#to hypothetically be their sparkling | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

a-ikuoliver · 5 months ago

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it's all in your head, i'm inside your head and you're never gonna get me out

pairing: hitoshi shinso x f!reader w/c: 2.1k warning/s: DUBCON/NONCON, brainwashing, female!reader, prohero!mindjack, just a lot of staring lmao, please lmk if i missed anything notes: based on this thirst inspo/acknowledgements: MY LOVER @definitelynotsaint FOR ALL UR HELP I WOULD BE NOTHING WITHOUT YOU MARRY ME PLEASE <3 + earworm by cottontail

crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

"you seriously think you could beat him?!"

"you act like he's huge, kami, i have more chance with brainwashing than electrification. if i stay quiet, what's he going to do?"

"have you ever fought the guy?"

the argument had been going on for about… twenty minutes now, most of your other friends already filtering out of your place, but you'd trapped the blond, and subsequently shinso with your argument over the hypothetical: would you rather fight kaminari or shinso?

this was by far the most passionate you'd been so far, answering earlier versions of the question effortlessly: would you rather wear kirishima or mina's costume to a wedding (mina's), have an uncontrollable quirk with raw power or a perfected, slightly below average quirk (master of one). the moment sero proposed the final question, your eyes landed on his, your eyes glowing with smugness when they met his bored amethyst iris's, a spark of interest when you parted your lips to argue your point.

shinso remained reserved throughout your argument with the blond, studying a chip in the deep purple paint on his thumb idly, breathing slowly, evenly, apathetically despite his ears burning any time you'd say his name (his heart rate spiking every time, even with each word out of your mouth being a teasing jab of his lack of sheer power in comparison to you).

"why don't you test it sometime?" his voice is gravelly, nearly cracking after sitting in silence for so long, quietly nursing the last few mouthfuls of his drink while he peered at you; the animated way you spoke, the sparkle in your eyes every time you'd tease him, the curve of your neck when you'd toss your head back at something someone said. swallowing the final drops of the amber liquor, your attention is drawn back to him, proud smirk and all.

"what? you don't think i could fight you?"

shinso quirks an eyebrow at you, an uncontrollable, self-assured grin lazily gracing his lips, "i don't think you could keep quiet."

your mouth drops open to defend yourself, your glare growing more and more fiery as you spin to face him. he could prove it right now, brainwash you the moment the first syllable leaves your mouth, command you to remain completely still while he binds you, leave you wrapped neatly in the binding cloth to wake up in, leave you stuck while he revels in his victory. he could do it right now, annul your challenge before it could become anything, before your ego could swell even bigger.

"is that a challenge, mind jack?"

no, it's no fun to melt your wings before they're built, not until you're halfway in the air, dangling precariously over the raging sea, completely ignorant to the dangers below, complete trust in your makeshift wings.

offering you his hand, he ignores the apprehension in kaminari's golden eyes, "you wanna make it official?"

patience is a virtue, something hitoshi has to remind himself of frequently; patience, hitoshi echoing in his mind when you patrol by his side, promising to protect him from any villains, pulling him behind you if even a mouse came across your path. patience, hitoshi when you mock kaminari for fearing the muscular mans brainwashing, asking if he feared the boogeyman, too. PATIENCE, HITOSHI, it's like a mantra when you smirk up at him, your unspoken promise of beating him hanging in the air between you before you'd even part your lips to greet him.

a virtue, a true miracle he was blessed with such patience.

so, he waits, biding his time until the perfect moment, the absolute perfect time. it was spring now, weeks after your proposal, the scent of pear blossoms beginning to float through the sky. along with the sweet scent in the air, humidity made it grow thicker and thicker, as his patience grew thinner and thinner with every step closer to you.

"hitoshi!" you answer cheerfully, like you normally do, a bright smile on your curved lips, unfaltering even as your friend stares at you with burning eyes, costume awry and his dark hair mussed, pushed back from his forehead, "you look like shit."

the tension inside his body was ready to snap, a rubber band stretched far beyond what he could handle; hearing one too many jabs from you, (today, a text of your merch, a little plush of yourself that you offered, free of charge, to protect him on patrols when his brainwashing fails).

"you should see the other guy."

"oh, i'm sure you really showed him."

"you going to invite me in or just insult me?"

"aren't you going to make me? or not ready to accept the truth? i know it's hard."

he snorts, relaxing against the door frame, deciding today was the perfect day to claim his victory. to pop your ballooned ego.

"let me in," his voice is smooth, your eyes drawn to his lips at his low timbre, lips parting slightly. you feign stepping aside, dropping your head into an overly dramatic bow, only meeting his eyes again after a long moment, the smug sparkle still shining brightly in your pupils.

"huh, sorry, i don't think it worked," you stand straight once more, fixating on your limbs as if searching for a reason why his quirk hadn't worked, stretching each finger as if just to confirm your autonomy, to confirm his lack of reach, even into the weakest parts of yourself.

your wax wings spread wide, curling over shoulder blades, strapped around biceps, wrists and fingers, nothing but clear blue skies ahead of you, bright eyes zeroing in on the searing sun. you've forgotten all about the deep sea below, no concern for the waves crashing over the jagged rocks at the cliffs edge, of the current dragging helpless creatures further into the depths. what did you have to worry about the peril below when you could take to the sky? you wings will carry you far from the danger lurking in the murkiness.

"let me in."

like a baby bird, struggling to leave its nest for the first time, your wings fail you, cracking, burning, melting, sending you careening carelessly into the frigid depths below.

unlike your act, you can't feign when his voice, his quirk seeps beneath your skin, settling in your veins, in each wrinkle and valley of your brain, invading your nerves. your eyes go blank, inky pupils dilating minutely. no more burning hubris reflecting back at him, there's only the endless darkness he can watch himself in, the heat in his own eyes. the hunger. you obey (of course you do), your hand falling limply from the door frame as you finally step aside, welcoming him inside.

"aw, where'd all that talk go?" he grins, tilting his head condescendingly, arrogance oozing from him in waves as you stare at him, defenceless in his clutches, his hold the only thing keeping you from slipping into the depths, further from the sky you greedily sought. you're silent (of course you are, hitoshi hasn't commanded you to speak), a ditsy, dumb, blank look on your face as he steps over the threshold onto the genkan.

"close the door." you do, your arm falling back to your side as soon as the latch clicked.

"kneel." you do, heavy limbs bending and bowing until you were seated at his feet.

"take my boots off." you do, you make quick work of the hefty boots, shimmying them down his calves and over his ankles, his half-lidded stare trained on you, admiring your casual shorts riding higher and higher on your plush thigh when you leaned forward to place his boots at the edge of the step up into your home, the pair sat neatly, side by side.

"you're so good, so obedient," his voice is low, his tone would have you addicted, itching to hear his faux praise again and again if you could remember it. leering down at you, hitoshi is certain you'd snarl at him if you could, bear your fangs, bite and threaten him. rather, you're pacified staring up at him, doe-eyed like this he can imagine how you'd keen instead, how you'd lean into his touch when he pats your head, how your eyes would blur when he calls you pretty, dizzy and dumb nuzzling into his hand.

it was cute, laughable, he has to admit, studying your vacant stare with deep amethyst eyes, the way you really thought you could overpower his quirk, that you could win against him.

"such a good girl, aren't you? yeah?" shinso's thick gloves tangle your hair in tiny knots at the top of your head every time he pets you like a well-loved house dog, "how about you get me a drink, too?"

god, he wants to record you, to rub your nose in how well you behaved for him, blindly following every instruction and he didn't need to spend a single yen on training clickers or treats. shinso mulls over the decision for a second, just long enough for your chest to rise once more, your eyelids to drop in a blink; the expression on your lips when he would show you how pathetic you look is nothing in comparison to you rebuilding your wax wings every time you break out of his brainwashing, not remembering a thing; your attitude and teasing returning again and again, week after week when he knows exactly how pretty you look when your mind was a blank slate for him to carve any thought into.

by the time he's mulled over the decision, you've led him further into your home, back towards your the kitchen where the bet was born, where you began building the wings that would betray you.

opening the cupboard that housed the glasses, the tips of your fingers just bump the vessel with a light tink when his pink lips part to command you once more, "stop."

you pause, waiting oh so pretty for your next instruction.

"i could tell you to do anything right now, you know that?"

you stand like a marble statue, only blinking when your eyes burn.

"i could tell you to bark like a dog, and you would," you're silent, eyes staring forward even as he disrupts the air around you, tracing a gloved finger over the bare skin of the back of your thigh, just to watch the goosebumps unconsciously form in his wake, just to do it without your burning glare. "tell you to sit pretty, to shake, to roll over. would you like that, baby?"

shinso runs his bare pointer finger up your spine, tracing the nape of your neck until he buries his hand in your hair, tugging your head back and forth to nod along with him, "i knew it, you're just a pathetic, obedient little thing."

again, he manoeuvres your head to nod (he knows he can command it, but sometimes he likes getting his hands dirty).

"bend over," hitoshi tugs his gloves off, placing the pair carefully beside you on the counter, admiring the arch of your back as your tits squash against the stony counter. you were a fucking sight, something he'd never forget until the day he died; the image of you bent, dumb, drooling burnt into his retinas.

obsidian eyes follow every rise and fall of your chest, roaming over the expanse of your body, every sliver of bare skin catching his attention, taking his time to admire while you can't argue with his perversions. wide hands are drawn to your ass like a moth to the flame, the curve of your plush skin hardly covered by the fabric, even more so when he kneads the fat of your ass, squeezing and spreading anywhere he can reach.

"should i take these off? hm?" he toys with the waistband of your shorts, as if waiting for you to reach around and shove him away from you, to call him every name under the sun, to threaten his life if he even moves an inch closer, lays one more finger on your skin.

you don't.

"yeah, i bet you'd like that." shinso chuckles to himself, hooking his fingers under the elastic and tugging them easily down your hips, leaving them to pool around your ankles, left only in your shirt and the cutest cotton panties, marred by an ever-growing dark patch at the centre of your cunt.

"filthy little thing," his smile widens, a predatory stare locking onto the wet patch, tracing the shape of your pussy over your panties just to watch it widen, "you're so fucking perverted, huh? bet you've been waiting for me to try something like this."

his cock is aching in the tight constriction of his suit, he's acutely aware of how uncomfortable it would be to go home with cum staining his boxers, but he can't find it in himself to care, not when that would mean taking his eyes off of your clothed, drooling cunt.

"you wanna know something?" he hears the gentle buzz of a streetlamp igniting outside your window, hears your gentle breaths, you don't answer.

"i can't brainwash you into getting wet, baby, this is all you."

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

#shinso hitoshi x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinso smut #shinsou smut #shinso x reader #shinsou x reader #「mercury writes」#「shinso <3」

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rinsoap · 7 months ago

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best friend! suna who makes you new playlists all the time. the names are inside jokes with you, little things he whispers in your ear late at night. the description always says, "for y/n". sometimes it has a little message explaining why he made it alongside the dedication, but he never fails to remind you, it was made for you and only you.

"for y/n. songs that remind me that time at the park." "for y/n. just songs that reminded me of your face. "for y/n. songs for when you're sad. hope it cheers you up."

best friend! suna who always know when something is off with you. he can tell from just the shaky delivery of a sentence or the small tremble of your lip, he knows. he hates seeing you like this, he'll do anything to see your pretty smile. words aren't his thing, he'd rather listen to you for hours, even if you're just venting the whole time. anything to make you feel a little better.

"what was that?" "what was what?" "you know. you did a weird nervous laugh when you said that." "stop that's just how i laugh don't make fun of me" "no you laugh completely different don't lie. come on, tell me what's wrong. i'm here, i got you."

best friend! suna who's favourite thing is your movie nights. your legs draped over his thighs with his arm around your shoulder. you glance over at him, and he's already staring, glow of the tv flickering on his face as he studies your face back. his eyes keep dropping to your lips, so when you give him a smile and a slight quirk of your eyebrow, he cocks his head before turning back to the movie. the next morning, you wake up on his couch and in his arms.

"what are you staring at, huh?" "what? nothing. just... it's nothing. i, um, i like how you did your makeup today. looks nice." "oh, i did it differently today! thank you!!! how'd you even notice that? it's so dark!" "just got sharp vision, i don't know damn. now pay attention to the movie. don't even know what's going on." "you're the one who was staring at me???"

best friend! suna who playfully calls you princess whenever he does you a favour. despite his frequent complaints, he secretly loves treating you like a princess. he knows you deserve it. so when you ask him to pick you up from a party you don't want to be at, he grabs his keys as soon as soon he sees the text, like he always does, no matter how late it is. he'll tease you, telling you he's not coming as he's starting the car. he just likes toying with you. when he picks you up, you slide into the passenger's seat with a sigh, expressing how hungry you are and begging him to take you to the nearest drive thru. he protests, but he drives you to a burger king trying to suppress a smile.

"really now? what am i? a personal butler?" "i was thinking more like righthand man. like smee from peter pan." "i'm definitely the captain hook out of the two of us but okay whatever. are burger kings even open this late?" "well can't we see? pleeeeease rinnie i'm so hungry i'll eat a whole cow" "fine okay, whatever you want princess. just to save the hypothetical cow though."

best friend! suna who doesn't drive you home quite yet. he pulls into a spot by the beach, a cliff overlooking the water sparkling under the moonlight. a playlist of love songs he made you plays as background to your conversation as he looks out on the view while you aid the song in filling his silence. you're hardly eating the burger he bought for you, so caught up in speaking. he looks to you, leaning in to listen more intently and you instinctively match him and close the distance between you. he nods in agreement to a long rant you've been going on about, stumbling over your words when you realize how close he is.

"you're giving me that look." "what look?" "i don't know. the one from the other night. when we were watching howl's moving castle." "oh. right." "does my makeup looks good again?" "yeah, i mean... it always look good, you know. you always look good." "oh, well, thank you rin you're sweet" "only to you, princess."

best friend! suna who hooks his finger under your chin to lift your head to his, bringing you into a gentle kiss. his other hand finds yours resting on the centre compartment to carress your skin with his thumb. when you pull apart, both of you don't say anything. you smile at each other, forehead to forehead, and there is a silent agreement that words could never be enough.

