#he sits like a refined gentleman
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i need caine to give me therapy fr
#he sits like a refined gentleman#he is very silly and polite#caine#tadc caine#caine tadc#tadc zooble#zooble tadc#the amazing digital circus#amazing digital circus#digital circus#tadc#tadc episode 3
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hi yume congrats on your follower event, you deserve each one !! <3 can i please order a dragonfruit champagne sundae HEHE 🧚🏻♀️
❝ THANK YOU FOR YOUR ORDER、@justblades .ᐟ ⟡ HERE IS YOUR RECEIPT FROM CAFÉ YUME ⟡
𐙚DRAGONFRUIT CHAMPAGNE SUNDAE:sends you right into ‘paradise’!
𐙚 dish desc。.a drunk date gone unexpectedly wrong?
.。𝜗𝜚 labels。smutty, drunk, engaged in Sunday and not yet with blade, im sorry if you were disappointed dhil was not here because of the dragon label (I really can’t write him well lolol i hope I compensated with blade & chicken boy) MINORS DNI
.。𝜗𝜚 ingredients。sunday and blade
#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY
A FANCY dinner in the Reverie’s most expensive restaurant is nothing but a part of SUNDAY’s “casual date” plan.
he’s a refined man, and a gentleman at that- he knows all the right things to do to swoon you. he knows how to make you flush, he knows just exactly when you expected a kiss from him. and of course, he knows what to say to make you fall over yourself, as if he has the entire script of your dialogue in his hands. things like this are so easy for him to do, and his plans always work out because of how expertly he steers you around.
unfortunately, a possibility he did not foresee was this— a drunk you, wasted and tipsy and giggling at his ‘funny chicken wings—‘ all the while carelessly leaning into him and basically being so difficult. it was difficult for him to restrain the heat that slowly pulses through his entire body when you sloppily say daring things your shy self won’t ever dare say when sober.
“sweetheart, please— we’re in a public area.” he gently tells you at first, trying to recover you back to your original state— although it’s just futile attempts of him trying to make you sit upright and not leaning into his chest because it makes him hot and hard to breathe.
“no we’re noooot, people aren’t around….” you slur, batting your eyes up at him sleepily with an attractive little smile lit up by the dim candles. and lord, he feels tricked. he feels like he’s lost to you for some reason- the way your sleepy gaze and your soft voice pulls on his restraints deceptively gently like a siren’s call- he’s glad the area is dim and people aren’t around, because the head of the oak family not knowing what to do with his evident blush across his face would give away how little control he actually has over himself.
“don’t do that,” he reprimands you. his eyes are blazing with a dark flame that’s far too intense for you to take in-
but your sluggish brain does not register anything- you only giggle and swat his arm that’s warningly on your own. “or else what?” you hiccup with a grin.
lavish silver plates clatter and fall to the ground rhythmically with your loud gasps when sunday’s cock thrusts violently into you once more, a lewd slap echoing across the embarrassingly empty restaurant— chest pressed firmly against your table while you hold onto the smooth sides to barely hang on. “—s-slow down,” you’d plead to him- helplessly dangling to the silky tablecloth, to no avail, since it slips out of your grasps easily when he pounds into you with dangerous speed.
“oh? you seemed keen to tease me earlier. are you already sober, angel?” he slows to talk to you in condescension, but when you try to tell him that the alcohol made you do that— he only picks up the pace, escalating your words into incoherent pleas of release-
“saying such dirty little words in a lovely restaurant. do I have to fuck in some manners into your pretty head?” with another violent thrust and a groan, he drags himself out against your slit to coat it with wet fluids that trickle down your sides to spill all over the table.
yes, he thinks it’s deceptive, the way your pussy struggles to take in his load, the way you mewl and squeal his name for more, drunk and needy— the way your ass moves so lewdly with the rhythm of his thrusts, skin trembling. this is sin, he knows, but you are just too beautiful for him to stop. maybe he will have to feed you more purposeful alcohol when you’re sober again, because fuck, how could you be even more obscenely seductive in this state?
#BྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིLADE
BLADE doesn’t know how to react— because his only recent alcohol experience is when he occasionally joined kafka for wine- and the woman showed no signs of being drunk at all.
but when he sees you- subdued to a giggling tipsy mess, his mind draws a blank. What was he supposed to do? he calls your name out briefly, then realized you were too busy burying yourself in his arms like a cat, smiling dreamily at him while telling him his eyes look so pretty today.
he doesn’t like the way his chest tightens up when you say that. he doesn’t like the way he feels so out of control as if the mara is actually taking him over- guiding his hands to tighten around your waist, possessive touches that make you squeal.
“stop that,” he mutters, indirectly at you and at himself.
“stop what, bladie?” you ask with a playful kiss on his jaw, which visibly tightens. “oh come on, don’t be so uptight. didn’t you plan this date?” you continue to trip over your words and droop all over his arms like pudding so bad that blade had to press your back against him so you won’t tip over.
he did plan the home date, just by Kafka’s constant teasing. she’d told him that wine was the perfect idea, that they would be able to have a “heartfelt one on one conversation.” he thought that part meant you would be able to be coherent but unfortunately no, now you’re drunk and illogical and basically his entire plan to talk to you seriously about engagement just went downhill.
“we have to talk,” he says directly, although his voice comes out so weird, as if it’s being strangled. the weird heat in his body spreads violently when you turn around to face him with a little lovely smile, eyelashes drooping, hands so sneakily fiddling with the hem of his belt.
“what could you possibly want to talk about right n—ngh!”
your sentence goes unfinished, and the next thing you know, your face is pressed flat against the cushion couch. you can’t see anything at all, but you hear hasty movements and a belt clanking to the floor, and suddenly his cold hands are right on you, veiny fingers tracing the outline of your puffy clit before hooking up the strap of fabric with a finger to tear it easily.
when you continue to beg him for an answer, he shuts you up with his thick cock that wedges its way into your gummy walls, stretching you all so suddenly to make you gasp into the pillows.
“b-blade,” you whine, “-s’ too big.”
“ill make it fit,” he says simply, but the primal groan beneath it lets you know he’s not going to stop until he fits it in.
he buries into you at a cruelly fast pace, too lost in his own euphoria to hear you whimper and sob how much it’s hurting. aeons, why is he doing this just now? the way you clench around him draws out a lengthy groan, leaning against the table to calm himself down from such an arousing sight of glistening moisture soaking his cock nicely.
the cold air tickling your ass disperses quickly with his animalistic thrusts that give you burning heat, fucking out your constant whimpers and squeals that you’re going to cum, and he lets you cum, hastily pounding himself in to relieve the bothersome blistering arousal that spurts all over your walls to paint them his.
now he knows that kafka fucking did plan this out, but he’s not angry. in fact, he is almost thankful she set him up, because good lord, he knows he won’t ever be satisfied until your holes are stuffed full with his cum.
#𐙚.。articles#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail smut#hsr sunday smut#sunday x reader#sunday smut#hsr Sunday x reader#hsr smut#hsr x reader#blade x reader#blade smut#blade x you
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Bruce had never been to The Eclipse before.
The club was similar to that of a gentleman’s club from the starting years of America, filled with dozens of tables all curved and ready for a game or feast. The three floors of the place each had a game room, a bar and a section for private rooms for the more seedy type of talks to be had.
It was one of the few non-criminal funded place in Gotham that was still rich. Deals definitely went down, but it was more fitting for gossip that anything else.
Often people went there for catch ups in a refined setting.
Bruce was there for a catch up, or more accurately, a reuniting with his son.
Tim had sent Bruce a time, date and location and said he was only going to meet with him and no one else. Considering Bruce hadn’t seen his beloved son in nearly four years, including his time in the time stream, he accepted without argument.
Tim said he would look different but that if Bruce was as good of a detective as he says, it wouldn’t be a problem.
Bruce had no idea what his son meant until a woman let him inside and told him that ‘Drake had asked you to find him yourself’ with a confused bend in her eyebrows.
It took him a little longer than he’d be happy to admit, although still less than forty seconds, to find his son.
Or maybe that was the wrong word now, if the regal young woman staring at her drink was anything to go by.
Like something out of a vintage movie, the woman had curled black hair and dark red lipsticks. Her dark eyeshadow matched her sweetheart collar dress, black with thick straps and tight enough that each breath was visible.
The gloves on her hand were long and black, one putting a stark contrast to the pink coloured cigarette lit in her hand.
Everything about her screamed old money.
Bruce only knew it was Tim because of the sweet blue eyes and shape of his jaw, though there was also some kind of… paternal instinct in play.
Tim only looked up when he put a hand on the rounded couch, Jim’s tearing nervously down at his distinguished looking child.
It was when she smiled, a real thing that was just highlighted by her dark red lips, that Bruce knew he wasn’t mistaken.
“Hi Bruce.”
A lighter voice, not soft so much as smooth, and nothing like the more monotone sound he was used to.
“Ti-… hi.”
She smiles and gestures for him to sit before taking a final drag of her smoke and putting it out.
Bruce stares at for just a second before looking at his child. Despite the shock of the obvious changes, he notices something far more important, “You look healthy.”
Well fed, clean, nourished.
Like she’s gotten sleep.
“I am. I’ve done a lot of work on myself and it’s paid off.”
Bruce smiles, genuine and almost a little painful, “I can see that. What… what do I call you?”
“Charlotte. Charlotte Jackson Drake.”
“A beautiful name.”
Charlotte smiles before a serious look comes over her face, “Bruce. I haven’t just changed my lifestyle and body, I’ve changed how I look at the world and I’ve come to understand a lot more in my life now.”
Never has Bruce been so attentive, ears feeling on fire as he does his best to focus on every word spoken to him.
“The main thing I’ve come to understand is you.”
Bruce doesn’t move, scared to make his daughter stop talking to him and so he just does his best to show he’s listening.
Charlotte continues, “I get why you brought all of us in. It wasn’t just to protect us from the world, but from ourselves. I can see now that you are only crazy because you’ve been given the impossible challenge of being a necessity in Gotham and the worlds survival and sanity. It doesn’t change that you’ve made mistakes and fucked up, but I get why now. You didn’t want us to apart of Batman, but we forced you, me most of all.”
Bruce is more than stunned by the honesty and understanding in Charlotte’s words, but the fact that he himself only figured that out after loosing Jason.
She smiles at him like she could read his mind, “It took me a long time and I still have anger towards you, yet I want you in my life all the same.”
A gloved hand comes to hold onto his own, delicate and gentle in a way that reminds him of his mother all those years ago.
Charlottes smiles is far too sad to be hers though, “I’m not the boy you once knew, not just because of the woman I want to be now. I don’t want to help you, to save you and parent you, I want to know you. As my father. If-if you’ll allow it?”
Bruce has cried in public before, several times in fact, but normally it’s to play up his over emotional persona.
This time it’s pure relief.
“Of course. Anything you want, at any pace you want, I- what ever you need.”
Charlotte smiles and squeezes his hand, “Thank you.”
Bruce eventually huffs a laugh and wipes his eyes, “god, you really are good at catching me off guard.”
She laughs, a honey like noise that makes him realises he’s never heard Tim smile and that maybe his daughter could only do that once she be same ‘her’.
The two order drinks and Bruce is given the tale of how Charlotte came to be, of how sometimes she misses being Tim but never wants to go back. He learns that she chose her name based on what she would ah e been if she was born a girl so she wouldn’t feel like she was betraying her parents.
Bruce learns that she is still a hero, operating as Red Robin, but that she focuses on prolonged crimes like trafficking rings and makes sure to take them down in on go instead of busting a few and giving the rest a chance to escape.
He’s not so happy to hear that she isn’t ready to talk to the others and that she only really talks to Cass and Duke as both of them have always been on her side and are truely her siblings.
Yet he respects it, if only to keep her close and show her the love he failed to give.
Respecting his daughter’s privacy, he doesn’t tell his other kids anything about what happened and acts ignorant when there’s a few articles about the mysterious Charlotte Drake and her distant relation to the private Tim Drake.
He meets with his little girl, his Lottie, once a week at The Eclipse and talks with her about their businesses both in the literal sense and more broadly.
He meets Bernard and can’t quite see what it is about the strange boy that makes his daughter so happy, but all he needs is to see her big smile and know it doesn’t matter.
That and the several background checks he did.
#batfam#tim drake#bat family#dc comics#batfamily#dc universe#dc#tim drake is red robin#tim drake is a menace#Bruce Wayne#bruce is a good dad#he just needs a chance#tim and bruce#papa Wayne#trans tim drake#male to female#mtf tim drake#female tim drake
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Living with Luca Headcanons
Warnings: Mildly suggestive, references to violence, period-typical sexism.
Angst and Fluff ahead.
Domestic Hcs
Luca Changretta is a man of simple, yet refined, taste. He keeps a fine house for you, nothing too showy but comfortable and far from the poverty he grew up in. He will spare no expense at keeping you happy in his home, you only need to ask. If you want a garden, he’ll pay to build a greenhouse so you can tend to your beauties year-round. If you like to bake, he’ll pay for more ovens so you can bake bread while baking pies at the same time. If you like to paint, he’ll give you a room to do just that. Luca is never grandiose about it, no. He never drops these gifts on you among others or as a big gesture. You’ll be walked to your gift with his hands over your eyes at the most.
When Luca comes home to you, it’s with slow, lumbering steps. All he does is run about the city, knocking heads and greasing palms. And this Devil gets up early, so he’s exhausted by the time he sits down in his favorite chair. However, even in his worst state he is not without elegance. Luca will sink into his chair and try to stop you as you pull off his jacket and shoes. He’ll relent in his attempts at shooing you when you offer to rub his shoulders. He can’t say no to that. Once you put your hands on him, all the weight just falls away. Your thumbs rub slow, deep circles, and his eyes close as a low groan rattles through him. He likes to take one of your hands and kiss the back of it as his way of telling you he’s grateful.
He may pay the bills… but you’re the Lady of The House. That means that nobody is allowed to disrespect you when he’s around. You don’t often get to see Luca angry, but he gets very upset when male guests curse in your presence. He swears very little around you due to being rather traditional about what is and is not suitable to say or do around women. For a guest to act that way around you is to spit in his face and tell him it’s rain. There have been guests that were escorted outside by Luca never to be seen again…
When you’re feeling down, he likes to turn on the record player and pull you into a slow dance. Holding you close as he hums along to the tune. You can’t help but throw your arms over his shoulders and sway with him, breathing in the smell of his cologne mixed with tobacco and most likely a bit of gunpowder. Luca Changretta is many things, but he’s a gentleman and a romantic over all others.
Relationship Hcs
With his trusted few (or men he’s about to kill) he likes to overshare about you. Take for instance a bookie that’s squealing to the cops. Luca and his men have busted into his apartment to interrogate him, when he sees the bookie likes to paint. Luca will take a few minutes to ask him, “What sort of paint— or medium do you prefer? Acrylic? Hm. My lady, she’s all about watercolor. What are your thoughts on surrealism?”
Luca isn’t all glamour and big gifts, he likes the domestic life with you. Marriage to him isn’t the life ruiner that it is for other men. With how brutal his work is, the mundane feels like a sanctuary. Which means he treasures every little thing you two do together, including gossip. He’ll listen to you vent while reading a book or flipping through the morning paper and actually follow along. He’s a master at multi-tasking. Mr. Changretta never forgets important dates, or names. If you complain to him about Agnes from bookclub, he will remember her and her annoying dog the next time you bring her up. However, do be careful how upset you let yourself seem about people… Luca likes to “solve your problems,” for you.
As stated above, Luca is traditional. If you are to marry him, he expects you to stop working. You can have as many hobbies as you like! But Luca Changretta will not stand for the future mother of his children to be straining herself at some job. He would honestly be offended, as he would take it as you not trusting him to provide for you. It also goes without saying that he would be paranoid that an enemy of his might be able to hurt you if you were out in the open like that. But really, his first thought would be: “What would she want a job for?”
Another thing that will bother you about him is that he is a man of secrets. Luca will not tell you what’s on his mind if it involves his “work,” or any sort of violence. He doesn’t like to bring his bloody business home with him at all. So much so, if he so gets a drop of blood on his suit, he’ll go to one of his many apartments around town and change. In your moments of insecurity during the earlier stages of your relationship, you can’t help but think he’s changing his clothes after cheating on you. It takes time for him to let you know of the darker parts of him. That said, Luca will never fully let you in. When he’s grieving or furious, he hides it. Smiling in your face the whole time he talks to you about seeing some family in England for Christmas.
#peaky blinders#peaky blinders headcanon#peaky blinders x reader#luca changretta#luca changretta x reader#Luca changretta Headcanons
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hi !! can we get ifrit having fun with phantom please ?
He gets along with everyone, immediately. There's no dancing around any of the others, no need to dip his toes into the water gingerly when it comes to getting to know them. Aeon is simply summoned and welcomed and finds it terribly easy to hit his stride from the get go.
You fit in well, Ifrit tells him at mass one night, eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles and somehow still manages to seem dangerous even when trying to appear friendly. Perhaps it's the proximity that throws him, the closeness with which Ifrit sits on the pew beside him when he's sure there could be more space. He knows very little- well, is given very little information about Ifrit, who spends more time in the back rooms and shadows of the abbey since packing away the guitar. At some point, they'll all learn what a curious creature Aeon is, prone to exploration by any means possible. It's but a small shame that it will take them a moment to catch up with how quickly Aeon is prone to explore his interests.
By the time Aether actually has a moment to tell Aeon that Ifrit is an older summon, less refined, less patient- more prone to giving in to wants with no hesitation-
Well. The warning would have gone unheeded before, but by the time it happens, Aeon's already let the curiosity steer him down a dimly lit corridor. Into a dimly lit room.
He allows curiosity to pull him into Ifrit's lap, allows curiosity to force him as if controlled by strings to run his hands up Ifrit's arms, feeling and squeezing the muscles. Indulgent, Ifrit smiles that same, unsettling smile, and adjusts so he can flex his bicep for Aeon to feel.
"How strong are you?" Aeon asks, caressing. His tone is amused and relaxed, for now. He's just so interested, excited at the thought of discovery. The nerves will come later, but they aren't here now. Later, his breath will hitch in his chest and his eyes will go wide and worried while he pants out harsh breath and his body will tremble with fear and uncertainty- of this, Ifrit will make sure. But for the next few moments, Aeon is sweet and easy prey. Food to toy with, and utterly pleased with that role. He continues feeling his arm, smiling a crooked little grin with crooked little teeth. The smile only grows when Ifrit's other hand lands heavy on his thigh.
"Stronger than you," Ifrit murmurs, nostrils flaring while he scents the air on his next inhale, breathing in the electrical sparks of arousal rolling off Aeon, so close. It would be easy to push him to the ground and take him. Easier still when that's what Aeon wants him to do.
"Oh, yeah, of course," Aeon says, pleased. "But how much?" He draws his hands to Ifrit's chest, rubs flat palms over him there, and Ifrit allows it. Fights the urge to grab and grope and take and instead- like a gentleman, allows Aeon to feel and explore and grind against his thigh enough to work himself up more. "Bet you could carry me pretty easily, huh? Even if I tried to make it difficult."
Ifrit takes a deep, slow breath in and inhales the smell of the blood rushing through Aeon's veins and doesn't bother to hide the way it makes his mouth water.
"If I wanted to," Ifrit says in a low, measured tone, "it wouldn't matter what you wanted."
Aeon hums, pleased. Gaze dropping to Ifrit's mouth, and then he ducks down for the briefest tease of a kiss, the softest most maddening excuse for one, but enough to seal his own fate.
"Prove it."
