#i have so many thoughts about shadow thank u for this

[bunni-v1]

May we get some crk thoughts, my liege? I too have a hyperfixation—

Shadow Milk Cookie Headcannons (SFW & NSFW)

🍓Thank you for the excuse to write this shit, I feel less insane being asked to do it lol. I still think this might taint my public image, so lets hope none of my future employers fuck with tumblr. Anyway only smc since he's who I'm obsessing over. I was gonna add pv, but I write wayyyy too much to include both of them on one post. Maybe I'll do him if someone asks nicely. I'll have a mix of both sfw and nsfw so beware lol.

MDNI (I'll find u)

TW: Shadow Milk Cookie; Obsessive behaviors; Stalking mentioned; Nsfw under the cut; unedited

Info: Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader; Sfw & Nsfw headcannons

Credit for Beast Bite Idea: @rollingeevee (go give them love I adore this AU)

-To start I'm gonna say, he's insane, like genuinely. He leans into a lot of yandere-esque behaviors, but I firmly believe he's not a full-on yandere, just really fucked up in the head (trauma and such, poor thing, wah wah wah.)

-Pre-Corruption Shadow Milk surely had a lot of admirers, but admiration is very different from genuine love and connection. He was, in a very literal sense, on a different level than all the cookies on earthbread. He's immortal, a god meant to care for all cookies, romantic relationships with cookies (other than the other heroes) just aren't an option in his mind. (For the sake of these, none of the beasts have had any romantic interaction with him, because I don't wanna deal with that can of worms rn.)

-All that to say, it's highly unlikely he has much experience in relationships. Maybe he's had flings, and some sexual encounters, but I doubt he would commit to someone he would inevitably lose to time. And, sure, he certainly could artificially extend their lifetime... but that's unethical and unfair to his partner. The burden of immortality is not one a regular cookie is baked to bear.

-So when he is inevitably corrupted and sealed away, romance isn't really a thought on his mind. He's very fixated on escaping that stupid tree and enacting his revenge. Which he does, at least in part, and with his freedom comes half of his powers and ensuing chaos.

-There are not many ways he could meet you if I'm quite honest, so I'll leave that up to personal interpretation. However you do meet him, though, you have to be intriguing. He gets bored of people easily, so you have to stand out -- be that in your demeanor or the way you speak or how you challenge him, it just has to be interesting. Once he's interested he's hooked.

-He's rather... mmm... obsessive? He likely stalks you for a while before he makes any moves. He wants to learn your patterns, the cookies you surround yourself with, the things you like, your job, your favorite foods, what flowers you like, and how do you feel about his chaos? He'll even manipulate things around you, just to see how you might react. (Is it fucked up? Yeah, lol! But isn't it equally endearing? He seems to think so.)

-You have frequent reoccurring dreams about him in this period of time. You've only seen him from a distance at this point, but you can't quite shake him from your thoughts. What's very important here is that you realize that your thoughts are not your own. Acknowledge that he's watching, and make sure that he's aware you're aware. Be that by purposefully doing something he could recognize as acknowledgment, or outright saying that you're aware he's messing with you. He values curiosity and intelligence in a person, if you can break yourself out of his cycle he's 100% sold on you.

-It doesn't take much longer after that for him to make his first official appearance. Bowing gracefully in front of you as he materializes from thin air, smiling like a man driven mad by infatuation.

-Believe it or not, he's really not all that creepy or pushy. He's very playful and charming, and while you have the knowledge he'd been watching you for a long time at this point, it's hard not to fall for him. He flirts with an ease that no other cookie really has, and he's so very funny never failing to get a smile out of you at his jokes.

-Now, this may go against what others characterize him as a lot, but I don't believe he's the type to steal you away and lock you up. Shadow Milk is a cookie who wants to be wanted, he doesn't want his feelings to be entirely one-sided, it would really hurt him to pour himself into someone who does not want to reciprocate his passions.

-He's unbelievably patient with you. Despite what the mental manipulation from earlier implies, he allows you to set the pace and make the moves, mostly nudging you gently in the direction he wants you to go now that he has your attention. Again, he wants you to choose him. He wants you to love him, so he will happily wait as long as it takes for you to realize and accept your longing for him.

-He gives you the flowers you like, and listens to you talk about your exceedingly boring days (with rapt attention, of course, he loves listening to you talk as much as he loves talking). If you ask, he'll take you anywhere you'd like to go on earthbread with a snap of his fingers, showing you sights you'd only dreamed of seeing. (Whether or not these are illusions are still up for debate).

-It's very hard not to fall for him with all this considered, and he knows that of course. He was just waiting for you to confess, and you have to confess. He won't do it even if you make it clear you want him to. It's not something he'd ever admit to you -- or himself -- but he doesn't want to risk even the slightest bit of rejection. It would break him more than he's already been broken, so you'll have to do it for our poor little jester.

-When you do though? Oh, he's over the moon! Practically swooning as he scoops you up and spins you around in celebration. He's so overjoyed. He is wanted, there is someone in this world who loves him genuinely. There's no false platitudes or any worshipping done, just raw affection between the two of you. (Just the tiniest bit of manipulation at the start, but obviously you've dismissed and forgiven that at this point).

-Again, he doesn't immediately take you away from your life if you don't wish to be. He does heavily encourage you to come spend your days with him, though. He can take care of you, he's literally a god, you'll never ever want for anything so long as he can control it (which he can, duh).

-I feel it very important to emphasize that in a relationship with him, you are equal. Even if you literally cannot be equal in stature and power, you are equal in the relationship -- if anything you have more sway over him than he does over you. He's very, very in love with you, and he will do just about anything you ask of him so long as it doesn't interfere with obtaining his souljam.

-Having established that, let's get to the fun stuff.

-Shadow Milk Cookie is very physically and verbally affectionate. If you are around him it's likely he's touching you in some way. Whether that's him literally hanging off you like a baby monkey or just a hand on your arm, he likes to have a physical tether to you.

-Plenty of messy wet kisses all over your cute little face, he loves seeing you get all flustered and feeling your dough burn up from his barrage of affections.

-It's also very common for him to carry you around in various different styles. Over the shoulder, piggback, princess style, like a sack of potatoes... doesn't really matter. It's also a regular occurrence that you fall asleep as he floats around the spire of all knowledge. He doesn't need sleep, and he does not sleep often, but he likes holding you while you do so. It's proof of your trust in him, and he usually uses the time you are sleeping to be more genuinely affectionate. Soft words whispered in your ears bringing you sweet dreams as he runs his hands up and down your back, kissing the crown of your head with such love it would make a grown man blush.

-He calls you cute little nicknames, like shortcake or sweet thing. The most common, and his favorites, are doll/dolly and little star. (Little star is something he hums with such affection it makes you weak in the knees. You know he's feeling more adoring when he uses it.) Talks about how cute you are, how pretty you are, how desirable you are. How any cookie would be so lucky to have you -- too bad they could never compete with him!

-That being said, most of his affections are pretty surface-level stuff at the start of the relationship. At least, what you get to see. He has a hard time opening up to others, he's a very sensitive cookie deep down in his dough. It takes quite a while to get him out of his shell and start showing you who he is as himself.

-Who he is, is a very aching cookie. He lost so much, struggled with his own corruption, and still hasn't fully accepted it himself. He feels as though he has been betrayed and discarded by everything he once loved, it's no wonder he has a hard time showing you such ugly sides of himself.

-You warm him up, melt him slowly, and you get to see peaks of genuine love and adoration behind those heterochromatic eyes. He may never allow you to see all of him at once, but you do get to know him. If you continue to love him despite seeing the uglier side of things, there is a distinct shift in the way he showers you in affection.

-Initially, he's very showy with everything, his love is a spectacle for the two of you to watch. It's almost like he's put himself outside of the relationship rather than in it. After he opens up, it's quieter, more intimate. He's more involved in it, like it's less about showing you how much he loves you, and more about sharing that mutual feeling between the two of you.

-You didn't have much room to show him how much you cared for him, but now you do. He allows you to initiate physical affection and doesn't flinch away at the touch. He accepts your words of admiration for what they are, not questioning your intentions for any reason.

-Kisses are softer, more full of emotion. Less like he's drowning you and more like he's trying to swallow you up. Desperation to have you as close to him as possible can take him over quite frequently during make-out sessions, and they leave you breathless and fuzzy rather than burning and flustered.

-Now, you can't write Shadow Milk without acknowledging how fucking jealous he is all the time. Now, I believe it's less of a jealousy thing (though, that really is something that is frequent), and more of a possessive/protective thing.

-He doesn't get jealous of the average cookie, alright, not unless you show interest for whatever reason. They're not really a threat to him, and why would they be? He's secure enough to know that you wouldn't leave him for some random half-baked simpleton. HOWEVER, he DOES get jealous of the other beasts and especially Pure Vanilla Cookie.

-The other beasts aren't as powerful as him, but they're still powerful and cunning (some of them at least). Truly, on a level of divinity and ability to care for you, they are his closest competition. Even still, he only gets jealous if one of them seems to want to stake a claim on you, or you become too fascinated with one of them.

-If neither is the case, he highly encourages you to form relationships with them. They are cookies that, seemingly, he cares for. While they can be difficult to get along with, if you are someone Shadow Milk deems worth his time, you are someone they will also deem worth their time.

-Ah, I should also mention he gets... pouty about Black Sapphire and Candy Apple. He doesn't see either of them as a threat, so I couldn't say he's jealous... he just gets annoyed when you're being attentive to them when he's around. Black Sapphire is smart enough to set hard boundaries with you to start, for both of your sakes, but your relationship with him is very positive. You are Shadow Milk Cookies partner, after all, you're a very important Cookie and Black Sapphire has no reason to be unkind to you.

-Candy Apple Cookie on the other hand is the one who's jealous here. You find her positively adorable and her little crush on Shadow Milk is nothing but endearing in your eyes, but she very much is huffy about your relationship with him. Of course, she can't do anything to you, that would only turn against her in the end so she just pouts. You can win her over slowly, though, just by being sweet to her and comforting her when Shadow Milk rejects her once again.

-Your relationship with them seemingly pleases Shadow Milk, though you can't really tell if he's happy or not. Sometimes he seems pleased, other times he's pouty, so who really knows other than him.

-However, the cookie that really seriously gets under his skin the most is Pure Vanilla. He does everything in his power to keep the two of you as far away from one another as possible, but it's almost inevitable that you meet PV, especially when he becomes Truthless Recluse.

-Pure Vanilla is everything Shadow Milk is not. Kind, gentle, patient, soft-spoken, and of course truthful. He's very afraid you may meet PV and realize that you do not want to be with him anymore. You would rather have someone like Pure Vanilla Cookie to dote on you in a fashion that he cannot bring himself to do openly yet.

-Of course, you don't, but that doesn't stop the fear from seeping into his dough. The only way to ease him is by being patient and displaying your loyalty through and through. He won't really be calm until Pure Vanilla is take care of, but you can assure him that you won't be leaving him for his other half anytime soon.

-Circling back to his possessive and protective tendencies, Shadow Milk does see you as an object of his affection. He is fully aware you are your own cookie, you are not something he ever wishes to control entirely and remove autonomy from, but you are his. His to keep and love and protect.

-He's very obsessive about your well-being and happiness. If something hurts you (alive or not), it's gone, destroyed. He won't even make a show of it, it just disappears. If you are upset, he is there doing everything to make you feel better. Whatever you want, whatever you need! He's here for you, please rely on him (he needs you to rely on him).

-If you are out and about he keeps an eye on you, which you are aware of. It's rather obvious, so even if he doesn't tell you, you can feel him watching you. Ignoring it becomes easier with time, but if anything happens to you he wastes no time in popping up and taking care of whatever happens.

-This leads into my next headcanon (inspired by the ever-talented @rollingeevee go check them out!), he has a bite of sorts that he uses as a means of monitoring you. It's something he uses to pinpoint where you are at all times, even when he's not monitoring you actively. The bite acts as a connection between you and him, emotionally and physically tying the two of you together.

-You can feel what he feels through the bite, anger, sadness, joy, pretty much anything he feels you can feel. It also acts as a reminder to you that you should not stray too far from where he is, sending an uncomfortably heavy feeling through your dough. (This is a manifestation of his worry, and it only really happens when he notices you've gone somewhere a little too far from the safety of the spire).

-However, this goes both ways. He can also feel what you feel at the same intensity that you feel it. You can, likely less so, also tell where he is. There is a pull in the back of your mind from the magic telling you where to find him at all times, and it only lets go when you are in proximity of him. If you miss him, he feels the same heavy feeling in his dough reminding him that you would like him by your side.

-Now, finally, we have to address the topic of mortality. Shadow Milk is likely more aware than you ever will be of how mortal you really are. This is why he's so very protective and possessive of you, he doesn't want to lose you prematurely.

-However, if you are okay with it, he is completely fine with artificially extending your life span. In fact, he does it happily. He might even start doing it without asking if the topic hasn't been broached in a certain amount of time. He wants to spend as long as you'll allow him by your side, and if that means breaking a few rules of magic and cookie society then so be it. He's a god after all, he doesn't have to answer to anyone (other than the witches).

-Anyway, let's get to the shit you freaks are really here for. (Me, I'm freaks.)

-I don't really think sexual intimacy is something Shadow Milk desires all that much, but he more so likes it because it's... interesting? I'm sure he derives physical pleasure from sexual intercourse, but less so than the average cookie might. Most of his enjoyment comes from seeing you enjoy yourself.

-It goes without saying, but Shadow Milk Cookie is a freak. He's into pretty much anything under the sun (except maybe one thing...), and so long as you're down to try something he's happy to oblige you.

-He is a switch, but he leans dom most of the time, and you won't get him to sub early on in your relationship. That requires a bit too much trust for him, so he'll need time to be cool with giving you that kind of control over him. But he will bottom for you as your relationship progresses, and that's a whole different side to him.

-Lets start with him in a dominant role, though, since it's more common to get from him.

-Obviously, he's a tease, through and through. He loves to watch you squirm and react to the things he does. Tantalizingly light touches drawn over your dough, teeth grazing your soft body almost piercing but never quite getting deep enough, heated breath blown over your most sensitive spots but never relieving you with his mouth as you so desperately need.

-Truthfully he could spend another thousand years just tracing over you, committing each inch to memory until he's satisfied in knowing every inch of you. Unfortunately, (or fortunately), he's not nearly as patient in the bedroom as he is outside of it. Not with all of you on display for him, so trusting and open, ready for him to defile you. Oh, his sweet, sweet little dolly~

-Even with his impatience, his teasing does not stop. His hands continue to ghost over you, making sure you're still squirming even as he succumbs to his need to taste you.

-Oh, and tastes you he does. He doesn't have to subscribe to regular cookie physical limitations, so he somehow manages to swallow you whole. Jaw unhinging so he can get as much as he needs from you, tongue splitting itself to give you attention everywhere, and god is it long and dexterous. He can reach so very deep and it moves with such precision, it makes you cum embarrassingly fast.

-That is if he allows you to cum in the first place. He's a big fan of edging, which shouldn't be a surprise. He likes to get you so close, then deny you of your pleasure. Your whining and grumbling is the cutest thing on all of earthbread, don't you know? He can't help but edge you when you're so damn cute every time.

-Your pleasure is in his hands, and it requires such relinquishing of power and trust. In a weird way it makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside, especially when you thank him over and over once he finally allows you to come undone after hours of teasing.

-Speaking of, he is a big fan of being praised for the work he does on you. Your moans and pleas are reward enough, but if you mumble out about how good you feel, how much you love him, how amazing he is he'll become drunk on your praise. Chasing after it with fervor, meaning he's going down on you with so much more excitement somehow.

-He's into blood (jam?) play. He likes leaving physical reminders of your relationship all over your body (yes, even ur vag/dick if you let him). With how sharp his teeth are, it's impossible for you not to bleed when he does so, and he does really like the sight of your jam. It's so pretty and so different from his own, another reminder of how different you are, and how much you trust him. (He'll lick it up and purr at the taste.)

-Bruises are also littered about your dough, his grip on you is tight, like you might slip away from him. The treatment is rough and harsh, but it feels so nice to be manhandled by him. The bruises are just nice little reminders of who you belong to. (He gets all proud when other cookies worry about them, like he's done something worthy of praise).

-He likes watching, he's very much a voyeur. Occasionally requests that you pleasure yourself for him so he can watch you struggle to get off, and he'll only help you out when you're near tears begging him.

-He prefers coming across you by himself, without having to request it. Or just feeling waves of pleasure through your bite. He'll watch you quietly fuck yourself without letting you know he's there. (Though, you most certainly can feel his eyes on you, that's what makes it so fun right?) Sometimes he'll join you after, and other and times he'll leave you be, it's 50/50 either way and regardless you still end up happy.

-If anyone else walks in on you when you're alone, he's very unpleasant. Accident or not they'll learn to be more aware of their surroundings next time.

-That doesn't mean he's against being watched though. Actually, he finds the idea of someone else seeing how well he treats you enticing (especially if it's someone like Pure Vanilla hehe). If you are together and someone walks in (or spots you in public), he won't stop. Instead, he'll lock eyes with them and smile big and wide, showing off his favorite little dolly for them.

-He's just so proud of you, and you're so very pretty beneath him, the whole world should get to see how you fall apart for him. He'll even make you look at them just to see how you fluster.

-If the offender tries to do anything other than watch, though, well... I really hope they didn't want to live for much longer. He's very much not a sharer, at all. The idea of anyone even thinking they could touch you and make you feel good both makes him laugh and want to tear them apart at once.

-He's very much into roleplaying and can get really into it. To the point, it loses the sexiness and is just the two of you playing around, which can be a bummer but is usually really fun. He likes things that lean into power dynamics but explicitly avoids god/king and worshipper/subject. A little too close to home for him, and would honestly be too boring and basic for him.

-He loves it when you dress up for him in pretty little outfits, be it lingerie or something more cutesy, he adores it regardless. Going out of your way to pretty up for him is a huge turn-on. He also loves it when you let him dress you up how he likes. Regardless of what you're wearing, it's not coming off the whole night. It will get ruined and he won't apologize for it. Besides, he can just replace it, right?

-Sex is more fun for him, but he can be intimate when he wants to be. Usually, when you're in control, he is at his most gentle. Yes, he's a brat when he bottoms and he'll fight you tooth and nail, but once you get him to submit he's the softest and sweetest you've ever seen him.

-He looks at you like you're the god, wide eyes taking in everything you do with such admiration it might make you crumble on the spot.

-He's much quieter, treating it less like a spectacle. Moans soft and squeaky, like he's not used to using his voice in such a way. He clings to you like a vice at each little movement, almost afraid you might disappear if he lets you go.

-Oh, and he praises you so much. 'So good', 'Thank you', 'You're perfect', and 'I love you' all tumble from him with such genuine gratitude.

-Being allowed to let his guard down and have you take control is cathartic for him, which is why it's so uncommon to have it happen. It's why he fights you for control so hard because this is an intimacy he isn't used to. It is hard for him to allow you to see him so weak, but you never use it against him. You're so very sweet and loving, and it makes him melt like butter in your grasp.

-If you have the bite I mentioned earlier, it only makes things so much more intense. Both of you can feel the raw emotion connecting the two of you, making the pleasure heighten further.

-In fact, when he gives you the bite it's the first time he allows you to top him. To connect you to him makes him very vulnerable, so he would naturally have to be in a vulnerable state already when he does so.

-It's unlike any of his other bites, it's far more painful when he initially bites down, but when his magic flows through it your body feels light and airy. The pleasurable feeling wrapping itself around your spine, and you feel what he's feeling. All that adoration pours into your being at once, and it's overwhelming to really feel how much he loves you.

[donvampiro]

hello! I was wondering if you could write something with the monster trio+law with a clairvoyant reader where she can’t tell ghosts from real people and she sees ghosts on there ships and just starts freaking out cause they still retain the look of when they died. Please and thank u!

hii Anon! hope you’re doing well :) this is a very interesting concept! i really enjoyed writing these HCs. careful though because, as stated in my rules post, it’s max 3 chars when it comes to requests. but maybe you’re new to my blog so it’s totally fine Anon, don’t worry ❤️ i still added Law because i feel like this request really fits him indeed hehe. in any case, hope this post will meet your expectations! Love <3

MASTERLIST - Welcome

***

'Shadows of the past'

Monster trio & Law x (clairvoyant) fem!reader

Warning: mention of death & mourning, physical injuries & blood. contains some spoilers (Marineford ; Dressrosa) as well btw

Monkey D. Luffy

tbh i think Luffy would find your powers kinda cool at first, like he wouldn’t immediately get the measure of your concerns and the harm that your visions might cause you, particularly in their tragic, even traumatic nature

every time he'd hear you scream or saw you shudder, seized by fear because you thought you were meeting a “real” person whose body was more or less in good condition, he’d quickly comfort you, offering you a big smile and patting your back or your shoulder with a gentleness that is always reserved for you.

‘c’mon, (y/n), no need to be afraid! think about saying hello to those people instead. oh! say hello to them from me too!’

Luffy’s carefreeness about your natural gifts wouldn’t last forever though. it would only be after a very concrete event that he’d realize the weight on your shoulders that your power can be on a daily basis. in short, he would need a kind of trigger.

maybe it would happen while you’re both sitting on the deck of the Sunny, taking some time for yourselves and stargazing after a nice meal, a little celebration, who knows. smiling, Luffy seems somewhat lost in thought though. his hand is soft yet slightly calloused as it envelops yours in a comfortable silence; but as you’d turn to him, you couldn’t hold back a gasp, more vocal than you’d have liked, and Luffy would instantly turn to you, alerted.

‘(y/n)? what’s up with ya? everything’s okay?’

it was the first time you saw that while looking at your captain for some reason. you saw him, yes, next to Luffy — this bloodstained individual, covered in wounds, and whose cheekbones, although magnificently freckled, could not, however, soften the sight of his fiercely pierced abdomen. his mouth is dripping with blood but his smile is peaceful as he looks at Luffy, before your eyes meet.

your own heart drums facing his stopped one. you know who he is. of course you do. how could you not know? Luffy has told you about him so many times, in that voice that now made you question whether to answer, tell your captain what you're seeing or not. but your ragged breath, bulging eyes, and the light film of sweat coating your face leave you little room for hesitation as Luffy grabs your shoulder and shakes it lightly.

‘hey (y/n). are you seeing things again? tell me.’

reveal the truth in a low voice and you’ll see Luffy’s eyebrows furrow, in an expression that mixes all the emotions in existence. his eyes are lost in the void of his thoughts for a second before looking all around him, searching and calling his brother, finding you.

‘he’s here?! like, where? behind me? can you talk to him? wait, do you think he can still eat like, real food? or ghost food? i’m sure Sanji knows how to make ghost food anyway. i mean, we could have another meal so he can be with us! oh, and tell him that i—’

he talks a lot and his eyes are glassy, ​​with a tearful glint that doesn’t escape your gaze despite his huge smile. you stifle your own sobs, feeling the weight of Luffy’s grief as you see Ace’s ghost disappear into the starry night, in a painfully soft gaze. you shake your head in a sorry sigh, and your captain almost automatically stops speaking. his smile fades away — there’s no need to say more. he contemplates you for a moment, before lowering his head slightly and caging you in a long, silent hug.

that night, Luffy understood the weight of your powers, understood your fears. the ashes of the past were indeed frightening.

Roronoa Zoro

really, Zoro can’t help but be puzzled every time he sees you freaking out like this, shouting about how there’s such and such corpses wandering on the deck of the ship or the streets of some island where you and the crew made a stopover. the swordsman would never delve too deeply into your emotions when they’re negative; not that he’s not interested, but that he prefers to keep things simple between you two and avoid making you overthink.

still, he would always try to reassure you, and he’d do so assertively — without digressions or innuendos — but always wanting to make things easier for you and so that you’d no longer have to worry about seeing these deceased people, more alive than ever in your eyes though.

‘there’s no reason to be so scared, (y/n). these guys are no longer among us, they won’t hurt you. i wouldn’t let them anyway.’

his tone was gruff, but you knew better. Zoro was always protective of you, and you were grateful, but it wasn’t that simple. meeting lifeless gazes, looking at bloodied, weakened, sick or whatever bodies — you were seeing bereavement and pain personified all around you, almost every day, and you couldn’t shake your fears, despite your best efforts and the swordsman’s reassuring words.

this is why your sleep would be regularly stolen by these bloodstained specters wandering around, and today would be no exception, even if you’re snuggled up to Zoro — who seems deeply asleep. it was he who had suggested a nap together, to calm you down, but obviously the task was more difficult than expected.

despite your eyes being firmly closed, sealed so as not to see these presences you were feeling, you couldn't help but fidget, scared. in order to calm yourself down, you decided to get up and go get a glass of water in the kitchen. you stepped out of the cabin and the air was mild. everything was (very) surprisingly peaceful, and you took the time to enjoy the moment as you filled your glass, before slowly heading back to the cabin.

but as you open the door, you’re greeted not by Zoro’s sleeping figure, but by a bloodstained and destroyed body, which finally passes through you to continue on its way. terror makes you drop your glass and it crashes right into the cabin entrance as you scream.

the swordsman is jolted from his sleep and instantly turns to you, his gaze alert as he reaches for his swords — but you stop him, pointing at the broken glass dotting the floor; and your shaky voice immediately makes him understand what happened.

