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yandere-wishes · 5 months ago

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Alice in Marvel-land

𐙚Yandere! Deadpool (Wade Wilson) x Reader x Yandere Wolverine (Logan Howlett)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ In some worlds, you were Logan's little darling. In others, you were Wade's starry-eyed lover. But here in the void, there is only one of you and two of them.

⁀➷ GORE, yandere behavior, kidnapping, Deadpool being Deadpool.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ IDK, probs the Deadpool and Wolverine soundtrack

Logan feels the world slipping away.

Piece by piece, atom by atom.

In a blink, he's falling down darkness.

An endless rabbit hole.

What was the name of that fairy tale you liked so much?

The one with the girl who gets lost in splendor?

The dust is kicking up, framing the sunset portrait along the horizon.

The envoys are nearly home, this time they've brought someone back. The cage balls chime along the unsteady road. If you squint just far enough you can almost make out vibrant specks of red and yellow.

Strange, the void tends to wash out bright colors. Well, it tends to wash out just about everything.

You scrape your nails along the skeleton's sockets. Leave crescents in the decaying cartilage. "They're almost here" you call out awaiting Cassandra's next move. You watch dolefully as she's transfixed on a portal. The sparky thing unfurled like a fresh wound, strewing salt on persistent lacerations. She watches her brother, or well some variation of her brother. Surrounded by his new family, surrounded by those he loves. He's forgotten her, or maybe never even knew her. You think that the latter would hurt the most.

"Cassandra" Your voice rises in octave, this time getting her attention. "They're here".

"Coming" She sings, voice so chip it almost sounds like unshed tears. You send a final glare at the portal before it collapses on itself.

If you tried hard enough, maybe you could bring yourself to understand her pain. Those pesky notions of desperation for someone to love. But it

doesn't matter now everyone you've ever loved is dead anyway. And unlike Cassandra, you've long since given up on the childish dreams of being rescued by someone who would offer up love so freely.

"Maybe shut up now"

Logan's nerves are frying. Thin strings snapping with every syllable that leaves the red merc's mouth. He's starting to appreciate Stryker in a way he didn't even know he could. The man was a psychotic sadist but at least he knew when to sew someone's mouth shut. Maybe he can convince this Cassadra chick to do the same.

Logan's eyes are almost at 90 degrees of a roll when they stop. He stops, frozen. In the gaping mouth of the rotting skull, something all too familiar stands.

Or rather someone.

Someone he knew.

Someone he loved.

Your name tastes bitter on his tongue. All death and whisky.

Maybe cause it's been so long since the attack. Since he walked off for the night and left his family to die. Cause the last time he saw you, you were a mangled corpse laying in an open grave. Deadweight as he cradled you in his arms.

You walk closer. Face painted in too many shades of confusion.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Damn, he's started quoting that stupid book again.

"How do you know my name" You ask. You look just as beautiful as he remembers. Spine carved straight in pride with perfect lips, perfect eyes. His talons itch to glide across your soft skin, to feel you so intimately once more.

"LOOOGAN did you see what the bald chick just- HEY!!"

It takes too much effort to pull his gaze away. To stare at red and black and be reminded of cruel realities. But Wade has a tendency to be a persistent ache, some unwelcomed anchor to every problem he's ever had.

Only this time when he actually looks at him. Looks at the jittery body that's stilled abruptly. He can't help but be glad that he did. A bitter laugh bubbles in his throat. Maybe Wade's shut up for good this time.

He always knew you were special but this is truly a miracle.

"IT'S YOU!!"

Nope, didn't work. He knew he couldn't be that lucky.

Wade whispers your name, a forgotten prayer. Logan didn't even know the loudmouth knew how to pray. But he seems to almost soften when he sees you. That feral, cheeky killer, looks so so soft when he stares into your doe-eyes. Reaching out zealously to twirl a lock of your hair around his blood-soaked finger.

He can almost feel Wade choking on your essence, heart erratic, like a child finding a lost toy. He's drowning in ecstasy, and Logan is almost tempted to join him. You're here, a breath away. So close it's taking every ounce of self-control not to pull you to his chest and keep you locked between his arms until he finally dies too.

"Penunt look that's my girl!!"

"Your girl!?"

He had taken you for granted as he tends to do with most peaceful things. The realization had occurred a little too late. Right as he had been emptying a round into the target of the week's head.

He lands.

Arms high like an Olympian pleasing the crowd.

He wonders if he can make you cheer for him.

Clap and shout his name as he twirls around the mess he's made.

He wants to feel loved, although he'll never say it out loud. He's only ever been good with words when they're laced with sarcasm and profanity.

And maybe 'I love you' is just about the most obscene thing he can ever say to someone as sweet as you.

Wade plays the white rabbit, fluffy coat stained red from every kill. Tricking poor Alice into following him down cruel rabbit holes. Making you chase him through labyrinths then leaving you at every turn. He leads you to every kill, makes you watch as he dances in slaughter. He can even feel your eyes right now. Starlight slicing him open to quench vulgar interests.

Alice always follows the rabbit.

He stalks closer, white eyes fixated on your deliciously bewildered expression. Precious thing caught in a warzone. He can almost taste you on his tongue, the sharp tip of a star slivering the inside of his mouth, soft hands painting crescent moons along the back of his neck. He needs to carve his essence across your lips, to pour the after-kill adrenaline into your soul. He needs you.

Only this time...

This time he'd been too distracted. So caught up in claiming you as his victory prize that he didn't notice the grizzled man clinging to life...

And a pistole.

The bullet punctures his shoulder. An afterthought.

But the lead keeps going.

Penetrating the air until it lands bunglingly between your eyes.

You fall into his arms.

Deadweight.

Did the white rabbit ever miss Alice?

Did he ever realize how truly special such a curious girl made him feel?

He doubts it.

Doubts that a stupid rodent would have better emotional stability than him.

He's been given a second chance. A whole plethora of them actually. He's been deemed holy, righteous. And aren't gifts of marvel bestowed upon the truly blessed? What better blessing than the sight of you standing amongst the sand and skulls?

Good to see your affinity for dainty dresses spans across all universes...

He lets the blood trickle down his claws.

What else is there to do but dream of you?

It's the fourth day of his massacre and he's lost count of how many humans he's killed. Maybe cause after the first hundred the faces tend to blur.

He leaves your pleasants in between the rotting carcasses and broken glass. Only taking the torturous parts of you. The things that can hurt him. The sharp edges that he can slit his pulse point on, the vague memory of your glare before you cried. The soft skin of your neck between his jagged teeth.

Enough to keep the hate burning.

He wonders if the creatures of Wonderland wept after Alice left. He wonders if Wonderland lost its wonder.

But now you're standing here.

Alive.

And he wants so badly to remember the sweet taste of your lips. The soft push against his chapped lips as he swallows you whole. Even desperate rabbits can go a little feral. His eyes take in every breath, every scowl.

Alive.

Good to see your affinity for dainty dresses spans across all universes...

Aliath skids forward, mystified in lightning and smoke. You feel your bones collapsing under the rugged man's, Logan's, vice grip. You thrash and scream trying to break free but he only barks out orders to his friend before they take off running.

"Your safe, don't worry we got you." There's a comedic cadence to every word Wade says. You can almost fool yourself into enjoying it if the two weren't actively attempting to defy Cassandra, to defy Aliath, to defy deities and absolutes. To ripe you away from the only semblance of opulence you've come to know.

"Let me go, you custome-wearing freaks." His gripe tenses. "Don't struggle so much, we said you're safe, now hold still" Logan's anger ripples through you. It's almost muscle memory to still, to obey.

Did you know him? Know them?

In some past life too out of reach?

The ground shutters to a jagged rhythm. You're flying up, escaping the misty horrors of the ground. Your head pounds with the force, air slapping across your body as you taste the cotton of the clouds between your teeth.

Is this how Alice felt as her head hit the roof?

Wade mutters about the stars and educated wishes. About people who live and matter. Logan slices through his thigh, the mercenary's optimism making his body ring with phantom pains.

No one matters.

And when they start to, they die.

There are cruel absolutes in this world. He's tasted them all. Let them slice his tongue and heart and danced to every tune they've sung. He rips his claws out and digs them into Wade's chest.

Again

And again.

Wade savors the salty tang of blood inside his mouth.

Licks his teeth and runs his tongue over the gaping holes.

He's sitting in the front seat head rolled back.

High off the blood and adrenaline and the thought of having you so close.

"I take it all back, the Honda odysseys fucks hard"

Bones crack, interrupted mid-heal as Logan turns his head to glare. "Shut up" he rasps and Wade almost, almost, hears approval.

There's a low moan reverberating across the broken car. Late night sleepy mumble that's half 'I love you' and half 'I need you'. Neither one has heard it in such a long time.

"Finally awake sleeping beauty? Kinda surprised you could sleep through all of that" Wade shimmies to the back, only to be greeted by your foot smashing into his face, cracking his nose open, and sending a fresh wave of blood into his mouth. He pins your knee to the seat and wiggles himself between you. caging you with his elbows as he stares down at your pretty face. "Miss me, angel baby?"

"Wrong fairy tale" Logan turns around in his seat, claws out running them across your cheek "Please stop, just let me go" you've never begged before, never fallen so low. But these two things, mutants, mutates, or whatever they are, scare you. Reckless, suicidal, dangerous. You feel so helpless in their presence. Never knowing you're to be kissed or killed.

"You're as lovely as I remember" The melancholy colors him in a monochrome of sympathy. Here is a man who's gone through every horror and still gets out of bed. Or maybe he has to, maybe he can't quite die and can't quite reach heaven. So he gulps down his immortality with black coffee to at least pretend he's being buried six feet deep. "Even after all this time I still love you" You almost melt in his brown eyes. So lonely, so desperate.

Kill or kiss

You want him to do both. Want to kiss extinction on his lips while being impaled by the claws. Kill or kiss.

Both, both, both.

"You know~" Wade pushes himself up, "I think your dress should be red...and black. To match your favorite man."

"Who the hell said you were the favorite?" Wade leans forward, in a blink he's gripped Logan's wrist and lunged the Wolvarine's claws into your abdomen.

You writhe, the bones and metal feel almost heavenly inside of you. When he retracts the claws you moan out, it's too saccharine to hold back. Everything feels so much lighter, colorful. You feel your essence slipping out, gushing over the back seat.

Red waterfall, so pretty.

Dress stained red.

"Told ya so!"

Wade pulls you roughly by the shoulders and smashes his lips against yours. He's so cute, fickle Cheshire cat, tongue dancing across your mouth, slitting itself on your peaked teeth, and filling your mouth with thick red caterpillar smoke. "What the hell is wrong with you? You really are God's perfect idiot" Logan's anger is tangible, sweet, and bitter like hatter tea at midnight.

"S'okay Logan, it feels nice" Your words slur, slipping gauche from your tongue as you giggle profusely. You feel like Alice cracking open Wonderland's ribs, crawling inside, and smearing the wonder across your face.

"When I used to read fairy tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one" You've heard these words before, Alice's words. she's right. Your fairy tale is painted red with pretty, crazy, princes who think that slicing open a princess is easier than kissing her. You reach out for Logan, desperate for a kiss. "eat me" you mutter, and Logan's face morphs into pure terror "Wade what the hell have you done to her?".

"What? It's better this way trust me"

"I hate you"

Logan bends, meeting you halfway. He kisses you with all the wary of a dead man walking. All teeth and heart and bitter memories left to rot three lifetimes ago. He pushes himself between your bones, trying to carve out his ethos in your body. He'd burn the world so long as he gets to keep you.

You squeeze your thighs around Wade's muscular thighs and hips unlocking a gibby giggle from the man. His mask is half pulled up as he trails sloppy fervorous kisses across your neck and chest. The nostalgia slithering under your skin has you squirming, you've been through this all before. In a past life somewhere where storm monsters and voids don't exist. "Remember how good this feels?" Wade mumbles as his fingers dig into your puncture wounds, drawing slow, desperate moans from your puffy lips. You don't dare answer you don't know what would be worst admitting to liking the loudmouth ministrations or admitting there were other versions of you out there, other happy versions.

"Oh for hell's sake," Logan reclines the front seat and shuffles closer. Pulling down the back of your dress. His kisses are bite marks in disguise rabid and feral, the two things the man will never escape. His name rolls across your tongue, you let it slip in an airy moan. "No fair " Wade complains "I want you to say my name too." He pulls out his baby knife and etches the skin of your thighs. Scribbling doodles of stars and half hearts and the little symbol he wears on his belt. "W-wade" you gasp never knowing whether to scream in pain or giggle in bliss.

Logan laughs into your neck. You didn't even know he was capable of such a gentle thing. You bite his lip playfully. Dragging your fingers across his muscular arms. Your thumb pushes into the space between his knuckles asking for the claws. For the most macabre parts of him. You glide your tongue across the parish where flesh meets metal. Kissing the metal and bones and lapping at the blood. Watch curiously as he draws out a long airy sigh. "Good girl" he mumbles voice marred with ecstasy and you almost see the ghost of a smile smear across his pretty lips.

Wade's thumb gently rubs against your hips. Softly usering you into peace, tranquility. Your eyes get heavy, the car gets blurry. The grotesque realignment of their bones steering you into a deep, content sleep.

"Hey Peanut, you think Alice in Wonderland here would mind if we keep going? "

"Shut it, moron "

"Oh, how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if only I knew how to begin.”

🎀Bonus

Deadpool: "Do you think the author's going to write about us again? Or is she planning to finally write that Dune fic she keeps talking about?

Wolverine: "I have no fucking idea what the hell you're even talking about.

🪐@yandere-romanticaa @bad4amficideas @sugarplumz100 @oscarissac2099 @facelessfionna @siphite @tocotuesday69 @linoleunm @mei-simp @shamelessdarkprince @gabriqllas @lovely-liliacs @shiroi-asashin17 @failinguniversity

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rainrot4me · 6 months ago

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Behind The Veils

Summary: Hiking to capture the perfect sunrise photo for your portfolio, you stumble upon a supposedly abandoned cabin, your curiosity driving you to investigate. When you're met with two very large and very aggressive masked men, they decide that they'll put you to good use.

Characters: Masky & Hoodie x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Bondage, gagging, choking, throat fucking, restraint, teasing, dominance, threesome, vaginal, anal, eating out, cumming on face, threatening, chasing, bargaining, mentions of guns, ropes

Words: 6.1k

You would do anything for a good shot. Trespassing included.

Working on your portfolio for school was proving to be more physically demanding than you anticipated, but if it meant you got in on a good scholarship, you were willing to break a few laws.

Your heart raced as you pushed down the barbed wire fence and swung a leg over. These woods were off-limits as deemed by the state, but you knew of a beautiful mountainscape that would make for a perfect sunrise picture. And, considering how your portfolio was currently looking, you needed this shot. Glancing at the “Private Property, Do Not Enter” sign one last time, you swung your other leg over and pulled your backpack back onto your shoulders.

You filled your large pack with enough stuff to last you a day. A sleeping bag, a one-person tent, a fire starter, and all the other junk you could think of. It was late afternoon now, and you planned on setting up camp closer to the lookout and hiking the rest before sunrise. It would be a couple of miles, but you were willing and excited. Photography was your life and passion, and you planned on following it through no matter the challenge (or legality).

Pushing away from the barbed fence, you trekked through the dense forest, with no clear path in sight. You pulled out your phone and found your map, searching for an easier way to the scenic lookout, but finding no angle except the one you were taking now. You groaned, shoving your phone back in your back and continuing on. It wasn’t all that bad though. The weather was warm, a breeze blowing through the dense trees and cooling you off. The late summer afternoon had animals and bugs buzzing, creating a nice scenery to walk through. You wouldn’t only get a good picture, but a nice hike in as well.

But as the day passed and the sun stooped lower into the horizon, the woods were becoming less and less inviting. The animals had gone quiet now, with no chirping or singing of birds in the trees. The only noise was the low humming of insects in the grass, an ominous feeling creeping on you the darker it got. You knew it was only your mind tricking you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching you. Only about two miles out from the lookout now, and this felt like a good place to set up camp.

Hurriedly, you unpacked your bag, popped up your tent, and rolled your sleeping bag out. The sky was dark with the colors of the sunset, but it provided just enough illumination to gather fallen branches and make a small fire stack. You crouched down, tossing some brush and leaves into the pile and striking the fire starter, creating a spark that flamed into a small fire. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to heat your bowl of food and provide you warmth against the cooler night air. Still so strangely quiet, the forest was dark, unable to see past the glow of your fire. You tried not to psych yourself out, but you gripped your pocket knife close, fiddling with the blade anxiously. You knew there were no people out here. At least none besides brave teenagers who dared each other to throw parties out here. Your main concern was a bobcat or some wild animal running up on you, but you thought scaring anything off wouldn’t be too difficult.

You breathed deep, trying to calm your nerves against your racing mind. Deciding you were tired enough, you zipped open the small tent and wrapped it up in your sleeping bag, closing the tent back and nestling it. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and grasshoppers in the grass, but your brain was still on high alert, listening closely. But when nothing came, your eyes eventually fluttered close and you slipped into sleep.

Morning eventually came, and you were pleasantly surprised with how little you stirred during the night. Unzipping the tent, the cool morning air rolled in, pulling you awake. The forest was covered in a dense wave of fog, the sun still low on the horizon and just barely peeking up against the horizon. Jumping up, you quickly packed your things and shuffled your backpack on. But when you went to stomp out your smoldering fire, something in the dirt nearby caught your attention. Peering closer, your heart sunk, fear rising in your throat. In the damp dirt, a very large bootprint was sunk into the ground. As you looked, you found more following closer to your tent. You began to silently panic, swinging your head around to look through the trees, but sighing when you saw nothing. Your heart still raced with the knowledge that someone had been walking around near your camp making you sick.

Stomping out the rest of the fire, you scurried away back onto your path, walking a little faster than you were before. As you walked, you tried to convince yourself that maybe you were tricking yourself. Maybe it was your boot print that you accidentally left, or someone that had hiked there before and it was just their leftover tailmarks. But you knew that boot was easily four sizes bigger than your own, and that boot print looked way too fresh. Shivering, you continued your trek but kept a close eye out, jumping at any slight movements.

