#stress management in combat

[kiitkattie]

wuthering waves is really pretty guys

[watcherscrown]

i found out like LAST WEEK that bg3 is turn based so now i might actually play it

[historyofguns]

The article "Shooting from Cover — The Key to Gunfight Survival?" by GunSpot, published on The Armory Life, emphasizes the critical importance of using cover effectively during a firefight. It highlights the distinction between "cover" and "concealment" and introduces techniques like "slicing the pie" for safely engaging threats without exposing oneself. The article also features insights from Grant LaVelle, a seasoned SWAT team member, who underscores keeping a safe distance from cover to minimize bodily exposure while shooting. The piece stresses seeking professional firearms training beyond the concepts discussed and encourages practical drills under controlled conditions. The article is bolstered by visual examples of tactical positioning behind cover, advocating realistic practice in environments that simulate real-world obstacles. Overall, it serves as a practical guide on enhancing survivability during armed confrontations.

[thewitchblue]

You've been a hero for years, but you play the same prank on every member of the Batfamily. You have regenerative powers to the extreme that your injuries heal in seconds if you allow it. The first time gets them every time.

You have metal claws and a fury that burns. You shine under stressful situations. You are the key to their success oftentimes. You are a soldier through-and-through with a surprisingly high level of intelligence. You never told them the extent of your experience, but you've shown and proven yourself in combat, so you never had to. So, you started having fun with it.

Dick thought he hit you too hard in the temple with his weapon and panicked when you, taking the opportunity, crumpled to the ground. He's never run so fast. Being the leader, he really didn't want to be charged with murder nor kill one of his greatest fighters.

Tim, poor Tim. He was so exhausted he grew sloppy on a mission. Sloppy enough that you needed to jump in front of a blade for him. Somehow, the blade managed to slip between your ribs and puncture your left lung.

Well, that woke Tim up. He never finished a fight quicker. He speed ran a fight. He was on a timer, and he felt it. You were, seemingly, bleeding out because he stubbornly refused to sleep the night before, and you had to jump in front of a blade for him. He felt guilty and horrified. What does he tell Batman? What does he tell Jason? He'll need to hang up the suit, and he'll never leave the house again. You were the soldier everybody needed. The rock everybody can rely on despite your jagged edges. He knelt beside you. He wanted to check for a pulse, but he knew it was too late. He was fighting the goons for too long. There was no way you survived. Then, he heard your laughter. You laughed in his face, and your eyes opened. You laughed so hard you cried. Tim nearly collapsed on top of you in relief. He won't be killed by Jason or Bruce tonight, and, mostly importantly, you survived. You were a dick about it the entire way back to HQ.

Bruce was frozen in terror. His son's significant other just died on his watch. He was getting flashbacks from the time Jason died. Jason. How was Jason going to forgive him? How was he going to forgive himself? He was the one to suggest you come with him on the mission. He thought it would be easy. A simple mission against Scarecrow. You were the best pick because your system cleared out the fear toxin the fastest out of everyone else. You've seen worse horrors than what the fear toxin could conjure up, so you never falter in the fight. Scarecrow actually feared you because of this. He has yet to find a combination that is strong enough to put you down. Now, Bruce's best soldier was gurgling blood with a slit throat. He's failed you. He let you die. You didn't have a family to mourn you. He didn't know enough about you to properly set up a funeral. How could he let this happen? After everyone was jailed, he let the police take over and ran to your body. Your blood had dried and caked on your neck. He knows a dead body when he sees one, and you are very much dead in his eyes. He sighed heavily as he picked you up, only to almost drop you immediately as you opened your eyes and grinned at him.

"How?"

Was the first question he demanded. He knew your healing factor was very powerful, but to recover from a slit throat seemed like a lot, especially after seeing how much blood you let yourself lose before closing the wound. You playfully punch his shoulder with a grin,

"You know how, old man."

He laughed. Touché. He knows your abilities likely better than you do yourself.

Damian wanted to give you a funeral fit for a king. He liked you the best out of everyone, including Jon. He threw a knife that managed to cut through your skull and lodge into your brain. His panic was immediate but short-lived as you pulled the knife out of your brain and closed to the wound. You scowled because it caused a headache, but you survived quite easily. In that single moment, he considered seriously contacting his grandfather to put you in the Lazarus Pit, but he knew you wouldn't want a second chance at life. He knew you would happily die a warrior's death than live a coward's life. He respected that. Damian nearly cried as he ran to you. He clung to you all day and refused to say why to anybody. You simply returned his hugs and ran your fingers through his hair affectionately. You murmured about forgiving him, and he clung tigher. He knows he doesn't have to guard you on missions, but he's a lot more protective of you outside. Chihuahua privileges.

Barbara watched with horror on the CCTV footage on a local building as you get decapitated. She had flashbacks to her run with the Joker that left her paralysed. The Joker struck again. Instead of taking you hostage, you fought too much. You fought like a whirlwind of adamantium and controlled fury. Joker wouldn't have stood a chance if someone didn't come up behind you and cut your head off. She screamed as your body picked your head up from the ground and put it back on without so much as a wince. Joker ran the second the claws came out.

Cass was petrified. She's seen death before, but your healing factor hadn't seemed to help at all when she found your corpse. You were beaten to death by Bane. She gave an appreciative whistle as she pushes your head to the side to look at the handprints around your neck. He did not go easy on you, that's for sure. She wondered how he didn't die with you. He was skewered like a kebab on your claws, limb limp but claws still out and buried into his heart. She checked and he was still alive. Barely, so you must have been just shy of puncturing the organ. You went down fighting, and that was the best she could have hoped for with you. She went to radio on comms about the news only to be stopped by a clawed hand. She watched in stunned silence as your body heals itself in less than one minute. You sat up and stretched like a cat before removing your claws from Bane. Bane groaned in agony, but you didn't mind him. You merely wiped your claws clean on his shirt with a cheeky smile on your face.

"Well, that was fun. Next time, show up faster, yes?"

Cass could only nod, dumbstruck as you laugh at her expression. Cass knew your healing factor was insane, but you were so clearly dead to her. She never underestimated you again as you told her it was self-control that stopped you from puncturing Bane's heart, not death.

Duke hadn't known fear until he watched Ra's Al Ghul gut you like a fish. Ra's used his fear as a chance to escape, and Duke couldn't find it in himself to chase. He collapsed at your side. It all happened so fast. He had no time to react. No time to stop it.

He screeched when your hands both retracted their claws, and you stuffed your organs casually back inside your body as it healed itself. His eyes were wide as you chuckled at his misery.

"Gotcha. Now, let's get the bastard, yeah?"

Duke could only nod. He was still in shock as you ran your way to catch Ra's. Talia, for what it was worth, gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before sauntering off into the night herself.

Jason was furious, to say the least. Here he was, on his knees over your seemingly dead body only for you to jumpscare him while your body healed.

You cackled like a witch on Halloween as your body heals immediately. You can control your healing factor. To whatever degree you want to. You were never in any danger.

You put the fear of God in many people because of this prank. Jason was fuming.

"Why the fuck would you do that, pipsqueak?!"

His scream echoed in the alleyway you were "murdered" in. You merely laughed. Your claws come out in the moment and you slit your own throat but quickly heal yourself.

"I'm sorry, birdie. You were the last one to do this on."

That was the wrong thing to say because that pissed him off even further,

"THE LAST ONE?! YOU'VE DONE THIS BEFORE?!"

Everyone on the mission watched with amused expressions. It's true. Your prank, admittedly, was mean. Especially to your boyfriend who came back from the grave himself. Fondly, you cup his face with a smile. You said confidently,

"God doesn't have the nuts to kill me, Birdie."

Jason rolled his eyes, scoffing and throwing a tantrum like a toddler. He drops your body. He could never truly be angry with you, but he's pissed you put yourself in the position of needing to be healed in the first place.

"Alright, smartass. I'm not saving your sorry ass next mission. You can do that yourself."

Jason tensed immediately once he hears the snap of your spine breaking, but you weakly laugh and heal it in seconds. Lovingly, you say,

"Bones are harder than organs, asshole."

Now Jason laughs. He was still pissed, but hey. That saves on medical supplies.

[collaredsoldat]

Gentle Hand.

summary: Soldat has a panic attack.

warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier | Post!HTP and abuse | PTSD symptoms & behavior | Panic attacks | Brief medical treatments | Flashbacks of HTP | Past dehumanization | Brief mention of SA

a/n: This was supposed to be posted before the other one I just posted, but I got impatient lol. So it might sound a little out of order, once I have all these parts out I'll put them in order. He's getting through it, you're being patient. Unedited. ;; wc: 3.4k

There were a lot of complicated things with Soldat.

Significant complications with his health, for starters, which caught you off guard given his status as a super soldier. You had initially assumed that his enhanced physiology would grant him a far greater resilience compared to an ordinary human, as had been proven with the likes of Steve Rogers. However, the treatment from HYDRA had somehow managed to infiltrate his system so profoundly and extensively that it had wreaked havoc on his entire physiological makeup, leaving him in a severely compromised state.

The issue of malnourishment was addressed through a carefully planned regimen of intravenous treatments, much to Soldat’s dislike. This approach was complemented by a gradual reintroduction to solid foods, a process that required meticulous attention and patience. The goal was to slowly accustom his system to regular nutrient intake without overwhelming his weakened digestive tract. Not to mention the fact that Soldat often refused food or that his body simply could not handle it, even in small amounts.

Honestly, re-feeding him was a whole other problem you had to tackle.

A similar strategy was employed to combat his severe dehydration and restore proper fluid balance. You also noticed that he experienced significant difficulty in swallowing, a symptom that hinted at potential damage to his esophageal tract or neurological complications affecting his ability to consume liquids normally.

Then, there were the myriad of wounds that covered his body. Stubborn injuries that had been persisting for a duration that far exceeded your initial expectations and caused you considerable worry. You found a small measure of solace in the fact that the majority of these injuries, while numerous, consisted primarily of superficial cuts and bruising.

Treating these wounds was far from easy. His behavior during treatment sessions mirrored a cornered wild animal, skittish and unpredictable, making each attempt at care a delicate and often extremely stressful. You didn’t want to stress him any further than he probably was in a stranger’s home, with a stranger, but you needed to at the very least keep the wounds from bleeding everywhere.

He lashed out at you with his metal arm, swinging wildly without any real force behind it. You could instantly discern that his actions were driven by sheer terror rather than malice. His eyes were wide with panic, darting frantically around the room, and it was evident that he wasn't actively trying to cause you harm. As you approached with the antiseptic and gauze, he bared his teeth in a defensive snarl and let out a feral hiss, his metal arm swinging once more in a desperate attempt to keep you at bay.

He had backed himself into the corner of your bathroom, the face he couldn’t go anywhere was frightening him just as much as you were. "Easy there, Soldat," you murmured, your voice steady and reassuring. "You're not scaring me. These wounds need to be cleaned and treated." Your words were calm and gentle, but they seemed to do little to soothe his frayed nerves.

In another display of agitation, he swung his arm downward, connecting with your tile floor. The impact was forceful enough to shatter the tiles into several jagged pieces, the sound of breaking ceramic echoing through the room. He fixed you with a glare that was clearly meant to be intimidating, but you could see right through it. His expression was a forced mask of hatred, a poor attempt at appearing dangerous. He was trying so hard to maintain this façade of aggression, but his fear was as obviously visible beneath the surface.

"Listen, Soldat," you said, your voice taking on a firmer yet still compassionate tone. "If you really wanted to harm me, we both know you would have done so by now. Your behavior isn't fooling either of us." You gestured to his injuries, your expression softening. "Now, please, let me tend to these wounds. If we don't bandage them soon, you're going to end up bleeding all over the place. That can't be comfortable for you. And I would really appreciate it if you didn't stain my carpet..."

His face held a stubborn, forced scowl, but also an undeniable air of resignation. He relaxed at your approach, albeit marginally, allowing you to come closer. Sharp, audible breaths exited his nostrils in rapid succession, betraying his lingering apprehension. You knew he was tense so you offered reassurance, "You're alright, I promise this won't hurt. We just need to take care of these."

Your words seemed to have enough of a calming effect as you carefully began tending to him, finally able to assess and treat his injuries. As the moments passed and he realized your true intentions were solely to help, not harm, his demeanor shifted. He became increasingly receptive to your ministrations as each cleaning session came, and he allowed you to clean his wounds and change his gauze without resistance.

But there was one thing you couldn't help but notice, and it was perhaps the biggest hurdle of them all. An almost violent aversion to certain actions and decisions.

To the outside eye, they appeared completely random, and they did to you too. At first.

Soldat refrained from doing anything, no matter how mundane, without first seeking your explicit permission. Something as simple as taking a seat or reaching for a glass of water seemed to require your approval.

At first this behavior confused you, but as you observed him more closely, you started to understand a little but more. HYDRA, while you knew very little of his experiences, did a number on his psyche. He was grappling with intense internal struggles, and in an attempt to cope with his sudden freedom, he was projecting his deep-seated need for structure and guidance onto you. By relinquishing control over even the most basic decisions, he seemed to find a semblance of comfort and stability.

This realization left you with mixed emotions.

On one hand, you felt a twinge of discomfort at being thrust into this unexpected role of authority. The weight of his dependence on your decisions was not something you had anticipated or necessarily desired.

Yet, on the other hand, you couldn't deny the visible relief and calm that washed over him when operating within these self-imposed boundaries. Witnessing how this dynamic seemed to provide him with a sense of security and ease, you found yourself reluctantly gave into.

Despite your internal reservations, you knew that this arrangement was serving as a crucial coping mechanism for him during what was clearly a difficult time, even if it had begun from something awful. So, setting aside your own discomfort, you made the conscious decision to lean into this role, at least for now.

Your primary concern was his well-being, and if this is what he needed to feel safe and begin healing, then you were willing to adapt and provide that structure for him.

His comfort level around you was noticeably increasing with each passing day. Gradually, he began to emerge from the bedroom where he had initially isolated himself, seeking out your company in subtle ways.

Your presence seemed to have a calming effect on him, acting as a source of reassurance in his new environment. He made a conscious effort to be in the same room as you, his actions betraying a growing desire for proximity.

He maintained a considerable distance for a while, positioning himself at the far end of whatever space you occupied. He often watched you, or sometimes he’d allow himself to nap, he never spoke. You chose to ignore him most of the time, not wanting to give him too much attention and spook him away.

Time progressed and you noticed a slow but steady shift in his behavior. Like a cautious animal gradually acclimating to a new habitat, he inched closer to you day by day. He continued his gradual migration until he finally felt secure enough to position himself right beside you.

One particularly lazy afternoon, he slowly made his way towards you, his steps heavy with hesitation. Upon reaching the living area, he carefully lowered himself onto the floor adjacent to the couch, his eyes fixed downward on the carpet. Eventually, his gaze lifted, settling on the television screen. He watched the program you had selected, you couldn't help but notice a glimmer of curiosity dancing behind his eyes, his engagement slowly growing with his surroundings.

You had tried many different offers and encouragement, but he refused to make use of any furniture in the house. The comfortable couch remained untouched by him, and the inviting bed you prepared for him went unused night after night. He had ripped the blankets off and curled up on the floor instead.

His reluctance to using the couch and the bed made you start to think. Had he been conditioned to believe that he wasn't allowed to use something as basic as furniture?

You remained silent, not uttering a single word as you observed him sitting there, seemingly without any discomfort. After a moment of hesitation, you decided to break the silence. "You know, you're more than welcome to sit up here with me," you suggested, your voice soft and kind. His head lifted ever so slightly in response to your words, his eyes glancing at you from under the bits of hair that fell over his face.

The soldier's gaze met yours, his eyes filled with a mixture of doubt and confusion. His frown deepened, etching lines across his forehead as if your words were spoken in a foreign tongue he couldn't quite decipher. You gently patted the empty cushion to your left, emphasizing your point. "Really, you can sit up here if you'd like," you reiterated, your tone warm and encouraging, hoping to dispel any lingering uncertainty he might have.

Several minutes pass and he doesn't budge.

You decide to just let him sit there if he wants to, observing his actions without comment. You didn't want to make him do something he didn't want to do anyway. So you turned your attention back to the show playing on the screen, watching she shitty adult cartoon full of jokes and clichés. But you had to admit, it was pretty funny. You felt something beside you, the subtle shift in the couch's cushions as his silver prosthetic makes contact. The furniture dips ever so slightly as the soldier cautiously lowers himself onto it.