Zoro sighs and leaves the bed for a moment to come and get you, dodging the shards of glass before finally picking you up and carrying you, so that you both collapse on the bed, never breaking your embrace. he can feel your heart pounding in your chest as he whispers in your ear.

‘saw sordid stuff again?’

his voice is calm as your respective eyes meet. his gaze is stern, focused, attentive. you nod, and it’s in a — sweet, only for you — whisper that he concedes that it can’t be easy every day. maybe you need to talk about it more than he thought, after all. Zoro tightens his embrace around you, petting your hair as he lets a comfortable silence settle, before questioning you in a solemn yet uncertain tone.

‘hey, by any chance… have you ever seen, like, in your visions… a young girl with a sword?’

Vinsmoke Sanji

Sanji would be a great listener and always there to reassure you when your visions frighten you. he would empathize and understand the weight your powers can represent; so you can count on him to give you all the affection and consideration you need.

he is supportive. his goal would be to make sure that you don’t feel alone in the middle of all these more or less bloodstained ghosts, so that, whenever fear seizes you, he can be there to comfort you and bring you back to the world of the living.

in that sense, it would probably lead you to be more comfortable with your powers and to be able to talk about them more openly. you would be less afraid. and it’s sitting in the kitchen while Sanji is busy at his stove that you’d talk about this and that, your voice a sweet melody for the attentive ears of the cook.

‘you know, i’ve already seen ghosts around you.’

– ‘ah? they should be more interested in you, (y/n)-chwan, you’re so much prettier.’, he’d reply, and you could hear the smile on his face.

you couldn’t stifle a laugh. with Sanji, things always seemed less dramatic, less scary. it was as if you could face all the troubles in this world but you could always get back up.

your laughter was nevertheless cut short by the presence you felt. you couldn’t help but shudder slightly and your eyes, riveted on the cook’s busy hands so far, eventually lifted towards a ghost behind him. this very ghost was also watching with great interest the recipe being prepared, all the while smiling tenderly.

‘there's one behind you right now, by the way.’

– ‘really?’, he chuckled, without taking his eyes off the vegetable he was cutting. ‘and what do they look like? not too… damaged, i hope.’

– ‘it’s a lady. a very beautiful lady.’

Sanji slowed down his cutting, his mind troubled for a moment. he certainly knew how to appreciate women, all women, but something inside him told him that this woman was different. what interest could the ghost of a dead woman possibly have in him? Unless…

‘(y/n), could you please… describe her?’

he had put down his knife, and the uncertain tone of his voice encouraged you to respond positively to his request; nodding then describing as best you could the woman standing next to him, looking at him with a soft smile.

as you spoke, the cook’s features tensed up, and you could see that he was holding back just about everything that came up to him. words, tears, everything. so you ventured to ask a few questions.

‘do you know this person?’, you’d ask timidly.

and maybe it was now up to you to lend an ear to Sanji’s sensitivity.

bonus:

Trafalgar D. Water Law

talking to Law about your powers would be complicated at first. in fact, he would have a hard time understanding why you would be so moved by every vision you have when it’s “just” part of your abilities. he would have a hard time understanding why you would continue to be afraid even though you’re aware of these powers of yours. everything would seem so… irrational to him.

You were coping with the situation as best you could — if he couldn’t understand, you weren’t going to force him. still, that was before you noticed this person. an individual that, as usual, you had taken for a living person, before noticing their bruised appearance and their spectral nature. this person who followed Law almost everywhere.

it was embarrassing, frightening at times, because this ghost’s presence was unpredictable and random, so you often found yourself jumping out of your skin and screaming in the middle of a conversation when they appeared, with Law looking at you in perplexity.

so you had decided to avoid Law a little, just to spare yourself a little, and to avoid having to broach this subject which you already had the feeling he wouldn’t be very receptive to.

however, Law, for his part, was actually very receptive to the fact that you were avoiding him. he saw it perfectly, and also felt that there was something you wanted to tell him, but didn’t dare to, or something like that. he felt lost about it: you knew you could tell him anything, right? or, had he done something that made you no longer feel comfortable talking to him?...

Law would confront you directly about it, not wanting to beat around the bush; and his heart was beating a little faster than he anticipated as he saw you searching for words.

‘well, i… i see… i often see a tall man around you, his face made up, with a large black coat, he’s very injured, with blood all over his face and… so… it makes me…’

– ‘“it makes you” what? what am i supposed to do?’

something snapped in his mind and his reply came out on its own, in a way harsher tone than he would have liked. Law’s grip on his nodachi tightens as he frowns. he looks hurt by this information over which you actually have no control. you shake your head — you knew he wouldn’t understand anyway, that he would only see your visions and fears as irrational, as always. you look away.

‘... nevermind.’

you start walking away, and Law runs his hand over his face with a heavy sigh, trying to process what just happened, and realizing his words were far too harsh. facing the loss of those who matter to us is already a trial. but seeing death walking around every day, even in moments that should give us rest… yeah, he too would freak out facing those kinds of visions eventually.

‘(y/n), wait’, he calls, catching up with you quickly. his voice remains monotonous, but you still hear the softness he always reserves for you. ‘i worded my question poorly. i… yeah, i think we should indeed discuss all this.’

you turn to him, your respective gazes seeking each other, and in his eyes lay torment as well as the apologies he can’t seem to voice. you nod, and he mutters.

‘i will try to understand.’

[venomvalley]

Do you accept requests? If so, I thought of a fic where Sevika teaches the reader how to play that card game she plays so much, and then the reader ends up getting addicted and keeps begging Sevika to play with her

TWO OF A KIND

sevika x fem!reader | 2.6k words

TAGS: mentions of drinking and smoking. this is actually cute

NOTES: im so obsessed with this request u have no idea thank u !!!! btw i have no idea how the card game works so uh

“No, not that one. This one.”

You're ready to flip the damn table, cards and coins and all. With her lack of patience and her proficiency at the game, Sevika proves time and time again to be a horrible teacher. Especially when there's real money on the line.

You fight against the arm slung around your waist to turn and glare at her, the lights of The Last Drop bathing her in soft, orange-toned shadows. “Sev, you just said that these two make a pair.”

“Save those for when you have a better hand. Your cards are shit right now.”

The man across from you, rosy-cheeked and burly, exhales a wheezing laugh. One of many bar regulars that she often plays with, empathetic to your newborn-gambling plight. “Aw, cut the poor woman some slack. She's learning.”

“Well, she needs to learn faster.” At the smack you give to her thigh, she peers down at you, plush lips stretching into a grin. Teasing.

"One of these days, I'll beat you. Mark my words."

Another one of the men leans forward with a toothy grin, canine freshly missing after that fight in the alley last week. "Let's bet on it."

Sevika shakes her head as a cheer echoes around the table. "No. No betting. She's cost me enough money already."

You fidget in her lap as the men grow rowdy, slapping the table with each chant of BET! BET! BET! BET!

"Sevika's just scared I'll win," you yell over the chaos, drink sloshing over the rim of your glass and onto your pants as the man to your left jostles your shoulder in excitement, shoving you a bit too far. If not for the arm around your waist, you would've sprawled out onto the floor.

It doesn't scare you, but it startles you. Makes you gasp in surprise—

The air ices over when a prosthetic hand clamps around his wrist, and he hisses a pained breath through his teeth but doesn't attempt to pull away.

You tap her on the shoulder, cards bent between your fingers, explaining to her that you’re fine to no avail—it’s about the principle. The other men lean away from the building chaos, glancing back and forth between each other.

Well. Game's over.

"What's the number one rule when she," a nod of her head to you, "plays with us?"

He gulps, eyes flickering down to where she holds him. "No touching."

"Exactly." She releases him with a huff, pries the cards from your hand before bending them back to straighten out the crease down the center. "Next time you forget, I'm taking your arm home with me."

Gods, being on the receiving end of her anger must be terrifying. Something you've never had to worry about—usually, the confrontations start because of you. People getting a bit too handsy, making comments she doesn’t appreciate, swearing threats of harm to spite her.

She’s protective of you because she has to be. Still doesn’t talk about the incident on your birthday two years ago, and definitely doesn’t want a repeat.

"Won't happen again," he says, voice small and wavering. Poor man might piss himself right in his chair.

She gives him one last glare before turning back to the table, eyes landing on you, then spreads out your cards directly in front of your face. "Now, where were we?” . . . The weeks continue on much the same. Every weekend, she takes you to the bar to play with your group. Sends you to fetch drinks for the table as she deals out the cards. Tugs you into her lap with a hand around your waist. And you get better with each game, more confident in your decisions as time goes on.

Today is different, though.

You play most of the game on your own, only seeking her knowledge on terms unfamiliar to you. She corrects you in certain rounds, namely the effectiveness of your strategy, but gazes down at you with pretty eyes filled with pride each time you seek out her validation.

And you find yourself genuinely enjoying the experience. A fun way to socialize, good competition, flexing your brain power. The money aspect doesn't personally interest you like it does her, but you understand why she loves playing so much (and you're a lot less sulky about all the times she stayed out late at the bar).

The others go easier on you once you win your very first round with minimal influence from Sevika. The drama from last month is long-forgotten as they cheer in celebration, one of the men leaving to buy your favorite drink as a reward.

Like always, she takes the first sip when he hands it over. You had asked her about it a few weeks back, and she simply shrugged and said, 'I don't trust anyone with you,' the absolute sap of a woman. Every time she's done it since, you like to think of it as her showing her love. A running theme in your relationship: show don't tell. You've always appreciated her approach to things.

But it isn't until late into the night when the game begins to heat up that you get your very own seat, shoved right up against hers. A first for you, a clear sign of your improvement. Finally part of their little group instead of being brushed off as Sevika's decorative lapdog.

Except now, you play against her in earnest. Your first tried and true test. No hints, no help, just the knowledge you've absorbed thus far. You do better than expected. Drop out in third place with her scraping up a win.

This is when your obsession officially begins.

A few months go by, and you find yourself spending more time at your little table in the corner of the bar. More time without her playing alongside you. The guys welcome you with open arms when you stroll through the door by yourself, and you can almost smell her influence. Must've given them a stern talking-to on one of the nights you didn’t feel like playing.

Tonight, though, she accompanies you, only hours back from whatever run Silco sent her on. You had begged her to come with you for the perfect way to end out the week, a good bonding activity, she owes you after being gone four days.

(”Fine. I'll go, but we aren't staying long.”)

And tonight, it happens. You finally win.

Ignore the fact that the whole table is piss drunk, Sevika included, and it's been a solid month of frustration and tears and perhaps a tantrum or two, but you finally did it. By a landslide, to boot.

She pulls you into her lap with a chest-rattling laugh then kisses you hard and messy on the cheek. “That's my girl!”

You soak up her praise and the resounding group's cheers like a sponge, ears flushing with heat, and throw your arms around her neck.

The next morning, she asks about who won the final game, pouting over a piece of toast from the headache thrumming through her skull.

“I did, actually.”

A raise of her eyebrow. “Don't remember you drinking.”

You sputter, brows furrowed in offense. “So? I still won.”

She shrugs, mouth splitting into a teasing grin. “Whatever you say.”

“I did.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

“You're an asshole.”

And yet you press a tender kiss to the top of her head as you pass by the table.

.

.

.

Sevika is gone again, and you need a change of scenery. Your new destination? A club a long ways away from her apartment that she's mentioned a few times before, with a rumored underground lounge perfect for one thing: card playing.

Alright. Well. You've been here for a while longer than you intended, but what else is there to do in the Undercity besides sit at a bar, go clubbing, and eat? (A bit oversimplified, but the general point still stands.) And none of those things are fun when she’s off risking her life at some warehouse or dock or sketchy alleyway.

So you need a distraction, and nothing fills your dopamine tank like winning. And you've done a lot of it over the past two days, to the point where you’re starting to believe that some of the men sitting at your table have a losing fetish.

Or maybe you’ve just gotten that good.

However, the fun stops when a pair of boots pound down the steps into the small room you reside in. The air thick with smoke, three sets of tables and occupied chairs squeezed as close as possible to make room for a small bar and a jukebox.

Sevika ducks through the cramped doorway with a determined furrow to her brow, and you've never felt terrified of her—the sharp search of her gaze—until now.

“Oh shit!”

You shove your chair away from the table and crawl beneath it, knocking your shoulder on its edge. Through the throng of seated legs, you spot her walking around the room, pausing every so often to no doubt ask about you.

She wasn't supposed to be home until tomorrow.

On the other side of the table, the face of the woman you’ve been playing with comes into view. “What the fuck are you doing? We're on the last round!”

Slowly, Sevika's boots move closer to your table, and the scrape of chair legs spins you around. You lock on to her shadowed form, bent uncomfortably at the waist just to pin you with a disapproving glare.

You immediately start begging. “One more game, please—”

“No. I'm cutting you off.”

You crawl out from beneath the table with a frustrated growl, shoulder tender with each movement. “I'm on a winning streak!”

“You haven't been home in two days. Where the hell have you even been sleeping?”

You don't even ask how she knows that. If a rat so much as shits in the street around the Lanes, somebody runs to tell her. Of course your little adventure would trigger alarm bells (namely because you can’t be bothered to go anywhere too far).

Yeah, this is admittedly very odd behavior from you.

The man to your left raises his hand, belches, then almost topples over onto you. “We got an apartment in the next building over. Our girl's been crashing on the couch.”

She slams a hand on the table, knocking over the remaining glasses still filled with liquid (some of which ends up on your favorite pair of pants). Points a murderous finger at the man with an adorable, pouting frown. “First of all, there is no our. And you—” she rounds on you so suddenly you jolt, then grabs you by the arm, “we’re going home.”

A wave of protests echo around the table, and it takes only a single scowl from her for them to concede.

She leads you out of the room and up the steps, eerily silent the whole way.

Once you step out onto the street, she starts on you, furrowed brows hiding the fury in her gaze. “What the hell were you thinking? I was—” she pauses, chin dipping toward her chest for a moment before she looks at you once again. “You seem to forget who I am. Who you are to me.”

Worry leaks through her pores, radiates from her in waves, and she tries to stay calm, to shove the feeling down, but the glimmer in her eyes gives her away.

Any other time, you would comfort her, but your hackles raise at the implication. “That goes both ways, you know.”

“It's different. You know that.”

As if you don't worry yourself sick every time she walks out the door. You fucking love her. How could it be any different? Capability means nothing in the face of statistics. And statistically, there’s always a chance she doesn’t come home

“Why, ‘cause I'm weak? I've lived here all my life, same as you, Sev. You act like I'm incompetent.”

Anger burns hot in your gut, and you turn on your heel to storm off. Up ahead, there's a split in the road that goes either right or left, and you bank on the latter.

A short ways behind you, she calls, “Wrong way, honey.”

You whip around to give her your meanest glare, a sunstorm surging inside you at the sight of her smug grin. Beautiful asshole.

“Thanks,” you spit, leaving her in the dust as you walk as fast as your legs can carry you.

Except you don't. She gives you space to cool off, but the thump of her boots still echo off the pavement. Close enough to look out for you. It's sweet and it shouldn't be because you're angry at her, which pisses you off even more. She's so hard to be mad at when she’s all concerned and protective and soft with you.

Upon realizing that you're totally, completely lost, you stop long enough for her to catch up, and her form quickly appears in the corner of your eye.

“You done sulking?”

All it takes is a glance at her relaxed face and a heavy sigh from your lungs for the remaining upset to dissolve. Because you love her, and you don't like being angry. “Yeah… Sorry for being an asshole.”

“Apology accepted.”

With a scoff, you slap her hard on the ass, quick enough to pull away that her hand just barely misses your wrist. “You're the bigger one, though.”

The startled glare on her face makes your future punishment worth it. She'll catch you unawares, maybe not today or tomorrow or even a week from now, but she'll eventually give as good as she got.

And then the surprise fades away to something tender, face softening.

“I'm sorry, too,” she mutters. “But you know how I am. Can’t protect what I can’t see.”

With an aching chest, you bring her hand to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to the scarred ridge of her knuckles. “Apology accepted.”

The walk home after that is long and quiet, her hand in yours warm and comforting. By the grace of the gods, your outing ends peacefully for once, and spending time with her in such a simple way is a huge plus after being apart for so long (two days—psh).

Once you near her apartment, she finally speaks, a hint of irritation woven between the words. “So. Did you at least win anything?”

You perk up at the question, a toothy smile sore-ing up your face. “Oh, did I?” With a tug to her hand, she stops. Crosses her arms, expectant (and you absolutely don't pay attention to the delicious bulge of her bicep). “Let me show you.” You reach beneath your cloak, and from the pocket of your pants you pull out a hefty coin purse. One she immediately eyes with a raised brow. “You see this?”

“I see it.”

“Who knew that guys around here paid extra to have their asses handed to them by a pretty girl?”

She tries to suppress her mirth. Really, she does. But there's no mistaking the twinkle in her eye or the wide grin that stretches her lips.

“Yep.” You nod, chest puffing with pride as you wield the bag like a prized trophy. “I'm taking my woman out for a night on the town.”

“Not tonight, you aren't.” She rolls her eyes, dragging you along with a warm hand between your shoulder blades. “That was fucking stupid, by the way. Sleeping on a stranger's couch?”

“To be fair, he forgot to mention that he has a wife and kid.”

“That doesn't matter.”

“She fixed me breakfast, Sev.”

“I fix you breakfast.”

“Yeah, but mom breakfast tastes different.”

She heaves a resigned sigh and runs a hand over her tiny ponytail. “I've created a monster.”

[thecuriousbeauty]

during the early shows of the "live on tour" era, when him were still performing in theaters, harry couldn’t take his eyes off a fan while he was on stage. so he takes her to the backstage after the show (or to his hotel room).

That Special Girl- Harry Styles x reader (Fluff)

A/N:-Put a little spin to this, I hope you all like it! Thank you for the request anon, and for patiently waiting! Please like and reblog to support me, xx.

Word count: 1.7K

________________________________________

You don’t usually take this route on your morning runs, but today, you were craving those soft, buttery, warm croissants from the bakery down the street for breakfast. You definitely deserved it after your run. And today was going to be a very special day in your life, you needed to start the day right. So you didn’t mind the mild crowd you had to run through to make it to the bakery.

All you could think about was going to your first Harry Styles’ concert that evening! He was finally coming to your city and you weren’t going to let go of the opportunity to see one of your favorite singers perform live. Sadly, your best friend couldn’t go with you, so you were going alone but you were sure you’d make friends once you got there. That was also something you were excited about. Being around so many people who share your same interests. 

Just as you were about to enter the bakery, you saw someone familiar on their morning run. Your eyes squinted to make sure what they were seeing was really true. 

Wow, even before you got to the concert.

It was Harry Styles!

He was wearing a grey sweatshirt and blue shorts, shades protecting his eyes. You had to try so hard not to freak out, because the last thing you wanted was to be like some of those crazy fans. You admired Harry, yes, but you believed everyone, celebrity or not, should have the privacy of at least not getting disturbed while on their morning run. 

He was running towards where you came from, where you knew there was a crowd, so even though you were nervous and not quite sure if the words would form proper sentences once you opened your mouth, you decided to warn him.

“U-Uh, Harry?”, you spoke as he was just about to whizz past you, and he stopped. You couldn’t read his expression very well, but you continued. “You don’t wanna run that way, it’s pretty crowded.”

While you were talking, he tapped on his phone, probably to stop the music from his ear pods. “Oh. Oh, okay.”, he said, a little surprised. He probably thought you stopped him for a photo or something. He stared at you for a few seconds, while you were wondering if you had made any mistakes in the one sentence you spoke .

“I-I’ll go back the same way, then. Thanks, love.”, he smiled, dimples popping and although you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew they were crinkling. 

“Yeah, of course.”, you smiled back. “Good luck for the show tonight!”, it slipped out before you could think if it was okay to say.

“Thank you! Are you coming?”, he asks, still smiling.

“I am, actually.”

“That’s amazing. I’ll see you tonight, then, love. Gotta go now, thanks again. Bye bye.”

“Bye bye”, you find yourself repeating, and Harry chuckles before running away. You’re still in a daze as you turn to the bakery, almost hitting your head on the transparent glass door, not realizing that you have to open it. You laugh at yourself, and open the door, the smell of those delicious croissants making you beam. Today was going to be a great day.

______________________________________________

“I’ll take so many videos for you.”, you tell your best friend through a video call as you do your hair, getting ready for the show. 

“You better! You look so hot, y/n, I won’t be surprised if Harry himself falls for you.”, she says, winking at you through the screen and you laugh. You had picked out a black top, with a translucent sparkly cover on top, pairing it with a silver skirt. You did your makeup minimally, except for your eyes, you put on some shimmery eye shadow. Once you were ready, you said bye to your best friend and got going.

You reach the venue, chatting up with a few girls immediately, sharing bracelets and just sharing where you’re all from. You were led to your places when the show was about to start, and you had fun while the opening act was going on. You weren’t dancing yet though, you were saving your energy for when Harry would take the stage.

And finally, there he was. The man you saw in the morning, except now he was radiating more confidence and charm. He was up there probably doing his favorite thing in the world. He looked incredibly attractive in his outfit for the night, silky light blue pants paired with a pink and blue jacket. The color combinations complimented his features wonderfully, not to mention the perfectly placed tattoos over his chest and abdomen.

You sang along with the rest of the crowd as Harry started Music for a Sushi Restaurant. Harry was running around all over the stage, and his eyes were drifting around, looking everywhere while he continued to sing. It seemed like he was searching for something, or someone. 

When he gets to your side of the stage, for a minute, you feel like his eyes meet yours, and you’re not able to make sure because of all the lighting and there are a lot of people around you. But you can confirm he was indeed looking at you, because he grins as he brings his hand up and gives you a wave. 

You gasp and wave back. He remembers you from the morning!

For the rest of the show, you noticed that Harry was coming to your side of the stage quite often, and even looking at you as you sang the lyrics back to him. He would even lean over slightly, almost as if he was directly singing to you. You enjoyed all the songs and Harry’s energy was infectious. He kept bouncing around the stage, cracking jokes, reading out signs, making people happy and being the man he is. During the last song, which was Kiwi, he did his little dance and you did the same with your new friend next to you, and he stopped to watch you both, amused.

“Oh my god, he liked our dance!”, she squeals next to you.

You definitely had a lot to tell your best friend.

You’re having mixed feelings by the end of the show. Happy because you had THE BEST night ever, and sad because it’s over. You were gonna have to say goodbye to your new friends, and to Harry. 

Little did you know, Harry had different plans.

_______________________________________________

Harry couldn’t stop thinking about you. Even as he was running through the crowd to go backstage, escorted by the security, he was looking over to where you stood, hoping to catch another glimpse of you.

But he couldn’t find you. He was too taken back by your beauty and kindness that he even forgot to ask your name in the morning. But he wasn’t gonna give up. He needed a chance to see you again.

So he asked his security to find you, telling them where you had been for the show. 

“Well this is a first, special girl eh, mate?”, Mitch teases him backstage, chugging down some cold water. 

“I’m just curious to know more about her.”, Harry says, not denying what Mitch had said. Clearly everyone in his band had noticed that he was watching a particular someone in the crowd. He thought he hadn’t made it so obvious.

Harry walked around, adrenaline still pumping through his veins, and Sarah passed him some water too. “Calm down, H, they’ll find her. Even if they can’t, if you really want to see her, we’ll figure something out.”

“How?”, he asked.

Sarah winked. “Leave that to me. Your fans are capable of a lot of things, you know.”

Harry didn’t question that. 

To his absolute delight, security had indeed found you, and Harry rushed into a separate room to meet you, not wanting to scare you with the whole band. He thought you would probably be nervous about all of this too.

There you stood, clutching your bag in one hand, your arm covered with bracelets, and his eyes shifted to your face, seeing you up close for the second time today. 

God, you were gorgeous.

Strikingly beautiful eyes that he was finding a hard time looking away from the whole evening. Perfect, soft features and your smile had him smiling ear to ear. 

“Am I in trouble?”, you asked nervously.

“Oh no, sorry love, I just didn’t get your name. I wanted to thank you again for this morning.”, he said. 

“Oh! It’s all good, I hate being interrupted during my morning run too. I’m y/n!”, you smile, and Harry extends his hand, shaking yours. “Hello, y/n, I’m Harry.”

You giggle, finding it funny that he was introducing himself and he can’t help but laugh. “Nice to meet you, Harry. The show was amazing, like crazy.”

“Yeah? I’m glad you enjoyed it, love.”, Harry says happily. “I didn’t spook you out sending the security behind you did I?”

“Kinda. I really thought I was in trouble for taking a shot the girl next to me offered or something..”

Harry laughs, and you smile sheepishly. “You all did shots without me?”, he asked, a fake hurt tone to his voice.

“Oh no, did you wanna do one?”

Harry shakes his head, dimples popping. “Just kidding, y/n. I just wanted to get to know you a little bit. You had my attention the whole night.”

You blush, not knowing what to reply, really just saying, “Oh..um..”

“Do you want to go hang out for a while? If it’s okay, of course. It’s completely fine if it’s not, it is late and you must have places to be-”, Harry starts rambling nervously.

“I’d love to!”, you piped up, and his grin widened. “Yeah?”

It’s true that no one believes in love at first sight, until they meet that one special person who comes along and steals their heart.