Eventually, you crept up the mountainside, breathing heavily as you raced against the sunrise to the rocky overlook. The fog had settled, a thin haze of mist against the grass all that remained. Gripping onto trees, you pushed up the hill, the lookout coming into view. You sighed heavily, tugging yourself up the rocks and eventually reaching the top, breathing heavily. But as you caught your breath, you tossed your backpack off and rummaged through for your camera and the stand. The sun was just barely peeking up, offering a nice pink haze across the entire scene. Your excitement bubbled as you found your supplies and began to set up at the edge of the rocks.

High up on the mountain, you could see the stretch of the forest, the trees looking even more dense from up high. It was stunning as the sun reflected off of the morning dew. The mountain range in the distance complemented the horizon beautifully, the sun shining right between the peaks. Clasping your camera onto the tripod, you turned it on and angled it, catching the expanse of the forest in the lens. You smiled wide, snapping dozens of pictures before repositioning and capturing more. You would go through them all later, editing and angling them just perfect for your portfolio. This scene just screams adventure, solitude, and daring. It was perfect.

As you finished taking pictures, you noticed a gap in the treeline further up the mountain, another great angle of the mountain range. Grabbing your stuff, you hauled further up, clicking through the photos you had already taken as you walked. These were exactly what you needed, but you wouldn’t mind snapping a few more from a different angle just in case.

Pushing through the brush of the mountain, you finally reached the higher peak, already throwing your stuff down to set up again. But as you set your tripod up, something in the trees caught the corner of your eye. Turning, you could barely make out the cabin hidden amongst the large trees. Peeking, your brows knitted, unsure of why there was a cabin out here in the first place. Turning back, you quickly snapped a few pictures before packing your stuff back up, the sun well above the mountains now.

Pushing deeper into the trees, you studied the cabin, the small lodge otherwise invisible from outside the forest. The thick leaves and foliage disguised it, making it all the more ominous. Maybe it was a hunting cabin used during the winter or some old abandoned home before the state closed this forest off. You knew you should’ve been more cautious, but as the sun peeked through the trees and cast a warm glow against the dark wood, all you could think of was how good it would look in a photo.

Pressing closer, you hugged against the trees, trying to see the best angle for a picture. The cabin was older, with weathering and vines decorating the exterior. But it was charming, in a creepy kind of way. As you rounded to the side of the cabin only a couple of yards away, you lifted your camera and shot a couple of pictures, admiring the mist radiating around the lodge in the early sunlight. You trudged around to the back, lifting your camera again but stopping quickly. At first, you thought it was just the sunlight shining through one of the windows. But as you looked closer, you could see a small lamp turned on inside of the dusty window.

Your heart stopped, a cold shiver shooting up your spine. There was no way someone was out here. Especially not inside that decrepit old thing. You knew you should’ve high-tailed it out of there, packing up your stuff and shooting back down the mountain. But you being your daring self, you pressed closer to the small porch of the cabin, trying your best to peek inside the fogged window. When you eventually got so close your feet knocked the steps of the porch, you stepped up, sliding to the window.

Cobwebs decorated the porch, and large vines and patches of weathering surrounded the wooden door. You couldn’t see very well through the window, but as you crouched against the cabin and peered inside, you were shocked to see nothing. There were no signs of life inside besides the small lamp, somehow powered on in the middle of nowhere. How it was getting electricity, you were too dumb to figure out.

You stood slowly, trying your best to see further than the lamp through the fogginess of the glass. Maybe it was just left on accidentally? You hoped so. But who would come all the way out here? After deducing that the place truly was abandoned, you set your bag on the porch and lifted your camera. Even though scary, the closeness would make for a good picture. Angling, you captured the lamp framed by the foggy window. However, when the flash of the camera went off, a sudden thud echoed inside the lodge. Your heart dropped, white fear shooting through as you backed against the railing of the porch. Shit. Shit. Shit. The sudden loud thuds of boots sounded inside, your body scrambling quickly to grab your bag and run, but it was already too late.

The door slammed open in your face, knocking you back on your ass down the steps and onto the grass below. You didn’t even look up, turning quickly to dig your feet into the ground and sprint. You held your camera close to your chest, panting heavily as you dodged through the trees. You had no idea who was in that cabin, but you weren't going to stick around and find out. If they were crazy enough to live out here then they were crazy enough to hurt you, and fuck that. Nudging through the brush, you pressed through the trees, heaving desperately for air as your legs burned with fear. As soon as you felt like you had gained a good distance away, it all ended. You felt your head stop before the rest of your body, your limbs shooting forward before you were slammed down to the ground with a loud thud. Your head pounded, a large hand pressing your face down into the ground and giving you a terrible impact headache. You’d be lucky if you didn’t have bruises from how hard your body stopped.

Groaning sharply, you squinted your eyes, your vision partially blinded by the thick fingers pressing down against your face. Your body panicked, writing under the weight as the body on top of you pressed down harder, restricting your movements. You wanted to scream, but your head was pounding too hard to speak, let alone scream. Clawing at the hand on your face, you whined, desperate to move as fear ran through you.

“Quit fighting.” A gruff voice groaned in front of your face, pressing your head down harder into the grass. You tried to see him, your head pressed to the side so all you saw was the dirt and grass beneath you. Until you heard those boots thudding beside your head again, echoing against the forest floor. When they came into your vision, you panicked, the thick black soles blocking your vision. The figure knelt, the other person holding you down angling your head up to get a clear shot of the man crouching beside your head. “Well, hello.” This voice was lighter, scratchier than the other but not as rough. They were both men though, and large enough to hold you down.

The man in front of you was odd, something straight out of a movie. He wore a white mask decorated with a face, little holes cut in the eyes so you could see his dark eyes. He glared at you, his brown hair messed in front of his face. You were caught in confusion, your eyes flicking quickly against him as you tried to gather as much about his appearance as you could. The other man gripped your face tight, angling you to look at the sky as the two of them talked.

“She’s a fast little fucker.” The lower voice growled, nails digging into your cheeks as you began to struggle again. “Hold her steady, don’t let her wiggle out.” The other one commanded, standing and shuffling away. You finally caught sight of the other one, a mustard hoodie pulled over his head, a dark ski mask painted with a red frowning face. Who the hell were these two? They looked like some emo band wannabes and it seriously was beginning to scare you. What in the world were they doing in the middle of nowhere dressed like that? The one with the hoodie was staring right at you, his face covered but his eyes roaming your body. “What the hell are you doing out here anyways?” He gruffed, snapping your camera out of your hands. You gasped, reaching for it but him holding it above your reach.

“I was- ah- taking pictures. Of the sunset. I- I’m a photographer.” You huffed, tears pricking at your eyes as he remained unamused. He ignored your response, looking to the other one who was now dragging your bag towards you two. Zipping your backpack open, they rummaged through your belongings, throwing your supplies out onto the ground carelessly.

“Damn, so she was the camper out last night.” The lighter voice rang, tossing your sleeping bag onto the ground. Your heart sunk, tears finally spilling over your cheeks. So someone had come to your campsite last night. This was getting worse by the minute.

“Shoulda just killed her then like I said.” The darker voice growled, throwing your extra pair of socks down too. You sobbed into his hand, your hands clawing against his hand as he refused to let up. The one in the white mask crouched again, staring you directly in the eyes. “Knock her out, bring her back to the cabin.”

The last thing you saw before you blacked out was the hilt of a gun slamming down against your head, a sharp pain rining before everything went dark.

You had no clue how much time had passed when you awoke, but the sun was low in the sky, the colors of the sunset already spilling against the horizon through the window. The inside of the cabin was warm, a low fire crackling in the fireplace across from you. You glanced around, the inside was just as shabby as the outside, but the furniture inside wasn’t half bad considering you were tied to a table chair. Thick ropes wrapped around your torso, securing you against the back of the chair as you struggled. Your head pounded, a sharp throbbing echoing from the spot the gun made contact with your head. When you fully came to, you heard the loud ring of arguing from somewhere down the hallway, the small cabin doing little to conceal their words.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Masky, that on our only fucking week off some bitch decides to get curious.” The one in the hoodie, you recognized his voice. There was loud stomping, one following the other as they came closer down the hallway. “I say we just kill her, Hoodie, but you always need to interrogate the little shits.” The masked one growled back, the both of them coming into view through your hazy vision. They both glared at you, closing the distance between you as you struggled against your restraints. You could barely breathe as they hovered over you, their intimidating presence making it hard to stay calm. “Ple- Please. I just, ah, got lost. Please.” You gritted, pressing your feet against the floor and pulling against the ropes, but they didn’t budge. Respectively, Masky and Hoodie, their names fitting, leaned closer, basically ignoring that you had even said anything.

Masky slid away, grabbing your camera off the dining table and sliding it to Hoodie who turned it on. They flicked through the photos, you awkwardly staring as they studied each photo. “Seems like she was just taking photos,” Hoodie grumbled, handing the camera back to Masky as he glared back to you. “Ain’t half bad either.” You flicked your eyes hurriedly between the two, anxiety growing in your stomach as they silently examined your camera and you. There was no reading these guys, their every emotion concealed behind their stupid masks. Were they going to kill you? Over taking some pictures too close to their shitty cabin? What a way to die.

Masky tossed the camera down, you cringing as it scooted onto the table. “Looks like she wasn’t lying. Lucky you.” He grinned slyly, leaning against the table. They both had this bad habit of just looking at you and not speaking like they were communicating in their minds. It seriously freaked you out as you again tried to tug against your restraints. “Just let me go and I swear I won’t tell nobody. I- I’m just tryna take some photos.” You whined, shriveling in on yourself when they pressed closer again. They stood tall, looming above you and just stared. It was impossible not to just squirm under them, their eyes studying every inch of you. Their weird dynamic made you unsure, their personalities so different but complimenting each other perfectly.

Defeated, you hung your head, your head hurting too bad to plead anymore. But when you looked down, you noticed what they were looking at. Your face blushed, eyes widening as you shot your head back up at them. Your shirt was torn to pieces, your bra doing little to hide your tits through the shredded fabric. It must have happened when you were slammed to the ground, the thick underbrush tearing at your clothes before they dragged you back to the cabin. Your cheeks went dark, embarrassment creeping as you tried to hide yourself, but the ropes under your tits pushed them up further. When they noticed your embarrassment, you could hear them chuckle. “Embarrassed, huh? Sorry, Hoodie here isn’t very good about being polite while chasing someone.” He laughed, pressing close to your left, his gaze fitting on your tits. You squeezed your knees together, your stomach tight with embarrassment as Masky stared at you through the mask.

“Yeah, not very sorry if it meant I got a view like this,” Hoodie grunted, shoving Masky’s shoulder as he pressed closer to your right, leaning his masked face down closer to yours. You glanced quickly between the two of them, unsure of what to do as you felt trapped between two wild animals. Anger ragged at you, your face growing hot. These creepy freaks were perverts too, great. You thrashed against the ropes, kicking your feet forward but Masky held your knees easily. Hoodie gripped your jaw in return, angling your face to look at him as they held you still. “But I’m still not opposed to shooting you.” Masky huffed, digging his nails into your skin. Hoodie laughed, turning your head in his hand to get a better look at you. You struggled slightly, pressing your face against his hand in retaliation. “Feisty.” He smiled. Hoodie’s playful provocations and Masky’s intense gaze made you acutely aware of the charged energy between the three of you.

Masky gripped your knees tight, pushing them down against the chair and sliding his hands to your crotch. He tried to rub his hand against your clothed cunt, but you resisted, wriggling your hips down against the chair. “Don’t be all bratty now. I’m sure Hoodie would love to break that little attitude.” Masky huffed, gripping your legs apart. You whined, Hoodie’s answering grip against your cheeks. You glanced between them, shutting your eyes before sighing. “If I let you… whatever. Are you still gonna kill me afterwards?” You whined, struggling against the ropes one final time. The men glanced between each other, then back to you.”Depends on how good you take us. We’re trying to enjoy our week off of work but you had to just run up on us, huh? You gotta earn your way out of this one.” Hoodie barked, fiddling with the zipper of his jeans when you noticed the slight bulge prodding through. Your cheeks grew dark again, your eyes shutting as you gritted your teeth. “Not my fault you’re squatting in the middle of nowhere.” The hooded man gripped your face tighter, tugging his pants down and letting his large cock spring free, the thick length bobbing in front of your head eagerly. “Then maybe don’t go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” Giving the length a few good pumps, he pressed his cock head against your mouth, tapping it against your lips before pulling your jaw down. You glared up at him before sliding your tongue out, flattening against the head. Hoodie’s playful dominance contrasted with Masky’s more forceful desire, their eagerness coaxing you.

Hoodie grunted, holding your jaw open as he pressed the rest of his length in, your jaw unhinging to fit the sheer thickness of him. Your eyes slammed shut, throat constricting around him as you strangled to breathe. He huffed above you, fist tugging at your jaw as he forced you to begin bobbing on the length. You strained, tongue pressing against him as he fucked into your mouth haphazardly. This was rough, but his tight grunts and moans made your stomach flutter. Masky was quick to wrap his fist around your hair, gripping it tight and tugging your head in time with Hoodie’s thrusts.

It was becoming difficult to breathe as Masky slid his free hand down in between your thighs and began to unzip your jeans, pressing his hand down underneath. His fingers found your clothed clit easily, rubbing harshly against the bud and waking it up. You grunted hard around Hoodie’s cock, breath catching and ragged as he refused to let up. His large hands were rough on your jaw, forcing it to stay open as his hips thrust into your throat. It was like Masky could read his movements, pulling your hair back or pushing your head forward to match his hips, making Hoodie grunt and moan loudly above you.

Tears pricked your eyes, the need to breathe becoming desperate, but you knew they didn’t care. Masky hands had abandoned your panties and were now under them, rubbing against your bare clit and making your hips jerk. “Ah- Damn. Bitch’s got a damn good mouth.” Hoodie growled, gritting his teeth. Masky just chuckled, sliding his thick fingers down your folds and pressing against your entrance, your stomach fluttering when he pressed the digits inside. You moaned loudly, slobber drooling out the corners of your mouth as Hoodie nestled his cock inside your mouth and refused to move. Your body strained against the ropes, hands gripping the chair as you begged for air, eyes wide and pleading with tears. Hoodie laughed, hands holding your head still and keeping you suffocating on him. Masky was gripping your hair in return, prodding his fingers deep inside of you and watching closely as you choked.

“Come on now, don’t make the poor thing pass out.” Masky cooed, curling his fingers inside of you and making you gag hard, body straining to moan around the cock. Your head was light, the lack of air getting to you as you choked, eyes growing heavy. Hoodie huffed before he popped out of your mouth, a thick string of slobber still connecting his head to your lips. Pressing your cheeks together, the hooded man chuckled, slapping his glistening cock against your swollen lips. “Nah, she’d be too boring knocked out. I like to watch her submit.” He growled, fisting his length.

You moaned sharply, eyes closing as Masky continued to curl his fingers, drawing noises from your mouth. He slid them out, his fingers glistening with your arousal, holding them up. He let go of your hair, his hand tugging down his zipper and freeing his strained cock. It wasn’t much bigger than Hoodie’s, but your raw throat didn’t make you thrilled to have two large cocks in your face. Hoodie gripped Masky’s wrist, pulling his hand to his mouth as he slid his mask up, barely revealing his mouth. Taking the soaked fingers in his lips, he swirled his tongue around them, reveling in the taste. Masky watched carefully, cock twitching in front of your face until Hoodie popped the fingers out of his mouth, smiling wickedly. “Yum.” He growled, kneeling between your legs and shoving your knees open. As he shoved your jeans down and off your legs, Masky was quick to grip your cheeks and slide the head of his cock into your mouth. However, unlike Hoodie, his hands let go, placing them on his hips as he watched you. “Well?” He grunted, your questioning look evident as your lips stayed wrapped around the head.

Hoodie was pressing your folds apart, his mask still hooked above his nose as do dove in, licking a thick stripe between them. You grunted, flinching as he lapped at your arousal. Masky still watched impatiently, eyes baring into your face. “Told you you were gonna have to work for it. Either get to sucking or I put a bullet there instead.” He grunted, tilting his head.

You furrowed your brows, your anger pooling but soon interrupted by Hoodie’s tongue breaching your entrance and curling. “Fuck you.” Reluctantly, you began to bob your head, chest straining against the ropes to suck as far down as you could. Masky was cocky, a smug expression in his eyes as he watched you slide down as far as you could before choking and retreating. You slipped your tongue around his head, lapping at the precum that pooled out. The tongue in your cunt made it hard to focus, little whines and moans vibrating on the cock in your mouth as your pleasure grew.

This was all kinds of insane, but your resolve was slowly breaking the further Hoodie’s tongue lapped up into your cunt. You huffed, sucking hard against the head of Masky’s cock and trying your best not to gag. He watched, unamused, very different from the grunts and gasps that Hoodie sported earlier. “You can either gag on it, or I’ll make you. I won’t be as nice as my friend though.” He snarled, smacking you on the face lightly, leaving a little red mark. You huffed, Hoodie still eagerly eating you out, groaning as he fisted his cock between his legs. Reluctantly, you unhinged your sore jaw, your throat pleading not to as you pushed further, throat constricting as his head pushed through. Gagging, your eyes slammed shut, gripping the chair beneath you. Only then did Masky’s face contort, little grunts and huffs of air muffled behind his mask. His nails dug into his hips, shallowly thrusting without showing too much desperation.

Your cunt was growing strained, Hoodie’s tongue poking and prodding and dragging you closer to your orgasm. Your back arched, choking on Masky’s cock as your orgasm rocked you, your hips desperately stuttering against Hoodie’s tongue. Your walls constricted, Masky shoving his cock deeper as you heard him grunting, warm seed shooting into your throat. It caught you off guard, but as your eyes rolled and cunt throbbed, you mindlessly swallowed the liquid.

Hoodie pulled his tongue out of your cunt, standing quickly as he pulled a pocket knife out of his jeans. You panicked, fear contorting your face before realizing he was cutting your ropes off, them falling to the floor. “You’re gonna cum on my cock next, sweetheart,” Hoodie growled, gripping your arms and pulling you, hauling you to the couch behind you. You were still panting heavily as he sat on the couch, hauling you onto his lap and straddling his legs. Masky was quick to follow, his ragged pants behind you as he stood behind your back, pressing his chest against your shoulder blades.

