#some fears can only be defeated face to face | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mulloey · 6 months ago

Text

clever girl

mafia!seonghwa & mafia!yunho x undercover detective!reader. feat. mafia!ateez

words: 7.5k

warnings: dark content. extremely dubcon. depictions of gangs, violence, death (not you or ateez& not shown) and prostitution.

smut warnings: heavy dubcon, threesome, hard doms!yunho & seonghwa, exhibitionism, gun play, double penetration, anal, unprotected sex, sir kink, pet& degradation names, fear kink, some thigh slaps, mentions of pregnancy and breeding, death threats, humiliation, no aftercare, imprisonment etc

hate is deleted and blocked

“Detective.”

Your head darts up, gaze meeting that of your irritated looking boss. He stands above you with folded arms, a displeased expression on his face. “Sir,” you greet him. You struggle to keep your expression blank, a smile pulling at your lips; you know exactly what he’s mad about.

He slams a sheet of paper down on your desk. “Why did you request to do this mission alone?” He asks, wasting no time. “Have you lost your mind?”

You don’t need to ask what mission he’s referring to; though you, much to his annoyance, are known for choosing to go it alone, there’s only one mission on your roster right now that’s dangerous enough to make him this agitated. You sigh, rolling your eyes as you lean back in your chair. You stretch your arms out above you with a yawn before sitting back up, eyes on him. “I’ve been watching these guys longer than anyone else,” you say. “Before anyone here would even acknowledge they were an actual threat. I know how they work.”

“Yes, we’re all aware of your qualifications,” your boss snaps. “But I wasn’t asking about that. I’m asking why you want to do this alone.”

You nod, a small concession and certainly the most he’d ever expect from you. “It took me a long time to fully understand these men,” you explain. “They’re incredibly volatile and unpredictable, even for a gang.”

“Even more reason to have backup.”

“No,” you disagree, shaking your head. “Even more reason not to send officers to their deaths because they don’t know what they’re dealing with or how to deal with it.”

His mouth opens and closes, formulating a response. He frowns, tapping a heavy black boot against the floor. “You really think that’s what it’d be?” He asks. “You think we’d lose men?”

“I’m certain,” you say. “I can’t emphasise enough how dangerous these guys are if you don’t know the way they work or how to stay on their good side. But I do know those things, sir. I’ve studied them for six years.”

He hums. “And you actually think you can handle it alone?”

You smile, nodding confidently. The thought of finally meeting these strange men in person has you a little queasy, but you know you can get this done. “It’s simple intelligence gathering, sir. I’m happy to have backup stationed a good distance away, but I’m not sacrificing good people for something I can do alone.”

He stares at you for a moment, searching for any signs of uncertainty before he sighs, nodding in defeat. “Very well,” he says. “I can see there’s no convincing you. You can do this alone if you’re absolutely certain that’s the best course, but you will call for help when you need it. The moment you need it. Understood?”

You smile, standing up to shake your still hesitant looking boss’ hand. “Thank you, sir. Understood.”

On the other side of Seoul, in a dark office piled with weapons and supplies, a screen lights up, buzzing with a new message.

4:37pm

unknown number: she’ll be coming soon. alone.

A man stares down at the message, a thin smile on his lips. It’s finally happening. The girl he’s been watching, who’s followed him around corners and stared into his windows for years, will finally stand in front of him, and she’ll be completely alone. He couldn’t have asked for more.

He sighs, twirling a knife around sullied fingers. Come, little dove.

—

Five days later, a taxi drops you off just on the outskirts of what has become their unquestioned territory. It’s an unassuming area, not rich by any means but not outwardly dodgy, either, and to the untrained eye doesn’t seem at all like gang territory. But you know better, of course. You know what happens behind the doors that quickly close as you walk by; you know the terrors behind the eyes of the men who leer at you as you venture further away from safety. You know this place, and you know that as far as anyone who knows anything is concerned, you’re not in Seoul anymore. As much as your boss may claim to, try to believe differently, neither the law nor the police nor anything can help you now. Every step you take now is taken at the mercy of the eight men you’ve come here to meet. The Owners, locals call them. You’ve come to know them as Ateez.

You walk with your head down, trying not to catch any more attention than being a lone woman at this time of night already commands. One hand is stuffed in your jacket pocket, fingering at your gun for reassurance while the other hangs at your side. Beneath your jacket, the black dress you’ve chosen to wear hangs just above the middle of your thigh. You hate the feeling of it, shorter and far less comfortable than the pants, jeans and shirts you’ve become accustomed to as a detective, but it’s all that was available for the very specific tactic you’ve chosen.

From your interviews of Ateez’s associates, or at least the ones who you’d managed to catch before they did, you know that they are extremely and understandably stingy with their information. Their personnel, operations and other intelligence is closely guarded on a completely need-to-know basis. It’s what makes trying to capture the lower-level members of the organisation such a pointless task; the majority of them don’t even know who their bosses are, let alone any useful information about them. In fact, the chances of actually meeting the men themselves are very slim even for people looking to do business with them; from several accounts you’ve ascertained that even trusted partners and allies will work with the organisation for years without ever meeting its leaders. No, the only people who get anywhere near the leaders and, more importantly, the information they possess, are the women who come and go from their penthouse on a quickly rotating basis, and according to your informants, always seem to emerge looking even more terrified than they’d entered.

As such you’d formed your plan; you’d enter as one of their hookers, with the clothes and parts to match, find out as much as you could, bug every inch of the penthouse, and leave with your satisfied clients none the wiser. A simple enough plan, but as your years on the force have taught you, not one that’s likely to go exactly as you expect. You just hope that you come out in one piece. Or that you come out at all.

You pull the jacket further across your chest, holding it tightly against yourself. Mercifully, the inconspicuous, but for you instantly recognisable building belonging to the organisation soon comes into view. By design it doesn’t stand out, except for the fact that it is quite a bit taller than its neighbours, but you know what goes on in there; or at least, you’re about to. You take a deep breath before biting the bullet and quickly stepping inside.

The interior of the building is just as uneventful; relatively clean but stained in places with substances you’d rather not think about. A few men shuffle around silently, looking up briefly when you walk in before quickly averting their gaze when they realise what you’re here for. It’s a well-known rule, apparently, that no one is to even think about a girl the leaders have had, even after they’ve discarded her. And with such a fast employee turnaround, it’s no mystery what they do to people who violate even the smallest of rules. The leaders — particularly the eldest two, you hear — run a tight, disciplined ship, and think nothing of throwing anyone overboard. Except each other, apparently; the one thing that every single one of the informants had vouched for is the tight, indestructible bond of the men at the helm of this operation.

A man approaches you nervously, asking why you’re here and you quietly whisper the name of one of your informants; miraculously you’d managed to turn one of the men Ateez frequently used to procure their companions, and he’d agreed to hand you over to them, essentially guaranteeing your authenticity; basically, he’d promised to vouch for you not being the exact thing you were— a snitch. A cop, at that. The man you speak to nods in understanding and directs you where to go and, thanking him with a smile, you make a note to thank your informant the next time you check in with him.

The further you venture into the building, your heart pounding heavier with each step, the nicer it becomes. When you step into the elevator, far nicer and more richly decorated than the front of the building, it becomes clear that the first part of your mission — breaching the restricted area — has been successful.

You step out on the top floor and the difference is obvious; polished floors and hallways lined with mirrors, paintings and flowers show you this is a part of the building few will ever see. This is the bosses’ world. Ateez’s world.

Breathing shakily, you knock on the doorbell the way you’d been instructed — five times, with a gap between the third and fourth. You hear voices before the door opens seemingly on its own, revealing the lavish interiors of the leaders’ apartments. It’s richly decorated with a dark, oak theme, and there’s not a person in sight.

“Hello?” You call out. Your voice almost seems to echo in the vast emptiness of the penthouse. “I’m here to see the Owners? Binwoo sent me.”

Silence abounds and then, just as you start to worry this has all been a big set-up to take out the only detective who’s gotten remotely close to the group, someone emerges. You recognise him instantly as the leader, Hongjoong. You’ve only seen him in surveillance, and very scarcely; the only time he ever seems to leave this place is when someone pisses him off so badly he decides to deal with them himself, so naturally the majority of your surveillance of him has been of torture and murder and pain. Seeing him in front of you now, not as tall as he looked from afar yet somehow even more imposing, those images of him — the things you’ve seen him do — play on repeat in your head.

When he raises a hand to wave at you, all you can picture is the black leather gloves he wears while he brutalises, covered in blood. Your blood, if this doesn’t go well. There’s a reason, you think, that the employees who don’t know this man’s name and thus resort to nicknames, have settled on The Butcher.

You gulp as you wave back. You hope he doesn’t notice the way your hands shake. “Hello, sir,” you greet. You bow politely, trying not to let on to the fact that you have any knowledge of who this man is or what he’s capable of. “I was sent by Binwoo to entertain you.”

He cocks an eyebrow, staring you up and down. “He did say he had someone for us,” he says. This is the first time you’ve heard his voice clearly, and you have to stop yourself from looking surprised at how… normal he sounds. Like a regular guy in his 20s, really— certainly not the monster you know him to be. In another situation, you think you’d quite like his voice. It’s gentle and welcoming and you could even see yourself getting flustered by it; but instead the voice, the man, everything about this moment, fills you with terror.

“Yes, sir. That was me.” You try your best to sound seductive, or even normal, but you’re not sure if he buys it.

He stares at you for a few seconds, eyes narrowed. “Take off your jacket,” he orders. Fear pulsates as you obey; you note that his voice is deeper than before. You hope it’s arousal— or even just curiosity. Anything but what you’re fearing it to be.

You take off your jacket as quickly as possible, hanging it up on the hanger next to the door as he instructs you. You stand in place, hands by your sides like your informant, Binwoo, had told you he teaches his girls to do. Wearing only your dress and heels, you feel more exposed and vulnerable than ever.

He stares at you for a moment before nodding, satisfied. “I’m Hongjoong,” he smiles. “What should I call you?”

You don’t think about your answer; you’d come up with a name while planning this mission, just as you always do. “Mira.”

He cocks an eyebrow, sceptical, but nods. It’s not uncommon for prostitutes to give a fake name, particularly in circles like this, so your obvious moniker shouldn’t be a problem unless he figures out the real reason you’re using it. You pray he doesn’t.

“Very well, ‘Mira’,” he grins. “I’ll take you to the others. They’re waiting for you.”

You follow him down the hallway; dark, ambiently lit, almost cosy. The sound of your heels on the wooden floor breaks the silence into small seconds, giving you a rhythm to follow and cling to as you walk towards what could very well be your doom.

Reaching the door to the dining room, Hongjoong spares a second to look back at you, offering a thin smile that could almost be reassuring before pushing open the door. The room is bigger than you could have imagined and impossibly lavish; more suited for royalty than a criminal syndicate. Along one side of a long, oak table that stretches much of the length of the room sit seven men, arranged to face you in an intimidating formation.

You recognise them all, each face unnerving you more than the last. It’s true, they’re all stupidly handsome — even more so in real life, you realise — but all you see on their faces are the countless, endless amounts of blood on their hands. You’ve seen some of it yourself, more than enough, but the stories are even worse; men, women, children, anyone who stood in their way, slaughtered like sheep. You could swear you hear the faint ringing of screams in your ear as they look up at you.

“Gentlemen,” Hongjoong says. “This is Mira.”

They greet you with interest, a few of them offering a smile while the others simply stare you down. “Turn,” one of them says — San, you think. You stare unsuredly at Hongjoong and he lifts an eyebrow; a silent order to obey. Slowly you turn around, letting them see your back side before facing them once again. They look pleased.

“She’ll do fine,” another, Wooyoung, says with a grin.

Your gaze catches his and you gulp, unnerved. Wooyoung was the person you were most nervous to encounter; though his demeanour is friendly, enthusiastic even, the stories you’ve heard about him are the worst. He kills, massacres people with ease and he does it with that same grin on his face. It’s more terrifying than the more calculated, stoic members, because while they’ve probably killed and maimed more people than him in the long run, they at least treat it with the seriousness it deserves. Wooyoung ends lives without consideration and treats it all like some kind of game.

“Um…” you start. “What would you like me to do now, sirs?”

“Unless anyone has any requests,” Hongjoong starts. He looks around at the others and when no one speaks up, he continues. “You may put your bag on the table then come back here to present yourselves to us.”

You nod, voicing a quiet ‘yes, sir’ before nervously making your way over to the table. Your grip on your bag is iron and you’re hesitant to let it go; your bugging equipment lies in a secret compartment at the bottom hidden beneath the makeup and toys you’d brought to make yourself more convincing, and to leave it with them feels like giving yourself away. But even if they check your bag, you think, they have no reason to think there’d be any kind of secret compartment. You’re safe. You just need to get this done and then you’re safe.

You walk back to where you were, alone this time — Hongjoong has gone to take his seat next to the oldest member, Seonghwa, and now you’re eight-to-one.

Seonghwa speaks for the first time and his voice is surprisingly sultry. “Take the dress off,” he says calmly. His eyes are narrowed. “I’d like to see what I’m working with.”

With shaking hands you remove the dress, carefully unzipping the expensive (for a detective’s salary, at least) fabric and sliding it down off your body. Clad only in black, lacy lingerie, you feel a deep flush across your face; you’ve never been so exposed in front of a man before; certainly not multiple men and certainly not dangerous, notorious criminals. A whistle sounds across the room, though you’re not sure who it came from, and you blush deeper. You feel the weight of their gazes as eight pairs of eyes hover over every inch of you, inspecting and scrutinising you silently. Seonghwa, the closest to you and with the sternest expression, can’t seem to draw his eyes away from your breasts. You swallow, feeling vulnerable and smaller than you ever have before.

“Turn,” Seonghwa says, voice commanding. “Let me see the back.”

You nod, turning once again, taking your time to give them the opportunity to rake their eyes up and down the back of you; no doubt hovering on your ass, globes cleverly exposed by your lingerie. You hear a few whispered comments and try to keep your composure; you almost feel the touch of their hands on your ass, squeezing and slapping it however they like. You know they want to; you hope they will— it will mean you’ve convinced them enough for them to let their guard down.

“That’s enough,” Seonghwa says. “Turn back.”

Relieved, you turn back to face them. You’ve passed one obstacle, you think. Seonghwa stares at you for a moment, expression unreadable before he curls a long finger, bidding you closer. You take a few steps before he raises his palm, stopping you, and you still yourself. His eyes rake over your torso again before he nods. He stares up at you with dark but interested eyes and a smile breaks onto his face before he speaks.

He says it so casually you almost miss it. “I know what you are.”

His voice is so soft you only just hear him and the words take a moment to hit you. When they do, your reaction is sudden and visceral; you heart drops into your stomach like stone, blood rushing to your head at a dizzying pace and you almost pass out. But you do your best to keep your reactions internal; you know the only way to make them more certain of why you’re actually here is to freak out and panic at the mere suggestion. No. You can play this one off. You’ve trained for this. You just need to de-escalate.

You clear your throat, tapping your foot against the floor. “And what’s that?” You ask, trying to sound sultry; your voice almost breaks on the last word but you catch it in the nick of time. “A whore?”

Seonghwa’s lip quirks. “You know,” he says. “That’s not as far off as you think. But no.”

You almost want to huff at the jibe he’d thrown at you, but you remember your situation, the danger you’re in and choose to stay on his good side.

“What am I, then?”

“We don’t really need to say it, do we?” Hongjoong interjects. There’s no anger in his voice; he sounds somewhere between bored and amused. “We both know already.”

You reach up to your chest, to the chip you’d hidden in your bra in case you needed to call for backup, but a loud laugh stops you.

“Are you calling for backup?” Wooyoung grins, confirming what you already knew — they know exactly why you’re here. They’ve figured you out.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, still fighting your case. Your voice starts to falter as you speak, composure beginning to crack. Some small, stupid part of you still seems to think there’s a way out of this, but you know there’s not. They know your secret. And even if they were wrong, if you were innocent, this is their territory and their house— if they say something is so, there’s no arguing.

“You are,” Wooyoung laughs.

“And that backup,” Hongjoong interjects again, “they wouldn’t be the officers we found in vans on the next block, would they?”

You feel your heart drop into your stomach, jaw dropping in disbelief. No. The next block? Does no one listen to a fucking thing you say?

“I—”

“I wouldn’t bother calling for them,” Seonghwa says. You hear a few chuckles from the others, clearly enjoying this. “I don’t think I need to explain why.”

No, you think, he doesn’t. You know what they do to spies and traitors — what they’ll do to you. You can only hope they killed your colleagues quickly. If you somehow ever make it out of here, you’re going to do the same to your boss — you told him to station backup far away and this is why.

Starting to panic, you begin to back away but your pathetic attempt only takes you a few steps before Seonghwa barks, “Grab her!”, and the two men nearest descend on you.

Your years of combat training are no match for the strong, probably better-trained men, and within seconds they have you fully restrained. You struggle in their hold and the taller, Mingi, harshly grabs your hair, yanking it back to force you to stare the others straight in the face.

You expect to see anger, even bloodlust when you meet their gaze, but you don’t. Other than Seonghwa, who seems irritated at your attempt to escape, they look… unbothered. It doesn’t make sense, you think. Not with what you were trying to do and especially not with how painfully close you came to doing it. For having almost had their entire network penetrated by one terrified looking woman, they look strangely calm, like they’re entirely unsurprised by this development, and you don’t know why. Unless…?

You hold back a groan as the realisation hits you. “You knew.”

Hongjoong smiles, amused. “We’ve always known, Mira. You think we wouldn’t realise we were being watched?”

You bow your head. You’re still terrified, knowing these men have killed countless people with the blank, unbothered expressions they wear now, but right now the overwhelming, crushing emotion is just… embarrassment. You feel like a rookie again; cocky and confident with your badge and gun until you fuck up for the first time and it all comes crashing down.

You shrug. “I don’t know.”

You hear someone snort and look up to see Wooyoung, giggling almost gleefully to himself. “Aren’t you meant to be the smartest on the squad?” He laughs. You hear a few others chuckle too. “Didn’t you tell your boss you ‘knew everything about us’? But you didn’t consider the fact that we might know you?”

He makes a good point, you realise. But while you figured they’d know they were being watched, with your high-tech surveillance equipment and ability to blend into a crowd, it had barely crossed your mind that they might know who was watching them — certainly not that they’d somehow know the exact things you’d said about them. They must have bugged you, you think, or somehow gotten a spy into the department to listen in on your discussions on them. You guess you owe them more credit. And a lot more fear.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can think to say.

“I’m certain you are,” Hongjoong says. “Now you’ve been caught. Are you keen on proving it?”

You look up, confused, hopeful and terrified all in one. You thought you’d be dead by now, shot on sight. And if they intended on killing you slowly, torturing you for information before finally letting you die, you figured they’d have started by now. Or at least made any attempt to move. They could still do it, of course, but they don’t seem in the mood for that. They look… curious.

“P-prove it?” You stutter. “How?”

A few of them smile, mouths curling into thin smiles and you shift uncomfortably. The two oldest share a look before Seonghwa nods and seemingly out of nowhere, Hongjoong pulls a gun, setting it carefully but loudly on the table. He keeps a hand on the trigger and his eyes on you as he speaks. “Firstly,” he says. “Don’t try to run. I’d hate to stick a bullet through your pretty face but if you bolt, that’s exactly what I’ll do. And I know you’ve seen yourself how excellent my aim is.”

You gulp. Hongjoong’s right. Through the lenses of your binoculars you’ve seen him — all of them, in fact — make some almost impossible shots. Certainly more impossible than a woman in heels trying to escape from a locked room. There’s no point trying to run. You’ll leave when — if, you think with a shiver — they allow you to.

You feel yourself deflate, nodding defeatedly. “Okay.”

“Alright,” he smiles. “Mingi, Jongho, let her go.”

The men holding you stare almost petulantly at their leader but he raises an eyebrow and they relent, releasing their grip. “Not a fucking toe out of line, Mira,” Mingi whispers in your ear. He says your ‘name’ like it’s diseased.

Despite being released, your body refuses to move; it stays paralysed in the same position, too terrified to even shiver. A blessing in disguise though, you suppose; Hongjoong looks pleased. “See,” he smiles. “It’s so easy to just be good for us, isn’t it?”

You try to respond but all that comes out is a small, pathetic squeak. A few chuckles sound out across the room and your gaze catches Yunho, who, though appearing calm, in his eyes looks just on the edge of feral. You gulp.

Seonghwa is the first to move; he says your ‘name’ lowly, curling a finger towards you. “Come here,” he orders.

You approach him as slowly as you can excuse, soon enough ending up inches away from him. He looks you up and down, inspecting your body with dark eyes.

”You’re shivering,” he says softly.

You manage to force out a few words. “I’m cold,” you reply. “And…”

“And scared?” He asks. You don’t respond, but you flush pink and he chuckles. “Clever girl,” he says. “You should be scared. I’ve never liked the way you seemed so… fearless about us.”

He wraps an arm around your waist, eyes flashing when you jump in surprise. “So flighty,” he mutters. “Sit on my lap.”

You don’t know if you would resist if you could but that doesn’t matter; your body, seemingly in survival mode, moves of its own accord to straddle him. His hands settle on your waist, just above your ass and he smiles.

“Still shivering,” he chuckles. “Good girl.” He leans in close enough that only you can hear as he whispers; “San’ll be much nicer to you if you stay this terrified.” You gulp, eyes flickering in the direction of the man mentioned; he’s watching you intently, face blank but he’s clearly not one to mess with. He’s so much more intimidating in person.

“Now,” Seonghwa says, and you turn your gaze back to him. “Let’s see what you can do for us, hm? Open your mouth.”

You hesitate briefly, but quickly obey, parting your lips slightly. Seonghwa runs his thumb across your bottom lip before he tugs at it to open your mouth further; before you know it a wad of spit lands on your tongue, and he closes your mouth again. He taps your cheek. “Swallow,” he says.

