#scared can i barks with strangers?? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

teratosfavouritesnack · 1 month ago

Text

mothman x afab!reader - slight dub-con, monster in heat, oviposition, impregnation, belly inflation, lots of cum, intoxication (getting high on his pheromones, kinda)

You've never heard those wailing noises before. You've been living in a cottage in the midst of the woods for a few years now, and while you're used to hearing all kinds of animal sounds, you've never been scared by such high-pitched keening coming from the dense trees that surround your house.

You didn't know what to expect when you decided to follow the sound. Fortunately, it was daytime and you were familiar with the area, so your sole fear was coming across a truly horrific sight.

All your worries vanished as soon as you found out the source of the noise. A towering, imposing creature clothed in fur stood beside a tree, or rather hunched over its trunk. There was nobody else. Only one of the mothfolk you'd heard so much about but had never encountered before. The antennae were furiously shaking, producing that high-pitched sound that had terrified you from a distance but now filled you with something akin to pity. The massive wings, a triumph of red, white, and blue that sparkled in the sunshine pouring through the foliage, twitched and heaved as if the creature's breathing was laboured.

“A-Are you alright...?” you asked hesitantly, your eyes wide in awe and locked onto the trembling figure.

The moth was startled by your voice, turning around to set their huge red eyes on you. You couldn’t help but notice how incredibly beautiful they were. The colors, the long dark hair, the big eyes, the imposing stature... everything about the creature both amazed and astonished you.

“I... I'm fine,” they managed to say, their voice coming out rough and trembling. “I just... I don't want to hurt you, so please go away.”

Your brow furrowed at his words. 'Hurt'? Why would they hurt you? The mothfolk was among the most peaceful creatures of the forest, or so you’ve always heard. Perhaps they could be dangerous to strangers, attack out of fear or to defend themselves… but this one moth didn’t seem to be scared of you. You watched, puzzled, as their clawed hand reached for the bark of the tree and clung onto it as if to ease his tremors.

“You look like you’re in pain…”, you said as you warily made one step forward, your worried and curious gaze still locked onto their shaking figure. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

A low groan escaped their lips, their voice came out strained and pained as they warned you again. “Please, stay back!” They squeezed their eyes shut for a moment, as if fighting against themselves upon what, you didn’t know. When the eyes opened again, they were glazed with a mix of desperation and shame.

“I... I'm in heat. My body craves... it needs…”, they trailed off just as their gaze raked over your figure before abruptly averting, unable to bring themselves to confess exactly what their body yearned for. “Just stay away.”

They shifted uncomfortably, turning to support themselves against the trunk and only then did you notice the huge erection poking out from the thick fur covering their hips.

You swallowed and instinctively stepped back, your eyes wide with shock. You understood now why the mothman was so hell-bent on keeping you at distance, why he said he didn’t want to hurt you…

“Oh-! I'm sorry-! I didn't realize-!”

You had no idea what was going on inside of him. A shudder surged through his entire frame as he witnessed your reaction. He knew he must have looked monstrous to you: a freakish creature overcome by heat and driven by primal, animalistic instincts. Humans do not go through it, they cannot understand. The humiliation that gnawed at his insides became stronger, mingling with the furious desire pumping through his veins.

“It's okay,” he forced himself to say, even though nothing about this situation felt remotely close to being okay. “Please, just go... get somewhere safer.” But even as those words left his mouth, his legs trembled with the effort of holding himself back. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to lunge forward, to pin you down - the sole creature that had dared to approach him since this torture began - and claim you as his mate. To pump you full of his seed until you swelled with his offspring.

You should have done that. You should have listened to him and ran away as far as you could... Your instincts were screaming at you to go, urging you to leave but for some reason you didn't. He looked and sounded so desperate and vulnerable... You found yourself pitying him even more than before. You truly were out of your mind to even consider the notion of helping him… Except, he could have easily assaulted you from the minute he spotted you, and yet he didn't; instead, he made every attempt to push you away. That proved to you that he was kind. And a kind creature always deserves to be helped.

“What if I touch you?” you asked him, trying to keep your voice and heartbeat steady and the images of you being fucked sensless by a mothman out of your mind. “Would that be enough?”

“You... you truly wish to help me?” His voice was barely above a whisper yet thick with emotion. “Even though I am... this?” He gestured to his imposing form, to the rigid length of his arousal straining against his fur, as if to persuade you to see reason but you were already advancing. His eyes somehow appeared even larger as he watched you cautiously stepping towards him, until you were only a few feet away from him. From so up close you could see how distraught he truly was; his dishelved hair, his sweaty skin, his ruffled fur. Your heart ached for him.

“I-It might be enough-,” he admitted with evident hesitation mingled with urgency, swallowing sharply as he called upon all his might to hold back from jumping you. You were so close, he could sense your sweet, tantalizing scent. “Feeling the warmth of your hands could be enough to ease the ache...”

The air seemed to vibrate with tension as you approached his fur with you hand. His breath quickened, his whole body tensing in anticipation. For a moment, he considered pulling away, hiding himself somewhere and suffer through the pain for the next days - but the ache in his loins was becoming unbearable. He wasn’t sure he could resist it any longer.

Slowly, almost reverently, he extended a clawed hand towards yours, guiding your fingers to the base of his throbbing erection. Even that light contact sent jolts of pleasure coursing through him, and he bit back a groan.

“Here…”, his voice cracked with desperation. “Please, will you stroke it for me?”

Your eyes flickered down to watch as the long, dark red proboscis-phallus, stricken with bluish veins, throbbed under the feather-like touch of your fingertips. You felt your skin tingle at the touch, his skin somehow warm and cool at the same time, moist and slippery.

Your eyes met his again as you started to stroke his cock, avoiding the swollen purplish tip.

“Like this?”

A low, guttural moan escaped his lips and his eyes fluttered shut while he savoured the sensation of your hand moving along his aching length. "Yes, like that," he breathed, his hips subtly rocking into your touch. "More... please."

His cry boosted your confidence in your strokes, delivering even more waves of comfort and pleasure through his pained body. He opened his eyes to meet yours once again. There was a tenderness in your gaze that touched his soul, and he found himself drawn to you in a way he couldn't fully comprehend.

"Don't stop," he urged, his voice strained with need. "I'm so close… I’ve been on edge for days…"

You simply nodded in acceptance, feeling as if you would do anything he asked of you at that moment. It felt as if you were losing yourself in his big, mesmerizing eyes, in those glowing pools of crimson as vast and limitless as the universe. You were in awe at the sight of such a magnificent creature… at his raw response to your touch. You felt both powerful and utterly subservient.

When your palm touched his swollen tip and tenderly squeezed, the mothman felt the dam break within him. With a strangled cry, his body convulsed, his cock jerked sharply, and a torrent of eggs erupted from it, flooding your hand and wrist with his warm, slimy discharge.

"Oh Light, I'm sorry!" he gasped, horror and ecstasy warring in his expression as he watched his seed overflow onto your hand. "Too much, I couldn't control it..." Despite his words, he made no move to pull away or stop your ministrations. Instead, he leaned into your touch, his hips still thrusting weakly as the last of his eggs emptied into your waiting hand.

Your jaw dropped in shock as you felt the myriads of tiny slimy eggs surge onto your palm. You instinctively reached out with your other hand to collect them, but you couldn't avoid the sticky goo from staining your clothes and dropping onto the ground. You were panicked, unsure what to do, his apologies barely reaching your ears.

Your dismay deepened when you realized his erection hadn't softened; in fact, it appeared to be growing even harder than before. It turns out that simply touching him wasn't enough to quench his heat after all.

The creature watched in fascination as you scrambled to capture the stream of eggs pouring from his cock, your hands working feverishly to contain the slimy mess. Despite the chaos, a small part of him was thrilled at the sight; it was as if you were trying to protect his precious offspring. His lust-clouded mind could only picture how good of a nurturer you could be for his larvae…

"I-I can't help it," he choked out, fresh tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. "I need to be inside you..."

Reaching out with trembling hands, he grasped your waist, pulling you closer until your soft curves pressed against the hard planes of his body. His rigid cock nudged insistently at your stomach, leaking trails of slick fluid across your clothing.

"Please," he begged brokenly, "let me put them inside you where it's safe... I promise I won't hurt you."

You were so shocked, so speechless that you barely reacted. You were still keeping your hands cupped, stuck in your instinctive yet pathetic intent to save the eggs, when he laid you down on the grass. The slimy mess inevitably dropped all over you, even on your face. A sweet taste similar to nothing you had ever tasted before met your lips, causing your head to spin, your vision to blur and your body to heat up all at once.

"W-what-?" you gasped, your slime-tainted palms grasping blindly for him. The mothman took your eagerness to touch him for consent, and so he pinned you to the ground, dwarfing you with his larger form, and then sought out your mouth, capturing your lips in a desperate, sloppy kiss. His long tongue plundered the warm cavern, savoring the sweet taste of his own sperm mingled with your unique flavor.

Murmuring wordlessly, he ground his pelvis against yours, the tip of his throbbing cock sliding along the crease of your hip. The friction sent jolts of pleasure-pain shooting through his loins, fueling his frenzy. Breaking the kiss, he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as he peppered your skin with open-mouthed kisses. His hands roamed over your body, squeezing and kneading the plush flesh, mapping every unfamiliar curve and valley of your human frame.

“You have to guide me”, he breathed against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “I don't want to hurt you, but I need to be deep inside you…”

His huge hands grasped your knees, spreading them wider apart as he notched the head of his cock against your crotch. His body trembled with restraint, sweat beading on his forehead as he fought to hold back.

In your blinding and mind-dulling trance, all you could feel was the intense heat pooling between your thighs and the velvety touch of his fur against your clammy skin, and so you clung to those feelings, allowing them to guide you through the fog. One of your hands ventured down to pull your pants past your hips, while the other gripped hard onto his fur. Your panties slid down as well from the force of your tug. With eager movements, you spread your thighs wider for him and stretched your folds open with your fingers offering him a good view of your glistening cunt.

At the sight of your bare, vulnerable sex, the mothman let out a strangled groan, his cock pulsing with renewed urgency. His eyes glazed over, and releasing one of your knees, he brought a hand to caress your inner thigh, his claw tips lightly scraping the tender skin.

The intoxicating scent of your arousal wafted up to him, mingling with the musky fragrance of his own heated pheromones, clouding his senses even further. His sensitive head rubbed across your swollen folds, his keen eyes flickering anxiously from your flesh to your face to gauge your reaction.

Once he figured out you were not in pain but rather eagerly clutching further onto his fur, his control snapped, and with a deep cry he pushed forward, the swollen head of his cock breaching your slick entrance with satisfying ease. His antennae vibrated furiously as he sank into your welcoming warmth, your tightness enveloping him like a glove.

For a moment, he just stayed still, relishing the feeling of being fully sheathed within you, of finally tasting te soothing warmth he had been so desperately craving for days but the urge to claim you, to impregnate you with his offspring, proved too powerful to resist. Slowly, he started thrusting in earnest, each snap of his hips burying him to the hilt inside you. While his fur muffled the rocking of his hips hitting yours, the wet squelch of your arousal filled the air and only encouraged him to rut into you with even wilder abandon.

You were a mess of shameless mewls and whimpers, your fingers driving into his thick fur till you could almost feel the skin beneath, your hips feverishly meeting his in your desperate and blind search for release. A release that was growing at an unfathomable speed within your belly, spurred by the blissful way his inhuman cock filled your every crevice, generating that familiar yet exquisitely new kind of pressure that hit its highest point as his proboscis-phallus jerked and erupted inside you. The phenomenal orgasm that hit you seemed to merge into an even more earth-shattering one when he buried himself deeper inside you. You felt your womb inflate, stretching to accommodate each little gelatinous orb that poured out of his cock and found its home in your warm depths.

The sensation of his eggs taking root inside you, combined with the sheer volume of cum pumped into your fertile womb, sent the mothman spiraling into a euphoric haze. His antennae quivered uncontrollably, brushing against your face as he continued to grind against you, ensuring every last drop took residence in your fertile core. As the last spurt subsided, he collapsed atop you, his panting breaths hot against your neck, his bulk pinning you to the forest floor and his wings wrapping securely around you.

A strangely exhilarating feeling flared up in your womb and propagated throughout the entirety of your body, causing your skin and insides to tingle. You felt no pain; in fact, you had never felt better. The best way you could explain the sensation is as if you were floating in the air among pillowy clouds, cocooned in the warmest embrace. This delightful feeling swiflty dragged you into a peaceful slumber, though not before you felt strong yet soft arms gather your trembling form and a gentle breeze blow through your hair.

a.n.: I feel like this is a weird one... mostly because I've never written about oviposition before and I haven't read much about it either so idk if this is how it's supposed to go lol but I guess this is my take on it, I hope you enjoyed it <3

MORE STORIES <-

my Ko-fi for tips 🌸

267 notes · View notes

clockwayswrites · 1 year ago

Text

City Pigeons Bleed Green

WC: 1329 Masterpost CW: stitches, blood, canon typical violence, history of experimentation, bad (lbh evil) parent Fentons “I need to get to Bruce Wayne.”

“We should be able to arrange a conversation,” Tim said immediately. None of the shock and concern that Tim must have been feeling seeped through into his words. Jason always admired how even keel Tim could seem.

The kid’s eyes snapped to Tim, brow furrowed in confusion.

Tim just shrugged. “He does good in the city, so do we. Besides, his kids are targeted a lot and sometimes we get involved to help out with that. There’s a line of communication that we can use.”

“So what?” They rasped. “You let every kid who wants to talk to Bruce Wayne get to just ‘cause they’re bleeding out?”

“He’d say that was a good enough reason,” Jason said with certainty. He knew how much money and effort Bruce poured into Make a Wish and the children's hospital.

The kid squinted at him before glancing away. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk to him… like this…”

“Then a safe house for right now,” Tim insisted. “Just like the name says, it’s safe. We can get you patched up and you can rest somewhere you don’t have to look over your shoulder. When you’re feeling better, we’ll set up that meeting.”

“You’ll let a stranger stay at your safe house, just like that?”

“Kid,” Jason said with a sigh. “I don’t think you’re getting it. You’re a very hurt kid. You’re exactly the type of person that we’d do that for. We’re the Bats of Gotham and we protect her people.”

There was that ugly laugh again. “I’m not even from Gotham.”

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters in Gotham,” Jason said. He took the risk and held out his hand. Jason didn’t pray anymore, not since his mother died, but he still silently hoped that the kid would take it. Jason felt certain they wouldn’t make it if they didn’t take it.

The fingers braced against the grimy cinder block wall twitched. Then the hand reached out. The kid collapsed forward into the motion and Jason lunged to catch them. He lifted them gently, worried about how light they were.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you. We’ll make sure you’re safe.”

The kid hid their face against Jason’s jacket. Their words were almost too quiet to hear. “I don’t know if you can.”

“Never underestimate what a stubborn Bat can do, Kid.”

The kid passed out halfway to the safe house. It was probably for the best. Their injuries were… extensive would be too kind of a word.

Tim laid down a plastic sheet on the bed before Jason deposited the kid down on it. The hoodie, which couldn’t be the kid’s at that size, had to be practically peeled off. The main wound that must have been the blood splatter he noticed was the immediate concern, but it was everything else that worried Tim more.

This was more than signs of abuse, this was torture or experimentation. Those scars and wounds cut into the kid’s arms and torso was far too even and controlled. There were other, messier scars that looked like burns and stab wounds. The inside of their elbows were littered with track marks and their hands bruised from what must have been IV ports. The worst for Tim was seeing the metal collar around the kid’s neck, but he knew that wasn’t what was getting Jason. He didn’t need to see Jason’s eyes to tell they were glued to the track marks.

“Go take five and fill a bowl up with warm water,” Tim said.

“Red—”

“Hood,” Tim snapped, cutting off Jason’s growl. Tim had suffered Jason’s bite, the bark didn’t scare him anymore. Besides, they understood each other these days. They were the Bats will willing blood on their hands. “Go take five. They’re not going anywhere and I need your help to patch them up, so go take five and get your head on, okay?”

The fight drained out of Jason like a string had been cut. He nodded and stalked off to the tiny kitchen that was basically an afterthought to the living room. It was hardly their most glamorous safe house but it was close, had two bedrooms, and was secure, despite it’s shoddy appearance.

Tim had the old bandages and scraps of cloth peeled off by the time Jason came back to start cleaning away the green blood.

“We need to get antibiotics for them from Leslie,” Jason said after the worst was cleaned up.

“Definitely. This new wound is from a knife and some of these were wrapped with what I think was an old hospital scrub.”

“Lends credence to…”

“Yeah.”

Jason nodded stiffly. “This needs stitches.”

“Luckily I think bandages are fine for everything else,” Tim said.

He snapped off the nitrate gloves and put on a fresh pair. He carefully numbed the skin around the wound while he waited for Jason to be in a spot to hold the kid down should they wake up. The first few stitches went fine. Tim took the time to be extra neat. The kid didn’t need any worse scars because of his sloppy work.

Tim had just started on the forth one when the kid started to stir. They twitched and whimpered in their sleep. Jason pressed down carefully to keep them from moving too much.

“No, Mom, please, I’m your son! I’m not— Don’t… not again. I’ll be good…”

Tim looked up at the impassive red helmet.

“I’m good. I have him. Just keep stitching so we can get him tucked in to bed.”

“Okay,” Tim said and got back to work. It was hard to ignore the whimpered words and everything they implied, but Tim needed to focus. There would be time to start looking into everything after.

It was as he was cleaning up that Jason threw a wrench into things.

“Don’t run his DNA.”

“What?” Tim hissed, rounding on Jason. “That is clearly Bruce’s kid in there!”

“Exactly. It’s obviously his kid, there’s no doubt in that with the way he looks. And just as obviously he’s been tortured or experimented on. Don’t you think he’s been stripped of his privacy enough?”

All the fight bled out of Tim an instant. “Fuck. I didn’t think… I just wanted to…”

“I know. You wanted to help by solving this, but that’s not what this kid needs right now. So hold off until he feels safe enough to consent, okay?”

“Okay, no, you’re right, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Red,” Jason said, ruffling Tim’s hair with a wet hand. “Creepy stalking is just your way of caring, I get it. Just pull back a little this time. You can focus on that collar he’s wearing right now.”

Tim shuddered. “That thing needs to go. Am I staying on watch then?”

“If you’re fine with that. I’ll get Oracle to call the others to the Cave.”

“Sure,” Tim said. He didn’t want to miss that conversation, but someone had to stay with the kid and he was a better choice to get the collar off. “Just make sure I have a comm line in.”

“Of course. Can’t have you missing out on us discussing the old man’s sex life.”

“Ugh, never mind, I don’t need a comm line!”

“Too late!” Jason called out with a laugh as he headed for the door.

Tim flicked him off just to do so.

After double checking that the place was secure, Tim pulled out a tool bag. At least he could start by testing the collar for explosive residue or other traps that would keep Tim from taking it off. The thought of the collar being rigged made him sick to his stomach, but it fit too well with the canvas of scars that the kid bore.

“Who did this to you, Kid?” Tim asked, even though he knew he wouldn’t get a response. “And how soon can Hood put a bullet in their head for you?”

--- AN: So here's a little more of this for Trauma Tuesday! The Reds are very concerned! I'm still having fun writing a Jason and Tim who get along and understand each other in a way the other 'we don't kill' Bat's don't, threats of murder and all.

Sorry if there are lots of mistakes (I don't need them corrected, ty), it's been a bad fatigue spell here. Still hope you enjoyed it and stay delightful, darlings!

(Oh, and there's another continuation to the OG threaded to it by chroma if you want a different take!)

Masterpost you can subscribe to, as I no longer tag people!

