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shewroteaworld · 10 months

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PCOS

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

100 Follower Celebration Request: "🤨 + 'You’re braver than you think and more beautiful than you know.' "

Premise: You've been keeping a secret from your boyfriend. At the most inopportune time, it thrusts itself into the light. He doesn't have the reaction you feared.

Warnings: mentions of Criminal Minds--typical violence, mentions of nausea, discussions of chronic illness, mentions of poor self-esteem

Word count: approx. 3,000

When the unsub impaled you with the knife, you gasped awake.

You blinked open your eyes to pitch black darkness, a pulse of 200 beats per minute, a stomach frothing with queasiness, and cold skin sticky with sweat.

Something velvety constricted your body like cling wrap. The suffocation was akin to being buried six feet under. Fortunately, the feather pillow cushioning your head and the soft foam squashed beneath your fingertips broke through your sleep-addled mind.

It was only a nightmare. You were still laying in bed next to Aaron Hotcher.

Your breath caught, and you went rigor mortis still. Once A’s soft snoring reached you, you relaxed.

Tiredly, you smiled at a ceiling you couldn’t see. You didn’t wake him. The last thing A needed after a horrifying case was to not only be woken before dawn but also be woken by his girlfriend gasping in terror.

Your boyfriend of six months, Aaron, was an FBI supervisory special agent. As a civilian, there was plenty of work information to which you were not privy, especially if a case went south. Often, Aaron didn’t tell you where he flew for work. All you knew was, he’d be away for days. However, sometimes you’d know where Aaron was flying back from once the case was handled. Either, he could tell you once the target was apprehended or you found out via news report.

Based on the news reports from New Mexico that featured the BAU's media liaison, Jennifer Jareau, a cult leader ended his sadistic campaign with an AR-15 shootout and a murder-suicide that caught the state police completely off guard. The FBI caught the scent of his plan, but by the time they sniffed it out, they were 5 steps too far behind. Thankfully, Aaron nor any of his unit members died.

Aaron returned to his DC brownstone to ceramic pans full of your best dishes— all piping hot— on his kitchen counter. You made sure to prepare enough food to last him a couple weeks; emotionally trying work events and tons of paperwork were the perfect recipe for Aaron to not eat enough, and you weren’t going to make it easy for him. The past work weeks had been a whirlwind for you as well; you’d billed 15 plus hours every day for the past week to resuscitate a major merger on its deathbed. You set the last dirtied spoon on A’s drying rack two seconds before he unlocked his front door.

Aaron left the details of his past case vague. He kept the details of his emotional state even vaguer. But you could tell in the extra tight grip of his hello hug that he was in need of grounding. You anchored him with a constant, comforting grip, on his calloused hands. You fed him your best mac and cheese; you even cut back on your beloved pepperjack for his spice sensitive taste buds. Later that evening, you took a soothing shower together and collapsed into bed. You broke your typical bedtime routine: instead of discussing the latest novel you’ve read or life realizations, you watched a so-bad-it's-good corporate soap and ripped it a part for its inaccuracies. That’s when Aaron laughed for the first time since he came home.

You were relieved you didn’t wake him. Even though food comas were “scientifically disproven,” a factoid Aaron passed on to you from his team's young genius, Doctor Spencer Reid, you hoped the welcome home dinner you made him helped sustain his deep sleep.

Your adrenal glands calmed. You closed your eyes, but, not a second later, you were rudely interrupted by a sharp pain three inches below your belly button--- right where the unsub stabbed you.

It was just a dream. With a quiet huff, you rolled onto your side and curled against Aaron’s back.

That’s when you felt it— a tacky liquid sticking your satin pj pants to your thighs. A swell of nausea overtook you, and you feared it was not a byproduct of anxiety alone.

Gingerly, you slid out of bed. With the nausea sliding up your esophagus and the sensation of the room spinning, it wouldn’t take Holmes to confirm the cause, but you refused to panic without irrefutable evidence.

Gently, you folded the covers back. Not daring to turn on your phone flashlight, you tapped your home screen and raised the brightness.

When you hovered the light over the bed sheet, deep red splotches of smeared period blood screamed against Aaron’s stark white sheets.

Something deep and cold coiled in the pit of your stomach. You clicked your phone off. Carefully, you took a few steps back from the bed.

Your stomach whirled. A shiver crawled up your spine. You hurriedly tiptoed across the carpet to Aaron’s ensuite. Even in your haste, you quietly shut the door behind you. As soon as the door was in its oak frame, you turned the lock.

You pulled the roots of your hair with an iron grip. Shit. Shit.

You collapsed onto the edge of Aaron’s bathtub. There was blood all over your pj bottoms. You stood in a panic. You looked back and, of course, in a matter of three seconds, you stained the white acrylic.

You went to his faucet and patted ice cold water on your cheeks. Get a grip. Stress would only make the inevitable worse. Why it was possible for your body to malfunction this severely, you’ll never understand.

If you’d only been blessed with a normal body, one that menstruated on a timely schedule and didn’t come with a laundry list of ugly, graphic symptoms, tonight would be nothing more than a minor embarrassment.

The guilt for waking Aaron on tonight of all nights would be strong, but all you would have to do is tap him awake, apologize, and attack your blood splotches with a hydrogen peroxide–soaked cotton ball and the night would revert back to a typical night with your boyfriend.

You wished you were well enough to clean his sheets. Unfortunately, for you, it wasn't possible. You’d get even more nauseated. Or too lightheaded. You already felt sick when you woke up, which meant you were menstruating for a few hours.

How did you not catch this? Your body at least has the decency of shooting some warning flares, and the new medication your OB/GYN prescribed three months ago was far from 100 percent effective at calming your PMS symptoms.

You ran a hand over your face and through your hair. You were two weeks early after billing unbelievable hours for that merger dispute. This was stress induced.

You forced a deep breath. You needed to find a way out of this.

Suddenly, your vision swam. With no other option, you sat on the stained portion of Aaron’s bathtub. You gripped your stomach as the pain twisted deeper into your abdomen. You hunched over yourself.

Tonight could not become Aaron’s baptism by fire into your PCOS. He was exhausted physically and emotionally. He shouldn’t have to deal with all the baggage that comes when you experience the most natural thing in the world for a woman.

The nausea crawled up your throat, and you forcefully swallowed it back with a groan.

You put your head in your hands. You didn’t bring enough pads. Or tampons. You didn’t have any anti-emetics. What if you got a migraine? What if you fainted and A woke to what appeared to be your corpse lying on his bathroom tile?

Your spiral was interrupted by the man in question. “Honey?” Aaron called, voice strung.

Before you could respond, he yelled. “Honey?!”

You stood, and Aaron’s bathroom tilted on an axis. You barely managed to stumble to the doorway.

Fumbling, you unlocked the door just as Aaron reached the it.

His brown eyes were wide blown and wild. You'd never seen that expression on him before. “Are you okay?” He held your forearms as if he were afraid you’d crumple with too harsh a touch.

“I saw the blood and I…” He swallowed. He scanned you from head to toe repeatedly. “I thought the worst.” He whispered. Your heart fell through the pit of your stomach to the soles of your feet.

He cupped your cheeks. “Baby, you’re really off color. I need you to talk to me. Where are you hurt?” The blood stains on the back of your pants were out of his view.

“I’m not hurt, A.” You said.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Your side of the bed is blood stained.” He said, his voice taking a sterner edge.

“I’m on my monthly.”

“Oh.” He released your arms. His cheeks dusted pink. “Sorry, honey, I…” He ran his hands over his bedhead. “I should’ve…I jumped to conclusions.” He sounded shocked with himself.

“You’ve had a long day.” You whispered. “Give me a minute. I’ll clean.”

Suddenly, everything went blurry. Your muscles slacked, and your forehead dropped onto Aaron’s pectoral.

A hand was back on your forearm, this time with a tighter grip. A calloused hand tapped your cheek. “Hey. Hey. Baby. Stay with me.”

Carefully, he walked you away from the door. “Sit.” Fully supporting your back, he sat you on the floor and leaned you against the bathtub.

As soon as your back was fully supported, his ensuite regained color. You could take a deep breath again.

Aaron knelt in front of you. “Honey,” Aaron said, his stare piercing through yours. He stroked your hair out of your face. “I need you to be honest with me. What’s wrong?”

“I told you.” More accurately, you began to tell him.

You shivered. He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead and stroked down your cheekbone.

“I don’t have a fever.” You insisted. “It’s just my monthly.”

He pecked your forehead. He didn’t believe you. “Is it always this bad?” He asked with a mix of concern and skepticism.

“Yes.” You sighed. “I have polycystic ovarian syndrome.”

“PCOS?” He asked.

You were shocked. “You know what that is?”

He nodded. “I’ve heard of it.”

“It can make my time of the month super severe.” Stubborn tears leaked from your eyes. You wiped your cheeks with the cuff of your pajama shirt.

You were supposed to be the woman who kicked ass in the boy’s club of corporate law by day and kicked ass as the perfect girlfriend by night.

He was not supposed to see you trembling before him, huddled in pain. He was not supposed to see you on the verge of throwing up from period cramps when he almost died in a hail of bullets less than twelve hours ago. He was never supposed to see how weak you truly were.

He took over wiping your tears with his thumbs. “Scale of 1 to 10—how bad is the pain?”

“Maybe an 8?” You said. It was a 9. If you could’ve managed without your head aching, you would’ve rolled your eyes at yourself. The one thing about dating a profiler is they always know when you’re fibbing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked.

You sniffled. “About my condition or that I’m in pain?”

“I think those are a package deal.” He said gently.

You sighed. Your instinct was to lie, but you stopped yourself. Aaron could see right through you. He was one of the best behavioral analysts in the entire world. For the first leg of your relationship, you’d managed to avoid this confrontation which was a blessing in itself.

“I didn’t want you to see how sick I get. How sick I am.” You toyed with the ends of your hair. “I didn’t want you to know how weak I am.” You whispered.

His eyes softened. “Honey, you’re not weak because you have PCOS."

“There are months where I can’t even stand up.” You said, voice taught with tears.

“And that’s why I need to know." He smoothed your hair. "Have you been going through this every month by yourself?”

“Since I moved out of my mother’s place for undergrad, yeah.” You sniffled with a watery smirk.

He wrapped an arm around your back, then hesitated. “Can I hug you?”

“Please.” You whispered

He pulled you into a hug. His hold was looser than normal, but his embrace still filled you with warmth from head to toe.

“Darling, I love you so much.” Aaron said. “I would never look down on you for this.”

“It’s just…I’m not used to….”

“Being this vulnerable.” Aaron finished sympathetically.

You nod. “It’s just…I get so sick. It makes me so ugly.”

He shook his head. “Hey.” He made sure you were looking him in the eye. “You’re never ugly.”

You chuckled. “You’ll revisit that answer when you see me dry heaving at 3 in the morning.” You said, unpleasant nights resurfacing.

His lips don’t do so much as quirk upwards. Rather, he looked shattered. He squeezed your hands. “I won’t.”

“What can I do to help?” He pivoted.

“You can change the sheets.” You looked to the top corner of the ensuite door frame as more tears welled. “And go back to bed.”

“I won't ever leave you on the bathroom floor in pain, alone.”

“But you should.” You said. He cupped your cheeks with his homey hands. He gently pulled your chin back to level your gaze, but you resisted.

“Why should I?” He asked.

“Because you’re tired. And I’m sick. And I’m broken. And there’s nothing you can do.” You make eye contact and immediately are wracked with full body sobs.

Suddenly, every second of you’d spent building up your self-esteem went out the window as your deepest insecurities broke through. You were never supposed to be a burden to him.

He pulled you into chest and wrapped you in his arms..“Helping you when you’re sick is never a burden. I love you so much.”

“What if you get tired of me?” What if this made him stop loving you?

“I won’t.” He promised.

He pressed another kiss to your forehead. “We’ll return to this conversation when you’re feeling better.” He stroked your cheekbone with his thumb. “What helps? Do you have medication?”

“I have daily medication. I’m still working with my doctor to get a regimine that works.” You wiped your eyes. “Heat helps. I drink this peppermint tea to help my stomach when I’m at home.” You rambled.

“The one by that British brand?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“When I saw their tea in your apartment, I bought some to keep here. I might have some peppermint. I’ll be back, honey.” He left you with a kiss on the cheek.

The tailoring he did to his world to accommodate you would never cease to flutter your heart.

The pleasant moment was quickly halted by your stomach bubbling.

As A’s slippers padded down the stairs, you crawled across the tile floor over to the toilet. You forced your head between your knees.

About ten minutes later, you heard the clack of his slippers against the bathroom floor. “Nauseous?” He asked.

You nodded.

He sat the mug close to you. “Your tea to your left within arm's reach. I’m going to grab some blankets and pillows. I’ll be right back. Shout if you need something.”

You learned by “some blankets and pillows” Aaron meant an entire blanket set.

As you leaned your head back against the wall, Aaron began prepping your makeshift bed. In your peripheral vision, you laid pillows as floor cushioning.

“I won’t judge you if you go to sleep in bed. This gets ugly.”

“Baby, I’m an FBI agent for the BAU. Even if you threw up on me, it wouldn’t make the list of the top fifty gross things I’ve experienced by miles.”

You scooched onto a pillow. Aaron slipped the blankets around you.

Your head found the soft crook of his neck. He pressed his head onto yours, and the pressure instantly relaxed you. Unfortunately, your your uterine muscles corkscrewed. You squirmed in pain.

Aaron shushed you. “You need to breathe. This will pass, just breathe.”

You clasped his hand like a lifeline. What feels like hours later, when the pain begins to ebb away, you pant, “It’s alright if you need to go to sleep.” Aaron already relayed his plans to go into the office on Saturday morning to attack some dense paperwork.

He placed his free hand overtop of yours. “You will always be a priority for me. I hope I’ve shown you by now that I will always take care of you.”

You smiled into his shoulder.

“Also, the heating pad is charging in the bedroom, and, before you ask about the sheets, they’re already in the wash.”

You sighed in happiness. “I could kiss you right now.”

“What’s stopping you?” Gently, he pressed his lips to the top of your forehead.

You smiled again. You could count on your hand the number of times you’d smiled when you’re like this: on the bathroom floor, nauseous and dizzy.

You squeezed his knee with your free hand. “You promise you’ll stay with me?”

“Of course I’ll stay with you. I love you. And, just for the record…this may be tough, but you're not ugly and you're not weak. You're braver than you think and more beautiful than you know. I'm grateful to be the one holding you through this."

In the coming days, you’re certain you’ll have a laundry list of next steps from your boyfriend: call your doctor, check in with a dietitian, monitor stress, anything he could think of to lessen these symptoms. He’ll probably want to talk more about why you didn’t tell him sooner.

But, for now, you're both satisfied with sitting on the bathroom floor and riding this out. And in a moment where the pain could split you in pieces, you somehow felt whole.

Author's Note: I'm happy to say the 100 follower celebration fics are finally going live!

I hope you're having a good day or night! Thanks for taking the time to read my work! And, to anyone struggling with a condition similar to the reader's: you, too, are braver than you think and more beautiful than you know!

xoxo,

shewroteaworld

#aaron hotchner x reader #shewroteaworld 100 follower celebration #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #ssa aaron hotchner

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girliism · 2 months

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70s cult leader art who picked up your friend from the grocery store on day and you haven’t seen her since.

“hello” you hear a voice you haven’t heard in months.

“oh my god? are you ok no ones seen you for months. i thought you died.”

“died?” she laughs through the phone. “i haven’t died in fact i feel more alive than ever.”

“well, where the hell have been?”

“that’s what i called you for, i want you to come visit me. it’s been so long and i missed you dearly. he even said you could spend the weekend.” he?

you don’t question it to much telling her you’ll be there. she gives you the address and says to come on friday.

you leave early in that morning, the california sun beating down on you through the window as you approach a huge house. you eagerly park your car getting out to see your friend.

“i’m so glad you came.” she pulls you in for a tight hug. “god, i missed you so much.” you hold her just a little bit longer before pulling notice something on her upper arm. “what’s this?” you stroke the mark on her arm. “looks like a tattoo but worse.” she pulls away from you. “it’s nothing. come on i’ll show you around. and don’t worry about your bags someone will grab them.”

the house was beautiful. a giant staircase and a crystal chandelier hangs in the foyer. “holy shit.” you stare in awe. your friend laughs at your reaction. “i know right wait til you see the rest of the house.”