Trapped, Hoodie gripped your hips, cock throbbing under you as he angled himself, nudging his head against your clit. You flinched, sensitivity running through you as Masky ran his hands against your ass, gripping tightly and pulling them apart. Reaching around, he forced his fingers into your mouth, your tongue running over the thick digits. Hoodie gripped your hips down, pressing your entrance open with his thick cock, straining against your sensitive walls. You whined, stretching sharply as he pressed inside, moans stifled by the fingers in your mouth. Pulling back, Masky rubbed his wet fingers against your puckered asshole, your spine instantly straightening as you realized what he was doing.

“Oh, don’t get scared now,” He smiled, sliding the digits against your hole. You gripped Hoodie’s shoulders as he pressed inside, your cunt throbbing as he bottomed out, moaning sharply. At the same time, Masky pressed his middle finger inside of your asshole, a sharp sting ringing through your body. Hoodie pulled your hips up, thrusting you up and down against his length, your hands gripping tight on his shoulders. Masky curled his finger, probing and stretching the tight ring of flesh as he worked you open, soon adding another one. You were overwhelmed, the mix of pleasure and pain sending you reeling with moans, your skin hot to the touch.

“God, you’re so tight. Pussy sucking me in.” Hoodie huffed, nails sharp against your hips as Masky tugged your shirt over your head, free hand kneading your tits. You were whining, head spinning as Masky stretched you open, Hoodie filling you at the same time. “Bet you’ve never been fucked in the ass before, huh? Gonna have you screaming.” Masky cooed against your neck, mouthing against the skin as he fingered your asshole quickly.

Pulling out, he nudged the cock head against your hole, gripping your waist as he slowly pushed. “Hold her.” He grunted at Hoodie who held you nestled on his cock, hands forcing you to bottom out as he twitched inside of you. As you felt the slow push, you began to squirm, hips jerking forward. Masky nipped at your neck, sliding his tongue up to the back of your ear and nibbling, groaning as the head of his cock pressed through your entrance and popped in, a sharp sting rining you. Crying out, Hoodie began to slowly thrust up again, huffing his pleasure as he watched your face contort. “Looks so good when you’re helpless.” He grunted, your hands gripping his hands around your hips and pulling, begging him to let off. He still held, teeth gritting.

Masky pressed slowly, cursing as your tight ass clamped down, offering him little room to thrust as he rutted against you. He was big, and the stretch was uncomfortable. But as he reached his hand around to rub your clit, your whines turned to strangled moans, Hoodie resuming his devastating pace.

Before you knew it, they were both thrusting into you, your mixed grunts and gasps echoing through the small cabin. You were overwhelmed, jaw going slack as their hips thrust in time with each other, cocks brushing against the other inside of you. They pressed close against you, Masky’s teeth digging into your skin as his fingers rubbed harshly against your swollen cunt. “Relax, sweetheart, let us just ruin you.” He groaned, hips pressed flush against your plump ass and rutting up, making you whine.

Their pace was ruining you, for sure. Your eyes roll and jaw slack as you grip tight, trying to steady yourself. You couldn’t breathe, air catching in your throat as you cracked a moan. You could feel yourself getting close again, Masky’s fingers working you just right. The sweet mix of pleasure and pain ruined you, gasping hard when Hoodie slammed your hips down. Their pace was becoming ragged as well, hips rutting against you as their groans grew heavy. “Go on, cum all over us, sweetheart.” You whined, their hips heavy and voices rough as you felt that familiar pull spill over. “Oh God, please-”

Your cunt constricted, clit throbbing under rough fingers as you screamed your orgasm. It was dizzying, both holes clamping down and throbbing around the thick lengths as they continued to pound you. Your sensitivity rocked you, hips squirming and tears spilling down your cheeks as you tried to claw away from their still brutal pace.

“Oh don’t go running now.” Hoodie huffed, lifting his hips off the couch and slamming inside, relishing in the way your tightness held him. They both grunted, Masky tangling his hand in your hair and slipping out of your ass, your loud whine making him curse. Hoodie was soon to follow, standing and throwing your back down on the couch, the two of them standing shoulder to shoulder above you. You were panting, sweat coating your brow as you watched them fist their cocks in front of your face, their grunts and huffs echoing behind their masks. “Open up.” Masky barked, pressing his cock close to your face.

Fucked out, you obliged, too tired to give up a fight. They groaned, cock heads touching as they came on your flattened tongue, their seed striping across your face. You closed your eyes, squirming as the warm liquid coated your face and their moans became ragged.

After they settled, your eyes were heavy, blinking calmly as they watched you. Hoodie slid over to the kitchen table, grabbed your camera and flipped it on, laughing as he snapped pictures. Your cheeks were dark, your face fucked out and tired as the flash blinded you. “Looks real good without cum all over you.” He smiled, stuffing his cock back in his jeans as Masky did the same. Masky grabbed your ragged shirt, huffing as he wiped your face clean, your tired eyes making him laugh. “I like you a lot better when your mouth isn’t running.”

You couldn’t be bothered to give a response, just slumping down further into the couch as sleepiness dozed you. The two men chuckled, watching closely as you finally slipped into a very vulnerable sleep.

When you stirred, the first thing you were met with was the forest floor, grass tickling your nose. It was light outside, the early morning light slightly blinding your tired eyes. You sat up, looking around quickly but sighing when there was no sign of the men or their freaky cabin. Your backpack was beside you, leaning against the barbed wire fence where you had entered the forest, your camera sat on top. Standing, you grabbed the camera, flipping it on as you quickly looked through the photos.

You cringed as you looked at the lewd pictures of yourself, embarrassment crippling your face. You were thankful for their mercy, but their bruteness made you groan, your lower region still sore and throbbing. You threw your bag over your shoulders, hopping back over the fence as you made the trek back to your car.

You glanced back one final time, nervously scanning the forest edge, but sighing when you found nothing.

You got more than you came for, but at least your portfolio would be good.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

942 notes · View notes

kirislovelygf · 1 month ago

Note

Req: (pre end of s1 events) Sevika falls in love with the (maybe younger??) reader who works at the last drop and she awkwardly has to figure out how to talk to them, knowing that she's intimidating.

across the bar (sevika x gn! reader)

contents: sevika has a crush on the bartender and keeps coming by but doesnt know how to talk to reader, have a little late night walk, they talk more, fluff, first meeting, confession, first kissesssss, reader has a FAT crush on sevika wrd count: 3.1k (yikesss)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

i’ve been a bartender at the last drop for about a couple months now. and almost every night i’ve been working here, sevika’s been in the corner. i thought she was hot at first.

but then i caught her staring. at first i thought it was cute, like eye flirting but she never actually came up to talk to me. i’d bring shots to her table, some of her minions would come up and order for her, but she never talked to me.

and every time i tried to talk to her, i’d miss her. she’d walk out ot he bar before i could get the chance.

i was kind of creeped out. a big scary woman with scars and dark eyes watching me?

i got freaked out and started carrying a knife with me for the late night shifts.

but then later, she actually started saying hi. my first instinct was to be nice. and there’d be instances where she’d try to come up to the bar but i was busy running around, making drinks.

but the day came when she actually came up to order from me.

i was laughing with my friend as they were sitting, sipping on a beer, when sevika came up and slammed her beer glass on the wood. we stared at her awkwardly and my friend took that as a sign to walk away. “i’ll.. come back later.” he said.

i glared as he left. i look up at sevika. “hi. need a refill?” i asked.

“nah.. what’s that?” she tilted her chin to a green and yellow colored drink a woman was enjoying in the corner booth.

“oh... zaun sunset. want one? i make them myself.” i said to her. she tilts her head slightly. “don’t you make all the drinks yourself?

“i make some of them. but i just pour everything else.” i said. she squints her eyes at me, making my heart drop to my stomach.

“anyway.. i’ll get started on that.” i smiled softly.

i went to get the drinks to make it while glancing every couple seconds. she didn’t leave the bar and everytime we made eye-contact, she’d look away.

now that she’s not in the darkest corner of the bar and i can see her face, she’s actually really hot.

hopefully she’s just hot and not a creep.

i placed two cherries on the drink and went and placed it in front of her with a napkin beside it.

“here you go.” i smiled softly.

she stared at it. “it’s a little.. frilly, don’t you think?” she muttered.

“is it the cherries?” i chuckled.

she stares at it for another second and picks out the cherries onto a napkin i placed beside the drink. i laugh softly before she takes a long sip.

i watched her eyes widen and i chuckled softly. “is it still too frilly?”

“what the hell did you put in this?” she asked. “everything.”

i smiled at her. she's kinda..

someone called me over for a refill. “you enjoy that.” i said to her. i took the cherry from her napkin and popped it in my mouth before i walked away.

the rest of the night continued to pour people's drinks and stuff.

around two a.m, i closed the bar for the night. i waved bye to the last person that walked out and locked the door.

i then turned to the dirty, unorganized, sticky, smelly bar and sighed out.

it was my night to clean so i walked over to the record player before getting started.

while looking for some music, someone knocked on the door.

“we’re closed, go away.” i yelled out, looking back at the door. the silhouette looked familiar and i walked over to the window. i stepped on a chair to look through it.

it was sevika pacing the floor outside the door.

“oh..”

i jumped down from the chair, unlocked the door and opened it. she had her fist rased, about to knock again.

“hey. sorry about that, um.. you know we’re closed right?”

“i know. i just uh..” she stuttered.

“i noticed you didn't leave.. and there’s some drunk guys down the alley. i just.. didn’t want you walking home alone.” she explained.

so she was waiting for me to leave..

“oh! okay.. well, i have to clean the bar, so maybe once i’m done, you can walk me home?”

her eyes widened slightly. “um..”

“i’ll be quick. i could use the company anyway.”

she nodded and i let her in before locking the door again. i went over to the record player and found a song. “la camisa negra” played the opening notes before i turned up the volume.

“can i help?” she asked as i walked over.

“nah, just sit. talk to me.” i smiled. i went to find a rag and spray.

“your name’s sevika, right?”

“um.. yeah.” she said as she took a seat at the bar.

“do you know my name?” i asked as i walked to a table.

“i might be wrong. is it y/n?”

“yeah, good guess.” i chuckled.

i looked up at her, smiling softly. she shakes her head. “i feel bad just sitting here.” she stepped off the bar stool and walked over.

“here..” she stands in front of me and gently takes the rag and spray from my hand.

“i got these tables.” she hummed in a low tone.

i have never been so turned on. oh my god.

i stared up at her as my face went hot. “uhuh.. thanks..” i muttered as i walked away. i looked back at her wiping down the table with her hand.

i huffed and waved a hand at my face. “hot.. hot in here.” i whispered.

i found another rag and spray bottle and joined her.

it was silent for a second before i started talking to her.

“so.. what do you do? besides hang around here..” i asked. she glances up at me before muttering. “um..”

“if i had to guess.. cake decorator?” i smiled. she laughs softly.

“orr.. maybe you make cute clothes for little dogs.” i said.

“dogs need clothes?”

“yeah! they get cold.” i joked. she shakes her head.

he picks up her supplies and moves to a table closer to me. oh my god, look at her muscles. she looks so good.

“so what do you actually do?” i said, regrettably taking my eyes off her.

“i work for vander.. sort of.”

“wow.. i was way off.” i moved to another table. “you just.. move deliveries for him or something?”

“sort of.” she hummed.

i look over and she’s not smiling anymore.

“what about you? is this the only thing you do?” she asked.

“the only thing i get paid for. and it’s not much, you know how cheap vander is.” i joked. she smiles softly.

wait, she's so cute, aw.

“but i paint and stuff sometimes. that canvas over there?” she looks at me and i direct her to a canvas hanging over the booth in the corner. it was of the skyline of zaun but brighter with happier colors.

“i just finished it last month.” i told her.

“whoa...” she hummed. “it’s nice.”

i smiled. “how long did it take you?”

“just a week or two. it’s hard to stop when i’m really into something.” i said.

“hm.. is there more?” she asked.

i look up from the table. i move on to the one she was at. “yeah, i paint stuff all over the city. not those dumb, sloppy graffiti tags kids make.. most of the murals you see, i made them.” i shrugged.

“no way.” she said. “you should show me once we get outta here.”

“you sure? we’re gonna walk a lot.” i said, looking up at her. oh my god, her lips look so biteable. would she mind if i jumped over this table right now?

“i don’t mind.” she shook her head slightly before moving on to another table. i watched her before moving to another table.

we eventually finished and she insisted on lifting all the chairs to put them over the tables. i’m so glad i let her.

i got to watch her flex her muscles for like ten minutes while pretending to clean the bar.

i wasn’t cleaning no damn bar. i was imagining what her muscles would feel like around my head.

“you finished?”

“huh?” she was in front of me on the other side of the bar. she blinked. “are you finished here?”

“oh! yeah, just about.” i chuckled. i quickly wiped it down before moving to put away the bottles of liquor i left out.

i was too lazy to get the step stool from the back, so i tried reaching the top shelf to put away the whiskey.

“let me get that for you.” i heard sevika mutter.she went up behind me and she took the bottle from my hand before placing it on the shelf with ease.

she goes for the other bottle. “this too?”

“yeah..” i breathed out.

i was under her, watching her, staring at her face before she looked down at me.

i should have some shame but i don’t. and i don’t care!

“thanks.”

“no problem.”

“i could use your help around here more often. to reach the tall stuff.” i hummed softly.

i thought she was going to kiss me before she walked away. “maybe..” she hummed.

i swear she was teasing me. or what if she hates me?

my eyes rolled to the back of my head before i went to go find the broom.

she tried to take the broom from me but i insisted it was fine. “it’s okay! i got it.” i laughed.

“just go sit.. pour yourself some whiskey or something.” i chuckled.

“i just put it away.” she said as she walked over to sit. “then water, i dunno.”

we look at eachother, chuckling softly.

“i still feel bad just watching you.”

“there’s literally nothing else for you to do. just talk to me.” i chuckled as i sweeped under tables.

“i’m not.. very good at that.” she said.

“that’s okay. um.. what's some stuff you like to do?”

“drink.. gamble.. smoke.. read.. that’s it.” she shrugged.

“okay..” i chuckled. “reading is cool. what do you like to read?”

“old history books mostly. sounds boring, but i always loved learning.”

i look over at her. “that's… unexpected. you don’t see many people over fifteen reading down here.”

“my old man made me learn when i was young.” she said. “ohh.” i chuckled.

“so history.. what about fun fantasy books, hm? you like the ones with magic and stuff?” i asked.

“when i was a kid, yeah.” she chuckled. “grown-ups can read those books too.” i said to her.

i look over at her. her back against the chair, her arm and hand on the bar, my clothes slipping off.

i mean, whaaatt.

“i dunno.. after growing up down here, i stopped believing in those stories, you know?” she walks over to the record player and changes the music.

“just like everyone around here.” she hummed.

i stared at her. i realized i just sweeped up the whole bar. i walked over to stand next to her seat.

i leaned against the bar. “isn’t it better to believe in those than in whatever mess zaun is?”

“it’d be nice but it’s not reality.”

i studied her face. she had dark circles under her grey eyes. i wonder if her lips look that good naturally or if she likes wearing lipstick.

she looks down at me before nervously averting her gaze.

“d-don’t you need to put that away?” she muttered.

“ah.. yeah. i’ll be right back, then we can get out of here.”

i walked away from her and came back to her, taking a cigarette out of her pocket.

“alright, i’m done. lets go look at some of my art.” i sighed out.

she turns off the record player and i turn off all the lights.

she holds the door open for me. “what a gentle-lady, thank you.” i smiled. she laughed nervously and i turned to lock the door. i glanced at her.

she was nervously flicking her lighter to get a flame.

i smiled to myself at how such a terrifying woman can get nervous so easily.

“come on..” i said to her.

i’ve gone home with other hot people but i never completely trusted any of them. but for some reason, i felt so safe with her behind me.

probably because she’s 6’5, like two hundred pounds of muscle and has a gun on her belt.

i led her through the lanes, showing her a couple of my smaller murals. she had little to say about them but seeing her face, i knew she liked them.

i finished showing her another one before taking her hand. “my best one is this way, come on.”

i led her to an alleyway before i let go of her hand. we turned a couple corners, climbed a couple stairs, until we reached the rooftop of an old building and then onto its balcony.

she jumped down first before holding her arm out to help me.

“thanks.” i smiled at her as i touched the metal floor. we look over at my mural on the wall of an old factory that towered over the neighborhood we were in.

“this is the biggest one i’ve ever done. took me a couple months.” i said to her. “i named her 'the woman in the wind.' i think it’s my best piece.”

she stared up at my piece in awe and i never felt so accomplished for a piece.

i look up at her face. “you’re.. so incredibly talented.” she spoke. “how’d you even come up with something like this?”

“it was supposed to start out as a mural of my mom, who died when i was little.. but i realized when i was sketching out her face that i didn’t remember her as well as i thought i did.” she both leaned against the railing to stare at the artwork.

“even now, i’m not completely sure i remember what she looked like. and it was just barely.” i smiled.

“so, i called it the woman in the wind because everytime i tried to remember her, it was like little details would come and go, like they were blowing past in a breeze..” i shrugged.

i look up at her and she’s still staring. “i know it sounds weird and corny but-”

“no.”

oh??

“it’s.. absolutely beautiful.” she nodded.

she looks at me and smiles. suddenly, the scary woman who never spoke was the sweetest and prettiest person i’ve ever seen.

“you know i’ve walked past this mural… probably a hundred times.” she sighed out.

“i think it’s even more beautiful now that i know someone like you made it.” she said.

no she didn't! that was perfect.

i laughed softly. “come on, don’t make me blush.” i jokingly hit her arm and she laughs.

we’re silent for a moment, just staring at it.

“have you always dreamed of doing something like this?” she asks, taking a drop from her cigarette.

“yeah, but.. i dreamed of becoming someone famous and getting out of the undercity. i’d dream of owning a fancy apartment up on topside, selling my art..” i said.

she chuckled. i shoved her arm. “hey, don't laugh. i was a kid.” i laughed.

“okay, okay..”

ugh, she’s gorgeous.

“you had to have had crazy dreams when you were little too., right?” she chuckled.

she blinks and looks away. “nah..”

“yeah, you do. come on, i won’t laugh.” i smiled.

