#won't admit she needs someone to be with even in those times of eating her meal | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

conelluwrites · 10 days ago

Note

Hiii can u make a nam gyu x reader

About how u die in jump rope and he goes crazy

Or u overdose cause of a suicidal attempt but u survived

Thankkk uuu(:

Scared Of Burning In Hell (I'm Already There) AO3 link Requests open!! Words: 4.5k Warnings: angst, reader dies (suicide), suicidal thoughts, diversion of canon, canon typical Nam-gyu (he doesn't lose his pills though so take that as you will. There's no fluff here with him, he's not gentle or kind), mentions of sex (nothing like I typically do, there's a paragraph near the beginning and a sentence later on), Reader is a part of Thanos Team, Myung-gi is referred as MG Coin when he's mentioned most the time (reader doesn't know his name lol). Other: Combining these requests! I couldn't figure out how Reader would pull a Jun-hee without making her a 1:1 Jun-hee copy, so I changed that a tiny bit. Nam-gyu seems like the type to die with a lot of regrets. I did try to make the "relationship" more realistic given the time frame they've known each other. This is my new longest fic and I enjoyed writing this A LOT. Also sorry Gyeong-su lovers, he doesn't exist in this fic, you take his place as the sixth member of Thanos Team. Ao3 has the proper italics and bold words, unfortunately it won't allow me to post it with those for some reason in the fic itself.

Being in Thanos World offered decent enough companionship, she wasn’t alone at least and didn’t have to put up with the way her mind spirals when she’s alone. Thanos, Nam-gyu, Min-su, Se-mi, and her, well, it’s a nice enough team to be on. She didn’t have any dislike towards anyone in Team Thanos. Sure, outside of the games she can’t exactly say she’d get along or actively seek any of them out, but that doesn’t mean shit. Nam-gyu has taken a quick interest in her, quicker than what he’s used to but he shrugs it off- he knows a nice piece of ass when he sees it and damn does he see it.

Her laughter fills him with a level of confidence that’s only possible to describe as cockiness. It’s a thrill having such a pretty girl laugh along with him and not just be doing it for a drink or drugs, though he’s not too sure if she’s indulging him because she wants the safety that comes with camaraderie or because she’s actually interested in him. Her hand on his knee as she leans over to whisper in his ear. The whispers become hushed conversations become one-on-one talks. She’s actually fun to talk to, and not fun in a club slut kind of way either, in an actually engaging way.

It spirals quickly from there, especially when Thanos catches on to the budding… whatever the fuck they have going on. He actively encourages it, tight teamwork and all that shit- and what’s tighter than a nice cunt? Se-mi is less impressed, she doesn’t hate her or anything even close. She’s just disappointed in the way the woman’s eyes light up at Nam-gyu’s presence, and feels her skin crawl when Nam-gyu practically lays claim to her like she’s some object rather than a human being. Min-su is just happy to not be picked at as often. Nam-gyu does still pick at him, he just hates how damn weak he is.

It doesn’t take long for the touches to linger, to become less innocent and testing. Their eyes seek out each other after voting, after meals are rationed out, and after either of them return from the bathroom. Neither of them hide their mutual interest, but Nam-gyu doesn’t admit to it when asked by anyone. Especially not when that someone is her. Fuck- the way she quirks and eyebrow when he turns around and looks for her, it makes him feel shit he doesn’t want to. It pisses him off more than anything, but underneath it all there’s a feeling of relief. She sees him, wants him even after he’s popped pills and when he’s sober enough, needs to see him before they go to their bunks for the night.

A quick fuck in the bathroom- him lavishing her thighs in love bites and eating her pussy out before sinking into her heat. His hips pump out of rhythm, it’s sloppy and clumsy but he’s just chasing his own high while rubbing her clit as she sits haphazardly on the sink. His fingers sink into her hips to the point of pain as he bites her track jacket. It’s not making love, it’s not romantic. Not even as she cries out his name, not even as he grunts her name, not even as they both realize after they come down that they don’t want to separate. It’s not romance. It can’t be, not after just a few days. But it’s a nice thought, having someone to actually look forward to seeing even if it’s just in this hellhole.

When she asks if they could meet up after they get out- if they get out, she corrects herself- he just gives her a nod. He’s not about to promise her something as stupid as an everyday romance, he doesn’t have the time for it. But still… He can’t help the way his heart flutters in his chest or the way his palms clam up. He clenches them up into tight fists, a motion that doesn’t go unnoticed by her, but she doesn’t comment on it.

The night after they fucked, they became even closer. His arm slung over her shoulder or around her waist, shooting Thanos glares and slapping the back of his head when he drops one too many flirtatious lines, and catching himself before he calls her a bitch. It’s not that he’s gotten soft, not in such a short period of time, but rather he doesn’t want to lose the connection he forged so quickly. Connection is safety, connection is winning, connection is getting to the end. Connection is a means to an end. Connection is…

Two people

The audio cue rings out. He doesn’t fight as Thanos grabs his hand and he definitely doesn’t look over his shoulder, he definitely doesn’t see the immediate hurt, panic, and betrayal in her eyes. He doesn’t have time to focus on it as they slam the door shut and hold the door closed so no one can enter. He tells himself it doesn’t matter, she was nothing more than a quick fuck, nothing more than just a woman he used up, nothing more than a way to distract himself with something other than those colorful pills.

Gunshots interrupt his self assuring thoughts and he can’t help but stare out the small window. He’s not Thanos, he’s not about to ask where the fuck she is, who left her- he left her- but he needs to know she’s not getting gunned down where he abandoned her. She’s not in his line of sight at least, which is enough to make him breathe an audible sigh of relief as he runs his fingers through his hair to push it back from his face.

People walk back into the dormitory and he seeks her out. His eyes rake over every single body that comes into view until it lands on her. He doesn’t care about the boring prick that’s next to her, no doubt someone who saved her during the final round, but he feels a sharp hit of concern for her body language. She walks slowly, her eyes not lifting to look for him- and honestly why should they flit around the room like they usually do. She saw him enter a room, she saw him get to safety. She shakes his head, he can’t afford to focus on her feelings, not to a degree that it actually affects him. But when Thanos pushes his shoulder and nods over to the sheepish girl, he rolls his eyes and decides to stroll over. Act like it’s not a big deal, make her feel silly for being upset, diminish her feelings until she agrees it’s okay.

“Hey.” He says bluntly as the other people dissipate to their own groups. “You lived.”

“Yeah.”

Oof, a one liner. “So why are you upset?”

“Not important.”

He has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes, of course she’s being this way- typical woman- but it’s no less aggravating. Can’t she just brush it off and be that good girl again, the one that makes him feel like he has a place? He knows he needs to be more charming here, but his patience wears thin with her when he knows what she's capable of making him feel.

“Of course it’s important.” He grunts, slinging an arm over her shoulder to lead her back to the bunks they usually sit at instead of where she was headed. He doesn’t care where she was going, not when her place is by his side. “Look, I get that you’re mad but can’t you just-”

“Can’t I just what?” She says coldly, “Nam-gyu, I can’t just forget the fact you left me there.”

He can’t stop himself this time, and he knows it’s a bad look, but he rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. He stammers for a second before landing on the words he wants to say, but it doesn’t matter as Thanos gets both of their attention with a wave of his arms. It’s clear to him, and to anyone he might be listening to the pair, that they just need a break from each other.

A bathroom fight. It’s bloody, it’s painful, it’s agonizing. He’s lucky he managed to get out with just a hurt back and Thanos’s cross. Fuck, the pathetic look on that bastard’s face. He sneered, sneered even as he felt like he lost someone important.

The violence only escalates from there. Nam-gyu makes sure she stays huddled in his bunk, her hands over her ears which does nothing to block out the sounds of death. The gurgles seem to dance over from the opposite side of the room. She’s safe, she’s safe, she’s safe… But at what cost? At knowing her- her man is out there twisting a fork into whoever he comes across.

Her mind flashes to Se-mi and Min-su. She knows he has it out for Se-mi. Bile bubbles up in her throat as more screams flood her ears while she closes her eyes. It does little to make her feel less sick, instead all she can picture is Nam-gyu stabbing a fork in the woman and her blood spurting out as she tries to fight him off before her life finally fades.

It’s all a fucking blur. She feels like she’s outside of her own body when he returns to the bunk. He’s covered in blood- his arms, hands, chest, face, fuck… Every visible part of his body more or less is splattered and that fucking look in his eyes. He’s terrifying, he’s disgusting, he’s a monster, he’s-

“Don’t look at me like that.”

Nam-gyu and his woman were borderline inseparable now, especially with Thanos getting forked, Se-mi’s demise by his hand, and Min-su… Well, wherever that fuck that traitor is. Who else did he have to turn to? No one. She didn’t mind if he saw her as just someone to fill in the dead, empty air beside him. He’s a fucking disgusting mess, he knows he is. He can smell the coppery scent leeching off of him in waves. He can’t think about that right now- fuck he can’t think of anything right now. All he can think about is how damn strong he felt taking the life of that damn cunt. Put her right in her goddamn place and watched life melt away from her eyes. If only he coulda got his hands on that prick Min-su. He might have even made him suffer more, snuff his life out right beside that bitch who liked his weak ass so much. He can hear the woman, his woman, talking but it doesn’t process in his mind. When she hesitantly rests her head on his shoulder and takes his bloodied hand in her clean one his mind snaps away from the violence, snaps away from the thoughts of revenge, and all he can suddenly think about is her.

“Killed her,” he says, his voice shaking. He’s not scared, not sick, not upset, it’s trembling with something else entirely. When she doesn’t respond beyond her hand tightening on his for a second, he grunts. “What, don’t tell me you liked her. You’re better than that, baby girl.” His mind tries to replay any interaction she had with Se-mi, but all he can think about is the comforting weight on his shoulder, the way her shoes knock against his leg, and the way her thumb skips along the back of his hand. It’s oddly grounding, it’s a feeling that he shoves away to the back of his mind.

He doesn’t reciprocate the affection, doesn’t say anything else that makes any sort of sense- his mind skips and repeats, as does his words. But she doesn’t shut him up, doesn’t call him stupid, she just sits in silence.

The rebellion, to no one’s shock, failed. Which means after another vote, the games gotta go on. He’d feel bad for his girl if he didn’t want to see that won amount increase, she’d be happier with more won too- he just knows it. He doesn’t feel guilt when he votes to stay and she hesitates to hit the blue button. He feels a hint of disgust that she’s so damn weak, so damn pathetic.

A blue ball in her his hand and she feels her blood grow cold. Whatever the game is that’s coming up, she’s not on the same team as Nam-gyu. She looks over at him like one of those damn abused stray dogs he would see when he’d walk to the club from his shitty, destroyed apartment. She looks miserable, looks damn lost… It makes his cock stir, but he pushes that thought away. As much as he’d love to pin her down, yank those track pants down, and show everyone in this fucked up shitshow who she belongs to, he knows there’s more important things than a simple fuck.

When he’s done taunting Min-su, drawing her attention with his loud, obnoxiously on point for a Thanos impersonator of a my boyyy Min-su! he saunters over to her. He waves his knife around, gesturing with it as he talks wildly about how he’ll protect her if she can’t find a red vest to switch with. However, he kneels in front of her, tapping her cheek in a way that looks tender to anyone looking on but is anything and just stares into her eyes for a moment.

“I mean it, girl, I’ll protect you.” He says, standing up now and towering over her sitting form. He looks like a goddamn nightmare. “I’ll find you in there and keep you safe. I plan on teaming up with that MG Coin, after I secure a nice, easy kill we’ll get you and you’ll be safe. Ain’t no one gonna fuckin’ ruin your sweet like body.” She stares up at him as he holds up Thanos’s necklace and shakes it slightly, the colorful pills shaking within it. “You really need t’take one of these, make it easier on yourself.”

She shakes her head, as much as she craves some form of escape, she doesn’t want to be alone after popping one for the first time.

“Suit yourself, I guess.” He says with a shrug, moving out the way so she can move to the actual game room… rooms? Whatever the fuck… He has more important things to focus on now that she’s gone. It’s a simple plan, get MG Coin on his side at any cost, kill some dumb pussy, find her, keep her safe and wait out the time. Easy- he won’t have to be alone.

The starry ceiling is low set and the entering room is making her feel closed in as everyone looks around. She sets her path on a hallway, she’s utterly alone and she hates it. But he’ll find her, he’ll keep her safe. Why wouldn’t he?

That bastard… That fucking bastard.

Oh, I’ll protect you, I’ll keep you safe. What, don’t you trust me, señorita? It’s us against this entire shit. I got you.

Utter bullshit. She could hear his cackling laughter, his sing-songy voice, and his skipping steps. She peeks out from the corner and he spots her- he always does, his damn soul is connected to hers- and he taps rapidly on MG Coin’s shoulder and gestures over the overwhelmed woman with his knife. They both have blood splattered on their faces, Nam-gyu looks manic while MG Coin looks more like a man who’s rapidly losing his control on Nam-gyu. She doesn’t know if she wants to run away towards them, not like it really matters as MG Coin rolls his eyes and follows Nam-gyu to her “hiding” spot.

“There you are, my girl! Looked all over for you. The fuck? Where were you even hiding, hmm?”

“I was looking for you while- while avoiding other red vests.”

He pouts- what a poor, sad girl who was wandering all around this cramped space for him.

“Hey, man, I gotta find Jun-hee. Let’s just go.”

“Go find that bitch then, I found mine. Later, The Amazing Myung-gi.”

MG Coin looks utterly annoyed, but doesn’t comment before darting back the way he came. Nam-gyu shoves her back towards a door and groans when it doesn’t open. No matter though, he has a key for every option. When his trembling, blood covered hands finally manage to unlock the door, he shoves her inside hard. She crashes to the ground with a thud and flinches back away from him. She cowers herself into the corner as he walks towards her in uneven strides.

“Why you actin’ all scared? Are you scared of me?”

He gets down on all fours and crawls towards her looking like a big cat cornering a small prey animal. It would be so damn hot if it weren’t so terrifying. Her heart pounds rapidly in her chest as she tries to press herself into the walls, tries to sink into them to get away from him. It makes him grin- she’s just so damn cute! All scared of him ‘nd shit… He could just eat her the fuck up.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, you should know that. I don’t have anyone else. You wouldn’t leave me? You wouldn’t leave me, right?” He says, his face so close to her own. “Maybe I need to make sure you can’t leave me, hm?” He trails the blade down her cheek, not pressing enough to intentionally cut but blood still beads to the surface. He leans forward and licks it. His laughter fills the room afterwards, she looks confused and disgusted. He doesn’t want to hurt her, not enough to kill her. He just wants to make her reliant on him like he’s reliant on her.

He tsks before digging the knife into her leg. It’s not enough to be fatal, it’s not enough for her to bleed out, but goddamn does he immediately regret it. It’s like when you’re a kid ‘nd you pour salt on a snail just to see what happens. Poor thing.

She covers her mouth to prevent herself from crying out loudly, with Nam-gyu’s back to the door it would put them both at a disadvantage.

“Just stick with me, y’know? You won’t get hurt no more, promise you girl. I did this for us.”

Oh the way she avoids him, limping slightly through the dormitory to her own bunk instead of his like she used to do.

“C’mon. You can’t do this shit alone.” He says, sitting next to her. Without the overwhelming haze of drugs he can recognize just how badly he fucked up but it’s not enough for ehr to be acting like this. He’ll take care of her during the next game for sure.

The rope creaked and popped as it rotated, every noise caused her to flinch and huddle closer to the doors that they just came from.

She looks over the edge to see the drop and stumbles slightly. She’s not a fan of heights, especially not now. Jumprope isn’t hard, it should be an easy game.

“Steady there, girl.”

She tenses immediately and looks back at Nam-gyu who’s standing there. He looks damn proud of himself, so fucking cocky as he smirks at her. She wants to wipe that stupid grin from his lips. She would rather be talking to anyone other than him

“Don’t glare at me like that, hurts my feelings.” He says with a fake pout, then gives her another grin as he reaches out to pat her shoulders. His fingers then dig up into her jacket as he takes the time to look over her body. He doesn’t care about the wound he inflicted, not beyond the fact that it’s the reason she’s been so damn moody now. He looks towards the bridge where people are getting across and then back at her.

“Look, make it across and I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I’d never break a promise, not to you. Now come on, we gotta go. It’s just you, that damn bitch who had a baby, and me. That bitch ain’t making it any time soon. Just follow behind me.”

She doesn’t move willingly as he tugs her to the bridge. She follows him reluctantly, every jump making her leg scream out in pain.

He crosses and is welcomed by that one guy, 456.

She never wanted to die alone, the idea used to haunt her as a child As she got older, though, it became an idea she had to accept. Most people die alone. At least if she dies here, if she dies now, she’ll have control over something when it comes to death.

It’s almost comforting to know the nightmare is almost over, that soon she’ll be accepted into the sweetness that’s death. Open arms, all for her- just as he once was.

“Come on already!”

His voice. She hates it. She hates him. She hates the pain in her leg. She hates, she hates, she hates. She keeps jumping in place, feeling the burn of tears behind her eyes. She doesn’t want to win anymore, she just wants it to be over. She knows even if she makes it to the finals, even if she wins, her leg is no doubt infected. There was no soap, no help, no concern. Fuck it hurts. She won’t be able to go against the men in front of her, even if Nam-gyu did have a change of heart and decided to truly care about her.

His eyes look at her, he looks so desperate as if he can feel her giving up. And maybe he can, she can’t hide her feelings very well when it comes to how defeated she feels. It feels right, it feels like this is what she was meant to do. Her time is over. And that’s okay, she thinks, or rather it has to be.

Nam-gyu reaches his hand out as if that’ll get her to come forward, it makes the tears that were welling up behind her eyes overflow. She wants to reach out, wants to get to the other side, but what’s the point in prolonging her suffering, what’s the point of trusting him again and again?

Crack

It’s not an audible noise to anyone else, but it’s one the last noises she hears. The mechanical rope connects with her ankle knocking her off balance completely. The world moves in slow motion afterwards as she cracks her ribs against the bridge. The drop isn’t long enough to comprehend the pain that follows her rib cage bruising, nor is it enough to comprehend just how terrifying the fall is. She screams regardless. The abrupt ending to a shitty last couple of days. Her body is contorted at odd angles, blood seeps around her.

Nam-gyu feels his heart drop and his blood run completely cold. It’s a quick sobering feeling as she- as his woman- falls like a damn ragdoll down, down, down. The noise makes him double over. His world fucking spins and not in a good way.

All he can think about is the way she’s been flinching away from him, the way she’s stared at him, shrunk away from him, the way she didn’t want to be around him. Fuck, he hates it. It makes his brain hurt and his stomach churn.

Regret.

He doesn’t care when Jun-hee jumps, all he can fucking think about is how his girl is down there alone. He thinks about how Thanos gurgled and spurted blood, he knows realistically she’s not down there dying, she’s not convulsing, she’s not suffering- but goddammit…

He barely registers when he’s dragged back to the dormitory. He could barely handle it when Thanos’s damn laughter filled his head, but now her laughter joins his. He sits with his knees up to his chest and his hands over his ears but the laughter only gets louder.

“Nam-gyu.” Her voice sounds like it’s right beside him and he jumps back, looking on either side of him. There’s no one there, not really, but it doesn’t prevent him from hallucinating her. She’s sat so pretty next to him, covering her mouth as she giggles. “Found you.”

“You’re not real.” He stammers out, shaking his head. It’s not the first time he’s hallucinated crazy shit, not even the first time he’s hallucinated some dead bitch, but it’s the first time he’s felt this way. Regret, depression, agonizing loneliness…

“I’m not…?” Goddamn, why does she sound so sad? He wants to reach out and cradle her, wants to tell her he’s sorry, wants to explain himself, but he absolutely can’t. “I was real, though. I was real, I trusted you… You hurt me.”

“I-I-”

“You killed me- you’re why, you’re why, you’re why-”

“Shut up!” He can feel the gazes of the other players hit him immediately and the shrill cry of the newborn. He wipes his face and then wipes his hand on his shirt. He can’t shake the feeling of their stares even when they look away. He shakily takes a drink of his water, some of it missing his mouth entirely making him look even more like a mess than he fucking is.

“You’re always so mean. I liked you, Nam-gyu.” His throat bubbles with bile at her sweet, soothing words. He wants to throw up, wants to empty his barely filled stomach all over his bunk. The bunk where he had so many moments with the girl he- he- he-

He can’t afford to think about how he felt for her, he can’t handle the weight of the feelings that come rushing forward. He doesn’t want to face the fact that he honestly liked her. He looks down at his hands and clenches the one that reached out for her tightly until his nails dig into palms. His teeth dig into his bottom lip until he winces from the pain.

“Nam-su, she liked you, man. How could you do that to her?”

“Nam-gyu, I liked you so much. How could you do that to me?”

He swallows back vomit again. He wants them to shut up. He doesn’t need to be told by his goddamn dead friend and her how she felt for him.

The minutes feel like hours, he wants to die, wants to die, wants to fucking end it all. He can’t OD, not on the singular pill that floats around that goddamn cross. There’s no blade to cut himself until his arms look like minced meat and he’s bleeding out. He can’t even hang himself like that old hag did. He’s forced to sit on his bed and listen to them taunt him, remind him of his failures, and tell him to end it all- to join them.

Companionship is disgusting, companionship is an illness, companionship is a weakness.

Companionship is-

Eughh… The alarm for the new day breaks him from his thoughts. He won’t face this day alone, not when he’s haunted by the girl- his girl.

#nam gyu x reader #squid game x reader #nam gyu #squid game

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lbcreations-blog · 1 year ago

Text

Yandere Alastor with daughter reader

A Stag and his Fawn

‐-----‐----‐-----------------------------------

(Not proof read cause I'm tired but I need to post)

Masterlist

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Alastor was your adoptive father. He adopted you when you were both still alive. You were only a baby at the time, being left in a dumpster.

When Alastor was dumping bodys in the dumpster he found you, he was originally going to put you in a foster home, but when he saw you open your eyes and look at him seeming at peice, he knew it was a bad idea to put you in any foster home.

Of course, he could not just take you in. He had to get you some medical treatment. So he took you to the nearest hospital to get a check-up and other things. Then he had to do even more other things like birth certificate and adoption stuff. (You know, the essentials)

Anyways, once you were old enough, he taught you his ways of voodoo and murder. (You were already learning from about 4, lmao), and you became a perfect daughter to him (even though you were already perfect to him).

If you were to get bullied in school, those kids would regret it. He would also teach those kids' parents a lesson as well.

If you end up dying before him from it being someone's fault, he would torture that person/persons and eat that person's corpse.

