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lavandulawrites · 6 months ago

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Yandere Genshin Men With An Escaped Darling

Characters: Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Capitano, Childe, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Dottore, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Lyney, Neuvillette, Pantalone, Pierro, Sethos, Thoma, Tighnari, Venti, Wanderer, Wriothesley, Xiao, Zhongli (all separate)

This took me so much longer than what I have planned. I had much fun writing this:) if you have any yandere scenario requests feel free to send me an ask<3 (I most likely won’t include every single character). (Let me know if anyone wanna be apart of my taglist).

Masterlist

Warnings: violence, murder, imprisonment, manipulation, drugging, female reader

Word count: 9664

Albedo

The icy wind whipped against your cheeks. Snow clouded your vision. The tree branches waved in the wind and grasped at your clothes. You hissed as a thorn ripped your fabric, causing you to bleed.

As you ran down the mountain you glanced over your shoulder at every given moment.

A clearing caught your eye. Finally you could breathe out. You leans against a large tree. You needed to cover your wound. You rummaged through your pockets and to your joy you found a small scarf. The thin woven scarf was gifted to you by Klee, Albedo’s younger sister. The little girl was so proud when she gave you the scarf and wanted you to wear it all the time. Sadness filled your being at the thought of ruining the pink scarf, but your arm was more important. You bound your wound tightly with the scarf. One of the things he had thought you.

“I told you to stay inside the cabin” his voice echoed.

You froze. You prayed to the archons that it was just your mind playing tricks on you.

“This mountain is dangerous. You have no way of defending yourself” his voice soft.

You turned your head. Your eyes met his ice blue ones. They were cold, just like the icy mountain.

“Let’s go home” he walked towards you with quick steps. His arms wrapped around you and he kissed your forehead. “You are better off home, with me. I will keep you safe” his arms tightened around your form.

Alhaitham

The scribe had given you freedom. Which allowed you to freely roam the Akademiya. While Alhaitham was preoccupied in his office, you explored the university. Within a couple of months you had made friends with a couple of the students. You never told them you situation with the grey haired scholar, but they all knew that you lived together.

You had spent a lot of time plotting your escape. After all escaping the scribe was no easy task. The House of Daena was empty and quiet. The small bag you had hoisted over your shoulder filled with only the necessities. Your hands was shaking as you pushed down the door handle to a back door. The sunlight blinded you as the door opened.

You hurried down the path from the Akademiya. Your flats clicking against the cobblestone. You had to get out from Sumeru City and seek refuge in a remote town. It was risk, sure, but it was your only hope.

After an hour or so you had made your way to a small village on the outskirts of the capital. It wasn’t the ideal place, but it was your only option for the night. You was so kindly offered the spare bed by a lovely elderly woman. She didn’t ask why you looked over your shoulder every minute and that you were thankful for.

You packed your things and thanked the older woman for her kindness and went on your way.

After hours on the road your legs felt like jelly. You stopped by a abandoned house and rested on the little bench by the overgrown vegetable garden.

You woke up by the sounds of footsteps coming your way. A shadow blocked the sun.

“I must say you have slightly developed, but unfortunately you are still as predictable as ever” Alhaitham shook his head. “The elderly woman you slept at told me everything as soon as I explained the situation” his lips widened into a grin. “She thanked my for looking after such a helpless woman such as yourself.”

Strong arms picked you up and held you tight against his strong chest. “Let’s go home”.

Ayato

Ayato was a sly man. With his white clothing he looked like an angel, but that was far from the truth. You had many times heard him command the Shuumatsuban to get rid of the clan’s enemies. You knew the katana that rested by his hip when he was out on public duties, had slaughtered many.

You were afraid. Not only by him in himself, but afraid of his power and actions. That’s why you climbed over the tall walls that shielded the Kamisato residence from the outside world. Your ankles buckled under you as you landed and you whimpered out in pain. After you had collected yourself, you made a run for it. The ninja’s that were stationed around the estate had without doubt already spotted you. You hoped that they went to report to Ayato instead of chasing you down.

The way down to the beach was rocky and dangerous. Like a wild goat you quickly made your way down thanks to the adrenaline that pumped through your veins. The old rowboat was in the same stop just as you had recalled from an evening stroll with Ayaka along the beach. To your luck the two paddles were still there. You pushed the boat with all your might to the shore. The saltwater cold against your bare feet.

The swish of an arrow stopped you in your tracks. You looked down and saw it sticking out from the side of the boat. The hole was not that big, but it would cause your boat to leak in enough water for it to sink before you had made it to safety.

“Seize her!” a Shuumatsuban with high standing ordered.

A man with his face covered dragged you away from your boat and bound your wrists behind your back.

When you looked up at the cliff you saw Ayato looking down at you. He made his way down slowly and dread filled your veins.

He stopped in front of you and lifted your chin with a finger. “Did you have fun?” he leaned his face closer, his breath fanning your face. “Do not forget that I have eyes and ears everywhere”.

“Now let’s get you home. I will make sure you won’t slip through my fingers again. Though I must say your little attempt humoured me”

Baizhu

Tricking the little zombie girl made you feel horrible, but it was your only ticket to freedom. The green haired doctor had feed you herbs that made you weak and depended on his care. You had seen the label on the little bottle containing the medicine. So when he was out researching some herbs, you went through all the medical books he had in his libraries in search of the antidote. After much time and countless books you finally figured out the antidote.

You talked to Qiqi alone when Baizhu was busy treating a patient. You explained that he needed some herbs and told her that she had to deliver them to you and not her guardian. After some convincing she agreed. You crossed your fingers that she would remember and not slip up.

To your joy Qiqi had indeed remembered. The herbs tasted awful, but it was a small price to pay. It didn’t take long before you felt the medicine Baizhu had given you wear of. When he came to check up on you, you pretended that you were still weak. You asked him to go get some more medicine and he did as you said. When the green haired man left, you quickly tried to pry the window open. It was slightly jammed, but with your new strength you managed. Finally you had escaped the snake’s nest.

Your feet moved fast as you ran down the many stairs. You had to turn Baizhu to the authorities for his crimes. Just as you had made it down the stairs you bumped into someone. You didn’t need to look up to understand who it was.

“You will catch a cold running around like that” his voice cold as ice. His fingers lifted up your chin. “Tricking Qiqi really was a low move. That poor child was absolutely devastated to come home to an empty house. As for me I must say I am deeply disappointed. I have made it very clear that you will not manage without me.”

His lips curled up into a soft smile. “Let’s go home my darling. I will make some tea.”

Capitano

The first Harbinger was worshipped throughout the whole snowy nation. His underlings held great respect for him. He could be cruel and bloodthirsty, but to you he had a soft spot for.

Boots hammered against the ice ground. You knew you wouldn’t be able to run away from them, but you would not give up so easily.

As you made your way through the thick pine forest you started to regret your decision, but it was too late. As you came to the end of the forest you were surrounded by soldiers. Their spears raised towards you, stopping you in your tracks.

The sound of hooves reached your ears. The soldiers parted and bowed deep. On a tall black horse sat Capitano. Even with his face hidden by his black helmet, you could feel his intense gaze.

The stallion came to a halt and his rider dismounted. The snow crunched underneath his heels as he made his way towards you. His height towering over your trembling form. “You are all dismissed” he barked out. The soldiers bowed before they marched down the hill.

He stayed quiet for what felt like an eternity. The ice cold wind howling against the tree tops. The dark haired man finally spoke “You broke my trust. Criminals deserve to be punished.”

With a swift motion he threw you over his shoulder and held you in place with his arm. He mounted his horse and squeezed his heels against the animal’s flank.

The Harbinger’s hold on you was tight and as suffocating as his presence. As you watched the landscape blur together you realised that you would never escape him.

Childe

The sound of children’s laughter could be heard in the distance. The small fishing village Ajax’s family resides in was remote. The river that ran across it ice cold and filled to the brim with fish. You crept as quickly as you could between the trees that surround the village. To your dismay Childe’s childhood home was just by the border which meant that the red head knew the woods like the back of his hand.

You winced as you heard Teucer calling out for his brother. The little child had noticed your disappearance.

You picked up your speed and ran as fast as your legs could carry you. It was difficult with the heavy snow, but you had to keep going.

A flash of red stopped you in your tracks. You quickly hid behind a rock and held your breath.

“It’s not nice to run away” a chirpy voice said. Childe.

Of course he found you. It was only a matter of time. His soft laughter rang throughout the woods. He was close. Too close.

Suddenly he jumped onto the rock you had hidden behind. You yelped and backed away. He grinned as he looked down on you. His eyes wide and crazed. “If you wanted to play hide and seek why didn’t you just say so?” he laughed. His laughter chilling.

He jumped down and landed just a few centimetres from your legs. He bent down and dragged you to your feet. “Teucer, Tonia and Anthon are all waiting for you back home. You wouldn’t want to disappoint them would you?” he tilted his head and faked a sad expression.

He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly. “When we get home after our visit here, I will never let you leave my side. Is that understood?” his voice low. He chuckled as he pulled back to study your expression. “That frightened look of yours is really something. Makes me wanna eat you up” he kissed your cheek. “Don’t make me lose my cool, okay?”

Cyno

The sun was bright and high. The heat was unbearable and you regretted not seeking shade. The sand danced across the dune as the wind gave you some mercy from the heat.

In front off you on the scorching sand laid the lifeless bodies of the eremites that had helped you with your escape from the general. Blood coloured the sand red and the ruins surrounding you were splattered in red. The metallic sand made you dizzy.

Cyno stood before the bodies with his back turned to you. His white hair was coated in red. His strong muscles made him look like a god as he stood there with his bloodied spear. He turned to you. His face blank.

“I am sorry you had to see that” his expression apologetic.

He planted the spear in the ground and walked towards you slowly like he was afraid of scaring you. He squatted down so that he was on your eye level. You pulled your legs towards you as much as you could.

“Why did you run away?”

You only stared at him with big eyes. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. His head piece long discarded. “The desert is a dangerous place. You have no idea how scared I was when I noticed your disappearance” his eyes sad. “When I saw you among those eremites… I have never felt such anger. I had no choice but to eliminate them. Those who try to take you away from me deserves punishment. I did the right thing with ridding the world of such people” his hands was trembling in anger.

“I will make sure no one tries to take you away from me again. I will always be by your side” he kissed your tears away with a soft smile.

Dainsleif

Dainsleif had long lost his sanity. At least when it came to you. That much was clear.

You had just managed to escape him while he slept. The ruin you had chosen for your resting place for the night was eerie quite. Even the monsters were gone. You would have found it weird had you not been on the run. You manoeuvred through the dark ruins as fast as you could. After a while you made it out.

Your relived expression fell as you took in your surroundings. The monsters you had disappeared were now standing in front of you. You slowly backed away as you thought up an escaped plan. Just as you were about to make a run for it, dark blue power lit up the area in front of you. With movements faster then what your eyes could see, the monsters were slain.

The blond traveler looked at you with a look that sent shivers down your spine. He flicked off the blood that coated his blade as he made his way towards you.

“I expected more from you. To believe you so ignorantly took the bait is truly disappointing” he shook his head. “But on the plus side, I have now proved to you that you will never make it without me. Let me be your protector. Let me take care of you” he kneeled in front of you as he took your small hand in his and kissed it gently.

You could only cry silent as the Twilight Sword led you inside the ruins. Dainsleif was a man of his word and you knew very well that he would never break his promise to himself.

Diluc

The winery was a beautiful place. When you first arrived you thought it looked like something straight out from a fairytale. You could not be more wrong as you soon learned.

Diluc was a desperate man. He had tricked himself into believing he was your saviour and he would do anything in order to protect you. If he had to kill someone in order to do so he would not bat an eye.

You had escaped through the cellar door and out the cellar window. You had been unsure if you fitted through the window, but to your surprise you fitted like a glove. The moon casted a pale light against the manor and it made you pause in your steps by its beauty.

The stables were empty just as you had expected. You tacked up the chestnut mare Diluc had gifted you. You kissed her forehead as you collected yourself. He would come after you.

As the mare galloped through the dense forest you could hear the distant shouts from Diluc. You gritted your teeth as you made your horse run faster.

Just as you thought you had made it, you heard the dreaded screams of his hawk. You had lost.

Your eyes were heavy as you slowly gained consciousness. You were tied to the desk chair inside his bedroom. Your bindings was of the finest red silk. You shivered at the similarities between you and a neatly wrapped present. In front of you were a highly distressed red haired man. He was walking back and forth, muttering something to himself.

“How could I be so careless as to not look better after her… I am a fool” he hissed to himself.

After a few minutes he stopped and turned to you. His expression softened as he cupped your face. “I apologise for the bindings, but it is necessary. You could be hurt you know?” his voice soft, but serious. “I will never let any harm happen to you. Ever.”

Dottore

The doctor’s blood red eyes always sent shivers down your spine. Even though he was human, he seemed like anything but. His embraces felt like a cage and his sweet words like poison. It didn’t take you long to understand why he was the most feared man in the entirety of Teyvat.

Dottore held you within his estate and refused to let you leave. Heavily armed guards guarded your chambers. You had tried to convince them to let you go and the next day you were delivered their served head on a platter. Dottore was cruel that much was obvious.

You knew you could never outsmart Dottore. He was one of the smartest beings on the plant and he never pretended not to be. If you couldn’t trick Dottore, you would trick the servants.

The long hallways in Dottore’s mansion were dark and empty. You sneaked through the manor as quietly as possible. With the key you had stolen clutched in your hand you made your way to the garden door. You twisted the key in the keyhole and pushed the door open. Cold air filled your lungs. Your eyes lit up at the sight of the snow filled landscape.

Your freedom was however short lived.

“If you take a step outside of that door I will behead this woman” a deep voice reached your ears.

You froze and slowly turned. There in the doorway stood the Harbinger. His raven-like mask were nowhere to be found. His hand was wrapped around the neck of the maid who you had stolen the key from. Her face was filled with fear and she looked at you pleadingly.

As much as you longed for freedom, you could not bear to have the blood from someone else on your hands. You walked back in and locked the door with a lowered head. You placed the key in Dottore’s waiting hand.

He slipped the key onto his pocket with a smile. “Good girl.”

“However…. I cannot let such an action go unpunished” he tck-ed. He threw the maid across the room. Her back hit the wall with a loud thud.

“I have given you all a specific rule you all must follow. I have made what would happen if you would ever break it quite clear, have I not?” his voice as cold as the unforgiving landscape that surrounded the estate. The maid muttered a “yes lord Harbinger”.

The blue haired man scoffed and turned to you. “I suppose I should teach you a lesson” his eyes held nothing but cold determination.

With three long strides he stopped in front of the maid. Her eyes filled with horror. He pulled out a sharp and sleek scalpel and slight her throat in a precise motion. “You deserve much more suffering, but I don’t want me darling to be witness to that so this would have to do” he sneered at the maid as she gurgled on her own blood.

He threw the scalpel and wiped his hands on his pants. “Let’s get you back to your chambers shall we.”

He snaked his arm around your waist and led you out of the hallway. “I trust that you will stop your escape attempts and accept that you belong here with me” his voice smooth like honey.

Gorou

The general of the resistance was a generous man. He always looked after his soldiers and treated them with respect and you were no different. He loved you with his entire being, that much was certain.

He never brought you to the frontlines. You were to stay at the base with a few trusted soldiers that looked after you. They all knew about your situation, but no one cared. They all were just glad that the general had someone who brought him comfort through the tough times.

As the soldiers exchanged posts you were able to sneak out of the cabin. You did not get far before a certain brunette had tracked you down.

His big cerulean eyes wide as his whole body tensed. “Why are you out here?” his big eyes not blinking once. His ears alert.

“You didn’t try to leave right? It must be something else? Right?” his voice raised. His fangs visible as he sneered.

He gripped your hand tightly as he dragged you back to the camp. “I’m sorry sweetheart, but I need to keep you safe” he looked at you with a sad expression as he hurried back to the camp.

The hybrid had always been extremely overprotective to the point it suffocated you. He always told he did what he did for your own good.

The next nights he held you tightly in his arms as he slept. His fluffy tail wrapping around your leg in a protective manner.

Heizou

The detective had locked you up in his own home, claiming it was a way to protect you. Every door and every window (and some drawers) had complicated locks on. Only a few doors and drawers were unlocked.

Heizou was out on a detective job so you were left all alone. This was your chance to get out. You knew all to well that the detective most likely would track you down, but you could not let such an opportunity pass.

The puzzle that was the lock-mechanism on the front door seemed different. Heizou did have the habit of changing them so you didn’t think too much of it. The puzzle was tricky, but after a while you were able to figure it out. The door unlocked and you squealed in joy.

You hadn’t come far before someone wrapped their arms around your shoulders. “Boo” he whispered into your ears causing you to yelp.

“Aww… Did I scare you now?” his tone mocking. He leaned his entire body weight onto you causing you to stumble. He chuckled at your shuffling and poked your cheek. “I’m glad you passed my little test sweetheart” he purred.

You regained your senses and pushed him off. You glared at him as he laughed.

“You really are entertaining aren’t you? You thought that I would ever let you go… Now that’s just too funny!” he wiped his tears as he laughed.

“With your naivety, you are better of with me” he grabbed your arm and pulled you close. Your noses almost touching. He cupped your cheeks and smiled at you gently. “I will take care of you, darling.”

Itto

The brutish oni was really clingy and always felt the need to have you glued to his side. Getting alone time was nearly impossible, but you managed when he was out organising a onikabuto match.

While the white haired man was busy making posters with his gang, you snuck out of the house. Which was surprisingly easy when he wasn’t home. The city was lively and the lit lanterns flickering in the wind. Stars littering the clear night sky. You sneaked among the multiple food stalls. The smell of fried fish filling the air.

The sound of a booming laughter made your limbs freeze to the ground. You could recognise that laughter everywhere. You turned your head and your eyes widened in fear at your confirmed suspicion. Before a dessert stall stood Itto with Mamoru. “We gotta get something for the gang. You brought money right?” the oni nudged Mamoru who muttered a “yes boss”.

You quickly hid behind a small group of someone who stood before the boba shop. Luckily you where shorter than the group and you were able to stay hidden.

“Wait… Why does it smell like [Name]?”

“I don’t know boss. Isn’t she home?”

Your heartbeat hammered against your ribs. You carefully peaked through the group. Itto was sniffing in the air, the action almost comical, had it not been for your predicament. His closed eyes snapped open. His red slit eyes met yours. His body tense like a hunting dog. His expression filled with shock. “Doll?” he called out.

Your feet moved before you even registered it. You sprinted down the street. Your sandals clicking against the ground. You didn’t need to look back to know that Itto was right behind you.

You jumped down the railing and you were thankful that the jumps wasn’t too high as you landed on the soft grass. Just as you made it behind a small building, a big hand grabbed your arm. You lost your balanced and was pulled flushed against a broad chest.

“Why are you outside?” his voice eerily quiet. “I thought I made it clear that it’s dangerous, you are not a big strong oni. Humans are so fragile and weak” he pulled you into a tight hug. His face pressed against your soft hair. “You better listen to me next time… or I would have to tie you up” he pressed a kiss on top of your head followed by a soft “I love you”.

Kaeya

The Calvary Captain’s office was quite save from the sound of the captain’s pen scribbling. He hadn’t acknowledged you since he brought you inside his spacious office. His silence was scarier than his anger. He continued to write his report about some mission. The grandfather clock in the corner ticking.

After what felt like an eternity Kaeya looked up at you. He folded his hands and leaned his chin on them. His lone eye looking straight at you, causing a shiver to run down your spine. “You broke my trust did you not?” his honeyed voice terrifying. He tck-ed. “I am disappointed, but not surprised” he sighed. “I should punish you” he unfolded his hands and drummed two fingers across the rim of his empty glass.

“Why would I want to be locked up in some apartment?” you spat at the smug knight. His lips stretched up into a uncanny smile.

“Oh my…. You are more naive than what I gave you credit for” he chuckled. He stood up suddenly, causing the chair legs to scrap against the hardwood floor. He walked towards you like a stalking wolf. His eyes hungry and brimming with madness.

He stopped before you and leaned down on the arms of your chair. His face close to yours. Too close. His crystal blue eye scanned yours. You felt completely naked underneath his gaze. “Did you really think I wouldn’t know how you so foolishly conceived the knights guarding the house?” he laughed. His laughter sickening. “I dealt with them as soon as they reported back to me. It was a pain cleaning of the blood from my new boots, but some sacrifices must be made” he sighed.

He grasped your chin and leaned closer “I will never ever let you go.”

He straightened up. His expression lighthearted. “Now let’s get something to eat shall we?” he pulled you up with a tight grip. You looked down on his boots as he dragged you out of his office, noticing the few blood speckles he had missed.

Kaveh

The house Kaveh had constructed for you two was like a maze. With many corridors and doors, it was easy to get lost. He had built you both a home where he could play out his fantasy. He had kept you locked away in the mansion for months. Kaveh said it was to keep you safe and away from prying eyes.

You tried to force the window open for the 10th time, but to no avail. The window was still only a few centimetres open. Kaveh had proudly showed you the windows he had constructed that would not open more than a few centimetres. You had hoped that the design of the master architect had failed, but to your disappointment they had not.

Your eyes scanned the room till the landed on the doors to the winter garden. The glass were delicate and beautiful. You studied it closely till you came to the conclusion that they might be fragile enough to shatter. You picked up a stool that were standing in the corner. You lifted the furniture over your head and smashed the windows with all your might. The glass doors shattered into million pieces, looking like glittering diamonds. You dropped the stool and climbed through the window. You hissed as you cut yourself on the jagged pieces of glass that were still standing.

The winter garden was cozily decorated and it almost made you sad to leave it. The door out to the garden was locked which wasn’t a surprise. To your luck one of the miniature stone statues that resembled birds of all sizes, was perfect for shattering windows. It almost broke your heart at the thought of shattering the beautiful stained glass walls, but you had no choice. With all your might you managed to break it.

You ran as fast as you could through the garden. You had to find the exit before Kaveh came home from his meeting with his new client. As you were about to climb the tall fence that surrounded the property, a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you down. You back hit the soft grass and straddling you were Kaveh. His eyes filled with betrayal and anger.

“How could you?!” his voice loud. His grip on your shoulders tightened. “After all that I have done for you?!” his features twisted into rage and hurt.

You tried to defend yourself, but your words died on you tongue. You had never seen Kaveh that angry. Fear filled you entire being and you felt sick. You casted a last look at the flush forest behind the fence. You knew that this would be your last time outside for a very long time.

Kazuha

With your breath ragged you ran through the dense forest. You had finally managed to escape the white haired samurai. You just needed to reach the beach and board one of the fishing boats that were docked at the dock.

You finally made it to the clearing that lead down to the beach. You waved at the fishermen and they turned to greet you. The dock was old and badly maintained. Splinters poking out and threatening to stab your feet. Just as you were about to ask the captain on the rather small boat, a gust of wind nearly knocked you down.

Red maple leaves fell gently down form the sky. The man in front of you moved quickly and elegantly. His movements like a dance, completely ensnaring you with his beauty. Crimson rain littered the air before it splattered your face. The warm liquid brought you quickly to your senses. Kazuha swiftly slashed his katana, slitting the throat of the captain. The red eyed man landed gently and wiped his blade with a handkerchief. The white fabric staining red in an instant.

He turned his gaze to you. His lips bore a gentle smile. In a blink of an eye he was right in front of you. He lifted his hand and gently wiped the bloodstains of your skin. “What is my delicate flower doing here?” his voice soft.

You swallowed. You had yet to let you eyes wander to the slaughtered boat crew. Kazuha’s eyes scanned yours. His long eyelashes fluttered. Tears ran down your cheeks in crystal clear rivers. You shoved him away as hard as you could. He stumbled back, but you knew he held back his strength. He had let you push him. “Get away from me!” your voice weak and trembling. You choked out a cry as your fell down to the wooden floor. The wood was soaked with red blood. You let your eyes wander. You wanted to throw up at the sight of the dead boatmen.