#dp x dc #batpham #trauma tuesday #city pigeons

2K notes · View notes

writteninkat · 5 months ago

Text

Visions | Diluc x Reader

synopsis: You love how much of a gentleman your fiance is. You swear on Barbatos. Yet, there are moments when you long for him to be more assertive, to take instead of asking, to lead instead of following, to claim instead of requesting. This desire consumes your thoughts so intensely that it even starts to invade your dreams.

a/n: so. :) heyyyaaa i'm baaack,, anyways ending was finished in a hurry cause im tired and i wanted to post this asap rocky k bye

wc: idk but it's pretty lengthy i think i yapped tew much

warnings: bondage, mentions of cheating(no one actually cheated ok?), smut, Diluc has a god complex

navigation

Today has been extremely draining for you; you took on four commissions, four bounties, traveled to Liyue, took on more jobs there—all you wanna do is get in bed with Diluc and sleep until you're forty.

As you make your way past the grapevine, you can't help the ominous feeling that you're being watched. No, followed.

You turn around scanning the area behind you with narrowed eyes. Before you let out a nervous breath, you catch a dark figure in the corner of your eye, causing you to choke up in surprise.

What the hell?

You narrow your eyes once more, slowly reaching for your sword strapped on your back. Just as you unsheathe the blade, the figure runs towards the woods, eliciting you to sprint towards them.

If they think you're someone easy to scare, then they've got you all wrong. Spooked, yes. Uneasy, for sure. But scared? Ha! You fought the Electro Archon. It'll take a lot for something to scare you.

You pass by multiple trees, jumping over bushes and frightened squirrels, leaping on branches and swinging yourself from tree to tree before dropping back on the ground.

Shit!

You feel sweat trickling down your spine as you heave for air, looking around you. You lost them. Maybe today's been more tiring for you than you thought.

You let out a sigh, squeezing the handle of your sword before clicking your tongue, disappointment seeping throught your body.

You turn around, about to take a step until you hear the swoosh of the air behind you, quickly followed by the swift sound of a blade hitting the bark of a tree. You jump, about to turn around but unable to. Confusion decorates your brows in a furrow as you look around, your eye catching the glint of the throwing knife. The blade is pierced deeply on the wood and as you continue to study it, you notice a piece of your clothing is stick with it.

Fuck.

As you busy yourself with trying to undo the knife, another knife is stabbed on the bark, this time, a hand is gripping the handle. You feel your heart sink as your eyes trail from the gloved hand, down to the covered forearm—this person must consistently work out as you eye the jacket struggling to keep itself from ripping when your gaze reaches their biceps. You flick your gaze up to their face, swallowing harshly at the sight of their white and gold mask that covers their eyes.

"Oh what the hell." You growl, trying to push your fiance off of you. "Diluc what the fuck are you doing? You gave me a fright!"

As you continue pressing your hands against his chest, your assurance slowly breaks apart. What's he doing?

"Move." You spit harshly, too tired to play his games.

Frustration begins to claw at you when your fiance doesn't move. At all. You let out a huff, about to give him an earful, but something catches your eye.

In the corner window of dawn winery in the upper floor, you see a shadow moving about. You can distinctly make out the ponytail, the body structure, and the posture.

Your eyes return to the person holding you against the tree, the feeling of fright comes back to you tenfold, engulfing in a tsunami of cold sweat and weakened limbs.

The person infront of you isn't your fiance.

As you mentally shake yourself, you carefully lift your leg, ready to kick him in the nuts but the stranger reads your actions, pressing his entire body against yours. You open your mouth, ready to scream but he covers it with his gloved hand, muffling your attempts.

He slowly moves his mouth near your ear, his rough breathing hot and harsh. "I love it when someone so strong trembles for me." He mutters, the feeling of his warm, wet tounge gliding over the shell of your ear causing you to shudder. He chuckles deeply at your reaction, softly nipping at the tip of your ear.

This is so wrong. This is so so wrong. Your fiance's right there and you're here shaking against another man pressed to you. Diluc is right inside your home and you—

"What's this?" The man's voice snaps you back into reality. Your worries caused you to ignore his other hand letting go of his knife and slowly make its way down your stomach, bunching your dress right above your legs.

"Such a whore." He whispers, forcing you to look down. Your breath shakes as you take note of the wetness on his fingers.

Pale. He has pale hands, so his skin colour must be on the paler side.

Everyone and their vision knows you're simply deluding yourself by making these observations. You're making grounds on why you're allowing this to happen. You're trying to reason with no one.

"You like this? You wanna be taken?" His fingers return to the drenched place between your legs and you try, you try so hard, to muffle your pathetic whimpers, but they all pour out as if they have a mind of their own.

His fingers move in tight circles on your clit. Your breathing turns harsher and harsher. Before you know it, your hips are rocking on their own and you've fisted the stranger's suit in front of you.

"Look at you using my hand to get off like a pathetic village whore." Your moans spill from your lips, your hips moving faster and faster as you try to seize your high. "Such a fucking slut, letting a complete stranger fuck you with his fingers when your fiance's right there."

That snaps you out of your lustful haze.

No.

You can't do this to Diluc.

You push the masked stranger's hand away, reattempting to shove him off of you again but he simply clicks his tongue, grabbing your wrists and pushing them on the space above you.

"Tsk tsk tsk." He shakes his head. "You get to have your fun but I don't? Seems a bit unfair to me." He frowns as you sneer at him.

"Let go of me and fuck off. Once I tell my fiance about this—"

"Diluc, will not be able to do anything after I've used you."

Oh great Barbatos above, forgive me for ruining my knickers at what this fucker had just said.

"He'll kill you." You spit, the glare you're wearing amusing the sicko even further. He grins widely, canines showing.

"And I still would have killed this pussy."

Oh, hardy har har. This idiot's got jokes.

"I'll join him and enjoy watching the life bleed out of you very, very slowly." You taunt, grinding your molars.

"And I'll enjoy watching my cum drip from this pretty pussy," You hear the clanking of a belt buckle and the familiar sound of a zipper being undone. "Very, very slowly." he whispers.

He uses his leg to part your thighs.

"What are you—" He cuts you off with the feeling of his bulbous head pressing against your folds. You stare into his crimson orbs before he pushes himself inside you, stretching you completely.

"Ah, fuck!" You cry out, euphoria slowly slithering itself through your vains, making their way up your head as the stranger slowly pumps himself inside you.

"This pussy's such a good girl, taking me, making room for me." He hooks your leg around his waist as he abandons any ounce of consideration he had for you and quickens his pace, his ungloved hand pressing and massaging and prodding—

"Oh Archon!" You hear your voice echo throughout the land and you scream a silent prayer for your fiance.

Diluc, my love, please forgive me. I tried to stop him, I swear I did! But he just feels—

"So good!" You yell out in euphoria, nearing the edge.

Just as you jump off of it, the stranger lifts off his mask. You're face to face with the same man you mentally apologized to, but your confusion is drowned in your pleasure.

"Cum with me my love. You can do it." He whispers as you press your lips on his, your moans and whimpers muffled against him.

Your back arches as electricity runs down your spine. Your walls clamp down on your fiance's dick as your head lightens. Your legs buckle, your body tembling against Diluc.

"Love... My love." He whispers.

"What?"

"Love, wake up. I think you have a fever."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Love, please."

Your eyes snap open as your breathing slowly calms. You're face to face with the familiar bedroom ceiling you know all too well. You turn your head to the side, seeing your fiance wearing an extremely worried expression.

"Love? Are you finally up?" He asks, helping you sit up. Once you're situated, he hands you a tall glass of water. "I think you have a fever my love. You've been huffing all night. Your drenched with your sweat and your face is as pink as it gets."

Oh, bless your fiance's poor soul. He thinks you have a terrible fever when in fact, you've been—

You stamp down on those thoughts, gulping down the glass of water. As you shift to put the empty glass on the table beside you, your face warms at the slick, wet feeling between your legs.

"Love?" Diluc rushes to cup your burning cheeks, his brows furrowed in worry. "I think you should take a break from commissions for a few days. It's stressing you too much." He takes the empty glass from your grasp and places it on the table for you.

"Let me wash the sweat off of you so you can sleep comfortably." He stands, holding out a hand for you.

You take it, letting him half-carry you to your shared bathroom.

Now, you know you don't actually have a fever. And you can walk by yourself perfectly fine. But your fiance's given you a perfect alibi to hold on to until you've thought of a way to tell him what actually happened—why you look like you're fighting for your life.

"I've asked the help to warm up the water for you. Let me help you wash up-"

As soon as he begins to slide your nightgown off of your shoulders, you catch his wrists.

Once this nightgown's off of you, he'll see everything. And you'll have some explaining to do. And you're not ready for any of that yet.

Diluc raises a soft brow questioningly.

"Can you-" You nibble on your bottom lip, feeling your cheeks warm up once again.

One order of well-done cheeks please!

"Can you please turn around? I'll get in the tub on my own." Your tone is as gentle as you can turn it.

Diluc looks confused, mildly hurt, but he hides his expression quickly as he turns around. "Grab onto me if you feel like you're about to fall." He mutters, pushing his hand out from behind him.

You smile at your adorable fiance, quickly taking your nightgown off.

Even if you can do everything yourself, his hand is reached out for you to hold on to. And it'll be very rude to turn down someone extending a helping hand. Literally. So you softly hold onto his hand as you lower yourself into the tub, letting out a relaxed sigh at the feeling of the warm water almost immediately washing away your stress.

"May I turn around?" Diluc asks. "Mmhmm." You hum, watching him slowly turn around.

His eyes don't drop to the water to try seeing what's underneath all the soap bubbles, he simply grabs the small seat beside the tub, a towel, and silently asks for your arm.

You feel like the world's most loved queen as your fiance softly scrubs the dirty and sweat off of your skin, slowly traveling from one arm to the other, massaging your shoulders and back as he goes.

"Lift your leg for me, love." He asks softly. You bite your lip at his request, remembering how dream Diluc lifted your leg to his hips.

Now, in no way were you a virgin. You've done it multiple times with your fiance. And it felt amazing everytime. And he was so nice, so sweet. He kisses you everwhere. Asks how you feel. Asks what you want, what you don't want. Prioritizes your pleasure before his.

There shouldn't be a 'but'.

But there is!

You wish your fiance was sometimes rough with you. You wish he was more assertive with you—like he is with the people under him. It's one of the reasons you love watching him work.

You just wish he'd force you. Even just once.

You wish he'd leave marks where people can see.

You wish he'd fuck you like you're nothing but a hole to him.

You widh he'd—"Claim me..."

Diluc freezes mid wipe, his gaze stuck on a spot on your forearm. "What did you..."

Your eyes widen at the realization at what you just said out loud. Your cheeks burn once again, but this time your nape, shoulders and ears warm as well. You press your lips together and drag your gaze down at the bubbles, not wanting to meet his gaze.

"Love."

You feel your heart beat at the back of your throat. You wish for the bath to swallow you whole. For time to stop. For the world to implode.

With fingers on your jaw, Diluc turns your head at angle where you'll have to look at him. "What did you just say?"

Your mouth opens and closes, you feel like a total idiot! You have so much to say in your head, yet when the opportunity presents itself, you've got nothing!

"Tell me." Diluc demands, your pussy tingling at his tone.

"I just- well actually, last night- here's the thing though-"

"Spit it out y/n."

Your eyes widen.

He's annoyed.

Diluc never calls you by your name unless he's categorically pissed. His gaze stays on yours, unwavering. You know he's getting an answer out of you one way or another.

Silently, you move towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You're soaking him with the soapy water, yet you don't have it in you to care. You press your cheek on his side, letting out a sigh.

Looking up at him, you pout. "It's just that... I had this dream..."

Diluc nods as he resumes with wiping your shoulder.

"And- and in this dream, I was walking back home, here, after a long day of work. So much commissions, so much bounties, I had to travel-"

"Your point, y/n." Diluc commands, his tone making you slightly jump.

"Well, before I could enter the winery, I felt as if someone was following me. And someone was!" You look at him and his eyes are still on your shoulder.

He's upset you're keeping something from him.

"And- and he... He pinned me to the tree and..."

Diluc freezes once more, his gaze finally settling back into yours. His red orbs burn with possessiveness and fury.

"You dreamt of another man?" He roars.

You think—he's already mad, let's just pour everything out.

"And- and he touched me, and one thing led to another, and he took me. He just took me and didn't ask, he didn't let go when I told him to, he just-" Your words stop at the sight of him extremely livid.

At who? At you? At the man in your dreams?

"I liked it..." You whisper.

Diluc grabs you by your arm and hoists you against him, forcing you to stand up. The water is swashing around you, his suit is wet, the room is colder with your wet body, your fiance's grip on your arms were tight. It didn't hurt, but you're also unable to pull away from him.

"Who?" It's such a simple question, and the answer isn't a problem at all. And yet, why does your future with this red headed man depend on it?

"You..." Your voice is small and soft.

Diluc looks as though he's about to pass out from relief. His grip on you loosens and you instantly miss it. You whimper against him, gripping on his suit.

"Don't let go. Do it again." You beg, receiving an inquiring look from your fiance.

"Hold my arms that tight again. Please. I-"

"Love, no. I feel like I was too rough with you. I'm sorry I-"

"You kept me on the tree with a knife. You pressed against me and you just took and took and took. You fingered me, with asking, you fucked me when I told you no, and I loved it, Diluc." You sound pathetic and foolish and daft, but you can't help it. You're begging this man to fuck you like how he did in your dream. You want that shit turning into reality. You're desperate for it.

"Love-"

"Master Diluc?" A muffled voice calls out before you hear two knocks. "The traveler is here to see you. She says she needs to speak with you about the Fatui."

You curse Barbatos and whoever maid was standing outside your door for making this opportunity slip past your fingers.

"Tell her I'll be right down." Diluc yells, his eyes never leaving you. "So you don't have a fever?" He asks, completely dismissing how you had just bared your darkest desires to him. It stings.

You shake your head, at a loss for words.

"Finish washing up. If you want, you can come to my office if you want to say hi to the traveler. I think she misses you." He says, pressing a sweet kiss on your forehead before stepping away.

You listen silently to his footsteps slowly drifting away, and with a click of the door, you're left alone with your thoughts. Your regretful, embarassing thoughts. You sit back down on the tub, bringing your legs to your chest.

What does Diluc think of you now? Is he upset with you? Is he grossed out? Maybe he regrets proposing...

You wallow in shame for a few more minutes, keeping the tears from falling as you finish scrubbing your body. You hate this feeling. You hate that you like being roughed up. You hate the fact that you don't stick to the norm.

"Fuck." You sigh, drained and defeated.

You drop the one last bunch of grapes onto your basket. Your fingers are stained purple and they feel sticky, but it's all worth it. These are the best grapes in Monstadt.

You pick up your basket, taking in a deep breath of the night air. The moon is big and bright tonight, so you didn't need to hassle yourself with bringing a lamp along with you. It's a Friday night, and as always, Diluc has dismissed the staff for the weekend. After meeting you, he believes his people should have the opportunity to spend an ample amount of time with their families.

After his talk with the traveler, he decided to go with her and check out the area where she mentioned a lot of Fatui activities were going on. You didn't ask any more details, you were still too embarassed. Now, however, you're regretting it. You're all alone in the house and you're unsure of when your fiance is coming back.

You enter the winery and quickly shut the front door behind you making sure to lock it. Placing the basket on the long dining table, you double check all the windows and back doors. After which, you move over to the office, letting out a relieved sigh to see all the windows are locked.

Storing the grapes in cryo-induced compartment, you blow out all the candles and turn off all the light before making your way upstairs, ready to wash up before calling it a day.

As you turn to the hallway, the sound of a glass shattering roots you in place. You turn to the side, looking down at the empty foyer.

Fuck. You don't have time to grab a weapon. Your gaze hands on a book. That'll have to do.

Slowly and quietly, you make your way down the stairs, keeping your sense sharp as you look around. The sound came from the kitchen. You bring your book up, ready to hit or throw it at anyone or anything that comes your way.

You arrive at the scene, taking note of the broken wine glass on the floor. You huff, bringing the book down before turning in your heels.

You'll clean that up tomorrow.

"Fucking mice." You mutter, climbing back up the stairs, quickly making a beeline to your bedroom. You quickly shut the door and drop the book on the nightstand, hurrying to the bathroom.

You feel fresh and clean and ready to go to bed. You wrap the towel around your body, hating how you have to leave the warmth of the bathroom and enter the cold stagnant air in your bedroom just for some clothes.

You make a mental note to ask Diluc to renovate your bathroom into a walk-in-closet/bathroom type. That'll make your life much easier.

Padding towards your closet, you begin to dig through your night wear, looking for something warm and comfortable. Just as you've picked out a sweater, cool air brushes on your back. You jump, turning around to see no one and nothing.

Nothing but your open bedroom door.

I closed that, didn't I?

Furrowing your brows, you make your way towards the door. Your defenses are brought up again. Just as you reach the doorway and are about to close the door, you notice the book you were supposed to use as a weapon.

It's open.

You take a step towards it, you notice a small circle on the page. Black ink aurrounds the word 'I'm' in the middle. Two red roses stick out, acting like bookmarks. You turn to the page of the top-most rose, seeing another word encircled. 'Watching'. And the second- 'You.'

Goosebumps erupt all over your body and a loud crash causes you to scream. Your head snaps towards the unlit hallway outside. You question yourself if it's even worth it to go down there anymore.

"What am I thinking?" You mutter to yourself.

I've taken down ruin guards and abyss mages and hundreds of hilichurls. A little burglar doesn't scare me. In fact, it should be scared of me.

With a huff, now feeling annoyed that your peaceful night is ruined, you grab the hand knife Diluc likes to keep hidden in your drawer. Clutching the towel against your body, you quickly but silently make your way down the stairs, looking around for anything amiss.

As you reach the foyer, you notice the office door's ajar. You look around before scurrying over to it, pressing yourself against the wall as you clutch the knife to your chest, the blade pointing away from you. With a deep breath, you kick the door open, your body ready to fight whoever broke into your fiance's office.

Once again, you're greeted with nothing.

Confused, you turn to search the rest of the house when another crash echoes throught the foyer.

Kitchen.

As you run towards the kitchen, you freeze at the sound of footsteps padding quickly on the second floor.

How the fuck...?

You switch your pursuit of the kitchen and start running towards the stairs. Halfway up, you notice something wrong. You turn your head slightly around, just to check, before something grabs you by your ankle, causing you to fall.

The corners of each step dig into your body painfully, but you ignore them as you twirl the knife in your hand, you swing the knife against whatever was behind you, turning your body along with it.

You come face to face with a cloaked stranger, who managed to dodge your strike. You lift your leg up to kick them off of you but they read your movements, gripping on your ankle and angling it to the side.

The stranger uses their free hand to grab onto your hand that held your knife, pressing it onto the step above your head as they press their body against yours.

"Get off of me you fuck!" You yell, your weak attempts at loosening your hand from their grip is overpowered by their strength.

The stranger chuckles—they chuckle darkly as they let go of your ankle and grab onto your other hand. A man. With one hand holding both your wrists, the other grabs onto your towel, forcing it down, exposing your breasts.

"What the fuck are you-" You're cut off by the feeling of their belt pressing against your naked cunt. Heat blossoms on your stomach.

Your hands are pinned above you, your legs are open with a stranger in between them, your body is barely covered by the flimsy towel, and said stranger is grinding on your cunt. Your now wet, hot cunt.

"Slutty fucking body's just begging to be fucked." The stranger growls, the timber of his voice deep. He continues to pull on your towel until it slips from underneath you.

"Let go of me! Do you know who's house you're in right now?!" You yell, your weak attempts at freeing your wrists pitiful, to say the least.

The stranger simply chuckles, and before you know it, the towel is restraining you instead of his hands. "Take this off of me!" You demand, sneering at the man.

"You're in no position to be in control now, slut." He spits, his free hand trailing down your breasts. He squeezes and fondles them before lowering his head, taking your nipple in his warm mouth.

Your teeth dig into your lower lip, you don't want this fucker to hear you feeling good about this.

His tongue swirls around your nipple, sucking on the puckered point before softly sinking his teeth on them. "Fuck!" You cry out, the sudden pain bringing heat down your cunt.

Not now, kitty! You can't do this to me right now!

The stranger chuckles, moving to your other tit, his movement similar, but this time, he bites roughly, making you yell out in pain. Tears sting the corners of your eyes as you look down to see him licking the red mark around your nipple.