Once he enters hell, he would search for you while aswell becoming a terrifying overlord. And once he finds you, he would pretend you are not his daughter in public so you would not get targeted. He knows you can look after yourself so he would let you in public by yourself, but a shadow will follow you.

But if you are an overlord, he wouldn't admit being your father, but he will treat you like his daughter in public, and he will let others' theories flow. (Overlord or not, a shadow will follow you, btw)

Now, if he dies first, he will patiently wait for you. You, of course, kill the one who mistakes your father for a deer. You then live life how he wanted you to, until you finally arrive in hell.

Once you arrive in hell, he ether will take a while to find you or find you quickly. If you quickly become an overlord just like him, he would be proud, like you have no idea.

(The ways he is with you in hell is the same as I explained in the first death choice.)

Of course, introducing you to people as Alastors' daughter, you will get interesting reactions.

The overlords would be shocked, to say the least, Carmila might like Alastor slightly more cause she has her own daughters.

Now the hotel's reactions ig

Of course, the entire hotel is shocked except for niffty and husk cause yall already probably met (I would tell you that, but that's a different kind of worm)

Anyway, sir pentious would be most likely terrified of you or just won't admit it.

Angel- well, Angel-... he's probably going to start off with sex jokes, and how unfair it is that some random bitch got to fuck Alastor. Your father was not happy.

Vaggie is very suspicious of you once you met. She knew how your father was, so you were not trustworthy. (Which was fair, you showed that same creepy smile your father did)

Charlie loved meeting you. She was and is so happy that Alastor has a daughter and she is and was happy to meet you. She was hoping to help you get redeemed, but you just told her you would rather be in hell with your father.

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I was going to make Alastor more yandere but because of 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑠, he's like that, ok? OK

I did get lazy at the end, so... Yyyeeeaaaa

Hope you enjoyed it

- 𝐋.𝐁 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

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gatitties · 6 months ago

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Oh, oh! I have a idea! Because i was read the new post about reader who didn't mind to eat spicy food made me giggled and gave me a new idea.

How about.. a reader, who is just popping out of nowhere?

Like every time someone doing anything or someone calls their name, they're like "Hello!" and then startling the people in the process. It would be funny!

Can the straw hats, heart pirates, and kid pirates react?

─Heart Pirates & Kid Pirates x reader

─Summary: You appear and disappear like a magician when your name is called, scaring everyone.

─Warnings: none

Strawhats ver.

Oh, I have a similar post with the strawhats, but not for the other two hehehe

─ If you're going to kill the entire crew with a heart attack, you're doing it just fine, Law doesn't even understand how you appear out of nowhere.

─ Do you have some kind of secret power that they don't know about? He really thinks about it seriously.

─ Poor Bepo, no matter how many times it happens, he'll always be startled when he does a double take and finds you in a corner where you definitely weren't just a second ago.

─ As incredible as it may seem, Shachi and Penguin can detect when and where you'll appear, as if they sense the storm brewing with your mere presence.

─ Ikkaku has scolded you so many times for scaring her in the kitchen, more than once she's hit you with a spoon accidentally just like Jean Bart, these two have fragile hearts, give them a break.

─ Law prepares a random object to teleport you somewhere else when he says your name, but you still go back to the room as if he hadn't sent you to the other end of the submarine.

─ He'll send you on all the missions that require a minimum of stealth, or simply if he wants to scare someone he doesn't like.

─ They start to think you live in the walls or something, you don't just appear out of nowhere, you also find out about all the gossip without being present (or that's what they think).

─ Sometimes they blame you if something breaks, even if you have nothing to do with it, since they assume you're everywhere like an omnipotent being, it's more likely that it's your fault.

─ Those days are a chaos of accusations to prove your innocence, because obviously it wasn't you, right? Probably not…

─ It was surprising the first few times, and yes, you scared some of them, but it's a regular thing now.

─ They don't understand where you come from, if it's a power or something, they don't question it either, but what they don't understand is why you just stare at them for a few seconds in silence before disappearing out of nowhere again.

─ Probably some staring contests with Wire until you get tired and disappear (you don't have to admit defeat if you run away before).

─ Whenever Kid needs help in his workshop he just says your name like it was a summons and there you are before he finishes saying your name.

─ Whenever they want to talk about you they call you “the-one-who-must-not-be-named” so you don't appear out of nowhere, it's very difficult to keep secrets from you when you seem to be everywhere at all times.

─ Although it is a plus point, you find out a lot of things, so you have long gossip talks with Heat and Wire.

─ Killer won't be surprised if he finds you in the kitchen at any time of the day having a small snack, you'll be gone in a blink as if you melted into the shadows before he can scold you.

─ They make bets on where or when you will appear in front of them during the day, the one who guesses the most can get out of doing chores the next day.

─ If something explodes out of nowhere, all the blame will be on you and you won't even be able to prove that it wasn't you, you can't fool Killer.

─ They definitely use you as an escape method if they are in a bind, you are a good distraction method against enemies.

#one piece #op #reader insert #sfw #request #x reader #one piece x reader #heart pirates #kid pirates #heart pirates x reader #kid pirates x reader

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claramelooo · 5 months ago

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WOVEN FATES (8/20)

You guys put so much expectations into this, that i'm even afraid I won't reach them LOL

Thanks so much for your compliments and every words of supports. Thanks for loving Woven Fates.

I hope you can enjoy it <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio x Fem Reader

Summary: Your change in the script is acclaimed by everyone, especially by Agatha.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist

Home

The morning warmth seeped through the gaps in the curtains, tinting the room with a soft golden glow. The sheets were smooth against your skin, and their scent still lingered on the pillows and blanket around you—a familiar blend of jasmine, cinnamon, and sandalwood. It was hard to admit, but the scent was becoming familiar to you. Something that was uniquely theirs.

You blinked slowly, trying to dispel the haze of sleep. The room was silent. No lazy laughter from Rio, no sharp remark from Agatha. Only the echoes of everything that had happened the night before swirled in your mind, mingling with the exhaustion that still weighed on your body.

The bed was empty.

The mattress dipped slightly beside you, a trace of someone's weight that had been there but was no longer. You ran your hand over the space, feeling the cool fabric beneath your fingers. The emptiness was unsettling. As if everything had been a dream and, at the same time, too real to ignore.

Swallowing dryly, you slowly sat up, your muscles still sore, your mind foggy. Your gaze found the large bedroom window, the curtains open, revealing the view of Pacific Palisades.

The sun reflected off the mansion's imposing gate, a solid reminder of where you were and who you were with. Outside, everything seemed normal—the vibrant green of the trees, the cloudless sky, the promise of a peaceful day. But inside you, nothing was at peace.

The remnants of last night still vibrated under your skin. Their touch, their gaze, the weight of the words that had been spoken—and those that had lingered in the air. You felt a lump form in your throat.

Taking a deep breath, you ran your hands over your face, trying to dispel the heat rising, the confusion that wrapped around you. Your fingers clenched the sheets, and an insistent thought took over your mind.

Where had they gone?

And why did this feeling fill you so quickly?

The silence of the room weighed heavily, and for a moment, you didn’t know if you wanted to get up or simply sink back into the sheets, into their scent, into everything that had changed since you entered that house.

Then, the abrupt sound of the door opening made your heart leap in your chest.

Rio entered first, carrying a tray full of food—fresh fruit, cereals, delicate breads, and other things you couldn't even name. Her smile was bright, almost mischievous, as if she was having fun at your expense. Agatha came in right after, her expression neutral, but her eyes sharp, assessing you from head to toe as if she wanted to make sure you were still there, still… hers.

"Well, look who finally woke up," Rio sang, placing the tray on the bedside table. "We were about to call a doctor."

You opened your mouth to respond but hesitated. Neither of them mentioned last night. Neither looked at you with the weight of what had happened. It was as if nothing had been said, as if nothing had happened.

So maybe you should act that way too.

"I… did I sleep too long?" Your voice came out rough, and Agatha only raised an eyebrow before sitting in the nearby armchair, crossing her legs with her usual elegance.

"Enough."

You didn’t know if that was an answer or an assessment. But Rio sat beside you, picking up a piece of strawberry and holding it in front of your mouth. "Here. You need to eat."

There was something in the way she did it, something too implicit to be named. You hesitated for a second before accepting it, feeling the sweet flavor burst against your tongue. Something inside you warmed at that simple gesture. The care. The tenderness—you opened your mouth, letting the sweet and tangy taste of the fruit spread across your tongue. Rio smiled, satisfied.

The taste was sweet and comforting, spreading warmth through your tongue and sliding down smoothly. Rio smiled as if she had just won some silent competition. As if you were a frightened little creature that had just decided to trust her.

She looked at Agatha with her chocolate-brown eyes shining, and your heart pounded in your chest.

You weren’t used to this.

Your whole life, you had been forced to be strong. From a very young age, with no one to hold your hand, no one to guide you. Taking on responsibilities that shouldn’t have been yours, learning too soon that the world was cruel and that trusting others was an expensive luxury.

But now…

Now, you were here, surrounded by something you never knew how to name. Being taken care of. And, strangely, it felt good.

You lowered your gaze, your throat tightening with something you couldn't describe. Agatha’s hands slid through your hair, smoothing the messy strands with an unexpected, lazy touch down your back.

"Eat slowly," she said, her voice softer than you expected. "We wouldn’t want you to choke."

You simply nodded, accepting another piece of fruit from Rio, allowing yourself, for a moment, to simply be small.

"Good girl," she praised, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

Your heart gave a small leap. You lowered your head, feeling the heat rise to your face.

The comfortable silence of the Sunday morning settled in the room as you finished your breakfast in bed, the blankets still tangled around you. Rio had already gotten up, but Agatha remained lying beside you, her eyes closed, her lips pursed in what seemed like a sleepy grumble.

You looked out the window, observing the scenery. The sky was clear, light blue, and a soft breeze stirred the leaves of the trees in the mansion’s vast garden. It was a perfect day to go out, to do something different. So, without thinking too much, you broke the lazy silence with a suggestion:

"Can we go out?"

"Go out?" Agatha asked, evident irritation in her tone, as if the word was distasteful.

"Yes, it's so beautiful outside."

Rio took another sip of her coffee, humming.

"And what were you thinking, dear?"

You shifted your gaze to the scenery again, seeing the sun and the sky once more. "Maybe go to the park or the beach… I’d love to."

The answer came immediately, firm and definitive. "Absolutely not."

You blinked, surprised by Agatha’s abrupt refusal. "Why?"

She didn’t respond immediately, lying back on her side of the bed and staring at you with a scrutinizing look. Then, she closed her eyes, turning to the other side, clearly ending the conversation.

Before you could insist, Rio, who had already gotten up and was near the door rolling up the sleeves of her blouse, intervened with her always calm and melodic voice. "You know, darling, if you want to go out, you can come with me to the garden. I wanted to work on the plants today. It’s a beautiful day for that."

Your eyes lit up at the idea. "The garden? I’d love to!"

Rio smiled back at you, her brown eyes dancing with amusement and a certain pride for having found an alternative that wouldn’t provoke Agatha’s resistance. "Great. Go get changed, then. I want to see you with your hands in the dirt."

You got up excitedly, heading to the closet to pick something comfortable. As you chose your clothes, your mind lingered on Agatha’s reaction. The way she had simply refused to go out, without even giving you an explanation, unsettled you. It was a mystery, like so many other things about her.

Rio, on the other hand, seemed so at ease with everything. She loved the garden, the flowers, the wet earth between her fingers. The way she spoke about it made you curious, as if there was something special about it. Maybe, somehow, spending the morning by her side would help you understand a little more about this woman and, perhaps, a little more about yourself too.

As you stepped out of the room, you cast one last glance at Agatha. She was still lying down, eyes closed, but you knew she wasn’t asleep. Her chest rose and fell slowly, as if she were controlling her own breathing. You wondered what was going through her mind at that moment. And if one day, she would let you know.

The sun was already high in the sky when you and Rio started working in the garden. The scent of damp earth mixed with the perfume of flowers, creating a serene atmosphere. Rio knelt beside you, her fingers skillfully gliding over the stem of a rose as she explained patiently.

"Did you know roses change color depending on the pH of the soil?" she said, her eyes glinting as she dug into the earth with a trowel. "If the soil is more acidic, they tend to turn reddish. If it’s more alkaline, they shift to lighter shades."

You looked at her, intrigued. "So, it’s like they adapt to their environment?"

Rio smiled. "Exactly. Some flowers do it to survive, to adapt. Others… simply reveal more of themselves over time."

There was something about her words that resonated with you. Your fingers idly played with the soil as you tried to organize your thoughts. "You really love this, huh?"

"I do. Taking care of plants, watching them grow, understanding their cycles." Rio turned to you, her gaze soft but attentive. "It reminds me that everything happens in its own time," she said in a wise, enigmatic tone.

The silence that followed was comfortable. Only the sound of birds and the rustling of leaves filled the space between you. Then, suddenly, Rio leaned in closer, her dark eyes locked onto yours.

"Sweetheart, you have something here…" She reached out, wiping the dirt from your cheek, not pulling away an inch, and your heart felt like it was about to leap out of your chest.

"T-thank you…" you whispered softly.

"You’re so sweet, aren’t you?" Her scent was a mix of earth, cinnamon, and something intoxicating you couldn’t quite name.

Rio’s fingers brushed lightly against your cheek, and her lips hovered near yours, sealing them in a brief, chaste kiss before you pulled away abruptly.

"This… isn't wrong?" you asked, your tone uncertain. "You're married."

Rio held your gaze, but instead of irritation or frustration, there was only patience and something that looked like tenderness. "We’re in agreement about this. We both want you, sweetheart, and that’s no secret."

Your stomach tightened at her words. "But it’s weird… You two are already married, you’ve been together for years. Isn’t this—" your hesitant, flustered voice was cut off.

"First, just because we're unconventional doesn’t mean we’re weird, sweetheart," she gently corrected, making your cheeks heat at her maternal tone. "Second, we’re undeniably drawn to you. We even tried resisting it, but it only gave us more headaches," she concluded with a small, knowing smile.

You didn’t answer right away, your chest rising and falling erratically. It all felt too big, too new. "But… but she’s not even as affectionate with me as you are. How could she want me?"

Rio sighed, but a small smile formed on her lips. "Agatha doesn’t show things the way I do. It was never natural for her." She tilted her head, studying your expression carefully. "But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel. You just need to learn how to read the signs. She takes care of you in a different way. It’s in the details."

You remained silent, absorbing her words. Your heart was still racing, and the idea of being part of their lives in such an intense way felt both terrifying and tempting.

Rio smiled again and turned her attention back to the flower in her hands. "Now, help me replant this before the sun gets too strong."

Even in your confusion, you nodded and returned to work. But Rio’s words still echoed inside you, like seeds planted in fertile soil, ready to bloom.

The sun was high by the time you returned from the garden. Your fingers still had traces of soil beneath your nails, and the fresh scent of plants clung to your skin. You felt lighter, in a way you hadn’t in a long time, and Rio noticed. She smirked, satisfied with the effect the peaceful morning had on you.

Then, Agatha’s voice cut through the lazy afternoon silence.

"You two," she called from the veranda, her blue eyes hidden beneath dark sunglasses, clad in a deep-cut navy blue swimsuit. "Come, let’s go to the pool."

You blinked, surprised. Agatha had never suggested anything like this before. You glanced at Rio, who also seemed intrigued, but soon broke into an excited smile. "Oh, that sounds like a great idea, love. It’s really hot today."

Your heart pounded at the thought. The day’s heat made your skin tingle, and the idea of cool water felt irresistible. Without thinking too much, a wide, genuine smile lit up your face. "Really? We’re actually going?"

At that moment, Agatha visibly tensed. Her shoulders stiffened, her gaze lingered on you longer than usual, observing that bright smile that, for a brief moment, left her speechless. She cleared her throat, looking away and lifting her chin as if regaining composure.

"That’s what I said," she replied, her gaze averted, trying to sound firm.

Rio chuckled quietly, noticing her wife’s tension but choosing not to comment. Instead, she turned to you with a playful glint in her eyes. "Go change, little gem. But don’t take too long." Her voice was affectionate but carried a teasing tone, as if she wanted to provoke Agatha.

You nodded quickly, your heart racing at the prospect of something so simple yet so rare—an afternoon of leisure with them. As you walked away, you heard Rio whisper to Agatha, "And yet I’m the one who spoils her, huh?"

Agatha grumbled something inaudible, but you were already too far to catch it.

Upon entering your room, you found Lucky lying on his back, belly up, completely relaxed. For a moment, you reflected on how your life had always been about survival—never about truly living.

You grabbed your bikini—a tiny, worn-out piece you’d had since you were 19—and cursed yourself for not updating your wardrobe before agreeing to stay here.

When you returned, already dressed, you found them by the pool. Rio sat on the deck, her hair in a messy bun, wearing sunglasses, applying a generous amount of sunscreen on Agatha, who was lying on her stomach on a bamboo lounger. Rio’s large, gentle hands moved over her pale skin with a devotion you had never seen before. It was beautiful how much she loved her wife, and it made you think back to your conversation earlier.

As you approached them, Rio lifted her sunglasses to get a better look at you, whistling lowly. "Well, would you look at that… I didn’t know we were being treated to a private show, but I love the idea."

Your face instantly heated up, and before you could respond, Rio stood up, grabbing a towel. "I’m heading to the kitchen to make some snacks and grab drinks. Make yourselves comfortable, my queens."

And just like that, you were left alone with Agatha.

The woman lifted her gaze to you, removing her sunglasses, analyzing you slowly, as if pondering something. "That bikini is tiny," she remarked, in a tone that wasn’t exactly scolding but wasn’t entirely neutral either.

You chuckled awkwardly. “I’ve had it since I was 19. I should go shopping.”

Agatha seemed to consider this for a moment before murmuring, “We can take care of that soon.”

You frowned slightly, but before you could question her, she changed the subject.

“You’re going to burn in this sun,” she said simply. Then, she lifted her head, reached for the bottle with a sun drawn on it, and gestured to the lounge chair she had been lying on. “Come. Lie down here.”

Your stomach twisted at the thought of her hands gliding over your skin. Agatha’s sharp, disciplined gaze always made you feel small and exposed. Lying there, with her touching you, felt dangerous in a way you couldn’t quite name.

Still, you obeyed, swallowing hard as you felt the chair shift slightly under her weight when she leaned over to reach you. Her fingers pressed gently into your shoulder as she spread the sunscreen. Her touch was firm, meticulous—like she was tending to something precious.

You closed your eyes, trying to focus on the winds brought, but all you could smell was the woman's floral perfume. Shit.

It was impossible to ignore Agatha’s hands. They glided over your shoulders, her fingers working the sunscreen into your skin with a precision that sent your heart racing. A shiver ran down your spine, and you tried to hide it, but you knew she would notice. Agatha always noticed.

“Relax,” she murmured, her voice low and smooth, but carrying an authority that left no room for disobedience. “You’re so tense.”

You tried to obey, but it was difficult to relax when every touch of hers seemed to ignite something inside you. Her hands traveled down your back, her fingers pressing lightly into tense muscles, and you felt a whimper catch in your throat.

“Agatha,” you murmured, your voice trembling, but she didn’t respond. Instead, her hands continued moving, now spreading sunscreen across your back, her fingers tracing down your spine with a slowness that was almost torturous.

Heat rushed to your face, but it wasn’t from the sun. It was something deeper, more intense—something you couldn’t name. Her hands drifted down to the waistband of your bikini, her fingers just barely grazing the exposed skin, and a tremor coursed through you.

“You’re shaking,” Agatha observed, her voice still soft but tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “Are you feeling all right?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words died in your throat as her hands slid back up, this time down your arms, her fingers pressing lightly against your skin. Another shiver wracked through you, and you tried to suppress it, but you knew she would notice.

Agatha always noticed.

“Are you always this sensitive?” she murmured, her fingers now brushing against your neck, the touch featherlight but filled with intention. “It’s adorable.”

Heat flooded your face, but it wasn’t from the sun. It was something deeper, more intense—something you couldn’t name. Her hands drifted down to the waistband of your bikini again, fingers barely skimming over the skin, and another tremor coursed through you.

“Agatha…” you murmured again, your voice barely above a whisper, but she didn’t respond. Instead, her hands kept moving, now smoothing sunscreen over your legs, her fingers trailing over your skin with an unbearable slowness.

Your breath hitched as her fingers stilled at the curve of your hip, so close to the crease of your thigh that you could feel their heat through the thin fabric of your bikini.

Agatha leaned in, her hair shining by the sun leaving her brown hair almost golden and that secluded the two of you from the rest of the world. Her ice-blue eyes—so light they were almost translucent—locked onto yours, pupils blown wide like a predator fixating on its prey. You swallowed thickly.

She knew. She knew exactly how you felt.

“So pretty like this…” she whispered, her voice a rasp of velvet as her thumb ghosted over the waistband of your bikini. Not touching—just teasing. “Your skin flushes so easily. It’s like you’re begging to be seen.”

Your heart pounded in your ears, blood roaring in your veins. You tried to look away, but she caught your chin between her fingers, forcing you to meet her gaze.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” she ordered, soft yet lethal.

Obedience came automatically. Your eyes met again, and in them, you saw a reflection of yourself—disheveled, blushing, exposed. Agatha smirked, as if reading every chaotic thought spinning in your mind.

Her thumb finally breached the edge of fabric, barely brushing the untouched skin below your navel. Your body arched involuntarily, a strangled sound escaping your lips.

Your lungs tightened. Your fingers dug into the lounge chair, seeking an anchor, but everything smelled like her—jasmine, power, and danger. Agatha leaned in further, her lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

“Do you really think you’re hiding it well?”

“I don’t—” You tried, but your voice failed when her fingers pressed again, drawing slow, hypnotic circles that made you tremble.

And then she stopped.

She stopped and pulled away just enough to keep her hands off you.

“All done.” She said it as if she had done nothing at all. “You can go for a swim.”

“Ladies, I’m back!” Rio’s voice broke through the thick air as she returned with a tray of fruit and cold cuts. “This should hold us over until lunch.”

You tore your gaze away from the women for a moment, focusing on steadying your breath, calming your racing mind. You rubbed a palm against your cheek, as if it would wipe away the heat still burning there.

Turning back to them, you offered a small, fleeting smile. “Thanks.” You picked up a slice of watermelon before slipping into the pool. The cool water was a blessed relief against the scorching heat.

Rio didn’t take long to join you, splashing playfully before swimming around you, always maintaining some kind of contact—a light brush of fingers against your arm, a teasing touch at your waist as she laughed at something silly you said. It was easy, effortless, and you couldn’t deny how comfortable you felt around her.

