#i want you but ill always ask for consent first

[amanonthecorner]

This one goes out to all the buckaroos whose trot has been SIGNIFICANTLY IMPROVED by the art of @drchucktingle

[obsessivevoidkitten]

How to Hunt Your Alpha

Yandere Gender Neutral Omega Reader x Male Alpha

CW: Extremely dubious consent, stalking, mention of voyeurism, knotting, pheromones, scenting, scent marking, biting, marking, claiming bites, a/b/o dynamics, omegaverse, breeding cycles/heat, rut scratching during sex, feral sex, general yandere behavior, knotting, breeding, baby trapping, manipulative reader Word Count: 1.2k (This is a commission for @kittycatkandies who was very patient with me. I hope you all like it, this is the first fic I have written with a yandere reader.)

From the moment you saw Clark and caught a whiff of his scent, he had snagged your undivided attention. Now, you weren't the type of omega to just start swooning and let yourself be taken in by any nice-smelling, tall slab of alpha.

No, that's how you had been treated poorly in the past. There were many alphas who just wanted to slick their knots in any omega and didn't care about a relationship or even making sure the omega was satisfied during sex.

But when you passed an alpha on the street, caught his scent, glanced into those kind brown eyes of his, you suspected he was better than the fuck boys, douche weasels, and assorted sad soggy pieces of old toast you had encounters with in the past.

Still... it was just a suspicion... you had to get to know him a good bit better. He may not even be single, though he did not smell as if he was paired up and lacked any fresh marks on his neck. The best way to see if he was right for you was, in your warped mind, to follow him and see how he interacted with others. He definitely passed the test.

You had discreetly followed him back to his place so that following him in the future would be possible. After that you tailed him stealthily several different times. The first time you did so you learned that he volunteered at the nursing home keeping old folks company, another time you caught him donating to and doing volunteer work at the local soup kitchen, and the final proof you saw that he was wonderful and perfect in all things was when you learned that he worked at an animal shelter that specifically took care of elderly animals and those with health conditions.

On occasion you had even caught him wanking through his window. He was perfect in that regard too. The sight of that cock made you drool.

Throughout your many “information gathering” sessions you had ascertained that his name was Clark and he was, as he had initially seemed, single.

But you had a plan to change that. You’d have him begging to mark you up and slick his knot inside you.

You began volunteering at the animal shelter he worked at, making sure to ask him lots of questions, work diligently, and show off your compassionate, caring, stereotypical omega side that alphas always seemed to appreciate.

It worked! Well... kinda... not as well as you had hoped. The two of you had become friends to some extent, but he hadn’t put any moves on you in a romantic or sexual way. You’d just have to step up your game.

You knew he was the type of man to take mating and biting marks seriously. You just had to get him to that point, get him in your heavily scented apartment. And so, you formulated yet another scheme.

The next time you were in heat you endured it as best you could. Full force and with no suppressants. You rubbed your scent over your entire apartment. Every room was scent bombed with your pheromones. Especially the bedroom, of course. Then you wore a scent diffusing scarf and clothing. Then you went on to the animal shelter as usual.

The scarf and special clothing would hide your scent well enough. They were designed so that those who couldn’t or wouldn’t take suppressants could still interact with society without their smell causing chaos during ruts or heats. They did nothing for the other symptoms of a heat though. You’d still appear spaced out, flushed, and feverish. Which was just perfect.

Clark noticed and at the end of his shift he thought you were ill. He wanted to take you to the doctor, you refused though what he asked next was exactly what you had wanted.

“Please at least let me drive you home, you’re in no condition to drive!”

“Well… o-okay… if you insist…”

And so he drove you home and even walked you to the door. When you opened it he was hit by the scent of needy fertile omega and clearly distracted. He didn’t protest as you nudged him in.

Then you stripped off your scarf and clothing and he was hit point blank by fresh pheromones too.

“I… I um… wh-what… um I need some air.”

He tried to collect his wits and step past you but you blocked the exit.

“Just take a deep breath, I think the air is pretty good in here don’t you?”

He muttered something incoherently as you rubbed up against him and nuzzled into his muscular chest.

“Ah y-you’re in heat… Not clear headed… I sh-”

You took his hand and led him into the bedroom.

“Yeah, I’m in heat and you should help me with it~”

This was it. All your efforts were about to pay off. Your heart was pumping faster than it ever had before and your veins felt as if electricity was flowing through them.

Clark’s brain was short circuiting, though you could tell by his aroused scent and the bulge in his pants that he was going to do exactly as you wanted him to. He let you take him to the bed and push him onto it. You removed his clothing for him and stared at his full beauty, finally revealed to you. Well... finally revealed close and in-person.

He grabbed your sides and you wiggled your slick leaking hole right on to his large throbbing cock. He hardly needed to thrust, not with how eagerly you were bouncing up and down on his cock. He came in you quickly. The smell in the air and the feeling of your tight slicked up hole squeezing his length as you bobbed up and down on it were too much for him.

But he had plenty more loads to fill you with. And you weren’t going to stop until you were sure you were impregnated.

His knot swelled inside of you, locking the two of you together and reducing the fervency with which you could slam down on his dick. But the stretch felt amazing and the friction of it rubbing up against all of the most sensitive spots inside of you made you scream his name as you orgasmed again and again over the course of the next few hours.

The two of you were entwined in a near-feral frenzy of pure fucking. Scratching, biting, marking each other up in every place reachable by tooth and nail. Pheromone laden fluid leaked from your neck where he had put his claim mark and from his neck where you had put yours. Both of your eyes were glazed over, consciousness pretty much lost, bodies running on instinct alone.

You awoke the next morning with a smile of contentment on your face. You had successfully seduced the man of your dreams into a rut during your heat and had most certainly gotten him to fuck you pregnant. He was snoozing peacefully underneath you with his arms hugging you protectively. You wrapped your arms around him and let yourself fall back asleep on top of him, relaxed with the knowledge that he would never leave his well marked, pregnant omega.

[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

i have to get this out of my head oops

dick grayson x reader

⚠️: micro-cheating, dick grayson is obsessed, you respect yourself and LEAVE his ass, sexual content (M masturbation), dick looks at pics/vids of you without your consent like a little heart broken loser— blah blah blah

(you can imagine any version of dick you want)

maybe you should have put your foot down sooner, in fact, you absolutely should have.

you feel pathetic— like you wasted time on him. you shouldn’t worry when he’s out late vigilanteing— but you do. what if she’s there? what if she’s the one he thinks about when it’s late and he’s tired and alone?

you’ve seen slivers of conversation. nights where he can’t be bothered even to speak to you, all followed by you discreetly peeking over his shoulder, just to see her name. you always plan on confronting him, telling him you’re not stupid and you know what he’s doing but then— then you go to bed, and he wraps you up tight in his arms, kisses your shoulders, and you forget.

you should have known better— you should have learned from past mistakes but you chose to believe it isn’t what it is, what you know is true.

you love him, but he doesn’t love you back.

in theory, he does love you— but not the way you love him. not the way your love makes you drop everything, scurrying to place yourself accessible for every single fucking thing he needs, not in the way you turn off your phone— itching to hear him talk, not in the way you cut off anyone that could be a threat to your blooming relationship.

he doesn’t love you the way you love him and you’re okay with that— at least for a little bit. you can take the pain to the face. you allow yourself to feel what you feel— and then you swallow it.

you’ve wished for him for years, loved him for years. and you convince yourself you can live like this.

——

you can recall the exact day, the exact moment that makes you question everything about your relationship.

dick is standing in the kitchen of his apartment, dressed well and smelling like every dream you’ve ever had of him. he’d invited you over after work, saying sweet lines about missing you and wishing to see you.

you peer at him with curious eyes, asking instantly, “i thought you were off today— where have you been?” the breath is sucked from your lungs instantly, “well— kori needed my help with something today so i drove over.”

you pause in the doorway, heart beating loud enough you can’t hear anything but it. you’re hesitant in your next words, “oh— uhm.. you didn’t tell me that you were going to kori’s today..” your voice trails, you’re unsure what to say next— unsure if you should bring up any worries, unsure if you should voice how absolutely uncomfortable the idea of them being alone makes you.

he’s seeing her in the daytime now. using his precious days off to assist her with things she needs. it’s more than just texting— more than just work.

you don’t have the chance to speak your concerns, dick’s million-watt smile pulling you out of any worries you had. he takes your coat and he asks you how your day was— and you forget.

——

the next time— the final time comes on a day that you feel worse for wear.

you feel like you got hit by a fucking trash truck— every bone in your body somehow hurts and you’re tired beyond reason.

you feel bad, like you’re ruining the plans you and dick had made for the day, despite him hushing you softly, promising that he doesn’t mind— promising that he’ll take care of you.

you give in— and you rest on the couch for just a second. a second, that’s all you need, you swear to yourself.

you don’t wake up for hours.

when the first stream of dull light hits your eyes, you’re dazed— confused. the apartment is silent. there’s no tinkering, no TV show playing obnoxiously in the background— there’s no sign of dick anywhere.

your stomach seems to drop impossibly lower— you feel ill, iller than before, and there’s something gnawing— chewing at the back of your brain until you’re sure your right— dick isn’t here because he went to kori’s.

you feel delusional for a second— it can’t be true. he wouldn’t do that to you, would he?— but with each breath, each thought running through your groggy mind, you convince yourself you’re fucking right.

you check your phone with a hesitance you haven’t felt ever in your life.

it seems like your suspicions were correct. a text message from dick is all you see, a text message from over an hour ago— “be back soon— running some errands.”

errands your fucking ass.

——

despite how worn down you feel, utterly heartbroken and impossibly sicker than you felt before your nap— you spend the time packing up things you’ve left in dick’s apartment. clothes, your toothbrush, shampoo and conditioner— miscellaneous nicknacks that you’d brought over with your time spent here, with him.

you’d feel impossibly stupid if he comes home and it was nothing— but you know it isn’t. call it intuition or maybe just fucking crazy but you know it.

it takes just about another hour for him to show face, in fact, you hear him before you see him— soft footsteps on the well of the stairs, the jingle of his keys. you have them memorized and for a moment, just a moment before you tear the future down in front of you, you allow yourself to be excited.

——

he looks happy when he sees you, wide awake and sitting on the couch. he speaks your name in the tone that makes your heart flutter, but he’s stopped short at the site of the bags by your feet.

when you ask this time, there’s no room for argument, “where were you?” there’s something in your tone that makes him avoid eye contact— he’s guilty, and he fucking knows it.

“kori called while you were sleeping— she needed help moving a couch into her new apartment.”

again— the breath gets stolen from your lungs, “and that was your errand?” you don’t even think of mentioning she’s freakishly fucking strong and could put the goddamn couch on her back if she really needed to— it’s irrelevant.

he puts his keys down on the table he keeps next to the door, the noise sending a sharp twinge of irritation up your spine. he nods, mouth instantly opening for whatever bullshit apology you know he will spew.

you cut him off sharply, “i won’t do this.” you take in a deep breath, standing to your full height, “you don’t get to treat me like this.”

your tone is calm, sure— but dick can see it in your eyes, you’re rightfully fucking furious.

“you’re leaving me?” there’s something quiet, something pathetic in his tone when he asks. it throws a wrench in your plan— goddamn him, goddamn dick fucking grayson and his perfect fucking eyes.

you’d spent the hour waiting for him imagining that you’d be tough as nails— sure of yourself. you’d tell him straight that you were leaving and leave it at that.

you don’t feel like that anymore.

“i don’t know.” it’s honest. you mean it when you say it and you can see the sag of relief in his shoulders when you speak it to him.

he shifts, like he wants to touch you, but he seems to restrain himself, “i have to go, bruce called. he needs help in Gotham. please,” he does it again, speaks your name in the tone that makes you melt, makes you think that you could put up with him entertaining kori for the rest of your lives, “please don’t leave— we can talk about this more when i get back.”

you agree to his request.

but— in the end, you lie.

you lug every fucking memory of yourself down the stairs of his apartment— and then, when you make it safely to your home— you block his fucking phone number too.

——

it takes until the morning for dick to realize you’re gone. really gone.

maybe it’s because he’s been out all night— helping bruce, Batman, restrain every criminal that had escaped from Arkham— or maybe it’s because he lingered in Gotham too long, worried about what he’d find when he returned home.

something about you— the look in your eye when you’d confronted him.

you weren’t staying and he fucking knew it— but he left anyways, too scared to watch you walk away, to watch you abandon him.

when he comes home, he hopes to see you cuddled up in his bed, sleeping soundly the way you normally would be on your days off and he’s gone for the night— but instead he finds nothing.

not even an echo of you.

everything you’d ever graced his apartment with is gone.

the air feels heavy with regret, his regret.

dick decides he need to go to bed— he needs sleep.

he will worry about winning you back when he’s back to his normal wits.

——

you’ve changed your phone number.

dick can’t reach out to you even if he’d tried.

it’s been a week— almost two and dick feels like he might crumble. he needs to see you. he needs to speak to you.

he’s so used to you, you and your bright smile— you and the way you show up and liven up any situation. he craves you, the way you rub his shoulders— the way you ease him into relaxing.

but you’re gone and he knows he shouldn’t do it. he knows you’d hate him for even thinking about it— but he can’t fucking help it.

he opens the hidden folder on his phone— the folder full of pictures and videos of you.

full of picture and videos your bare pussy— your whole bare body. videos of you keening for him to touch you, pictures you’ve sent from the safety of your apartment, just for him.

he could just look at the non-lewd pictures of you, of the two of you, but he’s sure he has them memorized by now. he needs something else, something new.

and as he’s looking at them— he can’t help himself. he misses you so much. the way your hair smells, how your body feels against his— the way you taste.

his hands pull at his boxers— just one time, he thinks— and then he touches himself for the first time since you’ve been gone, since you left him.

he touches himself to the sight of you, spitting on his cock when he needs to— to slick himself up, to imagine it’s you, your soft insides he’s sinking into with each desperate thrust of his hips.

he cums with a noise he’s never heard himself make before— calling your name with a sound so pathetic it makes his ribcage hurt.

he deletes the pictures and videos of you, the whole album, the moment he realizes what he’s done.

and then, once he’s settled back into his bed, clean and alone— he cries.

he fucking cries— he misses you so much.

what will he do without the memory of you? he just deleted the last little grip of his sanity.

——

despite his sureness that deleting your photos was the right choice, he feels more empty without them.

the very next night he spends hours— hours, surfing porn sites. he needs someone that resembles you— the way your body looks, the color of your hair, the way you sound.

it takes longer than he anticipated, the sun rising quicker than he thought it would but he finally finds one satisfying enough that he gets the urge to touch himself.

dick grayson thought he was above videos of internet girls. he thought he’d never need to resort back to porn like a teenager but that’s obviously changed now— none of the women willing to fuck him in real life are you.

after an empty orgasm, he pays to save the video.

he doesn’t know it yet, but he’ll watch that video until he’s fucking memorized it.

maybe he’s a pathetic mess but hopefully, wherever you are, you’re happy.

[ihrthoney]

for us

pairings: namgyu x preg!reader

warnings: angst & fluff :p

an: i started my first big girl job but im motivated so ill try to post more :)! i haven’t posted in a minute and i hate pregnancy tropes but i make the exception for squid games lol. i will make a part two!

nam-gyu was many things, an addict, a partier, an idiot and a sweetheart. the sweetest ever, actually.

unfortunately for you you worked at club pentagon, which is how you met the physical embodiment of an acid trip.

who he was when he was sober was something you cherished and kept close to your heart. it wasn’t hard to weave your way into his rotten lungs, but soon enough you became his air, his new high.

after learning you never did substances, he switched positions at the club and asked you to get a safer job, not wanting you to inevitably cave to the horrible things that he tries.

you scold him of course, reprimand him and argue about hating how he acted when under the influence. for a while he managed to stop, wanting something serious and stable.

but then he met thanos, he came home obnoxiously intoxicated. nam-gyu was so star struck that he saw a famous rapper that he didn’t understand why you locked him out of the room, until he woke up the next morning with a headache he only got when he was on drugs.

apologies spewed out of his mouth, wishing for a second chance. his wish was granted, he found another outlet for “extra money” and promised you both a fresh start.

until the extra money vanished off the face of the earth and now he was in incredible debt.

the few months of bliss now gone, thoughts of continuing such an unstable relationship this far into life didn’t seem like a good idea. the arguments were bad, mostly on your end as you couldn’t get him to stop begging and spilling empty promises,

“i’ll make the money back and i’ll work harder to make more for you, please baby i’m so sorry.” the sight of him on his knees and holding your legs would’ve been kind of sweet if this wasn’t the millionth time he’s promised to be better.

to his disappointment, you walked out of his life that night, asking him to only find you when he grew up.

he was determined to make the money back, nam-gyu had no hesitation when calling the number on the card.

-

seeing thanos’ face on the big screen in the unfamiliar room brought a bitter taste in your mouth. you felt bad, seeing as he had the talent but like your ex he succumbed to the high instead.

your ex. that fucking moron. that piece of shit doesn’t even know you’re carrying his damn kid.

a week after you walked out of his life, you guys met up one time to exchange clothes and what not but one thing lead to another and here you were in hospital debt. finding a stable job was hard, especially when you worked as a bartender most of your adult life.

the stress was eating you alive, renting the nice place you had was not cheap and the nice landlord could only be nice for so long because you had to start paying more.

the past few months have been rough and you really wish you had the support of your ex even if he wasn’t the greatest, he was yours and that’s all that really mattered.

standing in line to sign the consent forms made you nauseous, afraid of what’s to come. as you’re walking back to your bed, you get stopped by a hand on your shoulder,

“yn?”

you feel your heartbeat quicken as you turn around and look at your ex boyfriend.

“why are you here?” his hand is still on your shoulder, slightly moving up and down your arm.

he always had a thing for keeping a hand on you, he said it grounded him.

“the same reason everyone is, debt.”

the expression on his face makes your chest ache, he looks so concerned that it makes you a wee bit mad, “what debt are you in? you’ve always been financially responsible!”

he was right, out of you two you made the smarter choices. it dawned on you that you had yet to tell him you’re pregnant with his kid.

“yn? what happened? did someone scam you? i know some people that could find them.” his tone deepening as he becomes more serious, “no! it’s not like that. it’s complicated..”

the worry in your voice makes his eyes fill with worry, “baby, you can tell me.” the name makes you push away from him but the distance is immediately gone as he closes it, pulling your hands into his own. you can’t look him in the eye, scared he’s going to be mad at you.

you’re going to keep it no matter what but the thought of him hating you and your kid makes your heart crack.

the swirled hormones make everything seem so much more intense, tears start to fill your eyes which makes his widen. his hands, ever so warm, hold your face and tilt it so you’re looking at him.

“what’s wrong, i’m here ba-“

“i’m pregnant, nam-gyu.” he pulls his hands off of your face like he was burned, an expression of hurt and anger swirls in his eyes,

“who’s the father?” you look at him like he’s stupid, which only makes him more upset. “why are you looking at me like that?”

does he seriously think i got with someone else?

nam-gyu is distraught, the thought of you no longer being in love with him makes him sick. the fact that you’re carrying someone else’s child makes any will to live disappear. suddenly he doesn’t care that he owes money to anyone, there’s no chance to get you back. “does he treat you well? are you happier?”

“i’m not seeing anyone new, nam-gyu.”

“you shouldn’t be playing games if you’re pregnant. you could hurt yourself or the baby.”

despite his own lack of rationality when making choices, he was always so careful with you.

you threw any rationality you had and spit out the truth,

“it’s yours.”

now he was looking at you like you were stupid, “what?”

“the baby. it’s yours. you’re the father. i’m carrying your child.” he blinks at you slowly, taking in the information you just dropped on him,

“it’s.. you’re carrying.. our baby?” nodding your head, you step forward and take his hand and guide it to your stomach.

“after we broke up, i started to feel sick so i took a test. i didn’t know what to do, i couldn’t find a good job near my place, moving is too expensive, i was afraid to reach out to you. i owe the hospital so much because i’m paying by month but i ran out of savings and then this guy came up to me and gave me a card to make money.”

by the end of your ramble, nam-gyu pulled you in for a tight hug, smoothing your back with his hand. softly, he coos into your hair, “i would’ve never denied you. had you called, we could’ve figured this shit out together.”

you argued back, “how was i supposed to know that? you promised me over and over again but nothing changed!”

despite missing the warmth, you again create a distance by pushing him away from you, although it’s no use given how he holds your arms but he still keeps the distance out of respect for you.

“i have changed! i’m here, i’m going to win that money and i’ll take care of you.” his eyes plead, the hands that hold you start to shake.

“you’ll win it? alone?” the logic hits him and he laughs at his own idiocy, “we’ll win, i’ll make sure we both get out of here. we can put the money together. it’ll be more than enough for us to start over!”

you’re skeptical, sure the chance of winning is there but.. is your trust in him still there?

“if we win-“

his hands move from your arms to your stomach, “when baby, when we win-“

your eyes roll at his optimism, “if and when we win, you need to quit drugs. cold turkey. no excuses, no more second chances. if you so much as look at a drug, i will kill you and raise this kid alone, do you understand me?”

he mocks a soldier, hand to his head and stance straight, “yes ma’am!” the pose barely lasts as he starts to giggle, following you to your bed while holding onto your hand.

there was more to come, you had a feeling that much money wouldn’t come so easy, but things felt just a tad easier with him.

© ihrthoney. reblogs & feedback are greatly appreciated𑁤

[muzansfangs]

hi!! i really loved your NSFW alphabet for aizen… is there anyway i could request one for ukitake? thank you so much for all the work you create, everything you write is such a treat!