His movements are painfully slow and deliberate, as if he's treading on eggshells, anticipating that you might suddenly change your mind or lash out at him at any moment. When he finally settles, his posture is noticeably stiff and unnatural, not to mention his obvious aversion to sitting flat on his ass like a normal person. His wounds and injuries were brutal, and you knew he didn't like to sit often. But right now it seemed like he was forcing himself to do so.

The discomfort radiates from him, filling the air with tension. He sits ramrod straight, muscles visibly taut beneath his clothing, and his eyes are wider than you've ever seen them, pupils dilated and darting around the room. It's as if he's desperately searching for potential threats or escape routes, his entire being on high alert. The sight reminds you of a cornered animal, teetering on the edge of fight-or-flight, barely containing the urge to bolt from the room at the slightest provocation.

"Soldat, it's alright. You're safe here. You can sit here, I said you could," you said in a gentle, reassuring tone, attempting to alleviate his visible anxiety. Your voice was recited soft and steady, hoping to create a calming atmosphere. Soldat still tensed up as you adjusted your position. His reaction was immediate and he recoiled as though anticipating a blow, his body language screaming of deep-seated fear.

His breathing became erratic, each inhale and exhale a struggle. His hands trembled and gripped the cushion with such force that the knuckles on his flesh hand turned white. It was clear he was desperately trying to maintain his composure in what he perceived as a threatening situation. The sight of his internal struggle tugged at your heart, you couldn’t believe something as simple as sitting on the couch could cause him to be this distressed.

‘Assets sit on the floor!’ A heavily armored combat boot collided with its nose, it heard a crack, felt the warmth of thick red ooze running down its face and throat, tasting the metallic flavored substance. The rusty tar. ‘Try to get up here again, and I will chain you up to that fucking stump outside. See if you can withstand below zero all night.’

Its handler really hated when it sat on the furniture. Used a bed. Used a chair. Its handler liked to threaten and hurt it.

He liked it to sit at his feet, like a good asset should. Be silent, be obedient, be subservient and pleasing for handler. Make sure he is satisfied and serviced well. Maybe then it will get to sleep? Maybe it would get a blanket tonight. Maybe it wouldn’t have to serve the team tonight.

Or not.

Concern etched across your features as you observed his distress. "I promise you, everything is okay," you reiterated, your voice laced with sincerity and compassion. However, as you shifted slightly to face him better, it became apparent that this small movement was what he had been unconsciously anticipating. The second you made that tiny little shift in the cushion, he leapt to his feet, his sudden movement causing him to stumble. His knee collided painfully with the coffee table, but he seemed oblivious to the impact.

Backing away from you, his eyes darted wildly around your apartment, resembling those of a cornered animal searching desperately for an escape route. There was panic in his gaze, his chest heaving with each rapid, shallow breath.

Unable to maintain his stance, he sank to his knees, his legs unable to support him any longer. His hands flew to his head, fingers entangling themselves in his long hair, gripping tightly as though trying to anchor himself to reality. His breathing had become so labored and quick that it appeared he was on the verge of hyperventilation, fighting for each breath as though he were drowning on dry land.

He cowered away from you as you approached him with worry, his body surrendering to you.

'Stupid fucking asset! Did they fry out all of your common sense, huh? I said NO sitting on the furniture!' Handler's voice thundered through the room, each word laced with venom and contempt. Its wet nose collided violently with his boot for the second time, the impact reverberating through its skull. A sharp, searing pain pushed into its face, and it wondered if a fragment of its broken nose had been forced inward.

Its handler seized a fistful of the asset's hair in a vicious grip and yanking, forcefully dragging it across the floor. The wooden planks, rough and splintered, scraped against its skin as it was hauled towards the dilapidated door of the safehouse. This ramshackle structure was their temporary refuge for the night, a necessary evil in the unforgiving Siberian wilderness. The biting cold of the subzero temperatures was a constant source of irritation for the American team, who were ill-equipped to handle such extreme conditions.

As its handler stepped outside, the asset felt the icy bite of a frozen chain wrapping around its neck. The metal was chilled to an impossible degree and seared its skin on contact. The unexpected pain elicited a cry of surprise and agony from the asset but it was cut short as the chain constricted, squeezing tightly and cutting off its air supply.

Panic set in as it gasped and clawed desperately at the unyielding metal, its lungs burning for oxygen. Just when unconsciousness threatened to overtake it, the pressure relented, allowing it to gulp in precious air once more. The asset's mind raced, recognizing the depth of its handler's fury in this brutal display.

Its handler secured the other end of the chain to an old tree stump barely visible through the snowbank. The makeshift anchor stood amidst piles of chopped wood, all buried under a thick blanket of freshly fallen snow. The wind howled mercilessly, its icy fingers clawing at both the asset and its handler. 'I'll come back in the morning,' he spat, the words barely audible over the roaring gale.

As its handler retreated indoors, the asset felt the blood on its face begin to crystallize, the crimson stream halting its flow as the subzero temperatures took hold. The relentless wind continued its assault, driving icy particles into every exposed inch of skin. With no other option available, the asset curled into itself, seeking what little warmth it could generate as it resigned itself to enduring the long, brutal hours of frozen misery until dawn.

At least it didn't have to service anyone tonight.

He remained motionless, neither pleading nor protesting.

Its handler hated when it begged most of the time. Sometimes he did like it, but it didn’t want to risk angering you by opening its mouth. No. It should only do that when its handler commands it. Otherwise, it was a whore.

In his mind, he braced for the inevitable feeling of your hand roughly grasping his hair, forcefully dragging him away to face some cruel punishment. How could he have the audacity? Sitting beside you on the couch, as if he dared to consider himself your equal.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly. After several long, dreary seconds that felt like an eternity, he summoned the courage to steal a glance at you. His eyes were partially obscured by strands of unkempt hair, peered out cautiously. His breathing remained ragged and uneven, though he made a conscious effort to quiet it.

Its handler preferred silence, after all.

This thought, ingrained deeply within him, only served to heighten his anxiety.

"Soldat, breathe... it's okay, you're safe here." Your voice broke through the silence, gentle and reassuring, though tinged with a noticeable tremor as you witnessed his breakdown. "It's okay. I'm here. No one else but me. You are safe." You repeated these words, emphasizing them as you carefully lowered yourself to the ground beside him.

The soldier’s hyperventilation persisted despite your gentle efforts to speak to him. You remained undeterred and continued to speak, hoping that somehow your words would penetrate the fog of fear surrounding him.

Or the thick snowbank slowly freezing its skin.

"Whatever you're seeing right now isn't real, it's in the past," you explained, your voice soft but steady. "You're here, in my apartment. It's just us. No one is going to hurt you." You inched closer, gradually closing the distance between you and his huddled, trembling form on the carpet. Your movements were slow as you consciously made the effort to be careful and not to startle him further.

He heard you, the absence of pain confused him, but it also provided some soothing to his pure panic. You were telling the truth.

You weren't going to hurt him.

Soldat's gaze met yours once more, his eyes filled with a profound sadness as he gradually descended from the heights of his attack. His breathing, still irregular and labored, came in erratic bursts, each sudden intake of air punctuated by a noticeable hitch. To your shock, he began to inch towards you, his movements hesitant yet deliberate.

Under his breath, he emitted soft whimpers, struggling valiantly to maintain his silence as he had been engrained to do. His entire form quivered violently, reminiscent of someone caught in the grip of an intense chill, and without warning, he allowed his weight to collapse against you, seeking solace in your presence.

A muffled sound escaped him, barely audible as it was absorbed by the fabric of your shirt. Your arms encircled his trembling frame, careful in case he didn’t want you to do so, but you felt no resistance. As he muffled, your ears pricked and you carefully leaned your head down a bit. Your cheek gently brushed his forehead, your mouth close to his ear. "What is it...you can tell me." You whispered, waiting for him to speak again.

Given the other times he had spoken, you braced yourself for Russian, but those concerns dissipated like morning mist when he finally found his voice and spoke. His words were simple, he murmured out again, the admission barely above a whisper and surprised you when they hit your ears.

"I'm cold."

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover images from Pinterest. I do not claim them as my own.

Taglist: @millercontracting | @teafangirl | @questionableratatouille00 | @buckybarneswife125 | @hazydespair | @leighta | @knoxic | @ghostlyfleur | @beckies000 | @seventeen-x | @freyjhasdesiredreality | @curlycow01

Let me know if you'd like to be added/unadded anytime.

[percyluvr]

Hiii!!! If your requests are open could you do an injury fic with Luke and a Persephone reader? Where she gets hurt during capture the flag or smth like that and this man starts stressing even if he’s on the opposite team and didn’t know what was going on when she got hurt?

luke castellan x daughter of persephone!reader summary: you get hurt during capture the flag and luke gets worried wc: 885

Luke Castellan is very particular about his capture the flag team, and everyone at camp knew that, which is why it came as a surprise when you and him were on separate teams.

When asked, he would just say that the two of you had decided to have a competition on who could create the better capture the flag strategy, but it was deeper than that. The two of you had a small fight because you felt that he never let you help with the strategy enough, and you felt like he never really let you in on the combat. It was almost like he thought of you as a delicate flower, and when you brought it up, he got irritated, telling you that he wasn't trying to control you, he just didn't want you to get hurt.

You'd gotten mad and stormed out, and now neither of you knew where you stood, and preparing for capture the flag against him wasn't helping at all. The few days leading up to capture the flag were some of the most hostile days each month, and this time was no exception. It may just be a camp war game to some campers, but to others, especially your teammate Clarisse, this was a big deal. Clarisse was always rude and quite hostile towards your boyfriend, but it was worse than ever now.

You and Clarisse were an unexpected duo, but you two had a special connection, considering each other your best friend, so when you told her what happened between you and Luke, she was pissed off, to say the least.

"Thanks for telling me that, I'm gonna hand his ass to him on Friday," she said, running her hand along your arm, trying to comfort you to her best ability.

"Thanks, Clarisse, I can always count on you if I want someone to get beat up," you joked, making her laugh.

The next few days went by quickly, you and Clarisse rigorously training with each other and going over your plan as co-captains. You'd always loved being on the same team as Clarisse before you started dating Luke, and now you finally got to be again.

On the day of capture the flag, you and all the campers headed into the forest, getting into your positions. The game began, and you and Clarisse charged into the other team's territory.

As a daughter of Persephone, you had the ability to manipulate certain plants, which was helpful, especially at camp, because you could control almost all of the plants that were there. Unfortunately, with great power comes a great ego boost, which you fell victim to.

You and Clarisse were basically wiping the floor with your opponents, when you got caught up in your head, confidence overflowing, and tried to create a longer vine, accidentally tripped over it, and fell right into the sword of the camper you were fighting. Luckily, you had managed to move your body so that you didn't get stabbed anywhere fatal, but you did get an incredibly deep cut right under your ribcage, which caught the attention of Clarisse. Seeing you injured fueled Clarisse's rage, and she quickly finished the fight.

Immediately, she picked you up bridal style, rushing you through the woods to the infirmary. She passed by Luke, and at first he ignored it, but then he did a double take after realizing it was Clarisse, and saw you in her arms, blood soaking through your orange Camp Half-Blood shirt. Even though he was in the middle of a fight, he booked it in the direction the two of you were heading, now full of worry.

He finally caught up to the two of you, surprised at how quick Clarisse was. When Clarisse caught sight of him, she cracked her knuckles and gave him the dirtiest look you had even seen in your life. You bit back a laugh.

Luke rushed up to where you were sitting on the bed.

"Baby, are you okay? Please tell me you're okay," he said, voice filled with desperation.

You gave him a pained look, gesturing to the large blood-soaked bandage covering the left side of your abdomen. "Well, I have a near fatal hole going through my side, but other than that, I'm great," you say dryly.

"C'mon, don't be that way. I'm sorry for what happened last week, okay? But see, this is why I'm so protective. I can't let anything happen to you, I don't want to lose anyone else," he whispers, eyes glazed over.

At this point, Clarisse is long gone. Knowing her, she probably left because she couldn't stand to see you and Luke being all 'lovey dovey,' as she calls it.

"Well... yeah. I guess I see your point. But I still think that you should let me help more, please."

"Okay, you're right. I know you're perfectly capable, I'm just scared. I've lost too many people and losing you would be too much to handle, so please be more careful, okay?" He eyes your bandage, giving you a grimace.

You respond by pulling him down to your face by his shirt, and give him a sweet kiss, which he reciprocates almost immediately. It almost made you laugh how quickly he kisses you back, even though it happens every time.

[bkgml]

Omg! Just found your profile and I literally fell in love with your writing, it’s AMAZING! That’s why I’m here to request a Bakugo x fem!reader where the reader has a telekinesis quirk and overworks herself during practice. After that Katsuki can’t seem to find her anywhere until he searches in her room and find her in bed with lights off and just enter protective boyfriend mode? Thank you so much, hope you’ll write it! 🧡🧡🧡

you felt your head pounding as you stare down at the gym mat. you’ve been training heavily all afternoon and you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your limit.

“yn, you good?” sero asks stepping closer to your hunched over form.

your eyebrows furrow and your ears ring. god your head is pounding.

“yeah.” you mutter weakly, breathing deeply through your nose.

“you’ve trained enough for today, go rest up for the test tomorrow.” he says sternly.

“no i’m good, one more round.” you say, standing to your full height in an attempt to mask your pain.

“you’re gonna fucking pass out. go upstairs.” he says, pushing you gently in the direction of the gym doors.

“fine fine i’m going.” you laugh weakly, stumbling outside.

“and drink some fucking water!” he yells.

****************************************************

“i’m gonna kick your ass.” katsuki snarls.

kirishima just knocked him down and katsuki is not happy.

“bro, you’re getting weaker.” kirishima teases, way to poke the beast.

katsuki launches into another attack, pummeling kirishima.

****************************************************

after your quick shower, you stumbled into bed and pulled out your phone.

*calling: katsuki <3*

straight to voicemail.

you sigh, trying to relax, but the stress of your combat test as well as your sore muscles are forcing you to stay awake.

*calling: serooo*

“yo, yn! this fight is crazy, kirishima and bakugou are killing it!”

“nice!” you attempt to sound excited, but you feel like shit.

“…so, katsuki’s still training then?” you say sadly.

“uh yeah he is, do you want me to get him though?” he offers.

“no, it’s okay. just tell him to call me when he’s free, okay?”

“yeah, course. bye, feel better!” he cheers.

“bye sero.” you mumble, arm flopping back on the bed.

you’re so frustrated. you just want to relax and sleep but you can’t manage to.

****************************************************

“hey bakugou.” sero says, running up to him after katsuki finishes sparring.

“hm?” he hums while chugging his water.

“yn told me to tell you to call her.” katsuki’s eyes furrow.

“where is she?” he asks.

“she’s in her dorm. she overworked herself during training, looked like shit.” he replies.

katsuki frowns deeply, pushing past sero and through the gym doors.

“fuckin told her… don’t overwork yourself… just can’t listen.” he grumbles, trudging in the direction of your dorm.

he creaks your door open slowly to not wake you.

“suki?” you murmur, head lifting to peer at your door.

“what are you doing up?” he sighs.

“can’t sleep.” you whine.

“yn i told you not to fuckin overwork yourself.” he grumbles, shutting the door behind him.

“i’m just really stressed out right now, kats. ‘m sorry.”

he sighs, walking over to thread his fingers through your hair.

“i know angel. we can train more tomorrow, you just need to rest properly in between spars, okay?” he says, kissing your forehead softly.

you nod and grab his hand.

“come here.” you whisper, eyes flicking up to his.

“i’m so sweaty. gonna have a quick shower.” he explains and you frown lightly.

“5 minutes. just rest, alright?” he kisses your head before walking into your bathroom.

you try to breathe and relax to the white noise of the shower but your headache overpowers your exhaustion.

****************************************************

“why aren’t you asleep?” he frowns, grabbing boxers from a drawer he occupies.

“i can’t, im too nervous for the test.” you frown, getting frustrated.

“you’re going to pass, i promise.” he says, dragging the towel over his hair while walking over to you.

your frustration builds tears in your eyes causing you to turn away from him.

katsuki sighs, climbing into bed and cradling you gently.

quiet sobs fill the room and you bring your hand up to harshly wipe at your eyes.