You pray your boss never finds out about this; straddling your enemy’s lap and swallowing his spit on his command. Then again, you’d be lucky to see your boss again at all. You don’t particularly trust that they’ll spare your life just because you let them fuck you. This feels more like playing with their food.

Seonghwa pushes two fingers into your mouth, ordering you to suck. They push to the back of your throat, making you gag but you keep them inside, sucking them desperately and trying to ignore the way your body screams at you to get them out. “Sucking me so good,” he grins. “You’re gonna look so pretty with our dicks in your mouth.”

You can’t help the moan that slips out; nor the flood of relief that washes over you at the praise. Maybe they will let you live after all.

Seonghwa thrusts his fingers lazily in and out of your mouth, letting you choke and gag on them as your throat slowly adjusts to the intrusion.

“I must say,” he says. There’s curiosity and knowing in his eyes; a knowledge of something you think is secret. It unnerves you even further. “You’ve come around to this remarkably quickly. I really thought you’d put up more of a fight, petal.”

Noises of agreement sound out, the men chuckling to themselves. “Pathetic,” you think you hear Yunho say.

“You know, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong says. You turn in surprise at his voice— sitting in Seonghwa’s grip, those dark eyes burning into you, it’s easy to forget there’s anyone else in the room. Hongjoong smiles amusedly at you before he continues. “It’s almost like she wanted to fail. Like she wanted us to realise what she was because she knew that’d mean we couldn’t let her leave.”

You manage to stop yourself from scoffing— thank God, you think, because the pistol on the table in front of Hongjoong is ever present and you’ve seen him use it on others for a lot less. But come on. That’s ridiculous. You’ve been after them for years, never for a moment with any intention other than locking each and every one of them up for good. You try to protest but Seonghwa clamps his palm over your mouth, shushing you. “You might be right, Joong,” he smiles. “That would explain why she came here so poorly prepared. Like a lamb to slaughter.” He removes his hand from your mouth; his fingers brush over your lips and linger a little longer than you can justify.

Hongjoong chuckles. “Is that it, little lamb?” He asks. “Were you hoping for this?”

You shake your head, determined to refute him but to your horror, part of you starts to wonder if there might be some truth to his words, if you… no. No way. Of course you weren’t hoping for this. Still, your hesitation tells them more than you want them to know. “I…��

“She was,” Seonghwa grins. “Naive little girl.”

You frown, brows furrowing. “I’m not—”

Before you can finish your sentence, a deep voice you recognise as Yunho sounds out, silencing you. “Will you stop fucking talking back,” he snaps, almost shouting. He leans over to where you’re still held firmly in Seonghwa’s grip, eyes dark. “I swear to God,” he whispers.

“Yunho,” Hongjoong replies before you can, tone warning but amused. “Don’t be mean to her. She must be so scared right now, hm?” He turns back to you, narrowing his eyes. “And maybe something else?”

“She’s horny is what she is,” Yunho snorts dryly. “Dripping for us yet still with so much attitude.”

“She can’t resist,” Seonghwa says. “It’s in her bones, isn’t it?” He strokes your face with a gentleness you’d never expect from him; but the knowledge of how easily he could and might still kill you makes it a lot less comforting. “She wants to hate us, knows she should but this feels so right, doesn’t it? So good.”

You whine, shaking your head; you know you’re past the point of resistance now but you can’t bear to fully submit. There’s no coming back from that. Seonghwa sighs, stroking your hair. “As soon as you give in,” he says, “this will get so much easier.”

“I—”

“Hm?” He asks. “What? You can’t?”

You shake your head and he smiles. “You can, Mira,” he says. “You will.”

You groan, squeezing your eyes shut as if you could make this all go away just by blocking it out. You hear them chuckle, then before you know it you’re being lifted up; you open your eyes and see Seonghwa has stood up, still holding you in his arms, before laying you down on the table with your legs hanging over the edge. Your stomach twists as you realise the position you’re in; completely exposed and at their mercy. Ripe for the taking. Your hands are lifted above your head and you look up to see Yunho, holding them together firmly in one hand. Seonghwa’s hands come to rest on your hips again.

“Open your legs.”

You whine, shaking your head squeezing your thighs together. Seonghwa scowls, displeased and wraps a calloused hand around your plush upper thigh. He stares you down, eyes dark as he starts to squeeze. His sharp nails dig into you, piercing the skin ever so slightly under the pressure. You whimper, squirming a little but he doesn’t react.

“Open them.”

Cold metal touches your temple. You don’t need to look to know that Yunho is holding a gun to your head. You swallow thickly, trying to stay calm. At this point, you’re not disobeying on purpose; you’re not stupid enough to think that would work. But in the thick of adrenaline, where your body had once obeyed of its own accord, now… it won’t move.

Seonghwa gives Yunho a pointed look and then the gun leaves your head. Now in the elder’s hand, he puts it down for a moment before, with one hand on each thigh, he spreads your legs open with ease. “There we go,” he hums.

The steel of the pistol is ice cold against the warmth of your inner thighs as he moves it slowly up your legs until it points directly at your pussy. Covered by the thin black fabric of your panties, you nonetheless feel entirely exposed, like he can see right through them.

The end of the gun comes to press up against your panties and you feel the cold steel through the fabric; but where it presses against your clit, pressure slight but noticeable, it’s almost nice. It doesn’t move; Seonghwa keeps his hand still in place, watching with a small smile as you try to conceal your pleasure. He pushes it against you slightly, making you gasp, and gestures to your panties.

“Take those off,” he says. “Quickly, if you want the safety to stay on.”

You scramble to obey, tugging them off and discarding them next to you. With a small smile, Seonghwa picks them up and stuffs them in his pocket. You bite your lip. “Sir,” you whisper.

He hums, cocking an eyebrow before placing the gun back where it was before. This time he presses it more firmly against your clit and you squirm. “Nice and still for me,” he murmurs.

Turning your head, you see the other men gathered around the table. They’re just… watching. No one looks affected, no one’s touching themselves; they’re just watching their friends take you apart with entirely blank, focused expressions. Like it’s a clinical procedure.

Unnerved, you turn back to face Seonghwa just as he slips the gun ever so slightly into your pussy. You gasp, almost crying out but Yunho quickly shoves his fingers into your mouth, silencing you. “Now, now,” he cooes. “We don’t want to make them angry, do we?” His voice is sickly sweet and condescending and the most terrifying thing you’ve ever heard. You shake your head, still gagged by his fingers and he chuckles. “Good girl.”

Then the gun is gone as Seonghwa pulls it away— a string of wet, sticky liquid following in its wake. He smiles knowingly and you wish the earth would swallow you up. You’ve creamed on a fucking gun, shoved up your pussy by your worst enemies. You’ll never come back from this.

“My, my,” you hear Hongjoong chuckle. You turn to meet his eyes and he tilts his head, smiling innocently. Seonghwa grabs your face to force your gaze back to him. “Stop looking away,” he says. “I’m the one fucking you.”

The gun clatters down and without warning Seonghwa’s long fingers are penetrating you; two, you think, maybe three. He doesn’t ease you into it (why would he, really?), just quickly stretching you out on his fingers. And then Yunho’s there too, standing next to the elder and watching him work you open with dark eyes.

Soon they swap places, and while Seonghwa’s fingers are certainly large, Yunho’s are something else entirely. His fingers pump in and out of you efficiently; your pleasure clearly isn’t what’s on his mind, but rather, working you open for something bigger. He certainly pays no mind to your reactions; even as you whine and cry his eyes never move from your pussy as you come more and more undone around his fingers. He’s focused, dangerously so.

Once his third finger sits comfortably in your pussy, he pulls them all out, leaving you gaping and empty. You whine at the loss and he chuckles before he picks up his gun again. He runs it up and down your thigh with light, teasing touches.

“Want it in you?” He asks.

You nod, desperate. At this point, you wish you felt shame— you wish you were embarrassed and humiliated to be debasing yourself like this for your targets; but instead you’re just aroused. Completely, overwhelmingly, suffocatingly aroused. “Sir,” you whisper again.

He grins, twirling the gun in his hand. The ease with which he handles it is a stark reminder of where you are, who these men are. It does nothing to lessen your desperation.

“Very well,” he says. “Stay still, Mira. Wouldn’t want the safety coming off accidentally.”

Accidentally. You almost scoff. You’re a detective; you know a thinly veiled threat when you see one. And this is barely veiled. Still, you do as he says without complaint, keeping your legs spread and pussy open for access as he presses it against your entrance. It goes in surprisingly easily; lubricated by your gushing pussy and it’s as humiliating as it is exhilarating. You make a noise of discomfort, biting down on your lip until you taste blood; half of pleasure and half of pain.

The steel is cold and inhuman and the edges push painfully against your walls and it’s degrading and terrifying. Yet at the same time it feels so good to be used and demeaned in this way; to be fucked open not for your pleasure, not even his pleasure, but purely for his own amusement. You know every noise or face of pain you make is making him harder and it’s a rush you’ve never even felt from sex. Fuck. What is wrong with you?

At this point, you don’t even know who’s talking; people and voices blur into one distant, surrounding haze.

“She’s loving this,” someone says.

“Sick bitch,” another spits, then, “we should keep her.”

Then the gun is gone, and you’re suddenly empty, your walls clinging to nothing— briefly. Within a few moments something else nicer, warmer, better is sliding into you; you look up, meeting Seonghwa’s gaze as he pushes into you. He’s large and thick, bordering on this side of too much, but it feels… good. Fuck. You’ve never felt like this in your fucking life; neither, it seems, has he.

“Fuck,” he choked. “Tight little whore. So fucking good.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, lost in a fog of pleasure and clinging to the rhythm of his quickening thrusts. Half of you wants to forget who it is that’s doing this to you, making you feel so good; the other half thinks this is the only dick you want for the rest of your life. But with each thrust of Seonghwa’s dick deep inside you, slamming against your cervix each time, you become less and less able to think of anything at all— except the waves of painful pleasure washing over you, and your desperate desire for it to never, ever stop.

It’s just your luck that, just as you feel yourself approaching your climax, Seonghwa pulls out without warning, leaving you empty and leaking. You’re about to cry out in protest when you find yourself flipped over, pressed down and bent over the wooden table. You feel the two men behind you, kneading your ass, and a sharp slap lands against it before Seonghwa pushes back into your pussy again.

“Hwa,” Yunho says. “I don’t think she’s full enough.”

Seonghwa slows his pace, and you feel his stern, scrutinising gaze on you. “You’re right,” he says. He spreads your ass cheeks, making you gasp, and he chuckles. “Look at that little asshole clenching. I think it wants to be filled.”

Yunho makes a noise of agreement, pressing a finger to your rim and making you jump. “Think she can handle my cock in there?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not really,” Yunho says nonchalantly. “But I’d rather not break her completely. She’s too tight, it’d be a waste.”

“Fine,” Seonghwa says, slowly starting to thrust again. After a few moments, he pulls out, and you feel Yunho’s long fingers enter your pussy. You whine, confused, but a slap of Seonghwa’s hand against your thigh silences you. Yunho’s fingers pull away, replaced with Seonghwa’s dick again, before Yunho’s fingers are on your asshole, pushing into the rim with— oh. He’s… he’s using your slick as lube.

“Dirty girl,” he mutters. It takes embarrassingly little time before he manages to fit all three fingers in there and he stills. “You ever been fucked here before?”

“N-no,” you gasp, squirming under the two men’s grips on you.

“Good,” he says. “Hold still.”

The feeling of his cock pushing past your rim makes you scream— it’s fucking maddening; painful and pleasurable and pretty much every adjective you could use to describe anything. You don’t even recognise the sounds you’re making now; you barely sound human, squealing and crying like an animal.

“Yeah,” Yunho grunts. “Bark, bitch.”

You’re fully sobbing now, a broken, dripping mess as two cocks pump in and out of you. Seonghwa’s fingers are digging into your hips, no doubt leaving bruises to match those blooming under the impact of your colliding bodies each time they thrust. Yunho’s hands are in your hair, tugging your head backwards; it stretches your neck painfully, but you doubt he cares; the only thing on either of their minds is using you for their own satisfaction. Only the sound of laughter reminds you of the presence of the other six and you crane your neck to look at them.

“Look at her,” Jongho laughs. “Taking it like a fucking whore.”

Emboldened by his comments, Yunho speeds up, thrusts getting quicker and harder by the second. You feel your walls clenching around his cock, squeezing him each time he moves.

Seonghwa’s thrusts are just as fast, hitting you just as deep, but in the more familiar cavern of your pussy, they’re not quite as overwhelming as Yunho’s. You can tell by their tightening grips on you when they’re close, slowly losing their control.

“I’m gonna fucking cum in you,” Yunho growls. “I’m gonna get you pregnant and fucking keep you here. Our little breeding bitch.”

You cry out, half pleasure half pain, and it pushes you over the edge; with a shout he releases inside you, hot load filling you up and leaking out around his dick before he pulls out. Seonghwa follows quickly, unloading in your pussy before pulling out, leaving you fucked out and leaking onto the floor.

“Disgusting bitch,” someone says.

Seonghwa touches your hip almost gently, and you find yourself crumpling to the floor, unable to hold yourself up anymore. Sat in a pathetic heap, you faintly see the men surrounding you.

“You did a good job, Mira,” Hongjoong says, and he almost sounds fond. “A maid will take you to your cell.”

Cell. The word hits you like bricks crashing down; knocking the wind out of your chest and dropping you back into your reality— you tried to beat them. You failed. You’re trapped. You know they see the terror creep back onto your face. You imagine they enjoy it.

Seonghwa pats your head, and for a moment it looks like he wants to kiss you; instead he just smiles, nodding curtly before following his brothers as they walk away. Hongjoong is the last to exit, leaving you alone, still crumpled on your knees and covered in cum on the floor of the hall. Before he closes the door, he turns back to you; his eyes hover over your shivering form and a smile flickers.

“If you can keep this up, Mira,” he says, “we’ll probably let you live.”

The slam of the oak door echoes around the room.

thanks for reading! i think this is darkest fic i’ve ever written. i’m trying to start branching out into more plot-heavy fics along with the usual smut, so this is something of an attempt in that area. your feedback is much appreciated and motivates me to write more. reblogs and comments are appreciated. requests open. love🖤🖤🖤

taglist open!

#ateez smut #ateez hard hours #kpop smut #ateez x reader #ateez hard thoughts #seonghwa smut #yunho smut #mafia ateez #ateez au #ateez fanfic #dom seonghwa #dom yunho #mulloey writes

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 months ago

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Hello! How does a beast cookies x reader sound? Also the reader has a calming effect on cookies and is basically the groups therapy cookie. Like what if-

Shadow milk after episode 8: DO YOU KNOW WHY IM LIKE THIS?!?

Reader:Wanna talk about it?

SMC: haha..hahahHAHAHA-

*ten minutes later*

SMC leaning on our shoulder: And that was after Mystic started going off the deep end-

Reader calmly listening: mmhm

Interesting 👀👍

I'd like to imagine they're a Legendary who's been around for as long as the Beasts have, travelling the world to give therapy and healing to those who need it. So they're def more powerful than the average cookie

......

As a Legendary Cookie, it was your job to help give all denizens of Earthbread healing--mentally and emotionally, that is.

Your calming abilities enable virtually any cookie to feel relaxed in your company. Even those who are totally closed-off and were baked with the hardiest dough will eventually confide in you about whatever's on their minds.

And you give them advice, always knowing what to say, or simply listen and let them express their emotions.

You've been around for as long as the Five Beasts have, so you've seen a lot in your travels...including the many days and nights they spent terrorizing the world after they twisted their virtues into vices, trying to ease cookies' fears.

The Witches deemed them monsters worthy of being locked up in the Silver Tree...yet you realized they have never once considered why they fell from grace.

Having spent so much time helping the normal everyday folk, you felt some guilt in not checking in on the Beasts to make sure they were okay.

They were adored and revered figures..but even they might've needed somebody to talk to every once in a while.

Maybe they wouldn't have fallen down that dark path if you paid more attention to the signs....

But after they break out of the Silver Tree and face the Ancient Heroes who've "stolen" their soul jam, they hide away until they can figure out how to restore their powers and take their revenge.

That's where you come in, having visited Gingerbrave's kingdom and hearing about the Ancients' encounters with them.

You decided to go on a quest to Beast Yeast, hoping to find them and simply talk, which obviously wouldn't be easy had it not been for your powers.

They have some resistance to it, but one by one...their walls come down and you start to understand them better.

Shadow Milk

Of course, the last one to fall from grace had to be the first one you come across.

It's not long after his retreat from his Spire, still not back at his full strength, wanting to get away from Candy Apple and Black Sapphire Cookie for a while.

They finally saw him be defeated and..humiliated by Pure Vanilla Cookie, yet they're willing to stay and follow his every word?

Either way, he wanted to be alone--but unfortunately for him, that doesn't last long as you seize your opportunity to talk to him.

"Shadow Milk Cookie. The Fount of Knowledge-"

"Pah! Dunno who that other guy is. Only Shadow Milk Cookie is....here..?" He spins around, his eyes comically wide as he instantly recognizes your face. "You....you're-"

"Not dead? I've been around for as long as you, my friend." You chuckle. "I don't crumble easily."

"...it's amazing you haven't. Thought you would'a cracked under the weight of everyone's problems by now. But you're still trying to play the hero, huh?" He sneers. "Just like.....him. Riddle me this, [y/n] cookie...do you feel any guilt?"

"...I do."

"HAH! Well you...wait, you do?" He blinks. "Do you even know what I'm talking about?"

"Yes."

"..you're terrible at following this script. You're supposed to be confused and scared-"

"We're not on a stage, Shadow Milk Cookie. I'm not fooled as easily." You cut him off, firmly yet gently. "This is reality. And the reality is...you've been hurt so profoundly. Watching so many cookies embrace deceit instead of your gospels of truth must have been...difficult. You felt betrayed by them."

"........"

"Ever since..that day..I've felt guilty for not reaching out to you or the others sooner. I probably wasn't clear about my doors being open for you, too. I've been waiting for a chance to talk to you again. To help you feel heard, even though this was long, long overdue."

"Wow...and I thought Nilly had the biggest savior complex." He scoffs, trying to resist your magic's advances on his psyche. "Nice try, but you're not gonna get inside MY head, too. Nope. Nuh-uh. I'm not one of your fragile-minded cookie who unloads their entire sob story in one measly conversation!"

"It's not fragile to-"

"Besides..we haven't spoken in eons, so you don't even know HALF of what I've been through!! Not within the Silver Tree! NOT with Pure Vanilla Cookie! Not even before I turned to deceit!!"

Despite his anger, you remain unperturbed. "Exactly my point. So..why don't you help me understand? Let's talk about it."

"....like....right now?"

"Yeah? Unless you have an important date tonight."

"....hahahaha...AHAHAHAHA. Didn't you hear me, stupid cookie?! Obviously not, so allow me to rephrase it.......THERE'S NO WAY IN HELL THAT I'M EVER GOING TO-!!"

Fast forward to sometime later, when Black Sapphire Cookie finally finds his master...leaning on your shoulder while basically trauma dumping. The deceitful Beast was speaking from his mind, unfiltered, to a Legendary Cookie he's never met before.

"-and that was after Mystic Flour Cookie started going off the deep end. But could anyone blame her? No. Those damn cookies got greedy and began asking for the impossible."

"Mhm." You simply nod. "And after seeing her like that...what was going through your mind?"

"...like we were all just...losing it. So I guess hopeless? Scared that we were getting out of hand? I dunno. All I wanted was to be their teacher, to show them the truth....and look at me now!! I warned Pure Vanilla Cookie he'd fall down the same path if he continued the way he was headed...that traitorous prick.."

"He did tell me you rejected his friendship. But..would you consider revisiting that?" You hummed.

"I...no. I mean..I....I-I don't know.." He seems confused with himself. "I told the guy I hated him! What doesn't he get? He could have finished me off! Why does he still try after all I did to him?!"

"Because he sees the good in everyone, even you. I don't fully understand the soul jam connection, but...it seems like he's aware of your true feelings. Your loneliness after all that time spent in the tree. And you keep trying to deny them, afraid to draw back the curtain and express what you really feel."

"But when you've been a ruler of deceit since forever..why would I ever do that?! I don't need anyone! I....I especially don't need you or that stupid goody two shoes soul jam thief! But he....he just...why doesn't he just quit already?!" His voice cracks at the end. "H-He knows I'm a lost cause.."

Even though you can't see his face, the eyes on his hair are weeping, and that prompts you to put your arm around him. "It's easy for you to lie to others, but lying to yourself is way harder."

Despite not saying anything back, he doesn't reject the comfort.

In fact he unknowingly leaned against you more.

Black Sapphire can't believe what he's seeing--almost certain it's an illusion, but no.

This was the master of deceit confiding in someone else. Someone more familiar.

Despite feeling slightly jealous, he decides to leave you two be, distracting Candy Apple Cookie so she doesn't barge in and ruin things.

Burning Spice Cookie

"Ah, Burning Spice Cookie. Herald of Change, time hasn't been kind to-"

"You DARE utter that title?!! It is dead to me..just like you will be in a few moments!!" The Great Destroyer looms over you with his axe at the ready, scowling as you crossed paths with him in the ruins of his Spice Temple.

It was considerably difficult to even speak to him alone, especially with the last remnants of the Wild Spice warriors and Nutmeg Tiger Cookie trying their damnest to fight off your calming abilities...but not even their hardy dough can block it forever.

They let you through to see their master at his lowest point, even though he was still on a high from battling the recently awakened Golden Cheese Cookie.

"That's too bad. I was hoping you'd remember me. I was there when you once held that title with pride" You huff. "You welcomed me into your kingdom with open arms, allowing me to speak to the Wild Spices who had troubles on their minds, and the warriors who came home scarred by the things they've seen."

"....ah...you do seem familiar." He muses. "That's right. You're [Y/n] Cookie. The Legendary warrior of words. I bet you've never lifted a weapon in your life."

