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abbyslovergirlxo · 4 months ago

Text

Same Damn Time

Caitlyn Kiramman x Reader x Ambessa Medarda

tw; Dom!Ambessa, Dom!Caitlyn, sub!reader, rough sex but they’re not so mean towards the end, wlw, sadism (cait/bessa), choking, slapping (everywhere lol), knife usage, blood kink??,masochism (you🫵) , crying, reader has a mouth on her and then folds (typical😒), idk why i made cait psychotic but oh well, oral, degradation, crumbs of praise lmao, ALL SEXUAL INTERACTION IS CONSENSUAL, I am not someone who writes noncon

Word count: 7.8k

… = time skip

a/n; whewww! like what can I even say, this fic is crazy asl. Like I actually think they’re gonna bring back stoning people just for this. Lowkey deserved. But I know there’s someone out there who’s gonna match my freak 😭 i had tooo much fun writing this while listening to the song, made me think of them 😩lots of tw!! so plz read that before scrolling!!! I feel like this is something you’re either really going to love or really going to hate sooo idk. Also I was literally fixated on Sevika/Ambessa and one edit drove me to madness so here we are, getting double teamed by Commander Kiramman and General Merdarda 😩 They’re both evil twins in this but Caitlyn is the more evil twin but no seriously read the tw…. anyways enough of my my rumbling, this fic is long enough lol.

Your ear shot up, body reacting involuntarily to the large grey door opening. Heavy echoing footsteps, hushed whispers, and then a closed door.

“ This is the one?”

The judgemental tone would’ve sent you spiralling, had you been anywhere else. But menacing glares and sharp words would do little for you here. The lights were dim, unfavorably so, only illuminating distinctly right above your chair that you sat in.

Their voices held unyielding authority. Everyone from topside did to be fair but something about these two gave away their status. Their faces were shielded slightly, your eyes squinting in an attempt to see who they were. That attempt was shot down, the small space of darkness they stood in protecting them.

You cursed yourself for not having been smarter that day, faster. For if you had been, you’d never know what the inside of Stillwater’s interrogation room looked like.

“ Yes, General. My enforcers found her near one of Jinx’s old hideouts. From the items that were taken from her we can safely say this one knows something. She knows Jinx. My men attempted to speak to her a couple of days ago but nothing came of it.”

You thought back to the ‘men’ who questioned you, hammered you with prompts that you refused to answer. The bruises on your back proved how badly they wanted to know but you never relented.

“ I don’t know anything.” A lie. A clear one. Both of the women ignored you, tossing back and forth bits of information. You tugged at the shiny metal cuffs, now wishing you’d taken Vi up on those lock picking lessons. I’m so fucked, you thought to yourself. The room was a bit cold and you weren’t exactly dressed for the occasion when they snatched you. So, somberly you shook a little, giving up on listening to whatever they were saying.

You weren’t going to rat. You knew that much.

Your head was hung when you heard them get closer to you. Not bothering to look up, you heard two chairs groan from being pulled, until they sat down from what you assumed.

“ Name?”

Finally you peered up. Your expression faltered for a second, not expecting the sight in front of you. Their outfits clashed and blended seamlessly all at once. One sat in an all black attire, her long blue hair hanging down. The other was engrossed in clads of gold and red.

Sitting right across from you, they both had menacing glares. Well, the glares you expected. Not quite the faces. Shamefully you imagined seeing them somewhere else, maybe in The Last Drop? The younger, sharp features and pinched eyes, looked at you with a particularly hateful look. That didn’t bother you though, she was as intimidating as the drunk men you’d fought with in the undercity. Pretty though, you thought. The other one was a different story entirely.

She was tall, you could tell from how she towered even sitting down. Something about her was elegant. But she looked dangerous. Growing up it was quite necessary to assess who you could and couldn’t take on, and the moment your eyes locked with hers, you knew. The scars on her face also gave way to what she was capable of. She was a problem, even if her stare wasn’t as heinous as the woman beside her.

“ Name?” She pressed. Her voice was calm but she didn’t look like someone who didn’t know how to raise it.

“ I don’t know anything. I don’t even know who Jinx is.”

The blue haired girl scoffed, clearly unimpressed. Her companion remained analytical of you.

“ You’re a terrible liar.” Her voice came off unforgiving and brutal. You’d be lying (again) if you said you weren’t slightly offended. But you kept a neutral face, ignoring her.

“Listen, this doesn’t have to be rough. How this goes depends entirely on you, you choose. We know you know Jinx. We know that you know something. The information you have is quite important to me,”

The older woman paused for a split second, her stare unwavering and promising. She looked over to the younger one before looking back at you.

“ to us. So we’re leaving this room with something, I can assure you that. But I can also assure you that if you help us, we will help you.”

Her voice was smooth, like wine. Well according to what people say about wine, you’d never had it. She was firm in her words, almost as if she herself knew the power behind her promise. That would’ve reassured you had it not been for the fact that she was after your fucking friends.

You looked between the two of them again, assessing the scene in front of you over and over. You were unimpressed, if you were being honest, something you hadn’t been since these cuffs first touched your wrist. Sure, you could tell they meant business but this was futile as an interrogation tactic.

Good cop, bad cop?

While the older wasn’t exactly nice, you expected a missing eye, pulled nails and burnt skin. What you weren’t expecting was two, unfortunately attractive, topside pigs to do a century old method. If anything they should’ve switched, you thought to yourself.

Maybe then they’d get somewhere.

“ Still don’t know who Jinx is or why I’m here.”

“ You’re lying, again. And protecting a known fanatic and criminal. Tell us where we can find Jinx.”

You furrowed your brows, annoyed with her insults and claims. Who is she to tell you that were lying? Well, you were of course. But regardless, the tone in the blue eyed woman before you made you unsettled.

“ I’m not lying.” You gritted out. “ I’ve been detained wrongfully. You’re wasting your time. I don’t know anything.”

“ Yes, you do.” Her voice was firm, final. You scowled at her, but it was nothing in comparison to how she looked at you. Constantly her jaw flexed, on edge and angry. But she had no right to be angry in your mind, after all you were the one chained to a table being talked at rather than talked to. Secretly you wished for the older woman to speak again, at least she wasn’t such a bitch.

“ Are they your friends? Is that it? Because I promise you that we will find Jinx, it will just be a whole lot messier without your help. I don’t mind that. But I’m sure you will.”

You fought the urge to wipe that domineering tone and look off her face. You’re never going to find Jinx! You’re nothing but a power hungry topsider who doesn’t know the first thing about friends! I’m not telling you shit. Was what you wanted to say. But instead,

“ I don’t know Jinx or whatever else you people plan on asking me. Like I said, you. are. wasting. your. time.”

You put emphasis on each word, tired of repeating yourself. But to your un-satisfaction she rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“ Look… I shouldn’t be here. I can’t give you anything because I don’t kno—“

“ Right.” She cut you off, so obviously tired of your insistent lying, even in the short minutes. “And you’re not an undercity animal.”

“ And you’re not a topside pig.”

In all fairness it came out before you could stop it. You weren’t used to being talked to like this and keeping quiet, it almost came out of pure instinct. But if you were surprised by your words you didn’t show it one bit, a small smile almost playing on your lips.

Her nostrils flared slightly, her breathing elevating. For a moment you thought she’d explode before the other woman spoke.

“ Kiramman.”

You memorized the name, not sure if it’d be useful later once you escaped but just in case. She simply collected herself, nodding at the woman who she called ‘General’. Maybe this is where you went wrong, your natural element slipping out, your ego on its way to arriving.

“ You should learn to control yourself, ya know… during interrogations and such.”

“ Shut your mouth.” It was harsh and whispered. This is when you should’ve stopped but you didn’t.

“ You must be new, since you need a supervisor to help you.”

“ Shut it.”

“ You guys have nothing on me. You’re fucking desperate. I’m n—“

Mistakenly you were so focused on Kiramman that you hadn’t been prepared for the harsh grab of your chin. It was quick, unbelievably fast and that scared you more than anything. The strength of which she used to crush your face also attributed to the pit in your stomach.

“ You’ve chosen miserably.”

Her voice was meaner now, she talked as if you were nothing. Like you were stupid. Instantly you regretted wishing for her presence.

Embarrassingly you struggled against her trying to pry away but it was useless. She effortlessly held you there, your cheeks red with humiliation and anger. You tried to ignore the victorious face planted on Kiramman.

“ She said shut your mouth so you shouldn’t be doing anything but that.”

“ Thought you w-wanted me to talk, which one is it?”

You half expected her to break your jaw or lash out like the woman beside her. Instead she remained calm, eerily calm. Anyone with such strength and patience was someone who got what they wanted. But, you weren’t going to talk, you reminded yourself.

She pulled you closer, not without the rebellious tug from you. Silently she analyzed you, staring into your eyes painstakingly long. You squirmed and averted your gaze. She let you go with a ‘hmph’.

“ She won’t talk, not like this.”

The blue haired girl whipped her head towards her, then back to you, a blue fire blazing in her eyes. From the short time they’d been in the room it was clear the older woman held a higher position, authority oozing from her undoubtedly. But now you noticed something dark about the Kiramman that you should have picked up on before.

She was angry, unreasonably so. There was something constantly threatening to set off inside of her.

“ Everyone talks. There has to be something that’ll make her.”

The General hummed. “ I agree, but not like this. She’s loyal to them and she’s prepared for a cell if not this. She’s attempting to use our anger to distract us. She needs something else.”

The goosebumps from the cold air became accompanied by ones born from anxiety. Your mind went into a dark place, worried you’d never leave Stillwater. What if they starved you? Kept you locked in some cell as your body slowly decayed while you still lived? True fear found its way to you for the first time, the unknown overwhelming.

Kiramman seemed to hold back a sigh, instead taking a moment to actually listen to her superior's words. You couldn’t tell what she was thinking but from the firm nod she let off to the General, you knew it wasn’t in your favor. The grey haired woman stood now, making your heart race. Desperately you tugged at the chain once more, attempting to repeat your overdone line.

“ Look, I really don’t know anything.” Ignored.

The blue haired girl remained seated, leaned back slightly, watching silently as the older woman walked around the table. She walked to you with a certain prowess about her. She was taller than you’d expected, to your dismay. You refused to look at her when she was finally standing beside you, face aimed at the grey table.

You pinched your eyes waiting to be hit, choked maybe, or stabbed if they didn’t mind the mess. Your breathing raised as you tried to silently comfort yourself through whatever pain soon awaited. You held back a flinch when you felt large hands pulling at your chains.

It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. Fuck.

*clink*

You snapped your eyes open, seeing your handcuffs now undone.

“ Stand up.”

You took in a breath, silently grateful that you hadn’t been harmed. You stood now, relieved. At least whatever they were going to do wasn’t happening in the now you thought. You looked towards the giant closed metal door, expecting your arm to be snatched as she led you to your dark cell. But to your surprise she simply spoke again.

“ On the table.”

You looked between the two of them.

You shook your head, not even at them, it just shook. No way in hell were you going to lay down on some metal table while these two psychopaths did whatever they wanted to you. You weren’t exactly happy about the bruises that already resided there, definitely not hoping for extras.

“ …No.”

You hadn’t wished to say it but you couldn’t bring yourself to willingly place your body on that table before they hurt you.

“ You misunderstand the situation. You’ve chosen already. So get on the table.”

You didn’t choose shit. That’s what you wanted to shout, to scream at them until your bones betrayed you. A million emotions rushed through your head, clenching and unclenching your hands. Instead you remained silent and unmoving, your refusal to acknowledge was saying ‘no’ in its own way.

“ Fucking impossible…”

You didn’t even have a moment to react to the words before you were pulled. A grunt left your mouth as your hair was gripped painfully. Anger coursed through you upon seeing the black uniform in your peripheral. You used your now free hands to try and pry her hands from you but she only gripped impossibly tighter, your scalp beginning to burn. She was swifter than you’d imagined she’d be, strong too, grabbing both of your hands with one, pinning them. This somehow was worse than cuffs.

“ Fucki— let me go!”

Ignored. Why did they ignore everything?

“ Where do you want her?”

Her General's eyebrows raised, but you didn’t see surprise. Not even disappointment. Content, maybe? You didn’t put it past her.

“ Let's put her on her back to start.”

She moved without question or affirmation. Irritation was clear across your face now, upset at the stinging that wasn’t letting up on your scalp. But clearly the woman behind you didn’t care, roughly forcing you onto the table. She wasn’t as tall as her companion but she was taller than you and it wasn’t an advantage on your part. The force behind her movements were unsettling, you hadn’t thought she was powerless at first glance, but her grip on you was unnerving compared to what you thought she was capable of.

The cold metal wasn’t welcoming. It felt like a million needles were puncturing your skin causing you to shudder. Your tank top strap had fallen off your shoulder amidst the struggle, close enough to slipping down making you wish your hands were free.

“ Give me her wrist.”

They swiftly transferred your hands, the Generals grip matching hers but you could tell there was more strength to be given behind it. You didn’t want to imagine her really trying to squeeze you. The cuffs you were free from moments ago encased you again, and you didn't miss the two extra notches she clicked causing your bone to shift uncomfortably with the metal. You scowled.

“ It’s too fucking tight.”

Not even a pitied glance, nothing. Ignored. Again. You shifted your wrist again, overwhelmed and upset. And this bitch is still gripping my hair, using her other hand to keep your shoulder on the table casually. So easily, and that made you feel vulnerable, helpless. And your now restrained hands weren’t helping, the slight burn making something in your throat want to creep up but you wouldn’t dare allow it, deciding to instead take it out on them.

“ Let go of my hair, you bi–”

You hissed, the stinging sensation pulsating across your cheek. It wouldn’t leave a bruise but you damn sure felt it.

“ Mind your tongue.”

The General ignored the glare you sent her straight from hell, instead taking off her jacket revealing a dark sleeveless sort of top. You couldn’t begin to imagine or decipher the detailing of it, topsiders always dressed too flashy in your opinion, too stuck up. Her arms were as big as you'd thought. Both being ridiculed with scars.

Then, another sharp crack resounded through the dark room, a quick punishing tug to your scalp. This one would unfortunately leave a bruise. You could tell. You didn’t hiss this time, too stunned, on the verge of groaning from the way she used your hair as a plaything.

“ What she said.”

Kiramman finally let go of your hair, the residue of her strength still pounding through your head. You tried to sit up but she instead used both of her hands to hold you down. With only your legs to move, you kicked but the General shut that down as soon as it started. Effortlessly she used only one hand to keep them pinned down, now looking over you and at Kiramman.

What now? You thought. Cut my skin until I fess up? Break my bones until I don’t have any? Beat me bloody while I lie on this cold table? Are they going to kill me when this is all over, when I don’t say anything? I’m going to die here, aren’t I? I’m going to die and nobody’s gonna know.

It’ll be ok. It’ll be ok. It’ll be ok. I can take it. I can take it.

Eyes suddenly squeezed shut, recited echoes of wishful thinking, a scratchy throat. You braced yourself.

“ Last chance. Tell us where we can find Jinx and I’ll send you back to your cell. Untouched.”

Your voice came out a little exasperated, anxiety and anger laced into it. You kept your eyes shut.

“ I don’t know who Jinx is so I can’t tell you that. I don’t know anything.”

Your shoulder crushed more into the table, pale hands squeezing.

“ You continue to choose stupidity, insolence. No more of that.”

Suddenly the grip on your legs were let go and you opened your eyes. She was still at the head of the table staring down at you. For a moment you considered kicking again but as if she read your mind…

“ Kick me and I will break every bone in your knee.”

Her tone wasn’t intimidating, demeaning absolutely, but not intimidating. The certainty in her voice made you throw away any ideas of using your legs. You liked your knees to say the least. You peered straight up to see an upside version of Kiramman, her long blue hair creating a shadow around her neck, her jawline distinct. Even without seeing her face, only the outline of lips and nose, the anger radiated off her body.

“ What now?”

The General looked over you, straight at her.

“ We’ll need to take her pants off for the next part.”

You and Kiramman spoke at the same time.

“ Wait, what? My pants?” “ Her pants?”

The older woman simply gave a one word reply, meant to supply both of you with a firm answer, ‘yes’.

“ Wait, wait.”

She looked down at you, eyebrows raised.

“ Do you remember something about Jinx? Something you’d like to tell us?”

You listened to the flickering sound coming from the light above you. One by one you let them pop into your head. Jinx, long blue hair and wild face as she hugged you. Vi, stuffing her favorite foodsin your face. Isha, making paper airplanes with you. For a moment you thought a tear might slip but it didn’t. You drew in a shaky breath, ignoring the sting on your wrist.

“ No. I don’t know anything. I just…”

You averted your gaze.

“ Is it going to hurt?”

A stupid question in your mind. No doubt torture hurts. But something in you needed to ask, needing some sort of certainty in what was to come.

“ That depends on you entirely. I’ll give you pain when you give me insolence. But when you give me answers, I’ll give you… ”

She suddenly ghosted a hand over your calf.

“ Relief.”

You shuddered a little, her graze unexpected. But you didn’t dare move your leg, not wanting to test what qualified as a kick to her. You didn’t want to imagine what she meant by relief, because it couldn’t mean that. It couldn’t mean that.

“ How does that sound?”

“ It sounds like I have nothing else to say to you.”

She hummed. Without another word she slipped her large hands in your waistband, pulling them down to your ankles. You wanted them back the second your bare thigh touched the cold metal. A click echoed and you looked to see a blade in her hand, small in size but formidable in design. Gold snakes seemed to embroider its handle. You sucked in a harsh breath at the sight, your eyes locked on it.

Your eyes flicked up at the blue haired woman, her position now changed so that you could see her face again. Her eyes almost beamed? For the first time an expression other than anger displayed itself on her features. Now she looked almost… pleased. Excited.

It’ll be ok. It’ll be ok. I can take it. I can take it. I can take it. Hopefully.

You ignored the last words, watching as the General kept her eyes trained on your plump thighs. Opening them, she traced it right on the inside of it. Immediately you could tell it was sharp. Too sharp. It was cold against your skin, not as harsh as the table but unforgiving nonetheless. Anticipation rushed through you. Hands clenched within its restraints, the light flickering and flickering, her soft hands on your shoulder, icy metal on your skin, her hand slipping onto your thigh and then….

“ Ngnh!”

Your head pressed into the metal slightly. You’d have been embarrassed by your whimper if it wasn’t for the sudden warm drip down your thigh. Blood, you assumed. You’d been through worse but you still squirmed at the cut now adorned on your skin. She pushed down on your thigh, not fond of your squirming. Then she continued, tracing the blade across your thigh, waiting until your body finally relaxed, stopping itself from that state of bracing. And right when you did, she’d swipe a quick line across your shaky, burning legs. Always between your thighs, always.

It felt like electricity was rushing through you, it was all so overwhelming. You felt like you were being swallowed alive and they had barely done anything. The cuts burned and sent a rush of pain through your nerves and skin. Everytime you looked at Kiramman her face was becoming alive with intoxication. It’s like she couldn’t pull her eyes away, trained on the way your leg wobbled under her General’s hand, how you whimpered lowly, the light trace of blood on the expensive blade. You jolted again, particularly harder this time.

“ Relax. It's just a little cut, you're a big girl.”

It continued like this. You tried your best to stifle the whimpers coming from your mouth. The last thing you wanted was for them to hear what they were doing to you. Over and over she painted your thighs with your own crimson, and it hurt. It hurt, it did. And that's all it should be.

But your stomach kept getting that feeling. It burned, like the surface level cuts she gave you. It burned every time her calloused finger swiped across your sliced skin, collecting blood. It burned when she smiled suddenly, as if proud of her work. And it was scalding when you looked up and saw those blue eyes entranced. But it wasn’t pain. It wasn’t…anger. It was something else. Something that made you want to release that feeling in your throat, made you wish she meant something ungodly when she offered relief.

“ What's this?”