“let me kiss you.” he mumbles into your shoulder.

you turn in his grip and bury your face into his chest.

you remain there until your tears stop and you lift your head to look into his eyes, pecking his lips.

he stops you from pulling away by resting his hand on the back of your head, thumb rubbing up and down to massage your scalp.

you sigh into the kiss and feel your eyelids grow heavy.

“sleep now.” he murmurs against your hairline.

you nose at his jaw softly, tucking your face into his neck.

“night.”

he cradles you in his arms.

“night.” he says, smiling against your scalp.

[herkonular]

SEVENHİLLSSHOPPİNG - MEGA+ (2)

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[eggluverz]

Dan Feng's disciple! Reader x Dan Heng IL Synopsis Idea: She tried to stop them from taking him away from her, she really did. But Jingliu and Jing Yuan were quick to stop her. She spent so many nights alone... Until she saw him. The man she loved and would give up her life for. She's not letting him slip away from her this time. Thank you~~❤️

AFTER ALL THIS TIME

PAIRING. dan feng x f!reader; dan heng x f!reader

WORD COUNT. 3,741

SUMMARY. you were the great imbibitor lunae's disciple. he trusted you with his life and you with his. but when the time came, you weren't able to save him. what happens when you run into his reincarnation years down the line?

SOF'S NOTE. i had so much fun writing this!! i wrote it 2 days ago now but i just haven't had the time to post it t-t but i'm finally moved into my new place and managed to squeeze this post in <3 i rly rly enjoyed writing this so i hope y'all enjoy reading!! and special ty to the anon who requested this!! ^-^

The art of cloudhymn magic was difficult to master. Even as a high elder yourself, there were intricacies you could not figure out on your own. But you trained daily, practiced in seclusion, and read all the books passed down from the most renowned masters. 

Each day, your knowledge grew. Your natural talents aided you in perfecting your own personalized form of cloudhymn magic.

Still, Dan Feng noticed flaws in your execution. Movements that should be more precise, patterns that should flow more intricately. You noticed him silently watching you on the vast training grounds. He wasn’t much older than you, yet his magic was already intricately refined— The makings of a leader to the Vidyadharas.

He saw great power within you, he told you in passing as he took you under his wing. There was much you could gain from him, he promised. 

Years went by as you studied under Dan Feng. He has many supporters and people who looked up to him, but he only allowed you as his disciple. You were the only one who could rightfully address him as master. 

As he grew in his status as a member of the High Cloud Quintet and later the Imbibitor Lunae, you too grew in your mastery of cloudhymn magic. You were able to learn Dan Feng’s signature combat skill of deflecting iron, making arrows of most enemies fall flat at your feet. But your skill shined in the illusions you were able to create. Not even the Imbibitor Lunae was as skilled in that art as you. 

Your power grew and as such, Dan Feng recognized you as more of an equal than a disciple. Out of respect for all the teachings he imparted on you, you still called him master. There was no way you would reach your level of strength in this short amount of time without someone like him fostering your talents.

Along the way, you found yourself viewing him as more than your master. When he began treating you as someone who matched his power rather than someone with much to learn, you were able to feel confident in all your abilities.

One late night, Dan Feng took you to his sacred training grounds for a sparring session. He had just returned from a stressful battle and while the casualties were low, they were more than he felt comfortable with. 

“If anything happens to me, at least I will know the Vidyadhara will be in good hands,” Dan Feng commended as you blocked the tip of his spear from grazing the base of your neck. 

You quickly shifted your gears from defending to attacking, knowing if you let Dan Feng get too many attacks in, he would be almost unstoppable. Spinning your spear in your hands, you imbued the weapon with water and launched it directly at your master’s chest. 

A normal man would have fallen dead before even realizing you attacked him, but not the Imbibitor Lunae. He sidestepped, the scene appearing like a mirage due to his speed. 

“Nothing is going to happen to you, master,” you scoffed. “You’re the strongest Vidyadhara alive. Not even I could defeat you in battle.”

He hummed, tapping his spear to the back of your neck, signaling you lost this spar. “Battle is not the only way someone can fall.”

Wiping a bead of sweat off your forehead, you sighed, sauntering away from him and back inside his living quarters. “Continuously speaking of your self-proclaimed inevitable downfall is unbecoming of you, master. What would the people think of a disciple who follows someone without faith in his own ability to live?” 

Dan Feng chuckled softly. “A pitiful disciple, is what outsiders would say.” You nodded and he stopped you in your tracks, running his index finger against your jaw. His fingernail dug into the bottom of your chin to lift your head until your burning gaze met his sharp one. “But we never cared much about what outsiders think, did we?” 

You placed your palm against his chest, feeling the detailed fabric of his garments. They were thick yet light, a sign of great craftsmanship that only the highest of elders could afford. You allowed your hands to roam along his body before Dan Feng grabbed your wrist, his long fingers wrapping easily around its circumference. 

He smirked. “Wait until we’re indoors, my beloved.” 

“Yes, master,” you complied with a roll of your eyes before releasing the front of his outwear. You held complete respect for the Imbibitor Lunae, and you revered him as such. But those moments when it was just you and Dan Feng—just you and your partner—you weren’t one to shy away from meeting his biting remarks. 

This night, like many, led to moments of passion on the silken sheets draped over Dan Feng’s mattress. It was a mixture of love, respect, and the intense craving for more. 

Your master, the Imbibitor Lunae, a member of the High Cloud Quintet— Dan Feng was many things. But most importantly, he was yours. 

Until he wasn’t. 

No good thing was meant to last, Dan Feng once said during an endless night of reflection as he laid in bed beside you. Friendships, relationships, entire civilizations, built to be destroyed from the start. 

No good thing was meant to last. But he would fight his damned hardest to ensure they did. 

And for once, his hardest wasn’t enough. 

It was the middle of the night when your living quarters were barged into. You woke with a start and noticed Dan Feng quickly wrapping your robes around your naked body. 

The noises weren’t at the bedroom yet; you heard the thuds from outside and you immediately called for your strongest weapon. Noticing even the slightest of your movements, Dan Feng softly placed his hand on top of yours. Almost imperceptibly, he shook his head. 

Your eyes widened, wanting to ask what he could’ve possibly been thinking. There was a large group of men outside with hostile intent, did he not want to protect himself from an attack? 

“I am going to see what they need,” he said calmly, pulling you into his arms and leaving a kiss on your forehead. “Please, stay here for me.”

A few members of the High Cloud Quintet—Dan Feng’s closest friends that easily became yours as well—were staying at the guest chambers at the Imbibitor Lunae’s invitation. At the commotion outside, Jingliu came in with a groggy look on her face, tired from being woken up, but not an ounce of surprise in her. 

Dan Feng nodded to her and a silent Jing Yuan that filed in behind her. “Jingliu, Jing Yuan… Make sure she stays out of harm’s way.”

“Of course,” promised Jing Yuan, a soft smile painting his lips despite the sad look in his eyes. 

As he spoke, the doors to the bedroom burst open, a trio of Vidyadhara Preceptors breaking down the defenses you and Dan Feng had set. Your spear was in your hand in an instant and you tightened the knot on your robe with your other hand. 

Dan Feng stood straight in high alert, though his expression remained as one of nonchalance and arrogance. “Can I help you?”

Without a single moment spared for niceties, the Cloud Knights charged in to grab the Imbibitor Lunae. The Preceptors sent chains of rope instead of metal to wrap around Dan Feng. Your eyes blazed as you immediately called upon your cloudhymn magic. Water danced around your spear in sharp droplets, and you pointed it directly at the Head Preceptor. 

He narrowed his eyes in your direction. “Stand down, or you will face the same punishment.” 

“That’s only if you can beat us,” you laughed with disdain. Despite the big group, you were certain you and Den Feng had the ability to hold them off together. 

“Don’t,” Jingliu called out, gently placing her hand on your shoulder. “We can’t help him anymore, Y/N. Not after what he did. Don’t get hurt in the crossfire.” 

You knew what Dan Feng had done. For Yingxing. And you both knew the crime he would have to commit to help his best friend, but you never imagined the punishment would be so severe. A crowd of Cloud Knights and even a group of the Vidyadhara Preceptors here, together, all to subdue the Imbibitor Lunae. 

But it didn’t matter the crimes he committed or the consequences he may have incited through his actions. None of it mattered because he was your Dan Feng. Your master and your lover who you would protect with your entire life. 

Unfortunately, Dan Feng seemed to know that, having gotten Jingliu and Jing Yuan here to hold you back.

Before you could move, Jing Yuan held your arm back and prevented you from using your spear. Your eyes widened in shock. 

“Jing Yuan…?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s too late for Dan Feng, but not for you.”

The Cloud Guards briefly turned their attention towards you and the members of the High Cloud Quintet. Their swords raised as they noticed the fire in your eyes. 

Dan Feng snarled when he saw their focus on you. “If you hurt her, you will all pay,” he warned, his voice a low growl that would’ve made an ordinary man quiver. He began to move his arms in a way that could only be described as the start of a cloudhymn spell and in an instant, all eyes were on him. The ropes tightened, restricting his movement in a way that caused immense pain. 

“I love you,” were Dan Feng’s last words as he was forced out of his own estate. “Take care of yourself, my beloved.”

“Why do you speak as if you’re going to be gone?” you cried, refusing to believe someone as strong as your master could be subdued even by a group as large as this. “I’ll come get you—!”

You felt the sharp point of a sword on your neck as you summoned your spear. The nick was only a warning, but it was enough to draw blood. Your eyes widened and you stilled under the mercy of Jingliu’s weapon. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You cannot.”

Feeling helpless and pathetic, all you could do was fight to not lose consciousness as Jingliu swiftly knocked you out. 

Your eyes drifted open and shut, your hand that was wrapped around your spear instantly loosened and the weapon that contained so much power fell at your side like a dull needle. 

The next time you woke, you were at your own residence. You had left this place to have a sanctuary with Dan Feng. Your sanctuary that was invaded, attacked, and taken from you. 

You went back on forth between two states of mind. One was complete and utter numbness at the loss you suffered. The other was uncontrollable pain and sadness. 

You spent your days and nights crying, refusing to see a single soul. You turned your meals away even when your loved ones begged you to take a bite. There was a hole in your heart at the thought of your master’s punishment. 

In your eyes, Dan Feng’s own best friends betrayed him, betrayed you. And after that night, you knew you would never want to be in contact with any of them again. 

To save a life, to save a friend who no longer regarded Dan Feng in the same light… You never could have imagined the punishment would be forced reincarnation. 

Uncontrollable sobs racked through your body, throat hoarse from the amount of crying you’ve done for weeks straight. It wasn’t only forced reincarnation, but also torture and imprisonment you knew he was facing. 

You had the strongest Vidyadhara alive as a master, yet you failed to learn enough to save him. When it mattered most, you couldn’t help.

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and months turned to years. Those thoughts ate you alive before you were able to finally continue on with your life. 

You were no longer a Xianzhou resident. You refused the help the Vidyadhara with any advances in medicine and combat, keeping any profound knowledge of cloudhymn magic that Dan Feng shared only with you to yourself. The Preceptors couldn’t be trusted with anymore power. They had made themselves and enemy to you. As did the Cloud Knights, and inadvertently, the Cloud Knight General himself. 

Still, you tried not to let the hatred consume you. Vengeance would only breed insanity. Your mind would be consumed with sorrow and pain and you would never be able to heal. 

Dan Feng wouldn’t want that. 

You had to continue to live, for the both of you. 

Using your privilege as a Vidyadhara, you were able to travel around to different planets with relative ease. There were so many things to experience, such beautiful things to see—when you weren’t tangled in constant politics and battles. Your only wish was that Dan Feng was here to explore the universe with you. 

There were places where he didn’t need to have the pressure of the world on his shoulders. He wouldn’t be Imbibitor Lunae. He wouldn’t be a member of the famous High Cloud Quintet. Instead, he would just be Dan Feng, and you would get to explore the world as such. 

You wondered if his transition into the modern world would have been as smooth as yours. As you reminisced about your past, a nostalgic smile formed on your face. 

As you walked around this new city, you stared up at the flurries of pink and purple in the sky. The scenery was amazing here. With vast bodies of water and a bustling area of commerce and entertainment on the shorelines, you couldn’t help but look around in awe. Amidst your sightseeing, you felt yourself run into someone, dropping the map you held in your hands. 

“Oh!” you gasped in surprise. “I wasn’t looking at where I was going. I apologize.” 

“I wasn’t looking either,” the stranger said in response, picking the paper map up for you before the wind could sweep it away. “Here you go.”

As he handed you your belongings, you finally managed to get a good look at his face. Surprised by what you saw—what you felt—you accidentally dropped the map once more. 

The man gaped at you before hesitantly reaching down to pick up your map once more. This time, he held it instead of giving it back.

“Would you like your map back?” he asked slowly, this expression unsure.

The memories of the past slammed into you as you looked into his turquoise eyes. The bright green burned into yours. This man in front of you did not have the characteristics of a Vidyadhara. He did not don horns, a tail, or sharp ears like he once did. But there was no doubt in your mind— This was Dan Feng. At least, the person that emerged from Dan Feng’s forced reincarnation.

Tears started flowing down your face as you wondered what to say. Should you even say anything? You didn’t want to lose him again, but you wondered if the man in front of you would even want to get to know you. Dan Feng was a high elder, a powerful one at that. This man must’ve had some dreams about his past life— What if they were bad? What if they were all of the punishment? The crime? What if no part of him remembered you?

As you stood there, stuck in your thoughts, you noticed the stranger staring at the horns on top of your head. Then, at your tears. 

Without saying a word, he seemed to understand. “I’m not him.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you felt choked up. You knew that. Of course a reincarnation wouldn’t be your Dan Feng. But would it be close enough? 

Shaking your head, you scolded yourself internally. This man is not Dan Feng, he said so himself. And it would be twisted to project the qualities of your lover onto him without even getting the chance to know him.

“I know,” you said sadly, a disdainful smile on your face. “I just…sensed some of him in you.”

He nodded, a guarded look on his face despite the tilt of curiosity from his neck.“What were you to him?”

You smiled sadly, clutching the map in your hands and relaxing again. “His disciple. A close friend,” you said. You gazed into his eyes with an unwavering look. “His partner.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

He hesitated for a moment, looking around the area. You were at the beachside with patches of sand, grass, and pavement lining the ground. “Would you like to sit somewhere and talk?”

Deciding it would be rather tiring for you to stand and talk all day, you agreed with his suggestion. Silently, you walked over to the sand with Dan Feng’s reincarnation in tow and took a seat. The ground was warm and soft as you ran your fingers through the rocky granules.

As you watched the waves crash against the shore, you felt your body relax. Cloudhymn magic often   well with the element, and you found you had a natural affinity towards it yourself. 

After a few moments passed, you figured that, since he wasn’t Dan Feng, it would be rather rude of you not to introduce yourself. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

He gazed out into the water before turning his head to you. “Dan Heng.”

Although you attempted to hide your amused grin, you felt the corners of your mouth lifting upwards. “Creative.”

He shrugged, fighting off a smile of his own.

“So, Dan Heng… Do you remember anything about your past life?”

“Some things,” he admitted, resting a palm on the sand behind his back. “None of them are good.”

You frowned. There was no doubt you blamed the Preceptors for that. Dan Feng lived years and years of life, love, and even sorrow. But for his reincarnation to only know him as something negative? That didn’t sit well with you. 

“Although, I have to wonder,” he continued, gazing at you with an inquisitive look in his eyes, “if he was capable of love and partnership, could he be more than the arrogant criminal my memories have painted him out to be?”

You softened. Any hatred he felt towards Dan Feng wasn’t his fault. And he was certainly struggling as Dan Feng’s reincarnation. 

“He was certainly more than a criminal,” you promised. “More than the Imbibitor Lunae, even. Dan Feng was a real person who experiences emotions and feelings, like any other.” 

Dan Heng’s brows furrowed, but he said nothing. 

“If you want to learn more about him, I’ll always be here for you to ask.”

“And if I don’t?” 

You smiled sadly. “As much as that pains me, it’s your right. Each Vidyadhara can choose how much of their past they want to remember or embrace— Or if they want to start anew completely.”

“I do.”