Nsfw alphabet – Ukitake Jushiro (letters b, c, j, k).

Starring: Jushiro Ukitake x f!reader;

Format: headcanons;

Warnings: nsfw, nipple play, sub!reader, switch!jushiro, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampie, breeding kink, masturbation;

Plot: some nsfw head canons about Jushiro Ukitake, based on some letters of the alphabet;

Author note: Hello there! As I have already had the occasion to tell you in another 'alphabet request’, I am not a huge fan of this format. In the future, I may decide to write the missing letters, but as for now enjoy the ones I have picked! I am sorry if this is not your cup of tea, but alphabets sometimes get repetitive and it is not exactly a turn on for me to write. Having said that, enjoy your unexpected Christmas present!

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Jushiro loves and lavishes every single part of your body. He is, without dispute, the kind of man who puts his partner first and kisses the ground she walks on. Nothing in the world matters more than you. But he is a man too and, as such, he is subjected to carnal urges and forbidden reveries. Surely, Jushiro is reserved and would rather not indulge in such deplorable debates, but if you asked him such a question he would not back down.

His favorite body part of you are your breasts. Jushiro loves to kiss them gently, lips tracing their outline, especially during foreplays to make your nipples harden. This man simply admits he could spend hours molding them, suckling on the buds reverently, watching with lovesick eyes the way they sway and jiggle when he thrusts into you, or you ride him. He is definitely a boobs man.

The first answer is directly connected to the second part of the question. About himself, he loves his lap. Sometimes, fatigue and his chronic illness do not allow him to overexert himself and this is when he lets you straddle his lap to ride him. The pace is slow, but your caresses are passionate. Jushiro just adores the way you bounce on his cock and the view of your breasts he has truly makes it hard for him to last for too long.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically).

Jushiro does not particularly like the idea of spilling his cum in any place that is not your womb. He comes from a chaotic, large family and his ultimate wish is to build one of his own. Can you really blame him for wanting to finish inside you, when you call out his name so sweetly, tenderly, and your body practically seems to coax him to come inside of you?

Keep in mind, though, that Jushiro does not take anything for granted. From the day you first gave him your permission to fill you up, he knew it was a privilege you were reserving only to him. Of course, he also knew you were not going to revoke it. Still, even today, he always makes sure you give him your full consent before he proceedes in coming into you. He is the incarnation of a gentleman.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Jushiro rarely indulges into masturbation. When he does, though, it means you are not around. Sometimes, you need to leave the Soul Society for a few days for special missions and he is really not the type to oppose to the idea of you being independent. He can take care of himself.

All he asks for, when you visit him to announce your departure, is for you to take a few pictures of yourself and send it to him. He loves watching you wearing human clothes. Pastel colors are his favorite. They compliment your skin.

It is absolutely needless to say he pumps his shaft in front of the pictures you send him. Your blushing boyfriend comes in a matter of minutes, especially since you often tease him by wearing provocative lingerie instead of cute sundresses.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

The Captain of the Thirteenth Division has basic kinks, well suited to a man of his age and position. Jushiro has a thing for breeding and praising.

His desire to impregnate you, to build a family is evident in bed but also in the way he casually hugs you from behind, hands resting over your belly, almost protectively, as he murmurs how beautiful you would look with a baby bump.

Praises, praises falling from your lips are such a turn on for him. If he is eating you out on his futon and you tell him he is bringing you to Cloud Nine, he might begin to grind his crotch over the mattress, whimpering in pride for making you feel so good.

Do not think he is not going to compliment you, to praise you. Jushiro is kind of talkative in bed. Expect to end up showered in praises, to hear sweet nothings, to be cradled in his arms as he comes into you.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! I did not mention that I was going to post this request too, because I wanted to post it as a ‘gift’. Sincerely, I hope you are going to enjoy this small work! Much love, warm hugs and your favorite hot drink to sip in front of a fireplace!

– Luce

[sluttysturn]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖𝖳𝖠𝖪𝖤 𝖨𝖳˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁

pairing ˖ ݁𖥔 dom!chris x virgin!reader

in which you are embarrassed about being a virgin, so your best friend, chris sturniolo, takes that problem away.

TW: smut, unprotected p n v (birth control), oral (received by reader), virginity loss, use of pet names

notes: (y/f/n = your friends name) (color of who’s speaking: y/f/n | y/n | chris | nick | matt)

credits: this story is inspired by @evie-sturns i read hers and wanted to make my own!! please check her out she has AMAZING work!!

a/n: first story!! lemme know what i can do to improve and PLEASE leave requests!! love you!!

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖

me and triplets have been best friends for over 10 years. but me and chris, we just clicked more.

we tell each other EVERYTHING. the only thing we don’t really talk about is our sex life. i don’t find that a bad thing because i am currently 21 years old and still a virgin.

i’ve always been insecure about it, but i just have never seemed to find a good enough guy.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

me, chris, nick, matt, and y/f/n were sitting in the triplets living room. madi was talking to me about some guy she fucked recently.

“and y/n you know how they make that weird sound when they finish?” y/f/n said ranting on and on.

i responded with a quick “mhm”

i hated talking about it. no one really knows i’m a virgin, but i’ve never talked about fucking a specific guy, so i’m sure they had there suspicions.

she was about to say something else when i got up and walked down the stairs to the front door slamming it behind me.

me and the triplets lived right next door so i walked over to my house.

“go check on her chris” nick says sternly and concerned.

chris got off the couch and walked out the door a little after putting his shoes on and grabbing his phone.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

chris arrived at my house that i shared with y/f/n. he pulled out the key i gave him along with matt and nick.

he unlocked the door and heard small sobs coming from my room. he immediately ran to my door and knocked lightly.

“y/n.. can i come in?”

“yeah..”

chris opened the door and walked in. he expression drop immediately when he sees my tear stained face.

“oh y/n.. what’s wrong sweetheart.”

“i can’t tell you.. you’re gonna laugh at me.”

“i would never.. talk to me”

i hesitated before saying it.

“i’m a virgin.” i blurted out.

chris furrowed his brows in confusion. he looked… shocked.

“wha- you’re a- how?!”

“what do you mean how i’ve never fucked anyone!”

“i know what virgin means but like- you’re gorgeous, how does anyone want to fuck.. you?”

“i mean- i’ve been asked but, i’m just- scared.”

“of what?” chris asked genuinely confused.

“i’m just scared ill suck at it, im scared it’ll hurt, and im scared whoever i actually fuck won’t go easy on me..”

he looked at me with a sorry expression. he didn’t know what to say to that but then he said something that really caught me off guard.

“i can fuck you..?” he says quietly, “just to teach you and so you will have experience.. you know?”

i was taken aback by his words. it’s not that i didn’t want to fuck him, but i didn’t want it to make everything awkward for us.

“chris.. i don’t know. what it make things- awkward.”

“don’t worry about that. think of it as a learning experience.”

i laughed lightly at his words.

“what if i suck at it?”

“you’ll be fine.. don’t worry. just let me make you feel good..”

he leans in but before kissing me he says something.

“do i have your full consent..?”

(never do ANYTHING with ANYONE unless you and they both have FULL consent!)

“mhm..”

he finally closed the gap between us. it started off gentle, but quickly turned into an aggressive kiss. our lips moved in perfect harmony and rhythm. it was like our lips were made for each other.

he pulls my shirt over my head and slides him hand up my back to unclasp my bra.

he looks down at my tits and his mouth falls open.

“fuck, y/n. you’re gorgeous.”

he kisses me again and i smile into the kiss causing him to do the same.

he pulls his shirt off and i look down smirking.

“eyes up here, gorgeous.”

i look up at him with the same smirk on my face. he pulls away from the kiss and starts kissing my neck. i let out a soft moan as he reaches my sweet spot.

he eventually wraps his lips around my right nipple and sucks on it lightly, causing me to moan with pleasure.

with him mouth still around my nipple, he pulls off my shorts. i lift my hips up to make it easier on him.

he moves his mouth off my right nipple and moves onto the left one. i gasp at his sudden movement.

he takes off my panties and moves his month off of me.

“alright i’m gonna stretch you out a little so it won’t be as hard to take me” he says smirking

“you’re so cocky, you know that?”

“i’m just spitting facts..”

he lays me down against my bed and spreads my legs.

“once again.. you’re gorgeous.”

he kissing both of my folds causing me to shutter at his contact.

“you ready?”

“mhm..”

he puts two fingers in my pussy and start doing a ‘come here’ movement.

i moan pretty loudly at this.

“oh fuck.. c-chris..”

chris loved hearing me moan and before he knew it, he was hard. like really hard.

after about 45 seconds of his fingers hitting me in my sweet spot, i can feel a knot forming in lower stomach.

“shit ch-chris.. im gonna c-cum.”

i was a moaning mess. he pulled his fingers out.

“save it for me baby.”

baby. i felt butterflies fly around my stomach.

chris took of his boxers and i could see the bulge in his boxers. i could already tell he was big. he then took of his boxer and his member bounced out. like i said, i knew he was big, but i didn’t know he was that big.

“holy shit chris. that’s not gonna fit in me.”

“you’re really boosting my ego, y/n.”

“shut up.”

he aligns his body with mine.

(we’re in missionary!)

“im gonna go slow, ok..?”

“mhm..”

he spits on his hand and slowly start pumping his hand up and down. soon after he pushes his tip in.

a small whimper escapes his mouth along with mine.

“you good..?”

“y-yeah..”

“ok im gonna keep going, ok? let me know if it hurt or if you need a break.”

i nod my head as he’s pushes more of himself in me. a soft moan escapes my lips.

soon after he’s fully in. he lets me adjust to his size.

“im gonna start ok?”

“mhm..”

he starts pumping in and out slowly causing me to moan pretty loud. he is also moaning too.

“fuck, y/n. you’re so tight..”

he starts pumping faster.

“f-fuck ch-chris.. i’m- not gonna l-last long..”

i say shutting my eyes tight and digging my nails into his shoulder blades.

i feel the familiar knot starting to form. i knew i wasn’t gonna last much longer.

chris could feel my walls close around him and he knew that i was gonna finish along with him.

“me too, baby. me to.”

i was moaning pretty loud at this point. i would be surprised if nick, matt, and y/f/n could hear us.

“you re-ready..?”

“ye-yeah”

and with that, with both finished together. i felt his hot liquid fill me up. our moans were a perfect harmony. i could feel his dick twitch inside of me.

“shit y/n..”

we were both panting and he laid on top of me, his dick still in me.

eventually he pulled out.

“so. how was it.”

“re-really good. thank you.”

“anytime”

he said kissing me one more time.

“let’s get you cleaned up.”

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁

a/n: if you liked this, please follow me/ like/ reblog!! give me some requests!! love youuu!

[sugarypinecones]

Hyeeee Your account is just *chef's kiss* but i was too embarassed so I got brave and wanted to ask you if you could write a Lityersesxfem!reader smut like... it's her first time or general nsfw headcanons about him

I don't want to bore you so if you don't want to, it's okay

xoxo 💋

anon🍎

lityerses x fem!reader nsfw hcs!

a/n : i love lityerses sm. looking through my inboxes (and as a dyslexic girl) i just realized what you said… that his name wasn’t some elaborate house of dragon character or something… so im writing this months later… my bad… sorry nonnie hopefully u still use this account

warning : nsfw

ooookkkay hi also i gave u 🍎 anon cause durr

he’s rough but like… in a gentle way.

like obviously, the last thing he wants to do is hurt u… but he just cant help it!!

thigh guy (not to be confused with the try guys on youtube..)

like!! ur chilling in bed? hand on ur thigh. eating breakfast? hand on ur thigh. making out? hand on ur thigh. u get the gist.

very vocal

like whining grunting mumbling begging under his breath even if hes already getting what he wants

that being said he also loves if UR vocal, nothing fills him with more pride

like absolutely loves making u desperate too.. like when ur so needy u dont know what to do.. hes feral fr

constantly kissing u to shut up

if ur sparring with him he’ll use the tactic “distract the pretty girl” which just consists of him saying filthy things mid slash or stab to distract u

also ^ with the rough thing hes usually kind of fast with it but occasionally will just… slow down.. to hear u beg or complain

like: “hm? what’s that?”

“oh, too slow?” and then he just like.. stops

that being said he will Probably edge u idk… he kind of likes being in control

again That being said he’s probably in control some way like even if ur on top he still has hands on your waist making sure he’s in charge

i feel like, also, hes really impatient

so like… if ur teasing him a little too much in bed the second he gets ur consent to go further he’s just pulling aside ur underwear rather than taking them off..

if making out he always has one hand on ur thigh (obvi before) but has another somewhere on your face pulling you more into him

this might just be bias but like… dry humping

he likes it a lot like almost too much idk why he just looks like he does have u seen his fanart

this is kinda filthy but Guys hear me out the hilt of his sword . And u. And him. Horny people do strange things if desperate. That’s all im elaborating….

prob takes u on stakeouts

then gets mad when it turns into makeouts

haha i think im funny

because hes too distracted and forgets his task and completely fumbles it

pulls u by ur collar into kisses

has no shame either

ok hi. i love u nonnie this was fun maybe ill make more if people like it ahh ahhh

[jyoongim]

ok but what about alastor with a reader like angel dust in the sense trapped and abused by valentino maybe they have a different sort of personality than angel dust but in a similar situation how would he react to seeing his s/o in that sort of a situation maybe they have to interact with valentino infront of him.

thoughts?

warnings: fluff????sexual trauma! mention of SA! Val is a perverted dick! Fem!reader, Alastor not letting shit slide but caring about your wellbeing first!

Think of this as an extension of the Alastor x retired!pornstar reader fic!

You and Angel took a beauty day from all the hustle and bustle of the hotel. The day was filled with spa appointments and shopping.

Angel laughed as you asked his opinion on lingerie that Alastor would like, blushing when he teased about the Overlord having the hots for you. You were having a great time; until Angel’s phone started blowing up.

Valentino.

The perverted bug was calling Angel in for a shoot and on his day off.

You grimaced, but you understood. 

Valentino didn't understand the word ‘No’.

Thats why you stayed away from the industry.

Consent did not matter. At least to Val. 

You shuddered at the unpleasant memories.

Angel apologized,  but you shook you head, looping your arm through his to walk him to the studio. You at least wanted to see him off.

You felt your ears flatten as you entered the studio, your palms getting sweaty as the two attendants opened the double doors to Val’s studio.

”Annnngeelll baby I missed you!” Val exclaimed, taking a puff of his cigarette as he approached the two of you.

His red eyes shifted to you, a purr rumbling through his chest

”ooooh Angel you didnt say you were bringing an absolute gem!” His large hand wrapped around your unwilling hand, bringing it to his lips and instead of kissing it…Val licked up your arm.

You immediately recoiled, giving a nervous smile “pleasure as always Val,  but I fear that I am not here for any…ugh entertaining purposes, just seeing Angel off before heading home”

Home.

That’s right home.

 You considered the hotel home.

Everyone was so nice and no one judged you for your past.

You didnt have to put on a persona for a camera and could just be yourself. You could laugh and cry and be comforted for it.

And you were treated like a person. By an evil Overlord at that.

Val chuckled darkly, looking you up and down “oooh really? Because Angel could use a few pointers, you might dress differently but you can’t fool me cara…” A slight burning sensation had you wince a bit, clutching your belly.

cursed womb mark. Damn you Valentino.

 “You’re nothing but a little cumslut” Val leaned down to whisper in your ear.

You narrowed your eyes, glaring up at him. Angel gave a nervous laugh to ease the tension “Why don’t you stay to watch one shoot eh? I don’t mind being criticized by a true professional” he tugged you under his arm, away from Val and to give you a wink.

You sighed “one shoot. Ill stay to watch one shoot”

Val grinned as he whisked you to sit in a director chair as he handed you the script.

You made a face of disgust as you looked over the script. Rough, demeaning sex and no buildup at all.

You shuddered. You were happy to have left all this behind but you knew everyone wasn’t lucky.

”ACTION SLUTS!” Val shouted to begin the scene.

Your eyes roamed about the scene and you felt sweaty.

Uncomfortable and anxiety. These were emotions you usually had when you were around Val, but they normally ran this rapid when you were in a shoot yourself.

But you weren’t…so why were you so nervous?

”What do you think about that angle?”

”You could have made that work”

”None of them are gonna reach your level!”

”Ugh they can’t even get that right!”

You barely listened to Val’s rambling until your lower belly burned, you clenched your teeth, eyes looking over at the smug pimp.

A smile was on his face, but it didn’t match his words.

”Why don’t you be a doll and show ‘em how its done babygirl” he tilted his head smiling knowingly.

It was like a light switch went off.

A warm feeling spread throughout your body and you found yourself moving towards the scene.

The script was rather raunchy;  ‘victim blindfolded and bound taken advantage of by gang’

”watch and learn” Valentino purred watching as a demon blindfolded you and settled you into a low arch.

You were surrounded. The warmth and heavy scents surrounded you as the demons touched and probed at you.

A whimper escaped your throat as a tongue licked at your cunt, dipping into you to give you some prep.

No No No No No No NO! You were screaming in your head as several cocks entered you.

Your lips parted to scream but a cock was shoved down your throat, a moan erupting from the demon who thrusted into your mouth.

Your body burned as you were worked into an orgasm. You kicked and thrashed to get the demons off of you.

They couldn’t cum in you, they just couldn’t.

Alastor…

Tears streamed down your face as you thought of the red demon.

How would be react when he found you smelling like other demons?

You had given up this lifestyle. You weren’t a whore who needed to flaunt her pussy to the world for a quick buck.

”G-get off-” you tried to say through the haze.

Your blindfold fell as you were pounded into, your eyes frantically meeting Val’s; a smirk was on his lips as he puffed his cigarette 

Go on and cum baby he mouthed

No! Nonononono!

Your body tensed as you cummed around a stranger’s dick.

A sob escaped you as the demon groaned before spilling his cum into you, the others cumming on your body.

Long arms wrapped around you, pulling you off the bed and you sobbed into a fuzzy chest.

”What the hell Val!” Angel hissed, wrapping a robe around you.

The tall demon snapped his finger and your womb mark ceased burning. “I’m sure the public would love to see such a diamond return to the spotlight. After all, she’s my best investment”

He looked over you, clicking his tongue and waving the two of you off as he shouted out commands for the next scene.

”I can’t believe that asshole did that to you. Oh toots don’t worry well get you cleaned up and good as new once we get to the hotel” Angel tried to reassure you.

You immediately ran to your room, getting in the bath and scrubbing at your skin.

Tears ran down your face as you scrubbed. You wanted the scent and feeling of those demons off you.

Your skin was red and you didn’t even realize how hard you were scrubbing until a clawed hand grabbed the sponge.

”Darlin scrub any harder and your skin will be raw” a radio-filtered voice chirped.

You jerked away, eyes wide as you watch Alastor drain the tub.

”now what’s got you so raddled?” He tilted his head in question.

Your lip quivered, head down, unable to meet his eyes.

A hand gently cupped your chin to make you look at him. Alastor had a very stern look on his face, despite the smile on his face.

”I-I-I’m sorry Al!” You bursted into sobs as you wrapped your wet arms around his neck.

He patted your back to soothe you, waiting for you to calm down so you could tell him what disturbed you so much.

”I was out with Angel and he was called to the studio a-and Val h-he h-he…I did something I vowed to never do I’m sorry I’m so sorry” you sobbed.

Alastor stiffened.

He knew what your occupation was before you came to the hotel. You had given that up to better yourself.

He never once thought that you would be dragged back to be a former version of yourself.

He could smell the scents of others on you, no amount of soap and fragrance could hide the fact he knew what had transpired.

”Oh my dear it’s alright” he cooed,pulling you to stand. To assess the damage that had been done.

Claw marks and an intricate mark on your lower belly.

He grimaced.

But he had more important matters to attend to, you.

He cautiously lathered you in lotions, put ointments on your wounds and dressed you for bed.

”Don’t worry your pretty head my dear, I don’t think of you any less. I know you wouldn’t have done something like that on your own free will” he hummed tucking you in, pressing a reassuring kiss to your forehead.

He waited until you fell asleep to slip away and once your bedroom door closed behind him, his aura darkened.

The hallways lights flickered and the building shook as his shadow angrily ripped at the wallpaper and figurines.

He made his way to his radio tower and smiled wickedly.

He wouldn’t let this offense go unnoticed. Oh no no one dared to lay a hand on his darlin and get away with it.

Oh he was going to make the Vees live a fucking nightmare

[soluversworld]

Pardonnez-moi, Monsieur!- Solivan brugmansia x Yan!G.N Reader! (Part 6!) Final (Rushed)-(Sfw!)

The kid at the back is a 18+ visual novel Minors don’t interact!-(new tws)

Words: 10000

Genre: Yandere-(Self aware yandere won the poll)

(Reader is G.N)-(This part is Sfw!)

Summary: You’ve become consumed by your obsession with Solivan Brugmansia. What started as innocent curiosity quickly spiraled into a fixation. He started it and you began to stalk him, learning every detail about his life. You felt a sick sense of satisfaction in making Sol’s world safer while growing increasingly delusional about your connection with him. Your love for him deepens as you fantasize about the future, convinced that you are the one who truly understands him—better than anyone else. Despite the line between reality and obsession blurring, you remain certain: Sol is yours, even if he doesn’t know it yet.. You’re his and he’s yours…

Trigger Warning: This content contains themes of obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, mental instability, and delusional thinking, Drugging, Yandere?, Hopeless in love for attention Please read with caution.

Obsessive behavior: The reader becomes dangerously fixated on someone, bordering on stalking and delusion.

Manipulation: The reader engages in schemes to control or harm others, often through deception.

