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kentoxo · 18 days ago

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friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt.9

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: prepare urself. next chapter may or may not be crazy. once again (the usual) spam of thank yous. all of your kind words both in replies and reblogs makes my heart sing. to those who said they want to be part of the taglist-- i reopened it! i might have missed those who recently asked to be on it so pls reply to this chapter so i can get you :( so sorry for my lack of meticulousness.

all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7, pt.8,

December | Tokyo, Japan | Saturday

You had to call out the following Thursday and Friday.

The cold you manifested was wreaking havoc on your body, the constant shivering now straining your muscles and bones. You couldn’t even find comfort in your bed, as you’d sneeze and cough, or dash to the bathroom during the waves of nausea. You were grateful to not have gotten frostbite, but damn this cold bites!

It was nice to have some space away from work, and Nanami. You deduced that this cold was inevitable, as the stress that loomed over since your confession (and second rejection). But this wasn’t fun either, as you could barely make yourself a cup of coffee while also having to answer Haibara every few minutes, who wanted to make sure you were doing well. It was bittersweet to say the least.

As you cuddle your heating pad meant for your tummy, you begin to scroll carelessly on your phone. Although it was your day off, and you were sick, you often liked to check your work emails. You like to be extra prepared for Monday, as those were the days when you have bigger workloads to tackle. As you scrolled, you stumbled upon an email directly from Takada shacho. Before you could open it however, there was a gentle knocking at your door.

“Coming…” you say weakly, quickly finding a mask on your bedside table. Comforting the straps around your ears, you make a slow walk towards your door. You get on your tiptoes to look through the peephole, only to back away in shock and slight embarrassment. “N-Nanami kacho? What are you… doing here?” You proceed to cough.

“I came to check on you,” Nanami hums from behind the door. “I know you’ve been sick due to my shortcomings. I wanted to see how you were faring.”

“A-ah, I see,” you stammer nervously. You were hoping not to see him until Monday, but luck still remains anywhere but your side. “You could have just called me as well…”

“I felt… that it would be best to come in person,” Nanami begins shyly. The sound of plastic shuffling joins. “I, um, also brought some things to treat you. If it’s okay with you, may I please come in?”

You go a bit pale, “um… I don’t really want to get you sick. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come in and–”

“I don’t care. I’d like to see you, and make sure you are well.” Nanami interrupts you with a stern tone. His words sounded non-negotiable, and you didn’t want to [fuck around and] find out if you refused his entry. Reluctantly, you unlocked your door and slowly opened it, revealing the tall man before you.

His hair was once again messy, lazily pulled back with his fingers. He was covered in snow, of course, but had gloves on to protect himself from potential frostbite. You look down at his two large bags he got from 7-Eleven. You move out of his way and let him place the bags down. He closes the door behind him, and begins to untie his scarf from around his neck. As he did, you offered your hands out to take it from him.

“Let me,” you offer in a hoarse voice.

Nanami looks down at you, “you’re sick. Thank you, but I can hang it myself. Please feel free to go back to bed.”

“A-ah, but you’re my guest,” you insisted through weak coughs. “My mom would reprimand me if she saw the way I was hosting you right now. I haven’t even boiled tea…”

Nanami, now just in a sweatshirt and his joggers, quickly puts on his slippers and offers his hand to you. You look up at him confused. “Come and sit down,” he coos, taking your hand and guiding you towards your living room. He gently allows you to take a seat on the couch, which is quite the relief considering you were exasperating just from answering the door.

Through small coughs, you watch as Nanami brings his bags to the kitchen, and begins to unpack them. He silently takes out a few vegetables and cartons of broth. A pool of pill bottles also leave the bag, along with other cold suppressants. “Can I,” you start hesitantly, your index fingers looping around one another, “can I offer you a cup of coffee?”

“No,” Nanami shot you down quickly, “I’d rather you rest than concern yourself with me. Though, the offer in your condition is very touching.”

Your cold now felt like a fever, as your cheeks went completely hot. You looked crazy, your hair and makeup undone. Your pajamas were ornate with little ducks, and you don’t even have tea prepared. And here was this effortless, handsome man in your house, with a pot in his hands and his eyes navigating your tiny kitchen. It was an honor to see him outside of his work clothes, as it still made your heart run.

“Are there any vegetables you don’t like?” Nanami asks gently.

You sit up promptly, staring distantly towards the pot that was now full of water and preparing to boil. “I’m not a big fan of daikon in my soup,” you reply awkwardly. “A bit too strong for me.”

Nanami looks over at you and gives you a small smile, “I would have never expected that you didn’t like daikon, Y/N.”

“In soup, I’m not a fan,” you quickly mend the confusion, “soups are meant to be calming, not crazy.”

“Daikon makes soup crazy?” Nanami continues, amused by your detest.

“It’s a bit much,” You exclaim weakly. “Just me personally, I can’t deal with all that sass.”

“Sass?” Nanami finally lets out a chuckle, “what a way to describe a vegetable you don’t like.” As he cleans the vegetables he provided, he couldn’t help but continue to smile. “So this is what you’re like outside of work,” he whispers to himself. But your ears catch his words quickly.

You feel your cheeks burn from shyness. But as you stared at the back of Nanami’s head, you remembered all the tears you’ve shed these last 2 weeks. Your heart still hurts, even while sharing a warm conversation like this. He was still the man who you confessed to, and broke your heart twice. You look distant towards your window, seeing the snow slowly fall over the city.

“You don’t have to cook for me, Nanami kacho,” you say quietly, “you have done enough, so thank you. I can do the rest from here.”

Nanami purposely ignores you as he begins to chop a carrot. “What do I have to do in order to stop you from calling me kacho?” Your neck snaps back to look at him, noticing Nanami’s seriousness from his side profile.

You drop your hands to grip the end of the couch, squeezing it to calm you down. “You’ve made it very clear what kind of relationship we have. It’s inappropriate otherwise, so from your perspective, I should proceed with calling you kacho.”

“Y/N, please.”

“Please what?” A bit of attitude left the tip of your tongue. You jump in fear. Just because you were hurt doesn’t change the fact that Nanami is still your boss. The man that signs off your hours. ”Ah, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to use that kind of tone. I just… think it’s best that we revert back to honorifics.”

“I disagree,” Nanami hums from the kitchen. He begins to look through your spice pantry (which you were surprised he knew where to find it) and pulls out your pepper. “How spicy would you like your soup?”

“You told me that you are my boss, and I am your assistant,” you repeated his words from the night before. “You want comradery but don’t see me as anything beyond your colleague.” You tighten your grip on your couch. “And...not so spicy, for the soup.”

You were sick. Having to bring this conversation up once more was making you even sicker.

“Y/N, I misspoke,” Nanami says firmly, closing the pot with a lid to allow the soup to simmer. He grabs a glass from your cupboard and goes over to pour water from the pitcher. Pouring the water generously, he makes his way over to you with a few of the pills he purchased. “Here, I have a few supplements you can take now. The painkillers will be for after you eat.”

“I know how to take care of myself,” you murmur. Nanami takes a seat next to you, pouring the pills into one hand while carefully handing you the water in the other. Lowering your mask, you swallow the pills like morsels, and follow it with sips of water. “Feel free to go after this. Thank you for setting up the soup, I can take it from here.”

Nanami eyes your face, making you blush even more. You were thankful that you were sick, as the hue on your cheeks can be explained by your current health. Putting the cup down, you quickly busy yourself once more by taking the decorative blanket on the couch and covering yourself with it. As you did, a finger appears before your face. You halt, watching as Nanami begins to drag some sort of salve on your lips. His middle finger gently drags the petroleum-like substance against your bottom lip, before swiping the rest against your top lip.

You could explode right then and there. Your nausea wave was a bit more intense, but more so from the intensity of Nanami’s gaze, and his touch against your chapped lips. Your heart was beating hard, and you couldn’t move. Like yesterday, you were frozen. His touch, despite his muscular stature, was gentle, soft. It felt like butter.

“S-sorry,” Nanami immediately pulled his hand away. He quickly looks away from you, hints of pink at the edge of his cheekbones. “I overstepped. I’m very, very sorry Y/N.”

“It’s fine,” you quickly spew, “just… wash your hands before you touch anything else or yourself. I would hate for you to get sick because of me.”

“A-ah, right,” he concurs, quickly jogging to the kitchen to wash his hands. Drying his hands with a towel, he once again joins you on the couch. “I will admit, I didn’t just come here to care for you. I wanted us to… discuss more about our conversation the other night.”

Here he goes. Opening a wound that is long but healed. “What else is there to talk about?” You say, coughing a bit to clear your throat. You felt light headed from how congested you are, especially since talking so much. And now, Nanami was forcing you to engage in a conversation that led to your feelings being hurt more. “We both expressed our feelings to one another, and came to the conclusion that our relationship should strictly stay as a coworker dynamic.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually,” Nanami begins quietly. His eyes keep at your coffee table, with fingers weaving together slowly. He looks pensive, like he’s looking for the right words to say. But even within those thoughts, he was uneasy. “Hold on.” In a moment, he pulls off his sweatshirt, revealing himself in a black, skin tight shirt. This would be the first time you truly saw his physique, seeing as the shirt hugs into the dents and divots of his pecs and abs. The short sleeves give temptation to his muscular arms. His torso was enough to make any woman submissive.

You look away, but still hold your ground, “if that is the case, then I’d like to apologize again for my feelings towards you. I’m working on letting them go so they no longer pose as a nuisance or discomfort for you. And if need be, I understand if you’d rather distant our work relationship, or transfer me back to Sales.”

This is when Nanami faces you again, “Y/N, look at me.”

His tone wasn’t aggressive nor strict, but you felt submissive to his request. You slowly turn, your eyes finding their way to his own. Hazel eyes bore into yours, and you noticed his bottom lip snug between his teeth.

“That night when you confessed to me, I didn’t quite understand what it all meant for me,” Nanami begins quietly. He tightens his hold on his hands. “I’ve never really known what to do when people confess to me. But I was so used to not reciprocating those feelings that rejecting them was as easy as breathing.”

“You’re a little too good at it,” you let out, your heart jolting from the memory of the rejection.

“And for that I apologize,” Nanami quickly spews, “not only for hurting your feelings, but for lying to you.”

“Lying to me?” You felt your forehead going hot. “About what?”

“About my feelings towards you,” Nanami’s tone hinted at a dash of embarrassment, “Admittedly, not even I knew I was lying to you until I finally gave it some thought.”

You could only stare at him, trying to find some sense in his face. But as you stared at him, you noticed a break of conviction in his hazel eyes. His usual professional demeanor was absent, leaving you with a Nanami you’ve never met before. His confidence wavers, and before you was a red-faced, shy man.

“Kento,” you begin, causing him to jump from his first name leaving your tongue. “I’d feel worse if you’re feigning liking me for the sake of making up with me. I told you, it is my fault for liking you.”

“If you’re taking fault for that,” Nanami begins, his eyes diverting away from you, “then it is also your fault for making me like you back.”

Huh? You felt hot, cold, and dizzy. His words were nauseating, and you were confident you were green in the face. Your hands and arms shake with nerves, goosebumps ornate all over your body. Before you could even utter another word, you feel yourself going faint.

“Y/N?” Your name sounded distant. Before you knew it, your eyes flutter shut, pitch black surrounding you.

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#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #nanami kento #nanami fanfic #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami smut

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velvette-creations · 5 months ago

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Bite the bullet and run

The Boys: Billy Butcher x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

WC: 1.9 k

Prompt: Held at Gunpoint for @sweetspicybingo (Hurt/Comfort Bingo Collection)

Warnings: spoilers for season 4, injury/blood, oral (f receiving), fingering, c*m eating, overstimulation, a bit of angst, alcohol consumption, anger, hallucinations

Summary: Billy Butcher is living on borrowed time

Billy is staring down the barrel of a loaded gun, and he knows it. The trigger is cocked, bullet warm in the chamber, just itching to fire into his brain. Karmic retribution; he’s done his fair share of lousy shit under the guise of being a hero, and now it’s catching up to him. Took the V and paid the price. He’s living on borrowed time as the tumor destroys his brain, bringing him closer and closer to death. He knows it, but he can’t admit it. Even as the hallucinations of Rebecca and Kessler make it painfully honest.

He wonders how long he can keep spinning out of control, keep blacking out, and keep pushing reality down; god knows it’s already wreaked havoc on his mental state. It’s not like he can escape it; eventually, the cold, hard reality will come knocking on his front door. His mind flickers briefly to the thought of you and the citrus smell of your perfume, of leaving you behind to handle the mess. You’re a cold-hearted bastard, Bucher; just admit, it will do you good, Kessler sneers. But he’s not; Billy Butcher is flesh and blood, human, and he’s not ready to bite the bullet just yet.

He downs the shot, the whiskey burning his throat and dulling his senses. The liquor won’t change anything but allows him a moment's sweet respite from reality. He can hear Kessler’s sardonic laughter from the stool next to him, the outline of him in Billy’s peripheral vision. He’s not fucking real, the cunt ain’t there, Billy seethes in his head.

That’s where you’re wrong, Billy Boy. I’m a part of you now; better get used to it—the devil on his shoulder.

Billy orders another shot, nearly jumping out of his skin when your hand presses against his shoulder. He’s ready to throw an enraged punch to your face until he realizes it’s you.

“What has you so pissed off that you were ready to knock me through a wall?” you ask dryly as you slip into the stool beside him, Kessler’s form dissipating. You turn toward the bartender and order two shots: one for him and one for you.

“A bit of this, a bit of that, love. This Neuman business has got us all on edge, don’t it?” he grumbled, wrapping his blunt fingers around the shot glass. You want to slap him right across the face. You know it’s more than that.

You hmmm softly before downing your shot, then tap your fingers against the sticky bar counter.

“Sorry, but I’m not buying that bullshit. You’ve been off for weeks. You’re hiding something.” You don’t mean to sound so accusatory, but you’re tired of dancing around the issue. It pisses you off that he’s withholding, and you’re tired of letting him crawl between your legs so he can avoid reality.

“Ain’t none of your business, love,” he snorts, and you slam your hands against the bar.

“Fuck you, Billy! It is my fucking business! If I’m gonna wake up to you dead next to me in bed one morning, I deserve to fucking know,” you growl, making heads turn in your direction.

Tell her, Billy. You don’t have to be alone. I don’t want you to be alone. Sweet, sweet Rebecca, the angel on his other shoulder.

He glares up at you, anger dancing in his dark eyes, but you can see the pain pushing through. You’re ready for the explosion; you welcome it. Anything to prove that he still has a fight inside of him, that he isn’t giving in so willingly. Glass shatters as he slams it against the bar, tiny pieces embedding in his skin and blood oozing from the shallow cuts. You hold your hand out as the bartender storms over.

“We’re going,” you assure him, leaving enough cash to cover the shots and a generous tip to compensate for the disturbance and broken glass. You grab Billy’s upper arm and tug him towards the door.

The bartender was kind enough to lend you a clean rag to wrap around Billy’s injured hand, and you guide him toward your apartment, which is a couple blocks away. The silence is deafening as you both sit hunched over in your small bathroom (the light is better there) as you remove the glass from Billy’s cuts with tweezers. Once you’re assured you’ve gotten them all out, you wash and disinfect his hand before wrapping it in a clean bandage. How many nights have you spent cleaning blood and stitching up wounds, avoiding the hospital if able? How many nights have you spent with his mouth hot on your cunt as his tongue brings you to the edge of sweet oblivion? Intimate in so many ways, yet the art of communication is lost.

“I ain’t trying to lie to you, love. I just don’t wanna say it,” he murmurs, his gaze cast to the floor, counting the white tiles to glisten in the bright light.

Tell her, Billy

You gently grasp his uninjured hand, smoothing your thumb over his knuckles. “Are you sick?”

He nods.

“Are you living on limited time?”

He nods again. He’s told you all you need to know without saying a word.

“Will you let me be there for you?”

There is a hesitation before he nods a third time. He can see Rebecca smiling at him from over her shoulder.

“Thank you. I won’t say anything to the rest of the team,” you assure him. Secrets are for him to share, not you. You won’t betray his trust in that way.

“Thanks, love.”

“Come on, you can crash with me tonight.”

You find a show to watch that isn’t under the Vought umbrella and share Chinese takeout with Billy, squished together on your small couch, the space he’ll be sleeping on tonight. You made it painfully evident with the extra pillow and blankets sitting on the small coffee table in front of the TV. The truth may have been revealed, but you’re not ready to completely mend fences.

“Night, Billy,” you whisper, brushing your lips over his warm cheek, feeling the soft stubble of his beard scrape against your skin.

“Night, love,” he sighs, and you disappear into your bedroom.

Eventually, you’re finally caught in the hazy space of sleep and the waking world when you feel the mattress dip. Billy’s warm body settles against your back, and his bandaged hand rests on your hip.

“I’ll go if you want me to, love, but I’ve missed you,” he whispers in your ear before his lips ghost along the curve of your neck. Need palpitates in your belly. You don’t want him to go. Maybe you’re more forgiving than you thought.

“Don’t…don’t go, Billy,” you beg, your words holding a heavier meaning as tears sting your eyes.

“I’m right here, love, I’m right here,” he assuages, pulling you closer with his other hand before it slips under your tank top to cup one of your breasts. His thumb circles around your nipple until it hardens. His cock presses against the swell of your ass. Your citrus perfume tickles his nose.

You rut against him, grabbing his hand and moving it down your belly. He plunges into your shorts, his warm palm finding your damp cunt immediately. His rough fingers stroke your folds, gathering up your arousal.

“Billy,” you whine. His bare chest radiates warmth, and you yearn to curl into it.

“I’m right here, love,” he breathes as two fingers slip inside you. You clench around him, rocking your hips as needy mewls spill from your lips. It never takes much for him to make you come completely undone. You try to push away the thought that he’s living on borrowed time, which could be one of the last moments you share with him. Might as well make the most of it.

Your eyes roll back as his fingers pump steadily in and out of your pussy, making your toes curl before you spill into orgasm. Animalistic lust surges through you as Billy removes his fingers and tugs your shorts down your legs. You roll over, tugging off your tank and his boxers before lowering your mouth to suck on the tip of his cock. Once he’s coated in your salvia, you mount him, sinking deep onto his cock.

“Bloody hell,” he groans, his good hand gripping your hip tightly before slipping up your belly to take a handful of your tits.

You bounce on his cock, working your muscles and riding him like it might be his last night. You try to push away the thought that it very well might be. You reach down to cup his face as sweat pools down your back.

“Billy, fuck, Billy,” you moan, tracing your thumb around his plush lips.

“Love the way you scream my name, darlin’,” he grins, all cocksure. There he is. There’s your Billy.

“Don’t I know it,” you purred, squeezing around his cock as his hips thrust beneath you. A chill sets in the outside air, but inside is all heat. His flesh is sweaty and salty, and you can’t get enough of it.

Billy finds his fire and his strength, remaining buried inside you as he changes positions, placing you on your back underneath him so he can pound you. Your legs tighten around his waist as he leans down to capture you in a fiery kiss, one where you can taste his passion and the salt of his skin. Your nails skim down his back as flesh smacks together. Wet sounds fill the air, intermingling with his grunts and your pants. You tremble beneath him as you reach your peak, and he spills inside you, making you milk him for all he’s worth. He stays pressed against you as your fingers drag lazily through his damp, dark hair.

Billy gazes into your eyes, thinking it was well spent if this was his last night on earth. Better to go out with a bang and in between the thighs of a woman he loves. Not that he’s ever uttered those words out loud. Almost feels as if he’s betraying Rebecca, but fucking hell, how long can he hold onto ghosts? He gently slips out of you, leaving kisses along your neck, over the swells of your breasts and your belly, before he reaches your soaked, swollen cunt. He can’t help but swipe his tongue over the mess of himself mixed with you.

“Billy,’ you gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair as you squirm against his mouth.

“Indulge a dying man, would you, love? Don’t deny me my favorite last meal,” he murmurs against your damp thighs.

“Oh, you’re an asshole,” you laughed, giving his hair a sharp tag.

“Don’t I know it?” His tongue swirls against your core, dipping inside you.

You’re oversensitive from earlier, and it doesn’t take long for you to cum against his mouth, feeling absolutely spent by the time he’s finished. You’re coated in sweat, and a shower sounds so good, but you can’t be fucked to move. You barely muster up the strength to drape yourself over Billy’s naked chest, holding tightly to him. His bandaged hand rests lightly against your lower back. You snuggle your face against the crook of his neck, committing his scent and flesh to your memory.

Billy Butcher is staring down the barrel of a gun, but for now, he only cares about the feeling of you in his arms. He’ll bite the fucking bullet another fucking day.

#fic: the boys #sweetspicyhc #billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #billy bucher x you #the boys fanfic #billy butcher fanfic #billy butcher imagine #the boys imagine

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fairyysoup · 2 months ago

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the devil i know

chapter four: can't turn water into wine, never asked you to

(repost)

fic tag | fic playlist | fic masterlist

pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: Eddie tries giving you space, but then your fucking ex shows up.

cw: animal death, trauma, depictions of physical and emotional abuse, attempted physical assault, bullying/harassment, violence, deal with a demon, inspired by american and european folklore, sacrilegious themes, dead dove: do not eat

please check masterlist and individual parts for content warnings before reading. this fic contains dark themes. this entire work is explicit. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

You don’t see Eddie for days. And you don’t know how, you don’t know when, but he got you the promotion.

Colin mysteriously quit. Out of nowhere, he left a message with his resignation for the owner to deal with. You remember that Eddie said he visited Colin, and all the tip money he gave back to you sits in your bedside table like an omen. But you don’t know how he could have influenced you getting Colin’s promotion.

All the while, the mark on your wrist makes itself known each time you think about it. Eddie. You find yourself running your thumb over the raised scar, tracing the letters as the image of a fiery volcano sweeps through your mind.

There’s a certain comfort to having it. Sometimes it throbs with your pulse, almost as if to let you know that he’s there, his infernal heart beating in time with yours. He’s still around, watching over you in some way, even if he isn’t lingering in your doorway or popping into your dreams.

When you’re getting into your car for your shift, and a warm breeze rattles the leaves in the trees with the slightest scent of smoke on it. When you’re clocking in, and your name tag says manager, and the mirror over the sink in the back flashes a pair of glowing eyes back at you in your reflection. You can still sense him with a quivering in your gut that urges you to run for him, like it always does when he’s around, doing the devil’s work, wreaking havoc on your already compromised moral compass.

It’s him. He’s there. He’s looking after you, but he’s holding back. He’s waiting for you to ask for him.

You start to miss him. It hits you most when you’re at home alone, sleeping on your couch rather than your bed because you want to be there if he appears in your doorway again. Anxiety and desire flip flop in your body. It ignites something in you, makes you shiver even when your body goes hot with want.

And of course, you’re attracted to him. Stupidly. Predictably, you guess– you’ve always liked power. You think you developed some idiotic crush on him the night you made that deal. His eyes like two glowing beacons, seeking you out in the darkness. You never felt scared of looking back into them, because he went out of his way to make you feel like you held as much power as he did.

Of course, everything you’ve been through since the deal, and the prospect that you’re going to fuck him– because it’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when– makes your desire for him even worse. You feel like a new bride two days from her wedding night. The virginal maiden on her way to bed the horned god.

Well, you’re not a virgin, but you sure fucking feel like one when you think about the prospect. And he’s not a god, but he sure feels like one to you. You’re full of raw power that he’s given you, pulsing in your veins. And now you have to lay here with it, with his presence even when you can’t see him, and it feels good.

To be completely honest, you start to look for him– peering around corners in your house, glancing at doorways and hoping that he’ll show up in one of your dreams. You don’t know how to summon him. Do you have to go out to the crossroads and cast a circle and make a petition again? Do you have to break down in tears? Or is it just as simple as saying his name?

For some reason, you don’t attempt it. You don’t want to be disappointed if you do it wrong.

Then, during one of your shifts at the diner, the mark burns hot under your skin. Just for a second. Just enough to make you jump and drop a cup you were wiping dry, shattering the mug across the kitchen floor.

“Whoops,” you laugh, trying to play it off as just a silly little butterfingered moment. It’s a slow day, and nobody is moving particularly fast or looks like they care, but you glare down at the tile floor as you sweep up the mess. The mark hasn’t burned that hot before, not since it was given to you. Granted, you’ve only had the mark for a week, but this is the first time it’s really made you flinch.

A bell jingles over the front door. You wipe your hands on your apron and duck out of the kitchen doors to greet whoever it is– but, of course, you stop.

“Andy,” you say, your voice flat. The mark throbs obnoxiously against your wrist, bringing your awareness to it rather than the man in front of you.

A cold chuckle greets you, along with the foul stench of the fucking cologne he always douses himself in. You take one whiff, and then start breathing through your mouth before you gag; one part of you hoping he doesn’t notice and take offense, the other wishing that he would. He steps up to the bar counter, his blue eyes going beady and sharp. His brown hair, which had always had a certain unattractive chalkiness to it, is tinted almost blue in the light coming through the windows.

Andy wasn’t terrible in the beginning. Actually, he’d been really likable. Sweet, even, and charming. He had been kind, and he was smart and funny, and he laughed at your stupid jokes and he went out of his way to make you feel special. You would stay up late into the night talking for hours, seemingly never running out of things to say to each other. He told you to your face that he didn’t like bigots, and he stuck up for you when other people in town called you a ‘freak,’ or a ‘Satan worshipper,’ or what have you. You felt safe with him. Until you didn’t.

Andy’s really good at intimidating you. It started a little too late in your relationship for you to notice the warning signs; the passive aggression, refusing to talk to or even look at you if he was mad about anything, whether it involved you or not. The denial, blaming you if you brought up how unfair he was being. Controlling your interests by getting angry and taking it as a personal affront if they didn’t line up with his own. You were just so happy that someone was willing to get close to you in this town, was willing to love you, that you overlooked all the red flags.

By the time you noticed your own behavior towards him– instinctively avoiding eye contact, being afraid to set boundaries for fear of retaliation, waiting for him to say his opinion before you shared your own so that you didn’t inadvertently disagree with him– you were convinced you were making it up. Or that it was your anxiety talking. He didn’t mean you any harm. How could he? He said he loved you.

Until he kicked you out of the apartment. Until he hit your dog with his car. It still rips your heart out when you think about it too hard– your stomach flips and you feel like vomiting. The wound is still too fresh, even six months later. Things like that don’t heal quickly, they fester and they burn and they ache until they poison you, or worse.

He left you to bury Lacey, your five year old Dachshund, in the woods on your own, sobbing and swearing you’d never forget her. And you haven’t.

You tried. You went into the woods, under a waning moon. You bought a pig’s heart from the butcher shop, you drove three rusty nails through it. You bound it in black twine. You buried it with a picture of Andy and when you covered it with dirt, you spit on his “grave.”

It didn’t work.

It only seemed to backfire, actually. Now, he refuses to leave you alone when you just want him gone. He comes around the diner to sit and nurse a cup of coffee for three hours, while berating you for not paying enough attention to him. You can’t imagine the thought process going through his head, if there is one at all. Maybe he thinks he’ll win you back this way, or maybe he finds it entertaining to watch you squirm.

Ultimately, all it does is remind you of what he did to you. What he took from you. You have wrath welling up inside you, the likes of which could level cities. If only you could set it loose.

“Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” he asks you bluntly as he takes his usual seat at the bar, right by the door. He flashes you a smile that may be an attempt at charm, but it only strikes you as menacing.

“Because,” you say through your teeth, “I’ve been busy. I got promoted.” You don’t mention that you changed your number because you were sick of his long winded, drunken phone calls filling your inbox with filth.

“Good for you,” Andy says, eyeing the word manager on your name tag. Staring you down is his favorite intimidation tactic. It makes your heart lurch up into your throat. “You’re really moving up in the world, aren’t you?”

You don’t say anything. You don’t have to fucking justify yourself to him anymore. At least, that’s what you try to tell yourself when you feel yourself about to, averting your eyes. Your mind screams, ‘Look at him! Look at him!’ as though it would make any kind of a difference. It’s all rendered completely redundant with one look at his face. It won’t change how much he scares you.

Andy readjusts the cuffs of his brown leather jacket. With his tight blue jeans and motorcycle jacket, and his pin straight All-American haircut, he resembles something out of Happy Days. It’s almost as if he’s suddenly concerned with his looks. He never has been before– he’s minorly handsome and always rather plain looking, unassuming, unfussy. You counted it as a blessing, once, but now it just doesn’t lend anything good to his appearance. Andy’s just plain, and his ugliness shows on his face now, especially in his eyes. There’s nothing warm or pretty about him.

Not like Eddie .

“You know my order.”

So, you’ve been dismissed. You turn away and disappear into the kitchen, and let out a long breath. Eastwick is a tiny town, boasting only a couple thousand people at the most. Your diner is on the main drag, and people around here don’t like to linger when you’re on shift. Of course, Andy would be the only customer you get at this time on a Monday, but that’s because he supposedly knows you better than most.

If only he knew.

Your wrist throbs. Your head is whirling a mile a minute, There’s a migraine coming on, you can feel it at the base of your skull.

While your shaking hand holds his cup of coffee, your vision blurs, and you accept that you must be having a panic attack. The lights are too bright, the smells are too strong, everything is too loud and you can feel yourself vibrating from your fight or flight response, all your adrenaline pumping into your limbs. Your fingers clutch at the burning cup of coffee in your hands and zero in on that sensation rather than anything else.

Oddly, you find some comfort in it. It reminds you of Eddie. His touch. The fire in his eyes.

You’re so strong. Just look at what you can do.

You jump at the sound of Eddie’s voice in your ears, almost as if he’s standing right behind you, whispering to you. Your eyes refocus on the ceramic cup in your hands. The liquid inside it is boiling. It bubbles over onto your fingers, but somehow, you don’t feel it.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, setting the cup down onto the coffee station. The bubbles recede. The coffee steams, but settles into the cup.

Fingers twitching, you glance around to make sure nobody else in the kitchen noticed what just happened. Satisfied that no one is looking, you reach forward and wrap your hand around the cup again.

The bubbles start again as the coffee rapidly begins to boil.

“Shit, shit, shit–” You hold your hands out, examining your palms. There’s nothing that seems wrong, no hellfire emitting from your fingers. Nothing to suggest that you’re making things inexplicably boil with your touch, just a semi-warm feeling beneath your skin.