A long exhale escaped your mouth as thoughts of your past filled your memories. You made no mistake— The man in front of you was not Dan Feng. Dan Feng was deceased, and holding on to any hope would only be futile and lead to more main. 

Instead, the man in front of you was Dan Heng, a reincarnation of Dan Feng. A Vidyadhara who deliberately chose to not incorporate his past life into his current. And that was okay.

“I am remorseful,” you admitted. Dan Heng nodded in understanding. “However, I am comforted knowing his reincarnation is here, and he looks happy. Dan Feng would be happy for you.”

He laughed quietly. “I find that hard to believe.”

You gave him a look. “You don’t know him like I do.” 

“Yes, you’re right.” 

Dan Heng sighed in contemplation, conflict evident in his expression. You weren’t sure what exactly what he was thinking, but you sensed deep turmoil within him. It was only natural, you assumed, after something he had such conviction for was shaken at its very foundation. 

“Do you want to board the Astral Express with me?” he asked hesitantly. 

You blinked at the sudden question. “Pardon?”

“Sorry,” said Dan Heng, clearing his throat. “That was impulsive.” He paused before continuing. “From talking to you, I gathered that maybe you’re being held back by your past, too.”

Your eyes widened in surprised. You didn’t except him to be so blunt. Perhaps he had some similarities to Dan Feng after all. 

“If you’re lost or want a place to call home, maybe you can pay it a visit,” he offered nonchalantly. “We travel the universe and occasionally assist some planets. I have a feeling you’d like it.”

The Astral Express? You wondered how a place like that would be. For so long, you’ve been traveling alone, avoiding the Xianzhou and even some Vidyadhara who might know of your existence as Dan Feng’s disciple and lover. 

A part of you longed for a social connection again— A place to belong. 

After some thinking, you asked, “Do you want me there?” 

“Yes— As Dan Heng though,” he reminded firmly. “Not Dan Feng.”

You laughed in amusement. “Good. I’m interested in getting to know your new life, Dan Heng,” you said, extending your hand out for him to shake. “Thank you for inviting me in.”

He took it gently, his hand lingering on yours even after the handshake was over. “Maybe you can tell me more about Dan Feng once we arrive at the Express. The parts that aren’t so bad.”

The look on his face told you he was genuine. You smiled. “I’d love that.”

Understanding passed between the two of you as you sat there in contentment. The wind whirled around you and the steady sound of the waves soothed your soul. 

“I want to learn about Dan Feng’s life,” concluded Dan Heng, unwavering. “Still, I think it is best if we look forward to making new memories of our own more.”

You nodded in quiet agreement, eyes never leaving his. 

The past was something you held near and dear to your heart. Dan Feng was someone you would always love and respect. But perhaps the future would have more in store for you, if you only allowed it. 

And as Dan Heng smiled his small smile and offered you a hand up from the sand, you thought, This time, you would. 

[bouncybongfairy]

Stress Relief

Bakugou x Fem Reader

Summary: Aizawa offers you extra credit to tutor Bakugou for an upcoming test. Need I say more?

Word Count: 1.5k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Rough Smut, Oral Female & Male Receiving, Facial.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Sitting in your room and dissociating never felt so good. It was finally the end of the week and you felt properly chewed up and spit out. Muscles were sore and brain was fried, all you wanted to do was sit in silence. Emptying out your backpack and organizing everything on to your desk. The stress you were under was slowly chipping away at you. Hearing a knock at the door made your eyes roll, the last thing you wanted was to interact with anyone. Wiping the scowl off your face, you go to greet the unwanted guest. The feelings of annoyance quickly turned into insecurity once you saw it was Aizawa and Bakugou. Trying to casually fix your appearance as he began speaking in his monotone voice. 

“Hello, sorry I didn’t mean to come to your dorm directly but this is a time sensitive matter. Bakugou needs a passing grade on this next test, I’m willing to bump your grade up 5% if you agree to help,” he explains, making Bakugou’s frown deepen. 

“Oh of course, we can start right now,” you said, practically beaming. Having your grade pushed up five percent was a God sent gift at this point in the semester. 

“Wonderful, Bakugou, please try to be open to the tutoring,” Aizawa said before walking away. 

You gestured for him to come in, made you feel nervous watching him take in the room. All your posters and collectables are now starting to feel a little dorky. Not really sure what to say, you just sat in silence as he took in your room. You were pretty soft spoken and he was anything but that. It often worried you seeing how dark he was. It was so apparent that his anger issues were coming from a deep wound from the past. When all your friends would gossip, they talked about him with such vascularity and objectification was quite sad. As much as you tried to discourage this, there were times you agreed. The intimidating look he always had written across his face. The way his pent up rage came out during combat training. 

It frustrated you knowing that he could overpower you. Any time you were paired to spar, he always managed to out maneuver you. Pinning you to the ground or wall. As much as it affected the confidence you had in your combat abilities, it made you feel warm and fuzzy. The last time the two of you were sparing, he grabbed your forearm so hard it left a bruise in the shape of his hand. You stared at it in the mirror for a while, confused why you liked it so much. Running your fingertips over the purple and brown blotches. Thinking about the way he looked into your eyes when throwing you to the ground. Walking away with no care or regard for you physically or mentally. It made you melt even though you’d never admit it. The two of you were sitting at your desk, helping him with his English assignment; he was getting frustrated and you were enjoying it a little too much.

“That just doesn’t make any fucking sense. The assignment was to summarize the fucking article. I don’t have to talk about my feelings about it, it’s not even specified!” he said, raising his voice. 

“I could understand you don’t want to give your opinion on it but the teacher isn’t going to accept it until you do. You’re being ridiculous,” you huffed the last part under your breath. 

“Excuse me?” he asked, folding his arms. 

“Nothing, i’m just saying the assignment-” you started but became interrupted. 

“No, go on. Explain why I’m ridiculous, I wanna hear you say it,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows and grinding his teeth. 

“You are ridiculous. Are you so ignorant that you don’t understand how lazy you are? You act like academics is optional and that you can rely solely on your combat. Nobody else will, so I'll be the first to tell you: Thinking physical prowess will get you where you wanna be is stupid and delusional,” you say, starting to pack his papers up. 

“If anyone is stupid and delusional it’s you, we both know the real reason you accepted this little study session,” he scoffs standing up. 

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, knowing exactly what he was implying. 

“Do you think I don’t notice you staring at me? Finding any opportunity to throw yourself at me. I can only imagine what runs through your head while you watch me. I have an idea by the way your cheeks flush and your pupils get wide. The way your body shakes when we spar. It’s stupid and delusional for you to think I'd ever want anything more than your body,” he said, now backing you against the wall.

You weren’t sure what to think, part of you felt like this was him showing his interest in you. Another part of you was worried he was just being cruel. Like he was stringing you along, trying to make you look desperate just to pull away.

“Interesting way to say you want my body, if you wanted me that bad you could just ask,” you patronize. 

“I wouldn’t have too,” he said, grabbing you by the throat and pushing you against the desk. 

You were now halfway sitting on the edge of the desk. Legs dangling off, separated by him grinding against you. Letting go of your hair, holding your face in his hands. The kiss was sloppy and wet, not being able to get enough of each other’s touch. You reached down and ran your hands up his back towards his shoulder. Lightly scratching down as he started kissing your neck. Nipping and sucking hickies on you, his heavy breathing giving your body goosebumps. Your hands begin to wander, fingers dipping into the back of his pants. Tracing all the way around, stopping when you felt his happy trail. He sits back on the office chair and stares you down. This makes you blush, sliding off  and onto your knees. Your body was slightly under the desk, he took your glasses off and set them down.. 

Genuinely being gentle, which made you feel more safe to be vulnerable and vulgar. Taking his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him. He moaned softly as he collected your hair in his hand. Using the other to stroke your cheek and face. Eventually you start bobbing your head up and down. Looking up and watching his reaction, he huffs and grunts that pour out of his mouth. His eyebrows furrowed together and sweat started to bead on his forehead. Feeling him get harder and harder as things started getting more sloppy. His hands were getting rougher, both of them now laced in your hair. Helping fuck your head down on his shaft faster. Cursing and moaning, starting to buck his hips. Making you gag around and spit around his cock. He pulls you by the hair off him with a loud pop sound. Grabbing himself to smack and rub his tip against your lips as he tips over the edge. Covering your mouth and chin with his cum. 

Expecting him to be done but being taken off guard when he grabs your jaw. Bringing you to his level and smashes his lips against yours. Moaning into the kiss, being taken completely by surprise from how brazen he was being. He pulls away, a mix of saliva and his cum dripping down both your mouths. Standing up, he grabs your waist and lifts you on the desk. Sitting back down and spreading your legs, using his fingers to massage your clit. Moving down and eventually pushing a finger inside you. Bringing his lips down and starting to eat you out. Flicking his tongue, moaning as he felt you tighten around his fingers. Increasing the speed of both his hands and mouth. Stroking himself off, seeing you in so much pleasure was making his cock feel touch starved. Reaching your hands down and pulling and yanking. His hair was sweaty and you could feel him breathing hard against your core. 

You tried holding back your orgasm as long as possible, wanting to enjoy the pleasure before becoming overly sensitive. He pushes a third finger which makes you fall  over the edge. Feeling the walls of your cunt spasm and tighten makes him cum for a second time. Standing from his chair, rubbing his tip against your clit while continuing to finger you. Making eye contact as his warm cum covers your lower stomach. Resting your foreheads together, trying to catch your breath. He almost dozed off but eventually realized it was getting late. You were passed out, not wanting to wake you up, he carries you to the bed. Grabbing a towel and wiping you down. He didn’t want to go through your clothes, so he slipped his tee-shirt over you. Walking out in his tanktop, Kirishima gave him a side eye as he left your room.

[torscrawls]

A Ghost by Any Other Name

Danny tries to discreetly combat the ghosts suddenly showing up in Gotham without anyone finding out his secret, find out exactly why the ghosts have decided to follow him like lost ducklings after his narrow escape from his hometown, keep under the radar of both the Bats and his parents, not melt any more than he already has, and not worry his new and innocent friend Tim. Who knew that running away from home would be this stressful?

Wordcount: 1,620

Chapter 1/10

Can be read on AO3!

This fic has art from the wonderful and talented Luca!

---

Tim was just exiting his favorite coffee-shop when he was suddenly tackled by a shouting woman. “My baby! There you are!”

He watched his innocent cup of quintuple-shot espresso sail through the air and splatter across the sidewalk at the same time as he registered her muscular arms and the clear press of several weapons strapped to her body. Not a normal civilian then.

Right. Priorities.

The woman kept her strangle-hold on him as she continued, “Thank goodness you finally managed to get away from that terrible ghost!”

Tim twisted to get his attacker off him. Then he noticed that he wasn’t held in any of the multitude of restraining holds that he had been trained to escape. No, it was something a lot stranger than that. It was a hug.

“I think you have the wrong person,” he managed to get out as he tried to ease her off him, finally registering her earlier words and mentally readjusting the scenario towards a case of misunderstanding rather than an attack. Hopefully. It wouldn’t be the first time a villain took a roundabout way of getting to him, even if he had to say a hug was quite a nice way of going about it.

And that was the moment he noticed the frankly ridiculously big man bounding towards them with a wide smile and tears streaming down his face. He wasn’t slowing down. Oh shit.

He patted the woman on the back to get her attention since she seemed completely unaware of their impending doom. “Um…”

She only squeezed him harder and said, “God! It’s been so long! We were so worried!”

Tim’s bad feeling turned into dread. “… We?”

Then the man slammed into both of them with a wail of, “Danno!” 

The air rushed out of Tim as he was squashed between the two strangers. He might have been robbed of his morning coffee but he couldn’t deny that he was wide awake by now. Cass would be proud, and laugh her ass off. Tim vowed to never let her know about this.

After what felt like an eternity and what was surely a few cracked ribs, the woman disentangled herself from the hug with practiced ease that would put Catwoman to shame. She somehow managed to get the man to let Tim go and after a few seconds of struggling to breathe, Tim managed to wheeze out, “What's a Danno?!”

Then he was staring down the barrel of a gun. He tried to quell his instinct to kick it out of the woman’s hands, but it was the middle of the morning rush, and they were standing on a fairly well trafficked sidewalk, where even if people were smart enough to give the gun-wielding-maniacs—ergo, possible villains—a wide berth, it didn't mean they weren't staring.

Tim slowly raised his hands in a disarming gesture as he thought of a way to get out of this. So far they hadn’t made any demands. They also hadn’t harmed him (except his coffee and his wounded pride). Tim just wished he knew what this was about. So far he had been hugged twice, then had a gun aimed at his face. A gun that glowed green, emitted a worryingly high-pitched whine, and was very clearly home-made. Wonderful.

As Tim looked between the woman and the man he noted how both of their expressions had gone from relief and love to cold and hateful in the blink of an eye. He tensed, ready to disarm her, no matter the people around them. He refused to get himself shot before lunch.

The woman’s hands were steady—even though Tim noted that one of her hands were wrapped in bandages, and how both she and the man looked like they hadn’t slept in days—and her voice was flat as she said, “Phantom might still be overshadowing him.”

Tim frowned as both of them looked intensely into his eyes and after a few tense seconds the woman gave a satisfied nod. “The ghost is gone. You're safe now.”

She lowered the gun but Tim’s frown only deepened. “Ghost? What ghost?” 

The man and woman exchanged looks which only served to confuse him even more. 

“Honey,” the woman said in a soft voice, holstering her gun before placing a hand on Tim’s arm. He shook her off. “Honey, you were kidnapped by Phantom. It overshadowed you. You’ve been missing for a long time! That's probably why you can't remember anything.”

The man nodded along. “We’ve followed you to several cities. You must be exhausted!”

They seemed genuinely distraught by what they were saying but that didn't change the fact that they were absolutely insane.

Tim shook his head. “Look, you’re clearly confused. I’m not—”

He didn’t get to finish before the big man patted Tim on the shoulder with enough force to make him stumble. “Come on, now. It’s time to go home!”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Tim bit out, his patience running out. He was almost certainly late to his meeting by now, he didn’t have his coffee, and these two seemed allergic to making any kind of sense. “Who the fuck even are you?”

“Language young man!” The woman with the gun admonished him at the same time as the hulking man shook his head with a disapproving, “Is that any way to address your folks?” 

“My what?!”

These people were absolutely crazy. He already had one unstable parent which was more than enough, thank you very much. He had to get away from them. He took a few steps backwards. The big man stepped with him.

“Son. We know you must be scared, but—” 

“Why would you think I'm your son?!” And what kind of parents would be so ready to pull a gun on their child?

The man slammed a meaty fist into his other hand. “Is this something Phantom put you up to? Oh, when I get my hands on that ghost I’ll—”

The woman grabbed Tim’s arm in a startlingly strong grip. “Are you sure you’re okay, honey? Did that pesky ghost mess with your head?”

“I’m not your son!” Tim exclaimed with increasing desperation. He slapped her hand away. “And stop touching me!”

At this she paused, wide eyes fixed on him, before they narrowed sharply.

The man’s eyes fixed on the side of his neck as he slowly said, “What happened to your scar…?”

The woman finally drew back from him. “Daniel would never hit—”

“Wait a minute…” the man said as he pointed an accusatory finger at Tim. “You're not Daniel!”

Tim groaned as he dragged a hand through his hair. “That's what I've been saying the whole time!”

“Oh!” The woman tilted her head with a calculating look in her eyes that made a shiver of discomfort crawl up Tim’s spine. “But you really do look similar. You both have dark hair and blue eyes.”

Tim waited for more attributes that he shared with this mysterious Daniel, but nothing else came. That was why they had mistaken him for their son? His hair and eye color? …Shouldn’t they be a bit more familiar with what their own son looked like?

The man rubbed at his shin. “Did we have another son?”

“Ha!” the woman laughed, “Of course not, honey. We wouldn’t forget that!”

Tim wasn’t so sure, but he didn’t want to risk starting another argument with these people. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and awkwardly said, “So, I have to get going. It was… interesting meeting you.”

“Yes! Right! We need to keep looking!” The man straightened up and then screamed at the sky, “Don’t worry, son! We’re coming for you!”

Tim winced, both at the volume and at tomorrow’s headlines which he could already see in his mind’s eye. ‘Wayne Enterprise’s young CEO Tim Wayne caught roughhousing in the streets’. His family would not let him live this down for weeks.

