#these days but this one still stirs something within me

[fixated-cookies]

I…. LOVE YOUR WORK!!! It’s so amazing and I love love love it!!!

I just can’t get it out of my head of a Yandere!Dark Cacao. Walk with me here. I personally think that he’s the type to not really fall in love easily. It takes a lot of work and effort on his end to even be receptive of that. So when these strong, needy feelings fill him over someone he doesn’t know too well…

He can’t get it out of his head. Let’s say he’s only seen them in passing before, like reader is in his kingdom but he doesn’t interact with them regularly. But suddenly The King of the Dark Cacao kingdom is seen walking the streets more often, in hopes of seeing them again.

Then it turns to obsession. Then using his kingly powers to get them in his court, then to his bed. I know bro has a breeding kink lmaoooo.

a slow burn, I see? Forgive me if any of this is out of character as I haven't met him in the game yet so the beginning of this fic may be inaccurate but I did listen to his voicelines for about twenty minutes and skimmed over the fandom character site for him.

MDNI

warning- SMUT, yandere, mentions of pregnancy

Ooooh, imagine this—he rarely leaves the castle, his world confined within the cold stone walls, weighed down by duty, regret, and solitude. He does not seek company. He does not expect anything new. And yet…One day, he steps outside. Maybe it’s just a rare moment where the crushing silence of his throne room feels too heavy.

And that’s when he sees you.

A fleeting moment. A mere glance. Perhaps you're just speaking with a vendor, your voice barely audible over the cold wind. Perhaps you're helping a child who tripped on a rock, your warmth a stark contrast to the frozen world around you. Unremarkable to anyone else… but to him? He stops. He watches. It’s almost infuriating.

You, a mere presence in his kingdom, have unsettled him. And as he turns to retreat back to the castle, he realizes something far more troubling. Your presence won't leave his thoughts. You have never even spoken to the man yet you have left a mark. He grumbles endlessly about it.

and so, the King begins to walk the streets more often. He convinces himself it's for patrols, for the safety of his people. But the truth?

He is searching for you.

Can you imagine if one day while you're going about your business, you suddenly notice a heavy presence nearby. A shadow cast over you, unmoving. And when you finally turn to look…Dark Cacao Cookie is standing there. The King. Your King. The one who rarely leaves his throne, let alone engages with common folk. His gaze is piercing, unreadable, as if he’s measuring you. But then, after a long pause, his deep voice rumbles through the cold air:

"you..."

His voice is deep, but there's an edge of hesitation in it. As if he's still questioning why he’s even speaking to you.You, of course, are stunned. Why wouldn't you be? The King—who rarely steps outside his castle, much less engages in small talk—is addressing you.

“I have noticed you… around the kingdom.” A pause. He’s trying to find his words, but his social skills have long withered in his isolation. There’s a stiffness to him, a rigidity that makes the moment feel almost unnatural.Then, in an attempt at conversation—because he needs to keep talking to you—he says something so unintentionally flat and awkward.

“… You frequent the markets.”

It’s not a question. Just a statement. A simple observation that lacks the warmth and fluidity of normal conversation. If you respond kindly, maybe laughing softly at his bluntness, his grip on his sword tightens slightly—a subtle reaction to the unfamiliar feeling stirring within him.

If you seem nervous, he catches it immediately. It makes him falter. Has he… frightened you?

He does not know how to approach this properly. He is not Affogato Cookie, who weaves lies like silk. He is not Pure Vanilla Cookie, who speaks with the ease of a gentle ruler. He is Dark Cacao Cookie—a warrior first, a king second, and a man who has long since forgotten how to be anything else. Yet, for some reason, he finds himself wanting to try.

Since that fateful interaction, you'll find yourself catching glimpses of him on the streets more often. At first, it’s coincidental. Or so you think. You’re at the marketplace again, minding your business, admiring some fabrics, when a shadow looms behind you. That deep, stern voice breaks the air.

“… That color does not suit you.”

You nearly jump out of your skin. Turning around, you find him. Dark Cacao Cookie, standing far too close, his sharp gaze fixated on the fabric in your hands.

Before you can question his sudden presence, he’s already handing the merchant payment—for a different fabric. A color he believes suits you better. A color he has chosen for you. You try to protest. He doesn’t let you. “You will take it.” His tone is absolute, the voice of a king who is not used to being refused. But there’s something else underneath it. Something… softer.

Almost like he’s asking you to accept it.

From that moment on, you notice it more and more.

The times where you think you are alone are often moments where he is there. You sit beneath the castle walls, enjoying the crisp mountain air? Suddenly, he’s there, standing just a few feet away, arms crossed, his heavy gaze resting upon you. Saying nothing. Just… watching. You pretend not to notice.

You walk through the halls, your footsteps echoing? At some point, his own join yours.

The strangest part?

It never feels like an order. He never demands your presence—he simply invites himself. A king with all the power in the world, and yet, when it comes to you… he is subtle, well as subtle as he can get. And when you see the way his dark, brooding expression softens—just the slightest—when you accept his silent companionship…You realize.

He is lonely. So who are you to say no... One day, he does more than just linger in your company.

"Walk with me."

It is not a request. It is a command. You follow. The castle halls are as cold as the blizzards beyond its walls, and yet, standing beside him, you feel something else—a weight. A silent gravity that pulls you further into his world. "There are too many untrustworthy eyes in my court." He says this without looking at you, his voice low, contemplative. "I require a presence I can rely on."The implication sinks in slowly. He means you. A mere civilian, now being offered—no, chosen—to stand among his retainers, to serve within his court.

And when you hesitate—because how could you not?—his gaze finally meets yours, and for the first time, you see something beyond that cold exterior. Something dangerous. Something desperate."I do not choose lightly," he tells you, as if that alone should quell your concerns. "Do not disappoint me..." And he walks off.

welp...At first you thought you were to become a run-of-the-mill servant, managing documents or assisting with the kingdom’s daily affairs. But no—you are his personal retainer. Which within itself comes with a multitude of responsibilities. You are always near him. Always. If he’s in the throne room? You’re beside him. If he’s overseeing military drills? You’re standing behind him. If he’s having private strategy meetings?

You’re the one bringing in the tea, catching glimpses of war plans you were never meant to see. You handle his personal affairs. If he needs something done, you do it. Not another retainer, not an attendant—you. Delivering messages, overseeing his meals, ensuring his chambers are in order. It’s suffocating. It’s too much. The weight of his attention is unbearable. The King of the Dark Cacao Kingdom is a man of few words, but when he speaks to you, his voice is never without purpose. His words are never wasted. And worst of all? He watches. Always.

The moment you finally break—when you let the weight of your duties, your exhaustion, your fears spill from your lips—Dark Cacao Cookie says nothing at first. His piercing violet eyes study you in silence, unreadable as ever, his face softens. For a long, suffocating moment, you think you’ve made a grave mistake. Then, in that deep, resolute voice of his, he utters something that changes everything.

"Very well."

You don’t understand what he means, not at first. But the very next day, your role has shifted. You are no longer his retainer. No more early mornings preparing for court. No more long hours standing at his side in the freezing cold. No more drowning in responsibilities, wondering if you’ll ever get a moment to yourself.

Instead, you are kept. Now, you have retainers. You have a chamber away from the bitter chill of the outside world, draped in furs and silks, warm and untouched by the endless snow. You are given meals hand-prepared to suit your tastes, no longer the same rations as the knights. Dark Cacao Cookie’s presence is a constant—always near, always watching, always ensuring you are comfortable, well-fed, warm. If you so much as shiver, a thick fur-lined cloak is draped over your shoulders before you can even voice a complaint. If you seem distant, his voice—low and firm—reminds you that you have no need to worry anymore.

Your confusion lingers—an uneasy weight in your chest—until the moment you find yourself pinned beneath him in his chambers.

Dark Cacao Cookie looms over you, his heavy frame caging you in, his hands pressed firm against the mattress on either side of your head. His armor is gone, leaving only the thick fabric of his robes and the heat of his body so close, too close.

"You wanted this, did you not?" His voice is a low rumble, rougher than usual, his restraint a fragile thread threatening to snap.You don’t know how to answer. You don’t even know what this is anymore.

All you know is that his gaze is devouring you whole, his presencesuffocating, overwhelming, and despite the storm of emotions twisting inside you—you cannot move. He looks over you with a gaze that's deep and intense. You're right about him having a breeding kink, its actually rather intense. The moment you give him permission for him to show you the depth of his obsession love, you will find his fingers trailing beneath your thighs tenderly. Just for him to grab them and fold you like a damn chair. Your knees to your chest while he gazes at your sopping pussy like a starved man, who knows when was the last time he's gotten some? He's not holding back.

Not when he’s spent so long buried beneath duty and solitude, his heart a frozen wasteland—only for you to appear, thawing him with your presence. Not when these feelings have been simmering beneath the surface, growing stronger with each passing day. And certainly not when you’ve finally given him permission to indulge in what he’s been denying himself for so, so long.

You feel it in the way his grip tightens, in the way his massive frame envelops you completely. His eyes, dark and intense, speak of hunger—one that has been ignored for far too long. "You will endure," he says, more to himself than to you. A promise. A warning.

And when his cock sinks into your cunt, when his hair falls beneath the sides of your face, and a couple months down the lines when you pop out your first, just know it was him who claimed you.

--

we wont talk about how long this took me to finish, I get dried out of ideas towards the end that's why its rushed :(( also my laptop has been glitching for some reason hmm... I think I wrote cacao here to be too strict, he's gentle but also is a warrior at the same time and I think I was having trouble showing that, aww man.

[kathaelipwse]

A Love That Time Forgot | Bangchan

Word Count: 2941 words {Reading Time: 10-ish mins} Warnings: Witch!reader x Knight!chan | Bittersweet ending | NO PROOF READING WAS DONE Genre: Fantasy | Angst | Romance | Reincarnation | Enemies-to-Lovers | Suggestive (MDNI) Synopsis: You have walked through centuries—cursed with immortality, watching kingdoms rise and fall. Long ago, you had a mortal lover—Bang Chan, a brave warrior who promised to return to you. But he never did. Now, after lifetimes of loneliness, you meet him again… only he doesn’t remember you. Worse, he is now a knight sworn to hunt witches—and you are at the top of his list. As he gets closer to you, something within him stirs—memories that shouldn’t exist, emotions he shouldn’t feel. But can you make him remember before he kills you? Author's Note: Sighs. No clue why I wrote angst. (And posted after A WHILE.)

Centuries ago, in a realm where magic whispered through ancient forests and kingdoms clashed beneath star-dusted skies, love was not merely forbidden; it was a crime. You, a witch of formidable power, a weaver of starlight and shadow, found your heart ensnared by Bang Chan, a mortal warrior. His loyalty lay with a kingdom steeped in fear, a land where magic was anathema, a plague to be eradicated. Yet, amidst the clash of steel and the stifling prejudice, a love bloomed, a fragile flower in the heart of a storm.

Stolen moments were their sanctuary. A hidden glade where moonlight painted silver patterns on the forest floor, a forgotten tower overlooking the kingdom’s bustling city, a secluded cave where the echoes of the sea whispered secrets. Each encounter was a defiance, a rebellion against the very fabric of their world. Chan, with his calloused hands and eyes that held the depth of a thousand battles, would trace the constellations on your skin, his touch a silent promise. You, with your whispered incantations and eyes that shimmered with ancient wisdom, would weave enchantments of protection around him, hoping to shield him from the encroaching darkness.

"Wait for me," he had said, his forehead pressing against yours, the warmth a stark contrast to the chilling wind that whipped around them. His voice, usually a command on the battlefield, was now a soft plea. "Even if I die, I will find my way back to you. I swear it upon the ancient stones, upon the very stars that witness our love."

But war was a ravenous beast, and fate, a cruel puppeteer. He vanished into the heart of the conflict, his promise echoing in the empty spaces he left behind. Days bled into weeks, weeks into months, and then, silence. A silence that screamed of loss.

Desperate, driven by a love that defied reason, you broke the sacred laws of your lineage. You delved into forbidden rituals, invoking ancient powers that should have remained dormant. You sought to resurrect him, to pull him back from the clutches of death, but fate was not so easily swayed. The spell, a twisted mockery of your desire, did not restore him. Instead, it cursed you with immortality, a lonely eternity stretching before you like an endless, desolate landscape.

Centuries passed, each one a heavy, agonizing burden. Kingdoms rose and fell, empires crumbled into dust, and the world transformed, yet you remained, a silent observer in the theater of time. The memory of Chan, his face, his touch, his voice, became a constant ache, a phantom limb that throbbed with unfulfilled longing. You watched as the world changed, the whispers of magic turned into fearful screams, the open fields turned into bustling cities, and the old ways became legends.

Until now.

Until you saw him again, a figure emerging from the shadows of a world you barely recognized, yet his essence burned familiar.

The world had changed, a tapestry woven with steel and smoke, where the whispers of magic were met with fear and violence. Witches were still hunted, their powers deemed a threat to the rigid order of the new kingdoms. At the head of this brutal crusade stood none other than Bang Chan.

No longer the warrior of honor, his heart a beacon of loyalty and love, he was the King’s most feared knight, a figure shrouded in coldness and ruthlessness. His name was spoken with a mix of awe and terror, his blade a symbol of the kingdom’s unwavering might. His eyes, once filled with warmth and devotion, now held the chilling emptiness of a winter’s night.

And when his blade met your throat, the cold steel a stark reminder of the chasm that separated your past and present, his eyes held no flicker of recognition, no echo of the love you shared.

"You should be dead," he murmured, his voice sharp with suspicion, a predator assessing its prey. The words were a physical blow, a confirmation of the cruel twist of fate.

"And yet, here I stand," you whispered, the words a defiance against the impossible. The air crackled with unspoken questions, with the weight of a past that refused to be forgotten.

Something flickered in his gaze, a fleeting shadow of a forgotten memory, a ghost of a love that lingered in the depths of his soul. But before he could grasp the elusive thread, you vanished into the night, a wisp of shadow and magic, leaving him with nothing but doubt, a haunting echo in the silence of his heart.

Chan was haunted by dreams, vivid and unsettling, visions of a woman he did not know, yet somehow knew intimately. Whispers of a love that seemed to belong to another lifetime, a forgotten language spoken in the depths of his soul. He dismissed them as the remnants of a fevered mind, a product of the relentless battles and the weight of his duty.

And then, he found you again.

The enchanted forest, a sanctuary of ancient magic, hid you well, its labyrinthine paths and whispering trees a formidable barrier. But his instincts, sharpened by years of relentless training, led him to your hidden abode.

"You're in my head," he accused, his sword drawn, its gleaming edge reflecting the moonlight, his heart a frantic drumbeat against his ribs. "You're weaving illusions, witchcraft."

"You know me," you countered, stepping closer, your voice a gentle caress, a whisper of a forgotten melody. "Somewhere inside you, beneath the layers of time and memory, you remember."

His grip tightened on his sword, the knuckles white, his eyes a storm of confusion and suspicion. "Witchcraft," he repeated, a desperate attempt to cling to the familiar, to the logic of his world.

"No," you whispered, your hand reaching out, a silent plea. "Fate."

A battle raged in his eyes, a conflict between the man he was and the man he was meant to be, a war you refused to let him fight alone. And when his hesitation, a flicker of doubt in the armor of his resolve, gave you an opening, you vanished, leaving him standing in the ruins of a past he didn’t yet understand, a puzzle he was compelled to solve.

But he followed, driven by an unseen force, a pull that defied logic and reason.

Chan, a man bound by duty and discipline, should have turned back, should have retreated into the familiar embrace of his world. Instead, he chased you, drawn by an invisible thread, into the heart of the enchanted forest, into the sanctuary of your forgotten past.

And suddenly, he was inside your home, a place untouched by time, a haven filled with remnants of a life that whispered to him like a ghost, a symphony of forgotten memories. Ancient tapestries depicting scenes he vaguely recognized, books filled with symbols he instinctively understood, and the lingering scent of your magic, a familiar warmth that permeated the air.

"Tell me you don’t feel it," you whispered, your eyes searching his, seeking a spark of recognition. "Tell me you don’t know me."

His jaw clenched, his voice rough with denial. "You’re playing with my mind, weaving illusions, witchcraft."

"Am I?" You reached for him, your fingertips grazing his skin, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through his veins, a reminder of a connection he couldn’t explain. And then—he remembered.

Not fully, not yet. But flashes of a past that should not exist, a life lived in a time he couldn’t comprehend, slammed into him like a tidal wave. Your laughter, a melody that resonated deep within his soul. His hands tangled in your hair, the silken strands a familiar caress. His lips murmuring your name in the dark, a sound that echoed in the chambers of his heart.

Something inside him snapped, the dam of his carefully constructed reality cracking under the weight of the encroaching memories. With a growl of frustration and desire, he grabbed you, slamming you against the wall, the force of his actions a reflection of the turmoil within him. The air between you ignited, electric with something forbidden and familiar, a spark of a love that refused to be extinguished.

"What have you done to me?" he whispered, his voice rough with conflict, his eyes a storm of confusion and longing.

"Nothing," you breathed, your voice a soft caress, a balm to his tormented soul. "I just let you remember."

And then his lips crashed into yours, a desperate, aching plea, a battle between love and war, a collision of past and present. His hands roamed your body, relearning the contours of a love he once knew, his breath uneven, matching yours, a rhythm of a forgotten dance.

You gasped as he lifted you, pressing you against him as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded, the anchor to his fractured reality. His lips left scorching trails down your neck, murmuring words that made no sense to him, but you knew they were remnants of his past self, breaking through the barriers of time and memory.

And for that night, he let himself fall, surrendering to the echoes of a love that transcended lifetimes.

When dawn came, painting the sky with hues of rose and gold, clarity returned, a cruel and unforgiving light that exposed the fragile nature of their shared night. Chan awoke, the remnants of passion still clinging to him like a phantom limb, and found you still in his arms, your warmth a comforting weight, an anchor in the storm of his memories. But that warmth, that intimacy, terrified him. It was a stark reminder of the forbidden, of the world he was sworn to uphold.

He tore himself away, the movement abrupt and violent, his heart pounding against his ribs like a trapped bird. The weight of his duty, the rigid structure of his life, crashed down on him, a crushing burden. He was the King’s knight, a symbol of unwavering loyalty, and you were the kingdom’s greatest enemy, a witch whose very existence threatened the order he was bound to protect.

"I… I can’t," he rasped, his voice rough with remorse and fear, retreating as if burned by your touch. The words were a betrayal, a denial of the very love that had blossomed in the night.

"Chan—" You reached for him, your eyes filled with a hurt that shattered something deep within him, a fragile piece of his soul.

"No!" His hands clenched into fists, the knuckles white with tension. "I don’t belong to you. I don't belong to this."

You stepped closer, the hurt in your eyes deepening, a silent accusation. "Then why did you let yourself remember? Why did you surrender to the echoes of our past?"

But he didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The conflict within him was a raging inferno, consuming his reason and his heart. He turned and left, disappearing into the shadows of the forest, leaving you alone with the shattered remnants of a night that should have been a promise.

And when the King, a man consumed by fear and paranoia, commanded your execution, Chan did not object. He stood silent, his face a mask of cold resolve, his heart a battlefield where duty and love clashed in a brutal, unending war. He watched as the wheels of fate turned, sealing your destiny with the cold, unyielding stamp of his silence.

You stood on the execution platform, the rough wood cold beneath your bare feet, the air thick with the scent of fear and anticipation. The crowd below, a sea of faces twisted with hatred and bloodlust, hungered for your demise, a spectacle of the kingdom’s power. And at the center of it all stood Chan, his sword gleaming in the harsh light, his face an impenetrable mask, torn between the duty that bound him and the destiny that called to him.

"End her," the King commanded, his voice echoing across the square, a decree that sealed your fate.

Chan raised his blade, the movement mechanical, devoid of emotion, but his hands shook, the tremors betraying the turmoil within him. Memories flooded back in full force, a torrent of images and emotions that overwhelmed his senses. He saw you, not as a witch, not as an enemy, but as the woman he once died loving, the woman whose laughter was a melody, whose touch was a fire, whose love was a beacon in the darkness.

His grip loosened on the sword, the steel trembling. His chest ached, a physical manifestation of the pain that tore through his soul. And suddenly, he knew. He could not lose you again. He could not bear the weight of another lifetime without your love.