ᵎᵎᵎ ִֶ ࣪ ⊹ ֶָ ، 𓂅 the song playing in the car: infrunami by steve lacy

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jmliebert · 18 days ago

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When Nanami Has a Crush on You ♡

on the surface, Nanami appears as calm and collected as ever, but internally...he’s conflicted. somehow it's hard to maintain his self-control when you are near

though he tries to remain stoic through it all, subtle signs betray him... (if you look close enough you can see his fist clenches whenever he watches you interact with other men or when he's frustrated with what he said or did in your presence)

he doesn’t force interactions but cherishes the moments when he accidentally runs into you. those fleeting encounters brighten his day, and he silently wishes for more

notices and compliments the small details about you, each remark dripping with charm. also his soft, almost shy smile and a light scratch of his head during these moments make this even sweeter. it's surprising even for him, how he acts when he's with you (as I said his self-control fades..)

always prepared. Nanami is there with a napkin, an umbrella, or just the right amount of time to spare. he’s happy to share breakfast with you, insisting on paying—not out of any outdated notion, but simply because it’s you, and he wants to do something kind

and when he sees you enjoying a simple sandwich, he catches himself wishing he could feed you himself, loosening his tie slightly as he tries to shake the thought away (oh!)

when you compliment his suit, his eyes widen slightly, but he quickly masks it with a smooth, “oh, you think so?” you might not realise the impact, but he’ll wear that suit more often

his small, seemingly innocent touches send shivers down your spine. at first, he’s observant and reserved, trying to process his feelings and it takes some time, but as he becomes more certain, his confidence grows, and he begins to act more directly

eventually, he’ll invite you to dinner at a place that’s both elegant and cozy. he arrives to with a bouquet of red roses, complimenting your beauty with heartfelt sincerity. you are so luminous and full of grace, he could stare at you for hours, and he would do it gladly

at dinner, he’s the perfect gentleman—offering champagne, helping with your seat and coat. his eyes never leave yours, brows raised slightly with every word you speak, soaking in your every word

conversation flows effortlessly. you talk about everything—hypothetical scenarios, life, dreams, philosophy and literature—and while Nanami enjoys the discourse, he can’t help but steer it back to you. he wants to know you deeply, genuinely

as the night goes on, he finds himself unexpectedly moved by how easy it is to be with you. he can’t remember the last time he felt so at peace, so effortlessly himself

as he walks you home, your sweet smile and sparkling eyes full of life completely undo him. he hadn’t planned this—he was in it for the long game—but you, standing there like this, make it impossible to resist. gently, he cups your chin and presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. when you respond, his long-restrained passion breaks free. his kisses grow deeper, more urgent, as his hands pull you closer. a single strand of his hair falls across his forehead as your breaths mingle, the space between you almost nonexistent. the air feels charged, every shared breath heavy with anticipation

but he pulls away, knowing it’s the right thing to do, even though it feels impossible to watch you walk away, heading to your flat alone (he watches you until he sees the light in your window flicker on)

somehow the thought of you being there all alone...at night...without no living soul to talk to does things to him. the desire to care for you, be there for you, to provide for you never was so prominent, so strong and going home alone was never so hard for Nanami

that night, he’s too overwhelmed to sleep. at 4 AM, he sends you a message, unable to hold back, and waits anxiously for your response, even knowing it’s a little over the top

and now he can't help his chest tightening at the mere thought of you...it feels so good, as if the fog has finally lifted, but at the same time it feels scary, he might like you a tad to much, it's getting out of control (which is good hihi)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

oh, i wanted to write it so bad!!

you can find more of my works ♡here♡

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beansprean · 3 months ago

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Sam like 'they keep telling me its their anniversary but when i ask 'of what' they change the subject

Support me on Patreon!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Full body of Charlie, hair in a short curly bob, wearing a tee shirt and jeans, lounging in the drivers seat of a car at night. The seat is tilted back and there is a crumpled flannel shirt on her lap as if she had been using it as a blanket. She has one foot propped up on the dash and one arm behind her head, the other hand holding up her phone. She smiles incredulously at the screen. Text overlay shows her conversation with 'Tall Sam'. Sam: Hey what's it called when a guy is mostly into girls but also sometimes guys? Charlie: Omg Sam r u coming out to me [star eye emoji]? Sam: No it's for someone else. Charlie: Bisexual btw. Other options but lets start there. Sam: Thanks. Charlie: U rly couldnt google this? Had to text your one gay friend for backup lol. Sam: There were a lot of results I didn't want to get it wrong sorry. Charlie: Never wrong when ur labeling urself sammo! And dw ive always wanted to be someones gay Yoda. [gif of Yoda nodding and saying 'learning you are']

2. Full body of Sam wearing a flannel and jeans, sitting on a stool against the kitchen island in the bunker, his laptop open in front of him, both thumbs tapping on his phone with a worried frown. Behind him, Dean and Cas stand close together in front of the stove, Dean - who is wearing an apron - holding out a wooden spoon for Cas to taste from. Cas is obediently leaning forward to take a bite. Text overlay shows Sam's conversation with 'Charlie B' continue from his perspective. Sam: AGAIN NOT FOR ME. I am...gay-Yodaing by proxy. Because I know this person would never ask. Charlie: Omg is Dean finally hopping on the rainbow road with me?? Ive been saving his seat. Sam: Just a friend of mine!! Anyway I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to out someone without permission Charlie! Charlie: Dam u got me. #1 rule in the Gay Code of Conduct. Sam: And I'm insulted you were more excited about Dean being hypothetically bisexual than me. Charlie: I'm sorry. I would welcome you with open arms [sparkle heart emoji] [rainbow emoji]. Sam: Thank you. Charlie: And I know several dudes who would welcome u with open legs. Sam: ENDING THIS CONVERSATION. Charlie: [gif of Yoda saying 'i sense much fear in you'] /end ID

#spn #supernatural #supernatural cw #hellerween #november 5 #nov 5 #deancas #destiel #mlm #sam winchester #charlie bradbury #dean winchester #castiel #my art #fanart #image described

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maopll · 10 months ago

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"Enough with the what would you do if I was a worm let's talk about what would I do if YOU were a worm !"

You slammed your desk on the counter looking at your boyfriend with eyes that show dedication and spirit.

"Why would I ever turn into a worm?" he gives you a puzzled look.

"No we are just assuming like hypothetically ! So listen with your eyes and ears !" you run across the counter and whip a chair and sit beside him as if you were about to piece quantum theory.

"I'm listening" he crosses his arms and rests his chin on them.

"So first of all I have a criteria... I'd throw you or feed you to the chickens near the market if you were ugly"

He looks at you with disbelief in his eyes "you'd throw out your boyfriend of so many years?..."

You then quickly say to lighten up his mood, "But! I probably won't throw you once I know you are my boyfriend !"

You stand up and move over to him and wrap one hand around his neck, while the other draws an impression of something on the air.

"I'll bring a big terrarium for you! I'd fill that with your favourite plants, you favourite log of wood ! and even feed you premium worm feed as well!" Your eyes sparkled like they had stars in them.

"But..." your shoulders slump and your voice softens," I wouldn't like it if you become a worm... that means that I would get neither a fulfilling kiss or an affectionate cuddle from you"

He looks at you with wide eyes. That was the thing that he least expected to hear from you but a part of him also makes him feel like it was to be expected because... that's just how you are.

"So don't turn into a worm— mmmhph ???" Before you could even finish your sentence, he kissed you on the lips while pouring all his love, he tried to hide his face but the red hue on his cheeks were a dead giveaway to how much he was blushing.

"Idiot... I'll never turn into a worm..."

— NEUVILETTE, wriothesley, WANDERER, ayato, ALHAITHAM, zhongli, DILUC, XIAO, welt, DAN HENG, blade, DR RATIO, luocha, jing yuan, LUCIFER, SATAN, leona, VIL, MALLEUS, Jack, RIDDLE, AZUL

tagging: @fictoculus @poison-demon @mitsvriii @pianopuppygirl @sleepy-waffle

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maskedbyghost · 1 month ago

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Hiii I just read your stalker!reader and simon fic it got me hooked. I just wanted to ask if you don’t mind, what if reader was just obsessing simon because reader thought he wouldn’t care and once simon cornered reader they would pull a “I don’t like you anymore” which drives simon crazy

Anyways feel free to ignore this!! It’s just a thought💗💗💗

this idea had me laughing so hard, i just had to write it. the thought of simon losing it over a 'just kidding, i'm over you' moment? priceless. here's my take, hope you enjoy! ❤️

part 1

it wasn’t supposed to end like this: you, pinned to the wall of a supply closet, simon standing way too close, his hands braced on either side of your head, glaring at you through his mask.

you hadn't planned on blurting that of all things. but there it was.

i don’t like you anymore.

the words were still fresh in the air, and if the sudden twitch of simon’s eyebrow meant anything, it had definitely hit a nerve.

“what did you just say?” his voice was quiet, but you could feel goosebumps all over your body.

you crossed your arms over your chest, ignoring the heat crawling up your neck. “you heard me. i’m over it. totally done. moving on.”

for a moment, the closet fell silent—save for the faint hum of the overhead light. then, simon tilted his head slightly, his body still leaning uncomfortably close.

“so… after all that—bumping into me after missions, conveniently forgetting your jacket in my gear, death-glaring half the team for talking to me—you’re suddenly done?”

“yup.” you nodded, refusing to let the panic slip through. “done like burnt toast.”

simon blinked.

“burnt toast,” he repeated, voice utterly deadpan.

“well, yeah.” you said. “toast burns, it’s done, right? i’m the toast in this scenario.”

something like sheer confusion flashed in his eyes. he stepped closer, closing the gap.

“you’re lying.”

“i’m not!”

“uh-huh.” his sarcasm was evident even behind the mask. he crossed his arms, looking almost annoyed now. “so you just ‘got bored’ of stalking me one day? that’s your story?”

“i wasn’t stalking you,” you huffed.

simon raised a single finger in rebuttal. “you memorized my coffee order and put it on my desk unprompted four times this week.”

“you drink black coffee!” you exclaimed. “that’s not stalking—it’s paying attention. for example: you’re six feet tall, brooding, and you skip breakfast unless someone makes you coffee!”

“sure, sherlock,” he muttered.

your face heated, but you doubled down. “well, it doesn’t matter because i. don’t. care. about. you.” you punctuated the words dramatically, pointing a finger on his chest.

simon simply tilted his head again, staring at you like you suddenly grew three heads. finally, he sighed.

“fine.” he shrugged casually, stepping back just enough to pull his gloves tighter. “you’re not into me anymore? that’s great. guess i can start chatting up jessica. she’s been awfully nice lately—”

“like hell you will! the woman who puts ketchup on scrambled eggs? sir, i thought you had standards.”

“so you’ve been keeping tabs on her now, too?”

“…no! i just noticed! once!”

his gaze was practically sparkling with smug victory. “thought you didn’t care anymore.”

“i—” you faltered, realizing you’d just obliterated your own argument. “i don’t! i was just… hypothetically!”

simon snorted, the sound far too smug for your liking. “you’re terrible at this, love.”

you glared up at him, your dignity hanging by a thread. “you’re impossible.”

“maybe.” he took a step closer, his broad frame crowding you once more. “but i think we both know who the liar is here.”

you groaned, slapping your palms over your face, earning a low chuckle from him.

“burnt toast,” he repeated, still chuckling as he stepped aside, giving you just enough space to escape the supply closet and your embarrassment. “you’re something else, love.”

and from the teasing sound of his voice, it was very clear simon wasn’t letting this go anytime soon.

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@daydreamerwoah @blackhawkfanatic @consciouscarrot

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #simon riley

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littleseasiren · 1 year ago

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Hypothetically speaking

Summary: Hypothetically speaking, Bucky Barnes is the perfect man. You have a list that proves it. What happens when someone overhears you telling Natasha about it?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff

Words: A drabble at 800 words

"All I'm saying is, hypothetically, Bucky is the perfect boyfriend," you whisper to Natasha over the kitchen table.

"And why do you think that?" Her green eyes stare past you, making you nervous for a second before her gaze meets yours. "Hypothetically speaking, of course." Natasha knew how you felt about Bucky but humoured you nonetheless.

You don't hear anything so you continue, "Well, I mean, he's the full package. Just look at what he's like," you chuckle. You lift your thumb as you start counting the points. "He's handsome with his dark hair and his eyes to die for." Your index finger goes up, "He's quiet but authoritative, like the time he saw a guy bothering me at the bar. He didn't hesitate before threatening him with bodily harm if he didn't stop bothering not just me - but all the ladies in the bar." Your middle finger rises, "He's got muscles galore like we've seen when he and Steve burn off extra energy in the gym and take their shirts off." Your ring finger raises, "And he's kind - too kind sometimes. Remember I told you about that time we were stuck in the rain in the middle of nowhere on a mission? He gave me his jacket and stood freezing in the pouring rain for more than an hour while we waited for our pickup." Finally, your pinkie raises, "Then there's the vibranium arm," you say as you drop your hand, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Natasha smirks at the look that crosses your face when you talk about Bucky's prosthetic arm. "What about his arm? Most people would think it's a bad thing."

"Huh, as if! If they think that, then they're stupid. His arm is amazing. The black and gold design makes him look like a masterpiece painting. If I were an artist, I could spend hours watching him, getting every shadow and groove perfectly immortalized on the canvas." You giggle softly before continuing, "He's super strong - even stronger than Steve is, with that arm. He has amazing coordination and precision, and the temperature difference between his human hand and his vibranium hand is awesome. On a hot day, you can hold his left hand without sweating like crazy, and on a cold day, his right hand will be nice and toasty. But the biggest thing?" You take a deep breath, "His arm is vibranium, so I'm 100% sure his arm won't fall asleep like a normal man's when spooning with him in bed. A woman can lie on that arm for hours - I'm sure Bucky won't move an inch. That's the type of man he is..." A dreamy look passes over your face as you imagine yourself in that situation.

A perfect eyebrow raises in question, "Honey, why don't you just tell him you like him?"

"What? No, I don't! I was speaking hypothetically!" You aren't like Natasha, you can't just walk up to Bucky and confidently tell him you like him. Just thinking about it makes you anxious.

Natasha's smile is huge as a shadow hovers over you, making you feel like your heart is beating out of your chest.

Please, please don't let someone be behind me.

"Hypothetically speaking," a deep, confident voice starts behind you, making you drop your head into your hands, "if I do my best to live up to your expectations, would you go out with me tonight?"

You slowly raise your head, seeing Natasha leave the kitchen quietly and Bucky take her spot opposite you.

Why can't I keep my big mouth shut?

You can't meet his eyes, your cheeks burning with humiliation as your eyes focus on your wiggling hands. "Uh, Bucky, how much did you hear?"

This time, Bucky's voice is softer, unsure. "Pretty much everything. I know I shouldn't have listened; I couldn't help myself. Not when I heard your hypothetical. How about it, doll? Do you want to go out with me on a date?"

"Bucky, you don't have to do that just because I embarrassed myself. You don't want to go out with me."

You slowly meet his blue eyes, a smirk plastered on his handsome face. "Of course, I want to, doll. I honestly just never thought you would want to go out with me. You're so sweet and beautiful. I just never thought someone like you would be interested in me. Not with all my baggage." His gaze becomes nervous at your hesitation. "If you give me a chance, I promise I'll do my best not to disappoint you."

Can he be any sweeter? "You could never disappoint me, Bucky. You're amazing."

His face lights up at your honest reply. "So, how about it, doll? Let me take you out on a date. If you play your cards right, I'll let you test your theory on my arm tonight. I promise I won't move an inch if I get to hold you all night long. I won't even cop a feel tonight; I'll be a perfect gentleman, I promise."

You can't stop from giggling, feeling mischievous. You weren't making stupid promises like that, something he might figure out soon if all goes well. "It's a deal, Sarge," you reply as you grasp his hands, shivering from the hot and cold sensation.

This is going to be fun.