__________________________________________

Taglist: Taglist: -@livypops12352568 @harrydeary, @harryswifee, @harrysbxtchh, @gracelovesethan, @kiwitsayedsugar, @angeldavis777,@madstyles3204, @youngpastafanmug, @fruity-harry, @wannaliveinparadise @hermionelove

Let me know if you want me to add you to my taglist or if there are any changes, love you all so much.

[sanjisboyfie]

sanji has a crush you ♡

-> alternative title: sanji's ass is gay as fuck and you gotta deal with his flustered ass desperately trying to win you over.

-> kinda rushed aat the end

sanji is exhibiting normal sanji behavior, cutely obsessed with you and everything about you. he's soooooooooooooooooo obsessed. i'm sorry i couldnt help it. forewarning: if you are scared of obsessively in love men DO NOT READ THIS lmfao (that's a joke, but he is rlly in love w u and overwhelmingly so)

sanji x male reader

— just sanji crushing on you and acting like a whole ass middle schooler with a crush, but not in the "i'm gonna pull your hair because i like you, but i don't want you to know" type of way, rather a, "i, uhm, found this pretty flower that...i think you would like...do you like it :3"

you were lounging on the deck of sunny, basking in the sun beside robin and nami. the three of you were peacefully enjoying the breeze, while the girls were talking about their recent adventures and you happily listening on to their stories.

when suddenly, a shadow covers the sun from hitting your skin. lifting the glasses from your eyes, you grin when you notice that the figure is sanji. and he's looking everywhere but you.

"hi, [name]," he greets in a quiet voice, eyes darting everywhere but your bare torso. if he were to look at your glistening skin any longer, he might just get a really bad nosebleed...it was tempting for him, though. you were so handsome, he'd get as many deadly nosebleeds if he needed to just to stare at you longer. but for the sake of keeping you clean of his nosebleed, he continued averting his eyes.

robin and nami stopped their chatter and smiled at each other when they recognized the flustered look on sanji's face.

"hi, sanji," you said in return, leaning against your elbows to comfortably look up at him, "what's that you have there?" you ask politely,

the blonde jumped at the question, clearing his throat as he finally met your eyes, "oh, this, i thought you'd want a drink...it's your favorite," your eyes widened at that, making sanji's heart do leaps.

at moments like this, he loves being the ship's chef. there was no one else on board that could make you react like this, only his careful expertise as being a chef could do this to you. it made him feel important and his face got redder at that fact.

"wow! thanks! you're like a mind reader, i was starting to get a bit too hot-"

"do you want me to move the umbrella more to cover you?" sanji asked immediately, happy to be of service to you. you laughed at his eagerness, shaking your head.

"i think nami and robin are using it right now, i'll be alright. i don't want them to burn up,"

"oh..." sanji's voice trailed off as he lifted his head to bravely look towards the women on the side, "nami-san, robin-chan, is it alright if [name] uses the umbrella for now?" he very politely asked, shoulders square and head held high.

nami laughed at him while robin took it upon herself to answer, "no, it's alright with us," and sanji was bolting over to lift the umbrella and position it right above you, a meek, but proud smile on his face.

"sanji, you didn't have to," you said softly, but then you thanked him for his efforst in making you comfortable. that was enough to make him burst into a tomato red color. "and, by the way, this is delicious! i love it so much, sanji,"

"i love you so much."

"sorry?"

"oh, nothing!! i didn't say anything, [name]!! i said, nothing!!!" and he was running off before you could tease him further.

he slammed the door to the kitchen shut and then repeatedly hit his head against the wood as he muttered degrading words to himself, "idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot!!!"

"well, you are an idiot, we knew that, but now you're acting borderline insane, what's up with you, pervy cook?"

of course, zoro had to be in the kitchen. sanji whipped his head around and screamed at the top of his lungs, "out of my kitchen, marimo!!!"

this made zoro laugh in his face and then leave at his request, muttering something about how love sick sanji was and how obvious he was about it.

— sanji carefully crafted each dish he makes for you, making it look pretty and extra nice. cooking is his speciality and acts of service are his love language. combining the two is the closest he can get to confessing his actual feelings to you.

the crew was lively in the kitchen and you were hidden away in the crow's nest. sanji had drowned you in treats throughout the day, leaving your appetite for the dinner not very big. you assured him (more than 20 times) that you indeed felt full, you weren't skipping meals, and you were already satisfied. that was the only way he let you skip out on dinner.

but while the crew was eating, sanji was still behind the stove. his fingers nimbly moved in decorating the platter very carefully, holding his breath every now and then in anticipation.

"whatcha making, sanji?! extras for me?!" luffy excitedly asked, coming bounding around the counter and standing beside the chef.

immediately, sanji kicked him away and warned him, "do not!! touch this, this isn't yours, luffy! i'm serious, don't even think about it!" sanji looked at the men of the crew, "that goes for the rest of you too, this isn't yours, filthy batards!" and his voice softened as he spoke with a smile to robin and nami, "if you want a dessert, ladies, i wouldn't mind making seconds for you two!"

"it's alright, sanji-kun, just focus on making [name]'s," nami said with a wave of her hand, a knowing look in her eyes.

"yes, i am quite full of the dinner you served already. it was delicious as usual,"

there wasn't a grand shift of emotion on sanji's face as he politely thanked the ladies for their kind words. but then his cheeks erupted in color when he finally caught on to what nami said, "ah! no, no, this isn't for [name]-"

"there's no denying it, sanji, just keep spoiling him rotten and leaving us to starve. even if he is a man just like us, for some reason he's not a "filthy bastard" but [name]~" usopp said in exasperation, eyeing the dessert sanji was making with longing, "we wouldn't expect you to spare us any of that...anyway..."

sanji's red face from embarassmnet instead turned into one of annoyance, "shut your mouth and quit complaining! i'm not spoiling him - he deserves this! he didn't come and eat dinner with you guys, meaning there was more servings for you! be thankful to him! ... and don't call him a filthy bastard!! he's very clean and neat, unlike you guys!"

"ah, yes, lord and savior [name]!" usopp said, clapping his hands together as if he were praying to the man, "i wish he were here right now, though, to save us from sanji's fury, ughh," usopp sighed at the end of his sentence, making sanji's eyebrow quirk in annoyance.

"calling me a god, usopp?" your voice rang in the dining hall, making everyone's heads snap to you. "that's a pretty hefty title,"

"woah, that was just like that enel guy - you came when we summoned you! do you have ears all around sunny, [name]?" luffy asked, wonder in his eyes as he walked towards the door, "you should teach us that sometime!"

you smiled at your captain, allowing him to pass you with ease as he went to blow off his energy on the deck. chopper and usopp grinned at you as they followed after luffy, going to entertain each other. robin and nami walked past with kind smiles, the orange haired girl winking at you. franky pat you on the back, a thumbs up being thrown at you, only making you more confused about what you possibly missed.

brook was singing on his way out, something about young, forbidden love. you didn't see it, but sanji threw his head in his hands in embarassment. zoro was the last to leave, whispering to you to, "fix the idiot cook already, it's getting tiring dealing with his bullshit everyday," and then leaving you with no other explanation.

"what was up with all that," you rhetorically asked, chuckling underneath your breath and making sanji just shake his head in response. "sanji, did you forget to serve that to robin and nami? if you want, i can give it to them?"

sanji shot his hand out, catching your own that was reaching for the plate he was just preparing. realizing his actions, he immediately released you from his hold and shook his head, "no, no, it's...um...it's not for them."

the blonde cursed himself in his head, wishing he didn't become so blubbery in his words whenever he spoke to you. but he couldn't control it! not when you were looking at him so gently, so patiently. god, just thinking about you looking at him made him weak in the knees. because that meant you were just focusing on him. sure, you could be thinking of others things that weren't him (his heart literally shatters at that notion), but in the moment, you were physically turned to and only paying attention to him.

it made him almost sigh dreamily. his heart was already beating faster and his stomach was filled with butterflies.

"they're not?" you leaned over the counter, taking a seat as you did so.

"no, they're," he took in a deep breath, fists clenched at his sides, "they're for you,"

your eyes widened. and sanji internally cursed you for being so effortlessly handsome, while tilting your head in confusion, "but, sanji, i told you you don't need to prepa-"

"i wanted to," sanji cut you off, quickly apologized for doing so, before continuing, "i wanted to make your favorite, just to give you something to eat before bed,"

you smiled, and sanji internally cursed you again for being so sweet, and gently rubbed his arm, "thanks, sanji, you're so kind,"

he bit his lip in content, trying to hide his happiness as he simply nodded his head. there was no way his voice wouldn't shake if he spoke now.

wordlessly, you moved your hand off of his arm and picked up the spoon from the plate. humming in content once the food hit your tongue to let sanji know that his expertise did, in fact, not fail him.

"it's so delicious, sanji!" he was going to thank you, but was cut off when the spoon you had just used was shoved into his mouth. you were grinning at the surprised look on his face, "let's share!"

sanji got a nosebleed. because the gears in his head quickly turned. the spoon in his mouth, which you just used, meant that you two just...indirectly kissed.

his head flew backwards and blood was streaming down his nose. the last thing he saw before passing out was your worried face above his own.

— sanji often times thinks he looks like an idiot pining over you. he just feels so awkward. he cannot mess this up or else his life might seriously just cease having meaning. he's never felt so serious about someone before. it was always fleeting thoughts of how someone was attractive in his eyes. now, with you in front of him everyday, looking like an actual angel (or handsome devil, both are fitting, he thinks with an odd smile). he just can't help his thoughts from running wild. what if after your pirate adventures, the two of you settled down together? happy. near some shoreline, not a worry in the world. sanji just catches himself thinking of a future with you in it, despite the two of you not even dating or being remotely romantic towards one another...not yet, at least.

it was nighttime and the both of you were on night watch. you were scheduled to be in the crow's nest and sanji confidently took it upon himself to join you out of courtesy. in the crow's nest, you were looking out at the calm sea while sanji was just looking at you, admiring you.

"sanji," you called out, your eyes still trained on the sea, "you've been staring at me for the past 10 minutes,"

the man gulped nervously, wondering if this would be the moment. the moment he finally confessed to you. it's been long enough for him to be sure of his feelings (he was in love with you), this was the perfect setting - just the two of you, and it was all calm.

but what if you rejected him? then his heart would be laid out in front of you, you wouldn't reciprocate, and then you'd have to sail together for however long needed, knowing in the back of your mind. he would know you didn't like him back and you would know that he one-sidedly liked you.

it was too painful of a loss. that was the main reason why he hasn't ever thought about pursuing his confession to you.

"make it 11 minutes now," you chuckled, finally turning your head to him and examining his confused features, "what are you thinking about, sanji?"

you. he bit his tongue to prevent that single word from slipping past his lips.

"nothing," he said quickly, maybe too quickly.

out of nowhere, your hand went to the back of his neck and pulled him in close. he turned rigid at the action immediately, turning into a stiff statue as you stared right into his soul.

"why're you lying to me?" you asked quietly and sanji almost collapsed into your lap and began begging for forgiveness. you, obviously, weren't actually mad or annoyed at him for his little white lie, but sanji didn't want you thinking he lied so easily.

that wasn't a good quality to have as your boyfriend, your lover. so sanji quickly said, "i'm sorry," with a weak tone and looked right into your beautiful e/c eyes with nothing but sorrow.

you could so easily spur an immense amount of strong emotions from sanji. he felt like he was being played like a toy. but, also, he didn't mind. not if it was you. he didn't mind a lot of things if it was you.

"sanji, why do you treat me so differently?" you just saying his name made him feel like he wanted to just collapse on your lap and stay there. be nurtured by you.

"i don't mean to," he answered, "i really don't. i can stop, if it makes you uncomfortable, i'll stop,"

you shook your head and sanji felt some strands of your hair brush against his skin. goosebumps formed at those points. even the strands of your hair made him react so vicerally to you.

"no, that's not what i meant," finally, you released your hold on his neck and leaned back to create a more comfortable space between you two. unconsciously, sanji leaned in towards you. "i mean, have i done some amazing thing to you before? it kind of feels like you're making some thing up to me, like you're repaying a debt..." your voice trailed off awkwardly, "you don't have to act so doting to me, sanji, for whatever reason - especially if it's to repay a debt. i don't want you stressing about something silly like that,"

what? sanji was confused. you thought, this entire time, he was just being nice to you to make up for something. there's no way. he wondered how oblivious you had been ot his advances. have you been unaware this whole time? was he perhaps not acting as obvious as he thought he was?

that was slightly comforting to think about, if that was the case. but also a part of sanji felt as if he failed. he was pursuing you. behind all his blunders of stuttering words, unhealthily red faces - he wanted you to know that he was pursuing you. he wanted to hint at his feelings so you could hopefully pick up on them.

"that's not why i act the way i do," sanji carefully said, watching your reaction. and when your face twisted into confusion, he urged himself to take this chance to continue, "i wanted you to know...want you to know, i mean, that i really, really, really..." he took in a deep breath, offering a weak smile, "i really like you, [name], and i was too scared to tell you like i am now, so i was catering to you to hopefully make it obvious. well, i see how ambiguous that my actions are now and i wish i had done it different so i could properly have wooed you, but, it's too late for that. i wish i had done it more-"

he was cut off when you suddenly moved forward and pressed your lips to his. he melted into your touch immediately, his body reacting so naturally to yours. his eyes fluttered shut, intenally sighing in relief at how his confession did in fact work out in his favor.

and it took a lot out of him to move away from you, but he did need air to breathe, unfortunately. if only he could just breathe you in and live off of you alone.

he sighed, chest heaving as he really wrapped his head around what just happeneed.

"i know," you said softly, a smile on your handsome face that was literally captivating him, "i knew, i mean. just wanted to hear you say it,"

sanji blinked. were you...taunting him? no, teasing was the more appropiate word because you weren't hurting him with your words. but your mischevious grin and glint in your eyes did tell him that you were in fact teasing him.

"uhm, you knew?" he repeated, making you chuckle and pinch his cheek lovingly.

"i wanted you to confess to me," you clarified, leaning forward and playing with the strands of his blonde hair around your finger, "i though you'd sound cute confessing," you leaned in further, lips ghosting over his, "and you did,"

sanji's face was exploding a dangerous shade of red. god, this was so embrassing. but, your lips were on his again and he wiped away any self preservation and completely gave himself to you.

you pulled away quickly, speaking in breathy tones, "i like you a lot too, sanji," his heart skipped multiple beats, then started racing even faster when you gently pushed him down onto the cushioned sofa, "been wanting to kiss you like this since i joined the crew,"

sanji was going to pursue more answers, but your hands carding through his hair made him speechless.

"been wanting to kiss you all over like this for so long," you peppered short kisses all over his skin, making him feel like he was on fire.

"why didn't you?" he quietly asked, making you pull away and grin down at him.

at this point, he was completely laid out on the sofa, his legs spread and hugged around your waist as you leaned yourself over him. the hands on either side of his head felt like a cage that he definitely didn't mind being in. with you looking down at him from above, he wouldn't mind staying there forever.

"i liked imagining you confessing to me," you grinned, "plus, i wasn't sure if you were even into me. i heard from the others that you were exclusviely nice to the women of the ship, so i didn't want to bother pursuing you either."

so, you were basically saying that you and sanji could have been together even sooner if he had just showed more obviously to begin with that he was deeply enamored by you.

sanji was cursing his past self very colorfully right now.

"sorry for being so mean to you, though," a bashful apology was enough for sanji.

and he missed the feeling of your lips on his, so he leaned up to meet you halfway, but you stopped him, "do you forgive me?"

"yes, yes, i do," sanji breaths were hitched from how excited and happy he was.

you grinned at his reaction, feeling proud that you were the cause of it, "aren't you glad we waited, though?"

sanji almost shook his head no on instinct. if he could have had this sooner rather than later, he would've taken the former over the latter any day. you saw the way his head stuttered in place, unsure of the right answer. so you leaned down, right next to his ear and sent shivers down his spine by whispering, "cause this is gonna feel so much better now after such a long wait, right, sanji?"

[skymar13]

Helping 1A with the post war effects

:angst/comfort

Bakugo

When bakugo started to lose his hearing you thought it’d be ideal and give him some reassurance to learn sign to be able to freely communicate with him as well as help him interact with his classmates as well.

Izuku

Izuku had always had scars on his body but now they had almost tripled to the point his body was more scar than skin. When yall would cuddle you’d lightly touch his scars whispering how beautiful they were making him feel less insecure and grounded.

Denki

When Denki came back his brain was fried and he’d have random spells where he would just blank out. The rest of the class made jokes about it but when this happened you’d rub his back waiting for him to come back to reality and when he did he’d js look at you with sorrowful eyes.

Kirishima

Kirishima thought he was unbreakable but when he started falling apart during the war and was actually getting marked up he couldn’t help but feel useless. You stop by to change out his bandages and make him food since he refused to leave and for this he thanked you to no end

Mina

She had carefully manipulated her quirk all the time. Mina had never gotten chemical burns until the battle. Now she had to deal with painful light pink marks across her body. (I have vitiligo so I relate to the insecurity) she hated them thinking they were disgusting and she tried to hide them until you’d kiss each one carefully complementing their shapes and color.

Iida

His engines had blown and were terribly sore it hurt to walk. So you never let iida walk not even to fetch his water bottle that was across the room. You’d taken care of him u til he healed without a question and for this he was forever indebted.

Sero

His arms had been sore and he was all banged up from the falls he’d endured. Sero sat on the sink letting you change his bandages and lay kisses on them afterwards. He leant in to kiss you lips hissing in pain.

Ururaka

Poor had been vomiting all day. Ururaka couldn’t even stand straight without getting nauseous. And even if it was gross you held the bag or pulled her hair back and brought her water and liquid ivs or snacks to make sure she wouldn’t get sick.

Tsuyu

Her tongue had been sliced up to the Gods blood constantly spilling from her mouth. Every time you noticed tsu beginning to bleed you brought her hydrogen peroxide and cleaned her wounds.

Jirou

Her ears had been ringing all day none stop causing her so many head aches. Jirou had experienced too many loud sounds for way too long. The best way you could help was be her quiet you brought her noise canceling headphones and watched 1950s silent movies.

Todoroki

He’d had freezer burns and regular burns all over his body. Todoroki was constantly shaking from the pain he couldn’t touch anything before his nerves would flare up. You’d brought him some aloe Vera and Tylenol you wouldn’t touch him but you stayed with him and that’s all he could ask for.

Tokoyami

He had gotten pretty beaten up back there and shadow hadn’t helped. Tokoyami had barely any control over dark shadow to the point he stopped trying. Luckily you were able to patch him up and calm dark shadow with your words of love and treats.

Hitoshi

He had so many head aches from over use of his quirk. So you stayed in hitoshis dorm making it dark and quiet with just the tv playing as you let him nap with Tylenol on the bed side waiting for him.

Momo

She’d almost completely wrecked her whole body. Momo had felt weak for a while after barely being able to walk across her room without feeling dizzy and nauseated. You brought her some medicine and food and kept her entertained u til she felt better.

[dilf-docs]

Misery Reigns My Lonely Neon Nights

old man!logan x younger fem!reader

summary: logan should've said no. should've just drove the pretty waitress home. that's his job. hers is to serve his cup of coffee to the brim. so why is he riding you to his house?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (cause we have a small daddy kink going on here.. hence the blog name BUT I DO HAVE A GOOD DAD), smut, this reeks of corruption kink for no reason other than me being a virgin whore, like he gets stalker-ish for a second but its logan howlett so we forgive him<3 ya está viejito, brief mention of suicide, sub logan edging on praising kink (if u squint), no protection but u gotta put the hat on the cowboy to ride the horse alr, riding, breeding kink??? angst (the depressing vibes are there cause they follow my writing like a shadow ijbol)

word count: 6,102 words (at the v crack of dawn.. i think i've gone insane FR it's 02:07 am and my brain its eating itself like im gonna start seeing logan in the corner of my room)

side note: newbie here after reading so many fanfics on tumblr but never publishing my own!! its hugh's birthday (well, its past midnight so no more but still!!! it was a couple hours ago) so i figured i should give it a try today cause that man does things to me ESPECIALLY as old man logan i can't lie and say the thought of him fucking me good and slow hasn't crossed my mind too many times 😩 we love sad hot old people in here so naturally my inaguration fic had to be done by him. also, i'm tired of scrapping for votes, comments, and interactions on wattpad so please treat me well during our first:// it's me moving to tumblr it's me hi i'm the problem it's me. i'm a feedback whore so pls leave tons of those!! also, english isn't my first language so if i make a grammar mistake pls do not tell me bc i have no respect for this language ―it just makes me cringe less to write smut on a language that isn't mine lol<3 but if there's any other mistake yes pls do tell me thank u OKAY BYE i needa quit yapping ENJOY dilf town<3

So it started something like this.

It was another simple nightshift for Logan. The weather humid, uncomfortably sticking the fabric of his white button shirt onto his skin. Even with the windows down. Those nights that the driving dragged on for long, like those cigarettes that now made him cough more than relax. The roads felt too long; his eyes too heavy.

Nothing new. Just about what to expect: money short, clients and traffic equally annoying. But that was the problem; nothing was new anymore.

He'd just finish dropping a customer close by, and since the tiring feeling didn't seem to leave his body just yet, a coffee wouldn't hurt. As a matter of fact, the need for a boost to make it home makes him get out of the car and limp his way into the first place his tired vision sees.

The rim of his recently adquired reading glasses slips as he climbs the stairs into the decades old diner, the decoration outdated. He understands; he feels the same way.

Neon lights flash his face when he enters the place and sits in the farthest booth he can find. The air is impregnated in grease and cheap coffee, but he waits at least fifty minutes to order, giving his body some time to rest. In the meanwhile, he tries to distract himself with the newspaper resting on the table, but God knows his eyes are too tired and his mind drifts every two words.

He hopes he doesn't get kicked out, judging from the attentive look he's receiving by a waitress resting on the bar. She looks as bored and tired as he does.

Maybe that's why he chooses her, raising his hand with order in mind. A black coffee. The waitress slides from her position and takes some steps to where he sits.

Her voice is sweet when she introduces herself, and Logan finds himself asking her again what her name is, pretending he's half deaf just to listen to it again.

"It's y/n" you repeat, oh so sickeningly sweet, he might have to skip on asking for sugar.

"Y/n" he savours the name on his lips, trying the tender sound, his eyes darting to the name tag, like he's confirming it. Testing to see if the young woman in front of him is real. Maybe his eyes linger a little too long, and the tip of your ears start to heat. Its the way he examines every feature on your face, like memorizing it in a sense, that makes you squirm. But maybe, just maybe, it's the small―brief, peak he gives to your exposed cleavage, pushing itself against the tight fabric of your uniform what truly gets your heart beating fast.

He looks like what your parents would warn you to stay away and your friends would talk behind your back. Rugged in a way that screams heartbreak, rough around edges your kind nature wishes to soften. It's unresonable to feel this way about a client you just met, but his aloof demeanor peaks your interest, so different from your usual costumers and familiar faces that pop up at the diner.

"Can I order you, darling?" his voice comes out deep, almost passing as a grunt. Just what you imagined it to sound. Why he's acting as his past self so effortlessly, after closing himself off to the point of going by entire days without talking more than three words, is concerning. Why the cute waitress who looks at him with doe eyes, expectant to take his order, is making him break the promise he made to himself not to get attached again―just live by enough to make it to the sea and put a bullet in his head.

"Well, that's just about my job" you joke, feeling confident for no reason. "But you can't order me".

"A damn shame" he chuckles, the sound deep, rumbling on his chest. It's been so long since he's laughed like that: carefree, without that pressing weight on his chest, that despite the sinking notion, sometimes feels more like a hole carved where his heart is supposed to be.

"So..." you trail off, unsure where to proceed after that sound that jolted your entire system awake, "what will you take?"

The banter dies, and Logan is dissapointed when she scribbles the dark coffee on her pretty round letter and walks away. He doesn't miss the sway of her hips, and almost calls her back just to hear her voice again. But he stops himself, because it's getting pathetic.

When she returns with her order, he almost regrets the comeback of his enhaced senses, her honeyed perfume mixed with the bitter smell of the freshly brewed coffee, creating an intoxicating mix.

His lips burn when he sips it, but that doesn't stop him from emptying the cup. Again. And again. All in the name for asking for more coffee, a magnetic force pulling him to the ground, making him forget he's a 200 and something year old man begging like a starved man for at least a fraction of her attention. He feels unworthy of your warmth.

He feigns interest on the newspaper when you return again (he's been stuck on the same paragraph ever since he sat down), the pot in your hands. If you've noticed he's emptied the cups faster than a normal person, you don't ask questions. He's thankful, but can see the amusement and confusion laced across your pretty face.

"More?" you ask, but it's unnecesary. He only nods, and you miss the chatter.

The closeness it's a challenge itself, the uniform's neckline practically shoved down his nose while she fills the cup to the brim. He hears his own heartbeat, the sound averting his attention from another "brief" glance at the cleavage. Is it intentional? Is your goodwill and act? Are you this cruel, playing with an old touch starved man like that?

God knows it's been long since he's had a helping hand during his relief hours.

He can't help it; he's a man, after all. So he seizes the moment and steals a glance. But his eyes meet yours, the wary green clashing with the cozy chocolate. There's warmth on your eyes, and he's looking at your tits like an animal. He pulls away, ashamed. The shirt feels a bit suffocating, and there's sweat on his forehead again. Great, you'll think he's a perv.