Mental illness: Delusional thinking, possible dissociation from reality, and unhealthy fixation on someone.

Violence: There are references to bullying, physical harm, and emotional manipulation.

Emotional abuse: Both in terms of how the protagonist manipulates others and how they might internalize toxic behaviors.

Stalking: The reader watches and follows the person they are obsessed with.

Dubious Consent: Themes of physical closeness and intimacy while one party is incapacitated or pretending to be.

Dark Romanticization: Romanticizing toxic and unhealthy dynamics, including possessiveness and dominance.

Control and Power Imbalance: One character exhibits significant control over the other’s vulnerability.

You worked on preparing something in the kitchen, your focus wavered, and before you knew it, you accidentally called out to Sol the way Hyugo always did—“Sunny.”

He blinked, his expression shifting to one of mild confusion as he tilted his head. “Sunny?”

Realizing your slip, you quickly clarified, chuckling nervously. “Sorry, it’s just… Hyugo calls you that. I didn’t mean to—”

Before you could finish, Sol interrupted, his curiosity piqued. “If Hyugo gets to give me a nickname, why can’t you?”

The suggestion made you pause. A nickname for Sol? That felt… oddly intimate. But you couldn’t deny the idea was a little exciting. Your mind raced for something that felt fitting, something uniquely yours to call him.

“Pumpkin,” you blurted out, testing the waters.

Sol’s lips twitched into a soft smile, his crimson-orange eyes lighting up at the suggestion. “Pumpkin, huh?” he repeated, letting the word roll off his tongue. He seemed pleased at first but then placed a finger under his chin, his gaze turning thoughtful as he studied you.

“But,” he began slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, “don’t you think that nickname suits you better?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

He nodded, his tone calm and resolute. “Yes, it suits you.”

Your cheeks warmed as you processed his words. “It’s the nickname you want me to have, huh?” you asked, trying to sound playful, but the warmth in his gaze was almost too much to handle.

“It fits you,” he said simply, smiling as if that was all the explanation needed.

Your heart skipped a beat as his words lingered in the air. Of course, you knew exactly why it felt so familiar. Pumpkin. It was the name he whispered when he thought you were asleep, the name he muttered under his breath during those nights he lingered too close for too long. You bit your lip, trying to push the thought away before it consumed you entirely.

“…I always hear this nickname in my dreams,” you muttered absentmindedly, immediately regretting it when you saw Sol’s eyes widen in surprise. You quickly waved your hand to dismiss it. “Ah, it’s nothing, really.”

But Sol’s reaction was something else entirely. His face softened into a look of pure adoration, as if the idea that you might dream of him made his heart burst. That realization seemed to make him… happy. Dangerously happy.

You coughed awkwardly and tried again. “Alright, how about… babygirl?”

The moment the word left your lips, Sol’s eyes widened like saucers before he let out an uncharacteristic snicker. His shoulders shook as he tried to stifle his reaction, but within seconds, he broke into full laughter, clutching his stomach as he doubled over.

“Ahahahaha!” he laughed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Bitch! I’m serious! Stop laughing!” you exclaimed, your face burning with embarrassment. “You’re so cute—ahhh…” That last part slipped out in a mumble, but you couldn’t take it back now.

Sol wiped at his eyes, his laughter finally settling as he caught his breath. “I have no idea where you got that idea, but I’m clearly far from being a… babygirl.” He snickered again, shaking his head. “It’s cute, though.”

“Husband?”

Sol choked on his breath the moment the words left your lips. His head snapped to the side as he desperately tried to hide the deep crimson blush spreading across his cheeks. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t suppress the ridiculously goofy smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, god,” he muttered under his breath, his voice cracking slightly. “You… want to… ahaha—”

You grinned at his flustered state, deciding to push him further.

“Are you sure?” he stammered, glancing at you nervously. “Don’t you think people are going to, you know, take it the wrong way if you start calling me your husband, Y/n?”

You leaned forward, propping your chin in your hand with a teasing glint in your eyes. “I don’t care,” you said with a shrug, smirking at how his blush deepened. “But I think you’ll die of shyness before anyone else says anything.”

He inhaled sharply, his eyes darting everywhere except at you.

“I mean, you do give off husband vibes,” you continued with a giggle.

Sol’s gaze immediately dropped to his lap, his fingers nervously fumbling with the edge of his sleeve as he mumbled under his breath, “You’re killing me…Y/n”

You giggled harder, relishing his reaction. “Alright, alright! I’ll think of something else. But hey—‘husband’ would be so cute, wouldn’t it?”

His ears turned an even darker shade of red as he tried to compose himself, but he was clearly losing the battle.

“This is the final one then!” you declared with a triumphant smile. “Love.”

Sol froze, his entire body stiffening at the sound of the word. A visible shiver ran up his spine as his wide eyes finally met yours.

“L-Love?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, grinning like a cat who’d just cornered a mouse.

The tips of his ears practically glowed crimson as he quickly looked away again, twiddling his thumbs nervously. His leg began to bounce under the table, betraying the nerves he was desperately trying to hide.

“I’m… I’m alright with that,” he finally murmured, his voice unsteady but undeniably sincere.

You couldn’t resist leaning closer, teasing him further. “You sure people won’t take that the wrong way?”

Sol’s lips twitched into a shy smile as he took a deep breath. Then, so quietly you almost missed it, he whispered, “I wouldn’t mind, though… let them know. Let them all know that you only belong to me.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, your face heating up despite yourself.

You prided yourself on being observant—sometimes you thought it was a curse, noticing every little thing about him. But now? Watching the way his shy smile betrayed the possessiveness simmering beneath the surface?

It felt like a blessing.

“Should I think of something else?” you teased, tilting your head as you watched his reaction.

Before you could even finish the thought, Sol sat up abruptly, almost standing, his hands raised in a halting gesture as if to physically stop your words from escaping.

“No—‘Love’ is perfect,” he said, his tone firm but laced with a flicker of surprise. His expression was serious, almost too serious, but the intensity in his eyes spoke volumes.

A slow, knowing smile spread across your face. “Alright, Love,” you said softly, drawing out the word just to see his reaction.

Sol froze for a moment, his breath hitching, before leaning back against the couch. His body seemed to relax, but his eyes told a different story. They were heavy-lidded, clouded with a lovestruck haze, as if the nickname alone had sent him spiraling into a daydream he didn’t want to escape.

His gaze never wavered from you, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. He looked utterly intoxicated, like you’d just become the center of his entire universe—and you savored every second of it.

Your gaze locked with his, the lovestruck look in your eyes mirroring his own. It was intoxicating, overwhelming. The air felt heavy, thick with unspoken emotions that threatened to swallow you both whole. Realizing how deep you’d fallen into his stare, you quickly turned away, heat flooding your cheeks.

“I-I need to cook!” you stammered, desperate to break the spell.

You turned toward the kitchen, fumbling with your phone before pulling up a how-to-make-curry video. “Hey, Sol,” you said without looking back, “could you teach me some food art? Like those fancy lunches you used to make for Hyugo?”

Sol tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at your request before a soft, amused smile broke across his face. “You want me to teach you, huh? Sure… But only if I can help.”

“No!” You spun to face him, waving a finger in protest. “You’re injured! Just sit there and be cute.”

He let out a dramatic sigh, his lips forming a perfect pout as he leaned back against the counter. “Fine,” he grumbled, crossing his arms, though his eyes sparkled with amusement.

After a moment of gathering ingredients, Sol perked up and began listing off what you’d need for the curry. His voice was calm and instructive, guiding you with ease.

When you finished washing the vegetables, you grabbed the knife, determined to show him you could handle it. But before you could make the first cut, Sol was suddenly beside you, his hand gently covering yours as he slid the knife away.

“Let me,” he said smoothly, picking up the knife and turning to the cutting board with an air of effortless confidence.

“Sol, you’re supposed to be resting!” you scolded, but he ignored you, his focus entirely on the task at hand.

With practiced precision, he chopped each vegetable into perfectly equal pieces, his movements fluid and almost mesmerizing. He finished quickly, setting the knife down with a smug grin.

“Showoff,” you muttered under your breath, narrowing your eyes at his cocky expression.

“Oh?” His grin widened, and he leaned closer. “You asked for my help, didn’t you?”

Before he could say more, you reached out and grabbed his hand, your fingers brushing over his bandaged knuckles. “You’re hurt,” you reminded him softly, your voice filled with concern.

For a moment, Sol froze, his confident facade cracking as his expression softened. His gaze fell to your hands holding his, and something tender flickered in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. But he didn’t pull his hand away.

You held his hand a little tighter, looking up at him with a mix of exasperation and affection. “No more sneaky knife tricks, okay?”

He smiled—soft, genuine, and utterly disarming. “Okay,” he said, but the glint in his eye told you he was already planning his next move.

Sol sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re impossible. But fine, if you’re going to be stubborn, let me at least guide you so you don’t chop a finger off.”

You grabbed the knife, determined to prove yourself. “I can manage just fine!” you huffed, setting the carrot on the cutting board and trying to carve it into a petal shape. The result was… less than perfect.

Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you—warm, close, and undeniably suffocating. Sol’s hands gently covered yours on the knife, his chest brushing lightly against your back as his breath fanned your ear.

“You’re too tense,” he murmured, his voice low and coaxing, like honey dripping into your thoughts. “Relax… I’ll show you how.”

Your breath hitched. Relax? How am I supposed to relax when you’re this close?

He adjusted your grip, his hands guiding yours with expert precision. “See? Like this,” he said, his tone a little too soft, a little too seductive.

You wanted to say something—anything—but the words caught in your throat. The warmth of him pressed against you, the way his fingers curled over yours… it was overwhelming. You felt your cheeks heat up, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind.

Does he know what he’s doing?

“Of course I know what I’m doing,” Sol said out of nowhere, very seriously.

Your heart skipped a beat. “W-What?!”

He paused, confused, then smirked knowingly. “I mean… I do know my ways with knifes.“

Can he read my mind?

Somehow, under his guidance—and despite the mess in your head—you managed to cut a carrot petal perfectly. You stared down at the result, momentarily stunned.

“Well done,” Sol said, his hands still lingering over yours. “Should I show you again, or—”

You practically jumped out of his grasp, spinning around with a sheepish smile. “Nope! Got it! Thanks! All good here!” you blurted, waving your hands frantically.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your reaction. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind helping you again.”

“Nope! I’m fine!” you squeaked, your voice higher than usual.

Sol chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, pumpkin,” he said, stepping back with an air of victory.

Your mind raced as you turned back to the cutting board, gripping the knife tightly to ground yourself. Does he know what kind of effect he has on me?

You groaned internally, deciding then and there to never let him cook with you ever again.

You couldn’t meet his eyes. “No! It’s fine! I got it!” you blurted, jumping up with a Mickey Mouse-like squeak, hands flailing as if trying to prove a point. “I got it right! See?” You turned toward the sink in a panic, trying to wash your hands to do something, anything, to distract yourself from his lingering gaze.

But the thoughts swirled around in your mind like a storm. What was it about him? Why did you feel so… lost in him?

Why was everything he did, every word he spoke, making your heart race like this?

Sol tilted his head, frowning as you adamantly refused to let him help prepare dinner. “I’ll just do something easy then, okay? Like juice. No knives, no heavy lifting—safe and simple.” His tone was calm, but his persistence was unyielding.

You sighed, cornered by his determination. “Fine. Orange juice. That’s it. Nothing else,” you said firmly, though your heart raced for an entirely different reason.

Sol moved toward the counter, pulling out oranges and the juicer, you couldn’t shake the gnawing suspicion creeping into your thoughts. Why does he want to help so badly? It wasn’t that you didn’t trust his skills; you knew he was competent—better than you, even. But the darker part of your mind whispered something sinister: He’s going to drug it. That’s what the sleeping pills in his pocket are for, right?

You shook your head, trying to focus on the curry simmering on the stove. Still, your thoughts kept wandering back to the juice. What if he’s planning to make me fall asleep just so he can…

Your pulse quickened. The idea wasn’t entirely unpleasant, which disturbed you even more. Stop it. You’re the one with the upper hand here, you reminded yourself.

Minutes later, Sol handed you a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, a proud smile on his face. “Here. The least painful job, as promised.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, setting it aside on the counter. The curry was boiling hot, nearly ready to serve. You turned off the stove, setting the pot on a trivet. But your mind was already spinning with plans.

“Hey, Sol,” you began, keeping your tone light and casual. “Could you call Hyugo and let him know you’re at my place? You know how he gets if we don’t keep him in the loop.”

Sol raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Your phone’s dead, though.”

“Yeah, but yours isn’t,” you countered smoothly. “Just tell him I dragged you here for dinner. I don’t want him thinking you’re in trouble or anything.”

Sol hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Alright. I’ll go step outside and call him.”

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, you grabbed the glass of juice he’d prepared, a sly grin spreading across your face. Maybe drugged, maybe not, you thought, shaking your head. Doesn’t matter. Not taking chances.

You poured the juice into the sink, washing the glass thoroughly before retrieving a fresh batch from the fridge. You poured the untainted juice into a clean glass, you added a few ice cubes to ensure it would be cold enough to mask any suspicion.

“Let’s see who gets played now,” you muttered under your breath, giggling softly at your own cunning.

The curry was ready, the table set, and the replacement juice sat innocently in its place. You had one last card to play, though—a small vial of medicine you had tucked away. It wasn’t a sedative exactly, but it would mimic the effects, making you feel tired without fully knocking you out. Perfect for your plan.

You dropped a dose into the “safe” glass of juice you’d prepared for yourself. You needed to stay just awake enough to watch Sol’s reaction, to see the cracks in his perfect facade when he thought you were asleep.

Let’s see your demons come out, Sol.

The door opened, and Sol returned, his expression softening as he saw the table set. “Hyugo says hi,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“Great,” you replied, motioning for him to sit.

The warmth of the curry lingered on your tongue as you took another bite, humming in delight. Across the table, Sol chuckled softly, savoring his own meal with a small, content smile.

“You should write down the spices you had me add,” you said, swirling the remnants of your curry around with your spoon. “I didn’t think this would turn out so good.”

“Really?” Sol’s eyes sparkled. “You did most of the work. I just pointed a few things out.”

He leaned back, his movements relaxed, yet there was a subtle tension in his frame—like a predator watching its prey.

The conversation drifted to food, and Sol offered casually, “I could send you some of my favorite recipes if you ever want to try making them.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you murmured, smiling faintly.

As the room fell into a quiet rhythm, your thoughts wandered, drawn to him. His presence today had been… overwhelming. From the moment he protected you to cooking beside you in the kitchen, Sol had wormed his way into your life in ways that felt far too intimate. It wasn’t just comfort; it was something deeper, darker.

It felt domestic.

It felt… right.

The thought sent a twisted thrill racing through your veins, like an itch you couldn’t scratch. You glanced at Sol, who was casually sipping his juice, his eyes flicking to yours every so often.

You tilted your head back, chugging the last of the orange juice in a single gulp. Sol raised an eyebrow at you, amused, but there was something sharp in his gaze, something that made your pulse quicken.

Your breath hitched. The room seemed warmer than before.

What if he did drug it? The idea had been lurking in the back of your mind all night, and now, with every sluggish beat of your heart, you were almost sure.

And yet…

You didn’t feel fear. You felt exhilaration.

Your mind spiraled. Would he take care of me if I passed out? Would he carry me to my room? Or would I wake up to something… darker? Would I see that beautiful, unhinged side of him fully unleashed?

The weight of your eyelids began to drag, and you couldn’t stop the lazy smile creeping onto your lips.

“What time is it?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

“8:45,” Sol replied, his voice smooth but low—almost teasing.

You blinked at him, your vision blurring slightly. Your heart raced even as your body started to betray you. You had overdone it on the dose; the sleepy effects were hitting faster than expected.

“I’ve taken too much of your time, Lo—Sol.” You let out a yawn, barely able to hold back a crazed little laugh at how this was all unfolding. “You… should go home. Right? There’s class tomorrow.”

Sol’s expression softened, his smile laced with something… dangerous. His eyes burned with an intensity that made your stomach twist—half fear, half desire.

“No need to worry about me,” he said, leaning in slightly. “I’m happy you let me in. Happy you trusted me enough to treat my wounds, to share dinner.” His words dripped with sincerity, but his gaze… his gaze was anything but innocent.

You tried to lift a hand to his face, to cup his cheek, but your vision swam. There were three of him now, all staring at you, all wearing the same soft, deranged smile.

“You seem tired, pumpkin,” Sol whispered

Your heart stuttered, a crazed, heady feeling overtaking you. This is it. This is what I wanted. Show me more of you, Sol.

“It’s fine,” you mumbled, your words slurred. “Just let me get you… something. You need to g-go home, right?”

The glass slipped from your fingers, shattering against the floor. The sound was distant, muffled, like it came from another world.

And then you saw it.

Sol’s smile stretched wider, darker, and his eyes gleamed with an obsession so raw it almost brought you to tears.

God, I love this. You thought, the corners of your lips twitching into the barest of smirks as your body gave in to the drowsiness.

Just before your vision faded, you caught the glint of his teeth as he whispered something you couldn’t quite make out.

It didn’t matter.

You wanted it.

Beyond your hazy, blurred vision, you caught the faint movement of Sol’s smile—serene, calm, yet undeniably dark. His hand pushed away the untouched glass of orange juice, his fingers lingering as if mocking your little game.

You sly bastard, your mind whispered, every word tinged with a delirious, obsessive warmth. God, fuck you… fuck you… I love you.

Your senses still clung to you, though your body betrayed the act. You were awake—barely. Every sound, every tiny motion, was amplified in the fog of your mind. You could hear him move closer, the scrape of his chair on the floor, the soft crunch of glass underfoot as he stepped toward the sink.

You wanted to laugh, but you couldn’t. He knows… maybe not all of it, but enough. Oh, Sol… you brilliant, twisted soul. Take me.

He turned toward the pitcher of orange juice and the abandoned glass, his gaze unreadable. The slight crunch of a packet in his pocket caught your ears, the sound piercing through the fog like a whisper meant only for you.. those pills. So that’s your game. Were you going to play me, Sol? Or were you testing me?

The thought burned into your chest, clawing its way into your obsessive thoughts.

It doesn’t matter. You stayed, didn’t you? You’re still here… with me. God, I’ll let you win this game if you want, just don’t stop playing with me.

You felt his hands—steady, firm—on your shoulders. His touch was everything. Comforting. Possessive. Sinister. His breath, warm against your neck, sent shivers down your spine.

You’re tasting me already, aren’t you? Savoring me.

He inhaled deeply, the sound deliberate, almost indulgent, as if he couldn’t help himself. The soft tremor that followed made your heart leap even in your lethargic haze.

You wanted to moan. But you couldn’t. All you could do was feel.

His voice broke the silence, soft and low, dripping with tenderness and control.

“Let’s get you to bed, pumpkin.”

Your thoughts spiraled. Pumpkin. That name again… it’s mine, isn’t it? Yours. Ours. Say it again. Say it when you think I’m not listening. Say it while you’re watching me.

He slipped an arm beneath your legs and the other behind your back, lifting you with a gentleness that made your skin ache. His strength surprised you, even through his bandaged wounds. He carried you like you were precious. Fragile. His spouse

Your heart hammered, your chest heavy with a love so twisted it felt like it would tear you apart.

This is what I wanted. This is what I fucking dreamed of. Take me, Sol. I don’t care what it looks like. I don’t care what you do. Just don’t leave. Don’t leave me alone. You’re mine as much as I’m yours. I’ll make you see that someday. I’ll show you… no one else can give you this.

You felt the rhythmic sway of his steps as he carried you toward your room, his lips moving softly—words you couldn’t quite catch but that you knew were meant for you.

What are you saying, Sol? Sweet nothings? Promises? Confessions? Tell me. Tell me everything. Tell me while you think I can’t hear. I want to live in your darkness… drown in it. You’re perfect. You’re mine.

He laid you down gently, his hands lingering just a little too long as he adjusted you on the bed.

Sol, Sol, Sol… touch me more. Just a little more. Show me everything. Don’t stop now… don’t ever stop.

You felt the covers pulled over you, the fabric brushing against your skin. His fingers brushed against your temple, lingering, soft but firm.

“Heh… Hahaha… Hahahahaha.” Sol’s laughter rang out, soft but unhinged, dripping with the kind of madness that sent chills down your spine and heat rushing to your cheeks.

Oh god, you whispered in your mind, trying to steady the storm of emotions coursing through you.

You didn’t know anymore—was it his broken, chaotic soul you loved, or was it just him, the entirety of him, darkness and all?

“Oh, my darling Y/N,” Sol purred, his voice a velvety mix of affection and possession, “I feel so flattered that you trust me so, so much.”

You giggled silently to yourself. Trust? Oh, Sol… if only you knew the truth. You’d watched him for months, hadn’t you? Studied him from afar, noted every habit, every nuance. You’d been drawn to him long before this moment, long before he thought he had won you.

“Despite meeting me yesterday,” he continued, his tone softening but not losing its edge, “isn’t this proof enough? Proof that you’re meant to be mine, as I was always meant to be yours?”

Your breath hitched. God, the way he spoke, the way his words dug under your skin and coiled around your heart like a vice. You were his… but oh, Sol, how little he knew. You were already more his than he could ever realize.

Your thoughts betrayed you. I want to drown in you, Sol. Kiss you until we’re both breathless. Draw your face over and over, photograph every moment of your obsession, and immortalize it in my mind forever.

He shifted closer, his wicked grin evident even without looking. You felt his breath against your neck, hot and electric, his arms tightening possessively around you. His head rested against your chest, and your traitorous heart thudded faster. You could feel him smiling against your skin.