Before the King could react, before the guards could intervene, Chan turned his blade against them, cutting them down with the precision of a man reborn, a warrior driven by a love that transcended duty. He fought his way to you, a whirlwind of steel and fury, breaking your chains with a single, decisive stroke, pulling you into his arms, his touch a desperate plea for forgiveness.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice breathless, his eyes searching yours, seeking a flicker of hope.

Tears burned in your eyes, a mixture of relief and disbelief. "Always," you whispered, the word a testament to a love that had endured beyond lifetimes.

And with that, you both ran, fleeing the wrath of the King, the judgment of the kingdom, and the cruel hand of fate.

But the King’s wrath was swift and relentless. His soldiers, driven by fear and loyalty, pursued you with unwavering determination, their numbers overwhelming, their resolve unyielding. They found you before you could escape, their blades striking Chan down, his blood staining the earth a crimson testament to their cruelty.

He fell, his body a lifeless weight in your arms, the warmth of his life fading into the cold embrace of death.

You screamed, a raw, primal sound of grief and despair, a cry that echoed through the forest, shaking the very foundations of the earth. Magic surged through you, wild and untamed, a force unleashed by the depths of your sorrow, a power that threatened to consume everything in its path.

And now, you had a choice, a cruel and agonizing choice that would determine the fate of your love.

Sacrifice your immortality, the very essence of your being, to bring him back, to restore the life that had been so cruelly taken?

Make him immortal, binding his soul to yours, ensuring that you would never lose him again, but condemning him to an eternity haunted by the echoes of your shared past?

Erase his memories, setting him free from the burden of your love, allowing him to live a life untouched by the pain of your intertwined destinies?

Tears streaked down your face, blurring your vision, as you whispered your decision into the wind, a silent prayer, a desperate plea to the forces that governed your lives.

Because love was never the curse, the burden that weighed you down. It was the price, the sacrifice you were willing to make, the ultimate act of devotion. And fate, the cruel architect of your destinies, always demanded to be paid, its debts settled in tears and blood.

You dropped to your knees, your hands trembling as they cupped his face, the skin cold and lifeless. "No, no, no—stay with me," you pleaded, your voice a broken whisper.

His lips barely curled into a weak smile, a final gesture of love. "I found you again," he whispered, his voice fading into the silence. "That’s… enough."

"No!" The word broke from you, raw and desperate, a cry against the injustice of fate. Magic surged within you, a tempest of power, wild and untamed. You could save him. You could tear apart the very fabric of reality, rewrite the cruel ending that had been imposed upon you.

But deep inside, you knew the truth, a truth that echoed in the depths of your soul. If you saved him, bound his soul to yours, he would never be truly free. As long as his soul was tethered to yours, fate would never stop hunting you both, its relentless pursuit a constant threat to your fragile happiness.

Tears burned down your cheeks, a river of sorrow, as you made your final choice, the ultimate act of love and sacrifice. One final spell, a powerful incantation that would erase everything, the past, the memories, the love that had endured beyond lifetimes.

Chan’s body glowed softly under your touch as the magic took hold, the light a gentle caress, a farewell. His pain faded, his wounds healed, but the price was heavy, a sacrifice that would leave a void in your soul.

When his eyes fluttered open, they were blank, devoid of recognition, empty of the love you shared. No memory of your touch, no echo of your laughter, no trace of the past that had bound you together.

You smiled through your tears, a bittersweet expression of love and loss, pressing one last kiss to his forehead, a silent farewell. "Be happy, my love," you whispered, your voice a gentle breeze.

And then you disappeared into the shadows, a wisp of magic, a ghost of a love that had been, watching from afar as he woke to a world where you had never existed, a world where he was free from the chains of your shared destiny.

Fate had stolen your love once, a cruel and unforgiving act. This time, you gave it away, a sacrifice born of love, a testament to the enduring power of your devotion.

[millers-girl]

what it takes

chapter 2 of willow & whiskey

a/n: thank you all so much for all the love the first chapter’s gotten 🫶🏼 ps: I ended up changing the title of the fic because I saw someone post another joel fic under a similar name and didn’t want any confusion :)

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: the trek to the state house begins... and ends in a way none of you expected.

warnings/tags: age gap, adult language, blood and violence, death

word count: 4.2k

series masterlist

When Ellie woke the next morning, head lifting from where it had been nestled in your lap, she found you already awake.

Your back rested uncomfortably against the bookshelf behind you, posture stiff, but your expression was calm – watchful but not hostile. Your gun was within reach, resting on the ground beside you, yet your hands never reached for it.

Joel and Tess sat in front of you, a safe distance away, mirroring your posture. Tess seemed at least composed; Joel, on the other hand, was tense, his gaze fixed on Ellie.

Despite the clear unease in the room, you offered Ellie a small, reassuring smile as she stirred awake. Your fingers brushed through her hair – a light touch that spoke volumes and comforted Ellie beyond belief.

"Morning," Ellie greeted, voice dripping with sarcasm when she turned to the smugglers. The moment she moved to stand and use the restroom, Joel's gun was up.

Without hesitation, you moved too – not for your gun, but to shield Ellie with your body.

"Jesus," you cursed, lifting your hand up in exasperation. "You're one of those shoot first, ask questions later kinda guys, huh?" 

Joel's glare flickered to you, but his grip on the gun didn't waver. You sighed, reaching down and pushing your own gun further away in an act of reluctant trust. There, you seemed to say. A truce.

You knew he wouldn't shoot – he couldn't. Ellie had made it through the night and if he didn't believe she was immune, he had to at least believe she wasn't going to turn. Her body resisted the bite.

Still, he didn't lower his weapon.

"Wow," you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest. "You must be a hoot during a trust exercise." 

Ellie rolled her eyes, moving to your side to try another approach. "Do I look infected?" 

"Show us your arm," Joel said flatly.

Ellie huffed but did as asked, rolling her sleeve up to reveal the same bite – unchanged.

Tess leaned forward, her tone more curious then accusatory. "What was Marlene doing with an infected kid?"

"She's not infected," you corrected gently. "We went to her when Ellie was bitten. Marlene had her tested every day to see if she was getting sick."

"Test her how?"

Ellie groaned, shifting from foot to foot. "I have to pee."

"Test you how?" Tess pushed, turning to the girl.

"They'd make me count to 10 and hold out my hand and then keep it steady. But, you know, I think what really impressed them was the fact that I didn't turn into a fucking monster. Now, can I please?" She asked, turning to you.

You hesitated, casting a glance at Joel – who was still gripping his gun like he expected Ellie to morph into a Clicker mid-sentence.

Your lips pressed together, but you turned back to Ellie, eyes softening. "Go ahead." 

Joel didn't move, but his grip tightened.

You sighed dramatically, giving him a look that was more amused than combative. "So she survived the night, which is as much proof as there possibly could be, and you still don't believe, old man?" 

Joel scowled. "Old man?" 

"Hey, if the shoe fits." You smirked before stepping back to stand watch near Ellie.

Joel muttered something under his breath, but his gun finally lowered.

As you leaned against the doorway, listening to Tess and Joel whispering amongst themselves – they were much louder than they thought they were being.

You could tell Tess was starting to believe you; she mentioned Ellie making it through the night without turning. Joel, however, was less convinced, stating they should sneak Ellie back into the QZ and find a different way to get the battery.

Ellie was done and walking back into the room before they could come to an agreement. 

Then, the four of you sat down and ate what you assumed to be lunch, considering you'd all slept through breakfast after the long, grueling journey the night before.

Now, in this abandoned office building you were in, the air was damp, smelled like concrete and mildew. You perched yourself on top of a mossy spot, stomach already grumbling.

"You two can share some of ours," Tess offered, holding out a pitiful-looking ration of dry, stale food.

You winced at the sight. "Thanks. Marlene sent us with our own."

Tess and Joel gnawed at their jerky—tough, unappetizing, and depressingly dry—while you and Ellie tore into your sandwiches, inhaling them. The stark contrast was almost embarrassing.

"Is that chicken?" Tess asked, eyes widened in something bordering reverence.

Ellie nodded mid-chew. "Marlene said they get it from smugglers... Guess not you guys."

You snorted at that comment, nearly choking on your bite.

"Why are you so important to Marlene?"

Ellie hesitated to answer, giving you the space to. "There's a Firefly base camp somewhere out west with doctors. They're working on a cure."

Joel hummed, low and unimpressed. "Mhm. I've heard this before."

"Whatever happened to Ellie – "

" – is the key to finding the vaccine," Joel finished in a deadpan mimic, as if he'd heard it a million times. "That's what this is about? Vaccines, miracle cures – none of it works. Ever."

"Hey, fuck you, man," Ellie snapped, bristling at his cynicism. "I didn't ask for this!"

"You and me both," he mumbled before turning to Tess. "This isn't gonna work. We need to go back."

Tess exhaled, rubbing at her temple before leveling him with a look. "Let's just finish it. Even if she is or isn't what the Fireflies believe she is, we'll get what we want."

Joel hesitated, jaw locking as silence stretched between you all. Then, with a begrudging nod, he turned to you and relented, "If she so much as twitches..."

Right on cue, Ellie let out a gurgling snarl, snapping her teeth together to mimic an Infected.

Joel's glare cut to you, and you swatted Ellie's arm to get her to stop. "She'll behave," you promised. "Okay?" You glanced between them, gaze lingering on Joel, trying to smooth the tension in the air. 

"Okay," he huffed in surrender, going to gather his pack so you all could begin the day's trek. 

As he grabbed his gun off the floor, Ellie immediately piped up, "Can I have a gun?" 

"Absolutely not," Joel growled, at the same time as you offered a soft, "Maybe when you're older." 

Ellie huffed. "Okay, Jesus, fine. I'll just throw a fucking sandwich at them." 

After packing up, Joel led the way outside, holding the door open as you passed through. You glanced up at him, murmuring a quiet, "Thank you."

It was a simple thing, but it still surprised him. He hadn't heard someone be so polite in a long time. He didn't know what to do with it. So, he simply grunted in response but retaking his position at the head of the group, beside Tess. 

Ellie, walking beside you, turned her head to take in the ruined city, her expression shifting from wary to awestruck. For the first time, she was seeing downtown in the daylight, and the sheer scale of it had her stunned into silence.

Your heart swelled seeing her take it all in; she was utterly in awe. It was a welcomed, rare view and you took a mental picture of the sight before nudging her.

"Cool, huh?"

She nodded eagerly, jaw still practically on the floor, eyes flickering across shattered windows, rusted cars, and vines creeping up twenty-story buildings. It was the quietest you'd ever seen her, just soaking in all the beauty the world still had.

Tess eventually informed everyone that the route to the State House required passage through a hotel. On the long walk there, Ellie kept nudging Tess with questions – about Infected, the bombings in the city when the outbreak happened, whatever she saw. It was clear she was starting to warm up to her. The same could be said for Tess, who did her best to answer all of Ellie's inquiries.

That meant you got stuck walking beside Joel. 

"Your watch isn't the only thing that's broken," you commented absently, eyes glued to the pair walking ahead.

Joel made a low noise in his throat. "Hmm?"

You motioned to his side. "Your hand."

He subconsciously tucked the hand out of view. "Oh. Maybe a hairline," he muttered. "It'll heal fast."

"It'll heal wrong," you corrected. "I've got some compression wrappings and anti-inflammitories in my pack. You can use them when we stop."

He studied you for a beat before asking, "You used to be a doctor in the QZ?"

A laugh slipped out before you could stop it, but your smile faltered quickly. "No, I just... I just read a lot."

Joel hadn't known you for that long, but he could tell you were a shitty liar. Still, he made the decent decision not to press.

"What'd you do before the outbreak?" You asked quietly, shifting the topic.

"I was a contractor," Joel answered. "Used to build houses, stores." 

"Did you like it?" 

He shrugged. "Paid the bills." 

Your brows furrowed at that. "You didn't have a dream job? Like, I don't know – CEO? Musician? Dad?" 

His gaze snapped at you at that last one. Dad? 

You shrugged. "My mom used to say it was a full-time gig."

Joel didn’t respond. He just walked in silence for a few moments before pivoting to Ellie, telling her to drink some water, making sure she stayed hydrated.

Tess took notice of the interaction, finding the corners of her lips twitching up ever so slightly. It was nice to see someone who still believed in small kindnesses.

She cleared her throat, asking, "Hey, nobody's gonna be coming after you two, right? Like, Mom... Dad... Boyfriends?"

You shared a quick look with Ellie before answering for both of you. "No." Your eyes dropped to the ground as you added, "No one's coming." 

The words sat heavy in the air.

"Hotel" was a generous word to describe the building entered; "swamp" was far more accurate. 

The air was thick with dampness, and a pool of stagnant, murky water stretched out in the lobby, complete with lily pads, frogs, and the occasional floating scrap of debris.

The waist-deep water was vile, seeping into your jeans and shoes, turning everything a miserable mossy green.

Ten floors up, your group hit its first obstacle: a jammed door. The only way through was for someone to climb over the adjacent rubble and clear the blockage from the other side.

Tess volunteered, which left you, Joel, and Ellie alone in the hallway.

After a few moments of silence, Joel eyed Ellie’s switchblade tricks. "Nice knife. Where’d you learn to do that?"

"The circus," she deadpanned, causing you to nudge her side, silently telling her to knock it off. "Where are you from?" Ellie forced the question out, trying to make small talk.

"Texas," he answered. And the moment he said it, you let out a snort.

Of course he was from Texas. He may not have oozed Southern charm but his accent easily gave him away. That, and how naturally gentlemanly he was – always opening doors for you girls when it was safe, going through them first when it wasn't; lending a steadying hand when you had to climb over a particularly tricky hurdle. Practical. Protective.

His gaze was immediately fixed on you, lips parting to speak before Ellie beat him to it. 

"What about Tess?"

"Detroit... it's in Michigan."

Ellie rolled her eyes. "I go to school. I know where Detroit is." A moment of silence passed before she continued. "So, uh, you and Tess like a – "

Joel cut her off. "Pass."

She huffed, then tried again. "How'd you end up in Boston?"

"Pass. No more questions about me."

You cut in then, interrupting. "You got to ask her about the knife. She gets a question."

"She evaded mine," Joel shot back.

"Calls himself old, but his memory is sharp as a whistle," you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Kid, you were the one who called me old," he corrected, one brow lifting. 

You shrugged. "Like I said – sharp as a whistle." 

Ellie spoke again when silence blanketed over your group. "How long do Infected live?"

Joel was quick to quip. "Oh, I thought you went to school."

You chuckled, ruffling Ellie's hair while she shrugged. "I never said it was a good school."

Still, Joel answered. "Some last about a month or two. But there's others been walkin' around 'bout twenty years."

"Ever kill one?"

"Yeah, I killed lots of 'em," Joel answered.

"Was it hard? Like, knowing they were people once?"

Your gaze flickered up to Joel then, waiting for his answer. 

He simply offered Ellie a shrug and a, "Sometimes."

"What about that guy last night?"

Before Joel could even begin to form an answer, Tess suddenly appeared on the other side of the door, pulling it open for you all to pass through.

"Saved by the bell," you sang as you shuffled past Joel – who, of course, held the door open for you. Gentleman.

The hike from the hotel to the museum—your next stop—was short. What awaited you inside, however, felt like a lifetime.

Even in its decrepit state, you were surprised by how much of the museum still stood. Most exhibits were intact, their artifacts frozen behind glass displays, covered in years of dust. It was eerie—like a ghost of the past stubbornly clinging on through infinite layers of dust, refusing to be forgotten.

Turning a corner from the visitor center, you suddenly froze. "Oh, shit," you breathed, taking a sharp step back.

Joel was at your side in an instant, gun and flashlight raised. It took only a second to register the sight before you – what was left of a security guard, his body torn apart, limbs at unnatural angles, as if something had tried to pull him in different directions at once.

"What the fuck did that?" Ellie gasped from beside you, making you turn her face into your chest to block the gruesome view from her. She didn't need to be scarred like that.

Your head snapped to Tess as she softly spoke, "Maybe... maybe he was attacked outside and crawled through the doors. Door was open – could've been him... I don't hear anything." 

"Who would you hear?" Ellie asked, pulling her head away from your chest to meet Tess's eyes.

Joel's hand immediately shot out in warning – an unspoken command to be quiet. Tess had gone stiff beside him, eyes scanning, body tense. 

Your stomach tightened. "What – did an Infected do that?" you whispered, your own eyes widening.

Tess and Joel shared a look before Joel turned to you and Ellie, voice low but firm. "Okay, from this point forward, we are silent. Not quiet – silent." Ellie went to open her mouth to ask why but your arm wrapped around her, hand clasping over her mouth. "No questions. Just do it." 

Ellie opened her mouth to ask why, but you were already wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pressing a hand lightly over her lips. She looked up at you, brows furrowed, and you simply nodded before letting go.

The group moved carefully through the museum, Tess bringing up the rear, keeping you and Ellie sandwiched safely between her and Joel.

Then, just as you reached the top of the stairs, the entire structure beneath you gave way.

The deafening crash sent dust and debris flying, shoving you, Tess, and Ellie onto the floor. You barely had time to scramble up before Joel’s hand was on your waist, pulling you up, steadying you. Your eyes shot up to meet his, lips going to form a grateful smile, until a screech echoed through the halls.

Joel and Tess's guns were immediately trained towards the clicking of the Infected, while you began to slowly pull Ellie back further into the room, creating some distance. Tess followed, then Joel.

Then the Infected.

Just one. 

Coming into the room and forcing your group up against a glass exhibit. Its loud screeching filled the room, which was otherwise quiet, save for Ellie's heavy breathing.

You reached out, hand on her shoulder, grounding her – silently pleading with her to stop breathing so loud.

You're okay, you mouthed to her, nodding encouragingly. 

The Infected rounded the glass case, coming around to Joel's side, oblivious. The moment Ellie's eyes caught the Infected, closer than she'd ever seen one, her breathing hitched, loudly. 

The Infected instantly turned to her, screeching loudly. Joel began to shoot at it, shouting for you to run, and you didn’t hesitate – grabbing Ellie’s wrist, dragging her through the room as Tess fired behind you. You stumbled over a display stand, the impact sending you sprawling.

"Run!" you shouted to Ellie, yanking your gun up and firing, taking down one of them just in time. You bolted, rounding the corner, breath ragged.

Rounding another corner, you spotted the beam of Joel's flashlight before you saw him, pressed up against another cabinet, reloading his gun.

Upon noticing you, he motioned you to him, letting you take his place against the cabinet as he continued to refill the chamber of his gun.

As if on queue, you heard the Infected nearby, quietly clicking.Your fingers curled into Joel’s jacket without thinking, pulling him closer. His body was tense, his heartbeat a wild rhythm against your skin. You tilted your head up, catching his gaze in the dim light. He was already looking at you.

A silent moment.

Then, his hand found your waist, pulling you even closer—steadying you both.

Carefully, you pressed your half-loaded gun into his palm, exchanging weapons without a word.

In the dark, your hand found his, exchanging his gun for yours, which was at least half-loaded.

Then, he nudged his head towards the exit sign in the far corner, and you nodded your head, quietly following after him, one hand clutching his jacket so you would't lose him.

You two shuffled along the perimeter of the room, only freezing when Joel accidentally stepped on some broken glass, the noise loudly ringing in your ears.

In a flash, the Infected was on you two. It knocked you both onto the ground, screeching as its claws scraped against your jacket. Joel kicked it off, scrambling up, but you were faster—your gun already raised.

One shot to the head. It dropped.

You waited a moment, ears perked, listening for more Infected. Hearing nothing, your slumped forward, forehead resting between Joel's shoulder blades.

"Oh, my God," you mumbled against his jacket, trying to catch your breath.

"You alright?" He asked from in front, gun still pointed at the only entrance to the room.

You nodded against his back before leaning your head back. "You?" 

He nodded, leading you out of the room. You met Tess and Ellie by the exit, where all of you climbed out of a window. While Tess sat down to tend to a twisted ankle, you and Ellie made your way across a wooden beam connecting the museum to another rooftop. 

You two took in the view of the setting sun before you, reflecting on the shiny gold dome of the State House – it was beautiful.

"That was insane," Ellie began, letting out a shaky laugh.

You nodded your head, heart just now beginning to beat regularly in your chest. "Are you okay?" 

She nodded, showing you her arm. "Just a scratch. Least I didn't shit my pants." 

"Proud of you," you teased, tousling her hair. 

A silence passed before Ellie said, "That was scary, huh?" You nodded your head. "It was me breathing too loud that caused all that... right?" 