“i mean.. it was a long time ago but for a while i wanted to be a zookeeper. i liked animals, so..” she shrugged.

“that’s.. not crazy. that's so cute! never would've assumed you were an animal lover.” i said teasingly.

she laughs softly. “you have any pets?”

“nah, i don’t got any time for that. running all over the lanes keeps me busy.”

“hmm..” i watch her with a smile on her face. i dont know why i was ever scared of her, she’s so cute and sweet.

“anyway.. we should get you home.” she said, exhaling smoke. “it’s getting late.”

“you can say you’re bored of me, it's okay.” i said jokingly. “what? no!” she chuckled. i climbed up to the roof before turning to help her but she barely needed it.

we walked through the lanes lit by neon green and purple lights. we talked the whole way home and all the weird junkies and prostitutes and just weird night people walked right past us or avoided us.

i have to take like ten shortcuts just to avoid the main streets. but everyone was terrified of even making eye contact with sevika.

the closer we got to my house, the more she started opening up to me.

we finally arrived to my small place. i had my key in my hand and stepped on one of the steps that led to my front door.

“i really appreciate you walking me home.” i said, leaning on the railing.

“yeah, of course. but.. do you usually work so late? and walk home by yourself? it’s not very safe.”

i laughed. i pulled up my pant leg and took out the knife i mentioned i started carrying when she first started borderline stalking me.

“whoa-” she jerks her head back at the size of the blade.

“yeah, not safe for anyone who talks to me. me? i’m good.” i shrugged. she laughs slightly before i put it back.

“huh.. well, next time, just let me know. i’d be happy to do it again.” she inched closer to me. her chin was slightly lifted up as i’m now around her height.

“unless you have a scarier and taller person to do it instead.” she shrugged. i laughed.

“nah, i think i'll just stick with you.”

ugh can she kiss me already. okay, you know what? i’m getting this over with. fuck a slowburn, i need her tonight.

“actually, it’s way too late for you to walk home.” i said. her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

she knows she will obviously be fine walking at any hour at night by herself.

“you can stay over tonight..” i hummed.

“are you sure?” she asked. i simply shrugged. she looks down at my hand and takes it in hers.

she stares at me for a second before pulling me forward. i caught myself on her chest and we laughed as my hands went to hold her face.

we kissed before her hand snaked around my waist.

i never walked home by myself again after that night.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n: thank you @dopemusiccowboy for submitting this!! i had fun writing it!

#arcane #writers #wlw #wlw writing #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #BIG MAMAAAAAA #i need her so bad ngh #SEVIKAAAA COME HOME THE KIDS MISS YOUUUUU #oneshot #sevika fic #sevika mommy

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literaryvein-reblogs · 5 months ago

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Writing Notes: Exploring your Setting

(Excerpted from the Young Novelist Workbook) ⚜ Basics: Setting

PART 1: Settings That Create Moods

Mood - the feeling of your novel; its emotional quality.

You can also think of the mood as how you want someone to feel while reading your novel.

Examples: playful, serious, mysterious, tense, warm, dangerous, joyous

The setting of a novel - where and when the story takes place. As you know, most novels have more than one setting.

Usually, the author decides to have one large setting.

Example: Los Angeles in 1995

and then many smaller settings

Examples: The laundromat where the characters hang out on the weekends, or the classroom where they get in a fight

Settings do more than serve as a backdrop to the action in your novel. They can also create or enhance the mood of your novel.

Example

If you wanted to create a creepy mood for a scene in your novel, you could start with something like:

"A dead tree stood alone in a dark field. Its branches creaked in a cold wind, and in the distance, something howled.”

These images remind us of dark, disturbing things, and show the reader that the scene of the novel is “creepy” without having to tell them directly.

Describing the Setting: A Sample Exercise

Describe the settings that would help create each of the moods listed below.

Try to write 2 or 3 sentences for each mood.

Include specific details about the sights, sounds, sensations (and maybe even smells) of the settings you choose:

Creepy, Joyous, Suspenseful/tense

Now make up 2-3 of your own moods and describe a setting that would go along with each one.

The last step is to apply your new skills to your upcoming novel.

Think of a scene from each section of your novel.

Then, write or list details to describe a setting that will help create the right mood for each scene.

Example: You might set your climax on the edge of a crumbling cliff at sunset in the middle of a thunderstorm.

A setting from your set-up:

A setting from your inciting incident:

A setting from your rising action:

A setting from your climax:

A setting from your falling action:

A setting from your resolution:

Now you have settings to enhance the different moods that will be in your novel.

PART 2: Settings That Reinforce Characters

Another advanced writing trick is to show things about your characters just by putting them in specific settings.

Examples: If you were writing about a mysterious person, you might place them in a dark mansion on a hill outside of town; if you were writing about a musician, you might place them in a messy room filled with instruments, speakers, and microphones.

Sample Exercise

For each of the following characters, try to come up with a setting that will reflect or reinforce what you imagine about them.

As you write, try to be as detailed as possible.

Don’t forget colors, sounds, and even smells.

Focus on where the character is.

The shy new kid in town:

A secret scientist superhero:

A character from your novel:

Another character from your novel:

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References ⚜ On Setting

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lady-ashfade · 1 year ago

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soulmate au with percy and reader. i was thinking like reader is like a complete nobody at camp and the daughter of some not really known god. percy and reader meet by accident and they figure out they are soulmates. percy at first didn’t want anything to do with it because he had feelings for annabeth but comes around.

Percy Jackson x Fem!reader. (Soulmate au)

-£ Pictured a older version of book Percy, but imagine them staying a camp or coming late.

-£ words: 1.5 words

-£ warnings: Angst, rejection, jealousy, I love annabeth, percy being mean? Idk. Anyway kinda short. What can I say, I love a man with dark hair who has sass?🤷‍♀️

“Do you ever wonder who you’re soulmates is?” percy sat on the log near the cliff looking over the sunset. annabeth keeping her eyes on the forest below, smiling softly as the orange sun hit her skin.

“I’m not worried about it, they will come to me when the time is right.” she replied with a calm voice.

percy could help himself from looking down at her hand and slowly inching his hand near hers. the marking was just late. he knew that she was his soulmate. how could she not be after everything they went through? besides no one knew him like she did.

fate is a funny thing.

because the person who was chosen to be his, and his alone wasn’t the girl he sat next to. it was you. you barely had any contact with percy. never even spiking a word to each other and yet the world still twined you together.

looking back on it he wished he reacted in a nicer way then he did. anything other then what he did, even faint.

he was running a pile of arrows to the archery training ground when he ran into you. as soon as your eyes met the world was slow for just a second and colors shined brighter then they did. in that moment you both felt something that was more then the gods. something even the gods can’t touch.

“woah,” you whisper with your hands still held onto the arrows he was trying to give to you. his hands didn’t stop clinching onto the wood, he couldn’t believe it.

you blink at him for him to do something other then stand there and stare with a open mouth. sure this type of thing wasn’t normal but he didn’t even move a inch.

but you wished he had stayed quiet, “Look, I um..” he let go of the things you two shared and took a step back with hasted.

“I have to run.” you watched him run off like there was nothing important to keep him here.

At first you thought that he was just shy, in shock, and didn’t know what to say. but you soon figured out he wanted nothing to do with you. you followed him around and tried to talk to him at every chance you got but he would always slip from your fingers.

cornering him in the woods at night wasn’t the best idea but you had but there was not other choice. it didn’t feel good to have your soulmate avoid you.

“There is a mistake.” his voice echoed through the woods, “I feel nothing for you. I am sure you are amazing, but you are not my soulmate.”

he watched the tears pool into your eyes like the waves he controlled. taking a step back from the news from his lips that crushed your soul. “I am in love with another.”

Licking your lips you roll your eyes to try and stop the tears forming. “it’s annabeth isn’t it?” he couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to. the silence he gave when he opened his mouth but nothing came out told you everything you needed to know.

“I do hope you live a happy life,” you walked closer to him only inches away, “especially when she finds her soulmate.” you walked past him and down the dirt path back to your cabin where you broke down.

fate was twisted and cruel for giving you him.

day and night you thought about him. and day and night you got worse. everyone could see the toll of being rejected but no one new by who. not a soul knew about you and percy and you honestly liked it that way. no pity glances when they hung out together.

soulmate depression was a serious thing and could lead one down to a never reversible illness. your eyes lost their light, no one ever saw you smile, looking as dead like as possible. every positive feeling in your body was drained out.

annabeth looked over at you at diner time as you stared at the plate in front of you, sitting at the edge of the bench. “It’s terrible,” she said and picked at her food with a fork. “I hope they come around.”

the trio stared at you in pity, one of them feeling guilt. “It’s a really bad case, I feel so bad.” Grover looked sad as he almost cried himself. love was supposed to be for real, that’s what soulmates were for! If he had one he would never let them get like that.

Percy found himself studying the girl. Her hair messy, her face grime and eyes blank and darker then the last time he looked in them. And Percy was the cause.

“Yeah,” the black hairy boy turned and poked at his food.

It has been week since then and a weight sunk in his stomach when he thought of you, which was almost every moment now. He thought about how you would smile before and how he wanted to see that again. He really thought he liked annabeth but each day that feeling went away.

Maybe he could think things over. But how could he apologize? Would you still want him?

But as Percy thought over the war in his head you moved on. Or as much as you could. there was a sickness in your body but you tried to fight it and spent time with your friends.

one boy took you in quickly. the two of you now glued at the hip and he was the only one who seemed to make you smile now.

“Dude,” Grover knocked his shoulder with his own, “What did he do to you?”

The son of Poseidon darted his eyes lowly at some boy. The way you smiled ever so sweetly like he has been wishing to see for weeks but this- This guy could cause it easily. And those small laughed he could hear so faintly in his ears.

“Nothing.” Percy stated while still glaring at the guy heavily.

the satyr nodded but lingered his eyes on his friend for a few seconds. clearly not believing him one bit.

“I have to tell you something,” he pulled his eyes away from you and to his friend. Guilt covering his face. “You know how y/n got reflected by her soulmate?” his voice shaky.

“Of course, it was hard to watch.” He answered. It didn’t take long for him to connect the dots when Percy lifted his brows as a sign. Grover gasped loudly.

“You did- Oh my god’s. How could you?” His mouth was then covered by Percy as he shh’d him.

Percy took a big breath as he held his hand over his mouth, “I’m not proud of it. It was just, I didn’t feel like we could be. I thought me and annabeth were soulmates until they came along,” he turned his eyes back to your direction to find you laughing slightly with your friends.

“I was terribly wrong.”

As much as Grover was mad at his friend he could see the guilt and regret on his face. He helped him come up with a plan, and gave him a very long lecture about love. Annabeth found out, and cursed him out. Saying that the marks don’t lie and was overly upset he could do that for her.

it took a week of long work for him to build up the courage to finally talk to you.

lucky he knew exactly where you would be. in the same stop he saw you for the first time as his soulmate. In the training grounds. You had been walking back to your cabin looking as beautiful as always even with your gloomy change.

you had a basket in your hand. you hummed quietly and kept your eyes on the dirt path underneath your feet. you were too out of it to hear him walking from behind you. “Y/n.” He called your name.

turning around startled you are met with him smiling at you. the boy who broke your heart standing there with a warm smile on his face as if he didn’t do anything wrong.

“Percy.” You whisper and step back. “I um…Do you need something?” you were shaking almost.

He got closer slowly as he got more awkward by the second, “can we talk?” you were hesitant to expect his offer but you nodded.

“I want to apologize for rejecting you. I felt horrible watching you- Well, get like this.” He kept getting closer and you didn’t know if you should run away or scream at him.

“I was wrong. You are the girl for me.” He saw the tears flood in the corner of your eyes and your lips tremble

“you think that’s enough?” you didn’t yell but he could sense the harsh tone in your voice. And you have that right.

“No, not really.” his frowns. Knowing he needed to do more.

“But I’m willing to work as hard as I need to. If you will have me?”

His green eyes filled with sorrow. the feeling to leave him here, with nothing like he did to you. But you couldn’t. You felt better in his presence as he looked at you.

“I’ll allow it, but we take this slow.” All he could do was smile again and nod his head in understanding.

even if you didn’t trust him. he healed your heart in the matter of seconds.

#percy jackson x you #Percy Jackson x reader #book percy jackson #book Percy #percy jackson imagine #soulmate au #percy jackson x fem!reader

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csainzsgirly · 6 days ago

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cs55 - "Just sit down on it" smut (18+), p in v, unprotected sex, sauna sex, public sex (if you squint), riding carlos (he really wants you to), him worshiping you, creampie, cumplay

The delicious electricity is buzzing in your body of just being around Carlos. The air was tense, but in a good way, sucking all the oxygen out of your lungs. His eyes, dark and predator-like, were focused on you, as if you were a pretty deer in the headlights, and he was waiting to consume you. Carlos truly did consume you, but again, in the best way possible. You fell in love with him again every winter break, when his undivided attention was for you, when he was completely yours, his phone was off, and it was just the two of you. You felt the warmth blossoming in your chest at the thought of the past nights, spending the sunsets in the cabana, getting wine drunk and drunk on each other, which would start with innocent kisses and unfolded into the best sex of your life, every night.

Your thighs were even a little sore, the muscles in the back of your legs complaining a little when you hopped on the bike this afternoon. Anyone who looked closer could see the faint marks of his fingertips that had pressed into your hips so hard as he pulled you over his cock over and over again, watching you fall apart underneath him just to bury his mouth between your thighs after, having you make the prettiest sounds for him. The mere thought caused the goosebumps to rise upon your skin, even while the sauna was burning hot and droplets of sweat were rolling down your spine. You looked over your shoulder at Carlos, who was sitting back, thighs spread, arms behind the back of his head, his eyes still boring into yours, gliding over your body in the bikini.

The blue one was his favorite, not just because he was going to be dressed in blue from the start of the new season, but because the color looked so pretty on you. The small panties were tied together on either side of your hips, the top clinging to your tits in a way that never failed to make him hard. You finally made your way back to him, extending the second glass of wine you were carrying. Carlos took it from you, his other hand landing on his thigh, already expecting you to get into his lap. You easily slid onto his thighs, your hand landing on his chest. "Dame un beso, mi reina," he hummed, palm squeezing your thigh. "You use that so often on me and it still works," you sigh, your fingers trailing up his strong pecs, landing on the side of his neck.

His hair was salty, slicked back from moving his fingers through. He was so tan from just a week in the Maldives, it was nearly unfair. "I know it does," Carlos grins, his hand gliding to the small of your back, pulling you closer, pulling you over his erection. The friction made you squirm a little, his hot breath ghosting over your face before your lips connected in a delicious kiss. In combination with the few sips of wine, your mind was already spinning, feeling the heat of his body against yours, his abs against your stomach, how big he was beneath you. And you were talking about not just his goodies, his whole body. You weren't exactly petite, but he made you feel that way, and you loved it.

Within a quick, cheeky move, the strings of your top were loosened, making you pull back from him and cover your tits with your arm. "There are people around," you tssk. "They can look away if it bothers them. Or stay watching," Carlos simply replies, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it, moving your arm away from your chest, eyes dropping to your hardened nipples. "That's sooo naughty," you whisper, earning a low chuckle and another kiss. His hips buck up slightly, drawing a whine from your throat as his other hand put down the glass of wine, pulling on the flimsy panties, intensifying the friction on your clit. "Look who's talking," Carlos teases, leaving hot, open mouth kisses on your neck.

You could taste the wine on his tongue when your lips connected again, his tongue licking into your mouth. Your hips rolled down on him, feeling him grow in his shorts. Carlos' fingertips slipped inside your panties, rubbing circles over your clit and spreading the slick wetness that was leaking from your pussy. His other hand moved into the hair in the nape of your neck, teeth nipping at the skin of your throat while you whimpered. "Ride me?" his voice rasped in your ear. "You're insane," you reply, your hand sliding down his abs, finding his happy trail that led your fingers to the waistband of his shorts. "Solo para ti." His pupils are blown when you look into his eyes, lips parting with a soft breath as your hand wraps around the girth, thumb spreading the precum over the fat head of his cock.

His thighs spread a little further when your hand starts to jerk him off, the sight causing the butterflies to flutter around in your stomach. Everything about him is so beautiful, so manly, so hot. You gnaw at your bottom lip as you look at his cock, the rip red and eager, the vein on the underside throbbing at the touch of your hand. "Mi amor..." Carlos complained, leaning forward to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, both hands grabbing your ass to hurry you over him. "Just sit down on it," he groaned, making you giggle a little. Carlos shoves your panties aside, and you raise your hips, slowly sliding down on his cock. The stretch is amazing every time, pushing against the walls of your pussy, nearly splitting you in half. Carlos moans at the feeling of being completely inside you, his eyes zoning in on where he fills you up.

His hand brushes over your lower abdomen, pressing against where the tip of his cock was bulging. "Feel me there, hmm?" his voice rasps. "Fuck me," you whine, giving him a high-pitched moan as he slaps your ass. There's a sly smile on your face, damn well knowing he wants you to do the work. You slowly start moving your hips, sliding your cunt up and down his cock, sucking him and gripping him tightly to feel all the ridges and veins. He feels so good. Your palms press firmly against his shoulders, nails biting at his skin. The clip that held your hair up had fallen out when his hands ruined your pretty updo. "Te ves tan bonita así, fuck," Carlos cursed under his breath, watching your tits bounce in his face. One of his hands groped them, thumb rolling over your nipple, watching your head roll back with a moan.

He looked up at you with dark, hazed eyes, leaned back to watch you properly, drinking you in, loving - worshiping, what he was seeing. Your toes curled as you ground your hips firmly down on him, finding an angle that made him hit your g-spot perfectly. Carlos' fingers slotted around your hips again, helping you up and down his cock as he felt you squeezing him. He got lost in how good you felt, how slick, warm and wet your pussy was, the obscene sounds that bounced off the walls in the sauna. A few strands of his hair hung in front of his eyes, which you slicked back with your fingers, his hair damp with sweat. His body was glowing, muscles prominent. You could feel him tense up under your touch, his breathy grunts telling you he was just as close as you were.