"Excuse me" you say, leaving his table. Logan is afraid of having fucked it up for thinking with this dick and not with his head. You were messing too much with his head, and now he'll pay the price. Fair, he thinks, for a perverted old man trying to woo a girl younger and far more innocent than him.

There's benevolance on her smile and blood on his hands.

The whole situation is stupid.

But then he's thinking of excuses (like saying it's his failing eyesight's fault) and something close to an apology, as if he cares a little too much about what you think. And then you come back.

"I forgot to bring you a napkin" she lies, leaving the piece of paper in the middle of the table. You laugh, and Logan let's you because 1. He deserves it, and 2. It's a sound as saccharine as the smell the freshly heated pies emit on the table across him.

You leave before he can even open his mouth, so all he's left with is the napkin that seems to have something written on it. Pervert, he reads, on the same calligraphy you scribbled on your bloc. He can't help but laugh, even with your watchful look on him.

That's how it continued.

Even if he had other rides and more energy to drive, he kept coming to the decaying diner just to see you. Almost as if he was forgetting his desperate need for the money, the boat goal further and further.

"You've forgotten about me" complained Charles, although his tone lacked of bite. "But I'm not mad that you've had".

He'd go on, rambling about living life but Logan just laughed. Yet, maybe he was right. Didn't even need his powers to know it.

Now, you? you simply couldn't get enough of your favorite costumer. Of his late stays until you closed, sometimes not muttering more than necessary, yet his company, even if curt, proved to be what you needed to make it through work, giving you a legitimate reason to yearn the before tedious night shifts.

Despite this two month weird relationship, Logan is as a stranger to you as he was the first day, no matter how many times you've tried to get him to talk. In the end, all your conversation efforts feel more of a monologue than a chat.

He knows about your mom and your dad, one strict the other dead. He knows most of your friends names, what you're studying and what you wanted to. Your dreams and your hopes, your aspirations, failures, and some other things you'd never say to anyone else out loud. All and nothing. And he listens, sometimes asking questions, but never about himself. He never takes the lead.

So frustration from the Logan enigma pours into you, the puzzle pieces layed out over your mind, consuming your thoughts. So now you're stubbornly cleaning the same grease spot on a table you've already wipped before, and that, coincidentally, it's the booth in front of Logan, the permanent resident of your head during these past weeks. You might as well make him start paying rent by now, his power and hold over you ridiculous.

"It's not going anywhere. Take it easy" he mocks you.

There's a bit of annoyance when you reply back, although it's mostly superficial. "Don't know what you're talking about" comes out your dry response, earning a low chuckle from him.

"How about you sit for a moment?" he offers, ignoring your apathy. "You're almost done cleaning up".

If his ever changing attitude isn't enough, closing this night's shift is as tiring.

Logan doesn't expect you to obey, but now you're sitting across from him, and a voice in his head says you maybe feel sorry for this lunatic old man.

You're so close, he can see the eye bags and sorrow you are far tired to try to hide.

"I have to finish cleaning" you explain, "we're about to close".

He doesn't know why he says it, or what takes over him when he says:

"I could wait for you"

He surprises himself and surprises you too.

"No need" you assure, and why does he feel so dissapointed. It's stupid. "My friend picks me up".

Ah, yes. The friend with the perfect stupid smile that picks you up every night. Not like he parks his car until you leave and sees the scene unfold each time, his white knuckle grip on the wheel a bit too much when the young boy opens up your door. Makes him see red, knowing he's your age and maybe the breathe of fresh air you need. Not a man far older, who bears too many sins and scars in and out.

"I see" he says after some minutes in silence, retracting his impulsiveness. "I'm sorry if I made you-"

"No!" you clarify hastily, "it doesn't bother me".

He smiles unconsciously in relief.

"Well, me neither. I insist. If you change your mind" he's practically begging, despite his monotone tone.

But you don't.

The place closes and Logan is forced to get in the car. He lights a cigarette, in no hurry to return home. The lighter lights up while the diner's light goes off. You and your boss come out, biding each other goodbye. She leaves and you're is left alone, hugging your body in the early morning cold. 

He sees you wearing particular clothes, for the first time. He takes a slow drag on his cigarette, eyes running up and down your bare legs, the fragile fabric of the skirt fluttering in the wind. He exhales, watching as you dials your phone several times, getting no response, obviously frustrated.

He mutters something under his breath, and maybe there is a God after all. He starts the car, approaching her, who has already noticed it, probably because of the noise of the engine.

She looks scared, but Logan rolls down the window so she can see it's him.

"Need'a ride?"

Just by his reverberant sound you could accept. But you try to play cool for a while, despite your aching bones and need to get home.

"He doesn't answer" he was right, "my friend".

I know, he wishes to say, but he's the same hot headed asshole who walked through the doors of the X mansion for the first time, so his tone will be laced with irony. He doesn't want you to see him as an intense hot blooded mouth.

I could take you. His head pounds but he shuts the emotions down.

He shoves the knot on his throat down and asks as casually as possible, "do you live close?"

"Just around the corner" you answer. A beat, your frame bending so he can see your face from the driver's sit, the cleavage saying hello again. How considerate of you. "Do you really want to do this?"

Do you really want to do this?

The question rings on his ears. It holds more than just the favor. Logan knows they have a certain tension between them that he no longer wants to ignore. For the first time it seems to be reciprocated; palpable, and he is surprised to hear his heart beating loudly, so accustomed to hearing others' with his sharp senses, constantly forgetting what his own sounds like. Yours also beats erratically, despite your calm composure.

You arch an eyebrow, amused. "I can't believe you waited for me. Your family must be worried."

Logan realizes you're trying to test waters. So he raises his hand discreetly and places it on the door, so you can see the lack of a ring. As expected, your eyes travel to his free finger, and he can swear he sees you breathe with relief, which is funny, because in case you hadn't picked up until now, Logan is very much fucking alone.

"In case you changed your mind," he answers. "I have nowhere else to be."

That is enough of an invitation for you to get in the car.

"I was going to open that door for you" he protests.

You only laugh as you buckle the seatbelt. "It's not that big of a deal, really. You've already done enough for me by doing me the favor".

"It's not that big of a deal" he repeats your words, "as long as I'm of help, that's enough for me".

He smiles wistfully, remembering better times. A part of him still aspires to be that hero everyone loved and remembered, something that clearly doesn't happen anymore (or if it does, it's rare), given the lack of recognition of his former identity in El Paso. He shakes his head, focusing back on the street in front of him. It's too late to get fucking sentimental.

"I like to help too…" you confess, meekly. Logan sighs, how could he not know? "My father used to say that I had the kindest heart he'd ever met. I hope it stays that way, and that when he looks down on me, he's proud".

It hurts Logan to see you be so hard on yourself, as if he didn't do the same.

"I bet all the customers in the place would say you're the sweetest thing they've met", he sees you smile from the corner of his eye, and can't help but emulate it. "Believe me, you're their favorite".

"Thank you, Logan" you say sincerely. However, the affliction that he hates to see crosses your face. So gloomy that you don't even seem the same person.

You wipe away an unexpected tear, but Howlett is faster and notices. You turn around, looking towards the window. Then, you catch a glimpse of his license.

"So… you're a driver" you try to break the silence that Logan has put without knowing why. Maybe to give you some space after being sentimental and opening up again to this closed off wall name Logan, but he knows it's a lie. He's scared. After wanting so much to be closer to you, he cowers, not trusting himself and what he would do trapped in a small space with such an attractive woman. Besides, the tension from the previous conversation was still there.

"You judging me now, honey?" the pet name rolls off his tongue before he catches it. He tries to play it cool, continuing the banter, carrying the same tone. "The only thing necessary to make you trust me was to give you a free ride?

"I'm in your car, Logan. I got in without thinking" you laugh. "I believe that's enough trust"

"Then, I'll keep doing you favors. Maybe if I do…" he trails off.

Your voice drops an octave, provocative. "Maybe what?"

His knuckles grip the steering wheel until they turn white.

"Maybe…" he hesitates, "maybe…"

"It's here" you point out. Shit, Logan curses, braking abruptly without meaning to.

"See you tomorrow" you bid as a goodbye, getting out of the car. Logan misses your smell.

So he sticks his head out the window, like a begging dog.

"How about now?" he says a bit forcefully.

Your face shows surprise and something else.

"You're getting attached" you reply, and he doesn't know why there seems to be sadness in your voice.

"I just keep coming back for the coffee" he defends himself.

You laugh, shaking your head "Now, then. For the coffee, clearly."

"I can leave" he says. Yet, makes no move to leave.

You sigh, giving him one last look. Surrender, he reads.

"You're a driver, right?" he nods, taking in every word coming of your pink plush lips. "Then let's drive off. Anywhere" your voice trails off, and you're just so tired of everything, you'll just let go yourself with the flow. "I'll go wherever you go..."

And this is how it ends.

When you wake up, it's almost dawn.

Logan had suggested you to sleep, claming the road where he was taking you to be long. He had covered you with his jacket, even if your body was burning from nerves.

Why had you agreed? Your mom would probably smack your head in search for some sense, and your reckless friends would encourage you to do it for the sake of a story. But something about Logan makes you feel safe, despite not knowing anything from him. It's sort of a sense of protection―like he would never hurt you, that envelops him. Everyone else would call you crazy; only you can understand that.

When your eyes adjust to the light, you realize you're in a line of cars.

"Did you bring me to the border?" you exclaim groggily, still in a sleepy voice.

"Good morning" he answers instead.

You rub yoou eyes, settling into the passenger seat.

"You're not going to kidnap me, right?" you question, half joking half serious.

Logan laughs, "Not only that. I'm also going to throw your body in a mass grave"

"It's not funny," you pout, although you're laughing too.

Once you've crossed the border, Logan drives a few more minutes, until he reaches a restricted area.

“I live here” he answers before you can ask, “saves rent and questions”

After opening the locks, you can better appreciate the place. Well, appreciate may not be the right word.

“It's an abandoned smelting plant” you voice out loud.

Logan just nods. You realize that he didn't like the comment, so you try not to talk about it anymore.

“Come” he gets out of the car, going to open your door. He offers you a hand, and you fail to hide your smile.

“You didn't miss this time, huh? Quite a gentleman” you praise. Then, add jokingly, “if you choose to kill me, at least I'll die taken care of".

“Stop talking nonsense and go inside” he scolds but smiles.

Inside, the abandoned plant is exactly what you expected.

"We're alone" Logan says, after leaving to check. He opens the door to his room, letting you in. There's not much inside, just a bed and scattered things. A yellowish light begins to filter through the broken glass. "I'mma change. Be right back".

You begin to explore your surroundings, to avoid thinking about the impact of the situation. Two things could happen: leave or stay. Maybe everything was going too fast, but you prided yourself on your spontaneity, often confused with impulsiveness. Others would say it was your naive nature: too innocent for your own good.

What had led you to accept without further ado? Was trust enough, that you had even fallen asleep in his car?

"S'rry for the wait"

You notice that Logan's gotten rid of his formal attire, leaving him in just slacks and an old white tank top. His muscles flex with every movement, making you swallow involuntarily. He still retains his extraordinary physique, despite his greying hair. She can't help but stare at the scars that cover his exposed skin, her fingers itching to trace them.

"Haven't they told ya' t's rude to stare?"

You look away, embarrassed. Logan walks over to the bed, bumping into you in the process, bodies barely touching. Still, an electric shock runs through you. You hug yourself, scared, aware of the effect he has on you.

"Logan" she dares to ask, "what are we doing?"

He finally looks at you. You feel naked under his intense gaze.

"What do you want us to do?"

His voice comes out low, like a growl. You stand in place stiff, unable to form a word.

"Come on, honey", the nickname comes out of his lips so easily, it hurts. "Are ya losing your voice now? Got into my car a while ago without thinkin', what's changed?"

You slowly approach Logan, each stride calculated. He watches you in silence, a silence as hostile as the wind hitting the broken windows, watching you remove your clothes, until all that's left is your bra and that skimpy skirt, as if you knew he liked it.

"Logan…" you whisper his name like a prayer, letting yourself fall on his legs. He holds you with his hard calloused fingers, like a promise.

Don't let me fall. Don't let me go. Don't leave me.

"Use your words, sweet thing" the trepidation condenses between, "we're grown up now, aren't we? Use your words"

If by words he meant feeling your lips against his, it's enough to have Logan following his impulses, using his strength to embrace your body until they feel like one, the scars on his hands feeling like your own. Your lips move in sync, and it's almost so casual, so learned, so meant to be, that fear appears in Logan, soon forgotten with the symphony of moans that come from your lips.

"Tell me" he pauses, breaking away from the kiss (something you don't like and express in the form of a pout), "what do you want?"

Logan tastes like cigars and whiskey, a combination you hate and the reason you quit your old job at the bar, but on his lips, it's an intoxicating taste.

"I want you, Logan" you whisper, hot breath against his skin, “you”.

He resumes the kiss, an electric shock of hunger and need between you: lips parted, colliding, teeth almost clashing against each other.

His fingers hesitate with a delicacy that belies his rough touch, the tips of his worn fingers lifting the fragile cloth of your skirt first, revealing soaking wet panties he goes crazy just at the sight of. The smell is sugary, sicklingly, so now he's hard and pulling at the clasp of your bra first, exposing your nipples, which he rolls and pinches mercilessly. A gasp escapes you—then another, and another as Logan pushes his thigh between your legs. The friction is delicious, almost painful against your pulsing center.

His hand firm up his position, securing itself onyour bare legs as you digs her nails into him. His labored moans turn into a guttural growl.

“You think I’m not capable?” he mocks, stealing another moan from her, “that I can’t keep up with you, you pretty young thing?”

You deny it, but Logan takes it upon himself to show you that he can take you like he's in heat, the ghost of his old self taking over in his almost animal way of fucking you, hips arched, muscles flexed and tense, his teeth appearing every time he opens his mouth, reminding you of fangs. They dig into your exposed skin, leaving bruises that will take time to disappear from your shoulders and neck, marking what belongs to him.

The hardness of his skin meets your soft when he grabs you by the waist.

"Look at you" it slips from his tongue, ecstatic. He's a goner, saliva dripping from the messy and sloppy kisses he leaves through your collarbone, "so good and so pure. I bet you're innocent, that you haven't seen what I've seen..."

His pupils darken, a strange mix between torment and desire in his gaze. Hungry and violent.

"Will you let me show you how's a real man s'ppossed to treat a woman?"

He feels shame settle in his belly, the hunger to possess her almost virgin body fueling his dark desire of errasing her sweet smile until she's an unintelligible mess of sobs. To show her what she would complain about, so she'll never slettle for less. So you can feel what it's to be taken care of―handled. And then he'll fill you up with his seed, so no other man will take what's his. His sweet little thing. Oh, he's so going to hell for this.

But maybe he likes pain.

"That's it, honey" he plays with the fabric of your wet panties, pulling at the loose threads in the delicate fabric. "Let me show you".

You take it off, and Logan lies back against the bed, spreading his legs and unbuttoning his belt and pants―a clear invitation to repeat the previous position, except this time, his hands are on top of your hips, squeezing the soft skin. He doesn't take his eyes off you, his gaze reserved only on you. If the adrenaline from before pushed you, now the confidence gained motions you to finish the task. It's just the push you need, remembering that this is what it feels like to be with a real man as you throw a leg over his hips, sitting your ass right on top of the bulge marked on his underwear.

“Right… there…” he barely manages to formulate a coherent train of words, the years of lack of help in attending to his needs leading to overstimulation, ��good girl.”

The compliment makes you increase the pace of your hips, his labored breaths a sound so rich and so manly it makes you squirm.

You need it desperately, rubbing your increasingly wet clit against him, riding the fabric. His scruffy beard barely hides the smug smile that graces his lips.

“Like this?” she whispers, and Logan can no longer contain himself, staring at his sweaty, ripped body failing to please her completely. It feels so good it aches, and he can't believe this is how he's ended. But if that means having your pretty face on top of him, covered in his marks, dripping on your joint sweats, well maybe it isn't so bad.

“How can I repay you, honey?” he pleads. He'll try he's best. He just wants to give you a glimpse of the way his whole world has light up ever since he stumbled in that greasy diner.

“You said you were going to show me” it comes out almost as a purr, expectant, “and I’m waiting”.

Logan takes it as his cue, pulling down his underwear until his member is exposed, chuckling darkly when you swallow at the sight.

"Don't tell me you're scared already" he teases, "look how you have me… you can't leave me like this…"

You stifle a scream as you feel every inch of his thick cock enter your sensible walls, trying to fit his member inside of your needy body.

"So tight for me" he stammers, using his hands to keep you in place, on top of him. The only sound in the silence of that place that smells of death is that of their skin colliding―vulgar, the obscenity highlighted by being the only thing that can be heard in the small room.

Even though his stamina has dropped over the years, he thrusts into you relentlessly. Logan fucks you senseless, his balls buried deep in your dripping pussy, a constant rhythm of avid suction with each entry to your walls.

He takes a moment to see you as you take something from the nighstand he doesn't remember putting there.

"Look what I found" you whisper in the middle of your moans. Logan recognizes the shine of metal in front of his eyes, "so Wolverine?"

You say it so easily, like it's not the first time. With acceptance; it scares him.

Do you recognize him? Are you not scared? Why haven't your eyes go from curiosity and kindness to cold and rejection?

He should panic, rip off his dog tags from your hands and pretend he doesn't know who he used to be, but he's so deep inside you and so enraptured, he can only manage to gently take them from between your fingers and put them around your neck, the cold metal against your warm, bare skin creating an electric shock.

"I want to see them on you"

He likes to watch it hang over his face while you're on top, panting heavily as she repeats his name, slurring her words. It dangles with every thrust, the silver glistens in the seeping sun, just like the sweat that adorns her skin.

"Are you that needy of your old man? " he teases, caressing her. He smacks the curve of his ass, “You want more?”

His veiny length makes quick work of your needy hole, more moans escaping your lips.

“Shit,” you curse, wincing at the pain that begins to increase. “Yes, Logan. Just like that. Nobody ever treated me like that, nobody's made me feel like this-”

He moans, pleased with the praise, seeing he isn't as lacking as he thought. Making you feel good is his priority, but he won't lie and say he doesn't want to feel it too.

In an attempt to distract yourself, your eyes try to focus on him: searching his features, memorizing every scar, every wrinkle, every little grey hair.

“You’re perfect, Logan,” you mumble through a moan, the confession hiding more than you want to say and more than he cares to admit.

Before he can process it though, the fire in his stomach signals the arrival of his impending orgasm.

There's something delightful about the way you can barely speak, a mess of moans that sound like his name, eyes half-lidded and lips swollen alongside your messy hair.

He feels almost sick to be consuming something that doesn't and shouldn't belong to him. He doesn't deserve to have such a beautiful, young woman riding him while she clings to him like he's the last thing in this world, him: a worn, old man who can't keep up with her.

His member spasms, and it's got you feeling it all inside your walls, causing him to close his eyes in the process as well.

It's too soon, Logan thinks in shame, but it's been so long and you feels so good, he let's it go:

Thick whips of his cum shoot out of his member, drawing out more than you would've imagined. You don't have much time to think about it, for the orgasm hits you immediately, fingers curling and eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

Logan feels his tip getting wetter, and the extra lubrication is a nice finishing touch.

“God,” he gasps, “what a mess…”

You avoid looking at him, taking one of his hands in yours, kissing the red and violet painted knuckles. If you do, you'll give away what you feel, the same way her memory burns in Logan's chest, more now than ever, as his mouth tastes just like you.

Dependency.

Devotion. Absolute. Sick.

Maybe that was what he felt. This weird feeling. That abyss piercing his chest but never killing him (so much for regenerating...), pressing his heart with a crushing force whenever it threathened to beat again. Logan was content with rather nothing, always a man who didn't ask for much, and since the death of his family―the X-men, less.

"You should go" he mutters in defeat, the shame washing over. Even if he'll miss your warmth, even if he doesn't want you to leave at all. "It's for your own good, y/n. Pretend you don't know me and turn around. Go away" he insists yet gets stuck on his words, "you're not stupid. Then you'll know it's good for you and you'll never speak to me again"

He looks at the ground, cowardly, because he wants your lust filled warm look to be the last memory he remembers. Not whatever look you're giving him now.

So Logan closes his eyes and counts to ten. When he opens them, you'll be gone. It'll be a dream, something too good to be true. Short lived, like every good thing in his life.

"Logan..." you calls his name. So softly it seems like a breath.

You're still here.

"Logan" you call again, more firmly.

"Logan" you don't give up, cupping with one hand his face gently, "look at me".

When he looks up, he comes across a heartbreaking vision. You cry, tears falling like waterfalls down your cheeks. But that's not the most devastating thing, no: it's the look in your eyes, as if you've shared his pain. As if you've had suffered the same things he had suffered; a twisted reflection of him.

"Of course I understand you" you take his hands, and Logan feels that same strange warmth he felt the first time when your hands brushed his with the diner's menu. "I've also lost people… people I loved. Don't you think it hurts me to see the world go on as if nothing happened? Everyone forgets, Logan. But I can't; there's not a day that goes by when I don't think about them"

For a moment, you stop crying, and the hidden internal turmoil he tried so hard to decipher finally makes sense.

"I don't know what you've been through either, but I can promise you, that I understand you more than you think…" it seems like you'll say something else, but you stop and say instead. "Think, Lo: would these people want to see you like this?"

"It's what I deserve" he murmurs barely, his voice constipated but without shedding a single tear.

"It's not what we want, Logan. Please" you sniff, pained "stop being so hard on yourself".

"I'm not who you think I am" he insists. You're still naked on his bed, and he feels dirty for having you like this. For taking you to his home and fucking you raw out of your innocence. "I'm not a good person."

"No, Logan" you seem hurt by that statement. You trace one of his most recent scars with a touch so compassionate, that he feels your fingertips burn, "you are a hero".

Your words were so sweet, so comforting. He wanted to sink into your lap, which smelled like flowers and tasted like safety. A home; a life that had been taken from him. He wanted to believe everything you said―feel who you believed he was. Not this pathetic, tired and apathetic version of himself, but the old version: the version that inspired respect, that despite his tough exterior, had a family he loved. Because he had a heart. Now he feels like he has no soul: no purpose, nothing.

But maybe you are the answer.

Before he can change his mind, you blurt out “can I stay?”

That morning, in that old bed that creaks under his weight, Logan discovers that feeling alive again isn't so bad.

credits: divider @kodaswrld / gif @userparamore

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: This was actually requested on my discord, by my beloved 🌸 anon. I sure had fun writing this, from an ace to another, I hope u enjoy this (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, sexuality talk, coming out (as asexual), gn!reader

Vil watched you pace nervously, his eyes following your every movement. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice he had been speaking to you mere moments ago, his questions and jokes promptly ignored by you.

'What had happened? Had someone upset you? Were you troubled and in need of help?' He thought so many things, his heart beating faster with each negative thought crossing his mind.

Finally, after what seemed like years, you sat down on the edge of the bed, your heart pounding as you stared at your hands. The room was bathed in the soft, fading light of the evening, shadows dancing on the walls as the last rays of the sun slipped through the curtains. Vil could sense the tension in you, the way you seemed to be rehearsing your words, overthinking every syllable - you were like a newbie at acting, trying to conceal your face behind a mask, yet you didn't realize that he could see you behind your mask.

He knew he could ease your worries, he could make everything better with just a few words and snaps of his fingers. You were his most cherished person, and of course, he wanted to take care of you, to see your beauty shine alongside his, to nourish you into a better version of yourself. But first, you needed to open up to him. It pained him to see you so distant, trapped in your own world - fearing.

He could recognize the signs; the way you bit your nails, the shallow breaths, how you looked at him as if you had committed the worst crime possible, which was funny considering that he had done far worser than you ever could. Well, not that you know about all the things he did.

You glanced up at him through your eyelashes, your gaze shy and uncertain. His presence was both a comfort and a source of intimidation, though you weren’t sure why. Vil noticed this, and with a subtle shift in his posture, he softened his expression, hoping you would see him as someone to confide in rather than fear.

"Mein Liebling," Vil spoke gently, breaking the silence, nickname making you shudder visibly. He needed to be the first to reach out, to show you that he was there for you, ready to listen and understand. He took your hand in his, his touch gentle as he guided your chin up so you would meet his eyes. "You've been so quiet and distant today. What’s on your mind?"

It was a simple question but it carried the weight of his concern. You bit your lower lip, leaning into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder as you searched for the right words.

"There’s something I need to tell you," You finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Vil’s gaze softened further, a hint of concern flickering in his eyes. "Of course, darling. You can tell me anything."

It's now or never, You thought. Now or never!

Your fingers twisted nervously in the hem of your shirt as you took a deep breath. "I’m… asexual. It means I don’t experience sexual attraction, or at least not in the way most people do. I, uh, wanted to tell you this since we're... Interested in each other? In love? I don't know how to call it to be honest."

He couldn’t stand the thought that you might have feared coming to him, that you worried about his judgment. Vil tightened his hold on your hands, his touch warm and reassuring, as he let a soft chuckle leave his beautiful lips.

You close your eyes, afraid to face the expression that adorned your his face. Silence filled the room for a moment, the seconds stretched on, each one feeling longer than the last, your heart beating loudly in your chest. But Vil's relief was almost palpable as he realized that nobody harmed you. You were just afraid - afraid of his reaction, which he hated because he could never judge you or other aces for that matter.