Your skin was hot to the touch now, sweaty. Trembling slightly, you looked up at her. For a moment you couldn’t begin to imagine what she was referring to until you traced her eyes. You silently prayed that it wasn’t what you thought. But from the way she asked, you knew.

“ What is it?”

Kiramman asked, curiosity clear in her voice. The older woman smirked, staring down at the wet spot in your panties.

“ It seems her body is more honest than she is. I think our little prisoner likes this. Her panties say so at least.”

Your face burned so hot that it rivaled the sun itself. You considered saying something, protesting and denying it. But what was the point? It did feel good, the burn felt good. And she had the evidence right in front of her. You couldn’t meet either of their gazes, looking to the side in shame. Kiramman laughed, the vibrations reaching you through her touch.

“ I knew it, she was whimpering like a dog. Isn’t that right?”

You shook your head, still refusing to look. But she wasn’t having it, using one of her hands to pull your chin. Even upside down, she looked menacing. She forced eye contact. Her face was rampant with mocking undertones, sadistic glares.

“ Is that why you’ve been so rude? You wanted us to give you a little pain, show you a good time? You really are pathetic.”

“ That’s not tr– n-ngh!”

A stinging pain after a quick slap to your clothed cunt made you whimper louder than anytime the blade touched you. It felt like a live wire tapping your skin, your legs snapping shut. The wet spot in your panties grew, your breathing uneven.

“ Insolence. Tell the truth.”

I can’t. You thought. Telling them that you’d enjoyed it, even a tiny bit, seemed more daunting suddenly than ratting.

“ I’m not ly– f-fuck…”

You weren’t sure if you’d ever be allowed to finish a sentence, her hand opening your legs followed by another slap coming down. Your eyes fluttered for a moment, your face squeezing with pain and pleasure. Kiramman used the hand she never removed to guide you. A smile was now on her lips, wide with genuine amusement.

“ Oh god, did you just… moan? You really are something aren’t you? Is that what it’s going to take? A few more slaps to your cunt and you’ll be blabbering? Or maybe…”

She lowered herself, close enough that her hair brushed against your face. You whined again, another unsuspecting smack from the older woman. You hadn’t even done anything, she just liked the way your panties got damper with each hit. Kiramman almost thanked her for it, relishing in hearing the noise even closer. She whispered to you.

“ If I make you cum enough times you’ll remember something. I bet you’d like that, letting a… what was it that you called me…a topside pig make your cunt cry?”

Finally, you gave way to the ache in your throat. A tear fell down your face suddenly. Another burning sensation forming in your stomach at the feeling of the General toying with the rim of your panties.

“ Please…”

It was quiet, almost matching the decibels of the wind. But you knew she’d heard it. It was obvious from how her grin widened, her eyes looking like ones of a deranged woman.

“ Please what? Please…make me cum? Please…let me go? Please fucking what?”

In this small moment of time, you almost felt like you were watching your dignity physically leave your body. You imagined telling her to let you go, that you didn’t know anything and a few cuts to your legs wasn’t going to change that. And you considered it, over and over. Then something played in your mind, a sick fantasy woven in desperation. In it, you asked her what you really wanted to. And in it they kissed you until you couldn’t breathe, made you finish until you didn’t know how to walk. You considered both. But only one of them made your core ache with desire. Your eyes were even glossier now. Suddenly you were working yourself up for a new kind of courage.

I can take it. I can take it. I can take it.

“ Make me cum please.”

“ Please who?”

I can take it.

“ Please, Kiramman.”

“ That’s it. Finally something coming out of your mouth other than horseshit. But you still need some manners…”

The grip that had left your ears ringing suddenly came back, her pale fingers peeking through your hair. She pulled your head up, forcing you to look at the General. You groaned, arms thrashing slightly, the sting of the metal never relenting.

“ I’m not the only one here. Go ahead, ask General Merdarda too.”

You gritted your teeth. This was already humiliating, and she was just reveling in it. Your legs were already spread, panties damp, dried crimson on your skin, hands bound above your stomach. You’d already asked, multiple times. And now you had to say it again, with a death-like grip on your hair and those hazel eyes peering at you, awaiting.

“ …but I already asked y—“

The slap was even stronger this time , the force of it driving your body insane. Merdarda grinned at you, even laughing a little at the noise you made. Another tear fell down your cheek but Kiramman was quick to wipe it. Right before she licked her finger.

“ But you didn’t ask me.”

If she slapped your cunt again you’d probably start grinding against the table, somehow making you look more pathetic than you do right now. So you gave in.

“ P-Please General Merdarda, will…”

I’m never speaking about this if I get out of here.

“…Will you please make me cum?”

“ Well would you look at that, that’s all you had to say little one. But what do we get in return? Surely you can’t expect us to make you cum with nothing given back.”

“ …But…I already said I don’t know anything.”

Kiramman scoffed.

“ Even after you soak your panties from a little cut, you still have the ability to lie. I’m almost impressed.”

She let your head drop back onto the table.

“ Almost.”

….

For a second you thought she’d kiss them.

At first glance it seemed so, her soft lips trailed over the red raised wounds, her nose spilling cold air on them. You reveled in it, an ember threatening to go a blaze within you. That was until she nipped at it, a hiss leaving your mouth. You couldn’t see her smile but you felt it sweeping across the throbbing skin. You cursed under your breath, the force behind her bite growing more rabid. She slapped the thigh she wasn’t ravaging, quick and harsh.

“ You like that, don’t you?”

There that voice was again, smooth and sultry. You weren’t sure if she was referencing the strike on your leg or her roaming fingers but murmured yes anyway. Yes to all of it. She had your shirt hitched up, breast exposed. Every once and awhile she’d toy with them, trace an outline around your nipple, wait and then pinch. So often though she found herself distracted, your features giving away how desperate you were.

Merdarda found enjoyment in watching your contort every time Kiramman did something to you, anything to you really. You were like a tight coiled spring, threatening to snap at any given moment. It's like every touch has you ready to risk everything. And you learned quickly they were into this a little more than you, mania clear across their faces. You were trembling, Kiramman taking advantage of how sensitive your legs were.

“ C’mere.”

You felt a little dizzy, seeing her lift her head up from between your legs. She grabbed your cuffed hands, pulling you up to meet her face. It all happened so fast and you winced from the strain in your shoulders. She was closer now and it was just now that you noticed the traces of blood on her lips. You hadn’t expected a kiss this time around, but it happened. It wasn’t gentle, if anything it felt like she was trying to cannibalize you with her tongue. Shamefully you pushed against her, sick to your stomach at how good she tasted. Hints of copper on your tastebuds, her wandering hands. She pulled back, being sure to bite your lip before doing so.

“ You taste that? It’s you.”

She dropped her eyes to your thighs, licking over her lips once more. A trance almost seemed to describe the hunger behind her stare, but you couldn’t be sure. You didn’t care either way, you just wanted her to do whatever was on her mind to you and soon.

“ fucking delicious.”

The whispered lust in her voice rivaled the reaction brought out from Medardas heavy hands.

“ You should taste her General. She’s sweeter than that filthy mouth of hers.”

Wordlessly, she captured your lips next. Her movements were more experienced, methodical and you felt as though you melted into her due to it. Ruby lipstick smeared onto you, a groan slipping from her as she made sure to taste everything you had to offer. The metallic tinge on her tongue made her pull in deeper. You whimpered, dizzy from lack of breath and insatiable roaming hands.By the time she pulled away your eyes were low, an unfocused look about you.

“ I wonder if her cunt tastes even better.”

Kiramman smiled sickly to herself, her gapped teeth giving you a warm tinge to your cheek.

“ We’ll know soon enough.”

….

Your wrist were nearly rubbed raw with all the thrashing you were doing. Time and time again you made attempts to close those abused legs of yours, in hopes of protecting your cunt. Unfortunately, Kiramman wasn’t pleased and she slapped it raw until you cried enough apologies. She mumbled something along the lines of ‘can’t be stupid and greedy’. But you somehow continued to be prove to be both, whining endlessly about the torture of her tongue. She never let up though, only unlatching from you to say obscene things or mark up your poor legs.

It seemed the pair held similar views, sick desires. Medarda would litter your neck and breast with purple marks shamelessly. She smelled of some expensive plant you’d never heard of, all you knew was that it made you whimper everytime her skin was pressed onto yours. She’d whisper siren-like words to you, etched in sin, rough kisses between them all. And yet you drank them into your ears like milk and honey.

“ You just came, didn’t you? Nasty girl.”

“ Do you remember anything now, hm?”

“ Don’t be so dramatic, keep your legs open for her.”

“ You must spread yourself open often. You’re a natural.”

“ Your cunts almost as noisy as you, dear.”

And when her tongue wasn’t making you drip onto the table, Kirammans words were just as wicked, if not more. Her posh accent was a coverup for all the nefarious things laced into it. A very, very poor coverup.

“ I said— keep. them. open. Unless you need a second pair of cuffs? … No? Then fucking listen.”

“ Go on, you can cry. I know it feels good. Yes filthy girl…just like that. ”

“ You’ve made a mess. Say you're sorry.”

“ Quit it, you can get a break when you remember something.”

“ Don’t act so sweet now— had quite a lot to say earlier. Isn’t that right?”

This was wrong, every bit of it. There was nothing exactly right about two high ranking officers of Piltover and Noxus eating you alive in the depths of Stillwater. The thought alone should send you running. It should have you drinking hot flashes of anger, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. But it didn’t. It only made you spread your legs wider and beg shamefully for more kisses.

It all felt so good. They felt so good and a redeemable, rational part of you hated that. But every time rationality tried to sink itself into you, Commander Kiramman and General Merdarda were right there to sink into you faster. And by god, they made you feel more full than any morale.

You were so sure you were going to die before. And that thought that hadn’t been removed just yet, except now you thought you’d pass away from all the onslaught orgasms caused by the ravenous women beside and inside you.

“ a—angh! oh god…pl–please”

Kiramman held back a sly smile, seeing the way you twitched, body so sensitive. Her fingers were drenched with you, now gloveless. Initially her signature black gloves dug inside of you but the minute she tasted you she knew she didn’t want it anywhere but on her skin. Quite roughly, she had pulled three orgasms, somehow each one more intense than the last. But that wasn’t enough, not to them. Nothing was enough until those pretty lips whimpered something they could actually report back. And even then she wasn’t sure she’d want to stop.

“ Are you going to make a mess again for us?”

Pathetically, you fought back the white of your eyes before looking down at her. She couldn’t help but grip your thighs tighter at your teary face, nodding exhaustingly down at her. Medarda kept you slightly upright, your back arching into her bicep while she sucked on your breast. Honestly she hadn’t a clue how long she’d been at it but by the rate she was going you’d look a fucked out mosaic by the time they were done. She laughed to herself but you knew it was at you. And that fact only made you rut against the table more.

“ This is going to be your fourth one dear. We’re never going to leave this room if you keep being so stubborn.”

She trailed her kisses up your chest. A peck here and a peck there. The slow ascend of her affections compared to the rapid thrust of the others fingers made you bite your lip, the skin pulling between your teeth. By the time she was up to your ear you were practically panting.

“ Or is that what you want? For us to keep making you cry until you can’t anymore?”

They’d never know it and thank god for that but you almost whispered a yes.

Kiramman couldn’t hear what was spoken but she definitely felt it. You clenched around her even harder, a long mewl spilling from you. She creased her blue brows slightly as she sped up her fingers, making sure to never be gentle with that special spot, secretly itching to hear just how loud you could get whenever you came. Her counterpart was just as wanting for it out of you, a more balanced desire about her. Even in spite of the way she pulled you in for another kiss when she heard you sob, “ ‘m s-so close..”

This time Kiramman both felt and heard it, her fingers happily accepting the tight squeeze of you. She latched back onto your clit which was practically begging to be consumed again, if you asked her. Immediately you tensed, using every ounce of self restraint to not slam her cheeks with your legs. It also got devastatingly hard to keep up with Medarda’s mouth, she pressed into you like she forgot you needed air, like you only needed them. And as the coil in your belly grew and the sloppy sounds of her eating away filled the room, you did need them.

A muffled moan ricocheted into Merdarda and she invited it wholeheartedly. When she finally pulled away, you used your bound hands to grab at her hand groping you. You squeezed it the second you felt Kiramman offer a grunt inside of your cunt. She licked you like she was rabid, lost in whatever drugs your pussy clearly had laced in it. Merdarda found it all so nasty, so amusing. Seeing the renowned Caitlyn Kiramman so cruel but so feral, and you with your slick mouth gone and lips swollen, made her clench around nothing.

Even if nobody in the room spoke it, you were all enjoying this ‘interrogation’ a little too much. That manic laughter that constantly filled Kirammans head, those stupid pigtails and flashy gadgets, had even subsided for a moment. She still wanted nothing more than to rip that smile off her face, but the way the tears journeyed down your face so easily made her want something more.

Right now all she wanted was for you to cum on her face, and she nearly keeled over when she finally heard you sing that song for her. A moan that could only be replicated in the best whorehouses of Zaun left you. The pair both smiled the moment they heard you whimper what they already knew.

“ i th—‘m gonn—“

You could barely manage a single word, back practically ingraining itself in her arm the way you arched over it.

“ Let it out, make a mess.”

Your body truly was more honest than you and clearly obedient because the second she said it you did. Your self restraint abandoned you, left you on that table shaking and crying. Your bruised legs kissed her cheeks (not so gently) as she ate and thrusted at the same pace she did before, never letting up. Even with your legs shaking and around her she just drove in deeper. The pleasure slipped into overdrive making you shake your head, trying your best to pull away, use your hands, anything to make her stop. But Merdarda snatched your cuffed hands.

“ kira—kirammannn!”

Wow, that’s the only time she’s heard her last name and wanted to hear it more. But she ignored you, knowing you were begging for her to stop. By now your legs had dropped, too weak to hold up. Your whole body practically vibrated as you lost your breath. Maybe it was the burning sensation ripping through you or the cotton in your head but you stupidly turned your head to look up at Medarda.

“ help…me…gonna fu— die!”

First she looked at you, toyed with your nipple as your hands fought against hers. So pretty and so pathetic, she thought. Then looked down at Kiramman, whose eyes now opened and met hers. An amused glint was in her blue tinted stare and suddenly Medarda couldn’t think of a single reason she’d help you.

“ She’s eating child, don’t be so rude. Have some manners.”

She was looking at you when she said it, but from the mockery in her tone you knew it was meant for more than just you. And it was confirmed when a smile traced itself onto your throbbing cunt. But it quickly went away. She was eating after all.

“ i canttt! pleasee!”

Kiramman didn’t stop until you went silent, unable to speak, inconsistent babbles of nonsense here and there. You weren’t even shaking now, just twitching and breathing like the oxygen in the room had been sucked out. When she finally got up from between your legs she couldn’t help herself and gave two quick bites. A strangle mix of a hiss and moan could be heard as you watched her stand. She lifted her fingers to your mouth, shoving them inside.

You expected her to be rough and jam them down your throat but to your surprise she simply swirled them around your mouth. Despite that voice in your head you sucked at them tiredly hoping to please them. And pleased they were. They both watched as you weakly licked her fingers clean. By the time she pulled away they both knew that previous orgasm just couldn’t be the last.

“ Do you remember anything now?”

You were fucked out, but not that fucked out.

“…no”

Thank god, they both thought in unison.

“ I guess it’s my turn then.”

…

BONUS

Kiramman walked with pure candor on her face. She heard the whispers as she walked past but she ignored them. What was the point in entertaining fools? Besides, the moment her eyes met theirs they always went silent. Always. Today hadn’t been the best day for her. Most days weren’t, hunting for that psycho and her friends wasn’t an easy job or a fun one. But she wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Well…maybe someone else…

“ Don’t let anyone in.”

The guard nodded dutifully.

By the time she reached the room, she was already imagining her sweet song. She didn’t have to wait long to hear it in person because it was practically blasting throughout the room the moment the door opened. She closed the door behind her, smiling deviously as she placed her heavy cape onto the chair.

“ She’s even wetter today, if you can believe it.”

She laughed softly, “ Oh I can believe it. How many has she got so far?”

“ Just two. Don’t worry, you didn’t take too long.”

“ God, I know. I got caught up with that fool Salo.”

Medarda laughed now, knowing all too well how annoying he could be.

“ medardaaa”

Your toes curled, struggling to handle the two large fingers inside of you. Both were devastatingly skilled with their fingers but hers were undoubtedly bigger. Way bigger. And if the size wasn’t agonizing enough, she was hitting that spot over and over. This time your hands were free, and you used them to grip her bicep.

Suddenly your throat had a new necklace. Not a very nice one. She squeezed her free hand around your throat, speeding her fingers. Clearly she wasn’t a fan of your interruption, despite the way her cunt ached when she heard her name in such a filthy way.

“ Can’t you see us talking? And you didn’t even greet your Commander. She came all this way to see you.”

You thought you were going to pass out, the squelching sounds and sultry insults becoming distant. Your mind and body gave into her once the resisting clearly wasn’t doing anything. And you loved it. Each filthy posh coated word, lingering touch, rushed collided lips left you undone. The strength behind their hands made you want to never be without it. And for the past two weeks it continued to, leaving you right here in this room on this desk, unable to breath, only able to cry and spread your legs wider.

Medarda let go, allowing Kiramman to finally slip beside you. As much as she loved the song you offered, she wanted your lips. You gasped into her, them giving you no time to actually catch a breath between the transfer. Lightheaded, you still pushed against her, wetness dripping from your face to hers. She pulled away, licked the rogue tear from the corner of your mouth.

By the time she was looking at you, you were heaving, clasping onto her bicep instead of Medardas now. She watched with such marvel as your face contorted into those beautiful expressions, such a drastic difference from the stupid girl she interrogated. Logically she knew she couldn’t call what all of you were doing an interrogation. So she opted to saying ‘some investigating work’ the few times someone inquired about her abrupt departures. It wasn’t a complete lie, her and Medarda were investigating something every couple of days. your cunt

Her gaze traced to the brown fingers moving in and out of you, then to glisten on her General's hand and finally to your thighs. They were healing nicely. Unfortunately for her they wouldn’t leave a scar according to the doctor she took you to. She almost frowned at the thought.

But then she heard you whisper a quick, “ h-hi Kiramman…”

She smiled at you, a warm thought coming to her.

“ Hi, filthy girl.”

We’ll make sure they scar next time.

P.s. They had the officers who beat you killed 😜

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punishereditz · 4 months ago

Text

The Hunt

Pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x f!reader

Warnings: 18 plus only! Minors DNI! DO NOT COPY! Primal play. Chasing. Sort of fear kink? Ripping clothes. Bondage. Praise kink. Dirty talk. Claiming kink. Oral (f receiving). Marking. Biting. P in V. Unprotected sex. Rough sex. Choking. Overestimation.

AN: Raw. Next question.

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: When Sergei learns your darkest desire, he makes it come true. Becoming his next hunt.... Run.

Goosebumps crept up your skin. Leaving a shaky breath to escape your lips. You didn't know how you got here, but you were so happy you were, despite the fear. The fear that was consuming you right now. Filling every inch of your body. The fear... the adrenaline... the lust. All of it was on overdrive. The thoughts of Sergei fulfilling your desires. Your darkest desires. How your little secrets of kinks came out for him to know, you don't know. But you couldn't think about how he knew. All you could think about was how he was actually for it. How he came up behind you. His body towering over yours.

His presence making your heart rate spike and your body tense. The cold bite to the air didn't help with the tension in your body. Or how everything was eerily quiet except for the faint sound of the wind and the sound of howling in the long distance. How the darkness of the night perfectly hid everything. The only reason you know he's behind you is because of the sudden heat. His hand slowly traced up your arm, stopping at your shoulder. He leaned in until his lips were only mere inches from your ear. His closeness making another shiver run up your body.

"I'll give you a five-minute head start. Run." He growled and you quickly took off. Your feet were leading you faster than you could process. One foot in front of the other. You ran as fast as you could. Arms stretched out to make sure you didn't hit anything along the way. Jumping over or moving around branches and holes. Trying to navigate as best as you could through the dark night.

