i could have easily assumed. felt it through my pants ya know?”

you let out an embarrassed whine, squirming a little in his hold, “aw, don’t be shy. do you not feel how hard you make me? heh, i got pretty embarrassed too. couldn’t help it though… the way your cute little butt felt against me, i was losing my mind. i always lose my mind around you if i’m being honest…" Han didn’t give you much time to process what he just said as his slender fingers peeled the fabric of your panties to the side and plunged two digits into your sopping hole. you moaned out loudly through your nose. you arched against him as han continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, and you could feel the dull ache due to your hands being tied, but the pleasure from han’s fingers made you forget any other sensation. 

“you like that?” he practically moaned into your ear. his hips moved in synchronization with his fingers, every time his rock hard bulge pressed into you, he shoved his fingers deep into you. maybe he was possibly more desperate than you based on the way it seemed he was nearly cumming in his pants just by fingering you. because he was the only one not restrained by tape over his mouth, his throaty whines were loud and clear. and of course he was reaching places deeper in your hole that you have never discovered before, you should have known from all the times you have stared at his long fingers at work, imagining them inside you the way they are now. juices gushed down not just his fingers, but his hand as he sped up his ministrations. the warm, musky smell of it now suffocating the both of you.

“god i want to taste you so bad. eat out all of that cream you’re soaking my hand with,” you moan in response, “always wondered how good you taste. i’ll save it for next time. maybe in the breakroom? eat you instead of that gnarly cafeteria food?”

the thin layer of moisture that coated your skin was not forming little beads of sweat as it began to drip down you. your body jerked against him and he could tell you were getting close. his fingers curled and you let out an impossibly high pitched sound. 

“almost there baby?” he urged. he was now slightly propped up on his elbow as he dug somehow deeper into you. you could see his shoulder flex as he pumped brutally into you. your head craned back into his chest as more sounds released from you, “yeah? yeah? c’mon little thing, wanna see you drench me.” that was about all it took, his filthy yet delicious words, and you jolted. you came almost silently, you couldn’t even warn him as you pulsed around his hand. he held you body tightly to him as you jerked through your orgasm, “mmm there it is… yeah. fuck- god y-you’re so tight…” you sucked in a gasp as he worked you through your release, his fingers now overstimulating you and there was no way of telling him to slow down. you whine, as a way of telling him it was becoming too much, but he didn’t relent.

“is to too much baby? mmh one more please? we got time,” han coaxed in your ear, “one more and i’ll fuck you. please, please baby? wanna feel that little pussy clench one more time around my fingers.”

it wasn’t as if you had much of a choice anyways, but the way his words cooed into your ear and his undeniable skill, you weren’t really complaining much. you melted into him, trying your best to let him have his way with you. you couldn’t help the little jolts from overstimulation every now and then, but han was too blind with lust to even acknowledge it. he simply held you tight and continued to fuck you with his fingers. the way he moaned into your hair was as if he could feel what you were feeling himself. 

“f-fuck… c’mon baby, give it to me before i cream my pants… mmm please…” he was begging you now. his voice drenched in lust and desperation. if you weren’t close already, the way he twisted his hand and pressed against your mound added just the right amount of pressure to clit, to make you see white once again. 

“yes… oh yes baby give it to me,” he let out. your combined breath was shaky as he retracted his hand to lick his fingers clean. once again he moaned loudly as if he just orgasmed just by tasting you, “just as delicious as i imagined,” he chuckled, pulling you close to him and turning you over on your side to face him, “i’ll try not to be greedy and ask for another one.” he smiles at you, his little heart shaped grin melting your heart. to emphasize his statement, he gives you a little tease by pinching your clit, making you jump. your eyes squeeze shut, “heh… sorry, you’re just… so cute.” the last words coming out breathy, “god i just have to-”

with that he begins to peel off the tape covering your lips. it should have been more painful, but it could matter less with the way you were yearning for his mouth. it seemed as if he felt the same way with the way your lips smashed together after not even a moment to breathe. han’s tongue shoved into your throat as he devoured you, hands idly crawling up your body to hold you jaw, large thumbs resting on your cheeks as he maneuvered your head to match his kisses. you wanted to mirror him but you were still restrained behind your back. han looked down at where your hands were struggling and pulled away from the kiss. 

“oh.. heh,” he chuckled, “i uhm… don’t have scissors or anything. guess you gotta stay like that it seems.” 

“oh for sure, han,” you spoke your first words to him since being trapped in this car, “is that how you got out of yours too?” you questioned, incredulously. 

“guess he didn’t tie me well,” he grinned, clearly lying between his teeth. 

there was no response. instead, han pulled you back into him as he lifted your leg to wrap over his waist. all you could do was watch and lick your lips as he unzipped his fly. you wanted to be the one to free his hard cock, finally feel it for yourself, but yet again you were reminded about the stupid zip-ties holding you back. perhaps you’ll get him back for this someday. 

barely pulling his pants down, han finally pulled his cock out. his hands pulled your face again and once more continued to make out with you. your tongues fought hard against each other inside your warm mouths, and without warning you felt han line himself up with your hole. you felt him start to slowly inch in as he pressed his lips on you harder, as if to try to distract you. it felt as if he was never ending as he slowly slid in, already hitting your limit when you look down to see he’s only halfway in. he scoffs, “you can fit the rest in right?” han teases. you both knew you were going to. it was how long he would give you to adjust. you knew he was an impatient man though, so it was no surprise when he pushed the remainder of him a little too quickly. you felt filled to the brim, moaning out a stifled, slightly pained sound.

“alright baby? sorry… i couldn’t wait… had to be inside you,” his stilled, letting you adjust as his hands petting the back of your head as if to sooth you. his lips found your neck and began to bite and suck in the meanwhile, “you’ve been so good to me, baby. take your time, lemme know when you’re ready, yeah?” 

after only a few moments you felt ready. or at least that was what you convinced yourself, growing too impatient as well, the need for him growing too strong. 

“please move,” you sighed into the top of his head as he buried himself into creating dark hickeys across your neck. he smiled at you again. you could never get enough of his little grin. such a sweet smile he had, you couldn’t imagine it was worn by the same man who now started to pound your brains out in the back of a musty sedan after a botched hostage situation. 

han was all over you, his hands and lips roaming all over your body as he fucked you, and you would have reciprocated if you could, but you simple took it, everything he poured out to you through his actions. at this point you were drenched in each other’s sweat, the heat from the tiny space now catching up with you, but you could care less. you couldn’t care less in the same way you began to hear sounds right outside the car in the back of your mind. neither of you paid much attention to it, simply too caught up in each other to hear the loud clank and jolt of the car. han’s moans blocked out all the sounds from the outside world as his hips non-stop thrusted against you. you could deal with whatever was happening outside after you both came. 

“close, han” you mewled

“me too… come with me?” it was almost too easy for you to let go, already far gone from han’s prep barely an hour ago. the two of you hit your highs simultaneously. but in that moment, you felt the vehicle you were in tip upwards. right as han’s load shot into you, the both of you began to slide all the way to the back of the trunk. you landed on him, bodies smushed against each other from the momentum, but at least you both managed to come before it happened. it took you a moment, but you both regained your breathing and returned to normal. you looked at each other, your pupils dilated as you stared into him. 

“did they just…” he blinked, “tow the car with us in it?”

[azrielslittleslut]

"The Lost Queen" - Chapter 12

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: A magical incident causes Azriel to unexpectedly tumble through a portal into modern-day Earth. Confused and injured, he is discovered by a compassionate human woman with a hidden past. She takes care of him and helps him discover the complexities of the modern world, completely unaware of who she truly is. Meanwhile, Azriel struggles with his conflicting desires: his duty to the Night Court and his growing love for the woman who saved him.

Their journey unfolds amidst ancient prophecies and the looming threat in Prythian. As they uncover the truth about forces conspiring against them, they must confront their deepest fears and make choices that will change their lives and the world forever.

Warnings: language, fluff, slight suggestiveness, violence, death (not mc), blood

Word Count: 6.2k

series masterlist

a/n: azriel in a flower crown... that's it. that's the post.

Enjoy!

You didn’t know what to expect flying would be like. You had been on one of those rides at the state fair, the one that had you strapped into a harness, suspending you in midair by a single cable. The moment you pulled the latch, you’d plummet toward the ground, only to be swung skyward by that taut line. You’d also been on a plane before, so you wondered if flying with Azriel might feel similar- smooth, graceful, perhaps even calming.  

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

Your squeal ripped through the night air as Azriel dipped low, his wings spread wide to catch with wind, the sudden drop making your stomach flip. The sensation wasn’t like anything you’d imagined- it was wild, exhilarating, and completely untamed. You could feel the sharp bite of the wind against your cheeks, your heart pounding in your chest as the ground rushed closer, only for Azriel to rise again. He held you tightly against him, and you could feel the warmth of his body radiating through the coat you had donned earlier.

Azriel caught an updraft, his wings carrying the two of you high above the city. Below, you could see the lights of Velaris shimmering, the river winding through the city, reflecting the soft glow of lanterns. You could barely make out the couples strolling, the faint hum of laughter and conversation. You could even hear the distant strains of music floating up, weaving through the air like a gentle lullaby.

The stars above sparkled like diamonds among the inky black sky, more brilliant than any you had ever seen.  

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” you admitted to Azriel, your eyes wide as you took it all in. “The stars are so… bright.”

Azriel chuckled, his wings flapping to keep the two of you steady. “Well, it is the Night Court. The stars are kind of our signature.” His tone was light, but there was a soft reverence in it, a quiet pride for the place he called home.

You craned your neck up to look at him, completely captivated by the sight of Azriel in his element. His shadows were still swarming his body and wings, seemingly content to enjoy a flight with their master. His face was softer than you’d ever seen it, open and at ease- so different from the stoic, unreadable mask he usually wore. The stars reflected in his hazel eyes, and a gentle smile tugged at his lips as he gazed down at his city.

Back in your world, Azriel had stood out like a sore thumb. You had thought that it was because of his size, as massive as he is, but it was more than that. It was simply that he truly didn’t belong there. He belonged here, in this beautiful place full of darkness and shadows and stars.

Mama Laveau had said that you weren’t born in your world, and now that you were here, you felt a calling, as if the very core of your existence belonged here. The wind, the stars, the soft hum of magic in the air- it all felt strangely familiar, like you were finding pieces of yourself you hadn’t even realized were missing.

 Was this the world you belonged in? Was Prythian your home?

“I can see why you missed this.” Your voice was so quiet you worried that it was drowned out by the wind.

Az pulled you closer, his strong arms tightening around you like iron. “Do you trust me?” he asked, his deep voice low. It sent a skitter of excitement down your spine, causing goosebumps to break out on your skin.

“Infinitely,” you replied.

You immediately regretted your words. Azriel, with a mischievous smile on his face, wrapped his wings around you, the wings he was supposed to use for flying, and the two of you plummeted toward the ground.

“Azzy!” you screamed as the wind whipped around you, but most of it was blocked by his wings. “I swear to God if you drop me-“ But your threat was cut off by the wild excitement surging through your veins.