"Thank you for sharing this with me," Vil said, his voice gentle and sincere. "I can see how much this means to you, and how scared you are."

A wave of relief washed over you, though a small knot of anxiety still remained. "I was afraid you might not understand or that it would change things between us."

Vil’s lips curved into a soft smile, though he felt a twinge of hurt that you’d ever doubt him. "My feelings for you aren’t based on physical attraction. What matters to me is your heart, your mind, and the incredible person you are. If anything, I admire you even more for your courage in telling me this."

Your eyes filled with tears and you leaned into Vil’s embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart against your cheek sounding as comforting as a lullaby. "Thank you, Vil. You don’t know how much that means to me."

"Thank you, Vil," You whispered, a sense of peace settling over you. "I like you... I like you a lot."

Vil stroked your hair, his touch tender and comforting. "We’ll navigate this together. Your sexuality is a part of who you are, and I love you for all of it. Always remember that."

You looked up at Vil, meeting his gaze. In that moment, you realized how profound the bond you two had that could transcend even words or physicality.

"I like you too," Vil replied, his voice filled with warmth. "Just as you are."

[undeadcannibal]

Gangbang with phillip and the shadows (x Reader obv) THANK U

Summary: Graves & his Shadows gangbang their favorite obedient soldier.

Genre: drabble, PWP, request(s) Characters featured: Phillip Graves, The Shadows, Reader

Warnings: smut

Word count: 633

A/N: I've had this in my inbox for so long... I decided to leave it at this for now just so I can get back into writing and have something posted T-T Hopefully you enjoy, Anon, and thank you for the req! ( Gif credit: xxx )

"Aw, what's the matter?" Graves questioned, his tone light and mocking. "I thought you said you could roll with the big boys? Don't tell me you're tapping out so soon…"

Phillip was currently kneeling in front of you as he watched one of his Shadows use your mouth like a sex toy. Fucking it with little regard to your gagging or the tears sliding down your cheeks. Doing exactly as he was ordered to and fucking you for all you were worth.

Glancing up at the Shadow member using your mouth - whose call sign you'd yet to learn - you realized that you didn't even know what they looked like beneath their gear. Well, aside from their skin color anyway. His pale and flushed member continuously slipping in and out of your mouth. Threatening to slip the tip past the opening of your throat with every deep, forward thrust of his hips. The rest of him was covered from head to toe in black tactical gear. After Graves had ordered him to use you, he'd simply slipped himself out past the opened zipper of his pants before getting to work.

It seemed like the group of Shadows was like Graves' personal pack of trained attack dogs, always at the ready to do whatever they were commanded to. Whatever he barked at them, they did without question. You could imagine that if he'd asked them all to jump for him they would have done so without any question as to how high before going to it.

Just as you nearly became lost in your own thoughts, the soldier using your mouth could be heard grunting. You could feel his member twitching within your mouth as his pace began to falter. Another series of twitches - and a low curse from above - were the only warnings you received before you felt him cumming into your mouth. Causing you to sputter and gag as you found yourself suddenly forced to swallow down his load as he rode out his orgasm. Shallowly thrusting inside the hot, wet confines of it to ensure you took every drop. Finally sighing and pulling out abruptly once he was finished, a thick string of combined fluids connecting your lips to the tip of his softening cock was left behind before your tongue greedily swiped it away.

"Good, good…" Graves praised.

"Yeah," The masked soldier added in. "Can't tell you how much I needed that. Here--" Rummaging around for something hidden inside one of his many pockets, he pulls out a clean rag before crouching down in front of you. Offering the cloth to you with a nod of his head. "Allow me."

Far gentler than how he'd fucked your mouth, the helmeted soldier gently cleaned up your face. Making sure to be careful as he went about clearing your smeared makeup and bits of dribble leftover. Once he was done, he stood up and tucked the cloth back into a pocket. Turning towards his Commander, nodding his head in his direction.

Phillip wanted to roll his eyes at the sight of his Shadow cleaning you up, but didn't voice any complaints. Instead, after he was done and nodding for him to carry on, Phillip glanced over at the rest of the Shadows surrounding you. Each of them had watched the scene with hungry gazes and swelling hard ons but also knew better than to try and take charge. Their Commander had mentioned this was a special occasion - "a gift for good behavior" if you will - and as such, they weren't to do anything he didn't allow for them to. And, should you not want to do anything further, everything was to stop immediately. Still, neither of you had mentioned any of your safe words for the time being, so the show must go on. . .

[diediegamchicothdie]

First thank u @queenoftheundergroundscene for the Varg's cringe love letter

Now

Who is Lullaby Oliveira and why varg hates Brazil???? (Beside he's racist)

Lullaby is a black metal musician and artist from Brazil who highlights the sexual element on black metal (she writes stories about fuck with demons), and she the front girl of underground band Lullaby which had the peak of popularity on 90's.

How did she meet Varg? We don't know, she probably met Euro (he liked to talk with everyone in metal's world because he was a 🦜🦜) first and then she "spoke" with Varg, and I said "spoke" because she never answered, probably she died in cringe, my girl was talking about fuck demons and he introduced to her with "Southron" lol.

So, I just did this post to show this meme

(Instagram: meijemsimplol recuerden que soy una presa política por meta)

Maybe Faust cannot take revenge for his best friend murder, but at least he can get married with a Brazilian baddie!!!!!

And remember:

Southron Lullaby!

This is the manifest of male magic, this is the lidless eye, Count Grishnackh of no colors. Your letter was very interesting.

It was not long nor informative.... But it gave me a feeling of wonder. After reading it I thought of women of secret shadow.

As if beauty was their voice.....Calling for males to follow them into the shadows of the woods where evil lurks,

evil creatures and spirits who no one dare belive in. Among theese creatures....the nymph...the woman! I got this feeling that you

where sutch a "woman" tempting me to follow you. Write "Count I'm in the fell ... follow me ... "Lullaby" I think most males would

blindly follow you....without thinking about where you would take them. Mayby that is your goal? Mayby I should belive you when you

say you are Lucifer's? I recognized myself a lot. I enjoy to capture the love of females...It strengthen me. Also I drink virgin blood

whenever I can. And of course steal the virigin of many young beautiful, innocent, kind, unknowing girls. By playing music I geta lot of

worshipp! People worshipp time, feelings, etc. to me by listening to my music! So my power increase. I know that! Now I can do mostly

what I want to do... I can not cast lightning from my hands or sutch feary stuff. But acts to make people cry without

reason, make girls fall in love, or to sense others powers and feelings. Things like that. I think you have some cunning plans not

only beauty. You will never get my soul. I collect souls myself. I'm not to be collected. I have no love or good feelings.

I exist purely to get power. Power that will give me a place in the dark land where shadows lie. Where I will serve the dark lord.

Spread my lidless eye.

your "tempting" words...

PS I'll gladly have more pics.

Count Grishnackh.

Pd: he said "plz sand bobs and vagene" in Norsk

[bluemoviegirl]

UNDER THE SAME SUN CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 1

joel miller x reader, enemies to lovers

wc: 6.8k

tw: death, blood

summary: we finally get to know a bit more about your past, and another thursday with Joel!! Though you and him just can’t get along, even when you try really hard.

a/n: there'll be more interactions with joel soon guyz, right now they just really despise eachother <3. also, thanks for all the likes!! this chapter took a bit longer cause i'm super duper busy rn but honestly i'm just motivated to get them together. no rushing it though i love a good slow burn xoxo lmk what u thought i loveee getting comments 🩷

happy reading!! <3

It’s been 2 days since the repair job. It had upset you a lot more than you anticipated. That day had triggered the anxiety you thought you had stuffed so far down it would never dare come up again. And that was weird, you were tough. You’ve been tough. So what? A man got killed in front of you? You’d seen it many times before, you’ve been the one holding the gun so many times.

But the way you were dismissed, the way your presence meant nothing to him. How helpless you felt, your emotions had gone back in time. A time you had tried so hard to forget. The way Joel looked so unbothered by it all, he had looked more bothered about you yelling than the actual murder. It made you feel sick. It made you think of Dane.

10 years ago.

You weren’t supposed to be friends, not really. At first, you weren’t even sure you liked Lois. She was loud, brash, and a little too quick to joke in moments where you thought it wasn’t appropriate. But in a world like this, what else were you supposed to do? Sit in silence and wait to die?

It started like this: the first time you met her, it was over a stolen bag of chips. You were hiding out in a small, abandoned building, just trying to keep your head down. You had a decent stash of food, and you were about to enjoy your first real meal in days when you heard movement behind you. Your hand quickly went to your knife, but before you could even make a move, you saw her—Lois—grinning like she’d just hit the jackpot.

A girl your age, long brown hair put in a braid and thick straight eyebrows moving with every word she spoke. The same way your brows always speak before your mouth does.

"Those for me?" she’d asked, eyes twinkling, like she hadn’t just come out of the shadows like a damn ghost.

"Yeah, right," you muttered, not trusting her one bit. "Find your own."

But she was persistent, and after a few back-and-forths, you found yourself sharing what little you had. Lois didn’t have any food to offer, but she did have something else: stories and jokes.

She talked about her life before all of this—what it was like to have a family, a home, a normal life. It was strange to hear someone speak about it so casually, as if the world hadn’t completely changed. For a moment, it felt like the world was just… normal again.

"You know," Lois said, chewing slowly as she looked out the window, "I used to hate rain. Could never get my hair right."

You snorted, a little caught off guard. "Sounds rough."

She laughed, leaning back against the wall. "Yeah, you’re right. Now? I’d give anything for a real storm. Some kind of normal weather. Anything that doesn’t feel like it’s out of a nightmare."

The conversation drifted naturally after that, with you both talking about small things. Things that, at the time, felt impossible to care about, but talking about them somehow made the world feel just a little more bearable. You didn’t become best friends that day. Hell, you didn’t even like her that much. But she wasn’t the worst person to share a tiny room with.

The next few days passed in much the same way. The two of you stuck together by necessity—safety in numbers and all that. Lois was always the first to crack a joke when things got tense, always the first to break the silence with something silly. Even if it was just the smallest thing, she had a way of making you forget how miserable everything else was. She brought out the social butterfly in you.

One morning, as you huddled together near a fire, she offered you some of her dried fruit. "This is better than nothing," she said, tossing a piece toward you with a little smirk.

"Better than a bag of chips," you replied dryly, smiling despite yourself.

"Hey, don’t knock it. It’s survival food. It’s what’s keeping us alive." She leaned back, her eyes scanning the horizon. "We got this."

And maybe you did. You didn’t know how you’d survive this world, but you knew you couldn’t do it alone.

Over time, you began to learn the little things about her. How she would always tap her foot when she was thinking, or how she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear when she was nervous. A habit you had started doing too. The way she fidgeted with her necklace when she was nervous. The way she would keep you on your toes with her sudden, random bursts of energy or the way she could make even the worst situations feel manageable with a laugh.

You’d never admit it out loud, but it became clear to you: You depended on Lois. In a world where it felt like you could lose everything in an instant, Lois was a constant. Someone who made the emptiness of everything else feel just a little less overwhelming. She became your reminder that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t alone in all of this.

And even if you didn’t say it, the bond was there, growing deeper each day. You shared a glance, a small nod of acknowledgment, and in those moments, you knew—no matter what happened, you could make it through as long as you had her by your side.

One day, you were surrounded by infected. There was no way to get out of it alive unless you had help, and it was as if your prayers had been answered. Before you know it, the infected are getting shot down, beheaded, stabbed, name it and they did it.

This group, led by a man named Dane, had come to your rescue. He was a tall, broad man, dark hair cut short. You two owed him your life. He led a group of around 15 people. He seemed like a good man, promising to keep the two of you safe. You and Lois both knew you were capable of keeping yourself alive but it was nice to have a community. It was nice. Until it wasn’t.

It started off well, Dane welcomed you two like you were going to be part of the family. They actually had a base, a protected fort if you will.

“Our help’s gonna cost ya though,” Dane said, leading you both past the rusted gates. The metal groaned as it shut behind you, sealing you in.

Lois didn’t hesitate. “Of course! We’d be more than happy to help you guys out. After all, you saved our lives.” After a moment of waiting for you to say anything, she nudged your side, expecting you to back her up. You nodded stiffly, but something about the way Dane was watching you made your stomach knot.

“Don’t worry, we don’t bite.” His grin –flashing a silver tooth--was meant to be friendly, to ease your discomfort.

 It didn’t.

Lois had taken your hand in hers and squeezed it lightly. Her way of saying you’re okay.

It was somewhat normal the first week. You’d been given chores like cleaning the dining room, washing clothes and cooking. When you first started preparing plates, Dane’s right hand Silas told you to watch the portion control.  Dane and a select few eat better meals than everyone else. The rest get scraps. When you point it out, they joke, “Rank has its privileges.”

Lois had thought it was a bit weird but she brushed it off quickly. She adjusted fast, you couldn’t blame her. You’ve endured so much fear, you know what she’s lost and what you two had been through. Of course she’d jump at the option to be protected. You still thought you two were more than capable of protecting yourself. And you certainly didn’t need Dane to be the one to protect you.

Every night you’d have trouble sleeping but you kept telling yourself, you’re just paranoid. You’ve been with just Lois for so long, these aren’t bad people.

Dane was superior, to the rest of the group. No one ate before he did, no one dared to sit in the chair he sat at, Dane had the final say in everything. Everything you owed, they owed. Someone liked your jacket? It was theirs.

“I get that it’s scary being with all these strangers, but I’d never want to put you in any harm. I truly believe this is a good place. Yeah their rules are a little weird, but we have weird rules too. Like our rule that we can never refuse a snack one of us offers? Even if we’re not hungry? Isn’t that silly too?” Lois had replied softly when you finally built up the courage to talk to her about it.

You dropped it and didn’t speak up about your discomfort anymore. It was obvious, Lois wanted to stay here. Who were you to drag her away from all this? And so far, they had actually been good to the two of you. Nothing crazy but you got shelter and food.

As you tried to adjust after being here for 4 months, you managed to actually make another friend here. His name was Jonnie. He was about 5’5, a bit younger than you and had the cutest snort when he laughed. His curly blonde hair always falling before his blue eyes. The thing you loved about him the most was how he still had that pre-apocalypse softness many people had lost. Including yourself. He brought that out in you. He had this innocence to him, like even in this world, he wouldn’t harm a butterfly.

You and him were on cleaning duty, every night after dinner you’d clean up the dining room together.

“You’ll never believe what I have.” He said, his hands behind his back.

You try to peek but he turns away each time. “What is it? Tell me Jonnie!” You chuckle.

He quickly brings his arms forward, revealing a little cassette player.

Your eyes widen and jaw drops.

“Your mouth’s open.” He snorts.

“No freaking way!!” You grab it from his hands, observing it closely. It was old, had a lot of wear and tear. You always said how much you missed music and now Jonnie had managed to get a cassette player? He was truly an angel.

“I’ve never actually seen these things before the world ended.” You chuckle. “Wait but, do you even have any cassettes? Else this thing is pretty useless..” You look up at Jonnie, who’s already holding in a big wide grin.

He reveals a cassette. “Of course I do. I don’t do half-ass surprises.” He takes the cassette player from your hand and pops it in. “Warning though, it only plays one song.”

“It better be amazing then.” You wait for the music to start playing.

The tune starts playing, you immediately recognizing it. You eye Jonnie as he eyes you, both pairs of eyes twinkling.

“We’re talking away. I don’t know what I’m to say..” The grainy sound of the cassette filling the empty room.

You burst out into laughter as you grab Jonnie’s arms and start dancing. More like just jumping around, but it’s still considered dancing in your book. “Take on meeeee” “Take on me!”

You’re carelessly spinning around, arms wide, cheekbones aching. Jonnie’s clapping along, completely off-beat but grinning so widely it doesn’t even matter.

Your dance party is cut short when you hear the door opening though. Jonnie quickly turns off the music. It was Silas.

“Evening.” He says, his finger tracing a table as he checks it for dust. By some miracle he hadn’t heard the music.

You and Jonnie are stood next to each other, hands behind your back, as if you’re some soldier.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just here for a late night craving.” He brushed past the two of you, grabbed some food and disappeared again.

You two both let out a breathe of relief.

“Thank the gods, I don’t know what would’ve happened if he caught us like that.” Jonnie says softly, obviously a bit shaken. “He creeps me out.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

The following clean ups were the one thing you looked forward to every day. You’d start the evening off with a dance party and would have the song on repeat the entire night.

Jonnie and you spent a lot of time together. You’d seek each other out at dinner and of course clean together. You didn’t expect to find one best friend during an apocalypse, let alone two.

One evening, you and Lois are sat with Dane and his select few around the campfire.

“I think it’s time we celebrate our newcomers. You two have been here for 6 months. Really proven that you’re of use.” Dane said, a beer in his hand. You noticed that when he grinned, you could see a broken yellowed tooth. Yuck.

Lois nodded happily.

“You’re a tough nut to crack though.” Dane’s eyes met yours. You felt shivers down your spine.

“Do you like it here?” He took another sip.

You were quiet for a moment before speaking. “I do.”  You lied.

“Are you dedicated to us? To me?” His gaze darkened and his voice was deeper.

You were taken aback a bit, why is he asking this crap? You furrowed your brows a bit. Lois could read you like a book, she could tell you thought Dane was a total idiot.

“She is. We are.” Lois chimed in, smiling as she interlocked her arm with yours.

He huffed out a dry chuckle, his eyes showing no sign of amusement. “Show me.”

“What?” She asked, as if she didn’t hear right the first time.

“I want her to show me.” Dane said, looking firmly at you and not Lois.

You felt your stomach drop, what the fuck does he mean?

Before you could even think about what it meant, Silas arrived, dragging a guy with him. He threw the guy on the ground in front of you. His hands and ankles tied, head facing the floor but you could recognize those curls anywhere.

Jonnie.

Your eyes widen as you feel your stomach drop. For a moment, the world was in slow motion. Dane’s laugh sounded slowed down as Silas kicks Jonnie, flipping him over as Jonnie squeals in anguish.

Lois is frozen, as are you.

Your eyes scan Jonnie’s battered body. He’s been beaten to hell. His clothes are soaked in blood, his face nearly unrecognizable. His left eye is swollen shut, his entire right side bruised. Blood stains his blonde eyebrows and drips from a split lip.

You tried to get any words out, to stand up for Jonnie. But you freeze when Jonnie’s eyes met yours and a tear rolled over his cheek. That moment of eye contact told you everything, he was terrified.

Dane suddenly pushes a gun in your hand. You look up at Dane, who sits back down. He’s.. He’s actually grinning.

“Kill him.”  Dane nudges his head towards Jonnie. “W-What?” You stammered, a tear rolling over your cheek that you quickly wiped away.

A moment of silence is broken when Dane throws a cassette player in front of you. Jonnie and yours cassette player.

“He doesn’t respect our rules. We share here. Yet, this boy thinks it’s acceptable to keep things to himself. You know our rules right?”

You shakily nod. “Say it.”  Dane folds his arms as he manspreads.

“E-everything you own, we own. We- we share everything.” You quietly said, breathing heavily.

“Speak. Up.” He snapped back, his voice raising. It shook you.

“Everything you own, we-“ You choke up. “-own.” You stammered through the tears you could no longer hold back.

“Good. You know the rules. Calm down, let’s make this atmosphere a little less hostile.” Dane snorts as he leans forward to grab the cassette player. He presses play.

The sound of the song startles you. The song that you and Jonnie used to love and dance to every night, was now being played at Jonnie’s possible last moment.

“Takeee onnn meeee.” Silas murmurs with a wide smile.

Lois furrowed her brows as she was no longer holding onto you. You glanced at her, almost afraid to meet her eyes. She had tears welling up but she attempted to blink them away.

“Good. He didn’t respect that rule. Frankly, I don’t know if he’s ever really been of use here. Don’t even know the boy’s name.” Dane chuckles, his eyes showing nothing but evil. “Now, kill him. I won’t tell you again.”

You tremble as you look down at Jonnie, he’s crying too. You had never felt so weak before, afraid your knees might buckle any moment. You stood up before Jonnie, weakly lifting the gun to him but you immediately lower it. You can’t do this. Jonnie’s your friend. Jonnie’s innocent, he got that cassette player for you. You should be paying for this. And as his eyes meet yours yet again, you feel like you might throw up. He’s pleading. Jonnie’s pleading for his life with that look in his eyes.

“I- please Dane-“ You beg, you plead but Dane shows no sign of you getting out of this.

Suddenly the gun gets taken out of your hand, Lois takes it. You look at her, her eyes don’t show sadness and fear like yours are. Her eyes show determination. Like she’s turned off her personality. She raises the gun to Jonnie’s head.

“Lois!” You yelp, your voice cracking.

But she ignores you and pulls the trigger, blood splattering on your face as your tears try and clear your vision. The only thing visible is the light from the fire reflecting off of Lois’s gold locket hanging around her neck.

After that, there’s a moment of silence. Silence filled with that stupid song still playing.

--

You blink, snapping out of that horrible memory, it’s like you could feel the blood splattering on you again. Your stomach turns. Now you’re sat on your couch, zoned out staring at Joel’s gloves you’d forgotten to return after you stormed off. Even the painted wall felt stupid and the fact that Joel was the one who helped you complete it. Get your act together, you thought. You’re over Dane. Dane isn’t Joel. Joel isn’t Dane. It’s completely different.

And the thing is, you knew it was. You knew it was different. You knew Joel had meant you no harm, not the way Dane had always meant harm. Not the way Dane had harmed Lois- So you convince yourself to at least get dinner at the dining hall today. The dry bread and cans of vegetables weren’t cutting it anymore.

You step outside of your apartment, the cold air breezing through your hair. The feel instantly bringing you shivers. It’s a bit of a walk from your apartment to the dining hall and you happened to run into Selene. Selene was your neighbor, one that had chosen to befriend you in the first two months that you arrived. You’d been cooped up in your place for the first two months but as soon as you were out and about, she came running. She was a tall woman, taller than you were. Her curly auburn hair always put into a bun with pieces sticking out. After those two months you guys talked often. You knew she had a boyfriend, Aaron. He was the opposite of her. She was very loud, very witty and social, while Aaron was quiet, nerdy and very to himself. It was honestly a cute match.

“Hey! Finally I caught you.” Selene said, pacing up her steps to match yours. “Are you headed to the dining hall?” She twirled her hair pieces.

“I am yeah. Haven’t been in a while.”

“Yeah, thought I hadn’t seen you out in a couple days! Everything okay? I get that the change can be tough, I had just the same thing. When my boyfriend and I just arrived here, we didn’t leave our place for two weeks..” She rubbed the back of her neck as she felt a pink tint creeping up, her realizing you didn’t leave your place for two months. “I guess it’s different for everyone.” She chuckled a bit awkwardly.

“I’m doing good, thanks for asking. I just felt like staying in. How are you and Aaron doing?” You smiled reassuringly.

“Oh we’re genuinely fantastic. Okay, don’t tell anyone-“ She leaned in closer to you. “I think we might be expecting..” She smiled widely.

You wanted to be happy for her but it was hard to hide the frown on your face. Who would get pregnant in a world like this? You want to bring more people into this scary world?

She noticed the look on your face and her smile immediately dropped. “I get it.. A baby, in a world like this. It’s crazy. We certainly didn’t plan on it, but I just can’t hide the excitement that I actually get to bring life in a world that takes so much of it.”

to bring life in a world that takes so much of it.

“That’s beautifully said, Selene. I am happy for the two of you, I hope your baby gets your curls.” You smiled, the conflicted feelings fading at the idea of Selene being a mother. You didn’t know her super well or anything, but you could tell she’d be a great mom.

“I sure hope so! Not Aaron’s bald patches.” She snorts and nudges your arm playfully.

You laugh, a genuine laugh.

When you two finally arrive at the dining hall, you were going to sit alone but she urged you to join Aaron and her. With a tray in your hands containing a bowl of stew, a piece of bread and a glass of tea, you sit down, your eyes scanning the room.

 Your stomach drops for a second when you see Joel sit at one of the tables, further down. He’s sitting with a girl, looks to be about 14? Joel is a dad? And he’s laughing? Well, it’s a minimal laugh, a tiny chuckle. But you’d never seen it before.

“Isn’t that Tommy’s brother?” You suddenly hear Selene cutting through your thoughts as she leans closer to you. Your eyes snap back to Selene.

“What’s his name?”

“Joel.” You say before stuffing your mouth with bread, not wanting to talk about him any further. Selene doesn’t seem to get that hint though.

“Joel. He’s cute.” Aaron shoots her a look, raising his brows as she said that. “Oh come on, I’m having your baby,” She mouths the word baby. “I’m not leaving you.” She whispers, laughing. He gets a bit red as his eyes shoot to you, not sure whether you knew.

“Yeah I told her.. As soon as I saw her. I actually couldn’t hold myself back. She practically guessed it.” Selene quickly says even though you didn’t even have the faintest suspicion of her being pregnant. You grin.

“So you and Joel? I’ve seen him around, always brooding.” Selene continues, smirking.

You exhale sharply, already over this conversation. “Absolutely not.”

Selene shoots a look back at Aaron before returning to you. “Why not?”

“’Cause he’s world’s biggest asshole, that’s why.”  

“Damn, what did he do to you?” Aaron says, intrigued.

“Yeah, spill. There’s not nearly enough gossip in this place.” Selene picks at her curls again.