You shrugged. "Probably would've been me tripping over something if you gave it enough time. Or Joel grumbling about how musty it was in there." That made her laugh. "You were just unlucky this time... You'll get better with more experience."

Soon, Joel joined your duo, also taking in the view.

"Is it everything you hoped for?" He asked Ellie, watching her take it all in.

"Jury's still out," she replied. "But, man, you can't deny that view." 

Your smile matched hers as you wrapped an arm around her, squeezing her close to you. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head before Tess came over, ready to make the home stretch of your trek.

As you neared the State House, you reached for Ellie's hand, giving it a squeeze. 

"You okay?" You asked. "Bit quiet." 

She nodded, but her eyes betrayed her, flickering to the fresh scratch on her arm. "What if – "

You were already shaking your head, reassuring her. "You're good," you said softly, voice steady and sure.

"How do you know?" 

"Because I'm your big sister. And big sisters know everything." 

She managed a small smile then, gripping your hand tighter as you walked the rest of the way.

The Firefly truck was parked outside, right where Marlene said it would be – only, there weren't any Fireflies in sight... until you rounded the other side of the truck.

One body, already starting to decay.

And a trail of blood, leading inside.

Tess stormed ahead, motioning for you three to follow.

The scene inside wasn't any better. More bodies, more blood, more death.

"What the hell happened?" you murmured, instinctively pulling Ellie closer as you took in the destruction.

Joel surveyed the room with narrowed eyes. "One of 'em got bit." He gestured toward patient zero, whose twisted corpse lay slumped against the wall. "Turned the others. Healthy ones fought the sick ones. Everyone lost."

You went to speak but were cut off by Tess rummaging through the leftover supplies, looking for a radio. Coming up short, she turned to Ellie and snapped, "Where did Marlene say that she was taking you?" 

"Uh, I don't know. Just west." 

"Just west – okay, fuck. Well, I mean, one of them's gotta have a map on them, right?" 

She dropped to her knees, flipping through the pockets of a dead Firefly. Your stomach twisted at the sight, eyes flickering over to Joel to find some repreieve. 

"Tess," he began, voice sharp. "It's over. We are going home." 

"It's not my fucking home!" she snapped, turning to look at him.

You tensed, stepping in front of Ellie. There was something in Tess's voice – desperation. Like a string pulled so tight it was about to snap.

She exhaled sharply. "I'm staying... Our luck had to run out sooner or later." 

"Fuck," Ellie muttered under her breath, making both you and Joel turn to her. "She's infected." 

Tess scoffed, yanking down her collar to reveal the ugly bite blooming on her neck. "Oops, right?" 

Your stomach dropped.

She turned to Ellie, softly asking her to take her bandage off. She did so, and her scratch was starting to heal, the redness nearly gone now. "Look, Joel, this is real. She's fucking real... I need you to get her to Bill and Frank's. They'll take the girls off your hands. They'll handle it from there."

Joel was already shaking his head. "No, no, no. I can't. They won't take 'em."

"They will," Tess insisted. "You'll convince them. And if you can't, she will." She turned to you, and your throat went dry. "She's sweet and good and kind. Frank will see that. I mean, you saw how he welcomed us; he'll roll the red carpet out for her." 

Neither you nor Joel could bring yourselves to speak. 

Tess turned back to Joel, voice trembling now. "I never ask you for anything... Not to feel the way I felt, not – " She stopped herself, inhaling sharply. "This is your chance. You get them there, you keep Ellie alive, and you set everything right. All the shit we did." She swallowed hard. "Please say yes, Joel. Please." 

Before he could respond, a rasping sound from behind made you snap around.

One of the Infected—half-crushed beneath another body—was waking, reaching blindly for Ellie.

You didn’t hesitate. You drew your gun and fired, but in doing so, the Infected's hand came to rest on a patch of cordyceps. Fuck.

As Tess had said, it grew underground, stretching long distances. And now that you had triggered It, you may have woken a dozen Infected from somewhere else. Now they knew where you were; they were coming.

Joel darted to the door, peeking outside to see a swarm of them running toward the State House.

"They're comin'," he said, rushing back over. "Maybe a minute." 

 Tess didn't waste a second. She pushing over a stack of barrels, oil spilling across the floor, then scattered grenades into the mess.

You watched silently as she did so, eyes filling with tears, throat burning as realization sank In.

"What are you doing?" Ellie asked, voice small.

"Making sure they don't follow you." 

Tess stepped closer to Joel, whispering something to him. Whatever it was, it made his face go blank, his eyes darkening with something heavy. And then, before Ellie could react, Joel grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the exit.

"We're not leaving her! Get off me!" She wailed, thrashing in his grip.

Joel barely glanced at you—just a brief flicker of his eyes, checking that you were following.

But you weren’t moving. Not yet.

You turned to Tess. She was already reaching for her lighter, hands steady.

"Thank you," you whispered.

Her lips twitched. Not quite a smile. Just the ghost of one.

Then you turned to follow after Joel. 

You barely made it a few yards before the explosion ripped through the air, a fireball swallowing the entrance to the State House. The force of it shook the ground, heat pulsing at your back.

Tess was gone.

Your group immediately felt smaller without her.

The weight of it settled heavy in your chest, pressing down, making it hard to breathe.

This was going to be the price of getting out west – you either made it or paid with your lives. Suddenly, the stakes seemed much higher than you'd ever anticipated. And, all you wanted to do was run back to your scrappy little QZ apartment and huddle under the covers until the storm passed.

Instead, you kept walking.

Because Ellie was still holding your hand.

And you weren’t letting go.

Not now. Not ever.

.

.

.

taglist: @orcasoul @lizlil @littleshadow17 @joeldjarin @mrsyixingunicorn10 @luvwanda @escaping-reality8

[redtsundere-writes]

Part 29: Meetings

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. Not Beta read.

Word Count:  5948 words.

A/N: I'm back <3 I'll be posting on Sundays :3

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

The chill on your back stirred you awake. Morning had finally arrived after a long night with your king. Still half-asleep, you reached out for the familiar warmth of your beloved—only to be met with empty sheets. Your eyes opened heavily to realize Sukuna was no longer by your side. Rubbing the sleep off your eyes, you sat up in bed with the sheet pulled up to your chest to cover your nakedness. A deep ache coursed through your body, but the memory of what caused it brought a knowing smile to your lips. At the foot of the bed, a breakfast tray waited beside a single white rose. Curious, you slid across the sheets, reaching for it—only to find a neatly folded note resting beside it.

“Good morning, daisy.

I hope you like breakfast.

I’ll see you in the office at noon.

Love, Sukuna.”

The euphoria manifested in your body with a squeal of excitement. You read the love note written by your king, rolling in the bed from side to side. You were so happy to finally be able to be with him. Hungry, you opened the tray to find the breakfast Sukuna had ordered for you.

"He's so cute!" You squealed tenderly before throwing yourself back onto the bed. "Ouch!" You complained, having slammed your aching body onto the mattress.

After eating breakfast and putting on the most low-cut dress you owned, you left your room. The sight of the hallway, lined with delicate white flowers, took your breath away once again. Each bloom was a silent testament to your king’s devotion, their soft petals glowing in the morning light. With a gentle touch, you plucked a single daisy, twirling it between your fingers before continuing on your way, the faint scent of blossoms lingering in the air.

"He loves me, he doesn’t love me, he loves me, he doesn’t love me..." You sang happily as you skipped down the corridor, like a bunny in the middle of spring running through a vast open field, sweetly shedding the flower petals with each step.

"Looks like someone's happy." Mr. Wasuke crossed your path.

“I still can't believe last night was real. It was dream like,” you said, besotted with love as you jumped around him.

“I'm glad. Congratulations on your engagement, kid.” Mr. Wasuke took your hand to inspect the engagement ring closely. “The king is a very lucky man.”

“I'll let him know. He's waiting for me in his office.” You smiled at him before leaving.

As you plucked the last soft white petal from the calyx, you paused, a quiet smile forming on your lips. He loves me. The thought warmed you from within, filling you with a contentment deeper than words. With delicate fingers, you removed the pistil from the stem to tie it like a small ring beneath the engagement ring. Your marriage to the king was no longer a deal to prolong his legacy; it was a pact of love that you would carry in your hearts for the rest of your lives.

Light as air, you made your way to the king’s office, your steps nearly weightless with joy. You knocked on the door until he granted you permission to enter. The moment you stepped inside, your heart swelled at the sight before you—Kenjaku, Mahito, and Uraume stood in attendance, but your gaze sought only one.

Your king.

You smiled at him, soft and sweet, the memory of his whispered words from the night before still lingering in your mind. Heat crept up your cheeks as you recalled the way he had looked at you, the way his voice had wrapped around you like silk.

Perhaps it was love’s lens that painted the world in softer hues, but today, Sukuna looked even more handsome than usual. His unruly hair was slicked back after being tousled on your pillows. His red gaze rested placidly on the documents as if he were looking down, only on you. The large hands that had taken over your body now held the pen he'd surely used to write you that beautiful note.

"Good morning," you said with a nervous smile, not out of fear, but rather out of love.

"You're late," Sukuna scolded you without taking his eyes off what he was doing.

“Oh no…” Your smile disappeared, not expecting such an aggressive tone. Your heart sank to the bottom of your chest. You apologized quickly before rushing next to the guests, forming a horizontal line. Your eyes looked at the floor at your disappointment no longer wanting to be just his useful object. 

Sukuna, finishing what he was doing, coldly inspected the guests. He quickly noticed the change in your attitude. At your disappointment, you clasped your hands together on your skirt, making your breasts look even more prominent in the cleavage. Sukuna bit his tongue as he remembered your breasts bouncing before his eyes as he fucked you. “Okay, calm down,” he begged his body, beginning to get excited. Despite having accepted his vulnerability for you, it was still hard to get used to it.

“I’ve summoned everyone to report to me on the two events that happened recently.” Sukuna began the meeting in an attempt to ignore his deep desires. "First, I want to hear what you have to report about the Zen'in ball."

"Commander Mahito and I, along with the camp, were able to study the area of ​​the Zen'in kingdom and made a detailed map." Kenjaku took a scroll from his sleeve to display it to the king. Sukuna didn't hesitate to open it. "The Zen'in kingdom is divided into two large zones: the sorcerer zone and then the zone full of monkeys. The sorcerer zone is the outer layer, then there's the monkey zone in the middle, and at the core is the area designated for the royal family."

"It's not actually divided, but it's organized that way to protect those who can't protect themselves from curses," Kenjaku explained.

"Although there are monkeys who carry cursed weapons and cursed monocles That could mean those humans can see curses," Mahito added.

"Very well. Good report." Sukuna rolled up the scroll and then inspected it closely. “Y/n, you certainly have a lot to tell me, don’t you?”

There you were again. Facing the king and his imposing chessboard. From the moment you decided to do everything necessary to protect the commune from the war, you knew this game would be dangerous. But there was no turning back. You had caused too much damage to allow yourself to hesitate now. Human lives hung in the balance, and you were willing to do whatever it took to win. You would tell him the truth, but never the whole truth. You took a deep breath, sat down, and, with the determination of someone who had already crossed the point of no return, moved the first pawn forward.

“Yes, there is a lot I must tell you.” You hid your nervousness behind a smile. “While you were in your meeting with King Toji, Queen Nozomi invited me to talk. She told me she's expecting her first child.” 

"It was about time," Kenjaku commented sarcastically in a whisper.

"What do you mean?" You thought it, but Sukuna said it.

"King Toji is almost forty; the older he is, the more difficult it is to have children." "40?! He looks so young!" you thought, surprised. "Maybe the queen isn't that fertile," Kenjaku hypothesized to himself this time.

"Y/n, continue,” Sukuna asked you to proceed. 

"After that brief conversation, Commander Naoya arrived, and the queen forced me to dance with him." You smiled to yourself, remembering his hateful glare at you. It helped you relax a little. "Then the dance was interrupted by King Gojo and King Nanami. I got to meet them both."

"And you sure did meet him," Sukuna muttered, jealous. “He’s still upset about it,” Kenjaku, Mahito, and you thought as if you shared a single mind. “What exactly did you talk about?”

You hadn’t moved any major pieces yet. Only pawns, advancing cautiously, one square at a time, protecting what was truly important. Each move was a shield, a distraction, a calculated sacrifice. Luckily, you’d spent countless hours pondering which pieces of information you should withhold, which truths to guard to turn to your advantage when the time came.

Then, you slid your rook across the board, a move designed to draw Sukuna’s attention away. If all went as you hoped, he’d stop focusing on your king: the secret of your cursed technique must still remain in the shadows.

“So, King Gojo mistook me for my sister.”

“He mistook you for Yorozu? It must be your energy,” Kenjaku theorized.

“My energy?” You asked, confused, worried that you had accidentally revealed something.

“Gojo has the power to see people’s energy levels. Being sisters, you must share a similar energy level,” he explained. “So if Gojo mistook her for Yorozu, it must be because Y/n must have high levels of cursed energy. That means Y/n definitely has a technique,” ​​Kenjaku thought. “What did you talk to King Gojo about?”

“Besides flirting with me and kissing me without my consent…”

Out of nowhere, you were pulled out of your mind when Kenjaku’s hand flew to your cheek. Everyone in the room flinched at the impulsive act. You looked at Kenjaku in horror, but he also looked just as horrified that his hand was reaching out to hit you. You closed your eyes, expecting the tremendous slap you were about to receive, but someone pulled you by the waist to move you away from danger. It was Uraume.

A slash echoed through the room. Kenjaku's head flew out and bounced off the floor. The body of the deceased King Geto collapsed to the ground thanks to the nature of gravity. Sukuna had his hand raised, a sign that he had cut off your teacher's head. You didn't know what the hell was happening; everything had happened so fast that your mind didn't register what had happened in the first few seconds. 

"Damn, that was… something, wasn’t it?" Mahito whispered, impressed.

"Are you okay?" Sukuna asked you, tucking his arm into his kimono.

You could only stare in shock. You looked at your Kenjaku's body lying on the floor. There wasn't a single drop of blood staining the black tile pattern. His eyes remained open, expressionless. You realized how calm you were about the situation. You were starting to get used to death, and it terrified you.

"Don't worry. He's not dead," Sukuna reassured you. "Continue what you were saying." You took a deep breath and returned to the game as if nothing had happened.

"I was going to say we didn't talk much, he just courted me. It was very strange. He seemed desperate." 

"Why do you think that?"

"He flirted with me shamelessly and even proposed to me a few hours after we met him, I don't know why. It made me feel uncomfortable," you explained.

"Anything else?" Sukuna inquired.

So far, you had survived the game only by moving pawns and sacrificing your rook, King Gojo's marriage proposal. You still had Nanami's offer of help and the discovery of your technique to yourself, but this game wasn't over yet.

"That's all, my king."

"Good. Now let's move on to the next topic of this meeting. The crow bombing from a week ago." Sukuna granted Uraume permission to take the floor.

"Last week after midnight, a flock of bomb crows attacked the first and second floors where I and other curses were standing guard. Unfortunately, I was knocked out and woke up a few hours later when the crows had already left. After that, I went to check on the lady," Uraume reported. 

"Do you know the purpose of the attack?" Sukuna asked.

"Yes. The next morning, I went to check on the weapons room, and 50 cursed weapons were missing. My hypothesis is that the attack was a distraction while the robbery took place," Uraume explained. 

"Do you have anything to contribute?" Sukuna turned to you.

"I was so scared by the bombing that I didn't see anything Uraume hadn't already said. So no," you answered.

"Uraume, do you have any idea who could have been behind all this?" Sukuna saw.

"Due to the proximity, it was most likely the commune, my king," Uraume suggested.

This was the tricky part of phase 2 of your plan: protecting the commune from accusations of the bomb crow attack. You were sure Hiromi had already hidden Mei Mei pretty well by this point, but it was up to you to do most of the dirty work.

"What?" you asked, confused, putting on your best face of disinterest. "But they were bomb crows. How could someone from the commune do that?"

"Maybe there are sorcerers there that we haven't discovered," Uraume argued.

"I highly doubt it. People in the commune don't believe in sorcerers," you argued.

"They don't need to believe for them to exist." Uraume had an excellent point; luckily, you were already prepared for this situation.

"What if it was someone from another kingdom?" You redirected the conversation.

"Why would another kingdom go to such a fuss just to steal cursed weapons?" Sukuna tried to follow your train of thought.

"Maybe it's a message, a warning that they can come in and take what they want."

Sukuna remembered the warning King Toji had given him at the ball. "If you don't make that deal with me, you'll leave me no choice but to take what I want by force." Maybe your hypothesis wasn't as crazy as it initially seemed.

"That doesn't make any sense," Uraume argued.

"Your hypothesis doesn't make sense either," you replied.

"Your sister turned out to be a sorceress."

"But it was because she found out when she came here."

"Enough," Sukuna ordered. They both looked at each other reluctantly, but obeyed immediately. "Until there's concrete evidence, your hypotheses have equal value. I'll investigate the commune first, then the Impossible Belt to look for leaks in our security." 

“Go to the Judge. He knows everything about everyone and can give you the answers you need to solve this case,” you advised.

“Do you know the Judge?” Sukuna raised an eyebrow. That took him by surprise.

“He’s my friend. If you tell him you come because I sent you, I’m sure he’ll cooperate,” you said with a smile. “Just friends?” Sukuna thought, jealous.

“Fine, I’ll do that tomorrow. Does anyone have anything else to say?” Faced with the silence, Sukuna decided to end the meeting. “Then we’re done here. You may leave now. Uraume locks Kenjaku in his room. I’ll interrogate him as soon as he recovers.”

This chess game finally came to a halt, but you were worried that at some point you’d have to resume the game. It was tiring, but it was the right thing to do. One by one, everyone bowed their heads in farewell. Uraume instructed Mahito to carry the body, while they took the head. The curse obeyed without hesitation, heaving the corpse onto his shoulder as if it were a simple sack of potatoes, then followed in his loyal companion's footsteps. You stayed behind, being to be the last to leave so you could close the door behind you. But then, the king spoke again.

"Y/n, we still have something to discuss."

"Yes, my king." You complied, closing the door behind you and returning to your place. You were ready to resume the power play. 

"Come closer," he commanded with his index finger.

You circled the desk to reach him. He gently took your hand to guide you onto his lap. Your cheeks turned crimson as he forced you to sit on it. His arms held you close to his body, melting into the pleasure of sharing the same space in the world. His lips searched for your warm face in your hair, kissing your temple sweetly. You let yourself be carried away by his touch, returning to the tender girl who gave him anything he wanted on a silver platter. 

"How was your sleep, my daisy?" Sukuna whispered in your ear.

"Wonderful, and you?" You smiled at the soft tickling of your skin.

"The best night's sleep I've ever had."

Sukuna took your chin and redirected you to his lips, placing a tender kiss on them as his hands traveled over your curves, accentuated by the corset.

"You scared me. I thought you'd be cold with me again," you reproached him as you broke the kiss.

"I'm sorry, I just have an image to maintain with my subjects." Sukuna took your hand and kissed your knuckles. "Besides, only you can see my vulnerable side."

That was what you loved about Sukuna; he always made you feel like the only girl in the world deserving of love and devotion. He could be the devil himself, but he made you feel like an untouchable goddess.

"So what do you want to talk about, my king?" you asked curiously.

"I already told you, you can call me Sukuna." The king rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, I'm not used to it yet. What do you want to talk about, Sukuna?" You giggled, embarrassed at using his first name.

"We need to plan a wedding," Sukuna reminded you. "Ask for whatever you want, I'll give it to you. The only thing I'm asking is that I want the wedding to be in a month."

"Just a month? What's the urgency?" you asked worriedly.

"I have... plans," Sukuna said.

You knew it was about the war. He didn't know, but he'd given you an idea of ​​the timeframe his plans were going. "Maybe I should check his planning again," you thought, scanning the office to figure out where he might have hidden it.

"Okay, we'll be married in a month." You nodded.

"Perfect. I can't wait." Sukuna finally moved his hands to your breasts and squeezed them like two stress balls.

"Ow! Careful!" You squealed in shock as your face turned a new shade of red.

"Can you blame me? They stared at me the entire meeting," he said before squeezing your breasts again.

"Sukuna!" You scolded him.