From the other side, Agatha remained on the lounge chair, watching through her sunglasses, her expression unreadable. She looked as composed as ever, but you knew her well enough to catch the subtle way her fingers drummed against the armrest—a small tell, something she would never admit.

“Do you never get in the pool?” you asked Agatha, tilting your head, eyes bright with curiosity.

“I’m not a big fan of pools.”

“Liar,” Rio sang from a distance, biting into a piece of melon from the tray. “She used to swim competitively in her teens. Gold medals and everything.”

You pouted slightly before looking at Agatha.

Your heart sped up at the thought forming in your mind—a sudden impulse to push at her limits, to test the unshakable, untouchable woman. Taking a deep breath, you swam closer to the edge nearest her and tilted your face up, eyes pleading, laced with saccharine sweetness.

“Come in the water with us.” Your tone was honeyed, almost childlike, but with just enough intention to soften her. “Please.”

“I’m fine here.” She didn’t even move, her voice rigid.

“Oh, come on…” You insisted, making a point to blink your eyes bigger, shinier. “Just for a little bit?”

She narrowed her eyes behind her sunglasses. You could feel the silent battle inside her—her natural resistance to anything frivolous against the impossibility of denying you when you looked at her like that.

A pause. A nearly imperceptible sigh slipped past her lips.

Then, with a fluid motion, she took off her sunglasses and placed them on the side table. Her blue eyes were like ice under the sun—cold, but with a glint of something you swore was curiosity.

“You are insufferably persistent,” she murmured, rising with the grace of a queen.

Rio let out a low whistle as Agatha slipped out of her dress, revealing the swimsuit—cut with such precision that it left little to the imagination. "Always stunning, love," she commented, tossing a grape in her direction.

Agatha ignored her, descending into the water with practiced composure, as if every step needed to be perfect, as if her dignity was tied to not showing hesitation. The cold water met her skin gradually—first her ankles, then her thighs, until it reached her waist. Not even the humidity dared to unravel the immaculate bun holding her hair in place.

She stopped there. Came no closer.

"Happy?" Her arched brow carried impatience, but her eyes… her eyes said something different.

Your heart pounded, and the simple realization that Agatha Harkness—cold, proud, unbreakable—had yielded to you was a kind of intoxicating power.

You grinned from ear to ear, warmth flooding your body in a way that had nothing to do with the sun.

"Very!" You said, maybe a little too brightly, but you didn’t care.

Agatha looked away, moving slowly through the water, as if she could pretend none of it mattered. But you knew the truth.

[...]

Monday arrived, dragging with it the relentless rhythm of the film set. Cameras rolled, technicians hauled equipment, and actors rehearsed their lines in hushed tones, as if speaking too loudly might awaken the slumbering beast that ruled over everything.

Agatha.

She stood at the center of the chaos, dressed in a pristine white linen suit that seemed to defy stains and wrinkles alike. Thin, gold-rimmed reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose as she flipped through the script with one hand and gestured with the other, directing lighting adjustments with military precision.

"More to the left. No, your left, Kevin. Christ."

Her voice was like a razor blade—sharp, clean, and leaving a cut that hurt so damn good.

You tried to focus on the notes scribbled in your own script, but it was impossible. Your eyes were magnets to her every movement—the way she adjusted the pendant at her neck when she was impatient, the red flush of her chest when something was done wrong, the curve of her lips when a take was perfect, the click of her heels against the concrete floor as she marched off to scrutinize a detail that seemed insignificant to you.

Focus. You bit your pen, trying to decipher an illegible note from the art director.

But then she laughed—a rare, husky sound—at a joke from one of the cameramen, and your stomach flipped.

Shit.

When you looked up, it was already too late.

Agatha was looking straight at you.

Her glasses had slid down to the tip of her nose, and those blue eyes—cold, calculating—burned through the distance between you as if she were reading every forbidden thought crossing your mind. You swallowed hard, cheeks burning, and dropped your gaze to the script, feigning sudden interest in Scene 27.

Click. Click. Click.

The heels drew closer. You smelled her before you saw her—jasmine and power.

"Trouble with the notes?" She leaned over your desk, one hand pressing against the paper, her fingers so close to yours that you could see the subtle sheen of her nude polish.

"I… no. Just trying to decipher Marcus’s handwriting," you laughed nervously, showing her the messy scrawl.

Agatha removed her glasses, hooking them onto the neckline of her suit. "Let me see."

She leaned in further, her wrist brushing against yours as she took the script. Your heart pounded. She knew. She knew you were watching. She knew every casual touch was a match thrown into gasoline.

"Ah, this." She pointed at the note. "Warm colors in the protagonist’s room. Marcus has always been dramatic." Her finger slid across the page, stopping near your hand. "But you already knew that, didn’t you?"

The air left your lungs.

Was she talking about the script? Your stare? The way your knees trembled under the table?

That enigmatic smile never left her lips as she pulled away.

The set was silent, steeped in the thick atmosphere of the scene. The setting was simple but heavy with meaning—fog-covered streets, shadows stretching across buildings, the crushing sense of loneliness engulfing Wanda as she wandered aimlessly.

It was a pivotal moment. Her character, shattered by grief and doubt, desperately searched for her children, only to be confronted with the cruel reality that, to everyone else, they had never existed.

The anguish in her eyes was palpable. The way she searched each passing face, her voice teetering between pleading and rage, sent chills down your spine. It was exactly as you had envisioned when writing that scene—maybe even better.

From the corner of the set, Agatha watched with a critical gaze, her expression unreadable. Every detail had to be perfect, and her rigid posture made it clear she would accept nothing less.

"Cut!" Agatha’s voice cracked through the air like a gunshot, slicing through the tension. The silence that followed was razor-sharp.

"Wanda, your breathing is too controlled. She’s desperate. I want to hear the air catching in her throat. Like she’s about to choke on her own grief. Understood?"

Wanda nodded, her eyes red from crying between takes. You saw her fingers trembling as she clutched the fake wooden staff. The background music—sharp, discordant violins—resumed, winding tighter around the moment.

The air smelled of chalk dust marking positions on the floor, stale coffee from the thermoses, and a hint of Agatha’s perfume—jasmine and amber, dominating as always. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the scent only made the pressure in your chest worse.

You stood beside Yelena, watching the scene unfold. Your fingers grazed the page of the script where your words were printed:

SAGE: You will not find what you seek outside. The abyss you flee from is the same one you carry within.

The ink seemed to pulse under your touch.

The bitter taste of coffee and sour nerves coated your tongue as Wanda started the scene again. She stumbled through the set, eyes unfocused, fingers clutching at the fabric of her peasant dress.

"Where are my children?" Her voice broke in the middle, a ragged sob that made even the camera operator flinch. "Please…"

The sage stepped forward—an elderly actor with eyes painted to look blind. His bony hands reached out for Wanda.

"You run in circles, child," he murmured, his voice fragile as paper. "But the answers are not in the world. They are here."

His hand pressed against her chest, and Wanda recoiled as if burned.

"No…" Wanda’s whisper was barely audible but carried a weight that sent shivers down your spine. "They are alive. I feel them."

Agatha didn’t breathe. No one did.

Your nails dug into your palms, leaving crescent-shaped marks on your skin. This was your script. Your twist. And Wanda was making it… sacred.

Cold sweat slid down your back, mixing with the scent of burning wood from the artificial fire effects. Agatha leaned forward, her fingers white from gripping the armrest of her chair.

The sage lifted a trembling hand.

"Know thyself, witch. Or despair will consume you."

The woman frowned, irritated. "I am not that."

The words left Wanda’s lips like a dull blade, thick with denial and fear. Her whole body seemed to shrink at the very idea, as if the mere insinuation was a burden too heavy to bear.

The sage didn’t move. His clouded eyes remained fixed on her, empty and yet full of cruel wisdom.

"Then why does the earth tremble beneath your feet?"

"I am not this." She repeated once more, but now her voice trembled. As if the certainty that had once sustained her was crumbling.

Agatha leaned even further into her chair. Her blue eyes burned over the set, absorbing every micro-expression, every tremor in Wanda’s hands. The tense jaw. The rigid posture. The refusal to look directly at the sage.

Wanda was at her limit.

And that was exactly what Agatha wanted.

"Your children are dead." The sage’s voice was barely a whisper. But it was like thunder tearing through the sky.

The impact was instant. Wanda lunged forward, her eyes blazing with pure fury and pain, the veins in her arms standing out as she gripped the old man’s tunic tightly. "LIE!"

The word echoed across the set.

The silence that followed was so heavy it seemed to suck the oxygen from the air.

Something crackled. Faint. Low. But audible.

The flames of the fake bonfires grew.

Agatha stood, the shadow of a smile playing on her lips.

The power was there. Hidden. Suffocated. But present.

And Wanda?

Wanda was still fighting.

Her hand trembled as she let go of the sage, her chest rising and falling in quick gasps.

But when she looked at him, something had changed.

"Cut!" Agatha's voice sliced through the silence like a whip, and the spell was broken.

The crew finally exhaled. The cameraman wiped the sweat from his forehead. Some whispered among themselves, in awe.

Wanda was still there, at the center of it all. Chest rising and falling. Eyes unfocused, as if still lost in the scene.

You couldn’t help it.

You smiled.

This was it.

This was magic.

Agatha, with her imposing posture and piercing gaze, gave one last command before stepping away. "Great work, everyone! Let’s wrap for lunch." Her voice echoed with authority, and people started dispersing, relieved for a moment of rest. The set slowly emptied, filled with the murmurs of conversations and the clatter of equipment being put away.

You took a deep breath, still feeling the impact of the scene. Wanda had delivered a brilliant performance, and seeing your writing come to life like that was indescribable.

"Turns out, you are something."

Her voice came suddenly, slow and slightly amused. When you turned, you found Wanda with her arms crossed, a mischievous smile on her face.

"Was that a compliment?" you teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe." She shrugged. "I don’t impress easily. But you made the magic happen. Turned it into something real. So, yeah, you’re something, magic girl."

Warmth spread through your chest at the admission, but before you could respond, Wanda was already walking away to get lunch.

You let out a small laugh and made your way to catering, grabbing a plate and sitting in a relatively quiet corner.

The smell of fresh food filled the air, and the chatter around you created a comfortable background noise. You ate absentmindedly, but you couldn’t shake the persistent feeling of being watched.

Instinctively, you lifted your gaze.

Agatha.

On the other side of the space, she sat with her legs crossed, lazily poking at her Caesar salad, but her eyes were locked on you.

Your stomach flipped. It wasn’t an easy expression to read—she didn’t look angry, nor exactly satisfied. She was just… watching.

You tried to ignore it, to focus on your food, but your body was all too aware of her presence.

Then, you felt the vibration in your jeans pocket.

You discreetly pulled out your phone, careful not to draw attention. A new message.

Agatha.

My trailer. Be discreet.

Your heart skipped a beat.

The simple words carried an immense weight. What did she want? Had you done something wrong? Your mind started racing, retracing every detail of the day, every word, every gesture. But there was no time to hesitate.

You took a deep breath, trying to appear calm, and started walking toward Agatha’s trailer.

Your heart pounded against your chest as you crossed the set, each step toward her trailer feeling heavier than the last. You didn’t know what to expect. The tone of the message didn’t indicate urgency or anger, but it also offered no clues about what was coming.

You swallowed hard, hesitated for a second in front of the door, but before you could raise your hand to knock, it opened.

Agatha.

Her eyes swept over you from head to toe, a flicker of satisfaction gleaming in her expression before she stepped aside just enough to let you in.

You hesitated at the threshold, feeling the trailer’s warm, enclosed air mix with the electric tension.

The door clicked shut behind you.

"You called me." Your voice came out smaller than you’d intended, an involuntary hesitance pressing you against the wall as if some instinct warned you that stepping back was the safest choice.

Agatha smirked, crossing her arms just below her chest, the motion emphasizing her generous curves. Your gaze flickered there for a split second before you could stop yourself, but you looked away too fast—too obvious.

And Agatha always noticed.

"You did well today," she said casually, not looking up. "You transformed the character, gave her life. A purpose to justify her means."

The praise hit like an arrow straight to your chest. Your breath faltered, the impact coming from a place you didn’t entirely understand.

"Thank you." The murmur slipped from your lips before you could control it.

Only then did she lift her gaze, and something inside you recoiled.

Her eyes were intense, gleaming in the dim light, pupils sharp like a predator scenting its prey’s nervousness. And Agatha liked that.

She took a step forward. Then another.

Her bare feet glided over the soft rug, silent without the imposing sound of her Louboutins. Still, every movement felt calculated, a dangerous dance where only she knew the steps.

"You wrote about a desperate mother." Her voice was a whisper wrapped in velvet, laced with humor. "A woman discovering powers that could destroy entire nations."

Another step.

Your back nearly fused with the cold metal of the trailer door. The temperature contrast sent heat crawling up your neck, your ears, the center of your chest.

Her hand lifted, pressing flat against the door beside your head.

You held your breath.

Her other hand reached for a strand of your hair, long fingers curling lazily around it. The touch was slow, indulgent, almost affectionate—but you knew there was nothing innocent about it.

Then, she pulled.

A subtle but precise motion, just enough to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet the sharp gaze burning against your skin.

Your eyes locked.

She was too close.

"Do you always write about the things you want?"

The whisper was warm against your lips, a breath of temptation that made your stomach twist and your breath stutter.

Your eyes dropped.

The small, plump, inviting curve of her lips. So close you could almost feel them, almost taste them, your mind already conjuring the flavor.

Your legs felt like jelly, and you were sure the only reason you hadn’t collapsed was the door supporting your weight.

"What—"

"The need to have someone take care of you—is it really that strong?"

Her tone was a mix of curiosity and something deeper—something indecipherable, lurking in the shadows of her slow, honeyed voice.

The hand that had been playing with your hair slid down, tracing a lazy path along your side until it found your waist.

Cold fingers slipped beneath the hem of your white tank top, touching your warm skin in a contrast that stole your breath.

"A mother."

The word hovered in the air between you, but its weight went far beyond what was heard.

It wasn’t just a provocation.

It wasn’t just a game.

There was something in the way she said it—as if the word meant as much to her as it did to you. As if she was also touching on something she shouldn’t. Something deep. Something painful for her too.

"Is that what you're looking for?"

Her fingers tightened around your waist. And you whimpered, already feeling soaked for her down there.

Pathetic.

Agatha closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath as if trying to restrain herself. But when she looked at you again, it was already too late.

Her mouth crashed against yours.

The kiss wasn’t a question. It was domination.

Her lips molded to yours with raw, hungry demand, without hesitation. It was hot, desperate, an invasion that dissolved any sense of identity that wasn’t her. Agatha took. Demanded. And you, pathetic and surrendered, opened up to her as if there was no other choice but submission.

The wet sound of your mouths meeting echoed through the confined space of the trailer, each ragged breath turning into a drawn-out sigh, heavy with desire. Her tongue slid against yours, slow and indulgent at first, only to deepen the kiss the next second with a hunger that almost hurt.

You moaned into her mouth, and Agatha smiled into the kiss—a rough, wicked sound that made something inside you melt. Her fingers dug harder into your waist, pulling you closer, deeper.

Her other hand remained firm at the nape of your neck, fingers pressing lightly into your scalp as she tilted your head just the way she wanted. She dictated the rhythm.

Slow. Then fast.

Bite. Lick.

She explored you as if marking territory. As if she wanted to imprint her taste on you until you could never forget.

The air grew heavy, breaths mixing, the scent of her skin, the woody perfume that always seemed to cling to her, becoming an invisible cage around you.

Agatha pulled back just enough to catch your lower lip between her teeth, dragging slowly, savoring, testing your patience, your obedience.

"You need to be taken care of that badly, don’t you?"

The whisper came against your skin, and you shivered.

She bit your collarbone.

You gasped.

And that’s when you felt it.

Her leg slotting between yours, the perfect pressure, a silent promise of what was to come.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your head falling back against the door, chest rising and falling in desperation.

Agatha smiled against your skin.

"I can give you that," she whispered. "I can give you everything."

Her hand slid under your tank top, cold fingers tracing a slow path over your stomach.

Your body trembled.

"Say it," she murmured against your ear, lips brushing your skin in a way that made your whole body vibrate.

Your hands shook at her sides, fingers curling into the fabric of her blouse, seeking something to hold onto, anything to keep you from simply melting right there.

She pressed her hips into you, a reminder of her strength, of the absolute power she had over you in that moment.

"Say it," she repeated, this time her voice carrying a hint of impatience.

You couldn’t look at her. You couldn’t form words.

Agatha didn’t like that.

Her hand slid lower, fingers pressing exactly where you needed them most—and you moaned. Soft. Almost inaudible. But enough to make her smile.

"Oh. Honey…" she whispered, amused. "You can’t hide this from me anymore."

She pressed you harder against the door, her body practically covering yours, those piercing blue eyes slicing into you like sharp blades.

"Say it," she demanded, her voice raspier now, laced with something much darker.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mouth opening and closing, unable to form a coherent response.

She slid her hand over your hip, fingers curving slightly, tracing slow, torturous circles against your skin.

"Say it."

Her breath burned against your mouth, every syllable sinking into you like a sweet, cruel thorn.

Your body arched against hers, your head falling back, lightly hitting the trailer door. You felt everything, absolutely everything—and it was suffocating, addicting.

Her eyes never left yours, merciless, demanding.

"Say it," Agatha ordered once more, her patience wearing thin.

Pleasure and humiliation burned across your skin in equal measure. Your heart pounded against your ribs, your body pulsing under her hand, your mind a blur of desire and desperation.

The word echoed in your mind, urging you to accept something dark, enticing you…

And then, finally, you gave in.

Your voice came out small, fragile, carrying everything you had never been able to admit before.

"M-Mommy…"

Agatha closed her eyes for a second, drinking in the word as if it were forbidden nectar. A low moan slipped from her lips, and when she looked at you again, her eyes were darker, hungrier.

"Good girl," she murmured.

And then, she took you for herself.

Her fingers, once firm on your waist, slipped below the button of your jeans, knuckles brushing the sensitive, shaved skin of your mound. You gasped, your hips twitching involuntarily, but she held you with a grip strong enough to leave marks.

"Quiet," she ordered, her voice a hot whisper against your neck. "We don’t want anyone to hear, do we?"

Her knee pressed deeper between your legs, the raw pressure making your muscles tremble. You tried to swallow, but your throat was dry, words trapped in a knot of shame and need. Agatha smiled, lips curving into an arc of triumph as her hand finally dipped lower, fingers finding the wet heat beneath the thin fabric.

"God—," she murmured, closing her eyes for a moment as if savoring the physical proof of her power over you. "You’re so wet, sweetheart. All that young pride… and deep down, this is all you are."

Her middle finger slid slowly through your entrance, collecting your slick before tracing torturous circles over your swollen clit. You bit your lip, wide eyes locked onto hers as if she were the only anchor in a sea of violent waves.

"Look at me," she commanded, and you obeyed, trapped by the glacial intensity of her blue gaze. "Who do you belong to?"

The question was a knife. You shook your head, denying, but your body betrayed you, hips moving in sync with her fingers.

Agatha laughed, low and rough. "Hmm. Your body speaks the truth your mouth won’t admit."

She pushed two fingers inside you—without warning, without mercy. You cried out, nails digging into her back, but she didn’t stop. Her pace was relentless, each movement deep and precise, as if she knew every inch of you better than you knew yourself.

"Is this what you want?" she whispered, lips against your ear. "To be reduced to this? To a little toy I make whimper?"

You tried to deny it, but all that came out was a long, strangled moan when she curled her fingers, hitting that spot. Your body arched, muscles clenching around her, but Agatha didn’t let you fall.

"That’s it," she whispered, lips pressed against your ear. "You’re so dumb for me, aren’t you? So desperate for a touch, for a word, for anything I’m willing to give you."

Her fingers were relentless, tracing precise circles that made your body tremble. You tried to hold on, tried to maintain some control, but it was impossible. Agatha commanded every movement, every moan, every sigh that escaped your lips.

“This is good,” Agatha smiled, a grin both sweet and deadly. “Because I have plans for you, darling. And you’ll love every second.”

“Mommy,” you whimpered again, your voice broken, barely a whisper.

“Louder,” Agatha ordered, her fingers quickening their pace. “I want to hear you say it.”

“M-Mommy,” you repeated, stronger this time, tears burning at the corners of your eyes.

Agatha growled, abruptly withdrawing her fingers. You moaned in protest, legs shaking, but Agatha gripped your chin, forcing your gaze upward.

Her hand, slick with your arousal, rose to your mouth, fingers pressing against your lips. “Lick,” she commanded. “Lick it clean. Every last drop.”

You hesitated, shame burning your cheeks, but the fire in Agatha’s eyes left no room for disobedience. Your tongue darted out, trembling, licking Agatha’s fingers with humiliating devotion. The taste was salty, yours. Agatha watched every movement, her breath ragged, observing as you devoured yourself.

“Rio told me everything,” Agatha pressed your pussy harder against her thigh, forcing another whimper. “Every detail.” She growled against your lips, staring with hunger and devotion.

Agatha brushed her lips against yours—not quite a kiss, but a ghostly touch, a warning, a promise. Your body was trapped between the rigid door and the firmness of Agatha’s thigh, every inch of the woman’s presence burning against your skin.

“She told me how you moaned my name in her lap,” Agatha’s voice was a thread of silk soaked in desire and disapproval. “How you begged without even realizing what you were saying.”

Her fingers rubbed your pink, throbbing bud, her palm positioned perfectly to grind back and forth. You closed your eyes, the memory of what Rio had done to your surging like an electric shock—and with it, raw, searing guilt.

“You want me as much as you want her,” Agatha murmured, her teeth grazing your lower lip before tugging it slowly, almost cruelly.

Your answer was only a needy moan. Your mind screamed to deny it, to fight Agatha’s game, but you remembered those same veined, elegant hands gripping a steering wheel tightly, the same hands that had massaged you body in the pool.

You want this.

It’s impossible not to.

Agatha smiled, that devastating, superior grin radiating absolute control. Her hand slid to the curve of your neck, squeezing the pulsing point, cutting off your air.

“Mommy, harder—” Your voice was barely audible.

You gasped as Agatha’s fingers tightened around your throat—not to hurt, but to remind you who dictated the rhythm of this game.

“Good girl,” Agatha released your throat and licked the reddened skin. “Mommy’s got you.”

Agatha pushed your knee harder, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. She trailed her fingers along your jawline, as if admiring a masterpiece, then gripped your chin, forcing you to meet her gaze.