Tag List:

@cjand10

@buggy14

@crazyunsexycool

@tripleoyaa

@mandijo17

@fluffysucker

@moviegurl2002

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#bucky x y/n #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barns x reader #bucky fluff #the avengers #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #natasha romanoff #avengers tower #james barnes #bucky x reader #bucky imagine

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dumbsoftheart · 1 year ago

Text

gibson girl

pairing: post-university!coriolanus snow x reader

tags: 18+, mdni. dark themes, heavy mention of drug and alcohol usage, abusive/toxic relationship, calls reader a bitch, degradation, cunnilingus, vaginal sex

summary: “obsession with the money, addicted to the drugs. says he’s in love with my body, that’s why he’s fucking it up.” you and coryo aren’t proud of the relationship you’ve built, but you both can’t seem to get enough of each other.

notes: yes this is a repost because i did not proofread this and got a bit embarrassed. this is probably my most crudely written work, sorry (not!), and for a lack for better words is not as carefully written as my other fics, but i hope you all like it <3 this is probably the last i will write for coryo aside from any continuations of past works for now so soak it all in!!!!!

word count: 3.2k

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in the dimly lit hideaway of pluribus’s nightclub, where pulsating lights of reds, purples, blues, greens gleamed kaleidoscopically against the writhing mass of glittering bodies and thumping music, stood coriolanus snow. he hated the affair, being clamoured in the sweat and smoke of dancing strangers, a complete infiltration of his personal space, and far too stuffy for anyone’s comfort. it was an incongruous occurrence, his presence in the glitter-drenched revelry. clemensia had tormented him that day, with piercing whines of “but it’s your birthday!” and “won’t you ever have fun?”, and there he was, ludicrously dressed in slacks and a half-undone button-up shirt, courtesy of a drunken sejanus, traces of glitter— which he despised, smeared across his face and neck. when arachne had showed up and rubbed her lustre infested fingertips all over his clean-shaven face, he’d wanted to kill her right then and there. he sat there, wide-legged in the private section of the club, fiddling with a half empty bottle of champagne with happy birthday! streamers dangled across his shoulders. he’d had about three of festus’s liquor concoctions, with their repulsively sweet maraschino aftertastes, but amidst the chaotic symphony that had his head spinning, there existed one exception to his distaste for the ordeal—a vision he couldn't bring himself to detest: you.

festus sat next to him, head nodding and lolling to the side from inebriation, and coriolanus kept a distant eye on clemensia and arachne as they disappeared into the dense crowd of hot, glittering bodies. his body yearned for the solace of his bed, plagued by the ache of alcohol and half-hearted dancing that numbed his legs, and the variegated torment of the club's vibrant lights— and then there you stood.

adorned in a cascade of the remnant sparkles that had rubbed off on you as you danced, gold flakes carefully splayed across your eyelids, and a daringly short dress hugging tightly on your hips graced your curves as you moved without care among the chaotic company of the nightclub. when coriolanus watched you beeline into his peripheral, open-backed dress teasingly swaying as you spun in hand with one of your friends, smiling so bright you outshone everyone else in that godforsaken bar, his hands tightened on the bottle held between his legs, and he exhaled slowly through parted lips.

the subtle reaction provoked a slight nudge and a cocky smile from festus, to which coriolanus rolled his eyes childishly at, fixing his gaze between his legs in an attempt to veil the growing want spreading through his veins. festus wasted no time in spewing some audacious insinuations about coriolanus and a hypothetical "dancing girl across the room" to a stumbling clemensia and arachne (“so every girl in here?” arachne had giggled, rippling a current laughter throughout the rest of the group and a juvenile grumble from festus). then, without warning, coriolanus pulled himself to his feet and pushed your way, propelled by a mix of inebriated bravado and annoyance, running a hand through his hair nervously as he (cutely) tried to dance his way to you.

drunk and hazy, you wasted no time in latching your arms around him, flashing him a smile that had him feeling weak and guiding him to sway in tandem with you as the music blared and vibrated through your souls. you’d coaxed his hips to move in consonance with yours, and soon he’d figured out the rhythm you set, his hands delicately enveloping the contours of your waist. he was grinding his hips against the curve of your ass yours in a manner that was far too seductive for a first encounter and had you gasping lowly under the booming noise of music and conversation.

by the end of the night, coryo had bid his friends goodbye with his lips half-attached to yours, and fucked you so good and hard you struggled to walk for a week.

he returned the next weekend, alone, a halfhearted attempt to alleviate his stresses within the familiar embrace of the bustling speakeasy. he needed a drink, and he went to the first place he could think of. he had expected the place to be buzzing on a friday night, but he hadn’t expected to see you again.

he hated smoking, but something about the way you slowly let the dense vapour of your joint escape your lips with a dimwitted smile made his cock twitch. with a swig of whiskey, he made his way towards you, snatching the long stick of cannabis from your fingers and taking a long, hot drag. in a fluid motion, he closed the space between you, blowing the smoke between the parted entrance of your lip-glossed lips with a light hand venturing to your waist. the night continued with you on his lap, high and dazed from both the weed and the delicious feeling of coriolanus’s lips on your neck, sucking and nipping dark marks onto the softness of it. he was marking you as his, and you loved every second of it.

he coaxed you into a few more drinks, cooing words of dirty praise into your ear when you downed the dark liquor from his hands, whispering softly in your ear how much he loved your body, the sweet and sexy suppleness of it, and you became his, entirely. when he beckoned you to take another drag of a joint, you complied. when he whispered into your ear the order of his drink, you fetched it for him, sipping it lightly on his command, and when he bent you over the club’s bathroom sink and ordered you to spread your legs a liiittle further, you did.

after that occurrence, it was like clockwork. he was downright filthy when he fucked you; he’d show up, tense with frustrations from work, and there you’d be, beautiful and seductive as ever, and he would fuck his tribulations into your sweet little cunt like his life depended on it. like he never got tired of it, he’d slowly drag the head of his cock over your slick folds, circle it around your clit and then pound into you sloppily. he’d mumble how dirty you were before loading you with his cum, then he’d flip you over and finger-fuck you to a blissful release, making sure not a single drop of his load escaped your throbbing hole. he especially liked fucking you in the clothes he bought you, ruining the expensive fabrics he splurged on greedily. you’d grown used to the gifts he’d send you. you didn't know how he’d found your address, but you couldn't find it in you to care. the plethora of dresses and jewellery and shoes he sent you, always tagged with a note, for my aphrodite, made up for it. you loved dressing up for him, to his tastes, because it made him desire you all the more. the minute he caught sight of you in his hand picked ensemble, it was impossible to get his hands off of you. he was addicted to you, and how easy it was for him to claim you. just like that, you were his, and he loved even more that you embraced it; showed him off.

coriolanus hated the bright colours of the club, but he adored them on you. he’d always pick dresses and accessories that glinted brightly in the right light, and he’d set the dark private room to a cool silvery blue that was easy on the eyes. you’d dance for him, not because he asked, but because you loved it, and he’d sit smugly and watch, sipping on some dark liquor that you loved to taste on him before pulling you onto his lap with a small laugh and letting you ride him until the sun rose again. when you ground your hips against him, sucking him to the base, he’d string his hands through your hair and moan out pathetically, “i’m never gonna let you go, never gonna let you fucking go,” which was far too intimate for the relationship the two of you had struck, but it only drew your orgasm closer and made your heart swell, the bittersweet combo better than any drug you could take on the market.

he was addicted to you, in every sense of the word. “takin’ my cock so well, baby, fuck” he’d choke out in a high pitched whine, nails digging even deeper into your ass as he slammed your velvety walls into him, “pretty fuckin’ pussy.. sucks me in like it needs me,” his thrusts would get sloppier, your pretty moans egging him on to coax more out of you to satiate his fix. in a moment of vulnerability, he’d peer down at you with his brows scrunched together, lips quivering and ask, “do you need me?”

you were too dumb and fucked out to answer, just as he liked, and he loved to slide a lousy hand to rub circles on your swollen clit while he angled his fat cock in a way that made your body weak and drool escape from the corners of your mouth, and repeat the question until your body shook uncontrollably with pleasure.

“n-need you so bad, coryo, fuck me so good, please, please” you would pant in your breathy, whiny voice, absolutely unintelligible, squirming and shaky.

“tell me again, baby, do you need me?” he’d try to overstimulate the words he wanted out of you, searching your eyes desperately until you croaked out a small yes, and his head would fall into the crevice of your neck as you managed to take almost all of him simultaneously, moaning out as he came inside you.

when things turned slightly sour between the two of you, it only fueled your aching want for each other more. you were insecure, desperate for his approval, and when you sensed a glimmer of his disinterest in you, you were quick to spark up an argument with him; the only way you could figure out to show him you care without explicitly telling him. it was toxic, and part of you loved it. you loved to rile him up, make him so angry he’d brutally grumble in your ear how much of a slut, whore, bitch you were. you loved when the two of you would go at it and he would force you into an empty room, ramble about how much he hated you while he pumped his cock into you at an agonisingly fast pace, and then bring you two to sweet relief with a barely audible i love you, please never leave me, and then send you home.

he hit you, sometimes. it would always happen after sex, when his insecurities got the best of him and he’d strike another argument of his own to form some semblance of conversation with you, then be driven to madness by his own doing so severe that his hand would unleash upon your cheek, staining the soft skin of your mandible a familiar shade of red. when he slapped you during sex, you hated it. you had no means of fighting back and winning, so you combat him with your words.

“you’ll never amount to anything, snow,” slap, and his hand grabbed at your tits crudely, “you can walk around this city and act like you own it,” another slap, then he’d wrap his hand around your neck as he made you cum until your body couldn’t handle it, “and you can try control everything,” slap,“but you’ll never be able to control what matters.”

you tried your best to dig at his biggest fears, vulnerabilities, anything to ignite that shimmer of pain in his eyes so he could feel a morsel of what you did for him. he was coldblooded, and it took more than a simple jab at his ego to make him bleed. you loved him. everyone knew you did, no matter how much you denied it, because you wore him everywhere you went. in your clothes lingered his scent, under them, his bruises, and you were irrevocably his.

you knew how deep you were in after your final shred of patience snapped. coriolanus wanted to play it hard today? fine. and off you were, dancing like a whore in the middle of the dancefloor with one of coryo’s coworkers. he sat and watched you dance with a fire burning in his eyes, his teeth grinding painfully and his hand wrapped around his glass so hard it threatened to shatter (on another occasion, it did). then, when you’d snaked a hand down the drunken man’s abdomen, lip bitten and eyes heavy with lust, he’d grabbed you harshly and stormed out of the club into the cold streets of the capitol, and you smiled. the sound of your heels clacking against the pavement reverberated in your chest. you threw him a loud “fuck you!” as he tugged you out of sight from any passerby, then, without warning, you found yourself pressed up a damp wall by the neck, coriolanus’s thin fingers twisting painfully into your carotid.

“you’re a spoiled fucking brat, you know that?” his hands plunged into your underwear, and he toyed with your clit dangerously fast as he stared you down.

“did you want to fuck him?” the way he spat at you made you squeeze your thighs together. you smiled, mouthing a slow ‘yeah’, groaning when his grip around your neck tightened and your body became lax from the lack of air and his fingers on your dripping pussy. he dropped you, stroked a loving hand through your hair then grabbed your jaw, forced it open, and dug his two fingers down your throat.

“do you think he can fuck you as good as i can, you bitch?”

you gazed up at him, eyes wet and hazy and fucked out with lust, and mumbled with a smile, “mhm..”, he forced his fingers deeper, and you moaned.

“don’t fucking lie,” tears streamed down your face now as you struggled to breathe with his fingers shoved down your throat, and your eyes widened as you heard the familiar sound of his belt buckle, “can he make this pussy cum as hard as i do, hm?”

he hitched your dress up, pushed your panties to the side forcefully, and lined his tip with your entrance while he awaited your answer. you shrugged, slowly becoming dizzy from gagging on his slender fingers, whining from the absence of his touch, and he growled angrily as he began to pound into you relentlessly.

he removed his fingers from your mouth to slap you wide across the face, the slick of your saliva on his fingers causing them bouncing painfully on your cheek, and your smile grew further.

“yeah, you fucking slut, this what you wanted? for me to fuck the sense back into you?”

coryo liked it messy. he loved berating you, degrading you, arms wrapped tightly around your torso and feeling your cunt grow wetter on his cock as he did so. he loved to make you an embarrassing, babbling mess, then force you to watch as he bullied his way into you, a rough hand in your hair as he pumped his cock with an inhuman fervour.

“you like that don’t you? keep watching.”

“fuck, coryo!”

“thats right baby, let ‘em hear who you belong to.”

you pressed your forehead against his, panting heavily through parted lips as you kept your gaze on those sapphire eyes of his that you adored, mumbling incoherent pleads and apologies as your release approached.

“are you going to listen to me?” and with a tear-inducing orgasm, you shrieked cries of yes, coryo, fuck yes! into his shoulder, biting harshly on his pale skin as you tried to quiet yourself.

you walked home that night, panties soaked with his cum and a few new bruises to remember the night from.

this was the routine the two of you had settled in. neither of you were proud of it, neither of you liked it, but neither of you knew how to do it any differently. you didn’t know how to love unless it was through petty quarrels or you were too high to remember the feeling. coriolanus didnt know how to love unless constituted of complete, whole control of you-- and you couldn’t bear accepting his love like in that form, not sober at least. so you let him. you let him destroy you, bit by bit. you would pump yourself full of any and all drugs you could find, down the glasses upon glasses handed to you on his lap, and the two of you would love, the only way you knew how.

when things were like that; desperate and full of unspoken feelings after a tense week of not seeing each other, the private room the two of you often booked would glitter a dark red light, flickering radiantly against the sequins of your dress, and the pearly blonde of his hair; and you’d stand above him, between his legs, stroking the soft hidden curls of his in a haze, feeling so good and loose from whatever he’d given you that you’d giggle without warning, lean close to him and press earnest, loving kisses to his lips in between mumbles of i love you’s. he would nod, tears welling in his eyes, hating how far he had to go to make you feel love for him again, and cradle your face in his hands, kissing you with every ounce of his being. you’d find yourself straddled on his lap, like always, kissing red marks along his neck and his shirt and chest gently as you comforted him, trying your best to wash away his worries and assure him that you did, in your own messed up way, truly love him. he’d flip you over, hook your legs over his shoulders and lap messily at you until morning came. he would do it forever, if he could-- get on his knees and devote himself to eating you out. his hands would grip your thighs like he was afraid you would slip away from him, and he’d rest his head on one of your thighs after making you cum for the third time, staring up at you, breathless, face glistening, and mouth parted like you were everything to him; before diving into the saccharine mess of your pussy again. he knew how to please you like the back of his hand. he knew how to edge his nose against your folds in the way that made you whine and thrash; he knew when to insert his fingers into your gummy walls, how to curl them in a way that had you come undone in a mere seconds, how to kitten-lick his way around your clit with a lewd moan, drag out long, animalistic groans from you that had you gripping his hair so hard you wondered how you didnt rip the follicles straight out his head.

the relentless cycle of passion and pain that defined your bond, the late-night arguments that left scars deeper than their words, the moments of fleeting tenderness that were overshadowed by deceit and manipulation. whatever you and coriolanus snow had made had eroded into a relationship neither of you could understand, but neither of you could let go. you were each other’s life lines, so when he hit you, you thanked him, and when you dug your knife deeper into his heart, he’d tell you he loved you. even as he fucked you up, ruined you, you knew he was doing it out of love, and you were grateful.

