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jeon-ify · 3 months

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request from the deranged @haohaoshoe

for your own sake, 18+.

carved into you- levi ackerman 🩶

“DOM DOM DOM ASF LEVI ACKERMAN WHO LITERALLY THREATENS ME TO CUT MY THROAT OFF AND CARVES HIS INITIALS INTO ME OR SMTH LIKE THAT

also make me a deranged masochist who follows him like a good girl

and a lot of slapping

i’m his dumpster

he can use me as a fuckdoll

also

a lot of hair pulling

big dick levi

belt as a whip

tie as restraints”

…….

i have no words. here we go!!

—————————————————————————————

“no, we’ve been broken up for the past month now.” in response to your peers who are asking about your ex boyfriend levi, you sigh a breath of “relief” knowing that you don’t have to put up with his toxic psychotic behavior again.

“girl, who broke up with who?” she responds in shock. “are you sure you and levi broke up? it doesn’t seem like it. he’s still posting pictures at your favorite cafe.”

“honestly, y/f/n, i don’t care. i’m over him.”

“apparently, he’s not over you.”

“that’s embarrassing.” you burst out into laughter, your friend playfully slapping your shoulder.

you pull out your phone, blocking him from all socials. the last thing you need is him trying to win you back when you’re the one that left him.

you leave the party after a while. you step out of the front door of the unfamiliar house, seeing a very familiar black rolls royce in front of the house. you see levi step out of the car, standing against the door.

“get in the car, y/n.”

you burst out a laugh, in disbelief that he has the nerve to follow you here.

“you’re fucking delusional, levi.” you spit. you want him to go away, but you already feel your heart bursting from excitement that he’s here, and for more than one reason alone.

to show you that he’s not going anywhere, and neither were you. for as long as you’re living, you’re his to have. and god help anyone who took you from him.

“careful how you speak to me, y/n. you don’t wanna make a choice you’ll regret, hm?” he tilts his head, exploring and questioning your choice of words.

your feet move as if they have a mind of their own, drawn in by the sound of his deep voiced command. your skin crawls with arousal, levi shooting daggers into your legs with his eyes as you walk up to the passenger side of his expensive car while you just stand there with your arms crossed over your chest.

“get in the car, y/n.” he demands.

with no response, his voice grows louder, “get in the fucking car.”

you don’t hesitate to follow his direction, immediately getting into the passenger’s seat.

“where are we going?”

“you’ll see.”

as the car ride becomes longer, you wished you didn’t walk out of that party.

you both arrive to what you believe is his apartment, the building holding up to 30 floors and about 200 rooms on each floor.

“i’m not going down. what the fuck do you not understand about the part where we both said we were done? you’re fucking crazy, levi. if i wanted to be insane too, i would go to an asylum for fuck’s sake. leave me out of whatever sick act you have going on, cus im-“

you’re cut off by levi grabbing your wrist and dragging you with him up to his apartment. with one hand, he unlocks his door, tossing you into his bedroom.

“take your fucking clothes off. when you’re done, on your knees. mouth open, tongue out.”

he unbuttons the first half of his blouse, his silk chest peeking through the blouse. he takes his tie off, wrapping it around his knuckle and leaving the other half to hang. “levi, what are we-“ you’re cut off by a sharp slap to the left side of your face, earning a whimper from your soft throat.

“embarrassing? me still being in love with you is embarrassing? me putting it into your head that you were made for me and nobody else is fucking embarrassing to you, y/n? listen to me. no one will love you but me. do you understand me?” his voice raising, making it clear that you were in fact made for him.

“i don’t belong to you.” you mutter. you felt like he had a fucking magnetic field around you, you’re literally drawn to him no matter the circumstance. you’re lying to yourself. he can see right through your sick act. you’re both deranged, being attracted to his sick and psychotic possessive demeanor.

he bends down to your level, face to face with you as his hand reaches for his pocket, pulling out a black pocket knife. your heart sinks to your ass, afraid that he might actually slit your throat.

“yeah? why are you soaking my floors, then?” the knife pinches your jaw near your chin, forming a papercut-type of scar.

“why’d you get into my car when you could’ve said no? you could’ve called the cops on me, pretty girl.” he continues.

“just can’t stay away from me, can you?” he caresses your face, planting a soft kiss on your temple. your eyes roll back, sighing as his cock hardens in your gaze.

“please, levi, let me touch you.” you beg from beneath him, his eyes threatening to shut in arousal. thighs clenching, your neck veins become prominent in holding your moans in.

“look at you, you disgust me. close your eyes.” he tilts your head up and places his tie around your eyes, blindfolding you from seeing whatever he’s about to do to you.

“i’m sorry,” you gasp. using his knife, he runs it down the valley of your breasts.

“what do i have to do for you to understand that you belong to me?” he twists the knife slowly, poking your skin. you gasp as you feel your blood trickle down your stomach.

“i’ll fucking carve it all over your skin, hm? carve my initials into your pretty pearly skin. right here; L.A., what do you say?” his minty breath fanning in your face as he whispers, quietly but loud enough for you to hear.

“mmm,” you moan in pain, but wanting him to cut into you deeper, your arousal pooling beneath you and between your knees.

“should cut this little throat from the way you speak so ill of me. do you want that?” he grabs your throat, squeezing tightly.

“yeah? cut it then.” you choke out as your tears soak the tie in front of your eyes from the stinging pain. he chuckles from your masochism, making your legs wobble.

“you get me, good girl. we belong together. don’t you understand?” he whines out, almost pleading, but in the most demanding way.

he runs the end of the knife along your bare folds, rubbing circles on your clit. his cold hands contrast with the warmth of your pussy, earning whines from your throat. you hear his belt clanging as what you think he’s doing, landing a sharp whip to your thighs. your body jots as he hits you, making you cry out; your cheeks turning a flushed red.

“you get off on pain, but do you get off on embarrassing me? telling your bitch ass friends that i’m psychotic? i’ll show you psychotic, baby. stand up.” he undoes the tie from your eyes, your eyeliner smudged as he licks away your tears. you stand up as he looks away from you.

“levi,” your voice dry and your throat hitching from how much you’ve cried silently. your heart drops as he turns you around by your shoulders, as you sigh a deep breath of fear.

he brings the cold metal up to your back— the space between your shoulders, carving the letters L.A.. the cold air hits the open cut, making you wince in pain and pleasure.

“stop crying, shhh.” he runs his fingers through your hair, calming you down as he stabs into your skin, “gonna fuck you now, ‘kay?” he groans. you feel his almost solid length against your bare ass, anxious as to how he’ll fit you— given that you haven’t had sex in almost a year, and from how big he was.

he unzips his dress pants, knocking everything off of his dresser, bending you over the cold dark wood of his dresser. he brings his hand up to your hair, throwing your head back, then using his other hand to bring his belt up to your throat. he tightens the belt, using it as a leash, then pulling you up and wrapping the leftover space of the belt around his knuckle as he enters your hole.

“now, what were you,” he slams into your hips, “saying about me being embarrassing, hm?” he slams into you again, tightening the belt around your throat. you whimper in response, feeling the way his cock hits your cervix. again and again.

“you being in love with me is— hhhgh, embarrassing, levi. get over me!” you moan. he and you can feel yourself cumming already, already fucking you faster as you let yourself go.

“put that big ass mouth to use and tell me what the fuck you were made for, bitch.” he fucks you at an ungodly pace, your thighs shaking and ready to give out.

“f-for you to use! fuck, i can’t, please, it’s too much—“ your stomach and abs clench at the feeling of being used by your ex boyfriend, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“oh, but it wasn’t too much when you were begging me to cut you?” by surprise, he brings the pretty knife back up to your throat, almost slicing your skin open. you whimper in pleasure, clenching around him as the way he loses himself.

“fuck, you’re losing me, baby. keep clenching like that.” he groans, throwing his head back and pulling your bare back against his chest.

your legs shake as you push back onto him, fucking yourself on his twitching cock.

“yes! fuck, fuck fuck, feels so nice. wanna feel your pain, daddy.” you moan, laughing as you watch your reflection in the mirror— you’re just as sick as this fucker is.

“look at yourself. maybe you’re the psycho, pretty girl.”

“watch yourself cum. cum all over my cock, fuckin’ belongs to me. cover me in your cum.” he takes the belt off, licking at your cheeks and tasting your salty tears. you gasp, falling weak to his loose thrusts.

“take all my cum, fucking take what i give you like the bitch you are. there you go,”

he slows his thrusts, turning you around to fix your hair and make you “presentable” to go back home.

“look at that glow, guess i fucked you good, hm?”

“fuck you, levi.” you breathe.

“yeah?”

———

oh my god.

#levi ackerman #levi aot #levi x reader #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman smut #anime #aot #aot smut #aot x reader

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sarnai4 · 1 month

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The Dagala Dilemma

Dagur and Mala are two of my favorite characters. They're also my favorite couple in Dragons. That said, I don't like how RTTE handled the relationship.

These characters have one episode of interacting before they decided to get married (two if you include "Saving Shattermaster" where cloaked Dagur stopped the Hunters from attacking Mala and Throk. Too bad that was never mentioned. What a cute way to meet your future S.O!). Then one more, ONE more episode really which was when they announced the engagement. I don't think the very last episode counts for much because they didn't exchange lines. Just one line, then a kiss on the cheek. Somehow, we didn't even see these two kiss on the lips since Hiccup and Astrid decided to make out at the wedding instead.

It's a shame because I've seen a lot of people dislike this ship and I think that's a reason why. The show never tries to demonstrate how they work. Just argue, bond over the twins' mediation methods, then get engaged and married. Life is short, but...rushing that a little, you two. If Viking unions are forever, that's all the more reason you want to make sure you know someone. Even in the engagement episode, we didn't see them interact much. They announced it, then they pulled Dagur away to drop off metal. What's worse is that I really think they could go the distance (cue Hercules) with their relationship. I can genuinely see them growing old together, having happiness and some grandkids by then. You'd just never know from the show. Here's why I think it could work:

For starters, I love that it gives Dagur an opportunity to be around someone who doesn't know him as his bad self. He will always have to prove himself to the others. There's nothing he can do to make them forget who he was and they shouldn't. He killed an entire island of people. Dagur really was a villain. He's also really a better person who has put his life on the line for them several times, with or without them hating him. Mala gives him a clean slate. She doesn't peek think back on the time he almost killed her because he never did. In their entire time of knowing each other, he's been Dagur the Deranged, but he's also been a good guy. He doesn't have to try to stay on his best behavior to make her know he's better, he can just be himself.

Along with that, I think they'd be good influences on each other. Mala seems like the type who doesn't like to show much emotion. She is the unfazed, calm, and strong queen of the Defenders. She tries to contain what she's feeling. One of the examples of this that I loved was when the Riders first met her and she thought they stole the Great Protector. Mala is in such a state of rage that she breaks the arrow in one hand as she processes what happened. Hmm, rage. Wonder who understands that...

Dagur's a lot of things, but shy about his emotions isn't one of then. Even in the first gif with them together, we see Mala really happy and laughing. I don't think there's another time in the show where she's laughed at anything. I could see Dagur helping her realize that being strong and stone-like aren't the same. She can be furious, overjoyed, sad, or whatever else she's feeling and still an amazing leader worthy of respect. He'll just be there to help her through it.

Mala is also calm and strong enough to match Dagur. She's not going to cave to his idea of having the kids of the island start juggling swords. I could see her being patient and considerate by explaining which actions are potentially dangerous/harmful for someone. She wouldn't make him feel crazy or foolish either. She'd just help him as she learned to understand his mind. With her being less easy to anger, Mala could be the voice of reason while Dagur is trying to calm down. I could even see them doing meditating together.

They're also both violent. Mala was ready to KILL Hiccup and the others. She made that very clear. It's something they have in common that they both planned to kill the poor trainer who's on everyone's hit list. I think it's overlooked how ruthless she can be. This is perfect for Dagur. He can get some of his violence out as they do couple battling and Mala won't look at him like he's some monster. They'll be right at each other's side, killing whoever dared to get close.

