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covenofagatha · 1 day ago

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A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 1)

@lanfear-is-my-darkmistress

You are a profiler for the FBI when you get called to help catch a serial killer in Westview. (Killing Eve/Hannibal AU)

Word count: 4200

Warnings: descriptions of violence, fear

The phone rings at 7:30 in the morning on your day off and you want to throw it against the wall.

You had been sleeping – having a very good dream, actually – when the harsh ringtone roughly jolts you out of your slumber.

“Hello?” you answer groggily, rubbing your face with your hand. If it’s a spam call, you think you might lose your mind.

“Is this Agent Y/L/N?” A gruff voice asks and you shoot up out of bed into the sitting position.

You clear your throat and try to sound professional. “Um, yes, this is she. Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Director Hayward,” the man says, and your eyes widen. The head of the FBI is calling you. “Have you heard of the town of Westview?”

Your forehead wrinkles while you rack your brain for anything that sounds familiar. “No, sir, I don’t think so.”

There’s muffled sounds from the other side of the phone and then you can hear Director Hayward clearly. “It’s a small town in New Jersey. Nothing special, nothing too out of the ordinary.” He pauses like you’re supposed to recognize it, but after a moment of silence he sighs and continues. “About seven months ago, we believe a pair of serial killers moved into town. Bodies started piling up, seemingly no rhyme or reason to who was killed, only that the victims were all female.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, trying to wrap your head around all this. If it’s been going on for this long, why haven’t you heard about it? “Are we sure they’re connected if there’s no pattern of victim? Usually men have a type when they do this kind of thing; the women usually look like an ex-lover who broke their heart, or their mom.”

You can practically hear him roll his eyes through the phone. “They were all killed the same way: poison to sedate them and then their hearts were carved out. And there was a purple azalea left in every single one of the victims’ chest cavities. So we’re pretty sure they’re connected.” Sarcasm drips copiously from his tone and you wince. Way to make a good first impression on the director of the FBI. “And it’s not a man. It’s a woman.”

This makes you perk up with interest. “Oh?” As a profiler for a branch of the FBI in Miami, you’ve handled your fair share of serial killers. It may make you sound insensitive, but you were only really interested in the female ones. Men were so boring and predictable. Women knew how to make it a challenge, and there was always some deep, underlying motive for why they did it. There was nothing you enjoyed more than piecing together that puzzle.

“They’re calling her The Witch. The poison used on the victims is like nothing we’ve ever seen before, so we think she must be making it herself. But since female serial killers are kind of your thing–”

You cut him off before you can think twice, thoughts whirling through your head. “How do you know it’s a woman? Cutting out a heart, that takes a lot of strength. Most female serial killers tend to use gentler methods, like poison, so it makes sense that there’s at least one woman involved. Are you sure she isn’t working with someone though? Lavinia Fisher would poison her victims and then her husband would finish the job.”

“How quickly can you get to Westview?” He asks, completely ignoring your question.

“Oh, you want me to go there?”

He scoffs. “Yes, Agent, we want you to go there. I’ve already informed your boss and he’s given his approval. No one has been better at catching the female killers than you, so we really need you on this. You can take the Miami jet as soon as you’re ready, but they want you there as soon as possible.”

“Will I be working with the Trenton branch?”

“Just the Westview PD for now. They’ve assured us that they have their best detectives on the case. But if you need backup, let us know and we can send in some more profilers. Whatever it takes to bring this woman to justice.” He hangs up without another word and you grab your to-go suitcase that you keep packed for times like these. You throw in a few extra sets of clothes just in case it takes longer than expected, and then you’re out the door, driving to Headquarters.

You walk into your boss’s office and knock on the door. The director of the Miami branch, Tony Stark, looks up at you. “Hope you packed some warm clothes,” he says and you chuckle. You definitely did not.

“Hayward said I could take the jet?”

Tony nods. “It’s out back and already fueled up. Good luck, kid. Be careful, okay?”

You scoff. “Careful? I’m always careful.” He fixes you with a stern look and you acquiesce. “I promise.”

“I don’t need to remind you what happened last time you worked on a case like this, do I?”

It hits you like a punch to the gut and you shake your head. “No, sir, you do not.” But you know he’s going to tell you anyway.

“That woman destroyed you,” he hisses. “You got so focused on finding her that you stopped eating and sleeping. The obsession completely consumed you.”

“I caught her, didn’t I?” You mutter, knowing full well that isn’t his point. He slams his hands down on his desk and you jump.

“She almost killed you,” he almost yells and your face twists at the memory.

The Scarlet Killer terrorized Miami about three years ago before you finally brought her down. At first, she would sneak into houses of families with twins and slit the parents’ throats and kidnap the kids, but the twins would always resist so she would end up killing them too.

After a while, she stopped caring about the twin aspect and started killing anyone with children.

You had spent days in the office, pacing and pouring over the evidence board, trying to make sense of it. There was no DNA anywhere, but there was also no sign of forced entry, so you figured that she was invited into the house somehow. The hunt for children made you think she had lost her own, or had some sort of abusive childhood that made her want to protect kids. She was possibly a twin as well, and very amicable if people were having her over willingly.

It took two months before you figured out the perimeter of her murders. She was making a hexagon shape with the houses of the victims. Hexagons can represent balance, so you figured she felt as if she was balancing out some score with the universe for something that had happened to her.

And then one fateful night, you realized where her next target was. A family had just moved into a house perfectly on the border of the hex, as people around the office started calling it, and they had twins.

You spent almost an entire week camped out in front of their house waiting for the Scarlet Killer to strike. You think during that time, you slept a total of ten hours. Hallucinations plagued you and you would doze off and then wake up babbling something about catching her. Agents would bring food by your car and beg you to take a break, but you kept your eyes strained on the house, determined that you wouldn’t let her get away with it again, determined to prove that you were right about where she’d be.

And you were.

Except the knocking that should’ve been on the front door of the house, the knocking that would inevitably lead to more death, was on your car window.

You had jolted awake to find a redheaded woman standing there, looking worried. You opened the door and got out to help her when she had pulled a knife out and stabbed you in the stomach.

Thank god she didn’t go for her usual M.O. of slitting throats.

You were able to weakly unholster your gun and take a shot at her as she was running away and by the yelp, you knew you had hit her. A consolation prize as your vision faded to black.

Somehow, you woke up two days later in a hospital room, Director Tony Stark by your bedside. They had caught the killer a block away thanks to the appendix your bullet had ruptured that rendered her unconscious, a woman named Wanda Maximoff, who had lost her twins in a horrible house fire, and made it a mission to try and replace them.

And her knife had missed anything important, and all you had was a nasty scar and the weariness from everyone else whenever there was a new female serial killer to catch.

“She didn’t kill me though,” you tell Tony, who rolls his eyes. “I’ll be careful. I won’t get too involved this time.”

He slides open a drawer and takes out a file and a business card that he holds out to you. You reach across the desk to grab the two and you scan the card.

Rio Vidal, Therapist, Westview. With an email and phone number.

You hold it up and raise an eyebrow. “You want me to see a shrink?” You already completed your mandated fifteen hours of therapy after the Maximoff incident and you weren’t eager to go back.

“You don’t have to, it’s just so you have an option. In case you feel yourself becoming too ‘involved.’”

You purse your lips but you slip it into your pocket and tighten your grip on the file. “Guess I’ll see you whenever we catch her.”

He salutes you and you make your way to the jet out back.

It’s a three hour flight and you spend your entire time pouring over the case file. You know there’s still some information that you’ll have to get from the Westview PD, like witness statements and exclusive photos that haven’t been released yet, but what you do have is brutal.

Photos of shriveled up bodies with barely any skin still on their bones, their cheeks hollowed out, like something sucked the life out of them. Not to be sexist, but you can tell why Director Hayward thought it was a woman.

Although there’s a gaping hole in their chests where a heart used to be, the cuts are neat, precise. And the blood has been completely cleaned up. What should be the bloodiest crime scene you’ve ever seen is void of any fluid, like the killer methodically mopped and bleached and cleansed the scene of everything. But this also means that the victims are dead before the heart is cut out, from the poison.

The most chilling thing is the singular, perfect flower placed in the cavity of their chest.

You flip through the toxicology reports but can’t really make sense of anything. One report says one chemical was the cause of death, another report says another. The levels of chemicals in the bloodstream are also different from victim to victim.

It reminds you of Jolly Jane Toppan, who would experiment with different medicines and chemicals to murder patients at hospitals.

Is the killer a nurse? A chemist? You’re able to figure out why she’s called The Witch, because it’s like she’s brewing up potions of sorts, but you have no idea why she would bother cutting their hearts out if she’s killing them with poison.

The precision of the blade also means that her hands are steady. Another reason she could be a nurse.

You flip through the pictures of all the victims – eleven, so far – and the first victim’s cut is just as accurate as the last victim. This woman is either a natural, or this isn’t the first time she’s killed.

Pulling out your computer, you search the database for any serial killer cases that match this same type of crime, male or female. You’re still not entirely convinced she’s working alone.

But there’s nothing. No cold cases, no open cases. She has truly shown up out of nowhere.

You tap your fingers to the tray table, your mind trying to make sense of the details for the rest of the flight.

When the plane lands, you’re ushered into an uber and taken to the motel where you’ll be staying. Your rental car is already in the parking lot. Even though Westview is a small town, it means a lot that they’re giving you all these accommodations.

Your room is complete with a kitchenette, a queen sized bed, and a good sized bathroom. You drop the files on the table, throw your suitcase in the bedroom, and grab your work bag before locking the door behind you.

The rental car is a small sedan that has a strange smell, but it does the job and you drive through the quaint twisting roads to get to the police station. You park up front, take a deep breath, and walk in.

No one stops you or asks what you’re doing here (no wonder this case hasn’t been solved yet) so you make your way to the back where you find the Chief’s office.

He’s a skinny man with a mustache, spots of something that looks like mustard on his shirt, talking to a woman with her back to you. All you can tell is that she has long, dark hair that flows down your back.

“Hi, excuse me?” You say, knocking on the glass door. The Chief stops and the woman turns around to face you and you’re momentarily struck by how attractive she is. “I’m Agent Y/N? The, uh, criminal profiler from Miami? The FBI sent me to help with The Witch case.”

“Oh, shoot, that’s right,” the man says, wiping his hands on his jacket before standing up. “Chief Phil Jones. This is Detective Agatha Harkness–” He motions to the woman standing there who smiles knowingly, raking her eyes up and down your body. “– our best. She’s been working this case day and night.”

“Any leads so far?” You ask her.

“Why don’t I show you what we have so far?” She offers and you nod, following her out of the office and trying not to look at her ass. She takes you into a different room with a bulletin board filled with pictures and string and post-it notes. You squint at it, trying to take everything in, while you hear more people enter the room behind you.

“So, Miami, what do you think?” A man taunts and a few others snicker at him. You ignore him, you’ve been used to this your entire career.

You’re still scanning the board when something catches your eye. The witness statements. They don’t corroborate with each other. From the six people that have seen something, they all agree that the killer had dark hair. But some say it was long, others say just past her shoulders. Some think she was taller and lean, others say shorter and just a little more filled out. There’s a detail from two witnesses that gives you pause though: they say the woman had a mask of sorts on the bottom of her face, almost like a skeleton. The other witnesses make no mention of not being able to see the killer’s entire face.

You tap the papers. “Why don’t the statements line up?”

“Surely you know how unreliable eyewitness testimony is,” Agatha drawls, and when you turn around, she’s watching you carefully.

You frown. “I do know, but it seems like there’s two different people here. So either we have a copycat, which would be unlikely due to there being no change in the level of detailedness from murder to murder, or–” You trail off, chewing on your lip. You’re waiting for someone, Agatha maybe, to finish the sentence, or to tell you you’re being crazy.

“Or?” She prompts like she’s daring you to go on. There’s a look in her eyes, a look you don’t quite recognize.

You give the men in the room a glance. Will they laugh? “I really think we’re dealing with two killers here. Working together. One poisons the victims, the other cuts out the heart. I thought it was a man and a woman, but it seems like two women. They’re obviously very close to each other, and they’ve got it down to an easy routine.”

“Why hasn’t anyone seen two women then?” Agatha asks, but you feel like she’s just guiding you to a realization, rather than criticizing your theory.

You hum, tossing the question around in your head. “Maybe…maybe because they want us to think there’s only one killer? They’ve fooled everyone, even the FBI. Easy to chalk it up to faulty witness statements.”

“Why wouldn’t they try to look alike then?” Agatha presses, and your brow furrows. It’s a good point.

The pictures of the mutilated victims on the board stare back at you while you look for anything you could’ve missed. “Are they toying with us? Do they want us confused? The poison, the cut-out heart, the flower left behind, the different descriptions, it’s like this is a game to them. They’re cocky, they feel confident that they can’t get caught. Maybe both of them are narcissists, but definitely are on the Antisocial Personality Disorder spectrum.”

“Why do you think they do it?” Agatha says in a hushed voice. You can’t help but notice that she seems excited.

Is that because she finally might be getting a break in her case?

“I don’t know,” you admit and she looks disappointed. You spin to face the board again. “There’s no obvious connection or pattern between the victims, so it doesn’t seem like there’s a personal vendetta against them. Nothing stands out about the locations either. It seems like they’re just killing for fun, right now.”

“That’s pretty dangerous,” she says, and you can feel the front of her body brush against your back. You’ve been so entranced that you didn’t even hear her notice her coming over. “That means anyone could be next.”

Goosebumps spread over your body at her hot breath on your neck, but her words sober you up. She’s right. You’re not able to rule out potential victims based on how many kids they have or don’t have, like with Wanda, or what they look like or don’t look like.

“Okay,” you say, nodding your head. “We need to send out a BOLO for two women with dark hair now. Put these descriptions out, tell them to keep an eye out for a skeleton mask? Hopefully we can get some tips and put a stop to this before anyone else gets hurt.”

“What should we call the other woman?” One of the male officers speaks up and you’re surprised that it’s an actual question.

Agatha watches you with interest while you think about it. “How about…Lady Death?” You offer and she gives a nod of approval. “Put a BOLO out for Lady Death and The Witch.”

You make copies of everything that’s on the board and paper clip them together to put in your bag. As you’re packing everything up to go back and leave to the motel (Tony would be proud of you for leaving the station at an acceptable time), Agatha comes over and leans on the table.

“What do you think their relationship is? Lady Death and The Witch,” she says, amusement lacing her tone when she says their nicknames.

You shrug. “Sisters, friends, wives? Maybe they’re just two crazy people who met each other and want to kill people.” She chuckles and studies you curiously.

“You know, we’ve had some other profilers come in, but none of them have been like you. You know your stuff.”

“Female serial killers are kind of my thing,” you say. “There’s just something about untangling the mystery that’s so much sweeter. Makes me feel…alive. Which I know sounds bad, because so many people have died, and I’m sorry.”

Agatha looks like she knows exactly what you’re talking about. “No, don’t apologize. It’s exciting, isn’t it? The exhilaration, the moment when you finally get what you want, what you’ve been working toward.” Her voice is low and you nod, leaning in before you can realize what you’re doing. Your gaze drops down to her smirk and then back to her blown-out pupils. “Do you think you’ll be able to find them?”

“Yeah, I do,” you breathe, and she looks positively delighted. Out of nowhere, the scar on your stomach stings and you grimace. Agatha looks at you, concerned but you brush it off. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You ask, standing up and slinging your bag onto your shoulder.

“See you then, superstar,” she says with a grin and watches you leave.

When you get back to the motel, you spread all the pictures and notes out, trying to connect some dots. You scribble down Friends? Sisters? Lovers? on a sticky note and press it to the wall.

Why do you think they do it? Agatha’s question still haunts you. You don’t want to believe that it’s just for fun, there has to be some meaning, some motive for poisoning and then physically removing hearts. There has to be some significance to the flower left behind.

But what is it?

Your stomach grumbles so you decide to take a step back and go pick up food from a restaurant in town. As you’re pulling out of the parking lot to come back to the motel with wings and french fries, you get a call from Tony Stark. You accept it, taking a sip from your cup quickly.

“Hey, Director,” you say.

“There she is! How’s it going?”

You shrug even though he can’t see you. “Not too bad. Just went and got dinner. See, I’m taking care of myself.”

He laughs like it’s the funniest joke he’s heard. “Glad to hear it. Any new leads in the case?”

“There’s two women, not one. They’re working together.” There’s silence on his end of the line for a second and you wonder if he heard you. “Did you–?

“Yeah, I got that. Shit, so you think you’re looking for partners? I don’t like this,” he says.

“I’m okay, I promise. What happened with Wanda won’t happen this time,” you reassure him as you turn back into the motel lot. “I’ll check in with you whenever you want. I’ll go see that shrink. I’ll be careful.” You’re worried that he’ll pull you off the case if he thinks you’re too obsessed. Your hyperfixation tendencies almost cost you your life, and you know Tony doesn’t want that to happen to you again. He’s become somewhat of a father figure to you since you started working there, and it’s touching how much he cares.

He hums in satisfaction. “I expect you to eat three meals a day and get at least five hours of sleep.” Before you can protest, he continues. “And I want you to make an appointment with that therapist. Just get ahead of your spiral, maybe talking about the case with someone removed will help you be more level-headed.”

“I will,” you vow. “Okay, just got back to the motel, I’ll talk to you later.” He says goodbye and hangs up. When you get out of the car with your food, the hair on the back of your neck stands up and your scar tingles.

Something feels off.

You get to your door to find it slightly ajar and you frown. You remember locking it. Maybe room service cleans at night?

“Hello?” You call, pushing it open. Taking a few cautious steps into the room, you scan from wall to wall looking for anything or anyone.

There’s no one there, nothing seems out of place except for your suitcase that is now on your bed. You tentatively walk over to it and unzip it, jumping back like you’re expecting something to pop out. Inside, you find all the clothes you packed gone, and entirely replaced by a new wardrobe. Pulling them out, you gasp when you find cashmere sweaters and silky blouses and comfortable but professional looking pants. There’s a bottle of perfume with the word “Thanatos” printed in perfect calligraphy and you take a whiff. It smells like flowers and wood at the same time and it makes you think of a forest.

So someone broke into your motel room just to give you some new clothes and perfume? You rustle through the rest of the suitcase and a piece of paper flutters to the floor.

Heart pounding, you lean down to pick it up. It’s the same sticky note that you put on your wall before you left to get food.

Friends? Sisters? Lovers?

Only now, the word ‘lovers’ is circled, with a small heart drawn. You drop the paper like you’ve been burned and run over to where all your case information is and you feel nauseous.

Nothing has been touched. Nothing is out of place.

Except for the single purple azalea resting on the middle of the table.

They were here.

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha x you #agatha all along #agatha x rio #agathario x reader #agathario #rio vidal x reader #rio x reader #rio vidal x agatha harkness

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roturo · 3 days ago

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Gojo Satoru who's beginning to fall in love with his sugar baby!

read pt 1 and pt2, before continuing.

Gojo stood outside your door, the weight of every choice he'd made— or refused to make— pressing down on him. He should walk away. That's what he'd always done when things got too real, too messy. But tonight, he couldn't. Not when the thought of someone else touching you, knowing you the way he did, was driving him to the brink.

He raised his hand to knock, but before he could, the sound of muffled voices reached him. His breath hitched when he heard it: a man's voice. Deep, unfamiliar, and entirely too close to you.

His knuckles hit the door harder than intended. Once. Twice. A warning knock, sharp and unrelenting.

When you answered, you were startled, your eyes widening slightly before narrowing in frustration. You stepped into the doorway, just enough to block his view of the inside.

"Satoru," you said, your tone clipped. "What are you doing here?"

His gaze swept over you, lingering on the slight flush in your cheeks and the way your hair was a little out of place. He noticed the faint hum of music in the background, and it made his stomach churn.

"Who is he?" Gojo asked, his voice cold, biting.

You blinked, your expression hardening.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play dumb," he snapped, his eyes narrowing. "I heard him."

You crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe. "That's none of your business."

Gojo laughed, a low, humorless sound.

"None of my business? That's funny, coming from someone who let me fuck them like they meant something just a few weeks ago."

You flinched, but you didn't back down. "And whose fault is that, Satoru? You're the one who made it clear this wasn't real. You said it yourself-no strings, no feelings. So why do you care now?"

"I don't," he said quickly, too quickly. His jaw tightened, and he shoved his hands into his pockets, his voice dropping. "I just didn't think you'd move on so fast."

Your eyes flashed with anger. "Move on?

God, you're unbelievable." You stepped forward, poking a finger into his chest. "You don't want me, but you can't stand the idea of someone else wanting me either. Do you even hear yourself?" You know you’re repeating yourself, he always knew there was danger in the heat of your touch.

Before he could answer, the sound of footsteps approached, and Gojo's entire body went rigid. The other man appeared behind you, his figure tall and broad, his expression casual but watchful as his hand rested lightly on your shoulder.

Gojo's eyes locked on the man's hand, and something inside him snapped. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, his voice dripping with venom. "This guy?"

"This guy has a name," you said, your voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Leo. And unlike you, he actually knows how to show up."

Gojo laughed again, this time louder, harsher.

"Show up? That's your bar? Someone who shows up? Congratulations, sweetheart, you've really hit the jackpot."

"Stop it," you hissed, stepping between them. "You don't get to do this, Satoru. You don't get to come here, throw a tantrum, and act like you care. Because if you cared, you would've been here weeks ago."

"Maybe I didn't think you'd be so quick to spread your legs for someone else," he shot back, his voice low and sharp.

The slap came before you even realized you'd raised your hand. The sound echoed in the small space, and Gojo's head snapped to the side, his cheek stinging from the force.

"Get out," you said, your voice trembling with rage and something far more fragile. "Go home, Satoru. Wherever the hell that is. Just... leave me alone."

For a moment, he didn't move. He stared at you, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and something far more vulnerable. Then his gaze shifted to Leo, who stood silently behind you, his presence steady in a way Gojo's never was.

Gojo's lips curled into a bitter smirk. "Fine," he said, stepping back. "Have fun with your rebound." His words were laced with venom, but his voice cracked just enough to betray him.

He turned and walked away, the sound of the door slamming behind him echoing in his chest. As he disappeared into the night, he realized that for the first time in his life, he'd lost something he couldn't get back.

And it was his own damn fault. He saw forever so he smashed it up.

Gojo didn't go far. He stopped at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall with a hand buried in his hair. His mind was a mess, replaying the slap, the way your voice cracked, the sight of another man standing behind you like he had any right to be there.

The image burned in his chest, feeding the fire of his jealousy until it was an inferno. He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't have cared. But he did. And that was the problem.

As much as he wanted to walk away and let pride win, his feet wouldn't move. Instead, he found himself circling back, hovering near your door like a ghost, the muffled sound of your laughter with Leo scraping against his nerves like broken glass.

He didn't knock this time. Instead, he pressed his ear to the door, straining to hear the words exchanged between you.

"Leo," your voice came softly, the warmth in it like a knife to Gojo's gut. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't expect him to-"

"It's fine," Leo said, his tone calm, reassuring. "Do you want me to stay? Just in case?"

Gojo's jaw clenched so hard it hurt. He could picture it-Leo staying the night, slipping into your bed, touching you like he belonged there. It was unbearable.

His hand hovered over the doorknob, the shared key in his pocket burning like a brand. He shouldn't. He couldn't. But before he could stop himself, the door creaked open.

The room went silent.

You turned first, eyes wide in disbelief as Gojo stepped inside, his figure towering, his presence suffocating. Leo stood beside the couch, his posture tensing as Gojo's icy blue eyes flicked to him, then back to you.

"What the hell are you doing?" you demanded, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and disbelief.

"Didn't realize we were locking doors now," Gojo said coolly, his gaze settling on Leo. "I thought I still had a key."

Leo raised an eyebrow, his expression unbothered but his stance steady. "You need to leave man. You're not welcome here."

Gojo ignored him, his attention fixed solely on you. "Is this really what you want?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm. "A guy who'll just stand here while someone else walks into his girl's apartment?"

Your mouth fell open in shock, anger flashing in your eyes. "Don't you dare call me your girl. You lost the right to say that the second you decided I wasn't enough for you."

Something in Gojo's expression cracked, the cool facade slipping for a moment. "You were always enough," he said, his voice low.

"That's the problem."

The words hung heavy in the air, and for a split second, the tension shifted. His vulnerability shone through, raw and unfiltered, and you could see it—the part of him he always hid, the part that hurt just as much as you did.

But Leo stepped forward, his hand on your arm. "You don't have to listen to this," he said softly, his presence grounding you.

Gojo's gaze dropped to where Leo touched you, his fists clenching at his sides. "Get your hand off her," he said, his voice low and dangerous— this dude clearly didn’t know a shit about him.

The dopamine races through his brain, his hand so calloused from his power, his eyes softly trace hearts on you face behind the black obscure glasses— and you could see it from a mile away, it’s a perfect case for your certain skill set.