"My tongue is the only weapon I need, Burning Spice Cookie." You counter with equal sass.

Least to say...you intrigue him. You didn't cower, and even after all this time and knowing the things he's done, you sought him out anyways.

All just to....convince him to share his feelings?

He had a lot to say, but didn't even know where to begin.

He wondered where you were when kingdoms crumbled around him.

He wondered where you were when he kept watching those he loved die while he continued on living.

He wondered where you were when he decided that the only cure to his pain was destruction.

"Well, it's useless here. You could never understand what I-"

"So help me understand. That's why I do what I do. To better understand all Cookies I meet." You frowned slightly. "You were so convinced that you had to be strong for your people. To act like the passage of time hadn't dimmed your light. I understand why you never visited me. And for that, I apologize. I should've put more effort into-"

"Don't apologize. There's nothing you could have said or done to change the way I felt back then." He growled. "What would have been the point?"

"Maybe not, but talking about what and how you're feeling is better than keeping it all inside. You have your generals, sure..but you seldom speak with them. Not wanting to seem weak or soft-doughed in their eyes."

"When they only ever see you as a god, why would...." Suddenly, he's aware of the vulnerability he was showing, and his whole demeanor flips on its head. "GRRRAHH!!" He slams his axe down, nearly splitting the earth between you. "All I feel is pissed off that you're trying to get inside my head! Who told you where I was, mind reader?!!"

"Oh..just a little golden birdie." You calmly reply. "I heard you two had a glorious final battle."

"...ah yes. In spite of my loss, it was...the most entertaining battle I've had in a long time." He grins, recounting that fight.

"Really? Do tell."

Before you know it, he's back to talking again--about the battle, what happened before that, and the rest is history.

Your calming powers have been hard at work, but you've finally gotten him to open up a little more, and somehow he feels...lighter?

It's weird feeling. Weird, but new.

At that time, Nutmeg Tiger returns to her senses and sees you talking to him, furious that she let her guard down and that you were speaking to her lord without permission--

Only for you to calmly stand up and walk away, while she's shouting for you to come back and explain your actions.

"Hexing a Wild Spice is one thing, but turning your back on one will be your LAST mistake-!"

"Enough, General. They will not trouble us anymore."

"...they won't? But my lord, they put a spell on us-!"

"I said enough." He snaps. "I've known [Y/n] Cookie since before you were baked. Has their spell impeded your duties?"

"No, but-"

"Then return to your post."

"....as you wish, Great One." She eventually leaves, and he continues to ponder over your talk with him.

Mystic Flour Cookie

Tracking her down in Beast Yeast was a rather simple task.

All you had to do was look where the white fog has gathered. Luckily, your abilities grant you immunity to the apathy that ordinary cookies would easily be overwhelmed by.

When Mystic Flour laid waste to the world with pale ailment storms, doctors, nurses, and healers dealt with the physical symptoms of patients--while you assisted with the mental.

They may not be crumbling and have flour-white dough anymore, but apathetic thoughts linger in their minds long after treatment. Passions are lost and replaced with nihilism, and your duty was to bring them out of those dark places and remind them of what they loved and how it's all worth it and meaningful in the end.

Luckily, you were able to guide them back on the right path again, and suddenly their eyes regained their spark; their dough's color was returned, and you'd send them off to resume their normal life.

After the Dark Cacao Kingdom was 100% liberated from the flour storm, you ventured to Beast Yeast to find her, eventually meeting Cloud Haetae Cookie, who had been revived.

They didn't seem bothered by the fact their own master killed them, taking you personally to see her and giving you steamed rolls as they talked about her battle with Dark Cacao Cookie.

"She almost convinced him to accept futility. She was so, so close..but then that fool had to go and summon these two dragons to help him-"

"Who are you speaking to, Cloud Haetae Cookie?"

Before you could respond, Mystic Flour takes one look at your face and immediately knows who you are.

"[Y/n] Cookie. You're the reason why my clouds of apathy have lifted.."

"Well..having a bunch of nameless, faceless cookies moping about doesn't exactly make the world go round, my dear." You jest, although you fall silent as she just stares through you. "I know your heart carries a most heavy burden. The burden of not being able to satisfy everyone..and being a victim of-"

"You have not once set foot in my Ivory Pagoda to talk. And now, after all these years..." Given her pause...you knew her emotions were trying to bubble to the surface. Like yeast rising.

"I understand. I've heard it from the others already. This...comes much too late." You bow your head. "I remember seeing those lines, and I didn't wish to be perceived as another beggar. I'm sure you already knew my wish."

"They always expected you to solve their problems." She continued. "But it never feels like enough, does it? Don't you grow weary of their endless demands? Their pleas for you to "fix" everything wrong with them? You can only help them so much before they bleed you dry and give you nothing, [Y/n] Cookie. Not even a "thank you". Trust me...I have been there." Her face darkens. "We are not so different."

"Perhaps not. We've always looked out for the best interest of cookies...at our own expense." You agreed. "But I know a lot of them have appreciated my help. I'm sorry they never gave you that same respect, Mystic Flour Cookie."

"I do not dwell on it, for it is futile. It's a shame that you would never come to accept that same futility."

"I don't see a reason to start now," you chuckle, before you talked to her more about your recent work and the cookies you've helped, including Shadow Milk and Burning Spice.

It's clear that you reminded her of her old self a lot--before all the selfish cookies came along and attributed to her pain and corruption and imprisonment.

She thought she could talk you out of that path, certain you'll realize what true futility is like she did...

But you remain steadfast in your duty to help all cookies you meet. Even her.

#this request reads like a silly meme but then i serious'd /ref #clanask #cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #mystic flour cookie #mystic flour cookie x reader #mystic flour x reader #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk x reader #burning spice cookie #burning spice cookie x reader #burning spice x reader #headcanons #platonic #cookie reader #hurt/comfort

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tender-rosiey · 1 year ago

Text

desire — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: me? not sticking to the poll? no wayyy 😙 I AM SORRY I COULDNT RESIST HEIAN!SUKUNA X CONCUBINE!READER next up will be the dad one (I hope) <3

the servants jump in fear as they hear yet another loud crash thunder through the hallway. some of them even latch onto the pillars near them, fearing that the shaking ground would crumble right under their feet.

“uraume, another one!” they hear their lord’s voice shout venomously.

they realize that if the collapsing ground doesn’t kill them then there is a possibility that sukuna might do it himself.

for some reason, this morning, sukuna has been in a terrible mood. with the first ray of sunlight, he had slammed the door of the chambers open.

with an ever-permanent scowl, he scanned the hall filled with concubines and servants.

his chest was heaving slowly; his breath almost scalding hot as he breathed out. he looked at uraume and says, “I need five people sent to the vacant room this instant.”

with no other word, he turned and exited the hall, closing the door with a bang.

the servants were wide-eyed, and they frantically looked at each other.

some of them started weeping, scared out of their minds that they might be chosen. others were considering the option of fleeing because what can they do so uraume doesn’t choose them for whatever massacre sukuna was planning?

uraume exhaled lightly, “you have heard lord sukuna,” they stared at the myriad of quivering servants, emotionless, “stand in line.”

and so it was.

now, on the other side of the door is sukuna crushing the skull of yet another servant. he breathes heavily, fury flowed through his veins.

he stares at the pool of blood on the ground, the splatters of it on the walls, and the splashes of it on the ceiling. his jaw tightens as he thinks of the reason of why all of this happened.

yesterday was the first night he had ever spent with you.

of course, that entailed bedding you—the norm for your position—but what had sukuna in a turmoil was the conversations, the words exchanged, and soft touches you had given him before anything.

he had seen you in the estate on occasion, acknowledging you as one of the better looking concubines, but it was only yesterday that he actually interacted with you.

from the moment you entered his room to the moment you left, it was all like none other.

he had never entertained the idea of making conversations with his concubines as they only had one purpose—to serve him. on days when he was in a good mood, he would tease, speak lowly, anything to get a reaction.

all of that was to fuel his own pleasure, since he hated stagnancy.

to your luck, though, yesterday, he felt very pleased—whispers of it being caused by defeating yet another considerably strong opponent. so, he talked to you.

“so, what’s your name?” he asked, small smirk playing on his face, when you were first brought into the room. pretty little thing you were seated in front of him, eyes not knowing where to look and trying to keep in mind all the instructions uraume told you.

he expected you to be meek, bordering on shy.

however, despite maintaining humility as you were told, you spoke your name with pride, and for the first time since you entered, you looked him in the eyes.

he should’ve had you killed for that little act; however, he noted that you immediately averted your eyes after it. perhaps, it’s your way of screaming ‘remember me’, a way to engrave yourself into his memory even for a millisecond.

it had sukuna smiling smugly before commenting, “you’re quite bold…and peculiar,” he rested his chin on his palm, “did they not inform you to not look me in the eyes unless you’re told to?”

you straightened your shoulders and spoke carefully, “I was, but I was taught by my parents to be prideful of who I am.”

“and pride is a good thing for servant to display in front of their king?”

your eyebrows furrowed, and you pursed your lips, mumbling, “no—but I was born like this, my lord, so I apologize.”

he chuckled, hand holding your face and moving it with ease, “I should have you decapitated for that attitude.”

your eyes drifted to the window, but the nail that sunk lightly into your cheek snapped you back to reality. sukuna scowled, “look at me when I speak to you.”

“didn’t you say that I am not to do that, my lord?” you asked, looking him straight in the eyes.

“I changed my mind,” he grined devilishly, “you complaining?”

“I could never.”

he leaned closer to you and whispers, “smart girl.”

and so, the night went as he took you for himself. what surprised him in the whole ordeal is that he found himself being just a tad bit gentler when tears prickle at the corner of your eye.

he actually spoke to you through it, but what resonated with him the most is what happened after.

you slowly gathered your robes with all the strength you can muster. however, sukuna called out from his position on the bed, “did I order you to leave?”

you blinked in confusion and spluttered, “b-but uraume said that you don’t like—”

“and my orders are above uraume’s: you are to stay until I tell you to leave.”

you clutched your belongings to your chest. you felt your heart squeeze in a bit of fear and excitement. you have been caught off guard by him more than once already.

you had come in expecting a ruthless and painful night, but it was surprisingly pleasant.

the little talk before it was also easier on your heart than you had assumed. you thought that he wouldn’t even bother talking to you and would just take you like an animal as you have heard the concubines bellow and wail.

so when a thumb was wiping away your tears and a hand was holding your waist with a light touch, you wondered whether the man you were with was truly the king of curses, the man that everybody was screaming and thrashing about.

though, you felt that it might be a test of some sort—something to make you lower your guard before he can do what he truly wanted.

so, with that in mind, you spoke up, “but my lord, I can’t possibly stay in your own chambers; that would be disrespecting you.”

he grunted, a frown making its way to his face, “I decide what’s disrespectful and what isn’t, so you better make your way here, before you regret it,” his eyes flashed with a threat, “I don’t have the time to deal or put up with your every objection.”

instantly, you scurried to the bed where he is comfortably laying down while propping body up on his elbow.

you stood just by the bed and asked, “where would you like me to—”

his hand held your forearm and pulled you right beside him, so you’re laying by his side and still looking up at him. he smirked down at you, “you ask too many questions.”

you didn’t know what to do with your hands. they gripped your kimono while you murmured, “sorry.”

he sighed and with a roll of his eyes, he hummed, “you will stay with me until midnight; you are to entertain me until then.”

you looked at him in shock then you looked at the window. your mouth hung open before you snapped your head back to him, “but the sun has only just set.”

with a raise of his eyebrows and a small smirk, he inquired, “you planning on disobeying me?”

“never!”

“then get to it.”

and you did, gathering all the stories, anecdotes, poems, and songs you can think of to fill the time. during your hours with him, you find out that sukuna is a man of interest in literature.

and there were multiple times where you would talk about a story, assuming that he doesn’t know it only for him to continue the telling of the story himself.

during your hours with him, you saw that he is not completely disregarding of people around him. you saw that he acknowledges those who are truly strong. you saw that he wants to make a world that is whipped to satisfy his own desires.

his rampages are not completely based off of bloodlust.

during your hours with him, you felt content in a way you never thought you could experience with him of all people.

but, during his hours with you, sukuna has never felt so conflicted yet so satisfied. satisfaction should be something good for him, as he only does what he pleases.

if your company is what pleases him then your company shall be what he gets, right?

but why your company? why are you different? why is his pleasuring dependent on you and your talking and not the death that he could bring you?

he was confused and annoyed, yet he was content at the same time. he was so caught up in you that midnight had fallen to him suddenly. he only noticed when the moon’s light hits your face, and your face has never been clearer—even under the sun.

he noted each and every delicate feature, and he frowned because why is he doing it? what does he get from it? he needed time for himself to think this through.

he needed to know why does he feel this way and only from a night spent with you?

surely, you had done something.

so, he silently raised his hand, and you paused right away. your hands settled on your lap, and your smile slowly turned into a thin line, one that’s nervous as you await his next order. he looked up at you, eyes burning.

he then commanded you sternly, “leave.”

you nodded, wasting no time in gathering your things and scurrying out of the chambers but without a small and hesitant, “good night, my lord.”

sukuna’s eyes widened a fraction as he looked up at the door closing behind you. he groaned, throwing his back. he figured that he could just think about it in the morning when he wakes up, but the thing is

he doesn’t wake up

because he doesn’t sleep.

thoughts flooded with images of you, your voice, and your touch to the point that no slumber was he granted. it drove him insane. he is the king of curses; he shouldn’t be tied to a thought of one person, a mere concubine at that.

he racked his brain for the cause of it, but he couldn’t think of any. since the moment you came in till the moment you went out, he had kept his eyes on you.

he thought it was to make sure that you don’t do anything foolish, but he doesn’t know when did his eyes follow you just for you.

so, with anger swirling in his gut, he got up and did what he can to quench his anger, and that’s how everything got this point:

him standing in the middle of the—formerly vacant—room that is now filled with flesh and painted with blood and you who is treading through the gardens with a blissful smile.

your thoughts wander to the night before as you reminisce every soft touch and every little praise you were granted, and it lifts your mood even more.

unaware of the chaos that happened in your absence, you entered the hall where half of the people have disappeared.

your eyebrows furrow, and you look at the weeping ladies, “where are the rest?”

hiccups are all you hear, and eyeshot eyes are what you see. their sobs are unseizing even as they look you in the eye. you hear light footsteps behind you, so you turn and see uraume standing at the door.

they look you in the eye, “are you y/n?”

you nod slowly, and they hum, “lord sukuna has requested for your presence.”

you light up considerably while the other concubines shake in fear as their eyes dart to you. one of them jumps out of her place and latches at you, “no! no! don’t go! he will—”

“silence!” uraume snaps.

the lady holding onto you quickly lets go and crawls back to hide behind the others.

she grips tightly onto the shoulder of the woman in front of her, tears streaming down her face as she is faced with uraume’s sneer.

uraume looks up at you and affirmed, “go.”

after a while, you finally find yourself face to face with the entrance of sukuna’s chamber.

you take a deep breath, and you carefully push the door and speak up softly, “my lord, you called for me?”

you feel a hand roughly clutch your arm and snatches you inside. you are then slammed against the wall. you let out a yelp as pain shoots up your spine.

you squeeze your eyes shut, afraid of the sight that you will see.

and even though you can’t see his eyes, you can feel the heat from his glare. the venom dripping from his voice doesn’t help as he sneers, “what have you done?”

you force your eyes open slowly, and you stutter, “w-what?”

a hand flies to your throat and is wrapped securely around it. you choke out a small, “my lord!”

his grip tightens, and you feel tears form in your eyes and flow down your face.

more than ever, you feel the fear that his looming figure sends through everybody else, you feel the fire of his red eyes scorch your skin, and you feel the aura that everybody talked about.

an overwhelming evil.

“I don’t understand what game you’re playing, but you better stop it this instance,” he threatens, and you let out a sob.

“what game, my lord? I don’t understand!” you manage to choke out.

your hear him let out a breath before he says lowly, “I have told you that desires and pleasures are fluctuating, right?”

fearing for your life, you nod desperately. you feel his grip loosen, and he leans down to rest his forehead on your own.

with furrowed brows and a deep scowl, his eyes bore into your own as he holds your face up with his other hand, “then why do I still desire you?”

you blink owlishly at him then speak cautiously, “didn’t you say that you take what you desire?”

he raises an eyebrow, urging you to continue. slowly and hesitantly, you raise your hand to cup his face.

you look him up in the eyes, and you find them following your every moment. “then what’s wrong with,” you hesitate, “with taking this one?”

you look innocent as you look up at him, but to him, your words are nothing but.

with a low chuckle, he pulls your face closer to his own, “temptress,” and he seals your lips with his.

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do not copy or plagiarize or I will send yuuta after you

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen x reader #ryomen x you #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jjk x y/n #jjk sukuna x reader

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ozzgin · 3 months ago

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Yandere School and Celebrity Crushes

How does the yandere school react to your latest celebrity obsession? content: gender neutral reader, stalking and manipulation, parody

Your classmate inspects your report, finishing with a satisfied nod. Indeed, this must be one of your best attempts so far – the keen eye for detail, the wide variety of stolen data, the thoroughly compiled research. He tries his best to maintain a humble stance, yet he can’t help the faint smirk forming on his face; surely this must be the result of his professional advice.

“Fantastic job, (Y/N),” he praises solemnly. “Though I’ll say, I’m not familiar with this name. Which classmate is it?”

“Oh, it’s not a classmate,” you say, waving in dismissal, “just a celebrity I’ve been a fan of lately.”

You’re still twirling your hair and relishing in the compliments you’ve received, so much that the sudden shift of the mood goes unnoticed. The class is quiet, and most of the students have turned to face you.

There are some unspoken rules that circulate around the school, you see. While someone catching your interest should be corrected at the earliest convenience, it is still preferred that it’s someone within your vicinity: a classmate, a teacher, a neighbor. Someone who can be hunted down easily. A celebrity, on the other hand, is a much more abstract kind of fear, a less palpable rival. Depending on the level of fame, tracking them down and teaching them a lesson may very well be a distant dream.

Consequently, the Yandere School students will have to get creative. Whatever it is that you love about this popular no-one will be skillfully tarnished into oblivion. They’re generous? What? Haven’t you seen the latest article! They’re supposedly out there stealing blankets from homeless people, strategically choosing the coldest days of winter to strike.

If you choose to be stubborn in your skepticism, your fellow classmates will continue to innovate their ways of constructing proof. They’ve held auditions for the closest lookalike, someone who will be featured in photographs and videos meant to aid their honorable cause. Sure, go ahead and don’t believe the news, but they come with proper visual evidence that cannot possibly be denied. Here’s a video of your beloved celebrity kicking a puppy. No, it’s not someone wearing a dog suit. You’re just not familiar with this breed, most likely.

Perhaps you wrongly assumed that the Yandere School relies only on crude, unsophisticated methods, like stalking, kidnapping, blunt force…In reality, these approaches merely graze over the entire arsenal. A true yandere, you will find, polishes the skill of manipulation first and foremost.

“I thought you’d continue your report on your celebrity crush?”

The young man bites his lip, simulating a worried expression.

“I don’t know, they seem to be a pretty terrible person, after all,” you respond with a sigh. “I guess you never truly know someone, especially if they’re famous. I’ll pick someone from school instead.”

A collective exhale, and everyone’s shoulders droop in relief. At last, the damned fiend has been defeated. With pockets filled with cease-and-desist orders and defamation lawsuits, the yandere school students and staff can finally be at peace. A small price to pay for your undivided attention.

[Yandere School Masterlist]

#yandere school #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere parody

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ddarker-dreams · 8 days ago

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Afterimage.

Yan Anaxa x Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, and imbalanced power dynamics. Word count: 1k.

Anaxa scoffs at your resolve to prolong this stalemate.

His attempts to get you to stop ignoring him have proven unsuccessful thus far. Nonetheless, for an academic of his caliber, persevering despite numerous setbacks is second nature. His eye devours your being, cataloging every minor reaction as he verbally pokes and prods at you. He’s tested multiple methods to get you talking. Condescension, subtle and not-so-subtle threats, and even negotiation. His methods grow more refined with each subsequent attempt. He’ll discard what didn’t work and expand upon what did.

Through all this, you’ve learned that you may be stubborn, but so is he.

“Your petulance is losing its charm,” Anaxa remarks.

His fingers drum along the fine wood of his desk, a habit he adopts when seriously displeased. You don’t so much as acknowledge him with a glance. Instead, you turn the page of your book, even though the contents are mostly lost on you. It’s scrawled in a foreign script, like many of the tomes in his possession. At least this one has diagrams to look at, even if they instill you with a vague sense of foreboding.

You can hear the frown in his voice when he says your name. Resolute, you act like it was nothing more than the wind.

Your stomach turns inside out at the sound of his chair scraping, indicating that he’s getting up. He approaches in slow, steady steps, his shadow enveloping your form. Curiosity gets the better of you; you’re unable to stop yourself from sneaking a glance. He’s always had a weighty presence. His unbridled thirst for knowledge gives him an air of gravitas, demanding respect even from those who rebuke him. You’re no different. Deep down, you think you’ll always admire his intellect to some extent. It’s a sickness without a cure.

“Shall I take this as an admission of your defeat?” he asks. His provocation has its intended effect; you scrunch up your nose and furrow your eyebrows. “No? It’s the only conclusion I can arrive at. Your vow of silence must be owing to my superiority as a rhetorician; why else would you be so hesitant to contradict me?”

He’s trying to rile you up, you think. Don’t fall for it. For him to stoop to this level, he must be at his wits’ end…

“Come now, apologize, and all will be forgiven. Though you might be acting like one, you’re no fool. Surely you’re aware that there’s nothing to be gained from this stunt.”

You must be getting under his skin. He never talks down to you like this, even when you ask inane questions to get on his nerves. Great professors have an infinite well of patience to draw from. He might not mince his words, but there’s no cruelty behind them, only a desire to see you learn and grow.