➽──────────────❥

The Gojo Kingdom was the most prosperous of all, a spectacle of unparalleled wealth and splendor. Silver lanterns danced over the white onyx streets, reflecting the light in an ethereal glow. Tall marble buildings rose gracefully, while nobles and merchants wandered wrapped in kimonos and robes of embroidered silk, each thread telling a story of lineage and power. Gojo was a kingdom where tradition and innovation intertwined in perfect balance, home to sorcerers, eccentrics, and those who pushed the boundaries of both worlds.

It wasn't the first time Commander Naoya had set foot in the Gojo Kingdom, but he had yet to accustom himself to the imposing grandeur of its castle. His eyes scanned the crystal colossus, whose structure rose to disappear into the clouds, as if seeking to touch the domain of the gods. Two majestic and stalwart silver towers guarded the fortress, gleaming in the sun with an almost divine brilliance.

"It's impressive what we humans can accomplish, isn't it?" King Toji mused aloud before patting the commander on the shoulder. "We're the last to arrive at the meeting."

King Toji and Naoya strode forward toward the castle entrance, flanked by Queen Nozomi and the other members of the feared the Hei, an elite group made up of four of the Zen'in family's finest sorcerers, each with skills that challenge the limits of magic and strength.

Next to Naoya walked Ranta Zen'in, his younger cousin, a sorcery prodigy. His technique allowed him to capture his opponent's movements as long as both eyes were fixed on him, a technique as lethal as it was relentless. At his side, Jinichi, the eldest of the cousins, was renowned not only for his brutality in combat, but also for his fists, whose power could split rock with a single blow. Closing the formation was Chojuro, one of Naoya's uncles, a veteran whose name inspired both respect and fear. He was the oldest of the Zen'in, and with that, the bearer of knowledge and experience few could match.

The Zen'in were greeted and guided through the castle to the meeting room by one of the Gojo's most loyal servants, Misato Kuroi, the current guardian of Princess Riko Amanai. Naoya knew her quite well. During the last winter ball, when he tried to meet the princess, the servant wouldn't let him get close due to her bad reputation with women. Miss Misato, despite being very friendly and calm, could turn into a terrifying beast when it came to the princess's safety.

"By any chance, will the princess be at the meeting?" Naoya asked Misato just to annoy her.

"No," Misato snapped, glaring at him before turning around and heading back to the entrance.

Naoya smiled triumphantly at his accomplishment and followed the others into the hall. The meeting room was a well-lit room with a wonderful view of the kingdom. There was a large round table in the center where almost all the kings of the world were seated. King Toji and his queen sat next to King Geto and King Yaga. Despite the large crowd, no one spoke. Not until King Gojo arrived. 

Naoya scanned the room until he caught the eye of Ino Takumi, King Nanami's first commander. He always wore a black military uniform with his golden plates gleaming on his shoulder, along with a ridiculous cap covering his brown hair. Ino hated Naoya for the same reasons as most of his enemies for being a conceited, selfish, sexist. He had the misfortune of working with him on a mission once, and he hoped it would be the last. The two glared at each other and then ignored each other.

"Why are you so serious? Who died?" Gojo made his grand entrance with an off-the-cuff comment, as always.

He entered the room and sat in his usual chair. Behind him were Ichiji, his personal assistant, and Shoko Ieri, his main commander. Naoya found the woman very attractive, but she had a rather tiresome attitude, so it would never occur to him to chase after her.

"Okay. I get it. They're a bunch of bores who only come to do business." Gojo rolled his eyes under his mask and sat up straight. "So let's get started. Sukuna Ryomen..."

Everyone knew in one way or another about the curse king's presence at the Zen'in dance. Even though more than three weeks had passed, the topic was still on everyone's lips due to the magnitude of the strange event and how it didn't start a war. Half of the people criticized King Toji for doing the outrageous thing of inviting Sukuna to the dance, the number one enemy of humans, when he's supposed to protect humans. The other half applauded his intentions of inclusiveness and making a rumored peace treaty with the curses. In the end, it all came down to speculation.

"...had a meeting with King Toji during your anniversary dance. Could you share what you two were talking about?" Gojo questioned the king in front of everyone.

Toji relaxed in his seat, looking directly at Gojo with an offended smile for trying to make him look bad. Although their ancestors had signed a peace treaty and alliance centuries ago, the current kings were no longer very supportive of it because they realized their peers had been hiding highly valuable information.

"A negotiation that failed. I have no direct relationship with King Sukuna," Toji declared, creating a commotion in the room.

"What kind of business?" King Geto asked curiously.

Naoya glanced out of the corner of his eye at poor King Sogo Geto, a father who lost his only son and future king of his lands three years ago. A true tragedy, as his death remained a complete mystery. It was unknown if anyone would ever know who had murdered his son in his sleep. So he had to resume his position as king despite the fact that he was consumed by mourning more and more each day. It was unknown what the future held for the Geto kingdom if the old king didn't declare a new king soon.

"To make a trade for him to give me the key to the Kamo Kingdom," King Toji replied.

Some people laughed or whispered passive-aggressive comments. Getting the Kamo to cooperate with them was practically impossible as things stood. The Kamo were too busy preventing the curses from invading them and finding ways to save their own people from Sukuna's clutches, while the other kingdoms were too cowardly to help them, wanting to avoid a war and losing their largest source of income.

"And you were going to trust the king of curses? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Gojo commented with a mocking smile.

"I think you're even stupider for proposing to his companion after just one night of knowing her," Toji finished him off.

Naoya smiled as he saw Gojo's smile disappear when he realized the Zen'in had spied on him that night. The whispers turned to complaints, prompting King Gojo to give an answer about his intentions. King Toji relaxed again in his seat and took his wife's hand under the table to let her know everything would be okay.

"What? A man can't fall in love with a beautiful lady at first sight?" Gojo asked, offended.

Nanami held his forehead, embarrassed by the cringe he was experiencing. "Is that really your reason?" he wondered as the other kings mocked his friend. They all knew how strict the Gojo clan is about who they allow into their lineage. They must usually be royalty or extremely wealthy, so the idea that King Gojo would want to marry King Sukuna's servant was hilarious.

"Save your excuses, King Gojo. It's known you saw something in that girl that we can't," Toji said.

"You're right. I lied." Gojo sighed in resignation. "I'm also a little embarrassed that my negotiation failed as well."

Gojo knew he was cornered thanks to a spy inside the Zen'in castle. He'd been so busy flirting with you that he didn't notice the presence of a secret ninja.

"So, can you tell us what you saw in her?" King Yaga asked directly, speaking for the first time since the session began. 

King Yaga had his typical unfriendly face and his sunglasses on despite being indoors. Things between King Yaga and King Gojo were somewhat strained due to a marriage that didn't seem to want to mend between Princess Riko Amanai and the ancient chief commander of the Yaga kingdom, Tengen. This had worsened their relationship in recent years.

Gojo smiled. "Greatness. That's all I can say."

The kings looked at each other, confused by such a vague answer, while Naoya instantly realized the true meaning behind his words.

➽──────────────❥

The allies' meeting had finally concluded, and the Zen'in were beginning their return to their kingdom. Night was descending on the forest, their shadows lengthening through the trees as they left the city behind. The commander was dangerously silent during tea time with the other kings, his mind caught in a whirlwind of thoughts. King Gojo's words echoed over and over in his head. "That has to be it. There's no other reason." He couldn't ignore it. And, worst of all, a part of him feared the king was right.

"King Gojo approached Y/n because she was Kamo, but he proposed to her because of her technique. That must be the only reason," Naoya explained to King Toji and Queen Nozomi once they returned to the carriage to begin their journey home.

"Her technique? Was King Gojo impressed by her technique?" The king asked, perplexed that the most powerful king in the world would be impressed by anyone other than Suguru Geto, his late best friend.

"It seems to be a concentration technique like Ranta's, but King Gojo told him it might be enough to defeat Sukuna," Naoya replied.

"Oh, I would have loved to meet her at the dance. We could have talked about our techniques while we danced," Ranta muttered in disappointment.

"That's the thing. She only discovered her technique thanks to King Gojo," Naoya explained with his arms crossed, somewhat jealous of the idea of ​​you dancing with his cousin.

"She could be our key to the commune, then," Touji thought aloud in a eureka moment.

"I don't think it's that easy," Nozomi opined. "She's very much in love with her king. I doubt she'd want to collaborate with the enemy."

"But not enough to sneak out of the dance on her own." Naoya argued.

Naoya had spent countless nights replaying the last time they'd seen each other. Something about that last encounter in the dark hallway unsettled him, as if it had all been part of a plan meticulously laid out from the beginning. As if you'd planned your escape from Sukuna from the start and he'd only been a hindrance in your way.

You were the most dazzling woman at the ball, the one who captured everyone's attention. But also the most enigmatic. A riddle wrapped in silk and shadows, a joyful conundrum that seemed to have a simple answer... but whose true meaning eluded him.

"She's up to something," Naoya simply blurted out, giving up trying to understand you.

"What if you go check it out?" Ranta inquired.

"What?" Naoya asked, confused.

"Yes. You can return to Sukuna's kingdom to get more information from him..." His cousin echoed his suggestion, his eyes glittering. "...and confess your feelings to her while you're at it," Ranta whispered mischievously as he nudged him.

"Feelings?! What feelings?!" Naoya exclaimed, offended, his cheeks flushed.

"Do you like Y/n?" Queen Nozomi inquired excitedly.

"Of course not!" Naoya defended himself.

"You draw her naked." Ranta aired his dirty laundry, making Naoya look like a tomato.

"It's called art, you little jerk!" Naoya scolded him before lunging at him to choke him.

"Stop it!" Toji roared, to which the two boys immediately obeyed. "Ranta's idea isn't so bad..."

Since the peaceful negotiations with King Sukuna had failed, Toji had to think of new ways to enter the Kamo commune without starting a war… yet. This was an opportunity he wasn't going to waste.

"Naoya, do you think you can infiltrate Sukuna's kingdom again?" Touji asked her.

"I've done it for five years straight. One more time won't be difficult," Naoya declared confidently.

"Good. Then your new mission will be to find that girl and convince her to collaborate with us before King Gojo gets there." The king ordered.

"Yes, my king," Naoya bowed.

"Take Ranta with you," Nozomi advised. "If she has a similar technique and doesn't know how to use it yet, you could convince her with a few lessons in sorcery."

"That's a great idea, darling." King Touji took his wife's hand to kiss its knuckles. "Yes, take Ranta with you."

"Great! I've always wanted to see Sukuna's kingdom," Ranta exclaimed excitedly.

"Then we'll get off here," Naoya said as he opened the carriage door.

"Good luck, and report back as soon as you have news." Touji gave them his blessing.

Naoya and Ranta jumped out of the moving carriage and left their group, heading toward the curse realm. Even though Naoya was the fastest of the Zen'in, Ranta could easily keep up. Since they were already close to the Impossible Belt, they could make it by the afternoon of the next day. The journey would be difficult, but not impossible with Ranta by their side. Even though I didn't want to admit it, I was excited that this mission involved seeing you again.

➽──────────────❥

Even though Sukuna had spent the afternoon talking with you about the wedding and receiving pampering from you, he still couldn't forget the savage act Kenjaku had committed during the meeting. Even though he was annoyed with him, he couldn't deny seeing Kenjaku's frightened face when he realized what he was about to do. He needed answers. If they didn't satisfy him, he would kill him immediately. I could always get you another teacher and doctor.

Sukuna entered his room, catching him off guard. Kenjaku got up from his office chair and knelt in front of him, hiding his embarrassed face in his hands. That wouldn't be enough to save his life.

"I'm so s-" Kenjaku's sentence was cut off by a kick from Sukuna that pierced his face.

Kenjaku's head began to wobble, dizziness blurring his vision. But the true horror came when relentless fingers sank into the roots of his hair. Sukuna lifted him with insulting ease, as if he weighed no more than a rag doll.

Kenjaku's feet were suspended in the air, kicking in vain. The pressure was unbearable, a searing pain running from his scalp to the base of his skull. His nose began to bleed in thick crimson trickles, blood trickling from his lips as the King of Curses held him at eye level, staring down with cold, utter cruelty. There was no escape. No plea. Only the abyss reflected in Sukuna's eyes.

"Who the fuck gave you permission to speak, lapdog? From now on, you will only speak when I give you permission, do you understand?" Sukuna growled. Kenjaku raised his hand to indicate "yes" with his finger. "Good doggy." Now, why the fuck did you dare lay a finger on my beloved? Speak up.”

“It wasn’t me, my king. It was King Geto,” Kenjaku replied. Sukuna frowned at that explanation. “I have no reason to hit my favorite student, but it seems King Geto didn’t like Y/n kissing his lover.”

“Was King Geto King Gojo’s lover?” Sukuna asked angrily, but quickly dismissed the question when he realized there was an even bigger problem. “You mean King Geto can control you whenever he wants?!”

“More than control, it seems your body gained a second of consciousness. It won’t happen again, I swear.” Kenjaku sobbed for his life, tried to grab the king’s kimono in a desperate act, but ended up backing down.

“Lucky you’re useful to me.” Sukuna pulled him up close to his face so he could look directly into his eyes. "If you dare touch a single hair on my wife's head, I'll cut you into pieces and feed you to the pigs, do you hear me?" Sukuna threatened.

"Yes, my king," Kenjaku replied in a shaky voice. Sukuna slammed him against the nearest wall before retreating.

"Starting tomorrow, you'll only be allowed to leave this room for Y/n's lessons and medical appointments. I'll kill you if I see you slinking away like the rats I detest so much," Sukuna threatened before leaving his room.

Kenjaku remained on the floor, defeated, weak... humiliated. Every throb in his head was a reminder of his powerlessness, every gasp of air, an insult to his pride. With a trembling hand, he wiped the blood from his nose with the sleeve of his robe, as if with that gesture he could erase the shame of his disloyalty.

His teeth ground together. No. This was just an obstacle, a passing shadow on the path he had carved for centuries. He could bear it. He must bear it. His fingers balled into fists over the bloody cloth. This was temporary. One more stone on the path to his destiny. Soon, very soon, he would rise again.

And when he did, there would be no one to stop his plans.

Masterlist.

taglist:

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(let me know if you want to be tagged in next chapters!)

[shigarakins]

i remember when the bodysnatching happened and how hardly anyone else in the fandom (or what i saw of the fandom) seemed to find it as horrifying as i did. then the same thing happened again with the mind invasion. and yes the fact that the mind invasion happened at all and not even the story gave much of a fuck about the fact that it did is still one of biggest gripes with the finale

[derealizationns]

"intimacy"

characters - katsuki bakugou x fem reader

synopsis - katsuki’s tough facade crumbles as soon as you two are together, and he loves every second of it.

genre - fluff!!! so much fluff 🥹

warnings - none 🫧

katsuki loves intimacy. he definitely won’t show it, but he’s all for it. that boy is so used to being tough and everything, that it makes him crave those tender and gentle moments.

just imagine simple things like making dinner. the world seems silent, the only things you can hear are the shuffles of yours and katsuki’s slippers and the raindrops hitting the roof of your shared home. bakugou is chopping food on the counter, with you sitting beside him on top of the island, swinging your legs and just observing his movements.

your presence brings him so much comfort, though you aren’t even doing anything special. just the feeling of domesticity makes katsuki experience some weird warm sensation in his chest. he subconsciously smiles at that. it’s a faint smirk, but you still notice it.

after jumping off the countertop, you wrap your arms around his chest and place your head on his muscular back. he huffs with fake annoyance, but in reality, this gesture makes him incredibly happy.

“whatcha doin’, idiot?” he asks.

you roll your eyes at his question.

“i’m showing love to my incredibly strong boyfriend, don’t pretend that you don’t like it.”

at that moment, katsuki shuts up. he can’t lie to your pretty face, that would be cruel, so he just decides to remain silently enjoying your presence and warmth.

some other day, you are lying under the covers with your boyfriend. it’s saturday afternoon, meaning that you two have a day off, just for yourselves. bakugo decided that both of you should watch a movie that just came out, but truth be told, he didn’t even pay attention to it. the boy is simply staring blankly at the tv, visibly deep in thought. you quickly notice his weird behavior and decide to bring it up.

“kats?” you start.

his attention quickly switches to you, bright red eyes staring into yours curiously.

“what’s wrong?” the question falls from your lips.

his expression changes to one of slight shock. perhaps bakugou didn’t realize that he was visibly zoning out, or maybe he just didn’t expect you to mention it. after a few seconds of silence, bakugo finally speaks up.

“nothin’ is wrong, why you askin’?”

you sigh at his words. he is clearly hiding something from you. just when you wanted to scold him for his obvious lie, he speaks again.

“just thinkin’… ’bout how much i love you, i guess…” he starts, but he’s not looking at you anymore; his eyes are fixed on the ceiling. bakugo feels so embarrassed after he says this. the boy silently curses himself for speaking up.

you look at him confused but can’t deny the warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest. katsuki wasn’t the one to express his love so directly, and that took you aback.

“every memory i have with you makes me feel… weird. like, not bad weird, just… puzzled, i guess? i’ve never felt that way, so it’s hard to exp—” you cut off his rambling before he finishes.

“i know what you mean, kats. every moment, even the simplest and most boring one, stirs up something within you, am i right?”

your boyfriend sends you a shocked look. he didn’t expect you to read his emotions so well. you just said everything right! how is that possible? did you read his mind or something? or maybe… it was because those were the same feelings you have…?

“yeah… i think you’re right…” he mumbles, visibly embarrassed by this conversation, so you think it’s time to cut it off.

“but it’s a good feeling, right? like you’re not… overwhelmed?” you ask him worriedly.

katsuki shoots you a look that you think was supposed to be scolding.

“what? no, you idiot. it’s… it’s good, i like it.”

you smile at his words and tuck yourself closer to him, bathing in his warmth.

“that’s good…” you whisper and feel yourself slowly doze off, as bakugou leaves a soft kiss on your forehead.

you sleep soundly, dreaming about every soft and domestic moment you had with katsuki. and there were many more to come.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ kirara’s notes . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

thank you for reading this, hope you liked it! likes, follows and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🤍🫧

[greengoblinswifey]

Game of Fate—Hwang In-ho/Front Man x Fem!Reader

summary— After discovering that you, a girl he had a one night stand with entered the deadly games, the Front man disguised as a player 001, infiltrates the games under the guise of monitoring Gi-hun but his focus becomes protecting you at all costs. based on this request.

warnings— none! fluff undertones, slight angst, season 2 spoilers, usual squid game chaos, in-ho being protective and possessive(he has a heart) <3

In-ho sat in his private quarters, the screens in front of him displaying the death and desperation of the games. His attention drifted from one player to the next until his eyes fell on you. A bolt of recognition shot through him. It was you, his one night stand from years ago, someone who had left a mark on him in ways he hadn’t expected.

He remembered every detail about you, your wit, your boldness, and the way you made him feel alive, even if just for one night. It infuriated him to see other players whispering in your ear or lingering too long in your space. His possessiveness surprised even him. You had been the best fuck he ever had, and seeing you here now stirred something he couldn’t ignore.

That’s when he made a decision.

By the time you met “Young-il,” the newest player in the games, you couldn’t place why he seemed familiar. His face was shadowed by the chaos of your surroundings, and you had no time to dwell on it.

“You,” he said, approaching you during a moment of uneasy rest.

Your eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?”

“You could say that,” have a sly smile, “Call me Young-il.”

You tilted your head, trying to recall where you might have met him. There was something about him, his confidence, his presence, that struck something. Still, you shrugged it off. “Okay, Young-il. Hope you know what you’re doing here.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage.”

You didn’t realize he was watching your every move.

During one of the more grueling games, you faltered. The sound of gunfire rang out as players dropped like flies, and your heart pounded. You’d made a critical mistake, one that should have cost you your life.

You braced yourself for the inevitable, but nothing happened. The guards moved past you, their guns silent. You stood frozen, confused, but grateful.

In-ho, hidden behind the mask of a player, allowed himself the briefest sigh of relief. His influence was subtle but effective, you were still alive, and he’d made sure of it.

Later, as the remaining players rested, he approached you again.

“You were lucky out there,” he said, sitting down next to you.

“Mhmm. Don’t know how I pulled that off,” you said as you glanced at him, still shaken from the day’s events.

“You’ve got more lives than a cat.”

“Or someone’s watching over me,” you joked.

He smiled faintly, hiding how true your words were.

As the games continued, his protectiveness grew. When another player made a sly comment about your appearance, he was quick to cut in.

“Keep your eyes on the prize,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The player backed off, muttering under his breath, while you arched an eyebrow.

“You don’t need to fight my battles,” you said sassily.