“Open your mouth,” she ordered, and you obeyed, tears spilling without permission. “Tongue out.” Agatha arched an eyebrow, daring you to refuse.

You stuck out your tongue, holding the humiliating, uncomfortable position.

“Good girl,” Agatha whispered, her voice laced with a darkness that twisted your stomach. “Now… grind. Do it. Ruin Mommy’s pants.” The command was clear, direct.

And you did.

Your movements started timid and clumsy, Agatha’s eyes gleaming with amusement at your inexperience. Agatha grabbed your ass, dictating the perfect rhythm. “Do it,” she said, her voice rough with desire. “Grind on me like the good little slut you are.”

Your jaw muscles trembled, exhausted. Saliva dripped down your tongue. If you could see your own expression now—flushed, desperate—you’d know you looked like nothing but a dumb whore for Agatha to use.

“Oh. Look at you,” Agatha reveled in your tired expression, your hips growing more desperate for praise. “Mommy’s perfect little pet.”

The whine you let out truly sounded like a wounded animal. It made Agatha smile. “You’d do anything for a scrap of my attention, wouldn’t you?” Her tone was soft, almost maternal, but her eyes glinted with cruelty. “That’s what you are, isn’t you? Mommy’s little bitch.”

You nodded without thinking. You weren’t in your right mind. Agatha made it feel like your intelligence was being fucked away, your critical thoughts replaced by images of her.

Agatha. Agatha. Agatha.

And then, deep in your mind—

Rio.

“Rio…” You murmured, a flicker of uncertainty in your voice.

Agatha snarled like a caged animal, her proud composure crumbling. The director sucked on your exhausted tongue, reclaiming every drop of saliva. It was enough to make your climax.

Your back arched against the door, your legs stiffening and trembling around Agatha. Your moan was muffled by Agatha’s mouth, which ravaged your lips and tongue—too weak now to fight for dominance. Your legs gave out, but Agatha held you.

Tears streamed uncontrollably as the intensity crashed over you. You whimpered, and Agatha pulled your into a warm, almost gentle embrace. “Shh,” she whispered into your ear. “Mommy’s got you.”

Agatha gripped your chin firmly, fingers leaving marks, as she studied every tremor rippling through you post-climax body. Her blue eyes, sharper under the trailer’s dim light, missed nothing—the tears, the ragged breaths, the fingers still clinging to her blazer like a lifeline.

“Crying doesn’t make you weak,” Agatha said, her voice softer but still commanding. “It just proves you know exactly where you belong.”

Her hand drifted to your neck, not to choke but to feel your racing pulse—a gesture of possession, not violence. As if she needed to confirm you were still there, surrendered to her.

With her other hand, she pulled a silk handkerchief from her pocket and began wiping your face. Her motions were precise, almost clinical, but the faintest tremor in her fingers betrayed her as the cloth lingered near the girl’s lips.

“Breathe,” she ordered, and you obeyed, gulping air between shaky sobs. “Slower. Control yourself.”

When finished, Agatha adjusted your clothes with determined hands—smoothing your tank top, tugging your pants back into place. Her touch was casual, but her fingers lingered too long on your hip. As if memorizing you. As if reluctant to let go.

"Good girl," she murmured, her lips curving into something that could have been a smile—if it weren’t so sharp. "So good."

Suddenly, you were already on your feet, the woman checking your state. Agatha buttoned the last button of your blouse, her fingers brushing against your exposed nape, and a shiver ran down your spine.

"Get back to work," she said, her voice returning to that commanding cadence, non-negotiable. "And remember..."

You turned your head just enough to see her in the mirror on the wall. Agatha stood there, immaculate, her tailored suit without a single wrinkle, her painted lips untouched. It seemed as if none of this had affected her—until you noticed the faint tremor in her hand as she adjusted a ring.

Almost imperceptible.

Almost.

Her fingers, usually so steady and precise, faltered for a fraction of a second as she twisted the gold band on her finger. She looked at her hand as if surprised by her own weakness, then closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.

She realized you saw it. Her eyes gleamed with something indescribable—a warning, a challenge, a secret.

"Be good for me, pet."

The word was a whip wrapped in velvet. You swallowed, nodding, and she opened the door with a fluid motion. The sunset light flooded the trailer, and the hum of the set felt like a distant world.

Before leaving, Agatha stopped at the entrance, not looking back.

"By 7 PM, have all your tasks completed. Rio will pick us up."

It wasn’t an invitation. It was an order.

And you knew that at exactly 7 PM, you would be there—on your knees, standing, or in whatever position Agatha required.

Because she wasn’t gentle.

She was perfection.

[...]

The clock read 6:32 PM.

Your fingers flew furiously over the keyboard, your eyes burning from staring at the screen for too long. Your hands trembled above the keys as you adjusted the final details of the corrected script Agatha had demanded—you still had to send it to each actor. Your legs were crossed under the chair, muscles taut with stress.

Damn it.

Your heart pounded in your chest. You should review the data before sending it, but there was no time. No time. Your finger hesitated over the “Enter” key for a fraction of a second before pressing it down too forcefully. The email shot into their inbox, and you barely had the courage to check if the message was there. But it was.

There was still the physical paperwork that needed to be left on Agatha’s desk. You stood up so fast that your chair nearly toppled over. You rushed to the printer, the papers still warm when you gathered them into a folder. Your footsteps echoed down the hallway as you slipped through the company like a ghost, dodging employees who didn’t even notice your urgency. When you reached Agatha’s office door, you paused for a second, taking a deep breath. You placed the documents neatly on her desk—perfectly aligned. No crooked margins. No mistakes.

You were free.

No, you weren’t. You had to rush to the bus stop. You couldn’t raise any suspicions. Your legs ached from the effort, but you couldn’t stop. The streets of Los Angeles were packed, but your mind could only focus on the clock.

6:56 PM.

You had to get there. You had to be there when they arrived. Panic started gnawing at your insides.

6:58 PM.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you finally reached the bus stop. The streetlight cast a pale glow over the cracked pavement. The wind cooled the sweat on your nape, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was that at 6:59 PM, the dark car slowed down and stopped in front of you. The window rolled down smoothly, revealing Agatha in the passenger seat and Rio behind the wheel. Rio’s smile was proud.

"Punctual," Agatha remarked, analyzing your flushed face from the effort. "Get in."

You obeyed without hesitation, feeling a shiver run down your spine as you closed the door behind you.

The clock struck 7 PM sharp.

Then, you breathed.

You settled into the backseat, still feeling the lingering adrenaline from the hectic day. The city blurred past the tinted windows, and the familiar scent of leather and woody perfume filled the air, bringing an odd sense of comfort.

Rio, at the wheel, was animated. The sparkle in her eyes was contagious as she spoke about the exhibition she was organizing.

"It’s going to be a spectacle! We’re recreating some of the most iconic pieces from the Modern Age but with a contemporary twist, you know? The essence remains the same, but the reinterpretation adds new layers."

"I’ll only attend if Marie Antoinette graces us with her presence," Agatha teased with a sly smirk, as if it were an inside joke you didn’t understand.

Rio chuckled softly and winked at her wife. "She’ll be there."

You huffed, trying to keep up with her enthusiasm, but something inside you felt off. With every turn, every red light, a thought throbbed in your mind.

You weren’t going home.

Turning away from the window, you bit your lip and dared to ask:

"Where are we going?"

Rio let out a low, amused chuckle, glancing at you briefly. Her eyes were full of promises, and the smile playing on her lips made your stomach twist.

"Agatha said our girl behaved very well today."

Your body reacted instantly to those words. Heat rushed to your cheeks, and a shiver ran down your spine. You didn’t need to look at the passenger seat to know Agatha was watching every tiny reaction.

Her fingers brushed over your knee—a casual touch, yet filled with intent. You tensed, feeling the goosebumps rise under her touch. With two light taps on your knee, as if she were praising you with gestures alone, she withdrew her hand.

"Let’s celebrate that, darling," Rio continued, her gaze back on the road. "After all, a good girl deserves to be rewarded."

The Angelini Osteria was discreet and luxurious. A Michelin-starred Italian restaurant. The kind of secluded place where no one would dare to interrupt you. The entrance was simple, resembling a cozy home. The host guided you to a reserved table, away from curious eyes, away from the outside world.

But nothing could take away the crushing exhaustion weighing on your body.

Your eyes barely managed to focus on the menu. Every word seemed to dissolve before making sense. It was as if your energy had been drained, leaving only a faint echo of yourself. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the haze, trying to pretend everything was normal.

Then, you felt the delicate pressure of Rio’s fingers on your wrist.

She said nothing. Just traced small circles on your skin, as if feeling your pulse, as if grounding you. You blinked, feeling your shoulders relax slightly. That was when you noticed that Agatha wasn’t even bothering to look at the menu. Her sharp blue eyes were fixed on you—calculating, unwavering.

"She’s exhausted," Agatha stated, not looking at Rio, but as if affirming an absolute fact. Her tone was dry, non-negotiable.

A slight wave of embarrassment crept up your throat, as if you had been exposed without saying a word. You tried to protest, but Agatha was already closing the menu, handing it to the waiter without hesitation.

"She’ll have the fileto di manzo with saffron risotto. And bring a fresh orange juice, no sugar," her voice left no room for objection. She knew exactly what you needed.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Rio let out a soft chuckle, leaning in to whisper against your ear. "I know you love carbs," she teased, her voice full of amusement. "But trust me, you need iron more than a plate full of pasta right now. Aggie always knows best."

You swallowed hard, shifting your gaze to the table. The waiter took the order without question, disappearing into the restaurant's dim lighting.

The silence was broken by the clinking of ice in Agatha’s glass. Her long fingers slowly twirled the wine stem, watching you as if she were assessing every reaction. As if she were studying just how far she could push you without breaking you.

When the dish arrived, Rio was the first to move. Without hesitation, she picked up the knife and fork, cutting the meat with the ease of someone who had done it countless times before. The aroma of the food invaded your senses, but you were still distant, lost between exhaustion and the way they enveloped you so effortlessly.

"Open your mouth," Rio ordered softly, holding a piece of meat between the fork's prongs.

You hesitated, but your eyes met hers—golden and patient. She waited, not with impatience, but with an unshakable certainty that you would obey. Slowly, you parted your lips. Rio guided the fork to your mouth with precision, and the rich taste of the meat filled your palate.

"Good girl," Agatha murmured, finally bringing her wine to her lips.

Rio smiled, satisfied, cutting another piece. "Now eat it all."

You chewed slowly, feeling warmth spread through your chest. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced. The control didn’t come from rigidity or coldness. It was encompassing, careful, almost indulgent.

And it was impossible not to yield.

Dinner carried on at a steady pace, and as the food filled your stomach, the crushing exhaustion began to dissipate. The restaurant’s warm ambiance, the scent of fresh herbs, and the rich flavors of a meticulously prepared meal slowly brought some color back to your cheeks.

When the last bite of meat was placed in your mouth by Rio, and you chewed with a satisfied sigh, you realized something almost unfamiliar—you felt whole. Satisfied in a way that went beyond the physical. As if, for a moment, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

That was when the thought came—mischievous, almost innocent.

You bit your lip and glanced sideways at Agatha, hesitant but determined. "Can I... order dessert?"

The corner of her lips curled in a slow, dangerous smirk, a wicked gleam in her blue eyes as she caught onto your boldness. She tapped her fingers against the wine glass, feigning consideration. "Dessert..." Her voice was drawn out, laced with expectation, as if merely the idea of leaving you at the mercy of her decision was already a game.

Rio let out a chuckle beside you, leaning over the table to join in on your little conspiracy. "Oh, Aggie... just look at that face! Are you really going to deny our girl something sweet after such a long day?" Her tone was teasing but affectionate. The unexpected support made warmth bloom in your chest, and you smiled, emboldened enough to meet Agatha’s gaze again.

Her eyes flickered from you to Rio, then back to you, as if savoring the scene before her. She picked up the fork delicately, taking a sip of wine before finally murmuring, without breaking eye contact:

"Well, well, well... chocolate seems the most fitting."

Victory gleamed in your eyes, and Rio laughed softly, pleased. Agatha signaled for the waiter with an elegant gesture, never once looking away from you.

"One chocolate tart for our girl."

[...]

The house was quiet when you stepped inside. The only light came from strategically placed lamps, casting a cozy, intimate glow. The faint aroma of dinner still lingered in the air, blending with the floral scent of Agatha and the ever-present woody note of Rio. You barely had time to process before a soft call reached your ears.

"Darling... come here."

Rio’s voice was wrapped in sweetness, but there was a clear intent behind it. When you turned, you saw her already seated on the couch, her legs crossed with the effortless elegance of someone who commanded any space she occupied. Beside her, Agatha mirrored the action, but her gaze was sharper, analyzing every little detail of you.

You hesitated for a second before approaching, unsure where to sit. The space between them seemed obvious, but as soon as you made a move to settle there, you felt Agatha’s firm hand on your waist. In one swift motion, you were pulled onto her lap, the proximity making your heart stumble into an unsteady rhythm.

She adjusted you with ease, as if you belonged there, as if she were molding your position to her liking. Rio watched, amusement dancing in her eyes, but she didn’t interfere.

"We want to talk to you," Agatha began, her voice low against your ear. "About what this means for the three of us."

You swallowed hard, feeling her warm breath against your skin. Rio’s fingers brushed over your leg—a quiet reassurance.

"We know things have been happening fast," Rio continued, her voice as gentle as her touch. "But we want to make sure you understand and feel comfortable with... what we are."

Your heart pounded in your chest. "What you are?"

Rio’s smile widened, while Agatha let out an almost imperceptible sigh, her fingers lazily tracing circles against your waist.

"We are yours," Rio said simply. "And we want you to be ours."

The air seemed to thin for a moment. You blinked, processing the words, feeling the weight and, at the same time, the intoxicating allure of them.

"It means commitment," Agatha continued, her hand sliding up to your chin, tilting it so you were forced to meet her intense gaze. "It means trust. It means we take care of you, and you belong to us."

Your stomach twisted in nervousness—but also in excitement. It was an idea that burned deep, something you had never experienced with such clarity before. They weren’t just playing, they weren’t just seducing you. They were offering something real.

"And it also means we will set rules," Rio added, her thumb tracing a delicate path over your thigh. "Rules that are for your own good. For ours."

You felt the tension in your body, the dance between submission and defiance stirring under your skin. Agatha noticed—of course she did. Her eyes narrowed slightly before a small, knowing smile tugged at her lips.

"But first, we want to know how you feel about this."

You exhaled the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, shifting on Agatha’s lap as you tried to think clearly—but your breath hitched when she tightened her grip on your waist.

"I’m still… confused."

You swallowed hard, feeling their presence all around you, each in their own way, guiding you to where they wanted you to be. But the scariest part was realizing that you wanted to be there. Wanted to belong.

Agatha took hold of your chin between her fingers, forcing you to look at her. Her touch was warm, solid. Her other hand caressed your waist—what could have been a casual gesture, but in reality, reaffirmed the control she had over you.

"We know," Agatha murmured, her blue eyes scanning your face, analyzing every flicker of emotion. "But we don’t want there to be any doubts. You already understand what’s happening between us, don’t you?"

You hesitated, your hands clenching around the fabric of your skirt, but you nodded.

How could you deny it?

The care, the structure, the devotion they poured into you—the way each act, each command, each glance filled something inside you that you hadn’t even realized was empty.

Rio smirked, sliding her fingers down your arm in a reassuring gesture. “We don’t want you to feel lost, kitten. But we’re not going to pretend that what we have is ordinary either.”

Your heart pounded against your chest. You knew it wasn’t. No relationship you’d had before even came close to what you felt now. With them, there was room to breathe, but also to be shaped. To be cared for, but also guided.

Agatha leaned in, her lips grazing your temple, her warm breath against your skin. “You need this, don’t you?” The question was spoken in a low, intimate tone, yet it was non-negotiable. As if she already knew the answer.

You bit your lip, feeling heat rise to your face. “I... yes.”

Her smile was small, satisfied. Rio tilted her head, watching you closely. “That means that from now on, when we tell you to do something, you trust us to know what’s best for you.”

The hesitation still existed, but it was a weak spark against the growing certainty inside you. You looked from Agatha to Rio, and understanding settled over you like a warm blanket.

You didn’t have to carry everything alone.

They were here.

“Yes,” you whispered, the response coming out more certain than you expected.

Agatha exhaled softly, as if she had been holding that breath forever. “Good girl.”

Rio smiled more openly and, without rush, ran her fingers through your hair, a touch so tender it made you melt a little more. “You’re so smart.”

They didn’t need to say anything else. The rules were set, and you accepted them. Not because you had to, but because you wanted to. Because within this dynamic, in this safe space between them, you could be exactly what you had always needed to be.

You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to sink further into their embrace. Agatha’s hold around you was comforting, and the yawn that escaped your lips was involuntary.

“Hmmm… looks like our little girl is sleepy,” Rio sang as she twirled strands of your hair around her fingers.

You pulled away from the hug and stood up, rubbing your eyes.

“Good night,” you murmured, intending to head upstairs.

Agatha arched an eyebrow. “And exactly where do you think you’re going?”

You blinked, confused. “To my room?”

Agatha let out a slow, drawn-out chuckle and stood up, her bare feet moving casually across the floor. “No, darling. You’re not.”

Rio tilted her head, as if disappointed, though there was already a glimmer of decision in her eyes. “After everything? After everything we talked about?” Her whining tone was a stark contrast to her usual strong, dominant posture.

You blinked again, confused. “What— I don’t understand.”

“You sleep with us,” Agatha said. Just like that. She took your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours, guiding you to the bedroom as if it had always been this way. As if the idea of you sleeping alone was so absurd it wasn’t even worth discussing.

And before you realized it, you were between soft sheets, nestled between the two of them.

Rio’s scent was something fresh and slightly woody, an enveloping comfort. Agatha, on the other hand, smelled of vanilla and something warm, a presence that slid over your skin like a secret. You felt her fingers trace along your waist, slipping beneath the thin fabric of your pajamas.

“Relax.” The whisper came against your ear.

You stared at Rio, her chocolate-brown eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite define. She smiled, tracing lazy patterns along your arm.

Safe. Protected. You curled up slightly, feeling your heart slow with the fullness and tranquility settling inside you.

The warmth of the two women surrounded you, their bodies so close that every movement felt like a response to your breathing.

You let out a small sigh and closed your eyes, feeling their minty breath all around you. Their arms formed a cocoon around you—warm, comforting... inevitable.

“You did so well today,” Agatha murmured, her voice low and certain, as if she knew exactly what effect she had on you.

“We’re so proud,” Rio added, a smile evident in her tone.

Their pride should have been trivial, but it made something inside you expand, a satisfaction that mixed with your exhaustion.

Agatha’s soft hands traced slowly down your back. “Good girl.”

You sighed, so relaxed that your muscles had already begun to surrender. Your eyes closed on their own, slowly—you tried to fight it. You didn’t want to sleep. But the last thing you heard before sleep claimed you was Rio’s soft whisper:

“You belong here.”

The words were breathed against your hair, her lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Where you were meant to be.

[...]

The night was a living entity, suffocating, the air so thick that each breath carried the weight of a forbidden secret. You floated between sleep and a fevered haze, your skin clinging to the sheets as if the room itself was devouring you. The scents seeped into your pores, intoxicating. There was no escape.

The first sign came as a scratch against the surface of your consciousness: a hoarse moan, muffled by pillows, followed by the wet sound of flesh against flesh. Your body recognized it before your mind did—Agatha, behind you, her hips arching in a hypnotic rhythm, pressing against your ass with a force that made it clear this wasn’t an accident. Rio, in front of you, thighs spread, grinding against your knee with an urgency that made the fabric of your pajama pants stick to your skin, already soaked.

You tried to swallow, but your throat was dry. Their heat was different—

Agatha, a volcano covered in snow, controlled and deadly; Rio, a wildfire, consuming everything without permission. Their bodies molded against yours as if they knew every curve, every weakness. Agatha’s hand slid over your waist, fingers digging into your flesh possessively, while Rio clutched your knee between her legs, increasing her pace.

“Fuck…” Rio groaned, her voice a muffled thunder, and you felt the shock of the word travel down to your core like a blade. Your muscles clenched involuntarily, a moan catching in your throat. She didn’t stop—each roll of her hips, each slick friction against your leg, was its own form of torture. You could feel her arousal, the viscous heat dripping onto your thigh, and the wetness between your own legs became unbearable.

Agatha leaned in, her lips pressing to your nape in a kiss that was more teeth than tenderness. “You’re wet,” she rasped, her sleep-heavy voice a whisper, not a question but a statement. Her hand slid lower, slow and deliberate, until she reached the hem of your panties, her fingers teasing the elastic. “Want to help or just watch?”

The question didn’t need an answer.

Rio let out a low chuckle, a rough sound that made your clit throb. “She wants both,” she answered for you, her fingers tangling in your hair and pulling your head back, exposing your neck. “Don’t you, babygirl?”

You couldn’t speak. Not when Agatha finally slid two fingers under the fabric, finding your swollen clit with surgical precision. Not when Rio nipped at your lip, stealing a moan that escaped louder than you intended.

The room spun, whispers in a strange language now echoing like a mantra, and you realized—they were theirs. Rio was humming something between clenched teeth, an ancient melody that sent chills down your spine, while Agatha responded in guttural murmurs, each syllable synchronized with the pressure of her fingers.

It was a ritual.

You were the offering.

Agatha’s rhythm intensified, her fingers circling your clit with a pressure that bordered on pain, while Rio guided your hand between her legs. “Touch me,” she commanded, and the heat there was pulsing, alive. You obeyed, fingers sliding through her swollen folds, and Rio arched like a wounded animal, a moan escaping her throat.

“Good girl,” Agatha whispered, her voice sweet venom. “Now feel.”

And you did.

When the orgasm hit her, it was like being stabbed from the inside out—a wave of fire tearing through her body, leaving her breathless, thoughtless, with nothing but the muffled cry against the sheets and their hands holding her steady, owning her, as she trembled. Rio followed moments later, the muscles in her thighs contracting violently around your hand, your fingers buried in Agatha's hair like anchors.

There was no gentleness in the end—only silence, broken by ragged breaths, and Agatha’s tongue wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized you'd shed.

"This is how we belong," Rio murmured, her mouth still pressed against your skin.

And then, you drifts back into sleep, wondering if it had all been nothing but a cruel, burning dream.