“Your soul resonates with mine,” he whispered, his voice a low hum that made your blood race. “I can hear it, feel it, see it in the way you linger even in your dreams.”

God, you were burning alive. You could barely keep your thoughts contained. Sol, you’re driving me mad. How can I keep pretending? I want to turn over, look at you, and devour the chaos in your eyes.

Sol snuggled even closer, practically merging with you as his body molded against yours. “I love you so much, Y/N,” he murmured, his lips brushing faintly against your ear. “I want you to realize it, deep in your soul. I want your heart to sing mine’s name. I know it’ll take time… but I’m growing impatient, sweetheart.”

You nearly whimpered, biting down the sound before it could escape. Your pulse betrayed you again, hammering wildly in your chest. He heard it. Oh, you knew he heard it.

His voice dipped lower, as if to himself, but you caught every word. “When will you realize?”

You almost broke then and there, your thoughts screaming. I do, Sol. I do realize. I know exactly what we are, what we’re becoming. You’re chaos and obsession, and I’m the fool who craves it all.

But instead, you stayed silent, pretending to sleep, letting him believe you were entirely under his spell. All the while, you simmered with a deranged kind of love that mirrored his own. You wanted him. God, you wanted him. And soon, you’d let him know just how much.

Your body lay still, but inside, you were burning with a dangerous desire. You had to keep pretending, keep playing this game of sweet dreams and soft whispers, while your mind spun in wicked thoughts of Sol and everything you wanted to do to him.

“Sol… Sol…” you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, your voice soft and dreamy, like a confession in the night.

He froze, his heart leaping in his chest at the sound of his name on your lips. His breath hitched as his mind scrambled, unsure if you were truly asleep or if this was some kind of delicious tease. His arms tightened around you instinctively, and you felt the sudden heat of his body pressing into yours.

You let out a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh, as if lost in a dream. “Sol…” you whispered again, dragging it out just enough to make him crave more.

His face was burning now, the heat of his blush almost suffocating. He couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto his lips, the kind of smile that was both pure adoration and a little bit dangerous. He believed it — every word you said, every whisper. In his mind, this was confirmation, this was what he had been waiting for, that you truly desired him, just as much as he desired you.

So cute, he thought, watching your lips curl into a peaceful, dreamy expression. It was enough to drive him wild with longing. The way you whispered his name — you were playing, teasing him, and it was the most intoxicating thing he’d ever heard.

“God…” he muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse. He felt a tremble run through his body as his grip on you tightened again.

You could hear him, feel his heartbeat picking up as he fought to keep his composure. But you could tell. His weakness was your touch, your words, your presence. The way you acted like a dreamer in his arms, how you whispered his name as though you were lost in the warmth of him.

It was all too much for him to bear. His face burned with a blush that he couldn’t hide, his breath growing shallow as he fought against the overwhelming urge to pull you even closer.

Sol’s breath trembled as he watched your peaceful expression, your lips softly parted, whispering his name again, and again. His chest tightened with something deep, primal, like a yearning that refused to be ignored.

“Dreaming about me…” he murmured, his voice thick with longing, almost trembling with the raw emotion he couldn’t hide. His lips quivered as if they couldn’t contain the truth he felt deep inside. “Ah… Darling, do you love me too?”

His words were low, quiet—he thought you were still asleep, your body gently relaxed in his arms. He didn’t want to disturb you, didn’t want to force an answer. But deep down, he needed to hear it. He needed confirmation that you felt the same way he did.

His heart pounded as he looked at you, as though you were everything he could ever dream of. He felt weak under the weight of his own desire and affection. He whispered again, voice barely a breath, “I need you to know… I love you so much, Y/N.”

The tears that welled in his eyes were a sign of how deeply he cared, how completely he was consumed by you. It was more than obsession. It was devotion, twisted with a dark desire. He didn’t realize that he was slowly losing control, his emotions getting the better of him.

He pulled you a little closer, burying his face in your hair, his breath hitching. “You’re mine, Y/N. No one else.” His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his possessiveness, but also with a tenderness he only allowed himself to feel in this moment with you.

he held you tighter, his lips kissed the top of your head, lingering for a moment, his tears mixing with his whispered confession. “I just want you to know… You’re everything to me, darling.” He paused, his voice shaking as he waited for a response he didn’t expect, but desperately craved.

Sol’s breath hitched as he rifled through your closet, his hands trembling with excitement as he pulled out pieces of clothing he planned to steal some clothing… A piece of you he could keep close, something only he could touch. He grinned to himself, the thought of having you so wrapped around him, even in your absence, sending waves of pleasure through his chest.

He leaned in, placing a soft kiss on your cheek, his lips lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered, his voice thick with affection, as he turned to continue his search.

You lay there, eyes closed, pretending to be asleep, feeling the exhaustion settling deep into your bones. The warmth of his embrace was comforting, but you knew what he wanted—what he always wanted. You felt your thoughts swirl in that dangerous, delicious obsession, but you couldn’t stop it. Not now.

Sol’s arms clung to one of your oversized sweaters as he nuzzled his face into the fabric, inhaling your scent like it was his lifeline. His smile was lazy, lovesick, almost deranged in its intensity. After kissing your cheek and whispering, “I’ll be right back, darling,” he slipped into your closet, leaving you lying there in feigned sleep.

You barely moved, too torn between exhaustion and the thrill of what you knew he was doing. Sol rummaging through your things was almost too perfect a scenario, one you’d dreamed of before, but tonight it was real.

Inside the closet, Sol’s hands moved with almost reverent care as he touched your clothes, holding each piece as though it were sacred. A gleam of mischief lit up his heterochromatic eyes when he decided to “borrow” one of your hoodies. for him to hug.

Then, something caught his eye. A box tucked into the corner of the closet, partially hidden beneath a blanket. Curiosity burned brighter than caution as he crouched down and pulled it into the dim light. His hands were trembling as he opened the lid.

And then… his world shifted.

Photos of him—and Hyugo. Some candid, others blurry as though taken from a distance. Sketches, endless sketches of his face in varying poses, from loving to enraged to serene. Notes and details scribbled in the margins, every single one obsessively accurate.

Bandages. A pencil he hadn’t even realized you’d taken—one he’d lost just days ago. A button from his sweater.

And then there was the journal.

Sol’s fingers brushed over its cover, his breath uneven as he opened it. His name, written over and over again in feverish handwriting. Doodles of hearts, sketches of his profile, and words—declarations, fantasies, phrases that mirrored the chaos in his own mind. It was uncanny. It was terrifying.

It was exhilarating.

He felt his lips curl into an unhinged look as he flipped through the pages, faster and faster, his eyes devouring every stroke of the pen.

But then, a sound—sharp, sudden, and chilling—broke through his thoughts.

A creak. Like the groan of floorboards or the protest of something heavy shifting. Sol froze, his grip tightening on the journal. Slowly, he turned his head toward the closet door.

“…Y/N?”

The moment Sol turned his head, you were already moving. Before he could react, you were on him, pinning him to the floor with a force that sent the box scattering. Pictures, sketches, and your deepest secrets spilled across the floor like a dam breaking. Sol’s back hit the floor, his wide eyes staring up at you, his lips parted in a silent gasp.

You hovered over him, your hands trembling as they gripped his shoulders—not his neck, not his hands. Not the places that screamed at you to touch. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

“I can’t hold you by your neck… because you hate it, don’t you?!” you hissed, your voice breaking, a venomous whisper mixed with something almost tender. “And your hands—I can’t touch those either! Because these hands saved me! They’re too… precious! I know all of this because I saw you too!” Your words were frantic, your breath uneven as your emotions clawed their way out of you, raw and desperate.

His eyes were locked on yours, his mouth slightly agape, but he didn’t move, didn’t resist. His blush deepened, spreading across his pale cheeks, but he stayed silent. Watching. Listening.

You felt your resolve crack further, a sob hitching in your throat as you leaned closer, your voice trembling. “Y-you weren’t supposed to see that! None of that!” You gestured wildly at the journal, the photos, the sketches. “Why couldn’t you just—just stay there? Just lay with me? Why are you so goddamn greedy, Sol?” Your words were sharp, accusing, but your expression betrayed your own obsession, your own twisted love.

“You’ve already stolen so much from me. My heart, my thoughts—hell, a dozen of my clothes! And now, this?!” You gestured to the box again, your voice rising before it cracked into a broken whisper. “You greedy, disgusting bastard… And me? I’m no better. I’m just as bad. Look at us…”

Your words faltered as your gaze met his, and you froze. His face mirrored yours—exactly. The wide, crazed eyes, dilated pupils, blush streaking his cheeks like war paint. His lips quivered, caught between a nervous smile and the urge to speak, but no words came. He just stared at you, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling beneath you.

You were paralyzed by the intensity of it—the horrifying, beautiful realization. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t angry.

He was just like you.

A sick laugh bubbled out of you, breaking the silence. “Look at us… Look at how disgusting we are, Sol! You—stealing my clothes like some lovesick thief. And me? God, I’m worse. So much worse. Hiding this box, drawing you like some obsessed freak… We're—” You choked on your words, tears threatening to spill, but the manic grin on your face remained. "We’re both so fucking far gone. It’s sick. We’re sick.”

And yet… there was something so horribly, perfectly satisfying about it.

Sol lay beneath you, his eyes wide and unblinking, his breath caught in his throat as your words tumbled out in a chaotic symphony of revelation. His lips parted as if to say something, but nothing came. His silence was deafening, his body frozen, his face betraying that strange, terrifying cocktail of shock and… acceptance.

“You… you’ve been stalking me, haven’t you?” you whispered, your voice sickly sweet as you leaned closer, lips brushing just past his ear. “You watched me, didn’t you? Followed me home… went through my things. You even drugged me—or almost did. Almost.” Your laugh was low and breathy, sending shivers down his spine. You could feel it, the way his body tensed and trembled beneath your touch.

And then, with a sudden, wicked grin, you asked, “May I?” Your lips hovered near his neck, the words dripping with teasing affection. He didn’t answer, only inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling rapidly. That was enough.

You pressed your lips to his neck, slow and deliberate, and he shuddered under you. His arms moved almost instinctively, wrapping around you as if to anchor himself. His breaths came heavier now, his hands gripping the fabric of your clothes.

“Sol, Sol, Sol…” you murmured against his skin, giggling softly as you pulled back to look at him. His face was a mess of emotions—blush spreading across his cheeks, lips trembling, eyes half-lidded and glazed over with something primal. “Look at you… My beloved, my sweet, sweet Sol.. Is it shocking to see me this crazey?!”

You tilted your head, studying him like an artist admiring their own masterpiece. “I can’t even decide if I should kiss you again or just… hug you forever.” Your laugh broke out again, louder, unhinged. “Ahahaha! Oh, God, I can’t even choose! You make me want everything, Sol! Everything you are!”

Your grin widened further, almost painful, your voice sharp and cutting even as your tone stayed sweet. “That smile of yours… That’s the one, isn’t it? The one that blinds me to everyone else. Like a bright, burning sun that drowns out the whole world. God, you’re so good at pretending to be sweet, but I see you, Sol. I see what’s behind it!”

You pressed your forehead against his, your grin softening, but your words still carried that playful, mocking edge. “You’re a little liar, you know? Just like me. And you know what?” Your voice dropped, almost reverent, as you whispered, “I love it. I love you.”

You paused, giggling again, shaking your head as if you couldn’t believe it yourself. “But let’s not pretend I’m better. Oh, no.” You gestured wildly at the scattered contents of your box. “I’m just as bad as you. Worse, even. Look at all this! I’m a walking red flag, and you—” You leaned back slightly, giving him a once-over, your smile turning teasing. “You’re waving me around like you’re proud.”

Your laughter echoed again, filling the space around you, almost hysterical. “What a pair we make! The obsessed and the obsessive… No, wait—who’s who again?” You tilted your head, smirking. “It doesn’t matter, does it? We’re both disgusting, both broken… and God, isn’t it just perfect?”

Sol’s wide-eyed stare softened just slightly, his lips quirking into the faintest of smiles. A fragile, deranged thing that mirrored your own.

And as you leaned closer again, your voice dropped to a whisper, still playful, still sharp. “I’ll trash-talk myself all day, darling, but don’t think for a second you’re off the hook. You’re mine, Sol. And I’m yours. So, go ahead…”

You cupped his face again, your grin never faltering. “Say something. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m not exactly what you wanted.”

Your fingers curled into Sol’s shirt with trembling force, clutching it so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, tears pooling in your eyes as you stared down at him. The words spilled from your lips before you could stop them, each syllable laced with frustration, desperation, and something raw and terrifying.

“Why? Why aren’t you saying anything?!” Your voice cracked as you shook him slightly, your grip relentless. “Why aren’t you telling me anything?! I know you feel it—I see it! You’re just like me! You’re the same as me!” Tears streamed down your cheeks, but your voice only grew louder, more frantic. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Sol! You—”

You froze mid-sentence, your eyes locking with his. His expression hadn’t changed. Those eyes of his… they were the same as yours. Wide, shimmering, and brimming with something overwhelming—something obsessive. They mirrored your own crazed love-stricken gaze so perfectly it stole the breath from your lungs.

He was silent, utterly still, and yet… there it was. That unshakable devotion, that desperate yearning. It was written all over his face, in the way his lips parted just slightly, the way his breath hitched, the way he clung to you as if letting go would shatter him completely.

Sol’s voice came out almost as a whisper, unsure but laced with a tinge of fear. “How—long have you known…?”

You tilted your head, an innocent smile playing on your lips, though your eyes were anything but innocent.

“What…?” you asked, feigning confusion.

Sol’s gaze dropped, his fingers twitching at his sides. “That I was…watching…you.”

You couldn’t hold back the giggle that bubbled up from deep inside you, the sound light but eerie. “Oh, honey… the correct word is ‘stalking.’ But you know, since a few months now… I knew exactly what you were up to. Every little thing. The way you’d slip in and out when you thought I wasn’t paying attention. The food you tried to drug… oh, how cute it was. But, don’t worry. It wasn’t the first time I noticed.”

His expression faltered, surprise crossing his face, but you could sense a mix of pride and discomfort swirling within him.

“How—and you don’t hate me?” His voice trembled slightly, cracking for the first time.

You leaned in closer, almost toying with him, your voice gentle as you whispered, “No. Not at all.”

Sol’s eyes widened in disbelief, his lips parting as if to say something but then stopping himself. His brows furrowed. “What? I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you hate me?” He asked again, but this time, there was more clarity, more strength in his tone than before.

You smirked, tilting your head to the side, as if you were finally offering him the answer he so desperately wanted. “I don’t have a ‘choice,’ Sol.”

A flicker of confusion danced across his face as his grip tightened slightly around you, as though searching for more answers in your gaze. “What?”

You paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. A soft, almost eerie smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “It’s just that I didn’t have any other choice but to love you.”

His expression faltered, and for the briefest of moments, you saw something almost human—something fragile—cross his face. A flush crept up his cheeks, though his eyes remained sharp, guarded.

“You basically own me now, Sol,” you said quietly, your voice unshaken. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride in the way the words fell from your lips. You weren’t afraid. You were comfortable in this.

And then, softly, hesitantly, he finally spoke. His voice was fragile, almost trembling, as if the question itself might break him. “Do you… love me?”

The room fell into a suffocating silence. His words hung in the air, heavy and vulnerable, cutting through your spiraling emotions like a knife. For a moment, you were stunned into silence, your grip loosening slightly on his shirt.

That’s what he was worried about? After everything—after the stalking, the stealing, the obsession—that’s what he cared about? Your mind raced, trying to process the absurdity of it all.

But as you stared at him, at the raw, unguarded emotion in his eyes, something shifted. All the anger, all the chaos inside you seemed to pause, replaced by a single, undeniable truth.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you answered, your own vulnerability slipping through. “Sol…” Your hands trembled against his chest. “Of course I love you.” Your voice cracked on the last word, tears slipping down your cheeks. “How could I not? You’ve consumed me. You’re all I ever think about. All I ever want. All I ever need.”

His lips quivered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he searched your face for any hint of deceit. But there was none. Just raw, terrifying honesty.

“I love you,” you repeated, louder this time, your voice breaking as you clung to him. “And I hate it, Sol. I hate how much I love you. I hate what it’s turned me into. But I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.”

His arms wrapped around you suddenly, pulling you against him with a force that stole your breath. His body trembled as he buried his face in your shoulder, his voice muffled and shaky. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “So long…”

You didn’t need to say anything more. Just the way you looked at him spoke volumes. There was a darkness to your smile, a chilling calmness that matched his own twisted nature. You leaned in slightly, your voice low and almost pleading, but still with an air of authority, “Don’t ever leave me, Sol.”

His breath hitched. He froze for a moment, his hand instinctively reaching for his head, his fingers gripping it tightly, as though he could escape the weight of the words you just laid upon him.

“That won’t happen,” he murmured, voice thick with a promise that both scared and thrilled you.

Before you could respond, before you could even process what was happening, Sol closed the distance between you, his hand coming to the back of your head. He pulled you in closer, his lips crashing against yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

There was no gentleness in it, only a raw, desperate need—a desire to consume, to possess, to claim. His kiss was demanding, as though he couldn’t wait any longer to have you all to himself. It was everything you wanted, everything you needed.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room, but neither of you seemed ready to face it. The silence was comfortable, the weight of your shared night still lingering in the air. Sol’s steady breathing against you was soothing, and it made it hard to even think about moving. His arms were wrapped tightly around you, as if he feared you’d vanish if he let go.

You lay there, with your head resting on his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart. Everything felt so surreal. After everything—the madness, the obsession, the twisted love—you were here. Together. And for a brief, beautiful moment, you couldn’t find a single reason to pull away.

Sol shifted slightly, his voice a soft whisper in the stillness of the room. "Is this… is this the first time I’ve slept well in a while?”

You paused, taking in his words, unsure how to respond. He had told you things, bits and pieces of his own brokenness, but this was different. This was the side of Sol that you never really expected to see—the one that wasn’t in control, the one who needed something, someone.

“Yeah,” he murmured, almost to himself. “After everything… with you, it feels… different.”

The quiet lingered between you, but neither of you rushed to fill it with words. The kiss, the emotions that came with it, and the truth that had been laid bare—none of it was easy to digest. But somehow, it felt right. Neither of you had to say much. The bond was there, thickening around you like an unspoken promise.

For once, Sol wasn’t the one in control. For once, he just wanted to stay there with you.

You lightly brushed a strand of hair from his face, gazing down at him, trying to make sense of the situation. It was strange, how the person who had been stalking you, watching your every move, could now look so… innocent. After everything you’d gone through together, after the craziness of the past few days, here he was, holding you like you were the one thing that could keep him grounded.

Your fingers brushed his cheek gently, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, Sol,” you whispered, “the soul you are…”

Sol didn’t respond immediately, his arms tightening slightly around you, pulling you in closer. He wasn’t saying anything, but his presence spoke volumes. His usual intensity had faded, replaced by a softness, like he was content. Almost like he was at peace for the first time in a long time.

It was funny. You’d expected so much resistance, so much chaos between the two of you. But instead, Sol had become… almost like a puppy. Gentle, needy, and completely devoted now that you’d given him what he wanted—a relationship. The storm inside him had quieted, and now he just wanted you. All of you.

He nuzzled his face against your neck, letting out a small, contented sigh.

The morning light streamed through the window, but neither of you seemed eager to face the reality outside. You could feel Sol’s arms tightening around you, his grip almost possessive, like he didn’t want to let you go—not now, not ever. His presence was soothing yet consuming, and despite everything, you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away. He simply held you, content and silent.

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of your thoughts press down on you. “Sol,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper, “We have school today.”

But even as you said it, you didn’t move. Sol didn’t either. His gaze shifted to you, his eyes filled with an intensity that you had come to recognize all too well. Then, that damned smile of his—bright and blinding like the sun—spread across his face. He closed his eyes again, nuzzling his head into your neck, as if the world outside didn’t matter.

You smiled in return, that same small, knowing smile, as you closed your eyes. Skipping a day doesn’t matter, you thought, feeling your heartbeat steady as you lay there with him, cocooned in the quiet warmth of the moment.

You didn’t know what was happening. You didn’t know if it was the obsession, or just the way Sol had slowly wormed his way into your heart. Part of you wondered if you were truly in love with him, with his darkness, or if you had fallen for something else—his childlike, innocent need for you, perhaps. But one thing was certain. You were in love with something dark.

Something inside you whispered that it didn’t matter what it was, as long as you had him. You felt yourself sinking deeper into him, losing track of what was real and what was just a product of your twisted desires.

The day could wait. Everything could wait. You were here, with him, ad that’s!

……………………

………………………………………..

……………………………………………………………………

Your thoughts twisted in a way you hadn’t fully expected. Sol’s warm body pressed against yours was all you could focus on, as his steady breathing filled the space between you. His presence was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but wonder how far you’d fallen into this spiral.

Is this what love feels like?

You couldn’t stop the question from swirling in your mind, but you weren’t sure if it was love anymore. Not the kind they talked about in fairy tales, not the kind people dreamt of. This felt different—darker, somehow. The way he clung to you, the way he needed you, it was suffocating yet strangely comforting.

It’s like I’m his obsession, his world, and I can’t escape it. But I don’t want to.

His grip on you, though tender, felt possessive—like he was marking his territory. Your heart fluttered, but not from nervousness. There was something wrong with the way you craved his touch, the way you wanted him to tighten his hold on you.

You tried to brush the thought away, but it lingered like a haunting whisper in the back of your mind. What if this is all I’ve ever wanted? To be owned, to be the center of his world?