“I wasn’t fighting,” he said as he leaned closer.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the faint smile tugging at your lips.

In-ho found himself conflicted. He hadn’t planned to step into the games, let alone risk his identity. But seeing you here, vulnerable yet determined, pulled at something deep within him. And when you finally cornered him one night, your wary gaze demanding answers, he knew he couldn’t stay in the shadows forever.

“You’re not just another player, are you?” you asked, your voice steady but your eyes searching his.

He hesitated, then smiled. “What do you think?”

“I think you’ve got secrets. But shit, me too. Let’s survive this first.”

“Deal,” he said.

He couldn’t stop himself from watching you, protecting you, and falling deeper into the very thing he tried to avoid. The very thing he said he wasn’t there for. Wasn’t he there to target Gi-hun?

Young-il seamlessly integrated himself into the group with Gi-hun and the rest, his calm demeanor and quick thinking making him reliable. Despite his apparent calmness, his sharp gaze constantly flicked to you. He positioned himself strategically, always close enough to step in if anything went wrong.

Gi-hun often exchanged glances with Jung-bae, silently questioning why Young-il seemed more concerned about you than the games themselves. But they never voiced their suspicions, after all, his protectiveness benefited the group.

Young-il wasn’t subtle about his priorities. When Thanos, one of the annoying and aggressive players, approached you with a smirk and a comment about how “a pretty thing like you shouldn’t be here,” Young-il’s jaw tightened.

“Walk away,” he said, his voice cold.

“Relax, man. Just talking—” Thanos chuckled nervously.

“I said, walk away.”

Before Thanos could respond, Young-il took a step forward, fists clenched, his eyes dark. Thanos scrambled back, muttering curses under his breath.

You crossed your arms and shot him a look. “I didn’t need you to step in. I could’ve handled that.”

“I wasn’t going to let him near you.”

When the lights went out, the dormitory turned into chaos. You barely managed to sleep, anxiety gnawing at you. But Young-il stayed awake, his body perched against the wall near your makeshift bed. His eyes, though heavy with exhaustion, remained trained on the room, scanning for any sign of danger.

At one point, you stirred, catching his silhouette in the dim light. “You’re not sleeping?”

“Not tired,” he lied, his voice soft.

“You should rest. I’m fine.”

“I’ll rest when this is over. Someone has to make sure you’re safe,” he said as he shook his head.

His words lingered in the air, and you turned away, confused by his constant concern.

When food rations arrived, Young-il always ensured you had enough, sometimes splitting his share without you noticing. If you hesitated to eat, he nudged the portion toward you.

“Eat,” he insisted once, placing his biscuit in your hand.

“I’m not a damsel in distress,” you said. “I don’t need you to babysit me.”

“I’m not babysitting,” he replied. “I’m keeping you alive.”

In the third game, players had to quickly form groups based on the number the organizers called, and with each failed attempt, the penalty was being shot to death. Fear ran high, and each moment felt like it could be your last.

You were with Young-il, trying to keep calm as the guards shouted the numbers. The merry go round platform spun as everyone scrambled to form groups and find a room, but it quickly turned chaotic. Someone tried to push past you, their eyes wild with desperation, and before you could react, Young-il was already stepping in.

His face was hard, his eyes cold as he grabbed the man by the collar, dragging him to the back of the room. The man’s protests were cut short as Young-il raised his hands and broke his neck, ending his life. The room fell silent for a moment before the countdown ended.

You froze, shock creeping into your body as you realized what had just happened. You hadn’t expected him to kill so easily, even after all the brutality you’d witnessed in the games. His gaze softened when he turned to you, seeing the fear in your eyes. He stepped closer, his hand resting on your shoulder.

“I know this is hard,” he whispered, his voice gentle compared to the violence he had just shown. “But you need to understand, this place doesn’t have mercy.” He looked down at you, his hand reaching up to cup your face, brushing away the few tears that had fallen. “It’s gonna be okay, I’m here.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words as he pulled you into his chest. The harsh reality of the games had taken root in you, but with him, you knew, even if just for a minute, you wouldn’t have to do it alone. His feelings for you were clear, he wanted you to survive, to make it out of this, and he was determined to ensure that you would.

During the dark night when the O Team launched their attack, chaos erupted. Players were dragged from their beds, screams echoing through the dormitory. When someone lunged toward you with a fork, Young-il stopped them in an instant, knocking them to the ground with a brutality that left you stunned.

He positioned himself between you and the attackers, his stance firm. “Stay behind me,” he barked, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“I can fight!” you shouted back, trying to step forward.

“Not tonight,” he said, shoving you back gently but firmly. “You’re staying behind me. That’s final.”

Despite your protests, he shielded you with everything he had, fighting off anyone who dared come near.

When the group decided to attack the guards and confront the ‘Front Man’, Young-il hesitated. His gaze flickered between you and Gi-hun, his usual resolve wavering.

“You’ll be okay,” he said finally, pressing a gun into your hand.

“I don’t even know how to use this,” you said, eyes widened.

“You don’t need to. Just point and shoot if you have to,” he said. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “Why are you doing all this?”

“Because you’re mine,” he said quietly, his words slipping out before he could stop them.

Your breath hitched, but before you could respond, he turned to follow Gi-hun. Over his shoulder, he added, “You’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you with more questions than answers and a determination to survive—not just for yourself, but for the man who had somehow made you his priority in this death game.

[lowkeyren]

—trick or... tricked?

in which : you save a strikingly handsome vampire, not knowing he would get attached to you in more ways than one.

pairing : aventurine x gn!reader

wc 1.5k, vampire aventurine in celebration of spooky month, lots of flirting (re: dialogue), reader implied to be shorter than him, ofc he bets lol, art by @/shizuart, reblogs r much appreciated!! enjoy <3

for @stellaronhvnters ongoing event; the prompt i ended up w was vampire ^^ @staarri sighs i miss writing for aventurine.

you have no idea why aventurine has taken such a keen interest in you. 

all you did was help a poor vampire in need. you saw him slumped against the cold stone of an alley one night, weakened and vulnerable; his pristine clothes torn and his blond hair dishevelled. 

you stepped closer despite the little voice in your head telling you to mind your own business. vampires weren’t known for displaying vulnerability so openly, yet there he was —barely holding on, his gaze hazy as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

out of some misplaced sense of duty—or perhaps it was pity—you knelt beside him, offering your help. at first, he brushed you off, pride keeping him from accepting anything. but as the blood from his gashes continued to seep through his clothes and his breathing grew more laboured, he had no choice but to relent.

tearing a piece of your sleeve off to use as a bandage, you quickly tended to his wounds. he’s surprisingly compliant, letting you clean the gashes without complaint, except for the occasional groan whenever you applied the antiseptic.

rummaging through your bag, you pulled out a bottle of water and pressed it against his lips, watching as he gulped down the liquid eagerly. his eyes flickered with relief as the cool water met his dry mouth; and you noticed the way his shoulders relaxed, the tension visibly easing from his body. 

after making sure he was somewhat stable, you stood up to leave. though you didn’t expect him to thank you, and you certainly didn’t expect him to latch on to you like this.

you take it back.

maybe you shouldn’t have helped him. who would have known he would become so… attached? 

you have tried everything. changing your routine, leaving town, even staying inside for days at a time, but none of it worked. he lurks in the shadows, leaning against a wall as you pass by, catching your gaze across a crowded room with an infuriating smirk.

you hoped, prayed even, that your indifference would drive him off. that maybe, if you didn’t acknowledge him, he’d lose interest, move on to someone else. 

though you couldn’t be more far from wrong. 

("aventurine, why are you always here?"

his eyes flicks down lazily to meet yours, a hint of surprise in them. slowly, he set his cup down and smiles.

"why sweetheart," his voice is smooth, amused. "i’m just enjoying the view.")

he’s patient, maddeningly so, with a persistence that makes it hard to ignore him.

you catch glimpses of him out of the corner of your eye —a flash of pale skin, a figure too still in the crowd, but every time you turn to face him, he’s gone, only to reappear moments later, closer than before.

how frustrating. 

“i know you’re there, aventurine.”

a moment passes, then he steps into view, a relaxed smile on his lips that stirs something within you. “you’re quite observant tonight,” he replies, a teasing lilt in his voice. “i was beginning to think you preferred to ignore me.”

you cross your arms, “i don’t prefer anything about this situation, you keep showing up uninvited,” you retort, yet your heart betrays you, fluttering at the way he leans closer, the scent of him intoxicating.

“uninvited, sure. but unwanted? i'm not so sure about that." he chuckles softly, his voice like velvet, eyes gleaming as they meet yours. “i think,” a sly grin tugs at his lips, his fangs just barely visible beneath them, “you're more intrigued by me than you’d like to admit.”

the roll of your eyes does little to hide the faint blush creeping up your neck. “yeah yeah whatever,” you mutter, glancing away to regain your composure, but even the sun rising on the horizon seems to pale in comparison to the heat radiating from your cheeks.

“i’ll catch you later tonight, sweetheart.” he calls over his shoulder as he disappears into the early morning light, “try not to miss me too much while the sun’s still out.”

you quickened your pace, weaving through the streets, desperate to put distance between you and that haunting smirk. but the faster you move, the closer aventurine seems to get, his footsteps silent but ever-present. 

“not now, aventurine,” the words came out sharper than you intended. “i’m running late for my date,” your breath hitching from the strain of trying to outrun him. 

“a date, huh? is that what you call it?” he pushes himself off a nearby post, “and here i'm starting to think you enjoy my company."

"enjoy? not even close." you shoot a glare at him over your shoulder, before quickening your pace again. “why do you even care anyway?”

“because i do,” he replies simply, you can feel his gaze boring into your back. “you helped me when no one else would. it’s only fair i return the favour.”

you stop short, your heart racing in a way that has nothing to do with running late.

“—and you don’t seem to hate the idea of getting involved with someone like me.”

“someone like you?” you echo, incredulity spilling into your tone. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

aventurine shrugs, his presence still lingering close behind you. “vampires don’t exactly have the best track record, you know. most people would steer clear of me.”

you raise an eyebrow, “and yet, here you are, shadowing me like a lost puppy. so, what do you really want?”

he straightens up, the glimmer in his eyes brightening. “i was wondering how long it’d take for you to ask." he saunters closer, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his cold fingers lingering near your cheek. 

“let’s make a deal.”

“a deal?”

"a bet, if you will," he corrects himself, his voice dripping with amusement. "it's simple. if you win, i’ll leave you alone, for good.” his lips quirks upward, before continuing. “but if i win, i get to taste you.”

your heart lurches at the word, dread pooling in your stomach. blood. he wants your blood, right? what else would a vampire want?

you swallow hard, thank aeons he can't see your face right now. “fine. what’s the bet?”

he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “let’s see how well you’ve been paying attention." you barely have time to react before his hands gently close over your eyes from behind, blocking your vision entirely.

“tell me,” his voice a low whisper, “what colour are my eyes right now?”

your pulse quickens. well, they’re usually—

“magenta and cyan,” you mutter instinctively, the words slipping out before you can even think. aventurine chuckles softly, his lips brushing dangerously close to your ear as he speaks. “wrong answer, sweetheart."

his fingers remain gently over your eyes, his cold touch pushing your already racing heart into overdrive. "then, what’s the right answer?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

“they’re red tonight,” he replies. you perk up “how am i supposed to know that! you can’t just change the colours on a whim…”

“ah ah, you lost the bet.”

taste… your throat tightens at the thought, your mind went straight to the worst-case scenario —a sharp bite that would sap your strength and leave you utterly drained. 

his body presses against your back as he tilts your chin up gently, and you meet his gaze. yes, they’re definitely red tonight —a striking shade of crimson, blood red. he looks down at you, a devilish grin spreading across his face, a smile so dangerously alluring, so handsomely wicked.

“ugh…” you shifted uneasily, though you tried to play it off as indifference. "just make it quick and painless." you turn your head slightly to the side, exposing your neck.

aventurine blinks, taken aback for a moment. "oh?" he drawls, his voice dripping with mischief. "no, no, sweetheart. i don’t want your blood."

confusion flickers across your face as you stare up at him.

"i want a kiss.”

aventurine leans against the doorway, an amused smile dancing on his lips. “looks like someone forgot about their date,” he teases, his eyes glinting with that familiar blend of magenta and cyan —such beautiful eyes with vivid hues of twilight, too mesmerising for a beguiling being. 

“never had one in the first place,” you murmur, your words holding a hint of resignation.

he tilts his head as the corners of his lips curl up. “really? then… can i be your date instead?”

you blink, caught off guard; your heart stumbles in your chest, and for a moment, you’re lost for words. you look up, meeting his gaze. there’s something different, something softer about the way he looks at you.

“a little late to be asking, don’t you think?” you manage, your voice quieter than before, the space between you feels a lot smaller than it did just moments ago.

“better late than never,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “besides,” he continues, his thumb brushing gently against your hand, “who’s to say a night with a vampire wouldn’t be better?”

you laugh lightly, “you’re too confident for your own good.” even as the words leave your mouth, there’s no real bite behind them.

he leans in, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath soft against your ear. “and yet you haven’t said no.”

MASTERLIST.

[thekinslayed]

In This Warmth

summary | Aemond finds his home in you. (requested.)

pairing | modern!aemond targaryen x gf!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI!, saltburn/college au, unprotected sex, established relationship, sleepy sex, no plot heh, dry humping

wordcount | 1.7k

note | this one's for all my sleepy college girlies :) this is part of my modern aemond saltburn au, but can 100% be read as a standalone! v self indulgent bc college is hard and i need an aemond to help me thru it :P

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated! (divider by @starzyyy1)

The bag hanging off Aemond’s shoulder was heavy. The dark backpack was filled with thick books and his bulky MacBook, the weight slightly tilting his posture to one side as he mad his way to his dorm. Cigarette in one hand and a red Nokia in the other, he checked to see if he’d missed any calls from you. There were none, not even so much a text.

He checked the time, 3:47 p.m., and found little urge within him to panic over your silence. Your boyfriend of three years knew you well enough by now to know exactly where you were, and as he made his way up the aged stairs and turned the key into his room, the sight that greeted him confirmed his assumptions. There you were, face down on the pillow and snuggled beneath his navy blue covers, deep into your slumber. Your day clothes were thrown haphazardly over the armchair, undoubtedly clad in one of his shirts as you napped peacefully after your 11 am class, your only class on Thursdays. With the way you didn’t flinch at every creak of the wooden floorboards in the centuries-old room, one would think you’d finished multiple classes back to back, but Aemond’s girl was always so sleepy, always seeking the warmth of their space whenever she could. 

Despite your insistence to keep your own space, your boyfriend’s room had become familiar with the scent you left upon his sheets with how much you’d spent your time with him. It didn’t help that his building was much closer, much easier to navigate your tired eyes towards when the urge to nap beckoned you home. 

Aemond couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you, at the domesticity of it all. He would have liked to spend the rest of the sunny afternoon with you, preferably awake, perhaps at the park where you could both read under the big oak you liked so much or get you something warm and hearty when you were sure to be starved after having nothing but granola bars while rushing to class. Yet, he was nothing but pleased to have you in his bed after a mind-numbing day of numbers and lectures. He was quick to drop his stuff onto his computer chair, then ridding himself of his dark jeans and sweater, before slowly climbing onto the bed to settle by your side. The standard mattress was hardly big enough to fit the both of you, with his long frame and your sprawled-out sleeping form, but he liked the proximity. You moved to make space for him on instinct, still deep into your slumber, but the silver-haired man threaded his arms around you, caging you close. 

You let out a dreamy sound as he snuggled into your neck, breathing in your scent. You smelled so sweet— of roses and vanilla from your favorite perfume, but also of him, of the woody musk of his sheets. Hands wandering beneath the duvet, he was pleased to find you sans any bottoms, his old band tee riding up your tummy and exposing your panties when he dared to peek. 

He just couldn’t help it. His palms caressed your soft thighs, nicely warmed by being under the covers for a bit. Then, he started trailing upward to cup your behind and squeeze the plump flesh under his colder, rougher hold. This made you hum, slowly stirring awake.

“Aem?” you mumbled, eyes still heavy with sleep.

“Hey, baby,” he whispered, planting a small kiss on your hairline. “Didn’t mean to wake you, beautiful, sorry.”

“S’okay,” you responded softly, arms pulling him in close. Your leg naturally wound over his hips, limbs intertwining like twin vines. Aemond moved to lay over you as you stayed on your back, but the mewl you let out when his hips stuck flush against yours had him trying to pull away, though you wouldn't let him. His body always had a way of reacting before his mind did, easily succumbing to the tantalizing spell of your embrace despite his better thinking. Your leg around his hips kept him close, his half-hard cock finding its place in the soft indent of your folds through your panties.

“Baby–” he tried to say.

“S’okay,” you repeated, voice still tinged with exhaustion but your eyelids had now opened, looking at him through a bleary daze. A subtle cant of your hips let him know what you wanted, and that it was alright for him to take what he needed. 

Aemond exhaled a deep breath, before shifting his weight over his arms to hover over you. His hips ground against yours, cockhead brushing against the soft cotton of his underwear. You let out another sweet hum, right against his ear, and Aemond started to feel warm and tingly. With another leg wounding around his slim hips, your lover set a gentle pace, unrushed and unburdened. It spurred the fire in his loins, not so much to a burning blaze, but a warm glow, just enough to heat you both right up. His chest was flush against yours, your arms tied at the back of his neck with his nose finding purchase in the junction of your neck as his hips continued to grind against your clothed mound. It was nice to take the time like this, slow yet still full of passion and intimacy as you always were, but he would admit he was starting to need more, with his length hardened to full mast and the front of his briefs starting to grow damp. His large palms settled on both sides of your hips, toying with the laced hem of your thong.

“Can I take these off?” he asked quietly, kissing your temple. You nodded meekly, letting him pull your panties off, leaving you in nothing but his shirt. The only time he would willingly unwind himself was to pull the last of his clothing off, before snuggling back into your warmth in a blink. You welcomed him with a spread of your thighs, apex slightly glistening with your own quiet eagerness. He sunk into you with a sigh, breathing the soft mewl escaping your lips as he captured them in a kiss. The want to savor the moment overcame his baser urge to take you fast and rough like he usually did, prolonging this sweetness with every slow drag of his cock in and out of your walls. 

Your eyes had closed once more, your brows subtly furrowed and creased the skin in between. Warmth enclosed you like a warm cocoon, shielded from the crisp autumn cold seeping into the old windows by the navy duvet you kept lifted to his back. “Missed you,” you moaned, warm breath fanning Aemond’s shoulder with every sigh of satisfaction.

“I missed you so much, baby, couldn’t wait to come home to you,” he muttered against your skin, before kissing the skin peaking out from the collar of his shirt. Your walls engulfed him like a warm hug, and he’d long decided there was no better feeling this life could give him. Aemond had never found so much warmth in one place before. In his own home, Dragonstone, it was always so cold. The stone walls always seemed to be void of such warmth, as did everything else within it. He’d never would have imagined to have found so much of it here, in one of Oxford’s rickety, old dorm rooms, though it might have something to do with the person beneath him. You were the sun, bright with life, and he was but the moon blessed to have been bestowed some of your light. You were the dawn after the everlasting midnight blues where he could only stumble around in the dark blindly. You were the warmth that welcomed him home.

“Aem… I’m—”

“I know, baby, it’s okay. I’m right there with you,” he said. His arms were starting to strain from holding himself up, and beads of sweat were starting to dampen his forehead, but it didn’t bother him one bit; not when you clung to him like a lifeline, and he’d be damned if he would ever let go. 

The tide had taken you first, washing you over as you huddled into his neck and moaned his name. Your walls spasmed around him in the aftermath, and it was then he was taken under. Aemond came with a soft groan, before collapsing half his weight on top of you and the other onto the mattress. His separation from your heat was a reluctant endeavor, but he found that nuzzling into your chest was the next best thing. 

You were both breathless, unspeaking, yet connected in the silence. With a subtle tilt of his head to look at you, you had already dozed off again with a peaceful look encompassing your features and a flush adorning your cheeks. Aemond’s good eyelid soon started to grow heavy as the minutes passed, your sleepy spell bewitching his usually awake mind. In the time he had bloomed under your love, his body had grown fully in sync with yours, just as his heart was in tune with your heart’s every song. 