You shoot them both a look. “I’m all for a little gossip but honestly, this man is just an asshole. I do repair jobs with him and let me tell ya, they are not fun.”

“You have to elaborate!! Come on, we’re super duper curious.” Selene nudges you.

You chuckle a bit, Selene reminded you of Lois in some way, they were completely different yet so the same. The way Selene rambled was the way Lois would ramble too.

 “It’s just that, he completely dismisses me. Thinks I’m some weak link that has no understanding of the world outside of these walls.” You start ranting.

“He acts like I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Like I’m some clueless idiot who’s never set foot outside of a QZ or here. He doesn’t listen, doesn’t take me seriously. It’s like he’s already decided exactly who I am, and nothing I do or say changes that. I can tell him one thing, he does not have me figured out. And just—” You realize you’re rambling. “Sorry.” “Oh please, don’t apologize. He sounds like a real jerk.” Selene says, Aaron nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, and I may have been a real jerk to him too. So we’re not on the best of terms.”

Your thoughts go back to the man he killed and the look in his eyes afterwards. Your eyes glance back to Joel across the room. Your stomach drops when you see he was already looking at you. You quickly turn back to the table.

“Oi, you know who I say leaving Julian’s apartment this morning?” Selene grins widely, teeth baring. She’s tapping her hand on the table to get your attention.

“Who?” You can’t hide the smile that’s building on your face as your brows knit together in curiosity.

“Nevermind.. You’ll actually just never believe me.” She fakes looking frustrated as she sighs dramatically before the grin reappears on her face.

“Tell me!” You poke her.

“Okay okay, if you want to know that badly.” She comically rolls her eyes before slapping both hands on the table and leaning forward. “Sasha.” Selene covers her mouth with her hand as she giggles.

Sasha was one of the people who frequently worked at the Workshop, she was always annoyed and honestly, a real bitch. You remember the first time you made your way to the Workshop and asked for a notebook. She had looked you up and down and just scoffed as she walked off. You waited for 5 minutes before realizing she wasn’t going to bring you one. She weirded you out to say the least.

Julian on the other hand, was such a nice guy. He was around 42, fully grey hair and always laughed so loudly it would make anyone else laugh too. So the two of them together, is definitely surprising.

“You’re kidding???” You reply.

“No! I’m not! Aaron, you saw it too right??” She looks at Aaron, who’s just about to take a spoonful of stew. He nods. “Yeah only cause you dragged me out of bed to see that.” He says before eating.

“I actually couldn’t believe my freaking eyes!! How can miss grump fit with mr sunshine?!”

“You have such a way with words, Selene. But I agree. It’s like a perfect book trope.” You grin.

After dinner, you tell Selene and Aaron you’re taking a little stroll. Before you got up you had glanced over to where Joel was sitting but he and the girl had already left. You bring your tray back to the counter and make your way outside.

The stroll is nice. The sound of people chatting, kids playing, the lights on inside the house making you only see shadows of people through the curtains, the smell of campfires burning. You couldn’t believe you were at such a peaceful place. That was, until you were hit with a snowball. Right in the face.

“Jesus-“ Your hands wipe the snow out of your face. “Oh shit! I thought you were someone else!” A girls voice yells as you hear her coming closer.

You blink out the rest of the snow as your vision clears. It’s the girl Joel was sitting with.  You smile at her, feeling a tad awkward after being attacked with snow.

“It’s okay.” You’re about to start walking again before she speaks up.

“You gotta admit, that was a pretty good shot.” She laughs. You smile back at her. “Yeah great shot, thanks.” You chuckle.

 “I feel like I’ve seen you around.” Her eyes scan you.

“That’s possible.” “You’ve done repairs with Joel, yeah?” She asked but it was more of a statement.

“Yeah—I do actually. You’ve seen me with him or Joel tell you about me?” You asked, for some reason curious if the asshole had talked about you.

“Oh I’ve seen you two coming back, I sometimes wait at the gates around the time your job ends.”

Of course he hadn’t spoken about you, not that it mattered. “Right. Your Joel’s kid?”

She laughs and scoffs. “"Hell no. Do I look like I have his grumpy-ass genes?”

“No, you do not.” You chuckle.

“He’s something like that, not my dad though.”

“Ah.” You nod.

“I’m Ellie.” She looks you over.

You introduce yourself to her. “It’s nice to meet you-“ “Ellie? Christ, I was lookin’ for you.” A voice cuts in from behind you. Joel’s. Ellie’s eyes widen a bit.

“Shit, now my sneak attack didn’t fucking work!” She says.

Joel comes closer, before realizing who Ellie is talking to. You look at him as he stands next you. His brows pulled together a bit as he looks back at Ellie, not saying a word to you.

“I hit her in the face with a fucking snowball. My aim is crazy good, I thought you were coming round the corner but it was her-“ Ellie says, proud of her aim and also a bit apologetic about hitting you in the face. “Language.” Joel mutters.

“Right, I should get going. It was nice talking to you Ellie.” You smile shortly and start making way. That’s put to a halt when Joel suddenly grabs your arm. It’s a light grab. You shiver. Your head shoots back to him and he lets go.

“Y’still got my gloves.” He says, his voice gruff with a hint of irritation, his eyes not even meeting yours until he’s done talking.

“Oh right. I’ll get them to you, if you think I’m capable enough for that.”  You say flatly before walking off. Joel sighs sharply.

“Geez, what was that about?” Ellie snorts.

--

The next day you had made it your task to get the gloves back to Joel. Having to see him every Thursday was enough, so you really hadn’t looked forward to this.

It was early in the morning, you hadn’t really slept well. Rolling around in bed all night, thinking about the past never worked for a good night sleep. So as soon as it was a bit more of an appropriate time to drop by someone’s house, you made your way to Joel Miller’s place.

The town was quiet, a couple birds chirping in the distant and that fresh morning breeze blew through your hair. Mornings like these made the world feel at peace. You never thought you’d become a morning person as much as you are a night person, but nights grew more unsettling while the comfort of daylight made mornings provide a sense of safety.

Joel’s porch creaked under your boots as you debated just leaving the gloves by the door. That would be easier. Less talking. Less looking at his permanently scowling face. You were just about to set them down when the door suddenly swung open.

You barely had time to step back before Joel barreled into you, shutting the door behind him with his back to the world. He mutters a curse under his breath as he turns, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of you.

“Jesus Christ-“ He exhales sharply.

Your brows knitted together. “You don’t think to check if anyone might be on your porch?”

“You don’t think maybe I don’t expect anyone at the crack of dawn?” He shoots back as he looks at you, his usual frown on his face.

You’re quiet for a moment, he’s right. You are really early. After a moment you roll your eyes and press the gloves forward. “Returning your gloves.”

Joel glances at them, then back at you, like he’s debating whether this exchange is even worth his time. Finally, he reaches out and takes them. His fingers graze yours for just a second—just enough for your stomach to twist in frustration.

The way he looks at you, like you’re beneath him.

Joel just raises the gloves a bit before walking off the porch. “Yeah, thanks.” He mutters before walking off. Leaving you standing on his porch.

“You’re welcome, asshole.” You quietly mutter.

When it’s time for lunch, you decide to head into the dining hall with Selene. Aaron was on patrol so it was just a simple girls moment for the two of you.

“I can’t believe Joel just walked off like that! Maybe he’s just that into you that he gets all nervous and stuff.” Selene giggles.

“Right, that’s totally it. It’s not the fact I called him out on being a monster cause his loved one died.” You say, silencing Selene completely as she turns red. “Yeah.. Cold.. Maybe he’s not into you.” She quietly replies before taking a bite of her sandwich.

It didn’t take long for you to become close friends with Selene. She was a social butterfly and you like to think you also were one. So you quickly started confiding in each other, gossiping and chatting about anything and everything. The only thing you just kept to yourself was your past. She didn’t talk much about hers either, so you took it as a topic that was off limits for the both of you. You preferred it that way.

“I do regret saying it. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely despise how he behaved at the outpost. But still, I stooped down to his level. I acted cold and that’s just so unlike me.” You picked at the crust of your bread.

It was true, you regretted saying what you said. It took you a moment to understand how you could say such cruel things. You’ve always been really empathic but Joel had triggered memories of Dane. It made you want to be cold, it made you want to hurt him. To hurt Dane. To turn off the overflow of emotions. You did hate Joel though, no matter how much PTSD you had, the way he had handled the situation was awful.

“What’s done is done. Honestly, don’t even give it too much attention. He’s obviously an ass. Maybe it’s good he heard it from someone. He looks like the type of guy that doesn’t get a lot of back talk.” Selene says before taking a bite. “I know I’d be too scared to give him back talk.”

“You’re right. I’m going to go do the repair job Thursday, completely nail it, no pun intended and I’ll show him he can’t bother me!” You whip your hair as you laugh.

“Mhm, atta girl!” Selene chuckles.

--

As Thursday comes around, you’re ready and settled on your horse before he even arrived. You wanted to make sure there would be no possible reason for the two of you to speak unless it was absolutely necessary.

As the snow crunches below the hooves of your horses, sounds of birds chirping and the wind whistling was enough to fill the silence that you’d usually attempt to fill with your small talk. You had glanced over at Joel a couple of times, he’d be unreadable staring straight ahead.

It wasn’t often anymore that someone filled you with so much anger, it’s like every little thing he does ticks you off. The way he taps his heel against his horse every so often, the way he held the reins ever so slightly more to the left cause he knew the horse had a tendency to walk more to the right, and especially the way he always furrowed his brows. Always furrowing those damn brows.

“Quit starin’ at me.” He speaks up.

You blink, not realizing you had zoned out looking at him. “I wouldn’t dare.” You scoff as you roll your eyes.

You look ahead of you. The quiet really making you think. Yeah sure you’ve thought about apologizing to him. You’ve thought about it often, about how much you didn’t want to do it. He should apologize to you. The way he pulled the trigger so easily- the thought of it brings you shivers. That day just keeps replaying in your head, the gut dropping feeling you felt.

Lately everything has been reminding you of Dane and Lois and you blamed Joel for it. Hated him for it. Despised him the way he despised you. It worked out in your favor, making that cold remark to him that day. He obviously felt no need to see or speak to you more than obligated and neither did you.

As the two of you arrive at the outpost, you’re very displeased to see that the wall had caved in on the side. It takes everything in you to not grunt out loud. It’s worse than you thought—wood splintered, nails bent out of shape, snow from last night’s storm piled up against the debris.

“How did that even happen?” You exhale sharply. This meant you’d be on the job even longer.

“Christ if I know.” Joel murmers as he walks inside, he looks just as annoyed as you are.

“We need more wood,” you finally say, hating that you have to acknowledge him at all. “And nails. Probably some new support beams too.” You sounded like you actually knew what you were talking about. You felt a little proud cause of that.

That moment was shot down quickly though.

Joel lets out a humorless chuckle. “Real sharp observation.”

You glare at him. “You got a problem?”

“Nope.” He grabs an axe from the supply crate, inspecting the dull blade. “Just wonderin’ how long you’re gonna waste time statin’ the obvious before actually doin’ somethin’.”

Your blood boils. “Oh, I’m sorry, would you like me to just shut up and blindly follow your lead? ‘Cause we both know how well that worked last time.”

“Worked out just fine.” Joel replies before walking off toward the trees.

You stand there for a moment, fuming. The way he always had to have the last reply, or the better reply. If it was possible, there would be actual fire and steam coming out of you right now.

After an hour of working and not communicating, the only sound between you is the crack of splitting wood, the dull clang of nails being hammered in, and the occasional huff. The air is freezing, your breath visible as you work. Every muscle in your arms aches from chopping, lifting, and hammering.

And yet, somehow, the worst part is still him.

Your mind just keeps going back to last week. To that comment you made about his loved one. You hated him, you did. But it was just in your nature to apologize. It literally wasn’t you.

You decide to speak up, you part your lips to say something but it takes you a few more attempts to actually say something. “Hey um, about what I said last week-“

“Don’t.” Joel cuts you off, his voice sounding flat.

Your brows knit together a bit. “I just wanted to apolo-“

“Don’t.” He states firmly, leaving no room for arguing. You just blink a couple times, very confused why he’s not taking your apology. Did it hurt him that deeply? Surely other people must’ve said similar things right? This just makes you feel worse.

“Joel I am sorry about what I said. Don’t get me wrong, I hate what you did. But I’m still sorry.” You decided to push your apology further, not letting him shut you down like that.

It’s quiet for a moment, like Joel is unsure of how to respond. But when he turns to you, it’s obvious he’s bothered.

“I don’t care about your apology.” He turned to you. “Your words mean nothin’ to me.”  He said, it genuinely seeming as if he didn’t care, but you knew better. His response to it last week told you enough.   “Right, sure seemed that way.” You sigh, annoyed he can’t just take the apology.  

His eyes shoot to yours as you said that, he looks angry again.

“You just always have to have a big mouth on you, don’t you?” His voice raising slightly.

“Maybe you just can’t stand someone finally telling you how it is.” You step forward, if he wants to argue, that’s what he’ll get.

He chuckles dryly, shaking his head as he looks you up and down. “Yeah, that must be it.” His back towards you again, not engaging in this argument.

“Dickhead.” You mumble as you continue. His eyes glance towards you for a second, to make sure if you actually said it. He decides not to respond and just slightly shake his head.

Why can’t he just take the apology? He makes your blood boil. You wish you never took this stupid repair job, you literally volunteered to have fights with Joel Miller. The guy everyone moves out of the way for, the guy people rarely look in the eye. You weren't afraid, if you had something to say, he'll hear it.

[bunni-v1]

so shadow milk legendary costume is coming so can we get more content of pre-corruption smilk 😝😝😭 pretty please and thank you ♥️

🍓Again I’m gonna call him Blueberry Yogurt because typing out pre corruption is annoying as fuck. Anyway, yes you can pookie mwah mwah mwah! These are short, but I still hope u like them :)

-Blueberry Yogurt is veryyyyy different from Shadow Milk. Shadow Milk describes his past self as a “Goody two shoes wet rag with no personality,” and while he’s being dramatic I don’t think he’s far off.

-Blueberry Yogurt is contemplative, gentle, kind, and above all else caring. He loves his subjects and his friends and he aims to share his knowledge with everyone. He’s in all sense of the word harmless. A sweet cookie with nothing but good intentions.

-He’s, essentially, his position as sage. And he doesn’t mind that, but he’s never really considered that he could be anything more. It’s what he was baked for, of course.

-Booooriiingggggg, as Shadow Milk would put it. But Blueberry Yogurt was content with things, it’s only after he realized cookies turn from the truth — mixed with the understanding of the sheer amount of power he held, that his mind changed.

-You we’re part of that realization. That, maybe, he could be more than what he was. That the life he lived wasn’t all it seemed to be. He was never made to fall in love, but he did, whose to say there isn’t more for him out there?

-But before that, he was likely the perfect partner to have. He cares a lot about his partner and their well-being, and he wants to be their total equal, even if they’re weaker than him.

-He spends a lot of his spare time with you. He’s an incredibly busy cookie with too many things to do, but he will always find time to spend on you. You are a high priority in his life, and he makes sure you know that.

-He likes having you around him, even when you aren’t doing the same things. Just you being there brings him peace of mind and makes him feel content.

-You being educated is equally important to him, so he takes the time to have conversations about serious topics. He’s particularly fond of reading with you and discussing the books with a critical eye. He won’t let you be blind to the truth, and if you’re afraid of it, he’ll work with you to ensure you aren’t.

-He’ll take you around the town when he visits, and most cookies know you as “The Sage’s Lover”. He won’t admit it, but that fact makes him proud. He loves to show you off, and he loves the fact that others know you’re together.

-Oh he does this cute thing where he’ll sweep you up in his arms and dance around with you. He’ll press you tightly against his body and swirl around like you’re at a real ball.

-He is so much more open about how much he loves you. He has no reason to hide or fear his affections for you, so he just doesn’t. His love is unabashedly displayed through physical touch as Blueberry Yogurt.

-Soft and gentle kisses pressed upon you dough. He burns into your dough his love for you so that you never forgot how much you are adored.

-He pulls you close and whispers his adoration like a prayer, as if to convince you of his love for you. Like you might forget if he doesn’t remind you so tenderly.

-He treats you to beautiful dates in locations you’ve only dreamed about, each one more heartfelt and romantic than the last. They’re built specifically to wow you, and he’s phenomenal at his job.

-He also gives you gifts all the time, hand made or things he found around the kingdom, it doesn’t matter. They’re all things you’ll make good use of, he makes sure of that.

-His goal is to make you feel considered and thought of. Again, he’s very successful. Everything he does takes you into account, and you become a very important part of his day to day life.

-One thing he does that Shadow Milk keeps is his love for carrying you around. It’s not a strength thing, he isn’t showing off, he just loves carrying you around. He feels like he can really care for you like that, so he does it as much as he can.

-He’s also very protective of you. He doesn’t stop you from engaging difficult topics and finding out truths, but he does stop others from disturbing your peace. It’s the one time he’ll use his magical abilities for selfish reasons, his need to keep you safe and happy winning out his morals for once.

-This is why when he feels himself… slipping… he sends you away as soon as he can. He doesn’t want you to think of him differently, and he’ll even take extra measures to ensure he won’t find you once he’s fully gone. (It’s the most annoying thing about himself, if you ask Shadow Milk. He plans for everything far too well.)

-It does ache and pain him to be so far from you when he does it, but it’s more important to him that you are safe. Even if it means you have to be safe from him.

[churipu]

HAIIII IPIN !!!!!!! can i request gojo, geto, and nanami (separate) having a gf that's really optimistic? just someone who sees the good in everything and anything, and positive at all times! thank SOOOO much !!!!

JJK MEN + OPTIMISTIC GIRLFRIEND

featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento x fem! reader

warning. people being mean to u >:(

note. HAIIII ANONN!!! i love this request bcs sometimes i read books, mangas, watch movies, you name 'em and see a certain character having the most positive mindset and i just go must protecc >:( anyways, thank you anon for requesting just after i opened the request box, istg i love all your ideas so much it makes me feel full <;33

GOJO SATORU. absolutely hates the way you try to see the good in people — specifically people who have hurt your feelings in the past. he just wonders what goes on in your mind to just forgive and forget everyone who has wronged you.

you did. but not him.

"baby, that guy called you names when you were in high school!" gojo whines, laying down on the bed, draping an arm over your torso, "why are you still willing to meet him?"

"satoru, he said he was sorry!" you smiled at him, tracing his features softly — the male grumbled but leaned into your touch, "and plus it's not nice to hold grudges, it's been what? how many years?"

a loud whine escapes his throat as he pulled you close, "it doesn't matter how many years it has been, he still hurt your feelings. and nobody does that to my baby," he said, miffed.

you couldn't help but to chuckle, "well, you are coming along, so i have nothing to worry about."

the male grins, "damn right i am coming, he better sleep with one eye open starting from now," gojo threatens.

gojo just cannot wrap his head around your concept of "forgive-and-forget" because you never hold grudges, you forget everything and still talk to people who've wronged you, and you still have the heart to accept them.

as much as people say "forgive and forget", they end up at least holding the tiniest bit of grudge — or even a bigger grudge, right? but you? you don't. you actually forgive and forget.

well — thankfully, not him. he takes his job to protect you seriously, from any kind of harm, including monsters (people who were mean to you) both in the past, present, and possibly the future.

"baby, can you stop hanging out with that one girl? the one who always wears the purple colored eye-shadow?" he asks you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"hm? why?"

"i don't like the vibe she gives out. it's giving...well...cruella de vil." he murmurs into your neck, nuzzling his nose in content as you went on with your skincare routine.

"satoru," you mumbled, "you can't just judge her by her vibes."

he groans, "but baby, i swear i could just feel it! she's evil," he whispers in your ear.

"satoru."

"okay, fine. just tell me if she does anything to you, i'll give her a piece of my mind (hollow purple)." he mutters out, pouting and upset as you brushed his speculations off.

GETO SUGURU. he loves it and hates it at the same time. geto loves how positive you are against the world — and what more does he need, really? it's you and him against the world at this point, although he feels like he doesn't contribute much to your positive energy (that's what he thinks).

geto thinks of himself as a pretty negative person. and you know. the both of you had a lot of deep talks about everything, including what you both had in mind. and honestly, geto wasn't surprised if he hears you talking about how your life was going smoothly; and his was just a contradiction to what you have.

it's life, people come and go. but geto seemed skeptical of that term, why couldn't people come and stay? he finds it hard to believe that you could be the one leaving him at anytime of the day, and the thought just terrifies the male.

the death of amanai put a hole in his mind that couldn't be closed off, and it fucking scarred him. but you were there for him, you didn't sugar coat words or tell him white lies — you tell him everything, straight to his face, and your choices of words made him feel loved. what else could he ask for?

"'m sorry," he mutters into your shoulder, and his voice comes out a bit muffled.

you brushed his nape gently, "it's alright sugu, you know you don't have to apologize for being sad, right?" you tell him, pressing a kiss onto the side of his head, "it's okay to be a little sad."

sometimes he asks himself if he really deserved you or not. but at the end of the day; you always convince him that he deserved it.

geto hates your optimism sometimes because he watches people trample over you and you brush them off with a smile, it makes him feel angry. he asks himself why you were doing this to yourself? believe me when he tried asking you to try talking back, or putting up a fight.

"angel, you know it makes me kind of sad that you'd let people talk to you that way," he said to you, grazing his finger over your cheek gently.

you shot him a gentle smile, "'ts okay sugu, what good do i get from arguing back to them, really?"

he just pulls you into his embrace, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, saying nothing. god, he just wanted to protect you from the world — why does everyone have to be so fucking mean to you?

"will you be mad if i tell them off for you?" he asks

"depends on your methods, tell me about it."

"threatening them. if it doesn't work, violence." he mutters out briefly.

"sugu, no."

NANAMI KENTO. he doesn't mind it, he finds you endearing, really. a cat getting hurt? he'll accompany you to the vet with it. or a child crying because of a fall? he'll watch you help them without any single thoughts behind.

he just loves how selfless you are. nanami once read a quote, "when given the choice between being right or being kind, choose kind." and every time he sees a selfless act from you — he just kinds of chanted it in his mind, and tell you what, nanami is such a proud boyfriend.

nanami loves how you see the good in everything, a person spilled their food on you? you tell them mistakes happen. a person bumping into you and then blaming you for it? you tell them you're sorry and thought that maybe they just had a really bad day.

but sometimes he couldn't help but to worry over you — someone so positive, bubbly, and optimistic around people who (probably) have disgusting minds. when he's not around to keep an eye on you, he just worries that someone might took advantage of your kindness and throw it out the window.

and he wouldn't be there to stop it from happening.

"ken, i'm going to go out for a hang out. it's fine, i've got my friends with me!" god, the jitters that he gets whenever you mention your friends — he was never really fond of the friends you have now, especially since they were trying hard to earn his attention. he knows they were just using you.

the texts they sent to him behind your back, the shit-talking about you, and everything else. god, he wanted to tell you about it; but he just didn't have the heart to, because he knows it will break your heart.

although nanami told them off quite rudely, defending you — it baffled him to how they still try to hang out with you with no shame after. and he tried telling you about how he doesn't like them, but you tell him it was fine.

"may i come along then?" just the thought of leaving you alone with those people pisses him off to the core, if he can't stop you from being friends with them — he will be with you.

when you agreed, he made it his job to expose them as nicely as he could. and he succeeded, oh the ecstasy he felt when you finally told them you didn't feel like hanging out with them anymore.

(and he ended up showing you the texts).

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !

[deathofacupid]

Your jjk works are so good!!

How about a drabble or fic where instead of satoru dying and leaving reader alone, the reader dies first?

the space behind the school held a strange warmth, a pocket of mellow light when the sun managed to pierce the thick canopy. it was a fleeting heaven, though, those moments of golden reprieve.

most often, the trees held firm, their leaves a dense, whispering curtain against the world. a cracked sidewalk, weary concrete, traced a dull line through the overgrown grass. in the shadows, it felt like a separate realm.

satoru had always found it stifling, too hidden. another place where the world pressed in, another escape denied. you, though, you saw it differently. a perspective he’d once dismissed with a playful roll of his eyes, now he’d call it fresh.

back then, you were just a kid, bright and brimming, the kind of life people instinctively gravitated towards. he’d found a strange echo of himself in you, despite their different upbringings.

you were wiser, somehow, even if only by a sliver. not that you had it all figured out.

“here?” he’d asked, a hint of disdain in his voice. but it wasn’t a real complaint. “again?” he looked down at you, already settled in the tall grass, leaning back.

“yeah. it’s quiet.”

“boring,” he’d countered, poking you lightly before settling beside you.

“quiet,” you’d corrected, a gentle smile playing on your lips.

you were too young to crave silence, to have already felt the weight of the world’s noise. he’d sighed, knowing it was futile. “don’t you hate it here?”

you’d gazed up at the obscured sky. “at school? we’re graduating soon.”

“no. i don’t know. in general, maybe? just… all of this.”

“like, your clan?” you’d guessed, and he’d sighed again.

he was too young to yearn for clear air, to have already inhaled the first tendrils of choking smoke. “maybe,” he’d finally admitted. “yeah, maybe.”

“it’s not too bad. i mean, i wouldn’t know, exactly. i… i kind of get it.” and you did. you didn’t need to walk his path to feel his burden. “you just need to seek out the good things.”