~*~

I just saw this picture of Kathryn and I couldn't contain myself 😩

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sukunasun · 1 year ago

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may i pls get some alpha sukuna… he’s so nasty (affectionate)

sukuna's every bit the perfect alpha on paper. ask the potential omegas lining up to fix a nest in his home and watch them salivate for a knot so large and a bond so deep. an alpha they'll present and prostrate for. there are rumours about the sheer weight and size of his cock, the heady pheromones, not to mention his week-long ruts. call it an impossible excursion—a breeding fuckfest with only one thing in mind. to be used and bred full of his pups. a litter or two or more. fucking without care—brutal, relentless, and insatiable.

but forget that his reputation precedes him. sukuna's true value as an alpha stands solely on his capability to hunt and chase, to capture a coveted mate he keeps...or lack thereof.

contrary to the rules of ritual, courting is by far the least of sukuna's priorities. turning his nose up at romance and the like when he's had potential mates eating out the palm of his hand since the beginning. there's no need to make a song and dance about it when he'd have his pick and fill of omegas without needing to try. much less convince them of his oh so superior traits.

he's attractive, you'll give him that. most alphas are. but there's something extra special about a tall man with tattoos and a mean side. such callousness. oozing masculinity and hot-blooded need. like an impending storm. too intense, too forthcoming, and way more than you're prepared for. after all, an unmated alpha is an available alpha and you're not one to compete.

'she's so inadequate for a mate. he'll reject her soon.' they say. any time now and some other needy thing might just swoop in to take her place. someone who's deserving of it.

what a waste, you've gotten the attention of the most powerful alpha you've ever met and want nothing to do with it—a self-righteous omega who believes alphas should know better. why give in to such baser instincts, how primitive, how primal. moreso in this day and age when suppressants are readily available and cycles can be tracked to a T.

which is why you don't look back when his gaze lingers a bit too long. adding distance when he not-so-subtly attempts to leave his scent on you. going as far as to turn him down the first time he cages you in and offers—upfront and blatantly—to 'help you out' with your next heat. as if you were some charity case. "promise i won't bite," he teases you about your barren neck and inexperience, unable to hide the smirk on his face.

"i'm not interested," you scoff, leaving him there with a hard-on in his pants and no relief. he might be a prized alpha but you won't entertain the idea of proving yourself. stroking his ego and preening for him. you were just as valuable of a partner despite being beyond your prime years with zero experience and still unmated.

••••••••••••••••••••

the only problem is that he won't take no for an answer.

he's made his choice among the other blurred faces and dull scents. been waiting a long time for someone as irresistible as you. "do you fear me?" he asks the moment you bend over his kitchen counter. he allows himself a peek at a round ass and soft hips, also to sniff at your scent permeating the air. omega. he knows as much. you make it pretty obvious with your distaste for alphas. but the sweet-scented slick between your legs is as telling.

geez. he thinks. those suppressants of yours are next to useless if you're already dripping this much within proximity to an alpha. not just any alpha either, sukuna's well aware you're beginning to fall for him. you want him so bad and it's so unfair. he's barely even touched you. but only because he's wondering if your underwear would survive the rest of the day. 'what if she's wearing a thong and her thighs get drenched too.' he grins like a wolf at the thought.

you admit with a heavy heart, "i'm more afraid of what i'm like with you." because how does one resist his advances. sukuna pushes the envelope just enough to make your knees buckle. his domineering aura makes everyone else cower in fear under a cold gaze but watch how it turns into a dreamy one when you push his face away after a kiss gets heated. his incisors poke you slightly like a teasing taunt and you find yourself fighting the pleasure.

"it's natural," he'll justify. how your body longs so desperately to belong to this alpha. succumbing to his...ferventness. his large, heated hands roaming over your breasts hidden underneath his shirt. the collar's too wide but it gives him room to wrap his fist delicately around your neck. you bite back an excited squeal when it feels so right.

••••••••••••••••••••

there's something off about him when sukuna returns home late that night. an unfamiliar scent lingers on his clothing and your stomach twist with a possessive feeling. the same one that eats you alive to the point of guilt. you smell it the moment he walks through the door of your bedroom.

nothing like yours, it's not sharp enough to be daunting nor is it reminiscent of an alpha's scent. but it's potent. almost as if they were doing it on purpose. releasing their pheromones so he'd pick up on it, or worse, that you'd notice.

you try not to jump to any conclusions and you don't want to be jealous, but it's hard having your boyfriend come home with the smell of another omega on him.

you straddle him against the headboard with a hardened look on your face. involuntarily snarling as you peel his suit jacket off. shirt buttons coming apart under your rushed hands.

he grins at your ferocious display. reminds him of an angry kitten. he grinds his hips upwards, keeping you in place with steady hands. bouncing you on top of his clothed cock wasn't in the plans tonight, he thought he'd shower off the stench. it's not like it was strong enough to affect him.

but he tries to get you off instead, while he tries to get himself some self-control. "feel good?" he dares to question when you're practically losing your mind, a sudden spike of lust spurs in your belly, incited with just that little bit of friction. hoping feverishly that the scent of fresh arousal will be overridden by heat and breathy gasps through gritted teeth.

you're hardly in a headspace to reply but an eager nod shall suffice. "didn't think you'd be the jealous type," you feel him nipping at your ear, trailing sloppy kisses down your neck, the slight graze of teeth against freshly washed and oiled skin,

"i'm not jealous—" you lie. holding back a moan when he rocks a little faster, writhing atop him in pleasure. your nipples have risen taut against your nightgown and it makes an incredibly lewd sight. sitting in his lap so compliantly.

“i'd want them to watch us,” he whispers and you'd never do such a thing but the idea turns you on. he tells you that back in ancient times they used to partake in mating rituals and bonding ceremonies. privacy was more a privilege then and so was having an audience. that other omegas and betas would know of their place. how insignificant they are, if only they could watch you now, pussy fluttering and juices leaking all over their prized alpha.

••••••••••••••••••••

sukuna watches your face as you come undone for the fourth time. shushes your sobbing cries with a gentle hand caressing your back. "you don't have to worry," he's too busy holding himself back to find another.

says he wants to do things on your own terms and timing. swears that he won't easily fall prey to the lingering sweet-scented air around you, perfumed syrup and sugar. gently skimming his lips and tongue over a soft nape, a supple shoulder. he'll settle for merely licking the flesh he wishes to sink his teeth into. a caress, a chaste kiss, but never bruising or breaking.

he swallows the protest to earn your approving smile in return. it's enough of a struggle seeing you prancing around unaffected while he's been dying to fuck you senseless. to do what's natural to him. "it's wrong for an unmated couple to live together," seems to be everyone else's motto and he'd like to laugh but there's a shred of truth to it. he realises that it's impossible when he wants to fuck all. the. time.

gritting his teeth and forcing a smile when he's hit with a waft of your scent, he knows you're turned on. you want it just as much—every heat spent away from him in separate rooms. he smells your slick calling out to him. hears your moans poorly muffled and overshadowed by the sounds of you fucking yourself. your pussy bare and gleaming, he'll get on his knees for a taste. prying your twitching thighs apart, forcing them open if he has to, his lips nibbling and sucking your clit til you're crying from the pleasure, thrumming his tongue so fast it drives you crazy. all for the tang of your squirt staining his tastebuds and mussed-up sheets below.

but he shouldn't live life by the balls. no matter how full and heavy they get with the need for release. preferably inside you, so deep and plenty he finds himself picturing it at random times of the day. zoning out in his office, in the middle of traffic. how full you'd look with your belly bulging out. would it drip between your pussy lips or should he plug you with his cock instead, refusing a single drop to leak.

still, he wills himself to stay within your bounds. being lustful and possessive isn't anything to be ashamed of. it's part of his makeup but he's more than that. two people are perfectly capable of looking beyond their sex and desires—or so you tell him.

••••••••••••••••••••

his rut arrives when his symptoms not-so casually appear in the middle of the week. pheromones and a temper not even you can subdue. he's biting into his knuckles from the arousal spurred on by great timing and comically predictable circumstances—just the smell and sight of you there, happily unaware and otherwise tempting.

maybe your expectations have been exceedingly high. you can't change his nature. but how dare he forbid you from entering the home you shared, spare keys hidden and passcodes altered. "leave—" he warns, then breathes a frustrated sigh, "—it's not safe."

not that he feels particularly sorry about his tone, but what separates him from you is but a door and a razor-thin resolve. he's at his limit. he won't survive this on suppressants alone. not with you looking the way you do. "how can i help?" you ask worriedly, wrecking your head over him. wanting to comfort and coddle. for someone who turns their nose up at omegan stereotypes, you're playing the part so perfectly it drives him mad.

because it's the worst experience for an alpha to go through a rut alone. you'd understand the pain of having to suppress a heat. all the years dealing with the fevers and cramps. milk leaking from your sore nipples wishing he'd be there to relieve the pressure. a nest of him and only him. grinding and burrowing within amber, musk, and spice. intoxicating, intense, chasing after the smell found in his sweat-drenched tee, a wrinkled white shirt bearing smoke and aftershave on its collar. snuggling his pillow and getting off with your fingers or a whirring toy at its highest speed, but it's not enough, never enough. pussy contracting on absolutely nothing.

his den is dark and moody when you step inside. slipping into a frenzied haze, there he lazes with legs spread on your shared bed big enough for four, it stretches wider than you remembered, or maybe it's that you've yet to see it in this light, waiting to be broken in and littered with your belongings. he's grabbed at them in a rush. whatever your scent clung to. your duvet, your stuffed toy, and pretty, day-old crimson panties gripped in the same fist he pumps his cock with.

the threads fray, soaked fabric snapping and stretching with every drag down his shaft. rip. rip. rippp. a hole tears through when he tugs too hard and that heavy thing slaps over his stomach with a resounding smack.

you see it for the first time and wonder why not sooner. the perfect dick hiding in plain sight. actually, that's not true. you just haven't seen it this up close and personal. but given the sneak peeks—when the steam clears in the shower and it hangs soft and hefty, the way it juts out of tight gym shorts, or just...the swell of it rubbing in between your ass cheeks when he gets needy—none of them could've prepared you for this.

sukuna thinks it’s so ugly and brutish. he's found many an opportunity to tell you so, even now as his head cranes backwards with a frustrated groan, a growl that rumbles from somewhere deep within. ”it's enough to scare off any omega—” he says, a knowing smirk on his face when he can practically smell the slick dribbling down your thighs, saturating your panties, "—but not you."

a thick vein throbs on the underside, tip bulging and a little darker than the shaft, girthy and gushing with precum. his balls are heavy, taut with tension under the soft skin, and you shudder at the thought of what his knot would look like...who would've thought that such a monstrous-looking thing would have this much of an effect on you. weak in the knees and stomach fluttering in anticipation. the way it seems oh so daunting, how are you meant to take all of that inside you. if he laid the entire thing right against your stomach, how far would it go? it'd be enough to knock the wind out of you.

you try to calm your nerves. it's just a rut. it'll be over in no time. quick and simple. although you've read plenty of stories and watched the videos to know this wouldn't be a passionate embrace. no tenderness or care for your pleasure let alone your comfort. you wish to believe that he'll be careful if not a bit rough. and maybe a part of you wants to please him. despite all your certainties, would it be so bad to make him feel good and satisfy his needs? would it be wrong to wish for his scent mark, and his bonding bite. to be claimed and chosen.

it's an expression you've never seen before. as if he wants to devour you. he won't explain himself as he makes you watch. turning you into a voyeur as the urge takes over him. hooded eyes locked on yours, his blown-out pupils and slobbering drool are enough evidence for you—he intends to mate.

whimpering his name does nothing to quell his madness or ministrations. he's so far gone you don't think he comprehends the things he says, "can't wait to knot you...breed you...been wanting to taste you for so long..." he purrs, low and rumbling from his chest. sharp teeth grazing against your earlobe teasingly but never biting down on the cartilage, just a light nibble that turns you into a shivering mess. he's caught you within his jaws and your instincts argue against your better judgement, you're beyond fighting and struggling now while your weak hands push against his hulking mass to no avail.

yet, it's thrilling. amazing even. an alpha pinned atop you and nowhere to run. his nose nuzzling the crook of your neck, the back of your ear, both your arms lifted in his singlehanded grasp. he dives for every inch of skin, every spot that bears your aroma the strongest, going as far into the divot of your armpit while he's laving at the salt and sweat greedily. his saliva scenting sugar-sweet skin, marking you as his chosen victim. "you're so dirty—" is more of a plea for him to snap out of it. already embarrassed, exposed, and so eager.

he takes a pebbled nipple between his teeth and swirls his tongue around the tip of it. you're too distracted to realise he hadn't responded to your quip, because your scent told him all he needed to know, so did the soft whimper when he abandons one nipple, and the moan when he takes the other in his mouth.

there's a way to do things and sukuna's way is unmerciful. a man has never been this good at finding a clit, which is probably why his tongue won't leave it alone. he keeps his tongue broad until it comes out of hiding before he's got his lips wrapped around. he sucks on it languidly. pulls away just to spit and slaver, blow a raspberry for fun. marvelling at the drool and the mess you've made.

no time to waste when most of it was spent not eating your pussy. sukuna hums and hungrily feasts, tongue flicking frantically. your screams come out involuntarily, unable to hold back your moans coming out in short staccato bursts. a little panicked, but nonetheless agreeable. "something's happening! wait—" you hiss when it starts to burn a little. your hips lifting off the bed while his fingers keep prodding that special spot inside.

it only makes it all the more pleasurable when the pressure builds, when the squeeze feels so tight. you clench and feel every pass of his digits, every purposeful lick. "—kuna, i think i'm gonna—" his fingers quicken while his other forearm presses down on your pelvis to keep you in place and it's more than enough to make you come hard. gushing again and again, streaking the sheets and his smug expression.

"i've always wanted to do that," he admits cheekily. a face you can't stop admiring now that it's covered in your juices. your legs tremble and you can't catch your breath whilst he's leaving gentle kisses on your oversensitive lips, but he's far from finished with you.

with his cock leaking in his hold, he taps it on your sticky heat for good measure before gliding it back and forth, the opening of his cock prodding, getting caught on your clit as he slips in slow. with how thick he is, you feel every ridge and vein. gasping at the first push and fisting the sheets to try and accommodate.

unsurprisingly, it hurts just a pinch. "please,” you mewl, just that single word slipping past ragged breaths as you struggle. throat dry and crackly from the heaving and the foggy, post-orgasm haze. you don't know if you want him to stop or to go on but—"what if it can't fit?" you're genuinely concerned because it might not physically fit. already full to the brim, your pussy stretches so snugly around his shaft like a glove.

"there's a lot more to go," he hints at the rest of his cock he's yet to sheath inside you. "but we'll make it fit," a large palm rests over your womb as he swipes his thumb against your clit, hoping it'll ease the discomfort.

you nod weakly, whimpering "i trust you," but he's so big. you can feel your pussy trying to suck him in, a bead of sweat travels down your chest. mouth falling open as he slips in a little at a time, girth forcing your entrance to open wider. buries his cock in the one pussy he’s fantasized about the most and ruts like he's always wanted to.

••••••••••••••••••••

on the third day, you start getting restless. feeling sore and exhausted while running on no sleep and little bites of food. the room is in dire need of fresh air and the bed frame is on its last legs, but sukuna's urges grow stronger by the day. he barely manages to pull out to hydrate before he goes back to fucking you. always so slow and gentle, however, your moans and whines spill out, slowly but surely you succumb to every orgasm that rocks through you. wave after rippling wave.

still hard and throbbing the entire time. it's probably because every time your neck cranes upwards as an offering, baring your mating gland, he avoids it. fighting it. "why won't you knot me?" comes out sounding pouty and petulant but you don't care. your delectable scent slowly fades into a bitter note, anxiety and insecurity filling your voice. sukuna hasn't even tried to push it past your folds. steadily milking his knot outside of where it should be with his own hands is enough of a blatant rejection.

he reminds himself that he'd sworn to never let it go that far, knotting you would change everything, what if you couldn't see him the same way, that he was just another alpha who took you for himself. "i can't," guilt laces his voice and so does his frustration when his conscience appears from behind the pussy-drunk fog. his heart bleeding, his instincts yearning. 'i don't want to hurt you' is what he means. but what you hear in your dejected state is 'you won't be able to handle it.'

was it your inexperience that made him uninterested? you knew alphas liked them subservient, obedient. just like an omega should be. taking his knot without qualms. consummating in perfect rhythm. a tinge of pain shoots through your chest at the thought—sukuna could have any omega he wants, you've kept him waiting too long, you've made him doubt. you're not able to keep up, to please him, to be enough...despite giving in. despite trying your best to take him. he won't claim you,' says the voice in your head.

a whimper breaks from you at his words. you shouldn't have to ask, this was meant to be innate, instinctual, not something he has to restrain himself from. "aren't i your mate? don't i belong to you?" you sob, hot tears flowing down your cheeks.

he presses his forehead to yours, "you're gonna bleed, i might break you," he tries to explain, getting uncharacteristically soft in the moment. it's your fault for stumbling across a wounded beast. finding your way into his broken heart. binding the pieces back together while you soothe the aches and kiss his scars. 'yes you belong to me.' his beautiful omega who begs so nicely to be mated, if this is what you're like three days in, he longs to see what you're like in heat.

you shake your head, getting stubborn. you won't accept it and you're on the verge of clawing at him to get away. you've been ready at his mercy and what for. just to come out the other end dissatisfied and unfulfilled. fuck. you just want it to be done with. defile me, ravage me, you want him completely.

in an attempt to fight him, you let out a harmless threat, one you regret the moment it's uttered because you've gone too far—"if you won't do it, i'll find another alpha who will!"

suddenly, sukuna's thoughts are invaded by that sick thought. scenes of you naked and oozing slick. pinned beneath another alpha, his weight pressing into you along with his knot, glaring at him as he makes his claim the way he couldn't and it makes him snap.

the growling sound that leaves his mouth is a warning, and so is the hand that slips around your throat. large fingers coming together around your neck. the squeeze cutting your gasp short. it should frighten you, he could snap your neck as easily as it is to split a matchstick in half and right now, he seems just about ready to.

"careful now, omega," he spits out, teeth bared and demanding submission. forbidding and looming above you, his fist tightens ever so slightly. "you've forgotten your place," it seems you've misjudged your role and the precarious position you're in. fucked out in his den, in his bed. intentionally riling him up won't do you any good. no one touches you, scents you, or claims you but him no matter how your feet kick him uselessly, he doesn't move an inch.

"i'm sorry—" you pant, "i'll be good, i promise." you squirm and wriggle underneath, uncertain if you should run or relish in it. so ominous it turns you on even more. he's never put you in your place like this and you think you should make him jealous more often if it means he'd choke you out and go feral on your pussy.

"is that so?" he tries again. presses his cock in slowly inch by inch. feeling your pussy open up and yield to his girth. sukuna leans in close so he gets to watch your eyes roll back. bullies his way through with one deep thrust and finds himself balls-deep. "you want it so bad? want me to ruin this perfect pussy all because you wanna cum all over my knot, i won't stop til you're screaming and milking me dry—"

muscle memory forces your back to arch towards him. his broad chest against your nipples, delicious hot skin rubbing your hardened nubs the right way. he stills for a moment before he withdraws slowly, a mix of pleasure and anticipation coiling in your belly.

watching him, watching you. he looks down and groans at the obscene sight of cream and slick coating his shaft, viscous and too much to bear. the bulge in your tummy protrudes where his cock takes up all that space, rearranging your guts had never looked this lewd.

when his knot finally kisses your entrance, you feel it hot and prodding against you. desperate for him shove it in. to feel it pop through and nestle so deep, all the way to the hilt while he stays there and unloads himself inside you. balls twitching, sitting in a warm crook he’s found. your omega instincts sing at the thought of him filling you up. "knot me, breed me, my alpha—" you cry. begging for it, hot and immensely copious. a sticky mess all over, both the mattress completely drenched in fluids and your insides coated in his seed.

he feels the give of your womb, the tightness around the head of his cock. groaning at the sensation. just a little bit more and he'd be buried, finally. he fucks you violently, no holds barred. hands gripping your hips so achingly tight he might shatter your pelvis into pieces. you'll count the bruises later on but shall forgive him for the fact that he's cumming his brains out.

you're crying and babbling mindlessly, yes yes just like that. your limbs begin to shake as your peak edges closer, hand gripping his bicep while bracing yourself. wild and frantic hips jerking and shallow thrusts bumping and nudging against your cervix. striking deep and rocking you against the sheets.

your shivering doesn't go unnoticed and there he leans in to give your oiled and mouth-watering neck a final lick, shushing you with a gentle, calming kiss to your mating gland in preparation for his teeth.

and when he finally pushes his knot in, cock piercing your womb as your pussy clamps down viciously on its slim spot at the base, his teeth spears into your flesh with ease. there's the give of taut skin and tight muscle but soon he settles deep enough for blood to trickle and you come several times, pulsing and fluttering along multiple orgasms rolling in after the next, enough that you're shaking in his hold.

you cry and cry, overstimulated, sensitive, and so in love. not only with how full you feel but you surprise him with your own teeth sinking down into his trapezius, not too deep into muscle but just enough to leave tiny dents in his skin. your chattering jaw and slippery lips can't find purchase while you're preoccupied with whining his name. so you try again, this time closer to his neck.

sukuna catches on to your efforts and finds it all the more endearing. helping you find the perfect spot, he manoeuvres his neck closer while you give him light nibbles and sharp pinprick nips here and there but they're all too soft to pierce the skin. "do it," he pants, "mark me anywhere, i'm yours."

it must be his words that urge you but you think it's more to do with the greed roiling inside you. you want to leave a mark that he'd never be able to cover up. by the time he's grinding his knot into you again, pulling at your hips and guiding you on it like a toy, milking him of whatever's left, your lips part around the front of his neck without any more hesitation. inhaling his scent deeply, the vibrations of his groans rattling against your teeth, before biting down on his throat. teeth embedded deep and tongue lapping at his bobbing adam's apple.

he leans in to kiss you filthy and open-mouthed, tongues swapping spit and bloody iron while your thumbs caress his jaw and neck, adding a little pressure to the spot where his freshly bitten mating gland throbs quickly. a hummingbird wingbeat beneath your fingertips.

#just some thoughts...#alpha sukuna #sunpiece #ask #anon #saturated #whoever requested this im sorry it took so long ;__; i hope hes nasty enough #sukuna hcs #sukuna fic #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #jjk hcs #jjk fic

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honeybunnyale · 4 months ago

Text

A Favor l J.M.

w.c: 2.1k

t.w.: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Dark Fic, Smut, description of drug addiction, withdrawals and emotional manipulation. (Lowkey the darkest thing I've ever written, will probs never do again)

a/n: Please read warnings for all of my works before reading. 18+ only!

Summary: Joel is asking for one more favor.

"Don't."