Even as you could see the ground get closer and closer, you couldn’t deny the thrill of it. Deep down, you could feel the call of the wind and the sky. You remembered that fleeting feeling of freedom, as those wings had ripped from your back at your parents’ house. You recalled the dreams, the ones in which you were flying across a snowy mountain range, the voices of the people below chanting.

Rise up, rise up, rise up.

You gasped as Azriel snapped his wings wide, holding you close as you glided over the tops of the buildings below. You clung to him as he landed on the cobblestones, his feet so light that you barely felt the impact of his landing.

“I told you I wouldn’t drop you, love,” he murmured, his arms still tight around you.

“Well, you didn’t have to scare the shit out of me,” you grumbled as he set you down on your feet, his hands on your shoulders to keep you steady. “Do you think- do you think I will be able to fly? Since I have wings?”

Azriel’s eyes were wide as he glanced at your back, noting the current lack of wings. “If you can summon them again, I don’t see why not.” He ran a hand through his black hair, pushing the soft curls off his forehead. “You would have to learn, of course.”

You nodded in defeat, your shoulders sagging. “Yeah, you’re right. Maybe we should focus on Operation Defeat Evil Queen first.” You turned around, trying to keep Az from seeing the sadness on your face, but a warm hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“If you want to learn how to fly,” he said, “I can teach you. It would be my… honor to teach you.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed on your face. “Thank you for the offer, Azzy,” you said, turning back around to face him. “If all of this… madness is dealt with, you can teach me.”

Azriel pulled you in close, his lips pressed to your hair. “Not if, love. When.”

You breathed in his scent, letting it calm your nerves. He was right, of course. Being negative about the current situation wouldn’t help anything.

“So,” you said, stepping back and turning around to look at the city. “This is Velaris. The one from Serena’s painting.”

Looking at the city now, you could see why Azriel was so shocked at the painting. It was almost like Serena came here, took a picture of it, and went back and painted it exactly like the photo. You could see the same buildings made from white marble, sandstone, and red stone. You could see and smell the river, flowing through the heart of the city like liquid sapphires.

Azriel grasped your hand in his, his scars rough against your skin. You made a mental note to ask him again what on Earth had caused such damage to his flesh. “This is Velaris,” he agreed. “Also called the City of Starlight.”

The name from Serena’s painting. “When we were at Café du Monde, you said that Rhys had sacrificed a lot to keep this place safe.” The sound of laughter and children playing innocently in the streets echoed along the walls of the buildings. “What did you mean?”

A muscle ticked in Azriel’s jaw, and his eyes darkened with anger. “Do you remember at breakfast, when Rhys and Feyre were talking about the female?” He seemed unable to say her name.

You nodded, your feet moving as Az started to pull you gently down the street. “Yes. Amarantha.”

Azriel flinched. Whoever that female was… she must have done some horrible things. “She once considered herself the High Queen of Prythian. Five hundred years ago, there was a war between humans and faeries. At the time, they lived together, but some of the faeries, particularly some of the High Lords, kept human slaves. She was a General on the enemy side, the one in favor of slaves.”

The blood rushed from your face. You didn’t want to think of what it was like for the humans who were enslaved to beings as powerful as the Fae. “Did you fight in the war?” you asked, your voice small.

Az nodded once. “Not on the battlefields like Rhys and Cassian, but I had my own part to play.” His voice was dark, and you could tell he would speak no further on what he did during the war. “The war ended when a treaty was made between the mortal and faeries. It was so bloody on both sides that everyone agreed to sign it to end it all. After it was signed, Amarantha killed her own slaves instead of freeing them.”

You shivered as his words washed over you. “That’s… horrible.” Perhaps horrible was not a good enough word, but there were not any words to describe how awful that was.

Azriel continued on, lost in the story as the two of you walked, “One hundred years ago, she returned here as an emissary to Hybern, a country west of here. She managed to charm the High Lords with trade talks, but her real goal was to take Prythian as her own.” His expression darkened further, his gaze going near vacant as he recalled the past. “A little over fifty years ago, she threw a party, and all of the High Lords were in attendance. Rhys was there alone, so he had no choice but to bow to her when she took all of their powers as hers.”

You weren’t particularly fond of Rhys, but you couldn’t imagine what that must have been like for him. You had sensed the power radiating off him. This Amarantha must have been a real force to deal with if she was able to steal power like that. “What did he do then?”

Azriel ground his teeth, rage glittering in his eyes. “He made sure she didn’t know about this city,” was all he said.

Biting your lip, you looked down at the ground. “Was she the queen Nesta mentioned?” you asked, recalling the conversation at breakfast.

Surprisingly, Azriel huffed a laugh. “No,” he said. “That was a different one.”

Damn. What’s up with this place and evil queens?

You took a deep breath to calm your frazzled nerves. “What happened to her? Amarantha?”

“She was killed.” Az’s voice was as hard as stone buildings around.

So, she wasn’t the queen that Elain had mentioned. “Nesta said that a lot has happened in the last few years. Is that all of it?” You glanced up at him, noting how the wind had moved the hair away from his face. The lights from the city softened the hard angles of his face, and you had to fight the urge to run a finger along his jaw, his cheekbone.

“Part of it,” he said, meeting your gaze. Some of the light had come back into his eyes, and a small smile graced his full lips. “Are you sure you want to hear the rest of the story? I don’t want to ruin the mood.”

You stepped closer to him, happy to feel his body against yours. “I think I need to know these things, Azzy,” you said with a smile. “You know, since I live here now.”

You listened as Azriel talked, loving the sound of his deep voice. He spoke of Hybern and the Cauldron, pausing momentarily to explain how the Cauldron controls the life and fates of the people here. He talked about the battles, the wins and losses, his rescue of Elain, and the death of the King of Hybern. His voice dropped as he talked about Rhys sacrificing himself to restore the Cauldron, only to be brought back to life by the other High Lords. He explained how although the war was over, there were still remnants of it. People were still healing and grieving, while some were unhappy that it happened in the first place.

Once Azriel finished with the story, you were silent, content to listen to the sound of the river running close by. This world has truly been through a lot in the last few years. People had died, and Az and his family had been in the middle of it. Now, there was another evil force at work, and your heart broke at the thought of them being plunged into another conflict.

“Do you think there will be another war?” you asked once you had regained control of your thoughts. “With everything going on, it seems kind of inevitable.”

Azriel sighed, his wings drooping slightly. “I sure fucking hope not,” he groaned, his eyes on the city around him. “We will do whatever it takes to avoid another one.”

The two of you were silent after that, content to walk through Velaris. The night was chilly, but it seemed warmer here in the heart of the city. Children laughed as they chased each other, while families were gathered around the various shops lining the street.

There were bookstores, flower shops, and art galleries. You even spotted shops full of different weapons. Through the windows, you could see swords and knives, daggers and maces. Did Azriel know how to use any of those?

You remembered him asking if a dagger had fallen with him through the portal, and he had been visibly upset when you had told him it hadn’t. He didn’t know this, but you had even gone back to the bayou as he had slept that night, pulling back the weeds, searching through the water for it. With no luck, you had wandered back inside, your mind forgetting about it until now.

But Azriel still wore the sheath at his thigh, no doubt the home to his lost dagger, as if he expected it to suddenly return to him.

You smiled faintly as you listened to the music from earlier- louder now- and you could see a street performer playing a fiddle, the sharp notes floating through the air.

The moment was serene, so unlike the pace of the last few days. You hated to be the one to ruin it, but you still needed more answers.

“Azzy,” you murmured, turning your body to face him fully. “You still owe me an explanation.”

Azriel’s lips pursed, his attention pulled away from the laughing children as he looked at you. “I know,” he responded. “I’m assuming you’re talking about Serena seeing you in her dreams.”

You crossed your arms and nodded, waiting patiently for his explanation.

“I cannot express to you how sorry I am for that.” He took a step forward, gently cupping your face in his callused palms. “The only reason I can give you is that I was afraid to tell you.”

“Afraid of what?”

Az closed his eyes, and you saw the dark circles under them, a sign that he hadn’t been resting like he should. “Afraid of my feelings for you. I told you, at the ball, that when I’m with you I want to forget what I am, where I come from. I saw how simple your life was, and I envied it. But I also didn’t want to ruin that for you by telling you about the dreams and visions. I wanted to protect you. You see what is happening here, and I didn’t want to pull you in the middle of this. It was a bad call on my part, and a selfish one. I pray to the Mother that you can find it in your heart to forgive me for my stupidity, Y/N.”

As Azriel opened his eyes, you saw the sadness and guilt there. He truly was sorry. You tried to think if the roles had been reversed. Would you have hid the truth from him? Would you have done whatever possible to keep him safe and happy?

Yes, you decided. You would have done the same.

“Azriel,” you murmured, reaching your hand up to run a finger across his cheek. His skin was so soft. “I do forgive you. I forgave you the moment I saw you trying to protect me at my parents’ house. But you should know that I was afraid of my feelings for you, too. I was afraid of what I would face when you left, especially once I learned that something dark was happening here.” You paused for a moment, your eyes scanning his, hoping he could see the sincerity of your words through your expression. "We don’t have to be afraid anymore. We’re here now. Together. That’s all I care about.”

Azriel let out a breath, his body trembling as he pulled you against him. His lips met yours, and this kiss was nothing like earlier at the River House. This kiss was like the one at the ball, full of passion and tongue and teeth.

You leaned into him, groaning into his mouth as his tongue flicked against your bottom lip. The world went topsy-turvy as his tongue slid against yours, his hands running up and down your body, gripping your waist, gently cupping your breasts. You didn’t care that you were in the middle of the street in a crowded city. Your mind couldn’t focus on the fact that children were around, no doubt watching this unfold before their innocent eyes.

There was a feeling in your chest, a strange one, pulling you to him, filling your senses with Azriel and only Azriel. The strange sensation was enough to bring you back to reality. Slowly, you pulled away, slightly breathless as you said, “I need you to promise me something, Azzy.”

Azriel’s lips were red and swollen, his cheeks flushed. He looked so heartbreakingly beautiful like this. “Anything.” His voice was husky with desire as he spoke, sending a fresh wave of heat to your core.

Damn. This male has one hell of a bedroom voice.

“No more secrets between us,” you said, willing your desire-filled mind to clear. “If we want this to work, you have to tell me everything.”

Azriel smiled softly, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your back. “Deal,” he said. “No more secrets.”

You smiled triumphantly, reaching up a hand to push a curl of hair off his brow. “Good. Since that is settled, can we enjoy our evening now?”

Azriel took you by the hand, pulling you once again down the lively street. “Nothing would make me happier.”

You turned your attention back to Velaris, a smile forming on your face as you watched the scene before you. More musicians had joined the lone street performer. Some of them had flutes and lyres, while others had drums and tambourines. You saw a young male strumming a harp, and a female playing an accordion. They were playing an upbeat melody, the sound warm and vibrant. It reminded you of the Cajun parties back home.

Your body started moving of its own accord, and you took a step forward to dance, but you stopped as a group of children raced by. They were dancing in a circle and laughing, their tiny hands holding flowers and vines. As they danced to the beat, they would pass the flowers down, reminiscent of an assembly line.

“What are they doing?” you asked Azriel, giggling as you watched the children play and dance.