“You know I can’t do that. Without me you’re lost. I need to protect you. You are the only light in my life and I know we will live happily ever after” his voice was pained and vulnerable. His calloused hands gripped your shoulders in desperation. “I am never going to let you leave me” his smile crazed and not fitting his saddened eyes.

He wrapped his arms around you in an embrace that reminded you of a cage. His face nestled into your soft hair. “I will make you happy, just you wait and see.”

Lyney

A swarm of cards flew over your face, momentarily blinding you. You ducked your head, but lost balance as something caught your leg. It was a makeshift snare made of multiple colourful handkerchiefs. Playful giggles reached your ears.

“The surprised look on your face is to die for! So adorable!” his voice gleeful.

You quickly got back on your feet and was about to make a run for it when Lyney tackled you. You landed with a groan, the cobblestone hard against your back. Lyney pinned your hands to the ground as he sat on top of your midriff. He grinned as he looked down on you.

“It’s no fun in you escaping you know?” he tilted his head. He kissed your nose before he jumped off you. “You could at least be a little more creative” he shook his head in faux disappointment.

“Asshole” you sneered at him.

His cat like eyes crinkled in amusement at your remark. “How rude” he snickered.

Just as sudden as he had jumped you, his expression changed. His eyes colder than ice and his mouth a thin line. He grabbed your wrist and dragged you after him.

He unlocked the house he, his siblings and you resided in. He quickly locked the door after him and dragged you into your bedroom. He let go of your hand. You quickly stumbled as far away from him as you could.

“Why can’t you let me have nice things? Why [Name]?” his eyes narrowed. It was in moments like this that you remembered his role in The Fatui. His eyes held a dangerous glint that dared you to cross him.

Your eyes widened in horror. “No, no, no… Please Lyney!” you begged. Tears trialing down your cheeks and pooling down onto the soft carpet.

“You gave me no choice. This is the consequences of your own actions” he shushed you as he clasped the chain onto your left ankle. He gently kissed your tears away. “It’s only temporary, okay?” he gently stroked your cheekbone. “I love you darling, don’t forget that.”

Neuvillette

Even though the judge bore aesthetically similarities with the sea otters that lived in the Fontanian waters, he was not like them at all. They were sweet playful creatures, and the judge a selfish cruel man. His good reputation made you sick. If only the citizens of Fontaine knew him like you did.

He had kept you hidden and locked up in his beautiful home. That was until you had managed to convince the Melusine that was in charge of looking after you that day. At first she refused to let you out, but when you told her that you were going to buy a present for Neuvillette she yielded. If it was under other circumstances you would have felt bad for tricking her.

The bustling streets of The Court of Fontaine a familiar sight. You breathed in the air. Oh how you had missed the smell of new baked goods and the music of street musicians.

You knew it would not take long before Neuvillette would notice your disappearance. You had to get out of the city and onto an aqua bus before he sent the Gardes after you.

You bought a ticket with the money you had managed to steal from Neuvillette. You quickly made it up the stairs to the aqua bus station. The aqua bus was just about to depart when a group of Gardes blocked the exit behind you. You leaped for the bus only to collide with a broad chest. You could recognise that scent no matter where in Teyvat you found yourself.

You slowly raised your head. Neuvillette looked down at you with a furious expression. You had only seen that expression when he had caught you chatting with other men (it didn’t matter to him that your conversation was only friendly and nothing more). His lilac eyes bored into yours, stripping your soul naked.

“I told you to never leave the residence” his voice low and lazed with anger.

His horns glowing light blue. His hands balled into fists by his sides, clearly trying to ground himself. You lowered your head.

“We are going back at once and you better not make any commotions” his hand turned you around and firmly guided you to the lift. One of the Gardes reached out his hand in order to size you properly. “Get your filthy hand away from her” Neuvillette’s voice boomed.

The Garde tried to defend himself but was cut short by Neuvillette. “Leave at once or you will regret it” his teeth bared. His sharp fangs fully visible. The Garde bowed and quickly left.

Neuvillette’s hand tightened its hold on your shoulder. “When we get home I demanded an explanation as to why you left your home” he whispered into your ear.

Pantalone

Pantalone was sitting on a expensive leather chair. His shoes polished in a way you could see your own reflection in the black leather. In his gloved hands was a black pistol with details in white gold.

In front of him on the cold polished hardwood floor knelt a man. His hands were bound behind his back. His eyes were looking pleadingly up at the Harbinger. He was a guard whom you had befriended. He had so kindly helped you escape before you both were caught red handed by the ninth Harbinger.

The black haired Harbinger turned his face towards you. “This is what he gets for taking what’s mine” his voice as smooth as velvet. His eyes dark and his smile cunning. He turned towards the bound man. “I must admit that I am a rather greedy man. I really hate when people try to take what’s mine” he sighed and clicked his tongue. He flicked the safety and pointed the pistol at the guards head.

“No!” you screamed as you desperately tried to get lose from your silk bindings.

Pantalone shushed you gently. “He asked for it my love” his voice sweet as sugar.

“Any last words?” he smiled. “Hmm… I don’t think you deserve any” he fired the pistol before the poor guard had the time to open his mouth. Pantalone’s smile stretched into a sickening grin. The man’s brain splatters onto the expansive rug.

You screamed as you tried to swallow the bile. “How could you?! You disgusting monster! I hate you!” you screamed while thick tears ran down your cheeks.

“Don’t cry my dear. He’s not worth shedding your lovely tears over” Pantalone kneeled in front of you. His eyes gentle. “I will make sure that no other men like that ever gets between us. You are mine and nothing will ever change that” his voice low.

Pierro

The sorcerer had forced you to your knees with his magic. You could feel the power tugging at your mind and it hurt. His pale eyes boring into yours. “Have you forgotten your place?” his gruff voice echoed inside the ballroom.

You glared up at him unable to do anything else. He kneeled before you and harshly lifted your chin. His expression harsher than the unforgiving climate outside. “I must say I’m utterly disappointed in your behaviour. You should be ashamed.”

You tried to get control over your limbs, but to no avail. Your words died on your tongue and you were unable to make any sound.

The white haired man scoffed and released his hold on you. His magic released you completely and you crawled backwards and away from him. Creating as much distance as possible.

The Jester rose to his feet and dusted off invisible dust from his elegant robe. “If you were anyone else I would have executed you for your crime. Do not forget that our relationship was blessed directly blessed from Her Majesty Herself” he sneered.

He hauled you up to your feet, his iron grip bruising. He dragged you down the corridors and up the many stairs to your chambers. He slammed the door open and dragged you inside.

“Think over what you have done. I don’t take such humiliation lightly” his eyes narrow as he looked down on you. “Don’t think you will ever get away. You belong to me and that’s final” with that he closed the door and locked it making you all alone.

Sethos

You ran over the dunes as fast as you could. You had to be fast. Behind you you could hear Sethos voice as he called for you. To your misfortune the free spirited man was fast. Extremely fast. Your sandals were filled with sand, but you couldn’t care less.

Suddenly it became quiet. Too quiet. You hid behind a rock formation and listened. Suddenly a figure slid down the dune to your left and leaped on top of you. He was precise enough that make sure you landed on the sand and not the rock behind you. His wild hair rustling in the wind.

The sight in front of you reminded you of the time when he swept you away and locked you away inside the temple. He had first gotten to know you when he visited Sumeru City. He had told you it was love at first sight and he asked you to come and visit the desert with him. You were taken aback by his impulsiveness, but you soon grew accustom to it.

“If you wanted to play hide and seek you could have just said so” his entire weight on you. He was silent for a few moments. His crystal green eyes scanning yours. You could see his gears turning. “Don’t tell me you tried to run away from me…? You would never do something like that? Right?” his voice lazed with disbelief and desperation.

In a swift movement you were brought to you feet. His hold on you right and you wondered if he thought you would fly away if he let go. “Let’s get back to the temple” his voice back to its jovial self, but his eyes clouded with obsession and desperation.

Thoma

The white mop mopped over the hardwood floor in a fast motion. The white colour quickly staining red. A crimson red pool of blood was spilled across the floor. The sight made you sick. Bile raising up in your throat. You were sitting in the coroner of the room , hugging your knees. The blonde man stopped his mopping and raised his head and looked at you. His face splattered with blood. He sighed and leaned the mop against the wall.

“I am so sorry you had to see that, my angle” his green eyes pleading. He crouched in front of your trembling form. He gently caressed your cheek.

The friendly and kind housekeeper was gone and replaced by a green eyed monster that slaughtered anything in its path. He had beheaded the kind men that helped you escape from the Kamisato estate.

“I am wounded that you tried to leave me. What did I do wrong?” his eyes glossy.

You locked me away you wanted to say, but you kept your mouth shut.

“My master has been kind and let us stay here together and this is your gratitude?” his voice slightly raised. His eyes scanned over your form and landed on your bloodied nightdress. “I have to get that off” he muttered as he quickly rose. His movements frantic as he looked for a washcloth.

“My gratitude?” your voice shaky, but loud. “You have taken everything away from me!” you stood up. Your legs shaky.

Thoma’s eyes narrowed. “Watch your tongue” his voice cold.

You swallowed. You understood now better than anyone why so many feared the “fixer”.

His hold on the washcloth tight. His knuckles whiter than snow. “Go to your room and change. I will wash your nightdress later” he spoke through gritted teeth.

Your colour drained from your face as you hurried to your room. Your bedroom seemed more like a prison than anything else.

Tighnari

The forest watcher had always lectured you about various plants and their effects and benefits. At first you thought it was boring, but after awhile you learned to use it to your advantage. Taking herbs from Tighnari’s beloved collection was tricky, but not impossible. You had read through every single book he had on botany. Your plan was bulletproof.

Tighnari had gently sipped on the cup of tea you had brewed for him while he read through some reposts. He had then fallen limp over the kitchen table. You checked his pulse and breathes out in relief when you felt his pulse against your fingers. You wanted to escape from the obsessed fox, not kill him.

You rummage through his pocket for his key. The key was heavy in your hand and it was almost a surreal feeling when you twisted it in the lock. The air fresh and welcoming. With a last look at the unconscious man you began your journey.

The rainforest was tricky to navigate in, but luckily you had stolen both a map and a compass from Tighnari. Yet again you were glad you paid attention to his boring lectures. The sound of branches snapping made you stop in your tracks. The hair on the back of your neck rose.

“Poisoning me…” his voice echoed through the treetops. “Your audacity is truly something” he sneered. “Look at me when I’m talking to you” his voice nearer.

You slowly turned around and were met with a angry hazel eyes. His long ears pinned back in anger. His arms folded over his chest.

“The rainforest is dangerous. Let’s get back” you could see he was holding back his fury. His jaw clenched. He groaned and dragged a hand over his face. “I guess I have no choice…” he sighed as he stalked towards you.

Quicker thank you could register he had trapped you within his arms. “I will never let you go. I’m just trying to protect you” he whispered against your ear.

Something pricked your neck. Your eyes widened and darted to Tighnari’s. “It had to be down. Consider it… pay back” he supported your body as you lost consciousness.

Venti

The anemo archon was an eerie man. He was all smiles and friendly laughter among the crowd disguised as Venti the bard, but with you he was like a completely different person. Sure he was still easygoing, but his obsession and possession overshadowing anything else. He had told you many times with a playful smirk that he was undoubtedly the weakest archon. You never believed him. You had seen with your very own eyes what he was capable of doing to those he thought was undeserving of your attention, but you had yet to see his full potential. Though you must admit that you rather did not wish to witness that.

He kept you in the ruins of Stormterror’s lair. He had made the ruin as liveable as possible and even quite cozy. He treated you like royalty and gave you everything except freedom. You thought it was rather stupid considering he was the god of freedom.

Escaping the ruin was almost completely impossible considering the wind shields that surrounded it and the dragon that acted as a guard. When you finally managed to escape and run over the grassy meadows you were so happy you cried.

Your tears clouded your vision causing you to become less aware of your surroundings.

Strong wind slammed against causing you to lose balance. There in front of you were Barbados. He was not in his usual clothing, but rather in a godly outfit. White big wings flapping behind him. His cerulean eyes glowing intensely in the night. He was completely silent, but you felt the anger oozing out from him.

You were completely frozen to the ground and you were unsure if it was his doing or your fear taking over. You wanted to explain yourself, but your voice failed you completely.

With a gust of wind you were swept up into his arms. His arms strong and squeezed you flushed against him. His wings flapped silently as he soared through the air. High up in the air you were able to see Mondstadt City and you quickly came to the realisation that you would probably never step a foot inside its gates again.

Wanderer/Scara

In front off you was a raging man. His eyes wide and filled with fury. His hands held anemo power which he sliced through the merchants that had guided you through the tick rainforest. Wanderer’s hair was slicked back with blood. He delivered the last strike to the merchant before he landed. He slowly turned around to face you. His hands shaking with anger.

You opened your mouth, but quickly shut your mouth at his raised hand. “Those lowlife who think they can take you away from me” he laughed manically. “How dumb can you be?” Wanderer sneered through laughter. “Because you would never leave me right? After all I have been through? Right?” his eyes crazed as he continued to spew nonsense. “We are destined to be together. It’s my right. How dare they to take that away from me?! I should revive them just so that I could kill them again” his laughter sounded almost forced.

He wrapped his arms around you. You could feel tears against your neck as he wept. You were astonished by his vulnerability. It almost made you pity him. Just almost.

He quickly regained his composure and roughly wiped his tears on his sleeve. “Let’s go home…” his voice distant.

The journey back had been quite. When you finally arrived back he shoved you inside. His eyes wide and intense. “You have no idea how much I wanna lock you up in a cage right now” he muttered. His porcelain white hand tightly gripping yours. “I will make sure so that you never leave me. I need you. I need you so much it hurts. So don’t ever try and get away.”

Wriothesley

You had long planned your escape from The Fortress of Meropide. Unlike the other inmates you were completely innocent. You had been wrongfully imprisoned on the request of Wriothesley. You had gained the trust of some of you fellow inmates and they promised to help you escape. You had chose the pipe cleaning day as your day of escaping. All went smoothly and exactly as planned.

The only step left in your plan was descend into the waters that the pipes were connected too and swim out to freedom. After that you had to avoid the detectors, but you were confident in your diving abilities.

As you were saying your thanks to the kind inmates, the sound of heavy boots against metal echoed in the pipes. In the opening of the pipe were Wriothesley. His imposing figure sending shivers down you spine.

The metal decorations on his outfit clattering with each step. The handcuffs on his hip catching the light. His icy eyes held an unreadable emotion. “Well well… What might this ruckus be?” he tilted his head and placed his hands on his hips. His tone held a dangerous edge to it. Wriothesley eyes glued onto yours and completely ignoring the others.

A bottomless pit formed in your stomach and you almost threw up. You swallowed the taste of vomit. Your freedom was so close, yes so very far.

“Are you aware your sentences are going to be so much longer?” his lips curled up into a little smirk. “I thought you were smarter than this” with two steps he reached you. He hooked off his cuffs and cuffed your wrists. “It seems you need a more secure cell… Luckily I know just the one” he leaned closer to your ear “I will make sure you always stick to my side”.

You had never regretted something more than your little escape attempt. The new so called cell was a bedroom connected to the Duke’s living quarters. Your freedom had never been so distant as it was now.

Xiao

You ran as fast as you could. The landscape blurring together as you navigated through the forest. You had to escape him. Or at least try. Tue bamboo forest was dense and dark. Your human eyes struggled to see clearly. You could hear birds fleeing in the distance. He was close.

You had ran away when you learned that he had slaughtered the man who had so kindly gifted you sun pork buns. The adepti had let you run first, which surprised you. Even though you didn’t understand why, you were grateful for your head start.

Suddenly a green black cloud appeared in front off you. You tried to turn in your heel to flow, but was stopped when a hand grabbed your collar. You were momentarily unable to breath. It was only when he loosened his grip that you were able to gasp for air.

“I don’t understand you mortals. I only do what I have to protect you. I give you everything you need and more” he sounded confused and annoyed.

“Without me you would not have managed to survive. At all” he spun you around so you could face him. “Did me killing that man hurt you that much? I have killed many of you near acquaintances and you never batted an eye…” his voice trailed off as he was lost in thought. “Could it be that you never realised? Never mind. It doesn’t matter now” he sighed.

At the thought of him killing your near friends without you knowing made you sob helplessly. He only started at you in confusion.

He clicked his tongue before he hauled you over his shoulder. “I need to ask Madame Ping for a tea pot it seems…” his voice a frustrated groan.

Zhongli

You had sought shelter at a kind older couple. You needed to regain your energy before you fled the city. The woman was kind and gladly cooked for you. She completely denied your help. You stayed at their house for two weeks before the older woman knocked at your bedroom door and told you a friend of her husband was coming to visit.

The atmosphere in the living room was as tense as it could get. In front of you were Zhongli. He was the friend the couple had spoken so warmly about. The brunette was sitting in the sofa besides the woman, one of his legs over the other. His hand elegantly holding a cup of tea. His reptile eyes staring you down intensely.

You felt like sinking into the floor. Your hands trembling as you took a sip of the tea. The bitter taste doing nothing to soothe your nerves.

“I don’t know if you are aware, but I and miss [Name] know each other’s very well” his smile sharp. To hear your husband speaking in such manner made your heart beat against your chest.

You knew it was unwise to go against Morax and his contracts, but you had no choice. He had tricked you into signing the contract that would imprison. Zhongli had terrified you before you knew of his identity as the Geo Archon, but when you found out about his identity you were absolutely petrified.

Zhongli hummed at a joke the man had told. His golden eyes never leaving yours. His lips twisted up into a grin which revealed his sharp fangs. With the golden light from the sunset outside he looked even more inhuman than ever before. You felt small and utterly helpless before him. You dreaded his punishment that you knew would income when he brought you back.

After an hour and an half had past Zhongli excused himself. “I must take my leave now. [Name] you should come with” his order clear as day. He smiled to the couple and bowed in courtesy.

You swallowed and nodded. You thanked the couple for their hospitality and left with Zhongli.

When you were out of earshot he turned to you. “A broken contract is no laughing matter my dear” his hand gripping yours. “I will make it clear to you when we get back who you belong to” his voice deep and determined.

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sinfulcries · 2 months ago

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I WANNA FUCK YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL! / GOJO SATORU

AUTHORS NOTE: wow dylan’s writing again after a million years 🤓 i could not miss out on halloween so what better way to celebrate than to destroy gojo’s ass? i miss you guys lots and i miss getting all creative nd being able to write again after dealing with so many stressful things irl <\3 this is pretty tame compared to my previous smuts and this is like also a month old so my apologies 🙂‍↕️

CONTENT WARNINGS! knife play, overstimulation, pet names (doll, sweetheart,) slasher reader x victim gojo, implied marathon sex

"That's it, baby, spread those pretty legs f'me." A dark chuckle escaped your lips as the rough tips of your fingers roamed the smooth expanse of Satoru's legs, opening them wide enough to reveal his leaking cock lying hard and useless on his flat stomach. Satoru could only muster a whine in response, trying to pull you in deeper whilst your thick cock nudged teasingly against his puckering hole. "Please," He whimpered prettily, his pale cheeks flushing red with arousal and hunger.

The white haired man didn't need to see your face to know that you were grinning down at him sadistically underneath the ghostface mask you were wearing, and it only made his cock twitch with need as you pinned him down onto the plush mattress— rendering him utterly helpless against you. "I'm about to kill you and yet here you are begging for my cock." You laughed amusedly at the absurdity of the situation, making the poor man pout. "S'not fair you're so big that I wanna feel you in my guts."

Okay, Maybe you'd keep him as your slut instead with how desperate he was. Slender legs wrapping around your waist coaxing you to just fuck and claim him already.

"You're playing a dangerous game here, sweetheart." You growled through the cheap plastic of your mask, reaching down to push your thick fingers between Satoru's lips, his tongue instantly swirling around the thick digits getting them nice and wet as his gaze never left yours.

God, He was a filthy little thing, and you couldn't help but notice the way his hole clenched around nothing every time your free hand trailed the knife's blade teasingly against his inner thigh. Satoru pulled away from your fingers with a wet pop, glaring up at you through thick eyelashes. "Just put it in already." He growled impatiently, and you only responded by pressing the blade harder against his skin, the tip of the knife threatening to dig into his flesh.

Satoru only gulped in response at the action, a shiver running up his spine feeling the cold metal of your knife kissing his thigh. "Okay, okay— calm down." He tried to laugh off his insistent whining with a practiced grin however, you could see the lingering traces of fear swirling in those blue eyes. "Just be patient, doll." You murmured raspily, spreading the lube you had used earlier to finger his sweet little hole open with your thick fingers around his twitching rim.

You couldn't help but notice the way Satoru threw his head back against the pillows, his bruised chest heaving as you rubbed his lubed entrance messily. He was so sensitive. So easy to break. And the thought of splitting him open on your fat cock made it jut against his thigh with aching need.

Wasting no more time, you aligned the fat head of your cock in front of his wet hole before thrusting in with one brutal snap of your hips. Satoru's eyes widened impossibly, his hands scrambling to grip the headboard as a high pitched scream ripped past his throat.

"Fuck—! S..So big—!" He mewled, moving his hips in sync with the way you jackhammered into him like a cheap fleshlight. Satoru wrapped his legs around your waist weakly, trying to anchor himself with the way your fat cock battered his prostate— And as his screams and the wet squelch of skin against skin filled the room, the white haired man could slowly feel his brain melting with searing hot pleasure.

"Take it." You growled possessively, continuing to rut into his ass like a beast in rut, angling your hips to reach deeper inside of his hole. "D'you like that, doll? You've been beggin' for this all night."

Satoru could only nod frantically in response, his brain too mushy to form any coherent words. You could see a white creamy ring of cum forming at the base of your cock, the sight only fuelling you to pound your willing little victim until he passed out, still impaled on your unrelenting length.

"'S too much..!" He squealed, arching his back as your cock drilled in harder, rearranging his insides until they were moulded to fit your big cock. "Can't take it—! 'M-M gonna die..!" With a loud cry, his body started convulsing in your hold, trying to squirm away from the brutal onslaught of your merciless thrusts.

"Don't chicken out on me now, doll." You warned lowly, now pressing the cold edge of your knife against his throat, each thrust driving the blade closer to his jugular. "We have a long night ahead of us."

#sinfulcries works #top male reader #dark content #dom male reader #dom amab reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #gojo x male reader #gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x male reader smut #dom reader #sub gojo

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hughiecampbelle · 6 months ago

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The Boys Preference: Wearing Their Clothes

Requested: i followed you for succession and currently im the boys brainrotted so you wouldnt believe my excitement when i realised you wrote for the boys too!!!!! i want to request maybe hc on how the boys would react to reader wearing their sweater/tshirts - anon

A/N: My love, the brain rot is so real!!! When I tell you I have an entire folder of The Boys edits, I mean I am kicking my feet and giggling at these people covered in blood lol. Thank you for requesting! Please feel free to again, I absolutely love writing preferences! I hope you like it!!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

Butcher absolutely adores you wearing his coat. It drives him wild. It started one night where you two were alone, the group split up. While everyone else had their own jobs, you and Butcher were on surveillance. It was freezing out. He noticed the goosebumps on your arms. You swore you were fine, but he could tell you were putting up a front. Oi, just take it. Not wanting to blow your cover and fight, you put his coat around your shoulders, thanking him. It's a long night and you take shifts. When he catches you curled in a ball, his coat wrapped around you, it tugs at his heartstrings. Something about this image of you just makes him melt. After that, he's eager to see it again. Realizing this, you never turn down his offer. Now you basically have 50/50 custody. You like it. It's warm and worn, but it also smells like him and, when you're apart, remains a reminder that he's always looking out for you. Both M.M. and Frenchie are full of jokes when they catch you wearing it, but Annie and Hughie find it endearing.

Hughie loves that you wear his t-shirts and hates it. Not only do you look better in them than him, which is annoying enough, and now everyone finds them funny now that you're wearing them, but now he can never find the one shirt he wants to wear. It's either on your body or in your closet. Of course he would never stop you, he doesn't want you to stop, but he does wish there was a little bit more of a compromise. You wore it the first time you slept over. Your shirt had been discarded somewhere you couldn't find, but Hughie's was right there. He tried not to show it, he tried not to get caught smiling, but he was way too obvious. Something about seeing you in his shirt made his day, his life. It never gets old. When it's laundry day, most of your clothes end up being his. Now he has double the laundry. Still, it's worth it. His clothes always come back smelling like you. When they get ripped or torn from fights you apologize profusely, but he's just glad you're okay. Who cares about a stupid shirt?