Your breath getting heavier with each step. The smell of pine and oak filling your nose. Leafs and sticks breaking and crunching under your feet. The sound of nature and your hammering heart was all you could hear. You thought your heart could pound right out of chest. The loud hammering overwhelming. But not as overwhelming as the fear. The desire that was growing. The adrenaline that was getting higher. The thoughts of him hunting you. Chasing you. Trapping you once he catches you. The thought of you being his prey, while he was the predator, it gave you a rush. It made the wetness between your legs grow. It made you wild. A wild animal soon to be unleashed to chase after you. Time felt slow for you. You felt you have been running forever.

But for him? The time was nothing. The five minutes felt like seconds. The smell of your arousal filling his nostrils. The sound of your heart hammering. The fear coursing through you... he sensed it all. Making his cock strain in his pants. His control to slip. But as he saw the time was up, so he let go of all control. He ran on all fours at an inhuman speed. Tracking your scent. It only took him a few seconds to catch up to you. Tackling you to the ground. Careful to not hurt you. He pinned your arms above your head. His legs on either side of your hips. Keeping in place despite the wiggling and fight you were trying to put up.

Your actions halting and your breath catching as you saw his glowing gold eyes staring down at you with a hunger that both scared you and turned you on. "You're mine now." He growled as he loomed over you. His hand going down to your shirt. Ripping it open. Buttons flying. Your gasp quickly turning to a moan as his fingers circled over your nipple. Gently twisting and pinching. Your back arching off of the cold ground. Your chest rising and falling with each heaving breath.

"Stop fighting. Or do like that? Huh? You like trying to fight me princess?" The struggle was no use. You were trapped. You were his now. That meant you weren't going anywhere.

"Look at you. Putting in so much effort." He chuckled lowly. His hands leaving you. Slowly removing his belt. He grabbed your hands. Using his belt to tie your hands together.

"Are you going to be my good girl to use?"

"Yes." You stuttered and frantically nodded.

"Do you know what happens when I catch my prey?" You shook your head. The longer he took to answer, the more your fear and arousal grew.

"I like to play with them." He whispered in your ear. A chill running through your body and your back arching in anticipation.

His lips grazed down your neck. Over your collarbone and down your chest. Reaching your stomach, he grabbed your pants, pulling them down and tossing them over his shoulder. He smiled at the sight and quickly tore your underwear. The cold air hitting your core and making you gasp. He took his jacket off, placing it under you so you had something to lay on. Then he settled between your legs. Leaving gentle kisses along your thighs. His lips and tongue trailing along your skin. Feeling and tasting every inch of you. But the sweet and gentleness wasn't going to last much longer.

His teeth nipped at your thigh. A whine leaving your lips. He lowly chuckled and bit again. Leaving bite marks all along your thighs. Sucking at the skin and running his tongue over the fresh marks to soothe it. Then he hovered his lips over the spot you so desperately wanted him. Inhaling deeply. Taking in the scent of your wet pussy. His cock twitching in response to the wetness he knew he caused. If you smelt this good, he could only imagine how you'd taste. He licked a stripe up your lips, and he growled at the taste. "Fuck, princess... you're fucking delicious." He mumbled lowly into your skin before he wrapped his lips around your clit. Gently sucking.

Swirling his tongue around your clit. Making your legs shake. He wrapped his arms around your thighs. His hands resting on your hips. Holding you down. Keeping your movements still. His strength keeping you place, despite how you tried to wiggle. How your back arched and your moans got louder. Your tied hands above your head gripping at the ground. Desperately trying to catch your breath. But you couldn't. He quickened his speed on your clit. Leaving you breathless and on the edge. Your orgasm slowly building. Your stomach tightening and your head spinning. Your clit growing more and more sensitive with each stride of his tongue. "Look at me." You did as he said and was met with golden eyes. A dangerous stare that only sent you closer to the edge. The sight of him eating you like it was his last meal. Eating you like you were the most delicious meal he's ever had. Staring at you like a wild animal finally feasting on its prey after catching it.

His name fell from your lips with a loud shout. Your body trembling and shaking as your climax hit you. His tongue carefully helping you ride out your orgasm. Your shaky body finally relaxing. He raised up. Licking his lips. Staring down at you. "Such a good girl for me. And taste so fucking good. So sweet."

He grabbed your waist. Turning you over so you laid on your stomach. Pulling your hips up so your ass was in the air for him. He untied one of your hands, pulling your arms behind your back and retying them. His hands coming down to rub and massage over your ass. Gripping it in his hands. He gave your ass a good slap before he quickly started unzipping his pants. Pulling them down enough to free his hard cock. Taking his hand to collect the pre-cum from the tip and using it to lub his cock. Stroking it a few times, he ran his cock along your wet cunt before he brought it to your entrance. Pushing the tip in. His fingers dung into your hips and he groaned. Giving you a moment to adjust to his size, he slowly pushed it in further. Your walls clenching around him.

"That's it. Take every inch of my cock." He grabbed your bondage hands. Using them to hold onto as he slowly pulled out. Then slamming his cock back in. Your loud whines perfectly syncing with his low grunts as he started to fuck you. Thrusting into you harshly. His hips slamming against your ass. The sound of your skin slapping together filling the forest. Each thrust getting faster and harder than the last. Your walls clenching tightly around him. His cock throbbing and twitching in response. It was all too good for him. Having you bent over at his mercy taking his cock so well. He wanted to come undone, but he kept himself together because he wanted to absolutely wreck you. He wants to absolutely ruin you and use you until you finally have to beg him to stop.

And he knew he had you right where you needed to be when your second climax hit you. Hitting you even harder than the first one. Shouting his name and collapsing under him. But he didn't stop. He didn't slow. He grabbed your hair and pounded into your cunt until you were coming on his cock all over again. He pulled out. Grabbing you up and he sat down on the ground. Pulling you on top of him. With your back to him, he pushed his cock back in. One hand going to your throat and the other going down to your clit. "Be a good girl and ride my dick."

You started bouncing on his cock. But not being able to do it for long. Finding yourself weak. So, he helped you. Thrusting up into you. Rubbing fast circles on your clit. His hand squeezing a little tighter around your neck. "I'm going to fill this pretty little cunt up." His words made yet another orgasm sneak up on you. His own orgasm hitting him. His cock twitched and he choked you harder as he came. A growl leaving his lips as he filled your cunt up with his seed. Riding the both of you off of your climax's. He left lazy kisses on your shoulder and neck. Stopping at your ear.

"I'll give you a five-minute head start. Run princess."

#sergei kravinoff #sergei kravinoff smut #kraven the hunter #kraven the hunter smut #kraven the hunter x reader #kraven x reader #kraven #kraven smut #kraven movie #aaron taylor johnson #one shot #smut oneshot #smut #fanfics #fan fiction

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bluecookies02 · 5 months ago

Text

Sub!Viktor x Reader

content warnings: NSFW, choking & edging (Viktor receiving), oral (reader receiving), he whines until you sit on his face basically.

very romantic and intimate despite a person literally being choked but yk its rly not my fault, it's his. [established relationship]

word count: ~1.5k

"You're being too loud Vik...can't keep it down hm?"

"Please....if we get another noise complaint I'm never ever gonna forgive you." he begs as you pause to let him talk.

It's an empty threat, but you need to take some accountability for your cruelty. You've been toying with him for ages at this point, reducing him to surprised yelps and desperate whines that are truly a symphony to your ears. To your neighbors? Not so much.

And you're everything if not merciful. Depending on who's asked of course.

You place your thumb across his chapped lips and dip the soft pad of your finger inside, dragging it gently across his teeth and gums before he gives you an appreciative hum, opening his mouth and nestling his tongue in place.

The adoration in your eyes is beautifully suffocating, his hips trashing against your other hand, chasing it, running away from it...all at once. He has been at your will for this whole night. He might die...at least that's how it feels.

You start up again, with no rush, often stopping to glide your hand and mouth across his freckled skin, soothing his trembles with sweet and mellow words whispered into his ear.

He feels...indecent. Drooling around your hand like that, muffling his moans with your thumb, biting and nibbling on it. You just sway it with the eager suckles of his tongue, sometimes even pressing on it firmly, letting his mouth hang open, spit smearing across his face.

He's teary eyed, overwhelmed yet hungry. Your voice pelts off of his sensitive neck...trails down his spine and spreads through his ribcage.

Warmth swirls inside his stomach, and for a moment it's scorching hot until he himself melts with it, pushing your pruney finger to the corner of his lips...he whines.

His face falls to the crook of your neck, burying itself there. You carefully lace your fingers through his soft hair, your pace on him just a fraction quicker.

You place a kiss to the shell of his ear, nuzzling the side of his head.

"You're right there aren't you...Need a little more?" you ask, your voice laced with affection, your movements consistent and precise.

"No-ah, no...just like this. Please...please just..." you nod, shuddering at the gentle bite on your shoulder.

"Allright, I've got you. Whatever you need..."

"Keep talkinghh."

It's a bossy demand, muffled because it's quickly cut off by another bite into your skin. The sunlight that peeks through the blinds paints his pale body in liquid gold, a pretty shade a fraction lighter than his eyes.

"You're so precious to me Vik...made for me are you not?" You can feel him throb, you can feel the heat of his body...ears dusted red, fingertips scraping down your back. Your heart hammers in your chest, anticipation building as you watch him.

"Show me how beautiful you are for me...Can you do that?" you ask in that honeyed voice of yours, raspy with your own greedy desire.

You tug on his hair, and he lets you pull him out of his hiding, your faces now close. He can feel your breath tickling his face.

"Let me see..." and when you ask so nicely, so honestly...how can he deny you anything, how can he doubt anything when the emotions that surge through him as your eyes lock leave no room for such a silly thing.

So he lets himself unfold, lets you see him in his most vulnerable, eyes clouded with unshed tears, brows furrowed and mouth agape.

You place your hand on his bared throat, squeezing around it, firm and practiced, holding it there until his eyes become slightly unfocused and wide.

He falls apart for you, gasping and chocking up on his words as he starts spilling onto your hand, curling in on himself in ways he can't be convinced are attractive.

"Yes precious, just like that, don't be shy" you encourage, letting him fuck your hand thoroughly, giving every last ounce of his strength to you, for you.

You let go of his throat then, just a second before he's about to tap your wrist.

He has to slap his hand over his mouth instead, and then the other, shuddering and crying into it as he rides out the last waves of his release, his tummy clenching and flexing as his whole torso heaves.

"You're fucking perfect..." you mumble, as if in trance with every tremble of his lithe body.

He finally stills, now fighting for air and clutching at his chest as he urges himself to calm his breathing down. You sooth him, moving your hand to pet at his back, quickly wiping the other before using it to push the strands of sticky hair out of his face.

His ears are buzzing for a moment, before he finally sighs and then gulps a big breath. He tries to speak up but his sore throat doesn't let him, voice cracking.

"Do you need a drink? Or do you need to cough? Please don't be embarrassed" you say this as you pet his cheek, searching his face.

He shakes his head no before he clears the lump from his throat, finding his voice again.

"No...I'm allright , thank you." he gets off of your lap slowly, stretching his legs before repositioning himself on the pillows, pulling you by the hand to follow him.

When you crawl with him...on top of him, he has to swallow dryly again, eyes eagerly eating at you, at every curve of your body that he hasn't seen for a hot second there.

"You have a way with words dear..." he complains, smoothing his palms over your hips.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. Makes me feel all exposed...It's not fair...Especially when you don't give me a fighting chance."

You hum.

"Outside of this, you're the more eloquent one, I think the dynamic is quite balanced"

"Hmh...If you say so." he pretends to glance away, but his arm wraps around the small of your back, making you sit higher on his chest.

"Maybe my words are excessive in this part of our 'dynamic'...l have other redeeming qualities I hope."

You chuckle, looking down at him, his dark, hungry eyes piercing yours, cheeks still a tiny bit flushed under your attention.

"Absolutely..." you confirm, yet you refuse to fall under the faint pressure of his arm on your back.

You are playing coy, and his mouth is already salivating. How cruel.

He rolls his eyes, scoffing.

"Let me show you anyways…” he says, soft yet bashful.

"Maybe if you say please one more time for me, I'll indulge"

"I think I begged enough, no?" he concurs, spreading his hands over your thighs, squeezing briefly before he slides a skilled hand between your legs. He spreads your soaked folds apart, marveling at the sheer amount of wetness that leathers his palm.

"Gave you everything you asked for...let you ruin me however you desired..." he trails off, slowly becoming a tiny bit frustrated.

You stammer as his long fingers easily glide inside you with little to no resistance. Your clit throbs as he bends to give it a quick, wet kiss, peering up at you expectantly as he fills you with slow, deep strokes.

"Come here.” he whispers, adjusting himself under you, a firm arm pulling you down on his pretty face. You let him.

There's a sigh of gratification at the first thick taste he swallows down, coating his throat with you, tongue nestled in with his digits and then he laps.

Loud and filthy. Like you've starved him for months.

You admit defeat, grabbing at the roots of his messy hair with your hand.

You bear down against his mouth, nice and slow until you have almost all of your weight on him. Just how you know he craves it.

His lashes flutter and his eyes roll to the back of his head, legs bending at the knees.

A stifled hiss comes from under you and then a barely coherent blasphemy reaches your ears.

"Ushg my face. Pleahse…"

And how can one refuse...

Posts this draft and runs 🏃‍♀️‍➡️

Might make a sequel if I get bullied enough. But i might not resist smushing my man jayce in here. Thread carefully.

Hope you enjoyed. Mwah🩵

#arcane #viktor x reader #viktor machine herald #viktor league of legends #viktor arcane #viktor lol #viktor nation #i offer you sub viktor as god intended him to be #jayce x viktor

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homunculus-argument · 1 year ago

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fantasy author: But hear this. What if vikings. readers: [perk one ear, cautiously] fantasy author: But they're not historically accurate. Just the cool stuff without any of the slavery and pillaging. readers: [slowly peering out of the shadows] fantasy author: Just cool runes carved onto big-ass axes and battle hammers, braided beards and being tough as shit but also like, super organised and surprisingly high-tech for their age. readers: [distrusting, but approaching gingerly] fantasy author: Like super into war but also merchants. Showing up with goods like "yo are you here to trade or are we here to raid." Can run a bank and trade in gold but also fuck you up on a battlefield like that's their whole job. readers: [warily sniffing author's hand] fantasy author: And they're short as shit and live INSIDE MOUNTAINS! readers, suddenly delighted: DWARFS DWARFS DWARFS DWARFS

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holyblonded · 13 days ago

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new beginnings | something blue

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader, olga rios x teen!reader

summary: your whole life is uprooted after one fall

warnings: deadbeat and neglectful parents, arguments

notes: new series!! i am actually very excited for this one so hope y’all like it. also this is a longer one!!

You pant as the stadium lights blaze down on you, illuminating the slick, rain-soaked pitch. Your lungs burn, your legs ache, but you don’t stop moving— you can’t.

The air is thick with the scent of wet grass and sweat, and the roar of the student section vibrates through your chest, deafening, chaotic. You hear the distant pounding of the drumline, the frantic voices of your coach and teammates shouting instructions, but it all blurs together. White noise.

The scoreboard looms above, flashing 1-1, with the clock winding down. Your heart hammers against your ribs. If the streak ends here, you will never forgive yourself.

A messy clearance sends the ball bouncing, fast, unpredictable, through the center of the pitch. It ricochets off a defender’s shin and lands in your path, a gift wrapped in chaos.

For a split second, everything slows. The world shrinks to you, the ball, and the goal. You barely think. You don’t have time to. Instinct takes over.

With one touch, you push it forward, just enough to create space. A defender lunges in, too late. You see the keeper off their line—hesitating, shifting their weight, waiting for a pass that isn’t coming.

You pull back your leg and strike. The ball rockets off your foot, slicing through the air like a missile. You know it’s good the moment you hit it. The sound— that perfect, crisp contact rings in your ears.

The crowd collectively gasps. It climbs, spinning, curving then dipping, impossibly fast. The keeper scrambles, their hands stretching, but it’s a second too late.

The net ripples and for a second, there’s nothing. Silence. A breath held by thousands.

The stadium erupts. Your name is swallowed by the cheers, by the stomping of feet, by the chaos of bodies surging toward you. Your teammates crash into you, arms around your shoulders, voices wild in your ears. Someone grabs your face, shaking you, yelling words you can’t even process.

The scoreboard flashes 2-1. The final whistle blows. You did it. The streak lives as does your pride.

After the game, the celebration carries into the locker room, shouting, laughter, the slamming of lockers, the sharp scent of sweat and victory. You let yourself bask in it, let yourself feel it. The thrill, the relief, the high of it all.

By the time you step outside, your friends are waiting for you, still buzzing with excitement.

“That was insane!”

“Goal of the season, easy.”

“You’re a legend.”

They throw their arms around you, ruffling your damp hair, laughing, their eyes alight with pride. You try to brush it off, but their energy is contagious.

For a moment, everything is good. Eventually, one by one, they leave, disappearing into the night. The celebration fades. The stadium empties. The high starts to wear off.

And like always, you do what you’ve done after every game.

You take a slow walk along the stands, scanning the seats. Searching. Hoping.

The lights above hum, buzzing faintly in the quiet. The student section is empty now, just rows of vacant bleachers, puddles reflecting the glow of the floodlights. Your gaze drifts over every seat, your breath shallow. Maybe this time.

But the stands are empty. No familiar faces. No one waiting for you. Just like always.

You exhale, pressing your lips together. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. You won. That should be enough. But the ache in your chest says otherwise.

The sun is dipping lower in the sky, staining the clouds gold and pink as practice stretches into the evening. The scrimmage has turned playful, full of taunts and laughter, the kind of session where the intensity is still there but the pressure isn’t crushing. It’s just fun… until it isn’t.

You’re dribbling down the pitch, slipping past defenders with ease, the ball glued to your foot. Someone shouts your name in warning, but it’s too late. A tackle comes in hard, way too aggressive for practice. There’s no time to react, no time to brace yourself.

You go down, and the impact rattles through your body, but the second you hit the ground, you know something is wrong. Pain explodes up your arm, sharp and immediate, radiating from your wrist.

You don’t scream, but you let out a harsh, shaky breath, cradling your wrist to your chest as you try to push yourself up only to be met with a wave of nausea as pain tears through your arm again.

“Shit, Azulita—”

“Is she okay?”

“Someone get the trainer!”

Voices swarm around you, overlapping, frantic. The player who tackled you hovers nearby, looking guilty as hell.

Your coach is there in an instant, crouching beside you. “Where’s the pain?”

You try to shrug it off, but even moving your shoulder makes your wrist throb. “Wrist.” Your voice comes out strained.

Someone helps you up carefully, supporting your arm as they guide you toward the sideline. The trainer takes one look and mutters, “We need to get her to the hospital.”

“No,” you fiercely shake your head, “No hospital please.”

“Ríos do not give me that bull today.” Your coach says in rebuttal. “You are going to the hospital. That is that. Am I clear?”

Your eyes start to water but the tears never fall. “Yes, Coach.”

The ride to the hospital is a blur of pain, muted voices, and the occasional bump in the road that makes you wince. Your teammates on the phone try to keep the mood light, cracking jokes, promising to cover your cast in the ugliest drawings possible.

But underneath it all, a weight is pressing down on you.

Hospitals mean paperwork. Paperwork means parents.

You barely process the check-in, the way the nurses poke and prod at your wrist, asking questions, nodding at your answers until suddenly, everything halts.

“Alright,” one of the nurses says, flipping through the forms, “we just need to get a hold of your parents for consent.”

Your stomach drops. They dial the number you gave them. You already know what’s coming. The phone rings. And rings. And rings. Voicemail.

Frowning, the nurse glances up. “Do you have another guardian? A relative we can contact?”

You shake your head, quickly, instinctively, throat tight.