So, I really think this is a couple that could work. I wish they got more screentime, but at least fanfics and headcanons can fill in the rest. And I still mad we didn't see them do the dance of blades, but I'll get over it...maybe.

#HTTYD #RTTE #Dagur #Mala #Dagala #Shouldn't have been treated like a joke #They're so cute in a violent way #I want to see the babies because I know they had at least 2

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ameliora-j · 7 months

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No cause I’ve always had a weird feeling about her but I wanna know why you hate Haley

cherry my love do NOT get me started i will start:

- she picked arguments with aaron bc he was… doing his job ???

- like she was literally SO MAD

- like yeah okay he’s always away from home fine

- but the man is catching serial killers????

- literally making the streets safer ?????

- for you ??? and your child ????

- lord forbid he gets a serial killer off the street

- GOD. FUCKING. FORBID.

- that he saves another woman from getting murdered ????

- ‘aaron those girls need you but i need you more!’

- more than literal VICTIMS????? of HEINOUS CRIMES?????

- haley brooks i’m on my hands and knees quite literally BEGGING you to get a grip

- PLEASE look past your self absorption and realize YOUR HUSBAND IS A GOOD MAN

- HE’S DOING GOOD THINGS ????

- and ur mad cus what????? he wasn’t home to do a 3am diaper change????

- woe is fucking me bitch PEOPLE ARE LITERALLY DYING!!!!!!!

- also this was never confirmed but it was alluded that she cheated on him/was cheating on him

- there’s a scene,, i can’t remember the exact episode,, but their house phone rings and aaron answers it

- he says ‘hello’ like twice and then the person hangs up

- immediately,, and i do so truly mean IMMEDIATELY

- haley’s cell phone rings ????

- and mr. profiler hotch has bells going off in his head. his ears perk up and he peeks over

- and it’s never said but we know

- we KNOW!!!! that she cheated

- and do not get me started on when they had to hide from foyett

- once again, i’m started:

- shorty was literally SO MAD abt going into witsec????

- like ????

- ‘aaron i need a life!’ ‘aaron our son needs a life!’

- ‘this might be what you signed up for but we didn’t’

- haley babe there’s quite literally a violent deranged serial killer after you and your son

- please. PLEASE. for ONE. SECOND.

- think abt someone other than urself

- like oh idk YOUR 4 YEAR OLD SON?????

- like you are quite literally in the path of death

- george foyett knows who you and your son are, what you both look like, and where you are

- and ur mad because *checks notes*

- ur husband is putting u guys in witsec so that u… don’t die????

- AND THEN SHE FUCKING WENT BACK TO THEIR OLD HOUSE WHEN FOYETT CALLED PRETENDING TO BE THE WITSEC OFFICER

- AND SAT WITH HIM LIKE ALL WAS FINE AND DANDY

- FULLY KNOWING THERE WAS A SERIAL KILLER AFTER THEM ????

- like i’m not victim blaming but babe ???

- you’ve been married to an FBI agent for how long now ?????

- let’s put on our thinking caps please!!!!!

in conclusion, the true villain of the criminal minds series is haley hotchner and literally not one single person in this whole entire world will ever change my mind. actually ever

#cherry my angel 👼🏽#fanmail 💌#nani.rants #fuck haley hotchner #criminal minds

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goldensunset · 9 months

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Jokes on you I'd love to read your deranged evidenceless spiel about poh Skuld

i don’t know if i have it in me to embarrass myself fully again but long story short i read a post theorizing that naminé was ava and i was actually pretty fascinated by it. i didn’t like the idea of nami not being her own original person tho so i sort of formulated my own version where it was sort of a kairi heart hotel situation. like how ven in sora’s heart influenced roxas’s existence i thought what if ava was in kairi’s heart somehow and played a role in naminé’s creation

the idea behind this (which is the work of the other person and not me) was that ava made into the future by heart-hopping, which ig is better then body-snatching like a certain person i know lol. and she originally went into skuld’s heart. then subject x happens and skuld isn’t safe and so ava jumps ship to the nearest purehearted young lady nearby in radiant garden

uh anyway point being about skuld is it would make her very special and magical and Chosen One i think. chosen for her loving radiant heart to be ava’s safe haven

so as you can see this is never going to be canon because it’s too outlandish but i’ve really enjoyed toying with the idea in the past

things to note that might make me seem slightly less insane:

•it’s noted by multiple sources- gula, brain, ven, and the character files- that skuld is similar to ava. why does this keep coming up? it hardly seems relevant to anything that happens in ux. the connection between them must mean something eventually.

•ava’s keyblade, at least to me, has pastel pretty ocean-wave vibes to it

•naminé’s theme plays in the intro to χ when kairi’s grandma is talking about ‘small fragments of light that survived in the hearts of children’. i know it’s probably just haha pretty song but hey this is kh anything could happen. nomura is great at making us go ‘no way, i didn’t think that meant anything!! what!!’

•i personally have never been satisfied with the canon explanation for naminé’s existence and powers etc. it’s probably because when she was originally introduced the whole nobody thing wasn’t planned but after kh2 a lot of the original gba com lore was changed so they had to come up with some nonsense explanation after the fact. but knowing kh it could suddenly be changed again lol

•iirc ava also has some powers related to memory manipulation. we know she has illusion powers and that’s sorta like what nami has?

tldr: oops i ended up typing it again after all. anyway i hope you enjoyed your sneak peek into my deranged mind

#asks #blazernot #kingdom hearts #y’know. i #hey listen #i enjoy being far-fetched occasionally

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eirakairos · 2 years

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Beg and Talk, Agent

Pairing: Franky x Fiona (Fionky)

Warnings: Explicit as heck I mean look at these tags lol

An enemy lieutenant finally caught the spy he wanted.

This is also is in AO3.

Note: I made this for a friend (who REALLY loves Franky) who was complaining that there is no Fionky fics so I went out of the cave and somehow wrote this during my work breaks. It's been months since I last write so apologies in advance! This was created with one overworked braincell lol

“Are you sure you’re okay in doing this?” He asks as he ties her down. In her thoughts, Fiona appreciated his double checking. They did talk about this some time, of wanting to try a sort of roleplay. They wanted to spice their relationship up… But with a bit of a twist.

“Huh? You wanted me to WHAT?” Franky exclaimed after almost choking while eating his toasted bread. Gladly they have been staying in a rented flat since they got together. “Yes, I wanted you to capture and play with me tonight,” Fiona said nonchalantly but her heart was racing the whole time. “Okay, okay,” he breathes out, probably his mind is starting to wonder and having such racing thoughts already.

“Honey, you don’t have to wear the mask,” Fiona says as she is being tied up on the chair. Franky makes sure the rope isn’t too tight. He is already mesmerized seeing Fiona in her suit attire, but she is wearing a short skirt, for… Easier access. He scowled. “Let me be handsome this once,” he said. Fiona just hummed. He is already amazing and attractive to her eyes but she lets him be. “There,” he said as he stood. He adjusts his uniform, which is the SS uniform, for this play. He likes what he sees, his precious lady tied up to his mercy.

“Ready, babe?” He asks her once more. Fiona nodded and looked at him. In her demeanor she looks so icy, but her eyes show otherwise. She loves what they are going to do. “Okay, just one more thing,” He says and moves closer for a kiss. It is soft and warm, she loves it but Franky has to part away before it goes off the rails, as they have to play first. They were panting a bit when he parts away and stood up to adjust, making himself ready to act.

“What do we have here?!” He sneered leaning closer to the stoic woman. “Finally I got you, Agent Nightfall, after such a long, long chase!” He cackled maniacally. He looks like a deranged lieutenant to her eyes but he’s her lovable deranged idiot. “Hmm? Still no word from you huh?” He walked and looked down on her, the light bulb shining behind him. “I’ll make you talk, baby doll.” Nightfall, or Fiona, looked at him when he said that.

“Hmm? You like being called that?” he chuckled and placed his thumb on her chin, making her look at him more. “Well? Still not going to talk?” He gazed at her before letting go. “You know, you are very pretty Nightfall. If you can’t talk…” He looked at her with the light shadowing his features. “Maybe I’ll use that mouth for something else,” he smiled. “I know all about you, Nightfall,” He says as he gently unbuttons her suit. She moved her torso, pretending to resist. “I would take that as no talking then,” He still continued unbuttoning her. “You better talk now, or else I’ll do such things,” He continued. Fiona is stoic but she is definitely flushed. The lieutenant hummed and saw her undershirt. “Your body tells me otherwise,” His hands went to the sides of her breasts, enjoying the sight of her nipples peeking out of the thin shirt. His thumbs went on them, gently pressing, making Fiona moan softly. He placed his hand behind her head and pushed towards him for a kiss. He is always gentle when doing so, until lust gets ahead of them. She is always the one initiating to go more deeper and intense, which he is obliged to do. His hands went on to massage her breasts more, making her moan in his mouth.

She tried to wiggle to touch him but she was bound by hands and feet. Franky smirked then kissed her more, raising her shirt to feel her flesh directly. She moaned louder, feeling his cold fingers slowly going down to her torso and to her legs. He parts again for air and gazes at her as his hand goes under her skirt. He gently touches her inner legs before grazing his fingers on her dampened panties.

“Someone is soaked,” He hummed as he continued kissing her, placing his hands on her hips to move it towards him for more access. “Mine, all mine,” He says. He moves towards kissing her breasts as he removes her black panties, letting it dangle on her leg. He places hickies on her neck while his fingers playing her clit and starts to slowly insert his finger. Fiona jolted slightly, letting out a groan. She instinctively closed her legs but he went closer, keeping her legs apart. He watches her closing her eyes and whimpered as he inserts another finger. “Beg for me to make you come, baby,” He stared at her with intent. She can feel his fingers going faster, arching to hit that spot. She moaned louder. “Beg,” he said and stopped moving. Fiona looked at him, a bit pissed off but he only grinned in response. “I told you, Agent, beg,”

She wanted it so bad, her eyes showed her want. Fiona is a straightforward person but not much in intimacy like this, as well with the roleplay they are doing. He went to lick her nipples but his fingers are still inside, not moving. She bit her lip, she can often stand this but not for him. She can tell he is nearing his limit, seeing his bulge down there being so visible and starting to strain him.

“P-Please,” she whispered. “Please make me come,” He tilted his head and smirked. He continued to move his fingers in and out. “Now, that wasn’t hard, wasn't it?” She got louder the faster he went. She squirmed and panting as she tried to squeeze her legs together again, shaking as she came. He slowed down, kissing her then to her neck. “Still not talking, Agent? Well, you really aren’t going to talk about what I’m gonna do to you,” He whispered as he removed his fingers inside her, feeling her slickness inside. She is still dazed from what happened, she felt it was a lot intense in roleplay.

He stood up while kissing her, hearing the sound of him unbuckling his belt. She saw the straining of his bulge when removing his pants. He pulled his boxers down, his hardened cock sprung out. He stroked himself first for immediate relief, he held her head, staring down at her. “Suck it, Nightfall,” He ordered. He placed the tip closer to her lips. She looked up to him and opened her mouth wide. He moaned softly in feeling her warm mouth. Her head bobbled forward, letting out sucking and soft moans. His hand is guiding her head, slowly taking control of his thrusting in her mouth and she lets him. She lets out choking noises as he moves his hips faster and deeper. Franky grunted and moaned, feeling that good sensation because of her warm mouth. He is holding her head while she is trying to accommodate his member.