You looked down at him, the boy who had slowly seeped into your life, becoming the very air you breathed. His face, soft and serene in sleep, looked almost innocent. But you knew better. He wasn’t innocent. Not with that smile. Not with that darkness lurking in his eyes whenever he was awake.

Do I want to be the one to tame him? The thought came unbidden, a dangerous curiosity taking root. But you weren’t scared. No, you were… enthralled.

He stirred slightly, his breath tickling your neck as his lips brushed against your skin. You felt that familiar thrill course through you, the dark and twisted desire that you couldn’t stop. You wanted to taste his madness, wanted to pull him deeper into the abyss with you. You both were tangled in this web of obsession, and it felt like the only thing that made sense.

God, what is wrong with me?

The question was fleeting, a mere afterthought to the way your heart sped up when he pulled you closer. You didn’t care anymore.

You’re mine, Sol. I’m yours. Forever. The thought was clear, possessive, and there was no escape from it. You smiled to yourself, knowing deep down that you were just as tangled in this as he was.

And that was exactly how you wanted it.

Thank you for everyone who read this series, TBH the ending is rushed. I wasn’t able to write it much any longer I wanted to end it. I’m sorry if the ‘ending’ is bad. I was just pointing out two things Reader only started to love the side of his true self than himself. It has to be messed up. I hope i didn’t ruin anyone’s day with it. I wanna thank to everyone who supported me it was really fun to write…I guess it’s time to wrap up! Please send comments I like reading them and replying I’m so sorry Comments make me happy.

A important note too, Please tell me a review of this fic if you can! It has to be truth! I don’t mind some tips I WANT THEM. It’s also okay if you didn’t like it. That’s exactly why I did what I did. If you cringed even one time, Just know that it was a trap by me.

[criminallyvenomous]

Anytime, Always - Spencer Reid X Reader (part two)

part one

• Plot - When Dr. Reid came to speak at your University, you were thrilled. A big-time F.B.I. agent at your own school, how could you resist? Soon, that wasn’t the only thing you couldn’t resist. Random meet ups and nights together were fun at first, but when he started guest lecturing on a regular? That was a whole new experience.

• Ship - Spencer Reid X Reader

• Fandom - Criminal Minds

• Warnings - Age gap (legal consenting adults), Alcohol, Fluff, Eventual smut, Pining, and of course a warning you might fall for Spence even harder post reading)

• Word Count - 1,223

• A/N - thank u all for the love! i have a good amount of this fic written so ill be posting the chapters rather fast but once it catches up itll prob be a tad slower lol.

~

God, what had he done? He was ashamed of himself, but satisfied at the same time. You were checking your phone whilst laying on your side, naked.

“Hey, my flight got delayed until tomorrow, any chance you’re free? - Spencer”

You couldn’t believe he had actually messaged you. You had just met yesterday and the thought of his brown eyes meeting yours had been coming back and back again into your mind throughout all of your classes today. You re-read the text before responding.

“I just got out of class, sure. What’re you thinking?” You replied as you started your walk back to your apartment.

“My hotel’s got this really nice Italian café and bar. Maybe we can go over a case you’re interested in, or a book even.”

“That sounds great! I’m sure you’re tired of case talk after yesterday, let’s do literature.” You knew he liked to read and so did you, that is whenever you actually had the chance to.

“Pick an author.”

“Mmm, I love Oscar Wilde. How familiar are you with the king of irony?”

“Incredibly. Picture of Dorian Gray?”

“Too basic, how about The Importance of Being Earnest?”

“Great choice, can’t wait.”

You took a lyft to the hotel, not too far from your place as it was on campus too. You stepped into the lobby and recognized the name of the Italian place towards the side, walking towards it.

“Hey, Y/N!” Spencer stood up from his seat at a table for two, calling you over.

“Hey, Dr. Reid. It’s good to see you again.” You said as you sat in the chair opposite to him.

“You too, call me Spencer.” He replied, making you blush.

“So, what’s good here?” You asked, referring to the menu.

“I’ve only tried the whiskey and the espresso, both were very good in my opinion.”

“I think I’ll do a whiskey then.”

“Same here. I’ll go order.” He goes to stand up.

“I’ll join you.”

When the two of you placed your drink orders, Spencer didn’t have any trouble, but the bartender asked you for your I.D. This was only slightly embarrassing, but you felt like such a child compared to him. He noticed your discontent and decides to make a joke as you headed back to the table.

“I miss when I was asked for my I.D., now I feel like an old man.” You chuckled.

“You don’t look a day over twenty-five.” You joked back, him smiling.

The two of you continued to chat as you waited for the drinks. You talked about your major and how he ended up a profiler. By the time you had both finished half of your glasses, you remembered the intended point of conversation.

“So, Oscar Wilde.” You reminded, a little sly.

“Yes, The Importance of Being Earnest. A tale of lies and deception meets romance and comedy. Great choice.” He took another swig of his whiskey. He didn’t drink often, and neither did you.

“It’s my absolute favorite, we read the play in high school and I ended up seeing the production later on.”

The two of you talked about Wilde’s style of comedy and his prospective on humanity. The two of you were also getting quite tipsy.

“Would you want to, maybe, continue this in my room? For more privacy, of course.” He asked and you nodded.

You staggered in after each other into his hotel room laughing, after Spencer’s numerous attempts at getting the key card to work. The room was quaint, but still luxurious. Paid for by your university, of course. You closed the door behind you and he turned.

“Do you want anything?” He gestured to the mini-fridge.

“Would you want to split the mini wine?” You offered, laughing.

“Sure.” He opened the door to the fridge and pulled out the white vino, screw top.

He sat on the edge of the queen bed and you joined him. He passed you the bottle and you took a swig.

“Woah, that is bad.” You grimaced.

“It’s from a hotel mini-fridge, what’d you expect?” He laughs, taking the bottle to sip and making a face of his own.

After scrolling through the free channels on the T.V. until you settled on re-runs of Parks and Recreation and finishing off the mini bottle, the two of you were already laying next to each other on the bed.

“How is it that I’ve never seen this show?” He asked laughing, turning his head to you.

“You don’t seem like the type to watch a bunch of shows to me.” You replied, honestly.

“Oh yeah, and what type am I?” He was basically a sip away from being drunk, as were you.

“I don’t know, you’ll have to show me.” You raised your eyebrows.

He moved himself on top of you and you sat up in response. He gave you a look as if to say ‘Can I?’. You nodded. You expected him to kiss you, and he did, just not on your lips.

“Oh.” You stuttered out as he began to heavily kiss your neck, sucking and biting as he moved his way towards your ear. He began to nibble at your ear lobe and you began to lose your mind.

His phone rang. He ignored it at first, sending the caller to voicemail without looking at his phone. He cupped your face and you leaned forward to kiss him. As the kiss intensified, another call came through and he pulled away.

“I’m sorry, let me see who this is.” He picked up his phone and upon seeing it being his teammate, Derek, he needed to answer.

“I’ll be quick, it just might be a case.” You nodded and he headed to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You took this as a chance to catch your breath and strip off the top that was making you sweat from the heat of the embrace.

“Morgan, what’s going on?” Spencer asked, looking into the bathroom mirror.

“Ouch, no ‘hello’ for me, kid?” Derek faked being offended.

“Sorry, just a little busy right now.” He was out of breath, which was evident, even over the phone.

“You okay?”

“Yup, what’s going on?” He repeated, “Is there a case?”

“There’s a possible serial killer in Montana. We’re leaving at three tomorrow. Will your flight be in by then?” Derek asked.

“Yeah, I get in at one. Is that it?” Spencer was short, trying to get the call over with and continue on with you.

“What’s going on, pretty boy? You sure you’re okay? How’d the lecture go?”

“Fine, it went well. I, uh, I have a guest right now, Derek.” Spencer admitted, already expecting to never hear the end of it.

“Oh? OH. I’ll let you get to it, then. See you tomorrow.”

By the time Spencer was back into the bedroom, something was different. You were basically naked, apart from underwear.

“It got hot in here?” You shrugged and he laughed.

“Sorry about that, I have to go to Montana tomorrow.”

“From D.C.? That’s a lot of flying.” You said, he stripped his shirt off of his body, revealing a fit and slightly tan torso.

“Indeed, I’ll need to be extra relaxed beforehand.” He crawled on top of you, once more.

“I think I can help with that.”

part three story masterlist

[drama-glob]

Okay, I've been seeing some Ozzie hate/criticism for a while now that mainly pertains to "Ozzie's" and "Oops," namely his interactions with Stolas/Stolas and Blitz with three points being brought up the most. I can concede to agree with one of the points, but what I don't like is that there is then no consideration for Ozzie's perspective on the matter in regards to "Ozzie's;" as for the other two points, they just make me want to pinch the bridge of my nose because I feel they are overlooking some very important stuff/factors. >_< So, hopefully I can get my points across on what I saw/heard in these situations and give at least some people pause for thought and if not, well, at least I got it off my chest. :/

First off, the point I concede on is that yes, Ozzie should apologize to Stolas for what happened at Ozzie's.

Stolas did not ask to get spotlighted and made into an example for all of Ozzie's to see, and bringing up Octavia is always going to be a sensitive subject, especially with how the divorce is affecting her.

Now for the perspective taking:

For Ozzie, he is seeing a consenting, adult couple out looking for some lusty, kinky fun; they are at Ozzie's after all. He doesn't know the circumstances that led to Stolas and Blitz winding up here. Ozzie likely even assumes that Stolas brought Blitz here given that he used his status to get into the club without a reservation. How is Ozzie supposed to know that Blitz was the one who brought him as a ploy to spy on Moxxie and Millie (so not a real date) as well as know the problems that are in the Stolitz relationship such as Stolas talking down to Blitz or that Blitz is using him too?

Also, it just irks me how people can come to understand Fizz's attitude towards Blitz in "Ozzie's" now that we know about the fire and believing that he was left for dead by Blitz, but see that it's Ozzie's fault for not knowing everything that's going on in Stolas's life (such as the trouble between him and his daughter arising from the divorce). True, Stolas does not have to tell Ozzie about his trauma/problems and that's completely fair, but then it's not right to go around and criticize Ozzie for not knowing that it's a sensitive subject. Stolas has been hiding so much from Octavia and likely everyone else because of multiple factors, but his main concern being Octavia learning secondhand about the abuse, depression and/or his drinking.

I know Ozzie's saying this about Fizz's trauma and he loves him, but it's clear he respects that he shouldn't tell Stolas about it/setting boundaries for personal information, so had he known though about Stolas's case, I highly doubt he would have made a spectacle of him cheating, especially considering the subject of abuse. Plus, wouldn't you think if Ozzie knew that Stolas had been physically and sexually abused by Stella, he'd be adamant to tear Stella a new one or see that she was punished, especially given his values on consent? >:(

In addition, all Ozzie had to say about Stella was that she's hot, so he likely has hardly ever met her enough to speak ill of her/know what she's really like; Stella's attitude towards imps alone would tick him off. >:( Anyway, Stella is not going to the Goetia meetings where they could have chatted and I doubt if he talked with Stolas, he'd say anything revealing or maybe even just chalk it up to Stolas not being satisfied by Stella. I also highly doubt Ozzie is going to waste his time going to Stella's parties when he has a ring and business to run along with wanting to spend time with Fizz. Plus, he'd likely favor either his own party or one thrown by Bee. ;)

Something to note too is just how happy Ozzie is that Stolas was with Blitz because besides him and Bee, to have a royal publicly display that they find someone of lower class attractive and wants to be lustful with is a big deal; Andrealphus even mentioned there hasn't been a Goetia like Stolas, although I can believe some Goetias doing the act of sleeping with those deemed the lower class in private. -_- Ozzie thinks the hierarchy is bunk or at the very least, you should treat people fairly and not act superior to them. So, by highlighting Stolas and Blitz, in addition to getting the performance back on track, he's showing lust is not bound be class differences and that giving into pleasure should matter more than saying, "Oh it can't work between us because you're an imp and I'm a Sinner" or one's an imp and one's a prince in Stolas and Blitz's case.

Ozzie's line "Now that's the spirit of lust" is also cause to see why he's so happy since he's seeing Stolas trade everything else in his life for the thing he desires most: to be with Blitz, or in the case of seeing the two of them at his club, inferring it was to have sex with Blitz; it certainly was some first class demonstration of lust, that's for sure.

Also:

There's also a decent chance he didn't see Stolas do this since he was back onstage immediately after, but if he had and with how observant he is, he likely would have had some questions for Stolas since Ozzie's isn't the place to be ashamed about what turns you on, so him doing this would have made him wonder what's up. :/ (Of course, now we know that the Stella part didn't matter to him, but that he was doing this at the expense of his daughter's happiness that Stolas felt ashamed and not for being seen with Blitz, but this moment still unfortunately sent us to the place we are now along with a slew of other problems contributing to it :/ ).

*Also, to nip it in the bud, it was Fizz and Verosika really doing all the Blitz bashing, not Ozzie, with him mainly just letting Fizz vent all his anger since as he put it to Blitz, "You've lived rent-free in Fizz's head for years," so this was supportive BF/husband stuff in hopes that it might help him heal since it seems Fizz and Blitz haven't had contact in those 15years to talk/work it out.

So long story short/just to recap, while Ozzie didn't do what happened at Ozzie's with malice and the fact that intentions do matter, he still did it and the damage was done, which is why I concede to him needing to apologize; until he knows everything though, he likely won't, so please don't see it as a flaw of his character that he hasn't until such time. :/

On to point two: I've been seeing it be said ever since "Oops" came out that Ozzie doesn't actually believe in helping Stolas and Blitz and only did it because Fizz told him he could. -_- Okay, well:

Ozzie is saying right here that he sympathizes with Stolas and why wouldn't he?! He flipping knows exactly what it's like to be in love with someone deeply and wanting to give them something that makes them happy! Yes, the reason he didn't give Stolas the crystal right then and there was because of Fizz, but that's because doing so would be an act of betrayal to Fizz, not that he doesn't see Stolas's side in this or understand why he wants this. Until the end of the episode, Fizz had hated Blitz and had clearly been verbal about it in the ~10yrs Ozzie and him have known each other, so going behind his back to help someone Fizz sees as his enemy is certainly grounds for relationship trouble and they'd lose so much of the trust that we see Fizz and Ozzie have. :(

The last thing that I've been seeing is people saying that Ozzie finds Stolas annoying or that Ozzie may even hate him because they heard him groan during this statement:

For me though, Ozzie groaned the whole sentence and not just Stolas's name, so it was not singling him out or if anything had a sighing aspect to it because it had been a long day, but more importantly, Ozzie's time with Stolas was mostly a flipping 12HR HOSTAGE NEGOTIATION!!!

That is not going to be a fun time no matter who Ozzie was with, okay?!

*I've also seen a comment about it being Stolas is a nerd compared to him when it's like, "Hello! Ozzie is a nerd too! He's literally a mechanical engineer who designs complicated robotic parts and sex toys! That takes a lot of math and physics!" Plus, I could see that being a point of interest for Stolas and Ozzie since calculating orbits, stars, eclipses, prophecies, etc. uses math and physics as well as Stolas would likely be fascinated with Ozzie's crystals.

The other thing people seem to forget is that Ozzie was also stuck with this guy:

The sleazy, asshole lawyer with a power kink, who sat in Ozzie's chair, talked down to him, pulled that move with the first contract so that they really had no choice but to thoroughly vet the bigger one with a fine-tooth comb, and kept delaying everything until the deadline literally came! >:(

Also, for people thinking about Ozzie being happy that he said no to giving Stolas his crystal:

This was him trying to cheer Fizz up, to let him know that although the day was undeniably terrible, Ozzie still respected his partner's wishes and knew that he wouldn't have wanted Blitz to have one of his crystals. Ozzie was even partially laughing while he said it in a "Oh, you're just going to love what happened babe!" or "You are not going to believe this Fizz!" kind of way in that maybe they could laugh about it sounding ridiculous for Blitz to have a crystal with how much Fizz hated him up to that point.

I know people may still think or feel how they want without budging by the end of this, but this is just what's been on my mind and I wanted to give my two cents on it. Also, part of the reason this is so long too is because I already analyzed the "Ozzie's" stuff for a fan fiction I wrote about it a year ago where Ozzie realizes he made some assumptions that night and was wrong. :/ Anyway, thanks for reading this giant thing. <3<3<3

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel 11

Chapter 11: fevered Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: dubious consent, arthur’s mental health is kind of not so good…VERY low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry. suggestive themes. Huge HUGe Voyeurism bit, arthur being a perv 🤨👀 huge weirdo energy LMAO small mention of wanting death, WC: 7780 Hello snow angels : ) here is chapter 11!!! this chapter will be from arthurs perspective so very exciting 😳 i had a ton of fun just getting nasty with him and writing his fucked up little thoughts 😈 arthur inner monologue was a bit weird at first but im sure ill get better at it by actually attempting to do it LMAO i hope you guys enjoy and pls let me know what you think!!! i wanna thank everyone who has left replies and asks about this series, all of you have been so supportive and amazing, couldnt do it without you guys 🥹🥹💖💖💖 also this ended up way too long so sorry Tags: lots of angst todayyy, no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur being a menace.Arthur being rude as always just… low honor arthur as a warning lol - What does it matter if the man who saved your life is a little strange?

It must be dusk falling too soon. Slow deprivation of heat and light; does things to his head, as if that wasn’t half screwed off already. Arthur’s fingers clutch the dusty curtain in front of one of two main windows at the front of his cabin; his eyes swear they can see…something out in the treeline. At first he thought of Pinkertons; to collect that bounty they were on about. Why they would follow him to the ends of the earth for that would be beyond him but Arthur had been known to do stupid things for a big payout. And of course, he hadn’t lived this long without a healthy amount of paranoia. Or what he called caution. Or perhaps Charles should have left his ass at the nearest asylum.

But he can sense that he’s wrong when nothing comes of it. No gunshots, no desperate shoot out for his life. Just the quiet again. In a minute, he’ll look out the window and watch the figure disappear. And he’ll shake his head, rub his calloused fingers over his tired eyes. He drops the curtain, pouring another cup of coffee at the silver percolator in the kitchen. He is not losing his grip; he isn’t. He’d leave that to Dutch. 

It’s gotten worse with the winter; those strange things he sees from time to time. They make him feel more out of place than he already does. As if there’s something wrong with him, wrong with this moment. The frost grows over the windows like mold.

The summer sun kept the darkness from slipping in and leaking into his vision. But that’s long gone, been gone for a month. Shit weather up here, long dragging winters. Summers that were too short for his liking and an autumn that was beautiful but also short lived. The winter is too heavy now to do much of anything but loop out to the stable and back. Not much sightseeing to do, the same shock white landscape to see everyday. 

In spite of how beautiful the mountain is; with its sprawling forest, creeks like liquid glass, the fresh winter air… Arthur finds it arduous to see it. Closing himself inside his cabin is easier. He could go and hunt something, draw the scenery. But was that any better than the fireplace? The comfort and simultaneous unease of staying inside the confines of his new home drag him in opposite directions. And even if his paranoid visions are just residue from another time in his life; he knows there are people who could be still searching, who might remember his face. Bad things had a way of following Arthur wherever he went. 

Even more loathsome is the lack of sunlight. The sun disappears around 4 or 5 and it feels like it was midnight by 6. The windows of his wooden cabin blacken like soot, leaving him tired and groggy. 

Arthur tries to keep himself going with bitterness like always. Coffee, cigarettes, and alcohol. He thinks the lack of light plays with his head. It’s easy to mistake shadows for ghosts, trusting himself was hard as it was. 

Damn snow, cuts to the bone.

The stunning silence surprises him still at these odd moments in the day. Arthur thought that maybe the peace would do him some good. But there was a need that scratched incessantly at the front of his skull. Over and over and over. 

He spent a long time being needed by other people. Dutch made him feel needed at the very least. Like he was part of something that symbolized how free a man could be. And he had devoted every shred of himself to the vision that Dutch had for the world. It was all that mattered to Arthur. His fealty was really all he had to give and so he gave it. 

God, had he felt the fool on the last day he saw him, when Dutch walked away, as if everything Arthur had ever done was nothing to him. Twenty goddamn years of his life. If he was being honest, he knew that his loyalty was wasted before that day but he had waited to see if the man he knew would emerge. If he could kill that gutless rat and show Dutch the truth but he refused, leaving Arthur with nothing to show for it. Helping John, Abigail and Jack to safety was barely a comfort when he thought of all that he wasted. All he did was hand another man a chance at the life that he wanted. 

But it was too late. As always with Arthur. (Everything was always too little; too late) Providing for others was embedded deeply in his being. It was something he had done for years, especially when he decided to get his shit together. He might have dallied, thoroughly enjoying his youth. But he learned (through several extremely painful lessons) why it was important that he pick up the slack. Loyalty isn’t represented by inaction. He hadn’t been all too kind to people but he had kept his comfort that in some part, his work was what kept that camp running. And when that fell apart; he really did try to help the less fortunate.

Really, he was making up for his failures to the people he cared about most. Arthur questioned if he had cared enough. If he did, maybe things would have ended differently between him and the people he harmed by being selfish.

Maybe Dutch put some modicum of power in his hands and Arthur had wielded it badly, went around acting like the cesspool he felt like most of the time. But at the end of the day, the camp ate because of him, they had medicine because of him, hell, they even drank because it was him that brought back more money than anyone else. 