You’re veering into uncharted territory.

You pull back from your book, giving the impression that you’re considering his offer. In reality, his condescension has strengthened your determination. It took every ounce of self-control you have not to chuck this ridiculously heavy tome at him during his diatribe. Irritated or not, for him to frame it like he’s doing you a favor by offering ‘forgiveness’ is inconceivable. The room’s tension eases as you feign thoughtfulness. Then, just out of spite, you exaggeratedly flip to the next page, amplifying the sound.

The silence that ensues is deafening.

In a flash, your book is snatched away, putting you face to face with a seething Anaxa.

“Twenty hours, forty minutes and thirty-two seconds,” he practically hisses out. “That’s how long I’ve entertained this folly. No more. I’ve learned my lesson — so shall you.”

The fear written over your countenance is reflected in his burning pupil. Seeing it, he pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighing. Nothing can diminish the affection he holds for you, it seems. You were never grateful for it before, but you’re clinging to it like a lifeline now.

The wrath that struck him like lightning… you never want to witness it again.

“You’ve been keeping track of the time, Prof?” Your voice is slightly hoarse from disuse. His eye widens slightly, then narrows, apparently not finding the comment as amusing as you do. “Are you moonlighting as a clock these days?”

“Brazen beyond belief,” he shakes his head. “Of course, the first words you’d speak would be at my expense.”

“Flattery may have broken me sooner.”

He barks out a ‘hah!’

“I wrote verses for you before. If memory serves, you found creative uses for them.”

You forgot about that. Admittedly, they were well-written and imbued with a cleverness only he could offer. They still ended up serving as fodder for various crafts and machinations. Origami, kindling for a fire, papier-mâché… You clear your throat. He’s still upset with you, bringing up those past endeavors isn’t in your best interest.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you aren’t.”

You shift in your seat, his antagonism making you uncomfortable. You’ve always wondered how far you could push him. It’s gratifying in a way — tormenting your tormentor. There are few outlets for your frustration that work as well. Now, however, you have to admit he was right when he said you stood to gain nothing from this.

You hug yourself and look at the floor. “What now?”

He goes quiet. Eventually, he takes a seat beside you and crosses his legs. Your gaze at his side profile, noting how he’s staring straight ahead instead of maintaining eye contact. That’s unusual. As if sensing your thoughts, he turns to face you, his visage unreadable. All you can discern is a faint pink hue on his cheeks. Has all this conflict gotten him flustered? That doesn’t fit the image you have of him in your head.

“There were nights where our discussions went into the morning,” he says. The yearning in his voice isn’t lost on you. “Heh. Especially when you were determined to prove me wrong about something. I’d refuse to concede, just so I could hear you a while longer.”

You stare at him in disbelief, a faint ache rippling throughout your chest.

“Let’s talk, as we once did.”

"About what?" you ask.

"Anything," he replies without hesitation. “So long as I can hear your voice… anything will suffice.”

#just a short thing for him because he lives in my head rent-free #yandere anaxa x reader #yandere hsr x reader #yandere x reader #anaxa x reader #hsr x reader #anaxa brainrot #my stuff

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meiieiri · 1 year ago

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𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: so she tells him not to cry over the injustice of a life cut too short for at the end of all this, she’ll only be a dream.

pairing: ex-husband!toji fushiguro x terminally ill wife!reader | song inspo: soon you’ll get better, cancer

warnings: heavy angst, terminal illness (primary bone cancer, stroke and MS), mentions of divorce/past infidelity, allegories to cheating, major character death. please read at your own risk. | a/n: this was so heavy for me to write, i started writing at 2 in the morning, and it’s 6:34 now.

word count. 3k~

“Why can’t you do anything right?”

Toji should have noticed, he laments as he takes a sip of his cognac. He should have sensed that something was wrong sooner, maybe that way, he wouldn’t be begging to borrow some more time to make things right. Your fingers were trembling that day — the first time you ever ruined his morning coffee — your hands shaking uncontrollably as you washed the mug with a sorrowful look on your face, your eyes glossy with the tears you were desperately trying to hold back.

He shouldn’t have been so harsh, he realizes that now. Breakfast had been burnt to a crisp and ruined, sure, but nothing could compare to how he constantly ruins the one beautiful thing that has ever happened to him, who haphazardly spilled her smoothie on him when they first bumped into each other in Shinjuku just after he finally cashed in enough money with Shiu to get his laundry done.

Toji, whose senses have now been honed to pick up on the slightest of your sluggish movements and your pained and suppressed hisses, hears the bedsheets rustling and he instantly gets up before you could even force yourself out of bed. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He catches you before you could fall backwards onto the mattress, your skin appears cold and clammy, your thinning muscles stiff as a board — you must be having one of your episodes again. “What do you need?” he asks, his voice heartbreakingly gentle for the first time in months.

“Water.”

Your husband nods, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, hurriedly making his way to the dining table which was now kept in your bedroom so you aren’t forced to move around too much. The sound of water splashing into the glass fills the air and you feel another stabbing pain coarse through your joints.

Toji gingerly brings the glass of water to your lips and you sighed, an exasperated yet amused smile on your face. “I can do it, babe. Don’t worry.” Why did that sound like you were trying to convince not just Toji but yourself? You bring your bony hands to grip the glass and it takes everything out of your husband not to break into a fit of sobs when he sees your hand violently shaking with effort just to keep the glass steady.

His larger hands close around your defeated one. “I-I…I can do it, I did it yesterday. Y-you saw me.”

“Shhh, I know, it’s okay.”

You bite your lip to distract yourself from the anguish of realizing the truth behind the doctor’s words. Everything you feared was finally becoming your and Toji’s bleak reality.

“It’ll be a painful decline.”

Funny how you’re the one fighting to extend your life but Toji feels like he’s already gone ahead and passed on. Just a few minutes earlier, you were overjoyed to see him again. You didn’t think he’d see your text thinking that his new girlfriend must have asked him to block your number, and you most certainly didn’t expect him to arrive when you asked for him via a brief phone call to drive you to the hospital for your monthly checkup since he took the car with him when you separated. He made up a bullshit excuse when Yuko asked where he was going in such a hurry and he makes it to your old shared apartment to see you sitting on the driveway looking thinner and sicklier than ever — your eyes were sunken, and your cheeks were hollow.

Yet in spite of that, you gave him the brightest of smiles, waving shyly to him as he steps out of the driver’s seat. “Happy morning!” you smiled, greeting him with your signature good morning tagline which he used to happily wake up to everyday. There wasn’t a scintilla of resentfulness in your demeanor, and you genuinely looked so happy to see him for the first time since he moved out.

“How long?” Toji asked the doctor, his heart twisted into knots when he hears you happily humming in the MRI room as you put your clothes back on, oblivious to the solemn mood in the other room. You already knew what was going on, but you’ll just continue pretending that everything’s alright and that this is nothing more but a case of fatigue so as not to inconvenience Toji.

“A year, maybe even less.”

“And…you’re saying it’s best if she simply…doesn’t get the treatment?”

The doctor sighs heavily. She’s seen many cases like this before, but none as utterly hopeless as yours. Even if you did start the treatment, the lesions in your spinal cord have already entered the most severe stage, you were already exhibiting signs of autonomic nervous system distress — the tremors, the uncontrollable stuttering of your words, the growing loss of balance — and as if that wasn’t enough, the doctor also discovers that you were suffering from primary osteosarcoma.

There was no way to cure you now that it’s too late.

“I suggest we just focus on keeping her comfortable. The only thing left for us to do now is to bring her home. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing. I can’t bring you anywhere.”

By some miracle, you and Toji went out one night around four months before the divorce proceedings. He went home that day, exhausted beyond all belief from another mission, but he was in a good mood. Yuko was out working late tonight, so, he decides to take you out to your and his favorite izakaya for some yakitori.

Some time during the night, after downing three full bottles of sake together, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” you told Toji, tipsily kissing him on the cheek as you hop off the bar stool in the direction of the women’s room.

You couldn’t tell if you were staggering from the copious amounts of alcohol you ingested, but your legs were beginning to feel heavy, and for some ominous reason, you were slowly losing all sensation in your left leg. You try to hold onto one of the izakaya’s shōji panel decor pieces to regain your balance, but it was a futile effort in the end. Your knees suddenly buckle, and a sickening crack tears through your tibia as you fall to the ground.

“Are you alright?!”

Toji picks up on the commotion instantly and he sees the izakaya patrons crowding around the hallway leading to the restroom. He quickly makes his way over and a look of disgust appears on his features when he sees you crumpled on the ground and the mortifying sight of you having relieved yourself on the floor, tears of embarrassment staining your cheeks at the thought of your body suddenly malfunctioning like this.

Muttering out an ignorant apology for his seemingly drunk wife, he roughly picks you up, growing increasingly infuriated with you when one izakaya employee offers him a damp cloth to dry out your urine with. It was funny how quickly other people came to your aid — people whose names you don’t even know — while your own husband seems very reluctant to even touch you right now. He doesn’t speak to you on the way home even as you apologize while he’s loading you into the car, grimacing when the leather seat gets wet. “Toji, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened—“

“—Save it.”

What he should have said was: “Are you okay?”, “It’s alright.” or better yet, “I still love you.”.

At present, Toji decides on a whim to take you to Yokohama’s famed bayside today. It’s only a two hour drive from your place in Tokyo and Toji figures you must miss going on road trips by now with you cooped up at home all the time. “Toji, are you sure this is a good idea?” you murmured nervously as the car pulls to a stop by the bayside promenade. What happens if you can’t control yourself again? There doesn’t look to be a lot of public restrooms nearby.

Toji plants a reassuring kiss to your nose. “Babe, you remember what the doctor said, spending some time outdoors can do wonders for your health. Besides, didn’t you always love the coast?” He brings your hand to his scarred lips, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin before stepping out of the car to retrieve your wheelchair from the trunk.

“I know but what if I have another accident?” you said worriedly, rolling down the car windows so he could hear you. “What if I embarrass you again?”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about you.”

You’ve lost all control of your lower extremities three months ago, rendering you unable to walk and feel when you need to relieve yourself. Toji struggles with the wheelchair for a bit and a flash of sadness fills your heart when you see him take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He wasn’t angry, he was devastated. He looks wistfully at the boardwalk, a distant gaze trained on the sea. He remembers when you used to walk down this very lane, his hand protectively around your waist as you happily take selfies. He could still hear your fond giggles the last time the two of you went here.

“Why don’t you ever smile when I take pictures of you?”

Toji shoos away a pigeon from stealing a bite of his ice cream sandwich. He feigns an unamused look when you try to take another picture of him on your phone.

“Come on, I’ve been trying to get a shot of you all day! You still have to take pictures of me so I can post it on my Instagram feed!”

Your ever moody husband pinches off a small piece of bread and feeds it to the nosy pigeon. “You and your precious feed,” he bemoans jokingly.

“Please? Just one picture!“ you playfully nudged him. Truthfully, you just wanted to see him smile for once, a genuine one and not one of those lopsided smirks he usually gives you when he’s teasing you. “Please?” you pout knowing he can never say no to that adorable face you make when you really want him to do something or worse, buy something for you.

Sighing, he turns to look at your phone’s camera lens and you blush when a smile slowly illuminates his usually stoic face. Your thumb hovers over the stop recording function, not realizing you’re taking a video, but you can’t seem to press it. “What’s taking so long?” he holds the smile like he’s some cartoon character and you snap out of it.

“Oh shoot, it’s a video!” you laughed, and you begin to run down the boardwalk, eagerly getting away from Toji who demands that you delete it immediately. Of course, you’re no match for his borderline inhuman speed attributed to his athletic physique and he catches you by the waist, playfully swinging you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes.

Now, your giggles have gone silent.

Toji realizes now he should have indulged you more over the course of your relationship and subsequent marriage. Had he known that you won’t even make it to your third wedding anniversary, he would have allowed you to take as many pictures and videos of him as you’d like, he’d swallow his pride and he’d give you the brightest of smiles so you could happily post him on your social media accounts with a heartwarming caption about him being your “smiley hubby”.

More than that though, he should have taken more photos of you, mostly stolen candid shots, of course. You can’t catch him being all soft on you now. He still has a reputation to live up to after all. But more than that, had he known that your illness was intent on stealing every scrap of you from him, he should have made more effort in preserving all these memories. He should have kept everything from those toll tickets on your late night drives together when the two of you just needed a quick escape from the world, to receipts from your trip to Tokyo Disney Sea on your first wedding anniversary, and even simple convenience store receipts.

Toji should have kept everything down to the smallest of memories knowing one day, that’s all he’ll have to remember you by.

He opens the passenger seat’s door and he effortlessly gathers you into his arms, being extra careful with your fragile form as he sits you down on the wheelchair. He opens the backseat and he pulls out two different colored blankets, one sea-foam green and the other, rose pink. “Take your pick,” he smiles at you and you chuckled softly, pointing to the rose pink one. He happily covers your legs with it to keep you warm, stroking your cheek when you whisper a bashful ‘thank you’.

Suddenly, the wind picks up and your hair-clip that’s holding your locks in a low bun comes loose, and your head turns in the direction of where it flew off to. Toji is quick to take out his phone and he snaps a quick burst shot of you, your hair blowing in the wind, under the coastal spring weather. You turn to look at him and your face falls when you see him burying his phone in his pocket. Since you fell ill, you’ve become insecure of your appearance, banning your husband from taking pictures and videos of you altogether. “Toji, I thought I said no pictures.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The next day, you serendipitously find your photo on your Instagram handle with the caption: “Y/N — Yokohama, Spring, 2024” and when you swipe left, another picture, well to be more accurate, a screenshot of the video clip you accidentally took of him captioned: “Toji — Yokohama, Summer, 2022”.

“You don’t have to stick around for me. Please just go, I’m sure Yuko must be looking for you right now.”

Yuko, his new fiancé, had been blowing up his phone the entire day with texts demanding to know where he is and if he’s going to make it to their date that night. It’s 7 PM now, and Toji still hasn’t shown up to confirm their restaurant reservations. The damn witch will surely cuss him out when they see each other again, but for some reason, even if he tries, he simply cannot bring himself to give a flying fuck. Your immunologist and oncologist stepped out for a bit to allow you two a brief moment of privacy which had now stretched to an expanse of five hours since your results came in.

The air in the room is thick and heavy, not a single sound can be heard. Inside however, underneath this tough exterior he was projecting, Toji is throwing a fit, screaming at the sky like those broken men in those shitty Netflix romance tragedies he used to callously make fun of.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You knew, didn’t you?”

Toji’s bites his cheek trying to keep a lid on his emotions. He knows the answer. He just wants to hear you say it out loud. You hated him. You wanted nothing to do with him after he cheated on you with some girl he met at a bar in uptown Shibuya. That’s why you didn’t tell him, he didn’t deserve to know. “Shit,” he whispers harshly, crumpling the medical abstract in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Was it because you hated me? Is that it? You didn’t think I’d worry about you?”

You screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. You didn’t hate him, not even when you have every reason to. He abandoned you, left you to waste away and to die and yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to resent him for the simple reason that he is the literal love of your life, the reason behind your smiles, your happy mornings and passionate midnight hours. “At first, I thought I was fine, maybe just fatigued or something.”

“Don’t lie. You knew something was going on and that something in your body was seriously fucked up.”

“And we weren’t married anymore so, I didn’t think it was right to tell you…I wanted to though, but I didn’t want to intrude on you and Yuko,” you said meekly. Even in your greatest hour of need, you were still thinking of him, putting him first even when he doesn’t deserve it. “I-I…I don’t hate you enough to worry you, to make you feel that you could have done something to prevent this. Because I’m telling you right now, regardless if you were faithful or not, I was bound to get sick anyway. You couldn’t have done anything to change that.”

“But I could have been there. I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have downplayed everything.” He says this as if he wants to shake this noble, self-sacrificing bullshit attitude out of your system. “I’m your husband. I should have been there.”

You flash him a heartbroken smile at his little slip-up, so, even now, he was still referring to himself as your husband, not your ex-husband. “To see me waste away? Babe, I don’t want you to see that.”

You begin to feel tears streaming down your face, the emotions you were experiencing now flowing like a free river after an entire dam is destroyed. Toji watches you unravel before his eyes and his bottom lip begins to tremble. What has he done? Dear god, what has he done to his poor, poor wife?

“I want you to remember me healthy, I want you to remember me as myself not this…sickly pitiful woman you’re unlucky to call your ex-wife…besides, after all this, I’ll only be a dream.” A mere passing second in his life. “And believe me, my life wasn’t so bad.”

He loses it at that.

“Just stop this, Y/N! Stop acting like you’re not scared shitless of dying, like you’re not gonna have regrets once all this is over! Stop pretending that things are gonna be alright one day because it won’t! Not when I’m now being forced to accept that you won’t get better, not when I’ve wasted so much time putting you through hell and back instead of taking care of you like a proper husband should, and certainly not when I’m suddenly supposed to learn to say goodbye and to live without you! Because fuck that, Y/N!”

You are left speechless at that.

Toji was never one to lose his cool, even during your worst arguments, he may slide a few snarky remarks here and there but Toji Fushiguro…never yells, and he doesn’t sob either.

You hesitantly stand up and walk over to him, crouching down in front of him as he covers his tear-stained eyes with his right hand while the other is crumpled around your medical abstract. Taking his left hand, you gently remove the medical abstract from his grip, and for the first time in so many months, you feel one another’s warm skin against each other. You press your forehead to his hand as you wept with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be a dream. I want you to be real.”

“Can’t you be bothered to clean up in here?!”

You wake up from your nap, you’ve been battling muscle and joint pain the entire day, the slightest of movement causing you to double over in agony and because of that, you weren’t able to clean the apartment today. You slowly get up from the couch, being extra cautious not to make any sudden movements. “Well?” Toji presses, his lips curled into a scowl.

“I’m sorry, I was feeling a little tired,” you sighed heavily, picking up a broom to sweep the living room floor despite the excruciating pain you were in. Toji rolls his eyes, handing you a Manila envelope. “What’s this?” you asked softly, peering inside.

“Divorce papers,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Everything stops, even the very rise and fall of your chest halts into an uneasy stasis. “I already signed them. I just need your signature then, I’ll move out by tomorrow.”

You must be dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation to all this. You’re asleep, in a deep REM sleep, utterly oblivious to the world. This wasn’t happening. But you could feel the rough surface of the brown envelope, and you could still feel the agonizing stabs of white hot pain throughout your body. Glancing at Toji, you see him texting someone with an eager look on his face that screams: “I’m free.”.

Instantly, it dawns on you.

“Will she make you happy?” you asked, putting down the broom to look around for a pen but Toji pulls one he stole from the law firm office out of his pocket.

“She will,” he answers simply.

And you are indeed grateful that he is completely upfront about finding another while the two of you are married. It would have hurt much more, you silently remind yourself, if he had just upped and left without another word leaving you to wonder what went wrong between the two of you. This was Toji’s final act of mercy in your marriage, and he’s not opposed to honesty and truthfulness either. Not once did he try to change his phone’s lock-screen passcode, nor did he try to conceal the identity of the woman who was texting him every night while you slept fitfully next to him. It was almost as if he wanted you to find out, like he wanted you to know so you could back off yourself.

But if there’s one thing Toji loves about you, it’s your unending faithfulness to your promises, to your marriage vows, and your willingness to endure anything he threw at you. You never checked his phone, you never brought up his affair, you never got angry with him. You just kept silent, simply content with giving and giving…and giving while he milked you dry by taking, and taking and taking, tearing you to pieces bit by bit without hearing a single complaint fall from your lips.

You were a devoted wife, through and through.

And it bored the hell out of him, on top of your recent mishaps, he was done. Done with everything, and done with you.

“Okay.”

Come morning, he takes everything he owns with him and promptly proposes to the girl he’s been seeing for the past year. Two weeks later, your divorce is received by the Tokyo Family Court and is summarily approved and finalized. From that moment on, you and Toji went on your separate ways never to look back, you were each other’s yesterdays, and the love that existed between the two of you was nullified in favor of acquaintanceship…or so you thought.

“Y/N, I’m home!” Toji calls into the house as he comes back from your neighborhood’s pharmacy. You look up from the book you were reading, smiling ever so slightly at your husband who seemed to have a wonderful sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, kid,” he kisses the top of your head when he reaches your wheelchair.

“You seem happy,” you remarked positively.

“Well, for one, they replenished their stocks today and I managed to get you your steroids and painkillers so you’ll be able to sleep easy tonight,” Toji smiles, taking out the items from the pharmacy’s paper bag. “And I got you this neat memory foam cushion for your wheelchair.” He fluffs it up as a form of demonstration before placing it behind your back.

When he sees you smile, a sense of relief washes over Toji. You reach towards him, and he pulls you into an embrace. “Thank you,” you said, pure sincerity dripping from your voice. “For everything you do.”

“Anything for you.” He suddenly moves back and reaches into the tote bag you lended him. “Oh, and wait, before I forget, I have another surprise.”

You laughed airily. “Another surprise? Now, you’re just spoiling me!”

He pulls out a piece of paper from the tote bag and he places it in your hands as your eyes quickly scan over the document. Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize what it is. Did Toji really—? You couldn’t believe it. “A marriage pre-registration,” you said in awe. You read it again just in case to make sure that this wasn’t a figment of your sick body’s imagination, that this was real, that Toji genuinely wants to make everything right again. Your fingers skim over your typewritten names. “It has our names…we’re really—“ You can’t even finish your sentence without bursting into happy tears. “Are we—?”

Toji nods, gazing into your eyes, and as emerald and (E/C) clash for what seems to be an eternity lost in one another, he plants a kiss to your temple, coming up to embrace you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We are. The Tokyo Family Court, as far as I know, will approve our remarriage once we file this. So, you have to get stronger, okay?” He’s begging you at this point, despite your rapidly deteriorating condition. “Strong enough to see me fix everything. Strong enough to be there on our second wedding, strong enough to say our vows again.”

