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skzdarlings · 7 months ago

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the kingsguard ; jisung x reader ; part i

pairing: han jisung/reader summary: You are a queen. He is a kingsguard - a member of a holy order that vows to defend the king in the name of the gods. They forsake all earthly goods and swear a vow of chastity to avoid all worldly temptation. When he stands in as proxy for the royal wedding, all those vows are tested.

content info: later chapters get smutty. reader has some physical description: mentions of her having very curly hair and a more curvy body.

content warnings: a royal affair between queen reader and guard jisung. the king is a violently abusive man. this chapter contains a scene of physical violence and attempted sexual assault against the reader who later has a panicked reaction. reader also believes sex is not pleasurable (but learns different to say the least).

please proceed at your own discretion.

chapter word count: 5100 words.

There is no groom at your wedding. Your betrothed is too hungover to attend the ceremony.

You are disappointed but not surprised. Last night, your father hosted a welcome banquet but your husband-to-be ignored the lavish festivities in favour of drinking himself into a stupor. It did not matter that banners were hung in the great hall, that a feast was prepared, that the palace glittered in anticipation of his arrival. It did not matter that you were made a vision, resplendent in ivory and pearl, prepared and perfected just for him.

The house, the money, the bride. It did not matter at all.

Such insult would not have been tolerated in a man, but he is a king. Only the heavens can issue him orders, just as he commands common blood like yours.

Your family is wealthy but your father’s land sits at the border. Many at court consider you foreigners in all but paperwork. Regardless of that status, your family owns the most prosperous land in the kingdom – a kingdom with coffers long since drained from an overseas war that reaped nothing but blood.

This arrangement will save the kingdom and your betrothed knows that, but he is not happy to marry for money when his bloodline is better. The king holds nothing but disdain for your union and last night it moved like a poisonous mist through your home.

There was nothing you could do. You sat and watched your royal betrothed make a crude mockery of your arranged marriage. He travelled to your lands with a contingency of courtiers and they filled your house with his contempt. He spent the night belittling your family name, sneering at you, and pawing at the servant girls between drinks.

The king drank. The courtiers laughed.

Only one group extended any civility towards you at all.

“His Majesty sends his regards,” the leader speaks to you now.

He is in black robes, a sword at his hip. Bang Chan is captain of the holy kingsguard, an ancient order sworn to defend heaven’s earthly sovereign. There is nothing holy about the degenerate king but his kingsguard is an ordained ministry nonetheless. They surrender all earthly goods and fortunes, devoting themselves to service and soldiership. That includes a vow of total chastity so they are the only men permitted to perceive the future queen prior to the ceremony.

What little remains of the ceremony.

The soldier informs you the ceremony will now be conducted by proxy. The king is bedridden today, but the wedding cannot be delayed as he is needed back at court and the return journey is long.

Chan is polite and respectful. He does not mention that the marriage cannot be delayed because the king wants money now. You are certain your betrothed’s condemnation of his otherwise worthless bride was rather more unkind.

You remember the cold eyes of his courtiers, his even crueler sneer, and you blink back tears.

“I understand,” you say. You are practiced at maintaining grace in the greatest adversity. “Thank you, soldier.”

Chan wears a pitying expression. It looks like he wants to say more but he knows his place. The kingsguard is the strictest order in the kingdom. Only the most devout are granted the black cloth and silver sword.

“Your Majesty,” he says with a bow.

You are not a majesty yet. You have weddings vows to swear to a stranger first.

Until then, you are just another woman.

You made the wedding dress yourself. You have always enjoyed the craft of needlework, even where certain jobs could be passed along to a seamstress. Growing up, you spent more hours alongside the working women than at your mother’s table, a behaviour that was indulged until the war.

You run your fingers along every familiar stitch, tracing the embroidered floral patterns down your forearm. You always wanted a spring wedding but it was not meant to be. You enter the hall with the hot summer sun pouring over the crystal and marble.

It is an ostentatious ceremony. The king could not afford such a spectacle. It makes you think he absconded on purpose. What better way to wrestle back his dignity than to disregard the expensive ceremony? He kept decorum and travelled to collect his bride only to snub the household in the end.

The king’s absence is felt more than your presence. It turns the grandeur of the hall into a theatrical farce. Courtiers giggle behind their hands, the traditionalists casting you looks of disapproval.

Your own family smiles and you smile weakly back.

For all their faults, you love your family. They thought they were doing something good by arranging this marriage. A small, childish part of you even hoped they were right, but that hope is gone now. You have resigned yourself to the sad reality of the world. Life is a dreary grey save what small bits of colour one dares sew into its seams.

There are flashes of black cloth around the hall. Chan is not among the present kingsguards as the leader stays close to the king, but a handful of the regiment has been spared to witness the proxy vows.

You recognize a soldier named Hyunjin, standing apart for his beauty as much as position. Several of the ladies tittered about him last night, lamenting that such a handsome form was sworn to a chaste life.

You do not recognize the other two. One is shorter and stocky. The other has silver hair and a freckled face, smiling at you from the far corner. You stare back at him, taking the proffered comfort of that open sweetness.

You finally reach the front of the hall. You step onto the dais. The minister rises and a hush cascades down the congregation.

You worry your pounding heart can be heard in the highest arches of the hall.

The first words of the ceremony are a name.

“Han Jisung,” the minister says. It echoes with a swinging reverberation. “As an ordained soldier of the kingsguard, you have been called upon by His Holy Majesty to stand in proxy for the swearing of the vows.”

Footsteps break the silence, beat by beat. Someone ascends the dais.

You do not look at him. You cast your eyes up to the arches of the great hall, tracing the grandiose architecture. It carries cultural traces of the borderlands. The art of this place is home to you, though it draws ire from the courtiers behind you.

You think that you may never feel so at home again, that you will never gaze upon such beauty, then you turn and catch the warmth of deep brown eyes. You see the man who will receive your vows on behalf of the king.

Your racing heart stumbles over itself.

Han Jisung. You did not know his name until now. You recognize this soldier from the banquet last night.

The stranger stands beside you. His nails are painted black, stark where he rests his hand on the silver hilt of his sword. His hair is as black as his midnight robes, his brown eyes darkly lined, but his intimidating shadows are softened by the gentler, roundish shape of his face. There is a raw and open tenderness, even where he tries to stifle it with appropriate solemnity.

Your eyes are drawn to his lips and you remember his smile last night. Jisung strode into the banquet with a sword at his hip and a guitar on his back. It is not unusual for the kingsguard to have a bard, someone who can conjure a flattering song at a whim, who can perform as if the gods speak through his guitar strings. That is Han Jisung.

Last night, while people danced and drank, you sank further and further into yourself. You smiled prettily but all the spring blossoms in your heart rotted as the summer sunset turned to a miserable black gloaming. Torches were lit and the cackling faces on spinning bodies looked like demons in the lamplight. The king ignored you so everyone else did the same.

Jisung, armed with a guitar, was enchanting a crowd of courtiers and some local palace residents. You watched from a distant seat. You could not help but stare, captivated by this stranger, this combination of soldier and musician and holy man. His glowing face in the torchlight was a solitary beacon, his smile more intoxicating than the ever-flowing wine. His laughter rang out like a symphonic chord, travelling the air to touch your ears where you sat alone.

The man was no one to you, just another stranger in your home, but there was such a simple, honest delight to him.

He just seemed so alive.

You were not prepared for the moment he met your gaze. His black robes swished as he jumped, his dark hair bouncing. His eyes seemed to flash gold in the firelight. He stood on a chair above the crowd and said, “A song for the future queen!”

He sang about the springtime, not even knowing you cherished it so much. Perhaps the gods truly spoke through his guitar strings. He sang of new beginnings and hopeful seasons and cherry blossoms.

You smiled.

It was your first real smile all day.

He looks at you now, a flicker of something kind in his dark eyes. You see that twinkle only briefly because he dips into a respectful bow.

You unravel at the sight.

You imagine truly marrying this man, swearing oaths to him and not some wretched figment he serves. You imagine the promise of laughter. You imagine those warm eyes seeking you across the room. You imagine a song every spring.

You know it is a fantasy. This man is a stranger and that version of him is a fabrication. Your heart breaks because that version of you – the girl who is happy for the rest of her life – is just as much an impossible fantasy.

Jisung looks up while bowing. He meets your gaze as a tear trickles down your cheek. No one else notices, just like one else noticed you last night.

As he straightens, his polite smile falters, his brow furrowing with thought.

You jump when he flicks his wrist as if batting a fly. The discreet sweep of his thumb across your cheek is so fast that you only know it happened because the tear track dries.

“In the name of the gods,” the minister speaks, “the ancient and the almighty, we gather here today to unite in matrimony the holiest of subjects. This couple has been brought together through heaven’s all-knowing divine intervention.”

You bow your head. There is nothing else you can do. You listen to the recitations and make your oaths when prompted. You swear before gods and men to serve your husband, to obey him, to always be pure and faithful to him.

“The gods grant you to speak on behalf of the divine blood,” the minister says to Jisung.

You look at Jisung. He is already looking at you. His gaze darts down your dress, across the floral embroidery, and lands at your feet.

Your breath catches when he slowly gets down on one knee, keeping his head bowed and eyes down. A gentle murmur disturbs the congregation but there is no outrage. The king would not have bowed before the queen but the genuflection of a proxy is arguably appropriate.

“I swear,” Jisung says, his theatrical voice replaced with a gentler rasp that tingles up your spine, “I will honour you as a wife and a queen. I will revere you as the gods’ chosen consort.” He looks up, his lashes long and dark, his brown eyes so big and warm. You think he is so beautiful and it makes your heart pang. That ache deepens when he smiles and says, “I will be your protector. Until the day I die, no harm will ever come to you.”

He stands. Blessings are made. The minister pronounces the union has been sanctified by the gods. The congregation kneels in genuflection, respectful of the rituals even if they do not like you. You stand on the dais above them all, maintaining a stoic expression.

You are a wife and a queen, though your husband is nowhere in sight. Your eyes stray to a head of dark hair, bowed with the rest of them.

Jisung looks up, a bit of that hair falling over his eyes. He flashes a smile.

Your heart picks itself up and starts running again.

You cannot do this.

You thought you could try for the sake of your family. You thought you could try for the sake of the gods. You thought you could try for the sake of the kingdom and all the innocent people within it.

Then the king came to your chamber. He did not attend the wedding feast, just as he did not attend the ceremony. It was a fair excuse to make an early departure so you returned to your room while the music played and wine flowed. You were exhausted, emotionally weary, and your face was sore from so many false smiles.

You discarded your elaborate gown. You were in a shift, sitting at your vanity and removing jewelry, when the king arrived. He did not announce himself or knock. He threw open the door and marched inside like a conquering force. He looked over your room with a scrunched face of displeasure, grimacing as if he was standing in a barnyard. He looked at you with the same hateful distaste.

Your throat closed up as if you inhaled poison.

You stood on shaking legs. You had practiced a speech for this moment. You thought perhaps you could convince the king to regard you as a decent friend if not a cherished wife. You were willing to compromise on happiness.

He backhanded you without hesitation. No one had ever hit you so hard. It felt as though he struck you with hot iron, your cheek a stinging welt. Bells seemed to drown out the music downstairs.

“Sire,” you said, your voice shaking worse than your legs.

You found you could not look at him directly. Your eyes burned just turning towards him.

“Get on the bed,” he said. “Wife.” He might as well have said whore as the word was spat.

You never expected to enjoy your wedding night. Women know there is no pleasure in acts of copulation. This was something worse. You approached the bed like a deer skirts the edge of the woods. One wrong step and you knew you this hunter would attack.

He grabbed you from behind before you could sit. You slammed your eyes shut, curled your fists tighter.

In the darkness, you heard music, a distant voice belting some sweeter tune. You recognized Jisung, his crystalline voice soaring above the bells. Your heart chased the sound, a desperate stampede up your body. It seized control.

Before the king could do more harm, you blurted, “I’ve started my monthly bleeding.”

He stopped, the hem of your shift in his fists.

“Just – just so you know,” you said.

It was a lie. You braced yourself for the worst. If he chose to disregard it, if he chose to take you anyway, he would quickly see there was no blood and you were trying to deceive him. He had rights as a husband and it was sinful to deny him.

He made a sound like gagging. He shoved you forward.

You collapsed in a heap on the bed. You are not sure if he looked at you again because you hid your face in the blankets. Hiding like a child hides, as if the world could disappear by not seeing it.

“I will not have you on the road,” he said. “You’re filthy enough as is. When we reach civilized society, you will be made as appropriate as you can be. You will be cleaned, you will lose weight, you will be made to look halfway respectable, not like some borderland animal laying in its own filth. I will have you then without exception. Wife.”

You shuddered when the door slammed shut.

The sun was still setting when he left. It has long since vanished from the sky but you have not moved. You fear if you lift your head, he will be there, waiting to strike.

After a long, long time, you surface. Your room is empty. The lavender light of sunset is gone, leaving behind a puddle of moonlight. It trickles between the curtains, pours down your back. You shiver. You touch your cheek and find it is still tender.

You try to pray but there is no answer. Even the music has ended.

In the ringing silence, you stand. Your body is sore from curling up for so long. It takes some pacing to straighten fully. Back and forth, across your room. Back and forth, in the silence.

I cannot do this. Back and forth, the same thought, again and again.

Disobeying the king is unlawful. Abandoning him when you have sworn an oath is treasonous. Even the kingsguards are bound to their vows for life. If a soldier breaks his oath, he is put to death, swift and sure. The punishment for a disobedient wife is the same.

The silence is agonizing.

You know what you have to do. It will not be easy. The risks are great but you would rather die a swift death than suffer the slow poisoning of contempt.

You have to try for sake of yourself.

Your adrenaline pounds. You pack all your jewelry in a sack to sell. You bring some clean clothes.

There are servant clothes in a stack by the unlit fireplace because you mend their worn garments during the busy seasons. They are always appreciative and you like helping people.

You don a pageboy’s garb and tuck your hair into a hat. The king commented on your build and you grant it gives you away, built with your mother’s curves with a cascade of your father’s curly black hair. You hide all your prominent features as best you can. You will be more inconspicuous as a roaming servant boy.

You tip-toe into the corridor, uncertain if the hallway is guarded. The palace is usually safe but you are a queen now, so maybe the king sent guards. Protecting you was in his oath, after all. The king is beholden to oaths sworn to the gods.

At least, he should be held to his oaths.

The hallway is empty but you are hardly aggrieved. You seize the opportunity and let your racing heart carry you away.

Down the hall, down the winding stairs, through the kitchen, past the door. You slow to a nonchalant canter when passing other servants, making sure to turn your face down and keep to the shadows. Everyone is either busy, drunk, or tired, so you manage to slip past without notice.

Once you are alone outside, you break into a run. You do not leave yourself a moment to think. If you begin to doubt, you will falter, and this will all be over.

You are panting and sweating by the time you reach the stables. You are not exactly in the habit of great exertion. You take a moment to catch your breath while scanning for guards because there must be some. The courtiers have their animals in camps around the palace but the king’s horses are stabled. The kingsguards have alternated shifts to keep an eye on the king’s property.

There are no guards to be found. You approach the stable with cautious steps and slip inside when no one appears. A lit lamp is swinging near the door as though it was recently bumped, but no one is there. The horses shuffle and sweep their tails but it is otherwise silent.

You step to the first stall. Your heartbeat is erratic and it pounds harder when you find a horse already bridled. Did they forget to remove the saddle? This is one of your father’s horses and that is unusual, but you do not question it.

You lead the horse out of the stall and into the middle of the stable. You speak gentle nothings to him. You have not often ridden this horse as he is one of the faster animals, but you will need that speed tonight.

Perhaps the gods are on your side after all.

You take hold of the saddle. You are about to hoist yourself onto the mount when a zing of metal slashes through the silent night. The tip of a sword touches your shoulder.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You recognize that voice.

Of all the kingsguards to find you, of course it would be Han Jisung.

You are so startled that your adrenaline turns from fire to ice. You freeze solid.

“Hey! Little boy!” He lightly jabs you with the sword, just enough to scratch the material of your stolen shirt. “A kingsguard asked you something. Answer me! Now!”

Your hands are still raised when you turn around. It is a slow, begrudging reveal. Your eyes are on the hay-spattered stable floor. You look at his black boots, the silver sheath hanging at his hip. Up, up, up, your eyes slowly lift.

You meet his gaze. His brow is furrowed with frustration but it smooths when he recognizes you. Shock replaces irritation. The sword wobbles and he takes a startled step back.

“You—” he says. He looks at you, slack-jawed, then rubs his eyes as if he cannot believe what he is seeing.

Finally, the sword lowers to his side. His long black robes swish with the movement. His shock gives way to panic.

“What are you doing?” he demands, his voice breaking on a harsh whisper. He swiftly sheaths the sword and takes several determined steps closer to you. “Are you crazy? Where are you going? And what are you wearing?”

“I’m leaving,” you snap back. The burgeoning panic in your chest begins to putter, making you indignant in your desperation. “And I’m obviously in disguise.”

“Oh. A disguise,” he says dryly. His face is theatrical by nature, brows jumping and eyes widening. “Yeah, no one could recognize you like this. Except for, oh, I don’t know—”

Audaciously, Jisung snatches the hat off your head. You yelp, throwing your hands up to grab it, but he pulls it away faster than a blink.

Your hair tumbles free, curls even messier than before. You slap your hands over your head, frantically smoothing them down. Your arms start to shake, all that panic and adrenaline bubbling, needing somewhere to go. You feel as though you are going to burst, a screaming firework shooting through the roof of this stable.

“I would have been fine with the hat,” you snap. “I made it this far.”

“Only because half this house is drunk,” he replies with equal verve. “Look at you, your hair, your face, your – your body.” He stumbles over that one, eyes flicking down your form and up again. He clears his throat and shakes his head. “You would have been caught immediately. You were caught immediately.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say. “I know my way.”

“There’s no way a girl like you has ever ridden anywhere past your family’s land,” he says.

You are flushed with heat and aggravation. You want to argue but he is not wrong. You know the general direction to town but you have never ridden there alone.

“I know my way,” you say again.

“Do you?” He takes a step closer. “You go north – I assume you know which trails are occupied by bandits? And the east – you know which path to take to avoid the mountain lions? Or the west – if you go over the border and the men who live in those woods discover you alone—”

“Stop it!” You throw your hands up over your ears. All that panicked heat simmers and spills. It turns to tears.

You sob.

He’s right. You know he’s right. You let your desperation and your adrenaline carry you this far, but you are not prepared for an arduous journey. You have a sack of jewels that are a greater liability than asset on dangerous roads. What would you have done if they were stolen? What would you have done if someone hurt you? You have nothing. No map, no direction, and no hope.

Jisung’s shoulders drop. His own passion tempers itself, his frustration cooling in the face of your tears. He was also carried away but you don’t blame him. He is a kingsguard. He is duty-bound to protect the king and the king’s property, which you are.

He found you committing treason. You are lucky he did not hold a sword to your throat and drag you to the king.

His sword stays sheathed. He looks at you, expression morose.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a soft voice. “You know I can’t let you go.”

“I know,” you whisper, gasping through your tears.

If you were not so miserable, you might have laughed at the look on his face. You are certain this man has encountered many adversaries, but never a sobbing woman. He would have been happier dealing with a real thief.

His hand lifts and falls as he wars with himself, evidently debating whether he should touch you or not. You stand there, sobbing into your hands while he watches helplessly.

When he does touch you, it is careful. His fingertips are light on your shoulder, then the slow curving touch of his palm as he gently squeezes. It is the first kind touch in days and it sends a shiver down your spine. You look at him, eyes wet with tears, imploring with no words.

His mouth opens but he doesn’t speak. A breath stutters past his lips. Slowly, he takes back his hand and curls his fingers into his palm. He swallows.

You stare at each other in the dim lamplight. You are not sure how long you would have stood there but you are interrupted before you can find out.

There is a soft knock at the stable door and Jisung jumps as if it was thunder. His head whips around, looking between you and the door.

“Fuck,” he says. His brows leap and he covers his mouth. “You didn’t hear that. Quick.”

You have no opportunity to ask questions. He swiftly ushers you into the empty stall, closing the door behind you. He races to the stable entrance to greet whoever is there.

You hold your breath, hiding in the shadows as someone enters the stable. Jisung and the intruder speak in hushed tones that you cannot decipher. You inch closer to the door, peeking through the slats of wood.

It is another kingsguard. He was not at the festivities but you recognize him from the ceremony. He is the silver-haired one with the face full of freckles, the one who smiled at you so kindly. You would recognize such a unique face anywhere. For some reason, he is dressed in civilian garb even though the kingsguard is not allowed to wear anything but their black robes.

You can hear better as they step further inside.

“Thank you again,” the silver-haired man says.

“Don’t thank me yet, Felix,” Jisung replies. “I still think you’re crazy, man.”

“Still,” the man, Felix, replies. “Not everyone would have helped. You didn’t have any problems?”

Jisung is adjusting the saddle on the horse. His eyes lift and meet yours through the slats. You duck further into shadow.

Jisung sighs and shakes his head. He tightens the reigns then hands them to Felix.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Jisung says.

Another figure steps into view, one who has been silent this whole time. You watch as the person draws back their hood, revealing a woman around your age. By the style of her gown, you can tell she is a courtier from the capital. She smiles at Jisung.

“Thank you, Han Jisung,” she says. “The gods will reward your courageous heart.”

“Ah-ha-ha.” He giggles nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “I already have everything I need. Some of us—” He casts a withering look at Felix, though his tone is light and teasing, “—can keep our chastity vows. I don’t need anything more than service.”

Felix chuckles. He holds out his hand to the woman and she hurries into his arms.

“If that’s your path, I hope it will make you happy,” Felix says.

You watch as they help the woman onto the horse. Felix swings up behind her. They both pull hoods over their heads.

Jisung reaches up, offering Felix his hand. Felix clasps it.

“Brother,” Felix says.

“Crazy man,” Jisung replies.

Felix smiles. They drop hands and Felix takes the reigns. With an expert click, he marches the horse into a swift canter and rides out the open stable door. Jisung strides forward to watch them leave, craning his neck to see further.

Now you know why there were no guards and a horse was prepared. Felix and Jisung must have been posted as guards and took the opportunity to sneak Felix away. Felix, who has evidently committed treason, breaking his vow as a kingsguard to ride off with a woman.

You doubt this was a whim. You wonder how long the trio has been planning this. If there was ever a time for a guard to steal a horse and sneak away, it would be in the busy chaos of a wedding week. Like Jisung said, most of the household is drunk. Others are tired and resting. A long journey back to the capital begins tomorrow and it cannot be diverted.

It is a journey you will have to make.

You nudge the door open. Jisung’s shoulders jump as if he forgot you were there. He regards you warily as you step forward.

“So,” you say. “It’s okay for some people to commit treason.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Jisung answers quickly. “Felix can handle himself out there.”

You have both witnessed the other commit a treasonous act. You could rat him out to the king, just as he could drag you back and do the same. Instead, you stare at each other, your gazes measuring. You meet in the middle.

“Do you think we understand each other?” he asks.

He holds out his hand in offering. You remember his quick but substantial touch at the ceremony, the moment he wiped the tear from your cheek. For all that darkness circles the periphery of him, there is something warm at the centre of his character. It compels you to trust him.

You take his hand.

“I do,” you say.

#han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #jisung smut #han jisung x you #jisung x reader #jisung x you #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader

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forcemeanakin · 1 year ago

Text

Hot with brains

•WARNINGS: SMUT. Fingering (f receiving), oral fixation, dirty talk, praise kink and also degrading kink, corruption kink kinda??? Edging. Public space. The OC has a kink that attracts her to smart guys.

Pairing: ROTS!Anakin Skywalker x Female!reader.

Summary: Anakin falls for the librarian at the Jedi Temple, however, he soon realizes his adorable smile and golden curls won’t cut it with this one. No, she likes something different: brains.

Word count: 4.7K.

A/N: Pretty self-indulgent piece. I've been obsessed with Anakin's engineering brain ever since I got into Star Wars and this idea had be floating around for a whileeeee. Hope you all enjoy reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it!

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You liked smart guys.

It wasn’t a kink per sé. You just couldn’t see yourself hooking up with someone with no brains, let alone establishing a committed relationship with them. You were swoon by guys with deep thoughts and admirable speech skills. The type of man that would go for a whisky instead of a beer, or use real shoes instead of plain sneakers.

You being a snob might have to do with your upbringing, after all you were the daughter of two scholars and professors of one of the most prestigious universities of Coruscant. You were raised to be logical and love intellectual conversations. You wouldn’t- No. You couldn’t see yourself enjoying a space with someone with a low IQ.

That was the reasoning behind taking the internship in the Jedi Temple’s library as part of your college voluntary program. You had to volunteer a certain amount of hours in order to graduate from your Journalism degree with honors.

You thought that even though this wasn’t exactly the area in which you were specializing, you would soak up some of the ancient knowledge of the Order, even make some great connections for the future. And so far it has been just that: A great experience. You got to read some really cool books and in the hours where no one would come, you got to finish some school work. The Jedi who would visit the library were nice and kind, always polite with a big smile. You even grew really fond of a young Togruta padawan that would spend her breaks in between training devouring books.

It was calm and quiet.

Until the storm broke through the door.

“Is this the one you’re looking for?” You yelled to Ahsoka as you climbed down the stairs with the title she asked for.

“Yes! Thank you, y/n!” She gave you a hug and ran to her table to start reading about the swamps in Dagobah.

You returned to your desk and kept registering the book’s codes into the control sheet when a loud sound made you look to the door, the one that was violently being thrown to open room for a tall, curly-haired man with dark robes.

You would recognize those robes anywhere. In reality, anyone from any point of the galaxy would recognize them.

Anakin Skywalker.

One of the few exceptions of Jedi men who didn’t live up to the sophisticated standard of the Order’s image. And definitely someone you would prefer to stay away from. For some reason he was the favorite warrior of the people; the citizens would line up in front of the Temple to scream “Hero with no fear” to that pretentious douchebag.

He was fine.

As what most people would call courageous, you would say careless. To others he was passionate, to you he was irrational. Not to mention how idiotic and unsubordinated he was; always talking back and doing things his way, ignoring what the guidelines said.

You didn’t like him. You didn’t like him at all. For that you were thankful that he never set foot into your sacred place. Until that doomed day.

“C’mon, Snips.” He shouted, approaching the desk where she sat. “We need to go. Council just called.”

“Can I have five more minutes? I’ve barely read anything about where we are going!” Ahsoka whined.

“You don’t need to read anything, we will find out anything that’s necessary there.” He huffed, finding his apprentice’s actions ridiculous.

You quietly sighed and rolled my eyes. Of course.

“Fine… but y/n really took her time fetching it for me.” She exhaled annoyed and closed the book.

Your eyes remained glued to your task at hand, not willing to look up and be involved in some type of pending argument.

“Who’s y/n?” Anakin scoffed rather loudly.

“Y/n! The volunteer?” Anakin frowned at the short explanation and shook his head in a negative motion. “You know, y/n! C’mon Skyguy, follow me.”

No, please no, you whispered to your insides.

“Hey, y/n!” You heard Ahsoka’s little footsteps running to where you were.

“What can I do for you, Soka?” You answered, still pretending that you were too busy to move your head from its position.

“Skyguy hasn’t met you. Here, Anakin, y/n. She helps us out here in the library.”

“Ahsoka, we’re not supposed to be having social meetings, we need to go-” You finally gazed up and in that moment, Anakin and you made eye contact for the first time; it was intense. It felt like something clicked for him. “You must be Y/n.” Anakin shook his head lightly, hinting a little smirk as leaned over your table with fixed eyes.

Hell, no.

“Yes, I am. How may I help you?” You were bitter, totally unbothered by his chiseled cheekbones, or his gorgeous hair, or his plumped lips. Not even the scar had any effect whatsoever. He was an ass and that was automatically a turn off for you.

“I’m sorry I haven’t met you. You must be new.” He explained with dreamy eyes, subtly checking you out. You cursed the moment you decided to come in today with a blouse who had a bit of a cleavage. “I’m Anakin. Anakin Skywalker.”

“Actually, I’ve been here for almost two months now.” You suppressed the soul-eating need to roll your eyes.

“Oh, really? Sorry, I don’t come here much.” He leaned over even more, trying to keep eye contact even when you sat down.

“Obviously.” You whispered on the low.

“Excuse me?” Anakin frowned, interrupting his beam to pout with confusion.

“Nothing.” You smiled widely with a fake grin.

“Okay…” His frown deepened before a smirk broke out his lips. “Maybe I will make it a habit and visit more often.” He shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head to the side, deciphering the effects of his statement on you.

“You should.” You looked at him and gave him a side-smile, making his eyes sparkle. “Books are good for you.” You returned to check the order of nabooian books on your computer.

“Yeah, books are cool but there are other things I would much rather check out.” He smirked shamelessly at you, the back-handed comment flying way over his head.

You felt like gagging. Not the good kind.

Before you could come up with a clever response and shut him down for good, Ahsoka spoke from behind him.

“Ugh, gross! Let’s go!” The kid dragged him out by his clothes and before he disappeared through the glass door, he winked at you.

That was the first time you have seen him. First of many, many more.

Since the day your paths crossed, he took every fleeting moment to come and “read”, when in reality it was just him eating, or drawing or doing anything but opening a book. Taking advantage of your breaks, or whenever you returned to your seat after doing rounds, he would come over and make conversation. About his battles, his accomplishments, his close-calls to death… or about random facts he collected from his missions and travels; Anything that would maybe impress you.

And when he wasn’t doing that? He would drown you in compliments, to see if in fact, you soften up to him. Anakin was already aware of your no-so-secret disgust towards him the day he caught one of your eye rolls.

Did he care? No.

He was persistent: admiring your hair, loving the way you had styled it in a little bun (even though it was because the heat was eating you alive). He would ask about the tasks you were performing, sucking at pretending to be interested in hearing about organizing books in alphabetical order.

And it would have maybe worked; his good looks combined to his natural charisma were enough to make any mortal melt at his sight. You almost combust when you saw him carrying some wood boards into the library, the primal part of you rejoicing at the sight of his strong muscles stretching. The man was eye candy, whether you like it or not.

But, boy, were you tough.

Anakin Skywalker was not your cup of tea to say the least. You wouldn’t collaborate in his attempts to get to know you. You were so uninterested in finding out more about him when you had already scanned him. Just a way-too-handsome-for-his-own-good guy who was lucky enough to be born as the Chosen One, because otherwise, he would have never made it in the Order. He was determined, you would give him that.

His approaches were never creepy or invasive enough to make you uncomfortable, only to drive you wild. Even when he was the worst part of your day, you had to keep the polite but distant charade going on, in order to protect your job. Your disgust towards him, instead of hurting him, amused him. He liked challenges and you were freaking Mission Impossible. Although he also saw the flaws in you: a pretentious prick girl who had probably achieved everything in her life thanks to nepotism. But he could see past that.

Because, boy, were you hot.

And he was sure you liked it nasty.

Underneath your goodie-two-shoes clothes hid the true you: he knew you loved being treated like a filthy slut.

“Hello, y/n!” Ahsoka squealed in an excited voice. You two have grown to adore each other.

“Hey, Soka!” You responded happily, finishing to put some encyclopedias on a shelf. When you turned around, you saw she wasn’t alone. “Oh… good afternoon, Anakin.”

“Nice to see you too, y/n.” Anakin huffed in a sarcastic voice before strolling to where you were, Ahsoka following close behind. “Is that a new shirt? It suits you.”

“No, it’s the same white button up shirt that I’ve always used.” You smiled and turned around to roll your eyes in peace. He was too busy devouring your bosom behind the fabric to ever notice the barrier between his eyes and your skin.

“Y/n, do you think you could grab me a book about loreeks? I’m doing a little presentation about them for my science class.” Ahsoka asked you with a sweet voice.

“Oh sure… just let me look oveeeer…” You walked, stretching the words as you searched in the countless sections. “...here. It must be on one of these shelves.” You announced when you entered the exotic animals aisle.

Digitating the code on your scanner you found out it was in one of the tallest shelves, only reachable with a ladder. Right when you were about to move it, Anakin came in.

“Don’t worry, Y/n. I’ll get it.” And he used the Force to bring the book down. “Here you go Snips, study hard.” He nudged her head, annoying her.

“Yeah, I guess… but it’s Friday. Can I read after I hang out with the other padawans? Barris and Meelo are going skating!” She gave her best puppy eyes, to which Anakin agreed, after giving it little to no thought.

“You didn’t have to give her the book, I could have done it.” You waited for Ahsoka to leave before dropping the bomb.

“Easy there, kitten. I was just helping out.” He furrowed his eyebrows. As if the unnecessary nickname wasn’t enough to drive you mad. Looking down, he saw the rest of your outfit and lingered his eyes more than necessary in your short, black skirt. “On second thought, I might have let you do it.” He smirked confidently.

“Just stay out of my way, okay?” You growled, walking away from him to your desk, not without bumping your shoulder with his on your way out.

“What the hell is your problem?” He asked with an incredulous face.

You were done. The build-up from the past month was beginning to choke down your sense of decency. Not to mention that your day was already going terrible before he appeared: the droid that would always help you out was broken, significantly delaying your work day. Also, it was laundry day and you had to use your uncomfortable lingerie.

“You know what, Skywalker?” You turned around with raised eyebrows. “You’re my problem.” He opened his eyes in bewilderment. “I don’t like you. I don’t appreciate you coming in, all macho-” You made a mocking manner. “-acting like a goddamn superhero, only after cleaning up the mess you created in the first place.” You crossed your arms in your chest.

“I’m a general, kitten, and I can assure you the war it’s not my fault.” He scoffed, he used the nickname again, knowing it would press your buttons.

“And how many times have you messed it up bigger than it was?” You squinted your eyes, only to see him run out of words. “That’s what I thought.” You came back to digitating codes. “It’s like you don’t think. You are just a machine run by adrenaline and praise.” You finally rolled your eyes in front of him without shame. You tried to run down the reports that C7, your assistant droid would do, only to fail and almost delete everything in your computer. “And I can assure you I have bigger problems than dealing with you!”

“Okay, back down-”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You yelled, getting desperate and throwing a tantrum at the device. You had enough for the day. You could leave, given that no one would come over this late, but your sense of responsibility prevented you from going home before finishing your work load. “I fucking hate this system!”

“Let me see-”

“Don’t! Just don’t, okay?” You swatted his hand away. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Could you stop being so stuck-up and let me help you?” He raised his voice, stepping up close to tower you. His eyes were on fire and you could sense that your previous comments did get to him, but for some reason outside of your understanding, he was still willing to help.

“Fine.” You chewed the words in your mouth, stepping down as you glared at him, giving him space to analyze the situation.

Instead of leaning down the computer, he went directly to C7, who lingered weakly on the side of your desk. He picked him up and put it on the table, moving him around his hands to examine the droid. He hummed after a couple of minutes, putting the mechanical body at eye level. “I see.”

“See what? What is it?” You pressed, trying to pick a glance from over his shoulder.

“I’m going to need my tools.” He murmured, dropping the droid back again.

“Wh-”

“I’ll be right back.” He exclaimed, before heading to the door in a rush.

“Wait! What?” You shouted, the shadow of his body the only thing visible.

You stayed alone for about fifteen minutes. You even got to thinking that he was pulling a prank on you, after yelling at him. But you stayed there, because well… what else would you do? You were beginning to fall asleep as you played with paper clips, when you heard the door being opened again.

“Finally! I thought you had left!” You sighed in relief, pushing your body off your desk.

“I was getting my tools, I told you.” He frowned, lifting the heavy, dark red box to the white marble. “Now let’s bring this one back to life.” He smiled, before busting the carcass open.

It took Anakin less than what you waited for him to get C7 up and running again. He flipped panels, snapped cables and pressed buttons, at an order that seemed random to you, until C7’s mechanical eyes opened again.

“Oh my God!” You laughed in disbelief. “He’s functioning again!”

Anakin smiled down at the table, as he finished up adjusting some screws. C7 sat up, analyzing his surroundings before getting up and going straight back to work.