౨ׅৎ

@dumbsoftheart, 2023

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow smut #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus smut

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anotherlifelesshawksloverplshelp · 7 months ago

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Sweetness

Dabi x reader!!!

Kudos to Mel, she unintentionally gave me ideas to write and getting me to write it in the first place (I was procrastinating like a mf��)

I took a little turn with it and made it sfw. I was gonna add hints, but honestly I'm happy with it as is.

IF YOU WANT A PT. 2/CONTINUATION WITH A LITTLE SPICE PLEASE REPOST/COMMENT AND SAY SO! Also requests are open for now so feel free to bother my inbox.<333

Content/warnings: Insecurity, scars, (idk if those are necessary but i could understand the tw), just fluff, reassurance, and some love<3 2k

...

"Does it bother you..?"

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It was a late morning. He had been hanging low with the rest of the league for a week and a half now, everyone either recovering, plotting, or taking their chance to just rest. Taking loss after loss was exhausting, so the break was necessary, you thought. Their entire group had years worth of festering emotions, motivations and conviction. Would it be so bad to not sit there and simmer in self pity and loathing for a week?

Dabi had chosen to crash at your place midway through. He didn't mind the group. Whether he was aware of it or not, they were growing on him, but he'd never admit that. But you had grown on him more.

So, when you woke up, turning to see a tired Dabi propped up slightly against your pillows, being dragged out of thought by your stirring and shooting you a sidelong smirk, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of sleepy joy sparkle in your chest.

"G'mornin', doll.." he murmurs, his voice sultry, laced with a deep exhaustion that he'd never admit out loud, masking it with his cocky tone. You smile at him happily, scooting a little closer.

"Morning, Tou'..." You snuggle against his arm a bit which he absorbs, letting it feed his ego. He slid that arm under you, wrapping it around and pulling you up against him, looking down at you with those cool blue eyes.

"Like what you see?" Is always the first thing he ever said to you, whether you guys were out and you looked at him to ask a question, meeting up at the hideout, him stumbling through your window with burns and blood. Something he said without thinking just to get something out of you. His way of saying “hello” or “I see you.”

You nod regardless, used to his arrogant demeanor by now. Your eyes trail the way the white sheets wrapped at his waist contrasted his dark burns along his stomach, the way his staples glimmered with the morning light pouring through the thin, airy curtains, following the curve of his smirk back to his eyes. You stretch up, pressing a little peck to his cheek which he chuckled at like you were amusing, tugging you a little closer, tracing lazy shapes into your back. He lays back a bit before humming "Go back to sleep, doll, I ain’t going anywhere."

You look up at him, tracing the sharp, messy edges of his hair, the way it contrasted to your light room, tracing back down to his glistening staples. You gently reach up and graze his skin, trailing it down his neck to run along the staples on his chest.

He glanced down at you as you do so, the sensation sweet but dull, a muffled cry to his damaged nerves and thickly grafted skin. His smirk faltered, now just watching you quietly, the way your eyes were drawn to his skin...

"Does it bother you?.."

Your eyes snap up to meet his, furrowing in question. You were used to random or hypothetical questions from him, more often than not posing questions just as an exclamation, like "Who would've thought?" with humour before elaborating, or "Isn't it funny..?" before going on a rant about something having to do with society or heroes. But this... something about his tone was different. You could feel a sudden shift in his demeanor seep into your skin as you rested against him, chest feeling oddly heavy.

Does what bother me?.." You ask quietly.

"My skin. Does it bother you?" He asks again, strengthening the foundation of his tone again so it'd sound more natural to him, but you weren't going to let go of what he had first offered. Your motions stop, reaching up and running your thumb down the staples on his chin before cupping his cheek gently.

"Of course not." You say in gentle disbelief that he would ask that question. You search his eyes as they watch yours, totally still. His large free hand raised to brush against the side of your face, cupping around your ear, stapled palm against your cheek which you leaned into.

He took in the action, watching you with almost sad yet unreadable eyes. He was so expressive in his own ways. He thought he was so slick, but deep down he was just a kid when it came to people. When it came to himself. He’d sit there and argue your lectures when he’d go do something particularly bad or get hurt, answering with short, snarky responses, but his eyes would convey the guilt he felt. He’ll ignore, yell, or disvalue his teammates at face value, but you’ve seen the way he still counts the heads in the room, or his eyes will flicker with concern in a tight situation. He wasn’t inhuman just because he had baggage and some scarring, and your heart ached that he couldn’t see that. That he couldn’t understand you saw him.

“Don’t give me that..” He murmurs, feigning minor irritation at the look you gave him, but it was more than that. He averted his gaze, opting to look at the wall. He was shutting you out.

You huff softly, giving his hand on your cheek a squeeze at which he glanced at you in the corner of his eye.

“I don’t need you to pity me.” He states.

��I’m not pitying.” You say shortly, eyes flickering across his expression, the slightest pursing of your lips as you look at him.

He scoffed like he didn’t believe you, and you couldn’t entirely blame him. Nobody likes to accept words offered to them when they feel someone doesn’t have a true understanding. You got a little closer, not overwhelmingly so, but enough to reassert your presence, desperately trying to show you were here for him if he didn’t understand it any other way.

“Your scars don’t bother me. You don’t bother me. If you did, you wouldn’t be in my bed at night. If you did I wouldn’t be bringing you food despite your protests, not caring if you eat it all, just wanting you to eat something. And I think you know that, Touya.”

That’s right. How could he have given you his name? You knew he cared, and he knew you cared enough to share that with you. The name itself made him happy and sick at the same time, but the way you uttered it so sweetly, with genuine care. You could see him. Although nothing could outweigh his goal against his father(which he hadn’t spoken about with you yet, he’s just not ready), maybe your affection was good enough for now.

He shifted to face you a little more, not entirely on his side, pulling you in close with a sigh. He didn’t like being vulnerable or anything like that, but he didn’t like when he had to shut you out too. He made a steady compromise, pressing a kiss to your forehead with a huff.

You didn’t know if it would be right to say you loved his scars or not. They were a part of him, whether anyone liked them or not, but you did. Not whether or not they were attractive, or tolerable, but simply because of him. It was a part of his story. It showed his past and what made him who he was now, but it didn’t define him either. If you didn’t like them, then you simply wouldn’t like him. You didn’t know if that was necessary to say to him or not, but in your heart you held it as your truth for him. Instead you simply say..

“I love you, Touya. I’m not going to hate you for something like some skin…”

He looks at you. He knew it could be repulsive. He should know, he lived in it. Skin too tight for himself, scars that he had to stare at everyday, some days it felt more real than others.

You cup his face and kiss the tip of his nose. “I promise, baby.”

You were too good for your own good, he thought. He didn’t care about your past, anything you may or may not have done. You were too sweet. Sugar that flooded his bitter existence.

“Damn…I love you too, doll.” is all he muttered, but it was sincere. He sounded a little choked, but you knew better than to expect anything to dampen his lashes. You sigh softly, pressing featherlight kisses along where the large scarring patches met the fresh skin, your touch incredibly careful.

He appreciated it. Although you couldn’t hurt him, his nerves being too damaged for anything you do to bother him, the muted sensation of your skin on his was still loved by him. Your affection over the skin he hated so much lifted his heart greatly, you adorning him with love and care steadily chipping away at his rough exterior. What had he done to deserve you?

You reached up, pressing a reassuring kiss on the staples on his chin, watching you sending him a shiver through his entire body pleasantly. It was intoxicating when you loved him, and he swore you damned him into an addiction.

Your eyes flicked between his, searching gently as his gaze rested on you before pressing a loving kiss to his lips, him reciprocating softly to convey how he loves you back. He can’t help but be handsy either, one hand moving to your ass, the other to your hip to keep you close, humming lowly against your kiss.

You prop yourself up a little on one arm to adjust the angle to deepen the kiss, which he obliges to, leaning in a little.His hand on your hip slid to your thigh to pull you up and over so you were straddling his hips, tongue grazing your lower lip as a request, but not forcing it, which you allowed.

His hands trailed up and down from the small of your back to your thighs, touch light and teasing in contrast to his usually harsher grip. He was never this soft. You knew he wanted you, he made that very clear all of the time you two had been together, but it was never really like this.

He was admiring you. Yes he held an attraction, yes he loved you, but he didn’t always look at you like this. You’d get his approval here, his protection there, but this was different. You cupped his face, breaking the kiss to watch the way his gaze softened over you, looking up at you, his expression almost sad. You peppered his face with kisses. His forehead, his brows, under his eyes, all along his cheeks. He drank it all, basking in your affection, eyes fluttered shut as you did before cracking a smirk and catching your lips once more to stop you.

“Hey hey hey, leave a little room for air, wontcha?” He chuckles, his voice and tone a sweet break from the previous conversation, which you giggled to. He stopped you and pulled you to his chest, hand on the back of your head as he held you there softly, sighing, a sigh that expressed the genuine relief he felt deep in his chest.

You loved him. And he was coming to terms with loving you too. Maybe there was something else to live for other than hate after all. One other thing that would make this inevitable march towards his death worthwhile. Maybe…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#mha #bnha #Dabi x reader #touya x reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #mha dabi #bnha dabi #bnha touya #mha touya #dabi mha #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #fluff #mha fluff #bnha fluff

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kisses-for-you · 4 months ago

Text

oblivious - e. diaz

eddie diaz x fem!reader

summary: eddie struggles with his growing feelings for you while his friends encourage him to confess.

w/c: 2.4k

Eddie Diaz stood near one of the fire trucks, his hands resting on the warm metal as he wiped the sweat from his brow. It had been a long day filled with calls, but the laughter of his friends filled the air, momentarily pushing away the stress of the job. However, Eddie's mind was somewhere else entirely — on you.

You had become a regular presence at the station since you started volunteering with the local community program. Your infectious laughter and compassionate heart drew everyone in, but for Eddie, you were something more. He admired your kindness, your determination, and the way you could make everyone smile, even on the toughest days. Yet, as he watched you joke with the others, Eddie felt the familiar knot in his stomach. He hadn't told you how he felt yet and it was becoming harder to keep it to himself.

"Hey, Eddie!" Buck's voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. "You with us, buddy?"

Eddie looked up, trying to shake off the thoughts that had enveloped him. "Yeah, sorry. What's up?"

Buck exchanged a knowing look with Chimney and Hen. "We were just talking about how you've been looking at Y/N lately. You sure you're not in love with her or something?" Buck teased, a wide grin on his face.

Eddie felt his cheeks heat up at the mention of you. "I'm not in love with her," he said a little too quickly. "I mean, I like her, but…"

"But what?" Hen leaned forward. "You're saying that like it's a bad thing. She's amazing!"

"Exactly," Chimney chimed in. "You should go for it! Tell her how you feel."

Eddie felt trapped under their gaze, glancing over to where you were chatting with Bobby. You seemed completely oblivious to the attention you were receiving. "I don't know, guys. It's not that easy," he muttered.

"Why not?" Buck pressed. "You're a firefighter! You run into burning buildings for a living. How hard can it be to talk to a girl you like?"

"Have you ever tried talking to a girl you really like?" Eddie shot back. "It's not the same as saving someone from a fire."

"Fair point," Buck admitted, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "But still, you've got to give it a shot."

Just then, you turned toward them, your bright smile lighting up the room. "What's going on over here? You all look like you're plotting something."

"Just trying to convince Eddie to make a move," Hen said with a wink, her voice low but playful. Eddie felt his stomach drop. "Hen!" he hissed, but it was too late.

Your eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Make a move?" you echoed, tilting your head slightly. "On who?"

"Oh, you know… just some hypothetical situation," Eddie stammered, scrambling for a plausible excuse. "Like, uh, if someone were to have a crush on a certain volunteer… not that I do!"

The others snickered, and Eddie shot them a warning look. You, still oblivious, laughed lightly. "Well, if that someone needs any advice, I'm all ears," you said with a playful smile before returning to Bobby, leaving Eddie flustered.

"I'm never going to hear the end of this," he groaned, covering his face with his hands.

"C'mon, Eddie! Just talk to her!" Buck encouraged.

"Yeah, otherwise, you're just going to keep suffering in silence," Chimney added, clapping him on the back.

Eddie took a deep breath, his heart racing at the thought of confessing his feelings. Maybe it was time he finally told you. He glanced back at you, now once again chatting with Bobby, your eyes sparkling with laughter. If only you could see how much he cared for you.

The teasing continued throughout the evening, with Buck taking the lead. "So, Eddie, do you have any grand plans for your 'hypothetical crush'? A romantic dinner? A moonlit walk? A firehouse dinner date?"

Eddie groaned. "I don't know, Buck! Maybe I'll just write her a letter or something."

"Now you're talking!" Hen exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "You could even leave it in her car or something! Super romantic."

"Yeah, just like in the movies," Chimney agreed, clearly enjoying teasing Eddie.

Eddie was torn between embarrassment and amusement. "You guys are ridiculous," he said, shaking his head with a chuckle.

The night wore on but Eddie's mind was elsewhere. As they wrapped up their dinner, he watched you as you helped Bobby clean up. He genuinely thought you were the most beautiful person he'd ever seen, and he felt a wave of longing wash over him.

"Okay, Eddie. We're heading out for the night," Buck said. "You coming with us?"

"I think I'm going to stick around for a bit," Eddie replied, feeling a mixture of excitement and dread. "I want to talk to Y/N."

"Good luck, Romeo," Chimney teased as he and Buck grabbed their things then headed for the door.

As the station quieted down, Eddie approached you as you were wiping down the counter. "Hey," he said, his voice low.

"Hey, Eddie!" you said, looking up with that warm smile that made his heart flutter. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to… um…" Eddie stumbled over his words, suddenly remembering all of his friends' teasing, making him even more nervous. "I wanted to thank you for everything you do around here. You make this place so much better."

You blinked in surprise, your smile widening. "That's so sweet of you to say! I really enjoy being here. You guys are like family."

Eddie chuckled softly at your words, giving a small nod. "And I really appreciate it. You've made a difference in my life."

You looked down for a moment, a hint of shyness creeping into your expression. "You know, I was thinking about how much fun we all have together. It's nice to have such good friends, especially with everything going on recently."

"Yeah," he agreed, his heart pounding. "I've been thinking about that too."

You looked back up at him, your brows slightly furrowed in thought. "Eddie, is something on your mind?"

This was it. Eddie took a deep breath, his heart racing as he prepared to finally tell you how he felt. "Y/N, I-"

Just then, the door swung open, and Bobby stepped in, interrupting Eddie. "Hey, guys! Did I miss anything?"

Eddie felt his chance slip away, frustration boiling under the surface. "No, just- nothing," he muttered, trying to regain his composure.

Bobby raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing the tension. "You okay, Eddie?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Eddie replied, forcing a smile. "Just talking."

You looked between the two men, your brows once again furrowed, but this time in confusion. "We were just talking about how much I enjoy being here," you said, your tone light.

Bobby nodded, not knowing he had just interrupted and ruined Eddie's confession. "That's great! The more, the merrier. We're lucky to have you."