Your hand comes up to stroke his cheek from behind, and he nuzzles into your neck at your tender touch.

“I will. I promise.”

But you never really get to say your vows. Not comprehensibly anyway.

“Babe, can you say that again?”

Toji crouches by your bedside as you look at him apologetically. You were causing him trouble and pain again which is the last thing that you want to give him especially when’s fought and worked so hard to care for you, to keep prolonging this borrowed time you’re on. “To-ji. Toji.” You gaze at him apprehensibly, not really believing you can do it without crumbling.

“Come on, babe, you can do it. Say my name, please…Toji. I’m Toji.”

“Toooji-“ you slurred sadly. At this point, your Multiple Sclerosis has reached its end stage and has taken…everything from you: your ability to walk, your ability to control your muscle spasms and other bodily functions…and now, coupled with an unexpected stroke, your ability to speak. And you and Toji know that time is almost up, with you having come to accept it, while your husband still held onto hope. Your fingers gently graze over his face as best as your spasms and tremors allow you, starting from his forehead to his eyes, his nose, his cheek and finally, his lips, as if you’re memorizing it one last time. “Lo-ove you-“

Toji sniffles, and your fingers instinctively catch his warm tears. “I love you,” he whispers brokenly. “I do. I love you.”

You feel yourself tearing up as you’re forced to watch your beloved cry. And the worst part? You can’t do a thing about it. “D-oon’t c-cry—‘m okaay. Promi-miise…e’everyything ‘ill be okaaay.”

“Y-yeah,” he chuckles, trying to crack a joke even as hope dwindles. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking champ this entire time, you know? I’m so proud of you. So…so…proud that you’re still here.” He strokes your hair as you tread between the realms of the conscious and the unconscious. “Do you wanna go out today? The weather’s shit though. You’ll probably catch your death out there.” At the mention of the word ‘death’, Toji stops, falling into an uncomfortable silence.

You smile weakly at him. “Tiiredd—“

“You’re no fun,” Toji gently flicks your nose and you scrunch it up in displeasure. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding back an entire waterfall of tears. He knows it’s today. It has to be. You woke up today without your usual ‘happy morning’ greeting, and you refused to drink anything, much less eat anything. “You tired? Any pain?”

You shake your head. You’re as comfortable as you can be for the first time in months. Hospice nurses say humans are built to live the same way they are built to die, no person in this world has ever had the uncanny privilege of being able to look up ‘How to die?’ on a quick Google search and actually find a Wikihow on the morbid subject matter, nor is there anyone else who can teach another how it’s done. It’s just something humans know how to do without a manual, deeply ingrained in the very fabric of human existence is the fear of death, the fear of what comes after, the fear of a nothingness that could follow after living such a vibrant life. Your life was short, barely spanning thirty years, but you lived well: you fell in love, you got hurt, but you fell together again. Now it all has to come to an end, Toji will just have to take care of the rest.

And you weren’t scared.

Or at least you can’t look scared, if you were to be more accurate, you have to look strong and ready to accept the cards you’ve been dealt with for Toji’s sake. When he feels your hand start to slacken, Toji intakes a sharp, shaky breath of sheer panic. “Not yet, Y/N. Please. Not yet.”

He climbs into bed with you, bringing you closer to this desperate man you call yours. There was no getting better anymore, there was no miracle he could hang onto, no deity he could beg for death to spare you, no pill bottle he could pray to. He knew that from the start. But what he witnessed these past months, you’ve been the braver one between the two of you, you knew how to make the most of the rhythm this cruel world gave you and you graciously took him along to dance to the last song of the evening with you.

“There’s still hope. Just keep your eyes open. Just keep them open.” He presses his lips to your forehead, his delusion getting the better of him. “We’ll just keep trying…you can’t leave. You have to stay. You have to.”

“Thaank yoou—“ you softly told your Toji, your voice shrinking in decibels as you become a little drowsy, sinking into the warmth of the requiem of a life well spent.

Toji listens to you, his lips pursed, intent on making this final act of love — a love that is strong enough to say goodbye — a memorable one. And should the afterlife exist, he wishes to send you off with a smile, with the reassurance that he’ll be alright even if that was far from happening.

“Toji.”

“I want you to be real. And I don’t care if we’ll live on borrowed time. Another extra second with you…is enough to last me my entire lifetime.”

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paulyenvol6 · 3 months ago

Text

Something To Cry Over

Dark!Joel x female reader

Part 2

This is very very dark and very dirty so PLEASE be cautious. There are very triggering things in this story so only read it if you're sure you can handle it.

You're horny and can't sleep, so you beg Joel to make it better. At some point he gives in and offers to guide you while you pleasure yourself, but you demand more and more and eventually he snaps, making you take far more than you want and can handle.

Contains: non-con and dub-con elements, rape, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, forced creampie, dark!Joel, fingering (f receiving), mentions of deepthroats, degradation, humiliation, dirty talk, Joel being a creep, dacryphilia, angst, description of fear and pain, Joel getting off on reader's suffering, very dark and heavy themes, reader has blue eyes, pet names (kiddo, babygirl, sweetheart), daddy issues (and Joel referring to himself as daddy), age gap (reader calling Joel old)

Wordcount: 8,093

Masterlist

You sighed and it was much louder than you had wanted it to be.

"What," was the sharp answer out of Joel's mouth and all you could do was shut your eyes and chew on the inside of your cheek.

"Nothing," you said although it didn't sound very convincing.

But apparently that was all the reassurance he needed, because he rolled back onto his other side staring ahead of him at the wall of the tent, arms crossed. You kept quiet for a moment, weighing whether to speak up or not and perhaps even hoping that he might ask you again but when that didn't happen your eyes searched for his frame in the dark.

"Joel," you whispered and at first, there was no reaction. Should you say his name again or was he already asleep? Should you poke him in the side?

"What," he hissed, the anger clearly showing in his tone but you were used to that by now. This was Joel Miller and he seemed to have a good day considering he hadn't just ignored you.

"M'not feeling so well," you spoke, fingers intertwined to somehow magically get rid of the accumulated tension in your body.

"What?" he said again and you wondered if you would be able to get any other word out of him tonight.

"M'feeling weird," you whined, legs pressed together as you shifted in your sleeping bag to create some friction, anything to defeat the biting, throbbing heat between your thighs.

Joel on the other hand drew his eyebrows together, not at all aware of what was bothering you. You had seemed fine all day, jumping around, asking all of these usual annoying questions and now you were suddenly complaining about feeling sick? He just prayed you weren't infected.

Feeling concerned all of a sudden, Joel turned around again, eyes narrowed as he took in your face. Your cheeks were flushed, that much he could see in the darkness, and your eyes looked a little glossy.

"What is it?" he hissed, frowning at the way you chewed on your bottom lip.

"Just feelin' weird, s'all," you mumbled which evoked an annoyed sigh in him.

"You already fuckin' said that. What's wrong? You sick?"

You seemed to think about it for a few seconds before crawling to lay on your stomach, your cheek pressed to the ground so you could meet his gaze.

"No. I don't think so."

He exhaled loudly, the ends of his nerves prickling with tension because why did you have to speak so cryptically instead of just saying what was stressing you? He was exhausted, eyelids heavy and limbs aching so all he wished for was a good night of sleep that you were stealing from him right now.

"Then what the fuck is wrong with you? You're tryna play a joke on me or somethin'?"

"No," the answer came quickly before Joel could roll on his back and he suspiciously glared at you blinking a couple of times as he felt the drowsiness creeping up on him again.

"S'just… it's aching, Joel."

He had to scoff because he couldn't believe he was actually lying here at 11pm listening to your riddles and wasting his precious time with you, who seemed to be producing your words at a rate of one per minute.

"You're gonna tell me right now what's goin' on with you like a fuckin' grown-up or m'gonna ignore you for the rest of the night. You think I like wastin' my fuckin' time with some stupid teenager like you, huh?"

When he saw the glistening in your eyes he felt bad for a brief moment. But a second later that changed because when there was a familiar pout forming on your lips he was reminded of all the times that you'd start to sulk because things weren't going your way and you'd believed that if you let Joel know how bad and serious it was he would take care of everything. You were behaving like a princess and he really wanted to finally set an end to it.

He watched you expressionlessly, not budging to your will just because of that sweet little pout and instead waited for you to open your mouth. Once you realised that he was uncompromising tonight you actually complied, swallowing and then clearing your throat.

"S'aching… right here…," you whispered carefully darting down to your sleeping bag and this time Joel's brain started to race. You weren't actually…

"Between my legs. It's really uncomfortable, Joel. I can't sleep."

"Jesus fuckin' christ," he moaned and turned on his back while rubbing with his hand over his face. "You're fuckin' kiddin' me, kiddo, aren't you?"

He could see you shake your head, fists clenching around the sleeping back.

"No, Joel. I can't sleep 'cause of it."

"Then go jerk off or somethin'. God… Can't believe you're tellin' me this."

Joel closed his eyes because he feared if he looked at you it would do things to him he didn't want to happen. You and your little attitude that never failed to enrage him and piss him off but at the same time you were just too pretty. Too pretty to be close to and too pretty to keep his eyes on for too long.

He knew how fucked this was. You could be his daughter and Joel seriously had tried to see you that way. Him, as your protector and you as the person to keep safe but then there were these thoughts creeping up on him when your face looked so beautiful in the sunlight or when you reached for something and your shirt lifted a bit or when you wore those goddamn little shorts that showed off your legs –

"Please."

His eyes shot open again at the sound of your thin voice, insides twisting and a familiar warmth floating towards his center.

"Please, Joel. Do something."

An unnatural laugh left his mouth, eyes flashing at you because he was so angry with you and the fact that you couldn't leave him alone for a single night.

"What do you want me to do, huh?"

"Help me. Help me make it go away," you whispered, your voice sounding so whiny that he almost felt pitiful. Almost.

"What, am I supposed to teach you how to fuckin' masturbate? Can't do shit, can ya?" he growled loudly, his face only hardening at your glistening eyes. He wouldn't let you get under his skin just because you happened to have some pretty pair of blue eyes. But then a single tear escaped the corner of your eye, rolling down your cheek in the most cinematic and dramatic way that made Joel believe he was in a movie scene. He sighed and slightly sat up on the hard ground, your eyes following his every move.

"Goddamnit… If it's that bad go outside and I don't know, jerk off and shit."

He was grateful for the thick fabric of the sleeping bag because the image in his head, you burying your slender fingers inside your cunt made his cock that by now was rock hard uncomfortably twitch.

"I don't know how," your airy breath made his head turn and he narrowed his eyes at you, blood throbbing in his veins.

"What."

"I don't know. I don't know how to do it," you repeated and Joel inhaled deeply, his forehead furrowed.

"You're tellin' me you've never…"

Before he could end the sentence you shook your head, your eyes following the movements of your own fingers that fumbled with the sleeping bag.

"Never?" Joel asked again in disbelief of what you had just revealed to him.

"No. When was I supposed to?" you shrugged your shoulders and that was the moment when he snapped back to reality, gulping and then shaking his head as he laid down on the back again.

"Then do whatever feels good. You're gonna figure it out, m'sure."

"No Joel," you cried out and now it was you who sat up straight, your lips curled in a defiant and pleading pout. "Can you… Please, can you show me how?"

Joel would have liked to bury his face in the ground underneath him if he hadn't felt so tired. He couldn't believe the words coming out of your mouth, even though they were ringing like bells in his head and sending adrenaline rushing through his veins.

"Hell no," he said, making every effort to appear as calm and cool as possible despite the roaring storm swirling in his chest that seemed to grow the longer he breathed the same cutting air as you.

"Please. I'll be quiet afterwards. Just please help me make the ache go away," you begged, hips shifting under the fabric and once again, sinful pictures appeared in his head.

You rubbing your center against the ground in an attempt to stimulate your pulsating core and then the ground was replaced by his thigh or hand and – Fucking christ.

"I said no. Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? You're not feelin' ashamed or… or bad for asking me this? Jesus."

"It's only us here. Who cares? M'not asking you to touch me, just… need you to guide me."

Joel squeezed his eyes hoping that it might help him clear his head but the longer you talked and the longer your sweet voice filled the air the hotter his skin became and he was suddenly thankful that it was dark in the tent. The skin on his arms was prickling and he could feel a single drop of sweat running down his neck.

"There's nothing to guide. We're talkin' about fuckin' masturbating, right? There's no science behind it, just do what feels good and leave me alone, alright?"

Joel turned on his side, back facing you while letting out an annoyed sigh. And then the tent was still, the only noises drifting in from outside. The occasional chirping of various creatures, the rustling of leaves, and crickets singing for the two of you. Joel had almost prepared himself to drift to sleep (although he only now realised that his hard cock might pose a difficulty) when you spoke up once again.

"Please, Joel," you whispered quietly, as soft and slight as the wind howling through the trees outside.

"Shut up."

"Please."

"I said shut up."

It was a war of words and Joel wondered how you had the energy to keep up this stupid fight for so long instead of just stuffing your fingers inside your weeping hole if you really needed it that badly.

"I won't let you sleep," you then said.

White thick anger made his toes curl and his fingers tingle with the urge to hit something as he clenched his teeth to somehow control his emotions. Fury combined with lust was dangerous and he just couldn't lose control of himself now.

"You're an annoying little brat, you know that?" Joel grunted not moving an inch when he heard the rustling of your sleeping bag.

"Maybe."

You had moved closer to him and before your front could touch his back and perhaps increase his desire for you he moved to lay on his other side again, hand coming up to your shoulder to push you back.

"Stay the fuck away from me. N'lay on your back," he added quietly, a mischievous smile passing over your face as he seemed to finally cooperate with you. You mouthed a silent 'Okay' and then stared up to the ceiling while Joel watched your profile.

"After that you're gonna sleep. N'you'll stop complaining and annoying me, is that clear?"

You nodded, glancing at him from the corner of your eyes. "Yes, Joel."

"Move your hand between your thighs," he whispered with a low voice, the odd mixture of feeling incredibly bad and disgusting for talking to a girl almost 30 years his junior that way and being horny making his stomach painfully twist.

He forced himself to keep his eyes on the ceiling as well because otherwise he believed it would only get worse.

"Push your pants down… and underwear or whatever you're wearin'," he then mumbled, lips in a thin line while he waited for you to follow his command. As if you couldn't do this on your own.

An ugly thought formed inside of his head and he suddenly widened his eyes, nostrils flaring in disgust as he ran his eyes over your soft features.

"This ain't some fucked-up daddy issues shit, right? You searching for approval or somethin'… I don't know."

Your face twisted, nose wrinkling and pure distaste marking your face as you shook your head. "Ew. No. Fuck, Joel, I told you that I just couldn't sleep."

Instead of answering he watched you, not entirely convinced, but what else was he supposed to do, other than take your word for it? All of this was terrible but you had promised him you would leave him alone after you had come.

There was the sound of fabric brushing over your body again and then your glowy face was turned to him, your expression longing and desperate and like an open book to him which was a grave contrast to your unreadable face when he had first met you.

"Slide your finger through your folds. Slowly." He waited a few seconds although he didn't know what for and then closed his eyes as his next words formed in his head.

"Collect your wetness. And then bring it to your clit."

A questioning look lingered on your face as your pretty eyes burned holes in the side of his face, his eyes still refusing to meet your gaze.

"A li'l bundle over your hole. You're gonna find it. S'gonna make you feel very good."

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe steadily and then opened his right one when he heard you gasp quietly and cursed his body for the way his heart fluttered. He wasn't supposed to react to you this way. This was so incredibly wrong and filthy and Joel knew if all the horrible things he had done in the past weren't enough already, this would be the reason for him to be sent to hell - if something like that existed -

"Rub it. In circles. Use your wetness as lubrication," he pressed using all of his strength not to let any of his own desire show although you seemed to be very busy right now anyway.

"Oh," you moaned and Joel couldn't help himself and darted at you just for a brief moment.

Your cheeks were flushed, lips parted and eyes fixed on the ceiling of the tent while your left hand that wasn't occupied tightly grasped the sleeping bag. The imagine alone was enough to fuel his dirtiest cravings and at this point his dick was leaking with precum. His own breathing started to hitch in his throat although he hadn't even touched himself but who would have known that watching you get off was so goddamn hot. A part of him regretted to have agreed to this because now there most certainly was no turning back and he feared that he wouldn't be able to get through this.

"Joel," you moaned and he threw his head back, letting out a quiet "Fuck." Were you even aware of what you were doing to him?

"You needa stop," he hissed through gritted teeth, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the ceiling of the tent but it was so seducing to just let his eyes travel to you for a second. Just enjoy this pretty view for a moment and imagine that it wasn't your hand but his…

"Why?" you asked looking right into his eyes for the first time since you had started to pleasure yourself and Joel felt his heart pound so loud in his chest that he was sure it was the only noise in the tent apart from your panting.

"You need to… You need to stop lookin' at me like that 'n' say my name… Just fuckin' cum and then get to sleep."

His voice was quiet and muffled… and weak. Like he wasn't in control of the things he said and did and Joel had a feeling that was exactly what you wanted.

"C'mon old man," you evily sniggered, hand still snug between your legs but somehow you seemed a lot more at calm and in command of the situation.

"I know you want it too. You wanna touch me, Joel? You wanna see it yourself? How wet and warm I am… it's such a mess down there… who's gonna clean it up?"

"Shut up. M'not gonna say it again," Joel managed to breath out, body stiff and tense as he felt you move closer.

No, that was the wrong direction, Joel thought, panic painting his view white and he was quick to put an end to it by pushing you backwards by your hips. How had this slipped out of his hand? He had promised himself to keep a clear head and be the one to pull the strings but just a blink of your eyes had turned his brain into a mush. Joel felt like a horny teenager who had just seen a boob for the first time, the only difference being that neither had he touched himself nor had he seen anything of you. He was weak, uncontrolled and pathetic.

"Please Joel," you moaned, biting down on your bottom lip while you seemed to rock your pussy against your hand under the blanket.

"You like me that way? You want me to beg for it? Want me all whiny and desperate for you? 'Cause it makes you feel fucking needed?"

Joel felt sweat collect on his forehead, little shivers running down his spine every few seconds but the sensation was now overcast by this burning and throbbing heat in his stomach that made him want to shut you up so badly. How many times did he have to tell you to be silent until you would actually do it? He told you exactly that, voice sharp like a knife but you were unimpressed.

"Please Joel. I just want it to be your hand makin' me feel good. S'not a big deal, just… C'mon, it's not gonna take long. Just this once, please."

"I can't, goddamnit," he snarled, his hands clenching into fists and he used his own fingernails to create a painful sting in his palms. Anything to distract him from his dick that seemed to have a mind of his own.

"Why not? We're hurtin' anyone by doin' it?"

You came closer again and this time Joel didn't have the energy to do something about it.

"No. But… you're so young. I can't do this. S'not good. You deserve something your age."

"Oh come on!" you exclaimed, hand coming to a stop between your legs but that wasn't what distracted Joel. It was your hot breath lingering at his neck and he had to bring up all his will power to move an inch away from you, hand gripping your shoulder to get an appropriate amount of distance between the two of you.

"Don't come at me with the age thing. I'm an adult, I can decide who I wanna touch. And don't put this on me. I want it, don't come up with excuses like you wanna protect me."

Joel grinded his teeth so hard that the both of you heard it, a single muscle twitching in his cheek.

"You're too young for me," he insisted slapping your hand away that you had wanted to move to the back of his head to play with his hair. "S'not appropriate."

You rolled your eyes and propped yourself up on your elbows, forcing him to look at your face hovering right in front of him.

"Joel. This isn't about gettin' married or shit. I just need you right now."

He remained uncompromising, his eyes observing you precisely but not in the kind of way you wanted him to.

"Just finish what you have started, kiddo."

A desperate whine that once again didn't fail to make Joel's stomach clench escaped from your mouth but you didn't move an inch.

"I don't think I can come this way," you claimed and yet another wave of frustration made his body buckle.

"Jesus fucking christ," Joel spitted and ran a hand through his hair. "Stop lying and cum and if you don't, I don't care."

"But I said I would let you sleep after I came."

Joel wanted to die right here and right now. He couldn't believe he seriously had gotten himself in this situation with this stubborn little bitch who wouldn't stop annoying him. Years ago he would have believed himself to be in paradise with a pretty girl like you literally begging him to touch her in any way but not now and not with you. Not with such an innocent fragile thing like you who seriously deserved better.

He was old and marked by the years. He had done terrible things and he knew, even if it was just touching you between your legs, he somehow would… ruin you. He would destroy you and your pretty innocence.

"Just this once, Joel. I promise I'm gonna be good," you whispered close to his ear, seemingly confident that you were about to break him. If only you had been wrong.

"I'm gonna do whatever you tell me to. I just need to feel your hands, s'all. I'll be quiet and I'll listen to you. Please."

"God…," Joel exhaled rubbing over his eyes and realising now that all sleepiness had faded away.

"Please?" you added and then your eyes brightened up as he pushed your left shoulder down so you lay on your back.

Quick and rough hands shoved down the sleeping bag until only your legs were covered by it and he hissed out as he took in your tight t-shirt that couldn't hide your hard nipples and your pubic hair, covering what certainly deliciously clenched for him right now just a few inches further down.

You rocked back and forth in anticipation, your face glowing with pure joy and Joel almost felt annoyed wishing back the pouty and whimpering version of you. But he would surely get you there again.

"Open your legs," he growled not at all caring about his rude tone but you didn't mind. Your eyes were fixed on him, who completely ignored you and just started to finger you like he had a job to do.

He used the pats of two of his fingers to glide through your folds smearing your arousal that was dripping down your thighs over the whole of your pussy. His pants felt so goddamn tight around his cock at the warmth your little pussy radiated and he wished to press any of his body parts inside of you, no matter if it was his fingers, his cock or his tongue. He was so focused on his hand moving between your legs, a deep crease between his brows in concentration, that he didn't even get to enjoy all of your reactions; your little sighs and whimpers, your mouth open and your teeth nibbling at your lower lip.