"You sick fuck-" You're cut off once again at the feeling of his fingers against your sex. Your wet, hot, needy sex.

When the fuck did his hand get there?!

Your try wriggling your body from his, but he doesn't budge. His finger presses on your sensitive bundle of nerves, causing your lips to part.

Holy shit.

He draws circles on it, pressing the pads of his fingers harshly, intensifying the pleasure charging all over your body. Without warning, he presses two fingers inside, forcing your walls to stretch immediately.

"No! Fuck!" You cry out, begging your body to listen to you.

Diluc. Diluc! Where is he?!

The stranger continues to pumps his fingers inside you. The house echoes with your whimpers, your ragged breaths, and the squelching sound his hand and your cunt makes together.

Everything sounds so lewd.

And you fucking love it.

No! No I fucking don't!

"Diluc!" You cry out.

"No need to yell for me." The stranger pushes his hood off and you've never felt such immense veneration to see the familiar red hair and red eyes you've come to love so much.

That feeling is quickly replaced by a sudden burst of euphoria as Diluc pinches your clit, forcing an electrifying orgasm out of you. You throw your head back, your back arching as waves upon waves of pleasure roll out of you.

"Don't mind if I do." Diluc mutters, feasting on your tits as your orgasm rolls on.

You're left panting and light headed by the time the feeling ceased. "Love." You breathe out, "What are you doing?"

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" He asks, flipping you over to your stomach. He grabs your waist, pulling it up so your ass is in the air.

"Fuck, love. When you told me about your dream, I almost creamed my pants." He grunts as you listen to his belt buckle clanking. A great sense of deja vu washes over you.

"I've been holding back for so long." He lines his cock to your folds, pressing against them. "You have no idea how many times I fucked you and thought, how would my future wife look covered with my cum?"

Without warning, he shoves his cock deep inside you, all nine inches making it hard for you to breathe. He doesn't give you time to adjust as he withdraws and snaps his hips back.

"And of course, I held back." His thrusts are brutal. " What kind of fiance would I be if I treated my woman like a cocksleeve?" That's exactly how he's treating you right now.

"Fucking you for the sake of my own pleasure?" He chuckles, his fingers digging into your hips. "That'd be very selfish of me." His thrusts have become sloppy, as if he's now chasing after his high. The thought of him using you for his personal gain has your pussy fluttering around him.

"Oh you fucking love that, don't you? You love listening to me talk about making you my bitch." He spits, no, like actually spits on your back.

His fingers weave their way through your hair, gripping on them as he pulls your head back. "Arch the fucking back." He commands, your body following his words immediately. "Fuck yeah, baby. You feel so good right now." He mutters in your ear, his thrusts erratic and unsteady.

"Oh Archons! Let me cum, Diluc! Please let me cum!" You yell out, feeling yourself reach the edge.

"I'm your Archon now." He whispers, his other hand traveling down your cunt. "Cum for me, my little follower." He pinches your clit, an orgasm even more powerful than before shakes your body. Your moans are loud as they travel all over the winery.

"Holy fuck this body is made for sin!" He yells, bottoming out as you feel warm liquid being spilled inside you.

Diluc falls on your back, his ragged breath hot on the side of your neck. A few moments pass before he pulls out, taking you in his arms as he walks up the rest of the steps.

You mentally sigh at the thought of having to wash up again, but your heart is ecstatic right now. You eye the bathroom door, furrowing your brows when you pass by it.

"Where are we going?" You ask, taking note of how your hands are still bound together.

"We're not done." Diluc declares.

"We're not?"

He takes you out the balcony, setting uou down and undoing the towel and dropping it on the ground. "I wanted to watch the moon." He says, taking a seat. "You," he points at you, before point down. "On your knees."

You suck in a breath, slowly kneeling down.

"Take out my cock." He orders, taking off his gloves.

You follow his instructions, feeling your insides turn to jelly at how demanding your fiance is tonight.

If he keeps this up, I'm marrying him tomorrow.

You take out his cock, pumping it softly and slowly at first, unsure of what uou're supposed to do.

Diluc's the first and only guy you've ever been with. And given his track record, he's never ask you to give him head. Sure, you've heard your friends telling you about their experiences, but Diluc always prioritized your pleasure before his. He never found it necessary to ask you for a blow job, and so, you never learned how to.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" He raises a brow, "Use your mouth like the good girl you are."

He places a hand on the top of your head, softly pushing you down until your lips connected with his tip.

"You don't wanna disappoint your Archon now, do you?"

Oh, fuck.

You part your lips, the tip of your tongue softly flicking on his swollen head as your eyes flick up to meet his. Diluc grinds his molars, closing his eyes as his hand pushes your head even lower.

His cock pushes against your tongue, to the back of your throat. The reflex to gag hits you instantly and you begin to pull away, but your fiance's hand keeps you in place.

"Tap my thigh if you feel like it's too much."

Huh?

Without warning, he stands up and grips your hair, pulling you towards him as he snaps his hips forward. Your eyes widen as tears begin to form in the corners. Immediately, you think to tap on his thigh, just as he said. Right before you do, you look up at him, and you're struck.

The expression on him right now—so desperate, so needy. As if he wants nothing more than to fuck your mouth. As if uour mouth is his only salvation from a life of sin. His eyes are hungry and wanting, his hips fast and harsh, his grip on your hair tight and rigid.

"Shit, baby. This mouth is made for fucking." He grits out, his thrusts unyielding.

Your hands move up his thighs, running up and down before you dig your fingers into his skin.

"I said to tap, not to draw blood, love." He breathes out, mistaking your actions for a tap out. You quickly correct him by hallowing your cheeks, independently moving your head in and out.

"Oh fuck!" His moans are loud and desperate as he throws his head back, his chest rising and falling as he chases his second high of the night.

"So close baby, I'm so fucking close!" He yells out and you moan around his dick, making his hips stutter before he pushes his whole length inside, your throat muscles convulsing around him as you begin to push away, but he keeps you in place.

With one last loud roar, he spills inside you, slowly withdrawing his cock. Out of breath, he presses his thumb on your bottom lip. "Open." He commands.

You open your mouth, revealing his spilled seed inside.

"Swallow."

You swallow.

"On your knees, teary eyed, and looking up at me like I'm God." Diluc chuckles, softly pulling you up to stand. He captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue dancing against yours. You are completely and utterly in the man's command.

"I love you, baby." He whispers against your lips.

"I love you more, thank you." You close your eyes, smiling.

"I ahould be thanking you." Diluc chuckles, "How did it feel?" He asks, walking you to the bathroom.

"Mmmm..." You ponder, "I'd like to do it again."

"Really?" He raises both brows in disbelief.

You giggle, pressing a kiss on his cheek. "Mmhmm. I enjoyed it too much. Can't get enough of you." You mutter against his lips before turning to get into the tub.

Diluc fucks you roughly in the tub. He scolds you for being a tease. And again on your bed, for saying you can't get enough of him. And once more until you pass out, your body shaking, covered in marks and sweat and cum.

#genshin x y/n #genshin impact #genshin smut #master diluc #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc smut #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #diluc x reader #diluc fanfic #genshin diluc #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin x you

272 notes · View notes

iid-smile · 3 months ago

Text

can't get rid of me , fushiguro toji

sent straight from... hell, with a cigarette in hand , chapter two

the series masterlist. | previous | next

cw: smoking, profanity, money talk, odd conversation, just a lot of smoking

author's note: its hard trying to build on a characters story when you havent got it written out on paper (like me) lol font make this mistake because building as you go is painful

at last, night was just around the corner.

you put megumi to bed as soon as you could, despite the high risk that he'll be the one waking you up in the morning and not the other way around.

you're well aware you should quit smoking, for your sake and his, but you just can't. it takes so much weight off of your shoulders, even if it's just for a few hours, or maybe even minutes. it brings peace to your mind, but it's more like you can't think at all rather than having the negative thoughts pushed out.

and here, you find yourself around the back of the slummy apartment block, holding your last three cigarettes in your hand. multiple times have you peered up at your floor, checking through the window that the light to your son's bedroom remains off. you know that he's well-behaved, but sometimes kids just get up to the oddest things when their parents aren't around; if you even consider yourself worthy enough to be one.

the only lighter you have seems to have enough fluid, but it's hard to say when there's little to no lampposts in this area. on top of that, it's windy, so if the flame keeps blowing out... you're doomed.

and wow, would you look at that! every time you press on the pusher, the little beam of joy that sprouted out just had to be blown out. better yet, it's completely dead now. there's no store within a walking distance that you could reach in time, and you sure as hell don't want to be knocking around on doors when your neighbours know you have a kid.

addiction sure is scary.

"bloody hell..." you mutter, your head throwing back onto the concrete wall behind you. it hurt, but the rising irritation burning up in your throat was worse. way worse. perhaps this is a sign..?

"need a light?"

one of your eyes open and gaze off to the right, only to see a tall-ish silhouette of a man. your eyes squint, and a scowl quickly overcomes your face, ready to scare him off if need be. "who are you?"

"just call me..." the mystery man hums for a moment, hands in pockets as he steps closer to you. "kong. mr kong." you can tell he's got a smile, or what you'd (not) like to think is a smirk, and he comes up to lean against the wall beside you.

automatically, you shift over to create a wider gap between the two of you, and you cross your arms in defence. "well, mr kong, i don't appreciate you approaching me in the middle of the night."

"and i don't appreciate your attitude either, missy. for someone who looks so distressed, you really don't seem to want what you're craving, do you?" he says, his tone awfully amused.

is that a threat? sounds like a threat to you. and it definitely sounds like it's got multiple layers to it. "i don't want shit from you." you bark back.

"oh, really?" in the corner of your eye, you watch as he takes out a cigarette box, placing one in between his teeth. "then, don't mind me." he turns his head away from you, and a quiet flick flick commences. the thick gust of smoke wafting into the air was only a dream for you at the moment.

this guy... this mr kong guy... he's teasing you. he dares to come into your personal space, and rub it in your face that he's got a lit cigarette and you don't. something bubbles in your throat, like you're salivating at the thought of your mouth running dry. you have to. "wait, actually—"

"exactly." the tab in your hand was tightly pinched between your middle and index finger, and he takes it upon himself to press a fire against the butt. "let's handle this like adults, yeah?"

as anticipated, your face immediately lights up. this is a sign! weird strangers that approach you in the middle of the night are the best sources for a light! and he's got money too, you can tell by the design. chic and sleek, black, gold accents. rich guys usually go for things like that, right? with no ring on his finger, you're going to try butter him up.

you gaze at him, trying to find anything to talk about, but you could only notice his appearance. tall, stubble, suit. the surname kong doesn't really sound japanese... maybe he's not from here. that would be disrespectful to ask though. the sound of his sighs and mumbles catches your attention, and you immediately pounce at the opportunity. "are you stressed?"

"definitely. got a man-child on my hands. will not stop whining about how much he misses his wife." mr kong groans again, his free hand coming to loosen his tie.

you tilt your head more at him. "and the wife in question is...?"

"no, it's him that's away. locked away, to be precise." he's staring off at nothing, mindlessly repeating his actions. "he's always visibly disappointed when it's me visiting and not her. it's not like she ever will anyway, so he should give it up."

rapid fire questions are the way to go. "what did he go in for?"

"a lot of things." another pause as he takes a drag, sighing again as he takes a glance at you. "something a woman like you shouldn't hear." ...rapid fire was cut short.

rude and assuming... also, that's the second time kong guy here has said something suspicious. you can't even be mad, not when you want to milk some money out of him. hell, even that little light he gave you could've cost a whole ten thousand yen note. you've got nothing else to ask.

"got kids, by any chance?" he asks inquisitively, or maybe trying to fill for the silence, a question for you.

"a little boy. well... he won't be so little anymore soon." your eyes drifts down to the ground, and you fiddle with a little strand of hair that was within your sight. "he's only got me, i've only got him."

"and the father?"

and tell him that your ex-husband also coincidentally went to prison for bad things too? yeah, no. "...gone."

"unfortunate." mr kong seems to be trying to find something else to look at, having used up all of what was in front of him. "you live here?"

"yep." you shouldn't even try to deny it. surely he saw you glancing up at the windows multiple times, even before he came up to you. there's no point in lying.

when he turns back to you, his eyebrow raises; he's amused again. "you really make me pity you, missy. it's not often that i feel that way."

now he's looking down on you?

it's like as soon as you heard that word pity, you saw dollar signs blinding your eyes. "...think you could help me out? some bills and stuff?" shit, you're asking too early! so shameless about it too.

not only was your kiss ass attempt obvious, you're asking a random man that you don't even know for financial help. you're seriously vulnerable to scammers.

"sure."

"what?"

"i said sure."

"but i didn't even—"

mr kong chuckles, mockingly too. "money always comes with a price. just be ready for it." with that, he stomps out his used up cigarette, walking off as he lights himself a new one.

he's too trusting, or you're signing yourself up for something dangerous. either way, it's like he was aware you would accept no matter the conditions. does this guy know you already or what? and when the hell will you be able to see him again?

no... he's familiar.

taglist: open!

@iheartlinds @ssetsuka

110 notes · View notes

writeforfandoms · 1 year ago

Text

Let the Sparks Fly

Find my Ghost masterlist

For @glitterypirateduck 1-4-1 challenge! I used thunderstorm/rain, power outage, neighbors, and forced proximity!

You meet one of your neighbors in the elevator, and a storm knocks out the power at the worst possible time. At least your neighbor is nice.

Warnings: Power outage, total darkness, brief moment of panic, swearing, soft Simon, brief jumpscare.

Simon Riley x f!reader

Word count: 2k

The rain had chosen the worst possible moment to come, getting you before you could get inside. Your groceries were undoubtedly wet as well now. But you were almost to your building, walking as close to buildings as possible in hopes that they’d help block some of the rain.

Someone ahead of you turned and opened the door to your building, and your foot caught the door before it could close. He paused, glancing back at you over one massive shoulder. You didn’t recognize him, but that wasn’t exactly unusual.

You’d only moved in a couple months ago, you hardly knew all your neighbors.

Offering him a shy smile, you shuffled inside with your groceries, shoes squeaking slightly against the floor. You eyed the stairs for a moment and then shook your head. Nope. No way. You were taking the lift.

The man got to the lift before you, stepping in and moving aside. He was big, taking up a good portion of the space, but you still stepped in next to him.

The button for your floor was already pushed.

Your heart clenched. Okay. No big deal. He just lived on the same floor. That was perfectly reasonable, really. Trying to be sneaky, you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

Tall, broad. Black face mask, black beanie. Plain gray shirt and jeans. Seemingly paying you no attention at all, hands stuffed in his pockets.

The lift shuddered to a stop, and you tensed, hands gripping your bags tightly. You had just enough time to wonder if the lift had died (again).

The lights went out.

You froze. You’d never been overly scared of the dark. Cautious, yes. You’d suffered enough stubbed toes and barked shins to be aware of where you put your feet. But not usually scared.

This, though. This made you scared. Between the small space, the sudden darkness, and the stranger, you were scared.

Sudden light made you flinch, nails digging into your skin. But it was just the man’s phone, flashlight function on and pointed consciously down at the floor.

Oh. Of course. You didn’t have to stand here in the dark. Well, now you just felt foolish.

“You alright?” Dark eyes focused on you over the mask, though he kept his body half angled away from you, keeping the light from pointing directly at you.

“Yeah,” you agreed quickly, shifting your weight and rolling your shoulders. “Think the lift died?”

He grunted softly, looking back down at his phone. A few moments of silence, then he shook his head. “Power’s down,” he murmured.

“Great,” you muttered with as much sarcasm as you could muster. Well. Might as well put your groceries down. No telling how long this would take. You set the bags against one wall, stretching out your fingers. “Suppose if worse comes to worst, I can always eat the ice cream.”

A soft huff of amusement caught your attention, and you looked at your quiet companion. He glanced at you before looking back down at his phone, big fingers nimble as he typed something. Even in the relatively tight confines of the lift, he kept to his own space, conscious in a way so few men were.

“How long do you think this will take?” You couldn’t help asking. You knew he had no idea, same as you. You just… had to ask. Had to do something with the almost-jittery feeling. You weren’t claustrophobic, never had been, but this situation still grated at your nerves.

His gaze lifted to you again, dark eyes assessing, before he shrugged one shoulder. (One rather giant shoulder, you realized. He truly was massive, which made his self-containment all the more impressive.) “Got somewhere you need to be?” His voice was low, a little rough. Pleasant.

You blew out a breath, letting it puff out your cheeks along the way. “Just laundry,” you admitted dryly. “Very exciting, you know.”

He chuffed, not quite laughter but something close to it. “Only if you spot rats.”

“In this basement? There’s more than one kind of rodent down there.” You made a face.

He raised one eyebrow at you, wordlessly inviting you to go on.

“There’s this guy that lives on the third floor,” you started, leaning back against the nearest wall. “He’s kind of a rat. Fortunately I don’t see him often.”

He nodded once, seemingly amused. “I’ll keep an eye out for him,” he agreed, glancing back down at his phone. “Battery’s getting low.” The way his gaze flicked to you made you blink.

He was telling you specifically. So you had warning.

“Let me turn mine on.” You scrambled for a moment, fishing your phone out and flipping the flashlight on. His turned off a moment later. With a soft sigh, you gave up and sat on the floor. “Somehow all the stories about getting stuck places forget the sheer boredom aspect.”

He puffed out another not-quite laugh, crouching slowly across from you. Still careful to give you your space. “Lotta hurry up and wait,” he agreed blandly.

With a sigh, you gave up and started playing on your phone. There was nothing else to do, after all. The two of you were trapped until the power came back.

“How long have you lived here?” You chanced a glance up at him to find he’d sat down properly, back against the wall.

He shrugged, dark eyes once again focused on you, surgical mask obscuring most of his expression. “Why?”

“Haven’t seen you around before. Not that I know all the neighbors, or even everyone on our floor, I’m just curious.” You wrinkled your nose at yourself. Great conversational skills, there.

But he surprised you. “Not around often,” he offered, in lieu of an answer, apparently.

“Got it.” You forced yourself to straighten your back and shoulders, knowing from experience that you’d be sore later if you stayed slumped over. It had been nearly half an hour already, so you twisted a little to grab your groceries and check them.

The ice cream was definitely melting, but there wasn’t much to be done about that. Actually, now that you thought about it, you were cold too. Still damp from the rain, stuck holding still in this enclosed space… Damn. You were gonna catch a cold from this.

“Melting?”

You blinked, jolting back to yourself at the question, and nodded with a wry smile. “Seems that way,” you agreed, looking at the carton regretfully. “You want some?”

He shook his head. “Keep it,” he urged you softly.

You poked the carton once more and huffed, giving up on it. You’d have to get more ice cream later. The shiver caught you by surprise, making you huff again.

“Alright?” The question was careful.

“Just cold,” you admitted wryly. “I’m fine. Not dying of boredom yet.”

He snorted softly, head tipping away from you again.

Time passed slowly, dripping by, interspersed with your shivering and very quiet swearing as you distracted yourself. Your ice cream was definitely never going to be the same after this. Fortunately everything else should be fine.

Unless you died of boredom first.

Your head jerked up suddenly, eyes wide as you fixed your gaze on your neighbor. He looked back at you, alert, almost wary.

“So I just realized how rude I’ve been,” you said, embarrassment creeping through your chest and up your neck. “Haven’t even introduced myself yet.” You gave him your name, fingers tapping anxiously against your phone.

He was silent for a long moment, still looking at you. Then he nodded, just once. “Simon.”

You nodded to him and looked back at your phone. The battery was getting low, and you didn’t want to run it down entirely, just in case. So you sighed softly, resigning yourself to suffering in the dark for a while.

“Have to turn off my light,” you warned him, waiting for the nod of acknowledgement to actually do it.

The darkness was total, almost heavy with how instant it was. You couldn’t see a single thing. You blinked rapidly, knowing it wouldn’t help, but still needing to anyway. Right. This was fine. No problem. No big deal. You closed your eyes, since you couldn’t see anyway, and focused on breathing. Though muffled, you could still hear the rain very faintly, the constant patter soothing.