“good things?” he’d scoffed. “did a fortune cookie tell you that?”

you’d shoved him, a playful glint in your eyes belying the mock frown. “shut up,” you’d muttered. then, reaching behind you, you’d plucked something from the grass, a small thing, delicate in your palm. you held it close to his face.

“there’s beauty in everything.” it was a flower, a concrete flower, forced to bloom in shadow, yet stubbornly alive. by will, or by fate, you didn’t know. you were just a kid, after all.

you’d met his eyes, those soft cerulean pools.

“it’ll get better from here,” you’d assured him, your words always so sweet, so inviting. you knew what to say, and when. maybe you needed to hear it too, sometimes. satoru wasn’t like that. words were fleeting, fragile, unspoken because of fear. a memory untold, one could say.

“yeah?” he’d asked, his gaze drifting to your lips.

it was his favorite memory, one among many. now, sitting in that same spot, years later, the details had blurred.

the color of your shirt, pink or blue – he hoped blue, for some foolish reason. he couldn’t even be sure if he’d kissed you, though it felt like he should have. the memory faded, like so many others.

he feared losing you completely. forgetting. he was still that kid, after all. you were too, he thought, even though you were gone.

he’d always craved fresh air, and it had only grown thicker with smoke. you’d always wanted quiet, and if the true noise had been your final torment, he hoped you’d found peace.

he’d trade his happiness for yours, any day. that much hadn’t changed, nor would it ever.

as he reached for a concrete flower, he understood. you were wrong. these flowers bloomed, yes, in their desolate world.

but they were never the same as those kissed by sunlight.

-> a/n: thank u for the request cutie, hope i did it justice !! and im glad u enjoy my works <33

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hello again !!

Because I love your work I'm here again...

So, I was thinking about little dark g!p Donna x fem reader, and like reader live in village her whole life, and one day she went to the church yk, and Donna can't keep her eyes off her, she literally fell in love with her, so Donna was insecure about herself so she just watch her, admire her (stalk) from afar... One day she gets hurt somehow so Donna save her, offer her a new home....

After some time, they became really close, but donna's feelings just became more stronger so she started giving her a small poets to express her love, and when y/n mention she's in love with someone, Donna lose her mind thinking her only true love, love someone else so she's just distance herself.

Y/n notice, so she tried to talk about it with Donna, and then Donna just crush out and say something like "DO YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW WHY? BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU AND I CANT IMAGINE LIFE WITHOUT YOU"

and theeen they kisssss, and Donna ping y/n against a wall yk what I mean💋

SORRY IF THIS IS COMPLICATED, ALSO I HOPE U UNDERSTAND, I AM STILL TRYING TO IMPROVE MY ENGLISH

Also A little late but happy birthday to you !

Yess!!! Hello again, friend :D!!! Thank you for your request and words!! You're so kind!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

A dark angel

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem!! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, angst, dark themes, dark Donna, Donna's POV

Word count: 8,693

Summary: I love her, but she'll never be mine...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!!I love you all!!!

Always the same prayers, the same gestures…

My siblings and I remained silent behind the shadow of the woman who gave us a second chance without asking our permission.

Lords, protectors, monsters… The ways those villagers called us repeated themselves in my head like terrifying whispers. I never liked people, I never liked company.

No matter how hard I tried to force myself to believe that something had changed after Mother Miranda's intervention, I was only fooling myself.

Despite being Lord, gaining terrifying powers, eternal life, and being embraced by the infinite kindness of the black priestess, I never felt different. Before, I was Donna Beneviento, the only surviving daughter of a noble family who had lost her mind; now I was Donna Beneviento, Lord of the village, doll, and nightmare maker.

I knew what people said about me, the fear my presence generated, the doubts in their eyes when they looked at me, when they saw the black veil covering my shame. They said I was a monster, and no matter how many times I looked in the mirror, the scar on my face spoke for itself.

Maybe my sick mind found some pleasure in the change, thinking that Mother Miranda's divine intervention was a good thing, something that would allow me to stop being that sad and lonely woman, but I was wrong.

Perhaps it would have been better if the priestess had let me die that day; at least that way, I could be with my family again, with my little sister. But the Gods had other plans for me. They played on my insecurities, changed my body at will, but, again, I couldn't complain; I had a new family.

Being Lady Beneviento really wasn't so bad. I had everything I wanted, even though I never asked for it. My doll Angie came to life, and I had the power to play with mortals if I got bored.

But something inside my head begged, pleaded for something more, something to end this eternal loneliness.

“Well, my children, before we return to our duties, there was someone who wanted to make an announcement, isn't that right?” Mother Miranda's different tone brought me out of my thoughts.

The sound of footsteps on the altar was the signal I was waiting for to leave that place and return to my quiet, solitary routine, but something stopped me, something prevented my legs from moving.

“Yes. Thank you, Mother Miranda,” a sweet voice penetrated my ears and made me turn my head sharply with curiosity.

“Mm,” the priestess murmured, stepping back a little to allow me to see where that heavenly voice was coming from.

One step, two... Little by little, something rose toward the altar, something that... was, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

A young woman, no more than twenty years old, stood in the middle of the place, allowing me to see, something that kept me standing still, frozen: her face, her hair, a nervous look... Something beautiful, truly beautiful.

Her dress moved with her steps, and hands that seemed tremendously soft played nervously. A beautiful girl, the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, stood inches away from me.

I didn't know every single villager, but... how could I not realize that such incredible beauty existed? My mind began to study her delicate body, the perfume emanating from her hair, her bright, dazzling eyes…

 “Well, you know me, I'm (Y/N),” the young girl began, causing my mind to process her name, dazzling with her gentle words. “I just wanted to announce that I finally have enough materials to start my artisanal tea business,” she explained, the trembling of her hands betraying her shyness.

After the silent approval of the rest of the villagers, the girl took a small tea bag out of her pocket, waving it playfully.

“Um… it took me a long time to get everything I needed, and I hope you all can enjoy it,” she continued, but I was no longer listening.

My eyes studied every curve of her body, her chest. My hands longed to caress that silky mane, my ears longed to hear her voice every day, every hour, every minute, every second.

Everything blurred around me, except for her, an angel in the darkness, beauty standing out among the monsters.

A cold draft made me shake my head slightly and frown. My body felt light and my hands empty. When I woke from that little reverie, I realized the problem.

“Oh, tell me, silly, do you give away free samples?” a familiar voice said, my doll Angie, who, surely taking advantage of my absentmindedness, jumped out of my arms and ran toward the girl, snatching the tea bag she was waving.

I grew nervous, walking quickly toward the puppet, who laughed amusedly while the young woman backed away in fear.

“Look, Donna, look what I have,” Angie said, running towards me again, proudly displaying her trophy.

“Angie, give it back to her,” I whispered, picking up the tea and making a show of giving it back, hiding the trembling in my own hands.

“Oh no, well...” she said, looking directly at me with a fake, nervous, scared smile. “Please keep it, my lady.” Her hands traveled to mine, gently pushing them against my chest.

Her touch frightened me, causing me to push that softness away from my hands with a gasp. Her fingers burned against my skin, teasingly tickling my body. I couldn't bear it with fortitude. I was scared. I was scared to have her so close to me, to feel her skin against mine.

“I'm sorry,” (Y/N) apologized, taking a step back, confused by my attitude, or perhaps scared to know who she had touched.

I glanced at the small bag trembling in my hands, and with no other choice, I nodded imperceptibly, finally stepping down from the altar, unable to avoid giving that beautiful girl one last look.

Despite Angie commenting on every detail of the mass, as always, the walk back to the mansion was silent for me. My doll's voice didn't reach my ears; my senses were too busy remembering, re-forming (Y/N)'s image in my mind.

“Hey, silly Donna! Are you listening to me?” the doll asked as I set her down on the floor, finally reaching the safety of my old mansion. “Donna!”

“Silenzio,” I ordered with a growl, pushing the veil away from my face. “Will you be quiet for a moment?”

“Quiet? You silly Donna...” the doll hissed, making me glance at her briefly in reprimand.

Nothing, I didn't want anything, or anyone to stop my mind from thinking about her, that tea girl.

Sighing, I sank into a dining room chair, the tea bag in my hands. I brought it to my nose, inhaling the sweet scent of wild berries, bringing an involuntary smile to my face. She smelled the same; it was like holding her in my hands.

“You're welcome for the free sample,” Angie mocked, climbing onto the table and observing my strange behavior.

“She was beautiful...” I sighed unwillingly, smiling like a little girl, closing my eye to remember the sparkle in hers, her every gesture.

“Mm? What? What are you talking about?” the doll asked, comically tilting her head and gesturing with her hands. “Uh, Donna, ciao, ciao...”

“Ugh, I mean her,” I whispered, moving the bag in my hands, feeling the touch, imagining that those soft fingers had been in the same place. “T-The tea girl...”

“Oh, that silly village girl,” the puppet laughed sinisterly. “It was fun scaring her a little, wasn't it?”

“No, Angie, you shouldn't scare people,” I stammered, blinking erratically, confused by my reaction. “Not her.”

“Uh-Oh...” Angie murmured, moving a little closer to me. “Donna, Donna... you like her, don't you?”

“No, I...” I said awkwardly in my defense. “W-Well, she's beautiful, don't you think?”

“I don't know. I'm just a doll, and you're a fool,” she scolded, pointing at me with a wooden finger. “How can you like her? You barely knew she existed.”

“I don't know, but... she's so beautiful,” I sighed, resting my head on one hand, staring at the ceiling, like a child in love, my heart beating too fast. “She has a beautiful voice and...”

“Uh, uh, uh,” Angie interrupted, gesturing with her hands. “Stop, Donna, you're rambling, she's just another village girl.”

I shook my head, suffering an attack of rationality in my mind, as if I had woken from a deep sleep.

“Certo,” I finally said, standing up slowly. “You're right, Angie, it's nonsense.”

“Listen to your favorite doll, you know she's always right,” Angie emphasized, giving me a mocking pat on the back. “Maybe you need some company... why don't you call Alcina? You know she always has a maid for you...”

Angie's suggestion was always an easy way to forget, to let off steam, to feel falsely loved for a moment, a feeling that disappeared too soon, but it worked at least to soothe my needs.

But on that occasion, I found it repugnant, undignified. No, there was no maid in the castle as beautiful as the tea girl; none had that sweet voice, that dazzling gaze.

“No, I don't feel like it,” I said, frowning and shaking my head.

“As you wish,” Angie said, stepping down from the table with a gesture of indifference.

“I think I'll make some tea,” I said with a different, animated smile.

I longed to try that infusion, to know what that young woman from the church was capable of, if her products had the same beauty, the same harmony as her.

The sweet and bitter taste of the tea ran down my throat like a love potion, like a heavenly ambrosia that transported me back to her. In the dregs, I could see her smile, her gaze, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing.

My mind was unable to calm down when something disturbed it. My illness made me hear voices, wails, words of love that didn't exist.

I thought maybe those thoughts would disappear with time, just like when a maid pretended to be affectionate with me and I believed I might have a chance.

I'd stopped thinking that way years ago, resigned myself to loving and being loved in the same way, but I knew the feeling, the trembling of my hands when I thought of her, the smile that involuntarily formed on my lips when I remembered her.

I couldn't forget her. I couldn't stop thinking about her, about the taste of her tea. My body began to miss the sweetness of wild berries, pushing me to crave, to desperately crave that warmth running down my throat again.

Of course, I knew what my body wanted, and it wasn't tea. I wasn't interested in that liquid; I was interested in (Y/N), and I couldn't help it. I couldn't stop the sight of her eyes appearing in every doll I made, the struggle of my mind to capture her beauty in my creations so I'd never forget her.

Hardly aware of it, the obsession began to play tricks on me.

Some nights I would let myself go, relaxing with the slow, gentle touch of my hands as I closed my eye or just looked through some old clothing catalog.

The rosy-cheeked models posing there seemed to be moving, their hands replacing mine as they slowly stimulated my penis in the solitude of my bedroom.

But the made-up smiles of those girls distorted as my arousal grew and my breathing quickened. The polished nails of the hands I imagined surrounding my erection dissolved like dust, changing completely.

“Cazzo...” I protested as my mind began to form new images in my head: new hands, a new smile looking down at me, whispering to me, masturbating me.

I even thought I could smell the tea as my panting increased. It was her, the girl from the church, moving her hand up and down my body, maintaining a frantic rhythm that made me squirm. Those eyes looked at me, that sweet voice whispered words of love, of desire…

I wanted to stop, I wanted to free my mind from that impossible image, to return to the fantasies of the girls in the catalog, but I couldn't. I groaned, I protested, but I couldn't shake the shivers that ran down my spine, feeling that the end was irrevocably closer.

Finally, I released myself into my hand, feeling the wet heat of my seed on my skin, dripping through my fingers. I opened my eye, trying to catch my breath, and for a moment, just for a moment, I thought I saw her, (Y/N), in front of me, biting her lip, moaning, writhing.

Shaking my head, I got out of bed, going to the bathroom to wash the remnants of my undignified release from my hands, and the remnants of my thoughts about her from my mind. The cold water cleared my mind, but my gaze in the mirror spoke for itself.

Images of that tea girl beneath my body appeared next to my deformed face, invisible moans echoed off the walls, and my mind began to wonder, to think about what it would be like to make something so beautiful mine.

“How disgusting,” a shrill voice distracted me from my fantasies. Of course, Angie always appeared at the worst possible moment. “Are you finished? I wish I could go to sleep.”

“You can't sleep,” I whispered, clearing my throat and drying my hands, ignoring the doll. “Lasciami, Angie”

“Oh, sorry, Your Majesty,” she continued mockingly, following me back into the bedroom. “What's wrong with you? You've been acting really weird lately. Weirder than usual, I mean.”

“Weird? Me? I don't know why you're saying that,” I protested, plopping down on my desecrated bed, followed closely by my irreverent doll.

“You don't have to say anything. I know everything, remember?” Angie said, sitting uncomfortably next to me, her eyes scrutinizing me, as if I should feel guilty about something. “It's that girl again. You’re obsessed...”

“What do you care?” I asked, offended, annoyed to admit that, once again, she was right.

“I don't care,” she replied, crossing her arms. “But I think you're an idiot.”

“Va bene, lasciami estare,” I hissed, turning off the dim light in the room, trying to ignore Angie's voices, and the ones in my head. “Ugh, Angie...” I protested again when the doll turned the small lamp back on.

“Hey, if you like that girl so much, why don't you do something about it?” she suggested, involuntarily capturing my attention.

“Cosa?” I asked, sitting up in bed and bringing my knees to my chest. “I-I can't do anything.”

“Of course you can. She's still a silly village girl, and you're a lord, remember?” the doll said in a mocking tone, making me sigh thoughtfully.

“Th-That doesn't mean anything,” I murmured, feeling a wave of sadness over me.

“It doesn’t?”

“Of course! Look at me!” I shouted furiously, irrationally, pointing at my deformed face, the face of a monster. “What chance does a freak like me have?! She's beautiful, and I'm... a... a... a...”

“Okay, shut up,” the puppet ordered me.

“Angie, you're trying my patience too hard,” I threatened in a dark tone, something that, of course, didn't bother the doll in the least.

“Fine, whatever you want, keep playing with your little thing and feeling sorry for yourself, you bore me, silly Donna,” Angie sighed, getting out of bed, ready to abandon me.

“Angie...” I sobbed, starting to feel really bad, a feeling of frustration rushing over me without warning. “I'm not okay.”

“What a surprise.”

“I see her everywhere... I... dream about her, I imagine her while...” I began to confess, giving in to my irrational feelings. “I feel her, I smell the scent of her tea every second, I... I can't get her smile out of my head...”

“Then do something,” the doll said indifferently, climbing back into bed.

“N-No... I can't, I don't dare to,” I admitted cowardly, hiding my face between my knees. “I've never...”

“Who said you have to dare?”

“Cosa vuoi dire?” I asked, confused.

“I mean... well, why settle for seeing her in your thoughts when you can do it in reality?” Angie explained, leaving me even more lost.

“You mean... watching her?” I asked again, frowning and looking away. “That's not...”

“Not, what?” the doll insisted, moving closer to me, placing her wooden hands on my shoulders. “That silly girl is still a villager, it's not like she's out of your reach...”

“What are you implying?”

“I'm not implying anything. I'm just telling you what to do,” she said in a supple, haughty tone. “And you know I always give you good advice.”

“So, what do you think I should do?” I asked impatiently, crossing my arms.

“What you do best, dear Donna, lurk in the shadows...”

Angie's advice seemed childish. Lurk in the shadows? Stalk (Y/N)? Watch her? How stupid.

At least that's what I thought for a few insignificant minutes. Then, I began to see some clarity in her words. I could try with all my might, but that girl would never feel anything for me, I knew that well. No one had ever felt anything for me, at least not something they weren't forced to pretend.

The idea of ​​romance, of having someone to love, someone who would love me, sounded great, but as time passed, I began to forget it, to feel like it wasn't meant for me, that I didn't have the right to experience true love. My deformity, my different body, kept me from being a normal woman, someone a girl like (Y/N) would want to meet.

I knew it from the moment I was entranced by her gaze, by her smile. I could only imagine her, admire her from afar, never in any other way. Angie could be many things, but above all, she was a part of me, a part of my consciousness that I separated from my body, thanks to the Gods.

The idea seemed dark, but the more I thought about it, the more light illuminated my mind. Yes, the only thing I could do was not to forget her, strive to get to know her without her knowing, observe her movements in the darkness, hidden.

I wanted to know everything about her. I wanted to know what she liked, the things she hated and loved, how she walked, how she spoke, how she dressed, how she lived. The obsession didn't improve—quite the opposite—but I know it was only my fault.

Every day I walked towards the village, hiding from the gaze of others, from their shining eyes. I felt safe in the shadows.

I learned a lot from you, you know?

I knew that (Y/N) liked to sew, I knew what books she read, what face she had when she fell asleep by the warmth of a small fireplace. The smell of that delicious tea accompanied me in my observations, and my fantasies turned into increasingly vivid dreams.

I knew her routine, the small shop where she sold her tea, the exact steps from her house to her work. I began to lose my mind. Sheets of old paper began to fill with notes about (Y/N). I didn't want to forget every discovery, every new aspect I saw in her.

I thought I knew her, but it was only an illusion. My hidden body deeply longed to be discovered, longed for those beautiful eyes to look at me, but it never happened. I didn't want to be seen, I didn't want her to see the figure peering through her window, the ghost of the woman who haunted her without her knowing.

My conscience would attack me from time to time, making me feel guilty for chasing her, for harassing her. But then she would appear, dispelling any doubts with her kind smile, her polite, somewhat shy voice.

I had to feel bad, but I was unable to.

The nights were even worse. I stopped visiting the castle maids and their false, cold warmth, starting to enjoy my memories, my imagination. Thinking of her, of her hands touching me, of her body embracing mine, making her mine, was enough to calm my impulses.

But the more I did it, the worse I felt. I felt like those hands would never surround me, that the warmth of her naked body would never come close to mine, that her lips would never kiss me.

I had to acknowledge reality, but I couldn't. The crises changed. I no longer lamented my pathetic existence, but my inability to approach that girl without trembling, to do anything other than stalk her or lurk in the shadows.

It was unbearable, but it was an addiction I couldn't break.

Spying, studying, observing, thinking, imagining, touching myself, ejaculating, sleeping, and repeating, became a painful and inevitable routine that stretched on for too long.

“Che bella sei...” I murmured, watching your smile as (Y/N) attended the villagers, the gestures she made.

“Uhg,” Angie protested, turning away with a tired sigh. “Donna, I'm starting to get tired of this.”

“Your smile is beautiful...” I sighed again, dazzled by her beauty, blushing as I hid behind some trees. “Ti amo, (Y/N)...”

“Okay, okay, enough,” the doll interrupted, standing in front of my field of vision, obscuring her image. “Donna, basta.”

“Get out of the way, I can't see her,” I protested, gently slapping the doll and positioning myself on that distant bench.

“What? Are you hard already? Are you going to take it out and jerk it off out here? ” Angie said in a nasty tone, forcing me to tear my gaze away from (Y/N)'s beauty and growl at my friend.

“Ma che volgare, Angie,” I snapped, disgusted by her hurtful insinuations. “What's that about?”

“Donna, I'm sick of coming here day after day to stare at that silly girl and watch you lose your mind,” she said, climbing onto my lap with an authoritarian pose. “You're pathetic.”

“What? Take that back,” I threatened, pushing her off my body, starting to get dangerously nervous. “Take it back...” I growled darkly, standing up.

“Never,” the doll sighed, unfazed by my attitude. “Stupida”

“Non...” I hissed, my breathing becoming dangerously faster. No, I couldn't argue with the doll so close to her; she'd see us, everyone would notice. “Cavolo, Angie, this was your idea.”

“Yes, I thought you'd calm down a bit,” she replied, gesturing indifferently. “But I can see you haven't. You're losing your mind, much more than usual.”

“So what do you want me to do? I... I love her...” I said in a softer, submissive tone, sinking back onto the bench. “I can't do anything but admire her from afar, dream that one day she could be mine and...”

“Wake up, silly Donna,” the puppet interrupted, climbing into my lap and smacking me on the head, making me groan again. “Stop fooling around and act at once.”

“I've already told you, Angie, there's no way she'll notice someone like me, much less love me,” I sighed, on the verge of sobbing, feeling the fabric of my black veil dampen with my tears.

“That's nonsense,” the doll replied, shaking her head. “You're a lord, remember? You don't need her to love you.”

“I don't like what you're implying,” I whispered, confused, but knowing what her intentions were.

“Fine, but you have no choice,” she said, comically crossing her arms. “You can have whatever you want, Donna, whoever you want. She's just a simple villager; you shouldn't care about her feelings. You want it? Then take it.”

“Do you want me to kidnap her?” I asked, thoughtfully. “Th-That's not romantic at all. I don't think...”

“Do you love her?”

“Yes, of course I do,” I replied, nodding, nerves running through my body. “I love her more than anything.”

“Then take her, make her yours, she can't say no. You're her owner,” the doll finished, getting off my lap and pointing at the store. “You'd like it, wouldn't you? For her to kiss you, to caress you, to feel her close to you...”

I just nodded, imagining it all in my mind, what it would be like, how it could be so real and no longer be a fantasy. A sinister smile spread across my face.

“Yes, I would like it.”

“Then do it, silly Donna, take that stupid girl with you. She won't be able to refuse. You could make her suck you off whenever you want and...”

“Angie, please, don't... don't make it look dirty. I-I want to be romantic, to love and take care of her... She couldn't refuse me, could she? I could make her truly love me...” I rambled, slowly getting up, playing with my hands, which, for some reason, were starting to sweat.

“Oh, yes, of course, dear Donna, she'd be yours and only yours. You just have to... well, take her. Easy peasy, right?”

“Yes...” I sighed, my gaze fixed on the snow, drowning out the images of (Y/N)'s screams as I kidnapped her against her will. Those screams would turn into moans, I was sure of it. “But... but how do we do it?”

“Follow me. I have a plan,” Angie said, walking closer to the store, too close.

“Angie, what...?” I asked as I followed her, not realizing I'd already entered the artisan shop, and had found something beautiful, her gaze upon mine.

“My lady,” (Y/N) said, giving a small bow without taking her gaze from mine. “I was waiting for you to come.”

“D-davvero?” I stammered unconsciously. I think she heard me, because she frowned, confused.

“I'm sorry, but... I don't understand you,” she said kindly, without removing that smile from her face. “Was that Italian? Gods, I had no idea you...”

I knew that smile.

“Yes, yes, yes, whatever you say, silly girl,” Angie interrupted, comically climbing up onto the counter. “You were waiting for us, huh?”

“Um, well… I remember that I offered you some of my tea, and I was worried.”

“You were worried,” I sighed, my voice imperceptible to her until I cleared my throat. “Perché?”

“Um... well,” (Y/N) stammered, visibly nervous. “The truth is, I was worried that my tea wouldn't be to your liking, Lady Beneviento.”

“The tea was fine, or so Donna says,” Angie said, amused, fussing with the things on the counter.

“I'm glad to hear that, my... lady,” the girl murmured, still nervous, with that tremble in her voice that betrayed a certain fear of my presence.

You'll be more afraid, little bird.

“Oh, um... are you interested in buying something? Don't worry, I have special prices for distinguished customers.” Her merchant's tone pierced my ears, detecting a hint of falseness, of discomfort.

“Yes, yes... tell me, silly, where do you get your herbs?” the puppet interrupted again, discreetly gesturing for me to let her speak.

“Well, the wild plants here offer a lot of possibilities, but I'm afraid there isn't much variety,” (Y/N) explained, while Angie studied the tea bags.

“I see... that's because you haven't ventured into the western forest, huh?” Angie continued, while I marveled at her gaze.

“Mm, no, well... that's your territory, isn't it, Lady Beneviento?” she asked me in a doubtful tone, to which I nodded elegantly. “I wouldn't want to trespass on your property, my lady.”

“Nonsense,” Angie said, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. “Donna wouldn't mind you gathering some herbs to continue making that delicious tea, would you, Donna?”

“Mm,” I murmured, beginning to understand the doll's plan. She was certainly clever, too clever.

“Oh, well... I appreciate it because I was starting to have stock issues and... if... if that's okay with you... I'll stop by there, I'll try not to disturb you.”

