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superswet · 6 months ago

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🌪️ whirlwind.

scott miller x reader Synopsis: the bar has always been a safe haven after a long week of storm-chasing, but when tyler owens decides you’re his lucky charm for the night, you find that scott’s control has its limits. Word Count: 6.4k (pls don't look at me) Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI!!!, mentions of near-death experiences, tornadoes (obviously), brief insinuations to cheating, tyler is a pot-stirrer, public sex, dry humping, fingering (f!receiving), degradation, nipple play (f!receiving), orgasm delay, biting?, scott miller has a whore mouth, minor choking, use of pet names (baby, sweetheart), lots of dirty talk, no use of y/n A/N: my first time posting fic & writing for scott so pls go easy on me 🥺 sometimes you just have to let a smug little asshole take over ur entire life, am i right? if you enjoyed, pls feel free to reblog or give it a like and as always, my inbox is open if you want to chat!!! 🤍

It’s been a grueling week, one tornado after another hammering Oklahoma into a state of disarray.

You’re still shaken from the last one, the anxiety of being alone in a motel with your thoughts almost unbearable. You’ve tried to avoid being alone since then, afraid that something worse is always on the horizon, and the thought of being isolated in a room while the rest of the team is out doesn’t sit well.

The bar, though, is a familiar sanctuary. A small comfort amidst the chaos. Even though you’re drained and the idea of socializing feels monumental, tradition is tradition. Javi’s sad puppy eyes and the inevitable guilt trip on the drive back to HQ tomorrow is enough to push you out of bed and into the shower.

And, as much as you don’t want to go, it feels wrong when even Scott makes an effort to go.

By the time you step into the dimly lit bar, clinking glasses and the hum of chatter soothe your worries quickly away. Whirlwind may have seen more than its fair share of fights and other throes of debauchery, but it was a frequent, favorite stop.

And it’s already packed. Between the locals and the other storm-chasers crowding the space, you can’t find Storm Par anywhere. A roar of laughter strikes from the pool tables, and you quickly pocket your phone, realizing you’ll have no luck calling or texting when it won’t even be heard over the noise.

Oh, well. You’ll find them soon enough. Making your way to the bar to greet Jack, the burly bartender who’s been running the place for years and has grown more familiar to you the more you frequent, you hear — rather than see — one of the storm-chasers you were hoping to avoid tonight.

Tyler. God damn. Owens.

You weren’t struck by his Southern charm — your days of easy flattery were past you — but he was hard to ignore. Then again, you should’ve known better by now. Tyler always seemed to be at his best when he had a crowd buzzing around him.

“I thought tonight couldn’t get any better, and then you walked in,” he drawls, finding a space alongside you as he sets his empty beer bottle down, his voice smooth. “Can I buy you a drink, darlin’?”

You consider turning him down, not sure if you’re up for his ego tonight, but you also know Tyler. He wasn't swayed easily, especially if he saw a challenge. Besides, a free drink was well, free, and as grating as he could get, you supposed one couldn't hurt. So you nod. “Sure, why not.”

Jack, who’d wordlessly gotten your drink as Tyler approached, sets a bottle of your favorite down in front of you, his brow raising to get your attention. You hesitate before taking it and catch his gaze shift slightly past you.

Before you get a chance to follow, Tyler steals your focus with a grin, the ever-present pain in your ass. You can’t fight your instincts to be polite. “So tell me. What’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?”

You meet his gaze, all swirling hues and open attraction. Maybe if you were that kind of girl, his smooth, clichéd lines would work on you. But you weren’t that girl. You preferred sensible. Practical. Safe. It was why you’d joined Storm Par in the first place, rather than one of the many other crews. This tornado wrangler just wasn’t for you.

Unfortunately for Tyler, he always seemed to miss that memo.

“Same as everyone else, I guess.” You laugh half-heartedly. Maybe if the conversation is light enough, you can slip away without it turning into a spectacle. “Just looking to unwind.”

If Tyler notices your lack of enthusiasm, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he makes a show of settling into his spot next to you, grin stretching wide. The beer in his hands is fresh and cold, same as yours, though unlike yourself he’s already taken a few drinks while you start to pick at the label. Javi would've poked fun by now, but your friend is nowhere near. Typical.

Tyler takes another drink, resting his arm on the bar, your eyes drifting to his tanned bicep. His grin stretches when he catches you looking, and you try not to scowl at falling for his display.

He continues with a well-used, “Well, you sure do brighten up the place.”

Thank god. Playing along, you don’t waste a second as your gaze wanders eagerly around the bar. From your new position you spot a cluster of tables on the other side of the room, Storm Par filling out the seats.

Scott sits alone at one of them, as he always did, but his posture is rigid, and even from a distance you can tell his focus is far from the game of darts Javi tries to include him in. Unsurprising. But rather than being distracted by his phone, worrying about the next job the team would have to take, his eyes are locked in on you.

The intensity makes you shiver. A few bottles sit empty next to him, and you only know they’re his by the unmistakable Guinness label adorning the side. A half-empty glass rests in his hand like he’d meant to take a sip before catching sight of Tyler.

Since joining Storm Par, the number of things you knew about Scott could be counted on your fingers. And in that time, you’d never seen him unwind. Not truly, anyway. As frustrating as it could be, you'd come to respect Scott's unwavering demeanor.

Amidst the chaos, no matter how intense it got, Scott was the stoic anchor of the team. There was a reason for his lectures and regulations. He was as dependable as the code he lived by, but most of the team often dismissed it as rigid and unnecessary. You knew it took strength and reliability to remain true to your values.

Much like you were forgoing now, your polite smile tight on your lips.

Beyond Javi, the rest of the team is scattered around Whirlwind, some dancing with reckless abandon on the makeshift dance floor while others clink shots over a job well done with the other storm-chasing crews. Scott is still firmly planted on the barstool, setting his glass down with a white-knuckled grip.

Tyler, of course, pays no attention. He leans in, casually inching closer to you, wrapping up some story of an exaggerated Wrangler exploit. Close enough to brush against you. When you glance down at the contact, Tyler notices where you’ve grown distracted, that easygoing grin slipping as he takes in your view.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tyler says with a sigh, head shaking in disbelief. “Just admit it — I’m a hell of a lot more fun than Storm Cloud over there.”

You disagree, but keep it to yourself. Tyler and his crew were reckless, and, sure, while there was some level of risk that came with what you all did, there was a clear difference between you and them.

It was part of what had drawn you to Scott in the first place. He was meticulous and no-nonsense, quick to call out mistakes whether you were out in the field or back in the office. But even Scott wasn't immune to a lecture or two — something he'd gone to great lengths to keep under lock and key.

And you only knew by accident.

Another sleepless night had driven you out of your room in search of coffee, leading you to a diner where you’d stumbled across him and Riggs in a heated discussion. Your Mama had taught you manners about eavesdropping, but you were frozen in place, listening to Riggs furiously drill into Scott over another fuck up (not his fault) and whether he was serious or not about the work they were doing. Before you could slip away unnoticed, not wanting to be lectured too, Scott’s eyes met yours, giving you a small, subtle shake of his head.

You’d run straight back to your room after, hoping that maybe it'd been a weird nightmare and you’d wake up to business as usual. But after another hour of tossing and turning, Scott’s familiar knock sounded at your door, and when you’d gathered the courage to meet him face to face, he’d looked just as conflicted as you felt. After what you’d heard, the way Scott took responsibility for every mistake and didn't throw anyone under the bus, keeping it between you two was the least you could do.

Something changed after that night. When a particularly nasty tornado touched ground a few weeks later and nearly swept you up in it, nobody questioned Scott’s decision to reassign you to Scarecrow. Nobody questioned why your partner had quit shortly after, either.

Scott still hadn’t asked why you’d been awake that night, just the same as you didn’t ask about Riggs.

You glance over at Scott again now, the memory fresh in your mind. His knuckles are just as white as when you’d found him in the diner, expression still shadowed, like he’s torn between intervening and letting it play out. But even with a crowd between you and the two men, the tension is thick, crackling in the air.

Tyler leans in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as glances over at Scott. “He’s got that brooding thing down to an art, doesn’t he? Don’t you ever crave a little spontaneity?”

You shift away from Tyler, the weight of Scott’s gaze growing heavy. From the corner of your eye you can just barely make out the hard set to his jaw, no longer working the cinnamon gum he obsessively kept on him. You manage a tight smile, distracted, as Javi’s voice rises briefly above the noise — your attention divided between the brewing storm on the other end of the bar and the eye of the one you were currently stuck in.

“I… I think we all have our reasons for sticking around.” You say, just as Javi finally notices you, his smile dimming as his gaze slides to Tyler.

Shit.

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” Tyler’s drawl is playful, almost teasing, and if he sees that you’re not even looking at him anymore, he doesn’t seem to care. “I’m just saying. If you ever want to get away from Clipboard over there...”

This time you do look with a flash of agitation. “If I wanted that, I’d be part of your team, Tyler. Not his.”

“Now, hold on, just hear me out for a second.” Tyler takes another pull from his drink, but when he sets it back down, he’s too close yet again. Fingers brush unwarranted against you, his touch lingering in a way that immediately makes your skin crawl. “How about we make a deal? Let me show you a good time tonight, and I promise you won’t even remember his name by the end of it.”

The suggestion hangs heavy in the air. You're only just barely aware of the way your features shift as background noise fades and you’re left with a high-pitched ringing in your ears, each emotion rolling through you longer to process than the last. By the time disgust sets in, flinching away from his wandering hands, you see past the red just enough to catch his grin widening in amusement.

And you realize, with terrifying clarity, that he’s been toying with you the whole night, just to start something with your team. You try not to tremble, swallowing your rage, and remind yourself that you'll be kicked out if dump your drink on him.

A stool scrapes loudly from the other side of the room. Whatever semblance of peace snaps.

“Uh oh.” Tyler notices Scott’s approach, and has the audacity to flash you a smile. “Looks like we’ve got company. He sure knows how to kill a mood, doesn’t he?”

You don't have a chance to respond, Scott stopping beside you, barely restrained anger coming off him in waves. You instinctively step closer to him, your drink forgotten and unwanted on the bar. His eyes flash with anger as he regards Tyler, that muscle working overtime in his jaw — and you know he's seen everything, from Tyler whispering into your ear to the look of repulse that you'd tried to hide.

“We need to talk.” Scott’s gaze shifts to you. You recognize the silent message he sends, the urgency in his voice as he fights to control his composure for your sake. “Now.”

“Ouch, Scotty. Not even a hello? And here I thought manners came with that fancy degree.” Tyler whistles low, appraising Scott like he’s not seconds away from getting his nose broken. “I was just getting acquainted with your friend over here. Giving her the whole Wrangler pitch. You know how it goes.” His smirk growing, he takes your silence as a cue to continue. “Come to think of it, wasn’t that how Gabby left? Told me she was over all the huffin' and puffin', especially after—”

“Enough.” Scott's interjection is loud and clear, your heart stuttering at the icy tone. When he slides an arm around your waist, the weight unfamiliar, you can’t tell if it’s to keep you from lunging at Tyler, or himself. You glance between Tyler's satisfied grin and the glare Scott sends him, confused. Who was Gabby? “Shut the fuck up for once, Owens. Seriously. Do us all a fucking favor.”

You still swim with questions as Scott pulls you close, no longer waiting for Tyler’s approval or response — not that he needed it in the first place. Lights cast long shadows as he navigates you between tables, the ringing in your ears lessening the further away from Tyler you get. Scott ushers you out the nearest exit, his palm warm against the small of your back.

The back door slams shut with a final click as you spill out into the alley together. It’s as dimly lit as the inside is, a singular dying bulb flickering just a few steps away. The sounds of the bar are muffled here now that your hearing has returned to normal, leaving only the distant hum of traffic and your ragged breathing.

The chilled air immediately hits you as Scott pulls away, and you watch, lost, as he paces angrily while you try to sort your thoughts out.

“What the hell was that? I thought you said you weren’t coming tonight.” Scott’s voice is sharp, cutting through the night like a knife. He turns to face you with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken, his scowl reflecting the look he gets when he's about to unleash on someone. “You said you needed space, time to clear your head… So why are you here? With him?”

“I know. Plans change,” you reply, caught off-guard, hoping to sound casual even as you hook your finger nervously under the strap of your dress. You’ve never seen Scott this worked up before, and it’s unsettling.

“Plans change?” Scott scoffs, his voice rising with every word. “That’s your excuse? You say one thing, and then do the complete opposite? What was your plan, then? To drink with Tyler and maybe let him drive you home? Was that the idea?”

You’re taken aback by the sharpness of his words. “It was just a drink, Scott. I needed to get out and clear my head.”

“Just a drink?” Scott’s eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer, his frustration barely contained. “Do you really think I’m that naive? Tyler doesn’t just do ‘just a drink.’ He’s always looking for something more. And you—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “He makes a mess of everything he touches. You know what he’s like. Hell, you’re smart enough to see through his bullshit. So why are you letting him get close to you?”

“Scott, it’s not like that,” you protest, your voice wavering slightly under his scrutiny. “I needed to get out. It had nothing to do with him.”

“And you couldn’t find another way to clear your head? Without him? Without the guy who’s known for causing chaos?” His voice is thick with emotion, the carefully controlled mask he usually wears slipping away to reveal the raw frustration and fear beneath. “You think I don’t see what’s happening here? I’ve been through this before, and I’m not going to stand by and watch you make the same mistakes.”

“What are you implying?” You ask, confused and angry.

“I’m saying I think you’re using Tyler as a distraction,” Scott says, his voice sharp, “A way to escape from everything you’ve been dealing with.”

Frustration prickles at his words, and even though you try not to, it’s hard to keep the edge from your voice. “Escape? That’s not— I’m not running away from anything.”

“We’ve had a rough week. I know it’s been hard on you,” Scott says, his tone softening slightly, though he still looks on edge. His jaw ticks again, and your gaze immediately darts to the pack of gum you know he keeps in his right back pocket. “But if you’re letting someone like Tyler pull you away from what really matters, it’ll only make things worse. I’ve seen too many people get hurt by him.”

Your anger flares at his scolding, hating that you found yourself in one storm, only to be led willingly into the next. “And what, Scott? You think you know me so well that you can just decide what’s best for me?”

“No, I’m just—” Scott shakes his head, taking a step toward you, then rethinking it. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Safe?” You try to suppress a laugh, but it comes out bitter. “Safe doesn’t really exist in our line of work, and you know that.”

Scott’s eyes flash with a mix of frustration and something else you can’t quite place. He takes a deep breath, struggling to steady himself. “You think I don’t know that? When things go wrong, I need to know that I can count on the people around me to handle their shit.”

You raise an eyebrow, uncertain where this is going. “And what exactly does that have to do with Tyler or me?”

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks, his tone almost pleading. “When you’re involved, everything gets complicated. I can’t think straight when you’re involved. I can’t focus. Hell, I can’t even sleep at night.”

Scott runs a hand through his hair, his fingers gripping tightly as if trying to ground himself. “That tornado— When the equipment malfunctioned because Dale failed to follow the calibration protocols I specifically fucking outlined— I was frozen, just paralyzed with fear. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I knew we couldn’t make it to you in time.”

You still, remembering how quickly Scott had cornered Dale when you got back. You’d thought it was because of the readings and the instructions he’d ignored that had nearly cost you both your lives.

Scott’s breath hitches as he continues. “It would’ve been my fault. My responsibility. My orders. I was convinced I’d lost you. And I thought if I could just keep you safe, try to control the chaos, that it might make things better. But seeing you with Tyler tonight... It’s like I’m back in that moment, feeling helpless, and I—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “Look, I’m not going through that again. I can’t.”

His voice cracks, and you see the depth of his internal struggle. “I’m just… trying to protect you,” he admits quietly, “but I don’t know if you even see it that way.”

His words weigh heavy, the shock of it ripping right through you. Scott Miller didn't go out of his way to be kind.

You're pulled back through the last few months: the coffee, just the way you liked it, that Scott always had waiting for you after a chase; his lack of scorn when you fell asleep on him in the van the next morning, when exhaustion wins and his silence becomes safety; the lingering, unasked question on his lips every time you were tasked to go out onto the field again and you agreed, over and over, despite the very real fear of the very thing you chased.

For a moment, everything else fades away — Tyler, the bar, the noise.

“Scott.” Your voice breaks through the quiet in a whisper, drawing close to him. Your hands glide gently along the black fabric of his shirt, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. “I’m here,” you say, your voice steady but soft. “I’m with you.”

For a moment, that vulnerability continues to swim in his eyes. And then he steps closer, his fingers wrapping around your wrists. You think, for a split second of panic, that he means to push you away and close himself off the way he usually does; instead, his thumbs rub tenderly at your palms, the action so gentle and unlike him that it makes your breath stall.

Instinctively your gaze meets his, forgetting (as you often did) just how big he actually was. Tall, broad, and deliciously toned; when you thought of Scott, you thought of him behind a desk, not running laps around his neighborhood and clocking in hours at the gym. Your uniforms did an amazing job of hiding his physique, but it’s impossible to ignore now. His black undershirt clings to him like a second skin and reveals the hard, taut muscles of his body, further evidence of the control he wielded so effortlessly.

His eyes search yours, the intoxicating scent of his cologne enveloping you. You’ve never seen him so open before, and as his hands smooth down your arms to the curve of your waist, there’s a sense of urgency in his touch that he doesn’t vocalize.

Fear. Longing. Desire. His jaw sets again as his gaze drops to your mouth, and you think, for one terrifying moment, that he won’t do it. Would he regain his composure, push you away, then act like nothing had happened the next morning? His brows furrow, as if reading your thoughts. Maybe you’d be reassigned just to avoid the awkwardness of it all. Scott could send you packing with just a phone call.

Your heart pounds, frozen in place, each second lasting an eternity. His fingers flex on your waist, the electrifying touch causing your lips to part and your lashes to flutter. The sight makes his throat bob.

“God damn it,” he groans, his voice guttural.

It’s the only warning you get before his mouth descends onto yours. Though his lips are smooth, there’s nothing gentle about the way Scott kisses you. His mouth moves hungrily against yours, devouring and demanding and all-consuming, like you’re the very air he needs to breathe. You sigh, aching for more, that dull fire inside you growing hotter at the groan that escapes him. As he fists a hand in your hair, he wraps a strong arm around your middle to pull you closer, deepening the kiss.

“Scott…” Bunching his shirt in your hands, you’re helpless when he nips at your bottom lip, pulling desperate, needy sounds from you. As he trails hot open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, finding every spot with ease, his fingers wrap gently around your throat, your pulse racing against his thumb.

“God, I’ve wanted you like this for months,” Scott murmurs against your skin, his voice a low growl that makes your thighs clench. A soft moan escapes as you tilt your head to give him better access, his noise of approval rumbling deep in his throat. “I’ve dreamt of this.”

He presses you into the wall behind you as he ravages your neck, all teeth and tongue and the kind of marks that you’ll have to find excuses for in the morning. A shiver sends you arching up into him, fingers slipping into his hair as he palms your breast, lowering his mouth to suck a greedy mark there. You whine at the friction you’re missing, hips circling the air, desperately hooking your fingers into his belt loops to drag him closer.

“Shhh,” Scott pauses to hitch your leg up, slotting his knee between your thighs. Dark blue eyes drink in the sight of you as he squeezes your ass, a cocky smile spreading on his pink and swollen lips. “I know, sweetheart. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” You mewl when his knee brushes against your heat, enough to have you rolling helplessly against him but not enough to satisfy your desires. “So pretty, so desperate.”

“Yes,” You grip him harder for some semblance of a tether, that condescending, degrading voice only adding fuel to the fire. Did he know what you fantasized about late at night? The shower running to muffle your moans while you touched yourself to his deep voice, lecturing you over a simple mistake? Open desire swirls in your eyes, pleading now, every want laid bare for him. “Please, I want it.”

Scott’s low noise of approval sounds in his throat, pressing closer to give you what you need. You’d be half-ashamed at the way you eagerly grind against him if his own arousal wasn’t hard against your hip, straining, large and throbbing with every roll of your hips. The material of your panties do nothing to stop the delicious ache of his worn jeans against your clit, too many pieces of fabric between you, trying to quiet pretty sounds as you bite your lip.

“Look at you,” Scott growls, your dress inching higher as he seizes your hips, helping you find a rhythm. Hooking the lace of your panties under his fingers, he tugs the material up tight enough together to elicit a hiss, a dimple playing at the corner of his mouth as he smirks, “Is this all for me, baby?”

Barely managing a nod, you meet his eyes through thick lashes and whimper at the expression on his face. That intense gaze drinks in every inch of you like you’re a piece of art and the last thing he wants to remember, his usually stormy eyes hazy with desire.

“God damn... You just can’t get enough, can you, baby? When you touch yourself at night, do you think about me? Rubbing that needy little pussy on your pillow ‘cause you just can’t help it?” You press harder into him in response, his answering laugh dark against your ear. “But it’s never enough, is it? You always crave more, something thicker, something stronger.”

You whine against the loss of contact as he drops his knee, the sting of your panties snapping against your skin quickly forgotten when he trails his digits along the swell of your mouth. You open up greedily, the salty taste of his skin on your tongue intoxicating as you wrap your lips around him.

“I bet you look so pretty,” he continues, his voice ragged, “Spread out like a top dollar whore with your cunt in the air, gagging on your fingers and wishing it were me. Wondering how many you need to suck on to fill you up just right. How many do you think, baby? Two? More?”

Scott pulls his fingers out with a pop, nuzzling against you as you try to remember to breathe. “Would you even be able to use that brain of yours, baby? Or would you be so fucking desperate to fill your hole that you’d use however many fit?”

He hikes up your dress while he pushes his hand in your panties, fingers slipping through your soaked folds. Fuck. He slowly circles your clit, stealing the breath from your lungs as you arch up into him. “Oh, I know, sweetheart. It doesn’t feel like this, does it?”

Not even close. Worst of all, you weren’t even sure if Scott knew just how true it was. Other men may have excited you, but nothing compared to this — not you, not the others you took to your bed, not even the fantasy Scott you envisioned. You buck helplessly against him, eager for more, whimpering out some sort of half-reply as you grip his wrist in a pathetic effort to keep him there.

Scott just grins. “What’s wrong, baby? Am I going too slow for you?” When he softens his touch, your nails dig into his skin, leaving little crescent moon marks. Lips desperately search for his, your eyes half-lidded and hazy. “I knew you’d be greedy,” he hums, gripping you roughly by the chin, his thumb swiping over your parted lips. “Letting me play with your pussy like this, where anyone could walk out and see how much of a slut you’re being.”

You bite back a moan as you remember where you are, glancing frantically at the door like it might open any second. Your pulse skyrockets when he resumes teasing, circling your clit then dipping down to press at your entrance. Fingers close around the fabric of his shirt, meaning to push him away and only pulling him closer with another desperate whine. “Scott, please…”

“Fuck.” There’s a dark look that flashes across his face, voice rough and ragged, and you watch, with nothing to shield his gaze, as his control snaps.

Sliding his hand over your mouth, it’s the only warning you get before he sinks a thick digit into your weeping cunt. The growl that escapes him when you automatically clench around it only makes you wetter, paralyzed with lust as he works you into pliancy. You pant, chest heaving, as he finds a steady rhythm that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, every moan muffled against the palm of his hand as you arch into his touch.

You cry out when he adds a second finger, rocking your hips desperately as he angles his hand just right to rub against your clit. “Harder— Please, more—” The words are strangled, spilling out of you mindlessly now, unable to think beyond the way Scott stretches you out. You grab a fistful of his hair as he groans against your neck, dragging teeth and tongue along your skin, freeing your breasts from your dress before covering your mouth again.

“So god damned sexy,” he growls, quick to lap at your hardened nipples, the flat of his tongue spilling another pretty sound from your throat. He curls his digits deeper inside you, the wet schlick of your heat loud in your ears as he sets a brutal pace, switching his attention to your other neglected nipple.

Breath hot against your skin, Scott relishes how you become putty in his hands, holding onto him for support as he strokes that burning fire in you.

“Perfect fucking tits. Perfect fucking pussy. Jesus, sweetheart,” he nips at your skin, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Is this what you like? Being used like my own personal fucktoy? What would the others think if they saw you right now, fucking yourself stupid on me like a bitch in heat?”

He slips his fingers out long enough for you to beg, his smile dark against your skin while you whimper in desperation — and then he’s pushing back into you, stretching your hole with every rough thrust of his fingers. “Hear that, sweetheart? Even your body knows it’s meant to be mine.”

Scott kisses you hungrily as he drops his free hand to your breast, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you scream. His fingers slick harder into you, his cock thick and grinding into your hip while you try to breathe against his storm, your own control slipping as you fist his dark curls in your hands, looking for leverage.

“That’s it,” he growls, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “This is my fucking pussy, isn’t it, baby? You wanna cum for me? Let the whole bar know you’re my toy to play with?”

“Please, please, please—” You can’t think beyond the brutal pace he’s set, not even sure that your voice sounds human as you babble, eyes big and watering. “Wanna cum for you, please, I need it—”

“You need it?” You gasp as the pain on your nipple subsides only for him to pinch the other, something dark and destructive swirling heavy in his blue eyes. You shiver at the expression, the carnal desire written so clearly over his face, every word out of his mouth deep, commanding, leaving no room for debate. “I’ll tell you when you get to cum. This is mine.” Pressing the heel of his palm hard against your clit, he watches with glee as you clamp down on your bottom lip to keep from screaming, obeying his command even as your body fights.

Your knees nearly buckle at the growl in his voice. Every thrust of his fingers brings you closer to the edge, the heat overwhelming. How many nights had you spent with your fingers in your cunt, picturing scenario after scenario of him taking you in the van, in the bathroom, on his desk after hours?

“Say it,” Scott insists. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You meet his gaze, the intensity of it nearly sending you over the edge. “I’m yours,” you say, caught between a moan and something stronger, your words choking off.

“Again.” His expression tightens, picking up speed. “Louder.”

“I’m yours!” Your body trembles with the effort to stay upright, writhing against him. The words feel like a vow, your grip on Scott tight as you sob them into him. “My pussy is yours, my body is yours— Just a pathetic, dirty, worthless hole for you to fuck— Fuck, Scott, please—”

Scott growls in response, fisting his hand in your hair as finds the spongey spot inside of you. His digits work you hard, the veins in his arms on display as you bite back a scream, waiting, begging, needing. “Cum,” he grunts, the sound of his fingers driving into you loud and damning, “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum for me.”

You fall over the edge hard and fast, crying out as all the tension from the night finally snaps. It feels like an eternity as he continues fucking you through it, every filthy promise spelled out clearly with his lips at your ear.

By the time you come crashing back down, you’re shaking and empty, blinking back stars as Scott steps back. “Oh my god,” you gasp, fighting to catch your breath, mind still a mess as you try to piece together everything that happened. “That was…”

You watch, mesmerized, as Scott sucks his fingers into his mouth, a groan of approval sounding deep in his throat. And when he squeezes at his bulge straining against his zipper, your core clenches tight at the thought of his weight on top of yours, fucking you into submission again and again until he gets his fill.

“Just the beginning,” Scott promises, stepping toward you to tilt your chin up, his free hand coming down to tighten around your soaked panties and pull. They rip easily in his strong grasp, his grin triumphant as he stuffs them into his back pocket. “You won’t be needing these anymore.”

“Why?” Your body tenses with anticipation, noting the defined dimple in his cheek, the kind of grin he only wore when he was about to be incredibly, infuriatingly smug.