“and this is where you’ll be sleeping here with me.” it was a huge room, lots of windows and six beds lined up next to each other. “you can have the bed on the end-” “girls.” you turn around to a man with blonde curly hair dressed in a long silk rob and tiny underwear. “art!” your friend goes up to place a kiss on his lips. oh? “art, this is my friend the one i was telling you about.” you hold you hand out for him to shake but his immediately pulls you in for a hug. “it’s so great to finally meet you. i hope you have a fun time here.” he pulls away with a big smile on his face before leaving. “isn’t he just so great.” your friend stared at the now empty door way. “anyways you should probably change out of those jeans before i show you outside. it gets terribly hot.”

dressed in a loose white dress you and your friend walk through the garden. “this is our garden all of our produce is grown here by our garden members.” they were all naked sporting the same mark on their arm as your friend. she showed you the rest of the huge property and soon it was time for dinner.

the dining room was full of talking and laughing. three long tables placed next to each other. you sat in the middle one. the room got quite when art walked in. “family, today we are joined by a new friend. i hope you all made her feel welcome.” yes is echoed throughout the room. “join hands and thank the divine for blessing us with such a beautiful harvest and such a beautiful guest.” they all joined hands thanking the divine before passing food around starting up conversations again.

art watched you the whole night. they way your lips wrapped around the fork how easy you got a long with every one. maybe you were what was missing from the house.

“you got so lucky tonight. you got to sit at his table right next to him.” you friend said to you from her bed. it was night and you and your friend were talking about the day you had. “what’s so great about this art guy.” you say. everyone here seems so obsessed with him. “he’s amazing. when he found me i was so sad and hiding it from you, but he saw that and he helped me.” you hummed. “well i’m glad you’re happier now.”

you get awoken in the middle of the night by howling and the urge to pee.

the old house creeks below you feet as you walk back from the bathroom when you hear it. moans. they were coming from a room and the door wasn’t all the way closed, so against your better judgment you looked through the crack. you saw bodies fucking in a perfect circle with art in the middle, two people going down on him. what the fuck? you accidentally push the door causing it to creek. art snaps his eye to yours making quick contact with you. you gasp moving back immediately making your way back to the room. you replay the scene in your head pushing a pillow in between your legs grinding against it softly.

the kitchen is busy that morning, people moving in and out of it. your friend spots you coming up to hug you. “good morning. how was your sleep?” “it was fine. um what’s going on here.” you pick up and apple from the fruit bowl but it’s ripped out your hand. “no eating that those are for tonight.” you ask what tonight was. “the first full moon of the summer. we’re gonna be camping outside, oh i do hope you stay for it.” “oh uh i wouldn’t want to intrude.” you say shaking your head. your friend smile drops “that’s ok. it’s been so much fun either way i do hope you come back and visit.” she shrugs going back to preparing for tonight.

you were packing your bag up getting ready to leave when someone comes in tell you art what’s to see you in his office. you make your way to his office knocking on his door. you hear a soft come in and you walk in taking a seat in front of him. “i hear you’re not gonna stay for the full moon camp out.” art says leaning back in his chair blue eyes locking with yours. you draw a breath looking away. “i just as an outsider wouldn’t want to crash you know.” art laughs getting up to take a seat on the desk in front of you holding your hands in his lap. “please, we would love to have you join us.” his thumbs stroke the back of your hands.

so you find your in another white flowy dress walking bare foot up a hill arm hooked with your friends. “i’m so happy you decided to stay you’re gonna have so much fun.” you friend smiles.

“drink this and find a spot.” you drink the mysterious drink the guy at the top of the hill. you start to fill whatever it is you drank, your muscles feel loose and the flames in front of you look as if they are waving. you see your friend encourage you to get up and dance with her so you do. jumping and twisting dancing around the fire getting lost in the night. art watches from his spot before getting up to dance too, grabbing your hand pulling you off to a more secluded area.

art pushes you to lay on the grass hovering over you pulling the strap of your dress down. you moan at how his touch shockes you. whatever you drank has you overly sensitive and needy. “i saw you watching us last night in the shadows.” your bare tits get exposed to the cold night air nipples harden. “you wanted to join just us or did you want me all to yourself.” art pulls your head that was rolling to the side smacking your cheek to get your eyes to open. “yes, i wanted you i even went back in my bed and touched myself.” you whine at the filling of art’s fingers teasing your cunt.

you were so high. your eyes glossed over and drool spilling out of your mouth that art licks ups slipping his tongue in your mouth. “want you to fuck me with your cock.” the small sober part of you was confused on why you were acting like this, but the major part of your mind felt fuzzy, and art hands holding your thighs open made you want to cum on the spot just from his touch.

art chuckled at your directness. “i can do that.” art pulls is cock out of his pants pushing it into your wet heat. “fuck.” he grunts bottoming out. the second he enters you, you feel reborn like his cock was what was missing from your life. “oh my god.” your eyes roll back. art shakes his head. “no, not god. the divine.” he smiles at you bringing one of your legs up over his shoulder and starts fucking into you.

“i thank the divine for bringing you here for bringing me such a welcoming pussy to lay my sperm.” art kisses all over your face gripping your breast hard, panting like a dog in your ear.

“art art art - oh fuck - fuck me harder.” you whine. the twigs on the ground scrap your back, and art is punching the sweet spot inside you with his dick.

art starts licking and sucking on your breast, leaving faint bite marks there. “the best fucking pussy. need you to stay with me, rule with me in my divine kingdom.” everything art’s saying and how his thumbs moves fast on your clit has you blanking. absolutely nothing is being thought. the only thing echoing up there is arts pleads of staying with him.

“i think i’m gonna come.” you dig your nail into his arm as your cum gushes down his cock. you don’t know when art cums in you but he does. the only thing you do know is how you feeling like your floating. everything around you seems so bright and vibrant. is this the divine?

you come back to reality when art kisses your lips asking if your were ok. “i’m more than ok, i’m perfect.” you breathe out. art smiles down at you. “so you’ll stay with me?” art ask taking advantage of the state you were in.

“yes, i’ll do whatever for you.” you and art lay there under the full moon.

(poor girl was tripping off shrooms thinking she’s having a religious experience 🙂‍↔️)

#girliism #challengers #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #cult leader!art #not proofread i will do that later

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pastel-greene · 1 month

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The Daughter | king!sukuna x curse user!reader

Prologue | Chapter 1 - The Summons | Chapter 2

Summary: The mother of curses happens upon a blind child and decides to impart a portion of her power to them as an experiment of sorts. The power morphs the child in their image until they are part curse and part human. So what happens when they get employed by the King of Curses? Will humanity bloom as newfound emotions flow between the two? Or will they usher in an era of never ending terror?

Notes: not all of this will be canon, it will be loosely based off of the jjk universe :) taglist is open, comment ur request on any chapter to be tagged in the next

Genre: female reader, fluff, angst, ‘loads’ of smut, violence, sukuna true form but like not with the weird face just two sets of stuff, dark reader

Warnings: profanity, explicit smut (two dick sukuna, sadistic sex, sub reader, dom sukuna, biting, oral m & f receiving, pet names, more to be added), violence, depictions of gore, dark minds cause yk, mentions of rape, toxic relationships, chaotic neutral reader, trauma, possessiveness from reader and sukuna, torture, vampire themes (reader’s blood is infused with the Mother of curses so if a curse user is to drink it it basically gives them a temporary stat boost bc what can i say vampire sukuna seems hot), and more to be added as the story progresses

Word count: 7.3k

This work contains mature content, so absolutely no minors I will block you if I find out :)

His eyes glaze over as they roam your body. The need within them allowing you to twirl his inhibitions around your finger and use them as a leash to guide him. He knows he shouldn’t let you close, but closer you get and god does it feel good. He knows he shouldn’t follow your command without an ounce a dignity, but oh how he wants to please you. He would do anything for you without a single question now that all his pesky thoughts were gone. The perfect toy to play with.

The man before you is the leader of a growing religious faction that preached about being able to save people from damnation for only a small price. He made promises of how his newfound god could protect anyone from the horrors of the world and all they needed to do was follow a set of rules— and of course money. It started with one bronze coin before growing to three silver coins. It also started as something one could choose to participate in before it slowly turned into a cult you were forced to be apart of. If you didn’t have money to pay the initiation fee, then you had to give up something else. If you were a married man, you could give up your virgin daughter and be granted a higher position in the hierarchy. If you didn’t have a daughter then you could give up your wife for general admission. If you were a woman without a husband, then you often were never seen again. If you didn’t willingly give one, then they would come and take what they falsely claimed was theirs and justify it with the name of religion. Sometimes even if you gave one, they would come back to take the other.

This contract came to you from a woman whose husband had sold their daughter. She didn’t offer anything material, but begged you to take her offer. You’re not one for charity, but you are one for dark pleasures. You asked if she would kill her husband and then herself, as punishment and payment for not protecting their daughter’s safety. She didn’t even hesitate to say yes. All she could think about was freeing her daughter from their grasp, her loss of life was of no consequence, and killing her husband… Killing her husband for selling their daughter away like a piece of meat would just be an added bonus.

So here you are, in the preacher’s chambers showing him a facade of paradise. Your smiles, your laughs, you lingering touches driving him further and further away from reason. Your power seeped into him, you could do it immediately and have him never see it coming, but that would be too easy. You wanted him to remember making the decisions that led to his downfall. You want to see the mortified look on his face as he realizes he chose this fate. The way his face would contort from panic as the weight of his sins crashes down on him. The way the panic would blend into fear fueled hysteria as he started lashing out and revealing the rest of his true colors. So you’re taking the long way. You’re setting everything into place so everyone can witness a showcase of reality that’ll send them into chaos.

”Mistress please, let me touch you,” he says begs while blindfolded to a chair. A chair he didn’t know had been transported to a very public area that people started to flock to. Horror and disgust on their features as they watched the man who boasted about how high and mighty he was begging for sexual pleasure. Your powers infected his senses so he couldn’t hear or feel anything you didn’t want him to. They also kept any party crashes from getting too close to the scene.

”Wrong line,” you said before letting the sturdy piece of wood in your hand lash against his skin. He let out a scream accompanied with a melody of sorries.

”Mother I have sinned,” a smile crept across your face at the ode to your Mother.

”Is that so? List me your sins and oink after each one to show what a filthy fucking pig you are.”

”I have lied to the people in this city. The god I made is not real, I made them up from a story I heard a few towns over. They were all just stupid and desperate enough to believe in it and hand over all of their valuables, oink!.”

The crowd’s faces were painted with disbelief and anger as the truth was unveiled. Dark thoughts started brewing between them making your blood hum as they continued to watch the scene unfold.

You let the wood crack down on the tops of his bare thighs once again, “What else are you guilty of?”

”I took their wives and daughters for my own sadistic pleasures. Me and the higher ups used those filthy bitches while they kicked and screamed against us. We would use them until we had our fill. Then I sold them off to the highest bidder. Some continued being sex slaves, others became mediums for sadistic fantasies, oink,” he said this line with a smile on his face as he recounted all of the deeds he had done to the girls.

Mothers that remained sobbed and some broke down in the street while others started taking their pain out on their husbands. Blood started to spatter as the number of fights spread like an airborne illness. Men started shouting and punching against the barrier you had put up, some fought out of love for their stolen family members and other fought out of spite for the harmed ego.

You let the wood smack down directly onto his dick and his scream echoed throughout the night skies before being silenced by his thank yous. “What else are you guilty of little piggy?”

”I told the higher members that I would get them into heaven. That all they had to do was listen to me and it would all turn out okay, but we are all damned now. I wanted everyone in this town to be as damned as me and now they are. They think there is a higher god but I am the god here. My words are law, my will is reality, those fucking sheep will give up their own fucking innards if I asked them, oink,” his words started carrying a laugh the more he went on. He actually believed that in this world he held power. You let out a laugh at the thought and he thought you were laughing with him.

”Tell me the names of the men who did this with you.” He started spewing out a list of names and with each one read a new fight began. The crowd dogpiled on whichever one they first laid eyes on and started bludgeoning them to death.

”What a good pig. I have a gift for you for being so good,” you said as the girls and women who survived his kidnapping came out from the building behind you each holding their preferred weapon. The crowd went still at the site of their neighbors, wives, and daughters. The abuse and torment they had undergone was evident as in the faces, clothes, and bodies. But it was their eyes where it showed the most. There was no light in them, no, currently that light was completely consumed by the darkness of revenge. They gathered around him in a circle, quietly waiting for their part.

”Mistress you are too kind to a soiled pig like me,” he said clearly thinking the present would be something splendid he would receive in the privacy of his own quarters.

You drew closer to him and brushed your hands along the sides of his as you removed his blindfold from behind, allowing him a full view of his victims. His eyes grew wide as he took in his surroundings.

”Wh-w-what-t’s happening? Where am I,” he asked in a panicked frenzy as he saw the girls and the bloodied crowd before him.

You walked around to the front of him, “Do you not recognize your own subjects?”

”You witch this can’t be real, we-we were just in my quarters. I would have heard them, I-I would have felt us move!” He started pulling against the restraints but they remained the same. “Don’t believe anything! This is all a lie! A facade put on by her! She is a witch! You need to kill her! Whoever kills her gets to join me at the top!”

You smiled down at the pathetic man, “Goodbye, little piggy,” you said as you started walking.

You looked to the girls, “You have 20 minutes before the others can approach him.”

They nodded at you and started circling the man as you walked into the building they came out of. You could hear the way they made him sing as they tore into him. You had fed enough of your energy into him that he would stay alive and conscious until the barrier fell no matter how much damage he took. He would feel every ounce of revenge they had for him. Inside, there was still one girl. The girl in your contract. You took her hand and told her you were taking her home. She had heard and saw what you had done. She gave you no hesitation as she walked behind you. Upon getting to the house, the mother rushed to her daughter with open arms. They both sobbed as they hugged each other and fell to the ground.

You let them have a minute before clearing your throat. The mother looked up to you and then back down to her daughter. She held her face and then wiped away her tears, telling her something you didn’t bother to catch. The girl looked up at you while still on her knees and started begging and crying. It all fell on deaf ears as you took the mother into their house where her husband was currently tied up. You handed her the dagger your Mother had given you all those years ago and she grabbed it tight in her hands.

”Thank you,” she said while smiling at you through watery eyes. She then turned around and stabbed her husband over and over. Each plunge accompanied by a scream of liberation. She looked down at his mangled torso before taking a deep breath and looking at the moon “Thank you,” she said again before plunging the dagger into her own abdomen. You grabbed the dagger and left, walking past the daughter who was still on her knees outside.

When you finally made it back to your home the sun was rising, you were exhausted. You grabbed an already open bottle of sake and took it to your bed deciding to forego a glass. Most crimes didn’t bother you but you always hated ones they dealt with girls being sold. It made you want to take the whole town off of the map for letting it go on for so long. The way that mother ran to her daughter irked you too. You couldn’t remember your parents or really anything before being sold. You had always assumed they realized you were blind and got rid of you as quickly as they could. You knew there would never have been anyone waiting for you with open arms after going through the traumatic events you did. It would have always been you having to comfort yourself, telling yourself it was okay. And that was okay…

You awoke sometime around noon to a fight happening in the hallway of where you were staying. Some man didn’t have something he owed the other man blah blah blah. Didn’t they know where you were? This was the city of night. Arguing that loud while it was still light out was a death sentence. You opened your door to look at them. It was two well dressed men—obviously not from around here. Your guess is that one of them was hiding from some debts here and the other came to collect.

”Keep your fucking voice down before I rip out your vocal cords and shove them up your ass”. Heh then he could really talk out of his ass.

”Mind your own business whore. Where’s your owner to keep you in—,” his sentence was cut short by your hand around his throat.

”Go on, finish your sentence,” you said without letting up on his throat. All that came out were gurgles as his face started to darken. You were fully ready to kill him when your friend Ieriri opened her door and sighed.

”Can’t we have a morning without a body in the hall?” She leaned against the doorframe clearly feeling the full effects of a hangover, her lips pouting into a plea.

”I thought you would enjoy a new body to experiment on Ieiri,” you said returning your own pout as you slightly loosened your grip on the man’s throat. “Plus he was so mean to me”.

”Ple-ease am- sorry,” the man choked out as he held onto your hand.