He had a halo of the highest grade, "Or what?" Leo challenged, his calm exterior finally cracking.

You stepped between them, your hands outstretched. "Stop.” you shouted, your voice breaking. "Both of you, just stop"

Gojo froze, his chest heaving with barely contained rage. His eyes locked on yours, and for the first time, he looked small. Lost.

"You don't want him," he said, his voice soft but urgent, like a plea. "You don't. He can't give you what I can."

"And what's that?" you shot back, tears brimming in your eyes. "More pain? More nights wondering where you are, who you're with? I'm done, Satoru. I'm done waiting for you to figure out how to care about me."

"You think I don't care?" he asked, stepping closer, his voice trembling. "You think I don't hate myself for every second I spent away from you? For every time I chose someone else over you because I was too scared of What you meant to me?"

Your breath hitched, the tears spilling over now. "Then why didn't you stay?"

Gojo stood there, his knuckles white as they clenched into fists. The heat of your words— the finality in them-wrapped around his chest like a vice. He was losing you, and the worst part? He knew it was his fault.

"You think I didn't want to stay?" he asked, his voice low and bitter. "I wanted to, but I-" He cut himself off, his gaze darting to Leo like he couldn't bear to finish the thought with him in the room.

"You what, Satoru?" you demanded, stepping closer, your voice trembling with raw emotion. "You wanted to, but you chose not to. Every. single. time."

The sound of your voice triggered a memory, one he couldn't push away.

"Say it," you'd whispered, your breath warm against his neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he pinned you beneath him on your bed, your bodies tangled in the sheets. "Tell me I mean something to you."

Gojo's laugh had been low and soft, almost tender. "You're trouble, that's what you are," he'd said, brushing his lips against your collarbone. But he hadn't answered—not the way you wanted him to. Instead, he'd kissed you, slow and deep, swallowing the words he couldn't say.

He shook his head, forcing himself back to the present. "You don't get it," he said, his voice cracking. "I wasn't enough for you. I'm still not. You deserve someone better than me."

"You don't get to decide that," you snapped, your voice shaking with fury. "You don't get to break me and then act like it's for my own good."

The weight of your words hit him like a punch, but he didn't back down. "I was protecting you!" he shouted, his frustration spilling over.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head.

"Protecting me? Is that what you call it?” You know you can handle a dangerous man. “Leaving me alone in bed while you text other women? Making me feel like I was just another name on your list?"

You'd been straddling him on the couch, the glow of the city lights filtering through the windows. His hands gripped your waist, his lips devouring yours like he was starving. "You're addictive," he'd murmured, his voice husky. "You're going to ruin me."

"Then let me," you'd whispered back, your forehead resting against his. For a moment, his eyes had softened, his walls crumbling just enough for you to see the man underneath the bravado. But by morning, he was gone, leaving only a note and the faint scent of his cologne.

"I never wanted to hurt you," Gojo said now, his voice softer, like he was trying to reach the part of you that still might care. "But I didn't know how to keep you without losing myself."

You swallowed hard, the rawness in his voice tugging at something deep inside you. But before you could respond, Leo stepped forward, placing a hand on your back. The touch was steady, grounding, and it pulled you back to the present with a disgust, not because of the memory, but because it wasn’t the touch you desired.

"She doesn't need this, man," Leo said, his voice calm but firm. "You've done enough."

Gojo's eyes snapped to Leo, his anger flaring again. "And what exactly do you think you are to her?" he asked, his tone sharp and biting. "Some knight in shining armor? You don't know her like I do."

"Don't hide from me," he'd said one night, his fingers trailing down your bare spine as you lay together in the dark. "You're beautiful, and you don't even see it. It drives me insane." His lips had brushed against your shoulder, his breath warm as he whispered, "Let me show you."

And he had-slowly, reverently-his hands mapping every inch of your body like he was memorizing you. In those moments, he'd been yours entirely. But they never lasted.

"She's not yours anymore," Leo said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "And maybe she never was."

He looked at you, his eyes pleading. "Tell him he's wrong," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tell him it wasn't all fake. That it wasn't just some... convenience."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn't come. Because it hadn't been fake-not for you. But how could you say that now, when he'd already torn you apart?

Gojo stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "Do you remember that night at the lookout?" he asked, his voice desperate now. "When you told me you'd never felt that way about anyone else? You meant it. I know you did." Handcuffed to the spell you were under, for just one hour of sunshine.

You'd been sitting on the hood of his car, the city lights stretching out below you.

He'd stood between your legs, his hands on either side of your face, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "You're dangerous," he'd said, his voice low. "You make me want things I shouldn't want."

Months of labor, locks and ceilings— In the shade of how he was feeling..

"Like what?" you'd asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Like keeping you," he'd replied, his forehead resting against yours. "Like staying."

You took a shaky breath, your eyes meeting his. "I can't do this anymore, Satoru," you said, your voice breaking. "I can't keep hoping you'll stay when you never do."

Gojo's face crumpled, his mask shattering completely. He reached for you, but Leo stepped between you, his stance protective.

"She said enough," Leo said firmly. "It's time for you to leave."

For a moment, Gojo looked like he might fight back, his hands trembling at his sides.

But then he took a step back, his shoulders slumping.

"This isn't over," he said, his voice hoarse.

"I'll prove to you that I can be better. That I can be what you want.”

#gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #jjk #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo satoru fic #gojo x reader smut #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen angst #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru jjk #jjk scenarios

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kentogetsmewetter · 2 days ago

Text

Pookies Requiem

⋆｡°✩Genre: ony x black reader smut with plot

⋆｡°✩Synopsis: inspired by the song pookies requiem by salorr in which three months after you guys broke up you see ony with a new girl and she looks and moves similarly to you. You feel like he's being disrespectful to you showing her off kissing her in front of you, and it all boils over from there.

⋆｡°✩Contents: oral(fem reciving), fingering, sex(p n v ), overstimulation, pet names, praise, they r lowk toxic, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasams

You haven't seen onyankopon in a little over three months since you guys had your breakup. It was a somewhat mutual breakup. You felt like you had to because you just weren't in the right mental space to be in a relationship at that point, and he felt like he had to, to give you that space to clear your head. He really didn't want to breakup he did it cause he cared for you is what he said but you didn't forget how he would never want to show you off in public dropping your hand when you went into stores never posting you, so you were just done with that whole thing.

So when the first time you see him in three months, you see him sitting across from you with his "girl" on his lap. You were extremely confused and felt disrespected. He sat across from you, leaning back onto the couch, His legs were spread wide, in his right hand, he held a half-burned blunt, the faint curl of smoke rising between his fingers. His other arm was wrapped possessively around her waist, his fingers playing with the hem of her skirt. She leaned into him, her gaze flickering between his face and the room, her lips curving into a soft smile you wanted to rip off her face.

She was pretty, you couldn't lie, her deep brown skin glowing under the dim lighting, Long bohemian braids flowing down her back, reaching all the way to her waist. She wore a snug, cropped baby tee that clung to her figure, revealing just a hint of toned midriff paired with a sleek black mini skirt that hightled her long legs. The fit was completed with knee-high boots that hugged her calves, their glossy finish reflecting the ambient light.

What caught your attention most, though, was her face it was uncanny. Her features eerily mirrored your own, almost as if it was on purpose. The sharp arch of her brows, the perfectly blended makeup that highlighted her almond-shaped eyes, and even the gloss coating her full lips all felt strangely familiar.

Her style, too, seemed like a deliberate copy of your own, she was clearly biting off your look, from the way her braids framed her face to the outfit she had on the way her makeup was styled the face piercings, and even the bleached brows. You've seen this chick before and you know damn well she didn't have this look a year ago. It literally looked like he was wit a mini version of you to cope, you couldn't help but chuckle at the thought.

Your thoughts were interrupted when your homegirl came back having a drink in her hand she placed it on the table in front of you her grin wide. "Girl this better have more juice than alcohol,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes at her. She let out a playful chuckle tilting her head to the pair sitting across from you." please I know you need it."

Onyankopon's hand moved with slowness trailing up and down the curves of her thigh. Their lips were locked in a heated desperate kiss with their bodies leaning into each other. It was the kinda kiss that made them feel as if they were the only two in the room. Her fingers found the way to the back of his neck tracing slow patterns with her long acrylic nails.

You sighed, already regretting whatever concoction she’d handed you. But she wasn’t wrong. Your fingers tightened around the glass as you took a sip. The burn of the liquor hit the back of your throat sharply. "God damn girl, this shit is like straight alcohol." She just chuckled, unbothered. “You’ll thank me later" She sent you a small wink.

You chuckled but you felt disrespected as hell, your anger only growing a small scowl pulled at your lips and your features even though you tried not to show you were upset. Finally, the two of them broke apart, as your gaze drifted back to Onyankopon. You didn't wanna look at him. You really didn’t, but it felt impossible not to.

He sat there, cool and looking unbothered as he slowly brought the blunt to his lips the ember glowed faintly as he took a slow drag, his eyes half-lidded and slightly red as he threw his head back blowing out a cloud of smoke. He looked good too good it only made you angrier. The compression shirt he wore clung to him like a second skin, highlighting the defined muscles of his arms and each curve of his biceps. Around his neck, an icy Cuban chain glinted under the dim lighting, every diamond refracting in the light in tiny flashes that matched the diamond grillz on his teeth when he laughed.

And he was laughing deep and rich, his attention seemingly glued to her. It made you tighten your grip on your drink. But your gaze lingered a second longer than you should've cause like he’d been waiting for you to look. His sharp eyes met yours, his lips curving into a smirk, slow, deliberate, and arrogant. It wasn’t just a smile, it was a challenge he knew what he was doing and to twist the knife just a little deeper, he sent you a small wink while you raised your middle finger to him.

"Yo, chica," Connie’s voice called pulling your attention away from the scene you’d been trying and failing not to fixate on. His tone was light but teasing. "You gon’ stare at 'em all night, or you gon’ actually say something?"Your eyes sharply snapped to Connie's before rolling them with exaggerated annoyance. "Man, shut up," you muttered under your breath, but his smirk only widened.

"Ion got shit to say to his fuck ass," you said louder this time Ony's eyes landing on you. With a small huff you pushed yourself up from the couch, the words and movement just abrupt enough to draw a few more eyes in your direction. "I'm going to the bathroom." Not waiting for his reply you walk away hearing "Alright, chica." but while you are walking away you feel the strong gaze of ony searing into your back while you leave.

The tension between you and Onyankopon was impossible to ignore. It lingered heavy in the air pulling the energy in the room into an uncomfortable stillness. No one wanted to say it out loud, but everyone could feel it the charged energy between you and Onyankopon. This was the first time anyone had been around his new girl, and it was clear no one had expected her to show up. Her presence lowkey threw everything off. She sat close to him, her body angled in a way that claimed him without needing to say a word. She looked relaxed, her smile soft and unfazed, laughing at whatever joke he murmured to her. Onyankopon seemed just as unbothered, leaning back in his seat with the same casual demeanor acting like nothing was wrong.

But the vibe was off. Everyone could feel it, and it was lowkey fucking with the flow of the night. The music playing in the background felt quieter somehow even the usual banter that kept the group lively seemed muted. It was clear the vibe had shifted but neither Onyankopon nor his girl seemed to care.

"Annoying ass nigga," you mumbled under your breath, carefully reapplying your lip liner in the mirror. The soft hum of music playing in the background did little to ease your irritation. You leaned closer, perfecting the sharp edges when a sudden knock at the door made you pause. Assuming it was one of your friends checking in on you, you called out casually, "Come in." Your tone shifted instantly when the door opened to reveal the last person you wanted to see. "Get the fuck out," you snapped.

Instead of doing what the fuck you told him to do he smirked and stepped inside, the low click of the door lock echoing in the small space. "Why I gotta leave, ma?", his voice carrying that familiar, cocky tone that always got under your skin.

You crossed your arms, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. "Where yo lil girlfriend at?" The sourness in your voice was impossible to miss, but he just chuckled, taking slow, deliberate steps toward you." Why you worried about her?" he asked, his tone teasing, A smirk played on his lips as he bit down lightly on his bottom lip while his eyes roamed over you in a way that made your skin heat up.

"Trust me, I ain’t never worried bout ha" you spoke with a shrug your tone indifferent as you were downplaying the irritation inside you. "really?" he chuckled"So why was you so pressed when I had her on my lap n' shit?" He leaned closer into you as he spoke, with his knowing tone setting you on the edge. It was that one tone that made you feel so exposed like he just knew everything.

"Nigga, cause you disrespectful as fuck." you snapped stepping closer to him jabbing your long perfectly manicured nail into his chest. "Doing all that shit right in front of my face. really? " Your words came out sharply but the slight tremor in your voice showcased your true hurt feelings.

For a split second, he didn’t respond, just watched you with that look in his eyes, you also took the time to observe him. before you knew it, he had you cornered your back pressed against the cool wall, the space between you close to close, overwhelming so his sent a mix of your favorite cologne he wore and smoke was filling your nostrils like a trap, you were trapped. His body towered over yours, in a way that made it impossible to ignore that feeling you had for him deep down.

You tried to keep your composure, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes your eyes darting everywhere but his face. You felt as if his eyes were piercing into your skin making you feel small your eyes skimming over his chest, the wall to your left, the floor anywhere but him. His lip curved into that same aggravating smirk you'd seen all throughout the night you felt it without even looking at him. He knew he had you and you hated that he was right.

"Yea?" he said softly, his smooth and low almost a whisper. His fingers, tipped with clear polish, slipped under your chin with a gentle yet firm touch, you swoalled hard your pulse quickening while his hand tilted your head upward forcing you to meet his eyes. "You’re not even looking me in my eyes right now, mama." his voice soft but weighted every word hitting you like a punch. His thumb lightly brushed your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. "You only do that when you’re mad..."

His other hand, tattooed and warm slid down to your waist with an ease that felt too natural. His fingers pressed against your skin, warm and firm as they started tracing slow, soothing circles. The touch was soothing, almost comforting, but the effect it had on you was anything but calm.

"Nervous," he continued his lips curving into that signature smirk as he leaned in closer his breath brushing against your neck. "Jealous..." he added, dragging the word out, making you heart skip a beat. "You called me a fuck-ass nigga," he said with a quiet chuckle, his smirk deepening."Been rude to me all night. But…" He leaned in just slightly, his face close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his skin. His gaze traveled over your face studying every mood you tried to suppress." With how hard you tryna act right now," he said, his voice dipping even lower. "Ion think you’re mad."

"Trust me, I definitely ain’t jealous," you shot back, you pushed against his chest your palms flat against the hard surface the hard muscle beneath his shirt. You tried pushing him away from you but he wouldn't budge, too strong for that. Frustrated you gave up turning your head to face the wall beside you again refusing to meet his eyes.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and deep, like he found your resistance amusing."You act like I don’t know you," he said, his voice dropping into that smooth, familiar tone that always made your stomach twist. before you could respond, his hand slipped beneath your shirt. His palm was warm against your bare skin, his touch deliberate as his fingers spread across your waist, cupping you with a familiarity that made your breath hitch.

"How your body reacts to me," he murmured each word with a slow tease. " And only me." His thumb brushed lazy circles against your skin the subtle movement filling your body with heat finding it hard to keep your composure. Your jaw tightened, as you swallowed hard you felt his gaze burning into the side of your face as you kept your eyes elsewhere trying to keep your composure, but he noticed everything the way your breathing spead, the slight tension in your shoulders, the heat creeping up your neck. He knew you all too well.

"How you can get so wet from the smallest touches," his voice deep it felt so intoxicating he gripped the side of your neck firmly, tilting your head slightly his lips brushing against the curve of your neck, placing slow, lingering kisses trailing from the base of your neck to that sensitive spot just behind your ear.

He was a little more right than you wanted to admit heat was pooling between your thighs, your body was responding to him in ways you couldn’t control."How easy it is for me to get you to cum," he whispered his words like a challenge and promise all at once, his hand sliding down lower the short skirt you were wearing giving him all the access he needed, his fingers easily found the hem of your panties tugging lightly testing how far he could push you.

"All you gotta do is say please, baby," his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke his fingers toying with the delicate fabric.You hated this, you hated how easy it was for your body to give into him, how every word, every touch had your body being so reactive to him. The worst part is he knew no matter how much you tried to fight it he always knew. " And if I don't?" you shot back quriking a brow challenging him trying to hold onto the last bit of control you had left.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate. Instead, he leaned back slightly, his smirk still in place but softened with something that felt almost playful. "I’ll stop," he said simply, his voice calm giving you just enough space to breathe, the absence of his warmth leaving you feeling a bit cooler. His eyes locked onto your reading every emotion on your face." Do you want me to stop?" his voice becoming softer your throat felt dry, your chest tight, and for a moment, the room felt smaller like the walls were closing in around you. His words lingered but you knew you couldn't give him what he wanted, what you wanted, he disrespected you kissed and rubbed all over her in front of you, he probably got that other bitch outside waiting for him.

"Yea, in fact, I do," you snapped, your tone sharp and cutting. "Actually, go back to that other bitch. Bet you were thinking about me the whole time you were with her, loser-ass nigga."You stood tall your arms crossed over your chest as your chin was tilted in defiance you glared at him, daring him to respond.

You saw his jaw tense slightly for a second, his dark eyes narrowing as he looked at you, an unreadable expression flickering across his face. For a moment, you thought he might fire back, match your energy, and escalate things further. Instead, he gave you that madding smirk the one that always got under your skin, that was deliberate and full of arrogance, like he had already won whatever battle you thought you were fighting.

Onyankopon took a step back his movements smooth and calculated "Bet" he said, his voice calm and confident, his smirk deepening as he turned away, leaving you standing there with your emotions tangled and your chest tight." what the fuck.."

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at your reflection. The dim light highlighted the frustration etched across your features, your brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. You were upset but more than anything, you were disappointed in yourself. You hated how close you’d come to giving in to him, how his touch and his words had nearly had you.

"I gotta get outta here," you muttered under your breath, gripping the edge of the sink you wish you could erase the memory of his aggravating yet sexy smirk, the way his voice lingered in your mind, the way you still felt his hot teasing touches on your skin. After a few more moments of pacing in the cramped space, you gathered yourself, stepping outside the bathroom ready to tell everyone your goodbyes.

"Ahh, Chica! There you are!" Connie’s voice boomed as soon as he spotted you. His mischievous grin spread wide as he leaned back in his chair, a blunt in one hand. "What, were you takin’ a shit or somethin’?" You couldn’t help but chuckle shaking your head at his audacity "Boy no." you shot back, rolling your eyes, but the corner of your lips tugging upward in a reluctant smile.

"Good! Now we can finally play the game," he spoke, clapping his hands together. Your face quickly scrunched up at his words "What game?" "You ain’t hear?" Connie teased, his grin widening as he leaned forward like he was about to share some big secret." We finna play truth or dare."

Truth or dare? Yea no that was a recipe for disaster. You were already shaking your head, backing up a step. "Nah, I’m not playin’ no truth or dare," you said firmly. "I gotta go."

"Booo, you're no fun. Just stay for one round, please?" Connie whined dramatically, tugging slightly on your arm like a little kid. "Yeah, just one," your homegirl chimed in, You glanced between the two of them, their over-the-top expressions making it hard to say no. You sighed reluctantly rolling your eyes. "Fine. Just one round." The pair erupted into cheers like they’d just won the lottery." oh my god" You shook your head lightly with a smile and before you knew it, you were being dragged back to the group.

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the different scents of smoke and laughter as you all sat in a loose circle on the living room floor. It was you, your friend, Connie, Armin, Eren, Sasha, Onyankopon, and ole girl that he was still allowing to sit in his lap. Drinks were scattered across the coffee table, the faint smell of weed hung in the air, and the music playing in the background set the perfect vibe.

It didn’t take long for the game to take a turn. Of course, you weren't there for one round only. Truths became messier, dares became bolder, and the energy in the room shifted into something unpredictable, somehow you ended up with a blunt in hand, the warm paper crackling faintly as you brought it up to your lips. Your inhale was smooth, the smoke filling your lungs before you released it in a slow steady stream. For a brief moment, you felt the weight of the room fading but of course that didn't last long, you could feel Onyankopon's gaze drilling holes into the side of your head.

The others were laughing and shouting as Armin fumbled through a dare, but their voices felt distant in your mind. You refused to look his way keeping your attention on Armin in front of you. Your focus was on keeping your composure and pretending like Onyankopon’s presence didn’t affect you, even though it did. Instead of looking his way you exhaled again, letting the thick haze surround you while the game played on with rising tension and unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

"Okay, y/n, it’s your turn!" Sasha chirped, her smile a little too wide as if she was desperate to keep things light. You glanced at her, still feeling the weight of Onyankopon’s gaze lingering on you from earlier. His presence felt like a magnet, pulling at you no matter how hard you tried to ignore him. "Truth or dare?" Sasha pressed, her voice cutting through your thoughts. You sighed, leaning back into the couch. "Truth," you answered wanting to keep your peace for now. "What’s one of your biggest regrets?"

Sasha looked at you with an apologetic shrug, clearly realizing a second too late that her choice of question might’ve been a bit much.You inhaled deeply, the blunt in your hand burning idly as you took a slow drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs before exhaling with measured calm. "My biggest regret?" you echoed, You could feel everyone’s anticipation, their quiet curiosity mixed with a little nervousness. Finally, you set the blunt down, brushing off the ash as you spoke. "Probably wasting my time on people who didn’t deserve it," you said simply, your words carrying a sharpness through the air

Sasha let out a nervous laugh, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "Well, uh, that was... honest!" she stammered, trying to recover from the tension she’d just unleashed. Onyankopon didn’t say anything, but the way his gaze darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line for a split second, told you everything you needed to know. You’d hit a nerve, and he wasn’t about to let it go unnoticed.

"Alright, Eren, your turn," Connie finally said, breaking the silence and steering the game forward, though the lingering tension was impossible to ignore. You took another drag from your blunt, pretending not to notice the way Onyankopon’s eyes stayed locked on you, the air between you still humming with unspoken words.

But of course, Armin being the instigator he is couldn't resist stirring the pot. He leaned forward, a sly grin spreading across his face as the energy in the room shifted. It was Eren’s turn, and for this round, he decided to play it safe."Truth," Eren said with a casual shrug. "Alright, here’s a good one," Armin had been waiting for this moment no hesitation in his voice when he said. " Do you think y/n and Onyankopon still have feelings for each other?"

The room went dead silent, the kind of quiet where even the music in the background felt muted. You froze the blunt halfway up to your lips, and all eyes darted between you and Onyankopon. The playful energy of the room shifted into something far more uncomfortable. Eren, visibly caught off guard, leaned back. " Bruh," Eren muttered, running a hand down his face as he regretted picking truth at that moment.

Onyankopon on the other hand didn't bother hiding his reaction, his jaw clenched so tightly you could see the muscle ticking in his cheek. His usual calm, unbothered demeanor cracked just slightly, and for a moment, you could feel the heat of his irritation radiating off him. He shifted in his spot, his broad shoulders tensing as he glanced at you briefly before locking eyes with Armin. Armin was unfazed and enjoying every second of the chaos he leaned back on his hands, his grin only growing wider.

"Answer the question," Sasha teased, breaking the silence and nudging Eren with her elbow. You finally took a drag of the blunt, inhaling deeply like it was the only thing keeping you from snapping. Smoke curled from your lips as you exhaled slowly, refusing to meet Onyankopon’s gaze even though you could feel it boring into you. Eren hesitated, looking between you and Onyankopon like he was trying to navigate between making the air tenser

"Don’t even answer that dumbass shit," Onyankopon cut in, his voice low and sharp. His eyes remained fixed on Armin, daring him to push further. "Oh, come on, it’s just a game," Armin quipped, raising his hands in innocence. "Besides, we’re all thinking it, right?" You rolled your eyes, leaning back and blowing out another puff of smoke. "Y’all are so damn childish," you muttered. " And besides y'all disrespecting the lady I got on my lap right here."

"So now you worried bout disrespect? Got it, " you mumbled under your breath, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. But of course, someone heard, Onyankopon heard. His sharp gaze shifted to you instantly, his lips curving upwards. "Yea, I am," he said, his voice low but pointed like he knew exactly how his words would land. "What, you got something to say, ma?"

Your head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing as you met his eyes for the first time all night."Nah," you said coolly, though your tone betrayed the irritation simmering just beneath the surface. "Just funny how respect only comes up when it suits you."

The group sat frozen, their eyes darting between the two of you as if they were front-row spectators of the hottest new movie in theaters, Sasha raised her eyebrows, biting her lip to suppress a laugh, while Connie leaned forward, his grin wide as he whispered, "Oh, this about to get good." Armin's instigating ass sat back with a satisfied smirk proud of the little scene he was causing while Eren, who usually stayed detached, looked genuinely intrigued, his arms crossed as he watched the tension escalate. The air between you felt charged, heavy, as Onyankopon tilted his head slightly, that smirk deepening like he was enjoying this way too much. "Funny how you always got somethin' ta say when it’s about me,"

You straightened your back slightly, refusing to let Onyankopon’s words rattle you, but the heat in your chest only grew. "And what’s that supposed to mean?" you shot back, your voice sharp, Onyankopon let out a low chuckle and he leaned forward slightly, "You know exactly what it means, mama," he said, his eyes boring into yours. "You talk the loudest when you tryin' to convince yourself of somethin’."