Annie has always loved you in her clothes. When you moved in together, your clothes just sort of became jumbled. Neither of you felt the need to separate them, so you really can't tell if the sweater you're wearing is hers of yours. When she buys clothes she always makes sure you like what she's picking out so that you both can wear it. No one even noticed what you two were doing, that one day you'd be wearing a shirt and a few days later it would be her turn, it's just sort of become a thing. When something gets ripped or torn or covered in blood, you're the first to make jokes. I loved that sweater, you say, though Annie knows what you really mean is it's a stupid piece of clothing, you're just glad she's okay, that's all that matters. Your favorite thing is to look at pictures where, in one, you're wearing this sweater and, in the next, she is. Something about that puts a smile on your face.

M.M. feels a little insecure. You used to love wearing his shirts. Truthfully, no one can tell what's his and what's yours, your and his clothes are so blended. Since becoming in charge of The Boys, as close to a leader as possible, he's lost a lot of weight. Grown smaller, and his clothes no longer fit you. You of course still have his old shirts, but his new wardrobe just doesn't fit. You assure him it's just temporary. The anxiety, the OCD, it really hurts his appetite. He can't even think about food anymore. Still, realizing that you can no longer share, it makes him self-conscious. Something about you wearing his clothes made him think that he was there with you always, that this was a way to protect you, as silly as it might sound. Now that you wear your clothes more, he isn't there to save you. It just adds to his many worries. You assure him you'll be safe, you'll always come back to him, but he just can't help it. You make a point to wear his older shirts as much as possible, not wanting him to worry more than he does.

Frenchie literally can't tell when you're wearing his clothes vs. your own. His style is pretty eclectic. His pants alone are bright and patterned and, to his friends, a fashion offense. His clothes are rarely organized, so you end up picking through piles to find something specific. Most of the time you have to point out when you've got one of his jackets or shirts on. He of course thinks you look better in them than him and he makes it known. Your friends make fun of you and him for some of the outrageous outfits you put together. Everything is worn in and soft and smells like him, a mix of cologne and fabric softener and smoke. Not realizing, Frenchie wears your clothes, too. Only when you ask for a shirt back or where it is does he realize oh! so this belongs to you. Neither of you mind. It makes you happy seeing him wear your clothes. He definitely styles is better than you.

Kimiko's entire closet is all black. Not only is it easy to blend in with the crowd, and it all matches, but it can also hide the sight of blood. Neither of you can really tell whose shirt or pants or jacket belongs to who, considering most of your clothes are pretty identical. Still, she'll poke fun at you every so often when she realizes you've got on one of her shirts. Is that mine? She smiles. Is it? You didn't even realize. You always ask her if she wants it back, if she wants you to change, but she shakes her head. She tells you look good in it, badass even, and you shrug it off, though it means a lot. You and Kimiko both are still figuring out how relationships work. It takes a lot of trust, something neither of you were very well versed in. Sharing clothes is just another way you two show that you're a partnership. No one else can tell, but you can. That kind of attention would normally make alarm bells go off in your head, but you know Kimiko, you know she does it out of affection and not something more sinister.

Bonus! Homelander rarely, if ever, wears civilian clothes. If he's not in his suit, he's probably naked. You've never seen him in anything else. The only time he's done it was to see Sage and that was in secret. Still, you find a way to share by wearing his cape. Typically wrapped around you after you slip from the bed, in search of your own clothes, half-naked and embarrassed. He assured you you have never looked better. Homelander likes power. He likes when people listen to him, respect him, and show him their loyalty. You wearing his cape shows him all of that and more. He never thought he'd like you in his clothes, it's just another thing he's territorial about, but he's pleasantly surprised. Now he expects it. If you forget or just don't wear it, his ego is pretty wounded. You assure him it's nothing against him. Now you go out of your way to do so, knowing it makes him so happy.

Bonus! Soldier Boy feels such an attraction to you when you wear his clothes. He doesn't really wear anything but his suit, so one day you jokingly put it on. You filled it out differently than he did, but it didn't look horrible. When he saw you, he was all smiles. The first thing that comes to mind is wanting to take it off you *wink wink*. What was a joke is now something you do on special occasions, putting it on and parading around in it. The things he says are awfully dirty and make you laugh every time. You never thought something as silly and simple as putting on his suit would end up driving him this wild. You should have known, it makes perfect sense, but you just never realized. When he does, on rare occasions, wear regular clothes, he's the first to suggest that you share. It isn't as enticing as wearing his suit, but the attraction is still there. It makes him feel like you belong to him, that you want to show that off. Nothing matters more to him than that. Nothing makes him feel more seen.

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aliceramblez · 11 months ago

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Dating the Hazbin Hotel Residents 😈

Tags: GN!Reader, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Mature Topics (ie. Suicidal Thoughts, Alcohol Abuse, SA, etc), Spoilers For The Show, etc.

A/N: Ahhh yes, more brainriot for the pile 😌 I was more of a Helluva gal before the show aired, but now I gotta say these blorbos are a dear part of my heart! Hopefully y'all enjoy these as much as I did writing them!

Consider following my main blog @taruchinator for more solid content & feel free to leave a request here for future HCs~

Charlie 🌈

When the Happy Hotel first opened its doors and all of Hell started making a mockery of it, you were probably the only one who took it as a sign to try and improve from the low life that you were. It's not like you had anything else to live for, anyway.

As soon as you enter the building, you're immediately greeted by the bubbly Princess of Hell herself (along with a reluctant Angel Dust) who is more than happy to show you around and welcomes you with open arms.

You've never been shown this much kindness and sympathy for your situation before, so it naturally takes you aback and makes you wonder what the catch is. Turns out there's none and the Princess is probably the only sweet soul to live in this shithole.

As you grow closer, she asks you to drop the title and just call her Charlie. She also shares a bit about her situation and how her mother wanted to save sinners from the extermination each year, and now Charlie felt like it was her duty to continue this legacy until her dreams came true.

You can't help but feel touched over how much she cares, so you silently vow to yourself to help her in any way you can, just like she's done for you.

It doesn't take long before the two of you grow even closer and feelings begin to blossom, but you decide to ignore them since why would a Princess ever like someone like you?

But Charlie proves you wrong yet again, since one day she comes to you a blushing mess and confesses her own feelings, asking if you'd like to go out with her. You can't help but vocalize your shock since she could do so much better than a random sinner. She deserved better, too.

She looks at you with fondness in her eyes. “You've been by my side for so long and supported me every step of the way. Who wouldn't fall for someone like that?”

And thus, you are the luckiest person in Hell because you scored Charlotte Morningstar, and whoever says otherwise can get a knife to their throat.

She's the perfect definition of a sweet and patient girlfriend, never pushing you to do anything you aren't comfortable with (since you really aren't used to such adoration in a romantic relationship), but as soon as you give her the get-go, she'll be sure to shower you with as much affection as she can until the doubts in your mind disappear completely.

You aren't that far behind either. Albeit not as good as her, you do your best to be a comforting partner whenever she needs you. This is especially necessary after an extermination happens, which always leaves Charlie devastated and in need of a hug or words of encouragement because she doubts herself sometimes and wonders if the hotel is even working at all.

You remind her how it brought the two of you together, to which she smiles and agrees that at least something good has come out of it so far.

Vaggie 🎀

Both you and Vaggie used to work in the same legion under Adam with the rest of his exorcists. You knew of each other's existence, but didn't really talk much aside from whatever was needed in the midst of battle.

The day she spares a demon child's life, you're doing your rounds nearby and witness the whole exchange, including Lute coming over and ripping both an eye and Vaggie's wings for showing mercy. You don't know why, but it makes your blood boil.

“HEY! What are you doing?! It was just a kid, why not let it slide?”

And just like that, you become a target of Lute's rage as well, being ripped from your angelic status along with receiving a few nasty cuts, yet surprisingly not as bad as Vaggie herself.

Once the two of you are left to die, you immediately try to tend the girl's wounds with whatever you can. Vaggie can only stare in disbelief at what you'd done and questions why you even did so in the first place—now you were stuck just like she was.

“Guess I just don't like seeing injustice... Who knew Heaven could be so fuckin' shitty?”

You both laugh at the irony of it all, and that's when luck is finally on your side as Charlie finds you in the dirty alley and brings you back to the hotel to heal properly.

For the next three years you two stay at the Hazbin Hotel, helping Charlie in any way you can to try and make her dream a reality since deep down you hope that despite Heaven's corrupt system, there can be a small chance that souls can be redeemed. You hide the fact that you're ex-Anges though, since you don't wanna cause unnecessary drama.

During this time period, the two of you become better friends, having your own inside jokes regarding things you didn't particularly enjoy from your time as Angels, as well as learning more about one another.

You're the one to come to terms with your feelings first and decide to lay them on the table for Vaggie to see—she's always been a straight-to-the-point kind of gal, so if you're about to be rejected, might as well have it be done quick. But of course, she replies with her own declaration and desire to give a relationship a shot, which you're ecstatic about!

It's a bit hard at first since you never got to see much of romantic relationships in Heaven while training for murder every year, but you try and make it work. Both you and Vaggie work endlessly to try and make the other happy, and it only makes you fall for each other even more.

Also Charlie is your go-to wingwoman who will be there to give you the best advice to try and woo your girlfriend. She ships you two so hard.

Angel Dust 🕸

Working at a porn studio under an Overlord who owns your soul can be exhausting. You know this better than anyone since everyone who works under Valentino has contracts that won't let you get far with a leash. This is especially true with your friend Angel Dust.

You know about the things Valentino does to the spider demon—hell, everyone in the studio probably knows, but know better than to say anything about it. You're always there for Angel after particularly rough shoots, doing your best to comfort him in any way you can, though there isn't much you can do given you're in the same spot.

When he tells you he's moving to Princess Charlie's Hazbin Hotel, you're so happy for him! At least that will give him some distance from Valentino and his disgustingly filthy hands when he's not working.

This unsurprisingly doesn't bode well with the Overlord, causing him to throw fits of rage around the studio when Angel leaves for the day. You can't help but make a snarky comment that you definitely regret moments later.

“Can one blame him for wanting space from such an overbearing asshole?”

Without his favorite stress toy around, you end up paying the price for such comments. The kind of pain and suffering he puts you through is completely different from what you're used to. Is this the stuff he does to Angel? He leaves you naked, bruised and bloody in your room, and all you can do is muster what little strenght you have left to head for the Hazbin Hotel.

As soon as the door opens, you immediately tumble forward and start losing consciousness. The last thing you remember is Angel's horrified expression before it all fades to black.

Once you wake up and have been patched up, you explain what happened at the studio, and you could've sworn you saw fire in Angel's eyes as he holds on to you, fearing you might disappear at any moment. He begs you to stay in the hotel with him, and you agree without hesitation.

And so, your new routine of heading to work and then coming back to the hotel becomes blissful, not having to deal with that lunatic mothman more than necessary. You also get to spend time off with your best friend, which is always a plus.

Well, ‘best friend’ might not be the best way to describe it. You'd developed a crush on the spider demon even before this whole incident occurred, and now that you were spending more time with him, it only continued to grow.

With the line of work you two had, romantic relationships didn't seem to be a thing that crossed anybody's mind since why have a permanent partner when you could just go around fucking the hottest people in Hell? But you knew your feelings were far beyond from sexual, but didn't wanna ruin what you already had going for you.

One heartfelt drunken conversation after work however, makes you do a double take—Angel likes you back. And that both scares and excites you. But with both of you going over the pros and cons with each other, you decide to give it a chance.

You make sure to always have Angel's consent when it comes to physical intimacy—anything from holding his hand, to kissing to just cuddling. He jokes about not being a porcelain doll, but deep down you know he appreciates it.

You're also there for the rough nights, when he comes home wanting nothing more than to die again and let the earth swallow him whole. Words of reassurance are spoken and you can only hold him and let him cry as you vow to do anything in your power to stop this from happening again.

Husker 🍺

As one of the first guests of the hotel, like any wayward sinner, you find yourself in the bar more often than you'd like. Alcohol killed you in the first place, yet not even in the afterlife could you seem to pull yourself from its grasp.

It's a somewhat welcome surprise to find out that the bartender is going through a similar struggle. He still serves you drinks and lends and ear whenever he's not busy, but will occasionally drop the words of wisdom to watch your fill.

Eventually you two find yourselves doing this little back and forth and aid each other when you're in your dark places—Husk won't let you near the bottle if he sees you're about to knock yourself out, meanwhile you're there to look after him when he has one too many drinks and can't take care of himself.

Not to say he isn't a good drinking buddy—you've found out most of the gossip around the hotel thanks to this sneaky little cat demon and there's never a dull moment with him around.

You learn about his deal with Alastor during a particularly bad night, when Husk's had one too many and isn't thinking straight. You don't bring it up, but now have an eye open for whenever the Radio Demon drags your friend away.

Angel's the one who brings up your questionable relationship to the surface.

“So... you two like, fuckin' each other, or what?”

Your entire face goes red, and if it weren't for the dark fur you could swear you see Husk looking the same. He's quick to get rid of Angel's nosy ass, but now the seed has been planted in your brain—do you like Husk that way?

After careful consideration, you come to the conclusion that yes, you do. And it's honestly kinda terrifying considering how relationships don't usually work out in Hell, at least from what you've seen. Besides, even if you did try and confess, there was always the possibility of him not feeling the same and just being embarrassed by Angel's comment.

So in an attempt to make your feelings disappear, you stop frequenting the bar. Who knew the best way to stop drinking habits was trying to avoid spending time with your unrequited crush?

But of course, Husk isn't stupid. He sees the change in your behavior and let's it slide for a while, until he eventually corners you and asks what's wrong. You decide to get it all out of the way and tell him how you feel.

To the embarrassment of both of you, he holds your hand firmly between his and darts his eyes toward the corner of the room. “Next time you should ask before going off assuming things, ya got it?”

And so, your glass may have been empty that day, but your heart had never felt fuller.

Sir Pentious 🐍

You meet Sir Pentious when you sign into the hotel, and your immediate thought is just how can this snake man be so adorkable, it should be illegal.

As you greet the other residents and staff, you're quick to strike a conversation with him, which based on his body language he was not expecting. He starts telling you a bit about his weaponry and other contraptions, and you can't help but be fascinated by it.

You're a bit of a tinkerer yourself, albeit you've only dabbled in small scale projects—nothing compared to the massive canons and aircrafts that Pentious seems to be familiar with.

He acts like a kid opening gifts on Sinmas when he talks to you about his inventions, clearly never having anyone show interest before. Eventually he'll even ask for your input on certain smaller projects he wants to work on to help around the hotel, all to thank Charlie for being so kind to him and giving him a second chance. You're obviously eager to help!

You two start spending so much time together that the egg boys have started calling you ‘Boss #2’, much to Pentious' embarrassment and your amusement.

One afternoon once exercises are done for the day, the snake demon seems much more fidgety than usual as he invites you over to his room to continue working on his security system prototype. He's a blabbering mess once he has you sitting down and your heart just can't help but swell at each little syllable.

“Dearest (y/n)... you've, um, well... you are a huge inspiration for my work! A-And I wouldn't have been able to create any of this... without your help. You are kind, and smart and very talented.... and w-well, um I-”

You gotta silence the man with a kiss otherwise you two would be here all day. He's puddy in your hands and you can only giggle in return. “I really like you too, Pen.”

Everyone is either saying they called it or groaning in annoyance because fucking FINALLY, you two were just dancing around each other like idiots. The egg boys are just so happy to have someone else besides Pentious to be in their lives, and will do their best to look out for you just like with their own boss.

So yeah, prepare yourself for some sickeningly sweet gestures from this guy cause he will go above and beyond to get you what you need/want even if it kills him (again). And you can confidently say that you'd do the same in return.

Alastor 📻

After running in the same circles when you were alive, it's no surprise to you to end up in Hell, although you never would've suspected that you'd find yourself in the same place as him. It was honestly a huge relief not having to go through this all by yourself.

As Alastor exerted his dominance over Hell as the Radio Demon, you were powerful enough to be an Overlord yes, but rather liked keeping it on the down low instead of making a spectacle of yourself (Alastor was the one for theatrics anyway). Because of this, only select few knew of your true power and what you were capable of.

Instead, if there was one thing you were known for, it was being the only soul allowed to be close to the Radio Demon without the risk of death.

Yes, Alastor was a sadistic, cold-blooded and egotistical mastermind, but he wasn't a monster. You knew that better than anyone. Although the reactions he had to other demons treating you like a joke or calling you the ‘Radio Demon's Pet’ were not helping his case.

“ł₣ ɎØɄ V₳ⱠɄɆ ɎØɄⱤ ₴ØɄⱠ, ɎØɄ ₩łⱠⱠ ₩₳Ⱡ₭ ₳₩₳Ɏ Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ₦Ø₩ ฿Ɇ₣ØⱤɆ ł Ɽł₱ ł₮ ₳₱₳Ɽ₮ ฿ł₮ ฿Ɏ ฿ł₮...”

“Al, chill. You're gonna make them shit their pants.”

After his seven year absence, you immediately noticed something was wrong with him, and wouldn't stop pestering until he told you the truth—A deal he made and how his soul was now bound to someone much more powerful than he was.

You were obviously mortified and started looking into ways to try and find a loophole to this, but alas the Radio Demon would just give you his signature grin and tell you not to worry about it. It was his battle to face.

But of course you're quick to remind him that you've stuck together through thick and thin even in life, so there was no way you were letting him handle this by himself. You work as a team—always have and always will. You engulf him in a hug.

“We're gonna figure this out, Al. I promise...”

The grin remains, but his eyes widen slightly in surprise. He hesitantly returns the embrace, patting your back and wiping the tears you didn't even know you were shedding.

“There there~ To think such a sweet and innocent soul wound up in a gutter like this. I cannot say I complain as long as I have your delightful company beside me.”

And so when he says he has a plan that involves Princess Charlie Morningstar and her new Happy Hotel, you follow along. Whatever fate has in store for you two, you'll be ready.

Also Charlie is a sweetheart who could do no harm. Knowing Alastor, he'll probably do whatever he can here and there to help around for the cause. You also offer your services as an undercover Overlord, much to everyone's surprise when you reveal your status.

The Radio Demon may have a plan, but something tells you it won't involve bloody murder (unless extremely necessary or if someone really pissed him off).

Like you said—he's not a monster.

Lucifer 🍎

You and Lucifer were good friends at the beginning of Creation. While you were stuck with the tedious task of designing blueprints for the new ‘Human Project’ that headquarters had in store, Lucifer's Seraphim status allowed him to bring creations to life with the flick of a wrist, much to your delight and wonder.

His ideas and pitches for Earth were always so entertaining to listen to, and you would do your best to encourage him to show them to the higher ups to get them approved—His mind was just filled with joy and love and wonder that you'd never seen before.

Which was why it was always so disappointing whenever he'd come back and say that he was shut down and even mocked at. How could Heaven shut down such an imaginative mind in the creation of their biggest project yet?

To say you were devastated when you heard about his fall would be an understatement. You mourned the loss of your friend, knowing that he'd done nothing wrong and thinking it wasn't fair to him to receive such punishment just because he cared for the future of humanity.

Thousands of years later, you overhear the plan for Extermination of Hell kind. You didn't mean to walk by, yet here you were, under the direct eye of the Head Seraphims about to be downcast for something you had no control over—just like Lucifer.

“You're all self-entitled pricks! You think you can do whatever you want just because it doesn't follow what you define as good!”

You get a few good arguments before being cast downwards, leaving you in bad shape in a random alley with no wings and no means of escape. That is of course, until destiny seems to be on your side and Lucifer finds you, completely perplexed to see you here at all.

After getting treated, you tell him about the Extermination so he and Hell can prepare. The conversation of you getting cast down by Heaven gets glossed over, but he can feel the fury building up inside him. You were always doing things by the book—how could they do this to you?

Once the slaughter is over, Lucifer gets a meeting with Heaven and secures protection for both his daughter Charlie and you, to which they begrudgingly agree to keep him outta their hair. You can't help but feel touched by this gesture.

He's also quick to offer you a room to stay in, but you compromise by living in a seperate building from him and Charlie so you aren't a bother even though he says you aren't. In fact, ever since Lilith left, he's had to take care of his young daughter all by himself, so he's more than happy when you offer to help.

It doesn't take long for your feelings to start coming into the surface from all those years ago, and you gotta push them away because he's both married and has a child to look after! Besides, why would the King of Hell ever look in your direction?

Eventually though, he brings up the question with nothing but sweaty palms and a customized rubber ducky that says ‘I love you’ whenever you squeeze it. You blush furiously, but can't help but bring up your concerns, not wanting to replace Lilith in his heart. He looks into your eyes and says that he hasn't been as happy as he is now in the past thousand years.

Cue baby Charlie walking in on everything, and she just smiles and goes innocently. “Daddy! Is (y/n) staying home with us now?”

You two can only chuckle at the cuteness of it and you immediately go to hug her. You couldn't believe that you were blessed with such a wonderful family.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #vaggie x reader #angel dust x reader #alastor x reader #sir pentious x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #husker x reader #husk x reader

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pellucid-constellations · 1 year ago

Text

Of Oblivious Minds (3)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Azriel's POV (it's a warning here), angst

a/n: I am blown away by all of you and your support!! I really love writing for this fandom omg. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy ♡ Let me know what you think!! I'll get the next update up soon!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Azriel was losing his ever-loving mind.

A few weeks ago, everything was fine. Not optimal, but fine.

He knew his mate, and that was more than could be said for most of Prythian. But even more than that, he could love her from afar. He could make small remarks and catch the smiles they would elicit. He could send his shadows after her on her walks home, protecting her even though she had the entire Inner Circle looking out for her wellbeing. He could buy the ridiculously expensive pastries she loved and stock the kitchens with them, listening for the small gasps she let out each time she found them.

He could talk to you, listen to you, love you in his small ways, even if it wasn’t the ways in which he longed for.

Because it wasn’t the right time yet. You hadn’t felt the bond for yourself.

So, yes—admittedly, Azriel had not been in the most optimal position with you. But it was leaps and bounds better than the purgatory you were subjecting him to now.

He mulled over his current reality as he sat opposite to you at the dining table. He had had to snag the seat from Mor, ripping the chair from her hand in an uncharacteristic show of aggression, and you hadn’t so much as looked up from your plate. He would’ve rather fought for the seats beside you, but Rhys and Cassian had been sitting before he even entered the room. So now he fought for your eyes and was too far away to offer any lingering, accidental touches.

Not that you would reciprocate either.

You were avoiding him, and Azriel was at his wit's end trying to decipher why.

His shadows had relayed dismal reports, only whispering the words sad and alone and contemplative into his ears each morning. He could have guessed as much, if the display of emotions he had tried to comfort you through all those days ago told him anything.

But Gods, did they really tell him nothing, because you hadn’t spoken to him since.

“—that is certainly something to consider. Y/n, would you be open to the job?”

“Hm?” you hummed, and Azriel watched as your eyes flickered over to Rhys in one abrupt movement. “Sorry, what?”

Rhys raised a brow lined with humor, and Azriel realized he hadn’t been listening to the conversation either. “Helion has extended an invitation to the Night Court—for diplomatic relations and all. It’s mostly a weekend stay for show, but he has quite an extensive library. Feyre and I went last time so it would only be fair if—”

“Yes,” you nodded, the most emotion Azriel had seen on your face in days blooming into a joyous array. “Of course, I would love to go. Are you kidding?”

Rhys chuckled. “I figured. Helion has been quite eager to get you to come as well. Seemed like the perfect time.”

Azriel didn’t miss the way the High Lord’s eyes shone with something other than mirth as he looked closer at the scholar… as he inspected your facade the same way Azriel had been for the past week.

“When can I leave?”

Something in Azriel scratched to a halt. “She’s to go alone?”