Ieiri put her hands together as she begged you to just let it be. You sighed and eyed the man that he was obviously here for.

“Both of you, out—now”.

The other man went to rebuttal but immediately shut his mouth when he felt your aura pierce through him. You released the man you were holding and he grabbed the other man by his hair before dragging him down the hallway and out of the building. You groan as you haggardly waltz into Ieiri’s room, still exhausted from your interrupted sleep.

”Well come in,” she jokingly says since you’re already on laying on her bed. She closes her door and comes to lay with you, “rough night?”

You sigh and nod your head. “I had a job a few villages over that required a lot of setup and was extremely fucked up. Like I will think I am fucked up, but when I see towns like that, I almost feel like a fucking saint,” you laugh.

”Fuck I know, right? I almost like going to towns like that though because I enjoy feeling like a saint and holding myself over people”, she says while literally holding herself over you which makes you laugh.

”Oh hardy har. Please madame teach me the ways of civility, turn me into a real upstanding lady!”

You both can’t help but laugh as she crawls into bed next to you. You had found Ieiri when you first came to this town 12 years ago. You were both children stealing for food, but she had gotten caught and almost killed on the spot for it. You had saved her and she had been glued to your side ever since. At first you kept telling her to go away, after all, you had never had a friend before. You didn’t know what to do with it, what she wanted. So you dealt with it the only way that made sense to you. You made it a partnership. She had knowledge of the town and you had power. You guys became town menaces in a town already full of them. It was the perfect paradise for you. Now you both knew it was more than a partnership, it was true companionship. You considered her to be like a sister and would turn the world over if anyone ever hurt her, but you would be surprised if they could. You had been teaching her how to use cursed energy ever since you felt a trace of it within her. She could easily hold her own against an average human. Your giggles died down as you both found rest in each other’s arms.

You walked the streets of your home. Some people gave you friendly greetings, some even approached you for a hug, while others hurried past you and didn’t dare to make eye contact. In a town full of criminals and assassins, they knew you were at the top of the food chain. Those who had challenged you in the past were either never heard from again or had come back so altered it was like there was no one home behind their eyes. Just walking zombies. Those were the ones you let Shoko play with. After running whatever experiments she wanted on them, they came out a ghost of their former selves.

You made your way to your favorite bar and as you came in the barkeep brought out an imported bottle of tequila that he knew you loved. Your eyes lit up as you beelined towards him. “Kentooo you shouldn’t have,” you said as you reached for it.

He pulled it back to your shock, “Oh I shouldn’t have? My mistake I will sell it to someone else then”, he said with an apologetic bow reeking of sarcasm. You put out your lips in a pout but he didn’t budge so you sighed.

”Thank you so much my knight in booze plated armor for remembering my favorite drink and fighting the terrifying trade company to retrieve it. I give you my most sincere thanks for bringing it back to me in one piece. Your efforts shall not go unacknowledged, what shall thy knight’s request entail,” you said with laughable grandeur.

He tried his best to keep up his end of the rouse but once one laugh fell through they all did. “You’re a little shit (Y/N)”, he said while opening the bottle and pouring you both a shot.

“And you’re an idiot for not taking up the invitation for me to grant you one request,” you said while clinking his glass and downing a shot with him.

”We will just say you owe me one then,” you were about to rebuttal but he remembered something,”By the way, you have a client in the back room waiting for you. He said he was a messenger for Lord… uhm well you know who.”

It wasn’t often you saw Kento get nervous but whoever’s name he was referencing definitely did it. You motioned your eyebrows to ask who but he acted as if a customer called him and walked off.

”Hey, where are you, KENTOOOO,” you shouted behind him to no avail. You sighed and grabbed the bottle as you walked towards the back to meet a messenger of Lord Spooky apparently.

In the back you saw a man in a very expensive garb and figured that was who you were looking for. You sat down at the table he was waiting for you at and took a drink.

”What do you want,” you said with little regard. Lords usually wanted some other Lord killed or a crime hidden away. They were also usually stingy and tried to slip payments thinking you couldn’t touch them. Man you hated dealing with them.

”I am a messenger of King Sukuna, he has requested your presence,” he said showing the same lack of regard to you. To him, you looked like a wench with a drinking issue. Not an asset.

You just looked at him, “Get out of here you fucking liar. The King has no interest in people here. We’re all just swine to him.”

His eyebrow twitched in annoyance, “While I don’t rebuke you being swine”, ohohohhh this motherfucker wanted to walk out with his head facing his ass, “he did indeed request your presence in the throne room, by 10 tomorrow.”

You blinked a few times, “So let me get this straight, the King wants me there by 10 tomorrow? It is currently 2 in the morning, and it takes 7 hours to get to his shrine. So within an hour I am supposed to drop everything and go?”

”Well you see, I arrived here 6 hours ago but this forsaken town doesn’t wake up until the sun is down, so technically you were going to have 2 hours to get ready, we would have left four hours ago, and then had plenty of time to fix your appearance for the king. But now, we will be leaving immediately and hoping there is time to wash the stench of booze from you and find out if there is a presentable version of you”.

Gobsmacked. Your jaw was left open at his onslaught of words and you were about to shove your fingers through his neck and beat the rest of his body with his skull when he held up the King’s stamp. Holy shit. You grabbed it and looked at it closer. It was real. It was really fucking real. The King wanted to see you. The King that had so many fucking horror stories written about him that maybe it actually should be Lord Spooky instead of King Sukuna.

”Uhm, well give me 20 minutes and I will meet you back here,” you said while getting up still feeling a little surreal.

What did the King want? Was this going to go bad and turn into a fight? There were very few people you didn’t want to seriously throw down with and he was one of them. From what you have heard, he is a powerful curse user like you surrounded by other less powerful curse users. Fuuuck if you were going to fight you wanted to do it in a neutral area not his fucking shrine. That’s not even fair. Although, it also made your blood tingle at the prospect of fighting someone at your level. Someone who also used cursed energy and was absolutely fucked in the head. Maybe a fight wouldn’t be bad.

”You have 10 and if you run the King will come here himself to retrieve you and take out this town in the process,” he said while getting up and walking towards the door where his carriage was ready, “Don’t. Be. Late.”

Kento who had heard the last bit of the conversation looked at you in shock before inching closer. “What was that about? Why would the King come here? Why does he want you? What the fuck did you do?” He was directly in front of you while rambling off questions. You just hugged him. “Don’t touch my tequila while I am away.”

You hurriedly ran to Ieiri’s and told her the gist of the conversation and your goodbyes. She was reluctant but knew you could handle yourself, even if it was against the King. She knew you would come back home, so you hugged and then left.

You made it back to the carriage with a just a small knapsack. You didn’t keep much with you. You had your dagger, some snacks, money, and some changes of clothes. Not that you expected to be able to wear the clothes as your usual attire wasn’t really fit for where you were going. You assumed they would continue to “make you presentable” while you were there.

”On time. I suppose you do have some class,” the messenger said as he opened the door for you and motioned for you to enter.

You gave a sarcastic bow while holding his eye contact, “Opening the door for me, I suppose you do know your place, peasant,” you said with a grin as you got in and he followed with a face so red it was almost purple.

The ride was very long, and very bumpy. “Soo, what’s your name,” you asked.

He just scoffed at your question and refused to look like you.

”So you’re just going to act like a child then?”

Nothing. More silent treatment.

Act like a child? Two could play at that game. “Hey, hey, hey, HEEEEEEYYY-“

”WHAT”, he cut you off seething.

”I asked you a question.”

”I don’t answer to you.”

”Do I have to repeatedly scream my questions to get you to answer them?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Geto Suguru”.

”Seeee that wasn’t that hard,” you said much to his annoyance, “so what does the King want with me?”

”He will tell you when we get there. And before you scream at me that is all I am allowed to say so please let me ride in peace.”

You sighed. You guess you can ride in silence with him but there will be no peace for you. You wanted to be a little shit and make sure there was no peace for him either but given his obvious disdain towards someone of your class you were sure it wasn’t peaceful for him either. Whatever you thought as you leaned back into your chair and looked at the ceiling of the carriage.

At some point you had dozed off because Geto kicked you in the leg to get you to wake up. Or well tried. As soon as you sensed his foot near your leg you stood and raised your leg to the side of his throat. For the first time you saw his expression change from annoyance to shock. He was sure you were dead asleep from how you were snoring and drooling, but here you were with a kick that left air to blow in his face from the sudden stop next to his neck. He didn’t even see it coming. Maybe you could be an asset after all.

”Y’know a simple hey would suffice next time ass wipe,” you said while lowering your foot and exiting the open carriage door. The attendants kept their heads bowed but you could tell they were just as shocked from the scene and some had to stifle laughter from your insult to him.

You stretched your arms up over your head as you got out and let rip a hearty yawn. As you finished you started taking in the shrine and palace. It was so clean, obviously Sukuna had some very good help with how spotless this place was. You looked at the attending and noticed that even they were well kept. With all the rumors about him you almost expected them to be in haggard loin clothes covered in dirt. Instead they all wore black and red kimonos. They were simple but still nicer than what you wore when in a hoity toity setting. You wore a simple loose shirt that hung off your shoulder when knocked out of the center, loose pants with deep pockets, and an expensive pair of boots with steel on top of the toe. It wasn’t fancy but with how much blood got on your clothes there wasn’t a point in buying nicer ones.

“Weapons are not permitted. Hand over all that you have,” Geto said as he walked up beside you.

You figured it would be like that so you had used your magic earlier to slip the dagger your Mother gave you into a pocket realm and handed the rest over to Geto.

He looked down at the daggers you gave him, “Anymore?”

”Nope,” you said before trying to continue onwards to which Geto reached his arm out and barred your entry. “Oh what now?”

”I don’t believe you.”

You sighed and spread your arms and legs, “Go on then search me”.

He felt up your legs to your thighs to your back pockets. His body towering over you as you stared into his chest. His hands slid from your ass to your waist and then started moving up until they cupped under your breasts.

”Oi they’re not bombs they’re my tits, although I can understand the confusion since that sour look you wear makes it seem as if you’ve never been laid,” you said while looking up at him.

”I know what they are, although given their size I almost thought they were little bombs,” he said with a smile while moving his hands to your back and then finally up your shoulders and down your arms.

You just laughed at his comment. Your boobs were not the biggest but not the smallest either. You never had any complaints from past lovers so you felt indifferent about it.

”Well now that you know that they aren’t a bomb but just the bomb, are we done?”

He shook his head at your comment but you swore there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. Maybe all it took for him to start to like you was almost kicking his head off. He jerked his head to the side in gesture for you to follow so you did. Once on the grounds, you got to see how diligent his servants truly worked. They worked very obssesively all with their heads bowed, refusing to make eye contact with anything aside from what they were doing.

”Why are everyone’s heads bowed,” you asked.

”It is a rule. Keep your head down so you don’t make eye contact with the King on accident. If they do they are killed right where they stand.”

“Why can’t I look at him? Is he… y’know not quite-“

“I’m going to stop you right there. You may be a requested guest but you will be killed all the same for disrespecting the King. He is fine, it is a sign of disrespect to look him in the eye so don’t,” he said while guiding you into the servant’s wing of the palace.

You couldn’t help but giggle, “So you think he is fine, huh? That why you don’t like boobs?”

”Gods you’re insufferable”, he led you into a room with a bath waiting and a few female servants. “Bathe and get dressed—quickly. I expect you outside in 20 minutes”, he said before closing the door and leaving you alone with the other women.

They came to help you undress but you gave them a gentle wave of no while smiling and thanking them for the offer while you undressed yourself. You noticed them staring at your body. You were probably the most muscular woman they had seen and you had a few scars on your back and abdomen from before you were gifted by the Mother. You just smiled at their stares and got into the bath helping them quickly scrub you clean. The products they were using smelled like lavender and bergamot. Scents you didn’t realize you were quite fond of until basking in them. You got through the bath quickly and moved onto dressing. They put a black and red robe on you that was made of a nicer material than theirs and had designs along the inner trim and bottom of the sleeves. They went to put socks and sandals on you but you protested asking to just wear your boots. They looked mortified and panicked. You wondered if they would get killed if you showed up differently than planned so you just sighed and put on the socks and sandals. They tied your hair up into an intricate bun with black pins donning red tassles holding it into place. They moved onto your face applying a dark stroke of black to line your eyes and dark red lipstick that reminded you of how you look when you bite people.

You were sure they normally do more given all the beauty products laying in front of you but time was up. You bowed and thanked them to their dismay, a smile forming on their lips, as you went to the door. When you open it you meet Geto standing there waiting. “Alright time to go”, he said but as he turned towards you he stopped. Once again, surprise bloomed across his features.

“Oh piss off. A sprinkle of makeup didn’t transform me, let’s go”, you said while walking off.

“Wrong way”, he shouted which made you turn around and start towards the opposite end of the corridor that he had already started walking towards. He had found your features to be attractive before, so no you didn’t transform, but gods did you look good like that. If only he could wash and redress your attitude.

Before opening the door Geto reminded you to not look at the King, not to cuss, to be respectful, not to speak unless spoken to, and basically go against all of your natural instincts. To which you sarcastically thanked him and took a deep breath. You had played many roles over the years and this was no different. You calmed your energy down until you could feel it was perfectly poised, put on a friendly yet neutral face, put your hands together in your kimono sleeves, and kept you head down as Geto led you into the throne room.

You could feel the King’s presence as well as a less stronger presence beside his throne. There were a few other people in the room but you and Geto were the only other ones with cursed energy. The odds of winning a fight against all of them would be absolutely rough, unless you put them in your domain. There it would be them against an army of your creations, but you wanted to keep your domain under wraps for as long as you could.

You could feel all of their eyes on you, sizing you up as well. Gods it was so fucking stupid that you couldn’t look at them as well. The hypocrisy made you want to look directly in his eyes and flip him the bird. Shit you almost let out a little giggle at that. Keep your thoughts cool dammit.

“Welcome (Y/N), I have heard a lot about you”, a voice with a deep timbre and light rumble said. You didn’t have to look to know it was the King.

“I wasn’t aware you had heard of me my King, but I am honored at your invitiation”, you said with a practiced voice that had Geto side eyeing you wondering where the fuck the actual you went.

You could hear him getting up in his seat, but didn’t give into the desire to look.

“Do you know why I called you here, (Y/N)”, he said as he started descending down the steps leading to his throne.

“No, my King. I-“, you feel a wave of cursed energy shoot towards you and step out of the way of it before feeling the King’s energy approaching you rapidly. You brace yourself and he appears in front of you, you manage to keep up with his speed and dodge his incoming physical attacks while using your cursed energy to fend off his own. His attacks have no malice behind them and he is keeping you two in a small radius clear of destroying anything, so you assume this is likely a test. You keep your head down and your arms in your sleeves. You feel as if you’re doing well at the test until two more arms appear from nowhere.

What the fuck is this asshole part spider? How many fucking arms does he have?

Just when everyone in the room thinks that he has you in his grasp, you disappear. They’re left in confusion as they look around for you.

”Do you know why I am here my King,” you ask from in front of his throne with a slight hint of sarcasm on ‘my King’, your places now switched from how they began.

He smiled before appearing right in front of you again, “Serve me”, he whispered in your ear.

”Why?”

He let out a maniacal laugh, “Well one, you have no choice in the matter. You will serve me or die by me. I will be nice and give you a two though”, he said while circling you like a predator, “we are the same. Well maybe not in power, but I have heard of your work. Seen what remains after you're sent to do a job. You don’t just do what the client tells you, no, you sow seeds for cursed energy to grow from, don’t you? I can feel the hunger inside you, the pit that demands chaos paid in blood. Feed it with me”. He is behind you, his face beside your ear again.

“What are the terms of my treatment? Am I stuck here or do I get to go outside the palace? Also, what is your end goal? Why rule, why dominate? What world are you hoping to get out of it?”, you ask turning around to face him, this time staring right into his eyes.

He grabs your throat when you make eye contact, but quickly lets go in slight shock. “Were you draining my power just then?”, he asks with a wild smile on his face.

”Yes my King. I wouldn’t advise touching me against my will. It only takes a few seconds for me to send it to that pit that you mentioned,” you boldly take a step towards him, still maintaining eye contact, “I will work with you but there will be conditions. You will find that I am much nicer to work with when I am happy and that I am very easily made happy”. You say with the smile you learned from your Mother while unleashing the veil you always kept over your power and could feel the others’ spike in response to yours. The humans in the room launched their heads back before looking at the King, eyes matching the color of yours. All of the sorcerers, could feel your power tapping around in the heads, not in them, but letting them know they could end up out of control if they slip up.