She tries again. Nothing.

“Sweetheart,” she says, softer now, “we can’t give you anything for the pain, and we can’t proceed until we get parental consent.”

The room closes in. Your teammates shift awkwardly, not sure what to say. The nurses murmur to each other. You stare at the floor, fingers tightening around the hem of your jersey, afraid to move, afraid to speak.

You could lie. Say they’re out of town. Say their phones died. Say something, anything. But the truth is pressing against your ribs, clawing up your throat. You don’t know where your parents are.

The minutes stretch long. Nurses come and go, but you refuse to meet their eyes, refuse to say anything. If they figure it out, if they realize you don’t have anyone, what happens next?

Then, a new nurse kneels beside you. She doesn’t push. Doesn’t demand answers. She just speaks, voice steady, familiar in a way you can’t place at first.

“You remind me of my little sister,” she says casually, watching you carefully.

You glance at her. The way she talks, the tone, the firmness, the care, it reminds you of Olga. Your throat tightens.

You don’t mean to say it. You don’t even realize the words are leaving your mouth until they’re already out, quiet and unsteady. “I haven’t seen or heard from my parents in months.”

The air shifts. The nurse straightens. Someone steps out of the room. The mood changes instantly. Your heart pounds. You shouldn’t have said anything. Now, everything is about to spiral.

Olga groaned as the sharp buzzing of her phone cut through the quiet of the bedroom. She shifted slightly, trying to ignore it, but the vibration continued, insistent.

Alexia, half-asleep, only tightened her arms around Olga’s waist, murmuring something incoherent against her shoulder.

Olga exhaled, debating ignoring the call altogether, but something about it felt urgent. Carefully, she pried Alexia’s arm away just enough to reach for the phone on the nightstand, squinting at the unfamiliar number flashing across the screen.

Her stomach twisted. Calls in the middle of the night were never good.

Reluctantly, she swiped to answer. “Hello?”

A brief pause. Then, a voice, calm, professional, but carrying a weight that immediately set Olga on edge.

“Is this Olga Ríos?”

“Yes.” She sat up slightly, rubbing at her face. “Who is this?”

“My name is Linda Perez, and I’m a social worker with Los Angeles County.”

Olga frowned, now fully awake. “Okay… what is this about?”

There was another pause, this one heavier.

“It’s about your sister.”

Olga went still.

“She suffered an injury earlier this evening during soccer practice at Willow Canyon Academy. She was taken to the hospital, but they were unable to reach either of her parents for consent to treat her injury. After further investigation, it became clear that your sister has been living without proper parental supervision for several months now.”

Olga’s breath caught in her throat. “Wait—what?”

The social worker continued, voice measured, but Olga could hear the underlying concern. “From what we’ve gathered, neither her father nor mother have been home for quite some time. Their numbers are disconnected or going straight to voicemail. She has no legal guardian available to authorize medical care or provide support.”

Olga felt like the room was tilting. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to process. “You’re telling me she’s been on her own?”

“Yes,” Linda confirmed. “And given the circumstances, her parents are now considered unfit. Without an immediate guardian stepping in, she will be placed into the system as a ward of the state.”

Olga’s stomach dropped. “She’s just a kid,” she said, voice tight, gripping the phone harder. “You can’t—”

“That’s why we’re calling you.” Linda’s tone softened. “You are her closest living relative. If you are willing, you can assume temporary guardianship. However, this is a serious commitment. You would need to take responsibility for her well-being, provide a stable home, and ensure she receives proper care.”

Olga didn’t even hesitate. “I’ll take her.”

Alexia, now sitting up beside her, stiffened at the urgency in her voice. Olga barely noticed, too focused on the conversation.

“Are you sure?” Linda asked. “This isn’t a decision to make lightly.”

“She’s my sister.” Olga was already kicking the sheets off, reaching for the nearest hoodie. “I’ll be on the next flight out.”

“Understood.” Linda hesitated. “Before you go— her injury. It’s her wrist. The doctors believe it’s sprained, possibly fractured. She needs surgery, but without parental consent, they can’t proceed.”

Olga clenched her jaw. “I give consent. Do whatever she needs.”

“I’ll let them know.”

The call ended, but Olga was already moving.

She threw open the closet, yanking out clothes, stuffing them into a suitcase with no real sense of order. Her hands were shaking. How did this happen? How did she not know?

Alexia grabbed her wrist, stopping her frantic movements. “Olga.”

“I should’ve known.” Olga shook her head, running a hand down her face. “She never said anything. I talked to her. I checked in. She never once told me she was—” Her voice caught.

Alexia squeezed her wrist. “You didn’t know.”

“I should have,” Olga snapped, then immediately winced at her own tone. She inhaled sharply. “She’s just a kid, Ale. She’s been alone for months. No parents, no one looking after her and I didn’t know. I should have known! Our dad has always been like this.”

Guilt burned in her chest. She thought back to every conversation, every time she’d asked, How are you? and got a casual, I’m fine in response.

Alexia’s grip on her tightened. “You are a good sister,” she said firmly. “You care. You’re doing the right thing now.”

Olga exhaled shakily, nodding. Alexia let go, only to start folding the clothes Olga had thrown into the suitcase.

“I’ll help you pack,” Alexia said.

Olga blinked. “You don’t have to—”

“I’m coming.”

“You don’t—”

Alexia shot her a look. “Olga.”

Olga swallowed. The tension in her shoulders loosened slightly.

“Okay,” she murmured.

Alexia nodded, zipping up her own bag. “Then let’s go get your sister.”

The last time you saw Olga in person, you were twelve years old. She had come to visit for a month, and for the first time, you felt like you had a real family member, someone who truly cared, someone who loved you. You clung to every moment, every second of that summer, storing them away like treasures, hoping they would last.

Now, sitting in your social worker’s office, your leg bounces a mile a minute. Your fingers dig into the sleeves of your hoodie as you try to steady yourself, but your mind is racing. What if this doesn’t work out? What if she doesn’t want you? What if she sees you now and regrets coming?

The door swings open and Olga barely hesitates before crossing the room in quick strides. The moment she reaches you, her arms wrap around you tightly, pulling you in like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go. You tense for half a second then melt into the embrace.

She smells the same, like citrus and something faintly floral. You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your face into her shoulder, and for the first time in months, you feel something close to safe.

She pulls back, hands still gripping your shoulders, and really looks at you. Her eyes widen slightly as she takes you in.

“You’re so—” Her voice catches, and she shakes her head. “Dios, has crecido tanto.” (God, you have grown so much.)

And you have. You’re nearly the same height as her now— maybe even taller. Your hair is longer, the tips dyed blonde. There are more piercings in your ears, and a small gold hoop gleams from your nose. Olga swallows hard. Her eyes are glassy, but she blinks quickly, shaking off the emotion.

Behind her, Alexia is speaking in low tones with your social worker, nodding as she listens. The woman slides a stack of paperwork across the desk, and Alexia flips through it, occasionally handing something to Olga to sign. It all feels so surreal.

Before you know it, you’re walking out of the office, bags in hand, stepping into the cool evening air. Alexia unlocks the car, sliding into the driver’s seat, while you and Olga settle in the back.

The drive is quiet.

You stare out the window, arms crossed, fingers tapping against your knee. The weight of everything sits heavy in your chest. Olga is here. You’re leaving your home, your LA. It’s happening so fast, and you don’t know how to process it.

Olga shifts beside you, then clears her throat.

“So…” she starts, trying to keep her tone light. “How’s school?”

“Fine.”

“Any favorite classes?”

A shrug. “Spanish.”

She exhales through her nose, tilting her head slightly. “Okay… uh, football? Are you still playing with Legends?”

You nod, still staring out the window. “Well, not anymore.”

Olga rubs her hands against her jeans, glancing at Alexia in the rearview mirror. Alexia gives her a small look that says, Give her time.

But patience has never been Olga’s strong suit. “Zulita,” she tries again. “I know this is a lot, but—“

“I didn’t ask you to come.”

It comes out sharp. Too sharp. You see Olga’s jaw tighten slightly.

“You needed someone to come,” she says, voice edged with frustration.

“I was doing fine.”

“Fine?” Olga scoffs. “Zulita, you were in the hospital alone. You had no one looking after you.”

“I was handling it.”

“No, you weren’t!” Her voice rises slightly, exasperation creeping in. “You’re fifteen! You shouldn’t have to handle it!”

The words hit something raw inside you. The frustration, the helplessness, the months of being on your own, of convincing yourself you were fine—it all bubbles up too fast.

“Well, I did!” you snap. “Because I didn’t have a choice! Because no one else was there!”

The car goes silent. Olga stares at you, her expression shifting from anger to something softer. Something sad. And then, she remembers.

She remembers the way you used to be as a kid— how you would lash out when things got too overwhelming, how your emotions always felt too big for your body, how you would snap and yell because it was the only way you knew how to feel heard.

She exhales, rubbing a hand over her face. “I’m sorry,” she says, voice quieter. “I didn’t mean to yell.”

You glare out the window, arms still crossed, but the anger is already fading into something closer to exhaustion.

You shift uncomfortably. “…Yeah. Me too.”

She huffs a small laugh, shaking her head. “You’re still so hot-headed, Zulita.”

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye, lips twitching just slightly. “Takes one to know one.”

Olga snorts, nudging your knee with hers.

Alexia just smiles from the front seat, shaking her head as she drives.

Spain doesn’t feel like home. You only vaguely remember it— small flashes from the two times your dad brought you to visit Olga. The streets, the language, the way the air smelled different. But those were just trips. You were always going back to LA. Now, you’re here. Permanently. And you hate it.

The Spanish is different. The people are different. The food is different. Everything is different.

Your emotions are a tangled mess, a constant weight in your chest that you can’t shake. You don’t know how to deal with it, don’t know how to explain it, and the one thing that’s always helped, football, has been ripped away from you. You haven’t played since you landed a week ago.

Olga is smothering you. She means well, but it’s too much. She hovers, questions everything, watches your every move like you’re some fragile thing that might shatter at any second.

Alexia is different. She gives you space. She doesn’t treat you like a kid. She sees you not just some troubled teenager Olga suddenly has to take care of, but a person trying to survive in a world that doesn’t feel like theirs. She doesn’t push, just waits.

But none of that stops everything from boiling over.

You never meant to revert to your old ways. The one good thing about Spain was the fact that you had a chance at a fresh start.

But, as you’re sitting at lunch, music blasting in your headphones, trying to block everything out. Trying to breathe, you see it.

A younger kid, probably first-year, backed against a wall, shoulders hunched, eyes darting around like a trapped animal. A taller guy standing in front of him, sneering, shoving his shoulder. Words are exchanged, but you can’t hear them.

What you can see is the way the younger boy’s hands shake, the way he flinches when the older one steps closer.

And suddenly, your body moves before your brain does.

You’re up. Across the cafeteria. Pulling the guy away from the kid.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you snap.

The older guy sneers at you. “Who the hell are you, weirdo?”

You don’t think. You react. Shoving. Yelling. Someone grabs your arm, but you shake them off. A fist swings, and suddenly, you’re in it.

Then there are teachers. Hands pulling you back. Your heart pounding.

Before you even register what happened, you’re sitting in the principal’s office, hands balled into fists, jaw locked.

The secretary dials a number. You hear them say Olga’s name.

You shut your eyes and brace yourself. The car ride home is brutal.

“What the hell were you thinking? Do you know how serious this is? You just got here, and you’re already getting into fights? You’re lucky they didn’t expel you! Dios mío, do you know how hard it was to convince them not to suspend you? This is a top school, Azulita!”

You don’t answer. You stare out the window, jaw clenched, fingers digging into your uniform. You take a deep breath and bite your tongue.

Alexia is quiet for the most part, watching you through the rearview mirror.

Then she asks, voice calm, “Did they provoke you?”

You glance at her, hesitating. “…Yeah.”

“Were they hurting someone?”

Your throat tightens, but you nod.

Alexia hums but doesn’t say anything else.

Olga, on the other hand, is still going. Your breaths get more labored, “Olga. Please drop it for now.”

When you pull into the driveway, you don’t wait. You’re out of the car before it fully stops, slamming the door behind you and stalking inside.

Olga moves to follow, but Alexia stops her with a hand on her arm.

“Let her breathe,” she says.

Olga exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. “She can’t just go around hitting people, Alexia!”

“I know,” Alexia says evenly. “But from what the principal said, and what she just said, she wasn’t fighting for no reason. She was standing up for someone.”

Olga’s shoulders drop slightly.

Alexia gives her a look. “You know better than anyone how she is. She doesn’t just get angry— she reacts. She’s been through a lot. You have to meet her halfway.”

Olga presses her lips together, sighing. “…Yeah. You’re right.”

She takes a deep breath, steadies herself, and heads upstairs to your room.

She knocks. No response.

She knocks again. “Zulita, can we talk?” Silence. Something feels wrong.

She pushes the door open to be met with an empty bed. The window is open. Your phone is on the nightstand. Panic slams into her chest.

“Alexia!”

Alexia calms her down—barely.

“We’ll find her,” she promises, already dialing a number.

The call connects.

“Lucy,” Alexia says, straight to the point. “We need your help.”

It takes a few hours, but they find you. A park, thirty minutes away. A small, empty field. You’re there, by yourself, shooting goal after goal. You don’t even turn when they approach.

Alexia watches as you line up another shot, striking the ball perfectly into the top corner. It’s instinct. You don’t even think, don’t hesitate. Your body just knows what to do.

She and Lucy exchange a look.

Alexia steps forward. “You scared Olga half to death, you know.”

You exhale, resting your hands on your hips. “I needed to clear my head.”

“So you left your phone and ran off?”

“I didn’t think you’d care,” you mumble.

Alexia frowns. “Of course we care.”

You sigh, rolling the ball under your foot. “I just—everything is too much. It’s too different. Spain is different.”

Alexia doesn’t push. She just listens. You stand there, staring at the ball as you line up your next shot, feeling the weight of everything that’s been building up inside you. The silence between you and Alexia stretches, and for the first time, you feel like you can let it out. Let her see the truth of how hard this has been for you. The truth of what you’ve been holding in for so long.

“I’m not used to this,” you say, your voice low but steady, breaking the silence. “It’s… it’s hard, you know? Everything back home just… made sense.”

Alexia’s eyes are focused on you, not speaking, just letting you continue.

You exhale deeply, trying to find the right words. “Back in LA, everything was… routine. It wasn’t easy, but it was my life. You know? I didn’t need to think about it. The corner store, Mr. García, that old man who ran it—he gave me free snacks if I swept the floors for him.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to hold back the emotion that threatens to spill. “He wasn’t rich, wasn’t some big store owner or anything. He was just an old man who liked to help out kids like me. And I did what I had to do. I didn’t complain about it because it meant I got to eat something I didn’t have to pay for. And I felt good doing it. Like, that was a part of me.”

Alexia’s eyes soften as she listens, and you shift uncomfortably, but keep going.

“There was also Mrs. Alvarez, the seamstress who lived down the block. She used to fix my clothes when they tore or when I just couldn’t afford new ones. She’d take the time to patch them up, make them look good as new. And she’d always say, ‘I’ve got your back, mija.’ Even when I couldn’t pay her. She’d make me new stuff too, just out of kindness.”

You pause, feeling the lump in your throat grow.

“And the grocery store? They’d let me stock the juice shelves for an hour or two, and in exchange, they’d give me a bag of groceries. It was the only way I could get some food most times. I mean, I didn’t care, you know? I was just a kid, trying to make it through. But I was making it.”

You stop and look down at the ball, trying to steady your breathing. “Everything back home was like that. A hustle, yeah, but a hustle I understood. It wasn’t perfect, but it made sense. People helped each other out, and you helped them back. I knew how to survive.”

You look at Alexia now, feeling the weight of your confession. “I got a scholarship, you know? A football scholarship to the best program in LA. And it wasn’t handed to me. I worked my ass off to get there. I had to claw my way in, beat out all the other kids who had better coaches, better gear, better everything. But I fought for it. I did it alone. No one helped me get there. It was just me, and I… I made it.”

You can feel the emotion building, the frustration, the anger, the sadness, all of it hitting you at once. “And now, I’m here. And I don’t know how to make it make sense. I don’t know how to fit in. Spain is nothing like LA. The Spanish is different. The people are different. And I feel like I’m… just lost. Like I don’t belong here.”

Alexia doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t offer advice or try to fix things. She just nods, listening, letting you spill everything.

“I didn’t know how to handle that. I didn’t know how to adjust. And yeah, I know it sounds stupid, but…” You clench your jaw, fighting the tears that are threatening to come. “It’s hard to start over. I didn’t think I’d have to do this again.”

Alexia stays silent for a long moment, letting you talk through everything. Then, when you’re done, she finally speaks.

“You’re right,” she says softly. “I can’t imagine how you’re feeling, Zulita. I’ve been in Barcelona my whole life, so this—what you’re going through—this isn’t something I understand. But I can understand that it’s hard.”

You nod, your chest heavy. “I don’t want to be ungrateful. I know this is an opportunity. But it just feels like I’m starting over in a place that isn’t mine. A place that isn’t home.”

Alexia smiles softly. “It’s okay. You don’t have to figure it out all at once. You’re allowed to feel frustrated, to miss home. You’re allowed to take time to adjust.”

You look up at her, feeling a little lighter, a little more seen. “Thanks,” you say quietly.

Alexia’s gaze softens as she watches you, clearly understanding. “But there’s something you need to do. You need to talk to Olga about this. It’s the first step in the right direction, okay?”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering it. You know she’s right, but it still feels hard. Still feels like you’re betraying everything you built back in LA. But Alexia’s words make sense.

And when you finally nod, Alexia adds, “Talking to her is the first step, but we’ll get through this together. All of us. We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

You take a breath and look back at the goal, focusing on the ball again. The frustration, the anger, the confusion—it’s still there, simmering. But for the first time since you got to Spain, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you can start figuring this out.

Maybe you can make this work, too. You sigh, staring down at the ball. “…She treats me like a kid.”

“She treats you like someone she loves,” Alexia corrects gently.

You chew on your lip, kicking the ball toward the goal again. It soars into the net.

Alexia and Lucy exchange another look.

Alexia smirks. “We’re gonna have to get you on a team soon.”

#woso community #woso x platonic!reader #woso fic #woso x teen!reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso #alexia putellas x teen!reader #alexia putellas x reader #olga rios x teen!reader #olga rios x reader #barca femeni x teen!reader #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni x teen!reader #·˚ ༘ something blue

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deepspacenova · 5 months ago

Text

Covetous

She stepped out into the moonlight, allowing the glow to illuminate her silhouette. His massive form shifted, but he didn’t move to hide. No, he continued to lay upon his perch insolently, as if daring her to try something. A few moments of silent stalemate, then, a long-suffering sigh. “Again, little one?”

read on ao3

➻➻ ABOUT | 4500 words. sylus x fem!reader.

➻➻ TAGS | dragon!sylus. banter. sexual tension. porn with some plot. shameless smut. explicit.

NOTE: Basically written based on headcanons and vibes (before Beyond Cloudfall was released, so no spoilers). Because no, I am not okay about this myth card. Let’s all be not okay together xx

The icy air prickled on her skin as she scrambled her way through the rocky terrain that led down to the cavern system.

She couldn’t help but feel a thrum of adrenaline-infused excitement as she crept into the darkness, the fissures in the rock overhead illuminating the tunnel with speckled moonlight as she slipped through the silent shadows.

She paused for a moment, her breath curling into silver mist in front of her. The stars were high, and the cave ahead was quiet and blissfully unaware of her presence; she had time for a moment of indulgence. She took a deep breath, the intense chill of the night air revitalizing her.

She had certainly seen worse.

Once upon a time she’d loathed heights, but she’d experienced far worse things over the years than being a few extra metres from the ground. After the war she’d thought it would be easy to fall back into her life, thought it would feel like being back on solid ground, but she’d been wrong, so caught up in changing the world that she didn’t even realise that she had changed too. Now…

Now she had to get back to work.