You stand in place, trying to decide the best thing to do. If you touch the door, is it going to go up in flames? Or are you only able to make things boil? Are you going to burn the entire place down? You’ll be collecting your final paycheck written in ash, because all the pencils have been scorched to a crisp. And everyone in town will continue to talk about the witch who burned down the Eastwick diner, just like everything else they’ve accused you of for years.

“Can it, um–” You frown, trying to figure out how exactly to make your hands stop being weapons of mass destruction. “Can we just not do that, right now?”

Fine.

You tentatively reach out and touch the cup. Nothing happens.

You sigh in relief and feel like a massive weight has been lifted from your shoulders. You aren’t nearly as nervous as you were before. Apparently, having your hands magically turn into bunsen burners will kill a panic attack in five seconds flat.

You collect the cup of now burnt coffee and the dish of creamer and sugar packets. Best to just move on, behave like normal, right? Your hands definitely didn’t just boil something on their own. You’re definitely a normal person with normal connections to the great beyond. You definitely don’t have a demon telepathically communicating with you, somehow.

You slide the dish and coffee in front of Andy, still refusing to look at him. “Careful, it’s very hot.”

“Yeah, it’s coffee.” There’s a sour note to his voice to let you know that he’s annoyed. He’s always annoyed with you.

You turn to leave, but a hand grabs your arm roughly. You breathe in the sour stench of his vinegary cologne, and you really do gag this time. It reminds you of toxic waste and rot. “Andy, what–?”

“What the fuck is this?” Andy yanks your arm across the counter, staring down at your wrist. Fuck. “You seeing someone? You got a new boyfriend?”

Yes. “No, I–” It’s complicated.

“Who the fuck is Eddie?” Andy spits, squeezing your arm a little harder. You whimper, your heart hammering in your chest. His voice is cold, growling at you with anger and disgust. “You let him carve his fuckin’ name into your skin?”

“It’s–” None of your fucking business. “That’s not what it is.”

“Yeah?” Andy snarls, his rough hand pulling you closer. “You just let any random guy carve his name into you like that? You fuckin’ freak?”

Does that look like it was carved, dipshit?

You try to yank your wrist out of Andy’s hold, but it’s too strong. You try to keep your voice down so that you don’t attract any undue attention from the back. “Andy, stop–”

“What if I do that, huh?” Andy’s other hand comes up over the counter, and he flicks open a pocket knife. The blade is tarnished and old, but no less sharp. You remember watching him throw it at a dart board more than once. His smile mocks you. “Think it won’t mean shit if I do that?”

Burn him.

Your heart pounds so hard you can hear it in your ears, your hands shaking. Andy presses his knife into your wrist, over Eddie’s mark, until blood wells on the surface of your skin.

BURN HIM.

You wrap your hand around Andy’s forearm, trying to pry him away from your own wrist. There’s a sizzling noise, a smell of burnt hair and skin– and then, Andy screams.

He flies back off of the bar stool, clutching his wounded arm, while you try to scramble away from him. Leaning back against a wine cabinet, you pull your aching wrist protectively toward your chest.

Good girl.

Andy’s arm has your handprint burned into it. He whirls on you with wild eyes. “What did you do to me, you– you witch?”

Two of your coworkers burst through the door to the kitchen. So much for not attracting attention. Raoul, one of the line cooks, looks at you for direction of some kind.

“Raoul, please show Andy out of the diner,” you say with as much confidence and authority as you can muster, even though your voice still trembles. “He isn’t allowed back.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Raoul starts ushering him out, a large hand clapped onto Andy’s shoulder as he gruffly announces, “If I see you back here, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

“This isn’t over! I should have known they were right about you. They were all right about you,” Andy spits. “Stupid fucking bitch.”

Seething, you look down at your wrist. There’s a horizontal line cut across Eddie’s name. It makes you angry. Positively fucking livid. The most possessive part of your soul rears up, making your heart ache to see his mark defaced in any way.

He’s yours as much as you’re his. The contract said so.

You raise your eyes, and you look at Andy through the front window of the diner. Directly at him. He’s glaring back at you, and this time, you don’t avert your eyes. You don’t look away. Not when the glass on the windows starts to shake, almost imperceptibly. Not even when Andy flips you off, and throws open his car door.

And the car explodes. Flames erupt from the undercarriage, throwing the entire thing into the air for a second. Shrapnel flies, glass bursts from the windows of the car. You don’t see where Andy goes. There’s nothing but a great plume of fire in the air, a loud KABOOM that rocks the ground.

A few of your coworkers scream. Raoul instinctively guides you to duck under the counter, but the car is too far away from the building for that to make any kind of a difference.

You lift your head to look over the counter, at the blazing remains of Andy’s car exhaling smoke into the air. Your thumb runs protectively across Eddie’s name on your wrist.

When you look down at it, the cut that Andy made across it is gone.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #tdik!fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #demon!eddie #demon!eddie munson #roses*

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sserpente · 2 months ago

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A Haunted Read (Kinktober #1)

You are certain the library you work in his haunted. However, you are not certain ghosts can cast green magic and tease you like that...

A/N: Request by @blackwidownat2814. This request is so old, I’ll go stand in a corner and be ashamed of myself. *clears throat* On another note… Happy Kinktober! It’s my favourite time of the year and I’ve got a bunch of spooky and/or kinky Imagines ready to go this year! Starting off strong with Loki, have fun reading! ;)

Words: 2019 Warnings: ghost!Loki (sort of), smut

You were certain the library was haunted. You were not imagining things. You could hear it. Every single night. A mischievous chuckle, a dark giggle, right after whatever spirit had made itself comfortable in your workplace wreaked some havoc when you were trying to get through your shift.

The concept of a library that was open twenty-four hours a day wasn’t so unusual but it could have done with some more marketing. You were alone most of the time, sorting through books, listening to music, and handling returns left over by the day shift.

Working at night was refreshing. Regardless of the ghost haunting you, you already had the story of a lifetime to tell to your future children (or well, pets). Your boss didn’t want to believe you when you claimed that Thor, the Thor, and his brother Loki had visited the library two weeks ago, searching for a rare tome for a super-secret Asgardian mission.

A selfie with Thor (and Loki rolling his eyes in the background) was now your new profile picture on all of the social media platforms you were on.

Thor was just as righteous and warm as the media portrayed him. Loki was…something else. Cautious, quiet, snarky and to be frank, condescending. Not to mention he’d been the one to show up first, catching you reading a very steamy romance novel. Damn those gods and their quiet footsteps.

You bit your lower lip and rolled a trolley filled with books to your desk. At the end of the day, strangely enough, Loki had fascinated you even more than Thor had. After everything that happened in New York all those years ago, vigilance around his person was a given. But there was more to him than that, you were certain of that. After all, Thor kept him around for a reason, right?

In all honesty, he reminded you a little of those brooding and morally grey men in the books you liked to read. Cold on the outside but a good heart hidden beneath…right? His blue gaze had lingered on you just a little too long. It was captivating, mesmerising, stunning, breath-taking…it was hard to believe it was Thor who captured all the women’s hearts. Loki was not only handsome but also mysterious. He was your perfect book boyfriend and you had not just once caught yourself imagining him as the male protagonist in your latest erotic adventure.

A chuckle. You rolled your eyes. “Who is there? Show yourself!”

Silence. Of course. You hadn’t expected anything else. Except—

You flinched when the neatly stacked books on your desk scattered to the carpeted floor. You groaned. “Seriously? I just sorted through these!”

Perhaps you should have been worried about a poltergeist keeping you company at this time of day, alone and surrounded only by rows and rows of books, especially this close to Halloween. But then again, you had nothing to fear from the dead. The living were much scarier than anything a poltergeist could come up with.

Another chuckle.

“Really funny… You know if you’ve got something to say, say it. Maybe I can help you move on to the afterlife or something like that…” You bent over to pick up the books when you spotted a green hue flickering across the edges of some of the books, almost as if whatever had moved them still lingered on the covers.

Great. Ghost goo. Time to call the Ghostbusters.

Hopefully, the rest of your shift was going to be peaceful. You sighed, stacking the books yet again. They had to be re-labelled and some of them needed a new protective cover. If you got this done now…and the library remained this empty…you’d have enough time to finish that sexy Halloween novel you’d been reading.

After all, that was the best part of your job. It was heaven to get paid for reading. So you got to work, listening to some music to drown out the repeated chuckles. At least nothing else went flying for now. Although you couldn’t quite shake the constant shivers running up and down your spine. It was as if your body sensed another presence.

You didn’t hate it—but you didn’t like it, either.

Three long hours later, as you rolled your neck to ease some of the tension, you were done. The trolley was empty, the returns list was updated, all the books were re-labelled…and you finally had time for the steamy romance novel waiting for you on the desk.

After making some tea in the staff room, you made yourself comfortable in the surprisingly cosy desk chair and got lost in your story.

Your protagonist was about to be seduced by a handsome demon looking to devour her soul—of course, they’d eventually fall in love in the process. She was dreaming, half-awake, and then…experiencing sleep paralysis. The girl had gone to bed naked, making it even easier for the demon to tease her into oblivion.

Damn, this was hot. You could feel yourself growing wet, arousal rippling through you.

You flinched when something tugged at your hair. You flipped around. There was no one there.

The demon in the book pulled back the covers, revealing the girl’s glistening pussy to its greedy gaze.

Something tugged at your clothes. “What the…” Flailing, your eyes scanned your surroundings. Nothing. This was the first time this ghost was touching you. This…shit. “Stop it! Let go of me!”

Perhaps if you ignored it…you bit your lower lip, lowered your gaze, and kept on reading in an attempt to block the spirit out. No one liked to be ignored, right? Maybe it just wanted attention like a toddler. Or a pet.

The demon stuck out his long tongue and licked over the girl’s cunt, lapping at her juices.

It was just then you noticed that green hue of energy again, disappearing…underneath your skirt. Your eyes widened.

“W-Wait, no, what…what is…” Trying to press your legs together did nothing. The energy remained, forcing itself…you gasped.

“What are you doing? What’s happening, what are you…oh.” It did not wait for you to finish. The energy pressed up directly against your clit. A moan escaped your lips. No…no, this wasn’t supposed to feel good, what was it doing?

I-ignore it…just ignore it…just…ignore it…

The girl in the book whimpered, her legs falling open wider against her will. And then…so did yours. Fuck… You should be scared. Terrified. Instead…instead all you could sense was excitement.

You stopped reading, desperate to catch a glimpse of that green hue again…only for it to disappear. Damn it. Disappointment should be the last thing you’re feeling. And then, as soon as you brought your gaze back to the pages of your book, the pressure returned.

Oh. Oh my. Did…did the spirit want you to keep reading? And only then would it…

No. Oh no. You should not be playing this game. This was bad. Wrong. Maybe it wasn’t even a spirit after all. What if it was an incubus? What if it’d feast on your pleasure and steal your energy, your soul even in the worst-case scenario?

You bit your lower lip when the pressure intensified, sneaking its way past your drenched lips and…inside you as if to distract you from your worrying thoughts. Fuck…you’d never felt so…so full. How was this even possible?

Finally, the girl in the book opened her eyes only to find the handsome demon hovering directly above her the very moment he thrust up into her, claiming every single inch of her. And with every line you read…the invisible force working your own arousal kept stroking and teasing your pussy as if it’d done so a million times before. You couldn’t help it. You pictured Loki to be the demon seducing this girl.

Fuck it. Whatever this experience was, now was not the time for fear. You could be scared later and be horny now.

Growing hotter with every minute, it got harder and harder to focus on the text. You climbed the ladder fast, the mysterious energy pleasuring you better than any of your toys could. If it kept going, you would…you would…oh…

“I’m coming!” you yelled out, grateful that you were alone—save for the naughty ghost having its fun with you. You clenched around the energy force as you hit your climax, bliss unlike any other rippling through you. You dropped your book, your nails digging into the armrests, your head thrown back.

Your little poltergeist took its time. It did not let up until you’d come down from your high, your senses and dreadful realisation at what you had just let a ghostly appearance do to you washing away the last waves of pleasure.

And yet…you had never come this hard. If anything…this had been the most mind-bending orgasm of your life. You wanted to experience that again. You wanted to experience it again.

But, as the force slowly retreated and the green hue evaporated into nothingness, you figured it would be stupid to beg it to come back and give you more.

One thing was for certain, however. You could not, under any circumstances, let anyone ever know what had just happened to you.

The next evening remained uneventful. At first. No ghosts, no flying objects, no invisible hands forcing you to come for them. You were about to continue reading that faithful book from last night when all of a sudden, the main doors of the library opened and two now all too familiar figures walked inside.

Thor and Loki.

“Hey, you two! Any progress on your ancient Asgardian tome?”

You were quite flattered when Thor remembered your name and they both greeted you. Thor with a friendly “Hello”, and Loki with a curt nod. “No luck so far. But we have a new lead. Would you mind if we took another little browse?”

“Not at all, take your time. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Thor smiled and nodded before he walked off, straight toward the history and mythology section. Loki, on the other hand…lingered a little longer in place than he probably should have. God, even how he was standing there, lurking, observing you with those scrutinising blue eyes…he was grace personified.

“C-Can…can I help you?” you asked.

Loki smirked. “I was hoping you might be able to help me find some…lighter literature. To pass the time so to speak.”

“Uh…sure. W-what…” Oh, get it together! “What kind of literature were you thinking about?”

“I have an affinity for romance. Perhaps something along the lines of…what you read last night.”

Your face fell when he flicked his wrist and steamy erotica resting on your desk chair practically flew into his hands—enveloped in green mist.

Oh. My. God.

You didn’t get to respond. Not that you knew what to say anyway. Thor came rushing back to the front desk with an odd-looking compass in one hand and another really old book on settlements in Norway in the other.

“Loki! Loki, I think I found what we’re looking for. That thing Strange gave us is spinning like crazy, look!”

Loki didn’t look. His eyes were locked with yours still, his smirk never letting up. Fuck. Me.

“Are you quite alright, dear? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he mused.

You gnashed your teeth, resisting the urge to growl.

Thor gave you a puzzled look. Shit.

“N-no. I’m okay. I’m fine.”

“Right…” Thor began, “…we’d like to borrow this one.”

“S-sure…” Snapping yourself out of it, you took the book from Thor’s hands and scanned it before handing it back to him.

“Thank you! That will be all. Come on, Loki, stop terrifying the poor girl.” Thor gave you one last friendly smile before he made his way towards the exit.

“It was lovely to see you again, pet. I can’t wait to see what book you are going to read next,” Loki said before he turned on his heel and followed his brother, leaving you behind dumbfounded.

So he had intentions to return. Fuck…you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want him to.

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srslyblvck · 2 months ago

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the devil you know, avengers

pairing: avengers x fem!reader, bucky x fem!reader

synopsis: the avengers seem really desperate as they come to you—the person who went under their skin like no one else to help them win against hydra. while they are walking on eggshells around you, you are having fun causing chaos.

warnings: mentions of y/n (maybe), blood, violence, gore

word count: 3.1k

chapter: 1/?

series masterlist

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE LAST TIME YOU fought the Avengers, you didn’t just leave a mark—you left scars. They were supposed to be Earth’s mightiest heroes, but they couldn’t even handle you alone. Your power wasn’t just raw strength or fancy tech. No, you were chaos, untamed and unpredictable. You had fun, didn’t you? Watching them scramble, trying to keep up as you dismantled their team, piece by piece.

The streets of New York were your playground. Thor swung his hammer, lightning crackling in the air, but you were faster. You sidestepped, sending him crashing into a nearby building. Tony tried to come at you from the skies, a barrage of missiles raining down. With a flick of your wrist, you sent them spiraling back into his suit, and watched with a smirk as he plummeted to the ground.

Then there was Natasha, sharp, lethal, and far too clever for her own good. She tried to get close, slipping through the chaos to land a blow. You almost admired her for that. Almost. But you caught her wrist before her knife could make contact, twisting it just enough to disarm her without snapping it—because where’s the fun in ending the game too soon?

And Steve, Captain America himself. Righteous, noble, irritatingly persistent. He charged at you, shield raised, eyes burning with determination. But his resolve only made you more excited. You met him head-on, your strength colliding with his as you deflected the shield with a grin. You knew it wouldn’t last forever. You knew they’d eventually overwhelm you with numbers or some sneaky trick. But that didn’t matter. For a while, you were winning. And that’s all that mattered.

It had taken all of them, working together, to finally bring you down. And when they did, they didn't leave you in some cushy maximum-security prison. No, they put you in The Raft—the highest of high-security prisons for supervillains. They wanted to make sure you couldn’t wriggle out and wreak havoc again.

Funny thing is, you didn't mind.

You lounge in your cell at the Raft, feet kicked up, arms folded behind your head. The guards pass by occasionally, but they don’t bother with you much anymore. No point. You’re the least troublesome prisoner they’ve got here. Not exactly the model inmate, but you’ve made it clear you weren’t going anywhere. You didn’t mind the Raft—no noisy world, no chaotic battles, just peace. Besides, you always enjoyed the looks people gave you. The way they seemed unsure if you were calm or just waiting to snap.

“Psychotic,” they called you. Maybe they weren’t wrong. But if that’s what it takes to keep things interesting, then so be it.

The Avengers. Now that’s where the fun had been. Fighting them, teasing them, pushing them to their limits. Especially Stark. He hated that he could never figure you out. You’d gotten under their skin in a way no one else had. And even though you were eventually caught, dragged off to this fortress in the middle of the ocean, it didn’t feel like defeat. No, it felt more like… a vacation.

The tension in the Avengers HQ could be cut with a knife. Seated around the long, sleek table, everyone had their eyes fixed on the glowing hologram floating in the center, displaying a map riddled with flashing Hydra insignias.

“Hydra’s moving faster than we thought,” Tony Stark said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “They’ve got new tech, new firepower, and something else—something we don’t understand yet.”

Steve Rogers leaned forward, his jaw set in that familiar determined way. “We’ve taken down Hydra before. We can do it again.”

“We didn’t take them down,” Natasha Romanoff chimed in. “We knocked them back. This is different, Steve. Their intel’s better. Their strategy is… smarter.”

Steve crossed his arms, frowning deeply. “We are the Avengers. We have faced threats from beyond this world. Surely this Hydra can be beaten.”

Bruce Banner, quiet until now, shook his head. “No, Steve. This isn’t like our usual enemies. Hydra’s moving like they know every step we’re going to take before we make it. And whatever they're building—it’s got enough gamma signatures to make me nervous.”

That last statement made everyone pause. Even Clint Barton, who’d been silently fidgeting with an arrow, stilled his hands.

“Great,” Clint muttered. “So not only are they out-thinking us, they’ve got Banner-level problems in their back pocket. Awesome.”

Sam Wilson leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at the hologram. “There’s got to be a way to track them. Cut them off before they finish building… whatever that is.”

“I’ve tried,” Rhodey said, his voice exasperated. “Hydra’s cloaking this thing like it’s Fort Knox, and every time I send in recon, we come up empty-handed.”

The room fell into a heavy silence. Everyone was thinking the same thing, even if no one wanted to say it. The Avengers were backed into a corner, and they hated being in this position. Hydra had outmaneuvered them before—but never like this.

Tony leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. "There’s one option we haven’t considered."

Steve’s eyes snapped to Tony, immediately suspicious. “What’s that?”

Tony glanced around the room, hesitation clear on his face for the first time in a while. “We bring in someone who knows how to deal with these kinds of dirty tactics. Someone who’s unpredictable… dangerous.”

“Oh, no,” Natasha said, crossing her arms. “We’re not doing this.”

“What?” Clint asked, glancing between them. “What are we not doing?”

“You know exactly who he’s talking about,” Natasha replied, her voice cold.

Bucky Barnes, sitting quietly in the corner, shifted in his seat. “You mean her.”

“Yup.” Tony gave a tight smile. “her.”

“You can’t be serious, Stark,” Steve said, his tone edging into anger. “That… that psycho is locked up for a reason.”

“Yeah, well, unless you’ve got any other brilliant ideas for how to get through Hydra’s defences, I’m all ears,” Tony shot back, standing up now. “I get it, Cap. She's not exactly on our Christmas card list, but facts are facts. When we fought her, she nearly wiped the floor with us. She's good—too good.”

“That’s because she's insane,” Bucky said, his voice low, dangerous. “You think she's going to help us out of the goodness of her heart?”

“No, but she’ll help because she likes causing chaos, and right now, chaos is what we need,” Tony replied.

Bruce, still seated, raised a hand. “You’re suggesting we trust someone who has a history of, uh, not playing by the rules?”

“I’m suggesting we use someone who’s good at breaking things. We can handle the clean-up afterward,” Tony said. His tone was sharp, but there was logic behind it.

Steve stood up, crossing his arms, clearly trying to contain his frustration. “No way. We’re not that desperate.”

“We might be,” Sam said, leaning back in his chair, though his expression was skeptical. “I don’t like it either, but Tony has a point. Hydra’s not playing fair. Maybe we need someone who knows how to play dirtier.”

“I’m not working with her,” Steve said firmly. “We don’t need someone like that. We’ve beaten Hydra before.”

“Yeah, but not like this,” Clint muttered under his breath. “Not when they’ve got the upper hand.”

Rhodey, who’d been listening quietly, finally spoke up. “I hate to say it, but we’re out of options. We need something to break this deadlock. Even if it’s a wildcard.”

Steve clenched his jaw. “This is a mistake.”

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Probably. But we don’t have time to sit around and weigh the pros and cons. Every minute we waste, Hydra’s getting closer to finishing whatever nightmare they’re cooking up. We need to act.”

There was a long pause as the team exchanged glances, weighing their options. No one wanted to admit it, but they were out of ideas. And you were the only person who could help.

Steve finally exhaled, nodding once. “Fine. But if this goes sideways, it’s on you, Stark.”

Tony gave a small, triumphant smirk. “Trust me, Cap, I’ve got it handled.”

When they arrived at the Raft, the air was thick with tension. The Avengers weren’t exactly the kind of people who made house calls to criminals, and it showed on their faces as they were led down the long, sterile corridor toward your cell.

You knew they were coming long before they reached you. Hydra must have had them in knots for them to come crawling back to you. The idea was almost enough to make you laugh.

Lying on the small cot in your cell, your arms stretched behind your head, you kept your eyes closed. The hum of the Raft was soothing, a far cry from the chaos of the outside world. It was almost meditative.

Then, the cell door slid open with a sharp buzz, but you didn’t bother moving.

“Stark,” you said lazily, eyes still closed, voice dripping with amusement. “What, come to throw a going-away party?”

The Avengers stood before you, and when you opened your eyes, you didn’t miss the mix of tension and frustration on their faces.

“We need your help,” Tony said bluntly, cutting straight to the chase.

You sat up slowly, a lazy grin spreading across your face. “You must be really desperate to come to me for help.”

Tony opened his mouth to respond, but you raised a finger, cutting him off. “Let me guess. Hydra’s doing something nasty, and you’re stuck. Can’t get your shiny suits dirty, so you come to me, the wildcard.”

Steve glared at you from the back. “This isn’t a joke.”

You grinned wider. “Oh, I know it’s not, Captain. But I have to say… this is going to be fun.”

The Avengers stood there, tense, unsure. And you? You were in control, and it felt fantastic.

You strolled into the Avengers compound, a lazy smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, wrists cuffed in front of you with those annoying power-suppressing restraints. They’d made sure of that, didn’t they?

Of course, they had. The Avengers weren’t stupid. At least, not completely.

Around you, the team walked in a tight formation, like you were some kind of wild animal they needed to keep on a leash. Tony was up ahead, chatting with FRIDAY about god knows what, Steve right beside him, walking with that stiff-shouldered tension that was so him. Behind you, Natasha and Clint followed, their eyes boring holes into the back of your head. You could almost feel Bucky’s glare from across the room, like he was daring you to make a wrong move.

But you weren’t going to make a scene. Not yet.

“Gotta say,” you drawled, glancing around the compound, taking in the high-tech security, the polished floors, the holographic displays flickering along the walls. “I like what you’ve done with the place. Real homey.”

You whistled softly, admiring the upgrades. The last time you’d seen the compound—well, it hadn’t exactly been in one piece. You might’ve had something to do with that, but hey, nobody’s perfect.

“Hope you didn’t put in too much work fixing it up after our last meeting,” you added with a grin, turning toward Tony. “Wouldn’t want all that effort to go to waste.”

Tony didn’t miss a beat, glancing over his shoulder at you with a raised eyebrow. “Funny. I seem to remember you being more concerned with trying to take my head off than interior design critique.”

“Potato, po-tah-to,” you said with a shrug, as if it was all just some fun memory. You could feel the others bristling behind you, no doubt regretting this decision more with every word you spoke.

Steve’s jaw clenched, his voice low and commanding. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Easy there, Cap,” you replied, enjoying how his fists tightened just a bit more. “I’m here to help, remember? Or did you bring me back just for my sparkling personality?”

“Let’s not test that theory,” Natasha cut in, her voice cool but sharp. “You’re on a short leash here.”

You grinned wider, turning to give her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

The group led you further into the compound, and you let yourself take it all in. It was strange being back here, walking freely (well, as freely as the cuffs allowed) through their precious headquarters. Last time you were here, they’d been chasing you down, trying to stop you from doing what you did best—causing chaos. Now, they were practically welcoming you with open arms.

Funny how things changed when they needed you.

As you passed by one of the large windows, you caught a glimpse of the sprawling training grounds outside. Stark’s money had definitely gone into this place—it was a fortress. High-tech, polished, the works. But beneath all that shine, you knew what was really going on. Desperation. They wouldn’t have come to you unless they had no other choice.

“So, what’s the play?” you asked, breaking the silence as you sauntered forward, hands still shackled but your posture loose and casual. “You bring me in, throw me at Hydra, hope I don’t enjoy myself too much?”

“You’re going to do what we tell you,” Steve said firmly. “No more, no less.”

You met his gaze, that stoic, unflinching look he always gave, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Yeah, sure. That’s exactly how this is gonna go.”

Clint, ever the quick shot with a retort, piped up. “If you don’t follow orders, we’ll make sure you regret it.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch Clint’s eye, your grin widening. “You threatening me, Barton? I thought we were all friends now.”

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t respond. Behind you, you could sense Bruce watching quietly, keeping his distance but always on edge, probably ready to Hulk out the second you made a wrong move. Bucky was the same—silent, seething. Everyone in the room knew you were a threat. Everyone knew that the cuffs on your wrists were the only thing keeping you from unleashing a storm.

But what they didn’t know was that you were actually enjoying this little game. They were walking on eggshells around you, pretending they had everything under control, but you could feel the tension crackling in the air. It was palpable. Delicious.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence again as you strolled past the holographic displays, glancing at one that showed a map of Hydra’s activity. “What exactly is it you need me to do?”

“You’re not in a position to ask questions,” Steve answered, his voice firm and unyielding.

You rolled your eyes. “Still playing the Boy Scout, huh? Fine. I’ll bite. But just so you know, I’m not here for the teamwork, Captain.”

Tony let out a small chuckle at that. “We’re not exactly looking for team spirit. We need someone unpredictable. Someone who can get into Hydra without raising alarms.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I’m your guy,” you said with a wink. “Hydra and I go way back. They’ll be thrilled to see me again.”

“And that’s what worries us,” Natasha replied, eyes narrowing as she studied you. “You’ve got a history with them. We’re not letting you go in unsupervised.”

You sighed, feigning disappointment. “Always so serious, Romanoff. Fine, keep your watchdogs on me. Just don’t blame me when I get bored.”

The group finally stopped in front of one of the briefing rooms, Tony gesturing for you to enter first. You raised your cuffed hands slightly, giving them a little shake. “And these?” you asked. “Gonna make it a little hard to do anything useful.”

“They stay on until we’re sure you’re not going to turn this into a free-for-all,” Steve said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You stepped through the door with a shrug. “Whatever you say, Captain.”

As you entered the briefing room, the large screen lit up with detailed schematics of Hydra’s new operation. Bases, weapons, movements—things even you hadn’t seen before. It was impressive. Even more impressive that they were willing to trust you with this kind of information.

Then again, trust was a fragile thing here, wasn’t it?

You took a seat at the table, leaning back in the chair as best you could with your hands still cuffed, watching the Avengers file in around you. Tension filled the room like a thick fog, everyone waiting to see what you’d do next.

“Well,” you said, kicking your feet up onto the table, flashing them a cocky grin. “This should be fun.”

The briefing room hummed with energy, a silent current of tension hanging thick between you and the Avengers. Tony took his place at the head of the table, arms crossed, tapping his fingers against his bicep impatiently. Steve stood just behind him, the shield slung across his back, his posture stiff. The others filtered in, taking up their positions like chess pieces ready for a match.

You leaned back in your chair, cuffed hands resting on the table in front of you, a lazy smirk playing on your lips. “Alright,” you said, stretching your legs out. “Why don’t we cut to the chase? What’s the big Hydra mess you need me for?”

Tony glanced at Steve, who gave him a short nod, the silent agreement of reluctant allies. Tony activated a holographic display on the table, bringing up a 3D map of several cities across the globe. Red dots flickered ominously, marking Hydra's known operations.

“You already know Hydra’s been rebuilding,” Tony began, his tone sharp and focused. “But this isn’t their usual underground terrorist network anymore. They’ve got something bigger, more coordinated. And now, they’ve been making moves we can’t trace. Military-grade weapons, tech we haven’t seen before, and worst of all, something that’s throwing up red flags on our radiation sensors.”

“Gamma signatures,” Bruce chimed in, his face serious. “A lot of them.”

Your eyebrow lifted, intrigued. “Gamma, huh? That sounds like fun. They planning on making their own Hulk? Gotta say, that’s a bold move.”

“It’s worse than that,” Bruce continued, eyes darkening. “They’ve been siphoning gamma energy from somewhere, but we don’t know what it’s for yet. And if they’re storing it, they could be trying to build a weapon.”

“Something big enough to level cities,” Natasha added, her voice cold. “Or worse.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “Always with the doomsday weapons. Hydra really doesn’t know how to take a break, do they?”

Clint gave you a hard look. “This isn’t a joke. If they get this thing operational, it’s game over for a lot of people. Not even you want that kind of chaos.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” you quipped, leaning forward slightly. “But go on. Tell me what makes you think I care enough to get involved.”