Feyre offered the spymaster a soft smile from the other side of the table. “If she wishes. Helion’s invitation was open-ended.”

“Take the vacation, I say,” Mor piped in, wine glass raised in a solitary toast.

“Or… you could take me,” Cassian grinned beside you, jostling you in a playful grip.

You sent a scoff his way. “Aren’t you banned?”

“No, actually. I’m banned from Summer Court, which is completely unrelated.”

A short laugh trickled from your lips. It wasn’t a full one, not like the ones Azriel was so used to—the ones he basked in—but it was a laugh, nonetheless.

He felt the way his eyes seemed to follow the crescendo of it, his blinks in time with the sweet sound.

He committed it to memory.

“Right, well let’s keep you away from neighboring courts as much as possible so we can avoid a repeat of that, okay?”

Something like a grin fought at the side of Azriel’s mouth at your quip.

Cassian prattled on. Something about unjust rules or ridiculous high lords—Azriel wasn’t paying attention. He was too caught up in you and the way you were so close to meeting his gaze.

“Perhaps she shouldn’t go alone,” Azriel spoke up, interrupting his brother’s spiel. You still didn’t look at him, instead turning to catch Rhys’s response.

“Azriel, I can assure you this is a safe visit,” Rhys offered. He knew. Everyone seemed to know but you. “It’s hardly even business. It’s more of a vacation. I’ve been shoving century-old relics in her face for the past few months. She deserves time to herself, don’t you think?”

His High Lord was speaking in code. A terrible, frustrating code that really meant, “give her some distance.”

Azriel had had enough of distance.

He nodded his head all the same.

And then, despite all odds, you looked at him.

You looked at him and it was as if the air had been knocked from his lungs. As if he had been wrung out and stretched thin and every bone in his body forced him to sit up straighter. You were looking at him and Azriel couldn’t conceptualize the way the spectrum in his chest moved so quickly from utter relief to the brink of desolation.

Because you looked at him as if you were broken. A sad—such a sad—smile graced your face, one he had never had the displeasure of seeing before, and he wanted to wipe it away. He wanted to kiss it from your face with soft touches and reassuring whispers and that was startling for Azriel because he usually kept his overwhelming urge to kiss you at bay.

“I’ll bring you back a souvenir,” is all you said. Such simple words to accompany an expression that sent him reeling.

“Thank you,” he replied, with the most sincerity he could muster.

And then he held your gaze as it became downcast. He craned his neck to catch every last second of your eyes as they turned back down to the table.

It was hours later that Azriel found himself in the townhouse, boots creating an indent in the office carpet. Rhys sat just feet away from him, leaning back against the desk, waiting for the Shadowsinger to erupt.

“I would like for you to position your spies further into Autumn. I know you have a few that have integrated into the court, but I need more intel on Eris and his plans.”

“Of course.”

“You can take out any currently residing in Day. Just for the next week or so. With y/n going, she can report any happenings.”

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw jumped. “Would that be wise?”

Rhys stared back at his brother, expression giving nothing away. “Why wouldn’t it be? Do you not trust y/n’s word?”

Azriel’s wings were taut against his back. In truth, he hadn’t felt relaxed in days. With you leaving, that tension would surely pull him into thin compliance.

“Obviously I trust her word, Rhysand.”

“Rhysand? What have I done to earn your grievance?” the High Lord asked, crossing his arms over his chest, still the perfect picture of calm.

Azriel was a juxtaposition before him as he clenched his hands and replied, “You already know.”

“Do I know? I’m not sure you’ve been clear or honest with anyone. Y/n especially.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Rhys bent at the elbow and rubbed a restless hand across his jaw. Azriel ignored the movement in favor of holding eye contact with the High Lord. Azriel was being stubborn, he knew that, but there was no other way to be.

He needed to be consistent and reliable. He needed to be a pillar for his family to lean on, and you were part of that. He wasn’t going to take that away from you—to be selfish and call upon a mating bond you hadn't even been made aware of yet.

He wasn’t going to squander your friendship in the hopes of something more.

There was a chance, no matter how much the prospect pained him to consider, that you wouldn’t want the bond. You had never hinted at wanting more with the spymaster, so there was no telling how you might react to the cauldron blessing you with a union. You could reject it, and with it would go your friendship.

Just the thought sent ice through Azriel’s veins.

Truth be told, he had never shown you many signs either. When the bond snapped months ago, it had taken time for Azriel to come to terms with the truth. He had ruminated on it amidst many sleepless nights, watched you from a new perspective over many dinners, and contemplated the path that had led him to you.

And then he had regretted. Cauldron had he regretted.

The feeling still lingered, a reminder of each woman he had taken to his bed before you. All of the fae that had meant nothing, and even the ones that had boarded on something, he wished he could do away with.

Because you had been privy to them all. He knew you had witnessed a few late-night trysts, and even worse, that you had watched him pine after Mor for a century. It all seemed so frivolous now; it all paled in comparison to you.

And the absolute worst part of it all is that he knew.

He knew how easy it would be to fall in love with you from the start, so he pretended not to notice.

He threw himself into impractical longing and meaningless lovers and he pretended that it didn’t hurt to look at you.

The bond had only cemented his foolishness.

He hardly had a chance with you by the time it snapped.

“Late night then, Az?”

You had teased him over breakfast just days before the bond had snapped for him, a small smile on your face as you lounged at the table early in the morning. At the time, Azriel had bit the inside of his cheek and reeled in his snarkiness. He had avoided your gaze, avoided the robe that barely covered your nightgown, and made himself toast in silence. He had already coaxed the blonde fae out of his bed, and he hadn’t needed a reminder of the woman he had been imagining all throughout the night.

Because that had been something else he opted to ignore—that he pictured you, imagined you, at all times.

It snapped three days later. He had been accompanying you through Velaris. “Shopping for fun,” you had said, “and I hate to go alone.”

The only thing Azriel had taken home that day was a gaping hole in his chest and the knowledge that lying to himself had brought him nothing but pain.

The months following were different.

Everything was different.

But for you, he had come to the grim realization, nothing was different at all. He was still Azriel, your friend Azriel, who was secretive and private and cared from afar. You still pictured him as a man who chose his lovers based on convenience and quick practicality even though he hadn’t so much as looked at another woman since your emotions began flowing through his chest.

Gods, your emotions. They were so positive, so addicting, he could sit back and live his days through you until the end of time. You had so much unrestricted joy coursing through you—so much curiosity and delight. Part of Azriel dreaded the day you did recognize the bond; it would dim the connection to you.

That day in the library had been the first time the bond had chafed against his lungs. He had felt the earthquake beneath his feet and thought nothing of it, but then your fear punctured his being and he had run so fast his wings ached.

And then you started having nightmares, ones he couldn’t fix, and Azriel began to feel like he was losing you. Like the bond was withering and eroding within him and you along with it.

“How long, Azriel?” Rhys’s voice cut through the air with a harshness.

The shadowsinger breathed through his nose, jaw tight.

“Tell me. Tell me how long you’re going to keep this up for.”

“You don’t understand, Rhys,” came Azriel’s low reply. “None of you do.”

The High Lord scoffed. “Right, because I had it so easy with Feyre. Az, mates are complicated—”

“Don’t,” Azriel breathed. A dangerous shakiness accompanied the word.

“Explain it to me. Help me to understand how—”

“There was nothing for you to lose!” The rise of the shadowsinger’s voice sent Rhys into silence. “There was nothing! You hadn’t known Feyre for three centuries—hadn’t known what it was like to see her cry over worthless males or laugh until she was doubled over. You didn’t have time to memorize the sound of her voice or understand how it felt to lose that small piece of her. Because she won’t even talk to me anymore and—”

Azriel cut himself off, moving for the first time since he entered office. He paced, the motion of his feet doing little to dispel the tension from the air or from his body. Azriel tugged a hand through his hair, his shadows following the aggressive pull and weaving through the strands.

“How long?” Rhys asked again, but this time, Azriel knew that he was asking a different question. One that even he himself had avoided answering.

The shadowsinger paused. His next words were tainted and his voice cracked.

“I think forever.”

Part 4

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel angst

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blockedbykei · 6 months ago

Text

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐏 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐎𝐖

🏐— tsukishima kei x f!reader

— synopsis: he hates your intelligence in classrooms and you hate his cunnigness at the court. both go at great lengths to defeat each other, but how is it that both of you were the only ones that can help each other be better?

— warnings: swearing, a bit suggestive, enemies to lovers (although kind of enemies)

You slam your paper on his desk.

Tsukishima barely flinches. He removes his headphones and hangs them on his neck, unbothered by your looming presence as he stares blankly at your paper. 96

The corners of his lips tug down, seemingly unimpressed. "Eh."

"Eh? Aw, is little Tsukishima disappointed at himself?"

He looks up at you, stares deeply into your eyes. And for a moment you'd think his domineering gaze would soften as he was overawed by you. But then he smiles, that annoying little shitty, narcissistic smile.

"Actually, not at all (l/n)," his smile is bright, almost genuine, but his sarcasm is radiating. "I got a 98. Not bad, though!"

You swear steam was coming off your body.

"96 at modern Japanese." He says. "Understandable."

"Understandable?!"

"Don't beat yourself up, (l/n). Not everyone's perfect," he leans back. "Not even me. I mean, I'm just being humble. But yeah, not everyone."

"I hate you," you take your paper off his desk.

"Flattered. Really, really flattered. Thank you for hating me, actually. I feel so honored to be hated." He puts his headphones back on and places his elbows on his desk, his chin resting on his joint fists. Tsukishima smiles at you again.

God, his smile is infuriating.

Tsukishima was someone you'd go to great lengths to defeat. He never bothered for your existence when first year began. He didn't even know your name; Didn't even look at your direction. He'd only known it a month later when you were paired to be partners and he decided to be such a condescending brat when he pointed out your handwriting.

At first you ignored it, took it by heart and started organizing your writings on your notes. Then he decided to put all his self-hatred on you and started to discreetly judge you.

Maybe he wasn't even judging you. Maybe he was just staring at your paper, scoffed to himself, shook his head and laughed because you got a better score than him and he was berating himself. But no, he laughed because he thought you were a tryhard and he was a prodigy.

Obviously none of those were confirmed. But he's a man and a man hates it when a woman's happy.

When he smirks you have the urge to rip his lips to pieces.

You walk away from him and sit on your desk, which was actually beside him.

His scent follows your flaring nostrils as you carefully shove your paper between the notebooks in your bag. Tsukishima looks out the window, hiding his smirk, his foot tapping lightly but never making sound. So you put your own headphones over your ears, in hopes to drown out his deafening aura.

🏐 —

"Shit!"

Tsukishima's knees bends the wrong way and almost falls onto his back as he lands on the ground. The ball echoes across the court as it ricochets off the floor. You laugh loudly, and everyone looks at you.

"You're too advanced for the block, idiot!" You say loudly. Yamaguchi giggles.

He rolls his eyes at you as he chases for the ball. Kageyama sits beside you.

"You know he plays horribly when you're here."

"Oh?" You raise a brow. "Is he not used to a girl looking at her?"

Kageyama scratches his nose. "Probably 'cause he hates you."

You laugh lightly. "Kinda nice that I'm here. I get to see him fuck up."

Kageyama snorts. "He feels pressured 'cuz you're here."

"Oh? He said that?"

"No. But I can hear him think."

You laugh and wipe your sweat off. "I'd play with you guys, but his remarks could piss me off and I might, uh, shove that ball up his ass."

When Kageyama laughs again, quite loudly, Tsukishima's head snaps at the bench where you're sitting. Heat rises to his head, his stance losing its usual strength, his arms weakening as he watches you—

Laughing, at some joke you said or Tobio said. Laughing heartily like someone just made the best joke in the world. The way your lips almost reach the wrinkles beneath your eyes. Oh, that's so funny Tobio. You're so funny you should quit volleyball and be a stand up comedian!

He knows you're talking shit about him, too. Idiot. Brat. Showoff.

He had the right to show off. He was better than you.

He was the better thinker; the better scorer.

Tsukishima is better than you.

I'm better than you—

The ball hits the side of his face, his glasses flailing to the side.

The first thing that reaches his ears—your sickening laugh. That monstrous, sadistic guffaw. Tanaka yells from the other side of the court and dives beneath the net to take a look at his face. Nishinoya hovers, hands on his knees, laughing.

"Pay attention, dumbass!" You cuff your hands over your mouth. "Stop daydreaming! It's embarrassing."

He bends to pick his glasses up. Alive, no cracks, frame not broken. He puts it on the bridge of his nose so that he could see your face clearly.

Hideously alluring.

"Do you think of scheming as daydreaming, (l/n)?" his voice, full of disdain, though hidden through feigned sweetness. "Like a child as always. Go back to middle school?"

"Do better at volleyball?"

"I ought to kick the both of you out this court," Daichi says loudly. "Oh wait I can't speak to (l/n) like that. S-sorry!"

Tsukishima sneers, his lips frowning. He approaches the rolling ball, watching as it hits the wall and propells back towards his awaiting feet. When he picks it up, he steals another glance at you talking to Kageyama.

The King and the Brat. The most annoying combination in the entirety of Karasuno campus.

Somehow, seeing you next to Kageyama and being given the nickname as if the two of you were a pair sends a tight rope around his chest that causes it to ache a little. Tsukishima huffs it out, an unsettling in his bones.

Please don't look at me.

The ball flies into the air, and his palm raises just in time to make contact with the ball.

He sees you watch from the corner of his eye, a blurried silhouette, but your figure was familiar enough for him to recognize you. His heart beats a little louder.

🏐 —

No.

Shit. Fuck. No

God damnit. 74.

Tsukishima stares at his paper in horror. In his entire life, he has always gotten two digits on his scores. However, they had always been ninety onwards. Never in the line of sevens. He doesn't know if his horror is displayed across his face. He prays it doesn't—he would die if you saw his expression.

He leans sideways to the right, his eye darting towards the side to peak at your paper.

98.

The english language was something that was easy to learn but never easy in exams. This—despite boasting that english was the easiest subject—was his weakness.

You're too preoccupied to notice his existence. Good.

He turns around to look at the green haired boy.

"Yamaguchi." He whisper-yelled. "Tadashi."

Yamaguchi looks up. "Yes?"

This was it. Years of built up pride, intelligence, boosted ego— down the drain. As soon as he'd ask him the question, it would forever alter the image of himself towards his friend. Tsukishima was no longer the brainy four-eyes of the Karasuno Volleyball Club.

He would now be Tsukishima, the idiot four-eyes.

Maybe I'm overreacting.

He stands up and sits beside the empty chair next to Yamaguchi.

"How- What's your score?"

Yamaguchi looks puzzled as he glances at his paper. "E-eighty eight."

God, this is depressing.

"Um," Tsukishima scratches the back of his neck. "Could you help me with English?"

There it is. His face says it all.

"Don't you even—"

"You, Tsukishima Kei, asking for my help?" He laughs incredulously. "Are you sure? What's your score?"

"Don't want to talk about it."

"Aw, c'mon Tsukki." He pouts playfully like comforting a weeping baby. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

Tsukishima tells him in a low voice. He never thought he could hate Yamaguchi's laugh. But he did, right after he laughed at his score. It wasn't even a failing grade.

"You know who should tutor you though?" He puts his paper in his bag. "(l/n). She's good, y'know. I heard her speak english once. I thought she was from, uh, some foreign country or something."

"She's not even that good." Tsukishima takes off his glasses and wipes it with the corner of his uniform. "She's good with memory but she forgets it right after the quiz like a ditz."

Yamaguchi snorts. "She's the one who got the best score out of all of us."

"Yeah, no thanks. I'd never let her teach me."

"I think you're forgetting I'm right here in front of you." You turn around, placing your elbow and forearm on the back of your chair and look at Tsukishima. "I can teach you."

Tsukishima scoffs. "No thanks. I'd rather repeat freshman year."

"Are you sure?" you pout, placing your chin on the back of your hand. "I can teach you, little Tsukishima."

"I'm not little."

"Yeah but your brain is."

"Yamaguchi, help me out here."

He can't ask for your help. Never ever. Never will he ever ask for your help. Tsukishima can study this himself. He's always studied by himself. He's never needed anyone, and certainly not you. He was independent, cunning as everyone says. Tsukishima does not need tutors.

Up until now.

"Please help Tsukishima study," Yamaguchi looks at you. "He's too prideful to ask but he really needs your help."

Tsukishima stammers. "T-that's not what I meant!"

"Aw, is this true?" You're taunting him. He feels like a child.

"I can study by myself. Fuck off."

You smile at him. In a way that he can't read. It was soft, almost kind, like you wanted to help him wholeheartedly and wanted his english to improve. Then he looked into your eyes and all the kindness in your smile had been washed away by this pity in your eyes that you enjoyed. Tsukishima huffs.

"No need to be shy about asking for help, little Tsukki," you coo. "We'll study in the locker room while everyone else plays. You're skipping practice today."

Tsukishima zips his bag and stands up. He towers over you, covering the sun that blinds you through the glass window. He looks down at your eyes—teasing, condescending eyes. His lips are turned to a frown, which makes you smile even more.

"I'm not skipping practice."

"Too bad. You are. You know, if you let me help you, you'd stop having that distraught face everytime you get your english paper." You take a step closer, neck bent backwards to look up at him. "Yeah, I saw your face."

Yamaguchi nudges his arm. "C'mon, Kei. Ask for her help. You know you need it. Don't be so prideful."

Tsukishima growls. He doesn't say anything yet, all the confidence in him washed away by a score that wasn't even a failing grade. His palm rubs the space between his eyebrows and mumbles:

"Help me."

You lean in, ear towards him. "Couldn't hear that. Sorry?"

"Help me study."

"Are you commanding me or asking?"

"Please help me study."

"Don't mumble, Tsukishima."

"Damn it!" He groans. "Please help me, dearest (l/n)." His voice drips in sarcasm, peering at you through his scratched lenses. "Help me get a better grade at english. Help me stop myself from strangling you! Idiot!"

You lean back, the bottom of your spine resting on your table as your left hand props you up. Tsukishima is almost seething, his eyes widened a little as his anger seethes through his nostrils. You hum, pretend to think, then slap his right cheek twice lightly.

"How kind of you to ask, little Tsukki." You wrinkle your nose at him, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "See you at the locker room."

When you leave, his head turns to Yamaguchi who smiles innocently. Tsukishima almost strangles him instead.

🏐—

The boys are thirty minutes late to practice. Including Daichi.

"It's the sequence of the words, Tsukishima," you point your pen at his test paper. "The spelling's no problem. You're good at it. It's just with how you've formed them together."

They all sit behind the two of you, watching silently. Tsukishima is red from embarrassment as he ignores them.

"What's so wrong about this sequence? It sounds correct."

"Just because it sounds correct doesn't mean that it is correct."

Hinata snorts. Tsukishima's head snaps at it. "Don't snort, dumbass. Last time I checked you got a twenty at your exam."

"You hit a nerve there, Shoyo," Kageyama giggles.

You sigh and slap your hands at your thighs. "Sawamura-san, why are you guys even here?"

He stammers, his back straightening as he fixes his bag on his left shoulder. "Jus–Just wanted to make sure you two will be fine. Let's go guys."

When they leave, Tsukishima relaxes in relief. He stares intensely at his notebook, figuring out the correct answer. You try not to laugh at him, but the sight was entertaining; seeing him suffer brought your heart at ease.

"Figured it out, moron?" You bring your own notebook out, flipping it to the last page you'd written on. "It's really not that hard."

"Shut up, (l/n.)" he says. You make a small sound, similar to "okay!" As you begin to write down on a blank page.

And you're like that for a few hours.

Tsukishima answers the questions you've written for him, and when he asks you for help, you cordially help him without telling him the answers. Then you both go back to formidable silence, doing your own perspective works.

He almost enjoys this newfound environment created with you. Somehow, his body is more tranquil, but at the same time his mind is racing, because you're here. Tutoring him. Tsukishima has always believed that he was one step ahead of you, making sure you were unable to catch up with him. But now he's slipped from that step and you've caught up and you're deriding him.

Nonetheless, you're his only hope right now.

He looks at you.

Your hair is tucked behind your ears and your teeth are currently creating dents at the eraser of your pencil. You're concentrating, seeming like you've forgotten that he's sitting in front of you. And Tsukishima's eyes are extremely blurred, but when he looks at you through the gap between his glasses and forehead, your face was somehow clearer.

"Are you a dog?" he raises a brow. "Don't chew on your pencil."

You huff like you're being scold and place your pencil down. But the chewing didn't last a second as your bottom lip is now tucked between your teeth. Tsukishima rolls his eyes.

"Here," he flips his paper and shows it to you. "Did I do it correctly?"

You take the paper from him and read it. He hopes you're at least slightly impressed, that you're not arbitrating his answers nor think they're half-assed. When your red pen moves into a slant, the corner of his lip twitches upwards. But when you circle the number, he has this urge to shove that pen into your eye.

"Hm, not bad. But not enough." you flip the paper.

70.

Four points less.

"Damn it." You can tell he's disappointed at himself. "You suck at teaching."

"Excuse me?!" Your eyebrows furrow. "Hey, I've spent the past four hours teaching you here, stickhead. The sun's almost down!"

"Do you have to go home already?" He asks. You shrug. "Then we can stay here until they're done with practice."

"Tsukishima, I have freshly cooked doburi waiting for me at home. Do you know what donburi is? Do you know what it tastes like while it's still hot? Fucking donburi, Tsukishima." You whine. "Would you like to study at my place instead?"

You seem to not have processed what you've offered, but Tsukishima has. He's surprised at your comment, watching you look so desperate to get home and eat that "fucking donburi." He waits for a moment until you realize and you do, but it seemed like you didn't care when you lean back and raise a brow.

"Well?"

"Sure."

His quick, almost unhesitant compliance surprises you. Tsukishima adjusts his glasses and brings his headphones out as you both head out the door. You lock it behind you, with Tsukishima already walking ahead.

You pass by the gym. "Sawamura, everyone, we're heading out!"

Tsukishima appears beside you. "We're going."

"To where?" Yamaguchi approaches you both. "Are you going to eat out? Ooh, can you bring food back here?"

"We're going to her place to study." He answers. "We can't come back."

The others seem to hear what he said, because Hinata yells: "What kind of studying are you going to do, Stingyshima?"

"Something that your tiny shit-for-brains can't comprehend." He retorts. "Focus on your receives, squirt!"

You wave to everyone and catch a glimpse of Yamaguchi's smile. You roll your eyes at him and poke your tongue out.

🏐 —

The way home was quieter than you expected.

Mainly because Tsukishima had his headphones on and all you hear was your un synchronous footsteps on the stoned sidewalk. You take small looks at your peripherals to see what he's doing. And, well, he's walking... like every other normal person.

But you're walking side by side and there's this space between you that's so close but also so far away. You feel his heat touching the fabric of your shirt, his hand twitching and just barely grazing yours. Then he speaks:

"You walk like a penguin," he says. "Why are you like that?"

"Why are you so annoying?" you roll your eyes. "I don't point out how you walk."

"That's because there's nothing wrong with my walk," he puts his headphones down, hangs them around his neck. "What? Got a stick up your ass or something?"

"I'll stab you with that stick."

"Gross."

You turn a corner and he follows suit like it was normal for him to follow you around. When you stop in front of your gate and unlock it, he bore no unhestiance as he removed his shoes and entered your home.

There was no one else around. And as soon as Tsukishima entered, you disappeared in his vision. Although, he hears you yell from afar: "Set your bag wherever. Stay in the living room though!"

He assumes you're either changing your clothes, getting a bowl of donburi, or both. He obeys, sets his bag on the floor and sits cross legged on the carpet of your living room, taking his notes out. He sees the sun inching away behind the roofs of the houses near by, waiting for you patiently.

And then his eyes roam to picture frames.

Never would he think that a picture of you smiling would be so endearing. That smile of yours, painting you an angelic aura, like people would never expect that you'd be the devil's descendant. Nonetheless, you were still beautiful.

The picture was you in a ponytail, face doused in sweat; the background, although blurry and dark, looked familiar. But Tsukishima was more focused on your gleaming smile, the way your eyes are almost closed and your lips were pale and your teeth were shiny.