“So sorry for the inconvenience,” the woman said as she lowered goggles over her eyes and took out what looked like some sort of tracking device from somewhere on her jumpsuit. She didn’t sound sorry at all. She continued under her breath, “Phantom should still be in the city… We won't let it get away again.”

And Tim was fairly certain that they should be more focused on finding their apparently missing son than hunting down some ghost, but who was he to judge? And he really didn’t want to get involved in this situation any more than he already had.

The man didn’t even try to apologize as he, once again, slapped Tim on the shoulder with enough force to make him stagger. “It was nice meeting you, young man! And remember; the only good ghost is a dead one!”

“Aren’t all ghosts dead…?”

That made the man boom out a laugh loud enough to make Tim wince. “I like your humor! If you ever get into any trouble with the undead just give us a call!”

Tim didn’t even know their names, but didn’t have time to ask before the woman exclaimed something about a reading and they both took off down the street on a run.

Whoever their missing son was, Tim hoped he stayed far away from them.

His eyes landed on his spilled coffee and Tim heaved a sigh as he turned back towards the coffee-shop. He would have to call in late, but he refused to face any more of this day without caffeine. 

He had more important things to focus on than Bruce getting some competition in the adoption-department. Oh, well. He probably wouldn't see them again.

At least he could console himself with the fact that ghosts aren't real.

[blu3n]

By: @blu3n

Anon : blue hi 👋, could you make a short story where Jason and the reader argue?, at the birthday party, I want some angst and fluff at the end, I hope you understand kisses.

YES YES YES YES, THANK YOU!!! 🪼

edited.

Bad luck ๋ ࣭ ⭑ Jason todd x female reader

Synopsis: angst, cute at the end, this one is sad ๋ ࣭ ⭑ you and jason argue, I've never actually done one of those

— edit: @blu3n.

The rain fell heavily on Gotham, as if the city was mourning the return of a lost son. Jason Todd, now known as the Red Hood, walked through the dark streets, the echoes of his old life still echoing in his mind. He had been through so much; betrayal, pain, and a violent rebirth at the hands of the Joker.

The last few months have been tough, Penguin giving him trouble, malice, Cat Woman and the Batfamily on his tail all the time. Bandits and missions stressing him out.

His weapons failing in the middle of combat, it seemed like bad luck was with him in those last few days. To make the headache worse, his 4-year anniversary was coming up.

He was never one to celebrate or care about stupid holidays, birthdays or important dates, but if it was important to you, he celebrated. But fuck. Today you were annoying.

Exactly the day he barely managed to capture the Riddler. It felt like they had thrown years of bad luck at him, he didn't believe that shit, but now he was starting to think so.

He was working out, lifting arm weights (sorry, I don't know what it's called) while training his biceps, his mind was racing with the events of the day, Dick pissing him off for being harsh with one of the evil henchmen, leaving the guy almost paraplegic.

focused in his mind, he didn't hear your footsteps, when you approached him, you could tell he was focused, but you didn't seem to notice how angry he looked.

"What do you think? Pink or red?" Her cheerful voice made him feel bad for being grumpy for the party he had tonight. Looking at you and your dresses, he sighs, barely holding back a groan of annoyance when he sees you flaunting the dresses once again, "whatever, fuck" coming out harsher than he intended. He knew it wasn't his fault that everything was going wrong, but he couldn't help but feel angry.

"Oh yeah..." His voice sounded so broken and so short, but you respected him. You knew he did that sometimes, but not on purpose. "I'm gonna...go get changed." All he heard was a low growl before he walked out of the training bag leaving you alone.

It wasn't because he wanted to, sometimes Jason knew he could be an asshole but everything seemed to be going wrong, he didn't want to take it out on you but you didn't seem to see the clear signs that he didn't want to be around.

everything gets worse at the party, the attention was focused on you two all jason wanted least was for the attention to be on him that night just when he wanted to simply disappear and stay at home, but he stayed, he stayed for you, it was important to you so that means he should be there, right?

He was trying, God he swears he was but that, those people were suffocating him. He needed to go out for a smoke.

Once outside, it was cold, the cigarette smoke swayed and disappeared in the wind... everything seemed calmer and more peaceful on this side.

"Jason?" Your voice echoes behind him, making him turn and look at you, "Ah... aren't you coming back?" All you wanted was for him to stay with you that night, to stay just a little while to celebrate your important day. in his mind it was being an incredible night

"If I want to go, I will, stop bothering my ass," he says in a thick, firm voice, already close to exploding if you push him any further.

"Excuse me? Look at the way you talk to me, Jason, I just want to celebrate our night together as a couple-"

"CAN'T YOU REALIZE I DON'T WANT TO CELEBRATE THIS SHIT!?" Jason was never one to yell at you even if he had reason to do so he would never do so, but today he yelled which scared you just a little bit , he didn't mean to do that.. His anger bubbled, his chest heaved, he wished he hadn't done that.

"ah..." even though you try to say something your voice betrays you leaving only silence bad to fall into this situation.

Jason, when he finally regained his senses, was silent, he took out his anger on the one person he wished he hadn't done it to. "....Y/n" came out as broken as he wanted it to in desperation he said "Y/N, please wait, I- I didn't mean to

Jason in turn was in panic, would you leave him? were you mad? god, did he lose you? no after 4 years would you leave him for this? no god please don't do this to him.

Jason, you in the distance, almost felt his chest stop beating, he didn't want to do this, "I'm sorry", he covered his face with his hand to keep from letting out angry tears, everything was going wrong. Jason saw her reaction and almost felt his chest stop beating, he didn't want to do this, "I'm sorry" he covers his face with his hand to keep from letting out angry tears, everything was going wrong. "Don't walk away from me" he says with a broken voice, even knowing that you weren't there, he would give you some time, but not so much, for you to see how bad he was (in your mind). his mind).

You, in turn, were sitting at one of the tables in the distance, watching everyone laughing and smiling, even though it was your day... maybe you really were annoying to the point of pressuring Jason... maybe you weren't good for him? What were you thinking? He loves you... doesn't he?.

"Y/n-" the tone of his voice made you look where it came from, seeing Jason standing in front of you, his eyes red and his brow furrowed. "babe?"

"Shhh, "It's okay" you say looking at him wiping your eyes from the tear stains as you hear him say that he didn't mean to say what he said, and you had already forgiven him after all it wasn't his fault.

"...i love you, i love you, i love you" he says softly just for you to hear, directing your face into the curve of his neck.

That brought a genuine smile out of you, you quickly pull him up, hugging him fully before whispering in his ear, "I love you too, congratulations to us"

both of their chests pressed against each other as their heartbeats beat together.

—

THANKS FOR ASKING!!!

🪼 - I love writing about him

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

Let's play a little game, shall we? ("Professional Advice for the Disabled" edition)

Context:

Back in September, 2012, I came upon an online pamphlet titled "Living With C.P." from The Ontario Foundation for Cerebral Palsy.

And in the middle of the pamphlet was a paragraph that was just two (moderately long) sentences.

The Game:

It's a one-question multiple choice quiz. I'll give you the first sentence, and you pick the sentence that you think comes next. Because it's a long sentence, and I'm not sure it'll fit in Tumblr's poll fields, I'll write each choice out in full, marked "1," "2," "3," "4," and "5," and paraphrase in the poll itself. Okay?

The First Sentence:

It can be frustrating for adults to deal with a health care system that appears to have little knowledge or interest regarding the changing needs of aging with a disability.

What Comes Next?

A healthy, well-balanced, diet, combined with as much exercise as you can manage, and a regular sleep routine, is beneficial to your mental and physical well-being.

A trusted friend or family member, who knows you and your symptoms, can help explain your situation to your healthcare provider.

Maintaining a strong social network, especially among your fellow patients, can help reduce stress, and combat feelings of loneliness.

A positive attitude makes a big difference, and developing relaxation techniques and coping skills can have a beneficial effect on mental and physical health.

A diary of your daily routine, especially keeping track of your changing abilities, can be a useful tool for you and your healthcare provider.

Let's see if we can match with with Service Professionals (I'll reveal the actual answer at the end of the week, once the poll closes).

If you vote, please reblog, to get this outside my private corner.

[winterarmyy]

Must Be Fate

Prequel to And You're Mine. This is the story of how Y/N first met her cute, chubby alpha!bucky.

Summary: Y/N has been crossing paths with this particularly sweet alpha all day long; this must be fate right?

Navigation: Prequel || Main Story I || Main Story II || Main Story III

Pairing: chubby alpha!bucky x omega!female!reader

Words: 4.2k++

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics. fluffy stuff. sort of fated mate themed because... love at first scent(?). instant love. the reader was just smitten without even knowing bucky's name, alpine making her appearance, 99.9% reader's pov because she's the one who fell in love and remembers him. Dialogue? almost little to none (I AM SO SORRY FOR THAT). And I little shout out to one of my favourite book.

P/S: Been busy these few days, i just graduated my bachelor's degree, then went through the whole job hunting process and somehow managed to land an offer (in another state btw), then went on a stressful house hunting journey and managed to get decent place. Yknow, all those "adulting" stuff (that i am not ready to face). But yeah, here's a little something from my wip that I managed to finish. Happy reading! 🤍

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N herself might not notice it, but she had been stealing glances through the pretense of the book she was supposed to be reading for quite some time now. Not that she wanted to be distracted anyway; she was rather enjoying her current read, especially the banter between main characters, Liesel and Rudy.

Yet for some reason, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the particular alpha sitting on the park bench, right across from her.

It seemed that the man was also distracted with his own personal dilemma as his thoughts were lost within the arrangement of peonies in his hand. There was this deep frown decorating his features yet his eyes translates a different type of emotion. More gloomy, more somber. And Y/N knew exactly why.

She never meant to follow Bucky around, in fact, she didn’t. It just happened that his paths were fated to intertwined with hers; and it all started that afternoon.

The bus was packed full, albeit it was Saturday, but thankfully she managed to find herself a seat.

Since Y/N was getting closer to her heat, in about a week or so, and her scent blockers were nearly out. She just got back from a nearby clinic to restock and now she had a full day for herself.

The thing about her pre-heat condition is that she was fortunate to not experience the normally unpleasant symptoms like any omega would; she doesn't get irritated easily and she didn't have to go through those random aches and fever.

However, she had a particular symptom that differs from the other omega; which involve the irregular increase of her scent.

During pre-heat and all throughout the actual heat, Y/N’s scent tripled the amount of a normal omega in heat. And since, she refused to take suppressants, the doctor prescribed her with a high dosage of scent blockers instead; to mask her scent completely during pre-heat.

Besides her own scent thickens and heighten, her sense of smell was also affected. It will become so senstive that she can smell everything and everyone, all at the same time.

Unfortunately for her, there weren’t any medication to combat that issue and the only solution she could do was wearing a mask to lessen affect of other people’s scents. But of course, the mask can only do so much especially when she was in a tight confinement of a bus with – what feels like – 2000 people crammed into it.

Too many potent scents coming from every direction, that her head spun into nausea.

Sure, she might be a little bit exaggerating about the amount of people in the bus, but it felt awfully like it when the bus stopped in every bus stop in its route; she can physically feel the inertia of the force pushing her to lean forward.

Thank god, she was sitting down; she managed to hold on the seat in front of her for support. Often times she would whisper her apologies to the man sitting in front for the sudden push of her hand, And most times he only nodded without looking back.

But at one of those stops, unfortunately, the teenager standing next to her bumped his head right onto the metal pole. Poor thing quickly scurried out of the bus in pain and embarrassment.

The density of people became lesser at that stop, but not enough to empty any seat in the bus. Though it worked well for her that most of the strong scents were fading into a much more bearable capacity for her to endure.

While streams of people exited the bus, only one came aboard; a sweet old lady. The moment Y/N saw her, she was already thinking of giving up her seat, but the man sitting in front of her beat her to it as he swiftly stood on his feet and help the old lady to his seat.

The old lady gushed and thanked the man, dearly patted his cheeks like any grandmother would do to their grandchildren.

And in that brief moment of time, when he moved, Y/N picked up a particularly sweet scent trailing behind him and when he came back, it hits her like a train. At first, she can sense some sort of floral; roses and jasmine but with time the smoky sandalwood and spicy cinnamon seeped through. The combination of sweet and woody notes made such a warm and captivating scent.

She never knew an alpha can smell this good.

Her eyes fluttered close as the alluring scent flooded her brain, letting his scent creates the dreamy images of his fingers lacing between hers as they walk in the rain, or him cuddling her in the heat of the fireplace during the winter, or his body trapping her by the back as she takes his huge delicious kno—whoa.

That was way too vivid and a tad too far.

She was so enthralled by his scent that she forgot to even look at the man’s face. And a mistake it was for her to take a peek because he is absolutely gorgeous. The brown locks on his head was neat and clean that she just wanted to make a mess out of it. His eyes were pretty in steel-blue and his plush lips was simply a sin to look at.

Though some would argue about the lack of shape in his jawline, the same one that was hidden between his chin; she didn’t care at all, rather she was particularly fond of the softness on his chubby cheeks. Shaved so clean and smooth that she couldn't find a single razor cut on his skin.

They look so cute and kissable. She want to kiss his cheeks, his lips, and every part of his ridiculously handsome face. She wanted kiss him so badly.

And those intrusive thoughts made her almost missed her stop.

Y/N panicked when she scurried out of the bus that she didn't even thought to ask him for his name or number; anything.

But then again, she wasn't the type to be so bold in the first place; she knew wouldn't have the courage to even speak a word to him. His scent alone almost pushed her into a frenzy, so imagine if he would look at her with those beautiful eyes of his, smile at her, talk to her?

She'd simply die. She was sure of it.

So, with regrets Y/N walked towards the familiar road right into the local bookstore that she often visits. Thinking that this encounter would probably be forgotten by the end of the day.

Then she spent hours in that shop trying to find the perfect book to put her out of the miserable reading slump she was currently in. While her eyes skim over the covers of the book in display, in the back of her head, Y/N was almost certain of how unlikely it was for her to see the alpha ever again.

Couple of turns later, her footsteps trailed back to the space in between the bookshelves next to the huge glass window of the store. Still glancing absentmindedly at the book covers particular on the historical fiction isle. She halted when she saw it, the book that people had been recommending to her, 'The Book Thief'.

After reading the summary behind the book, she felt drawn to it almost instantly. Thinking that maybe this would be the book that will replenish her interest of reading back to its utmost glory.

But when she lifted her head up, she froze yet again. This time, not because the sight of a book. But it was the silhouette of the alpha she saw in the bus. Instinctively, her feet step closer to the glass window, to have a better look at the man across the road.

The alpha had just exited the flower shop opposite from where she was standing, with a gorgeous bouquet of peonies in his hands. Now that she looked closely, his hands were covered with black leather gloves; it intrigued her and she wondered about the story behind it.

Y/N wasn't that dense; she could see it right away from the way he dressed, to the choice of gift he went for. She knew instantly that the alpha was probably going out on a date.

And that stung her a little bit. How nice it must be to be his date, his girl, his omega.

Funny of her to think so when she never really talked to the guy. Let alone know him well enough to decided whether he's a good alpha or not. But something about him felt right to her.

But, sometimes it'll be like that. Falling in love so strongly, so instantly. And there's nothing wrong with it, as long as you know how to protect yourself; your body, your heart.

When her gaze moved upwards to his face; and her heart almost escaped her body. It was so quick, so faint. But, she saw his smile. It wasn't for her but it was so pretty. Y/N felt like a bow just struck her chest and the cupid was trying to pull it back out.

She knew full well how she probably need to move on from this delusional crush of hers yet her eyes still longingly lingered at his moving figure, walking farther away from her sight.

When she thought that would be the last time she saw him, she was utterly wrong. Now, it felt like devilish cupid was toying with her heart as their path crossed yet again, this time at a nearby cafe.

She didn't notice him at first, at least until she placed her orders and saw him sitting alone at the far corner of the cafe. He seemed to be waiting for his date; the flowers laid perfectly on the seat next to him.

In contrast of the few looks of his that she had witness before, the alpha's demeanour indicates anxiousness.

His heel keeps tapping the floor, causing his knees to jump up and down, as he fiddled with his phone. Occasionally, he would look at the time and put it down. Just to do the same thing over again only seconds later.