Steve stepped forward, leaning on the table as his blue eyes locked onto yours with that intense, all-business stare of his. “Because you know Hydra. You know how they think. And you know their tactics better than anyone we’ve got. If we go in guns blazing, they’ll see us coming from miles away. But you? You can walk right in.”

You tilted your head, considering. “And you think I’ll just play nice, follow your lead, and do exactly what you want?”

Steve’s jaw clenched. “No. I think you’ll do it because you love playing the game. And because if Hydra gets their hands on this weapon, even you won’t be safe. They’ll come after everyone—Avengers, civilians, people like you.”

Tony stepped in, his expression tight but calculated. “We need someone who can play dirty. Someone who can think like Hydra, act like Hydra, and blend in without setting off alarms. That’s you.”

Bucky, sitting quietly to your left, finally spoke. His voice was low, dangerous. “They’ll kill you the second they get the chance. You know that, right?”

You turned to Bucky, flashing him a grin. “Hydra’s always had a soft spot for me, Barnes. I’m sure I’ll manage.”

Tony flicked the hologram again, zooming in on a specific location—a heavily guarded Hydra facility buried deep in Eastern Europe, surrounded by military checkpoints and defense grids. “This is the target,” he said. “We’ve been monitoring this base for weeks. It’s their hub for whatever project they’re working on. It’s locked down tighter than anything we’ve seen before. We tried sending in a team, but they didn’t get far. Too many layers of security.”

“Layers I can bypass,” you concluded, smirking at the challenge. “Alright, I’ll admit, it sounds like fun. But what makes you think I won’t just stroll in, grab what I want, and leave you all hanging?”

Natasha, leaning against the wall, finally stepped forward, her gaze cold and calculating. “Because you know what happens if Hydra finishes whatever they’re building. You’ve got a history of playing both sides, but even you can’t outrun a bomb that size. And let's be real—you hate losing control more than anything. Hydra’s playing a game you’re not a part of right now.”

You tilted your head, the smile slipping just a little. “So what? You’re offering me a chance to take them down from the inside?”

“We’re offering you a chance to prove you’re not as self-destructive as we think you are,” Steve replied, voice steady but firm. “This isn’t just about us. It’s about keeping Hydra from leveling cities and killing millions. You help us stop them, and maybe—just maybe—you walk out of this without a target on your back.”

The room went quiet, the weight of the situation sinking in. You leaned back, letting the silence stretch out as you considered your options. They weren’t wrong—Hydra was dangerous, even to you. And sure, there was a part of you that liked chaos, liked toying with the line between hero and villain. But even you had limits.

“You really think this will work?” you asked, locking eyes with Tony.

Tony’s expression softened slightly, just enough to show a glimmer of trust. “I think it’s our best shot.”

Another beat of silence passed. Then, with a slow grin, you nodded.

“Alright, I’m in,” you said, sitting up straighter in the chair. “But let’s get one thing clear. I’m not here to be your hero. I’m here because I like to win. Hydra made this personal when they tried to cut me out of the fun.”

Steve straightened, arms crossed. “As long as you follow our lead.”

You shot him a wink. “No promises, Captain.”

The team exchanged a few tense glances, but the decision had been made. You were in. And, for now at least, that was all that mattered.

“Good,” Tony said, the hologram flickering away. “We move out tomorrow. FRIDAY will upload the mission details to your room.”

You grinned wider. “A room, huh? How fancy.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Natasha said as she turned toward the door, her voice flat. “This isn’t a vacation.”

You chuckled, rising to your feet. The cuffs clinked lightly as you stretched your arms, casting a glance back at the Avengers. “Oh, trust me, Romanoff. I’m anything but comfortable.”

And with that, you followed them out of the briefing room, feeling the weight of the cuffs on your wrists and the eyes of the Avengers on your back. You were back in the game, and Hydra had no idea what was coming.

dividers by @dollywons

#marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #marvel cinematic universe #the avengers #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #avengers x y/n #avengers x you #tony stark #steve rogers #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #clint barton #bruce banner #sam wilson #bucky x reader

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hansensgirl · 11 months ago

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summary. | Your husband tells you about his rough day at work.

prompts. | Steve Rogers + Mob/Mafia + “I just want to take care of you.” + Stockholm Syndrome, requested by Anonymous.

pairing. | dark!mob boss!Steve Rogers x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, wound dressing, housewife kink, mentions of violence, lying, deceit, mobs/mafias, age gap/difference, mentions of torture (not to the reader), scarring/marking (not self-harm), possessiveness, obsession, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics

He’s beaten and bloody, but you still love him… Right?

You sit on the dining room chair in your dress with an apron on, smiling as hard as you can because Steve asked you to. He hates seeing you upset, and you hate seeing him mad.

“Sweetheart…” Steve starts, watching your face intently. You clean his wounds with much care and love, just as he taught you. He sighs, knowing you’re too caught up in the task at hand. “Don’t be sad… You know it’s part of the job.”

“I just hate seeing you like this,” you tell him, voice shaky with tears. Your husband coming home all injured doesn’t happen often. The notoriously-feared Steve Rogers usually ends the day unscathed unless he’s been ambushed, which is what happened today.

But he still ended the fight victorious. He always does.

“I get that, but you know I do all this for you, right?” Steve asks, and you look up at him. Your eyes are glassy. You nod your head obediently. Steve works so hard just for you—he tells you this daily, especially when he’s exhausted, and just wants you to listen to him. “I– I know…”

You finish wiping the blood off his hands, and you spy a few bruises already starting to form. They litter his knuckles, but his wedding band remains intact.

“Right. And you know I don’t get hurt often,” Steve continues, picking up his glass of whiskey. He downs the rest and hisses from the burn. “You should see the other guy,” he tells you, and you continue nodding.

You’re not sure what to say. You don’t enjoy Steve’s line of work—you never have. You’ve made him aware of this time and time again, but you don’t have a say in what he does. You never do.

“Sam an’ I got him good. I did most of it—left him to rot in that room for Buck to have his fun. Remember those knives I got him as a gift?” Steve asks. You hum, moving forward to tend to the gash on his jaw. He has as many scars as he does tattoos. Your name is inscribed in ink on his chest, but his initials were written with a blade on your ass.

The mention of knives almost has you sighing dreamily. You lost your ‘knife privileges’ a few months ago when you tried to hurt Steve. The idea seems so silly now. Why would you ever do that to the love of your life?

“Wanna know what that asshole did?” your husband whispers, and you meet his gaze. “O– Okay,” you hesitantly agree. You hate all the nitty-gritty details, but you can’t tell him ‘no.’ That’s the number one rule.

“He said he knew you. Just a kid about your age, really. Think his name was Pete,” Steve starts, and you freeze for a split second.

Peter—your old friend who vowed he’d get rid of the mob that wreaked havoc on your city when he was older. Steve’s mob. He hated that his aunt May would always have to give them most of her paycheck and how your parents lost their business when Steve decided to open his own store.

“Said he knew you, but I doubt it. You would never be friends with some spunky asshole,” he laughs, and you’re snapped out of the childhood memories that have always brought you so much comfort and sadness. You’re tempted to defend Peter, but you bite your tongue. You’ve been so good—why would you want to get yourself in trouble?

“He told me to ‘let you go,’ or else he’d ‘make me pay,’” Steve laughs, pouring himself more of his drink. “I told him he was crazy. He kept sayin’ how I was hurting you and that I kidnapped you.” And he’s right—but you can’t say that.

Tears sting your eyes as you bandage your husband up, the one you’ve never wanted a thing to do with. But he’s been so kind to you—he keeps you safe and doesn’t let you worry about anything except for him.

“Yeah, right. I shut him up real quick, but he put up a good fight,” Steve says, sipping on his expensive whiskey. He places his glass on the dining room table and lifts your chin so you watch him in his blue eyes. “You know I just want to take care of you, right, sweetheart? Always have.”

You give him your sweetest smile and nod, blinking away your threatening waterworks. He’s right. Steve Rogers always is.

“Of course, honey.”

#sabs concepts #steve rogers #marvel #the avengers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #captain america #chris evans #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #dark steve rogers #dark!#request #drabble #sab’s dark concepts (2023)

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jujutsukgojo · 9 months ago

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The Fourth Leg

chrollo lucilfer x reader

Summary: No matter how fast you ran, the Spider's leg cannot get far. No matter how long you hid, you were bound to be found, dear number four. WARNING: toxic relationships, mentions of murder and torture, bullying, murder plot, smut, idk what else? yandere? 18+ Smut scene is based on Fear (1996). I saw it and it crept up on me Chapter one

You’ll always be able spot the blond haired boy from a mile away. His blond locks are longer now, and his eyes are colder. They aren’t the same light grey they used to be when he was around. A small smile comes across your face when you look to see what your boy is wearing: his traditional Kurta attire.

When the massacre happened and you had run into Sheila, she informed you of everything there was to know about the Kurta. So, while he was housed by you, you made those clothes for him. And now that he’s a little older, he still wears the clothes you send him.

Kurapika left home to get his hunter’s license. He was determined and able. Just like you shaped him to be. Alas, there is something there that you once again failed to save. Just like before, like always.

That rageful bloodlust that confuses the host for justice and vengeance when it is neither one. It is darkness that lurks into them and finally settles into their souls.

He is falling for the same trick as you and your dearest friends had. They entered a place and left every smidge of hope they had. What was supposed to be for justice, protection, and Sarasa, resulted in a numbness that is too disgusting to handle. It’s too brutal and vile. Bloody without a thought of washing their hands with repentance.

No matter, the tightness of your chest has you think of one thing: is it too late to save Kurapika?

You go back inside and wash the dishes that you dirtied from cooking his favorites. He had let you know he was coming. It is such a rarity to even be able to contact Kurapika. He’s just so busy lately. That, and he acts like he has never worked a phone before in his life. The little shit.

Thunder and lightning strike, shaking the ground beneath you. A slight rumble under your bare feet. You look out the window again and see a ghost from your past. Tall, silver haired, and just as beefy as before: Silva Zodlyck. You haven’t seen him since he killed you.

If he spots you, it will be a brawl. Another side of you that you have buried, not exorcised, all these years are calling out for his blood. To wreak havoc once more and see the fear in his eyes again. The bad thing about that is, is that you are a non combatant. An exorcist, a priestess of sorts. Not at all suited for the front lines. You can defend yourself and fight, but not on the level of him or the others.

Hell, maybe not even Kurapika now, and you wiped that boy’s tears and snot.

What you can do now is remain low. As much as you want to see that little brat and talk to him, to find out how he’s been, to fuss over him and see if he’s eaten yet, right now you can’t even consider that. Not when he is close to finding out. Besides, he can take care of himself for a bit. As it appears, Silva isn’t after him.

Breathe in, breathe out. Focus on me, trust in me.

Your breath hitches. That smooth voice is in your head. One you haven’t heard of in years. With all the power inside, you tried to push it out. To wipe their faces from your memories.

You see the trash can and can only think of Little. Oh, how you tortured that boy. Putting him in trashcans and sitting on the lids and gave him noogies. Little would always retaliate but had to be held back when that one showed up to protect you. God, why are you thinking of this? There is a beast of a man who almost ended you and your dumbass is reminiscing of your bullying days.

Had you not pulled that one trick up your sleeve, you truly would have died by the hands of Zoldyck. It has been years since you’ve fought seriously. You trained Kurapika, but you never went full throttle. Nothing but rust is on your nen and hand-to-hand combat.

Just sit back, don’t hide your presence or anything. That's what he’s looking for. Any kind of blip in the atmosphere. Hell, he may not even remember you!

_____________

You know what you have to do. There is no hope here. No compassion for others at all. The Kurta clan, Sarasa, you, no one. It is now or never.

You jump at the bolder of a man. Crosses paint themselves on your palms as a holy prayer escapes your lips. Your veins line with the brightest blue and the rubble around you lift off the ground from your aura. Directly, your hands clasp onto Silva’s. He looks confused and the most surprising of all, scared.

He lets go of his hatsu. In the back, there is a bloody scream. A roar that a lion can never compare itself to. A bloodlust from the roar that made Silva’s eyes widen. It is too late, the hatsu hit you straight on. Two balls of electricity and power collide with your fragile body.

When you came to, by pure nen, you could vaguely see your dearest. His eyes watery, voice hoarse, blood trinkling on his face. Silva is not in sight, not a single thing left behind. Did he kill him?

“No, no, no, damn it! Fuck!” He shakes you ever so slightly as you lay in his arms. “Heal yourself, please...”

You have to leave. He has no regard for you or anyone but himself. Chrollo, the boy who is only a few years older than you, yet you still bullied him, is gone. He didn’t care that you’re a non combatant. He was willing to sacrifice your life and his for his ego.

He only wants your ability, positively. Chrollo is gone. It is only the spider left. You have always hated spiders anyway.

________________

Nah, Silva remembers you. He almost died too. How can he forget that he was sent to kill the man responsible for the annihilation of an entire clan? It's hard to forget a case like that considering the brutality of the deaths.

And if Kurapika finds out that you are Number Four, the lost spider, he’ll lose it. He'll demand to see the tattoo, no doubt. You can’t show him that. Especially since you lost a bet with Machi and Paku and put it on a place that he just has no business looking at.

As long as you remain calm and blend in, no one will notice. If Kurapika comes in with Silva, you’ll leave before. Pretend that you are out of town or something. Actually, that’s a good idea. You quickly write a note telling your boy that you had to rush out and that you’d call him later. To help himself to the food and make sure to rest.

There is another rumble under your feet. It feels different. The screams are louder, the air more ominous by the second. What is this? It touches you like a familiar hand. Something cold and clammy. Is that...Nobunaga?

Don't panic, don’t panic. It's been years since you faked your death and abandoned them. They probably don’t remember you, right?

Nah, you pantsed Nobunaga in the middle of a dubbing. He was wearing the ranger’s underwear. He always vowed to get revenge, but he was stopped by Chrollo, of course. You’ve known these people for years and fought with them side by side. You saved him several times and healed him. He will remember you.

There is a deathly silence. Your skin raises goosebumps all over. You can feel him. Your old friend knows or is at least trying to figure out what’s going on. You take a deep breath and remain calm. It has always been easy to trick him. How many times did you do such a thing and lead him to embarrassing situations? And how many times did Chrollo get you out? Every. Single. Time.

You sure were spoiled rotten by Chrollo in every way. It drove people nuts. When you were dropped off in Meteor City at the age of five, you were a terror due to pain and heartbreak. There was only so much a child could take and you weren’t able to express it properly.

The priest held onto patience as much as he could, but no one could ever hold a candle to Chrollo’s patience. It is as if he is a saint. You'd bite, kick, and talk over him. When they dubbed the tapes, you would always turn the tv off just because it wasn’t what you wanted to watch. Uvogin was so close to beating you so many times, but Chrollo intervened and explained to them what empathy was.

However, he went overboard and spoiled you rotten. In the Troupe you got part of Chrollo’s shares including what was actually yours. He made sure that you were the most taken care of out of them all. He always helped you up and protected you the most. You weren’t able to go on a mission by yourself and had to have at least two people with you, just like him.

He always held a soft spot for you, you think. Even before you shared special moments. Until he stopped caring and went somewhere where you can’t follow.

Now that you have abandoned the Spider, Lord only knows what’ll happen. Will he spare you for old time’s sake? Or will Feitan, also known as “Little”, finally get his revenge because of the trash cans?

Or Machi’s cut up clothes, and Paku’s shaved head, or Uvo’s wedgies and bites, Phinks’s eyebrows that never grew back, Shalnark’s broken nose and the tack in his sho-

Oof, you’re going to die. And that was all done when you were like, six? There were plenty more years that you were just onery. Chrollo...that poor guy. The hell he went through before and after the Troupe...the patience of a saint.

Spoiled, spoiled, spoiled, rotten.

You were ungoverned and got away with things that the rest couldn’t. But this, rejecting the Spider, rejecting him, sheltering the last Kurta descendant...you’ll die.

Or be in a lot of pain.

Suddenly, you feel a sharpness crawling up your arm. They're coming. Another rumble occurs right when you back away from the sink. In the distance is a large body flying in the air with a trail of red following it. What?

With a gross thud that you swear everyone heard, lands Silva. Beaten, bloody, gone.

Well, there goes that problem. On to the next, which is Nobunaga. You're caught in his en somehow. Or whatever the hell that's called. Anyway, never did you think he’d grow and be able to stretch it out this far.

You start to leave calmly so he doesn’t suspect anything. Just a calm person that his en is confusing for someone else! Finally, you hear the even more terrible commotion. You know Kurapika is okay if the rumors of the powerful chain user are true. And he seemed to have a lot of help. Once you shake the Nobunaga off, you’ll make your way to Pika.

He doesn’t know that in your past you were one of the Spider’s legs. The fourth one, to be exact. The one who died by the hands of Silva Zoldyck, years ago. Soon after the Kurta’s extinction and after the fight with the Spider’s leader, the devil himself.

You lock the backdoor and head to the woods where there is a safe spot that Kurapika used to train. As you pass by the branches and the shady trees, you are blinded by the harsh memories of your dear friend, Sarasa. She and the Troupe are a few years older than you. They spent more time with her than you did but the memories of her, those precious moments that you wanted to last for years to come, that innocence, was stripped from you. You hold onto the specks of what was left of your childhood, before the truth of hell appeared.

A trash bag, a child inside, the Troupe, and Chrollo who faced it first and has never recovered.

You weren’t there to find her. It was broken down to you because of your youth and denial, you were staunch in the belief that it was a lie and that she was alive. The only one who had patience for you was Chrollo. The tantrums were the tipping point to the realization that she had suffered in her last moments.

When it hit you, he held you as you remained in shock. He catered to your every whim to fill in the shoes of the missing people in your life. And you left him.

How could you not? He left you first, abandoned you for a darkness that you couldn’t shine a light through. Chrollo believed that he was a messiah to the city and to his friends. They follow blindly when you can’t. You are a thief, not a heartless killer. The Kurta didn’t deserve their fate.

You push past a couple of thick bushes to be startled.

“Come here, now.” His voice is as smooth as you remember, just a little deeper now and more commanding. Although you know him and his quirks, the atmosphere is off. A creepy feeling of nothing in the air. You can’t sense him of his anger at all. Only a chill and a hair-raising sensation that doesn’t match anyone you know. Perhaps, this is fear.

You walk to him as you spot him in a clearing. “Chrollie.”

“A dead spider, huh.” He stands tall but casually with his hands in his pockets. His hair is slicked back and the tattoo on his forehead is more prominent. He’s shirtless and wears an odd coat. His style choice is different now than it was back then. Before, he would throw on normal Meteor City clothing, which consisted of whatever was around. Looking back, his favorite was a white shirt and plain black jeans. Now, he looks like he wears designer.

“Here I thought that you were squashed,” he looks you up and down, eyes narrowing. You feel vulnerable under his gaze. “All along you were here. Raising a devil that killed two of your own.”

You know about Uvogin and Pakunoda. Kurapika felt so guilty, after the events he vented to you. He sounded as young as he did when you took him in. Of course, you were hurt and cried when Kurapika wasn't looking. You mourned them as anyone would.

“I know about that-”

“And you still didn’t come back?” Chrollo is shaking, desperate to calm down. His fists are clenched so hard, you think they’ll bleed. This, you think, is the most anger he's ever shown. And it's toward you. “Could I? You would’ve killed me!”

“I would have accepted you with open arms, Number Four.” Would have.

Number Four. He didn’t even call you by your real name. “No, you would react just as badly as you are now.”

“Oh, my darling spider, you have no idea. All you had to do is trust me.” He shakes his head in disappointment.

_____________

“I’m not joining, Chrollie. I’m not calling you Boss, either.” You were disappointed that they actually went through with this. Years ago, you came across their little meeting. Chrollie looked at you and asked if you wanted to join but you called them all stupid.

“Why not? I'm the leader.” You roll your eyes. “No, you’re a theater nerd.”

You jump and sit on the desk. He comes up to you, only inches apart. Chrollie gently cradles your face. “That part of me is gone, darling.”

“Darling? Pretending to be all manly now? A gentleman? That's what 'darling' reminds me of. Those books you read.” You acknowledge that he’s grown up. He broader and stronger. His hands no longer smooth but are calloused and bigger than your own.

He erases how gentle he was caressing your face and replaces it with a commanding and firm touch on your cheeks. “Join me.”

“No.” You answer as well as you can with your cheeks squished. Suddenly, his lips touch yours. It is your first kiss. It sends shocks to your special place. He parts from you. Embarrassingly, you follow in his direction.

Quickly, you snap out of the trance of your first kiss. You shake your head in defiance. “I want to travel! I want to get out of this city and experience the highs. I've already touched the lows. I don’t want to get deeper.”

"You think we’re lower than you?” There’s an edge in his tone. One that tells you to tread carefully. However, you’re not shy when it comes to Chrollie.

“No. But I worry that you will be.” He tilts his head and asks, “Because you think I can’t take you to the there?”

He grabs your hand that is so much larger than yours. It's weird now. You are used to him leading you places but now you just realize the difference between you two. He’s...a man now. It’s all so new. You'll never admit that he makes you feel some type of way.

“Let me show you.”

Just like in the movies, you see a roller coaster for the first time. There are lights everywhere and smiling and laughing people. And not at you! Just the joys of life without worrying where the next meal is coming from. You spot the balloons in various animal shapes and see the fluffy candy. The pretzels are soft, and the fried dough the size of your head is to die for. You have never witnessed such freedom. The last time you have seen an inkling of joy was when you were a child and Chrollie was dubbing tapes.

The two of you get on the back of the ride. You cling onto his arm. “Scared?”

“No!” In truth, you were. Never in your life did you ever see one of these in person. Only on the videos Chrollo would pick up. It showed the ride going fast and high with screaming people. There were twists and sharp turns on the tape. And now, you get to be one of those people to experience it.

The ride starts. He wraps his right arm around you. The roller coaster shoots out causing you to flinch.

“I got you, trust me.” You curl into him as the ride takes a sharp turn. Right after it happened, you feel tracing between your legs. You look down and see Chrollie’s fingers rubbing against you.

It's...feeling really good. Your breaths become quicker as his fingers do figure eights through your underwear. You let out a little shriek when he pulls them down. Now, there’s nothing blocking him from you. The ride takes a sudden left.

You don’t know how it happened, how it led to this. What exactly did you say to him that incited him to massage your bud and insert a single finger inside you. Slowly coaxing moans that blend in with the screaming of everyone else. Never have you been so grateful for that. He places a kiss on your head. “Join me, swear to me.”

Another finger enters you. His palm rubs and presses against you. How are his fingers so long? Why are they bigger than yours and feel so much better?

You start to really moan as he goes faster. You lift up slightly to follow his motions with your hips. Chrollie bites and sucks on the spot under your ear. The ride starts to go up.

“Holy sh-oh God...” You breathily cry. He growls in your ear at the sound. “I’ll take you there, to the highs. So high you’ll never see the ground.”

You grab his wrist and move furiously, spreading your legs a little more to give him as much room as possible. You want more, need more. There is a feeling there that is about to pop. One that he can take.

“Swear to me.” You watch as the stars get closer. People make noises of excitement different than yours, but it blends. “Do you want me to stop?”

“N-no! I trust you!” You grab onto anything in reach as you give up trying to keep up with him. He's cradling you, his dominant hand relentless and lips sinful. A goose bump raising feeling starts. It's cold and is making you shake even more. Chrollo feels it too.

He's smiling when you gasp and your head goes back.

Everything is happening at once. Two different sensations, both caused by the boss, by Chrollo Lucilfer. And he knows it, he’s waited for it.

“Swear to me, trust me!” You grab his leg and squeeze it. “Let me take you there.” He whispers in your ear.

As the ride reaches the peak, so do you. Loudly, you swear to him. To the spider and his name. His hands and whatever energy is rushing to you, cause your eyes to go back. The squelching sound is loud, but your euphoric moans of his name are louder.

From what you gather in this state, the ride was supposed to stop. Supposed to stay on the rails rather than bounce a little. You didn't even notice that your aura was the cause for the ride's disruption.

When your high leaves you, you’re in a daze and glowing. He withdraws himself and sucks on his fingers. You gasp at the sight. It is pornographic, the hungry look in his eyes. The grey that you have known for years has become so dark and just by a lick. He grabs your hand gently and leads you away to finish what he started. Your legs shake along the way and for the rest of the night when the two of you are satisfied. The way he licked and sucked and swirled his tongue on the most delicate of places and thrusted himself inside had him gain the scratches on his back.

The two of you created a memory that neither of you would ever forget.

It wasn’t until you learn about the nodes do you hold a slight bitterness towards him. He caused yours to open wide because of this. Your aura nodes and a nen pact that binds you together. For the Spider.

____________

You swallow at the memory and plenty more of similar situations with your former boss. For years you trusted him fully. But somewhere along the way, he had lost it. “Chrollie, please understand. I just didn’t agree with it anymore.”

“Really?” He scoffs. He knows you are hiding the words to describe how it really was, how it is. You rub your eyes with the palms of your hands.

“When you killed that entire clan...tortured them, mutilated them...I couldn’t do it anymore. You wouldn’t listen to me. You only thought of yourself.”

“Excuse me?” His voice is low, and his eyebrows are raised. He's gotten so intimidating now. Before, he was someone you pushed over even when he was your boss. It has always been that way. You admit, you are spoiled. Undisciplined and rebellious to the Spider.

To Chrollo Lucilfer.

If you are going to die today, you are leaving with giving him a piece of your mind. A dose of reality that he no longer has.

“You completely lost yourself. How can you make dumb decisions like that?”

“Their eyes gave Meteor City a profit that helped millions. I did it for our city.” You shake your head no. “No, you did it for yourself. As some kind of sick powerplay! And everyone follows you blindly, and to do it without a thought. You guys kill for no reason. It didn’t use to be that way.”

Your lip wobbles at the memory of that day. You had gone up to Chrollo and went against the mission. It was stupid to you. It didn’t make any sense. They were going to kill these people because he wanted their eyes? You understand that he is greedy and increasingly vicious. But not cruel, not before the end.

He didn’t yell at you, but he did put you in your place with a stern yet calm voice. It was scary. Just as scary as he is now. You still couldn’t do it though. The thought of it made you cry.

So, he commanded you to keep watch and capture any stragglers. There were none. You ran away from the screams and ran into a boy with blond hair and blue clothing. A Kurta. The last one, to be exact. You begged him not to go over there. Afraid of his fate or him seeing the gruesome crime.

The Troupe were not there, only corpses. Eyes gouged out, bruises and bloody. Even the children. Lucilfer had become the devil himself.

You, without thought, took the boy in. You found a little village not too far away and raised him in a cottage. Unfortunately, you weren’t there every single day because of your “job”. One he knew nothing about.

Until your last day. You and Chrollo had been walking in Meteor City when Silva Zoldyck came. Someone called for him to eliminate the Troupe. Your dearest didn’t care that you aren’t really suited for fighting. Especially a Zoldyck.

That was your chance! So, when Silva had hit you with his Hatsu, you hid inside your energy and faked your death. It looked so real, felt like it too. It took a lot of healing and purifying to survive.

You had to do it. Your friends had lost their way. You couldn’t go along with it anymore.

“You left.” You whimper.

“Are you kidding me? I believe the one who abandoned the Spider, your friends, me, is you. My spoiled little brat .” He takes a few steps closer to your standing frame.

“You went to a place where I couldn’t follow. It was no longer about finding Sarasa’s killers or protecting the city. The Spider turned evil. I knew it was happening but I didn’t face it until years later when you committed a pointless massacre.” He ignored you and talked over you.

“You swore. And here I find you healthy, alive. While we are dying. We needed you and you left!” That ended with a powerful yell.

“You didn’t care about me either. I was no match for Silva yet you were willing to sacrifice me. You went to a place I just couldn’t -can’t- follow.”

A tear drips down your face. His face is furious and slicked back hair is coming undone by him running his hand through it. He stops when he sees your tear. Instinct takes over and he wipes it.

“Uvo, Paku, Shalnark, Korotopi. All gone and you could have stopped it. I was cursed by that boy to never talk to the Troupe again. We had to find an exorcist in Greed Island of all places because you decided we were trash.” His voice deceptively hushed and smooth. You shake your head no.

“Not trash. Just bad leadership.”

Chrollo’s eyes widen. This is the first time anyone has insulted his leadership. He immediately pulls your hair. You yelp and try to get out of his hold.

“And yet you do not complain of the riches I gave your greedy ass.” He growls.

“You are a profitable leader. A good provider. An excellent one. I hadn’t a need or want in the world,”

You struggle to get out of his grip. It loosens as you speak. “But you aren’t a true leader. A true one would never endanger his people like you have. Never would view them as replaceable.”

He tosses you on the ground. You accidentally land on your wrist. Chrollo paces back and forth. “Replaceable? Bad leader-ha! Oh, love you are something.”

He grabs your arms roughly. You try to yank your arm out of his grasp. “You’ve already replaced me!”

Chrollo shakes his head no. “I could never.”

“I’m sorry, Chrollie. I just-you-,” You take a deep breath. “Everything went downhill. We stopped looking for the killers like you promised. We weren’t Robin Hood anymore, either. Remember that story you read me? Take from the rich and give to the poor?”

“I remember.”

“It wasn’t that anymore. What was left was coldness and blood. And a boy whose life and childhood were taken from him. Just like ours. It wasn’t fair.”

“We support and provide for our home, not some random people.”

Frustrated, you retort, “You like to listen to the sound of your own voice too much. That's why you don’t listen! You don’t realize actions have consequences until shit like Uvo and Paku happen.”

He raises his hand. You flinch to brace for it. This is the first time he will strike you.

Time is frozen as you wait for the pain. You open your eyes and see what’s the hold up. Chrollo stands frozen with his hand still in the air still. His face is no longer hardened, but shocked. His mouth is slightly open and eyes have widened. He stares at his open palm as if it had a mind of its own, and he couldn't believe it.

Then he clears up once again to return to his previous deadly expression. Rather than striking you on your face, he lands his hand on your ass. You yelp at the impact.

“ Ow!” You rub the cheek he hit. “Why? Of all things?” Like him hitting your ass was supposed to be better than your face? It's demeaning!

He grabs your face with one hand and kisses you harshly, passionately. A confession, a return. Stupidly, you get lost in him like always.