Sukuna’s POV

This annoying little bitch coming into my throne room and challenging me. I could stick my fingers through her fucking brain until she has no choice but to be an obedient slave and part of me loves that idea, but the other part loves where this is going. She can disappear from even me and reappear without being sensed, tap into others minds, and drain other users of their power. She may not be as strong as me, but fucking hell are her abilities useful. And something about her presence makes my power hum with a feeling I can't place. Lust? Hate? Familiarity? Fuck I don’t know but I want her near.

I sit back in my throne, eyeing her up and down. With me sitting we are closer to eye level than before. Her eyes look like pools of blood, begging to drown the world in them. “What are your requests then, brat?” I can see the shock on the other sorcerers' faces, but also understanding on Geto’s. He must also realize she is an asset.

“I require alcohol, casual wear fit for fighting, an area where I can train but it doesn’t need to be private, and while I understand I may not be able to leave often, the ability to visit my home for 24 hours at a time not including travel time,” she said while still fucking staring me down. Cheeky bitch. But none of those are terrible, I suppose.

”Oh, and I would like to be able to have sex”, she added while nodding.

”With who?”

”You—“, Geto and Uraume both choked on air at her request as my eyebrows raised. Who does this fucking wench think she is demanding stipulations and then to fuck me I—“ Kidding, sorry. I didn’t really have anyone in particular in mind I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t off the table since this is kinda a shrine”, she said as if she hadn’t just informally joked about having fucking me—her fucking King.

I just sit and stare at her for a minute wondering what the hell goes through her mind that compels her to speak to me so casually. What happened to the demeanor she had in the beginning? Speaking like a bratty fucking whore now that she is close to me. Normally, I would grab her by her fucking throat and slam her around for such insolence, but I can still feel the hole she drained from my power. That ability is pesky as hell. Maybe I can get her to lower it and then smash in her skull. Hmm that would be nice.

“I will agree to your terms, but you will only drink after the sun sets, wear the clothing I choose outside of daily routine, and you may leave three times a year upon my approval and failure to follow those terms will results in losing one of those visitations. You will also speak to me with respect for here on out. I will not hear more slander about fucking a ran through whore like you or I will snap your neck, power drain or not. Are we clear?”

She gives me a shit eating grin before slightly bowing her head, “Crystal clear my King. I look forward to working for you.”

(Y/N) POV

Holy shit why did I say him? What demon inside me fucking compelled me to risk my life over that? Although…everyone’s reaction was funny.

Except the end. Ran through whore? I am sorry, but who is it that has MULTIPLE concubines? Hypocrite.

“Crystal clear my King. I look forward to working with you.”

With that he waves his hand in dismissal and I walk away with my head still bowed and Geto following behind me. Once out of the room he smacks me on the back of the head.

”Fuck you actually do drain people’s energy don’t you?”

”Yea did you think our King was lying? You accuse him of being a liar? Don’t you know that is direct disrespect to him and punishable by death”, you say with a dead serious look as you stare at him.

He stares back absolutely baffled. “If anyone needs advice on how to not get killed by the King it's you. You flat out asked to fuck him like a goddamn maniac”, he says while guiding you to where you assume your quarters will be.

“Yea imagine if we got into a real fight. I wonder how it would go? I think it’d be pointless. We are stronger together. I am more of an asset than any of you know, killing me would suuuuck”, you say with an overly playful tone for the topic.

“How can you be so sure that you’re such an asset that he wouldn’t kill you?”

“Can any of you do what I just did?”

”Teleporting yes and—“

”I didn’t teleport. I went to a different realm that is in this one but not. Can any of you walk between realms?”

”I don’t even know what that means or what to do with that information. You make my brain hurt, for many reasons”, he stops and opens the door in front of you, “these are your quarters. I am sure your servants will be by to take your measurements and specifications for clothes and alcohol preferences soon. Do not leave this room without your attending servants until you have been told you may wander alone. Okay?”

You smile as you walk in and do a few spins in your room, “Yes, I understand. Wait for my servants and don’t leave without them”, you say without looking at Geto as you take in your room. You hear your door close, leaving you to your own devices

Notes: chapter one ayoo hopefully you guys like it. Some notes about the reader and Sukuna

- The reader’s cursed powers follow many techniques just like the Mother’s. The realm in between she mentioned is the Mother’s domain. Her domain is so big it is literally separate realm that exists on top of the other one without detection. The Mother and reader are the only ones that can travel to it. This realm is full of stored cursed energy and curses crafted by the Mother and reader. The Mother and her spawn stay in a palace that the reader cannot reach in that realm as they are taking a hands off approach for a while, so the reader can only use creations made themselves. Similar to Geto’s power but on a larger scale. This will actually make the two of them a good combo in the future.

- Sukuna had someone watch the events described in the beginning. He is interested in the reader because he has heard many accounts of their power and the technique is always different. He has also heard accounts of them lifting grown men twice their size as well as other items of great weight. Her speed has also been made a point of interest. Her bloodlust has also reached his ears and the depictions of gore she has left behind. Her killing didn’t discriminate on age or gender, but he had noticed her scenes were more intense when involving rape.

- The more cursed energy a sorcerer has the more of a pull her blood will have on them because the purer their energy is. It can feel the Mother within it and yearns to feed on it. This is why the King will let her get away with more and will act more erratic around her because he doesn’t know why he feels the way it does but he is oddly possessive/protective of her now. He would still beat her for the insolence if it wouldn’t drain him, but he has no intention of killing her.

- Ieiri knows more about the reader’s powers than anyone else and experiments on people to come up with new ideas for curses. She finds out what hurts the most but keeps the patient alive, different things that affect their vitals, tests on humans and sorcerers to ensure effectiveness, different ways to get inside people’s minds, and an array of ways to attack people in general. This has allowed the reader to create curses completely different than the Mother’s.

- If it came down to a fight, the reader would win in cursed energy, but Sukuna would win in brute strength. It would come down to how both played their cards throughout the match. The reader’s domain is able to open within Sukuna’s and is the inside of the Mother’s palace. So while he may have Malevolent Shrine, she has Malevolent Mother but the reader would rather die than run to her mom, so y’know.

Taglist: @missroro

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iamnotdeadyet · 1 month

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Imagine...

Human! Sukuna x Best Friend!Reader

As surprising as it may be, this HAS been in my mind for a lot of time. Like ...A LOT.

☆I think before being "The King of Curses" Sukuna was never a normal person in the first place. (iykyk)

☆For the sake of the story, he will be a bit more ...friendly.

Some hc :

✦Sukuna never trusted anyone with anything. It was a fact not a statement. That is unless the person was you.

✦He met you in his early teens and it didnt take long for you two to click.

✦The biggest problem you found he had is probably narcissism. He could talk about himself all day and not get tired at all.

✦Would flirt with you just to get you all hot and bothered and maybe sometimes gave himself a boner with his own words. Ironic right?

✦He has jerked off to you multiple time and he's shameless about it too. Probably admitted it out of nowhere.

"And that's-"

"I jerked off to you last night. At three a.m. I don't know why but I imagined you in missionary. Fuck, I'm getting clichè..."

"Sukuna what in the fu--"

✦You didn't talk to him for a few days after that so he came to "apologize" for his statement. It wasn't even an apology.

✦Probably threw rocks to your window to get you to get out and if you did, he would give you some type of food you like. If you do not he'll just give up.

☆After you managed to get over that confession of his, he got more...touchy.

☆Would try to get you to sit on his lap just to start something.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

°And when you did? It was a sealed deal.

°Immediately his hands went to spread your thighs and no matter how much you tried to protest he just didn't budge.

°Two of his fingers found your your clit before spreading your pussy lips and then back to your clit again. Circling it in slow, lazy motions until your slick covered the tips of your fingers and those sweet whimpers filled his ears.

°Then he snapped out of it.

° Pushing your panties out of the way, bringing your knees to your chest all the while your back is on his chest.

° There would probably be a mirror in front of you. Just so he could tease you about how wet you are. Or about how it's clenching around nothing.

°After pushing two of his fingers in, he curls them and let's you do the job, only giving your ass a slap when you stopped.

°He couldn't deny it if he wanted to, he was hard. Everytime you rubbed your ass on his clothed cock, everytime you begged for release, he could feel his cock throbbing and leaking pre.

°"How lewd you are.~ Fucking your needy little cunt on your best friend's fingers.~♥︎" He would whisper in your ear while trying not to cum on the spot.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

iamnotdeadyet owns this

#Sukuna #Human sukuna #oc #smut #sukuna x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #fem reader #sukuna x fem reader #dom sukuna #poolverine #deadpool #deadpool 3 #Spotify

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noxturnalpascal · 8 months

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Devotion 🖤 I. Stronger Together (Ch 2)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

I. Stronger Together

CH 2 (5k) You follow Tess to a colonial style house one block away from the main town square. It’s not as tall as the church on the other side of the park, but its three stories still tower over the smaller structures around it. You realize it's close enough that you could see the house from the clinic, and think about all of the still-hot meals Joel has been bringing you three times a day.

The house has an open yard on one side and a porch wrapping around one half front to back. Tess leads you inside and gives you a brief tour. The first floor has a large dining room at the front and a kitchen in the back; a large sitting room located on the opposite side of the home with Joel’s office behind a closed door beyond. Tess shows you your small room upstairs, right next to the bathroom, crowded even with only two furnishings; a single bed and a nightstand.

Three shirts hang from the single window’s curtain rod and she tells you that the room and the clothes are yours and to let her know if you need anything else. When you make your way back downstairs with her she begins to introduce you to the other women who live there. You’re not sure what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t to find Joel living in a house full of women.

You hate the way it makes you feel. It’s a cold hand grasping at your insides, clutching them hot and tight yet freezing them solid at the same time. It makes you sick. You feel a stinging at your eyes and blink rapidly, fighting the urge you have to cry at every new introduction. There are two women in the kitchen preparing dinner, one in the living room mending a broken bowstring, and one working in the back garden. And Tess.

Tess is the only name you can remember. Your head is swirling, your heartbeat is in your ears, and you’re struggling against the sick feeling in your stomach. You’re not even sure you heard all of their names. As if you could even remember them, there were too many to even remember. Had he ever mentioned he lived with five fucking women before? You’re pretty sure you would have remembered that.

Tess had spent the morning moving her housemates around to clear the room at the top of the stairs that Joel said you could have. She knew Bianca wouldn’t be comfortable sharing a bed, so she moved her up to the attic, switching one of the occupants there to share a double bed in the room across from her own. They all moved around expeditiously and with no complaint. The women she shared her home with were easy going, but she still didn’t appreciate Joel dropping this work in her lap last minute.

Tess excuses herself and leaves you with the two women in the kitchen, the one from the garden – whose name, ironically, is Rosie – joining you later. You work beside them, eager to lose yourself in activity and stop your mind from racing. You’ve definitely lost your ability to small-talk, but the women are friendly and seem happy to meet you. The one Rosie calls Bianca is timid and silent, but the other two, Rosie and the other one doing most of the cooking, talk boisterously and animatedly to each other as you work.They excitedly tell you about the community. This is your first time hearing details about where you’ve been living for the past two weeks and you’re shocked to hear that the leader of the whole place is Joel.

Joel – who has been walking over three hot meals a day. Joel – who has been reading stories to you morning, noon, and night. Joel – who has been following you around the park asking you inane questions. Joel – who asked you to move in with him. That Joel.

He definitely didn’t mention that he was the leader of the whole fuckin’ community. You would have remembered that too. They tell you that he brings people into the community if they need shelter and they can follow the rules. The rules seem simple; develop a strong and cohesive community, guard and keep your territory, and work collectively to gather and store resources.

You like the way the women talk about the community they call The Valley. They seem cared for and safe, and that’s also how you’ve felt since you’ve been here. Even though your plan has been to leave when you’ve fully healed, you’ve somehow allowed yourself to get pretty comfortable here. You’ve been distracted by Joel’s daily visits, you’ve been getting lost in the stories he reads to you, letting your mind wander from the harsh realities of this world.

The reality is that society collapsed and all people want to do now is survive, by any means necessary. People have only ever used other people, they take. They did that before the outbreak, but now it’s even worse. You’ve been used. You’ve been taken from. But even though it seems like Joel failed to tell you some things, he’s never taken anything from you. In fact, Joel has been very giving.

He and his patrol killed the clicker about to attack you, saving your life. He brought you into his town and had the doctor give you medical care, even after you threatened them with scissors. He’s been bringing you food, keeping you company, reading those books to you, and helping you gain some of your strength back. Apparently he even gave you his blood after you spilled most of yours down the mountain.

He told you that you were free to leave when you got better. And maybe you will. Maybe once you’re at full-strength you’ll feel like moving on. But maybe you should stay here a little longer. You have a room of your own, a warm place to lie your head, you’ve not been this well-fed in years. Maybe this could be a safe place for you, when no place has ever really felt safe before. Maybe Joel could give you that too.

–

You’re still processing the revelations about Joel when he comes out of his office for dinner. You keep your head down, busy helping the women set the dinner table, carrying in the prepared food and drinks. Joel grabs your hand as you walk back into the kitchen, pulling you close to him. You don’t recoil from his touch anymore, as you’ve been making physical contact with him more often.

You’ve touched his arm or shoulder to point out an animal on your walk, he’s taken your hands to help you up and down steps. Unlike he usually does, this time he doesn’t drop your hand immediately, he continues holding it. He asks if you’ve ‘gotten comfortable’. You’re not sure how to tell him that you’re actually a little uncomfortable, given all the new information, without insulting his hospitality.

“Who are these people?” you ask him, looking down at your joined hands, unable to meet his eye.

“They didn’t introduce themselves to you?” he says gruffly, looking over your head. You look up to meet his eyes and he looks genuinely confused.

“Of course they did…”, you let your unfinished sentence linger in the air, hoping he won’t make your pathetic mouth finish it. You feel absolutely ridiculous. You feel one foot tall again. Here you are, at the end of the world, jealous over a man you barely fucking know. Jealous. You. As if you have any right. He squeezes your hand, making your eyes crunch tight in defeat. You have to complete your thought. Out loud. How embarrassing. “Who are they to you? Are you… seeing any of them? Not that it’s my b– business or anything, I just didn’t–”

“Oh, PJ.”

He cups your face in both his hands and the move has you flinching in surprise. He brings his mouth to yours slowly, so slowly that you’re sure you could have stopped it ten times if you wanted to. But you don’t want to. You don’t move a muscle, you’re pretty sure you don’t even breathe. And then his lips are on your lips. Time freezes. The whole world stops turning and it’s just him and you; his mouth on yours and his large warm hands surrounding your face and his nose pressing into your cheek.

After a moment the world starts turning again. You hear the other women continue to move in and out of the kitchen behind you, paying no mind to Joel’s lips on yours, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. His hands slip to your shoulders and he places more gentle kisses on your lips, your cheeks, your nose. Joel takes your hand and leads you into the dining room, guiding you to sit in the seat next to his at the head of the table.

The meal is hot and delicious, cheerful conversations drift over the tabletop as everyone eats. Joel sees your wide eyes staring at him the entire time, picking at your food, unable to process the kisses he’d bombarded you with. He’s not sure why he did that, a voice inside him was screaming not to, worried he’d scare you off and you’d be out the door miles away by now.

He kept himself in his office all afternoon, trying unsuccessfully to distract his thoughts from you. When he finally came out and saw you in the kitchen, his kitchen, his home… he couldn’t help himself. You were in his home. He grabbed your hand and pulled you close but he sensed you were upset. Were you jealous?

Sure, he probably should have told you about the other women in his house, but you were just beginning to trust him. He didn’t think he could spin this in a way that you would be comfortable with. He didn’t think he would be able to get you here if he told you the truth. So he didn’t. And when given another opportunity to tell you the truth in the kitchen, he kissed you instead.

It doesn’t matter. They don’t matter. Whatever relationship he had with these other women doesn’t matter as long as you’re here, and you’re here now. You’re in his home. You’re his. He’s going to make you his. It’s all he wants now. You’re all he wants now.