As the conversation shifted to a different topic, Eddie felt a sense of defeat wash over him. He couldn’t believe he had lost his chance. Maybe he should just give up. After all, you didn't even seem to notice his feelings. But as the night went on, he realised that he couldn't give up that easily. He had to find a way to express himself, no matter how hard it was. Maybe he would take the advice of his friends and write you a letter. It seemed like a good way to get his feelings out without the immediate pressure of a face-to-face conversation.

A few days later, Eddie decided to act on his plan. He spent his lunch break writing a heartfelt letter, pouring out all the emotions he had bottled up for so long. He wrote about how much you meant to him, how you brightened his days, and how he admired your strength and compassion. Once the letter was finished, he folded it neatly and slipped it into an envelope. He sat for a moment, contemplating whether he should really go through with it. But then he thought about his friends’ words and your smile, and he knew he had to try.

Later that evening, as you were leaving the station, Eddie took a deep breath and approached you. "Hey, Y/N! Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Of course!" you replied, eyes lighting up with curiosity.

Eddie fumbled with the envelope in his pocket, his heart racing. "I… I wanted to give you something." He pulled out the envelope and handed it to her.

You looked surprised, your eyebrows raising slightly. "Oh! What is it?"

"Just read it," Eddie said, trying to keep his voice steady.

You nodded, your fingers trembling slightly as you opened the envelope. As you unfolded the letter, Eddie held his breath, watching your expression shift from curiosity to surprise, then finally to something softer. Your eyes scanned the paper and Eddie could almost hear the rapid thumping of his own heart echoing in his ears.

"Eddie…" you began, your voice barely above a whisper. Your gaze flickered from the letter to his face, and he could see the mix of emotions swirling in your eyes — confusion, surprise, and a hint of something else he hoped was excitement.

"Do you really mean all of this?" you asked as you folded the letter carefully.

Eddie nodded, his throat dry. "Yeah. Every word. I know I haven't been great at showing it, but I care about you a lot, Y/N. You make this place — and my life — better just by being in it."

A soft blush crept up your cheeks, and you looked down at the letter again, the corners of your mouth lifting into a smile. "I had no idea you felt this way," you replied, your tone sincere. "I thought you were just being friendly."

"I was trying to be," Eddie admitted, his nerves easing slightly. "But it's hard to ignore how perfect you are."

Your smile widened and you took a small step closer to him. "Eddie, this means a lot to me. I can't believe you were brave enough to write all of this. It's beautiful."

His heart soared at your words. "I just felt like I had to say it. I've been thinking about it for a while now, and I didn't want to miss my chance."

Your expression softened and Eddie could see you processing everything. "You know, I've always thought you were incredible too. You're kind, dedicated, and you care about everyone around you. I just didn't know if you'd ever see me as more than a friend.”

"Trust me, I do," Eddie said, taking a step closer. "I've been trying to figure out how to tell you for weeks."

You laughed softly, your eyes sparkling. "Well, I'm glad you finally did. I just wish I'd noticed sooner. I do tend to be a little.. oblivious sometimes."

"You're not the only one," he replied, a smile spreading across his face. You both chuckled at that.

“So, where do we go from here?” You asked, your gaze landing on his face, searching for answers.

Eddie’s heart raced as he contemplated the question. "How about we start with a date? Just you and me. I'd love to take you out to dinner — somewhere nice, where we can actually talk."

"I'd like that," you said, your expression brightening.

Eddie grinned, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "Great! I'll plan something special. Just tell me anything that I should avoid."

"Definitely seafood," you said with a small laugh. "I'm not necessarily a fan of fish."

"Noted!" Eddie replied, a warm smile on his face. "No seafood. I can work with that."

Later that evening, Eddie joined his friends in the common area. They were scattered around the table and he felt a sudden surge of confidence. "Hey, everyone!" Eddie called out, catching their attention. "I have an announcement."

Buck leaned in, curiosity piqued. "What’s up? You finally figured out how to ask Y/N out?"

Eddie chuckled, his heart swelling with pride. "Actually, I did. We're going on a date!" The place erupted in cheers, and Eddie felt a mix of embarrassment and excitement wash over him. Buck jumped up, clapping him on the back. "I knew you could do it!"

The following days you and Eddie exchanged texts, planning your date. He learned about your favorite foods, your love for your hobby, and your aspirations for the future. Every conversation brought him closer to you, making him fall head over heels.

Finally, the day of the date arrived. Eddie found himself pacing around his apartment, checking the time and making sure he looked just right. He had opted for a casual but nice outfit — dark jeans and a fitted shirt.

When he arrived at the restaurant, Eddie felt a rush of nerves. But as soon as you walked through the door, looking gorgeous in the outfit you had picked out, all his anxiety melted away. You greeted him with a smile, and in that moment, he knew he had made the right choice.

"Wow, you look amazing," he said, his breath catching in his throat.

You blushed, your cheeks turning a shade of pink. "Thank you!" you respond, suddenly feeling too shy to say anything else.

You were seated at a cozy table with soft lighting, and as you began to chat over dinner, Eddie found himself captivated by your stories. You spoke all about your recent volunteering activities and your dreams. Eddie felt lighter than he had in a long time, as if the weight of his nervousness had lifted, replaced by the warmth of your presence.

As you left the restaurant, Eddie reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers. You looked up at him, surprise lighting your features before you smiled, squeezing his hand gently.

"Is this okay?" he asked, searching your eyes.

"More than okay," you replied softly, your cheeks flushing.

Walking side by side, you talked and laughed, enjoying the cool night air. Eddie felt a sense of happiness he hadn’t experienced in a long time, and as you neared your car, he knew he wanted to see you again soon.

"Let's do this again," he said, feeling a rush of determination. "I'd love to take you out again. Maybe next week?"

"Definitely," you responded, your eyes sparkling. "I'd love that."

As you reached your car, you turned to face him and he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a gentle kiss that left both of you breathless. Pulling away, Eddie smiled, the warmth of the moment lingering between them. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Eddie," you replied, a smile on your face.

911 masterlist

#eddie diaz #eddie diaz x reader #911 fic #911 abc #911 fox #911 x reader #911 #imagine #edmundo diaz #edmundo eddie diaz

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miley1442111 · 8 months ago

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(part 9)- hotel room choice- a.donaldson

-------------------------

summary: how art and you start to reconnect, as friends, of course.

(dw there are more parts after this :))

pairing: art donaldson x reader

warnings: mad angst, feelings of disappointment and depression, hurt, loneliness, eating disorder, SMUT 18+, piv, fingering, no protection, small fluff, etc.

PART 9 of 12

-------------------------

You sat in your hotel room, a full plate of untouched food in front of you, a party going on outside, and an empty feeling in your stomach. You hated your life. You were worse than empty, you felt desolate, and unknown. Everyone knew your name, but no one knew you. No one knew what you liked and hated, what your real dreams were, what you liked as a kid, what your favourite colour was.

No. You were completely, and utterly alone.

Which was fine. It meant no hurt feelings. No complicated relationships. But it also meant radio silence. It meant going days without speaking a word out loud. It meant weeks without real human contact. You had no family, none that wanted to see you anyways. You had no friends, no one at the top could. You enjoyed the tennis season, because it meant you’d at least be surrounded by people, even if they didn’t speak to you. That was fine. You liked people watching. Like when you spotted Lily and Art in the crowd at your match earlier that day. Lily was a beautiful little girl, and your heart ached for the hypothetical children you and Art would talk about back in college when you both got tired enough to forgo any anxieties surrounding talking about a future together.

-------------------------

“We’d have a girl first,” he smiled, pecking your lips as he held you close. The cold air from the open window (that neither of you were bothered to close) caused you both to huddle together under his bedsheets, the darkness of the room giving way to a serious conversation. What you wanted your life to look like. How you believed it would look. “We’ll call her Lily.”

“Lily? Like my favourite flower?” You’d smiled as he nodded. You could barely make out his face in the dark room, but you could feel his smile against your skin. It felt good.

“Like your favourite flower,” he nodded. “Then we’d have twins, a boy and a girl.”

“We’d name the boy Matthew,” you decided. “After your grandad, obviously.”

Art beamed with happiness. He’d been close to his grandfather when he was a kid and a few months ago he’d opened up about it, telling you off-handedly about his desire to name his kid after him. You’d remembered.

How could you ever forget it?

“And the girl could be named Heidi,” he offered. “It’s cute, right?”

“Very cute,” you agreed.

“And then we’d have another boy-”

“Christ, how many times will I have to be pregnant?” You chuckled.

“You don’t seem to mind me fucking you everyday now,” he smirked, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your neck. You chuckled at his antics and pushed him off.

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes. “What would his name be?”

“Lucas.”

“Why Lucas?” You asked, holding his hand.

“It’s pretty, like you,” he smiled and kissed your cheek again.

“I love it,” you nodded. His hands went down to your waist and pulled you on top of him.

“I love you.”

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You pushed the plate of pasta away from you, a scoff on your lips. You weren’t hungry. You weren’t anything.

You were empty.

Knock, knock, knock.

You got up and answered it, swallowing your tears back. “Hello?”

And there he was, blonde hair in a pair of pyjama pants and a hoodie that made him like 19 again. He looked at you with those same sparkling eyes, Lily’s hand in his. You both just stared at each other for a few seconds, before Lily shook his hand, breaking him out of the trance you’d found yourselves in.“Hi.”

“Hi!” She smiled. “You’re really good!”

You leaned down to her. “Well thank you,” you smiled. “I’d love to play tennis with you one day, I bet you’re amazing.”

She nodded her head profusely. “Let’s play now!”

“Oh peanut, it’s kind of late-”

“It’s fine,” you nodded at him. “Unless she needs to be in bed?”

“She’s fine to be awake,” he nodded, his eyes trained on you.

“Perfect,” you smiled at her. “I’ll grab my racket, yeah?”

“Yay!” she celebrated. “I’ll go back to the hotel room and grab one of yours daddy! I’ll be right back,” Lily rushed off, keycard in hand.

Art walked into your room and your frame stiffened. He felt like he had no control over his body. He was just… drawn to you. Like a mosquito to a light. His eyes stayed glued to you.

“Have you eaten?” He asked, looking at the untouched dishes at the end of your bed.

“I’m not hungry,” you shrugged.

“You should eat something,” he nodded. “It’s good for you.”

You turned to him with a teasing smirk. “Really? I never noticed.”

Art felt 19 again. Awkward and much too sweaty around you. Nervous.

Like when you two first met at that party. Your beautiful face in the crowd. When Tashi introduced you to him.

-------------------------

“That over there, is Art Donaldson with Patrick Zweig, Art’s great at tennis, but he lacks a certain drive, and Patrick is just an asshole who thinks he’s way better than he is,” she giggled. You laughed along, but your eyes lingered on Art. He met your eyes and his widened, he choked on his drink and you chuckled. He waved at you, and you waved back, a teasing smirk on your face.

“He seems to like you,” she winked. “Go for it.”

You did.

-------------------------

“You haven’t changed,” he chuckled nervously.

“I wish I had,” you plastered on another fake smile and took his hand. His entire body went electric, every nerve ending on fire. You were touching him. You were here with him. Your eyes met his and he leaned in, trying to commit your face to memory. Like he would ever forget it.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, bright eyes staring into yours. “So, so beautiful.”

He noticed how your breath hitched. How your lip quivered. How your eyes watery slightly.

“Dad, I’m ready!” Lily called from the door.

“So are we!” you smiled, walking over to Lily. She put her hand in your and you felt that sorrowful ache in your heart increase in size. You’d wanted to be a mom. You couldn’t now, not after what you’d done to yourself.

-------------------------

The tennis court was foggy, a slight midnight haze on your game. Art and Lily played against you, mostly having it be Lily serve, you hitting it back, then Art catching the ball and giving it to Lily to serve again. She was pretty great, especially for a little girl. It was beautiful. Your dreams coming true for one night. A family. A domestic setting in which Art looked at you like he used to. But Lily wasn’t your daughter. And Art wasn’t your husband. They were both Tashi’s. Everything in your life had become Tashi’s.

Everything.

-------------------------

Art walked you back to your hotel room after he walked Lily back to their hotel room.

“Thanks for tonight,” he smiled. “Lily had a blast.”

“Thank you for tonight,” you smiled. “I had fun.”

He just looked at you for a moment, feeling exactly how he did eleven years ago.

-------------------------

“I had a great time tonight,” he smiled, dropping you off at your dorm.

“It doesn’t have to end,” you smirked. “You could come in for a while.”

He’d never agreed so quickly.

His lips were on your in an instant, his hands expertly undoing the lacing on the back of your beautiful black dress. “You’re so beautiful.”

“So are you,” you smirked, slightly biting his lip. He swore he could’ve cum right then and there.

His lips worked down your neck as you both stripped, then you landed on the bed, his fingers slowly working you to your first orgasm of the night.

“So pretty like this,” he whispered into your ear, somehow speaking over your moans. “So gorgeous.”

His lips seemed to be magnetic to your neck. His eyes, drinking in your body as you convulsed and moaned beneath him.

“Art!” you whined gripping his bicep as you came.

“Good girl, just like that-” he groaned when you took his hard cock in your hand.

“Feels good?” you asked, coming down from your orgasm. He nodded his head as he whimpered out small praises, depraved sounds coming over of his mouth as you worked your hand up and down faster. He lay back as you straddled him, pushing him inside of you as he moaned out particularly loudly.

“Fuck!” he whined out as you started to move. “So good- so, so good.”

“Fuck you’re huge,” you groaned. “You’re so big.”

With your praises Art came quickly, cumming inside of you with a groan as you clamped down around him, his orgasm triggering your own.

“Fuck,” you groaned, laying beside him.

“Please tell me you’re on birth control?” He asked and you groaned.

“Fuck off and stop ruining the moment,” you chuckled, kissing him softly again. “But no, I am not. I’ll go and grab the morning-after pill now,” you sighed, getting up.

“No way you’re getting it. I’ll go get it,” he assured, getting up and dressing himself. You simply walked over to your desk and pulled out a blister pack, then chuckled at him. He rolled his eyes and walked over, burying his face in your neck. “I thought you meant going out-”

“I know what you meant,” you smiled. “You’re so sweet Art, thank you.”

He faced you, a rosy blush on his cheeks. “So we’ll see each other again?”

“I hope so,” you smiled. “Cause I really like you.”

“I really like you too,” he admitted, and kissed you softly.

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He cleared his throat “You’ll get some dinner?”

“Sure,” you nodded. “You’ll get some sleep?”

“Sure,” he nodded.

You started closing the door, giving him a small wave, but he stopped you, putting his foot in the door.

“I wanted it to be you,” he admitted. “Always. I’ve always been in love with you.”

Suddenly this innocent night had turned into something much heavier.

Suddenly you didn’t know what to do.

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art donaldson masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

people who asked to be tagged :)

@fkaams

@emily-b

@yourmommycallsmemommy

@hrtsj1m

@januarycolor

@ruyaas-world

@tqd4455

#art donaldson smut #art challengers #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #art donaldson fic #challengers 2024 #challengers #tashi donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers movie #mike faist x reader #mike faist #tashi duncan #josh oconnor

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yandere-sins · 5 months ago

Text

Yan-Poll Results #1 - #4 (5)

As promised, here is the first batch of conclusions I would draw from the choices you guys have made on our weekly polls! Thank you all for participating and please mind the disclaimer before reading! ^-^

I've linked all polls in the titles.