Azriel’s breath was hot against your neck as he spoke. “Making flower crowns,” he murmured, his lips close enough that you could hear him over the music. “The children here have done it for centuries. They weave the crown, and once it’s done, the oldest child in the circle will give it to a young, beautiful maiden. The young maiden will then place it on the head of her lover, a sign that no matter what happens, their love will overcome even the worst of trials.”

You smiled at the innocence of it. “What if the young maiden doesn’t have a lover? How does the child know?”

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest. You leaned your head against him, content to watch as the children continued weaving and dancing. “Here in Prythian, children are special. A gift from the Mother herself.” You felt him place his chin on the top of your head. “Perhaps they can hear things from her that we can’t.”

You turned your head to ask him what things the children could sense, but the crescendo of the music stopped you. The circle of children broke apart, all of them forming a line at the center of the street. A small child on the far left of the line stepped forward. He was young, wearing simple brown trousers and a white tunic. He had pale brown hair, and you could see the tiny points of his ears as he turned his head. In his hands, he held a flower crown, made of red roses, lilies, and daisies, all weaved together by dark green vines. The crown shimmered slightly, reminding you of the glimmering stars above.

The boy walked to a taller young female at the center of the line. She was wearing a plain red dress, and her dark red hair was pulled back into a simple braid. He silently presented the crown to her, and she nodded her head once in thanks as she took the crown in her small hands.

The young female raised her head, her emerald green eyes scanning the crowd of onlookers. You looked as well, searching for who the young girl would choose as the maiden for tonight’s festivities.

Azriel’s arms tightened around you in a way that slightly frightened you. Looking back at him, you asked, “What is it? Is something wrong?”

But his face was soft, despite the iron grip he had on your body. “Look,” he murmured, nodding his head to the center of the street.

You looked, a gasp escaping your lips as you saw the young female standing directly in front of you. This close, you could see the light dusting of freckles on her pale skin, as well as the dimples on her cheeks as she smiled at you. “This is for you, miss,” she said in her soft voice, raising the crown up to you. “The Mother smiles down on you tonight, our young maiden.”

Your heart leaped in your chest, pounding so hard you wondered if you would have a heart attack right then and there. “I’m not-“ you started, but you were unable to finish the sentence.

Up until three days ago, you hadn’t even lived here. How could you, of all people, be the maiden?

“Take it, Y/N,” Azriel murmured, and you could hear the awe in his voice. “It’s not wise to argue with the children.”

With trembling hands, you took the crown from the girl, the green vines pressing into your fingers. The girl smiled brightly and skipped back to the line of other children. They quickly formed another circle, once again dancing and laughing as the musicians began to play their joyful tune.

Azriel dropped his arms as you stepped out of his grasp, turning around to face him. You smiled as you raised the crown up and placed it on his head, the shimmering flowers bright against his inky black hair. His shadows swirled around the crown, forming their own crown of shadows above him.

“A crown for my lover,” you murmured, letting your fingers run down the side of his face as you dropped your hand. Azriel’s eyes fluttered closed, his lips parting slightly. “It seems the Mother has smiled down on us tonight, Azzy.”

You had never been a religious person, and you didn’t understand the religion of Prythian, but something sparked in your chest at the sight of Azriel wearing this crown. You wanted to laugh at the sight of this dark, shadow-wreathed male wearing something so bright and innocent.

“This isn’t how I expected the night to go,” he muttered. He raised a hand and lightly touched the crown on his head. He wrinkled his nose as he felt the silky roses beneath his fingertip. “How ridiculous do I look?”

You giggled, moving forward to wrap your arms around his slim waist. You tipped your head up and pressed a kiss to his jaw, your lips brushing against the stubble growing there. “Not ridiculous at all. You look as handsome as ever.”

Az raised a brow, his lips quirking in a goofy, almost boyish smile. “Handsome, huh?” he teased, his eyes shining with amusement. “I didn’t know I needed to wear a flower crown for you to admit you think I’m handsome.”

You reached down and pinched his ass, earning a quiet yelp from him. “Stop being difficult, Azriel,” you warned, but your tone was playful.

Suddenly, you felt a small tug on your coat, pulling your attention away from Azriel. The young female who had given you the crown stood behind you, that innocent smile still on her face. She beckoned you forward with a hand. “Come on,” she said, her braid swaying as he turned her head.

“There is one part of the ceremony I didn’t tell you about,” Azriel murmured, leaning down to smile at the girl. “The last part of it, anyway.”

You already had a feeling of where this was going, but you asked anyway, “And what part would that be?”

“After the young maiden places the crown on her lover, the two of them have to join the circle and dance with the children,” he responded, his voice like a lover’s caress on your skin. “They have to dance, and the lover has to keep the crown on their head for the rest of the night.”

“Or what?” Your voice was barely a whisper, your eyes on the children as they jumped and spun to the music.

Azriel nipped at your ear. “If the crown falls off, it’s considered a bad omen. A sign that bad things are coming for the couple that could tear them apart.”

The gravity of his words was overpowered by the sound of the lovely music and the laughing children. You glanced over your shoulder and offered Az a wink. “Then you better keep that crown on your head, Azzy.”

You took Azriel’s hand in yours, and together you let the young girl pull you into the circle of dancers. The music was wilder now, more infectious, the rhythm pulsing through your veins. Your heart raced in time with the beat as you moved in unison with the children, laughter spilling from their lips as they spun around.

You followed their lead, twirling in circles with your arms raised high, the world around becoming a blur of color and sound. The laughter of the children was contagious, and you found yourself swept up in the moment, spinning and dancing with abandon, the beat of the drums washing over your body.

Azriel’s hand stayed firm in yours, his usual stoic demeanor slipping away as he smiled, caught in the carefree chaos of the music. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of him next to the small children. He looked so massive, all dark and shadowy, save for the glowing crown of flowers on his head.

As the music slowed and the dancing ended, Azriel pulled you close, his chest heaving against yours. Sweat had gathered on his forehead, making his hair stick to his brown skin. “There is one thing I still need to tell you,” he said breathlessly. His eyes were almost wild as he looked at you, scanning your every expression. “I wanted to wait, afraid that I would scare you off. But we promised no more secrets.”

You twined your hands in his hair, careful of the crown. “What is it, Azriel? You can tell me anything.”

A shadow flickered across his face, his hazel eyes full of anxiety. He took a deep breath to calm himself. “You’re my mate, Y/N.”

The sound of the children and the fading music were drowned out as your brain processed his words. Mate. You were his mate.

You remembered Nesta’s words about mates. A soul-bond, she had said. Like a pull or a tug, connecting you to them. It all made sense now. That feeling in your chest when you looked at Azriel, that constant need to be around him and to taste him and to smell him.

Mate. He was your mate.

Even back in your world, you had felt a connection to him, though it had been dull compared to now. Perhaps that was why he showed up at your door, of all places. Maybe he was the reason you were here. He was yours and you were his, and suddenly, all of the nonsense of the world started to make total sense.

You didn’t know what to say, and Azriel seemed to pick up on this. “I know that’s a lot to process,” he said, his voice thick with worry. “I don’t expect you to accept me right now, and it’s okay if you don’t want to accept me at all. I just wanted you to know. I can be a lot to handle, and I’m fucked up beyond imagination, so-“

You broke off his rambling with a searing kiss, your lips conveying what your mind could not. You ran your hands over his broad shoulders, easing the tense muscles there, pleading with him to understand that you would love to be his mate. Azriel groaned as your tongue met his, his hands moving up to gently cup your cheeks, his thumbs brushing across your cheekbone.

You pulled away, your eyes full of tears. “I-“You opened your mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. I choose you, you wanted to say. I love you. You took a deep breath, deciding it was best to force the words out anyway. Your lips parted, the confessions of your heart on the tip of your tongue-

The world exploded into darkness. Children screamed. People cried out in terror. The soothing music cut off abruptly, leaving only an eerie echo of the melody that had moments ago filled the air with warmth and joy. Now, it was swallowed by the void, replaced with a deafening silence that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

Azriel’s arms were around you in an instant, pulling you tight against him as the world seemed to shatter around you. His movements were swift as he brought you both to the ground. In one fluid motion, he rolled over you, his wings flaring out slightly, his body acting as a shield against whatever lurked in the darkness.  

Your eyes darted frantically across his face, your breath coming in quick, ragged bursts. “Azriel,” you managed to gasp, panic thick in your throat. “What is happening?” It wasn’t just panic you were feeling- it was fear. Deep, gut-wrenching fear that clawed at your insides, making it hard to breathe.

Azriel’s eyes went unfocused for a moment, his jaw going slack as if he were lost in deep thought. Then his voice came, low and barely audible. “Velaris is under attack,” he murmured, his gaze now darting over the chaos unraveling all around. Disbelief clouded his features as he said, “That’s impossible. The wards-“

But before he could finish, the sounds of blood splattering and bodies hitting the ground with sickening thuds reached your ears. Panic surged as you watched people-children- fall, their cries cutting through the night. You caught a flash of red hair tied in a braid swaying as the body hit the ground.

The head rolled to the side, the pale face splattered with blood, and you were met with the lifeless emerald stare of the young girl.

You screamed, your shrill cry echoing in the silence.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched, the healer within you screaming to rush to their aid. Your hands twitched at your sides, aching to help the injured, to stop the bleeding and save those you could.

You might not be human, and you might be in a world far away from the one you were raised in, but you were a nurse, through and through. Helping people was woven into your very being. Every fiber in your body urged you to run to ease the suffering around you, but Azriel’s body kept you pinned.

“Azriel,” you screamed, not caring that his ear was currently next to your lips. “Let me up! I can help them!”

Then, as if they heard your pleas, Azriel’s shadows- the ones that had become such a comforting presence to you- exploded into the darkness with a ferocity that made your breath catch. They surged outward like angry snakes, dark tendrils writhing and snapping like serpents poised to strike. They didn’t hesitate; they filled the streets, coiling around the screaming children and families, forming an impenetrable fortress around them.

You turned your head to the side, your eyes catching on a pair of black boots walking through the darkness. They were shiny, so shiny you could see your reflection in them as the person got closer. Moving your eyes up, you saw black leather pants on muscled thighs. A shiny metal chest plate that looked like armor, filled with those strange runes you remembered from your dreams, tight around an unmistakably masculine chest. Through the darkness, you saw dark hair and wings.

Cassian? You remembered the male from breakfast, the one who had looked at you with brotherly affection.

Your heart skipped, hope rising- but it faltered just as quickly. As the male got closer, you saw his ears, rounded and full of gold rings- piercings, you realized. His nose also had a golden hoop, shining despite the darkness around him. But those eyes, those dark, soulless eyes that held nothing but cold evil, and that smile. That sinister grin that had been haunting your dreams for the last three days.

Mathias.

“Azriel,” you breathed, slapping him roughly on the shoulder to get his attention. “Look.”

Azriel’s head snapped to the right, his eyes landing on Mathias. His beautiful face twisted into a snarl, his eyes going black with rage. “You.”

His voice was a low growl as he pushed himself off the ground, his hand going to the empty sheath at his thigh. He bared his teeth as his fingers found nothing but air, his expression turning as cold as ice.