The rest of the room was utterly silent now, every eye locked on the two of you. Connie muttered a quiet "Oh, shit," under his breath, leaning forward to catch every word, while Sasha’s wide eyes darted between you and Onyankopon, as though she were bracing herself for whatever came next.

You scoffed, your eyes narrowing as you stared at him with a sharp glare," And what am I trying to convince myself of?" Rising outta the soft sofa chair you tilted your chin upwards, refusing to back down. The challenge in your stance was clear, daring him to say something. Onyankopon mirrored your movement effortlessly, standing tall and matching your energy with an intensity that made the air between you crackle. His gaze locked onto yours. "That you don’t care," he said simply, his tone calm, almost too calm, as if he already had you figured out.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes even as the tension between you thickened. "Boy, please no one is worried about you and what you're doing." "Yea?," he said, his voice dropping lower a teasing edge dipping in. "You tryin’ so hard to act like I don’t get under your skin like you ain’t been feelin’ some type of way since you walked in and saw me."Your lips parted to respond, but no words came out, your mind racing for a comeback that wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He tilted his head, watching you intently.

"You talk the loudest when you tryin’ to convince yourself of somethin'," he continued, his tone laced with a confidence that made your chest tighten. "And right now? You tryin’ to convince yourself that I ain’t still in your head, that you don’t care what I do or who I’m with. But we both know that’s a lie."

He had you, and he knew it—knew you like the back of his hand, every button to push, every weakness to exploit. It infuriated you how easily he could get under your skin, how effortlessly he could unravel you with just a few words."Yea, your right cause you don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself,"You jabbed your finger hard into his chest, the force of it making him take a half-step back, but his eyes never wavered from yours. Your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to stay composed. The frustration, the anger, the hurt all of it bubbled to the surface, threatening to spill over.

"You don’t give a shit about me or ole girl you brought here tonight." you spat, The tears you’d been holding back glistened in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him. His smirk faltered, just slightly, the faintest flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he quickly masked it. "That's what you think?" he said, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. "That I don’t care?"

“I know you don’t care,” you vented, your voice trembling, whether from the anger you were feeling or the tears that would soon be running down your face, you weren't sure." cause if you did care you wouldn't have even brought this bitch here!"

You felt the knot in your throat getting tighter, the weight of everything, the anger, betrayal, the pain was so strong you felt like you could hardly breathe. You couldn’t let him see you like this vulnerable and feeling exposed.

Turning on your heel, you spat the words that had been burning on the tip of your tongue. “Fuck you, nigga. You’re a piece of shit.” Your voice cracked slightly, but the nastiness in your tone wouldn't go unnoticed. The words hung heavy in the air as you stormed off, your footsteps echoing in the sudden silence. Behind you, you could feel his gaze, a mix of shock and something else you couldn’t or wouldn’t decipher. But you didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

The ride home was a blur of headlights and streetlights blurred from your tear-filled eyes, your playlist filled with the saddest songs you could find each lyric pulling more tears from you, making the ache in your heart much heavier. With one hand on the smooth leather steering wheel, you used the other to wipe your checks even though it felt pointless.

You were finally letting the emotions of the night out, you were upset, angry really but not just at him. The situation kept playing over and over in your head, you thinking of different scenarios you should've done instead. That stupid fucking smirk on his face, his words, the way your feelings got completely disregarded. It wasn't just the fact that he disrespected you showing off that girl in front of you doing the things he would never do to you. It was also the fact that throughout the whole night, he acted as if nothing you said or did faze him like he was just enjoying playing a game.

But what stung worst of all is how badly you still wanted him. The memory of his touch lingered on your smooth skin still, every sensation burned into your mind, the way his fingers brushed against your skin so casually but left you wanting, needing more.

When you finally pulled into your driveway your body felt heavy and weighed down by exhaustion and frustration. You turned off the engine and with a shaky sigh, you made your way inside. tossing your bag onto the couch as you kicked off your shoes. Without thinking you grabbed the blunt you were smoking before and you sparked it, watching as the tip burned a bright red, the smoke curling into the air in your dimly lit living room. You inhaled deeply he warmth of it started to work its way through you, dulling your emotions just enough to breathe easier.

But even as you exhaled, the haze beginning the cloud the area around you, his face lingered in your mind, his voice, his touch, the way he had looked at you tonight like he knew exactly how to undo you. You took another hit hoping the weed would just do its job and calm you down.

After about fifteen minutes, the tension in your body had eased, The blunt doing its job leaving you feeling much more relaxed and calm, you did a small stretch feeling ready to take a shower and get some sleep.

But then, three loud knocks shattered that quietness, The sound made you jump slightly, your heart skipping a beat as you froze for a moment. You frowned, annoyed and unsure who would be knocking at this hour. You didn’t feel like dealing with anyone, thinking it was one of your friends checking up on you but curiosity got the better of you.

Huffing in annoyance you walked over to the window pulling the curtain aside just enough to peek out carefully to stay outta sight. And there he was Onyankopon, standing on your porch his hands shoved into his pockets his tall frame illuminated by the soft glow of the porch light.

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. Of course, it was him. You should’ve known. The audacity of him showing up here after everything tonight is crazy. He caught your gaze through the window, and you didn’t bother to hide your disdain you raised your middle finger flipping him off mouthing a silent" fuck you."

His expression didn’t change much just that same irritatingly calm look, with the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. You didn’t wait to see if he had anything to say. You let the curtain fall back into place and turned heading straight for the couch. Let him stand out there. You weren’t in the mood for whatever game he thought he yall were about to play.

That was until you heard the faint, click of the door unlocking. Your head whipped in the direction of the door heart sinking." “Oh, hell no,” you grumbled, realization hitting you that You’d completely forgotten about the spare key, the spare key that he damn well knew about you quickly scrambled toward the door, but before you could reach it, it was already swinging open. And there he was stepping inside like this was his house his calm, unbothered demeanor only fueling your anger. “C’mon, baby, let’s talk like adults,” he said smoothly, his deep voice filling the room as he shut the door behind him.

You stood rooted on to the spot your arms crossed over your chest and your eyes narrowing into a scowl that could've easily burned holes through him. The audacity of this man to just walk in after everything tonight left you speechless it was almost impressive in a sick way. “Get the fuck out!” you screamed your voice cracking with all your built-up frustration. You were done, done with his games, his arrogance, his complete disregard for your boundaries. "You're a piece of shit, Fuck you. Deadass." you pointed at him in frustration

But he didn’t flinch, didn’t even move a muscle. Onyankopon just stood there his tall frame leaning slightly against the doorframe, his body relaxed in a way that only made your blood boil more. His dark eyes stayed locked onto yours, unwavering, like he was trying to read every emotion spilling from you. He didn't interrupt, didn't defend himself, just listened calmly. “I know, I know,” he finally spoke up his voice low. “Let’s talk about why I’m a piece of shit.”

That was it. Your body reacted before your mind could, you balled up one of your hands slamming it repeatability in the palm of your hand, the force and intensity echoing in the room as you spoke. “Ouu, nigga,” you muttered your voice trembling a mix of anger and other emotions you were trying so hard to suppress. Your vision blurred slightly, your chest tightening as a familiar sting formed in your eyes. You blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears spill, but it was useless. The emotions were too strong anger, hurt, humiliation and they were all threatening to overwhelm you.

Onyankopon’s head tilted just slightly as he noticed, his brows furrowing for a brief second before smoothing out again. He didn’t say anything, didn’t make a move to comfort or provoke you further. Instead, his body remained still, except for his fingers, which lightly tapped against his forearm as if he were waiting for you to let it all out. The calmness in his posture only made you angrier. His steady breathing, the subtle rise and fall of his chest, was a stark contrast to the way your body shook with bottled-up rage and sadness. You could feel the tension radiating off him, though an energy that was barely contained beneath his cool exterior.

You stormed up to him, closing the space between you two until there were mere inches separating you. your voice came out sharp and controlled as you spat. “Nigga, I already said it you disrespectful as hell." Your hand shot up, jabbing your finger at his face, each point emphasizing your words.

Onyankopon didn’t flinch, but his jaw tensed, the muscles flexing visibly beneath his skin. His hands, previously crossed over his chest, fell to his sides as he let out a low, tired sigh. Slowly, he ran his fingers over his face, his palm dragging down from his forehead to his chin, as if trying to wipe away the tension.

“I understand,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. His eyes flickered back to yours, dark and serious. “And I apologize.” For a moment, you just stared at him, stunned by the words that came out his mouth. Then, out of nowhere, a sharp laugh escaped your lips, dry and humorless. You tilted your head back slightly as the bitter sound filled the room, your body radiating disbelief. "You're really sorry but you kept doing it?" you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm, " and then you kept doing it, rubbing that shit in my face and standing up for her. You shook your head, a short, sharp movement as if trying to shake off the absurdity of his words.

“You done?” he asked quietly, upset that you laughed at his apology when he really meant it. His head tilted ever so slightly, the smirk from earlier gone, replaced with something more serious. You let out another laugh cause no you weren't done not even close. “Oh, I’m just getting started,” you snapped, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. You leaned forward slightly, glaring up at him. “You think you can just say ‘sorry’ and everything’s cool? Nah, Ony. You don’t get to play with my feelings and then act like it’s not a big deal.”

His gaze flicked down to where your arms were crossed, his eyes lingering on the way your body was tense, practically vibrating with anger. He took a slow, deep breath, his chest rising and falling in a measured way, as if trying to steady himself.“I ain’t playin’ with your feelings, though ma,” he said, his voice softer but with a hint of frustration. His hand moved to rub the back of his neck.“You think I don’t care about you? That’s crazy. You know better than that.”

“Do I?” you shot back, uncrossing your arms and stepping even closer to him your index finger pressing into his chest. His skin was warm under your touch.“Cause everything you’ve done tonight says otherwise.”Ony looked down at your finger, then back at you, his jaw tightening again. He let out a low chuckle, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “You really think I don’t care?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave. He stepped forward, and suddenly, you were the one taking a step back.

“Say it,” his eyes locking onto yours, unblinking and intense. “Say I don’t care about you, and mean it.” You straightened your shoulders, tilting your chin up defiantly Your eyes locked onto his, “You don’t,” you said firmly, your voice steady and unwavering. There wasn’t a crack, not a hint of doubt

His smirk returned, but this time it was different, there was no amusement in the way he looked just frustration and slight confusion. “That’s cute,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he leaned even closer, his face now inches from yours.“You can say it all you want,” Onyankopon continued, his voice deep and steady, “but we both know that ain’t the truth.” His eyes searched yours, looking for any change in emotions but you didn't give him one. “You’re mad, and you’ve got every right to be. But don’t act like you don’t know where I stand.”

You stayed silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, even as your body tensed under the weight of his words. The air between you felt suffocating, heavy with unspoken emotions, but you held your ground, your eyes locked on his, daring him to push further. “You not gonna say anything, huh?”, his voice low and rough, like he was trying to keep his emotions in check. “That’s fine. I’ll talk. You think I don’t care? You think all that shit tonight was me just playin’? Nah. I know I fucked up, but don’t stand here and act like you don’t know what it is between us.”

Your jaw tightened, your hands balling into fists at your sides as you fought to maintain your composure. “What it is between us Ony?” you questioned, not feeling anything. “Ohhh, you mean the disrespect? The mind games? The way you show up, do whatever the hell you want, and think ‘sorry’ is enough to fix it?” Your voice was laced with scarsam tired of his shit.

His grip on his rings that he was playing with grew tighter,his lips pressing into a hard line as he absorbed your words. “I ain’t perfect,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. “But don’t act like I don’t care about you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”You laughed bitterly, the sound harsh in the quiet room. “Care about me?” you echoed, your voice rising. “If you cared, you wouldn’t have brought her here. If you cared, you wouldn’t have put me in that situation, making me look stupid while you sit there acting like it’s nothing.”

Ony’s eyes flickered with something guilt, maybe, or frustration but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned in even closer, your foreheads almost touching“You don’t look stupid,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You could never look stupid. I look stupid. And yeah, I messed up. I know that. That shit was childish of me." He looked into your eyes for a sign of hope a sign that you would forgive him for the bullshit he did tonight but there was nothing, your face was still stone cold.

"Whatever,"You didn’t even spare him another glance as you turned around determined to put an end to this exhausting exchange. "Go get your girl," you spat outta bitterness. But before you could take another step, you felt his hand wrap firmly around your waist." That's what I'm trying to do." The grip wasn’t harsh, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks. Heat radiated from his touch, rising up the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Don’t put your fucking hands on me,” you hissed, your footsteps halting abruptly. "Na, we not done talking," he shot back, his voice steady as his grip on your hip stayed the same. He now had your body pressed against the door frame. His body leaned forward slightly, closing the already small distance between you. “Words don’t mean shit, Ony,” you tried pushing him away from you but he couldn't budge. “Actions do. And your actions? Your actions are telling me everything I need to know.”

He exhaled slowly, his broad shoulders rising and falling with the weight of it, his eyes scanned your face as if he were trying to remember every detail to memory. His gaze lingered on your eyes, your furrowed brows, the tight set of your lips each feature showing your frustration and anger.“Then let me show you,” he said, his voice low, steady, and laced with determination. There was no hesitation in his tone, no room for doubt he fully meant what he was saying right now.

His grip on your waist shifted slightly, his fingers pressing into the curve of your hips with just enough firmness to hold you in place. His thumbs moved in slow, soothing circles it was deliberate and purposeful trying to use his touch as a reminder. Your breath hitched, and his dark eyes caught a slight falter, the flicker of something other than anger breaking through your defenses. He noticed everything, and it annoyed you how easily he read you.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a softer tone. “but I know you feel it, too.” His thumbs continued their slow path, soothing his gentle pressure drawing your attention back to him, back to the moment. Your hands hovered near your sides, unsure whether to push him away or hold him there He tilted his head slightly, his gaze searching yours for something unspoken, something he was determined to find.“Just... let me show you,” he repeated, his words even softer this time.

The two of you stood there with locked eyes the air between you thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. This one moment felt like an eternity, though it was only a matter of seconds your mind raaced with questions, your chest tightened as you tried to decipher his true intent. Could you trust him? Did he even deserve it? Meanwhile, his eyes softened slightly, but the intensity remained. It was as if he was silently pleading with you the rare vulnerability, hoping, praying you'd let down your guard once more just enough to let him in.

Then, before you could think to move or speak, Onyankopon made his decision. What he was about to do could either end with a stinging slap across his face or... something entirely different. Slowly he raised his fingers, giving you every chance to pull away if you desired. They slid underneath your chin his touch delicate, somewhat scared that you might pull away at any moment. He tilted your head upward, just slightly forcing you to look directly at him. His gaze felt so intense it made your knees feel wobbly.

Then before you could think or react, he leaned in his lips brushing against yours soft yet firm. The kiss was slow, tantalizing filled with an intensity that left you breathless. This kiss was deliberate as if he'd been waiting for this moment forever savoring every second of it.

The two of you slowly pulled away from the kiss, your breaths mingling as you lingered close, foreheads almost touching. His lips pecked against yours one last time softly, "You’re so annoying," a small laugh escaping as you turned your head to the side, trying to hide the warmth creeping up your face. Onyankopon’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, his hand still resting on your waist, his thumb gripping the fabric of your shirt. "I know, mama," he replied, his voice low and teasing, with just the slightest edge of affection. "I know."

The two of you made your way upstairs to your bedroom, the tension increasing with every second he couldn't keep his hands off you. Once inside, Onyankopon gently laid you down on the bed, your body sinking into the soft embrace of the mattress. He hovered over you, his broad shoulders blocking out the dim light from the room. His body settled between your legs, the heat radiating off him and seeping into you. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer, your ankles locking behind him. His hands gripped the sides of your thighs tightly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

Lowering himself, he leaned in and placed a series of light kisses along your neck, his lips moving slowly, each one more purposeful than the last. He adjusted his grip on your thighs, sliding his hands up toward your hips before gripping firmly again. His lips parted, and you felt his lips sucking your skin. You let out a quiet hum at the action he lingered your neck in small kisses until he got to that one spot behind your ear that drove you crazy. "I'm sorry baby, I really am." His hands went underneath the shirt you had on gripping your breast, his fingers squeezing and tugging at your nipples.

"Ony, pleaseee," you whined, impatiently as your lips curved into a small pout. Your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you in frustration, your body tense and eager. You were tired of all the teasing, the deliberate slowness of his movements. After what he did to you tonight he shouldn't have been moving this slow. His hands were firm yet gentle as they trailed up your thighs, just barely hovering over that spot you wanted him to touch so badly,"You forgive me?" his thumbs were brushing your sensitive skin with ease.

Your jaw clenched slightly at his question, the audacity of it clear in the slight raise of your brow. Absolutely not, you thought, but instead of saying anything, you pressed your lips together and stayed silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. He smirked at your lack of response, leaning back slightly. His hands moved to the waistband of your skirt, his fingers hooking under the fabric." damn it's like that?" He smirked at your lack of response, leaning back slightly. His hands moved to the waistband of your skirt, his fingers hooking under the fabric. Without breaking eye contact, he began to tug them down, his movements slow and agonizingly deliberate. The soft fabric dragged over your hips, the friction against your skin making your breath hitch.

He paused for a moment, his hands still gripping the material just above your knees, his eyes flicking back up to your face gauging your reaction. His lips curved into a subtle grin when he noticed the way your chest rose and fell, your body betraying the calm expression you tried to maintain. Ony continued pulling, the skirt slipping down your legs inch by inch, his fingertips grazing your skin as he went. Every movement felt intentional and slowed the air around you thick with tension. When he finally slid the fabric past your ankles, he tossed them aside without a second thought.

Onyankopon's large hands gripped your thighs firmly, his thumbs grazing the sensitive skin as he moved upward with agonizing slowness. His fingers hovered just over the damp fabric of your panties, his touch light but deliberate, sending a jolt of pleasure through you as he pressed down ever so slightly onto your clit. “Gotchu real quiet now,”His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched your body react to him. A soft moan escaped your lips, betraying how much his touch affected you, and you arched your hips instinctively, seeking more pressure. Onyankopon chuckled, the sound deep and rich as he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss just below your belly button.

His lips trailed downward, planting slow, deliberate kisses from the center of your stomach to the edge of your panties, just above your clit. After every kiss mumbling some incoherent nonsense you didn't care about. “Ony, stop teasinggg,” you dragged out, your voice carrying both frustration and need.

He got on his knees his hands tightened slightly on your thighs, holding you in place as his lips hovered over the damp fabric, his warm breath fanning against you. “Stop teasing?” he repeated mockingly, raising an eyebrow as his lips brushed lightly over the cloth. " maybe if you say you forgive me I will." You bit your lip, your frustration growing as his fingers traced the outline of your panties, just barely touching you. His lips pressed softly against the fabric again, adding to the building tension. "I can't, not yet."

His lips brushed against the damp fabric again, this time more intentionally, lingering just a little longer, the sensation sending a pulse of need throughout your body. Your body twitched waiting for him to hurry up.He glanced up at you through hooded eyes, watching every twitch, every shift in your expression. “You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?” as his fingers finally slid just beneath the edge of the fabric. The slight shift of his touch against your skin made your hips jerk involuntarily, but he held you steady, smirking at your reaction

His other hand slid up, fingers laying across your lower stomach to hold you in place as his thumb lazily traced circles over the edge of your thigh. The friction was just enough to make you desperate for more but not nearly enough to satisfy.

.“You’re not gonna make this easy for me, are you, mama?” he teased, his lips curving into that same smug smile that always made your blood boil—and your body betray you.He pressed another kiss, this time just below the fabric, his breath hot and tantalizing. "You can keep playing hard to get, but we both know where this is going."

"Your such a egotistical bas-" You tried to hard to tell him to fuck off but the way he's hands and mouth were working in tandem had your words caught in your throat as he took a long stripe from the bottom of your panties to the top of your clit

"Still not ready to forgive me?" he asked softly, his voice dripping with mock innocence. You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as if they’d somehow ground you. Your body was betraying you, reacting to every deliberate touch, every teasing flick of his tongue, every warm breath he exhaled against you."Not yet." you let out an airy breath, your voice barely audible but firm.

Onyankopon chuckled again, this time lower, more satisfied."I guess I’ll just have to work a little harder then,"His grip on your thighs tightened again, pulling you just slightly closer to the edge of the bed, aligning himself perfectly between your legs. His lips pressed firmly against the center of the fabric this time, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp, your hips bucking slightly against his hold.

"Careful," he said, smirking as he held you firmly in place. "Wouldn’t want you to give yourself away."Your breathing was uneven, your chest rising and falling with every teasing motion he made. His tongue darted out, pressing against the damp spot, adding to the already unbearable heat pooling in your stomach. You bit your lip hard, refusing to let the moan threatening to escape win.

"Still not forgiving me?" he asked, his tone smug and confident. He kissed the fabric again, this time harder, the pressure sending a jolt through your body. "Guess I’ll have to keep apologizing then."

You were about to give in soon you don't think he should be forgiven just yet but you just wanted to cum and he barely even touched you. Your fingers gripped the sheets tighter as Onyankopon's actions continued, his lips and tongue tormenting you through the thin fabric of your panties. He seemed to take his time, savoring every reaction he pulled from you, every slight shift of your body, and every ragged breath you couldn’t contain. His hands held your thighs firmly, thumbs kneading gently against your skin like he was trying to keep you grounded.

When you didn’t respond to his last taunt, he chuckled, low and husky, the sound reverberating against you. "Silent treatment now?" he teased, sliding his fingers along the waistband of your panties again. He tugged on them just enough to make you squirm, his lips brushing the exposed skin right above them.

"You're only making this harder for yourself, mama," he murmured against your skin, his voice smooth. Your body betrayed you again, a soft whimper slipping out despite your best efforts to stay composed. He caught it, of course, his smirk widening as he looked up at you, his dark eyes glittering with satisfaction. "There she is."

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly began to pull your panties down, his movements unhurried, deliberate, as if he wanted to draw out every second of your anticipation. His lips followed the path of the fabric, planting soft kisses along your thighs as he worked the material lower.

By the time your panties were halfway down, his hands returned to your thighs, spreading them just slightly wider. He tilted his head, his lips pressing another kiss against your inner thigh, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just enough to make you gasp.

“Say the words, and I’ll stop,” he said, his voice quieter now, softer, as if daring you to push him away. But the way his hands moved, the way his lips lingered on your skin, it was clear he wasn’t in a rush for you to decide.

You gave up the act, the walls you had built crumbling under the weight of his persistence and your own longing. It was useless to keep fighting a battle you were never going to win, he had you cornered emotionally and physically, and deep down, you knew you couldn’t hold out any longer. Your breath hitched as the tension in the room seemed to thicken, the silence growing heavier by the second. Finally, reluctantly you said what he'd been waiting to hear." I forgive you Ony."

It was as if a switch flipped inside him. The change was instant, his entire demeanor shifting from restrained patience to hunger. He didn’t waste a single moment. You gasped, your breath catching in your throat as you felt his wet warm tongue gliding against your slit. The sensation was overwhelming your brain already feeling scrambled, but what really caught you off guard was the unexpected pressure of metal. You’d completely forgotten about his tongue piercing. It hadn’t been in earlier tonight, you were sure of it, and you had no idea when he’d decided to put it back in.

Your mouth parted, a soft moan escaping before you could stop it. The metal ball traced slow, tantalizing circles around your clit, the contrast between the cool steel and the heat of his tongue making your body tremble. " Fuckkk~" the sensations so overwhelming you felt your eyes shut tightly and your fist ball up.

“Say it one more time,” he demanded, his voice deep and commanding, But before you even got a chance to respond he quickly slid his pointer finger into you, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. “Ahh~” The sound escaped your lips as your back arched involuntarily up off the bed, the sounds of nothing but your wetness filling the air.

Your legs instinctively tried to close around his face, an attempt to contain the overwhelming sensation, but he wasn’t having it. His free hand moved with quick speed, gripping your thigh firmly and forcing your legs apart again. “Don't that shit,” The dominance in his deep voice only made the heat pooling in your core intensify.

The way he handled you, the way he spoke it was impossible to resist. Your chest heaved as you tried to steady your breathing, but it was no use. The way his finger curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot, and the intensity of all these things were driving you insane.

“Please, baby,” he said, his voice softening unexpectedly going from demanding to pleading he lifted his head slightly, his lips glistening with evidence of his work. “Say it again.” His fingers worked you with deliberate precision, his thumb brushing over your most sensitive spot in a way that made your toes curl. His lips hovered just above your skin, his breath warm and teasing as he waited for the words he so desperately wanted to hear." I forgive you Ony fuck." You had tears forming in the corner of your eyes from the pleasurable sensations.