Tess turns at his sharp tone and eyes him. Joel glances keeping his eyes focused forward. She looks up with a sigh-like groan, her pupils pointed to the sky, tongue pressing against the side of her cheek in mock annoyance.

"Why not?"

He stares off into the distance with his shoulders tense and his arms crossed in contemplation. The QZ was always just an option to him and Tess. They could come and go as they pleased, they could leave if they wanted, together, maybe even make things work between them once and for all.

"She likes you, always has," Tess mentions referring to the addict that keeps coming back to him.

They had met years ago, she was barely twenty-two, already asking for some drugs, any drugs that could take away the images in her head, the thoughts that kept her up at night and made her afraid of herself.

She quickly became addicted to Joel as much as the stuff that he gave her. He likes that she keeps coming back to him like a dependency. He would never admit that to anyone though.

"You like her too, so what's the big deal?"

He sniffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

"She's young, she doesn't know what she likes, what she wants-"

"She's thirty-three, Joel. She wants you."

He finally turns to her and gives her a look. She sighs. Convincing Joel of anything seemed to be completely useless at this point. With age, his stubbornness only increased. Most of the time she had found the appeal to it, the fun and lust for the thick headedness of his actions.

But she's tired and frankly, with her own age, the original spark had gone dull.

"You'd rather she be with some other fuck in the QZ?"

She knew where to hit him, where his anger would rise the most. Joel was always jealous, ever since they met. When Tess had been able to get in contact with someone over the radio named Frank, it felt like she had shot acid into his veins.

Good thing Frank wasn't interested in her, not in the way he originally thought.

He scowls.

"Oh c'mon Joel, you've fucked her before, haven't you? It’ll be fun, I'm sure she'll want to do it again."

He stays quiet, she pushes on his shoulder lightly, starting to chuckle.

"Just open your palm and she'll come running like a little‐"

"Don't‐," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, turning back and stepping down from the small hill that overlooks the fallen jagged cityline.

"She doesn't deserve to be spoken about like that," he mumbles, as if he had more morality than her.

Tess hums, wanting nothing more than to have finished her sentence, aching to remind him of how much you were already wrapped around his finger. In some sense you really were, judging by your raspy moans and heady breaths a month ago, the last time Joel had seen you and coincidentally the night he had told you to stop seeking him out.

"Such a Gentlemen. See? You won't have to try so hard."

He gives her another look.

"We need this, then we might be able to get out of this place. For Tommy."

...

Withdrawals were a pain in the ass. Some moments you shake, having to hide your hand behind your back, biting your lip so hard it makes you bleed, just so that officers wouldn't shoot you at the slightest twitch of a hand.

Other times you feel fine, your mind numb, cloudy but not enough to incapacitate you from your work. The worst is when you're home, when you can't distract yourself with the flames and foul smell of rotting or burning flesh.

Being stationed in charge of the disposal of all of the infected bodies came with needs, and those needs could only be fulfilled by Joel Miller. The man who had left you to fend for yourself and deal with your sudden loss of supply.

You hated Joel, hated the way he made you believe he had actually cared about you. It's been a month, no pills, no nothing, only you and your thoughts.

Now you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, your body covered in sweat and itching with discomfort. There's a knock at your door, the same one he had told you would signify his arrival.

Now you were hallucinating, thinking of the damn bastard that had left you feeling sick and deprived. Your mind was numb, your body needing something, something to make your skin sing, your veins to sting with pleasure even if for just a moment.

You think of his hands and the door knocks again. Your own fingertips travel down to your breast, pinching your budding nipple through the fabric of your sweater. You hear your name, out from his own lips and calling for you in his voice.

A shiver rolls down your spine. Your hands slip down your stomach and towards your folds, spreading your legs, imagining his head between them, kissing up your thigh, commenting on how the taste of your pussy was enough compensation for the ache of his knees and back.

The dip of your fingers wasn't enough, your brows furrow, they weren't as thick as you wanted, the way it should be.

"Open. It's me."

The door shakes with another bout of banging. You almost fall to the floor. Your heart races. For a few moments, he hears you shuffle around, cursing under your breath and ultimately breathing in deeply.

You open the door, and his eyes soften, just a little. Enough for you to see the slight guilt and especially enough for you to feel the pity he had for you. You were taken aback from it.

"What do you want?" you mutter.

His eyes rake over your form, you wore nothing but a tattered sweater, the one he had given you and that he found while scavenging outside the QZ.

Your voice was weak, you pulled your sleeves over your fingers, bitten raw and meaty. In your mind, you had yelled at him, screamed and pushed him by the chest to show your frustration and betrayal.

Your hands start to shake as he makes his way inside, his eyes giving you a once over at the blank look you had. He sits at the edge of your bed. His face was stoic, still stern. He looked as though he didn't bring himself to your apartment, as if you were making him sit his ass down to tend to his wounds like all of the other times.

"C'mere."

You don't move, your skin starts to itch, anxiety builds in your stomach. His mouth barely opened and he grits his teeth as he repeats his command.

Seeing you like this made him angry. Your eyes were sunken in, your body looking sickly and frail. You weren't taking care of yourself, and it was all his fault.

You move forward and his hands wound around your waist to help you straddle his hips. Your hands instinctively move towards the breast pockets of his flannel, he slaps them away.

"I need something." he says calmly, almost apologetically.

You ignore him, now clawing at his jean pocket, looking for a little reused baggy of baby blue or white pills. He takes your wrists and holds them so tight you flinch.

"Listen to me."

He was like a snake, moving his head languidly in front of your face until you had finally given him eye contact. For a few moments you scowled, your eyes were clear in their anger.

He felt you. The real you. Then you looked down submissively, attempting to keep still against him, despite the way your body shook in tremors.

God, he ruined you. He shifts his thigh, pushing you slightly back so that you aren't as flush against his chest. Your legs split between his as he adjusts on your bed.

Your breath hitches when your cunt spreads against the rough denim of his jeans. He watches as you lick your lips, he feels the way you dampen the fabric underneath you.

He stares at your lips, remembering the time he made you swallow down a pill with his cum still held in your tongue. His eyes soften and his palm meets the sweaty, hot skin of your cheek.

His thumb pushes in, he can't help it. You suck automatically, expecting there to be sweet chalky dust littered on his fingertips.

"Need you to do me a favor..."

Your eyes tear up and you suck harder, your hips starting to twitch back and forth.

"Have some friends working for Robert, yeah?"

You don't respond, he already knows. You feel a pit of frustration build in your lower stomach; you pull yourself away, but he keeps your hips in place.

His thigh bounces up against you and his finger pops out of your mouth to grip your chin. He looks down at you softly, his eyes trailing down to your lips before leaning down to devour them.

His hand cups the back of your neck and his thumb tilts your head up. His lips move against yours hungrily, his tongue traveling further as you moan as his other wandering hand massaging into the side of your breast.

He breaks the kiss slightly, thick spit trailing over your lips as he kneads your body and flexes his thigh. His eyes search over your face as you start to roll your hips and your eyes flutter closed.

"C'mon baby... I'll give you what you want if you just tell me."

You swallow thickly and lick your lips. His hand lowers between your legs, a knuckle brushing against your cunt and circling over your clit, glossy with your slick and pulsing in time with each grind of your hips on his thigh.

His lips trail down your neck as you nod slightly.

"Y-yeah..." you trail off, only speaking with an exhale.

Your hands reach the back of his head as he bites down on your shoulder, humming as you finally answer his question. He looks up at you from there, tilting his head up to nuzzle his nose under your chin.

He helps you shift closer to him, your eyes closing tightly and your lips pursing as you contain your moans of relief and pleasure at his touch and the sudden closeness of another body against yours.

"Heard they found a battery..."

You nod and lean down to kiss him again, a whine escaping your lips as he tilts his head to the side and you inevitably miss.

"Joel-"

"Know where it is, honey?"

The slightest flinch of your brow, the question developing in your head and showing through your eyes made him hesitate. He kisses you again and you're distracted.

Minutes later he has your pussy squelching, your neck and jaw covered in love bites and your hips bruised with his grip. Your back meets his chest as your hips work over his thigh.

His fingers were furiously swirling over your clit, his other hand holding your neck steady as he mouthed over your neck.

Your body shakes and he feels the way your cunt pulses in orgasm. A garbled moan escapes past your lips and you feel the way his chest rumbles in a chuckle.

Joel's mouth doesn't stop, his lips start to suck harshly against your skin, making it bruise tender, your skin resulting in raised bumps.

You realize, as he tightens his hands on you and trembles, that he missed the feeling too.

"Fireflies," you mumble against his chest. Your body was laid on the covers, his laying on his side beside you. His hands caress over your neck, he nods and sighs in what you think is relief.

A couple of minutes later he sits up, your eyes close and you feel the cold brush through your body again. The tremors came back and the twitch of your fingers towards him were weak.

He leaves something on the bedside table, you hear the shuffling of his jeans and a wet cloth against your swollen cunt. It almost feels as if you were on the precipice of sleep.

You feel lips on your forehead, the wetness of them leaves an uncomfortable feeling on your skin. The door opens and closes softly.

As you lay on the mattress, finding that he hadn't even left his scent behind on your pillowcases, you realize something else. You stare at the baggy full of pills, a little more packed than the usual he would give you.

He's gone and he used you one last time.

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

Thank you for reading! Sending love!

-Alejandra 💋

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #dark fic #dead dove do not eat #joel miller fic #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #ale's fics <3

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igotanidea · 1 year ago

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Dirty work: Jason Todd x reader

A/N: I am a firm believer that even in his post-patrol haze and surge of energy all Jason Todd needs from his beloved princess are hugs, not fucks and i will die on this hill.

***

The adrenaline was still fuzzing in his system, even after hours and hours of his night job in Gotham. It was stressful and hitting on all his sensitive spots hidden so deep under the surface. Muscles moving in the trained motion he practised milion times before, each instinct spurred on by imagination running wild.

Hurt, scared, innocent kids, left to tend to themselves on the streets.

Ordinary citizens exposed to the aftermath of whatever drama and destruction the mobs and gangs decided to wage that night.

Terror on the street on women who were working the night shift, trying to make a living, make ends meet.

And the same shit going on over and over again every fucking night, because fucking someone had a fucking moral code. Because fucking someone refused to put an end to something terrible, too afraid to stain his fucking soul.

Red Hood didn't have a soul to save anymore.

Not after everything that happened in his life.

Dirty wokrk, but someone had to do it.

One life taken, dozens of other's saved. Felt like constantly being at war and the heat of the fight made it so much easier to forget about the sacrifices made along the way.

Red Hood was strong, tough and ready to take on the hardest responsiblity of cleaning Gotham of scumbags and crimnals.

But after?

Once the first rays of a morning sun loomed on the horizon, Jason knew it was time to go home. Take off the mask. Became an ordinary man once more.

Hoping, wishing and praying she wouldn't kick him out again this time. That she would take him, despite the blood on his hands, the injuries on his body and deep scars on his soul.

Not a Red Hood anymore.

Jason Todd. Human. Man. Boyfiend.

The energy was still high when he climbed to the apartment and stood on the wooden floor, carefullly avoiding that one screetching floarboard, almost stepping on his toes to not wake her.

"Jason."

Years of vigilantism and dealing with shit.

Hightened instincts and senses.

And yet, Y'N's voice in the morning, in the empty, quiet apartment made him jump from surprise, causing her to giggle, causing the surprise to give way to a wave of warm feelings.

"Morning, sunshine."

"Depends. Did you bring me breakfast?" she teased

"Since when do you eat breakfast?"

"It doesn't matter if I do!" she got out of the bed, yawning widely, rubbing her eyes and stepping closer to him, taking his helmet off, mindful of the explosived installed there (biting her tongue to not say something about using a protection that was simultaniously life threatening) "You are supposed to preach me about not eating healthy and feeding me with the best groceries. Croissaints, fancy salads, low fat cheese. All that stuff!"

"Are you for real?" he frowned in confusion upon her words. What was going on here?

"Nah, I'm joking cause I can tell that under all this pose you're tired. Though maybe a bit of laugh would do you good. Even if it;s at my expense" she smiled cupping his cheek and meeting his eyes "What do you need? hugs, kisses, cuddles? Or somehing more intense?" that was an obvious hint she was willing to help if he needed some action to blow off some steam.

"Can you just be with me? I just need your presence next to me. Knowing this is all real and I won't wake up alone again." hearing those words coming from Jason was the biggest leap of faith. He was not the one to admit to feeling tired or that something was weighting on his conscience once out of the mask. Never in the million years. But with her - it was simpler, easier, knowing she would just listen and observe rather than fill the silence with silly questions and talking and preaching and lamenting about his behaviour.

"I'm here. I promise, it's all real. You're not alone." She nodded calmly.

Jason produced the tiniest smile and let her guide him to the warm bed with the soft sheets smelling like her, with her arms wrapped around him like a soft cocoon.

And it was just fine.

No need to talk or to explain or to fight anymore.

Getting rid of this feeling that nothing made sense, his efforts were futile and no one would ever understand him.

Finally, a little bit of peace and maybe - just maybe - the tiniest amount of happiness brought by the steady beating of her heart in his ear and the gentle movement of her fingers in his hair.

True meaning of intimacy between two people.

Bonding for life.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff

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mia-can-yap-too · 2 months ago

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0. Prologue

synopsis:- A witch has kidnapped you. Do as she says or die.

warnings:- crack, light-hearted kidnapping

dividers by @/strangergraphics

It started with cereal. That's how you know everything is about to go wrong.

Now, it technically isn't a crime to eat cereal for lunch on a day you had considered a 'No Pants Day'. You were halfway through a thrilling showdown between your spoon and the stubborn chunk of Lucky Charms stuck on the bottom of the bowl. Very important stuff.

You were in your element. Slouchy hoodie, bad posture, inner monologue at full volume.

Then came a whoosh! and suddenly, air shimmered, and lights flickered, and your cereal floated for approximately half a second. And just like that, you weren't in your kitchen anymore.

Which bring you to now. You are sitting in a chair in what seems to be a small, cozy, and slightly crooked cottage. All around you are books, teacups, and something that smelled of cinnamon and existential dread.

Standing in front of you is a woman in a green cloak, who is nervously wiping the sweat off her brow.

"Oh my! I didn't think it would actually work! That's the first time I've tried that spell! Aren't I so amaz— Where are your pants?!"

Instinctively, you press your thighs together. "It's 'No Pants Day'," you make up an excuse.

The witch raises a brow. "'No Pants Day'? You mortals sure have some weird holidays... Anyways, you're not dressed for travel. I was hoping to catch you while you were more... well-prepared."

You blink. "Am I dreaming? Oh my God, I knew I drank too many Monster Energy Drinks... Are you a hallucination?"

She snorts. "God, I wish. I'm Mia, the best witch you'll ever meet in your life. Sorry for the inconvenience and all, but I need you to run some... errands for me."

"Like groceries? I can do that."

She grimaces. "No, it's a bit more complicated than that. You see, I might have accidentally destroyed some very important books. You know, fairytales, old legends, shit like that. All of those have been erased. Completely. Like how James Charles wishes his past crimes were. Now, I need someone to go into those stories and complete them again as a way to rewrite them. You happen to be that perfect someone!"

You furrow your brows. "Why can't you do it yourself?"

"Because of narrative affinity and other stuff you won't get because I'm the one with the Bachelors in Witchcraft here," she rolls her eyes. "Also, the characters don't like me very much. Something about meddling with backstories and stuff."

"Well, why me?"

She pulls out a scroll. It has your name on it. As well as your browser history.

"I'll be ignoring some of the things in here and get straight to the point. You've read 300 fantasy novels, wrote an essay on the impact of fairytales on all forms of art, and named your cat after a dragon. Do not act surprised."

"Okay, I admit to doing all that, but I'm not sure... it sounds quite dangerous. Also, I have work on Monday, so."

Mia seems a bit fed up with you. She sighs heavily. "It will be alright. Only some things will change, because you can't always write the same damn thing time and time again, can you? Other than that, I'm pretty sure you'll be a-okay! Besides, it's not like you have a choice, anyways..."

You stare at her. She is right. She's the one with the upper hand here. You don't even know where you are.

Fine, then. You will fix everything. As long as your boss doesn't get mad on Monday...

"Alright," you sigh. "What do I have to do?"

"Really?! Thank you!" Mia beams. "All you have to do is solve the main issue in the story and romance the main character. Easy peasy!"

"How will I get back?"

"Oh, you just have to think of this place again."

"That's all?" you ask, skeptical.

"Yup! Off you go! But first, for the love of God, wear some pants, please."

taglist:- @jeonwiixard

Once upon a Prince – Masterlist

#once upon a prince – the series #in print #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader

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yanderes-galore · 4 months ago

Note

Ooh how about yandere Juno falling for a rabbit darling ~ hcs please love to hear your thoughts ~

Yandere! Juno with Rabbit! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Manipulation, Mentions of wanting to eat another person, Implied abduction, Implied murder, Dubious relationship.

Juno never thought she'd fall for an herbivore like Legoshi did.

She used to despise the thought that Legoshi, a fellow wolf, would choose a rabbit to give affection to.

Was she that bad?

Why won't a wolf love her like he does that rabbit!?

Juno eventually gets over her feelings but her pride is still a bit wounded.

She's irritated with the fact she's lost her crush to a rabbit.

Not only that, but when she tries to love an herbivore like Louis, he's in an arranged marriage.

She probably meets you when she's at her lowest point.

At first, despite being sociable and friendly to most, she treats you with slight disdain.

It's not anything you did...

She just... is still a bit sore about her love life.

Yet over time she manages to get used to you, the rabbit whom she met outside of school life.

When she graduated she fully expected to be the Beastar... She's not.

She's doing her best to still show others carnivores are not to be feared, however.

While your first meeting is rocky... Juno still remembers it.

She was at a café, mourning about her love life.

Yet when she thought she'd be ignored... You came up to her.

A rabbit... came up to her... a wolf....

How familiar.

You stated you've seen some speeches she's done to defend carnivores and admitted you appreciated your cause.

You looked so... cheery.

She tried her best to brush you off, to take a moment to wallow.

Yet even when she growled... you stood your ground, offering to provide company.

Reluctantly Juno accepted the offer...

Only for her to become more reliant on her rabbit friend than she thought.

Part of her, when she looks at you, wonders about how Legoshi felt about Haru....

Is... a relationship with a rabbit really that worth it?

As she watches you, her tail sways as she allows herself to be lost in thought.

Maybe it's... worth a shot.

Juno has always been known to be manipulative and possessive towards those she loves.

She's easily jealous.

Even after a few meetings with her rabbit companion at that same café, she finds herself oddly... eager?

Maybe she's just on edge but...

She finds herself irritated with anyone around you.

Wolf and rabbit customs are so different....

A rabbit wouldn't understand a wolf's possessive nature, would they?

Juno does her best to ignore her instincts.

She tries to be sociable when you introduce her to your friends.

She doesn't really feel like she wants to eat you but...

She does feel a need to keep you all to herself.

She does struggle telling the difference between friend and prey at times the longer she's around you.

Yet she won't try to harm you.

Others... She finds herself getting snappy with others.

Even as just friends, Juno finds herself addicted to you.

Just sitting beside you makes her tail wag and her senses sharpen.

You're so much smaller than her... it ignites both a want to protect and... something darker.

Does she want to maim? No... No, she couldn't....

Yet... She can't ignore the desire to possess you.

To have you in ways no one else can....

Your scent nestles itself in her nose and she can't get it out.

When she touches your fur, it's so soft....

The slightest twitch of your nose or ears has her holding back a deep growl.

She doesn't want to hurt you... but a carnivore's instincts can be dangerous.

She loves you, really does....

But the longer she sees you with someone else... She wants to snap.

She wonders how it would feel to bite those around you... or even taste you.

She imagines the blood on her maw and claws... and it scares her.

Juno is scared to confess, scared it'll mean she'll lose herself in you completely.

When she tells herself she loves you, more than some companion... How does she mean it?

Does she love you as a partner... or as prey?

The wolf finds herself following your every move, despite how friendly she is... she's still a predator.

It won't be long before she corners you and her feelings fall out of her mouth like drool.

She tells you she loves you, adores you more than any other.

She wants what Legoshi and Haru have... She wants your love.

Yet when you don't give it... When you look at her with fear....

Her delusions seem unable to take it.

She barely registers your scream when she strikes, claws ready to pick you up...

If you won't give her your love, her craving...

She'll just have to take it.

#yandere beastars #yandere juno #yandere beastars juno #yandere beastars x reader

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harrystylesfan2686 · 2 years ago

Text

Pieces Part 3

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: the aftermath of the break up has different effects on both, Azriel and Reader.

A/N: yall I'm sick🥲 the updates might be late but I'll try to post as much as possible. Hope you like this one!

Pieces Masterlist

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

It's been one month.

One month of Healing.

When azriel left, I told myself that I will not contact him until I'm ready. Doesn't matter how much I'm missing him or wanting him. I will not talk to him until I know I won't take him back the second I see him again.

I gave myself two days. Two days to sulk all I wanted. I spent the whole time crying and feeling miserable about myself. Before Az left at least, I wasn't by myself. At least I saw him once a day.

Now? Nothing.

I am totally alone. His absence hit me Hard. Everything I saw, almost brought me to my knees.

The kitchen where we would make dinner together, laughing and joking with each other that many times ended with us covered in flour and syrup.

The couch where we would sit cuddling and talking until we fell asleep, always waking up with strained muscles.

His office where he would sit on his chair in front of his desk, writing out reports and whatnot while I sit in his armchair reading my book. Just enjoying each others company and occasionally taking breaks to make out on the very deck, and then some.

After those dreadful days though, I called Feyre and Mor and had a very much needed girls night. We took out a wine bottle and I spilled everything to them. My mind was too drunk to think my feelings about Elain might offend Feyre but she genuinely felt sad for me and embarrassed about her sister. The poor girl even apologised to my about Elain's behavior to which I immediately told her it wasn't her fault.

When I told them how lonely it got being alone in a big house like this, they suggested maybe I should get a job or something to keep my mind distracted and promised that they'll visit me often. So I did juat that.

I found a part time job at a local library. I have to admit, I'm really enjoying it. I'm the second assistant to the sweetest lady, Hilda, who owns the shop. I don't do much, just help her in small things like adjusting books on self or helping in shipping books out or in. Layla, the first assistant, handles most of the work around the shop. My job is basically doing what she asks of me. The salary isn't much but I don't care because it's never been about money.

The first week was very hard. Everyday after I came home, the silence felt like a slap on the face, reminding me of everything I lost.

But, slowly, I became comfortable with it. Now it's doesn't hurt me as it did before.