He slowed down eventually as he felt he was nearing his peak, but not yet. He tilted his head and looked at her to check if she was okay. Fiona is nearly in tears and he was worried he might have gone too far. He slowly pulls out so she can breath and take a bit of a break though he is still raging hard and leaking. Fiona coughs a bit but is easily stayed still. He went to touch her again, feeling her folds are wet and leaking as well. “Agent, you are a feisty, stubborn one,” He glared at her. He loosens the rope a little in her arms and legs then grabs her off the chair. “I’ll make you sing in no time,” She groaned as he moved her, forcing her to walk and laid her upper body on the study table. Franky was glad he didn’t accidentally slam her or else he would be kicked in a second. He lifted her skirt, seeing that nice ass and legs. He squeezes them before slapping it, making Fiona yelp. He leaned forward and whispered. “You are enjoying this, aren’t you, Agent?” Fiona moaned in response, as he slowly inserted the head of his cock. “Such filthy lady,” He said again before going fully in. She moaned louder, wanted to hold onto something but she was still bound.

He started to thrust, loving the responses she made. She felt so indecent, being on the table with her breasts exposed and being under Franky’s control. She can’t stop moaning, as she always feels pleasure whenever he does it with her. The table rocked with her as he thrusts, Franky chasing the euphoria and how warm she is around his cock. He gripped on her hips and raised a bit off the table. Fiona gasped and started to moan louder, he knows the spot she really loves. “Can’t talk unless you’re being fucked real good, huh?” He says, being to his roleplay persona again. He slowed down a bit when he felt that she was going to come, to edge her a bit. Fiona turned her head, wanted to be annoyed but is still feeling that sexual high. Franky hummed. “Well? You know what to say, Agent. I won’t let you till you say it,” He whispered to her ears, his hands both cupping her breasts. He still continued thrusting to her deeply, but slow.

“L-Lieutenant…” She says softly. “I’m c-close,” She panted. Frankly blinked and grinned. “Filthy lady, if I give you what you want, you’ll talk?” He says, his thrusts starting to gain momentum again. He didn’t hear any answer, he pulled her hair and yanked back towards him. “Agent, answer me,” He hissed. Fiona started to moan again. “Y-yes, yes,” she said. Franky started to gain momentum again, the table moving and started to hear slapping noises. Both of them chase that feeling again, but to Franky, he knows she is going first. He slapped her ass with his other hand. “Ah, ah! Franky, I’m going to-” She whimpered as she finally came, her legs shivering. She is a mess and sweating, being sexy and indecent to Franky’s eyes. He slowed down so she could feel it more.

He started to move his hips again, as he felt close as well. He grabbed her hips and went faster. Fiona moans again, feeling warm and his precum and hers leaking out. “I’m going to use you so badly. Maybe coming inside so you’ll know your place,” He panted. They did have the conversation beforehand, they agreed to try. “N-No, you can’t-!” She said, pretending to struggle. Franky shuddered and went deeper, moaning as he came inside, filling her. He is panting harder and feels his knees shaking, feeling he will fall. He gently grabbed her hips to lift her off the table as he fell softly on the floor with her. She yelped then groaned, feeling his cock upon impact as it was still inside. Fiona looked at Franky, wanting to be angry, but he is still in that orgasmic feeling. She swiftly removed her ropes around her hands to embrace him. He looked down and kissed her.

“Are you okay?” He asked. She smiled that despite his situation, he still seeks her welfare the most. It is now the hour of the afterglow, despite being a bit dark and the sex was intense, it is now full of love.

“I am okay, you did good, Lieutenant,” “Nice that you’re talking now, Agent.”

#fionky #franky x fiona

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mirrorofliterature · 1 year

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ron & percy: some sunday evening thoughts

brought to you by your local percy weasley lover who is fond of all the weasley siblings and regards their parents with a healthy dose of scepticism who is currently in italy.

okay, italy aside, let’s get into some rambly thoughts.

so I’ve mentioned a few times ron & percy’s similarities and parallels: their tempers, appearances.

and well, admittedly the only time I’ve substantially written ron in my writing has not been in the most flattering light.

and I want to explain myself, as I do genuinely love ron. he’s not my favourite character, but he is a character I quite like + an interesting and lovable character who gets way too much hate. it’s a bit of a long scene, but not that long, so I’m going to extract it in fall under the read more to save people’s dashes.

A fortnight after Fred’s funeral, sparks fly between Ron and Percy, barely not literally.

Percy had come for lunch, after firmly refusing their mother’s requests to move back in, and he had offhandedly mentioned Harry.

How is he?

Ron, who has been an unlit tank of gasoline lately, took that as a challenge.

Why would you care? Wasn’t he a ‘bad influence’ who was ‘clearly deranged’?

Percy snaps back: don’t be so immature, Ronald.

The full name, the belittlement, cracks Ron’s composure completely, and he decides to come, claws out, for his brother.

It’s a thought that flits across Ginny’s mind less than some people may think: my brother is an asshole .

But it does occur, and often it’s flippant, meaningless, yet now -

“What do you know about the war,” Ron says, with an ugly sneer, “you didn’t fight in it.”

Here, this is deliberately meant to be misplaced insecurity (well, even if I left harry and hermione, at least I did more than percy, who I was told was a thousands time better than me for most of my adolosence [don’t compare your kids, not healthy]).

Percy’s face is bright, furious, as his ears redden. “I fought in the battle.”

Ron scoffs, crossing his arms. “And what else?”

Ginny loves Ron, but he has been so isolated this past year, barely peeking into the horror of Hogwarts or the shitstorm at the Ministry.

Ron forgets, sometimes, that he is not the only one deeply, irredeemably traumatised by the last year in his family.

“More than you know,” Percy retorts, tight-lipped, before spinning on the spot, the resounding crack loud.

The following silence is even louder.

Ron has quietened, now pale-faced. Percy gone, his rage dies, and remorse dawns on his face. He pulls at his already dishevelled hair. “Shit,” he says, a wild look in his blue eyes, “what did I just do?”

Ginny rolls her eyes, in a way that tries and fails to imitate only annoyance at her brother’s careless words, not fear.

So this scene was written quite early on in the drafting process.

Ron struggles to deal with negative emotions productively and this is just after the war - his brother just died, he was on the run for one year - he’s a live wire, basically. Very traumatised, a mild touch of survivor’s guilt and guilt from abandoning Harry and Hermione for a while, and he’s not getting the help he needs. Ron is grieving and angry and hurt - and I decided to write that as Ron with his temper very reactive, very quick to respond and fight, and still struggling with his own perceived abandonment by Percy - because although Ron may have tried to hide it, he was deeply hurt by Percy’s betrayal.

I think, ultimately, that Percy and Ron would repair their relationship, but it would take time. I closed their interactions off with this:

He peers at her, suspiciously. “Oliver told Ron to fuck off, so I didn’t get to speak with him, not really.”

Because Oliver is deeply protective of Percy, who probably came home a little mess from his brother (accidentally or not) targeting his biggest insecurities.

And then another mention here:

Repairing her relationship with Percy is tentative, but Percy is earnest, much more willing to take steps towards intimacy with her than he is even with Ron.

Even with Ron suggests a certain closeness or intimacy between the two - and I think that as much Ron griped about Percy, I do think that it’s pretty typical sibling stuff and that Percy was probably one of the most reliable people in Ron’s life for years - who may not have been the most fun, yes, but who would stick up for and support Ron, and when he stopped that, Ron was deeply hurt. He takes things very personally (see Harry and the Goblet of Fire situation). And, of course, in Ron’s eyes, Percy didn’t trust/believe Harry. (I’ve discussed previously how I view Percy’s break from his family ultimately stemming from a deep distrust for Dumbledore and broken interpersonal dynamics and Harry was just the convenient explanation, but I digress.) And Harry was Ron’s best friend, ride-or-die. Of course it cut deeply and their relationship is probably going to take a while to repair, but I think they have the potential for a close relationship after the war.

A lot of their friction - as seen in the fight above - is that they are too similar. Similar tempers, particularly, similar insecurities, but they express themselves differently.

Final interaction, at Ginny’s graduation ceremony, is this:

Percy, ever the courteous one, reprimands Ron with a stern yet fond look

Percy is Ron’s true older brother, and they love each other, but it is messy. By true older brother, I mean the age gap between Bill and Charlie and Ron is so substantial that they are more like fun cousins, whereas Percy had to do the hard work of actually being an older brother. Anyway. Maybe one day I will write more deeply on the subject instead of my messy evening rambles.

#percy weasley #ron weasley #hp #asocg #*pulls up a chair* so you followed me #now listen to me analyse my own fic #you're welcome

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lordeemailarchive · 1 year

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PART ONE: Eating two slices of ice cream cake with James Murphy

(04/11/2022) (Solar Institute Bulletin No. 19) (From New York)

If elegance is arriving somewhere without a commute story, then in the newslettersphere, elegance is starting your letter with anything BUT an apology for its lateness. I’ve owed you a letter for ages now, and one hasn’t come. For that, I’m sorry!!! Since the summer I’ve felt the weeks spinning through my fingers like fine thread. Airports, shows, cars, bursts of loneliness and melancholy, moments of sun. They might as well pay me in jet fuel, I’ve been on so many fucking planes this year (if you’re looking for a saviour, ETC); haven’t been in one place for more than two weeks since… July, I guess, not that that’s any sort of excuse, but things just kept happening and the list of things to tell you about kept getting longer until it was overwhelming, and so it goes. As Rachel Cusk says, one has to serve out one’s changes moderately, like strong wine. By that logic, I’ve been drunk for months, and with that state comes ups and downs — intense jonesing for home and family, a struggle at times to resource myself, feelings of inadequacy, of longing and loss. A couple times I’ve been backstage doing vocal warmups before a show thinking, What the fuck can I offer these people right now, when I myself feel as loose and spare as a tooth or a tyre? So finally today, sitting in a basement with bleach disciplining my scalp, I thought — today’s the day I’m gonna write to you. And for your troubles — TWO PARTS TO THIS BAD BOY. For all things tour — recent pics, updates on upcoming shows, et al, see part two. Between drinks, it has been an intense period of what I’d call research — not writing songs as such, but reading, conceptualising, writing a ton of stuff down, laying the foundation of… something. I’m feeling excited and challenged. A little nervous. Teeth in my shoulder.

Warmup

Milan sneak peek (more dispatched via the Institute)

Best thing seen this year - bioluminescence activated by the movement of the waves. does anyone know what kind of seaweed this is? Where my biologist SCsWWTS at?)

Bathroom floor after Primavera, Los Angeles

Have felt your love in general, these past couple months. All year, of course, but special moments keep coming sweet and bright — touching a tattoo in the rain, or my mum sending a photo of a freshie in the supermarket. Running into people who were at Radio City, hearing about everyone’s different nights — my waiter being accidentally on mushrooms there, a sweet boy in the grocery store who went by himself. And then, holy shit, the intense, overwhelming outpouring of love that was Mexico. I’m still riding high on what a warm welcome we got, how sweet and dedicated you all are, what finally being able to hug you and not let go for ten seconds felt like. I did get a terrible cold, but it was worth it.

STARVING YOU OF LAUREN’S GORGEOUS SHOW PICS + GENERAL TOUR CONTENT BECAUSE OF PART TWO random iphone pics only!!

Have written the story of my 72 hours in Milano and where I went after as an Institute dispatch, FYI. What’s been going on with me? This podcast episode. Remember this from last year? Going to see said painting at MoMa, having mind blown. Finally going to Tiny Doll House (AS A NEW YORK ACTIVITY I REALLY. CAN’T. RECOMMEND THIS ENOUGH). Seeing Dev play in the round. Thinking about work that feels open enough to contain different stories and meanings. Sitting in the sunshine talking about hearing One Dance for the first time. Watermelon 5 gum (A DERANGED AIRPORT PURCHASE THAT I’M LOVING… XYLITOL CAN YOU BELIEVE SHE’S BEEN OUT OF NZ TOO LONG!!). Finally read Essential Labor By Angela Garbes and it blew my damn brains out. Loving Cusk, halfway through Second Place. Natasha Brown’s Assembly and David Milch’s Life’s Work waiting in the wings. Read Natalia Ginzburg’s Voices in the Evening on a beach in Greece. Always so fascinating to me as I get older and realise that the books I’m gravitating towards are a little bit like my browser search history, getting at the questions I’m asking. Domesticity, family, parenting… paging Dr. Freudette! This conversation between Hilton Als and Terrence Hayes in the Paris Review is one of the most gagging interviews I’ve ever read. The podcast POOG, which I’m late to discovering but completely obsessed with. Like the rest of New York, Kate has me in a chokehold. “As she banters about skin care, you get the sense that her refusal to play herself onstage is part of a larger personal preoccupation with the ways that the coherent “self” is always a doomed project.” (Shades of Cusk???) Gonna buy these Kari Māori cards for Christmas presents this year. This newsletter took so damn long I missed Mahuru Māori, but I consumed a ton of really thoughtful work by a variety of creators during that month, a highlight being this podcast episode reflecting on the 50 year anniversary of the Maori language petition being delivered to Parliament, and the future of reo in our country. Haven’t seen Tár yet but it’s on my list. LOVED Corsage. Wanted to like Triangle of Sadness more than I did, although it was fun in the room. Watching the movement in Iran with my heart in my mouth. I cannot believe the bravery of these women. FUCK YOU BOLSONARO AND GOOD RIDDANCE.