Joel circled your entrance with two thick fingers and then brought them to your clit that felt swollen beneath his touch. He began rubbing it at a quick pace, his own lips unconsciously parted as well because now he was so close to you that his nose nestled against your shoulder and your scent was all it took for his head to spin.

"Joel," you moaned fully enjoying his treatment but when your hand grasped his wrist he lightly slapped it and pinned it down next to your body.

"No. You told me you'd be good. I want you to shut up and keep your hands to yourself, am I clear?"

The "yes" you whined didn't exactly fulfil the purpose because it made Joel's eyes roll back and he quietly cursed to himself. Although he felt like he had the upper hand now with you falling apart beneath his touch he wasn't quite satisfied because something about this made him feel like the longer he touched you, the more his hunger for you grew and he feared that he might do something he would regret. Apart from the fact that he was already sure he would regret what he was doing right now.

His finger became faster, his only goal being to make you finish as quickly as possible and in addition to the patterns he drew over your clit, Joel eased a single finger inside your quivering hole. You were drenched and therefore your pussy welcomed him kindly but he also hadn't forgotten the fact that you were a virgin so he believed that one finger would be enough for the time being and feeling your center tighten, there was immediate evidence to support his thesis.

He slowly thrusted his finger in you without stopping flicking your clit with his thumb. The intoxicating combination made you cry out, your body so incredibly responsive to him that Joel couldn't hold back pressing a kiss on your shoulderblade.

"There you go…," he hummed. He wanted to rock his aching dick against your thigh so badly, get some stimulation and make you feel the size of him, but he couldn't. He couldn't let go now, not after having betrayed his morales so many times already.

"Fuck," you cursed, hips buckling to meet the movement of his hand and this time Joel allowed it, wanting nothing more than for you to come as soon as possible.

Therefore he added a second finger and although your eyes squeezed, little droplets of sweat pooling on your temple at the stretch, he could see your pupils dilating, more pleasure being added to what already felt like a huge wave of warm, sticky, honey embracing you. Joel touched you right where it was itching and you were at a point where you didn't care about anything but his touch. His thumb sloppily pressed into your clit, his own movement restricted from the pleasure he experienced but when he felt your hand wrapping around his wrist, he frowned, lifting his head to look at you.

"Joel," you exhaled close to him, your hot breath prickling on his skin.

"Come, sweetheart. Let go, alright? You can do it."

But you defiantly shook your head, lips pressed together and face drawn almost as if you were in pain.

"Need more, please," you whined and brought a hand to his shirt to grip the fabric tightly in your small fists.

"What are you talkin' about, c'mon. I'm gonna make you cum on my fingers."

But just like the hand on his shirt, your hand around his wrist squeezed him, pushing it away from your core.

"Can I touch it, Joel?" you asked eyes round as coins as you submissively looked up to him underneath your lashes.

Fuck. Although he would never admit it, he knew that you were smart. And you had him figured out, read him like a fucking book and knew just what buttons to push to make him bend to your will. Joel couldn't exactly describe what it was and had never bothered to label it, but he had a thing for this submissive bullshit and when you gave him your pretty doll eyes his stomach clenched and his dick swoll to unnatural dimensions.

"No," he barked nevertheless, removing your hand from his shirt and pressing against your fist that prevented him from continuing to rub your pussy.

"You wanna fuckin' come or not?" he said against your temple, finding satisfaction in the way your lashes twitched.

"Yes. But please. Just wanna see your dick. Give me the tip at least. Then you're gonna feel good as well."

Joel twisted his eyes, teeth grinding as he let out an animalistic growl.

"You're fuckin' kiddin' me, aren't you? First you convinced me to guide you, then that wasn't enough for you and you convinced me to rub your l'il clit and now you want more again?"

"Just the tip, Joel. I don't want you to fuck me, just wanna feel you for a moment," you mumbled, fingers lazily picking at the sleeves of his shirt.

"I said no. An' you're gonna learn to take no for an answer," Joel said under his hitched breath, teeth threateningly blaring as you trailed a finger down his chest.

"I bet you wouldn't be able to make me come," you whispered, your hot breath brushing over his chin. "Maybe that's what you're so afraid of, old man. You think you won't satisfy me 'n' you don't want your ego to get hurt. You're scared of this pussy."

"Shut up," Joel pressed, face unreadable, but a crooked smile appeared on your face, your confidence not fading at his harsh tone.

"You think you're dick is too small? Mhm? Or what is it? You think you can't keep up 'cause you're too fuckin' old?"

His nostrils fluttered as he clearly tried to control his heavy breathing, chest and shoulders trembling under accumulated anger.

"I said. Shut up. Or I'll have to make you," he said a lot calmer than he actually was, voice thick with rage.

"Make me then. That's what I have wanted from the start. C'mon, Joel Miller. Gimme something that's gonna shut me up."

You curled your lips into a triumphant smile, an assertiveness glowing in your eyes that drove him insane.

"You're such a greedy little thing, aren't you? Just can't get enough."

With an abrupt movement of his hand he had pinned down both your wrists right next to your head while simultaneously crawling to lay on top of you with one knee between your legs. Your eyes became round, lips curling into a surprised pout but it moved nothing in Joel. His hand clapsed around your chin forcing you to look at him and a satisfied growl left his mouth at the sight of your intimidated face.

"That what you want, mhm?"

"Yes," you breathed, although you looked much less sure of yourself than you had a few of seconds ago.

"You said you want somethin' that's gonna shut you up, mhm… I think m'gonna give you somethin' that's gonna make you scream. Somethin' to cry about."

His face twisted unnaturally, eyes filled with so much rage that his surroundings looked a little blurry for a moment. Joel was driven by an animalistic urge to finally sweep this irritating stupid look off your face and replace it with your pretty little doe eyes that he knew you were able to give him. And first and foremost, he wanted to punish the shit out of you.

Every single minute of this night had cut deeper into the rope keeping him together and now it had snapped and you would pay for it. He would make you pay for each of your little whines and pleas, for your pouts and complaints and your demanding voice keeping him awake. He had done everything, giving you more than you deserved and now it was his turn to take from you whatever he wanted. He wanted to see you break and tremble, beg him but not in the way you had a couple of minutes ago. He wanted to see you beg him to stop and apologise for being so goddamn needy.

A first frightened flickering appeared in your eyes when Joel brought a hand to your breasts, kneading the flesh through your shirt, perhaps because this was more than what you had asked for. Oh and he would give you a lot more than what you had asked for.

"You're so goddamn ungrateful. Such a greedy l'il whore that's always askin' and takin' and wantin' more. An' now m'gonna give you more 'n you're gonna take it. I know you're not a good fuckin' girl but m'gonna turn you into one, don't worry. Now you're gonna lay still and let daddy feast from you."

"Joel," you whispered, helpless eyes glancing up to him and in response he slapped your cheek, not as hard as he would have wanted to but enough to make you tear up.

"Fuck!" you exclaimed, pushing hard against his chest but he took hold of your wrists once more, pressing them down over your head and this time he left them trapped there underneath his large hand.

"Now you can scream as loud as you want to," Joel whispered, evily smirking at the way you writhed under his body that caged you so wonderfully. Things weren't going the way you wanted them to and so you naturally began to panic.

"Joel. You're hurtin' me," you complained and tried to move your hands. When you realised that you weren't able to, fear spread through your body, making the blood in your veins freeze and your heart pound.

"Joel?"

"No, babygirl. It's a little bit too late now to get all scared and frightened. It was you who begged me to do this, remember?"

He chuckled darkly and then fiddled with the waistband of his sleeping pants, your eyes darting down at once as if you could keep a grip on the situation like this. Joel pulled his pants down revealing his hard dick that was swollen and wet with precum, the angry red tip practically begging to finally get some relief. You tried to close your legs around him, jolting backwards as a big hand squeezed your hip and then worked you open.

"Ugh uh. You're gonna take it all. You're gonna take it all in your tight little pussy because daddy deserves it. Daddy deserves to fuck this hole after havin' to bear with you all fuckin' day an' night and listening to your dumb questions, and now this? I think you need a l'il lesson in how to behave yourself and that your actions have fuckin' consequences."

Joel growled as he forced you to spread your legs even wider, settling between them and pumping his leaking dick a few times.

"P-Please Joel," your terrified quiet voice stuttered, your eyes relentlessly producing new tears although you hadn't began to cry just yet.

"Please don't. I'm sorry, please. Please don't do it."

"Oh babygirl," he purred, a hand caressing your cheek way too softly for the harshness of his words, but you couldn't focus on it anyway because his tip was touching your entrance now and one thing you knew for sure. He was way too big.

"Joel, please. No, no, no. You can't do it, lemme suck you off or… or I don't know, just please don't fuck me," you stumbled over your own words and if you had hoped to evoke something in Joel, you had been wrong.

It was the opposite; goosebumps rose on his arms at your weak voice and the need to hurt and mark you gripped his heart. He panted heavily while resting his tip against your entrance, completely ignoring the way your body tensed and shivered and started to work his dick inside your clenched virgin hole.

He knew that the pain must be excruciating, especially in view of the fact that your body refused to let him in, and he wasn't going particularly slow, but god, this was what he wanted and perhaps this made him fucked up but he needed it.

He needed to taste and smell the fear off you and hear your quiet cries while taking you. Tears spilled from your eyes, your whole body trembling and jerking as he went deeper, your pussy feeling so incredibly tight around him, he thought his dick was about to be ripped off. He might have helped you by telling you to try to relax and loosen up around him but you had missed your chance when you had behaved like a fucking bitch the whole night. You would have to go through it now.

"You stupid, stupid girl," Joel whispered in your ear, eyes rolling back at your glistening tears along with your impossibly clenched walls.

"You gotten yourself into this position on your own. With your draining, horrible attitude. You thought it's cute? You think it's cute now?"

You looked down, eyes threatening to close as the pain took on new dimensions, Joel now halfway in your cunt.

"Yeah that's right…," he growled with his husky voice and released your hands to rub over your face instead, smearing your tears all over your face.

"Hurts, doesn't it? Hurts so badly and you want me to stop so badly… But I won't. M'gonna continue as long as I want to and you're gonna take it. You might not take it very well... but it's enough for me."

You hiccuped, face tilted to the side as you grinded your teeth, a long heartbreaking sob leaving your mouth.

"S-Stop, p-please… Please. J-Joel…"

Your hips bent as if you were trying to evade his length but Joel had you pinned down beneath him and you didn't stand a chance. A warmth leaked from his heart flooting his body with an animalistic satisfaction. Now you were his, now he had claimed and marked you and you would surely feel him for days.

He would be lying if he said that he didn't get off on this. Your body that looked so helpless beneath his broad shoulders, your hands resting on your face and on top of your chest in turns as if to hide from him and of course your pleas that wouldn't change anything in him but were nice to listen to. Joel got off on your weakness. On your pain and on your demands to make him stop. Because he was stronger and he wouldn't stop. He had full power over you and everything that was happening to you from now on was under his watch.

You were a sobbing mess, hands protecting your face from his thumb that wiped away some of your tears but soon Joel set an end to that as well, not only wanting to have complete control but also humiliate you in every possible way.

"You haven't quite gotten it yet, mhm?" he growled peeling your hands off your face. "You're gonna fuckin' look at me. All you are is a goddamn toy f'me. A stupid l'il hole to make me feel good and I don't fuckin' care about you or what feels good. You understand me? I wanna see you cry, l'il one. I wanna see you fuckin' break for me. Wanna squeeze each of these little cries outta you until you're nothing but a brainless mess. Attagirl…"

He was completely inside of you now feeling your walls thob around him. He could only imagine the amount of pain you were feeling right now and your reactions, your twitching face as well as your bottom lip that you had bitten bloody could only hint at just how bad it was.

Joel waited a couple of seconds before suddenly bottoming out with his entire length and then slamming himself back inside because this time he didn't have to work you open before fitting inside but could just use you for his pleasure.

Your eyes once again opened wide, almost watching him in disbelief of what he was making you feel before new tears leaked out, cheeks and forehead covered with a burning heat as well as a thin layer of sweat.

"N-No…," you mumbled, your hands coming up to push against his stomach as a last desperate attempt to make him stop but Joel was too far gone now anyway. Even if he had wanted to stop he couldn't. Not after having been consumed by your perfect pussy and the way you sucked him in so firmly.

"Mhmm that's some pretty tears right there… C'mon lemme see them."

Joel grabbed your chin adjusting your head to his liking and then brushed with his thumb over your temple, watching the drops of tears fall upon your cheeks in awe.

"Aren't you such a pathetic little slut? Bawling your eyes out over my dick after asking me to stick it inside you a hundred times? Ungrateful bitch. Just look at these little tears. Look at the mess you're makin'… and once again daddy has to clean up everythin' just like you always rely on daddy…"

He fucked you at a steady pace now, paying no attention at all to the way your body rejected him and how your pussy clenched and cramped every time he pulled out but just went on like he was trying to tear every last layer of resistance down. You jolted away from him almost as if your body had a mind on its own but Joel made sure to drag you back every time, his grip on your hip like iron while his other hand now wrapped around your throat.

"That's it…," he drowned your whimpers, pressing you into the hard ground and now setting an even more brutal pace. The sound of flesh hitting flesh filled the tent, along with the sound of your muffled screams, but there wasn't anyone out here anyway so it was clear that Joel only choked you for his own amusement.

"Good fuckin' girl," he cursed, his teeth sinking down on his bottom lip and his eyes never leaving your face.

"Ugh uh, eyes on me."

You had wanted to escape his piercing gaze but Joel would have none of that, delivering a soft slap to your cheek before his hand came back to use your neck as leverage to fuck into you deeper.

"You're not gonna escape me, babygirl. You're daddy's now. I'm the first to fuck this little pussy and don't worry, she's gonna get used to it. She's gonna get used to likin' it. Next time it's not gonna be you that weeps for me but your pretty cunt. Unless you don't play by my rules of course."

Joel's mouth came down to press a possessive kiss on your brow while his hand cradled your face almost in a protective manner. Then his hand on your hips traveled to your belly and he applied a little bit of pressure that made your red-rimmed eyes anxiously glance at him. Joel soothingly rubbed your skin pressing down harder at the same time as he thrusted deep inside of you, his tip kissing your cervix in a way that made you painfully tense your muscles.

"There she is… Want you to remember that feelin' in every fuckin' moment from now on. 'Cause it's supposed to remind you of what happens to you when you're disrespectful and can't hold that little tongue of yours. Maybe m'gonna punish your mouth the next time you disbehave like this... So that you can't speak for days and I don't have to listen to your goddamn voice every mornin' and night."

Your round eyes were glued to his face and Joel believed that you were at a point where you were incapable of having a straight thought, let alone speak up.

There was silence for the next few minutes and Joel could almost see you trying to adjust to his size, your mouth swallowing desperate gasps but it was still too much for you. He simply demanded too much, giving you no time to relax your cunt as he took and took like you were nothing but a set of holes to get him off. The next time Joel spoke up was when he felt his orgasm approaching and obviously he had to make sure you knew what he was about to do to your poor pussy.

"Gonna cum right into this pretty hole o'yours. Gonna paint your walls with my cum until you've understood that I fuckin' own you."

You seemed to need a few seconds to understand the dimensions of his words, head suddenly turning to him to stare right into his eyes. Jolting to the side your hands buried in his arms while mindless stuttering left your parted lips. As a precaution Joel pressed a finger on your lips shushing you before your doubts could even be expressed.

"Ah ah. Don't fight it, babygirl. There's nothing you can do about it so you better take it unless you want this to be painful. And I think you've had enough pain for tonight, hm?"

You broke down on the spot, a wave of tears crashing upon you at the reminder and this time Joel held you through it. Perhaps it was seeing you all fucked out and helpless that made him soften or it was the fact that he was all satisfied with the world right now but either way, he allowed you to snuggle against his arm and soak his shirt with your tears, all while still pounding your pussy in order to reach his high.

"Jesus fucking christ…," he moaned, adrenaline shooting through his veins and the pleasure blinding him. And then he came with a loud groan, his left hand groping your breasts while his right yanked your head back by your hair to cover your neck with kisses.

"That's right… Take it all like the little slut you are… Goddamnit, babygirl…"

He pushed into you a few more times to be certain that his cum was deep inside your pussy, each thrust evoking a gasp from you, your nails scratching his muscular arms and then moved your sweaty hair back, making you face him once again.

"Look at that… All stuffed with my cum. So fuckin' full of me."

Your face was an absolute mess, your eyes and nose red and swollen while traces of tears made your cheeks look pale and washed-out. Your lip was bloody and tattered from the way you had chewed on it and your brow radiated a burning heat. You wanted to avert his gaze and rather melt with the floor head first but Joel forced you to keep your glossy eyes on him, the heavy weight of his body leaving you no choice but to listen to the breath that was his voice, lingering at your ear.

"You didn't like that, did you?"

You pressed your eyes and lips together but managed to answer him by shaking your head.

"I thought so… An' you definitely don't want this to happen again, do ya?" Another shake of your head and this time you opened your right eye, anxiously winding under his body.

"So you're gonna behave from now on. I could make this very uncomfortable for you, babygirl. I could make you swallow my dick an' make you choke on it. Or I could fuck your tight ass. I'm sure I could come up with a lot of fun stuff that's all gonna be very unpleasant for you. But you could also be a good fuckin' girl f'me, listen to me, do as I say and stop bein' such an ungrateful whore and then I might let your pussy recover for the next few days an' we're all gonna be very happy."

The muscles in your chin twisted, new tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks but nevertheless, you nodded and Joel loosened the grip on your hair.

"I wanna hear your voice."

"Y-Yes. I'll b-be g-good," you stuttered, voice croaked and thin but it was enough for him because he suddenly dropped you like you were a hot potato and pulled his flaccid dick out of you to crawl to his side of the tent.

You immediately collapsed again, rolling onto your side to face the wall of the tent, covering your battered body with the sleeping back and putting as much distance as possible between Joel and you. A cold shiver ran through your numb body. You pussy uncomfortably pulsated with a stinging pain that you had never experienced before tonight and yet was already so familiar to you. You were freezing but at the same time craved a cold shower, but perhaps this need was caused by the urge to clean yourself to wash his cum and sweat off your body and scrub every inch he had touched.

You sniffed a couple of times holding on to the sleeping bag as if it was your shield against Joel and forced yourself not to think about what had just happened. On one hand it was incredibly easy because everything about it was still so surreal and strange but at the same time every time you closed your eyes picture appeared before your eyes. The lust in his eyes. His hand coming down to caress your cheek.

A shockwave went through your body and you would have started crying again had not your exhausted and traumatised mind drifted off to sleep first.

943 notes · View notes

wispitty · 2 months ago

Text

(short reacts) | "he overhears you talking about him" + one piece men

summary: you’re in another room, talking to someone else. you don’t know they’re around the corner. you say something honest. soft.

characters: crocodile, mihawk, marco, ace, shanks, law, corazon

CROCODILE

You’re sitting in the lounge with Alvida.

Voice low.

You don’t know he’s nearby—just down the hallway, behind the corner.

“I know it’s stupid,” you murmur, laughing softly. “But… I love him. I love him so much.”

Pause.

“He deserves better. Someone… elegant. Powerful. Not some brat with big feelings.”

You sigh as your eyes reach the floor. Whisper, softly:

“...I just want to make him proud.”

You don’t see the shadow pass the door.

You don’t feel the way his chest stutters for the first time in years.

But you will feel it later when he finds you alone, tilts your chin up and murmurs,

“If I wanted someone different, I’d have left you behind a long time ago.”

Then he kisses you. Hard. Deep. Like a man making sure you never doubt it again.

That all he's ever wanted is you.

MIHAWK

You’re cleaning up tea with Perona when you speak.

“I love him,” you whisper. “I know I shouldn’t. He’s too far above me. He could never… really see me that way.”

Your voice is soft. Defeated, agonized.

“But I can’t stop.”

You don’t know he’s behind the door.

That he’s frozen, hand on the frame.

His grip tightens—but he doesn’t enter.

Not yet.

When he does find you later, alone in the courtyard, he sits beside you in silence.

Until, quietly:

“I see you.”

You blink.

“What?”

“Every day. Every night. In every dream. Don’t you dare ever say I couldn’t.”

And when you look at him—

He kisses you. Like he’s already been yours forever.

MARCO

You’re helping bandage Thatch up in the medbay. He’s just outside, door half-cracked.

You chuckle, warm and soft.

“I love him, Thatch. Like, actually love him.”

Your smile fades just a little.

“But Marco’s so golden. So good. I don’t think I’m enough.”

Marco leans his head against the wall.

Eyes wide. Heart racing.

He lets the moment pass.

Later that night, when you return to your room, there’s a soft knock.

You open the door.

He’s there. Frowning.

“Don’t ever say that again.”

You blink.

“Say what?”

“That you’re not enough.”

He steps forward.

“You’re everything to me. You always have been.”

He kisses you before you can argue. Soft. Slow. Sure.

ACE

You’re half-laughing with Izo in the galley when you say it.

“I love him. Ace, I mean.”

He’s in the doorway.

Frozen.

Your voice drops.

“He’d never believe me, though. I think he thinks I just see him as… fun. Not someone I want to build something with.”

You laugh again. A little strained.

“But I do. I really, really do.”

He backs out.

Later that night, you’re walking back to your room.

You turn a corner—and he’s there. Unusually serious.

“...You meant it?”

You jump.

“A-Ace?!”

“Earlier. What you said to Izo.”

“You heard that?”

“...Yeah. Every word.”

He steps closer. Looks nervous. Then sure.

“If you meant it—kiss me. Right now.”

You hesitate at first, but you do.

He groans softly into it, hands trembling as they wrap around you, deepening the feel of your lips on his.

And afterward?

“Let's build it.”

He mumbles into your shoulder.

“The brightest future in the sea. You and me.”