#st-speaks#ghost#the band ghost#nameless ghouls#ghost fanfiction#ghost headcanons#ifrit ghoul#phantom ghoul#aeon ghoul#ifrit/phanton#ifrit/aeon#ifrit x aeon#ifrit x phantom
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A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 26 (Masturbation)
Kink: Masturbation
Pairing: Mothman x GN!Reader
Other Kinks: Consensual Voyeurism, Mutual Masturbation
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 1091 words
Kinktober Masterlist
There is a vivid squelch, silicone against lube, when you press the dildo into you. It’s loud, wet, and perfectly lewd. The kind of sound you’d hear amped up in volume in a schlocky porno or some hentai. It’s the kind of sound you’d avoid making in fear of being caught; But your partner is gone, has been for the past 3 days, to help in the forewarning of an oncoming disaster two states over.
And gods, how you have missed him.
A year ago you never thought you’d be this touchstarved, this desperate for affection for one man’s touch. You thought that kind of stuff was only in romance novels and smutty fanfiction, accepting that no human man was ever going to be that exciting, leaving you wanting so much more.
Well, you had been right about the human part, at least.
Still, your body ached for the soft feeling of your partner's fuzzy wings, his long fingers which always held onto your waist so gently. His ruby red eyes that seemed to stare directly into your soul, always filled with a gentlemanly love, even when he had you bent over a table.
“Hmmm, Atticus.” You moan, feeling the fake balls of your toy nudge against your entrance, sunken full inside of you. “It feels so good.”
Familiar with a…tool this size, you waste no time and begin to thrust it in and out, moaning your sweet partner's name as you do. You imagine his deep, southern drawl. His claws running down the side of your face. His antennae twirling and buzzing as you come undone for him.
You even imagine the familiar tapping on your window, the one he always uses to sneak into your bed late at night. So quiet despite being 7 feet tall.
“Oh my.”
And now you can even hear-
Wait.
Your eyes shoot open, sitting up from bed, realizing you now lie spread eagle in front of your very-real boyfriend who is very much actually present in your bedroom.
His antennas tutter back and forth, hand thrown over his mouth like a shocked 50s housewife. The dildo slides an inch out of you as you scramble upward, something like an excuse on your lips, face red hot with embarrassment.
“Did you miss me that much?” Your partner chuckles, lighthearted, a matching blush lighting up his black fur.
“I-” You stutter, wondering if he heard you calling out his name. You may have been dating for a year now, but still, being caught by your refined, almost-victorian gentleman partner is a little mortifying.
“Well, if it helps.” Atticus’ voice sinks to a lower octave, big eyes narrowed like a smirk. “I missed you a whole lot too.”
The hand around his mouth slides down his chest, leading your eye across his scrumptious body, right to his unsheathed cock.
When did he even get that out?
“C’mon baby.” Atticus drawls. “Keep going.” He sits down in a corner chair, stroking his swollen dick. “Gimme a show.”
A shiver rolls down your spine.
My god, where’d he learn to talk like that?
You ain’t complaining, slipping back to your comfortable position, making sure to keep your legs extra wide. You slide the dildo all the way back in.
Atticus hums in approval, hand rubbing at his flushed head.
“How's it feel?”
“Good.” You pant, slowly rocking the dildo in and out, making sure to press it extra hard with each thrust.
“As good as mine?” Mothman chuckles, rubbing some leaking precum down his shaft with his thumb.
You eye up his cock, biting your lip.
“No.” You gasp, the dildo hitting a particular sensitive spot, sending tingles down to your toes. “Not even close.”
“Hmm, but good enough while I was away?” His eyes shoot to the clear bottle of lube on your bedside table, almost halfway empty. “Seems it got put to work.”
“Couldn’t-” You breath hitches, spreading up your pace, “Couldn't h-help myself. Missed your cock so much.”
You throw your hips up, making a show of your entrance clenching around the thick shaft of the dildo. Lube and juices trickle down the curve of your ass.
Atticus remains dignified, silent as he lazily jerks himself off. But you know the signs by now, see the way his chest tightens and his antennae twitch.
“That right?” Atticus’ other hand reaches down and begins rubbing at the slit where his cock protrudes, an extra sensitive spot you're well acquainted with. “This cock missed you too.” He finally shows some sign of his pleasure, a small hitch in his articulation when he squeezes his head. “Missed that tight hole, missed filling it up.” He rolls his neck, a move he knows you love, showing off the sinewy muscle as it cracks. “Hmm, felt like torture, not being able to fuck you whenever I wanted.”
Your wrist aches and goes ignored, your focus solely on Atticus and the burning fire in your belly. You hang off every word like it’s gospel, letting it sink into your chest and stir up your insides.
“You got me addicted, honey. How could I resist coming home early?” Precum squirts out his head, splattering the top of his hand. “Knowing I’d have such a sweet little thing to greet me?”
Your moans are breathy, vision getting fuzzy are your orgasm climbs. Your brain wants to close them to ignore everything else and focus on your high, but you force them on Atticus. His cock twitches in his hands, and you think you can make out a low “Damn.” as he jerks it.
“You gonna cum?” Atticus asks.
All you can do is nod, head stuffed with cotton and legs trembling. You imagine it’s his cock, the cock in front of your eyes, fucking you open. That it's his hands wrapped around your hips, his pelvis in between your thighs.
Atticus leans forward, cock still humping into his palm, but those big eyes only on you.
“Then cum.”
“Ahh-nggh!” You keen, hips spasming as your orgasm wracks your body, exploding across your abdomen and miking your toy.
Your limbs feel heavy, sweat dripping down your chest. The toy slips out of you and you pant, leaving trails of lube on the bed. Its that post-orgams kind of high that has you going “Wait, what was I doing again?”
“Good job.”
You don’t even have the energy to react when you feel Mothman’s palm against your face, not even wondering how he moved over so quickly, now straddling your hips.
“Now, it’s my turn.”
#my writing#reader insert#monster x reader#monster romance#kinktober#kinktober 2023#mothman#mothman x reader
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﹒ꪆ୧﹒If he could. He would﹒ꪆ୧﹒
── TWISTED WONDERLAND X READER
( RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS. AZUL ASHENGROTTO. EPEL FELMIER. )
DISCLAIMERS. This has been somewhat proofread. Not edited. Allusions to fragile masculinity ( Epel's part ). Allusions to poor self-care ( Azul's part ). Gender neutral reader. Reader is not defined by gender or any name in this.
WORDS. 582
- - -
RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS ++ royal treatment
Riddle is the type of guy who would open the door for you. Whenever you have classes together, he would often walk with you to class. Don't expect hand holding with him, how scandalous. Riddle will open the door for you like any refined gentleman would do.
If you identify as a girl, guy or any other gender identity, it doesn't matter. He will open the door for you anytime, he knows you are capable of doing it, but you must know about the germs people transfer around! He simply can't stand the thought of his rose falling sick when he could easily have prevented it.
That's not the only thing though, if you have to sit somewhere, for example a restaurant or a cafe or anything else, if he is able to, he will pull out your chair for you. Whenever the both of you meet, he will always kiss the back of your hand.
﹒ꪆ୧﹒
He always makes sure to accompany you back to the hall of mirrors whenever you go out together. If you happen to be in Heartslabyul, he will escort you to your room.
If you do any of these things for him when he least expects it, his face will be as red as his hair. You might even find him stuttering and failing to keep his composure.
! ! !
AZUL ASHENGROTTO ++ (sugar daddy) pays for you
Oh my! Azul Ashengrotto doing something for somebody without wanting something in return? How absurd! Azul thinks of you as his precious pearl, someone who is priceless.
He adores you. He will always pull out his card before you can, oh, and if you think to try to pay? He's already paid. How? You needn't question it.
Azul likes bringing you to nice places, he knows you can pay for yourself, but come on now. You deserve something nice after all the stress you go through, soo, won't you at least let him treat you?
You always take care of him, making sure he drinks water, doesn't push himself too hard, makes sure he eats and drinks the proper amount needed.
He isn't sure what else he can do to repay you, so, this is the only way he can think of. Just let him do this one thing, yeah?
! ! !
EPEL FELMIER ++ holds your stuff for you
Epel wants to be more masculine, it's well known. He hates being looked down upon by other people for being small or have feminine looks.
But, he did hear from some senior… Ahem, Lilia, ahem. That the manliest thing a man could do, was hold their significant others items for them.
Even if you are capable of it yourself, Epel will insist on carrying your items, anything. Your books, your bag(s), anything you're carrying with you out in the open.
Huh? What do you mean he doesn't need to? He wants to. At first, he does it to appear more masculine, yes, but later on, he does it because he genuinely does want to, not even for the need of being masculine.
I mean, you assure him. A lot. That you love him for him. That he doesn't need to do anything to prove himself, that he's already a man and he shouldn't care what other people might think of him, so.. At least let him do this as a small appreciation.
#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#riddle roseheart x reader#riddle x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#azul x reader#epel felmier x reader#epel x reader
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New Beginnings
tags: post Blood Brothers ending, Sean Diaz x Reader, might contain smut in future chapters, lots of fluff, romantic fluff, overall just fucking wholesome, obviously mentions Daniel quite often, sfw in the beginning, maybe nsfw in the future idk, definitely slow burn chapter summary: new ideas, a heavy storm, shadow puppets, and a slumber party. a little bit angsty but I balanced it out I promise.
Chapter three
After you and the Diaz Brothers finish up all of your Tamales and wrapped up the conversation, you return to your modest house, a cozy space with a view of the ocean. Settling down at your makeshift desk—a sturdy wooden table with a stack of papers and a laptop—you begin to structure the business plans for Diaz’s Garage. When you woke up this morning you couldn’t have thought that tonight you would be sitting at your desk returning to your role as a business manager especially not for Sean Diaz the local mechanic.
The sound of waves crashing against the shore outside provides a soothing background as you spread out notes. Ideas for expanding the garage's services and enhancing its appeal to the community fill your mind. You envision new service packages, partnerships with local businesses, and sustainable practices that could set Diaz’s Garage apart. Sean has been talking about expanding the Garage, so that would be the first idea you will be working on.
“So, regular maintenance packages…” you mutter aloud, jotting down notes and adjusting numbers on your laptop screen. The possibilities seem endless, fueled by Sean's vision and your own growing understanding of the local market. You work for hours and hours on these plans. Honestly, you totally forgot that you are a master in this field and the Diaz Garage, as well as Sean and Daniel, are so different from the workplace you had back home. It all feels so exciting and new and it makes you want to pull an all-nighter, but that wouldn’t be very smart so after a few hours and many good ideas and plans you decide to wrap things up and go to bed. Excitement bubbled within you as you drove through the familiar streets of Puerto Lobos once again, heading towards Diaz’s Garage. Today was the day you planned to present Sean with your refined business ideas, eager to discuss the future of the garage over breakfast. You sent him a text last night, asking if it would be okay to come over in the morning, and the gentleman that he is Sean answered that he would be preparing a nice breakfast and be waiting for you. The morning sun painted the town a golden hue, and the salty breeze from the ocean filled your senses with a sense of anticipation.
Pulling up to the garage, you found Sean already waiting outside, leaning casually against the wall with a charming smile on his face. His hair, tousled by the ocean breeze, only added to his relaxed demeanor.
"Hey there," Sean greeted you with a grin, his eyes lighting up as he approached your car. "You look like you've got big plans brewing today."
You stepped out of the car, returning his smile. "Big plans indeed. Can't wait to hear what you think."
Sean chuckled softly. "I’m all ears. But first, breakfast."
He gestured towards a small table set up with breakfast under a nearby awning. The spread included fresh fruit, pastries, and a pot of steaming coffee. The aroma of the coffee mixed with the salty air, created a perfect backdrop for serious business talk and playful banter.
As you sat down, Sean poured you a cup of coffee and sat across from you. "So, what’s the big idea?"
You took a sip of the coffee, savoring the moment before launching into your plans. "I’ve been thinking about expanding the garage’s services—regular maintenance packages and eco-friendly options. I’ve also found some potential partnerships with local businesses that could really boost our visibility." Daniel, who had just joined you and already started snacking on some of the fruits, perks up at the mention of new ideas. “Do you think we could start doing custom modifications? Like those cars you see in magazines?”
Sean nods, smiling at his younger brother’s enthusiasm. “Absolutely, Daniel. And I think with your creativity, we could really make a name for ourselves.”You glance at Sean, impressed by his vision and determination. “It sounds ambitious, but I think it could work. Especially with the right partnerships and marketing.”
Sean meets your gaze, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. “That’s what I like about having you around. You see the potential in things.” You feel a warmth spread through you at his words, grateful for the opportunity to contribute. “I believe in what you’re doing here, Sean. And I’m excited to see where we can take Diaz’s Garage.”
Sean nodded thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on you with genuine interest. "Sounds like you’ve been busy. I like where this is going. Sustainability is definitely a selling point around here. And custom mods? That could attract a whole new clientele."
Encouraged by his response, you leaned forward, the playful glint in your eye matching his. "I knew you'd see the potential. With your expertise and my ideas, Diaz’s Garage could become the talk of Puerto Lobos."
Sean chuckled a hint of flirtation in his voice. "Well, we already are the talk of the town, but I’m all for making a bigger splash."
The morning passed in a blur of productive discussion and shared laughter, each idea sparking new possibilities and strengthening the connection between you and Sean. His ability to blend professionalism with playful banter kept the atmosphere lively and engaging. “So, what’s next on our path to world domination?” Sean teased, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.
You laughed, enjoying the easy camaraderie. "First, Puerto Lobos. Then, who knows? The world might not be ready for us yet."
Sean leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "Well, let’s start with Puerto Lobos then. We’ll take it one custom modification at a time."
As you and Sean continue to brainstorm and outline plans for the future of the garage, the sky outside begins to darken, signaling the approaching storm. “Looks like a storm’s coming,” Daniel says, worry creeping into his voice.
Sean glances out the window and nods. “A big one, by the looks of it. Maybe we should start securing the place.” Well you think to yourself, this took a quick turn. Nonetheless, you quickly get up from your seat and immediately begin to help.
You and Sean quickly begin preparing the garage for the impending storm. You help move the more valuable tools and parts to higher shelves, while Sean checks the drainage around the building. Daniel, sensing the urgency, pitches in without hesitation. For the whole time that you have been living here in Puerto Lobos, the weather has always been nice, of course, there were some rainy days but Daniel and Sean sure seem to be preparing for the end of the world.
As the wind picks up and the first drops of rain begin to fall, you realize the storm is going to be worse than you all anticipated. The town’s streets quickly become rivers of muddy water, and the power flickers before finally going out. The Garage is pitch Black and you now really have to squint your eyes in order for you to see something. You wish you could at least grab some candles, but there is just not enough time, the rain is already pouring so heavily you are scared it might flood the whole place.
“We need to get the sandbags,” Sean says, his voice steady but urgent. “We keep them in the back for situations like this.”
Together, you and Daniel follow Sean to the back of the garage, where you haul out heavy sandbags and position them around the garage’s entrance to keep the water out. The rain pounds down harder, and the wind howls through the trees, but the three of you work in tandem, your efforts synchronized.
“Grab that side,” Sean instructs, pointing to a particularly heavy bag. You and Daniel lift it together, your muscles straining but your determination unwavering. The storm’s fury outside seems to strengthen your resolve.
As you work, you notice Daniel’s hands shaking slightly, his eyes darting nervously at the storm outside. You exchange a concerned glance with Sean, who gives you a reassuring nod.
Inside the garage, the three of you take shelter as the storm rages outside. The power outage leaves you in near darkness, save for the occasional flash of lightning illuminating the room. You find a few candles and light them, their warm glow creating a small island of light in the otherwise dark and stormy night.
Daniel huddles close to you and Sean, his fear evident. “I really hate storms,” he admits, his voice small. Poor Daniel you think to yourself. When you were a little kid you also always were scared of these kinds of storms, especially thunder used to give you the heebie-jeebies.
Sean wraps an arm around his brother, pulling him close. “Hey, we’re safe here. The garage is sturdy, and we’ve done everything we can to keep the water out.”
You reach out, placing a comforting hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Think of it as an adventure, it’s like we’re on a mission to save the garage from the storm! And we’re winning. We’re here together, and we’ll get through this.”
Daniel nods, trying to be brave. “Yeah, like a mission. We’ve got this.”
As the storm rages on, you all sit close, the howling wind and pounding rain a constant backdrop. To lighten the mood, you start sharing stories.
Trying to cheer Daniel up, you say, “I remember one time during a blackout, my friends and I made shadow puppets on the wall. It was silly, but it made us forget the storm outside.”
Daniel manages a small smile. “Maybe we should try that.”
Sean grins. “Why not? It might be fun.” He turns to you, a playful glint in his eye. “Got any good shadow puppet skills to show off?”
You laugh, glad for the distraction. “I might have a trick or two up my sleeve.”
As you and Sean make various shadow puppets on the wall, Daniel’s laughter gradually replaces his fear. The tension eases, and the storm outside becomes a distant worry. The living room feels less like a refuge from the storm and more like a sanctuary of shared strength. Hours pass in a blur of stories, games, and moments of quiet contemplation interrupted only by the storm’s relentless assault outside.
Eventually, exhaustion catches up with you all. Sean looks out the window, the storm still raging with no sign of letting up.
“I can’t let you drive back home in this storm,” he says, his voice carrying genuine concern. “It’s too dangerous out there right now.” You glance outside at the torrential rain and nod in agreement. “Yeah, it’s pretty wild out there. I don’t think I’d make it far.”
Sean nods thoughtfully, then stands up with determination. “I’ll set up the couch for you. It’s not much, but at least you’ll be dry and safe here.”
Grateful for his concern, you offer a faint smile. “Thanks, Sean. I appreciate it.”
He nods, his expression softening. “Of course. We’re all in this together.”
With careful steps to avoid the scattered tools and equipment, Sean clears a path to the couch in the living room. He pulls out a blanket and fluffs the pillows, creating a makeshift but comfortable spot for you to spend the night.
“There,” Sean says, gesturing toward the couch. “It’s not the four seasons, but it should do the job. Get some rest. We’ll figure things out in the morning.” As you settle onto the couch, Daniel stands nearby, looking a bit hesitant. “Are you going to be okay?” he asks, his voice tinged with concern.
You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine, Daniel. Thanks for asking.”
Sean ruffles Daniel’s hair affectionately. “Alright, bud. Time for bed. We’ve all had a long day.” Daniel reluctantly heads to his room, and Sean lingers for a moment, his gaze meeting yours. “Goodnight,” he says softly. “If you need anything, my room’s just down the hall.”
“Goodnight, Sean. And thanks again.”
Sean gives you a warm smile before heading to his own room, leaving you in the quiet and comfort of the living room. As you drift off to sleep, the storm’s roar outside gradually fades into a distant rumble, replaced by a sense of safety and gratitude for the unexpected refuge found in the midst of the tempest. Hours later, you’re jolted awake by a loud crash of thunder. Disoriented and groggy, you struggle to get your bearings. The room is dim, lit only by the flickering light of a candle. The storm outside is relentless, the wind howling like a wild beast, and the rain pounding against the windows in a chaotic symphony.
Suddenly, you hear the unmistakable sound of Daniel’s voice, filled with fear. “Sean! Sean!” His voice is a high-pitched wail, cutting through the storm’s roar. You sit up, your heart racing, and see Daniel standing in the hallway, his small frame shaking visibly with fear.
Sean, ever vigilant, is instantly alert. He emerges from his room in a rush, his eyes wide with concern. “Daniel, it’s okay. It’s just a storm,” he says, wrapping his arms around Daniel in a protective hug. “You’re safe. I’m here.”
You rise from the couch, feeling a deep sense of empathy for the frightened boy. Moving to stand beside them, you gently place a hand on Daniel’s back. “Hey, Daniel,” you say softly, your voice calm and soothing. “We’re all here, and we’re all safe.”
The three of you move back to the living room, where the flickering candlelight casts long, comforting shadows on the walls. The storm’s rage seems slightly muted within the warm, dim glow. Sean guides Daniel to the couch, his arm still wrapped around his brother’s shoulders. You sit beside them, your presence a steadying force.
“I’m sorry,” Daniel whispers, his voice trembling as he looks up at you both. “I just… I got so scared.”