Leaving you with two quotes, that could be applied to making stuff, or just to living your life. “First you hate something, then you investigate why you hate something. That is exciting — and for creative people, to be excited is the only way.” From Mrs. Prada. And this, such a classic, from Kris Kristofferson upon hearing Blue for the first time: “‘Jesus, Joni,’ he said. ‘Save something for yourself.’” No. Shan’t. Throbbing with love for you. PART TWO INCOMING! E

(source: received this email)

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sukirichi · 3 years

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— just the two of us

request: I almost read all of your jujutsu kaisen writings and I love it. Your writing is really good! I do not know if a request about a fics🥞 about satoru gojo who is really in love and not very possessive with an oblivious reader. It will be fun to see Satoru try to flirt with her and she doesn't get it🤣

pairings: gojo x oblivious! reader

notes: THIS IDEA IS SO CUTEEE I absolutely loved every second of writing it! thank you for the request and I hope you like this! 🥞 breakfast has been served!

word count: 3.3k

warnings: none, other than this is unedited and written humorously rather than seriously~

masterlist !

Gojo doesn’t know whether he’s lucky – or completely cursed – over the fact you’ve got no idea he’s so in love with you.

It’s a bright sunny morning, perfect for outdoor training, and he walks with you all the way to school with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. You stretch your arms out in the sky to bask in the morning glow and warmth of the sun, sleeves pushed up to your forearms to “get that vitamin D.”

Satoru snickers at your statement, because you’d totally be getting a different kind of Vitamin D if only you’d notice him. Sometimes he wonders, if maybe you’d inherited the Six Eyes instead of him, would you finally be able to see him – or would you still remain unaware?

He doesn’t even know where it began. A year ago, Yaga introduced you as the newest staff member. You’d been so fidgety and nervous then, unsure of what to do and worried if maybe the kids wouldn’t love. They did, of course, how could they not. Not only were you extremely fun to be with, you’re also caring, fretting and even crying whenever one of the students got injured over a mission.

Shoko reminds you all the time that this should be normal for you by now, but you always cry every time, sobbing that they’re still only kids and should be out having fun.

Yeah, maybe that’s where it began. Your kindness struck a chord in Satoru’s heart, and before he knew it, he was falling for you. Hard. Next thing you know, he shows up five minutes before you leave for work, mock-saluting you before inviting you to breakfast. He does this every damn day, and you still don’t get a single thing.

“That café was really good,” you muse, fingers stretching outwards and giggling as the sun peeks through the spaces. Satoru sighs beside you, wanting nothing more than to slip his fingers through those softer ones. “We should go back there sometime. Maybe even take the kids with us this weekend so we can all have breakfast together!”

Satoru masks a snicker with a cough. It reminds him of the time Megumi called you mom and dad by accident, to which you happily responded with before tackling the boy in hugs, while the strongest jujutsu sorcerer only flushed in embarrassment.

Him being him though, Satoru played it off cool, flipping his hair before striking a pose. “Huh, a dad?” he smirks, “The only person who gets to call me daddy would be no one else but Y/N.”

The raven haired first year student immediately recoils in disgust. Meanwhile, the innuendo flies straight through you, and you peer up at him innocently with your head tilted to the side. “Daddy? Why would I call you my dad? My father is still alive and well, and I don’t see you marrying my mom or anything,” Just as Megumi nearly howls in laughter – another evidence that you’re really something else to get the usually stoic boy to lose his composure like that – you snap your fingers, the light bulb above your head practically shining. “Oh, I get it! You prefer younger women and you want them to call you that! Kind of like the hype for onii-chan nowadays.”

Hopeless, Satoru wants to say, you’re absolutely, utterly hopeless.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Satoru shrugs nonchalantly, sending a smirk your way. It usually drives everyone crazy, but you only smile back up at him in the same way you smile with everyone, and he tries his best to not show his shoulders are deflating. Nevertheless, he doesn’t give up. “How about you and I go out somewhere this weekend? The movies, perhaps?”

Say yes, say yes – please say yes.

Really though, he’s waiting for that ‘no’ already. Satoru knows you always go out of town during the weekends to visit your family in the countryside, only coming back on Monday the next week with a basket of fruits and traditional goods that isn’t so easy to find in the city.

But then you clasp your hands together in excitement, lashes fluttering delicately as you beam up at him. “Really? You’d like to go to the movies with me?”

“Of course I would,” Satoru tries not to stutter, hiding the fact that he’s completely taken aback. He’s the Gojo Satoru for heaven’s sake, he shouldn’t be this affected by anyone’s presence. “What makes you think I wouldn’t want to?”

“Oh, nothing, I just thought you were busy. This Saturday, then?”

Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap, it’s actually happening – his mind was barely functioning at this point, and he even slapped his cheeks to snap him back to life. “I thought there was a fly,” he lied with a chuckle, “But yeah, Saturday. I’ll pick you up?”

“Yeah, sure!”

Satoru wouldn’t stop smiling the whole way to the school. Even when Yuuji had face planted into the ground and Megumi sprained his ankle from training, he wasn’t able to get rid of the ridiculously big smile that stretched across his lips. He’s floating in cloud nine, flowers erupting from his ears and heart-shaped emojis bursting in his background.

“Well, you look creepy,” Shoko commented in the faculty room the moment you excused yourself, “Did you land a date with her or something?”

“That I did,” he stated proudly, even banging his fist on his chest like a deranged form of King Kong.

“I can only hope Y/N makes it out alive,” Nanami announces from behind the newspaper he’s reading, legs crossed over another before he peeks above the paper, narrowed eyes dead set on the blindfolded man. “Don’t be too wild with her, Satoru. She’s a gentle soul despite being a sorcerer – I humbly suggest you don’t mess with her feelings.”

“Are you kidding me? She’s the one messing with my feelings by being so fucking cute all the time!”

“Who’s cute?”

Shoko nearly spits out her coffee the moment you enter, glancing around the room and sitting down next to a shock-still Satoru. Nanami only huffs in his seat with a shake of his head. It doesn’t take long before Satoru regains his confidence and recovers from his shock – he’s turned to you with his torso completely facing your way.

You bask in the attention, mimicking the gesture until your faces are mere inches from one another. The fact you’re so responsive and attentive to him yet still painfully naïve strikes a mental war of himself debating whether he wants to kiss you or knock your head upside down. Satoru chooses neither options as he leans closer, his smile growing wider when you don’t pull away, and he doesn’t stop moving until his lips are right beside the shell of your ear.

“You’re cute.”

Shoko shudders at the same time Nanami just gives up on everything, folding his paper and lying that he’s got someplace to go with Ichiji. Satoru patiently waits for your reaction; for you to crumble this time around.

You’re silent for a moment, brows almost right across each other when you register his words. Satoru ends up holding his breath for your next words, wondering: is this it? will she finally understand what I feel for her now?

Even Shoko ends up sitting at the edge of her seat, silently watching the exchange with interest barely hidden in her sparkling eyes. Satoru watches as your lips open, his eyes transfixed on the way the soft flesh moves. They tilt upwards, revealing a set of a wide smile – the smile he can never get enough of. “Thank you!” you giggle at his compliment, “You and Shoko are very cute too! And the kids too, especially Toge! Not that I’m saying he’s my favourite—”

“He’s definitely your favourite student,” snorts Shoko who is ignoring the way Satoru turns completely gray beside you.

It turns out you still haven’t figured it out after all.

“The kids this – the kids that,” the tall, lanky man whines, his head falling back on the back of the leather couch. He looks so utterly defeated you can’t help but lean over him to check if he’s okay, but Satoru pouts and hides his face under his uniform instead. “Why can it never be just the two of us?”

“Sorry, what did you say?”

This time, you’ve kneeled on the couch to hover him. You even pluck one side of his blindfold off to see how he’s doing, and suddenly thankful you can’t see the way his cheeks are absolutely flaming right now.

“Nothing,” he assures, his smile hidden behind his shirt. You look absolutely adorable hovering over him like that – eyes wide and lips pouty – what he wouldn’t give to kiss those lips right now, but it isn’t the right time, and Satoru just needs to find a better way to tell you how he feels. “It’s nothing.”

It’s absolutely not nothing.

Saturday couldn’t come faster.

Satoru finds himself willing time to go faster. Once the awaited day finally comes, he wastes no time in choosing his best outfit; an oversized black shirt tucked into black skinny jeans before styling his hair up the way he likes.

He winks at his reflection in the mirror, going ooh and aah at how hot he looks. It’s another reason why he can’t comprehend why you don’t like him yet, when, uhm, he knows he looks damn good? He’s pretty funny too – and his strength and power is already a no-brainer. Satoru can’t wrap his head around any possible reason why you wouldn’t like him; it’s basically a life or death mission at this point.

With that end goal in his mind and a spritz of perfume later, Satoru sashays out his apartment. Even though it’s already dark outside and he spent the whole day walking back and forth in his room trying to come up with ways to confess to you, he acts coolly all the way to your apartment.

This time around, he’s more than confident. He’s going to have you wrapped around his pretty little finger, “Wow,” is the first thing he says, pulling his blindfold down just to look at you.

Satoru feels blessed in that exact moment to witness how the heavens took their time with you, creating only the best out of the best and birthing the most magnificent person ever. Suddenly, he grows an urge to run to the countryside and thank your parents for going funky one night and creating you, because you’re an absolutely magnificent gift and it really baffles him how you’re real.

“Wow,” he repeats again, and you chuckle when he shakes his head. “You look beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you look him up and down, smiling in satisfaction. “You look very handsome yourself.”

Satoru’s been called handsome a million times before that it’s gotten too much in his head already, but hearing it come from your lips hits different. If he was excited before, it’s nothing compared to what he feels now when you loop your arm through his, dangling off his arm like you were a lover.

He knows it’s not real and this is probably just a friendly date for you – something he intends to clear up later – but it doesn’t stop him from puffing his chest up a bit, almost as if bragging to everyone around you that he was the one you’re with, and that he was the one you’re going to the movies with.

All your babbles about everything goes straight into one ear and out the other. He wants to listen to you, he really does, but he’s so intoxicated with your voice that he just ends up nodding at everything you say; his attention mostly on how sweet you sound and smell.

His feelings only intensify a hundred times more when you finally make it to the theatre. Not only is it dark, but you’re sitting right next to him, arms and thighs brushing against each other. He takes note of every little movement you make, smiling to himself when you don’t pull away from his thigh flush against yours.

In this close proximity, your perfume overwhelms his senses. He finds himself leaning closer just to get a little more taste of it, his arm resting on the armrest beside him and placing his cheek on his open palm.

He doesn’t even know what the movie is about. All he can see, hear, feel and recognize is you – nothing and no one but you. Just as he wanted, it’s just the two of you.

Satoru reaches out to the bowl of popcorn in his lap to distract himself from the need of kissing you already. He was so smug that he’s on this date with you; now he feels like the world is laughing and mocking at him because you’re so close yet so far away. The last thing he wants is to say something weird and have you running for the hills. It’s clear you don’t like him, after all.