“Because,” he hums, full of condescension, “I didn’t hear a thank you.”

Before you can fix your mistake, Scott silences you with a kiss, his mouth patronizingly gentle as a wicked laugh sounds in the back of his throat. “Don’t worry,” he says, dropping another chaste kiss to your mouth, your nose, the space between your creased brows. “It won’t happen again. I’ll teach you, sweetheart.”

Goosebumps rise on your flesh as Scott adjusts your dress to cover your exposed body, the act so gentle and unbecoming that you freeze enough to let him. The moment only lasts a minute, your eyes meeting as he squeezes the curve of your ass when he’s done, all that vulnerability you had seen locked away again, like he’s guarding himself as reality comes back to life.

A muscle feathers in his jaw as his gaze shifts from you to the back door you’d spilled from. You’ve known Scott long enough by now to know he won’t be the one to say what’s hanging in the air. It would be easier, safer, to walk back in like nothing had happened and return to the motel alone, hitching a ride with anyone other than Scott the next morning.

But if you turn away now, you’ll never see that side of him again: the side that stayed up with you when he could be sleeping, the kind that comforted you without words, the kind that lit your world on fire with every bruising mark he’d left on you. The chance of knowing the man behind the mask.

You don’t miss the way his muscles tense under your touch as you reach for him or the flash of relief that flickers through him. “You think I’m teachable?” You ask, turning big eyes up at him, begging him to see the way you lay yourself bare for him — hoping, praying, that he doesn’t turn you down even still.

“I’m not an easy teacher.” He says, low, still guarded. Still giving you one last out.

You shake your head, a laugh tumbling out. His throat bobs at the sound. “I don’t want easy.” The truth of that hangs heavy in the air, zipping between the two of you as recognition passes through his eyes. “Now are you driving, or am I?”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he presses his tongue into his cheek and takes a step back. “My van, my rules,” he says, his voice softer now but still firm, and you hear the familiar rumble of the Storm Par van coming to life. His keys jingle in his hand as he adds, “You should know that by now.”

You bite your lip, suppressing a smile, and follow him out of the alleyway.

You did know. And as you settle into the passenger seat, the scent of the van enveloping you — a mix of old leather and Scott’s cologne — anticipation crackles in the air. The night stretches ahead, full of unspoken possibilities.

You couldn’t wait to test how far those rules went... and just how much you both were willing to bend them.

#twisters #twisters x reader #scott twisters #scott twisters x reader #scott (twisters)#scott (twisters) x reader #scott miller #scott miller x reader #scott twisters x you #scott twisters x y/n #scott miller x you #*fic #**#fic: whirlwind.#thank yuuu for reading! 🥺🩷

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dirtylittlesecre7 · 26 days ago

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Hiii I was wondering if we could get a dom!cho hyun-ju x f! Reader where weve bee feeling kind of insecure so she helps prove that theres nothing to be insecure about? Do u think u could add some praise, hand holding n whatever else u would like to add? Pls n thank u!!

! nsfw content !

dom gf!hyun-ju x f!reader

(these are happening in a way that the squid game does not exist)

word count | 1,5k

warning | smut, oral(reader receiving), yeah that's all

"aren't you ready yet?" the voice coming from outside the door made you swallow hard, you looked at yourself in the mirror again. you had made an agreement with your girlfriend to go out but you didn't want to go out now. you wanted to wear the dress hyun-ju bought for you on today's date but something seemed missing, you weren't feeling well, even looking in the mirror started to hurt so you turned your head away "I..I'll be ready in a minute."

hyun-ju looked at the clock and let out a breath when she realized that your reservation time was almost past. of course she would always wait for you but it had taken longer than necessary. after a while you heard another knock on the door "is everything okay..? if you need anything please tell me, should I come in?" her worried tone made you feel bad too, you didn't want to ruin anything on a day like this. hyun-ju was about to leave when she didn't hear anything from you but the sound of the door opening made her stop.

she looked at you, then her gaze roamed over your body, you looked so... perfect. she smiled slightly as she realized that you were embarrassed by her gaze and locked eyes with yours again. hyun-ju took a step closer and held your hands. "you're so beautiful, but why is your face so sulky, hm? tell me, darling." one of her hands went to your chin and made you look at her. you could barely put your thoughts into words but finally managed to speak. "I..I don't feel very good in this dress..don't get me wrong- you bought it for me and it's absolutely beautiful but..I think I diminished it's beauty by wearing it."

a sigh filled the air, hyun-ju entered the room and then closed the door and placed both hands on your cheek, her thumbs drawing small circles as you began to relax under her touch. "I don't want you to say things like that. please. I know it's hard to change your mind no matter what I say and I hate it but..I wish you could see how you look through my eyes." her hands went down to your waist and with small steps she led you to where the mirror was, now with your back turned to her you were looking at yourself in the mirror again. hyun-ju tilted her head slightly to the side and placed a small kiss on your neck "every part of you is so beautiful, so precious." another kiss, her voice was lower this time "I am so lucky to have you, such a delicate beauty that would make angels jealous..it's completely unfair for you to feel so insecure when everyone around you is talking about your beauty, my little baby."

you turned your head to her, every word she said caused your eyes to fill with tears, hyun-ju's face filled with worry as she felt a pain in her heart the moment she realized this "who talked about me?" she knew you were upset right now but when she heard your soft voice and saw the way your bottom lip pouted, she couldn't help but giggle at your sweetness, and kissed your lips, wiping your bottom lip with her thumb as the lipstick you had just applied smeared with her "last week when we met the others, you got up to go to the bathroom and as soon as you left, se-mi made a comment about how your skirt looked good on you. well..I can't say she was wrong of course but I have to admit I was jealous. you attract attention everywhere we go and it makes me happier to have you."

you tried to process what she said, hyun-ju gave you a moment to give yourself time but her gaze fell on the strap of your dress that had fallen off your shoulder. you flinched slightly when you felt her fingers on your shoulder while you were lost in thought, raised your head to her but she wasn't looking at you, her eyes traveled from your shoulder to your neck "y/n.." you answered while the way she said your name made your body shiver "yes?" the moment hyun-ju heard your weak voice, it was all over for her, neither the restaurant nor anything else on her mind. she lowered the strap of your dress again and kissed your shoulder. whispered "we're late enough for the reservation..."

she made you lie down on the bed and was soon on top of you. "I'm sorry..I didn't mean for it to happen-" your sentence was cut off when hyun-ju's hand slid under your dress and caressed your thigh. "shh..there's nothing to apologize for." looked into your eyes with desire. "let me prove how beautiful my girlfriend is, with or without a dress." she delicately removed the single piece of fabric you were wearing, she was eager to touch you but she liked to savor this moment more slowly. soon you were left with only your panties, her fingers finding your clit through the fabric as she kissed your lips hungrily, sucking on your bottom lip and you let out a whimper when your tongues met.

her kisses slowly moved down, first to your neck, then to your breasts, lingering for a while before coming to your stomach. you giggled slightly as the tiny kisses tickled you. hyun-ju smiled when she heard your laugh and lifted her head. "that's it. I always want to see you laugh." continued, the wet kisses she left in between were making your mind blurry. you admired how she could take away all your worries, even a single kiss could make you forget all the bad things.

as she went down further, she kissed your clit through the fabric, hand stopped you as you were about to close your legs, she raised her head and looked at you "I want you to keep your legs open, okay little one?" you just nodded in approval, you didn't want to wait any longer and she knew it very well. took off your panties without waiting too long and got between your legs, her hand found your hand and intertwined your fingers "hyun-ju.." you said her name needily. without making you wait any longer, her tongue met your pussy, she sucked your clit for a while, and then she went down a little further, stuck her tongue in your hole. you squeezed the hand you held with a loud moan, hyun-ju continued to destroy you with her tongue while she started caressing your hand with her thumb.

her movements were slow and seductive but when you didn't expect it, she sped up, she grabbed your leg with her free hand and spread it wider, making it easier for her to eat you out. all you could do at that moment was moan her name. even though she had done this often, holding hands made you feel strangely embarrassed. hyun-ju always made gestures like this during sex and she always managed to embarrass you. in fact, at that moment you realized how unimportant the thoughts of the people around you were, when you had a girlfriend like this and were loved like this, you didn't want to care about others anymore. there was only her and you.

hyun-ju's movements didn't stop, her tongue was moving rapidly inside your pussy while her hand holding your leg slowly moved from your belly to your breasts, when she started playing with your hardened nipple with gentle movements, you let out another loud moan, she knew very well which parts of your body were sensitive. after a while the pleasure you were getting from both sides started to be too much, you moved your hips and your stomach tightened, you knew you were close to cumming "hyun-ju..I..I'm..c-close.." you could barely speak between your moans, just threw your head back in pleasure. hyun-ju moaned as your hips moved around her face and after a while you couldn't hold yourself back any longer and came in her mouth.

she pulled back, looking at the juices flowing from your pussy before looking at you who was exhausted. she grinned slightly, oh she loved eating you out so much, she could do this all day long but she had other things to worry about right now. her lips were glistening from your juices, licked her own lips and leaned in closer, kissing your cheek. “I love you so much.” buried her head in your neck. “please don’t hesitate to talk to me at times like this, I don’t like you being by yourself, I’m always here. always.” her arms wrapped tightly around your waist and she laid down on the bed, pulling you to her. “we’re late for dinner..” you purred, she chuckled and pulled back slightly to look at your face. “I got more than what i wanted, but I can still make you something if you’re hungry?” saw you avert your eyes shyly and kissed your forehead with a smile. “you rest here, I’ll go and make sure you get fed well.” she put the covers over you and looked at you one last time before leaving the room. when the door closed, there were no bad thoughts or anything else on your mind anymore.

#squid game imagine #squid game x reader #hyun ju x reader #squid game smut #squid game imagines

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eightmakesonebraincell · 1 year ago

Text

ateez as royals who fall for you (maknae line)

read hyung line here

genre: royalty!ateez x fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, crack, a brainrot and smutfest of royal tropes

length: 11.3k

c/w: very nsfw scenes - mdni, explicit language (dirty talk, swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, heavy & mature themes (sex work, murder, assassination, execution, mentions of misogyny)

a/n: as much as writing royals was tricky, it's kind of 🤢 sad 🤢 to see this au end. that being said nobody ask me for a pt 2 pls i need to recover from the trauma LMAOO and as always, huge thank you to the queen of royal au's herself @sorryimananti-romantic for helping me finish the fic and for teaching me how to make moodboards using something that is *not* word doc :')

san

pov: you're forbidden lovers

“shh,” san hushes you with a teasing curl of his fingers that are buried inside you. “wouldn’t want everyone outside to know what a dirty little slut the princess is, do you?”

his other hand covers your mouth, stifling the breathy moans and desperate whines that escape your lips as you sit in between his legs, naked and pressed back to lean against his chest

there is the sound of water splashing over the edge of the bathtub when san hooks his feet around your inner ankles so that he can spread your legs wider for him

he presses the palm of his hand harshly against your clit and your back arches with a muffled worship of his name

“or maybe you like that,” he teases “you like the idea of people knowing how good i make you feel with my fingers”

san removes his hand from your mouth and lowers it to pinch your nipple, smirking against your neck as you babble incoherently

he coos as he adds yet another finger into you, “imagine that, everyone knows you as the princess who loves being fucked dumb. and by one of her servants, no less”

all caution is thrown to wind and you drop your head back to lean against his shoulder, mouth lolling open with unrestrained pleads for more, more, faster as he angles his fingers to hit that sweet spot inside of you

“cum, princess” he demands

you grip bruises onto san’s thighs and arms when the pace of his fingers doesn’t relent even after your orgasm has washed over you

his arms tighten around you as his thighs flex to keep you still in his hold

you let out a choked sob from the overstimulation, teetering between pain and pleasure

“give me one more, i know you can do it,” he coaxes

the hand that has been fondling your breasts snakes down to rub your clit

with his fingers knuckle-deep inside of your pussy and his other hand playing relentlessly with your sensitive clit, the scale tips over and your vision blurs as another wave of pleasure hits you, more intense than the first one

“princess?” and then a knock. “are you okay?”

san slowly draws out the remainder of your orgasm with lazy thrusts of his finger into you

you just know he’s enjoying himself when you have to hide the shakiness in your voice to answer back to your maid outside, “everything’s fine. i’ll be done soon”

“soon?” san smirks, lifting you up by the waist to align your folds with his swollen cock. “then we better make this quick”

because you and san do not have the luxury of time, much less the luxury of love

he isn’t just another one of the numerous servants who serve you

he is everything to you despite how taboo it is for a princess and servant to love each other

his insignificance within the palace makes it much easier for him to slip away; for nobody to take notice

but at the same time, his insignificance is the whole reason why you two must be secretive in the first place

you make sure san has safely snuck out of the bathroom before you finally exit the bathtub and stand on unsteady legs

you allow your maids to come in and help you into the elaborate attire you are to wear for the afternoon

your parents have informed you that you are going to have visitors, thus requiring you to look your best

without much time left until the appointed meeting due to your…escapade, you make your way to the great hall, catching a glimpse of san’s dimpled smile from amongst the other body servants and waiting staff in the room

you have only just settled into your seat next to the king and queen when the guard outside the doors announces the arrival of your guests - the monarchs from the neodonian kingdom

schooling your expression to one of neutrality, you watch as they enter

and then you realise it isn’t just the neodonian king and queen who have come to visit

but the prince as well

he is undeniably handsome and pleasing to the eye with his sleekly gelled hair, chiseled features and tall, sturdy build

the young prince catches you looking at him and breaks out into a friendly smile and-

he has dimples too

the king garners everyone’s attention with a clear of his throat, before he welcomes the monarchs

prince jaehyun, you learn his name is

“after much discussion between ourselves and king jeong and queen jeong, we are pleased to announce our desire for closer relations between our kingdoms,” your father starts, booming voice resounding within the hall

you can’t stop yourself from looking over at him as he speaks with purpose, a strange niggling feeling starting to twist your stomach

the tight smile that your mother passes you from your father’s other side does little to settle your nerves

“as such,” the king continues, “we shall look forward to the engagement between my daughter and prince jaehyun”

there is a roaring sound in your ears, as if you have been pushed to stand under a raging waterfall

engagement

the engagement

you

prince jaehyun

the engagement between you and prince jaehyun

it takes everything in your body not to bolt up from your seat

your hands grip the armrests of your seat with a grasp so tight you are certain you will leave a permanent imprint of your agony

instead, you look around frantically for the one person your instincts are screaming for

where is san?

you are afraid to see how much this is going to hurt him

you are desperate to tell him that you had no idea about this

you are aching to press confessions of love and reassurance against his lips

but just like the insignificance of his status, san is nowhere to be seen

over the two years that you and san have been in your secret relationship, he has gained extensive knowledge of which particular tasks allow him a greater chance of seeing you, which corridors reach you the quickest, and which times during your schedule you have a break

never would you have thought he would use this knowledge to avoid you

it continues like that for the weeks following the announcement

you have no choice but to spend time with your future fiance when your father tells you very clearly to “ensure the prince feels at home”

prince jaehyun is warm and you find yourself getting along with him like you two are friends, but that is it - there are no sparks brighter than friendship

when you spend time with him, you cannot help but compare him to san; san would’ve said this, san would’ve done that, san, san, san

jaehyun engages you in conversation, easily filling in the gaps and lulls with little comments here and there, equipped with a charming laugh and deep dimples

but it only reminds you of san’s dimples and crescent eyes when you two would race through corridors, fingers tightly interwoven as you both run away to a secluded area with hushed giggles

jaehyun points out that neither of you like mushrooms during a dinner and helps nudge the servings on both of your plates to one side

the smile as you say “thank you” does not fully grace your lips because you think about san, who boasts that he will eat all the mushrooms in the world so that you never have to lay eyes on one ever again

jaehyun offers a soft yet sturdy hand to help you down the stairs or when he notices you are walking in heels across an uneven surface

your body recalls san’s rough, calloused hands that leave a trail of goosebumps wherever they touch your bare skin as he worships your body all night long

jaehyun is handsome and he is kind, but he is not san

the night before the king officially announces your engagement with prince jaehyun arrives

and still, you have not had a moment alone with san since he disappeared during that first announcement in the great hall

hurt and longing consume you to the very core

some days it is manageable, a concealed yet incessant thought, like a sticker stuck to the sole of your shoe

other days it wraps around your soul completely like a constrictor tightening as it slowly squeezes the life out of its prey

but you know that you cannot be selfish

what you feel, san feels with an intensity multiplied several times

after all, you are not the one who must stand in the shadows as the love of your life becomes engaged to somebody else, powerless to do anything but watch and poison your own smile with lies

you are lying on your bed when a quick, sharp knock sounds on your bedroom doors

you make no move to acknowledge your visitor, having told your maids very clearly you did not want to be disturbed tonight

your last night as yourself before you become prince jaehyun’s fiance

but then the knocks come a little more urgent, a little more frantic, just like your heartbeat does as it starts to speed up in anticipation

you hold your breath as you hurry to pull open the doors-

and there he is

“san-”

he swallows the rest of your words in a desperate kiss, his hands coming up to cradle your jaw as he walks you backwards so that he can step into your room

he tilts your head and slots his lips against yours again while he nudges your door closed with his foot

it isn’t until you let out a whine as his tongue swipes over your bottom lip that he pulls back to finally look at you, both of his thumbs caressing your cheekbones

you grip the front of his linen shirt, afraid that he will disappear as soon as you let go

“san, i- i had no idea, i didn’t agree to any of this”

he shushes you gently, a painful smile adorning his handsome face

“i know. i know, so please don’t cry, love,” he murmurs softly

you don’t even realise the weeks of suppressed emotions have started making their way down your face in salty trails until san uses the back of his fingers to tenderly brush them away

“i’m getting engaged tomorrow, san,” your voice breaks as reality settles in

you are so afraid

you are so lost

above all, you are so in love with san

“i know,” he reassures again, “but until tomorrow, you are still mine”

and so you spend your last night together

time has always been precious; conversations, kisses and touches rushed and with fervour

but tonight, san takes his time with you

he lays on your bed with you cradled on top of him, limbs tangled together as he savours the taste of your lips against his

he turns you onto your back as he slowly undresses you, leaving tattoos of his love each time he bares another part of your body

he pleasures you with his fingers whilst whispering into your ears, creating a harmony with his praises and the melodious moans that leave your lips

and as he brings you both to your highs numerous times throughout the night like an ingrained dance routine, it is accompanied with confessions of i love you

san holds you against his chest under your blankets so tightly that you cannot tell where your body ends and his body starts

before you drift off, safe and protected in his arms, he murmurs against your temple, “no matter what happens tomorrow, no matter what happens in the future, my heart will always be yours”

“as will mine”

you wake up the next morning to an empty bed and an equally empty heart

restless and drowning in a mix of emotions, you pace the empty corridors of the guest bedchambers

which is where jaehyun finds you as he exits his room

he is surprised but is quick to greet you kindly, “good morning, princess. what are you doing here?”

you pause mid-step

what are you doing?

“prince jaehyun,” you let the words come out of you before you can regret them. “can we talk for a moment?”

he nods, entering his room again as he pulls the door open wider for you to follow

jaehyun closes the door and then offers you a seat on his sofa, before pulling up his own chair and settling a respectful distance away from you

“i hope you don’t feel uncomfortable in my room,” he explains, “i thought that we would be less likely to be disturbed in here…considering most people know of our engagement today”

“actually, i wanted to talk to you about that”

“go on,” he encourages you with a dimpled smile

you take a deep breath

“i’m sorry,” you blurt out

and then you are admitting to the prince that he is lovely and charming and caring, but you just don’t see it working out with him

you don’t want to get engaged with him

because your heart already belongs to somebody else

“good”

“i’m so sorry, i should have been honest with you from the start but- wait, what?” you look up from where you have been nervously picking at your cuticles

jaehyun is smiling at you - a genuine smile that you did not know he had

“i’m actually relieved to hear that, princess,” he admits. “because i…also have someone that i love back home”

and for the first time, you and jaehyun truly see each other in the same light

“who is it?” he asks

“his name is san,” and then you add on, “he has dimples just like you do”

you ask him the same question

you see the way jaehyun’s expression softens with love from just the mere thought of the other

it makes you wonder whether you have the same look on your face when you mention san

jaehyun jokes, “want to be the one who tells your father we’re calling off the engagement? i don’t fancy getting executed today”

but despite what he says, mere hours later, when you are both standing in the great hall before your parents - the kings and queens of both your kingdoms - he is the one to speak up

“your majesty, we have decided to part ways peacefully and would not like to proceed with the engagement. our kingdom will always be your ally, regardless of marital relations or not”

“what?” you see veins starting to appear across the king’s forehead as he tries to maintain his temper, but the queen and the jeong monarchs seem to be taking the news much better

disappointed, perhaps, but understanding

the queen leans closer to remind the king that they had all agreed to this engagement on the terms that the decision would ultimately be yours and jaehyun’s

you suddenly speak up because this may be the only time you have the courage to

“i have one more thing to say,” you declare. “i revoke my noble status and thus declare nullified all the privileges, rules and traditions that come with nobility. i have someone i love and i wish to marry them as myself, not as the kingdom’s princess”

the king roars furiously, “that is enough! leave!” and he slams his hand against the throne’s armrest

shocked and betrayed by your father’s reaction, you rush out of the great hall with tears welling in your eyes

only to run straight into the waiting arms of san

“oh, princess,” he murmurs against the crown of your head as he engulfs you in his embrace

he doesn’t have to say anything for you to realise that he has heard the whole conversation

but you do not care about anything anymore

you are where you want to be, held by who you want to be with

“how are you here?” you sniffle

“jaehyun approached me earlier. i thought i was going to get beat up,” san’s attempt to make you smile is successful

when you lift your head up to look at him, you realise his eyes are wet as well

then you feel his body stiffen as his eyes shift to focus on something behind you

someone

he immediately steps away from you, bowing deeply as he greets the queen

you turn around to see her face adorning an endearing smile

“it’s fine, sannie,” she says, and you are not sure whether you and san are more surprised by the fact that she knows him by name or by the affectionate nickname she has used

“i’ll, uh, leave you two to talk,” he flusters

she thanks him with a teasing remark, “i won’t keep her away from you for very long”

san waits further down the corridor, back turned to give you two a moment of privacy

and then she is stroking your hair affectionately

“i am so proud of you. you’ve grown up so well and you are so brave,” she says

you don’t understand

you ask, “why aren’t you angry?”

“oh, baby,” she fondly runs her fingers through your hair, just like she used to when you were younger. “before my duties as the queen to my people, i am the mother to my daughter. i love you and all i want is for you to be happy”

your lips tremble with emotion as your mother pulls you into a hug

“does sannie make you happy, dear?”

you nod, “the happiest”

“then that is all i want. now go,” she takes a hold of your shoulders and gently turns you in the direction of san. “i’ll talk to your father”

with one last encouraging squeeze, you race down the corridor towards san

he hears your footsteps and has already turned around with open arms waiting to catch you

you hear him let out an oomph! with how hard you throw yourself into him, but he is then swaying your bodies side to side

san pulls back slightly with an incredulous look. “does this mean we can be together? together together?”

“i goddamn hope so because i gave up my princess privileges for you. no more carriages, no more assorted sweet delicacies, no more daily massages-” you fold down your fingers as you continue listing things off

he cuts you off with a tickle to your sides as he says, “that’s easy to sort out”

“first, you’ll still be my princess,” he unfurls one of your fingers so it stands upright again

“second, i’ll carry you myself so that you never need to use your feet again,” he unfurls another finger

“i’ll give you a treat whenever you want,” he kisses your lips, nibbling on your bottom lip with a teasing tug

“and, dear princess,” he pulls you flush against his body and you have to steady yourself on his chest to avoid tripping over, “i can give you hourly massages…”

smirking, he starts to lower his head to suck pretty marks onto your neck as he whispers in a low voice, “...if you can keep up”

mingi

pov: you're the prince's maid

for what you are about to do, you could very well be executed should somebody catch you

but desperate times call for desperate measures

and there’s no guarantee that you and all the other staff will not be executed anyway…

not with what has just happened in the palace

you push the door closed behind you with a soft click, using the brief changeover of guards to slip inside the bedroom of the youngest prince, unnoticed

you call out softly but urgently, “prince mingi”

when you hear him groggily murmur, starting to bubble towards the surface of consciousness, you dare to give his shoulder a rough shake

“prince mingi, please wake up”

his eyes flutter open, confusion starting to clear the fogginess in his head as he struggles to comprehend the sight of your face hovering inches from his, deep into the hours of the night

“w-what’s going on?” he clears his husky voice, “are you okay?”

you wish you could reach out and smooth the wrinkles of concern from his forehead

reassure him that everything will be okay until he falls back asleep

but there is no time

“the crown prince is dead and we must leave. now.”

the effect is immediate, like you have just driven a knife into his chest

although you suppose it must not feel very different for prince mingi right now

“the crown prince is d-” the word tastes vile on his tongue, so he asks after his second oldest brother instead. “what about prince eun?”

you must drive the knife into him once more

“he was the one who murdered the crown prince, but he has framed you for the murder. there is no time, prince mingi, we must leave now”

“the court will find me innocent,” yet he lets you tug him out of his bed

you hastily help prince mingi into a dark brown robe while you shake your head, “not when your inscribed sword is currently covered in the crown prince’s blood. we do not know who is secretly working for prince eun. until we know for sure, we do not stand a chance of clearing your name”

he knows that you’re right, even if his heart is hoping that you are wrong

the prince slides his hand into the gap between his bed and wall, pulling out a spare sword and wrapping the belt around his waist

eyes sweeping across his chamber one final time, he locks eyes with you grimly before turning to flee

you follow the prince through a back passageway - it’s not entirely a secret and it won’t be long before the royal guards come for the prince, discover his empty bedroom and give chase

but it is long enough to give you two a head start

he helps you up onto the back of his personal horse before he swings himself up easily onto the saddle behind you

with a nudge of his feet, the prince sends the horse into a gallop

you startle with a yelp, having never ridden a horse before, much less one at this pace

prince mingi presses himself a little closer to you and slots his chest against your back as he leans forward to guide your hands to hold the reins with his

“here,” he murmurs, “just follow me”

he shifts one hand to settle on your waist, guiding your body into a comfortable rhythm that dances in sync with the horse’s movements and his own

when he’s sure you’ve gotten the hang of it, the prince places his hand back on the reins, yet he stays close, keeping you safely encased within his arms to prevent you from falling off

you’re not sure how long you two ride for

but at some point the prince slows the horse to a canter

with the slower sway of the steed, the steady clack of hooves against the forest floor, and the warmth of the prince around you, you drift off to his whispered, “sleep, i’ve got you”

you wake up to find yourself on a scratchy pile of leaves

the events of last night piece themselves together when you spot prince mingi, still adorning his deep blue silk pajamas, leaning against a tree a few feet away

it would have been a sight to see if not for the fact that-

“what are we going to do now?” you sit up, and the prince’s robe, you now register, falls from around your body

the prince gives you a warm smile as you rub the sleep from your eyes with fisted hands

“we’ll head into halsburg. the town is small enough the news should not have traveled that far yet. we’ll replenish some supplies and go from there”

it’s unspoken

the fact that there is no solid plan from there

even if the two of you have managed to escape the royal guards, for how long can you two run?