_______

“No! You play this instead.”

“But I want to dub Cleanup Rangers...” Chrollo rubs his arm as he looks down at the nine year old. You were dropped off at the front doorstep of the church about a couple of years ago. Ever since then you’ve been a little terror. Always picking on people, on the priest, the entire city.

You are a tiny bully pushing everyone around because you’re hurt. Only Sarasa could fully calm you. While everyone else just visited the church from time to time, you were a child that had to live in it because no one liked you. You never got a nanny or substitute siblings. All you had was yourself and a priest who was often at his wits end. You had to follow him around and practice his teachings and study them. You were often times bored and thus angry at everything.

Sarasa was a God send in his eyes and yours. Chrollo was someone who tried to follow in Sarasa’s footsteps with you but lacked the ability to tell you no. He was a patient and caring boy, but one you walk over.

“I don’t care! This one!” You stomp your feet.

“Don’t let her push you around like that, Chrollo.” Uvogin recently hit a growth spurt, so he towered over you two completely.

“No! What I say goes. This one!” You show Uvogin the tape. “Do you even know what’s on it?”

“No. But I want to see.”

Chrollo hums and places the tape inside. It turns out, it was blank. You pouted as Uvogin teased you. His smile is wide and practically glows. The laugh is boisterous and bounces off the walls. Immediately, you hit him in his most sensitive spot, causing him to buckle and groan.

You scream at the top of your lungs. “Stop laughing at me!”

Laughter and a smile like that remind you too much of your parent when they dropped you off in this God forsaken, dirty, and polluted place. You hate it. “It’s okay. Here, we’ll do the Clean up Rangers and you can help if you want!”

Chrollo took out the blank tape and put it aside. He picked you up and placed you on the desk closest to him. Uvo hisses and glares at you. You frown and stick out your tongue.

“Listen, you can play the-”

“No. I'm scared of that.” He knows good and damn well you don’t listen. He looks at you confused until he deduces the problem. “Stage fright?”

Confused, you ask, “What’s that?”

Uvogin groans in the background with every dirty word he can muster. He curses Chrollo for being so gentle with you and a “pushover”. You quickly tell him to shut up or you’ll hurt him even worse.

“It’s when you get scared to talk in front of a bunch of people.” You sat in front of him and nodded. “Okay, how about you have a front row seat then! Make sure you cheer us on, alright?”

You're still pouting. He rubs your cheek. You want to play with the rest of them too! They never let you play normal things. He hugs you and rubs your back to console you.

“Trust me. It'll be fun!”

___________

You wrap your arms around his neck, gently tugging at his hair. What was a proclamation of dominance, turned into an embrace of passion. You part from him slightly. You rub his chest and ask, “Why did you lose your way? Killing all of those people?”

“Why did you stop trusting me?”

“You are willing to sacrifice everyone, even me.” That day with Silva Zoldyck was proof of your accusation, of your observation. He sucks on your neck with the intent of a mark. You give him a gasp. Slightly muffled, “Why do you doubt me? Do you honestly think I would have? You stopped trusting me.”

He nibbles on your ear. You try to pull away before you are totally caught in him. “The Kurta-”

“Are responsible for Sarasa’s death and for some of the trafficking of children. Getting rid of them was necessary. Do you understand?” He continues to kiss down your neck, making sure to suck on the best places. He holds you a little closer.

You want to believe there was a deeper reason for the extermination of the Kurta. “You barely remember it, so it can’t be true. Hell, how can I believe you when you don’t care about anyone?” He slaps your ass again. You are this close to smacking the shit out of him. You rub your bum in hopes to stop the stinging.

“Stop that! That’s not funny!” You pull away to see an indifferent face for a split second. Chrollo grabs the back of your hair and pulls you in once again. His personality flips like a switch. The sweetness is gone and back is the bloodlust and anger. Honestly, it never left. It was just hidden to trick you. He's a good actor like that.

____________

“What are you guys doing?” Phinks groans at the sight of you. Recently, he had to pull Feitan out of the trashcan again. Next to him is Feitan saying words in his native tongue that would have made a sailor blush. You blow a kiss to them both just to antagonize them.

“Enough, she’s part of the Spider now.” Chrollo, right on his forehead, has a cross tattoo that kind of resembles a web. You don't know where he got it done at.

“Her? What can she do?” Machi crosses her arms. You always wondered if she liked Chrollie. If she knew what the two of you did last night, she’d scream.

You’re still a little sore and flustered. But happy and satisfied. Never have you felt so good. At first it was so sweet and dare you say, loving. Then as the night went on it became animalistic.

Rather than sit around him, waiting to hang on to his every word, you sit next to him, chomping on some chips you found. You hear some groans and mumbles about how you are and how you’re going to get away with everything. Again.

You stick your tongue out and say, “That’s why I ain’t sharing...bitch ass.” Phinks crosses his arms. “Damn it...”

“Enough,” He stares down at you. “Like I said, she is a leg. And an exorcist.”

You feel his eyes on you again. You look up to see his eyes. “The fourth leg.”

________

“You are coming home, now.” He drags you by the back of your neck.

“Wait, stop!”

“Shut the ever living fuck up.” He squeezes you harder. Wasn't he just loving on you like two seconds ago? You have always wondered if he was all there. He seemed genuine when he was a kid but seeing the man he's become, you may never know.

“Hold on! You said the Kurta killed Sarasa. How do you know?”

“Sheila told us.”

You see the rest of the legs. They look unbothered until they see you. Shock is painted on their faces so vibrantly.

“I thought...I thought she hadn’t seen you in years?” You have a sense of confusion and suddenly, dread.

____

Sheila limps to a cave. You see her as you run away from the Troupe and their horrific actions. This happened right before you would spot a blond boy. “Sheila?”

“Oh my God!” She hugs you tightly. Her leg has always been messed up since she was a child.

You feel like crying at the sight of her. It has been you and the Spider for so long now, you were forgetting what Sheila was like. She was the closest thing you had to Sarasa. You had your own way of loving someone, but Sarasa seemed the most natural. A big sister, a mother even. A girl who always shared stickers with you and sang you to sleep.

“What’s going on?” She asks as you hug return her hug. “T-they’re killing them!”

“Who? Who’s dying?”

“The Kurta!” Sheila gasps. “I was just with them. Oh no, did I-”

You sniffle and wipe your eyes. “No, no. This is on them.”

“And the Kurta were so nice too. Harmless, peaceful.”

____

Why did she say that if she knew they killed Sarasa? When did her and Chrollo talk? You were with Chrollo the whole time, so it couldn’t have been that day.

You see Sheila in the background. She is looking down at the ground, then looks up with the most wicked smile and gleam. What? You stare back with horror. Never has she had that smile. It is foreign and totally misplaced. This is Sheila, not a Troupe member. Why is she even here? She isn’t a part of it and disapproved of the group.

Then, everything is falling together.

Everyone’s faces are that of monsters.

You don’t understand. She told them of their whereabouts. She said something completely different to you. And of course, you believed her. Her and Sarasa were like sisters. They were so close it was like looking at twins. Never would you have thought she could commit such a sin. The Kurta were innocent, but...what’s going on? Everyone was desperate to capture Sarasa’s killers-oh no. You stop moving your feet, only to be dragged by Chrollo Lucilfer. He moves his hand from your neck to your arm in a tight hold, tripping you along the way.

“No, no, no!” You’re trying to yank free. How can he not see it? He’s the smartest person you know. How can he not see what had taken place that day? The horror, the blood and mutilation. Chrollo, you must see this!

The Kurta and Sarasa were innocent. Kurapika...your boy.

“Chrollo, don’t you see?” You whisper for only him to hear. He looks down at you as the rain begins to fall gracefully.

You can feel the tears swell.

Does he know what happened that day? That the Troupe and Sheila are monsters. And not just because of the Kurta’s extinction. You may not have all of the puzzle pieces, but by the reactions alone, it becomes clearer.

Out of everyone here, you struggle to read him. Always have, even when you were kids. You only catch the truth from time to time when he gives it to you. They are few in between.

“Have they made a fool of you?” It is rare to one up Chrollo. His power can wipe nations, his aura is powerful and vast, his commanding tone is one that cannot be ignored.

“Sacrifices have to be made.” He bluntly answers without a hint of remorse or second thought. His tone is final and dead. Like he has nothing else to say about it.

_______

“I’m fucking sick of her-!” Uvogin plops down on the chair. It creaks under him. Before Uvogin can continue his ranting, another voice pipes up on the matter of a certain little girl.

“She’d...be fun.” His voice is recognizable to anyone due to his lack of pure fluency. His hair is choppy right now because a brat got her hands on a pair of scissors. The thick, black, strands are being fixed by Pakunoda. It isn’t the best, but at least it wouldn’t look as bad as it did.

Machi taps her foot. “She would be, huh?”

“It can’t be us, though. Too obvious.” Shalnark points. Collectively, the friends are beginning to plan and imagine a better Meteor City.

“Are you guys being serious, right now? This is a child you’re talking about.” Pakunoda taps on Feitan’s shoulder, signaling that she’s done. He turns back to look at her and answers, “Deadly.”

Machi sighs. “You’re right, Shal. It is too obvious. And we have rehearsal with Chrollo, too.”

Pakunoda crosses her arms. “This isn’t sitting right. Something is going to go wrong.”

“Remember your shaved head?” Machi asks. Pakunoda tenses up at the memory of you butchering her hair. Who keeps giving you scissors? You would be cute with that crooked smile of yours if it wasn't caused by the loss of her hair.

“There are a lot more bad things going on in the city. Accidents happen all the time, Paku.” Nobunaga puts his hair into a bun. Pakunoda remains silent. “We can’t let anyone else know. Only ones in this room.”

As said, bad things happen to kids in Meteor City all the time.

Sarasa decided to go find a tape instead of you since you have a habit of picking blanks. You stomped your foot in protest. You wanted to go! You’d finally had the right directions to pick up some good tapes, anyway. Alas, Sarasa went while Chrollo soothed you.

She skips along and sees a few men ready to welcome her in the worst way.

“Is it her?” Uvogin’s heart is racing. It's pounding so loud it’s in his ears. The rain is the only outside noise as Chrollo reluctantly opens the bag.

Chrollo opens the bag and sees the face of Hell. Uvo grabs him and demands to know what is on the note since he can't read it. The wrong face is behind that letter, that much is known. The wrong directions were given to the wrong child. Everyone needs to know. To hear the mistake and pain, the truth.

The words on that letter will never be spoken.

_____

“The Kurta is an isolated clan with special eyes. They'd be a good cover, no?” Sheila asks. Lately, Sarasa’s murder is being brought up more and more. Chrollo is turning into the leader that Meteor City needs. And an omnipotent being. A terrifying, controlling, mastermind of a god. One that demands respect and cooperation, devotion to what he’s created: a spider. But that spider has one weakness that at a drop of a hat, can cause this god to wreak havoc on everything.

Calm and collected he appears, but thunderous when he strikes. Loyal to what is his, but horrible in all.

“So, the Kurta. Agree?”

“Aye.” They say in unison. “It’s not like anyone would miss them.”

_____

The more you study him, the more you wonder if he knows. Was he blind or was he in on it and spun that story of him finding her? How could any of them do this?

“Please, not you...” You whisper. Chrollo’s book is open to a page fit for an exit. A green portal opens. “No! No, no, no!”

You struggle even more as everything, except for Chrollo’s role, becomes clear. You are not the smartest, but you are stupid. Years in that blasted city has taught you valuable lessons of reading people. Years of knowing these people have given you an advantage on top of that. Well, not everything obviously. “Chrollo, what did you do?”

He glances down at you once more. “I am the Head, my fourth limb. But even a spider has a treasure to keep.”

His grey eyes are dull but with the slightest hint of possessiveness. You'd recognize it anywhere. It is the same look he gave you when you saw him today, it is the same when you first met him and he had decided to keep you under his wing, it is the same as when you finally joined the Troupe.

This wicked gleam has always sought you, always found you. Unfortunately, you could never read them other than that. Like you said, he only shows what he wants you to see and even then, it is blurry. God, you wish you could. If only for a moment to answer your question. Just a straight answer, the truth, about how or why Sarasa died. She was innocent and sweet. She was your friend! Everyone’s, actually.

So, why? What could she have possibly done to deserve such a fate? How can he not see the true culprits? What about the Kurta? Did he know and went with it anyway?

No, that’s a bad deal. It can’t be just one question and one answer. You have too many questions. And not a single one will be answered, you bet.

He drags you to the portal. The Troupe starts to enter it. Phinks looks at you for a split second. For that one second his eyes look...sad? No, that’s not possible with someone like him. Like them. You are accepting that you’re in danger, but not that these beasts have a heart or a capability of remorse.

You look around frantically. Where's Kurapika? Is he dead?

Would he save someone like you?

“(Y/n), who are you looking for?” Chrollo asks. He doesn’t even look at you. You want to call out for Kurapika, but that’d expose him to danger. No, if your boy hates you let that be so. At least he’ll be okay. Hopefully he has learned to make his own attire.

“You can’t do this, Lucilfer.”

“But dear, I can, I have, and I will.” A few more steps to the portal. “Lucilfer, I don’t want to go.”

You yank your arm out of his grasp. “Stop this! I don’t want to go. Do you know what they did?”

He calmly turns around and stares at you. He expected this behavior from you. He walks to your frozen form, causing the few survivors of the village to jump. Once again, he cradles your face and places the gentlest of kisses on your lips. They're still soft, you note. Still full and masterful.

Right as your eyes are about to close, you see that he is looking at something past you as the kiss begins to get more intense. More possessive by his hold and the movement of his lips. His grey eyes are narrowed at something that you can’t see.

Is this a claiming? What the hell is he looking at? Done being curious, you turn to look and see your boy Kurapika’s horrified and furious expression. You have no thoughts other than your impending fate. Your vicious crimes and relentlessly cruel past have resurfaced in the form of a wicked man. The boy you took care of and never verbally admitted you loved him as your own, is ruined even more. His heart is broken.

Sarasa is gone, the Spider reigns supreme, and you are stuck. There are more questions than answers at this point. Too many lies from a group that cling together in some sick and twisted loyalty. You have accepted that in the middle of that is the boy you admired and maybe even loved.

And you finally understand what Phinks meant. It wasn’t remorse, it was pity for an old and spoiled friend as they are pushed onto the spider’s web.

#chrollo lucilfer #chrollo lucilfer x reader #hxh #chrollo x reader #oof he's got me #angst #slight yandere #yandere #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere hxh #smut #mild smut #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #hxh fanfic #q #cant be the only one who thinks the cross tattoo looks like a web??

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alwaysmicado · 10 months ago

Text

predator & prey

8.6k | 18+ MDNI | Nathan Bateman x f!reader

Warnings: consensual non-consent, restraints, manhandling, face slapping, hard choking, rough p in v sex, biting, creampie, pain kink, degradation/praise, subdrop, aftercare, soft(ish) Nathan Summary: Nathan fulfills your fantasy of being taken in the woods. Can you handle it? A/N: Living in the middle of nowhere has its perks...Can be read alone or as an extension of in control. I'm so beyond excited to finally share this with you!! It's been wreaking havoc in my brain for months now. Enjoy the ride and let me know what you think! 🖤

As the last rays of the setting sun dip below the horizon, casting the world into a deep indigo hue, Nathan grabs the neatly folded pile of clothes, your trail running shoes, and his backpack. Still in your sweats, you’re taken aback when he steps into your office, his hand finding your shoulder.

“Put these on,” he tells you, his voice betraying no particular emotion. He hands you a pair of jeans in your size and an oversized, white t-shirt, along with a nude bra and panties. You swallow and look up at him, catching the subtle glint in his eyes.

“Time to go.”

You dress as instructed, your fingers deftly lace up your shoes, and the two of you set off.

The crisp air gently nibbles at your cheeks, and the faint glow of twilight casts a soft ambiance as the crunch of leaves and gravel beneath your feet echoes through the stillness around you. The air holds a charged energy, and each one of your steps carries a weight of anticipation. Your muscles are tense, your senses heightened, acutely aware of what lies ahead.

Nathan’s demeanor is casual. He’s smiling, asking about your day, about the project that’s been giving you a headache for the past two weeks. You give him a semi-honest answer, admitting that you’ve been stressed, but omitting the fact that you’ve cried yourself to sleep over it more than once.

“You’ll figure it out,” he reassures you with a soft smile. Your furrowed brow meets his confident gaze, and for a moment, you study his face. He’s sincere.

You’re used to discussing your work with Nathan, it’s what you’re living with him for, after all. And despite your…complicated relationship with him, he has never questioned your professional skills.

That’s all on you. Your perfectionism is draining.

As you reach the edge of the woods after a half-hour march along the river, darkness begins to cloak you like a shroud. The trees whisper secrets, and the unknown looms like a specter in the night. Nathan activates the small portable light attached to his backpack, rolls his shoulders, and fixes his gaze on you.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and excitement courses through your veins, fueled by a potent blend of curiosity and trepidation.

“You know what’s about to happen,” he says calmly, tilting your chin up with his gloved fingers to search your eyes. “Take a deep breath. We’re not starting until you’re ready.”

You take a moment to gather yourself, inhaling the grounding scent of earth and pine, your eyes locked onto his.

“Choose a path and make sure you memorize it. Be aware of your surroundings and where you’re going. Do not look back.” He rubs your cheek softly with his thumb as his dark eyes pierce your soul.

Sensing the rough leather of his gloves against your skin sends a chill down your spine as memories of pain and pleasure flood your mind.

These gloves have choked you until you passed out, just to slap you awake again. They’ve penetrated all your holes simultaneously, teasing you, stretching you, making you come over and over again. They’ve split your lip, caressed your cheek, spread Nathan’s cum all over your face, wiped away your tears.

There’s no part of your body they haven’t thoroughly explored in a tantalizing dance between violent and soft touches.

And Nathan only ever wears them for you.

As you study the man in front of you, the only man you’d willingly follow into the unknown, his presence feels both reassuring and elusive—a paradox you’ve come to not only accept but cherish. The intricate interplay of familiarity and mystery that shapes your connection is not just comforting; it’s irresistibly alluring.

In his all-black attire, he presents an effortlessly handsome yet imposing figure. You appreciate the boots on his feet, a deviation from his usual habit of walking around barefoot, and how they seamlessly blend into the darkness of his tactical pants secured by a familiar belt.

While the physical marks from your last encounter may have healed, allowing you to shower and sit down again without writhing in pain, the mere sight of the leather item makes you wince and sends a jolt of electricity through the muscles in your ass cheeks and thighs.

Provoking Nathan is fun, but the consequences hurt. Badly.

Your gaze wanders further up, drawn to the hoodie that tightly embraces his broad frame, accentuating the breadth of his shoulders and the defined contours of his chest. It’s one of your favorite sights, second only to seeing him completely bare. Beneath his glasses, dark eyes fixate on you with a keen intensity, silently assessing the anticipation evident on your face.

Finally, your eyes reconnect with his, and the magnetic force of his gaze draws you into the depths of his desires. You see the lust in his eyes, the look of raw hunger etched across his face. It’s a look you’ve grown to both crave and fear, a look only you bring out of him.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Alright.” He nods and takes a step back from you, his scowl deepening. “Ten.”

You’re up and running before ‘nine’ even fully leaves Nathan’s lips. You don’t look back as his booming voice echoes behind you. Do you remember the path you chose? Do you know where your feet are carrying you into the mist, through the labyrinth of trees, fast, faster than they’ve ever carried you? You better run, little bunny, run, run away from him.

Ignore your racing heart, ignore the weight of his presence, ignore the forest closing in around you. You need to run. Run through the shadows, run away from him. Can you feel his eyes on you? The predator’s eyes locked on his prey?

Your time is up. He’s coming for you.

Nathan’s eyes follow you, vigilant, watching as your silhouette disappears into the forest, his heart pounding in his chest. Swiftly, he fastens the chest strap of his backpack, tightens his gloves, turns off the light, and lunges into a run. He’s on your trail.

Can you feel him? Can you feel him chasing you, drawing nearer with every frantic beat of your heart? He’s not going to stop until he catches you.

And you know what happens when he does, don’t you?

You’re sprinting, the crunch of leaves and the snap of twigs beneath your shoes creating a frenzied symphony in your haste. Panic creeps in, its icy fingers tightening around your racing heart. The air, now cold and damp, clings to your skin, making you shiver. You run further along the path you’ve chosen, quickly, as quickly as your aching muscles will allow.

Are you scared? Is that why your breath comes in shallow gasps, and your eyes shimmer with unshed tears? Ah, yes. Yes, you are scared. That’s good. You should be. Let the tendrils of fear wrap around your every move, and embrace the primal instinct that tells you to run, run like a rabbit chased by a hungry fox.

He’s going to sink his teeth into your neck and tear you apart, tear you to shreds.

Your cold feet carry you along the path you chose, deeper into the woods, deeper into the darkness. Trees blur past, bathed in moonlight, casting enigmatic figures on the path ahead. You can’t stop. He trails behind, a shadow in the darkness, tracking your scent, treading the path your feet imprinted moments before. Can you hear him panting, can you feel his hot breath on your neck? He’s on your heels, inching closer, so close to catching you, so close to having you.

You’re a fast little bunny, Nathan quietly acknowledges, his hungry gaze capturing a glimpse of your shirt. It only heightens the thrill for him, pursuing someone deserving of his dominance.

Oh, how he’s going to enjoy devouring you.

He’s behind you, pacing himself, feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He’s calm and calculated in his hunt for you, his feet carrying him swiftly towards you. You must hear the branches snapping under his heavy boots, you must feel the heat radiating off his body.

How do you feel? Are you afraid or turned on right now? Be honest. He’s not going away, you’re not going to escape him, he’s going to get you. Have you made peace with your fate?

You should have listened to him. Fuck. A fleeting glance backward is all it takes for you to lose your balance and trip over your own feet, twisting your ankle. The harsh ground rushes to meet you, hands breaking your fall, immediately sending a sharp pain through your arms and shoulders from the impact. Gasping for air, on the brink of tears, you fumble back to your feet, rising as quickly as your sore knees permit.

Where are you? Where has fate led you? The urgency to run grips you again, urging you to flee, escape. Start moving—now. Away from him. Are you sure you chose the right path? Darkness envelops you. Your vision is blurry, you’re tired, your body hurts. The echo of your breath lingers, a haunting reminder of your vulnerability. He’s so near, closing in. Why are you doing this?

A surge of adrenaline in your bloodstream propels you forward, numbing the pain in your ankle and legs. You push yourself into a sprint, using all of your determination and strength, ignoring the heart in your chest threatening to explode. Do not stop. No matter how suffocating the open space around you feels now, no matter how much the cold wind bites your face, no matter how much you yearn for respite.

Do not stop.

You keep running, heart pounding, panic rising. You hear him, feel him, know he’s toying with you like a cat playing with the mouse it’s about to rip apart. You like that, don’t you? The anticipation. Dull pain in your muscles slows you down, slows your desperate escape.

Exhaustion and vigilance intermingle, fear collides with excitement, and amidst the confusion, a strange clarity emerges. This is it. He’s here.

He’s on you – you’re free.

Nathan’s weight bears down, the forceful impact knocking the breath out of your lungs, his hands and knees pressing you face down into the unforgiving, cold ground. The weight of his breath, heavy and labored, blends with the earthy scent on your lips, clouding your mind.

“Caught you,” Nathan growls into your ear, his dangerous tone of voice causing your whole body to shudder with an urgent sense of dread. He’s panting, his teeth clenched as he grabs your neck, his gloved fingers painfully digging into your skin, putting his weight on you as you scream and thrash under him. He caught you, he has you, you’re his now.

Your brain races in overdrive as the primal fight-or-flight instinct kicks in, telling you to ‘fight, fight, little bunny’.

Go on, act like you don’t want it.

“No, get off me,” you scream at him, clawing at his hand on your neck, writhing and struggling to escape his grip. You can feel the sneer on his face, can feel his satisfaction with your predicament. Do you really want to resist him? That’s not true, is it? You don’t actually want him to stop, don’t want him to listen to the pathetic pleas leaving your lips. No, no, you don’t want that.

You want him to have you, to take you, to ravage you.

What a sick girl you are.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Nathan snarls, his knees pinning your legs down, his grip on your neck intensifying while his free hand retrieves something from one of his pockets.

“You’re mine now. Mine to take, mine to hurt,” he grabs your chin roughly, his dark eyes boring into you. “And you better believe I’m gonna make it hurt.”

Are you scared of him? He’s stronger than you. He’s going to hurt you. You made him chase you, made him chase what’s his. You’re going to pay for that, little bunny. You’re going to pay for trying to deny him. Can you see the fire burning in his eyes? That’s all for you.

Grabbing your wrist, he forcefully twists your arm behind your back, ignoring your pained groan as you struggle and try to resist. With practiced efficiency, he repeats the motion with your other arm, his gloved fingers digging into your flesh. He needs to use all of his strength to keep your hands in place as he fastens the zip tie tightly around your bare wrists, effectively immobilizing your hands.

You’re bound, restrained—like a little present on a plate, primed and ready for the taking. Does it hurt? Does it hurt to be this helpless, this vulnerable? Struggle all you want. There’s no way you can escape now.

Your fate is sealed.

Nathan manhandles you onto your back, grabbing you by your shoulder, then immediately straddles you and sits on your thighs to keep you pinned down. You can see the dark glint in his eyes and the violent desire painted across his face. Does that make you wet? The lust, the hunger, the raw need he has for you?

He knows, little bunny. You’re so pathetic.

“Fuck you,” you defiantly spit at him, as the subtle smirk on Nathan’s face stirs the rebellious voice simmering in your mind.

It’s the same inner voice that urges you to provoke him when your ass is already black and blue, the voice that tells you to deliberately graze his cock with your teeth, so he’ll grab your neck and fuck your throat harder, the voice that tells you to come without permission, so he’ll overstimulate you until you’re too weak to cry — the voice that tells you you need more.

Nathan strikes you hard across the face, splitting your lip. Tears spill from your eyes, and a surge of adrenaline floods your veins. The impact on your cheek is so intense that your head recoils, seeking refuge away from him, eyes clamped shut in an attempt to find solace in darkness. He denies you that respite.

“Look at me, whore!” His hands are on your throat in an instant, knocking your head against the ground, ruthlessly pressing on your veins, crushing you, choking you.

His eyes blaze with a wild fervor, pupils dilated to an almost feral intensity. The lines on his face contort, a mixture of raw desire and twisted pleasure etched across his features. Desire and dominance intertwine as his gloved fingers tighten even further around your neck, each breath he denies you heightening the predatory satisfaction he feels.

The crushing grip on your throat sends shockwaves of panic through every fiber of your being, alerting your body to resist. Resist him. Resist him or die. With your hands bound behind your back, your struggles are futile, your desperate squirms and frenzied kicks against the unyielding ground only fueling Nathan’s arousal.

Can you taste your own fear on your bloody lips? Delicious, isn’t it?

The world around you blurs, your head spinning, your heart racing, the dark grip of unconsciousness tightening around you. Dumb little bunny, willingly jumping into the fox’s den. What did you think was going to happen?

You’re so helpless under him, so vulnerable, so utterly…human.

Nathan’s cock is so fucking hard it hurts.

Right on the edge, as the vacant look in your eyes hints at a mind detaching from reality, he lets go of your throat with a growl, and takes off his gloves. Convulsing, you desperately gasp and cough and splutter as precious air revives your lungs. Your vision gradually returns, and as you gaze upward through tear-filled eyes, the vast expanse of the night sky unfolds above you, a celestial canvas painted with a myriad of stars.

It’s beautiful. Chaotic. Intimidating. Soothing.

Then, his eyes come into focus. Those deep, dark, intense eyes you could drown in. Wouldn’t that be nice? You see fire in them, hunger, calculated power, and…something else.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re scared,” you hear Nathan pant, his bare hands gripping your cheeks firmly, before he leans in and presses his lips on yours in a messy, violent kiss. You’re still gasping for air, but he doesn’t care. He needs to taste you, to devour you, to claim you as his.

He’s frenzied now, moaning into your mouth, gripping your jaw, sliding his hand under your shirt, along your belly and further up, pulling your bra down. He bites your lip, tasting your blood on his tongue, bruising you, marking you. You sob against his lips, out of breath, in pain, mind reeling, so desperate to be close to him you’re shaking.

He laughs at the pathetic sounds you make as he sucks and bites at the sensitive skin of your neck while hungrily groping your tits, his hand exploring your soft skin, squeezing, twisting, punishing. He tugs at your erect nipples, loving how you arch your back and how your cries echo in the night.

“Scream all you want, baby,” he murmurs into the crook of your neck before peppering soft kisses along your jaw, his free hand moving down your belly and into your pants. “Nobody’s coming to save you.”

You cry and whimper as blood, spit and tears stain your face, giving Nathan exactly what he wants. God, you’re perfect.

He slips his hand into your panties, groaning at the feeling of your wetness, his fingers sliding through your folds, making you moan and clench around nothing when he brushes your swollen clit. You beg him to stop, twisting and pulling your arms back and forth under yourself, trying to wriggle your hands free to push him off. But it’s no use, is it? Poor baby. You’re bound, you’re, ensnared, like a fly caught in the spider’s silk, each struggle only tightening the threads around you.

What are you so afraid of? Why are you trying to resist so hard? Is it fear or is it the fact that you’re sopping wet from being violated?

The truth hurts, little bunny, it really does. But you can’t escape it.

Overwhelmed with Nathan’s assault on your senses, you gaze up at him with pleading eyes, his wicked grin widening with every agonizing second as he’s relishing the betrayal of your body. You’re such a depraved whore, letting him hurt you and getting off on it. He loves that you are, and he wants you to know that. He wants you to know how much he fucking loves hurting you, how much he wants you. All of you.

He can’t take it anymore. He needs to feel you.

Sitting up straight, he kneels between your legs, momentarily abandoning your tit and your pussy to hastily fumble with the button and zipper of your jeans. Can you see how hard his cock is straining against his pants and how hard his chest is heaving? Can you see what you’re doing to him? He’s in agony and he’s finally going to get his relief from you.

If only he hadn’t underestimated you.

A split second. A split second of lust-fueled distraction is all it takes for Nathan to give you an opportunity to get out. And you take it.

It all happens so fast.