Now if only you weren’t so damn cold.

Time was weird and slippery as you sat there in the dark, huddled into yourself. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed without checking your phone, which you tried not to do. It wouldn’t help or change anything.

“Doin’ alright?”

The soft question nearly made you jump. Your head turned a little towards him, though you couldn’t see him. “Yeah.”

He paused, and something made you think he was weighing his words, rather than simply going silent. “Can practically hear you shivering, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, well.” You clenched your jaw against another shiver, harder than before. “Not exactly warm in here.”

He huffed softly. Sudden light from him checking his phone made you blink, the light extra bright now. “Still working on getting power back,” he reported. “Going back up around the city, so it’s only a matter of time.”

You blew out a slow breath, oddly touched. Had he checked that just for you? “Right. Thanks.”

Silence and darkness fell between the two of you again, and you curled tighter in on yourself. You were tired and cold and you really just wanted to be in your flat by now. Even if the power was still off, at least you could change into dry clothes and wrap yourself in blankets.

The lights in the elevator flickered a few times before turning on properly. “Finally,” you muttered, pushing quickly up to your feet, leaving your groceries on the floor for the moment. You’d grab them when the elevator started moving again. You noticed Simon getting to his feet as well, a little more slowly.

The elevator groaned, an odd noise you’d never heard it make before. You tensed, eyes going wide, darting to Simon for some reason. He was just as still as you.

The elevator dropped. Just a few inches.

But it was enough to make you shriek, curling in on yourself. A moment later arms curled around you, helping steady you even as the elevator car jolted, and then stilled.

“‘S alright,” Simon murmured, quiet and soothing, though he didn’t let go of you. Your shaking wasn’t entirely from cold.

You breathed in raggedly, fingers curling into his shirt, still shaking. “What…?” You couldn’t even finish your question.

“You’re okay,” he repeated, still soft, still gentle. He didn’t release you, his body heat bleeding into you, the security of his arms lending you courage. The elevator had stopped again, the lights weak but on. You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing.

The elevator started again, moving up, and you jumped. Simon didn’t say a word, just held you a little tighter. Normally, someone getting this close that you didn’t know would be alarming.

But it wasn’t. He wasn’t. You just felt… safe. And finally less cold.

“D’you want a cuppa tea?” you offered. Well. Blurted, more like. When he looked down at you, one eyebrow raised, embarrassment flushed hot up your chest and face. “Just tea! Really! I mean, I just got a new box, and you’ve been so nice, and I might still be a little bit freaked out right now and I’m rambling please tell me to stop–” You cut yourself off at his soft huff of laughter. This close, you could see the corners of his eyes crinkling with his smile.

“You need to warm up first,” he said, only releasing you when the doors opened. He scooped up your bags before you could and stepped out, you trailing in his wake.

“Right,” you muttered, chagrined. Of course he didn’t want to come hang out in your apartment. He hadn’t known you for long. Wow. Way to go, self.

“Which one’s yours?” He looked back at you, pausing in the hallway.

You considered him for a moment before you stepped in front of him, going to your door and unlocking it before you held out a hand for your groceries. “Thanks.”

He considered you for a long moment, not relinquishing your bags. Then he nodded once. “Give me ten minutes,” was all he said, bags changing hands before he strode down the hall.

You blinked after him. Ten minutes? Why…?

Oh. Oh.

He was saying yes!

…Shit you had to clean.

#141challenge #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #f!reader

554 notes · View notes

jokeringcutio · 1 year ago

Text

Request Fill: Tears ( Grabber x Reader )

AN: There are some Halloween-themed reader-inserts coming up in the upcoming days. Keep an eye on my account if you like my writing style.

Title: Tears Fandom: The Black Phone Pairing: The Grabber (Albert Shaw) x Captured! Reader Rating: Explicit! Warnings: Kidnapped!Reader, Dub-con/Non-con, Dacryphilia, Daddy Kink, Mocking/Cooing, use of 'Little One', Belt Whipping, Name Calling (Good Girl), Reader might have a praise kink. This is a prompt fill by one of my top supporters. If you want to show your support, you can always buy me a ko-fi.

The prompt (I also added the items you sent in your later message):

TEARS

The chilly air brushed past your legs, reminding you once again of how vulnerable you actually were. Lying there like prey, waiting for the monster to come again. You hated it, but until you figured a way out, you would have to do with all the lemons life decided to throw at you. Even if they came in the shape of a demonic stranger who hid himself behind masks and depravity.

You had grown tired of being tied to Albert Shaw's bed, having only an old oversized t-shirt that belonged to him to preserve some of your dignity. You knew that the cloth was a lie, though. Easy access, that was all it was. His hands would roam underneath as easily as breathing.

The cold metal of the handcuffs dug into your wrists as they kept you bound and vulnerable on the soft mattress. A contrast that was as big as your kidnapper’s personality: hot and cold. Evil and kind. An icy chill swept through the room, causing goosebumps to form on your skin and making the hairs on your legs stand on end. You had felt it before, and it usually meant the front door had been opened. He’s home. The thought sent a chill down your spine. Loud barking of the dog confirmed he had indeed returned from walking their round.

You held your breath and listened for the sound of footsteps. Was he heading your way? Or would he go to the kitchen first? The soft mumbles of the man reached you and you assumed he must be talking to his dog. Perhaps you were in luck and he’d leave you alone for a little while longer. But then the door creaked open and in walked Albert, wearing only the upper part of his mask. It concealed the top of his face, but his devil's horns no longer frightened you. What did send shivers down your spine, however, was the sight of his lips and the smirk that played upon them.

He showed off his sharp canines in a grin that spelled what was to come. He wanted to touch you again.

"So, how have you been, little one? Not too scared while I was away, I hope,” Albert drawled, his words dripping with sinister intent. Little, you huffed. He seemed to like to call you that way just to establish some kind of power balance between the two of you.

You tried to keep your breathing calm, though your heart raced like a wild animal caught in a trap. Your eyes followed his every movement, trying to anticipate what he would do next.

“I suppose you can show Daddy how much you missed him,” he continued in that overly dramatic theatrical voice. He moved to the side of the bed and carelessly dropped his cardigan at the end of the bed, just out of your reach. Teasing you.

But you knew what it meant.

His chest was already bare, had been so underneath the piece of garment. He’d never fully dressed after the last round, you realized with a shock.

"Please, don't..." you whispered, but your voice wavered with fear, betraying any semblance of bravery you hoped to display.

Albert chuckled, deep and throaty, sending shudders up your spine. "Now, now, sweetheart. You know I can't resist you when you're all trussed up like this."

You swallowed hard, your mind racing with thoughts of escape and retaliation, even though you knew it was futile. In this room, with Albert looming over you, there was no way out, no hope for reprieve.

As he approached you, you could see the hunger in his eyes and feel the weight of his gaze as it roamed over your body. It felt like a predator sizing up its prey, and you knew that soon enough, he would once again have his fill.

"Let's see how feisty you are tonight," Albert mused, his voice low and grating.

He approached you with a predatory grace, his hands reaching out like tendrils seeking to coil around your body. You hissed and tried to pull away as he ran his palms all over your trembling form, but there was nowhere to go, no escape from his touch.

"Still got some fight in you, huh?" Albert growled, growing impatient with your resistance. His palms slid down your naked thighs, calloused skin brushing past soft flesh. You felt his fingertips as they traced patterns down your sides, down your hips and legs, how his nails raked past your skin.

He moved his hands up and down a few times, admiring you, exploring you. He cupped your breasts underneath the shirt, tweaking your nipples between his fingertips a few times for good measure, having you bite back a moan.

A low growl escaped his throat, but you didn’t know whether it was a sound of approval or annoyance at the way you still tried to resist him. His hands ran down from your breasts, past your belly and to your hips where he got a good grip on you.

“Come on, sweet thing, open up.” His ice-blue eyes stared intently at you through the holes of the mask. His lips were curved upward in a grin full of malicious intent. You realized he wanted you to spread your legs, which you did, hesitatingly.

His one hand sneaked in between while the other pressed down on your thigh, forcing you to keep your legs spread open for him. He rubbed his thumb past your clit, little circular motions that sent jolts of pleasure down your core. You bit your lip in an attempt to keep silent. You didn’t want him to hear how he played you like an instrument, how much pleasure he sparked deep inside. But your walls slickened, so he must know. Your body never allowed you to hide its reactions.

“There,” he whispered, almost lovingly. And again. “There.”

Disgusted by the pleasure he made you feel, you tried to move your hips away from him. Just anything to relieve some of the tension you felt building up inside your core. He was working you towards an orgasm, you felt it. But you didn’t want to give him the pleasure.

Your reluctance didn’t go unnoticed, and with a sigh, he took his fingers from your clit. With a clap of his hands on his knees he pushed himself up into a standing position. Your heart pounded as he slowly removed his belt, the leather slithering against itself like a snake preparing to strike. You knew all too well how much he enjoyed using it on his victims, and fear tightened around your throat like a vice.

"Please..." you choked out, bringing your knees together to protect your precious core from his roving eyes. But your plea fell on deaf ears.

“Now, now,” Albert cooed, “Good girls deserve treats,” he said, swirling the leather band of the belt around his left hand, then pulled at the ends, showing the belt as it stood taught. You couldn’t help but feel how your eyes were drawn towards it. A clear signal that you were in trouble.

You trembled when he took a step closer towards you again. With his right hand, he let go of the belt, so the torturous item was only held in his left. But that right hand – oh. You dreaded to look at how he spread his fingers and then pushed down upon your tummy. His hand slipped lower and tapped against your knee.

“Bad girls need to be punished,” he said, huskily. “Now, open your legs again for me, sweetheart.”

You felt the pressure he gently supplied with his right hand on your knee and did as you were told, not eager to make him use force. As you lay there, trembling, you tried to think of anything but the man now looming in front of your cunt. You could feel his breath pass over your skin. Keeping your legs apart cost you real effort and you knew that he could tell you were trembling from fear. His thumb started to draw small circles on your thigh, effectively keeping your legs spread open with the comforting motion. As if it was enough to appease you.

“Ah there,” as he studied your exposed flower, wet and pulsing for his cock. “What a pretty sight, little one.”

For a moment, you glanced at him through your lashes, thinking that perhaps you had escaped the dance. Perhaps him showing off his belt had been enough; a reminder of a punishment you could have deserved if you defied him any further.

But you were mistaken.

Without a warning, he fiercely pushed your leg down with his right hand, his thumb no longer making soothing motions. Then raised the belt up into the air with his left.

You instantly knew where he wanted to strike.

No. Anywhere but there.

"Tell me you want this," Albert demanded, his left hand still up in the air. You could see the leather of the belt glisten teasingly, challenging you to defy. His knuckles had turned white, the leather straps were circled around them just once. His gaze locked on yours, unrelenting and unforgiving.

"Say it."

You couldn't bring yourself to utter the words, your defiance sparking something dark within him. With a sadistic grin, he struck down. A loud snap and an instant jolt of pain as he deliberately smacked it against your pussy. The pain seared through you, and you couldn't hold back your cries and tears.

"Say it," he ordered, his tone callous and cold. "Tell me you like it." He raised the belt again like a whip and panic seized through you. You struggled against your bonds anew and would have closed your legs if he would have so much as allowed it.

The words didn’t come out fast enough, and so he hit again. Your hands curled into fists and your back arched. The tears welled up in your eyes as an awful cry escaped your lips. Your pussy burned.

“You sweet little thing,” you heard the man coo, mockingly. That demon, you thought, as you tried to look at him through the tears in your eyes.

He fell silent and for a moment, simply stared at you. Just as you were starting to wonder why, a grin twisted his lips. “I love it when you cry,” his voice was low and husky, dripping with arousal. This whole thing got him turned on, you realized with a start. He derived pleasure from your pain. The bastard.

“But you know what?” he asked, voice sultry. You didn’t want to know. Your pussy still hurt and you did not think you could stand another blow. Tears were still rolling down your cheeks, you could taste them. “I love it even more when you take my cock,” Albert said, voice dangerously low.

“Now, I will ask you again,” the warning was clear. “Do you like what I am giving you?” He raised the belt once more, igniting fear deep inside of you. You wiggled against the bounds again but felt his burning hand upon your thigh, reminding you he had no scruples in hitting you once more.

"Y-yes," you gasped out, the humiliation burning as hot as the pain. "I like it."

He watched you, the mask hiding his true expression. But you could feel the anger behind it.

“Daddy,” he sounded furious. The calm kind of furious that made you know not to make any missteps again. “I like it, Daddy,” he said, waiting for you to repeat the words.

His eyes gleamed with depraved satisfaction. The belt was still raised dangerously beside his head. The hand he had on your leg, pushing them wide apart, pressed even harder, betraying his anger.

You bit your lip, your shame and self-loathing warring with your desperation to end the torment. You could try and struggle all you want, but you knew you could not break free. That this man had you. All of you. And he would take all that he craved. Finally, you gave in, whispering the word that sealed your submission.

"I like it, Daddy..."

The belt lowered., but you did not draw a sigh of relief. It was too early for that. Your pussy stung from the hideous slaps he’d given it. And yet, your core felt slick. As if your body actually wanted it. As if he was telling you to say what your body already betrayed. That you wanted it. Him. More.

As if he could read your mind, you heard his low voice grumble. “Tell me you want more,” the low command made you want to curl up into a ball and hide your vulnerable flower from his wicked belt.

“I need more,” you said, a breathless whisper as you finally dared to raise your gaze and look at him fully. He stood there, sweating, panting, obviously aroused. The tent in his pants gave it away.

“Need it,” he sounded pleasantly surprised by your choice of words. Then he dangled the belt towards your pussy, having the leather dip against your slick pussy lips. “Need my cock in there?”

You squeezed your eyes shut in shame and swallowed. A silent nod was your first reply, but you could tell by the way he pushed the belt against your slick core that it wasn’t enough. And so you opened your eyes again to caught his staring, waiting.

“I need your cock,” you said, chest heaving up and down rapidly. “Daddy.”

A pensive hum, voice dripping with lace and sin. “I thought so.”

With your eyes squeezed shut, you could feel it. First, he dipped forth. A warm, wet tongue licked the tears from your cheek.

Then, a low hum.

“Delicious, little one.”

The words made you flinch, though you tried to hide it.

The rough leather edge as it tapped gently against your clit. He was dangling the belt in front of your pussy, letting the leather slip past your sensitive slit, forcing a moan from your lips.

A low laugh escaped him, then he suddenly grew silent.

"Enough," Albert finally whispered, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he lowered the belt. The torment ceased, leaving you shaking and gasping for breath.

He moved closer, cradling your head in his strong hands, forcing you to look into his eyes. His grip was firm, almost painful, but it was the obscenities that escaped his lips that made you feel small and defenseless.

"Such a pathetic little thing," he sneered. "You're nothing without me, you know that?"

Tears welled up in your eyes once more, but you couldn't turn away from his piercing gaze. You tried not to look down at how he palmed his own hard cock through his pants while breathing heavily. You knew he was right, and it shattered what little dignity you had left.

“Fuck, those pretty tears of yours,” he murmured. You’d forgotten he liked it when you cried, and threw him an angry glare.

His laughter was cold and unforgiving as he undid his fly, exposing his hardened length. He looked down at you with predatory eyes, taking in your bound form, the bruises and welts that marked your skin. The tears in your eyes.

You saw him close his eyes for a short moment, throat bobbing as he swallowed, then opened his eyes again and let out a shivering breath. He studied you while he took his cock in his hand and though you tried not to look down at him preparing himself, you couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of his hard throbbing shaft. The skin was already purple, the veins angrily popping out, the head leaking in anticipation. You’d seen him hard before, but never like this.

"Please," you choked out, hoping against hope that some shred of mercy remained within him. But deep down, you knew better.

"Still begging, are you?" he taunted. "You never learn."

"Please don't..." Your voice cracked, fear making it impossible to speak more than a whisper.

"Too late for that," Albert growled, positioning himself between your legs. “In case you’d forget,” here he hesitated, letting the tip of his shaft brush threateningly past your entrance. “You’re mine.”

And then, despite your pleas for him to stop, his hips moved forward and he buried his cock deep inside - another act of dominance, another reminder of his control over you. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the pain, the humiliation, the utter degradation. But there was no escaping it, not when he held you so completely in his grasp.

You whimpered as you trembled underneath him, feeling how his length dipped deep inside, how all his ridges and veins stroked your walls and stole your slick. It was just one thrust to bury himself to the hilt and establish his dominance. But as he slowly moved out, you felt it: all of him. It felt ridiculously good. He was hot, warm, rigid, unyielding. His hips moved fiercely against yours, working his way back into your throbbing pussy.

You felt his teeth as he grinned against your neck while his grip on you tightened.

"Oh, that is so good, little one," he breathed against your ear as he thrust into you, each movement calculated to remind you of your place in his world.

He was ravishing you like a man starved. You could feel it, the passion with which he moved his hips against yours and how the head of his shaft battered your insides without mercy, spurting pre-cum along the way. He slipped from your core way too easily, the way now lubed with a mixture of your combined juices. He let out a laugh, making you flinch for his lips were still near your ear.

“You’re so, so wet,” he breathed, the puff of air sending goosebumps to form on your skin. You closed your eyes and tried to block him out. But he slid in and out of you smoothly, lubing your walls, hitting a spot inside that made your pussy quiver around his hard cock. At first, when he took you, the pain threatened to consume you, each thrust like a burning dagger inside your already bruised and battered body. But as he moved within you, something began to change – the fear and disgust that had been your constant companions began to ebb away, replaced by a twisted kind of pleasure.

"Fuck... why does it feel so..." he gasped out, and you had to agree. You were unable to comprehend the sensations coursing through you. The agony was still there, but it was being overtaken by waves of ecstasy that left you breathless and wanting more.

Without a warning, your walls started to clamp down hard, milking his cock hard and eager, drawing a loud moan from your lips that you were too late to withhold. Your fingers curled above your head, your whole body twisted in the throes of desire.

And above you, thrusting still, your masked captor grinned down at you. A droplet of sweat fell from his head upon your half-clad chest – the shirt had ridden up to reveal your breasts.

“That’s it,” the words were vague, blocked out by the bliss of your orgasm. You felt how his fingers dug deeper into your skin, how his length kept battering your overly sensitive walls as he worked himself towards his own. His thrusts became erratic, and just when you thought you could take it no more, he slammed inside of you hard and buried himself deep. You felt the pulsing of his shaft and the hot warmth that filled you deep inside your tummy.

You caught your breath, body sensitive around his twitching cock. That’s when you heard it, the whispered words near your ear. You felt Cheshire grin against your neck and felt how the edge of the mask pressed painfully against your cheek.

"You were made for this," Albert hissed, his fingers biting into your hips hard enough to leave bruises in their wake. "You were born to be my good girl, weren’t you?"

His words should have repulsed you, sickened you to your core. Instead, they ignited a spark deep within. Yes, you thought. You felt like you were. Your body was thrumming pleasantly, the afterglow of the orgasm making you feel dozy and warm and – not yourself.

"I know," you admitted, your voice barely audible through your tears. You weren’t quite certain if you said it just to please him and save yourself from his ire any longer. You were too tired at this point to fight. "Daddy."

"Good girl," he murmured, propping himself up on his elbows, cock still softening inside your core. His words echoed hauntingly through your mind. You were born to be my good girl. You were made for this.

You glanced up at him to meet his blue eyes, cold and hungry and devious. They rested upon you, piercing you, making you feel as small as he always wanted to make you believe that you were. You could see the darkness swirl within them. Something that you couldn’t name. He wasn’t done yet?

“Tell me what you are," he commanded, his voice low and dark, filled with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

"I'm... I'm yours, Daddy," you whispered, feeling his softening cock twitch at your answer. “I am your good girl.”