plus, it will be impossibly difficult to find evidence while on the run, when the answers are within the castle walls themselves

but you push those thoughts aside as you two enter halsburg, the prince’s hood pulled up over his face

you do the bulk of the purchases, less likely to be recognised by the townspeople

it’s mainly food and water for yourself, the prince, and his horse, and a simple tunic to replace his royal pajamas - something you have been teasing him about since you woke up

later that night, hours away from the outskirts of halsburg, you two settle for a couple hours of rest

a small fire crackles away to the song of the cicadas, an occasional pop as the licks of flames cast shadows across your faces

you glance at the prince sitting across from you, who is idly fiddling with his pajama top

specifically, the royal crest of the song family embroidered onto its front pocket

your heart clenches painfully, knowing the death of a family member is hard enough to process without the additional weight of being framed for murder, much less by your own brother who is the real culprit

“prince mingi…” you start, voice low

he glances up at you, eyes softening as he curves his lips up into a small smile, “i’m okay.”

you hesitate for a split second before letting the clench in your gut pull you to your feet, and you shuffle to settle back down in front of the fire, except this time beside the prince

all the while his eyes never leave you, not even when you nudge his shoulder softly and say,

“you don’t have to be strong. not in front of me…”

and he knows

because despite the differences in your social statuses, you are the person he trusts the most

you, the girl who used to trip over the lengths of his robes that you carried, now a woman who holds herself righteously and bravely

you, who chose to risk your own life from the moment you woke him up in his chambers

you, who is still risking your life to flee with him

“only if you stop calling me prince,” he jokingly nudges you back, attempting to make the atmosphere lighter despite the wetness that is starting to paint his eyes. “with you, i am just mingi”

“okay, prince mingi,” you tease

yet, you still extend a hand out to him, palm upturned in a silent invitation for comfort should he wish to seek it, because you can tell that he isn’t quite ready to seek it verbally

mingi laces his larger fingers through yours, tucking your interlocked hands closer to his body as he draws his knees up so that he can rest his chin upon them

mingi thinks that he feels numb more than anything, but he finds he isn’t as surprised as one would expect him to be

perhaps he always knew of his middle brother’s thirst for the throne

he just never thought it would be enough to spill blood

for now though, he lets himself be distracted by your thumb tracing mindless patterns against his knuckles

he lets himself relish in the heat radiating from your side that seems to warm him from inside out, even as the embers of the fire slowly lose their glow and die out with the darkening night

the days start to repeat themselves

you two cover as much distance as you can while sparing what time you can afford for yourselves and mingi’s horse to rest

mingi has decided to travel to prince yunho's kingdom, an old and trusted ally who may be able to provide you two with protection while he pulls strings to fight back against prince eun

from his calculations, the journey will take at least another two weeks

and although mingi doesn’t tell you this, deep down he does not know whether you two have two weeks left

the threat of the royal guards catching up hangs over the two of you like a hangman’s noose

neither of you have brought up that night by the fire either

but something has definitely changed in the way you seek comfort and reassurance in each other

as if so long as you have each other, everything will be alright in the end

when you feel him tremble as he sleeps curled around you, restless from a plaguing nightmare, you hush sweet nothings and brush his locks away from his forehead until his breathing steadies out again

and when you’re seated on the saddle in front of him, you now having long grown accustomed to horse riding, he still finds himself resting a comforting hand on you somewhere - your hips, thigh or over your own hand

sometimes when he is laughing softly with you, your arms brushing against each other, you imagine a different story; one where you are worthy of loving him

sometimes when you are tucked into his chest, small exhales escaping your open lips as you sleep, mingi imagines a different story; one where he is able to love you freely

because despite the blood running through his veins that has ultimately led to his downfall, you still look at him as though he has placed the stars in the very sky that you two have spent countless nights under

and although he knows the reality is that he cannot, he tries to write his own story, even if just for tonight

you are lying in his arms, legs tangled together, when the question comes tumbling out of his lips

“will you stay with me, forever?”

he feels you still in his embrace, before you’re pulling back a little to look at him with a chuckle

“you should be asking a princess that, prince mingi, not somebody like me”

“you are a princess in my eyes”

you can’t help the endearing look that crosses over your face as you lightly tap his nose, “you know that is not how it works”

“then we can run away. for i am already as good as dead to my kingdom,” he tells you with boyish determination

“you cannot, mingi. your people need a good prince”

“but what prince would i be if i cannot even boldly love you? the person who is dearest to me?”

under his sincere gaze and the weight of his words, you allow him this moment of solace

because perhaps, you want it just as much as he does

“okay, i’ll be your princess,” you breathe out

“forever?”

“forever”

that night, it is just you and mingi - no titles that separate your world from his, no looming threat of death - just two people in love

even as an uneasy pit settles at the bottom of mingi’s stomach, a growing feeling that gnaws away at him into the early hours of the next morning

he is startled awake, your expression frightened, and he immediately understands when he hears the thunderous chorus of hooves hitting the ground towards you two

mingi had known there was not much time left, but he did not think that the inevitable confrontation would happen this soon, only mere hours after the soft kiss he had pressed against your forehead

the desperate attempt to escape once more is futile, the royal guards closing the distance within minutes

left with no choice but to stop, you and mingi demount and the guards move to flank you both in a wide semicircle

when the head of the guards, prince eun, saunters forward, mingi matches with a stride of his own so that he can step in front of you

“you killed the crown prince, eun,” mingi spits at his brother

“running and denying your actions up until your very last moments, i see,” prince eun laughs condescendingly. “and you even took a little dog with you, too”

mingi presses you closer to his back, hiding you from the leering gaze of his brother

prince eun smiles smugly at mingi’s reaction, before he takes out a scroll and unravels it

“for high treason of the assassination of the crown prince, the king hereby decrees the immediate revocation of nobility of his third son, song mingi, and for the execution of song mingi and his maid upon sighting.”

you press your nose into mingi’s back, taking one last inhale of his familiar scent

the bowmen all take aim as prince eun sneers, “any last words, brother?”

mingi turns around, and all you can see in that moment are his warm eyes and dimpled cheeks

“i love you, my princess,” he proclaims

“forever,” you reply

he brings his lips down to connect them with yours, drowning out the distinct vibration of loosening strings and the hiss of flying arrows with the roaring symphony in your hearts

you’re unsure what pain swallows you whole first - the pain as an arrowhead sinks into your chest, or the pain as you realise that this is the end of your short-lived love with mingi

you struggle to keep the smile on your face as you lock eyes with mingi, trying to memorise the loving gaze that adorns his own face

you see his mouth moving, but the pain exploding throughout your body is too loud for you to make out his words

with your last breath, you gasp out your final confession, “i love you too, mingi. we’ll meet again in the next life”

as the world starts to fade away, cold creeping into your limbs, you hope that in another story, in another lifetime, you and mingi will be able to find each other again

wooyoung

pov: you're the princess of a rival kingdom

“absolutely not, advisor lee,” your mother raises her nose in the air

“your highness, i understand but-”

“oh please, do not flatter yourself, queen cho,” queen jung spits out, “you are not the only one who abhors the idea”

you glare at the prince sitting across from you, your own gazes reflecting the tension in the room

advisor lee has suggested that your family and the jung family host a joint royal ball as a grand display of amity between the two neighbouring kingdoms, particularly between the princess - yourself - and their prince - prince wooyoung

there have been spreading rumours in town of the strained relationship between the two royal families

which aren’t entirely untrue

as a child, the two kingdoms have been loyal and steadfast in their alliance and friendship

in fact, it is not uncommon to find you joining prince wooyoung in his kitchen, begging the chefs to let you two lick the spoons

or to find prince wooyoung squatting next to you in your garden as you both look at the ladybugs

but as power imbalances emerge and political agendas start to diverge, a wedge is driven between your families

the relation is now dangerously close to severing completely, but not without the increasing attention of the towns surrounding the two kingdoms

and one of the last things both royal families need is unease and disunity amongst the commoners

which brings advisor lee to look on with exasperation as he tries to do his job - advise

except neither your mother nor queen jung look ready to accept his advice

your father nods slightly at the two of you, “you are dismissed, as are you, prince wooyoung”

you curtsy as the prince takes a slight bow, before you obnoxiously flick your hair over your shoulder and turn away on your heels

you escape to the garden, knowing that the meeting will take at least another hour before you are required to bid the jung family farewell

except, surprise surprise

who do you run into

you narrow your eyes at prince wooyoung as he steps towards you, who has one eyebrow quirked, “a royal ball, he says?”

“absolutely not,” you fold your arms across your chest

“oh please, do not flatter yourself, princess,” he sneers, not dissimilar to the nasally tone his mother had voiced her dissatisfaction earlier with

neither of you back down, daring the other to say something else

before you two break out into giggles, eyes glittering scandalously

“did you see your mother deliberately pass the salt instead of sugar for the tea?”

“and then the face my mother made when she took a sip of it-”

he pulls you to crouch behind an azalea bush as you both chortle like children, out of sight, before he brings you in for a dizzying kiss

you sigh, resting a hand on his chest

“do you also abhor the idea of dancing with me, prince wooyoung?” a teasing lilt in your voice

“absolutely,” he nods grimly, “why go to all that effort when there is a much grander and longer-lasting solution?”

“and what is that, my prince?”

he sneaks another chaste kiss from your lips, “for me to take your hand in marriage, my princess”

at his words, your smile dampens

“you know that i would say yes in a heartbeat. it is not i who needs convincing, but our parents”

because despite the growing hostility between your two families, the relationship you share with wooyoung has, ironically, blossomed into one of well-concealed adoration, intimacy and love

you two have come to learn that that one slightly lighter stone on the western side of your kingdom’s outer walls comes loose, and is the perfect size for slipping a piece of paper behind it

you two have also come to learn that every fourth week, if you ask your personal tutor enough questions about the plants laid out on the store’s table in front of you during your scheduled lesson in town, you’ll be able to drag it out long enough for you both to just catch a glimpse of each other as he and his escorts cut through the town on their way back to his kingdom

and of course, you two have come to learn the most isolated spots in your own respective kingdoms, like the second stairwell leading down to the cellar in wooyoung’s palace

and amongst the azalea bushes in the back garden in yours

which is exactly how you knew that he would appear, how you knew that he would give you those sweet kisses you have been craving so desperately

as wooyoung cups your jaw to kiss you once more, one that leaves you wanting to chase his lips forever, he bets you that it’ll only take two weeks of close-quarter meetings between your royal families before one of your mothers blow up and the ball idea falls through completely

in response, you bet him that they won’t even last two weeks - one at the most

except you’re both wrong

the meeting turns into two, followed by several more as the planning goes ahead

sometimes, the meetings are held in the jung palace

other times, their family journeys to your kingdom instead

one thing that stays constant is the malevolence in the air

the parents are sarcastic snipes and saccharine smiles

and on the surface, you and wooyoung are further extensions of your own parents’ simmering loathing for the other

but under the intricately-carved wooden table, you two are playing footsies, jeweled heels and leather shoes engaged in a playful fight

you see how many times you can slide your heels up along his shin, gradually inching closer towards his inner thigh with each coquettish touch

he has you pass him anything and everything under the guise of forgoing the help of the numerous royal butlers and maids around the room to deliberately irritate you

really, it is to accidentally brush his fingers over your hands; to see the pretty shade of rose that settles over your cheeks and ears as you both try not to break out into giggles

and perhaps, during the meals that may take place during the meetings, there have been a couple of peas flicked at each other here and there when no one is paying attention

(unbeknownst to you two, the maids and butlers alike must hide their own endearing smiles)

the weeks turn into months and you practically have a permanent glow radiating from you, now that you have been seeing the prince so frequently

(which also does not go unnoticed)

as you select a necklace from the assortment of choices to emphasise the plunging neckline of your off-shoulder gown, you wonder how the day of the royal ball has arrived so quickly

your personal maid, jihye, carefully fixes the clasp of the necklace around you before stepping back to let you look in the mirror

you smooth a hand over the soft lavender charmeuse of your dress, nervously looking at jihye

“how do i look?”

“stunning, my princess,” she assures you, before adding, “prince wooyoung will definitely love it”

“prin- he- what? i- sorry?” you say unintelligibly, before you try to salvage the situation by tucking a lock of hair behind your ear as you laugh her off

but jihye just looks at you knowingly

meanwhile, prince wooyoung is already at the grand hall, the jung family having arrived two days prior for the final preparations of the ball

he and his friends, princes from kingdoms located further up north and towards the east, are lingering around one of the tables decorated with flower arrangements and elaborate candle holders, ignoring the longing glances of other attendees, women and men alike, thrown at their striking posse

wooyoung is trying to keep his gaze subtle, scanning the vast number of people at the ball without craning or turning his head, searching for one particular face

yours

prince yeosang nudges the others, jerking his chin to motion towards the distracted wooyoung

when wooyoung finally realises he isn’t as subtle as he thinks, all his friends are already looking at him with varying degrees of smirks

“just know that if there were not so many people here,” wooyoung begins with a pleasant smile, “i would flip you all off right now”

before he can try stepping on his friends’ toes in the form of petty revenge, prince seonghwa points towards the entrance as his smile grows impossibly wider

“look”

wooyoung turns around

and like any typical man who is head over heels in love, the world around him slows down

the gushing whispers spreading throughout the ballroom fade into the background

because finally, there you are, gracefully stepping past the threshold of the arched doorway in all your alluring beauty, accentuated by the way your curled locks and flowing gown frame your body

for the briefest moment, you lock eyes with him, and wooyoung feels his brain shutting down on him

“you’re going to catch a fly in your mouth, woo”

“pick up your jaw. it’s on the ground”

prince yunho pretends to dab wooyoung’s mouth with the ruffled sleeves of his cream shirt, “you’re drooling, darling”

at that, wooyoung smacks his lips dazedly before coming to a moment of realisation, blinking hard twice to bring himself back to reality

“god, you’re hopeless. just go up and talk to her,” prince hongjoong snickers. “the whole point of this ball is to show off how ‘close’ your families are anyway”

wooyoung grumbles that he knows, he’s just looking for the right timing

which, unfortunately, does not seem to come

you spend what feels like the next two hours being whisked around, feigning polite interest as you are forced to engage in dull and bland conversations with numerous men of differing royal statuses, all of whom are no doubt trying to make an impression on you in hopes of becoming a potential suitor in the future

not that you have eyes for anyone apart from the one who already has your heart

the very same person who is currently fed up with watching you converse and let your hands be kissed by men who are not him

even if he knows you are pretending, he thinks that you sure are damn good at giggling at all the right times

you are trying not to let your smile turn into a grimace as the older-aged man, lord ryu you think, boasts of his wealth to you, when wooyoung enters your peripheral vision

“princess, lord ryu,” he greets you both, before looking down at the latter, “pardon me as i take the princess for a dance”

lord ryu, visibly irked but unable to say anything to the prince of significantly higher status, lets go of your hand to step back into a bow, “of course, prince wooyoung”

you giggle, this time genuinely, as wooyoung takes your hand to gently lead you towards the center of the ballroom, where several others are starting to waltz to the soft music that is now playing

you rest a hand just below his shoulder, feeling the sturdiness of his muscles flexing beneath his shirt, as he places his other hand to settle on the dip of your waist

a little possessively, you might add

“you look beautiful today,” he murmurs lowly, away from any prying ears

“only today?” you quirk an eyebrow teasingly

his voice drops down an octave, “well it’s not every day that i can tell you, princess”

wooyoung’s eyes flicker down hungrily to look at your lips

you run your tongue slowly over your bottom lip, knowing it will drive him absolutely crazy that he cannot just take you right there and then in front of everybody

and you can see the moment his resolve snaps

“meet me for some fresh air in ten,” bringing his lips as close to the shell of your ear as he dares

and then he’s gone

you become progressively antsy as you wait out a generous amount of time after he leaves for you to also slip away from the ballroom

wooyoung pins you against a pillar as soon as you emerge in the garden, aching to kiss you and fight for dominance until you’re both breathless and light-headed

“you don’t know how desperately i wanted to kiss you in front of everyone - let the whole world know that you’re mine,” he nips at your bottom lip

you rest your hands on his chest, fingers curled around the pleated front of his satin shirt to hold yourself steady as he turns your lips into an artwork of swollen cherry reds

he tilts your head back a little more, your mouths moving in tandem, soft moans drawn out of you, when-

“what in god’s name is going on?”

you and wooyoung startle apart at the shriek

the blush dusting your faces pale almost immediately at the sight of not just your mother, but also queen jung and a few of the royal staff

it’s kind of amusing that of all things for the two queens to have the same mindset about, it is the discovery of you and wooyoung’s secret relationship that unites them, both sharing twin expressions of horror and revulsion

you’re ripped from each other’s arms as you are forced back into the confines of your bed chamber, royal ball long forgotten

your only solace is learned later that night, when jihye brings a trolley of food you have no appetite for, that the jung family have not yet returned to their kingdom

they are still in your palace somewhere

yet that does little to soothe your tears, overwhelmed by the drastic turn of events, and you do not know when you fall asleep that night

all you know is that it is to a bed too cold and a longing in your heart too gaping to ignore

“princess,” you look up to see jihye standing at your door the next morning, almost apologetic, “the king and queen request for your presence in the throne room”

as you approach the room after tidying your appearance, your breath hitches when you spot him just by the double doors

you barrel forwards into his waiting arms, uncaring of the staff following behind you

not that they have the heart to stop you either way

“i thought you would have been forced to leave,” you blurt, unable to believe that wooyoung is right in front of you

“i’m still here,” he chuckles. “i have been summoned by your parents”

your heart drops down to your stomach at his words as you realise what this meeting is about

“and i am glad they did, princess,” wooyoung is quick to interject before your apology makes it past the tip of your tongue. “i am going to ask for your hand in marriage. officially”

“what if they banish us from ever seeing each other again?” worry overwhelms you as your breathing quickens

wooyoung gently laces his fingers through yours, bringing up his other hand to cup your face and run his thumb comfortingly over the curve of your cheekbone to keep you grounded

“no matter what happens today, no matter what the outcome is,” he looks at you with the fierce determination of a man ready to give up anything and everything for your sake, “i will never ever stop fighting for you”

he presses his soft lips against yours

“for us,” he vows

your breathing evens out, and while your heartbeat still pounds inside your ribcage, you know that it marches in rhythm with the man in front of you

this time, not afraid to appear in front of the rulers of your kingdoms - your parents - you and wooyoung nod in reassurance at each other once more, hand in hand, before you both push the doors to the throne room open

together.

jongho

pov: you're under his protection as your royal guard

over the din of volunteered names in the meeting room, jongho steps forward

“your majesty, i will accompany the princess,” he declares

“choi jongho?” your father scans him up and down with regard before nodding in approval, “it is decided then”

“him? surely i need another person with me as well?” you protest

your father quirks an eyebrow at you, a subtle reminder that whilst he is your father, he is also the king

“no, you will need to travel in disguise and stay as discreet as possible. only jongho will accompany you as your royal guard”

your father looks away and starts to address the next item on the meeting agenda; it is quite clear there is no room for argument

meanwhile, jongho sidles up to you

“you trying to catch bugs or something? close your mouth, princess,” he teases under his breath

you nudge him with an elbow, “you’re the only bug i see around here”

he rolls his eyes but you both snicker in unison when one of your older sisters turns around to shush you with a dirty look

regardless, you stay silent for the rest of the meeting

you’re not sure why jongho stepped forward to take on this task

because for someone who is your main royal guard and is supposed to be loyal and obedient, he sure makes it clear that his job is about as gratifying as babysitting

(“you can’t talk to me like that. i’m the princess”)

(“no, you’re not. you’re an idiot”)

in fact, when you had been notified a few days prior that you would be traveling with one other royal guard - who had yet to be decided at the time - jongho had spent every single day gloating that he would finally get a break from babysitting you

and yet here he is

with the opportunity to hand you off to somebody else

but instead, baring his teeth at the other guards who offer themselves up for this scouting mission

he would never admit to it either, but jongho personally spoke to the king years ago about being rostered on as your main bodyguard since he’s “known the princess for the longest and so i can protect her the best”

you don’t want to travel to the border

you’re in charge of maintaining security and defense along your borders and with neighbouring kingdoms, usually dealing with complications remotely through the ministers and advisors who work for you

this time though, there has been recent unrest near the southern borders of your kingdom near denport, a city notorious for bandits and fugitives

the situation has worsened with increased risk of bloodshed, thus has the need for you to survey the borders in person

and as the youngest sibling of five, the king has made it very clear that this is your opportunity to prove your capabilities

jongho makes sure to remind you of this fact when you grumble your way through packing a satchel of essential items to take with you

(“your fluffy slippers are not essential, princess”)

(you listen and throw them back onto the floor of your bedchambers, but stuff in a few paperweights when he isn’t looking out of petty revenge because you know he’ll end up carrying your bag for you later when you ask him to)

it’s a relatively long journey to denport, so as soon as you are ready, jongho having long finished packing his own bag, you leave your kingdom with him at your side

by the time the sun is starting to set later that day, you’re passing through a small town

he suggests calling it a night and recuperating at one of the inns

you wait while he inquires about available rooms and then follow him through a small alleyway to the inn that he has chosen for the night

you take all but one look at the rotting wood and creaking sign at the entrance before you are crossing your arms like a petulant child

“there’s no way i’m staying the night in this sorry excuse of an inn”

he merely blinks

“you’re technically not the princess right now so you better listen to me or god help me, i’ll-”

“you’ll what,” you challenge, nose-to-nose

or nose-to-throat, you suppose

but before you can dwell any further on your height difference, jongho picks you up, slings you over his shoulder like you are nothing more than a sack of potatoes, and walks into the inn without a care in the world that you are screaming bloody murder

you resign to your fate and flop uselessly against his back as he carries you up the stairs

instead, when he throws you onto the bed upon entering the room, you look up at him sultrily and smirk, “ooh, now i’m turned on”

jongho shakes his head with exasperation but you don’t miss the redness that is creeping up the back of his neck as he turns around to close the door shut

“wait,” you sit up on the bed, “we’re sharing a room?”

“it’s safer. i’ll sleep on the sofa”

you scrunch your nose at the arrangement, but you do admittedly feel a little more at ease in the unfamiliar room of the inn

you start to take a shoe off before a thought flits through your mind and you point the shoe in your hand at him like a weapon, “you better not snore”

jongho rolls his eyes as he steps forward to take the shoe out of your hand, and then he is bending down to help slip off the shoe from your other foot

a thank you lies on the tip of your tongue

“you’re the only snorer in this room, princess”

nevermind.

it’s gone.

you’re settled in bed, waiting for jongho to finish washing up and turn off the lights, when you spot it

holy shit

your immediate reaction is to seek his protection

“jongho!”

the door to the bathroom swings open almost immediately as he rushes out, eyes alarmed, alert, and zeroing onto you

water drips off the ends of his hair and you can still spot suds on his exposed torso

“what’s wrong? are you okay? are you hurt?” his voice is laced with restrained panic

you point to the corner of the room and then he sees it too

his body stiffens completely

because, mere metres from the two of you, presence sinister and dangerous…

is a fucking spider

all is quiet and still for a while, your eyes flickering back and forth between your royal guard and the spider in a tense standoff

then, just as you are about to speak up, jongho grabs his bag and swiftly turns on his heels to head towards the room’s door

“where are you going?!” you shriek

he looks at you forlornly from over his shoulder, “to prepare for my execution”

“what the fuck are you on about, jongho?”

“for abandoning my duties and failing to protect you. farewell, princess. you are on your own from here-”

his sentence is cut short as the spider scuttles towards him

and that is how you two, disguised, but still a royal princess and royal guard no less, are given an eviction warning because he streaked through the corridors of the inn half naked and screaming at the top of his lungs

needless to say, the innkeeper ends up having to remove the spider for the two of you

“you’re so embarrassing,” you whisper to him once you two are finally settled in bed and on the sofa

“no, i’m jongho,” he cackles

you don’t humour him with a response, but you know he snickers himself to sleep that night

you can’t help but let the corner of your lips tug up as well

a few days later after leaving the town, you two are resting side by side against a tree trunk when you decide to grace jongho with the opportunity to redeem himself

he’s currently halving a sandwich so you two can share

“if i were trapped in a forest full of spiders and you were the only person who could save me,” you ask gravely, “what would you do?”

without missing a beat, he replies, “prepare to grieve your death and make sure your pet cat is well fed in your honour”

he passes you the bigger sandwich as you turn to look at him with the most scandalised expression

“can you at least pretend to think for a bit?” you grumble

there’s a hint of a smile on jongho’s face when he apologises, “okay, sorry. ask me again”

you hit him with a different scenario this time

“if you had to fight a giant spider who had taken me hostage, what would you do?”

he hums thoughtfully for a few seconds, unscrewing a canteen of water for you and placing it by your side

“i would say, she is all yours, your spidery majesty, and then i would bow and walk away”

“fuck you,” you shove him good-naturedly with your shoulder

he swipes the canteen before you can knock it over and presses it into your smaller hand instead, giving it a quick pat as he dismisses your insult, “sure, if you think you can handle my dick”

“like they say,” you waggle your eyebrows at him as your voice drops down lower, “practice makes perfect”

jongho’s stoic facade finally cracks when you lean in closer and he hurries to stand up and put some distance between you and him

he shifts his legs subtly, clearing his throat to say, “we should go, denport is close”

when you’ve finished off the last of your sandwich, you dust off your fingers and grab jongho’s offered hand to stand up too

“let’s go”

one thing you have both noticed is that the closer you get to the border between your kingdom and denport, the quieter and thicker the atmosphere seems to get

the small towns you pass through have less people roaming around; in fact, most people seem to flee back into the refuge of their own houses, locking their doors and closing their windows when they catch sight of your pair

and then it happens

your plan goes awry

you and jongho are harshly awoken by a commotion outside the small room you have rented for the night

there’s a sickening smell accompanied by wails of grief in the air

when you rush outside, all you can see is a huge crowd of people gathered and your ears strain to pick up on the broken hushes of information being thrown around

“his son is lucky to have been spared”

“lucky to have seen his father slaughtered by bandits?”