His fingers thrust in and out of you with a steady rhythm, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. He could feel your walls clamping down around him “So fucking wet,” he muffled into your cunt and your breath hitched, your voice shaky as you moaned. The sensation of his pierced tongue pressing firmly against your clit was driving you insane.

“It’s too muchhh~,” you cooed, your voice trembling as your body began to tense up under the relentless assault of his mouth and fingers. His tongue swirled around your clit the cool metal of the barbell rubbing and teasing your most sensitive spot in ways that left you breathless. Your back arched off the bed, your hips lifting trying to escape the overwhelming sensations, but there was no relief to be found—not that you wanted any. He was everywhere, his fingers plunging deeper as he added another, the stretch intensifying the pleasure to a point that made your toes curl.

The tingling spread throughout your body your nerves alight with sensation as you gripped the sheets beneath you. “Onyyy,” you whined, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. The combination of his fingers curling inside you and his tongue sucking gently on your clit was too much yet you began grinding against his face wanting to feel more He didn’t stop his hands only holding you steady as his mouth and fingers worked in perfect harmony. You were so close that tight coil in your stomach could snap at any moment. "You're doing so good for me mama."

Your thighs trembled uncontrollably as the sensations built, the pressure in your core growing unbearable. Every thrust of his fingers, every flick and suck of his tongue sent waves of pleasure rippling through you. The cool metal of his tongue piercing seemed to amplify everything, its smooth surface gliding over your clit with a precision that left you gasping for air.

“Onyyy, please,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as you struggled to form coherent words. Your hands flew to his head, fingers tangling in his hair in a futile attempt to ground yourself. But even as you tugged gently, your body betrayed your need, rolling your hips against his face with increasing desperation.

He groaned low in his throat, the vibration sending another jolt of pleasure straight to your core."Breathe baby." he murmured between licks his deep voice rumbling against your sensitive flesh. Your body was on fire, every nerve in your body growing sensitive, Your back arched higher, your chest rising as a broken moan tore from your lips. “I-I can’t” you gasped, the words catching in your throat as the tingling sensation spread through your entire body, consuming you.

“You can,” As if to prove his point, his fingers sped up slightly, curling with even more precision, while his tongue flicked faster over your clit. The combination sent you spiraling, your body tightening as the pressure reached its peak, your eyes rolled back, toes curled, fist bawled up. With a loud cry, your body gave in, shuddering violently as the release hit you. " Fuckkk~" you gasped for air but even as you came undone beneath him, he didn’t stop, his movements slowing but never faltering.

Your body was still trembling from the first release, you soon realized he wasn’t stopping. Onyankopon’s fingers kept their relentless pace, pumping in and out of you with precision, his tongue never leaving your clit. The overstimulation hit you immediately, pulling a broken whimper from your lips. “Onyyy, wait, I—ahh!” Your plea was cut off as his piercing dragged over your clit again, the metal cool against your overheated skin. Your thighs twitched, your hips trying to pull away, but his hands gripped you firmly, holding you exactly where he wanted you.

"Stop tryna run," he groaned The sound sent a shiver through your already over-sensitive body, and you felt your walls fluttering around his fingers. “Please,” you whimpered, though you weren’t sure if you were begging him to stop or keep going. He chuckled darkly against you, the vibration against your clit making your body jolt. " Just give me one more." His fingers curled inside you, pressing against that perfect spot that made your back arch off the bed again. His tongue worked in tandem, flicking and sucking swirling around your clit, he was driving you insane you didn't know much more you could take.

Your breaths came in short, desperate gasps, your body writhing beneath him. The overstimulation blurred into another wave of pleasure, the intensity doubling as your body began to climb toward another peak.“Onyyy,” you cried out, your voice shaky and high-pitched, your hands gripping the sheets tightly You could feel the intense pressure building again faster and stronger than before the pressure in your core coiling tighter and tighter.

He didn’t let up for a second determined to pull you over the edge again. “Let go,” he murmured against you, his voice a deep rumble that sent a shiver through you. His words were all it took. Your second climax washed over you harder and stronger than the first your body convulsing as you let out a loud, broken moan. Your vision blurred, your mind going blank as the overwhelming pleasure consumed you completely. He groaned in satisfaction, holding you steady as your body trembled uncontrollably beneath him. Even as the aftershocks coursed through you, his tongue slowed but didn’t stop, lazily drawing out every last bit of sensation making sure to not leave any small drop anywhere but his mouth. You were completely worn out already, your chest wavering as you tried to catch your breath, your body limp and trembling in his hands.

"You're evil," your voice shaky and hoarse as you tried to regain your breath. Onyankopon let out a breathy chuckle, his dark eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and need, His lips were slightly swollen, and his skin glistened in the dim lighting with sweat and your release. He looked utterly wrecked, yet still completely in control, a man who knew exactly what he was doing to you. “You can handle it,” he stated simply.

Before you could catch even a moment's breath the metallic click of his belt buckle echoed in the air, Your eyes widened as you watched him, every movement slow and calculated, giving you just enough time to anticipate what was coming. He pulled the belt free, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud, his hands already working to free himself. “Ony, wait,” you started to say, but your words faltered as he leaned forward, his hands gripping your hips with a firm but gentle hold.

Your body was still trembling, sensitive and overstimulated, but that didn’t seem to faze him. He stroked his length once, twice, and your breath hitched as you took in the sight of him. The raw intensity in his gaze made your stomach flip, heat pooling low in your abdomen despite your exhaustion." I know you can take it, baby."

He pressed the swollen head of his length against your entrance, the warmth of him making you gasp. Your body was still slick, your sensitivity making every sensation sharper, more overwhelming. He didn’t rush, though. Instead, he moved with deliberate slowness sliding the tip of his head up and down your slick slit, the friction igniting every nerve throughout your body. "onyyyy" The smooth glide of his skin against yours had your body reacting in ways you couldn’t control—your hips twitching, your thighs trembling, your breath hitching with every deliberate motion.

"what baby?" He asked his voice so carefree as if he wasn't torturing you right now. The weight of his gaze on you was almost as intense as the sensations he was creating. He kept his movements slow, dragging the head of his cock over your clit in a way that made your back arch off the bed. The swollen tip pressed against the sensitive bundle of nerves just long enough to have you gasping before he slid it back down, teasing your entrance but never fully pushing in.

"Put it in, please." Your thighs quivered, and your hips moved on their own trying to angle yourself to take him in, but he held you in place, his grip firm as his hands rested on your hips, thumbs pressing into your skin in a way that grounded you. "Patience." He continued his torturous teasing, the head of his length sliding just barely inside before pulling back out, leaving you aching and desperate.

Your hands flew to his forearms, nails digging into his skin as you tried to ground yourself, the teasing becoming too much. Your breaths came in short, shallow pants, your chest rising and falling as he dragged the tip of his cock over your entrance one last time before finally pausing, the heat of him pressed firmly against you.

He finally pushed into you his thick length pressing into your entrance at a slow agonizing pace, his cock stretched you out immediately, your walls squeezing against him as he sank deeper inch, by inch filling you up completely. "ahh" a choked gasp escaped your lips, your body tensing at the overwhelming sensations of his stretching you out. "Relax mama" ony mumbled against your skin, his lips brushed against your collarbone, placing soft kisses against your neck as he continued to ease himself into you.

His large hands gripped your waist firmly his thumb stroking small circles around your skin to try to relax you, A deep, soft groan rumbled from his chest, the sound vibrating through you, making your body quiver in response. His head dipped lower, and his forehead came to rest against your shoulder " You know I love you right?" Something about the way he said it raw made your stomach flip. It wasn’t just the words, though. It was the way he looked at you, his gaze, the way his hands gripped you like he never wanted to let go. You could tell he was about to go ham on your insides.

“Ony,” you said flatly, your voice deadpan as you tried to maintain composure. You turned your head just enough to look at him, catching the barest hint of a smirk on his lips. He didn’t flinch, didn’t waver. His dark eyes stayed locked on yours, and he repeated himself, his voice softer this time. “You know I love you, right?” You replied, your tone a mix of anticipation"Yea."

Without hesitation, Onyankopon hooked your legs over his broad shoulders, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs to hold you firmly in place. The shift in position lifted your hips slightly off the bed, angling your body just enough for him to delve even deeper. The stretch was immediate and intense, making your breath hitch as the new angle allowed him to hit spots that had you seeing stars.

He wasted no time, thrusting into you with relentless precision, each stroke was so deep. His hips snapped forward with a steady rhythm, his cock dragging along your walls with a mix of pleasure and pressure that left you gasping. each one hitting a spot inside you that made your toes curl. The force of his thrusts had your body shifting up the bed. The slick sound of your body meeting filled the room, “Fuck,” his voice hoarse, his grip tightening as he picked up his pace. “You’re taking me so well, mama.”

“Ahh—Ony!” you cried out, your voice shaky and high-pitched as you felt the intensity of his pace. Your walls clenched around him tightly, desperate to hold onto him, Your head pressed back into the pillows, your hands clawing at the sheets as you tried to hold on, but the intensity was too much. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the room, mixed with your moans and his low grunts. Your hands flew to his arms, clutching onto his biceps as you tried to steady yourself, but the overwhelming pleasure made it impossible to hold still. “Hah—o-please!” you whimpered, your voice breaking as his cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you.

“Please what, baby?” he rasped, His eyes never left your face, watching every expression, every gasp, every moan that spilled from your lips. His thumb traced over your skin briefly before he grabbed your hips harder, pulling you down onto him with each thrust. Your entire body trembled, your legs quivering over his shoulders as he leaned in slightly, pressing you further into the mattress. The new depth made you cry out, your hands gripping at his arms desperately as your body writhed beneath him. “Onyyy—I can’t!” you managed to choke out, though your body betrayed you, hips bucking up to meet his every thrust.

And as if the overwhelming sensations weren’t enough, Onyankopon’s thumb dropped down to your swollen clit pressing firmly against the swollen bud rubbing slow, deliberate circles your whole body jerked. A pornographic moan tore from your lips, the combination of his relentless thrusts and the added stimulation pushing you to the brink. Your back arched off the bed, your fingers clutching at the sheets “Oh—Onyyy!” you wailed, your voice trembling as your hips bucked involuntarily, trying to escape the intensity.

"Don't fucking do that shit." he didn’t slow down, his thumb continuing its maddening rhythm, rubbing over your clit with just the right amount of pressure to have your toes curling. Your thighs trembled against his shoulders, your body completely at his mercy as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. “Onyyy—I c-can’t!” you stammered, your voice breaking as your walls clenched down on him tightly, trying to pull him even deeper.“You can take it,” he murmured, his voice soft but commanding, his thumb applying just a little more pressure as he sped up the circles on your clit. he watched every twitch, every gasp, every helpless moan that spilled from your lips. “You’re gonna take it, mama. All of it.”

The intensity was unbearable, your back arched off the bed every nerve in your body was on fire as his cock continued to hit that perfect spot inside you, and his thumb worked your clit with precision. Your body shook uncontrollably as the sensations built higher and higher, your vision blurred, your breaths coming in ragged pants as the tension coiled tighter and tighter in your abdomen, ready to snap at any second.

"I'm close so ony" you whimpered, your voice trembling as your walls fluttered and clenched around him tightly. He groaned low in his throat, the sensation almost enough to break his own self-control. The way you gripped him was insane pulling him deeper, tighter but nonetheless, he was always gonna make you cum before him. “C’mon, mama. Let it go for me.” His hips kept their steady, deliberate rhythm, plunging into you with precision, each thrust dragging against that perfect spot inside you that had you seeing stars.

Your head fell back against the pillow, a string of broken moans spilling from your lips as the pressure built higher and higher. The way his cock dragged against your walls, the firm strokes of his thumb, the weight of his body pressed against yours—it was all too much, the pleasure mounting to an unbearable peak. “I’m not stopping until you give it to me.” The sound of his voice, the commanding yet tender tone, pushed you over the edge. Your back arched violently off the bed, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as the wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your body clenched around him, trembling as you rode out the intense high, every nerve ending alight with sensation. "That's it, baby. Good job."

Onyankopon didn’t stop, his relentless thrusts driving you further into the mattress as he chased his own release. The air around you was heavy with the sound of his heavy breathing, your cries of pleasure, and the wet, slap of skin against skin. His movements became slightly erratic, sloppy even as he was teetering on the edge of his climax, yet he still maintained enough control to make sure you felt every stroke. “Where you want it, mama?” his voice sounded strained even though he tired not to.

You were completely undone, your body trembling beneath him, your mind fogged with pleasure. Despite how fucked out you felt, you managed to muster enough strength to respond. “In me, please,” you gasped, your voice breaking into a desperate cry. “Fuck,” he groaned, his hips snapping harder against yours as his restraint began to unravel. He shifted slightly, angling his hips just right so that every thrust hit that sensitive spot deep inside you, making you shudder and cling to him even tighter.

“You sure, baby?” he asked, his tone softer now as if giving you one last chance to change your mind. Your legs locked around him pulling him in even closer. “Please, Ony,” you whimpered That was all he needed. His grip on your hips tightened, his pace quickening as he chased his high. Each thrust was deliberate, powerful, driving into you with a force that left you breathless. His forehead pressed against yours, his eyes squeezing shut as he finally let go, spilling into you with a deep, throaty groan." fuck baby." a quiet moan slipped outta his mouth making you wanna cum right there.

You felt the warmth of him fill you, the sensation pushing you to the edge one more time. Your body clenched around him instinctively, milking him for everything he had as you cried out, your own release blending with his. He collapsed onto you, his weight comforting rather than overwhelming as his breaths came out ragged and uneven.

Ony’s strong hand wrapped firmly around your neck bringing you closer until your lips met his in a heated kiss. You tasted your fluids that lingered on his lips His pierced tongue traced a slow, teasing line across your lips, the cool metal adding a tantalizing contrast to the warmth of his touch. As your mouth parted and his tongue pressed against yours, his fingers squeezed your neck slightly his head tilting slightly to deepen the kiss before he pulled away. “You forgive me for real mama?” he murmured against your lips, his voice having genuine sincerity in them, as he held you close.

" Yes Ony I forgive you for real."

#anime x reader #anime x y/n #aot #aot x reader #aot x black reader #aot x black y/n #ony x black reader #aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x black reader smut #onyankopon x black reader #black reader #anime x black reader #onyankopon #aot smut #attack on titan #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon smut #aot imagines

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multipleoccupancy · 2 days ago

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"Oh tell him that if he kicks up a stink about not getting to take the crossbow home." Sloane chimed happily, Killian would want her safe from bears for sure. Though he did chuckle softly, at least in Florida he had to be used to some more hostile wildlife, Killian was very, very clearly a city kid. Violet seemed much more aware though, but she had already explained to him that she had been out in the wild west during a pre-industrial USA, she had to be capable and aware.

"I am sure I can remove some students if we have to but there's probably an empty room for her to use this time of year anyway." He preferred the idea of Violet being safe and secure wherever she was. She seemed reckless, he of course had no idea his plan would crash and burn no matter how well he tried to think it all out. "Let her decide the codeword, give her some more responsibility and weave her into the cell a little more." Hopefully enough that Killian would overcome his fear of Delta Green just enough not to report her.

Theo did at least snap out of his deep and repetitive thoughts as she showed him how it all worked. It at least clicked something in his brain well enough to get him to refocus despite his continued worries over a cultist version of himself. He sounded terrifying from what Violet described. Imagine throwing her out of a window?!

He gave an awkward not quite perfected polite smile for her thanks, not sure what if he did think what had happened was right but it was an in the moment decision and she had survived to fight another day, right? Curious about the laziness of cultists and the shade being thrown he was at least reassured she wasn't one herself. "A yes, science," Theo hummed to her alternative light source, a faint chuckle in his tone. "The good people's magic." He winked at her playfully again, swinging back around to his usual self.

He looked over the finished crossbow as she showed him and smiled. "It's really cool. We should practice with it though, don't think it's the same as shooting a gun." The aim was different right? Probably, he didn't actually have a clue what he was talking about but he was nineteen and boisterous and now excited to play with a crossbow.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Samantha laughed. She knew Sloane was speaking fondly of Killian. Besides, he was right. "You have a point," she admitted, "we'll just keep it in my car. Like that, he can use it whenever we're on the mission, and he won't be grounded by his parents for showing up at home with a crossbow." She smiled. "I don't mind at all. It could be useful to have a crossbow in the car, anyway. There are a lot of bears where I live." Which had absolutely horrified Killian when she'd told him about it.

"If we can get the key to an empty dorm, she might be able to lock herself inside. Like that no one can bother her, and she'll be safer, too." She glanced at Violet, carefully assembling the very dangerous crossbow she was going to use. "We can decide on a codeword, so she'll know it's us when we knock on the door." Once the monster would be safely caught and brought to a discreet location.

Violet could tell that Theo was still rattled, but she continued her explanations, hoping it would help him be grounded again. After a moment he did start to watch what she was doing. She was helping, right? She thought of her dad, how she had broken him when she'd told him she was Mauve, and her chest tightened. "Once the bowstring is through the pulley, it can actually be stretched," she explained very gently.

Finally, he spoke, and relief washed over her. Not only was he talking again, but he was nice to her, too. "Thank you," she croaked, moved by his words. He didn't want anything to happen to her. "A lot has happened, but good things happened too."

She smiled. He was trying to comfort her, despite his rigidity towards rituals. "Thank you for understanding. It means a lot to me." With the string now put through the pulleys, she demonstrated how the bowstring could stretch. "I think rituals are like cheating. Cultists are lazy. I can make light just fine without a ritual. All I need is a potato, a few wires and coins, and a light bulb."

"And I can make a crossbow too," she concluded with a smile.

#hvbris #killian #violet #asoue au

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tackykachowch · 2 days ago

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How it feels to not like timebomb after s2

#I'M NOT A HATER I SWEAR I ACTUALLY REALLY LIKE IT ON PAPER #i do however think that it came literally out of nowhere and was hella rushed and kinda ridiculous #like. if the argument is that original ekko fell in love with jinx it doesn't make sense because they were enemies for most of their lives #if the argument is that current ekko fell in love with au powder and now projects these feelings on jinx it's kinda uh. messed up #because she's a whole different person. entirely. it doesn't matter if both these version started out as a 9-year old powder. they had #extremely different lives and experiences and thinking that “there's still this kind of powder in jinx deep down” is straight-up awful #OR even if he didn't project his feelings for powder on jinx why would he love her in the current universe? last time they met she blew them #up and now she wants to commit suicide. there's literally no reason for him to have any kind of feelings except the slight friendly #affection that's left from all those years ago. and yet the show and most importantly the fandom treats them like a couple??? i don't get it #also it's kinda insane that s2 turned jinx and ekko into flat shipping material #again. obviously i have nothing against the shippers and do not condemn it in any way. i'm just expressing my thoughts on the matter #also what pisses me off the most. is how in ep9 jinx in fully painted with ekko's symbols here and there. has the bandage (?) on her chest #like vi. has a hood that looks like a drawing that isha made. and yet there's no fishbones or any reference to silco at all #i mean. i get it s2 hates him but i can't help it #they gave her all these relationships and pretended that they're significant to her and yet they didn't have any proper development #to really earn it #arcane critical #arcane season 2 #anti timebomb #jinx arcane #ekko arcane

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fidogo · 2 days ago

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john price x reader, but accidentally running into the 141 after only going on a few dates with Price wc: 0.9K warnings: mentions of sex, age gap, daddy kink, dacryphilia, use of sweetheart + angel a/n: I make such a stupid joke in this about Ghost and Soap LMAO forgive me

The pub was warm, a sweet haven from the chill outside. It was already decked out with cheap garlands and holiday lights, all hung with care. Your friends tear off to the bar to order a few drinks, leaving you to find a booth.

You slink through the chairs and the tables, making a beeline to the one available booth. You’re about to get nice and cozy when you stop in your tracks.

He’s here.

You didn’t know John terribly well. The two of you had only gone on a few very successful dates, but you were not close enough to know who he was sitting with.

What you did know was this:

1. John was older than you.

2. He was an absolute gentleman whenever he took you out.

3. He really liked when you called him daddy and liked fucking you until you were in tears (and after...especially after).

Back to the three men at the table with him. Given their demeanor, it was safe to assume they were also military. One of them was maybe Gaz/Kyle...bu that was it.

Your feet move automatically. (Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you wonder if you should stop walking and go back to the booth you found. Maybe it’s too early to meet his friends.)

The men’s boisterous voices quiet as you approach, and the one with a mohawk elbows one who's masked. You ignore them, focusing on John, whose face softens a smidge (and his eyes light up).

“Hi, John.” You’re a little more nervous than you thought you would be. (He had you creaming on his cock and whining like you were in heat the other night. This should be nothing!)

“Hi, Sweetheart,” he answers, standing to kiss your cheek. “What’re you doing here?” His eyes are warm and earnest, immediately putting your anxieties to rest.

“Just getting a drink with my friends before the new year. Things are about to pick up, so we’re trying to just get a drink one last time.” John looks at you so fondly, it warms your heart. Fuck the alcohol, fuck the fire or radiator or whatever’s in here, all you need is John Price to look at you like this to make you warm and toasty.

“Would you all want to sit with us?” He asks, knocking on the table. You glance at the table full table, trying not to laugh at his friend's expressions (shock and disbelief coupled with some respect for Price).

Remembering his manners, John introduces you to his men and places one large, strong, hand on the small of your back. You lean into him slightly, trying to not seem too pleased to be here with him.

“This is Gaz, Soap, and Ghost,” John introduces. You freeze, confused for a second. You thought..... Oh. Oh.

“Oh.” You say aloud. Stupidly. John quirks a brow at you, prompting you to ramble on.

“I’m sorry. To be candid, I thought Soap and Ghost were your dogs..." you say trailing off at the end.

To be fair, he had only ever been to your place. You stare at Soap and Ghost. Based on the small amount of information you knew, you had just assumed...

John lets out a deep laugh and pulls you closer into his side.

“What?” Soap yells. He’s no longer checking you out appreciatively and just looks at you in disbelief. “How could you think that, lassie?”

“Well, John seems like a man who lives alone with two big dogs that have manly names.” You explain, sinking more into John’s side, trying to embed yourself into this warmth.

His thumb lightly strokes your back, sending shivers up your spine. He's so big and strong and... Your brain turns to mush for a second.

“Well, what about Gaz?” Soap gestures to said man, trying desperately to make any ground in this. Your push away your vaguely horny thoughts. You have to lock back in for Kyle's sake. You smile at Gaz and politely extend your hand.

“No, I knew Kyle was a man. A pleasure to meet you.” Gaz shakes your hand and beams while Soap slumps over, and Ghost looks like he’s rethinking how he got here.

“Need to work on your manners. That way when Captain talks about you, people don’t think you're dogs,” Gaz says drawing out and emphasizing dogs with a cheeky smile. Soap just grumbles.

“Anyway,” you start to say, turning your attention back to John. “My friends and I are about to take that booth back there, but thank you for the offer. But call me. Or text.” He nods and leans in to press a quick, chaste to your lips.

“Have a good night, Sweetheart.” You nod before going to finally claim your booth.

You hear Soap ask why John ‘calls Kyle by his name but not me or Simon’, making you smile. They seem nice.

And then you hear what you assume to be Ghost, say, “Not bad, Captain. Not bad at all.”

You preen at that, chipper mood carrying you through the night, even as your friends bombard you with questions once they’re all seated.

You wave shyly at John and his friends when they eventually file out into the cold. John sends you a wink that has you sinking into the booth. You’re so fucked.

About 15 minutes later, your phone buzzes.

Can’t stop thinking about you, angel

Apparently, he’s fucked too.

#john price x reader #cod x reader #john price smut #cod smut #captain price x reader #captain price smut #its such a dumb joke #im sorry its been stuck in my head tho LMAO #when Soap says “What?!” i need you all to know im hearing the Oscar Proud echoey “WHAT” when he's off camera #no one will know what that means but its important to me

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i2sunric · 16 hours ago

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𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 (p.js)

PAIRING: hades!jay x persephone!reader

SUMMARY: labelled as unable of being loved, jay decides to steal a mortal to rule his realm with. what he hasn’t expected, though, is that it wasn’t you who he kidnapped, you had stolen his heart.

WARNINGS: kidnapping, enemies to lovers (but only reader hates jay), greek mythology, mentions of other idols as Gods, kisses. lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 22nd December 2024

WC: 3.5k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @cloud-lyy @who-tf-soddhi (oneshot) @monstaxdirtywonk @love4choso @heechwe

a/n: guess who’s back, back again. lol, i’m so happy with how this turned out! and i sincerely hope y’all like it too 🩷 have some nice holidays!

The gods of Olympus were never silent. Their laughter and taunts echoed across the heavens, filling their golden halls with noise and light.

Among them, Hades — so few knew him as Jay — was the quiet shadow in their midst.