Mathias chuckled. “You’re nothing without your little knife, are you, bastard?” He raised his hand, and now you could see the massive sword there, the silver gleaming in the darkness. “So sorry to crash your evening. Such a nice little party you were having.”

Azriel lunged at Mathias, siphons blazing, his body moving so fast he was nothing but a blur. His wings flared, and his shadows darted out, their smoky tendrils mere inches away from Mathias.

But Mathias only rolled his eyes. With a simple flick of his hand, he sent out a wave of darkness so black, it gobbled up all the remaining light. You could feel the wrongness of it, the scent of rot and decay filling your nose as you fought the urge to gag.

The power hit Azriel square in the chest, sending him flying back into a building lining the street. His wings crunched behind him, his siphons winked out, the blue light swallowed whole by Mathias’s dark power. He roared in pain as his body hit the brick with the full force of whatever magic Mathias wielded.

“Like I said,” Mathias crooned. “You’re nothing at all.” He quickly sheathed his sword, his attention now locked on you.

You trembled as you felt the weight of the lifeless gaze slither along your body.

He moved closer to you, so close now that you could smell his scent of death. You scrambled away, your mind racing, your fingers digging into the stones beneath you. But your gaze was locked on Azriel’s crumpled body against the wall. Get up! Please get up! you wanted to scream, but the words caught in your throat as a hand wrapped around your neck, cutting off your airway.

Mathias snapped his fingers, a cruel, satisfied smile on his face as a black obsidian collar materialized in his hand. Without hesitation, he snapped the collar around your neck, latching it closed with a single flick of his fingers. It was cold on your skin, so cold you felt like it was burning. You wanted to scream, to cry, to make sure Azriel knew you loved him-

The world around went silent. The flame that had been living inside of you died out as if a massive gust of wind had filled your body and blown it to ash. Numbness washed over you, heavy and oppressive, turning your limbs sluggish and your thoughts foggy. It felt as if your very soul had been dimmed, swallowed whole by the darkness around Velaris.

Mathias leaned closer, his breath hot and rancid against your neck, his voice dripping with sadistic satisfaction as he whispered, “Gotcha.”

The last thing you saw before the world splintered away was the flower crown on Azriel’s head falling to the ground, the once-shimmering petals now stained red with his blood.

a/n pt. 2: well, he told her. i hope you guys didn't think i was gonna make this easy... *evil laughter*

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[shiro41]

Fucking My Teacher- GOJO SATORU

Summmary: Fucking your sleeping teacher is bad enough but waking him up while doing it?

WARNINGS: Somnophilia, blowjob, degration, dirty talk, noncon(?), 1 slap, using of names (bitch, slut, etc.), teacher-student, breeding if you squint, belly buldge, virgin!reader, hint of size kink, yandere!reader

Note: this is an old work for my friend..thought might post something since it's valentines...yeah- im late.

The soft breaths that left his mouth quietly felt as you hovered your finger on his lips. The Ghostly touch of his delicate skin and rested face made your cheeks tint a rosy color.

His worn mask was nowhere to be seen and the usual black attire he wears often at school was replaced with a comfortable T-shirt and boxers that hugged the curve of his waist, exposing the plush of his muscular thighs and shaved legs.

The scent of his perfume lingered despite the newly changed clothes, it clung on his skin like glue and his tufts of white scattered around the fluff of his pillow.

Admist the darkness of his room that's illuminated by the natural light of the moon, you can still see the beauty of this man. Your featherlight touch continued to drag across from his delicate features to his hard muscles that peaked and teased you from the confines of his shirt.

Swallowing a thick load of saliva, you got up from your position before giving the defenseless man a kiss goodnight on his forehead, leaving as fast as a cool breeze with no evidence to trace about someone's presence other than your beloved.

A palpitating heart and cold fingers combine with heated cheeks and whirled stomach, the very thought of Satoru drives you to insanity full of desire and love for your snow white teacher.

The figment of Satoru telling you sweet nothings and holding you close to him more than just a platonic teacher-student relationship makes you drool at the thought. The ecstasy you always feel whenever Gojo's soft skin makes contact with your own, sending you to a state of Euphoria.

You've yearned for his attention, yearned for the feeling of the sweet flying butterflies that whirled in your stomach like a tornado and hungered for his affection.

The small bag containing minor objects that belonged to your teacher was a reminder of how much you love him, the stashed collection of things he has bought and gave on your abode served as a sign of your undying affection for your white haired teacher, Gojo.

The vivid image of his calm breathing from earlier synced with the thrust of your fingers, the audible squelching sound of your juice coated finger and the suppressed moans that dare escape your lips was a reminder how much you lust over your mentor.

Your legs shook with the way your pussy walls clenched against your fingers, sheets coated in white as you felt the Ecstasy of the orgasm. Gojo's unsuspecting faces and stolen photos scattered around your bed like reviewers, surrounding your pleasure filled figure as you continued to suck on your fingers, tongue swirling and unintentionally biting the skin.

The smell of your mentor's freshly washed underwear hitting your nose as you salivate with the idea of Satoru's length shoved down your throat, thrusting in a pace that would leave you in tears, leaking like a broken faucet underneath him.

Your restrained moans and small cries of Gojo's name that became a chant as your fingers slid in and out, stretching the overstimulated vagina that yearned for Gojo's dick.

The loud puffs and pants as you rode out your second orgasm for the night followed by a meek call of his name as your body collapsed from the intense session of masturbation, the bed creaking along the way.

You could feel the wetness in your abdomen, caused by the cum that seeped into the thick covers of your bed. The cloth that Stuck on your mouth was centimeters away from you, a visible wet patch from your saliva and stretched visage of your fingers going deep within your throat.

"Gojo..."

Although sensitive and tired, you pushed yourself to clean up after the mess of your pleasure filled session thinking about your teacher in a way so sinful the devil could not accept in hell.

Morning rolled around for you to attend school with your classmates, greeting Nobara with a bubbly persona and Itadori as you three chit chatted about certain things. Megumi was unfortunately sent to a mission to exorcist curses directly commanded by your teacher, Gojo.

Said man barged into the room with a grin, his towering figure spreading as he made himself welcome despite the late arrival. You found yourself in a reverie about your teacher's flexing fingers, finding them incredibly attractive with the way it curled and straightened with every movement.

You wondered what it would feel like to grip on your thighs and plunge it deep within your sweet pussy, maybe slap the folds and rub your aching clitoris.

The very thought of it makes you shudder and let out a breath, the shaky sigh and quiet rampaging imaginaries you've fantasized about your teacher made you rub your thighs together. How sinful, aroused in class fantasizing about Gojo who seemed to be oblivious—like any other students with you—about your undying lust and love.

"(Name)!"

With a sudden call of your name from his lips and the touch of his hands on your shoulder, the gasp that escaped you and the shiver of your whole body was evident to everybody. It was clear you weren't paying attention to their current topic, too busy undressing Gojo with your eyes.

"Are you alright? Something bothering you, hmm?"

"It's nothing, Gojo.."

"Oh come on, you can tell me! Is it a boyfriend?"

What a tease. Behind the black fabric of his blindfold was his blue eyes that will stare deep within your soul and you knew he was checking your well-being as of now behind his mask.

With an annoyed huff and furrowed brows, you pushed your teacher away to create a space. However, his hands caught your wrists and that alone made your heart skip a beat or two.

His touch was firm yet soft, almost securing you like a fragile package. His hands wrapped snugly around your wrists and you wondered if this is the equivalent of his touch when he's bedding a woman.

"G-get off me, stupid teacher! It's none of your business if I'm thinking of someone!"

You exclaimed, cheeks flushed with tints of pink and glare hotter than the hot summer air. Despite your mini tantrum, your mentor's teasing grin did not dissipate. Instead, it grew to a mischievous smirk that you knew won't end well.

Despite your mini tantrum, your mentor's teasing grin did not dissipate. Instead, it grew to a mischievous smirk that you knew won't end well.

You exclaimed, cheeks flushed with tints of pink and glare hotter than the hot summer air. Despite your mini tantrum, your mentor's teasing grin did not dissipate. Instead, it grew to a mischievous smirk that you knew won't end well.

"Care to tell us who?"

The day ended with teasing, Nobara and Itadori's curiosity seeped out of them like overflowing waters. Their arms would cling into the fabric of your uniform like leeches as Gojo's angelic voice sung like an angel from heaven in the background, adding salt to the wound he caused with his mischief.

At the comfort of your room, your stare lingered at the skin of your wrists. Gojo's touch still present despite the fact it's physically absent, love was an understatement to describe what you felt during that moment. It was rather blissful, satisfying.

addicting.

The late of the night didn't make your eyes shut with sleepiness, the overwhelming desire to fuck your teacher rivaled the drowsiness. At an ungodly hour, you've snuck once again at his humble abode with quiet steps and careful movements. The stealth of your figure could compare to a feline's; light and quick.

The familiar door that you've come to know as your beloved teacher's greeted you, blocking whatever is happening inside which you knew by heart. The soft jiggle of the doorknob and a disturbing creak didn't awaken the man who snored blissfully in his bed, covers a mess and position laid out similar to a starfish. The sight made the insides of your body shiver in a pleasant manner.

As per usual, you stared at his defenseless figure completely drinking up the sight of his relaxed state. Oh, how you wish you could just kiss those parted lips and silence the small snores that escape them, feel the flesh of his skin and cup the softness of his cheeks.

"Satoru..."

A breath, you found yourself straddling him. Hovering over his sleeping body with the familiar dancer performing in your eyes; Lust. His breaths harmonize with your heavy pants, touch featherlight against the thin fabric of his garments. Your eyes stayed focused on his covered ones, white lashes at rest that you want to kiss.

Morals and values were not in your book, so does resistance. With a soft bite of your lip, a deep breath and a quick pull, you knew it was too late to go back down and beg for whatever deity you believed in to forgive your sins.

With all its glory revealed your teacher's rested cock, you could feel the blood circulating at the area of your nose as you continued to strip the fabric off his sleeping figure. Slowly, intimately and sinfully.

"Fuck, you're built like god's favorite."

You whispered, softly fluffing his hair and a kiss on his forehead before you retracted and focused on the meaty length that settled in between his muscular thighs. You suppressed a moan, it was better than you pictured. All the pornography you watched late at night, wishing it was his engorged flesh plunging deep into your velvety walls was not comparable to the cock of Gojo Satoru.

The desire to touch and taste his dick was immense, thanking whatever exists above that this man turns off his infinity while asleep. Your pink muscle experimented around the area of his pink tip, swirling it like a lollipop and licking it like chocolate on a spoon. It wasn't as tasty as you expected, it didn't feel like it was supposed to be judging from the adult videos you've seen, however, the tingles and collywobbles confessed how you enjoy pleasing the sleeping man.

A small groan was let out, halting your movement to look over the man who's still thankfully asleep. One could not fathom how low and dirty you swooped in to taste and love this majestic human underneathe you. Diving deeper into the depths of his length, you've managed to suck the muscle that turned slightly stiff overtime.

The head was now slightly hitting your throat, choking and gagging at the thick muscle that snuggly fit in your stretched wet cavern.