"Shit," you muttered, feeling his thumb rubbing firm circles over your clit again. Carlos started meeting your thrusts, hands pawing at your hips to keep you close. "You're crazy," you moan, knowing it wouldn't take long before he'd fill you with his cum. The thought of doing this, semi-publicly, made him throb inside you, especially as he knew you'd have to walk back to the cabana after. The image of his cum dripping down your thighs nearly made him go feral. You didn't even try to push away, you gladly let him slip into you deeply, a few more circles of his thumb on your clit letting you spiral into the most delicious orgasm. You looked down at him as he came, his abs contracting, eyes screwed shut. You admire him for a couple of seconds, moving your hands up his chest again before cupping his face.

"You make me want to bite you," you sigh. "In a good way," you add, nipping at one of his beefy biceps. "If you want me to eat you, you can just ask," Carlos says, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "I'll double it and give it to myself later," you muse, toying with the hair in the nape of his neck. You swivel your hips slightly, making him groan. "There are no people in line to use this sauna, right?" you ask, looking over your shoulder before getting off his lap, kneeling between his thighs. Your teeth bite into his equally beefy thighs, satisfied when a smirk shows up on his handsome face. His cock throbs when your lips come near it, blood rushing south again when your hand wraps around it. "Talk about crazy," he sighs, head lulling back when your mouth takes him in.

#carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #cs55 #cs smut #cs x reader

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obxsummer · 1 month ago

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bruises // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: the pogues go searching for jj while sarah volunteers for babysitter duty, lots of therapy conversations happen, and john b's crash out starts right now

warnings: lowkey a filler chap, lots of sappy conversations, minor john b crashout

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything

John B had his work cut out for him. Not only was JJ not here to be an extra set of eyes on you, considering you were practically dead in his arms hours ago, but Sarah was pregnant, and he was not happy about either of you tagging along on this adventure. Stakes were higher than ever and now that they knew Groff was unhinged beyond their initial thoughts, everything was risky.

The only thing he had going, was Sarah practically refused to move from your side. After a bit of persuasion and a promise that they would come back tonight, she agreed on hanging back with you as the rest of the group went in search of JJ.

You weren’t happy at the idea of being left out, but you were exhausted and John B was quick to clock your slight incohesion. Pope confirmed it was common after the lack of oxygen to the brain and you just needed to take things slow, so you agreed. If the group was going to Morocco, you needed to be at your best.

John B was hesitant to leave you both, considering everything that happened the last time he’d left you here. All of the Pogues were hesitant to get on the boat, actually. The past few hours were really scary, but JJ was missing and no Pogue was ever left behind, so they had to go.

Pope was up on the lookout deck, his eyes scanning the sunset covered water for any sign of movement. Cleo was next to John B as he drove steadily, too scared to go any faster in case he missed something. The dark-haired girl was looking closely through a pair of binoculars, but it was difficult with the sun reflecting off the water. That left Kie to huddle around your phone screen where JJ’s location had stopped responding, the 2 hours ago next to his name haunting them. There was nothing in sight, but his location had to be in this general area.

The unexpected part, was how quiet John B had been. He’d been unusually silent when making a game plan and shoving everything into backpacks. It was obvious there was a lolt going through his mind. He’d come way too close to loosing each and every one in the group, but to have both you and Sarah lifeless in front of him was too much, way too much to handle, and he was having a tough time wrapping his head around it.

“He’s gotta be somewhere around here!” Kiara called back to John B as she glanced at your phone. There wasn’t much to say, all of their thoughts focused on getting JJ and getting the group back together.

And then John B heard it, faintly, but it was enough to make him perk up with more hope than before.

“I see him!” Pope shouted from above, his finger pointing out in the general direction ahead of the boat. “He’s over there! Keep it steady, John B.”

Your friends moved instantly, Cleo leaving your brother to help where she could as Pope climbed down from above. Kiara yelled JJ’s name, and John B could barely make out his figure in the water as the boat floated closer. Pope and Cleo moved with clean motions to haul him up on the back of the deck.

“What the hell happened?” John B asked as he crouched in front of him, eyes instantly going to the red color taking over the lower portion of his abdomen where his hand was barely hovering. Cleo’s hand fell against it wordlessly, applying enough pressure that he groaned in pain.

“Groff,” JJ grunted when she pushed down further and Pope winced at the sound. He knew the bloodflow would slow with more pressure, but he really wasn’t a fan of any of you being in pain. The important part was JJ was alive.

Cleo eventually managed to slow the bleeding enough that JJ could sit up slightly, being careful not to shift too fast in risk of reopening the skin. Kiara watched him carefully, knowing shit was about to hit the fan in the few seconds it took for JJ to realize you weren’t there.

“You okay?” John B asked as Pope took over steering the boat back home.

JJ let out a deep breath, finally taking in what was in front of him now that he could focus. “‘M fine. Where are the girls?” He looked to John B for an answer, considering both you and Sarah were his to watch.

The slightest tug on his best friend’s lips was enough of an answer before JJ demanded to be home, now.

You and Sarah had been pretty quiet all evening. Not that you could say much to begin with, but whatever show she had turned on was at least keeping you from a spiraling mind. Pope had sent a text that they found him, the news slightly delayed by the lack of service in the open water, but it was enough relief to the two of you that you couldn’t sit still.

“Here,” Sarah handed you a cough drop in hopes of soothing your throat. You nodded in appreciation, popping the hard piece in your mouth and resuming your stare out at the water.

Sarah plopped on the hammock next to you and tucked her feet up. The TV was still playing in the background but it no longer held her interest. She was doing her best to keep you occupied, but if she was being honest, it helped her too. There hadn’t been much time to really process the fact that she would soon be responsible for someone other than herself. Sure, there was still a lot of time to go, but the whole idea of growing a human in her own body was crazy.

“You feel any better?” She asked softly. Pope had given her a list of things to look out for, so she checked in often but didn’t want to annoy you.

You nodded, and really meant it. Your chest was still sore but slowly improving with the medicine in your body. Your headache had thankfully disappeared and you were still able to recount everything that happened. It was the mental effects of it all that you knew would take time. It wasn’t healthy, the way your group went through these life altering moments and brushed them off like it was an everyday occurrence. You could run through the insane list, but it wouldn’t make you feel any better, especially when you had a feeling it would continue to grow much to your dismay.

The second you caught sight of the approaching boat, both you and Sarah were fumbling out of the hammock, slight laughter following the chaos as you guys rushed to meet the group at the dock. You weren’t sure how JJ was going to react to everything, and you were more nervous about him feeling guilty than anything else.

The nerves turned into concern when you watched John B help JJ stand and lean against him so they could hobble their way up the dock. You moved past the others to intercept your brother and fiancé, who was holding his side carefully.

“Careful,” John B warned when you took JJ’s other side, the two of you helping the exhausted boy up to the bait shop. His shirt was wet and cold, and the small gasps leaving his mouth made you want to cry, knowing he likely got left in the water for who knows how long.

JJ managed to pull himself up on the counter when you patted the surface wordlessly. You reached for the first aid kit beneath the counter, giving your brother a pointed look. You weren’t sure if he already told JJ what happened, but considering the boy in front of you wasn’t losing his shit, you figured nothing had been shared. But it was only a matter of time before JJ picked up on the fact that you were unusually quiet.

You tugged on his shirt, helping him pull it off before your hands went to work inthe first aid kit to clean the wound properly.

“Got me with the damn anchor,” JJ cursed as you brushed a particularly sore spot while trying to clean the outside. “He wanted to run to Morroco without you guys. Told him no, I wasn’t stealing and he flipped.”

“So he has the map and the lens?” John B asked, keeping his eyes on you as you moved fluidly with your work. He wasn’t sure at what point you became so good at patching all of them up, and quite frankly, it made him sick to his stomach to think about.

JJ nodded. “Yep. Not sure how he got the scroll, actually. Meant to ask you,.” His attention turned to you. “What happened? Did he show up?”

You glanced up at him and your luck ran out at that moment. At this angle, JJ could clearly make out the hand shaped bruise on your neck and his vision went red. His fingers were so gentle on your chin as he titled your head back further, a lump growing in throat at the sight of it. “Who did this to you?”

You blinked away tears and tore the packaging off the antiseptic spray, attempting to ignore the question, but also knowing better.

JJ whispered your name, his hand trying to stop your work on his waist to pull your attention back. “Did he do it?”

“She sent an SOS text, dude.” There was a hint of anger in John B’s voice as he took a step closer. His emotions were winning over his head, and suddenly he was pissed. “Your dad came back here. Knocked out Kie before he came outside and went after her. Busted the Twinkie window with her head. Locked her in the fucking cooler. JJ, I gave her CPR!”

You took a step back when John B got too close to you and JJ. There had been plenty of times when John B acted out like this, and you always blamed it on him inheriting your dad’s quick-to-anger attitude. But now? You weren’t in the condition to hold him back and his misplaced anger was directed toward JJ.

“CPR?” JJ repeated the phrase, his eyes teary as he looked over at you. You blinked, for once at a loss for words (not that you really had any). “What?”

John B’s arm swiped across the counter, clearing it of half the little knicknacks you loved to organize. They came falling with a crash and you jumped, staring at him in shock.

“She wasn’t breathing! Fucking lifeless, and cold, and she wasn’t breathing,” Your brother was yelling now, a fury in his eyes as he recounted the events that just occurred hours ago. “I thought she was dead, and you weren’t… you weren’t even here. We needed you, she-I… I needed you.”

JJ was moving before you had a chance to, pulling John B into a tight hug as your brother fell into a fit of sobs. You were shocked, having no idea this scared him so badly, and then you felt selfish and guilty that you had been the source of that feeling.

Sarah had come in at the sound of yelling, having been recounting everything with Kie, Pope, and Cleo outside when John B’s voice took over. She wasn’t necessarily prepared for the two boys to be wrapped in an embrace, but she was understanding regardless. John B had been shaking since he pulled you off the floor of the surf shop hours ago, and despite Sarah’s best efforts, she knew nothing would calm him until he got these emotions out in the open.

The boys were holding their own quiet talk so you resorted to cleaning up the first aid garbage, suddenly unaware of what to do in this kind of scenario. You weren’t a stranger to JJ and John B’s friendship, but their conversations were never regarding something this heavy. This is what you did best though, deflect and retreat back into your own mind, leaving them to figure this out on their own.

Sarah watched you move around quietly, realizing shit had probably hit the fan between the two boys and you didn’t even have a moment to explain. She knew from experience you didn’t handle stuff like this well, especially when it regarded you because you would feel like it was attention seeking.

Taking the steps toward you, Sarah cleaned up the remaining pieces of the first aid kit and stashed it back under the counter as you stood silently. She grabbed your arm gently, slipping her hand down until her fingers intertwined with yours and she could pull you from the bait shop to let John B and JJ have their moment.

You followed her easily, figuring she wouldn’t have pulled you away if she thought it was the wrong idea and continued back into the house. Cleo was already up at the stove, conjuring up some meal she’d learned while directing Pope as her executive sous chef.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the group to filter into the somewhat normal routine, each person taking up their dedicated task around dinner time. The large table somehow managed to fit all of you amongst the plates and silverware. You took your usual spot next to JJ, neither of you really speaking, but his hand on your thigh said enough in the moment.

You let the group carry conversation, praying nobody would bring your name into this shit mess where you’d have to attempt to explain yourself. It felt like a broken record in your head - something happens, there’s a misunderstanding/argument, a breakdown, you apologize and cry, then go to bed. And it just kept repeating and repeating and repeating. Every time you told yourself you could move forward, something grabbed you and pulled back just as hard.

You waited until most of the group had finished eating before starting to clean up, your part of the dinner chores alongside John B of all people, because neither of you could cook to save your life. The group slowly shuffled out, JJ giving you a squeeze and a quick kiss, whispering to talk in a few. You moved around the kitchen fluidly, but paused when John B set your nearly full plate in front of you on the counter.

“Hey.” He was gentle as he pulled the dirty plate you were washing from your hands to set it in the sink. His free hand shut the water off, Kie’s voice in the back of his head telling him not to waste it. You almost wanted to laugh at how dad-like he looked with the dish towel over his shoulder and a hand on his hip (okay Steve Harrington). John B pointed to your plate to prove a point. “Skipping meals isn’t something we do in this house, you know?”

You nearly rolled your eyes but figured it would be better not to. “Sorry.”

John B winced at the raspy tone in your voice, but even he had to admit you sounded better than earlier. He sighed and tugged at his hair. “I’m sorry if I scared you earlier, just…um. Lot on the brain, you know? You, Sarah, JJ missing and-”

“I can take care of myself, John B,” You whispered.

His heart fucking broke.

He knew you didn’t mean it poorly, and he tried to remind himself that you had been through a lot today, but John B was more emotional than he had been in a really long time, so hearing that from you…

You noticed the instant tears in his eyes and felt horrible. It was easy to get caught in defense mode and listen to the desire of shutting people out so nobody can hurt you but yourself. You’d tried to remove that aspect of your healing process, but it had been the hardest one to beat.

“I know you can,” He replied like you hadn’t just metaphorically stabbed him in the chest with your words. “Thanks for that reminder, oh-”

His sarcastic comeback was interrupted by you landing against him and hugging him tightly, all his fears floating out the door with your embrace.

“I can take care of myself, but that doesn’t mean I ever stopped needing you,” You clarified as he returned the hug with as much pressure, the physical touch healing pieces of you that neither wanted to mention. As long as you were here, you would need John B, and he needed you. The world had done a lot to pull you apart (and shit, do we mean a lot?), but you’d survived it all so far.

Before Sarah, before this treasure hunt started, before the Pogues came about, John B was a big brother. Had been one actually, for as long as he could remember. You were a year and a half younger than him, so all he really could remember was being your big brother. Granted, he wasn’t always good at it, but he tried his best and he really didn’t want to mess up now, not when you needed each other most.

“I thought y’all didn’t do sappy shit?”

You turned your head against John B’s chest to see JJ leaning against the staircase watching the two of you. He had clearly gotten a shower and was looking refreshed. Your brother huffed, feigning annoyance, “First time for everything, I guess.”

“Mind if I steal my girl?”

“One Direction headass,” You mumbled as John B’s hand rubbed across your back before he separated, letting you go so you could cross the room. Your fingers were cold against JJ’s warm skin, lightly brushing under his shirt where you could feel the rough texture of fresh bandages, likely from Pope’s precise hands.

JJ’s arm fell across your shoulders softly, his fingers lightly pinching your skin before he gave John B an affirming nod and started toward the door with you in grasp. The air was a little chilly, the rumble of thunder nearby telling you a storm was pushing its way in and would provide you a good lullaby for the night.

JJ tumbled into your large outdoor egg chair, his hands tugging your waist to bring you with him and you laughed, being careful to watch his side as you straddled his lap and placed your hands on his shoulders. His eyes were a shady blue, full of relief and appreciation as he looked up at you.

“Hi.” You broke the surrounding silence, your fingers playing with the strands of hair against his neck. He was in desperate need of a haircut if you had any say in it, but there simply wasn’t time.

Closing the distance between the two of you, your lips met his softly, his hands wandering across your lower back to pull you even closer as if you weren’t already laying across him. Your mind went quiet, competely occupied with the boy in your hands and the way he seemed to hold your entire universe. When a small gasp left his mouth, you shifted back, scared you moved too much and were irritating his side.

He shook his head at your worried expression when he met your gaze. JJ’s finger brushed back a piece of hair, his lips pulling into a smile just for a moment before he frowned again. “Hi, sweet girl.”

“It’s okay,” You reassured when you realized he was focused on the bruising around your face and neck, his fingers light as they brushed over the coloration.

He shook his head sadly. “No, it’s not. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have left with him.”

You pulled his hand from your cheek and kissed his palm, holding it between yours. “Jayj, in no way whatsoever, was anything that happened today your fault. You had no idea, none of us did.”

Whether the shakiness in your voice surprised him or not, you couldn’t tell. He sighed, letting his head drop just below your chest, thankfully far enough away from where John B and Pope’s hands had been. You could feel the tightness and bruising with each motion, so you could only imagine how rough it would look after tonight. It wasn’t extremely painful, just annoying enough that you didn’t want to move too quickly and shift more than needed.

“You had a bad feeling and I didn’t listen,” He spoke, moreso to himself than you, but you heard it nonetheless.

“Look at me.” When he listened, you gently cupped his face with your hands. “I love you so much, and I would never ever blame you for someone else’s actions, whether you had control over it or not. Understand?”

He gave a weak nod, still in his head about everything and you knew it would take time to process it all, so you didn’t push. You wanted to point out that things didn’t necessarily go well on his side either considering he came back with a bloody waist and was left stranded in the ocean, but you figured he got the gist.

“Can I see?” The question was so quiet you almost didn’t hear it and blinked at him. His gaze was on the bruising again and you sighed.

“J-”

“Please?”

The crack in his voice made you want to cry but you knew if roles were reversed and your dad hurt him, you’d want to see too.

You shrugged the arms of the sweatshirt off and JJ took over, slowly pulling the material from your frame to leave you in sweatpants and sleep tank. It was low cut enough in the neck that the full aftermath of this afternoon was in view.

The purplish-blue tint to your skin was weird to see, but it was almost relieving to know your body was working to heal. Your breath was shaky as you took in the sight for yourself for the first time and everything seemed to hit you like a wrecking ball.

You had died. For a moment of time, you weren’t breathing and your heart had stopped.

“C’mere.”

JJ anticipated a breakdown from the moment he saw you on the dock. While John B didn’t tell him anything, he knew you were on a build-up from the rollercoaster of the past few days and hadn’t had time to process it all through. From everything with Rafe and Charleston, to getting engaged, to his so-called father putting hands on you… it was a lot, and even JJ wasn’t sure he understood it all.

It hurt to breathe as you sobbed into JJ’s chest, every inch of your body so tense and rattled with anxiety that you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. “I-I.. was so scared, and-”

“Shh, just breathe, baby.”

JJ held you tightly but kept a careful eye so that he didn’t squeeze too harshly. It had been a while since the two of you had a good cry session (it’s healthy, by the way), so he knew you were overdue. You hated crying, and he did too. But your therapy sessions promised it would help release pent-up emotions and you could feel it.

Sometimes, you just needed a release, and JJ was always happy to hold you through it.

You settled down a few moments later, overwhelmed with your tears that the day was finally catching up to you. JJ didn’t appreciate your joke that you’d taken a good nap earlier, but the roll of his eyes told you he understood your humor to cope.