SHANKS

You’re chatting with Yasopp. Lighthearted.

He’s behind a post, hidden, drink forgotten in his hand.

“Yeah, I do. I love him. I can't even deny it anymore.”

You laugh. Soft. Fond.

“But c’mon. He’s Shanks. I’m just… me.”

Your voice drops.

“He’s so bright. I’d get burned.”

He steps out of the shadows.

“Should’ve said something.”

You jolt, flush.

“S-Shanks! You heard that—?!”

He shoots Yasopp a single look which has him scatter.

Then he walks up, gaze serious.

“Sweetheart, let's get something straight here.”

An ache of fear runs through you as you avert your eyes and brace yourself. Only for a finger to lift your chin up to face him.

“You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to burn for.”

And then he kisses you.

Messy. Smiling. Starstruck.

LAW

You’re in the library. Quiet. Calm.

Bepo asks you something.

You answer without thinking.

“I love him. Trafalgar.”

Law’s nearby, out of sight.

You don’t see how his hand tightens around the book he’s holding.

“But it’s complicated. I’d give him everything, but I don’t think he’s ready for that.”

Later, you find a note on your door.

Just two words.

“I am.”

You turn to go find him—he’s already behind you.

Eyes soft. Vulnerable.

You don’t speak. Neither does he.

But he kisses you.

Gentle. Then desperate.

Like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“Don’t hide from me,” he whispers. “Not ever again.”

CORAZON

You’re sitting by the fireplace with one of the kids in town, voice low.

He’s outside the window.

Listening.

“I love him, you know? Rosi. But he’s too kind. Too good. I’m not supposed to touch something that soft.”

Your voice wavers.

“I-I’d ruin it.”

Later, when you're leaving, he grabs your arm from around the corner.

You jump.

“Rosi—?!”

He grabs your face in both hands and kisses you.

It’s messy. Tear-stained. Breathless.

When he pulls back, he presses a messy note into your palm.

“You could never ruin me.”

“I’ve only ever felt whole with you.”

And you’re already crying when he pulls you back into his arms.

#one piece reacts #sir crocodile #crocodile x reader #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #shanks x reader #shanks #marco the phoenix #marco x reader #trafalgar law #law x reader #corazon x reader #corazon #ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #donquixote rosinante #rosinante x reader

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merrinla · 5 months ago

Text

Cut lines from Solas and Rook after Weisshaupt. None of these are voiced, so only text. Some are rewritten in the game.

Solas: You once told me that you would stop the gods without getting "thousands of innocent people killed."

Solas: You once told me that you would accept whatever consequences came from your battle.

Solas: You once told me that the consequences of your battle would be a problem for "Future Rook."

Rook: Yeah.

option: Don't mock me, okay? Rook: Whatever your big trickster-god lesson is, could we just... not? Solas: Why not? What makes this time different? Rook: Weisshaupt? Solas: You have seen death before.

option: I let the team down. Rook: I went to Weisshaupt to stop the gods... with a team of people I'd recruited.

Rook: Davrin, Lucanis, all of them... I convinced them to join. I told them we could win. Rook: And right now, it feels like I lied to them.

option: I was in command. Rook: But I've never been in charge. And this time...

Rook: I punched the First Warden in the face and made everybody listen to me.

Rook: I got the First Warden to listen. I got him to believe in me.

Rook: And then I... I couldn't get it done. I failed. And Weisshaupt fell.

option: This time broke me. Rook: This time, I feel... nothing. Solas: And still you hide your feelings.

Rook: No, I mean... I try to think about what I'm feeling, and I just... there's nothing there. Rook: If I think about what happened at Weisshaupt, I just... stop. Like I could go to sleep and never wake up. Rook: And I can't afford to do that. Solas: Why not? Rook: Because I let everyone down once already. I can't do it again.

Solas: There it is. The grief of having not lived up to the trust that others placed in you. Solas: It is a pain worse than any Elgar'nan or Ghilan'nain could inflict, and if you let it, it can help you. Rook: How?

Solas: There are those who hold their emotions at a distance to avoid the sting of failure. Solas: To defeat Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain, there can be no distance. You must be committed. Rook: What, you think we failed because I didn't want it enough? Solas: I cannot say. But you chose this battle, and in so doing, you chose these consequences. Solas: Regret is the price we pay for acting when no one else will. Solas: Without regret, we would not be driven to correct our mistakes, to improve. To get it right.

option: I'll get it right. Rook: Next time, we won't miss. Solas: I believe you. Solas: And I believe that if you listen to me, then Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain will fall.

option: I don't want to feel this. Rook: It still hurts. Solas: I have lived thousands of years and made countless mistakes. It always hurts. Solas: If you listen to that feeling, perhaps you may never need to feel it again so keenly.

option: I'm not here for this shit. Rook: I didn't come here for your philosophical bullshit. I came for help! Solas: What did you think my help would look like? Solas: I cannot promise that our talks will be easy. All I can promise is that if you listen to me, Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain will fall.

option: I need some support. Rook: Could you be hopeful Solas instead of smug Solas right now. Rook: I don't need you to convince me how bad things are, okay? I get it. I really, really get it. Solas: You have finally met the Evanuris in battle.

option: I have to act confident. Rook: Yeah, we met the gods, and now I have to act like we're not completely screwed and this was a good step forward. Solas: Why? Rook: We lost a lot of Grey Wardens. We lost Weisshaupt. If we lost all of that, and I didn't accomplish anything? Solas: Then what? Rook: Then there's no way I can win. I should just start running now. Rook: But I can't. I have to keep acting like there's some way to win. And that's... terrifying.

Solas: Good. There it is. The fear. Solas: You finally see the consequences. You know the stakes. That fear, the terror of what you face now, can help you, if you let it. Rook: How does admitting I'm terrified help?

option: And I'm in charge. Rook: And somehow, I'm supposed to go up against them again, and everyone is looking to me for a plan. Solas: The plan will come. Once you have marshaled your forces...

Rook: I had a legendary assassin, a dragon hunter, and an army of Grey Wardens, and we still failed! I still failed. Rook: People keep asking me what we do now, and I have no idea. And that is... terrifying.

option: They're too powerfull. Rook: Yeah, and it turns out that when you're fighting a god, terror is a perfectly rational feeling!

Rook: And don't give me that "Evanuris" crap. You can turn people to stone with your eyes! Solas: Yes, and yet I wield far less power than Ghilan'nain or Elgar'nan. Rook: The world is going to end up a blighted wasteland unless I stop them, and... I don't think I can.

option: This is your fault! Rook: No. You don't get to come in here all superior. A whole lot of people just died, and that's on you! Solas: I have made many mistakes, but I did not free Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain. Rook: Fine. Whatever. Solas: No. This is important, Rook. Solas: Your fury is real, but you can only defeat it if you identify its source. Who are you truly angry at?

option: Everyone! Rook: I'm trying to save the world, and everybody's kicking me in the shins while I'm doing it!

Rook: Tevinter and the Antaam would rather fight each other!

Rook: The Grey Wardens wouldn't listen until I punched their leader in the face and took over!

Rook: The First Warden wouldn't listen until the enemy was stomping all over his courtyard!

Rook: I can't do this alone! I need people to shut up and do what I tell them for once, or I'm going to fail again!

option: Ugh. Myself! Rook: I know who I'm angry at. It doesn't matter. Solas: Of course it matters. You must learn who you are.

Rook: The whole world is gonna know who I am! They're gonna make statues of me!

Rook: "In honor of Rook: He/She/They almost saved Weisshaupt!"

option: Bad luck? Rook: I don't know! Fate, luck, something! This whole mission has been one disaster after another. Solas: And how would luck help you? What is it that you need?

Rook: I need a break! I need one damn thing to go right for once! Solas: Because you deserve it? Rook: Because I can't do this! Rook: But if I don't, nobody will. So I've gotta keep banging my head against this wall like an idiot hoping for a miracle!

Solas: There it is. The anger. The frustration at having failed. Solas: Properly channeled, that rage can flare hot enough to burn away any impurities. Rook: Fine! I'm angry! How does that help?

option: We made progress. Rook: I'd hoped we'd take down Ghilan'nain, but we did kill her Archdemon. That's a good start.

Solas: "A good start." I wonder if your fellow Wardens would agree.

Solas: "A good start." I wonder if the Grey Wardens would agree.

Solas: Does this truly feel like even a partial victory, or does something uncomfortable lurk behind that easy smile?

option: No. But being sad won't help. Rook: No, of course it doesn't feel like victory. But that's what leadership is. Rook: It's putting your own feelings aside so the team doesn't collapse. Solas: And what is so dangerous that the mere sight of it would destroy your team? Rook: That I was wrong.

option: I'm tryung to believe. Rook: It has to feel like a partial victory. If it doesn't...

option: I need to seem confident. Rook: How do you think I feel? But the team needs me to look like I know what I'm doing. Solas: And what do you need?

option: Thanks, Past Rook. Rook: Sounds like something Past Rook would say. He's/She's/They're kind of an asshole.

Solas: (Chuckles)

Solas: You use humor a great deal.

Solas: "The elven god of sarcasm."

Solas: "This is the reason nobody likes you."

Solas: "Killing an Archdemon is the easy part."

Solas: Is all of this really so amusing, or is that wit the blade with which you keep less comfortable feelings at bay?

option: It's that or cry. Rook: I'm doing the best I can to hold it together. Sometimes that means stupid jokes. Solas: And when those fail? Rook: Then I probably start ugly-sobbing. Snotty nose, blotchy face, the whole deal. Solas: Why? You are no stranger to death. You have seen warriors fall in battle before.

option: It's that or panic. Rook: Well, I don't think uncontrollable screaming is gonna help anything, and that's the only other option. Solas: Uncontrollable screaming at what?

option: It's that or rage. Rook: Yeah, there's a pretty good chance the jokes are how I cope. Solas: And beneath those jokes? Rook: Why does that matter? Would me yelling right now help anything? Solas: It might help you know who you are.

option: It's a lot to accept. Rook: I was thinking I'd be accepting hurt feelings, not a whole fortress falling to darkspawn. Solas: Sometimes the hurt feelings are worse.

option: I guess? Rook: Weisshaupt could've fallen without us killing Ghilan'nain's Archdemon. That would technically be worse. Solas: Technically.

option: That's still true. Rook: And I stand by that. Solas: Truly? You watched a fortress fall and Wardens die, and it touches nothing within you?

Solas: I expect that you call it professionalism.

Solas: No hesitation. "We stopped you. We'll stop them."

Solas: No concern. Just targets. "Any other surprises we should know about?"

Solas: What are you so desperate to avoid feeling?

option: Numb. Rook: Nothing. Solas: So no fear, no anger, lurks beneath the surface?

option: Terror. Rook: Ghilan'nain was so much worse than anything I expected. She's a god.

option: Fucking furious. Rook: I am so fucking tired of being the one who has to do this while the rest of the world ignores the problem!

Solas: And while your grief is valid, the situation is not as dire as it seems.

Solas: And while your fear is valid, the situation is not as dire as it seems.

Solas: And while your frustration is valid, the situation is not as dire as it seems.

Solas: You have slain an Archdemon, a feat only a few have accomplished over the centuries. Solas: Ghilan'nain is now mortal. If you can find her and catch her unprepared, you can kill her. Rook: So how do I find her? Solas: Your team has ties to organizations with connections you lack. The Shadow Dragons in Minrathous, the Veil Jumpers in Arlathan, and so on. Solas: Strengthening your team will strengthen those groups. Prove your value as an ally, and they will give you the openings you seek. Rook: Okay, I'll see what I can do. Solas: Good. And Rook... I am sorry for the necessity of this lesson.

option: No, I appreciate it. Rook: You don't have to apologize. I know you're trying to help, so... thanks. Solas: Don't. Don't thank me. Solas: Our talk today will lead to Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain falling, but it is not a kindness. Solas: Good luck.

option: It's not wholly unexpected. Rook: You talk with the Dread Wolf, you gotta be prepared to bleed a little. Solas: A painful assessment, but more than fair, especially today. Solas: If I knew some other way to prepare you for what lies ahead, I would do so.

option: Whatever. Goodbye. Rook: We're done here. I'll talk to you when I know something. Solas: Of course. Then I will simply wish you good luck.

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #dav #da datamine #solas #rook

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romanofftherealest · 2 months ago

Text

Bearer Of The Seed

Summary: Natasha Romanoff was a complex and dangerous woman, unpredictable, impulsive and arrogant—those are the only things you know about her. So the thought of being connected to her through a child was unsettling, to say the least. Yet you knew, as soon as the words of the scripted vows you loathed to say forcefully fell from your lips, there was no turning back.

Pairings: Targaryen Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Word count: 5.1k

Tags | Warnings: +18 HOUSE OF THE DRAGON AU, AMAB!Natasha, Targayen!Natasha, top!Natasha, bottom!r, smut, angst, forced marriage, Natasha plots to make r pregnant while r plots to deceive Natasha, lots of chasing, dubcon, breeding kink, rough sex, bleeding, creampie, fingering, overstimulation & squirting (r receiving)

Author's Note: Scheduled repost

⧗

"Father, smith, warrior. Mother, maiden, crone, stranger…"

The words felt like acid on your tongue. Each one stinging you as they leave your lips. You loathed having to say them. You loathed having to agree. This wasn't some love match. It was the voice of a prisoner accepting their fate.

You force yourself to keep your eyes on Natasha, refusing to blink despite the tears forming. You will not cry. Not in her presence. You will not give her that satisfaction. So you try your best to stand tall, to be defiant. Though it's hard when you feel so completely defeated as you said the final words that will seal you both forever.

"I am yours...and you are mine. From this day...until the end of my days."

The last word was hardly out of your mouth when Natasha took a step forward and captured your lips with hers. Natasha's grip on your hips tightens as she pulls you firmly against her. Her lips are rough and insistent as they move against yours. You can feel the tension and desire coursing through her as she claims your mouth in a possessive, greedy kiss.

With what seems like great effort, Natasha breaks the kiss. She takes a step back and you notice a sly smirk slowly appear on his face as she watches you try to catch your breath and you so badly wanted to wipe that on her face. Clearly, she was enjoying the effect she had on you, but you will not make this easy for her.

You will make sure to play this game on your hands, not hers.

⧗

"Heirs…"

Hearing your now family bring up the subject of heirs, made you feel a lump form in your throat. It was something you'd tried to avoid thinking about, but you knew it was a reality you would have to face.

Natasha didn't even flinch. She seems confident and unbothered, like she has no concerns in that regard. She responds without missing a beat.

"Oh, we'll have heirs. Plenty of them, in fact."

Natasha's grip on your hands tightens slightly, you force a tight-lipped smile on your face as you struggle to appear calm.

"I will make sure that our marriage bed will not lack heat. We'll have as many children as the Gods see fit to bless us with." She added with such confidence.

You knew that the celebration was coming to an end and you were starting to feel overwhelmed by the noise and the crowd—by her. The air felt hot and stifling. Without saying a word, you excused yourself but as you stood Natasha didn't let go of your hand. So you eyed her intently—authoritatively and she immediately released your hand, you didn't miss the flicker of hesitation and fear in her eyes. Her usual confident and authoritative demeanor seemed to be gone for a moment, revealing just the slightest crack in her armor.

As you walked, a small smirk tugged your lips, it gave you a sense of satisfaction, knowing that you had the power to affect her in that way. For a brief moment, you felt like you were in control, that you had some bargaining power in this situation.

Of course you do, you will play this game right on your palm, right?

You stepped into the cool night air of the corridors outside, you tried not to let your emotions get the best of you as you thought about the fact that your family had been saved, you realized just how high the cost was. Natasha had saved you from ruin, but the price was steep. You were now the payment, a pawn in a larger game of power and politics. Knowing that you were traded like a piece of livestock in exchange for your family's safety, it was a bitter pill to swallow.

One of the foremost was the fact that you will need to carry the child of someone you didn't really know. Natasha Romanoff was a complex and dangerous woman, unpredictable, impulsive and arrogant—those are the only things you know about her. So the thought of being connected to her through a child was unsettling, to say the least. Yet you knew, as soon as the words of the scripted vows you loathed to say forcefully fell from your lips, there was no turning back.

It is inevitable or perhaps it can be avoided?

You were lost in your own thoughts, worrying about your future, when the maid servant's voice broke your train of thought.

"The celebration is over, your Grace. The King will be expecting you in her chambers."

Her words and the instructions were simple, but they sent a shiver of unease through you. But you wanted to test the waters, you wanted to test who among you holds such power to the both of you.

"Let her know that I am denying her request," you replied coldly as the night breeze.

"But your Gra—"

"Tell her that," you cut her off with a finality, "I'll be at my chambers, I'll retire early for tonight." You added, hinting that if she wished to prove the power she has on you, she will come and show you.

The night slipped away and you opted for the secret chambers that only and your maester, Wanda knew. Inside, you hoped to find solitude and respite from the pressures and chaos of the day. You stayed in the dimly lit room, the only light provided by a few flickering candles, as the night went on. You didn't know whether or not Natasha had come to your original chambers, expecting to find you there.

But you will make sure not surrender yourself, not without a fight.

⧗

Natasha was growing increasingly frustrated as she recounted different excuses from the maid servants every time she inquired about you. She hadn't seen you since the night of your wedding, and the more time passed the more suspicious she became.

Another maid servant entered her headquarters and she is for sure to deliver another excuse from you.

"The Queen is not feeling well, your Grace." The maid servant stood before the King, her hands clasped in front of her nervously as she delivered her message.

"What happened? What does the maester say the issue is?" The suspicion that she had in mind is now gone and is replaced by a deep concern for you.

"Well, you Gr—"

"I will go and check on my wife."

"I fear the Queen doesn't want anyone in her chambe—"

"I'm not anyone, I am her King. I am her wife."

Without another word of excuse, she rose from her seat and stalked out of the room. The King wasted no time making her way through the halls of the Keep, her steps were loud as she walked towards your chambers.

The moment Natasha stepped into the chambers, her eyes immediately fell upon your pale form lying in the bed. She was by your side in an instant, her hand reaching out to touch your forehead—and she could feel the heat radiating from you.

"Gods, you're burning up," she muttered, as she took in your sickly appearance. Natasha's eyes darted to the maester as she confirmed that you would be fine in time, and that you had been examined already. "And what is the cause of her sickness?" she questioned, her gaze returning to you.

Wanda cleared her throat, as she darted her eyes on your sleeping form. She breathed, shutting her eyes before she explained the cause of your illness.

"It appears the Queen has fallen ill due to stress and exhaustion," she said with a shaky voice, as she watched Natasha softly caress your body. "And it would be best for her to be left alone for a few days, allowing her body to rest and recover," she added, finally eyeing the King.

"Days?" Natasha repeated as if she didn't hear it clearly.

"Yes…"

Natasha let out a heavy sigh, her mind conflicted. On one hand, she wanted to keep you in her sight and she wanted you to be okay now so she could spend the nights with you fulfilling the obligations of making a long line of heirs. On the other, she knew the maester was likely right about your need for solitude and rest.

"Rest and heal, my sweet. And I will make sure to make up for the night we missed," she said in a soft and gentle tone, only for you to hear as you continued to lie there, your eyes closed in what appeared to be a deep and restful sleep.

"I'll have you full of my seed in no time."

She caressed your face for the last time gently before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

As she withdrew, she turned to the Wanda who was standing just outside the doorway of your chamber.

"Do everything you can to ensure that she is well soon," she instructed.

"Yes, your Grace."

As soon as Natasha left your chambers, you slowly and stealthily got up from the bed where you had been feigning sleep. Your body trembled slightly as you inhaled deep breaths, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You were grateful that your plan had worked, and that Natasha had believed your act of being sick.

Wanda, your trusted maester and ally in your plan, looked at you with a sigh as you got up from the bed.

"I told you hot water and a cloth would do the trick," she said, referring to the method she suggested to fake your elevated temperature.

"I'll have you full of my seed in no time."

"My Grace, are you alright? Are you really sick now? You look pale."

You snapped back to the present, your mind still replaying Natasha's words from earlier when she spoke to you while you were pretending to be in a deep slumber.

"I'm fine," you assured Wanda, your voice a little shaky. "Just a bit…tired, that's all."

Tired of all this.

"Well, I shall leave you alone then, my Grace."

Wanda has been the first person you became close with, and she has been nothing but supportive to cover up for you and your plans. You even heard her lie for you not since a while ago and that was not even a part of your plan. But when the King asked about your condition—your fake condition, she still did with no hesitation.

"Thank you, Wanda."

⧗

It had been several days since Natasha's visit, and you had successfully managed to avoid her so far due to your pretense of being sick. Now, you were stepping out into the gardens, seeking a change of scenery and some fresh air pretending to be sick and staying in bed is making you really sick now.

The gardens were a lovely sight, the sun shining brightly and the flowers in full bloom. You strolled along the pathways, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

As you were walking in the garden, relishing the tranquil surroundings, your eyes caught a glimpse of something or rather, someone—in the distance. It was Natasha, standing next to Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm.

Her gaze was fixated on you and you could tell that she was surprised to see you out and about, considering the fact that you were supposed to be unwell. And now, she is making her way over to you.

Your instincts kicked in immediately, and your first thought was to run. Without hesitation, you darted through the gardens, your heart racing as you navigated the twisting and turning paths of the maze.

As you ran, adrenaline pumped through your veins, and you quickened your pace, determined to elude her as long as possible. You were dressed in a gown made of flowing silk, the fabric soft and lightweight against your skin. The hem of the dress brushed against the grass as you ran, occasionally catching on the leaves of the maze bushes. You sprinted through the maze, dodging and weaving between the high walls of greenery. As you continued running through the maze, your heart rate spiked ever higher when you caught a glimpse of Natasha through the gaps in the leaves.

Seeing her so close, so determined to find you, sent another jolt of adrenaline through your body, the fight-or-flight response kicking into high gear.