“i heard it wasn’t money that they were after, though”

“those damned denport devils are up to something”

that’s all you pick up on before jongho snatches your arm and leads you back into the inn, telling you that it’s too dangerous to be out there; too dangerous for you two to continue traveling

which leads to the very first argument you ever have with him

you two butt heads all the time with your own fiery fronts and hardheadedness but more often than not, he yields to you

you’re facing him in the dim room - it is shadier than that first inn you two made a stop at weeks ago, but you’re both sharing one room just like you two have done at every single inn since

“we need to go check it out!” you shout at him

jongho takes a shaky breath as he tries to keep his voice even, “no, we should go back to our kingdom, report on the situation and call for backup!”

you throw your hands up into the air, “we’re already here - we’re basically at denport! what if something blows up soon? it might be too late by the time we go back”

jongho steps in closer as his eyes narrow

you don’t cower because you know he would never hurt you, but you do step backwards because you don’t think you can keep a clear head when he is standing so close to you, proximity dizzying like the buzz of alcohol

“of all times for you to play hero and do something that you weren’t asked to, why now? why put yourself in danger?”

your back hits the wall as jongho corners you

your chest heaves, as does his, both of you overwhelmed with emotions

he holds your gaze but his eyes are rounded with agony and distress

you don’t understand why he is so against your decision

you don’t know what to say, until your eyes flicker down involuntarily at the movement of his lips parting to exhale-

“damn, jongho, your lips are real chapped. you should use some of my lip balm”

he blinks hard at the absurdity of what you chose to say

he looks at your lips

he makes a decision

“then give me some of yours,” he says, a little breathless

and then he’s pressing his chapped lips against your smooth ones, the taste of coconut filling your mouth as your lip balm smears

suddenly, he pulls back with the audacity to look shocked as if you are the one who kissed him

and then he leaves the room without another word

he doesn’t return that night and you don’t manage to sleep either

you wonder when you started becoming used to falling asleep with him in the same room

jongho clears his throat awkwardly when you open the door in the morning and find him leaning against the wall just by the doorframe

you’re not sure whether he came back not too long ago from god knows where, or whether he was actually standing guard outside all night

you think you know which one it is, even if he doesn’t confirm it

“we’re checking out,” he mumbles, shuffling briskly into the room to grab his few belongings he had left and exiting the room again with you trailing behind

neither of you say much more to each other

you think that he’s going to lead you back the way you two came, lead you back and undo the weeks’ worth of journeying and go back to the castle

but then he’s sighing, deep and burdened, and he gently takes your hand to continue on towards denport

he’s never held your hand before

not like this, at least, tenderly tugging you along with every step so that you are no more than a few inches away from his side

you want to bicker with him and chortle together like usual but you keep quiet, giving him the space that he appears to need even if he is physically ensuring you are tucked right into his side

you two walk until the sun has dipped below the horizon

from what you know, you are right along the southern border and denport will only be another half day’s walk away

jongho makes a small bonfire before he joins you to lean against a fallen log

he shimmies off his coat and drapes it over your legs and then the forest also settles into silence along with you both

it’s now or never

“why are you so against us going to the border?” you ask him

he runs his fingers through his hair

an unruly tuft of hair stays upright and you fold your arms to stop yourself from reaching out and smoothening it for him

he looks at you as he says, “i’m fine with me going to the border, it’s you i’m not fine with. you do remember that i’m your royal guard, right”

“is that all there is to your reason,” you push, “that you’re my guard?”

you both know you’re referring to more than just the argument itself

jongho’s gaze breaks away, looking ahead at the flames of the fire instead

he is silent

for once, jongho is unarmed; no immediate snark or teasing remark to toss back at you

you hear him swallow and take a breath

“i…i don’t know,” he starts. “all i know is that with each passing day, the more i want to keep you safe”

jongho looks at you again, eyebrows drawn down ever so slightly

“why do you make me feel so worried?”

at his words, your heart clenches in an unfamiliar way and you attempt to lighten the mood, “maybe you like me”

“maybe i do”

oh.

with the reflection of the fire dancing in his eyes, it almost looks as though he is about to cry

“please, don’t go to the border, princess,” he begs softly

his plea remains unwavering and you find your heart doing the exact opposite

after a few seconds of silence, you say

“okay, jongho. i won’t”

the tension from his shoulders seeps out and he gently tugs you towards him so he can tuck you into his side once again

“you promise that we turn around and go back tomorrow morning?”

you nod against the warmth of the crook of his neck, then murmur, “do you think father will be disappointed in me? for returning?”

he rubs a hand up and down your arm soothingly

“of course not, princess. you’ve already done so much more than you needed to. he’ll be proud of you”

and then he adds on, “just like i’m proud of you”

this is the first time anyone has ever really validated your efforts; being the youngest of a large family means you are often overshadowed

caught off guard, all you can do is whisper out, “thank you, jongho”

he hums and you feel his smile against the crown of your head

you’ve never been drunk before, but you think that this is the closest you have ever gotten

you are intoxicated by him

“if you’re thankful,” the rumble of jongho’s voice against your cheek is pleasant, “can i ask for something?”

“whatever you want”

he eases you from the comfort of his neck and tilts your chin up slightly with a finger, cheeky grin plastered across his face

“can i have some more of your lip balm?”

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yumeboshi · 9 months ago

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𝜗𝜚。．． ❛ #HER NEW BOYFRIEND’S NEXT!

𐙚 synopsis。．short hcs/scenarios of jealous yandere aventurine & sunday ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

．。𝜗𝜚 cw。suggestive themes . general yandere themes, brainwashing, gaslighting in Sunday’s part, mentions of violence, mentions of scide, imprisonment, except for aventurine relationships are not established, WARNING: extremely obsessed and smitten with you, read at risk!

．。𝜗𝜚 a/n。honestly why do i think sunday will be literally the most dangerous yandere you could ask for。man has all the resources to brainwash you and lock you up pls

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY．。

。… a classic yandere obsessed over control. 。literally, he will be such a control freak. he has eyes all over penacony. he would have already kept track of what kind of soulglad you drink, when you get home, what your sleep habit is, all under the span of a week, and that’s before meeting you. obviously, as your future spouse, he is just obtaining information he needs for the future! 。will treat you surprisingly equally to his other guests when you meet, he doesn’t want gossip to get around, and he wants to make this “process” as natural as possible. 。after you are successfully within his area of control, he will start to monitor you even more meticulously- who you meet, what you do in your dreams.. he is a bit disappointed you don’t visit him on your own accord, but that will all be arranged soon! 。will casually go up to your room to ask you about “room service satisfaction” when he’s actually just busy breathing in your lovely scent and assessing your room for any “threat.” 。he doesn’t like that you’re affecting his ability to work. he’s impatient, of course, but he knows that he will have to wait for the perfect opportunity to whisk you away like a knight in shining armor. And all he needs is a little pawn to play the act of a villain- oh, your little male acquaintance will do! 。he’s like that- using people around you as puppets to his grand stage. Sunday is well-informed about morals, of course. But he won’t feel much guilt, not when he knows this is all for the ‘greater good.’ “They” will approve of it. 。and so, he starts to crack his charming facade- he will start asking you for private meetings, and he will put you in a vip room so you are isolated. He does this under the mask of ‘danger,’ saying that you have faced too many threats and he needs to ensure his guest’s safety. 。If you call your friends for help? The next day, they are mysteriously gone from penacony. You call them but your phone is out of service. 。but if you are still not charmed over his chivalry.. he’ll have to settle for easier methods.

❝ WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?”

Your demand was choked with such pleasant sobs that SUNDAY couldn’t help but slip out a small victorious smirk that quickly masks itself to a concerned facade when you fix your angry watery eyes at him.

“I know it was you,” you continue, pacing around his office while he remains nonchalantly seated, trailing his eyes to your every step. “You made all my friends vanish from penacony, you had my parents escorted away to aeons know where, you stowed me here like I’m some kind of precious little jewelry for your eyes only. What do you want from me?” The evident snarl in your words merely makes Sunday tip his head a little, staring at you with the same serene look that frustrated you.

“Oh, sweetheart, you got it all wrong.” He shakes his head in disappointment and rose up from his seat, taking silent strides to you at an alarming speed that made you stumble backwards to the door. “‘They’ have done nothing for you during your stay in the Reverie. You are always disappointed with them, but you choose not to speak up. It is such a painful sight, you are just like a bird who lost its voice.” His voice is surprisingly gentle, dangerously neutral, which scares you, and makes you doubt yourself.

Maybe you were just being stupid, Sunday was acting like it wasn’t a big deal. And your friends indeed did not do much for you here, unlike Sunday, who provided you with all this luxury without accepting anything in return. You feel safe here, almost. You blink a little- the heat that had pounded through your ears was gone, and now you feel like a harmless puppy that just barked his best at a wolf.

“It‘s natural to be mad, dear.” His hand delicately entangles itself into your locks, and you stare at him, unable to say anything as he soothingly whispers. “It is hard to understand actions for the greater good. relax, sweetheart. Everything will be better now,” he purrs, staring right into your eyes. They are endless depths of azure. They are very, very mesmerizing, you think.

“Everything will be better now,” you realize, and you sigh into his arms that seemed to suddenly be present around you. But the worry disperses, you are fine with being close with him. His embrace is welcoming and soft. You don’t want to leave it ever again.

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE．。

。this man takes the cake for being the most jealous man in honkai 。he’s a charmer. he wins you over easily, because who could resist his charisma and his wealth, honestly. He flirts his way easily with you— unlike Sunday, he likes an impromptu plan, and rather enjoys surprises- any attempt of you trying to break up with him will not irritate him at all, contrary to the former. 。“Your attempts fascinate me. Too bad you lost all your bargaining chips. You gonna play another round with me, love? I’m more than willing to, you know.” 。he will be pleased, intrigued at how he can break you down again. he likes a little chase and gamble, he doesn’t want his prey served on his plate, he likes the thrill of hunt. 。he’d even be impressed if you escape him. But not for long, because he will bring you back to where you belong. 。this man will barely be angry over you. He won’t force any affection onto you, he satisfies himself by buying you expensive clothes instead, as if you are his little doll. He is content with you being a quiet and submissive trophy. 。what this man does not tolerate, however, is you being with anyone else. He cannot bear the thought that someone is around you more than he is, and that you rely on someone more than you rely on him. Aventurine has pride over his abilities, anyone taking you is like taking his most precious trump card. 。despite the jealousy he feels, he will still regard this as a particularly entertaining game. But he knows he will win this gamble, too.

❝ AH, IT’S SUCH A THRILLING GAME, ISN’T IT, SWEETHEART?”

You watch AVENTURINE toss the coin into the air and roll it around his fingers, his mesmerizing eyes examine the bitter look of defeat on your features.

“This isn’t funny,” you sobbed, despair dawning on you upon realizing that you truly lost everything to him. You had no more moves left in this game he put you in. He was merciful enough to spare your blood relatives, but your friends were gone- including the nice and sweet, innocent guy you shared friendly banter with for barely an hour.

“A gamble is fair and share, love.” He puts his hand on your waist, giving you a short kiss that tasted of wine. You felt nothing but defeat as he tossed the coin on the table where it flopped. “You just picked the wrong set of cards to play with.”

He is close to you all of a sudden, his hot breath tickling your skin, smelling of victory and wealth. His eyes stare right into you as he chuckles, the sadistic glint in his eyes glitter a little more when you feel a tear escape your eye. He leans to your ear, lightly biting your earlobe as he adds,

“Nobody wins with a deck with only clovers, my love. A shame that your cards were so… discardable.”

He laughs at that, watching your stunned face. He loves the look of surprise on you. It is endearing, it shows so well that you do not know how to play his game at all.

#𐙚．。articles #honkai star rail x reader #yandere #aventurine hsr #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail #aventurine x you #sunday hsr #sunday honkai star rail #sunday x reader #sunday x you #honkai star rail yandere #yandere x reader #yandere aventurine #yandere sunday #div by cafekitsune

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sonotpattismith · 1 month ago

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ruin it all over

pairing: tattoo artist!sukuna x ballerina!reader word count: 12.9k content: angst, insecurity, feelings of worthlessness, reader low-key crashing out, hurt w/comfort, loss of virginity, there's a happy ending here somewhere pls bear w/ me, smut, 18+ a/n: continuation of where I first saw you

Ryomen was a guarded guy. Sure— he was getting a little better at the small talk he once thought was so pointless, but it was only because you always seemed genuinely enthralled to hear about what kind of cereal he ate that morning or what song he was listening to on the car ride to work (even though you had no clue who the artists were that he would name, but you were keeping a running playlist). He tried, but it certainly didn’t come naturally to him.

No, because it was much more entertaining for him to listen to your sickeningly sweet voice ramble on and on about the exam you almost missed because you were trying to give a stray campus cat your leftover egg salad sandwich, or how you started keeping tins of actual cat food in your bag just in case even though the critters never seemed to appear when you were actually prepared for them.

The silent man would go about whatever he was doing— closing up the shop with you perched on the counter awaiting him, cleaning his car as you sat in the passenger seat pretending not to stare at the way the sweat clung to his bulging arms as he wiped down the dashboard, shaving his face as your voice fluttered through his phone on the sink— he was taking in every word with as little as an occasional grunt that proved he was still listening.

His favorite part though, was nearing the end of your drawn out stories, when your words would start to trail, and your face would begin to flush because you realized— god, you really have been talking for a long time. Whenever he’d notice those little queues, he’d always look up just in time to watch as you buried your burning face into your hands, muttering out an apology about talking his ear off, and he would smile, because something about that gentle timidness contrasted so deliciously with his brash and jagged edges. It lit a fire in his chest each time, one that had him reminding himself to reel it back in before he scared you one of these days.

So, he’d bite down the urge to pounce and opt to flick at your forehead, tutting softly as he urged you to not leave me in fuckin’ suspense as soon as you’d peek up at him through your fingers.

His crass mouth was another aspect of him that didn’t seem to phase you as much as he thought it would. In your eyes, he could curse like a sailor and scowl all he wanted, because none of it ever took away from the way his typically rough hands handled you with the delicacy of fine china, and how he always seemed to remember the little bits of you you’d shared when you were sure he hadn’t been listening. It also didn’t hurt to have someone without any hair on his tongue around when the cafe got your order wrong, and you were too scared to say anything.

So, maybe you weren’t sure exactly how to label whatever it was that had been going on between you two for the past couple weeks, but you knew you were actually excited for something other than your frequent dance practices for the first time in months. Shrugging on a sweater and a pair of sweatpants over your leotard and tights, you scooped up your bag before tossing a rushed goodbye out to your teammates and bursting through the doors.

Your feet still ached from the extensive time spent awkwardly constricted in your pointe shoes, but Sukuna had texted you just before practice asking (demanding) to meet him at the shop afterward since his last appointment was ending early. He’d offered to come pick you up, but the last thing you wanted to do was become a burden on him after he’d been working all day. So, you trudged through the dull pain and walked as fast as your throbbing feet would take you through the campus.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you busied yourself with checking the train schedule as the breeze messied your once neat bun. Glancing up after you narrowly avoided getting knocked into one too many times, you had to do a double take when you saw the familiar mop of pink hair in the distance. Biting down your tickled smile, you shook your head at his stubbornness. You picked up your pace a bit, but slowed down just as you were a few feet away from him. It had become a self-appointed challenge, your constant attempts to scare him as it seemed nothing swayed this man.

With an unnecessary burst of adrenaline, you made a running start before pouncing on his hoodie-covered arm with an exaggerated shout, an eccastic grin lighting up your face at the sound of his abrupt yelp.

“Hah! So much for— oh my god!” It was now your turn to yelp, because the startled face looking down at you was free of all the intricate tattoos that you’d grown so fond of, and the bicep in your grasp was most definitely a few inches smaller in circumference than you remember. Perhaps you should have known, because the hoodie you were clinging onto was a baby pink color, and you were positive you’d never seen that man in anything other than black.“I-I’m so sorry, I thought—” Your mortified apology died on your throat, because now that the jolt of fear had somewhat subsided, you noted that this was a damn near spitting image of Ryomen. “Oh my god!”

Stumbling back with a start, your foot twisted awkwardly on the rocky pavement below you, nearly sending your ass tumbling to the ground when the black haired man in front of him, whose eyes had since been shooting daggers into your skull, jolted forward to steady you. Stammered apologies continued spilling from your lips as you crouched against the sudden pain in your foot that had already seen better days before your tumble.

“I’m so sorry, it’s just that you look exactly like—”

“Ohhh,” The doppelganger cut you off, an amused smile of recognition finally lighting up his once startled expression. It wasn’t long after though that his face quickly scrunched up in disbelief once again as he took in the way you starkly contrasted his gruffer counterpart. “Wait, you’re the one seeing my brother?”

You blinked once, then twice, mouth hung open as the puzzle pieces began clicking together. Ryomen had mentioned that he and Choso have another brother, but he left out the arguably major details that for one, you two attended the same university, and two, that they were—

“Twins?”

Sukuna had already wrapped up his last appointment by the time you waltzed through the doors of the parlor, your eyes narrowed at the back of his head as he cleaned his station absentmindedly. Pausing your hunt to offer a warm smile to Choso as he greeted you, you quickly locked back in. It didn’t seem too busy in the shop today, only one other customer in the back getting the finishing touches of their ink.

Taking advantage of his lack of attention, you quietly made your way over and took a seat in his tattoo chair, holding back a groan of relief at the weight being taken off your twisted ankle. As he turned back around, it didn’t surprise you that he didn’t jump in the slightest at your sudden appearance. Hiding the tiny smile tugging at his lips with a short scoff, he reached up to flick at your forehead before swooping in with an urging hand on your jaw to press a kiss to your temple, your cheeks mushing together under his grip.

“There you are, geez. What took you so damn long— got lost?”

“No, funny story actually,” You began, watching with a tilted head as he began putting his supplies away. “I ran into this guy that looked just like you. Pink hair and everything!”

This made his movements falter for a fraction of a second, and you could practically see the realization don on his face that he’d forgotten to tell you something. Playing it off as he always did though, he only hummed in response. Narrowing your eyes again, you finally thought of the one thing that might actually startle him for once.

“Yeah, it was pretty embarrassing. I accidentally kissed him and—”

“You kissed my brother?” His baffled shout echoed through the shop, the bottle in his hand clattering to the ground abruptly.

“You kissed one of his brothers and it wasn’t me?” Choso shouted incredulously from the front, face morphed in bitter betrayal. “Yuji doesn’t even like girls!”

Sukuna felt his eye twitch, and he wasn’t sure which one of his siblings’ necks to wring out first. Deciding that Choso was closest and therefore easier game, he quickly pivoted on his heels to make a beeline for his target before you squeaked at the predicament you’d caused, snatching him back by his wrist with poorly disguised laughter.

“Wait! Wait! I surrender, I was kidding— spare him!”

The pure mass of him had you tumbling from the chair, clinging onto him desperately to give his half-brother a running start to lock himself in the bathroom. A pained yelp fell from your lips as you stumbled after him. This had him abruptly whipping his head around, staring down at the way you limped back over to the chair.

“The fuck happened to you?” He was kneeling down before you had the chance to answer, grasping at your calf as his other hand worked the fleece-lined boot from your foot. Leaning back on your hands, your scrunched face stared down at him as he carefully peeled your sock back to reveal the red skin that was paving the way for a gnarly bruise. Along with it though were the scars and blisters that your pointe shoes had graced you with over the years, and he tutted under his breath.

“Well, it kinda freaked me out when I saw Yuji.” You explained sheepishly, wincing as he ran a thumb over the warm skin. “And my feet were already killing me from practice, so I tripped up a little.”

“Can’t blame you— punk’s got an ugly fucking mug.”

Despite the searing ache in your feet, you couldn’t help the airy laugh that bubbled up your chest at his ridiculous claim. A smirk slid onto his lips at the sound. From your peripheral, you saw Choso poke his head out of the bathroom to check if the coast was clear, and you offered a subtle thumbs up, biting back an amused smile as he carefully slipped out to quietly take his place back at the front.

Sukuna ditched the plans he had to take you to lunch, opting to take you back to his place so you could get off your feet. You flushed initially at the idea, still never having stepped foot into his apartment since you two started… whatever this was that you two had started. Your unease was palpable as you sat stiffly on his couch, watching as he bustled around the kitchen after having told you to wait here.

He almost looked too large for the space he was residing in, the appliances in his kitchen appearing ridiculously small next to him. You couldn’t help but wonder what he’d look like in his pajamas, hovering menacingly over that stove as he cooked you breakfast after—

You quickly cleared your throat, cheeks burning as you tore your gaze from him in search of anything that might distract you from your impure thoughts. With a wandering gaze, you landed on the picture frame sitting idly on his side table. Sukuna had his middle finger positioned at the camera, partially blocking his face as his other arm was slung around the neck of the boy that had startled you so badly just hours prior, his brother's finger hooked into his already beaming smile to pull at his lip. You smile softly at the picture, being able to detect the subtle softness in the brooding man’s eyes even with all the layers of stone he always seemed put up before him.

“Alright, take them dogs out.” The man in question commanded as he trudged back into the living room with a bucket in tow. Your brows furrowed as he set it down on the floor in front of you. As if you had already been taking too long to comply, he kneeled down with a disapproving tsk to snatch your socks off himself and roll up your sweatpants before lowering your aching feet into the water.

“Ah—” You hissed as the warm water enveloped your inflamed tendons and skin. A few short pants escaped you before morphing into a sigh of relief as you felt your feet throb as if thanking you for showing them mercy. Slumping back against the couch, your eyes shifted apprehensively between him and the bucket. “Um, Ryo, do you happen to have any—”

“Salt? I already put a shit ton in there.”

“Oh.” You blinked in surprise, watching as he finally stood from his knelt position to trek back to the kitchen and procure a water bottle from the fridge. Finally sinking into the spot beside you, he passed over the bottle. “How’d you know to put it in there?”

A small, questioning hum left him, and you tilted your head down to the bucket.

“Punk’s been running track for years.” He explained as he slung an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his side. “If you think your toes are fucked up, you should see what I’ve had to soak off that bastard’s feet— shit’s not natural.”

A laugh attempted to leave you, but it came out closer to a groan than anything else, your head falling back against the cushion in agony over the state of your feet. Shifting your head to the side to look up at him, you found that he was already looking down at you. The intensity in his eyes seemed to suck you in, opening the smallest window to the inner thoughts that he seemed so protective of.

You found yourself flushing at the way it never wavered, unabashedly trained on you as though he could possess you by will alone if only he tried just hard enough. His fingers caught your jaw as you tried to escape it in hopes of calming your racing heart, ruby eyes dragging down your face until they fell upon the lips that were smushed between his fingers.

“You didn’t really kiss my brother, did you, doll?” He tested, his hot breath creating a mind-numbing humidity over your gently parted lips. The faintest of whimpers escaped you, and you quickly shook your head in hopes that he’d put you out of your misery already and kiss you as you’d been waiting for all day. Your response made him smirk, his nose brushing against your as he seemed to inhale each shaky breath that left your mouth. “Good, cause I woulda’ hated if I had to scrub him off of ya’.”

Lord, if you’re up there, please spare me.

Your frantic inner prayer seemed to fall on deaf ears though, because Ryo was swiftly pulling you in for a nearly bruising kiss, barely giving you the time to relish it before releasing you all together. He always loved the look on your face— the tiniest of disappointed furrow in your brows paired with that glossed pout— it drove him to the brink of insanity each time.

Gluing your eyes to your lap for the sake of having anything else to concentrate on, your fingers dug into your thighs for a moment as you thought of something to say. Hearing the sloshing of the water bucket as you shifted uncertainly, you were reminded of why you were in this position in the first place.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a twin?” You finally broke the tense silence, the one during which his gaze not once left your delicate side profile. A dainty smile pulled at your lips when you glanced back up at him. “Probably would have saved me the embarrassment— his boyfriend looked like he was going to kill me on the spot.”

“Why— think you’d like the other one better?” It was so like him to brush off your questions with a jab and a matching smirk, though you had a feeling there was some truth hiding in the depths of this one.

“Is that what you thought?” You questioned, not matching his banter as you usually did. Instead, your voice was level, careful in how it broached this topic with him.“That I’d prefer your brother?”

The reaction he tried to disguise revealed itself within his fluttering blink, the way his smirk faltered for even just a millisecond before he scoffed. You caught it though— that rare sliver of vulnerability in his eyes just before he turned his head away from you under the guise of pushing his hair from his forehead.

“Bullshit,” He quipped, that guarded smirk back on his face faster than it had left. Reaching down to scoop up the towel he’d left beside the bucket, he placed it in his lap before abruptly pulling your feet out of the now luke-warm water to dry them. “Brat might be nicer than me, but he sure ass hell don’t got my hands, huh?”

Before you could even consider flushing at the implications of his words, said hands were kneading into the searing arch of your feet with more pressure than any of the myriad of foot rollers you’d come to know in all your years could ever manage. All thoughts of Yuji and his brother’s oddly stubborn defenses vanished from you as you fell back horizontally against the couch, a gutteral groan leaving you that Sukuna hadn’t even realized could come out of such a comparably small person.

“Geez, doll,” He whistled lowly through the pure mirth etched onto his face as he drifted his focus down to your heels, rolling his knuckles over them tantalizingly. “Not what I imagined when I thought of you all spread out and moaning on my couch, but I’ll take it.”

With a burning flush, you dug the back of your head into the cusion below you to shield yourself from his teasing gaze.

“Sorry,” You mumbled, covering your timid face behind your hands with a blissful sigh. “Just haven’t had much of a break lately.”

“Take it easy the next few days.” He grumbled as though he hated how his own concern sounded in his ears, fingers trailing up to gently massage into your calves. His neck nearly snapped with the abrupt turn it took at the sound of your quiet, incredulous laugh at his suggestion. “Did I say something fuckin’ funny?”

“No!” You squeaked, though the amusement still lingered in your tone as you peaked at him through your fingers. He only raised his brows at you in challenge. “That’s just… not possible right now. Swan Lake is only like a week away, remember?”

Of course he remembered— he had been reeling to see you perform again since that first night you took his breath away, though he’d never admit it. The air of nonchalance that waved from him when your ecstatic voice squealed through his phone weeks prior that you had been picked to portray Odette was carefully calculated. In truth though, he felt as though his chest might burst with a sense of pride he wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced before.

Sure, he hadn’t the slightest clue who the fuck this Odette character was, but he wasn’t at all surprised after a quick google search that you would have been the only choice fit for the lead role— though perhaps he was a little biased. The stoic man wasn’t upfront with his praises though, but you heard it loud and clear in his simple response of yeah, no shit you got picked, a hidden smile lingering in his otherwise gruff tone.

“Yeah? How you gonna play Odyssey with no fuckin’ toes left?” He quipped, purposefully mistaking the name just to hear that saccharine laughter of yours as he paused his massage to creep between your legs.

“It’s Odette, Ryo!” You giggled, pushing at his chest to no avail as he hovered over you to pepper wet kisses along your jaw. “And I can’t afford to slack off.”

“You’re taking a day offa’ practice.” He grumbled against your ear before snagging the soft lobe between his teeth. Your breathless pants tickled his neck, and the hands that had since been haphazardly shoving at his broad shoulders curled into the neckline of his shirt.

Those pretty, pink lips that took up so much space in his mind circled into the gentlest of oh’s as his hand wandered down your waist and grasped at your hip, pulling it up to press you against him.

“I-I can’t—”

Slipping that same hand down, he cupped at the warmth between your legs purposefully, sending your back arching up from the plush cushions.

“Hm?” He hummed tauntingly at your sudden loss for words, easing up the pressure on your center just enough to make you beg him for it. “You gonna stay home and rest those pretty little legs of yours tomorrow?”

The heat radiating from your cheeks warmed his lips as he traced them up your face and nipped at your pouted lips. You nodded deleriously, tangling your hands into his hair to pull him in to properly kiss you.

“I’ll take a break.” You barely got out against his curled up lips before he was consuming you once again.

His once idle hand eagerly snuck up to dive down the front of your sweatpants, and he tsked in aggravation at the barrier that was the leotard and tights you had yet to change out of. Pulling away from you with a wet smack, he instead focused his efforts on snaking down your body, pressing kisses against your clothed chest, across your ribs and down your stomach.

A faint rumble had him pausing his pursuit to glance up at you, that familiar glitter of amusement hidden in his ruby eyes. You quickly shook your head, mumbling that you were fine, and your eagerness had all but convinced him that you were, diving back down to slip his fingers into the waistband of your sweats. Your fingers danced up to tangle into his already mustled hair, lifting your hips ever so slightly so he could tug down your bottoms. They had only just barely grazed the swell of your ass before he heard it again— this time more vengeful than the last.

“Okay, put your fuckin’ shoes on, we’re getting you a burger.”