You could've sworn the man woke up in a daze before succumbing to sleep a few times before you let go of his now saliva covered dick, liquid dripping on his thighs as his cock stood up like a proud man after your inexperienced performance. Of course, he deserved to be your first in everything.

"Satoru... you're so...mph.."

Staring yet again at his relaxed expression, completely unaware of your doings to his unconscious body. The wet patch on the thin fabric of your panties only grew larger by the minute, it sought to be touched and pleasured, alas, your hands were as busy as your mouth; giving Gojo an inexperienced blowjob in his sleep.

A sigh and a small stutter of your hips when you took off the wet underwear and touched the bundle of nerves that waited to be pleasured, the heat on your cheeks couldn't be any hotter with the way you touched yourself on top of your mentor. It was humiliating but that humiliation was overpowered by the desire and lust to fuck your teacher, have your cunt suck his penis dry of white substances. It made your spine shudder with excitement.

With a hungered lick and a few strokes on his stiff cock, you dare to lead the pulsating tip to your soft folds— teasing yourself with the sensation of his dick on the surface of your sopping vagina. How naughty of you to take advantage of your sleeping teacher, fucking yourself with his aroused member. The slight groans and shifts of his made your body run cold in a pleasant manner, the thrill of waking him up keeps your adrenaline going and heart in a pace of a running man's.

A rather low and restrained moan passed by the guards of your lips as your soaked private suck and ate his throbbing length without any problem with the exception of the discomfort of it stretching your inexperienced hole.

Of course, you believed he's the only man to deserve and experience your divine pussy and take your sacred virginity even when unconscious, the thought of another man's penis taking you makes you shiver in disgust. It was Gojo's and Gojo's only. No one else. So, when you finally settled and felt the burning fire that bloomed as your walls was forced to stretch to a foreign object inside you that's definitely thicker and longer than what your fingers could reach and curl, you softly bounced on his hips.

The feeling of his length softly entering and exiting your hole that morphed into the shape of him was more than heaven, it was paradise.

It felt addicting, it felt satisfying. All you could do was take it in, enjoy the pleasure that it gave despite the minor discomfort it gave and drink up the moments that are rarer than a diamond gem. Sharp intakes of air and soft whispers was all you could do, doing your best not to moan too loud and wake the sleeping man beneath you.

"Satoru, Satoru...! Haah...so good..!"

"I love you so much, I'd kill and die for you...your cock is so big..god!"

Gradually, your pace got quicker as your huffs became louder, almost evident to the cold air that surrounded your heated body. Hand on your mouth, screwing it shut tight and eyes teary with the way his dick thrusted in you as you bounced like a cowgirl on a bull's back. Your toes curled up on the sheets, the nails of your fingers digging on your skin to form small crescent moons and occasionally scratch the delicate flesh.

"Fuck...Satoru!"

"I'm.... I'm....fucking god!"

A silent scream and a stutter of your whole body, creamy and thick white semen overflowed from the inside of your cunt. Your vision faded to black as the earth seemingly stopped to witness your pleasure filled expression, inaudible whines and sobs as your teeth buried deep in your skin to silence the volume of your bliss.

The feeling of incredible strength of a fist tying your hair at the back of your head and a deep, sleepy chuckle made your blood run as cold as Russia's snow. Is this how a deer feels when exposed to headlights? You thought to yourself, stunned by the sudden awakening of your teacher.

"How's your experience so far, sweetheart?"

"G-gojo! It's uhm.."

The situation itself was unexplainable, the feelings you harboured for your mentor were unexplainable. Everything about your doings was unexplainable.

"Now, now, (name). I bet you've enjoyed everything that has happened so far. But, you do know everything you've done is wrong, don't you?"

Was he going to lecture you? That's the best thing that could happen as of now, you think. He's probably going to report you to the jujutsu headquarters or just send you to the police to repent your unforgivable sins. All this happening with his dick still inside, drenched with your dripping cum on the sides of your thighs and his to the sheets of his bed.

"Don't you deserve to be punished?"

The question sounded more like a statement, you felt his grip from behind your head tighten. His other hand is finding a way to your jaw that's dried with your own saliva from the session, ever so slightly pressing the smallest amount of strength that felt like a guard to keep your mouth from lapping anything that belongs to and is on him.

"How naughty of you, (Name)."

He whispered, sending spooky chills throughout your whole body. You waited for his next move, accepting whatever he will do to you like a good obedient girl that's been tamed by the fine hands of her teacher. You've already eaten the forbidden fruit, it was just a matter of time for you to face the consequences of your actions but you did not expect to be caught midway of committing it.

A surprised yelp and a jerk of your body left your soul flying to heaven as his hips rutted without a word, squelching noise audible to both of you as his balls came into contact with your skin. Hands flying to his shoulders for support as he continued without a word uttered for you to prepare, stuffing you with his meaty length vigorously.

"Ah-ah! Sat—Gojo! Please stop I'm sensitive!"

"What happened to 'Satoru', baby? Are you too shy to utter my name now?"

With your teacher's strength, he flipped the both of you. Now underneath him, you could see the oceanic spheres that danced with sinful lust and sadism that matched the smirk on his lips. His hand wrapped around your wrists rather tightly, almost making blood circulation stop in that particular area from the raw strength he possesses.

Hips continue to plunge deep inside you with the speed of a beast that makes the bed creak in a noisy manner as it hits the wall every time Gojo's cock disappears into your body.

"Ah! Satoru! Satoru! Satoru!"

You could only whine and sob, the intensity of your pussy being assaulted with his dick was better than earlier. He truly is an experienced man, making you cry out in pleasure as you willingly submit to be his whore of a student. Your legs are forced to be spread wide and dangle on his shoulders, having deeper access to hit every crevice of your heated walls.

From the Orgasm you had earlier and your teacher's intense pace and rough thrusts, your poor inexperienced vagina could only handle so much stimulation that it made you scream in ecstasy when you felt the gush of juices painting Gojo's length white, legs shaking from the shockwaves and seeing dots of white and black as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

"Came already? But we are only just getting started."

"Ngh...Satoru I don't think—"

"You will. Whether you like it or not, you will be taking my dick like a desperate bitch you are. Are we clear?"

You could only respond with a single sob and cry, having no other choice but to take him in despite the overwhelming pleasures your body can't handle.

"Speak!"

A slap on your cheek.

"(Name), don't be a bitch now. Come on, speak and tell me your answer."

Vehement thrusts are what greeted you like no tomorrow, you felt the burning sensation of his harsh touch on your swollen cheek as his eyes glared down at you with a glowing fire of lust.

"Y-yes Satoru!"

You mustered, too fucked up to even form a single phrase. You could feel the wetness of your juices and Gojo's leaking from your hole that's been filled with yours and his rich, white semen. His length continued to assault you glistening pussy without a stop, a few groans and audible pants from him. The hand that acted as a restraint on your wrist continued to clutch them, now stronger than before as he's too indulged with the way your walls hugged his cock, morphing into the shape of it as if he's marking your insides.

"Fuck, you're a virgin aren't ya? This sweet pussy is mine to claim."

His hand that once restrained your arms slithered down your heated, pleasure filled body to the bundle of nerves that he's currently filling up. His index finger toyed with your clit and continued to form a circular motion that triggered a switch for you to automatically raise your hips from the soft surface of his bed and scream his name as you once again came from the added sensation of his hand.

"How pretty."

Diving to reach you, his slimy tongue lapped up the forming sweat and flowing tears on your cheek, tasting it like the last droplets of soda in a plastic can. His fingers continued to skillfully support his beast-like thrusts, occasionally pinching and slapping your vagina as if it were some skin on your arm. Your moans were no longer there, replaced with desperate whines, cries and hiccups.

"Take my cum and don't let it leak, got it? Not a single bit."

He murmured in your ear, biting the shell and wet it with his slithering tongue. A meek nod and a pathetic mustered yes from you before you felt yourself being carried like a newborn to Gojo's clothed chest, arms wrapped around your nude figure to secure your seat in his lap with his penis connecting you both in this ride.

If your screams weren't loud enough earlier, it definitely did now. You swore you saw the glass of unfinished water shake for a moment as your mentor jackhammered himself in you, constant sounds of slaps and squelches becoming background noises from the echoing gutteral moans from you and occasional groans and degration from your mentor.

"Ugh! Satoru! Fuck! Fuck me harder! There, there! Angh..there please!"

"Such a needy b-bitch, don't worry..Teacher's cum will fill you up any second now."

He purred, bouncing you up and down forcefully as he also plowed his pleasure stick as fast and wild as he could. You could see the crack on the bedframe and hear the quick creak of something being bent with the way he stuffed you full.

"Please! Please!"

Pathetically begging, you felt like a slut in need for a refill of his semen to energize you for the day. The world was now in a blurry mess, mixed with the tears and dizziness you're experiencing in sync thanks to your teacher's massive length. You could slightly see your stomach bulge every time his cock disappears, it scared you how long and thick it is to the point it started to get a little too intense for your liking but, you weren't one to complain and would rather save yourself from the advantage of your teacher exposing your sins to authorities or anyone he knows.

His fingers pried your mouth open, exposing your bleeding tongue that's been bitten minutes prior to his awakening. Your eyes widened as you felt the spit of his combine with yours inside your wet cavern being mixed with his tongue like a witch brewing a new potion. The open mouthed kiss didn't let you forget the arching of your back pressing against his torso, the fire that pooled in your abdomen similar to springs recoiling before it snapped in half.

The sudden stop of his thrust and the erotic moan from him made you realize he too, have cummed in sync with you. You felt his lips press at the side of your head whilst the grip of his hands on your waist and hips were the contrast of his soft gesture. You fear they'll bruise later or tomorrow, but that wasn't what concerned you the most in this situation.

The heavy breaths and pants was the only thing you could hear aside from the ringing of your head, feeling the gush of liquids on your pussy and the slow retract of his cum covered dick, witnessing how your stomach visibly deflated from emptiness. You were still high from the overstimulation the man have gave you, the amount of orgasm you managed to produce in one night without having to pass out midway, all of it has made you feel beyond tired and exhausted.

The ustulation was satisfied temporarily, deep within you knew this was not going to be the last you'll ever taste your teacher's dick and the start of you diving deeper into the obsession over your handsome, masked teacher.

Gojo's Azure gaze stayed glued into your hazed ones, still calming down from a draining activity. Was this all worth it? Of course it was, you've tasted your teacher in more ways than what you expected and you were beyond grateful for it, ignoring how humiliating and shameful it is for you to grasp it.

"As a Punishment, you will be sent to a mission three weeks worth of time with no assistance, whatsoever."

[aayakashii]

Please I beg for Rui crumbs *violently shakes my tin can*

Anything will do

Please 😩

/also hello :3

HELLOOO

I offer you 🤲 rui angst and mild yandere-ism

I'm gonna be honest: I wrote this half asleep so I might change some things later and I will probably expand on it to make a longer fic just of him suffering( ¬ ̀᎑ ¬ ) so this is just a liddol taste for now!!!

Rui knew you didn't take him seriously.

He knew what he looked like, what he sounded like. He had a full length mirror and, even if he didn't, he was pretty sure Ed would be more than pleased to rub it in his face.

Rui knew he was the spitting image of a player. Flirting came naturally to him, winks and flying kisses were mere greetings.