“I-I-” You were speechless. How did he do that? So fast? “I can’t believe you just did that.” You mumbled, still looking at C7 like it was a ghost. “Thank you, Anakin.” You turned around with apologizing eyes, twitching an embarrassed smile.

“No problem. His transmitter was disconnected from the main system. I had to fix his-” The next couple of things that he mentioned sounded like pure gibberish to you, but he was very firm, so it must be true. Right? Sensing your bafflement, he spilled facts slower and quieter until he stopped talking, finalizing with a dry smile. “Yeah, it was nothing.”

He was starting to pack everything in his toolbox again and you had a pending need to say something. However, you didn’t know if you should kick off with a real apology or-

“How did you know all that?” So a pop quiz it was. In your defense, you were genuinely curious about the abilities he had just demonstrated. Mindblown, to be more specific.

“About what?” He furrowed his brows, closing the box but leaving on the table.

“About the transmitter, and the restraining bolt, and- and-” You were running out of technical terms.

“Mechanics are second nature to me at this point.” He shrugged his shoulders, picking up the box. “I know everything about the topic, so, it was an easy fix. I’d have rearranged his central system if I had the missing part, but it’s very specific. What I did will do for now, though.”

He was about to leave when he noticed the way you were leaning on the table, head on top of your fist to pay close attention to him. You were murmuring almost unhearable “uh-huh”s, totally lost in his words.

“Sooo, you know mechanics.” You were such a hypocrite, you couldn’t stand the man fifteen minutes ago and now you were drooling over the sight of him explaining complicated shit to you. Snob. “You often fix things?” You tried to investigate, see if the throbbing happening between your legs was worth pursuing.

“Sometimes… I often go to the hangar and repair the damaged ships or flip them.” He grinned without teeth. “The techs often ask for me. They say I have an eye for these things. Been working on droids since I was a kid, so.” Anakin wasn’t trying to brag, but his ample knowledge in mechanics was something that he prided himself on.

“That seems like a lot of work.” You continued the small talk, slowly losing yourself over this spontaneous crush.

“It can get tricky.” He dismissed, beginning to notice the glint on your eyes. He recognized the way your irises had darkened: He got those fuck-me eyes wherever he went. “Still haven’t found something I can’t fix.”

But it was involuntary. The fact that he was an expert on a matter as hard as mechanics scratched a part of your brain; It flipped a switch inside of you. Anakin was a different man under your eyes now. He was smart, hella smart.

“Gosh, that’s so impressive.” You giggled like the girls that would flirt at him. Pathetic. But you quickly regained control, not before sucking up some courage and getting closer to him, posing more seductively this time. “That brain of yours sure hides lots of secrets.”

He hadn’t quite figured out why the change of heart, so it took him a moment to replay your evening together. It lasted a bit more than he liked to admit, but it hit him. Of course. An arrogant smile cracked his face. Of course you would be attracted to someone who was a master of something you consider relevant. After all, you liked to consider yourself an “intellectual”. Just to test his theory, he consciously started to brag about something else… something that would have your panties in a bunch if his hypothesis was correct.

“Wanna know another one?” He cocked an eyebrow, resting his elbow on the table to stand inches away from your face.

Your face shined with a slight pink blush, but it was the way you bit your lip that drove him crazy. That and your enthusiastic nod. “Yeah.”

“There’s a reason behind why I’m the best pilot of the fleet. And it’s not just because of my background as a pod racer or the Force.” He whispered, snickering at how soft your eyes had grown. “It’s actually because… I use physics.”

“Physics?” You almost moaned.

“Yeah, physics.” He repeated, moistening his lips, a thing your eyes followed. “Self-taught, just like with mechanics.”

That ripped a subtle whimper out of you. Well, not subtle to him.

“You-you understand math?” If it wasn’t because you were visibly squeezing your thighs at the newly acquired information, he would be completely offended that you thought he was dumb as fuck.

“Love em.” He muttered, his intense stare glued to you, as his fingers put a string of hair behind your ear.

Like thunder, you were rushing to capture his lips and show him just how hot you thought he was now. Anakin freezed at first, taking aback by your sudden demonstration of affection, but when he understood that you were willingly -and enthusiastically- giving yourself to him, he wasted no time to embrace you back.

Wet kisses splashed everywhere; it was fucking mess. You hung onto his shoulders while he groped all of your body, starting with your sweet hips, fondling your ass like it was his personal stress ball and finally landing on your waist. You pressed against him shamelessly, but in reality, how much shame could you still have when the man’s tongue was down your throat? The only thing you knew with certainty was that the sucking sounds and moans you both dropped were intensifying the already sex-filled atmosphere.

“Anakin.” You tried to sound normal, but your voice was failing just like your knees were. “W-why haven’t you gone to a proper school? Maybe get a degree?”

Was that seriously so important to you? The opinion of others? Anakin questioned in his own head.

Anakin was the kind of person that wasn’t susceptible to the opinion of others, especially regarding his own image. He was sure of the shit he knew and didn’t need anyone validating that for him. No expensive universities, no uptight professors; Obi-Wan was more than enough. Nonetheless, he had found a shortcut to get inside your pants and God as his witness, he was gonna use it.

“Y/n.” He snickered right in your face, drinking in the power. “I don’t care about any of that. I'm a certified engineer, that’s how I got to build this myself.” Removing the leather, he revealed his mechanical limb to you, wiggling his fingers.

It was fancier than you ever thought a mechanical hand could be. Black with touches of gold; it was elegant and sophisticated, way more advanced than any technology you had ever seen in the orthopedics research field. And you knew it well, your mom was an orthopedic surgeon.

It was no surprise to him that after spilling that last fact you were now shamelessly grinding on his half-hard. The fact that he was an engineering mastermind was such an aphrodisiac. And as much as he wanted to have another taste of your full, pink lips, the ones he often imagined enveloped around his dick while you scolded him, Anakin wasn’t willing to make the first move.

You were going to have to beg for it.

“Anakin?” Your hands flattened on his pecs, back arching when he cupped your cheek with the cool durasteel prosthetic, kneading against it with soft eyes. He must have noticed how captivated you were by his invention.

“Yeah, baby?” He continued the soft ministrations up and down your cheek, redirecting your gaze to his face whenever your eyes would deviate to his artificial limb.

“You- Uhm, you built it from scratch?” You gulped when his thumb inched closer to your mouth, rubbing your bottom lip and pulling it open.

Little obedient you put no resistance, and instead, stuck out your wet tongue to happily receive his digit into your warmness. But this time it was his index, the one you were bobbing your head into, eye contact not faltering even when you were practically giving oral to his hand. Anakin smiled pleased at your enthusiasm for pleasuring him and added another finger for you to lubricate.

“From scratch.” He nodded, lustful irises boring into you. “Designed it too.”

You moaned around him, feeling content with being sandwiched between his firm torso and your desk, and with your mouth being fucked by his fingers. Saliva smeared all over your chin, you whined pitifully when your lips were no longer stuffed. On the contrary of leaving you all hot and bothered, Anakin lowered those same fingers to your leaky cunt, pushing your underwear aside for easy access.

He groaned when he first inserted a finger, your gasping a sign for him to slow down. “Baby, you’re tight.” He seemed to love that about you.

After adjusting to the size of his strong index finger, Anakin breached in with his middle one, repeating the process of you getting used to the coldness and girth all over.

“A-Anakin.” You closed your eyes, involuntarily standing on your tippy toes.

“That’s right, you’re doing so well. Taking my fingers like a true champ.” He bit down a condescending smile. “Atta girl.”

The initial discomfort was just a milestone you had to overcome to succumb to the pleasure that it was being fucked by Anakin Skywalker’s metal hand. His frigid thumb came to roll over your bundle of nerves, helping you relax into him and enjoy the sensation of fully riding his hand.

“That’s it. Fuck my hand just like that, kitten.” He chuckled, finding a spot on your neck to latch on, leave a little souvenir of your encounter, and hide his pitiful laugh.

Kisses were peppered along your exposed throat, your clavicle and jaw, his long eyelashes tickling you and making you clench around his metal hand tighter. Whilst you worried about not whining too loud for anyone to enter the library, Anakin was pumping his fingers at such an unholy pace to complicate your task.

“Shhh, baby. You need to be quiet. Wouldn’t like for anyone to come in. You could lose your job.” He mocked with a side smile and you had to gripped his bicep to keep your balance. “Could you imagine? Getting caught having sex at work? With a Jedi?”

You could perceive that the trespassing of the pseudo-celibacy Jedi code was turning him to no end, the mischievous glimmer in his eyes getting stronger when he said the last sentence.

“W-We’re not having sex.” You corrected him, like it mattered. Like having him knuckles deep into you was somehow less frowned-upon than to have actual coitus.

That made him laugh and you wiggled underneath him, fighting to not let your tears fall.

“You just wait.” His lips ghosted over yours, his breath fanning over your heated face. The increase of the movements of his hand was a sign that he had noticed the contractions around his digits, fully aware that you were close. “Ready to come, baby? Gonna gush all over me?”

You nodded, biting your swollen lip, losing the battle against your tear duct. Anakin used his other thumb, the one that was not torturing your clit, to liberate your abused lip. His mouth lowered to capture yours in a hot kiss, this tongue sliding on your inside until it hit your throat. So deep into you that you would never forget his taste; so deep you will never be able to deny him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You whimpered against his smile when you reached your peak, dissolving into this meaningless mass between his arms. “Anakin…” You rode out your climax, still rocking your hips to prolong the pleasure.

Anakin waited until you regained some composure to help you fix your clothes, putting back your underwear as he found it and lowering your skirt. His actions had you frowning: Weren’t you two gonna fuck? You were already mentally prepared to welcome his enormous cock in your tiny canal.

He grinned at your puppy eyes and adorable pout, your flustered state funnier than it should be. It was almost enough to break him. But someone had to give you a lesson.

“At the end of the day, I’m just a soldier, Y/n. An incompetent one, according to you.”

Before you could protest that, he was tilting his head in an accusatory manner. Like saying: Don’t even try it. And before leaving with his head high, he spat:

“My apologies if that’s not fancy enough for you, ma’am.”

3K notes · View notes

bbyleiah · 1 year ago

Text

PREDATOR.

| serial killer Toji comes across you in the creepy hardware store you work in. He initially found you annoying, as you always somehow managed to get in his way but then he became infatuated with you..completely obsessed and set on tying you to him forever. |

cw : serial killer!Toji , black reader, kinda graphic murder scene description, heavy stalking, heavy degradation (bitch, slut, whore, etc.), physical harm(she cuts him, he puts her in a chokehold), threats, manipulation, spitting, choking, blowjob, shoe riding, wet dream, lots of dirty talk, pet names (bun, peach/peaches, little mouse), naive reader, kinda dub-con, nipple play, dry humping, marking, lots of slapping (tit-slapping, pussy slapping, he slaps her in the face once), mating press, fluids, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, dacryphilia, sadist!Toji, masochist!Reader, and probably way more warnings I forgot abt 🥹 (there’s some soft parts in this fic too ☝🏽)

word count : very longgg, so get comfy 🫶🏽

sn : this is my contribution to kinktober 🤲🏾 read at ur own discretion

You were completely exhausted towards the end of your shift at this hardware store. You’d been here since 11am and it was now going on 9pm. Your feet hurt so bad from standing at the register and you had enough of the weirdos that frequented your store. “Only 30 minutes left..” you muttered to yourself with a sigh as you glanced at the clock.

You’d hoped no more customers would come in during your last few minutes but of course luck wasn’t on your side. Two men came in, one after the other seemingly shopping for different things. One of them seemed like an average creepy suburban dad, wearing khakis and a polo shirt with one of those bushy mustaches. The other man was spooky.

You couldn’t even see his face due to the fact he had a hood hanging perfectly over his head, he was dressed in all black from head to toe. Black boots, black pants, a black zip up jacket that seemed heavy duty, and the man was huge, towering over the shelves in the store. You definitely hoped he’d get whatever he was looking for and leave soon.

You knew you shouldn’t be judging books by their cover but this job was boring and you were a people watcher at heart, it was the only thing that kept you entertained. The suburban dad came up to the register first, purchasing simple things like tape, paint, and nails. “You found everything okay?” You asked, putting on your customer service voice and smile.

“I sure did! Say, what’s a pretty thing like you doing working so late?” The male spoke with a flirtatious lilt that immediately made you uncomfortable. You didn’t even look attractive at the moment, dressed in your work uniform with your curly hair in a messy bun, slight eye bags under your brown eyes, looking beat and worn down from your shift. Men always had the audacity. “Uhm just getting a hard work’s pay, you know?” You tried to laugh it off.

“Mm, hardworking and beautiful. Sounds like a treat. You wouldn’t have to work so hard with me~” He continued his advances, licking his lips as he eyed you. You wanted to throw up, this interaction was disgusting. “No thank you.” You replied as you began to ring up his stuff faster so that he’d leave quicker. “Ah, don’t be so mean. I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.” He purred as he got more into your personal space.

Before you could respond, you saw the man’s face get bashed into the counter. You screamed in horror, it happened so quickly you could barely register it happening. “Fucking creep.” The spooky man spat out in disgust as he let the man go, watching him drop and slump onto the floor. Your eyes were wide in shock and fear as you stared up at the tall violent man.

“Don’t worry, he’s not dead.” The man told you, all nonchalantly in that deep raspy voice of his that sent shivers up your spine. You were too scared to respond or move, just standing there like a little deer prey in headlights. You still couldn’t fully see the man’s face, only seeing his lips and his chin, it appeared that he had a scar on the corner of his mouth.

The man placed his items on the counter casually, ignoring the blood now splattered on it. “Do I have to ring these up myself? Or are you gonna do your job?” He questioned you. “N-No! I got it!” You squeaked, immediately snapping back into work mode as you scrambled to ring up his items. Your hands shaking and tears forming in your eyes.

This man was intimidating beyond belief. You could just feel him staring you down as you haphazardly rung up his items. “Relax little mouse, I’m not gonna hurt you.” The man suddenly said, it seemed like an attempt to comfort you but it honestly only freaked you out more. Especially the pet name he used. You did some breathing to calm yourself though and regain your composure.

Toji wasn’t surprised at how terrified you were of him but he didn’t care. He honestly didn’t mean to attack the guy but Toji was already riled up from a previous altercation he just had and that prick irked his last nerve. Toji felt like the guy rightfully deserved to get his face bashed in. Toji was slightly intrigued by you though, you were mostly well composed despite being scared shitless. It was obvious you were just an innocent little thing though, oblivious to the fact that a serial killer was standing in front of you.

“H-Have a great rest of your night” You stuttered out, not looking at the man as you handed him his bag. He hummed in response, grabbing it from you before he began to leave. You noticed his bruised and bloody knuckles as he grabbed the bag, that man was definitely dangerous and another reason why you should quit this job.

“Wait!” You called out to him once you realized something, it was stupid but you weren’t always the smartest. He stopped in his tracks, looking back at you. “Uh..my shift is over and uh..what am I supposed to do with this guy..?” You sheepishly asked the scary man as you pointed to the unconscious man on the floor. Toji was amused by your question. “Leave him there.” Toji said before he left fully. Leaving you there dumbfounded.

“What the actual fuck?” You said out loud, talking to yourself at this point. You had enough of this shift and this job in general. You let your manager know about the situation and you clocked out and left, leaving the man there just like the dude told you to because there wasn’t much else you could do anyways.

You called your bestfriend on your walk home, ranting to him about everything that happened. “So he just bashed the guy’s head and dipped?! Like nothing?” your friend Oliver exclaimed through the phone. “Yes! I was scared to death. Literally shaking in my boots. I still have no clue what creepster dude even looks like” you huffed.

“Well he kinda sounds like a pussy throbber to be honest…but! he’s psycho which is a major red flag. Plus you know there’s a serial killer roaming around. It’s all over the news.” He hummed. “Ew! He was not a pussy throbber!” You denied even though you blushed a little. “There’s a serial killer roaming? Since when?” You asked, clueless.

“Bitch, do you live under a damn rock?. They’ve been killing people for weeks!. Lord, you’re such an easy victim too, so oblivious to everything.” Oliver sighed while shaking his head even though you couldn’t see him. “Uh actually I have a taser and I took self defense classes. I’d say I’m a pretty tough victim.” You defended. “Girl, you’re delusional.” Oliver cackled.

You knew he was probably right, it was proven by how you were walking alone in the middle of the night right now. Taking alleyways as short cuts which was stupid but you’d walked this path plenty of times and nothing has happened before so you doubted anything would happen. You were so wrong though. You ended up walking towards a fight it seemed, an unfair one at that. The tall male figure beating the shit out of some guy.

You stood there stupidly and watched, even though you knew you should’ve turned around. You let out a scream when you saw the tall male slit the other guy’s throat before stabbing the male repeatedly in the face. The killer immediately snapped his attention on you after hearing your scream. You felt like your heart stopped in that moment, going into panic mode as you instantly turned around and began to run for your life.

You had tuned out your phone call with Oliver, who was still on the line and worried sick. Even though you were running, no one was chasing after you. Toji groaned in annoyance, “Pesky fucking mouse.” He said as he ran his bloody hand down his face in frustration. Toji had never been caught while he was murdering someone before, he was too smooth and precise with his kills but apparently luck was not on his side today at all.

This kill was pretty reckless too but he still hadn’t expected to be seen, and of course it had to be you. Typically he’d kill anyone who got involved with his kills but he knew you were harmless so he was gonna leave you be..for now. You were sobbing once you finally made it to your apartment complex, completely out of breath from sprinting with all your might.

You’d managed to actually respond to Oliver and ease his worries once you stopped freaking out. He still was concerned though and said he’d come visit in the morning and take you to work. You wiped your tears, taking off your uniform and getting into a hot shower. Hoping the shower would soothe you and get you to stop trembling. It helped slightly, but you were still traumatized.

You could barely sleep, tossing and turning in your bed unable to get the visual out of your mind of someone being brutally murdered in front of you. Part of you had the right mind to tell the police about what you saw, but the other part was terrified the killer would come after you next. So you decided the best decision for now would be to stay quiet and out the way.

You probably got about two hours of sleep before you woke up to Oliver banging on your door, hugging you tight the minute you let him in. “I was so worried!. Are you okay? Like actually okay?.” He asked you. You shook your head, “No I’m not, I couldn’t even sleep. I can’t erase it from my mind. First the psycho at the store and then the killer, it’s like the heavens are against me.” You pouted, tears starting to fill your eyes again.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry this happened to you. I’m here now though and we’re gonna get rid of all that bad juju.” Oliver hummed as he cupped your face before hugging you once more. Oliver proceeded to make breakfast for you and help clean your apartment, cracking jokes and being his usual charismatic self. It definitely brought your mood up and eased your mind. You were lucky to have Oliver.

“Alright I wish a motherfucker would try and bother you today. Ain’t no one surviving with me around!” Oliver said as he began to show off his fighting moves while the two of you walked to the hardware shop. You couldn’t help but to laugh, “Oo super scary, so feisty. People are gonna be too spooked to even look at me.” You amused him as you laughed.

“I know, I know. It’s what I do baby.” Oliver said playfully as he winked at you. Little did you know, someone was watching you. Toji was merely keeping an eye on you to see if you squeaked to anyone about what you saw last night. He was surprised to see you smiling and laughing it up as if nothing happened. He assumed you likely told the guy you were walking with, which wasn’t a smart choice. Toji debated whether he should kill the guy or not.

Truthfully he didn’t know what to do about you either, he knew he should kill you because that was the smart thing to do to save his ass and cover his tracks. However, Toji was too intrigued by you. He didn’t know why, maybe it was how pretty you looked whenever you got scared, or how harmless and clueless you appeared to be. But Toji didn’t have it in him to kill you. Toji continued watching the two of you, fascinated by your relationship. It was obvious you two were close, Toji didn’t know how he felt about that.

It’s not like Toji knew you personally so he didn’t care who you spent your time with, but part of him was irked at how happy this guy seemed to make you. You were dreading your shift today, but at least Oliver was gonna stay with you the whole time that was the bright side. Luckily your manager handled the guy that was on the floor, sent him to the hospital and had the blood cleaned up.

There wasn’t too many customers today which was great for you, you just people watched with Oliver and joked around. His presence was always refreshing. Towards the end of your shift a man walked in. It appeared to be the same scary man from last night, although this time he had his hood off allowing you to see his face in all its glory. Oliver gasped, “That man is hot as fuck!. I thought you said only creeps shop here?” He whispered.

“He is a creep! That’s the head smasher!” You exclaimed to Oliver. “Ohh, you lied then. He is a pussy throbber.” Oliver said, making you pop him and he began to laugh. Toji only showed his face because he wanted to see if you recognized him as the killer from last night. It appeared that you only recognized him as the violent customer you encountered so he was grateful for that.

You had to admit to yourself that the man was very attractive but that didn’t excuse the fact that he was terrifying and violent. “New coworker?” Toji asked, talking about Oliver as he came up to the register. His question caught you off guard, “Uh no..it’s still just me. He’s my friend.” You clarified, although you didn’t know if you should be telling this info to this creepy man. “Mhm, her bestie. Had to come protect my girl, things been a little crazy lately.” Oliver hummed as he shamelessly eyed the man down, embarrassing you.

Toji didn’t pay him any mind at all, his attention solely focused on you. The pretty little mouse that’s been getting in his way lately. Oliver noticed Toji’s predatory stare on you. He cleared his throat, “So uh, what’s your name big guy?” Oliver asked him. “None of your business.” Toji responded deadpanned. “Ouch..anyways, you think my girl is pretty?” Oliver cut to the chase. Your eyes widened, a blush filling your cheeks. “Shut up Oli” You muttered to him.

Toji was getting seriously irked with this ‘my girl’ bullshit. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much but everytime your friend said it Toji wanted to cave his teeth in. “You talk too much.” Was Toji’s only response to Oliver, not answering his question. It made you frown a little bit, not like you cared about the guy’s opinion on your looks but it would’ve been nice to hear.

Oliver rolled his eyes, “Welp, this guy’s a dead end. We’ll try the next sexy man because you need to get them cobwebs off that pus-“ Oliver went on before you quickly slapped your hand over his mouth. You were completely embarrassed now. Toji was highly amused, a small smirk creeping onto his face. “I’m so sorry about him, oh my gosh. He indeed does talk too much..” You said to Toji, your face flushed. Toji thought you looked adorable all embarrassed and shy.

“It’s alright. Although I wouldn’t recommend trying the next man, too many crazy people out here these days.” Toji said, even though he himself was the ‘crazy people’ he spoke off. “That’s true..” you sighed as you were reminded of what you witnessed yesterday. “Can you pass me some cigarettes too?” Toji added to his items. “Ugh, nasty. Definitely glad you dodged that bullet.” Oliver muttered in disgust. Toji’s jaw ticked, he was beyond irked with this kid.

Toji hadn’t even been smoking much recently but he’s been too stressed lately and needed something to take the edge off. “I’ll get them for you.” You said and you attempted to grab the pack he asked for but they were high up in the contained case. “I gotchu.” Toji hummed as he suddenly came behind the counter, standing over you and reaching to grab the cigarettes. “You can’t come behind here-“ You squeaked out but got quiet once feeling his intimidating presence over you.

“So you are like a little mouse.” Toji actually grinned as he looked down at you, after hearing the noise you let out that sounded similar to a squeak. You felt your breath get caught in your throat as you looked up at him, locking eyes with the man. His eyes were so dead, void of anything. Just black pools with no soul. “Your eyes are scary..” You mumbled out without thinking. “That’s a compliment little mouse.” Toji replied as he grinned still.

“You afraid of me?” Toji taunted, his voice low as he leaned closer to you, his nose brushing against yours and his breath fanning against your face. You were trembling, you were terrified to say the least. But something about him was intoxicating. “I-I am..” you managed to breathe out. “Smart girl.” Toji hummed in response. Toji didn’t know why he felt the urge to mess with you but you were just such a treat to his deranged mind. So easily frightened and breakable.

You were so pretty too. Freckles scattered across your perfect brown skin, hair curly and thick and falling over your shoulders, mesmerizing brown eyes filled with so much emotion and life. You were everything that he wasn’t, and he liked that. “What’s your name?” You asked him softly, repeating the same question Oliver had asked him. You were so curious to know now. You doubted he’d tell you but you wanted to take the chance.

Toji was silent. Just staring you down as he contemplated wether or not he should tell you. He wasn’t meant to be known, especially not by an average person like you. But for some reason he wanted you to know his name. Toji moved his mouth towards your ear, his lips brushing against your earlobe and giving you goosebumps. “Toji.” He whispered darkly into your ear, only for you to hear. You felt lightheaded at this point from interacting with this man.

Toji then pulled away and turned around, grabbing the items he purchased and leaving the store. He pulled his hood back over his head as he walked off into the darkness. You were speechless, mind still processing everything. “Well shit, maybe he isn’t a dead end after all.” Oliver spoke up, he watched the whole scene unfold quietly. “He wants youuu, gonna creep under your bed and snatch you up.” Oliver teased with a cackle.

“Hush!” You said as you popped Oliver on his arm, embarrassed. Although the thought that Toji might want you wasn’t so bad, even though he was clearly a walking red flag that you should probably stay far away from. You finished off your shift with no complications this time and you walked home with Oliver. The two of you hugged as he dropped you off at your doorstep.

You sighed and did your usual night routine before you collapsed into bed. While you were sleeping though, Toji had expertly broken into your apartment. He knew he had no reason to be in your home but it was just too easy and too tempting for him. Toji was covered in blood, having killed three people tonight but he made sure not to leave a single smidge of blood inside your tidy home.

Toji stood at your bedroom door, the door wide open. He watched you as you slept peacefully, the slow rise and fall of your chest so fascinating to him. Toji didn’t know why he was so fixated on you but he couldn’t stop himself from stalking you. Part of him figured the reason he was infatuated with you was because you were so regular that you gave him a glimpse of sanity. Toji was very mentally deranged and you were the opposite of that.

You felt that lingering feeling of being watched while you slept and it raised a panic in you but you were too afraid to open your eyes to check and see if the feeling was real or not. Toji tilted his head, a small grin pulling to his lips as he saw your breathing pick up. He was curious to see if you’d actually wake up and attack him. Excitement grew inside him as he awaited a reaction from you. It was like he was a demon feeding off your fear. It was so euphoric for him.

The energy of whoever was watching you overtook the room, making you feel suffocated in their presence as fear consumed you. Tears began to well up behind your closed eyes, clutching your blanket closer to you as tried to pretend sleep like a toddler hiding from a ghost, hoping the creep wouldn’t get you if you continued your act. Toji cooed at the sight, it was truly adorable how naive you were, thinking so lightly of the dangers around you.

It only made him want to mess with you more, addicted to how easily frightened you were. Toji took a few more tentative steps towards the bed, the weight of his footsteps sounding through the hardwood flooring. The sound sent chills down your body, a quiet sob slipping out your mouth before you could stop it. Toji’s keen ears heard it though, a sadistic grin forming on his lips at the cute noise. It satisfied his twisted soul.

“good night little mouse.” his low voice whispered darkly and tauntingly into your room, you felt like your heart stopped in that moment. You immediately recognized the voice, now regretting ever encountering the man who frequented your hardware shop. Toji swiftly exited your apartment after that, he knew by now that you knew it was him. He purposely wanted you to know though, wanting to scare you shitless.

But also, wanting to assert his claim over you. You were his new fixation, his current drug, he still couldn’t fully understand his entrancement with you but all he knew was that you were his now and that you needed to know that too. You felt like you could finally breathe once his presence was gone, letting out a shaky exhale and instantly bursting into full on tears. You didn’t know what else to do but cry, if you were smart you would’ve called the police but instead you called your comfort person again, Oliver.

You incoherently rambled to him about your dire situation, your words all choked up and jumbled from your nonstop tears. He didn’t waste any time coming to your aid, not needing to hear much more. You turned on all the lights inside your apartment as you anxiously waited for Oliver to arrive, the lights providing you some sort of false comfort from the monster that now lingered in your shadows.

The relief that washed over you once Oliver came was immeasurable, he held you and gave you a shoulder to cry on. “That fucking creep. I’ll kill him for you sweetie. I swear.” Oliver huffed, worried sick and filled with rage at the thought of you being in harm. You sniffled and snuggled deeper into Oliver’s embrace, eventually falling asleep from the exhaustion of crying and the distress from being terrified.

You awoke the next morning to the sound of Oliver talking to someone in a hushed manner. You rustled in the bed sluggishly as your heavy eyelids fluttered open slowly. “Oli?” You softly called out in your sleepy voice that was slightly hoarse from your crying. He perked up at the sound, also gaining the attention of the police officer he was currently talking to. “Oh great you’re up! I was just giving this officer the description of creepster.” Oliver said as he came over to you, frowning at the sight of your red puffy eyes.

“Morning ma’am, sorry to hear about the occurrence that took place in your home last night. Your friend has been a great help with all the information he’s provided. I just have one more question, do you happen to know the name of the man that broke into your home?” The officer asked you politely, notepad in one hand and pen in the other, hovering and ready to write. It seemed he’d already written a decent amount on the paper.

You were silent, processing everything still and debating whether to give his name or not. You didn’t know why you were debating it at all, you had no reason to not give up his name, in fact you should be screaming it at the top of your lungs. But for some reason you couldn’t, something in your gut told you not to.

Worries of him coming after you and doing something terrible to you if you revealed his name spooked you too much, and then there was some weird part in your brain that felt like his name held so much power and he told it to you specifically for a reason, almost like a sworn secret between the two of you, or maybe that’s just what your naive mind wanted to believe. “Sweetie?” Oliver interrupted your thoughts softly as he gently grabbed your hand. “Oh, sorry. I don’t know his name.” You finally answered the officer, who let out a soft grunt in disappointment.

“Well that’s okay, I appreciate both of your cooperation, we will get back to you as soon as we get a lead on the guy.” The officer said assertively and politely before he exited your apartment. You could feel Oliver’s stare bore into your head, “You don’t know his name?” He questioned you again. You shook your head, “I don’t. I’m gonna shower.” You changed the subject, getting up and making your way into your bathroom.

At the same time, Toji was lingering around your apartment again, unknowingly to you. He’d been there since early that morning, watching when the police arrived until the moment they left. He’d wondered if his little mouse squeaked on him. Not that it mattered too much if you did, Toji had full confidence he’d never get caught, he was too skilled and experienced. It wasn’t his first time dealing with police and he knew it wasn’t his last.

Now the real problem was your little friend. ‘Always in the way’ Toji thought, irritated with the chatterbox that always seemed to be by your side as your pathetic knight in breakable armor. Toji wanted to kill him, he could already taste the satisfaction that would fill his nerves at the thought of your friend’s blood splattered all over him. He couldn’t act so recklessly at the moment though, and he knew you probably wouldn’t like him so much if he brutally murdered your little sidekick.

Not that Toji cared much about if you liked him or not, but he still couldn’t risk his chances of winning over his cute petrified mouse. You were such a distraction for him lately and you didn’t even know it, he couldn’t get you off his mind for a single second. Always thinking about you, your teary brown eyes, soft chub cheeks, parted plush lips, that innocent fearful look on your face, your shaky breaths and pretty sobs, fuck he was addicted to you and this was just the start of it. His addiction was only gonna get worse until he had all of you completely to himself.

Toji had other business to take care of though than to continue obsessing over you, going on about his tasks for today but he was sure to come back to his little mouse later. “Why did you lie?” Oliver prodded you for answers, following you around the apartment as you cleaned. “I didn’t lie, stop saying that.” You replied, tone agitated as you were growing tired of him accusing you.

“Yes you fucking did. Covering up for that psycho. Are you crazy? They could catch him!” Oliver exclaimed. “I’m not crazy! He could kill me! Did you think about that? Or are you still trying to play captain savior? I don’t know his fucking name so leave it alone!” You finally snapped as you glared at Oliver. He sighed, “I’m sorry..I know you’re going through a lot right now but I just don’t want you to get hurt. But..if you say you don’t know his name then I’ll believe you.” He resigned.

“thank you” you sighed also, “I appreciate you being here for me so much Oliver, it’s understandable that you wanna help as much as possible but there’s only so much we can do.” You said honestly. “You’re right, I just hope that fucking weirdo stays away from now on.” He said while running his fingers through his hair, feeling stressed about the situation as well.

“Wanna eat ice cream and watch romcoms?” He suggested after a moment of silence, you smiled at the offer. “I’d love to.” You happily agreed, plopping down onto the couch and patting the spot beside you signaling Oliver to join, to which he excitedly did. This was great to temporarily clear your mind from the current dark cloud in your life. You called out of work today too, not wanting to take the chance of encountering Toji again and needing a break from that nightmare of a job.

Toji was not happy at all to see an unfamiliar face that wasn’t yours when he entered the hardware shop that night. He was already riled up and this was aggravating him even more. He didn’t even bother to buy anything, ignoring the customer service greeting from the middle aged stout man that now stood behind the counter, Toji just left the store almost as soon as he came in, his feet bringing him to your apartment. He saw that your friend’s car was still parked outside, making his jaw tick in annoyance.

He pulled out his phone and called your number that he gained without your permission, using his sources that made his way of living a much smoother process. You were still on the couch, with a now fast asleep Oliver laid on your lap when you heard your phone ring. Being the ditz you were you didn’t even check the caller ID, just answering the call without a single thought. “Hello?” You greeted. “Tell him to leave.” Toji demanded lowly on the other end of the line.

Your breath caught, goosebumps forming over your skin as fear filled you again for the 4th time this week. “How did you get my number?” You breathed shakily into the phone. “Don’t worry about that. Get your little friend to fucking leave while I’m asking nicely.” He gritted in response. Tears filled your eyes, you were sick of crying now but it seemed that’s all you knew how to do lately.

“No. You need to leave me alone. I didn’t do anything. What do you want from me?” You exasperated, you kept your tone hushed though not wanting to wake Oliver. “I want you. Just you, my pretty prey just for me to play with.” He hummed darkly, his words giving you shivers and shocking you. That’s the last thing you expected to hear and you hated that the untamed part of your brain seemed to like the sound of it. You tried to shake that feeling away though.

“Why me?. I’m nobody. Just leave me alone please.” You pleaded, tears streaming down your cheeks now as you sniffled softly. As much as Toji loved to hear you cry and beg, he was getting annoyed. “Look dollface I really fucking hate repeating myself so here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna kick your boy toy out or I’m gonna let myself in and pour his pulsing bloody guts all over your nice shiny hardwood flooring. You want that sweetheart?” He wasn’t even giving you an ultimatum, he was making a statement that he intended to fully act on.

You gasped in horror, “Y-You’re sick!” You spat in disgust as you began to sob. Oliver had awoken now, instantly getting worried seeing your current state. “Time’s ticking sweetheart. I’m giving you 5 minutes. tick tock tick tock.” He taunted in a haunting manner, instantly raising your anxiety the moment he hung up. “You need to leave!” You blurted to Oliver, your eyes wide in a panic as you literally tried to physically grab him and push him out.

You didn’t even process his words asking ‘are you okay?’ and ‘what happened’, your mind just solely focused on kicking him out before your personal monster came to kill him. “Just leave! I’m okay but please just leave!” You practically screamed at him as you cried. He was baffled as he stared at you in confusion and shock, you looked crazed at the moment and it scared him a little. “Woah..I’ll go..just relax, okay? I’m here for you if you need me just give me a call..” He replied in a calming soft tone that eased you a little but still didn’t stop the racing of your heartbeat that was fueled by fear.

You let out a breath of relief once Oliver finally left but that relief was short lived when Toji creeped into your apartment soon after. He was still covered in all black from head to toe, hood over his head covering most of his face in a dark shadow and blood soaked into his clothing, just barely noticeable due to how well it seeped and blended into the dark shade of black he wore. “You just beat the clock little mouse. Congratulations.” He teased, it was not amusing at all to you nor was it celebratory.

“Aw peach, don’t act so petrified and down, I’m not gonna hurt you.” He cooed, seeing the shell shocked teary eyed scared look on your face. To be honest Toji was thrilled to see your face, it instantly brought him peace for some reason unknown to him. He was so riled up moments ago but now he felt a smidge of sanity and comfort being in your presence. “Y-You’re a liar..you were gonna hurt Oliver.” You managed to mutter out shakily.