–

You sleep warm in your bed the first night in your new home, but stay up late listening to the gentle creaking of the house. The occupants prove to be sound sleepers, and you find out why when you’re woken up before the sun the next morning. The four women who aren’t Tess rouse you from your sleep and give you a choice of inside or outside chores. You choose outside, hoping the crisp dawn air will help wake you up. It doesn’t.

You spend the day tired but busy doing chores with a woman named Sasha. She was only a teenager when the outbreak started but she has some really great survival skills. Before lunch she takes you to the basement where she teaches you how to assemble shotgun shells. After lunch she walks with you to the nearby creek to do some fishing. Well, she fishes, you keep thinking you have something ‘big on the line’ when actually your hook is just caught on rocks. Joel and Tess spend all day out of the house and when you finally see him again, sitting next to him at dinner, you can barely keep your eyes open.

The following day is easier for you, since you slept early and solid through the night like everyone else. On this day after lunch Joel has been in his office, meeting with a long line of people one or two at a time. Each one shakes his hand as they leave, thanking him for his time. You wonder how many meetings like this he missed while he sat in your room reading to you for the last two weeks. You’re sitting in the adjoining room, doing a terrible job of mending holes in socks - you think they might be Joel’s – when the last person leaves his office.

He looks around the otherwise empty room and then his eyes meet yours. He smiles at you and holds his hand out in an invitation. You can’t help but hesitate. You spent hours every day with him for two weeks and now it’s been days since you’ve been alone with him for even one minute. The nerves bubble up in your stomach and you’re not sure if you want to run towards him or run away from him. You opt for the former, grabbing his hand and letting him pull you into his office.

The door closes behind you and suddenly you’re very aware of how alone with him you are. You’ve been alone with him every day in the clinic, with the door wide open, voices drifting down the hall from the other rooms. This feels different. The air feels charged. You’re suddenly terrified, an ice cold fear washes over your entire body as he bears down on you. He comes toe-to-toe with you as you press your back against the door and look in his eyes.

You look like you’ve been dropped into the lion’s den. He notices your panting breaths. The last time you looked this scared you were pointing a pair of scissors at him. Hey, he coos, careful not to touch you. What’s wrong, he hums, fighting the urge to pull you tight to his chest. You shake your head and stammer, unable to form a sentence. He slowly reaches behind you and twists the doorknob.

Joel pushes the door back open a couple inches, whispering we can leave that open, as he walks to the other side of the small room. He sits down at one end of a large leather couch and points to a stack of books on the table, drawing your attention to it. The books. You’d forgotten about the books. You’d dropped them on a table when you arrived and so much was going on they’d slipped your mind. Your hammering pulse begins to calm as you join him on the couch and inspect the books he’s picked.

You hand him White Fang. It’s shorter than some of the other books in the stack but it was one of your favorites as a child. Not your favorite – you still haven’t seen that one presented to you yet. He takes the small paperback and begins to read you the opening paragraph as you settle your mind and relax your body, curved into the opposite end of the big brown couch.

This is how the following weeks go. Your mornings and early afternoons are filled with chores, working side-by-side with the other women in the house. Your evenings are dominated by sleep, heavy and healing after days filled with hard work. Three times a week you take your turn in the town’s impromptu bath-house, bathing in one of their tubs – previously a horse trough – full of hot water. Twice a week you gather with the rest of the Valley in a communal meeting at the church followed by a large meal, and every Friday entertainment events go on around the town square ranging from sporting events to dances.

But every day, without fail, you get time alone with Joel. He pulls you into his office before, after, or between meetings and reads to you. Sometimes it goes on for hours and sometimes he can only give you twenty minutes. But he gives you that time every day. You don’t see him giving that time to anyone else in the house, not even Tess, and so your initial feelings of jealousy fade away.

The only thing you fight now is your own mind. You’ve been with men before, you’ve been in relationships before. You’re not a virgin and you’re not a prude. But you’ve also been hurt by men before. Too many men and more times than you care to recall. You don’t think Joel would hurt you like that. You don’t think Joel would hurt you at all. But then again, you don’t remember thinking most of the other men would hurt you either, until they did. You’ve learned not to trust.

–

The second time Joel kissed you was days after the first, when he finished White Fang. Just a gentle kiss on your lips as you left his office. The next day he repeated the motion and then it became an everyday occurrence. Shortly after, it became a habit to kiss him as you entered his office. You would casually peck his lips as you passed by him at the doorway. He would close the door, save for the last few inches, and join you on the couch.

What started as a sprinkle quickly turned into a storm. You’re still too scared to ask him to close the door all the way behind you but you can’t get enough of him when you’re alone in that room together. What began on opposite sides of the couch quickly changes to you practically sitting in his lap as he reads to you. His hands find yours, or rest on your knees, or wrap around you and pull you to his chest so you can listen to his heartbeat. You start to feel safe.

You don’t even pick the books anymore, he just grabs a paperback off the shelves behind him – the selection lately has been John Grisham. They’re taking a lot longer to get through too, since he’s constantly stopping to talk to you and flirt with you and ask you questions. He sneaks a lot of kisses in between chapters too, but he’s pretty sure you like it.

He thinks you also like the way he finds your hand underneath the dinner table each night, always meeting his eyes with a smile. In the mornings, he meets you in the hallway outside the bathroom and he kisses your cheek, smelling your sleep-mussed hair, but avoiding pressing his ever-present morning erection into you. He knows you’re still skittish and he doesn’t want to push you. He knows you just barely trust him and he won’t do anything to endanger that. He doesn’t want to give you a reason to pull away from him.

Joel’s reading A Time to Kill, trying to push through a particularly difficult description of the attack and assault on Carl Lee Hailey’s young daughter, when he sees you getting antsy beside him. He stops to look over at you and sees a familiar look in your eye.You look like you’re uncomfortable, your eyes glazing over and your body becoming twitchy and restless.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks quietly, his hand softly stroking the leg you have in his lap.

“When was your birthday?” you ask, in an attempt to change the subject.

“M– My birthday?” You’re not making eye contact, you look distracted, miles away.

“Yeah. When you told me how old you were, you said you just turned it. When was your birthday?”

“Yeah I just had my birthday in September.”

You finally look at him, your brows stitching together. “Isn’t it October now?”

“Yes,” he waits for this line of questioning to make sense. Then he realizes maybe it won’t make sense. Maybe you’re just craving a distraction.

“Did I know you when it was your birthday?”

“Yes,” he rubs your leg more, “You were at the clinic.”

“When?”

“Do you remember a night when I brought you an apple dessert?”

“You–”, your eyes move around the room, “Yes, I remember. That was your birthday?” He nods. You’re not looking at him, but he knows you can see him nodding in your peripheral vision. “I wasn’t very nice to you that day,” you say, suddenly sounding sad.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“Why did you spend all that time with me when I wasn’t nice to you and it was your birthday?”

“I didn’t wanna be anywhere else, PJ.” You close your eyes tight, letting the silence hang between you.

“Do you think Jake gets Carl Lee off for the murders?” You change the subject again, asking him to spoil the ending of the book for you.

“Yeah, I think he does,” he answers, and you take a deep breath.

“That’s good,” you say, as you reach forward and slip the book gently out of his fingers, returning it to the shelf behind him.

You lay your head in his lap and spend the rest of your time together that afternoon with his fingers carding through your short hair, comforting you. He hopes you know he meant what he said. He knew it then as he knows it now. There isn’t anywhere else he’d rather be than with you, birthday or not.

–

As the end of October arrives, it signals that you’ve been living in Joel’s house for a month. The past month, in addition to the two weeks previous to that at the clinic, have your side completely healed. All the physical work you do around the homestead has helped you gain your strength back and then some. You’re most definitely at ‘a hundred percent’. You would be physically okay to leave at any time, and yet, leaving is the furthest thing from your mind.

Joel is on your mind. All the time. The way he holds your hands, the way he pushes his nose to yours and makes you laugh, the way he kisses your lips, your hands,, your forehead, and your neck. The way he looks at you. The way he looks at you. It’s equal parts exciting and terrifying. And the way he makes you feel is the same. You want him so badly. You don’t know if you can trust him. You don’t even know if you can trust yourself.

You long for that office door to click shut, to be completely alone with him. You want to feel his arms wrap around you, you want to feel his hands roam along your body, you want to feel his lips on your skin. You want to feel him everywhere. The thought of it sends jolts of electricity through you. The thought of him makes you wet. You’re sure that if that door latched you would be all over him like a rabid animal.

But the thought of that kind of intimacy is deliriously intimidating. You think of the first man who touched you like that. Too young, you were too young to be touched there. It frightened you. You lied still like a scared rabbit, hoping he would think you were asleep and stop. But he didn’t stop. You think about the last man who touched you like that. It wasn’t even that long ago, with dirty rough hands and a burning touch. He told you in your ear that you liked it, but all you remember is feeling pain.

That’s the fear that grips you out of nowhere, that keeps you frozen still and awkward when Joel’s hands roam too far over your body, that keeps you from fulfilling any one of your fantasies of having him naked on top of you. You still have trouble trusting him completely. What if he uses you and then discards you like the others did? What if he hurts you, causes you pain in your body and your heart and your soul?

One night he pulls you out onto the front porch and kisses you against the house, the chill of night giving visible life to your hot breaths, nothing but the din of crickets in the background. You hear him say so beautiful as he drags his cheek against yours, lightly scratching you with his facial hair. Your body reacts before you can reason with yourself, you push him away from you.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What? Don’t call you what?” His arms are still holding your hips, the crease between his eyes deep as he looks across your face.

“Beautiful,” you say quietly, the cover of darkness not giving you any courage. “D- Don’t call me that.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Yeah, cause I’m not.” You swallow around the lump in your throat. “I might be a lot of things but I’m not beautiful, so when you say it to me, it feels like I’m hearing a lie. And I don’t want you to lie to me.”

He wraps his arms around you tight, pulling you back together, his chest warm against yours. He rests his head on your shoulder and his hot breath fans across your neck. He places gentle kisses there while he whispers I won’t lie to you into your skin repeatedly. He thinks of the half-truths he’s already told you and decides that they don’t count. The things he’s done in the past don’t count. All that counts is the man he is going forward, the man he is with you.

–

The next night you’re on cleaning duty with Bianca and you’re both in the kitchen after dinner washing up from the meal. You think you like her the best out of everyone here. Not just because she’s sweet, which she is, but because she’s very quiet. She barely says five words all day and when you’re in her company you can just relax. You can let your mind wander. You can get lost in your thoughts of Joel.

Tonight she doesn’t feel good and you’re not sure how to help her. You tried saying something to Tess earlier but she told you that Bianca could come to her if she needed to talk. Well Bianca doesn’t really talk, so you’re not sure what to do. Joel walks in the kitchen and smiles at you, immediately noticing your look of concern. He takes a quick look at Bianca and sends her to bed, telling her that he’ll help you finish your chores.

You know he’s a kind person but you feel like part of the reason why he sent her upstairs was so he could put his hands on you and kiss you, which he does nearly every moment you’re alone. But not this time. This time he stands by your side as Bianca was, taking his task seriously, helping you to scrub and dry the day’s dishes.

You break the silence and tell him that you always hated having to do the dishes as a kid, how it kept you from the other things you wanted to do after dinner. He asks if you still hate it and you tell him no. You tell him that since there’s no TV shows to watch, no mall to go to, and no friends to call, you’re pretty content with washing some dishes. He chuckles and says his daughter used to hate washing dishes too.

Daughter?

“You had a daughter?”

His hands still their movement. He didn’t mean to let that slip. Shit. Fuck. Sarah flashed into his mind and his guard is so low around you, it just came out. Yeah, he nods, resuming his scrubbing. He doesn’t want to say anything else. He doesn’t want these memories to come rushing in like a tsunami and drown him.

“Her name was Sarah. She uh….” he begins, dreading this conversation.

He feels your soapy hand cover his under the water. You grab his fingers, causing him to let go of the dish he was clutching. You squeeze his hand and when he looks up and meets your eyes he’s hit like a fucking wrecking ball. Wetness rims your waterline. You’re staring straight through him, right into his soul. You see him. You see him. And he’s never going to be the same.

“I know,” you hum. The whole universe is in your eyes. “You don’t have to–”

“Died,” he finishes his sentence.

You nod. You know. Everyone lost everything when the world ended. You most likely lost loved ones too. You’re all just broken shells of people walking around now, although some are worse off than others. Your lip trembles and your eyes are wet like you’re going to cry tears for his lost Sarah too. You open your mouth and begin to speak with a shaky breath.

“One time when I was a pre-teen, I put off washing the dishes until it was very late, almost bedtime. When I was done my dad wouldn’t let me get ready for bed. He called me to come sit with him in the living room while he watched the ten o’clock news. A segment came on about teen pregnancy and the whole time I just sat there embarrassed, not understanding what we were watching, or why. When that story was over he clapped his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘okay then, goodnight,’ and sent me to bed. It wasn’t until years later I realized that was his version of the sex talk,” you finish with a chuckle.

Joel huffs out a laugh with you, finding your dad’s awkward solution somewhat relatable.

“I just gave her a book,” he recalls, “Don’t even remember who I got it from, I think one of her friend’s mom’s? I don’t remember but… it didn’t go over well. There was a lot of eye rolling.”

Your eyes pinch together as you both laugh, causing the tears that had welled up to spill from the sides. You finish drying the last dish and head upstairs to bed, but before you can turn towards your room he gently grabs your wrist and places your hand in one of his. His face is calm and peaceful. He looks content. He reaches his other hand up and cups your face. You think he’s going to kiss you, but instead he just says thank you. He holds your face a moment longer before squeezing your hand and heading into his room.

🖤

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE

Thank you endlessly to @papipascalispunk for helping me with this series and listening to me rant about Cult Leader Joel. 🫂 I appreciate you SO much.

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx@lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin

#devotion series #cult leader joel miller #noxturnalpascal #ofc!reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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anotheroceanid · 21 days

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Commenter #1: So they weren't trolling 💀

Commenter #2: Girl, i'll hold your hand when i say this, they're probably not joking around about wanting you back, shit i barely know you and i feel the same

Commenter #3: Sweet home alabama, but why are they all so hot???? What Targaryen shit is this????

Commenter #4: Is anyone else worried about her?! I think this girl is in a cult

Commenter #4: Maybe i'm just single because my family doesn't inbreed

Commenter #5: Biggest tragedy is the fact that this fine ass woman apparently only dates people related to her

I mean, if you think about it, the demigods give off Cullen kids 😂😂😂 only hang up with each other and think it’s strange when they have mortal friends (I mean, I know Annabeth was being jealous of Percy and Rachel in the canon, but I can totally see that as an common reaction to when demigods have mortal friends)

—

Btw, the demigods are never beating the cult allegations. Specially if someone sees the big three, one look at them and they’ll be like “yup, it’s a cult” (they’re both giving off cult leader energy in three different ways, so people will think they joined forces to maximise their culty energy)

Percy: well, family was a bit thorn apart because they go around having kids and then they send us all to q camp when we become teens, but that really pissed off a cousin of mine so he joined forces with our grandad to try to overthrow my dad and my uncles and aunts

Interviewer: of course… you’re so pretty

#ask

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anaer · 3 months

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the time travel fix it fuck it up fic (wip)

in which gojo ends up back in time and decides its time for a hostile takeover

stsg/sukugo, rating: probably don't share with your family

According to the blurry numbers on the clock screaming at his face, it was 4:33 in the fucking morning when Geto Suguru, renowned cult leader, was forcefully woken by a loud cacophony sounding the destruction of at least three walls of his temple. He had half a second to try and process – ‘What the fuck was that?’ – before an even louder, much more familiar, much more annoying sound echoed through the compound.

“Suguru!”

Uncalled for indignation: that was the first thing Geto registered. The second thing he registered was a foot buried in his gut, and his body crashing into his bedroom wall. Well. He was awake now. Just in time to see a fist coming straight for his face, and he barely ducked out of the way, rolling past Satoru looking like death and whatever snit he was suddenly in.

“What the fuck?!” he demanded. “Do you know what time it is?” Everyone, especially Satoru, knew how he felt about his sleep getting interrupted. He couldn’t be his best self with less than eight hours and twenty-four minutes of sleep per night.

“It’s September!” Satoru shot back at him. “Three months before December!”

And also two years since the last time Satoru had hung up on him very rudely in the middle of one of his earnest entreaties to get him to come around to the better side of killing most of the world. This was how he decided they were talking again?

“I’m glad you know how to read a goddamn calendar? What the hell is your problem?”