He knew very well that, at some point, his host club image became a way to cope with his curse – since he couldn't ever touch anyone, unless he wanted them dead, what was the harm in being just a little bit more forward, right?

One thing he didn't account for, is how you'd see right through him. You managed to see beyond his carefully crafted mask of nonchalance – not as an irredeemable flirt, but as someone who would gladly trade all the attention he gets from his antics for a way to free himself of his awful curse.

While he acted like he's used to his fate, you saw how inside he was constantly clawing his way out of despair.

Rui didn't really know when the messages he sent your way started stirring his insides. He didn't know when his groin began to feel uncomfortable at the thought of you on his bed, at his mercy (or maybe he could be at your mercy, who knows? He'd be more than willing to adapt).

What he knew very well, much to his chagrin, is that his comments began to feel more and more like truths, rather than harmless flirting.

Suddenly, his fingers hovered a little longer on his phone's keyboard – write, erase, write, erase and write again. Typing a simple message became so difficult when the words mattered, when Rui wanted you to believe his words.

And as he saw the way your hands ran through Lyca's hair while you brushed it before school, he felt the thorns of a feeling, green and rotten, pierce his core relentlessly – the last nail on his coffin of insufferable pining.

Rui, then, thought: how could he finally convince you that he, more than anyone else, truly wanted to know you?

How could he prove that he wanted you to sleep every single night in his dorm, even if he couldn't touch you?

That he just needed to know he was breathing the same air as you – becoming one with you through atoms and chemical reactions, since he couldn't through a kiss.

How could he tell you that he was all yours to take if you wanted to?

It was something new, this longing. And staying awake for so long became a torture, because even as he cut the branches of his plants or cleaned his bar, his mind still went straight to you. 

Would you prefer a sweeter beverage, or a bitter one? 

Would you like the taste of the new drink he was concocting? 

Would you try some of his favorite creations? 

Would you please drink from one of his cups so he could just never wash it again and find a bit of reprieve through an indirect kiss and–

Oh… Yeah… He was losing it.

After all, the world wasn't unfair when it gave him that awful curse. The world was unfair, however, when it sent you his way and prohibited him from touching you like he needed to.

And he desperately needed to be able to hold you in his arms, until he couldn't tell when his body ended and yours started, in order to quench the madness that brewed, so dangerously close to boiling, inside his core.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny slowly lowered himself down onto Luther's newest death machine thanks to his bat themed grappling hook. Making special care not to let his heart beat or his lungs take in breath lest Superman hear him and intervene, he used his intangibility to sink into the machine itself to steal its parts.

Yeah, so a full white outfit wasn't the best choice for stealth, but it was better than dressing like a traffic light. Plus the black gloves and boots made him feel nostalgic. It had been only seven months since the accident that took his life, so much has happened since then.

Biting his lip as he smiled as he began gathering up parts and wires with his intangibility and placing them into his bag. Lastly he grabbed the power source, which-surprise, surprise, is kryptonite.

After he grabbed what he wanted he quickly stuck a note on the maintenance panel of the machine for when someone opened it and discovered it now had a large hollow space, then simply sank down through the floor and flew to freedom.

Danny sighed once he was clear. Or, at least he thought he was.

"Young man." Crud. Danny turned around to see big blue floating behind him in all his red underwear glory. Great. "I believe you have something that doesn't belong to you." The Kryptonian said, looking pointedly at the large chunk of kryptonite Danny held under his arm.

Instead of an excuse, Danny got an idea. "Uh, hello? Recognize the mask?" He said, gesturing to his face.

Superman narrowed his eyes, staring at his face for a few very long seconds and just as Danny was about to cut his losses and book it out of there, a look of recognition graced the heros face. Sweet. "Thats Nightwings mask."

"Yeah. Just smaller."

Superman nodded, then asked, "Why aren't you wearing a bat symbol? I wouldn't have thought you were a thief if I knew you were working with Batman." Danny had to fight to keep his face neutral.

"I haven't decided what symbol I want on my suit yet." And that was true. Danny wasn't sure he wanted any symbol at all. The mark of the bat would mean that he belonged in the batclan, and Danny was a lone ghost. A wandering spirit if you will. He didn't belong anywhere.

Some small part of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Jazz said that might be one of the reasons he's been behaving so poorly lately, but he brushed it off. Superman just nodded sagely. Danny doubted he actually knew how Danny felt and was just nodding along to appear sympathetic. Adults lie, and they lie often. Danny kinda hated them for it.

"Well, I'm kinda on a deadline, so I should get going. Crime to fight, goth furry to annoy, you know how it is." Danny said, waving the arm that wasn't carrying the kryptonite around in the air before using it to readjust the bags strap on his shoulder.

"Alright," superdude smiled warmly, "Tell Batman I said hi." Danny grinned back at him as he jogged away, "Will do!"

That went better than expected. Thank you, Nightwing~! The boy thought to himself as he ran off into a secluded area and turned invisible and flying away.

Just imagining Supermans face if- no- when Batman finally breaks and tells the Justice League about the little menace thats been stealing all his and his sidekicks stuff for the last few weeks nearly sends Danny into hysterics.

Danny still has Robins sword mounted above the fireplace in his favorite safe house in Costa del Sol. Red Hoods "favorite" motorcycle was in its garage and Red Robins wrist computer and chest harness thing were mounded in a glass case next to the first thing he stole from them:

Batmans utility belt.

Sure, its a pain to remove all the tracking stuff from them, but man is he proud of those accomplishments.

Still. Its better to leave Metropolis after he got caught by Superman. Its only a mater of time before someone finds out about the old switcheroo he pulled at the last museum robbery and that combined with the bodies of those creepy rich guys he had killed (human trafficer buyers) well, surely Batman has noticed he had been gone for a while and would pick up on the matching M.O. in Metropolis.

Time to bounce.

[aventurineswife]

Kafka, Silver Wolf, Blade and Jingliu with Reader who cooks as bad as Yor Forger? 🤣 (Could be platonic or romantic, whatever floats your boat.)

Like Reader’s cooking is so bad it makes the actual in-game food item Sugarball Fried Viscorpi look normal in comparison, and even the most hardened criminal would balk and flee the moment Reader lifts the plate cover. A cycrane could be passing overhead and as soon as it catches a whiff, it just drops dead to ground with smoke rising from it. A devout follower of Lan might start praying to Yaoshi for a strong enough stomach to survive a bite, maybe a few bites if luck is on their side. That’s how bad Reader’s cooking is. It should be impossible for one person to be so terrible at cooking, yet Reader pulls it off without even meaning to, with desperate attempts to avoid it being terrible.

I just think it’s funny for characters that are meant to be super serious or “tough/cool” have that exterior suddenly shatter/freeze up when faced with something that is so awful and yet very much mundane. 😂

“When Love Cooks... but the Kitchen Revolts” | Part 1

Tags: Kafka x Reader, Silver Wolf x Reader, Blade x Reader, Jingliu x Reader, Humor, Fluff, Cooking Disaster, Slice of Life, Mild Chaos, Romantic Undertones but can be read Platonically, Lighthearted, Crack Fic.

Warnings: Slightly chaotic food descriptions, humor involving exaggerated reactions to food (no real harm intended), mentions of inedible meals.

A/N: was laughing when reading this req🤭, don't let this reader meet Solomon and Raphael 💀

[Part 2] | [Part 3]

Kafka was rarely fazed. A Stellaron Hunter who could manipulate the minds of the toughest soldiers and bring entire armies to their knees with her charm and cunning—what could truly unsettle someone like her?

Apparently, your cooking.

“I appreciate the effort, darling,” Kafka purred, her tone masking the visible hesitation in her movements. Her hair fell over one shoulder as she peered down at the steaming… dish? It was hard to describe what lay before her, even for someone as eloquent as Kafka. The consistency was gelatinous, the smell pungent enough to make the station's security drones glitch and crash into a nearby wall.

You watched nervously as she poked the food with her fork. It wobbled menacingly.

“I followed the recipe to the letter this time!” you exclaimed, your hands wringing a dishcloth. “I even double-checked the measurements.”

Kafka gave you a patient smile, though there was a flicker of genuine fear in her eyes. She tentatively lifted the fork to her lips, her composure rivaling that of a woman walking into certain death.

The taste hit her like a warpstorm.

The fork clattered to her plate, and for the first time, you saw Kafka’s facade crack. Her lips twitched as she forced a smile that was as strained as the vocal chords of a cycrane caught mid-squawk. A bead of sweat slid down her temple.

“Exquisite,” she said, voice a touch too high. “Truly a flavor I’ve never experienced before.”

Outside the window, a passing cycrane plummeted from the sky, smoke trailing from its feathers. You gasped, and Kafka seized the opportunity.

“Darling,” she said, standing abruptly and pulling you close to her side, “why don’t we step outside? Some fresh air might do us good.”

“But you haven’t even finished—”

“No need!” she interrupted quickly, her polished calm returning. “I’m already full. Full of… new memories.”

As the two of you stepped outside, the dish quietly bubbled on the table, sending faint tremors through the floor.

Silver Wolf was sprawled across your couch, console in hand, her fingers flying over the buttons as she annihilated yet another level. She barely glanced up when you called her to the table.

“Hold up, just one more boss fight!” she said, her voice dripping with casual confidence.

“Silver Wolf, it’s going to get cold!” you called back, proud of your latest attempt at dinner.

With a dramatic sigh, she finally paused her game and wandered over. “Alright, alright. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

She froze mid-step when she saw the plate. Her usual smirk faltered, replaced by wide-eyed disbelief. The dish in front of her looked… pixelated. Somehow, you had cooked something that appeared to have graphical glitches. A faint buzzing sound emanated from it, and a small spark leapt from one corner of the plate.

“Uh…” she began, stepping back cautiously. “Did you… download this food? Is this some kind of DLC?”

“No, it’s homemade! I swear, I followed all the steps this time.”

Silver Wolf adjusted her purple glasses, leaning in like she was analyzing enemy data. “It’s moving...” she whispered.

“It’s probably just steam.”

“It has a health bar...” she countered, pointing at the faint glowing bar hovering above the plate.

You crossed your arms. “Don’t be dramatic.”

Before she could respond, a stray kitchen cycrane beeped as it flew overhead, caught a whiff of the food, and promptly crashed through the window. Silver Wolf stared at the wreckage, then back at you.

“…Yeah, I’m ordering pizza.”

Blade had faced mara, untold pain, and the horrors of his immortal existence. Nothing could break him—or so he thought.

“Dinner is ready!” you called cheerfully, setting a plate in front of him. He glanced at it, his eyes narrowing slightly. The dish emitted a faint purple mist, and there was a distinct hiss as it touched the table.

“Is it… safe?” he asked, his tone flat.

“Of course! I made sure it was cooked all the way through this time.” you said, smiling.

Blade lifted his fork, gripping it with the same resolve he used to wield his broken sword. He took a small bite, and for a brief moment, you thought he’d handle it.

But then his usually impassive face twisted. His mouth opened as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he slowly placed the fork down and stared at you.

“This… is a weapon.” he said finally.

You frowned. “You don’t like it?”