“Eh, that’s because I don’t like him. I like you though little bun, more than you know. So I’m not gonna hurt you, unless you want me to.” He said honestly with a smirk that you could see appear on his visible lips. Toji then took his hood off, allowing you to see his face and all its glory, it was truly such a curse that he was actually attractive. You naturally got lost in his features, admiring his looks against your better instincts.

Toji noticed you eating up his looks with your eyes, making a smug grin form on his lips. If he wasn’t a psycho stalker who was obsessed with haunting you, you would’ve swooned at the sight. “You like my face, peaches? It’s all yours if you want.” He teased with a grin. Your face scrunched up in disgust, “Ack, you’re deranged.” You insulted, he only grinned more. “Aw, that’s putting it lightly sweetheart.” He hummed as he sat on your couch, making himself comfortable as he manspreaded.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing, him acting all cozy in your home as if it was his. “You tell the police about me little mouse?. Saw them here early this mornin’, you tryna get rid of me already? The fun just started though bun.” He questioned almost in a mocking tone with false sentiment, faking a pout as he looked at you. You were baffled, “You saw them? Why are you watching me and my house? You fucking creep!” You exclaimed.

He rolled his eyes, “That’s not important. You know you’re terrible at listening and answering questions. I’ll train you well though.” He talked as if he didn’t hear anything you said, completely ignoring your questions. “You won’t be training anything. You need to leave me alone and get the fuck out of my house now!” You demanded as you marched over to him, full of anger, feeling sick and tired of dealing with this.

“Aw, you look so adorable all angry peaches. You really want me to go? make me leave then. Come on, give it your best shot. I won’t fight back I promise.” He taunted with an amused grin. You hated his condescending tone, it was so belittling and made you want to punch him. You knew you wouldn’t stand a chance against him though, but you weren’t about to let him win without at least attempting to fight.

So without a second thought, you charged at him, using all your strength to get him off your couch. He was true to his word and didn’t fight back at all, which it’s not like he had to because you couldn’t get him to budge at all. He was like a boulder, an immovable statue, you attempted to push, pull, drag, and even hit the man, but nothing worked. Toji honestly had to hold back from laughing at your attempts, he had to admit though he admired your spirit and will to put up a fight even though you knew it was fruitless.

It was starting to frustrate you as you grew exhausted from exerting your energy to get him to leave. “You done yet?” He asked you in a bored tone, noticing you getting tired and moving slower. Tears pooled in your eyes once again from the frustration. “I hate you! Just leave me alone!” You sniffled as you glared at him with your teary eyes. “Awe, you know things would be much smoother for you if you didn’t fight against me so much sweetie.” He cooed.

You weren’t trying to hear that bullshit, since fighting him wasn’t working, you were gonna go to desperate lengths. You ran into your kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife you had. Toji perked up, “This is so typical. A knife little mouse is like a needle to me.” he sighed. You blocked out his words, charging for him again but with more spite this time.

He fought back this time, standing up and towering over you, dodging you as you attempted to stab him, no precision in your movements just going for it with the hopes of getting lucky. Your wild movement ended up paying off, because you managed to cut his arm, it wasn’t any serious damage but it felt like a victory to you. “shit.” He muttered. That small pride you had quickly dissipated though when Toji snatched you up.

He ended up pinning you down underneath him onto the floor, gripping your wrists in a painful hold as he held your arms above your head. “My patience is running very fucking thin with you little mouse so I suggest you start acting right unless you want me to show you why you should be very fucking afraid of me.” He stated, his tone serious and menacing as he stared you down, face inches apart from yours.

You were pouting, tears falling from your eyes, breathing heavily from trying to fight him. You felt so trapped in this situation, trapped by him, it was never ending. “Now, drop the knife peaches, while I’m still being nice.” he told you, forewarning you of the consequences you’d face if you didn’t listen to him. You obeyed, dropping the knife and letting it clatter onto the floor. “Good girl, wasn’t so hard was it?” He hummed, looking into your spiteful eyes.

“Are you getting off on this? Stalking me, harassing me, ruining my life? Does it satisfy that fucked up brain of yours? Preying on me like some deranged animal, you’re a monster. I’ll never be yours, not even in your sick perverted dreams. You piece of shit.” You said to him, full of hatred, voice not having any edge to it but full of intent to hurt him. It didn’t hurt him though, it amused him actually. “That was a nice monologue bun, you just came up with that? I’m impressed.” He teased.

“I’ll humor you though. I do get off on it, love seeing those tears in your pretty eyes, hearing you scream and sob in fear, the way you tremble and how your breathing slows down and picks up, how naive and unaware you are, I’m addicted to it. Especially now, you should see yourself right now bun because fuckk…you look so petrified I just wanna eat you alive.” He expressed, leaning close to you and breathing in your scent, exhaling into your neck and making you tremble and whine quietly in fear.

“smell so good little mouse, it’s intoxicating.” He sighed as he pressed himself against you more, you felt helpless underneath him trapped in his hold. “T-Toji..please just leave me be, I won’t tell anyone I promise.” You whined, attempting to plead again. “Fuck, it sounds so good when you say my name like that sweetheart, can you say it again for me?” He was too caught up in your voice, your body, your scent, your presence to even hear your pleas anymore.

His cock was painfully hard in his pants, so turned on by you and your being. You could feel his dick pressing against you as he was positioned between your spread legs, it was making your mind jumbled up, now struggling to focus on the situation at hand. “You feel how hard I am for you peaches?. God, I wanna ruin you so bad. Feel your cute cunt squeezing and pulsating around me.” He practically groaned as he began to rock his hips against yours.

You could barely process what was happening, it was lost on you how you ended up here after just trying to stab this man. But you hated to admit that it felt so good, your pussy betraying you as it throbbed in need and soaked your panties in your wetness. “Look at you, letting a monster, your stalker, dry hump you on the floor, such a dirty pathetic little slut. A little attention to your pussy and you shut the fuck up.” He degraded, you moaned embarrassingly in response, your hips starting to push back against his desperately as you chased an orgasm.

“I-I’m not a slut” you defended yourself as you whined, Toji scoffed. “Yet you’re humping me like a bitch in heat. Are you just a slut for me then? Is that what you’re trying to say peaches?” He spoke directly into your ear, the feeling of his lips and breath against your earlobe sending shivers down your spine. “Never for you!” You managed to spit out despite the pleasure that was currently clouding your mind.

Toji’s jaw ticked at that, “For that Oliver kid then?. I’ll slit his throat you know. Right in front of you. Make you watch as his blood slowly pours from his body.” He threatened, you whimpered shaking your head frantically, not wanting that to happen at all. “Don’t hurt him, please.” You sobbed, Toji just rolled his eyes in response. Despite the horrific convo, your hips never ceased their movement, rocking desperately against Toji’s as you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist.

You felt sick for giving into pleasure from such a monster but you couldn’t stop, it felt too good and there was a part of you that you tried to deny that got off on being afraid of Toji, like some twisted adrenaline rush. “Say that you’re mine then, and I won’t hurt him.” He pressed as he wrapped one of his hands around your throat, squeezing slightly and making you moan.

Toji didn’t know why he was so hooked on you to the point of jealousy, but he had to have you as his or else he’d kill anyone who would even think to take you away from him. “Come on, sweet girl. I know you can say it for me.” He uttered as he rocked his hips harder against yours, his clothed cock bumping against your clit in the most delicious way. With pleasure clouding your mind, you couldn’t even make proper judgement any more, all you wanted to do was cum and appease the man who was able to give you that relief. “I-I’m yours, all yours, please” you cried as you bucked your hips against his feverishly.

Toji’s eyes nearly rolled back hearing you say those words, it satiated him to the fullest. He wasn’t gonna let you take those words back either, from now on you were his officially, whether you liked it or not. “I knew you were a smart girl, all that fight for nothing. You just wanted to give me a hard time, hm?.” He cooed as he squeezed at your throat again, a proud grin on his face. You just nodded and moaned in response, solely focused on the orgasm you were chasing.

Toji moved his grip to your jaw, squishing your cheeks together as he leaned down to kiss you. You wanted to avoid the kiss, you didn’t want to go that far as to kiss your psycho stalker you felt you had a least enough morals for that. Toji of course didn’t care one bit about you trying to move your head, tightening his grip on your face as he pressed his lips messily against yours.

You whimpered at the feeling of his fingers digging painfully into your soft cheeks, he took that opportunity to slide his tongue into your opened mouth. His tongue tangling with yours and exploring the caverns of your mouth, you hated that you moaned into the kiss, your body betraying you.

“I don’t know why you continue to fight me when you know you won’t win. Just accept your fate bun, your soul is now tainted, forever entangled to mine. If you even think you can escape me, forget about it because I’ll always capture you again. My sweet beautiful mouse..made for me.” He spoke in sickly sweet tone as he kissed you in an affectionate manner that made your skin crawl.

You hated how his words seemed like reality, you didn’t want to believe it but it seemed that you were bound to this man now and that you would never be able to get away. That thought alone seemed dreadful and you wanted to erase it from your mind. Toji trailed his kisses down to your chest, roughly pulling down your shirt and bra and starting to kiss and suck at your nipples. Your back arched and you moaned at the attention to your erect nipples, his teeth grazing and biting at them making you whine out his name.

“Fuck, I love it so much when you say my name peaches. In that whiny pathetic voice of yours, makes me crazy, you know?” He groaned against your skin as he continued to push his hips against yours. “Y-you’re already crazy you- ah sick fucking bastard.” You said, your words holding no edge to them due to your moans as Toji tugged at your nipples.

“You like it though, don’t you? That’s why you’re letting me treat you like a dirty whore. You get off on me stalking you bun? Hm? You like that I can hurt you if I wanted to? I could easily kill you right now. Snap your neck, strangle you, stab you, how’d you like me to kill you peaches? I know you’ve imagined it, picturing it vividly while your little clit twitches in need at the visual. You’re the one that’s sick. A whore for a killer, what would your mother think of you?” He provoked, his words bringing tears to your eyes and turning your brain to mush.

You came at that moment, your body trembling as you cried and came in your panties, making a sticky mess. Toji whistled as he watched you fall apart, a grin on his face. “So pretty peaches, love seeing you like this.” Toji muttered in adoration as he watched you cry, he licked up your tears like a sick pervert, groaning in pleasure as he did at the salty taste. He came too, his cum pouring into his jeans in ropes, soaking the black denim. You immediately felt regret and shame afterwards, continuing to cry as reality sank in.

“Awe bun, I’m not so bad really. Cheer up.” He half assed comforted as he squished your puffy cheeks. “I hate you!” You sniffled as you looked up into his eyes. “I know, but that’s just a phase. You’ll get over it.” He dismissed nonchalantly as he got off you, standing up and pulling off his hoodie. You couldn’t help the way your eyes widened seeing his sculpted body in the fitted tank top he wore underneath, ‘why the fuck does he have to be so visually perfect?’ You thought.

You frowned though seeing the bleeding cut you left on his arm, you should still feel happy about successfully hurting the psycho but you were too soft hearted. “Does it hurt?” You asked softly. He scoffed, amused slightly at your question. “Cute. But no, it doesn’t. This is nothing to me sweetheart.” He said honestly. You still felt a tad concerned about the blood running down his arm but you decided to take his word on it that he was fine.

“Clean me up if you feel so bad bun.” He said with a sly grin. “Clean you up?..” you repeated, clueless. Toji pulled you up so that you were on your knees, his hand laid on top of your head as if you were a pet. “Come on, put that tongue to good use. Since you love to mouth off.” He pressed as he pushed your head close to his crotch. You felt so small, so inferior, as he had you in this position and demanded you to do something so nasty and degrading. But that sick part of you did enjoy it and wanted to do it, and you hated that part of you.

You let out a shaky breath before you ran your tongue along the soaked tainted fabric of his jeans. It was so rough against your tongue, you could taste the remnants of his cum along with a metallic taste of blood and you had no clue who or where the blood came from, giving you chills at the thought and the taste making you cringe. You instantly stopped and pulled away, wanting to rid the taste from your mouth as your saliva built up due to you not wanting to swallow.

Toji laughed at the disgusted look on your face, he was laughing at you and that realization made you feel so humiliated and sick. “Aww, such a good pet for me. Doesn’t it taste good, Hm?” He teased as he patted your head as if you were a dog, it made you even more embarrassed and infuriated you. You were pulled back into the reality that this was a sadistic psycho in front of you that you hated with every fiber of your being.

With the anger and humiliation fueling you, you stood up and spit in his face. Satisfactory filling you as you watched the spit run disgustingly down his chin. Toji froze, his eyes closing as he breathed in a slow heavy breath. “How’s that taste?” You retorted back with pride at catching him off guard and gaining the upper hand for just a second. Although you felt fearless at the moment, something about how calm he was made you nervous. The way his soulless green eyes pierced into you, unwavering; left you on edge.

Before you had enough sense to run off, he grabbed you quicker than you could think. His large arms trapping you in a painful chokehold and lifting you off the floor as you kicked and trashed, hands clawing desperately at his arms. Toji just hummed into your ear as you struggled to breathe, choking and gargling over your screams that barely seemed to make it out.

“You did this to yourself you know? if you just were a good little mouse you wouldn’t end up like this. Constantly provoking me knowing I don’t want to hurt you..tch, such a shame.” He spoke in an almost disapproving tone, speaking so calmly as if he wasn’t literally crushing your air supply. “F-Fuck You!” You managed to choke out in response. “Soon.” He hummed before he pressed a soft peck to your temple. You wanted to gag, he truly was sick and deranged.

Toji waited until that moment he felt your fight start to die down and your eyes start to flutter close to let you go, dropping you onto the floor like you were nothing. You went into a coughing fit, caressing your throat as you tried to suck in as much air as possible. “If you play nice, I will too.” He told you, he was being honest but he could tell by now that you were stubborn, so was he though.

You scoffed, wiping your tears as you stood back up “I don’t want to play with you. I’m tired of this shit. I should’ve fucking told the police your name, should’ve told them every fucking thing. Should’ve got rid of your ass.” You ranted as you walked aimlessly around your now messy apartment, walking just to ease your emotions. Toji watched you, wiping your saliva off his face with his tank top as he did.

“Aw bun, you didn’t rat on me to the cops? That’s so sweet, knew I could count of you.” He sweetly said with a fake grin that was mocking. “You can’t get rid of me though sweetie, even the police can’t keep me away. I’ll always find you and trap you, so you might as well get used to me.” He said seriously, dropping the sweet act. You felt like pulling your hair out, this man was actually driving you crazy.

You decided to use your brain for once though and start thinking more rationally about this situation. You knew you couldn’t fight him anymore, you had lost that battle enough and you didn’t know if you’d survive the next time. You knew you couldn’t escape him or get him locked up, so scratch that idea too. You didn’t want to comply to this creep…but it seemed like the only option for now..but if you were gonna do it, you were gonna do it on your terms.

“Alright let’s make a deal.” You offered suddenly after your thinking session. Toji had cleaned and patched up the cut you gave him while you took your time thinking to yourself. His interest was piqued, raising a brow as he looked at you “What kind of deal?” He asked. “About this..companionship? no that’s not it, this hostage situation? yeah that’s better.” You began to ramble. “Get to the point.” He urged you, not having the patience for your antics any longer.

“asshole..” you muttered. “Anyways, I’ll be ‘yours’ or whatever the fuck. But you have to listen to me, no more hurting me physically or making threats to me or anyone close to me, and no more stalking me either.” You stated, arms crossed as you stood in front of Toji who was sat on your couch again. Toji scratched at the faint stubble that was starting to grow on his chin as he considered your offer.

“Hm, seems boring but not bad. I have some terms too though, I have to know all of your whereabouts and who you’re with, I also get to come and stay in your home as I wish, and I get to fuck that tight cunt of yours. How’s that deal sound?” He stated back, declaring his own wishes. You stared at him in disbelief, “sounds like bullshit! You’re not touching me, fucking pervert!” You huffed. “No deal then.” He chuckled as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Why can’t you just compromise with me?. I’m literally giving you what you want.” You sighed, exhausted with the whole situation. “I am compromising, you’re the one still being stubborn. It was your idea to make a deal.” He shrugged. “Also it’s ironic that you’re acting like you’d rather die than have me touch you but it seemed like you were enjoying yourself quite a bit when you were grinding that desperate cunt on my dick.” He reminded you with an amused grin, the reminder filling you with embarrassment all over again.

“It was a moment of weakness…shut up about it. Just agree to the deal, there will be no fucking though. Understand?” You stood on your terms, unwilling to bend to his again and let him win. “No deal.” He replied once again, standing up and grabbing his hoodie. “I’ll be back to see you again bun, hopefully you’ll come to your senses by then.” He grinned and placed a kiss on your forehead before he left your apartment, leaving you standing in your living room speechless.

You took a shower, wanting to wash off any trace of Toji left on your body and wash away your sins. You were spaced out underneath the hot water, the steamed filled bathroom creating a warm blanket on your skin. You had so many thoughts and no thoughts at all at the same time, Toji’s entrance into your life had completely mind fucked you. While you had always wished for something exciting and new to your boring, mundane, routinely life, this was not what you wished for or expected at all to add spark to your life.

You’d like to think that maybe this was all for a reason though, that this all had some purpose even though the purpose seemed pretty fucked up. You turned off your shower and got out, getting wrapped in your fluffy cozy towel and then curling up into a ball onto your bed. You didn’t bother to get dressed as you drifted off to sleep after yet another draining day. Unfortunately though, the man you desperately wanted peace from also plagued your dreams.

“so pretty for me peaches, crying so sweetly while swallowing my cock. You were meant for this, hm? taking my cock down that little throat.” Toji purred as he held your hair in a tight grip, holding your head in place as your nose pressed against his pelvis, his trimmed pubic hairs tickling your face as you gargled around his cock.

Your eyes rolled back, choked moans and whines leaving your drool and precum stuffed mouth as Toji’s booted foot pressed and rubbed against your cunt. The friction pushing you to the edge as you rutted pathetically on his shoe like a cheap desperate whore. “dirty fucking slut, you like being treated like this, don’t you? treated like a braindead bitch, only good for one thing.” He degraded you harshly, thrusting hard into your throat, his balls slapping painfully against your chin.

You tears pooled from your eyes as you let Toji use you as he wished, like his own personal slut made special for him. You’d never admit to liking the treatment you received from Toji, too ashamed of your deep rooted masochism. But that part of yourself that you were in denial about and tried to fight against was the reason you hadn’t fully pushed Toji away yet, he was bringing that side of you to the surface and it scared you.

You woke up from your deep sleep with a whine, rolling and stretching around in your cozy bed. “Sleeping naked and moaning my name in your sleep..” Toji tsked, the sound of his voice making you sit up with a gasp. “It’s like you’re doing this on purpose peaches. You’re lucky I do have some sort of morals, or else I would’ve had my way with you since your unconscious self clearly wants it.” He teased, a grin resting on his scarred lips as he leaned against your doorframe.

“Why are you always fucking around?” You groaned in annoyance, wrapping your blankets closer around your indecent body. “Because I can be, you’re already getting tired of seeing my face bun? That’s a shame, here I thought you wanted to cum on my face because you loved it so much it made your pussy drool just from the sight of it.” He said in faux disappointment while shaking his head.

His words and wittiness never failed to baffle you. “I hate you.” You muttered, repeating those words you felt so deeply. He laughed, “I know sweetie, that’s the best part though. You hating me but being unable to get rid of me, like an annoying piece of gum stuck to your shoe. Although I don’t think you actually hate me that much, you just want to convince yourself of that.” He responded. You just stared at him, “and you said Oliver talked too much..” you mumbled.

“Get out so I can get dressed, I’m tired of your presence.” You told him. “Say please.” He requested immediately, that annoying grin still on his face. You sighed, “Please.” You obliged, no longer having any energy to fight him or argue with him. To your surprise he actually listened and exited the room after you asked politely. You weren’t gonna give him any brownie points though, he was still a psycho that was stalking you.

You freshened up and got dressed in a baggy t-shirt and some leggings, wanting to be comfy since you had no intentions of going out today. You put your coily hair into a puff on top of your head and then walked out your bedroom to find Toji sitting on your couch. He seemed to enjoy being on your couch as he made himself comfortable and even started watching tv. “Don’t you have a job or something? Or your own damn house?” You asked, slightly irritated but choosing to not let his looming presence get to you.

“Aw, finally interested in me bun?. I do have my own house, just prefer being in yours. I guess you could say I have a job if killing people counts as a profession.” He answered casually. You stared at him wide eyed, “That does not count! You’re a murderer!” You exclaimed. “You’re just now catching that?. Sweetie, I knew you were a little slow witted but come on now. You literally saw me kill someone.” He said as he looked at you, watching how your expression turned into one of horror as realization hit you.

“Oh my fucking god! Oh my god! You’re the serial killer Oliver was telling me about!” You couldn’t believe it, even though part of you always knew, the confirmation was terrifying. You felt almost dizzy at the realization that this whole time you were dealing with an actual serial killer, not just some really dangerous mentally unstable stalker. “You really lack awareness skills..I don’t know how you’ve survived until now.” He muttered, genuinely surprised at how clueless you actually were.

“…are you planning to kill me?” You knew by now it was probably stupid to ask, but you didn’t know so you had to make sure. “Little mouse, If I was planning to kill you I would’ve done it the moment I met you. No, I don’t plan on killing you nor do I plan on hurting you.” He told you honestly. You felt a little relief hearing that, “You’ve already hurt me though? My neck is literally bruising.” You stated, calling him out. “In my defense, you pulled a knife on me and tried to stab me.” He said as he held his hands up halfway in an appearance of surrendering.

“Touché” You couldn’t refute his stance since it was valid. You hated how casual conversing with him was becoming though, especially with him being in your house it was all beginning to feel a little too ‘domestic’ but maybe that was his goal to make you get used to him and comfortable with him. You tried to ignore that feeling though, trying to constantly remind yourself of the fact that Toji was a terrible monster.

You went into your kitchen and began to cook breakfast for yourself, well it was just for you until of course Toji made himself known. “smells good, whatcha’ making?” he hummed as he came up behind you, his body towering over you as you stood in front of your stove. It gave you Deja vu to the moment the two of you shared in the hardware store, when he told you his name. The moment that tied you to him. “food.” You responded bluntly.

“Don’t be so mean peaches, it doesn’t suit you.” He said, the soft manner he spoke in currently was too soothing to your ears and you knew it shouldn’t be affecting you the way it did. You sighed, “It’s just eggs, bacon, oatmeal, and biscuits.” you finally answered properly. “Mm, sounds amazing. You making some for me too? you know sharing is caring.” He hummed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning down to comfortably rest his head on your shoulder.

This position felt way too intimate and you hated the way it gave you little flutters in your chest. “Make your own food.” You huffed softly. “I can’t cook.” He responded honestly, which took you aback a little because you weren’t expecting that response. “What do you eat then?” You asked out of curiosity, you just received silence and no answer in response. “When’s the last time you ate?” You questioned as you now turned your head a little to look at him, feeling concerned now.

He just shrugged, “Not too long ago. It slips my mind sometimes.” He said as if it was nothing. “That’s not okay. How do you not remember when you last ate?. You need to eat something.” You frowned, your natural empathetic nature coming out as you actually felt worried about the dangerous man holding you. Toji smiled seeing you worry over him, “You’re so cute bun, all sympathetic for a killer.” He cooed before he pecked your cheek.

You blushed but tried to hide it as you focused your attention back on the stove. “Shut up. I’ll make some extra for you..” you muttered. “Aw, see I knew you liked me bun.” He chuckled as he squeezed you affectionately for a second before letting you go, going to sit at the island to watch you as you continued cooking. You finished cooking pretty fast though, making a plate for yourself and Toji.

Those domestic feelings came back as you handed the plate of food to him, everything just felt too personal and intimate and it was messing with your mind. Toji actually politely thanked you for the food to your surprise, “So you do have some manners.” You remarked as you sat with him and began to eat. “I told you I’m not all that bad peaches, just gotta warm up to me.” He grinned before he started eating as well.

Toji ate as if it was the best meal he’d ever had and it honestly flattered you a lot. “I should marry you, so you can cook for me forever.” He suddenly said as he finished eating. “You’re actually crazy if you think I’d ever marry your ass.” You laughed while shaking your head. “I am crazy though, you know this. You reconsider your little deal yet?” He reminded you. “I’m not changing my stance, you’re not fucking me.” You stood on your terms.

“You just love to be difficult. I bet I could fuck that out of you, make you all pliant and obedient. Turn you into a babbling mess, fucked stupid. When’s the last time you even got fucked, hm?” He asked, genuinely curious. You gasped, “That’s none of your business!. Why must you always be so perverted? Creep.” You avoided the question, feeling flustered from his crude words.

“So I’m gonna take that as an obvious answer that you haven’t been fucked in a long time. You love being in denial, don’t you? You want me so bad, you just don’t want to admit it yourself.” He called you out, you honestly didn’t have any comebacks because he was right despite you not wanting to admit that. “You think you know everything but you’re wrong.” You huffed, wanting to keep your pride even though you knew you’d lost that long ago when you first got caught in Toji’s trap.

“I’m never wrong peaches. You’re just a coward. Always the ever so frightened little mouse, even afraid of your own self. It’s a shame really.” He said while shaking his head in mock disappointment. His words stung, offending you more than you expected them to. The truth did hurt. “I’m not a coward, I fought you didn’t I?. That’s enough evidence that I’m not cowardly. I’m just not a sick fucking pervert like you.” You spat, anger building in your tone due to feeling belittled.

Toji was amused at how easily riled up you got over a few words, he knew he’d hit the nail on the head. “You are just as sick as me though bun, I’m just more open about it than you are. You’re a dirty fucking slut, wanting to be hurt and humiliated by me, treated as if you’re nothing but a flesh toy for pleasure, isn’t that right?. That’s what you were dreaming about earlier weren’t you, love? dreaming about me having my way with you, turning you into my little pet. Oh how I’d love to make your little dream into a reality bun, to mold your cunt into the shape of my cock.”

Toji went on and on, his hand moving to grip your face as he spoke those filthy words that had your pussy pulsating in need. You didn’t want to give in but god did he make it sound so good, your body desperately craved it despite your better instincts telling you no. “Tell me you want it.” Toji uttered lowly against your lips. You felt like you stopped breathing for a second, the world freezing around you as you got lost in the moment with Toji so close to you and persuading you to give into your deepest desires.

You decided to not listen to your incessant back and forth thoughts for once and just allow yourself to make a decision solely on your inner feelings that wanted to desperately to claw out. “I want it..” you breathed out, sealing your fate. Toji didn’t waste a second as he pressed his lips against yours with vigor, grabbing you and pulling you into his arms as he pushed his tongue into your mouth.

He lifted you onto the kitchen countertop, making you gasp as your glass plates fell onto the floor and shattered during the process, Toji not bothering to move them. “The glass!” You tried to point out, your words getting muffled due to Toji kissing you hard and messily. “clean it up later.” He brushed off as he gripped your thighs harshly, trailing his feverish kisses down your neck, dragging his tongue along your neck up to your jawline. It honestly seemed as if Toji genuinely wanted to eat you up.

Toji ripped your shirt, startling you as the fabric tore with ease, you pouted a little as you watched Toji toss it aside since you actually liked that shirt. You couldn’t dwell on that thought for much longer though as Toji began to mark you as his, sucking and biting those pretty red and purple blemishes across the expanse of your body. You whimpered and squirmed every time he bit you, the sting of his teeth digging into your skin and the coating of his saliva afterwards when he’d lick and suck over the forming bruise.

“it hurts” you whined. “good, it should hurt. You deserve it for being such a fucking slut.” He degraded as his hand came down hard to slap your boob, causing you to let out a sob. “You look so pretty like this, covered in my marks, tears filling up those brown eyes. So perfect for me little mouse.” Toji cooed, a complete contrast to his previous tone as he continued to harshly play with your boobs, tugging your nipples and slapping them until you were fully crying.

“Ah, there she goes. My pretty crybaby.” He grinned sadistically as he watched you cry. He smoothed his hands over your now sore boobs as he kissed at your tear streaked cheeks. He was so hot and cold, constantly changing from being cruel and mean to being the slightest bit of sweet and caring, it messed up your head. The switches making you dizzy. Toji removed your panties and leggings, his eyes taking in and admiring every part of your body once you were fully naked underneath him.

Toji wanted to memorize every inch of your body, engrain it and paint it inside his mind. You felt a little self conscious under his intense stare, especially since he was still clothed while you were completely bare in front of him. “stop staring. pervert..” you muttered, embarrassed as you attempted to cover yourself up with your hands. “don’t try to be modest now, move your fucking hands or I’ll cut them off.” He threatened, tone menacing as he stared you down with those dark evil eyes.

You trembled a bit in fear, moving your hands away as your lip quivered due to your tears. Though you were scared shitless, you were so turned on, the fear making your pussy clench around nothing as your arousal started to drip out. “good girl.” He praised, making you swoon for a second because it felt so good to be praised. “look at this cute cunt, weeping to be touched. So fucking wet and I’ve barely touched you. Such a fucking touch deprived whore.” He tsked as he ran his fingers through your soaked folds.

He spread his fingers, admiring the sight of your creamy essence clinging to them. You moaned at the feeling of his rough padded fingers playing with your pussy, your legs subconsciously spreading wider as Toji began to rub circles onto your clit with his thumb. “such a sloppy pussy.” He said as he pushed a finger into your needy cunt, your walls eagerly swallowing up his thick finger.

Your eyes fluttered at the stimulation of Toji’s finger filling you up, you truly were touch starved and sensitive, already getting bliss from the pleasure of his fingers rubbing against your plush walls. You shamelessly rocked your hips onto Toji’s finger, matching the pace of his thrusts as you moaned. Toji almost groaned at the sight of you losing yourself over a single finger.

“Fucking cock hungry whore, just one finger and your pussy is dripping all over my hand. You gonna cum just from my fingers fucking into this useless cunt, hm?” He was relentless as he shoved another finger inside you, curling them just right to make you cry out. His hand came down again, this time slapping your pussy repeatedly. The wet smack smack smack sounding throughout the kitchen as he battered your poor pussy, making you twitch and sob at the agonizing pleasure.

You were so wet, your fluids soaking Toji’s hand and dripping onto your pristine kitchen countertop. Your clit throbbing and pussy clenching each time Toji slapped your cunt, while his fingers pressed against that sweet spot that had your eyes rolling back. “So pretty for me, making a mess of yourself bun.” He sighed in awe as his eyes took in your state.

Your body all marked up in red and purple bruises, tears pouring down your puffy cheeks, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth, legs trembling and toes curling, hair strands falling from that puff on your head, slick coating your thighs and dripping everywhere. Toji was so enamored by the sight that he felt he had to document it, pulling out his phone and pressing record.

“You should see yourself bun, so fucking slutty and pathetic. Fucks sake, I should show this video to the world. Let everyone see just how much of a greedy bitch you are.” He taunted as he captured your filthy state on camera. You whined, shaking your head as you cried. “N-No! please don’t.” You begged as you moaned and cried nonstop. “Awe peach, look at you being so polite and asking so nicely. I’ve already trained you so well.” He spoke in that sweet condescending tone of his as his fingers never ceased their movement inside your wet cunt.

“I could show your little friend Oliver, reveal to him how much of a pain kink whore you are. He’d probably be so disgusted to find out that such a cute dollface like you is just a slut that loves to be treated like worthless pet.” He laughed, his threats were empty ones but he loved how panicked and upset they made you. You cried harder at his words, hands moving to grab the phone from him and throw it aside.

Toji didn’t like that at all, slapping you in the face the moment his phone hit the floor. “Fucking disobedient bitch. What the fuck did I tell you about those hands?” He growled angrily at you, you could barely process his words as you were cumming hard, cunt spasming on Toji’s fingers as you sobbed loudly, face stinging due to the slap. You don’t remember the last time you came that hard, Toji slapping you pushing you over the edge. Your head was buzzing as your creamy climax coated Toji’s hand, seeping through the cracks of his fingers.

“Did I say you could cum?” He asked, glaring down at you as he slapped your thigh, you whimpered. “m’sorry.” You pouted as you looked back up at him, meeting his eyes with your teary ones. “You never fucking listen, just a braindead whore.” He said, tone agitated while shaking his head. “I don’t think you deserve my cock, been an insolent girl with no manners.” He reprimanded, you truly felt like he was scolding you and it made you feel more desperate to please him.

“no no, ‘m so sorry, please please. I’ll be good, I promise.” You pleaded unabashedly as you tugged needily at his pants loops, you wanted him to be inside you so badly you felt as if you’d die if he didn’t fill you up. He had successfully brainwashed you, making you crave him insatiably. Toji smirked as he listened to you beg, his chest swelling with pride at the fact that he got you to this point.

“You’ll be good?. You think you deserve it? I don’t know if your words are good enough.” He teased as he pushed his cum covered fingers into your mouth, making you taste yourself as he shoved his fingers down your throat. You moaned and gagged around his fingers, “I’wll do anyfthing, pwease, I sw’er” you sobbed, words muffled and slurred around Toji’s thick fingers as you continued to beg.

“Aw, you’ll do anything bun? you’ll be mine forever?” He asked as he smiled down at you. You nodded instantly in response, “that’s my girl.” He cooed prior to placing a kiss on your forehead. You felt giddy about the small show of affection, smiling around Toji’s fingers. Toji pulled his fingers from your mouth, undoing his pants and pulling out his hard cock that was dripping precum down the veins of his heavy cock.

You were practically drooling at the sight, hips moving to eagerly push against the tip of his pretty cock that curved a little to the left. “so needy.” He murmured as he tapped the tip of his cock repeatedly on your abused red puffy clit, your back arching slightly at the stimulation to your sensitive clit. “n-need you inside, please” you sniffled as you begged once more. “yeah yeah, I heard you shut the fuck up.” He dismissed as he finally shoved his cock into your hungry walls.

You moaned out, head thrown back as his cock filled you up to the brim. “Fuckk” Toji groaned as he got consumed in your tight cunt squeezing around his cock. “Feeding this cock deprived fucking pussy. shit.” He gritted as he began to pound into you, not waiting for you to adjust to his size at all as he slammed into you mercilessly. You were getting fucked stupid, mouth parted with no sounds coming out, hands holding onto Toji’s shirt and nails clawing at his chest as he fucked you like his life depended on it.

Toji hissed at the sight of his cock bulging in your stomach, pressing his hand down on it to feel the movement of his dick inside you each time he pushed in and out. “You feel that peaches? My fat cock rearranging your guts? Feels so good doesn’t it princess?” His words falling on your deaf ears as your pussy soaked his dick, the squelching sound growing louder with each thrust as your juices dripped down to his balls. “Ah, my little mouse is finally quiet. All it took was some good dick to shut you up.” Toji huffed a laugh as he observed your fucked out state.

He pushed your legs up over his shoulders, folding you up into a mating press as he seemingly began to slam into you harder, the tip his dick battering your cervix and making you let out a scream. Toji loved hearing you scream, his eyes rolling back at the sound as he groaned into your ear. “Sound so fucking pretty ngh fuck— love this slutty pussy, could fuck it all day.” He moaned as he relentlessly pounded you into your countertop, his balls slapping painfully against the cusp of your ass.

“I should fuck a baby into this needy cunt, tie you to me forever. would you like that bun? Hm?” He breathed into your neck, by now Toji was just as blissed out as you were, saying things he’d never usually say but you felt so good wrapped around him and looking so pretty that he felt like he’d risk it all. “m-mhm, w-wan’ ah mm— wan’ it please” you hiccuped out in between whiny moans. Toji kissed your drool slicked lips, moaning into your mouth as he tasted your saliva. He was truly obsessed with every inch of you, wanted to eat you up, mold your body to his. He felt like he was in heaven being inside you.

“so good for me, taste so fucking good sweet girl. You wanna have the child of a serial killer? Gonna be a good momma?” He spoke in between your messy kisses, his ruthless thrusts never ceasing as your pussy swallowed up his cock with each stroke. “yes! yes! I’ll b-be a g-good mhph- momma” You were too cock drunk to register what you were saying, responding instinctively without thinking.