"Hey, douchebag," you sit beside him despite the free space on the opposite of the coffee table, setting down two bowls of donburi. And yes, you had changed your clothes into something comfier. "Let's eat and study."

He never expected that you'd get him a bowl, thought that he'd have to ask or drop hints of him wanting donburi. He takes it though, and it is freshly cooked. He now understood your eagerness to go home.

An hour passes by.

The bowls are empty and set aside. Tsukishima's notes are scattered, hair disheveled from him constantly running his fingers through them. That string of hatred between you has been put aside as you both seem to tolerate one another through this session.

"Tsukishima," you say, almost sternly, placing two cartons of strawberry milk on the table. "It's easy to determine an adverb in Japanese. It's no different in identifying it in English."

"I know that, dumbass. What are you, a consciousness?" He takes his box, taking the plastic off the straw and shoving it on the circular foil. "Gimme yours."

He takes your carton and shakes it before doing the same and handing it to you. You blush vehemently, murmuring your gratitude and wrapping your lips around the paper straw.

Tsukishima's eyes wander out of boredom, tracing every corner and every ridge of your home. Until his eyes land on the sliding door to your backyard and catch a glimpse of that familiar blue and yellow ball.

"You play volleyball?" he queries, both his eyebrows raising.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Back in middle school."

"Bet you were shit at it."

"I was a middle blocker."

Tsukishima's back straightens, staring at you in hidden surprise. "At that height?"

"I'm not that short! Asshole," you throw your pen at him. He catches it with ease, setting it beside his notebook.

"Why aren't you in the women's volleyball club, then?" his brow raises. "Too short? They didn't take you? Failed the tryouts?"

You look down at your fingers, covered in peeled up skin and charred fingernails. You feel embarrassed, avoiding his eager stare. You sense his want to know your reason, radiating off his eyes.

"Not saying," you push yourself up, now standing in front of him. Tsukishima's eyes follow you, trailing uo from your thighs up to your neck, his irises darkening until he meets your gaze. "Get up. Time to go home."

"Let's play."

You stammer. "W-what? It's late."

"And I want to see you play." Tsukishima stands, hovering over you. "It's only nine in the evening."

You purse your lips, arms going limp on either side of your tired body. Though despite being worn out, you walk towards the door and slide it open, being greeted by Miyagi's brumal air that raises the hairs on your body. Tsukishima tugs on the sleeves of his sweater, covering half of his fingers, before following you out.

Barefoot in the evening, with the moon casting a pearlescent glow on your enervated bodies, the thump of the leather ball is in sync with your beating heart; and at each thump, it seems to wake Tsukishima up more.

"Tell me why you're not in the women's volleyball club," he sets it towards your direction.

"No." Your wrists join, your right fingers placing themselves on top of your left fingers, both thumbs settled side by side as your wrist ricochet the ball towards him. "It's none of your business."

Tsukishima catches it with ease. "You're lame."

You scoff, returning the ball. "I am not."

The blue and yellow ball floats into the evening air, the bright colors darkened by the stygian sky, only luminated by the moon and the lights outside your backyard. Tsukishima sets it to you again. "Listen, I don't really care about whatever your reason is. I just want to know."

You huff. There's no harm in telling your enemy a secret of yours, right? It's not like he was popular enough to go on and tell people. And like he said, he didn't care.

The ball comes in contact with your wrists. "I got injured. Well, not seriously injured. I can still play but I'm not as good as I used to be." Tsukishima catches the ball and rests it on his hip, listening to you explain. "I actually got a surgery at my calf."

You lift your pajamas just below your knee, showing the healed scar at the back of your calf. "The bone got dislocated 'cause one of my teammates smashed onto my leg when she was trying to save the ball. She got injured too, actually."

"Obviously," he retorts, now staring at your calf. Something about Tsukishima staring at your scar seemed too intimate as it should be, staring at your bare skin. His blonde hair drapes over his forehead, glasses glinting in the moonlight. "So where do you struggle?"

"Blocking. I can't jump properly." You scratch the back of your neck. "I can set though. Just, it's not in my heart."

"It's just a club," he says. "Play whatever position you want." Tsukishima sets the ball to you again.

"Just a club, huh?" You smirk. "Why'd you fail your test?"

"Because I was thinking too much of what I was gonna do when I'm at court again."

"And it's just a club."

"What's it to you?" He snaps. "At least I'm in the Volleyball club. Have I taken your dream?"

"You're a child."

"Yeah yeah. Join the club or whatever. Don't care if you don't or you want to."

You set it back to him again. "I want to."

Tsukishima senses your melancholy longing for the sport, sees your disheartened look as you think about all the chances you've lost. His heart twinges just the slightest, holding the ball between his slender hands. He almost pities you.

"Tell you what," he sets it to you. "If I pass the retest tomorrow, I'll help you with your blocking. If not," he shrugs, catching your return, "good luck with your life."

"You sound like this is a once in a lifetime opportunity." You roll your eyes.

Tsukishima hopes he passes the retest tomorrow.

Mainly because it was import to him to ace it. Partly because he wanted to see you on court.

🏐 —

100.

You read Tsukishima's answers. In the fluorescent lights, his neat handwriting presents to you all the knowledge he's obtained from your chaotic teachings. He scoffs proudly, resting his lower back on the edge of his table.

"Not bad, nerd." You hand his paper to him. "And you beat me by two points."

"That's because you're an idiot," he sits down on his chair, though still facing you. "See you at the gym later."

Your brows furrow. "The gym's closed. Coach Ukai said today's rest day."

"But I'm not Coach Ukai," he fixes his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "It's just for today. And only today."

"Fine," you agree. You act like you're forced to say yes, but deep inside the vessels of your heart and every part of your brain, they throb with excitement.

So you meet Tsukishima outside the gym after class in a white shirt and gym shorts. He meets you there, clad in the same outfit, heat radiating off his body that warms your always cold flesh. For a moment he admires observes you, your attire unfamiliar but nevertheless appealing hideous.

When you enter, the court seemed bigger without the boys rousing around the court. It was quieter, no shoes squeaking, no balls slammed, no eager yelling. You set your bag down on the floor and see your untied shoe laces.

"Fuck," you mutter.

But before you could bend down, Tsukishima has already knelt in front of you.

His knee rests on the tip of your shoe, fingers ribboning the laces of your rubber shoes. Your eyes widen, body stiffening, and it felt like forever as he tied it (it was actually only 10 seconds).

"You're a dumbass for leaving your shoelaces untied." He makes no comment as to why he's decided to tie your laces, but you swear you see his ears turn a twinge of pink.

Tsukishima takes a ball and goes to the other side of the court. When you stand opposite from him, he rolls the ball to your direction.

"How long has it been since you've played?" he asks, loudly, voice echoing across the empty gymnasium.

"Uh, a year and a half." The ball bounces between your palm and the squeaky floor. "I'm a little rusty."

"You are rusty. Your receives were shit last night."

You growl at his tease.

"We're not gonna start with the blockings. We have to start from the beginning." Tsukishima positions himself, knees bent and apart, his hands on his knees. "Serve it."

So you do. You toss the ball into the air, your hand striking as it meets the ball, and it flies across the net. It goes outside.

"Idiot." Tsukishima laughs. "First, don't try to aim it to me. You don't want your opponents to save it. You have to aim it at an open spot inside the line. Second, don't serve too hard it goes outside."

"Okay!" You yell. And you serve again.

The ball grazes the net, but the momentum deems the ball to be inside the line. Tsukishima catches it and receives it back to your side.

Shit.

You race after the ball, joined wrists hitting it back to him. He dives, the back of his hand coming contact with the ball and it goes back to your court.

And it's high in the air, so you take the chance to bend your knees and jump, spiking it to his court.

Tsukishima blocks it.

He laughs. "You're horrible at this."

"I don't exactly have a libero to save it, don't I?" You retort.

Tsukishima smiles a little, laughing at your loss point. "Give me the ball." You roll it to his side. "I want you to try and block me."

"The net is higher than it is for girls, you know." You approach the net. "I'll have a hard time."

"The higher you jump, the better you can block the ball. And you'll even have an advantage against your enemies since you're practicing with a higher net, (y/n)." He dribbles the ball.

Tsukishima called you by your first name.

Not your surname, not some insulting nickname. Your first name.

Your knees weaken at the sound of his voice dropping the phonemes of your name.

But when he flings the ball upwards, you feel your body go rigid. And just before his incoming ball passes through the net, you jump, fingers stopping the ball.

But the ball doesn't go to his side, instead it falls down below the net, at your side. You land clumsily on your feet, ankle bending but not painfully.

"See, you got it. You just have to jump higher."

"Shut up, you stilt walking clown." Your leg throbs, shaking. "Hit it again."

"See this?" Tsukishima brings his hands in the air, his arms and hands bent inward. "You block like this. Don't straighten your arms. It sets the ball upwards and they get the point since you're last touch. Block me again."

You kick the ball to his direction. Tsukishima springs the ball into the air once more, his arm flinging back when he jumps and strikes the ball towards you.

Filled with adrenaline, you jump as high as you could, your chest as high as the edge of the net, arms and hands bent inward as you block the ball and ricochet it towards him.

He doesn't do anything and watches the ball roll outside the court. Tsukishima's eyes shoot up and look at you, the corner of his lips bent downwards in amusement.

"Not bad. Try harder though."

You snarl at him.

Hours pass and you're both drenched in sweat. His shirt sticks to his chest, his hair damp across his forehead. He's wiping his face with a towel and his glasses rest on top of his hair. You drink from your water bottle.

The sweat drips down the tip of his nose, golden eyes drowsy yet vigorous with adrenaline. His lips are parted to pant out tired breaths, his adam's apple bobbing, the veins of his arms protruding. And he's sitting at the same bench as yours.

You swallow the liquid in your mouth.

"One day of practice isn't enough to get me into the club, Tsukishima." you say, wiping your mouth. "Thanks for teaching me though."

Tsukishima sets his towel down. "It's whatever. Your receives are go-fine, anyway. And you're really not that tall enough to block. You're hopeless."

"I wish Hinata was here to say that so he could yell at you."

Hinata. Tsukishima feels something uncomfortable rise to his chest when you mention his name.

And it seems as though you have summoned that tiny tangerine devil.

"Oh, Kageyama! The lights are open, someone must be here," your head turns and see that Hinata's hair pokes out the door before his head fully goes in. His eyes roam around until they find you. "Oh! (y/l/n)-san!"

"Hinata," you smile kindly. "Why are you guys still here? There's no training today."

"Tanaka-san said we can train for as much as we want as long as we don't tell Sawamura." he hops inside, Kageyama following suit behind him, unzipping his jacket. "What are you doing here, Stingyshima?"

"None of your business." He replies, irritation dripping off his sharp tongue from the nickname. "What do you think we were doing? Playing kendama?"

"I wouldn't mind playing kendama," Hinata looks at Kageyama, who shrugs. "Can we join?"

"Hopeless child," Tsukishima rubs his face with his towel again. "It's getting late. We should go home."

His usage of plural rather than sigular denotes that his usual selfishness has been decreased due to your unwavering presence, having been spent multiple hours with you for the past two days than usual. Tsukishima has easily adapted to include you in whatever he was going to do next.

We should go home.

"Aw, well, can you leave us the keys?" Hinata asks you. Tsukishima shoves the keys in the small boy's hand. "Thank you, Stingyshima!"

Tsukishima slings his bag over his shoulder, approaching the exit. He looks at Kageyama. "Fix your sets, your Majesty. You wouldn't want to clip the wings of Karasuno now, would you?"

You can see the smirk formed in his face. Kageyama is fuming, his fists clenching. "You– I...– You piece of shi– Hnmgh– You dumbass! Hinata!"

"Why me?!"

Tsukishima walks away without waiting for you, although you follow suit behind him. And when you reach the school gates, he turns right rather than left—and his way home begins with him turning left.

Yours was to the right.

"You gonna walk me home?" You joke, finally catching up behind him. Your weary legs has made you walk slower, though enough to now keep up with Tsukishima's tired pace.

"Yes."

Tsukishima doesn't spare a glance at you. But you look at him in shock. Then you shoot him an upsidedown smile, humming.

"No longer Stingyshima, I see."

"I ought to leave you here and get kidnapped." He states bluntly, finally looking down at you through his peripherals.

"Why are you walking me home then?"

"Because I want to take a long walk."

"Yeah sure, whatever." Your hands meet behind you, hitting the top of your bottom at every step you take. "You wanted to take a long walk. Could've gone to the park, could've roamed around your street. But yeah, you're walking me home so you could have a long walk back to your home."

Tsukishima tuts, his arms crossing. "Are you implying something, (y/n)?"

Your first name. Again.

"Oh, I'm not implying anything!" Your eyebrows raise, looking fully at him. And Tsukishima turns his head and looks at you as he walks. "I'm just stating what I've observed, Tsukki."

"Don't call me that."

"Okay!" You turn to your gate. When you reach inside the small box and pull on the lever of your door, you sense that Tsukishima is still standing behind you wth his hands in his pockets, watching you intently. So you turn around when the gate unlocks. "Yes? Do you need to use my bathroom first? Want a carton of milk or something?"

"No." He says. "Get in already."

You rest your back at your gate. "Tell me the real reason why you walked me home."

"No."

"So you lied to me earlier?"

"N-no."

"So what is it?"

Tsukishima sighs. Then he takes a few steps, approaching you and bends down so that his face would be equal to yours.

His scent is sweet, like freshly picked strawberries. And his lips, though thin, was soft and pink. And the tip of his nose grazes just above yours. And his golden eyes narrow to gaze at every speck of your irises. The corner of his lip turns upwards.

"That shut you up." He says. You blush, and he seems to taunt you. "Still want to play volleyball?"

His breath is hot fanning over your cold face. You can't help but nod. You swallow thickly from the close proximity that Tsukishima has created.

"Okay. Well, I still need help with english. And you obviously still need help with volleyball. So you reap what you sow. We'll help each other."

Tsukishima says those words like they're a command. Like they're being read from sacred scriptures. An event waiting to be happened for a prophecy to be fulfilled. Tsukishima's tone was flat but his voice deemed importance.

"Okay," was all you managed to let out through a breath. "See you tomorrow?"

Tsukishima stands up, eyes you up and down. Then looks into your eyes again and you swear that his gaze softens.

"See you tomorrow."

🏐—

A few weeks pass by.

At mornings, Tsukishima has come to pick you up and you studied on the way to Karasuno. You spend your lunches together, along with Yamaguchi, as well as Hinata and Kageyama who—while also bickering like children—listen to whatever you teach Tsukishima.

After classes, you find yourself joining the boys at the volleyball club, with Tsukishima helping you practice your blocks and receives. Though you notice that the boys take their strengths down a notch, which you are somewhat grateful for — because they truly are strong, and you're not ready to catch up to their level yet.

And at nights, Tsukishima walks you home with a milk carton in hand and sharp remarks in his mouth.

There's still a thick smoke of hatred that covers the both of you, that string of annoyance wrapped around your fingers. Yet as days pass by, that smoke has been thinning at every civil interaction. Albeit that annoyance still lingered.

And until today, that smoke has turned into this very light fog, until you begin to question why you hated Tsukishima in the first place.

Your phone vibrates.

tsukishima. Where are you? 8:32am

you. almost there. forgot my bag at home. 8:33am

tsukishima. Hurry up. It's cold outside. 8:33am

you. will do. sorry :| Read at 8:34am

Tsukishima is standing outside the gates of Karasuno, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed as you quickened the pace of your walk.

"You're so slow it's annoying," his eyebrows furrow. "Why'd you forget your bag? Idiot."

"You pressure me, douchebag." You flick the bridge of his glasses. He yelps. "Hurry. I want to study already. We have a quiz at 9."

When you and Tsukishima sit on your respective seats, you quiz each other with lazily scribbled flash cards. He seems to have absorbed the passed on knowledge and had answered the questions with ease.

So after the quiz, he seemed content; confident.

"How well did you think you did, beanpole?" You zip your bag.

"Well enough to beat your ass," he replies. Then, he does something new.

He smiles at you.

It wasn't a bright smile. Not energetic, but radiates some kind of light happiness. Seemed like a smile of gratitude.

You feel your cheeks flare.

After classes, you meet outside the gym as always, both of you changed into training clothes. Then you spend hours and hours jumping and tiring your wrists out, squeaking your shoes off the floor.

By the time the sun has set, Tsukishima was waiting for you again.

"Let's study."

Your eyes widen and you look startled. Tsukishima looks bored. "I'm pretty sure you got yourself covered for the rest of the year, Tsukishima."

"And I don't think you can train by yourself in volleyball," he adjusts his bag. "Let's just study. Reap what you sow."

"You keep saying that."

He ignores you. "Let's study at my place."

"E-excuse me?"

Tsukishima begins to walk to his direction. And despite your reaction, you follow him either way. "Let's study at my place for a change. I'm sick of your living room."

He says it like he's spent years hanging out in your living room. Your feet runs on the cobblestone to catch up with him. "But- What else are we gonna study?"

"Whatever I want."

His house wasn't actually that far from the campus. When you've turned a corner, he opens the gate and lets you in. When you enter his home, it's warm and clean, so you set your shoes aside and walk in your socks.

No one's home.

Tsukishima could've led you to their living room. Instead, he goes directly to his bedroom. And when you don't move, he looks at you through the door with a raised brow, as if to say "well? why aren't you getting in?"

So you do.

You sit on the edge of his bed, watching him unzip his jacket and set it aside. You decide to stop acting so wary and let you back fall to his bed, taking your phone out.

"So when are your tryouts?"

You look at him, placing your phone on your chest. "Next week. Michimiya was nice enough to let me try this late into the school year."

"I'll be there." He sits down on the other side of his bed.

"Oh," you're stunned. "Okay. Um, what do you want to study?"

You pull yourself up until your whole body is on his bed, sitting up and resting your back at his headboard. Tsukishima brings his legs to the bed, resting them beside your socked feet.

"Chemistry." This is new. "Can you run me through it?"

And you do. You take your notebook our and run him by all the lessons discussed for the past week. Tsukishima's pretends to listen but he actually doesn't.

Instead he's staring at your scar at your leg, up and down your very exposed thigh, but mostly at your scar.

You notice this immediately. "Tsukishima, why are you staring at my scar?"

"It's Kei," he looks at you, his hand resting just beside your calf, index finger twitching to trace the ridges of your scar. "Call me Kei."

Kei.

"Okay, Kei."

Your voice, filled with dulcets, his name sounding mellifluous as it rolls of your tongue. Tsukishima's heart beats wildly, and has decided to come with the terms that he hates you— because he likes you.

"Your scar looks... cool..." his index finger finally sets on the soft skin of your healed wound. You shiver at his featherlight touch.

And he's so near you now. As near as that time he walked you home and bent down to your height. And gods, he was so handsome. Even with his scratched glasses. Your mouth gapes the slightest, shaking hands reaching to remove the spectacles off his nose.

Tsukishima lets you. You see sweetness of his stare, all that hatred you used to see seemed to have melted and dripped from his sweat. This kind of Tsukishima is new– foreign, yet seemed right. Seemed destined to happen.

"Kei," you murmur. "What are you doing?"

"Is your skull too thick to process your environment?" his laugh leaves him in a huff, smirking.

"You're so eager for me to teach you something you're already good at so you could keep training me," your brows meet in the middle the slightest, a crease on your forehead that Tsukishima wants to wipe away. "Why?"

"Because you're good, (y/n)." He declares. "Your injury isn't stopping you to perform your best. You're just scared."

"Then why not just train me without me having to tutor you?"

"Because I don't want to lose these kind of moments." he whispers. "Jesus, (y/n), I like you. It's why I brought you here, for fuck's sake."

His lips are warm compared to his cold hands.

You gasp, though eyes fluttering shut, and your eyelashes tickle his soft cheeks. Your fingers wrap around his wrist as he holds your delicate face in the palm of his hands, careful not to hurt you as his lips remain planted on yours.

When Tsukishima pulls away, he's not far from you. His lips hover over yours, breathing your air, his forehead resting just slightly on yours. Your fingers come up to tangle themselves on his silky hair.

"Lose moments like what, make out with me?" you giggle. "If you wanted to make out, Kei, just tell me."

"You never shut up, do you?"

His lips meet yours again in an open mouthed kiss, his tongue unabashed to graze your shy muscle. You hum in surprise, feeling yourself fall backwards when he gently cradles your head to rest on his sweet-scented pillow.

Somehow, you did meet up with your end of the bargain, only with something better.

Something better– like his hips slanted against yours as his mouth spreads shameless ardor across your body.

Something better– like how he whispers your name against your lips like a sacred prayer before he kisses you again carefully.

Something better– like a newfound relationship with Tsukishima Kei, someone you swore was your enemy, but now was someone you could spend your days with in his bed getting warm in ways fire couldn't.

Tsukishima looks into your eyes, tells you his secrets through his dilating pupils. His calloused fingers push your hair behind your ears, and then he kisses your forehead, followed by silk petal kisses on the plump of your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and then your lips.

His hands wander beneath your shirt, palms no longer cold as they're heated by the fervor of your body.

"You're so pretty."

"What a sap." you tease. "You're in love with me."

"I am." His nose rubs against yours lightly. "I so am. I'm in love with a dumbass. My ego has exploded."

You hit his face with a pillow.

reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!

#tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima fluff #kei tsukishima x reader #tsukishima haikyu #tsukishima kei #haikyu x reader #haikyu fluff #haikyuu tsukishima #kei tsukishima #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x y/n #hq tsukishima

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beloveds-embrace · 22 days ago

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Fuck it, we ball, I hope that disrespectful anon gets hemorrhoids and they can't get them removed until next year, AND that their insurance doesn't cover it. I'm here thinking about your Omega idea where omegas normally do the pursuing, but with a slight twist; the boys being the omegas. An alpha who is for sure down bad for the boys, but thinks "ah, theyre out of my league, I should be aiming lower, manage my expectations". Only 141 is just as down bad for them, and they're doing everything just short of screaming "PICK UP ON THE HINTS, COME INTO OUR HOUSE AND BEDS AND LIVES AND STAY FOREVER PLEASE"

Johnny is about to say fuck decorum and just show up in reader's house wearing nothing but a ribbon and a tag that says 'free to a good home' (your home is the good one, please keep him, there is no receipt so you can't return him).

Price has the brain cell normally in terms of trying to gently coax you into getting you to say you're into them, he has a 15 step plan that may or may not involve using his various contacts to get you spending more time in close proximity to them. Also he for some reason is always baking, he always comes over asking you for sugar? (He'll take any kind of 'sugar' you're willing to offer, he loves making a variety of cream pies)

Gaz is always gently inviting them to attend 'friend' things, things that could be a date but that he can excuse as 'well we're coworkers/friends/neighbors, we should get along :)'. It's just a coincidence that various other people seem to bail except for any of the other boys, now why don't you sit beside him so you guys can share popcorn at the movies (you both always seem to be reaching for it at the same time, if your fingers touched anymore you might as well be holding hands)

Simon is chasing off any omegas he thinks are a threat to them getting reader, that is THEIR alpha, paws OFF (rip to anyone reader was halfheartedly going on dates with, this man is gonna become those people's sleep paralysis demon)

Hope you enjoy!! :3 💕💕 i lovedddd writing this sm omg

See, the thing is, you’d always thought of yourself as a decent Alpha. Not overbearing, not egotistical, not a demanding freak- just capable and steady. But you weren’t extraordinary. Not the kind of Alpha Omegas like them would look at twice. And so, while you worked alongside the men of Task Force 141 you convinced yourself to be content with just admiring them from a distance.

You couldn’t help it. They were perfect, as far as you were concerned. Perfect, and fully out of your league.

Surely, Omegas like them would want someone better. Someone stronger. You’d told yourself that so many times it was practically your mantra, the only way you’d be able to stop yourself from pursuing them. They deserved someone more charismatic, more confident- an Alpha who could match their brilliance. Not someone like you, fumbling through conversations with them, struggling to keep your feelings in check.