“It’s okay, buddy,” Sean murmurs, pulling him close and ruffling his hair gently. “Storms can be really scary. But we’re together, and that’s what matters.”
You nod in agreement, giving Daniel a reassuring smile. “Yeah, and we’re not going anywhere. We’ll stay right here until it’s over.”
Daniel looks up at you both, his fear slowly subsiding. “Can I stay with you guys?” he asks, his voice small but hopeful.
“Of course,” Sean says immediately, his voice firm and comforting. “We’ll all stay right here.”
The three of you huddle together on the couch, the storm’s fury raging outside but feeling less threatening with each passing minute. You start sharing stories again, trying to lighten the mood and distract Daniel from the storm. Sean tells a funny story about their old neighbor in Seattle who used to garden in his pajamas, making Daniel giggle despite himself.
You join in, sharing a silly memory from your own childhood, and soon the living room is filled with soft laughter. The candlelight dances across your faces, casting a warm glow that contrasts sharply with the storm’s cold, harsh presence outside. The howling wind and the thunder’s roar become background noise as you all focus on the stories and each other’s company.
As the night wears on, Daniel’s eyelids grow heavy, his fear slowly giving way to exhaustion. Sean wraps an arm around his brother, pulling him close, and you find yourself leaning against the armrest, feeling a sense of peace despite the storm outside.
“Remember that time we camped in the backyard, and the tent collapsed?” Sean asks, his voice soft and filled with nostalgia.
Daniel nods sleepily, a small smile on his face. “Yeah… you blamed it on a bear,” he mumbles, snuggling closer to Sean.
Sean chuckles. “It was probably just the wind. But you were so brave.”
You reach out and gently squeeze Daniel’s hand. “You’re brave now, too. Storms can be scary, but you’re handling it really well.”
Daniel looks up at you with sleepy eyes, his fear almost gone. “Thanks,” he whispers. “I feel better with you guys here.”
As the storm continues its relentless assault outside, exhaustion eventually overtakes you all. Sean, Daniel and you nestle together on the couch, finding warmth and safety in your closeness. The candle burns low, its light casting a gentle glow on your faces.
The last thing you hear before sleep claims you is the steady rhythm of rain against the windows, the wind’s howl gradually fading into the background. The warmth of the Diaz brothers by your side and the knowledge that you’re all in this together brings a deep sense of comfort and peace.
authors note: hihi i hope you guys liked this chapter, I mean whats a better way to get to know somebody than being locked up because of a huge storm right? anyway even though Daniel is already sixteen in this fic he will always be a little kid deep inside of my heart. I cant wait to continue this fic and I am excited to hear about your opinions.
#sean diaz#lis2#life is strange 2#lis2 sean#lis2 sean diaz#daniel diaz#fluff#sean diaz fluff#sean diaz x reader#sean diaz fic#lis2 daniel#lis 2 fic#life is strange#life is strange 2 fic
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Dream Record #2 - Boothill
Synopsis- you meet the cowboy you can't stand while reuniting with your friends.
Tags- fluff, boothill acts like you're best friends while you can't stand him, affectionate boothill
wc- 1.3k
a/n- first boothill fic! i, contrary to how i wrote the reader, love this cowboy. he was my first lim 5* and carries me in game, lol. Again, not experienced with writing, please forgive any errors.
"Nice to see you, ___."
The trailblazer greeted you warmly. You had come to visit your friends on the Astral Express today. Upon entering, you see a gorgeous lady clad in white and a refined older gentleman chatting with who you presumed to be the conductor- you'd heard that Conductor Pom-Pom was a creature similar to a rabbit, nearly stuffed animal-esque, yet seeing such a small and adorable creature piloting a large train came as quite a shock.
"Ah! Is this your friend?" Spoke the lady in white. "It's nice to meet you! My name is Himeko, and this is Welt Yang." She gestured to the man standing next to her.
"Ah, nice to meet you, Miss Himeko and Mr. Yang, I'm ___." You politely greeted the two with a firm handshake. "I recently met the Trailblazer and the other two back on my home planet and thought it would be nice to visit this Astral Express I've heard so much about. It's quite impressive!"
"Of course it's impressive! The Astral Express carries the Nameless, after all!" The conductor stepped forward. Hearing them actually speak sent another shock through your mind.
"...And I suppose you are conductor Pom-Pom?"
"That's right! Why do you sound so confused?! Pom-Pom can easily run a train!"
The rabbit-doll conductor began to tell you off- something you'd later learned to be quite the normal occurrence around here. In the midst of your one-sided squabble, you hear a familiar voice call out to you.
"Well, fudge, guess who's here!"
Boothill casually slung an arm around your shoulder. Of course you just *had* to run into your least favorite cowboy in here of all places. "Ugh, hi, Boothill..." You scoffed, trying to inch out of his iron grip.
"Haha, funny seein' ya here, sweetheart. What brings ya here today?" The steel cowboy inquired.
"Well, I was here to visit my friends on the Astral Express when a certain cowboy decided to show up." You sighed at him, sick and tired of somehow meeting him everywhere you went. "Well fudge, ya don't gotta be so cold! An' here I was, all giddy to see my friend..."
A sharp reply nearly left your lips when you saw three people walking towards you. Finally, the Trailblazer, March 7th, and Dan Heng had finally come to save you...
"Hey, ___, you know him?" March 7th inquired. "Unfortunately, I do." You took the opening to slip away from Boothill, leaving him with a disappointed expression lingering on his face. "I've had the misfortune of seeing this cowboy everywhere I go for the past while, might have been a year or two at this point."
"It seems like you two get along well," Dan Heng interjected. You deadpanned at him, not knowing whether he was serious or not. "We were just talking before you got here, why don't you come sit down?" March offered, trying to alleviate the tension. "Yeah, let's go." The Trailblazer finally spoke, pulling on your arm.
You really thought they were trying to pull you away from Boothill, but no, you got sat next to the "fudging" cowboy. Well, no use running now, you'd just swat him if he tried to pull any punches.
"Soooo, ___, how've you been?"
"Would you like some coffee?"
"Our last stop was the planet of festivities, Penacony..."
It felt like you had been talking for hours when March stood up, stretched, and declared she was going to bed. After all, the Nameless crew- likely just meaning the Trailblazer and March- had an expedition planned for your home planet tomorrow! You bid March farewell, and soon after, Dan Heng went back to his room, leaving only you, the Trailblazer, and Boothill.
"Do you two want some tea or snacks? I have some new tea that I can go fetch..." You wanted to refuse so badly, just so you weren't left alone with this silly excuse for a man that was Boothill. Unfortunately, your stomach demanded otherwise, leaving you two alone in an uncomfortable silence. Boothill was playing some game on his phone while you stared at the wall.
"Hey, ___." Boothill called out in a voice barely above a mumble. You cocked an eyebrow at him, wondering what he was going to ask. "You don't really hate me, do you?"
You'd thought to yourself that you despised this man many times before, so why now were your words getting caught in your throat? Well, you've spent quite a bit of time with him, perhaps he's grown on you. You quietly sighed before answering in a barely audible tone, "No."
Boothill paused before a small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He'd never say it, but he was real happy that someone he quite liked didn't hate his metallic guts. "That's good."
He resumed playing the game on his phone. After a couple minutes passed with no sign of the Trailblazer, you leaned over to watch whatever Boothill was doing on his phone. "Ya interested in this here game? Well, lemme tell ya about it, it's been eatin' up my idle time like no one's business." You listened to him ramble about his new favourite game, somehow decently invested.
"And it'll never kill my phone! I've got a charging port built in and all, so I can charge my phone anytime." ...Would he ever quit yapping? You just listened to him, silently nodding, and after a good five minutes he finally took the hint and shut up, letting you watch him in peace. Seriously, where was the Trailblazer? Had they run into trouble? You decided to send them a text, not wanting to wander anywhere you shouldn't on the express. Perhaps, deep down, you didn't want to leave Boothill's side now, either.
You started to drift off when you felt a cold, hard hand gently grab your shoulder and pull you. Your head landed on Boothill's shoulder, which was not-so-surprisingly a semi-uncomfortable pillow. This time, you didn't smack him. You didn't scold him or jump up. You just laid on his shoulder, occasionally moving to snuggle into his side a bit. He chuckled, stroking your hair.
*Click.*
Of all times the Trailblazer could've shown up. They had taken a picture of you in this state, and to make it worse, March was right behind them.
"Ugh, okay you lovebirds, I regret getting back up." March stormed back to her room, trailblazer standing in the doorway, giggling. You jumped up and ran towards them. "Hey! It's not what it looks like, I can explain..." The Trailblazer only responded with a laugh, placing a bag of chips in your hand and telling you to sleep well for the expedition tomorrow. Resigning to your fate, you turned around and walked back to the couch.
Boothill's hat was jammed in front of his face, leaning down. Guess he was also about to die from embarrassment. You gently removed the hat from his grip, revealing his bright red face. "Hey, give that back, ya little muddle fudger!"
You two managed to forget your embarrassment for the time being and go to sleep. Boothill leaned back,one arm slung around the back of the sofa, the other cradling you as your head rested on his legs. Your sleep, although long and uninterrupted, was plagued with nightmares of your embarrassment.
In the morning, you grabbed your phone, seeing a message notification from earlier that night. The message was an image from the Trailblazer? You opened it, only to see the picture of you dozing off on Boothill's shoulder the previous night, and all your embarassment came flooding back.
Rather than shutting your phone off, you hesitated and saved the image before standing up and smiling at Boothill, watching the latter awaken to shoot that smile right back at you.
*Maybe he could be your favorite cowboy.*
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I promise im not a bot, and to prove it i'll ask for a hanzhou kiss 🥺 doesnt have to be wholesome, just whatever strikes your fancy
🥹❤️
The first time happens thoughtlessly, almost unintentionally.
Han Ying is 14 and not yet used to his limbs after his recent growth spurt. He didn't know he could have growth spurts before he had access to regular meals. But he can, and he is sure that's why he screwed up his assignment. Regardless of the reason, he is still responsible for ruining Tian Chuang's entire mission today.
And somehow, he has been forgiven. By a man with more mercy than Han Ying knows how to handle.
Anyone else, he is certain, would have thrown him back where he came from.
On his knees before Zhou-shouling, he finds himself too overcome for words of gratitude, reaching instead for the hand hanging idle at Zhou-shouling's side. He grips it in both of his. It's instinct; hasn't he seen so many servants do something like this when their masters bid them?
Han Ying's lips press into the soft skin for just a second before he feels Zhou-shouling's flinch. He looks up in time to catch confusion, smoothing into understanding and...things he doesn't quite recognise.
Qin-xiongdi tells him later, eyes dancing with mirth, that he should have pressed the hand to his forehead, not his mouth--except he shouldn't have done anything of the sort actually and he really has so much to learn about living in society, doesn't he?
Han Ying nods absently, because it's true, but he goes to bed with cheeks warm from the lingering memory of pressure on his lips and the untameable thoughts of a 14 year old mind.
The second time cannot be called an accident, mere months after the first. But neither is it calculated.
They are celebrating Zhou-shouling's twentieth birthday. Or rather, Zhou-shouling and Qin-xiongdi disappeared up to the palace early in the evening to celebrate and Han Ying has waited up alone for sounds of their return, vigilant, something he pretends is not yearning sitting heavy in the aching pit of his stomach.
When they do return it is...surprisingly loud.
Han Ying is very good at what he does, and still there are days when he cannot hear Zhou-shouling approach. The man is not just merciful, not just understanding and patient and full of barely-subdued humour, but also a refined gentleman, clever and skilled beyond measure.
So why is it that tonight Han Ying can hear not only Qin-xiongdi's clomping but Zhou-shouling next to him, stumbling?
He's out the door and down the hall in an instant, adrenaline pumpung, imagining the worst, imagining Zhou-shouling limping, covered in blood--
"'S Ying'er! What're yeu--you--out of bed! Doing! Hah!"
Han Ying stops in his tracks as a thoroughly wasted Zhou Zishu collapses against his hiccoughing, giggling shidi.
"Shixiong got--hc!--he got so drunk," Qin-xiongdi exclaims in the worst loud whisper Han Ying has ever heard. "Can you--hc!--believe it, Han Ying?--hc!"
Well, certainly he can, because it's right before him. What he can't really quite come to terms with is the fond, playful tone wrapped warmly around the unfamiliar Ying'er.
But when his two superiors almost fall over on their next step, Han Ying collects himself and steps in to relieve Qin-xiongdi of his task before he sends them both toppling to the ground.
"Shoul' get that boy some...that boy some more..." Zhou-shouling doesn't finish his thought, trailing off into a sigh as Qin-xiongdi leaves.
One hand grasping a limp arm, one hand firm on broad leather, it's quick work to get Zhou-shouling to his own rooms. But it's also so much closeness--too much for Han Ying to process: a head lolling onto his shoulder; hot breath at his neck and the smell of alcohol; warm weight against his side, so effortlessly trusting.
Ying'er.
Easier to slide under the mantle of duty and attentiveness than even acknowledge it as real, so in silence, he readies Zhou-shouling for bed; without Qin-xiongdi's energy, he seems content to simply drift.
Hydration--water droplets running down the corner of red lips, a strong chin--
Belt--hard leather hitting the floor, a quiet exhale of relief, a soft hum of contentment vibrating under his fingertips--
Boots--what if he slipped and touched that leg--what if he looked up from where he's kneeling and realised the position was just like--
Han Ying, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek, tips Zhou-shouling over onto the bed and lifts his feet up to settle him properly. He's practically asleep already, his breathing deep and slow, stray hairs wisping around his cheeks.
Hands, resting easily across his middle. Han Ying lifts them up to tuck the blanket in under them. But perhaps he has tried too hard to not think at all tonight because as he goes to put them back down, determined to not notice Zhou-shouling's exposed neck, he finds himself ghosting his lips across cool fingertips.
What--what is he doing?! He freezes, drops Zhou-shouling's hands as though burnt, and looks up, breath caught.
But his shouling is still fast asleep. Fast asleep and drunk besides, his brain finally catches up and reminds him. Han Ying lets out his breath. He has no right to such intimacy, but he's been given a stay of execution tonight. He had better not waste it.
Carefully, he flees to his own room and doesn't think about anything else at all.
The third time...Han Ying cannot even guess how the third time comes to be.
He is young, and he strives to be good, to be the best. If not in skill than in obedience. It's no longer about debt, it's about loyalty.
But he is 15, going on 16, and even he cannot beat out of himself the independent streak that kept him alive on the streets all those years.
So he finds himself again on his knees, explaining his actions.
"You are right to tell me the truth the first time."
Who would dare try to lie to Zhou Zishu?
Something of his thoughts must show on Han Ying's downturned face because the man in question snorts lightly and adds, "Not all your fellows are as clever as you."
Han Ying keeps his head bowed, but tension drains from him; he would not be receiving such praise if he were seriously in trouble.
"Your actions are understandable, but not permitted," he is told. "I expect that the next time someone pushes you to the point of retaliation, I will not hear about it."
It takes a second for Han Ying to process the precise words he's hearing. But he cannot be mistaken; there is nobody more exact with his words than the exacting Zhou-shouling.
"Yes, Zhuangzhu," he ventures.
There's an unmistakable note of amusement when Zhou-zhuangzhu confirms, "Consider it your mission."
Permission, then. Permission to do whatever he wants, so long as he doesn't get caught. Han Ying didn't think he could adore him any more, but he does. Every day.
"Yes, Zhuangzhu."
"Come on, then."
And he looks up at last, but he does not see his zhuangzhu beckoning him to rise. Instead he stands directly in front of Han Ying, one hand slightly stretched toward him, palm still facing down. Han Ying furrows his brow.
"Zhuangzhu?"
"Don't tell me you suddenly don't know what to do," Zhou-zhuangzhu says, "Ying'er."
Certainly, he isn't...?
But there's a challenge behind his eyes, sparkling a bit, so similar to the way his shidi looks when he dares Han Ying to do something a bit reckless. Han Ying swallows, but reaches out his hands; he is not a coward.
He kisses Zhou-zhuangzhu's hand and as if they have done this a hundred--a thousand times before this, Zhou-zhuangzhu detaches himself with grace and waves Han Ying to stand.
"Very good. Go report for your chores."
Reeling, Han Ying does.
After that...after that, Han Ying has the great luxury to lose track. He belongs to Zhou Zishu in a way no other Tian Chuang operative does and he may not be one of the Siji Shanzhuang disciples, or even their disciples, but he is something, and there is rarely a time he finds himself on his knees that he is not allowed the privilege of that kiss.
He is 16 and sent to his knees with a sharp word after raising his voice to his zhuangzhu; his kiss is barely-there, ashamed and still prickling with discomfort, but no less sincere.
He is 17 and accepting his promotion; gratitude wells up in him and he allows it only to show in this gesture, determined to keep composure and make Zhou-zhuangzhu proud.
He is 18 and kneeling in spite of his broken leg, true failure heavy on his heart in a way he could not have imagined four years ago; he presses his bloody lips to a hand that he pretends is not ever-so-slightly trembling.
He is 19 and his heart stops in his chest every time he sees Zhou Zishu do, well, anything; he makes every excuse to kneel in his presence, for any reason, just so he can look up expectantly for the hand that is never denied.
He is 20 and letting his lips linger every time a bit longer, leaving these unspoken feelings in the sacred space between them--the only indulgence, he has realised, that either of them will ever allow.
He is 21 and Zhou-zhuangzhu has begun turning up drunk at his doorstep, not from any party he knows about; he leaves the kiss that is his by rights even on the nights Zhuangzhu is too far gone to notice.
He is 22 and no matter how severe Zhou-zhuangzhu gets, no matter how cold, he does not forget to give Han Ying his hand. He is 22 and gives Zhou-zhuangzhu the fullness of his fealty--as if there was ever any doubt he had it--and seals it in secret between them with the briefest of contact. He hopes it is not a greater burden than it is a tool.
He is 23 and Zhou Zishu is gone.
It is only then that Han Ying realises he lost count.
Each week that passes after that, he feels more and more bereft. It should seem silly, or stupid, that he misses something so ephemeral and ill-defined, but it's the most serious thing in the world. It never needed definition or explanation. And it was all he ever asked. All he wanted: to be allowed to cherish, even if not to be cherished in return.
He doesn't shirk his duty, but he loses all trace of satisfaction in it and there is a permanent tension between his shoulders that takes up residence and will not go.
But the worst is yet to happen, because the worst possible thing is the day he finds Zhou Zishu in the forest, heart full of relief and far too much else. Han Ying kneels on the rough ground, strung taut like a bow, and Zhou-zhuangzhu...pulls him to his feet.
And again, even when his companion has left them to their own devices.
And a third time, in Han Ying's own room.
For the first time in almost a decade, he didn't dare touch his drunk zhuangzhu more than necessary to lay him down in bed.
And then Zhou Zishu walks away from every declaration Han Ying frantically tries to make verbal, leaves him there drowning in the void between them.
That could have been the end of it. If it weren't for a collective display of quick thinking and good timing, it would have been; Han Ying is not easily deterred once he has set his mind on something. Not even when faced with the price tag of his own life.
Zhou Zishu should have known that, he thinks, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking down at his...his Han Ying, whatever else he is to him now. It's not fair that he looks so peaceful in his healing slumber when Zhou Zishu is sure his own pulse still hasn't slowed from the clawing panic underneath his skin these past few terrible, frenetic days.
Wu Xi assured him that the little fool will be fine, and should wake any time now. Zishu is reluctant to leave his side before then. Which is convenient, because Wen Kexing of all people has snubbed him, refusing to have a civil conversation until he's "done right by Ying'er" and refusing to even let him at their own disciple.
What the hell did Wen Kexing get out of Han Ying when he was dying, anyway?
It doesn't matter. What matters is that he didn't die.
Zishu perhaps deserves whatever passing ire Lao Wen wants to throw him on behalf of Han Ying who is too...Han Ying to do it himself.