After all of this, outside of this room, he still had much to worry about. His thesis was going to be up for review soon enough, and he’d have to devote most of his waking hours to make sure everything was perfect. This was his last year in Oxford, and by the end of spring, he would have graduated. Leaving you here for a year was what worried him the most. Father needed him in London to start working for the company, but his heart would remain wherever you would. He knew you’d wave him off and tell him you’d be fine, and you would, but he worried for himself too. Aemond didn’t know how to cope with coming home and not finding you there, he just couldn’t imagine it.

Those would have to wait. For now, he had you, and he had this moment. As the sun started to set over the horizon, and the light from his window dimmed into an orangey hue, Aemond descended into his own cloud of slumber. Your breath fanned over his hair, reminding him you were there with him, you always were.

[vinnyvamppp]

Pretty When You Cry

Did I leave for two hours and come back with this?! Yes, I did! Mainly, my idea for writing this is because he cries often in the show when upset or overwhelmed, so why not let that apply to sex too? Synopsis: He's having relationship issues with Amber, but you're willing to be his distraction... right?

Warnings: Dacryphillia, Sub!Mark (canonically loves his women in charge), Soft Dom!Reader, Position changes, implied struggles with romance, no contraception (pull out game 💀), porn w a plot, fem presenting reader, friends to lovers?

Mark Grayson/Invincible x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2,542

He was such a pretty crier. A man in tears was a man you could love for years. It was a sight you never grew tired of. While it would be shameful to admit, you partially listened to him spill his troubles to see those glistening pearls bubble down his waterline. As you stared at him admiringly perched against his rooftop, you listened as he poured his heart out, a feeling of pity settling in your gaze.

Little did you know, his emotions were stirring more than usual and creating an unfamiliar sense of lust towards you.

This was wrong—utterly and irrevocably wrong.

Mark gazed idly at your dimly lit features as you looked up at the stars from the roof—he had decided to invite you over to his place after a fight with his girlfriend; he didn't want to go home, and he definitely didn't want to be alone. The fight with Amber still lingered, a bitter taste in his mouth, but it was nothing compared to the turmoil brewing in his chest.

He wanted a break; you were just that. One of his childhood friends and confidants. He was certain he and Amber were over; it was a situation where he didn’t realize they were broken up until it was too late. So, why the hell, in the midst of everything, was he thinking about kissing you? He HAD a girlfriend a few hours ago, one who loved him with every fiber of her being.

Yet, you were always so pretty to him. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t had a crush on you in the past, or even fucked his fist at the thought of you until his dick was raw and coated in lotion. It was pathetic, he knew it, but more than ever now he felt enticed by your very presence. The way your lips would speak such comforting words, and you would stare at him as if only he existed. Sure, the relationship between him and Amber didn’t work out because he’s Invincible and she’s a regular human, but he could be selfish just this once… right?

For the thousandth time, you reassured him Amber would return to him with a new resolve. It was almost like you were trying to convince the two of you. It was nonexistent now. So what else could he do besides cast aside his doubt and stare at those puffy lips?

“You okay?” You asked, curious about his staring. “Yeah… yeah, I’m okay.” He muttered like a dejected puppy, tugging at your heartstrings. “Right, so instead of moping… you need a stress reliever. For your sake. Dragging yourself around all day won’t help.” You sighed quietly as your fingers gently rested against the thin cloth of his back reassuringly. “Right,” he replied, “What’s your idea of a stress reliever—and don’t say exercise; I already do that constantly.” His fingers gestured in your direction, some of his playfulness returning. “Get this,” you started as if to say something revolutionary. “Exercise.”

His eyes rolled as he mumbled under his breath, his head turning to face you with a raised brow. “You’re such a comedian.” He quipped. “Come on, an actual one that won’t have me sweating and panting like a dog, okay? Please?” His voice struck a chord within you; it was the perfect rasp and whine. Not to mention his words causing your thoughts to travel a million miles past sexual. “I wouldn’t mind the sight,” you said casually. “Besides the lotion and tissue in your room, it suggests you ‘exercise” more than enough.” It was a harmless joke, enough to bring him pause as you two quietly chuckled. It was embarrassing, but nothing he couldn’t deny. “Uh. Yeah.” He muttered.

As you leaned over slightly, his staring persisted. Your shoulder rested against his as you stared into his eyes. His gaze avoided you momentarily before locking within your reflection. “Mark, what’s going on?” You asked, head tilting slightly. “I know I’m not going crazy; you’ve been staring at me since you invited me over. You didn’t call me over just to stare.” The last sentence was sarcastic. “I did.” He rasped; it was hushed and nearly caused your hearts to flutter in tandem. “They are different. Very different. But I… didn’tknowhowtotellyoubecauseitfeelsdesperatetosaythisnowthatamberandibrokeupbutivelikeyouforarlongtimeandimeansincewewerekidsandireallywanttokissyourightnowandineedtobeinsideyou.” It poured out like an unexpected dam breaking.

As you stared at him in silence, your looks of bewilderment matched one another’s. To escape his embarrassment, he briskly stood up, opening his bedroom window, and climbed in. As he turned away, you crawled in behind him, his gaze slowly meeting yours as you gave a “Fuck it” sort of nod.

The actions were fast, rushed even. He needed a distraction to quiet his never-ending mind, and like always, you were the solution. His fingers draped over your waist as he pulled you in, your lips meeting his in feverish delight. His body heat as a Viltrumite ran hot, your bodies already producing a light sheen of sweat. The quiet sounds of moans mingled between hot breaths. Tilting his head further, his lips parted as his tongue jutted out in search of yours. It was a gentle yet mutually needy kiss; your bodies were pressed so firmly together you could feel the tent forming against his slacks.

He was an excited one, but gentle. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you tugged the strands to earn a strangled groan. His lips latched onto yours like a suction cup; only when he was satisfied with your moans did his puffy lips shift down your neck. His tongue tickled the skin, not leaving marks as to get caught, but covering you in his taste. Your fingers delved under the fabric of his shirt as you relished the attention. The indentation of his abs was the sweetest treat; your fingers shifted upwards, exposing his abdomen to the night's chill as you both groaned. His feet shuffled forward clumsily as you two fell against his bed. Sitting you up, his fingers nimbly worked you out of your shirt and pants. Your hands fumbled to get his pants down, but eventually, they pooled around his ankles. Just as he assisted you in removing his shirt, you took in his appearance with such admiration and lust while he stared at you reverently.

You two, while being incredibly impatient, nearly skipped foreplay entirely. His fingers unclasped your bra and removed the matching colored panties down the flesh of your thighs. The wet patch forming in his boxers was becoming evident; his arousal was at an all-time high, and his stamina was mounting for the night ahead. Pressing you back against the bed, your bodies pressed together, his heart pounding, you devoured each other's mouths. His tongue was like a tender caress that made your stomach tie in knots; the anticipation was killing you. “Ha… I needed this.” His words muffled between kisses as you hummed in agreement.

He pulled away, his thumb dragging down the corner of his boxer as his cock slowly sprung from beneath the fabric. In all its glory, it stood with neatly trimmed pubes and visibly throbbing with restraint. Once his last article of clothing hit the ground, he took a moment to nervously chuckle as he admired you splayed beneath him. His expression was giddy as it traced down the supple curves of your figure, the fat of your breasts and arousal coating the outside of your folds catching his attention more than anything. You looked gorgeous.

Time was up. You had enough and needed a little more. Reaching up to give him a gentle peck, you flipped him onto his back as you straddled him. He looked surprised but welcomed the authority as he melted beneath you. His lips sought yours, and your fingers began to caress your clit as you continued. The quiet sound of your arousal pooled into his ears, his eyes fluttering open as he stared at you with your eyes screwed shut in bliss. He could feel himself nearly cum from the sight alone. His dick was beginning to hurt, and to soothe the ache, his fingers wrapped around his cock and pumped in tandem with your fingers. Slightly annoyed, your fingers swatted his away and brought it to your clenching hole, ready to milk him dry. As his first digit entered your warmth, he shivered. He could feel every ridge and contraction as your abs squeezed from the pleasure. His fingers formed a V, and once spread enough, you took your seat with pleasure. It would normally hurt, but thanks to your sadistic mind imagining his crying for the last few hours, you’d been leaking like a faucet.

The stretch was delicious, but nothing was better than his blissed expression and immediate groan. He was reactive, the perfect man for your little kink. Never mind not having a condom; he was never the most responsible in that manner. The slow, deliberate movement of your hips was like a tantalizing dance, teasing him with every rotation. His fingers dug into your thighs, urging you on as you began riding him with an unhurried intensity. His eyes locked onto yours, his eyes occasionally fluttering shut in pleasure as he fought the urge to slam you down against him. While he would love to, he felt helpless and abandoned to your will, a willing captive, lost in the maelstrom of desire.

His chest rose and fell as quiet whines slowly filled his throat; the sight of his eyes rolling back before fluttering finally broke the final restraints of your self-perseverance. Digging your fingernails into his chest, your hips rose slowly before suddenly dropping with a renewed conviction. “Oh… F-Fuck… yes.” He sighed, like this was the medicine he’d been craving. As much of a gentleman as he was for his girlfriends, he certainly was lascivious when he intended. Shifting his fingers to your ass, he assisted in the fluidity of your movements. His strength allows you to glide along his cock with ease. Moans began to filter from your lips, “That’s… perfect, don’t you stop.” You demanded it with every bit of grit you could muster. Your fingers clasped around the width of his chin so he could focus on you, his body bounced against the mattress as the air was knocked from him. He wasn’t the most talkative, but he was vocal.

“I’m not… I’m not going to stop. Feels so perfect in here, I can’t—I.” He stammers wearily as his body moves on autopilot. You watched as he practically fucked himself dumb; the sound of skin colliding filled your ears as your teeth gnawed at your lip. One particularly deep thrust seemed to have sent him into overdrive; his tip could feel your insides contracting as if to suck him in more. He wanted to be buried in you; he could imagine you two fucking like rabbits. He smiled weakly at the thought. His toes curled into the mattress as your back arched, and harsh gasps erupted from his throat as his body trembled. A groan, a measly groan of his resilience, echoed in the room. Lost in your own sounds of pleasure, you had yet to notice the man nearly convulsing beneath you.

His hand left your hips and rose to the fingers that gripped his chin. Suddenly, your impending orgasm was ruined. “Sorry, I’m s—sorry, I’m so sorry.” He babbled before pressing a firm hand against your stomach and resting your back against the bed. Before you could react, he sheathed himself within your pussy once more and fucked you with vigor to make up for lost time. He attempted to speak, only his jaw clenched in response. Your head fell back against the edge of the bed. The legs of the bed frame wobbled as it rocked sideways; the thumps against the wall filled the room.

Pleasured grunts and profanities fell from your pouted lips as you ground back against him. A high-pitched whine fell from him as his head fell. “Oh- jesus, what—what the fuck? You feel so, so, so, so.” He slurred slightly, and you chuckled in response. “Fuck… mm, seems like you’ve wanted this for a while?” You question through moans, your fingers cupping your bouncing breasts from his gaze as he grew distracted. “You… have noooo idea.” He admitted, too, in bliss to care much about embarrassment. Your core slowly began to tighten, and so did your chest as his body pressed forward with nearly all his weight. His fingers curled into the blankets as his tongue ran dry with ruined sobs. His pelvis rubbing deliciously against your clit made your legs stiffen behind him. He moved to pull away, but before you could, one of your legs hooked around the width of his neck. The position elevated your hips slightly, his dick punctuating with each thrust unintentionally. He was losing his mind. Such raw and unfiltered love swelled his chest. Your fingers wrapped around the width of his lower back to spur him on; your orgasm was quickly doubling back. “P-Please, can’t cum inside… fuck,” he muttered wearily as tears began to fall. His body trembling with pleasure, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. The sensation was too much, the pressure building in his chest like a dam about to burst. He tried to hold it back, to grit his teeth and bear it, but it was no use. The pleasure mounting had his body wracking in ways he had yet to feel so intensely.

With a satisfied grin, you watched his pretty lashes become coated with warm tears. The salty taste stained your lips as he moaned in delight. Your sounds mingled with one another until they became indistinguishable. His fingers found the fat of your ass, and he bullied himself into you; the strength behind it made you dizzy. Wiping his tears away, you peppered gentle kisses against his face. “I've always loved you,” he muttered suddenly; you grinned in response. “Love you too,” you replied gingerly before a high-pitched whine ripped from your throat. The tip of his tongue pawed at your nipple desperately, the bud hardening beneath his cold saliva. Your orgasm hit you like a train as your back arched, your fingers clasped at him, and your legs trembled. Harsh gasps left you in your failed attempt to remain silent. Hedonistic praises left you, but Mark could barely respond. The throbbing sensation of your pussy was practically trying to suck the cum from his cock. “Please, oh fuck, please, baby, I’m gonna cum. Holy shit.” His words were hurried as he let out a chuckle of disbelief. At his words, your leg freed him as he pulled out just last minute, his sperm barely making it to your abdomen. His body hunched over as he gasped, his jaw slacking as his muscles visibly strained. Slow whines spilled from his lips as he came down from his high. His recovery time was fast, though his body still trembled with an after shock. With bated breaths, you both stared at one another; his eyes were barely focused as he sat in awe. You both chuckled at one another before his rasped voice called out to you.

“You think we should date?” He asked before correcting himself. “I mean, do you want to date me? I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I would like—“ A pillow slammed into his face as you rolled your eyes. “Sure, Mark. I’d love to go out with you.”

Had to be dramatic like the show lmfao.

[kierahn]

FUELED BY HATE. [ academic rival x m ! reader ]

summary : you were the best in your entire batch while he stays in second place. nick initially thought that the rivalry between you and him would end after graduating, but it seemed like fate had other plans. you recently joined his workplace and stole his spotlight once more. after years of being overshadowed, nick has had enough and decided to finally put you in your place; below him, right where you belonged.

content warning : blackmail ✧; character despises reader ✧; non/dubcon nsfw ✧; cigarette burns ✧; degradation

masterlist !

✩ i’m so sorry for disappearing for almost a year ! i recently started my first year of college, and things have been hectic for me so far. i'll try writing more often now that I've adjusted better :] ✩ this is a draft i left before i disappeared. i decided to refine it before working on newer stuff. ✩ i've also decided to clear out all the requests on my inbox since i want a fresh start. with that, my inbox is open for requests ! (still selective of what i'll write) ──★ ˙ ̟🪿 !!

➷ nick cromwell was a man who excelled in his studies. from the first day he entered the military academy, nick already knew that he was gifted. this easily earned him respect and admiration from the people around him.

but despite his decent reputation and academic performance, nick's name lingered solely in second place throughout the years, never surpassing the name above his.

➷ dark eyes glued themselves on the name tag that was sewn on the right side of your newly tailored uniform; y/n l/n, it read. seeing your name never failed to sour his mood.

you had joined his department just a couple of months ago, yet you rose to the top with ease and easily surpassed him once more. barely a month in, and you already managed to solve a missing person case that had long gone cold. it was a huge feat that set you on a path towards a promising promotion. one that nick highly sought after years of working his ass off.

➷ nick averted his gaze away from your form, a pang of irritation hitting him. he hated you— your voice, your presence, everything. he hated how you were better than him in every aspect.

you were always surrounded by your co-workers who depended on you for help despite being new. everyone seemed to look at you with stars in their eyes, filled with admiration. everyone except nick.

➷ the first day you joined his department, nick slipped out of the bustling room with a box of cigarettes in his hand. he placed one stick in between his lips while his other hand searched for his lighter only to find that it was missing. he brushed his dark locks back with an annoyed sigh. great.

just as nick turned to head back inside, a lighter greeted him out of nowhere, sparking to life and lighting his unlit cigarette. the sudden gesture made his heart skip a beat out of shock, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. nick took a deep drag of the now lit cigarette, directing his gaze to thank the owner of the lighter.

his expression hardened. y/n.

"cromwell," nick watched as you placed your lighter back inside your pocket. he stared, not bothering to hide his displeased expression.

did you remember him from military academy ? that's impossible, you were in different classes and had never crossed paths before. he doubted you knew about his existence.

after a long pause, nick exhaled a puff of smoke, deciding to snap out of his trance. holding the cigarette between his fingers, he returned the greeting. "l/n."

that was his first interaction with you after all those years. a face to finally match the name that had long stirred his competitive spirit.

➷ your feats only kept getting more and more impressive as time went on, and the sight of your constant success ignited something within nick. he knew he had to humble you, to remind you of your place. nick worked his ass off trying to get where he was, it wasn’t fair of you to take that away from him.

he had to be better than you this time even if he had to go the extra mile to ruin you.

he considered a couple of extreme measures: framing you for murder, planting drugs in your desk, or any other nefarious scheme that could tie you to wrongdoing. but, it wasn't enough for him to see you behind bars. that wasn't what he aimed for. he needed to completely ruin you— humiliate you so you wouldn’t dare to step out of line ever again.

it only took him a few drinks between 'friends' to have you all putty in his hands. he didn't expect you to be such a lightweight, but it was convenient for him to set his plan in motion. it wasn't an easy task dragging you around in your drunken state, but nick was satisfied with his work.

you were fully stripped of your uniform, both hands cuffed behind your back, black leather wrapped around your eyes, and a cloth between your lips to muffle whatever sound you were bound to make.

a tripod sat at the edge of the bed, a camera set up to capture your vulnerable state. all he had to do was take a picture and finish up, but that idea didn’t seem to satisfy him. it wouldn't be enough to make up for the years that you have overshadowed him.

nick monitored your unconscious form from across the dimly lit room. the cigarette that sat between his lips illuminated the lower half of his face, dark eyes reflecting the light of the burning cigarette. rising from the wooden chair he had nested himself in, nick stalked towards the bed where you laid unconscious. he placed his cigarette on an ash tray sitting on top of his bedside table. the camera's light illuminated a crimson red color, indicating that it was recording everything.

nick's gloved hand slowly traced a line down your exposed stomach, feeling you shudder slightly at his touch. your still breathing turned frantic the lower his hand slid down your torso. an unsuspected ghost of a smile crept up on nick’s lips as he watched you react to his touch. there was something about seeing you in such a humiliating position, all vulnerable and helpless.

perhaps this was where you rightfully belonged, below him.

his thumb glossed over your cheek as he stared down to study your sleeping face. now that he had a closer look at you, nick realized how good you actually looked. no wonder people liked you a lot, aside from being reliable, you were also a piece of candy for one’s eye.

his hand unconsciously found itself wrapped around the base of your cock, still soft and limp from the lack of stimulation. even this part of you looked good. he had every right to be jealous.

having initially planned to simply take photos and leave it at that, nick knew he had to improvise. he bent down and coated the tip of your cock with his spit. it helped his gloved hand glide smoothly up and down along your shaft.

your breath hitch in response, and that was when nick knew you were awake and could feel everything.

knowing this, nick quickened his pace, twisting and rubbing with the goal of making you finish in his hand. the gag around your mouth muffled your groans. with the way your cock hardened and twitched in his hand, nick could tell that your body liked his touch.