He shook his head. “No, I mean it’s literally a weapon. Whatever this is… it could end battles. Entire wars.”

Outside, a devout follower of Lan walking by your home dropped to their knees and began praying fervently. Blade sighed, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“Next time, let me cook.”

[Header credits]

Jingliu was a woman of discipline and focus. Even as she descended into the madness of mara, she maintained an iron grip on her composure. That composure was now being tested.

She stared at the dish before her, her eyes narrowing. “This… is your cooking?”

“Yes!” you said, grinning nervously. “I thought you might enjoy something homemade for a change.”

Jingliu reached for her chopsticks, her movements slow and deliberate. The air around her grew colder as if her body instinctively activated her Path of the Destruction abilities in self-defense. She picked up a piece of… something. It sizzled ominously in the open air.

“Perhaps…” she murmured, her voice low, “this is a test of endurance.”

She took a bite. The room fell silent.

Moments later, a faint cracking sound echoed through the house. You realized it was the sound of her chopsticks shattering under the force of her grip. Her usually calm expression flickered, a subtle twitch betraying her inner turmoil.

“It is… unique,” she said, her voice tight. “You have… a talent.”

Before you could respond, a faint thud came from outside. Looking out the window, you saw a stray cycrane lying on the ground, wisps of smoke curling from its beak.

Jingliu stood abruptly. “I must meditate on this experience. Alone.”

As she disappeared into the night, you sighed, looking at the uneaten plate. “Maybe I should take a cooking class.”

[lemon-popp]

Spending time with the Sith: episode ii

Pairing: Qimir x Black!female oc

Word count: 3463

Warnings: Fluff, Heavy flirting. little bit of tension. (probably typos) swearing

master list

A couple hours have passed since the masked man had taken Luna to his caved hideout, where he laid her down on his king sized bed. He took note of her small frame, wondering how did she get here, let alone survive.

She wouldn't even be able to bruise a fly

The man sat at the edge of the bed, continuing his analysis on the young one. Noting every detail of her face, from her full two toned lips to the tactical gear that hugged the curved planes of her figure. She looked peaceful as she slept, like a sleeping beauty.

That's enough, I look like a creep right now. He stands up from the bed, heading to the makeshift clothesline that hung from the stone wall. He had been in his clothes all day and deeply craved a nice dip in the ocean pool

Slowly, he starts to remove the black robe, starting at his waist before shimming the cloth from shoulders, leaving his back and chest out for display. The man reaches to remove his helmet until sounds of light movement is heard from behind him.

she's awake

"How was your little nap?", The masked man asked with a smirk, his back still towards her. His fingers move away from his masks reaching instead for his cream colored rob that hung on the clothes line.

Luna, still riddled with the drowsiness of sleep, shifts uncomfortably in the bed, wondering how she got here and who was the shirtless man who stood ahead of her.

She stayed quiet, observing her surroundings, looking for the escape route.

"I'm not gonna hurt you...well, not unless you give me a reason to," The man turned around swifty, toying with the linen cloth of the rob in his hand, nonchalantly.

Luna inhaled sharply, being met the the disturbing mask he wore.

Who is this guy?

"Who are you?" Luna doesn't hesitate, the uncomfort she felt quickly transformed into bold fearlessness. It was obvious he wasn't going to kill her, he would've just left her in the forest if that was the case. But no he brought her back and placed her on the softest bed she has ever laid on.

"I should ask you that. You are on my planet after all," Masked man quipped back. Luna rolled her almond shaped eyes and he couldn't helped but smile at her reaction.

"Your planet? Where's the deed," Luna claps back with a lack of fear that the masked man found impressive.

"I don't need a deed on a planet with nobody living on it,"

"Right, well, I'll leave you to YOUR planet," Luna attempts to climb off the bed, completely forgetting about her fucked up ankle, when her foot makes contact with the cold floor. A sharp pain rushed up her body, rushing up her throat like once before, but she holds in the yelp that threatens to escape, wincing instead.

The man tilts his head, his covered eyebrows furrowing in concern before making his way towards her, kneeling to meet her aching foot. Luna's eyes meet the slits of his mask that allows the man behind it to see. She notices his reaching hand, signaling to her ankle and with hesitation she allows him to hold her.

The man grabs ahold of her ankle, nothing how easily he could wrap his whole hand around it. Luna sighs at the contact partially in pain, but a part in an indescribable feeling. A feeling similar to before, but more tingly. One that starts at her foot and ends at her stomach. He pulls the tight fabric of her cargo pants up to expose the red, swollen flesh. Everything looked in place, nothing broken.

I might as well tell him my name if i'm gonna let him touch me like this

"Luna." He looks up, his golden mask nearly hitting her chin by how close they were.

"You can call me Qimir," Qimir nodded bringing his attention back to her possibly twisted ankle, rubbing it gently with his long fingers," How does it feel now?"

Luna attempts to move it around, it didn't hurt as much as before, but a feeling still lingered

"A little better," The girl nodded, using her new found mobility to move herself out of his grasp. Placing her foot on the ground softly, careful to not put too much pressure on it.

Qimir still kneeled before her, gazing at her through his thick mask. Observing her. She was easily the most beautiful creature he has ever laid eyes upon. And her demeanor. She didn't hold the same fear that others had when met with him. Then again, he was typically holding a light saber preparing to attack.

"Sooo, what's underneath this mask. Is half your face burned or something?," Luna brought her dainty hands up to knock on the skull of the mask gently in a joking matter. Her lips curling into a smile.

Qimir couldn't help but smile swell, glad that the mask did its job of hiding his face. But maybe he wanted her to see.

"Why don't you find out," the still shirtless man suggested, nodding the mask forward giving her permission to take it off of him. Luna raises an eyebrow, wondering if this was a test and he was actually planning to cut off her fingers at soon as she starts to lift it. However, her curiosity was too strong to deny. She wondered if his face looked as good or better than his exposed chest and back.

Luna reaches forward slowly with both hands, coming in contact with the strikingly cold metal that contrasted the heat of nervousness she felt.

Qimir let out a deep exhale, preparing to be unmasked for the first infant of someone. He doesn't know what gave him the sudden courage to do it now, with her especially. He just met her. But in the short amount of time he had spent with her, he was very intrigued.

The mask finally lifted, revealing his face which makes Luna's eyes widen and her heart race.

Oh, he's definitely not burned. Why would he hide such a gorgeous face?

The guy sported a jawline sharp enough to cut glass, nice pink lips and hair that had a mind of its mind, tendrils falling in front of his perfectly crafted face. Their eyes finally meet.

Qimir scoots closer, placing his hand on the bed, entrapping her between him. Their faces only inches apart. Luna almost stopped breathing. She has no clue what is going on. What she was feeling. Her heart raced and she felt the tingles once again. His eyes glance down at her luscious lips just for a split second, dragging them up impossibly slow to her eyes again.

"Like what you see?," Qimir teases, a mischievous smirk making it way on his lips. His eyes still holding the world's most intense eye contact.

cocky much, Luna thinks as she rolled her eyes, pushing herself back further onto the bed, creating a respectable amount of distance between them. She shakes her head, attempting to find a way to escape his question.

"I'm hungry," Luna says abruptly, adverting her gaze away from him with a defiant cross of her arms, like a toddler.

Qimir's smirk grows wider, enjoying the effect he had on her, regardless of how hard she tried to push him away.

The man stands up from his kneeling position, his pelvis now pretty much aligned to Luna's eyesight. Which is met with deliciously chiseled abs that led to an even more defined v-line. Her eyes dragged lower, wondering what the v-line could be pointing to.

Luna is brought out of her thoughts when a large hand appears infront of her offering her help, but obstructing the view she once had. She takes his right hand in hers, feeling his course calloused fingers gripping hers, right before he wraps his other around her tiny waist. Qimir presses the girl to him, insuring that her foot doesn't make contact with the ground, Luna drapes her clothed arm around his neck for extra support. That extra support However, led her to feeling the ripples of his upper back, a part of her craving to feel him skin to skin.

Qimir swiftly brings her to the main room, where he places her on the lonely cushioned chair that sat in front of an old steel stove to which the man makes his way towards.

On the stove, was a pot of soupy food, one of Qimir's favorite. He fixed Luna a bowl, bringing this dish to her. As it arrived, Luna saw a green unappetizing sludge. It looked like bile. Her face curls up in disgust and before she could say no, Qimir places the bowl in her lap.

"Just try it first before throwing a fit," He shakes his head at her, heading back to the stove to make himself a rather large serving. Luna plays with the gooey substance, icking herself out.

I cannot look at this any longer

Her eyes rip away, moving onto something actually quite pleasing to the eye. Qimir's wide back, detailed the meticulously crafted muscles. Almost as if he was designed by god himself. Her eyes traveled lower being met with a gnarly scar that adorned him. It looked intense and very painful.

"How'd you get the scar?" Luna ask with no hesitation, making Qimir chuckle lightly, not necessarily out of humor, but rather because of how blunt this young girl was. She had no clue who he was, or the things he have done, yet she held no fear. Not scared to ask him questions.

"What does it look like?," He says coldly, but genuinely asking for her interpretation, turning around slowly with a spoon in his mouth. He leans against the stove, awaiting her answer.

He wasn't insecure about his scar, no quite the opposite. He wore it with pride as he believe that its showed his strength and resilience. However, Qimir wasn't fond of how it reminded him of the ones who betrayed him, broken his trust and disowned him. The people he once called family. Ever since that moment, he has always craved an unbreakable bond. Someone who he could trust, who wouldn't betray him. Someone he could train. An acolyte.

Luna hums, actually taking her time to respond, "Looks like you got stabbed in the back." She says in the gentlest voice, not a trace of malice to be found. Qimir nods softly, affirming her guess.

The air becomes quiet, Luna sensing that this might not be a topic to press.

"How'd you get the fucked up ankle?," Qimir throw the question back at her, unintentionally lightening the mood. Luna smiles, almost forgetting about her stupid avoidable injury.

"I was climbing a tree, then I fell," The girl kept it short, being as vague as he was. Qimir shook his head knowing that there's wayyy more to the story.

climbing a tree huh. As if she can't do that on any other planet. There's something she's not telling.

"What are you, a child? Tell me the real reason," The shirtless man interrogates, his face hardening becoming suspicious of her sudden appearance. For as long as he has been here, no one has visited this lonely planet. What if she actually is with the Jedi.

Luna rolled her eyes at his quip, not appreciating the sudden turning on her. She didn't press on about his suspicious back scar, so why is he pressing about her climbing a tree.

Her eye meet Qimir's dark ones, who stared at her, waiting very patiently for her answer.

Oh, He is not budging. Luna sighs

"That is the truth. I was climbing a tree to get fruit," Luna brings her gaze to her swollen ankle, remembering the whole objective of this mission. She should be heading home right now, a bog full of the fruit, spending their last moments together as mother and daughter. But here she sat in a cave that apparently belong to this strange man of which she shared flirtatious gazes. With a stupid twisted ankle.

Tears threaten to pour from Luna's eyes, but she hold them back due to the company that stood ahead of her. Qimir notices the sudden change in her demeanor, feeling awful as he assumes that he's the one who caused this. The man rushes in her directions, sitting on his knees like previously, placing both of their bowls on the table beside them. Qimir uses his now free hand to place on her knee, rubbing soft soothing circles with his thumb.