Disclaimer: All polls are hypothetical questions and different factors could influence the results, ranging from your own personality to that of how you imagine the yandere to be. Writing these conclusions is not supposed to limit you in your fun or imagination of future polls, these are only how I imagine the stories I came up with to end. If you feel like reading these results will take away the fun from you, please abstain so you may enjoy future polls, thank you!

General Warnings for Yandere, Sexual Content, Violence, Kidnapping/Stalking, Abuse, Psychological/Physical Torture, Possible Character Death Mention

Yan-Poll #1

Run and try escaping or finding help.

♡ You push the door aside, running down the hallway as quickly as you can. With your yan not close enough to react, you don't waste a second to escape. However, you didn't realize that your door being open meant any other door in the apartment would be locked tight. Frustrated, you rattle the handle to the front exit, desperate to get out, when you hear hurried footsteps behind you. Banging your hand on the door, you start to panic, hoping someone will hear your cries for help as you scream, but just moments later, a hand clasps over your mouth, and you are dragged back to the bedroom you had been locked in, crying and screaming. The bell rings, a concerned neighbor checking on the household as your yandere has to take drastic measures to shut you up, pushing a pillow over your head until you have no air left to fight.

Stay and prove I am trustworthy to fool them later.

♡ You eye the front door, tempted to try and slip out unnoticed. But you decide it's better to wait it out and not risk losing all the trust you have built with the yan until now. Going to the living room, it's empty, so you move on to the kitchen, finding your captor. You are hesitant to speak to them, but you watch them fill bowls with snacks and prepare drinks. When they notice you, they smile, pushing two bowls of gummy bears and pretzels in your hands, asking you to bring them to the living room table. Three board games are stacked on the table as you arrive, and you realize what is happening. With a grin and a sparkle in their eyes, your yan tells you to sit down and choose the night's first game. The atmosphere grows less tense the longer you two play. You win some rounds, and they praise you for it, although you notice them letting you win at least once. You tell them not to cheat, and they beat you in a brutal game of Monopoly. Reflecting on it later, it was surprisingly fun, although you feel bad for entertaining your captor. The door to your bedroom stays unlocked.

Yan-Poll #2

Let them feed you whatever it is they're serving.

♡ ♡ It's not a gourmet meal, but you eat a few spoons, relieved to find it edible. It has the consistency of soup, with chunks of meat and vegetables. The meat is tough to eat, perhaps overcooked or low-quality, but the vegetables are satisfying in taste. It seems your captor checked to get good quality food for you, even if the meat is tough. You ask what all of it is, and they smile, telling you it's a family recipe before questioning if you like it. You shrug, and they utter a short "Aw" in disappointment. However, they look content just eating with you, smiling softly throughout the meal. "Did something good happen?" you ask them, trying to make the silence less awkward. "Mhm, you could say that," they reply, but won't tell you more. You give up. Later, as the yan clears the table, you notice some blood stains on their sleeve and point them out. "Silly me," they reply, laughing out loud in embarrassment. "Must have happened when I prepared the meat." The rest of the day is uneventful, but you feel full after the meal. You hurry back to your room after whispering a very quiet "Thank you," and your captor looks after you with surprise on their face before they beam at you happily.

Refuse it, no matter the consequences.

♡ "Too bad," they sigh. "And after your best friend went through all the trouble producing the meat for this meal." You perk up at the mention of your best friend, furrowing your brows in confusion. Your captor never talks about anyone else but you two. It's very unlike them as they always seemed jealous of anyone else around you. "You asked them for help?" you wonder, perplexed as you look down at your plate. Did that mean your best friend now knew where you were? Was your best friend aware that he was talking to your kidnapper? You were probably getting your hopes up for nothing, but hearing some news—any news!—of the outside world was such a relief. Breathing out, you nod, encouraging yourself to stay positive. Pushing the plate further away, you get up, announcing, "I'll go back to my room," before walking out hungry. You can feel the daggers your captor glares into your back, but you don't care. There was still hope you could be found. There were still people who loved and missed you and would keep looking. When you wake up the next day, you find a copy of the local newspaper on your nightstand. Curious, you browse through it, eventually stumbling over a page where the police asks for help finding a missing person. The picture of your best friend make tears well up in your eyes as you try to read the text around it. There is no mention of you.

Yan-Poll #3

Settle on the floor for the night.

♡ You dread the thought of the cold, hard flooring being your only companion for the night. Looking around, there are no other blankets or pillows to take with you, so you have no choice but to find some space far away from the bed to curl up in. You hear the yan grumble as you come to terms with the awful sleeping arrangements, your body already hurting from fighting all day, but at least you'll have your peace. No way that maniac would come down here instead of using the bed, right? Wrong. Next thing you know, the warmth of your blanket falls over you, and your yan lifts your head to push the pillow under it. But what is even worse is the feeling of their body slipping next to you, settling perfectly against the curve of yours and spooning you. You want to cry as they wrap their arm around your midriff, pressing their face into your back and taking a deep breath. They say nothing else, but you know they're smiling, happy to be with you, no matter your choice.

Share the bed with the yandere.

♡ Reluctantly, you slip your legs under the covers while your yandere giggles giddily at your choice. You think about turning your back to them so you won't have to see their sparkling eyes and infatuated expression, but you decide against it at the last minute. Not wanting to be vulnerable when you could keep your eyes on them. The bed is so comfy, especially after a long, exhausting day, and although they try to inch closer, you quickly call them out and tell them to stay on their side, or you'll leave. Disappointment is written all over their face, but eventually, they concede, and you feel better with this small win. Your eyelids are growing heavy, even though you want to wait until they fall asleep, but soon enough, you are lulled into your dreams by the warmth. You don't even notice when they inch their hand towards yours, entwining your fingers and holding on to it the whole night, not minding the lack of sleep when they can watch you for hours instead.

Yan-Poll #4

Jump off the cliff into the water.

♡ There's no turning back now. You plunge into the water, so determined to end this, to finally get away. The ice-cold wet surrounds you, and your body stiffens, but you immediately paddle up towards the surface, just in time to hear and feel the splash of another person behind you. Part of you expected it. You didn't think they'd let you jump and begone, but when you force your eyes open, you see the horror etched in their face. The horror of knowing they don't have the strength to swim back up to you. Their hand is outstretched in a last, desperate attempt to reach you, but they keep sinking while your air supplies are waning. You can't help them, lest you endanger yourself. Gasping for air, you reach the surface, the experience nothing short of traumatic. You tell yourself to push on. You swim along the cliffside, hoping, praying for somewhere to get out of the water. You didn't die jumping in, but the cold and waves are a different kind of torture than you've gotten used to. Your yan comes to mind as you try to survive, and you try to push the thought away, although the guilt seems to want to kill you. When you finally reach a sandy beach, people see you from their houses and come to help you, and you think you finally made it. But they are still on your mind. They'll always be.

Go back to the yan.

♡ You can't bring yourself to leave them. Cursing under your breath, you are by their side instantly, supporting them as you ask them which way to go. Your yan smiles at you as if you have already saved them, but you notice the dullness of their eyes, and your panic makes you careless. You rush through the thicket you have come from, asking—begging for them to tell you where to go! But the yan remains silent on the whereabouts of the nearest house or phone you could use. You feel their body sacking more and more against you, their blood loss gnawing away at their life. You keep pushing on and trying to help and fix this. You don't even like them! Don't even know one good thing about them! You don't... When they call out to you suddenly and sternly, you are reminded of all the times they scolded and got angry with you. Your body halts and tenses instinctively, like so many times before. But instead of hitting or scaring you, they simply ask you to put them down. You want to argue, but looking into their eyes, you know arguing would be pointless. You settle them down on the ground, and they thank you. Tears shoot into your eyes, and you don't even know why as you hold their hand. Time passes. Time spent with them telling you how beautiful you are and how much they love you. You don't. You hate them. Even though you want to leave, you can't bring yourself to get up. You should feel the relief and happiness of finally being free when they are gone. It will take a lot of therapy to overcome the dread you feel, but first, you have to go and find your way out of the forest. Wouldn't want to join them for all eternity, right?

Yan-Poll #5

I, uh... I think I skipped 5 as a number. Honestly heartbreaking because it's my favorite number but the post doesn't exist so apparently I just went straight for 6. My bad, sorry :')

[Your own thoughts, ideas, and reactions are welcome in the comments and asks!]

#yan-poll #yandere talk #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

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redtsundere-writes · 2 months ago

Text

Part 25: Strong, Fast & Almighty

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. Beta read.

Word Count: words.

A/N: Sorry, I got sick and couldn't post uwu

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

“Red?!”

The night had started badly. The ball was just a few hours away, and you were already on the verge of collapse. You stared at the dress with a mix of amazement and bewilderment, unable to believe that the king had chosen that color. The corset, coated in rubies, the soft suede skirt and the sequined bodice sparkled so brightly that you had to squint to keep from going blind. It was a masterpiece, yes, but it also went against all dress codes. Part of you knew it was your fault; after all, curses hardly understood that society ball dresses were supposed to be white, simple and coquette; not flashy, alarming and, much less, sensual.

“Yes, a very deep red,” Kenjaku, who was holding the large box containing the dress, answered your hypothetical question.

“No, I can’t wear this,” you said before reluctantly closing the box.

“Why not? It’s beautiful.”

“It is, but if you want me to infiltrate the sorcerers, this will do the opposite,” you explained.

This was a mess, a crimson-tinged mess. If you dared to wear that dress, you would stand out more than a flare in the middle of winter. It was too daring, too provocative, and wearing it would be the equivalent of throwing a glass of red wine in the king’s face. Now, infiltrating the Zen’in would be much more complicated than it should be, as if that scandalous dress wasn’t already enough of a problem.

“Is there a problem?” Sukuna asked. He came closer, seeing you arguing with your master. They had drawn the attention of some curses, distracting them from unpacking the camp for the night.

“This dress is against the dress code of the ball. If you give me some gold, I can buy another one at…”

“I know,” Sukuna interrupted you.

“You know?” You and Kenjaku asked in unison, stunned.

“It’s not the first time we spied on the sorcerers,” the king explained.

“So, did you choose a red dress on purpose?” You asked, confused.

“Our presence alone is going to make a big impression. So, if we’re going to draw attention, we might as well do it right.” Sukuna took you by the chin so you could look him in the eyes. “I want my queen to shine above all those obnoxious princesses.”

Sukuna gave you a proud smile before leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. Then, with his authoritative voice, he ordered Kenjaku to help you get ready, before retreating to personally oversee the curses keeping the camp in order. “He just wants to make my job harder,” you thought with a mix of annoyance and resignation.

The dress flowed down your long legs, further enhanced by the vibrant heels that seemed to lengthen each step. The sequins hugged your figure like a second skin, while the second suede skirt held on your waist perfectly and fell into an elegant train that followed you with every movement. This dress was unlike any Sukuna had ever gifted you; so much so, that you barely recognized yourself in it.

Kenjaku worked with meticulous precision, brushing and braiding your hair into an elaborate updo that exuded elegance. Then, he applied makeup that was more dramatic than you had imagined. Your face was sculpted with strategic shadows, dark eyeliner highlighted your eyes, and a passionate red lipstick became the finishing touch, lighting your lips like a fire that no one could ignore.

You looked at yourself in the makeshift mirror inside the small tent as Kenjaku added the last of the golden accessories to your hair. What that glass reflected was not your familiar image; It wasn't the dress, the jewelry or the complicated hairstyle that made you feel different. You were no longer the countryside girl who ran through the hills looking for the sunset with her sisters. Now, you were the fiancée of a tyrant. A question, heavy as a rock, settled in your chest: Did that make you a tyrant too?

"You look wonderful, powerful," Kenjaku whispered proudly as he placed the small gold rose-shaped necklace over your cleavage.

Powerful. Even if you didn’t feel it, you had to pretend, cling to that illusion to keep a plan built on fragile probabilities going. Now you were facing the tyrant on the immense chessboard, but blindfolded. You couldn’t see his pieces, and all you had were a handful of pawns to defend yourself. Surrendering would be the easiest thing to do. All you had to do was bow down, obey your king’s every command, and let the chains of fate hold you down completely. You still had time. But you wouldn’t. You couldn’t.

Because even if you were no longer that countryside girl running barefoot under the open sky, you knew you had to move forward. Not for yourself, but for the hundreds of girls in the commune who still were, who deserved a world where tyrants didn’t decide their destinies. You were all they had, and that responsibility was enough to harden your gaze and keep you steadfast.

“Thank you, Kenjaku.” You smiled at him through the mirror. Your teacher patted you on the shoulders, indicating he had finished his part of the job.

“Since we don’t know exactly what awaits you in the Zen’in castle. In case it is a trap, you must escape as soon as possible and get out of here. Don’t go back to camp, go back to Sukuna’s kingdom,” Kenjaku explained.

“How am I going to get there?” You arched your eyebrow.

Kenjaku pulled out of his loose sleeve a yellowish sphere that reflected a rainbow against the light. You had seen it before. It must be one of his curses.

“This is the rainbow dragon. Once it senses that you are in danger, it will come out on its own.” Kenjaku handed you the sphere.

“Where should I keep it?” You rotated the sphere, producing a beautiful change of colors on the palm of your hand.

“Swallow it.”

Your body froze at that instruction. The sphere was the size of a grapefruit. There was no power on earth that would make that go into your mouth willingly. Kenjaku had to be joking.

“I’m not joking,” Kenjaku answered you as if he could read your mind. He took the sphere from your hand. “Open your mouth.”

“He-!”

You didn’t manage to finish your complaint before Kenjaku, with relentless force, began to force the sphere into your body. You squirmed, instinctively fighting against him, but his grip was unbreakable. He mercilessly shoved the sphere down your throat, and the bitter, abrasive taste burned you as if you were swallowing poison. You coughed, trying to resist, but Kenjaku didn’t relent. With one last push, the sphere descended completely, leaving a strange, oppressive weight on your stomach that made you double over from the impact.

“Kenjaku!” You gasped, spitting out the taste of burnt oil that lingered on your lips. It was so intense that it would probably stay there all night.

“It’s for your safety, young lady.”

“Are you done?” Sukuna entered the tent.

Sukuna was wearing one of his classic black kimonos, an outfit as practical as it was imposing, designed to offer comfort and freedom of movement in case war broke out. However, his choice of clothing also blatantly defied established codes. These were much more flexible with men, allowing them to wear formal suits or military uniforms, if they hold a rank of authority. But the great king, with his characteristic disregard for convention, looked somewhat loose, flowing, even markedly feminine. It was an act that would undoubtedly ignite murmurs among the courtiers. Sukuna, as always, seemed to enjoy the provocation.

“Yes, of course.” Kenjaku said with an obedient bow.

“Get out then,” he ordered.

Kenjaku left the tent without a word, leaving the space in a silence that seemed to amplify his absence. You were now completely alone. You looked at your reflection once again, and a smile of approval appeared on your lips as you contemplated how the dress fit your figure perfectly. It was a work of art, a weapon in the form of elegance.