“who knew you were such a slut,” nick taunted. he noticed how you bit against the gag to suppress your moans, staining the cloth around your mouth with your saliva. “i wonder what our superiors would think if they saw you in this position ?” his other hand ripped the gag from your mouth. he wanted to hear what other noises you could make.

you open your mouth to question who he was, but nick took it as an opportunity to capture your lips in his. he tilted his head to the side to muffle your

this was all to humiliate you, nothing more. he inwardly told himself. but the strained feeling in his pants told a completely different story.

nick groaned as he felt you come undone, staining his hand white with your cum. he pulled away from the kiss, replacing his lips with his fingers as he let you have a taste of yourself. he pinched and pulled at your tongue, stretching the inside of your mouth with his fingers. he coated his fingers with your saliva, dark eyes watching you gag on his fingers.

nick pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a pop and let them hover your rim in a teasing manner. he pushed a finger past the ring of muscles despite your protest, holding you down by straddling your hips as you thrashed around. “shh, you’ll tire yourself out before i can even start.”

the sound of clothes shuffling reached your ears as nick pulled his trousers down with his other hand to free his hardened cock. he could see your chest rise and fall quickly, but you stayed surprisingly compliant. “you’re actually enjoying this, aren’t you ?” nick’s fingers continued to prod at your entrance, teasing you as he rubbed circles with his thumb on your gaping hole. “we can’t have that. you’ll have to beg for it first.”

you gritted your teeth at the thought of begging. there was no way you were going to— nick pushed his thumb inside, making you jolt as your walls clenched around the digit. a sharp groan escaped your lips that were slightly agape as you breathe heavily.

your cock painfully twitched at the lack of sensation. nick wiggled his thumb around inside you, but it still wasn’t enough to stimulate anything. “is that your dick ? pretty small for all that big talk.”

you decided to bite back and insult him. you weren’t going to beg for anything any time soon, instead, you would taunt him into doing what you wanted. hearing the male simply chuckle at your insult, nick pulled his thumb out of your hole and replaced it with his cock, its tip kissing your entrance. “you’re really asking for it. i knew you were a filthy whore underneath that professional bullshit you keep pulling on everyone.”

without warning, nick slammed himself inside. he groaned at the sudden tightness, hands holding you in place, a bruising grip on your hips. “shit, can’t you loosen up a bit ? you’re going to chop my dick off,” he growled, a slight rasp in his voice.

your hole swallowed him whole, dragging him deeper inside as he thrusted in and out of your abused hole. it took him a while to set an actual pace because of how your hole clenched tightly around his dick, but you did loosen up after a while. he made a mental note to prepare you properly next time

next time ?

nick pushed those thoughts away. this was a one time thing, he.. fuck.

nick tightened his grip on your hips out of frustration. he almost forgot why he was doing this in the first place, this was all to simply ruin you, nothing more. he reached out to grab his cigarette off the ash tray, placing it between his lips as he dragged one out to calm his nerves. ‘i shouldn’t be enjoying this,’ he inwardly scolded himself.

he exhaled, keeping the cigarette in between his fingers as he placed his palm against your bare stomach. ‘but, holy shit, how can i not enjoy this. his ass is swallowing my dick like it’s his last meal.’ nick grunted.

out of frustration, he dragged the butt of his cigarette against your bare stomach. you hissed at the burning sensation, your muscles tensing as you bit back a scream of pain. nick’s dark eyes examined the burn marks he had left in your skin, no longer feeling remorse. instead, his cock twitched at the sight of your pained expression.

he continued thrusting into you, your moans acting as a positive reinforcement for him to keep going. nick took the cigarette back to his lips, inhaled, and leaned down to slam his lips against yours. it tasted like ash as nick’s tongue intertwined with yours into a sloppy kiss. his pace eventually slowed down as he felt himself near his climax.

you were also close, whining against the kiss as he slammed into you one last time before he unloaded inside of you. he finished first, pulling away from the kiss and giving a few sloppy thrusts in order to help you finish. seeing your cock twitch and spur, nick pressed the cigarette butt against your tip. the pain from the scalding heat helped you finish, your cum putting out the cigarette’s light.

nick threw the cigarette onto the ashtray and pulled out of you, letting his finished work trickle down your thighs. he detached himself from you, removing his dirtied gloves as he approached the camera that continued to capture everything. “this should be enough to keep you in line.” he muttered under his breath as he ended the recording.

nick took the camera with him as he stalked back towards the bed where his finished work laid in display. the sound of a camera shutter reached your ears and a brief flash of light penetrated the blindfold around your eyes. “you look way better under me anyway.”

[i2sunric]

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 (p.js)

PAIRING: hades!jay x persephone!reader

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

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

PUBLISHED: 22nd December 2024

WC: 3.5k

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

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

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

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

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

But he wasn't deaf to their jests.

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

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

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

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

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

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

♡.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Before he knew better, he acted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

♡.

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

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

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

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

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

Hades. Ruler of the Underworld.

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

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

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

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

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

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

For the first time, his calm cracked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

♡.

The tension hung between you like a storm cloud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your glare deepened. "How do you know?"

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

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

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

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

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

So, it was evening.

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

He turned back; his eyes were steady but questioning.

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

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

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

♡.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

♡.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whenever you want, Y/N.”

♡.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slowly, you nodded. "I will."

[mcrdvcks]

i just need this love spiral

summary: Logan just wants one night alone with you.

word count: 1.5k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: here was the request that inspired this!

this is set in the same world as Deck The Halls, but you don't have to read that to understand this!

(also this may be my shortest oneshot ever!?)

warnings/tags: reader and logan have a bio kid, laura, fluff, mention of drinking wine, implied sex

Mornings were always Logan’s favorite part of the day—a close second was nighttime. In the mornings there was usually nothing to worry about, he could hold you for as long as he’d like with no interruptions.

Until Laura came along. Then Sierra. Then Rocky, your rescue pit bull.

And now, mornings usually meant a cramped bed, Rocky taking up the bottom half, curled up by Laura, and Sierra curled up between you and Logan.

Logan let out a slow exhale, staring at the ceiling. His arm was pinned under Sierra’s small body, her head tucked into your shoulder. Laura was sprawled out, one foot kicking into his ribs. And Rocky—damn dog—had taken up the whole bottom half of the bed, his body curled up against Laura’s legs.

This wasn’t what he had in mind when he woke up.

He turned his head slightly, watching you sleep. Peaceful. Comfortable. Completely unaware of the fact that he was being physically restrained by your children and a dog. His wife was right there, within arm’s reach, and yet completely inaccessible.

He sighed again, quieter this time.

Then Sierra shifted, rolling toward him in her sleep, and smacked him in the face with her tiny hand.

Logan groaned, running a hand down his face. That was it. Enough was enough.

He carefully peeled Sierra off his arm, settling her between you and Laura. She didn’t even stir. Then he scooted down, maneuvering around Rocky’s dead weight and slipping out of bed as quietly as possible.

You mumbled something in your sleep but didn’t wake. He reached over, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face.

Then, before you could stop him, he hooked an arm around your waist and pulled you out of bed.

"Logan," you yelped, barely catching yourself as he dragged you toward the door. "What are you—"

"Shh," he muttered, leading you out of the room and shutting the door behind him. "You’re mine for five minutes. That’s all I’m askin’."

You blinked at him, still groggy. "What?"

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, pulling you toward the couch. "Five minutes. Just me and you. No kids, no dog, no elbows in my ribs."

You let him drag you along, still trying to wake up. "You’re that desperate?"

"Yeah," he admitted without shame, settling onto the couch and pulling you onto his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close like he’d been deprived for days instead of just a few hours.

You sighed, resting your forehead against his. "You’re ridiculous."

"Maybe." His hands ran slowly up and down your back, warm and steady. "Ain't like I don’t love ‘em. But I’d like to wake up next to my wife at least once in a while, not buried under a pile of kids and a damn dog."

You snorted. "You’re the one who said Rocky could sleep in the bed when it storms."

"Didn’t mean every night," he grumbled, nuzzling into your neck. "And Sierra—she’s got her own bed, but no, she’s gotta be right in the middle. Laura’s got a whole room, but she still sneaks in."

"They love you."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he muttered, but you could hear the affection in his voice. He exhaled slowly, his grip tightening just a little. "Just wanted a minute with you."

You softened at that, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "You could’ve just woken me up earlier."

"Tried. You looked too peaceful," he admitted. "Didn’t have the heart to move you ‘til I got smacked in the face."

You grinned. "Sierra?"

"Who else?"

You laughed quietly, fingers brushing through his hair. "She’s got good aim."

"Real funny," he deadpanned, but his hold on you stayed firm, like he was soaking up every second.

You hummed, leaning into him. "Guess we’ll have to start locking the door, huh?"

"Already thought about it," he said. "If I don't, I'm never gettin’ you to myself again."

You smirked. "So dramatic."

"Call it whatever you want." He pressed a kiss to your temple, voice low. "You're mine first, remember that."

"Yeah?" You tilted your head, lips just brushing his. "You sure about that? Because I think Sierra might have something to say about it."

Logan groaned, letting his head fall back against the couch. "Gonna start fightin’ a five-year-old for my own wife. This is my life now."

You grinned. "Yep."

His hands slid lower, gripping your hips. "Lock the door tonight."

You bit back a laugh. "We’ll see."

---

Though Logan couldn’t technically get drunk, let alone tipsy, your alcohol tolerance was much lower now that you had Sierra. Which meant that after a small glass of wine you felt like you were on the moon.

Logan locked the bedroom door with a quiet click, turning back to you with a smirk. "Not takin' any chances tonight."

You laughed, a little loopy from the wine as you flopped onto the bed. "How responsible of you."

He climbed in after you, hands already finding your waist as he pulled you close. "Not responsible—just tired of gettin’ cockblocked by my own kids."

You snorted, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You are dramatic."

He hummed, nuzzling into your neck. "Maybe. But I finally got you all to myself."

His lips brushed against your skin, slow and teasing, his hands sliding up your back. You sighed, relaxing into him, fingertips trailing through his hair.

"Y'know," you murmured, tilting your head to give him better access, "I think the wine's making me very agreeable."

Logan chuckled against your throat, his breath warm. "Yeah? That so?"

"Mhm." You grinned, pulling back just enough to look at him. "You should take advantage of that."

His grip tightened on your hips. "Oh, I plan to."

Logan kissed you, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. His hands slid under your shirt, fingertips trailing warm patterns against your skin. You sighed against his lips, pressing closer, feeling the familiar heat coil between you.

Then—

Click.

The unmistakable sound of the door unlocking.

Logan froze. So did you.

Before either of you could react, the door creaked open, and small footsteps padded into the room.

"Mommy? Daddy?" Sierra’s sleepy voice cut through the darkness.

Logan exhaled sharply through his nose, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder. You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. His grip on you loosened just enough for you to shift, tilting your head toward the door.

"Sierra, honey, what’s wrong?"

"Rocky took my blanket," she mumbled.

From the doorway, Rocky let out a soft huff, the kind of noise that said he wasn’t giving it back anytime soon.

Logan groaned quietly, rolling onto his back. "I locked that damn door."

"She’s five," you whispered, amused. "Locks mean nothing to her."

Sierra took a few steps closer, rubbing her eyes. "Can I sleep with you?"

You started to sit up, but Logan caught your wrist. "Nope. No way. Not tonight," he muttered under his breath, then turned his head toward Sierra. "You got your own bed, kid. Go back to it."

She pouted. "But Rocky—"

"—is a thief, I know," Logan grumbled. "Go grab another blanket."

Sierra huffed, clearly unimpressed with the suggestion. "But—"

"Laura," Logan called, already knowing his other kid was lurking.

A beat of silence, then—

"How’d you know?" Laura’s voice piped up from the hall.

Logan scrubbed a hand down his face. "Because I ain’t stupid."

Laura stepped into view, arms crossed, a knowing smirk on her face. "We were gonna see if we could sneak in without you noticing."

"Yeah, well, noticed," Logan muttered. "Not happening tonight."

Sierra’s bottom lip wobbled. "But—"

"Nope," Logan cut her off. "Go on. Back to bed, both of you."

Laura didn’t argue, but Sierra whined, "Daddy—"

Logan sighed, sitting up. "Sierra, sweetheart, I love ya, but me and your mom need some time alone."

You pressed your lips together to stifle a laugh. Wrong choice of words.

Laura snorted. "Gross."

Sierra frowned, still half-asleep. "Why?"

Logan sighed again, dragging a hand through his hair. "Because I said so."

Sierra huffed dramatically, turning on her heel. "Fine."

Laura grabbed her hand, leading her away. "Come on, before they start kissing again."

Sierra made a gagging noise, and just like that, the two of them were gone, the door closing behind them.

Logan leaned back against the pillows, eyes closed. "I’m puttin’ a deadbolt on that damn door."

You laughed, rolling onto your side to face him. "You’re really struggling, huh?"

"You have no idea," he muttered, tugging you back into his arms. His grip was firm, like he was making up for lost time. "Now, where were we?"

You smirked, brushing your lips against his. "I think Rocky was about to steal another blanket."

Logan groaned. "That dog’s lucky I love him."

"Yeah, yeah," you teased, threading your fingers through his hair. "Now, are you gonna keep talking, or…?"

He didn’t need to be told twice.

[froggiequarium]

747 words; some lads fluff of caleb praising u bc i deserve it (n so do u) :x

-

you trudge your way towards the kitchen, hunger evident after spending almost two hours reading and taking the first quiz of the semester, not even a week into the class.

seriously, what was up with that?

you let out a sigh when a voice rings you out of your thoughts.

"hey, pipsqueak!"

you're greeted by the familiar warm voice that makes any leftover tension in your shoulders ease almost instantly.

before you can respond, only being granted enough time to blink up at him, he speaks up again.

"finally droppin' in to say hi?"

you ignore his tease as you close the short distance, arms spreading to embrace him. he immediately welcomes you, one strong arm encircling your waist and easily pulling you towards his side, other hand preoccupied with the food cooking on the stove.

you nuzzle into the warmth of his side, breathing in his comforting scent, closing your eyes to bask in all that is him.

"m' hungry," you whine against the cloth of his shirt.

"is that all you see me as? your personal chef?"

"yes!" you answer playfully and all too quickly.

in the next second, you jolt, feeling a small slap against your ass.

"hey!"

he only laughs in amusement.

"so mean," you pout. "i was studying so hard, and i'm getting punished? how cruel..." you bury your face into his shirt, playfully sulking against him.

he hums, hand sliding up to your head as he pats your hair, other one using the tool in hand to stir the food in the pan.

"what, you want some praise or something?" he teases, not expecting an actual answer.

"yes," you answer maybe just a touch fast, looking up at him expectantly.

your honesty takes him by surprise for just a moment before a grin between teasing and loving crawls up his lips, setting the utensil down to reach over and turn the stove on low, hands now free to fully focus on you.

he looks down into your bright expectant eyes, all his attention on you, and you feel your heart race just a little bit faster in anticipation.

"you did so well, working so hard just a couple of days in," caleb coos at you, petting your head lovingly, nails lightly tracing at your scalp resembling a massage. he loves the way that satisfied grin creeps up your lips as you practically melt against him as you chase his touch, resembling a cat rubbing up against the affection its receiving from its owner.

his large hands slowly slide down the sides of your face before landing on your warm cheeks, almost engulfing them in his hold, squishing them just slightly and gently rubbing them.

"such a good girl, aren't you?"

the way your eyes slip shut and a sound akin to a pleased mewl escaping you as a response is something that makes his heart stutter in his chest.

even after all this time, you're still so cute to him.

"you must be hungry after working so hard, huh?"

you nod in response, hugging him closer, stealing his warmth almost trying to blanket yourself within it. as one of his hands slides down your back to rub gentle circles into it and the other one up to caress your head, you think you'll be able to fall asleep against him like this.

he chuckles warmly, feeling your body slump against him more and more with each passing minute, face buried into his chest. as much as he wants to stay like this, he doesn't want the freshly made lunch to go cold.

he slips his hand from its place on your back moving it to your shoulder, gently shaking you while the other pats your head twice, just slightly firmer than before. his voice comes out hushed in the gentle atmosphere that surrounds the both of you.

"hey, you don't want the food to get cold now, do you?"

you gently shake your head, and his hand— now flat on your head— moves it just enough to make you look back up at him, bleary eyes cracking open to meet his creased sunset ones.

"let me feed my smart baby and then we can nap together, yea? would you like that?"

"mhmm," you hum, giggling when you feel him maneuver your head to make you nod in agreement, almost not giving you a choice (not that you'd ever reject such an offer from caleb).

he smiles at your reaction, eyes dancing with mirth.

"you deserve this, after all. come on," he pats your head one more time, an obvious show of his affection for you for as long as you could remember.

"let's eat now, together."

just as it should be.

-

a/n: i just need some physical affection + some praise from him and i'll be easily fulfilled

-

[mariasont]

I love your fics so much! Could you maybe make a pre-relationship fic of Spencer x reader Spencer rescues the reader from the unsub and calms them down?? I'm a big hurt/comfort girly lmao 🫶🏼😛

Pulse Point - S.R

a/n: thank you so much!!!! so sorry for taking so long! i hope you like it <3

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: undescribed injury, lil bit of angst with a happy ish ending, pre-relationship ending

wc: 1.6k

Spencer had seen you in danger before. It came with the job—a stipulation of the unwritten contract you signed the day you joined the team. His mind had been conditioned to assess danger rationally, stripping away emotion to leave behind only what mattered: probabilities, outcomes, strategies. 

But then again seeing you, tied to that chair, unconscious and face drained of color, was something he wasn't sure any amount of mathematical modeling could prepare him for.

Your head had hung at an unnatural angle, the strands of hair clinging to the sweat slicking your skin in a way that sent a visceral wave of nausea rolling through him. Rope burns—thin, angry welts were already bruising—encircled your wrists. He couldn't breathe—his chest seized, ribs locking tight, as though his body itself couldn't handle the image of you in that state. The unsub's voice had faded into white noise, irrelevant against the single, all-encompassing command that had pounded in his head—get to you, get you out of here.

Now, sitting on the cold concrete of the clearing zone with you cradled against his chest, Spencer's mind spiraled in a loop—that singular thought repeating, relentless, fractal, like a Fibonacci sequence winding tighter and tighter around his sanity. The unsub was subdued—Morgan had handled it efficiently—but Spencer couldn't bring himself to focus on that, let alone process it. The edges of his awareness narrowed, his entire world reduced to you. Limp. Unresponsive. Alarmingly still. It made his heart pound so violently it felt like it might break him from the inside out.

His hands wouldn't stop shaking, a trembling he couldn't stop no matter how hard he tried. One arm braced under your knees, the other pressed against the curve of your back. He adjusted his grip carefully, terrified of moving you the wrong way, terrified of doing anything that might make things worse. His eyes flicked to your chest, tracking the uneven rise and fall of your breathing. Too shallow. Too inconsistent. But there.

Twelve to twenty breaths per minute—that's the normal respiratory rate for an adult at rest, he recited, mind retreating to the relative safety of cold, clinical facts. Yours, he estimated, was faster—high twenties, maybe—an expected adrenaline response to trauma. It was within the acceptable range. It should have reassured him. As long as it didn't drop below eight or spike above thirty, there was no immediate cause for intervention. The logic was sound. The science was sound. But that did absolutely nothing to stem the gnawing unease twisting through him.

Then you started to stir.

It was subtle at first, so subtle he almost thought he imagined it—a small, almost imperceptible sound slipping past your lips, the softest shift of you head against his shoulder—but it sent a jolt through him nonetheless.

Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy, the muscles in your face tightening with confusion as consciousness gradually took hold. Relief bloomed, but it died just as quickly. Recognition didn't follow. Instead, your expression twisted, your features contorting with something feral, something deeply afraid. Your breathing grew erratic, breaking into rapid, shallow bursts that rattled your frame.

And then you started thrashing.

"No, no—get off me!" Your voice cracked, raw with fear.

He tightened his arms just enough to stop you from hurting yourself.

"Hey, hey—stop! It's me—it's Spencer!"

You didn't react to his voice. It was as if you couldn't even hear him. Your body twisted violently, fighting something unseen, nails scraping at his vest, frantic and clawing, desperate to escape.

Spencer swallowed thickly, forcing himself to focus on what he knew. This was textbook trauma response. Cortisol and adrenaline were flooding your system, hijacking your prefrontal cortex, reducing your mind to survival instincts alone. It all made perfect sense—he could explain it in detail, rationalize it. But none of the logic in the world could prepare him for what it felt like to hold you like this and not be able to fix it.

"Look at me. It's Spencer. You're safe now. I promise, you're safe."

The words didn't seem to do much, falling flat and useless. Spencer felt a crushing helplessness as he watched, paralyzed while panic consumed you in a way he couldn't stop. His mind scrambled, clawing through years of knowledge, training, and case studies, all of which felt painfully inadequate now. It was one thing to understand trauma as a concept, to study it in a clinical detachment. It was another to watch it consume someone you cared about, to feel it in the way your body shook.

But then—finally—something shifted.

You froze. Not the rigid, terror-fueled panic from before, but something different. Tentative. Uncertain. Your breathing stuttered, still too fast, but the wildness in your eyes began to ebb like clouds parting just enough to let a sliver of sunlight through. You blinked, once, twice, and then your gaze locked onto his face, really seeing him this time.

"Spence..." Your voice was hardly above a whisper, like a fragile filament of sound, barely there but enough for his chest to ache all the same.

Relief washed over him so fast it left him lightheaded. 

"Yeah, it's me," he said softly, nodding quickly as though the motion itself might convince you. "It's just me. You're okay."

Wide eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, stared back at him as though searching for something—anything—to hold on to. The air felt like it was holding its breath, waiting. And then he saw it—the exact second the realization hit that you were safe. The fear in your face melted, replaced by something fragile, something breaking open. Your lip quivered, your breath hitching, and then, without a word, you lunged forward, throwing your arms around his neck.

Spencer froze.