After a while, JJ helped you wiggle back into your sweatshirt and soon enough, your friends trickled outside. Pope set to work started a bonfire for the group, various blankets being passed around. Even though summer was trickling into the fall, the water always created a cool breeze that made you want to curl up under the fabric.

John B paused to kiss your forehead before settling into the bench chair with Sarah under his arm. Kie fumbled with the joint in her hands, cursing softly to herself as she fucked with the lighter. Cleo eventually pulled the worn lighter out of her hands and handed her a new one that sparked instantly, and Kiara literally sighed in relief.

“Morocco, huh?” John B’s attempt at breaking the silence made you burst into laughter, a few chuckles falling from your friends. Your brother faked offense at your reaction and it made you laugh even harder.

JJ smiled as your laughter shook him too, the mood shifting to a much lighter one. Everyone fell into their normal ease, jokes and one liners flowing like your usual chaos. This normalcy was the one you’d craved for so long. To just be carefree, comfortable, and home where you were surrounded by people you loved.

You knew better, though.

Moments like these were always the calm before the storm, and whatever awaited you tomorrow would be nowhere near as kind to you as this.

a/n: sorry this was probably so boring and short, i couldn't get my brain to do anything LOL but buckle up for next one ;)

song for the chap: bruises by queen reneé

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything

#outer banks x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #goy series #outer banks imagine #jj maybank imagine #john b routledge #outer banks #jj x reader #outer banks series #obx x you #jj maybank x you #routledge!reader #outer banks jj #obx jj #obx #obx4 #obx netflix

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half-oz-eddie · 3 months ago

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“C’mon.” Buck said randomly, patting his lower back.

“What?”

“I-I wanna give you a piggy back ride.”

Tommy groaned. “Evan. I can walk just fine.”

Buck patted his back again. “Come on. Let’s go.” He said more adamantly, refusing to take no for an answer.

Tommy reluctantly climbed on Buck’s back , wrapping his strong thighs around Buck’s hips, and draped his arms over him.

Buck hoisted Tommy up slightly and grasped his thighs. “Alright, there we go.”

Tommy was awkwardly silent as Buck took him around the park. Buck could feel Tommy’s heart pounding against his back and sensed his unease and tension.

“Nobody’s looking at us, Tommy.” Buck said, causing him to laugh.

“Very cute, Evan. I remember that being my line.”

“Well, now it’s mine.” Buck decided as they walked along a bridge over a pond, spotting some ducks in the water. “I know you’re not used to this—“

"You're right. I'm not." Tommy admitted. "The men I date don't usually offer me piggy back rides."

“There’s a first time for everything.” Buck said with a slight chuckle.

They continued their stroll through the park enjoying the slight breeze and calm ambiance. Buck told Tommy some fun facts about the trees, flowers growing near the pond, why ducks shouldn’t eat bread and even informed Tommy that the inventor of frisbees came up with the idea as a teenager, throwing popcorn tin lids with his girlfriend.

“It’s a really beautiful day, isn’t it?” Buck sighed wistfully, admiring the scenery.

“Mhm.” Tommy hummed as he buried his reddened face in Buck’s shoulder.

This was the safest he’d ever felt in a relationship—perhaps even his whole life.

He felt so secure. So happy. So…small. Which would probably sound silly if said aloud. But, nonetheless. Tommy did feel small, being held so securely with his feet dangling above the ground—yeah. How could he not love this?

“If you hide your face, you’ll miss the sunset.” Buck said softly, prompting Tommy to lift his head.

“Are you sure you’re not tired?”

“I had 2 cups of coffee this morning. I’m pretty wide awake.”

“No.” Tommy snorted. “I meant—are you tired of carrying me?”

“Oh!” Buck laughed. “No. It’s fine.”

A brief silence fell upon them as they watched the fiery red sun setting.

“Did you know the sun starts to lose its color as it sets? As it drops into the horizon, it loses its blue, then green and yellow, then orange wavelength hues. And all that’s left is red.”

“That’s why it looks like a fireball when the sunsets.”

“Yep. It’s probably the only fire we never want to put out.” Buck said with a smirk.

“I would never want to put out our fire either.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, you know.”

“Yes I-I do know. And I love you too.”

“So, can I give you a piggy back ride home?”

Buck shook his head. “I’m not putting you down.”

“I could just jump off your back.”

“If you try it, you’ll take me down with you, because I’m not letting you go.”

“Evan…” Tommy warned, pulling Buck down into the grass with him. The two tumbled around for a few moments, then lied in the grass, laughing together until the sky turned dark and everyone around them had already gone home.

#i love tommy feeling soft and small with buck #and i love the early stages of their relationship being puppy love #i want them both to be happy #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #firebeast #firebeast.doc

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vienssunshine · 4 months ago

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The Girl Next Door

pairing: Makima x fem!reader nsfw/cw: dom!Makima, mind control, mind break, noncon, gore, dark wc: 3.3k author's note: this was inspired by a tiktok cosplay i saw description: a lady covered in blood shows up to your door, just wanting to be let in

With money so tight, moving into one of the small houses in the outskirts of the city was your only option. Though a little rundown, your new home seemed nice enough, cozy and rustic, with your favorite part being how it sits right on the coast. The papers were signed and you could finally breathe a sigh of relief; living in a place of your own, without loud roommates or money-hungry landlords, was just what you needed to get your life back on track.

But then you tried to invite your coworkers over for a small housewarming party. Their smiles fell when you shared your address, and they asked only one question: did you know what went on at the house at the end of the street?

You had noticed it, of course, the house was hard to miss, so large that it seemed like it was always about to teeter and fall off its perch on the cliffside. But it ultimately wasn’t a factor when buying your property, the price point of your small home the primary consideration. The only thing you had noted was the pleasant view it provided during sunset, the mansion-house sitting over the water reflecting the sky’s blend of colors was a picturesque sight. It was only when night fell and the wind began carrying screams through your windows you finally believed your coworkers' once ridiculous claims—that the house was owned and used by members of the Yakuza.

The first few weeks settling in to your new home were difficult. The noises at night haunted you—the rumbles of tires on gravel as cars traveled past your house up the cliff, the raucous laughter during game nights, and the occasional round of muffled gunshots. You’d close the windows and press your pillow to your ear.

Sometimes men would come up to your doorstep, banging on the door to ask for help finding the only house they could be looking for. You’d quickly give them directions, but once they got a good look at you, they’d change the conversation, saying how they could help you out with your living situation, take you to a much nicer place to which you’d have to awkwardly laugh and excuse yourself. You got an additional lock and stopped answering the door.

It took you the better half of one month to learn all you need to know about this place, which is that it’s best to ignore anything that happens outside of your home.

Yet, tonight is eerily quiet. You hadn’t even had to shut the window. Besides the chatter from the show playing on your TV box, there’s only the gentle crash of waves on the shore and the low hum of the wind.

Your gaze wanders from the flickering screen to the open window behind you on the couch. The gap in the trees swaddling your house allows a straight line of sight from your living room window to the front of the infamous property, a sight you once admired. You felt like the biggest idiot in the world when you found out you had just moved into one of the worst areas near the city, but it's not like the place screams “this is a Yakuza house, don’t move here!” In fact, aside from the few cars pulled up in the driveway, the place looks abandoned tonight—all the lights are off, leaving the full moon alone to illuminate the house. It’s a strange sight for a Friday night. The place is usually spilling over with drunk guests on weekends, a chaos you usually can avoid by working the night shift.

Then the front door opens and a figure strolls out onto the porch. It’s not any of the men you’ve seen lurking around before—it’s someone new, a woman.

She doesn’t look like she’s from the area, dressed plainly yet sharp in a patterned button-up, a black tie, and slacks. Most of her hair is pulled back aside from her bangs that frame her face neatly. What could she be doing out there so late at night? Does she not know what goes on at that house?

The woman descends the stairs, stepping out into the moonlight. With a better look at her, the pattern on her shirt sticks out as strange. Dark, red splatters soak her white blouse. Your breath catches in your throat. It looks like blood.

Her eyes flick over to yours. They’re orange and bright with a glow that cuts through the dark veil of the night right into your window.

You duck down onto the couch, curled up into yourself.

She saw you.

You don’t know how it’s even possible, your house is almost a mile away and in the company of the other homes scattered along the treeline that look just like yours. How did she know to look at your house, right at your open window?

Whatever the explanation, you just poked your nose into business you shouldn’t have. Your one fucking rule and you broke it.

You get up and lock your door. Both locks. You test the knob with a twist, and then a yank. When it doesn’t move, you back up and sit down onto the couch, pulling your knees up to your chest. The TV has switched to running infomercials, but the chatter of the hosts is distant and unintelligible, blocked out by each drum of your rapid heartbeat echoing through your head.

Maybe you’re overreacting, letting your coworkers' stories get to you. No, there's something different about this kind of panic—it's instinctual. There's something wrong that you can't place but your body can, even if it can't communicate it back to you.

There’s a knock at your door. You startle to your feet. No, it can’t be her. That’s not physically possible.

“Hello?” A calm voice travels through the door.

It is.

You hurry to the side of the couch furthest from the door, crouching down behind it with a hand pressed to your mouth, eyes locked onto the door you’re absolutely not answering. Maybe she’ll think no one’s home?

“I know you’re in there.”

Shit. Of course she knows, the TV is still playing. You don’t know what to do. You look around, frantically. Is there anything you can use as a weapon? A magazine…an empty cup…a shoe…?

The door you’re certain was just locked—you locked it, both locks—slowly opens, revealing the lady from the porch miraculously standing in the doorway. She couldn’t have run here, her hair still falls perfectly around her face, not disheveled at all.

Her eyes find your crouched form barely protected by the couch. She tilts to the side, greeting you with a polite smile, “Hello there. May I come in?”

You stand up, fingers digging into the arm of the couch. “I didn’t see anything,” you hurry out, “Nothing at all. Please, I–I don’t want any trouble.”

She rights herself before letting her gaze make a round over your body, sizing you up. “You seem nervous,” she observes, “I’m sure a simple conversation can sort this all out.”

“You just want to...talk?” It can’t be that easy. These people, they’re—your mind flashes to the hand, only a hand, that washed up on the shore during your morning walk last week. They��re the type of people to do things like that.

“Yes,” she responds. Her expression remains placid, polite, and completely unreadable. You’re not certain her look would change if she decided to strangle you to death right now.

No, you’re not going to let it end like this, your own stupidity killing you. You will not be a hand on the beach, and you’ll do anything to avoid such a fate. And if it’s a conversation she wants, you’ll just have to make sure you don’t say the wrong thing.

“All right,” you say. “We can talk.”

She steps into the room and closes the door behind her. Then, she leans down to pick up the remote from your coffee table, pressing a button and clicking off the TV. Now it’s just you, her, and the roar of the waves below.

“Sit down,” she says, gesturing to your couch, like it’s hers to offer. Circling around the arm of the couch, you glance over to the window. It’s still open. The cliffside is steep, but if you jumped up on the couch and through the window–

She repeats herself, “Sit down,” and you do. Right, that’s the goal, to talk this out. Coming up with an escape plan would only worsen your stress, it’s easier to just do as she says and hopefully get this whole fuck-up of yours fixed.

The woman sits in the armchair perpendicular to the couch, staining it with the blood on her clothes...it's a lot more than what you could see from a distance and completely removes the possibility of cleaning the chair, you'll have to thrift another one.

She tilts her head, giving you a thin-lipped smile. “I’m Makima, head of the Public Safety Devil Hunter organization. I understand you’re a witness to my involvement in what’s happened up the street.”

You shake your head. “No, I didn’t see anything.”

Makima’s smile falters. “Don’t lie to me again.”

Your mouth goes dry. “Uh–okay. Sorry.”

The smile returns.

“You weren’t supposed to be home this evening,” she asserts.

You furrow your brows. How would she–? “Yeah, I–uh–switched my shift with a coworker. They had something come up last minute.”

“Ah, I see,” Makima says, steepling her fingers. “I hate last minute changes.”

You press your lips together and give an awkward nod. “Yeah.” You’re not sure whether this interaction is going well or not, and that’s not how you want to feel when your life's on the line.

“Well, I find myself in a difficult position.” Makima leans back in the chair. “What I should do is kill you. No one was supposed to see me tonight.”

You knew getting involved in anything related to that house would only bring trouble. Now it’s right here, sitting across from you. You almost break your promise, about to try to convince her that you saw nothing, when she continues:

“But, the standard solution isn’t always the most practical solution.”

“Right,” you add, like your opinion means anything.

She leans her weight onto the left side of the armchair, studying you. “I do love my job, making a difference in Japan and such, but it can be very taxing. Especially when dealing with the animals that were your neighbors.”

Your neighbors. It’s their blood on her clothes. You wonder why you don’t feel so bad about that. Or why you can’t take your eyes off of her, even if she’s soaked in blood. It must have something to do with this eerie pull she has—the more she talks, the more you want to listen.

“I do not get many opportunities to release this stress. Many of the men I work with," she sighs, "are insufficient."

"So," she continues, "instead of killing a pretty girl like you, I think there’s a way to resolve our situation favorably for both of us.” She uncrosses her legs. Your eyes flick down to her spread lap before jumping back up to hers.

“Um, I don’t know what you mean,” you respond, even if the unexpected pulse through your veins contradicts your words. Your body must be becoming confused, all the adrenaline and nerves—your quick breaths, pounding heart, dizziness—it’s beginning to be understood as arousal.

Makima hums. Then, her hands pull the black tie loose from her collar and go to the topmost button on her blouse.

“Wait, what are you–” The button is undone, and your protest fades away at the slightest glimpse of her collarbone. Suddenly, you don’t feel like interrupting anymore. Instead, you sit quietly and watch, transfixed, as each little button pops open in succession, revealing the milky skin and black lacy bra underneath. It’s fucked up that how attractive she looks while undressing from blood-splattered clothing. She shrugs off the shirt and it falls onto the back of the chair, the sight of her exposed torso making your stomach flip.

“Do you understand better now?” Makima asks, a coy lilt in her voice.

You let out a shaky breath, eyes roaming over the curves of her breasts and waist. Her body is heavenly, a miracle it ever landed on Earth. The Yakuza…the blood…it’s all slipping away as she emerges to the forefront of your mind.

“Take my pants off,” she commands, not even looking at you, rather, examining the black tie dripping between her fingers. Though moments ago you were frightened for your life, it’s without hesitation that you fall to your knees in front of her, your nervous hands working to undo the button on her black slacks. You’ve never felt like this before, a sudden desire so strong it’s overcoming your system, but, with a beautiful woman and her flushed face and lowered lids looking down at you, feeling this way is only what makes sense.

“There you go,” she says, helping you slide off the pants. A lacy thong that matches her bra skates high up over her hip bones, making a V that draws your eyes down to the warmth between her thighs. Now unhindered, her scent leaks into the air, and your eyes flutter as you inhale. It's intoxicating, seeping into your system and clouding your mind, making it harder to think, even to move, until Makima’s words cut through the haze. “It’s okay to touch.”

She reaches down and picks up your wrists, placing your hands on the curve of her waist. You shudder, she’s so soft. Your fingertips roam her torso, exploring the curves and dips of her body, sinking into the flesh that gives as you squeeze into it. Then your fingers travel down and hook underneath the straps of her underwear, lifting the fabric from her skin. The reveal of that small patch hidden by the black strings only feeds your desire more, it’s growing much larger than you can handle.

Makima smirks down at you. “Is there something you want to do?” She spreads her legs wider, gifting you more of her to look at.

No, you shouldn’t do anything, shouldn't even want to. Getting involved with her is a terrible idea. She's a murderer, she—Makima brings your fingers to the gusset of her underwear—she—she's so wet for you. Makima guides your christened fingertips to your lips and you swipe your tongue over them, drinking in the saccharine flavor. Those heavy thoughts are soon pushed from your head, leaving you only with your deep want to please.

“Wanna make you feel good,” you answer, looking up to her for permission, eyelids lowered in a desire-drunken state.

“So sweet,” she says, resting the side of her face on her hand, “You may.”

Relief overcomes your chest, so grateful that Makima would allow you to touch her in the way you so desperately want to. She’s so kind, so giving. It’s hard to remember why you were even scared in the first place, now your only fear is to be away from her touch, to live without the warmth her blazing gaze casts upon you.

Makima cants her hips up off the cushion of the chair so you can pull off her underwear by its strings, drinking in the way her wetness sticks to the fabric for a moment after separation. Your hands are on her thighs the moment you rid them of the underwear, fingertips squeezing into the plush flesh. You ease her knees open to get a full view of the dripping cunt before you, the sight of it as glorious as the scent.

You press a kiss to her inner thigh, and then another, but find yourself moving things along faster than usual. There’s a magnetic draw to her center, one that pulls you in between her thighs so before you know it your panting mouth is inches from her pulsing cunt.

“Go ahead,” Makima encourages, “You’ll be good for me, won’t you?”

You hum your affirmation, unable to fully process the question, too distracted by the desire spewing through your veins; it’s only intensifying, it needs to be acted on.

It’s the moment your tongue touches the sweet nectar dripping from her cunt that any remaining doubt, hesitation, or concern floating around your mind evaporates. The sensation is overpowering, the best thing you’ve ever had to grace your tastebuds, and you instinctively lap at her cunt again, hungry for more.

“So eager, aren’t we?” Makima teases as your hands land on her hips, locking your body in place as you drink in her fluids.

“Yes,” you slur, barely able to get the word out as you lick and suck. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, it’s making your body buzz, your brain drunk.

“That’s good,” she says, “I–ah–I needed this.”

Her praise sends dopamine flooding through your system—she likes that you’re doing this, it’s making her feel good. You like it so much that you’re making her feel good. It makes you feel so good. It’s all you could ever want. What else is there?

You moan into her thighs, wanting to touch between your own, but not daring to release yourself from the pleasure of touching her. It’s like her skin is seeping a toxin into yours, inspiring a reaction that you know you should push down but can’t, only able to sink your fingers deeper into the flesh of her hips, strengthening your body’s connection to hers as you swipe your tongue along her cunt. It’s so warm on your mouth, her folds soft and pliant as they welcome the tongue pushing through them that’s insistent on exploring every inch of her now that you’ve been granted access.