Sukuna approached with his imposing presence, taking one of your hands with a confidence that brooked no resistance. With a slight gesture, he indicated that you should turn on your axis. You obeyed, letting the shining fabric of the dress dance around you, while he watched you with a satisfied look that seemed to say that you were now everything he had imagined... and more.

"Who knew that a daisy could look like a rose?"

There he was again. Comparing you to a daisy. You no longer knew if he said it to mock your innocence or to flatter your beauty. Knowing him, it could be both at the same time.

"You look good, too." You smiled back at him. "Are we leaving now?"

"You just need something else."

From behind him, Sukuna handed you a small sheath. You clicked open the latch and uncovered a red dagger. It was small, the size of your hand, and had a rose engraved on the wooden handle. A subtle but lethal weapon.

“It’s cursed, it will help you in case the dance is a trap,” Sukuna explained before putting the dagger back into its sheath.

“Where am I going to put it? This dress doesn’t have pockets…” You quickly realized a possibility. “Don’t make me swallow it,” you said in fear.

“No, no, no. I wouldn’t do something like that to you.” Sukuna laughed as he saw that Kenjaku’s sphere left you with a minor trauma. “That’s what I have this for.” From his back, he pulled out a garter that was in his other hand.

“Oh, it’ll be hard to put on,” you muttered, complaining about how tedious it would be to put the garter on your thigh with such a tight dress on.

“Not if I do it,” Sukuna offered.

Sukuna made you sit back down, his low, firm voice leaving no room for protest. Then, with a calmness that belied the tension in the air, he knelt in front of you. His gaze locked with yours for a moment, before he reached for one of your legs in a gesture that took your breath away. Your breathing hitched as you realized what he was about to do.

With unexpected gentleness, he placed the tip of your foot on his knee. His rough, battle-hardened hands brushed your skin as he began to slide the garter up your leg. His thumbs moved with a slowness that seemed deliberate, almost cruel, as you bit your lower lip, struggling to hold back any sound that might betray you. The warmth of his fingers was an electrifying contrast against the cold of your skin, a fire that seemed to ignite something deeper within you.

When he reached the right height, he pulled your skirt aside with a precise movement. He pulled out the dagger that had been waiting its turn, and with almost ceremonial skill, secured it between the garter and your leg. He pulled the white ribbons firmly, tightening them in place. His hands lingered just a second longer than necessary, as if he were marking you with something more than just a weapon.

“Are you ready?” Sukuna looked up to meet your flushed face. You could only nod.

The carriage, having been destroyed in the forest of curses, had left you with fewer options. Walking was the only solution to get to the castle. Sukuna, with a mix of authority and pragmatism, carried you for much of the journey. He didn’t say anything, but his actions spoke for themselves: he wasn’t going to let the heels ruin your feet before facing what awaited them.

The path took them to the heart of the Zen’in kingdom, a place that exuded natural splendor and tradition. Leafy trees stood like ancient watchmen, while vines coiled around natural rock formations, creating a landscape that seemed straight out of a painting. The fresh air was an unexpected caress after the stuffy atmosphere of the forest. But the most disconcerting thing was the presence of humans. Elegantly dressed civilians strolled through the cobblestone streets, their suits and jewelry reflecting the opulence of the anniversary they were celebrating.

Their gazes bored into you like sharp knives. Disbelief painted their faces, some filled with fear, others with astonishment. How was it possible that a curse, the king of them all, was walking through their lands, accompanied by a human figure? You could only respond with a nervous smile while keeping a firm grip on his arm. Despite the bewilderment that hung in the air, Sukuna advanced with the same confidence with which one claims what is his.

The castle appeared before you like a colossus of stone and power. Larger and much more imposing than you had imagined, its towers seemed to touch the sky, and the shadows they cast on the drawbridge were almost intimidating. You looked up, trying to take in the full magnitude of it, but soon realized that the walls seemed more of a threat than a welcome.

When they reached the bridge, the guards tensed instantly. There were no words of warning, no attempts at negotiation. The cursed swords glowed as they were drawn, and their wielders assumed attacking stances. “Is this how you’re going to do things…?” Sukuna thought, not even bothering to hide the cruel smile forming on his face. He was ready, more than ready, to cut them into pieces if they dared to challenge him. To him, this was nothing more than a game he had already won.

“Wait!” You stepped between your king and the guards with your arms outstretched. “We were personally invited by the Zen’in kings!” You exclaimed.

“Why would the king invite a disgusting curse?!” One of the guards yelled at you.

“Hey, have more respect for King Sukuna Ryomen!” You defended your king with equal volume.

The two guards froze, as if the surrounding air had stopped. Their eyes widened, and a thin layer of sweat began to glisten on their foreheads. It was obvious that they knew exactly who they had in front of them: Not a man, but a monster, one who could end their lives with a simple snap of his fingers. Sukuna’s aura seemed to fill the space like a crushing shadow, robbing them of every last vestige of bravery. Calmly, you pulled a neatly folded invitation from Sukuna’s pocket. You held it up to them with the friendliest smile you could muster. Not out of fear, but out of empathy, as you fully understood how the poor men felt.

As they took it and examined it, the guards’ expressions changed from terror to nervous embarrassment. It was unmistakable: the invitation was authentic. They clumsily lowered their weapons, the blades clanging against the stone floor. One of them tried to stammer out an apology, but the mere lift of Sukuna’s hand reduced him to silence. They had made the mistake of defying the king of curses, and the echo of that mistake would still haunt them.

“We just want to have a nice night,” you said.

The two guards exchanged quick glances, assessing who would dare lead the unusual guests into the castle. Finally, the guard on the left let out a deep sigh, resigned to the inevitability of the situation, and with an awkward gesture, motioned for them to follow. Sukuna offered you his arm again, and together you began to advance into the castle.

The moment had come. You had to infiltrate among the most powerful humans in the world, and you would do so to the beat of the piano, with the elegance of a piece of music that begins softly, but with each note gaining in intensity. As they crossed the threshold into the courtyard, a crowd of citizens watched them with eyes full of wonder. Surprise quickly turned to fear. Whispers spread among them, wondering if they should do something about it, although, upon seeing someone as imposing as Sukuna, it seemed that not even the air dared to move. Eyes diverted, unable to sustain the weight of his presence.

Sukuna, however, was already used to this kind of reaction. The discomfort, the rejection, the repulsion… he had experienced all of it all his life. It was nothing new to him. He remembered the rocks thrown at his head, the burn marks on his arms, the bitter taste of the poisonous berries he was given when he was still just a child. He had endured it all, like someone who gets used to wounds that never heal, like someone who learns that the world will never have mercy. He was just a child, but even in his vulnerability, he was already a force that others feared.

“My king, what kind of flowers are those?” You snapped him out of his thoughts, pointing to the large purple flowers growing on the vines.

You looked at the castle with a seemingly indifferent gaze, as if everything that happened around you was of no importance. However, deep down, this was not the case. The reality was that other people's opinions affected you more than you wanted to admit. You had grown up in the shadow of a troublesome sister, and so the disapproving glances of old ladies and the murmurs of neighbors annoyed by her ineptitude were no strangers to you. You couldn't even escape when you became a maid. You were used to being the target of criticism, to living with that constant pressure of being judged for the mistakes of others. But what really worried you at that moment, more than the judgment of others, was a simple truth: you were wearing the wrong color.

“They are Clematis. They are related to wisdom, aspiration and mischief,” Sukuna answered, distracting himself from what was happening around him.

“Mischief?” You asked curiously.

“It’s known as the ‘devil’s darning needle’ because it can be toxic to humans and animals,” Sukuna continued.

“Oh, it’s a shame they’re cute,” you commented with a pout.

“The danger doesn’t take away the cuteness,” Sukuna smiled. You could only return the gesture.

You climbed the majestic white marble stairs, the steps seeming to glow under the light of the torches and the hanging chandeliers. Each step echoed softly, like a prelude to the spectacle that awaited you. Before you, the castle entrance loomed imposingly: a gigantic door, carved with intricate details that told stories of wars, victories, and dynasties. Behind that door, you knew, were kings and queens, princes and princesses, dukes and duchesses, the most influential figures in the world.

You had attended balls before, but never like this one. Your previous experiences had been with the middle class, or at public celebrations hosted by the kingdom, where crowds shared laughter, music and simple dancing. But tonight was different. This time, you would be surrounded by people who could truly change the course of history with a single word. And, though you tried to keep your composure, the weight of that thought made your heart beat faster.

The guard leaned toward the announcer, whispering their names in an almost reverent tone. Sukuna, at your side, barely seemed to notice the exchange. His gaze remained fixed on the door, though out of the corner of his eye he watched you with a slight expression of interest, as if he were gauging your reaction. As the announcer gave instructions to the trumpeters, preparing them for what would clearly be an important welcome, you felt the pressure of his hand on your back. With a firm, but almost imperceptible gesture, the king indicated for you to correct your posture.

“You are standing next to the most powerful king in the world, act like it.” He asked you not to be intimidated by what was on the other side of the door.

You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with air as if that could dissipate the tension that compressed your chest, and nodded with determination. Sukuna was right. You had no royal blood, no superhuman powers, nor the refined education necessary to compete with that elite. But you did have something that they could not take away from you: guts. And that would be more than enough to stand firm and not let anyone trample you.

The blare of the trumpets broke the air just as the huge doors of the hall swung wide open. Their sound abruptly interrupted the melody of the orchestra and the perfectly choreographed dance that filled the room. The gazes of those present immediately turned to the entrance, where two figures defied everything they expected.

“Sukuna Ryomen, the king of curses and owner of the East Coast, has arrived, along with his partner, Miss Y/n!” The announcer exclaimed to the four winds.

No one applauded. The room, a sea of impeccable military uniforms and white dresses that radiated purity and tradition, was filled with expressions of shock and horror. The contrast could not be more striking: Sukuna, a colossal curse that seemed to absorb all the light in the room with his mere presence, and you, a small lady walking beside him in a red dress as intense as blood itself, as if every step you took was a statement against their norms and customs.

The murmur began to spread like a wildfire, drowning out the last echoes of the trumpets. Everyone seemed to hold their breath, unable to take their eyes off the scene unfolding before them as they moved out of his way. Aware of every gaze that was fixed on you, you clung a little tighter to Sukuna's arm. You could feel the gazes piercing you, but you stood tall, remembering the guts that had brought you here would also be the ones that would take you further.

The hardest part was about to begin: presenting yourself before the kings. You had imagined finding an elderly couple, figures covered in gold from head to toes, with faces weathered by years and responsibilities. However, the reality was completely different, and you couldn't help but feel surprised.

The Zen'in kings sat on majestic thrones, made of white gold, with intricate details of emeralds and green quartz, which shone under the light of the huge chandeliers in the hall. Their youth was disconcerting. At first glance, they seemed only a few years older than you.

The queen was the first to catch your attention. Her dark hair, elegantly cut, framed a kind, almost innocent face, which was illuminated by a calm smile. Her white dress, designed with a simplicity that contrasted with the excesses of the room, made her appear ethereal, as if she were more spirit than flesh. There was something about her that was disarming, a warmth that almost made you forget where you were.

It was the king, however, who truly dominated the space. Even seated, his figure projected an imposing presence. He was tall, his black hair falling naturally over his forehead, and his burly body was hinted at beneath a familiar military uniform. You had seen that design on Commander Naoya, but here, on the king, it seemed like a perfected version. The medals that adorned his chest were not just symbols of achievement, but trophies that spoke of undisputed authority and power. And then there was his face: handsome in an almost insulting way, as if nature itself had decided to give him everything it took to rule. “If Mrs. Inoue saw this, she would faint right here,” you thought wryly, while trying not to let your amazement be evident.

Unlike the rest of the room, they showed no fear. Not a hint of doubt was reflected on their faces as they saw you and Sukuna cross the threshold. Instead, they watched you with measured curiosity, almost as if they were sizing you up. It was a complete contrast to the palpable tension that filled the room. Here they were, the two monarchs of the Zen'in Kingdom, sitting on their thrones as if nothing in the world could touch them, not even the arrival of the King of Curses. And that, more than any murmurs or glances from the others, put you on alert to begin the real party.

"King and Queen Zen'in. It's a pleasure to meet you. We deeply appreciate your invitation," you said as you bowed respectfully to them, unlike Sukuna who only scrutinized them in the same way.

"It's about time. After years of sending the poor idiot Commander Naoya to deliver the invitations and not a clue given in return," King Toji laughed at the situation, cutting the tension in half as the rest of the party continued to watch the scene intently.

“It's a pleasure to meet you as well,” Queen Nozomi added.

“Let me tell you, you have a beautiful kingdom. It's so warm and vibrant, unlike Sukuna's kingdom,” you commented with a friendly smile.

That's how your plan began. The art of conversation. Starting a pleasant chat until you got to the information you wanted to get. You had no idea what information you wanted to get, so anything would be good.

“I'm glad you enjoy our architecture. The vast majority of our buildings are over 400 years old. A true heritage to our culture,” the queen replied elegantly.

Queen Zen'in was just as she appeared to be: charming, warm, and above all, exceptionally polite. Her voice, soft but clear, flowed with impeccable diction, as if each word was measured with precision. Her eloquence was enviable; a skill that you, despite the endless lessons Kenjaku gave you, could barely replicate without nervousness creeping into your tone.

The king, on the other hand, observed everything with a different attitude. His fixed and calculating gaze soon realized that the orchestra had stopped playing, the waiters remained in the kitchen, hesitating whether to come out or not, and the guests continued to look at the scene in disbelief. A slight snort escaped his lips, as if all that uncertainty was an unnecessary distraction.

“What are you waiting for to play?! This is a party! What?! Have you never seen a curse before?!” Toji scolded everyone. Even you felt scolded.

The orchestra, without further delay, began to play again, its notes breaking the silence that had filled the room. People returned to their conversations as if nothing was happening, even though they could now only talk about what was right in front of their noses. The first meeting of King Ryomen and King Zen'in. Something that seemed impossible after a long history of enmity.

"Seriously, I'm very glad you came. This is a historic day!" Toji said excitedly.

"Let's get to the point. Why did you invite me? What do you want?" Sukuna answered coldly, causing the Zen'in kings to become dissatisfied.

"Oh... excuse him, King Sukuna is a very direct person," you said to dispel the tension.

"There's nothing to apologize for, young lady. I'm the same," King Toji told you. "I invited him for business, obviously."

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, becoming curious. That simple action, so subtle and loaded with meaning, only fueled his growing curiosity. What kind of business could King Toji be seeking with him? The very idea seemed absurd. It was unthinkable that a human being, whatever his status or power, would want to negotiate with someone like him. Sukuna, a curse of such magnitude, so distant from everything human, so imposing and destructive, could not understand what could lead a human king to even consider such a proposal. But something in the king's gaze, something in the calm with which he had made his offer, told him that there was more than met the eye. And that "more" was precisely what kept him on edge.

"Why don't we talk about it in private? The sooner we talk about it, the quicker we can get back to the party, right?" King Toji stood up from his seat. Sukuna gave you a look to be alert outside his presence.

Toji led him down a hallway, leaving the party behind. People were dancing harmoniously to the song with great elegance and joy on their faces. Under the bright chandeliers, around the soft music and on the beautiful marble floors. The piano sounded harmoniously in your ears. You smiled at the sight of the pianist, the star of the show, playing his master instrument while his body couldn't help but move to the beat. You wanted to join the dance floor already.