Luna sniffles while the warmth of his hand consumes her, in the best possible way. Able to find the strength to continue.

"It's for my mom...S-She has cancer," Luna forces a painful smile, looking to be optimistic. Qimir's heart tugs. He rarely felt sympathy for people. Hell he rather enjoyed seeing others suffer in agony, especially from his hands. But Luna. It felt like a knife to the chest just hearing how her voice trembled.

Luna's full lips trembled, the dam holding her tear failing, streams fall from her dark almond eyes. Qimir freezes in space unsure of what to do. He rarely had contact with other, especially not in such an intimate setting. He panics.

Qimir reaches for her face, his course hand cradling her beautiful face. He holds her like a baby bird, afraid he might crush her with his lack of experience of holding something with such care. Her skin felt like cashmere on his fingers. A part of him wanted to hold her like this forever. Tears continued to fall from her caring eyes and Qimir uses his calloused thumb wipe it. Her eyes finally met his in which led to an intense eye contact. An intense understanding. An intense comfortable stare that causes both of their hearts to race in an unformed pace.

Eventually the sniffling and tears stop as Luna focuses on dealing with the concerning beating of her heart and heat that courses through her body. She brings a hand up, gripping onto Qimir's forearm for stability as if she's not already sitting down.

Qimir feels the trembling of her hand on his arm and pulls away suddenly, breaking the intimate gaze and he is reminded that she still hasn't eaten. Luna lets out a deep breath that she didn't know she was holding, letting her hand fall from his bare arm.

"You need to eat," Qimir brings the bowl back to her. Luna's face scrunches up in the cutest face he has ever seen as she is once again presented with that grossness. Qimir scoops a small bite with the wooden spoon, looking as if he was preparing to feed her himself. Luna raises an eyebrow at him.

There is no way he gonna feed me like a baby after I just got done crying.

"Luna, This is all I have currently and you need to eat so you can heal. So you can get back to your mom," Qimir pleads. Luna stares that the spoon, his words working on her. Starving would not help her. She nods, giving in.

He brings the bowl underneath her chin, the spoon following suit as if in slow motion. Luna's eyes stare up at him with a hint of fear like a little doe. For some reason, that arouses Qimir. The fact that she's afraid of this food and not him.

As the spoon itches towards Luna's thick lips which she begins to part slightly, Qimir finds himself leaning in closer swell. As if she is a siren luring him to his death. The spoon enters her gorgeous mouth, her lips wrapping around the spoon and Qimir can't help but imagine other things going in as well. Luna close her eyes, surprising pleased with what she tastes, a soft moan escaping from her.

Qimir smiles, shaking himself from his trance. He has no clue what has gotten into him. The most dangerous woman was one who didn't know the effects they had on a man. Especially a man like him.

Luna snatche the wooden bowl from the man becoming a Tasmanian devil as she scoops the soup into her mouth.

I knew she'd like It but Jeez, when was the last time this girl ate?

Qimir rose from hit squatted position in front of her, giving her space to enjoy the fish. He saunters off to the cave opening which lead to the ocean pool. It was now dark, the still water reflecting the full moon that shined bright above. The breeze blowing gently causing the temperature to drop drastically from earlier.

Qimir sighed in disappointment, coming to terms with the fact that he missed the opportunity to indulge in a warm, relaxing bath and now has to settle for a cold, chilling one.

“Where are you off to?,” Luna chirps up from inside the bowl that she now licked clean. Qimir leans against the rock of the cave, smiling at her ravenous hunger.

“I was gonna bathe in the pool. Care to join?,” The tall, easily six foot, man flirts not so subtlety. A cheeky grin growing on his face.

Luna freezes mid lick. Eyes shot wide. Unsure if she heard him correctly. She slowly lowers the bowl and gulps.

bathe? with you? don’t mind if i do Qimir.

“I—Uh. I don’t. I—Qim,” Despite the confidence of her words in her head. Nothing coherent comes out. It’s almost like a cork was stuck in her throat.

Luna has experienced flirting before, of course. She’s a beaut. However, she never entertained the ideas that men threw at her. If anything she always found it gross and disorderly. Even with school crushes, though she ‘liked’ them, their advances would make her uncomfortable.

Which is why this experience with Qimir is so…outerworldly. He made her feel things she’s never felt before. He made her STUTTER, when she typically held a true confidence when she spoke.

“Joking. Probably wouldn’t be a good idea to swim with a hurt ankle anyway huh,” Qimir winks. Seeing her react in that way to such vanilla request was wildly entertaining. so innocent

“hehe, right,” Luna forces a soft laugh to try and ease the embarrassment she felt. She felt so dumb for thinking he was actually offering. And she felt so stupid for being unable to form a sentence.

She places the empty bowl on the table beside her, just before a yawn escapes her.

“Well, I think im going to go to sleep,” Qimir pushes off the wall, rushing his way to her to help carry her into the room. That is, Until Luna stops him with a hand, “Don’t worry, i got it. Go enjoy your bath.”

Luna successfully stands up from the lonely cushioned chair, careful to keep pressure off of her foot. She smiles triumphantly at Qimir, showing him that she’s all good, before hopping on her one good foot to the bedroom.

Silence fills the air. A silence that Qimir has come accustomed to after being here alone for so long. But now the silence felt empty.

get it together. she’s just here until she’s healed. don’t get used to it buddy.

Qimir nods at his inner voice, facing back to the pool, preparing himself for his cold bath.

……..

Qimir returns from the pool with his night robe on as he tip toes into the bedroom careful not to wake Luna. Immediately, he notices the girl in his bed, the red duvet covered her bottom just stopping right below her breast. Bringing attention to the fact that she no longer wore her tactical gear, that now decorated the floor. She now only wore her undergarments of a black sphegetti strapped tank top that hugged the roundness of her breasts. The cold draft that enter through the cave entrance clearing hitting her as he nipples stood taut.

Q shakes his head, removing his eyes from the goddess in his bed.

stop being creepy.

The man returns to reality, taking the extra blanket and pillow from the bed to place camp on the floor.

“Qimir? We can share the bed,” Luna’s sleep ridden voice breaks the silence. She was watching him.

He stops making his own doggy bed on the side, staring up straight to look into her eyes, “Are you sure?”

The girl nods, "I trust you," her curly hair that now sat in a messy top bun, followed her nods.

Qimir took in a sharp breath. He hasn’t shared a bed with a woman in years. Too busy with his own endeavors to entertain such activities. So this was…something for him as he climbs into the bed next to her.

They lie face to face, Luna’s eyes fluttering in and out of consciousness. Qimir loses almost two hours of sleep just admiring every detail on her face. Admiring the frizziness of her hair. The curl of her lashes. The soft noises she makes in her rapid eye movement sleep. How she sleeps in fetal position all night. He had to restrain himself from wrapping his arms around her. Cuddling her through the night.

She’s such an angel.

episode iii

[one-green-frog]

Hello! May I request Kanto Mikey with a boyfriend who is very self sacrificial even though he’s not in a gang and one day Mikey’s bf wounds up in the hospital after saving someone from a life threatening incident?

Unspoken Sacrifices

Mikey's normally indifferent manner was shattered as he paced back and forth in the hospital hallway, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. Every second that went by made the knot in his stomach tighten and twist. He hated hospitals—the sterile smell, the quiet hum of machinery, the way time seemed to drag. But today, he hated it even more.

He had never wanted you to get involved. You weren’t like him, weren’t part of his world. That was one of the things he loved about you, your kindness, your warmth, the way you saw the best in people even when they didn’t deserve it. But that same selflessness was what had landed you here, behind the hospital doors that separated him from you.

It had been a normal day, for Mikey at least. You were supposed to meet him for lunch, your treat of course. But then he got the call. A shaky voice hardly explained what had happened before Mikey was already out the door andhe sped toward the hospital on his bike

You’d saved a stranger. That much was clear. You shoved a young child out of the way when a reckless driver lost control of his vehicle as he was about to cross a busy street. You weren't quick enough, even if you saved the child. As those watching shouted for help the car collided with you full force, sending you flying across the pavement with blood pooling beneath you.

Mikey slammed a fist against the wall, the dull thud reverberating down the empty corridor. He should’ve been there. He should’ve stopped it, somehow, should have helped in some way. The idea of you lying on the cold pavement, hurt and bleeding, surrounded by strangers, was enough to make his stomach churn. He wasn’t used to this kind of fear, this helplessness. In his world, when there was a problem, he fought his way through it. But this wasn’t something his fists could fix.

The door creaked open, and a nurse stepped out. Mikey immediately straightened, his piercing gaze locking onto her. “Is he... is he okay?” he asked, his voice low and tense.

The nurse offered a small, timid smile. “He’s stable. The injuries were serious, but the doctors were able to stop the bleeding and set the fractures. He’ll need time to recover, but he’s out of danger for now.”

Mikey exhaled sharply, relief flooding through him so fast he almost felt dizzy. “Can I see him?”

The nurse nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

The sight of you hit him harder than he’d expected. You were lying there, pale and fragile against the stark white sheets, an oxygen mask over your face and thick bandages wrapped around your head. Your arm was in a cast, and bruises bloomed across your skin, cruel reminders of the incident. Mikey’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn’t move.

He pulled a chair up beside your bed, lowering himself into it with more care than he usually showed. His hand hovered over yours, unsure if he should touch you, if he might hurt you somehow. Finally, he rested his hand on top of yours, his fingers trembling slightly.

“You’re an idiot,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Why... why did you have to do that? Why couldn’t you just stay out of it?”

His words were harsh, but his tone was anything but. There was no anger in it, only raw pain and fear. He looked at you, his expression softening as he took in the rise and fall of your chest, the small signs that you were still here, still breathing.

“You don’t even... you don’t even get how much you mean to me, do you?” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve lost so many people, and I’ve been fine with it. I had to be. But you... I don’t think I could live on without you"

He let out a shaky laugh, dragging a hand through his messy blond hair. “You’re not even in a gang, and yet you’re the one in the hospital. That’s just... that’s just you, huh? Always putting everyone else first. Even when it puts you in danger.”

Mikey sat there for a long time, his grip on your hand firm but gentle. He thought about all the times you’d scolded him for being reckless, for taking unnecessary risks. And yet here you were, throwing yourself in harms way

When your eyes finally fluttered open, Mikey shot up, his face lighting up with a mix of relief and concern. “Hey,” he said softly, leaning over you. “Don’t try to move. Just... just rest, okay?”

You smiled weakly, your voice barely audible. “I’m fine, Mikey. Don’t... don’t look so worried...”

He shook his head “You scared the hell out of me,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “just... don’t ever do that again. Please.”

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, your eyes meeting his. “I’m sorry,” you murmured. “But... the child...I couldn’t just stand there.”

Mikey's shoulders were shaking as he put his face against your hand. "I understand," he muttered. “That’s why I love you. But please, for me... just be more careful. I can’t lose you.”

The two of you stayed like that, the weight of what had happened hanging in the air. But for Mikey, all that mattered was that you were still here, still alive. And he silently vowed to do whatever it took to keep it that way.