Much to your dismay, Ryo did convince you (stood over your shoulder until you texted your instructor that you were sick) to take the day off of practice the next day. In his defense, the foot that you had injured the day prior had begun to take on a faint purple hue along the bridge. Still, you couldn’t help but barely relax the entire day as you were meant to be doing— too caught up in the fear that the mere day you were taking would set you back tremendously.

Truthfully, while you were completely over the moon to have been given such a coveted role, one you’d dreamt of since you were little no less, the years of buildup had paved the way for a blackhole of self doubt. Not only were you given the opportunity to perform your dream role, but you knew for a fact there would be recruiters for at least three professional dance companies in attendance for the show. Additionally and nearly as nerve-wrecking, Ryo would be there, and it would be the first performance he would see following that first night you two had spent together.

With how matter of factly he always spoke of your dancing abilities, you couldn’t bear the humiliation of messing up under his watch. Aside from him, your identity as a dancer was all you had since moving here. Without it, you weren’t sure there was anything left to you at all. There was a gnawing fear sprouting roots in each of your bones that told you that Ryo wouldn’t find much else either. Perhaps it was unfair, unhealthy to be putting such pressure on yourself, but you’d much rather drown in your contradictions than bear the weight of swimming up to the surface to confront them.

Maybe it was the fact that you had worried yourself into the early hours of the morning when you should have been sleeping to prepare for the hours of practice that would be awaiting you when you woke. Even more likely was the fact that it was the barely healed, blackening bruise lingering maliciously on your foot that assured that you just wouldn’t for the life of you land any of your grand jetés, your aching tendon simply dipping too far under the leaden weight of your drops. Your partner, who would be fulfilling the role of Prince Siegfried alongside you, really did try to help, his hands tightening in a barely noticeable fashion around your waist each time you came down from your leaps in hopes of easing your landing so that you may execute it with more grace— but not even his mercy seemed to save you. Whatever you could inevitably point the blame at though caused you instructor to finally snap about four hours into practice that day.

It took barely a sharp glare, a hushed critique, but it sliced through you like a knife. Over the years, you had of course learned to take and constructively use the feedback given by your instructors, though the weight of your role’s importance to the success of the show perhaps made her words cutting and her eyes despondent toward your previously blossoming potential. You could even feel your partner’s typically playfully smug expression boring into the side of your head with barely concealed sympathy, but not even Satoru’s usually life saving swoop-ins could pull you out of the hole you were throwing yourself down.

You could hardly think of a thing else when you left that evening, sun already prepared to retreat soon for the night. The score played resoundingly in your headphones speakers that sat snuggly against your ears, aiding in your wide-eyed, mental rundown of each number on your trek back to your dorm, every muscle in your body seemingly screaming with every dragged step.

Nothing would allow you to let up on yourself, it seemed. You stared blankly into your fridge for nearly ten minutes following your scalding shower before deciding your mind was far too preoccupied to conjure up any sort of appetite. And so you didn’t rest when you got home that day. With the increasingly taunting melodies of Tchaikovsky's compositions filling the already tense air of your dorm, you continued your trembling fouettés and pirouettes until each of your steps wavered and it became glaringly difficult to lift yourself from your rocky landings.

There was barely a glimmer of sunlight left shining from your window, and you weren’t sure how long you’d been furiously torturing yourself for, each falter or misstep being met with blindly frenzied repetitions. A sharp rap on your door seemed to shake your resolve, almost drowned out by the volume of your music that had been steadily ticking up and up and up until the fact that you hadn’t received a noise complaint had to have been chalked up to a heavenly intervention.

It startled you in the midst of your leap, reducing whatever semblance of grace you had prepared for your landing into a thudding heap on the floor. Your knee’s resounding smack against the wood floor along with your frustrated cry was only followed by a harsher pound at your door, and you were sure you saw the door frame rattle even if just by a hair.

“I’m coming!” You tried to sound as though you weren't ready to open your window and scream your miseries out to the world, though you weren’t sure how well it translated. A shuddering breath shook your frame as you rose from the floor to make your way to the door one wincing step at a time. You had barely the chance to crack the door before it was being pushed open, and the spine-chilling scowl on the face of the man who invited himself in would have had you calling campus security in any other situation. “Ryo?”

“What the hell happened to you? I haven’t heard from you since this morning. Ain’t been answering any of my—” His exasperated interrogation died in his throat as he took in the state of your dorm— namely the main floor, where your modest couch had been pushed haphazardly against the far corner of the room, with your rug rolled up and slouched against the wall. The body mirror that typically hung on your bathroom door was ripped from its place and leaned against the wall to face the makeshift practice space.

You watched with a waxing humiliation as his expression morphed into a startled disquietude he did little to mask. With a flickering gaze, the cool air of your space whipped against your burning cheeks as you shook your head, placing your hands desolately onto his shoulders in an attempt to push him back toward the door.

“You should go, I—”

“Like hell I should go, what the fuck is going on?” Sukuna’s venomous tone contrasted the desperately gentle manner at which he reached out to grasp at your cheeks. In his frenzied inspection of you, he noted how your flushed face and damp skin paired painstakingly with the droop of your exhausted eyes. “Have you stopped at all today?”

“I—” Your weak stammer pitched until you could no longer hear it falling from your lips. The fat of your cheeks squished against his palms as you slumped defeatedly into his grasp, a traitorous tear slipping down your burning eyes. You tried to cast your gaze downward in search of any solace against the way you were breaking down so pathetically before him, but his insistent fingers prevented you from doing anything of the sort.

His incredulous eyes widened as one tear turned into several, until no dam could possibly stop your abrupt onslaught onto the tightening grasp of his hands. And god, how he felt he was the worst person to have stumbled upon such a scene, because Sukuna had never in his life been sure what to do with tears. In all his years, he’d solved matters with his sharp tongue and barreling fists— though he’d never quite mastered the intricacies of handling anything with fragility or care.

So, as comforting as he thought he could manage, he stiffly pulled your head against his chest, sighing in modest relief when you buried your nose in further. The motion gave him hope that just maybe whatever foreign moves he was making didn’t come off as horribly stiff and unnatural as they felt to him.

“I kept messing up my choreography today, a-and I just— I can’t—” The choked sobs were rendering your frenzied explanation nearly incomprehensible as you began heaving out your breaths. Your shoulders were jostling with the sudden expended efforts of your erratic breathing, and he decided that perhaps a hug wasn’t going to cut it, because your skin was clammy and you were choking on your breaths and he was sure you’d pass out any second now.

“Nah, c’mon, get it together f’me.” Ryo muttered with a crippling effort to not raise his voice and make the situation worse. With a firm hand on your nape, he began urging you toward the hall where he nearly tore your bathroom door off the hinges opening it. Twisting on the faucet of your ivory sink, his hand pushed you down until your frazzled face was a mere inches from the now running water. Cupping his hand under the stream, he ran the starkly cool water down your feverish face. You gasped softly at the way it seemed to shock your already strung-out nervous system. “Breathe, dammit.”

But the much needed air was already crashing against your withering lungs like waves against an unsuspecting shore as his hand continued splashing at your face.

“I’m sorry— I’m sorry.” You finally rasped out, feeling as though you were at last breaking through the surface tension that had been trapping you in your haze. The grip on your nape slowly loosened in tandem with your leveling breaths, and you leaned against the counter for support.

Sukuna switched the faucet off before turning you to face him once again. There were stray droplets of water still rolling down your face and dripping into the divets of your collarbones, and he swiped at your dribbling jaw as he waited for you to collect yourself. It was silent as his intense gaze burned holes into your forehead, and it pushed the few stray tears lingering in your waterline out.

“She told me that I—” You cut yourself off, face scrunching up in embarrassment, but he gently jostled you to urge your continuing. “That I-I’m not taking this seriously.”

“Fuck that—”

“No, she’s right, Ryo.” Your sudden insistence caught him off guard, his eyes searching yours incredulously because he couldn’t think of one person who could’ve grasped at their goals as tightly as you had between your delicate fingers. “I skipped practice yesterday, and I haven’t been putting in as much time as I can— I’m gonna mess everything up.”

“Hey, no that’s bullshit, you hear me?” His fingers squished at your cheeks in order to urge your wet gaze onto his grave eyes. “You ain’t a damn machine— how the hell do you expect to put in a hundred percent when you’re grinding yourself stupid? Huh?”

You didn’t answer him, instead opting to squeeze your eyes shut, chewing on your bottom lip.

“You need a break. You need to fucking relax, alright?”

“I can’t— I don’t know how.” You admitted meekly as your own trembling hands came up to grip desperately at his wrists. The scent of his cologne helped marginally to ground you as he leaned down to press ardent kisses against your temple and forehead. “I feel like I’m possessed or something. I can’t sit still, I can’t—”

“You gotta try for me, baby.” The way his gruff voice reverberated in his chest had you pulling yourself closer to him, desperate to drown in the intoxicating distraction that had been laid before you. Because Ryomen— he smelled like a forest, his hands were so sure in their pursuit of you, his voice flowing like the most expensive of wines, and he had never called you that before, and you thought there was nowhere you’d rather plummet into insanity than his fortifying embrace.

“Can you…” Your soft whisper drifted in apprehension, a deep scarlet painting your still drying cheeks. He hummed in question, already terrifyingly resolute in his decision that he’d burn cities down to complete whatever request it was that would fall from your lips if it meant that painstaking little crease of worry between your brows would leave you alone. “Can you help me? You know… r-relax?”

And oh how his chest filled with pride, because the tears and the speeches were lost on him but this? This he could do, he determined as he sank to his knees before you. He’d felt utterly hopeless at the hands of your tender nature and gentle touches, because he knew that anyone else would be able to reciprocate them to you far better than he could ever hope to, though he knew one thing for certain as he tugged your bottoms down, chin propped on your navel to look up at you in that sweltering manner he was so good at— there was no one alive or dead that would be able to take care of you like he intended to.

Your hands found purchase on the counter behind you in desperate pursuit of support as he nudged your legs further apart and buried his head between them. His tongue was warm as it lapped mercilessly at your center, urging hands gripping at the back of your thigh to wrangle one of your legs over his shoulder. He moaned against you as you arched into him, his grip around your thigh tightening as if to encourage your movements, and you found yourself crying out along with him. Your chords meshed together and danced harmoniously off the thin walls of your dingy, dorm bathroom.

The mystery raced through your mind of what planet this man had come from, as he was managing to pull at threads you hadn’t known existed in you with each skilled thrust of his tongue. Your balance wavered on the leg that remained standing, trembling on its tiptoes as it attempted desperately to keep up with him to no avail. Just as you slipped forward, Sukuna’s bicep was hooking under the wavering limb before hoisting himself up along with you.

Your back fell against the mirror once he dropped you onto the counter, and his fingers were soon replacing his tongue just as all your crippling thoughts of self doubt were soon replaced by him. Him as he lurched forward over the sink to capture your lips, allowing you to taste yourself lingering on his tongue before leaning back to watch the way you began to desperately grind yourself against his fingers.

“What are you thinking about right now?” He all but growled out as his fingers found a blistering rhythm within you, the continuous, wet smacks of his palm against your heat making it difficult for you to think of anything at all though. So, you only whined out in response, your feet craning up to gain any kind of leverage on the counter’s edge. At once, his free hand was grasping at your nape to angle your gaze to look up at him, his incandescent eyes demanding to be met. “I asked you a question.”

“You!” You gasped out, the searing pleasure making way for the tears that gathered in the corner of your eyes. He smiled wolfishly at your response, and you moaned softly at the sight. “Just you, I’m thinking about you, Ryo.”

“Yeah?” Sukuna muttered smugly, grasping at your leg as it continued to slip against the counter in search of support.

His heated touch ran down your calf teasingly until it curled around your ankle that was still partially covered by the ties of your pointe shoes. Ever so slowly, as if testing the spellbinding flexibility that had had the perverse wheels turning in his head since he first witnessed it on stage all those weeks ago, he inched your leg up and up and up until the bridge of your foot brushed against the mirror only a mere inches away from your rapturous face. For once, the wind felt as though it had been knocked from his lungs at the sight, but he worked to quickly compose himself lest you bear witness to the slip in his resolve.

So, he instead leaned in closer to you, the back of your thigh now flush against his chest as his hand kept your leg pinned up. A shuddering moan slipped from you at the feeling of his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“And what am I doing in those thoughts of yours, doll?” The whisper sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help but turn your face away from him bashfully. Tutting softly in mocking disapproval, he nudged your face forward once again with a push of his nose against your chin. “Hm? Speak up now, I can’t hear you.”

But your climax was nearing closer and closer, evident in the way your warmth squeezed around his relentless fingers and your breaths grew choppy. Perhaps that was the only reason you had the nerve to actually answer him.

“Y-You’re— ah!” A sharp gasp shook you as he angled his palm to brush against your clit with each stroke, but he quickly ground out for you to keep talking. “You’re making love to me, Ryo.”

Your high came crashing down onto you just as your words seemed to shatter his mind, his mouth falling open in tandem with your pitched cries as you peaked. His brows drew fiercely together, his teeth gritting together as he worked you through the waves of your release, and he no longer cared if you saw the way his thusfar fierce front had fallen, because Ryomen couldn’t possibly want anything more in that moment than for you to allow him to bring your lust-clouded thoughts to fruition as he leaned forward to swallow your moans.

“Can’t talk like that, doll.” He groaned despondently against your lips, foreheads brushing together while your lower half jolted against him.

“Why?” In your delirium, you could have cried at his disapproval.

“Cause I might just fucking do it, that’s why.”

It fell silent in the already small bathroom that seemed all the more cramped with Sukuna’s Herculean figure occupying the majority of it. Your soft pants puffed against his mouth, eyes fluttering out a stray tear as you reached up to grasp at his nape. The sensation of your nails dragging down the blunt hairs of his undercut made his fingers curl deeper around your ankle, scrambling for any semblance of restraint. It would never come though, because you had the gall to pout against his parted lips, your grip like a vice on his neck as you whispered to him.

“Please, Ryo.”

He certainly didn’t feel as though he deserved such a privilege, but it was also far from him to make you beg for a part of him that was already wholeheartedly yours. So, his grip fell from your leg in favor of scooping you up by your thighs, your dripping core soaking against his shirt as he moved through your dorm like a man possessed, kicking at your bedroom door impatiently.

You barely had the chance to recover from the abrupt manner in which you bounced back against your mattress before he was wrangling your sweater from over your head. Sighing wantonly at the sight of his tattoo marked proudly against your heaving sternum, he leaned down to sink his teeth into it. Any semblance of rationality seemed so far from you as your jaw hung open, and you blindly reached down to tug at the back of his shirt until he disconnected from you to pull it off.

In a lust-filled haze, you reached out to trace the black ink that ran down his chest, making him hum appreciatively, his own hands capturing yours to hold them against him even if for just a moment longer. Slowly though, those sinful hands were drifting down your bare sides until his fingers dug into the swell of your hips to yank you down until your ass was just barely kissing the edge of the bed.

“These legs drive me fucking ballistic.” His sultry confession would have made you blush had you not already been spread open so vulnerably before him. Laden fingers dragged down your legs as he gathered them up to rest against his chest, turning his head to press salacious, open mouthed kisses along your calves. With a feather-light touch, he drifted up toward your ankle before tugging at the tie of your pointe shoes hungrily. That fervid, side-long glance he tossed your way as he worked the stiff shoes off you was nearly too intense to take head on, but there was a glint in his eyes that told you that you should know better than to look away.

The offending shoes fell against the floor with a soft thud. The keen gaze he kept on you should have sent you sprinting, akin to an apex predator scouting its next meal. As you assured yourself just moments prior though, you knew better. So, you stayed perfectly still, save your heaving breaths, as he dug a small, gold foiled packet from his wallet, holding it between his teeth before working his belt off and allowing his pants to pool at his feet.

There was the slightest hint of a pause as Ryo allowed the scene to settle in— to give you a chance to turn back at the very moment you’d left off on the last time your fates brushed this closely. That resistance never came though, and your ankles dug into his shoulders in anticipation. Your eyes fell on their own volition as he pushed his boxers down to join the rest of his clothes, and you thought you might swallow your own tongue in the midst of your shock.

His erection sprang from its cotton prison, ever so gently brushing against your core in its escape. You shuddered at the sensation, but for once your tremors rooted not in fear but instead in an aching anticipation. Much like the rest of him, as you had assumed, he was intimidatingly… above average— not that you had much by way of comparison. Gulping down the saliva that seemed to pool dramatically on your tongue, you took note of the black rings that circled his upper thighs, and you couldn’t help but let your lips curl up at the sight.

“What’re you smilin’ at, huh?” Ryomen teased through clenched teeth, the condom still hanging between his lips. An adoring smirk was splitting across his own face as he took the opportunity to pump leisurely as his leaking cock, using his free hand to smooth up your navel.

“You just… match everywhere.” Your timid giggle had his length twitching in his grip, his intense gaze softening just a bit. Abandoning his caress against your lower half, he reached up to tear open the foil between his teeth.

“What— don’t like ‘em?” His husky question was followed by the teasing plap of his heavy cockhead on your sensitive bud. The amused smile on your lips quickly fell into a sharp gasp at the sensation. Sukuna hummed as he rolled the condom over his aching length before guiding it through your folds.

“I love them.” Your sincere, breathless confession caught him off guard. “You look like… a piece of art, Ryo.”

For the first time since knowing him, you watched a genuine flush fall over his face at your words. Wide eyes were staring down at you as though he’d never received a compliment a day in his life, but, truthfully, he wasn’t sure anyone had ever bothered showing him such tenderness, always preferring to veer off his path lest they get caught in his crossfires. There was a barely noticeable tremble in his breath as he sighed out.

“Art, huh? Nah.” He murmured, pushing forward until his tip dipped into your straining entrance.

You cried out softly at the abrupt stretch, and he quickly hushed you with a soothing hand up your thigh. It felt so incredibly cathartic, enduring the dull pain at the hands of Ryomen. No matter how much you felt you might split in two as he gradually introduced each inch of himself into your honied heat, you would have done it all over again if it meant you’d be able to see that look on his face as he bottomed out. Eyes rolled back, fingers clutching at your thighs as they rested against his chest with a bruising grip, with a gaping mouth that curled up at the corners in a lingering, intoxicated smirk.

He fell forward until your knees pushed up against your breasts, moving one hand to fist the sheets beside your head to pace himself as he licked at the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“This is art.” Sukuna corrected as he dipped down to capture each, pained whimper that fell past your lips until it was your moans would soon compete against his favorite of artists, because if he was art then you must be a masterpiece.

You slept with a serenity that rivaled a corpse that night, your dreams floating through clouds as your mind was utterly consumed by him. For the first time in weeks, something had rivaled the searing ache in your feet, and it was the dull reminder of Ryomen between your thighs— though you couldn’t possibly bring yourself to deem that particular pain unwelcomed as you stirred from your slumber.

The frigid air bit at your bare skin, sending a tremor through your shoulders. Cracking your eyes open, you were greeted by the sight of the man so many seemed to fear, his lips gently pouted as half his face molded against your pink pillow sheet. You wondered if it was his perpetually defensive nature that made him sleep on his stomach, the idea putting an amused grin on your tired features as you observed how his arms clutched onto the pillow under his head.

His legs were tangled into yours under the covers, giving you the vital information that he seemed to be putting out far more body heat than you could hope to at this hour. Shuffling closer to him, you carefully placed a hand under his arm in an attempt to lift it just enough to slip into his warm embrace for solace against the cold.

“What’re you doin’, brat?” His gravelly voice cut through the morning silence, catching you red handed without ever having opened his eyes.

Biting back the disappointment upon realizing that you weren’t nearly as stealthy as you thought, you smiled sheepishly despite his closed eyes.

“I’m cold.” You whispered softly.

“No one told you to get this thin ass blanket.” He grumbled, and you let out a quiet huff of disappointment before turning over and pulling the covers tighter over yourself. It only took a mere few seconds though to hear the rustling of sheets behind you, and you were soon being enveloped in a bear-like embrace nonetheless. His arm dipped under your head to cross over your chest, and you smiled against the warmth of his forearm. “What’re you smiling for? Too fuckin’ early.”

The fervent kisses he began pressing against your shoulder contradicted his grumpy rambling though, and he was soon nosing at your jaw for you to expose your neck to him. His teeth sank into the new area bared to him, and you arched against him just as his tongue began circling the attacked skin.

“Hmm,” He hummed in a deep baritone, his hand running up your thigh before dipping down to where you still ached of him. “Better cancel whatever fuckin’ plans you had today.”

Just as you nearly allowed yourself to succumb to him once more, his words sunk into your still barely functioning mind.

“Oh my god!” You shrieked, shooting up from his grip and nearly tumbling off the bed as you reached for your phone.

“Woah, woah, settle down. What the hell are you tweaking about?” Ryo groaned, rubbing at his now ringing ear as he propped himself up to watch you.

“I’m late! Oh my god, I’m so late.” You rambled through trembling breaths. It was like watching a tornado ripping through your tiny room, clothes flying as you wrangled on whatever was closest to you. He quickly sat up at your frenzied movements. “I’m supposed to be at practice!”

“Hey, take a fucking breather, you’re gonna pass out.”

“I can’t take a fucking breather, Ryomen!” His eyes widened at your uncharacteristic tone, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard such… unsavory language falling from your lips. Tears of frustration blurred your vision as you began shoving your abandoned pointe shoes haphazardly into your bag. “I keep messing everything up, I’m such a—”

“Nothing’s messed up—”

“Everything’s messed up!” You cried, grunting in frustration as you shoved your aching feet into your boots. “My foot is still messed up, my routine is messed up, my instructor thinks I’m a joke, and I’m about to screw everything up because I keep letting myself get distracted, and I—”

“Distracted?” Sukuna scoffed, pulling on his boxers as he stood up to follow you out of your bedroom. “Is that what I was fucking doing last night? Distracting you?”

“I don’t have time for this right now, Ryo.”

“Well you better find some fucking time before you mess this up too.” He regretted them as soon as the words left his mouth, but his entire nervous system had switched onto the defense at your ruthless undermining of what had transpired between you two last night.

The wounded expression on your delicate face told him he should drop to his knees to beg your forgiveness, but the wounded pride of the rejected child in him refused to submit so easily. So, he simply stared back at you with that callous expression you hadn’t ever seen him dare direct your way. Wiping furiously at your traitorous tears, you slung your bag over your shoulder and left, slamming the front door behind you.

That door had shut in his face five days ago, and you had yet to hear from him since. In hindsight, you knew that what you said was out of line, and it was clear that you had hurt him in a way that he would refuse to outwardly display. Sukuna would always bare his teeth before showing his belly— you knew that whole heartedly even after knowing him a mere few months. Still, his words stung, and you were too afraid of how the things he’d left unsaid might feel if you should reach out to him first in the midst of his anger.

You tried to use his absence to your advantage, throwing yourself wholeheartedly into your now daily practices that went hours on end. Your grief, anger, and betrayal fueled each twist and turn, each leap you aimed to perfect until you could convince yourself it was worth what you had damaged in the name of your passion. Even when you finally received that pathetically anticipated approval from your instructor, it no longer felt as sweet.

There was hardly time for you to wallow over Roy’s radio silence though, because Swan Lake was in a day, and you weren’t even sure that he’d still show up. The thought clutched at your chest, but you were quick to dismiss Satoru when he’d whispered his concerns into your ear during your final dress rehearsal. It felt as though you were back in that desperate solitude that had inadvertently veered you on his path in the first place.

Sukuna had been pretending that it wasn’t eating him alive that you had yet to crack first, but he sure as hell wouldn’t do it. Everyone around him could tell though. He was quiet— even more so than usual, and the fuse that they were sure couldn’t get any shorter was blowing easier than ever. Choso was met with a biting snap when he dared to ask why he hadn’t seen you around lately, so he figured you must have something to do with it, and he’d be damned if he sat back and simply watched his brother fuck this up.

“Hey,” Despite his determination, his tone was still careful as he approached the pink-haired man who was still hunched over his client, brows furrowed as he concentrated on the cat he was coloring in on the woman’s thigh. It so obnoxiously reminded him of you and the soft spot you held in your heart for the damned feral animals. Sukuna grunted in question at his half-brother. “You still coming to the show tonight?”

He paused his careful strokes for a fraction of a second before blinking away his frustration.

“Why the hell wouldn’t I be?”

His gruff response made Choso’s eyes roll in annoyance. It was so like him to pretend as though no one could tell that something was going on with him.

“Well she just texted me to ask, so I figured there was a reason.”

It took every bit of restraint in him not to jolt in surprise and completely fuck up this client’s day. Why didn’t she text him? Why the hell did she feel more comfortable going to his damn brother than him? His jaw clicked as it clenched in indignation. An aggravated huff escaped him as he wiped at the woman’s tattoo and prepared to wrap it up.

“You can tell her that if she wants to know that she can ask me her fucking self.” The dark-haired man’s brows rose at his brother’s tone, pursing his lips as he turned on his heels with a shake of his head, a motion that certainly didn't go over Sukuna’s head. “You got something to say?”

“Other than you’re going to regret whatever the hell it is you’re sulking over in a few days? Nah, it’s all good. I’ll let her know that Yuji and I are still coming.”

He didn’t give him a chance for a rebuttal before he made his way back up to the front. A grumbled tut left him as he cleaned the tattoo before him and began wrapping it.

“That sketch is gorgeous.” The client commented as he busied himself with her wrap. He glanced up at her in question before following her gaze to the sketch that he’d created for you that night and inevitably inked on you. The original was still taped to his station, always having been his favorite reminder of you to get him through his shifts. “You the artist? I have a friend who would probably love to get that inked.”

Faster than he could even fully process her request, he was adamantly shaking his head with a fierce defensiveness. Even through the haze of his hurt, he knew that that drawing would never grace the skin of anyone else— no one else would be worthy of a piece inspired by you, no one had the right. He couldn’t bear the thought of tainting its sanctity with the likes of some of the scum that came through here.

“Out of commission.” He gruffed plainly, not bothering to grace the notion with an explanation. Ripping off his gloves, his eager fingers dug his phone from his back pocket, but he was only met with further disappointment at the realization that— no, you still hadn’t reached out.

As he walked his client to the front, he could see his brother typing away adamantly on his phone, and it pissed him off to think of you on the other end of it with the reassurance that his damn brothers would be coming to support you tonight.

Sukuna couldn’t drag himself outside fast enough, hiding under the guise of needing some air when, truthfully, he was tempted to rip the stupid fucking buns right off Choso’s head if he heard his phone ping one more time. It was his rage, that’s what he’d blame it on as his thumbs furiously pounded at the poor, unsuspecting screen of his phone before hitting send.

I’ll be there.

You were sure you would throw up if there had been anything in your stomach to begin with that day. With your nerves so overwhelmingly shot, you could barely stomach a few saltine crackers before even they were making you nauseous.

Staring back at you in the mirror was the woman you had been fighting tooth and nail for for so long. The white, feathered headpieces sat snuggly against your temples and into the sides of your slicked-back bun. You almost didn’t recognize yourself in the dramatically winged, dark shadow that shrouded your eyes.

You couldn’t be sure if the reassurance that Ryo would be coming despite your near week of radio silence comforted or intimidated you even more.

From the closed door of your dressing room, you could hear the orchestra performing each intricate number as act one got the ball rolling. There were dancers in and out of the room, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move, stuck idly in your chair as you awaited act two to begin with your entrance.

No matter how much you had soaked it, iced it, rolled it— goddamn it, prayed over it, your foot still throbbed under the constraints of your pointe shoes. It only needed to get through the next hour and a half— that’s the mantra that played like a broken record in your head in hopes of calming your very real fears of it failing you mid-performance.