Curling his hand around the still one at rest, reassuring himself of its continued warmth, Zishu watches the blanket rise and fall steadily in the afternoon sunlight.
Perhaps Han Ying was foolish, but if the servant is a fool than the master is bound to be a bigger one. And he was an absolute fool to send him away, to think that if he just tried hard enough, he could truly push Han Ying out of his life and into his own, somewhere off the road to hell. He was a fool to think Han Ying wouldn't just throw himself down that path all the harder. He would burn himself out like a star for Zishu at a moment's notice, even if he believed Zishu didn't care about him at all anymore.
What would Zishu do, if their roles were reversed?
What hasn't he threatened to do for Lao Wen, for Chengling? What hasn't he already done in this life?
For the one who has never so much as faltered a single step, no matter where Zishu led? For the one who tempted him longer than he ever should have allowed? For the one he can rely on at the worst of himself? He knows the answer already.
Han Ying shifts, just slightly, but Zishu can feel the movement ripple on the bed and he is prepared for the groggy, "...Zhuangzhu?"
He has had long enough to contemplate his response.
He lifts Han Ying's hand in his own and without preamble presses a kiss directly to the back of it, holding it through Han Ying's flinch and sharp indrawn breath. Han Ying's other hand is raised as if to do something and he takes advantage of it, drawing that one in for its own display of affection.
Through it all he keeps eye contact, watching the journey of Han Ying's face--mouth open just slightly, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and then narrow, calculating too much on a mind too fresh from sleep.
"I owe you two, Ying'er," Zishu offers simply.
Han Ying's face is red but he's always been a bit quicker than Zishu expects. "I don't get anything for almost dying?" he manages with a hoarse voice.
Zishu snorts. "No. You know well that I don't reward such folly." Then before Han Ying can get comfortable, he leans in closer, lets his gaze flicker down and back up with intention. Waits for the exact moment he sees the disbelief register and says, "But this is for waking up."
It's probably a reckless, ridiculous thing to do, ducking in to set his mouth against Han Ying's and forever changing something that nobody asked to be changed. But Zishu's life is full of reckless, ridiculous things now, and he can hardly claim it's the worst he's ever done. It doesn't even rank in the top fifty. He kisses him firmly, unapologetic, freeing his hands to cup Han Ying's face between them.
He doesn't stop until Han Ying no longer tastes of salt. He pulls back, hands dropping to cover the ones tangled desperately in the front of Zishu's robes.
Nonsensically, Han Ying mutters, eyes closed, "One."
#it...got away from me yeah#word of honor#shan he ling#my writing#my fic#ask game#kissing ask game#han ying#zhou zishu#hanzhou#idk what this is but it's 2600 words so i should probably reread it in the morning and clean it up for ao3 lmao#i didn't actually intend for it to be nearly as wholesome as it became along the way#but i'm not mad about it
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I've the post about how you think comps would work and we are allow to ask. Assuming I read that right.
And if so, I was wonder if you had any thoughts on how Dehya, Zhongli, Ei or Nahdia team would interact. Especially when I often joke she the bodyguards to three Archons, even if she doesn't know Zhongli was a former Archon it still funny to me.
DEHYA MY BELOVED-
I can see her being very proud of being Nahida's bodyguard. That one is obvious right off the bat, those two would absolutely adore each other.
Dehiya is thankful for the old consultant on her team. There is something odd about the man, always in those heavy robes that cover his full body - she has no doubt that out of all of them, he'd have the hardest time in the desert. And yet, the refined gentleman never seems to issue a complaint.
They've developed a kinship, she figures, of being the two mortals sided by two gods. Dehiya assumes he is the one meant to watch over the Electro Archon, just as she is the protector of Lesser Lord Kusanali. His shield is nearly impenetrable, and he is rarely ever startled... to her, it makes sense why you'd chosen him to be Eternity's guardian, even though the man hails from Liyue and not Inazuma.
They get along well, too - Ei seems to hold as much respect for him as he does for her, and the two converse with an ease that highlights the consultant's old age.
As for Nahida, she is slightly nervous. It is true that with Dehiya as her protector, and Rex Lapis raisong those shields of his, nothing will ever harm her. But she is still aprehensive to speak to the other two Archons - it has been a long time, and she has no idea how to introduce herself. She wonders if you'll give them time to play hopscotch together sometime amidst your exploration.
When you name Dehiya as the "Archons' Bodyguard", Ei is curious. She has fought for her entire life. Her skills are unparallelled. Why would she need a bodyguard? She's asked Morax about it, confused. Did you think she was weak? The old dragon had only laughed and said it was probably some sort of term of endearment - that Dehiya had been a bodyguard by trade before. Nevertheless, Ei was still curious about the woman's skill. Whenever you're logged off, the two can be found sparring. Both of them appreciate the opportunity to train.
During these times, the God of Wisdom sits next to the funeral consultant. Though reluctant at firstn their conversation ends up flowing. It is widely known that Zhongli likes to talk, and Buer, if given the chance and the encouragement to do so, will ramble about almost any topic. They have you to thank for placing them together in a team - they've become fast friends, and Nahida feels much more confident about approaching the rest of the Archons.
As for Ei and Nahida, it is almost the opposite. Both have been isolated for far too long, and neither knows how to start. The Raiden Shogun is an intimidating god, and her silence makes Nahida wonder if the ruler of Inazuma would even care to speak to her. As for Ei, she simply enjoys that Nahida has chosen to sit beside her, unaware of the God of Dendro's struggle as they both sit in silence. They eventually bond over their shared love for sweets, and as they grow closer, Nahida's worries diminish. It is not that Ei looks down on her - the Shogun is simply just as bad at interacting with new people as she is, or perhaps even worse. Kusanali is instilled with newfound resolve - she will share with the Electro Archon all that she's learnt from you and the Traveler when it comes to talking to others!
After months of traveling together, of being guided by you all across Teyvat, Dehiya has begun to suspect that there might be something odd about one of her travel companions.
You've named her the Archons' Bodyguard - Archons, plural - so what is Zhongli's role? The more she learns about the Shogun, the more she wonders why the Electro Archon would even need a bodyguard, let alone two.
Plus, the man's occupation makes no sense whatsoever. How does a funeral consultant learn to fight like that? He wears gloves, so she cannot thell whether his hands are calloused, but she's willing to wager they might be - he swings his polearm with an ease that tells her he is an experienced fighter. His dominion over his element is astonishing, and there is something... off, about how both her Archon and the Shogun talk to and about him.
Maybe one day one of them will slip off and call him Morax in front of her. Or maybe one day you'll tell her who he is. Either way, Zhongli drfinitely won't open up - both to preserve his secret identity, and because he knows that Dehiya finds comfort in the notion that she's not the only mortal among them.
#sagau#genshin sagau#cube.answers#sagau team comps#nahida is a sweetheart and I love that every archon's voiceline about her shows that they love her#even though she herself only has one that states she'd like us to introduce her to them#zhongli thinking he's mastered the art of looking human only to drop a meteor on a hilichurl
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When they have a crush on you
SEBASTIAN SALLOW:
☠️ Sebastian is not the type to hide his crush. Even before he figures it out, everyone around him will know because of how differently he’ll treat you compared to everyone else.
☠️ He’s charming and friendly towards you, which happens to be his biggest tell as he can be quite snappy and temperamental to anyone who interrupts him.
☠️ He tends to become hyper-focused on things, whether it be spending hours with his head buried in a book or diligently searching spider-infested catacombs for a dark relic, there is no stopping him until he gets what he wants. That naturally extends to wooing you.
☠️ Suddenly he’ll find any and all reasons to spend time with you. Oh, you’re good at Herbology? It just so happens that Sebastian is in desperate need of a tutor! Oh, you’re a good duelist? Please help me take down this goblin camp real quick before meeting my family Why don’t you join this exclusive little dueling club I’m in?
☠️ Not only does he want to spend as much time with you as possible, he also wants to be as close as physically possible without crossing any of your boundaries. He’ll push you behind him when facing enemies, he’ll constantly lean against things with his arm next to your head, and he’ll offer his hand to help you up and down ledges or off your broom.
☠️ He has a jealous streak, so if he sees you becoming particularly close with anyone he deems a potential romantic threat, he’ll insert himself into the situation and either make an excuse to pull you away or pout and glare until the other person becomes uncomfortable enough that they’ll excuse themselves just to get away from him.
☠️ In any case, I don’t imagine you’ll remain in the “crush zone” for very long. Sebastian can hardly go five minutes around you without saying too much or revealing his or someone else’s secrets, let alone try to keep his feelings hidden when they grow every day you spend with each other.
OMINS GAUNT:
🐍 Ominis is a bit more subtle in his affections than Sebastian. It will take him a while before he approaches you, just so he can be sure he actually wants to pursue you and it isn’t just a fleeting crush. 🐍 He’ll sit near you, but not next to you, in classes and at meal times. He likes hearing your voice as you chat to your friends or make snide remarks about the professors when you think nobody is listening. Sebastian will often catch him smiling at seemingly nothing whenever you’re around. 🐍 You’re both desperately trying to keep yourselves awake in History of Magic one day when Ominis makes a witty comment at the expense of Binns, and he’s floored when you laugh next to him, quietly leaning over to share your own comments about the professor’s riveting tale about another centuries old wizarding war. 🐍 From that day on, Ominis went out of his way to make you laugh. Whenever he’d find you in-between classes, he would sit next to you on the bench and make passing remarks about the other students. It seemed he knew everything about everyone and had something to say about all of it, and you found his little quips absolutely hilarious. You’d always thought Ominis Gaunt was a refined, quiet gentleman, yet here he was tearing into Leander Prewett with no remorse and telling first years that the giant squid liked to feast on children walking too close to the lake. 🐍 He would be so sweet to you, doting, even. If you’d had a particularly stressful week catching up on assignments or running errands for everyone and their dog, Ominis would offer to keep breakfast for you so you could sleep for just a few minutes longer. When he notices you rushing about the castle, he’d stop you to ask if you’d taken a break that day and if you’d like to accompany him to the library for a spot of light reading. On the various occasions you’d come back injured, he would offer you his arm as a way to keep you steady. Eventually, offering you his hand or arm becomes second nature and you’ll find yourselves walking like that even when there’s no need to support you physically. 🐍 I think it would take a long time before Ominis admits his feelings. He enjoys the safety of the courting stage because his family are less likely to involve themselves. He’s also afraid you’ll reject a serious relationship with him because of their reputation and behaviour. He might huff and puff about how it’s a gentleman’s responsibility, but he’d secretly appreciate if you were the one to make the next move.
GARRETH WEASLEY:
🧪 I imagine Garreth would have to be friends with someone before he develops a crush on them. 🧪 While this social butterfly could easily make friends with a wall, that doesn’t mean he knows how to flirt with one. He’s so subtle with his intentions that it’s easy to assume he’s just being his regular, friendly self.
🧪 He would take a break from his experiments to brew you an endless supply of Wiggenweld potions for your adventures. He knew you were capable of handling yourself, but he worries about you and wants to help in any way he can.
🧪 He’d make it a point to accompany you around the castle, offering to carry your books or help with extra assignments. He’d refrain from using you as a guinea pig, but he would ask you to help him find ingredients for various potions, sometimes even at strange hours of the night. Most of the time, he has no use for the things he is asking for, he just wants to spend time with you.
🧪 Despite the Weasleys not having a lot of money, Garreth would always offer to treat you to a butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks. He often buys (and occasionally swipes) bags of your favourite sweets from Honeydukes, even though he isn’t partial to them himself. He thinks he’s being subtle by asking you to share, but it doesn’t escape your notice that he never takes a single one, instead leaving them all to you.
🧪 Garreth eventually confesses his feelings to you while drunk on the effects of Felix Felicius. He had been trying to brew it for you, knowing you had a particularly difficult mission ahead, but he had to try it first to make sure it wouldn’t turn you purple or make you break out in boils.
AMIT THAKKAR:
⭐ This poor boy somehow manages to be both a stuttering and word vomiting mess around you.
⭐ One minute he is telling you all about the great tales he plans to write, how Binns will be assigning his books to every student at Hogwarts by the end of the decade, and then you’ll give him that smile and he’s suddenly blushing and stuttering uncontrollably.
⭐ He’s most comfortable around you at night, when the stars are there to calm his nerves. This is when you’ll get to see the true Amit, the cute, gentle boy who will point constellations out to you for hours if you’re interested. Although he’d much prefer to find real constellations and their associated imagery, you can occasionally rope him into a silly game of ‘connect the stars’, only because he loves the way your face brightens when you vaguely recognise a mooncalf or niffler dotted in the sky.
⭐ He is incredibly intelligent, so if you ever need help with a subject, you can rest assured that Amit is more than willing to offer you (and only you) his tutoring services, free of charge! ⭐ Amit is 100% going to support you in all of your endeavors, regardless of how much interest he has in them himself. You play on the Quidditch team? He’ll be at every single practice session to cheer you on. You enjoy ballroom dancing in a room full of dead people? He’s now practicing in his common room every night so he won’t step on your feet (Go to sleep Amit, it’s three in the morning!). You name it, he’ll be there, probably reading a theory book about the history of the hobby. ⭐ It might take him ages, but he will 100% confess to you in the cheesiest way possible. Maybe it will be through an original poem personally delivered to you by owl, or maybe it will be through spelling “I ❤️ U” in the stars. Regardless, he’ll make sure you’ll be melted into a puddle by his sweetness.
#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy imagines#hogwarts legacy headcanon#sebastian sallow#amit thakkar#garreth weasley#ominis gaunt#harry potter#sebastian sallow x reader#garreth weasley x reader#ominis gaunt x reader#amit thakkar x reader
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Crushed 18
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, cheating, sleazy behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings.
Characters: Colin Shea, Jonathan Pine
Note: Welcome back.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
Love you like my dog loves belly rubs (that’s a lot). Take care. 💖
“Come here,” Jonathan rasps as he drags his hands over his chest.
Woozy and windswept in the afterglow of passion, you bat your lashes up at him as you lazily recline against the pillow. He wiggles his body down the bed so he lays flat. You watch him curiously and reach to play with a blond hank of his mussed hair. Never did you expect to see the refined gentleman in such a state.
“What do you mean?” You squeal.
“Here,” he slaps his chest, “sit.”
“What?” You exclaim, recoiling your hand. “I couldn’t… I wouldn’t want to hurt you–”
“Darling, quite the opposite,” he tickles your thigh.
“Haven’t you had enough?”
“Does it matter? I know you haven’t,” he purrs and wets his lips with his tongue.
“I…” your voice catches as your cheeks burn.
You go silent, contemplating his suggestion. More of a demand. As polite as he can be, he is hard to deny.
You slowly lift yourself, coming to your knees as you crawl towards him. He watches you with a glint in his eyes, humming as you get closer. He frames your hip and guides you over him, bringing you to straddle his head as you hover over him shyly.
“I don’t know, I…”
Before you can protest further, he hooks his hands over your thighs and pulls you down. You squeal as you crush him beneath you. He buries his face in your cunt, his tongue gliding into your tender folds, still shimmering with his last foray.
You let out tiny high-pitched noises as he holds you down, devouring you sloppily, shamelessly. He laps and licks and suckles until your core is alight and thrumming. He rocks your pelvis as he drinks you in, guiding your motion as you quiver and gasp for air.
It isn’t long before you’re moaning at the top of your lungs, tangling your fingers in his sweat-dampened hair, bucking your hips as you beg for more. He lifts you, tilting you over him as he trails his fingers along the inside of your legs.
He pokes along your cunt, his tongue flicking around your clit greedily. His fingers dive into you and you let out another whine. God, it feels so good. You plant your hand on the bed, holding yourself over him as he slides in and out, lapping incorrigibly as he hums.
He sucks on your bud, pulling away with a growl.
“Let me hear you, fawn,” he gropes your ass with his other hand before nuzzling your cunt once more.
You drone as he slurps and slathers, pushing you to the point of ecstasy once more. You nearly collapse over him as you cum. Your spine curls and your thighs vibrate as your pleasure stains his lips.
He slips his fingers free and his hand crawls up your back. He grabs your leg, flipping you suddenly. You exclaim in surprise as you land on your back. He bends over you, kissing along your tufted hair and quivering thighs.
“Louder,” he snarls and nips at your flesh, “louder, darling.”
“Jonathan–”
“Mm-mm,” he tuts and dips his head to tend to you again.
His tongue spread wide before swiping up, swirling and twirling, stirring you to another boiling point. You claw the sheets and arch your spine, moaning wildly as tingling waves flow through you.
“Darling…” he hisses as he parts, though not long enough for you to catch your breath.
“Jonathannn….”
He purrs as wiggles his head, hungrily smearing your juices around his face. Your breath hitches and you spasm. You cum again, losing count of how many times you’ve come undone.
“Oh, oh, oh,” you voice escapes you, louder with each cry, “oh, yes, yessssss, Jonathan.”
He pulls back and raises himself to sit on his heels. He snarls and drags you closer to him, hooking his arms beneath your knees. He folds you against him as he looks down, angling to glide along your entrance. He watches himself ease into you, inch by inch.
You writhe deliriously as he fills you. You reach to touch his stomach as he thrusts, head lolling back and forth. You wheeze between your teeth.
“Let it go, fawn,” he flutters his fingers up your stomach, “I want to hear you.”
You squeak, tiny little noises as you try to repress the flurry inside. He grips your side and ruts into you, harder as you mew pathetically. The clap of flesh mingles with his deep grunts.
“Jon— Urgh, yessssss,” you exclaim as your delight bubbles over. You can’t hold it back any longer. “Yeeessssssss,” your pleasure blooms from your chest and has you mindlessly ranting and raving, “Jon– Jon–a–Yess.”
He bends over you and slips his arms beneath you, curling his fingers over your shoulders and lifting you with him as he sits back. He moves you in his lap, tilting from below as he nuzzles into your neck. His breath dampens your skin as he huffs, the bed shaking with his fury, knocking against the wall in tempo with his need.
You fling your arms around him, hugging him tight as you cling to him, letting out a slew of desperate whines. He bites into the muscle along your neck as he slows you, teasing you cloyingly as he restrains himself.
“Not yet,” he purrs into your skin, “I’m not done with you, fawn.” He shudders as he keeps your hips rolling up, “let’s take our time…”
There’s a thunderous thumping that jolts you. As you push yourself up, Jonathan catches the back of your head. You look him in your faces, eyes round as a holler comes from just outside your apartment door.
“Keep it the fuck down!” Colin roars, rapping harder than before.
Jonathan merely snickers and before you can comment, maybe you should stop, or apologise, he smothers you with a kiss. His tongue invades your mouth as he overrides any protest you have. He fucks you slowly, dragging himself out only to snap back in. He draws away once more.
“Darling, make all the noise you like,” he slithers, “he is a paltry opener compared to us.”
🌷
“We’ll go by mine so I can pull out some fresh clothes,” Jonathan says as he stands and picks up his watch. “Shall I freshen up first or would you prefer? Rather, we might share the shower?”
You tilt your head at his offer, “we… I’m suspended. I don’t think I can go into the office with you.”
“Yes, I wouldn’t suppose either,” he grins, “I won’t be going in today. We’ve more pressing matters.”
“Oh?” You frown.
“A bridesmaid’s dress is in order,” he declares, “yes? Champagne I believe is on theme.”
“I…”
“Your sister messaged not long ago. She sent a lovely reference photo but I don’t believe the cut is quite you. Nonetheless, we will keep to the colour scheme–”
“That’s… you don’t need to worry about that. I can go by the thrift store next weekend–”
“Thrift? Darling, please, let’s not tarry. I’ll have to have a new suit cut to match. Perhaps a tawny brown lined with blue?”
“Oh, right, you’re… coming.”
“You don’t sound excited about that,” he challenges with an arch of his brow.
“I am, I just… things are still new, aren’t they?”
“Well, I did tell your mother I’d be there and your sister is expecting a plus one,” he says, “so I don’t see why you should worry.”