Your mind and body was solely focused on the drag of Toji’s cock against your walls, his rough hands gripping you and leaving his handprints in addition to your already beautifully marked up form, his breath ghosting your skin, his lips slotted perfectly against yours, his dark sweaty hair that fell over his green eyes, the scar across his lips that seemed mesmerizing every time he moaned and grunted in pleasure. He looked like a wet dream, better than any of the ones you’ve had.

You were a babbling mess as you felt your orgasm build up intensely, back arching as you wailed in deep pleasure “m’ hah- m’gonna-“ you could barely get the words out as your body trembled, pussy clenching and spasming around Toji’s cock. “Do it whore, be a good little bitch and cum all over my cock.” He grunted as he brought attention to your clit, drawing figure 8’s into it and slapping it as your pussy gushed around his cock.

You sobbed, screaming once more as you came hard, squirting and making a mess all over Toji’s lower abdomen and your kitchen countertop. Your whole body shook as you climaxed, it was the most intense orgasm you’d ever had. “there it is, good fucking girl.” He praised as he continued fucking you through your orgasm, his pace unrelenting. You were completely fucked out, body practically going limp as you whined in overstimulation.

It was honestly amazing to you how Toji still had so much energy, pounding into you just as hard and fast as he was when he started, if not harder as he chased his own climax. “you’re so perfect like this, my personal cum dump. Pliant and breedable just for me.” He panted, his balls growing heavy as he neared his orgasm. He was lost in the easy glide of his cock in your sloppy cum soaked cunt, the white ring around the base of his cock and the way more slick gushed out of you with each thrust was enthralling to him.

He couldn’t look away from the sight, along with the way his cock bulged so prominently in your cute tummy and how your pussy throbbed around his cock as if it was begging to be filled with his cum, it sent him over the edge. Toji let out a guttural groan as he came hard, pouring thick white ropes of cum into your spent cunt. “oh fuck-“ he moaned as his thrusts slowed, his hips still moving as he fucked his cum into you. You were just a whiny whimpering mess, eyes closed as you laid there and let Toji use you.

Toji finally let your sore legs drop from his shoulders as he came down from his high. He pulled out slowly, his low eyes watching intently as globs of his cum poured out from your pretty cunt. “You still with me, bun?” He asked you as he ran his fingers through your sensitive folds, pushing his cum back into you with his fingers. “m-mhm” you hummed in response as you trembled slightly in oversensitivity. “s’ too much.” You whined as you weakly tried to push away Toji’s hand.

“shh, it’s okay little mouse. jus’ gotta make sure this cum stays inside this sweet cunt.” He coaxed as he continued his ministrations. You shook your head, letting out a soft sob as another orgasm hit you suddenly. You were way too sensitive and the moment Toji’s fingers hit that spot you fell apart instantly. “Awe bun, you’re so sensitive, cumming so quickly.” He laughed as he found you adorable. He decided to stop torturing you though as he pulled his fingers out, putting them into his mouth and licking the mixture of your fluids off of them.

Toji then picked you up, carrying you to the bathroom as you slumped against him. You still had half the right mind to think that you probably shouldn’t trust Toji at all while in your current vulnerable state but you had already gone this far so you felt you had no choice but to go along. To your surprise, Toji started a shower for the both of you. He actually cleaned you up with care, contrasting to how roughly he treated you as he fucked your brains out.

He even put your bonnet on your head for you before the two of you fell asleep. All this domesticity was jarring to you for a multitude of reasons, but you were currently too exhausted to confront it so you decided to leave it for the morning. Unfortunately for you, your sleep got interrupted by knocking at your door around 4 in the morning. You groaned in annoyance as you tossed and turned a bit.

“sweetie! It’s me! I just really wanted to check up on you after last time!” You heard Oliver’s faint voice call out from outside your apartment door, it made you open your eyes once you registered his voice. You sat up, only to get pulled back down by a groggy Toji who had been sleeping next to you. “leave him.” Toji muttered half asleep. You blinked a few times to process if all of this was real or not.

All you could think was ‘how the fuck did I get here?’ even though you knew the events that brought you to this point you were still baffled. “he’s worried so I can’t just leave him, I’ll talk to him and tell him to go.” You told Toji prior to getting up again, he let you go this time. You grabbed the first clothing item closest to you to cover up your naked body and it just so happened to be Toji’s hoodie. It draped over you like a warm blanket.

You walked to your front door, opening it only slightly to talk to Oliver. “Oh my god, I know it’s really late but I was worried sick so I had to come see you. Are you okay?” He asked you in that concerned tone of his, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you. “yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry I snapped on you last time, that was uncalled for. I was just…stressed you know.” You apologized and reassured him.

He sighed in relief, “I’m just glad you’re okay. That creepster hasn’t come to bother you again has he?” He checked in. You chewed at your bottom lip as you contemplated your answer, “no, he hasn’t surprisingly.” You lied smoothly. Oliver raised a brow as he sensed something off about you, “…you do know I can always tell when you’re lying, right?” He stated.

“Did he hurt you? threaten you? what happened? you don’t need to cover for that asshole. He needs to pay for messing with you!” He expressed in deep concern. “Oliver! It is okay, nothing has happened and honestly you shouldn’t be involved. This is my problem and I’m dealing with it.” You tried to brush it off, you just didn’t want Oliver to get hurt due to your situation. “Dealing with it how?” He questioned you.

You opened your mouth to answer but got cut off by Toji butting in. “Y’all done talking about bullshit yet? I’m tryna sleep.” His agitated voice spoke from your bedroom. Oliver’s eyes widened, “He’s in your house?! What the fuck is going on?!” He exclaimed as he pushed the door open fully to see you. His jaw dropped seeing you dressed in Toji’s hoodie along with the fresh bruises and marks that covered your body. “You-…what did you do?” He asked in disbelief.

“Oliver..you should leave.” You told him as you look away from him, staring at the wall as shame filled you. “No! I’m not going, he needs to fucking go. That bastard ruined you!” He yelled as he grew angry with the situation. “I was already ruined! Just go! it’s for the best that you just go, I know you want answers but I don’t have them for you right now..please just go. I’ll tell you everything eventually, I promise.” You expressed genuinely as tears began to fill your eyes.

Oliver was speechless. “this was not how this was supposed to go…I-..I should’ve never let you lie to that officer.” He scoffed as he slowly eased his way out of your apartment. You didn’t have much more to say to him either at the moment, “bye oli..” you said softly before you closed the door on him. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you needed to release as you let everything settle in. “he’s really upset with me..” you frowned as you came back into your room to Toji.

“He’ll get over it.” He dismissed with a shrug as he pulled you into his arms. You still felt terrible about it since Oliver was your bestfriend but you hoped that you’d be able to make amends. You fell back asleep with Toji once you relaxed again but it seemed as if dreamland didn’t want you because you got woken up again but by something much worse.

Bright helicopter lights flowed through your window and police car lights emanated outside. “Come out with your hands up! You are under arrest!” an authoritative voice blared over a loud speaker, causing you and Toji to jump up. “shit!” Toji swore as he ran his fingers through his hair. “well bun, looks like I let my guard down for you a little too much.” He chuckled half heartedly.

He seemed so nonchalant about this predicament but you were panicked, screaming when a swat team broke down your front door and burst in. “shh, it’s okay, relax.” He comforted you as he held you and gently rubbed your back, you began to cry as you held onto him tightly. “Step away from the lady! We have a warrant for your arrest!” One officer shouted as they crowded into your bedroom with flashlights and guns pointed at the two of you.

Toji’s jaw ticked in annoyance, “You’re scaring her.” He stated as he held your shaking form tighter. As much as he loved seeing you terrified, he only enjoyed it when he was the cause of it. “Step away and put your hands up! Or we will be forced to use excessive force!” The officer demanded, ignoring Toji’s comment.

He sighed, “I gotta go bun..but I’ll be back to see you, I promise.” He whispered to you softly and placed a kiss on your temple before he let you go and surrendered himself to the police. You cried as you watched them handcuff Toji, you knew Oliver was the one who told them about Toji’s whereabouts. You never thought you’d cry and feel a little heartbroken over Toji being captured since he deserved it, but it stung your fragile heart.

“Don’t cry little mouse. Remember what I said?. You can’t escape me, I’ll always come find you. You’re mine forever.” He had that familiar sadistic grin of his on his face as he spoke, getting roughly pulled out by the swat team once he finished his last words. You’d hoped deep inside that those words rung true.

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simplyholl · 10 months ago

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Truly Desperate

Summary: When you can’t get off, you go to your enemy on the team for help.

Pairing: Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

See my Masterlist Here

Why did you have the worst luck out of everyone in the world? You had such a great start to your day. Your date had went so well, you invited him back to your room at the Avengers’ Compound. You hadn’t slept with anyone in months. He was so handsome, just your type. Dark, curly hair with light eyes, you were instantly drawn to him when you met him.

Things took a wrong turn as soon as you shut the door behind you. He made himself comfortable on your bed while you went to freshen up. You picked out your favorite black, lacy lingerie set covering it with a silky robe. Then someone pounded on your door loud enough to wake the dead.

“Lady Y/N! Come quickly, I need assistance.” Thor’s voice boomed from the hallway. You apologized to your date, and answered the door. “This better be life threatening.” You whisper, shutting the door behind you. He looks at you sheepishly, hiding something behind his back. “Never mind, I will find someone else...”

You reach behind him, revealing a jar of peanut butter. “What’s this?” You ask, getting madder by the second. “I need help opening this most delicious of treats, and everyone else is gone or asleep.” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath before you do something drastic like choke him.

“You can’t open this?” You point to the small jar in his hands. He shakes his head no. You grab it, twisting the lid. It pops off so easily, you’re sure he didn’t even try. Without a word, you turn around, entering your room again. “I’m so sorry.” You apologize to your date, as he interrupts you. “Was that Thor? He’s my favorite! This is so cool!”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll show you why I should be your favorite Avenger.” You quip, pushing him on his back. Loud banging on your door interrupts you once more. You jump up, flinging the door open. “Thor I will shove that jar down your throat if you interrupt me again!” You shout, expecting to see him. Instead you’re met with Loki, smirking as leans against your doorframe. “Always so violent.” He shakes his head.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have an urgent mission. Stark says you and I are to go immediately.” He looks down at your barely dressed body. “Like what you see, perv?” You smack his arm. Loki is your least favorite on the team. He’s always arguing with you over the smallest stuff. He ruined your birthday this year by hiring geriatric strippers. He ate the last cookie from your favorite bakery without asking. He always insulted your choice on movie night. Tony liked to pair you together so he could laugh about it later. So it shouldn’t be a surprise that he was the one standing here.

You want to scream. Of course, some bad guy is hell bent on destroying the world when you are in desperate need of some dick. “Alright, just let me change before we go.” You turn back towards your room, Loki grabs your wrist. “There’s no time. We must hurry.” You look apologetically at your date who is awe struck from seeing Loki. “It’s okay, I understand.” He says as he walks around the two of you to leave.

You follow Loki to the Helicarrier, cursing under your breath. When you arrive, no one is there to brief you. Usually Tony or Steve will meet you there before your mission to tell you what to expect. You look at Loki confused. “Where’s Tony?” You ask, placing your hand on your silk covered hips. “About that…” Loki starts. “Are you serious? You ruined my date for nothing?” You push passed him, to the doorway to type in the code to leave.

His obscenely large, veiny hand blocks the keypad. You’ve never noticed how long his fingers were until now. What would they feel like inside you? They could probably reach spots that the men you’ve slept with couldn’t reach with their dicks. Where did that come from?! You need to stop thinking about Loki’s hands right now. The guy is an asshole who always torments you. Not to mention, he just cockblocked you.

“I saved you.” Loki tells you, smiling as if you should thank him. “Saved me? Loki, if that guy tried anything, I could’ve kicked his ass faster than I could have called for help.” Loki shakes his head, “He went out with Natasha last week. You saw how excited he looked to be near me, and I am America’s least favorite Avenger. You weren’t special. He was using you.”

You look at him incredulously. “Loki, I don’t need some random man to make me feel special. I just wanted to have meaningless sex with a hot guy.” He finally lets you type in the code, following you out as the doors open. “I could help you with that.” His blue eyes hungrily trace every curve your little robe accentuates.

You laugh, “No offense, but we don’t even like each other.” “Exactly my point, darling. It would be the very definition of meaningless.” You consider his offer. It has been a long time since a man got you off. But, he just sent the one date you had that seemed normal away to protect you. It was so unlike him. “No thanks, I’ll just stick with my vibrator.” You turn around to stick your tongue out at him, before sprinting ahead of him back to your room.

You open your bedside drawer, holding your vibrator in your hand. You were so worked up, you could probably get off from just looking at it. But, you go through the motions anyway. You close your eyes as you dip your hand under your bra to play with one of your nipples. You let your imagination run wild. It’s not you rolling your nipples, but your date. His dark hair fans across your chest as he takes one between his lips.

You pull your panties down, putting the vibrator in place. It whirls to life, as you imagine him kissing down your stomach to between your legs. He gently bites the inside of your thigh. “Loki!” You moan as the man looks up at you. Instead of your date, it’s Loki smirking at you knowingly. You jump, throwing your vibrator across the room. It hits the wall with a loud thud. What’s the matter with you? Your date was so hot and you were imagining Loki?

You went to retrieve your toy, turning it back on. It buzzed for a brief second before twirling one last time. Come on! You press all the buttons, hoping for a miracle. It’s no use, you broke it when you threw it. You lay back on your bed, having to resort back to medieval times when women had to use their hands to get off.

You close your eyes again, trying to picture your date. Instead Loki’s hands on the keypad, forever ingrained in your memory, appear. You groan, frustrated beyond belief. If thinking about a coworker was going to help you get off, there were plenty to choose from. You imagine Bucky choking you with his metal arm as you work your fingers, but you feel nothing. Steve on his knees for you - nothing. Bruce fucking you on top of all his paperwork? Nope. Boning Tony midair in the Iron Man suit? Nothing. Sam taking you against the wall - not even a stir. Thor and his hammer - dry as the desert.

You stop, your hand will get a cramp and it will all be for nothing. “I could help you with that.” You imitate Loki in a mocking voice. You pull your panties up, and slip your robe back on. Your feet seem to have a mind of their own as they carry you out of your room, down the long hallway to Loki’s room.

You knock quickly, hoping he will open the door before someone sees you out here. He opens it, leaving no room between himself and the door. You try to push passed him, but he stops you. “What’s this about?” You want to smack the smirk right off his face. You look around the deserted hallway praying Thor was right about everyone being out or asleep.

“Let me in before someone sees us.” You plead, walking into his solid body once more. “My sweet girl, you must be truly desperate to come to me. I thought you were going to be satisfied with your silicone cock. Isn’t that what you said when you left me behind earlier?” You roll your eyes. He really was insufferable.

“It broke.” You motion to his doorway, but he doesn’t budge. “I knew you would give in. You couldn’t stop thinking about me could you? I saw you drooling over my hands back there.” You place a hand on your forehead, letting out the biggest sigh. “Loki, can we please talk inside?” You look around again just to make sure no one was watching. “What’s the rush, little one? We have all night.” You hear one of the doors creak open down the hall, Sam walks towards you with his head down.

He makes eye contact as he gets closer. “Just borrowing a phone charger.” You lie, pulling your revealing robe closed. Sam looks between you and Loki, smiling as the realization hits. “I didn’t see shit and I don’t know shit.” He says, laughing as he walks to the elevator. “Loki, let me in. Sam saw us, isn’t that enough?”

“I need you to do one thing for me before I let you come in.” You think about leaving right now, but you’re too horny. You have to get off, and Loki is hot, even though you would never admit that to him. “Beg for it.” “Right here?” You shake your head, he’s unbelievable. You really should leave, but you had heard stories from the people that stayed the night with him. They would come into the kitchen with just fucked hair to make coffee before leaving. You were an early riser, so unfortunately you ran into most of them.

They all gushed about how good he was in bed. You really needed this. So you clasped your hands together, looking him in the eyes as you beg him. “Please Loki, give me that godly Asgardian dick?” You fight the laughter bubbling in the back of your throat as you say the silly words. Satisfied, he finally moves out of the way. You rush inside, sitting on his bed.

“I think we should have rules.” You tell him as he saunters toward you. “Like what? You Midgardians complicate everything, even sex.” “Well I don’t think we should kiss for starters.” You start to pace in front of his bed, suddenly feeling nervous. “We should undress ourselves. And you can’t cum inside me.”

Loki smiles, “Afraid you’ll fall in love with me?” You laugh at his audacity. “No I’m afraid you’ll fall in love with me. Guys get obsessed once they’ve had a taste.” He rolls his eyes at that. “I don’t even like you. Besides, I’ve never been in love in 1,054 years. It won’t happen now.” He starts shedding his clothes as you loosen the tie on your robe. You both pile your clothes together in the floor until there’s nothing left.

“This means nothing.” You stick your pinky out for him to seal the deal with a pinky promise. “Couldn’t agree more.” His finger locks with yours briefly. He picks you up, pinning you against the wall. His head dips as his sharp teeth nip along your neck. Your hands travel the length of his muscular back. All that nonsense in the hall was worth it, even if this was all you got.

Loki continues biting a trail from your collarbone to your jaw, earning a whimper from you. Your legs feel like jelly and he hadn’t really done anything. His skilled hands find your breasts, cupping them as his thumbs roll against your nipples. You gently kiss his chest, feeling his toned stomach against your soft skin. You lick his nipple, causing him to moan against your neck.

He stops to carry you back to his bed, placing you at the top. He follows, crawling between your legs. He shoots you a wicked smile that makes you feel like you’re about to be eaten alive. Loki drags his tongue up your soaked center. The heat of his mouth as his firm, velvet tongue swirls around you sends your head spinning. Silver tongue? More like magic tongue.

Every movement is designed to drive you crazy. Every flick makes your legs shake. His head rocks between your thighs, messy curls shaking as he traces your clit with the tip of his tongue. He strokes you with his talented muscle, working you into a frenzy. Needy moans of his name mix with the wet sound of him drinking you down. His lips suction around your clit, you pull his curls, needing him closer. He whimpers, the vibration from his voice along with the perfect pressure of his lips send you spiraling. He lets you ride out your orgasm, before lining himself up between your legs.

Loki sinks into you and you curse yourself for not doing this sooner. It’s like he was made for you. You’re entranced with every thrust. He really does have a godly dick and he was showing you he knows exactly how to use it. One hand caresses your cheek, “Did you think about how my cock would feel inside you while you used your pathetic toy?” You whine as he snaps his hips, hitting deeper.

Your nipples brush against his hard chest, you wrap your legs tighter around him. You love how strong he is, how big he feels compared to you. He could crush you with one hand if he wanted to. His forehead connects with yours, and he looks down at you trembling with pleasure underneath him. His lips curl in cocky satisfaction. His eyes lock onto yours, watching intensely as he fucks into you. You’re suddenly afraid he’s going to kiss you, so you turn your head.

His mouth latches onto your exposed neck, sucking hard enough to bruise, claiming you. You buck your hips against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. Suddenly he stops, flipping you over so that you’re on top. His hands dig into your hips as he lifts you up and down on him. The new angle hits spots you didn’t even know you had. You move your hips faster, as he fucks you, matching his rhythm.

“I’m close.” He warns you, giving you time to get off of him. You lay on the bed, mouth opened wide as he strokes himself over you. His hot cum lands on your tongue, chin, and breasts. You swallow what lands in your mouth. Loki watches in awe, running a long finger over your chest, gathering a good portion before bringing it to your lips. You swirl your tongue around him, loving the salty, sweet taste of him. He continues the process until you’re mostly clean.

“Would you like to watch a film?” He asks as you use one of his towels to clean what he couldn’t off you. “No, Loki. I don’t even like you.” You state matter of factly, wrapping your silk robe around you before leaving. You run into Thor in the hall, walking fast so he wouldn’t notice you leaving Loki’s room. Loki walks out, greeting Thor. “Do you have what you promised?” Thor asks, watching to make sure you went inside your room. Loki hands him a bag of chocolates, “Thank you, brother for interrupting her date earlier.” Thor rips the bag open, putting six chocolates in his mouth at once. “I hope your interference was worth it.” Thor says between bites. “Indeed, it was.”

Tags

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kkanabel · 2 months ago

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drunken confessions ✫ chapter i

curly x reader

summary: Curly is the designated driver for tonight, so he’s helping you as you vomit your guts out because you pushed yourself too hard with the liquor. He knows you don’t like him the same way he does—right? At least he thinks so before you confess to him that you think about cuddling with him after sex.

directory/m.list next chapter ⇨

words: ~4k

t/w: alcohol overuse/abuse, vomiting, friends with benefits (not yet, but next chapter?), mutual(?) pining, confused!curly, hookup culture, slim jim exists, mentions of sex, gn!pronouns for reader (mostly, i think. if i fucked up somewhere, pls let me know), curly tiddies, no yucky yet :>

a/n: more self-indulgent shi

All you could feel was the burn of alcohol tearing through your stomach and throat, the sickening churn rising up in seemingly never ending waves. Every retch was like an eruption clawing its way out of you. Your knees dug into the grimy bathroom tile, cold and unforgiving beneath your trembling legs, while your head hovered just inches from the stained toilet. The acrid stench of stale piss mingled with the sour tang of alcohol-induced vomit in the air, but you were too far gone to care.

You gasped, desperate for a shred of relief, but all it brought was another violent heave, your body convulsing as the acidic mix of stomach bile and alcohol forced its way up. The taste coated your tongue, sharp and bitter, burning with every ragged cough. Tears streamed freely down your cheeks, blurring your vision until the world was nothing but smudges of color, swirling and shifting in a drunken haze.

The bathroom spun, walls tilting at angles that didn’t make sense. You closed your eyes, but the movement didn’t stop—it only grew worse, as if your head was spinning further and further from your body. Somewhere, distantly, you registered the heavy thud of footsteps approaching.

A shadow loomed in your periphery, tall and broad. You blinked, your vision swimming as the figure crouched beside you. A low chuckle and sigh cut through the haze, followed by a sigh. A warm, solid hand brushed your damp hair out of your face, careful and deliberate, though some strands clung stubbornly to your sweat-slicked skin. The hand was persistent in grabbing all of the strands of hair, still, and you felt those strands slowly dragging away from your face, tickling your cheek.

“Mmm, he smells good,” you slurred, the words bubbling out before your mind could catch up.

The figure let out a short laugh, his voice low and rich with an edge of exasperation. “Thanks, I guess,” he muttered, his hands working deftly to gather your hair. A scrunchie appeared—when had he grabbed that?—and his fingers moved with surprising precision, tying your hair back with a tenderness that made your head swim for entirely different reasons. The feeling of it mixing with the dizziness in your mind made you want to retch more.

You focused on the feeling of his hands, big and rough-looking but impossibly gentle and warm as they worked. It was easier to concentrate on that than the relentless nausea still clawing at your insides. For a moment, your head lolled forward, and your gaze landed on the thighs crouched inches from you.

Thick, solid, and muscled, the fabric of his pants stretched taut across them as he balanced on his heels. Nice legs, your drunken mind noted appreciatively. Such good legs. You nearly drooled at the thought, the alcohol-fueled haze exaggerating everything—the sheer size of him, the warmth radiating from his body, the confidence in the way he held himself, the relaxing scent emitting from him. No, it wasn’t the alcohol. He’s always like this.

You wiped away the saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth when you realized you were actually drooling.

“Drink,” he said firmly, pressing something cool and smooth into your hand. You blinked sluggishly, your gaze trailing up his body as if it took every ounce of effort to move your eyes. Slowly, his face came into focus—familiar blonde waves framing a sharp jawline, his blue eyes laced with concern and faint amusement.

“Come on,” he urged, uncapping the water bottle for you and tilting it toward your lips. “Small sips. You’ll feel better.”

The room still swayed, but his voice was steady, grounding you as you forced yourself to take a cautious sip. The water hit your throat, soothing and alien after the harsh burn of alcohol and bile. For the first time in what felt like hours, your chest didn’t feel like it was on fire.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice softening as he settled beside you, his muscled arm brushing against yours. “Just breathe.”

You tried, but the alcohol still coursed through your system, muddling your senses and making everything feel heavy and slow. But despite the fog, his presence felt solid and safe.

You’d come to this party with Curly, Daisuke, and Anya, the agreement being that he’d take the role of designated driver. While the rest of you had steadily climbed the ladder of intoxication, he hadn’t had a single drink. Someone needed to be sober enough to herd the chaos, after all. But now, Anya—with her kind words and nurturing personality—had decided to crash here, swept up in the hospitality of her friends who were hosting the party. And Daisuke? He was half a step away from disappearing into a shadowy corner with someone you doubted he even knew the name of. That left you, a person switching between vomiting into a piss-stained toilet and clutching a water bottle as though it were a lifeline, and Curly, who had assumed the unfortunate role of babysitter.

You sat upright now, leaning heavily against the toilet as though the cold ceramic could anchor you. The spinning world tilted on an axis only you could feel. Your stomach still churned, threatening to revolt, but you’d managed to hold it down—for now. The bathroom lights seemed far too bright, stabbing through your blurred vision like tiny daggers, and everything smelled like disinfectant, vomit, sweat, and regret.

Curly was crouched in front of the cabinet beneath the sink, rummaging through its contents with quiet determination. His broad back and shoulders flexed under his blue zip-up jacket as he reached toward the very back, his movements deliberate. When he straightened, you caught the glint of victory in his blue eyes as he pulled out a half-full bottle.

He twisted the cap open with a practiced motion, pouring a measure of liquid into the cap. “Mouthwash,” he explained, handing it to you with the calm patience of someone trying to appease a feral animal.

You took it, your sluggish brain processing his words only after the cap was already halfway to your mouth. The sharp, minty taste hit your tongue like a wall, and your throat reflexively tightened mid-swallow. Oh, right—not a shot. You blinked, cheeks puffing out as you swished it around. The world seemed to swish along with it, the slow, nauseating spin threatening to pull you under again.

When you finally managed to spit it out into the sink, the lingering taste of bile was blessedly gone, replaced by the cool, almost medicinal mint. Relief washed over you in waves as you leaned heavily against the grimy counter. Curly stood only a foot away, leaning against the door while watching you with that infuriating mixture of concern and amusement.

You turned your bleary gaze up to him, chest warming with something that wasn’t entirely alcohol-induced. “You’re suuuch a good man,” you slurred, a lopsided grin spreading across your heated face. His expression shifted—a flicker of something you couldn’t quite catch mostly because you were trying not to fall—but he smiled back, soft and faintly melancholic.

And heavens, what a smile. The sight of it seemed to still the swirling chaos in your head. You frowned, your drunken mind scrambling for the words. “S-So,” you stammered, leaning closer, “Soooo prettyyy.”

Curly froze, his brows knitting together as he tilted his head. “What?” he asked, his voice edged with confusion and something else, like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you right.

You nodded sagely, or at least as close to it as your impaired motor skills allowed. “Pretty,” you mumbled again, gesturing vaguely toward his face. You huffed when you realized that the word your mind had come up with first wasn’t nearly enough to describe him.

He blinked at you, lips parting in disbelief before pressing into a thin line. “You’re drunk,” he stated flatly, though the tips of his ears gave him away. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here.”

Before you could respond Curly bent down, slipping your arm around his shoulder, his strong hands steadying you as he lifted you to your feet. The room seemed to tilt violently, and you stumbled, only to find yourself braced against his solid frame.

The walk to the exit was a blur of sensations. The muffled bass of the music reverberated through the walls, shaking your chest with every beat. Multicolored lights danced erratically across the room, spilling over the crowd like liquid fire. Laughter, shouting, and the occasional drunken stumble filled the air, the party now a surreal kaleidoscope of noise and motion.

Curly called out to Daisuke in the corner, who was mid-face eating. “Daisuke! Stay safe! Protection!” He said, simply, as he helped you walk.

You heard a faint and slurred “Okayy, dad!”

But none of that held your attention. Your gaze dropped—your head still woozy—and landed squarely on his chest. The thick cotton of his shirt clung to him in places, the outline of his pecs impossibly defined. Broad and firm, the kind of chest that told you he spent serious time lifting heavy things and didn’t cut corners about it. Your lips parted slightly as you stared, your hazed brain hyper-focused on the rise and fall of his breathing.

“I wanna biiiiite,” you declared suddenly, the words drawn out in a sing-song slur.

Curly stopped mid-step, glancing down at you with wide, incredulous eyes. “You wanna… what?”

“Bite,” you repeated, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, still staring at his chest.

He frowned, clearly trying to piece together your drunken logic. “Bite what?” he asked, his voice teetering between confusion and sheer disbelief.

You simply smiled, too intoxicated to elaborate further, and rested your head against his shoulder, murmuring something incoherent as you took in a deep breath of his scent. He didn’t seem to mind that you were blatantly sniffing him—especially because he was more focused on making sure that you didn’t collapse altogether and then melt into the floor. He grimaces at the memory of you collapsing onto the ground and refusing to move from your spot until he joined you.

His grip on your arm was firm but careful, guiding you through the dimly lit house. The party noise faded behind you, leaving just the steady rhythm of your uneven steps.

He frowned at your heels as he thought about earlier that evening, when he’d picked you up from your apartment.

When the door swung open, he froze in place. You were quite the view—your outfit hugged every curve, the fabric shimmering faintly under the light. Glittery flecks adorned your cheekbones and eyelids, catching the dim hallway glow and refracting it like a halo around your face.

An angel. That’s what you looked like. Like some celestial being who had descended to earth, radiant and untouchable.

“Hey!” you chirped, grabbing your bag and stepping past him to lock the door. “Ready to go?”

He nodded stiffly, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets to stop himself from fidgeting. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice coming out far too casual for the way his heart thundered in his chest.

Sliding into the passenger seat of his car, you adjusted your dress, the hem riding up just enough to draw Curly’s gaze to the expanse of your thighs before he snapped his eyes forward, jaw tightening. He gripped the steering wheel as though it were the only thing keeping him grounded, hyper-aware of your presence beside him.

“Thanks for driving, Curly,” you said as you buckled your seatbelt, flashing him a soft smile that nearly undid him.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice coming out too casual, too even, for the way his pulse pounded in his ears. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to stare straight ahead. He needed to focus on the road, not on the faint shimmer of glitter on your skin, catching the light of passing streetlamps like you were made of stardust.

And definitely not on the fact that you were driving him insane just by existing. He needed to hurry and pick up Daisuke and Anya before he’d go crazy from being alone with you for too long.

You were always like this—effortlessly stunning, warm, and kind. The kind of person who could brighten even his worst days. Sure, you complimented him sometimes, but he couldn’t help but think you didn’t mean it the way he wanted you to. Every compliment you gave him only deepened the ache in his chest.

Like that one time you’d glanced at his lap while he was driving and said, “Those pants look really good on you, Curls!” before flicking your eyes away so quickly it felt almost dismissive. Did you mean it? Or were you just being polite?

That doubt gnawed at him constantly, and that night and this night was no different.

At that party, he stuck close to the wall, cradling a water bottle instead of a beer. He’d made the conscious decision not to drink a single drop of alcohol tonight—someone had to drive, and he knew better than to let himself get sloppy around you. He couldn’t afford to let anything slip, not when he was already walking a fine line between admiration and outright longing.

From his spot near the edge of the crowd, he watched you, as he always did. You floated between groups, laughing, dancing, shining like the brightest light in the room. It was a privilege and a curse, being the one who got to witness you in these moments.

And then he saw him.

Some guy in a leather jacket, with a clean-shaven jaw and a cocky grin that made Curly’s stomach twist. He watched as you slid into the guy’s lap, your arm draped over his shoulder, your lips curling into that mischievous smile that he knew all too well.

“Mmm, your lap’s such a good seat,” you purred, your voice dripping with flirtation. “I wonder what else on you is...”

The words hit Curly like a punch to the gut. His grip on the water bottle tightened until the plastic crinkled audibly. He tore his gaze away, his jaw clenching so hard it ached.

Why him? What’s wrong with me?

The bitterness crept in, sharp and relentless.

Why aren’t you doing that with m—

“Whoa there, tiger,” a familiar voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts.

Curly turned to see Jimmy leaning against the wall beside him, a lopsided grin on his face. His old friend looked the same as ever—rough around the edges, with a reckless air about him that hadn’t changed since they were children.

“You need to stop showing the jealousy on your face in broad daylight,” Jimmy said, taking a swig from his beer. “It’s embarrassing.”

Curly scowled, turning his gaze back to the crowd. “I’m not jealous.” His voice was low, clipped, as if saying it with enough conviction might make it true.

“Sure you’re not,” Jimmy said, clearly unconvinced. “But just so you know, pining in the shadows isn’t a great look for you. You should just tell them how you feel.”

Curly let out a humorless laugh, his gaze fixed on the far wall. “Yeah, right. They don’t see me like that.”

Jimmy raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “You sure about that?”

Curly didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The truth was, he wasn’t sure about anything when it came to you—except that you drove him crazy in every possible way and that he needed to get rid of these feelings somehow. From the way you filled every room with your energy to the way you always seemed to find him in a crowd with that warm, teasing smile of yours. That smile was like a lifeline and a torment all at once. Did you even know what you did to him?

Probably not.

He hated that he couldn’t read you, hated the way your actions seemed to contradict each other. Sure, you complimented him now and then. For a moment, he’d let himself think you might be interested. But then there were nights like this, where you’d sit in some other guy’s lap, laugh at their jokes, and tell them things that left his chest aching.

Why them? What do they have that I don’t?

The question looped endlessly in his mind, a bitter echo that wouldn’t fade.

But what he didn’t know—what he couldn’t know—was that your behavior wasn’t just random. It wasn’t some cruel game or thoughtless act. You weren’t trying to hurt him, and you had no clue that you even were.

To you, it was simple: he couldn’t possibly feel any sort of attraction towards you.

After all, he never flirted with anyone, never went home with anyone after a party, and certainly never looked at you the way you imagined he might look at someone he actually wanted. Curly was kind, attentive, and always there for you, but it was easy to mistake that steadiness for a type of distant affection. The kind a best friend might give, not the kind that left your stomach fluttering and your chest tight.

So, in your own way, you tried to move on.

The guys you flirted with, kissed, let your hands roam over—they were placeholders, distractions from the ache of wanting someone you believed you couldn’t have. But there was one thing you never let yourself do.

You never hooked up with a guy who had blonde hair or blue eyes.

It felt too close, too much, like you were chasing after the ghost of what you really wanted but could never have. And in your mind, it was safer this way. A line you could draw in the sand to keep yourself from breaking completely.

But he didn’t know that.

All Curly knew was the bitter jealousy gnawing at his insides as he watched you, the taste of it sharp and acidic, almost choking. All he saw was you shining in someone else’s arms while he sat on the sidelines, telling himself,

I’m just not their type. They just don’t see me like that.

Jimmy’s voice pulled him back.

“Look, man,” Jimmy said, his tone slightly softer now, less teasing. “I’m not saying it’s easy. But you’re not gonna get anywhere like this. If they really don’t see you that way, at least you’ll know for sure. Isn’t that better than torturing yourself like this?”

Curly stared down at his water bottle, the plastic warped from his grip. Is it better? He wasn’t sure. But the idea of confessing, of laying himself bare and being met with rejection—it felt unbearable. There’s no way he’d ever want to risk his friendship with you—making you feel uncomfortable around him since you very clearly don’t return his affections.

And so, he stayed quiet.

Jimmy’s voice cut through his thoughts again. “Look, man, I haven’t seen you in years, and this is how I find you? Sulking in the corner because a person you’re clearly in love with is sitting in some loser’s lap? You’ve got to get it together.”

Curly shot him a glare. “Why are you even here?”

Jimmy shrugged. “Got dragged out by some coworkers. Didn’t expect to run into you, but hey, maybe it’s fate. Someone needs to talk some sense into you.”

Curly shook his head, draining the last of his water. “Yeah, well, thanks for the unsolicited advice.”

Jimmy smirked. “Anytime.”

The sound of your drunken mumblings pulled Curly back to the present. You were slumped against the passenger door, a lazy smile tugging at your lips. The dim glow of the streetlights passing through the windows played across your features, softening the chaos the party had left behind on your smeared makeup. The quiet hum of the car engine was a soothing contrast to the noise still pounding in his memory.