There is no one who needs him now. Arthur scrubs his hand over his face then down to rub over his shoulders. Leans his head back. At first it was nice. The independence. No more debt collecting for Strauss, no more worrying if there’s enough food for Pearson, no more looking out for O’Driscolls. He thought he would like only having one person to worry about; he had been lying to himself. Although he still had other things missing from him. They’re like phantom limbs. He can feel where they were supposed to be but when he looks down they’re gone. Hosea’s guidance was missing from him. Even if he was terrible at following it. The sound of the girl’s giggling and gossiping. Even Uncle and Swanson ambling around, drunker than he thought was possible. Dutch looming, watching through his haze of maduro sweetened smoke. He keeps looking down but they’re gone.  

The fire crackles and the wind howls; picks up the silence. Sometimes the wind from the flue sounds like the breeze over Flat Iron Lake. The fire doesn’t sound any different than it did when it crackled warmly around a circle of a mismatched band of criminals singing songs together, alongside the chatter and the drunken crooning. When it was the background noise to thick Irish blabbering. The poor kid. He was going places, as most of the younger ones were, he and Lenny would have run that gang when they got past their growing pains. He could have told them that when they were living, that sentiment would have meant something then. 

It’s been a year or two, the days sort of connect like train cars and chug along, not because he wants them to but because that’s how life goes. It’s an endless drag, an endless struggle. He can’t see how this is much better than being dead. Arthur Morgan is one of the few people who knows how precious life can be, he spent a lifetime taking it away from people as he pleased. 

He tries to savor this peace (as if he knows how to). Tries to remember what it was like, not having any time to himself, always at Dutch’s beck and call. Barely any time to take a piss, let alone really rest, really give himself room to be anything but what others wanted. How he loathes those memories. The years he spent dedicating himself to another man's dreams. Watched all those years slip away, ashes in a smoke stack, rising forever upwards until they’re forgotten. 

Arthur refuses to recall how many things he gave up for that life; down to the simple pleasures. Love, privacy, a family. He convinced himself that anything else wasn’t living, that he couldn’t ever be tied down. That old life was just… what he had. There was nowhere else to go and when he was old enough to go his own way, there were kids like him with nothing left; nothing to return to, no one to look after them. He might not have been anyone to look up to. Maybe he was a shining example of what not to be. It was Arthur who was there to keep people in line, to show them how to be killers for Dutch’s aspirations. He’s sure he ruined lives more than he taught them anything useful.

Nothing about that life was rooted in anything real, substantial to the world. Pipe dreams. Vague imaginings of living free in the west or some such tropical paradise. What a waste. Just the thought of a secluded island with palm trees on it summons a bitter laugh. 

He sits and watches the fire. Tries to ignore the shadow in the corner. It's thin and wavering. Today, it looks a bit too much like Hosea for his taste. Especially when the log on the hearth cracks, it sounds like that ominous cough that followed the graying conniver everywhere he went. 

Arthur lights another cigarette. He’s been making (quite frankly, just awful) attempts at rationing and this is his allotted second cigarette of the day. He’s two for five. He curses himself every time he forgets to take the drags and it crumbles to ash too quickly, landing on the rug beneath his boots. He hisses, a singe on his fingers snaps him back to the present moment. It burns his fingers when he forgets that he’s holding one entirely, too busy drilling holes in the walls with his eyes. He can’t stand it but he doesn’t have another choice. The silence has the mysterious property of making Arthur lose track of himself. He should have listened but he never learns. 

This deep into winter, not too far from the base of Mt. Pàtu, he can’t just head out on the road and get more cigarettes. The nearest town is a six or seven hour ride and that isn’t happening, not in this weather. He might take Currant out for a light trot so he can get some exercise but he can tell something big is coming soon. The bellows of air from the west have him readying for storm weather. Best to get a move on now if he were to be going out. 

It’s dinner now. He’s not sure where the time went but he doesn’t mind too much. He’s got coffee and he’s got hot food. Salt pork with potatoes, boiled in the salt water from soaking the corns of salt off the meat. He’s gotten better at cooking at least. Arthur scoffs at the thought of the slop he used to be eating. He takes a glass out and sets it on the counter, along with his fifth bottle of Kentucky bourbon. He’s allowed 6 bottles a month. By anyone else’s standards it might be a lot but where he spent most of his time; around other drunkards and degenerates, it’s not enough. 

The storm hits full force now, there’s gonna be snow all the way up to the porch by tomorrow morning. But the air inside of his cabin is still and smoky. From the window, he checks the stable to see if the doors stay closed. It’s well insulated so Currant should be fine. The storm will have scared most of the game into hiding away, he contemplates when he’ll head back out for hunting. He takes a seat at his plain dining table, spends a while on the same glass of bourbon. The smell of cedar and salt is nice.  So is the warmth of his cabin but it’s all lost to him. His sense for how fortunate he is to be here and not dead in a ditch is dull. Only he could be the man to crave chaos and blood and the sound of gunshots while sitting on his ass all day, sipping bourbon. 

He thinks he’ll read a boring book or pretend to keep busy by stoking the fire. Arthur listens to the silence, waiting to hear something but the crackling and the draft from a small crack in the wall. But there’s nothing. He should have listened to Charles. But he insisted that he would be fine. He can’t go back on that now, he’s always been fine by himself. He’ll just wear the groove into his leather chair even further like the sorry bastard he is, trying to ignore how small and stiflingly warm the room feels.  

The blizzard gets louder and louder. Dozing off on the sofa or in his chair sounds like as good a time as any. But he isn’t exhausted, just annoyingly groggy. Bouncing his knee does not count as activity. Neither does all the fidgeting he does, twitching his fingers, putting his legs up and bringing them back down. He tries to pace a little but wearing treads on the floorboards isn’t doing any good either. He puts his hands on his hips. 

 He grabs his journal but he doesn’t have much to write. What would he write about? Surely, the exciting things he experiences everyday. Waking up feeling like hot shit on a platter after having too much whiskey was not the kind of thing worth memorializing in his journal anymore. He’s a little past the shame now too, the embarrassment. He lets his fingers feel the blank page, the tooth of the paper. 

He lets his hand form images of spring, the point of his pencil worn into a dull tip, recollected as best as possible. It’s nothing but a pale comparison. 

There’s a pat on the door. It’s soft and weak. And just as softly, there’s a voice pleading for help, asking if anyone is inside. A light shining in through the cracks of his world. 

He pushes himself up. He knows he hasn’t had that much to drink tonight. The worst possible outcomes play in his head. A ruse from bounty hunters, a local gang taking advantage (not a whole lot better than he would have done only 3 years ago), or another ghost from his past (the ones that play at the corner of his eye). His chest gets a little tight but he’s been good at keeping unease from holding him back. Arthur shakes his hand out, placing the book on the mantle of the fireplace.

“Who’s out there?” It’s an oddity. To hear another voice. One that isn’t his own. It’s a beautiful noise, a pleasing beckon. But he’s no fool. He doesn’t even particularly want to be here, why would anyone be here if they didn’t have to be? He grabs his revolver from the small table next to the entrance, one of the only loaded guns in the house. “Please, sir, I promise it’s just me,” and the earnestness in that voice, he has to believe that promise is true. He has to open the door. With a deep sigh, he stuffs the gun away after a second thought. 

The figure is much too bundled up to gather any immediate details. She’s not very much, standing there out in the cold icy fluff. It isn’t until he nods his head to direct her does she realize she should probably come in. He peeks out at the tracks, just one long line of horse tracks in the process of getting blown over by the harsh wind and the lashing ice. Her struggle up to the porch marked in snow. Arthur scans the tree line for any of those dark silhouettes but they’ve blown away in the wind, they’re pushed from his mind when he turns back and closes the door shut behind the both of them. 

He turns to her, he doesn’t mind the way she shrinks away from his body, skittish and slight. Such a small girl, alone in a snowstorm. He can’t think of a single good reason why she would be going it alone and what she could possibly need more than a night in. She should be warming her hands next to a fire. He could do it for her, could gather them and breathe on them. He tosses that behind him like an empty tin can. He has other things to focus on, mostly trying to get a better look at her and prying an answer out of her as to why she’s out here like this. 

He’s more rude than he intended to be but a little rudeness is nothing new to him. “What the hell were you doin’ out there?” He has been described as coarse. Intentionally and unintentionally. He’s a little bit like a puffed up rooster when he catches her looking him over, marveling at the size of him. But he lets that fall away, surely she needed no old man assuming things on her part. He knows he ain’t much to look at. At his gruff tone, she has no response. The poor thing is so cold, her teeth chatter, whatever she mustered up to yell at him over the storm has run out. Arthur feels a little of his hard veneer chip away. 

He thinks to take her coat, covered in frost and not nearly as insulated as he had hoped, it’s damp with melting ice now that she’s inside. But he feels like he’s dreaming again, peeling her coat off and hanging it on the rack, a faux gentleman. He doesn't know why he’s trying to impress but there’s a chance that she’d like a man like that. So he plays, pretends. He’s surely done that before.

When her coat is shed, all of those visions he’s been having must have caught up to him. 

Jesus, Morgan. You’ve really lost it now. 

This disease of loneliness he’s been given has surely destroyed the vestiges of his sanity. He must be imagining some young soft handed girl with warm bright eyes and vibrant, shiny hair. Face of an angel, looking hopeful; grateful. Her eyes on him burn like hellfire. He feels strange, watching much too close at how her tongue wets her lips; chapped from the cold. Beautiful; she must be someone’s girl, he hopes for a widow who had lost her husband to the winter frost. He’d gladly pick up where the fucker left off. Pry her from his cold hands. Could just be the loneliness talking. He can’t bring himself to care all that much about it. 

Arthur can feel shame eating away at him, like ants at the corners of a scrap fallen off the table. He could have found himself sick to his stomach not too short a time ago. A girl as young as her and he, an old dog with even older tricks have no business together. He knows it too. But he was done with that crushing feeling of dread that ate away at his very soul some days. He had enough of his life to feel awful about. Blood on the floorboards, forgotten promises, disregarded words of affection. Just these moments, where he can hoard the vision that is this girl to himself after so long of giving pieces of himself away. 

What has that shame ever done but made you worse? 

If there isn’t the will to keep his eyes off the girl then there’s the give in him. Like a levy, it cracks a little, breaks into a million pieces of splintered wood for her. It’s been too long since he’s seen something so pretty. All flesh and blood. No graphite on paper; recollections of the women from his past, no Gem of Beauty cigarette card. She carries the smell of soap and perfumed cotton. He thinks it's geranium scented or another delicate flower crushed to pieces to make her smell like she came from heaven too. It’s a weakness he hadn’t culled. 

This girl of his; she must be something quite real. His wishful daydream would have diverted to more intimate topics by now, and he’d probably imagine a woman he’s at least met before. Deciding if he’d prefer her to be real or a misty figment of his imagination; he can’t make heads nor tails of it. Arthur knows he’d probably end up disappointing a real person more than he could offend a figure cooked up in his mind. He sighs. He turns to the iron stove beside the dining table. There’s still coffee and he can distract himself from his ridiculous train of thought by clumsily pouring it out for her. 

Hopeful bastard.

“You mute, girl? Asked you a question.” He knows she isn't but he wants to hear her talk some more. And maybe if she hears what a brute he makes himself out to be most of the time, she’ll turn her nose up at him the way she’s supposed to. Lots of women have, she wouldn’t be the first warned away by his attitude like a bad smell. He could almost let that temptation win. To change who he is at this moment. If only for the selfish purpose of luring her further into his home. However, he’s too impulsive and his tongue is too practiced at offending. He has words that are about as gentle as a fist to the nose. 

He sets her cup down on the table. Arthur doesn’t wait for her to figure herself out, grabbing another cigarette, swiping them off of the coffee table in front of the fireplace. To hell with the rations. It was a special day after all, a goddamned holiday. He strikes the match on the table, lighting it as she tentatively steps forward. Nearly singes his finger on the match he forgot to put out, wincing and waving it out to put out the flame. 

She’s a pearl, surrounded by the ugly oyster that is the less than stellar home he keeps. Carefully, she steps into his space. Suddenly, he’s hyper aware of every thing she could find awful or garish; his hunting trophies or the weapons or the wall. Or the mess of papers on the desk in the corner. It has him gripping his cigarette a bit too tight. Her face hardly moves in any particular reaction, as if used to him already. A simple neutrality is what takes her as she looks at some of the things over the mantle, then her eyes track over the small hallway, leading to the bedroom and some storage. She’s quick to bring her attention back to him, a soft smile that stuns him graces her face, kicking up some long buried hope of his.

 If there was a woman who should be a lady, it’s her. She sets herself down on the sofa, neatly keeping her hands to herself, reaching for the cup he set out for her. But first checking to see if it wasn’t for him with a nervous flick of her eyes up to his own. He can hardly ignore how it pulls at him. She holds the blue speckled cup on her thigh. 

“No, I…was getting something for my granny…” She explains she couldn’t make it to the doctor in the almost fatal weather outside. He has a humorless laugh. How could anyone send her out for the sake of some old hag; already knocking on death's door? Selfless girl but stupid. Defenseless. Her own mother, too. He supposes he can relate. The man he regarded as his father had been the one to let him down the most.

 It’s always the ones you trust. 

He makes his opinion known to her, maybe he can talk some sense into her. 

“I can imagine. What kinda mother sends a pretty thing like you on a fool's errand? You really thought you was gonna bring your ol’ granny a doctor in this?” He reprimands her, she might need it. 

Little girl gone out by herself. Needs you, don’t she?

What she probably needs is someone to keep her from doing things that risk her life for nothing at all. Doesn’t have to be him but he won’t turn the thought away. Breaking her open on her marriage bed. Such a pretty thing, a distracted smile into her cup of coffee. Lost in a snow drift because no one cared enough to keep her inside. 

And she does nip back. Trying to give a rebuttal but he won’t have it. He knows he’s right, giving his idea of a light hearted joke, his particular brand of poking humor. Heavy handed as always. 

“Your granny probably already kicked the bucket while you were out here, damn near gettin’ yourself killed.” 

 Perhaps insinuating her grandmother was already dead wasn’t the best attempt at familiarizing her with himself, her face tinges with an expression he’s used to seeing. Dutch said he had a sharper tongue than people thought. Hosea said it was too blunt. 

“And if it weren’t for me, well…” she’d be dead. Forgotten somewhere in the snow with a dead horse for company. Such an image should hopefully be sobering for her. It’s a harsh reality but one he would prevent from happening.  His hand comes up to scratch at his brambly jaw. She probably thought his slightly overgrown beard was ugly and unkempt. His fingers raise the delicate rolled cigarette to his lips. A nice calming drag helps his nerves calm down, they quit jumping under his skin every time her eyes pull over him, over his scarred face and his crooked nose and his gnarled hands. She looks like she holds something back. Her tongue, he thinks. He wished she would have just come out and said it. 

But she’s a polite little thing, stifling herself with another drink of the coffee. The satisfaction on her face and the small droop in her shoulders now that she’s warm makes him smile. 

She speaks up with a tremor stuck to her words. “I’m sorry mister,” her nose scrunches a little, doesn’t even know how darling he finds it. “but I don’t think you gave me your name…” 

In a well practiced motion, he leans and ashes his cigarette. It took him a while to remember that he can’t just ash them on the ground anymore. He had floors and a permanent roof now. He tends to get the hang of things at some point. He kicks his legs up on the table, gently so as to not frighten the girl on his sofa, warming herself by his fire, and drinking his coffee. The thoughts tickle that provider’s instinct so deeply embedded in his being. His name, he almost forgets all about that, looking into her pretty eyes, blinking curiously. Right. 

“Arthur. You married?” He never liked small talk too much. Never one for the surface level bullshit people put on. He watches each of her features form into something like a smile but not. Too nerve-y, falls into something else when she presses her lips together, her brows twitch as they pull together and her fingers scrunch in her gloves. 

As if she’d marry you, ain’t exactly the pick of the litter, are ya?

His fingers twitch, squeeze his short nails into the give of his palm. Then why does she call him? So enticing, then, looking at him with soft eyes, her legs pressed together and slanted. A real proper girl. Cute thing. Naive enough not to recognize someone like him at first glance. He’s something to be avoided. He wishes he could see a ring glittering on her finger, to ward away the seething heat in his head and his gut. Like a prayer muttered in the presence of evil but he doubted it’d be strong enough. 

“No, I’m afraid not,” her voice is like velvet, the rub of a rose petal between his fingers. Her eyes flick away and her teeth press gently into her bottom lip, sweet looking. No man to look after her besides her worthless father, left her out here to freeze. Alone, really. Or she might as well be. The world has been known to be cruel to women. To his mother, to a woman whose life he had ruined, to Mary even, to Susan and Molly. Well, most every woman he knew. It wasn’t fair but many things in their lives were disparagingly slanted away from them, scales always uneven. 

“Young lady like you, unwed and caring for your Ma, Pa, all by yourself?” Arthur scoffs, even as he points out her tragedy. “Now that’s just sad, is what it is,” His fingers push his cigarette into the ash tray a bit too hard, twisting it. And he looks at her blouse, drawing the outline of her with his eyes. He’d put it to paper later. She has a small nod for him. A shining opportunity. But he has to introduce his own dingy reality. The one where he was probably old enough to have been able to hold her when she had just been born. 

“You are… a sight, for an old ugly bastard like me is all,” Honest words slip from him, too loose for him to keep them behind his teeth. The bashful look crosses over her face makes his lip curl up just a little. She deserved to have someone tell her how pretty she is, who wouldn’t ever let her forget for a second how lovely she looked. Where all of these sappy things come from is beyond him. They ooze into his mind anyway.

Delicately, she sets the cup down on the table littered with other cups he had forgotten to put away and empty packages of cigarettes. He rolls his eyes at himself, of course he doesn’t clean up the day he has company.

“I left my horse in the stable out front, I hope you don’t mind,” her hands pet at her thighs, he can see where the fabric is damp. Immediately, his mind clicks into place, thinking on how he can fix it. That’s what the fairer sex truly craved, wasn’t it? Not some puffed up egomaniac. A fixer. A solution. His hands itch to move. To pick up the pieces of her problems and push them back into the shape of something whole. “Ain’t no trouble,” the relieved sag in her shoulders tells him that she actually worried about it. 

So Arthur does, he’s nothing if not a man of action. “Why don’t I get you somethin’ dry to wear? Should be turnin’ in soon. Gettin’ late.” He’s up before he can hear a protest. But she doesn’t give much of one. In his bedroom, his hands swipe his hair backwards. The small mirror he usually keeps around strictly for shaving catches the light of the small oil lamp. 

God, his best years are way behind him. So say the lines at the corners of his eyes, the gouges of his age on his forehead and the delicate webbing of wrinkles under his eyes. All of the evidence of his lifestyle glares back at him. There’s a ruddiness over the higher planes of his cheekbones from burning them under the sun. Some of the fist and knife fights from his youth have left permanent evidence of his misgivings on his face. Mostly in the form of scars and his odd nose. 

You disgust her, don’t go kidding yourself. 

If he ever told her the truth of himself, he’s sure a girl like her would go running, suddenly not minding the cold. He never was good at keeping beautiful things by his side. They rotted or wilted, or blew away with the wind. His rough fingers rub at the back of his neck. He stares deep into his own eyes. Trying to force some normalcy, some sense into himself but it’s all in vain. He grunts, paying mind to other things. 

He opens his cabinet, all of the simple clothes he keeps. Something new and not so weathered, or dirty, something clean. Like her. Some nice cotton knit union suit, something he bought when he was preparing for winter. He grips them tight and hesitates at the door. 

Just go n’ give it to her, and try not to be an idiot; for god’s sake. 

And the sweet smile he sees knocks whatever sense he had gathered out of him, he can hardly form a word. He just holds the fabric out to her like an oaf. And she rises, as to keep things comfortable, good at reading his brutish signaling, taking them gently and skirting around him. And then she’s in his bedroom. With a mental cuss, he realizes that he forgot to clean the room before he left. 

Ah, she’ll find out how pathetic you are at some point. Just a matter a’ when… 

All those empty bottles and habits he’s formed from living alone. Dirty clothes piled somewhere and sheets that probably smelled a bit too much like sweat. Christ. He sighs, pinching his nose. He’s not sure why he’s putting so much thought into this. He doesn’t care. Not a care at all. Right…sure.

At first, he distracts himself with preparing food, his leftovers, hopefully enough for her. Doing this is an action which is perhaps a bit selfish. He wants to make it clear that he can give her things she needs. He could figure out wants later.. Typically, he hadn’t thought too much of what women wanted but with her he makes lists, takes out the fine brandy. Sometimes he took after Dutch more than he would like to admit, the man was all too good at forgetting about a woman’s wants and needs.

The food hasn’t gone too cold. His hands look for things to do, stirring unnecessarily. Fumbling the dish he places it on. However, the little comfort he gains from activity fades. He can only grip the counter like a vice while staring out the window above his sink for so long. The shades of brown and orange that make up his cabin blur into nothing, the wood grain isn’t as grounding as he wants it to be. 

But then his legs drift in the opposite direction, He can hear a soft sigh and the rustle of clothing behind the door. He wets his dry throat. Arthur shouldn’t salivate. He does anyway.

You’re a creep. Something in his head laughs at him. 

Been too long since you had a woman this close to your bed and she ain’t even in it with ya…c’mon. C’mon, just open the damn door. 

His heart is about to pound his ribs into dust. He’s among the worst of the worst but this… pushes boundaries. Lines drawn in the sand. Peeping on women wasn’t something he was raised to do. And if he saw something he wasn’t supposed to see, it was an accident. 

You ain’t that bad.

He’s used to letting the tide wash those out so he can draw new ones. And here is a new one. When his fingers push at the door and he can see the sliver where she bares her own flesh. Rubs her hands up her thighs, stepping out of her clothes. His throat goes dry, his teeth bite bluntly at the tip of his tongue as his jaw gets tense. 