The minor piece of solace you had apart from that was that your sudden change in behavior had urged you and Satoru to get a bit more comfortable with each other as you had to begrudgingly explain to him why you had been a bit off your game. You were shocked when the man, who you were sure hadn’t a sincere bone in his body, reassured you that he’d be more cautious with you with each lift and land the two of you had ahead of you tonight given your injury.

You watched with bated breath from the side stage as Satoru aimed the prop crossbow before turning to prance toward his stage left to mimic his hunt, the long awaited queue for your entrance. The peripherals of your vision blurred as you allowed your muscle memory to take over, and you were soon landing your grand jeté before dipping into your first bow as Odette.

Ryomen felt each last puff of air in his lungs abandon him at the sight of you with your breathtakingly intricate, snow-white costume, truly embodying a princess. He had admittedly been growing restless throughout the first half hour of the production without so much as a glimpse of you. Now though, as the glimmering crown tucked into your hair shimmered under the stage lights, he was sure he’d wait it tenfold to relive the magnetic way you commanded the stage upon your first arabesque.

The grip he had around the base of the bouquet he’d brought you tightened as he watched you and your partner float about the stage, twisting and turning against and around each other with a synchronicity that embodied just how much dedication you two had put into your performative chemistry— at least that’s what he hoped as your noses brushed in an almost kiss.

Not even in his wildest dreams would he have thought he’d ever find himself sitting through a two-hour ballet, but you had him completely enraptured. He recalled what you had mentioned about the recruiters that would be coming to this performance, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was your night. The recruiters had to be captivated by you— just as every soul that was surrounding him seemed to be.

As the show progressed, it was clear how you lost yourself inch by inch to Odette, and you soon weren’t sure where you ended and she began. You had just been starting to convince yourself that you’d make it. There was but a half hour left, and though you could feel your injured foot growing angrier and angrier with each pointed formation, you were pushing it to the back of your mind, something to be dealt with later.

But somewhere after the fourteenth of the iconic thirty-two fouettes in a row you had to execute as your darker counterpart, Odile, was perhaps the beginning of the end for your optimism. As fate would have it, each gruelling fouette was meant to be spun off of that fucking foot, and by the end of them you were sure your face was tinted red from the way you held back your cries of pain.

Ryomen could see it too, despite how well you disguised it as an expression of passion. His fingers dug deeper and deeper into his thighs with each spin during the sequence, because he could practically feel that bruised foot crumbling under such pressure. Despite it all— you did it, and, not only that, you made it appear damn near effortless.

It was nearing the final number now, and he had been watching your eyes morph with each second that passed. Perhaps it wasn’t clear to anyone else, but he knew that glassy look wasn’t just your impeccable dedication to the scene. You had been changed back into your white swan costume, taking the stage with both Prince Seigfried and Rothbart as you gracefully dashed yourself between the arms of each man. It wasn’t until the final leap that Satoru would catch you from that you felt it.

Just as your pointed foot hit the stage floor, you could all but hear the tiniest of cracks. Your breath hitched, a nearly muted choke catching in your throat that luckily the audience couldn’t hear over the orchestra. Satoru did though, his hands on your waist tightening as he attempted to subtly lift you ever so slightly to take some of the weight off your foot. A whimper lingered in the back of your throat as the pain radiated up your leg.

“It’s okay.” Your white-haired partner whispered subtly so as not to break the illusion of the performance. “You just have to make it to the lake.”

His near silent reassurance into your ear was fleeting as you spun away from him. Make it to the lake. The words were chanting like a mantra in your head.

Ryomen thought the armrest of his seat would snap under the pressure of his grip, watching in horror as a single tear slipped down your cheek upon that fateful landing, and he knew something had gone wrong. Judging by the way your partner seemed to subtly lean in to whisper in your ear, he knew he was right.

Still, your remaining bourrees across the stage were flawlessly executed despite you feeling the likely fracture in your foot arguably worsening with each step, and Odette was finally taken up into the arms of Rothbart, lifted high above his head to take her behind the veil of the lake to die— and that’s certainly what it felt like you were doing.

Sukuna was out of his seat before Prince Seigfried could even properly fall to his knees to mourn the loss of his love, practically hopping over seats to get to the back. It was proven difficult, what with all the attendees rising to their feet to offer a standing ovation as the show concluded. Finally making it out of the row, he shouldered into attendants and workers until he found the backstage entrance sign.

A worker placed a hand on his shoulder to inform him that he wasn’t authorized to go back there, but he knew the man wasn’t about to be stupid enough to fight him if he pushed his way through those doors anyway. There were troves of ballet dancers moving like ants through the hallways, all looking up at him in bewilderment as he pounded toward the dressing room at the end of the hall.

“Oi, you all had better be fucking decent cause I’m coming in!” It was the only warning he gave along with the three cautionary pounds against the door before he burst in. There in the far back surrounded by a myriad of frazzled dancers was you, still hauntingly enchanting in your Swan Queen costume as you heaved out cries against the cold floor. The pointe shoe on your injured foot had already been wrangled off, and Satoru was frantically tearing your tights between his fingers from the ankle down to observe the damage.

You looked up at the sudden commotion. The dramatic, black makeup that had been so intricately painted onto your face was now streaming down your cheeks in ugly, noir waves as your face scrunched up heartbreakingly at the sight of him standing before you.

“Ryo.” You choked out helplessly between your heaving sobs of pain, and he felt his heart shatter all at once. Parting through the sea of dancers, he shoved at the white-haired man’s shoulder.

“Move the fuck outta my way.” Sukuna bit out, probably much harsher than necessary for someone who seemed to be trying to help, but he did just watch this dude grabbing at your waist and thighs and caressing your face for damn near two hours straight. And sure, he knew it was all part of the performance, but fuck you didn’t warn him that you’d actually be kissing the dude. In spite of it all, Satoru didn’t need to be told twice before he was standing to let him take over.

“I-I think it’s broken. I can’t m-move it—”

“It’s okay, I’m right here.” He urged, his fingers just barely ghosting over your calf as he took in the sight of your mangled foot. It had swollen considerably within the confines of your pointe shoe over the past few hours, and the nearly black skin was hot to the touch.

“The recruiters, Ryo— I screwed it up, I—”

“Fuck the recruiters, I’m taking you to the fucking hospital.” You didn’t get much of a word in edgewise as he scooped you up, darting through the parted crowd and out the back exit.

Though he wasn’t quite sure what he would say if given the chance, your frenzied sobs filled the air around you two the entire drive. He tried to calm you, but it was proven difficult with his split attention on the road. It also wasn’t clear if your cries were mainly attributed to the pain or the mental anguish. Still, with sweat beginning to bead at his temples, he grasped at your hand and placed it over his chest in a desperate attempt to get you to match his breathing. Although it seemed like you were truly trying, you continued choking up with each throb of your foot.

Sukuna’s perpetual feeling of being absolutely worthless continued as you sat silently in the hospital bed, only your occasional sniffles breaking through the white noise of the room as you awaited the okay from the doctor to be discharged. The xray they performed confirmed your suspicions, and you had been suffering from a stress fracture. He sat in the stiff chair beside your bed, hunched over with his elbows resting on his thighs as you stared blankly at the stark white cast now covering your foot and ankle.

Neither of you were quite sure what to say to one another. Your current state was… delicate, and he wasn’t sure that bringing up the fight would be the best idea for you right now. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he straightened his posture, eyes fluttering over you apprehensively before he cast his line out.

“I don’t know how you do it.” He confessed sincerely, watching as your eyes cast a sidelong glance at him.

“What, manage to fracture my foot during one of the most important performances of my life?”

“How you let yourself feel so much for everyone to see.” His response made you flush, your brows furrowinf as you looked away from him once again.

“I couldn’t really help it, my bone was kind of split—”

“I’m not talking about your damn foot, doll.” Ryomen sighed in exasperation. It was already difficult enough for him to be so sincere in his appreciation, and your making him spell it out was twisting the knife in his already wounded pride. “The show. I… I ain’t ever seen anything like that before. You’re just not fucking scared of yourself.”

Twisting your arms around yourself, you gulped down whatever emotions his words seemed to ignite in you.

“Yeah, well it doesn’t matter now. I screwed it all up.”

“Bullshit, you had everyone hanging off their fucking seats.”

“And they all watched me ruin it with that— that stupid landing.”

Sukuna blinked harshly in disbelief at your self-critictism. With an incredulous laugh, he leaned forward to look you in the eyes.

“You played that shit off like nothing happened. No one noticed.”

“You noticed.”

“Yeah, cause I fucking love you.” It tumbled out his mouth faster than he could have reeled it back in. For the second time that night, he was struck by the gruelling confusion of how the fuck it came so easily to you to pour your heart out, because it felt like he was chewing on glass right now as he awaited your response. Your glassy eyes finally looked up at him, face stained by makeup and disbelief. It all showed so clearly on your face, so bravely and unabashedly. It made him want to stand resolute for something for once in his pathetic life. “I love you.”

Soon, your lip was trembling once again as a fresh stream of tears stung at your already burning eyes. Burying your face into your hands, you shook your head.

“I said such awful things to you, Ryo.” You cried into your palms, the guilt that had been festering over the gruelling week finally coming to fruition without the distraction of your performance to keep your mind from dwelling on it. “Y-You were just trying to help me—”

“Hey, I say mean shit all the time,” He reassured, moving from his chair to squeeze beside you in the bed. “You should’ve beat the shit outta me if we’re really trying to get equal.”

Your back shook, and he knew this time it was finally from your laughter instead of those gut-wrenching sobs that had been frequenting his ears. Desperate to catch a glimpse of your smile after so long of being met with your frown, he gently pried your hands away from your face. Ryo sighed wistfully at the sight of your wobbly grin, reaching up to wipe at the smudged makeup under your eyes.

“You look more like a fucking racoon than a swan right now.” Your teary-eyed gaze didn’t seem to help his lack of brain-to-mouth filter at all, and he smirked at his own pathetically weak restraint. “See? I should’ve gotten my teeth knocked out for that one.”

But, of course, you only smiled at him— that glimmering eyed smile that even after all this time he felt so undeserving of.

“Well, you’re lucky I love you then, huh?”

His heart pounded embarrassingly against his chest, blanketed with the safety of your reciprocity.

“The luckiest bastard I know.” He whispered before pressing a kiss gentler than he was accustomed to against your awaiting lips.

There was a soft knock at the door that had him sighing in frustration against your face, but he pulled away from you nonetheless. When the door cracked open, it wasn’t the doctor as the both of you had been hoping so you could get the hell out of here. Instead, Choso and Yuji both filed in hesitantly as though they weren’t sure what kind of energy they’d be met with. When you smiled brightly at the sight of the various flowers in their arms, the pair felt more at ease as they stepped fully into the room.

“That was the most metal shit I’ve ever seen in my life.” Choso was the first to gush excitedly, setting down both his and Sukuna’s abandoned bouquet in your lap.

“So sick— I can’t believe you just walked that shit off!” Yuji was rushing to the far wall of the room to snatch the marker off the whiteboard containing the nurse’s information on it. He continued to ramble enthusiastically as he sat himself at the foot of your bed to doodle on your cast. Your eyes fluttered between him and his twin, and it was a bit disorienting seeing them side by side for the first time. “You’re a total badass.”

“Oi, easy with her fucking foot, brat.” Ryomen grumbled as he flicked his brother in the forehead, already annoyed at both his brothers for butting into you two’s moment.

It was clear that his bright-eyed counterpart was used to his brash nature as he completely brushed it off, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on his drawing of what you could only assume was supposed to be a swan. It was clear his twin got all the artistic ability while Yuji was left with all the sunshine. As if his drawing triggered his memory, he quickly perked up.

“The casting was crazy too! That girl playing the black swan seriously looked just like you.”

A quiet disbelief fell over the three of you as the boy continued marking up your cast.

“Yuji—”

“Don’t bother,” Ryo quickly stopped you from correcting him with what could only be described as a fierce look of exhaustion on his face. “He’s a little slow— it’ll come to him.”

All the artistry and the brains— got it.

gojo and itafushi crumbs because your girl is starving

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

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luveline · 9 months ago

Note

Hi Jade!! I love your writing so much! you wrote a few fics of postprison!reid with kinda shy!reader like the one where she faints and I loved that dynamic and that Reid, do you think you could write some more? pls pls pls <3333333

cw non-consensual drug use /reader is spiked

Spencer is quite gorgeous. He has a great smile, soft and a little shy without teeth, exuberantly bright like a commercial with teeth. He’s smiling like he can read your mind now, fishing for your hand, and taking it into both of his. Your pinky in one hand and your index the other, he wriggles your hand back and forth and laughs softly. “You don’t handle inebriation well.”

“What?” you ask, startled. You can’t believe he’s touching you like this, casual, like he’s your boyfriend. Your hot boyfriend.

“You think I’m hot?”

You squint at him. “What?” you ask.

He covers your hand gently with both of his. “Nevermind. Do you want something to eat now?”

“No.” You’ll throw up. Chunks, probably, your breakfast. And it wasn’t even a healthy breakfast. It was waffles and whipped cream and then a donut on the way to the office, Spencer will be able to tell, he’s too smart, he’s too everything.

“I’m not that smart,” he says kindly.

That’s a straight up lie.

He laughs heartily, at odds with his quiet talking, and you’re so confused because it’s like he’s reading your mind? Can he read your mind? There’s so much stuff about yourself you don’t want him to know, your chest hurts thinking about it, you don’t want to tell him anything—

“I think I’ll go find you a hot chocolate,” Spencer says, the sleeve of his shirt falling down unbuttoned to his wrist as he stands. He pushes it back up. He is surprisingly underdressed today and you’ve no idea why. “Does that sound nice?”

“I don’t think you should leave.”

“I don’t want you to tell me stuff you don’t want to tell me,” he says.

“But if you leave I’ll be by myself.” You sound strange to your ears. Crackly, like a garden fire.

Spencer perches himself on the hospital bed next to you. You’re sitting cross-cross on the tight white and blue sheets, waiting for something? Something was supposed to happen, you know that. A doctor was going to take your blood. You look down at the crook of your elbow to find they already have, a cotton pad medical-taped to the skin.

“I’m not going anywhere if you don’t want me to go,” he says, taking your arm into his hands with the same care he’d shown your fingers. He lifts the corner of the tape and begins to pull it away from the direction it had been stuck in, stretching it, and removing it from you without any pain.

“Where did you learn that?” you ask.

Spencer holds your arm in his hand now the cotton ball is done. “Learn what?”

You’re not interested in asking him again. Weirdly, your throat feels dry, but you won’t tell him because he’ll offer hot chocolate again and you don’t want him to go.

“Hey,” he says, “not going anywhere until it wears off. Not if you need me.”

How does he always know what to say?

“You know, why don’t you get into bed and lay down for a little bit? You must be tired, sitting up. It’s so late.” His voice is a sheet of silk.

“I thought we were going home?” you ask.

“We can’t, bub,” —that’s a new one— “not for now. But we will tonight, I promise.”

“Why not now?”

He smiles sadly. “‘Cos you’re coming down, Y/N.”

You frown. “Oh.”

“I know.” Spencer wraps and arm around your back. “But you’re not alone.” He ducks in until your faces are almost touching. “You know? It’ll go away soon.”

You don’t know why you say it, but you say, “You’re so nice to me. Even when you’re scary.”

“Am I scary?” he murmurs.

You look at him long and hard, feeling the warm rub of his thumb as he smooths a short line into your back. Spencer is intimidating, maybe, because you hadn’t known him when he got out of prison, and he's pretty like a model, or a movie star. But he isn’t scary. That’s not the right word.

“No,” you say. “I guess not.” You pause. “I feel weird.”

He doesn’t laugh like you, just hugs you tighter. “It’ll get better.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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kiss-me-muchoo · 2 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 || 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬

part one: the fallen fruit || part two: here

summary_after freeing Rome, you’ve lost Marcus Acacius, his baby and you are forced to marry Lucius Verus in order to freely rule as empress and visit Acacius’ grave

warnings_ CRINGE, age gap (legal) (I’m 20, sorry) historical inaccuracy, angst, sexism and misogyny, fluff but angst, a lot of canon divergence bc I said so. ANGST ANGST I CRIED WHILE WRITING THIS

note_ that’s it, it’s official, Paul Mescal my new bf, don’t you ever make me write a fic where I knowledge any Pedro character’s death (even if it’s canon) listen to 13 beaches pls

♪ ♫ Pedro playlist

♫ ♪ Paul playlist

✰ Index (+ fics here)

𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸

Once your eyes opened, reality struck you in the harshest possible way. This time, no one was there to tend your wounds. Although they weren’t severe, they had dozed you off for days. You heard Lucilla’s scream and you closed your eyes, knowing your love was dead.

Numbness assaulted you, nausea struck you and you heard everyone gasping in horror as their beloved general’s body collapsed in the arena.

Hours after Marcus Acacius’ died, you lost his baby as well.

A day later, Rome was freed. Lucius Verus became the new emperor and you caught a fatal fever when the sun came down.

That night, death seemed like the most convenient alternative. You had lost everything you had fought for over the years. The man you loved and the prospective children were taken from you before you could’ve claimed them.

Something changed when you woke up. Like time has passed so rapidly that the pain from the loss of Acacius and your baby has healed. But as soon as you think about the would’ve, could’ve, should’ve… you start sobbing.

It’s a bright morning and the city sounds peaceful. Everyone has moved on. And you know you’ll have to. Only that, you don’t know how.

With your brother’s death, your lover and baby’s, everyone was gone.

Lucius is alive…

There’s a knock on the door and soon it opened.

A man should never intrude into a woman’s chamber he had no relationship with.

“Ah. Princess y/n you’re awake….” He says uncomfortably. You didn’t knew his name, but had been running as a politician for several years.

“I suppose I’m no longer a princess”

“Trials are happening right now, the senate is a disaster but we’re handling it okay. Lucius Verus Aurelius refuses to be crown emperor but he has argued in your favor and you have been found not guilty, but you face conspiracy charges. Consequently, you’re still a princess. And the only person we can rely on according to the law…”

You sigh, looking away from the old man to focus on the tapestry that hangs from a wall. It has a naked woman’s statue in the middle of a garden. A woman being the center of attention.

You were the maximum authority at the moment. But you still had barriers to break.

“What did you do with the corpses of my brothers?” perhaps your siblings weren’t the most lovable people, but you grew up with them. They were your last remaining family.

“Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla rest in the secluded area of the cemetery of Rome. Where the punished are buried…” you nod.

They deserved punishment, but still, an odd sensation in your stomach rested, feeling shame and pity for your brothers.

Where did the good one go? An imaginary little light sparkles upon your eyes.

“And General Acacius?”

“In his Death Will, General Acacius stated that he wanted to be buried alone in one of the islands belonging to Rome” Your eyes water and you have to bite your tongue and gulp to calm your tears.

Where he had wanted to build a home with you.

“His wife Lucilla was buried in the neighbor island upon petition” You nod, trying to sit down. You finally spot the cuts and sewed arm. Fighting Pretorials had been more difficult than participating in the war.

Alongside Marcus…

“I would like to visit his grave. Marcus Acacius’s grave” Your voice sounded broken and you could barely see the man, failing to hide your growing tears.

“There is one problem, princess y/n. Until you’re officially crown empress, you can’t leave Rome and command without being considered charged, despite being not guilty. You must marry first and I’m afraid the only suitor is Lucius Verus Aurelius”

The man that made you feel so much in no time. Who made you feel like you could be for once unconditionally loved. And that maybe Acacius was not your downfall. Maybe you had one more chance to nourish your wounded heart.

You suppress a smile. You want to see him and talk. See if he felt the same way about you and if he did, it would be a new beginning.

“Where is he?” You ask trying to hide your excitement.

“The prince is back in Numidia. He wanted to give a proper burial to his friends and his late wife especially”

The little smile on your face disappears and you look down. Unbeknownst to the man standing in front of you, you felt shame. For believing Lucius would be waiting for you.

“How so?”

“He was given permission to go back with an audience from the council” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“And why he was allowed to go to territory that is not declared Roman by the law yet…. But I can’t go to an island that is less than four hours away, claimed by the empire hundreds of years ago?”

The man gulps, seemingly uncomfortable by your sudden snapping. Your heart beats in anxiety and the anger increases. The first minutes after you awake you already feel the burden of your new present.

“Because he’s an heir…” to that, you can only sigh. Knowing the real answer.

“And I’m a heiress. I’m… a woman”

Rome was free. But as a woman, you probably never would.

“I suggest you rest and prepare for his arrival, princess. You’ll want to be ravishing to negotiate and assume the wedding”

“I haven’t decided if I’ll marry Lucius Verus Aurelius”

“It’s not like you have much of a choice, princess. I’ll send a doctor to check on you” The bitter tone of the man made you frown. You quietly curse him as he leaves the room.

Finally alone again. Like it seemed it would be for the rest of your life.

You should’ve run faster the first time you tried to escape Rome. You should’ve climbed that wall higher, maybe, just maybe none of your disgraces would’ve happened.

You had to go to Marcus’ grave. You had to say goodbye to him. Tell him all the things you couldn’t say the last time. Because he deserved it. To let him know that no matter where your baby and he were, you would always love them.

Lucius meant nothing, you try to lie to yourself.

I won’t be part of a deal, you remember as you look at the renewed Rome.

Suddenly you realize no matter whom you decide to love, you’re always the lover, not the wife.

Always the second option, never the one.

…

Four days later, you realized you had no other choice but to attend the hearing that would determine your future. Where you would face Lucius. If you had seen him once again before he left, many things could’ve been different, you liked to think.

But given the circumstances, you had no desire to see him again. You barely knew the man, of course, he would choose his wife first even when she was dead.

Your mind betrayed you with the idea of Lucius using you just all those nights to find a way to get out of the Colosseum. No matter what, he didn’t visit you, he didn’t bother to see if you were okay. Likely, he never knew you had fallen ill.

Everyone left you behind.

Happened once as a little girl who fell for her best friend, once as a teenager who fell for an older officer who turned General and once as a young woman who fell for a gladiator and turned out to be a missing prince.

With golden brackets that cover your arms and the heaviest earrings, you nervously walked through the long marble halls of the justice building. Near the temple of the god of war, there rested the place where justice was brought.

A guard opened the door for you and once you stepped in, the room was already full.

Every man inside stood up to greet you with a little reverence and you could feel a migraine already coming.

But when your eyes found a blue pair of aquamarine diamonds looking piercingly at you, the anger mixed with nervousness.

Immediately you look away from the prince. As you took a seat at the end of the long table, you could feel him everywhere. As if Lucius was silently begging for you to look at him.

“We reunite here to revoke any charges and penalties addressed to Prince and Princess; Lucius Verus Aurelius and y/n y/l/n”

You barely hear the man speaking, you were only waiting to hear the next part.

“From the power the senate gave us and by the guidance of the gods, said charges and penalties will be revoked by uniting the prince and princess in sacred marriage. Everyone who agrees says accipio…” everyone says the word, and you close your eyes trying to avoid huffing or ending up screaming in disagreement. Your father ascended to the throne rightfully. Every politician voted for him. When he died your brothers were young and naive and remained as so throughout their rule. Your only crime was to conspire against the empire along with Acacius when he was alive.

All a big nonsense.

“Hear hear, now… Do you Lucius Verus Aurelius agree to the terms of conditions of this agreement?” you look up to see the man. He looked different.

His wounds were healing, his hair looked trimmed, his beard styled. Without sweat, blood, and dirt covering his face, he looked gorgeous. Like an actual prince.

Lucius also looks at you. You can’t tell how he feels, but his eyes look hopeful. And his lips are slightly tilted. Was he trying to smile at you?.

“Accipio…” he says, looking away from you.

Your lips sealed shape a full face of anger.

“Do you y/n y/l/n agree to the terms of conditions of these agreements?”

“I would like to resign to my titles”

Gasps could be heard, and a mixture of shock and disapproval was all over the men at the table.

Lucius looks with curiosity at you. But you can see he’s also shocked.

“Princess y/n… you can’t resign” a man says and you roll your eyes.

“Exile me if needed. I can also recommend a handful of women who would be perfect suitors for Lucius Verus Aurelius” As much as you tried to sound calm, you sounded enraged.

“Then I won’t sign the agreement…” Lucius says looking at the same man who spoke first, then at you.

You eye him with confusion, he crosses his strong arms and he intimidates you with his strong gaze.

“I want you or nothing” he admits with tranquility. Which makes you even angrier. But also make your cheeks turn hot after feeling every man in the room exchange awkward looks.

How could he act so cooky and shameless?

Before you can say another thing, you are interrupted.

“If none of you agree, your charges and penalties will prevail. That would lead to several trials, where both of you could end up with death penalties despite being two rightful heirs”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh.

You’re so tired, drained from everything.

But you won’t give any man the satisfaction to see you crumbling.

Never again…

“You may constrain me all you want, Lucius Verus Aurelius. But you won’t hear what you want from me today”

The poison filling your voice intoxicated everyone, leaving the room flooding with awkwardness and uncertainty. Lucius and you share looks. There’s an odd warmth that makes you remember how good he was when you first met him. He is not a bad man. But you fell in love with him and overrated him so early.

With the silence reigning, the sound of your chair sliding as you stood up drew all the attention to you again. But you didn’t face anyone, you simply left.

The air hit you and you could already feel the tears threatening to spill.

It’s a shame because it seemed like it was a good day for Rome. You can hear kids playing nearby, and people selling goods while the clear sky warmed the afternoon.

“You really don’t know why I want you, y/n?” You hear behind your back, Lucius approaching with heavy steps, making you wipe your eyes before you turn around to see him.

“I would say to gain power. But I know you don’t want that so no… I’m clueless. All I know is I won’t be part of a deal when all my life I’ve lounged for love”

“I can’t believe you don’t remember…” he responds and you frown, disappointed that he has ignored your words. So rudely, you move away, farther from him.

“Who was there when you fell ill after breaking your bones?” your eyes almost pop out, you stop walking only to slowly turn around again and eye him in shock.

“Who was there when you used to escape the palace and needed someone to accompany you back?” Lucius pleads with every word he lets out, he walks towards you and tries to grab your hands but you slip away from his touch, defying him.

In your shock, you can only sigh as memories start reminiscing in your head. A childhood love that couldn’t be. Which involved some feelings you thought had no meaning. But sure they had. More than you wanted to admit as an adult.

Lucius Aurelius Verus was that little boy that you fell in love with as a child. That little boy disappeared without saying goodbye. A boy you thought you’d never see again.

“I left you and resented it all my life, y/n. Now I can be here for you again. Allow me to retrieve the memories we had…” This time you weren’t fast enough to prevent his touch.

He feels warm and at home. His fingers are calloused and his raspy fingertips slowly caress your knuckles. You want to hold him in your arms and cry from happiness. You want to curse him for making you believe he was dead.

But you are selfish after so much pain.

“Why you didn’t say anything when we met again?” You coldly ask, freezing the warmth he has built.

“I needed to know I could trust you first,” he says apologetically.

There’s so much to talk about. Never in your dreams, you thought you’d have the boy you loved once now turned into a man you must marry.

“Please, y/n. We’ll meet each other again, fill the empty promises we made years ago”

“You knew I was alive all this time. Why did you never come for me? We could have escaped. If I had known you were alive, a lot of my suffering could’ve been prevented” he looks away, he feels guilty.