Rarely did he grace their celebrations, his duties below pulling him away from the vanity of their world.

But he wasn't deaf to their jests.

“He'll never know love," Hermes — whose former name was Jungwon — had said to one banquet, leaning onto his caduceus with a smirk.

"Who would want to walk in those dark halls with him?" Aphrodite chimed in, her melodic laughter cutting through the room.

Jay had sat silent, his face impassive, but their words lodged deep within him.

He had never been a creature of longing— his domain demanded stern control, not vulnerability. And yet, as centuries passed, a hollow ache had begun to grow.

Perhaps the others were right. Perhaps he would remain alone. But then, there was the smallest flicker of rebellion within him.

“Let them doubt me," he whispered, his voice cold as the mist of the Styx. "I will find someone who can see me for what I really am."

♡.

Jay seldom visited the mortal world. It was too loud, too bright, too alive.

But something had pulled him there that day, a whisper in the back of his mind, a tenuous tug he could not ignore. And so, he walked among the mortals, his dark robes altered to blend in with their simple garb.

The sun beat above, merciless. Apollo — also known as Heeseung — really enjoyed making mundanes suffer. Mortals bustled around him, their voices a cacophony of trivial concerns.

He had nearly given up, retreating toward the shaded edge of a golden orchard, when his eyes fell on you.

You stood beneath an ancient apple tree, reaching up toward the highest branches.

Your hands grasped the fruit carefully, inspecting each apple before placing it in your basket.

The sun played in your hair, catching the edges of your figure like a halo. But it wasn't your beauty that arrested him; it was the way you moved— with confidence, with purpose.

Suddenly, a strange thought assailed him: You belonged in no one's shadow. It seemed as if not even the apple’s shadow could make you lose your spark.

A step closer he came, and almost faltered. You laughed softly as you took a bite of the sweet fruit, a slice of sound that cut through the din around him. Something in his chest stirred. An unfamiliar pull, sharp and insistent.

Before he knew better, he acted.

The earth had shaken beneath your feet, and you had stood stock-still, startled.

A chill had saturated the air, unnatural and heavy. You turned, your gaze darting around for the source, but the orchard had fallen silent.

Then the earth rent asunder. Shadows poured from it, twisting and coiling like living things. Swimming around you like water would from a waterfall.

Up from the chasm rose a chariot of black iron, its wheels spinning silently above the broken earth. The horses were ghostly, their eyes glowing like dying embers.

Your breath caught in your throat as a figure stepped from the chariot, the bitten apple falling on the ground, rolling. He was cloaked in darkness, his hood obscuring his face, but his presence was overwhelming.

Power radiated from him, pressing down on your chest like a physical weight.

"Who—" Your voice broke, trembling with fear and defiance. "Who are you?"

He didn't answer, only lifted a hand. The shadows surged forward, binding your legs like chains. You cried out, struggling against them, but they held fast.

"Let me go!" you shouted, anger flashing through your terror.

Jay raised a brow; he moved closer, and for the first time, you caught a glimpse of his face beneath the hood.

His features were sharp, almost otherworldly, and his eyes were a cold, unyielding gray.

"I cannot," he whispered, and then before you could reply, he took you into his embrace.

You struggled against him, your fists pounding against his chest, but it was like hitting stone. He stepped back onto the chariot, holding you fast as the horses reared and plunged into the chasm.

The world above disappeared in a swirl of darkness as you lost your senses.

♡.

When you awoke, you were no longer in the orchard.

The air was cool and heavy, carrying a faint metallic tang that sent shivers down your spine.

You sat up slowly, your heart pounding as you took in your surroundings. The chamber was huge, its walls carved from gleaming black stone that seemed to drink in the dim red light emanating from the ceiling.

And there, sat on an obsidian throne on the other end of the room, was him.

He watched you intently— his hood discarded, with pale skin and a face chiseled, striking yet severe. His dark eyes felt to see right through you, and you hated the way your breath caught under his gaze.

Hades. Ruler of the Underworld.

"Why?" you demanded, your voice hoarse. You stood shakily, glaring at him. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I needed a queen," he said simply, as if that explanation was enough.

You laughed bitterly, the sound echoing off the walls. "A queen? You think I'd ever agree to rule this… this pit with you?"

His expression didn't change, though you could have sworn you saw a flicker of something in his eyes-annoyance, perhaps, or amusement.

"You misunderstand," he said, his voice calm but firm. "You don't have a choice."

That struck a nerve. Your hands curled into fists, and despite the fear twisting in your gut, you stepped closer. "No one owns me," you hissed. "Not you, not anyone.”

For the first time, his calm cracked.

He rose with a slow, deliberate movement, and all the weight of his presence came down on you.

"I am Hades," he said, his voice thundering with power. "God of the Underworld, you are here because I chose you, and you will learn to accept that."

Your heart hammered in your chest, but you refused to back down. "And if I don't?"

The silence hung heavy between you for a moment. Then, to your surprise, he looked away. "Then you'll remain here as my prisoner. Either way, you belong to me now."

You swallowed hard, anger and fear warring within you. But one thought rose above the rest: You will not let him break you.

With the snap of his fingers, two servants in the form of a skeleton appeared in front of you. They looked at you with their void eyes and then turned around, walking.

You glanced up at Jay, who only beckoned you to follow them.

A scoff escaped your lips as you did just that, anything would be better than staying in the same room as him.

The skeleton's bones made a funny noise as they walked you down the neve -ending hallways. The castle was huge, crimson coated the walls as well as dark black.

“So,” you cleared your throat “Is your boss always like that? Or does he change expressions sometimes?” you tried to joke, but the skeletons didn’t reply.

Of course, they didn’t even have lips, “You can’t tell me anything, uh? Not even where the exit is?”

They just stopped in front of a door, opening it for you. Taking the hint, you slowly stepped inside, cautious.

The chamber was so spacious for only one person, a bed stood in the middle of the room, its sheets a dark shade of red.

The walls were coated with drawings of black dahlias, the ceiling so high it made you think the room never actually ended.

The skeletons closed the door behind your back, leaving you there, alone.

You walked to the bed, sitting on its edge. At least, the mattress was soft, the sheets silk and warm.

You finally allowed a sob to escape your lips, another followed and then another again.

Gods always did what they wanted, never truly considering someone’s feelings. You hated them, but more than anything, you hated Hades.

Your fingers gripped the sheets, if he wanted a wife, you’d show him just what you were made of.

♡.

The tension hung between you like a storm cloud.

Jay had come to visit you when you woke up, followed by a skeleton that placed a trail of pomegranate on your bed.

You didn’t know how much you slept, neither of it was morning or night. The Underworld had no light.

“I hope the chamber is of your likings.” He spoke after an awkward silence. You dared glance at him, but daren’t reply.

Jay let out a soft sigh, “It is the only fruit that grows in my realm, if you want anything in particular, I’ll have one of my servants fetch you something from the orchard in the Olympus.”

Finally, you reached down, picking up the pomegranate. Its scent was sweet, and the faint shimmer of the seeds made them look like tiny jewels.

Usually, you’d go crazy for the bittersweet fruit, but the Underworld made even that look dead, poisonous.

You turned it in your hands as if inspecting it. "And what if I refuse to eat?" you asked, tone sharp.

Jay's lips quirked in what might have been amusement, though it was fleeting. "You won't," he said simply, his voice soft but sure.

Your glare deepened. "How do you know?"

"Because you don't hate life," he said. "Even here, in this place you claim to despise, you'll find a reason to keep going.”

The words struck deeper than you wanted to admit. You opened your mouth to fire back a retort, but no words came.

You picked up one of the seeds between your fingers, observing the way the surface shimmered before finally placing it into your mouth.

The flavor burst on your tongue, sweet and tart, and for a moment, you were reminded of the orchards above— the sun on your skin, the breeze in your hair, the simple joy of being free.

Jay watched you in silence, his expression unreadable. When you finally set the pomegranate down, he inclined his head slightly. "I'll leave you to your evening," he said, turning to go.

So, it was evening.

But before he could go, your voice stopped him. "Wait."

He turned back; his eyes were steady but questioning.

"Why do you keep trying?" you asked, quieter now. "Why not just leave me to my misery? Use me just for your plans?” after all, it would be typical of the Gods.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, stepping closer, he spoke in a voice so soft it barely carried across the room, “Because I've spent eternity surrounded by shadows, and for the first time, there's a light here."

His words had left you speechless for a moment. He bowed his head slightly and then left the room, the door clicking softly behind him.

♡.

The Underworld had a strange beauty to it, though you’d fought to see it.

The palace gardens, in particular, drew your attention on restless nights— or days. They were like nothing you’d ever encountered in the mortal world.

The flowers glowed faintly, their petals a soft silver-blue, and streams of water that sparkled like liquid starlight wove between them.

It was here, one evening, that you sat on a stone bench, your eyes fixed on the ghostly blooms. You didn't hear Jay approach until he spoke.

"You come here often," he said, his voice quiet.

You startled slightly but didn't turn. "I don't have many options," you replied, your tone still edged with defiance.

You had tried to wander around the castle, and Jay let you, but whenever you came too close to the exit, a puddle of shadows rose from the ground and brought you back to your chamber.

Jay sat beside you, leaving enough space to show he wasn't trying to intrude. He looked out at the garden, his gray eyes contemplative. "These flowers," he said after a moment, "Only grow here, nowhere else in existence."

You glanced at him, surprised by the hint of pride in his voice. "You care about them?"

"They're life in a place where life shouldn't exist," he said simply.

The words hung in the air between you, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of understanding: the Underworld wasn't just a prison to him— it was a responsibility, a realm he nurtured despite its darkness.

It was the realm given to him by his father, and it was his job to keep it going, no matter how much he despised it.

After a moment, you exhaled, leaning back slightly. "Why do you do that?"

He looked at you, brow furrowed. "Do what?

“Say things that make it hard to hate you,” you said, a faint, reluctant smile tugging at your lips.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, perhaps weeks or months. Time seemed to flow slower there.

But you thought it would be easier to hate him, had he been scarier and less gentle. His sharp edges always seemed to soften whenever you walked into the room, and his clothes clung to his form, revealing a body any girl from your village would go crazy about.

Not that you stared at it too much, of course.

To your surprise, Jay’s lips curved into a faint smile of his own. “I thought you’d hate me forever.”

“I’m still considering it,” you shot back, though the teasing note in your voice was unmistakable.

Jay chuckled softly, the sound low and unfamiliar. For the first time, the weight between you seemed to lift, if only slightly.

“Will you ever let me see the light again? The orchard?” or your family. Would your parents be worried, or had Jay already cast a spell on them?

“Depends,” he spoke, “Will you run away if I do.” fair point. The moment the sun kissed your skin again, you were sure you wouldn’t step inside this gloomy castle anymore.

Seeing your lack of reply, Jay just got up and turned around, murmuring “That’s what I thought.”

And for a seconds, you thought you saw something like hurt flicker in his eyes.

♡.

More time passed, and though you had resisted at first, you found yourself softening toward Jay. He had a quiet strength about him, a steady patience that wore down your walls like water against stone.

You spent most of your days in the library. Though your eyes weren’t used to the light anymore, your imagination worked just as fine.

You daydreamed of the life outside the suffocating walls of the Underworld’s castle, you dreamed of someone rescuing you.

And sometimes — but just sometimes — you fantasised about Jay, and his heart made of iron.

One night, as you sat by the fire in the great hall, he joined you, a small bundle wrapped in dark cloth clutched in his hand. "I have something for you," he said; his voice held a rare note of uncertainty. You lifted an eyebrow, curiosity pricked despite yourself. "Another 'gesture'?"

"Of a sort," he said. He unwrapped the bundle, revealing a delicate necklace of silver and black opals.

The stones shimmered like starlight, their glow faint but mesmerizing.

You stared at it, then at him. "Why?"

"It reminded me of you," he said simply. "Strong.. luminous, unyielding."

Your heart skipped a beat, though you fought to keep your expression neutral. "You think flattery will make me forgive you?"

"No," he said, holding the necklace out to you. "But it's the truth."

You hesitated, then reached out to take it. The metal was cool against your skin and for a moment, an odd sense of belonging overtook you, like this place, this moment wasn't entirely foreign.

"Thank you," you said softly and surprised yourself.

Jay's eyes relaxed, and for the first time, you saw not the god who had stolen you but the man beneath— the one who had spent centuries in solitude, yearning for connection.

for someone understanding, someone to love. Perhaps, you could learn to be just that.

You handed the necklace back to him, he looked at it, hurt. He thought you had rejected his gift, but as you turned around and held your hair up, his breath hitched.

“Would you help me put it on?” you questioned, your voice soft, unlike the usual bite it held.

“Of course.” Jay murmured quietly, his touch gentle as he put the jewel around your neck.

It fit perfectly, the dark necklace adorning your once tanned skin.

You smiled. holding it between your fingers, “It’s beautiful.”

He smiled.

Your eyes widened when he took in the sight, he smiled so warmly, and for a moment he even looked human.

“You’re beautiful.” Jay spoke, his voice so soft.

“Hades—“ You said, but he shook his head “Call me Jay.”

You gulped, the room suddenly feeling too hot, “Jay.” you repeated, the name rolling sweetly down your tone.

He let out a soft groan, like it both pained and healed him.

“I know you keep thinking ‘Why me?’” He murmured, caressing your cheek. The first time his skin met yours voluntarily “But for me, it has always been you— from the moment I saw you picking those apples, my heart belonged to you.”

You didn’t even have time to think about it, but your feet went on their tip-toes as you pressed your soft lips on his.

To say he was taken aback was an understatement. His eyes wide as body rigid, and for a moment you thought if maybe, he didn’t love you as much as he claimed.

But then, his hand held your face, the other tangled in your hair as his own lips moved on yours passionately.

Your fingers curled around his shirt, grounding you as uou got lost in the taste of him.

You took the hand that was on your cheek and guided it to rest on your racing heart, “Maybe you have the same effect on me.” You murmured on his lips.

His eyes darkened and he pulled away, “Will you marry me?”

You blinked faintly, your breath hitching at his straight-forwardness.

“Do I have a choice?” He stepped away, his breath still heavy from the kiss, “Yes— yes, I’m giving it to you right now.”

Your brows furrowed, so he added “If you think your future still belongs in the Olympus, then go. The door is actually just around the throne room.”

Jay gulped, hope flickering in his usually gloomy eyes “But if you have some sense of future here, with me, then stay. Stay and let me be your husband.”

You clenched your jaw and looked at the door of the throne room. If you exited it and followed the long hallway, you would be out.

You would see the light, feel the sun tickle your skin, see your family, your friends.

But you weren’t sure that was what you wanted anymore.

Your eyes set again on Jay. His expression had lost hope, like he had already lost.

But you smirked, crossing your arms over your chest “So,” you cleared your throat “When’s the wedding?”

A smile, brother than Apollo’s sun lit up his face as he closed the distance he had put and claimed your lips once more.

“Whenever you want, Y/N.”

♡.

In time, the Underworld became your home. Though the darkness remained, it no longer felt oppressive. The palace, once cold and foreign, now echoed with your laughter. And Jay, once a figure of hate, had become something else entirely.

One day, as you stood by the garden's edge, watching the silver streams flow, he approached you. His steps were quiet, but you felt his presence before you turned.

"You've changed this place," he said, his voice filled with quiet reverence.

You looked at him, a faint smile playing on your lips. "And you've changed me.

He reached out and took your hand in his, holding it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on the ring. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you heavy with meaning.

Then he bowed his head slightly, his voice a low murmur "Will you teach me how to love you right?”

You looked at him, at the man who had once been your captor but was now so much more.

Slowly, you nodded. "I will."

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muffinmuffinx3 · 5 hours ago

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Honestly I have seen a lot of people posting about, replying to and frankly attacking my partner @thekaratcake-blog because of the opinions she holds. She always tries to reason with them or try to explain the situation and help them learn from their mistakes, or at least try to change their ways for the better, but it literally almost always devolves into the person insulting her which is really shitty. I thought this site was one of the good ones, I still like to think so, but lately I've seen more and more of people like this, and it's upsetting me quite a lot, especially since my wonderful girlfriend has to waste her time with people who just absolutely do not deserve even a minute of their time. I still want to stay here for the meams and wholesome posting with my luv, but I'm trying to find ways to understand some of these people and I just absolutely cannot achieve that. It's really sad to see some people either too deep in their beliefs, or people who want to just spread misinformation for the sake of ragebait or just trying to "spread the truth". It's genuinely really harmful for the many communities on this site and I think it's just stupid :<

That's it for my little rant, as always I love and adore chu @thekaratcake-blog and I hope the situation on this site will change for the better in the future :> 💜

this website is increasingly going down the shitter as it becomes more and more openly transparent that if you hold beliefs that go against the zeitgeist of the average white liberal fandom blogger you are just straight up at risk of having your entire account permanently nuked. the thinnest skinned people on the planet have made this place their home and would honestly rather there was not a single person outside of their exact demographic posting here if it meant they never had to see anything that caused them a single second of discomfort. digital redlining. and yet there is fucking nowhere else to post! so who knows what to do really

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eiralunaire · 22 hours ago

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Headcanos of Damian Wayne.

1. Small Gestures of Tenderness.

Although Damian would never admit it out loud, he always feels inexplicably more relaxed when he's around his girlfriend. He often watches her in silence, observing the small details, like the way she laughs, her expression when she's focused, or how she always has something to say, even when she doesn't feel like talking. There's something about those moments that makes him feel, for the first time in his life, that war and fighting aren't everything.

2. Defender of Her Well-Being.

Damian, who has been trained to be cold and calculating, can't help but become extremely protective when it comes to her. If someone looks at her wrong, even in jest, he'll step in without thinking, making it clear with his gaze (and sometimes his threat of "don't do it again") that no one can hurt her. He's convinced that it's his responsibility to take care of her, but it's more of an internal desire to make sure nothing bad ever happens to her.

3. The Typical Sarcastic and Jealous Behavior.

When it comes to other men, Damian is relentless. Although he would never express it in an obvious way, he feels extremely uncomfortable if any kind of unwanted attention is directed towards his girlfriend. It is common for his sarcastic tone to appear when some guy talks too close to her. "Really? Do you think she wants to hear that?" he would say, with an almost imperceptible smile on his lips, as he takes a step forward.

4. Thoughtful (albeit weird) Gifts.

He is not the type of boyfriend to buy expensive jewelry or flowers (because he doesn't know how those things work), but what he does do is remember the little details about what his girlfriend likes. One day, unbeknownst to her, Damian shows up with a rare book she mentioned in a casual conversation, or with that chocolate she is known to like a lot. The truth is, he's become an expert at listening to her, not just because of his tactical intelligence, but because he genuinely wants to please her, even if his way of showing it is... unconventional.

5. Intimate Moments of Vulnerability.

When Damian is with his girlfriend, his guard is down in ways that only happen with her. It can be something as simple as watching a movie together, or lying next to her after a long day of training, but in those moments, he doesn't have to live up to his last name or his lineage. It's just him, Damian Wayne, simply enjoying her company. It's a luxury he doesn't usually get with anyone else, but with her, it's something that constantly draws him in and comforts him.

6. Interactions with His Family.

Despite his reserved attitude, Damian has found himself talking more to his family about his girlfriend, albeit in a slightly brusque manner. With Bruce, for example, his attitude towards her is a kind of possessiveness that makes it clear that he wants her in his life, but he also knows that his father will never really understand what he feels. With Alfred, however, he seems more relaxed, because he knows that the butler sees what he sometimes can't recognize: how happy their relationship makes him.

7. Subtle but Efficient Jealousy.

Damian can't help but show jealousy, although he does it in a subtle and almost childish way. For example, if his girlfriend talks a lot with another guy (even if he's a close friend), he may make comments like: "Since when are you so interested in what he has to say?" or suddenly offer to take her back to her apartment, as if there was some "urgent" business to attend to, to prevent her from staying too long with that person. It's his way of saying "I want you all to myself" without having to say it directly.

8. He Likes Deep Conversations.

Damian isn’t a man of many words, but when he’s with his girlfriend, he finds it easy to open up and share things he never thought he’d say. He likes to talk to her about topics that have nothing to do with war or fighting, like his views on the future or what he thinks about life. Sometimes, he catches himself talking more than he planned, but he doesn’t mind, because he knows he can be vulnerable with her, something he’s learned to deeply appreciate.

9. The Vulnerability of Being “The Man”.

When he’s with her, Damian feels weird about not being able to show off everything he knows how to do. I mean, with his combat skills and tactical intelligence, he could defend her from anything, but what really attracts him to her is how she calms him down and makes him feel more human. In her mind, that makes him more than just Bruce Wayne’s son or trained assassin. He makes her feel a little more normal, like any other guy in love, and that thought baffles him, but he loves it at the same time.

10. Sudden Moments of Insecurity.

Despite all his training and his confident facade, Damian sometimes feels insecure in their relationship. There are times when he doubts himself: Is he really up to par with her? Will he be enough for someone like her, who has so much to offer? Although he would never admit it, he has those moments of uncertainty that make him more human. However, as time goes on, he realizes that all he really needs to do is be himself, and sometimes, even a more vulnerable and caring Damian can be what attracts her the most.

11. The Unspoken "I Protect You".

Although he never says it outright, Damian is obsessed with the idea of protecting her. If she is ever sad, he turns into a wall of ice, willing to face anything to make her feel safe. This leads to more possessive behavior, but he doesn't see it that way. It's his way of showing her that even though he's not the traditional boyfriend type, he'll always be there for her, even if that means walking away from conflict and just offering his company.

#damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #dcu #dc comics

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potatoplace · 2 days ago

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I Don't Feel Alive

The Afterthought: Chapter 4 | series masterlist

ACOTAR x Archeron!Reader

part 3 | part 5 | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: Starfall means dress shopping, and dress shopping means spending time with Nesta and Elain... the celebration is its own set of challenges that you struggle with.

Warnings: Body shaming, toxic family, slight disordered eating, suicidal ideation, self-deprecating thoughts (let me know if I missed anything)

Words: ~9.2k

Author's Note: it's heeeere I didn't get quite as far into the story as I wanted, but this was a good cut off point too. I really hope you guys like this one! I don't think I made it quite angsty enough, but there's still some. Plus a lil fluff to start. Enjoy! p.s. let me know who you think Y/N will end up with! Or anything else you have to say 🫶

18+ only pls

🤍🤍❣️🤍🤍

Your dreams were soft and fuzzy, filled with hazy scenes of you laying in bed and cuddling with your sisters, just like you had every night so long ago.

Waking felt similar, your body cocooned by soft blankets and warm arms, your own wrapped around someone's torso. You took a deep breath before opening your eyes, blinking them a few times to adjust to the sunlight filtering in through the curtains.

Mor's face was laying on the pillow in front of you, still relaxed with sleep. She looked even prettier like this, without stress and her busy schedule hanging over her.

You slowly unwrapped your arms from around her, taking care to not wake her. She deserved the extra sleep, with how much time she was going to be spending in the Hewn City through the end of the year.

You rolled onto your back, Mor's arms tightening around you as you did. It felt nice, being held again. In the past two years, you had forgotten how lovely it was to wake up feeling safe, snuggled up with your sisters.

The sound of Mor's soft, even breaths nearly lulled you asleep, before your eyes flew open.

Shoot! You had forgotten Nuala and Cerridwen's Solstice presents...

Mor's arms were gently pried from your body, which was harder to do than you had anticipated, but you managed without waking her.

You pulled on a dressing gown and quietly grabbed the two bags containing their presents. Your bedroom door snicked shut behind you, and you padded down the hallway, down the stairs, and to their bedroom. One knock had the door swinging open, this time greeted by Cerridwen.

"Y/N? Did you need something?" The wraith asked, her eyes widening slightly when she saw the presents in your hand. "Oh, you didn't have to do that, Y/N," she said, letting you into their room.

"But I wanted to, both of you have been so wonderful to me. And I already got them for you, so you have to open them," you insisted, placing each bag in their new owner's hands.

Nuala shook her head but opened her present anyways, a wide smile overtaking her face. "This is wonderful Y/N! Oh and you even got me metal threads, how did you know?!" The wraith embraced you tightly in her arms.

"And you remembered me complaining about my needles, oh mother, Y/N, you are the most thoughtful person!" Cerrdiwen exclaimed, stealing you from her sister's arms. "You will be the first person I make something for," she said after she loosened her hold on you.

"You don't need to do that..."

Cerridwen looked at you sharply. "Yes I do, and I will. Would you prefer a hat or scarf first? Oh, I'll just make you both," she finished, not giving you time to answer.

"Thank you in advance, I suppose," you said, blush dusting your cheeks. "I'm glad both of you liked your gifts."

"Of course we do! You pay so much attention to what you buy for people, it's so sweet," Nuala said kindly.

A heavier blush rose to your cheeks at their sweet words. "I just like to make people happy. Speaking of which, I should get back to Mor-"

"Back to me? But I'm right here!" Mor said brightly from behind you, causing you to jump in shock. "Sorry, Y/N, did I scare you?" Mor's arms wrapped around you from behind. "You left me, so I came down to find you. Want to do breakfast before everyone returns?"