“You doing okay?” he asked, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, his voice gentle and tinged with concern.

You turned your head toward him, your gaze unfocused but somehow managing to land on his chest. For a moment, you just stared, lips parted slightly as if you were caught in some profound thought—or maybe just too far gone to find words.

Curly’s brows knitted together. “What?”

“I wanna biiiiite,” you slurred finally, voice thick with sleepiness, tequila, vodka, and who knew what else.

He blinked, his hands tightening on the steering wheel as his mind attempted to process. “You wanna... what?”

You didn’t respond immediately, your glassy-eyed focus shifting from his chest to his face.

“Bite what?” he repeated, his voice now tinged with exasperation and a growing sense of dread.

“Tiddies,” you mumbled, your fingers twitching in your lap as if you were reaching for a pair of two.

Curly groaned, dragging a hand down his face in disbelief. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath as he slowed to a stop at a red light.

His exasperation earned a giggle from you, the sound light and airy, as though his frustration were a personal victory. But as the laughter subsided, your eyes lingered on him under the glow of the red traffic light. The crimson hue painted his sharp features, catching on the curve of his jaw and the faint shadow of stubble along his cheek. You stared at him for a long moment, something shifting in your expression as tears began to pool in your eyes.

Your lip wobbled. “How can one man have so much sex appeal!?” The words came out as a wail, slurring together with all the melodrama you could muster. A fat tear slipped down your cheek, and you sniffled, your face crumpling like a child who’d just dropped their ice cream.

Curly’s head snapped toward you, his eyes widening in alarm. Wait. Wait, what?

“Wh—What are you talking about?” he stammered, his tone a mix of disbelief and rising panic.

“You’re just—” you hiccupped, sniffling again, “the w-worst!”

His confusion deepened, his brows knitting as he stared at you like you’d just grown a second head. You were sobbing—full-on crying—and he had no idea what was going on. What did you mean by “so much sex appeal”? And why, exactly, were you crying about it?

Do people cry about things like this? he wondered, his mind racing. They find me attractive? Are they joking? Oh my God, they’re serious.

Panic prickled at the edges of his composure. “Yes, I’m the worst,” he said quickly, trying to calm you down. “I’m sorry, okay? Whatever I did, I’m sorry.” His voice was gentle, though his face betrayed his complete and utter bewilderment.

You sniffled again, staring at him as if he’d just confessed to being attracted to cartoon horses. “Nooo! Curls!” you wailed as he pulled into the driveway. “You’re not actually the worst! I’m sorrrrry!”

He put the car in park, still reeling as your hand suddenly shot out to grip his shoulder. You looked at him with wide, watery eyes, your other hand flying to your mouth like you couldn’t believe what you’d just made him say.

But barely five seconds passed before your expression glazed over again. Your fingers tightened on his shoulder, your drunken brain moving at a completely different speed.

“Mmm,” you hummed, leaning toward him slightly. “You look so comfy...”

Curly tilted his head, his confusion mounting. What now?

“You’d be sooo nice to cuddle with after sex,” you mumbled dreamily, the words slurring together into a drunken confession. “Curly? Sex? Woah… Mmmph…”

His brain short-circuited.

Did they just—no, they didn’t. No way. Except they did. WHAT IS HAPPENING?!

He gaped at you, his face caught in a perfect storm of shock, disbelief, and something dangerously close to flustered. His thoughts scrambled for some semblance of logic. They’re drunk. They don't mean it. This is just... random drunk nonsense, right? RIGHT?

“You—what—” he stammered, his voice breaking slightly as he struggled to piece together a response.

But you were already leaning back against the seat, your lashes fluttering shut as sleep began to claim you. And Curly? Curly sat frozen, staring ahead at the dashboard as if it held the answers to the mysteries of the universe.

His pulse raced as your words echoed in his mind, and he could do nothing but sit there, trying—and failing—to make sense of the chaos you’d just unleashed.

a/n: let me know what y'all think pls! i feel like this one isnt as good as the previous one i did buuuut i wanted to write about this so bad

taglist is open! lmk if you want to be on the taglist for just curly/mouthwashing characters or if you want the news on alll my fics.

also might be accepting requests hehe! i can’t guarantee that i can do em, but i’ll accept ideas!

as always, not beta read, please let me know if there are any typos/inconsistencies lmfao stay safe & hydrated as always!

thanks for reading! <3

crossposted on ao3

taglist: @m-carriaga2021, @skyeconch

directory/m.list next chapter ⇨

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing smut #mouthwashing game #Captain curly #curly x reader #curly mouthwashing #curly x reader smut #captain curly smut #curly fluff #mouthwashing fluff #anya mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #grant curly #curly smut #mouthwashing au

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viinchester · 4 months ago

Text

Haunted Reflections

Warnings: References to Violence and Murder, mentions of Stalking, Trauma (related to losing a limb & violent incidents), Obsessive Thoughts, Unhealthy Behavior, graphic descriptions in thoughts of Gore (Violence, Bloodshed, a bit of Body Mutilation), Moral Ambiguity (we're talking about Brian Moser here, hello?), Insults (like a single word lol), mentions of Drugs (two sentences, nothing about taking them), mentions of Death

Fandom: Dexter (TV Show/Series)

Pairing: Brian Moser/Rudy Cooper x F!Reader

Request by: @ireallydontknowohcrabs

Summary: You head to your routine appointment for a readjustment of your prosthetic leg at the Miami prosthetics clinic. This time, however, you are met with Rudy Cooper instead of your usual doctor. Unbeknownst to you, his dark secrets lie hidden beneath the surface, and you’ve unwittingly captured his undivided attention and care.

Word Count: 2.321

My Masterlist

A/N: Initially wasn't sure about which direction to go with this request, but I decided on one eventually.😅 It was fun to write, so I hope you guys will it!💞 Reposts/Comments with feedback are, as always, very much appreciated!!🙏🏼 And just as a reminder: My requests are currently open.🥰💙

You expected this visit to be the same as any other to the prosthetics clinic usually was.

You were going to meet Dr. Gardner, the prosthetist who had been with you since you’d first been fitted for your prosthetic leg, and he'd make a slight adjustment to it, and then you'd leave again.

But instead of that being the case, when you walked into the clinic today, you were greeted by someone else. A man, much younger than Dr. Gardner, with a tall frame and dark curly hair stood by the window and was currently slipping on his gloves. The doctor, obvious by the signature-white lab coat he was wearing, calmly turned to you with a professional and slightly reassuring smile.

“Unfortunately Dr. Gardner’s out sick at the moment,” he immediately explained, his voice smooth and composed. “I'm filling in for him, so I’ll be the one handling your adjustment today. My name's Dr. Rudy Cooper, it's nice to meet you.” He shook your hand gently before gesturing to the chair in the middle of the room. “Please, have a seat.”

You nodded, sitting down and rolling the cuff of your pant-leg up, glancing at him curiously. “Well then let’s see if you’re as good as Dr. Gardner at putting me back together.”

Brian gave a small smile as he seated himself across from you, gently lifting your leg to begin his examination on your prosthetic. “I’ll try my best. Dr. Gardner’s very good at it, from what I hear.” His voice was light, but he was already scanning you, taking in the way you moved, the way you spoke.

When his eyes reached your hands, he had to do a double take, his world stopping. Your nails, painted in the exact same way his mother used to paint hers. The hues were extremely similar, and the order of the colors was identical.

It came out of nowhere and hit him like a physical blow. For just a second his breath hitched and his usually steady hands trembled at the sight.

No. It couldn’t be. But it was.

His mother’s nails, now on your hands, like some ghostly echo of the past.

The carefully constructed facade of calm professionalism flickered for a moment as a flood of memories surged through him.

His mother’s laughter, the smell of her perfume, the soft touch of her hand as she ruffled his hair. And then… the blood. Her blood, mixing with the colors of those very same nails.

How could this be happening? He hadn’t thought about his mother in this way for so long, hadn’t let himself remember.

Blinking a few times, he quickly put your leg down and reached for your file instead, fighting to regain control over his composure.

He couldn’t lose it here. Not now. It was just a coincidence anyway. Just some random woman with the same taste in nail polish.

Still, deep down the shock lingered, sending tremors through the carefully walled-off parts of his mind.

He flipped through your file as casually as possible, clearing his throat once to keep his tone friendly, but professional. “Just going over some notes here. It says the injury happened... a few years ago? Could you remind me of what happened, just to make sure everything lines up?”

Forcing a polite smile, the mask of Rudy Cooper slipped into place, though it felt more strained than usual. His eyes couldn’t help but glance back to your nails every time you so much as shifted, the image of his mother — and her terrified eyes, her pleading hands, those painted nails — almost overlapping with you. He could barely hear your voice over the roaring in his head.

Not noticing anything off, you nodded, hesitating for a second. You hesitated, not because the incident was difficult to talk about anymore, but because it had become such a strange story to tell. You’d almost made peace with it, enough to laugh about it sometimes.

“Yeah, it was... a pretty bad day. Tried to steal some drugs. Not for me, though.” You smiled shyly, a hint of awkwardness in your tone. “My idiot ex, thought I could help him out of a mess he got himself into. But then I got cornered by three guys with a chainsaw. Like something out of a horror movie, right?” You laughed a little, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Brian’s hands paused again, but he kept his face neutral, even with the chaos inside him growing. Drugs? That was already close enough to the horrors of his past. But then you mentioned three guys with a chainsaw, and the floor seemed to fall away beneath him. Though his expression didn’t change and he resumed his adjustment on your prosthetic, the memory inside his mind hit him like a sledgehammer, and in vivid detail as well. His mother, the men, the chainsaw whirring. He was too young to stop it, too small to save her, but the memory had never left him. The blood, the screams, the way her nails had clutched at him in desperation before the world went red.

And now here you were, sitting in front of him, your soft voice recounting a version of his nightmare.

Brian exhaled slowly, maintaining a steady voice. “That’s... an intense way to lose a leg. It must have been terrifying.” His words sounded professional, if empathetic, but internally he struggled to comprehend how this was possible. How could you have survived something so reminiscent of what happened to her?

His disbelief mixed with something darker, something predatory. He had been powerless as a child, but not now. Not anymore.

The thought of you cornered by men with a chainsaw, just like his mother, made something in him snap into place. His shock was replaced by cold determination.

It was as if the universe had handed him a second chance, a way to rewrite the past. This time was different. This time, he wouldn’t be helpless. This time, he would stop the violence, before it consumed you, too.

You gave a small shrug and kept talking, oblivious to the storm brewing inside of him. “Yeah, it was... I honestly didn't believe I’d make it out alive. But it’s been a few years now and here I am, still standing. Just… in a slightly different way.” You offered a small, self-deprecating smile. “Guess I’ve learned to adapt. Well, kind of. I’m still getting used to the leg in a way, but hey, I haven’t fallen flat on my face in a while, so I guess that’s progress.” You smiled again, this time more genuine though, trying to lighten the mood. “And at least my ex didn’t get the drugs. Silver linings, right?”

Brian’s gaze darkened slightly at that, though he kept his tone light. “I see. That’s very impressive and brave of you, as I can only imagine how tough all that must have been. I’m hoping your ex is not someone you still have to deal with on top of that?”

You hesitated, biting your lip and avoiding his eyes, a little uneasy at the topic of your ex boyfriend. “Well, actually… he’s, uh, kind of been stalking me, on and off. Nothing too serious, but... it’s still annoying, you know?”

Brian's fingers flexed around your prosthetic, the material fitting securely into place. His eyes, though still composed on the surface, deepened in intensity and became more focused. Your ex was stalking you. Lurking, like a predator. His jaw clenched, and his disbelief at the situation melted away, replaced by a new resolve.

I couldn’t save her. But I can save you.

The idea of this man, your ex, still in your life filled him with an odd sense of purpose. He didn’t care about people, not really, but this was different. You had painted nails. You had suffered violence. You reminded him of her.

He would make sure nobody hurt you ever again. Starting with that ex-boyfriend of yours. Yes, he would definitely be dealt with. Permanently.

And going further, from now on, you would become his patient. Dr. Gardner had served his purpose, but Brian knew, with a chilling certainty, that you wouldn’t be seeing him again. Not if he could help it.

He forced a sympathetic chuckle, masking his true emotions as he continued to work on your prosthetic with his usual precision. “That sounds... frustrating. You’d think he’d get the hint by now.”

“Right?” You rolled your eyes playfully, trying to dispel the tension that came with the subject of your ex. “But I’m fine, really. It’s just one of those things I have to deal with.”

Brian simply nodded, his hands moving delicately, ensuring the fit was perfect, but his thoughts were miles away, plotting, considering what exactly he needed to do next to make sure you'd no longer have to do deal with it.

He was nothing if not methodical, his mind working like a finely-tuned machine, always planning, always calculating. When it came to taking care of your ex-boyfriend and Dr. Gardner, he would need to use two different approaches, that much was obvious.

Your ex-boyfriend would be the one to pay in blood. The man had been the catalyst for your suffering, the reason you had been put in a situation that mirrored Brian's own mother's gruesome death.

So your ex wasn't going to just disappear, that would be too easy, too nice. Instead, the bastard was going to feel every ounce of pain, every bit of terror that Brian imagined his mother and you had felt. He’d stalk him for days and learn his habits, figure out where he was most vulnerable. And when he’d finally make his move, it would be somewhere isolated, somewhere he could really take his time.

The act itself would neither be quick nor clean. Instead, Brian would make it messy, and visceral. He'd use tools that mimicked the chainsaw that had haunted both him and you. While he wouldn’t use an actual chainsaw, far too noisy and difficult to control, he would choose something just as violent, perhaps a hacksaw or an axe. He would let your ex feel the terror, hear the whir of a blade, and realize that his time was up.

In his twisted mind, Brian believed that you deserved closure. You needed to know that your ex-boyfriend was truly dead. Maybe you wouldn’t know it had been Brian, but you’d know your ex had been taken care of — brutally, and publicly even. The police would find the body, bloodied, hacked apart, left in some abandoned place where no one could escape the horror of the scene. It wouldn’t be a neat kill; it would be a spectacle. The kind that left a permanent mark in the mind of anyone who saw it.

It would be justice for you, and revenge for his mother.

It would be perfect.

You were going to feel safe, knowing that the danger had been wiped out, grateful that the threat was gone.

Dr. Gardner, on the other hand, required a different touch. Brian held no ill feelings toward him, the man simply needed to die out of necessity. But the doctor was a respected figure in your life, and if he simply vanished or died a violent death, you might grieve too hard, or worse, become suspicious. So Dr. Gardner's exit had to be quiet, peaceful, and leave no room for doubt. Brian could easily make it look natural, the man was already old enough that it wouldn’t raise too many questions if he were to die in his sleep anyway.

He'd slip a small dose of potassium chloride into Dr. Gardner’s food or drink, undetectable and mimicking the signs of a natural heart attack. The man would feel a sudden, overwhelming pressure in his chest, his heart seizing painfully — but he wouldn’t be able to cry for help. And in mere minutes, it would be over, and the man would be found peacefully in his bed or his office chair, just another old guy who’d met his end from "natural causes". No one would question it, and you might feel sad for a little while, but definitely not suspicious.

And Brian knew grief over a natural death tended to fade more quickly.

Then you’d return to the clinic in need of further adjustments to your prosthetic in the future, and who would be there for you? Him. The friendly, capable replacement who’d been there all along.

As Brian thought about it all, his hands checked the fit of your prosthetic, his fingers running along the edges.

“Now, hopefully this adjustment will work perfectly for you,” he then said, his voice calm as ever. “If you need anything else, any follow-up, you can come back to me and I’ll take care of it.”

You nodded — still oblivious to anything going on underneath his professional exterior — as you softly smiled up at him and stood up, testing your leg and finding it already fitting better. “Thanks, Dr. Cooper, it’s great, and that’s really nice of you. I’ll be sure to come back if I need any more work done.”

Brian smiled back, but it was colder this time, more possessive. “Rudy, please. And I’ll be here, whenever you need me.”

As you left the clinic, you felt relieved, glad that everything had gone well despite the fact that Dr. Gardner wasn't the one doing your adjustment. Dr. Cooper, or Rudy, had been kind, careful, and understanding. He was a really nice man. Hopefully you'd have him as your prosthetist again if Dr. Gardner ever fell sick another time.

Watching you walk away, Brian was certain of your return. He intended to mold your future so that you would always come back to him.

You may not know it yet, but he was going to ensure you’d never need anyone else, ever again.

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stxrbxster · 3 months ago

Note

YAYYY JIMMY X READER pls :3

I love that horrible man so muxh

Baby, Can You See Through The Tears? (Mature)

jimmy x gn!reader

c/w - jimmy being jimmy (misogyny, verbal and physical abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, cursing, ect..)

synopsis - you, jimmy's s/o, go to comfort him after curly gives the crew the news that they'll all lose their jobs after they return to earth. he's... not taking it well.

a/n - ahhhh! i love evil men so so much.... NOT excusing or validating his actions btw, you can enjoy things in fiction and not agree w or support them irl. and yes, the title is a lana del ray reference.

wc - 1240

(image not mine)

jimmy had snapped after hearing the news of how, upon returning to earth, pony express would be terminating the employment of your crew. he had stood from his seat at the dining table and yelled, berating curly for allegedly having hoped for this and being a horrible friend, then stormed off. you, being the doting s/o that you are, excused yourself from the table and nervously chased after him.

"jimmy...?" you call out, your voice is soft and low as you slowly step into the tulpar's sleeping quarters. jimmy is stood at the foot of his bed, head in his hands and his fingers tangled tightly in his long locks of brown hair.

he turns, eyes almost crazed as his neck snaps around to look at you. "jesus FUCKING christ!" he yells, kicking the leg of his bed. you hear the wood splinter and crack at the impact. "what? what could you POSSIBLY fucking want?" he asks, venom dripping from his angrily slurred words as he takes an imposing step towards you.

you stumble back, frightened. it wasn't uncommon for jimmy to yell, especially at you and especially when he was stressed or angry, but this scared you. jimmy gets angry, sure. and yeah, sometimes he'll even get a little violent, but this was different. you've never seen him so belligerently angry and the sight of it sends a knee-weakening chill through your spine.

"i-" your breath catches in your throat as you fumble to find your words, arms bracing yourself against the doorframe on instinct. "i just... i wanted to make sure you were alright." you mutter, trying your hardest to seem unbothered, unafraid. jimmy is a scary, scary man when he's angry, but you'd learned over the years not to show him that.

it always made him angrier, the sight of you cowering in fear below him as he'd scream at you, spit flying from his mouth and occasionally peppering your face as your eyes would fill with tears and your knees would buckle below you. "weak" he'd call you. a weak, insignificant, coward that couldn't even handle words. "i'll fucking give you something to be scared of." he'd always say, raising his hand to bring it down across your face.

despite you efforts, he notices. he steps closer, grabbing you by the collar of your uniform shirt and pulling you away from the doorframe, his eyes wide with blind fury. "what do you think?" he spits, pulling you closer to him, your faces barely inches apart. "seriously, how fucking oblivious can you be?" he asks in an angry, condescending tone. "no. no obviously i'm not fucking okay."

you shutter as his breath hits your face, eyes frantically darting across his features as sweat gathers on your brow. "i'm sorry, jim. i just-" your voice is shaky as you try to explain yourself before being cut off.

"just what?" he taunted, pushing you up against the wall behind you, hitting your head off of it. "just came to rub it in my face?" he asks, his voice growing louder as he looks down at you, pure unadulterated rage painting his face "just came to rub it in my face that i'm losing everything?"

you shake your head vigorously, ignoring the throbbing pain emanating from the back of your skull. "no! no, of course not.." you stutter, eyes welling with tears as he stares down at you with an expression more frightening than pure hate. "i- everything's gonna be alright jimmy." you speak softly, your voice cracking as you try to comfort him, to bring him down from this enormously high point of rage. "it'll... it'll be tough, but we'll have each other, won't we?'

"that's what you think, huh?" he scoffs a mean-hearted laugh before bringing his hand down against your cheek with a booming clap. "that everything is going to be just-fucking-fine because 'we have eachother'? i hate to break it to you, dollface, but in the real world everything doesn't just magically work out because of togetherness."

your lips quiver as a few stray tears fall down your cheeks, swallowing a sob before you attempt to speak again. "that's... that's not what i meant." you whimper, voice shaky and cracking.

he grips you by the jaw, squeezing it just tightly enough to hurt without bruising. "then what?" he speaks with flat anger. "what did you mean?"

more tears fall down your cheeks as you crumple. you don't know why you're trying to 'argue' back to him, it never works. "i just.." you mumble. "i just meant..." your voice breaks again as a quiet sob pushes out of your throat. "that- that i'd be here for you no matter what happens, that you'll have my support regardless of how things go when we get back to earth."

his face almost softens and a pang of slight guilt thrums through his chest, unbeknownst to you. his grip moves from your jaw to your hair as he balls it in his fist. "yeah, of course you would." he scoffs again, the venom in his words not quite reaching his eyes this time. "thats your fucking job, you're my partner."

he feels bad. he'd never express that, never let you know that, but he feels bad. his chest throbs with guilt every single time that he does this. he doesn't really know why he does it in the first place, but he does. he's never not felt bad for treating you this way, he knows you love him with every fiber of your being, that you'd never hurt him or leave him for the things he does to you and, in his own sick, perverted, twisted way he loves you too. but he can't stop being this way. if he never admits that he's wrong for this, that he's hurting you just for the sake of it then, in his mind, he's not. if he verbalizes it, makes it real, it gives you a reason to buck back, to leave, to put yourself first. he cannot handle the thought of that. not to mention the fact that there were... others that he'd been treating much, much worse as of late. he knows you wouldn't forgive him if you knew what he'd done to anya.

you let out several more weak sobs, trembling as he holds you pinned in place. "i'm sorry!" you cry, staring up at him with bleary eyes. "you're right, i'm sorry..." you concede. you just want the pain to stop as you crumble.

he moves his hands from your hair and wraps them around your waist and lets you bury your face in his chest as you cry, rubbing circles on your back. "i know you're sorry." he says, the poisonous, vitriolic tone he'd had moments earlier seemly vanished, leaving behind a low, comforting hum. he gently lifts your head by the chin, making your teary eyes meet his distant ones as he presses his chapped lips to yours.

you melt as you wrap your arms around his neck, tears still flowing down your cheeks as you press against him, the comforting warmth of his body washing away every fear you'd felt since the beginning of your altercation. you knew he didn't mean to. he's just stressed. besides, you were out of line.

he pulls back from your lips, gently pushing your hair from your forehead as he planted a soft kiss against it. "I forgive you."

#laine lamenting #mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #mouthwashing fandom #mouthwashing curly #jimmy mouthwashing #mouthwashing jimmy #anya mouthwashing #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing game #mouthwashing anya #daisuke mouthwashing #mouthwashing daisuke #swansea mouthwashing #mouthwashing swansea

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belovedivies · 3 months ago

Note

Author🙏,

May you show some benevolence to us peasants and give us some crumbs about our albino, Alipede✨

terminal ft. alipede

a/n: i adore yandere alipede with every fiber of my being. cw: yandere content, spoiler for johan’s past, mention of bullying, possessive and obsessive behaviors, manipulation, violent tendencies, implied parentification on reader's part, trashy adults made trashy decisions, injury, codependency (oops). wc: 2.67k ao3 link! m.list

This far into the countryside, you stopped caring what day it was. Every sunrise had the same rooster crowing behind the mountains and every nightfall sounded the same container trucker honking on a distant highway just as you were about to doze off. The same off-brand chips in every local dinner, the same celebrity whose life people tended to gossip about.

You wanted to say again, with conviction, that you weren’t miserable. There was no better fate to be bestowed upon. Maybe in another universe where your dad hadn’t left and your mom cared a bit more, you might have had the chance to act your age. Picked up a new hobby or two. Learned a sport. Went to summer camps. Fell in love.

Then again, maybe the caregiver role you took on during this three-month break was inevitable. The boarding school your mom worked at was so low on staff that you had to practically live there to play the part of a nanny. Keeping tabs on the kids. Making sure they take their study seriously. Breaking off fights in the hallway. On days when the tension was heavy and the lump in your throat had been too uncomfortable to ignore, you only knew how to smile and suck it up. Sending them away with a pat on the back.

The reminder persisted: they would always have you to count on, and you only had yourself.

Away from the crowds but never in the corner, Alipede was a strange one. Obedient to his own torment yet glimmering under the unfeeling façade was a rare defiance. He never fought back, never complained. You wondered if he had simply given up. If he had just taken everything with a grant of salt like you did once upon a time. Still, you admired Alipede. And nothing ever stopped you to try and do your best by the poor boy: slipped in extra bread, chastised his bullies, cleaned the dirt on his desk.

You stared at him like a hawk from the other side of the room. Many times a day, he might have stared back.

—

One noon, Alipede tripped over a tree root outside and scraped his knees. It was midday when the sun was at its highest, and specifically a day so boiling hot that the heat had felt like it was raking red sharp nails down your sweat-soaked back; your toes sticking together in a pair of too-large sandals.

The grass and dirt sizzled their complaints underneath your palms, but they didn’t for Alipede. Against the limewood, he rested his back with a peculiar look of detachment.

He hadn’t cried.

But you fussed over his wounds anyway with wet wipes and a few clumsy attempts at band-aids. Halfway through the heinous process with the tissue already stained with dirt and blood, you realized you might be risking an infection.

“S-Should I get a teacher? A nurse?” You choked out hopelessly before realizing the only semi-responsible teenager around here were you. “W-We should get you inside first!”

Your shoulders continued to shake the more you forced the words out. The boy’s eyes were dead set on your panicked face, but ultimately no answer came.

You gulped and put on your best caring tone. “D-Does it still hurt?”

Alipede blinked. No answer. A thousand years passed. Silence. Your lips wobbled with anxiety in your guts and an apology behind your lips. He had it so much harder than you.

Still, when the albino extended an arm out to reach something behind you… no, on you. Under you? You flinched. A marshmallow-soft sensation settled on your lap and your gaze instinctively followed where his hand went. A rabbit, fur as pale as snow and eyes as red as ruby, had unknowingly hopped out of its coop and was now curling up on your legs.

His rabbit.

It might as well have made you drown in guilt before, but that feeling was so far away now it barely registered in your mind. Alipede reached out to pet the creature. It nuzzled into his hand and emitted a purring sound, the vibration tingling your skin. You watched the interaction with relief.

A good distance away from the common building, everything measured up to a perfect amount of tranquility. There were no cheery nursery rhymes on repeat, no cagey and overly dramatic action movies playing from one classroom to another. You smiled and scratched the rabbit’s head with your forefinger, earning a soft snore from the little guy.

“You left the cage open.”

It took three blinks to realize that Alipede was talking to you.

He hadn’t tilted his head up yet, still caressing his beloved pet. Beneath the shades of linden, Alipede seemed so soft and kind—looking every bit the pretty boy he was told to be. Maybe it hadn’t been a compliment at all, and you knew how much the albino detested being labeled as just another darling face. But even then, without spring in his steps and a guide cane in his hand, Alipede had always had this air of helplessness floating in and around him, teetering between the fading line of despair and a sense of willpower just vague enough to keep him going.

Your heart was already in your throat when he continued to say something.

Was it your name?

The beginning and the ending seemed to match, but there was no guarantee what had slipped out in between. The sun hid behind a heap of cotton candy clouds, yet your palm remained clammy, uncomfortably hot. Maybe it was the guilt. Maybe it was the knowledge that you had too wronged the poor boy. That you had fed and played and cared for what was his when he wasn’t around.

A tap on your shoulder. This time, you gathered the courage to finally meet his eyes as the albino leaned in and muttered again.

So it really was your name.

And your forehead was touching his. So was your nose. Alipede was so close you two were basically breathing the same air, the apples of your cheeks up against one another. And you hadn’t minded the unusually intimate distance, too busy taking in the red in his irises and the flutter of his pale lashes. Only when the rabbit squirmed on your lap again, trying to make some room did you realize that you still owed him an apology. You pulled back and ducked your head sheepishly.

“I’m sorry…”

For touching the rabbit without his permission. For the wounds on his knees. For complaining too much when he hadn’t.

Your gaze was trained on your lap, waiting. Thomas once whined to you about the scratches on his hand, calling the albino a freak because he had overreacted. You wondered if Alipede would bite you too. His pet did the first time you approached it, leaving a red welt on your arm and a scar on your pinkie. The thought of an angry boy sinking his teeth deep into your skin sounded so silly that it almost made you laugh. Maybe you wouldn’t even blame him then.

He hadn’t said anything either, but when the albino unexpectedly took your hands in his and laced your fingers together, you hadn’t flinched. Alipede was smiling at you.

“It’s fine,” then came a gentle squeeze. There in those cemeteries of red, you spotted a glint of delight, “I’m not mad.”

“Oh.” You opened your mouth, then closed it. “Thanks...”

Alipede raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just…” You mumbled. “I thought you would be mad at me for…”

A lock of white hair fell over his shoulder as Alipede tilted his head. He looked so cute; you wanted to squish his cheeks together.

“If it’s you, I won’t.”

The comment might have made you feel better if it wasn’t for the dry delivery. Even then, you trusted the boy enough to mellow out with a squeeze back. Did you forget something? Your gaze darted back to his scraped knees and felt your heart jump; you still had to take him inside for a checkup.

“You’re still hurting! W-We should head back in—“ The second you had tried to move away, he gripped and pulled you back in with a strength you didn’t know was possible. Shouldn’t be possible. Eyes wide as full moons, you could only stare as Alipede cupped your cheeks.

“I’m fine.”

“But-“

“I’m not hurting.”

The albino lowered his voice, pleading.

“Can we stay here a little longer, please?”

You nod wordlessly.

It was only Alipede, after all.

You trusted him just as much as he did you. He didn’t need to talk and beg and cry his way into your free time; you gave it to him willingly anyway.

The albino’s thumbs ghosted over your cheekbones. You wondered if he had felt your silent agreement at all, if he could hear the heart beating inside your chest, the blood flowing in your veins, and the air pumping into your lungs. He might have heard a lot of things you couldn’t.

The rabbit squirmed once more, nuzzling its fluffy head against your thigh. Alipede’s hands finally left your face to continue petting his comfort animal, but his eyes didn’t.

“He likes you,” Alipede said with conviction, and a smile smudged around the corners of his lips like a gallery of oil paintings forgotten in the rain.

“Oh.” You gaped at him; it always got so unbearably awkward the first time. “Um… what’s his name by the way?”

The boy must have had one ready before you even asked, sonnets of adoration bubbling in his throat and vibrant stars dancing behind his eyelids. And you had waited too—all bated breath, all whispering humbleness. Uncertainty swirled your guts like a desert oasis.

But when Alipede opened his mouth to speak, it was your name that had slipped out.

And again. And again. And again.

He said yours the same way people would when they cheered for sport: loud, excited, hopeful. You blinked. You heard him the first time, you just didn’t know what he meant by any of it. A “Huh?”, small and confused, left your lips. Then the cords clicked and the dots connected themselves.

“Oh, oh.” You dropped your face into your hands with a choked groan; the heat on your cheeks rivaling the scorching sun. Through the crack of your fingertips, Alipede’s smile remained constant.

He had named his rabbit after you.

—

The hallway got dustier and narrower the further you went down.

Once lunchtime rolled around, it was a maze of spilled drinks and childish destruction—foods and toys and everything imaginable going back and forth in the air until all of them hit the floor in a mass of ruination. One noon, you sighed and tugged on Alipede’s arm, leading him into the teacher’s lounge.

The place was empty. Well, no teacher here had ever bothered to stick with the kids until their second meal of the day, anyway. Once an incoherent excuse was out, they slipped into their cars and drove off into the distance. You never saw them again.

Your mom was around for breakfast sometimes, downing her portion wearily. She reeked of cheap booze. Of nightclubs and bad decisions. Once in third grade, you flushed her Seropin down the toilet by accident, thinking they were expired candy. Even then, your mom had come home wordlessly the next day with bloodshot eyes and bruised lips, and you hadn’t gone near her medical cabinet since.

Alipede leaned against the wall, a hand clasped over his nose obediently as you cleared out cigar stubs and crushed beer cans on the floor. Turning on the AC and opening a few windows seemed to help with the stuffy air inside. You guided the albino to sit at the table in the middle of the room, on chairs that creaked and felt too adult-like with foam for cushions. There was no one else around, but Alipede clung to your waist with a pout and pulled your seats closer than they already were. You giggled; you loved his clinginess, just as much as he loved you.

“We have—” Still joyful, you paused for effect and peered down the two trays on the table. “—Japanese food today! Curry over rice and miso soup. Have you heard of them before, Ali?”

Alipede, nose buried in your hair and mind probably somewhere up in the cloud, only blinked. His grip tightened around your waist when he asked, “No. What are they like?”

“Hmm…” You pursed your lips, “the curry has a thick and smooth texture that feels like velvet against your tongue. It also contains a blend of spices like cumin and coriander. Remember that, Ali? You said you couldn’t stand the pungent smell!” Your shoulders shook slightly as you laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s sweet and pretty mildly spiced. We have carrots and potatoes too! You said you loved them—“

On and on, you went about the dishes with gusto. He kept his eyes on you the whole time.

You used to wonder what Alipede’s world was like. A pitch black. A collision of sound waves and echoes. An overdose of nothingness. Long ago, you read a story about a father who sacrificed his son for the prosperity of their land. The boy grew up beautifully still, slaying demons and taking back the body parts that had been rightfully his since birth. A touching tale about defying fate and pushing forward in the face of adversity.

Still, Hyakkimaru was a fictional character, and Alipede was not.

You couldn’t begin to fathom the battle he had to go through every day, struggling to just be seen as a normal person, one with a life just as valuable as others.

But he hadn’t complained.

He hadn’t cried to you about the bullying either. Months ago before you came, the albino huddled inside a coop behind the school, holding onto his pet bolt-tight. He didn’t need to cry; his fading bruises and healing wounds already did the job for him.

Alipede’s lips curled up against the shell of your ear, dragging you further into the wool of a couch nearby. “You’re right, it’s just mildly spiced,” he whispered, low and content like a purring cat, between the messy tangles of your limbs, “could use a bit more sweetness, though.”

—

“I wanna get out of here,” you sighed almost dreamily by a pond in the garden, legs tucked under your knees in your favorite sundress, “maybe visit Japan one day. Or Korean. Anywhere is nice.”

You raised a hand to point at something. Maybe a bird passing by. Maybe a red hot orb flowing on the horizon, half-submerged by the Earth. What it was, it was promptly abandoned the moment Alipede grabbed onto your wrist and twined your fingers together.

“You’re not thinking of leaving me, are you?” Alipede’s pupils dilated in the setting sun, the white of his hair and your dress bleeding into one oversaturated canvas. “You told me you wouldn’t.”

“Of course not!” The answer came just as quickly, hurt and amusement wrapped up in the form of a pout written across your face. Even then, he hadn’t returned an apology. You had felt silly for even bothering to wait for one, but that was okay.

It was only Alipede, after all.

Instead, you squeezed his hand back, lacing your pinkie together in the naive gesture of a promise.

“I’ll be your eyes, Ali. For as long as I live.”

You swore through mirthful smiles and hushed voices. Here, tucked away from the common building and terrible adults, the world narrowed down to just you and him. And Alipede—your sweet, adorable, and lovely Alipede—whose head was on your lap and whose heart was forever yours, only stared back unblinkingly.

Then he giggled, pulling you forward. Against all senses, you held on, and the two of you toppled into the grass. Nighttime prickled at your skin like a bug as you laughed along with him, and the summer dragged on, neverending.

#killer peter #killer peter manhwa #manhwa x reader #killer peter x reader #manhwa #reader insert #x reader #yandere killer peter x reader #yandere killer peter #yandere alipede #yandere x reader #alipede x reader #x female y/n #x female reader #fem reader #killer pietro

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imtryingbuck · 1 year ago

Text

Fifteen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 4,736

Warnings: fluff, angst, heavy use of pet names. Bucky and y/n argue and that’s a warning in itself. Brock rumlow, Bucky being a bad friend. Swearing. Bullying.