She hugged the jagged rock walls, her boots crunching softly against the gritty floor of the cave as she crept deeper into the shadows. Overhead, the roof of the cavern became higher and darker, glittering with faint streaks of quartz that caught the dim light filtering through unseen cracks above.

What would her younger self think of this? Sneaking into a monster’s lair to pilfer his treasure? She imagined that naive girl, horrified beyond belief, clinging to ideals about honor and fairness. But those ideals didn’t pay for food, for shelter. The truth was simple: wealth changed the world. And if she had to steal it from the claws of a monster, then so be it.

The path curved sharply, and just ahead, the faintest glint of gold sparkled in the dim light. Her heart skipped, her pulse quickening.

Something was wrong.

The chamber’s massive iron door, usually sealed tight, was cracked open, its hinges groaning faintly as a draft stirred the cavern air.

Damn it. She’d been so close. So close she could taste it. But now—

The faintest sound reached her ears—a low scrape, like claws dragging across stone. It was so subtle she almost missed it over the hammering of her heart as she gripped the dagger at her side.

Carefully, she tilted her head to peek around the corner.

The chamber opened into a vast expanse of shimmering treasure. Gold coins, goblets, gems, and gilded weapons spilled across the cavern floor in glittering piles. But her attention wasn’t on the wealth — it was on the hulking figure sprawled atop the stone mound.

The dragon.

His massive form was sprawled on the pedestal, onyx scales glinting in the faint light like shards of obsidian. Smoke curled lazily around him as he rested its head on a palm, like a domesticated creature in repose.

Her stomach twisted. She’d expected him to be there, of course, but seeing him in the flesh was another thing entirely. The beast was impossibly large, his spiked wings resting behind him like folds of a midnight curtain. His tail swished idly, the tip flicking lazily as it held his prize, her prize. The Thread of Celestia, the sparkling necklace she’d set out to retrieve.

The very sight of him irked her. The sheer arrogance of him. No disguise, no armor, no clothing, he wasn’t even sticking to the shadows, the cocky, brutish–

“Your stealth skills could use some work.” He called, his voice low and resonant, cutting through the quiet night like a blade through silk.

She rolled her shoulders, cracked her neck and gripped her dagger.

A few moments of silent stalemate, then, a long-suffering sigh.

“Again, little one?”

“Apparently.”

“How have we ended up here again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who sent you this time? I doubt we move in the same circles,” he said with a pretentious little sniff.

“No one hired me, Sylus.”

“Oh?” he inquired, eyes glittering like rubies. “Just for the fun of it then?”

“This isn’t for fun.” She lied. It wasn’t just for fun anyway… “Just because you don’t care about anything but yourself–”

“You know that’s not true,” he said, sitting up. The Thread of Celestia disappeared somewhere on his person with a smoothness that made her wonder just how many secrets his body held.

Sylus continued, “I don’t believe for a second that you don’t have a little giggle to yourself thinking of the look on your master’s face when he realises his favorite… toy is being played with.” His gaze sluiced like warm water over her body and she knew he didn’t mean the necklace. She took another step toward him, palm tensing around the dagger behind her back. “And before you start waxing poetic about causes, I’ll remind you that last time we were in this position, you told me that cretins like him get what they deserve.”

“They do,” she said lightly, taking a few more steps forward.

“If you’re waiting for me to fall prey to the dagger behind your back, little one, you’re going to be disappointed.”

She shrugged, using the action to subtly shift her stance.

“I’m always disappointed in you.”

“Careful, sweetie, you’ll make me cry,” he drawled, his lip curling. “Shall we get on with it, then?”

She stopped less than a foot away from him. “I think we should.”

“Then, we don’t have all night.”

“No we don’t.”

There was a moment of perfect stillness, perfect silence. Then the tension snapped.

She sprung forward like an arrow from a bow, lunging towards him through the thin gap between them, and at the very same instant he leapt off the ledge, conjuring a cloud of thick smoke that swamped her vision. She expelled it with a slash of her arm and as the fog cleared she tried to glimpse him to no avail. He’d disappeared.

She may well have changed a great deal over the years, but she still hated losing.

She prowled around the cavern, her lungs burning as she fought to catch her breath each time she felt a claw poke her back, a tail stagger her step, or his melodic chuckle reverberate through her chest. She was fast but so was he, and in terms of size, strength, and supernatural ability he had her beat tenfold.

He was almost close enough to grab now, but still an elusive flash of body parts her blasted human eyes could barely make out. It was now or never, though. With a grimace and a grunt of exertion, whipped around, hands outstretched–

And caught nothing but air.

She heard the soft thump of his tail behind the gold pile next to her and, not one to be easily deterred, she followed.

This wasn’t over until she said it was over.

But she felt his heartbeat too late, alarmingly close, and she didn’t even have time to turn around before the tip of his claw was denting into the delicate flesh at the side of her neck.

“Found me,” he whispered into her ear as his arm came around her. He chuckled under his breath as she shuddered involuntarily against his front. “I forgot we’d added ear-whispering to the list of dirty tricks. I know how much it… affects you.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, cursing her treacherous body.

“Really? Here?” he said, and she could practically hear the arrogance in his grin.

Well. One dirty trick begets another.

Angling her hips just so, she pushed her arse backward until she heard the sharp intake of breath she knew so well. Then she snapped her head back, and heard a satisfying grunt as it connected with his face.

She spun around as his tail replaced his arm when the tip of his middle finger brush a small drop of blood from the corner of his lip — ideally, she’d have aimed for his nose, but he was at least a head taller than her so she’d take what she could reach — and drew her fist back.

“Oh no you don’t,” Sylus growled, grabbing her fist in his hand and twisting her arm toward the small of her back. “Don’t you dare give me another black eye, little one.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she muttered, drawing her dagger with her unrestrained hand and aiming it at his face.

Sylus released her fist from his grip, then used her moment of unbalance to tighten his tail around the back of her knees, but she was still fast and trained. She dropped her entire weight onto his tail and tackled him to the ground while he was still regaining his balance.

“If you don’t want a black eye, then you should be faster,” she panted, wriggling on top of him as she attempted to pin his arms to his sides with her knees. “Now where is it?”

“You don’t already know?” he asked silkily, with an utterly shameless grin and a roll of his hips. And yes, of course she could feel the effect the friction was having on him, of course, she knew she was squeezing him with her thighs so it was hardly an unexpected outcome, of course, his ridiculous leather ensemble really did leave very little to the imagination, but–

“I’m not interested in that,” she said coolly. “Where’s the necklace? And don’t you dare tell me to search for it.”

“Why should I tell you anything, sweetie? I’m rather enjoying myself if I’m honest.” She felt his erection twitch beneath her as if it was agreeing with him.

“So help me, Sylus, I will search for it, and depending on which crevice you’ve stashed it in, that could be quite uncomfortable for you.”

“Why are you so damn insistent anyway?” he asked blandly. “This thing is a novelty at best.”

“An expensive novelty,”

“Well obviously, but surely a rock that supposedly prevents hangovers is beneath your exalted notice?”

“It just means I’m selling something harmless,” she said with a shrug, “Now where-”

A loud crack of thunder above them split the quiet of the night, startling her.

Sylus immediately bucked his hips up, destabilizing her just enough that he could pull his hands up from where she’d been pinning them. He grabbed the back of her thighs and flipped them over, managing to catch one hand but she was too quick for him to catch the one that mattered, and then they were still again.

Her dagger under his chin, his claw digging into the space above her heart, tail pinning her in place, their chests heaving.

“Now why do we always have to solve our problems with violence, little one?” he purred, his voice barely more than a wisp of air. “Can’t we act civilized for once?”

“Maybe.”

“Fancy moving your little blade then?” he murmured, leaning forward a touch so she could feel the soft vibration of his voice humming through the length of her weapon into her hand.

“No,” she said stubbornly, “Why don’t you move your- your talon?”

“Because if I move mine you’ll cut my cheek, take the jewelry, and leave me,” he bit out, scowling, “Like last time.”

“Last time was different.”

“I wouldn’t have cared, you know,” he whispered, moving a fraction closer. She kept her blade against his throat, and he pressed his a little harder into her ribs. “I would have let you take that amethyst too, but waking empty handed and alone? That did sting a bit, sweetie.”

“So sorry,” she muttered sarcastically.

“No you’re not,” Sylus growled.

“No,” she said, almost breathless now, “I’m not.”

He let out a huff of exasperation, and they surged together. The kiss was hot and hard and vicious, and it stole the air from her lungs. She could taste the blood on his lips, and resisted the urge to bite it harder, oddly proud she was the one who’d put the mark there, who made the great beast bleed in the first place. He had no such qualms, and he nipped sharply at her lower lip, grunting in satisfaction when he felt her shudder beneath him.

“We can’t,” she gasped as he turned his attention to her neck.

“If you want to leave then move your damn knife out of my face,” he rumbled into her jaw, and she realised that she had instinctually kept her weapon stuck firmly under his chin. His claws had moved to wrap around her throat.

“Fine.” The sound of metal hitting metal echoed around them as the blade landed into a small pile of gold.

They lay there, their faces a hair’s breadth apart for several seconds before she yanked the silvery-white hair at his nape and kissed him as if she wasn’t expected to be back in the city soon.

Sylus didn’t complain. On the contrary, he growled into her mouth and his tail constricted harder around her hips, keeping her flush against him. Gods, she really did wish he wasn’t quite so attractive. She could feel every muscle through her clothes, smell the comforting scent of smoke on his warm breath, see every piece of white and black that covered this man who lived in the grey.

“Every time,” she murmured as he kissed and nipped his way down her chest. “Every time I say it's the last time.”

“You did last time.” He hummed.

She flicked her tongue against the pulse point she’d wanted to press her dagger into a few moments ago, “That’s why I left.”

He roughly shoved his thigh between hers and smirking at the way she gasped and tightened her grip on his shoulders, she could feel every wrinkle of fabric brush against her sensitive skin. “I’m sure that’s why,” he whispered in her ear sardonically.

“Dirty tricks,” she managed to pant out.

“Have I missed something, little one?” Sylus asked, pushing his thigh harder into her so she was practically rocking on his leg, “I thought we were well into the list? My lip’s still healing by the way.”

“I need to get out of here, you beast,” she said, uncomfortably aware of how thin and unconvincing her voice sounded. “You can have all the dirty tricks you want once I–”

“That a promise?” he asked with a wolfish grin.

She couldn’t help but smile back, even as she felt her cheeks heat. “Just a few hundred metres to the exit of the cave”

“Hm, winner keeps the necklace?”

“Wait, that’s not–”

He silenced her with a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth, then pulled away with an unbearably arrogant smirk, getting up and vanishing from her sight.

“Sylus!” She shouted in frustration before sprinting after him.

That confusing, adrenaline-fueled joy was back as they chased each other around the cave.

She had no clue if she was really gaining on him, or if he was letting her for the fun of it, but in that moment she didn’t care a bit. When she spotted his tail from the corner of her eye she leapt forward and this time she caught more than air. She barreled into his chest like a warrior. Her light build was mitigated by the sheer momentum and together they tumbled onto the stone-cold floor.

They tussled clumsily for a few moments, rolling over and over without either one getting the upper hand.

She saw a tantalising glint in her peripheral vision.

He was dangling the Thread of Celestia over her head from his tail — she didn’t even want to know which unholy nook or cranny he’d produced it from — and even in a gilded room it glittered, almost as if it was producing its own light.

Then she realised that while she had been staring at the jewel, Sylus was staring at her, eyelids lowered, gaze soft. He cocked his head, questioning, and she couldn’t help but smile.

She reached out and gently closed her hand over the necklace, removed it from his tail, and flung it away from them.

“The usual rules?” Sylus murmured.

“Yes.”

“You didn’t wake me last time.”

“Last time we’d already agreed on the course of action.”

“You mean you’d agreed on the course of action,”

“Don’t pout, dragon. It’s not my fault all your attention had rushed south.”

“You were half-naked, sweetie.”

“So were you. That’s how I know where all your attention was.”

“Just… promise you won’t do it again,” he said, more serious than she’d heard him tonight.

“Fine,” she sighed. “I promise.”

“I’ll make you pay if you break this one,” Sylus rumbled, his voice low and dangerous.

She opened her mouth to retort, but he surged forwards with a low moan, their lips met, and her brain went blank for several wonderful seconds.

They were panting when they broke apart, but there was only a split second of stillness before they were back at each other, fingers and claws tearing at their garments between kisses. Eventually the clothing battle was won, and Sylus pressed his naked torso to hers as he brushed her hair over her shoulder with one sharp finger.

She ran her hands indulgently down the length of his back and he shuddered under her fingertips, sinking his teeth into the soft skin between her shoulder and neck.

She gasped and he chuckled. “Tit for tat,” he murmured into the crook of her neck, running his hands down the outside of her arms all the way down to her hips, where he hooked his thumbs inside her underwear.

She tore them down her legs, the tease of real touch not nearly enough.

“So impatient,” he tutted, his lips brushing her jaw with every syllable.

In answer she slid her hand back up to palm him and grinning smugly to herself when she felt him shudder.

“You are always so-” he pulled one bra-strap down off her shoulder, “-demanding-” he slipped the other strap down, dragging his tongue over her collarbone, “-and greedy.”

“Tease,” she managed, trying and failing to disguise the growing desperation in her voice.

He pulled back and smiled slowly, the dusting of pink on his cheekbones and the soft grinding into her palm the only signs he might be as overwrought as she was.

He dragged a fingertip across her lips, just barely grazing her tongue for the smallest second, and then it was too late to stop herself. She sucked it into her mouth, and for that moment every shred of composure vanished from his expression.

Apparently all his patience vanished too, because he let out a hoarse groan and grabbed her, flipping her around so her front was pressed against the gold-splattered floor. She longed to feel his heated skin against hers, so when he flicked open her bra she scrambled to shrug it off, gasping when her nipples brushed the cold metal of his treasures.

“You know how I know you like me here?” he growled into her ear, running his sharp finger down her spine.

“How?” she panted, and he laughed quietly, a soft vibration against her neck.

“Because, little one,” he purred, “You’ve already headbutted me once this evening. I don’t believe for a second you wouldn’t do it again if you wanted to,” he nuzzled the nape of her neck, an oddly tender action given the way he was gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, “So logically I have to conclude that you’re letting me do this… but why is that, sweetie?”

He trailed off and his tail lowered around her thighs, leaving her exposed but still constrained. He swept his hand down her arse and the inside of her thigh, and then back up again to dip one finger into her. She tried to arch into his touch, but he’d already pulled away, and she huffed in frustration.

“Tell me why you’re letting me do this,” he commanded softly.

She bit her lip to stop herself from moaning. How was he so good at this?

The first time it happened it had been a fight from start to finish, brutal and frantic and without the smallest trace of softness, and she’d screamed so loud they’d had very nearly brought the cave down. The second time was more of a negotiation. He’d trapped her here for a few days, and after the first time had been so successful, it seemed like there were certainly worse ways to pass the time.

Every time they both agreed it was the last. Sometimes she told him to shut up, wrestled him to the floor, and made him shut up. Sometimes it was the other way around. But every time it became just a little harder to convince herself that this time really was the last.

“Tell me, little one,” he breathed, grinding each ridge of his cock slowly against her backside.

And every time, they would get to this point, the point where her resistance would evaporate, she’d say fuck it.

“Because I love it,” she gasped.

“Hmm,” he hummed, leaning forward again to reach between her legs, cupping her but not pushing inside. She groaned and arched into him again, and the arrogant bastard laughed. The worst thing was that his brazenness only riled her even more. “Now, are you going to be good for me, sweetie?”

“Don’t push it,” she snapped, and he laughed again.

“As you wish,” he said smoothly, and as much as she was enjoying this, his hand between her legs and his warm weight pressing her bare front against the floor, it didn’t do to let his ego run amok.

She moved to turn around, and surprisingly he didn’t try to stop her, just pulled her to him, kissing her deeply. For once there was no fight for dominance, no semblance of a struggle, just a frenzy of movement as they both scrambled to devour each other.

She traced his scales with her tongue. He stamped hot, open mouthed kisses on the bruises that were beginning to bloom from their escapades. Skin to skin, it was like a moment out of time, a bubble where nothing outside this underground cavern existed.

A sigh of satisfaction vibrated from his chest, when he slid a finger inside her and choked on a gasp of pleasure. His tongue swirled around her nipple and his thumb found her clitoris, and suddenly what she’d thought would be a marathon became a sprint.

“Sylus, I- I’m-”

He withdrew his hand and she groaned in disappointment, but her thighs were already cradling him and his cock was already teasing at her entrance. She ground down, desperate for friction, but he tightened his tail around her and before she could even blink he had flipped her over again. She had wanted to watch him unravel above her but now he was pushing her knees apart, and pushing further and further into her and- well, actually, this was fine too.

The moment the tip of his cock bottomed out she arched up into him as if she’d been electrocuted. Even so, it wasn’t enough. She squirmed for more.

“So demanding,” he purred, his hot breath torturous against the curve of her cheek.

“Stop stopping!” she growled, grabbing his hair to push his face into her neck and pushing back into him.

He chuckled against her and flexed his hips once, just once, and she was so close she felt like a live wire, her skin buzzing with the anticipation of it. Without warning he punched her clit and she screamed into the top of her own hand.

Sylus caught her wrist and pinned it to the ground.

“Don’t you dare,” he grunted, pushing in further, “I want- fuck- I want to hear every single sound.”

She moaned loudly. Much as she hated to admit it, she really did love his voice like this.

“Just like that,” he groaned, and she clenched around him involuntarily as he began to move. “Oh fuck- I fucking love-”

“Gods, I’m going to-”

“Yes, come on my cock,” he snarled, thrusting harder and tightening his grip on her wrist.

Her other hand fisted around his nape, her whole body clenched, and her awareness narrowed past this room, even past him, and all she could do was hold on for dear life as her orgasm claimed her.

In the fuzzy edges of her perception she heard her name, his voice low and rough, almost reverential, and finally he came with a wordless moan, his body shuddering against her. As the waves of pleasure began to recede, she thought distantly how strange it was that this was so good. It didn’t make any sense at all. They didn’t make any sense. This couldn’t ever work.

But there was something profoundly, sinfully delightful about taking something you were never meant to have. And in that moment, she thought she understood this dragon more than she ever had.

There weren’t any more words. This part was always oddly quiet for how much they both loved to talk. They just silently curled their exhausted bodies around each other. There wasn’t anything left to say, they both knew that, all too quickly, dawn would arrive, and reality would catch up with them once again.

As the tendrils of sleep coiled around her mind, the last thought in her head was that maybe she would quite like to do this one day without any of the usual shit. Maybe they could fall asleep together and wake up together. Maybe they would… maybe……

When she awoke, she felt unusually comfortable. She hummed in contentment and stretched, and let out a little sigh of disappointment when she realised that she was alone. Then the context caught up with her, and all the sleepy indulgence evaporated.

She bolted upright, ignoring the twinges of protest from her limbs and the rush of lightheadedness at getting up so quickly. She’d half expected him to be lounging there next to her, waiting for her with the necklace dangling from his tail like an insolent bastard, but no. The cave was as empty as the silks she’d been lain on, and her heart sank.

She should have known this would happen, especially since she’d done it to him last time. She shook her head in exasperation at herself. This couldn’t keep happening, it was-

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a small package on the bedside table, a leather pouch with a folded note propped up in front. She reached for the pouch, undoing the drawstring and peering inside.

And there it was. The necklace. The very thing that had brought her to him in the first place.

She pulled the drawstring tight, as if looking at it too long might make it disappear, and reached blindly for the note. It was just a few scrawled words.