Makima’s hand lands on your head, running her fingers along your hair in slow, even strokes—petting you. Your hips twitch at her stimulation, oh how you love when she touches you.

“You’d make such a good pet,” she says.

Pet. You’d love to be her pet. Worry free, protected, loved. You could leave this whole situation behind you. It’s all you’ve ever wanted, and she could give it to you.

“Please,” you whimper into her warmth, “Make me yours.”

“You want to be my pet?” she repeats, her free hand closing in around the black tie still sitting in her palm.

“Yes,” you murmur, eyes glazed over. In this moment, it’s all you could ever dream about.

Makima grins and leans forward, wrapping her black tie around your neck, tying it, and pulling it tight. Then she sits back, and with a yank, returns you to the space between her legs with her makeshift leash.

“Then keep going, pet.”

You moan and eagerly return to your position between her thighs, eating her out messily, sloppily, like a goddamn animal.

Her fingers tighten in your hair and her head falls back against the back of the chair. “Fuck,” she moans, “That’s a good pet. Good–ah–pet, such a good pet.”

You want to keep being her good pet. Making her feel so good so her chest rises and falls rapidly with her short, uneven breathes and so she pulls at your hair like she is now. You don’t care about the pain—how unnaturally strong her grip is, how tightly her thighs are locked around your head, how the tie is chafing the skin of your neck. None of that matters. The pleasure of serving her outweighs all of it. You’ll give her what she wants, no matter the consequences.

And she only wants one thing right now. So you bury your face even deeper, bringing all your attention to her throbbing clit. Her hips jolt, lifting her aching hole up and you meet it with a finger that you push into her warmth. She clamps around you, pulling your finger into her. You just add another and she takes it too. Your lungs are burning—not having taken a breath yet—but you don’t care. You’d die here if it meant she’d cum. You’d die here if she merely asked you to.

With a low, long moan she seizes on your eager tongue, fingers tight around your leash as she pulls you by it into her deeper. You lick and suck as she cums all over your face, drenching you in her scent, her flavor. Claiming you.

You sit back on your heels, watching her, waiting for whatever she says next. A command follows, “Redress me.”

Like a good little pet, you do, pulling her underwear back up her legs, then her pants. Finally, her bloodied blouse.

“Your clothes are still dirty,” you say, “Do you want to wear mine?” Instinctively you go to pull your shirt up but Makima waves her hand.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Okay,” you say, “And your tie?” Your hands come up to your neck to untie it at her request.

Her eyes flick down to the fabric around your throat. “Keep it as a reminder of who you belong to.”

“I will,” you agree, hands coming back down from your neck. As you lower them, you notice some of the blood from her clothes has transferred over, staining your skin in uneven splotches.

When you look back up she’s halfway out the door. “No one needs to hear about our little encounter. Or anything at all regarding tonight, correct?”

“Of course not,” you respond. Not even torture would get you to betray Makima. You’re hers now.

“Good pet,” she rewards you. The door closes behind her and you walk into the kitchen to wash your hands.

There’s no reason to worry about the house at the end of the street anymore.

#makima #chainsaw man smut #chainsaw man makima #makima x reader #makima x you #makima lesbian #csm makima #chainsaw man #csm

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sukunasteeth · 5 months ago

Text

The Pleasure's All Mine - Chapter One

Based on this post from @winterrbluess

If Shibuya had a pulse, it would be at the rate of a hummingbird's wings.

The human race operates at a speed that oftentimes seems too quick to catch up with. It had been that way ever since you moved to the city for work about three years ago.

You came for a corporate job made up of ink black suits and pencil skirts, smiles that felt more on the side of uncanny valley than they did of genuine kindness, and handshakes from skin cold with carpal tunnel. You lived a corporate life. Everything is muted tones of tan and relies heavily on the concept of "modernizing". You wake up, go to work, go home, work on what you couldn't finish at the office, fall asleep on your colorless coffee table, and wake up to your alarm going off what feels like hours too soon. It was a cyclical cycle.

And the day you broke it, happened to be the day you met Sukuna.

You noticed the new shop on the end of the street maybe three weeks ago. It was so out of place, after all. The building was the only non-skyscraper to be seen on the block. It was a shriveled up little thing, built out of chipping brick that seemed to teeter on the edge of dilapidation from the inability to meet building codes. Overgrown ivy crawled up the sides of it and it still had plots of dirt in the front for planting as opposed to concrete and metal benches.

When you had first seen the For Sale sign a few months ago, you were sure they were going to tear it down and pave over it- happy to be rid of the only spot of character left in the business district. Then a new sign appeared over the door, one that looked hand carved out of wood and haphazardly painted over so that you could make out the words "Carnation King".

It’s funny, flowers had never been much of an interest to you. You had seen them as just another task to take care of when you returned home after a long day. Even filling a vase with water always sounded like more effort than it was worth. But as the days blend together from monotony, you find yourself desperate for color.

You changed your walking route to work so that you can pass by the shop everyday. You knew nothing about flowers. You could barely tell a rose bud apart from a tulip, but that didn't stop you from ogling at the new bouquets and potted plants that lined the sidewalk every time you passed them. Signs made out of toothpicks and painters tape said words like “Butterfly Ranunculus” and “Brown-Eyed Susan” and learning their names became one of your favorite things to do. You never stepped foot inside, and yet the flower shop was now one of your happy places.

You would meander by on your lunches and watch the butterflies play. You would walk by in the morning and smell freshly watered earth still hanging in the air. On your way home, when the sun was at its fullest shine, you would walk beneath the misters hung under the lip of the roof, and the coolness of the water droplets left behind on your skin saw you all the home.

You hadn’t realized how important the flower shop was to your daily routine until the day it was interrupted.

It happened to be one of the only days you had been forced by your workload to stay past sunset for overtime. You didn’t do it for the money, you did it because your boss had asked you nicely. But as you finally exit the office building for the night, you find yourself regretting staying so late.

You hated walking home in the dark. Even though Japan was notorious for its low crime rates, that didn't mean it was an innocent city. After 9pm, your street was notorious for being a ghost town. The only signs of life were the few work martyrs left in their floor to ceiling window offices- acting as makeshift streetlights. There were only a few lights on the way home, and their solidarity only seemed to pronounce the darkness along the rest of the empty roadside. When you were just an intern, before you got better hours and were finally promoted to the shining 9-5 that everyone dreams about, you used to take your heels off and sprint back to your apartment. Always weary of what you couldn’t see. At the time, you didn’t know that the scariest people don’t have to hide in the dark.

You hadn’t planned on walking past the shop that night. It was closed. It had to be. Normal flower shops closed well before 7 pm let alone 9. But the moment you touch the sidewalk outside your building, you see light glowing against the dense night.

The shop at the end of the street was draped in tiny fairy lights. Every square inch of brick was twinkling slowly, glimmering like resting fireflies. It looked almost otherworldly in comparison to the towering pitch black shadows of corporate offices surrounding it. In fact, the effect of the glowing lights against the mirror windows made it look like the shop was hanging in space.

Outside, the flowers you had walked past in the afternoon had been replaced with new pots, overflowing with buds you had never seen before. The usual delicate smell of Honeysuckle and Roses was now one of the sweetest scents you had ever experienced, so sweet, you could almost taste it on your tongue. Warm golden light floods out of the shop's window and the numerous white and yellow petals seem to gather and hold onto its dull shine.

You didn’t even realize you had completely abandoned your original plan of taking the shortcut home until you were standing in front of the Carnation King with your eyes entranced on the display before you. One flower in particular had caught your eye, a huge luscious display of delicate tow-colored petals, tall with endless growth and reaching towards the moonlight as though it’s been waiting all day to see it. You can’t help but reach out to touch, and yet just before your fingertips make it, you feel coolness trickling onto your hand, breaking the spell that the lights and colors had placed on you.

"Evening Primrose."

The suddenness of a voice beside you should have put you in fight or flight mode. It should have been a cold bucket of water to the face. Adrenaline spiking, you should be sprinting in the opposite direction. Instead, you found the tranquil trance that the flowers had put you in to have a lasting effect.

You blink at the man who seemed to appear out of thin air standing next to you, and the first thing you notice are his eyes. Such a dark shade of golden rich hazel-brown, they were nearly shining like two cuts of Cat’s-Eye. They gleamed suspicion.

He was much taller than you, but where most are lanky you can see strong muscles and broad shoulders. Collared sleeves rolled halfway up his arms revealed skin kissed rich and deep by prolonged sunshine. Tattoos slithered around his wrists and had made their way to his sculptured face, meticulously drawn black lines frame an annoyed expression. When you see the rest of him, you’re certainly not expecting to notice tufts from a head of true strawberry blond hair hang in his frigid gaze.

In one of his hands is a water can, still pouring trickling water onto your momentarily petrified fingertips, and in the other hand is a cigarette, only a third of the way lit.

The sight of him takes you so far back, if the sound of his voice wasn’t still echoing in your head you might not have remembered that he had even said anything to you.

"I'm sorry?" You pull your hand away from the water spray, drying it on your slacks.

The man takes half a drag of the cigarette before he answers you. Slow and unrushed. "They're called Evening Primrose.” He speaks through a cloud of tobacco smoke, glancing at the flowers that had caught your eye. His lip twitches slightly, "Need full sunlight but only bloom in moonlight. Fickle bastards."

Okay. Owner. Mean owner. Unexpectedly rough-and-tumble looking for being the caretaker of a flower shop. You glance at his apron, but you don’t find a name tag. He takes a step back while you’re searching for it, but he only moves far enough to start watering the next plant on the table.

You look back to the Evening Primrose, and even the smell of the burning cigarettes is nothing in the face of the scent that had pulled you in earlier. The two flavors mix like a tea garden on fire. You caress the petals once more, unthinkingly.

"They smell incredible." You mutter, mostly to yourself.

"Not them.” His voice is colder than his eyes. He flicks a bit of ash onto the cement behind him, and tilts his head in the direction of a different bush, one that’s even bigger than the healthy Primrose, with hundreds of tiny buds that flutter in the nighttime air. “That'd be her."

"”Her”?" You repeat, wondering if you heard the man correctly.

"Night Jasmine." He answers in return.

As standoffish as he was, you still found yourself making mental notes of the names he had given you. When you look at the Night Jasmine directly, it’s clear that the wind was sweeping that delicious smell straight from the direction of its honey-hued petals. You’re not sure you had seen plants like this at even the most expensive hotels and events that you had been invited to. Maybe tiny cuttings, but nothing to this size and level of lush.

"Well she's very pretty." You reply softly, letting out an airy laugh through your nose at his use of pronouns. The man doesn’t even crack a smile in return, his eyes giving you a pointed once over.

“And invasive.” He adds, resting his gaze on yours once again.

There’s a thick silence that follows after, during which you consider apologizing. For what? You were unsure, but somehow standing in his towering shadow and feeling his accusing eyes had you feeling like you were in the wrong for merely existing in his presence.

Before you can think to just turn around, take off your heels, and sprint home like you had years ago, his voice demands your attention again.

"So,” he says, “you gonna tell me why you’re stalking me, then?"

Now, surely, you were hearing things.

"E-Excuse me?"

He seems to take in your shock with some thought while he takes another languid puff, "You come by here every single day,” He lets the smoke go from his lungs, ”but you never buy a thing. In fact, you never even come in." The tone of his voice tilts towards annoyance. “You just stand at the window and pout like some sad puppy.”

"I-I work in the building next door?" You offer, bewildered by the entire situation. Were you dreaming? Had you fallen asleep at your desk and given yourself some sort of stress-induced nightmare?

"Hmm," The man takes you in without breaking your gaze, tilting his head to the side while he takes another drag of his cigarette. "You don't seem like the pencil pusher type to me."

You’re not sure why that comment makes you defensive. In retrospect, it was even a compliment to you. You hated sitting at a desk all day, watching the sun rise and set over a stack of papers. But you had worked hard to get to the position you were in now and it wasn’t the first time a man had told you that you didn’t look like you belonged. Before you can catch yourself in the name of politeness you find yourself scoffing out, "Sorry, but you don't seem like much of a florist to me."

The silence returns. You watch as the disdainful glint to his eyes shatters, and is replaced with a split second of surprise. He blinks and it’s only then that you realize how much larger this man is in comparison to you. If you had seen him walking down the street, you’d probably think to yourself “I wouldn’t want to be on his bad side” and yet here you were, on his bad-getting-worse side from the moment your eyes met.

Or so you had thought. But, as the antithesis of anger crosses his hardened features, and an unexpected bitten-back grin takes the place of his glower, you’re not sure what to think anymore.

He snorts out a laugh, finally releasing you from the cold grasp of his unbreakable gaze. He takes another step back and focuses his attention on watering the flowers again. "Touche."

The cigarette gets flicked from his fingertips and he smears it beneath his boot into a tiny canal of rocks separating the soil of the garden beds from the cement of the sidewalk.

"So, you gonna buy something then? Or just stand there with that strange look on your face all night?" He tilts his head to mirror your stance, but the amused grin remains in place of your confused gape. “I close in five minutes.”

“I have to hand it to you, you’re a fantastic salesman.” You’ve never met a stranger more brash and uncaring, so you were giving it a shot in return. It only serves to further his easy smiles.

“Am I not offering the right thing?” Now apparently after confirming to himself that you weren’t a threat, his tone of voice seems almost playful. It only serves to further your confusion. “Hmm, a lock of my hair maybe?”

“I am not a stalker!”

“Then buy something.”

You take a deep breath through your nose. Feeling the need to save face when you haven’t done anything wrong in the first place. Yet, the thought of turning away empty handed had embarrassment threatening to heat up your neck and cheeks. You didn't care if you had to drop a pretty penny, you just didn't want to boost this man's ego.

"Those." You point to the nearest flower, another pot of proud blossoms sprouting from a stem unseen past the abundant greenery of strong leaves. Soft moon colored petals unfurl at the top, and sprouting from the center are tiny, deep yellow pollen covered buds.

The man follows your pointed finger and graces your choice with all of one second before he turns back to his watering. "Not those." He decides flatly.

You’ve never made a more difficult purchase. "Why not?"

"Casablanca Lilies need constant care. A white-collar like you couldn't keep up. And I don't raise 'em so people can kill 'em."

"I think I can take care of a plant, thank you." You retort, sarcasm oozing off your sentence.

It seems you can only really catch this man’s attention when your tone has a touch of negativity, because suddenly he’s back to watching you.

There’s a pregnant pause before his next words. He searches nothing but your eyes for a moment, as if to gauge.

"Wanna bet?" He cocks a brow.

And it angers you how handsome you find this annoying, pompous, self-entitled stranger.

"Bet?” You repeat incredulously. “Are you making a sale or trying to fight?”

Instantly, as if you were offering the two scenarios as possible options, his smile darkens and he takes a step forward instead of continuing his line of watering.

That was all the reply you needed. You had seen the movies. The documentaries. Handsome men, provoking women, hungry eyes, it never added up to something good. So that was your que to keep walking straight past him and go home.

“Right, I don’t need this.” You scoff.

And yet, just before you're able to step aside him, like a true businessman, he says just the right thing to keep you there.

"So I'm right then?"

The sound of the droplets from the watering can against the cement in place of your footsteps has you cringing in self-disappointment. You force your head to turn and meet his infuriating amusement.

"What's the bet?" You grind out from clenched teeth. His eyes fall to your mouth, and he takes a pointed second to look at your bite before he steps away from you and back to the place where your interaction began. He reaches beside the huge Evening Primrose bush to reveal a small green potted sapling with the same leaf pattern.

He holds it out to you and you reach out to take the little thing like you’re scared for its safety.

"Come back in two weeks. If it's alive, I'll give you the lilies for free." The calmness in his tone of voice doesn't match the excitement glittering in his dark hazel-brown eyes. "And if it's dead, you owe me." He adds, rather nonchalantly.

"Owe you what?" You squint your eyes at him, maybe then you could see the little horns that match his devilish little grin.

He shrugs, almost too innocently, "A favor. Haven't thought of it yet." The stranger gives you one last once over, but this one leaves the strangest chill running down your spine. His eyes seem to follow it, as if he can see it rattling through you. "Should I? You're so confident you'll win, I didn't think I'd have to."

Now it was your turn to look him up and down, tattoos, scars and a face that seemed too comfortable with that murderous look he had first given you.

"...There's no way you're just a florist."

The comment is completely ignored as he leans forward, invading your airspace a little too close for comfort, and murmuring the words "Yes or no?" with a thick sugar coating.

"You're on." You hope your own words convey your complete disdain for him… and not that tiny glimmer of attraction you feel prickling under your skin.

A surprised laugh seems to escape him, as though he didn't expect you to make the deal. "You're either quite confident in yourself or a damn fool."

Like a rabbit bearing tiny teeth in the face of a lion, you mirror him and lean in closer until there's only a small space between the two of you. "Maybe I just like showing up cocky men."

"Oh, and I'm gonna love a favor from such a mouthy brat." You're lucky he pulls away from you after he practically purrs his threat. There's another thoughtful pause before he reaches into his apron pocket and pulls out his pack of cigarettes again.

"Two weeks. I know where you work too now." He lights another, and examines the cherry after he takes the first drag, smiling like it just told him a joke. “Don’t forget.”

#he loves a challenge #jjk #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #florist!sukuna #modern au #remember when i said halfway done like two thousand words ago?#I guess I lied #hope you enjoy #tuck in it's got chapters #thanks to winterrbluess who inspired this #her florist!sukuna art changed me #love the idea #this one is on a03 now if you're interested #missed you

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2thestars-andbeyond · 3 months ago

Text

Little Rabbit Part 2

This Is not well edited! But enjoy part 2. Hope you like it!

A knock on my door ripped me from my thoughts. I had confined myself to my room for the past three days, resting from my training with Rhysand.

The door burst open before I had a chance to get up from my seat in front of the large window in my room. Mor and Amren along with Nesta entered the room.

"We thought you were dead." Amren purred as she took a seat on my bed.

"Just inside." I said as I gave her a smile.

I told them of my accidental adventure to the Autumn Court. "It was so beautiful there." I told them and Mor scoffed.

"Honestly, you are lucky you made it out alive especially at the hands of Eris." Mor said and Nesta hummed in agreement.

I shrugged. "Eris was polite. And I'm lucky he found me instead of someone else." I shivered as I remembered how his hands had felt. Now isn't the time to start daydreaming about the Heir again.