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Like every morning she waited outside for Bucky, Steve and Sam to arrive so they could all walk to school together. Y/n was so excited when she found out that she was going to be going to school with her two friends, though she was a year below them.

Sam was the boys’ friend first and when he was introduced to Y/n he instantly became her friend, throwing his arm around her he winked at her causing the girl to blush. Bucky wasn’t happy.

Sighing she checked her watch, the same one Bucky had brought her for her birthday last year, they was late.

She didn’t want to be in trouble for being late so she decided to head off on her own, as she pulled her bag further up her shoulder she kept her head down whilst walking the streets.

“Y/n! Y/n slow down!” Sam’s booming voice came from behind her.

“I can’t I’m going to be late!” She shouted back to him.

“H-hold on, Jesus woman you’re making me run today aren’t you?”

Feeling his arms wrap themselves around her waist she comes to a halt. “Where’s Ducky?”

“Ah he, never mind. Steve hurry up!”

“Sam where is he? Is he ill? Oh god he is isn’t he?”

“No Sugar he’s not, he’s just not walking with us this morning”

“Hey Y/n/n” Steve panted as he pulls his friend into a hug.

“Hi Stevie where’s Ducky?”

“With Dot”

“Dude!” Sam scolded.

“Wh-who’s Dot?”

“His girlfriend” Steve admits rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry”

“H-he has a girlfriend? Oh”

She couldn’t understand why her heart hurt at hearing that.

“If it makes you feel any better, me and Sam don’t like her”

“I want to go to school now”

Throughout her lessons she couldn’t find it in herself to concentrate, he had a girlfriend and didn’t tell her - why didn’t he tell her? Was she pretty? Did she know who she was? Was they going to be friends still?

“-Y/n!”

“Huh? Sorry Sir”

“Class is over…go”

“Right sorry Sir, see you tomorrow”

Shoving all her things into her school bag she heads down to wait outside the cafeteria for the boys to show. Like that morning she checks her watch and sighing, they’re late.

Her stomach growled and giving up waiting for them to show she heads into the cafeteria when she comes to a stop.

They were already there, sat at the table that was unofficially reserved for the four of them.

Her eyes watered at seeing a brunette sat in her place, next to her Ducky. She watched as he threw his arm around her and pulled her into him just like he always did to her. She watched as Sam and Steve laugh about something the girl said.

“Ow, I’m sorry” she stutters out after she’s pushed over.

“Move out of the way freak” Brock. The schools bully. Or as Y/n called him behind his back ‘Brock the rock’ no it wasn’t a compliment at his muscles but an insult, Brock rhymed with rock and rocks where dumb just like Brock.

“I-I’m sorry” she stutters as she tries to move out of the way.

“Aw you going to cry you little freak?” He says loudly catching everyone’s attention.

“N-no-“

“I think she is Brock” laughed Jack, another bully who followed Brock wherever he went.

“The little freak is going to cry!” Brock boomed causing her to flinch.

He takes it one step further by pushing her in to Jack who then shoves her away violently back to Brock, back and forth she was pushed between the two.

Y/n’s frantic eyes met Bucky’s who had been watching the whole thing along with everyone else. She nearly burst out crying when all he did was look down.

“Looks like your little boyfriend isn’t coming to the rescue this time freak” Brock whispers as he clutches her shirt tightly in his grip just before pushing her roughly onto the ground.

She waits until Brock and his lackeys leave before standing up, looking up towards the table she’s normally sat at with her friends her heart breaks when she sees the back of Bucky’s head and Steve and Sam looking down at their food.

Running out of the cafeteria she runs to the bathroom where she locks herself away until the loud shrill of the bell goes off.

Throughout the day she was glad she didn’t see any of the boys or Brock and Jack as she moved from one class to the next. Stuck in her own mind she couldn’t understand why neither one of her friends stuck up for her like they’ve done before whenever Brock was acting tough now that Tony had left school.

Were they my friends now? Why didn’t Bucky tell me he had a girlfriend? Why didn’t Steve and Sam stick up for me?

They were some of the many questions that swirled around her head as her last teacher Mr Levinson droned on.

When the bell rang throughout the school she took her time in packing her things, waiting for everyone to leave.

“Y/n?”

“Yes sir?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes sir, why?”

“Well you’re normally the first one out of the class” he chuckles.

“Oh. No everything’s okay sir” she smiled up at him as she brought the strap of her bag up her arm.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow remember you’ve got me for two periods”

“I know sir, I’ll see you tomorrow” waving bye to her favourite teacher she walks out of the class, slowly walking to the entrance. Like Mr Levinson said she was normally the first one out of class, and normally she was running through the halls to wait outside for the boys to arrive so they could head to the sweet shop on the corner of Main Street but today she was in no rush, no rush in seeing the spot she always waited at to being empty.

As she stepped out of the doors she felt stupid for hoping that they would have waited for her, they hadn’t.

As she walked past the sweet shop she heard Sam’s loud laughter filter through the gap in the door, her heart pounding loudly in her chest as she saw Sam, Steve and Bucky all laughing in the store, she swore her heart broke when she saw Bucky grab ahold of the brunettes hand from lunch and pulling her to place his lips to hers. Y/n brought her fingers to her lips softly touching them wondering how the girl in the store felt kissing Bucky.

Shaking her head and wiping her tears she walks off before any of them sees her.

“Hello angel-angel what’s wrong?” Howard asks when she walks in and straight pass him without saying hello or telling him how her day went, or better yet without her handing him her packet full to the brim of sweets so he could pick one - or if she was letting him feel cheeky two - out.

“Nothing dad I’m going to do my homework”

“Angel come here, or don’t I’ll just follow you” he mutters following her upstairs and into her room.

“Dad, please I just want to do my homework and go to sleep”

“Not until you tell me what’s happened? You’re not normally back yet, is Lloyds closed?”

“No. I-I just really need to get this homework done”

“Where’s the boys?”

“I-dad please”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on? You seem to forget angel I know you and I know something is wrong, so spill”

“Duc-Bucky has a girlfriend…”

“Oh…oh. I’m sorry angel”

“It’s okay, I just don’t have any friends anymore” she shrugs, looking at the photograph she had hanging up on her wall. Her, Bucky, Sam and Steve standing in front of the stall at the fair ground, Bucky’s arm wrapped around her waist as her hand was on his chest. All four of them smiling widely at the camera as Maria takes the photo.

“Of course you’ll still have friends angel, the boys will still be your friends”

“No they won’t. Steve and Sam were friends with Bucky before they were my friends”

“Bucky’s still you friend darling just because he has a girlfriend doesn’t mean shit-don’t tell your mother I just swore in front of you”

“I won’t” she giggles.

“Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”

She hadn’t found the courage to tell her parents about the bullying or how bad it was, knowing how they would react she didn’t want to make it any worse than it already was.

“No dad everything’s okay I promise”

“Okay…well tomorrow is Friday and you know what that means don’t you? That’ll prove that the boys are still your friends”

Shortly after Howard leaves so she could start her homework. Not that she does it.

Friday, tomorrow is Friday. Every weekend her, Steve and Sam heads to Bucky’s house for a sleepover. Was she still invited? Was Bucky’s girlfriend going to be there?

Her head pounded and her eyes stung so she climbed into bed falling asleep as her stomach growled in hunger it only then occurred to her that she hadn’t ate anything since breakfast, it didn’t stop her from falling into a restless sleep.

The next morning she moved along with the motions. Getting dressed, brushing her hair and teeth, eating breakfast, she puts her shoes on pressing a kiss to her parents their cheeks she says her goodbyes.

She hesitates outside whether she should wait for the boys to show or not she finally forces her legs to move, she wasn’t going to be waiting on them. Not anymore.

“Oi freak!” Brock shouted as he walks across the road to where she was, she carried on walking keeping her head down.

“Freak don’t ignore him” Jack says.

She felt hands on her back before she was shoved down on to the ground scraping her hands and her knees. “W-what do you want?”

“Your lunch”

“No”

“What?” Don’t ask her Brock she’s just as shocked as you at her sticking up for herself.

“I said no, are you deaf?” Shut up shut up shut up her brain screams at her.

“Funny, don’t worry freak you’re going to regret this” Brock says before picking her bag up and throwing it over a fence.

Watching the pair walk off she stands up and looks down at her knees, great they’re bleeding. Opening the gate she walks over to the door and knocks, waiting patiently she waits for the owner to open up.

“Hello?”

“Hi Sir, my bag got thrown over your fence could I please get it?”

“Sure…”

“It’s over that fence” she points at the wooden fence that leads to the backyard she assumes.

“Oh, yeah sure hold on I’ll get the key” he walks back inside and returns quickly with the key “are you okay?”

“Yes Sir, are you?”

“I’m fine but I’m talking about your knees and hands, they’re bleeding”.

“Bullies Sir”

“Oh, nasty little parasites aren’t they?”

“Yes Sir” she giggles “thank you Sir” she says as he hands over her bag back to her.

“You’re welcome and hey listen don’t let them get to you okay? It will get better soon I can promise you that”

“H-how do you know?”

“I was bullied when I was at school but here I am owning a business that continues to grow even long after I’ve retired” he smiles softly.

“Wow, I-I don’t know why they pick on me I’ve never done anything wrong to them”

“Because they see the potential in you and they are scared because they haven’t gotten any so they spend their time and energy trying to bring you down”

“Oh, well I wish they would stop”

“They will you just have to wait them out”

“Thank you Sir, I best get going I’m…crap I’m late”

“Go go, and call me Stan”

“Y/n, bye Mr Stan”

“Well it’s actually Mr Lee but go your late” the older man chuckles.

“I’m going I’m going” she laughs waving at him.

Practically running to school she runs to her class “I’m sorry Miss”

“It’s okay Y/n just make sure it doesn’t happen again”

“It won’t Miss I promise”

Ms Ford was an older teacher who taught maths whether it’s because of her age or because of how long she had been teaching for she simply didn’t care if you was late or not, as long as you didn’t cause any trouble then it was fine.

When the bell rang signalling for it to be lunch she slowly moved towards the bathroom so she could eat, on her way there she saw two of Brock’s friends walking towards her before she had a chance to do anything they grabbed her arms and dragged her backwards, leading her into the cafeteria.

No one blinks an eye or tries to help her out.

She’s shoved onto her knees in front of Brock, she shifts and in the corner of her eye she sees Bucky, Steve and Sam all staring.

“This little freak had the balls to talk back to me this morning and well I can’t let that happen” he told everyone. “Stand the freak up”

She’s roughly pulled up by her arms “did you all know that her dad killed her mom? Or that this little freak was in an orphanage?” He laughs.

“Shut up Brock” she says, mentally slapping herself for talking back.

“Ooh the freak speaks once again. Hey Bucky doesn’t this dog belong to you?” She’s spun around so she has no choice but to look at him, who once again just stares down.

“No? Not going to say anything? Wow some friend you are” Brock chuckles. “Hey guys want to see what she’s hiding under her shirt? My mom was a nurse who had to touch this freak”

Y/n’s eyes widen and she starts to struggle against the hold that the two boys had on her arms. “No no no Brock I’m sorry I’m sorry you don’t have to do this! I’m sorry”

Ignoring her pleads he just smirks at her “hold her steady boys”

“Brock stop!” Steve says shakily from the table.

“Shut up or your next. Stop struggling freak”

“Please s-stop! Please-D-Ducky help! No no no no no please no” she screams out as Brock rips her shirt off leaving her scarred back exposed to nearly the whole school.

“Disgusting isn’t it?” Brock laughs.

The murmurs and laughters are drowned out by the roaring of blood filling her ears, the moment she’s dropped to the ground she wraps her hands over her chest and runs out of the cafeteria and out of the school. Her vision was blurred as she ran faster than she’s ever ran before.

“Y/n-oh my lord, come here darling” an older voice says that she recognised from earlier.

“M-m-Mr Stan”

“I’m not going to hurt you, I’m going to put my coat around you okay?” As soon as the material was around her she collapsed into his arms.

“Darling le-let’s get you into the car and I’ll take you home okay?”

Everything moves in a blur, she doesn’t even realise that Mr Stan pulls up to her house or that he’s knocking on the door talking to her father or that her father comes rushing out of the house.

“Angel, angel come here”

“D-Dada” she cries clinging to him.

Howard lifts her out of the car and takes her into the house calling out for Maria who comes out of the kitchen. He takes her upstairs to her room where he lays her gently on the bed his heart breaking at the way she still clings on to him.

Leaving Maria to help Y/n get dressed and clean her injuries up he heads down the stairs to where Stan was still waiting.

“Come with me Stan” leading the older man into his office “what happened?”

“I met her this morning when she knocked on my door a bully had thrown her bag over my fence, we spoke a little before she left for school”

“A bully? Y/n’s being bullied?”

“So she says Sir”

“Howard, you know this Stan. Anyway carry on”

“Well I was driving home when she ran out into the road clutching…covering her chest. Her top half was naked. I got out and put my coat around her and brought her home”

“D-Did she say anything?”

“No, she just cried”

“Thank you for bringing her home Stan, here here’s some money” Howard pulls out a huge wad of money from the draw of his desk.

“Howard, I don’t want your money son. She’s a sweet girl who doesn’t deserve half of the shit she’s gone through”

“Yo-you know?”

“Well…yes. She was in the newspapers. Just make sure she’s okay for me, I’ll see myself out goodbye Howard”

“Y/n, angel please talk to us” Howard pleads as he sits next to Maria on Y/ns bed.

“I-it doesn’t matter”

“Of course it does sweetie, we need to deal with this” Maria speaks softly.

“I’m a freak! My back is disgusting. I-I should of died when my real dad tried to kill me”

Taken back by her confession Maria clutches her chest with shaky hands, Howard stutters trying to find the right words.

“A-Angel you don’t mean that”

“I do. I’m tired of being bullied, I’ve tried dad to make friends I have I swear but nobody wants to be friends with a freak. I don’t get why they call me names or steal my lunch or push me into things. I hate going to school. I hate Sam. I hate Steve. An-and I hate James. I hate my life, I wish I was dead” a shuddering breath leaves her lips as her whole body trembles.

She didn’t mean to tell them about the bullying or about how she hated her friends because even though they didn’t talk to her or stick up for her she didn’t hate them, they were her only friends.

She definitely didn’t mean to tell them how she wished she was dead.

“Y/n Stark you take that back!” Maria scolds.

“No! And let’s be honest mom the only reason you two adopted me was out of pity and because George probably asked you too just so James could keep me around” her voice raised and shook, mentally scolding herself for saying that because now she had to sit there and watch as the tears gathered in her mommas eyes.

“Is-is that what you really think?”

“It wasn’t pity that we felt when we adopted you Y/n, it was because I genuinely believed that you had a very special place in our family and I still believe that even after all these years. George never asked us to take you in.” Howard speaks.

“I-I-oh momma I’m so sorry! Dada I swear I didn’t mean it” she cries her eyes bouncing from one parent to the next.

“Angel, it’s okay. Oh sweetheart come here” Howard opens his arms waiting for his daughter to climb into them, rubbing his hand up and down her back not flinching or feeling disgusted when he feels the scars under her shirt.

“I’m sorry” she repeats over and over.

“Sweetheart we love you and just because you’re not biologically ours doesn’t make a difference, you are our daughter through and through” Maria says softly wiping the tears that fall onto her cheeks.

“I-I don’t want to go to school anymore momma please don’t make me go back”

“We’ll talk about it later okay? Get some sleep and we’ll talk about everything” Maria promises watching as she nods and climbs back into bed.

A few hours later after Maria had managed to calm down Howard who was quite literally on a war path there was a knock on the door, Maria walked over to the door opening it she saw Sam and Steve standing there with sheepish looks on their faces.

“What are you two doing here?”

“W-we want to see Y/n, is-is she okay?”

“She is now. Where is James?”

“With Dot…”

“Charming. I don’t think Y/n will want to see you tonight, please leave”

“Miss Maria we’re really sorry, please tell Y/n that.”

“I will do. Goodbye boys”

Watching as the boys walk away with their tails in between their legs she shakes her head, she hates turning them away but when it comes to her daughter she’ll do everything to protect her, even if it’s from her friends.

The next day Y/n woke with a pounding headache, the memories of what she had said to her parents made her stomach hurt. She hated herself for making her mom cry, seeing the hurt flash in her parents eyes made her want to burst out crying.

She never wanted her parents to find out that she was being bullied afraid it made her look weak, made her look like she needed them to save her again. She wanted to be strong just like Tony, be the social butterfly just like her brother instead of being social outcast that she was.

Y/n had tried to fit in she really did, she tried to be someone that she wasn’t. She found it hard to be around the other girls who were interested in make up, the latest fashion and boys, none of them things she cared about.

Okay maybe she was interested in boys she noticed them obviously, especially one in particular. Bucky.

But sadly that didn’t matter anymore, not now that he had a girlfriend.

Y/n preferred the simpler things that life had to offer, she never cared for all pretty dresses her mom would get her or all of the expensive things her dad would give her. She preferred getting mud all over her, climbing trees, talking to the animals she encountered. Her hair was always messy and nine out of ten times her hair would have leaves tangled in it. Her clothes would have grass stains on them from where she would either roll around in the grass or from where she would kneel down getting closer to the insects she came upon.

She never truly understood why the other kids called her a freak, maybe she was but that didn’t matter right? She had a heart and feelings and she was just the same as everyone else.

“Angel, James is here to see you” Howard knocks on her bedroom door pulling her out of her trance.

Might as well as get this over and done with.

“Let him in dad”

“I’m just downstairs if you need me angel”

“Okay”

She sits up so she’s leaning against the headboard, twisting her ring that her dad had gotten her when she had gotten an A on a test. She watches as the door handle goes down a little bit and the door comes open revealing her Ducky.

“Hi Bun-Y/n” he says shyly as he shuffles in to the room, his eyes roaming everywhere other than on her.

“Hi”

“H-how are you feeling?”

“You’re joking right?” She scoffs.

“I-I’m sorry about yesterday, I should of done something to stop Brock”

“But you didn’t and I was humiliated in front of the whole entire school.”

“I know. Y-you didn’t come to mine last night and when I found out that Sam and Steve was turned away by your mom I kind of gotten worried”

“You expected me to show up after none of you said anything to stop Brock? After you didn’t wait for me at lunch or how you and the boys went to Lloyds without me?”

Rubbing the back of his neck he shifted on the spot “well yeah, we’re friends Bu-Y/n”

“You can’t even say the name you gave me when you was seven. Why is that?”

“Dot doesn’t like it”

“Dot being your girlfriend?”

“Yeah…”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you had one?”

“Be-because I didn’t want you to get jealous”

“You thought I would get jealous?”

“Well yeah, you are aren’t you?”

“Give me a second, just wait there” she says as she stands up on shaky legs, moving around him she heads downstairs to the living room where her parents sat “momma, dada can I please swear? I won’t do it again I promise”

“Of course princess” Howard grins before Maria could say anything.

She runs back upstairs and walks around Bucky who still stands there. “Are you fucking out of your mind? You honestly thought I was jealous? I would have been happy for you!”

“Did you just ask your parents if you could swear?” Bucky grins finding it amusing.

“Don’t grin at me Ducky, I swear to God I will hit you!”

“You can’t call me that anymore Y/n, Dot hates it especially after you called it me yesterday”

“Fuck Dot! I’ve been your friend since I was six years old Ducky! You want me to be different with you now that you have a girlfriend?”

“Bunny-shit Y/n. Please just stop calling me it okay it’s embarrassing, we’re to old now to keep calling each other them silly nicknames”

“I-we-what? Duc-“

“Y/n.”

“Fine. James are you really going to be choosing her someone you’ve been dating for all of five minutes over me? Someone you’ve know for years?”

“Yes.”

“W-what?”

“I’m choosing her over you.”

“A-are we no longer friends?”

“Will you grow up and stop acting like a freak?” He says instantly slamming his mouth shut, regret seeping into his veins when he sees her the pain flash across her eyes.

“What did you just call me?”

“I-I didn’t mean it-“

“What did you just call me James”

“Bun-“

“I’m not going to fucking ask again James!”

“A freak” he gulps.

“Fuck you. Get the fuck out of my house and out of my fucking life!”

“Bun-“

“You’re not allowed to call me that anymore, remember? Your bitch of a girlfriend won’t like it oh and we’re not fucking friends anymore! Now leave!”

“Don’t call Dot a-“

“She’s a bitch. A big fat stinking bitch! And guess what James, so are you.”

“Brock’s right, you are a freak. A freak with no friends. And guess what Y/n, I never wanted to be your friend I just felt sorry for you. Your father beat you and killed your mother so of course I felt sorry for you, did you really think I wanted to be friends with you? News flash I didn’t!” He shouts, once he calmed down from his outburst he struggles to breathe “Y/n I’m-I’m sor-“

“I hate you. If you don’t leave right now I’ll get my dad up here, I’m not joking James. Get out I hate you so much I can’t believe I actually thought I loved you. Now fuck off.”

“I-I’m sorry”

“Shove your sorry up your arse and fuck right off bye bye”

She turns her back on him and waiting until she heard him leave, she had always thought that he became her friend because he felt sorry for her but she didn’t want to believe it, now she knew the truth she didn’t know what to do with herself.

Hearing the front door shut she burst out crying, she fell to her knees clutching her chest. She felt her heart had been ripped out of her chest and stomped on a million times.

“Oh my sweet baby, it’s okay I’ve got you” Maria hold her daughter as she breaks down.

“M-Momma it hurts”

“I know it does sweetheart. Let it all out baby”

“I-I don’t want to be here anymore momma”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to go to a private school like you and dada said befo-before I went to school with them”

Maria looks over at Howard who stands at the doorway with his jaw clenched so tightly that Maria thought he was going to shatter his teeth.

“Are you sure angel?”

“Yes I’m sure dada, please I won’t ask for anything else ever again!”

“I’ll set it up angel”

Bucky had no idea that when he woke up that morning that he was going to lose his best friend but he only had himself to blame.

He had lost the most important person in his life all because he fucked up.

He had said the most vilest things to her which was not in any way true.

He had lost his Bunny.

Tags: @cjand10 @unaxv @mcira @bisexualnikkisixx @kneelforloki @kandis-mom @sagebarness @sandyruston @scott-loki-barnes @nikkivillar @saltedcoffeescotch @scentedharmonymiracle @examinarei @sarcastickiddo @sadboiabby @unholyhuntress @8crazy-freak8 @ijustneedpopcorn @moonbeampillgoth @imcinnamoons @elmo-1066 @violetwinterwidow01 @suz7days @adoredire @ozwriterchick @randomrosie01 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @emerald-writes @justafangir1 @sibsteria @spencerreidisagorgman @sapphirebarnes @bruher

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barns x y/n #Through The Years #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #marvel fic #Bucky Barnes series #bucky barnes angst #bucky series #bucky Barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #James barnes #james barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes friends to lovers

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my-castles-crumbling · 11 months ago

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couch - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 279

James and his friends were laid out in the Common Room, relaxing after a long night of essay writing and textbook reading. Sirius and Remus were busy debating about the pros and cons of their newest prank idea, Sirius stretched out across Remus's lap with his feet nudging James's thigh.

James, however, was not paying attention. He was too busy thinking about Regulus.

Sirius had been surprisingly alright with James's infatuation, though he'd warned the other boy that his patience and support only went so far. So James tried to keep his thoughts to himself. Sometimes, though, he figured that Sirius at least had an idea about where his brain went when his mouth stopped going a mile a minute. Ah, well.

"....and then they'll all drink the potion," Sirius blabbered on to Remus, who was nodding enthusiastically. "And bam! Pink hair!"

Hair. Regulus had nice hair. Not to short, not too long. So shiny and curly, and James often wanted to run his fingers through it. Once, when Regulus had been in a particularly good mood, he'd allowed James to take a stray strand of hair and return it behind his ear, their eyes locking and heat building between them. James swallowed, remembering the way he'd just barely resisted connecting their lips, pushing the other boy against the cool stone wall, devouring his mouth with his own. Merlin, he loved Regulus's hair.

"....so I think it'd work. What do you think, Prongs?" Sirius continued, looking over to James.

"....Reg would look good with pink hair," James mumbled dreamily, eyes glazed still lost in thought.

With a kick to his thigh, he found himself violently shoved off the couch.

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unformula1 · 1 year ago

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hugs, pouting and kisses (LN4 x reader)

valentines day series

Lando pouting, him regretting it. You kiss him. “You’re messing up my hair!” He says before pouting and crossing his arms. It makes you smile more, seeing him like this, it’s adorable. He turns his head away from looking at you. masterlist || word count: 644 || valentines’ day countdown: -5 pairing: lando norris x reader

“I love you.” Lando says, snuggling his head into your personal space.

“Mhm, well I love you more.” You reply, patting his fluffy curly hair.

“No you don’t.” His voice is slightly muffled as his head dives into your chest.

“You’re particularly touchy today.” You chuckle.

You can’t lie. You love it. You love it when Lando just takes away whatever definition of personal space there is and holds tightly onto you.

You hug him back, the positions are awkward but you don’t care, Lando’s touch feels surreal.

His head slowly falls onto your lap and he looks up to the ceiling, beaming from ear to ear. His smile shows all his teeth and it looks innocent and perfect.

You smile at him and stroke his face, ruffling his hair a little. It makes him chuckle, which sends your heart wild every time.

“You’re messing up my hair!” He says before pouting and crossing his arms.

It makes you smile more, seeing him like this, it’s adorable. He turns his head away from looking at you.

You kiss his cheek and he turns back to face you. He doesn’t turn back and continues to pout. You see a small grin sneak its way onto his face but Lando fights to keep it in.

You shrug and lift his head off your lap, getting up from the couch.

A look of horror fills Lando’s face as you stand up and stretch. His eyes widen and his pout disappears. He quickly grips onto your waist and holds onto it, pulling you back, not letting you walk away.

“Don’t go. I’m sorry.” He says, tightly gripping onto your waist.

You give him silence as a response.

“I’m sorrrrrry…” He drags the ‘sorry’, his grip doesn’t loosen, “I won’t pout anymore. I promise!”

You continue to ignore him, taking one step away from the couch.

It doesn’t go well for you as Lando violently pulls you back, making you fall back onto the couch, the cushions breaking your fall. Sometimes you forget how strong Lando is. You turn to face Lando, who looks horrified.

“I didn’t mean to pull that hard.” He looks panicked, as if he’s pissed you off, “I’m sorry.”

You try to keep a straight face but this is too cute. A smile breaks through and the laughs you’ve been holding back finally come out.

Lando’s body stiffens up, his face filled with confusion.

You shift yourself closer to Lando and hug him.

His body relaxes slightly, “You’re not mad?”

You shake your head, “How could I? You look so adorable.”

He smiles and blushes, “Really?”

Your hug tightens, “Mhm.”

He hugs you back. You kiss the top of his forehead which causes his face to flush bright pink.

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

“I love you.” He says, snuggling with you.

“Well, I love you more.” You reply.

“Debatable.”

He chuckles and you find yourself instinctively looking at his lips. Your gaze is filled with soft romance.

It looks…perfect.

You don’t hold anything back as you lunge at him. He falls backward onto the couch and you gently kiss his lips.

He kisses back.

It’s messy, but it’s tender.

“Okay maybe you do love me more.” He says as your lips pull away.

You smile.

“I know.” You reply, licking your lips.

Lando lets out a rough sounding ugh and pulls your face back in, kissing your lips. You instinctively kiss back. It's definitely passionate on his part.

Your hands run through his hair, messing it all up.

When the both of you are done, you get off him and he sits up. Both of you lock gazes for a second and it’s silent around you. It’s you and him, you and Lando Norris.

“Still mad I messed your hair up?” You ask mischievously.

He shakes his head and lays on your lap. You stroke him.

It’s perfect.

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noapollegies · 2 months ago

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Random Jimmy Headcanons

and some bonus pre-canon Jimmy + Curly Dynamics ig

Is younger than Curly, but he looks so much older than he actually is because of stress/drugs/the haggard and irritated expression on his face

Has a habit of chewing his nails, or just randomly picking at his teeth with his nails. Not in front of other people, though he forgets not to do it in front of Curly. Jimmy chews on them until they're all torn and one of them is bleeding, and then doesn't chew on them much again until they're decently long. He doesn't maintain his nails in any other way.

Doesn't bother to match his socks. Too much effort. In fact, they just are all in one wrinkly pile in his drawers.

Smokes cigarettes when on Earth, and the nicest thing he owns is a fancy refillable lighter that Curly bought him for his birthday years and years ago

Curly bought it because Jimmy was a chronic lighter thief at parties and waited to give it to him until his birthday to avoid having to talk about it. Curly has had several lighters stolen by Jimmy, but they're all shitty disposable ones anyway.

Extra jumpy, unable to sleep, and more distracted during the beginning of any long haul because he refuses to quit smoking and just suffers through withdrawal symptoms every time. Thinks using nicotine patches/gum to help manage the symptoms would make him seem weak.

Actually somewhat more nicer during this period, because he doesn't have the energy to pay attention to anyone else. Maybe 'nice' is the wrong word. Not actively antagonistic.

Prefers verbal confrontations rather than physical ones. He'll fight dirty and mean, but it is more of an ego boost to rip someone apart with his words, because he didn't even need to put in the effort of touching them.

Doesn't drink much, overall. He will drink a little to seem normal at social events, but would much rather smoke some weed or cigarettes to relax. Jimmy is an angry, violent drunk like his father before him who smashes things and is even more blatant about picking fights and trying to get someone to try and take a swing at him

Has done so in front of Curly on Earth. Curly does not stop him because a) Jimmy would be pissed at him later b) he did not want a flying elbow to the face and c) if Curly let Jimmy get that drunk, chances are that Curly was in a poor mood himself, and contents himself with watching Jimmy take his anger on someone else

Curly doesn't want Jimmy to self destruct but sometimes it is tiring being his friend.

Actually gives really good compliments, especially to Curly. It's the right level of begrudging respect from someone with his attitude, and it's both purposeful and entirely accidental. Does it just infrequently enough to make it seem like one could actually earn Jimmy's actual fondness and respect consistently, if they just tried hard enough, if they just listened to what he needs a bit more, if they were a little less selfish and unforgiving of his behavior

Not a fan of dessert or sweet things. He didn't grow up eating them for anything except special occasions, and still sees them as a pointless indulgence. He spitefully eats whatever sweet things Curly buys him because Curly should be spending his money on Jimmy, it's what Jimmy deserves.

Curly has misinterpreted this as Jimmy really, really loving sweet things. Curly himself doesn't even like sweet things, either, he prefers sour things if he must have dessert. However, when they go out and grab dinner, or Curly is buying for a group that includes Jimmy, he buys some for Jimmy because it seems to make him happy and a happy Jimmy is a quiet and untroublesome Jimmy.

So they're just two guys, sharing a slice of cake, neither of them particularly enjoying themselves.

One of them is enjoying the fact that the other is not enjoying himself. The other finds comfort in it.

At least they're having a shitty time together?

#mouthwashing headcanon #jimmy mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #jimcurly #< because that's the intended audience for the most part heheh #curly is Not as bad as jimmy but he deserves to be a little bad #as a treat

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skzdarlings · 6 months ago

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the kingsguard ; jisung x reader ; part iii

pairing: han jisung/reader summary: You are a queen. He is a kingsguard - a member of a holy order that vows to defend the king in the name of the gods. They forsake all earthly goods and swear a vow of chastity to avoid worldly temptation. When he stands in as proxy for the royal wedding, all those vows are tested.

content info: reader is described with curly hair, mention of curves.

content warnings: a royal affair between queen reader and guard jisung. the king is a violently abusive man and continues to disrespect reader in this part. this chapter has an additional content warning for violence, assasination attempts and explicit sexual content: guided masturbation, mirror action, and skirting the breaking of chastity vows.

word count: 13000 words.

As promised, rest comes an hour later. Some stay in the woods with the wagons while the king and his party make for the nearby village.

The edge of the forest slopes downhill, the bustling city centre at its base. Civilians gather to watch the arrival of the royal retinue. Most villagers duck out of the king’s path well before he reaches them. You suppose the party might have stopped at this village on the journey in and you can believe the king did not leave a kind impression on its denizens.

You struggle with your skirts on the steepest slope. Because your husband pays you no mind, Jisung helps you, swishing back the length of his own robes as he climbs onto a boulder to reach you. You thank him, placing your hands on his shoulders while he clasps your waist. He swings you down on the path.

No sooner have you stepped down does a little voice ask, “Is that the queen? Why is her hair down?”

You look over. Some children are gathered nearby, staring at you with wide, curious eyes. A mother scolds the loud one, putting a hand over the child’s mouth.

“Your Majesty, I’m sorry,” the woman says, bowing deeper than necessary.

“It’s all right,” you say. You smile, maintaining some distance as the children seem skittish. You drop into a crouch to look at them. “Yes, I am the queen,” you say. “I’m sorry I’m bit dishevelled. The road is very bumpy and I was quite uncomfortable, but I am very happy to be in your village now.”

When they determine you are not going to lash out at them, the children get closer. Soon they are all yammering away, each of them wanting your attention for an introduction or story.

“Can you have lunch with us?” a little boy asks. He looks back at the woman. “Mama, can the queen have lunch with us?”

“Oh, I would love to,” you say, smiling to placate the very startled woman. “But my guard needs to eat too and we shouldn’t keep the others waiting.”

“He can come too!” a little girl says.

A little boy goes right up to Jisung, his eyes wide with awe. Though Jisung is not especially tall, the boy looks at him as though he is a towering titan.

“Whoa,” the boy says. “Are you a real kingsguard?”

“Aha, I am,” Jisung says. “Are you?”

“Me?” the boy asks. “I’m not a kingsguard!”

The children all squeal with laughter while Jisung grins down at them. You find yourself smiling too, surprised by how easily and naturally it comes.

“Is that your sword?” one of the children asks, tugging on his black robe but eying the silver sword hilt. “Can I touch it?”

“Ah, maybe no pointy objects,” Jisung says, giggling nervously.

“What’s the delay?” Chan strides over. The king has already entered a nearby inn to eat and drink. A few kingsguards linger outside, minding the door.

Remembering your actual place, your smile fades. You stand and smooth the creases of your skirt. You remember the king insulting your appearance and making comments about weight, so you are not particularly keen to sit down and eat a meal with him. Anxiety swallows your hunger.

“We were invited to lunch,” Jisung says, laughing. He looks from Chan to you, his grin faltering when he sees your solemn expression.

Chan notices too. His thoughtful gaze flicks between you and the children. After some deliberation, he nods.

“Right,” he says. “The king is occupied anyway. Would you like to spend time in the village instead?”

Your heart brightens. You nod.

“I’ll send Jeongin for extra security,” Chan says. He shoots Jisung a stern look. “Protect the queen.”

“Always,” Jisung says, hand over his heart as he bows.

It is just his duty, but that brightness in your heart turns incandescent with joy.

You sit with several villagers at tables in the square. There is more food than you can reasonably eat as several different families jump at the opportunity to feed the queen, at least once they realize you are more polite than the king. You easily eat your fill.

Jeongin and Jisung stand behind you, eating their own food as they pace and supervise. At one point, they agree to let the children see their swords. They even conduct a short bout of fencing while their little crowd oohs-and-awes.

You chat with the local craftsmen and some working women. One of them makes a less than flattering comment about the king’s manners. It garners Jeongin’s keen eye. When the kingsguard looks over, the villager ducks his head in shame, but he does not retract the comment either.

You do not say anything, merely remark that you are proud to be chosen by the gods and you are serious about the responsibility they have bestowed upon you.

“I care about this land very much,” you say.

“Well, we’re all just glad someone at the capital does,” a worker says.

“The gods have chosen a queen we can be proud of,” says another.

You are better at offering kind words than receiving them. You demure and look away. When your gaze wanders, you see Jisung already looking at you. He nods, offering you a smile so warm and kind that it leaves you even more flustered than before.

Lunch ends and the king returns. The villagers wave until you crest the hill, then it is a quiet trek to the horses and carriages. The group in the woods have packed away their things too. Everyone is ready to depart.

The king once again disappears without acknowledging you. Jisung helps you onto the horse, holding it steady while you mount, then he swings up behind you. A little girl gave you a ribbon to tie your hair, but he still gently brushes the low tail aside. He is wearing black riding gloves, the leather up to his knuckles, his fingertips bare as they leave goosebumps on your nape.