His eyes follow the natural plush curve of her body, pale yellow lamp light glancing off of her. He’d kill a man to touch her and he’d kill a man for touching her. Devouring every inch, his eyes soak it all up, dedicating her to memory. 

 And then she’s stepping into the creamy cotton of his clothes. Doing up the buttons at her front. Unbidden by him, his cock fills out, half hard, pressing uncomfortably at just the sight of her. The perfection of her hips, her hair brushing over her back. 

The guilt is chewing a hole in his conscience. It’s like there are termites gnawing away at the foundation of whatever restraint he had. He’s felt less disgusting after killing a man, making him choke on his own blood as it fills his lungs. But the reward had never been so delightful. A sweet girl, so trusting, putting her hand to her chest and smiling as she realizes he’s there. It doesn’t feel good at all, the realization that he’s drooling over her like a mutt. All she has given him is reluctance, nervous glances. She doesn’t touch him or leave her hand to linger. A sweet-as-cream smile is all he has, enough to tide him over. He wants her anyway, needs her to stay. Letting her walk out after this will be next to impossible. 

“You scared me, Mister…” Mister. So polite, an angel delivered unto him. He can feel how his body is tense, tight like a spring. How she doesn’t notice the evidence of his wrongdoing, pressing at the front of his pants is luck or her naivety. His expression must be dazed, a foolish look because all he can do is stare, unable to stop himself. Observing the way his clothes drape over her, exaggerating how much smaller she is in comparison. How stunning she’d look, sprawled over his bed sheets. Precious girl; struggling not to cry when she gets all stretched out on something wholly too big for her. In his mind's eye, she mouths his name, looks at him like all she wants is him inside of her. Right. His name again. 

He dips back into his own ease in which he controls all of himself with. He is self assured and well handled. And he certainly doesn’t curl in on himself. Lets her see how big he is, slips back into old habits with the ease that comes with capability. “Morgan, Arthur Morgan,” his real name, no Kilgore’s or Calahan’s. She should know it anyhow, if he has any real intention in giving it to her.

It’s dangerous and it’s like she can feel it, somewhere in her body is that base instinct. One she was born with to protect herself from people with bad intentions. But she has another instinct, bares her neck to him. Arthur has always been good at suppressing his hunger, desire for soft pretty things. Settling like sediment on them was the control he had, buried them and buried them and buried them. She's a rainstorm, flooding his mind, washing out his carefully maintained resistance. Leaves his want raw and exposed and actionable. He wants her too much, wants her more than he has any right to. 

He feels what little control he has over his urges begin to slip with that thought.  Usually, he let them take over. Let whatever pain and anguish in him manifest into pure rage, cold and unadulterated. At first, it revolted him, his actions. And the reputation he built to go along with them. But they began to grow over him like a second skin until they encased whatever hope he had for a better life completely. His self induced hatred hid whatever pieces of him weren't supposed to be his to have and to share. The things he had to hide from himself even to feel like a whole person at any given moment. And he let himself be that awful thing people thought he was. Arthur Morgan. A force of nature. 

But he deserved it, didn't he? Everyone should keep their distance anyway. He has a habit of making things worse than when he found them. But all he wanted was for her to be close. Sure, he could play the vulnerable man who could pine after his sweetheart, go out riding after her, guide her home where she would forget all about him. Just a kind man out to help the world.

That's not what he wanted. He wanted her to stay here. Can’t bear the thought of being a good man, sending her away when the storm blows over. In sickness and in health, til’ death do us part. That’s what he sees when he closes his eyes. She’s standing in the kitchen, turning the spoils of his hunts into dinner. With that easy smile. His too empty house just wouldn’t feel like a home without her in it. He’s sick, he knows; but he’s sure she can cure him. 

Arthur Morgan has always wanted more than he could have. He chews on the thought like tobacco. Bitter but eventually he begins to need the taste, to crave it. 

“Put somethin’ on the stove for ya, man can’t leave no woman hungry…” God, his tongue feels too thick in his mouth and his jaw aches from gritting his teeth too hard. And of course, he lays all his cards on the table. Man can’t leave his woman hungry.

Every little gesture she makes, wrapping her arms shyly around herself, the gentle tilt of her head and the small affirmative gesture she makes is in no way unordinary. But they’re all dripping with her appeal. How can she smile at him like he doesn't look the way he does? Like he hasn't made the world worse just by existing in it?

 He soils her just by laying greedy eyes on her neck, on her nipples which he can make out through the fabric of his union suit. And when she opens her mouth, he knows he’ll end up calling her what she is. Sweet and syrupy, soothing on his throat. 

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. I really appreciate your kindness,” Arthur is convinced he heard her wrong. But her honesty is in those radiant eyes, in her easy posture. It must be meant to be, it’s not every day a woman talked to him like that. Or talked to him at all. He was perhaps too busy making sure they knew what they would be getting into; dealing with him. 

It may just be the respectful manners instilled in her. He supposed her parents had given her that; mannerisms that made her quite the catch. Utter perfection. But really, even that was a disservice. They damned her to him. Makes him see glimpses of a life he could have. Hundreds of conversations, every iteration of the precious babe they'd have together with his hair and her eyes, a son or a daughter. Two of each perhaps. Hours and hours of her gentle, refined voice taking up the empty room. He bows his head as if he can keep his disbelief and joy under the brim of his hat, currently hanging by his front door. 

She comes nearer. He can smell her cotton scent, can see the way the light casts around her hair, feathering over her, turning it into gold. His body moves to make the smallest space for her. Hoping she’ll nudge against him. He doesn’t even realize the way he’s formed himself to keep her here for just a moment. So close, Arthur nearly loses track of what he was supposed to be doing.  

“Been a long time since somebody called me a kind man, usually it was the opposite,” apprehension floods her body, her features. Her eyes focus on him, waiting for something terrible to happen. Arthur sees how she bristles. He only meant to be honest but she’s already read between his lines. Smart girl. 

He shows her just what he means. Even when he knows better, even if he’s never been this far. It’s like he has to touch though. No where uncomfortable, just to be sure she isn’t a sign that he’s truly gone from this world. 

“Please, I-” 

Her plea goes down his spine. It rakes its teeth over the parts of him that are wrong. That weren’t formed with gentleness, aren’t intricate. Just instinct that he’s indulged. 

He may not be a good man. But he can behave well enough to keep her. Now that he has the room for her. He doesn’t live in a drafty tent. He’s not a dog chained to the hand that fed him too many years ago. He would never treat her like an object to display or a mistake made in a drunken night of pleasure. He wouldn’t throw this away, this one chance at having something real. Wouldn’t lay waste to this opportunity to fill a hole in him that yawned empty for what felt like eternity. She’d be his wife and he; her man. A husband. Mister and Missus Arthur Morgan. A crock of shit, he would have said a month ago.

That ain’t the hand you been dealt and you know it. You’ve made a mess of things enough.

 But now… it's a dreamy reality. It hasn’t quite taken shape but he can get it there. Determination starts to crystallize over the idea. She’s something good; doesn’t need him. He could try to make something better too, could make the best of a situation, try to show her the best in him. But he knows it’d never be enough for her. He always throws these good things away, always ruins it somehow. But he grips and shakes like a mutt at this idea, gnaws it until it's raw. He can just take what he wants. Done that before, hasn’t he?

Just leave’er alone. God, you never learn, goddamned fool…

His fingers graze over the skin on her neck, uncovered by the collar of the union suit he lent her. Here in the dark of the small hallway, he can swear there’s something in the way she breathes, shudders. “I think you need a man to take care of you, honey, need a man to keep you inside- wouldn’t let you go out alone like this if you was my woman… Lemme show you how a man looks after a girl like you,” He’s aware that he sounds like a right bastard but he’s only telling the truth. His hand settles at her back, like it’s supposed to be there. They’re meant to be, all he has to do is show her. 

ok yall how we feeling LMAO i think his perspective was interesting and fun for me to write but idk if its any good, but i hope with practice ill get more confident 🥹🥹 bro is a freak sooo yeah it was fun to write him as a freak he is very conflicted about everything and he is super weird but also sexy sooo😳 i hope you guys enjoyed this lil backstory on why arthur is a weirdo 😊😊😭😭 lmk what you guys think !!

[vixialuvs]

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ BEING EDGED BY SUNOO ! ⋄ 𓍯

୨୧ pairing . kim sunoo x afab!reader

୨୧ genre . smut

୨୧ cw . dom/sub dynamics, edging, pet names (baby, sweet girl) , oral (f), dom!sun

୨୧ LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED !

your boyfriend is usually very bubbly and sweet around you, he rarely ever gets irritated or annoyed with you because of how darling you are. on days when he is frustrated, you are always by his side to help calm him down in any way he wants.

today is one of those days. his entire day went wrong, starting off from the fact that when he woke up he had a small, minuscule pimple on his face, to when he got to the hybe building late all of his members had already started practice without him, and he didn’t even get any time to eat.

when you hear the door to the penthouse slam shut you already know it was a bad day. you can hear his feet padding to the bedroom where you lie in a rush. he throws open the door and you finally see him for the first time that day. he looks disheveled and upset, running a hand through his dark-red hair as he stands in the doorway.

“hi baby,” you say softly, beckoning him over to the bed with you. “bad day i assume?”

he doesn’t even respond with words, just comes over to you and pins you down underneath him. he starts to angrily kiss and suck at your neck, one hand holding your wrists above your head and the other resting on your thigh.

sunoo drinks in all of your sweet noises as you squirm cutely underneath him, like prey. he tugs down at your (his) sweater, trying to take it off you. you oblige and lift your upper body up to help him, since he let go of your wrists to take it off.

he pauses for a second to ask for consent, “is this okay?” and as soon as you nod he immediately makes his way down to his knees on the floor, pulling you to the edge of the bed by your hips. he messily fumbles with your heart-printed boyshorts he loves so much, only to be met face first with your bare cunt.

“no panties, huh? jus’ all ready for me, like a little slut,” he tsks, throwing your thighs over his shoulder as he speaks directly into your pussy, resting his chin on your soft, shaven mound. “my pretty girl.” he leans down again to press a sloppy kiss to your clit, before devouring your pussy like his life depends on it. his kisses become more insistent as he teases your sensitive flesh, while his fingers dance lightly across your folds.

his thumb begins to rub your clit in circles, his touch gentle yet firm as his eyes meet yours. “are you close baby?” he asks so teasingly, you already know what’s going to happen yet you nod vigorously.

sunoo smiles, pleased by your agreement. he continues his teasing touch, his fingers tracing your folds as his thumb delves deeper. he watches you intently, enjoying the way you squirm under his touch.

his tongue flicks out to tease your clit even more, his lips sucking softly on the tiny bud. His fingers continue to stroke your folds, finding just the right rhythm to drive you wild. when he feels your body tense under him, he pulls away, earning a whiney sob out of you.

he scoffs against your pussy, gently slapping it. “shh, baby. brats don’t get what they want.” he rolls his eyes at you as you plead for him to let you cum. instead of that, what he does is flip your position, so now you’re sitting on his face.

he leans in close, inhaling your scent as he teases his tongue against your clit before finally taking it into his mouth. his tongue swirls around your clit, sucking on it gently as his fingers slide inside you. his hand begins to thrust in and out of your hole, his mouth working in tandem. you can feel yourself growing wetter and more sensitive under his skilled ministrations.

sunoo groans against your folds, feeling you growing wetter and more sensitive. his tongue continues to bathe your clit in a warm, slippery sensation as his fingers find your g-spot, pressing firmly against it. “fuck, that’s it baby. ride my face like that. maybe ill let you cum, hm?”

“mmm... your little pussy looks so good like this. so delicate and pretty.” he growls against your cunt, licking and sucking at your folds. your whines grow louder and louder and you start to tug on his hair, which lets him know you’re about to cum.

“please sunny.. i wanna cum.. please let me cum..”

you whimper out loudly, starting to grind your hips faster on his fade. he shushes you once more, but gives in to you as you cum all over his face, your body practically falling over. your form quivers on the bed from the extreme orgasm, and he grabs your soft body and pulls you against him, rubbing your clit through it to help you ride out your high.

“that’s it baby, shh, i’ve got you pretty..” is the last thing you hear before you blank out, falling asleep almost immediately.

@vixialuvs ‘24 . likes and reblogs are appreciated ! thank you for reading .

[crepezinhos]

As Long as You’re Here.

(REQUEST #1) POV: You (Adepti) and Xiao are companions. You work as a medical scientist and an emergency doctor, so Xiao is commonly your patient and test subject (with consent of course). But even if you’ve saved thousands of lives, the fashion culture in Liyue is very strict with weigh and you were recently humiliated in a dress store because of your chubby body. But unfortunately, you can’t hide your tears from Xiao’s ears.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is an angsty NSFW piece

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— Contains sensitive topics about self imagery, weight insecurities and fatphobia

— Contains fat-shaming insults

You gently closed the door behind you.

Sigh.

You are a good person, you know? You are such a good person that you still hadn’t realized that Liyue’s beauty standards are toxic enough to cut through the line of respect between mere humans and the Adepti until now.

You just wanted to try out the beautiful red cheongsam (I just searched up a traditional Chinese dress I’m not sure if this accurate) you saw in a store’s display case. But instead, you got fat-shamed by an employee and giggled at by the customers nearby.

.

“Hey, you.” You heard a voice behind you, tapping you by your shoulder.

“Yes?” You answered gently, turning backwards to face the lady behind you.

“Do you wanna buy that dress?” She asked a little frustrated, which made you realize just how frowned her eyebrows were.

“Yes! I think it looks beautiful! I’ve been thinking about this dress for some days now and I think I want to use it in this year’s Lantern Ri—”

“It’s not for sale.” The lady interrupted.

“Oh… really? But it’s in the store’s display… and it has a price tag…” You argued, still with a sweet voice.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just not for sale for people like you.” She shamed, looking you up and down.

“You mean… Adepti..?” You asked, genuinely confused with what she said.

“No. Pigs.” She answered with a certain disgust of you. She knew you were an Adeptus and still called you a pig for no good reason at all.

“Oh…” You went silent for some seconds, unsure of what to say to make the moment less awkward. “Is there any way I can request the same dress but in a size that fits me?” You asked nicely, but the lady only chuckled.

“Are you kidding? Do you want to get me fired? It would be a shame for us to have our brand printed in such a dress!” She screamed at you, genuinely offended by your offer.

“Oh, ok...” You said, now with nothing to say or offer at all.

“Now leave before you get in more trouble.” She demanded, pointing to the exit behind her.

“Ok…”You accepted, beginning a slow rhythm while looking at the floor with shame.

And as you walked away, you noticed that most of the customers in the store around were staring at you, either giggling or gossiping with their company.

“Did she really think she could buy that dress?” You heard one of the many comments slightly echo in your ear.

.

You felt a tear rolling down your face. You were really trying to believe the lady hadn’t recognized you, but it wouldn’t make what she said any better. It wasn’t the first time this kind of situation happened to you but… it seems that you’ve reached your limit.

Another tear rolled down, and then another one, and then another one. Some slight hiccups started to escape your mouth. You wanted to hold them up, you wanted to believe that it didn’t matter and that you loved yourself just the way you are. So you slowly leaned your head to the floor, challenging your own eyes to look at yourself.

It was useless. It was so useless that it only worsened your mood. More tears begun to run down and more sounds started to escape your mouth. You were quick in shutting yourself, covering your mouth by sticking your hand palm in it and kneeling down to call less attention from whoever. Everyone knew you as this intelligent and prodigious Adeptus who had perfected the art of healing, who always had a solution for the ill, who would spend most of your days searching for a medicine for theEleazar… you couldn’t cry for such a weird and stupid reason, not at all. Everyone who saw that scene of you would be ashamed.

“What’s wrong?” You suddenly heard a male voice coming from behind you, making you immediately get up in fear.

You met Xiao’s figure, standing pretty far from you with his usual stoic face and arms crossed.

“Y-Yaksha Xiao?! W-Wha… what are you doing in here?! How did you get in?!” You asked confused by his sudden presence, discounting some of your emotions in him.

“Why are you crying?” He asked, ignoring your previous questions. His gaze was locked so deep in you that it seemed like a threat to you.

You didn’t understand his presence there, nor felt comfortable to answer his question.

“Doesn’t matter… you should go back to—” You attempted answering, avoiding eye contact with him while holding up some tears, but your act was quickly shut down.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me.” He demanded beginning to step closer to you.

He was walking slowly, but since each step of his made the wood planks of the floor crank, it became twice as menacing as before. You felt afraid, like he was going to hurt your vulnerable self at that moment if you didn’t confess.

Why the fuck is he trying to get an answer out of you like he was going to kill you if you didn’t?

“Yaksha Xiao… please—” You tried fighting his presence back after feeling he had crossed your line of personal space by stepping backwards, but your ankles immediately hit the door behind you. And as soon the bang echoed, Xiao slammed the door using his both his hand by the sides of your shoulders and kept them there.

You were cornered.

“Tell me.” He demanded, still staring at the bottom of your soul.

You remained silent. You weren’t understanding him at all. Why was he there, out of everyone that could appear to comfort you? Yaksha Xiao was nothing more than a rude colleague. He’d barely ever appear at meetings at the lake in Mount Aozang, only those who were work related. Most of your few interactions with that man were short and awkward because he never seemed to enjoy talking with you or anybody, no matter how kind you or anyone was to him. You understood that he went and still goes through a lot of agony and grief, so you tried being friendly to him. He seemed to notice your change in behavior towards him, but still didn’t collaborate at all, even if you spent hours taking care of his wounds and sealing karmic debt inside him, he would not even say “thank you” and disappear of your sight as soon as you turned your back to him.

“It’s nothing… I— wait… how did you even know I was crying..?” You asked between some tears, finally finding courage to stare at his amber eyes.

He went silent for some seconds, but his face was still as stoic as a rock.

“I was nearby and my hearing is great.” He answered neutrally.

“Oh… well…” You sighed, forgetting his intentions with you for a brief moment.

“Tell me.” He demanded again.

“It’s nothing, okay? I just… feel overwhelmed because of something that happened at work today…” You confessed a part of the story, lying about working.

“And what happened today?” He asked.

Was he really going to make you answer it all?

“Yaksha Xiao, I believe you’re crossing a huge line of privacy and respect right now.” You said angrily to him, trying your best to not blow up. His insistence was very annoying, especially when you were having a very private moment.

But incredibly, he obeyed you and stepped away. You cleaned up the wet in your face and he watched it all, unsure of what to do as his fists gripped themselves harder and harder.

“I’m… sorry.” Xiao muttered when you made the final wipe in your left cheek.

“No, no… it’s ok… I just… didn’t expect you to show up.” You replied, crossing your arms and avoiding eye contact.

“Why?” He asked, genuinely confused.

“Well… we aren’t friends.” You said, chuckling afterwards to make it seem less rude.

“We… aren’t..?” He asked, barely sounding like a whisper.

“We barely talk to each other. I mean… you barely talk to me, because I always make sure to talk to you.” You confessed, a little stressed and sighed afterwards, realizing you were simply making the situation more awkward and harder on you than it was.

“Sorry, I don’t really have time for conversations.” He explained himself, finally looking away from you.

“Yeah… right.” You scoffed, accidentally sounding higher than you wanted it to be.

The entire place went quiet for some awkward seconds, like the whole city had gone quiet.

…

Why isn’t he leaving? Isn’t this awkward to him?

…

“How was your day?” Xiao asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Why are you asking?” You asked, stressed at his insistence.

“You always told me about your day when you took care of me.” He said, accidentally triggering all the anger you kept to yourself.

“BECAUSE THINGS WOULD GET TOO AWKWARD IF I KEPT QUIET!” You blowed up, making Xiao slightly shiver and the ambient go quiet again.

You sighed and put your hands in your front hair and pushing it backwards trying to get some air.

During that, you accidentally glanced at him for a quick moment and realized that he seemed weirdly nervous, like a hurt person would be. You sighed again, ashamed and regretful for saying such a mean thing to him. He was just trying to help you.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be going now.” He said before turning his back to you and stepping forward a few times.

“Wait!” You screamed, making him instantly stop his attempt on teleportation. “Listen I… I just feel bad, ok? I didn’t even go to work today… I was hanging around and I went to this dress store, and then one of the employees said they’d never sell a dress to a person like me.” You finally confessed the realest truth, feeling your voice break again with the will of crying.

“A person like you?” He asked, turning only his face to you.

“A fat person, Yaksha Xiao.” You answered, feeling a tear again at calling yourself fat.

Xiao turned his face back, staring at the balcony of your home for some seconds.

“Humans… you shouldn’t listen to them. You’re not fat.” He said, turning his whole body to you.

“It’s kinda hard to not listen when they call you a pig…”

“A pig?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not a pig, you’re an Adeptus. How dare they call you that?” He said, angrier this time since you specified what you’ve been called.

“I don’t know, Xiao. I really don’t know.” You said before Xiao put his hands on the door and cornering you against it again.

“Don’t give it attention, you’re perfectly beautiful the way you are.” He confessed his thoughts to you instinctually, but instantly swallowed some saliva afterwards from the regret of saying that.

“You think I’m beautiful..?” You asked, genuinely taken aback from hearing someone like Xiao calling you that.

“I…” He mumbled, trying to regain his composure but couldn’t find a way to. So he stood quietly for some seconds while staring at you. “Yes. Yes I do.”

“Oh… thank you.” You thanked embarrassed.

“You still seem sad.” He argued.

“Well… that’s because as long as I’m thankful for your kindness, it just won’t help at all.” You explained, crossing your arms and looking away.

“Why?”