But they’d already decided. They didn’t need a flashy Alpha or someone who tried too hard. What they wanted was you. The only problem? You didn’t seem to realize it, no matter how obvious they made it.

John took the lead, naturally. He knew you were cautious and perhaps a little insecure when it came to relationships (it was fucking visible in you, silly Alpha. He scoffs each time you draw back, frustrated), so he made it his mission to draw you in- slowly and subtly. His plan was meticulous: get you comfortable, build trust, and create opportunities for you to spend more time with them so you’d see that they only want you.

Maybe then you’d break out of that stupid shell you’ve put yourself in.

He’d started baking regularly, a habit you hadn’t even known he had. At least once a week, he’d show up at your place with a tin of cookies, a loaf of fresh bread, or a perfectly golden pie. “Thought I’d share,” he’d say casually, though the slight smirk tugging at his lips told a different story. He peers at you, letting his scent coil just a bit more. “I hope you don’t mind the amount of cream. I happen to like cream pies a lot.”

The way to an Alpha’s heart is through their stomach, and all that.

If he wasn’t offering you baked goods, he was asking for your help to make said baked goods. “Ran out of sugar again,” he’d sigh, handing you an empty container. “Mind sparing a bit?”

It was ridiculous, downright unbelievable how often he supposedly ran out of baking supplies. But his visits became a highlight of your week, and the lingering looks he gave you left your heart pounding long after he was gone.

The one time he’d handfed you, watching you lick the syrup from his fingers with half-lidded eyes, still lives in your mind rent-free.

Kyle took a softer, more personal approach. He wasn’t above using the pretense of friendship to spend time with you, often inviting you to casual dates- grabbing coffee, going to the movies, or just walking through town and shopping. Every invitation was framed innocently, but there was always a little extra effort behind it. He’d pick a movie he knew you’d like, suggest places he knew you’d find interesting, and ensure that others you unfortunately knew joined just enough to make it seem less like a date.

Somehow, though, those other people always mysteriously canceled. It was never anything dramatic- just a sudden cold, a scheduling conflict, or a “something came up, sorry.” Eventually, it would be just you and a very smug Kyle, sitting close enough that your knees brushed or reaching for popcorn at the same time. Once, right as the bowl emptied and you both reached for it, Kyle simply thought fuck it and held your hand.

On one occasion, you both shared a bowl of spaghetti and ended up with the scene from the Lady and the Tramp.

It was so painfully obvious to everyone.

Except you.

“It’s not a coincidence,” Kyle muttered to Johnny one evening after you left, both of them sitting in the spot you were in, bathing in the leftover warmth and scent. “How can they not notice?”

Speaking of Johnny; he’s barely keeping himself together. Subtlety in missions are a must sometimes, but he doesn’t want to that with you anymore. He was just so, so, so frustrated with your obliviousness. What more does he need to do to show you that he- that they- want you?

He’s been dropping so many hints; half-jokes about Omegas waiting begging to be swept off their feet, suggestive winks when you compliment him in that lovely, adoring tone of yours. Once, while watching a romantic tv show, he’d sighed loudly and very pointedly said: “If only someone would claim me.”

“If ye don’t figure it out soon,” he growled at the others one night, pacing back and forth like a wild beast and probably on his way to leave a dent in the carpet, “I’m showin’ up at their doorstep with nothin’ but a red bow, like some bloody Christmas prezzie, I swear to god.”

John sighs, rolling his eyes. “You do that, and I’m leaving you on their porch.”

“That’s exactly what I’m askin’ for!”

Simon took the quietest but most direct approach. Just not exactly direct towards you. While the others worked to get closer to you, Simon focused on eliminating what he saw as obstacles: other Omegas who thought you were free for the taking. It didn’t matter if they were serious or just someone you’d gone on a casual date with- Simon saw them all as threats.

He didn’t have to say much to scare them off. A single cold glare from across the room, sharp bursts of his scent, or a low, menacing comment was usually enough to send them packing. He didn’t care if it was excessive.

You were his Alpha. You were their Alpha, and no one else had a right to you.

But even Simon softened when it came to you. He couldn’t put all his thoughts, all his feelings into words, so he did them with his actions. Quiet protectiveness, gentle, careful touches. Moments of fleeting vulnerabilities shared between you and him.

He was always there for you. Even if you didn’t know you need him with you.

Still, despite all their efforts, you remained convinced that they weren’t interested.

In the end, to no one’s surprise, it’s Johnny who snaps. Johnny, so close to his heat, so absolutely done with your obliviousness and the Omegas that aren’t them talking with you when you should be only focused on them.

He doesn’t care; leaves the carefully made nest with your stolen shirts and none of the others stop him when he just. Drags your surprised self to the nest.

“Johnny! You-“

“I want you.” He hisses, bares his teeth all sharp and desperate. “We want you. And damn it, we will have you.”

And well, who are you to even say no when this is all you have wanted?

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paranoiddreams · 19 days ago

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Hi, I don’t know if you’re accepting requests, but you could write something about JK where his girlfriend is accompanying them on tour and he keeps sneaking away without the managers and boys coming to sleep with her or take her to his bunk bed on the tour bus or to his hotel room... smuttt pls

OH MAMI✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

✧ idol!Jungkook x gn!reader

✧ WC!! - 1.42k

✧ Warnings!! - unprotected sex, jk is kinda mean!!!, he hitting it from the back😜, voyeurism(?), they almost get caught, or do they…, explicit language, idky but there’s smth going on with Yoongi, degradation, use of ‘slut’ once,

✧ A/n!! - I really hope you enjoy this, I hope it’s what you wanted! I love this request, and had so much fun writing it😻 The title is the song I thought fit this vibe ig, so if you want to check it out it’s by Chase Atlantic. Hope you all enjoy!! <3

“J-Jungkook, they’re right outside!”

Your sweet, caring, often naive, boyfriend Jungkook currently has you bent over the small, flimsy table in the tour bus he and the rest of the band are traveling the world in.

When he invited you to come with him on tour, you immediately said yes, because all of the times he was gone in the past felt like whole life times; It’s no secret you and Jungkook are inseparable. So, this year being a more laid back one, management decided it was okay for you to come this time. Although that decision in hindsight might not have been the best one to make.

Jimin and Taehyung can’t count the amount of times he thought he was talking to Jungkook walking behind him, only to turn around and see him glued to his phone, texting you about where to meet in the next few minutes. Namjoon swears he’s going to damage his voice from how much he’s been scolding the youngest for disappearing suddenly and coming back 20 minutes later with flushed cheeks and ruffled hair. Most of all, the whole band, including the staff, are annoyed by the obvious trips you and Jungkook take to the nearest utility closet at any hotel room before every concert.

But they’re not the only one’s slightly annoyed. You’ve told your insatiable boyfriend many times that he needs to control himself, but of course, he’s as stubborn as a dog. But then again, even if you’re vehemently opposed to his ‘adventurous’ rendezvous, you still always end up in this position.

Currently, you’re bent over the flimsy table of the tour bus, and Jungkook ramming his cock into you from behind while everyone is out stretching their legs; something you can’t help but be hyperaware of.

“J-Jungkook, they’re right outside!”

Your sweet, caring, often naive, boyfriend Jungkook is no where to be seen. When you look over your shoulder, you see his face contorted in blinding euphoria, his brows furrowed as he lets out low grunts of pleasure. He seems to not notice everyone right outside of the curtain-covered window he’s fucking you in front of, and if he does, he doesn’t pay any mind at all. You can barely hear a few voices underneath the sound of Jungkook’s cock slamming into you, making every little sound you or Jungkook let out seem 10x louder.

“W-We need to be quiet!” You stammer out in a hushed tone.

Although your mind is only occupied with trying not to get caught, your body is completely under the control of Jungkook’s rough thrusts. You’re clenching around him, dripping down your thighs and his cock to the carpeted floor of the tour bus while his fingers dig into the pliant skin of your hips.

“Yeah?” He growls condescendingly. “Better be quiet then, huh?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, your heart hammering in your ears as his growled words send shivers down your spine. You slam your palms down onto the table you’re bent over, your fingers turning white as you hold on for dear life from the pleasure ripping through your body.

“J-Jungkook! Please, you’re g-going too fast!” You manage to cry out through breathless pants. But your boyfriend only laughs in return, his warm breath hitting your shoulder.

He lifts his hands from your hips, his pelvis pressing against your ass as he slides himself all the way into you, staying there as he reaches around to grab both of your wrists. He holds them behind your back with one hand, using the other to cover your mouth. His chin rests on your shoulder as he turns his head to whisper in your ear, his lips brushing against your skin.

“I told you to be quiet,” he says in a low chiding tone, “do you want the others to walk in on us? To know how much of a fucking slut you are when they leave?”

A guttural, almost animalistic mewl leaves your lips, muffled by his palm, as he speaks into your ear. You feel him continue his brutal pace, slow but hard as he rams into your sore entrance. The thought of his words, to your surprise, send a rush of arousing embarrassment through your body, your thighs clenching together as you’re barely able to hold yourself up anymore.

Noticing this, Jungkook pulls out of you suddenly with a low hiss, uncovering your mouth and releasing your hands to grab your waist and flip you around. You barely even have time to gasp out his name before he’s lifting you up onto the table, pushing your thighs apart roughly.

“N-No! Don’t—!“ you start to protest, but cut yourself off with a strangled moan when he slams his leaking cock back inside of you, his hands hooked under your thighs to push them apart further.

“Look at you, making such a mess,” he whispers, looking into your eyes with an almost unrecognizable lust. Your eyes flicker down, catching a glimpse of his glistening cock pushing in and out of you, your combined fluid dripping onto the table beneath you. Your face flushes with heat, and you feel your second—maybe third?—orgasm starting to wash over you.

“Oh, fuck yes, baby,” he pants out, his dominant tone turning more desperate as he chases his own oncoming high, “god, you’re so tight when you cum around my cock…”

Your thighs shake as he holds them open, his thrusts becoming more sloppy and untimed as you pulsate and gush around him. As your euphoric high clouds your mind, and your judgment, you wrap your legs around his waist, holding him deep inside of you. Then you feel his warm cum spill into you.

“Fuck, y/n,” he whines when he looks down at you with heavy-lidded eyes. His hips rock softly into you a few more times as you suck him in and milk him completely. When he’s done, he goes slightly limp as he catches his breath, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

“You let me cum inside…” he whispers after a few moments, still a little delirious from his climax.

“Yeah,” you sigh, realizing what you did as the fog of lust clears in your mind, “I did…but only so we won’t have too much to clean up.”

Jungkook laughs adorably, as if he weren’t covered in your cum, his softening dick still buried deep inside of you. “Oh really? You made quite the mess too—“

Both you and Jungkook stop suddenly when the door to the tour bus jiggles, your eyes going wide.

In a moment of panic, Jungkook pulls himself out of you, tugging his jeans back on from around his ankles as you hop down to the ground to find your shorts. By the time you do find them under the table, the door opens, and Yoongi walks in.

“Yah—where’s y/n/n?” He asks in his usual grumpy tone, holding a bag of snacks from the gas station in his hands.

Jungkook flinches, determined to keep his eyes on Yoongi’s and not under the table where you’re trying to shimmy on your shorts as quietly as possible.

“Oh! Uh, she’s—uhm, she’s in the bathroom,” he stammers out, practically jumping to stand in front of the table, leaning against it to hide the obvious mess while he keeps his eyes on Yoongi.

After buttoning your shorts you freeze under the table, looking between Jungkook’s legs at Yoongi in front of him, the tour bus deadly silent.

“Okay,” he finally says after a few moments, “well when she comes back tell her I got those chips she likes.”

Jungkook nods with a painfully forced smile, holding a thumbs up for emphasis as he watches Yoongi walk towards the back of the tour bus. “Yup! I will!” He says, his heart pounding in his chest.

Once Yoongi is out of sight, Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief and squats down to look at you under the table.

“Are you okay?!” He asks with those big doe eyes you can never seem to stay mad at.

“Yeah, but now these shorts are ruined,” you grumble as you crawl out from under the table, cringing at the feeling of your and Jungkook’s combined cum sticking to your thighs.

Once you stand, Jungkook lets out an incredulous giggle, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to pull you against his chest. You stand there for a moment, basking in his warmth, until you both jump at the sound of Yoongi calling out from the back of the bus:

“Make sure to clean up the mess you both left!”

Seems like you’ll both need to work on your sneaking-around skills more.

Thank you to the lovely @kloserpeenguintiljk for requesting! I hope you enjoyed <3

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snowballseal · 3 months ago

Text

How they react to you having a lot of tattoos

LaDS X Reader

Anon Request: I was curious if you would be willing to write the boys reacting to a partner with a lot of tattoos? I feel like MC is pretty covered up and as someone with full sleeves and a large back piece, it’s always interesting to see how people react to seeing them.

Note: Y’all killing me with these fun requests 🥺 I love this. I only have a few minimalist tattoos, but I want MORE. Thank you for the lovely request, anon. The scenarios were fun to think of.

Word Count: who’s to say 🤷about 1000 each

---

Rafayel

The first time Rafayel sees your tattoos is when you go on a date to the beach. You’re not even thinking about it as you change in the bathroom. When you decided to become a hunter, you knew you would have to cover up your tattoos. The policy, while being outdated in your mind, isn’t all that bothersome since you prefer to wear long sleeves anyways.

So it never occurred to you that Rafayel had never seen the full expanse of the ink on your body.

Which is why, when you step out and his eyes go impossibly wide as he looks at you, mouth dropping open, you’re first and foremost confused.

“What?”

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you feel an inkling of insecurity curl in your chest as you look down at your two-piece. It’s nothing immodest, just a blue bikini that you thought was cute and also met your standards for support. It’s a little frilly, but a part of you thought he’d love that.

“Do you not like it? I don’t uh, I don’t have anything else to wear…” Your voice comes out uncharacteristically meek.

That seems to snap Rafayel out of his daze. The artist shakes his head, the tips of his ears going positively red, as he still can’t rip his eyes from the lines decorating your skin. He reaches out, tracing the gentle petals of a flower on your waist.

“How come you’ve never shown me these, cutie?” He asks, voice touched with awe.

Oh. Heat creeps up your neck. So that’s what he was on about. You glance down at your body. You suppose it is a little jarring. It’s not like you’re covered head to toe, but you’re definitely a well covered canvas. Both of your arms have partial sleeves that curl up around your shoulders and continue along your collarbone. A large collection of flowers adorns the right side of your waist, traveling down your hip and turning into a pattern of vines down your leg. You have a few other ones, some silly, some heavy with meaning.

“Sometimes I forget I have them,” you admit a bit bashfully. Rafayel gives a low hum and your breath catches as his fingers continue to trace the lines on your waist, his touch warm and ticklish. “I’ve had some of them since before I started training.”

“I have to say, I’m a bit jealous that another artist has touched your body,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something low. His hand slips around your waist, drawing you closer so he can trace his lips over the intricate ink on your collar bone, ocean eyes glinting up at you with something possessive yet overflowing with adoration. “But even I have to admit this is beautiful work. Befitting my queen.”

Your cheeks go warm. As red at the tips of his ears. There’s something so reverent about his touch and it makes your heart flutter wildly, but you’re all too keenly aware that you’re still in public.

Not that it stops you from poking the fish.

“Would it make you feel better to know my newest one is for you?” You ask, reaching to touch his cheek with a teasing smile.

Rafayel’s face lights up. He draws back immediately, looking over your tattoos like an eager child until he spots the fresher ink on your left leg. You stifle a giggle as he drops to his knees, fingers curling around your ankle to pull your leg off the ground so he can get a better look.

“Rafayel!” You bark out a laugh, balance stolen away. It forces you to lean on him just so you don’t fall over. “Geez, I could have just sat down, you know!”

“This is for me?” Rafayel, oblivious to your complaints, grazes his fingertips tenderly along your skin.

Shaking your head, you give his hair a playful fuss, “Yes, you impatient fish. It’s not done yet, but it’s about us.”

It’s the beginnings of an ocean scene. A beach circles right above your ankle, depicting the silhouettes of two younger kids, their hands clasped in a promise. As the ink continues up your leg, it transforms into what looks like a night sky, but instead it’s water, swirling lines of blue and purple, full of schooling fish, one in particular standing out, bright red among the cool tones. A familiar symbol. And on the back of your calf swims a graceful looking figure, reaching for the light, edges blurred between fish and man and water.

A lump forms in Rafayel’s throat as he touches the red fish, a familiar warmths spreading across his chest as the same symbol glows faintly. Seeing it on you fills him with an emotion he can’t quite explain.

“You do realize what this means, right?” Those ocean eyes flicker up to you. They glint like dark pearls, iridescent and beautiful, yet carry a depth of emotion that makes your breath catch.

“I do,” you answer unwaveringly.

Rafayel’s lips pull into a small smile. He never expected someone to do something like this for him. Though, of course you would. And it’s beautiful.

“It’s a stunning piece,” he murmurs eventually, leaning forward to press a kiss to your knee, right above the ink, his hair tickling your thigh, “Though I still think the canvas is the most beautiful thing of all.”

A snort escapes you and you bite your lip, heat rushing back to your cheeks, “You’re ridiculously corny, Rafayel.”

“I know.” His smile shifts into a wolfish grin as he stands up, scooping you into a hug. You squeal as he spins you around, holding on tightly despite knowing he’d never drop you. It’s only when you’re positively red that he stops, his mirthful eyes watching your face. “It’s worth it if I get to see this face. I swear, cutie, if you do more things like this, I might become unbearable.”

“You never could,” you giggle and loop your arms around his neck, “Though, I was thinking maybe next time, you could come with me?”

Rafayel raises an eyebrow, “Oh? You want to get matching tattoos? I’ll admit, I’ve never considered it…but if it’s with you, I can’t think of anything more fitting.”

“You’ll have to design it, of course,” you hum, tone turning a little more excited, “Oh, I can’t wait! It’ll be so fun! We can do it the next time I take a break, and after swimming season, obviously.”

Leaning in, Rafayel gives you a short kiss, laughing against your lips, “Anything you want, my lady. As long as it’s with you, I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

---

Zayne

The first time Zayne sees your tattoos is when you reunite at Akso. You’re not sure how long it’s been, having only seen him every so often at Grandma Josephine’s for dinner. All you know is that he’s been busy, and is now one of the most remarkable young doctors in Linkon.

And also your new primary care physician.

“Knock knock.”

You rasp your knuckles lightly against the door to his office, eyes lingering on the nameplate displayed prominently beside it. A strange sense of pride swells in your chest. To think, your childhood best friend would reach such heights.

“Come in,” Zayne calls, voice as aloof as ever.

You slip into his office and let the door shut behind you. The doctor sits at his desk, flicking through a file on his tablet. You hesitate on the edge of his peripherals, not sure exactly what to do or how to act. It’s been a long time since you two have been truly close, not since- But you’ve missed him.

A lot.

“My apologies, my previous surgery ran longer than expected so I am still collecting your records.” You blink, his voice drawing you back out of your thoughts. “You may take a seat if you’d like.”

“Okay.”

Maybe you’re the only one who feels weird about it. He seems completely unaffected, like you’re a normal patient, ever the professional. You awkwardly drag a stool a little closer to his desk, just far enough to not seem weird and so it doesn’t feel like you’re looking over his shoulder.

After the silence goes a tick too long, you can’t help but break it, fingers fiddling nervously with your sweater, “How have you been, Doctor Zayne?”

A faint smile ghosts across his lips. You haven’t changed one bit.

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking. Work has become quite constant, so I’m afraid I haven’t been able to accept many of Josephine’s dinner invitations.” His eyes dart over to you briefly before focusing back on his screen. “You look like you’ve been doing well since we last saw each other.”

“I have,” you chirp, anxiety easing up a bit, “I’m really close to being finished with training and finally joining the Hunters Association. You should try to make it to dinner this week though! Grandma really misses you. She talks about you all the time.” You falter, cheeks warming a little. “...We’re all really proud of you, Zayne.”

Zayne’s fingers freeze against the tablet. An indecipherable look crosses his face, but he schools his features quickly and gives you a small smile.

“Thank you…you both have always been so kind to me,” he murmurs and finally turns to face you, “I’ll try my best to make it to dinner this week.”

Your face lights up, excitement sparking in your eyes. “Okay! I’ll let her know! She’ll probably make all your favorites. They haven’t changed, right?”

Zayne shakes his head, and you can’t help but kick your feet giddily. It’ll be nice to catch up. You have so many questions, and also so many stories to tell from your training days.

“Now that those plans are made, shall we proceed with your exam?”

“Right, right.” You almost forgot that’s what you’re here for. Nerves coming back, you shuffle on top of the stool. “What do you need me to do?”

“First, if you would remove your jacket, I’ll take your blood pressure and listen to your heart,” he instructs, voice settling back into something professional and neutral.

As Zayne turns away to fetch whatever tools he needs, you make quick work of taking your jacket off. The room is a little chillier than you expect. You wrap your arms around yourself to chase away the goosebumps that erupt across your skin. Your eyes stay glued on Zayne though, watching as he pulls a stethoscope and blood pressure monitor from one of his drawers.

“Do you usually do exams in your office?” You ask offhandedly.

“Not usually. As a cardiothoracic surgeon, I don’t often conduct general exams,” he hums, cleaning off the blood pressure cuff with a sterile wipe.

“Am I special or something, then?”

“With the rarity of your protocore syndrome, I thought it would be most effective to handle your care myself, yes. Though if it makes you uncomfortable we can-”

Zayne’s words cut off as he finally looks back at you. Surprise flickers across his face.

You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, though you don’t know why. Is there something on your face? A stain on your tank top? You glance down, finding nothing of the sort.

“What? What is it? Do I have something on me?” Your hands flicker up to your face, but you don’t feel anything.

Zayne blinks and shakes his head as if coming out of a stupor. The lightest blush warms his ears.

“My apologies. I just wasn’t aware you had so many tattoos.”

Oh. Holding out your arms, you look over the expanse of ink on your skin. You guess it’s a lot. It has taken you a few years, but you’ve effectively covered your arms and shoulders in art. Most of it is florals, with small, meaningful symbols or items hidden in the foliage. You also have a few others, though they’re covered by your clothes.

“I guess you wouldn’t have seen them,” you hum thoughtfully, “I wear a lot of long sleeves to Grandma’s dinners. And work requires us to cover them up.”

“They’re quite intricate.” He sets his tools aside, drawing his chair closer to you. His hand reaches for your arm, but pauses, his eyes darting up to yours. “May I?”

“Go for it,” you whisper, feeling a little bashful now that his attention is focused solely on you.

His fingers graze your wrist lightly, as if he’s scared to press too hard. You watch as he silently turns your arm over, taking in every minute detail of your tattoos. He lingers a little longer on the small, anatomical heart at the center of it all, surrounded by gentle jasmines. They’re incredibly well done, even he can see that, and they all look like they were done some time ago.

Something melancholic and sentimental settles in his chest.

“I remember when you were just a little girl, crying over her popsicle…You truly are all grown up now, aren’t you?” His voice is thick with something you can’t quite pinpoint, his touch turning impossibly tender as he traces the lines up your elbow.

Your heart flutters a little too wildly for your likings. “You’re all grown up too, mister chief cardiac surgeon. That’s a lot bigger than some tattoos.”

Another smile pulls at his lips, breaking his impassive facade.

“These have all healed well, though,” Zayne says, a spark of mischief flickering in his eyes as that strange emotion recedes, “You must have taken good care of them, and that alone is an impressive feat for you. That’s how I know you’ve grown up.”

A mock gasp escapes you and you pull your hand away to press it against your chest. If only to break the contact so he doesn’t notice your racing pulse.

“Doctor Zayne, I am deeply offended at your insinuation,” you insist vehemently, “I am a responsible person, soon to be an amazing hunter! I know how to take care of myself.”

“Says the woman who walked on a sprained ankle for a week out of pure stubbornness.”

“How was I supposed to know it was sprained?”

“I told you it was.”

---

Xavier

The first time Xavier sees your tattoos is after a mission that doesn’t go quite right. You come home with a bandage wrapped around your shoulder and chest, and the added instructions to change the gauze once a day. Which, of course, you can’t do yourself.