“I… I was just overthinking, I guess.”
“Yes, fawn, you can be overly considerate, but I like that about you,” he outstretches his hand to you, “though I suppose it’s what’s gotten you into so much trouble, as well.”
You wince. His reprimand isn’t lost on you. It’s the same thought that hasn’t left your mind in days. You asked for all of this. You couldn’t get over your own stupid crush and you let Colin walk all over you.
You take his hand. You don’t want to talk about all that. You’ll go get a dress and try to forget about it. You shimmy across the bed as Jonathan helps you to your feet.
“Well, I learned my lesson, didn’t i?” You frown.
“It wasn’t an insult, darling, I’m looking out for you,” he says, “I have thus far, haven’t I?”
There’s that edge in his voice. The one you hadn’t heard before he looked in your phone. The one you couldn’t expect. He’s nice, you’re just sensitive.
“Yes, let’s… get cleaned up,” you divert his reproach.
“Let’s,” he agrees and keeps a hold of your hand, trailing after you to the shower, “may as well get a bit dirty beforehand, hm?”
You hum and nod, hiding your discomfort. You want him but you can’t help the sting of his words, of the reminder of your mistakes. If you didn’t have him, well, this would all be so much worse.
🌷
As Jonathan drives up to the white facade of an upscale boutique, you shrink down in your seat. You don’t shop in places like this. You go to the thrift shops or hunt through the bargain racks at the mall.
“Darling,” he shifts gears and turns off the engine, “you really shouldn’t slouch.”
You fix your posture and glance at him. He doesn’t seem to notice the effect of his rebuke. It’s little things. Sit straight, oh your hair pin is crooked, don’t forget a sweater… considerate but too much.
“Sorry,” you undo your seat belt as he hits the button on his own. You wait for him to get out before you do the same, not wanting to overstep.
He waits for you before he steps over the curb, hooking his arms through yours as he leads you to the front door. He releases you only to open the door. He is a perfect gentleman, the complete opposite of Colin. How did you ever want your crass neighbour?
You enter as Jonathan follows, greeting the associates over your head. You let him lead, completely out-of-place among the sleek white mannequins and shimmering fabrics.
“Hello, we are to attend a wedding and require a dress in champagne,” he announces.
“Good afternoon,” a woman with a silver name tag on her chic black turtleneck chimes, “I’m Lucinda, I can help you.”
“Wonderful,” Jonathan puts his hand on your back, urging you forward, “I might be dated in my reference but are you familiar with Elizabeth Taylor in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof? The white dress. I believe it is a flattering silhouette for her.”
Lucinda looks between you and Jonathan, “oh, let me look that up.” She slides out her phone and keys in quickly, “oh, pretty. I think we have something.” She turns and waves you forward, “this way, please, we’ll get you a fitting room.”
You hunch your shoulders as you look around, intimidated by the headless figures in their refined drapings. Is this what he expects? What he’s used to? He must know you’re just an admin worker, not some stylish socialite. But it is just a wedding. Your sister would be disappointed if you didn’t dress for the occasion.
You’re shown to a curtained booth as Lucinda flits off. You stand just outside as Jonathan wanders around, eyeing up other garments, including a sleek camisole nightie cut to the ankle. He replaces it on the hook and moves on, stopping just before the wall of lingerie.
Lucinda returns with several hangers as he beckons to her, “would she require a shift? Or some particular undergarments?”
“Hm, well, in this cut, a corset wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Lucinda explains, “something skintone at least.”
“Mm, yes, fawn,” he calls to you, “come pick your size.”
Your cheeks sear and you bow your head down. You scurry over and sift through the hangers. He points you towards a piece close to your shade and you redirect. You pick out the right size and take it in hand. He brushes along your arm.
“Head up,” he reminds you.
You obey and go back to Lucinda, showing her your haul. She holds back the curtain for you and you quickly hide behind it. You look at the clothing before you and feel yourself crumpling inward. You are entirely out of your depth. This isn’t you.
Do you really know who you are? You’re the stupid girl who lusted after her neighbour. The idiot who got herself suspended because she just couldn’t say no. You are clueless. You need someone like Jonathan to guide you.
You undress and put on the corset. As you see yourself in the mirror, you blink several times. Oh my. You shake it off and reach for the first dress. A shade of champagne with a subtle floral pattern across it.
You squeeze into it, the waist cinched just so, the cut of the skirt emphasizing your hips, the bodice further accentuating your figure. It’s gorgeous but it outshines you. You don’t know if you can carry it.
“Darling,” Jonathan drawls as the curtain ripples, “do you need help?”
“Erm, n-no,” you stutter and poke your head out, “I don’t know… maybe a different style–”
“Let me see,” he says, “I’m certain you look spectacular.”
“Well, I just… for a wedding?”
“I can’t give my opinion if you don’t show me,” he intones.
You gulp and shove the curtain aside. You emerge, arms straight as you march forward. You fight not to wilt before his gaze. His eyes rove up and down and he rubs his chin.
“Wow,” he utters at last, “fawn, you are… breathtaking.”
“Don’t lie to me–”
“I’m not, darling, truly,” he smirks, “I dare say, the bride will me mad with envy.”
“Oh,” you pout, “Geri would be… maybe–”
“And a good thing,” he interrupts, “you should always be the rose in the bunch, fawn. Don’t you ever let yourself fade into the background.”
“I…” you look down and smooth your hands over the fabric “thank you, I… it is pretty.” Your hand catches on the tag and you glance at the price, “but– oh! I couldn’t–”
“Don’t you fret over that,” he nears and puts his hands on your shoulder, “you let me worry about it. You only need to be as you are,” he leans in and brings a bent finger under your chin, “delectable.”
#jonathan pine#dark jonathan pine#dark!jonathan pine#jonathan pine x reader#fic#crushed#dark fic#dark!fic#what's your number>#the night manager#colin shea#colin shea x reader#dark colin shea#dark!colin shea
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Dissect Me, Doctor - ,, yandere JPM with a psychologist reader
cw(s): yandere themes, dismemberment, suggestive themes, (James) necrophilia, noncon touching, cannibalism, mention of reader having breakdowns & panic attacks
✧ James found you by God's hand one fateful day. You could say it was more than a mere coincidence, eh? He had just finished killing one of the hotel guests. He was about to call Miss Evers in to clean up the mess when he spotted something sticking out of the dead gentleman's breast pocket. He plucked the card out of your pocket and read it allowed, 'Doctor...' His curiosity was the least bit piqued. Psychologists weren't exactly popular in the 1930s. The true study of the mind hadn't emerged, but James had always lived to study humans. To study their fight or flight instinct, how their bodies react to various torture methods, and how fear affects the human psyche. Perhaps he has found someone who shares his fondness for such things. It would be a great way to meet someone new. Considering Elizabeth refuses to speak with him, he has grown desperate. Not even defiling his killings tapered his already suppressed desires.
✧ He got Sally to teach him how to use this magic witch named 'Wi-fi' who owns the internet—or something like that. Most new technology is just rubbish used to get people to make inauthentic connections. Although perhaps just this once, it can be used for the betterment of his temperament. He has Sally schedule an initial appointment at the hotel. Sally uses the excuse that James is bedridden and terribly ill (non-contagious), but he hates telehealth and just wants someone to talk to in person. You were skeptical because of the rumors surrounding The Cortez, but you were in desperate need of another client, and he was willing to pay extra—a lot extra.
✧ You had your first session in his room, and you immediately got strange vibes from him. He wasn't ill, that was for sure. Perhaps he was a little pale, but he probably hasn't gotten enough sun or vitamin D lately. He was even smoking! He was sitting all relaxed on a couch, dressed up in 1930s-esque attire, with a cane leaning against his lap. He introduced himself as James Patrick March, and you immediately understood why you were called. He either has a personality disorder or is a compulsive liar. Perhaps both. You asked him simple questions, such as his real name and when he was born. You were only getting nonsensical answers. He could not have been born in the late 1800's or early 1900's; that is ridiculous!
James only felt himself grow hotter with each question you asked. It was like a fire had been lit beneath his skin, and he needed to put it out. Then you asked the question that really got him going.
"Since you refuse to use your real name, I'll just call you Mr. March. How is your personal life going? Are you currently sexually active?"
"I have peculiar interests and refined tastes. How do you modern people phrase it? 'Where there is a hole there is a goal'?"
✧ With that astounded expression on your face, he feels his urges compell him to end this lovely conversation early. That look would look perfect on your dead corpse. He takes the sabre out of his cane and tries to slit your throat; he narrowly misses. Somehow, you unlock his room door and bolt through the hallways. How promising. He walks through the winding hallways slowly. You scramble to find the exit, and he struggles with not just outright chasing you through the maze. No, he must preserve the hunt. After what feels like an eternity to you—only eleven minutes in real time—you finally trip over a stair and hit your head on the railing. Talented fox. You nearly escaped to the lobby. You are too much of a challenge to let go so easily. He's going to keep you to get his release. In more ways than one.
✧ You wake up in the middle of the night in the same room as before. It's freezing, and your clothes are nowhere to be found. Your head is pounding, and you are barely able to breathe. James drugged you with some cocktail of drugs—some legal, most not. You feel blades ghosting your body. You feel them just barely slicing into your skin. It must be sleep paralysis, you rationalize. Something whispers sweet nothings into your ears. You are barely able to discern what those words are.
"You taste... a dream."
"Never leave."
"The best prey— never leave me."
✧ You drift off once again before groggily waking up in a different room. You are still in the Cortez, now in room seventy-four. You feel much different today, weighed down and yet free. You don't have any marks on you that would indicate you were harmed last night. You feel the need to escape, but you are also incredibly confused. A maid is in your room, setting down a new set of clothes. She explains that you passed out after you tripped on a stair while leaving the session early. You accuse her of helping the strange man you interviewed who tried to kill you. She chuckles and says that you aren't his type. Her voice has a little bit of spite in it. That was the moment that you were introduced to Miss Evers. Quite possibly the only person who simultaneously envies you for getting all of James attention and pities you for your lack of self-awareness and intelligence in the situation.
✧ Before you are even able to shoo her off this JPM impersonator comes in your room and greets you. You are naturally apprehensive. He is naturally enthralled to see that his trophy prey has awoken. He cannot wait to just see how you react today. You try to leave and he explains that you never finished your session. You accuse him now of trying to murder you. He brushes it off and insists that you at least have breakfast with him before you leave. You are about to answer firmly when Miss Evers folding of a towel loudly snaps together. This 'James' scolds her and she gives him a doe-eyed look. Before you are even able to say no he is ushering you down the hallway in silken pajamas someone put on you while you were passed. The thought makes you shudder.
✧ You both were served a hearty and delicious breakfast. It isn't very filling to you, no matter how much you eat. It must be how queasy you are from yesterday. If it happened. Perhaps you had a mental break due to all the stress you have been through lately. You don't get a lot of time to think because you are snapped from your thoughts. This James speaks about your future together and how you will have a long and fufilling relationship. He asks you to give him a psyche evaluation. When you say no, he subtly threatens you with the thought of not paying because you didn't actually fill his full session. You reluctantly agree.
✧ He's both incredibly frustrated and intrigued by your persistence. How many times must he explain to you that he isn't a 'cosplayer' or someone with a personality disorder. He is simply the great James Patrick March. No matter. It will make you even more fun to play with.
"Your delusions, doctor, are clouding your mind. So I suppose I will have to make you see the truth—one way or another."
He sets up small 'challenges' to see if you can pass them. He wants to test how long your mental fortitude will hold up.
✧ The first of those was dismembering himself in front of your very eyes. He does it multiple times, and they are all random. He will pluck his eye out and stir it in his tea. He will cut open his chest and stuff his organs into your suitcase. He will remove whatever is covering his neck and finger from his suicide wound. He asks if you would like to feel it, stroke it, touch it, or play with it.
"Doctor, I understand you only deal with the human mind, but would you like to feel this and assess if it is real? Do you believe me now?"
He will stab himself in the heart during one of your sessions and tell you that this is what you do to him. In the most extreme cases, if he isn't getting your coveted attention, he will take himself apart limb by limb and place them on your bed like a cross.
✧ You begin to come to terms with the fact that, at least, this man is psychotic. Perhaps not a ghost, but definitely a killer and wickedly sadistic. You try so many of the phones in the hotel, but so many seem not to work. You try to find your way out once again, but you seem to be trapped within these walls. Which comes to one of his many other tactics: trapping you in The Cortez's hallway maze. He is able to distort the minds of his guests and make sure that they never get out. Like a rat trying to find an escape from a box maze that has no exit. He enjoys just slowly walking behind you and taking in your panic and your quick breaths when your clothing rides up on you. He is able to take a respectful peek at what he will inevitably see time and time again.
✧ He keeps you trapped in the hotel. You never even have a chance to get to the lobby. He has a nice breakfast, lunch, and dinner with you. He has his daily sessions with you. Outside of that? His torture. All of his torture. All of it. He threatens you with it subtly if you do something that he is displeased with. He'll even lock you in that death closet of his and make you stand right near the spike. Sometimes you prefer to be in there because you can hide from him. He likes it when you hide in his death traps. So he totally leaves you alone and totally just doesn't sit right outside your ability to view him.
You are coming to the point where those times when he is cordial are the times you crave. All part of his plan, of course. Although—he hopes that you will keep up the chase, he likes that fiery spirit of yours.
✧ You often find him getting release from his dead victims. You know because your relentless cycle of agony and pleasure stops. At least he doesn't force himself on you when you are awake. You end up doing your best to stay as far away as possible from him during that time. Only you always end up stumbling into the same room as him. You avert your eyes, yet he always has something cheeky to say to you.
"Ngh—darling, darling, wait! This.... this could be us. This could be me. You and me. Nothing could be a replacement for how your flesh feels against mine."
He always turns around and gives you one of those godforsaken winks of his.
✧ That isn't the only time his victims come into play. You are always suspicious of the food he serves you. It's either drugged or the meat could be made from his victims. You first learned that the hard way. You were served meatloaf, and James called in manloaf. He stated that it was made in this very hotel by the very guest who was trying to help you leave. You wanted them so bad, you can have them—in your stomach.
✧ Not even the Countess is able to help. Not that she tries. She is too busy luring more men in. She's forgotten about James mostly, except for the betrayal. She gives you a few warnings and some caution when she can. You are almost like one of her children. Perhaps she would help you if you really were in need. Maybe.
✧ You still get those sensations in your sleep. The feeling of fingertips ghosting on your figure. How the sheets seem to slip off your body. A warm presence keeps you close throughout the night. It often manifests in such strange dreams. It feels like James's thoughts are being injected into your own mind. You dream of him against you—sometimes he is brutally murdering you, and in others he is sensually caressing you. He always seems to tease and taunt you with those tantalizing images in your mind.
✧ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ — You often have panic attacks and breakdowns because of him. Your heart rate quickens as sweat rolls down your body. Your legs shake and give in. The entire hotel seems to spin around you. You have to seek him out for your own comfort. It's so twisted and vile. You can feel bile rising in the back of your throat when it happens. You almost have to crawl on your hands and knees to reach him. Yet, it feels like heaven. His skin is so soft and supple. His suit is always made of the most comfortable materials. His body is always so cool to the touch. In those moments, your body melts into his. That is, until your mind stops its dissociation long enough to realize the trauma you were going through. You are falling for him—a classic case of Stockholm syndrome. You couldn't stand for this. You need to fight against this, against him.
✧ Unfortunately, your non-belief in ghosts stops when you see multiple people you thought were dead trying to warn you. You see your patient, who was killed in this very hotel. They tell you that they're so happy to see you. They are so happy you are here with them. You have to put on your therapist hat again and calm them down. It all clicks. Other people you thought were guests here were warning you. You are being oddly welcomed into the space. The others are cautious of your presence and afraid to upset the owner, the one who holds so much power over them. That strange being that seemed to flicker in and out of your peripheral occasionally. You finally make peace with the fact that James Patrick March is indeed a ghost. You really do need to escape here.
✧ You steal the hotel's shipping schedule for their toiletries and linens. You make a plan to escape. You think you are so clever, and it really makes James hot under his white buttoned collar. He lets you think that you are so much more astute than him. It makes him a little desperate, but he won't show it. He needs your touch so badly. He needs you to love him so badly. He needs you to be his little trophy victim. He needs you to help him chase his highs. He needs you. He needs you. He needs you. You, only you.
✧ He confesses his undying adoration for you and clings to your waist as you try to walk out. He sighs and tries one more tactic before you step out the door. He promises to tell you the entire truth. You are caught off guard by this, and your hand slips off the door. He leads you to his trophy room and shows you his 10 Commandment killings. He directs you to the corner, where your body lies. You are covered in wounds that have long since dried out. Your eyes are lifeless. You have his name etched across your naked chest. You scream, shout, and sob. James gently holds you and soothes you even as you thrash, kick, and gnaw at him.
"You've been trapped here the entire time. Since that night."
As if that makes it any better. You aren't that stupid. You could connect the dots—lack of appetite, coldness, the odd sensations, everything. You are stuck with this monster for all eternity.
"Hmm, yes! I saw you and just knew that I had to have you. Have you gotten my diagnosis yet, my love? It's lovesickness, and your body is the cure."
.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐
⟿ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt33 @lacucarachapisser @etheral-moon @fear-is-truth @marchsfreakshow @girlyfart @nahoyasboyfriend
.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐
#american horror story#yandere#ahs#ahs hotel#yandere american horror story#yandere american horror story x reader#james patrick march#jpm#yandere jpm x reader#yandere james patrick march#yandere james patrick march x reader#yandere headcanons#ahs yandere headcanons#ahs headcanons#ahs fanfiction#jpm x reader#james patrick march x reader#headcanon
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First Dates (Luke, Marius, Artem, Vyn)
Cw: Fluff
NXX boys x Fem! Reader
REQUESTS ARE OPEN
Luke
Luke’s style seems to gravitate towards stuff like them park dates and county fair dates, so that’s what he does for your first
He picks you up early on a Saturday morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed. You're almost annoyed because no one should be so perky before 10 am in the morning. And he doesn’t need coffee rude
The two of you stop for a quick breakfast before descending on the theme park
After that you run through the usual culprits: twirly rides, house of mirrors, a couple roller coasters (before lunch, not after), pretending to be scared at the haunted house rides
he shows off his aim at some of the game booths winning you exactly what you want
You even manage to convince him to do face painting with you
In all honesty, it feels like being kids again. Except kids don’t hold hands and find secluded areas to make out
In the evening you find a nice little hill--scratch that, the two of you are definitely sitting next to each other on the Farris wheel while you watch the fireworks
Marius
A date with Marius is upscale. You definitely need a fancy dress which he has no problems paying for
It comes in two parts
First he takes you to an art gallery. One he totally rented out for the night
You’re more than happy to watch him smile and talk about his art. He always lights up and sometimes loses that mask of the rich little shit and it is a treat
You spend several hours there, but he’s mindful of your comfort. Heels are a bitch to walk in for long periods of time.
When you’re ready to leave, Marius takes you to a super fancy restaurant. You went a little pale when you saw where you were going, then reminded you that Marius has the money to volunteer to give you ridiculously expensive dogs. A private reservation overlooking a quiet park is no biggie for Mr. Acting President von Hagen.
All in all, it’s very nice. You can’t get out of being the object of his teasing and no matter how fancy the joint, he still gets full named.
Artem
A first date with Artem is classic. Dinner and a movie.
The two of you ended up going back and forth about who picked the movie and diner, eventually settling on you picking the movie while he picked the diner.
You did your research and picked something that would appeal to both of you. A reshowing of a timeless chick flick: The Titanic (Is the Titanic a classic in 2030?)
Artem makes sure he has plenty of tissues he knows you’re prone to crying at the end
Afterwards, you two have an in depth debate over whether Jack and Rose would have both fit on the door. He tells you that if that ever happens, he’ll make sure both of you survive.