It does not take long to get back on the road. This path dips towards the sea and the great cliffs, so this is the last city for a while as the forest trail winds uphill. The next village is a day away. It lays on the other side of the descent, so camp will be constructed in the woods tonight.

You are not sure if you will be sharing a tent with the king. He claimed he would not have you until back in the capital, but that was before his mistress ran off. You shudder, imagining him taking those frustrations out on you. You may have to put that sleeping draft to use sooner than later.

“Are you cold?” Jisung asks.

Before you can answer, he presses his hand gently on the curve of your hip, guiding you back, closer to him. He is just offering his body warmth, mistaking your shiver for a chill. You remind yourself that he is a kingsguard. He has sworn a vow of chastity that he takes pride in maintaining. You are the silly one, starved for a kind touch, who feels the burning imprint of his palm long enough after he stops.

The journey continues. Songs are sung to pass the time, though Chan throws a look over his shoulder when Jisung starts a relatively dirty one. Jisung presses his lips together, smothering a laugh.

You suspect his relentlessly goofy shenanigans are for your benefit. He keeps trying to make you laugh and it keeps working. You find yourself giggling helplessly into your hands on more than one occasion. He seems determined to wring an embarrassingly loud guffaw out of you.

The joviality does not last.

No one is expecting the arrow that flies straight through the window into the queen’s carriage. You and Jisung are a few feet behind it and he rears back, swift but startled, the horse baying its own agitation. You also yelp, clutching the saddle as he steadies the horse.

Minho was close so he also rears back, settling faster without the extra weight.

“Arrow!” he shouts. It starts a cascade of action, the guards shouting orders back and forth to each other.

You do not really hear them. Your heart pounds from the sudden jolt, but it worsens as you stare at the carriage. If you had still been in there, that arrow could have pierced a leg, shoulder, or even your throat.

“Jisung…” you say, voice wobbling.

He lays a protective hand across your middle, all his silly theatricality gone, replaced with a sterner determination. His eyes dart around the treeline. His moves the horse just in time for another arrow to whizz past.

Chaos unfolds as a veritable horde pours out of the treeline, charging the royal train.

You never fathomed being at the centre of such violent mania. You were always safe and sheltered at home with bandits and assassins relegated to the world of stories. You fantasized you would be brave under duress, but the reality of such quick-moving danger is very different than a slow-told story.

You are terrified, especially after two close calls, though you have no time to consider the coincidence. You are too lost in panic, clutching your chest like you can restrain your racing heart.

The kingsguards take formation to combat the onslaught. Jisung opts to retreat, prioritizing your safety, especially when another arrow flies your way. He is quick dodging it, racing further down the line.

Chan seamlessly takes down an adversary while shouting, “Get the queen to higher ground! Hyunjin! Go with them! Fuck, I wish Felix was here. Go!”

While Chan barks orders, you look at the man he cut down. Even though these bandits are the instigators, it is still a vile sight. You have never seen a man die under such violence. Your panicked heart seems to stutter and stop and start again.

Jisung is unphased, quick to follow Chan’s orders. He turns the horse and gallops towards the opposite treeline. Hyunjin comes thundering after you.

All the kingsguards are armed with an array of weapons but it is fairly obvious which tools are favoured by which guards. Hyunjin has the most arrows and the most elaborate bow. You wonder if Felix was the other bowman, hence Chan’s exclamation.

They race you through the trees. You can only trust they know their way, seeking higher ground where they can defend you until the horde has been dispatched.

You look back and shriek. Some bandits are giving chase on horseback. You have never moved this quickly in all your life but it still feels too slow.

“Hyunjin,” Jisung says, loud but calm.

They criss-cross their horses, racing past each other. With rapid-fire precision, Hyunjin drops his reins, seizes his bow, and fires a shot behind him. It knocks the closest bandit off his horse. The other three fall back and continue their pursuit at a safer distance.

Hyunjin takes his reins. The horses cross each other again, making it difficult for anyone to get a clean shot at you.

All you can do is hold on for dear life, keeping your eyes ahead. The guards race uphill. Once situated at an advantage, Hyunjin dismounts and takes position, firing an arrow without delay. The bandits below duck and take cover. You curl towards Jisung when they fire an arrow back.

“Take her further in,” Hyunjin says, lining up another shot. “I have this.”

Jisung continues into the woods. You are very far from the trail now, surrounded by clusters of tightly packed trees. Weaving in and out slows your pace.

After a time, Jisung eases his horse to a stop, giving you both a moment to catch your breath.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

His hands are thoughtless with his concern. More intimately than a guard should, his comforting hand settles on the back of your neck, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle. The other pats your side to inspect any injuries.

“I’m fine,” you say, though your shaking voice betrays you. “Against all odds.”

“Against all odds,” he repeats with an airy laugh.

You let out a laugh too, halfway to a sob, an exhale of emotion.

You look at him. You are curled right into him, his hand on your nape, the other wrapped protectively around your waist. Your heart is a wild animal, frantic in your chest, and adrenaline fills your whole body with warmth. When you meet his gaze, that warmth gathers low. It finds all that tangled anxiety and loosens every knot.

His thumb slows. The arm around your waist lifts, just a bit, his hand hovering. He seems to realize you are too close but his own adrenaline holds him. He does not let go, though he knows he should, instead staring back at you, his dark eyes running all over your face.

“Your eyes are so—” he starts then stops. His face contorts with more terror than it showed during the attack.

“Pardon?” you say.

He swallows. You watch the bob of his throat.

“I mean—” he starts, but then he hears something. The softness in his gaze hardens as he whips his head up, catching sight of different bandits approaching on foot.

“They’re after me, aren’t they?” you say, thinking of the arrow in that carriage, the men on horseback. You are not sure if they intend to kill you or ransom you, but it is obvious they are less interested in the wagons than you.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jisung says, seizing the reins. “They won’t have you.”

He is faster on horseback but the trees are so dense that it is still slow-moving. The bandits on foot gain speed. One lets loose an arrow. Jisung dodges it, but the next arrow flies so close that you feel the wind as it breezes past your face.

“Fuck,” Jisung says. His arm tightens around your waist, so firm it steals your breath. “Hold on,” he says. “We need to dismount quickly.”

His idea of a quick dismount is essentially throwing himself off the horse. It surprises the bandits but it also surprises you, wrenching a scream as you fly towards the forest floor. He keeps his grip and yanks you into his arms.

“Run,” he says, taking hold of your hand. “And get behind me when I say.”

You run through the trees, holding your skirts in one hand and his hand in the other. He is much faster but your adrenaline propels you. You already anticipated sore legs from so long on horseback, but you are going to be in agony from so much running. Of course, that is provided you survive that long.

“Jisung,” you say in a warning voice. The treeline ends up ahead but it does not open into a clearing; it opens to the edge of a cliff, looming over the sea. You can smell the brine before you see the blue beyond the branches.

Jisung does not seem surprised. He barrels right towards it. When the edge nears, so close you can hear the ocean crashing into the cliff face below, he spins on his heel. Somewhere in the swirl of black cloth, he draws his sword, twisting it in the air and catching it as swiftly. He braces himself in a fighting stance.

“Get behind me,” he says. “And maybe close your eyes.”

His first order is easy, your shaking legs happy to halt. The second order is more complicated because you cannot help but watch as he runs straight towards the three adversaries. Your own adrenaline peaks. You want to chase after him and somehow help, but your remaining sense wrestles that instinct back under control. There is nothing you can do.

He does not need help anyway. Someone charges him but he disarms the man in two short moves. You do not even see the moment Jisung reaches back, but suddenly there is a knife in his other hand and he sends it hurtling towards the farthest opponent. It thunks into the man’s chest and the spurt of blood startles you out of your frozen panic. You finally obey his second command and close your eyes, covering them with your hands for good measure.

You have many skills but swordplay is not one of them. You do not like the sight of gore. You never imagined needing a stomach for it. Is this my life now? you think, trembling to the sound of metal on metal.

Through all your fear, there is one constant reassurance: Jisung will protect you. You do not doubt him for a moment.

When someone touches your shoulder, you do not scream, knowing it is him before you open your eyes.

Those familiar brown eyes gaze back at you. You release a long held breath in an embarrassing sputter, eyes filling with tears.

“It’s okay,” he says, cupping your cheek, the leather glove warm against your skin.

You are shaking with adrenaline, your hands still raised. You look behind him and see three bodies strewn across the forest floor.

He moves his head to block the view. He carefully takes your quivering hands. He squeezes one gently.

“I know, it’s a lot,” he says. “The first time is the worst. You’ll be okay.”

The first time. There will be more. Of course there will be more. Your shaking worsens with the thought.

You cannot find your voice. You lift your eyes and meet his gaze, imploring with a glance and nothing more. His lower lip wobbles with an unsteady breath, his brow furrowed. His eyes are deeply sympathetic.

He seems to battle some internal thought before he shakes his head and surrenders. He brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles. His other hand goes behind your head then he pulls you towards him, wrapping you in a tight embrace.

You grab him around the middle, burying your face in his neck. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly against his steadier body, but his relative calm tempers you. Some of your hair has fluttered loose from the ribbon, unsurprisingly, and he smooths it down.

“It’s okay,” he says.

Your shaking slows but your heart still races, all that anxiety twisting again. You keep your arms around him, lifting your head as you ask, “Are there more?”

As if in reply, there is a disturbance in the trees. Jisung spins and draws his sword again. He sweeps you behind him, blocking your body with his own.

Hyunjin emerges from the trees on horseback, a hand on his bow and the other clutching his reins. Jisung exhales then curses, sheathing his sword.

“You missed all the fun,” Jisung says as Hyunjin rides past the bodies. “Were you fixing your hair?”

“Funny,” Hyunjin replies dryly. “Where’s your horse?”

“She’ll find her way,” Jisung says. “Are there more of them?”

“There might be,” Hyunjin says. He dismounts and walks up to Jisung. They clasp hands but do not linger, both scrutinizing the forest, their gazes calculating. “I don’t like this,” Hyunjin says. “That wasn’t a robbery. They were after—” He glances at you but does not say it out loud.

You look at Hyunjin, at the long hair that has come loose from his tie, the sweat along his forehead, the sharpness of his gaze. You remember him getting catty with Seungmin, his haughty expression and pointed glance. That playful agitation was very different from his expression now. Rage burns behind his dark eyes.

“Whoever planned this,” he says, bitingly, “is targeting the gods, as far as I’m concerned. And I don’t care who he thinks he is.” He swings his sword free just to stab it into the ground. “And I don’t care what Chan has to say about it. This an offense too fucking far. She’s the queen.”

“I know,” Jisung says, softer but just as thoughtful. He looks at you, pity in his eyes. “It’s not right at all.”

“Fuck this.” Hyunjin yanks his sword out of the ground and sheathes it again.

That anxiety turns to lead inside you, your stomach sinking. You want to curl up on the ground and stay there. Even Hyunjin has deduced the attack was too targeted to be a coincidence. He is trying to sound vague but you hear the underlying accusation in his thoughts.

Someone wanted to kill you and someone was probably the king.

It makes sense. The union has been sealed. The money has been granted. The only thing that would stop him from killing you is a sense of honour and responsibility, but this king has neither. Of course he would try and eliminate you, but he could not do it himself. The king is a font of power, a representative of the gods on earth, but he is bound to his own holy vows. The queen is chosen by the gods. He cannot kill you himself as that would be an unholy offense.

No, if he wanted you dead, he would have someone else do it, and he would never consult the kingsguard on the matter, knowing their holy order would be vehemently opposed. The kingsguard protects the king. It also metes his punishment if he betrays the gods. It is why their own oath-breaking is so serious a crime.

Before further accusations can be made, distant shouts carry through the woods. It is not the kingsguard, nor any of the king’s men.

Jisung unsheathes his sword. Hyunjin draws his bow.

“Get the queen out of here,” Hyunjin says.

“Where are we supposed to go?” you ask, shoulders already shaking as the voices get louder.

Jisung turns around. His eyes dart right past you but there is nothing there except the expanse of sea. He stares at the open water, shimmering under the afternoon sun.

He looks at Hyunjin. Hyunjin seems to understand him without any exchange of words.

“You’re crazy, but I guess you’ve had worse ideas,” Hyunjin says and sighs.

“As usual, Hyunjin, your confidence in me is inspiring.”

“I miss when we hated each other.”

“I love you too, man,” Jisung says. “We’ll meet you at the inn. Tell Chan we took a shortcut.”

Hyunjin snorts and shakes his head. The guards part ways. Hyunjin swings onto his horse and rides towards the noise while Jisung sheathes his sword and sprints back to you.

You take his hands the second he offers them, needing the comfort. He squeezes yours tightly.

“You trust me, right?” he says.

“Trust you? Of course. Why do you ask like that?” you say hesitantly. “You’re not about to suggest something crazy, are you?”

“What?” His eyebrows jump. “Crazy? Me? Of course not. I mean, if it makes you feel better, I don’t have to say out loud—” He looks sideways again.

A sea bird calls as it swings over the water.

“You are not going to suggest we go over the cliff.” Your voice shatters on a high-pitched squeak.

“If anyone else comes this way, they won’t assume we went over!” he answers quickly. “They’ll assume we went farther into the woods and look for us there! It’s perfect!”

“Yes!” you say. “They will assume that! Because that is the sensible direction to go, not over a cliff into the sea! Over the cliff! Over the cliff!”

While you rant, he removes his leather riding gloves. You fall silent when he touches you, his bare palm curved around the slope of your jaw. He guides your face to his so he can look at you, really look at you, his eyes intense.

“Trust me,” he says. “I swear on my life and my honour as a kingsguard. My queen. Please. I won’t let any harm come to you.”

Those intense eyes first found you in a room full of people who looked right past you. They have found you again and again.

You exhale.

“Yes,” you say, scarcely more than a breath. “All right. I trust you, Han Jisung.”

“Hold my hand,” he says, drawing you close. “We’re high but not fatally high. It shouldn’t hurt but we are going to break the surface quickly. Whatever happens, don’t let go of my hand.”

“I won’t,” you say. “I promise.”

He squeezes your hand. You squeeze back.

You never had a fear of heights but maybe that was relative. Taking a running leap off a cliff is certainly one way to find out for sure.

It seems feasible with your eyes ahead, the sea rolling out in a vast carpet before you. Then your feet leave the ground and it feels as though the cosmos shift and the entire universe drops out under you.

It lasts an eternity but also seconds. You break the surface quickly, just like he said, with a crash more forceful than the white waves on the cliff-face. It feels like a shatter in the fabric of reality. For half a heartbeat, you think it killed you, the force so impossibly brutal.

Then it settles. You open your eyes underwater. As promised, Jisung did not let go of your hand even though you landed heavier and faster, weighing more especially with your dress.

Your dress.

You try kicking towards him. He is pulling your arm but it only draws him deeper, sinking with you. His black robes swirl around him, the material light and loose in the water, but your dress turns into a silk anchor.

An instinctive cry leaves your lips, a desperate attempt to say his name, but it bursts in a flurry of bubbles.

You grab at him when he kicks down towards you. He guides your arms around his neck. You cling to him, not thinking sensibly but with the frantic desperation of a dying animal.

You do not pray to the silent gods. You put all your faith in Jisung.

He does not let you down.

Jisung tears the back of your dress, ripping apart the seams with his bare hands. You feel the threads pucker and pop, the cloying material giving way around your neck. You help him, pulling at the neck and pushing at the sleeves. You get the bodice down your hips, then the rest falls away. It sinks without hindrance. You are left in a white shift, long but light, so freeing that you can practically taste the air.

Jisung grabs you. You cling to him. Together, you kick towards the surface. You shoot through it with a gasping breath, coughing and sputtering.

He shakes his head, whipping water droplets everywhere, then smooths his hair back in a single sweep. The blackness of his hair looks even darker when wet, an obsidian tinted blue in the sunlight and seawater. You think it is ridiculous how he cannot look bad even when soaking wet, while you feel like a drowned rat, your copious amounts of hair plastered to your face.

“Are you okay?” he asks, laughing in spite of himself.

You splash him and he laughs some more.

“If that wasn’t your worst idea ever,” you say, “I’m not sure I want to know what was.”

“No, probably not,” he says, still giggling as he paddles towards you.

You duck underwater to smooth back your hair. When you surface, he is even closer than before. The flow of the water pushes your bodies together. There is very little between you, black and white material so thin you can feel his body heat. You are not sure if that racing heart is his or yours.

Your hands find his shoulders instinctively. He keeps his arms out, treading water, keeping you both afloat.

“I—” he starts then stops, staring into your face. He releases a breath. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get to the shore.”

You emerge from the water, drenched and dripping, your white shift not only translucent but clinging to every curve. You notice first and a fiery storm of embarrassment ignites inside you. You wrap an arm over your ample chest and try to tug the material away from other sensitive places.

Jisung has his back to you. He is wringing out his black robes as best he can. When he does see you, his eyes widen, then he slips on nothing and faceplants in the sand. The tiny grains stick to his wet body like a second skin.

It makes you feel a little better about your own state, watching as he lifts his sand-covered face off the ground. You laugh and also apologize for laughing as he gets back in the water to wash it all off.

“Um, right,” he says, still scrubbing his face as he marches ashore. He does not look at you, glaring ahead at nothing while pushing his hair back. “Just… just wait.”

He gathers the hem of his robe to squeeze it dry. He determinedly keeps his eyes off you, muttering what sounds like a prayer.

You are about to make a comment, a joke at your own expense, when he abruptly strips off a layer.

Your eyes widen as you stare at his back.

It is true that Jisung is not as bulky as Chan or Changbin or even Jeongin. His build is a more slender athleticism. Those robes nonetheless concealed more than you thought. His under layer is far more revealing, a sleeveless black shirt and pants. His shoulders have a fair breadth, sturdy and strong, and his torso tapers down to a slim waist. His exposed arms move with a subtle musculature that catches you off guard.

You already considered him objectively handsome, but the starkness of his sudden masculinity has your knees knocking. A regular man seems to emerge from the robes of the kingsguard and that is somehow more intimidating. You feel your own exposure more keenly.

Jisung folds the material over his fists and wrings it tightly. It makes the soft slope of his lean biceps strain.

You drop your gaze too. It makes for a comical effort when he tries to pass you the robe when neither of you is looking.

In the end, he turns around, holding the robe to block his face. You laugh shyly and step into it. He wraps it around your shoulders and you pull your arms through. Even though it is also wet, it does a better job of preserving your modesty.

“Thank you,” you say. You meet his gaze and say sincerely, “For everything.”

He laughs a short laugh. It sounds more disbelieving than truly humorous.

He tilts his head as he looks at you, like there is something he does not understand. It makes your stomach twist and your heart skip. Even when he caught a glimpse of your body, it did not feel as raw as this regard. He looks at you and he sees through to something far deeper than skin and much more vulnerable.

“You know,” he finally says, “the king has never thanked me for anything.”

You do not know what to say to that. You hold the neck of the borrowed robe closed, fidgeting with it. He seems to remember himself and he shakes his head. He looks away, towards the trees that line the beach.

“Ahh,” he says. “It’s fine. The king shouldn’t have to thank me. Neither do you. It’s my duty.”

“It’s not because I have to,” you say defensively. “I want to. Jisung, I want you to know that it wasn’t meaningless. Everything you’ve done – I appreciate it. I appreciate you.”

He looks at you again, his face a storm of different emotions. The pinch of his brow looks almost sad. It makes you want to reach out and touch his face, smooth out his features under your fingers.

He steps back before you can.

“My Queen,” he says, bowing. He does not look at you when he stands, strutting past, heading down the beach. “Come on,” he says. “It’s still a couple hours to the city from here.”

You walk on foot to the next city, the one that will take the retinue a day to reach. Going over the cliff is certainly faster than travelling through the forest path, though obviously a less sensible approach. You entertain yourself with thoughts of the king’s carriage careening over the cliff.

It is a warm summer’s day so your wet clothes do not bother you. It feels rather refreshing. With the king far behind you, you can breathe a little easier.

You and Jisung amble along the beach. There is an awkward silence at first. Though he was chatty on horseback, having the other guards around made the conversations feel less personal. Now it is just you and him.

Fortunately, he is a natural showman. It does not take much to wrestle funny stories out of him. He has many, gleefully recounting every embarrassing story about his fellow guards. He tells you how he and Hyunjin didn’t get along at first. When you ask if it was for any political or religious reason, he laughs and says, “Nope! Just hated that handsome face. Seriously, who looks like that? Everything he did was annoying because he did it with that stupid smoulder.”

You laugh. At least an hour has passed and the sun has dried your clothes now. Your curly hair is partially dry but a tangled mess. Everything feels a little stiff and grimy with seawater, but you hardly care. Here, under the sun, cool from your impromptu swim, you feel more alive than you have in weeks.

“Why would it matter if he’s so handsome?” you ask. “With all due respect, it’s not as though that is especially handy in your occupation…”

He laughs maniacally at that. You swat his arm.

“It’s a valid question!” you exclaim.

“It is! It is!” he says, hands up in surrender. “And I don’t know, ha-ha. Old habits, I guess.”

“It wasn’t hard?” you ask. “Giving up your worldly goods? Swearing your vows?”

“No,” he says, a little more serious. He looks down at the ground, kicking a little stone. “I didn’t have much to my name. And for the other part – ah. It’s never been that hard for me, to be honest. Serving the gods felt right. Before I was a guard, I didn’t really have a purpose. A reason to be here on this earth. But now… now I do.”

“I see.”

“Did you…” He clears his throat. He seems to know his question is audacious, inappropriate for a guard, but you give him an encouraging look. Maybe because you are alone, or maybe because you have shared an ordeal, or maybe because you are in his robes, he gives in. “Did you ever want a different life?” he asks. He then winces as if suddenly remembering last night. “Sorry,” he says. “That insensitive. I’m sure you—”

“It’s all right,” you say. “I know what you mean. It’s just… the question is a little overwhelming.” You look across the sea and stare at the long edge of the horizon. “Last night… I felt a lot of things for the first time. I didn’t really know how to process it. I grew up with expectations. I didn’t know I would marry a king but I was raised to expect a match. I knew I was in a position of privilege and that meant conceding other things. I… I just wanted to make things good for other people. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

“It does,” he says sincerely.

You smile at each other.

“Good,” you say. There is a moment of silence. You look at the horizon again. “I don’t think I really know how to want something, to be honest,” you say, more to yourself than to him. “Not deeply. Not truly. I was wealthy. All my needs were met. I was never aimless. I always had someone telling me what to do. If there was ever time I wanted something, something I couldn’t have, I don’t remember. Maybe that’s for the best. I imagine that would be more painful than not wanting at all, right? Maybe it’s better to simply commit to duty. But I don’t know if that makes sense either.”

“It… it does,” he says. “It does.”

You eventually leave the beach and cross a short forest trail, intersecting the path the royal train will ride tomorrow. You walk into the city and look for the inn. It will be empty tonight in preparation for the royal visit tomorrow.

You reach the doors at dusk. The innkeepers recognize the kingsguard and usher you both inside. When Jisung introduces you as the queen, they fall over themselves, apologizing for being unprepared.

“It’s all right,” you say. You share a laughing glance with Jisung. “We took an unexpected shortcut.”

You are seated by a fireplace and given some food while they prepare a room for you. The innkeeper’s wife provides you with a more appropriate cover so you can return Jisung’s robes. He drapes them loosely around his shoulders but they are stiff with sea salt. Fortunately, you will both have an opportunity to wash.

When the room is ready, the innkeeper’s wife escorts you upstairs. She has prepared a bath in the bedchamber.

Jisung departs for a moment, just long enough to wash himself in another room. His outer robes are taken to be washed along with your grimy shift, though he stays in his shirt and pants as a kingsguard is not supposed to wear anything but his uniform. His spare robes are in his saddlebags.

You wash your hair while the bath water is hot. You try to focus on the heat, the water sluicing over your skin. You fight to keep your panic down as you think about encountering the king tomorrow.

You are wringing out your hair when the door opens. At first, you think it is the innkeeper’s wife returning for some reason. When you see it is Jisung, you duck down so the water covers your shoulders.

Jisung stumbles to a stop, eyes widening when he sees you in the tub.

“Oh!” he says. He spins around and walks right into the door.

You cover your mouth, watching as he stumbles back into the room, holding his face. For such a skilled swordsman, he can be remarkably clumsy.

“Are you okay?” you ask. You kneel in the deep tub, pressing yourself to the edge so it covers everything sensitive.

“Fine,” he says, pinching his nose. He waves a hand in your direction. “Fine. Sorry. They told me you were washing, just not in a bath.”

“They just sent you in here?” you ask. “Why?”

“Uh, well, I mean…” He dances over the threshold, rocking back and forth with uncertainty. He keeps his back to you. “I mean, it, uh, it is my job to, um, watch you.”

“In the bath?” you ask dryly.

“Well, everywhere.” He pinches his nose again and takes a breath. “It’s not unusual. The vows and – you know. The kingsguard is a different order. The gods see everything and we serve the gods. It, uh, it is fairly normal for at least one guard to be around at all times, regardless how the king… or queen… is… um… occupied.”

You feel a bit flushed, not just from the hot water.

“At all times?” you ask.

“Yup,” he says, popping the syllable. “The king used to have Felix stand guard in the room all night, even when he was with his mistress and ohhh wait a minute. Wait a minute. Hold on. I think I just put something together. Yeah, wow, okay. That was probably a bad idea for everyone involved.”

He always makes you laugh, even when you feel anxious or embarrassed. It untangles that knot of dread faster than anything else.

You fold your arms on the rim of the tub and rest your cheek there. He is still standing with his back to you, the door open. It is letting in a slight draft.

“Jisung,” you say. “It’s your duty. It’s fine. Can you please come inside and close the door? It’s getting cold.”

“Ah. Right. Okay. Sorry.” He finally enters the room, though he pointedly does not look in your direction. He busies himself with closing and bolting the door, taking far too long testing the locks.

His hair is a bit damp. He runs his fingers through it and your own fingers twitch. You have never wondered what it would feel like to run your fingers through someone else’s hair, not until now. His hair looks like it would be pleasant to the touch.

You shake your head and look away. Such foolish thoughts. You settle in your bath and leave Jisung to his busy work. He inspects every corner of the room and verifies the windows are securely sealed and locked. Eventually, he seats himself in a chair near the fireplace, warming his hands and staring into the flames.

You absently splash a bit of water, watching the droplets plink around you. Your thoughts stray to the king then his absent mistress. You cannot imagine any woman willingly and happily submitting to that man. You wonder when she and her kingsguard connected. You are glad she got away. You hope it stays that way for their sake.

Your own future is less certain. The king wants you dead. You do not know if he will make another attempt soon or if he will concede defeat for the time being. You already know he will never like you. It is obvious he is not that type of man. He was born to power, raised believing he was divine. Rather than use that blessing to aid his people, it has given him a cruel sense of superiority over them.

The best outcome is that he will decide it is too much work to kill you.

Or maybe death would be better. You thought so last night, which seems so long ago now. You remember the king’s violent hands on you, the demands he made, the way he looked right through you, treating you like a wretched thing. You shudder to think he intended to hurt and use you, knowing he was planning to kill you the next day.

“Are you all right?”

Jisung’s voice draws you out of your reverie. You are slouched in the tub, the water preserving your modesty at his distant vantage. His face is illuminated in the firelight, the flickering light revealing his obvious concern. Those dark eyes are wide as they gaze at you.

“Yes,” you say. He lifts a disbelieving eyebrow in reply. You cross your arms over your chest, though it is your heart that feels exposed. “No. No, I’m not all right.” You whisper as though you can conceal it from the gods even while their servant listens. “I’m sorry, Jisung. I know he’s the king. I know he is heaven’s earthly sovereign. I know I’m his wife. I know, no matter what he has done, if he has done anything, I have a responsibility, but I—” You wipe your tears when they start to fall. You sink a little lower in the tub.

Jisung stands. He goes to the bed where the innkeeper laid out a robe for you. He smooths it out and picks it up.

“Here,” he says.

He does not look when you step out of the tub. He wraps the robe around your body. The fleeting contact makes you shiver. You pass each other, avoiding eye contact. He returns to his seat by the fire and you sit on the edge of the bed.

The room is quiet except for the crackling of the flames.

“It’s not right,” he says after a moment.

You were picking at lint on the robe, your thoughts far away, but you look at him now.

“Pardon?” you ask in a small voice.

His hand is curled in a fist. He unclenches it slowly, then occupies his hands by removing his sword belt. He holds the weapon in his hands, running his thumb across the silver hilt while he frowns.

“It’s not just because you’re the queen,” he says. “You’re— you’re kind. You’re good. Your people cried when you left. The king’s people only cry when he returns. The way you talked to the villagers... The respect between you... The way you… the way you were good to those children…”

You recall the story of his own childhood, a poor peasant boy on the capital streets with nothing to his name but a song. His journey has been difficult. Given the way he speaks about himself, you believe there has been little reprieve or kindness.

He rubs his forehead, then shakes his head.

“You shouldn’t have to suffer,” he says. “No one should. But you... It’s not right. It’s not right.”

“I’m not special, really,” you say, not even to be self-deprecating but because you can see him sinking into his thoughts. You do not want him hurting for your sake.

“You are! You’re the queen!” he exclaims. “By the will of the gods! And I really do believe that. Because you... You are everything.”

You jump when he drops his sword, the metal clattering on the wooden floor. He puts his hands together as if he intends to pray but then he looks at you, aglow in the firelight.

“Your Majesty,” he says. “You are good and kind and funny and gentle. You are a heaven-sent queen. You are everything I ever dreamed of worshipping.”

Your wild heart breaks free. It is not with the pounding terror of adrenaline but like a drumbeat, a rhythm that has you taking a long, shuddering breath to keep pace with it.

No words suffice in reply. You sit in tense silence until the innkeeper’s wife knocks at the door. She has come to empty and clear away the tub.

Jisung lets her in. You smile and chat while she works – because she adamantly refuses to let you help – and she confirms everything is to your liking. You assure her that everything is perfect and she can be proud of her work. Jisung watches silently the whole time, leaning against the fireplace, loosely holding his sword.

When the room is clear and the bed turned down, the woman leaves, and the silence feels even heavier than before. You sit on the bed in your robe, drying your hair with a cloth. Jisung locks the door then takes his seat by the fire again. You suppose he is going to stay there all night.

He slouches very low, his elbow propped on the armrest and his hand on his face. His knees are spread wide enough that you can imagine kneeling between them. You do not know what would follow, just that you want to be there.

Yes, you want that, you realize. You want to be there, looking up at him with a reverence equal to his words. It would be easier than finding something to say. Your gaze would speak for you, in a position that should be reserved for the king and the gods.

You know you cannot do that. Your roles are very different. When he speaks of devotion and worship, it is as a kingsguard, not a man, even if your heart aches.

Because whether or not it is blasphemous to imagine, you would worship a man like that all the same.

The very thought has your blood racing. You imagine him looking down at you, his hand your face like before – guiding, gentle, good. You cannot imagine Jisung hurting you the way the king did. No, it would be different. The king seized your waist with a proprietary aggression. Jisung has touched your waist again and again, always to help you, always to protect you. You know his touch would not hurt. You know his touch would not leave you curled in pain for hours afterwards.

You know what it would not be, though you cannot imagine what it would be. You just know the thought makes you tremble.

That is not your fate. It is ridiculous to imagine. It will be the king in this room tomorrow night.

You tremble for a different reason.

“He’s going to hurt me,” you whisper. You are not sure if you even want to Jisung to hear but you simply cannot keep it inside. “Even if he doesn’t kill me,” you say. “He’s going to hurt me. He already tried once. I won’t be able to stop him again.”

You dare a glance at Jisung. He is staring at you with those wide, sympathetic eyes. After a moment of contemplation, he stands. He paces a little, back and forth, seemingly debating himself in his head. It turns to incoherent muttering as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Jisung—” you say, prepared to apologize. It is not appropriate for the queen to complain to a kingsguard about her duties. You are putting him in a difficult space because he is a good man who does not want to see you suffer, but he is a holy man and he should demand you pray and do as the gods bid you.

Instead he claps his hands and sighs a musical sigh.

“There are…” His voice breaks and he laughs, a nervous little giggle before clearing his throat. He says more seriously, “There are, uh, ways… things… um… yes… that you can do… so it doesn’t… so it doesn’t hurt.”

“Ways,” you repeat slowly. “Things.”

“Yes,” he says, gesturing nonsensically, waving at nothing. “Ways and things.”

“What ways and things?”

“You know.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t?”

“You do?”

“Ahhh…” Jisung looks sheepish, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He gives you a too-toothy smile. In spite of everything, warmth moves inside you, a bright and delightful joy, even if it is temporary. “Well, um. I’m chaste, obviously, so I don’t – I don’t know much. But I maybe know some things… There’s a ritual the kingsguards do… before they are, um, initiated…”

“Do…?” you say. You wave him onward with an amused smile.

“Uh, yes.” He stands ramrod straight and clasps his hands behind his back. “Don’t tell anyone I said anything, but, um. They send you to a brothel. It’s for a decent reason!” His hands fly out again, waving defensively even though you did not say anything.

You prop your elbow on your knee and your head on your fist, more entertained with his ranting than anything.

“You know,” Jisung says, speaking as much with his hands as his words, “They just want to make sure you are actually going to be okay with a vow of chastity, especially if you’re a virgin like, um, like I was. Am. Anyway. They don’t want a Felix situation, you know? Where you change your mind later. The vows are a serious, serious, serious thing. Felix was an exception, that whole thing was just – it was crazy, you know? But the vows. The vows. Oh, I was ready for the vows. My life… it wasn’t great, you know? I was worthless. I was a street kid. I was a thief. I came back from the war to nothing. The kingsguard gave me a reason to live. So I wasn’t tempted, oh nooo, I was never tempted. But they, um, they sent me anyway to make sure I knew what I was giving up.”

“I see,” you say. You want to correct him when he insults himself, but you suspect he will deflect any argument. Instead you ask, “What happened then?”

“Um, a very nice lady took me to a room,” he says. “I told her what I told you. I was ready for the kingsguard. I had my calling. I was finally going to matter. My friend had helped me and I couldn’t let him down.”

“And what did she say?”

“She just… listened,” he says, looking a bit fond in his recollection.

You find yourself feeling a little jealous, not so much because he is thinking of someone affectionately, but because you have no one to think of that way. The closest is a previous betrothal that fell through, but there was no intimacy in that arrangement either, only a single kiss that was more cordial than romantic. You have done your duty and reserved yourself and your affections for marriage, only to be given a very unaffectionate man.

You can only watch as Jisung reflects and says, “She said she knew a lot of men like me which, personally, I don’t think is true, I’m one of a kind, thank you. But she said, um… she asked if I wanted to, um, watch her. Touch herself, I mean. And, um, I, uh, did. Just to, you know, make sure. It didn’t count anyway because I didn’t touch her. It, um. Yes. Yes. That happened. So now I know ways and things.”

You blink at him. His awkward story-telling coupled with the twisting narrative leaves you more than a little perplexed.

“Touch herself,” you finally say. “Touch herself how? What does that mean?”

Jisung squeaks. He looks at you pleadingly, as if you can rescue him from the conversation he started.

“You don’t…” he says. It starts desperate but turns a little morose, his shoulders flattening with a sorrowful defeat. “No,” he says softly. “You don’t know anything, do you?”

He does not say it offensively but you bristle at the accusation regardless. You sit straight and lift your chin.

“I know exactly what we are talking about, thank you,” you say. “I am not a child, Jisung. I was raised to know my duty as a wife. I am very aware of what copulation entails.”

He raises his hands in surrender. You sit there, maintaining an air of haughty disinterest while he takes his seat again. He rubs his bare arms, absent-mindedly squeezing a bicep as he massages himself.

Watching her touch herself, repeats in your head, your eyes on his hands as they move up his arm, rubbing his own shoulder.

Your wild heart gets the better of you.

“Do you mean… it doesn’t always hurt?” you ask in a slurred rush. You look away when he looks at you, ashamed as you say, “I still don’t know what you mean by ways and things.”