Just this once, sweetie. I have a monstrous reputation to maintain. -S

#my take on our one and our only #dragon sylus #sylus x mc #sylus x reader #lads mc #lads sylus x reader #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #lads smut #sylus #sylus smut #sylus fanfic #qin che #sylus love and deepspace #l&ds #love and deepspace #love and deepspace fic #my writing #nova writing

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achilles-rage · 3 months ago

Text

Is She Mine?

summary: when buck left pennsylvania, he unknowingly left you there, pregnant with his child. four years later he runs into you and your daughter at the grocery store.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: another buck with a kid fic, another baby name from my baby name list used<3 if you don't like the name argue with the wall. someone gave me this idea months ago, but i can't find the ask, and i know birthmarks like that aren't hereditary or anything, but just pretend lol. anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: barely edited (sorry), reader has a daughter (obviously lol), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

“Delia, come back here right now!” you whisper-yell down the grocery aisle, looking up right as you see your daughter disappear around the corner.

You’ve always been against kids on leashes, but lately, your three-year-old daughter has been single-handedly changing your opinion on them. You can’t take your eyes off of her for more than a couple of seconds before she’s gone; chasing after nothing in particular and probably talking to a random stranger or two along the way, if you know her at all.

You see flickers of her father in her; not merely in her appearance, but in who she is on the inside as well, and she’s never even met him. She’s extremely outgoing and talkative, and stubborn, and has a heart of gold. As much as you hate to see the painful glimmer of her father within her, it also makes you happy to think of your time with him.

You haven’t seen him since shortly after you realized you were pregnant. You were both in college in your home state, and when you took the pregnancy test, you couldn’t figure out how to tell him. You had ended up waiting too long, and when he told you that he was leaving to travel the world, you couldn’t stop him, as much as you wanted to.

You knew how miserable he was with his parents, and you couldn’t bring yourself to ruin his dreams. You knew all he wanted to do was get out of Pennsylvania, and you didn’t want to force him to stay with you just because you had done something stupid.

You abandon your cart in the middle of the aisle and race after her, haphazardly pulling your purse up your arm as your eyes frantically look around you for a glimpse of her hair, or her light blue shirt. Or was it purple? God, you really need to start taking pictures of her before you go out with her, you think to yourself as your heart hammers in your chest.

Finally, you hear her loud giggle, and you let out a relieved sigh, following the noise and finally setting your sight on her curly hair and her blue shirt. Good to know you were right about that, at least.

“De, what are you doing? You can’t run away from m-” your words catch in your throat as you see that she’s talking to a man who’s bent down to her level and smiling fondly at her.

When he turns and locks eyes with you, the smile drops from his face, and he stands up straight as his eyes travel down your body. His breath has been ripped from his lungs as he watches you pick up the little girl and set her on your hip, but before either of you can speak, your daughter squeals excitedly in your ear.

“Mommy, he’s got dots, too!” Her tiny hand shoots out toward his eyebrow, pointing at the birthmark above his eye, and you nod slowly, eyes still focused on Buck. Your sweet girl is completely oblivious to the tension between you and Buck; all she can focus on is that this random man at the grocery store has the exact same birthmark as her.

“Buck,” you breathe in disbelief, watching as the realization dawns on him. He knows exactly what he just heard. Mommy. And unless he’s suddenly extremely bad at math, he knows exactly what this means.

His eyes dart between you and your daughter, now seeing the mix of your features on her face. She has your eyes, and her hair is the exact same, but she also has his bright smile, and his nose, and of course, the same birthmark above her eye.

“Is she-” he begins, trailing off as he shakes his head. He’s trying hard to wrap his head around this situation, and the only thought running through his mind is why the hell didn’t she tell me?

“She’s three,” you reply softly, unable to bring yourself to say the real truth. He’s not stupid; you know you shouldn’t need to, and you don’t want to say a thing around Delia, anyway.

“Why didn’t you-?” he begins again, but you cut him off, keeping a firm grip on your daughter as she wiggles around in your arms.

“You were miserable in Pennsylvania, I couldn’t make you stay,” you explain, your throat feeling tight as you feel all the emotions you’ve been shoving deep down for the past four years fighting their way to the surface again.

“You wouldn’t be making me stay, if I knew, I would’ve wanted to stay. You know that,” he tells you, brows furrowed.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you since he left. Leaving you in Pennsylvania was the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, but he knew how important it was for you to graduate, and he couldn’t ask you to leave with him and throw away your own dreams for his.

Now, looking at you, and the little girl in your arms, his heart feels heavy. He feels guilty for not being there for you for four years. He wishes that he never left.

“And I wasn’t miserable. I had you,” he continues, his fists clenching at his sides as he watches his daughter wrap her arms around your neck and rest her little head on your shoulder. He wants more than anything to hold her, but she has no idea who he is, and that causes a pain in his chest.

“I’m sorry. We were young, and I didn’t know what to do,” you explain, guilt filling your belly. In hindsight, you know you should’ve told Buck; he had a right to know, but you didn’t know what to say.

“Well, I can’t just forget about this now. I can’t just go back to not seeing you, not seeing her,” he says, his tone pleading as he looks down at your daughter again, his eyes soft as he takes in her drowsy eyes.

“Delia,” you tell him with a small smile, tilting your head to the side and resting your cheek against the top of her head.

He smiles too, and you think you see tears forming in his eyes as he nods, then clears his throat.

“Delia,” he whispers. “She looks just like you,” he continues, louder this time.

You laugh softly, shrugging as you squeeze Delia tighter to you. You’re thankful that she’s been quiet while you talk, clearly tired after a long day at the park, and then running errands.

“I think she looks like you,” you reply, and he chuckles softly, feeling a sense of pride fill his chest. He can’t believe he hasn’t been there to see his little girl grow up, and that you’ve had to do this all alone.

“Please let me see you again. Please.” You smile at his words; you knew Buck would want to help out as much as he could if he ever found out. You feel guilt eating at you as you see the longing in his expression, but this feels like a second chance, and you don’t want to cut him off again.

“Okay. But, can I call you later? I should get her home and ready for daycare tomorrow. We shouldn’t really talk about this here, anyway,” you say quietly, gesturing down to Delia. She may only be three, but she understands a lot, even in her sleepy state, and you don’t want to confuse her before you know what this is.

He nods quickly, then gives you his phone to get your number, and when he has it, you say goodbye before you go your separate ways.

Your daughter waves haphazardly at Buck as you walk away, and you can’t help the grin that makes its way onto your face. She’s asked about her father before, and you never quite knew what to say. Maybe now she’ll actually be able to have the father she’s always asked about. The one that you’ve longed for for the last four years.

Later that night, when Delia’s in bed, you call Buck and set up a day for him to come over to spend the day with you two. You both agree not to tell Delia who he really is, at least not right away. First, you’ll just get her used to him, and then you’ll cross the next bridge when you get to it.

You weren’t at all surprised when the first time Buck showed up on your doorstep, Delia welcomed him in with a bright smile, grabbing his hand and bringing him into the living room where all her toys were scattered around. You weren’t surprised when Buck sat right down with her and played with her all day, either, only stopping for snack breaks.

Anything she would ask for, he would do, whether it was playing hide and seek, or painting with her, or throwing her up in the air as many times as she wanted while playing what she calls “rocket ship.”

Eventually, his afternoon visits ended up ending later and later, and you’d sit on the couch and talk long after Delia went to bed. You missed hanging out with him, and seeing him being so good with Delia had you falling for him all over again.

It wasn’t hard to see that he felt the same; you could see the way his eyes wandered down your body, or down to your lips when you were speaking, but you never did anything about it. Your number one priority is Delia, and you don’t want to do anything too early and confuse her.

One day, a few months after you had run into Buck, he’s sitting on the carpet with your daughter, holding two of her Barbie’s in his hands with furrowed brows as she explains to him who they are. You’re sitting with them, watching with a fond smile, when Delia stops, looking up at Buck quizzically.

“Are you my daddy?” she asks softly, her brows knit together in confusion as she eyes him.

Both you and Buck’s eyes widen, and your lips part as you try to figure out what to say. You knew this was coming, but you couldn’t figure out how to go about it.

“Why do you ask, sweetheart?” Buck finally says, tilting his head to the side as you watch them.

“Everyone at school has daddies. And, you love my mommy,” she explains, looking between the two of you. You tilt your head to the side and steal a glance at Buck, seeing the smile growing on his face. He meets your gaze for a second, raising a brow, and you nod once. You don’t know how this is going to go, but you want to try.

“Of course, I love your mommy. And I love you, too,” he assures her with a smile, bringing a hand up and tracing her chubby cheek with his fingers.

She smiles bashfully, tilting her head to the side, then stops for a moment, thinking. You can practically see the wheels turning in her head as she looks at the space between the two of you, spaced out, and then she looks back up at Buck.

“Will you be my daddy?” she asks, and your heart shatters when you see the nervousness in her eyes. Buck can feel tears forming in his eyes as he looks back into her eyes, and his heart somehow feels both full and empty at her words. He’s been hoping to eventually become Delia’s father for real, but hearing the uncertainty in her voice makes him want to hold her close and never leave her again.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll be your daddy,” he says after a moment, not wanting her to wait a second longer. He lets out a huff as Delia suddenly shoots up and launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and settling into his lap with an elated giggle.

“I love you, daddy,” she says breathlessly, nuzzling into his neck and squeezing him hard. You watch with a smile, tears forming in your own eyes as you see a tear slip down Buck’s cheek.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice shaky as he hugs her close to his chest.

He’s always wanted a family, and now that he has this one, he never wants to let it go. He just can’t believe he missed out on the first three years. He’ll have to make it up to his girls, he thinks to himself.

“I’m gonna go talk to your mommy for a second. We’ll be right back, okay?” he tells your daughter when she finally gets off his lap and goes back to playing with her Barbie’s.

When you’re both in the kitchen, and sure Delia’s distracted, Buck closes the space between you two, cupping your cheeks and bringing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. You hold his wrists as you kiss him back, caught slightly off guard but quickly regaining your composure as you move your lips in time with his.

When you finally pull back, you’re both out of breath, and he looks down at you with sparkling eyes, studying your face for a moment before bringing your foreheads together.

“I want to be a real family. I don’t just want her, I want you, too.” he whispers, letting his thumb trace along your skin as he holds your face in his hands. You laugh in slight disbelief, then nod, letting a tear finally fall down your cheek. The last four years without him have been exhausting, and all you wanted was this, but you never thought you could have it. Except now Buck is standing right in front of you, telling you that he wants exactly what you want.

“I want that, too.” you tell him softly, then bring your lips up to his again, kissing him with newfound fervour.

Your hands go to his chest, bunching up the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer as you part your lips and let his tongue slip into your mouth, searching. He keeps one hand on your face as the other goes down to your hip, holding you flush against him as he tilts your head further up into the kiss, and a low groan escapes his throat as he feels your plush middle pressed against him.

You finally have to pull away when you hear your daughter’s squeal from the other room; yelling a high pitched “daddy!”

You both race to the living room, letting out sighs of relief when you see her sitting in the same spot on the carpet that you’d left her, with a cheeky smile on her face.

“Can we have ice cream for dinner?” You scoff, laughing softly as you shake your head. You’ve seen that sweet little expression before; she knows exactly how to ask for what she wants, but unlike Buck, you’re more used to having to say no.

“Yeah, we can have ice cream for dinner, baby,” Buck replies before you can, and your head snaps in his direction, your eyes narrowed. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, however, as he’s smiling fondly at Delia as she squeals excitedly and makes her way to him.

When Buck picks your daughter up in his arms and finally turns to face you, you can feel the sliver of anger slip away, seeing how Delia is looking up at Buck with a dazed smile; clearly happy about finally having her daddy.

“You’re already wrapped around her finger.” you tease, and all he does is shrug, a smile plastered to his face.

“Happily.” he replies, then leans down and gives you a gentle kiss. You both laugh when you hear Delia’s fake sounds of disgust, and when you pull back, Buck throws her up in the air, then catches her.

“Hey, if I’m gonna be your daddy, you’re gonna have to let me kiss your mommy, that’s part of the deal.” he teases as he throws her up in the air, eliciting a high-pitched giggle from her lips.

“Okay, okay, okay!” she gets out through breathless gasps, and when Buck hums in victory and lowers her back into his arms, he gives her a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek.

You watch with a grin, and you can’t believe that you lived for four years without Buck. But now that he’s back, you never want to leave him again.

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vxnuslogy · 3 months ago

Text

╭────── the challenge for a new king ✦ ⸝⸝

✦ ⭑𓂃 honkai: star rail ┆ mydei .ᐟ ──╯

𐔌 warnings. mentions of blood, ooc-mydei (written before official release) ♟ notes. mydei kisserhood is infectious and so is the ithaca saga's "the challenge." my favorite mydei kisser sol (@st6rly) this is for you <33

━━━ art credits. hoyoverse ♟ tags. @lowkeyren @starcharmed @mikashisus @https-sourlimes @dazaisms @powchakko @pneumosia ; if you'd like to be tagged, please fill out the forms on my pinned!!

౨ৎ crown prince of kremnos, mydeimos — your lover from a past life, eternally bound to you and you wouldn't have it any other way.

the clamor of suitors in the palace’s main hall rings in your ears like a cacophony of arrogant laughter. even in the comforts of your room, as your servants dress you in ceremonial robes — garments reserved for only the eyes of your husband now will lay bare for the hundreds of men waiting for you downstairs — strike a nervous trail of ice on your back.

from the corner of your eyes, you see your council take away the stacks of papers on your table. after all, your duty as a monarch will be stripped away once a king is chosen. you will no longer need to trouble yourself with this kingdom’s affair — it hurts you deeply; the people you’ve served since you were a child now bid you farewell without sparing you a second glance.

“your highness,” a gruff voice from your bedroom door called out. “everyone is waiting for you at the banquet hall. they eagerly await your answer.”

with a sigh, you raise your hand to signal your servants to stop. all of them slowly step away from your figure as you grimace at your reflection. a white girdle wrapping around your frame and decked from head to toe with gold — you truly looked like a prize to be won. you turn on your heels and walk out of the comforts of your room, the high council and servants following you as your head remains low and eyes strained on the marble floor. the intricate swirls of red and gold marble, its presence guiding you the banquet hall, stir a bittersweet ache in your chest, reminding you of the weight of what will transpire today. shouts and whistles of men grow louder and louder, the noise making you tug at the red cloth in your hair. taking a deep breath, you steadied your nerves as the giant doors in front of you opened.

everyone stills like statues of grand heroes as you walk to your throne. your mother and father sit beside you and like any other day after deciding you were of age to marry. you father reminds you sternly about who to choose.

“a king must be courageous; unafraid of the lengths of danger to protect his kingdom.”

“does this length of danger include the death of his spouse?”

you don’t miss the sudden flash of panic in your father’s eyes as you continue to gaze at the massive banquet hall. heart hammering in your chest as one by one, your suitors came to the front to introduce themself. you barely gave them any attention, only prompting you to give a nod of acknowledgement. from the corner of your eye, you see your father whispering to a council member. they both look at you with a hint of agitation but you only shift your gaze in front. at one point, you had grown parch from all their introductions and asked for a servant to bring you a drink. as you sip the wine from your cup as each man grew bolder and bolder. you don’t recall them having to witness their introductions this close.

irritation flared in you when you notice one of the guards stationed in front of your throne let one suitor approach you closely. if you had not glared at the guard, he would have only stood there, playing ignorant.

“enough,” your voice cut through the hall like a sharp knife. every man in the room — mother, father and council included — looked at you in shock. “i’ve had enough of listening to nonsensical chatter. we will settle this engagement the old fashioned way.”

before you can take another step down your throne, you feel your father tug at your arm in a single harsh motion. his eyes were blazing with frustration, searching for any reason why you would do this. in his survey, his eyes eventually settle on the piece of red cloth keeping your hair together before drifting to the band of gold on your right arm, the single blue bead mocking him as it glistened. you feel an onslaught of pride shattering words bubble in his throat but you don’t give him the chance to say them.

you dash down to the center table of the hall and take off the cloth hiding a giant spear.

“whoever can wield my husband's old spear, and shoot it through twelve axes cleanly will be the new king, sit on the throne and rule with me as the monarch.”

the hall murmurs in confusion at your challenge. for all they knew, you were as pure as morning dew — unmarried. you tilt your head high, urging anyone to try and wield the heavy weapon. the challenge seemed easy enough on paper, but as the twelve axes were set in place and as you stood on the other end of them, no suitor dared to move from their place.

“[name] you will cease this behavior this instant and call off this challenge!” your father’s loud voice echoes in the hall as everyone turns their heads to stare you down. but you proudly stare back, face cold as you watch if anyone tries while your father angrily makes his way to the center table with the spear.

“how did you get this?!” he asks, turning to look at every staff member and council member present. “who gave it to you?! do you understand what you’ve done, child? you’re asking for a death wish!”

“you and i know, father, that the person who wields that weapon would not let a single scratch appear on my person.” you proudly exclaim, cradling the band on your arm tenderly.

the guards present in the hall slowly circle your figure, weapons glinting in a deadly light as they point the blade to you. the silence following your proclamation was followed by a loud clattering of the spear against the marble floors echoes as your father struggles to stow it away. his frustration and your amusement was palpable — he might have been this kingdom’s most formidable fighter, but he still wasn’t a match for your lover. his eyes glare at you as you laugh, the sound so mocking more and more men began to try their luck but no one could even lift it an inch above the ground.

and then, the doors of the hall swings open with a thundering crash.

unconscious bodies of guards fall beneath his feet as his presence commanded the attention of everyone. clad in golden armor and a red tunic, mydei’s fierce eyes didn’t linger for even a second on anyone in the room until they settled on you. a glint of recognition and equal amusement flock his eyes — uncovering the many layers of depth of your history together.

the suitors part like the waves as he makes his way to the fallen spear on the floor. mydei easily lifts the spear in one fluid motion, ripping off the red cloth binding the golden blade. your breath hitches in your throat as memories of a past your family tried so hard to bury come rushing out — images of past battles and sacrifices, side by side you conquered, and a love too strong fate had to intervene.

your husband has come to get you.

“i accept this challenge.” his voice is steady and calm, it cuts through every person in the room.

you don’t move an inch in your spot on the other end of the axes, even as mydei prepared to shoot. gasps ripple through the walls, you remain unafraid of the man you know would find you no matter the distance. your father pales in the distance, ordering the remaining guards to disarm him immediately. he steps forward, blocking his shot, and angrily glares at the prince.

“you are the reason for [name]’s curse! you were the one to poison my child’s thinking with those relics from the past. they are no longer your lover! begone and never return!” he shouts but with one forceful shove, your father was face to face with the floor.

mydei’s grip on the spear tightens as he steps past your father, voice an octave lower and seething with rage.

“‘poison?’” he asks, incredulously. eyes narrowed dangerously at your father’s pitiful state on the floor. “is that what you call loyalty that defies death itself? or the truth you’ve tried to bury under lies and manipulation?”

he casts a quick glance at you as you chuckle under your breath. a brief moment of tenderness flicker in his gaze, a silent promise renewed.

your father desperately scrambles to his feet, his composure cracking under mydei’s presence and accusations. murmurs of questions erupts from the suitors. the high council pitifully tries to intervene, calling out to deafened ears, but they are overpowered by the man in red.

mydei shifts his focus back on the axes, ignoring your father’s weak protests. he hefts the spear with familiarity, wielding it as if it was as easy as breathing. the room watches with bated breath as he takes aim, you close your eyes and flashes of a younger warrior invades your mind.

his ash stricken arms and face, crying out to you to not leave him. with a small giggle, you oblige and vowed to fate itself, that if you were to ever leave his side, you will accept a punishment even worse than death.

mydei throws the spear. as it soars through the air, you hear the axes clamor to the ground one by one by your feet as a strong gust of wind passes the side of your head. when you hear the twelfth axe fall to the ground, you open your eyes to the sound of gasps and cries of astonishment.

mydei strides in confidence, kicking past every axe cut in half, his gaze is locked on yours. with each step, you’re reminded of your past with him. the red scarf gifted on your birthday to survive against the cold, a golden band with a singular bead of blue he crafted with his bare hands, and the experience honed after years of training with him. he stops right before you and drops to one knee, one hand to his chest as he plants the spear upright before him.