And that made her wondered if this was his first date with whomever the person he was supposed to be seeing. She knew those feelings all too well. It was only canon that he felt the jitters on his first date, she'd been there too.

When her drink was served, Y/N decided to stay awhile longer. She didn't know what she was expecting from this but she wanted to make sure he was okay. Or maybe she just wanted to see who was the lucky girl. So she found herself a seat, a little bit discrete yet enough to see him from where she sat.

Pulling out her new purchase, she decided to pass the time with some light reading, maybe getting herself comfortable with the world building in the book and get to know the main characters in the process. In between those moments, Y/N would peek above the book, particularly at the sight of that beautiful stranger from across the room.

Pages upon pages she drowned herself to the words of the author that she didn't notice how time flies passing the half an hour mark; and the cafe started to get more crowded and rowdier. Certainly, the amount of potent scents had were floating around her were slowly getting to her.

Y/N knew if she stayed a longer, she'd surely throw up whatever drink she just had. So, she decided to leave. But not before glancing at the alpha – who was still waiting for his date – for one last time, then she pulled the door open and walked away.

Certainly, that was supposed to be the last time she see him right? Nope. The universe proved her wrong when the man found a seat on the bench opposite her. With the same bouquet of flowers in his hands.

And at this point, she thought that this must be fate. There's no other explanation than this.

When she lowered her book again, she saw a white feline rubbing its head on Bucky's legs. It was too far to hear its voice but considering the amount of time its mouth open, Y/N figured it was meowing at him.

Probably to get his attention, or just wanted to comfort the alpha because just from the look of it, she knew he was stood up by his date. And Y/N was unexpectedly mad about it; maybe it was from personal experience or maybe it was just because she couldn't accept the fact that this fine, gorgeous, sweet alpha was being stood up.

Y/N watched how Bucky put away the flowers and scooped the cat onto his lap. He squinted his eyes at the ball of fur and spoke something. She hadn't had a clue what he said but it was probably along the lines, "Are you lost, little one?" He scratched its chin and neck while trying to see if it has a collar.

After so long of seeing that deep grumpy-looking frown on his face, Bucky finally graced her with another smile when the cat tried to rub its nose on his cheeks. Its whiskers tickled his nose and had trigger a laugh out of him.

God, Y/N had never been so desperate to be a cat in her life. She wanted to be that cat; sitting on his lap like she owns that place, making him smile and laugh like that. She wanted nothing more that to do so; to please him in a way that would make her own heart full.

Her daydream was cut short though, when a heavy scent of cigarettes and rum invaded her space. In fact it was so thick and potent, but considering the lanky alpha was sitting right next to her it was inevitable.

Y/N didn't want to be rude; because if she just walk away to find a different spot to sit at, then it would seem rude to the man. Her heighten sense of smell was to be blamed, not the man who was simply sitting next to her, enjoying the park as much as everybody else does.

So, she stayed.

But in those few minutes that she stayed, she might have re-adjust her mask a few times, as if it would help to lessen the scent. But, she did it anyway. And that was all she did. Yet somehow, it managed to rub the alpha in a wrong way.

"Ya got a problem with my scent, beta?" He snarled, clearly he was drunk. And a drunk alpha in the middle of the day was never a good sign.

Though she was relieved to know that the scent blockers worked just fine. Otherwise, she might push the alpha into a rut if he got even a single whiff of her scent.

The alpha growled as she put some space between them instead of answering his question. "Are you even listening to me?! Answer me, you dumb bitch!" His aggressiveness went from zero to hundred real quick when he yanked her by the hand, pulling her closer towards him.

Y/N's book fell from the force of his strength and she yelped in pain and fear. Though she usually know how to put up a brave face and fight back, but the sudden change of his action and emotion didn't gave her time to prepare her; mentally, physically.

With her omega tendencies on default, her body coward to his force and her voice tremble, "L-let me go!" She tried to twist her hand to escape but his grasp only grew stronger.

He pulled her to stand up, "You think a beta like you can look down on me? You and that omega are the same! Bunch of good for thing bitches. Gonna teach you a good lesson for disrespecting an alpha like me!" He roared with words of his drunken concerns, truth of his wounded ego.

Her blood pumped faster through her veins and her breaths increases behind her mask. When she saw his hand rose, Y/N shut her eyes, whimpering in fear as she turned her head away, waiting for the pain strike her but it never happened.

It between those short heavy breaths, she caught a whiff of Bucky's scent. And surely, it gave her the comfort she needed to calm down, guiding her to open her eyes and witness her saviour stopping the unhinged alpha's strike.

Then what happend next was so fast; the way Bucky forced him to release her, and the way the left of his gloved hand wrapped around the alpha's neck, choking the air out of his wind pipe.

Bucky growled something in the alpha's ear, but Y/N couldn't hear it over her own beating heart. She didn't need to, not when the pale look of the man's face says it all. As soon as Bucky loosen his grip, the other alpha stumbled backwards and made a run for his life.

That does tend to happened when Bucky was literally threatened to tear his limbs apart if he touch the woman ever again.

When the panic didn't die like Y/N hoped for, Bucky quickly came to her side; respectfully close while avoiding any sort of skinship. He whispered words of comfort and sweet nothings, "It's okay, you're okay. You're safe now."

His voice was like magic, especially when it managed to calm her so easily. Y/N can feel herself melting, like a marshmallow hovering over the flames; like an ice cream under the summer sun. She took a deep breath of his sweet scent and exhaled a long sigh, "Thank you. Thank you for that." she said.

Bucky bent down to pick up her book and patted the dust off, "It's no big deal, here." He handed the book. She gladly took it from his hand, gripping it tight to her chest.

Her head was still fuzzy from the rush of adrenaline, she couldn't think of a single coherent thought other than gratitude towards her saviour, "Yeah, thank you." She probably didn't even notice that she was talking to the alpha she was crushing on the whole day.

Looking at her shaken state, Bucky was worried of her, "Are you going to be okay?" He asked.

Y/N's mind didn't process his question fast enough to for a confident reply to form, "Huh? Yeah, of course. I'll be fine. Couple of deep breaths should do the trick."

"Are you sure?" Bucky was sceptical but she quickly assured him, "Absolutely!"

He nodded slowly as if she failed to convince him, yet he didn't want to push her too much, "If you say so..."

She let out a another long sigh and said, "Thank you again, really. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Bucky simply chuckled at her words, "You know, you've said 'thank you' way too many times now, doll. Plus, it is an utmost honor of an alpha to save a damsel in distress." He jest.

Which was quickly agreed by a mewl coming from his chest, "Meow!" Y/N didn't even notice the white cat nestling comfortably in his leather jacket, albeit it was zipped up until only its' head peeking out of the dark fabric.

"See? She agrees." Bucky shrugged as if the cat's opinion was the only valid opinion in this situation.

"I did say it a lot, did I?" Y/N cooed as she pet the cat on its' head, smiling at the softness of its' fur against her skin before looking back at the blue eyes of his, "Sorry." She instinctively apologized. 

Bucky shook his head and reminded her, "Don't be."

That was when Bucky's phone rang, a call from Steve, "Hey, you're here? Where are you? Oh there. Yeah, I can see you, punk. You don't need wave at me like that. Yeah, I'll be right there. Please don't let Sam join you. God stop that is fucking embarrassing." He muttered as he looked over how his friends were literally halfway out of the car window, waving at him like a bunch of kids.

Bucky snuck his phone back into his pocket and said, "I'd offer you a ride but the car's full with dumbasses and I wouldn't recommend a sweet thing like you to associate with them in any way."

He managed to pull a short laugh out of her, "Oh, no need to do so. I live close by. Don't need to worry about me just..." her trails stopped mid way.

Only for Bucky to continue with a question, "...Just??"

"Do you mind giving those to me?" Y/N pointed at the flowers in his hand. She knew he was contemplating to throw it away because he had been glancing at the trash way too many times at the first couple of minutes when he sat on that bench across from her.

Y/N noticed how his expression changed, he looked confused but didn't frown upon the idea. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation as she waited patiently for his respond. But he just continued to stare at her, almost blankly but not quite lost. It was as if he was mesmerized by something.

The silence was getting louder than the crowds surrounding them so she decided to explain, "You see, I've never received flowers from anybody before. So, I'm curious how it feels like to receive one." She tried to come up with excuses, though she was still telling the truth. No one she dated had ever gave her flower before, probably deeming it as old-fashioned.

But, she loves those old fashioned gesture the most.

Y/N saw how he hesitated when he stared at the bouquet, his face getting tense by the seconds. She recognize that expression, she knew right away he was holding back his feelings.

But it quickly shifted into a gentle smile, "Pretty flowers for the pretty lady." He whispered under his breath. Bucky didn't waste his time hesitating this time and handed the bouquet to her.

Though she was asking for it but she didn't expect him to really give it to her. This was the first time she ever got flowers from a man. An alpha that she was pretty much head over heels for nonetheless.

Letting her emotions unfiltered, "Thank you!" she squealed as she reach out her hand. As she brought the bouquet closer to her face, she pulled down her mask, inhaling the sweet fragrant of the soft pastel peonies.

Even if her lower face hidden behind the flowers, Bucky swore he saw a burst of sparkles beamed from her upon receiving those flowers. It fascinated him because he never knew that someone could be this happy just from getting such small gift, from a complete stranger he might add.

For a second there, he thought that he would've give her a whole garden of flowers just to see her shine like that again. It felt so good and somehow fulfilling to see her happy like this.

Y/N unknowingly smiled as she let herself lost in the intoxicating scent. And when her eyes fluttered open, a deep chuckle distracted her from the trance. Looking up, as he eyes peeking through the blooming flowers, she finally saw that endearing smile that she wanted to see.

But that wonderful fleeting moment didn't last long as she was hoping for when she heard a group of man shouting for the alpha, "Hey, loverboy! We have a birthday party to get to. Natasha would be pissed if we're late. Again!"

As Bucky shouted back his own sassy counter, Y/N's head was filled with thoughts of kissing him. She didn't particularly know why but she had the need to do it.

Why would she ever do this to a man – who probably currently thinking that she was a creep – that she barely knew?

Even with those unconscious questions, she found her body moved on its own.

When he turned around, Y/N was already on her tip toe, her face was so close to his, while her hand softly cupped his chubby cheeks. She pressed a tender kiss on one of the side soft sides and prayed to God that he couldn't hear how her heart was desprete to escape the confinement of her ribcage.

Y/N placed her mask back before pulling away, only to preen at how she managed to stun him into a red mess of shock, "Thank you for saving me, alpha." Her eyes curved as a sign of a smile before she turn around, almost running away.

She certainly didn't give him a chance to at least know her name, let alone get to know her.

Midway through her path, Y/N abruptly stopped and turned around, her eyes met his curious ones and her heart fluttered, "Thank you for the flowers! I love them!" she shouted with a wide smile on her lips and brightest expression of her face, even if it was blocked by the mask.

Though Bucky could probably translate her eagerness and sincerity from how animatedly joyful she was waving at him. He smiled as he watched the girl ran away with her small steps, almost resembling a hopping bunny.

As Y/N skipped her way home, her lips aches for more of the alpha's softness, her heart yearned for his comforting presense and her glands certainly burned for his mark. And even though she went home not knowing his name, or his contact number. She believed that if he was truly her fated mate, then they will surely meet again someday.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for loving this couple as much as I do, guys. I noticed a lot of you have been requesting chubby alpha!bucky ever since I first published the first one. So I hope you enjoyed this one. More to come from them. But meanwhile, drop your thoughts?

[lovecoree]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐊 — 𝐉𝐉𝐊

synopsis: bf!jungkook x black gf!reader

synopsis: going to jungkook’s tattoo shop after work is a daily routine that you love, especially when you can show off your cute pink outfits to him all the time!

warning: fluff, kissing (quick peck on the lips), reader is black coded, reader uses she/her prns, jungkook loves reader’s smile, let me know if there’s more!

a/n: I was going to post this on Jk’s bday, but I was too busy to finish :(

The doorbell chimed as you entered jungkook’s shop, heels clicking on the hardware floor as you walked further into the establishment. Cold air conditioner on to prevent any type of heat, all black furniture and dim lights just the way jungkook likes it.

Walking further into the back of the shop, you could hear the faint sounds of his tattoo gun. Knocking before entering, jungkook didn’t need to look up, hearing your heels click with every slow step was just enough for him to know it was you. “Hi baby.” Jungkook spoke voice coming out in a small whisper yet you still heard him smiling from ear to ear as you watched him focus on his clients tattoos that was on his forearm.

“Hi babe.” Was all you said taking a seat in the corner of the room where his desk was. Drawings, pencil shavings and pencils scattered his desk. Jungkook was a amazing drawer, he was always excited to create pieces for his clients that wanted a surprise tattoo, letting his creative mind run wild. You smiled seeing the pink drawing notebook you gifted him on his birthday opened on his desk with drawings on the pages.

Jungkook loved it, it stood out from his already filled up drawing notebooks that were black or a dark grey. He loved it to the point that he carried it everywhere he goes instead of leaving it in the shop on his shelf where the others are. He practically scolded anyone that teased him for having it. “You laughing?” Hard glare set on his face as the person stops their laughter.

“How was your day?” Bringing you out of your thoughts, you looked up at jungkook to see him still working. “Hmm it was ok, my co-worker kept stressing me out ‘bout the way I did things saying ‘it’s common sense to do it this way’ ” you rolled your eyes remembering how much she kept nagging you at the cafe, even while you were taking a customer. It was embarrassing yet you put on a smile keeping a professional tone as you fixed your “mistake.”

“That sucks..I’d hate to come up there and cause problems.” Jungkook smiled turning to look at you for a split second just to see you laughing along with him. The smile that always manages to melt his heart. “As much as I love that, I still need my job.” Jungkook nodded his head understanding, wiping his design with green soap to get rid of extra ink. Straightening his back you could here the groan leaving his lips as he stretched a little.

Both him and his client stood up after the long session. Walking to the front of the shop for jungkook’s client to pay. You could here a faint ‘have a good day’ before heavy footsteps could be heard from jungkook’s chunky black combat boots.

you stood up from his desk as he entered the room, the smile gracing his face as he took in your outfit. “You look amazing, pretty.” Jungkook mumbled, pulling you closer by the waist. Planting a kiss on your lips causing your lip gloss to smudge on his lips. You smiled as you rubbed the access off with your thumb, pink acrylic grazing his top lip slightly in the process.

“If you keep smiling like that, my next customer is going to be hearing things.” Raising his pierced eyebrow, he smirked seeing you giggle. You knew the effect you had on him and you tease him every time.

your pink platform heels clicked against the floor as you moved away from jungkook, watching your every move as you leaned against his desk. “What’s stopping you?”

Jungkook gave you a ‘say less’ look before jogging towards the front door of his shop flipping his sign, not regretting his decisions for his clients that has been book for today.

Jungkook’s tattoo shop: closed

[phyx-m]

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 1: A Walk In The Forest With The Devil

Content warning: dubious consent (Sukuna touching reader. This chapter is quite stressful, please read with care), gore, implied cannibalism, panic attack, description of a dead body

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

Heir - Public Memory Feral Love - Chelsea Wolfe

* * * * *

Prologue | Chapter 2

* * * * *

The day of your wedding felt uncomfortably hot. Everything stuck with humidity, creating a hellish, suffocating atmosphere.

Considering the situation you faced, it fits perfectly. 

Fidgeting with your silk gloves, you eye yourself in the mirror, clothed in the most ridiculous kimono you've ever seen. Your sister, a calming presence behind you, has spent hours meticulously assisting with your wedding preparations.

You notice she has been babbling on about something; however, a persistent buzzing in your ears distracts you, rendering her words unintelligible. You watch her lips move rapidly, hands gesturing excessively, yet you hear nothing. She is like a vibrant river, flowing and gushing with life, while you feel like a dead animal—rotting on the ground, forgotten.

A bead of sweat threatens to escape from your hairline, and you worry it will ruin your sister's efforts. Although you don't particularly care, she has been working on this for quite some time.

You blink twice, staring at your gloved hands, wringing them as you gather your thoughts.

"Sorry, Yuna, what did you say?" you ask as you snap out of your daze.