“You married, Lucius. You were happy before Rome conquered Numidia. And I won’t diminish the death of her. But you moved on… like I never existed”

He grabs both of your hands but you move away.

“I thought you were safe. I had no chance of getting you back, that’s why I married. But when I saw you again at the celebration where I had my first fight…” even when he sounds convincingly remorseful, you still keep the distance.

“I don’t care, Lucius. The only thing I want now is to say goodbye to the only love that mattered while you were gone. I can’t visit his grave now for the charges, and when I marry you, I won’t be able to visit his grave because of it. Don’t act like you are not wanting me as your second choice”

If only you knew, Lucius thought as he watched you leave.

…

As a kid, your father would be delighted whenever you danced in the celebrations he hosted. Your brother Geta and Caracalla would sneak in and try to ruin your performance, they weren’t allowed to attend the parties because of their mother; a whore. Your father’s ginger hair had not spread across the twins’ heads and they certainly not looked anything like your mother. There was a snake hidden in the basket of flowers you carried while dancing. But a gentleman realized earlier and as soon as you dropped it because of the bite, he took you to the doctor. And that night you developed a little crush for the officer Marcus Acacius.

Soon you forgot about the older man when you took food and made your way out of the palace. Near the stables, you had found a safe place. Where you always met with who refused to tell you his name.

So you always called him amicus. You could only refer to him as a friend.

“Amicus…” you called him.

Soon he appeared, with burnt blonde hair, blue eyes, and his kind smile.

“What happened to your hand?” he asked pointing at your bandaged extremity.

“Geta and Caracalla placed a snake on my flower basket”

Your friend huffed, clearly annoyed that they tried to hurt you again.

“I wish I could be there, I would always protect you”

You smiled, caressing his face. You were no stranger to his proximity. At the rough age of nine years old, you two had grown a big friendship.

“But you’re always here for me, amicus”

“I won’t be always…” you frowned confused.

That was the last night you saw your friend; Lucius.

You shake your head, pushing aside the memories. Realizing you are once again in a party, but your father is gone. Nobody sits on the throne, your twin brothers are not around to try to banish you. There is no Acacius to help you and you are no longer a kid.

You wonder why Lucilla never told you his son was alive. That he was your best friend. You understand that probably she didn’t trust you enough, given that you looked like you were on your brother’s side most of the time. Although the reality was very different.

Lucius arrived at the celebration with many people trying to talk to him. His tone was kind, but he felt overwhelmed responding to the variety of questions thrown at his face.

Having all the attention resulted in frustration. He was no god and Rome started seeing him as such thing.

He was a humble man, despite growing up knowing he was a prince, he was accustomed to the peaceful farming life in Numidia. He married and thought he would die as a farmer. But even when he finished a rough day of tending his sprouts and counting seeds, mostly he would go to sleep thinking about you.

Lucius never forgot the little girl he found pacing through the secret passages under Rome. Surely he always knew you were a princess, you were alive and well within the walls of the city he grew to hate.

He thought he was correct in never telling you who he really was. He had no chance to say goodbye, he was forced to leave. For a lot of years, he thought he would never be able to fall in love again, but he found a new love.

As soon as he married, he tried to forget about you. And as much as he loved his wife, he always went back to you. Wondering if you were also married, if you remained as beautiful as you were as a kid, or if you missed him like he missed you.

His answers were given to him when he saw you eating figs and softly arguing with one of your red-haired brothers.

Lucius swore his heart stopped a few seconds before he had to fight under the demand of Macrinus. When he recited poetry, he understood you didn’t know who he was. He locked eyes with you for too long, which made you frown and exchange confused looks with Geta.

But he did a good job because you went to visit him later, realizing you knew only half of the truth.

Lucius never stopped loving you.

He watched you twirl around in a purple dress and he couldn’t help but smile. His need to know who you had transformed into was eating him. The curiosity over your love affair with Acacius and how you ended up on the battlefront of war killing him. And he wished nothing buy you to understand that destiny wanted you to be separated but now there was a chance to heal together and be together.

Although it seemed like you were beyond hurt. Only makes Lucius feel guilty for some reason.

A man from the senate reveals to the party you and Lucius are officially engaged and he knows you must be boiling in anger. Lucius tries to go and talk to you. Assure you that he wasn’t involved in the early announcement. He wanted your consent and forcing you would never fix your anger and resentment.

But when he tried to reach you, you were gone. And he knew to where.

To visit Acacius’ grave.

…

With white roses and a dirty cloak, you arrive at the island. Is smaller than you thought. It’s just a hill.

No gold, no ostentatious mausoleum, just a little mark in the middle of the hill that over the centuries would be swallowed by the Earth. There rests Marcus Acacius.

You swallow hard, hoping to get there before your legs betray you and you end up on the grass crying. After hearing the announcement of the engagement, you sprinted out of there making a mess of fury. Your desire to say goodbye to your love would never become a reality. So you took matters into your own hands and risked three hours of absence in Rome.

Each step adds a little more pain to your chest and you want to leave as fast as possible.

But you remain silent, looking at the little plaque.

Not even beloved General of Rome. Just his name.

“I don’t regret saying that I hated you the last time we talked…” you start, biting your cheek from the inside and frowning, competing against the tears that were already coming.

“I closed my eyes so hard to pretend I wasn’t witnessing your death” The chilly air makes you shriek, it also makes some scary sounds as you talk.

“We had a baby, Acacius. I suppose conceived in Athens. He left me hours after you did. I guess he sensed my bad luck…” you coldly say, attempting to joke with the silence.

“Not of importance anymore. I just came to say goodbye. To thank you for training me, and for making me a strong woman. Thank you for loving me the wrong way…”

“You can rest now, Marcus. Your death was worth it, Rome is free. But I’m not…” Finally, your voice breaks and you start sobbing, weeping, and crying so loudly that your lungs hurt.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be strong enough to come back again, Acacius. Your death will always be the loss of my life but our baby is my little hope. To always remind me that I was very close to having you…” with your legs trembling, you stand up and grab the basket. The flowers are gently placed and your tears fall over his name, washing the accumulated dirt.

“I’ll move on. Because I know that’s what you would’ve wanted. I’ll keep your memory alive. And I’ll never love the same way I did with you. You earned it, Marcus. In life and death…”

Dried from all the tears, suddenly you felt less weight on your shoulders. You feel light and in peace.

In that hill would rest the memories of your past, of the love you gave to that General and what could’ve been.

You leave in silence. And when you step foot in the boat again, you have the strength to smile and realize that you don’t care about anything anymore.

The sense of everything comes into question.

Nothing can hurt you anymore.

…

He’s there when you step a foot into the salty shores of Rome. Lucius looks worried. He gives confident steps until he’s facing you.

“You went to that island. Didn’t you?” He asks judging you, which makes you frown.

“I did…”

“Why are you risking yourself? I had to tell everyone you felt ill” You roll your eyes, not handling his words with patience.

“I have nothing to lose, Lucius. I don’t care anymore if I die right now…” he huffs and slides his fingers through his blonde hair, exasperated.

“Why can you understand you’re the one I want? I want you to be safe. But you can’t stop acting like there is no hope left. Why?”

You finally explode.

“BECAUSE I’M HURT!. You know my brothers never loved me, I thought I had you and you disappeared. I spent years in love with Acacius and when he finally looked down at me, he never chose me above your mother. But he wanted to give me a house, a family. I lost him and that night I lost our baby too, I didn’t even know I was with child. And now everyone’s gone, you’re back but I feel like you are just choosing me because you have no choice” Your lungs so tired of your crying make you ache as you end up sobbing once again.

Lucius immediately places his arms around you. And it’s the first hug someone gives you in a long time. So you sob harder and slide your arms to hold him closer.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry” he whispers in your ear, one of his hands caressing the back of your head, fingers sliding through your hair.

“You’re not my second option. You were always the first. I choose you all or nothing because I couldn’t before. And now that I have you in my arms, I’m never letting you go”

Lucius feels like the home you never experienced but always dreamed of. His words start soothing you. His words feel bigger, like an oath this time. A healed promise of the one he made as a kid.

“When I looked at you again, I remembered that little girl I used to play with. With her dazzling hair and loving eyes” you look away, to the shore. You never liked receiving compliments.

“Look at me…” his fingers grab your chin and gently, he makes you look at him but you close your eyes after briefly meeting his eyes.

Just like the first time, you get lost in his blue irises. Blue like the sea you traveled, like the sea you once thought would be your way to freedom.

“Please look at me, y/n,” he says pleading, with his warm touch you know you won’t be able to oppose any longer.

Slowly you open your eyes and finally accept his gaze.

“You loved another man and I loved another woman. But we had already marked each other’s hearts before we met them”

Slowly, you nod. He smiles and wipes the tears from your eyes. He looks so gorgeous. You know he means every word. Only a man who did everything to save his mother and free a city would make such a big promise to a woman and beg.

You caress his strong jawline, ignoring the way his beard tickles at your fingers. You smile back at him.

“I love you”

Before he could finish, you kissed him.

…

You hadn’t thought back on your love Acacius in months, but that morning you dedicated the bright sky to him. You hope he’s happy for you.

You look at yourself in a mirror and smile at your reflection.

“Are you ready?” Lucius asked entering the room. Your smile grows at the sight of him dressed in gold and a crown in his head. He also eyes your dress and you blush at the way he is mentally undressing you.

Your husband is possessive, kind, brave, and an emperor.

“Stop staring like that…” he looks back at your eyes and it makes you chuckle.

“Come here…” he pleads and when you try to kiss him you both hear a tiny yelp.

“Oh Lucilla, I’m just trying to kiss your father…”

You had birthed a daughter two months ago in Egypt. And was named after Lucius’ mother. She had matted hair the same color as you and she had the blue eyes of his father.

“I’ll get her…” Lucius carried her and leaned to let you look at yourself tiny baby yawning, as she had woken up from a little nap. Her tiny hands flirt fists and her face scrunched in slumber.

She was a winter baby and every citizen of Rome was waiting to meet the daughter of the emperor and empress.

“So fussy like her father…” you claimed, making Lucius roll his eyes at you.

He had grown patient. A perfect partner and father. You felt lucky and blessed to have him. Thinking all the pain was worth it. Your head would now and then think back on what could’ve been if Acacius had survived, and his baby as well.

But you accepted that in this life, he wasn’t meant to be yours. So you prayed to meet him again in the next one. But for now, you were in the arms of your first love.

“I love you, Lucius…” he seemed lightly surprised, as he was the one that says it more often. But he knows he looks so clumsy and in love.

“Not more than me…” you kiss your daughter’s cheek and then your husband, making him softly gasp as you deepen the kiss.

“Don’t do this to me now, y/n…” you giggle, taking the baby from his arms and leading the way towards the door.

“Wait, satis… I know it’s nonsensical to ask at this point but…Do you think I’m being good at this?” Lucius asks pointing at little Lucilla, you sigh, walking back towards him.

“My love, there is no way of being good at this. But if she knows that we love her and that we’ll be here for her forever, is enough…”

He had his doubts a couple of months after the wedding when you got pregnant.

“You don’t know how proud and thankful I am of you. You decided to agree and give me a family after so much pain, satis” You form a smile grin, opting to avoid the memories of your old love. Because that was the past, sacred to you but still the past.

“We deserved it, Lucius.” He nods, taking your free hand.

“I have the feeling that this one will be a boy…” you say pointing at your still-flat stomach.

“Whatever it is… as long as you’re the mother, it’ll be okay”

You both exit the room hand in hand, hearing the excited crowd outside waiting.

_________________

PAUL X PEDRO X READER FIC IS COMING, COMMENT TO BE TAGGED :)

I won’t ever ever ever write a fanfic where a Pedro character dies again. NEVER AGAIN! I don’t care if you think this was cringe, I cried a lot while writing on different days. I love Lucius but in my head Acacius never died, so from now on if I write for him, he WON’T DIE.

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius #lucius verus x reader #lucius verus #paul mescal x reader #paul mescal #gladiator x reader #marcus acacius x lucius verus #lucius verus x reader x marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader x lucius verus #marcus acacius x lucius verus x reader

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moonstruckme · 3 months ago

Note

Hi lovie a lil request if u pls! I would love to see Sirius (but could also be down with one of the other boys if ur not feeling him) with a gf who has a migraine and just him doting on her

alternatively could also do it's like early in the relationship and she tries to hide it from him?

Thanks for requesting!

cw: modern au, migraine

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 997 words

You decide to text Sirius rather than braving the lights and sounds of the living room. You keep your phone brightness on low, clicking your screen off as soon as it’s sent.

Do you have any painkillers I could use?

You feel guilty for commandeering Sirius’ bedroom like this. You’re supposed to be cooking dinner together, but when you came home with the groceries you’d asked meekly if he’d mind if you napped for a while. He offered to make it himself so it’ll be ready when you get up. You sort of dread when that will be. You know you’d feel better back at your own place, but you don’t trust yourself to drive like this, with pain taking all your concentration and spots and lines flashing across your vision, so instead you’re spoiling the evening you and Sirius had planned together. Now you’re asking him to wait on you, too.

Sirius doesn’t respond to your text, but you hear him moving. The soft thump of footsteps coming down the hall and the quiet sshk of a drawer coming open.

“Just a nap, huh?” he murmurs as he comes into the bedroom. He sits by your knees on the bed, shaking a couple of pills into his hand. “Does something hurt, lovely?”

“Yeah,” you manage a hoarse whisper as he passes you the pills and the glass of water he’s brought you. “Sorry. My head.”

“I thought something might be wrong,” he admits, keeping his voice low. “You got awfully quiet earlier. Why didn’t you say?”

You set the glass on his nightstand after downing the pills. Cover your eyes with the hand cool with condensation. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to ruin our night.”

Sirius tuts softly. “Don’t worry about that.” His hand finds your forehead, first feeling for a fever and then brushing a few pieces of hair back from your eyes, but he stops when your face tightens. “It’s quite bad?”

You make a low humming sound. “It’s a migraine. I get them, sometimes.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Sirius takes his hand away from you, though by the pain in his voice it costs him to do it. “I’m sorry. What can I do?”

“I just need to lie with it for a bit. Hopefully it’ll calm down. I have things to help at home, but I don’t think I can make it there right now.”

“What sort of things?”

You tell him, admittedly somewhat short in your speech. Sirius doesn’t seem to mind. He leaves you to rest afterwards, and you hardly hear him again until nearly an hour later. You think dinner has to have long since been ready, but when Sirius comes back into his bedroom it’s not with food.

You watch through slitted eyes as he creeps into the corner, plugging in a machine that starts billowing steam up into the room. He fiddles with it for a moment, and soon you’re aware of a familiar scent upon the air, floral and relaxing.

“Did you get that from my place?”

Sirius jumps, pressing a hand to his chest as he turns around. “Fuck, babe, I thought you were sleeping. No, I didn’t want to ask you to give me your key.”

You look at the essential oil diffuser. “Huh. Looks just like mine.”

“Well, good. Hopefully it’ll work just as well, then.” Sirius stands, typing something into his phone. “Do you think those binaural beats things will help right now, or will they keep you from falling asleep?”

“M’not falling asleep anyway,” you mumble half bitterly, but your boyfriend only nods. He connects his phone to a small speaker and sets it by the bed. “Tell me you didn’t go buy a diffuser?”

Sirius looks at you, raising an eyebrow as a low, soothing thrum starts to emanate from the speaker on the nightstand. “Not sure what you want me to say then. Would you have rather I broke into your place to get one?”

“Sirius.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “You didn’t have to. That’s so sweet.”

“Oh.” He brightens. “Good then. There’s a weighted mask in the freezer, too, by the way. Thought I’d give it a minute to chill first.”

You’re starting to feel slightly teary, which isn’t really what you want during a migraine. “That’s really kind of you.”

“Don’t mention it. Couldn’t have the world's loveliest girl suffering here in my own home, could I?” He smiles softly, looking like he’s going to reach for your face again before he stops himself.

“You can touch me,” you say quietly.

Sirius’ brows twitch together. “Yeah? Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I feel a bit better than before.”

“Could I kiss you as well?”

You can’t stop your lips from curving, just a little. “Yeah.”

Sirius smiles, too, pressing his lips gently to yours. He doesn’t stop there. “Better than before doesn’t seem quite well enough,” he murmurs as his affections grace your cheek, your closed eyelid, the space between your brows, “but we’ll get you there soon, I think. Remus sometimes has migraines, too. I called him and he said a massage might help, if it suits you. Just while your mask is getting cold.”

“Yeah?” you ask on a breath. “I’ve never tried that.”

“Do you wanna?”

You nod, and he gets you to roll onto your front, thumbs finding the tight muscles of your neck. It’s not a skillful massage, but Sirius is a quick learner, and soon you find the tension from your face to your shoulders relaxing from his ministrations. The air smells of lavender, the room pulses with a low, resounding hum, and Sirius’ touch bleeds affection into your skin.

“Thank you for doing this,” you mumble, words slurred with relaxation.

“Don’t know what you’re thanking me for,” he hums back. “I told you, I have the world’s loveliest girl right here in my own home. Great power comes with great responsibility and all that, right?”

You’re too enamored to even scoff.

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 4 months ago

Text

60 Seconds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.1k

Warnings: heavy angst, rape (explicit), being bound and gagged and blindfolded, kidnapping, heavy trauma

Request by anon: Would you write something with Spencer x reader (s7 ish doesn't really matter) where you're taken or kidnapped and when they find you, you keep yelling like 'no, no, don't hurt me' and shit like that cuz you don't realize it's them, and Spencer rushes to you and holds you but you're like trashing and hitting his chest until you break down in sobs pls that would be the cutest help. Also love me some team reactions to it happening skskdks OKAY BYE

Summary: One minute can change everything. A lot can happen in sixty seconds, and your entire world is turned upside down when you’re taken off the street in broad daylight. Spencer and the team fight to save you while you’re fighting to stay alive.

Square Filled: laid on a stretcher for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Everything can change in one minute.

That’s sixty seconds.

You pass by the bank you and Spencer have a joint account with. Three seconds. You see a woman and her child playing with bubbles across the street at the park. One second. You wait for the crosswalk light to turn green. Twenty seconds. You cross the street with a group of people. Ten seconds. You stop at a flower stand and buy two roses, one for Spencer and one for you. Twenty seconds. You turn the corner onto a desolate part of the sidewalk. Two seconds.

A van pulls up next to you and two men reach out and grab you. Six seconds.

One minute.

You’ve heard of stories where people are taken in plain sight and in daylight, but you never think it’ll happen to you. You’ve heard stories of victims being tortured, raped, and abused, but you never think it’ll happen to you. You’ve heard stories about victims needing a lifetime of therapy knowing it won’t fix them, but you never think it’ll happen to you.

Until it does.

Spencer moves about the office with you on his mind, excited to go on a lunch date with you. You’re not part of the BAU but you try to visit as much as you can. You have your own art business that you sell out of your apartment. You like to paint, make vases, and occasionally sew. Business has been booming for the last year so you’re not worried about not finding a “real” job any time soon.

Lunch time comes but you don’t show up, and Spencer thinks you might have gotten lost in a project. That tends to happen a lot, so he calls you to see if you’re going to be free any time soon. You don’t answer.

“Reid, JJ got something for us.”

Spencer puts his phone away and will call you later when he has a minute. Just like that, you’re pushed to the back of his mind. He has victims to save and bad guys to put away.

He just doesn’t realize that the victim this time is you.

The two men who took you were only the delivery boys. The men who have you are much worse. Spencer must be on a case if he hasn’t tried to contact you. Maybe he has. You’re not sure. You’re also not sure how many hours have passed or if it’s the next day. Time stops when all you can think about is pain.

They put a blindfold on you as soon as they stole you from the street so you’re not sure where you are in the world or what the room even looks like. All you know is that it stinks in here like dirt, sweat, and blood.

You’re hanging from the middle of the room by your wrists, your toes barely touching the ground. You’ve been suspended like this for so long that you’ve lost all feeling in your hands due to the rope biting into your wrists and cutting off circulation. If you’re lucky, they’ll fall off.

You’re stripped bare to just your panties. Those men love easy access where they can get it. Cuts adorn your once smooth skin and dried blood cake down your body. If you don’t give them what they want, they get violent. You’re surprised you’re not dead right now. They’ve beaten, raped, and abused your body multiple times in a single day.

You just hope that wherever you are, Spencer comes soon. You’re not sure how much of this you can take.

Spencer comes home after a grueling seven days in the field. All he wants to do is take a hot shower and snuggle in bed with you.

“Y/N? You home?” Spencer turns on the light but you’re not there to greet him like you normally are. “Y/N?”

He walks to the bedroom thinking you’re sleeping but frowns when he sees the bed is perfectly made as if no one has used it in a while. He checks the guest room but you’re not in there either. He takes out his phone and calls you but it goes straight to voicemail. He checks the Life 360 app only to see your phone is located in some ditch on the side of the road.

Now he starts to panic.

“Can’t get enough of this team? You just saw us for a week straight,” JJ jokes when she answers his call.

“Is Y/N with you?”

“No.”

“Have you seen her or talked to her all week?”

“No. What’s going on?”

“I think she’s missing,” he panics.

“Who, calm down, Spencer. Why do you think she’s missing?”

“She’s not home, she hasn’t been answering all week, her phone goes straight to voicemail, and I can see her location is in a ditch somewhere off the side of the road. You don’t think…”

“I don’t think what?”

“Do you think she was taken by the Daylight Killer?”

The Daylight Killer has been on the BAU’s radar for quite some time now. They take innocent women off the street in broad daylight only to return them back to their families after weeks. During those weeks, these women endure harsh psychological and physical torture. The BAU hasn’t been able to capture this man because they don’t think he’s working alone. If anything, it’s an organization that keeps him hidden from the authorities.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, Spence.”

“JJ, she always answers her phone. Her biggest fear is me not picking up mine because of our job.”

“I’ll get the team together.”

Spencer immediately heads back to work and meets the team in the briefing room. They already have the victims of the Daylight Killer posted on the bulletin boards despite not having concrete evidence that you’ve been taken by him.

“What do we know?”

“I have already looked at the security cameras around your apartment, this building, and everything in between.” Penelope puts pictures of you on the screen for all to see. “She was last seen walking down Main Street when she stopped at a flower vendor on the corner of Main Street and Dobson Road. She turns the corner and continues to walk toward the BAU.” Penelope puts up three more pictures, one of you walking, another with a car parked right next to you, and the other with you gone. “This car stops next to her and she isn’t seen on any other cameras.”

“Did you get a plate?” Derek asks.

“Only a partial, but the system hasn’t come up with anything yet. You’ll be the first to know.”

“What if it is him? Do you know what he does to his victims?” Spencer asks with tears in his eyes.

“We need to speak to the survivors and see if they can remember their time with him.”

“You want to put them through that pain again?” Emily asks.

“What other choice do we have?” Rossi asks.

It’s safe to say that the victims of the Daylight Killer were less than thrilled to have to relive their experiences. Some of them are still in the hospital recovering from their injuries while others are locked away in their houses too afraid to go outside. There are only two girls who are brave enough to come forward. Confident that if they help the BAU, the men will get caught.

“If you need to stop at any time, please let us know,” JJ says gently.

“Okay,” Stacy, one of the victims, whispers.

“Close your eyes and focus on the sound of my voice.” Stacy does, and she wrings her fingers together nervously. “When you were taken, do you remember what you could feel?”

“You mean besides their hands on me?”

“I can only imagine this is hard for you but don’t focus on them.” Stacy nods and tries to relax. “Focus on the car ride. Was it bumpy? Smooth?”

“Smooth but then it became bumpy like they were driving on rocks or a dirt road.”

“How long were you on that road for?”

“It seemed like hours but probably ten minutes.”

“Then what?”

“They parked and took me out of the car. I was still blindfolded.”

“What was underneath your feet? Rocks? Dirt? Concrete?”

“Sticks. Dirt.”

“So, you were in the woods. What did you smell?”

“Dirt. Nature. It was musty.”

“What did you hear?”

“Insects. However, they stopped once we started walking.”

Spencer leaves the room after hearing enough from Stacy. So, they are keeping their victims in the woods. What woods, is the question.

The best part about you is Spencer. He brings out the best in you and pushes you to do your best in everything you do, especially with your art business. He never goes a day without telling you he loves you, and he shows it with the little things he does. He leaves out little notes for you on the kitchen counter before work, he buys you cookies and other sweets before he comes home, and he gets you flowers every single week.

Even in bed, he’s super loving. Sure, he’s been rough with you a few times but your favorite is how gentle he can be. He can spend hours in bed just worshiping you before giving you his sock. He fits so well inside of you like he was made for you. Even now, you can picture him bending you over and sliding his cock into your pussy. He touches your skin as if he’s mapping every inch of your body. He rarely leaves behind any marks because it reminds him that he can hurt you. He’s seen too much in the field to leave marks on you.

You’re pulled from your dream with Spencer when one of the men slaps your ass hard. His dick feels nothing like Spencer’s. He doesn’t care if he stretches you too much or if he doesn’t fit. He’s still slamming into you from behind and chasing his release. Your entire body aches from the pain but you refuse to give him and the other men the one thing they crave.

You refuse to cry.

You slip back into your dream and replace the man raping you with Spencer who loves you.

“According to the camera’s timestamp, she’s been missing for a week. Do you know what these men do to these women? What are they doing to her right now?” Spencer panics.

“I know it’s hard but you can’t think like that. We’re doing everything we can to try and find her. Right now, we have two women who remember being in the woods which means this unsub or unsubs need privacy. They can’t risk anyone finding them so they have to be isolated. That narrows down a lot of places,” Hotch says.

“They can’t be far either because Virginia PD is always on the scene whenever they release these women. They have to have a place close enough to where they can grab someone and release another in the span of hours.”

“Garcia, anything?”

Penelope pulls up a map of the area and circles the places where it’s likely the unsubs are located. All are in densely forested areas with nothing around them for miles.

“Based on the survivors’ accounts of being in the woods and the fact that they both said they weren't in the car for long once they got onto the dirt road, I estimate that the unsubs are located in one of five places. Every single victim has been released at a gas station before walking into town where there is reception.”

“That’s too many to go to. They could see us coming and leave. How are we going to narrow down this list?”

JJ comes marching into the room with a look of determination and worry on her face.

“We got another woman missing. Melissa Summers was out jogging when she was taken. This time, there were witnesses. They witnessed a ‘dirty white van’ and ‘two men grabbing Melissa off the streets’. They saw a partial plate which matches the one who took Y/N.”

Spencer goes rigid at the news because there are two reasons why they took someone early. They normally keep their victims for two or three weeks before releasing them and grabbing someone new. You’ve been gone for just over a week. Either they changed their minds and let you go early or you’re dead.

Spencer doesn’t have to say anything for everyone to know what he’s thinking.

“Reid, don’t go there,” Derek warns.

“Too late.”

Spencer leaves the room just before he bursts into tears. He can handle being by your side while you heal from their abuse but he can’t handle the thought of you being dead.

You wish that was the case. You wish they had killed you. After a week and a half of abusing your body for their pleasure, they leave you to rot on a dirty mattress with your hands tied behind you, duct tape over your mouth, and a blindfold over your eyes. The door opens but you don’t have enough energy to react. You’ve been saving your energy for when it matters the most.

“What should we do with her?”

They must have another girl if they’re already talking about disposing of you.

“We should just kill her, boss,” another man says. “She doesn’t make it fun. She doesn’t cry or beg like the others.”