"Damn right, you are," he growled. And then, as if nothing had happened, as if the world hadn't just shifted beneath you, he leaned down and pressed a soft, tender kiss to your forehead.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle now. And before you could fully process what was happening, he slid down beside you on the bed, cock slipping out of your core with a squishy sound, his arms wrapping around you in a hold that was almost – almost – comforting.

You felt Albert's fingertips tracing the delicate skin of your bare arms, feather-light touches that sent shivers down your spine. His breath caressed your ear as he whispered words you'd never expected to hear from him.

"Such a beautiful girl," he murmured, his voice low and sultry. "Look at how well you take what I give you."

Your heart pounded in your chest, the sweet words and gentle touches somehow more terrifying than the violence that had come before. But there was something intoxicating about it too, a heady mixture of fear and desire that made it impossible to look away.

"Tell me you love it," he demanded, his fingers tightening around your arm. "Tell me you need it just as much as I do."

"I-I love it," you stuttered, feeling a flush of shame rise in your cheeks. "I need it, Daddy."

"Good girl," he purred, his grip on your arm relaxing as his lips brushed against your neck. The sensation was intoxicating, overwhelming; your world narrowed down to the feel of his mouth on your skin, the warm breath tickling your ear.

"Please," you whimpered, unable to hold back any longer. "Kiss me."

He chuckled softly, clearly pleased with your submission. "As you wish," he breathed against your lips before capturing them in a passionate kiss.

It was a kiss unlike any other, a maelstrom of raw emotion that left you reeling, desperate for more even as you knew you should be pushing him away. But in that moment, wrapped up in Albert's warmth and the sweet lies he whispered into your ear, you couldn't help but feel comforted and loved.

And so you let yourself fall deeper into the darkness, knowing full well that there would be no return.

~ Fin ~

AN: Hope you enjoyed it :) In the days running up to Halloween, I will be posting a few Halloween-themed reader inserts. Some are smutty, some are dark, some or sugary sweet.

#albert shaw #albert shaw x reader #the grabber x reader #black phone 2022 #black phone reader insert #older man x younger woman #kidnapped!reader #grabber x you #black phone grabber fanfiction #grabber x reader #prompt fill #request fill #reader x villain

520 notes · View notes

thisapplepielife · 2 months ago

Text

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up Anniversary challenge.

Out of Sight, Out of Mind

Prompt: Anniversary | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Future Fic, Eddie Munson Lives, Or Did He?, He Definitely Did Right?, A Glitch in the Matrix, Shifted Timelines, Parallel Universes, Sliding Doors

"What are you doing?" Eddie asks sleepily. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the familiar shape of Steve crossing along the foot of bed, heading towards the window.

That isn't unusual. If Steve hears a siren, or a dog barking, anything, he crawls out of bed and heads to the window to look. But tonight, Eddie hadn't heard anything.

"Huh?" Steve responds, from bed, next to Eddie.

Eddie looks again, expecting to see Steve bent over at the waist, looking out the window, but there's nothing there. Instead, Steve's in bed, and has clearly been asleep.

Eddie swallows. Maybe he was dreaming, "Sorry. I think I was dreaming," he says, hoping he can convince himself of that. He looks at the alarm clock on the nightstand, and it's just after three.

Steve chuckles, voice rough with sleep, and pulls the comforter up over his shoulder.

Eddie thinks, weird.

But then it continues happening.

All day, he's felt like there's someone just out of his line of sight, and that person seems a whole lot like Steve. Eddie isn't scared, per se. He's unnerved, for sure, but it feels like Steve. Not a ghost or a demon, or anything sinister.

It's just like a second version of Steve is moving around the house, dancing along his peripheral vision, and Eddie is forced to only observe.

It's not until later that he realizes the date: March 27th, 2006.

It's the anniversary of his near death in the Upside Down. That can't be a coincidence. That's the day he was sure he was dying, if not already dead, and then he suddenly wasn't. The bites weren't that bad. All superficial. He barely even needed any medical attention at all.

Dustin had overreacted.

And, yeah, it felt hazy at first, but they all just blamed it on the stress and adrenaline he'd been pumped full of. Blamed it on the near death experience that wasn't actually that near death at all.

And now, he's seeing an echo, a ghost, of someone very much alive.

There's a glitch in the matrix.

Like when you see two people, strangers, on public transportation wearing the exact same shirt, sitting one row in front of the other. Only, Eddie's seeing Steve. A different version of Steve.

Eddie does a deep dive on the internet. Decides it's not a glitch in the matrix at all. Instead, he's pretty damn sure he's shifted timelines from the one where he died, to this new one where he didn't, and now they're bleeding together. All these years later.

Steve listens, patiently, and then kisses him on the top of the head, "Honey, I was there. You lived. I promise. 'Twas barely a scratch."

Eddie nods.

Of course. Of course that's true.

But he thinks maybe the other outcome was true, too.

Shadow Steve is getting more vibrant, and now Eddie can follow him around the house. Not really able to look at him straight on, but if he keeps the corner of his eye trained in his direction, he can see him for longer stretches.

He's the same, but different.

Quieter, sadder. More alone.

And there's no Eddie there. Eddie is 100% sure of that.

He's gotta do something about this.

Eddie's sitting outside of Nancy's office when she comes out of the door.

"Eddie!" she says, surprised, but happy to see him. He's about to rain all over her parade.

"I'm dead. I'm in the wrong timeline," he says, and her face falls. She reaches out, and puts her hand on his forearm.

"C'mon," she says, and he gets in her car, and looks down at his hands.

"What's going on?" she finally asks.

"I'm seeing Steve, in the house," he explains, and she raises an eyebrow, and he laughs, "Not that Steve. Not my Steve. But he's there, too. He's good," he promises. Because he knows she'll worry.

"Start from the beginning," she urges, and he does. Telling her everything.

"It's just a glitch in the matrix," she assesses, and he shakes his head.

"It's not. It's too frequent. It wasn't a one and done deal. It wasn't a trick of the light, or a shadow. He's there. Just outta my sight. Like he's in a parallel universe."

"And you're sure it's Steve? Not something Upside Down-related?"

"It's Steve. I'm not scared of him. Because it's Steve."

Nancy follows him all the way back to Hawkins, then sits on the bed beside him.

"Eddie," she says, and he shushes her. Taking her cheeks, forcing her to look in the direction he wants. It doesn't take long.

"There!" Eddie says, and Nancy gasps.

Fuck. He was kinda hoping he was just losing his mind.

"You can see him?" he asks.

"I can see him. Barely. Out of the corner of my eye. It's definitely Steve."

Eddie sighs, "Told you. What the fuck do I do now?"

Steve can't see him. Eddie can. Nancy can. Robin can. Dustin can.

But, Steve? He just can't.

Nancy thinks it's because it is Steve. The same Steve. Just minding his own business in another timeline, that's now somehow bleeding into theirs.

"Do you think this is lingering weirdness from the Upside Down?" Eddie asks.

"If it is, we should get El," Dustin suggests, and they all agree.

El takes one look at him, "That is Steve."

"Yes, we're aware," Eddie says, "how do we merge the two?"

"You cannot."

"Can we at least close the damn curtains?" Eddie doesn't want to keep seeing this Steve.

El thinks about that, "Maybe."

She forces Steve to hold her hands, and while reluctant, he's willing. For Eddie.

It's quiet, then Steve says, "Oh, whoa. That's me." Then, "Tingly."

And Shadow Steve fades away. Disappearing, like he'd never been there.

"Is he okay?" Eddie asks. He doesn't want any version of Steve to disappear.

"Yes. Now you cannot see him. Not gone, just invisible again."

"Out of sight, out of mind?" Eddie asks.

She nods, "Exactly."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #anniversary #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles #steve x eddie #steddie fanfiction

79 notes · View notes

balkanradfem · 4 months ago

Text

I've been talking about my new swimming spot and how I had to get away from my last one because it became contaminated, but now I have to talk about it in more detail because I am getting stressed, and too anxious to actually go swimming.

So the reason I left my last, super convenient swimming spot, is that it became a spot where a small group of m*n frequented; and the thing is they didn't harass me right away. There are little benches on top of the riverbank, under some trees, and sometimes when I went swimming, there would be people on the benches, just resting and talking, and I would politely greet them and go down the stairs, and we didn't bother each other at all. Until, at one point, whenever I would get into the water, a male from the group would suddenly also decide to get into the river, at which point I would swim to the other side of the river, where I would have peace.

That worked the first time, but the second time, a m*n followed me down into the river, with two big dogs (they're as big as me), and when I swam to the other side of the river, he also swam to the other side. I felt uncomfortable, but decided to linger there for a bit, and then swam back – and he followed me immediately. At this point I started to get away from the swimming spot, into the deeper water, and then one of his dogs followed me and started barking at me, so the m*n also followed the dog, and got uncomfortably close to me.

I want to stress at this point that I'm not wearing a swimsuit or a bikini, I am in big black swimming trunks that go all the way down to my knee, and a sleeveless shirt which I appropriated for swimming because the outfit makes me very comfortable, and un-self conscious. The outfit screams 'nothing to look at here'. And I'm struggling with low weight right now so there's truly nothing interesting, I am looking as unappealing to males as it is possible to be. Even my hair is tied up and wrapped in a bandana. He looks like he's in his late 50s or early 60s, he's three times my size, and his dogs are about as big as I am. There is no legitimate reason for him to linger anywhere close to me.

As I was in my deep water spot, and he wasn't leaving, I started to get terrified. I was looking for a way out of the situation, I was starting to contemplate that he might assault me, because he kept following and cornering me, and even though the place was kinda public, there was nobody nearby. I waited for a moment where he got distracted with one of his dogs, and escaped the scene.

I was too scared to ever go back to this spot, so I found a new one; the problem is my new spot is not exactly far away from the old spot, just much more inconvenient to get to. No stairs, you have to wade trough tall grass and get a bit prickled by the nettles and thorns. But I don't care, I'm feeling safe with the nettles. So yesterday I went swimming to my new spot, and as soon as I entered the water, I realize the same guy with his dogs, is at the old spot, and I ignore him, I'm far enough that he can't quickly or inconspicuously approach me. So I'm swimming to the other side of the river, swimming back, looking at ducks, letting all of the little fish snack on my dead skin cells, and a few times I just offhandedly glanced at his direction, just to make sure he was still there. And every single time, he's staring right at me. He was looking at me when I was entering the water, he was staring in my direction when I was swimming, and when I was just sitting in the water. He was staring after me when I was leaving as well.

That guy seems to just live at the river, he's in there almost every time I go swimming, and at this point I'm scared to go back. Why would you go to the river and then keep your eyes completely glued to another person also swimming there? From my point of view, I was being super cool, making sure us two strangers each have our own private swimming spot, so we can both relax and not be bothered by other people around us. But why is he staring at me?

At this point I can't rule out the possibility that he's planning to assault me and is monitoring my movements to figure out where and when it would be the easiest to do it. There's no way he could be staring at me for no reason whatsoever, even when it's making me obviously very uncomfortable, to the point where I will go to a different place to swim. Apparently me just moving to a different spot isn't enough. And this isn't the first time I've gotten attacked by a male in the river, I once got chased by someone to the point where I had to hide in a corn field to get away.

So now I am sad and wondering if I'll get to swim again this summer. All other access points are either crowded or far away from me, and I hate crowds. I need a no-m*n-summer. Just delete them. Female only summer. I can't deal with this shit anymore.

#stranger danger #radical feminism #female only summer #let me swim

119 notes · View notes

lidiasloca · 3 months ago

Text

delicately; part three (cassian x reader)

summary: when cassian meets reader, he doesn't think past her privileged life. but what if there is more behind her appearance? what if, who she really is, is meant to meet with him on a cold night at the court of nightmares for a reason?

(angst)

CHAPTER THREE

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

Feeling tears roll down your face, you jump into his arms.

Of course he knows.

Your mate.

You gently pull away from the tight embrace. You have to find his eyes. Find something that can hold you to this earth. And so you watch each other. Silent, no words needed.

At least no coherent words. “We are mates,” you mumble in disbelief, the words running from your mind to your lips.

“We are,” he smiles lovingly.

You smile back. “So what now?”

He lets out a youthful laugh and sets you down on the floor delicately. He turns his face to you again, and his expression is softer, as if he’s thoughts had met yours.

You are mates. You are bounded. Together.

“Well, I think now we have forever,” he states evidently.

Forever.

You beam, shocked in a thrilling and heart-melting feeling. ‘Forever’ is too serious to be in the same sentence with ‘Cassian’, a male you barely know.

Where does he live?

What’s his favorite color?

His favorite animal?

You realize you had lost yourself in your stupid thoughts when his rough hand softly takes your chin to look up at him instead of the ground.

He reads you well. And you read him well, as if you both knew your souls like the back of your hands. And you find peace in that knowledge. You find peace in the reassuring look in his eyes.

You could memorize all the trivial facts and characteristics of a person and never know them as well as you know a stranger whose soul is intertwined with your own.

Yes, it’s scary. But it is also exciting. You will have forever to get to know him better.

You cannot wait to start eternity with him. With Cassian.

‘We have forever,’ he had said…

“Maybe we should start with something simpler,” you reply playfully.

He chuckles. “Yes. You are going to meet my family first.” The male must have sensed the anxiety in your eyes, for he quickly adds, “Is that not reasonable? You have not to-”

You nervously excuse yourself, “It is - No! It’s more than reasonable. It’s just that… Well, what if they don’t like me?”

He bursts out laughing.

You just stare at him. Wordless as you take in his scoffing. It’s hard to keep a serious look when his laugh is so contagious. Nonetheless, once he notes your straight face, he tries to cover his smile and explains, “What - you scared me there. I thought you didn’t want to meet them. I feared for your life. And mine.”

You open your mouth, astonished, waiting for his teasing smile. No smile. “You feared for our lives?”

“My family would do terrible things if I didn’t present my wife properly to them. The High Lord is not to be messed with. And his cousin…” He pretends to cover his face in fear. “And don’t get me started with the spymaster. You’ve probably heard of Azriel - be careful with that one. It’s a relief you were just being a timid little thing about meeting them.”

What?

Your mate considers his family the High Lord and his cousin, and a Spymaster. His family is not blood, you guess, and you totally understand. You don’t even like considering your father by blood your family, true, but it’s still odd. You make a mental note for later to ask him about it. When the proper moment comes.

Because now your thoughts are elsewhere; in teaching your mate manners.

He tries really hard to contain his laughter when you pretend to be furious. Maybe you are a bit. “First. I hope you are kidding about your violent family. Second. Timid little thing? Dare you speak to your mate that way again, and I will be the one doing terrible things.”

“I was going to go for timid dork but you-”

“Cassian,” you bark as you poke him in the chest. He is unmoved. And giggly.

“Sorry,” he mutters, still smiley. “I won’t call you a timid little thing again, if you agree to meeting my family.” You smirk triumphant; you can accept that. “Tonight.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “What? Tonight?”

“Tonight,” he replies plainly. “I fly you to our house. I show you the place. I call my friends when you are ready. We eat dinner. I take you to my room.” You turn visibly read as he continues. “And I read you a chapter of a book - what in all hells were you thinking about, love?” he asks loudly, making you want to dig yourself a grave and stay there.

You will strangle him.

But before the opportunity is given, he takes you in his arms, lifts you up and looks at you intensely as you swallow a panicked scream.

“Say yes,” he pleads.

“I-”

“Please, love.”

“Yes.”

And strong wind hits you in every centimeter of your skin as he takes off flying.

…

“I will surely lend you a dress. And lucky for you, I know just which one will be perfect for you,” the gorgeous female tells you as she leaves for said gown.

It’s been about ten minutes since you arrived to the Hose of Wind. Ten minutes since Morrigan befriended you and treated you like you had known each other for a lifetime.

You enjoy her presence. But not enough to ignore that you miss your mate, who had stayed in the living room to wait upon the others' arrival. The though of yet more people to meet makes you again anxious. They are not just people. They are Cassian’s family. If you made them hate you…

“They will adore you,” Morrigan says as she returns to you, now with a stunning red dress in her hands.

“What?” you mumble.

“Azriel and Rhys. They will love you.”

You prayed they were as kind as Mor. Half as decent as her was even enough.

“How do you know?” you ask, trying not to sound as desperate as you feel.

“Because they love Cassian, and you are Cassian’s mate. They will surely love the best thing that’s ever happened to his best friend.”

Oh. Well, that is reassuring. You make sure to smile thankfully at her as she hands you the gown. You’ve never worn anything like that before. Nothing so fancy or eye-cathing. But the dress is a ruby red too familiar to reject.

“Thank you,” you tell her, both for her words and for the dress. You love this girl so much already.

She leaves you alone in the room so you can change, and in the silence you think about how you have never felt so accompanied. Cassian and Morrigan already fill a whole gap in your heart. Never had you befriended anyone, thanks to your father’s strict rules. Never had you actually bonded with anyone.

Anyone but your mother.

You had tried to avoid the though, but guilt quickly creeps in your heart. You have left your mother in that place alone. No - even worse - with your father. The thought of what your father would do to you when he found out you were missing.

You felt tears run down your cheeks.

Another perfect moment ruined by the though of your father. Guilt quickly changed to fury. No. He would not ruin one of the few good moments in your life. You have found your mate. You are about to meet his family, and you will do it with a smile on your face. Not your father on your mind.

You are decided when you put on the dress and walk to see your reflection in the mirror.

“You look…” You swiftly turn to the voice. Cassian looks, and looks, and keeps looking as you turn more and more red under his piercing eyes. “Y/N you look…”

“Never had you for a shy lover,” Mor says as she appears on the door, next to Cassian. He turns to her with an exhausted look, yet the surprise and tenderness of a second ago is still in his eyes. “You look lovely, Y/N,” the female says.

You don’t look at her as she approaches to fix your hair gently. You only have eyes for Cassian. And he is just as lost in you.

“You do,” he finally corroborates, but it’s almost a whisper.

“Thank you,” you murmur, not helping the timid smirk on your face.

Morrigan sighs at the two of you, her eyes going from you to him again and again, as if in disbelief. “Girl, I’ve never seen Cassian act so silly.” Then she leans in and whispers for only you to hear, “You really have him wrapped around your finger.”

You smirk as you watch Cassian’s eyebrows rise in question. But it’s your secret. You turn to Mor and grin at her mischievously, liking this new playful part of you.

She is walking out the room when she turns and says out loud, “Be sure to use this to your benefit.” And she winks exaggeratedly.

At that, Cassian’s eyes find yours in a silent question. But you nonchalantly ignore him and walk to him to the door.

“Have they arrived?” you ask, but the nonchalance is now gone.

“Yes,” he answers. His eyes turn sympathetic when he takes in your uneasy demeanor. He moves his hands to hold your face lovingly. “Do not worry. I didn’t mean what I said about them being so violent,” he jokes.

You chuckle softly, the nerves dissipating a bit. “I know.”

“Well, at least I hope they aren’t tonight,” he teases.

You smack his arm, shushing him as you laugh. “You are a dork.” He feigns indignation, and you shake your head in exasperation. “Stop being stupid and present me to your family,” you order, taking his hand, needing the reassuring feeling of having him close.

At your words, his eyes spark with joy. Presenting you to his family is not just something big for you. You realize it is very important for him to.

You are his mate.

Then you think about how you don’t have a family to present to him. And that breaks your heart. You know your mother would love him, she would love anything in this world that could make you happy, but with your father at her side, there was no chance you could present Cassian.

Your mate senses your momentarily sadness, and yet again asks you only with his eyes. You dismiss his question with a genuine smile as you start walking to the living room. You deserve to enjoy this moment. You deserve to let go of your father for a night and only fill your heart with love for Cassian.

Love and nervousness.

“Y/N, these are Rhys and Azriel…”

YES we are back with Delicately. thanku for reading and especially for waiting so long. but better later than ever. love to hear your thoughts on my fics and love to see my work being read so yet again THANKU.