“Xav?”

Xavier glances up from where he’s sitting in the sun, a book long forgotten in his lap. Those sleepy blue eyes land on you questioning. You shuffle awkwardly in the doorway, a roll of gauze in your hand.

“Would you help me real quick?” You mumble, a soft blush warming your cheeks, “I can’t uh, I can’t change them myself.”

“Of course,” he hums immediately, standing and stretching languidly, much like a cat. “I am at your service, my lady.”

“Thanks,” you sigh, shoulders sagging, which sends a twinge of pain down your arm.

It was a nasty cut. You had been so focused on fighting one wanderer that you hadn’t noticed another smaller one appearing behind you. It was your fault, and thankfully it didn’t hit anything serious, but it was in just the right place to make moving your arm difficult.

Xavier silently leads you back into the kitchen. Taking the bandages from your hand, he pulls out a chair and motions for you to sit. You do so carefully, not wanting to jostle your body too much. The hunter sets the gauze aside and kneels down in front of you, his fingers finding the hem of your sweater and pausing, placid blue eyes turning up to you in question.

Ever the gentleman.

A tiny smile pulling at your lips, you offer him a small nod. That’s all he needs to pull it off, his hands moving slowly, with the utmost care. Thankfully, the room isn’t too cold, the setting sun pouring through the window and warming the space. The fabric musses your hair as he slips it over your head, and you instinctively reach up to fix it.

Completely missing the way Xavier’s eyes go wide as he looks down at you.

There aren’t a lot of things that catch the hunter off guard. But the ink covering your skin certainly does. Even with the bandages, he can tell it’s expansive, curling around your shoulders, dipping down your upper arms, painting the entirety of your back. It’s reminiscent of Starry Night, hundreds if not thousands of strokes forming delicate lines that follow the natural curves of your body, flowing so beautifully that they practically beg his fingers to trace them.

And as always with you, Xavier has a startling lack of self-control.

You blink at the feeling of his fingers grazing your uninjured shoulder. His touch is so light, you could almost mistake it for a breath. Almost like he’s worried he’ll hurt you.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, voice twinged with concern as you try and twist to look at where his touch lingers against your skin.

“Stay still,” Xavier orders gently, and you freeze, brows arching in confusion. Realizing you're panicking a little, the hunter leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, offering a soft explanation, “You never told me you have so many tattoos. I simply want to appreciate them.”

“Oh.” Your nerves fizzle out, replaced with an embarrassed tinge of excitement. So that’s what this is about. “I forgot I haven’t shown you them yet. I guess I’m so used to them that I forget they’re there, especially since I have to cover them for work.”

Xavier shifts behind you, fingers following the lines over your shoulder. They bleed into a wash of color, dark blue and purple and pink splashes across your back. A small planet of light sits between your shoulder blades, numerous stars dancing around it. His touch lingers on the planet, a flicker of light spilling from his fingers as his evol reacts unprovoked.

“What made you choose this?” He asks, voice wavering imperceptibly.

“I’m not sure,” you hum, shrugging your good shoulder, “I’ve always liked space. My grandma used to take me to the planetarium a lot when I was young, and I used to have dreams about it, of floating between planets and exploring the stars. I always felt drawn to this one planet, it was so pretty and it looked like it was made of light, but I could never reach it…”

Philos.

Something twinges in Xavier’s chest. How strange. You don’t remember the planet, that’s for certain, yet some part of you was still connected to it. To your home. To him. All this time…

“It’s beautiful,” he all but whispers.

Heat tinges your cheeks. That’s not usually what people say. It’s not for everyone, you know that. It’s a lot of ink, but you dreamt for so long about getting it. Still, most people usually just make offhand comments, not exactly rude, but not exactly compliments either. Like, oh that must have hurt a lot. Or, you must have saved a lot of money, huh?

Never beautiful.

And yet Xavier traces your ink with what almost feels like admiration. It makes your heart flutter with an uncharacteristic shyness, shoulders jolting up to your neck.

That’s when you remember your injury.

Letting out a low hiss, you drop your shoulder quickly as pain sizzles down your arm. Both of you had practically forgotten about it, caught in the moment. Xavier’s brow furrows again, an apology floating past his lips as he draws his fingers away - much to your disappointment.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, offering him a weak smile, “I just pulled it a little funny. We should probably check it, though.”

“Alright, I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs as he reaches for the edge of your bandage.

“...Thanks, by the way.”

You’re not sure what exactly you’re thanking him for. Helping you or his sweet reaction to the art decorating your skin. Maybe both.

And Xavier must know. He leans down, lips ghosting over your shoulder is an adoring kiss.

“Of course, my star.”

---

Sylus

The first time Sylus sees your tattoos is, of course, on the night you attend the auction. There’s no hiding the ink covering your body when you’re wearing a dress, after all. If anything, though, you think they’ll help you fit in a little better in the N109 Zone.

And you love the reaction Sylus gives you when you step out into the foyer.

For the briefest moment, his eyes go wide. Shock, perhaps the rarest emotion you’ve never had the pleasure of seeing on him, flashes behind those carmine eyes. In an instant, it disappears though, hidden with his usual cocky expression, one of his fine brow ticking up in amusement.

“I’ll admit, sweetie,” the man hums, “You’ve surprised me.”

You flash him a cat-like grin, satisfaction burning deep in your veins, and give a little theatrical spin, “Not what you were expecting, huh?”

Hardly a single part of your body remains untouched by ink. Most of the designs are artistic. Flourishing lines twisting and curling around your muscles, strangely reminiscent of the form his evol takes. They form a network of delicate webs across your body, sometimes forming shapes, sometimes with words written along the fine linework.

It’s hauntingly beautiful. Sylus can’t help but let his eyes slowly rove over your form, taking in every detail. They’re like a map, and his fingers are itching to explore every part of you, to see just how far the ink slips below the hem of the dress. A dress which he bought for you yet can’t be bothered to even notice now, not with such a dazzling sight set before him.

“Who knew the kitten would turn into a tigress at night,” he murmurs, voice going low and teasing as he slowly circles around you, a predatory glint in his eyes.

Your boldness wavers.

Sylus always seems to have that effect on you. Like a lamb straying from the herd and being found by the wolf. Prey before a predator starved, maw open and hungry, as if he could consume you whole. And all you can do is hold your ground, even if your legs shake, like that little lamb’s.

“Careful, Sylus,” you whisper, trying to appear unshaken by not following him with your eyes, despite the unease you feel not knowing exactly where he is, “This tiger has claws.”

You feel more than hear his presence come up behind you. A shiver traces down your spine when his breath skates over your ear, warm and far too intentional. In the same way, his fingers trace reverently down your arm, following the path of your ink, until they can intertwine with yours and draw your hand up to his lips.

“And that’s how I prefer you.” His voice is low, a mere rumble against your skin as he kisses your knuckles. Another shudder. “After all, it would be a shame to declaw such a beautiful creature. Even if she likes to scratch.”

God, you hate him.

You hate that it takes everything in you to rip yourself away from his enticing warmth. You hate that your heart is racing against your ribs, like it’s trying desperately to escape. And you especially hate the absolutely smug grin that plays on his lips (and the fact that you want to kiss it so badly).

“You’re teasing me,” you breathe unsteadily, putting space between the two of you.

Something dark flashes in his eyes, “Whatever do you mean, sweetie? I was merely giving you a compliment.”

“Then you give weird compliments,” you fire back, arms wrapping around yourself. “It sounds more like you’re making fun of me.”

Sylus pauses. Those ruby red eyes narrow on you thoughtfully, his lips pressing into a thin line. A tick of silence. Then his expression smoothes into something almost soft, and he takes a few measured steps towards you. Long fingers graze your palm again. A question.

And you give in far too easily, not fighting as he intertwines your fingers once again. His other hand skirts along your exposed shoulder, following the lines of your tattoo as they fade at your neck. You’re frozen under the sudden tenderness of his touch, your pulse racing against his fingertips.

“My apologies, kitten. That wasn’t my intention,” he murmurs, eyes boring into yours with an unnerving genuineness, “I simply meant that your tattoos are...befitting of your character. You are truly…” He looks you over once more, his gaze leaving a tantalizing heat in its wake. That dangerous smile curls his lips again. “Captivating.”

You inhale shakily.

No one has said something like that to you before. Not that you can remember, at least. It would sound cheesy from someone else, but from Sylus? The intensity of his tone leaves you feeling as unsteady as your heart. Lightheaded.

All you can do is blink up at him, eyes wide and doe-ish. No smart retort or comeback. Your mouth, in fact, feels remarkably dry. It fills the man with a touch of pride, rendering you so speechless.

Not one to let you stay dumbfounded for too long, though, Sylus lets out a smooth chuckle and taps your chin, “Careful, sweetie. If you look at me like that, I might just think you’re falling for me.”

Which of course works. Because he knows you better than you know yourself.

“I am not!” You squawk, face going up in flames. “You just surprised me, that's all! I didn’t know you were capable of such niceties.”

Sylus grins, drawing away as you swat at his hand, “Then it seems that we’re even.”

You scowl at him. So not fair.

“Now, would you like to accompany me to this auction, sweetheart?” He offers his arm. You keep your pout up for only a few seconds before giving in and slipping your hand around his elbow begrudgingly. Sylus hums in amusement, leaning in to press a ghost of a kiss against your cheek. “Looking like this, you’ll have no trouble getting the results you’ve been searching for, tonight. You’ll be the perfect distraction, my dear.”

“Well then, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?”

---

Not gonna lie, Sylus' was probably my favorite. In my head I was kind of picturing the tattoos that Anthony Padilla has (from smosh, yes, sue me), and I just think he would totally call you a tiger since he likes calling you kitten.

Hope y'all enjoyed!

I'm really feeling some angst next possibly...

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jayparked · 1 month ago

Note

hii!! congrats on 1k! ^^ can i perhaps get 47 + 75 with jungwon? <33

"jungwon, please! it's too much!" you cry out, tears staining your cheeks while your boyfriend relentlessly pounds into your pussy. he has you sitting on top of the bathroom sink in some random person's house, the music from the party downstairs vibrating the walls around you. it's the one thing you try to focus on in order to hang onto your sanity. jungwon has already made you come twice now and he's showing no signs of stopping anytime soon.

he watches the spot where your bodies connect carefully, lips parted slightly as he pants with each hardened thrust. his tongue pokes out to swipe along his bottom lip before he looks into your eyes, his own cloudy with determination.

"not stopping," his words come out ragged as he continues to put everything he has into each thrust, "someone else thinks they can fuck you better? im gonna make you come so many times on my cock that you'll never doubt that i'm the only one who can do this to you. only i get to ruin you like this, you hear me?"

"wh-? what are you talking about?" your eyelids are fluttering now and you're desperate to ignore the way your bruised walls clench around him.

"heard some guy talking about you, eye fucking the hell out of you too. said he could probably make you come in less than five minutes," jungwon scoffs, "well i made you come in one minute. and i bet i can do it faster if we were at home." a darkness flicks across his iris's and suddenly he's gripping you even tighter, moving your legs higher up on his waist.

"i want you to scream my name," growling, jungwon grabs your hips and pulls your body in pace to his thrusts, each one harder than the last and it's a miracle you can even understand what he's saying with the way you're so fucked out.

"th-there are people outside this door. you want everyone to know we're having sex?"

"well, this isn't about them now is it?" he grows more aggressively, lips now attached to your collarbone, nipping and sucking on your flesh until pretty little red marks appear.

you try to hold on, you really do. but jungwon lifts you off the counter and holds you against his body, using his upper body strength to bounce you on his cock while he leans against the bathroom wall. the squelching is getting louder as your ability to hang on dissipates.

"fuck! yes! jungwon right there! oh my god jungwon please!" you dig your nails into his shoulders and flex your leg muscles around his waist, his pace still not letting up.

you were doing just fine until suddenly, jungwon's voice drops to a lower register, his tone even and demanding, "that's it baby. tell everyone i'm the only one who can ever make you feel this good."

suddenly, without any warning, you're releasing on his cock once again, his name leaving your lips with a scream that rips through the house right as the music goes silent between changing songs.

for part of my 1k follower celebration send me a member and a number from this list and i'll write a short drabble about it ♡ masterlist

#tysm :)#jayparked 1k drabble event #jungwon smut #jungwon hard hours #jungwon hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #jungwon x you #jungwon x reader #jungwon x y/n #enhypen x you #enhypen x reader #enhypen x y/n

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soaps-mohawk · 9 months ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 16: Big Brown Eyes

Summary: Things have returned to normal, or at least they seem to have. Nothing can ever go your way, though, can it?

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7925 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral sex, face sitting, grinding, spanking (it's like once and not even on the ass), Kyle is definitely a munch, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, reader is a little shit, angst, PTSD, nightmares, trauma, mommy issues, family issues, language, the author's bias showing just a tad.

A/N: Have you ever cried while writing smut? I have. Had two mental breakdowns during the course of this chapter, the worst of the two during the smut scene. Sobbing while writing the reader getting her back blown out? That's a new one for me. But, I did it. I finished Chapter 16 this week. I'm feeling significantly better than I was, at least physically. Giving it to you a day early because I feel bad about not posting last week. The events of this chapter pick up pretty much where the previous one left off. Timeline wise, this chapter is spread over roughly a week-ish. And special thanks to the battle rattle anon for inspiring part of this chapter 🫶

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(This is my all time favorite gif of him I swear I stare at it way too much)

You’re clawing at the door frame, desperately clinging to the last thing you can hold on to, the last shred of your life as you know it. You fight the hands pulling at your arms, threatening to pull you away from the comfort, the warmth, the safety of your home, of your pack.

Your mothers grief-stricken sobs reach your ears, her cries of desperation as they rip you from her, your father’s hate filled gaze directed at you over her shoulder as he holds her back. She loves all her children, but you were always her favorite. The bond between you two was always the strongest.

Now you know why.

The arms rip you from the doorframe seconds before the door slams closed. It’s like a gavel strike declaring your fate, cutting you off from everything you knew. You’re pulled back from the door, from the house that had become your safe space, from the pack inside.

They’re not your pack anymore. The thought is like a sharp knife, severing the lifelong bond in your mind. You’re not a part of them anymore. You’re alone in this world, cut off from what you knew, and it’s all your fault.

If only you could have presented as an alpha, like you were supposed to.

You’re sobbing, breaths coming in choking gasps. Your chest feels tight, your body tense and aching as you fight against the constricting hold around you.

“Easy, easy.” A deep voice murmurs in your ear, your senses beginning to return. “Yer alright, kitten.”

Your breaths continue to come in shaky gasps as you start to recognize your surroundings. You’re in Johnny’s room still. His arms are wrapped tight around you, your own pinned against your chest. You had fallen asleep before you even realized it, exhausted after your night with Johnny.

“Ye were havin’ a nightmare.” He says, projecting his natural beta scent in an attempt to get you to relax.

You squeeze your eyes shut, letting the scent start to numb your brain. The tears continue to slide down your cheeks, but slowly your breathing begins to normalize. Johnny begins to loosen his hold around you, not letting you go, but enough that you don’t feel like you’re being constricted anymore.

“Si gets them too.” Johnny continues, speaking quietly. His breath is warm as it fans your ear, reminding you that you’re awake now, and your nightmare is behind you. “Woken up tae elbows and fists in my face many times.”

You keep your eyes closed, taking in deep breaths as Johnny lays with you in silence, his fingers gently stroking your arms. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. You hadn’t meant to have a nightmare. Not in front of them. You knew it would happen eventually, but you had hoped you could avoid it as long as possible.

You don’t want to reveal your weakness, your pain, your inner struggle to them. They have enough of their own, they don’t need to know how broken you are too.

You lay there, slowly calming your breaths and the slight tremble in your limbs as you wait for Johnny to begin questioning you. He’ll want to know, he’ll want to hear what it is that’s plaguing your mind. You’ll have to tell him, you’ll have to explain everything and then he’ll want to know more. He’ll want to unearth the brokenness and the pain that you’ve buried so deeply like an archaeologist looking for the secrets of an ancient civilization.

You don’t want to reveal it, you want to bury it again, lock it back in the recesses of your mind where it can’t hurt you. You want to compress it back down until you feel safe again without the threat of the past hanging over your head.

Johnny continues to relax his hold around you as you begin to calm down again, the tears finally slowing to a stop. You take deep breaths, trying to match Johnny’s even breathing behind you. You wait for it, the inevitable question, the prodding, the digging. He’ll want answers, he’ll want to know what plagues your mind, how much it’s been happening, why you haven’t said anything.

You’re not sure how much time passes as you lay there, counting breaths. It’s silent in the room, in the barracks. Even outside it’s quiet, as if the world is holding its breath, waiting patiently for the shoe to drop, for the truth to get revealed.

You can't wait any longer. The tension is too thick, the thought of waiting for the question to break the silence is too much. You'll rip the bandaid before he can try and force it from you. “I don't-”

“Ye don't have tae tell me.” He cuts you off before you can even start, the words slicing through yours, stopping you from spilling your darkest, innermost thoughts. “We all have them sometimes. No shame in that.” He tightens his grip on you for a moment, pulling you closer against his chest. “Simon doesn't even tell me all of his. Thinks he might scare me off, or somethin'. I'm no’ gonnae force ye to tell me anythin’ if ye don’ want to.”

You're taken aback by his words. You suppose they all have to be plagued by nightmares of their own, with the kinds of things they have to see when they're in the field. Ghost had told you a bit about the nightmares that haunt him, and that had only been one tragedy, one mission. You suddenly feel silly. The kinds of things you’re afraid of, the nightmares that terrify your mind suddenly seem inconsequential to the things they must dream about at night.

You wiggle in Johnny’s arms until you’re facing him, his eyes half closed as he stares down at you. You shift forward, pressing your face against his bare chest. His head tucks so his chin rests against the top of your head as he holds you, his breathing slowing just slightly as he drifts back to sleep. You don’t sleep, laying there awake as you listen to the slow, rhythmic beating of Johnny’s heart.

He’s snoring quietly, breath fanning across your hair as he sleeps peacefully. You let your fingers trail over his skin as you wait for his early alarm that will signal the end of your quiet moments of bliss, snapping you both back into your realities. You trace the scars lining his skin, all of them with their own stories, just like John’s.

He makes a garbled, snorting noise as your fingers brush over his ribs, his entire body twitching. His hand moves, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “Tickles.” He murmurs, lifting your arm so it’s draped around his neck. He's asleep almost immediately, as if he hadn't woken at all from your tickling.

You continue to lay there as he sleeps, your mind drifting between sleep and your racing thoughts until Johnny’s alarm goes off. He groans, reaching across you to turn it off. He lays still, breath still fanning over the top of your head. For a moment you’re worried he’s fallen asleep again, but eventually he moves, rolling on top of you.

He presses his face against your neck, letting out a quiet groan. He’s heavy, but a solid weight above you. It’s comforting, the weight of him like a blanket keeping you safe. He presses gentle kisses against your neck, his fingers trailing across your shoulder before brushing over your mark. You let out a whine, arching against him.

“Screamin’ Jesus.” He curses, getting hard against your thigh.

“Don’t you have to go work out?” You ask as he begins to grind against you.

“Would rather stay here with you.” He growls against your throat.

“Won’t you get in trouble?” You gasp, bucking up against him.

“Worth it.” He grunts, kicking the sheets off the end of the bed.

“Someone missed the morning workout.” Kyle says as you and Johnny sit down at the table for breakfast. You’re the last ones there, despite Johnny skipping his early morning workout.

You take your normal spot between Kyle and John, sitting gingerly on the hard bench. There’s still a distinct ache between your thighs from Johnny’s enthusiasm and intense stamina last night and this morning.

“Aye, don’t worry. I still got a good workout in.” Johnny says cheekily, winking across the table at you.

You’re afraid you may combust as the other three pairs of eyes at the table look at you. It’s no secret what you were doing last night, or this morning. Johnny, as in most aspects of his life, is loud in bed. Kyle had known you were going to, and so had Simon, but you find your gaze turning to John as your face warms.

You’re not quite sure what you’re expecting as you look at him. It’s not like he had forbidden you from pursuing relationships with the others, or even shown any distaste at the idea. You were open to love the other members of the pack, just as they did one another, just as he did.

His face is stoic as he stares at you, before it begins to lighten, a gleam shining in his eyes. “Did he take good care of you?” He asks, the corner of his lips twitching.

You swallow thickly, your face getting warmer as you nod. “Yeah.”

“Good.” John grins. “ Then I suppose I can forgive him for sleeping in this morning, so long as it doesn’t become a habit.” He casts his glance across the table.

“I’m a bad influence.” You say, spooning porridge into your mouth.

“Certainly worth the trouble, though.” Johnny says, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “Especially when you do that thing with your tongue-”

Johnny’s words are cut off with a pained yelp as Ghost kicks him under the table. “Don’t go spilling all her tricks.” He grumbles, eyeing the tables around you.

You think your face might be permanently warm at the thought of anyone nearby hearing the topic of your conversation. Of course they know, but hearing about it was something entirely different.

Kyle walks you back to the barracks after breakfast, your hand in his, fingers laced together. His thumb rubs the back of your hand absentmindedly, shoulders brushing as you walk. Neither of you say anything, but you don’t have to. Unlike Johnny, Kyle is happy to exist in silence. They’re so very different, despite both being betas.

Your brothers had often joked about betas being boring, and how glad they were that neither of your parents were betas. You’d disagree now, after spending some time around betas. They’re just as complex as alphas and omegas, in their own ways.

Boring was the last thing you’d describe Johnny as last night.

Kyle holds the door for you as you enter the barracks, following you down the hall. You stop in front of your door, your hand pausing on the knob as Kyle leans in close to you.

His chest presses against your back, breath fanning your ear as he speaks. “Can’t wait to find out about this trick you do with your tongue.”

Your face warms again, your heart thudding in your chest as you turn to look up at him, tongue darting out to wet your lips. “You could find out right now.”

Kyle’s lips lift in a smirk as he leans in closer, trapping you against the door. “I’d love to, but I don’t think the Captain would be quite so forgiving if I skipped out on this training.”

You stare up at him, lost in his big brown eyes. “Soon?”

He smirks, leaning down to kiss you. “Of course. Just say the word.”

He leaves you there with your heart thudding in your chest, your stomach churning in excitement. You’d be more than willing to go that extra step with Kyle right at this very moment, but the subtle ache between your thighs thanks to Johnny is a good reminder why you should wait. You want to enjoy your time with Kyle.

You know it will be worth the wait.

“How have you been?”

You shrug, sinking back into the plush chair. It’s warm in the office, a stark contrast to the cold downpour outside. “Fine.” You answer, running your hands over your jeans. “Tired.”

“Oh?” Dr. Keller raises an eyebrow at you. “Have you not been sleeping well?”

“I’m...having a hard time falling asleep.” You say. It’s not entirely a lie, but it’s not the whole truth.

“Why do you think that is?” She asks, writing something down.

Your palms begin to sweat. You hadn’t planned on going into too much detail about this with her, but you knew she’d likely notice and remark on your tired appearance. “Been thinking too much.”

“About what?” She probes, staring at you.

You know you don’t have to tell her anything. What you share is up to you. Yet, you can feel the words bubbling up, threatening to spill over before you can stop them. “My family.” You say, releasing some steam from the boiling pot inside you. Tears burn your eyes, threatening to fall as you continue. “Especially my mom. I miss her a lot sometimes.”

“You had a close bond with her.” Dr. Keller says. It’s not a question.

You nod. “The closest out of all of my siblings.” You snuffle, wiping the tear trailing down your cheek. “Makes sense why.”

“Sometimes we have traits or behaviors that show before we present that hint at our possible status. Having a stronger bond with one parent over another, especially in mixed status packs, can signal what one might present as.” Dr. Keller says. “Were you the first omega to present in your pack?”

You nod. “Yeah. My older brothers were alphas, and I don’t know about my younger siblings.”

“That could all contribute to a strong bond with your mother.” Dr. Keller leans back in her seat. “I’m assuming you haven’t had any contact with them since the institute.”