The forceful kick you deliver to his abdomen shocks you both. He gasps as the unexpected blow catches him off guard, and he stumbles backward, crashing onto the backpack strapped to his shoulders. The impact jars through his spine, making him groan in pain as he feels the sturdy surface of the thermos he brought pressing into his back. Hearing his pitiful groans stuns you for a fleeting moment, a hint of concern creeping in.

You catch a quick glimpse of Nathan’s dark eyes and that’s when the flight instinct finally kicks in, telling you to get the fuck up and run.

Oh, what have you done, little bunny?

You wriggle on the ground, pain pulsating through your body as you scramble to your feet, wrists still bound behind your back. You run, feet pounding against the uneven forest floor, frantically, unsteady, driven by a primal need to escape.

Your eyes, wide with terror, dart wildly in all directions, desperately searching for an escape route. The whites of your eyes stand out starkly against the backdrop of fear, reflecting the moonlight that filters through the trees overhead. Each breath is visible, quick and shallow, as if the very air you inhale carries the weight of your anxiety. The cold air stings in your lungs, each breath hurting your sore throat.

“You fucking bitch!” Nathan’s furious shouts echo behind you as he pulls himself up with a pained groan, a relentless pursuit that adds to the drumming rhythm of your heart. “Running won’t save you, you stupid girl. You’re mine. And when I—fuck—when I catch you I’m gonna hurt you like I’ve never fucking hurt you before.”

Your blood freezes in your veins at his words, but you don’t respond, focusing solely on the path ahead. Running, panting, gritting your teeth, trying to keep your balance with bound hands. Twisting and turning through the dense foliage, you try to outsmart your pursuer, relying on instincts honed by fear. The shadows dance around you, leaves crunching beneath your feet. You better run, little bunny, run, run away from him.

You think a little groping and choking was bad? Oh, you naive thing. That was nothing. He means it when he says he’ll hurt you like never before. But you know that, right? That’s why you’re running now even though your body is threatening to collapse. You just had to be defiant, hm? You just couldn’t accept that you fucking loved what he did to you.

Now look where your pride got you. Was it worth it?

He’s catching up to you, determined to win, his quick feet carrying him through the mist, his angry shouts getting closer. Can you feel his anger, his hot breath on your neck? Can you feel the venom with which he spits his threats at you? There’s nothing more dangerous than a wounded animal.

“You think you can escape me, you dumb bitch?” Nathan’s voice is a predatory growl, following your every move.

His cruel laughter chases you like a haunting melody, spurring you on to push your aching muscles harder. The forest seems to tighten around you, an inescapable labyrinth closing in as the predator hunts its prey. And then it happens again. He’s got you.

As you dart left, he anticipates your move, and your bodies collide with a force that knocks the wind out of you. You both tumble to the ground with a thud, intertwined, leaves and dirt swirling around you in a chaotic dance.

“No, no, no,” you scream, thrashing about like a wounded animal caught in a bear trap.

You’re so much stronger than Nathan anticipated, it’s incredible. He knows you have a high pain tolerance, but your resilience is honestly amazing. You truly are the perfect prey.

You squirm and struggle to get away again, but Nathan puts all of his weight on you, pinning you face down under him, your face pressed into the mud, his fingernails digging into your arms so hard you’re making yourself bleed when you desperately try to pull away from his grip. His eyes burn with a mixture of fury and triumph as he pants against your neck, his knees digging into the back of your thighs, one hand moving to press on your neck.

“That’s enough,” he growls through gritted teeth, as you just won’t give up, even though he can feel your exhaustion.

He slaps your exposed cheek as he holds your neck steady, the sharp crack of the impact echoing in the oppressive darkness. A surge of pain courses through you like lightning, leaving a heavy imprint on your senses. Before you can fully register the sting, he ruthlessly yanks on your shirt’s collar, revealing the vulnerable expanse of your shoulder.

Without hesitation, he bites into your flesh, dragging his teeth, breaking your skin. His assault is akin to a wolf sinking its razor-sharp fangs into prey, tearing into your body with a savage hunger. It hurts worse than anything you can remember. Your body’s in shock and your cries come out soundless, weak, futile. He’s pushing you to your limits.

When he’s had his fill, he wipes his bloody mouth, sits up and turns you on your back, immediately straddling your thighs as one of his hands constricts around your bruised neck. The pressure is not yet enough to completely cut off your air supply, but it’s enough to evoke vivid and terrifying memories of how he choked you just moments ago. The implied threat is enough to keep you still.

Nathan slings off his backpack in a swift motion using his free hand and turns on the light. He then takes a few seconds to look into your wet, glazed-over eyes, caressing your tender cheek with an unexpectedly gentle touch, tracing your soft skin with his palm. He can see it in your dilated pupils, he can feel it radiating off your body, he can hear it in your trembling voice as you can’t hold back the pathetic little whimpers escaping your lips.

You’re flying.

Seeing the need in your eyes, his handprint on your cheek, his bite mark on your shoulder, and the blood on your lips makes his cock throb in his pants. He can’t wait anymore, he needs you.

He lets go of your neck with a menacing growl, moving back to sit between your legs. His unwavering gaze remains locked onto yours, stripping you of any semblance of agency. He quickly grabs the waistband of your jeans and drags them over your ass and down to your thighs like you’re a doll — like you’re one of his androids. Sentient, but not in control.

It’s so peaceful, isn’t it? Being his toy. His little slut to play with.

You feel your panties being yanked down, feel the cold breeze on your pussy as Nathan lifts and bends your legs for better access, feel him holding your thighs with a tight grip. He can see how wet you are, how swollen your clit is, how much your body craves his violence. And he’s going to give it to you. All of it. Because he craves it just as badly. His cock is aching for you, rock-hard, pulsating, desperate to feel the warmth of your cunt.

He hastily pulls down his pants with controlled movements, revealing just how much his body wants you. You can see his cock through your wet lashes, causing your walls to clench around nothing and your hips to jerk at the sight; a conditioned response from the hours upon hours of ecstasy he’s given you.

“All for you, my little whore,” Nathan says with a sly grin as he follows your hungry gaze and reaches down to grab the object of your attention. Locking eyes with you and searching them for a second, he strokes the tip of his cock up and down your slick, puffy lips once, twice, and then pushes into your cunt in one forceful thrust.

You whine pathetically as he stretches you open with a loud groan, your toes curling in your shoes, the feeling almost too much to bear. He gives you no time to adjust before he pulls out completely and slams back inside as hard as he can, pushing your body up on the cold ground.

“F-fuck yeah,” he groans as he bottoms out deep inside you, savoring the delicious feeling of your wet pussy sucking him in. “That’s it…Now, be a good whore and take it.”

You can’t hold back your moans as he starts fucking you at a relentless pace, holding on to both of your thighs, putting his weight on them, pressing them against your torso. The angle makes you incredibly tight and allows him to go deep, deep inside of you.

Nathan’s gaze penetrates yours, watching in awe as the need in your eyes grows bigger and bigger with every inch of his cock stretching you, with every snap of his hips against your thighs, with every demeaning word he spits at you as he takes what he wants, reducing you to a toy he can use and abuse.

You take it, take everything he gives you, take it so well. You take it until you can’t anymore.

“Please stop,” you whimper as his deliberate, continuous hits to your cervix cause you immense pain.

Nathan laughs breathlessly. You’re so cute when you pretend that’s not exactly what you need. What hurts more, huh? The pain of him using you or the fact that you’re close to coming from it?

“Can’t take it, slut?” he pants as he can feel his cock swell deep inside of you, your pussy gripping him like a vise. You feel so fucking good. “What happened? I thought you wanted this.”

“Hurts…” you whine as fresh tears run down your temples. You writhe under him, trying to move your legs, but it’s no use. You’re trapped.

“I know it hurts, baby,” he coos in response, his voice deceptively soothing. “But I need you to be good for me. You wanna be good for me, don’t you? Yeah, you do. You wanna be my good girl. That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

His words send heat straight to your core, causing your walls to flutter around his cock. God, you’re a perfect little fuckdoll.

You yelp in surprise as Nathan suddenly leans in, putting your calves on his shoulder, crushing his lips against yours in a feverish kiss. You instinctively open your mouth for his tongue to slide inside, wanting to taste him, to feel him, to have him claim you completely.

The coil in your lower belly is wound tight and ready to snap at any moment. You’re so close. You moan into his mouth as his tongue swirls around yours, and he groans in response, his hips picking up the pace, slamming into you feverishly. Your pitiful cries evaporate in his mouth as his cock hits your cervix over and over again, determined to make you come from pain.

He can feel you burning up against his body, can taste the desperation on your trembling lips, can feel your pussy gripping him so hard it hurts. You’re fucking loving this. He chuckles against your lips as you start jerking your hips, trying your hardest to get more friction on your clit.

Poor little bunny.

He’s not going to touch you. You’re going to come like this or not at all.

Not giving you even one second to catch your breath, he draws back from your lips and immediately grabs the base of your neck with a firm grip to pull himself deeper inside you with every harsh thrust. Lightheaded, mind reeling, your overstimulated body is screaming for release.

“Nathan…” you sob, your voice a mere whisper as tears stream down your temples.

“That’s right, slut. Keep fucking crying,” he groans, his hips stuttering for a moment when he feels your pussy twitch around his cock. You’re so close. Your whole body is trembling and your moans are getting louder and louder as he’s picking up the pace, thrusting into you relentlessly, telling you what a depraved little whore you are for coming on his cock.

It only takes a handful more of Nathan’s measured thrusts before the coil inside you finally snaps and you crash into your orgasm at full speed. Your walls clamp down around his cock so hard he can barely keep moving, and the overwhelming ecstasy that spreads through your body and mind makes you forget who or where you are. You feel weightless, free, whole as he fucks you through your high, drowning you in his touch that masterfully blends pain and pleasure.

He almost comes instantly when he sees and feels you fall apart so completely, your blissed out expression the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

As you start to come down and all sensations begin to blur into an elusive haze, you feel the edges of your vision start to blur and Nathan’s groans seem distant and muffled. On the precipice of your consciousness, in your delirium, you feel the gentle touch of Nathan’s lips on your skin, you see him smiling at you, you hear him whisper in your ear that he lo–

A sharp slap to your cheek wakes you up and has you turning your head to cough and gasp for air. After a few seconds of trying to catch your breath, your chest heaving, your head spinning, you notice that Nathan’s still moving, his hips slamming against the back of your thighs with a relentless ferocity that borders on primal.

“You don’t get to pass out on me, baby,” you hear him chuckle. “I want you to feel it when I fill you up.”

He can feel it building and building, winding tighter and tighter, his cock swelling and twitching inside your cunt. He pants and moans your name, telling you what a perfect little whore you are, how fucking good you feel, how much he enjoys hurting you.

“Holy shit, that’s it. Fuck. Fuck.”

He explodes deep inside you, cum painting your walls, still thrusting as he twitches and pulses, making sure your pussy swallows every last drop. He sits up, panting heavily, sweat running down his temples as he looks down at where your bodies are connected. He slowly pulls out of you with a strangled groan, watches with satisfaction how his cum leaks out of your swollen pussy, and at last lets his spent body collapse on the ground next to you.

“Fucking unreal,” he sighs deeply, covering his face with his hands for a moment before wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. He takes a few seconds to catch his breath and to wait for enough blood to flow back to his brain, then turns his head to look at you.

You’re lying on your side, turned away from him, your knees pulled up to your chest in the fetal position. Nathan’s eyes are immediately drawn to the burns on your wrists, the scratches covering your arms and ass, and the blood he can see on your shirt’s collar.

Seeing you in this state has his cock twitching on his belly.

He did this to you. He beat you, overpowered you, took you, fucking destroyed you. You were so sure of yourself before, and now look at yourself. Pathetic.

What hurts more, little bunny? Your body or your mind?

Your pitiful sobs cut through the still of the night, interrupting Nathan’s thoughts.

“Shit.” He snaps out of it and immediately sits up, haphazardly stuffing his cock back inside his pants before opening his backpack to get out the shears he packed. He grabs them, then kneels behind you.

“I’m gonna cut your ties, okay? Don’t move.”

You give no indication that you can hear him, but you don’t move your hands as he cuts the ties around your sore wrists. You lie still, limp, even now that your hands are free again.

Concerned with your body temperature, Nathan quickly reaches for his backpack again to get out a woolen blanket. He drapes it over you, shielding your exposed body from the cold wind blowing around you.

He tries to turn you around, so he can look at you and talk to you, but you start thrashing about and crying violently when he puts pressure on your arm.

“Hey, hey, shhh, it’s over,” he says calmly but firmly, pulling you up into his lap with your back against his chest despite your protests. His strong arms hold you close, the blanket tightly wrapped around you. “Shhh, it’s over, you’re safe.”

He can feel you stop resisting and your muscles relaxing in his arms after a minute or so, your head falling back against his shoulder, your breathing getting calmer.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” he murmurs into the crown of your head, rocking you gently.

After a short while of sitting in silence, he decides it’s best you two get going, so he can clean you up and take care of your wounds. But first, he wants you to drink from the tea he brought, to warm you up and rehydrate you.

With a careful maneuver, he reaches into his backpack while keeping a supportive hold on you, retrieving the thermos that left a lasting impression on his back. He takes a sip to make sure it’s not too hot before encouraging you to do the same. He smiles to himself when you don’t bother asking what’s in it this time, too exhausted to care, apparently.

You feel the soothing warmth trickling down your sore throat, warming you from the inside. A gentle cough escapes your lips, a testament to the wear and tear your body has endured. When Nathan’s satisfied with your intake, he stows the thermos and helps you stand up. He pulls up your panties and pants without any protest from you, then picks up his backpack.

“Here,” he murmurs, wrapping the blanket tightly around you, so it stays put without you having to hold it. He then hands you a blue cool pack for your swollen cheek and lip and guides your hand to the affected area. You wince and groan when the pack makes contact with your tender skin.

“Keep pressure on it, okay?”

You nod and press a bit harder, the throbbing pain prompting a new set of tears to well up in your eyes, silently expressing both pain and relief.

“Can you walk?”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him. “Mhm.”

“It’s not far,” he murmurs, prompting you to walk in front of him. The flashlight he brought illuminates the path, but exhaustion causes you to stumble a few times. When Nathan has to catch you for the fifth time, he realizes this isn’t going to work and finally opts to rearrange the blanket, so he can guide you with a supportive hand under your armpit.

You’re not really here, so you don’t notice that he’s leading you down a different path than the one you came from.

The cold night air is filled with unspoken truths as you walk in silence, the sound of gravel and leaves crushed beneath your feet echoing the muted conversation you’re not ready to have.

Your body is beginning to hurt more and more with every step you take, as you can feel the adrenaline slowly leaving your body. The fog in your mind begins to clear at the same time, revealing a storm of conflicting emotions you’re utterly unprepared for.

Nathan’s just fulfilled a fantasy you’ve had forever but could never find the right partner for, either due to lack of sexual compatibility or lack of trust. And despite having you climbing the walls with frustration many times over the past few months, you trust Nathan and know he would never seriously harm you.

Not physically at least.

So, why are you pouting right now? He gave you what you wanted, didn’t he? This was your idea and you wanted it so badly.

Is it because you didn’t think it would feel so real? That it wouldn’t hurt so much? Hmm, that’s not it, is it? No, no. What you’re feeling is shame. You’re ashamed. Ashamed at how much you loved it. How much you loved the thrill of the hunt and the pain of being beaten and used.

What kind of fucked up person would enjoy something like this? What is wrong with you?

– – –

“I had it built over the past week,” Nathan murmurs as he’s opening a new pack of sterile wipes. “Pretty great, huh? I designed every room myself, feng shui included.” You dig your fingernails into your palm and suck in a sharp breath when the alcohol makes contact with the bite mark on your shoulder.

You’ve been in Nathan’s new cabin for half an hour now, and he’s been trying his best to make you feel comfortable—turning up the heat, helping you take off your dirty shirt and jeans, preparing a cup of tea for you while you were on the toilet, giving you pain meds a non-billionaire could only dream of getting their hands on, and carefully disinfecting your wounds in the bathroom. He’s even refrained from misquoting Oppenheimer or exclusively talking about himself.

He is trying.

You, however, have remained unresponsive, eyes vacant, lost in the echoes of your scene. Vivid memories pulse through your veins, and when Nathan notices the subtle tremors wracking your body, a flicker of concern shadows his eyes.

“Looks good,” he goes on as he’s done cleaning the mark his canines left on you. “It’s not as deep as I thought. Still looks like it hurts though.”

He can’t help but smile at the sight, the evidence of what he did to you. Beautiful. He puts the wipes down onto the wooden bench you’re sitting on and studies your profile. Silent tears are slowly rolling down your swollen cheeks, your bruised neck, over your breasts, pooling in your bra. Your lip is quivering.

You hear him say your name. “Can you please look at me?”

When you don’t react, he says your name a little louder, his patience waning as he grapples with his own sense of helplessness.

He’s not used to feeling this way—unable to fully understand or solve a problem that’s presenting itself. He’s a genius for God’s sake. Concern turns to frustration, his eyes mirroring the helplessness he’s experiencing—an unusual and uncomfortable sensation for someone accustomed to being in control.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head. But your silence persists, and his frustration peaks. With a sudden resolve, he reaches for your chin, intending to force you to look at him. As soon as his fingers make contact with your skin, you slap his hand away.

“Don’t touch me!” you hiss at him with such venom in your voice that he’s momentarily stunned. Your eyes meet his for the first time since you left the woods, bloodshot and watery, pupils dilated.

The sudden break in the stagnant atmosphere startles both of you and you immediately regret what you did when you see the look on Nathan’s face. Your palms are clammy, the bathroom suddenly feels far too hot, and every scratch on your body burns and pulses in time with your racing heartbeat.

“I–I’m so sorry,” you stutter, your eyes wide, your trembling hand reaching for his arm.

“It’s okay,” he says calmly, studying your face with a furrowed brow. “Are you in pain? Is that it?”

“No—well, yeah. Of course I am, what the hell do you think?” A small smile tugs at Nathan’s lips, amused with your answer. “But, uh, that’s not it.” You avert your gaze and absentmindedly rub your right thumb over your left thumb in your lap.

“Was it too much? Did I do some–”

“No.” You vehemently shake your head and look into his eyes. “It was perfect, Nathan. I liked it, really.”

He can see in your eyes that you’re telling the truth, but that just confuses him more.

“It’s just,” you go on, shifting uncomfortably on the bench. “What’s wrong with me?”

A lightbulb flickers to life above Nathan’s head, and suddenly, it’s crystal clear what your pleading eyes are trying to say.

“Why do you think anything’s wrong with you? You just said you liked what we did.”

“But why?” you blurt out. “Other people don’t ask their boss to chase them through the woods. They’re not perpetually bruised. And they wouldn’t get off on half the shit you do to me.” Your voice is agitated now, your hands wildly gesticulating between the two of you.

Nathan can see how distressed you are, but he genuinely doesn’t understand why. This isn’t like you. He sighs and puts his hand on your naked thigh. You let him.

“Pain, humiliation, submitting to me,” he says softly, his eyes locked onto yours. “That’s your thing, okay? Now, why is that your thing? Because you did a detailed analysis of all kinks and you cross-referenced that analysis with a points-based system? No. You’re just into pain and humiliation. You like submitting to me. It’s how you were programmed. Nature and nurture, baby.”

You hear the words he says, but your tired brain and your aching body make it so you’re not really processing them. His logic isn’t what you need right now.

“But…don’t you think that’s weird?” you murmur, your eyes filling with tears again.

Nathan sighs deeply, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “This is your insecurity talking, this is not your intellect,” he says sternly. “You’re better than that.”

He gets up with a suppressed groan, clutching his abdomen, and holds out his hand for you to join him.

As soon as you’re standing, he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. Your lips still sting, but you don’t mind. Nathan’s lips, his warm body against yours, and his hands roaming your naked back feel too good to care. You’re losing yourself in his touch again.

He directs you backwards toward the sink without breaking the kiss, pressing his growing erection against your core when your lower back hits the sink. His tongue swirls around yours, his low hums vibrating against your lips as his hands find your hips.

Breaking the kiss, out of breath, he turns you around, so you’re in front of the mirror.

“Look at yourself,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, his lidded eyes watching you. He slowly traces your skin with his fingertips, appreciating the marks on your body. A shiver runs down your spine and you moan softly at his tantalizing touch.

“I did this. I did this to you.” Nathan kisses your neck with his warm, soft lips, his beard tickling you. You close your eyes and hum at the feeling, resting your hands on the sink.

“And you took it so well, baby,” he murmurs against your skin between kisses, his hard cock pressing against your ass. “You earned every single bruise. You’re such a good little whore.”

His right hand moves down your belly, down between your thighs, cupping your mound over your panties. Gently but firmly. He keeps kissing up and down your neck, his warm breath and soft groans making you wet. You let your head fall back against him, wrapping your hands around his neck, and rocking your hips against his hand.

“Nathan…don–” you murmur, but he cuts you off.

“Shh,” he purrs against your neck, sliding his hand inside your panties and finding your clit with his fingers.

“Look at yourself.”

You reluctantly open your eyes. His gaze meets yours in the reflection, your brows drawn together, your lips slightly parted. You still wince at the sight of your swollen face, the mark on your shoulder and the bruises and scratches you can see. But all of your thoughts are quickly washed away when Nathan’s fingers start rubbing your clit, his dark eyes never leaving you.

“That’s it, baby. Look at what I did to you. Look at how much I hurt you.”

Speeding up the movement of his fingers, he can feel your legs starting to tremble as your orgasm approaches rapidly. He wraps his left hand around your front, his hand splayed over your tense belly, holding you against his chest.

Sweet release. You can already taste it.

Your moans are becoming louder and louder, and right when you’re about to tip over the edge, Nathan roughly grabs your throat and simultaneously pushes three fingers into your pussy, pumping them in and out of you hard and fast. Your eyes widen in shock and your hands instinctively grab at his, trying to get him to loosen his grip, but he’s undeterred.

He knows you’re sore, so he’s not going to fuck you with his cock. But you need this.

“There is nothing wrong with you or with what you want,” he growls into your ear, his eyes boring into you as he feels you coming around his fingers with a desperate moan.

You ride out your high on his hand until your knees buckle and your limp body collapses against his, your walls rhythmically pulsing around him. Holding you upright, Nathan presses a soft kiss to the mark on your shoulder and nuzzles the crook of your neck with his nose.

“You’re such a fucking good girl,” he murmurs as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you.

“Now, how about a bath?”

– – –

Lying in the softest bed you’ve ever laid in, feeling the comforting embrace of the satin sheets around your body, and thanks to the pain meds working their magic, you find yourself in heaven. Floating on a fluffy cloud. Mind empty. Content.

“Feeling any better?” you hear Nathan’s voice behind you before the bed dips under his weight as he joins you.

“Mhm. Great meds,” you murmur into your pillow.

“Yeah, right? I feel like I’m floating.”

“Huh?” You turn around to look at him, his face illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the trees and the wall-to-ceiling window opposite the bed. “What the fuck, Nathan? You can’t mix those with alcohol.”

“No worries. My liver’s been training for this.”

You scoff. He’s unbelievable. “Why did you take them anyway? It’s not like you got hurt.”

“The big, purple bruise on my abdomen begs to differ,” he chuckles. “You got me pretty good.”

You can’t hold back a little laugh. “You’re a baby.”

“And you get a little too bold when you’re high. I’d watch it if I were you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmur, your eyelids beginning to droop.

Nathan smirks and shakes his head at you. “Hey,” he lightly taps your shoulder, “wanna see something cool? Check this out.”

He flips a switch on the wall next to the bed, and suddenly, the roof smoothly retracts, unveiling the vast expanse of the starlit sky.

It’s breathtaking.

“Pretty amazing, huh?”

“It is,” you whisper as your thoughts float away like dandelion seeds carried by a gentle breeze, dancing into the realm of dreams. “Thank you.”

The quiet in the bedroom stretches for a few minutes as the soothing embrace of sleep begins to claim you. Suddenly, Nathan breaks the silence with a soft murmur.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Hm?”

He sighs. “About your masochism. You never told me.”

“Hmm. I don’t always. Only sometimes.” You turn onto your side, your face buried in the pillow. A content sigh escapes your lips. “Can’t help it.”

“Don’t keep stuff like that from me. Tell me next time.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m serious, it’s–” He stops when he hears your rhythmic breathing. He leans over you and looks at your face. You’re sleeping. You look peaceful.

Nathan rolls onto his back and stares at the stars overhead for a few minutes, contemplating the universe and his role in it until your breathing lulls him to sleep.

– – –

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hornyjorny · 1 year ago

Text

𝙞 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙚

river ward x fem! v

warnings- fluff with smut??? mostly gross fluff18+, this is seriously nasty lovey dovey shit, soft sex, v is tired, sad as fuck and injured, v and river are disgustingly in love, johnny cameo bc he's annoying as fuck, gentle dom!river, sub!v, slight angst but mostly fluff, creampie+fingering+oral (f receiving)

wc: 5.1k

It’s been a shitty day.

Your body aches. Aches from the constant misfiring of your brain. Your head feels like it's on fire, each thought a searing ember tearing through your consciousness. You’re bloodied, battered, bruised and exhausted— but shit, at least you’re almost home— and River’s there waiting for you.

Tonight was supposed to be a respite from the chaos, a date night with River that you had been looking forward to for days. But as the hours stretched on and the assignments piled up, it seemed like time had betrayed you. You don’t even remember the last time you’ve taken a break.

Your eyes blur as you step into the elevator— your legs begin to wobble. Your head hurts— and you feel like you can barely fucking stand. Your eyes flutter shut as you step through the doors, immediately slouching against the wall to soothe your aching muscles before your eyes flutter shut.

Your condition was worsening.

Johnny's presence in your mind is no longer just an annoyance—it's agony. He's there, unable to do anything but watch himself wreak havoc upon your brain.

All you ever wanted was to make it big.

Friends you’d laughed and fought alongside with are now fucking gone, swallowed by the unforgiving streets of Night City. Your job as a mercenary isn’t much better- it ensures that danger’s your constant companion, a perilous dance where survival was the one and only goal at the end of the day. And now, you found yourself entangled in Arasaka's web, tethered to the engram of the long-gone Johnny Silverhand—a construct that was slowly eroding your very existence from within.

But amidst that darkness, there was River Ward.

River's presence at your side was the one solid, the one steady anchor amidst the turmoil of the world. His arrival in your life was a bittersweet revelation, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there’d always be that little glimmer of light. He was a constant amidst the chaos, a steadfast presence that anchored you in a sea of uncertainty. His kindness, his unwavering support, had chipped away at the walls you've built around yourself.

With River, you had found something you couldn't, and wouldn't, let go of. But the weight of your own impending demise pressed heavily on your chest, a reminder that time was slipping through your fingers like sand. Everything you’d ever known was slipping away, slowly but surely.

Your thoughts are pushed aside as the metal elevator doors open with a ‘ding!’

“Time to snap out of it, sweetheart. Cop’s waiting for ya.”

You hadn’t even noticed Johnny until now. Your eyes flutter open— and for just a moment, you’re grateful for your digital companion’s presence. You step through the looming metal doors, your mind buzzing, your tired legs beginning to tremble as you attempt to navigate yourself to your apartment. You’re fucking determined to make it home to River, even as your muscles scream and ache in protest.

Finally, you reach your apartment. Your heart pounds in your chest as you unlock the pneumatic door with a shaky swipe of your thumb.

“V?”

Sheer relief floods over your senses at his voice alone. Before you know it, you’re met with the warmth of River's presence in front of you— worried gaze bearing into yours, before his eyes slide down to examine the rest of your bloody, weak body.

“Hey," he said softly, his voice a gentle caress that swept over your tired senses. The soft white glow of his mechanical gaze captured every nuance of your exhaustion. But beyond that, he saw the pain you carried, the knowledge of your own impending demise that weighed heavily on your shoulders.

A shaky smile forms on your lips. The sight of him, his unwavering presence, was a balm to your aching soul. Fuck, you were just glad to be able to come home to him. But then your weakened trembling legs finally gave way beneath you, the exhaustion hitting you like a tidal wave. As you began to sink, River's strong arms were there to catch you, his touch steady and reassuring.

“You know..” He holds you up with a tenderness that spoke volumes, his hands gentle as they brushed against your weary frame. His eyes met yours, concern and love intermingled in their depths. "..I would’ve picked you up, V.”

You let out a shaky breath, your facade cracking as the weight of the day and the pain you were in threatened to overwhelm you, tears burning at the corners of your tired eyes.

“You don’t have to deal with this all alone.”

That was the catalyst for you.

River wasn't the type of person you were used to. This time, you had found someone who really fucking cared. The love you felt for him was real—a force that pushed you forward even when everything else seemed to be falling apart and crumbling around you.

"I know," you admitted, your voice a soft admission of vulnerability. "But I just... I really wanted to see you."

His embrace tightened, and you felt as if he could shield you from the world with his arms alone. Tears finally spill from your burning eyes, falling down your bloody cheeks as you let out a choked sob. You didn’t want to have to lean on him. Didn’t want him to see you like this. All you wanted, all you’ve been looking forward to all week, was a night alone with River.

“Oh, V..” He sighs, reaching up to your face with his ganic’ hand to wipe away the tears that dampened your cheeks, metal hand holding your waist in place. His touch was so soothing and warm that chased away the pain, if only for a moment. “What am I gonna do with you?”

You took a shaky breath, emotions slowly ebbing as you meet his gaze. “I don’t know, River..”

Your voice was a whisper, fragile and raw, as you admitted what you needed most. What you craved. You wanted him— needed him.

“But I need you, I know that.”

As if sensing your need, River's huge arms envelop you, pulling you into a hug that's both comforting and electrifying. His heartbeat is a steady rhythm against your ear, and you cling to him as if he's your lifeline in a sea of uncertainty.

A little weakened whimper escapes your throat as he wraps his big arms around you again. “I just… I need you to love me.”

His response was immediate, his fingers intertwining with your hair as he held you close. "I do love you, V. More than you know. I don't need you to be perfect, V," he murmurs against your hair, his breath a warm whisper that ignites a fire within your bones. "I just need you."