“you were always the reckless one between the two of us,” his low chuckle sent shivers down your spine, his gaze holding the weight of promises from past lives. “you remain to have the final say, my love. will you defy fate with me once more?”

as if to emphasize his words, flashes of the past glimmer in the back of your mind like a newly discovered gem. through bloodshed and sacrifices in vain — every bloody death centered around you — you find small moments of respite. beneath the shade of an olive tree, you and mydei find a moment of solace, resting side by side as the weight of your vow comes crashing down.

“you are a careless monarch,” he grumbles, ruffling the blonde hair you’ve kept neat despite the chaos. he sighs, chest heaving as he breathes and looks at you almost forlornly. “you’ve cursed yourself for eternity with me.”

“how is that a curse?” you rebut with a smile. you tear your eyes from him and suddenly the landscape darkens. stone by stone, a palace is built around the olive tree you both cherished. from your side, mydei stands. his helm in hand, his hands and voice commanding as more and more servants appear before you, while you sat idly by the tree’s base. a smile — soft and adoring — as mydei tries to hide the flush of his cheeks.

he turns his head slightly to ask, “an eternity with me… do you not find that revolting?”

you chuckle, your voice carrying a warmth that contrasts the night sky that’s making its presence known. “if it were eternity with anyone else, i would agree,” you reply, fingers brushing mindlessly at the bark of the olive tree. “my dear mydei, with you, it is a gift i would always ask for.”

he stills, movement halting with time as the palace is engulfed in flames. his gaze once sharp now softens as he approaches you, “you say that now,” he murmurs, kneeling before you. “but will you feel the same when the weight of eternity and fate crush you? when all but me begins to fade, and only we remain, will you still call the love that binds us a blessing?”

you cradle his face in your hand relish how he melts in your palm. even with the distant clamor of death and destruction, his eyes remained glued to you. gently, your fingers begin to brush against his cheek as he sighs in contentment. “love will always be a blessing for us. i will never regret loving you, mydei. not even for a single moment. through all the bloodshed, sacrifices, and lifetime… my heart has never wavered.”

mydei closes his eyes, “you have always been braver than i. always the first to shift the burden of us on your shoulders, even if doubts claws at you.”

“and i have you to thank for always being my reason,” you counter. “to fight, to endure, to hope. even in another life, i will always find my way back to you — or find a way for you to find me.”

the vision begins to fade, the palace halls taking life of its own, stretching far beyond the olive tree that remains at its heart — a symbol of your eternal love. even as the present rushes back, you find yourself clutching mydei’s hand, the warmth of his palm grounding you.

“and if i must be cursed,” your whisper, a loving smile gracing your lips. “then let it always be with you and no one else.”

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #—stellaronhvnters.#mydei x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #mydei x you #( 🂡 ) – royal flush of stories .ᐟ

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sojumamii · 3 months ago

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༊*·˚puppy love༊*·˚

summary: a first grade mission goes awry when megumi gets hits by a curses' attack that....turned him into a puppy?! now you, your friends and gojo are tasked with turning him back before it's too late!

tags: megumi fushiguro x f! reader, established relationship in-universe setting, fluff, crack, slice of life. snippy clingy puppy megumi, gojo's grubby hands.

warnings: swearing. unedited.

pt.1 pt.2

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

stupid fucking curse

stupid fucking itadori

stupid fucking kugisaki

stupid fucking GOJO

are all the thoughts rapid cycling through megumi's brain as he watches the three pairs eyes looking down at him, their statures intimidatingly big and tall from where he stands on the floor. the room is now suddenly bigger than he remembers just five minutes ago, all he can see at eye level are the ankles of every single person on his current hit list.

"ah! what the hell happened to fushiguro?!" yuji yells in panic as he looks down at megumi in confused panic.

the immature snickering coming from gojo and nobara explodes into a burst of rambunctious laughter, nearly falling over as they choke on air.

gojo clutches his stomach as he points down at megumi, teasingly cooing,"wow megumi thanks for taking one for the team!" he crouches down to take a closer look at megumi's new...fluffy appearance.

in front of the trio is a small tiny fluffy ball of black fur, a tiny snout nose, and two wide dark navy eyes that contain the coldest glare a puppy can hold. the toy pomeranian is an exact canine counterpart to their beloved brooding friend and student.

"oh crap...how the hell are we gonna explain this one to (y/n)?!" Yuuji mutters in shock.

"oh my god, the curse got turned into one of those yappy little mutts oh this is gold!" nobara wipes a tear from her glittery brown eyes as her laughter begins to fade out.

megumi growls and barks as he rushes to nip gojo and nobara's legs in retaliation.

"agh! you bratty little rat! i'll knock you across the room with my hammer if you do that again" the auburn haired girl shrieks, gritting her teeth, matching the ferocious expression on puppy megumi's boxy little face

"aww! meguuuuuumi you're just the cutest little thing c'mere!~" gojo coos mischievously as he reaches down for the poofy puppy

megumi yaps, running away from gojo's chasing hands, running through yuji's legs and circling around them in increasing panic and speed as gojo chuckles devilishly.

yuji grows dizzy following megumi's movements, he sighs to himself as he focuses on his movements before darting his hands out and snatching megumi away. megumi gives fight and thrashes in his arms growling before his new little body grows limp, his pink tongue hanging out his mouth as he pants in exhaustion.

yuji coos and scratches the top of his head,"alright you gotta calm down now fushiguro." he says as he strokes megumi's soft fur

megumi huffs as if saying,'how can you expect me to be calm?!'

gojo chuckles before picking up his phone to dial ijichi,"we should head back to the school, we'll take him to shoko to get him checked out, and in the meantime i'll see if yaga or nanami can find out any information about that curse," he says walking over to yuji and bending forward to be face to face with his now-canine student.

"and oh by the way," he looks up to yuuji's hazel eyes,"i won't be the one explaining to our sweet little angel what happened to her boyfriend, i'm sure you guys got that covered," he smirks before reaching a sneaky hand to scratch megumi's ears, earning him a growl and snap of megumi's teeth. he quickly retracts his hand,"okay okay geez..."

megumi sighs in his head, mentally wondering how you're doing as today was your long overdue and well deserved day off from missions. he wonders if you're having a better day either doing nothing or cleaning your dorm like said you would

he lets out a groan that in his new form comes out as a sad little puppy whimper when he thinks about how the hell is he gonna explain this new predicament to you...and if he can ever break the curse....

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

"Ahh~ it's so clean in here finally!" you happily sigh to yourself taking in the sight of your now neat and tidy dorm room, having been a tornado of clothes, books, and empty beverage bottles due to back to back missions and the never ending cycle of classes. the soft sounds of your favorite music plays in the background and the cozy warmth of the fairy lights adds a more relaxed welcoming atmosphere to your room.

rarely do you ever spend time in here even on your days off or after said missions and classes.

opting to give into megumi's not-so subtle ways of you making you sleep and stay in his own dorm room, which he's progressively losing good excuses just making random nonsense that makes you laugh and wonder why your pretty boy keeps trying to make up excuses when you'd never say no.

'don't you just prefer the direct my room faces? the sun isn't blinding you first thing in the morning?' (you have curtains)

'my water pressure is better' (the dormitories at jujutsu tech have the same exact showers)

your delicate face unconsciously smiles brightly at the thought of your stoic little lover boy, you fondly stare the photo of the two of you on your most recent date at a bookstore-coffee shop that had just opened.(well it was supposed to be a date but yuji and nobara crashed it)

you clip it onto the wall above your desk, adorned with string lights along with other photos of megumi and yourself, and many with yuji, nobara, and gojo...and a cute one you goaded nanami into.

looking at the photo it reminds you that your friends and teacher should in fact be back soon...and that you actually haven't heard from megumi since he texted you that he got to the mission sight. you can't help but to worry but as if right on cue there's a knock on your door.

you squeal beaming with excitement as you skip to open the door

only to reveal

nothing?

huh?!

you look out left right frantically and confused as to who was just at your door.

did you miss megumi that badly you imagined he knocked?

you're snapped out of your thoughts when you hear a little bark, surprised you look around for the source of the sound until you hear it again.

you look down and see a fluffy ball of black fur, wagging it's tail and running in tiny circles and yipping for your attention.

you coo and crouch down to scoop up the palm sized creature,"hey little guy, whatcha doin out here?"

it responds excitedly jumping into your hands and sniffing and licking your face affectionately. you giggle and pull it away from your face,"alright alright i get it you're cute but where'd you come from?" you ask as if it can respond.

when you stare at it face to face for a few seconds...the dog feels familiar...in a weird way, even the way it's eyes stare back at you feels almost human...

you did love to joke that if megumi had a dog form it would not be like the beautiful wolfy appearance of his divine dogs, but the form of a snappy little pomeranian with his hair and sassy attitude. it almost feels like divine intervention that a yippy pomeranian showed up at your door when you started miss and worry about your boyfriend. was this little guy a gift? no, megumi said his shikigami were the closest things to pets you could have....or maybe this is one the staffs' pet? or maybe just a stray...?

then you start to think a little too hard...

bringing the puppy that's still happily wagging it's tail in your hands up to your face you let out a sigh,"You know you kind of remind me of my boyfriend, he's got hair and lashes just like you-no.no.no. it can't be?" you shake your head in disbelief there's no way this dog is megumi fushiguro himself. the dogs yips as if it to say yes.

'it is me damn it!' megumi thinks to himself as he huffs in your arms, he feels a little off balance as you stand up with him and listens to you mutter different possibilities to yourself.

you perk up and gasp when you realize something off about it and bring the puppy back up to your face to interrogate megumi some more.

"hey! you have cursed energy! are you someone's shikigami? is this how they're getting rid of me?" you step out into the hallway, your senses on high alert but there's no sign of a curse user anywhere.

you gasp again- that's megumi's cursed energy signature.

"oh my god-! gumi?!" you ask incredulously, raising him up in the air in front of you. he huffs in confirmation, his little body having grown tired from his efforts of trying to communicate. man being in such a small body is tiring...

"ah crap she figured it out!" you hear yuuji's panicked voice say from behind you.

"damn it...we're really in for it now!" nobara cuts in like clockwork.

you slowly turn around, staring at them in wide eyed disbelief,"what the hell happened out there? how did megumi get like this?" you're asking but there's a snippy essence in your tone that feels like you're being rhetorical. like you're scolding all three of them (mostly nobara and yuuji, you feel bad scolding megumi right now, I mean, look at that little face)

you hug megumi to your chest, stroking his fur comfortingly,"aw my poor gumi, don't worry we'll figure out how to change you back," you smile reassuringly,"if it's any consolation you're even cuter as a puppy..."

he grunts and petulantly tucks himself into your neck, his wet nose pressed your warm skin he seeks your scent and presence. he lets out a soft huff once he gets comfortable, his little body now limp and relaxed as he succumbs to slumber in your arms.

your heart squeezes in both fondness and worry. this whole situation while unexpected and slightly worrisome, is rather comedic. much to his dismay, a snippy little pomeranian is what you often compare him to, and now like a metaphorical prophecy: he is one.

you look at the disaster twins, remarking their nervous smiles you playfully roll your eyes and chuckle,”look lets get him to shoko, you’ll explain everything there.” you direct them both, leading the way to the infirmary. after a minute you halt your steps, sharply turning to your classmates,”wait a second,” you look around,”where the hell is gojo?”

yuji and nobara avoid your eyes stupidly whistling and kicking rocks, wincing when you growl and stomp angrily toward the infirmary.

“stupid white haired bastard good for nothing guardian blindfolded idiot…” you grumble angrily.

the disaster twins sigh, also cursing gojo for leaving them to deal with your reaction to megumi’s predicament. they follow after you, heads down like scolded toddlers.

“not fair that fushiguro gets to be cute and nap…” yuji whines

nobara nods,” y’know i used to wonder how fushiguro bagged someone as good and pretty as (y/n) of all people…but after seeing her temper…they’re made for each other.

though you’re ahead of them, your heightened senses allow you to hear nobara’s words, filling you with warmth and a soft smile gracing your delciate features as you look down at the sleeping puppy in your arms, kissing the top of his head.

“she’s right gumi…we really are. you'll be back before you know it."

to be continued….

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

RAAAAH second (and last.) fic of 2024 and it’s a series! First fic was published on here back at the end of May which is crazy that much time has passed since then! “always a brat” was a spur of the moment drabble and I had no idea it was going to get the love and traction it did, which I am grateful for and very touched! thank you to everyone who supported it, and I hope you like this new installment!

Happy New Year! May you have an even better 2025!

-v

#megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi fluff #megumi x reader #megumi x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

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fangdokja · 4 months ago

Text

"I burned their world for daring to look at you— imagine what I’d do if you tried to leave."

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Emperor x Reader

♡ Headcanons. #1

♡ Word Count. 859

Your silence will teach you loyalty.

His voice resonates through the throne room like a hammer against steel—unyielding, inescapable. You flinch at the sharpness of his tone, though no one dares to meet your eyes. The air shifts with his unspoken command. Chains, deceptively delicate yet unrelentingly cruel, wind around your wrists as you’re dragged toward him. They clink like a funeral bell, heralding your fate.

A single nod from him seals your fate—chains of silver, intricate but cruel, bite into your wrists as you’re dragged to his side.

“You are mine,” he murmurs, his breath a phantom tracing your ear. The words latch onto you, branding your skin and soul with their weight.

Defiance, he knows, is only temporary.

He savors every crack in your resistance. A predator by instinct and a conqueror by blood, he strips you bare of your defenses with a glance. His golden eyes, aflame with possession, hold you captive. His scarred hands grip your jaw, tilting your face until his gaze becomes all you know.

“Say it,” he demands, voice low but edged with menace. “Say who you belong to.”

When you hesitate, his grip tightens, sending a jolt through your core. The whisper that follows chills you. “Don’t worry, dove. You’ll scream it eventually.”

He builds his empire with the blood of dissent.

The scent of war never leaves him. Iron and death cling to his crimson-stained cape as it sweeps across the marble floors. You are displayed before the court like a trophy—a living testament to his dominance. His voice drips with mockery as he addresses the nobles, who laugh with hollow obedience. “This one thought she could defy me,” he announces, amusement laced with cruelty.

When the audience disperses, leaving the hall echoing and empty, his hand circles your throat—not to crush, no. He revels in your pulse quickening beneath his fingers, in the fragile truth of your mortality.

“I could break you so easily,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your skin with unnerving tenderness. “But then, where’s the fun in that?”

Fear is the wine he drinks by the chalice.

Within his chambers, the air is heavy, suffused with him—his presence, his control. The moonlight seeps through stained glass, painting him in fractured colors as he corners you against the ornate bedpost. Each deliberate step crushes any hope of escape.

“Do you fear me because you despise me,” his voice dripping with saccharine malice, lips barely inches from yours, “or because you’ve realized you’ll never escape me?”

Your trembling hands shove weakly against his chest, but he only laughs—a low, wicked sound that curls around your spine. “Struggle harder, little dove. I love it when you make me work for it.”

Your will is his favorite plaything.

He gives you everything but freedom. He smothers you with opulence. Gowns that pool like liquid gold at your feet, jewels heavy enough to weigh you down—his eyes going dark with arousal as he watches you wear them.

They shimmer under his gaze, but it’s you, not the ornaments, that hold his attention. You are his masterpiece, his conquest perfected. A doll under luxurious chains, a living, breathing masterpiece of his tyranny.

One night, his voice slices through the stillness like a blade. “Kneel.”

You hesitate, if only for a heartbeat. It’s long enough.

The slap that follows doesn’t break you—it’s never meant to break you. Instead, it reinforces a lesson, sharp and stinging. He pulls you into his lap after, hand cradling your face as though he hadn’t just hurt you. “Good girls obey without question,” he chides, stroking your hair deceptively gentle. “Shall we try again?”

He would raze worlds to keep you.

The rebellion whispers your name, and the news reaches him like a spark meeting dry tinder. Entire villages are erased in retaliation, his soldiers torching homes and slaughtering innocents. He sits atop his warhorse, impassive as flames devour homes and screams ring out like a hymn to his fury.

“She must learn,” he muses to his general, tone soft but final. “There’s nowhere she can run where I won’t find her.”

Your cries are a symphony, and your screams are his prayers.

Even punishment carries an unsettling intimacy. When you lash out, his arms cage you close, his voice a shiver against your ear. “Hush, my little dove,” he croons, brushing tears from your cheeks. “This hurts me more than it hurts you.” But the glint in his eyes betrays the pleasure he takes in your brokenness.

"Even death wouldn’t save you."

He keeps you in a gilded cage, both figuratively and literally, beautiful as it is impenetrable. The locks are ornate, crafted by the empire’s finest smiths, close to unbreakable. Exhausted, you collapse against the silk cushions of his bed.

He watches you sleep, an unsettling softness overtaking his features as his fingers trail across your cheek.

“If you were to die,” he whispers to the shadows, “I would burn this world to the ground and carve your image into its ashes.”

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rafes-slut · 1 month ago

Note

Maybe you'll write something smutty related to Morocco? <3

Hope you will like it..xx

Desert Heat

Summary: rafe was forced to be with pouges in morcco and that meant you too. So when he gets chance to pull you aside and take you he does so. While pouges are looking and calling for you.

Warnings: Explicit content, rough sex, semi-public setting, dub-con elements, strong language, tension-filled dynamic, Rafe being possessive and dominant.

----

You should’ve known better than to wander off alone.

The crowded streets of Morocco were suffocating—too hot, too loud, and too packed with people brushing past you on every side. The Pogues were somewhere nearby, their voices echoing through the narrow alleys as they searched for whatever piece of treasure they were after this time. You were supposed to stick with them. But the second you saw him, your feet carried you away before your brain could catch up.

Rafe fucking Cameron.

He was the last person you wanted to see here—especially after the way the two of you left things. The tension between you had been festering for weeks, a sick mix of hate and something far more dangerous. Every time he looked at you, his blue eyes burned right through you. Every time he opened his mouth, it was to get under your skin.

But none of that explained why you felt your pulse race whenever he was near.

You were trying to slip away, blend into the crowd before he noticed—

But he always noticed.

A strong hand wrapped around your wrist out of nowhere, yanking you into the shadows between two buildings. You gasped, but before you could scream, another hand clamped over your mouth.

“Shh.”

His voice was low, rough against your ear.

“Missed me, pretty girl?”

You froze, heart hammering against your ribs as his body pressed up behind you. Heat rolled off him in waves—sticky and suffocating under the blazing Moroccan sun.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You struggled against him, but he only squeezed your waist tighter—his fingers digging into your hips through your thin tank top.

“Cut it out,” you hissed, your voice muffled behind his palm.

Rafe chuckled darkly, finally uncovering your mouth.

“Not my fault you keep running.”

You spun to face him, breath catching at how fucking good he looked. Sweat glistened on his tanned skin, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to show off the gold chain resting against his collarbone. He looked like sin—like trouble wrapped in expensive linen.

“Let me go, Rafe.”

He smirked, eyes flicking over your face.

“You don’t sound like you mean that.”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, heat pooling low in your stomach. You hated him—hated how easily he got to you. Hated how he always seemed to know exactly what you needed before you even admitted it to yourself.

“You’re fucking sick,” you whispered.

Rafe’s smirk only grew.

“Yeah?” He backed you further into the building behind you, the door clicking shut. The room was small—dusty and half-abandoned, with a cracked wooden table standing in the middle. Sunlight filtered through a broken window, casting slanted lines across the floor.

“You’ve been dying for this.” He crowded into you, his chest brushing yours. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think no one’s watching.”

Your breath caught, shame burning under your skin—because he wasn’t wrong.

Rafe always knew how to twist the knife.

“Fuck you.”

His hand shot out, gripping your jaw—forcing you to look up at him.

“That what you want, huh?” he growled, blue eyes darkening.