You end up reaching for it the same time he does, making your fingers brush. It sends a jolt of electricity down his spine and he immediately retracts it.

Looking up at him with an apologetic smile, Satoru knows he’s messed up. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out, raising your hands in surrender with a nervous chuckle. “I should’ve gotten my own bowl instead.”

Satoru stares at you through his blindfold. You’re close enough that he can count your lashes – both top and bottom row – and he’s so stupefied at this point that he just says the first thing that comes to his mind; absolutely anything just to get your attention. “Cold,” he shows you his hand, “I’m cold.”

“Oh,” you nod and slip your fingers through his. Satoru nearly gasps at how electrifying the sensation is from having your smaller, softer fingers collide with his, your hands fitting perfectly in his bigger, calloused ones. Then, you close your intertwined hands and smush your cheek with it to transfer your heat – completely unaware that Satoru feels like he’s floating in his own Infinite Void right now. “Feel warmer now?”

“Yes,” he replies. “Extremely.”

Something beast-like wakes within him after that. Now that he knows you don’t mind touching him at all, Satoru can’t help but want to take out all his playing cards and just go fuck it. So he does – and he might regret, he might not – who cares? It’s just the two of you, and you’re the only one he ever cares about this much that he’d pretty much let you do anything at this point.

“You know,” Satoru begins, shifting until your joined hands are resting on top of his chest. His heart is just about ready to burst through its confines at this moment, but he holds back. It’s now or never. “Shoko and Nanami are annoyed that I talk about you all the time.”

Your eyes widen at his statement. “Really? Do you talk badly about me or something?”

“No,” he nearly groans in frustration, “You’re really pretty and cool. You’re amazing during missions, too, when you fight, it’s like I’m witnessing a warrior princess. So cool.”

This makes you laugh until the person sitting behind you rudely shushes you. You bow your head in apology, turning to Satoru with a softer smile this time; one that looks reserved and private compared to your big grins. “Oh, no,” he closes his eyes even behind his blindfold, “Don’t smile at me like that. I don’t think I’ll still be cool if I end up stuttering over my words.”

“Satoru!” you whisper-hiss, although your chest is filled with so much giddiness too that you’ve both forgotten about the movie; unaware that the entire theatre was crying over the main character’s friend’s death. “What are you going on about?”

He wants to laugh so damn hard. He thought confessing his feelings for you would end up in a pitiful heartbreak that you’d be weirded out and push him away. For a moment, he forgets it’s you, and that nothing is ever difficult or painful with you – other than, of course, you being oblivious, but that isn’t something he can’t fix. He’ll get you on the train one way or another.

“I have a confession.”

“Yeah?”

“I was practicing how to ask you out for a whole hour in the mirror,” Satoru whispers, careful to not ruin the melancholic mood of theatre. It doesn’t even surprise him that his world is filled with nothing but sunshine even if the world around you has descended into grief and loneliness. “I also called Nanami on first date tips.”

“Nanami?” you echo with a gasp, “Why Nanami?”

“Because he’s married, that’s why. Mans know some tips for sure.”

“Wait, so,” you chuckle nervously, and Satoru waits, waits for you to pull away or push him back – anything that would indicate discomfort. He’s patient the whole time, watching carefully as you only squeeze his hand and gesture to the both of you with your free one. “This is a date? Our first date?”

“Only if you want to be,” Satoru shrugs, grimacing afterwards at how sappy he sounds. “Well, I actually consider this our first date and I’ve been waiting for this for like forever now, so I sure as hell hope you want this too. I didn’t dress myself up today only to come back home crying.”

Satoru’s heart – if possible – only beats crazier and sings the syllables of your name when you start laughing harder to the point you have to muffle it by burying yourself in his bicep. He feels like his muscles and nerves could erupt at any moment. It’s crazy – absolutely insane – how you have him wrapped around your finger like this. He doesn’t complain though; he never will.

“I’m glad,” you mumble through his shirt, your erratic heartbeat matching kiss when you take the first tentative step of kissing his jaw.

Satoru stiffens underneath you, a low growl ripping from his throat. He’s feral, wild, drunk at the sight and scent of you. You make him feel like he’s fluctuating between dimensions, all the planets just crashing on one another until the stardust is left in your eyes because what else could be an explanation for what he’s feeling other than a supernova collision of hearts?

“You always make me feel so happy when you’re around that I still can’t believe you feel the same way. I was so worried that maybe you wouldn’t get my hints.”

Satoru groans, “What the hell? How long have you liked me?”

“I guess when you started bringing flowers to Megumi randomly just to piss him off.”

Satoru wants to rip his hair out. That was just a few weeks after you’ve started working with him, meaning you both have liked each other this whole time and he’s been suffering and feeling stupid just for nothing?

“God, Y/N,” he mutters to himself, “You really do know how to make a man go crazy, huh?”

That innocent smile on your face lets him know that as usual, you’re oblivious of everything. Satoru is right; he still can’t decide whether he wants to whack you in the head upside down. With a sigh, he ends up choosing the latter, nearly falling over his seat when you let out a surprised yelp at the feeling of his lips on yours.

It doesn’t take long before you grab onto his shirt and cling to dear life, laughter bubbling through your lips as you kiss. The sound is so precious he wants to bottle it up and keep it treasure for the rest of his life, but Satoru doesn’t rush anything.

With you and only with you is he ever capable of feeling like it’s just the two of you in a world filled with chaos and destruction.

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literalnobody · 3 years

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Lord Hawthorne

When the elusive and absurdly rich Lord Hawthorne announces his unusual competition to seek a bride, you don’t think it would be any harm to enter. But perhaps there is a reason no one has ever seen Lord Hawthorne in person...

(this is the first terato story I’m publicly sharing so like.. Be nice to me pls T_T)

[Part Two] [Part Three] [part Four]

PART ONE (SFW)

[Content: Regency era, male monsterxfemale reader, Forest god/Horned monster/Cernunnos, Advantageous marriage, Low self image]

*****

When news came of Lord Hawthorne's unusual proposition, your mother was a flurry of excitement. “The Lord is lonely!” She howled, flitting around your modest estate, wildly waving the promulgating letter – a copy of which had been delivered to almost every home in the county – as though it were a battle flag. When you and your three sisters finally managed to wrangle her into the kitchen and seat her by the range, she slapped the paper down against the table. “The Lord is lonely!” She panted, breathless from her deranged spin around the house.

“Yes, so you've said,” You prompted, unsure of what could have spurred this episode.

“He is eager to choose a wife!”

“What?!” Elouise, your eldest sister, snatched the letter up and held it close to her face. “Who has he in mind?”

“He has no one in mind!” Your mother laughed, swinging her legs like a child. “He is soliciting for a suitable match!”

“By what means, soliciting?” Abigail was already pawing at Elouise, peering over her shoulder eagerly.

“A ball, I hope!” Isadora, your youngest sister, clung to Elouise's elbow.

You hung back, eager as any of them, but feeling a pit of reservation in your stomach. You were, in your own opinion, the least lovely of your sisters, and had already suffered one failed engagement years before. You had learned not to hope for too much – least of all the elusive Lord Hawthorne, who owned half the county and according to the gossip of your friends, made at least £10,000 a year.

“It's quite bizarre,” Elouise turned, her two flanking sisters whipping around with her. “He has written a riddle and invites eligible ladies to respond.”

“Sounds pretentious,” You sighed.

Your mother hissed your name and scoldingly kicked your shin, “He's allowed to be pretentious, he's rich! Have you any better prospects?”

Elouise met your eye, her brow furrowed, and of course you understood. You weren't exactly the heiresses of a stately home. You had a decent house, with a large farm, healthy livestock and a decent crop of vegetables, all of which would go to your brother, Reginald, who would kindly ensure you were looked after for the rest of your days. The urgency wasn't so much to find a husband and save yourself from destitution... It was to find a husband and save yourself from your mother's frivolous nagging. Elouise and yourself were already in your twenties, and Gods, mother wouldn't let you forget it. Every day she greeted you with a shocked gasp and a “Is that a crease under your eyes?!” (No, mother, I'm just tired) “Is that a grey hair?!” (No, mother, the sun lightens my colour).

And, you supposed, it may be novel, to write back to the Lord.

“Tell us the riddle, then,” You leaned in to your sisters, taking a peek at the lovely penmanship on the parchment.

“Inbound, a procession of my brothers:

The first to arrive at our wedding tells you

The meadow's wealth, he trades for gold,

And wisdom in his waters hold.

My second brother arrives at our wedding, he says

So be it! Though I am not high,

As I walk, my tailcoats sweep the sky.

Lastly, I stand at the alter. I tell you,

I fumble my words, and I deter when I'm seen,

But I'll gift you a crown fit for a queen.

Can you name us?”

“What a ridiculous way to choose a bride!” Isadora exhaled, frustrated. “I don't know what any of that is supposed to mean!”

“You're too young to be marrying, anyway,” Elouise muttered, though you could tell she too was confounded. “When he says he deters when he's seen –”

“That part's easy,” Abigail took the letter with some confidence. “He's saying he's ugly!”

“He must be ugly,” You agreed, thoughtful. “As rich as he is, I can't think of a reason he wouldn't be able to find a wife through normal face-to-face conversation, unless-”

“Lord Hawthorne is never seen in public,” your mother chastised you, getting up from her seat to set the kettle on the hook over the fire. “He is a very traditional gentleman, and very reserved.” “So he must be ugly,” Elouise agreed.

“Girls!” Your mother snapped, “Who cares if he's ugly? For his income, you could live in a mansion so large you'd never have to see each other!” “Is that all you think about?” You challenged her, swiping the letter from Abigail to re-read the riddle. “What of your daughter's happiness?”

“You'll be happy when you're rich!”

Elouise laughed, and reclaimed the letter from you, staring at it thoughtfully. “I will write back to him at once,” She finally said.

Abigail gasped, “You've cracked it already?” “Well I must give it my best shot, and quickly, before some other girl solves it!” And with that she disappeared out through the servant's hall and up the stairs, the stampede of Abigail and Isadora behind her vibrating through the house. Their giggles and shrieks faded away until they were decisively silenced with the closing of a bedroom door somewhere overhead.

You and your mother sat in silence for a few moments. Eventually, she asked, “Won't you even try, my love?” “I am trying,” You mumbled. Not so much for the prospect of a rich, lordly husband – you were maintaining your cautious pessimism on that front. But you liked solving riddles, and grew frustrated at the prospect of being outsmarted by one of your sisters, or your friends, or neighbours, or worst of all, some stranger from another town, and you having no access to the girl to ask what the hell the answer even was.

By nightfall, all three of your sisters had come to their own unique conclusions about what the riddle meant, with your ever generous mother stopping in to provide hints and encouragements (and to harass you into participating in the contest as well). Elouise believed it was a trick, that all three must be “Lord Hawthorne”, as naturally brothers would share a name and title. Abigail, taking the literal route, had badgered father about the Lord's lineage and what his brothers may have been named – but according to father, no one had ever seen Lord Hawthorne in person. He had allegedly won his entire extensive estate in a game of cards (soul destroying to have been the loser of THAT wager) and no one knew of his parents, his brothers, or any family that had taken up with him. Abigail therefore guessed the names based on what sounded nice in front of “Hawthorne.” Isadora, on the other hand, cunning for her age, suspected that he was not speaking of blood brothers but more likely a bretherin of other rich aristocratic men in the area. She reasoned that the first brother, who traded the meadows wealth, had to be Lord Ardagh, for he owned the largest swath of agricultural land in the province. Meanwhile the brother who was “not high,” and therefore short, Isadora concluded had to be the paltry Lord Minnow, known for his extravagent expenditure and outrageous fashion (He had once worn to a funeral a glittering top hat adorned with a fountain of peacock feathers). You actually thought Isadora's guess was probably the soundest of the three, but you kept that to yourself, knowing your other sisters would be highly offended.