"Why don't you take a seat?" Nozomi offered you the king's seat when she saw you standing.

"The throne? No, I couldn't," you refused flatly.

"Oh, come on. The queen is ordering you to." Nozomi told you sweetly. Since you didn't want to offend the queen, you sat on the great throne. "Tell me, what exactly are you to King Sukuna?" She asked you curiously.

"His servant. He only invited me so he wouldn't arrive alone. What kind of king would arrive alone to a high society ball?" You said as if he had forced you to come.

"No... You're not just his servant." Nozomi smiled at you with a certain mischief in her eyes. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. "You're his lover, aren't you?"

"H-how did you realize?", you asked while you thought: "Great, I went from servant to sex object.”

"You can see it in his eyes. It's easy to notice when he has four," Nozomi joked, but then her expression turned nostalgic. "He reminds me of my Toji, he had that same look when we were dating. King Sukuna is completely in love with you."

You quickly realized that she didn't mean "lover" in the vulgar sense of the word. But in the romantic sense. You had noticed it too, that was why it was so easy to sweet-talk him with the technique Yorozu had taught you. The problem now wasn't with him, but...

"The real question is, what do you feel for him?" Nozomi inquired, thinking she would make you blush in embarrassment.

"I love him," you admitted seriously, surprising the queen suddenly. "But, I can't allow it. He's a damn tyrant," you said, holding your skirt in anger.

You had accepted, albeit silently, that you were in love with him. You had known it long before you dared to admit it. You looked for any excuse to be near him, to steal moments from him amidst his constant authority and his world of chaos. You strove to make him happy, to offer him the best of yourself, to be at his level and feel you could walk beside him with dignity. You loved him. There was no other way to describe what you felt. You had loved him even before you realized it, perhaps even before he, with his cold, but undeniable determination, had first proposed to you.

There was something about him that captured you, something that made you feel alive, that lit a fire inside you that no one else could awaken. The way he managed to surprise you, how he saw something unique in you, how he treated you with a delicacy that clashed with his brutal nature, all of that made you think no one else in the world could compare to him. He had transformed you, not only into who you were now, but into someone who had learned to desire, to yearn, to need.

But there was a dark weight to that love. His actions, often cruel and vile, were a poison that ate away at the foundations of what you felt. Over and over you found yourself caught between two extremes: the man who made you feel like a precious flower and the tyrant who destroyed without mercy. That duality tore you apart inside.

And then you wondered: Was it really love? Did you love him for who he was, completely, with his virtues and his monsters? Or had you simply fallen under the spell of his attention, the way he made you feel wanted, special? Was it love or a disguised obsession, born from his ability to fill every empty corner of your heart? That doubt, always present, was the crack in your passion. Maybe, what you felt for him was not as pure as you liked to believe.

“Such a dilemma,” Nozomi whispered beside you.

“Sure it is,” you nodded.

“You remind me of myself when I first started dating Toji. I loved him, but I was too afraid to get close because he was a strong commander and the heir to the throne, while I was just selling bread.” Nozomi scratched the back of her neck, somewhat embarrassed to admit it.

She told you her love story with a warmth in her voice that seemed to envelop every word. It was simple, almost like a tale that could have been lost between the pages of a forgotten book, but in her eyes shone the intensity of something unique.

“I was just a countryside girl,” she began, with a nostalgic smile.

Nozomi worked as a delivery girl at the family bakery, bringing freshly baked breads to the castle every two days, always before breakfast. Her routine was simple, almost monotonous, but she had a secret that made those trips special. From the courtyard, she could see young Prince Toji getting ready for the day through his window. Her eyes always ended up looking for him between the huge windows. One day, driven by a mixture of nerves and bravery, she timidly waved at him. Against all odds, he returned the gesture, but not in an indifferent way, but with a flirtatious smile that made her heart beat faster.

From then on, every morning, the same scene was repeated. Week after week, Toji began to wait for her at the same window, as if the day could not begin without that brief exchange. And then, after months of silent greetings and furtive glances, the king finally took the next step. He waited for her in the kitchen, a place where the walls of royalty seemed to crumble, to meet her face to face.

In the middle of her story, Nozomi's stomach began to hurt. Quickly, you approached to try to assist her, but she gestured to you that she was fine.

"This pregnancy is really testing my patience," She joked softly.

“Are you pregnant?” You asked, surprised you didn’t notice before.

“I’m barely two months pregnant,” she commented. “Do you want to feel?”

On the opposite side of the castle, hidden in the shadows of the maze of vines, a commander and a young woman who the former only known for a few hours were in a scene that was far from anything romantic. He was kissing her aggressively, squeezing her breasts tightly and possessing her ass as if she were nothing, just another toy in his collection. The poor girl was screaming in pain, but she didn’t push him away as she was dealing with the attractive Naoya Zen’in. The brightness of Naoya’s position and his almost perfect face seemed to override any desire to defend herself, even as her moans of pain mixed with the whispers of the wind in the labyrinth.

For Naoya, this was simply an empty ritual, another distraction in the middle of a busy and frenetic life. As a commander, he rarely had moments to “relax”, and these events became the perfect excuse for his personal hunt. There were always women willing to fall into his trap, fascinated by his lineage and his looks. But to him, they were interchangeable, ephemeral toys that lost their luster in a matter of minutes.

This one, in particular, was so boring that she seemed more like a rag doll than a companion. Not even her screams or her dedication could hold his interest. With a mix of contempt and disgust, he pushed her aside as if she were a used garment, leaving her there, alone and humiliated. The young woman called out to him, her voice cracking with confusion and pain, but Naoya had already left, ignoring her pleas with devastating indifference.

With a cynical smile and the air of someone who knows he can get away with anything, Naoya appeared back in the ballroom. His superhuman speed made him stand to the epicenter of the party in the blink of an eye. He adjusted his uniform, impeccable despite his recent “amusements” and let his gaze wander around the room, looking for a new victim to pass the time. It was then that something caught his attention. Amidst a sea of white dresses, a flash of crimson glowed like a living flame.

“What the fuck…?” He whispered angrily to himself.

There you were, the damned servant who had the nerve to shoot an arrow through his back, chatting calmly with Queen Nozomi. The two of you were laughing, as if you were old friends sharing a secret, with your hands holding her belly in a relaxed posture, as if you didn’t have a care in the world. And worst of all, you were sitting on the king’s throne, with a naturalness and impudence that stabbed a pain in his chest.

He strode forward, every movement emanating suppressed fury, as his teeth ground together with each step. His gaze fixed on you was all it took to make the air in the room thick, tense. When he finally stood before you, his presence was imposing, charged with a silent rage that only someone like him could possess.

“What the fuck are you doing here?! Get your stupid ass up!” Naoya grabbed your arm to pull you off the throne.

“Commander Naoya!” Nozomi scolded him. “I asked her to sit down!” She defended you.

“No, Queen Zen’in. It was my fault, I shouldn’t have agreed in the first place,” you said to calm the waters. “See you again, Commander Naoya.” You greeted him with a bow.

“And what a horrible sight you look like,” Naoya replied, crossing his arms.

“And that’s why it’s not good to see you again.” You mimicked his stance.

“There, there.” Queen Nozomi stood up from her seat to scold the two of them. “Now King Toji is making a deal with King Sukuna. If all goes well, it means we’ll see each other more often. You two should try to be friends,” she said with a friendly smile.

“Friend of this disgusting maid? I’d rather die,” Naoya muttered, to which Nozomi gave him a smack.

“Enough!”

The room erupted in applause as the last note of the song faded into the air. The musicians, after a brief sigh of rest, prepared to begin the next number: The Phantom Waltz. An ethereal and moving melody, so perfect in its complexity, it felt as if time itself vanished in its lullaby. You knew it almost by heart; It was one of the first pieces you had tried to play on the piano, though its difficulty had led you to look for something simpler to begin practicing without ever losing the desire to master it one day.

The queen, noticing your gaze fixed on the musicians and the slight glint of recognition in your eyes, smiled to herself. A flash of cunning crossed her face, as if she had just conceived an idea that could change the course of the night.

“Commander Naoya, invite the young lady to dance,” Nozomi ordered.

“What?!” They both objected.

“Do you really want to disobey the queen?” She raised her eyebrow in threat. Naoya sighed dramatically in surrender. He knew his cousin would kick his ass if he disobeyed. You felt like you no longer had a say in the situation.

“You better know the steps,” Naoya took your hand before pulling you onto the dance floor. You looked at Nozomi with pitying eyes, but she only gave you a thumbs up in good luck.

Naoya held you by the waist firmly, his fingers gripping as if claiming something that never belonged to him. His posture was rigid, clearly making it known that this dance was not a gesture of courtesy, but a display of control and superiority. Wasting no time, you adjusted yourself into position, placing your hand on his shoulder, while his other hand maintained its possessive grip. Without a word, the two of you began to move, merging with the stream of dancers who twirled to the beat of the waltz.

The steps were fluid, perfectly synchronized with the music, but there was a palpable distance between you. Each of you looked in the opposite direction, like two children caught in an awkward interaction, pretending not to notice the other's closeness. Naoya kept his expression of bored arrogance, while you tried to keep your composure despite the surrounding gazes.

The ladies in the hall watched you with a mix of jealousy and resentment, whispering behind decorated fans. For them, you were an intruder in their territory, a mere stranger, occupying a place they believed was reserved for one of them: the arm of the young commander of the Zen'in. But, despite their obvious disdain, you couldn't ignore how some envied the attention he bestowed on you, even if it was laced with barely concealed condescension.

“They really hate you,” Naoya mocked you.

“Let them keep doing it,” you said indifferently.

“Hey, just because you have a dress that stands out from the others, doesn't mean you do. You're still a useless servant of a disgusting curse.” His intentions were clear. He was trying to annoy you as much as possible, but you wouldn't let him.

“I don’t care about in the slightest what a stupid, pedantic commander thinks.” Your partner smiled with satisfaction.

“Oh, honey... I know I'm the worst,” Naoya whispered in your ear. “But I still have status, strength and a face carved by angels.”

“By demons, you mean,” you replied quickly.

“You can pretend all you want, but I know you're melting being so close to me.”

“I better go back to the damn hell where you came from,” you whispered to him so no one would hear you.

Naoya smiled, enjoying the spectacle of your frustration. For him, your emotions were a toy, something delicate and easy to manipulate, and he did it with the same ease with which a cat plays with a mouse. The song reached its last beat, marking the perfect moment to execute the final twist: a tip. An opportunity that he, of course, planned to use for his own entertainment.

Even though he didn't consider you the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, there was something about you that intrigued him. Maybe your resilience, your stubbornness, or simply the challenge you represented. His eyes briefly lingered on your lips, tempting and painted in such a deep red that they seemed like a beacon calling to him. Yes, he had already decided.

"Wait... He wants to...?" you thought, confused, noticing the direction of his gaze. It was absurd. What kind of man enjoys irritating a woman and then pretends to kiss her like it was nothing? It was clear you had to act quickly. The music was ending, and Naoya, confident in his ability to get his way, already had the plan outlined in his mind: a smooth and controlled movement, lower your body elegantly and seal the moment with an unexpected kiss in front of the crowd. He was so sure of himself that the sparkle of triumph was already appearing in his eyes.

But you weren't willing to be part of his game. As he moved his hand down your back, preparing to execute the final twist, you took control. With a calculated move, you slid your arm behind his back and, in one swift movement, pushed him off balance. Before he could react, you lightly kicked his foot, destabilizing him. In the blink of an eye, it was him who fell towards you, caught in your arms.

The entire room held its breath, surprised by the unexpected twist. You had made the perfect tip, but with Naoya in the role he would never have imagined: vulnerable and at your mercy. His arrogance was now replaced by a mix of disbelief and a spark of irritation. But you only smiled, triumphant, making it clear that you were not a piece on his board, but a player on yours.

“Look who’s melting now,” you whispered to him as his lips were just inches away.

Naoya had never felt so humiliated, embarrassed, angry, blushing, aroused… His emerald eyes were in shock that his heart was racing as fast as him. No, this couldn’t be happening to him. He was Commander Naoya of the great Zen’in nation, he couldn’t fall under the charms of a maid. A maid who stood up to him. A maid who beat his speed. A maid in a beautiful red dress. A beautiful maid… The applause at the end of the song submerged you, but you didn’t raise it. You wanted to make him suffer a couple more seconds. Naoya parted his lips thirstily, but you weren’t going to give him a drop of yourself.

The trumpets began to sound again, just in time. Someone important had arrived. You reluctantly picked Naoya up and moved away from him to make way on the dance floor. He backed away, confused, lost in the chaos of his emotions. The people around you gasped at the sight of who was in the Zen'in Kingdom, lining up so they could reach Queen Nozomi easily. You felt like you did when you were a maid, lining up against the wall to greet Sukuna.

“Here they are, King Kento Nanami of the Nanami Kingdom and King Satoru Gojo of the Gojo Kingdom!” They announced.

You were stunned to see the kings enter the hall, their presences capturing every glance. “Why are all the kings so handsome?” you thought, almost offended by the injustice of their beauty. First there was Sukuna, with his lethal and magnetic aura; then Suguru Geto, enigmatic and imposing. Then, Toji Zen'in with his great musculature. Now, King Nanami and King Gojo seemed to raise the standard even higher.

King Nanami was a work of perfection: tall, blond, with an impeccable bearing that seemed sculpted for a royal portrait. His navy blue military uniform, adorned with medals, reflected his discipline and elegance. His perfectly coiffed hair and shiny shoes made him look like the ideal dream husband, the kind of man every mother would want for her daughter. His seriousness only amplified his attractiveness, as if every gesture of his was a poem of sobriety and strength.

And then there was King Gojo, your sister hadn’t lied. King Gojo was prettier than her.. His snow-white hair shone under the lights, and his flawless skin had a glow that defied all logic. He wore a white yukata with traditional patterns of the Gojo kingdom that made him look even more ethereal. The blindfold covering his eyes only added to an air of mystery, though it couldn’t hide his colossal presence. If Naoya was a devil made flesh, Gojo seemed to have descended straight from heaven.

Both kings advanced through the hall, their steps filled with a natural majesty. Those present fell into a collective bow, bowing deeply to their authority. Naoya, who had known both of them for years, was already ready to greet them with that friendly arrogance he reserved only for his equals. But he stopped short when he noticed that Gojo had changed direction, advancing directly towards you.

Nanami also stopped, his gaze shifting to where his colleague directed his attention. Suddenly, you felt as if the surrounding air was compressed. Halfway into your bow, you found yourself looking up, caught up in the curiosity of the moment. A shiver ran down your spine at the strange feeling of déjà vu…

Gojo, with carefree ease, pulled the blindfold up to his forehead, revealing what could only be described as a pair of divine treasures: lapis lazuli blue eyes that seemed to hold the entire night sky within them. You were instantly mesmerized, your breath catching in your chest. “Those eyes!” you thought in awe, unable to look away. It was as if a spell had been cast on you, one impossible to break.

“Yorozu?” He asked you.

“Huh?”

THE UPDATE DATE WILL BE SUNDAYS FROM NOW DUE TO PROOFREADING! THX :3

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