Your lips press against his, and in his arms, you finally feel ready to let go, surrendering to the vulnerability you’ve avoided for so long. The weight of the world, of the engram's presence in her mind, of the looming threat of your very own mortality, becomes a burden you two share together. River's love is a lifeline, grounding you in the midst of your shitshow of an internal storm.

“Need you to show how much you love me,” you whisper.

In that moment, vulnerability meets strength, and River's eyes hold a depth of understanding that surpasses words. He smiles at you so sweetly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead that makes your heart swell. “Course, V. That’s all you need to say..” He whispers.

“But first, we gotta clean you up.”

★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★

River’s attempting to help you undress in the most gentle way possible as to not disturb your scratches and bruises. His deft fingers work to shrug off your strapped jeans, and you’re able to shrug off your jacket and peel off your top with no problem. And for a second, he can’t help but to stare at you bloodied, broken skin, and his heart just fuckin’ breaks. Of course, it’s your job to do dangerous shit, you put your life on the line all the time, but it still fucked him up whenever you came home like this. It wouldn’t be the first time you have, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

He moves on to cleaning up your cuts as carefully as possible, doing his absolute best as to not cause additional discomfort.

The familiar burn of desire burned through you as his warm hands traced over your bare skin, taking great consideration in mending your wounds, even occasionally pressing his lips to your damp skin now and again. But you push it aside for now— you just want to enjoy his presence.

He helps your trembling body into the shower, and the warm water cascades over your bodies, soothing your sore muscles and washing away the remnants of the night's chaos. The soothing scent of lavender washes over you as his gentle hands cascade over your skin away from the wounds. Your cuts sting against the hot water, and your legs ache a little from having to stand, but you push the pain aside— you’re focused on River, and River only.

The quiet intimacy of the moment speaks volumes, the unspoken understanding that exists between you two a lifeline you never expected to find.

His big hands trace over your skin, and every little touch is gentle, reassuring as he washes away the blood and grime, calloused fingertips brushing against your lower stomach and setting your mind aflame with burning desire. His touch is soothing, tender— and it sends little shockwaves of heated desire through your core.

You lean into his chest, a little whimper escaping your lips as his metal fingertips trail down your sides finding comfort in his embrace despite the pain that courses through your body. It's the one fucking moment you’ve been waiting for all week—and you cherish it with your entire heart.

Both of River’s hands slide down to your waist. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before letting out a soft murmur against your wet skin.

“Still need me to show you how much I love you, or do you wanna settle down?”

You’ve wanted him, needed him, for so long now, you just can’t hold back any longer. You need him— and you need him now. “No,” you rasp. “Want you.”

His hands slide torturously slow up past your waist, torso, and up to your chest. With a little hum, his big hands move up to cup your breasts before sliding his rough fingers against your nipples before stopping abruptly. “Y’sure?”

You nod enthusiastically, a raspy and desperate “please” escaping from your tired lips.

“I’ll be gentle tonight. Promise,” River mumbles in your ear.

At this point, you need him. In River’s arms, the world seems to still— and you can only focus on him— the way he lets out soft groans whenever you accidentally grind against him from his consistent teasing, the way he towers over your much shorter frame, literally holding you up with his strong arms alone…

“Well shit, at least you can die happy now.”

You swear you need to get this motherfucker out of your head as soon as possible. You’re too tired to fight Johnny right now. You don’t even open your eyes at this point— River’s making you feel too good enough for you to care.

His hands move down your chest, tracing away every little cut and scrape as his hands glide against your lower body, carefully observing the way you whimper and shudder underneath his careful touch. Metal fingers dig into your ass as his other hand trails between your plush thighs, spreading them apart as his finger carefully slides between your soaked folds.

You don’t know why every single one of his touches send electric shocks to your core. A high-pitched whine escapes your lips, and you don’t even notice the way your legs shake violently underneath you— you just feel too good.

You do, however, notice when he pulls away— left arm wrapping around your waist to give your weak legs some rest as his other hand reaches over to shut the shower off. A little whimper escapes your tired lips, and his metal fingers tap against your cheek. “Let’s get you comfortable first, ‘kay? Don’t want you to fall.”

When you two step out of the shower, your body feels tired yet renewed, the pain momentarily eased by the care he's shown. River wraps your trembling body in a warm towel, his embrace a promise that transcends the challenges you two face together. You allow him to scoop you up into his big arms, and it’s almost laughable how vulnerable you really feel. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t cherish it.

River's arms remained steadfast around you as he lifted you gently, cradling you like a fragile treasure. Your head rested against his chest, your body bone-weary and battered, but in his arms, you found a sanctuary. He carried you to the bed, each step a reassurance that he was here, that you weren't alone in this struggle.

Gently, he lowered you onto the bed, onto the soft pillows below, his touch tender as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. The dim light cast soft shadows across the room, the neon glow from the city outside seeping through the windows. The world beyond may have been chaotic, but here, in this moment, it was just you and River. Not even Johnny dared to fuck with you right now.

A soft hum escapes his lips, leaning down to cup your cheeks with both of his hands. His steel fingertips dance across your cheek as your lips crash into his, before he pulls away from you. His hands trail down the sides of your body, carefully making sure to avoid any cuts or bruises, oh-so-gently.

He smiles when a shiver wrecks throughout your body, before he sinks down to your damp thighs, shut tightly as he looms over you.

“Open up for me?” He taps his mechanical hand against you, and with a shaky breath, you open your legs— exposing yourself to the cool night air.

“Pretty girl..” River whispers, spreading your soaked folds apart with a smug grin, before licking a firm stripe up to your clit. He presses his tongue up against it, and laughs when his lil merc gets flustered at the vulgar sight. He looks up at you again— the soft glow of his metal eye bearing into yours, and fuck, he’s so cute, smiling like a dumbass as he devours you whole.

His gaze leaves yours as his gaze trails over your tired body, admiring every little scar, every little bruise, and every little freckle. He can’t help it— he just fucking loves every little bit of you.

River loves the way you tremble underneath the soft touch of his cold metal hands— cherishes the way you look up at him with your cheeks flushed red.. hair messy and your makeup all smudged, hands fighting for purchase against the sheets as your chest heaves, and you let out tiny whimpers..

River loves how he’s the one you seek solace from— how you allow him to help you relax after a long, shitty day, allowing him to spread your pretty thighs for him.

Internally, River is so grateful for your presence— so fucking grateful that you’ve stayed by his side, aiding him and his family. But beyond that, he loves you for you. Loves you for that stupid goofy side of yours— he genuinely enjoys your presence.

River loves his lil’ mischievous, dangerous mercenary. He loves the person underneath that rough n’ tough exterior you hold yourself to.

He doesn’t even know where he’d fucking be without you. He doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if he never met you. Never would’ve had a chance at saving his nephew— wouldn’t have a chance to experience those sweet summer nights laying in the back of his truck, miles away from the City just to admire the stars… never would’ve had the chance to spend countless nights just enjoying one another’s presence— and loving one another like it was your last fuckin’ day on earth.

Except the last part rings far too true.

You’re his person— how can he deny it?

He sees your strength, the physical and mental scars from long ago, the pain, and the fire that burns within you like akin to the likes of nobody else. It fucking hurts him, so desperately so, to see you struggle like this. Fucking hurts to see the cursed cards life has given you.

So tonight, he’s determined to show you just how much he loves you.

He’s brought back to reality by your cute sniffles as he continued to toy with your aching cunt.

“F—Fuck, River…” An errant moan escapes your lips, back arching as your hands scramble for purchase on his big shoulders as his tongue fucks you dumb.

He looked so proud, so smug as his eyes fluttered half-shut, a dumb grin plastered across his face. He uses his metal hand to pin your thigh further apart— your leg beginning to shake adorably as he continues to lap at your drenched cunt.

He doesn’t miss a single spot—kissing up and down your plush thighs, then back to your dripping folds. Each time you would whine, he’d just make out with your throbbing clit before it turns to unfair sucking and slurping.

His nose brushes against your folds and it makes sweet little whimpers and cries of his name fall from your pretty lips.

When his tongue and jaw begin to ache, he gazes up at you with the entire bottom half of his face completely soaked. He rests his chin on your thighs for just a moment— a smug little grin plastered across face before he presses a single thick digit between your folds, before he looks up at you again.

“You sure you can handle this tonight, V?”

You gush a little at his words, and you nod back, the burning desire in your chest ready to burst at any fucking second. “Don’t wanna stop,” you whine.

River smiles again, his large finger slipping into you again. The sight alone of his finger pumping against your tight walls, the sight of him flicking his tongue against your desperate aching clit, was far too much for you to handle at once. Soft little shivers escape your lips as your body trembles, this time not out of hurt, but out of the sheer overwhelming pleasure River provides you.

He insets a second finger, stretching out your tiny hole. He’s too much— and you love it. His tongue flicked against your throbbing clit before he closed his lips around the bud, all while his thick, long, rough fingers pump in and out of you.

The way your tight hole clenches around his thick fingers nearly sends him over the fucking edge. He’s painfully hard at this point, but by God, is he ever so determined to help his little merc cum after a hard day.

“Rivveeeeerrrr,” you hiccup, your hands coming down to attempt to grab and claw at his big wrists, but River just looks up with a smug grin on his face, his cock beginning to throb in his sweats again. “m’ close..” You whisper into the night air. But River just stares up at you to watch the way you unfold for him as your cunt trembles below his tongue.

“So soon, baby?”

You love it, but by fuck, it’s just too much for you. You’re literally ready to burst any-fucking second now. At this point, you’re so, so out of it. Purely just fucked dumb by River’s tongue and fingers alone— and you’d have it no other way. Your cunt’s starting to tremble and shake, and you can’t control the wetness dripping down your plush thighs. Your hips squirm and buck up against his face, desperately trying to ride out your high, and he only groans against your wetness in response. “L-Love youuuuuu….” You whine weakly. River responds back with a groan against you.

The burning knot inside of you finally unravels when he latches his lips onto your clit. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull, and the high-pitched whines and begs for more escaping your lips are damn-near unrecognizable. Your hands claw desperately at his big beefy shoulders, tears rolling down your flustered cheeks as you finally let go of your orgasm— and you gush into his mouth and soak the sheets below with cute whimpers and whines of “thank you’s” and “m’ sorry’s” as he spreads your shuddering legs further apart beneath you— still lapping at your soaked hole.

“Mmm… that’s my girl.”

His voice is raspy and low before you whine. River growls against you as you pant and shake beneath him as his tongue swipes against you to clean up your mess. You look down at yourself, at River— and fuck, you’re both soaked.

…And so are the sheets below.

You’re a shaking, whiny, wet mess when he pulls away, a string of your slick connecting to his lips as he places a sloppy kiss to your wet folds. Fuck. But you didn’t want him to stop. Sure, you’re sore as hell, but by God, you just wanted, you fucking needed more.

“Riveeerr…” you hiccup again.

His big hands drop your thighs onto the soft mattress below, and both of them come up to rest against your flushed cheeks, soft eyes bearing into yours, filled with a soft, genuine concern as you let out a desperate whimper.

“Need you to fuck me. Please.”

A little dumb smile forms on his face.

“I’ve gotcha.”

He positions himself between your soaked thighs, lining his fat tip against your puffy and swollen folds, metal hand sliding down to guide his throbbing cock into your tight soaked hole.

His cockhead nudges your clit accidentally, and you moan before staring deeply and intensely at each other for just a brief moment— eyes filled with nothing but pure adoration for one another.

River pushes the rest of himself inside, and he almost knocks the fucking wind out of you as your hole attempts to take the stretch. After nearly two weeks, you forgot how fucking big he was, and you can barely form a coherent thought as he drags his hips so deliciously against yours as he softly reassures you.

“Fuck, V— always takin me so well,” River sighed softly while balls deep inside, internally noting your heavy breathing and shaky legs as you struggled to take him. It’s been a little while.

A squeal falls from your parted lips as he splits you in two so softly, hands moving to wrap around your ankles as he slowly thrusts his hips into yours. His eyes are focused on the way your tight cunt takes him soo nicely. Your little whimpers and sobs for more cause him to bite into his lip— you’re so fucking cute like this, and he’s so fucking lucky to have you. He loves to fuck his little mercenay nice and thorough, just wanting to treat you good after a tough day at work.

He almost loses his composure when little begs of “harder, please!” escape your lips. Truthfully, he’d love nothing more than to pound you senseless into the mattress, but shit, he doesn’t wanna hurt you tonight. Your body was already sore enough. Even he knew that.

“Can’t, V. Don’t wanna hurt you,” River’s voice rasps against your ear in response to your begs.

A little disappointed whimper falls from your lips, and you wrap your weak arms around the back of his neck.

“I know, I know..” River bows forward, almost mounting you entirely, and this slight movement pushes his cock further in. You whine, wiggling your hips against his slow thrusts to chase the fleeting pleasure that stemmed from his movement. Internally, you’re so so grateful for him. He looks so fucking cute, you swear it— your heart flutters at the sight of him, attempting to move as gently as possible but absolutely struggling to do so, the occasional whimper escaping his lips.. fuck, it kills you.

You’re so fucking grateful for the way he makes you feel. The way he distracts you from your pain with soft licks and gentle thrusts is just entirely unmatched, and so is the way he loves you oh-so-gently. The sheer amount of pleasure he’s providing you with is insane, and your eyes can’t help but to flutter shut as shockwave of euphoria shoot through your entire body every time he slowly bottoms out within you. You love River Ward, and you couldn’t have it any other way.

River’s thrusts refuse to relent, even as your tight cunt squeezes around him. He huffs, feeling fully endeared. You look utterly fucked dumb— your hair’s all messy and splayed out on the pillows below you, your eyes are shut tight, nothing but little whimpers escaping your lips. River just wants to make sure you’re okay before he starts to move again.

“Hey,” he whispers down at you as he pats your cheek gently. “Anyone home, V?”

“Uh huh,” you mumble, fucked-out eyes slowly zoning back in on your boyfriend.

River smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “There's my girl.”

Then, he straightens back up again, his hands returning to their purchase on your ankles. You keen to the ceiling when he drags his cock out slowly, and you unconsciously squeeze your thighs around him before he gently separates your legs again.

River’s eyes are confused and glazed over as he pushes himself into you again. He allows you to latch onto him— he swears you’re so fucking cute when you whimper into his neck, sharp nails clawing at his back.. It’s just fucking addicting. He’s too focused on the way your cunt takes him in so well— your cries and tears of pure bliss causing him to bite his lip back in a groan.

River’s buried deep inside when you begin to clench around him, and he’s shoved deep inside of you when you feel your second orgasm approaching, and you let out little cries of “I’m’ close again!” and he’s staring down at you as your hips attempt to crash against his, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull— tears streaming down your cheeks. You could barely breathe. Your breaths are shaky and weak against the cool apartment air, and you’re just so so fucking needy— you can only focus on him.

You lean up as best as you can to hide your face in the crook of his neck and he lowky moans— his hands moving to guide your hips.

“C’mon, baby. Let it out for me.”

Your lips fall ajar at his command, feeling how his cock massaged your walls oh-so tenderly before your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you gushed again. You relish the whimper that escapes his lips as you cum again, but he refused torelent, the sound of your cunt squelching filling the room as he continues to fuck himself into you. The pressure inside of you finally snaps— and you let a loud high-pitched cry escape your lips as your back arches against the mattress. His rough hands move down to dig into waist before your little bucks begin to slow—gushing still all over him dumbly.

His thrusts finally begin to falter, his eyes fluttering, the soft mechanical one flickering a little bit as he bites into his bottom lip to keep himself from whimpering. Fuck, you’re just so good— he can’t help the needy noises that escape his throat. He swallows back a whimper— and a low “m’ gonna cum” falls from his lips.

“Please,” you whimper weakly against him— cunt clenching again as he continues to fuck you. “Need you, Riv…”

Your words were the catalyst for him. With one more harsh thrust, he pushes himself into you, allowing himself to deep inside. River’s large body trembles as he cums, euphoria washing over him as both eyes flicker shut. You’re both fucking exhausted, and you two stay still— chasing the remnants of your long awaited euphoria.

The world around you seems like it’s stilled— it’s been replaced by a sense of calm that settled over you like a soft embrace. River's steady breathing beside you was a soothing rhythm, a lullaby that lulled you into a peaceful state of mind.

“Thank you..” you weakly mumble as he pulls out, his seed spilling from your weak hole, slipping down your thighs.

He flops onto his side as you flop back against the pillows, pulling your trembling and sore into his big arms with ease as your eyes flutter shut and your chest heaves. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead— his hands reaching up to sweep your hair away from your dampened skin.

“Let yourself get some rest.." he whispered, his voice a calming melody that enveloped you. "You’re safe with me tonight.”

Fuck.

His words cause tears to burn at the corners of your eyes, a testament to the weight that you had been carrying. Your walls had crumbled, the armor you had worn for so long had fallen away, and in this vulnerability, you felt a strange mix of relief and fear. River had always been there, a constant amidst the chaos, and now, as he held you in his arms, you allowed yourself to lean on him.

“I love you, V,” His metal fingertips brush against your cheek, wiping away remnants of stray tears. “You don’t need to be afraid to lean on me sometimes.”

A tremor ran through your body, a mixture of exhaustion and the emotions that had been pent up for far too long. You turned into his touch, your head finding the crook of his neck as you nuzzled against him. His scent, a comforting blend of familiarity and safety, enveloped you, and you allowed yourself to fully let go. “I know.”

“I love you too, Riv.”

And as his arms held you close, you allowed yourself to embrace the solace he offered, to find comfort in his embrace, and to let go of the burdens that had held you captive for so long. You allow yourself to drift off to sleep, nested in his embrace, allowing the world to dissipate around you. In the silence of the room, the distant hum of the city's chaos seemed to fade away. It was just you and River, bound by something deeper than the turmoil that surrounded you.

#this fic is 100% purely self indulgent btw #river ward x reader #cyberpunk smut #river ward #cyberpunk 2077 fic #joce writes #river ward romance #v x river ward #river ward x v

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slowd1ving · 4 months ago

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Hello, I could request a Jaegyeon Na x Male!reader who is androgynous and brother of James lee please

NO STRINGS ATTACHED ・゜゜JAEGYEON NA

"I got so much to lose, so please don't ruin my mood." Unfortunately, taking your brother's motorcycle for a spin does mean you now have idiots and prospective debt collectors looking to make the man pay for whatever havoc he's wreaked, including pretty boy Jaegyeon Na, who perhaps is not the smartest when it comes to tailing someone. yo this is actually the first request I got on here so thanks nonnie :3 I hope whoever requested it actually likes this scenario (I only remember bits and pieces of the scenes he's in so it might be a bit OOC) also sorry anon if you wanted it in drabble/headcanon form honestly idk how I wrote it this quickly but same day delivery is crazy... it must've been the urge to wife this guy pairing: jaegyeon na x male reader warnings: some violence? male reader, lowkey crack since I can't take this man seriously, he's got a nice face though, do misunderstandings need a warning wc: 2.3k

LOOKISM MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

On all accounts, it should be a good day. Wind tousles your clothes as you speed the forgotten roads on your younger brother’s motorbike, while the sun’s never beat down brighter. To some, the arid weather cloys and sticks uncomfortably to their skin—but for you, this day is nothing more than bountiful beach weather. Even the last lollipop you stole from the stash in his kitchen seems more saccharine than usual; evidently, your mood isn’t the only thing that’s sweet on this wondrous day.

Or at least, it should be a good day—but it’s not, because some idiot’s been following you through Incheon in the ugliest car you’ve ever seen. It’s hideous: so much so that you’re troubled more by its primary-colour chromaticity than the fact that it’s been cruising past you as you wind your way through the quiet of Nambuk-dong. Seriously, which child lost their toy car because of this nitwit?

The cherry flavour grows distinctly more acerbic in your mouth as you make several turns experimentally—and yep, he’s still following you.

Question is, why?

Well, Jaegyeon Na’s seething behind the wheel as though the answer is horribly obvious. It’s only been a week since Mr. James Lee himself wrecked his new ride, a week since he was forced to take a taxi back to Incheon, and a week since he sobbed his pitiful heart out in his garage.

Mr. James Lee did not, in fact, pay for wrecking his car.

And Mr. James Lee probably never would, not unless the King of Incheon wanted to lose his hands to that monster. Perhaps his tongue, as well, for daring to ask for what he was owed in that freak’s presence.

No, he festers with barely-bridled fury. He’s not a wimp—which is precisely why he’s tailing after the sleek bike. It’s not often his informants actually have useful scraps to report to him. It’s also not often (read: never) that the freak’s licence plate is spotted in his home turf.

Naturally, Jaegyeon does the obvious: following the mysterious rider as he weaves through the streets like he actually knows this place. It strikes him as strange that James Lee knows where he’s going, but it seems the blond dye has seeped into his brain. Just a little, because common sense doesn’t seem so common for him anymore. For a moment, it seems like he’s making his way to the Incheon Airport, but then the route diverges onto the highway and he’s even more puzzled.

Where the hell is this bastard going?

What seems to be hours later (because he has been tailing you for about three hours) the motorcycle finally comes to a screeching halt.

Where?

At Wangsan Beach, because of course Mr. James fucking Lee came to sightsee after causing him immeasurable grief. In his own turf, too. He scrambles out of his car, fuming, as the man parks neatly on an isolated road just a minute or so away from the sand.

“You’re pretty angry for someone stalking me.” The voice resounding from the helmet sounds muffled and disembodied, which is perhaps why it doesn’t carry the same mocking cadence James Lee’s does. Or perhaps, it’s not James fucking Lee behind the helmet.

“Stalking you?” he sputters. His face is all twisted with rage, which is quite a shame since he’s so pretty. Like some foul-mouthed, wretched fairy, anyway. “You wrecked my car!”

“I did?” The confusion in the voice is so salient that Jaegyeon almost believes it. Almost, because everyone and anyone knows what a slippery, lying turd James Lee is.

“Yes, you fucking did,” he hisses. He nearly stamps his foot, but he settles for petulantly jabbing at your chest instead. Once more, there’s a slight discrepancy—this time in your build, for he could’ve sworn James Lee was the same height as him. But the helmet looks down upon him, and he’s blind with rage at how condescending James Lee is.

Maybe it’s your visor that’s clouding your own vision. You wipe the plastic with your sleeve obnoxiously—then peer at the car stalling only a couple of metres away. It looks… fine. Fine, if not egregiously, offensively repulsive.

“I would’ve remembered such an ugly fucking car if I’d wrecked it,” you grimace. I wouldn’t touch that thing with a ten-foot pole. “I think I would’ve been awarded a medal of honour for it too. Real brave to approach that.”

“You conniving, duplicitous bastard,” he grits his teeth, and he swears he can hear a molar crack in his pretty mouth. That’s it. “It wasn’t this car, but another one!”

And I didn’t touch it! But whoever did, did the world a service, you want to say—but the cretin looks catatonic with rage. Any further, and you think his poor face might spontaneously explode.

“You are a scammer,” you conclude, but perhaps that, too, was the wrong thing to say.

“How shameless can you get, you jackass?” he yells, practically trembling with his fury. Like those little blond dogs you see yapping, you fear he might lunge at you any minute now. “You know you trashed it! You laughed about it while you did so!"

“You’ve got the wrong guy!” you yell back.

“I’ll kill you today, James Lee.”

Woah—your eyes widen at both his words and how his body spins into motion. He’s fast; practically phasing out of sight like a spectre as his hands reach for the lapels of your leathers to grapple them. But unfortunately for him, he did announce his vengeance before he committed to the deed.

Thus, he, too, built his villainous end—cliché by cliché.

Well, it’s not really the end. That little warning gave you ample time to twist out of the way—using his momentum to spin his own body and pin him to the ground with freakish strength.

It also gave your eye ample time to twitch as the words hit home. Of course this was that snot-nosed brat’s fault—you almost felt bad for the blond beneath your heavy boot.

But then you look at the car again. It’s still hideous.

And just like that, you fully support that brat’s wrongs.

“Um.” With that, you step off his designer shirt, awkwardly brushing the footprint left behind. “I’m not James Lee.”

This exchange took such a short time—three seconds, in fact—that these words don’t register until the grappler has already locked himself around your legs and pushes you flat into the dusty street. Your helmet hits the asphalt with a sharp crack, and you wince as you almost bite your tongue instead of the lollipop stick. Actually, it was a wonder you hadn’t already bit your tongue.

But you digress.

This leaves you in a particularly awkward position. He’s wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, and as your words finally hit, he’s letting go in surprise—while you’re finally shucking off the helmet.

Sure, the candy in your mouth is the same, but he’s currently sitting between the legs of someone who decidedly is not James Lee.

“Who the fuck are you?” he blurts out, but his tongue feels especially dry as he stares up at your face.

“That’s what I’d like to ask of you,” you fume, and though your expression simmers red-hot with irritation, your tone is cold now that it’s not muffled by your helmet. He can feel his cheeks prickle under your glare. “Get off me, you dumbass.”

God, he’s never felt like such a fool—sheepishly, he scrambles off you, while you mutter something that sounds suspiciously like ‘look at this fucking idiot who doesn’t fucking check to see who the fuck he’s tailing this is how movie serial killers find their prey because fucking hell what a witless worm.’

“Uh,” he starts, and can’t bring himself to finish. He’s never felt so intimidated: practically cowering before you as you corner him against the wall you slammed him against earlier. Even with the syrupy scent of cherries from the candy in your mouth, there’s nothing about the man before him that’s friendly. Not even his pretty face—those eyes are only glaring daggers at him.

Of course, part of the intimidation is due to his anger dissipating instantly at his mistake. And the exhaustion of tailing the wrong person for upwards of three hours. And the embarrassment that, naturally, comes with tailing the wrong person in the first place.

“Do I look like someone who cleans up after whatever my younger brother gets himself into?” The question practically trembles with rage, punctuated by a harsh crack as you bite into the sweet. He knows better than to ask who the younger brother is; it’s not like his brain is that damaged from the bleach.

He swallows, then tentatively answers. “No?”

“That’s right,” you take a deep breath, as though you’re calming yourself back down—but he’s entranced by the way your hands massage your temples, soothing the tension headache he’s no doubt brought on. “That’s right.”

You don’t look like your younger brother, and he’s staring at the man in front of him, slightly enraptured.

“If my younger brother wrecked your ugly ass car, what does that have to do with me?” you seethe, and the illusion is shattered.

“It is not ugly,” he argues back for the first time, chasing after you as you dust your helmet off and head towards the beach. It’s why you came here in the first place—though, you groan mentally when you see that the sun’s about to dip cautiously past the horizon. Of course, the irritation couldn’t possibly be because of the idiot floundering after you.

“Don’t care what you think.” You bin the candy stick, much like you bin his opinion. “Your thoughts are rubbish.”

“Sorry, man—” and he’s still trailing you, just like some puppy now that all his bark’s gone. “—I really thought it was him.”

Irritably, you halt on the spot, and his nose collides right into your back. It’s almost comical how quickly you grab his stupid collar—how wide-eyed the arrogant blond gets, how flushed he becomes.

“I don’t care about your grudge with my brother.” You’re just about nose-to-nose with him, and his brain short-circuits. If it hasn’t already. God knows he doesn’t have the most brain power. “Quit following me, you moronic stalker.”

“Can’t I make it up to you?” he wheedles, trying to prolong your proximity for as long as possible.

“Yes,” you deadpan. “By learning from your mistakes and not stalking me.”

“Can I at least get your name?” he takes hold on the wrist currently wrangling him for dear life. “Since you’re so close and personal right now.”

“No,” you sneer, letting go in disgust. “Fucking pervert.”

This day was not a good day.

゜・

When you next see your brother, you hand his keys to him and vow to buy your own bike. James stares hard at you—the harrowed gaze you sport, the mild twitch in your eye, and finally, the noticeable dent in your helmet.

“What the fuck happened?” he utters finally, staving off any traces of laughter. Alas, judging by the look you shoot him, it seems he is not destined to be an actor.

Your jaw clenches.

“Fuck Incheon, man,” you mutter, dragging a scraped hand across your weary face. He does the maths. Incheon. Blond. Narcissistic king.

“James,” you intone. Seriously, this time, and all his predictions of what you’re about to say next shatter to dust. “Next time you see that stupid pretty-boy bastard, destroy whatever car he’s in.”

His brows raise, not just because he wants to grin, but also from a certain adjective nestled between the pejoratives.

“Stupid fucking prick with no brain, no shame and no future,” you seethe. Well, maybe he just imagined it, then.

゜・

Meanwhile, a certain blond leans against the hood of his car, absent-mindedly tracing patterns on the metal while he waits for his call to finally go through. True to his word, he did let you go—driving back morosely to his apartment while you continued down to the beach for the last shreds of the day.

But for some reason, his mind can’t let your face go. It’s out of irritation, he rationalises. That’s why he’s ringing Jichang Kwak for information, because Jaegyeon’s dubbed the King of Chungcheong the most intelligent (after himself, of course).

Is it because the man wears glasses?

Maybe.

Regardless of the status of Jichang’s intelligence, he knows his heart’s racing out of anger. His skin’s flushed due to rage. He’s twirling his hair because of the complex coils of revenge.

When he asks the king about James Lee’s brother, there’s a long-suffering silence on the other end of the line that makes him feel slightly foolish. Just very slightly.

“Do you have a fucking crush or a death wish?”

“Death wish?” he scoffs. “I could take him.”

It’s only then does he remember the former part of the question and his absence of a denial.

At the same time, Jichang processes the response given and keeps both his silence and his peace.

“And I don’t have a damn crush,” he adds, but it’s perhaps a heartbeat too late. For the King of Chungcheong, anyway—he doesn’t think the man’s noticed either his earlier double entendre, or how comedic he sounds.

“Uh-huh.” He’s a bit dumbfounded by this turn of events, hanging up almost reflexively. Indubitably, he might’ve replied monotonically, but there’s just something about being in proximity (even just audibly) to that cretin that has him losing his own brain cells.

For a few more moments, he stares contemplatively at his phone. Then, at last, he prays for the poor soul of James Lee’s brother—for there is something so deeply disturbing about being the recipient of that moron’s affections he can’t help but feel pity.