For diner Artem takes you to a nice Mom-and-Pop restaurant. It turns out he’s been going there since he was a kid and the proprietors are really happy to see that “Artie finally found himself a nice girl. It’s about time.”
Despite their gentle teasing, the food there really is some of the best you’ve ever had
Of course, Artem drives you home himself and walks you to the door
Vyn
And last, but never least Vyn “here are my red flags” Richter
On the scale of fancy to classic to casual, Vyn ends up bringing you on a date that rates somewhere between fancy and classic. It’s classy, it’s upscale, but it’s not oozing “I run a conglomerate” either
He takes you to see a ballet or an Opera. Swan lake, maybe, Something refined, much like your date
Of course, you have very good seats. Vyn wouldn’t have anything else.
After the show, you go to a quiet, but upscale restaurant. It’s one well known for it’s wine, which the guy is an absolute stickler for.
Vyn is a complete gentleman the entire time. Really, he always is. Treating you with nothing but the utmost respect, despite his concerning manipulative tendencies and you enjoy seeing a glimpse of what Vyn is like when you’re not calling him Dr. Richter.
#I think an opera or ballet with vyn would be so fun#granted that's a type of entertainment I like anyway#And yeah I think Titanic would be considered a classic in 2030#luke pearce#xia yan#luke hcs#xia yan hcs#luke x reader#xia yan x reader#luke x fem!reader#xia yan x fem!reader#marius von hagen#lu jinghe#marius hcs#lu jinghe hcs#marius x reader#marius x fem!reader#lu jinghe x reader#lu jinghe x fem!reader#artem wing#zuo ran#artem hcs#zuo ran hcs#artem x reader#zuo ran x reader#artem x fem!reader#zuo ran x fem!reader#vyn richter#mo yi#vyn hcs
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Where the Petals Cascade - Chapter One
Synopsis & Masterlist
Tags; slowburn, eventual smut, eventual romance, contract marriage, lots of sexual tension, manipulative & womaniser sukuna, potential angst, mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions of gambling, lots of flirting, fake relationship trope.
Word count; 12k
01. Chapter One.
Malevolent Casino - a brand easily recognised by the public. The rising popularity of this casino company is no secret to the world. And the way they’re topping the casino industry only adds to the wealth held by the man that possesses this establishment that’s tainted with the misery of others. Gambling– everyone loves to shun the topic of it out in the open, but when times are tough and a good rush of adrenaline is needed, guess where people drift towards?
Sukuna put out the light on his cigar as he gazed upon his company’s revenue from last year, printed out on the document he held up in his hand. The incredibly significant numbers put a smile to his face. Earning money off of the pathetic men and women that have crippling addictions - all of them being regulars at his facilities - there is no better source of income for a person like Sukuna than this.
But still…he felt as though he was always missing something.
Though the amount of money being raked in was quite remarkable, there was a lack of exponential growth seen in the company’s annual revenue in the past few years. In some, there had even been a slightly concerning and noticeable decrease.
It had taken Sukuna a little bit of pondering to realise what it was that his company lacked - a good public image. Perhaps it was due to how his business emerged from the darker part of society; a flawless reputation had been something that was the least of Sukuna’s concerns back when he’d began making his way to the top.
He definitely wasn’t about to let his business flicker out like a dying flame in a decade or so. A plan was to be devised.
…And thus, this finalised plan of his brings him to this small, yet refined bar in a more remote and quiet part of the city.
-
Sitting at the bar counter alone, you bask yourself in the slow music that echoes around, taking the final sip from your almost-empty glass. There are very few customers around in your vicinity, and perhaps only a little bit of muted chattering can be heard in the distance from where you remain.
Just as you’re about to ask the bartender for another, he brings you a drink that you have no memory of ordering.
“The gentleman over there requested this for you,” he voices, noticing your expression of inquiry. You turn to see a man wearing an expensive looking crimson suit, giving you a small smile from across the room. Ominous looking tattoos adorn his face, but they compliment his pink, gelled up hair quite well. You politely smile back at him, and turn to the front again.
Judging from its colour and scent, you can guess what kind of drink it is. You can’t really say that it’s your favourite.
A few minutes after, footsteps resound from behind - and a deep, velvety voice calls out to you.
You look up and meet the man’s eyes.
“Not a fan of whiskey?” he asks, smoothly taking the empty seat beside you.
“Unfortunately not,” you respond, swirling the glass cup’s contents around mindlessly with your hand.
“Apologies for that. What kind of drink do you prefer?”
“...A dry martini would be nice,” you tell him, reflecting his flawless falsified smile.
The pink haired man gives a little nod to the bartender, and he is soon on his way to mix up another drink for you.
“And I’ll help myself with this one, in your stead.”
He reaches out for the glass in your hand, and as he closes the distance between his and your body, the scent of his cologne seems to disperse into the air around you. You watch his fingertips graze your hand ever so slightly, while he takes the whiskey away.
“Would you believe me if I said I’d fallen in love at first sight?” he responds with a humorous undertone.
“You’re quite the fine gentleman. What business would you have with a lady like me tonight?”
Sukuna lets out a boyish chuckle - the only genuine reaction you’ll be getting out of him today.
It was your turn to let out a small laugh.
He faces you with a smirk, and you notice the way he taps his finger against the surface of the counter.
“Certainly not. You don’t seem like the type,” you tell him.
“Oh? And why is that?” He takes a sip from the glass of whiskey.
“You don’t strike me as a very sentimental man.”
“I wouldn’t say that you’re entirely incorrect. But I’m not as emotionless as you may think.”
You meet his eyes once again. It’s incredibly difficult to tell when this man is lying.
“Is that so,” you say, giving him a look of intrigue.
Moments later, your martini finally arrives, which you’re quite happy to see.
“I don’t believe so. The Golden Rose Enterprise has been a vastly successful business, ever since you took over.”
“Malevolent Casino, is it? The name of your company,” you ask as you take the drink into your hand.
“An honour that you know of it. Especially from someone of your calibre,” Sukuna says, unsurprised that you’d caught onto him.
“You flatter me.”
You force out a courteous smile.
“I’ll assume that we’re skipping over the self introductions,” he continues speaking.
“Feel free to contact me when you’re ready. I’ll be happy to take you out for dinner.”
“It’s true that I approached you with an offer in mind that you may find interesting,” Sukuna informs, eyeing your reactions carefully.
“Apologies, but I don’t usually tend to talk about business when I’m around alcohol.”
“That’s fine by me,” he says, reaching into the inner pocket of his suit. What he pulls out is a business card.
He then finishes up the remaining whiskey in his glass in one go and stands up to pay for the both of you. Before he excuses himself however, he comes over to you one last time.
“Business is business, but…”
Sukuna leans down closer to you, his face being inches away from yours.
“I’m not fuckin’ around when I say that I’m interested in you too. I don’t just buy drinks for anybody,” he tells you in a low voice. The sudden tonal shift from being overly formal to the crude language is indeed something you weren’t expecting. An unexplainable shock runs down your spine. Seeing your widened eyes grant him satisfaction, and he smirks as he gazes down at you while still hovering close to your face for a few more seconds.
He moves back away, and puts his hands into his pockets.
“It would be nice to get to know you better. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you again,” Sukuna tells you, as he begins to walk away.
“Have a good evening.”
You’re left alone with the drink that he’s bought for you, and the black business card that still holds the scent of his cologne. You chuckle cynically at yourself, looking at the number that's printed on it.
The man sure knows how to linger in someone’s thoughts.
Meanwhile, outside of the bar, Sukuna hums as he walks over to his car. Easy. A bit too easy.
He’s casted out the bait - now all he shall do is wait for you to bite onto it.
-
A little over a week has passed since then - and frustratingly enough, he has heard nothing from you as of yet. He spins the pen in his hand at his desk, while he rests his chin against his other palm lazily. He’s certain that he had indeed grabbed your attention that night. What could be the reason for this radio silence? Are you shy? Overly cautious? Too busy?
That last possible reason ticks him off a bit. You’re not the only one running a successful business here. You think he’s not busy?
His thoughts are interrupted when a knock comes at his door.
“Come in,” he states firmly, not moving from his current position. Uraume, his secretary, enters the room shortly after. They walk up closer to where his desk is, and stops to stand a few metres away.
“What is it?” he asks them, continuing to fiddle with that pen in his hand.
“I’ve received a report saying there’s been a bit of a dispute between an employee and a regular customer, sir. The customer is giving threats to sue the company, and the employee sustained an injury from an object that was thrown at him. I thought it’d be best if you knew about it.”
“Is he a VIP customer?” Sukuna asks immediately.
“No, sir.”
“Then he’s nothing to worry about. If he takes it to court like an idiot, send one of our lawyers to the case. He’s injured one of the staff - he’s unlikely to win.”
“Yes sir.”
He stops fidgeting with the pen.
“How’d they end up dealing with him?”
“He was escorted outside by the security guards - by force.”
“By force, huh…”
That’s right…
If you won’t look his way, he can just force you to.
“Uraume. You wouldn’t mind if I went on a little break, would you?”
-
This is your favourite part of the day.
Sitting down at your large desk, signing off a few papers quietly whilst the steam rises from the piping hot cup of tea that rests close to you. Right after finalising these few documents, you’ll get to sip on it and take a little break from your work…Or so you thought. Three sharp knocks resound from the door.
“Yes? Please come in,” you call out.
The person that emerges from the entrance is Nanami, your most competent secretary.
“It seems there’s a significant guest visiting the hotel today, ma’am. The manager requests your presence in greeting this person,” he informs you.
“Significant guest? I don’t recall there being any VIP bookings today,” you respond, standing up from your seat and walking over towards him.
“He booked in moments prior, and also applied for the VIP membership today. Paid on the spot.”
“...Impressive,” you relent, already having an educated guess on who this person may be.
The two of you make your way down to the hotel lobby, where you’re faced with a few slightly panic-stricken employees of yours, all of them making way for you to approach this new “significant guest” of yours.
Sukuna smiles triumphantly as you make your appearance, being blatant about his pride in his presence that requires a personal greeting from the CEO herself.
“Good afternoon, sir. To what do I owe this pleasure?” you say, standing before him.
“There’s no need to be so formal. I just thought it’d be nice to spend my day off somewhere… extravagant.”
He scans his surroundings, pretending to be interested in the interior decoration and furnishing of the lobby.
“I see. Then allow me to accompany you to your VIP suite,” you tell him with a polite smile. Nanami receives the key for Sukuna’s room while you dismiss the employees that are gathered around the front desk - getting them on their way to greet the other guests coming in.
“Nanami - you can head back up and finish your paperwork for the day,” you instruct the man as you take the key from his hand, “I can guide him by myself.”
“Yes ma’am.” He makes a short bow and excuses himself first.
You turn to look at Sukuna, who seems to be pleased with your decision to send everybody else away.
“Well then. Shall we be on our way?”
“Certainly.”
He follows you close behind all the way to a private elevator that is separate from the ones taken by regular guests.
The elevator arrives with a ding, and both of you step inside of it once the doors slide open.
“From my understanding…you’re not here simply for a nice hotel experience, are you?” you ask Sukuna, who is watching the floor numbers on the monitor go down as the two of you wait for its arrival.
“Such keen observation, as usual. You are correct.”
Bullshit, Sukuna thinks.
“I assume then, it’s got something to do with my lack of response to your proposal that other day.”
“So you’re aware. I thought you’d forgotten all about me, with the way I was left waiting.”
“I do apologise. The week has been rather busy for me, but I promise to come by soon enough.”
“Very well,” he replies, turning to you with a pretentious smile.
“In the meantime, it would be nice if I could show you around - especially since you came all the way here,” you suggest to him. “Please let me treat you to some lunch.”
“I look forward to it.”
Upon entering the suite, you make a quick tour of the room for him, ignoring the couple of underhanded compliments he gave every now and then regarding the interior design. A very particular person, he is. Though a large majority of it was done out of spite; he was, truthfully, quite impressed by the quality. There was no luggage that he’d brought with him today, considering how he was only spending one night here, so the room tour ended pretty quickly and you were soon bringing him along to the restaurant, down the building.
As the name of your company suggests - the colour gold seems to linger around at every turn they take, being draped over a lot of the furnishing and architecture. He can’t shake off the feeling that it might be a little excessive. After passing through the hallways, the two of you finally get to the hotel’s dining room. A waiter comes around and formally introduces themselves, before handing over two menu lists after leading you to an appropriate table for two.
“What would you like to eat? We have quite a broad list of options that you can choose from.”
He skims over the various dishes listed on the laminated sheet before making a quick decision on the Filet Mignon, with tomato soup and a bread roll as the appetiser. You decide to have the same thing.
“You seem pretty excited,” you comment, gazing over at him with an amused look on your face.
“Of course. Eating is one of the greatest pleasures of life,” he states with confidence, eyeing the perfectly polished cutlery on the table, “don’t you agree?”
“Undoubtedly. Which is why we only hire the best chefs for our hotel dining.”
“I’m not too difficult to satisfy when it comes to food, so you don’t need to get too nervous,” he tells you. This evokes a genuine chuckle out of you. He really likes eating – is a mental note that you make in your head quietly.
Sukuna eats in a very satisfying way-- he eats tidily, but is not shy to clean everything off the plate. You can’t help but appreciate his table manners. You pour a glass of the tropical fruit juice for him. When questioned ‘Why not wine instead?’ - he’d replied with ‘It’s too bright outside for alcohol,’ which came off as a surprise to you.
What he notices from you, is the way you seem to be closely analysing him. For what purpose? A few ideas do come to mind. But he can tell you’re not doing it with malicious intent. He accepts the juice that you offer him.
“Do you have a lover, Mr. Ryomen?” you ask him, out of the blue. It even takes him aback, a little bit.
“...Would it please you if I said no?” Sukuna shoots back, having his interest piqued from your sudden query.
“It most certainly would,” you say with a small smile. He can’t really read into what you’re trying to do here.
Outwardly, there is little change in his demeanour. Continuing to cut up his meal, he watches as the blood oozes out from the pink and tender meat inside– something that he most appreciates, when it comes to having his steak rare.
“Would it be alright for me to visit you at your room tonight?” you say.
Your abrupt assertiveness is nothing less than…puzzling. But it wouldn’t really hurt to play along with you for now.
“A rather…sudden initiative, on your part. Can I ask why?”
“There’s no need to read too deep into it. I’ve been meticulously planning something for a while now,” you put your cutlery down onto the table, “and I think you might find it appealing.”
It’s not often that Sukuna gets curious about something, or someone.
“I’m happy to listen to your proposal as well, of course. I’m confident it will fit well into mine.”
Sukuna takes his last bite of the steak and also puts his knife and fork down.
“Quite a bold claim to make, considering how I haven’t told you what I want yet…” he wipes his lips down with a serviette and neatly folds it up. “...But sure. I’m eager to hear what you have in mind.”
He just hopes it won’t be a waste of his time.
The two of you continue to make aimless small talk as dessert comes around, before you have to eventually excuse yourself to continue your office duties.
“I hope you enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Ryomen. I’ll come by at around 8pm, tonight,” you tell him, standing up from your seat and making a quick glance at your wristwatch.
“Right. I’ll see you then,” he replies, and proceeds to watch as you walk off, each elegant step followed by another.
Sukuna knows - it won’t be easy work manipulating you, from the looks of it. He plans to start off small; offer to work in collaboration with you, only to slowly start making his way further into your prized possession– Golden Rose Enterprise– like a poison that spreads through the veins. Whether it’s through seizing your love and affection, or grasping tightly onto a weakness of yours - he’ll let you decide on that.
For now, all he needs to do is find a way to kill the time before 8pm arrives. Perhaps he should call for an in-room massage later?
-
By the time you reach your office once again, your pitiful cup of tea has gone terribly cold. You get someone to dispose of it for you.
Ryomen Sukuna… the man seems to be plotting something. You knew from the very moment he reached out, that he was up to no good. Him and his company are both quite infamous - just as your hotels are known for their flawless reputation and transparency, Sukuna’s business is known for their questionable public image. Though there hasn’t been any real trouble that’s arisen as of yet, the rumours that they’re roped into aren’t pleasant at all.
And not to mention the CEO himself…
Eccentric, temperamental, yet also intelligent and charismatic; this is what your research on him tells you so far. A long history of scandals involving various female celebrities, the man has lived through quite a dramatic love life if what the articles say are true.
But, well, you’re not that particularly worried. You finish signing off the remaining papers at your desk.
You’ll put him on a leash, before he puts one onto you. You print off a copy of your well put together, finalised contract, and slide it into an A4 envelope, sealing it shut. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.
At ten minutes to eight, you’re ready to head into his room, where you shall reveal your cards to him.
Meanwhile- Sukuna, in his VIP suite- has just finished up his shower and makes an effort to dry his hair with a towel taken from the hanger. He then hums as he feels up the material on the pitch black bathrobe he finds on the sink counter, neatly folded and ready for use. After donning the robe, he emerges from the bathroom at good timing as he hears someone at the door.
It hardly seems surprising to you, when he opens up shamelessly wearing the hotel’s bathrobe that presents his collar bones in a lascivious way, still looking a little moist from his shower. You ignore all of that, and look up at him, who smirks down at you, in all his arrogance.
“Good to see you. Come on in,” he tells you with nonchalance, stepping off to the side to make way for you.
“It’s good to see you making yourself comfortable. How do you like this room?” you ask, sitting down on one of the sofa seats at the coffee table.
The two of you exchange polite smiles. He notices the envelope in your hands.
“Nothing less than what I’d expected, from a five star hotel,” Sukuna says as he takes the seat on the other side of the table.
“That’s great news.”
“Well then. I’ll get straight to the point,” you begin.
“Why don’t we get married, Sukuna?”
You call him by his name, for the first time. And additionally, you see his expression of surprise for the first time as well.
“...What?”
You give him a look that makes it obvious that you were expecting this kind of response.
Sukuna seems to still be processing the idea, hanging his head as he leans back against the sofa seat.
“...I understand that reaction. But I’m not saying this as a joke,” you tell him, holding back a chuckle from seeing his dumbfounded response.
“Have you ever heard of what a marriage of convenience is?” you ask.
“And? On what grounds are you asking someone you met a week ago to marry you? Even if it is out of convenience,” he questions, his real personality beginning to show itself to you.
“You’re like the last puzzle piece for my final picture. There’s a lot that I’d like to gain from you and I’m sure there’s a lot you want from me – isn’t that why you approached me at the bar?”
Sukuna regains his composure and narrows his eyes at you.
“Putting aside your needs for now…how can you be so sure about my demands? Enlighten me.”
“I did have a couple of guesses on what they could’ve been. A company that’s already at the peak of the casino industry. What exactly could you be missing?” you speak confidently.
“And my answer ended up being…reputation. Your numbers are consistent, but they’re not accumulating as much as you’d like them to, are they? Perhaps due to a lack of new members at your casinos. The ones that are already hooked may continue to spend money, but a flawed public image is preventing you from gaining new customers. Even a small shortcoming like that is enough to cause problems in the future.”
Sukuna has a fascinated grin that he covers with the palm of his hand. You’re… interesting.
“Which is presumably why you’d want to work with a company that is known for having a perfect reputation. I’m sure partnering up with me would improve it, albeit a little, just by association.”
“You have me backed into a corner,” Sukuna lies, running a hand through his hair at a languid pace.
“But that still doesn’t explain why we should have to get married does it?” he voices carefully.
"We recently finished remodelling our hotel wedding venues. I want to promote it in a more flamboyant manner. What better way than to get married myself?"
An unlikely couple such as yourself and Sukuna would gain a lot of attention; especially from how he’s already well known by the public. You’ll create the grand facade that he’d ‘changed for the better’.
"You’re able to go as far as marriage for the sake of your business?" Sukuna asks with a raised eyebrow.
You look at him straight in the eyes, mouth set in a straight line, and arms crossed.
"Yes, I am."
Witnessing your sincere determination, Sukuna goes from slightly doubting your plans, to acknowledging that you have ambition worth recognising. You’re not very sane at all.