“Because people only say it to me when I’m crying over it. It’s never in a common day or a new dress, y’know?”

“But I’m being genuine.” He said, feeling offended by your accusation.

“That’s also what they say to me…”

“But the difference is that I like you way more than anyone does! Ganyu, Shenhe, Cloud Retainer, Rex Lapis… they feel nothing for you compared to me!” Xiao finally bursted.

“You… what..?” You asked, very surprised at what he said.

“You have no idea how good it is for me to wake up in a warm bed with all wounds covered up, with no headaches and a nice lady talking to me about her day after a terrible day full of fighting, blood and gore! Sorry if I was inconvenient to you before, but I want to change! I hate to admit it but you make me feel things I haven’t felt in ages, and I don’t want you to think I don’t feel it! It pains me that you care more about what humans say to you than all the Adepti and me at this moment!” He screamed, finishing like he still had more to say.

You just stood there.

…

Wow.

Was that really Yaksha Xiao..? It couldn’t be.

He had a crush on you?!

“Oh.” That was all you could find to say.

He didn’t like how you were quiet towards his confession, so he suddenly leaned forward and glued your lips together. You didn’t really have a reaction, you just let him explore your mouth until you finally felt yourself being dragged into the heat of it. And when you did, your heart seemed to melt, feeling his previous words finally hit you. The sympathy you felt for him grew in that same minute. A thing you’d never expect someone like Xiao could do to a person that quick.

Tears begun to form in your eyes again. All the sadness you were keeping inside you, seemed to have find the perfect opportunity to get out. The more you accepted the kiss, the further he pushed your head to the door and his tongue inside your shaky mouth. It seemed like Xiao was sucking all of it outside you and it was working so well that it made moan for the first time in many years. Even if he was doing well, air isn’t infinite.

He parted away from your face and both of you begun to recover from the overuse of oxygen while staring at each other.

“What about now?” He asked between some heavy breathes.

“I…” You mumbled, embarrassed about what you two were doing.

But you wouldn’t mind if he went on. Right?

Xiao was a beautiful guy in the end of the day and now revealed to be in love with you.

Your hands moved to his face and pulled him for another kiss. This time he was being more competitive for power of the kiss because of the way you controlled his face with your hands. Xiao also unexpectedly changed his hands’ position to your crotch, sliding them under your dress and touching your clothes clit. You didn’t expect him to advance that quick and intimately, so you pushed him away from your mouth.

“W-Wait..!” You said, expecting him to ignore you, which didn’t happen.

“Yes?” He asked.

“Are you… I mean, are we going to…” You tried asking but the embarrassment didn’t allow you to.

“Do you want to?” He answered, staring at you. You noticed his eyes seemed to be more hungry than before.

“I mean… are you sure..?”

“Yes. Are you sure?”

“I…” You mumbled before you felt your clit slightly ache like it wanted that touch again. “Do it again… please.” You asked, moving your hand to the tip of your dress and pulling it up slightly, still not showing your underwear to his eyes.

Xiao slightly chuckled. You’ve never heard him make that sound and definitely was surprised to see him do it for such a weird reason. But his hands quickly reoccupied your mind with his two longest fingers beginning to rub your clothes clit up and down repeatedly. Your legs would flinch whenever he decided to scissor and press your clit with the same fingers. Your hands were in the wall, trying to contain yourself from crumbling down.

“You’re wet.” Xiao commented back with his stoic face as he gently pressed your entrance.

You moaned, smashing his perverted hand with your shaky legs when he begun to try thrusting you.

“X-Xiao~!” You called out his name in pleasure.

Xiao growled, like he had really liked what he had just heard.

“I want you all for myself.” He demanded, ignoring your calls and shoving his head on your neck.

His mouth begun to lick and smooch your soft skin and fragile bones as you did your best to not press his fluffy hair too hard and crumble in his single hand holding your buttock. Even if he wasn’t making direct contact with your pussy, you were feeling desperate with that overwhelming pleasure he tortured you with.

“D-Don’t you want to do it in another place or position?!” You suggested, trying to hold his wrist and pushing his head away from your now marked neck.

“I don’t have much time.” He answered, obeying your wishes, but beginning to undo his pants.

“But I weigh a lo—!”

“I’ve carried heavy things my entire life. You will definitely not be a problem.” He said, pulling your legs up, making your whole body hanged in his hands.

You screamed in surprise but let yourself fall and be hanged. Your legs naturally spread away from each other due to the position, opening a way for him to get closer.

And as he stepped those extra steps, one of his hands moved to your hips, pulling your torso closer to him. You looked down and realized he already had himself positioned between your legs.

“Are you ready? I promise I’ll be quick.” He asked looking at you deep, shameless of the moment.

“Do it~...” You asked, putting a hand on top of your mouth to cover your red, vulnerable face a little.

“I will. You don’t have to worry.” Xiao answered while grabbing the wrist of the hand that dared to go in front of your mouth.

You felt his hands move down to grab a piece of your underwear and pull it away, making your bare pussy show up. You begun to feel the tip of his dick making contact with your your entrance, unintentionally feeling the stickiness of your pussy contaminating his tip, beginning to fill you up. And after admiring the view for some seconds, he finally pushed his way inside you very slowly. Your first reaction was to squirm and scream as you felt your walls spread a way for him while Xiao simply hissed in relief. He shortened the distance between you two, laying his head on your neck again to stimulate you with his mouth as he finally begun to move his hips back and forth slowly. You hugged his back, trying to contain the slight pain of having sex after many years. Your nails instinctually pierced and scratched his skin to firm yourself better, causing him to hiss and grip harder on your buttocks as he felt them go deeper and deeper.

“S-Sorry, I—” You tried apologizing between moans.

“It’s ok, discount it all on me.” He ordered, breathing on your neck hard.

You felt two tears form in each eye. The comfort Xiao’s words were making you feel weird, but somehow so good. Your shoulders and hips relaxed to tense up the grip of your nails in his clothed back while Xiao took it like it was nothing.

“Why do you even bother listening to what mere humans have to say about you..? You could wipe the entire city if you wanted to, yet, they have no sense of respect…” He whispered angrily in your ear, discounting his own anger on you as well.

It looked like he was drunk, but Xiao was just burning in the passion and of the situation. He already disliked humans, but their audacity never failed to make his blood boil.

“I don’t want to ever see you crying over what pesky humans say about you and your body, ok? If you don’t defend yourself, they’ll only continue… because they believe you are hurt. You don’t want that, do you?” He asked, covering most of his moans and gasps in the process to make his message more obvious. His eyes wouldn’t move away from yours, trying to get the answer he wanted out of your mouth.

“No… no I don’t..!” You gathered all your energy to scream something to him.

“And if you can’t defend yourself, call our my out my name. A whisper or a finger snap is enough.” He ordered, still in his angry mood.

“I will… I will..!” You threw your head to the air as Xiao pulled your hips closer to his, increasing the amount of total length his dick reached inside you. If you two were in another position, he would be easily reaching your cervix with each thrust.

“Good.” He said before putting his tongue on your neck again and beginning to accelerate his rythym.

Your noises got higher because of those two last decisions of Xiao and your back arched to the core. Your womb also began to slightly ache in a good way, wanting Xiao even more. Your legs moved to tangle your feet together and hug Xiao’s waist to pull his hips closer to you. It worked. Now the tip of his dick could kiss your cervix. The touch was minimum, you could barely feel it sometimes, which made it just more tortuous to you.

You closed your mouth to gather some air to speak what you had in mind.

“Xiao..! I think I’m close~!” You screamed, using all the air you’ve gathered in those seconds.

His pace got even faster, searching more of your pleasure than his own.

“You are, huh? Tell me how you want this.” He whispered in your ear, licking the lobe afterwards.

“Faster~! Faster~!” You asked, trying to not sound as demanding as Xiao.

Xiao didn’t even say anything, he just quickened his pace to the max he could, making you throw your head to the air in ecstasy.

“Oh, archons~! Archons~!” You screamed, feeling your womb ache more and more with the closure of your climax.

And suddenly, both of you felt your orgasm coming all the way down, making both of you stop everything immediately to feel the moment. Your legs shook non-stop and Xiao was doing his best to keep your hips in the same place. He was very sweaty and gasping but his facial expression was incredibly neutral. He hadn’t even tried reaching his orgasm, so he had no much pleasure to express at that moment rather than having his cock warmed by your sticky, tight walls.

As soon as your legs stopped twitching and your body could relax after the orgasm, your eyes closed, completely exhausted. Xiao pulled you away from the wall and begun walking as he changed the way he carried you to a princess style. You didn’t care where he took you, you just wanted to rest after a noon of many emotions and sex. You suddenly felt body lay down and slightly sink at a very soft place, your own bed. You opened your eyes to see what had happened to you and saw Xiao pulling the sheets of your bed to the height of your chest.

“Tell me, which store was it?” He asked you like nothing had happened, looking at your eyes as he finalized the job of comforting you in the bed.

You breathed in and out using your mouth some more times before finding the courage and air to tell him the store’s name.

“Huai Dei… it was the Huai Dei store.” You answered, now a little less more rested and normal.

“I hope it’s not your favorite store.” He said, before finally walking away from you to the balcony and teleporting somewhere you didn’t know.

You stared at the spot where he last stepped for some seconds before turning your head to the roof again and closing your eyes slowly.

Don’t forget to like and comment if you liked it <3

[boolger]

I’m dangerous ☆ chapter 1 ☆ COD fanfic

Originally posted on my AO3, where I post all my stuff. Always read the tags of my fanfics. MDNI

[chapter 1] ☆[chapter 2] ☆ [chapter 3] ☆ [chapter 4] ☆ [chapter 5]☆ [chapter 6] ☆[chapter 7]

☆ fem!reader x Kate Laswell ☆ explicit. MDNI. ☆ 1/10 ☆ 1,843 words

☆ Summary: You were a hacker and had been a thorn in the side of the 141 gang for a while, in particular as you tried to find out who the famous leader, Watcher, was. But they refuse to be blackmailed and won’t pay you.

So, to prove that you weren’t just bluffing, but were a serious threat to them, you kidnapped a random woman that you saw coming out from one of their meetings, figuring she was a secretary or girlfriend or something.

Oh, how wrong you were.

☆ Tags: au mob, gang, kidnapping, blackmailing, dub-con, angst, smut, death, grief/mourning, hacking, non-con drug use, bondage, spanking, kissing, rough sex, inaccurate portrayal of mob, more will be added.

☆ note: I’m trying to keep the reader’s appearance vague, but she is afab, chubby and has shoulder length hair. ☆ As for plot – I’m not sure if I saw the post on tumblr or tiktok and I cant find it lol, but it mentioned reversing the more classic fanfic plots. So for example, the main character isn’t kidnapped by a mob boss - but kidnaps the mob boss. So, that is what I started with and then I will freestyle along the way. ☆ There will be mention of chronic illness and death of a character, not a main one, but the reader's little sister, but I try not to go into details about the illness aspect (since I don’t know too much about that). There will be focus on grief and the loss of a sibling however, so if that triggers or makes you uncomfortable, maybe don’t read this one. ☆ dubious consent in the later chapters, that might border to non-con. ☆ Badly described hacking. I don’t know shit about hacking, I've studied things in the humanities category the last six years. So if a bad understanding of tech makes you upset, I'm sorry.

Being a hacker wasn’t as glamorous as you had expected when you were younger. After everything with your sister, you had expected things to change, sure, but not into this. Everything was even more of a mess than before and somehow you got into blackmailing. Which, well… When you hit the right people, it paid well.

And sure, you had felt strong at first. Like you were invincible, a vigilante who blackmailed rich and awful people. You needed the money more than them, after all. Yet, the clock kept ticking and you needed more money fast. You needed more money to pay the last of your debts off and run away.

Which was how you ended up like this, blackmailing the mob.

The 141 gang was infamous on the streets of London. Most people knew who you talked about and those who didn’t, were often tourists or recently moved to the town. Whether they were hated or loved, really depended on who you asked. Some people said they made their areas safer, so they now had less crimes - others said they were horrendous bastards, who acted above the law. In truth, you didn’t really care. You weren’t a model citizen yourself, running around and blackmailing people. All you cared about was the fact that they had money, lots of it and they were easy to blackmail, since they didn’t want to be exposed.

Now, threatening them with the local police? Wouldn’t do much, it had to be to everybody – and then all the journalists too. Sure, you didn’t really have the energy to mass email out all the proof you had, but the 141 didn’t need to know that. You had them believe that you were a small group of people anyways and not just… you.

You, out in the almost empty house, over 50 miles away from London. It was much more lonely out here now. Half a year ago, you and your sister lived out here in peace, happy with how everything was going despite her illness flaring up now and again.

Now it was empty and lonely. Sometimes, when the wind hit the house at the right angle, you could hear the cars from the nearby motorway.

Alas, the 141 thought you were a big and bad group of hackers, threatening to take their kingdom down - and sure, you had a lot of stuff of theirs that could be bad in the wrong hands. You had papers, screenshots and recordings from when you hacked into different security cameras. You had traced a lot of them too, you had evidence.

Now they just needed to pay.

So far, they hadn’t really been fun to play with. They refused, saying that you were bluffing. Saying that if they saw you, they were going to kill you, which wasn’t really nice of them. You doubted they couldn’t survive without 60,000 pounds. Sure, it was a lot of money - but you needed them too. A bit more, you dared to think. And for a whole mobster empire? Seemed like a good deal to you.

Besides, you were so curious that you wanted to die: Who was their boss? Nobody knew. Everyone had ideas and theories, sure, but the famous Watcher was still unknown, even to you - which bothered you so much. You had your own theories, your main one was that this Watcher was really just John Price.

No matter who the Watcher was - and how good your deal was - they were just so fucking stubborn. So, you needed to prove that you were serious. You didn’t really have the time to mess around and send them more photos or shit, so according to movies you saw - and google - it was time to step up.

Go from hacker to kidnapper. Which really hadn’t been a career plan of yours, but here you were.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

You had tracked one of them, the Scot that everyone called Soap, so that you could follow them from a distance. You weren’t stupid enough to actually try to shadow them. Despite them not hanging around the finest streets of London, your beat up van stuck out sometimes.

Plans? Sure, you had… some of those. At least, you knew what not to do.

First of all - You weren’t going to take Price, people were around him all the time anyways and if he was the leader as you suspected, that wouldn’t go well.

Secondly, all his men were out of the picture too. At least those who always hang around him, because some of their biceps were bigger than your face.

Third, you had to avoid a proper fight - so that meant waiting for the right moment. You had a taser, duct tape and you had some strong sedatives. You were going to hack your way out of fighting.

Fourth and final point so far - get away as fast as possible. You weren’t going to stick around.

So just… wait for the right person, then tase, inject, duct tape, drive away. It was fine. You had all the components, you just needed to put it all together, then blackmail the group, get the money, drop off the person and then get away.

Your van was blue and rusty, the engine was loud and all the back seats were taken out, since you had lived in it for a little while, outside the hospital. The mattress you used to have in the back was pulled away, since you needed it for the captive to sleep on inside the house. They would have to deal with being on the car floor for the trip - they would most likely be sedated anyways. Now there was just some trash in the back of the car that you should probably have cleaned up, but didn’t care to, since the car bore bad memories - as well as some small electronic pieces that you had picked up here and there, thinking you would need to use it for experiments.

As the group came to a stop at a pub you knew they went to sometimes, you went behind it and parked next to a bigger car, which hid your van a little. Then you waited.

You wore some of your more discreet clothing. The baby-metal band t-shirts were hidden beneath a grey hoodie, with the least monster energy drink stains on, and a pair of rugged jeans. If your sister had been here she would have rolled your eyes at you and said you looked like a teenager trying to be rebellious - and not a 25-year old woman. You missed being told that. Your hair was hanging loosely, hoping it would hide your face a little. Your septum piercing was tipped up and hidden, and you had changed your usual silver tongue piercing for a clear one. Though you doubted that it was your tongue piercing that would be damning evidence.

After waiting about 25 minutes you crawled over the seats rather inelegantly, opening the sliding door to turn towards the other car, for some fresh air.

You were tired, yet stressed at the same time. It was unnecessarily stressful to kidnap somebody, especially when you didn’t really want to.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

It was about a power nap and 30 minutes later, when you were ripped from your thoughts at the sounds of the back door opening and a female voice telling somebody that she needed her cigarettes. You tipped your head forward a little, seeing how she closed the backdoor behind her.

You had seen her before. She seemed to be near the others a lot of the time.

She looked in her 40s, with light brown hair that almost looked a little blond in the rare sunlight of London. Nicely dressed, a confident smile on her face as she pulled her car keys from her bag and the car right next to you lit up.

Maybe a girlfriend? Wife? Secretary?

No matter what, the chance was too good to be true.

Somehow you managed to catch her off guard as she seemed more focused on finding her cigarettes as she opened her car door – so that was when you struck, tasing her. Everything happened so fast - yet not fast enough at the same time.

You pushed the needle into her skin, as she groaned, clearly a little confused from being tased - and most likely from hitting your car floor - as soon as the contents were injected you pulled the needle out again. The woman groaned and grabbed your wrist, mumbling something. You pushed it off, grabbing the roll of duct tape you had prepared, pushing her onto her stomach. She wasn’t going without a fight though and you wanted to cry as she managed to pull her hand free. You needed the bloody drug to kick in this minute.

You sat down on her back, your weight useful - the work of wrapping her wrists together was honestly shit. YouTube made it look so much easier.

You ignored her as she began to curse you out. grabbing her bag, emptying the content on the floor of the car, eyes constantly flickering to her. She seemed confused - so you focused. There was an Apple air tag in it, that you hurriedly picked up. There was no phone though. You wanted to throw up, this was taking longer than it should.

She tried sitting up, having rolled onto her back again, your eyes meeting. Hers were cloudy, while yours were focused. You pushed her down again, hands running over her jacket. The moment your hand touched the familiar shape of a phone, your hand dug into the pocket, not even trying to be nice about it. She was mumbling about how what you were doing was wrong, but you didn’t need to be told that.

As soon as you got the phone, you got up and crawled in between the front seats, sitting down and starting the car. You needed to get the hell out of here, now.

The sound of the shitty engine drowned out her complaints. You drove off as quickly as you could, throwing her phone and the AirTag out in a couple of bushes that the car passed.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

It was several minutes later that you concluded that nobody was following you, which made you breathe a little easier.

As you waited for the green light, you looked over your shoulder, taking in the sight of the woman on the floor of your car, in between empty monster cans, cables and small electronics. She was laying quietly, but you could see her chest moving.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into? You could feel an anxiety attack crawling along your ribs, threatening to overwhelm you.

As soon as the money was transferred, you dropped her off again - and then you could run, somewhere up north. Start somewhere fresh, where you don't know anybody. Where the 141 or bad memories couldn’t find you. Maybe get a dog.

First things first, however. You needed to get this whole kidnapping thing done.

[stinkysam]

Trafalgar Law - S/O with a chronic illness.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : “Ooh, may I request Trafalgar Law fluff with an s/o with chronic illnesses that result in a lot of disassociation and memory problems? If it's not too tricky or out of your comfort range? Things like. They forget dates and details, both important and unimportant, but they do *try* to remember. They just... can't. Their memory's like a wet sieve. And they tend to run into items that have never moved because they've forgotten that it's there. Or they've disassociated halfway through walking through a space and have completely forgotten that they have a body, and need to dodge items that they know are there.” - anon

Reader : gender neutral (you/yours)

Law, even though it's not in his medical range, has studied the field of chronic illness and knew what to expect when you told him about it.

He's also a very patient man, despite Luffy wearing it thin. But lucky for him you're not Luffy, completely naive and unpredictable.

He doesn't mind you forgetting dates, he knows you're not doing it on purpose. Even if they're important. He'll remind you of the important ones without judging you. Same thing if you forget names, faces, places.

He's not big on dates either. Except for Cora's death and the first time he met each member of his crew. And if he doesn't remember the date exactly he remembers how the day went.

So you won't have to worry about the 1st week & month anniversary of your relationship. But he'll remind you for the first year anniversary and the following ones but that's all.

He doesn't care if you forget which one of you asked the other on a date, or other details. He'll remember it and will remind you if you want to.

He's a bit amused by you walking into things though. As long as you don't get hurt. Sometimes, when you go too fast he will make you move with his devil fruit so you don't hit anything too hard. It makes him think of cats that are almost blind and hit things.

He has tried moving things around in the Polar Tang so they would be less in the way but it didn't change anything. You still walked into walls and doors, it just made it worse for a short period of time.

With your consent, he talked about it to the members of the crew so they wouldn't get hurt if you forgot their birthday or even their name.

They're all very patient and understanding and it even relaxed them a little bit. Not that it wasn't okay to forget someone's birthday, but now it felt less stressful.

He'll never make you feel insecure about it because he knows illnesses are hard to live with. Even if they're not physical.

He's a bit worried about your dissociation, though, and tries to find ways to help you with it. Like keeping a consistent sleep schedule despite his horrible one. Making you eat nutritious food -but he does that with everyone-, making you exercise. Or pet Bepo while smelling different essential oils.

He even makes you write a journal so you can help yourself remember what you did and keep track of things.

He always makes you sit when you start dissociating, not wanting you to walk overboard accidentally or open the main doors while the Polar Tang is in the depth of the sea.

You were sitting on the floor calmly, Bepo placed between your legs as you caressed his head. He's more relaxed than you, taking it as a massage while you try to identify what you're smelling but your stare is almost empty, feeling it hard to connect with your thoughts.

Law is here too, sitting next to you, reading and talking with Bepo. He doesn't care how long it takes for you to come back. Once again, he's patient and aware it's harder for you than for him.