Satoru slugged him right in the jaw, hard enough to make Geto’s head ring. “I know you’re planning to murder my student.”

What?

God, his fucking face hurt now. This was not how he wanted to start his morning; he had so much important cult shit to deal with today, and now he was going to be in a mood. And he wasn’t planning to kill any of Satoru’s students yet, so what was this even about? Another blow caught him in the stomach, and he doubled over gasping, grabbing onto Satoru’s t-shirt.

“Stop…punching me!”

Satoru complied, but only because a hand clamped entirely too threateningly around his neck to haul him up instead. The grin on Satoru’s face was honestly psychotic. Geto hated how hot that was. He’d really shot himself in the foot that time he’d convinced Satoru that mass murder was bad. Hindsight and all that…they really could’ve had it all. It was amazing how stupid teenage hormones and morality had made him.

“I have had,” Satoru began slowly, his grip slowly tightening on Geto’s throat, “a really bad year. Unbelievably bad. That stupid brain, then that stupid box, and then…well, the fight was great, honestly. A little embarrassing to die on live TV, but worth it, I think. Sukuna was—ahhh, he was so much better than I expected, and now that’s all ruined, which—not the point. At first, I was happy, in the airport, to see you again – things get weird when you die – but then I woke up this morning, alive, and I saw it was September.”

“You’ve already established it’s September,” Geto croaked.

Satoru scoffed, pinning him with a glare that did not intimidate him as much as turned him on. Satoru looked so fuckable like this.

“I woke up,” Satoru repeated, “and on my way here, I realised: you! You’re the problem! You are the root of all my problems. Every single one of them! I would kill you, but that’s what started this entire mess to begin with!”

Geto had zero idea what he was talking about. Not that he actively spent sixty eight percent of his time spying on Satoru or anything (he was a known liar), but he knew for a fact that Satoru had spent most of the past year fucking around Japan eating anything he could get his hands on, toying with underpowered curses, pissing off the higher ups, and avidly not teaching his students anything useful. He’d even fucked Nanami a time or two, which was something Geto tried not to think about too much for the thin remnants of his own sanity. Still: it’d been a pretty good year for him, as far as Geto was concerned. He’d definitely not done anything half as annoyingly obnoxious as die, let alone on live TV. Whatever the fuck bullshit he was spewing from his mouth was complete nonsense, which could really only mean one thing: Gojo Satoru had finally, fully snapped.

Geto thought about all that, and then didn’t think through his answer at all: “As if you could kill me.”

#jjk #gojo satoru #geto suguru #stsg #my fic #wip

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virizona · 1 year

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Rest and Reassurance

Pairing: Luis Serra x Reader (AFAB)

Warnings: None; all fluff. Potential spoilers for the game

Summary: After the events of Resident Evil 4, you, Leon, Ashley, and Luis escape to a safe house off the horrific island to rest and recuperate, awaiting extraction.

Word Count: 2,270

A/N: This has been sitting completed since like June, so time to post my first ever Luis Serra fic! Spanish is not my first language, but I am learning, so I'm open to any corrections on the Spanish sprinkled in here.

—

It was a long jet ski ride away from the plague-infested island. At least it and the cult were reduced to ashes now.

The mission you and Leon Kennedy were sent on should have been a simple fetch quest: recover the President’s daughter, Ashley Graham. But, of course, things always had to go sideways. The three of you ended up infected with Las Plagas, the mind-controlling, body-disfiguring parasite. Turns out, the leader of Los Illuminados, Osmund Saddler, planned to inject Ashley with the parasite all along as a way to get to the President.

It was a long and grueling mission between locating Ashley, finding a cure, and stopping Saddler (not to mention a run-in with Leon’s old Major, Jack Krauser). But, there was a silver lining to it all: you met Luis Serra Nevarro.

Luis was a charmer through and through. He was flirtatious from the very first moment you were introduced to each other. You thought his advances would be more distracting, but they were honestly a welcoming reprieve from the constant fight or flight moments. What sealed your trust in the Spaniard however, was he was the one who knew how to cure your Las Plagas problem. A former Umbrella researcher, Luis was tricked into working for Saddler after he fled his previous employer. Holding onto his belief that people can change, Luis brought you, Leon, and Ashley to his lab where he held the cure: a radiation procedure that targeted and eradicated the parasite growing within your bodies.

To say you owed the man your life would be an understatement. You glanced at his stubbled face from where he rested over your left shoulder, hair blowing in the wind as you zipped across the water. His arms held snugly around your waist as you drove after Leon and Ashley’s water craft. The rising sun brought a pleasant warmth to your face, as if the world was showing you there was hope on the horizon.

—

Disembarking from the jet skis, you followed Leon ashore. He was saying something about a safe house that Hunnigan located you could use, just until she could send in a helicopter for you all.

It was well hidden within a forest a few miles inland. The hike was worth it alone for the chance to take a hot shower and sleep in a clean bed. The safe house was sparse, but it held all the necessary amenities: a kitchen, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a tiny living space. Leon was quick to designate the bedrooms, one for you and Ashley to share and the other for him and Luis.

“Actually, Leon, I think I would feel better if you stayed in the room with me.” Ashley spoke up, sounding slightly embarrassed about her request. It wasn’t unreasonable though, the blonde man did protect and save her countless times in your efforts to escape the parasitic cult. It made sense she would feel safer sleeping with his presence in the room.

Leon opened his mouth to likely protest, but was cut off by Luis clapping his hands together once. “No problemo, mis amigos! Mi amor y yo can take the other room.” He flashed a grin that would have had you blushing if you hadn’t been solely focused on that much needed hot shower.

“You guys decide whatever, but I need a shower and then I’m going to sleep for at least 24 hours. Wake me when the chopper arrives.” You waved a dismissive hand as you made for one of the bathrooms. You caught the sound of a weary sigh from Leon as you left the front room.

—

The hot water beating on your back felt heavenly after trudging through cold, rainy weather during most of the mission. You tipped your face up to the steady spray, sighing in relief as the grime ran off your body, pooling on the shower floor and into the drain. Now that you were no longer running for your life, exhaustion hit like a freight train and you had to steady yourself with a hand on the slick, tiled wall. You jolted as a knock on the bathroom door interrupted your peace.

“Mi amor, estás bien?” It was only Luis, his thick accent muffled by the barrier. “You’ve been in there for quite a while.”

“I’m fine.” You called out wearily. “Just tired is all.”

There was a long pause and you thought he was satisfied with that answer, except you never heard his retreating footsteps. Then, he spoke again. “May I come in?” You waited a few beats, taken slightly aback by his question and unsure how to answer. Luis continued talking. “I found some clean clothes for you.” You were a bit baffled as to how there was clothing stocked in the place, but you decided not to question it too much.

Taking a deep breath, you relented to the Spaniard’s offer. “Come in.” You turned your back to the semi-opaque shower door as a precaution as Luis entered the room.

“Phew, you weren’t kidding about the hot shower!” He exclaimed as the steam and humidity hit him. His shoes clicked softly on the tile floor as he moved over to the bathroom sink, placing some folded clothes on the counter there. “I’ll leave them by the sink for you then get out of your hair.” You could practically hear the wry smile in his voice.

Suddenly, the thought of being alone again clutched your chest like a vice. Just as Luis was about to step out of the room, you found your voice. “Wait, could you… could you stay a bit longer?” You hoped you didn’t sound too pathetic, especially after everything you went through, just as much as you hoped it wasn’t too weird of a request. You chanced a glance over your shoulder, peering at him through the fogged shower door. It was hard to tell, but he looked genuinely concerned.

“Sí mi amor, I can stay.”

—

Luis sat on the bathroom floor with his back leaning against the shower wall. Most of the time he spent in companionable silence, which was rather unusual for him. Perhaps he was exhausted like you were. Still, it made you ask, “estás bien, Luis?”

“Mi amor, I will always be fine with you by my side.” There was that charm again. It made you chuckle as you finally turned off the shower.

Luis was immediately on his feet, towel in hand. You reached through the shower door, opening it just enough to take the towel from him. Murmuring your thanks, you briefly toweled most of the water off yourself before wrapping it around your torso, tucking the corner in just under your armpit. Stepping out, the tile floor was chilly on your feet. You suppressed a shiver as you came face to face with Luis.

He looked tired as you observed his face, though you couldn’t imagine you looked any better. Dark circles were forming under his eyes, his hair oily, and his skin grimy. You couldn’t bring yourself to care about any of that as you became trapped in his silvery stare. Hesitantly, Luis reached out a hand to tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear. Ever so slightly, you leaned into his touch.

“Tienes sueño?” He asked, and you gave a nod, eyes drooping as his hand continued to linger on the side of your face. “Why don’t you go get comfortable and I’ll join you after I’ve had a turn to shower, hm?” The thought of sharing a bed with the Spaniard wasn’t lost on you.

“Leon actually agreed to stay in Ashley’s room?” You asked with a breathy laugh in disbelief, picturing the special agent begrudgingly agreeing. It was also your way of getting around asking the obvious and hopefully saving yourself from any embarrassment.

“He took some convincing, funnily more from me than la señorita, but he came around to the idea.” Luis chuckled as well as he passed the folded clean clothes into your arms. “Now go, I won’t be long.” His hands were suddenly on your lower back, gently pushing you out into the hall and in the direction of the bedroom. You glanced over your shoulder to see him wink before shutting the bathroom door.

Face feeling hot, you shuffled down to the bedroom. Once inside, and with no more distractions for the moment, your exhaustion returned. It took all your effort, but you managed to change into the clothes Luis had found for you. They were simple: an oversized t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts, likely for someone more of Leon’s size, but you were just glad to no longer be wearing your muddied, bloodied, sodden outfit from the mission.

You crawled under the sheets and blankets, leaving your towel on the floor, too tired to care. When you had gotten comfortable, hugging a pillow under your head, that was when a soft rap on the door snagged your attention. You rolled over just enough to look back to the doorway. “Just me, mi amor.”

Luis, back from his shower, was wearing the same gym shorts but he had forgoed a shirt. You rolled back over quickly enough, hiding your face against the pillow. There was the gentle sound of the door clicking shut and Luis’ footsteps as he made his way to the other side of the bed. He pulled up his end of the sheets, sliding into bed with a groan, the mattress dipping momentarily from his movement. “Mierda, this is nice.” He spoke with a sigh as he finally settled.

It felt surreal. After days of running ragged around the island, fighting people and monsters alike, it was strange to be vulnerable again. You looked across the space between you and Luis and up to the man’s face. His soaked hair framed his visage and he still held that look of exhaustion. His expression was soft, however, his eyes casting a warmth as he stared back.

“Almost too good to be true.” You whispered, fearing that this may all turn into a dream should you voice it any louder.

Luis gave his lopsided smile with an airy chuckle. “It’s like you read my mind.” He reached out to brush a strand of wet hair back from your face a second time. His voice dropped a pitch, almost matching the volume of your whisper. “Try to get some sleep, mi amor.”

You nodded and snuggled down further into your pillow. Just as your eyes were slipping closed, you were abruptly pulled against Luis’ chest into a strong embrace. You shot your arms out and wrapped them around his back, clinging to him as he buried his face in your hair and against your neck. You squeezed your eyes shut tight, willing yourself to not start shaking as fatigue and anxiety clashed behind your heart. Anxiety for everything you went through, anxiety for never feeling safe anymore, anxiety for the thought of almost losing Luis again.

The Spaniard in your arms shuddered as he seemed to hold in a sob and you only hugged him tighter, closer. “We’re okay.” You began in a murmur. “We’re okay… I got you and you got me.” You weren’t sure if you were trying to console yourself or Luis more.

“Sí mi amor, I’m not going anywhere. No te dejaré.” He appeared to relax little by little after each affirmation. You still clung to him, inhaling the scent of his shampooed hair and trying to ground yourself.

Eventually, you were able to doze off, wreathed by Luis’ light snores.

—

You bolted upright in bed, no longer ensnared in the man’s embrace. Sweat coated your forehead and hairline, practically dripping down the back of your neck. Breathing heavily and in a panic, you check over your hands and arms before bringing your palms up to your eyes. It was just a night terror you tried telling yourself, and likely the first of many. Your rapid movements must have awoken Luis for he stirred with a hand reaching out for you.

“Mi amor, qué ocurre?” His hand found purchase on your knee as he pulled himself up partly to sit with you.

Your hands remained pressed against your eyes as if you could push the horrid vision from your mind. “Bad dream.” You uttered, voice shaky. Gentle fingers grasped your wrists, lowering your hands from your face. You were met with Luis’ concerned, even stare. You thought he would press for more details, but he only waited for when you were ready to share. “It was um, it was Las Plagas… that thing was inside me again.” A sniffle escaped you as the adrenaline was finally wearing off.

“Oh, mi amor, I’m so sorry.” Luis crooned, coaxing you into a hug. “The parasite is gone, prometo. I made sure of it.” The hug shifted to you sitting in his lap, legs out to one side and his arms looped around your waist, hands clasped on your hip. He began to gently rock side to side, doing his best to be reassuring. “And, just think, if we’ve done it once before, we can do it again.”

You paled at the thought. “But I don’t want to do it again.”

“Lo siento, but you know what I mean, yes? You’re so capable, strong, and brave. Much braver than I.” That got a little snort out of you. “You can take on the world, mi amor.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “And I will be by your side the whole way.”

#resident evil 4 #re4 remake #luis serra x reader #luis serra #vizo writes

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lulu2992 · 7 months

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Exploration of the now-offline Far Cry 5 official websites

Part 3: Game Info 2 (America)

Recovered content

On July 13th, 2017, this is what the Overview, on the Game Info page of the American website, said:

OVERVIEW Welcome to Hope County, Montana, land of the free and the brave, but also home to a fanatical doomsday cult known as The Project at Eden’s Gate that is threatening the community's freedom. Stand up to the cult’s leader, Joseph Seed and the Heralds, and spark the fires of resistance that will liberate the besieged community. In this expansive world, your limits and creativity will be tested against the biggest and most ruthless baddest enemy Far Cry has ever seen. It’ll be wild and it’ll get weird, but as long as you keep your wits about you, the residents of Hope County can rest assured knowing you’re their beacon of hope. Join the Resistance on February 27, 2018, with Far Cry 5. Available on PlayStation 4 system, Xbox One, and PC.

Then, it was moved to the Game Features page and only said this:

OVERVIEW Far Cry 5 is a massive open world that’s filled with something new around every bend. The enemy AI behavior is more realistic and the exploration is almost endless. Even when you feel like taking a break from the campaign, you can take in some leisurely fishing before diving back into your quest. It’s your mission. With it comes the freedom to take on a world that hits back by any means necessary. Join the Resistance now with Far Cry 5. Available on PlayStation 4 system, Xbox One, and PC.

On this Game Features page, which was only archived three times on the Wayback Machine (and remained unchanged at least from May 18th, 2019, to February 7th, 2020), there was also information about Hope County’s three main regions:

REGIONS WHERE ONE MISSION ENDS, ANOTHER BEGINS Three diverse regions and three really bad Heralds stand between you and The Father. How you conquer them is up to you.

HOLLAND VALLEY - John Seed's Region Named for the Dutch immigrants who originally settled here, Holland Valley feels like a postcard from the West. It is home to farms, grazing animals, and a small community named Fall’s End. Because of all the goods that are grown and transformed here, this is also where the cult is planning to reap whatever they need before The Collapse.

HENBANE RIVER - Faith Seed's Region Henbane River was once a place where people came to heal. Its landscape was dotted with cottages, hot springs, and the flowers that give the region its name. Over time the hot springs business fizzled out and the Project at Eden’s Gate moved in. This area is the cult’s heart in Hope County and a place of field labor and worship. Its economy revolves around converting souls into a docile workforce through use of drugs.

WHITETAIL MOUNTAINS - Jacob Seed's Region Whitetail Mountains are a true wilderness where nature’s raw power is on display. Teeming with wildlife, this is a place to hide secrets—from both society and the law. It’s here that the cult is building an army to protect their followers from the Collapse. While Eden’s Gate controls this region, those who reject the cult can also find safe haven here. Preppers and survivalists have encamped themselves in these hidden mountains as they await the right moment to strike.