゜・

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twstbookclub · 11 months ago

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Unexpectedly Cute

Summary: You were grumbling about Grim and his absurd eating habits, when you found a small cactus in the courtyard. When you picked it up, you didn't think you'd see another side of Jack that day. He didn't expect to see another side of you, either. POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender-neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa🦋 Tags: Fluff, Romantic/Platonic, Tiny Cactus!!, Tsundere Jack Howl (that's putting it superficially), MC is a short and feisty firecracker in this Word Count: 1, 879 hi, i'm alive. i genuinely have a hard time writing jack, ngl. prompts for him were being switched around, and college is still kicking my ass. it's been months, really. although, i want to thank everyone who stuck around and waited for us to post fics again. i'm going to be busy again some time soon, but i hope i get to my drafts before i have to go back to the grind. again, thank you so much and i hope you enjoy reading 💕

Jack Howl has always been an enigma to you. He was an open book most of the time. His cheeks flushed whenever you pointed out his concern for others. His eyebrows pinched together every time you called him kind. He always averted his eyes and turned away from you whenever you smiled knowingly, as if you held his secrets in the palm of your hand.

Yet, he never talked much about himself. He always tagged along with your unusual, ragtag group of friends. Even if Ace and Deuce’s fights annoyed him sometimes, he still stayed. His ears twitched at every little noise. His tail wagged whenever he was happy, and it slowly swayed from side to side whenever he was content. You always noticed the little things about Jack, but he never breathed a word about his life outside of Night Raven College nor his personal preferences.

He was an open book, but the pages were inked with ciphers and riddles that hid all of his secrets.

“Why the hell…?” You trailed off with a raise of your brow. In your hands sat a small pot with a succulent in it. Its soil was a rich brown, surrounding a round and prickly cactus. Judging by the soil and the color of the cactus, it was well taken care of.

Your hand hovered over the thorns, but you pulled away with a shake of your head. As mesmerized as you were by the tiny and cute plant, you had your priorities.

For example, why the hell was a succulent—that was given this much love and care—lying on the courtyard?

You were on your way to Sam’s store for a quick restock of tuna cans for Grim (that tiny rascal got greedy and ate a month’s supply), when you found this little thing. It laid on its side on the grass near the stone pathway. The moment you held it in your hands, you couldn’t help but admire how adorable and pretty the cactus was.

“Now, what are you doing here?” You mumbled to yourself as you continued on your way to Sam’s store. “You look like you’ve been really loved by your owner, so how did you end up here?”

With how engrossed you were in admiring the little cactus, you failed to hear a choked noise and the abrupt halt of footsteps behind you. You continued to give the succulent all of your attention with gentle hands and more murmurs.

You were an enigma to Jack Howl. You rarely talked about yourself, yet you revealed so much of yourself. He remembered how a scowl always marred your face, specifically the times when someone annoyed you. He remembered the fire in your eyes when you gnashed your teeth at Leona’s insults. He remembered the curses that spilled from your lips, whether it was spite for the assholes in NRC or your everyday self-expression. There was never a day that you spoke without cursing like a sailor drunk on booze and the salty sea air.

Jack was reminded of a wildfire every time he saw you. You wreaked havoc everywhere you went. A single touch—maybe a glimpse—from you seared your presence into someone’s mind, like an ember swelling into an inferno among a sea of trees. Like a moth to a flame, he gravitated towards you despite that faint voice warning him in the back of his mind.

The Savanaclaw freshman watched you smile, a miniscule quirk of your lips. The hands that cradled his potted cactus were the same ones that punched a sophomore, who mocked you for your short height. The eyes that held so much contempt and rage were looking at that succulent with quiet admiration, as if you were looking at the stars rather than a single plant.

Just now, you reminded Jack of a pure, white dandelion whose seeds danced and twirled in the wind.

Before Jack realized it, he clapped a hand on your shoulder with a gruff, “Hey.”

You jumped, clutching the little cactus close to your chest with a loud, “Son of a b—Jack!” One of the wolf beastman’s ears twitched, catching a hint of relief and exasperation in your voice. His eyes never missed the way you pulled the plant close to you, as if it was a child that should be protected. The soft admiration in your gaze was replaced with harsh and guarded eyes, the usual. Jack noticed how much he paid attention to you, and he became a bit embarrassed at the thought.

“That’s, uh, mine,” he stammered. Your eyes were drawn to the light flush on his cheeks. His gaze averted to the side, and he raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. Subtly, you glanced at Jack’s tail.

It was wagging from side to side, for some reason.

Looking back at the taller beastman, you drawled, “I didn’t know you have a green thumb, Jack. Maybe I should ask you to help me with gathering ingredients for Professor Crewel next time.”

The embarrassed blush grew worse, darkening his cheeks. The sharp edges in his eyes returned with a glower. You couldn’t help the grin that stretched across your face when you heard Jack growl.

“... Don’t push it, Prefect. It’s not like I’d help you out every time you call me.”

Yet, he always did.

You shrugged and laughed with a playful nudge to Jack’s side. Careful hands returned the succulent to him as you chirped, “You say that, but you always come running whenever I do. Just admit it, Jack.”

He shot you an unimpressed look, and you laughed as he took the tiny pot from you. Jack’s ears twitched again. His eyes drank in the way your smile lit your face; how your irises hid behind the chub of your cheeks. For someone who’d pounce at anyone with murderous intent in that petite body, he didn’t think he’d see you smile like that.

Jack’s tail wagged behind him, fast enough to fan cool air to anyone who stood behind him. You silently mused about how it could sweep the dirt off the ground if it wagged any faster.

“It’s not like you to lose something,” you pointed out with that grin still on your face.

Jack clutched the pot with a stutter and a furrow of his brows. You nearly laughed at his embarrassment, and you couldn’t help but muse to yourself.

Jack can actually be cute like this. He’s even being gentle with the pot. Cute.

“I-I was taking the cactus out for some sun,” Jack began with a frown as the blush was fading from his cheeks, “when Ruggie found me and told me that Leona needed me for something. The next thing I knew, it's in your hands.”

“The little guy took a tumble, then,” you concluded with a look at the cactus in Jack’s hands. “It was on the ground when I found it. Where did you leave it earlier?”

“On that bench.” Jack nudged his head towards one of the benches in the courtyard. A patch of sunlight shone over one of its edges, while the shadow of the tree stretched across the grass.

Jack watched you stare at the bench with a hum. With your attention occupied like this, he observed you without warranting unwanted embarrassment.

You bit your lip, pulling the bottom into your mouth. A million thoughts seemed to run through your mind behind that gaze of yours. A faint breeze rustled your hair and tickled your skin—and Jack couldn’t look away, for some reason.

Your eyes darted towards Jack, and he nearly flinched from getting caught staring at you. Although, you didn’t seem to think of it that way.

“I tried to scoop back some of the soil that fell out,” you told him with a lopsided smile. It looked awkward on you, as if you’re not used to smiling this much in a day.

“You’re lucky that the pot’s made of plastic. Maybe some jerk decided it was funny to ruin someone’s day like this.”

Jack continued to watch you mumble speculations under your breath. He didn’t realize it, but his hands gripped the pot and his tail wagged faster.

Who knew you could be this mellow? Your concern for his plant was kind of cute.

“Thanks,” Jack told you with a small smile, “for finding my cactus.”

You stopped mumbling, and you looked up at Jack again. You looked surprised at his gratitude, as if being thanked was rare for you. While Jack drank in the foreign expressions you made, a thought suddenly dawned on him.

“By the way, what are you doing out here?”

That seemed to snap you back to reality. The familiar frown returned, one that Jack vividly remembered from the little time he spent with you.

“Grim ate too much tuna,” you grumbled with an annoyed glare. It was as if you could see the monster-cat right in front of you.

“Now, I gotta buy more from Sam. That little bastard, I swear to the Seven—”

Jack noticed that you mentioned the Seven, rather than the usual God. You were getting comfortable with the lingo here. The corner of his lips twitched at that. Still, he made sure not to smile. If he did, you’d just tease him more, and this conversation wasn’t going to go anywhere.

“I’ll walk you there. It wouldn’t feel right if I left you after you helped me out.”

You paused at Jack’s words. A closed-lip smile lit your face, and the beastman couldn’t help but admire the sudden change in expression.

“Really?” You asked, and he caught the relief in your tone again. “Thanks. You sure you wouldn’t mind? I mean, you still have that little guy to take care of.”

You kept calling his tiny cactus a little guy. Cute. That was all Jack could think about. For someone who was callous and confrontational like you, you were being cute right now.

“I don’t mind. Besides,” Jack slightly raised the potted succulent to make his point, “think of it as returning the favor.”

You saw Jack’s tail wagging and his ears perking up. He probably didn’t notice, and you grinned at that.

“If you insist!” You chirped, before slipping an arm in his and leading him towards Sam’s store. He stumbled and stuttered again, before he exclaimed, “O-oi, hold on!”

“No can do.” Your grin grew wider, as you tugged the taller and larger freshman with you. Even if he was stronger and stockier than you, Jack let you drag him around.

“You put yourself in this situation, so I’ll make you carry the rest of the cans!”

Who knew he could seriously be this cute and earnest? For someone as intimidating and quiet as Jack, his reactions are earnestly cute.

You and Jack fell into another conversation—teasing him and earning an embarrassed blush—as you two walked to Sam’s store. The silence in the courtyard was disrupted with amused laughter and mortified grumbles.

As the afternoon sun showered the two in a golden glow, the cactus seemed to look more lively and vibrant in Jack’s hands now. It basked in the two’s company, as if it was the sunlight it needed all along.

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arabaka · 1 year ago

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ᰔ ̗̀➛ CHAPTER O1. INDULGENCE

₊˚ʚ ☁️ ₊˚ ♡ ﾟ. content warnings ⤸

nsfw. reigen arataka x afab!reader. dubcon (you 'n reigen drink beforehand). power dynamics (he's your boss). oral sex (both ways). 6k word count.

₊˚ʚ ☁️ ₊˚ ♡ ﾟ. author's note ⤸

excited to get into my first multi-chapter fic for my favorite of all time and i hope you all enjoy this as much as i had fun writing it. please be on the look out for further installments and i will be making a chapter index post once the second chapter one is out.

ᰔ ̗̀➛ MINORS / AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

“I feel bad, making you work on your birthday.”

“You’re not making me.” You tease him with an eye roll. “You offered me the day off, remember? Buuuutttt I have nowhere else to be right now so might as well. My plans are in the evening anyways.”

Well you’ve certainly piqued his interest. “Oh? What are you going to do?”

“My friends want to take me out drinking. They do this thing where they order the same drink at every bar to rank them and there’s a bar they’ve been talking about for ages…”

“Is that something you want to do?” There he goes again, being thoughtful in a way that shouldn’t strike you like one of Cupid’s arrows to the heart but it does. It stings a little that way too, because you’ve been ruminating over feelings you have for your boss, feelings you shouldn’t have in the first place, for a while now and there’s no hope for that going anywhere. But you manage a convincing enough smile and a lighthearted laugh to throw him off your scent.

“Oh yeah, of course! It’s better I leave it in their hands anyways. I’m only good at organizing when I’m on the clock.” You give him a wink and when he laughs, you let your gaze linger on the man. You aren’t about to miss that smile on his face, the kind that travels north, giving him a delightful crinkle by the eyes as his whole face just lights up. And over something you said.

The moment passes but you keep thinking, even as you retreat to your work on the company laptop. It’s easy for your mind to wander as you sift through the drivel that is Reigen’s email. Sorting requests by type and urgency, the task’s drudgery can’t distract you like you want it to. So the gears keep turning, subjecting you to thoughts of him, him, him until–

“Would you want to come?”

The way Reigen whips his whole body around, face cast with a look of surprise with raised brows and his mouth slightly agape, makes you shrink in your seat. God, why did I ask? Of course he wouldn’t want to come, he hardly drinks as it is, he’s probably busy, he’s –

“Sure– I mean, yes!” His hands wave about, hoping to dispel any doubt in the air, “S-Sorry, I just– Didn’t expect you to ask.”

A weight’s been lifted off your chest, that much he can see by the way you unclench your jaw and smile at him. Your smile. Makes his heart pitter patter, rumbling awake feelings of his own he’s been trying so hard to deny. Professionalism first, he struggles to tell himself but the heart is a funny thing; it does what it wants and as of late, it’s been wreaking havoc every time you come into the office.

“Oh, good!” You cheer and the way you clap your hands together is more adorable than you realize. Hand clasped over his mouth, digits conveniently covering the dust of pink on his cheekbones, Reigen clears his throat. “Where’s it by?” He asks, hands now occupying themselves with the purportless shuffling of papers with his back turned to you– another means of hiding his blush from you.

Not that you even noticed in the first place. You’re much too busy trying to mask your own excitement. “Not from here, actually… But it is by my place.” Now you’re using the laptop as a crutch, gluing your eyes to the screen when you suggest, “If you want, we can go together… And then walk to the bar?” Your lips pressed into a tight, thin line, you still your breathing for Reigen’s reaction. You’ve never been alone with him after work, where are you getting this bravery from?! If you can barely survive asking him, how are you going to handle him stepping into your home? Your brain starts to unravel, questions of when the last time you cleaned and tidied your place swirling about and there are no good answers to bring you peace.

Spine jerking upright, Reigen stammers, “Y-Yeah, that works!” He nearly avoids cracking his voice, one surprise after the other doing damage to his psyche you’re not even aware of.

“Good– Great!” You, however, are not so lucky. Your pitch is obviously notes higher than the last time you spoke and god, do you wish you would stop embarrassing yourself. Now you’re welcoming the silence between the two, however awkward it may be, because it’s a reprieve from making a fool of yourself.

Okay, time to get back to those emails. You can do this.

✩ ̗̀➛ Spirit photo - Is it dangerous? ✩ ̗̀➛ The spirit of my ex-boyfriend keeps showing up! Help me! ✩ ̗̀➛ I’ll believe you’re real if you answer my 3 questions…

You can’t help but snort at that last one. Into the Obvious Troll folder it goes.

One page down. Just a few more to go.

The next array of requests loads, but you don’t get any farther than the first one.

✩ ̗̀➛ Perv Master - We got a fresh batch of pervy videos for you! Now you can be a perv master…

SNAP!

You slam the laptop shut, only now you wish you hadn’t because you’re met with an equally shocked look from Reigen, his attention squarely on you and your very loud reaction to what you just saw. “What happened?! Something wrong?”

“N-Nothing! Nothing!” It’s not very convincing, but it’ll do. “Just– Needed some updates is all. Figured I’d let it rest. Don’t want it overheating!” The laugh you muster is weak, barely leaves your lips with an exhale but it’s all you can give. “I need a smoke break.”

You leave before Reigen can even think of a reply.

Since when do you smoke?

You don’t. You just needed to get out of there and fast. What the hell was that? Maybe you were seeing things; you didn’t give yourself a chance to read it over but what else could it have been? You stumble back against the building’s hard surface, hand over your heart as if you couldn’t already feel it pulsate like mini earthquakes in your ears.

Does Reigen really go on sites like that? You didn’t pen him down as the type. You gulp but your throat aches, the prospect of Reigen’s lascivious activities a jagged lump you can’t seem to swallow. Not that there would be a problem, he’s free to do what he wants but… You’re contending with that wild imagination of yours and you’re picturing Reigen, late at night when no one’s around but his urges, the hand you’ve had on your shoulder many times before reaching into his draws to relieve himself and—

Your heart rate quickens and you feel dizzy.

But what if it was a spam email, and you’re out here frazzled for nothing? You have to laugh. You might just be making a mountain out of a molehill, jumping to conclusions… As you’re wont to do.

“Sorry about that.” You come back as abruptly as you left but Reigen can’t help but notice your sheepish expression, along with the faint sheen on sweat cast alongside your features.

And the fact that you don’t smell of smoke at all.

“You alright?” He asks from the end of the short corridor, gaze following you as you get yourself situated.

Fingers drumming along the laptop’s edge, you hesitate opening it up under Reigen’s watchful eyes. Surely he wouldn’t be able to read the text from where he’s standing but you’re paranoid now, already wanting a reprieve from this awkward moment. The last thing you need is diving head first into another one. “Yeah, totally.” You rub your lips together and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, mannerisms Reigen knows better than to dismiss.

You wear your heart on your sleeve, your anxiety even more so. Everyone has a tell and Reigen’s just so happened to memorize yours. But he won’t pry; if you want him to know, you’ll tell him. So he gives you your space, retreating to his own desk but not before offering up a warm smile– not knowing that right now, his charm could very well be the death of you.

Laptop open, the email stares back at you. No mistaking it, the correspondence is definitely from a porn site. But should you open it? It’s none of your business, none of Spirits and Such business but… Your pointer finger trembles crazily over the touchpad. Guilt welling in your very soul, contending with burgeoning curiosity, you hesitate.

And then you click.

It could be spam. Maybe someone signed up using Reigen’s email as revenge. These are all options swiveling in your mind before the email loads but when it does, there’s no mistaking it.

It’s 100% intentional.

Hello REIGEN ARATAKA,

There are new videos in some of your subscribed categories! Catch up on what you’ve been missing!

SUBSCRIBED CATEGORIES:

JOI STOCKINGS UPSKIRT FACESITTING PUBLIC

Oh, what were you thinking? Embarrassment flares over the apples of your cheeks, veins down the column of your neck flexing with tension as your eyes dawdle over the very, very explicit thumbnails accompanying each genre. You’re no prude but this… You’re viewing porn at work. And not just any porn– porn your boss, the man your heart and brain have been clouded with lately, is so interested in, he receives email updates.

You’re frozen to your seat, the only thing of yours capable of making any sort of movement being your eyes– you drink in the sight before you, the little voice in your head be damned. This is an insight into what Reigen is into and can you really deny the intrigue infiltrating your bloodstream? You’re only human, after all.

So you look, chest tightening and thighs rubbing with every image. Some of the stills are innocuous, for porn that is. Take for example the stockings category– most of the previews are focused on the legs, each thumbnail featuring a different pair. Some are lacy, featuring ornate designs while others are simply opaque, the allure being in the glimpse of garter straps just beneath the skirt’s hemline.

You gulp. Does he really like them that much? You can’t help but scour your closet in your mind’s eye– you must have a few pairs yourself, right? You swallow harder. What if you wore some to your party tonight?

Flustered but still inquisitive, your eyes flit through the other categories, taking in the sights and trying not to make a peep. You see it all: women with their hands on dildos of varying sizes, a worm’s eye view of a woman’s bottom, her skirt a mere curtain around her plump thighs, and a man’s face just before he’s to be obscured by the partner hovering above him.

The mouse jitters on the screen, mimicking your real life twitches, as you panic over what to do now. Do you mark it unread? Delete it? After concocting a scenario where Reigen looks at his inbox, sees the email, and then approaches you with an apology, you decide it’s better to trash it… And then empty the trash, digitally wiping your hands clean of the situation entirely.

If only you could purge your mind the same way… Although… Would you want to?

You can’t deny that it was jarring at first– getting an eyeful of exactly what your boss gets up to when no one else is around. But you have to admit, that when the initial panic washed away, what you were left with was…

Temptation.

Intrigue.

Arousal.

It’s dirty, feeling the way you do but god, there’s something so liberating about it. All this time, you hadn’t an inkling of what Reigen, the object of your affection, was into but now it’s like an open book, all about him, has plopped onto your lap. It’d be a shame to waste such an opportunity acting like you’re so innocent.

Because let’s face it, you liked it. Liked knowing what gets Reigen to fish his cock out in a hurry after a long day of work, loved imagining those overworked hands being put to good use. You thought you would spend the next few hours on the clock riddled with worry but oh, your brain was far too deep in the gutter to even consider that at this point.

Maybe this was just the push you needed because now that you’ve seen, now that you know what Reigen is into, you can no longer be satisfied with your boss-employee relationship. How can you? You know what makes him tick, maybe the only one that does and you want to keep it that way.

And when you flip the sign from OPEN to CLOSED, you know there’s no turning back.

You’re making a move on him. Tonight.

“... and to this day, she still brings it up! I was seven!”

“Didn’t know you had such sticky fingers– do I have to keep an eye on you? Been wondering about some missing pens…”

You giggle, fishing for your keys as the two of you near your apartment door. “I took it back to the store! I have a conscience, you know. Steal dagashi once and you’re a pariah for life.” You hear Reigen mumble something or another but you laugh all the same, shoving your key in the lock and letting yourself breathe in the normalcy of the moment surrounding you. It feels nice.

And your apartment is clean. Perfect.

“You have a …. Really nice place.” Reigen comments, hands humbly in his pockets as he realizes… He’s never really imagined what kind of house you would keep: whether you set out coasters and if they’re personalized, what you kept in your fridge, what you put on display, etc. But everything he is seeing– it’s so you and that makes Reigen smile.

“You think so?” You can’t deny the surge of pride that spreads like a blanket of warmth over the pitter patter of your head. “Thanks! I couldn’t wait to get my own place so I could spruce it up the way I like. Couldn’t really do that when I lived at home.”

“Strict parents?” Reigen broaches the topic with a little trepidation, though within his words there’s a subtext of compassion.

You don’t mind the gentle nudge in your personal life, reassuring he’s alright with a returned tone of care, “It’s more like… Realizing as an adult, it means you can do whatever the hell you want.” You smile tenderly at Reigen, “I should… I should get ready. I won’t take long. Remotes are over there, if you’re thirsty I have waters in the fridge. Make yourself at home, really.”

Reigen chuckles under his breath, waving you off, “Thanks but take your time.”

You skitter off to your room, a rush of excitement surging your system as you shut the door behind you. You don’t think you’ve ever moved faster to change, having already long pieced the perfect outfit in your head since your big resolution. You roll up your favorite pair of thigh highs over your plump thighs, smiling to yourself as you admire the way your own legs look covered by the sheer, black fabric. These are the winners, alright.

You stumble and shimmy into the rest of your ensemble, whole body jittering at every beat. Your stomach winds, butterflies struggling to flutter but you allow yourself a breath, really let the air fill and expand your lungs, before your hand is on the doorknob and the rest of you is on your way to the man you’re going to do your best to woo tonight.

And when you come out, there’s no mistaking it; he’s doing more than just the courtesy glance you do when a friend gussies up. He’s drinking in your appearance, trying to fight the obvious drift towards your legs, the absolute territory of your thighs showing just a peek under your skirt. He has to clear his throat, as though that in itself wasn’t a tell, before finally piping up, “You look good– great.” He corrects his wording, but it’s still not enough. But going beyond that…

That would be an issue, wouldn’t it?

He’s… He’s your boss. He’s here in your house, sitting like a friend, ready to go out with you like one but…

He’s certainly not looking at you like either one.

But that’s okay. That’s what you want. And soon he’ll know that too. Because tonight, you want to cross boundaries. You want to erase them altogether. You don’t want to think about the potential mess you’ll leave when the limits are blurred and streaked.

So you let him ogle, relish the way it feels to have his attention so obviously tuned into the erotic stretch of your socks, the fabric turned gossamer under the delicious expanse of your thighs. You can already see the effects of your outfit clear as day on Reigen’s face; he’s never been great at concealing his surprise, or in this case… His flustering.

A bead of sweat attempts a path down his temple but he swipes it away, framing it as fixing his hair but you see through him. Try as he might, those dark brown irises always find a way back to your absolute territory. Because after all, your stockings are stretched so thin, they’ll rip if you’re not careful.

Good thing tonight isn’t about being careful.

“Can I get you anything?”

Reigen shakes his head a little faster than normal, struggling to maintain eye contact. You think it’s cute. “Uh, actually,” He ends up croaking, resisting the twitch in his fingers to adjust his tie, “Just a glass of water. Thank you.”

The stark crack in his voice is unlike anything you’ve ever heard, at least from him. The foray into the unknown is already beginning with a series of firsts, the next being a stir in your belly upon seeing your boss so on edge and all because of you. A power trip.

The confidence may have left him, but not you. Because when you turn to leave, the pleats of your skirt swaying and descending around you in a sinful halo, you can feel his eyes boring into you, Reigen falling headfirst into the brief moment of reprieve to quell his curiosity.

You could get used to this.

He, on the other hand, is spiraling. Sure, he’s stolen long looks at you when you’re greeting clients or working on the computer but all that was harmless. This? This is dangerous.

His composure coming undone and his head steaming like a pot with water boiling over, being left alone with his thoughts is a much worse decision than Reigen anticipated. He sits in the unbearable thick silence, back hunched over with his hands together and fingers splayed, unable and not wanting to erase that image of you in his mind.

He swears he’s not a bad guy. He liked you before this, he tells himself. It’s not out of left field for him to ogle you in your natural element. Absorb what he can. Besides, there’s more to you than just the sashay of your hips, the peek of supple flesh just underneath your chic skirt… But god if that isn’t the only thing clogging his thoughts.

A new batch of perspiration starting to build up in his pores, Reigen fights it with regular inhales-exhales, telling himself he’s fine and can manage. But even he knows that’s not the case.

You have to know– there’s just no mistaking the gloss of sweat that streaks down from both temples, even after he tries to get rid of the evidence with a tissue he’s nabbed from your coffee table. And there’s no cloaking the frazzled expression flush over his face, cheeks a subtle pink when you return, glass of water in hand.

You so badly want to ask if everything is okay, make him answer you with a warbled voice and put on a show like he does for clients that catch him off guard, but even you have a limit.

You sit next to him, leaving a cushion space between the two of you. Your smile is angelic, so much so that Reigen feels bad. He feels terrible because he wants to bring you down to his level, make you fall just like you did him.

Because there’s just no way you feel the same.

Your living room is humble but still bigger than his studio apartment; there’s pictures in varying frames and sizes aligned on your wall, featuring people he doesn’t know. Featuring a side of you he doesn’t know. A sick feeling in his gut sinks like an anchor, chains of jealousy falling in clumps all around him but then you look at him with your eyes absolutely sparkling with intrigued enthusiasm, and he feels the weight leave just as quick as it came.

You smile but really, you don’t know what to say now that your run of temptation has slowed down. Do you talk about work? Do you play 21 Questions? Do you talk about yourself?

Much to your relief, it’s Reigen that cuts through the silence after a much needed half-glass of water. “So, any of your friends,” An open palm gestures towards the wall of memories, “going to be there tonight?”

And surprisingly enough, it’s this simple question that gets the ball rolling because then it’s talking about some of the events portrayed in the pictures, sharing of stories, and most importantly, shared laughter.

You don’t know why - and neither does he - why it took you two so long to do something like this.

So much so, you’re a twinge disappointed when your phone rouses awake on the coffee table; it’s your friend.

“Oh, that’s them. Hold on.” You get back on your feet, ambling to your kitchenette and giving your friend the usual greeting before asking, “So where are you guys? Are you there yet?”

Reigen watches you walk away, surprisingly able to resist the urge to visually devour your legs once again because now he’s thinking about something else: that this is already inherently different from the many group outings the Spirits and Such family has had since you came on board, but not just because it’s you and him and you and him alone.

It’s because with just the two of you, the chemistry you have is undeniable. It’s not clouded by conversations from two or three different people. It’s not interrupted by bursts of laughter, of which either one of you is swept up by the buzzing fun. It’s real, it’s organic, and it’s… It’s going to be difficult to ignore moving forward.

Even more so now because when you return, with one of your hands idly playing with the bottom hem of your skirt, you give him a game-changing update.

“Soo, they all have food poisoning… Real glad I turned down their lunch invite.” You say, relief whistling from pursed lips with only a small shrug slumping your shoulders.

You don’t look… All that upset, Reigen notices. Shouldn’t you? It’s your birthday after all… “I’m sorry to hear that… We can still go, if you’d like?” It’s not a pity offer. It’s very real. He hopes you know that.

You do. But… “I have something a little different in mind… If you’re up for it.”

Because you’re not going to let anything hold you back– not friends, not food poisoning, not even an act of god. No, you’re going to make your own plans.

It is your birthday after all.

“... And you’re sure you want to spend it with your boss?” He asks you with a chuckle when the two of you raise the first glass of the night.

“No.” A clink and a giggle and you say the words that seal your fate for the night, “I want to spend it with you.”

Oh. Well, who is he to deny the birthday girl?

And that’s how one drink turns to two. Then three. Then… You’ve lost count.

But Reigen hasn’t. He’s only one drink in and that’s by choice; the lightweight is already slush with alcohol all the same.

Besides… He wants to remember you like this.

How you laugh a little louder, smile a little wider…

How you touch him… Touch him a lot more than you ever would sober.

Stripped of your inhibitions and loosely guarded, your hands travel where they want and he lets them. A pang of guilt rattles his ribcage because he should be stronger than this. But he tried, he promises– he’s a good guy, but even that thought is strained when you scoot so close you’re leg-to-leg with the man and you can only produce a look of disappointment when he tries to add in some distance.

Because… You feel the same. He sees it now, so clearly even through the blur of a lemon sour.

So this is… This is fine, right?

Letting your hand make a lazy clasp around his thigh. Letting your alcohol-spotted lips coo in drunk marvel at the defined muscle you’ve just squeezed. Letting your fingers walk up his suit until they’re hooked around his tie. Letting you help him out of his suit when you slur about him being overdressed.

All of that is fine, right?

So then it’s okay for him to do the same, for his much larger hands to mimic the actions of yours. For his fingers to play with the elastic band of your stockings, dipping underneath to feel for himself the supple flesh he’s been eyeing all night.

Reigen has to stifle a groan, harbor it in his throat, when you clench your sweet thighs together, smushing his hand into an open palm over your leg. The way you feel, how much of your softness comes to meet his touch is making the room feel so, so much smaller.

He doesn’t have to wonder if it’s you or the alcohol that’s making him so dizzy. He knows.

You watch as his fingers curl in, daring to give you a squeeze. The room is quiet. You swallow thickly. Head heavy with what feels like cotton balls, your eyes are slow to wander up Reigen’s body but when they finally get to his face, you find that his gaze had been waiting for you the entire time.

The next few seconds are a motion blur.

The urge to kiss him at its peak, you move in… And so does he. It’s a kiss that quickly comes to house a chorus of groans from the both of you, both your lips quickly wetting with spit and clumsily sealing the lewd tremors from your throats.

Noses brush together. Teeth clatter when they bump. But your veins crave more. Through the fog of the alcohol, you try to will your legs to move but for better or worse, your muscles seize up.

That’s okay. Reigen tells you, not with words but with hands on your waist that can’t help but dig in as he guides you on your back. Let me.