You couldn't help but feel that all three of their answers were wrong, though.

In spite of your mother's pressuring, you resisted the urge to pen your response to the Lord, and decided to sleep on it. You had colourful, restless dreams, of standing in a stream in a meadow, trying to make sense of this strange poem – this hurricane of words that the Lord had sent to challenge you. In the dream, a figure shrowded in black stood across the field, unmoving and staring straight at you, though you couldn't see his face.

When you woke, you followed an odd compulsion to your father's study, where he kept a modest library on mostly practical subjects. There was a book you remembered admiring as a child for its illustrations – on the medicinal properties and archaic beliefs pertaining to different types of wood. You sat and skimmed the pages until you found the passage you remembered – about the hazel tree. You recalled a story your grandmother used to tell by the fire on winter nights, about a salmon who ate hazel nuts and gained all the wisdom of the world. And there it was, in this book now:

“Traditionally, hazel trees were believed to offer insight and knowledge. If a hazel tree grew by a fresh water spring, drinking the water was thought to endow one with wisdom.”

You took up your parchment and wrote a response to Lord Hawthorne.

“My dear Lord,” You wrote, “Though I find your method of selecting a suitable bride to be unorthodox, and I suspect this riddle has already been solved, pride compels me to respond to your challenge. The meadows wealth, I assume you mean HAY, and to trade for gold, is to SELL, and the tree whose water holds wisdom is the HAZEL. This is your first brother.”

You paused, considering if you truly wanted to go on with this challenge. Perhaps solving the riddle for yourself was enough. Perhaps...

A strange feeling swelled in your stomach. Of wanting... To be challenged. Of wanting to be engaged with. You realised you were feeling excitement.

You wrote on, “This suggested to me how I might derive your second brother's name. So be it, you are stating your WILL, and to not be high is to be LOW, and the tree that sweeps the sky is the WILLOW. This must be your second brother.”

You had to contain the strange giddiness rising up inside of you, as it was starting to affect your handwriting. You were so eager to get the words down, you splotched the ink a little.

“I must then posit,” You continued, “That to fumble your words is to HAW, and to see a THORN would surely deter, and of course, traditionally, a bride wears a crown of hawthorne flowers. This was the easiest, for I already knew your name to be HAWTHORNE. I enjoyed this little challenge, and I wish you luck in your pursuit for a bride.”

You signed your name, putting in a little more effort than usual to make your signature look tidy and, if you were being truly honest with yourself, alluring. You sealed an envelope with your father's wax and went out to the gate. You were planning to give the letter to the post man in the nearest village, but you saw your neighbour walking down the old path and, upon hearing he would be passing the Hawthorne estate, asked him to deliver your letter.

“Trying to solve the riddle, eh?” Your neighbour chuckled, taking the envelope.

You tried not to seem overly confident. After all, it was best practice not to get your hopes up. “Just thought I'd try my hand.” “I heard it made a fuss in town last night, you're a bit late to the contest,” he teased. You tried not to let your disappointment show on your face as that familiar feeling of despair surfaced in your chest. Of course, you weren't expecting a proposal from the Lord. You weren't even expecting a reply. You only wrote to him because you had nothing better to do. And you refused to be disappointed by the inevitable lack of interest your letter received. And these were things you believed. These were things you believed.

It was late, hours after nightfall when an urgent banging on the heavy wooden door woke the household. You and Elouise were the first to the hall, your father and mother grumbling down the stairs behind you. Elouise opened the door, her candle illuminating the wet face of the messenger who stood on the step as rain poured down around him.

“My apologies for the late hour,” he wheezed holding up his own lantern to Elouise. “I was told it couldn't wait.” “For the sake of the Gods, man,” your father griped, moving between you and Elouise to confront the man. “What news could you possibly bring at this late hour?”

“A letter sir, an urgent letter,” The messenger patted down his pockets, slipping out an envelope with a liquid gold wax seal, bearing the emblem of a horned goat. “For your daughter.”

The letter bore your name.

----

Thank you for reading! A little edit as I still get compliments on the riddle in this chapter and the post explaining it's not my riddle is buried under years of other blog posts.

I didn't write the riddle in Hawthorne's letter, it's adapted from a riddle I remembered from a favourite childhood book: Catkin written by Antonia Barber and illustrated by P.J. Lynch. The riddle was actually the springboard around which this whole story was inspired, I used it as a writing prompt and altered it from being about trees in general to being about a wedding with tree-deities. The apple riddle in later chapters is mine though (which is why it's less clever than this one 😅) anyway I just wanted to clarify that. I hope you enjoy the story! ^_^

#terato #terato fic #terato writing #monster story #monster love #monster bf #horned god #very nervous about sharing this pls be gentle with your mockery :')#my writing #mine #úlla and hawthorne #(but in second person)#i am dipping my toes into the water of second person monster fucker writing

1K notes · View notes

kosmosguk · 3 years

Text

Lineage (M) | 4

Pairing: Duke Yoongi x Princess Reader

Word Count: 5.2K

Summary: When an engagement locks you, the 8th and forgotten princess, to the duke infamous for his cruelty, you find yourself counting the days until your inevitable death. It’s terrifying to think of your end, but when you arrive at his territory, you realize there’s a more morbid reason behind your marriage, and that the duke is much worse than the rumors have painted him out to be.

Warnings: HEAVY yandere themes, death, mentions of gore and death, near-death experiences, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, mentions of smut, 18+, explicit language, pregnancy, vomiting

A/N: wow...I can’t believe this story (well the main story; there’s a special chapter and an epilogue coming up) is over. Over 40 pages later...It feels like I’ve raised and nurtured a baby into a somewhat adult and now I have to send it off for college or smth :( I never thought the story would do this good in the first place (part 1 has 4k+ notes and I’m ,, shook ,,,) so to everyone who supported and loved this story (as messy as it was)...THANK YOU! Please keep supporting my writing, and I hope to keep improving as your lovely kosmosguk :]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

The air was still cold, the kind of cold that heavily bore on your lungs and left you rattling like the only thing left of you was a decaying ivory skeleton. You supposed the cold made sense, even though it was spring and it shouldn’t have been so cold. Some part of you convinced yourself it was the norm even when droplets of icy water splashed onto your frail cheeks. Even when you closed the door behind you, you could feel the chill; even when an acrid taste built up in your throat, you could not stop shivering.

Why could you remember the look on Namjoon’s face? You closed your eyes. Go away, go away, go away. His face lingered even then, even more stark against the darkness of your closed lids, hollow, disappointed eyes and lips curled too rigidly, too unnaturally into a smile. You knew that look. You hated that look.

You could feel the pain in your chest, prickling, and that pain seemed to sink itself into your stomach. Why did it hurt? Why were you hurting?

10. 9. 8.

You counted in your mind softly as the nausea swelled up, like the disgustingly messy crescendo of an agonizing melody. Now, this was strange, wasn’t it? Your cold wasn’t supposed to be accompanied by such nausea. When you began to heave, bracing yourself against the frame of your bed, you heard a knock and then the door click open.

A maid stood out there, her eyes widening as if she could not fathom the sight of you. You clasped your hand around your mouth, tears building up in your eyes, and you choked on a heave. You heard her footsteps tapping frantically as she dashed to get a bucket, but you couldn’t hold in the prickling in your throat, the swirling in your stomach.

Tears spilled out, dropping onto the ground, as you bent over and retched all over your nightgown and the carpet. Your vision blurred, spots dancing, and you sunk heavily into the moment of weakness.

When you came to, you were being encased in something warm. You didn’t smell anything rancid like what you had been expecting; instead, the soft pleasant scene of rose oil scented soap met your nose, and you exhaled a relieved sigh. Wait…rose wasn’t the only smell. You could smell a hint of wine and something muskier, though slightly sweet. The smell of it was so familiar. It couldn’t be? You peeked open an eye to look up to see your surroundings, and your mouth dropped open slightly.

“D-duke? My Lord. Why are you here? Why…How did I get here?’’ you sputtered, and you tried to push yourself out of his hold. His gaze, along with his hold, remained steady. He reached out slightly and gently trailed a finger down the curve of your cheek.

“I haven’t been able to visit you lately because of how busy I’ve been…If I had known you were feeling so ill, I would’ve been by your side. I’m so sorry,’’ his tone was remorseful. The Duke, who everyone believed had no bone of emotion in his body and who was notorious for never feeling remorse, was apologizing to you. His words seemed to wash out every agony you had experienced. You rapidly blinked away the hint of tears in your eyes and ducked your head shyly.

He caught your chin with a hand before you could hide your face and lifted it gently. You noticed the black circles imprinted into the skin under his eyes, the way his face was even more waxy and pale than usual. Every aggrievance you had despaired over while alone in that room faded; you missed him. You missed him so much. You wouldn’t have been stuck in your own head if he had been there to hold you…but he was here now.

That thought washed over you, and you wrapped your fingers around the hand that was under your chin. His hand was limp as you pushed it down to your thrumming heart. Your stomach fluttered as his fingertips traced your warm skin peeking out of the collar of your nightgown. You carefully held his hand there. You didn’t notice the brief flash of guilt on his face.

You didn’t say anything, your hand still firmly holding his, and you shuffled your body closer, closing your eyes. The scent of the two of you mixed together was pleasant, and although Yoongi’s touch was usually unnaturally cold, today he was so warm. Or maybe the warmth of you had seeped out and spread around the two of you. That was okay; you were warm enough for the both of you. You suddenly felt so tired, even though you had just slept.

“Yoongi…,’’ your voice was barely a mumble,’’ I’m tired. Stay with me?’’

He moved the hand in your grasp slightly, and you held on tightly even though you were half-asleep. He chuckled lowly.

“Don’t worry. Relax your hand. I’ll be here,’’ he spoke. You complied, and you felt his fingers wrap themselves around yours. The two of you laid there, a hand clasped with the other between your chests, and you took in the sensation of your husband with every deep inhale.

“I’ll always be here.”

“Is she better?’’

Namjoon leaned back on the chain, but his posture was still stiff. Yoongi gazed at him with cold eyes from the chair across from Namjoon.

“What were you doing with her? Alone.’’ Yoongi’s voice was menacing.

Namjoon casually shrugged, his voice was level and careful to not expose any of his inner emotions.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? I was checking up on her, something her husband wasn’t doing. She didn’t look too good either,’’ Namjoon kept an eye on Yoongi’s reaction, his tone accusatory and raising in volume,’’ It made me think that you don’t give a damn about her, even though she looks and acts so much like her.’’

“Don’t.’’

Namjoon laughed bitterly.

“Don’t what? Don’t mention how much of a shitty husband you are? Don’t mention her? Shouldn’t I be telling you that? Don’t treat her like a replacement. She isn’t her. She died years ago. I saw her dead body. You saw her dead body. She’s not here anymore, Yoongi. You have to move on.’’

Yoongi’s palms were in fists now, his knuckles turning white, but his voice remained steady.

“She’s not dead.’’

Namjoon looked at Yoongi in disbelief, his expression twisting even further. Namjoon could only laugh, the sound dry and hoarse, and it crackled out like the remnants that Namjoon held in his heart.

“Yoongi.’’ This wasn’t Namjoon. Namjoon rarely got angry at Yoongi; hell, after what happened, he never got even slightly bent up at Yoongi, but he saw your face, contorted and agonized. His voice pressed out like a layer of bitter poison. He was on his feet now. “Fucking wake up. She’s dead. She died!”

“She hasn’t died,’’ Yoongi inhaled a deep breath,” She’s alive; I know it!’’

Namjoon shook his head, and before he knew it, his fist had collided with Yoongi’s jaw, sending Yoongi’s head swiveling to the right. He grabbed Yoongi by the shirt. Yoongi didn’t move, barely flinching from the blooming bruise on his face.

“Get it in your head, bastard. I’ve known you for centuries, Yoongi. I cared about her too, but she’s dead. But you know who’s not dead! Your wife. And she’s dying because of you. You want to cause someone else who loves you to die again?’’