You could find the Activities as well:

HUNTING Aim a bit off? Practice your marksmanship on some of the wild animals that are roaming throughout the different regions in Hope County. But beware, the animals fight back. FISHING Need a breather from ousting a doomsday cult and their maniacal leader? Take a break and cast a line in any of Hope County's scenic lakes and rivers. WINGSUIT Do you believe you can fly? Nothing says freedom like soaring high above Hope County like a bald eagle. CRAFTING While you make your way through the diverse landscapes of Hope County, Montana, you will encounter all manner of animals and natural resources. Use them to your advantage, when crafting your upgrades.

There was also an introduction to the For Hire system, and notably this:

GUNS FOR HIRE Not only do you have unique skills to bring to the table, so do your Guns For Hire. You can meet and recruit them in the open world, although they may need some help sorting out their own problems before lending you a hand. If you like to travel in numbers, you can recruit up to two for hire at a time, which should help increase your chances of survival.

FANGS FOR HIRE It's not only the human residents of Hope County who are prepared to fight back. As a part of the Guns for Hire system, Fangs for Hire are animal companions for the player. Each is unique, and can enhance whatever playstyle you choose.

“Read More” took you to the News section, to an article titled “Meet Far Cry 5's Characters” (more details in future posts), and another one that was apparently not archived, sadly...

Commentary

The changes in the Overview are interesting to me because they initially called Eden’s Gate “the biggest and most ruthless baddest enemy Far Cry has ever seen”... and then didn’t.

I like that we learn more about the three regions, especially details such as Holland Valley getting its name from the Dutch immigrants who used to live there or the Henbane River being a reference to the flowers that grow in the region. That said, the Bliss flowers we see in Far Cry 5 seem to be inspired by Datura, not Henbane, so I don’t know if this is a mistake or if the developers had other real-life flowers in mind when they came up with the concept of Bliss. Henbane flowers contain the same psychoactive substance as the drug used by the cult: scopolamine (although its hallucinogenic properties were greatly exaggerated in the game).

The site also says we could craft upgrades using “animals and natural resources”, but while plants can indeed be used to make “homeopathics”, crafting upgrades with animal skins, for example, wasn’t a mechanic in Far Cry 5 anymore.

Under the cut are all the available source files, saved directly from the website, of the images you see in the screenshots:

Next to the flag above, on the right, is the (barely visible here) “intaglio” pattern, used in the background of most pages on the site.

Small and barely visible white eagle with a transparent background below.

Small and barely visible white eagle with a transparent background above.

#far cry 5 #eden’s gate #hope county #joseph seed #holland valley #john seed #henbane river #faith seed #whitetail mountains #jacob seed #grace armstrong #nick rye #boomer

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sugurus-fave-monkey · 11 months

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Okay, so I’ve never actually put one of these out there. But I went on a little kick of how I think JJK men would fuck, and I really liked both of my Geto Drabbles . It’s kinda just thoughts, but I might make an actual thing with like plot. I’m honestly just copying and pasting them from Snapchat, so apologies for formatting, spelling etc. Feedback is appreciated, as well as if you think something else should be added to the CW please let me know. Anyways, smut under the cut.

Cw/Tw: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Degradation. Spit. Choking. Name calling. DubCon(???), Voyeurism, Exhibitionism ( Geto uses you in front of his cult), oral (both), vaginal sex, arrogant Geto.

Geto: oh god since he’s currently my obsession (what is with cult leaders) number one: in front of his cult. Geto could fuck whoever he wishes to, but when it comes to showing off for his followers, you were always it. It was humiliating the first time, but you had become used to it. You knew the routine by now, get on the stage, sit on his lap, and let him start to touch you over your clothes. He knew just where you were sensitive, and it doesn’t take him long until your grinding on him, trying to relieve the sensation in your crotch. He smirks at you and addresses the crowd. “See how she begs for me? Truly I must be a god. And if so, then she is a goddess.” The crowd watches how he has utter control over you. He slowly strips you down, and starts touching your bare skin, making you whine, and grind against nothing. He finally touches you, slowly tracing his finger around your opening, before roughly inserting and curling two fingers. The sensation is enough to have you close. “Ah ah not yet, pretty. Wait til I tell you to.” Your mind is reeling. You want to explode on his hand but you know if you can’t hold out, there’s going to be trouble. Finally he gets on his knees and adds his tongue into the mix. You grasp a fistful of his hair, and practically scream. “G-Geto, please!” Geto pulls away, a string of your juices still connected to his lips. He smirks again. “Should I let her cum?” The crowd nods. “Very well then, go ahead.” And finally you let it out, and he doesnt stop, not until you’ve cum three times. Once that happens he grabs a fistful of your hair, forces you on your knees, and facefucks you. He wouldn’t allow his followers to see that part of him, nor would he allow you to have his dick inside you. When he finishes, he busts on your face, and kicks you off his stage.

Geto scenario two: Geto has so much anger and you’re his release. “Strip and get on your knees.” He commands, you do so. “Good girl. Open your mouth.” You do so and he bends down and spits in your mouth. He pushes your mouth closed, so you can swallow his spit, and open it again, this time it’s his dick that’s going in there. He sticks it in soft, and holds your head in place as it gets hard. He smirks at you as you struggle to take it all, eventually he eases up knowing you’re not going to be able to swallow all of him. He lazily pulls your hair, at a pace he likes, allowing you to breathe every so often. At one point he finally figures you’re good to go then rams his entire length down your throat, and chokes you while slowly face fucking you, and you feel like you’re going to pass out when he finally pulls out. “You’ve gotten better at taking me.” When you don’t respond he tells you to get on your hands and knees. You comply, and SMACK, he brings a hand down on your ass, it stings, and your face gets hot. “What are you supposed to say when I give you a compliment?” SMACK. “Th-thank you Geto.” SMACK. “Thank you Geto.” Another few rounds of that and then he’s flipping you over onto your back. He finally disrobes, and strokes himself a couple times. He uses a thumb to rub at your folds. “Pathetic, you’re already dripping for me?” You feel shame, because it’s true, just his gaze is enough to have you soaked. He shoves two fingers inside of you, probing you like an expert. He uses his other hand to rub your clit, and the pressure builds. You orgasm, and you end up squirting. “Thank you Geto!” You manage to squeak out. “Disgusting.” He wraps his fingers around your neck, and slams his dick into you. He fucks you with such hatred, and it feels so good. He flips you onto your hands and knees, and takes his nails down your back. “T-thank you Geto.” His response is to pull your hair and fuck you even harder. He toys with your clit again, and you orgasm again. “Such a filthy monkey. It’s that easy to make you cum huh?” He pulls out of you, and pushes you onto the table, he has better leverage this way, and it really stretches you out. You’re incoherent, you’re overstimulated, and all you can see are those hate filled eyes, staring daggers at you, as his tips away your dignity. He sounds almost animalistic the way he’s grunting and groaning. He finishes inside you, and he notices it spilling out of you when he pulls out. He pulls your hair and shoves your face in it. “Clean up your mess.” Afterwards: who knows. He leaves, probably to go kill some random ass people.

ETA, I expanded on the second Drabble. Part one is here

#jjk smut #geto smut #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru

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midnightanxietytm · 3 months

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Lurking one

a/n: Meet my other disciples, I love them.

Summary: Shamura arrives in the cult, Izebel, their guardian, is having some fun with it, surprisingly.

Nested in the middle of the village there is a shared shelter, and the Lamb often finds themselves going there to meet a certain fox.

“What would I even do without you, Izebel?” They jest as she hands them the paper with the schedules.

“You would do just fine, a bit messier, but fine.” She says with the undying patience she’s had for centuries now. “I’ve been meaning to ask about the procedures for your last crusade, my leader.” The Lamb sighs, the papers on their hands disappear into the Red crown.

“I fear Shamura will be the hardest to adapt, so let’s make sure the pillory is empty in case containment is needed, other than that, they will stay with the- with their siblings in the separate cabin.” The fox simply nodded and dipped her pen in ink to make the needed scheduling.

“I’m assuming the scribing will be pushed forward for about a week then?” She asks.

“Yes, thank you. The battle record can be archived later, and the integration takes priority. Can I ask you to look after Shamura yourself?”

It’s in the dead of the night when Izebel and the other on-duty disciples reunite on the stairs of the crossroads to wait for their leader to return.

Izebel turns to them with a quizzical look, when Lameniel looks into her mind he almost gets dizzy with the speed her thoughts are going, not that it isn’t like this any other time. “Of course, my leader.” It’s all she says.

“You think Shamura will really be a handful?” Ygrin asks, his yellow fur all on edge and ears turning at each small noise.

“That’s my burden to deal with, friend.” Says Izebel. “You have your worm of chaos.”

“There’s no need for too much anticipation.” Says Yequon, ever so calmly.

“Yeah, Grinny, we know the worm’s been keeping you busy.” Cain teases, reaching behind Izebel to poke the cat on the ribs.

“You’re jealous because Heket won’t give you the time of day!” The yellow cat hisses at the deer.

Cain snorts; “I’ll have you know that she and I have very different tastes in-” He gets interrupted by Yequon clearing his throat and gesturing to the teleportation circle ahead as it starts to emit a red glow.

The Lamb is approached by their disciples as soon as they materialize in the stone circle, and they greet them with a smile. “We have much to do!” They announce as a bag, likely full of resources, materializes in their hand. “Yequon, Cain, please store those properly.” They hand the bag to Cain and the two quickly move to follow the orders. “Ygrin, please wake up Narinder and tell him to wait for me at the temple.” The yellow cat also disappears quickly, the Lamb finally turns to Izebel and wordlessly gestures to her to follow them.

Together, they descend the stairs and approach the indoctrination circle, they stand in front of it and it lights up on command, portal opening and spitting out a very angry spider.

Izebel feels Shamura’s anger before she even sees them, and she just happens to be the closest one when the spider raises their sight and lunges forward.

She figured this would happen, but she still ends up in the ground with a — very tall — spider on top of her, mouth inches from her face and dripping venom. She stops the bite by placing her forearm against their throat, a single drop of hot green liquid drips on her cheek and sticks to her fur before she deftly rolls out from underneath the spider and uses her legs to force them face-down on the floor, two of their three pairs of arms stuck against their body by her legs and the remaining pair pinned by her hands behind their back.

Shamura trashes and hisses in protest, two pairs of eyes red with the mark of dissent. Lameniel looked down at the scene with an amused smile. “As you can see, Shamura, my disciples are highly trained, I advise you to not attack them.”

Taking Shamura to the pillory isn’t that hard of a task compared to the following reunion in the temple; it lasts until sunrise, arrangements are made, things are changed, boundaries set.

When morning comes, she skips the sermon to prepare a bowl of food, and takes it with her to the pillory.

At this point, Narinder hasn’t really spoken to any of his siblings, and Izebel won’t judge him for it; he tells her what to expect from Shamura, and she listens eagerly, and reassures him that she can rearrange their schedules so he doesn’t need to see them.

Shamura looks, for lack of a better word, pathetic. Izebel feels something thugh at her guts; an unpleasant feeling akin to pity that she dismisses with a sigh as she sits in front of the spider. “Hello, I’m Izebel, I’ll be watching over you from now on.” There is only silence on the spider’s end, so she keeps talking. “I’ll make sure you are properly fed, then move you into a cell, once we’re sure you pose no immediate threat, you will be given a temporary shelter.”

“My siblings?” Shamura asks, it’s more of a demand.

“They haven’t been notified of your arrival yet, but they will be right after the sermon, and they’ll be given permission to visit you as long as I’m supervising.”

Izebel looks around her new living quarters with mild annoyance. She really liked her shared room with Tybre and Julese, and she fears that without her there, their bickering might lead to more serious fights. But then again, Shamura is also a potential source of trouble…

Shamura nods to the best of their abilities and accepts the food.

She figures Saleos can deal with them for some time in her place, just until Shamura is no longer a problem… She had just finished tidying up her work space when the spider in question pushes the entrance curtain aside and stops on the doorway, simply staring at her.

The fox offers a tentative smile. “Hello again… You have quite the plunge, you know?”

“It was supposed to kill you.” They answer, taking the final step inside and letting the curtain fall closed behind them. Now she can see there's quite the height difference between them; the spider is over a head taller than her. “You were supposed to have at least a concussion upon impact, then die in minutes from internal bleeding.” There’s frustration in their words. Izebel likes it a little too much.

“You’ve lost strength, from what I’ve gathered, It’s perfectly normal. Your siblings all went through similar situations.” Shamura hisses in response, but Izebel is above flinching.

“Wretched little thing, you’re nothing but the Lamb’s lapdog, yet you bark at me?”

Silence hangs in the air for a second, the fox sits down on her desk. “As we stand, Shamura, there is more divinity running through my veins then through yours.” She speaks flatly; “Ease your anger, you should know no enlightenment will come from it.”

Shamura blinks at her once, twice, before straightening their posture and leaving the shelter with measured steps.

She still has a book on her hands even as she sits with her companions on the barstools.

Izebel turns to her desk, opens her notebook, dips her pen in ink and writes in fluid letters on a blank page; ‘Shamura; -needs outlet for anger; - needs silence.’

“We’re running low on bones, I’ll need to set an expedition soon.” Says Julese nonchalantly.

“Hm, I’ll look it over tomorrow and send you to everyone who is free.” She answers calmly. Cain places a wine glass in front of her;

“How is your spider problem? Heket told me Shamura is silent, even for her.” She lets out a small chuckle and raises her eyes from her book to take the glass and sip it.

“They seem to like the silence, I’m not opposed to it. They aren’t dissenting, nor encouraging others to, so I don’t see much reason to interfere.”

“Yeah but they sure watch you a lot.” Ygrin interjects, she turns to look at him and sees his flushed cheeks and distant look with amusement. Somewhere behind her, she does feel Shamura’s presence; lurking and stalking like a researcher taking notes on a test subject.

“Hm, Nari used to stalk the leader just like this…” Julese muses and elbows her with a smirk. Izebel hums dismissively and looks back to her book as she sips her wine.

The silent stalking goes on for a few days, then it evolves to watching the entire cult move from the shadows. Izebel doesn’t need mind reading to see the gears turning on their head; Shamura is observant and diligent, they analyze their new environment coldly.

“That's so?” She says.

It's her who sneaks up on them after some time; “Accompany me to the Disciple’s Garden?” She asks while smiling politely.

“Is that place not only for disciples?” They question.

“Technically. Yet you’ve been there before.” They don’t seem surprised that she knows. They look down at her, squinting at her as if she’s the last piece of a puzzle they can’t solve. Izebel turns around and starts walking, seconds later, Shamura catches up to her and they walk side by side.

The disciple’s garden is one of her favorite places; hidden just behind Faithful’s hall by tall bushes and twisting vines, the offering bowls, statues and the pond decorated prettily with candles and surrounded with tree stumps for sitting. Shamura follows her as she sits by the pond, and they sit by her side.

“Tell me your woes, spider, no one will bother us here.” She says softly, Shamura stares at her intensely.

“Narinder refuses to see me.” They say after a long moment of silence.

“Why wouldn’t he?” Shamura feels as if this darned fox wants them to kill her, and they almost taste their own venom, itching to sink underneath her skin.

“I do want to apologize to him.” They say, defensively.

The fox hums. “His imprisonment is not all he resents you for, not anymore.” She suggests.

Shamura rattles their brain trying to find meaning in those words, curse their brain, curse this feeble memory, curse the days they can barely string a sentence together, curse the days they can feel nothing but this constant piercing headache. The silence drags, the evening sun casts shadows in Izebel’s eyes and Shamura sometimes fears she does have more divinity in her they’d like to admit.

“The Lamb took Narinder as a spouse about seventy years ago.” She says, nonchalantly, dipping her toes in the pond in front of them. “It was a very merry day indeed, I’ve never felt devotion so strong, theirs for each other and us for them…” She finally looks up at Shamura, they stare at her and again fight the urge to bite her.

“We are all happy our lamb and their husband can have a family again.”

Shamura leaves the disciple's hall first, and they don’t set foot in there for a long time.

a/n: there we go, all of my sillies properly introduced. Plz ask me about them i want to talk abt them so bad

#midnight writes #cult of the lamb #cotl lamb #narilamb #asks open #cotl oc #cotl au #Lameniel the Lamb

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helpwhatsthis · 2 years

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little lamb- e.m.

based on the on my second idea from this post!

warnings: SMUT!!! little plot, semi-dark eddie, accidental cult leader eddie, cultist activities and discussion, breeding kink, little daddy kink, knife play, horror themes toward the end, it's filthy and horribly written.

eddie wants to listen to the conversation, wants to be able to give his input. he really does, but he’s too lost in the way your hands move in efficise and the harsh tone of your voice. he knows the debate is on star wars, and that it’s you verses mike and lucas while the other five, including himself watch intently. dustin looks highly annoyed, and the other three are just gazing at you amusedly. and eddie? eddie looks absolutely love sick at the way you practically shout at the two freshmen.