He huddles over you, breath dense with want. You watch his chest cave in and release, that’s how heavy he’s panting over you and all just before he dives in for another kiss that feels as important to him as breathing. The kiss is somewhat discoordinated again – your mouths nearly miss and there’s spin staining your cheeks – but who can blame either one of you?

After all, for how long has this been in the making?

How long has it been since you started daydreaming of this very moment? And how could it be so much better than your imagination already, spirits and all? Reigen kisses you at a feverish pace, knees closing in on your hips and his hands at either side of your face, holding firmly as though you’ll slip through his fingers otherwise.

He gives you a hungry groan to swallow and you return the noise in kind with a whine that rumbles all the way from your chest, your hips pushing up and out to try and grab some friction. Something. Anything.

You taste like candied alcohol; sickly sweet, Reigen thinks but pushes his tongue in your mouth anyways. The way you just give in his hold, the noises he manages to lick out of you, it’s making his slacks hurt fucking terribly.

You giggle loosely against the corner of his mouth, droopily kissing a path of kisses to his jawline. “You’re really enjoying this.” You observe cheekily, openly teasing your boss as though you aren’t just as culpable, just as dirty. As if your panties weren’t already giving way to your slick.

“I – I can stop.” Reigen mumbles, though he isn’t convincing anyone with the way he’s already leaning up against your lips, relenting in the way your mouth so greedily latches onto him. Your mouth… It just feels so good…

He’s said the last part out loud, he realizes it now from the way your lips purse and suck around his tender flesh. You’re going to leave him a mark. He should stop you.

But he doesn’t stop you, because he doesn’t want to.

His hips start their attempts to meet yours, Reigen humping into the air like an animal. He knows it’s pitiful, can feel the shame trickle down his temples in slithering beads of sweat, but he just can’t seem to get himself under control.

“Please,” He rasps, “Please tell me you want this.” He’ll allow your kisses, your hands to memorize his body if you just –

“Yes, Reigen.” You say so hushed, “Of course I do.” The words tumble together in a slur. But your intention is clear when you suddenly yank his hand and direct him to your dripping cunt from underneath your wrinkled skirt.

His breath rasps in his throat, his fingers curling into your seductive heat. He wasn’t expecting you to hold him there, jump right into goading his fingers to take a peek under the innocent hemline of your panties. Hell, he hasn’t even gotten to fondle your tits yet.

“You’re crazy.” Reigen is kissing to the side of your face, lips dragging as he shifts focus to getting his fingers under that pesky mesh band that rubs up against his fingertips from in between your legs. His cock throbs, aches from the unsatisfactory friction against his briefs.

You sweep your lower half up in a waving motion, loosely running your puffed clit along Reigen’s hand with a beautifully blissful sigh waiting for him at every peak. Eyelashes fluttering, your vision is a little blurry but you can just make out the staunch outline of his member straining through cotton fabric. Back lifting off the couch, you reach over and cup a squeeze, lips popping apart for a gasp as you get a taste of just how hard he is.

You grope and feel, pull and squeeze, all to satiate your perverted curiosity. Reigen’s cock… His shaft is slender but his girth is taut and as you run through his length, every time making him whimper and buck in your hand, you also discover just how much precum he’s already leaking out. “You feel so good,” Your voice is drawn out with a lewd whine, “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Reigen groans, mostly in pleasure but partly because he can’t believe it. “Oh?” His mouth at your ear, he clamps down on the shell for a nibble. “That makes two of us then.” He pants with an open mouth when you start massaging his twitching erection, “G-God.” He pulls away to spoil himself with another look at your plump legs cuffed by the sheer socks. “How’d you know I love thigh highs?” He grunts, one hand sliding down your body.

At this, you laugh. It’s airy and it’s short but gives Reigen pause. He pulls away, though still lets you rub firm strokes down his dick with just your thumb. He looks confused and in the haze of your drunkenness, you realize that you just gave yourself up.

How– How do you explain that to him? You remember being so damn sure earlier, with your goal to finally start something with your boss taking root earlier that day, but that was when you thought you could keep your advantage under wraps! You hiccup, “U-Uh, well…”

He’s looking at you expectantly. What are you going to say?

“I saw your porn earlier.”

The truth. You decide to go with the truth.

“My what ?!”

You realize now how that sounds, so you scramble to explain, “E-Email! You got an email. I, um… I opened it.” Shame’s got a chokehold on you right now. “I-I’m sorry! I was just curious! I wanted to know what you liked so I could– so I could get your attention! I w-wanted… I wanted you to see me that way.”

You watch Reigen’s throat tense on a hard swallow. He’s thinking.

Well, you did already confess your feelings, feelings he returns and then some…

With a small tremble, Reigen lurches forward until his lips are at your ear. You can’t hear him take a breath but you can feel it: it’s hot and sharp on your skin, making your pores bead up with sweat. “D-Did you want to do… Anything that you saw?” His voice is husky and several shades desperate. Rubbing against you is his hard on, throbbing and unashamed. “I-I– I already saw– see you that way.” He says in a deeply strained croak after a hearty pause.

That’s what gets you where you are now, still on the couch with your knees wedged up to your ears and Reigen crouched face deep into your plump cunt. Hungry swipes of his tongue over your panty-clad folds send shivers up to your mind. You grit your teeth in pain and pleasure– it’s close but not enough…

Reigen seems to be enjoying himself though, tongue nice and flat dragging slobber up your nether lips, every exhale accompanied by a tempered groan over your pussy. “Tastes so good…” He whimpers and sniffs, sucking on your lips with juicy puckers through the fabric. You watch his beautiful brown eyes start to flutter back, watch just how much of a lush your boss is for your warm cunt.

Still in awe, Reigen just barely gets to prying your underwear from your sticky inner thighs with the hook of one finger. “Mmmm,” He’s humming into your bare skin now and it makes you raise your hips off the couch right into his mouth, “Such a sweet pussy…”

Your hand finds refuge in his hair, pushing his choppy fringe back and holding on, something Reigen seems to enjoy if the muffled sound of his moaning is any indication. His gaze flickers upwards, the man currently lolling his velvety warm muscle through your labia minora, ending every cycle with a flick to your swollen clit in a strike that has you seeing white. He gives nasty, wet and loud kisses to your bud, drawing your tender collection of nerves between his lips until your aroma is thick in his mouth.

“Could eat you out all day.” Reigen huffs, coming up for air and looking so disheveled, your pussy throbs. His hair is all out of sorts, sticking up where it shouldn’t with sweat. His chin is dripping with your fluids and his. He looks so fucking good.

Your foot wobbles as it winds up Reigen’s outer thigh and your voice is a wispy shadow of your usual volume but you still manage to tease, “Then why’d you stop?”

And with a sheepish chuckle and his cheekbones aglow, he admits, “I was… Really close to cumming.” You giggle but the way your tongue wipes over your bottom lip tells him you like that.

“You wanna ?” Syllables blurring together, you turn the tables as you rise to your knees, cushions dipping under the weight shift as you lean closer and closer until it’s Reigen’s back along your couch and you between his legs.

… He doesn’t last long. How could he?

Your mouth was pure heaven on his cock, sucking up the pre-cum that was still driveling down his pinkened shaft. You had just gotten to the base, mouth leaking with saliva when all of a sudden, his hands were on the back of your head and his hips were pathetically rocking spurts of hot cum down your throat.

“Shit– I’m sorry I didn’t–”

His cock springs out of your mouth (his decision), spouting spit and cum with it. His hands flit about in the air; he’s trying to come up with something, anything that could redeem him but then he sees you, finger running across your lips and scooping up every last dribble of his load for swallowing, and his blood runs south.

And all you have to say for yourself is: “Can you go again?”

#reigen #reigen arataka #reigen x you #reigen x reader #reigen x y/n #reigen arataka x reader #reigen arataka x y/n #reigen arataka x you #reigen smut #reigen arataka smut #mob psycho #mp100 #mp reigen #mob psycho 100 #mob psycho reigen #mp100 reigen #.˚₊ ੈ ʚ 📝 ɞ ₊˚. ꒰ marie writes! ꒱#.˚₊ ੈ ʚ 🍰 ɞ ₊˚. ꒰ a little treat for reigen. ꒱

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yanderecrazysie · 8 months ago

Note

Could you do yandere hantengu clones x reader? Thanks

Title: The Winner Takes It All

Pairings: Hantengu Clones (Sekido, Karaku, Aizetsu, Urogi) x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, descriptions of death

Summary: Maybe you weren’t meant to be a demon slayer. Either way, you’ve bitten off way more than you can chew.

“The winner takes it all

The loser's standing small

Beside the victory

That's her destiny”

-From “The Winner Takes It All” by ABBA

The trees seem to press in on you, their tall branches arching over your head to cage you in. The darkness is all-consuming- inky blackness coats everything outside of the light of the village. The light is brighter than it should be, seeing as many of the buildings are ablaze, the fire casting flickering shadows across the dead grass.

The wood of the houses is dry from the lack of rain and catches fire like boxes of tinder. The inhabitants run screaming from the area, praying that they will reach the next village over and find refuge there. After all, their home is no longer safe.

The air is thick with the scent of demons.

You watch as your crow flies off, back to the safety of the demon slayer corp headquarters. Hopefully, it will return with a hashira, instead of more lower ranks like you and the only other two slayers that still stand.

There had been twenty-something of you to start.

Blood coats the ground in puddles and splatters. The bodies of demon slayers and villagers alike litter the streets and are picked apart by rats. Neither the innocent villagers nor the trained warriors were sufficiently prepared for this battle.

The two slayers that stand are both young men, a rank or two above you at most. You do not know them, but you beg the gods to keep them alive. It’s not for their sake, no, it’s a selfish wish.

You don’t want to be alone.

Chaos rages through the village from four completely different sources. The initial demon has disappeared, the false excitement of taking off his head long since faded. He was, no doubt, alive and hiding somewhere as the four new demons that had come from the beheading wreaked havoc on the burning village.

You want to go back to the headquarters, where it was safe, and find a job that didn’t involve actually fighting man-eating demons anymore. You had cut off the heads of 47 demons, but none of them had been a part of the 12 kizuki, much less an upper moon.

You had seen the “Upper Rank Four” kanji written on his wide red eyes as he begged and pleaded to keep his head. Such a pathetic demon didn’t seem to fit in the upper ranks, and it seemed like it would be a quick execution.

Now, you wish none of you had fallen for that trap. From his head grew another and another until four completely different, extremely powerful demons were wielding their destructive power on the helpless village.

“Hey!” a voice sounds above you, one filled with a boundless joy that does not belong here, “Isn’t that the girl Hantengu’s always watching?”

Slowly, you look up. You’re the only girl around, there’s no doubt in your mind that you’re the topic on his tongue, but you wallow in denial. Hantengu? Isn’t that the name of the whiny demon we were sent to slay?

Above you, flapping his wings, is one of the four demons that now plague this village. His golden eyes stare playfully down at you, his mouth open in a smile so wide that you can see the word “joy” written in black on his tongue.

“I’m so excited! I’ve always wanted to meet you!” Suddenly, the half-bird man is folding his wings and diving straight down at you, cackling gleefully.

You swing your sword upwards desperately but he dodges the blow with ease, his hands- or, rather, his talons, grip your shoulders and rip you off the ground with a kick that sends dust flying and the pair of you into the air.

You have nothing to grab onto but your sword and it takes all you have to hold onto that when the shock of your feet leaving the ground hits you. His talons dig into your skin through your uniform, the nails thick and sharp. Unable to do much else, you let him do what he wants.

He flies to the tallest building’s roof and drops you a few feet above it. You land awkwardly and feel a pain shoot through your ankle as you struggle to find purchase on the slanted ground. Finally, you come to a stop near the edge, heart pounding as you take your sword in both hands and glare at the avian man soaring high above you in the night sky.

A clang startles you and you swing around to face yet another demon. This one has red eyes that glare daggers through your very soul, and his Khakkhara staff bangs ominously against the shingles of the flat roof he stands upon.

He looks much less friendly than the bird-man and suddenly you wish you were in the air again.

Even worse, the other two demons approach from your left and right respectively. The golden-eyed joyful bird-man lands behind you, so that you are completely surrounded by the demon clones.

“You have a good eye, Urogi,” the demon to your left speaks to the bird-like demon with a grin. He has emerald green eyes and carries an Uchiwa, which you recognize as the reason behind most of the destruction in the village houses. You remember him waving the innocent-looking leaf and wrecking a huge hole through several homes at once with just the air alone.

He catches your eye and sticks out his tongue playfully. You are able to easily read the word “pleasure” written on his tongue and cringe in disgust. He laughs, “Aww, she’s so cute! I just want to eat her up!”

The red-eyed demon with the deadly glare raises his Khakkhara and looks down on you with disdain, “I’ll finish her off quickly.”

You prepare for death, closing your eyes and forcing back tears. If only a hashira had come…

“But won’t Hantengu be sad?” a soft voice asks. You open your eyes and look over at the demon to your right. He has big, sorrowful eyes and he looks down, carefully avoiding your gaze.

The scary red-eyed demon holds his Khakkhara in the air, mercifully keeping it from touching the ground and releasing the electric bolts that had spelled the end for several other demon slayers. He lets out an angry huff and his glare turns even crueller, “Maybe he will be happy to see her in pieces.”

“No, he loves her!” the blue-eyed demon insists.

“What demon loves a human?” the red-eyed demon questions in disgust.

“The one we split off of apparently,” the green-eyed demon snickers, taking the information in stride, “‘means we can’t kill her, Sekido.”

“Fine, kill the remaining two scum,” the red-eyed demon, Sekido, commands.

Urogi spreads his wings and cackles, “Gladly!”

“With pleasure,” the green-eyed demon agrees.

The two of them leap off of the tall building, landing uninjured on the ground far below and charging the other two demon slayers. You watch in horror as Urogi opens his mouth, a yellow light glowing brightly in his mouth, paired with a feral screech from his throat before shooting out and hitting the two men square in the face. They fall back, paralyzed, completely helpless as the green-eyed demon descends upon them and…

You look away as the first blood splatter hits the ground. You can’t stand to watch them in their final moments, torn literally limb from limb. There is no hope for them. You know before the final scream that they are doomed to die.

Your trembling legs give way beneath you and you fall to your knees. You slide a little closer to the edge and you almost wish you would fall to your death. Surely that would be quicker than whatever these demons have planned for you.

The sounds of squishing flesh and splashing blood fills your ears. Tears drip down your cheeks and fall from your chin. You’re truly alone now. Or, rather, you’re the only human around.

“Hey, do you think Master Muzan will let us keep her?” an arm wraps around your waist and pulls you close. You look up tearfully and shudder when you see the pleasure demon looking down at you with excitement.

“How sad, maybe she would prefer death,” the sad demon says, “I fear that we may break her.”

The red-eyed demon walks up to you and grips your chin tightly, tilting it upwards so he can study you. He is quiet for a moment or two before he lets you go.

“I can’t deny she is quite attractive,” he admits, angry frown still not leaving his face.

“So we can keep her?” the green-eyed demon asks.

“Ahh, my heart is singing with joy!” Urogi crows, “She’ll be ours forever!”

“Until she dies, of course…” the blue-eyed demon moans sadly.

“Don’t be stupid,” the angry demon huffs, “Master Muzan will turn her into a demon.”

“What a sad fate…”

Urogi smiled widely, “Well, why not begin forever now?” He turned to you, smile morphing into a smirk, “Sorry red riding hood, the big, bad wolf is winning this time around.”

He opened his mouth and a yellow light began to glow inside it.

In a moment, you’d be unconscious and completely at his mercy.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere one shot #one shot #yandere demon slayer #demon slayer

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crazyunsexycool · 1 year ago

Text

My Little Love

Chapter 27

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x enhanced!Reader

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: Fluff, angst, explosion, implied character deaths

A/N: So here we go!!!

Series Masterlist

With a deep breath and a small stretch you begin to wake up. You smile when you realize that Bucky is still laying next to you. It’s a small comfort knowing he’s getting his much deserved rest since he tends to be awake earlier than you. Turning your head you take in his muscular back. It’s riddled with scars, scars that you’ve kissed many times already and will again. You shift slowly so as to not wake him and drape your arm around his midsection. Many nights it was Bucky pulling you into his chest and making you feel safe, at this moment you get to do the same. It makes you smile and you can’t help but lean forward and kiss his left shoulder blade. One kiss turned into two and then three and so on. By now you knew Bucky was awake but he stayed still as he accepted your affection.

“Good morning, baby.” You whisper into his ear.

Bucky turns his head to look at you with a lazy smile and sleepy eyes. He was beautiful and all yours.

“It’s a great morning, Sugar.”

Bucky turns in bed and lays on his back. You take the opportunity to straddle him and lean down to give him a quick kiss.

“I have a date planned for us today.” Bucky says when you pull back.

“Really?”

“Yup. Just the two of us.”

“Have you informed our daughter? You know she’ll want to go with us.”

“I did talk to her about it. She did pout but she knows it’s a surprise so she’s ok.” Bucky chuckles as his hands slip under your sleep shirt.

“Let’s get up, old man, before those two can wreak havoc on the compound.”

“Give me five more minutes with you just like this.”

“Just five?”

“Fine,” Bucky rolled his eyes. “Ten.”

“Happily.”

****

“Uppies.” Lottie says with a yawn, it’s still early and you’re surprised to see her awake.

With her hair sticking up in all directions and her purple princess footed-pajamas still on Lottie clings to Bucky. Hiding away from the light by sticking her face into the space between his shoulder and neck she holds onto her pink teddy bear. You wave Bucky over to the couch since he won’t be able to do much now that Lottie has decided to fall back asleep. You smile as you watch Bucky smooth out her hair as he sits down and gets comfortable.

“Morning mama.” Henry walks into the kitchen. He’s still sleepy too but he smiles in your direction as he holds up a hair tie. “Can you help me?”

You grab it and pull his hair up into a manbun.

“Have you thought about getting a haircut?”

“No, I don’t want it short.” Henry covers his head with his arms.

“It was just a suggestion, sweet boy. I won’t make you do something you don’t want.” You kiss the top of his head. “You know your dad had long hair too and he looked very handsome with it.”

“Do I look handsome with it?”

“So handsome. Now why don’t you go cuddle up with dad and Lottie on the couch.”

“Ok.” Henry smiles and gives you a hug before he walks away while you work on breakfast.

“Hi Buce.”

“Hello Charlotte, how are you today?” Bruce asked as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Am good. Can habe uppies?”

Charlotte stopped right in front of Bruce, her hands busy with a paper plate while you trailed behind her. He picks her up and sets her down on one of the free spaces of his table.

“Habe pwesent Buce.”

“You do? Who’s it for?”

“Fo’ you.” She holds up the paper plate full of glued down dried macaroni pieces and painted cotton balls all laid down to look like him. You even helped her make the frame for his glasses out of construction paper.

“Is this me?”

“Yup.”

You chuckle as Bruce holds it up beside his face and asks if he and the macaroni art look alike. Charlotte giggles and nods happily.

“We’ve been playing around with different arts and crafts.”

“Habe this too.” Lottie holds up a bracelet made of green beads.

“Well this is so nice of you Charlotte. Thank you.”

“Now that we are done with the gift giving, here are my files that you needed.”

“Thanks. I’ll get them back to you as soon as I can. I also have those reports on those people that received the same shot you did. If you can look at them and give me your opinion, that would be great.” You nod while he pulls out two lollipops from his lab coat pocket. Something you realize he started doing recently. “And this is for you and your brother, Charlotte.”

“Wook mama.” Lottie holds up both lollipops.

“I see that. It was very nice of uncle Bruce, can you say thank you?”

“Oh, Tank you Buce.”

“You are very welcome.”

“I’ll see you later Bruce.”

“Bye-bye Buce.”

“Bye, Charlotte.” Bruce says as he sets her back on the floor.

****

“Here are the reports you needed.” Bucky holds up a stack of files and places them on Steve’s desk.

“Thanks. Is everything ok?”

“Yeah.” Bucky nods but then sits down on one of the chairs across from Steve’s desk. Henry takes the other one but is distracted playing with Alpine. “I’m taking Y/N out on a date tonight.”

“Nice, want me to watch the kids?”

“Nat volunteered, said something about you hogging up their time.” Bucky shrugs. “But I’m kind of nervous.”

“Nervous about what?”

“Steve, it's the date.”

“Oh. Wow ok so it’s happening tonight. When you come back you’ll be an engaged man.” Steve says with a grin. “This is great.”

“You don’t know that. Y/N could say no.”

Henry scoffs. “Please, mama would never say no to you.”

“I second that. I know she won’t say no, she loves you way too much.”

“Mama talks about how much she loves you all the time.”

Bucky nods slowly and takes a deep breath. It’ll be easy. All he has to do is ask a simple question. Although the thought of being rejected is really making him have second thoughts. It’s not about the rejection but the person doing it. He really can’t see his life without you now and he wants to give you the perfect evening and end it with the perfect proposal. Something small and intimate, just the two of you.

You were standing in the living room waiting for Bucky and saying your goodnights to the kids. Charlotte was giggling as she clung to you like a koala.

“Are you going to be good for auntie Nat?” You ask while smoothing out her hair.

“Am good mama.”

“What about you mister?”

“Yup.” Henry said between taking sips of his juice box. “You look pretty in your dress mama.”

“Thank you sweet boy. I just had to wear the dress you got me.”

“Yeah, so pwetty mama. Wike a pwincess.”

“Do you think daddy will think I look pretty?”

“Stunning, beautiful, gorgeous, bewitching. Should I go on?” Bucky says from the door with a fond smile. He closes the distance and wraps his arms around you and Charlotte, who is now sandwiched between you.

She giggles as she looks up at both of you.

“Dada am here.”

“I didn’t see you there, doll.”

Charlotte giggles some more before Bucky scoops her up. He peppers her cheeks with kisses and sets her down on the couch next to Henry and then places a kiss on Henry’s head.

“We have to go or we’ll be late to our reservations.”

“Ok well, have fun kids.” You wave at them as Nat walks in. “Thanks for watching them.”

“You’re welcome. Now go and have your own fun.”

Bucky drove you into the heart of the city. He was nervous, you could tell but you didn’t know why. Still he’d look over at you every few minutes and flash you his most charming smile. It wasn’t until you got to your destination that you knew something was up. Getting reservations at one of the most exclusive restaurants in the most exclusive hotel in New York City was no easy feat.

Bucky parks at the entrance and jumps out of the car to open your door. You admired how handsome he looked in his all black suit and t-shirt combo. He holds his hand out to help you up and out of the car and then offers you his arm.

“How did you manage reservations here?”

“Had a little help.” He winks as you walk toward the elevator to the top floor.

****

The view of the city was spectacular from the top floor where the restaurant was. The hostess led you from the entrance off to the left and onto a private balcony. There was only one table at the center and a bar at the end. Bucky pulls a chair out for you and a server is there in an instant to take your drink order.

“This is beautiful.” You murmur as you look out over the city.

“You’re beautiful.”

Bucky takes one of your hands over the table. His cheeks are tinted pink as he looks at you. You squeeze his hand to reassure him everything was ok even though you were trying to figure out why he was acting the way he was.

“Y/N, I-“ Bucky’s cut off by the ringing of both of your phones.

“Maybe it’s the kids.” You say as you fish yours out of your purse.

Bucky mutters a curse in Russian and grabs his phone. He stands and walks away to a corner so you won’t hear his conversation.

“Hey Nat, is everything ok?” You answer your phone.

“So sorry to ruin the date but we need you both back here immediately.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s a mission, can’t say more.”

“Fine, we'll be there as soon as possible.” You look up at Bucky just as he turns to look at you. He frowns and hangs up the call.

“Sorry Sugar, guess we’ll have to reschedule the date.”

“It’s ok.” You say as you take his hand and start walking back toward the elevator. You wrap your arms around Bucky’s midsection and rest your head against his chest. “Don’t be upset.”

“I just wanted tonight to be special. I even had a room reserved for us.”

You pull back to look at him.

“Oh really?” You give him a mischievous smirk.

“Mmhmm. I wanted you all to myself tonight.”

“We will definitely reschedule then.”

Bucky smiles and kisses you. He feels like the ring is burning a hole in his pocket. Maybe he should have asked you right before leaving the restaurant anyway.

Everyone was already in the conference room when you walked in. Lottie and Henry were in a corner with noise canceling headphones and tablets unaware of what was going on.

“Sorry for ruining your date guys.” Steve gives you an apologetic smile. “But trust me you’ll want to be here for this.”

“What’s going on?”

“As you know since the moment we found Charlotte and then Henry, Hydra has been trying to get them back. That included the trap they set up for Y/N, Sam, Clint and Nat and the one they set up for me and Steve.” Tony says as he pulls up some images on the large screen at the front of the room. “These people were responsible for developing the future winter soldier program. While most of them have died or retired, the program is still going strong. Right now their focus is getting the kids back.”

“They’ve mostly stayed underground.” Steve adds. “It’s been hard to track them but finally after all these months we have intel that they will be meeting tomorrow so we have to leave tonight if we want to get all of them.”

“If we do that, that means it’s over?”

“No one will be after the kids anymore?” You ask hopefully as you reach for Bucky’s hand.

“Exactly, we can get rid of this part of hydra for good.”

“I’ll call my dad and we can go.”

“I’m sorry but you won’t be able to go with us, Y/N.” Steve says.

“Why not?”

“Because Hydra has a hit out on you.” Tony presses a button on the remote in his hand and up pops up multiple communications from hydra officials wanting you to be dealt with. “Since you were the one to carry the kids out and the one to kill one of the highest ranking members in hydra you’ve painted a big old bullseye on your back. If you went with us well…”

You sit back and nod as you realize that they’re right. If you go on this mission it will just make it easier for hydra to try and kill you.

“Ok. I’ll stay.”

“Everyone suit up. The faster we get there the faster we can end this.”

****

“Good wuck.” Charlotte tells everyone on the team as they walk into the jet. Henry stands beside her and offers everyone high fives.

You stood not too far away from the kids and watched as everyone got on. Steve walked up and stopped next to you.

“I’ll keep an eye on him, don’t worry.” Steve places a hand on your shoulder.

“I know you will, just don’t get too reckless because I’m not there to keep my eye on you.”

Steve chuckles before giving you a quick hug and walking over to the kids. Bucky’s hands wrap around your waist as he pulls you into his chest. He presses a kiss to your shoulder as you both watch Steve hugging Lottie and Henry.

“Once this is over we can actually do things with them outside of the compound.” Bucky says.

“I’ll be making a list. They’ll be so excited when we take them out.”

“Not too excited when they start school though.”

You turn in his arms and perch your hands on his shoulders. Bucky rests his forehead against yours.

“It’s almost over.”

“Be careful out there.”

“I will. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You tell him before giving him a kiss.

Henry and Charlotte run towards you and Bucky. He pulls away from you and grabs Henry before the latter can run into him. There are hugs and kisses for both kids before Bucky finally and reluctantly pulls away from you. With one final wave goodbye Bucky gets on the jet and you watch as it takes off.

“Alright kiddos, let's go inside.”

“Mama can habe mobie night?” Lottie asks as she takes your hand.

“That sounds like a fun idea, sweet angel. We can get in our pajamas and get our favorite snacks and watch as many movies as we can. We can even make a pillow fort in the living room. What do you say Henry?”

Henry nods. “ Can we watch Cars?”

“Of course we can.”

“Tonight is going to be awesome.”

“Yeah it is.”

After an almost 10 hour flight the team had finally made it to the facility where hydra was meeting. Bucky was anxious to get this over with and go home. Home to his family to finally start a new chapter in his life. One that would begin when you said yes to his question. He couldn’t wait for that moment.

“Gear up team, it’s time. Don’t forget the plan.” Steve says.

Everyone double checks their gear before finally starting the mission. Tony, Sam and Vision head out first as they do a fly over and lay down cover fire. The rest of the team drops down soon after while Bruce stays on the jet as back up. A small group of hydra agents fight to protect the building but it’s no use and it doesn’t take too long for the team to regroup in front of the main doors.

“Does anyone else think that was too easy?” Nat speaks up as she looks around the area.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they have all of the other agents protecting these sick sons of bitches.”

“Just be prepared and stay focused, there’s no turning back if we lose these people now we might never find them again.” Steve says. He takes his shield and hits the lock on the door handle to break it open. As soon as it’s open everyone runs in to complete their objective.

****

Every level of the building is checked and nothing. The building is practically empty with the exception of a few agents that were taken care of easily.

“What the hell is going on?” Sam says as he and Bucky walk into the control room to meet up with everyone else.

All of the monitors in the room lit up at the same time. A video of you and the kids walking through the compound halls starts playing.

“Where the hell is everyone?” Bucky asks as he looks around.

Tony and Nat begin to type furiously on some of the computers as they try to figure it out.

“Has anyone heard from command central? I’m getting radio silence.”

“It’s not radio silence.” Steve answers Nat as he realizes what’s going on. “It’s a trap, like your first mission after we found Charlotte.”

“Soldat.”

“What the fuck?”

“You should have given our assets back when you had the chance.” The voice said. “I hope you had fun playing house.”

There are several pictures of the kids playing outside from days and months prior. Bucky pulls out his phone to try and call you but there’s no connection.

“Tony please tell me you got something.”

Steve and Sam head for the doors but when they try to open them they can’t.

“We’re locked in.”

“Tony!”

“I’m trying here.” He shouts back.

“Say goodbye to your family, Soldat.” The voice says.

A missile hits the living quarters. It’s as if the air had been sucked out of the room as the team watches the compound get hit.

“No, no, no, no,no. Please tell me this isn’t real.” Bucky cries out. “It can’t be real. They’re in there.”

“We’ll figure it out, Buck, but right now we have to get out of here.”

“What if they’re gone?” Bucky watches as the footage of the explosion replays over and over again.

“Bruce, we need your help getting out of here.”

A few minutes later the building is practically destroyed as the Hulk smashes his way through. Everyone rushes to the jet. The whole flight Bucky can’t stop pacing. Steve and Sam try to calm him down but nothing works. He’s a mess and rightfully so. It takes halfway through the flight for them to finally have some type of connection to the outside world again. Bucky immediately starts to call your phone but it goes to voicemail.

By the time they finally get to the compound Bucky’s worst fears are realized when the jet lands and he sees that the compound is completely destroyed. Bucky felt his chest seize as he took in the damage. Any hope he had that you and the kids were ok is gone.

Ch. 28

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