CASSIAN MASTERLIST, WHAT WOULD THE LORD OF BLOODSHED THINK IF YOU DIDN'T CLICK AND READ ABOUT HIM? DON'T HURT HIS PROUD AND VAIN HEART :)

@justdreamstars

-Characters by Saraah J. Maas

#cassian x reader #cassian angst #cassian #cassian x you #cassian acotar #cassian fic #acotar fic #cassian fanfic #cassian x y/n #cassian fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar

76 notes · View notes

thezombieprostitute · 2 months ago

Text

Tech Tuesday: Syverson

Summary: With Syverson finally out of the army, the two of you are looking at creating a stable life for yourselves.

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, Mild/Implied smut. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Established relationship. Reader is plus sized female. No other descriptors used.

Part 2

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

"Thank you, again, for doing this, Boss," Jake shakes with excitement.

"It ain't a problem," Syverson assures, trying hard not to laugh at Jake's Tygra costume. His wife, Sunshine, had made up a family costume based on the 80's cartoon show. "Besides, it gives me an excuse to bring my own ladies into the office." He gestures to his office behind him where you and Lily were sitting. "And you're sure the twins ain't allergic to dogs?"

"We're sure," Jake promises. "My sister's dog has yet to produce a negative reaction from either of them."

"Glad to hear it," Syverson nods. "An' Lily's really good with kids but I'll still be keeping an eye, makin' sure she doesn't get too excitable. Don't wan' her licking the kid's makeup and gettin' sick."

"Oh, no worries on that. Sunshine and I are the only ones wearing makeup." Jake chuckles, "toddlers and face makeup don't mix."

Syverson lets out a hearty laugh, "good to know."

"I'll go get Sunshine and we'll get started."

Syverson shakes his head and smiles as he gets back to his office to join you and Lily.

"Thanks for helpin' out with this, Darlin'."

"I wouldn't miss it," you exclaim. "We don't get trick or treaters around the apartment so this will be the most I get. And they said they're okay with taking photos?"

"Yup," Sy confirms. "Especially if Lily takes a likin' to 'em."

Outside the closed office door you can both hear little exclamations and high pitched laughs that could only be from toddlers. You start giggling in anticipation while Lily tilts her head at the door. Sy pets her, accompanied by reassurances that everything's okay. She's so good with strangers but hasn't had much experience with little ones so this is a good opportunity to introduce her, get her acclimated to behaving around little ones. Not that you and Sy are looking at having little ones any time soon, but it is something you both want. And the sooner you get Lily acclimated the better.

There are a few soft knocks on the office door and Lily lets out a soft bark. Her bark sparks little laughs from the other side of the door and you get up while Syverson keeps petting Lily and speaking in his reassuring tone. You open it up and see the most adorable little twins dressed up as Kit and Kat from the Thundercats!

"Twick tweet!" they laugh up at you, holding out a couple buckets. Kat/Luke is looking shy while Kit/Leah is doing a little dance.

"Oh, you both look so adorable!" you exclaim with softened enthusiasm, not wanting to scare them. You feel Sy move to stand behind you while Lily steps to your side, curious about the mini humans.

"Puppy!" the little girl says, her dance getting more energetic.

"Yes, her name is Lily," you tell her. "Would you like to pet her?"

"YES PWEASE!"

"Gentle, Leah," Sunshine, wearing a Cheetara costume, quietly says.

"Gen'l," Leah repeats as she nods.

She moves towards Lily and you tell her, "hold out your hand like this." You hold your own palm open and she mimics the movement. "Now let her sniff your hand." You and Sy give Lily the go ahead to investigate and she slowly moves forward, sniffing the proffered tiny hand. She gives it a lick and Kit/Leah gives a delighted little squeal that, thankfully, doesn't seem to deter Lily.

"That's her telling you it's okay to pet her," you tell the little girl. She moves to gently pet Lily and ooo's and ahh's over how soft her coat is. For her part, Lily seems to be on board with letting the tiny one touch her. After a moment, the other toddler holds out his hand for Lily to sniff. She repeats the process with Kat/Luke and he starts petting her as well, a little more nervously than his sister, but no less gentle.

"Goo' wiwy," Kit/Leah smiles. "Goo' puppy."

Lily looks at you and Syverson as if to say, this has been nice but it's getting a bit much. You tell the twins, "I think Lily's had enough pets for now." They give you matching disappointed pouts and you wonder how Jake and Sunshine ever say 'no' to these two. Thankfully you have a distraction in your hands, "so how about some candy?" Their eyes light up and Kit/Leah resumes her dance.

While you give them a possibly unhealthy amount of candy, Syverson takes Lily to a dog bed in his office he'd had placed, complete with some of her favorite toys, before giving her some treats and calling her a good girl. He looks over to the door of his office and smiles at you and your enthusiasm. How happy you look entertaining the toddlers.

He starts thinking more and more about the two of you having your own baby and he bites his lower lip a bit. When the toddlers have to move on, you re-enter the office, closing the door behind you, but stop short when you see the look Syverson gives you.

"What are you thinking, Captain?" you ask in your most seductive voice.

"I think you know what I'm thinkin', Darlin'," he playfully growls.

You smile at him, "I think we should head home."

Part 2

Tech Tuesdays Masterlis

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory;

@kingliam2019; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly

#tech tuesday #tech tuesday: syverson #syverson x wife!reader #syverson x plus size!reader #syverson x reader #captain syverson x female!reader

59 notes · View notes

lynzishell · 4 months ago

Text

The Present 🧡 Chestnut Ridge

Prev // Next

Transcript + Bonus below the cut:

Julian: So, how long have you been living out here? Joseph: About eight years now.

Julian: Why didn’t you call me? Joseph: Figured you were finally done with me. The last time we spoke, you told me never to contact you again.

Julian: When has that ever stopped you? Joseph: [laughs] Fair. Guess it felt like you meant it this time. Julian: I suppose I did. But I’m glad you’re doing well. It’s really good to see you. Joseph: You too.

The font door opens and slams shut. Daisy: [barking] Danny: Papa!

Danny: Whoa. Um. Hi. Joseph: Hey bud, c’mon in. How was school? Danny: Good.

Joseph: Guys, this is my son Danny. Danny, this is Julian and Phoenix.

Danny: So, you’re my brother? Phoenix: I sure am. Danny: Cool. D’you wanna meet my goats? Joseph: Hey now, do you have homework? Danny: Yeah, but I can do it tomorrow. You said I can stay home, remember? Joseph: I remember. But these guys have had a long drive, so how about we give ‘em a break tonight and you can show ‘em around tomorrow. Danny: Okay.

Danny: D’you wanna help me with my homework? Joseph: Danny, what did I just say about givin’ ‘em a break? Phoenix: I don’t mind. I can help you. Joseph: You sure? Phoenix: Yeah. I mean, what are big brothers for if not to make sure you get all the wrong answers on your homework? Danny: Hey! Phoenix: I’m kidding. Let’s see what you’ve got.

Phoenix: Look at you, you don’t even need my help. Danny: Math is easy. I like numbers. Phoenix: I like math too. Danny: I don’t like the word problems, though. I have to draw them, or they don’t make sense. Phoenix: Nothing wrong with that.

Danny: Have you met Daisy? Phoenix: Not officially. But she gave me a little bit of a scare when we first got here. Danny: [laughs] That’s ‘cause she thought you were a stranger. Phoenix: She sounds like a good dog.

Danny: Mhm. She’s my dog. She protects our house, and she helps me sleep. Phoenix: Oh yeah? How does she do that. Danny: If I have nightmares, then she wakes me up and lays with me. She can even turn on the light if I’m too scared. Phoenix: That’s pretty cool. Do you have nightmares a lot? Danny: Not anymore. Phoenix: Sounds like she does a good job then.

Danny: Do you have a dog? Phoenix: Nope. I’ve actually never had one. I’ve never had any pets. Danny: You should get one. Phoenix: Maybe I will. Danny: Do you have any kids? Phoenix: Yeah, I have a daughter. Her name is Aspen, but I call her Annie. Danny: [laughs] That rhymes with my name. Danny and Annie! Phoenix: Yep.

Danny: How old is she? Phoenix: She’s two and a half. Danny: Does she like dogs? Phoenix: She does. One of her uncles has a dog, and she loves him very much. Danny: You should get her a dog of her own. Phoenix: [laughs] Maybe when she’s a little bit older. Joseph: [offscreen] Who’s hungry? Danny: Me!

#ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt4 #present #phoenix realta #julian vega #joseph vega #danny vega #daisy #coffee

75 notes · View notes

seravphs · 2 years ago

Text

beating hearts promised to bared teeth — part one: “The God Finds A Familiar”

KITSUNE! GOJO x GOD! FEM READER; KAMISAMA HAJIMEMASHITA AU

When a kind stranger offers you his home because your gambling addict of a father can’t pay rent, you’re left in charge of a shrine - with a catch. Once you arrive at your new home, you learn a crucial fact that he conveniently left out. You’re the new god in charge, and his familiar, who now belongs to you, does not like you. What’s a new god to do, especially when she finds herself slowly falling for the fox spirit?

wc — 10k

tags — enemies to lovers, shoujo manga heroine type reader, Japanese mythology/yokai, age gap (1000 year old fox and high school girl), slowburn, cameo from Sukuna, Toji, and Nanami, cameo from original Kamisama Hajimemashita cast

part two — “The God Finds A Husband” (coming soon)

shoujo series masterlist

If your stomach growls any louder, you’ll scare off the squirrels fighting over the end of a baguette loaf by the park bench you’re sitting on.

You’re currently in the middle of what others might describe as very hard times. To be honest, your very hard times have been going on for a while now - they just culminated at this specific moment. Regardless, these days are only temporary. You’ve promised yourself that one day, you’ll be able to smile from the bottom of your heart.

It’s just that it was easier said than done when you weren’t homeless. Your father has never been the most reliable of men. You had to take over the household finances by the time you were eight, so you’ve always been accustomed to his lack of responsibility, but today really solidified his status in your mind as an absolutely useless, no good man. It’s unfathomable cruelty to have left his only daughter with no money, no relatives, and no home.

You don’t want to call it cruel. For all of his faults, you still love your father. And it’s because you love him that you know this wasn’t a cruel act. Cruelty is intentional. It’s malicious. It comes from a desire to hurt. Your father has never wanted to hurt you. It’s just a byproduct of his gambling addiction. You’re collateral damage in his quest for the jackpot that would solve all his problems.

You double over in agony at the renewed complaints from your stomach. At least you’ve gone from scaring mere squirrels to scaring passersby. That’s an upgrade, right?

One woman clutches her purse closer as she walks past you as briskly as possible. You get it, you look bad.

But there’s no use being resentful. Your father has been barely one step above a deadbeat all your life. At the very least, you’re used to fending for yourself. Your stomach growls again, but you’re determined to ignore it. You need a plan of action. One step after another, you’ll make it out of these troublesome times.

Before you can start to plot, a loud cry for help catches your attention. It sounds like someone else is in even more dire straits than you are, which is saying a lot.

The squirrels have long since scattered, run off not by the scary noises coming from your famished stomach, but a pack of dogs. Somehow, a man has climbed several feet into the tree next to the trash can, and now perched precariously in its branches. Below him, curious dogs tilt their heads and give cautious barks.

“Aw, hello there, cuties,” you coo, rubbing behind their ears. They yip at you enthusiastically. One sets to chasing his own tail around the tree. They seem friendly enough, but you suppose one can’t help their phobias. A little regretfully, you chase them off.

“Go on now,” you tell the last one, leading him away. He whines, but does as you say. What a good boy.

“Thank you,” says the stranger stranded in the tree. He slides down the trunk, face slowly regaining color. “I owe you my life.”

“It was nothing!” You smile, but he won’t let you brush off your good deed.

“You’re a good kid,” he nods approvingly. “Gotta reward that. Is there anything you want?”

A home.

Not just the house you shared with your father, but somewhere warm to return to. A person who waits to see you safely inside the threshold.

But you know a stranger can’t give you that, so you shake your head and smile. “Really, it was nothing. You don’t owe me anything.”

As if he had heard your inner monologue, the stranger raises an eyebrow. “A home, hm? I might be able to help with that.”

Before you can react, he leans in and kisses your forehead. Where his lips touched your skin feels faintly warm and tingly, almost like the sensation of your leg going numb, before you recoil from him in shock.

He presses a map into your hand and tells you, “Go to this address. Tell them Yaga sent you, and you’ll be welcomed with open arms.”

With that, he runs off.

What a strange man.

Well, you’ve had a strange life, taking care of your hopeless father and all. Perhaps these things really did happen. It wasn’t so impossible for strangers to appear out of nowhere and reward you for good deeds. Maybe all the fairytales your father had read to you back when he hadn’t been so terrible were true.

Or maybe that was the wishful thinking of an optimistically delusional girl who needed somewhere to stay desperately.

The address is located on the outskirts of town. Pushing deeper into foliage and closer to forest than civilization, you find the location you had been sent to.

It’s a shrine.

A run-down shrine, of all places.

Are you on a comedy show? Should you start checking for cameras?

Against your will, you feel your eyes grow hot. That was a cruel trick to play. He had gotten your hopes up for nothing.

It’s not just your eyes. Your entire body starts to feel warm. The world around you erupts into blue flame. Heat licks at your shins as you scramble towards safety, closer to the center of the circle that has formed around you.

When the flames suddenly leap, as if they’ll consume the entire sky, you scream and drop to your knees, covering your head like it’s a bomb threat. Two childish voices ring in your head, as clear and crisp as bells.

Welcome home, Yaga-sama.

It’s a shrine. There’s only one logical conclusion.

This is a haunting.

There’s only one safe path out of the ring of fire, and it’s towards the building you’ve now concluded is the site of paranormal activity. Between being actively burned alive or facing spirits though, you know which one you’ll choose.

Your frantic fingers fumble over the latch on the shrine’s red doors as the fire inches closer and closer until you can feel its heat on your back. Finally, you throw open the doors and all but launch yourself inside. The heat recedes, but the voices do not.

“Back already, Yaga?” A male voice drawls. “I thought your pilgrimage would’ve taken longer. After leaving me to maintain the shrine by myself for sixty years -“

You shriek as an enormous, clawed hand comes down towards your face. Your eyes squeeze shut, waiting for the end.

“I’m not Yaga,” you wail, hoping it will save you.

“You have a lot of nerve?” The voice finishes, more uncertainly than before. When you deem it safe to open your eyes once more, what stands before is a young man dressed in all white. White hair and blue eyes make for a staring constraint, but his coloring isn’t what’s strange about him.

It’s his clawed hands and the equally white fox tail behind him.

“Megumi, Tsumiki,” he says authoritatively. “This isn’t Yaga.”

A shining ball of fire comes forward, speaking in the little girl’s voice you heard earlier. “That can’t be right! Look, she has the mark of the god on her forehead.”

You touch your forehead, remembering the warm tingly sensation you had felt when that man kissed you. Feeling slightly delirious, you start to laugh, only to grow alarmed when you find you can’t stop. You’re growing out of breath from your near hysterical laughing, tears streaming out of the corners of your eyes.

“Oh, great,” says the fox spirit. “She’s crazy.”

“She’s the one with the mark,” the other ball of fire, Megumi, says. “That means she’s the god whether you like it or not, Gojo.”

Tsumiki darts over to you, but halfway through her journey, she goes from fire to a little child just under 2 feet tall. She’s wearing a mask and plain blue yukata.

“We have to celebrate!” She claps her hands together in excitement. “Our god has finally returned!”

Gojo looks dismissively down on you. Your laughing fit is finally starting to die down, but he doesn’t seem impressed regardless. “What god? I won’t accept a little human girl as my master. She couldn’t handle the strength of a familiar like me.”

His condescension only makes you giggle harder. You can’t help it. Something about the fluffy fox ears protruding out of his head makes it hard to take him seriously.

“What strength?” You laugh in his face. “This shrine is so dilapidated, I doubt you’re anything special.”

Gojo looks away. “If she stays, I’m leaving. I won’t serve this kind of pathetic god.”

He disappears in a cloud of white smoke before Tsumiki can finish saying, “Don’t be like that!”

The will-o-wisp children introduce themselves to you as shrine spirits who look after the building. It takes a while, but by the time they kindly show you to the room where you’ll be staying, you can distinguish Tsumiki from Megumi by the differences in the masks they never take off.

Your room is simple and threadbare. The walls are paneled bamboo and the only furnishing is an old futon. Still, you’re grateful. It’s leagues better than sleeping in the woods, which is what you started this day fearing you would have to resort to. You’ve never been the type to complain, and you won’t start now, no matter how strange your life has gotten.

Fox spirits and will-o-wisp children don’t exist. They’re the stuff of myths. Maybe you’re just seeing things because you’re tired, you muse as you drift off to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning after a nice, long rest. The events of today will feel so far away, and you’ll be able to start over.

Or maybe you’re dead already, and you’re wandering in the Netherworld. Perhaps the reason you can see spirits is because you’re currently residing in their land. Your entire body seizes up as you jolt yourself back to wakefulness.

“Kamisama,” Tsumiki has crept back into your room. “Are you alright?”

You tell her to call you by her name. Calling you god just doesn’t feel right.

Gently, she nestles down by your pillow and puts her cold little hands on your forehead. Rather than shocking to your senses, it feels pleasant. When you were a little girl and got sick, your father used to let you stay home from school. He’d pack a towel with ice cubes and place it on your overheated forehead, staying up with you all night just to chat. It’s a good memory.

“It’ll be alright,” Tsumiki tells you in her gentle voice. “You’ll see.”

For spirits that supposedly take care of the shrine, you have a suspicion that Tsumiki and Megumi are pushing their work onto you when they brief you on your chores the next morning. It turns out godhood is a lot less summoning storms and a lot more doing yard work.

Tsumiki insists that keeping the shrine pure is important for keeping evil spirits away. For some reason, that means cleaning. When you ask about calling lightning or summoning lions, Megumi laughs at you.

“That’s Getou-sama’s job,” he says. “Your specialty is marriage. Yaga was very good at tying peoples’ fates together. You will be, too.”

He has more faith than you do in that regard. When it comes to chores, however, you’re more certain of your abilities. Busy work keeps the absurdity of your situation from sinking in, and you’re good at running the household from years of dealing with your father. You’re grateful for something to do. If you think about the past day too hard, you might break down into shocked laughter and never get back up.

Besides, even if you don’t feel particularly ready to be a god, Tsumiki and Megumi are letting you stay in the shrine. You have to earn your keep. Soon, you settle into the process of cleaning, letting the methodical, rhythmic nature of your movements erase any doubts in your mind. You think of nothing but the cooling sensation of the water when you dip your rag into the bucket and the clean, woody scent of the shrine as you scrub the wood.

“Ooh,” Tsumiki says approvingly when she appears. “It looks better already! Can you do the lawn next?”

Plucking weeds is notably less soothing than cleaning. With no gloves, you’re careful to avoid hurting yourself as you tug on spiky vines and knotted twigs, but it’s no use. Eventually, you lose focus and a sharp sting graces your finger. Blood drips down your hand. You hiss in pain.

A hand with white claws instead of nails grabs your wrist. You yelp in shock as Gojo brings your finger to his mouth and laps at the blood. It stains his lips slightly red. He worries at the cut with his tongue, making your wound ache. You try to pull back, but he holds on.

To your amazement, the cut closes before your eyes. You’re just about to thank him when he ruins the moment.

“You really are useless,” he says. “You can’t even pluck grass?”

You yank your hand out of his grip as hard as you can, sending yourself tumbling back against the grass. You hate how it must make yourself seem even more human in his eyes, a weak, fragile thing.

“Give up,” he says, and it’s almost gentle, the way his claws graze your chin as he holds your face in one hand. “You’re not suited to be a god.”

You turn away, unwilling to let him see any more of your vulnerability. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Suit yourself,” he says with a noise of annoyance. “Brats who run away from home aren’t my problem.”

“I didn’t run away!” You snap, whirling on him. “My dad was the one who ran! I don’t have anywhere else to go!”

But he’s gone.

At least Megumi and Tsumiki are nice to you. Megumi takes the bucket of weeds you deposit at the front door and whisks it somewhere out of your sight, while Tsumiki prepares a nice, hot bath for you. Exhausted, you collapse onto the bamboo floor spread eagle.