“Alright. Let’s say that’s fair enough. What else would you want from me beyond that?”
A glint shows up in your eyes, as if you’d been waiting for this question this whole time.
“...As the CEO of a casino company, you’d have a long list of top secret VIP customers.”
Sukuna immediately understands where this is heading towards.
“That I do.”
“Our hotels have been doing perfectly fine with our usual guests, but there’s been a bit of a decline with attaining new VIP members recently. My main goal is to snatch up a few from your list using, hopefully, a bit of your influence.”
He crosses his arms and falls silent for a few moments.
“Objectively speaking, having our companies collaborate would create a rift in Golden Rose’s image. But that’s something I’m willing to sacrifice if everything goes smoothly.”
“Is reputation the only benefit I’m getting from this marriage?”
“Why, of course not. Since it’s not new for hotels to have casinos near, or even inside them, I thought it’d be nice if we made a collaboration. As you would know - next to my main hotel, I own another building. We can renovate, and insert new slot machines as you see fit. Funded entirely by me.”
A spark of intrigue gleams over his eyes. Tempting offer indeed.
“I’ve written up a contract as reasonable as I could make it, outlining the details of our marriage, including a few rules and regulations, and what to do if we end up wanting to divorce, for whatever reason,” you say as you slide over the envelope towards him on the coffee table.
So she meant it when she said she was preoccupied this week… Sukuna thinks to himself. Writing up a contract takes quite a lot of energy, after all.
"I'll look forward to hearing back from you again."
"...Give me some time. I'll consider it," he finally tells you, leaning back and crossing his legs after much contemplation.
"Wonderful." You stand up from your seat and look down at him with a smile.
When you're a few steps to getting to the door, Sukuna speaks up again from behind you.
"Aw, leaving so soon? I wouldn't mind if you stayed the night here with me," he teases - with a smirk that you can hear in his voice.
"...Thank you for the offer, but I'll have to decline. Have a good night."
He hears you leave, with the sound of the door opening and closing.
“Tch. What a prude way of saying no.”
Aren’t you a little too cold for someone who aims to be his lawful wife?
No matter - he’ll find one way or another to get under that awfully polite attitude of yours.
-
The contract is actually quite reasonable and fair for both parties, and Sukuna hates to admit so. You worked on this alone? Or maybe you had that stuck up of a secretary helping you behind the scenes.
Either way, upon having his own lawyer review it for him after carefully reading through it himself, he has decided that he will take you up on this offer - and participate in this marriage of convenience.
It makes things easier for him, after all. This will skip him a lot of steps, and you’ll be closer to his reach, making it simpler to play around with you as he pleases. Not to mention; the contract states that if the wedding doesn’t happen, all negotiations are off the table. Clever of you to make it an ‘all in or nothing’ type of agreement.
Today’s the day where he’d already arranged another meeting with you at one of his private restaurants, where he anticipates seeing your pretty face again, since it’s been a little over a week.
Uraume opens the car door for him, and he steps outside without a hitch.
He’s a little elated to find you already sitting inside, gazing out the window as you’re at the fancily decorated table. You’re dressed in a quite eloquent outfit, perfect for a day like this, where the petals are carried away from cherry blossom trees, even by the gentlest of breezes.
“How impolite of me to keep a lady waiting,” Sukuna says as he approaches you, “apologies for the late arrival.”
“Not at all. It’s a habit of mine to show up at least ten minutes before any appointment. You’re actually on time,” you tell him, looking at the watch on your wrist.
“...Quite the courteous habit to have.”
Sukuna’s private restaurant specialises in Japanese cuisine, which explained the various platters of sushi and sashimi that were soon getting placed onto the table, shortly after his arrival. He lets you take the first mouthful, and appears to be awaiting your opinion on the taste.
“This…is really good. I can tell the fish is fresh, and there’s a perfect amount of vinegar in the rice,” you comment, your chopsticks going for another one.
“I’m glad it’s to your taste. Nothing but the best for my fiancé.”
The term he uses catches you a little off guard, but you manage to laugh it off. Sukuna is very satisfied by the millisecond of a pause in your reaction. Perhaps you should’ve added the rule of no unnecessary flirting with the other party into your contract?
After the hearty meal, the table is cleared, and the contract is taken out and placed upon it, resting between the two of you.
“We’ve both come here to sign this, am I correct?” you reconfirm, pulling out a pen of yours, ready to draw up your signature.
“Indeed. We’ve reviewed it multiple times back and forth between us, I doubt there’s anything more to worry about.”
You pass it on over to him, after signing it swiftly. He does the same.
The both of you are now officially bound together, by law.
There’s a beautiful shade of pink outside that grasps your attention, every now and then. You’d forgotten the current season was spring – and like in every other year, the cherry blossoms are always there to remind you. This is a nice restaurant indeed.
“I hope you have the time to enjoy some tea with me, Y/N,” Sukuna says as he puts his pen away. It feels nice to hear someone call you by your name like that.
“Fortunately, I do have a few minutes to spare.”
“Enjoying the outside view?” he asks - placing his focus on you, rather than the window.
“Yes, actually. This view is…very lovely.”
You say it in a soft spoken voice, and your eyes mellow out in a way he doesn’t expect when you look out the window once again. He takes a mental note to bring you here a second time, once the next spring season arrives.
This tea time is spent very delightfully (to your surprise), for maybe the next ten minutes before the both of you need to eventually leave due to your busy schedules. Once standing up, you offer your hand to the man before you, with a smile. He takes your hand, that is so dainty and soft compared to his, and shakes it.
“Your hair is the same colour as those petals,” you say without thinking.
“I do get that a lot. I’d argue that I’ll always look better than any of those trees, however.”
“That’s some impressive confidence you have,” you retort, with a chuckle.
As you’re walking out of the restaurant alongside him, you remember something you’d forgotten to mention to him.
“The wedding will be in a month’s time. We’ll see each other a couple of times before then,” you state, looking up at him in the eyes.
“Excellent. Feel free to contact me whenever.”
“I actually prefer your normal attitude, rather than the one you’re using around me all the time,” you tell him truthfully.
“You mean my flirtatious advances on you?”
“No, you already do that now. I mean when you use your crude language, and speak in shorter sentences.”
You nonchalantly walk out of the door that he’s still holding open for you.
“Oh? ...You’re into that shit? Very unexpected, coming from someone like you,” he retorts with a smirk as he holds the door open for you.
“Yes, that’s much better. I’m happy to see that my future husband is the obedient type.”
Obedient–
He catches you giving one last glance at him, before getting inside of your car, with a cheeky smile on your face. Sukuna is stunned in an amused way, having been called obedient for the first time in his life. It should be making him angry, but he’s grinning instead. The urge to get back at you rises within him like wildfire.
This whole marriage thing with you is bound to be one hell of a ride.
-
“How are the wedding preparations going?” he asks on the phone.
The question comes while you’re inspecting the various invitation designs before you. You pick one of them up and flip to the other side.
“Very smoothly. You won’t have to lift a finger, as we promised.”
“That’s good to hear. It’s a shame, really. Would’ve liked to help pick out a wedding dress for you,” he says humourously.
“Certainly not. I imagine you’d pick an atrocious dress,” you tell him, listening to him chuckle.
“Not possible. All wedding dresses look the same anyway,” Sukuna dismisses.
You furrow your brows a little at his ignorance. Of course he’s the type to say that.
“I’ll have to disagree. But pushing that aside for now,” you say, putting down the sample invitation card, “have you prepared the list of guests you’d like to invite for the ceremony?”
“I have. I’ll get Uraume to send the list to you soon.”
“Thank you. Well then, I wish you a good afternoon.”
You end the call sharply.
Mildly irritated as he sits at the back of his car, Sukuna removes his phone from his ear and looks down at the screen with a raised eyebrow. He wishes you wouldn’t cut calls so abruptly like that. What is wrong with you?
“Pretentious,” he mutters, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He looks out his window, expressionlessly.
Amongst the number of people Sukuna plans to invite to the wedding, his mother and father aren’t a part of the list. But, surprisingly so, it’s the same for you too. They’re excluding the whole ‘walking the bride down the aisle’ as a result. He doesn’t care enough to ask you what happened to them – it’s none of his business, after all. It’s just a little strange to think about how both the bride and the groom will have absent seats for parents.
The car suddenly feels a little stuffy for him. He rolls the window down a little bit, letting the outside breeze swirl inside, carrying the scent of the city.
And as for you – after having completed a large portion of the work needed to be done for the wedding, you’re now happily sitting at home with a glass of wine in your hand. In maybe around two weeks’ time, you’ll be a legally married woman. It feels a little surreal to think about.
Looking over at the wedding invitation card that has his and your name printed over it, your mind brings up the image of your parents. Oh, how they would’ve never approved of a man like him. You can’t help but let out a small, dry laugh.
…It’s all for the sake of the business. You promised them to do well.
And you shall execute it– flawlessly.
-
Little inklings of dating rumours have already dispersed amongst the employees at both Malevolent Casino and Golden Rose Enterprise, having grown all the way back from the moment when Sukuna applied for the expensive VIP membership all too suddenly. That, and alongside the frequent ins and outs both you and Sukuna have been doing at each others’ offices have raised the suspicions of many. Countless friends and acquaintances have reached out, asking if it’s actually true. And to each one of them, you replied with a ‘yes’.
This is a perfect chain of events leading up to the marriage announcement. For someone who has quite a bit of media attention on him already due to past affairs, he is indeed the ideal candidate for the promotion of the hotel’s wedding services, as he’s bound to draw the gaze of a wider audience.
It’s rather amusing how many of them warned you, and discouraged your ‘relationship’ with Sukuna.
“He’s not like that at all. He treats me very well,” you responded to them, the best you could.
And then, you sent out the wedding invitations, not long after.
You become terribly busy in the final week before the ceremony. Giving instructions to employees during the setup process of the venue, arranging the rings, selecting the perfect dress and suit, establishing a script for the vows, and organising the food for the event. Not to mention, there needs to be professional photographers present to capture everything beautifully, so the photos can be uploaded to the hotel website.
For the honeymoon – you reckoned it’d be best to go somewhere overseas, even if for only a few days – in order to prevent speculations that the two of you may not actually be in love. When asked if there was a particular country he wanted to go to for the honeymoon, Sukuna replied with “I couldn’t care less where we go.”
So you took it upon yourself to select somewhere most convenient for you.
Ironically enough, you barely met the man during this final week, as you were too preoccupied with running around and making sure everything was perfect.
And now, here you are, dolled up in a stunning wedding gown, waiting for Sukuna to finish getting dressed up. You can hear the guests buzzing outside, anticipating the appearance of the bride and groom.
A whistle resounds in front of you. Looking up, you see him in the polished suit that you had picked out for him. Alongside that, his appropriately slicked back hair makes him look like quite the handsome gentleman.
“You look ravishing, my dear wife,” he comments, giving a smug, lopsided grin.
“Not your wife quite yet. We’re yet to be officiated,” you respond back with a smile.
“No need to mind the details. We’re about to be, anyway.”
He offers up his arm, and you’re quick to put your hand around it.
The two of you stand underneath an opulent arch, decorated with countless delicate roses. As the officiant makes his speech, you and Sukuna face each other hand in hand, exchanging gazes that contain nothing but false affection.
“The Bride and Groom shall now make their vows.”
The crowd watches intently, falling under a noticeable hush.
“On this joyous day, I, Ryomen Sukuna, will take you as my one and only – my lawfully wedded wife,” his voice booms brilliantly around this almost ethereal-looking wedding venue.
“I vow to bring forth happiness and fulfilment to our most tender, yet unshakable connection we share – and offer up my whole heart to you – as I shall be the valiant protector of our betrothal.”
He executes the speech with great accuracy and enthusiasm, which you are fairly impressed by. You almost let out a giggle from it, knowing that he is most undoubtedly rolling his eyes internally at the words that had just come out from his mouth.
“And I, (Y/N) (L/N), take you as my one and only – my lawfully wedded husband,” you mirror, letting your voice ring out just as he had let his.
“I vow to wholeheartedly embrace and value you as my other half, devoting myself to our most cherished relationship – where I shall tend to the light that our love emits, and treasure it endlessly.”
All of these fancy words - if only everyone knew that they were nothing but empty promises. Nevertheless, finally being able to say them aloud relieves a great weight from your shoulders. It’s almost over.
“You may now seal those promises with a kiss.”
Your eyes widen for a moment.
…You’d forgotten all about the very highlight of all wedding ceremonies. The kiss.
Looking to Sukuna with slight uncertainty, you wonder if you should be the one to initiate it–
He flashes you a gentle smirk. You’d overlooked this part, hadn’t you? He seems to ask.
He pulls you closer to him by snaking his arm around your waist without hesitation, and firmly presses his lips against yours. Having your worries been alleviated, you close your eyes during the kiss. The crowd cheers and a thunderous clap takes over the air around you.
The tips of your tongues brush up against each other, before he pulls away at the appropriate timing, leaving behind a very miniscule and delicate sense of disappointment from having it end so quickly.
The two of you make your way down the steps and walk through the aisle for the grand exit - stepping on the extravagant white carpet that leads to the outside world. Beautiful pink petals are showered down from the ceiling at this perfect timing - and the crowd continues their cheers tirelessly. From the corner of your eye, you inspect that the photographers are doing their jobs in a satisfactory manner.
From the way you and Sukuna bring up your smiles, it wouldn’t be an understatement to say that the two of you are excellent actors.
The path leads all the way to the sleek limousine that awaits the new couple.
You’re mildly surprised to see that it’s raining outside. The weather forecast this morning hadn’t said anything about rain this afternoon. Different hues of grey adorn the sky – the clouds are seemingly vehement on concealing its true colour today. As each of your respective secretaries open up a large umbrella to shelter the two of you, you wonder in dismay. Is this supposed to be some kind of omen?
Getting inside the vehicle, you confirm that the driver is Ijichi, and feel the tension from your body disappear in an instant, now being able to settle down a little more naturally.
“My face hurts from all that smiling,” Sukuna grunts beside you.
“I can say the same,” you agree, caressing your own cheek with your hand.
The limousine will drop by both of your homes, where each of you will get changed into more comfortable clothing before taking off for the airport. Luggage had already been packed prior to the wedding. You’re exhausted, and you could say that you’re pretty envious of Sukuna’s relaxed state that you see once you come back down after changing.
“You must be tired,” he suddenly comments, eyeing you up once you’ve seated yourself comfortably, putting your seatbelt on.
“What makes you say that?” you ask him.
He reaches his hand out to your head, where he gingerly takes something up. When he opens his palm for you to see it, you realise that it’s a petal from the wedding.
“Forgot to check the mirror?” Sukuna asks rhetorically with a cocky undertone.
You let out something like a helpless laugh.
“Thank you for picking up on it.”
The ride to the airport is entirely silent, with you and Sukuna quietly staring out into the windows, watching the scenery outside. As much as you would’ve liked to fall asleep to the softly orchestrated patter of rain against the car’s exterior…you just couldn’t seem to.
After arriving at the airport, you thank Ijichi for his extra service, and promise that his bonus will be sent to his account very shortly. Then, the two of you are guided to the boarding entrance, where you’re seated in the elite economy class.
The plane is headed for Paris, France. A little cliche and overdone, but it’s a place you’d been to most frequently, as your parents had taken you there often for business purposes. The ride goes without any issues, as Sukuna had let out the occasional yawn beside you, before slipping on a silk eye mask and going for a nap. He managed to wake himself up a little before the plane landed.
Upon your arrival at the grand hotel in the bustling city of Paris, the two of you are booked into the same room but with separate bedrooms. The luggage is handled carefully, as the bellman guides both of you to the room.
“I was thinking we could use this opportunity,” he says as he walks close beside you, “to spend the night like how all newlyweds do.”
The fatigue has worn your usual polite attitude off, and you have to roll your eyes at him.
He thoroughly enjoys getting under your skin.
“Quite the charming suggestion. Too bad that I have no energy for that right now.”
“Are you implying that you might in the future?”
“...Think of it as you will, Sukuna.”
The moment you enter, you drag your feet over to your own room.
“I’m going to sleep straight away. Feel free to spend the day how you wish,” you tell him, before going inside and closing the door behind you.
Sukuna has a little bit more energy to burn off, since he took a long nap on the plane – so he decides to step out and enjoy the outside city while he’s here.
It’s not as if it’s his first time in Paris - he’d done a lot of travelling back in his younger days, when he used to be absolutely drunk on the amount of money he was making. He already knows which restaurants and shops are to his taste, and since it’s been a while, he decides he’ll pass some time by revisiting those same places.
He very much enjoys his independent shopping – particularly that feeling of satisfaction at the end, when he’s gained a handful of carefully selected goods. The first place he drops by is a luxurious shoe store, where he picks the pairs that fancy him most, and an employee is immediately ready to come down and help him with fitting them on.
By the end of his little trip, Sukuna’s accompanying assistant has his arms full with various shopping bags, filled with new suits, shoes, expensive cologne… let’s just say that he’s very keen about maintaining his appearance for self satisfaction. And each item was carefully chosen from the designer brands that Sukuna favours greatly.
His bags are dropped off to his room by that same assistant. Before he goes back, Sukuna heads off to the hotel’s bar, where he plans to spend some quiet time with a drink to finish off the day.
This hotel’s well established bar is quite suited to his liking, he thinks, as skims his surroundings, languidly making his way through the dimly lit, atmospheric area.
What he orders tonight at the bar counter is a boulevardier cocktail – being in the mood to have something bittersweet on his taste buds. He’s barely had a chance to take a sip of the drink, when someone all too abruptly claims the empty seat to his right.
“I’ll have a dry martini, please.”
The phrase makes Sukuna whip his head to the side, being mildly pleased to think that it might be the person who he assumes it is.
…He finds that it’s a woman he doesn’t know of at all, staring back at him with a sly smile. He doesn’t visibly show any disappointment, but he does face the front again, before taking a gulp out of the crimson-coloured liquid that resembles the hue of his eyes.
“What, am I not pretty enough for you?” the girl asks in a playful manner.
“...I wouldn’t say that. You’re not too bad to look at,” Sukuna responds honestly.
He entertains her for a little while, doing the bare minimum to keep up with the conversation. She seems so eager to escalate things with him, and he considers it, seeing as he’s got nothing better to do. The contract does state that such relations are permitted for both parties, so long as it’s outside of the media’s attention.
There’s lots of casual touching going on, whether it’s brushing her hand over his, or placing them onto his shoulder or arm, being very blatant in the way she flirts.
The woman hovers inches away from his face, and he stares down at her while he makes some last minute decisions. His gaze falls down to her lips.
“Well? What do you say?” she urges him for an answer, leaning closer to him.
“We could head up to my room and…keep each other some company.”
Just as she thinks she’s gotten him on board, Sukuna grabs her face and pushes her away, deeming that it’s too bothersome for all of that tonight. She pouts right after he lets go of her.
“And I thought we were on the same page… can I ask why?”
He downs the rest of his drink in one go before showing the girl the ring on his left hand.
“At least pay for my drink!” she exclaims as a last resort.
“I’ll be taking my leave, then.”
“Wha- are you going already?!” she questions, thoroughly disappointed. He ignores it, and is already taking steps towards the exit.
With a hand in his pocket, he stops in his tracks, and turns slightly to the side to give her one final glance.
“Too bad. I don’t buy drinks for just anyone.”
Sukuna then heads back up to his room, wondering if you’ll be awake by the time he arrives.
When he’s back inside however, you seem to still be in your deep slumber, seeing as there’s no sign of life around the lounge and no sounds coming from your room. Even for someone as capable as you, managing to prepare everything for that extravagant wedding must’ve been arduous work. He’s in no place to feel irritated at you. It impresses him – how you arranged everything within a limited amount of time, while also fulfilling your duties as a CEO.
Sukuna takes his jacket off and then begins to loosen his tie. After a day of shopping, nothing is better than taking a hot bath to relax the muscles. He can make use of that built in jacuzzi tub in the bathroom, and freshen himself up.