“Well...” His tone is kind and patient. He waves a hand through the air. “I just mean… No. No, it doesn’t always hurt. Or it shouldn’t hurt, at least. So I’m told. I’m, uh, chaste. Obviously.”

“But you’ve seen a woman touch herself.”

“Yes.” The tips of his ears go red, or maybe it is the firelight. He scratches the back of his neck.

“And that… helps,” you say. “So it doesn’t hurt?”

“Yes, I think so,” he says, rubbing his hands together in a nervous fidget. “Again, I don’t really know for sure because I’m chaste.”

Yes, you know, especially with his constant reiteration of that fact. He has given you much to think about, though. Everyone always told you that a wife’s nightly duty was a painful, unpleasant thing, something to be endured to keep a husband content and create children.

You feel very foolish, much like you did last night when you tried and failed to run away. You have always considered yourself very intellectual and pragmatic, but lately you are feeling so many foreign things, encountering the world for the first time. It makes you feel younger than your age.

That anxiety twists in you again, its tangles and knots familiar by now. It is the nervous kind of adrenaline as you consider your next words carefully.

“Could you…” You cannot look at him, staring at the fire while you speak. “Could you… instruct me?”

“In-instruct you.” His voice breaks again. It feels as though you are both pubescent fools, falling over each other as you dart around this perilous subject.

Your eyes meet and that twisting anxiety becomes something else entirely. It burns hot as the fire, coiling inside you like some impossible, holy flame.

“Just… just so I know,” you say. “I don’t expect you to do anything like – oh, Jisung, I would never ask that, you know I would never! You’re a kingsguard!”

“I’m a kingsguard,” he repeats, like for a second he wasn’t sure.

“Yes, of course,” you say. “I’m sorry. It was a foolish question. I just – I trust you. And I hoped—” Hope. Something you should stop doing. The gods have made their decision and there are no prayers that will move them. You must resign yourself to your fate, whatever that is. “Forget it,” you say. “I know my place. Whatever happens, whatever he does – I will bear it. I will.”

You smile a forced smile, but it is bright and encouraging. It usually fools people.

Jisung does not smile back. He runs his hand through his hair again. He takes a deep breath and releases it as slowly. It is as loud as the flames, louder than the thunderous heart in your chest.

Despite it all, you keep smiling, determined to mask your emotions.

Then he looks at you and your mask immediately crumbles. Why do his eyes have this effect?

“Come here,” he says.

When the king commanded you, your body felt weak, terror coursing through your veins. It felt like an injury, so discombobulating that it incapacitated you long after.

Your body feels weak now but the terror is not the same, not that dark, cold dread. It courses hotly, like the water on your skin, like the heat in this room, like the look in his eyes. You try to convince yourself that your body is just sore from so much riding and running, so of course your legs feel shaky as you stand and approach him.

But you know. You know. Well before you reach him, well before he guides you towards the floor-length mirror, you know.

You look at your reflection. You almost do not recognize the woman looking back at you, so undone when she has always been so meticulously composed. No emotions got in, no feelings got out, no wants were had, and no disappointments either. Now your eyes burn too, meeting his through the reflection.

He gently gathers the hair that is loose around your shoulders. You shiver, fingers twitching, that coiled heat unravelling. He draws your hair back, guiding it over your shoulders and down your back. He briefly runs his fingers through the half-damp curls. He stares at his hands, eyes wide like he is holding some much more precious than hair.

He swallows. With a final pat, he lets go. His hands fall to his sides where they curl into tightly bound fists.

“I can’t touch you,” he says. “That’s not – I’m not – I mean.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “This is not that. But you’re the queen and you shouldn’t suffer. It’s just not right, okay?” He looks at you again through the mirror, eyes shiny and sad. “I’m a kingsguard. It’s my duty to protect you. From everything.” He smiles weakly. “Let me show you how to protect yourself, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, surprised by the rasp of your voice.

“Okay,” he says, rasping too. He clasps his hands behind his back, standing straight as if preparing for a military inspection. “I’m a kingsguard,” he repeats. You know that, so you are not sure who he keeps reassuring. “I’m not – I’m not looking at you like that, okay?”

“I trust you.”

“Right. Right. Um.”

His hands are restless. At his sides, behind his back, now crossed protectively over his chest. You find yourself looking at the subtle curve of his bicep.

“Lower your robe,” he says. Your startled eyes dart up the mirrored reflection. “Just as much as you want,” he adds.

You stare through the mirror. You never imagined your own eyes could look so heated, but they are twin to his, and you see a sort of beauty in yourself because of what you see in him.

You shrug the robe down your shoulders. He pointedly does not look down, keeping his eyes on yours. That is for the best. That is for the best?

You let it fall a little more. You feel the flickering heat of the nearby fire, warming your skin as it is revealed. Your heart jumps at the sensation, the feeling of exposure.

You forget how to breathe. In that held breath, you let the whole thing spill to the floor in a soft puddle of fabric.

He blinks, once, twice. On the third, his eyes dart down, but just as quickly up. He swallows. His voice shakes as he says, “Close your eyes.”

You look at those warm brown eyes one more time before obeying. You slip into the dreamy darkness, acutely aware of the world around you. Everything feels more pronounced. You feel every touch of heat like a burning mark, his breath like a kiss on the back of your neck. That coiling heat tightens again.

“What now?” you ask.

“Bring your fingers to your lips. Yes, like that.”

You raise your hand, resting two fingertips on your bottom lip. You feel his slow exhale.

“Kiss them,” he says. The word kiss feels like a touch. “On your tongue.”

It feels a little ridiculous but you do as he says, wetting the tips of your fingers. It does not garner any particular sensation. No, that comes from knowing he is watching. You cannot see him, but you know his gaze is fixated on you, rivetted to every movement to ensure you comply with his instructions. It makes that heat turn molten.

“Okay,” he says, his voice a much lower rasp than before. He clears his throat but it still comes out rough when he says, “Touch your neck – on your pulse, right there – slowly. Slowly. Bring your fingers down your throat.”

You do so, shivering a little at the wet trail it leaves as you trace your fingers from your jaw to your collarbone.

“Does it feel like a kiss?” he asks.

At his suggestion, the touch no longer feels like yours. You imagine him in front of you, his open mouth, his tongue darting past his lips. Your whole body tightens and heat rushes inside you. You imagine him taking his time, his tongue travelling from your jaw to your chest.

“Oh,” you say, a musical note of a sound. You hear his breath catch. “Yes.”

“Good.” He clears his throat again. “Keep – keep doing – that. Bring your hand – yes.” His voice gets softer, barely more than a whisper as you bring your fingers down the curve of your breast. “Yes. Like that.”

“Like this,” you repeat. It is easier to follow instinct with your eyes closed, listening to the beat of your own heart, the call of your own skin. You trace your fingers around the tip of your breast, where the peak is already stiff. You breathe harder, your heart faster, as it sends a shock of sensation firing through your body. “Oh. Is this what you meant?” The small touch feels torturous. You cup your whole breast and squeeze. The pleasure leaves you trembling.

“Yes,” he says. “But there’s, um. There’s more.”

“More?” You already feel dizzy. You never knew so many sensations were hidden under the surface of your skin. You cannot imagine what else is waiting.

“Lower,” he says.

There is a leap in your bloodstream as you obey. You chase it to no conclusion as the caress of your waist does not feel like much.

“No, um.” He moves. Maybe his hands are making gestures or maybe he is running his fingers through his hair. His voice is still rough so he clears his throat again. “To—towards the – the centre. The centre of your – body.”

Your hand hovers above your middle. You feel flushed, suddenly understanding his direction. Your tension must show, because he says softly, “You don’t have to. You can just—”

“I want to,” you say. The truth spills out of you in a desperate rush. You have never wanted so much. It has never been so clear in your voice.

“You do?” he repeats.

You answer by following the call of desire and touching the only place that makes sense. You make a noise when you do, surprised when you find evidence of all that coiling heat, wet on your fingertips.

“Are you – are you wet?” he asks.

You nod. “Is that good?”

“Yes,” he says. “That’s – that’s good. Very good.”

You soak in the praise, humming a sweet little sound as you move your fingers inexpertly. You brush somewhere sensitive, feeling like you struck every nerve at once, and your gasping cry gives it away.

“There,” he says. “Right there. Touch yourself. Don’t stop.”

You shuffle your feet apart, just a little. A jolt of pleasure shoots down your body when he nudges your bare foot with his booted one, easing your legs further apart. He does not address it so neither do you, accepting it as a simple gesture of help.

“You can use your other hand,” he says, because one is between your legs and the other just curled at your side.

You take his advice and cup a sensitive breast with your free hand. The noise you make will embarrass you later as it echoes in your mind, but right now you let it carry you away.

You cannot use both hands for long. One stays between your thighs and the other moves through the air, grasping at nothing. You need an anchor. Your legs are shaking and you are swimming in the darkness of your closed eyes. Spots of colour begin to dance across your shielded vision, twirling in dizzying motions. Your core feels tight.

“Oh – Jisung. Jisung, I—”

“It’s okay,” he says, his voice more strained than ever. “Trust me. Don’t stop.”

“Trust you,” you murmur. It sends another wave of heat rolling through you. The dizziness gets too much, your legs buckling. You reach back instinctively, blindly grasping for him.

He catches you, his soldier instincts fast. Your eyes fly open as you crash into his chest, so much of your weight supported in the clasp of his arms. His eyes look so dark, almost a solid black, his whole face flushed as if he was the one exerting himself. You whimper at the sight of him, at the sight of yourself in his arms, all sloping curves and fire-hot skin, soft and naked against his firm, darkly-clothed body.

“It’s okay,” he says, holding your trembling body.

You feel his hands on your sides, clutching you tightly, his front slotted alongside your backside. His clothes brush your too-sensitive skin, his hands hot on your body. You move just a little, rearing up under your own hand. You feel him behind you, undeniably hard, straining at the material of his uniform. He sucks in a breath, makes a rasping, hungry groan, but does nothing about his own desire, even while it makes you gasp.

He does not dare move his hands. He does not dare look away from your eyes in the mirror.

“Come to me,” he rasps. “I got you.”

All that coiling tension gives way. It feels like the moment the cosmos shifted, when the world disappeared under you, when you crashed through the surface of the water and felt as though you entered another world. Your body throbs under your fingers. Your mind is gone, your body in animalistic pursuit, needing him, pressing against him.

“Shhh,” he says gently.

You are gasping, every breath a watery sound. He exhales roughly, even his breath shaking, his nose pressed to your temple as he holds you another second.

“Shhh,” he says again. “Good. You’re okay.”

“Oh.” It is all you can say. You slowly withdraw your hand, your fingers embarrassingly wet.

You are not sure what possesses you. Perhaps it is the same instinct that compels you to clean blood off a finger pricked from needlework. You bring those fingers to your lips to suck the evidence away.

“Good fucking gods,” he says, his eyes wide.

He abruptly lets go and steps back. Fortunately, you have your footing so you do not fall, but it leaves a chill along your exposed backside. You shiver.

He looks around the floor then dives down to gather your discarded robe. He is on his knees when you turn around.

For a long moment, he stays down there, staring at the fabric in his hands. His knuckles whiten with the intense strength of his grip.

“Jisung?” you say softly. With your adrenaline dwindling, you feel shy. Even so, your heart is still an erratic thing. It seems physical release cannot temper whatever has taken hold of that creature. It continues to pound and stomp as Jisung lifts his head.

“My Queen,” he says, his voice so shot that it is barely above a breath.

You feel a jolt inside you, some trembling aftershock, intensified because he looks at you. Oh, he looks at you, forgetting himself at that vantage, his eyes everywhere from the curve of your knee to the slope of your thighs. His shiny brown eyes roam slower than a lover’s touch to the place between your legs, up the curve of your waist, your heaving breasts, and meeting your eyes with a near-crazed desperation.

“Jisung,” you say, a whisper as well.

He drops his head again, cursing under his breath as he closes his eyes. He shifts to one knee then finally rises, stumbling a little once upright. He wraps the robe around you without any delay, then he throws his hands out to his sides like he is issuing surrender.

“Good,” he says, avoiding your face, avoiding everything as he stumbles towards the fireplace and his discarded sword.

You close the robe around yourself. You do not know what to say. Words seem woefully insufficient, especially with his frantic energy as he fumbles with his sword belt, fighting to get it secured around his waist.

“Thank you,” you finally say. You sit on the end of the bed, holding the neck of the robe closed, looking at him with nothing but raw and open emotion. “I – I don’t know what else to say.”

He stares back at you, a hand on the hilt of his sword. The other sits over his midsection, curls around his belt. He looks like he might burst into flames with all that white and gold flashing behind him.

“If I can ever repay you…” you say.

You don’t mean it like that, but his eyes flash with unmistakable desire, then terror.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he says, bowing low. “You owe me nothing. You’re my – you’re my queen.”

He moves so quickly, it makes you jump, raising from his bow and striding across the room. He is at the door in a matter of seconds, his hand practically crashing onto the lock. There, it freezes, his fingers curled around the iron.

You stare at him. His shoulders are tense. Your lips part though you have no idea what to say. There is a feeling inside you but you cannot name it, cannot catch it with your voice. You can only take another breath.

He whips back around. You jump again.

Before you can even think to move or speak, he is in front of you. He slams down onto his knees and bows again, more frantic than before, the top of his head hitting your legs. You reach for him instinctively, the curve of his neck looking so desolate and desperate. He seizes your hands before they can touch them, bringing them together then to his lips. He kisses your knuckles, though it such a hard and needy press that it feels more like a collision. You feel his lips and the bump of his teeth. He hisses on an exhale and drops your hands.

Without another word, he stands. He marches to the door. This time he does not hesitate, flicking open the locks. He steps into the hall without looking back. The door closes between you.

You hear his body hit the door, the drag of it as he sinks to the ground. He is sitting on the floor outside.

You move towards that door without thinking. You sink to your knees as well, pressing your ear to the wood. You can hear him breathing on the other side – heaving, frantic breaths that sound like crying.

Perhaps it is all the sensation catching up to you, but your own eyes fill with tears as you slump against the door. You remain a long time, listening to each other with the divider between you.

#han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #jisung x reader #jisung smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #han jisung x you #skz x you #stray kids x you #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfiction

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theurgists · 1 year ago

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⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ WILD THING ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: filming a masterpiece came easy to you, despite how weak the material you were given to work with was. having to do it with someone you harbored such hate for is proving to be a little difficult. but she can simmer your spite with just a touch, can't she?

warnings: 70s au, 18+, smut, cunnilingus, fingering, sexual tension (??), mentions about the porn industry, pornstar!ellie, mentions of weed, weed usage, not proof-read

a/n: yet another reupload, haven't written an updated piece for ellie in a while but i just might after bringing back a shit ton of old works sitting in the drafts for you all to enjoy again ;)

“When I tell you that this is the best script to ever come into my hands, I mean it. But, all I’m saying is that we need some slight adjustments.”

Glancing at the man in front of you, the twinge of hope that had developed within you just last week seemingly diminished, snuffed out with wet finger pads. You leaned back into the velvet red of the tiny seat, licking the top row of your pearly teeth, watching with low-lidded eyes as he waved his thick hands around — emphasizing how much he meant what he said.

The sheen of sweat running down his forehead proved how harsh the heat was. More unbearable than usual as of late as the sun beamed with an orange hue through the glass pane of one of the many windows in the sizable van, mugginess forming in a thick cloud — mixing with the smoke from the lit joint between your ringed fingers.

You crossed a leg over the other, the denim of your bell bottoms rubbing together, uncomfortably sticking to the bare skin beneath from the humidity. Guiding your fingers toward your mouth, you inhaled, listening to the crackle of the van radio as ‘White Room’ by Cream filled the tensed silence, happy toxins filling your cool mouth — the odd flavor combining with the peppermint gum that once twirled on the sides of your cheeks.

Humming, you shrugged. “Like what? Having a man fuck me instead of a woman?”

A sheepish look came across his features, signaling that your words had made him just a tad disagreeable. You had to bite back the scoff that tried to force its way out of your mouth, shaking your head from side to side dramatically before pointing a manicured finger in his direction.

“You already know the type of shit I do, Paul.” The amused smile that painted your lips was once laced with malice. “I thought we were on the same page when you agreed to be my agent.”

Paul was a bitter man. Then again, when aren’t men in general upset? Truthfully, you should’ve walked away from him the second you found his disgusting eyes raking up and down the expanse of your smooth legs, alcohol and a wrong impression exuding from his pores, violently washing over you in waves. He tried to chat you up but his words faltered when your eyes narrowed, the annoyance radiating off of your being at his very presence.

As politely as you could, you told him to go fuck off — will all the disrespect in the world, of course. Eventually, he relented, but not before sliding a withered, folded paper card in your hands before leaving you to wallow alone. But alas, here you were, in the back of a fogged van on your way to film pornography.

He put his palms up in defense, the buttons of his shirt halfway undone, giving you a visible view of curly chest hair in all its glory. Lifting the right corner of your lip, you grimaced, noting the way he frowned as soon as he saw your pained expression.

Sighing, he clapped his warm, sweaty palms together, figuring it’d be worth a shot to try once more. “I’m just putting my input out there, and -”

You interjected. “Where it isn’t needed. Thank you though.”

Narrowing his eyes, Paul waited until you sunk back into your seat, heaving out a heavy sigh before dragging a hand down his sweaty face. “Look, I know what I said about letting you do your thing with women, it’s what you’re comfortable with. But you’re audience is mainly men.”

Bouncing your leg, you huffed, diverting your gaze to stare at something else other than him. Your nose hairs burned slightly from the scent and the stuffiness of the small area despite the small open window, it was suffocating. “Something I didn’t ask for. I do what I do for women.”

“Obviously, but that’s not how they see it. They’re never going to see it that way. Might as well make money off of it … with someone like your audience.”

Although he had a point, there was a part of you that could never give up on the very limited amount of queer women who enjoy what you do for their pleasure. You had once been in their shoes, scared of the consequences of touching yourself to the thought of women, guilt weighing down on your shoulders so heavily that you felt as if everyone had known exactly what you were into. It was something you had always been so cautious about — glancing at a pretty girl the wrong way, to bat your eyelashes at them as you so desperately wanted.

The women you had been with had left you with empty sheets, and an even emptier heart, not ready to come to terms with the fact that you were exactly what they liked and not clean-shaven faces and strong-scented cologne. He was right. But, that’s not something you were willing to take with a grain of salt, nor give in like he so desperately wanted.

You took a long drag of the burning paper, reaching forward to snuff it out in the nearby ashtray on the floor before ultimately shaking your head side to side, tendrils of hair falling in front of your face, escaping the small bun you had created at the top of your head earlier. “I’ll take the risk and keep whoever’s filming with me.”

Paul pursed his thin lips, poking his tongue out from in between to moisturize the dry flesh before nodding curtly, “Okay,” He sighed. “I guess we’re keeping Ellie.”

At that, your eyebrows furrowed, the skin between them folding as you grew confused. The cogs in your head were overheating — and not just from the scorching heat. Paul knew your resentment toward the auburn-haired girl. Her freckled face sends the flesh of your lips to curl over your teeth in disgust for reasons unknown to everyone but you. It was a tension that always stuck like the strongest glue, hard to scrub off no matter how hard you tried.

There was just something about her that made your heart fill with a type of emotion that you couldn’t decipher as something other than anger and spite.

Ellie Williams.

The one person you seemingly weren’t able to get along with no matter how hard you tried. From the handful of small interactions you’ve had with the girl, she’s curt. A little bit of a bitch if anything but then again, so were you. Maybe that’s why the two of you were always going at it, words of hatred being spewed back and forth, metaphorically pushing one another’s chest, trying to see who could take things to a burning point, letting it boil over like a pot full of water on high heat.

“I see that look on your face, mellow out.”

You hadn’t noticed the way your nostrils were flared, the way your chest was rising up and down at a rapid pace, your breathing uneven and your hands balled into fists on either side of you. Closing your eyes, you opened your mouth to take a deep breath, letting the stale air fill your lungs before you exhaled, trying to center yourself.

“I’m neat. Just lost my cool for a second there.”

You glanced out the window next to him, your eyes darting to focus on any ounce of color you could spot behind the thin layer of dust that coated the outside glass. Taking in the stream of green grass that stretched as the van moved along the road, you sniffed. Paul followed your gaze, turning his torso to join your small viewing party of one.

The rest of the ride was silent, the only sound reaching your ears, for the time being, was the quiet hum of the radio, the occasional squeak of the van when the driver would brake, and the silent mumbles that came from Paul’s mouth as he muttered quietly to himself.

It wasn’t an ideal situation for you — having just Paul to guide you through an industry you knew only a handful about. Although the money was decent, you were thriving to achieve more with your life, looking at the porn industry as a last alternative to solve every problem that arose at every corner, chasing you down to tackle you, to beat you to a pulp.

In a way, the green that would make its way into your greedy hands wasn’t going directly into your pockets. Instead, it was being handed to doctors at the local hospital for your mother’s care, as she had been diagnosed with some sort of terminal illness. Oh, how you loved her dearly, having been raised behind motel walls, the rent was barely paid, saltine crackers being shoved into your mouth ravenously, and inexpensive water being guzzled down your throat due to how thirsty you’d be.

As you became older and your hair grew longer, the idea that your mother had tried everything she could with you carried on into everyday occurrences as you found yourself coming home with less than needed. It wasn’t until your friend, Jean, had come into your home, a joint and a bottle of Mateus Rose being shared between the two of you as you sat in the expanse of your small, crowded living room that you realized just how serious she was about what she was saying.

“I know a couple of these fellas down in the city, they’re easy to convince if you bat your eyelashes a little.” She had said it as if it was the simplest thing in the world, and it was. Just for all the wrong reasons. After that, she moved somewhere deep in the valleys of Los Angeles and you haven’t heard from her since. You supposed she was doing well for herself though, having seen her in the papers a couple of weeks ago on your way to the designated filing studio for the day, stepping backward in your heeled boots, grabbing it from the stand much to the dismay of the man who was selling them.

You were surprised, to say the least, eyes scanning across the big, bold black print. She had gotten herself in the papers for all the wrong reasons, destroying everything she had built for herself in the blink of an eye as soon as she had cheated on her millionaire husband with an even more rich, married man. You remembered the way your eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion and the ‘o’ your jaw had dropped into, the cigarette in your hand long forgotten and burning between your fingers.

You couldn’t help but feel bad for her, your chest hurting at that path that she had chosen for herself although you weren’t one to judge considering what you were doing for money wasn’t proper either. She was on a better lane than you, trading her dingy apartment for a nice typical picket fence house in the hills, her handmade craft bracelets for pearls, and her bell bottoms for posh dresses. All that aside, she was a nice girl.

The van came to a harsh stop, jolting forward just enough that it made you shift in your seat, and it was then that you paid special attention to the knot that had formed in your stomach. The uncomfortable feeling caused your face to scrunch up, the expression disappearing as soon as Paul looked in your direction with a smile on his stupid fucking face.

“You ready, kid?”

Shrugging, you licked your lips, cocking your head to the side before heaving a dramatic sigh, “I guess so.”

Rolling his eyes, Paul nodded his head toward the doors of the van, silently telling you to join him in the outside world, figuring that fresh air would do you some good and ease the nerves along with the high you were experiencing. As the doors opened from the other side, the hairs on your arms raised from the slight breeze that the warm air brought, the sun glowing directly into your eyes, causing you to squint.

Bringing your hands up to cover your face, you breathed out through your nose, blinking rapidly once — twice, the strain that had formed due to the light difference created a dull throb to go along with it.

“Are you fucking serious, Jeff?” Once that voice reached your ears, you raised your head and immediately came face to face with the one person you were dreading to even glance at. She looked good, that was something you couldn’t deny. The glowing daylight behind her created a halo that made her short auburn hair shine just a little brighter, the freckles on her skin more visible in the Wyoming sun.

The expression that swirled in her green eyes wasn’t something you had the opportunity to decipher as she had turned away from you in an instant.

Your eyes shamelessly roamed down what part of her chest was visible to you, noticing the white, collared button-down she wore; the first couple of buttons undone leaving her collarbone exposed, a thin layer of sweat forming between her sternum. Loose, boot-cut jeans hugged her hips. Her fingers looped through the belt holes causing the tucked shirt to ruffle slightly, a wrinkle embedding itself into the fabric.

Interacting with her was inevitable and you internally slapped yourself for letting something so stupid bounce across your brain. You were making an adult film with her after all.

“Jeez, it’s just me, no need to get yourself wet.” She glanced back at you momentarily before averting her gaze once more, leaving you to narrow your eyes as you slid out of the van, stretching your legs.

You bit back a groan at the sensation of releasing all the built-up tension and ache from sitting for so long, having come from Montana to Jackson, a grueling six-and-a-half-hour drive. The fresh air was nice, so you basked in every second of it before you would have to return to an inside setting again.

The thought of it sent your mind reeling again, the small pang of nervousness creeping back up onto you in the form of an itch on your elbow that you scratched with your short fingernails, the skin there dry and in desperate need of hydration.

“I’m not starting with you.” She stated, voice gruff and low as she tapped one of her polished, black pointed-toe boots on the dry dirt beneath her, the leather creasing as she did so with a cigarette in between her right fingers. You could tell she was growing annoyed, and a devious smirk tugged at the corners of your lips before you plucked it out of her fingers, putting it toward your lips to take a drag.

From your peripheral vision, you could see her point the flesh of her lips in a frown, shaking her head slightly. It took you a fraction of a second to decide that starting a conversation with her wasn’t what you wanted to do, especially watching the way Jeff, her manager, interacted with yours, his jaw tense and teeth grinding together behind his thin lips. The sky was getting darker, the bright blue that was there mere moments ago being stained with a salmon pink, a tinge of sherbet orange below the horizon. The grass around the property was short, thriving with life, and as green as ever with different arrays of flowers, colorful and swaying in the wind.

It felt peaceful, and serene almost until the thought of what you were here for jumped out at you.

Tapping the butt of the cigarette, you ashed it, watching as it fell an inch away from your boot, pulling it to the entrance of your lips before taking another drag, and exhaling loudly.

Swaying slightly from side to side, Ellie watched as Paul and Jeff continued to argue, turning to you, waiting until you cocked your head in her direction at her outstretched palm.

“What?”

She pointed a ringed finger at half of the stick still in your grasp. “Since we’re sharing now apparently, at least let me take a couple of drags too.”

Huffing, you extended it out to her, snatching your hand back across your chest once she took it from you. “You don’t have a pack of your own?”

“Obviously not or the thought of taking yours would’ve never crossed my mind.” Running a hand through your hair, you felt the warmness of your tongue against your bottom lip as you licked the layer of dry skin there. The silence that followed after was thick, suffocating almost until you decided with the last shred of dignity you had. “So, what’d you think of the script?”

Turning your body in her direction, you quickly scanned her up and down, taking in the way she shrugged in response before inhaling again. “It was alright, nothing worth getting excited over. Can’t expect much when it’s written by who it’s written by.”

Raising your eyebrows, you silently agreed by nodding your head, knowing exactly what she meant without her having to say too much. Troy, the man who wrote the majority of your scripts, was a creep. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that most of the men in this line of work were as weird as could be, especially when working with women such as yourself who found comfort in the arms of another woman and not a man.

“Yeah, It didn’t make much sense but no one’s watching for the plot, I guess.”

Ellie snorted, flicking the cigarette on the ground, snuffing it out with the sole of her shoe, and rubbing at the back of her neck with a hand after. “Yeah.” She nodded, looking off into the distance for a couple of seconds before scanning your face, her gaze lingering on your lips a little too long before they moved again.

Standing without a word being spoken was the most comfortable silence you had ever felt in a while, so you took the peace to your advantage, your rapid heart slowing down its pace the longer you stood next to her, the wind carrying the scent of pine and cigarettes from her clothing into your nostrils, exciting your nose hairs.

The sound of soles crunching beneath stray rocks and rubble caused you to look up at Jeff and Paul through your lashes, observing how they looked at each other and then back at you.

Clapping his hands together, Jeff pointed his thumbs over his shoulders, gesturing to the lone house on the land, his brown eyes bouncing between the two of you.

“Okay, let’s start filmin’.” Turning on his heel, he extended the distance between you three, leaving you to catch follow quickly, the lids of your eyes shutting slowly before fluttering open again. Walking through the wide door, you found three other people gathered around a patterned sofa, their talking coming to a pause as soon as you had walked through the frame of the front door, Ellie right behind. Arnold, the cameraman seemed to be everywhere, and he was a bit of a creep if you were being honest but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. You’ve had your fair share of men being openly odd, sparking weariness within you, and raising bright red flags. Jared was the sound guy, a ribbon microphone practically always glued to the tips of his fingers every time you saw him — and that was often.

Arnold was the first one to speak, his dark eyes swirling with happiness, a haze of drunkness in them as well. Figures. “Never thought I’d see the day where the two of you were close willingly.”

Wiggling a finger at you and Ellie, he balanced his camera in another hand, the sound of the door shutting grasping his attention momentarily, zeroing in on Ellie when he had focused again.

When he had opened his shit-hole of a mouth again, you had tuned him out, eyes locking onto the hardwood beneath your shoes as he explained the little plot of the short movie. Ellie was to play the ‘man of the house’ as Troy had called it, and you were the stunning wife of course, having to cook a pretend dinner and prep the dining table for a romantic night for two before the stares and touches grew heavy with need. The sex scene would take place on the island countertop in the kitchen after you had finished washing dishes.

Filming was difficult, with time being lost from the handful of times that you and Ellie had bickered about hand placements and the way you were supposed to feverishly lock lips, which had everyone in the room in a sour mood, the negativity spreading within you as Ellie had kissed you harshly during one scene, knocking her front teeth into yours. You had yanked your head back, running your tongue across your left tooth as it throbbed slightly, not intending to shove her as far as you did, and of course, that action elicited a bunch of curses from her and a small ‘fuck, I’m sorry it was an accident.’

In hindsight, your response should’ve been a little more respectful considering that she had apologized but as she put her lips to the skin of your neck, right below your ear, it swirled out of your mind, the words that rose out of your throat being a jumbled mess of moans as she sucked at a certain spot.

The dull throb between your thighs made you wrap your legs around her waist, creating more friction as the material of her jeans rubbed deliciously against your clothed clit. If there was one thing about Ellie that you were certain of, it was that she knew how to touch a woman, to get them flustered, to have them writhing under her touch, to make them want more.

“So beautiful. Why are you sittin’ all shy, baby?” It was as if everyone else in the room had disappeared, disintegrating into thin air, the camera a couple of feet away from you forgotten as you stared at her, chest rising and falling quickly as your heart started to beat rapidly against your ribcage. Whether that was part of the script or not was something that crossed your mind for a couple of seconds as you stared at her lips, shaking your head a moment after.

“M’ not shy.”

Grabbing the apples of her cheeks with the palm of your hands, you cupped her face, bringing her lips closer to yours once more, your hot breath mixing with hers as you desperately clutched the back of her shirt into your fingers, knuckles growing white as your nails clawed crescent shapes into her back.

Ellie hummed against you, pulling her head back, a string of saliva stretching between the both of you before she wiped at it with the back of her hand, the way she held eye contact the whole time causing you to rub your thighs together. “Mhm, not shy but very eager.”

It was a low whisper that brought the hairs on your arms to raise slowly, the warm feeling of her fingers tapping the fat of your thighs evoking a small, unintentional whine from you.

You didn’t care if this wasn’t a part of the script, and neither did everyone else in the room as they all waited with bated breath, their bodies rigid and tension-filled, waiting for your response.

“Only this eager for you.”

It was true. Your experience with her was by far the best of your career and she didn’t even take unbutton your pants yet, leaving the slick that had pooled in the center of your pants, staining the crotch area, your cheeks developing a rosy tint at how embarrassingly horny you were.

The freckled girl noticed this, a smirk pulling at her mouth as she leaned closer to you, green eyes fogged with the desperate need to please you, to have you screaming her name until you weren’t able to do so. The hotness of her breath, as it passed through her teeth, made you shudder, your manicured fingers going to rest at the waistband of her jeans, right above the small of her back.

“You have no idea what you just started, sweetheart.”

With that, she hastily reached for the button of your jeans, popping them open, her fingers guiding themselves onto your bare cunt, air passing through your teeth as you hissed, the coolness of her ringed fingers coming in contact with your warm flesh.

The dry chuckle that passed her lips was laced with humor, your lack of underwear surprising her although it wasn’t written on her flushed face. “And you aren’t wearing anything else. You’re trying to reel me in, huh?”

“Ah, shit.”

“So wet and I only just started touching you.” She drawled, her left arm wrapping around your waist to scoot you to the edge of the green laminate countertop, placing the pad of her thumb on your bud, moving it in slow circles. You clenched onto nothing, bucking your hips into her hand, urging her to press down harder.

She complied, working her finger against you so roughly, that the slight pinch of pain one of her many rings caused as it skimmed across one of your folds spiraled into pleasure. She rested her forehead against yours, the tips of your noses touching as she continued to please your aching cunt. Biting down on your lip, a muffled moan escaped causing your jaw to grow tense at the knot that had formed in the expanse of your stomach.

“Does it feel good, baby?”

Nodding your head, you lifted your hips, helping her tug your jeans off fully, exposing the smooth, moisturized skin of your legs, the scratchy denim pooling at your ankles.

Ellie removed her hand, the sudden rush of air on your exposed flesh causing an involuntary arch in your lower back. The heat of her green eyes burning at your lower half had sent adrenaline coursing through every vein in your body, even more so when you had whined.

“Such a pretty pussy.”

Her praises had set your skin on fire, the aching throb becoming unbearable, your arousal leaking from you once more as she shoved a finger inside of you with the help of your wetness, one of the tight rings stretching you out just an inch more. One of your sweaty palms slapped against the counter, the back of your head coming in contact with a wooden cabinet, a small ‘thud’ accompanying the action.

Without warning, she started pumping the lone finger in and out, flexing in between your walls, enjoying the expression on your face — the way it contorted with pleasure when she’d hit a certain spot inside of you that had you silently mumbling with closed eyes, curses spilling from your lips in a low chant.

Your hard nipples were visible through the thin shirt that covered your chest, and she couldn’t stop her other hand as it weaved its way under the end of your shirt, flicking one of them harshly, a sting of pain in its wake. “Fuck.” You sighed, breath stuttering as you felt another finger slide past your hole.

With flared nostrils, you cocked your head to the side as her lips started to suck at your neck, teeth grazing across your throat, a thin layer of saliva snailing up your neck as the skin grew red and raw, the blood cells beneath rising to the surface at the suction.

Your entire body was hot, flushed with sweat as she pleased you as if you were the last person she’d ever have the privilege of laying her godly hands upon. You were growing addicted to her touch — as wrong as it was because your dislike for her was starting to lessen just a bit. Her fingers felt amazing, the way they curled into you, not too much but not too little that it didn’t satisfy you when it was the exact opposite.

In truth, you almost didn’t recognize the sensation that came to you as it had grown foreign to you, along with the butterflies that would flutter within your stomach as other’s touches had rendered you numb. Not Ellie’s though. Never hers.

With that one lingering thought, a sob rippled through your throat as you clenched tightly around her fingers, the muscles in your stomach flexing as you came, legs shaking around her frame.

There wasn’t any time to waste, camera film was expensive after all.

You were numb, breathing heavy and hair disheveled, eyes wide and lips parted as Ellie sunk to her knees, curling her hands under your thighs only to rest them on your lower stomach, a trail of hot, sloppy kisses being left behind starting from your knee.

When her warm tongue cupped over you, you were a goner, toes curling within the space of your boots, the sound of her lapping at your juices sinful as she sucked greedily.

Internally slapping yourself, you concluded that all the past bickering and sexual tension throughout the many seasons all led up to this — the best head you had ever received in your life and she had just swiped her tongue once.

“Please, please.” You begged pathetically, hands weaving through her short auburn hair, tugging to one side harshly, causing her to moan against you.

“Please what?” She cooed, urging you to use your words even though you were a sobbing mess.

“Please let me feel you, I want your tongue.”

The smile she gave you was lazy, and devious as the flesh of her lips pulled back into a smile.

“All you had to do was ask, darlin'.'”

#tlou part 2 #tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams imagine #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader

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