“She’s alive, Namjoon! She died, but she’s back. Namjoon, don’t you understand?’’

Namjoon yanked Yoongi up, curling back his mouth to shout some more, but his words died in his throat before they could rise and leave on his tongue. There was a deranged look in Yoongi’s usually composed eyes. Yoongi looked feral, a murderous beast rippling underneath the façade of the weak human he wore, and Namjoon felt his spine curl in chills.

Namjoon dropped Yoongi back onto the sofa, his chest rising up in rapid heavy breaths, and he shook his head before spitting out his final words.

“You, you’re the one who doesn’t understand. If you don’t get your act together, as your friend, I’ll give you a warning: something will take her away. Whether it be a new suitor or death.”

Namjoon turned to leave, and his hand was on the doorknob when he heard Yoongi’s voice.

“When she died, I made a choice, Namjoon.”

Namjoon didn’t move. His breathing was ragged.

“You ever wonder how I managed to survive this long with most of my power gone? It’s because of her. I made the choice when…when she was bleeding out, I made a pact with the God of life. The God of life knew that I would’ve destroyed that family of bastards and then the world if I had a chance, so he made a deal with me. She would be born as the unloved princess of the same line of people who killed her, but I had to promise that I could not destroy the world. Namjoon, I’m telling you this for a reason.’’

Namjoon turned quickly back, his eyes pinned to Yoongi’s still form on the sofa. He didn’t expect Yoongi to keep talking.

“But we’ve been friends for centuries. You deserve the truth. The deal I made with that bastard wasn’t perfect. When she was reborn, she would be human. Her. She had been so in love with flowers, and now she doesn’t even look at them the same anymore. But God said…,’’ Yoongi inhaled,’’ God said I could have her really back if I was careful. Where she had been stabbed, there’s a mark. If I could make her love me once more and I waited until the Spring Equinox… If I stabbed her through there, I would have my love back.’’

There was a pause to laugh, though it was no laugh of joy. “Isn’t that cruel? I would have to hurt her the way they hurt her. But it’s worth it. It’s worth it if I have a chance to get her back.’’

“Yoongi…!’’ Namjoon’s breath was even more ragged now. Rage colored it. “She’s human. If you kill her, there’s a chance she’ll actually die! That body of hers is human. It can’t contain the power of a deity!’’

“Don’t you think I know that?’’ Yoongi’s voice struck an unruly crescendo, and he finally rose to his feet. Namjoon flinched slightly at the maniacal expression painted in his friend’s once calm eyes. “This is my final chance to bring her back. She’ll never be hurt again! I’ll lock her up in a safe place, my flower, my…my wife.’’

“Don’t you understand what you’re doing is going to hurt her? It’s already hurting her!’’ Namjoon’s voice boomed in a yell, but Yoongi didn’t back down. He was too far now to back down.

“What does it matter? I love her. She’s the same as her, but she’s also not the same. She needs to be completed. The her of now is just a vessel for her true self… And as long as I break it, everything will go back to the way it should’ve been before she decided to trust those mortal bastards over me!’’

There was a tension in the room that couldn’t be swallowed by Yoongi’s increasingly rough breathing. Namjoon’s voice managed to croak out. There was no stability to it, not anymore.

“When you said there’s a reason why you’re telling me this, what is it? You know I’m going to stop you from pulling through with this. She’s dead, Yoongi, and the her of right now is a mortal! She’ll die once more, and what will you do then? As your friend—!’’

“What friend? What friend does a demon even have? And what friend looks at his friend’s wife in that manner, in nearly the same way that I do…! Namjoon, I know you love her.’’ Yoongi’s voice lowered back down to a threateningly calm voice. “And I can’t have that.”

Namjoon steeled himself for a fight, but he was no match for Yoongi. Yoongi was older than him, more powerful than him. He had slain bodies on the battlefield without losing breath. And now, he was going to do the same to Namjoon. Yoongi’s hands wrapped tightly around Namjoon’s neck, and Namjoon choked on a wheezing breath.

Namjoon tried to suck in a shaky breath as his vision splotched. He was a demon. He couldn’t quite die like humans did, but there was an end to all entities, demonic or heavenly, and Yoongi’s power was bitterly overwhelming. Yoongi’s fingers dug into the thin mortal-like flesh of Namjoon, and blood the deep color of ink dribbled out of crescent marks.

“I’ll take into consideration your many years of servitude to me, Namjoon. Your end will be much kinder than the ends of those before you.”

Flowers were peeking through blades of jade-green glass when you finally found yourself outside the rumored garden of the Duke’s first love.

He had gone for the day, and you had bitten the apple of temptation that curiosity had granted you.

You were the duchess; there was no need for you to be so cautious nor feel so guilty. But your gaze darted left and right, careful of any lingering servants, as you pushed your way into the depths of the garden.

Lush flowers greeted you, petals of every shade of the rainbow unfurling and glistening with the morning dew, and you exhaled in soft wonder. The sight was marvelous. The garden was beautiful, and it had been tended to meticulously. The beauty of the garden coupled with the pinpricks of growing despair in your heart as you furthered your way in.

You heard something snap and heard the voices of servants from just outside.

“The Duchess hasn’t been feeling well, hasn’t she?’’ you heard the voice’s echo.

“Ay, it’s unfortunate that the Duke has been too busy to look after her. They used to be so enamored at the beginnin’ of their marriage, but noble marriages…,’’ the responding voice hushed, but you could still hear the last part,” they never really go happy. Especially since rumors been spreading that the Duke still has a first love he can’t forget and only married the Duchess cause she reminded him of ‘er.”

You hurried your pace further in, not wanting to get caught. Your breath hitched, and the agony of those soft words pierced your already aching heart. Your eyes prickled in hot tears. Why, you wanted to scream at yourself as your footsteps quickened and your vision blurred, why were you so weak?

He had treated you so well. He loved you, didn’t he?

Your ankle twisted as your shoe slipped on the wet ground, and you were sent sprawling into the ground, grass and mud staining your dress. You looked pathetic, wet and muddy and close to tears…and then you looked up and made eye contact with the gray statue standing in front of you.

It had been carefully carved in the image of a young girl, holding an armful of flower bouquets—you noticed that the flowers were not made of stone like the rest of her and that they were fresh, as if someone had tenderly made sure to replace them every day—in her arms and beaming widely as her legs raised in a gleeful skip. She looked alive, but most importantly…she looked exactly like you.

From the slope of her nose to the curve of her lips and even to the way her eyes turned up in a playful smile, reminiscent of the naïve you of the past, she was every inch you like you were every centimeter her.

The answer to the previous question rang and echoed painfully in your head: No.

Your tears broke free from its constraints. They dripped down your cheeks like blood drops, and you muffled a sob as the cruel truth dug its blade into your heart and left you painfully bleeding out in a beautiful garden filled with the past’s flowers.

You allow him to embrace you as the waning moonlight slowly aligned itself to match the glowing sunlight. Even when he seemed distracted, and you could tell his thoughts were drifting back to her, you would shamelessly bring him closer to you, spread your legs farther apart and moan more like the whore you were. Anything, you would repeat to yourself, anything to keep him to you.

But if you were willing to do anything for him to love you, why did you find hot tears spilling onto your cheeks as you watched the sleeping him? The moonlight would embrace his skin, light it up like it was alabaster, and you would realize that perhaps the love he had shown you before was like the love an artist gave to a statue: tender but shallow.

Even then, you would lose yourself in your own rosy-painted memories, in which he tenderly cradled your hand and told you how beautiful you had looked the night of the ball. You loved him; you loved him too much.

But why, if you loved him so, did you hide your nausea to yourself? Why did you pick at meals and force yourself to eat them despite the growing urge to vomit? Why did you hide? Did you want to remain eternally beautiful and pure to him, like the innocent girl laughing silently in that wretched garden?

Did he ever love you?

When the hours of moonlight finally clicked to match the hours of daylight, you received your answer.

The moonlight served to guide your clumsy fingers. You were carefully embroidering a delicate lily, though it did not look as lovely as you had hoped, into a pure ivory handkerchief when the door of your shared room with the Duke clicked open.

“My wife.”

His face was solemn as ever, but there was a soft light that glowed in his cool eyes. The tenderness on his face was reminiscent of the kind he used to have for you back in the earlier days of your marriage. You were enthralled, bewitched, and entranced as he took quick paces towards you. He swept you up in his arms, his embrace strong and firm, and the handkerchief slipped from your still figures.

If you had not been immersed in the high of his affection, you would have been despaired over the handkerchief, with its half-finished lily, getting dirty. Your mother, before her death, used to adore lilies. She would smile bittersweetly as the bouquet of lilies delivered from the king dwindled and wilted before smoothing your hair down, her voice dim as she spoke.

“I used to love lilies…They stand for three things: devotion, humility, and…”

The third part seemed to escape your mind, but you found yourself not caring as much as Yoongi’s grip on you tightened.

“My Duke, what are y—?’’ you gasped out in surprise.

His voice cut you off, the sound rough and haggard and…exhilarated.

You felt something in your gut alert you of danger, but you did not care. He was holding you; you melted in his touch.

“My wife, I must ask you a dire question,’’ his voice echoed in the silent room,” Do you love me, my wife…Do you love me?’’

Your response spilled out of your lips as if you were bewitched by a spell. Your words were coated in a pathetic, desperate vulnerability.

“Yes, husband, I love you! I love you, I love you, I love you so much.”

Your breath hitched as his grip strengthened, and your brain was covered in a dizzy haze as you tried to gasp for a deeper inhale of air. He pulled away; you were surprised, briefly, at how cruel his eyes looked in the moonlight despite the warmth exuding from him.

“Good. My wife, I love you. I have a surprise for you, but you must trust me. Hold my hand,’’ he reached his hand out, and your hand was clasped in his iron-cold hand before you could fully process your thought. You blindly trusted him, even when he took out a fine silk ribbon.

It was a beautiful shade of gold, though slightly dirty, but your lips twitched nervously as you noticed small splatters of red dying the fabric. However, Yoongi’s gentle smile never wavered, and like an innocent lamb awaiting slaughter, you closed your eyes and let him tie it around you.

“Perfect. You look beautiful, my wife.”

Your heart skipped a beat. All of the love he had ever shown you before had been subtle. But it poured and oozed out of every word that he had spoken. You were foolishly giddy.

You could feel a slight skip in your step as Yoongi guided you. Step by step, you placed your trust in him. You did not hear any other sound other than the footsteps of Yoongi and you. It was unnerving, almost, the silence in the halls. But even when you heard something squelch, like the carpet had been soaked in some liquid, underneath the wooden soles of your slippers, you did not let your footsteps waver.

You were outside now. Your shoes brushed against grass and grated against stone, and you felt the merciless night wind whip at your hair before slowing down to a gentle breeze. You shivered and sought warmth, but there was no warmth, not even in Yoongi’s hand around yours, outside of the ribbon around your eyes.

“My wife, we are here,” you felt Yoongi let go of your hand, and his fingertips brushed against your cheek as he reached to undo the gold ribbon. The fabric fluttered down, the softness of it remaining on your face as you made petrified eye contact with the statue.

It was her; she held new flowers in her hands. A bundle of lilies sparkled white in the moonlight, and you felt your face go ashy. You remembered the final third meaning of lilies: restored innocence after death.

“Duke…Yoongi, what’s…What’s,’’ you tried to sputter out. Your pupils were dilated from fear, and you did not shake from the cold. No, you trembled from a deep sense of fearful dread. You flung your arms and embraced yourself as the nausea boiled in your gut and rose in your throat like acrid steam.

He got closer to you, and the moonlight illuminated the mania in his eyes and the glint of a blade. There was no calm before the storm; no, this was the storm. You let out a shrill scream and turned to run away.

Your feet tore up grass in your frenzy, but he was the Duke that many had rumored came from hell. He cut down thousands on the battlefield and emerged each time drenched in blood. It was then, as he reached out and grabbed your arm in a callous, bruising grip, that you came to see the monster that lingered in the human shell you had loved.