Your sister briefly pouts before returning to secure the final piece of your garment. She seems to believe this is a genuine wedding, oblivious that her safety hinges on your compliance. All she knows is that your father has arranged for you to marry Ryomen Sukuna, aiming to secure peace between your clans, which is a lie.

"I said, if it's worth anything, you look beautiful right now," Yuna remarks, stepping back to admire you. She licks her thumb and smooths a few stubborn strands of hair that refuse to cooperate in the heat.

Beauty is the last thing on your mind. 

"Thank you. I feel lovely," you manage to say through gritted teeth, swallowing her compliment and forcing a smile. All you want is to reassure her until this is over.

Your sister smiles warmly and moves around you, ensuring every detail is perfect. You observe a slight furrow on her brow as she focuses on enhancing your beauty. In your mother's absence, she's taking on this role admirably, which breaks your heart. Thoughts of her bring a lump to your throat, so you turn your attention back to the task at hand.

You fill your mind with the plan to assassinate your future husband. Knowing it won't be simple.

The King of Curses is a powerful adversary, and you lack combat skills. Remembering your father's strict instruction to avoid publicly killing him so as not to dishonour the attending clans, you opt for seduction as your strategy. The plan is to make him vulnerable and catch him off guard. Perhaps you can end it all with some batting of your eyelashes, a few chaste touches, and a kiss or two.

"What do you think he will be like?" Yuna asks as she fusses with some gaudy ornament in your hair.

You pause to consider several possibilities: a psychopath, a cannibal, a fiend. Which description would comfort her more?

"I'm certain he will be the perfect gentleman," you reply flatly, making sure not to reveal anything as you observe your sister in the mirror's reflection. You notice her tongue poking out in concentration as she arranges your hair.

"Do you think he will be gentle, with all those hands and mouths of his?" she asks, blushing as she adjusts the hairpiece.

You freeze. Did she really have to bring that up now?

"You're asking me about that?" you give her a pointed glare.

You had never met Sukuna and had only heard stories of his unusual physical abnormalities. You understood her curiosity, but still...

She shrugs and laughs. The sound is light and airy, reflecting her carefree nature. 

“I was curious what you thought was all,” she casually remarks before continuing her task.

You won't experience being with him like that because he'll be dead, or at least you hope so. You've never seduced a man before, but you understand how men operate. They appear to desire anything that moves, and you know you'll look stunning today. How could he possibly resist?

Knock, knock, knock.

"Come in!" you and your sister say simultaneously. The harmony warms your heart.

Your father enters the room, and your mood instantly sours. You glare at him in the mirror before turning away as he approaches.

"My lovely girls!" He says with a smile that feels more cutting than warm, his arms outstretched. You avoid his gaze, nervously fidgeting with your hands again, tempted to pull your sister closer but restraining yourself.

"Father!" Yuna exclaims cheerfully, moving towards him and linking her arm through his. You want nothing more than to get up and shake some sense into her. "Doesn't she look beautiful?"

As they approach, your father scrutinizes you in the mirror while you return his glare. He examines every detail, clearly expecting you to look impeccable and behave respectfully to charm the monster.

Through your eyes, an unspoken conversation unfolds. You watch as he places a firm hand on your sister's waist and another on your shoulder. His fingers dig into you.

You flinch.

Don’t touch me.

You despise being touched, especially by your father, whose grip is always too tight, too forceful. And at this moment, the threat is unmistakable. You swallow the lump in your throat and resist the urge to pull away.

"Beautiful doesn't even begin to describe her. She's positively glowing like a dying star just waiting to burn out," he remarks with a hint of irony.

The smile you force in response is like bitter poison.

Meanwhile, your oblivious sister moves to the corner of the room to fetch something.

Your father leans in close to you as you face the mirror.

"Remember, if you dare to disappoint me, her body will be the punishment," he whispers ominously before straightening up. You maintain a composed expression as your sister returns with a stem of wisteria flowers.

She stands before you, delicately placing the fragile blooms in your hair to complete the look.

"There," she announces, stepping back next to your father to assess her handiwork. "You look perfect." You're almost tempted to appreciate your appearance, but really, what’s the point?

Knock, knock, knock.

"Come in!" Your sister calls out alone this time while you and your father exchange hostile glances.

The door opens, and standing there is Onishi, your father’s chief advisor—a man known for his vile reputation. Now that you and your sister are adults, his lecherous looks only became more pointed and invasive, causing your stomach to knot. You remembered all too well how he used to stare at you both as young girls with a shameless hunger that made your skin crawl.

“Lord Kasai, the wedding procession is ready to depart,” he informs your father. After a bow, he quickly leaves the room, briefly glancing at your sister on his way out.

Time to go.

Your sister squeals with excitement, making you wrinkle your nose. She can be so clueless sometimes.

"Well, my darlings, let's not keep Lord Sukuna waiting," your father says, pulling you both close under his arms. You resent this display of control he's asserting, and you lean away from the embrace. "I'm certain today will be unforgettable."

* * * * *

The Kasai clan compound, your home, was a three-day ride from where you had prepared today. By midday, everyone departs on horseback.

Your sister and father lead the procession. Behind them, you follow closely, flanked by several attendants who occasionally offer you means to cool yourself. A large contingent of clan members trail behind.

The road stretches southward, guiding your journey toward the shrine where the wedding celebrations would soon commence. It will also become your new home, which won’t be permanent in your mind.

Riding a horse in your elaborate multi-layer garment is challenging, especially compounded by the relentless sun that seems determined to wreak havoc on your appearance. You are certain your hair is unravelling, and your makeup is smudging down your face. Your sister will be upset when she sees you dismount.

As the procession moves deeper into the forest towards its destination, you can’t ignore your horse's peculiar behaviour. Its ears stand upright, constantly swivelling as if attentively listening to an unseen presence. A low whine emanates from its throat, and its tail twitches nervously. You can feel the tension in its muscles beneath you, as though it was on the verge of bolting away from whatever was unsettling it.

"Easy now, girl," you whisper soothingly, placing a calming hand on the horse's neck. Despite your attempts to quiet her, she exhales sharply through her nostrils, betraying her fear.

Lifting your head, you let your gaze sweep over the packed dirt road and the dense forest flanking it on both sides.

Nothing.

Then, suddenly, a murder of crows erupts from the treetops ahead, their harsh caws muted over the pounding of hooves. They scatter out of the forest, their black forms stark against the hazy sky.

People say animals can sense danger before it strikes, alert to the presence of a predator.

Your eyes dart to your sister and father leading the group.

"Father!" Your voice rings out with urgency.

"Quiet!" he snaps, the word sharp like a point.

Both of them immediately pull hard on their reins, bringing their horses to an abrupt halt. You tug on your own, urging your horse to stop. The rest of the group follows suit, halting in a rippling sequence behind you. Adjusting your position on the horse, you straighten up and scan the surroundings again, looking for any clue as to why you had suddenly stopped.

The sun seems to be almost burning now. Sweat rolls down your back, soaking your garment. A soft breeze blows through the trees, initially refreshing as it cools your sweaty skin. However, it carries something else with it.

The acrid scent of blood assaults your nostrils. It’s thick, drying out your mouth.

Then you hear the sound of flesh tearing under teeth.

Fear snakes through your bones before you notice the presence of the man—or rather, the monster—crouching near the forest's edge. Partially concealed by the tall grass, his body was tense and flexing as he held a woman—who appeared to be dead—in his lower pair of arms.

You've witnessed plenty of violence and brutality in your time. But nothing could have prepared you for witnessing this. No one was ready. You were acutely aware of the attendant behind, muttering in panicked whispers. You can’t bring yourself to turn and face her, not wanting to give this anomaly your back.

With a horrific crack and a pull, an arm was torn off and flung somewhere unseen. There was more sick, wet pounding of flesh before it eventually quieted. It became unnervingly quiet. Too quiet. Angling his head slightly, he was no doubt aware of your group’s presence. You notice two red eyes on one side, studying everyone while simultaneously looking elsewhere.

Finally, he stood to his full height.

Massive. He is massive.

Even from this distance, his intimidating presence was unmistakable.

He turns, his enormous strides carrying him out of the tall grass. In one of his lower hands, he clutched the dead woman by her forearm.

Your stomach drops as you realize this is your first glimpse of your soon-to-be husband.

He was dressed in only a loose-fitting hakama, which you had initially thought was white but now appears dark and flecked with blood stains. Blush pink hair glints in the harsh sunlight. You've heard rumours about his dual visage, but seeing it in person makes you uncertain where to focus.

Blood drips from his mouth and chin, which he refuses to wipe off. The dead woman he clutches bears wounds on her neck and shoulder that he seems fixated on. A torn flap of skin hangs loosely from where he had been feasting and sways with his movements.

At that moment, a horrible thought crosses your mind: you feel tempted to turn your horse around and flee, which would doom your sister. The fact that you even entertain such an idea bewilders you.

You notice your father's horse taking a few steps, effectively snapping you from your daze.

"Sukuna Ryomen," your father's voice falters as he utters the name. Inwardly, you laugh, pleased to see your father humbled. "As the patriarch of the Kasai clan, I am here to fulfill our agreement to unite our clans through marriage."

Sukuna remains silent. He stands motionless, letting his ominous energy roll off him in waves that make you feel like you are drowning. His four red orbs survey everyone calmly, calculating every detail.

With a subtle scoff, he begins to approach the procession.

Holding the woman tightly in a lower hand, he drags her flaccid body across the ground, allowing the lolling face to scrape over rocks and clumps of dirt. Her hair, which was once a deep copper-brown, is matted with blood, and bits of foliage cling to tangled strands. What used to be a cream-coloured robe is stained red and torn in certain areas.

As he gets closer, the horses' unease swells. They snort and puff outbursts of hot air while their hooves paw at the ground, creating a rhythm of nervous energy.

The monster fixes his gaze on your sister and father. Upon reaching them, he intently studies her. You struggle with every ounce of restraint to keep from intervening.

A muscle feathers in his firmly set jaw, and then he opens his mouth to speak.

"Is this my bride?" he drawls.

His voice is deep, rough, stern, rattling your insides.

You're surprised your sister maintains her composure, betraying no reaction. However, you do notice her shoulders subtly giving way.

"No. This is my other daughter, Yuna." Your father turns toward you, giving you a challenging look to step forward and begin your task.

It’s time to introduce yourself to the King of Curses.

Nudging your frightened horse forward, you begin to approach. The sound of your heartbeat fills your ears, a steady thump that reverberates through your chest and settles heavily in your stomach.

Sukuna lazily drags his attention to you, gaze picking you apart from head to toe, keenly noting the signs of weariness from your journey. He’s displeased. His expression betrays his feelings, darkening with disgust as his upper lip twitches.

"Wait! My Lord, you're not supposed to see the bride yet. It's bad luck," Yuna's voice rises, making you blanch.

Bad luck? This entire cursed nuptial was bad luck.

Ignoring your sister, Sukuna moves forward. His bare feet thud against the packed earth. He drags the mangled woman behind him as if unwilling to let it go. You approach each other until you're face to face. 

Even sitting on horseback, you're just barely at eye level with him. The absurd height difference is evident. Tilting his head slightly, he picks you apart with the same intensity he used to pick apart the body he holds.

A prickling sensation radiates beneath your gloves, tingling from your palms to your fingertips as anxiety creeps in.

Movement on his navel draws your attention away from his face. A slit appears, slowly widening to reveal a large, grotesque maw lined with teeth. As you watch in horrified fascination, a tongue unfurls from the opening, wriggling out and licking the air. Repulsed, you look away.

How can you possibly charm this thing?

Your horse shifts nervously, making you tense as you tightly grip the reins in your hands.

"Easy, girl," you soothe her with a pat before bracing yourself to speak to him for the first time.

“Lord Sukuna, my name is—”

"You're even uglier than I expected," he interrupts harshly, lips curling back in a sneer, showing teeth stained with blood.

The audacity. You clench your teeth, hard, resisting the urge to insult him back.

"My Lord?" you manage to grit out.

Sukuna stares for a moment before bursting into deep, unrestrained laughter.

"My Lord? " he repeats, mocking you. "Oh, she has been trained, how delightful," His laughter edges towards manic as he drops the body, letting it slump beside your mount. "What other tricks did they teach you, little bitch? Tell me."

It takes everything you can to resist the urge to retaliate to his provocations. Your gaze flicks to your father, who shoots you a stern look, silently warning you to behave. You understand that provoking Sukuna could endanger everyone, which you don’t want, especially with your sister present.

“Nothing else to say? How disappointing,” Sukuna hums, crossing his upper arms over his chest.

Oh, how you want to cut him down.

“My Lord, I would—”

"Daughter," your father interjects firmly before you can finish your sentence. "Lord Sukuna, we would be honoured if you joined us for the rest of the journey to your shrine," he adds, adjusting his posture slightly to assert control.

Sukuna appears deep in thought, maintaining unwavering eye contact with you. It feels like a tense, silent standoff. You make an effort to keep your expression neutral and as charming as possible.

You still feel like you're drowning under those red orbs.

"Hm, no," he says flatly, lifting the body from the ground.

Keeping unbroken eye contact with you, he grips a fistful of the woman's dirtied hair, fingers digging into the skull, his muscles tense. Slowly, he begins to pull. You watch with horror as the flesh stretches until, gradually, it tears. There's a snap as the muscle fibres finally give way and a plume of blood spurts. The head comes off, neck and all.

You gag.

Vomit crawls its way up your throat. You lean forward, gripping your horse for support as you fight the urge to retch. Several unsteady mutters ripple through the rest of your group.

Sukuna, pleased with your reaction, casually discards the body onto the ground. You watch as blood and gore soak into the earth. He then proceeds to stroll toward your father and presents him with the severed head. Your father accepts begrudgingly and without uttering a word.

Is this some kind of power play between two men vying for control?

Sukuna murmurs a few words to your father, casting a final glance in your direction before calmly striding toward the edge of the forest. You watch as he takes measured steps, his figure gradually disappearing into the dense canopy of trees, leaving a tense silence in his wake.

You exhale.

What just happened?

Your father, still holding the woman’s decapitated head, lets it fall to the ground with a wet thud. He then shifts his attention to you, motioning for you to approach. Guiding your mount closer, you position yourself beside him.

"He is wretched," you spit out, glancing over at your sister, whose eyes widen in alarm at your dishevelled state.

"You look awful," she exclaims, her voice filled with concern. "I will need to fix everything once we arrive."

"Why is that your priority at this moment?" you ask incredulously, taken aback by her apparent lack of concern for the situation. The expression on your sister's face in response makes you immediately regret your words, but the scene you've just witnessed is now carved into your mind. That poor woman’s body. Mutilated, torn apart, and discarded on the road to dry up in the sun.

"It doesn't matter now. There won't be time for that," your father interrupts firmly, dismounting his horse and striding towards you.

"Father?" your eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"Sukuna requests you accompany him back to the shrine. We will meet you there shortly to commence the ceremony," he emphasizes, pulling you down from your horse, the folds of your kimono cascading around you.

The idea fills you with unease. You weren't prepared to be alone with him yet.

"Is there any way to refuse?" you inquire tentatively.

"No," your father snaps abruptly, gripping your forearm tightly as he steers you towards the tree line. You manage to wrench your arm free, earning a stern glare from him as he steps closer, his face before yours. 

"Use this to your advantage," he whispers urgently. "If you find an opportunity, seize it. You might not have to go through with the wedding."

Your throat constricts as you swallow hard.

“But you saw what he just did. What if he tries to kill me?”

The scowl on his mouth deepens, shifting the cartilage in his nose. His lips purse into a thin line, making the creases and wrinkles on his face appear sharp and unkind.

“He won't. He relishes his power over our family now that we have given you to him. Now get in that fucking forest before I have Onishi slit your sister’s throat or worse.”

Your upper lip quivers at the threat. "Okay," you respond nervously.

"Good, now get going," he says harshly, spittle flying from his mouth. He shoves you into the thick undergrowth.

Stumbling slightly, you manage to turn back for one last glance at your sister. Her anxious gaze meets yours, and you silently mouth, "I'll meet you at the shrine."

Taking a deep breath, you gather the edges of your kimono and step into the dense forest.

The reality of being alone with Sukuna for the first time begins to settle in, causing your palms to sweat inside your silk gloves. You steel yourself, knowing you must find a way to turn this situation to your advantage.

Time to confront the monster yourself.