It doesn’t take long for the steam to begin rising from the water as the tub slowly fills up, bubbling up at the sides. He makes himself comfortable towards the edge of the tub, where he lets out a sigh and leans back - the water stopping at the comfortable level, being his chest. He slicks his moistened hair back, and something gets caught in his fingers as he does so.
Looking down at his hand, he sees that it’s a small, pink petal. It must’ve blended in well in his hair from the wedding, this entire time. Thinking of you, a sinister smirk makes its way upon his features.
How reassuring it is, to have a wife so capable. You’ll certainly be a useful asset for him to utilise in the future.
Perhaps a little difficult to crack open, but that’ll only make the end result all the more rewarding.
-
In the following morning, Sukuna wakes up to some noises outside of his room, and he figures that it’s you walking about after sleeping for almost a whole day, if that’s even possible. Doing a great yawn, he does a quick self-check in the mirror, and proceeds to step out of his room.
You’re latching a watch onto your wrist when the door to Sukuna’s room opens up, revealing the man with his hair down, wearing some loose, comfortable clothing. Having woken up very early, you had taken the time to get dressed after that well-deserved sleep you had.
“Good morning,” you tell him, while checking the tightness of the watch on your wrist.
Damn right he is. After sleeping for a day straight, you’re gonna ignore him again and go about your own business?
“Going somewhere?” he asks curtly, without greeting you back.
“Yes, in about two hours or so,” you say, wondering why he seems mildly irritated towards you today.
“I’m going to a piano concert. I doubt you’ll be interested, but you're welcome to join me.”
A piano concert? Shit sounds boring as hell. Of course you’d be interested in that.
Being invited under these premises… like being offered leftovers… he can’t help but feel a little displeased.
“You have a spare ticket?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.
“I always buy the seats at either side of mine. I’d rather not sit next to strangers.”
“I’ll go. I have nothing better to do around here anyway,” Sukuna says, with a voice that sounds like he’s doing you a big favour. Maybe he’ll take this chance to learn a thing or two more about you.
“Wonderful. I’ve also ordered room service for us, so we can have breakfast together if you’d like?”
That seems to have appeased him a bit, which forms a little smile on your face.
Perhaps around an hour and a half later, the two of you leave the hotel to head over to the auditorium, which requires only a short walk.
Sukuna trails behind you as you stride over towards your seats, where you’re able to make yourself comfortable. From this location in the auditorium, you catch sight of people clambering around towards their seats below. There’s still a bit of time left before the show begins.
He falls quiet for a few seconds, which makes you give him a discreet little glance.
“I’m surprised you actually came all the way out here with me,” you tell him, in order to strike up some sort of conversation.
“I figured that even a dull piano recital would be better than being stuck in my room all day,” Sukuna responds with nonchalance, crossing his legs.
“You wouldn’t know that it’s dull yet, would you? It hasn’t even started yet.”
“I guess you’re correct. You did prove me wrong before, after all.”
You make a quizzical expression at him, and a sly smirk creeps up onto his features.
“Your wedding dress. It was unique. Beautiful, even,” he admits.
A moment of realisation later, you let out a small chuckle.
He’s a little disappointed by that response. He’d like to catch you looking all flustered, one of these days.
“I’m glad you were able to learn something from our wedding,” you tell him.
“And of course,” he continues, “the one wearing it, even more so.”
“Why, thank you very much. You looked quite stunning as well. I knew that suit would compliment you nicely.”
The conversation is cut off when the concert begins with the lights dimming, as a pianist makes their way onto the large stage.
More than the music itself, Sukuna was finding that his attention was garnering towards your reactions more. You seem to be enjoying yourself.
…Though it wasn’t long before he was beginning to zone out a little, being easily disengaged with the concert, as he isn’t exactly one for piano music.
By the end of the show, you see that he is very eager to leave the auditorium. You can’t help the childish way the corners of your lips rise in response. He’s quite easy to read, at least when it comes to these smaller moments.
“Why don’t you get up on stage yourself next time? That’d be something more worthwhile to watch,” he says, bringing an image of you sitting before the large instrument up in his mind.
“You must be an avid fan of the piano,” Sukuna says with a grunt, as they leave the bustling area.
“Only casually, every now and then. Out of everything I was required to learn as a child, I liked the piano the most.”
“I’m flattered that you think so. But I prefer listening over playing it myself.”
Your words erase the image out of his mind.
The rest of the “honeymoon” goes by without much happening between the two of you, only quietly sharing meals together or the occasional drinking session; though neither of you were able to get drunk - due to being a tad too cautious around each other.
-
Your first day back at the office felt quite refreshing.
Everyone was busy, and the hotel’s wedding venues especially; as you had predicted, there was an overflow of requests coming in from couples who had seen the photos of your marriage on the website. They did come out very beautifully - almost like something out of a scene in a film. It was worth paying those photographers the good money.
At your desk, you scroll through the various article titles that have been published on several gossip sites – featuring the topic of your wedding mainly focusing on Sukuna.
[Sukuna, a CEO notorious for breaking the hearts of many actresses, gets married?]
[CEO of Malevolent Casino settles down for owner of Golden Rose Enterprise. A match made in heaven?]
[A womaniser reformed, CEO of Malevolent Casino enters wedlock!]
Oh, how you laughed until your stomach hurt. You can imagine the kind of face he’d make if he read any of these titles. The overwhelming attention is even better than you had expected. You even have a few interview requests from some of these gossip magazines. Doing a few of them wouldn’t hurt, would it?
The two of you have even set up a shared home, put together by Sukuna himself, just in case there comes a moment when you need it. Though you weren’t very happy about the design choices he’d made, when furnishing the place. For now, an agreement was made that living under the same roof together was not necessary.
Later in the day, you receive a call from the man himself.
“So, are you enjoying the fruits of our labour?” he asks as soon as you pick up.
“Yes, it truly is satisfying. Getting married at our venues seems to have become a little trend now,” you tell him proudly.
“Good for you. I hope you’re remembering your part of the deal, however,” he states with warning, “I’m yet to see any of those fruits growing on my end.”
You chuckle a little at his words.
“Of course I do. I have something in mind that will help with that,” you reassure him.
“But before we go into any detail for it…” you say, as you read over the email for an interview request on your computer screen, “let’s do one interview, about our marriage.”
You smile as you hear Sukuna make a little noise of grimace from his end.
-
“This better be worth doing,” Sukuna mutters, as he walks alongside you in the corridor, towards where the interview will take place.
“I wouldn’t suggest doing anything that’s a waste of time,” you tell him with confidence.
His expression of indignance doesn’t change.
“After all, it’s a good opportunity to have this attention on us last a little longer,” you add on.
“I already figured. Aren’t you mooching off of my image a bit too much?” he narrows his eyes at you.
“Oh, don’t be like that. I was thinking we could start the planning for that collaboration of ours soon. Wouldn’t that be to your liking?”
That seems to quell his discontent, for now. You open the door at the end of the corridor.
“The two of you have stirred the media up quite a bit through your sudden marriage! Please tell us your story on how you first met each other.”
The interviewer speaks to you and Sukuna with a bright smile, gesturing politely towards the vague direction between you both. Of course, you had prepared a little bit of a script for both yourself and him, but he’d brushed it off, saying that he was able to wing something like this easily.
“Well, our first meeting was-”
“It’s rather cliche, but we met at a bar,” he cuts you off abruptly. It catches you off-guard. You only hope that he won’t say anything unnecessary.
“I was the one that approached her, after catching her gaze from across where she sat,” he continues, crossing his legs. The excited interviewer types away on her laptop, recording his words.
“My! That does sound romantic. Please do give us more details.”
Sukuna does an excellent job at mixing the truth with his lies, and surprisingly enough, you’re the one sitting in silence as he does most of the talking while you act as backup to his story. It’s even better than the script you’d made up originally. He’s clearly picked up the skill to smoothly manipulate his stories.
“Our last question in the interview is directed towards the both of you. What compelled the two of you to choose each other for marriage? What do you love most about one another?”
A question that wasn’t on the damn script. They always love to sneak a few extras in like this. And technically that was two questions, not one. Sukuna is about to express his displeasure towards the interviewer, but you speak up before he does.
“I appreciated his very forward way of approaching me. How he’s difficult to read, granting him a more mysterious appeal. Arguably arrogant at times, but rightfully so, considering how clever and charming he is. For one second I was only a little intrigued by him, but then in the other…he’d suddenly become the apple of my eye.”
How do you say all of that without batting an eyelash? Part of him wonders if you perhaps meant any of it, even just a little.
“That is wonderful! I understand why you’d be infatuated. What about you, Mr. Ryomen? Did you also feel equally as captivated?”
He certainly won’t lose to you.
“...But of course. Her strong sense of independence. How competent she is. She mentioned that I’m difficult to read - but that hardly seems to be the case. She reads me like a book, and I find that so interesting,” Sukuna looks at you with a smirk and naturally places his hand over yours, squeezing lightly.
“It had been a while since I’d chased after someone rather than be chased – but that only made our relationship all the more sweeter.”
You’re impressed with how willingly he shot back at you, with his impromptu speech. The interviewer, oblivious, swoons as the two of you exchange smiles.
“There were nothing but satisfying answers during this session. Thank you so much for your participation!”
The interview is wrapped up nicely, and the two of you walk out after shaking hands with her.
Your insincere wordings are sickeningly sweet, like caramel, clinging onto him with its viscous texture.
“The apple of your eye, huh?” he goads, eyeing your response.
“Yes, my dear husband. The apple of my eye,” you repeat, with a relaxed demeanor.
“Very endearing,” he says – with venom in his tone.
A car awaits outside for the two of you, its engine already on and ready to drive off.
“While we’re here, perhaps we should talk about the event I’ve set up for us,” you tell him, fastening your seatbelt.
Sukuna opens his eyes instantaneously. He’s going to do… what?
“Go on, I’m listening,” he says, crossing his arms and resting his head back with his eyes closed.
“We’re going to do some volunteer work at an aged care facility,” you say bluntly, paying no mind to his dismissive posture.
Judging from that reaction, apparently not.
“Are you fucking around with me?”
“No? Actually, I was half expecting that you would’ve seen this coming.”
“This is still only phase one – improving your reputation. I’m even organising a few journalists to publish an article for us,” you tell him unapologetically.
He looks comically displeased.
“There’s a lot of guilt that follows when it comes to a hobby like gambling. It’s already considered a taboo, but with a company holding an unfavourable image like yours, newcomers are hesitant. Our partnership isn’t enough to put all of that behind,” you explain.
“And if I said no?”
“This isn’t for me more than it is for you.”
“You must be joking. How is taking care of some old fossils beneficial to me?”
“Let’s just say that it’s a ploy,” you start.
Sukuna rolls his eyes, despite knowing that you’re correct on that.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“Addicts are constantly looking for excuses to be addicted. What’ll happen if they believe you made this company for a good cause?”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he scoffs, returning to his former attitude. “And I’m guessing you expect me to throw in a donation there too.”
Sukuna grunts with annoyance.
His aloofness resembles the behaviour of an unhappy child – but you don’t dare tell him that aloud.
“It’ll only be a few hours of work. Get a couple of good photos in and we’ll be done,” you say, sympathetically.
“How reassuring.” He doesn’t bother to look your way again.
-
Sukuna is used to doing things forcefully. If there’s something that he wants, he’ll pluck it out of the hands of another, regardless of if it’ll affect that person or not. If there’s a crowd of people around him, he’ll push and shove them out of his way, not caring whether someone gets trampled or not. And if there’s anyone that inconveniences him… he doesn’t hesitate to kick them down, until they’re crying on their knees for forgiveness.
And yet…. And yet…
Here he is, standing behind a table, wearing a tacky apron over his dashing suit as he dishes out soup for an old geezer, using a ladle. There’s a smile on his face, but a vein popping out on his forehead. The littlest inconvenience could make him lash out at somebody here.
He pours soup into the tray for the next elderly woman that is in line.
He wordlessly gives her a third scoop.
“More please,” she asks of him.
“Alright, sure,” he tells her, doing his best to sound friendly. Another scoop.
“Again,” she says.
“I want more!”
Her tray is already filled to the brim with soup, any more and she’ll end up spilling everything on her way to a table.
Sukuna is about to lose it.
She complacently walks off to find a seat somewhere, holding her tray.
“Ma’am, if you get any more, you’ll end up spilling it over. You can always come back for seconds. Promise we’ll still be here,” you butt in, before he blows over a fuse.
“Oh… alright then.”
You can barely contain the sigh that nearly spills out of your lungs.
“If you explain it to them clearly, they usually listen,” you tell him with a low voice, after she’s gone.
“Too bad I don’t wanna explain shit,” he very graciously responds.
Shortly after, you and Sukuna get your own portions of the same meals given to the elderly for lunch.
He kisses his teeth loudly and chucks his spoon down onto his tray, before getting up abruptly.
“Everything is lukewarm,” he comments, frowning.
“Can’t be helped. It’s a safety precaution, in case they burn themselves.”
You clearly note how the direction he heads towards is not where the restrooms are.
“Where are you going?”
“To the bathroom,” he lies without hesitation.
Fuck this whole event. Fuck this place. He considers leaving for a moment, but is quick to discard that idea, knowing he’ll hear no end of it from you afterwards. Only a few more hours to go, anyway. He steps outside, taking a quick scan of the area to make sure nobody is around before pulling a cigarette and lighter out from his pocket.
Lodging it between his lips, he uses his lighter against the end, but it seems to fail at producing any flames, adding on to his frustration.
He ignores you, because at this point, he knows nothing nice will come out of his mouth if he starts talking now. Why isn’t this goddamn thing working?
“Useless piece of shit,” he mutters, continuing his frantic attempts at the sparkwheel.
“Smoking is prohibited in this area,” a voice that he knows all too well comes from behind.
You stand beside him and hold something up with your hand. He sees that it’s a lighter.
He lights his cigarette, returns your lighter and then takes a big puff. He looks more noticeably relaxed.
“...You smoke?” he asks, taking it from your hand.
“Used to,” you tell him, crossing your arms.
“Just this once. Make it quick,” you tell him, looking around for people.
He lets out a short, curt hmph and blows another gust of smoke out.
“So what did you follow me all the way out here for? To babysit me?” Sukuna asks, still being quite moody about the situation.
“Looks like you already know. I thought it’d be best to keep an eye on you.”
He was going to shoot back with another snarky response, but a couple of voices could be heard coming from somewhere nearby. Before he can say a word on it, you’re suddenly grabbing his hand and dragging him away, elsewhere. The two of you end up in the area behind the building.
“Feel better now?” you say.
“Barely. Let’s finish this and go home already,” he grunts, dropping the cigarette butt onto the ground and putting it out with his foot.
“You should probably pick that up.”
All because of that… he thinks. Sukuna watches as you peer around the place, seeing if anyone is around again. A smirk slowly crawls up onto his face.
“Why the hell did we need to run? We could’ve just gone back in,” he says, raising an eyebrow.
“If they approached us, they would’ve smelled the smoke. You still reek of tobacco.”
“You sure that’s the only reason? Dragging me all the way here. By the hand, not to mention.”
He corners you against the wall behind you, trapping you between his arms.
“Who knows, I might even behave a little more if you help me relieve some stress,” he continues, looking down at you with sultry eyes. You don’t look flustered in the least, which kind of irks him.
To his confusion, you grab something out of your pocket. It’s packaged in plastic, and you make quick work to unwrap it.
His eyes then widen, when you grab his face and slip something inside his mouth, pushing it past his lips. Swiping his tongue over it, he realises it’s a mint lolly.
“Stop joking around, and chew on this instead. Maybe that’ll pipe you down,” you tell him, as you slip out from his trap by ducking underneath his arms. “And it’ll help get rid of the smell, while it’s at it.”
“Come. We’re going back inside.”
His eyes follow you as you begin walking back already without him. He even considers spitting this lolly down to the ground. But he doesn’t.
Sukuna was very dismayed once they had gotten back. They found that lunch break was over and there were dishes to be done. By them.
He gnaws on the lolly as he shoves the last tray into the dishwasher. It gets shut, and with the press of a button, it begins its work. Turning around, he sees you at the sink, manually washing some dishes up, because there’s only so much that a dishwasher can contain.
“Look at you, doing such a good job. You should do this professionally,” he comments, coming up from behind. He really has nothing serious to say today.
Your flat reply kills his playful banter immediately, and he can’t help but narrow his eyes as the last of the lolly melts away in his mouth. He aggressively puts on some rubber gloves and pushes you aside at the sink.
“Mind lending a hand?” you ask him, without looking back.
“I don’t know if I feel like helping.”
“Alright - don’t, then.”
There’s a smile that blooms on your face when you look at him in this moment, and it’s genuine, which is kind of rare, coming from you. Your reaction makes the dishes worth doing for just a bit, at the very least. He thinks.
“We’ll take years to get back home at your pace. Not doing it for you, so don’t misunderstand.”
“...Yes, I’m aware.”
Not long later, someone comes along inside – the same old lady that had asked for extra soup from Sukuna earlier on. He’s never been more appalled to see someone again.
“You missed this one!” she says, holding up a dirty spoon.
She approaches slowly, but somehow misses a step and stumbles a little, causing the spoon to smear over Sukuna’s suit, just below the shoulder area.
“Oh… dearie me. My legs don’t work the way they used to,” the woman mutters, looking down at her limbs. After dropping the spoon off in the sink, she pats him on the back.
“Sorry, young man,” she says, before trudging away again.
The two of you stand in silence, with Sukuna having a darkened expression on his face.
Your stifled laughter breaks it, and he whips around to see you enjoying this shitty situation.
“That hag…” he mutters, popping out a vein again on his forehead.
He hears another chuckle from you.
He’s left alone with his simmering anger for a few moments, until you come back holding a packet of wet wipes. Adjusting his position by grabbing his shoulders, you begin wiping away the…remnants of what was on the spoon from his clothes. He grimaces with disgust.
“Quit laughing! Fuck’s sake, I’m gonna leave-”
“Wait here,” you cut him off, degloving yourself.
“Alright then, as you wish.”
“You wore a dark colour today, so it should be fine.”
“Fine? Nothing will be fine until I get back at that old witch.”
“Don’t be like that to a frail old woman. I’ll buy you a new suit if it bothers you so much.”
“...Forget it. I can buy my own suits without your help,” he grumbles, getting back to the dishes.
After wrapping up the day with the remaining formalities, you and Sukuna exit the facility, into the car park. You crack another smile when he immediately takes his jacket off and chucks it at Uraume, who catches it gracefully, being accustomed to this sort of behaviour.
“Get it cleaned thoroughly. For now, I want it out of my sight,” he says sternly, loosening his tie. He wants to go home and shower. Never coming back to this godforsaken place again.
Just a few days later, the finalised draft of the article that is to be published online is sent to your email. It mentions the volunteer work you and Sukuna had done during the day, and also talks briefly about the generous donation that was given to the facility – just the way you’d requested them to. Sukuna won’t be too happy about the photos that show him wearing that apron, but it’s a well worth sacrifice to make. It's during these times, where you’re grateful for the connections you have with the media. You send them the approval email in response.
Once the article is published, you forward the link for Sukuna to see.
He skims through the blocks of uninteresting text on the site, and abruptly stops scrolling when he gets to the photos that have been added in.
There are key moments that had been photographed; when they were serving the food, when they were helping with the dishes, and when they shook hands with the one in charge of that facility. But the image that stands out to him the most, is the one taken when they were manually washing some trays together.
His own face isn’t visible because he has his back to the camera, but your genuine smile, as you’re looking at him, can be seen clear as day.
“The photographer deserves a raise,” he speaks to himself.
When’s the next time he’ll ever get an expression like that out of you again?
…He shuts his laptop screen down. It doesn’t matter, anyway. He’s not here to try and make you happy, after all.
-- To be continued --
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#sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#ryomen sukuna x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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