You nodded in agreement, but turned your eyes to the twins. "Do you want to join us?"

"I'd love to," Nuala said, and Cerridwen nodded her head before replying the same.

"Girls' breakfast! Let's go!" Mor exclaimed, pulling you out of the twins' room, down the hall, and into the kitchen.

The twins trailed behind at a less excited pace, and met the two of you in the kitchen as Mor was pulling food out of the cold box. Bacon, sausages, eggs, broccoli, and cheese were taken out, and the four of you began making breakfast- most likely too much food for the four of you, but Mor insisted that once Cassian had returned he would eat any food that was left over.

You provided the tea, rushing upstairs to pick out an orange and ginger tea.

Breakfast with the three of them was lovely, only kind words and soft smiles being exchanged between you. It was much more peaceful than most of the meals you had taken at the dining table, and for that you were grateful.

Your sisters, their mates, and Azriel returned while the four of you were still gathered round the table, talking over the last of the second pot of tea you'd made.

"Good morning, ladies," Rhys said as he slipped into one of the chairs, pulling a glowing Feyre into his lap a moment later. "Did you have a good breakfast?"

You nodded in response, but it was Mor who spoke. "Yes, in a team effort we made far too much food. What about you lot?"

"It was good, but there wasn't enough," Cassian complained as he sat down, plucking a piece of bacon off of a plate. You smiled at his antics, you'd always found it funny how the male never seemed to be truly full.

"There's never enough for you, Cass," Nesta said as she took the seat next to him- directly across from you- and glared hard enough at you that the small smile on your face fell off in an instant.

"That's true, even though he devoured all of the sweets you gave him, Y/N, he was asking for more the moment they were gone," Lucien laughed as he did the same as Rhys, pulling Elain into his lap in the chair next to yours.

Fear clutched at your heart, though you knew it shouldn't. But the thought of Cassian enjoying the sweets you had made so much that he asked for more... You were scared of how Nesta might retaliate this time.

You tried to keep your breathing even as the conversation passed from one ear to the other, no words registering as they spoke.

"Y/N?" Feyre's soft voice broke through, pulling you out of your worried heart and back into the moment. "You're still up to go dress shopping with us tomorrow, right?"

Your eyes flicked up to her, then to her mate behind her who had a stern look on his face. You forced your eyes back to her slightly worried ones, focusing on the gentle blue that you'd known your whole life. "Uhm... Yes, I am," you managed to respond once you had played the question over in your head.

"Good! We were all thinking that noon would be a fine time to leave, that way the three of us can sleep in a bit after the revel tonight. Does that sound good to you?"

You could feel Nesta's burning gaze and Elain's judgemental eyes on you, stoking the fire of your fear.

"That sounds fine to me, Feyre," you replied, fingers working nervously over the painted irises on your teacup, focusing on the tiny ridges that the paint had created, your gaze now trained on them.

Better than seeing the hatred in Nesta's eyes.

"Perfect! Now that that's settled, I think we should all get to perfecting the revel for tonight," Feyre said, causing movement from all around the table.

Except you.

You sat, staring at your teacup until everyone was gone, disappeared off to their rooms or offices, or wherever they needed to be.

That left you to clear the plates, quickly washing the dishes and leaving them to dry in the rack. Your teapot was dried by hand, and filled with tea leaves and hot water once more. Thankfully you were able to retreat to your room without question, letting you escape back into your fantasy world you had created in your mind. Away from Nesta and Elain's combined ire, combined disdain for your very existence.

The lovely jasmine tea Azriel had gifted you helped you forget where you were, nearly convincing yourself you were back in the human lands, sipping tea in the living room with your father as you watched snow fall and bury that tiny little shack, falling asleep to the thought of it in your arm chair.

🤍🤍💔🤍🤍

The next morning, you forced yourself from the arm chair, stretching out your neck as you did.

Somehow, it was less comfortable than sleeping in the bathtub.

Your soreness abated as you slid into steaming water, bubbling with rose scented soap- something that you were absolutely delighted by, loving that no matter what, your body was completely covered by bubbles. You hardly caught sight of your skin at all, though you knew with the day's plans, you would be forced to confront how your body had changed.

You could feel it, every now and then. The way your bones protruded just a bit more than they had a month ago. How your joints got sore from sitting or laying faster than before. How pale you had become compared to this time last year, when you had a slight glow to your skin.

This year, you were pasty. As though you had been locked away from the sun the entire time.

A sigh left your lips as you finished your skincare, the one act of kindness to yourself that you always made time for.

Your body didn't matter. It's not as though you would find someone in Prythian. After all, fae and humans shouldn't mix...

Feyre had said something similar to you, so long ago about your past crush on Cassian.

Thankfully in that time, only one person had caught your eye... And you were certain that Irina would never stoop so low as to date you of all people.

Another long breath, lungs deflating.

No, you were here to be alone. Mor and Feyre had begun trying to engage with you, for that you were grateful. They were keeping you from losing all hope once more, and it was all you could do to keep that flame alive.

Especially knowing that your own issues with your body would be added to by whatever Nesta and Elain deigned to say to you. Feyre may have told them to behave, but that wouldn't stop them from throwing barbs at you, thinly veiled by concern or 'opinion.'

Your cycle had finished the night before, leaving you tired but free of its scent, which you were overly thankful for. Mor's present was very nice, but you did not want to try the underwear out while dress shopping with your sisters.

You forced yourself to get dressed and headed out of your room, noting the time on the clock in the hallway. Half past eleven.

That should be enough time for a pot of tea, maybe taken in the kitchen? Or should you retreat to your room...?

You turned around and headed back to your room for a packet of tea leaves, this one a plain green tea. After grabbing it, you made your way downstairs, ears listening for any sign of life.

Perhaps they were all asleep still, exhausted from the revel the night before.

The kitchen was empty when you entered it, and you quickly set to making your tea. A few minutes later you were sat at the island in the kitchen, a cushioned stool beneath you. The tea was lovely and calming, it's clean, slightly sea scented aroma perfect for clearing your head.

That was until Nesta and Elain sauntered in, already talking about what dress styles and colors they were hoping to find today. Their conversation didn't stop once as they walked straight past you and into the living room, the only evidence of them noticing you was the feeling of their eyes on your back.

Suddenly, your heart wasn't so calm.

Feyre walked in a minute later, rushing over to you once she saw you seated at the island. "How are you?"

"I'm... I'm okay. How are you, Fey? How's the baby?"

"Oh I'm just fine, baby was being a little fussy earlier but they're all settled now. Are you ready to leave?"

You finished the rest of your tea in a few quick gulps, enjoying the feeling of warmth it brought, and stood from your stool. "I just need to wash this, and then I'm ready," you said, already making your way to the kitchen sink. That was done in a flash, and soon Feyre was ushering the three of you out the door, Nesta and Elain immediately locking arms and taking the lead. You and Feyre trailed after them, your own arms locked together after Feyre forced her elbow around yours, smiling at you when you looked at her.

All too soon, you arrived at the dress store in the middle of the Palace of Thread and Jewels, greeted by the owner, Tarin.

"Ah, the High Lady and her sisters! This is a lucky day for me, that's for sure," Tarin exclaimed as she approached Feyre, clasping their hands together. "What can I help the four of you with?"

"We're looking for dresses for Starfall, I know we're cutting it a bit close-"

"Oh, nonsense! For the High Lady, even the day of Starfall is not too close. Please, look around and pick out what interests you, we can have them altered if need be," Tarin said, waving her arms at the racks upon racks of dresses filling the shop. "I can also have them made up in different colors, and with any variations of fabrics you may like. Any way I can please you, my dears, and I am happy to do it."

Nesta and Elain set into the sea of fabric together, keeping close to each other as they picked through the racks. You stayed near Feyre, feeling wildly out of your depth.

Shopping for Solstice was one thing, it was shopping for those you cared for. But this...

This was shopping for yourself, and you struggled more with that. Buying the hairpin that you currently had twisted in your hair was a rare action, and one of the first non-practical purchase you had made for yourself since coming to Velaris.

"How about this one?" Feyre asked you, drawing you from your thoughts as she waved a dark purple dress in front of you, it's long sleeves waving as she did so.

"It's pretty," you said absentmindedly, staring at the way the fabric shimmered in the light.

"Do you want to try it on?"

Your eyes snapped up to Feyre's. "Me?"

Feyre laughed softly. "Yes, you. The cut is similar to dresses you've worn before, and you like purple, right?"

You looked back down at the dress, taking in the modest bodice and neckline, and the long length of the dress. "I like the design, but I think I'd prefer a lighter color, Fey," you said politely, but grabbed the dress anyway. "I'll try it on, though."

"That sounds fine, we could always get it made in a lilac color if you'd like," Feyre suggested, her hands already moving over more dresses. "You can go put that at the dressing rooms, then come back and look for more, okay?"

You nodded and did as she suggested, returning to her side and half-heartedly looking over the dresses hung in front of you.

Many of them were far too revealing for your comfort, with low necklines and slits up the thigh. You did find a few you thought Feyre may like, gowns that reminded you of the shimmering night sky, and showed them to her when you happened across them.

"Oh, I love this one," Feyre gushed when she saw one you had handed her, this one a dark blue silk with a smattering of silver stars embroidered across the chest and stomach, with a sweetheart neckline. The length of the dress would like reach her mid thigh, and hang just slightly on the tiny bump that was forming on Feyre's stomach. "What do you think?" She asked, holding the dress up to her body. "High Lady of Night enough?"

Even held against her body, the dress looked perfect for her. "Definitely. You should try it on, Fey," you suggested.

"Hmm... I think I will, Y/N. Are you ready to try yours on? I think we've both got a decent number," Feyre said, slowly walking with you to the back of the shop, where the dressing rooms were located.

"I am, I think," you replied, though you were unsure of being anywhere within a ten foot radius of Nesta. Especially if she couldn't find a dress she liked...

Thankfully at the moment, Nesta and Elain were both in their own dressing rooms, trying on whichever ones they had picked out.

You and Feyre entered your own curtained room, the dresses that you had picked out hung on the hooks inside.

A quiet sigh, and you set to undressing yourself. There was no mirror in here, likely to force people out to get recommendations from their friends. The purple dress that Feyre had found was the first you tried on, the soft fabric flowing down your body like water.

It clung too much.

That was your first impression of the dress, even with the modest neckline and hem length. The soft fabric seemed to be molded to your body, and even a cursory feel of your hands over your hips had you wishing you had rejected Feyre's offer to go shopping. You did not want to hear what Nesta would say about the slight show of your bones in the dress.

"Y/N, are you almost done? We're waiting for you," Feyre said softly from the other side of the curtain, and you forced yourself out of the dressing room. "Oh, you look lovely! I think the color looks nice on you," Feyre said kindly, even as her eyes lingered over the sharp edges of your shoulders, the noticeable bump of your hip bones.

"Do you eat?" Nesta asked sharply from across the room, her nose wrinkled as she took you in. "You look like you're still living in poverty, Y/N."

Blood rushed to your cheeks at her words. They were true, though. "I eat. I've just been..." you paused, trying to find a word that wouldn't irritate your sister. "Stressed."

Nesta scoffed, but shut her mouth at a stern look from Feyre.

"The color is nice, Y/N," Elain said weakly. You forced a smile in her direction.

"Thank you, Elain. Your dress is lovely, green is a wonderful color on you," you said, taking in the flowing layers of fabric that made up the skirt of the dress, all in varying shades of dark green.

"Thank you," Elain replied, but moved her gaze to Nesta. "Nes, your dress is gorgeous. I think you should stick with that one, no need to look for others. You look perfect," Elain said excitedly, so different from her reaction to you.

You tried not to let it sting, turning instead to Feyre. She was clad in a floor length dress in black, tiny diamonds sewn on in patterns that you thought were constellations. There was a slit up to her mid thigh on both sides, allowing her to move freely. "This one is beautiful Fey, you look stunning!"

"You think? I still want to try on that last one you picked out, but I really like this one," Feyre said. "Oh, and I may have put an extra dress in your dressing room, please just try it on, I think you'll really like it. It's the pink one on the left hand side. Just, try it," Feyre begged you softly before returning to her dressing room, Nesta and Elain already back in their own.

Your mouth set into a line, you entered the curtained room again. As she said, there was a glittering pink gown hung on the left hand side when you walked in. Your mouth fell into a frown at the neckline.

Entirely too scandalous for you.

But still, you forced yourself to shed the purple dress and shimmy into the pink one as Feyre had asked. The long, flowing sleeves were off the shoulder, connected to the bodice by a small amount of fabric. The neckline of the dress was far lower than you were normally comfortable with, showing more cleavage than you ever had. The dress was loose fitting past your chest, the flowing skirts moving beautifully as you examined them. The pale rose pink of the fabric was one of your favorites, and didn't wash out your complexion. A difficult task, with how pale you are at the moment.

You walked out of the dressing room and stood in front of the mirror, assessing the dress. Your shoulders were far too bony, but even so... You felt beautiful in the dress, like a princess. The skirts reached your feet, billowing out around you. The neckline was lower than you wanted... But it looked lovely, and really, wearing one low-necked dress in your lifetime would be fine. A turn in the mirror showed you your prominent scapulae, half hidden by the fabric of the dress. That could be fixed by styling your hair in large ringlets, enough to cover most of your back. But the gown... The gown was lovely.

"Oh, I knew you would look perfect in that one!" Feyre cheered when she exited her dressing room in the dress you had picked for her. "You look amazing! Please tell me this is the one you want?" Feyre asked, standing by you as both of you stared in the mirror.

"You don't think it's too...?" You gestured to the neckline. "Revealing?"

Feyre shook her head. "No, mother no. I've worn much worse, you have nothing to worry about. It's just a little bit different than usual, is all. And it's perfect on you."

You tried to believe Feyre, and you did like the dress...

But then Nesta walked out. Her eyes narrowed and nose wrinkled as she gave you a once over, obviously displeased with how you looked.

She was so good at that. Tearing you apart with just one look.

"Your shoulders stick out," Nesta remarked as she took her place in front of the mirror, looking herself over. Her dress was made of shiny silver fabric, a corset in the same fabric serving as the bodice with thick straps wrapping over the tops of her shoulders.

You ignored her comment as best you could. "You look amazing in that dress, Nesta. The corset fits you perfectly."

A cold look over her shoulders, followed by a clipped, "Thank you."

Elain came out of her dressing room last, this time clad in a cream colored dress, looking every bit like the bride she was always destined to be.

"Oh, Elain! You look wonderful!" You said brightly as you took a step toward her, stopping when her gaze hit you- cold as ice. "This one looks very nice on you, but the last one looked amazing too," you said, more nervous now.

"Thanks," she answered coolly, setting her eyes on Feyre. "Feyre, that dress is stunning on you, and very fitting for Starfall."

You nodded in agreement, the dress was perfect for her. And just like you thought, it just barely highlighted the tiny baby bump Feyre had. The sight of it made you smile.

You were overjoyed that your sister had found a loving partner in Rhys, and was looking forward to motherhood.

"Thank you, 'Lain, I really like that it shows my bump just a bit, I think Rhys and I are ready to let our court know that we're expecting at Starfall," Feyre said excitedly, a hand stroking her belly.

"That's amazing, Feyre," Nesta said softly, sounding the kindest she had since they had been taken by Hybern.

"You'll be the talk of Starfall," Elain said, holding Feyre's hands in her own. "I'm so excited for you and Rhys!"

"I don't want to make the biggest deal out of it, after all, it's still early, but... Rhys is so excited about finally being a father, I had to talk him down from telling the Hewn City residents about it last night," Feyre sighed. "I am glad that I'm going to have all of my sisters with me, supporting me along the way, though. Thank you all for coming shopping today," Feyre said tearily.

"Of course, Feyre," you said, taking her in your arms. "We're always going to be by your side."

Elain's arms followed next, barely touching you but clutching Feyre close. "Yeah, Fey, we'll always be with you. Right, Nes?"

"Of course. I will always be here for you, Feyre," Nesta said, and reluctantly wrapped her arms around Feyre and Elain, one hand just barely touching you.

When you all pulled away, Feyre was crying softly, tears streaming down her face. You grabbed tissues from a nearby table, dabbing away the tracks of starlight on her face. "It's okay, Feyre. We're all here."

"I-I know," Feyre sniffled. "I just... I love you all so much. I can't imagine life without any of you." She let you wipe her eyes, dabbing away the last of her tears after she collected herself. "Now, let's try on the rest of the dresses, we shouldn't waste too much of Miss Tarin's time."

The four of you continued to try on dresses, with much of the same behavior. You attempted to compliment your sisters, only to be met with cold responses. If they did talk to you, it was to point out how the dress didn't suit you.

You still chose the pink dress that Feyre had chosen for you, Feyre choosing the blue one that you had picked for her. Nesta picked the silver gown. Elain had taken the longest to decide, eventually choosing the green dress she had tried on first.

Feyre had argued over the payment with Tarin, demanding that she pay full price for the rushed orders, eventually winning the argument. Nesta and Elain had left by that point, taking off to some vague location that contained books.

That left you and Feyre, walking slowly across the bridge that would lead you to the Rainbow. She wanted to look at paints, and maybe get something special for the canvases that you had gotten her.

And that's how you found yourself entering Irina's shop once more, your heartbeat kicking up when you realized it. Feyre led you to the wall of paint, her fingers hovering over the tubes as she searched for the colors she wanted.

Soft footsteps approached from the back of the shop, and you were met with Irina, her face just as beautiful as you remembered, her smile just as warm.

You could have sworn your heart skipped a beat.

"Ah, Feyre and Y/N, it's lovely to see both of you," Irina's smooth voice said. "You came in just in time, I was about to close up early."

"Lucky us!" Feyre said, eyes still glued to the paint tubes. "Any special occasion?" She asked Irina teasingly as she pulled a few out of the selection.

"Oh, hush you," Irina scolded, swatting Feyre gently on the arm. "You know that I have a date with Rivin tonight."

*Oh.

Your heart sank.

"Well, I wanted to make sure the plans were still on! You know I was rooting for the two of you to get together," Feyre said. You grabbed the paint tubes she had picked up from her, pushing her slender hand away when she attempted to take them back. Your fingers rolled over the cap, giving you a sensation to focus on besides your crushed... crush. "The way the two of you danced around each other since I first met you was adorable- I'm so glad you're going out now!"

"Well, I'll only be able to go out with her if you choose what you want soon, or she'll think I stood her up!" Irina laughed, her skin shifting colors under the light.

"Oh, fine, fine," Feyre said, pulling out three more tubes of paint, all shimmering metallic shades. You followed her as she followed Irina to the back counter, placing the tubes on it. Soon enough, the paints were rung up and bagged, and clutched tightly in your arms. "Thank you, Irina. I hope your date goes well."

"Oh, I do as well!" Irina said as she walked the two of you out of the store, locking the door behind her. "I hope the two of you have a lovely rest of your day as well."

"You as well, Irina," you said quietly, nodding your head to her before she turned to leave. She flashed you a dazzling smile, her eyes a bright pink today.

So pretty.

"I'll see the two of you around!" She yelled, waving goodbye over her shoulder.

You and Feyre began the walk home, arms linked together one more, your other balancing the bag of paint.

"How do you know Irina?" Feyre asked once you were crossing the Sidra, taking careful penguin steps so neither of you would fall on the slippery bricks.

Color rushed to your cheeks, though they were already pink from the cold. "Oh, I went into her shop to get one of your birthday presents. The canvases and all," you explained.

"Ahh, that makes sense. She's nice, and she has a great selection!" Feyre said excitedly as the two of you passed through the door of the River House. "I cannot wait to start the first three panels! I'm not quite through my third month yet, but I know some of what I want to do for it."

"I'm glad you like it Fey! I can't wait to see what you make for each one." You kicked off your boots after unlacing them, and let Feyre pull your jacket off your arms, you doing the same for her after. "I think I'm going to head up to my room," you said quietly after you hung up your coats and put your boots on the rack.

"Oh, alright. I... I hope you didn't feel too uncomfortable while shopping," Feyre said. You knew what she meant: with Nesta and Elain.

"I was... fine," you lied half-heartedly.

Feyre stared at you, and you would have thought she was reading your mind, but you didn't feel anything similar. "If you say so. You know you can talk to me, right?" You nodded. "Okay... Well, I'll let you get to your room. Did you want me to start water for tea? I was going to make a cup for myself anyway," Feyre offered, a soft smile on her face.

You nodded again. "That would be nice, thank you, Fey."

Feyre's smile broadened. "I'll see you in the kitchen, sissy."

You went to your room to grab another packet of tea from the sampler Azriel had gotten you- so far, you were a fan of every blend he had chosen. You were hoping today's choice of a rose petal tea would be just as lovely.

The trip back to the kitchen was quick, with no sign of your other two sisters. Good. You weren't in the mood to see their sneering faces again so soon.

Tea was made quickly, thanks to Feyre boiling water for you. You gave her a hug before returning upstairs, tray balanced in your arms.

Just before you opened your door, the door to Rhys's study swung open, Azriel emerging from it.

*Oh!

He came down the hallway, and once he was near the stairs you finally got your brain to move past your anxiety of starting a conversation.

"Hi, Azriel, would you uhm... Would you wait here for just a moment?" You asked. "I have that Solstice present I got for you."

"Alright," Azriel replied quietly, moving closer to your doorway. You went inside quickly, fishing the already wrapped box out from under your bed, and a moment later you were back in front of him, offering the gift to him.

"Open it," you said, pushing the box into his hands.

Soon enough, the dagger was in his hands, his fingers running over the inlaid crescent moon made of sapphires, then over the blade itself. "This is wonderful, Y/N, thank you," Azriel said, sincerity in his tone. "I happen to have gotten a gift for you as well." A moment later, shadows materialized, depositing a festive, glittery evergreen tree colored bag in his hand.

"Oh, Azriel, you didn't have to-"

"Open it," Azriel said simply, transferring the handles over to your hand in a quick movement.

You narrowed your eyes playfully at him, but opened the bag. Inside was a beautiful, hooded cloak that would reach at least your mid back, made of a soft, white yarn. Beneath it was a matching scarf, little tassels on the ends, and a pair of mittens. They even had a small button on the top, allowing for the and of the mitten to be lifted and become a sleeveless glove if needed.

"Its made of rabbit fur," Azriel said quietly as you ran your fingers over the fabric. You looked up at with him with wide eyes. "Oh- they just brush or shave the rabbits, don't worry, no fluffy creatures were killed in the making of your gift," Azriel reassured you.

You let out a breath of relief. "Good. Good. It's a beautiful present, Azriel, thank you. Could I- could I give you a hug?" You asked nervously, regretting the question the moment you asked it. "I mean, you don't have to-"

"That would be fine." You blinked up at him. That would be- You allowed yourself to wrap your arms around him, noticing how stiff he was for the first few seconds before relaxing, his own arms coming up around you.

He smelled nice. Like cedar wood and... And night? Whatever it was, it was nice. Calming.

You both retracted your arms at the same time, pulling apart. A soft smile at him and one last thank you, and then you were in your room once more.

You were happy that he liked your present, but the slight wash of warmth it had given you was quickly chased away by the rest of your day.

Nesta and Elain... You were sure that they would never look at you like a sister again.

And Irina... It was such a silly crush that you had, based almost entirely on how pretty she was. You had been taken with her instantly, yes, breath catching in your throat. But that... That meant nothing.

Especially with you still being... Human. Frail. Less than a century from dying.

No fae, no matter how they looked, would ever take you as their wife, that you were sure of. You only had a couple of decades left of looking youthful, and perhaps only a few more past that before illness would inevitably take you.

A heavy sigh left your lips as you sat at your desk, a cup of tea poured out in the next moment.

At least tea could never not choose you...

🤍🤍❣️🤍🤍

The next week and a half passed dreadfully slowly, spent mostly in the solitude of your room.

Feyre came by when she could make time, the two of you sharing a pot of tea and the occasional snacks that she would bring.

Mor was stuck in the Hewn City, all the way until the morning of Starfall, when she would have a slight reprieve. She had already promised to come and spend the morning with you to get ready and catch up.

But until then, or until Feyre could make time... You stuck to your room.

Apparently your giving a joint present to Nesta and Cassian, and Elain and Lucien cause some extra anger in the two of them towards you. Nesta's glare had seemed extra fiery, and Elain had appeared perched on Lucien's lap more often than not when you did happen to wander into the living room.

You tried not to let it get to you, you did... But between the extra tension at home and the sadness in your heart from your silly little crush... It was weighing you down.

The days ticked past, counting down to an event that you weren't particularly excited for...

The morning of Starfall arrived, bringing with it the bright ball of energy that was Mor.

"Y/N!" Mor shouted, startling you awake. "Wake up! Wake up wake up! I'm here, I'm here. Please. Wake up. I've missed you!"