“We should just leave her here and move on. She hasn’t seen our faces. She doesn’t look like she’ll talk.”

“Enough. Both of you. I’ll decide what to do with her when I’m done with her.”

The door closes and you’re back to lying in the darkness.

“Okay, so according to her parents, Melissa goes on a run on the same route every night. It’s on Mason Trail located next to a gas station. It’s one of the ones Penelope circled,” JJ says.

“We should go check it out,” Spencer suggests. “What harm will it do? The best case is we find the men responsible. Worst case is she’s not there and we try again. We have to do something.”

“I’m with Reid on this one,” Derek says.

“If we’re wrong and she’s not there, it could ruin everything,” Rossi says.

“You’re both right,” Hotch says. “Let’s go.”

The team, as quietly as they can, make their way to the house deep in the woods located near Mason Trail. It’s not quite night but Hotch keeps the headlights off to prevent anyone from seeing the sleek black cars. Virginia PD is right behind them because, despite the concern about this not being the location, Spencer has a feeling it is.

They park several hundred yards away from the house and finish the rest of the way on foot. If this is the house and someone is home, they won’t take kindly to Derek announcing that the FBI is at their door. Instead, he kicks down the door and just barges in.

There are four men sitting around the table playing poker who all jump up from shock. They reach for their guns but the FBI is quicker. Derek, Rossi, Hotch, and Emily take down the four men while the police search the house to clear the other rooms.

“Where is she?” Spencer asks once they are all in handcuffs.

“Dead.”

“There’s a door to the basement,” one of the officers announces.

Spencer refuses to believe you’re dead. Hotch leaves the unsubs in the care of Virginia PD and follows Spencer down to the basement. Light floods the room and Spencer pauses when he sees Melissa strung up wearing nothing but her panties, and you lying on a dirty mattress in the corner.

Emily and JJ immediately go to Melissa to help her down, and she starts to cry when she realizes she is being saved.

“You’re okay now. They’re not going to hurt you anymore,” JJ soothes.

Spencer runs over to you and unties the rope that binds your wrists. The second you’re free, you find the burst of energy you’ve been saving. You swing at the person who is above you thinking it’s one of the men.

Spencer grabs your wrists and tries to stabilize you but you’re thrashing too much for him to control. Derek comes over and helps Spencer hold you down, and Spencer removes the duct tape from your mouth.

“Y/N--”

“No, let me go!” you beg.

“You got her?”

“Yeah, I got her.”

Spencer lets go of you and Derek has to use his whole body to hold you still even though you’re still trying to get away. Spencer removes your blindfold and you blink rapidly to counteract the brightness of the dim lights. For someone who has had a blindfold on the entire time you’ve been here, the dim lighting it very bright to you. You look around and lock eyes with Derek who is the one who is holding you. You notice JJ and Emily caring for Melissa, and Spencer comes into view in front of you.

Almost immediately, you begin sobbing. You’re free. You’re safe now. You’re not going to hurt anymore. Every single tear you have been holding back is now coming out and there is nothing anyone can do to stop it. Derek lets you go knowing you’re not going to start swinging which allows Spencer to pull you into his arms.

“I’m so sorry, darling. You’re safe now. You’re okay now.”

You bury your face in Spencer’s chest and sob and wail as loud as you can. Spencer can’t stop his tears from falling, and he looks at the rest of the team. JJ and Emily are in tears, Derek is clenching his jaw tightly, Hotch has a stoic look on his face but is breaking down inside, and Rossi has to look away before he cries.

“We need a medic,” Hotch says into his mic.

By the time the ambulance arrives, your sobs have died down to quiet cries. The men are all arrested and put into separate cop cars, and you’re laid onto a stretcher. Melissa is taken to the hospital in another ambulance, and you’re put into the back of the first one.

“Spencer,” you whimper.

“I’m right here.” He climbs into the back and sits next to you. He grabs your hand and runs his thumb across the back of your hand. “I’m right here. You’re safe now.”

“Please don’t leave me,” you cry.

“I’m not. I’m right here. You’re not alone. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

The entire ride to the hospital is you crying over your innocence being destroyed and Spencer trying not to cry.

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dollfacefantasy · 1 year ago

Text

Can't Help It

pairing: dbf!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: your dad's coworker needs a housesitter, but the house isn't the only thing you'll be sitting on (haha pls laugh)

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, masturbation, oral (m receiving), age gap (i imagine early 20s/late 30s), both reader and leon are kinda pervy but not in a skeevy way <3

word count: 5.3k

a/n: hi hi i am back! this was such a pain to write for no reason, but as always, i hope people enjoy. i'm not sure what trope this really falls under, it's probably more accurate to say dcw (dad's coworker), but we'll go with dbf for convenience. i might make a part 2 of this idk. also, i know the header images are really giving graphic design is my passion but... it is what is lol. as before, thank you for all the support on my last fics. if you reblogged or commented, i'm giving you a smooch rn. and just wanna say that i do take requests. if anyone is interested, don't be shy ;) any who, feedback, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! <3

When your dad’s new coworker asked if you’d be interested in housesitting for some easy money, you couldn’t find a reason to say no. Agent Kennedy, like your father, traveled for work a lot. Often gone for weeks at a time, he needed someone to watch the place and take care of menial tasks like getting the mail and watering the plants. It paid well and all you had to do was basically live in his house.

You had met him several times in passing before he offered you this job, and he was always nice to you. He would say hi when you’d come down for a snack while he talked to your dad in the living room. He’d ask how college was and about the different classes you were taking. One time he even told you about some old band he liked that he thought you would too. And that was all great.

But what was even better was that he was fine as fuck.

You had a fat crush on him from the moment you were introduced. The way his eyes pierced right through you but in the softest way. How his lips curled into a knowing smile while his hand gripped yours in a firm shake. The way he said “pretty name for a pretty girl” when you told him your name. From any other middle-aged man, that would have been so corny and had you internally shriveling up. But from him… you had to fight the urge to get on your knees then and there.

He’d approached you about watching his house, saying something about how there had been some nearby break-ins in empty houses and it would be a good way for you to get some spending money and blah blah blah. You were on board as soon as the opportunity to have more of him in your life presented itself.

Unfortunately, it was the nature of housesitting that you rarely saw your employer. You would see him when you showed up and when he came home and that was it. But those moments were enough to sustain your delusion.

The first time you came over, you walked into the house, glancing around the den of the man who enraptured you. It was pretty basic, but you figured that not being home a lot would be the reason for that. When you were done trying to psychoanalyze him from looking around his house, he gave you your own set of keys with a wink that had you blushing an embarrassing amount.

“Thank you, Mr. Kennedy,” you said softly.

“Call me Leon, Sweetheart,” he replied.

You had to look away to conceal your giddy smile. You didn’t think he noticed the effect he had on you. Or if he did, he didn’t care about your pitiful infatuation. But other times, you could have sworn he did this kind of thing on purpose.

Your first stint in the house went smoothly. You made sure to do everything he asked and even cleaned up the place a little bit. When he returned from wherever his work had taken him that time, he seemed impressed to your delight. He looked around, making small talk with you before writing your check.

“You get up to anything crazy while I was gone?” he said, smirking as he scribbled his signature on the small rectangle.

“Yeah, I was real wild - I brought out your vacuum for probably the first time.”

He laughed, handed you the check, and teasingly purred “good girl.”

Now, he may have been joking, but your panties nearly soaked through with arousal regardless. You yet again hid your revealing expression as you said a timid goodbye and headed out to your car. You were shifting your thighs together the whole ride home, fantasizing about being a good girl for Agent Kennedy so he would relieve that ache between your legs that clouded your thoughts.

Honestly, all of this made you feel pretty pathetic. Lusting after your father’s coworker, now technically your boss, who was a good fifteen years older than you. Blushing and squirming every time he said something more than ‘hi.’ Weren’t you better than this? But then you’d see those thick biceps and mysterious eyes, and the answer in your mind would be a resounding no.

Because honestly, you weren’t better than this, you were so much worse. After the good girl incident, you decided that if he didn’t want you yet, he would. You would make sure of it. From then on, every time you were housesitting, you wore your most revealing outfits, did your hair all pretty, and even tried special perfume so you’d smell extra nice.

But none of it seemed to work. He kept up his regular teasing and charm, but to your dismay, he hadn’t railed you on that sad leather couch in the living room. You tried to convince yourself that his gazes lingered longer and that his touches were more strategic, but that felt like reach even for you.

It was so frustrating. What more could you do? You touched his arm while he spoke. You laughed harder at his corny jokes. You even hugged him once or twice when you could justify it. You tried to drop hints every way you could without literally just trying to seduce him, and he did not seem to care. You nearly gave up. You decided that maybe you should just cut your losses and spare yourself the humiliation. Leave yourself with some dignity and resign to just being his housesitter.

You would have done this if not for the fact that he lets you sleep in his bed while he’s gone.

His house was meant for one person. It didn’t have a guest room. He told you on your first gig that you were obviously allowed to sleep in his bed since the alternative was the aforementioned sad leather couch in the living room. He told you to bring whatever you needed to be comfortable - sheets, blankets, pillows - since you’d be there for weeks at a time.

At first, it was too weird. It made you feel dirty, sleeping in his bed while harboring your secret carnal desires. But goddamn, that couch in the living room was uncomfortable. You stuck it out for the first time, but the second time you housesat, you relented and dragged your belongings back to the room you’d forbidden yourself from knowing.

His bedroom, like the rest of the house, is pretty blank, but there’s a little more personality here. It made you feel like such a stalker, but you couldn’t help making observations, right? You got to see the type of cologne he wore, the few dusty books he kept next to his bed, what kind of stuff he crammed in the nightstand drawers. It sounded creepy, but you just had curiosity, right?

You set yourself up in his queen size bed, draping the plush blanket you brought with you across the mattress. The bed was comfy enough, but the absolute best part, the part that kept your fantasies alive and well, was the way the sheets smelled like him.

You nearly moaned when you took a deep breath, filling your nose with that familiar scent. It gave you such a rush pushing your face into those smooth gray linens. It was so wrong, but you couldn’t help shamefully slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts to play with your swollen clit. You clutch the sheets in your fists as you writhe on the bed, whining as you fantasize about your special agent.

Leon had gone years leaving his house desolate without an issue. All that nonsense about potential burglaries and spending money for you had been total bullshit. It’s not like there was anything of value in his house anyway. Those excuses served only as a way to get more of you in his life. He thought housesitting was a happy middleground, a tether to you without being obvious about his motivations.

Ever since he saw you for the first time, heading out your front door, offering a timid ‘nice to meet you,’ he had been hooked. You bewitched him with your sweet temperament, that soft laugh when he told you bad jokes, those gorgeous eyes projecting all the emotions in that pretty head of yours. God, you were so fucking cute.

You made him feel like a dirty old man, sick and perverted for coveting his colleague’s daughter. The embarrassment he felt within himself when he’d notice he was staring at your tits or imagining how your soft lips would look wrapped around his cock was immeasurable. Even though the guilt boiled inside him, he couldn’t stop himself. He craved you. He started finding more opportunities to visit your house, hoping he could steal a few moments of your time. That’s when he knew enough was enough.

Having you as his house sitter worked perfectly. He could have his moments with you without feeling too disgusted with himself. Even though he liked to tease every so often, he kept it friendly. He noticed that you, on the other hand, seemed to be doing everything to change that.

He wasn’t a fool. He could see the changes in your appearance. Those skimpy outfits you’d flaunt yourself in drove him crazy. The way you’d playfully roll your eyes and brush his arm had his cock twitching in his pants. It was becoming all the more tempting to spread you out on the dining table and take what he wanted. But he still wrestled with that part of himself that said to not take it too far. That you deserved better.

That was until you started sleeping in his bed.

He had come home after your second gig, given you your check, and sent you on your way quickly because he was exhausted from his mission. He went straight to his room and collapsed on the bed. He could tell the sheets had been freshly washed by the soft feel, but also because you were always going above and beyond to please him. Despite the recent cleaning, he swore to himself he could smell some of your perfume on them.

He looked like a madman, smelling his bed sheets for the faintest hit of that scent. He groaned, picturing you lying here, your beautiful body sprawled out on his bed. He inhaled deeper while conjuring images of your unkempt hair and sleepy eyes. It wasn’t long until his dick sprung to life as he saw images of you with one of his pillows between your legs, whimpering as you drag your dripping cunt back and forth along the fabric. He couldn’t help the need to desperately pump his cock to sinful visions of his precious girl.

This morning it’s about six when Leon unlocks the front door and quietly walks inside. He completed his mission hours before. He was tired, but it had been short, only about a week, and relatively easy. He told you he would be home in the evening, but he’d finished earlier than expected.

He trudges through the house and down the hall to his bedroom, collapsing in bed at the forefront of his mind. It’s not until he reaches the door and hears your deep breathing that it occurs to him that his bed is currently occupied. He gently pushes the door open and walks in, planning on rousing you so you could get your money and be on your way. When he sees you though, that plan vanishes from his mind.

The sight of you nearly melts him into a puddle. He pads closer to the bed, careful not to disturb you. Your shiny hair is draped across the pillow as you lie on your stomach with one leg hiked up. Your arms rest close to your face, their raised position causing your t-shirt to ride up and allowing him to see your waist. The blanket was tangled between your legs, and his eyes are immediately drawn to the junction of your thighs covered only by those thin panties you wore.

Despite your beauty, he controls himself. He pulls the blanket over your lower body and sits beside you to contemplate his next move. He came up with a few different things he could do, but all he wanted right now was to watch you sleep. He felt like such a creep, but you looked heavenly in this state. His ears strained to hear those delicate exhales coming from your parted lips.

He could just go sleep on the couch until you woke up. He could just wake you up and offer to let you stay until you had your bearings. Or he could just let himself enjoy this a little more.

He wanted to wake you though. He wasn’t fully sure of what he was doing, but if there was any part of you that had reservations he wanted to know. It would rip his heart to shreds if he frightened you somehow. He begins rubbing your back in long soothing strokes. He makes small circles with his fingers every so often. You stir a little, but don’t wake.

He continues his ministrations, smiling at your sleeping form. He uses his other hand to brush your hair from your face. He strokes the locks away from your closed eyes before leaning closer to you. He can smell that familiar scent that had driven him to humping the sheets for the last few months.

“Hey Angel, need you to wake up for me,” he coos in your ear, his hot breath fanning across the side of your head.

It slowly registers inside your unconscious mind that you aren’t dreaming. Actual fingers are coasting along your back. An actual voice is coaxing you back to reality.

A low hum emits from your throat as you shift to face the source of your disturbance. Your eyes open, still heavy from sleep, and Leon enters your field of vision. For a second, you wonder if you’re still dreaming.

“There she is,” he whispers, giving you that charming smile. He runs his fingers along your jaw and tilts your chin to turn your face completely in his direction.

You feel your brain malfunctioning as he floods your senses. The morning light coming through the window illuminating him as he looks down at you. The deep timbre of his voice speaking to you. His rough fingertips dragging across the smooth expanse of your cheek.

Soon as your eyes come into focus and your mind clears the fog of sleep a little, you grasp enough of the situation to feel a jolt of panic. It felt like you woke up late for school. You shoot up in bed and look at him with wide, apologetic eyes.

“Oh my God, Leon, I’m so sorry. I thought you wouldn’t be back until tonight. I’ll be ready in a minute. Just-” you ramble. You go to fling the blanket off of you, but remember you didn’t wear shorts to bed. You have to sit there, looking at him as you feel heat creeping to your cheeks.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he cuts you off with a quiet chuckle, gently catching your arm when you sit up, “I finished a little early. You don’t need to rush out the door. I figured you’d still be asleep.”

The look in his eyes soothes you. He has that rugged, worn out look that he gets when he comes back from missions. Your heart rate falls back down to normal levels, but your eyes still cast downwards, a little embarrassed he’d caught you unprepared. His fingers trail up and down your arm, and you shift a little to try and hide the fact that your nipples are hardening beneath the flimsy fabric of your shirt.

“Thank you. I’ll be up in a few though. I know you’re probably tired,” you say, giving him a sheepish smile.

He moves so that he’s further on the bed with you. He lays back on the pillows and looks up at you, rubbing your back how he was before you woke up.

“Mmmm, I am, but you still don’t need to rush. I’m not gonna complain about a sweet thing like you warming my bed,” he says, that teasing smile spreading across his face and his fingers starting to trace patterns exclusively on the small of your back.

Your eyes flit away as your own smile grows on your face. How were you supposed to be normal about this? You look down at your hands in your lap and mutter a thank you.

“Honey, you really don’t need to be so shy all of the sudden,” he says softly, but there’s a smug lilt to his voice as well. You bite your lip as his hand begins fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

He can’t help the smirk and predator-like glint in his eyes that form at your reaction. This was it. That little smile and refusal to meet his eyes was all he could stand. He was closing in now. The flirtation between you two had gone on long enough. He wanted this, and if you wanted it too, his mind couldn’t find a reason to deny the two of you any longer.

“Sweetheart, if you have something to tell me, you can come out and say it. I don’t bite. Unless you want me to,” he says as he reaches up to pull your hair behind your shoulder and out of your face, “And, lately I’m starting to think that’s what you want.”

You look over to him now, your eyes staring into his. Your limbs feel weak, disbelief coursing through your veins. Your thoughts stampede through your mind, but you eventually force the words from your throat.

“I think I want that too,” you breathe. Your heart seizes at his brows playfully rising. You lay down on the bed, resting on your side so that you and Leon are face to face. Your pulse thunders in your ears while you try to conceal how shaky your breathing is.

He scooches over to you, pushing you on to your back and propping himself on his elbow so he’s positioned above you. He leans down and presses two faint kisses to your cheeks. Pulling back, he looks into your eyes and strokes your cheek again with the same soft and slow movements.

“Think, babydoll? I think you know what you want,” he whispers, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip, “I think you’ve known for a while. Wearing all those cute little outfits, prancing through my house and brushing against me like a kitten. You were just begging for my attention.”

You squirm slightly under the spotlight of his affection. Somehow, you maintain eye contact even though every cell in you feels the urge to look away. Part of your mind wonders if he’s still teasing. If he’s about to pull away and leave you wanting.

Before you could overthink anymore, his head lowers to the crook of your neck. He takes a deep breath of you as he moves himself further on top.

“Now, you’ve got it, but all you had to do, sweet thing, was ask,” he says as his mouth ghosts over your neck, “That’s all you have to do right now. Just want to hear that you want me as bad as I want you.”

“Yes,” you whimper without a second thought, “Please touch me.”

“That’s my good girl,” he hums as he begins kissing your neck. The kisses are soft. They’re barely there, but they’re overwhelming to you. You can’t help the pathetic sound that leaves your lips as you tilt your head back. The hand that had been touching your face trails down to your waist and begins caressing your side under your shirt.

His tongue gently laps against the skin of your neck between kisses. Your whole body is starting to heat up while simultaneously getting chills. Every inch of you aches for his touch. Your thighs subconsciously spread as your breathing becomes heavier.

Leon lets out a small laugh at your display. “You must really want this Baby. Just a few kisses and rubs and you’re already mine,” he murmurs as his lips move up your neck and down your jaw. He kisses your lips next, giving your bottom lip a little nip.

Another needy sound escapes your mouth. You return the kiss and flick your tongue against his lips. “I do, wanted this since I met you,” you moan, your body writhing for more.

“Naughty girl,” he teases against your lips, “That’s okay though, Angel. I’m the same way. Wanted a handful of these pretty tits since I saw you.” His hand moves up and kneads your breast. His fingers massage the flesh before centering and pinching your nipple.

You whine and arch into his touch. Your eyes flutter as your face contorts with desire. He slides over you, straddling your waist. He stares down at you and takes in what was finally in his grasp. He coos for you to sit up a little while he pulls your shirt off of you. You comply and then flop back against the pillows. Now exposed from the waist up, his eyes feel even more intense. He’s locked on to the view of your tits.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he mutters, “Even better than I imagined.” His hands cup the sides of your breasts, groping them a bit. You can now see his cock beginning to strain against his jeans. Your mouth waters at the sight, but it’s gone when he leans down to take a nipple into his mouth.

His tongue circles the peak before lapping against it, drawing more whines from you. Your body arches into his touch while his hands never let up their fondling. You take your lip between your teeth again. He moves to give the other nipple the same treatment, leaving the other one cold as the air touches the saliva-coated skin.

He plays with your breasts for a while more before drifting down your abdomen, lavishing your stomach with kisses. He squeezes your waist as he playfully tugs the hem of your panties with his teeth. He looks up at you deviously. “Your nipples were so hard, I bet your pussy’s fucking soaked for me.”

All you can do is nod, any verbal response tangled up in your esophagus. He leans back on his knees and swiftly pulls the garment off. His pupils seem blown out as he gets a look at your cunt. He pushes your thighs to your stomach, spreading you out for his gaze. You felt so exposed, at his mercy as he held you there and just looked at you. Your arms reach down and pull at the hem of his shirt.

“Wanna see you too,” you whimper with pleading eyes.

“Yeah?” he says with a soft smile. He leans back and pulls his shirt off. It takes everything in you to hold back a gasp. “Been fantasizing about me, have you?”

Your eyes rake along his chiseled abdomen, drinking in every line and shadow of his muscular frame. You reach out and pull him back on top of you. His grin grows, and he indulges you. You connect your mouths again, this time sliding your tongue inside his. He groans at your sudden eagerness. He runs his hand through your hair while you feel up his back, exploring the definition there.

You give him a little push, signaling that you want to roll over. His body flips over and takes you with him so that you’re positioned how you wanted. You make out for a minute more until you pull back, looking at him with your lustful eyes and swollen lips.

“Wanna suck your cock,” you say simply, sliding down his body so that you’re lying between his legs. You nuzzle against the bulge in his pants before unzipping them and tugging them down.

His eyes follow your every movement. He pets your head as you rub your face against the outline of his dick. He tilts his head back and lets out a sigh.

“That’s a good girl, just gotta give you some love and then you loosen up, don’t you?” he coos.

“Mhm,” you hum. You kiss his solid length over the cloth of his boxers. Then, finally, what you had been waiting for since meeting Leon. You loop your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and pull them down, unveiling his beautiful cock.

You wrap your fingers around it, just an exploratory touch. You feel the veins in your hold and the heat radiating from his shaft. You slowly bring your head to the tip to give him some tiny licks. Your eyes dart to his face, looking for approval.

Leon’s chest ached from the way you were looking at him like he was a god. When your tongue sticks out and your eyes return his stare, he nods at you and keeps stroking your hair. Your lips soon wrap around the tip, and you bob your head a little. He groans and his hips twitch.

“That’s a good girl, baby. Good fucking girl,” he moans as your head slides further down his member. His fingers lace through your hair, pulling a little.

The praise only makes you more enthusiastic. You move up and down with more speed, making lewd slurping noises as you work. His hand on your head and his sounds of pleasure has heat collecting in your belly, leaking out of your dripping pussy.

His head rests against the head board as he watches you with half-open eyes. His eyes squeeze shut and his body tenses as you push your head all the way down, taking him into your throat. Spit trickles from your mouth and drips on to his pelvis.

“Fuck, Sweetheart,” he whimpers, tugging on your hair a little. You taste his pre cum leaking on your tongue. A gagging noise comes from you and his hips twitch harder. He barely restrains himself from bucking up and lodging himself deeper in your throat. You moan around his cock, driving him even crazier. He feels the rush of an orgasm approaching and tugs your hair with more firmness, guiding your head up and off his lap. You whine softly as you lose the taste of him.

“Sorry, pretty girl, don’t wanna cum just yet,” he says.

You crawl back up his body, so you’re in his arms again. You kiss his cheeks and the corners of his mouth as he rolls the two of you over so he’s on top again. He connects your lips in a deep kiss, tasting himself on you as he drags the tip of his cock through your slippery folds.

He doesn’t tease for long though. Soon enough, he’s pushing himself into your tight cunt. You both let out a symphony of sinful noises. Leon watches as your face contorts with pleasure as he stretches you out. You both felt a budding sense of satisfaction after finally receiving what you craved for the last several months.

He bottoms out inside of you. His head falls forward against your neck. He pants as he holds himself together and lets you adjust, keeping an iron grip on your hips. Your fluttering around him as you accommodate his girth. Your nails lightly dig into his back while you cling to him.

He begins thrusting with slow and deep strokes. You moan out his name a few times with a variety of expletives. He keeps his face buried in your neck, grunting as he feels the velvety sensation of your walls around his length. His motions become more fluid as he finds a rhythm with you.

“That’s right Angel, better than your dreams?” he murmurs against your neck.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you whimper, “So much better. Think your cock was made for me.”

“That so, Baby? I’m made to fill up a precious girl like you? Keep you happy and full of cum,” he growls into your neck, his thrusts gaining intensity.

You nod thoughtlessly as he continues battering your insides, gliding over your sweet spot repeatedly.Your arms wrap tighter around him as you feel yourself getting dragged closer and closer to the edge. Your noises become more strained as Leon lays sloppy kisses on the side of your head.

He hooks his arms underneath your knees and brings your thighs up to your abdomen again. His arm loops around and thumbs your clit as he slams himself in and out. Your back arches and you squirm from the rush of white hot pleasure. You’re right there, not able to hold on for much longer.

“I’m gonna have you so full of my cum today, it’s gonna be dripping out of you still the next time you’re here,” he grunts into your ear, “Make sure your pussy remembers me till I can fill her again.”

His vulgar words rip a high pitched moan from your throat and cause your eyes to roll back. “Fuck, Leon, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Go ahead, sweet girl. Squeeze me nice and tight,” he moans, his own voice getting strained.

You do as he says. The orgasm overtakes you. You release a strangled cry as your body rhythmically rolls into the feeling. Your pussy clamps around Leon tight, sucking him deep and keeping the attention on that blissful spot. The thrill of satisfaction rushing through your mind only works you further. Your eyes flutter and your lips part as you completely let go.

As he watches you cum, he notes that it might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The sight of your gorgeous body writhing and trembling because of him. The primal sounds of your moans and cries. It’s too much for him. He growls and grunts into your neck, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He snaps even harder into you and floods you with his sticky, hot cum.

You both ride the waves of euphoria together until you both start coming down. He basically collapses on you as he catches his breath and you wipe the sweat from your brow. After a minute, he pushes himself off of you and flat on to the bed next to you. He gazes at the ceiling as his chest continues to rise and fall with the need for more oxygen.

You sit up slowly, realizing he probably wants you gone now. Like he said, you feel his cum leaking out of you as you move to grab your panties from the corner of his bed. This is how you expected it to be, but it still hurt a little. Nothing you couldn’t handle though. Your pulling them back on when your snapped out of your thoughts by Leon’s arm around your waist, dragging you to him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks teasingly, spooning you and softly kissing beneath your ear, “You got what you wanted and now you’re running out?”

“Oh, uhhh… I thought you’d want me to leave,” you say quietly.

He guides your face so you’re looking at him. His eyes are still soft but more serious. “You think I would just fuck you and then throw you out on your ass? You’ve been sleeping in my bed for months, but you don’t know me as well as you think,” he says and kisses your nose, “You don’t have anywhere to be today, yeah? You thought you’d be here till later anyway.”

You nod in agreement, your eyes casting down with some embarrassment over your assumption.

“Hey, don’t get all shy on me now. There’s no reason for it,” he teases, “We have all day for me to show you how I want to take care of you. Just give me a moment, I’m not as young as I use to be.”

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