You should’ve slapped him. You should’ve pushed him away and walked out.

Instead, you leaned into him.

His mouth crashed against yours—hot, messy, desperate. Weeks of tension snapped between you like a live wire. His hands were everywhere—grabbing, pulling, taking. He spun you around, bending you over the table before you could catch your breath.

“Rafe—”

His hand clamped over your mouth again.

“Quiet,” he ordered, voice low and threatening.

The Pogues were still calling your name somewhere outside—your heart racing faster with every echo of their voices.

“This what you wanted, huh?” Rafe’s breath was hot against your ear. His hips pressed hard against your ass, making you whimper into his palm. “Walking around in that little outfit… knew you were looking for trouble.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, your body betraying you with every shiver that ran down your spine. His free hand slipped beneath the waistband of your shorts, making you arch back into him without meaning to.

“Such a fucking tease,” he muttered. “Always running that mouth… but I knew you’d let me have you sooner or later.”

He shoved your shorts down just enough to bare you to him, fingers trailing between your legs—teasing, taunting. You bit down on the heel of his hand to muffle the pathetic noise that escaped you.

The voices outside got closer.

“Where the fuck did she go?”

JJ’s voice.

You froze—your breath catching in your throat.

Rafe just grinned against your neck, loving how fucking sick this was.

“Guess you better stay quiet, huh?”

Your heart hammered as he undid his belt with one hand, the leather sliding free with a low snap.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he whispered, pressing a messy kiss behind your ear. “I’ll make it quick.”

He pushed into you without warning—rough and deep—forcing a muffled cry from your throat. His hand stayed clamped over your mouth, holding you down as he fucked you hard against the table. The wood creaked beneath your weight, your fingernails digging into the splintered surface.

The whole time, the Pogues kept calling.

“Y/N!”

You could feel the sick smile against your neck, Rafe’s hips snapping harder every time your name echoed through the narrow streets outside.

“You’re so fucking filthy,” he growled.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes—not from pain, but from how fucking good it felt to finally give in to him. To finally let him ruin you the way you both knew he would.

It didn’t take long. It never did with him.

Rafe came with a low groan, his teeth sinking into your shoulder to muffle the sound. You followed seconds later—your whole body shaking under him as pleasure ripped through you.

He stayed buried inside you for a moment—both of you panting, sweat-soaked, and wrecked.

Then he pulled out, fixing his belt like nothing happened.

You scrambled to fix your clothes, heart still racing as he backed toward the door—smirking like the fucking devil.

“Better get out there before they start to worry,” he taunted, slipping out into the street like he hadn’t just fucked you half-senseless.

You stood there trembling—legs still shaking—until the voices finally faded.

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innerfare · 6 months ago

Text

I Can Handle It - Law

Summary: you’re a Straw Hat with Law in Wano. Grumpy dom Law won’t let you on top, makes you regret it when you convince him to let you.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Afab!Reader

Genre: smut

CW: dirty talk, unprotected sex (whoops), daddy Law

Word Count: 1,934

———

“Traffy, please.” You caught his gold hoops between your teeth and tugged as he undid the belt around your waist and tossed it aside.

“No.” Law tried to pull his ear out of your mouth as he pulled open your kimono, pleased to find nothing beneath it but your silken skin. In the dim moonlight shining through the window, he could only just make out the swell of your breasts and color of your nipples, the smooth skin of your stomach and the curve of your hips.

Perfection, he thought, relieved that captain of yours wasn’t interested in keeping you all to his greedy self.

“Traffy,” you whined again. You lay on the thin mattress on the floor with the War Lord hovering over you, his hat discarded by the door to the room, your limbs tangled with his more muscular ones the second everyone else went to bed.

“I said, no.” He lifted a hand and batted your mouth away from his ear, though he missed the warmth as soon as he did. Luckily, you reattached your lips to his thick neck in a second, happily running your tongue over his muscles and tendons, marking up his smooth, tan skin. He was almost embarrassed by how quickly he had grown accustomed to fucking you each night, your lips attached to his neck every time, his mood sour if you skipped a night.

“I don’t understand why you won’t let me on top.” You pushed on his heavy body, twice the size of yours. You were caged between his arms and legs, his tattooed chest blocking most of the moonlight filtering in through the window. You had tried flipping him over several times, had tried biting him and distracting him and doing all sorts of things to gain the advantage when you two were together, but every time, he just pinned you back beneath him and bottomed out inside you. And you were powerless when he did that, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he worked the tension out of both your bodies.

“Because.”

“Because why?” You tried shoving him off of you again, though only half-heartedly. The embarrassing truth was, you’d accept whatever Law gave you.

Trying to ignore you, he grabbed one of your breasts and squeezed. He kneaded the soft flesh a few times before moving to the other one. It was exactly what he needed, your intimate parts exposed to him. He’d quickly become addicted to the way your body calmed his, the way you relieved his tension like a human stress ball.

But just as he dipped his head low to trap your perky nipple between his lips, one of his favorite things to do to you, you shifted beneath him.

“Law.”

Law gave a heavy sigh. He dropped his head between your breasts, brows furrowed. “It’s been a long day, y/n-ah. Can’t we just-”

“You never let me on top,” you interrupted. You bit his ear again, this time ignoring the gold hoops and clamping your teeth down directly onto his earlobe.

“Ugh.” He batted you away again. “All you Straw Hats do is ride rough shod over me. I can’t possibly be expected to also roll over when I’m fucking you.”

“It’s not like that,” you whined, going for his earlobe once more. “Please, Law, I really want to. I can handle it, I promise. And I won’t bother you for it again. Just this once, let-”

“Fine.” He pulled off you and fell onto his back, letting out another heavy sigh as he resigned himself to your pleas. “You can ride me.”

You pulled back from his ear and blinked in surprise. “Really?”

Law grunted. His heart hammered in his chest, the erection between his legs throbbing painfully. He wasn’t sure why he was so desperate to get off seeing as though you’d been together just the night before, and every night before that for the past two weeks, but he felt as though he hadn’t orgasmed in months.

“Hurry up already,” he snapped at you, wearing a grimace on his face.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You climbed on top of him with an eager smile and sat down on his erection, gasping when you felt it push into you. Your eyes almost rolled into the back of your head from that alone, but you managed to stop them from doing so. Law already thought you couldn’t handle being on top, and you didn’t want to prove him right.

You began kissing his neck while your fingers worked to undo his kimono. You took advantage of your increased access to his body, splaying your hands out over his chest when the garment came off and sliding them down his abdomen, feeling all of the defined muscles on his body. His skin was soft and warm, his tattoos mapping out endless paths for you to trace.

“I said, hurry up.”

“Grumpy,” you muttered, moving below his hips. You sank your teeth into your bottom lip at the sight of his cock, thick and hard, veiny with a slight curve in it. You wanted to press a few kisses into his heavy balls before wrapping your lips around the flushed tip of his cock, but you were as eager as Law to get off, so you raised yourself up and aligned the tip with your wet entrance, moaning as soon as his cock brushed against you.

Bracing one hand on his muscular chest and using the other to guide his cock into you, you slowly sank down. You quivered around him, eyes wide from the stretch. You thought his cock might feel bigger with you on top, but you had never imagined it might feel this much bigger, almost too big to take.

“You said you could handle it,” Law reminded you, not reaching up to play with your tits like you thought he would but instead putting his hands behind his head and watching you expectantly. It made your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“And I can.”

Though it was almost too much, you began moving up and down, your tits bouncing as you rocked your hips against his. You couldn’t take that last inch, but you took enough of him you thought for sure he would be a panting mess like you were. But when you looked down at him, you saw he wore his poker face, looking up at you with a neutral expression. You gritted your teeth and went a little faster in an attempt to make him break, but to no avail. The Warlord just watched you with a slightly skeptical look in his eyes.

“Rub your clit.”

Your eyes widened. “What?” You paused to brush a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead.

“I said, rub your clit.” He huffed. “You’re really not listening tonight.”

“I am listening,” you snapped back, “but I’m a little busy right now. Do it yourself.”

Law raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought you could handle it.”

“I can handle it!” You made a frustrated sound and began rocking your hips again, this time putting one of your hands between your legs. As soon as your finger touched your clit, your legs shook. You tried to recover quickly, but from the sound Law made- something like a chuckle- you knew he saw you almost collapse on top of him. Gritting your teeth, you continued rubbing your finger over your clit, trying your hardest to swallow your whines and whimpers.

“This isn’t working,” Law told you, finally pulling his hands from behind his head and placing them on your hips.

You shuddered at the feel of his warm, calloused palms against your bare skin, feeling the first trace of your orgasm, your body good and ready for you to cum. “It most definitely is.”

Law pulled your hand away from your clit and trapped it in his. “You’re tiring yourself out too quickly. If I wanted a quickie, I would have pulled you aside while everyone else had dinner and fucked you then.” With those words, putting the scandalous idea into your head, he pushed you even closer to the edge.

“Traffy.”

“You know you’re not supposed to call me that,” he scolded, tightening his grip on you. He pulled his legs up so they were no longer straight in front of him, bracing himself with his feet. You felt his muscles coil, and you braced for him to flip you over. But he didn’t. Instead, he began fucked up into you.

“Oh, fuck.” You keeled over pathetically, bottom lip quivering.

“See,” Law said, thrusting into you again. “I knew you couldn’t handle it.”

“Shut up.”

“And now you’re getting bratty.”

“I am not getting bratty.”

“You are.” He continued thrusting into you at a slow but steady pace. “What do you call me, huh? What do you call me?”

You opened your mouth, but the only thing that fell from your lips was a moan.

His hand left your hip and came down on your ass with a loud smack. “Say it.”

“Daddy.” Tears pricked at your eyes. “Daddy, please.” You managed to pick yourself up and look down at him, only in time for him to smack your ass again, this time much, much harder than he did before and set a merciless pace with his thrusts.

A yelp loud enough to wake your nearby sleeping crews escaped your lips. You clamped your hand over your mouth. You braced the other on his chest, but it wasn’t enough to hold you up as Law pounded into you, and you ended up curled into his chest with your nails tearing into his tattoo. You whined and whimpered, the sounds just barely muffled by your hand.

“I guess I could let you on top more often,” Law grunted. “I didn’t realize you’d fold so easily. Like a rag doll.” He never talked dirty to you, barely even moaning when the two of you were together. The words were sharp and poignant, cutting right through you.

You clenched around him. “Oh, daddy. Fuck.” You keeled over on top of him, pressing your forehead into his hard chest as your orgasm worked its way through your body, your limbs spasming and your cunt clenching harder around his cock. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You screwed your eyes shut as they rolled into the back of your head. Your fingers twitched against his chest.

Law didn’t stop. He fucked you dumb, letting out his pent up frustration. He finally reached up and played with your tits like he’d been wanting to do the entire time you were on top of him, twisting your nipples perhaps a little too hard. He could see your bottom lip quivering, could tell you’d never cum so hard on his cock, but he just couldn’t stop, especially not when you kept chanting the same word over and over.

“Daddy. Daddy. Daddy.”

He held back his orgasm as long as he could, but it wasn’t too long before the rubber band in his belly snapped and he shot his load deep inside you, emptying his balls with a few uncharacteristically loud grunts.

You collapsed on top of him, both of your heaving chests pressed together, a sheen of sweat on your skin. You could feel his cum seeping out of you, but you didn’t have it in yourself to care, not with your legs still so weak.

“Might have to try that again,” Law admitted after a minute, wrapping his arms around you.

You could only hum in agreement.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

#one piece #trafalgar law #law #law one piece #trafalgar law smut #law smut #trafalgar law x afab!reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #straw hat pirates #one piece smut

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glassrowboat · 2 months ago

Text

In Your Capable Hands. Mydei.

Summary: Chartonus himself claims Mydei's weapon holds divinity, majesty, and compassion all in the temper of a single spear head, a fitting weapon for a man like him. Regal, seemingly unforgiving, but kind all the same. It's why you never hesitate to take the blade from him even when it's still covered in blood to wash it all away despite the thoughts that still linger in your mind about the man from Castrum Kremnos.

I should not be trusted with my knowledge of blacksmithing// Suggestive //not proofread, but it's 1am for me

The towel in your hands had received one cut already, splitting it in half on the edge of a dull blade. It was desperate to stay together, even if it meant a few scraggly bits of red string dyed in the ichor of life were the only thing keeping it whole; as one.

Beneath the cloth was a spear, one that had also been broken. Time and time again, you had fixed it at the behest of your master Chartonus, only to have to once again piece it back together the next time Mydei had come to the smithy with guilt on his face and an apology for being too rough with your work. Yet he would always do it again.

At first you had told him off, or tried to, as you told him he needed to prioritize his weapon just as much as a man would his life, but....well, it made sense that argument hadn't exaclty resonated with him.

So once again, you sat at your workbench with Mydei waiting paitently at the counter. His arms were crossed as he watched the people pass by. Two little boys had stopped to say hello. To call him their big brother and share how excited they are for their next training session before running along as children do. Another had been one of his own men. They only exchanged a brief nod before they both went along their day. And lastly, there was you: occasionally given a word or two as you worked.

It helped pass the time, so you welcomed it well enough, answering any questions he had about how busy you had been today or your thoughts on the weather. Small talk, really, but it helped keep your mind busy enough and wouldn't distract you from what you were trying to get done.

Finally, you tossed the rag aside. It landed with a wet thwap in the metal bin.

"It's not broken. It just needs some sharpening." You said as you lifted the spearhead up to catch a stray beam of light.

Those with an untrained eye wouldn't even notice the cracks in the blessed metal, but those that could would always see it clear as day. It almost reminded you of kintsugi, but this was your masters work and not someone with an eye for gold who needed to pieceback together a broken bowl.

"That's fine." You heard behind you, Mydei's gruff voice filling your ears now that there wasn't a hammer going to town on an unfinished sword.

"Right, just give me a moment, then."

His head turned back to look at you, golden eye watching as you pried the nails keeping it mounted to the polished shaft and dropped them back down into a tin you kept close by for the smaller objects. It was full of tiny knicknacks just as much as it was full of soot and dust.

"What do I owe you for this?"

"The same as usual."

Meaning: Aglaea would cover it.

He hummed at that, wordlessly telling you he heard what you said.

"You know, with the amount of times I've done this for you, I'd think you would have figured it out on your own." Your hand dropped into the bucket of water at your side to pull out the whetstone. It had been soaking for long enough now, to the point you hadn't spotted a single bubble rising to the top of the water to pop open once it was exposed to the open air.

You wiped your hand off on your pants as Mydei spoke.

"I find it's best to leave this to someone who knows exactly what they're doing."

"If you say so. Or maybe you just can't get the hang of it."

The blade met the rock before you with a soft tap as you adjusted the angle, doing your best to get the proper forty-five degree angle you wanted before starting. The moment you did, you ran the blade up and down the block. You had once compared the grating to nails on a chalkboard, and in a way, you did still feel that same soft withdrawal tugging at you, but it came with a tinge of comfort now instead of a need to make it stop.

Your hands did the rest. Years of practice paying off as muscle memory took over, leaving your mouth free to prattle.

"Well, I can always walk you through it." You offered.

"There's no need."

"It'll be good to know."

His boots thudded behind you, creating a soft click every time the heel met the bricks below you both as Mydei slowly approached to stand behind you. You could feel him towering over you from where you sat. Even when you were standing, he always had to look down at you, leaving you feeling small in comparison, but the way his shadow loomed over you now as it blocked out the light coming from Kephale only made you all the more aware of that fact. "I already know how. I just want to leave the proper care to someone who knows how to treat it delicately."

The grating stopped for just a moment as your hands stilled. "Yeah? So you know that you have to start at the base before working your way up to the tip?"

"I know you skipped honing the blade."

"...Wasn't needed."

Your attention narrowed back on the blade, its distinct smell of rusted blood drowned out by...him. It was obvious he hadn't stopped by the baths to wash off before visiting you, clearly finding his weapon for more importance, leaving Mydei covered in sweat that had yet to be washed away. You had picked it up before when you had taken the spear from him after he had dropped it on the work table, but now it was suffocating you.

Gone was the ash you knew was filling your nostrils and staining the black from keeping the fire beside you both alight and roaring.

"And I would have done it, possibly ruining the blade in the process and having to bring it back here regardless. I'm just being efficient."

The thought to shoot back with the fact a metal blessed by the Titan's themselves wasn't that delicate lingered in your mind, but that thought was quickly quenched by the feeling of metal claws on your shoulder. You could feel the pinpricks of them poking at your skin, just barely digging in. It was cold in comparison to the heat you had been surrounded by all day, making it a welcome change even when you were still on high alert about just who was behind you.

And for some reason, you almost wished his soft hold on you would tighten just enough. You could feel those claws breaking your skin.

"Right. Well....good call then."

You couldn't help but cringe at how you stammered over your words, but it seemed to be enough to satisfy whatever Mydei had wanted from you as he backed away and returned to the spot he had been collecting dust in before.

"What was that?" You whispered to yourself.

Shaking that entire encounter off the best you could, your attention went back to the blade in your hand, now noticeably held at a fifty degree angle.

Wrong.

It was wrong.

Your head shook side to side.

"You know, it might be best to go out and shop for a bit, Lord Mydei. This will take some time, and I want to see about hammering out the dents in your pauldron. Maybe shining it too if you take too long to get back."

You didn't risk looking back at him, not when you were unsure why desire had come over you so quickly.

Not even when you knew he was wordlessly taking off the armor on his shoulder. Each little chime of a buckle being undone made you move your hands a little faster and press the blade just a bit too hard into the whetstone.

You'd have to properly attend to it later. Check it. See if it needs replaced-

You flinched as the bronze metal filled your eyes, the familiar shape of it delicately placed down by your side.

"Calm down. Haven't I told you before that I'm not a mindless brute?"

Swallowing, you got out a yes.

"Then"- His head ducked down, meeting you at the same height to give Mydei a chance to glance at you properly. Your thighs clenched at having him so close, the heat from before having barely even dwindling and now reigniting as if you had used a bellow to cause a stir. Like this, you couldn't meet his eye. Not when you weren't sure if it would mean you would be tempted to break the space between you.

Ultimately, he pulled away. "Forget it."

A moment of silence passed.

"You should leave me your gauntlets as well."

"Fine."

They soon joined the growing pile on your table, rattling it and causing it to tilt to the side now that there was more weight where the one uneven leg was. You had been meaning to fix it, but like many things in your day to day life, it had gone unattended to.

"I'll get to that right away."

"Then we're done here?"

"Yes, Lord Mydei."

He pushed himself away from you, boots thudding against the stone once again as he headed back to the busy street full of colorful fabrics and stalls just waiting to be perused at his leisure. A single merchant had even waved to him, hoping to draw Mydei in with promises of a sale. Their hand hung in the air, yet his eyes turned back to you.

Only to see you staring right back at him. You could only hope the heat you felt in your cheeks wasn't noticeable, or at least could be passed off as a side effect of the sunny day. "Ah, goodbye then."

His hands, covered in callouses and scars painting his fingers to his palm, slid into the pockets of his trousers, hiding away just how big they were. "What time should I come to pick everything back up?"

"Well, given I'm handling your gauntlets, too, I'd say tomorrow morning."

"I'll leave it in your capable hands." With that, he walked away.

You watched for a moment, lips pinched together before dropping your head down to the table before you to groan.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

That's what you were.

You wanted to scream and shout, maybe even go and kick that one beam in the smithy you always abused when you were agitated with your latest project. Anything would do as long as it took the edge off of where your mind was drifting as you looked back at the gauntlet before you, the five clawed fingers curled just so.

Stupid. It's stupid.

And worst off, in your own fit of self-denial, you had missed the way Mydei has adjusted himself in his pants in a desperate attempt to hide himself away.

#hoyoverse #gn reader #mydei #mydei x reader #mydei x you #mydei x y/n #hsr x reader #x reader #honkai sr #honkai star rail #cw suggestive

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