"Oh my gods, Mor, I'm awake," you groaned, rubbing your hands over your eyes. "Do you know a gentle way to wake people up?" You asked as you sat up, pushing your hair away from your face.

"Mm, not really. But, my way is super effective," Mor said cheekily, grinning when you stood up in the tub to glare at her with no fire in your eyes. "Come over here, sweets," she demanded, patting the bed next to her. You went over to her, collapsing onto the bed next to her, and swatted at her with a pillow in revenge for her waking you so abruptly. "So, how have the past two weeks been for you?"

"Oh... You know... Boring..." You said quietly. "How's it been for you? Is everyone behaving?"

Mor narrowed her eyes at you for a brief moment, before accepting your change of subject. "Oh, most everyone has been fine... I've been trying very hard to change the city's voting system plus helping plan their Starfall event, so my hands have been full every waking moment. And Keir has been an absolute pain..." Mor sighed. "He doesn't like that he's losing most of his control by the city moving to a full population vote rather than just the nobles, but it's going to happen whether he likes it or not. But for me, that just means him being more of an ass."

"I'm sorry Mor. I wish that someone else was able to help you..."

"Feyre offered, but, well, with her being pregnant that's not the best idea. And I'm sure Amren would enjoy going solely to terrify the citizens, but that's not exactly... What we're aiming for. And I can do it, and I will, I just wish my stupid father wasn't a factor." Mor sighed dramatically and flopped back on your bed, arms flung out to the sides.

One smacked into your thigh and you laughed, pushing it off of you and back over to Mor's side. "I know something that will cheer you up," you offered.

"Oh?" Mor asked, peeking over at you. "And what would that be?"

"Doing our skincare!" You answered brightly, using the same tactic that she always did with you.

"Oh, I should have guessed!" Mor giggled. "That sounds like a wonderful idea, sweets. Let's get to it!"

"Wait- let me take a quick bath first, and then I'll be all ready for it."

Mor nodded. "That sounds fine, I'll go make some tea and grab some breakfast for us."

The morning moved quickly from there- too quickly, in your opinion, your alone time with Mor slipping away so fast. After you had bathed, the two of you did your skincare, doing an extra mask and moisturizer to give yourselves an extra glow.

Into the second pot of tea Mor started doing your makeup once she had seen your dress. She spent nearly an hour on you alone, taking her time to perfect your eyeshadow and lipstick, getting just the right about of blush coloring your cheeks. You felt beautiful, seeing yourself like that in the mirror.

Mor's own makeup didn't take near as long, but she was even more beautiful than usual, with the extra time she had put in.

The two of you spent a bit more time together before she had to leave and return to the Hewn City for a bit longer, to make sure their celebration started smoothly.

"I'll see you at the House of Wind later, yes?" Mor asked before she left your room, a stern eye on you.

You sighed. "Yes, Mor, I will see you at the House of Wind. I *won't skip out on the celebration, I promise."

Mor nodded in approval. "Good. I'll see you in a few hours, Y/N."

She breezed out of your room, leaving you alone once again.

You sighed, and sat down on your bed. Then collapsed back onto it.

Just a few more hours, and your anxious anticipation could subside.

Starfall would be fine this year. You will stay away from Nesta, Elain, and their mates, and instead stick around Feyre, Mor, and possibly Azriel, if he didn't seem too annoyed by your presence.

🤍🤍💔🤍🤍

Four hours later, you were dressed and ready to leave for the House of Wind. Your hair was half pinned up by the hairpin you had bought yourself, half left down in loose curls that conveniently covered most of the bones in your back.

There was little you could do to cover your shoulders, what with the style of the dress, but you felt pretty nonetheless. The gown had been taken in slightly, just enough to fit more snugly and leave you feeling more comfortable with such an exposed neckline, more secure. And the way the skirts flowed around your feet made you feel more graceful than you were.

Overall, you felt decent about yourself tonight. Your hair had cooperated, not making you late for the start of the event by taking too long to style. And the makeup that Mor had done was perfect, just enough to enhance your natural features.

You had even opted for heels tonight, little sparkly silver boots that Feyre had gotten for you, in case you wanted something more than flats to wear.

When you finally left your room, you made your way downstairs where Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel were waiting in the entryway, seemingly for you.

"Oh, Y/N, you look beautiful!" Feyre exclaimed when she caught sight of you, rushing over to pull you into her arms. "I just love this dress on you!"

"Yes, both of you look lovely, but Feyre...?" Rhys started.

"Oh, shoot! We need to get going, Y/N, but Azriel will take you up to the House when you're ready!" Feyre said brightly, leaving the house a moment later and letting her mate take her in his arms, shooting of into the sky together.

Your heart dropped. Flying? You had only flown a few times, usually to get to the House of Wind as you would be tonight. It still terrified you as badly as it did on the first time, leaving you shaking every time.

"Are you ready to leave?" Azriel asked, pulling you from your thoughts. You nodded, and followed him outside, even as you felt like your heart was in your throat at the prospect of flying.

He gently pulled you into his arms, one hooked beneath your knees and the other supporting your back. Your arms instinctively flew around his neck, ready to hold on for dear life.

Not that you didn't trust Azriel to keep you alive, just... You weren't made for flying, you don't think.

The push off from the ground had you closing your eyes, squeezing them shut tight. You could feel your heart racing, trying to leave your chest as you were overtaken by fear.

"You look beautiful tonight," Azriel said, his deep voice in your ear causing your eyes to snap open.

"You don't have to lie..."

Azriel let out a soft breath. "I'm not lying, you look beautiful tonight. Pink is your color, I believe," He said, his voice right in your ear again. Color rushed to your cheeks at his compliment, and you smiled- small, but there.

A moment later, he had landed solidly on the ground, carefully placing you on your feet.

You'd nearly forgotten you had been flying.

Soon after distancing yourself from him, Rhys rushed over to pull him away for some reason or another. Which left you standing alone in the House of Wind, for the first time since Bounty Day.

Anxiety grew in your gut again, making you feel queasy.

Especially when you saw the feast, laid out over that same massive dining table.

You turned away from the banquet, navigating instead to Feyre's side. Already she was surrounded by a few citizens, but you were able to make your way in for a hug from your sister. Soon though, more far crowded in, and following the arrival of Rhys you broke away from your sister, no longer feeling welcome next to them.

You wandered off, searching for Mor in the ever growing sea of people, with no luck yet.

Azriel, the other person you knew that could be safe to talk to, was occupied talking to a very pretty redhead, and also next to Nesta and Cassian.

Definitely a no.

After a while, you filled a small plate with food, picking at the smoked meats, cheeses, and some pieces of fruit until you couldn't stand it anymore, taking the plate back into the kitchens.

Back here, it was quieter. A few stragglers were wandering in and out between the balconies nearby, but you paid them no mind as you got a glass of cool water from the sink.

You let yourself take a few deep breaths to calm yourself, to bring yourself out of your anxiety. It helped, but not much.

It was enough to allow you to wander back out into the party, passing more than enough males who eyed you up and down, leaving you nervous. You were almost tempted to grab a glass of wine, but you knew all that was provided was faerie wine, something that you never wanted to try after hearing some of Feyre's tales involving it.

You knew this dress was a mistake. A beautiful one, yes, but it left you feel exposed unlike every before.

Every few minutes, you circled back to where Feyre was, seeing if there was an opportunity for you to ask her to take you back to the River House, or have someone take you back. But every time you passed, there was somehow more people crowded around Feyre and her mate.

Mor was nowhere to be seen two hours into the party, leaving you adrift in the sea of fae that had overtaken the House of Wind. You were overwhelmed and feeling so alone, the noise of the party drowning out any coherent thoughts you could have.

Just make it to the Starfall, and you can go.

That's what you told yourself for an hour as you continued your slow circles of the main rooms, attempting to find Mor or see if Feyre was available. No luck for you, though.

Cheers erupted as the first streaks of glowing green overtook the sky, giving you your cue to leave.

You didn't care that it was cold and snowy out, you just needed away from the noise, the lights, the everything that always surrounded you.

The stairs were hell in your heeled boots, but you dealt with them, forcing yourself to go one step at a time. By some miracle, you didn't fall, merely ending the massive flight of stairs by sitting down at the bottom to catch your breath.

Tears had begun falling down your cheeks at some point, driven by the cold and how lonely you feel, how forgotten you felt yet again.

You finally pushed yourself off of the cold stone, the bottom of your dress now wet with snow.

The forest would give you the peace you wanted, though you wouldn't venture near as far as you had last time. No, tonight you just wanted a bit of peace, a bit of time with only natural light shining upon you, even if it was enhanced by the cosmic phenomenon going on above you.

Your feet carried you to the edge of Velaris, the forest in your sights. A sigh of relief left you as you saw the trees, so reminiscent of the ones you had grown up near.

And then you crashed into a wall.

"What the-?" You rubbed at your nose, attempting to soothe the pain of crashing into- whatever you had crashed into. You held your hands out, shocked to find that they rested perfectly on an invisible force in front of you. Nothing that you tried let your hands pass that point, and a kick at the area led to the same results- a foot that you knew would hurt badly in the morning.

You couldn't *believe it.

They had locked. You. In. They had taken any amount of freedom you could have, no matter how fleeting it would inevitably be.

Ice cold rage and swells of disappointment left you a sobbing mess as you stumbled away from the wall of your cage, following the Sidra with no true destination in mind.

You would not be going back to that house. You couldn't. Not when- when... Not when Feyre had okayed you being locked inside of the city like nothing more than a pet, like you weren't a person with feelings and needs and desires.

You were sick of being alone, sick of feeling alone even in a sea of people. You had no one who was just yours. And that would never change in Velaris, would never change unless you were around humans once more.

"Y/N!" A warm voice said, drawing your eyes from the snow covered ground to the person it came from. "How did the recipe I gave you turn out? Good?" Sevenda asked, her smile turning to a frown when she saw your tear covered, blotchy face. "Is everything okay, dear?"

Another sob left your lips, despite your attempts to quiet it. "I- I- No," you managed to get out.

"Oh, come in here for a minute, Y/N, you're freezing!" Sevenda said, pulling you into the back of her restaurant. She pushed a cup of tea in front of you, which you gladly accepted, your fingers warming instantly from the mug. "Did you want to talk about it?" She asked after a couple of minutes.

You shook your head, but sighed and answered anyways. "I just... I don't belong in that house, I don't belong in Velaris... I can't... I can't keep pretending like I do, acting like I'm happy to be there... I need..." You sighed again. "I need out of there." And then an idea struck you. "I- I know this would be a lot to ask, and that you likely don't need help from a human but... Do you happen to need help here? I could do anything you need, I just..." You trailed off.

"You need out?" Sevenda asked, sympathy on her face and in her voice. "Well, I did lose one of my prep cooks to the Continent recently, he went to study new styles of cooking. If you are serious about this, I will have you show up at nine tomorrow morning. Okay, dear?"

You nodded your head vigorously. "I would be so grateful, Sevenda, truly, thank you so much." You let the older fae pull you into her arms, the gentle hug enough to stop your tears for the moment.

"Are you going to be alright, dear?" She asked once she pulled away, looking you in the eyes. You nodded your head, not trusting your voice at the moment. "Okay. Let me get you a cup of tea to go, and you should go straight home, hmm?"

You let her do just that, accepting the hot jasmine tea in a lidded cup that she made you promise to bring back in the morning. After saying goodbye, you set off in the opposite direction of the River House.

No matter how cold you were, you didn't feel like going back there yet.

Some time later, you found yourself on a cliffside, overlooking the bay of Velaris. Your tea was long gone by now, any warmth it had given you gone with it.

The rocks down below looked so inviting, as though they would welcome you in an instant. You let out a long, heavy breaths, tears beginning to flow again.

You wish you had the strength to jump.

Instead, you sat on the edge of the cliff, booted feet dangling over the side. The snow underneath you was frigid, leaving you colder than before. But still, you sat and watched the waves, and listened to the crash on the rocks below.

"Y/N?" A deep voice asked from behind you, but you paid it no mind. Maybe they would leave you alone. "Y/N?" The voice asked again. After another length of silence from you, the person took another approach, and sat next to you instead, their own long legs dangling over the edge. A warmth behind you, and less wind hitting you after the male readjusted. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You still didn't answer.

Instead, you were surprised by gentle hands winding a scarf around your neck in two loops, then a cloak being fastened over your head and buttoned in the front, and finally a pair of mittens slid over your hand.

Azriel didn't make you talk, didn't make you do anything. He simply let you take the time you needed to recover, to stop your tears.

A while later, the waves started to lull you to sleep, your head tilting to the side until Azriel pulled it to his arm, letting you rest against him. Your eyes fluttered shut, your cheek soaking in the warmth of him, even through the hood of your cloak.

It was only when you nearly pitched forward off the cliff that Azriel insisted on taking you back to the River House, or at least to a café where you could warm up.

"I suppose..." your voice cracked. "That going back to the River House would be... fine... for now," you whispered, glad that he didn't force you to speak any more. A moment later and you were pulled through shadows, similarly to how Nuala and Cerridwen travelled but... different in a way. Almost warmer, you would say.

The two of you appeared in front of your bedroom door, the warm air shocking your skin and making you feel clammy.

"I'll have my shadows bring you a pot of tea, feel free to take a bath or change so you can warm up, Y/N. I hope you have a better night that it has been so far," Azriel said quietly before turning to leave.

"Thank you, Azriel," you croaked just before he turned to go down the stairs. He gave you a small smile and nodded before continuing on his way.

You entered your bedroom, tears falling almost instantly once you were alone again. You forced yourself to strip, hanging up the pink gown to dry and setting your sparkly boots near the door. The bath felt soothing, at least, warming you to the core by the time you got out.

And there, awaiting you on your desk, was a fresh pot of the lavender and chamomile tea that you preferred for sleep.

A few extra tears fell at that small act of kindness, and you helped yourself to a still steaming cup of it, settling into the armchair that you had perpetually pulled near your window, a throw blanket across your body.

Sleep claimed you before you had even finished your second cup of tea.

🤍🤍💔🤍🤍

General Taglist: @lilah-asteria @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao

Series Taglist: @darkbloodsly @angelbunny222 @uniquedreamsblog @romantasyreader28 @that-one-bibliophole @idkmyoldonewasembarassing @deathtopistachios @saltedcoffeescotch @sleepylunarwolf @babypeapoddd @kingshitonly @bravo-delta-eccho @bluebries81 @liahaslosthermind @deepestmentalitypersona @historygeekqueen @hermajestysworld @marina468 @esposamultifandom @astrokitty18 @larissa01-blog2 @acourtofbatboydreams @angel-graces-world-of-chaos @thelov3lybookworm @weekendlusting @dxjaaaa @thejediprincess56 @casiiopea2 @butterfix

#the afterthought #I don't feel alive #acotar x reader #acotar x archeron!reader #acotar x reader angst #acotar angst #angst #toxic inner circle #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #archeron!reader #acotar #tato writes

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quarterlifekitty · 11 hours ago

Note

heyyy

can I ask for a part 2 on fuckboy soap?

i want to know more about what happens with reader and simon

in my head, Simon HATES seeing Johnny treat the reader that way. i can envision Simon taking her out, treating her right and all but stealing away Johnny's toy.

So, I posted a part 2, but I have these asks about it and I’d hate for them to go to waste— so I thought I’ll do a little bit of expansion on the relationship. Some shite exposition.

Uhhhh I’m back from writing this now and I didn’t mean to do this but I kind of made this like a prequel or like a part 1.5 I didn’t mean to make it so long oops

Promethean: how to starve a beast

Simon does not involve himself, in any way, in the nasty hookup miasma that Soap is a part of. That most of the frat is a part of, honestly. Motherfucker doesn’t party. This man is on financial aid and has a part time job. He is studying because he’s the one paying for his schooling and for his living expenses.

He doesn’t care that Johnny fucks people under less than savory pretenses. People get played by him? Better they learn their lesson with some harmless douche with a mohawk than with someone who will actually do some damage. Ultimately, not his business. He’s seen plenty of people come and go across the hall, and he’s not fussed.

He doesn’t respond to the conquest stories from the other guys when they’re sharing takeout, or the occasional ‘family’ dinner. Really, the only reaction he gives, even internally, is when one of them comments on something some girl did that was gross, or something about them that wasn’t hot.

A complaint that her period started when she stayed the night. I’d like to fuck a girl while she’s on the rag. Bet it’s fucking warm and slick.

A complaint that she had cellulite. Way to out yourself as being a porn addict, mate.

A complaint that her nails dug too hard into his skin. I’d love for a girl to make me bleed when I fuck her.

He didn’t feel any sympathy. Just accumulated little, harmless fantasies.

Until Johnny started talking about you.

Simon didn’t know you. Had never met you. Seen you once or twice, maybe. Hadn’t learned to even recognize your face.

“Kept leanin’, think she wanted me t’kiss her.”

“So fockin’ bad at giving head. S’a bit cute, tae be honest.”

“Tried tae make a grab for my hand the other night. Can ye believe it? Tryin’ tae hold my hand while ah’m givin’ it tae her. Daft thing still doesnae get it.”

Then he starts to notice you when you leave Soap’s room. The way you very gently close his door as if you’re worried about bothering him. The way you pause, like there’s something you want to say, before you move on. The deep breath. The odd sniffle.

And then, when you show up. Yanked inside without so much as a kind word.

Simon has to strain and get close to the door if he wants to hear you. Soap’s loud as all fuck, but from what one can hear from the hall, he may as well be in there alone.

It’s like there’s an electric coil in his belly. Every time there’s something to do with you, the dial ticks over a notch. The current heats the metal. Every time Soap brags about what he’s done to you. Every time he sees you shake when you walk down the hall and out of the house. Every time Soap brags about what you, the stupid little thing he keeps for a fuckpet, really wants—

The coil is red hot. Even if he could figure out how to turn off the burner, the heat would stay. The metal would be hot to the touch. The heat radiates the very air in front of him, like a mirage. He thinks of you when you’re not even in the house. When no one’s talking about you. You’re a parasite that’s squirmed deep into his gut and you can’t be removed without pulling his organs out with you.

He feels like he’s gone mad. How can no one else see it the way he does? How can Johnny not see how privileged he is to have you even look at him? How can he not want the perfect devotion you’re so keen to give him? How can you not know that any man would thank god for your returned affection, if you’d only set your sights on one that wasn’t a complete and total fuckhead? How has no jealous classmate or longtime friend come by and set Johnny’s nose bloody and crooked for how he’s treated you, sensitive and dangerously endearing as you are?

Every time Johnny talked about you, he had no idea that it was another rusted staple under his best mate’s skin. Building your mythology. Making you a prize. No, that wasn’t right.

Making you seem utterly wasted. Shackled yourself to a mutt with no sense for what he had writhing and submissive beneath him.

Soap has the perfect thing, the finest yield of flesh, right between his teeth and he won’t bite down.

Content for you to rot in his maw.

Well, Simon isn’t.

#writing #cod fanfic #cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #ghost x reader #college au #Promethean

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burrowkit · 1 day ago

Text

I stare up at the indestructible being. Finding his summoning spell was relatively easy. Stupid easy, really, when you think about it. And yet, somehow it was surprising.

A being that lives for eons.

He looks around the space. A tiny living room in my tiny apartment. "Let me guess, you want riches beyond your imagination?" He drawls, looking dissatisfied with the request. "At least that's easy. Most demand murders and riches. A thousand tasks, to set me free."

I keep silent. I know he's looking at my falling apart couch, which is easily older than I am. Maybe even twice as old as me. It's a pullout couch, something that weighs a ton but is still functional.

I've drawn the star with my couch in the middle. Not that I wanted to sacrifice it, but it really was the only place it fit. I glance against the nearby wall. A twin bed.

Because all I can afford is this tiny, bachelor apartment.

The cupboard doors are falling off... if they're even there. The closet door sits in the closet, having equally fallen off.

Some of the windows are boarded up.

"Well...?" The being pushes, staring down at me.

I carefully examine him. The more time he spends here, the more time he shifts his appearance. His hair takes on a yellower blonde than its original platinum. As if all colour had once been leeched from it.

His eyes glow with the brightest blues, as if he once belonged to the skies, fell, and the only memory being of the sky in his eyes.

I reach for a strand of my hair that fell onto my cheek. My platinum blonde hair. I tuck it behind my ear.

It shocked the nurses on my birth that I was born with the same sky blue eyes. Eyes that almost appear unnatural.

My mom has dark hair with a few golden highlights. Her eyes are a deep brown, with a few sparks of red and gold in them. As if he were a treasure. Or at least, that's what my dad supposedly said about them.

"I want you to teach me," I inform him, shifting my weight between my feet, unsure how to explain this.

"Teach you? Teach you what?" The demon prods, as if he needed more direction.

Re-thinking the words, he probably did.

For a being that's visited this world frequently, even without a summoning spell, I was still surprised to find four copies of his summoning spell. One at the local archives. One at the pawn shop. One in my mom's belongings.

The last, on my father's gravestone.

"My mom, she died of cancer," I try to explain. I thought I had practised this speech. Nothing compares to what I actually expected of him.

"And you want her brought to life, hm? That'll cost you extra," he informs me.

No. As much as I'd like my mom back, I know she'd hate being dragged back to her mortal shell.

Still, how hard is it? How hard can it be?

"We need to talk," I inform the demon.

"So. Talk," he spits at me.

I can tell he's becoming furious with me.

You're my father.

I can't seem to get the words out. Instead, I head over to my small desk, on the opposite wall of my bed, scooping up the letter and returning to the edges of the circle. I hold it out to the demon, and he swipes it.

He stares at the paper, and for a moment, I'm unsure of what he'll say. What he'll do.

And maybe that's why I decided to trap him in a spell instead of allowing him to roam free. At least here, he won't be able to escape and avoid his parental obligations.

"Who's your mom?"

I freeze at his words, forcing myself to look into his eyes. His eyes, which are now the exact hue mine are. I flinch, nervous. I look towards the photo at the head of my bed, and he follows.

There, a single photo lies of my mother on my first day of school.

"My Angel," he whispers, looking back at me. "You must be Charlotte."

I nod my head, staring up at him. He shifts again, his height shortening. Closer to my own height. Maybe so he can look me in the eyes easier. "I go by Char," I offer out a hand.

He takes it tentatively, shaking my hand. "Josh."

"I know," I smile at him. "My mom told me all about you."

He nods, looking around the space, releasing my hand. "So, I'm guessing you want to learn about who you are, what abilities you may have inherited, how long you'll live, right?" He inquires, moving around the circle.

"Something like that," I mutter, grabbing a seat on the edge of my bed. "I'd also like to know what mom was."

His head snaps to look at me, looking a tad surprised. "She never told you?"

I shake my head. "She left me a box that told me how to contact you. Then, I confirmed it by finding more copies..." I trail off, nodding to the other papers on my desk. "You're ridiculously easy to call."

He snorts in response. "That's cause most humans covet the best of things."

Implying he's one of the better demons to summon. I have to wonder if it's because he behaves well, or because he works well with others.

On some bizarre instinct, I snap the circle, releasing him from the requirements of the spell. It was an additional step in my mom's copies. In fact, some of the other ones have other additions. I opted to trust the one on my father's grave and in my mother's notes.

He grabs my chair by my desk, pulling it over to the bed. He sighs, taking a seat. "I never did find out what your mother was. Not an angel, but she was my angel," he offers. I'm not entirely sure what he means, but I get the sense that he truly did love her. As much as a demon can, you know. "Which would make you half of her and half a demon," he continues to explain. "Your life will likely be long living. Assuming you can refrain from playing with those dark spells."

He pauses, watching me carefully.

Dark spells.

Yes, my mother's box contained a grimoire containing all sorts of spells. Any time I tried to look at the worst of them, the book would rearrange the papers, preventing me from looking.

I already know why.

My mother, in her attempt to help conceal my nature, used dark magic. It's what truly gave her her cancer.

There are some dark spells I could play with, ones that leave no mark. Ones that would play on my demonic nature. And yet... I have to question why anyone would ever play with the other spells. Even the pages seem to be marked with a general feeling of oil and grease.

"As for your powers..." he trails off again. He whips his hand down, and suddenly a book appears. "This would be a good starting guide."

I take the book tentatively, flipping through the first couple of pages. It provides yet another summoning spell for my father. One that, like my mother's, calls upon Josh directly. But this one has no summoning circle. In fact, it's awfully similar to using a cell phone and calling him.

I flip to another page, describing the beginning guide of my physiology. There's a section on my father's powers. And another section dedicated to the abilities his known offspring have.

Known offspring.

Which likely means I'm not the first, nor the last of his children.

When I look up, about to ask him another question, I know he's already gone.

In fact, on my kitchen counter, I notice a small pile of coins. My couch, which is still in essence, the same, has been fully repaired. My falling apart home is now repaired to its former glory.

I flip to the last page of the book. There, an inscription lies.

If I had known you were on your own earlier, I would have stopped by. No child of mine should ever want for anything. Call if you ever need help, although do try to keep it interesting. There's only so many times I can rip the intestines out of a human before that gets dull.