* * * * *

You continue beyond the tree line. The sound of hooves stomping into the earth echoes behind you, indicating that the procession has resumed its journey toward the shrine.

After a few careful steps, you come to a halt. Sukuna is nowhere in sight. You listen intently for his heavy footfalls, but are only met with silence. You are completely alone out here, which gives you pause, remembering how all the animals reacted in his presence. Your fingers twitch nervously at your side.

You exhale.

Should I call out to him?

“Lord Sukuna?” Your voice echoes.

Silence.

Glancing around, something catches your attention—a spattering of blood on foliage. Perhaps a trail left by him. With no other leads, you decide following the bloodstains might guide you to him.

Lifting your kimono to prevent tripping, you cautiously navigate around a cluster of rocks and tree roots, tracing the path marked by blood. You mutter under your breath; you feel slightly anxious that he might be compelling you to search for him.

With each step, you delve deeper into the forest.

The rising humidity envelops you in an uncomfortable embrace, and a stray strand of hair falls across your vision, adding to the growing disarray. "You are even uglier than I expected," his cruel words rattle around in your brain. Letting out a strained sigh, you realize this isn’t going to be easy.

As you continue to walk, your mind drifts to the dead, partially eaten woman rotting on the dirt road. What if your father’s judgment is wrong, and Sukuna ambushes you? Can you truly consider yourself safe from his wrath merely by your title as his bride? What will become of your sister should anything happen to you? Struggling to quell these unsettling thoughts, you make a concerted effort to regain your focus.

After some time, the blood trail ends, leading you to a flowing stream. The surface sparkles in the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. Sweat pools at your lower back, prompting you to pull the fabric away in search of relief. Eyeing the water, you are tempted to wade in to escape the stifling heat. You lick your parched lips and decide to at least dip your toes in.

You step towards it, and the air changes. An ominous energy glides up your body, making you stop.

He’s here, and he’s watching you.

Your heartbeat quickens.

Your eyes dart around the area until his large frame catches your attention. He stands beneath the shadow of an oak tree by the water’s edge, watching you intently, pinning you down with those red orbs. As soon as he sees you've noticed him, he steps away from where he is standing and approaches.

Why must he be so enormous? Every aspect of his presence commands attention. You cannot look or breathe without wanting to crawl away and cower.

A slight tremble in your legs keeps you rooted to the spot as he deliberately takes his time approaching you. His pace is unhurried, as if he possesses all the time in the world while you are the one left waiting.

Tightness knots low in your belly.

At last, he reaches you, towering like a monolith and casting a dark shadow with his presence. You had been looking down, but self-consciously, you lifted your head, straining your neck to look up at him.

You won't deny it. Sukuna is striking in a harsh and cruel sort of way. His features are strong, with a straight nose, an angled jawline, and a defined brow. His neck is thick, all corded muscle, and it’s clear you wouldn’t be able to wrap both of your hands around it if you wanted to strangle him. His blush pink hair is pushed back, set in a way that seems like controlled chaos. The right side of his face, with that mask and its larger orbs, pulls at you the most. The texture of it appears rough, with grooves that jut out slightly. You wonder why or what it even is. The rest of him is dense, with prominent tendons and fibres.

Upon closer inspection, you observe that his face, hands, and chest are now free of blood. A subtle sheen suggests he has recently cleaned himself, likely explaining why the trail led you to this stream. Several beads of water trickle slowly down his neck, outlining paths over his exposed chest.

Your throat dries as you realize you've been staring for too long. You lower your gaze, unable to endure the silence any further, and clear your throat.

“You asked for my presence, my Lord?” you ask nervously.

Without responding, he begins circling you like a predator, each step resonating with the crunch of leaves and twigs underfoot. Unnerved, you keep your eyes fixed on him, striving to maintain your composure as he examines you from every angle. This scrutiny continues several times, with him circling, examining, and deliberating. Finally, he comes to a halt in front of you.

“How old are you?” he probes.

“Twenty-five,” you reply quietly.

“Hm.”

Leaning closer, he reaches out a hand towards your face, compelling you to flinch instinctively. He notices your reaction, which causes him to grin, contorting the black tattoos on his face. Running his fingers through your smudged makeup, his touch is deliberate and firm, leaving impressions on your skin. You bite down on the inside of your cheek. As he pulls his hand back, you notice streaks of makeup staining his fingertips, which he rubs together thoughtfully.

“When we arrive, take that shit off your face,” he remarks curtly.

You clench your fists.

“Of course.”

With a vacant stare fixed on you, he extends his fingers towards you again. This time, he plucks the wisteria flowers that survived the journey and removes them one by one from your hair. Thoughtlessly casting aside the delicate adornments your sister had carefully placed, he then moves away from you. You observe in silence, gazing down at the fragile purple petals strewn upon the ground.

A sharp ache seizes your chest.

“Come,” he orders over his shoulder, beckoning you with two fingers and starting to walk with an air that suggests he expects you to follow like a dog called to heel. Despite the demeaning manner, you gather your hem to hurry after him.

Deeper into the forest. Closer to the shrine.

The walk continues in disquiet, the forest enveloping you with its silence. The canopy above provides scant refuge from the brutal sun, and the thick humidity lingers. Bringing your hand up, you attempt to fan yourself, hindered by the discomfort of your damnable kimono.

As you trail behind Sukuna, you continue assessing him, searching for any weakness or exploitable detail. Your gaze fixes on his four muscular arms, noticing the black ink adorning his skin. Next, the sinewy movement of his back muscles captures your attention.

He looms large and solid. A huge target.

Narrowing your eyes, you focus on the space between his lower shoulders, tracing the lines of his back tattoo. Beneath your silk gloves, your fingers itch uncomfortably, the urge to reach out and end him growing stronger.

With his back turned to you, this could be your chance.

With trembling hands, you peel off one glove and grip it tightly in the other. Moving cautiously, you edge closer to Sukuna, careful to avoid making excessive noise. As you extend your hand, you must concentrate hard to reach your gift. Finally, you sense its faint hum beneath your fingertips. Your heart pounds in your chest, drowning out all other sounds as you prepare for this pivotal moment.

End this before it even begins—

"What the hell are you doing?" Sukuna abruptly halts his steps and turns around, staring down at you.

No!

You retract your hand in a panicked blur, hastily shoving it back into your glove. His lower eyes fixate on your hand while his upper pair scrutinize your flushed, heated face.

“N-nothing,” you mumble, voice barely audible, feeling the space around him growing hostile.

A serious crease forms above his nose.

“You were about to touch me with your vile little fingers. Did I say you could touch me?” His voice turns cold, laced with aggression.

“Well, no, I—”

“Then what the fuck were you doing?” He steps closer, gripping your chin, preventing you from looking away. “I don’t appreciate being touched by mutts.”

Nervously, you wring your hands together, fingers intertwining in a familiar gesture that surfaces whenever you are anxious.

His grip becomes harsh. Dull nails dig into your soft skin. You frantically search for an explanation.

"I apologize," you somehow manage to say, your voice shaky. "I... I wanted to... to see your tattoos up close," you blurt out, immediately regretting the feeble excuse. 

“Tch. You wanted to see my tattoos,” he says, tone heavy with disbelief.

“I apologize. I shouldn’t have done that.” You soften your voice, hoping to diffuse the tension.

“Are you that needy that you felt the necessity to touch me before we are wed?”

Your skin bristles.

“What? No. That’s not it at all.”

Sukuna releases your chin and crosses his arms, staring intently at you as though lost in thought, reflecting deeply on something. You find yourself disliking this demeanour of his. It makes him less predictable and more cunning, as if he’s devising new ways to toy with you.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” he asks suddenly, throwing you off guard.

Irritation and embarrassment flush your face at the intrusive question.

"Excuse me?" You attempt to keep the bitterness out of your voice, though it rises an octave.

“You heard me.” A smirk breaks across his lips. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

Another flush of irritation races up your spine, leaving you peppered with more sweat than you can handle.

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” The words slip out before you can consider their consequences.

The smirk that was there a moment ago is now gone. Sukuna's upper arm snaps out, his fingers engulfing your entire neck. He pulls you close, pressing your clothed chest against his bare one, effectively preventing any swift retaliation. You feel your heartbeat pulsing against the flat of his palm.

Fear worms its way into you. 

Looming into your face, his breath washes over you.

“Are you an imbecile? Do you need me to repeat the question?”

“No,” you breathe as his grip tightens slightly.

He looks down at your face with disdain, waiting for a response.

A heartbeat passes.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, feeling exposed. “I’m a virgin.”

Casting a haughty look, Sukuna smacks his lips together. His grip loosens on your throat, and then it falls away.

He scoffs.

“Of course, look at you. You're pathetic.”

You hold your tongue, casting him a slight frown that you swiftly erase, though he catches it.

"Don't look at me like that," he laughs, the noise lacking any warmth. “Now I see why you wanted my attention." His expression shifts again to something indiscernible. His mood swings are starting to grate on you. "I can address that issue for you sooner, perhaps even immediately."

You take a small step back.

"I beg your pardon, my Lord?" You respond respectfully, uncertain if you heard him correctly. He lifts his eyebrow and steps forward, returning your nervous gaze with a more contentious expression.

“You seem to be hard of hearing. I've had to repeat myself, and it's becoming tedious." His voice is low, the words wrapping around your throat as if they’re his hands.

You step back again.

He moves closer.

Your heart races as you realize you’re not prepared for this moment. You planned to lure the creature and catch him off guard, but now you find yourself caught off guard instead.

"I don't think that's appropriate,” you murmur, edging further away. “Let's wait until after the ceremony.”

"I think I’ll have a taste of my bride before she becomes my wife." His mouth rolls up, flashing a bit of canines that appear all too sharp, while his eyes widen with hunger.

That look tells you everything. You've glimpsed it before, fleetingly on other men but never so intensely.

He’s ravenous.

Your instincts scream at you to run, but fleeing will only cause more trouble. As your father put it, this is an opportunity. Fine, you’ll take it—use it. Find another moment to place a hand on the monster and end him.

Forcing yourself to freeze in place, you watch through your lashes as he approaches slowly, like you're a forest animal he’s afraid of scaring off. How deceptive of him. This thing is not gentle. He’s fucking toying with you.

Reaching down, you subtly pinch one of your silk gloves, preparing to slip it free while he distracts himself with your body. But before you can act, one of his lower hands clamps around your wrist.

You tense, eyes snapping to his.

Shit.

A crooked grin widens across Sukuna’s face, and suddenly, he’s maneuvering you.

Turning you, he pulls you into him so hard that your back thuds against his chest. The impact fuses both your bodies together, your softness to his cutting muscle. Swiftly, he grasps your other wrist, holding both firmly at your sides, while the top pair presses down on your shoulders, forcing you to tilt your head back to meet his red gaze.

“Let's see how sensitive your body is.” His voice deepens as he leans over your shoulder and slides his upper hands down the front of your garment.

Don’t panic. Do not panic.

Two hands dip into the panels of your kimono, and he takes his time while his hands find their way into your undergarment. Massive palms splay against your breasts, cupping them firmly, making you whimper as your body grows warmer.

Sukuna bends, lowering his head next to yours.

"Already whining?" There’s a smirk in his voice, and as he speaks low against your nape, his breath gently stirs your hair. The heavy dampness in the forest, mingling with his warm exhale, threatens to overwhelm you.

Saliva pools then dries in your mouth, and when you try to respond, no words come out.

Pushing up on your sensitive breasts, Sukuna begins to knead and poke his fingertips into the soft flesh. You pant as his left hand comes up to the place where your pulse thrums wildly in your chest.

"Your little heart is beating so fast," he chuckles. "There's no need to be afraid."

That ever-present condescending tone makes your face scrunch up, and you shift uncomfortably.

His right hand clenches reflexively on your breast while the other withdraws from the stuffy garment. You watch nervously as it ascends to the neckline of your kimono, his fingers curling possessively around the delicate fabric.

He stills. You swallow.

“What are you do—”

He rips it open in one smooth motion, exposing your swelling chest and nipples to his eyes.

“There you are,” he hisses.

In shame, you slam your eyes shut. This man, this creature, is the first to ever see you.

“Open your eyes!” The command cuts sharply, but it's softened by something gently brushing the crest of your ear.

Shuddering, you reluctantly obey, only to observe his large fingers circling your areolas, moving lazily, tauntingly.

Your breathing increases, and you become lightheaded. Turning your head slightly, you attempt to focus on anything—a tree, a rock, anything to distract from the moment.

"Don’t look away.” He tightens his lower hands on your wrists to the point of pain. Your head snaps back, and you look down at your heaving chest. "Better."

Leaning closer, Sukuna’s mask comes into view as he presses it against your face. Your soft, damp cheeks rub against it, allowing you to feel its rough texture and protruding edges. His lower eyes fixate on your breasts while his upper eyes cut to the side, locking on you, drinking in every expression.

Your head swims dangerously.

As Sukuna’s hot breath hits the side of your neck, a solitary bead of sweat trails its way down, gliding past your collarbone, tracing the path to your sternum, and down between your breasts. He pauses the circling of your nipples, as both of you stare, transfixed, captivated by the droplet's unhurried journey until it finally disappears into the fabric of your torn clothing.

A low growl rumbles in Sukuna’s chest, a primal sound that signals his imminent action.

After a moment, he makes his move.

The fingers that have been slowly circling your sensitive flesh drawback. Swiftly, he flicks your nipples. Your breasts sway slightly. Then he does it again. Then again. And again. The feeling is acute and sharp. They harden. Your mouth drops open, and you let out a traitorous groan.

“Already?” he chuckles.

Already what?!

Your mind struggles to comprehend what's happening. And he only makes it worse when his fingers latch onto the sensitive tips, pinching and rolling them, making your back arch against his chest.

“Look at you,” he grunts, watching your spine bow and curve.

The forest is gone from your vision now. Heat is everywhere, crawling over you, seeping into your pores.

Another harsh tug makes your whole body tremble uncontrollably.

"N-no more," you mumble, squirming in his grip, face turning into a sticky mess of sweat.

Ignoring you, he applies more pressure to the hardening nubs, rolling them between his thumb and index fingers with no regard for your words.

He flicks your nipples again, earning him a low whine. Leaning in, he drags his sharp canines across your neck, leaving red marks, followed by a swipe of his rough tongue. You freeze, remembering how he used those teeth to rip flesh from the woman on the road. Panicking, you squirm, shuffling your feet in the undergrowth. Sukuna huffs in disapproval and shoves a knee between your thighs to halt your movements.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see his gaze fixed downward, reflecting an intense concentration as he continues to torment your nipples. Sharp pinpricks dance across your skull, intensifying the pulsing in your head. You’re certain you are going to blackout. The overwhelming warmth, the blurred vision, the relentless onslaught—it’s too much.

Letting go of one—now sore—bud, he lets that hand drop down to your navel. The descent is slow, pushing through the torn fabric with ease. He presses his fingertips into your damp skin, rippling it and mapping it out with his touch.

“What else are you keeping from me?” His voice becomes impossibly deeper.

“Please. Lord Sukuna,” you rasp.

"Please, what? It seems you’re having issues with speaking and listening.” His hand comes to a stop, splaying just above your cunt. 

Your breath catches in your throat.

You aren’t ready. Not like this. Not with him.

A sudden sensation startles you. On his palm, it’s as if something has opened up unexpectedly, though all you can discern is the sensation of a wet tongue emerging and intimately licking your skin.

Your eyes close as you struggle to breathe, gasping for gulps of the muggy air.

“Please—”

The damp muscle on his palm licks harder, slathering you in a thick coat of saliva, pulling you back so your eyes open again.

His fingers trail lower… lower, then suddenly pause before withdrawing slightly. It’s as if he’s trying to push you over the edge. See how far he can unravel you. But it doesn’t matter. You’re fighting to stay focused, to stay upright even.

“I’m—I’m going to—”

Your words fade as your vision blurs.

Despite Sukuna's solid frame supporting you from behind, your body slackens under the weight of it all: the forced marriage arrangement, your overwhelming responsibility, the looming threat to your sister's life, the oppressive heat, the monster at your back.

Suddenly, you feel nothing holding you up. You're weightless. Sukuna has seemingly let go of your shaking body, and you’re falling, sinking, eyes closing.

As soon as you hit the forest floor, you faint.

* * * * *

🔗 Chapter 2