There were many times when I think of Azriel, tears filled my eyes, but I never let them free. I sucked them in and did anything else that didn't made me cry, like taking baths, baking my favorite chocolate brownies, reading in front of the fire place while drinking hot coco or calling my friends to take me shopping.

And as time went. I started to heal. I started to feel good, happier with myself. And without even realizing it, I started to love myself.

-☆-

Azriel

It's been one month.

One month of regretting everything I did to my mate.

I've spent my whole month sulking in this room, crying and regretting everytime I chose Elain over my wife. I haven't slept at all since I came here, just enough to keep me functioning. My appetite is gone. I don't eat unless Rhys come and force feeds me like I'm some baby.

I told Rhysand and Cassian everything the first morning i stayed here. Which earned me a flick to head by Cassian and a very disappointed look from Rhys. Even though they didn't give me any scolding(which I very much deserved), the flick and expression said enough.

Rhys has refrained me of any work, handling it himself or having someone else do it. While I have been sitting around here and hating myself. It seems like even my mind has declared itself an enemy, showing me memories of everytime I dismissed Y/N and hurt her in any way at most random times, cutting a deeper cut in my heart everytime.

"Hey Az, I was thinking if we could go out for dinner tonight? There is this new amazing restaurant I saw while walking near Sidra. I really want to try it." She told me as I put on my coat, ready to go.

"I can't, I have a mission for today. Rhys told me it's important so I can't skip. We'll go some other time. Okay?"

"Ok."

I could hear the excitement in her voice when she asked me and the hurt when I rejected her and promised to go another time. The time never came. She never asked again. And I never noticed.

"Az, are you awake?" She whispers in the dead of night. Both of us sleeping on the bed. My back to her, hoping to fall asleep quickly because I have early training tomorrow.

Cassian is spending time with Nesta more, so Rhys has told me to go to an illyrian camp to check how things are going. I have to wake and go there early to catch them off guard to see what's truly going on.

I can't do that if Y/N doesn't let me sleep.

I didn't answer her that night, hoping if i dont respond, she'll think im asleep and doesnt call me again. She really didnt call me again. I prioritized my sleep over her. Her voice sounded so small. She needed me. And I didn't care.

"So, I saw a really cute baby in garden today and..." I drone out her babbling and try to quickly I can get out of here, I promised Elain to help in her garden today. She'll be disappointed if I show up late.

"Az? You're listening to me right?" She suddenly questions, I clear my throat and answer a small, of course, she nods and takes a deep breath, not saying anything anymore. I sign in relief of the silence.

I put my head in my hands and tug hard on my hair, wanting to feel hurt, hurt the kind that she clearly felt and I didn't care.

I hate myself more and more as memories flash through my mind. I can't even cry at this point. I wished she'd hit me when we fought. Slaped and paunched some sense into me. I don't blame her at all for not talking to me. Gods, I wouldn't even blame her if she left me. I deserve it.

How do I fix this?

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Taglist: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @crazylokonugget @going-through-shit @wallacewillow0773638 @kalulakunundrum @cat-or-kitten

#acotar fandom #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar angst #azriel #azriel angst #azriel x you #azriel x reader #pieces

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transformers-spike · 5 months ago

Note

I have to admit I was inspired by your post about how the bots (either faction) would eat someone out, but now I have to take this thought to its logical conclusion and ask how you think the bots would react to being eaten out! By another cybertronian, mass-shifted for humans, either works. I know this isn’t exactly in line with your usual style but I hope you don’t mind my at least asking..?

Please and thank you!!!

I was going to do something longer with this before realizing I do not have the energy. So I'll stick to a simpler answer: Megatron would very much enjoy being eaten out. He's quite difficult to please, mostly because even if you stimulate his anterior node, he needs something inside of him to make him overload. So either sacrifice your hand or get yourself an xxl dildo (only works if he's mass displaced tho lol) Dreadwing has a very sensitive valve, it hasn't seen use in a very long time - so he's much more reactive compared to Megatron. He's far more likely to overload from teasing. Rubbing his protomesh folds and licking/sucking on his anterior node is likely to do the trick. Very servos off during the whole thing - will let you do as you please Skyquake can be just as sensitive as his brother, but he likes it much rougher. Don't be shy about your touches, he wants to be overstimulated - graze your teeth over his node, chew on his valve - he doesn't care - just make him overload hard (he's actually extremely good at giving instructions, mostly from his stay in the Vosnian air force) The hard part with Starscream is getting to see his valve in the first place. It's already difficult getting him to eat you out, but getting any kind of access to his interface array is hella hard. It's pretty easy to make him overload with only minor stimulation, his thighs are shaking during the whole ordeal (if you let those claws near you, he'll shred you to pieces from pleasure - and he knows this too) Airachnid is... well are you sure you want to eat her out? I mean you can - she'll certainly allow you - but it's clearly a trap. The servo on your head is firm, and if you try to get away - well, you won't get very far. She easily makes you worship and eat her out until your jaw hurts. Who knows, maybe she'll bind your hands with her web and use you as she pleases Breakdown cannot see you (tits too big) - but the servo on your cheek is nice and comforting. Even if you can't eat him out as well as Knock Out, he appreciates the effort. He's harder to stimulate than the rest, you really have to give it your all just to maybeeee get 1 good overload out of him. Will pet your head with the back of a digit during and after it - very affectionate Knock Out is quick to show his valve if you think you can get him off. He doubts it, but oh well, he's happy enough having a new intake on him (even if it ends up disappointing him). He's neither easy nor difficult - just happy to be here and stroke his human's helm as they lick and suck on his anterior node. The trick to making him overload is cooing praises up at him

#transformers x human #transformers x reader #transformers prime #maccadam #valveplug #headcanon hour #tfp megatron #tfp starscream #tfp breakdown #tfp knock out #tfp airachnid #tfp dreadwing #tfp skyquake

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muffinsin · 8 months ago

Note

Hey, it's platonic anon again, I hope you don't mind me asking, as I have been feeling a little bit insecure lately, if you do one with alcina + daughters separate reactions to a fem head maid reader slowly getting deeper in depression because she has a little pudge that she doesn't like, but it just makes he look like a teddybear, and the maids have been making fun of her recently, and then she stops showing up to work all together, staying in her room and only eating one meal a day?

-platonic anon

Awhh, this is hella adorable, absolutely! :) Imma have to remove Alci though, hunny, I don't write for her though might occaisonally include her in pieces when I feel like it

Also oops, this got way longer than I thought it would, so imma have to split it into 3 parts. This one’s Bela’s

Let's get into it! :)

Masterlists found at pinned; rip, my linking is busted

Bela

Being involved with the maidens by far more than her sisters, professionally so even, Bela notices when you don't show up for work immediately

And at first, she's willing to turn a blind eye to it, thinking that maybe you're simply too tired too work, or in need of a vacation

She does admit, there isn't all that much of that at the castle

But, she likes you

And as such, she's willing to ignore that you aren't working as you should be

That is, for the first two days, at least

She is sure: you know to come to her when in need of a break

It's not like she won't grant you one, so long as it isn't harvesting season or the beginning of winter and all staff members are needed

But it isn't, and your disappearance starts to feel a little...odd

Now, she wouldn't describe herself as someone caring for the maids, head maiden or not

But, she likes you

A kind, loving, hard working woman

Someone she finds: she enjoys spending her time with, and someone she has enjoyed getting to know

Not showing up to work is so...unusual for you. So out of character

And as such, despite what she's sure her sisters would say, she seeks you out

Knocking on the door to your room- despite not having to knock at pretty much any door in the castle due to her status- she waits patiently until you open the door for her

What she takes in has her gasp in surprise and take a step back momentarily

Your room is warm, yes, but the air has adapted a strange scent that has her scrunch up her nose. She never thought she’d want to open a window

You’re curled in bed, underneath the blankets, but she still sees the thick clothing covering you

Briefly, she worries this might be too warm for a little human, but drops the thought again

- temperature wise, you seem well and healthy enough

She takes a step closer again, her golden eyes finding yours at last

You seem…off

Yet now that she stands in front of you, she seems at a loss for words, unsure what to say

It’s not like she’s used to cheering up anyone but her sisters

Glancing to the side, she sees multiple plates by your nightstand

One for each day you spent in your room

Is that all you’ve eaten?

In her mind, she recalls: humans are supposed to eat three days a meal. Especially those hard at work

You don’t speak, only stare at her, as if too tired and drained to do much

For once, she doesn’t mind the lack of respectful bows and what not

For once, she supposes she can let this be a casual, friendly conversation

Still unsure of what to say, she sits by your bed, her flies buzzing anxiously

You look up for a moment, your eyes trailing across her face, down her neck and to her exposed collarbone, her chest and slim hips and waist

You can’t help but fiddle with the blankets, can’t help but compare her build to yours

Normally, you don’t care

But the words from the maidens, the mockery aimed at you, hurt recently

You almost wish you could be like Bela, so confident, so strong, so strikingly beaufiful

You only ever want to be that, you think

“Did…something happen?”, she asks eventually, frowning slightly, as if unsure about her words

She really isn’t sure about this, or how to go about this, and just hopes her awkward words come out right

For once, she wishes she was a little more like Daniela and could effortlessly keep this conversation up and ask whether you’re alright without this awkwardness

You gulp, pulled from your thoughts

It’s a little unusual to see her like this- so…out of her element, almost

Still, you treasure her company, and see what she’s doing

“I’m fine”, you lie, pressing your eyes shut and refusing to whimper

You don’t want to lie to her

You want to tell her all about it, want to even throw your arms around her and cry

Bela’s just always had this aura about her that made you seek her favor and praise

At the same time, you don’t want to drive her away now, don’t want to “bother” her with your problems

She frowns, confused. Hearing your heart quickening and picking up the scent of your sweat, she’s hardly fooled by your answer

Only does she not quite understand why you’d lie. Especially to her

Instead, she does what she often does when her sisters lie to her and she sees through it. She stays quiet

You whimper as her golden eyes stay on you, a gentle gaze, but one that tells you she’s awaiting your response and giving you the opportunity to correct yourself

And, wise enough, you do so

You feel tears welling up in your eyes as you pull away the blankets and pull the hoodie covering you up just slightly, just enough to show her the small pouch at your belly from under your top

Alas, she doesn’t react, unsure what this means

While having been taught to express herself always, Bela is almost a stranger to insecurity- at the very least as it comes to her body

She’s never felt worried about the way she looks, paying little mind to it

You envy her

Then, just when you cover yourself up again, she asks again;

“Did something happen, little one?”

You crack

The nickname is enough for tears to run down your cheeks and- to your surprise- you feel her arm wrap around you

You’re pulled to her, sniffling

You pick up her scent, her elegant perfume and the metallic scent of blood lying underneath, only picked up this close to her

And briefly, just briefly, you have a dark thought, wishing she could just kill those that treated you so unfairly

With her arm around you, you feel impossibly safe- likely unlike most others that are this close to her

You begin to talk, begin to tell her of everything

Of the mockery, of the laughter

Of the little, stabbing comments made here and there

Of the looks

Of the mean glances and words

Of your insecurities and the growing feeling of anxiety and emptiness in you

And Bela?

She doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t talk. She only listens to you, humming occasionally to let you know you have her full attention

It’s a wonderful feeling

As you elaborate and cry a little more, she holds you tighter

She seems a little less awkward now, as if used to hold someone when they cry, and briefly you feel a strike of envy, wondering if there’s other maidens held by her and comforted like this. Then, the feeling fades when you figure; it must be Daniela, her younger sister, who you know cries easily from own experiences of holding and comforting the young woman after one of her episodes

You find, Bela offers the best hugs, though, and likely quite the rare ones

You stay close to her, breathing out a sigh of relief when you finish talking

It’s almost like speaking about it helped

She doesn’t quite understand their behavior, writes it off to the general behavior of scum

She finds, as such, they deserve to be treated just as certain way, too

You’re granted another day of staying in your room until Bela insists you return to work

More surprisingly, though, you find a maid, one of the newer ones, a little shy, but friendly, bring you a meal three times a day that day

She doesn’t say a thing, too nervous in the castle still, but you’re certain she was tasked to do so by Bela

And when you do return to work, anxious and dressed in slightly bigger clothes than normal, as if you could hide away, you find no trace of those who mocked you

Perhaps wickedly, you wonder what happened to them, whether they’ve been dragged away, killed, mauled, toyed with my the sadistic Dimitrescu sisters

Whether Bela in particular killed them. Is killing them. Is hurting them

But it’s like they never even existed, instead

You hear no screams at night. No whispers of what might have happened at all

It’s almost like your problems dissolved into thin air…

And you know you have none other than Bela Dimitrescu to thank for it

#cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #platonic anon

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midoriima · 1 year ago

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TEAM 7 HEADCANONS (original - shippuden - boruto)

— ORIGINAL

- oohh they love to gossip, it's one of their favorite pastimes when they have to stick around but aren't on missions or anything important.

- naruto has a ton of gossip but sakura's got the spiciest ones. once in a while, sasuke has some too and they're always good.

- naruto and sakura definitely have a handshake, naruto too with sasuke but it took some time to convince him to cooperate. they still do those handshakes even when they're older.

- if kakashi isn't around, sakura is the mediator between naruto and sasuke. they won't admit it but they rely on her during difficult times when neither of the two can articulate what he feels, and vice versa.

- you can't tell me these three don't look up to kakashi as a father figure. he definitely makes sure they eat well, especially naruto, considering his diet of cup noodles. he definitely has a sense for these things too and brings stuff (food, cleaning supplies/ products, etc.) to them personally or put them by their door.

- when missions ran late, the team often stayed at each other's houses or at kakashi's. in the mornings, it was usually sakura to wake up first and early and she'd cook breakfast and always with care and love in her cooking. when they're over at kakashi's, he's the one to do it and some other times sasuke wakes up at the same time as him and helps him out.

- speaking of that, once it's time to eat, kakashi makes it a point to mention that sasuke helped out in a teasing tone but he'd always deny that he did because apparently it's embarrassing.

- naruto has the best taste for seasonings but just can't cook without it being charred for the life of him.

- naruto and sasuke rival and get so mad just at seeing each other because they know of each other's lives. they hate to see someone else experiencing the same loneliness they feel but can't articulate it and can't express their empathy in a more, let's say, caring (?) way.

— SHIPPUDEN

- sasuke is actually really good at giving advice and naruto? have a seat somewhere serene with him and he can give some of the best advice too. let's not forget sakura too, if anything, she's the key to opening the hearts and minds of sasuke and naruto about each other.

- when sasuke came back? oh damn, there was a stench coming off from him. he's meticulous and definitely does wash but with the lack of actual stuff to keep him clean? he was bound to stink a bit...

- after sasuke came back, both naruto and sakura definitely set up plans together to get the team back together. like, spontaneous hang outs and whatnot. sasuke won't admit it but he loved it, it made him feel loved and accepted despite everything. he felt right at home.

- with their efforts to rebuild their bond, sasuke often feels regret and wishes he could turn back time. he knows that despite how inconvenient, it was still necessary for his improvement but if he could retain all his memories and turn back time, he definitely would. he wishes to have the years returned just to spend time more time with this team because only now did he realize how much they cared for him and how much he needed them and not his hatred or revenge.

- sakura set up a short but sufficient training schedule for naruto and sasuke in basic medical ninjutsu so that if ever it's needed and she or another medic's not around, they can handle emergencies.

- speaking of basic medical ninjutsu... naruto sucked so bad the first few sessions and sasuke got the hang of it by the second or third time. they still banter about it to this day.

- some would call it toxic but they have a really good and strong bond because they understand and accept each other. it took a while for sakura to understand and empathize with their loneliness and once she did, she was definitely more kinder to naruto and understanding with sasuke.

- naruto and sasuke are too prideful to admit they think of the team as family but sakura does openly convey this and they "refuse" to but they actually really do. kakashi keeps quiet but he feels the same way too.

- teasingly, naruto often tells them he loves them in their groupchat. like this: "i loveeee youuuu guys soooo muchhh og fam4eva 🥰🤗🤪🫰🏻🙏🏻🤞🏻🤘🏻❤️💗💞" and sasuke would reply with, "🤦🏻‍♂️"

- sasuke went through this emo phase to cope like, listening to rock and metal, bands like deftones, mcr, ptv, etc. because the songs speak to his emotions more than he could ever articulate them. he kept this a secret though until one day naruto stopped by his place and heard the music coming from the room, sasuke gets bullied for this every time naruto remembers.

- naruto and sakura's cooking competitions with sasuke as the reluctant judge.

- deep talks under a starry night 🙏🏻

- they spend the holidays together, especially holidays like thanksgiving and christmas since those are usually the times you'd be with family but since they're without their parents, they've formed a makeshift family within their team (parallel universe sakura).

- sakura will still make it a point to spend a lot of time during those major holidays with the team too (original timeline).

— BORUTO

- naruto and hinata used to visit each other a lot at their homes when they were still dating and a lot of their dates would be cooking together. since then and after marrying hinata, his cooking skills have greatly improved.

- even though they're all adults now, they definitely still look up to kakashi as this, like, father figure. subconsciously, kakashi still brings to them stuff but just few things here and there.

- naruto and sakura plan meet up's with the team once in a while, kakashi finds it somewhat a hassle yet still goes to every single one of them. sasuke rarely initiates but when he does, it's always "discreet." like, "hey, you guys free? we could go [somewhere at some time] if you want" and not, "let's go to [somewhere at some time]" (if you get what i mean?)

- kakashi still mentors the three. mostly not about missions or whatever but things in life and the being in the present kind of things because they didn't really get to have that you know? they were busy busy and stressed as kids.

- by this time, they all have accepted that they really do think of each other as family and tell each other that. (i think it's really sweet 😭)

- kakashi's pranks will never cease to exist

- speaking again of holidays, they spend it together as well. especially new year's, they get together to celebrate it because it's just better with a big family around.

naruto brain rotting so hard rn. my tiktok fyp is literally all naruto, from the original series to boruto.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #boruto #uzumaki naruto #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #kakashi hatake #naruto x reader #sasuke x reader #sakura x reader #headcanons #naruto headcanons #naruto shippuden headcanons #naruto shippuden x reader #boruto headcanons #(sy - 物語)#team 7 #team 7 naruto #kakashi x reader

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jadekissedagirl · 4 months ago

Note

What are your headcanons about Jori and their relationship?

Thanks for asking, anon

Despite being the more collected and responsible one, Tori isn't a morning person, and her mornings are usually filled with Jade playfully tormenting her until she finishes her routines. Jade likes that side of her, though, and she teases her to see her let out some of the frustration that she tries to hide

Jade is always finding new ways to get under her skin, but has a few tactics that she can fall back on when those don't work

They go to concerts together all of the time, but their genres of choice are very different. Despite that, they still love going and are eager to spend time with each other. (also jade secretly likes pop but she would never admit that)

Tori cooks, Jade cleans (she finds it therapeutic, and sometimes finds spiders which she loves)

i think their relationship, while obviously not perfect, would be much more healthy because jade is comfortable going to tori with her problems, and i think she'd be willing to hear tori out on situations that she'd normally be more apprehensive in

Tori has to treat Jade like a dog every time she introduces her to someone, giving the whole "she doesn't bite" shpeal and trying to reassure that they're safe around her (they're not)

Jade orders fast food whenever she's feeling especially lazy, but tori won't eat it so she just cooks her own food

Jade is a successful film director and always tries to fit tori into her projects

Jade has no filter in public and will openly say the most inappropriate stuff, much to tori's dismay 😭

She still does the impression to this day

Their house is a cacophony of scents because jade prefers harsher scents and tori prefers softer and fruity ones. Scent pods and air fresher in every room, and they claim them depending on who spends more time there

Tori has probably had to talk Jade down from fighting people if we're being honest

One of those people is trina. constantly.

They compliment each other constantly, but Jade's are almost always either backhanded or hidden in another statement. Tori sees through it though, and there are times where she'll just come out and say it openly.

Jade gets better at hiding it, but she still gets flustered whenever tori compliments her

They have a big dog and jade keeps whatever spiders she can find while cleaning to look over (tori hates it though)

I think tori is a liberal and jade is a leftist, so they have a few disagreements, especially with things like law enforcement (with tori's dad being a cop). it bothers jade but they mutually agreed to move past it because it doesn't change their relationship

They BULLY any man that even attempts to hit on either of them (although that one is basically canon lmao)

Jade is pretty lonely, but that makes her cherish her time with tori even more.

They go to parties together and drink. Tori doesn't drink much, since she doesn't think it's necessary, but she's a super lightweight and Jade usually has to nurse her through her hangovers

Tori really needs to be coddled while she's sick, while jade usually just tries to tough it out, which extends the sickness until tori can convince her to chill out

This list is getting pretty long so i'll cut it short lmao, hope these are fine <33

#also jade isn't allowed to drive. she gets road rage.#jade west #victorious #jori #tori vega #jade victorious #sapphic #wlw #victorious hcs #jori hcs #asks

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aliceintheworld · 9 months ago

Text

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shoudn't be watching a man undressing, specially not from the house next door."

Warning: Very cute Jungkook 🥰, tipsy behaviour, homosexual relationship, deep conversations, the Reader starts to lose their shyness 🥹, kisses, fluff, and a lot of fluff 😻

A/N: Hi, I'm back. This week has been very hard, and I thought coming here would be a way to distance myself from reality 😭 In the last chapter, we saw that Jungkook had a romantic relationship with Namjoon. I received some comments saying they won't read my story anymore and that I ruined it, because of that. I am a very insecure person. This is the first time I'm posting something I've written, and honestly, I don’t know what to think. The boys are very important to me, and I don’t want to offend any of them (or anyone else). If necessary, I will remove everything I’ve written and just move on. Please leave your opinion in the comments. Other than that, thank you very much for the positive messages. I’m very happy to know that a good part of those who are here with me are enjoying it. Thank you so much.

Previous chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 6

My week passed slowly and calmer than I imagined. I worked and studied as always, and fortunately, I passed my semester exams. My mind was always in another dimension, but I held back and did my best not to let Jungkook affect me. Or the thoughts of him, which were insistent and continuous. I didn’t see him anymore, at his mother’s house or anywhere I went. As soon as I got to my room that morning, I received a message from an unknown number, which I knew was him, asking if I was okay and if I was safe. I replied yes and then I didn’t send any more messages, even when he asked what I would do on Wednesday and if I wanted to meet him somewhere.

Unlike last week, feeling embarrassed, I didn’t visit Mrs. Jeon as much as I would have liked, afraid to see Jungkook and be confronted. At times, I wanted to tell her what happened, to vent to someone and express how confused I am, even though she is his mother, but I held back and didn’t say anything, knowing that the torment in my head doesn’t go away because I want him back, with me, and I know that venting in this case doesn’t help at all.