“Not since I was taken from home. The institute didn’t support keeping those connections with previous packs and...I don’t think they would have reached out anyway.” You say, picking at the fabric of your pants.

“What makes you say that?” Dr. Keller asks.

You pause, not sure you want to open that bag of worms. If anyone is safe enough to do it with, you know it’s going to be Dr. Keller. She won’t judge you, she won’t think you weak or silly for having such thoughts, such fears. She doesn’t care how broken you are. You’re not part of her pack. She’s an outsider, a doctor above all.

“Well, they did send me to the institute, didn’t they?” You finally say.

Dr. Keller hums, staring at you for a moment before she drops her gaze to her notebook, writing something down. “I suppose you have a point there. Hypothetically, if you were given the chance to, would you want to talk to them again? It’s not uncommon for omegas to seek out their previous packs and families after they leave the institute.”

Your stomach twists at her question. Even if it is only hypothetical, you had existed for years in the institute thinking you’d never get to see or hear from your family again. They were behind you, lost to you. They wouldn’t accept your attempts to reach out to them, even if you knew where they were. Even after leaving the institute, you knew the chances of seeing them again or even just hearing from them was almost none. You have a new pack now, your old one doesn’t matter.

That’s just the life of an omega.

Would you want to? In this hypothetical world where this question exists as a potential option, would they even answer if you called? Would they accept an invitation to see you again, if they were given the chance? Could your father feel regret after all of these years for what he did to you?

“I...” You frown, tears pricking your eyes again. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay.” Dr. Keller says. “It’s a complex situation. If you ever wanted to, though, I’m sure they could make it happen.”

Your gaze snaps to hers, the shock at her words clearly written on your face. Of course they probably could. It was their job to hunt down hard to find people, and with the CIA at their backs, you’re certain they could track down your family easily. Would they do it for you, if you asked? Would they allow you to have that connection with your old pack while still being part of theirs?

“Most people keep some form of contact with their family, even after they move on to their own pack.” Dr. Keller says. “It’s not unusual, even among omegas. Just something to think about.”

“Do you still talk to your family?” You ask her, partly out of curiosity.

“I do.” She smiles. “I talk to my parents pretty regularly, and my older brother occasionally. He’s involved in this world too. He was in the Army originally, but now he does whatever it is he does.”

You’re surprised by her answer. Not so much that she still talks to her family, but that she’s familiar with this world. It makes sense, how easily she existed in it, beyond just being a professional. “Do you think it had something to do with you being chosen for this position?” You ask.

“Most likely.” She grins. “Laswell probably wanted someone who is at least a little familiar with this world, but also someone she knew would work well with you.”

“I think she made the right choice.” You say. It’s the truth. You like Dr. Keller. You trust her. You’ve grown comfortable in her presence and you look forward to your appointments with her. It almost makes you feel bad for withholding the truth from her.

“Good. I think so too.” She says. “So, did anything exciting happen this week?”

You chew on your lip nervously, your hands disappearing into your sleeves as your face warms a bit. “Johnny and I...had our first time together.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrows raise. “And that’s something you wanted?”

You nod. “Yeah. I’d like to get close to all of them, well, as close as Ghost will let me get.” You bite your lip again. “Ghost...gave me some pointers on how to handle Johnny. It worked. He...let me take control. I liked it.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” Dr. Keller says. “I think it’s great that you’ve discovered this about yourself. I know omegas are so used to being controlled in society. I think it’s great that you’ve found a place where perhaps you can take a little control back.”

She’s not wrong. Your entire life has been dictated for you, controlled by someone else. The baton of control was just continually passed from your father, to the institute, to the CIA, and now to John. Though John has granted you the most freedom of everyone that’s held control over you, there’s still requirements for obedience and submission to him. You’ll never be your own person. That’s just the way society works, and you’ve come to accept that.

Yet, you’ve never felt quite so powerful as you did in bed with Johnny, when you’d gripped him by the mohawk like Ghost had instructed you to. When you saw the change in his eyes as you took over, controlling him, telling him what to do. You liked it, exerting control over someone else for a change. He just let you do it. It still sends a thrill down your spine at the thought of the possibilities, the things you can do now that you’ve discovered this part of yourself. You’d never show it in public, but behind closed doors...

The book was right. Perhaps omegas can be powerful.

“What are we doing?” You ask, staring up at John as he straps a tactical vest onto your body.

“We’re doing an exercise, and you’re going to help us.” He answers, double checking the vest before putting a helmet on your head. “Think of it as hide and seek mixed with tag.” He finishes strapping the helmet to your head, taking a step back. “How does it feel?”

“Heavy.” You feel weighed down with the vest and the helmet.

“You’ll get used to it.” He says with a smile, guiding you towards the door of the warehouse.

It’s dark inside, nearly pitch black except for the light coming in from the open door. There’s fake walls set up in front of you, with space just in the middle like a sort of hallway that disappears into the darkness.

“Your job is to get from this side of the warehouse, to the other without getting caught.” John says. “No weapons, just you trying to evade us and get to the other side while we try and catch you,” John lowers the goggles on the top of the helmet, the world coming alive in shades of green around you. “And night vision goggles. Be smart about it. Understood?”

You nod, looking around with the goggles, trying to adapt to using them. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. You have a thirty second head start. Use it wisely.”

He leaves the warehouse, closing the door behind him. You’re left in complete darkness, with no sound but a fan running somewhere, probably to dampen any sounds that might echo. You stand there for a moment, trying not to breathe too heavily, as it might echo in the warehouse. You stare at the door behind you for a second before you begin to move forward, the adrenaline starting to pump. You have to get to the other side of the warehouse before they catch you. Are they working together or individually? What kind of strategy will they use? What strategy will you use?

You begin to pick up speed, running until you reach the end of the first hallway. It splits off in both directions, and you hesitate for a moment. Be smart about it. You don’t have many advantages in this situation. They’ve done this before, both in training and probably in the field as well. They’re highly skilled soldiers, trained to hunt down people in all sorts of environments, sometimes with nothing more than their scent.

Scent.

Of course.

You take off down the right hallway, following it as it twists and turns like a maze. A giant maze. There’s so many hallways, so many places to run, but not many to hide. That’s not the point, though. You have to get to the other side of the warehouse before they do. You have to track your way through this maze without getting caught by four special operations soldiers.

Simple enough.

You pause at a corner, undoing your vest so you can slip your sweatshirt off. You’re just putting your vest back on when the door opens, bathing the ceiling with light for a moment. It’s started. They’re inside. You can’t hear anything over the hum of the fan, and that’s almost more terrifying to you than if you had been able to hear them. The adrenaline is pumping now as you toss your sweatshirt in the corner before quickly backtracking and heading a different direction.

You try to keep your breathing quiet as you weave through the maze, doubling back and touching the walls every so often to try and leave your scent behind and confuse them. You take deep breaths through your nose as you go, trying to catch any whiff of them, any sign that you might have crossed their path or be getting close to them. They’ll reach the same area of the maze as you’re in eventually, sooner rather than later. You need to start pressing forward. You’re not just evading them, you have to reach the other side before they catch you.

You slip around a corner, pressing up against the wall as something moves behind you. You hold your breath, quiet footsteps passing by your position. Your hands are shaking from the adrenaline, the instinctual fear of being hunted rising in you. You take a couple of quiet deep breaths, slipping your shoes off to grab your socks before slipping them back on. You peek around the corner, finding nothing.

You toss one of your socks in the corner before doubling back, pausing as you cross one of their scents. Johnny. You recognize the citrusy tang in the air. Christ, you’ve never heard him be that quiet before. You continue on, your heart racing in your chest as you carefully weave around corners, slipping through hallways. They’re close to you now. They could be around any corner.

You pause as you cross the scent of leather and musk, something prickling in the back of your mind. It’s a fresh scent. You pause for a moment, looking in the direction he went before slipping around the corner. You still have your other sock clutched in your hand, knuckles white as you grip it tightly.

You should be nearing the end. The warehouse isn’t that big, even with all the doubling back and dodging you’ve been doing. You toss your other sock in a corner haphazardly as you decide to stop doubling back and go for the exit. You have to try and get ahead of them, as well as find your way through the maze to the exit door.

Simple enough.

Except, you have no idea which direction the exit is, or which direction you’re heading. You could be going backwards for all you know. You weave through the halls, around the corners, focusing on finding the end of the maze.

In your concentration you fail to notice the scent, weaving through the halls mindlessly as you attempt to reach the end of the maze. You pay for it as the sound of boots on the concrete floor rushes up behind you. You let out a startled shriek of surprise as your feet leave the floor, your body ragdolling over someone’s shoulder.

“Got her!” He yells out, weaving around a couple corners before light floods the warehouse, making you wince.

Your squint as your feet hit the ground again, the night vision goggles lifted from your face. Your nose crinkles as you stare up at Kyle’s smug face, his lips pulled up in a smirk.

“No fair.” You pout. “I was so close!”

“You were, but you got sloppy at the end there.” He says, undoing the strap of your helmet to help you take it off. You’re sweaty underneath it, hair sticking to your forehead. You’re glad you ditched your sweatshirt now.

“Not bad.” John says, exiting the warehouse, Ghost and Johnny following. “Nice strategy.” He says, tossing your sweatshirt to you.

You shrug, hugging it to your chest. “Had to think fast with what I had on hand.”

“Running around with no socks on too.” Ghost says, holding up your socks.

“Left you a little present. You can keep them if you want.” You smirk.

“Don’t want your nasty socks.” He grumbles, tossing them to you.

“That was fun.” You say, grinning up at them. “Like being hunted.” You don’t miss the quiet rumble in John’s chest at your words, his eyes darkening just a bit. “Can someone help me out of this now though,” You say, reaching for the velcro straps on the vest. “It’s squishing my boobs.”

The TV is playing some show, but you're not really paying attention. You haven't been, not for a while now. Your adrenaline had still been pumping a bit after your participation in the exercise earlier, putting you on edge the rest of the day. It had been a bit thrilling, the idea of being hunted like that. You can understand now how omegas enjoy being hunted, beyond just the inevitable end.

The thought of that being how the exercise ended, all four of them at once, out where anyone could see you...your skin begins to prickle as heat blossoms in your veins. Kyle would get to take you first because he won, he caught you so easily. Would John go second, or would he allow the other members of his pack to go first? Ghost would be rough, taking you from behind, hands bruising on your hips. Your teeth sink into your lip as you imagine him over you, a position you often found yourself in during your training with him. He's just so big, so strong. They all are.

You won't be able to control yourself during training if you keep going down that thought path.

John would be gentle, piecing you back together after the others have had their way with you. He'd take care of you, like a good alpha, dragging one more orgasm out of you after you think you can't anymore.

You let out a shaky breath, trying to calm your scent. You're stinking up the rec room with your fantasies. You turn your head to look at the TV, trying to focus on what's happening on the screen in an effort to distract yourself.

It doesn't work, the subtle dampness between your thighs ever present on your mind. You have half a mind to get up and seek out Kyle, but like a miracle he appears in the doorway of the rec room. You see his nostrils flare, the lift of his shoulders as he inhales. He can smell your arousal, the spike in the sweetness of your scent. You have no doubt about that. He doesn't say anything, though, instead he approaches the couch silently, kneeling at the end.

He settles himself on top of you, resting his head on your chest. He lets out a breath as he settles, keeping some of his weight off of you, but he's still pressed against you like a weighted blanket. You fight the urge to shift beneath him, to press your hips up against him, to seek any ounce of relief for the warmth between your thighs.

You're not sure he's watching the TV either as he lays there, relaxed over you. Your fingers trail patterns across his back, gliding over his soft shirt. He's in blue today, one of your favorite colors on him. He looks good in anything, the perks of being pretty, but blue is one of your favorite colors on him.

It's silent between you for a while, Kyle relaxed above you while you fight to relax beneath him. If he’s affected at all by your scent, he hides it well. You have half a mind to ask him to take pity on you, to slip his hand beneath your sweatpants and ease the ache between your thighs. He had said whenever you wanted it. All you have to do is ask.

You shift slightly beneath him, lifting your hand to his head. “Kyle?” You ask, gently trailing your fingers over his scalp. He'd gotten his hair buzzed recently, the curly strands shorter than normal.

He hums in response, the sound rumbling through your body from where his head rests on your chest. When you don't reply right away he lifts his head, blinking up at you with those big brown eyes.

“Kiss me?” You ask.

Your heart starts to race as he pulls himself closer to you, his body dragging against yours. His eyes dart to your lips before they look back into yours for a moment. He leans down, slipping his arms underneath your back as he closes the gap between you. His lips are soft against yours, his kisses gentle and controlled as he holds you like you might break in his grasp.

“Kyle?” You murmur against his lips, your arms wrapping around his neck.

He hums again in response, pulling away just slightly to stare down at you.

“‘M not gonna break.” You say, dragging your nails over his scalp again. “Kiss me like you mean it.”

His lips twitch in a smirk before he leans down, pressing his lips hard against yours. It’s a searing kiss that nearly steals your breath away. His tongue prods at your lips, and you part them to allow him in. He tastes like the tea he had been drinking after dinner, rich and earthy with a hint of sweetness from the sugar he added. You moan softly into his mouth as his tongue flicks against your own, your thighs squeezing around his waist at the thought of that tongue between your legs.

He smirks against your lips as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking, his body shifting over yours so he can press one of his thighs between your legs. You move instinctively, your hips grinding against his thigh. Finally you're getting some friction, some relief from the ache.

“Fuck.” He breathes, pulling you tighter against his chest. “That’s it.” He groans, pressing his thigh harder against your grinding hips. “Gonna cum on my thigh, just like that?” He nips at your jaw, trailing kisses down the line towards your neck. “Haven’t even touched you yet.”

You try to muffle your moans as you continue to grind against his thigh, the friction on your clit pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Kyle?” You gasp out, gripping the back of his shirt. “Gonna fuck me on the rec room couch?”

He lifts his head from your neck, staring down at you for a moment. “Fuck, you’re right. Your room or mine?”

“Yours.” You say, hanging on for dear life as he scoops you up off the couch, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He walks you to his room, carrying you the entire way. He kicks the door shut, beelining for his bed. He drops you down on the mattress, your body bouncing as he hastily peels his shirt off, revealing an expanse of smooth skin marked here and there by scars. You immediately reach out, trailing your fingers over his skin. It’s just as soft as it looks, your fingers trailing the lines of his muscles.

His hand flattens over yours as it reaches his chest, pressing it into his warm skin as he leans down, kissing you again. His hands slip under your thighs, lifting you and switching your positions so he’s seated on the bed, and you’re in his lap.

“Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?” He says, looking up at you.

“I think it’s been mentioned before.” You say with a shrug, smiling down at him.

“It’s the truth.” He says, slipping his hands under your shirt. “Deserve to hear it all the time.”

“Bunch of handsome men complimenting me constantly?” You say, lifting your arms over your head so he can remove your shirt. “Can’t complain about that.”

“Luckiest men in the world.” He says, smoothing his hands across your back as he presses his face into your throat. “Pretty little omega.”

You shiver as his teeth nip at your skin, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. You arch against his chest, pressing yourself closer. There’s a bulge in his pants, a shiver of pride running through you at the thought that you did that to him. You elicited such a reaction from him.

“I never properly thanked you.” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“For what?” He asks, staring up at you curiously.

“For taking such good care of me during my heat. Couldn’t have been easy, seeing me like that, knowing you couldn’t even touch me.” You grind your hips against his, his teeth sinking into his lip as you grind against his bulge. “Tell me, how many times did you touch yourself while thinking about me?”

“Too many to count, love.” He groans, leaning his forehead against yours. “Sounded so sweet, getting ruined by our alpha.”

“Been so patient, waiting for this.” You gasp, still rocking in his lap, the wetness between your thighs intensifying from the friction. “Tell me how you want me.”

“Sit on my face.” He growls, pushing you off his lap so he can lay down on the bed.

You shove your pants and underwear down your legs, fighting the urge to be bashful. Kyle has already seen you at your most vulnerable, been up close and personal with your most private parts. Yet, it feels different like this. More intimate, and less of a necessity.

You take his hand as he offers it, letting him guide you to kneel over his face. You grip the headboard as you hover over him, his hands settling on your hips.

“Wait-” You say, before he can pull you down onto his face. “What if I suffocate you?”

“Then I’ll die a happy man.” He says, tugging you down onto his mouth.

You let out a gasp as his tongue drags through your folds, already soaked from his teasing. His tongue flicks across your clit, eliciting a quiet moan from your lips. Your hips jerk when his mouth closes around your clit, suckling at it with a lewd smack of his lips.

“Fuck!” You gasp, grinding your hips against his face as he continues to tease your clit, drawing patterns on it with his tongue.

You’re close already, your legs trembling around his head. He holds you steady, keeping you still above him as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking on it harshly. Your knees attempt to squeeze around his head as you cum, soaking his face with a cry. He continues to lap at your folds, licking up every last bit of your release before he finally lets you move off his face.

You drop to the side, staring down at him as you try to catch your breath. He licks his lips, his face shiny with your juices. He reaches a hand over, tangling his fingers in your hair as he pulls your face down to his, kissing you. You moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue and lips, already starting to get wet again.

Kyle wraps his arms around you, flipping you onto your back under him. He hovers over you, the bulge in his pants very visible, even from this position.

“Sweet little omega.” He says, nipping at your lips. “So fucking perfect.”

“Kyle,” You gasp, pulling him down into a kiss. “Need you.”

“I got you.” He soothes you, pressing another kiss to your lips before he sits back on his knees between your legs, staring down at you. He drags his fingers through your folds, still just as slick as they had been before your orgasm. “So fucking wet.” He groans, hastily undoing his belt and pants, kicking them off the end of the bed.

You stare at him in awe, his cock just as beautiful as he is. Long and thick, curved just slightly. You can’t help but ogle him as he wraps a hand around the base, squeezing it. He’s hard, raging hard, the tip leaking precum already. He really has been so patient, waiting for this. You almost feel bad making him wait so long, but he had agreed to be patient, if only to keep Johnny from making everyone’s lives miserable with his pouting if he didn’t get to go first.

It’s only fair that you let Johnny go first too, considering Kyle will likely be the one you spend the most time with. It’s only natural, thanks to your bond with John. Kyle’s your beta, just as much as John is your alpha. You’d like Johnny to be your beta too, but you know without that bond with Ghost, it’ll never feel quite the same as it does with Kyle. Regardless, you’ll continue to treat Johnny as if he was your beta.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Kyle asks, watching you as you get lost in thought.

You truly do it at the worst possible times.

You lift your gaze to his, staring into those big brown eyes. “Just waiting on you to hurry up and fuck me.”

You let out a yelp as Kyle’s hand smacks your inner thigh, the sound cracking through the room.

“Don’t get cheeky now.” He warns, rubbing the spot on your skin that’s quickly turning warm from his smack. “Just making sure you’re alright.”

“Fine.” You say, spreading your legs further for him. “Be better if you finally fucked me.”

Your laugh is broken by a moan as he drags his head through your folds, his hand falling to grip your waist.

“That needy for me, huh?” He asks, teasingly pressing the tip of his cock into you before pulling back.

“Just worried you might not make it since you’ve waited so long.” You gasp, trying to move your hips to take him deeper into you, but he pins you with the hand on your hip.

“Careful what you wish for.” He says, the warning clear in his tone. You handled Johnny just fine, you can certainly handle Kyle.

You hope.

He finally takes pity on you, sinking his cock deeper into you. You moan at the stretch, flopping back on the bed as you try to relax around him. He rolls his hips in short thrusts, sinking deeper and deeper as you open up to him. You reach for him as he sinks even further into you, his body folding over yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, staring up at him as he seats himself completely inside you, hips pressed flush against yours.

“Hi.” You breathe, getting lost in his soft gaze.

“Hi, love.” He grins down at you, fingers brushing your cheeks as he leans on his elbows above you. “Doing alright?”

You nod, squeezing around him. “Yeah. Feels good.”

“Good.” He says, leaning down to kiss you. “Been waiting so long for this. Feels better than I imagined.”

You let out a quiet whine, clenching around him again. The thought of him imagining this, trying to picture what you’d look like, what you’d feel like while he waited patiently for his turn has your body burning hot. You shift your hips below him, causing him to move inside you.

“Kyle?” You breathe, shifting again. “Please move.”

“I got you, love.” He smiles down at you, pulling his hips back before slowly pressing forward again.

Your head falls back as he moves, keeping his pace slow and languid. Heat burns through your veins, your very nerve endings alive as he slowly rolls his hips into you. Something thrums in the back of your mind, the mark on your shoulder almost tingling as you stare up at him, your fingers trailing over the mark on his shoulder, a mirror of the one on your own. A shudder runs through him as your fingers brush the scar, his lips parting in a low groan. You clench around him at the sight of such unbridled pleasure on his face, pulling him closer against your body.

He drags your pleasure out as he makes love to you, slow and passionate and deliberate with every movement. You know you won’t last much longer, the sensations beginning to overwhelm you.

“I’m close.” You breathe into Kyle’s ear, pressing kisses across his neck. “Don’t stop.”

“Gonna cum for me?” He groans, keeping his thrusts steady. “Gonna let me see that beautiful face as you come undone for me?”

Your back arches as you cum, pushed over the edge by his words. Your nails bite into his shoulders, but he offers no complaint as he continues to roll his hips into yours, working you through your orgasm as he chases his own. His pace picks up slightly as he gets closer and closer to the edge, your eyes on his face, wanting to watch him now.

“Your turn.” You breathe, still trying to catch your breath from your orgasm as you clench around him.

His head tilts back, lips parted in a deep moan as his hips jerk. His cock twitches inside you, his thrusts getting sloppy as he cums. You trail your hands over his back, sinking your teeth into your lip as you watch his face morph into complete bliss. You’ve never seen anything quite so beautiful.

He collapses on top of you, just managing to keep his weight off of you thanks to his elbows planted on the bed beside your head. You continue to rub his back, fingers tracing the smooth, sweat slicked skin, only pausing to trace the scars that you find. Kyle presses soft kisses to your face, slowly trailing lower across your jaw and neck. He presses a kiss to your mark, a shudder running through you. He lets out a groan as you clench around him, shifting so he’s face to face with you again.

“Give me a minute.” He says, slipping out of you as he presses a kiss to your lips.

“Tired already?” You ask cheekily.

“No,” He says, kissing you again before slowly sliding down your body. “Just need a minute to catch my breath. Besides,” He settles between your thighs, pressing them open so he’s face to face with your pussy. “I’ve got a mess to clean up.”

You stand outside the door of John’s office, brows pulled into a frown. You have a feeling you already know what he’s going to say, yet your mind keeps reeling, coming up with the most fantastical ideas as to why you were summoned to his office in the middle of the day. It’s weird that he’s in his office in the middle of the day. Usually they’d be off training, but he’d pulled them all into a meeting this morning after breakfast, one that had gone into your usual lunch time, and then they hadn’t gone to train after you finally got to eat.

“Come in.”

Your hand pauses on the handle as you hesitate, almost as if you could prevent what’s going to happen by just not going in. It’s a ridiculous thought. Avoiding this will only likely get you into trouble.

You step into the office, the air inside different from any of the other times you’ve been in his office. John’s face looks grim and focused behind his desk, and it’s not hard to tell you’re not facing John right now, you’re facing Captain Price.

You take the seat across from him at his desk when he motions to it, trying to fight the tears threatening to brim in your eyes as you stare at him. You won’t cry. You knew this was going to happen eventually. You knew going in what was going to inevitably happen. You had been well prepared for this part of your new reality, yet you don’t want to acknowledge it now that you’re staring it in the face.

“I know you’ve likely already figured out what’s going on.” He says, his voice gruff and deeper than normal.

You can see it in his face. He’s fighting his own battle with having to tell you. You hadn’t expected it, to see him struggle with it. He knew it as well as you did. He knew it better than you did, and yet, you can see the turmoil behind that focused gaze.

He lets out a sigh as he continues, hands closing into fists on his desk, his tone almost apologetic. The words sting despite the fact you had known they were coming, despite the fact you had expected them when you walked into the office. “This morning we had a debrief for a new assignment. We’ll be leaving tonight. All four of us.”

NEXT ->

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