God, a voice murmurs in your head.

Not again. You don’t want any more spirits to deal with. When you raise your head, instead of another yokai, there’s an old woman standing in front of the shrine. Her head is bowed and her hands are clasped in prayer.

Please bless my daughter’s marriage so that she will enjoy a long and fruitful life with her partner.

Her voice is coming from some place inside your head. It resonates like a bell, ringing crisp and clear. You stretch out your hands wonderingly. You don’t look any different.

“You see?” Tsumiki says approvingly. “You’re a god.”’

But you don’t feel like one. You feel just like a normal person.

“A god needs a familiar.” You can’t see Megumi’s face behind his mask as he speaks, but you can imagine the solemn little boy he must be. “You need to bind Gojo to you.”

“How do I do that?”

“You have to kiss him.”

You wait for them to tell you they’re joking.

“What? I can’t kiss him! Is there-”

Megumi cuts in. “It’s just the traditional way to seal the contract. Don’t think too much of it.”

The fact that neither of them are bothered makes you feel like the ridiculous one for being off put by this, but you’re sure you’re not. Still, if you’re a god now, you have to put all of your mortal sensibilities aside. It’s like another culture, you tell yourself. Like how Europeans kiss each other on the cheek to say hello. Even if you can’t convince yourself, Megumi and Tsumiki are insistent.

You were so fired up just a second ago, but now your head is filled with doubts. If such a simple matter can sway you, are you really meant to be a god after all? Maybe Gojo is right. Maybe you should just leave.

“Please,” Tsumiki says. She looks distraught. “Don’t abandon us. Please don’t leave.”

Megumi doesn’t say anything, but his silence is enough.

“Okay,” you say, feeling defeated. “I’ll give it a shot.”

You’ve always been good at chores. If taming Gojo is just another part of your new job, it sounds like it's time to get serious.

“Take me to him.”

Megumi and Tsumiki balk.

“Right now?”

“Why not? The sooner I get it over with, the better, right?”

“He’s...indisposed at the moment,” Tsumiki says carefully.

“Indisposed? Is he sick?”

“Not quite,” Megumi says. He’s very expressive for a spirit. You can practically imagine him grimacing.

“Then it’s fine!”

You would soon come to regret your words.

Megumi and Tsumiki lead you out of the shrine. They show you where to find the path that can lead you to the land of spirits and demons. Your entire body rebels at the feeling of being in this other world, but at the same time, you feel at home here. The god and the girl that coexist inside of you are mutually repelled by and attracted to this place.

Even though you know Megumi and Tsumiki aren’t really children, or at least children in the way mortals think of them, you’re still concerned about letting them traipse around this dangerous place. However, they seem more used to this world than you are. That energy is better devoted to fending for yourself.

They lead you under bridges where the running water smells like flowers and women’s voices hiss in the babble of the current. Tree leaves rustle with hands that disappear into darkness. You follow them through dark alleyways lined with red paper blessings, and doorsteps encircled with salt. Eyes follow you, leaving your skin crawling.

You’re so focused on keeping your head down and staying out of danger that you almost don’t notice when they stop. You nearly run Megumi over.

“He’s inside here,” Tsumiki says.

Is it just you, or does she seem nervous?

The lanterns inside this establishment are turned down to a dimness that barely illuminates the corridors. Sweet smelling smoke writhes around your feet from some unknown source as you head deeper and deeper into the maze of hallways, following the pair of shrine spirits. You pass women wearing fox masks, dressed in luxurious kimonos. Their hair towers over their head in elaborate updos, held in place with beautiful pins inlaid with chartreuse and gold.

Megumi stops before a folding screen door. Like all things within this building, it’s beautiful. The silk screen is painted with images of flowers and more gruesome scenes as well, but somehow, it’s still breath-taking. A little like Gojo, in that regard.

You hear the voices of women behind the screen, flattering Gojo. The light of a single candle illuminates the dim room, imprinting his silhouette against it, as well as that of the two women with him. They’re draped over him, hands roaming his body as they purr their compliments. Your face burns with embarrassment.

“What are you doing?” Megumi demands of Gojo. “How can you parade around the red-light district like this? You’re the familiar of a god, not some common demon! If Yaga knew, it’d break his poor heart.”

Behind the screen, Gojo merely brushes him off. “Yaga’s been replaced by some little human worm. Why should I care what he thinks now?”

“What about the shrine? Don’t you care about that, at least?” Tsumiki's voice is thick with reproach.

“Now that you mention it, I don’t think I do,” he says. “Ha! You know what? Maybe I should thank that girl. Now that I’m free, I can do whatever I want.”

“Gojo-“

“I’ll can indulge in every little vice Yaga never allowed me to touch before. Who would want to be a familiar when I can have all of this?”

“Gojo, our god is here.”

“What?”

He leaps up and pushes the screen aside, coming face to face with you. He looks startled to see you, though you don’t see why he should care, since he so desires to lead a life of sin.

You look upon him with disgust. You might want a familiar, but you’re not so desperate you’d stoop as low as this. Gojo cares so little for anyone but himself. If you’re going to be a god, you’re going to do it right. You’ll pick a good familiar, one who will genuinely love the shrine as much as it deserves.

You turn and leave as he, half-clothed, frantically starts pulling on the outer layers of his kimono.

“Wait,” he calls after you. “Tsumiki! Megumi! Why would you bring her here?”

“She wanted to see you,” Megumi retorts.

“This isn’t the place for a human,” he says. “She’s going to get eaten!”

The faster Gojo follows you, the faster you run from him. By the time you’re out of what you’ve come to realize is a brothel, you’re sprinting. Your legs carry you right into someone else as your face slams against a broad, muscled chest.

“Oh,” says a voice above your head. “How pretty.”

A hand caresses your face. This spirit has tattoo marks across his face and body. More interestingly, he has multiple arms.

You’re frozen in place by fear as he brings his mouth closer and closer to your face. He’s close enough to kiss, but this is a spirit, which means he’s more likely to eat you.

“Be good for me now,” he purrs in your ear. “Fear makes flesh all the sweeter.”

Three of his six arms are consumed by fire. He pushes you away from him in favor of batting out the flame.

Gojo pulls you towards him, hiding you in the folds of his billowing kimono. You press your face against his shoulder, swallowing back the tears of fear from nearly being eaten. Somehow, he feels safe, even though he’s been nothing but antagonistic towards you. He feels almost protective as he shields your body with his, securing you under one arm.

“Scram,” he tells the other demon. “She’s mine, Sukuna.”

Sukuna rolls his pairs of eyes. “You weren’t with her when I caught her. She’s fair game.”

Fox fire flickers in Gojo’s hand. His white talons seem to elongate before your eyes.

“If you want to fight over her, then by all means,” he says with a dangerous smile. “But we both know I’d win.”

“Maybe later then,” Sukuna says, lazily as if Gojo isn’t threatening him. “Once I’ve eaten my fill.”

He stalks off into the night in search of more prey.

“This is why I told you to wait,” Gojo says, running his hand over his face. “You’re practically bait in this world. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

You nod, not trusting your voice, but he catches on anyways.

“Don’t cry,” he says, his face twisted in a grimace. “I won’t know what to do if you cry. Look, this is just your life now, okay? You’ll have to get used to it.”

On impulse, you press your face into his shoulder again, still sniffling. You want to be comforted, even though you know he won’t give it to you.

“Ugh,” he says, true to form. “Quit that.”

By the time you’ve calmed down, Gojo has already escorted you back to the shrine.

“Don’t come back,” he tells you.

Of course, you can’t listen to him. On your second night in the land of the dead and monsters, not only do you have to hide from beasts who would devour you the moment they found out what you were, you also have to hide from Gojo. You’re wearing a disguise, courtesy of Tsumiki and Megumi.

In your defense, it’s not like you want to be here. You need a familiar, and it’s clearly not going to be Gojo.

According to Tsumiki, Gojo’s the strongest, but there are other familiars who would be willing to serve you. They’re all in the Netherworld, however, and you have to find them before you can contract them.

You pull the curtain of the hat shielding your face a little closer around you as you peer at the faces surrounding you, trying to gauge who looks friendly. None of them do. You’ve been wandering around for hours, but not a single spirit has stood out to you.

In the end, you don’t find him. He finds you.

“A human god?” A hand grasps your wrist loosely. “That’s rare. Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be here?”

The man in front of you looks normal by any standards - but you know better than to trust your gut in the netherworld. Still, he’s the closest thing to a human you’ve seen in a while. Surrounded by a maelstrom of monsters, he feels like the eye of the storm. There’s a quiet and a calm surrounding him, even as you walk among noderabo with withered, leathery skin and scaly yajo.

It’s not like he’s in his own little pocket of the world, you realize. He is. Everyone is purposefully giving him a wide berth.

“Who are you?”

“I asked first,” he says.

“You know who I am! You just said so - I’m the human god.”

His eyes rake over you. “So you are. But what are you doing here, girl?”

You throw his words back in his face obstinately. “You first.”

“I’m Toji.” That doesn’t tell you anything, but he’s clearly unwilling to divulge more. “Your turn.”

“I’m looking for a familiar.”

“What about your familiar? I heard that Gojo-sama isn’t keen on sharing.”

Somehow, the way he says Gojo-sama sounds derisive, even with the respectful honorific.

“He doesn’t want to be my familiar.”

The rejection stings coming out of your own mouth.

“Sounds like him. Haughty bastard, he couldn’t stand to serve a human girl, could he?”

“Yeah! He’s an asshole,” you say, feeling validated.

When Toji laughs, the scar over his lip tugs one side of his mouth down. You kind of like it. And he must be strong, just looking at him. He’s well muscled and covered in scars. Of course, there’s the little matter of the reverence everyone around you is offering him. Tsumiki and Megumi had told you to just go out and find one. Could it be that easy?

“Are you interested?”

He gives you a look of barely concealed amusement. “You’re funny, girl. I don’t think Gojo would like that very much, though.”

“I don’t care what Gojo thinks.”

“Oh, here he comes now. Don’t go running too far - you’ll worry him,” he says, slow and easy. His confidence is absurd - it reminds you of Gojo, actually. He must be strong. “If you’re really serious about wanting me as a familiar, why don’t you meet me here again in three days?”

“What are you doing?” Gojo snarls at you. His teeth match the rest of his fox physique. With wonder, you realize that his pearly canines are pointed beyond what’s normal. “I told you not to come back!”

“But- He-” You turn around to point Toji out, but he’s gone.

“Who?” Gojo says.

“He was right there!”

“You’re so annoying,” Gojo bites out. “I don’t care what happens to you, but if you die, Megumi and Tsumiki will cry, so stop wandering off on your own. You’re lucky you didn’t get devoured on the spot.”

He’s starting to get really irritating. You shove his hands off.

“You know it’s actually your fault I’m here, right? If you didn’t reject me, I wouldn’t have to scour the Netherworld for a familiar.”

Gojo scoffs. “My fault? Maybe you should take a look at yourself. If you were less weak, I wouldn’t have a problem serving you!”

“That’s- You’re impossible!” You splutter. “I can’t help being weak! I was born this way! Not everyone is so lucky to be born a kitsune, oh-so-great-Gojo-sama.”

“Enough,” he sighs. Taking you by your wrist, he forcibly drags you through the streets back in the direction you came.

“Ow! You’re hurting me!”

“Gojo!” Megumi’s reproving voice breaks the argument up before it can begin again.

He lets go of you almost guiltily, if you thought he could feel guilt.

“I’ll take her home,” Megumi says.

Gojo’s tail lashes behind him angrily, but Megumi doesn’t spare him a second glance as he ushers you away.

“Thank you,” you tell him in relief. “What are you doing here?”

“You were taking a long time,” he says. “Tsumiki and I were getting worried. Did you find anyone?”

You think of Toji. “No,” you say. “No one.”

The next day, while Megumi and Tsumiki dress you for your trip through the Netherworld again, Megumi presses three slips of white paper into your hands.

“We should’ve taught you this sooner,” he says. “One of the powers of a god is to transform objects. Whatever you write on this charm will become true - within the scope of your power. Be safe.”

Armed with your paper slips, you feel like a real god. Tsumiki pushes you out the door with a prayer for good luck, though you’re not sure you can grant prayers to yourself for yourself.

Outside the door, something whines by your feet.

“Gojo?”

Or is that a regular white fox?

It snaps its teeth at you.

Definitely Gojo.

“I don’t need an escort,” you tell him, making shooing motions at him with your hands. “Go away!”

He rolls over and yips at you, his tail wagging.

“I can’t understand you like this!”

“I said,” a cloud of smoke reveals him, mostly humanoid once again, except for his ears and tail. “I don’t want to do this either. It’s for Megumi and Tsumiki.”

Toji doesn’t seem to like him, so you don’t want to risk bringing him with you. Despite your best attempts to shake him, Gojo follows you as you retrace your steps back into the spirit world. You’re just starting to despair when you spot a bigger reason to be upset.

“Hello, delicious,” Sukuna says. “Ready for round two?”

Why does he look even more terrifying? Did he get bigger?

“Leave her alone,” Gojo says, almost bored. “It’s pathetic. You can only bully things weaker than you, huh?”

“I’m not afraid to fight you,” Sukuna tells him.

You’re panicking. They both look serious. You don’t want to be caught between these two forces of nature.

“You should be,” Gojo says, and steps in front of you. Over his shoulder, he tells you, “Run. You’re in my way.”

This is the chance you were waiting for.

Toji’s dressed differently when you find him again. Last night, he was wearing a casual black kimono. Tonight, he’s dressed in a tight fitting black shirt and loose white pants.

“You look nice,” you tell him, feeling anxious. Your mind keeps going back to Gojo. You’re sure he can hold his own, but you’re still worried for him. As you are, however, you’re of no help to him. The only way you’d be able to rescue him if he actually was in danger is by making a contract with a powerful familiar.

“It’s for work,” he says. “Follow me.”

“We can’t do it here?”

“Do you want to kiss me in front of everyone?” He shrugs and reaches for you. “I mean, I’m down if you are, but I figured-”

“No,” you squeak and dart away. “Privacy is good!”

He laughs. “You’re as funny as ever, huh? C’mere.”

Toji leads you off the beaten path and further into the woods. The only thing that keeps you from feeling more nervous is the moon shining overhead, illuminating your path. It feels almost like a friend is with you.

“Here is good,” Toji says, stopping at a clearing.

“It’s so pretty,” you breathe out, dazzled. This deep into the woods, fireflies are lighting your way. Beneath your feet, a springy bed of flowers and moss covers the floor.

“What can I say? I’m a romantic.”

“Yeah, right,” you laugh at him, but you draw closer. You think you could trust him. You think you could be partners with him.

Then Toji grabs you by the shoulders and dangles you off the edge of the clearing, over a steep drop you hadn’t noticed. The sharp cut off had been hidden by flowers, danger painted over with beauty.

“Sorry, kid,” Toji says. “No hard feelings, right?”

“Why?” You whisper. Gojo had been right.

“There’s a bounty on your head,” he says. “Getou has offered to grant the wish of anyone who kills you.”

His eyes turn wistful. “I have a kid. Haven’t seen him in years. You understand, right? It’s not personal.”

The fall is brutal. The wind whips tears into your eyes, if you weren’t already crying from the fear of falling to your death. You have to do something, anything. Above your head, something white flutters.

A dove?

Then another.

It’s one of the paper ofuda Megumi had given you before you left, caught in the updraft of you rushing down to earth. You snatch it out of the air. You can’t reach the pen in your pocket. With increasing desperation, you bite down on your finger hard enough to draw blood and trace the characters for a tree branch onto it. Holding it aloft, you pray.

Between your hands, wood solidifies. You’re clinging to a scrap of a twig sprouting from the rocky cliffside. Megumi’s words echo in your head - only within the scope of your power.

So this is it, huh?

That’s all there is of your godly strength.

“Looks like you’re in trouble,” Gojo says. He has no problem balancing on the sheer cliff. His appearance is impeccable, completely unscathed from his fight with Sukuna. He perches like a bird, as comfortable as if he were standing on solid ground. “Do you need help?”

Thank god. He’s here to save you! You nod, turning teary eyes on him. You were wrong about him. Gojo really is a good guy, deep down.

“If you say, ‘Please save me, Gojo-sama, I was stupid.’ I’ll help you. Throw in some crying and begging, too.”

Your eyes dry up instantly. He’s a total bastard. You clutch onto the branch tighter. There’s no way you’ll give him the satisfaction of groveling for help.

Your resolve weakens when you hear the first snap.

“Time’s ticking,” Gojo calls in a sing-song voice. “What will it be?”

The harder you hold on, the more your flimsy branch breaks.

“Come on,” Gojo says. “It’s not that hard. It’s just seven little words. Isn’t that worth your life?”

“Go fuck yourself,” you tell him, and the branch finally snaps.

Falling for the second time is just as bad as the first time. The icy wind snatches at you like claws, tearing at your clothes.

To your surprise, Gojo leaps after you. He makes free-fall look elegant - surely a far cry from whatever you’re doing.

“Just say it,” he yells, within arm’s reach. He’s so close he could snag you by the shirt and haul you to safety, but you know he won’t. Not without getting what he wants. “Would you rather die than just apologize?”

You have an answer prepared.

His eyes widen in shock when you press your palms to his cheek, pull him closer, and kiss him.

You barely have time to register the taste of him, sake and something sweet, before the reality of falling to your death rushes in again.

“Gojo, save me!”

As if his body is piloted by someone else, Gojo catches you. For him, it’s a short leap back up to the top of the clearing, where Toji has disappeared.

You climb down from his hold once you’re certain you’re safe. You never thought you’d miss the feeling of solid ground beneath your feet this much, but at the moment, you’re willing to kiss the earth.

Gojo seems much worse off. He’s frozen in shock, muttering the same refrain to himself under his breath. “Me? Bound to her? Impossible.”

“Let’s go home,” you tell him. He doesn’t seem to get it until you tug him towards the path, and then he leads the way wordlessly. .

You wake to Megumi and Tsumiki weeping over you.

“I’m alright!”

They freeze, then burst into fresh tears.

“We thought you would never wake up! Your first time using ofuda must have been too much for you,” Megumi gets out through his sobs.

You feel sore all over. You can barely recall the events of the previous night, only that you kissed-

“Finally up?”

Gojo’s tapping his foot as he waits for you to get up. He looks furious. There’s an unmistakeable tick in his jaw that spells trouble for you.

It’s too early to deal with him. You duck back under the covers.

“Oh no you don’t,” he growls out as he seizes your wrist and bodily hauls you out of your warm cocoon of blankets. “You wanted to be a god, you’re going to be a god. It’s time for some training.”

You shiver pathetically in the cold morning air. If you had known helping a stranger would lead to be harassed by a fox spirit, you would’ve never done it in the first place.

“Try harder,” Gojo says at your sixth failed attempt to turn water into wine.

“It smells alcoholic,” Megumi offers loyally.

“I am trying!” You insist.

“Harder,” Gojo snarls.

The seventh attempt doesn’t change. Gojo throws up his arms and stalks out of the shrine, declaring the need to cool his head. Tsumiki frantically trails him, not trusting him to not attempt to run away again.

Megumi tries to assure you that you’re doing well, but honestly, you need to leave too. The shrine feels too stuffy. A change of scenery will do you good. Sitting alone in the woods just behind the shrine, you try to focus. Slowly, stacks of ofuda disappear from your hands as you paste them to trees, willing them to blossom. Wilt. Do anything, anything at all.

You’re out cold when Gojo finds you.

“Divine power takes time,” he says as he prepares dinner. “Use too many talismans at once and you’ll pass out.”

You drink a spoonful of soup morosely. “How do I get stronger?”

“You’ll get stronger if you grant prayers.”

Tsumiki perks up. “One just came in!”

“I already looked at it,” Gojo says dismissively. “Not that one.”

“Everyone’s wishes deserve to be looked at,” you argue.

Gojo scoffs, “Not this one.”

“Don’t be rude! A god can’t pick and choose.”

He tosses the prayer at you.