I have always been submissive to my mother and thought of her before anything else. Before myself, it comes her. It has always been this way, as if it were engraved in my brain or I were programmed that way. Jungkook may not understand, but that’s the truth. That’s why I can’t relax around him. I find myself in conflict with what I desire and what I know she would want. I have never disobeyed Eunji, let alone considered that idea. I know she wouldn’t approve of Jungkook, for a million reasons, so I am aware that if I were honest with her and admitted my feelings, there would be a conflict between us that I know I am not prepared to start.

My mother has been stricter with me as the days have passed, and I know it’s because the date of my father’s death is approaching. I try to please her in every way I can, as a way of compensation. I went to church more times than normal, worked at the bazaar, and even cooked so she wouldn’t have to. I don’t like hiding anything from her and I feel guilty in a way for lying that day. Our mother-daughter relationship has been like this my whole life, somewhat cold and strange; since I was a child, I took on her pains and tried to put her needs ahead of mine.

Today was very busy. I helped a classmate with her college exams, since unfortunately, she didn’t do well in the final tests, and I worked twice as hard because those who don’t study, always get desperate in the university library, trying to learn what they didn’t study the entire semester. I had to organize the same books thousands of times and barely had time to eat or go to the bathroom.

I got home dead tired but fulfilled. The college assignments are ready and the tests are done. At least the worries I felt about college are no longer a problem; one less thing to stress about. I grab a romance book to read, and flip through the pages with pleasure, curious to see if the main character will finally confess her feelings. I’m halfway through the chapter, engrossed in continuing, when my phone vibrates. I look at the screen without much attention, accepting the call without knowing who it is.

“Y/N?” I hear a hoarse voice on the other end of the line, and my body instantly tingles. I take the phone from my ear and sit up in bed, flustered. It’s Jungkook

I remain silent, not knowing what to say.

“Y/N? Are you there?” he asks. I consider the possibility of saying nothing, and just letting him think I answered the phone by accident, but I can’t. I want to talk to him; I want to know how he is. I miss him.

“Jungkook, I’m here.” I say; my voice trembling without much strength. I swallow hard, nervous. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” He murmurs. There’s another moment of silence; only his heavy breathing filling the sound of the call.

“That’s good.” I force a smile, even though he can’t see me. I shake my head, grabbing a strand of my hair.

“I wanted... I wanted to see you.” He says softly, in a whisper, and my already agitated heart beats even faster. Butterflies fill my stomach, the way I can’t help it.

“Jungkook, I can’t.”

“You can, and I know you want to.” He asserts, with so much confidence, it’s as if he knows all my thoughts. “I want to be with you. We don’t need to do anything. We can just talk, watch something together. I need to be with someone.”

“Did something happen?” I ask, worried. I bite my lower lip, waiting for his answer.

“Yes... a person. One that I’m trying to get rid of, has been trying to get close. I don’t want that.” He replies. I don’t understand anything he says. Is it a friend? Did he have a falling out with someone?

“We can talk on the phone.” I suggest. For some reason, I feel safer when there’s a big space between us. I think the fact that he’s far from me, gives me the false sense that I’m in control of the situation.

“Are you that afraid of me?” He chuckles. I smile in response, shrugging.

“You said you wanted to talk. We’re talking.”

“How difficult you are.” He sighs, teasing me. “Don’t you miss me at all?”

“Jungkook!” I scold him. I’m breathless just from the question.

“It’s serious. I told you that you needed time to think, but I didn’t imagine you wanted to stay away from me, while you decided.”

“It’s just that everything is very complicated.”

“I feel used.” He jokes again, making me grin. “You used my body and now you don’t even want to look at my face.”

“You’re making me embarrassed.” I grunt, laughing awkwardly. My cheeks turns red with the memories of us in his bed. Him sucking me, fingering me, making me come. My God, it feels like that happened years ago, not just a few days.

“Sorry. I know, I shouldn’t say those things. But I really wanted to see you. Can’t you come here?” he asks, his voice dragging. I furrow my brows, suspicious.

“Did you—Jungkook, have you been drinking?”

“Just a little.” He chuckles on the call. Now everything makes sense. He wouldn’t call me if he were sober. If he were completely sane, he would seek out one of his friends to vent. I sigh, throwing myself onto the bed.

“I’m going to hang up, okay?”

“Wait! Don’t hang up! Why are you doing this? Did I do something?”

“Because you’re drunk.” I finally say, a little upset. Would he want to call me if it weren’t for the alcohol? The doubt makes me uncomfortable.

“I’m not drunk Y/N, I swear. I just drank a little. I’m 100% aware of the things I’m telling you.” Jungkook argues desperately, as if he’s afraid I’ll hang up at any moment. I sigh again, closing my eyes.

“Where are you?” I ask, and almost immediately, regret it. Whether he’s drunk or not, it’s not my problem. Jungkook is an adult and knows very well what he’s doing. He’s not your father, a voice in my head says.

“I’m at my apartment. You know the address. I just didn’t pick you up because I drank; otherwise, I’d already be at your door.”

“Please, don’t do that!” I widen my eyes, just imagining the scene. My father died in a car accident because he was drunk and didn’t know what he was doing. Besides being dangerous, my mother isn’t stupid, and if she realizes I have any involvement with him because he came to pick me up, I’m screwed.

“Then come over. I even bought Mexican food.” He says softly, almost pleading. I roll my eyes and grunt, irritated with myself and with him. Why can’t I resist him? For fuck sake!

“Okay, I’ll try. But we’re just going to talk, watch something, and then I’ll go back. We’re not going to do anything else besides that!” I assure, more to myself, afraid that the same thing will happen as last Sunday.

“Okay. I swear I’ll try to control myself.” He mocks again. I smirk, covering my mouth. I like the normal Jungkook, but him being drunk... it’s like he’s himself, but lighter and funnier.

“Alright, I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”

“Send me your location on your phone.” He asks. I mumble in agreement, and then he hangs up. I stare at my ceiling for a good few seconds, not believing it. Why am I doing this? Why am I going to his apartment? Where is this going to lead me?

When I was a little girl, I liked to imagine myself with kids, a husband, and a part-time job. I have always been very romantic; I never wanted to be with someone unless it was forever. At the same time, every time I think of Jungkook, none of that matters. He doesn’t want something serious, from what it seemed when he talked to his friends, and yet I can’t get him out of my head. I do things I would never do, and recklessly, I don’t measure the consequences of my actions. I quickly get out of bed and pace back and forth in my room. My mom is home, maybe in the living room. It’s already nine o’clock on a Friday night, and there’s nothing I can say to her that would convince her to let me go out.

At the same time, I told her an hour ago that I wasn’t going to have dinner and that I would sleep after a shower. She hasn’t been to my room since then. Maybe if I sneak out the window and call a taxi, she won’t even notice I left the house. I bite my lip, nervous. I decide to lock my bedroom door just for safety and simultaneously, put some pillows underneath my blanket, forming the silhouette of what was supposed to be my body. I grin nervously, not knowing what to do. I’ve never run away from home, and the only experience I have consists of teen movies and series. I have no idea if this is really going to work.

I change my clothes for a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt when I realize it’s colder outside, and I open my window. I sneak out with little skill along the balcony, and the bars that accompany the wall, until I reach the grass in my backyard. I tiptoe, trying not to make noise with my sneakers. I walk down my street somewhat breathlessly, pondering the idea of turning back and forgetting that Jungkook even called me. At the same time, I want to see him again. Without thinking too much, I call the taxi, which arrives quickly at my address.

The whole journey takes about ten minutes and simultaneously passes in the blink of an eye. My hands get sweaty as I recognize some places and establishments still open. I sigh, looking at my phone. There are no messages from my mother, only one from Jungkook, saying he’s tracking me via GPS. I smile, feeling a bit more secure. A wave of anxiety, heat, and uncertainty washes over me tough, when I arrive in front of the building of the man who, since I met him, has been haunting my head.

I open the car door and take a moment to look at the facade of the place, something I didn’t have much time to do last time. It’s beautiful, full of flowers and a spectacular garden. I walk along the sidewalk, still not knowing what to do, when I finally see him. Jungkook must have gone down to the lobby without me noticing, and he watches me with a smile on his face, so innocent and anxious that, amidst all this chaos, I’m glad I came. He walks up to me with disheveled and wet hair, perhaps from a recent shower he must have taken, wearing a black and white striped pajama; one of those you only wear in the comfort of your home.

I smile, unable to help it, vulnerable, energized and anxious. “I was worried about you, so I came down.” He comments, getting closer to me.

A scent of perfume, soap, and shaving foam envelops me deeply. My stomach churns again. If I thought hearing his voice made me unstable, seeing him in person completely breaks me. I don’t say a word, still mesmerized by his presence.

“You didn’t pay for the taxi, did you? I came down like a madman when I saw you had arrived.” He tells me. I shake my head in denial. He smiles again and walks over to the driver’s window. He takes the money from his wallet and returns to me as if this were routine and I visited him every day. He smiles one more time, taking steps towards me. “I told you I wasn’t drunk. Tipsy? Yes. Drunk, no.”

“Okay. You’re not. Sorry.” I grin awkwardly, looking down.

“You don’t need to apologize. Come with me; it’s too cold here, and I don’t want you to catch a cold.” He concludes, putting one of his arms around my shoulder, in an intimate touch that brings back memories of the night we were together. I follow him without much questioning, until we reach the elevator.

Inside the metal box, the tension rises. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, trying to stay calm. I don’t need to be nervous. We’re going to talk, whatever it is he wants to say, and then I’ll go back home the same way I left, through my bedroom window. I lean my head against the wall, staring at the mirror that surrounds the elevator walls. The energy of his gaze burns me. He looks at me in a way that leaves me breathless. I swallow hard, not having the courage to reciprocate. It’s as if time has stopped and only we two exist. When I decide to say something, the elevator stops.

He guides me to enter his apartment, and a mountain of memories takes over me immediately. I chuckle in disbelief, covering my face with my hand. If my mother finds out I’m here, I don’t like to think about what could happen. I sit quietly on the couch, observing the place. It all seems the same as last time, except for Jungkook’s friends who filled the environment. Now it’s like there’s too much space, just the two of us here. I lick my dry lips, organizing my hair back, behind my shoulders.

“Are your friends okay?” I ask, trying to talk about things that aren’t about him and me. That for a few minutes, we can pretend that night never happened.

“They are.” He smiles at me, shrugging. “They’re planning a party to celebrate my studio when it’s ready. You’re definitely invited.” He says, sitting next to me. He touches the piercing on his eyebrow with his fingertips, and tosses his dark, soft hair back.

“When’s the celebration party going to be?” I ask, placing my hands on my lap, afraid to touch him. He’s so close that I can fully see the moles around his neck. The Adam’s apple moving every time he talks and swallows.

“I don’t know. There’s still so much to do, but I can’t stay in Busan because I left everything in Seoul to come here. At the same time, I can’t neglect my mom. It’s like I need several versions of myself to handle everything. Just one Jungkook isn’t enough, I think.” He chuckles, but gazing into his big eyes, I find no humor at all. I can’t imagine what it must be like for him to have his mother in this situation and live so far from her. He must be exhausted and worn out.

“When do you plan to go back to Seoul?” I ask, afraid of the answer.

“In about a month and a half, maybe.” He shrugs, biting his lower lip.

“Wow!” I say, surprised. I didn’t expect it to be so soon. He returns my gaze, confused. “I mean, it’s not long until you go back.” I smile, feigning an excitement I don’t feel, awkward.

“Yes, that’s true. I wish I could stop time right now. That would be the best superpower of all.” Jungkook laughs, forming a dimple in his cheek that I had never noticed he had. He rolls his eyes at himself, grunting. “Sorry, every time I drink something, I say these stupid things.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” I chuckle, a little more relaxed. He has this power over me, making me tense and calm at the same time.

“You know, I wanted to ask you something.” He comments, putting his feet on the couch.

“You can ask.”

“Promise you won’t get embarrassed?” He asks, grinning. I shake my head, rolling my eyes.

“I can’t promise that because I don’t know what the question is.”

“Oh, come on!? You always make that face when I talk to you.” He chuckles, teasing me. I shake my head, not understanding.

“What face? What are you talking about?”

“That face. You puff your cheeks because you’re blushing and look away all the time.” He clarifies. My cheeks turn red instantly, making him grin again. I cover my face, embarrassed.

“I can’t control that. Just ask your question, please.” I plead, somewhat awkwardly. He stops grinning and clears his throat, leaving me even more curious.

“I just wanted to know why... why didn’t you answer me that day? Why have you been avoiding me? Why didn’t you go to my mom’s house these days?”

“How do you know I didn’t visit your mom?” I retort, feeling a tingling in my hands, nervous.

“I know because I asked her.” He murmurs, and this time, he’s the one who turns red, as if he didn’t expect my question and feels uncomfortable answering. “After that night, I thought I’d see you again, that we could talk, but you never showed up again.”

“You didn’t show up either.” I defend myself, but I know my stupid argument makes no sense. Jungkook rolls his eyes, looking at me in such a deep way that I find myself breathless, for a good few seconds.

“Seriously Y/N. Did I do something? Did I hurt you in some way?”

“Do you think you did something to me? Is that what you’ve been thinking?”

“I understood it that way, and I’m afraid that it might be true. I don’t want to hurt you, not at all. You’ve helped my mom and have been so good to me. I don’t want to make you feel bad.” He assures again, without stopping. I close my eyes, angry with myself. Is that what I led him to believe when I didn’t respond to his message? When I was cold, did I upset him?

“Jungkook, you didn’t hurt me. Not at all, not in any way. You need to know that.” I affirm in the best way I can, breathless. “I’m like this. That’s why I don’t have friends; that’s why I don’t have people I can count on, because I push everyone away. This is a problem with me, not with you.”

“And why do you do that?” He questions, relaxing his body on the couch. He looks me in the eyes, and even though I try to look away, I can’t. He stare at me in such an intense way that it’s as if he can see my soul. I play with my fingers, not knowing what to do, disconcerted.

“I don’t want to get hurt. Because human relationships are difficult and unstable. Because when you let someone get close, you give them the power to hurt you, and I don’t want that to happen.”

“I know. I understand, and I don’t judge you.” He shakes his head. “So many things have happened in the last few months. I wanted to talk to someone during these days, and incredibly, the only person that came to my mind was you.”

I widen my eyes in surprise. I turn my attention to his face, but he’s distant, staring at something beyond the ceiling of his apartment. It’s as if he’s far away in thoughts and not in this moment, with me. I bite the inside of my cheek, touched. Him thinking of me, even if it’s just to vent, moves me. I like Jungkook. I truly like him, since the first time I saw him. Not just his body or his appearance, but the way he talks to me, as if I were someone worth listening to.

“You, Y/N, did something to me. Since that night, I can’t think of anything else, and I don’t know why.” He confesses, finally returning his face to me. My breathing becomes erratic, my heart races, and my hands get sweaty. “I also, that night, was confused. Just like you.”

“How so?” I ask, speechless.

“I don’t want you to be upset. I want to be honest with you.” He says. He puts one of his big, soft hands close to my face and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. I feel that wherever his touch passes, my skin burns. “Before coming to Busan, I had a serious relationship. Very serious.”

“You were with someone?” I ask, afraid to find out he still has something with that person.

“Yes.” He says softly. His breath close enough of me to feel it. “It was so serious that I swore he would be the person I would marry. I had never dated anyone besides him. I had never fallen in love, not that way.” He speaks, confessing to me, and my throat tightens. Does Jungkook like men? He had a relationship with someone of the same sex? For some reason, I never imagined the inked guy could be attracted to the male gender. Still, what really bothers me is when I hear him say he loved him. Does he still love him? Does he still think about him, when he’s alone?

“And then it ended, and everything I believed was shattered.” He shakes his head, and then chuckles without any humor. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I really don't. It’s just that when I’m with you, I feel light. I love my friends, I truly do, but when I’m with you, I feel comfortable, as if you wouldn’t judge me.”

“I wouldn’t judge you for anything, Jungkook.” I say softly and somehow, he can hear me. He smiles too, a little embarrassed.

“You know, after I ended my relationship and then that happened with my mom, I thought I was in a nightmare. All the people I could count on would simply disappear, and I couldn’t do anything, as if my hands were tied.”

“I know what you mean.” I comment, remembering my father. Not his last moments, drunk and a stranger. Those moments, from before, when he was the man I was proud to call my father. The man I knew I could count on, because he was always by my side.

“Tell me a little about you, Y/N. I feel like I’m just talking about myself. I really want to know you more. Listen to you.” He suggests. I raise my eyebrow, surprised.

“I don’t have anything to say.” I chuckle awkwardly.

“Of course you do. Everyone has something to say.” He argues, shaking his head. “Tell me about your life. Have you always lived in Busan?”

“Yes, I’m from Busan.” I reply, smiling slightly. “When I was younger, I went to the beach every weekend because I lived closer to the coast.”

“Really? I’ve never been to the beach.” He says, shrugging. I open my mouth, astonished.

“It’s so strange to hear that. I always went when I was a kid. For some reason, after I moved, I never did again.” I sigh, nostalgic. The things I used to enjoy a few years ago simply lost meaning, when my father died and my mother became the woman she is now.

“Why don’t you go back to the beach once in a while? It’s not that far from here.”

“I don’t know why; I just don’t go. I forgot that I missed it until I started talking to you.” I smile genuinely this time. He returns the smile, nibbling on his rosy lips that I like so much.

“Maybe we could go to the beach together. I to get to know it, and you to reconnect.” He suggests with a light and sincere smile, and my stomach, a little calmer, fills with butterflies again.

“Maybe.” I agree, not knowing if that would actually be possible. Who knows, in the future, or at some other moment. I don’t want to dismiss that possibility when it seems so sweet and inviting. I sigh, looking at the screen of my phone. It’s almost eleven o’clock. I know I have to go home. Jungkook seems to realize my doubt and makes a pout with his lips, almost like a spoiled child who didn’t get what he wanted. "I think I must go."

“We should eat first. I ordered tacos and burritos, and if everything gets cold, the food loses fifty percent of its flavor.” He says, already getting up, not giving me much opportunity to contest. I get up too, rolling my eyes.

“That’s another one of your theories? Like that one of having four meals a day?” I ask, finding it funny. I follow him into his kitchen, watching him take the Mexican food out of some containers. It looks so appetizing and seasoned that my mouth waters.

“My mom was really cruel when I was younger.” Jungkook laughs. He frowns, with that same expression he always makes when he sees something delicious, then looks at me, bringing a taco closer to my mouth. “The first bite has to be yours.”

“You can eat it. You seem hungrier than I am.” I reply, teasing. He pretends to look angry and shakes his head, as if I just said the most nonsensical thing in the world.

“I’m a gentleman. I insist.” He brings the taco closer to my mouth again, and with no alternative, I bite the food he offers me with such insistence. The spicy flavor brings such a rich explosion to my tongue that I can’t help but like it. I must have done something funny tough, because Jungkook smile, in a delightful chuckle that I had never heard coming from him.

“The corner of your mouth is dirty.” He explains in a whisper, pointing to my lower lip. I try to clean it by myself, but I seem to be unsuccessful, as he himself wipes the sauce off my skin with his thumb. I take a few seconds to realize how close he is to me, naturally intoxicating me. I can smell his perfume. His energy that brings electricity to my body. How much my skin longs for him. I want to kiss him again. To feel his lips, just like I did in this same kitchen that morning.

Jungkook seems to understand exactly what I’m thinking because he smiles that loose and careless smirk, as if he knows what I want and is waiting for me to make the first move.

“If you want to kiss me, I give you all my permission. I’m serious.” He jokes, but doesn’t laugh. His dark, big doe-eyes go toward my mouth and I see desire; feelings I had never seen directed at me. I swallow hard, nervous.

“I can’t, Jungkook. My mom, she...” I whisper, trying to organize my thoughts. He smiles, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.

“Forget about your mom, Y/N. Do you want this?” He questions softly. I nod my head. He knows I want to, I want it so badly that it’s as if I’m going to die. “If that’s what you want, do it! Screw what your mom thinks. Just do it.”

“I promised myself I wouldn’t do anything when I came here.” I tell him, chuckling nervously.

“It seems you can’t stay away from me. After that night, I don’t want to stay away from you either.” He denies, closing his eyes. “This week was hell... I don’t want to feel alone. Do you feel the same as I do?”

“I do.” I agree, and without thinking much, I kiss him.

His warm lips touch mine, and if I could save this moment in my head and make copies, I would. Unlike the first night I was here, Jungkook is calmer, less desperate. It’s as if he has time to be with me and wants to enjoy every second. I feel his hands on my waist, pulling me towards him until I’m completely fused to his body. I grunt when his tongue requests entry inside my mouth, and I can’t stop him, nor do I want to. I pull at his hair, feeling its softness, in a pleasant caress at the nape of his neck. He smiles during the kiss, moaning. He slowly separates from me, holds my cheeks with both hands, and seals our lips once again, in short pecks that spread across my entire face. I chuckle when one of them touches my jawline, tickling me.

“Stop, please!” I burst out laughing when he continues, kissing my forehead, nose, and finally, my lips again.

“I'm only stopping because I need to breathe.” He laughs with me, finally ceasing.

“Ok, clingy boy, I really need to go now.” I mock disheartened, trying to disentangle myself from him. He stops me, kissing me again.

“Please, don’t go.”

“I have to go. Seriously.”

“It’s too early.” He argues, caressing my face with his thumb.

“What happened to you, Jungkook? Why are you being so dramatic?” I question, curious. He’s different. A good different, but I can’t understand him. Does he want something serious with me? He doesn’t love the person he was in a serious relationship with, anymore? There are so many questions in my head that I feel lost.

“I'm not being dramatic. I like you, Y/N.” He assures me as if it were the most obvious thing, with those dark, big eyes, so pure... I simply can’t explain why, I just believe him.

“You do?” I ask, smiling. No one ever said that to me. A good feeling fills me; my cheeks turn red as he nods his head.

“I like. I thought you knew.” He says simply. And then peck me again. “Come on, before you go, you’re going to eat with me.”

“Okay, but I need to be quick. It’s getting really late.” I say, worried about my mom; the fact that she might find out I left the house.

“I’ll accompany you in the taxi. I’m not letting you go alone. Then I can come back here.”

“Really?” I ask. He chuckles, pulling my hand until I sit in the chair. “Then okay. Let's eat. And Jungkook?"

"What?"

"I like you too." I say, seeing his small and cute smile

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