He wasn't exactly new to your hugs. They didn't happen often—his aversion to touch usually kept that at bay—but when they did, they were always simple. After a particularly hard case or when the job felt overwhelming. But this? This was not that.

For a split second, his brain failed him entirely, unable to keep up with what he was seeing. He honed in on the small details—the way your hands clutched his shirt in tight, desperate fists, the way your trembling body seemed so much smaller than he ever remembered. He'd never seen you this way. The realization terrified him in ways he couldn't articulate.

But then that rare instinct of his took over.

With painstaking care, he wrapped his arms around you, like he was afraid you might break apart in his hands. One hand slipped to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair, softer than he thought himself capable of. The other stayed pressed firmly against your back, holding you to him, refusing to let go—because letting go felt unthinkable, impossible. He leaned into you, his cheek brushing against the top of your head, breathing you in. The familiar scent of your shampoo was still there, but beneath it lingered something sharper, something more metallic that made his fingers sink deeper into the hold.

"It's okay," he murmured, every word scraping against the tightness in his throat. "I've got you I'm not going anywhere."

He felt the sharp hitch of your breath against his chest, followed moments later by the damp heat of tears soaking into his shoulder. You were crying. The realization hit him like a physical weight, and his arms tightened around you instinctively. He wasn't sure who was shaking anymore—you or him. Maybe both.

He shifted his hand slightly on your back, his thumb brushing against your shoulder blade. But even as he tried to comfort you, his brain kept ticking like clockwork, unable to stop itself. Your pulse—it was still too fast. He could feel in beneath the pad of his fingers, pounding just under the surface of your skin.

The medics needed to get here soon.

His fingers moved without thinking, sliding to your neck, pressing lightly against the artery there. He told himself it was necessary, just a routine check to make sure nothing was wrong, but he knew better. It was selfish—a desperate need to feel the beat of your pulse under his fingertips, to remind himself you were here. Alive. That the worst was behind you.

It was fast, just as he'd predicted, but steady. Stable. A good sign.

Spencer let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, shoulders sagging. 

"You're okay," he murmured softly, though he wasn't entirely sure who he was trying to convince anymore.

He closed his eyes.

Minutes passed by, though they both felt impossibly long and far too short. You stayed against him just like that, breathing slowly evening out until the jagged edges of panic dulled into exhaustion. He said nothing more—words felt unnecessary, maybe even counterproductive. So he just held you.

When the sound of footsteps finally reached his ears, Spencer didn't move. Not until the medics appeared in his peripheral vision, and even then, he hesitated, tightening his grip on you for just a fraction of a second before forcing himself to let go.

"Hey," he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you. "The medics are here, okay? They're going to take care of you."

You nodded, but it was hesitant, your eyes swollen and puffy, and you clung to him just a little longer. Your hand wrapped around his sleeve like you were afraid to let go.

Spencer's eyes flicked to the medics, his voice low but insistent. "Be careful."

The medics nodded, stepping in to take over, and Spencer reluctantly released his hold. His arms felt empty, hollow, as they fell to his sides. Even as the medics worked, his gaze stayed glued to you, his eyes tracking every breath, every faint movement. He couldn't look away. Wouldn't.

It was then he realized a dangerous idea, that he cared about you more than he should, more than was professional. And it terrified him.

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[littlexdeaths]

i get off - e.m.

perv eddie munson x perv fem reader

you don’t know that i know, you watch me every night…

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: voyeurism, masturbation (f & m), eddie is lil peeping tom but reader loves it, they both steal each other’s shit, oral (f receiving), fingering, cum eating, choking, spanking, dirty talk, mean!dom eddie, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, squirting, they both are nasty freaks

a/n: this is another edit and repost from my old account. it’s one of my favorite fics so i had to move it over here. enjoy freaks xx. 😘

based on i get off by halestorm

word count: 3.8k

you’re sprawled out on your bed, fingers running through your drenched folds. clad in only an oversized iron maiden t-shirt and a pair of knee high socks, you’re everything he’s ever wanted. plucked directly out of one of his dirtiest fantasies.

you can feel his eyes on you, you always do.

not that he realizes that.

and while you’ve lived barely ten feet apart for your entire lives, eddie has never had the courage to make a move.

so he settles for this— watching you through his bedroom window.

fantasizing that the delicate fingers now dipping inside you were his. and the fist currently wrapped around his thick cock was smaller, softer. yours.

the first time he witnessed you like this it was a complete accident.

you had been pent up all day, and didn’t think to shut your bedroom curtains before slipping your hand inside your panties. the bedside lamp bathing your room in a muted yellow hue. eddie had been working on a new song, guitar perched on his lap.

he was frustrated with trying to string together this new melody, glancing up in utter annoyance. that is until his gaze drifted towards the window, his eyes widened and his cock stirred in his jeans.

you looked beautiful, you always did. however this was the most vulnerable state you could be in, and the fact that he got to witness it— made you all the more enchanting to him.

he’d be embarrassed to admit that watching you touch yourself made him cum in his jeans, completely untouched. and that first time you were none the wiser, not noticing the dark eyes that were trailing your figure. but once eddie had gotten a taste he couldn’t get enough.

eagerly waiting by his bedroom window to enjoy his new favorite nightly program… you.

you weren’t sure exactly how long he’d been doing it for, but the night you caught him in the act, it awoke something within you. while eddie made sure to keep his bedroom light off, the moonlight was not on his side that night.

it had filled his room in a soft white glow, highlighting his pale skin. his naked form perched on the edge of his unmade bed, stroking his shaft in tandem with each thrust of your fingers.

his moans are what gave him away, as your eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure. but he’d gotten a little too carried away, thinking about how pretty your pussy would look stuffed full with his cock.

the thin walls of the trailer doing nothing to conceal his sounds. when your eyes finally opened, you were met with the most glorious sight you’ve ever seen.

eddie fucking himself into his fist, his head tilted back as he spilled all over his ringed fingers. the image alone had your eyes rolling back, body shaking as your orgasm ripped through you. one of the most intense you’ve ever had, and from that night on you always kept your curtains open.

desperately chasing that euphoric feeling again.

while you didn’t always see him, you knew he was there. the feeling of his greedy eyes on you was enough to have you cumming harder than you ever have in your entire life. your whimpers were muffled but still rang through his ears as he’d make a mess all over his hand and chest.

different images of you— on your knees, on top of him, taking you from behind, or his favorite with his head buried between your thighs.

it was slowly driving him crazy, and he couldn’t seem to get enough of you. he needed more. he quickly found himself staring out his window any chance he could. gazing longingly as you floated around your bedroom.

he watched you change, get ready for the day, study with your college textbooks. your pencil resting in between your teeth. eddie knew it was wrong, that if you ever found out you would be revolted.

if he only knew it was the exact opposite, and how you couldn’t finish without feeling his eyes on you. but you also needed more, desperate to feel his weight on top of you. his mouth trailing over your skin, his cock stretching you out perfectly.

so you became bolder, going as far as to leave your bedroom window open. letting your moans drift through the night air, teasing him further.

and when you noticed some of your panties had gone missing it only heightened your desire for him. knowing he was in your room, touching your things… holding your panties up to his nose as he came all over himself.

grunts of your name escaped his pouted lips, and his left yours as you drenched your fingers. but it wasn’t enough.

you needed him.

fueled by your insatiable lust you found yourself gazing at him more and more. as he sat on his messy floor, playing guitar or working on a dnd campaign. focusing intently on his fingers, and imagining just how good they would feel inside you.

but your favorite was when he was fresh out of the shower. his dark curls were drenched, water dripping down his inked chest. the patch of hair that disappeared beneath his towel drove you absolutely mad.

so you took a play out of his own book, sneaking into his room while he was working at benny’s. or coming home late from a gig at the hideout, surrounding yourself in everything that was so distinctly eddie.

eddie honestly wasn’t concerned when a few of his shirts had gone missing. or a pair of his cum stained boxers, a guitar pick… as he lost things all the time. he simply chalked it up to his forgetful nature, either he misplaced them or lent them to someone.

that is until tonight, as he peered through your window for what felt like the millionth time. his heart was in his throat as he instantly recognized the iron maiden shirt adorning your frame as his.

the realization dawns on him that you knew exactly what he’d been doing this whole time… and instead of being disgusted or upset, you liked it. enough so that you began doing the same thing to him.

that epiphany made any reservations or fears he still had fade into nothingness. the male decided that he couldn’t sit back and only watch you anymore.

he had to have you.

the brunette rose to his feet, pulling a pair of sweatpants over his long legs before slipping out of his bedroom window. quickly dropping onto the ground as he walks the short distance to your adjoined trailer.

his large hands grip the bottom of the window sill, pushing it open the rest of the way before he’s hoisting himself through it. a small gasp leaves you as he tumbles inside and onto your bedroom floor.

eddie is quick to get up onto back on his feet, as you eagerly eye the obvious tent in his gray sweats. he licks his plump lips as he practically sizes you up. he stalks forward like a predator, slowly crawling onto your bed and between your spread legs.

the male grabs your wrist, coaxing your fingers out of your drenched cunt. raising them up to his mouth, slipping them between his lips with a deep groan. “such a dirty little girl, aren’t you?”

for once you’re speechless, his actions jumbling your already fuzzy thoughts. you never imagined he’d actually come through your window, like you’d been dreaming about for weeks.

“speak for yourself, munson…” your confidence suddenly comes rushing back, pushing your fingers deeper into his mouth. feeling your wetness pooling onto the bed sheets as he swirls his tongue around them.

“guess we’re both a little dirty, huh baby?” eddie chuckles as he removes your fingers from his mouth, now leaning over you.

letting yourself fall back against the pillow, his face mere inches from yours. this is the closest you’ve ever gotten to him, now noticing the light freckles dotted along the bridge of his nose. the dimple that indents his cheek as he smirks down at you, little things that you found utterly endearing.

his hands begin drifting down your sides, his smirk only widening as you shudder beneath him. “is that what does it for ya? you like being watched, sweetness?” he grips the fabric of his shirt, starting to push it up your torso.

you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you. “i get off on you…” you slowly trail your lips up his throat, sucking harsh bruises onto his pale skin. the male letting out a husky moan as you nip at his ear, “getting off on me.”

eddie curses under his breath before he’s pinning you down against the mattress, his lips crashing against yours. your fingers tangle in his wild curls, kissing him back just as forcefully. all the pent up sexual tension and desire now spills from both of you, as his hips rut into yours. you can feel his hard length pressing onto your thigh, causing you to moan into his mouth.

your impatience seems to get the better of you as you grip onto one of his wrists, guiding his large hand in between your thighs. a not so subtle way of telling him exactly what you wanted, the male nips at your lower lip before he’s leaning back onto his knees.

he spreads your thighs even wider, as his dark eyes zero in on the mess between them. his fingers dip between your folds, gathering your sticky nectar on the digits. swirling them around your swollen clit before moving lower.

the metalhead teases you as he circles the tip of his middle finger on your entrance. barely pushing it inside you before removing it, a wet squelch filling the room. “oh listen to her purr for me, baby… you want my fingers inside you?”

you nod frantically, lifting your hips up in an effort to get him closer to where you needed him. but he pulls them away immediately, causing you to whine from the loss. eddie grabs your cheeks in his hand, squishing them together as he meets your hooded gaze. “i asked you a question, sweet cheeks.”

he watches as your eyes glaze over more, the dominance he was exuding turning your brain to mush. “and i expect an answer, or is that pretty little head of yours too fucked out for me?” his tone is condescending, borderline rude but it only seems to fuel the fire in between your legs.

you let out a soft whimper, the male letting go of your cheeks to trail his sticky fingers down your jaw.

“need your fingers, eddie…” the male chuckles, wrapping his hand around your neck. hovering his face over yours, his thumb stroking the column of your throat.

“need them where, hm?”

you’re quickly becoming impatient, and he can tell from how your lips jut out into a pout. thighs closing in around his own, in an attempt to feel some kind of friction.

“come on now… don’t ya wanna be a good girl for me?” he can see the effect those words have on you, your pupils dilating and your breath hitching in your throat.

“put them inside me.”

while your tone is meant to be demanding, it comes out as more of a plea than anything else. your heart is racing in anticipation as his fingers trail down your stomach. cupping your cunt in the palm of his hand, “and what do good girls say?”

you now realize your mistake, the male raising a brow as he awaits your answer. “please touch me.” eddie is quick to reward you, plunging two fingers into your awaiting heat.

“see? now you’re learning,” another string of curses leaves his mouth as your walls tighten around his fingers and a high pitched moan falls from yours.

“shit sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight.” he curls the digits up, watching in awe as your back arches off the mattress.

“fuck i need to taste you,” he mumbles more to himself as he lays between your thighs. his tongue darting out, encircling your clit with an urgency you’ve never experienced with anyone else before.

the noises you’re making are music to his ears, and while he’s heard them before— you’ve never sounded quite so needy. pride blossoms in his chest knowing it was because of him, you needed him. he was making you feel this good.

your thighs begin to tremble as he increases the pressure of his tongue, pumping his fingers faster.

“m-more need more.” while eddie wanted to reprimand you for not using your manners, he’s been waiting to have you like this for far too long.

but he’d make sure you didn’t forget next time… if there was a next time. he hoped there would be.

he slips a third finger inside you, the long, thick digits reaching places you never realized existed until now.

and now that you knew what they felt like, your own would never suffice again.

“aww pretty thing, you gonna cum?” he chuckles mockingly as the sound vibrates against your core.

the feeling only aiding in bringing your release that much closer, as your eyes flutter shut. a harsh slap on your thigh has them flying back open, your eyes meeting his as he looks up at you from his position between them.

“eyes on me,” his tone is stern, commanding as his tongue returns to assaulting your swollen bud.

as you start to grind your hips up against his mouth, it pushes his fingers even deeper inside you. hitting that sweet spot that has you crying out a broken, “oh god, please.”

eddie hums against you, increasing the speed of his fingers. “i prefer master… but god has a nice ring to it.” if you weren’t on the brink of an orgasm you might have found that funny, not registering his soft laughter as he sucks harshly on your clit.

the sensation is what finally sends you over the edge, your thighs squeezing around his head and trapping him there.

not that he would ever dare complain.

once you settle back into the mattress is when he pulls away, crawling back up your body towards you. your excitement covers his chin in a light sheen, now tasting yourself as he kisses you with a bruising force.

you reach for the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down his legs. feeling his cock rubbing against the bare skin of your thigh, and you want nothing more than to feel it hard and heavy on your tongue.

“wanna taste you too, eds,” you whine as he trails his lips across your jaw, sucking onto your skin. as much as he would love to have you gagging on his cock, his impatience had reached its peak.

“next time, sweetness… need to be inside you.”

you clench around nothing at the thought of him filling you up. the promise of a next time making your heart flutter beneath your ribs.

eddie unwillingly untangles himself from you, now standing at the edge of the bed to remove his sweats. his cock stands at full attention as you sit up, eagerly crawling towards him. your mouth waters at the sight, finally able to admire him how you’ve been dying to for the last few weeks.

you wrap one of your hands around the base of his shaft, glancing up at him as you lick up the pre-cum that was smeared across his pink tip. the male grips a fistful of your hair in his hand, tugging you off his dick as a small whimper leaves you.

“hands and knees— now.” he nearly growls at you, releasing you as you continue to look up at him in a daze.

“don’t make me repeat myself, baby.”

and as much as you would love to test how far you could push his buttons, that would be saved for a later date. so you do as you’re told, crawling away from him now on your hands and knees.

feeling his eyes trailing over the plush skin of your ass, “take a picture, munson, it’ll last longer.”

what you don’t expect is to hear the snap of your polaroid camera, whipping your head around to see the shit eating grin he was sporting. setting the camera and picture down on your dresser once more, “just following orders, sweet cheeks.” he chuckles, crawling onto the bed behind you.

eddie lands a firm smack on your ass, his chest now draped across your back. his hot breath fanning over your neck as he leans forward to whisper in your ear, “face the mirror, you aren’t gonna wanna miss this, baby.”

your thighs clench together, now turning to face the full length mirror that stood across from your bed.

you glance at yourself briefly before your eyes trail upwards, now meeting his in the reflection. a cocky grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, his hands now roaming the full expanse of your ass.

feeling the tip of his cock brush against your core, pushing your hips back so you could feel more. eddie’s calloused hands grip you tightly, stopping any further movement on your part.

“don’t be fucking greedy, you’ll take what i give you.”

you squeak out a small apology, keeping your eyes focused on him as he rubs the tip of his cock through your folds. gasping once he slowly pushed himself into your awaiting heat, a strangled moan tumbling from his lips.

his eyes squeeze shut as he bottoms out, his balls flush against the curve of your ass. you feel incredibly full, the stretch so divine it makes your head spin.

“eddie, please.” you mewl, watching as his brown eyes meet yours.

desperate for him to do something— anything.

eddie’s rings dig into your hips, his eyes glancing down to watch as he slides his cock back out. groaning as you’ve already coated his length in your arousal, a sight he’d only ever seen in his dreams.

“gonna give you everything,” he grunts before slamming himself back inside, knocking the air out of your lungs as you fall forward onto the mattress.

you grip the edge of it for support as he continues to rock his hips into yours, this new angle allowing him to rub against your sweet spot perfectly. keeping your eyes locked on the mirror, the image of him behind you— thrusting into you will be seared in your memory forever.

the black ink swirling on his skin, the light sheen of sweat on his chest. the veins in his forearms that are much more noticeable as he grips you tighter. he looks more like a greek god than anyone had a right to.

your jaw is slack, mouth hanging open as you continue to watch him. the little ‘uh uh uhs’ that leave your lips mix with the sound of your skin slapping together. now filling the quiet space of your bedroom.

“taking me so well— this pussy was made for me.”

eddie moans, completely distracted by the way your pussy flutters around him. the creamy ring that’s formed around the base of his cock expanding with each thrust of his hips.

“look at me,” you whine, that signature smirk returning to his features as he meets your eyes in the mirror once more.

“aww poor little, baby,” he coos, slipping his hand between your thighs and landing a harsh slap on your already sensitive bud. “always need my eyes on you… don’t you?”

a string of curses slips past your lips as you nod your head. “need it,” you whimper as his calloused fingertips circle over your clit. “need you.”

your words seem to have quite the effect on him, a low growl leaving him as he fucks into you even harder.

“what do you need me to do, pretty girl? tell me.” it takes you a minute before you can answer him, the male having fucked any coherent thoughts from your head.

“n-need it inside.” is the best you can manage, but eddie understands all too well.

it’s what he had hoped you would say, “yeah, you want me to fuck you so full? ruin this pretty little pussy for anyone else?” your eyes roll back in your head, as the male wraps his other hand around your throat.

he handles you like a rag doll as he pulls you up, your back now flush against his sweaty chest. the action forces his cock even deeper inside you, brushing against your cervix. his hand that was wrapped around your throat is now cradling your jaw, guiding your gaze back to the mirror.

your half lidded eyes watch as he leans forward, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, “this pussy is mine now, got that, sweetness?”

it’s suddenly all too much, the rubber band in your middle finally snaps as your body trembles in his embrace. cries of his name and ‘yours yours yours’ tumbling from your mouth.

the brunette watches in amazement as you drench his thighs, your bed sheets— the pressure almost forcing him out completely.

the metalhead curses as he continues to bounce you on his cock, the wet squelching of your pussy finally sending him over the edge. grunting as he pumps you full of his cum, your body falling limp against his chest.

you’re both panting as you come down from your highs. his touch on your hips is much more gentle than before as he coaxes you onto your back.

you hum contently, eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion hits you. eddie cradles your face in his palms, pressing soft kisses to each of your eyelids before his touch suddenly disappears.

your eyes fly open in alarm, reaching out for him as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, “don’t worry… you aren’t rid of me just yet.”

eddie chuckles as he spreads your thighs apart, his dark eyes watching intently as his cum drips out of you. pooling onto the bed beneath you, making an even bigger mess of your sheets.

his head dips lower, inhaling as he gathers the mixture of both your arousal onto his awaiting tongue. moaning before diving in deeper, “shit, we taste good together.”

“too much,” you whimper, wiggling your hips away from his eager mouth due to the oversensitivity.

eddie presses a kiss to each of your thighs before he joins you once more, collapsing next to you with a boyish grin on his face. you reach out to trace the stubble along his jaw, your fingertips brushing over his plump lips.

you feel him release a shaky breath against your fingertips, the look he’s giving you makes your stomach do a little flip.

“so… is it too late to ask you out on a date?”