“whatever y/n! you only watch star wars for han anyway. so your opinion is invalid.” lucas states, finally giving up on arguing, knowing he won’t win. he never does, and he’s not nearly as stubborn to do so as mike.

“that is so not true!” you snap offendedly. gareth smirks, probably recalling the time he went as solo for halloween.

“oh yeah?” mike chuckles, causing you to ball your fists and dig your nails into your palms. you get a devilish smile on your face, the one everyone knows means you’re about to shut mike down for good. eddie is practically purring as he watches with overwhelming fondness in his eyes.

“yeah, wheeler. because princess leia is hot too.”

there it is.

everyones’ jaws drop in shock, except for eddie who practically howls with laughter at mikes’ face, and dustin who’s staring down at the table. it takes a moment, but soon everyone else is laughing at mike too.

“god, can you guys please just shut the hell up!” dustin snaps, interrupting eveyones’ laughter. eddie feels anger rising in his chest at the way your face falls. it’s quickly replaced with adoration at the way you become concerned for the younger counterpart that is constantly attached to you at the hip.

“what’s wrong, dusty?” you ask softly, reaching across the table to pat his shoulder. eddie turns to look at dustin in question, desperately attempting to ignore the way his heart swells at your gentleness.

“headache.” the boy mumbles, pressing on his temples with middle finger and thumb.

“aw, hun.” you coo, reaching up to softly run your knuckles over his jaw. the sight has everyone else annoyed, but your parental affection causes eddies’ jeans to get tight. “i’ll be right back, i have some tylenol in my locker.” you asure, well worn converse squeaking as you stand from your seat.

“thanks, hellfire mom.” dustin huffs. you simply smile at him before rushing out of the cafeteria and down the hall.

“more like hellfire mommy, right gareth?” mike chuckles once you’re out of earshot. gareths’ face grows warm as he attempts to hide his embarrassment by taking a sip of his drink.

“excuse me?” eddie growls, glaring daggers at mike.

“oh- uh, it’s just some joke we made.” mike stammers, trying to shrug it off. eddie tightens his fist and clenches his jaw.

“then explain it.” he retorts, noticing the panic in mikes’ eyes. he breaks eye contact nervously, looking to lucas and jeff for help. gareth is still hiding behind his can of coke.

“it’s- it’s just something stupid we said the other day when we were talking about y/n-” lucas interjects.

“and what sort of things do you say about her when she’s not there?” they all know eddie is testing them. it’s like the anger is wafting off of him in droves. jeff is about to brush it off when dustin speaks.

“god, you have no idea! they’re disgusting.” dustin tells eddie, who takes care to show he’s actively listening to dustin; but it’s so difficult when all he wants to do is rip the other boys apart.

“all of them?” he asks dustin, voice feigning innocence. when dustin nods, the way eddie slowly turns his gaze back down the table has everyone terrified.

luckily for eddie, he had all week to plan the most sadistic campaign he could think of, and it was all paying off now.

“no! he’s the traitor?” dustin yells, close to the brink of tears. gareth is hiding his head in his hands, lucas gripping the table to keep himself from panicking, mike is attempting to argue with eddie, jeff is hyperventilating, and you? you’re sitting in dead silence, staring blankly at the small figure eddie has placed on the table. you look horrified, and he’s eating it up.

“he- he can’t be! we told him everything! we trusted him! princess y/n slept with him for gods’ sake!” mike shouts, voice somewhere close to unhinged.

“which leads me to my next order of business.” eddie grins, leaning forward, fists holding up his chin and elbows on his armrests. “princess y/n-” he hums, pulling your attention away from the table. “i’m afraid it’s time you roll for pregnancy.” he grins slyly. your jaw drops, eyes pleading and shocked.

“eddie, please don’t make me do this.” you whine. he wants to give in, and typically he would, but not tonight. tonight he’s going to show everyone just how goddamn serious he can get. he doesn’t answer, instead opting for more theatrics. he stalks slowly behind you, crouching down to whisper in your ear.

“give me your hand, sweetheart.” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, feeling the way you shiver; which puts a smirk on his face. you timidly move your hand out, showing him your cupped palm. he drops the d-twenty into your grasp.

“eds-” you plead softly.

“there’s nothing to be nervous about, little lamb. it’s just a game.” he promises, pressing a small kiss to your temple.

with a deep breath, you roll the dice across the table. your eyes snap shut, not wanting to see the result, which just causes eddies’ smile to widen. he can’t help but think how adorable you look like this, the embarrassment finally catching up.

this would do it, finally. campaign after campaign he’s had to sit, watching as the boys convince you to seduce characters, all just so they could hear the words that border on filthy leave your lips.

“holy shit-” gareths’ gasp pulls him from his blissed daze.

“a perfect twenty-” dustin says in bewilderment. eddies’ smile grows malicious, the way your shoulders sink only adding to his power trip. this would show you and these children that he’s the only person who should be hearing you say those words.

“i think that’s a good place to call it quits. princess y/n is pregnant with a traitors’ baby, wheeler hanging on for his life, lucas wounded, and gareth three hits from death. should be interesting.”

it had been nearly fifteen minutes of everyone fruitlessly trying to convince eddie to keep going. eddie sent dustin home with gareth, which made him feel a little bad. the two of you always took dustin for milkshakes after hellfire. what made him feel even worse though is that you had grown oddly quiet while helping him clean up.

“what’s wrong, sweetheart?” he finally asks, wrapping his arms around you.

“i feel dumb, i tried to be funny and now it’s put the party in jeopardy.” the way you say it so sadly has his heart melting. the idea that you care so much is the cutest thing he thinks he’s ever seen.

“don’t worry, y/n. c’mon-” he whispers, grabbing your hand to tug you toward the door, “i have a surprise for you.” he beams, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

you don’t question him, simply following closely behind him in the darkness. you can barely see an inch in front of your face, the forest cover working to block out any moonlight. with anyone else you’d be terrified, but you grasp eddies’ hand and let him lead you like a shepherd to a lamb; but if you’re a lamb, eddie is the big bad wolf, waiting to rip you apart.

when he finally stops the two of you, you can see a black sheet pinned up to two trees, obscuring the light flickering behind it.

“eds, what is this?” you ask softly, looking up at him. he’s staring at you, something pensive and contemplative on his face. he brings his hands up to cup your cheeks.

“i am about to make your biggest d&d regret a reality. if you truly don’t want this, now is your last chance to say so.”

your eyes get wide, a small gasp leaving your lips. how long had you wanted eddie like this? you had no idea, probably since day one. you give a small nod, but he only shakes his head.

“i need words, doll.” he presses. you take one of his hands from your face and slowly guide it to the plush part of your tummy.

“please eddie-” you whimper and he groans. his touch becomes immediately more rough, one hand holding your hip while the other grips your chin. his lips press shortly to yours, causing you to whine when he pulls back all too soon.

“i want you to get undressed, and wait in the center for me.” he informs you, finally pulling back the sheet to show you a large circle of candles. he can see the surprise on your face, chuckling lightly. “i figured-” he muses, “everyone calls hellfire a cult, so some cultist activities are long overdue.”

you don’t waste time, immediately following his orders and stripping down. when you’re finally naked, insecurity sinks in at the way eddie doesn’t take his eyes off you. you take a deep breath and begin walking into the large halo of light, but he catches your wrist.

“arms out.” he demands, pulling a set of handcuffs from the waist of his jeans. you’re momentarily taken back, but it’s eddie. you trust eddie, even if you shouldn’t sometimes. you let him click the metal in place around your wrists. he gives an experimental tug, testing the restraints before urging you to move. when your thighs begin to move together, you can feel the wetness starting to run down them, and it finally makes you notice the heat in the pit of your stomach.

you stumble shyly to the middle of the circle, legs wobbly with anticipation, and maybe even shock. this sure as hell wasn’t what you were expecting when you’d woken up for school this morning. you finally sit on your knees, pine needles and leaves poking at your skin. your hands are folded in your lap, waiting patiently for his next order.

“lay back and close your eyes.” he instructs, you can barely see him standing outside the rays of golden light. you lay down on your back, legs extending as you attempt to make yourself comfortable on the cold ground. your bound hands rest just under your breasts as you give an anxious sigh. “keep them closed.” he demands. you can hear him stepping closer, the sound of leaves crunching mixes with the shuffling of fabric.

it takes everything in you not to look up at him when he finally straddles you, setting himself to rest on your thighs. his weight on top of you is comfortable, helping to ease your nerves, until you feel it. the cold bite of metal poking at your chin.

your eyes shoot open, looking down to see the tip of his switchblade, oh so close to breaking the soft skin where your neck begins to slope. you look back up at him with horrified eyes, making him chuckle softly.

“my sweet girl. you talk a big game with all that fake confidence, if only those boys could see you right now- all at my mercy.” he smirks, beginning to move the blade slowly down your neck. if he pressed any harder, it’d open the flesh of your juggler before you’d even know it. the thought of it causes you to throb, whining at the ache between your legs.

“y’know, cult leaders normally have a chosen one. some cute little thing they keep on their arm, that they’d do anything for, because that person would earn it.” he hums, continuing to trail the blade downward, now nearly between your tits. “they earn it in blood,” he gits, pressing down just enough to leave a small slit on your skin. you can’t feel the pain of it; it’s completely shadowed by the one in your abdomen, the one that keeps growing worse by the second.

he’s quiet for a few moments, taking his time to admire the necklace he’d given you after helping you draw your d&d character for the first time. the black moon charm resting between your breast, the smallest trickle of blood running toward it has him groaning.

“they also earn it in babies.” he murmurs, pulling the blade away from your skin. he flips it, nearly expertly, so that he’s holding the blade. he moves back, sitting on his knees and opening your thighs. he moans at the sight, your slick creating a small string from one thigh to another. the way you clench around nothing when the cold air hits your cunt making his cock twitch.

“i’ve been giving you everything you ask for, since day fucking one, so now it’s your turn.” he begins to move the handle of the switchblade toward your center.

“wait, eddie-” you whimper, cuffed hands reaching out for him.

“i know baby.” he smiles darkly, “you had your chance to make your first time sweet and gentle, but you decided to be a show off. so now we do it my way.” he concludes, not giving you time to speak before he shoves the handle into you.

you give a sharp cry, head falling back and breathing becoming impossibly heavier. he grins, content hum leaving his throat as he starts to pump the object in and out of your heat. the sounds of your small cries and the wet sounds of your walls pulling the handle back in after every thrust is driving him up the wall. he brings thumb up to circle your clit, and the wounded cry you release makes him throb against his stomach.

“eds, it think i’m about to-” you warn him; he only nods.

“i know, you’re doing so well. how about you cum for me, little lamb?” he urges. as soon as the words leave his mouth, the pressure in your tummy releases. you practically scream, fists balling against your chest and back arching your hips in his direction.

when you come down, you're crying out and making grabby hands for him. the sight makes his chest hurt; you look so fucked out and so damn cute.

“i’ll be right back.” he mumbles, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before disappearing from your line of vision. when he reappears, he’s got one of the burning red candles in his hand. he places the free one in yours, letting you hold it tightly. “hold on tight, babygirl.” he warns.

you hiss when the hot wax splashes onto your pebbled nipple. how can something hurt and feel so fucking good at the same time? he takes his time, making intricate little trails of wax dots that go all over your chest and stomach.

“i- i need you!” you finally whimper, no longer able to ignore the ache that returned embarrassingly fast.

“you that eager to get my baby inside you?” he asks sarcastically. all you can do is moan and nod rapidly in response.

he makes quick work of positioning himself between your legs, hands coming to rest on the ground beside your head. you instinctively hook your knees over his hips, making him smirk. you reach up with a whine, wanting to hold him and put your hands in his hair. he takes the chain of the cuffs in his mouth, giving you a little more reach to complete the action.

“you ready, babydoll?” he breathes, hand coming up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

"please, eddie. please." you sob, gripping the hair rooted above his ears. it's all you can reach with the cuff.

he grins around the chain, ignoring the sharp taste and pain and he bites hard to the metal and tugs. you whine out at the strain of your limbs, but you're still pliant in his hold.

"then let me give it to you, angel." he growls between teeth and linked metal. before you can think, can ground yourself from the rasp of his words; he slams into your cunt. hard.

“eds!” you scream, tears springing up in your eyes as he ruthlessly rocks his hips into yours. it’s all so much, happening so fast. the way his dick, long and much thicker than you ever imagined when you laid alone in bed at night; or hell- even when you were with other guys. not that you’d ever gotten this far with them, they were never eddie. the way the twigs and dried leaves poke at your heated skin. the way the light of the candles flickers before your clamped eyelids.

it’s nearly disorienting, all of it happening at once in the quiet woods. nearly too quiet, and if you were thinking straight it would probably make you a little unnerved. “y’know, i think we need a name a little stronger than that.” he huffs, words strained with the exertion of his near-violent thrusts. he drops the chain from between his lips, smiling devilishly down at your fucked out expression. you’re looking up at him with pure adoration, and he wonders if you even know how desperate and loving your gaze is.

“i mean, i am your leader.” he states offhandedly, “and your soon-to-be baby daddy.” he snickers as the words make you groan, low if your chest and hips rocking into his movement. “got any ideas, little lamb?” you clench around him, making it nearly impossible to keep up his pace. “call me what you want, so i can make you scream it.”

he can practically see the gears turning behind yours eyes, and he moves to suck on the soft, hot, raised line he traced on your jugular. Instead of giving him an answer, you only moan louder. “c’mon, babe. don’t make me wait.” he grits, biting down hard on your neck, soft tip brushing your cervix and making you scream.

“daddy!” your voice is shrill and choked, but the word makes him feral.

“that’s it, be daddy’s good little lamb and take his baby.” he smirks, leaning up to press his lips to yours.

as soon as the words leave his mouth, you’re sobbing. your ankles lock around the swell of his ass, holding him inside while you wither around him. your neediness, mixed with the small cries that can’t be deciphered between ‘daddydaddydaddy-’ and ‘eddieeddieeddie-’ make him let go with you.

you both lie there, panting and holding each other while warmth of eddie's releases makes its home inside you. “did so good babe.” he hums, pressing a kiss to the side of your face.

the snapping of wood makes both of you pull your gazes apart. “what was that?” you ask softly, still cuffed hands holding his cheeks. he looks out into the dark abyss of the nighttime forest. another snap, this one much closer and far louder. “eds?” you breath, and the shakiness of your voice breaks his heart.

“i think we should go-” he moves to pull you up, but a harsh gust of wind rips through the trees and blows out the dancing light of the flames surrounding you. suddenly, you’re both scrambling to undo the cuffs and shuffle your clothes back on.

just as eddie slides his foot home in his shoe, you reach out and grab his hand. “do you hear that?” you whisper. the sound of heavy breathing fills the dark void around you. for the first time tonight, it’s not either of yours.

“let’s go.” he breathes, squeezing you hand and turning to rush out of the woods with you.

the moment you turn your backs, the most horrific, inhuman, grutal scream breaks the silence.

you both take off in a sprint, hands never leaving one another, even as eddie shoves you over the console and into the passenger seat, even as he speeds down the road fast enough to get arrested, not even when he pushes you into the door of his trailer. he uses his free hand to lock the deadbolt, finally letting go as rests his head against the pane of diamond shaped glass that looks out into his yard.

you wrap your arms tightly around his torso, burying your face into his shoulder blades. it’s almost like he can feel it, and dull throb coming from the soft part of your tummy and thumping against his back.

he knows it took, no time or test required. he knows.

a month later, neither of you know what happened that night.

he rubs soft circles on your scalp, trying to sooth your post-throw up panting. even for only being a month in, it’s hitting you hard.

he’d convinced himself it was a fox or a coyote; but now, as he listens to you cry about how tired you are- he knows he’s never going to make stupid fucking jokes about being a cult leader again. ever. even if it gets him what he wants.

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn #stranger things season 4 #eddie munson smut #josephquinn #holiday fics #halloween

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