Morimoto Rika’s request touches your heart. She’s the spirit of a nearby lake - not just any spirit, as Megumi helpfully clarifies, but another owner of a shrine. A human boy visits her waters nightly. By the light of the moonlight, she fell in love with him, but she can’t meet him because they live in two separate worlds.

And to think that you would’ve never known to help her if Gojo had continued keeping this from you.

“This sounds like the perfect job for me,” you argue.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Yokai can’t fall in love with humans.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Aren’t you bound to do as I say? Take me to her.”

Against his will, Gojo summons what’s called a ‘night fog coach’. Only operable at night, as the name suggests, it’s a tall black carriage truly made for a god. You’re just wondering how Gojo expects you to climb aboard when he effortlessly lifts you by the waist.

“You’re the one who wanted to go meet her,” he sneers. “Chop-chop.”

Your supplicant looks like a fish if it were a girl. She has pale green skin and large, black eyes, with overly large teeth for her mouth. Black hair frames a heart shaped face. She’s cute, in her own monstrous way. And she’s desperately in love with a human boy.

Gojo helps you transform her into a human body and make her over into a normal teenage girl. For a prayer granted, it feels like nothing more than dressing your friend up for a date.

You’re even as nosy as you would be in that situation. It’s the first prayer you’ve ever granted. You know you shouldn’t, but you and Gojo watch the burgeoning romance from a distance. Of course, he’s completely disapproving, but you have high hopes for them - until Rika pulls out a ring.

Aren’t they moving a little too fast?

It only gets worse when Rika confesses that she’s been stalking him - sort of. Keeping tabs on him for his safety by following him around town is a little too close to the other, for your liking. Your head drops into your hands.

But Yuta takes it surprisingly well. A little too well, in fact. It only seems to infatuate him even more. You knew there were certain types of men out there who loved crazy, but you had never seen it in real life - until now.

Could this even be counted as a success?

You’re happy for Rika and Yuta, as happy as you can be for their twisted little union, but you’re just waiting for Gojo to bite your head off for bringing a (real) monster and a human together as soon as you get back home. At least they’re happy, you think ruefully. Worse things could happen. Your first union as a marriage god didn’t fail. In fact, of all people, Yuta seemed the most likely in the world to accept Rika as she was, human or not.

To your surprise, returning to the shrine, Gojo begrudgingly says, “You did well.”

Any warm feelings you have for him the next day are replaced when he barges into your room and demands you strip.

“You have guests,” he says. “Messengers from Toji-sama, the god of the wind.”

Your eyes grow wide. You hadn’t known Toji was a god. Come to think of it, did Gojo even know the reason why you had been falling from that cliff? You weren’t sure if he had come in time to see who had pushed you.

“What are you worried about? I’ll be at your side the whole time.”

You’ll tell him later. Right now, you have a serious matter to prepare for.

You tried not to discriminate on the basis of his master, but it’s not that at all. Toji’s familiar, Naoya, is simply annoying on his own terms.

“So you’re the new god of this ramshackle little shrine,” he sniffs. “God, it’s disgusting. How poor are you?”

“You must be the thirteenth familiar Toji’s owned. He goes through you like toys, doesn’t he? Of course you wouldn’t know that he used to live in worse conditions before. Deplorable.” Gojo laughs in his face.

Naoya grits his teeth. “I’m surprised your little human dared to show her face. I thought she’d be terrified after what Toji did to her. They’re such weak little things.”

Gojo looks at the other demon with a calm that worries you. As human as he is, there are moments when you can catch the monster lurking within. He’s like the sea, deceptively calm until you remember the threat of an unseen riptide.

“If you insult my master again,” he says carefully, enunciating every word like he’s stabbing at them with a knife, “I will take your head and deliver it to your master as a present.”

“Don’t tell me you’re happy to be serving a mortal girl,” Naoya laughs. “Not someone like you, Satoru. How the mighty have fallen.”

Gojo looks at him for a long moment, then he ignores him completely and walks to your side. The most painful part of Naoya’s digs at you is knowing he’s right. Gojo doesn’t like this. How could he? He went from being the strongest to being commanded by some powerless girl. Still, Gojo gazes at you with his inscrutable eyes. You can’t read him at all.

Slowly, he sinks to his knees next to you.

With a gentleness you can hardly bear, he lays his head in your lap, as gentle and docile as a puppy. His neck is bared as if for an executioner’s axe, the delicate pulse of his heart open to you. He closes his eyes. His breath is shallow. He stays there, and says no more.

“Oh, Satoru,” Naoya says in delight. “You really have become a tamed thing.”

With an uncertainty you’re trying to hide, you lift your hands to Gojo’s head. His hair is sinfully soft. You’re almost scared he’ll try to take your hands off for it, but when you start to gently pet his hair, he almost purrs. His eyes close, half-lidded in pleasure.

“I serve who I want to serve,” Gojo says. His tail lashes behind him. “Who are you to tell me my master is unworthy?”

Naoya shrugs, clearly disbelieving. “Sure, Satoru. Keep telling yourself that. I’m just here to deliver a gift.”

He tosses you a package wrapped carefully in beautiful, ornate wrapping paper. You’re sure it’s not Toji’s doing. He’s not the type.

As soon as he leaves, Gojo pushes himself away from you. It leaves you a little sorrowful, the speed with which he tries to get away. He only did it for your sake, you know. He wanted to protect your honor in front of Naoya because you’re his master. But it must have disgusted him, to get on his knees for a human, if he recoiled so fast.

“What did he mean, what Toji did to you?” Gojo asks over dinner.

You know instantly that you’ll only draw his ire if you try to play dumb.

“Toji pushed me off that cliff the day you found me.”

Gojo’s eyes darken. The next time Naoya returns, he promises you, he’d set his tail on fire. No one besmirches his master’s honor like that.

It’s about honor, of course. You’d be a fool to think otherwise.

Alone in your chambers, you unwrap the package Naoya gave you. It’s an incense burner, beautiful and silver. As apology presents go, it’s a decent one. You set it aside for use at a later time.

Naoya’s visit only makes Gojo’s training worse, but these days, you’ve grown used to him and his harsh words. The more that he yells at you for being weak, the more you can brush it off as Gojo just being Gojo. That only irritates him more, of course.

But nothing pisses him off as much as you claiming that you’re returning to school. Gojo thinks that you have no need for school as a god. There’s nothing the humans can teach you that he can’t.

In your eyes, Gojo is a kitsune. That means he’ll never understand a teenage girl’s heart. School isn’t about learning, it’s about the experience! You’ll never be in high school again - there are so many things you still haven’t experienced, like school trips. You only have one youth - you have to seize it in the moment!

Gojo isn’t convinced.

Like an overbearing parent, he nags you all day and night until finally, you strike a deal. He’ll let you go to school, but only as long as you cover up the god-mark on your head. Gojo is never one to make things easy for you. The hat he bestows you with is an ugly grandma print with faux fox ears. You’ll be the laughingstock of the school!

“It’s dangerous,” he says. “Who knows what wild beasts will be lurking about?”

“You’re the wild beast,” you say. “I can’t wear that!”

“I guess you can’t go to school then,” he sighs. “What a pity.”

It’s all for show, of course. You know what he’s really like. There’s no use in arguing - either you agree to his compromise or you stay here, stuck in the temple for the rest of your life. You’ll miss out on all the joys of youth, never growing old in your cloistered shrine. The thought is unbearable.

You snatch the hat from him in indignation. Putting it on before you leave the next day makes you cringe, but as long as you avoid mirrors, you can almost forget that it’s there - if not for your classmates staring at you. You can feel their judging eyes everywhere you go, and the whispers.

You can’t even say you don’t care - you do care. You only have one high school life, and Gojo is ruining it. During lunch, you escape into the bathroom to mope and avoid all of your classmates.

“Are you getting bullied?” Gojo’s voice is too bright and cheery for your dark mood right now. You can’t promise to remain calm if he stays here.

“This is the girl’s bathroom, Gojo.”

“Don’t be like that. I’m just worried about my master,” he says. “Well? How is it? Do you want to go home now?”

He’s lying. You know he’s not worried about you at all, but you should be used to it. You don’t know why it stings as much as it does.

You’re hurt even though you know this is just how Gojo is. Of course he’d be happy to see you miserable - he hadn’t even wanted you for a god in the first place. He’s bound to you by obligation, and nothing more. You had known from the start that he didn’t care about you, so why does it hurt that he won’t comfort you? It’s just like those nights in the demon world that seem so long ago now. He hasn’t changed at all.

Gojo isn’t as shocked by your outburst as he is by the tears slowly welling up in your eyes. He stands stunned as you rush out of him and back into the hallway.

Tsumiki appears next to him out of thin air, completely unimpressed.

“You did a terrible job on that one, Gojo.”

As if in a daze, he lifts his hand, where the crystal of one teardrop shines. He’d tried to reach for you at the last moment, but you were already gone. “I made her cry...”

Megumi appears next to Tsumiki, his face red. “What’s taking so long? Hurry up and leave! We’re in the girl’s bathroom!”

“Gojo was bullying our master,” Tsumiki announces.

“I wasn’t bullying her!”

“He made her cry.”

Gojo winces. “Okay, yeah. I did do that.”

Megumi kicks him in the leg, which amounts to almost nothing. “Take responsibility, then!”

When you return home, Gojo is waiting by the shrine door with an almost offensively polite smile on his face. “Let me take your coat, master.”

Him being kind gives you the creeps. You can’t help but feel like he’s planning something, especially when he shows you the lavish dinner he prepared for you with all of your favorites.

“What’s with the look?” He says, annoyed at your accusing eyes peering at him over your bowl. “I do something nice for you and this is how you treat me?”

“This is really just for me? No ulterior motives?”

“None,” he promises.

The smile that breaks over your face is like the sun through rain clouds - sudden, dramatic, and almost painfully bright after a period of gray skies.

“Thanks, Gojo!”

The look in his eyes is unreadable as he reaches to spoon more food onto your plate.

You don’t have anyone else in this world. Besides the shrine spirits, Gojo might be the only person in the world who will take care of you. For some reason, the thought doesn’t sting as much as it did this morning.

The second day of school starts with pouring rain, as if it’s a direct reaction to your foul mood earlier. Gojo pulls you back when you try to leave.

“It’s a bad omen,” he says. “Stay home with me today. I’ll worry about you if you go.”

Normally, such sweet words might bring a blush to your face, but you can read between the lines.

Stay home with me today so I can keep you out of trouble, you brat.

I’ll worry about you if you go because you’re weaker than a worm.

“Stop trying to keep me from going to school! I thought we got over this yesterday,” you huff. “I’m going to be late for the bus!”

You leave Gojo with a handful of air as you dart under his outstretched arm and out the door.

In school, all your classmates are listless.

You’ve never been so unhappy to not be the subject of attention. What is wrong with everyone? Even the teacher doesn’t reprimand anyone for sleeping in class, half-asleep herself. You’re the only one who doesn’t seem to be caught in this spell of drowsiness, which insinuates paranormal origins.

As you’re sweeping the classroom after class, one of your classmates lets out a disgruntled noise.

“It’s a snake,” she says, not at all with the intonation of someone who’s just discovered a snake. Ami’s the type to go apoplectic at the sight of a fly, much less an actual snake, so you don’t pay much mind until you hear Kurama go, “Huh, she wasn’t kidding.”

There’s a little yellow snake in the classroom. In their stupor, none of your classmates seem to care all that much about it. They just continue going about their chores. You feel bad for it. It’s such a small, fragile little creature. In their state, they might accidentally end up crushing it.

With gentle murmurs of encouragement, you coax it into your hand. It’s surprisingly docile and twines itself readily around your wrist before you set it outside the window to be set free.

Gojo doesn’t praise you for your act of heroism on the behalf of his fellow yokai, as you remind him. You saved his compatriots! Where’s the gratitude?

He calls you a stupid little girl. “I don’t care about them, I care about you!”

Your face warms with embarrassment against your will even though you know he doesn’t mean it like that. Time and time again, Gojo has stressed that he will never see yokai and humans as even remotely on the same playing field, much less capable of being romantic partners.

“You’re my master,” he says. There’s your call back to reality. “Look at this mark on your wrist.”

It appears like a normal bruise to you, though you’re not sure how it could’ve happened. Your new snake friend was very gentle when he was coiled around your wrist. He must have been someone’s escaped pet. You hope he found his way back home.

Gojo’s mad. He’s enunciating every word.

“This is exactly why I have to keep such a close eye on you. That’s no ordinary bruise. That is an engagement mark. Care to explain to me how I left you alone for one second and you got yourself engaged to a divine beast?”

Your face pales. “Excuse me?”

“That snake is going to come and claim you as his bride.”

“As a bride?” Your head spins and you have to sit down. You’re too young to get married. You look up at Gojo, teary-eyed. You don’t want this.

“Stop making that face,” he snaps, pushing a hand over your face to hide it. “As if I would let that happen. The master of the Yaga shrine, my master, could never be wed to a mere snake.”

If Gojo says he won’t let it happen, you can put your faith in him. You breathe a little easier. As mean as he can be, Megumi and Tsumiki weren’t lying when they called him the best familiar. He’s the strongest and most capable person or rather, yokai, that you know. There’s not a single task you set for him that he hasn’t been able to complete.

It’s still raining when you go outside to practice your talisman making.

You find the weather quite pleasant, even though it’s a little damp. The chill in the air cuts through the muggy feeling of summer, and the raindrops cool your cheeks. When you turn your face up to the sky, you can taste ozone in the little drops that pelt your face.

“You’re very beautiful, kamisama,” says a voice.

There's a man waiting just outside the red gates. A supplicant? In this weather? You better get him inside in a hurry. You dash over to him.

“What are you doing? Come inside, you’ll get wet!”

Just as you reach him, he lifts his face. He looks like a statue, with high cheekbones, and solemn eyes. His hair is the same pale yellow as the snake you saw earlier that day-

“Gojo!”

But it’s too late.

The snake has a hold on your wrist, right above the engagement mark. He takes you away.

One moment, you’re standing in your own backyard, the next, you’re surrounded by almost-familiar bamboo walls. It looks like your shrine but for little distinguishing touches. That makes you uncomfortable.

“This is Haibara shrine,” the snake says. “I’m Nanami, the familiar of Haibara-sama. I’ve taken you away to marry you.”

There’s a curtain over the center of the room. Haibara presumably rests behind it, but something strikes you as off about the whole scenario. That’s not what’s foremost on your mind, however.

“I don’t want to marry you! You kidnapped me!”

He tilts his head at you. “I couldn’t have kidnapped you. We’re engaged, you see?” He traces the mark on your wrist with one slim finger. “We’re going to be very happy together.”

“You’re being creepy,” you push him away.

At your rejection, something dark crosses over his features - not danger, but pain. He has some nerve feeling upset when you’re the one who should be upset here!

“That’s alright,” he says, trying to stroke your hair. You won’t let him touch you. “I know it can take some getting used to. Here, let me show you to your room.”

Nanami has clearly put a lot of thought into decorating for you. It’s beautifully furnished, with rich silk sheets and the fragrant smell of plum blossoms permeating the air. Here, there’s not a single thing you could want but-

Gojo.

You miss Gojo and you miss your shrine.

When Nanami leaves you in your room, it feels like a tomb in the silence. You bury your face in your expensive, hateful sheets and try to resist the urge to sob. You want Gojo to come get you. You want to go home.

Hours pass, but Gojo doesn’t come.

Nothing but the sound of your breathing changes, passing from frantic to deeper, slower, steadier. As your head clears, you notice the window. It’s a beautifully ornate design, a red knot of luck. The center is just big enough for a girl to squeeze through, if you try hard.

Resolve grips you.

You’re not going to wait for Gojo to rescue you. You’re going to get out of here yourself, find him, and scold him for not coming to get you earlier. Aren’t you his most beloved master, as he so professes? You’re going to make him kneel for at least three hours practicing his apologies!

Filled with renewed conviction, you hoist yourself onto the window sill and begin the tedious task of shimmying yourself out. Just when you’re nearly there, the sharp edge of the metal scrapes your shin, leaving a long, thin cut.

The smell of salt replaces the plums immediately.

“God?” Comes Nanami’s voice. “I smell blood. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” You panic. If he discovers your escape attempt now, he might try to put you in a more secure room, and then you’ll really never see Gojo again.

The adjacent wall caves in.

Gojo stands in the rubble, seething, each hand wreathed in blue flame. He doesn’t even notice you, his attention wholly focused on Nanami. “You drew her blood? Are you prepared to face the consequences of hurting my master, snake?”

You grab his arm just before he attacks. “He didn’t! I hurt myself on the window- oof!”

Gojo’s so much bigger than you are. When he folds you into his arms, his entire body surrounds you. His chin tucks itself over your head, his large arms wrap around your body. You’ve never felt more secure than you are here, now. “I thought you’d be crying.”

His voice is hoarse.

You’ve never heard that before.

“You came,” you whimper, burying your face into his shoulder.

Nanami’s face is crestfallen. “Are you going to leave me?”

You grab Gojo’s arm and duck into the other room, where Haibara’s curtain is.

“Don’t!” Nanami cries.

When you pull it back, there’s nothing but an old, dusty kimono.

You were right.

This place is godless.

“You’re no familiar,” Gojo snarls, turning on Nanami. “Don’t even think to call yourself that. The difference between you and me is as clear as day, you vile beast. You’ll pay for your insolence with the loss of your shrine.”

Nanami’s misery is written all over his face. You’ve realized what’s wrong with this shrine. It’s too quiet, as if no one has prayed here for generations. Haibara has been dead for a long, long time.

Nanami must have been lonely.

“Don’t,” you tell Gojo.

He stares at you, incredulous. “Are you out of your mind?”

You tug yourself out of Gojo’s arms. Nanami’s crouched on the ground, trying to shield Haibara’s old kimono from Gojo’s foxfire. You kneel to his level.

“I’m sorry you’ve been lonely for all this time, Nanami. I can’t stay with you, but if you come to my shrine, we can play again.”

Nanami weeps and reaches for your hand. The mark of the snake dissolves.

Gojo doesn’t talk to you on the way back to the shrine.

“Don’t be mad,” you say, tugging on the sleeves of his kimono. He gives you a deadpan stare. “Come on! I only did it because-”

You can’t finish your sentence.

Of course, that piques Gojo’s interest. He can never resist bullying you.

“Because? Go on,” he goads you.

You say it so quietly he can’t hear you, even with his fox ears. He spins around, grabs you by the waist, and hoists you up so you’re face to face. You yelp and scramble to grab onto his shoulders for balance.

“Louder,” he demands. “I can’t hear you.”

“I was thinking about what would happen if I died and you were all alone again. I couldn’t leave him alone because I was thinking of you,” you tell him. Thinking of Gojo watching after an empty shrine all alone like Mizuki makes your heart ache for reasons you can’t explain.

He stiffens. “What a strange thing to worry about. I wouldn’t care.”

“Ugh,” you smack him in the shoulder. You shouldn't have tried to be kind to him.

He doesn’t put you down, shifting you into an easier hold. “You’re hurt,” he admonishes when you try to squirm.

Just before you enter the shrine gates, he has a confession of his own to make. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You got hurt because I wasn’t protecting you.”

You rub his ears, an indulgence you’re not sure he would’ve allowed if he wasn’t in such a mood. “It’s not your fault!”

“I’ve never had a human master,” he says. “I have to be careful not to break you. You’re so easily hurt.”

“You don’t have to say it like that,” you say, and then the shrine spirits are there to welcome you home.

You hadn’t realized you thought of the shrine as home until today.

Even though Nanami’s mood isn’t affecting the weather anymore, it’s still raining. Gojo tells you not to mind the weather, even though you’re certain that it’s not from natural causes, which means it is your job. Ever since you came back from Haibara’s shrine, Gojo has been extra protective of you.

You hadn’t thought Gojo had needed to be protected too, not until the thunder god came.

The god of storms and lightning is called Getou Suguru. He carries a mallet in one hand that can transform whoever it touches into their younger forms, and he used to be Gojo’s best and only friend. He’s also the one who called a bounty on your head.

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

620 notes · View notes