"I know how charming Eris can be. But you can't let him get to you." Nesta said sternly. I rolled my eyes at her.

"So what's this I hear about a Masquerade ball? I over heard Rhys and Feyre talking about it this morning." Mor asked.

"Something to do with the Autumn Court. They got the invitation yesterday." Amren informed us.

"Of course it would be the Autumn Court." Mor groaned. "Looks like volunteering to baby sit Nyx that night."

How I got roped into dress shopping with my sisters for this Masquerade was beyond me. I think they may have bribed me with coffee from my favorite shop. But here I stood in the middle of the most elaborate dress shop in Velaris.

I hated shopping, even as a human. Nesta and Elain would always be the ones to pick out my dresses for these types of events. Always dressing me in purples and blues. Night Court colors. After looking at what seemed like a million dresses, a green dress caught my eye.

It was silk and the greenest green I've ever seen. The split may be a little too high for my liking, but it was beautiful. After trying it on, I knew it was the dress. I picked out gold jewelry to go with it. My last purchase was a mask. It had to be a rabbit. Full face gold one that only showed my lips and eyes, it was perfect.

"Are you sure you want to go with the green dress, Y/N?" Elain asked softly before we left the shop. "Shouldn't you wear A Night Court color? Purple always brings out the shade of your eyes."

"The dress is bold. I don't think I've seen you in anything like it." Feyre said.

"A color is a color. Plus, i've grown tired of always wearing the same shades of dark colors."

After buying our findings, or putting them on Rhysands tab, we arrived at the River House for Family dinner. It was always nice to have us all together. I walked into the large dinning room with Nyx on my hip.

"Momma" He cooed as I handed him off to Feyre.

Since my usual seat next to Azriel had been stolen by Elain, I took her usual one across from Feyre. Lucien entered the room awkwardly and took the seat to my right. He wasn't usually here for these meals, or meals at all, but he had been working with Rhysand on something that I wasn't allowed to know. Nothing new there.

I always feel bad for him having to be around his mate while she pines over another male. Though, he seems to handle it well enough. I'm sure the bond isn't as strong as it used to be.

Food appeared before us and everyone started to dig in. Nyx taking a spoon full of potatoes and chucking them towards Cassian was the highlight of the night thus far.

"You little-" He exclaimed as everyone scolded him before he finished the sentence.

"It's every time we have potatoes!." He says while taking his napkin and wiping them off his face. "I swear one of you is putting him up to it." Cassian points his fork accusingly at everyone at the table.

"We will leave tomorrow for the Autumn Court." Rhys says. "The ball starts after sunset."

"Y/N, Rhysand and I were talking and we both agree that it not safe for you to attend the ball." Feyre said, carefully.

"But I already have my dress and my mask."

Rhysand sighed, "Eris seemed to take too much of a liking to you, Y/N. I can't take the chance of something happening while we are there."

Choosing to be the better person, I replied with a simple, "Fine" that was laced with venom. And left to plan a way to attend the Masquerade Ball against my sister and High Lords wishes.

The next morning I had it all planned out. I had winnowed myself to the Autumn Court by myself before, so why couldn't I do it again? I ate breakfast and lunch in my room, hoping everyone thought I was too pissed off to eat with them.

I fixed my hair into a fancy up do not focusing too much on makeup. after applying a deep red color to my lips, I turned to my dress. Why was I doing this again? Going against my sister and more importantly Rhysand could get me in a lot of trouble. And what if I get caught? What if someone notices me? We all know how big of a busy body Azriel can be and his shadows tell him everything. Was my mask enough to hide behind?

Truthfully, I had to see him again. He has haunted my dreams and every thought since we met. I was going to that ball. Over grown bats be damned.

I stuffed a change of regular clothes into a bag that I planned on hiding behind the bar at Rita's, thanks to a friend. And from there I winnowed to the Autumn Court, hoping I wouldn't end up in the middle of the woods again.

Opening my eyes I found myself outside of the ball entrance. I sighed, relieved that I hadn't ended up in the forest again.

Upon entering the elaborate wooden doors, I took a drink I was offered. A drink that is only found in Autumn Court the small female said. I downed it, coughing at the strong cinnamon flavor. I gave her a small "Thank You" Before going deeper into the room. I hadn't paid any attention to what masks my family had bought to wear.

Something that did stand out in the crowd of masked Fae were wings. Two sets of them, and I was walking right into their path. I turned around quickly. Coming in contact with something solid. A person. Male. wearing an elaborate fox mask. I stood gaping at him like a scared rabbit that had been caught by a predator.

"Hello little rabbit" The male purred sending goosebumps through me. It was him. Cassians booming laugh came from behind me.

"Rhysand, I'm so glad you could make it." Eris greeted them.

"Thank you Eris, we were glad for the invitation, though I believe that Masquerades that have been thrown in the Night Court were a lot more, put together if you will." Rhysand took Feyres arm and led her to the dancefloor. None of them seemed to notice me.

"Care to dance?" Eris asked offering me his hand, I took it too eagerly. Causing him to chuckle.

The night went on as I stayed on the dance floor with Eris. We didn't talk just danced. Song after song played as he twirled me around the dance floor. Throughout the night I made share to keep up with each of my family members to ensure that I left before them. So I could be home when they got.

"Would you like a drink?" Eris asked. I nodded my head and we walked hand and hand to the drink table. He handed me a glass and motioned towards the balcony. The cold night air hit my over heated skin.

"So, little rabbit, are you enjoying yourself tonight?"

"I am" I replied scared to say too much. What if he remembered what my voice sounded like?

"You are a creature of very little words, hm?" He mused.

"It is a Masquerade ball, isn't the point of the whole night not knowing much about who you are dancing with?" I uttered and he hummed in agreement.

Eris faced me and placed his hand under my chin, lifting my face so that I met his gaze. "Do I know you from somewhere? Something about you seems so familiar."

"I- this is my first time in your Court." I lie.

Eris shakes his head "And you attend a ball by yourself?"

Panic takes over. He's going to figure me out. Just as I open my mouth, a couple catch my eye. Hidden on the other side of the large balcony, I pair of wings catch my eye. And then a female. Azriel and Elain. Kissing.

I let out a shocked noise which makes them pull apart from each other and they return to the dance. "Do you know them?" Eris asks.

"No- I." It was then that I noticed that I had lost sight of my family. I entered the ball room, they were no where to be seen.

"Little rabbit?" Eris grabs for my hand.

"I have to leave." I declare. Turning to walk out.

"But the night has just begun."

"I know. I just-"

"What? Have to get back home before you turn into pumpkin?" He jokes.

"No I just have to go. I bid you goodnight, Prince Eris." I turn to leave the movement so fast that my mask falls to the ground.

"Wait, Little rabbit you lost your-" was the last words I heard before winnowing back to Rita's.

@sunny1616 @rcarbo1 @jesskidding3 @bella-maria2018 @lilah-asteria

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra x oc #acotar x you #acotar #acotar x oc

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baelarys · 3 months ago

Text

𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖗

cregan stark x reader velaryon

Word count:2277

Warninig:Spontaneous abortion,angust.

You hated this place. Even when wrapped in countless layers and furs, the cold always found a way to seep through to you. It was a cold that not only chilled the bones but also the spirit, reminding you of how foreign you felt in this inhospitable land.

From the start, you had considered this marriage unnecessary. Lord Stark would have supported your mother’s cause without the need to wed you. At least, that’s what you believed. The Starks always honored their promises, or so you had heard in Dragonstone. You arrived in Winterfell with your brother Jacaerys, thinking it would be just another visit. However, that same night, before his return, the plans changed: your marriage to the Lord of the North was sealed, unexpectedly.

Fear consumed you. You didn’t want to marry, and certainly not him. The Lord of Winterfell was as cold as the landscape that surrounded him, distant and reserved. Although you now bore the title of Lady of this house, you knew that to the people of the North, you remained an outsider, someone who neither shared their blood nor their customs. The looks they gave you were not of respect but of mistrust.

You wondered if you could ever come to consider this place your home, but every gust of icy wind that struck the stone towers reminded you that you did not belong to this realm of shadows and ice. The Stark promises of loyalty may have been steadfast, but their hearts were as cold and distant as the winters that ruled these lands.

However, not everything was so bleak. Despite the discomfort of your new surroundings, you were far from the war and the conflicts that divided your family. In Winterfell, the echo of battles and internal struggles was silenced by the vast expanse of snow and mountains. Here, in the solitude of this fortress, you found a strange peace, a temporary respite from the intrigues that had always marked your life.

You walked from the courtyard, leaving behind the cold, gray walls, toward the gates of the fortress. Your feet sank into the snow, soft and frosted, as the wind swirled small flakes around you. In the distance, you spotted the imposing silhouette of your dragon, Sunset. Her wings, a coppery color that contrasted with the cloudy sky, stretched out majestically as she settled on the ground, her enormous body creating a temporary refuge from the cold.

At the sight of Sunset, a familiar warmth enveloped you. The dragon, with her majestic form and scales that seemed to glow like embers in the snow, was the closest thing to a reminder of home in this distant corner of the world. You approached slowly, and she, with a soft rumble, lowered her head toward you, awaiting the touch of your hand. The warmth of her scales against your skin and the hot breath she exhaled as she relaxed immediately comforted you, driving away the cold that had seeped into your bones since your arrival.

Suddenly, the crunch of snow under boots interrupted the peace of the moment, but you didn’t turn around. It wasn’t necessary; you knew only he would dare approach you and the imposing creature that had accompanied you since your youth. You expected him to come closer, but his steps halted as Sunset’s violet eyes fixed on his figure.

“Come closer, boy,” you said with a slight smile, barely tilting your head to glance at him. “She won’t eat you... unless I command her to.” Your words hung in the air, laced with a hint of challenge. You watched Cregan Stark, with his severe expression and indomitable presence, usually accompanied by the sword that rested in its sheath. Today, however, something about him seemed different. His hair, which he always wore tied back, fell loose over his shoulders, giving him a less restrained, more wild appearance, like the North itself.

His dark eyes remained fixed on the dragon’s, cautious but determined. He was not a man easily intimidated, not even by the mythical creature that posed a constant threat to anyone but you. Yet, in that moment, there was more than just respect in his gaze; there was an unspoken understanding of the power you shared with Sunset, a power he could not ignore.

“Do you not trust her?” you asked, your voice soft but firm, as you continued to stroke the dragon, feeling the powerful muscles beneath her scales relax under your hand.

Cregan kept his distance a moment longer before speaking, his deep voice resonating with the gravity of a man accustomed to the dangers of the North but still unable to fully comprehend the bond between rider and dragon. “I trust you,” he finally said, taking a step closer to you, though still with a cautious eye on Sunset. “But any man who approaches a beast like that would be a fool not to do so carefully.”

You smiled at his response, sensing that despite the cold façade Cregan Stark usually displayed, he wasn’t indifferent to you or to what you meant in his life.

“They're asking,” he suddenly blurted out, breaking the silence that surrounded you. His tone was grave, loaded with a tension that needed no further explanation. It took you a moment to realize who he was referring to.

“Oh... they already have Rickon, why do they insist so much on this?” you replied, your voice tinged with bitterness as your fingers continued to stroke the warm scales of Sunset. The simple act of caressing your dragon helped you contain the frustration you felt. “Do they really care that much about having dragon riders?”

Cregan remained silent for a moment before responding, his footsteps crunching in the snow as he slowly approached you. “Rickon is not yours,” he said, his words slow and measured, as if wanting to make sure you fully understood their implications.

You felt a pang in your chest upon hearing those words, though they were not new to you. Rickon, Cregan’s son, had been an important part of your days in Winterfell. Still, you knew that no matter how attached you had become to the boy, he was not your blood, and that fact was impossible to ignore.

“I know,” you responded with a hint of resignation in your voice. “But they think I’m not trying,” you added sincerely, lowering your hand from Sunset’s scales and starting to walk back toward the fortress.

The weight of your words hung in the air, much like the mist that enveloped the towers of Winterfell. With every step, the coldness of the stone and the northern wind seemed to tighten the knot of pain in your chest. The whole process had been painful, more than anyone outside of your situation could understand. You had lost three pregnancies, each one more devastating than the last. Some of those children had never seen the light, born deformed; others had barely survived a few hours, leaving in their departure a void difficult to fill. The bleeding, the unbearable pain, each loss had left an invisible scar that marked both your body and spirit.

Cregan walked a few steps behind you, silent, but his presence was palpable. There were things he could never fully understand, and though you had tried to keep him distant from your pain, you knew you couldn’t hide everything from him.

“They don’t see it,” you continued, stopping at the threshold before entering. “They don’t see how much it hurts. They don’t understand what it’s like to lose… over and over again.”

The cold wind seemed to remain outside as you crossed the door, but the weight in your chest was as present as ever. Cregan, walking beside you, appeared to be carefully considering his next words, as if knowing that any attempt at comfort could break the delicate calm you both shared.

“We could try again,” he suggested, his tone as practical as ever, as both of you entered the intimacy of your room. The fire crackled weakly in the fireplace, barely offering warmth compared to the tide of emotions bubbling within you.

You stopped abruptly, turning your back to him for a moment before facing him again, your eyes locking with his, defiant. “For what? So the next one can die or kill me?” The harshness in your voice surprised even you. It wasn’t just anger you felt; it was the weight of despair, of a constant struggle against something that seemed beyond your control.

Cregan held your gaze, his expression hardened but not unfeeling. “That’s not what I want,” he finally said, his voice low but firm, as if his intention was to pierce through the armor of pain you had built over time. “But I also can’t ignore that the North needs an heir, and everyone’s eyes are on us, waiting…”

“Waiting for me to give them a child,” you finished for him, your words bitter but real. You knew the burden of producing an heir weighed as much on you as it did on him. It wasn’t a matter of desire or affection; it was a political necessity, one that came with impossible responsibilities and expectations.

You turned toward the fireplace, staring at the flames for a moment, trying to find in the fire some kind of answer that wouldn’t come. “I’ve tried, Cregan. I’ve tried to the point of breaking. And each time, the result is the same.” You felt a lump form in your throat, but you swallowed it before continuing. “I don’t know if I can take any more.”

There was a long silence, interrupted only by the crackling of the fire and the sound of the wind outside. Cregan stepped closer to you, his presence firm but respectful. “I’m not asking you to break for them, not even for me. What I’m asking is that we think together, that we don’t make decisions out of fear or desperation.”

His words, though sensible, did not alleviate the weight you carried. But in his tone, you could perceive something more: a willingness not to let that burden crush you alone. Despite the circumstances that had brought you together, despite the emotional distance that sometimes imposed itself between you, there was an attempt, however clumsy, to share that load.

Still, the pain remained yours. And in that moment, you didn't know if you would be able to face another loss, another disappointment.

Cregan, as always, was pragmatic, but in his pragmatism, there was also a sort of acceptance. "If you decide that you don't want to try again, I'll understand," he said, and though his words were calm, there was a resolution in them that you recognized as genuine. "I just want whatever you choose to be because you want it, not because they demand it."

You carefully settled down next to Rickon, the little one absorbed in his game with the wooden figures representing wolves and other creatures of the forest. His tiny hands skillfully moved the animals, making the wolves howl in their own imaginary world. His hair, darker than Cregan's, was a striking contrast to the cold landscape of the North, and although you never knew his mother, you could guess that Rickon must have been the spitting image of her.

You adjusted yourself, resting your hands on your rounded belly. It had been five months since that conversation with Cregan when, after many sleepless nights and doubts, you decided to give the possibility of an heir another chance. This time, without the shadow of fear looming so large, though anxiety still lurked in the darker corners of your mind. Every movement, every sensation, was a reminder of both hope and risks.

The voice of one of your handmaidens pulled you from your thoughts. "My lady," she said softly, approaching with a parchment in hand, the unmistakable seal of House Umber presiding over the paper. You took it carefully, breaking the seal as Rickon continued to play by your side.

You unfolded the parchment, and a small smile appeared on your lips as you recognized Cregan's firm handwriting. He had set off north weeks ago, leading his men to confront the wildling raids that were disturbing the lands of House Umber. Winterfell had been strangely quiet without him. Though the fortress was never empty, his strong, unwavering presence had been missed. With each passing day, you had grown more accustomed to his company, to the silent security he offered.

His words on the parchment were concise, typical of a man like him, yet they contained enough details to assure you that he was well. The issues with the wildlings were being resolved, and while there were still some pockets of resistance, he expected to return soon. He also mentioned how the Umber, despite their stubborn and proud nature, had offered their hospitality, though it was clear he missed the tranquility of Winterfell and, less directly, your presence.

You lingered over the parchment a moment longer, stroking the edge of the paper with one hand while the other rested on your belly, where the life you had feared so much seemed to be developing normally this time.

Rickon, oblivious to everything, lifted one of his figures toward you. "Look, mother," he said, using the title that Cregan had taught him to call you for the past few months. Though it had surprised you at first, you soon realized it was a gesture as natural as it was necessary. Rickon had accepted you as family, and in that moment, as you held his father's letter, you felt that perhaps this cold and distant North could start to feel a little more like home.

You felt so happy to have him back, enjoying his warm hands and the long conversations you shared about your childhoods. The warmth of his presence filled the room, and every moment together felt like a gift after his absence.

As you quietly contemplated the dance of the flames in the fireplace, you felt his hands wrap around you tenderly. Your back rested softly against his chest, where the steady, comforting beat of his heart resonated. You could feel his warm breath brushing against your cheek, an intimacy that enveloped you and made you forget the cold outside.

His hands, now resting on your belly, left gentle caresses, as if he wanted to connect not only with your skin but with the life growing within you. That physical connection transformed into an emotional bond, a reminder of everything you both meant to each other.

Cregan leaned his head closer, whispering soft words that resonated in your heart. "I’ve missed you," he said sincerely, his voice enveloping.

"I’ve missed you too," you admitted, feeling how vulnerability mixed with joy. "Your absence has left a difficult void to fill." The words came from you with an honesty you hadn’t felt in a long time.

As the fire continued to illuminate the room, you both shared a moment that seemed to suspend time. In those moments, every caress, every whisper was a step toward building a shared life, one that embraced the hope of a future together, filled with love and the promise of a family that, one day, could become a reality.

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