Although you were aware that she would eventually catch you, you refused to let her have an easy victory. You steeled yourself, determined to play this game in your own hands.

The twists and turns of the maze became your playground. Every time you thought she was closing in, you would change direction, taking unexpected forks that would put some distance between you again.

As you sprinted through the maze, looking back in the direction you last saw Natasha, a sudden body slammed in front of you. The force knocked you off balance, catching you off guard.

A pair of hands locked around your arms, effectively trapping you, preventing any further escape.

"Are you running away from me?"

Natasha's intense gaze was met with your fearful ones, your heart raced and your words came out in a slight stutter. "Y-your Grace…" you started to say, but your mind was too preoccupied with the situation to form a coherent response. You gulped as you looked away, and then replied with a shaky voice. "No, your Grace," you said, your eyes still fixed on the soil where you were standing. Despite your denial, there was undeniable fear in your voice.

"I was expecting that you're still in your chambers, resting. Wanda told me you're still sick."

"I wanted to go out, g-get some fresh air…"

"You should've come to me so I will go out with you."

"I…" you hesitated for a moment, wanting to be careful on how you're going to say the next words, "I wanted to have some time alone, y-your Grace."

Her grip on your arms relaxed slightly as she heard your response. "I haven't had a night alone with you since our wedding, Y/N," she said, she sounded a bit disappointed that made you hitch your breath. "Look at me." She commanded, leaving no room for disobedience. And you slowly did, as your gazes met, her eyes softened with a little fire of an intense desire, and her proximity to you made your heart race even faster.

In a swift and dominating move, Natasha closed the remaining distance between you and claimed your lips in a searing kiss. Natasha sensed your attempts to resist so she deepened the kiss, her tongue demanding entry, as her hands on your arms pulled you even closer to her.

Your resistance was a futile battle and you finally surrendered to her but you fought not to moan as her tongue explored the cavern of your mouth, leaving you breathless and vulnerable. As Natasha moved her attention towards your neck, her lips and tongue trailing along the sensitive skin, you tilted your head back, submitting to her control.

Her lips left your neck as she leaned towards your ear, her words a low, seductive whisper.

"I shall be expecting to see you in my chambers tonight."

⧗

The evening had arrived, and Natasha made her way to her chamber, fully expecting to find you there—in her bed in all your glory. However, as she entered the room, her eyes scanned the space, but you were nowhere to be seen. Her initial confusion quickly turned into seething anger as she realized you didn't follow her command.

She wasted no time and stormed through the corridors, her patience wearing thin. It has been far too long, and she is determined to have you, one way or another. Her strides were purposeful and filled with seething anger, her mind set on one mission.

To find you and bring you to her bed.

As soon as she stepped into your chambers, her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. She approached the figure lying in the bed, she leaned closer to get a better look of you, and when she dipped her knee to the soft bed, the figure suddenly moved, emitting a piercing scream. Startled, Natasha let out a gasp, quickly realizing it wasn't you but your maid servant.

"Y-your Grace!" The maid servant rushed out apologetically as she immediately threw the thick covers out her body and stood.

"Where is Y/N? Why are you in the Queen's bed?!" Natasha demanded.

"Queen Y/N noticed I-I wasn't feeling well and…well, I am fine but-but the Queen insisted that I am not fine," the maid servant's hands flew in different direction as she tried to explain herself, "and she told me…she insisted that I should rest, right here, in her bed. And she left." The maid servant scrambled, the words coming out in a rush from her lips not wanting to receive the seething anger of the King.

"Forgive me, your Grace…please."

The maid servant's continuous apologies grew quieter as Natasha's attention shifted. Her gaze moved towards the window, where she spotted a figure dashing towards the garden maze. She instantly recognized it was you, and a sly smile tugged at her lips. Ignoring the maid servant, Natasha stepped towards the window of your chambers.

Once again, you found yourself racing through the labyrinthine maze, your breath coming in short gasps as you desperately sought an escape. The twists and turns of the paths seemed to taunt you, creating a confusing web to ensnare you. Fear and adrenaline coursed through your veins, your mind focused on one goal and that is to survive the night without having to spend it on the King's bed.

Natasha's voice echoed through the night, "Making a maid servant sleep in your own bed, just to fool me?"

Despite the gasp that escaped your lips at the sound of Natasha's seething voice, you refused to let it slow you down. Your legs propelled you forward, your bare feet pounding against the cool grass as you continued your race through the maze. There was no time for looking back, only the need to elude her pursuit.

"You were never ill, Y/N!"

As you ran through the maze, the tears of fear started to well up in your eyes, causing you to shut them tightly shut. The emotions coursing through you were overwhelming—fear, defiance, and the weight of the situation hitting you all at once. Yet, amidst it all, a small part of you stubbornly held onto the hope that you could somehow escape Natasha.

Just as you rounded a corner in the maze, a strong body suddenly locked onto you, arms encircling you like a vise grip. Caught off guard, you let out a gasp in surprise, struggling against the strong hold. The realization that Natasha had finally caught you struck you like a bolt of lightning.

"I knew you heard me that time…I never lied when I said I will make sure you're full of my seed."

In a swift and effortless motion, Natasha scooped you up and threw you in her shoulders, her strong grip on your thighs unyielding as she carried you to her chambers. You tried to resist, squirming and fighting against her, but her strength was undeniable. Despite your attempts to break free, it was clear that you had no chance of escape.

The game is no longer in your hands. It never was.

The guards stationed nearby stood at their positions, their eyes averted from the scene. They could only watch as Natasha carried you flailing in her arms, your screams piercing the air. Fear for their own lives kept them in place, knowing full well that they could have their heads off if they bothered to look in your direction.

"Lock the doors!" she barked, her tone leaving no room for questions. The guards obeyed, swiftly securing the chamber doors, sealing you and Natasha inside. Without a moment of hesitation, she hurled you onto her bed, the force of her throw causing you to bounce slightly upon the plush mattress.

"Strip," she commanded in a low voice that made you shiver in fear, "Remove every piece of clothing you wear. I want to see my wife before me in all her naked glory. Do not forget to remove any trinkets or tokens you may be wearing."

Your hands were shaking when you let your dress slip to the floor, revealing your vulnerable form, your body betrays you with gooseflesh. Tears well up in your eyes, spilling over and cascading down your cheeks.

Natasha watched, sitting at the bed as you stripped the last piece of clothing out of your body.

Her cold, green orbs leisurely take in every inch of your bare flesh. They linger on the fullness of your breasts, the pebbled peaks begging for her touch. Her gaze trails down to the small, dark mole at the side of your breast, a unique birthmark that she commits to memory. Her eyes continue their languid descent, taking in the slight roundness of your belly soon to be full of her seed, the flare of your hips, and the soft curls at the juncture of your thighs. She studies the glistening evidence of your fear and humiliation, the pink folds of your pussy already swollen and slick.

The shame of your nakedness burns through you like a physical touch, amplified by the fact that Natasha remains fully clothed. Her silken robes and velvet cloak seem to mock your naked form just reminds you of the game that is now holding place in her hands.

A cruel smile plays on Natasha's lips as she sees the shame and fear in your eyes. She rises once more, her tall form towering over you. Her hands go to the sash at her waist, undoing it with deliberate slowness.

The silk slithers to the floor, pooling around her feet. She begins to slowly unlace her leather breeches, her gaze locked with yours. As the garment falls away, revealing her hardened cock, you can't help but gulp, your eyes wide with trepidation.

She stepped closer to you, caressing your cheek. You didn't know why but you leaned in to her touch as she wiped the tears off your face. She looked at your glossy eyes before she leaned forward, her lips pressing against yours in a soft, yet commanding kiss. Your lips part instinctively, allowing her to sweep her tongue inside, claiming your mouth as hers.

"Open wider," she demands, breaking the kiss to gaze down at you. She tilts your head back further, forcing your mouth open wider. She kisses you again, this time her tongue probing deeper, exploring the warmth of your mouth. She sucks on your bottom lip, pulling it between her teeth and biting down gently.

Your breath hitches, a soft whimper escaping your throat as her kiss becomes more intense. Her hands tangled in your hair and you can't help but moan softly, the sound muffled against her lips.

Natasha broke the kiss and sees the raw innocence in your eyes, the moisture making them glisten like jewels. Your lips are swollen and parted, a thin string of saliva stretching between them, quivering as you suck in ragged breaths. Her gaze darkens with lust and satisfaction.

"My bed has been lacking...heat," she murmurs, her voice low and gravelly. She reaches out, wiping the saliva from your chin with her thumb. "And you, my sweet, are going to warm it tonight."

You took a step backwards and tilt your head to the side to avoid her touch.

"You make it difficult," she says, her voice tight with frustration, "to fulfill the one duty that should be simple. I have conquered cities, bent knees to mine, tamed dragons. And yet, you make it hard for me to plant my seed in your womb."

"Am I just a bearer of your offspring?" you pinched your brows together, finally eyeing the King as the tears cascaded down your face.

"Yes," she replied bluntly, undressing herself, "in this, you are." As her clothing falls away, revealing her breasts and her tanned, muscular body, she meets your gaze squarely. "But know this, my sweet, you are not just any bearer."

"You are my Queen—my own wife who dared to deceive and defy me," she says as she steps forward, her eyes roaming over your body hungrily. "And when I have won, when you carry my child, you will be the mother of my heir."

"And perhaps," she says, her voice dropping to a near whisper as she leans over you, "when this is done, when my line is secured, you will be something more." Her gaze holds yours captive. "But for tonight, you are simply the woman I must breed."

Your heart shatters in your chest as she speaks those words. The cold, hard truth of her intent cuts deep, each word a knife twisting in your soul. You are not her beloved, her equal, but a tool, a vessel to bear her child and you knew it from the beginning.

Without you carrying her offspring, you are nothing.

Natasha then grabs you roughly, flipping you around and throwing you onto the bed. She climbs over you, positioning herself behind your ass.

With a sudden, brutal motion, she thrusts herself inside you, ignoring your cries of pain as she tears through your resisting body. She groans in satisfaction, her hands gripping your hips as she begins to rut into you with merciless force, her dragon's strength overpowering any objections you might have.

"You are mine now," she growls, her breath hot against your ear. "No more defiance, no more resistance. You will bear my child, as is your purpose." Each word is punctuated by a hard thrust, her hips slamming against your ass cheek with brutal intensity.

She pulls out of you suddenly, her thick cock glistening with your virgin blood. Natasha flips you over, pushing your hips in the bed. Her body pressed heavily against yours as she positioned herself between your legs. Without warning, she slams back into you, her dragon-sized cock splitting you open.

You're screaming now, your voice echoing off the walls as she fucks you with brutal, animalistic intensity making your face contort in pleasure mixed with pain.

She moves to silence your screams and releases your mouth long enough to trail her lips down your body, pausing to suckle at each breast roughly, her teeth scraping against your sensitive nipples.

"You are so tight around me, Y/N," she groans, her voice low and possessive. "Your body was made just for my pleasure. Your virgin hole is so snug, clasping around me like a glove. You were made to be filled by me."

Her hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, allowing her to bury herself deeper. As she grinds her hips against yours, she leaned down and your hands immediately clawed at her back, your fingernails digging into her skin.

Her muscled back flexes under your desperate, clawing hands. You feel each ridge of muscle, the hard strength of her. Despite the pain she's causing, despite the brutal taking, your body responds to her, your core clenching around her cock as you feel her powerful body move against yours.

"Y-your…Grace…" you called out for her, mouth open as she tore you apart. You held her neck and the silver locks of her hair, your legs crossed at her waist.

"You're my Queen." She growled in your ear.

"Yes, your Grace!" You cried out in pleasure.

"Then you will take what I give you, you will be painted with my seed and soon enough you'll bear my heir."

Her words made your pussy clench even tighter around her massive cock. She feels it, her thrusts becoming even more powerful as she drives her seed deep into your womb.

She straightens up, her hands gripping your hips as she slams into you one final time. Her body stiffens, her head thrown back in a silent roar as she finds her release. She grinds her hips against yours, ensuring every drop is deep inside you. Then, she pulls out of you slowly, her eyes locked onto your well-stretched opening. She watches as her seed begins to leak out mixing with your virgin blood, a possessive growl rumbling in her chest. Without hesitation, she pushes the escaping seed back inside with her slender fingers.

"My seed stays inside you," she continues to push her fingers inside you, scooping up the white and red liquid, forcing it back into your walls, making sure it's as deep inside you as possible. She repeats this process several times, her fingers pumping in and out of you as she ensures her claim is secure.

The sensation of her fingers pushing into you, combined with the gentle throbbing from her earlier pumps, becomes too much to bear. You can feel yourself growing more and more sensitive, the line between pleasure and pain blurring. You moan, your voice barely a whisper.

"Your Grace...it's too much…"

She ignores your plea, her voice dark as she murmurs, "It's Natasha for you, my sweet." Her fingers continue to push into your overstimulated hole, the motion causing you to convulse around her.

"Natasha…" you stammer, her name tumbling from your lips like a prayer as the intense sensation consumes you. Her name on your lips, filled with such raw emotion, makes her own stomach flutter.

You convulse violently, your body shaking uncontrollably as a gush of liquid spurts out from between your thighs. Natasha muffles her approval against your neck, her voice thick with satisfaction as she feels the evidence of your spend.

"Say it again," she demands, her fingers continuing to pump into you as the aftershocks wrack your body. "Say my name like that again, Y/N." Her own control is slipping, your words affecting Natasha more than she'd like to admit. You whimper, your voice hoarse.

"N-Natasha...Natasha...only...only you…" Each word is punctuated by a sharp breath as your body continues to spasm around her fingers. She lets out a low groan, her head dropping to your shoulder as she listens to you beg for her alone.

"You're so good for me," she praises, her voice rough with desire. She withdraws her fingers from your dripping pussy, bringing them to her mouth to clean them with a hungry suckle. Her eyes never leaving yours as she does so, drinking in the sight of her Queen overcome with pleasure.

"From now on, you will sleep in this same bed as mine so I can ensure that you remain well-bred every night."

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader

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kxsagi · 2 months ago

Note

Hi I saw your request box open and I’m sure it’s full so feel free to ignore!

Can I request with Sae, Chigiri, and Nagi? So basically I have a huge dog that likes to sleep DIRECTLY next to me. Like he’ll let other people sleep on the bed too but he NEEDS to be right next to me. Can you write jow the boys would react to that?

NO PRESSURE IM SURE YOURE BUSY LOVE U QUEEN

“𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠”

a/n: THAT IS SO CUTE UGH I COULD NEVER WITH MY FEAR OF BIG DOGS AND ALLERGIES 😭💔

THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE LOVE YOU TOO QUEEN

ft. itoshi sae, chigiri hyoma, nagi seishiro, kaiser michael, isagi yoichi, shidou ryusei, bachira meguru, itoshi rin

itoshi sae

sae already had a very specific vision for sleeping arrangements. he was gonna hold you. arm around your waist, leg over yours, maybe nuzzle your neck if he was feeling extra affectionate.

instead, he’s lying on the edge of the bed with a great dane’s ass in his face.

“why is your dog spooning you?”

“he always does this, sae.”

deadpan stare. “do you want me or the dog?”

he’s not mad per se. but he is reevaluating his rank in your household.

he tries to move the dog once. gently tugs on its collar like, let me just scoot you over a bit, buddy–

nope. no budging. your dog stares at him with the authority of a thousand ancestors.

sae just sighs and gives up. he sleeps like he’s in exile. sometimes he mumbles, “i’m the national treasure and i’m the one sleeping on the edge. insane.”

but he’ll sneak in extra cuddles during the day to make up for it. and occasionally bribe your dog with expensive treats so he gets some space at night.

eventually forms a bitter alliance with your dog. they both silently agree that you’re the most important one and tolerate each other for your sake.

chigiri hyoma

the first time he comes over and sees your big-ass dog curled up on your bed like it pays rent, he just blinks.

“he sleeps with us?”

you nod and kiss his cheek. “only if he’s in the middle.”

he’s internally like: oh. okay. cool. love this for me.

chigiri adores animals. he really does. but when it’s midnight and he’s trying to pull you closer, and your dog growls just a tiny bit when he gets too close–

he whispers dramatically: “your dog hates me.”

you’re half-asleep like, “he just likes to be near me.”

“so do i, babe.”

eventually he starts sneaking in gymnastic-level maneuvers to at least hold your hand under the dog’s chin.

sleeps with his head pressed to the pillow so close to you that you can feel his breath on your shoulder. like he’s trying to out-snuggle the dog.

starts bringing your dog those fancy hip-and-joint treats, brushing its fur, taking it on runs just to earn brownie points.

dog still chooses to lay between you two every night like a brick wall.

chigiri accepts his fate but tells your dog every night: “i’m watching you.”

nagi seishiro

he just wanted to nap with you. he didn’t sign up for being third-wheeled by a 120-pound fluff monster.

“this bed’s not big enough for all of us, y’know.”

lies down anyway. just lets your dog take over like a defeated man.

one time he woke up to your dog laying on his legs while you were curled up next to it. “… am i furniture now?”

doesn’t move though. just sighs and pulls the blanket up higher. if the dog lets him stay in bed, he considers it a win.

occasionally whines like a child: “it’s too hot… can’t we train him to sleep on the floor?”

“he’ll cry outside the door.”

“ugh. guilt-tripping me like reo.”

tries to out-lazy the dog. if the dog is snuggling with you, he’s gonna snuggle harder. full-body drape. you’re buried under nagi and the dog like a human sandwich.

ends up loving the dog secretly though. takes pics of it sleeping on your lap. starts letting it nap on his chest during the day.

tells reo: “i have a roommate now. he’s fluffy and possessive.”

kaiser michael

this man thinks he’s the dog.

seriously, when he finds out your giant creature of a dog has been laying claim to the spot right next to you, he scoffs like, “that’s my seat, fluffball.”

the first night he tries to sleep over, he struts into your room, sees your dog already curled up on the bed next to you, and just freezes.

“what is this, the boss level of cockblocking?”

attempts a power move.

flops onto the bed and lies directly on top of the dog. “move. daddy’s home.”

your dog does not move. does not care. it just sighs.

eventually, kaiser’s the one who rolls off and grumbles while spooning a pillow instead.

he glares at your dog every night like they’re rivals in a romcom. “go ahead. enjoy it while it lasts. one day you’re gonna get tired and move, and i’ll be right there.”

but during the day? oh he spoils that dog like crazy. buys him a designer collar, steak treats, luxury dog bed (that the dog never uses), even a little hoodie with “kaiser fanclub” embroidered on it.

you catch him once whispering “you and i both love her, huh? let’s truce.” into the dog’s ear. he denies it.

isagi yoichi

he was so excited to finally sleep over and cuddle you. brought his little overnight bag, brushed his teeth early, already picking out which arm he was gonna use to pull you close–

and then he sees your enormous dog already hogging 80% of the bed.

“uh… where am i supposed to go?”

you gesture to the remaining sliver of mattress. “right there, if you don’t mind the edge.”

bless his heart, he still tries.

he lies down sideways, twisted like a croissant, arm half reaching over your dog just to hold your hand.

every time the dog shifts, he flinches.

“did he just growl? was that a growl?”

you: “no, he’s just breathing.”

“he breathes like a tank.”

after a few nights, he gets used to it. even starts whispering “goodnight” to the dog.

one time he found himself spooning the dog by accident in the middle of the night. he was like “well. this is my life now.”

secretly proud when your dog lets him nap next to both of you. like it’s a test and he passed.

shidou ryusei

“awww, your dog loves you more than i do. how cute.”

immediately beefs with the dog.

brings a tennis ball to the bedroom, throws it down the hall, and tries to trick your dog out of the bed so he can claim the spot.

your dog doesn’t even budge. just stares at him.

“damn. alright. i respect that.”

ends up just plopping down on the other side of the bed like a chaotic little gremlin. spreads out like a starfish.

if the dog kicks him in his sleep? he kicks back. lightly. lovingly.

“c’mon, pup. let me spoon your mom.”

probably tries to bribe your dog with bacon. ends up accidentally training him to bark at shidou on sight for treats.

laughs about it like it’s the funniest thing ever.

calls the dog his “furry rival” and “fluffy side chick,” but still gives it head pats.

totally fakes a pout in the morning like “ugh, i didn’t get any cuddles last night. so unfair. i need compensation, babe.”

bachira meguru

“OH MY GOSH LOOK AT HIMMM. LOOK AT HIS BIG FLOOFY FACE. AAAA.”

absolutely obsessed with your dog. immediately drops to the floor and rolls around like he’s trying to become part of the pack.

you leave the room for one second and come back to them doing zoomies around the house.

he fully expects to sleep in a giant cuddle pile with both of you.

when the dog wedges himself between you and bachira in bed, he just smiles like “cute!!!”

lays one arm over the dog and uses the other to hold your hand.

whispers to the dog like “we’re her boyfriends now. this is a throuple.”

if your dog snores? bachira harmonizes.

if your dog farts? “mood.”

he even starts copying the dog’s expressions like he’s trying to become his best friend.

sometimes you wake up and he’s got your dog on his chest like a weighted blanket, mumbling: “he loves me. i knew it.”

itoshi rin

rin thought you were joking when you said your dog "has to sleep right next to me or he gets upset."

he was like, "cool, me too” … and then he met the dog.

rin lies down carefully, like he’s sneaking into enemy territory. the dog gives him a side-eye. rin gives it one right back.

you fall asleep in like 10 minutes, cuddled up with your dog. but your boyfriend is wide awake.

“what the hell is this mutt’s problem…”

he doesn’t move a muscle all night. he is stone. frozen. clenched jaw. silently fuming.

wakes up with a crick in his neck and a burning need to prove himself to your dog.

eventually, your dog stops sleeping between you two… and just sleeps on top of rin’s legs.

rin: “… fine.”

never says he loves the dog out loud. but one time you walked in on him letting the dog rest its head in his lap while he scrolled through his phone and scratched behind its ears.

he saw you, glared, and muttered “don’t say anything.”

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