“Va bene,” I said formally, hiding the trembling in my hands as I turned around. “I'll take four bags.”

“Perfect... thank you, thank you very much, my lady.”

It certainly seemed like a good plan. She'd just have to come to me, to my territory. Once she crossed the bridge, it would be the end, and my beginning. I resisted doing it, but I had to admit Angie had a great idea.

I just had to wait for that little bird to fall into my net.

“There she is,” I said, excited to see (Y/N) appear out of the snow after a long few days of waiting.

“Yeah, I see,” the doll said as we hid behind an old wall. “Okay, we just have to wait until she's distracted and... boom! You'd have that pussy just for you.”

“Angie...” I hissed at that vulgarity, and the sinister laugh that accompanied it. “I told you to not to talk about her like that. She'd be my girlfriend, not a whore, do you understand?”

“Whatever," the doll whispered. “Look, she turned around... she looks scared.”

“I'm not surprised,” I sighed, a pang of sadness in my chest.

Could she really love me? Could I force her to do it? I was desperate; I couldn't do anything else. She'd be mine, no matter what.

(Y/N) walked slowly, cautiously, probably afraid of the rumors circulating about me in the village, about how dangerous it was to enter my territory and the high probability of never returning.

After a sigh, seeing that there was no danger, the young woman began to examine the bushes there, looking for herbs for her tea, wild plants that I knew didn't exist, at least not in the way she thought, or Angie made her think.

“Now,” I growled, emerging from my hiding place and clenching my fists as Angie followed close behind, laughing sinisterly. “You're mine now...”

I walked slowly toward the girl, who seemed quite distracted, vulnerable. My mouth watered, imagining all the things we would do, how much we would love each other, everything I had planned for my girlfriend, my wife, my eternal lover.

But suddenly, (Y/N) gasped in fear.

I stopped, thinking maybe I'd given myself away, that she'd heard me.

No, don't run away, little one, don't run away from me...

I blinked in relief to see her gaze directed not at where I was standing, but in the opposite direction. Her legs moved, starting to back away, and a growl began to echo through the snowy forest.

One of Moreau's hideous creatures emerged from the trees, one ironically named Vârcolac, the local term for "werewolf." It was a deformed, rabid dog that was slowly approaching the young woman.

All my senses were on alert, but when I started to run, it was too late.

A scream of pain was the next thing I heard. That ferocious beast had pounced on (Y/N), its teeth sinking into the skin of her arm, causing her beautiful blood to spill into the snow.

I rushed forward as fast as I could, rabid, snarling with rage. No, that beast couldn't take her away from me; she was mine.

“Basta!” I shrieked furiously, standing in front of the creature, which released the arm of the young woman, who was crying in terror. “Go away!”

I knew the influence we had on those creatures; I expected obedience, and I got it. But no, it wasn't enough. That thing had hurt my beloved, and it would have to pay. The rabid dog began to whimper, to cry in suffering as I focused on making it pay.

“Gods...” (Y/N) whispered, pulling away, dragging herself through the snow with her injured arm. “Gods...”

Hearing her addictive voice, I stopped, leaving the Vârcolac alone, which fled with agonized wails, never to return.

“(Y/N)… are you okay?” I asked, crouching down next to the young woman. “Cavolo, what was that thing doing here?” As I asked, I looked at Angie, who just shrugged.

“M-My arm,” (Y/N) stammered, holding her wound. “It hurts,” she complained, writhing in pain.

“Relax, you're safe now,” I whispered, unable to believe what had just happened, soothing (Y/N)'s pain with my powers, making her gaze relax before she fainted. “You're with me now…”

Those were my last words before picking her up and taking her home, to her new home.

Healing her was simple, but watching her sleep… it was complicated. My body was asking me to do things I'm ashamed of, but luckily, I was stronger than my impulses. I treated and washed her wound while whispering words of love to her, knowing she couldn't hear me.

“Well...” Angie said, climbing into the bed. “Everything went much better than I expected.”

“Better? Cazzo... Angie, tell me you have nothing to do with the Vârcolac,” I growled nervously.

“Of course I haven’t. That slimy fish should have better control over his creatures, but hey, it came in handy,” the doll said, looking at the unconscious (Y/N).

“Handy? She... she's hurt... I was about to lose her and...” I said nervously, gently stroking the girl's silky hair, intoxicated by her tea scent.

“Don't be silly, this was the best thing that could have happened to you, Donna. You didn't have to kidnap her, you saved her life. Of course, it's much better,” the doll explained, making me realize that, once again, she was right.

“Mm... Mm...” a murmur escaped the young woman's lips, causing my head to snap towards her. “Where... Where am I?”

“You're safe, in my house,” I explained softly, continuing to stroke her hair.

(Y/N) winced slightly before rubbing her eyes with her good arm, positioning herself, noticing who was beside her.

“Lady Beneviento,” she whispered weakly, her eyes wide open, watching me.

Then it hit me. My hand went to my face, and I didn't notice the black cloth that used to cover it, but my skin. I'd forgotten about the veil, I was so afraid of losing you…

“Mannaggia…” I lamented, getting up to escape this situation. I wasn't ready to show her my hideous face, not yet.

“W-Wait…” the girl interrupted, reaching for my wrist, preventing me from moving with her burning touch. “Wait, please.”

“You shouldn't have seen me, (Y/N),” I whispered, struggling not to fall into her sweet grasp.

“No, I... it's fine, my lady... I like to put a face to my guardian angel,” she commented with a warm smile, making me look back at her slowly, to see the sincerity of her misguided words.

“I'm not an angel,” I murmured, removing her tempting hand from me, walking away from the bed.

“Well...” she said, painfully sitting down on the bed, still staring at me, scrutinizing my deformed features. “You look like an angel to me.”

“You're wrong,” I said frowning, but turning completely around.

(Y/N) shrugged with a sleepy smile, lying back down.

“Thank you,” she whispered, falling asleep again, forcing my weak body to move closer to her. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“I... don't,” I murmured, sitting next to her and looking at the bandage on her arm. “Y-You should rest.”

“Mm,” she gestured again. “I’m a little dizzy… I don’t think I can go home now…”

“No,” I said tersely, shaking my head. “You have to stay here, with me… erm… you must stay, and you can do it… as long as you want…”

“Mm… yes, you’re an angel…”

Her voice was sleepy due to my powers, but it was still divine, heavenly. She was no longer talking to herself or a client; she was talking to me; those words were directed at me. Dizzy or not, she was speaking to me; she had looked at me; there was no horror on her face, no fear.

All the horrible thoughts I had for her disappeared in an instant when my reckless hand grasped hers as her breathing relaxed and deepened. She was mine now, she was with me, but for some reason, I didn’t feel strong, I didn’t feel like holding her back by force.

I wanted to love her, take care of her, see her smile, and hear her tell me those beautiful things. I couldn't do it, I could never hurt (Y/N), and that was killing me.

When her arm healed, she would be gone forever, I would lose her, but I couldn't help thinking it was the right thing to do, that she would be much happier without me, that her smile would disappear if I forced her to love me.

At least she was mine in that moment. Maybe I could try, maybe...

Little by little, (Y/N) regained consciousness, flushing the drug emanating from my body and bringing her out of her disorientation. She didn't change much; she simply seemed much more serene, fearful, but... for some reason, she didn't seem to be truly afraid of me; rather, she seemed to want to be polite and grateful.

I cared for her, treated her with affection, with sweet words while I healed her wound, while she hissed in pain at my actions. But I was always rewarded with a beautiful smile, a sincere, grateful smile.

I couldn't fully reflect the days that passed, but they were more than one, more than two. Soon after arriving at my house, (Y/N) was able to roam freely, curious about everything there, asking questions, and being fascinated by each of my explanations.

“Mm, it's delicious,” she commented one evening while we were having dinner together, in silence, a calm, peaceful silence, a silence that allowed me to contemplate her, to see how she looked at me, how she acted without me being hidden, watching.

“Grazie,” I said gratefully, taking a sip from my glass of wine.

“This pasta has been my favorite food since I was a child,” (Y/N) said, wiping herself with a napkin.

“I know,” I said mistakenly, instantly regretting it for knowing her better than she did.

“Wow, you lords know everything, don't you?” she said amusedly, tasting the wine, complaining about her wound. “Ouch...”

“It's our job,” I said confidently, taking advantage of my status to correct my stupid mistakes.

“I see,” she said, winking at me, a gesture I didn't quite interpret, making me blink in confusion. “I thought I could do something for you.”

“Something for me?” I asked curiously, a darkness appearing in my gaze. Yes... I could think of many things she could do for me.

“Mm,” the girl nodded, carefully placing her glass on the table. “Well, you feed me, you take care of me... sometimes I don't think I want to go home,” she joked, making my face freeze.

“Then don't do it,” I said in an indifferent tone that made her raise her eyebrows before she laughed softly, shaking her head.

“Well, who knows...” she murmured distractedly after that awkward moment, which she dismissed as a joke. It wasn't. “But I would like to help you, at least... well, I know how to sew, and... I could help you with your dolls.”

“Mm, you need to perfect your technique,” I commented, slipping up again, making her look suspicious.

“Oh, really?” (Y/N) said amused, but with a slightly different tone, as if something didn't add up. “Well, I guess if you're patient enough with me, you could teach me your... perfect technique.”

“You can't sew with that arm,” I said, trying to break out of my own trap.

"It won't be forever, will it?" she joked again, raising her wine glass.

I smiled mysteriously, beginning to enter into a strange game I didn't understand, but I liked. I was crazy about her, hopelessly in love with her. That hadn't changed, it had only gotten worse.

“Here's to that, cin cin...”

As her wound healed, my hopes began to fade.

(Y/N) wasn't a simple villager; she was a young woman with a talent for fabrics, a lover of poetry, a kind, cheerful girl...

I never thought we could have so many things in common, that someone like me could get so close to someone like her without forcing her to do so. Of course, I had saved her life, and she was grateful for it. (Y/N) only meant to be kind and grateful, but it burned me. Her smile devoured my insides, made my heart race, excited me, drove me crazy.

Laughter, movies, hours of silent reading... somehow, we had established a bond I hadn't expected. I had managed to approach her without trembling and she didn't tremble when I did. She was perfect, so perfect…

Love consumed me, making me feel pain, sadness, frustration. She was just a girl grateful for what I did, nothing more. Soon she would be gone, abandoning me, and I would only be able to live on memories, on that false illusion of a shared life.

Luckily, I watched her long enough to get to know her, to know what she liked, what to do to please her. It wasn't too difficult for me to do so; she loved poetry, and I loved reading it to her, dedicating a few verses to her in small notes, or while doing her best to help me with my dolls.

I was happy, or I thought was. I would never be happy until she was mine, until she told me if she had feelings for me.

It drove me crazy, I suffered crises at night when she wasn't watching, desperately calling out her name, smashing mirrors and furniture, begging the Gods for a chance for happiness, with her.

“Anche così è stato breve il nostro lungo viaggio.

Il mio dura tuttora, né più mi occorrono

le coincidenze, le prenotazioni,

le trappole, gli scorni di chi crede

che la realtà sia quella che si vede...”

I recited one night, by the light of the fireplace, with her fascinated gaze fixed on mine. My voice trembled, but at the same time it was firm and sure. It didn't matter how much I was suffering for her love. I would suffer eternally to see those eyes look at me like that, to hear the words my lips spoke...

“Wow, it's beautiful,” (Y/N) commented, whispering so as not to disturb the peace of the moment. “What does it mean?”

“It talks about the loss of a great love,” I explained, closing the book, nervous to have her dress so close to mine, so close to me... “Eugenio Montale remembered his deceased wife with these verses, the things they experienced...”

“Oh, that's very sad,” she sighed, lowering her gaze. “Still, it sounds beautiful. Lost love is love, after all.”

“I-I guess so,” I said, relaxing a little, trying not to look at her intently whenever she spoke, to avoid seeming desperate, in love...

“Love is beautiful in all its forms, don't you think so?” she said in a casual tone, placing her legs on the sofa in a distracted posture.

“I don't know,” I answered sincerely.

“Have you never been in love? Oh, um... I shouldn't have asked that, I...” the girl said, once again recalling that cautious tone from the first days, the first weeks.

I didn't respond. I just looked away.

“What about you, silly girl? Have you fallen in love?” Angie interrupted, comically scaring us, breaking the tension of that moment, of that awkward question.

“Angie...” I hissed menacingly, while (Y/N) giggled with a hand on her chest. “Lasciala.”

“It's okay,” the tea girl said, shaking her head. “Actually… I'm in love right now, really bad, indeed.”

Her words stabbed into my chest like two sharp daggers. My whole world, my fantasies, and hopes crumbled at once. I should have known, I should have imagined that someone as perfect as (Y/N) would have someone waiting for her, someone who loved her, and who wasn't me.

Suppressing my rage, my desire to hurt her for causing me pain, I abruptly stood up from the couch, causing the girl to do the same, worried.

“Donna...” she said calmly. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine! Cazzo...” I screamed, removing her soft hands from my shoulders, which were trying to turn me towards her. “Take your hands off me, you stupid girl,” I growled, panting angrily and running towards the elevator, towards a night of inconsolable crying.

“Donna, wait.”

I didn't hear her; I could only hear her confession, her declaration of love for someone else. I'd already lost my mind, but that finished me off, brutally. Still, killing her, taking revenge out of spite, didn't seem like a good idea.

Imagining the terror in her eyes, her last breath, didn't console me, quite the opposite. Anyway, I already knew it was impossible; she would never love me, and I'd have to accept that, or I'd end up hurting her.

I decided it was best to distance myself, to cool down enough so I wouldn't feel the warmth of her presence, to count the days until her wounds healed completely and she disappeared from my life forever, before I did instead.

But I was never good at acting; my new attitude couldn't go unnoticed by her.

“Donna,” (Y/N) said, bursting into my workshop, distracting me with her unattainable charms. “I-I think I'm completely healed now.”

“Good,” I whispered, concentrating on the porcelain, not in her beauty. “Then you can get out of my house.”

“What? Um... I thought... I thought you liked being with me, I was thinking about...” she said, confused, getting dangerously close.

“No! Don't think, stupid! If you're healed, go away, you're just annoying me,” I exclaimed spitefully, breaking the doll with my hands, with the force of my pain.

“Why are you treating me like this? You're not the same, Donna, I thought that...” she said, hurt, pretending to care about my attitude.

I couldn't take it anymore.

“Why? Are you asking why?” I said, standing up from the chair with a dark look, clenching my fists tightly on either side of my hips. “Because I love you, stupida! I've been in love with you longer than you can imagine! You break my heart, you tell me there's someone you love... and you ask why I treat you like this? I don't know, (Y/N), maybe it's because I can't stand you being so close to me if I can't have you, maybe it's because I can't live without you!”

“I know,” she commented, unfazed by my madness, leaving me voiceless, colorless. “I always knew... you were there, somehow.”

“Cosa?” I asked nervously, a tear of love running down my cheek.

“I saw you far away, in the snow, watching me every day...” she explained, replacing my anger with shame. “At first I was scared, but... somehow... I knew you didn't want to hurt me.”

“You don't know anything, stupida,” I hissed, moving a little closer.

“I know what I feel,” she said firm, confident, without taking her eyes off mine. “Donna, I'm in love with you.”

“What? No, no, no, you're not going to cheat on me,” I said, pointing at her accusingly. “You told me the other night, you said that… that you were in love…”

“Yes, with you,” (Y/N) confessed, leaving me paralyzed. “I know it sounds hasty and… well, maybe you find it hard to believe, but somehow, that day, in the church… I… I don't know, I started wondering what you were really like, what was under that black, withdrawn figure.”

“Um…”

“And then… you came into my store with that silly excuse about tea… I never thought you'd dare to approach me, I'm just a simple villager,” she said amusedly, taking a step towards me.

“You're not a simple villager,” I said confused, my hands trembling when hers intentionally brushed against them.

“And you're not a monster…” she whispered, too close to my lips. “You saved my life, remember?”

“N-No... I... I...” I stammered as her arms wrapped around my waist and her gaze deepened on mine, mesmerizing me. “You don't understand... I wanted... I wanted to hurt you...”

“You'll hurt me, Donna. You'll hurt me if you don't kiss me,” (Y/N) whispered in my ear, pulling away to let my body respond, to let me thrust desperately against her, my lips crashing onto hers.

It wasn't a tender or loving kiss; there was fury, rage, shame, and passion in my movements, in the way my mouth devoured hers. I felt her smile as she reciprocated, the wetness of her tongue brushing against mine with the same force that my hands gripped her waist, pulling her against my body.

“Ti amo..." I whispered panting, catching the breath she'd stolen from me with her kisses, declaring my love for her, confessing a love that had been killing me for too long. “Ti amo...”

(Y/N) smiled seductively, not responding with words, but with another passionate kiss, quieter, but just as effusive.

My hands went wild, wanting to touch every part of her body I'd long considered forbidden. Her dress was violated by my caresses as my legs pushed her beauty against one of the workshop walls.

“I've wanted you to be mine for so long...” I growled in her ear as my fingers grazed her breasts beneath the fabric, my nails gripping her flesh, penetrating it.

“Prove it, Donna,” she challenged me... her voice was a wet challenge as my teeth sank into her neck.

Her bare skin appeared before me like a divine gift, allowing me to lie on it, caress it, kiss it, moisten it for me, so that I could devour it. But I was too anxious to enjoy the moment. I loved her, wanted to truly love her, to sink into her body, to make her mine before she came to her senses and realized what I was doing.

I took a deep breath, looking into her shining eyes and listening to her labored breathing, and without thinking, I ripped her underwear from under her dress with a victorious, dangerous, avid gasp.

“Donna,” she protested in amusement, letting her back hit the wall as I released my quivering erection from its prison. “Calm down.”

“No... you can't ask me to calm down,” I whispered in a commanding voice as I lifted her, leaning her against the wall as I entered her carelessly, feeling that warm, wet embrace around me.

“Shit... you're big, Donna,” (Y/N) protested with a moan, closing her eyes and letting herself go, letting my cock slide through her tight walls, forcing its way into her body, into her wetness...

“You’re... mine...” I responded clumsily, thrusting into her slowly but firmly, slamming her back against the wall as I held her. She clung to my body as best she could.

“Oh, yes, yes,” she moaned as she danced up and down to the rhythm of my thrusts and my indiscreet grunts. I barely had to force myself to move her; she was light as a feather, and comfortable, warm. “Oh, Donna...”

“You're not surprised,” I said with a sinister smile, moaning with pleasure as I felt her body intensely squeezing my erection, a wet, lascivious sound adorning the moment.

“I'd... heard something about it...” she moaned, too focused on the pleasure to be rational. I didn't give that unpleasant comment much thought; I had work to do.

Laughing, reveling in our first time, in truly having her physically, in feeling myself inside her perfect body, I continued my thrusts while my lips fought to capture hers.

“Donna, Donnaah!” she cried out, ecstatic as my release flooded her, causing her body to react in kind, holding me close, milking me with lust so my seed would stay inside her.

The pleasure I felt was incomparable to any other; her body was so perfect... so wet... so much better than a stupid, used maid. I already knew I loved her, but I didn't know I could feel that way: lost, madly in love, capable of forsaking the very Gods if she asked me to.

“I hope I didn't hurt you,” I said when I caught my breath, pulling out and gathering her in my arms as I brushed her hair away from her face. “I've been wanting to do this for so long... wanting to love you...”

“I know, Donna... you were always my guardian angel.”

[bleuside97]

Redemption and Regression

paring: babydaddy!jungkook x exgirlfriend!reader

summary: even after five years there is not escaping of jeon jungkook.

warnings: reader has a four year old child, reader gets kidnapped by jjk, manhandling, harsh words, profanities, a bit of angst,

genre: yandere jungkook

"Hi mommy." A little voice called through the phone call. You hold the phone close to your ear. Relief filled your senses by hearing your son's voice. Looking both ways before crossing the empty street. "Hello mommy's baby." You replied to your son, U-Jin Y/L/N, smiling ear to ear. "How are you liking it at Grandma's house?" You asked the small boy. "I love it here, Grandma has lots of toys for me to play with and she cooked samgyupsal for dinner." You couldn't see him but you can tell that joy evident in his voice. In the background of the phone call the sound of toys clashing together. Clearly, submerged in his fun toys he stopped taking.

Your four year old baby, frequently stays at his grandparents house on nights you have to work overtime. This whole week has been filled with late shifts at the office. You are employed as a journalist, a struggling one if that, you are writing your newest article that could be your breakthrough. A female voice cuts in, "Y/n." "Hello Mom, thank you for taking U-Jin in again, I've been so busy at the office." Walking home from work alone in the dark of the night. Thankfully you're almost at home. Just a few more blocks from it. You walk through the patches of yellow lights given by the street lights, within every kilometer. A gust of wind flies past you and bites your nose and cheeks turning a bright rose color. Your cling onto your light jacket a little tighter with your free hand. It was cold but your pursed nonetheless pulling the hood over your head. Pushing your hands deeper into your jacket's pocket for warmth. You continue to walk to your destination.

"I can't neglect my responsibility as a Grandmother," She dismisses your gratitude, always selfless. You're grateful to have her in your life, the only person you trust right now. You smile gratefully, admitting, "I can't do this alone." Tears well up, clouding your vision. "I'm a struggling single mom, trying to keep my job." A compassionate sigh emanates from the other end of the phone. "Don't give up, Y/n. You've come so far from those so many years ago." Her encouraging words bring a smile to your face. The smile fades as you recall your life before five years ago. Swiftly changing the subject, you attempt to forget about it. "I'll pick up U-Jin tomorrow, it's my day off. See you then, please kiss U-Jin goodnight for me."

You conclude the call quick to tuck it in your purse. A shadow of a figure in the distance. A rather tall figure, with long brunette hair blowing in the wind. He wore a loose-fitting hoodie and baggy jeans. He walks, his gaze locked on the sidewalk ahead, his face obscured by a cap that renders him faceless in the dim light. In the midst of the crowded sidewalk, your shoulders accidentally collide. You're quick to offer an apology, but as you do, the faceless figure slowly turns to face you, and in that instant, you imprint a name on his featureless visage. A surge of instinctive fear jolts through your mind, urging your body into action. Your legs propel you into motion before rational thought can catch up.

In the darkness behind you, an iron grip suddenly clamps onto your arms, imprisoning them against your trembling frame. You instinctively struggle, desperately attempting to wriggle free from his unyielding hold, but he remains an immovable force. As fear courses through your veins, you open your mouth to scream, only to be violently yanked backward, stealing the very breath from your lungs and reducing your scream to a feeble gasp.

His fingers constrict around your waist and throat, the world narrowing to the thunderous pounding of your heart in your ears and the veins throbbing visibly in your throat. Panic surges within you, tears welling up in your eyes. Amidst the chaotic moment, your vision is reduced to a blur of blinding car headlights, the whizzing of the street, and a fraction of a car door frame as you're forcibly thrust into the passenger-side seat. Desperation fuels your efforts as you claw your nails against his arm, a frantic struggle to break free.

Having cornered you within the confines of the vehicle, your assailant steps back, allowing you a fleeting glimpse. Through your disheveled hair, the darkness, and the tears clouding your vision, you discern little more than the silhouette of a man. His head abruptly swivels in your direction, his hand lunging forward, and a noxious cloth slaps onto your face.

In your frantic struggle with all your might, you toss your head back, a desperate bid to evade him, your instincts screaming about the consequences of failure. You were forcibly shoved into the car, an unsettling sense of déjà vu washed over you, and you could have sworn that your faceless assailant wore a hauntingly familiar, triumphant grin. A haunting warning chills your soul, "I warned you, y/n, from the moment you left me, I told you I will always find you." The world dissolves into darkness as he steps back, sealing your fate with a resounding slam of the car door. Rendering you unconscious.

(Transition)

A cold shiver danced down your spine, and the chill of damp concrete beneath your scent a jolt of discomfort through her frail frame. Panic began to claw at the edges of your consciousness as her memory reluctantly unveiled the grim truth: she was trapped, imprisoned by the very person she had once called her own.

As her senses gradually sharpened, she became aware of the stale, musty air, tinged with the scent of old wood and mildew. The sound of distant water dripping echoed ominously, punctuating the silence that enveloped her. Her hands, trembling as she explored her immediate surroundings, brushed against rough walls and the coarse surface of a cot, revealing the stark minimalism of her prison. With every fleeting moment, the dreadful awareness of her predicament grew more poignant. Memories of their tumultuous history resurfaced, casting shadows on her thoughts, and the realization dawned that she was now at the mercy of her former captor. Tears welled up in her eyes as she grappled with the agonizing helplessness of her situation.

Amidst the dimly lit basement's gloom, your eyes gradually adjusted to the obscurity, revealing the harsh reality of her situation. As her disoriented senses sharpened, she could make out a silhouette lurking in the shadows. Her heart raced, and a tremor coursed through her frail form as the figure gradually materialized before her.

a/n: it's been a minute bro ik i said that i was going to post like five days a week naaa that was a lie. it's not that easy im currently in school and im tired and doing work all the time. im exhausted but ima try to post once a week. i will try. anyways, im still on my yandere shit and i have way more coming up. i really this one and i think it's a cool story. please let me know your feedback please this is only the first part of the story and i don't want this to flop 😭 please don't make it flop I beg! i really worked hard on it it took me days to do!! there's gonna be two more chapters and smut would be included in the next chapter so...