Oh, and to answer your likely unasked question... there is a spell within this book that'll point you to your siblings. Be warned, they are older. But they all have one human parent. I stripped your mother's spells of protection from you. This will allow you access to your full ability.

PS- Although you never lived in luxury, it was due to your mother choosing to invest all of the child support to your education and future. You should have access to it all soon. I have attached one of my favourite photos of you. I'm sorry it's just a copy, not the original. I still need it.

Love, Josh

I look just below the note, and discover a photo. One that was taken by a stranger.

It was on my birthday. Mom and I decided to travel to Peggy's Cove in Nova Scotia. I smile at the memory, at the kindness of a stranger willing to take a photo of us standing next to the lighthouse.

I flip the photo around, and discover a second one behind it. One of the stranger taking a selfie with the camera, and us.

My dad.

Even though his appearance is different, now that I know him, I know it's him.

My father.

I wonder if he's kept a close eye on my through my life? I wonder, setting the book carefully onto my bed and heading for the kitchen.

There, along with the money, is a photo album. I flip it open and discover photos of my mom and I.

Primarily, photos of us on vacation. And, each one is accompanies with a 'selfie' of a stranger. A different one each time, but even through the photo, I know it's him.

I smile, remembering we had to stop taking vacations when I was still so young.

Or, if we did, we'd take them in secret.

But, I find photos of him with my mother. Her business trips, supposedly.

Which implies that, although he couldn't physically check in on me, he still sought out my mom. And, she clearly kept him up to date.

A single tear drop touches the photo album. Then, with some protection magic, it sizzles and disappears, leaving the book in its flawless condition.

"I love it, dad." I give a sad smile, wondering if I'll ever be able to have a close relationship with him.

I head towards my bathroom, and there, I find a variety of objects. Soaps, shampoos, cleaning supplies.

The weirdest part? The cleaning supplies seem to be working themselves on my bathroom. The most expensive products I couldn't afford for the last few months. They're scrubbing at the mold I was sure I'd never get out.

"Thanks, dad," I smile sadly at it.

The products multiply, quickly opting to clean the rest of my apartment, now that their presence is known.

I laugh. If this is some sort of spell to keep my apartment in tip top shape, I could get used to it. Although...

I look over at the money.

It's enough that I could upgrade. Still, although this was one of the few apartments I could afford myself, I did partially choose it because of its location.

I pick up the album once more and curl up on my bed, closing my eyes. Maybe, just maybe, I can make the best of my life.

I flip to the first page of the book.

Chapter 1. How to contact Josh in an emergency.

The demon collapsed onto your bed. A vacant stare in his eye as he uttered “this is the 10,000th time I’ve been summoned. can we make it easy? Please?”

#writers #writers on tumblr #writing prompts

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baby-yongbok · 21 hours ago

Text

Come Back Soon

Bang Chan × afab!reader

✮ Genre: Smut, Sex Worker!Bang Chan ✮ Word count: 5k ✮ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors DNI), sex work (Like a sexy host club kinda?), oral (m rec.), nipple play, unprotected sex, Reader is called pretty (a lot..) ✮ Summary: Who's the cute guy with the white jacket and the thick accent? ✮ A/N: Bang Chan + Bed Chem by Sabrina Carpenter as requested by this anon! Enjoy! + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡

✮ Masterlist✮

In your defense, it’s not a brothel. It just kind of operates like one.

You heard about Railway from a friend of a friend. It’s a hole in the wall club that she swears is a gem. You looked it up and found close to nothing. There was only a small reddit community of people in your area asking questions about this mystery place. Here’s what you gathered:

It’s a club where women can meet men and pay for attention. Whether or not that attention includes your clothes being ripped off in a private room or a tongue down your throat is up to you.

You decided to visit one Thursday when your Tinder match was being flaky and you were sick of waiting for replies from men who were either a catfish or can’t find the clit.

The place was hard to find. You walked passed it twice before you realized that you needed to go down the sketchy staircase next to the hotpot restaurant.

You expected a place packed and run down with women all over the men working there. You expected a mess and you were met with the opposite. The space was clean, pretty and not nearly wild enough to be considered a club. There are red curved couches and lounge nooks all around. A fully stocked bar and music playing loudly but not so loud that you need to yell. This is not at all what you imagined.

You learned that night that the only guys in the club were the ones working there. They come up to you, charm you, and only stay if you want them to. If you decline they’re onto the next.

You spent some time there, got some attention but it wasn’t until your eyes met his that you really felt like you were getting the attention you desired. He was in a suit, no shirt underneath the jacket and looking damn good while doing it. He walked into the room like he was six foot two even though he’s just about average height, it doesn’t matter to you though - he’s hot.

Once he saw you he went straight for you, walking over like he had all of the time in the world. You sat pretty on the couch, sitting up a bit straighter and sipping your drink like you didn’t even notice him. He thought that was cute.

“Excuse me.” Oh? Is that an accent you hear? You hum, looking up at him like he didn’t have your attention from the moment he walked in. “Is this seat taken? Or can I join you?”

That’s how you ended up meeting Chris.

The two of you sat and spoke for at least thirty minutes before his cautious touches turned into much more and a make-out session in one of the lounge nooks.

He pulled you into his lap, hands on your hips and pretty sounds clashing with yours. You considered taking it further for a second, just a second before your phone rang and your friend effectively cockblocked you. Chris thought it was funny. He smiled while you pouted about having to leave but he didn’t let you go without another kiss - deep and lingering. His tongue on yours and those pretty hands on your hips.

“Come back soon, yeah?” He smiled up at you, his eyes turning into gleaming crescents and you were hooked. Unfortunately, the soon that you promised him wasn’t as soon as you wanted.

Work has been hectic, your friends have been messy and you’ve just been busy. Every plan that you had to return got canceled until tonight, Christmas Eve. You threw on a red sheer dress and put your phone on Do Not Disturb. When you get to the club this time there’s a guy at the door, a cute blonde with a deep voice and pretty accent. He gives you a card with some instructions for the night. You look it over and turn to him.

“Wait, how does this work?” He smiles - fuck, he’s hot - and points out the QR code on the card.

“You can scan this to get the clubs app. Then you go to the event tab, press the holiday party chat and it will match you with a random guy from the club. You chat anonymously and if you like him you can take it further. If you don’t like him you can unmatch the chat and try again.” You nod, half entranced by his voice and half listening.

You nod at him, smiling sweetly but his smile has got you beat. Is he on the app? Gosh.

You head over to the bar and order a drink then scan the code. You open the app and it’s surprisingly smooth. You follow the instructions that the hot blonde gave you and go to the holiday party chat. A button pops up with big pretty letters reading “Spin”, so you do. Two seconds pass and the bartender is sliding you your drink while you get connected to a chat. This is interesting.

So, the guys are nice. Really nice, but there’s no spark. You’re on your second drink and you just unmatched your second chat. You look around the club, the men are dressed in sexy, festive all white outfits with their main charming point on display to lure attention.

You scan the room looking for that familiar face you made out with a month ago but there’s no sign of him. You sigh, deciding to try your luck and press the pretty button on your phone again. You get connected to someone new and they start off the conversation just as the others did, sweet.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing here alone on Christmas eve?”

You sip your drink, typing a reply and waiting less than a second to get one back.

- You think I’m pretty? You don’t even know who I am yet. - “Let’s play a game then, yeah? I’ll guess.”

Oh? This is getting interesting.

- And if you guess the wrong pretty girl? - “Then unmatch me.” - “If I don’t recognize you then I don’t deserve your time.”

Wait… did he say recognize? Like he knows you? Knows what you look like? You look around again, searching for Chris. You’d recognize him in a heartbeat but he’s nowhere to be found. You turn your attention back to the app to see that your match has texted again.

- “Deal?”

You hesitate but agree. You wait with bated breath as you watch the little chat bubble pop up.

- “By the bar? Sinful little red dress.”

You stare at his answer then look around again. What the hell?

- “You didn’t unmatch. I knew I had the right pretty lady.” - Lucky guess, I’m not the only pretty girl in a red dress.

You scoff, getting ready to unmatch when he texts back.

- “But you’re the only one here tonight that I was hoping to see again.” - “The only one here that I’ve had my eye on for far longer than I should.” - “The only one I was hoping to match with so I can kiss those pretty lips again.”

Oh fuck, it’s him. Thank the heavens.

- Oh? Is this the guy with the cute accent? - “Pretending that you don’t remember my name? I’m hurt.”

You smile, finishing your drink and texting back. Suddenly you’re having a good time. A very good one.

- Remind me of it. - “Oh, I plan to”

The chat is ended before you can text back and your heart drops. What happened? Did you actually hurt his feelings? What does he mean he plans to? The bartender interrupts your flurry of wonder before you can go any deeper. He slides you a shot and you furrow your brows.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t order this.” The bartender smiles at you and nods to the other side of the bar. “It’s from him. On his tab.”

You turn around and your heart drops to the center of the earth. Chris is there. White fur jacket, white pants and no shirt. He’s leaning against the bar with a grin that you’d like to kiss off of his stupidly handsome face. How could you forget to look behind you?

You lock your phone and turn your bar stool to face him. He’s sipping on something while his eyes roam down from yours and over the curve of your neck then the swell of your chest. He’s practically eye fucking you and you have no idea what to do about it. So you take the shot.

The burn of the alcohol along with the desire bubbling in your core is enough to steel you for the moment that Chris pushes back off of the bar and makes his way over to you. You get a full view of him as he walks over and part of you starts foaming at the mouth while the other part of you has to hold down the fort and act normal about this.

“Excuse me.” His thick accent rings through your ears and you grin. “Is this seat taken? Or can I join you?”

“Is that your pick up line or something?” The dopey smile on your face gives Chris all the confirmation he needs to take the empty seat next to you. “You should come up with something new.”

“Is that right? Any suggestions?” Damn it, he’s still as hot as you remember. “I could just tell you how stunning you look in this dress instead.”

You feel a flush creep up your neck at his compliment. "That's a start," you manage to say, trying to keep your cool. "But I've heard better."

Chris smiles leaning in a tad bit closer. Just enough for you to notice, "Oh? Then I'll have to up my game." His eyes sparkle with mischief. "How about this - I've been waiting to see you again every night for a month. I was starting to worry I'd lost my touch. What good am I if I can’t get the prettiest woman coming back to see me?"

You laugh, the tension easing slightly. "Maybe I was just playing hard to get."

"Were you now?" Chris raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "And here I thought you forgot about me."

"Trust me, it's impossible to forget about you," Your mouth was moving before you could stop yourself. We’ll blame that on the alcohol.

“You’ve thought about me then?” He asks with a smile that’s much sweeter than any other that you’ve seen tonight.

Fuck it, let loose, It’s Christmas eve.

“Maybe I have, but the details are classified.” That takes his sweet smile and turns it into a blush real quick. You can’t help but mirror him since you just indirectly admitted to thinking of him while you had some solo play over the past month - which is one hundred percent true.

“Classified, hm?” He speaks up, nodding. “I’ve thought about you too. And those details are free to the public. If you ask for them.”

Your heart races at his bold admission. That was unexpected. You lean in closer, your voice lowering to a sultry whisper. "And what if I did ask?"

Chris' eyes darken ever so slighty. He leans in too, his breath hot against your ear. "Then I'd tell you how I've imagined your soft skin under my hands, the taste of your lips, the sound of your moans as I..."

He trails off, pulling back slightly to gauge your reaction. Your breath catches in your throat, heat pooling low in your belly.

"As you what?" You breathe, unable to look away from his intense gaze.

Chris grins, hoping that he has you hooked. "On second thought, that information is classified. The rest you'll have to find out from experience."

You swallow hard, your mind racing with possibilities. "And how exactly would I do that?"

He reaches out, his fingers trailing lightly over your hand that’s resting on the bar.

“Come with me downstairs.” There’s a downstairs to this place? “I’ll get you away from the noise and then we can make some of our own.”

Your heart races as you consider his offer. Every bit of you is screaming at you to take his offer and bring your lingering fantasies to life but you still try to play hard to get. At least you were going to before the alcohol and desire coursing through your veins drowned everything out and had you nodding in a quick second.

"Lead the way" You say, your voice huskier than intended.

Chris' eyes light up with a mix of surprise and excitement. He stands, offering you his hand before you could even dare to change your mind. You take it, relishing the warmth of his skin against yours. As you slide off the barstool, you take him in and realize just how little justice your memory of him does for his insane body.

He guides you through the semi-crowded club, his hand on the small of your back sending shivers up your spine. You follow him down a narrow staircase, the music fading as you descend. The basement level is dimly lit, with plush velvet sofas and private alcoves tucked away in corners.

He leads you over to one of the private spaces, very few of them are free but he leads you to the one in the corner like it was reserved just for him. “After you.” You step into the cozy space. There’s a couch on one side, a semi-sofa on the other with a small table next to it, then there’s nothing but a bare wall.

Chris slides the door shut behind the two of you as he steps in and it’s almost like you’ve entered your own soundproof barrier.

He almost looks sheepish when he steps forward to close the space between the two of you. His hand finds its way back to the small of your back, his touch gentle and warm. You turn to face him fully, his proximity making your heart race.

"Now where were we?" He whispers, his shy smile turning into a more sly one. You look up at him, unable to tear your gaze away from his.

"I like your coat." You comment, changing the subject to buy yourself time to calm down but the desire thick in your tone lets you know that there’s little that you can do to calm yourself. "It looks good on you."

He grins, "It would look better on you." Before you can protest he's shrugging the long white fur off of his shoulders, leaving his broad build open on display for you. You stare, taking in each dip and curve of his chest and stomach. How could you not?

He drapes the coat over your shoulders and you smile in a nearly futile attempt to stop the moan clawing up your throat when you realize that the warm fabric smells like him. You slip your arms in the sleeves and Chris hums in approval.

"Now..." He brushes your hair back, his gaze shifting into something more possessive now that you're wearing his coat. "Where were we?"

"Right about here, I think."

Before he can react your lips are on his in a hungry and demanding kiss. We'll blame this on the alcohol too.

You melt into him, your hands indulgently taking in the soft skin of his bare shoulders while he returns your passion. His tongue traces along your bottom lip and you part them, allowing him entry.

He groans into the kiss, his hands finding purchase on your waist for just a second before he lets them trail up under the fabric of his coat and over the sheer of your dress. Every inch of you that he takes in is better than anything he could've imagined in the month that you've been on his mind.

He pulls you closer, his desire getting the better of him. He has to know what you feel like against him. He just has to.

You can feel his erection pressing into your hip and a rush of arousal floods between your thighs.

Your hands explore his chest, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. He pulls back slightly, his breathing heavy as he looks down at you, his eyes dark with need.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his accent sending shivers down your spine. "This is part of those classified details, ya know."

"Mine too." you admit, biting your lip. "So don't stop."

With a growl, Chris captures your lips once more, his hands sliding further up your back just to slide back down to your waist. You press yourself against him, craving every bit of him you can get your hands on. The proximity deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth, leaving you breathless.

His hands cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, teasing them through the fabric of your dress. A soft moan escapes you and he swallows it, his lips trail kisses along your jaw and down to the sensitive spot on your neck. You squirm against him, his touch driving you crazy.

"Fuck, Chris," You gasp, gripping his shoulders tightly.

"Say my name again," He breathes, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Chris," You whimper, his name slipping from your lips without a second thought.

His hands leave their exploration of your curves and trail their way up the backs of your thighs and over the curve of your ass. He lifts you up, bypassing both sofas to pin you against the wall. Your legs wrap around his bare torso, pushing his pants down lower on his hips. Once he has you settled he begins to work his way down your neck, his lips setting off a blazing trail of fire across your skin.

"So soft," he mumbles, his accent thicker now, betraying his growing desire.

His mouth trails back up to yours, stamping a hot kiss against your lips and pulling away right after. You whine, chasing his lips with yours.

"Impatient, are we?" He chuckles, his hands pushing the bunched up fabric of your dress further up your thighs. You shiver, goosebumps forming where his fingertips brush against your skin.

"You're doing everything right, how could I not be."

"Oh? Is that so?" He hums, his lips brush over yours teasingly.

"It is." You breathe, your hands moving over his shoulders to tangle in his hair. This time you kiss him, it’s deep and indulgent but then you break it to kiss over his jaw.

"You're a fucking tease, you know that?" He groans, his thumbs stroking the smooth skin of your thighs. It’s taking all of his self control not to absolutely rip you apart.

"Me?" You breathe, smiling against his skin as you place another kiss. "I'm not the one whose been flaunting around the club half-naked all night. And now you’re here teasing me."

Your teeth graze over the shell of his ear and his cock jumps in his pants. He moves swiftly yet gently, turning to lay you down on the sofa.

“Am I being a tease?” He asks, staring down at you with those dark brown eyes while his hands work on his belt. You watch the way his fingers move so strategically. The veins in his hands alone are enough to get you feeling hotter. “How can I make it up to you?”

He’s diving down to attach your lips before you can even answer. His hands smooth over your curves hurriedly until he reminds himself to take his time with you. His hands are back on your breasts, pulling down the red fabric of your dress to expose you to him. He catches himself, stopping and pulling back just a bit.

“Can I see you? Is that alright?” You nod, whimpering a hasty “yes” then crashing your lips back to his. He moans against you, pulling down the last of the fabric containing your breasts until they’re resting in his palms. He groans and you swallow it.

Chris lighty pinches and pulls at your nipples, the buds rise at the attention and you moan in response. "You like that?"

"Yes," Your fingers tangle in his hair and tug. "How about this?" He rolls one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

"Oh, fuck," you whimper, your head falling back.

"That's it, baby. Let me hear you." He dips his head down and takes one of the stiff peaks into his mouth. The sound it pulls from you is unbecoming but you ignore the embarrassment lingering in your chest and let the pleasure spread further.

Chris on the other hand, is in love with every sound you make and he’s determined to hear more. His teeth graze over your nipple. Your grip tightens, a louder moan escaping you. "Just like that."

His hands trail down, pulling your dress further up your thighs until the black lace covering your soaked sex is in full view. His hands stroking the underside of your thighs, teasing you further and you nearly fall apart at the seams.

"Chris," You moan, grinding up into him. Begging for him to touch you where you need him most.

"How wet are you, pretty girl?" He coos, his hand slides up between your legs. You gasp and he groans when his fingers trace over the lace of your panties. "Fuck, you're soaked."

"Please," You beg, bucking against his hand. "You’re driving me crazy." His thumb circles over your clit and your hips rock in time with his movements. You're already so close, and he's barely touched you.

His tongue darts out to lick over your neglected nipple. You shudder, your nails dig into his shoulders and he hisses at the sweet sting.

"I want you," you plead, trailing a hand down the expanse of his back. He continues his ministrations, kissing and nipping at your sensitive bud while his fingers work smooth circles over your clit.

Your legs are practically shaking with desire but your needy whimpers are nothing compared to all that Chris is holding back while he strokes himself on his knees in front of you. You’ve hardly noticed that his hard cock is in his hand, leaking and angry red at the tip but that’s only because he’s swallowing every moan that he possibly can just so that he can hear you clearly. He wants to remember this.

"Chris," you moan, grinding up against his touch. He pulls back, letting your nipple go with a faint pop.

"What is it, love?" His face is twisted in pleasure as he pants, trying desperately to keep himself in check.

"I need you," You whine, grabbing and rubbing over his bare chest until you grab hold of one of his chains.

"Tell me what you want." He wants to hear you say it. He needs to.

"Fuck me." You breathe, your cheeks flushed. "Please."

Chris doesn't need any further encouragement. In a swift motion, he's standing and lifting you up again. His lips find yours in a hungry kiss and you melt against him.

He turns around and sits down with you straddling him. His bare cock rests against the soaked lace of your panties and he can’t help but to make a sound that he didn’t know was possible.

His hands grip your hips, digging in like you're the only thing grounding him to reality. "You're sure about this?"

He asks, his voice low and rough. You nod, reaching between you to move your panties to the side and sit your bare cunt over his length. He hisses, his breath catching in his throat "Oh, fuck." His head falls back against the sofa.

"Let me ride you," You whisper, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his neck. Chris’ face is red, blushed crazy with desperate desire and restraint. You lift up and pump his cock, spreading your dripping slick and getting him nice and wet before you sink down.

You two are a splitting image of each other. Faces twisted in pleasure, fingers digging into the other and choked moans spilling over your kiss swollen lips.

"Fuck, you're so wet." He groans, holding his breath just to make sure he doesn’t bust too fast. "So tight."

“You’re fucking big. Oh god.” Your head falls back, eyes shut tight as you take in the stretch of him.

Chris hisses, his hips instinctively bucking up into you. "Shit, sorry. Are you okay?"

He holds still, his hands massaging the swell of your ass. You nod, adjusting to his size. "Yeah, just please move. Don’t stop."

You're impatient, rocking your hips against him. Chris is quick to give in, rocking his hips up slowly until he loses it and starts snapping his hips up into yours. He drives his cock deep and hard into your fluttering cunt and you clench around him wildly, fucking down onto him like he’s the last man you’ll ever touch.

You can feel every inch of him, his length dragging along your walls and hitting every spot inside you. It's like the two of you are a perfect fit. Chris' hands roam over your body, mapping every inch of exposed skin.

"So fucking beautiful," he mutters, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he watches the way your tits bounce in his face. "Look at you, taking me so well." He holds your hips still, keeping you in place while he fucks his thick length up into you. You cling to him, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he fucks into you.

Chris' eyes flutter shut, a string of curses falling from his lips. His fingers dig into your hips with each bounce of you on his cock.

"Is this what you wanted, pretty girl?" He grunts and you clench, driving him closer to the edge. “Is that what you thought about?”

The sounds coming from the both of you are filthy. Pornographic in nature and incessant.

"Y-yes," you manage to gasp, your fingers digging into the muscles of his chest, surely leaving marks to remember you by. "Just like that. Oh, oh fuck, Chris. You're gonna make me cum."

Your words send him reeling, his thrusts faltering slightly. "Do it, baby," he rasps, his eyes burning into yours. "Cum all over my cock."

The coil in your belly snaps, his name spilling from your lips as you cum. Your release has his head spinning. The tight squeeze of your cunt and the sounds he has vibrating from your chest drag him closer to his own blinding release. He holds back, fucking you through your high with a sloppy rhythm.

"Fuck, I'm close." You pry his grip from your hips and lift up off of him, sinking down to your knees. You look prettier than Chris can handle, on your knees with his fur coat pooling around you. Your lips wrap around his throbbing cock and he moans, his hand finding purchase in your hair immediately.

"Shit, yes, oh god." He breathes, his hips rocking forward. "So good, jus’ like that." A deep, guttural moan escapes his lips and his hips stutter. "Fuck, oh fuck."

His eyes shut tight as you bury his cock deep in your throat, swallowing around him and milking his chest dry of every last ounce of oxygen he possessed.

You hum, reaching down between your legs and rubbing your throbbing pussy while he makes such pretty sounds above you.

"’M gonna cum," He groans, his accent thick and his grip on your hair tightening. You keep your pace, bringing your hand up to stroke what can’t fit into your mouth as you suck and lick him like you know everything that drives him crazy - because somehow, you do.

His jaw clenches, his abs tense and the muscles in his neck strain and suddenly you wish that you were still on top of him, letting him fill you full of his sticky seed but that will have to wait until next time.

Chris tenses above you, a loud groan erupting from him as the first spurt of hot cum falls against your tongue.

"Fuck, oh, fuck. Just like that, baby. ‘M cumming for you, take it all." He shudders, rambling as his body jerks as he spills himself down your throat. You swallow him greedily, his sweet taste lingering on your tongue.

Chris' breathing is heavy, his chest rises and falls rapidly while he watches you. You pull up off of him, kissing the head of his twitching dick while his heart races.

You smile at him, "Good?" You ask, wiping the corners of your mouth. “Are you kidding me?” Chris huffs out a breathy laugh. "So fucking good."

"Come here," He mumbles, lifting you up and bringing you to his lap. His coat drags behind you and he runs his hands up under the furry fabric and over your back. “You look so good in this.”

He fixes your dress, bringing it up to cover your exposed chest and smoothes the fabric over your thighs. “Do you say that to every girl you let borrow your clothes?”

Chris smiles, shaking his head and running his greedy hands up your thighs.

“You're the only girl I’ve ever let wear something of mine. And I’ll keep it that way under one condition.” You smile, resting your own greedy hands over his chest and leaning into him.

“What would that be?” He cups your cheek bringing you in for a soft kiss, much softer than what’s in his job description. In his defense, he’s never felt this much chemistry with any other lady who’s walked through the front door of this club.

“Come back soon, okay?” He smiles against your lips and kisses you again, whispering this time. “And I’ll make sure that you’re the only one wearing my clothes both inside and outside of the club.”

You mirror his smile, kissing his lips with a tenderness you didn’t foresee when you first met him.

“Deal.”

Thank You For Reading! 💕

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