He shoved you down to the ground, and his voice pitched as he spat out: “The first night that you had died, I had nearly killed them all. I had planned on vengeance, on soaking this damned earth in blood, but I made a deal. The God said if I spared their creation, I could have you back…You would be human, disgusting and impure like the ones who had slain you…but I could change that. Only if I eliminate the stench of humanity from you.”

You scrambled back as he approached and hugged your stomach. You could already feel the sting of the blade, but you still cried out as the blade glinted in his hand.

“Yoongi, I’m pregnant!’’ you kept your eyes firmly on him,” Yoongi, I have your child! Please, please, if you kill me, this child will die!”

The blade in Yoongi’s hand paused as your breath caught in your throat.

His voice was weak and trembled slightly as he spoke. He was so vicious just a second prior, but now he looked ready to collapse. “My…my child…”

You sought to further his hesitation, to save not only yourself but your child too, and it seemed easy enough to begin weeping once more as your emotions soared to a rattled high.

“If you kill me, you kill this child. Our child. You asked me to call you Yoongi when we married,’’ you sucked in a shaky breath,” Didn’t I mean something to you? And if not me, what about our child? I look so much like…so much like her that our baby would surely resemble her too. Please, Yoongi, my husband, please, please, please!’’

His eyes flickered to the blade in his hand and back to the red mark peeking through the neckline of your gown. There was a resolute light that returned to his suddenly brighter red eyes that startled your heart back into a fiercer race in your chest.

No, please, you silently begged him and hugged your stomach.

“We can always,’’ he swallowed, and your eyes stilled in a conflicting hopelessness as he raised the blade back up once more,” When you’re her again, we can always have more children. We’ll have so many, as much as we want; that will be my apology for taking away our first child. You’ll understand…She would understand.”

The blade shing-ed as it pierced downwards through the night towards your chest, and you clenched your eyes shut and tried to shield your unborn child.

The sound abruptly stopped, and you heard a muffled groan accompany a heavy thud against the ground. You peeked open your eyes, and you choked on shock.

The man before you looked exhausted and you saw broken iron clasped around one of his wrists. There was exhaustion rimmed underneath his eyes, but you saw firm courage in them too.

“N…Namjoon! Namjoon, Namjoon, please, please save my child!’’ you were screaming hysterically, your eyes hazy as you refused to let your arms fall from around your stomach.

He glanced back at you. That courage grew, and you felt wretched as the bitter taste of grief bite at your tongue. You knew what you were asking for was selfish. You had been selfish from the beginning.

You were selfish to want a happy ending. You were selfish to yearn for a family of three with the Duke, your child’s chubby fingers placed in the hands of each parent, and you were selfish to want to not lose someone else important to you either.

“Go…Go…Now!’’ he called out to you. “He’ll get up soon; you have to leave!’’

You stumbled back up on weak legs. Tears rose in your swollen eyes.

“Please, Namjoon, I can’t…,’’ you choked on a ragged sob,” I can’t leave you here!’’

“You have to!’’ his eyes darted back to Yoongi’s collapsed form,” I’ll come back for you. So hurry…Go!’’

“Promise! You have to be safe!’’ At the sound of Yoongi—no, the Duke—getting up from the ground, you forced yourself to kick your shoes off, turn around, and run away. As pebbles and branches bit at your naked feet, you could hear the sound of fighting. Please, Namjoon be safe, you prayed.

When you reached outside of the garden, you heard a loud choked yell of pain and closed your eyes shut as tears bit once more at them. Was…Was Namjoon dead? You looked back into the darkness of the maze-like garden, the darkness even more haunting with the grave silence permeating it, and you felt grief swell in your gut. You were sobbing now, ready to collapse into the unforgiving dirt, but Namjoon was willing to risk his life for you. You could not stop now.

You saw a figure standing outside, blocking the path away from the garden. Though it was dark, you managed to make out who he was as you got closer. His previously youthful and cheerful features were carefully set back in a more aged look. It was the aid that the Duke had hired for you: Jungkook.

“My goddess, the demon has sacrificed his life for you. Though you are human, God had sent me to guide you. The demon king had promised that he would not slain any other life in vain, and with the death of the demon, that promise has been unfulfilled. But God is merciful…They will protect you and your unborn child from danger.”

The aid’s voice was stony, unlike the light tone he had adopted before, but somehow, that very sound relaxed you. You had no one else to trust now and no way to live securely with your child.

The angel extended a hand, just like the Duke had extended his hand out to you while plotting to end your life.

“Will you take my hand, and let me protect you for as long as you may live?’’

You stared at his hand…and shook your head.

“God’s human servant humbly cannot agree to this. I do not need your forever protection, angel. Please, as long as you find a place safe for my unborn child, I will do whatever is necessary, but I am not willing to fully take the hand of a stranger so soon after a betrayal.”

You felt a tinge of a smile at Jungkook’s…no the angel’s lips, reminiscent of the days in which you had once felt happiness.

“God has always given their promises carefully. Not many mortals have ever refused the divine help. Many have even dared to push the boundaries of such promises.”

You placed a gentle hand over your stomach.

“As long as my child is safe, to me that is all that matters. Please, angel, help me once to only fulfill security for my baby.”

“Then, take my hand now. I have never witnessed a human refuse the hand of an angel before. If a devout believer were to witness you, would you not be labelled as a sinner?” the angel’s voice was almost teasing, had the sound not been so dry and flat.

“Labelled with this damned red mark, I have been a sinner the day I arrived on this earth, angel. It seems to be in my lineage to be nothing more than a sinner.’’ You wryly spoke and reached out your hand, finally taking his. You glanced once more back at the garden, blackened by the shadowy darkness and stench of death.

As you left this wretched place, where you had found love and had been destroyed by love, where you had been pushed and grown from the feeble girl of the past, where you had made memories despite how brief its actuality had been, the statue of the girl began to crumble and the bouquet of white lilies in her hand began to wilt, and as dust and crumbled petals fell to the ground, they became stained once more in red.

A/n: It’s finally the end of the main story :’) As always, leave a comment or a detailed review if you enjoyed the story.

A special chapter from Yoongi’s perspective and an epilogue will be coming (reply with a 👑 if you aren’t on the taglist yet and want to be updated for those parts), and then Lineage will reach its final final conclusion.

Thank you, and lmk of any mistakes (I never edit sjsjsj)!

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oneoftheprettynerds · 3 years

Text

Fixed: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 4 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 3: Love So Soft

Main Masterlist

A/N: It’s shorter than my usual updates but I’m busy so sorry for the delay. My final exam dates have come and all I can do is pray right now lol. Please pray for me if you can, this sis is out here writing fanfics for yall instead of studying so, haha. ANyways, enjoy babies! Shit happens in this chapter.

Warning: Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Word count: 5K

Chapter 4: Fixed

You didn’t sleep that night. Or the next few. Your hands shook every time you got a flashback and even though you were numb to emotions that entire day, tears threatened to spill whenever your mind took to you to that overpriced kitchen again.

Now that he had gone to a dangerous and unnerved assaulter from a Dad trying to take care of his daughter, your mind wouldn’t put anything past him. You knew that in the back of your mind that he was a mobster and your ‘friendship’ was alarming to say the least, but now there was no denying his resources and power and the very obvious threat to your life lingering in the air.

At least before you had the luxury to be oblivious and ignorant, not anymore though. Steve felt even more unhinged and liberal now, even messaging you daily, greeting texts that you obviously ignored. He knew you both were aware that you never handed him your number and he felt no need to hide his pursuit.

You read most of the messages, not bothering with a single reply though. You tried to block him but somehow your phone would still receive messages from his number, even though his contact would always peek back at you from the otherwise empty blacklist.

As if his torment wasn’t ample, another message thread from a different number would forward you alarming images, photos of Grace in her daycare, on a class trip to the park and even her playing in your backyard. You had no doubt that this was another game of his to show you his resources.

You skipped daycare for a few days, your mental health worse than it was after the carnival attack, because now you had a personal tormentor and you cursed yourself for falling into this mess. At times, you believed it wasn’t your fault really, you just helped a kid and this situation spiraled itself but what would pointing fingers now get you? The harsh truth was you were in a calamitous situation now and every step from now on had to be thought out.

So, you let Grace attend her daycare and acted if nothing was amiss or altered, after the few initial breakdown days of course, kept going to your job and earning the bread. You considered your options, you really wanted to go to the cops or a higher fair power but those were few these days, almost non existent in your city. You also vaguely recalled meeting three of the Captains of the PD at Sarah’s birthday, all smiley and doe eyed for Steve. You knew they wouldn’t help, fucking kiss-asses.

Maybe you would have to move somewhere else, perhaps to your hometown, at least till things cooled down or better yet were forgotten? But that trail was very predictable and you didn’t want your parents in this mess.

You also came to know that Steve had inserted himself in the other spheres of your life. You were sure your location was always being sent to him, the knowledge a courtesy of the black car following you while you travelled to home at some late day��s end.

Aiden told you whereabouts were easy to track, when you inquired ambiguously. Another instance was when you went to the bank to deposit cash for your debit card, you came face to face with an enormous amount already there. Somehow, the limit on your credit card was also extended. How, you knew. The clerk told you about an email you must have gotten in regards to it, you dismissed that justification away and told them to not accept the cash. To sum the discussion, they weren’t helpful and had no policy against anonymous donors.

Aiden, your trusted coworker cum pal, sensed the shift in your aura and fidgety form very easily, pestering you with questions and you decided to turn to him, stressed and tired and ready to do something. His questioning eyebrows made you confess vaguely but you refused to tell him the extent of it. Just that his prediction came true and you needed help. Let’s just say, Aiden was a good man.

With time, Steve’s ‘affectionate’ messages became deranged, and you found it harder to act nonchalant in your daily life. You were thankful he didn’t come to visit you, possibly occupied with the rumored war between the mobs. You just prayed for a few more days of ignorance, just enough time to think and do something.

“What do you mean someone collected her?!” You had a hard time controlling your voice, you were about to burst, in tears or with anger, you didn’t know.

“The man was verified in the emergency contacts and we got a letter signed and approved by you to skip the day an hour into the first activity.”

“A man? Emergen-, wait no! What fucking approved letter?”

You had three emergency contacts, your mom in another state, Aiden, and one of the other kid’s mom you had grown close to. Aiden was with you at work all day, so did someone disguise themselves as him? And what was the deal with the letter signed by you? You surely didn’t remember writing and authorizing one.

The boy, Pietro, who had been the receptionist for as long as you could remember, shuffled through the chaotic piles of paper and presented a letter to you, and your blood froze as your eyes skimmed the font.

Your beautiful cursive stared right back at you and you knew that no one would ever be able to distinguish between this penmanship and the one in the pocketbook in your clutch. No one but you. Even though you knew you had not written it, the slightly different ‘f’ and ‘g’ told you everything.

Your signature at the bottom though, was done quite perfectly and that made you even more scared.

“I did-, I didn’t write this! What the-” Your widened eyes met Pietro’s from above the paper but all he offered you was a meek smile. Your hands shook with rage and for the first time in your life, you had the urge to slap someone really bad.

“Maybe your family had an emergency to take he-”

“No, you don’t get it!” You stopped yourself from getting frantic, willing yourself to take deep breaths and think rationally. Today of all days, things had to mess up.

He didn’t know you had no family in this city, that you had a mobster after you or the subtle threats that his hired spy sent to you.

Was going to the police an option? Aiden already told you that the cops were as good as Steve’s men. But this was about your missing kid! You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to her. And you were giving Steve way too much credit, what if he wasn’t behind this all? Come to think of it, what if the other number wasn’t his?

Relax yourself! Thinking of disturbing theories wouldn’t help anyone. You thought you should go to the cops, just in case. No mentioning of Steve, just a woman with a ‘missing child’ report.

‘Missing Child’ left an acrid taste behind and you were too close to a breakdown, but your whole journey of single-parenthood taught you to kick vulnerability aside, well most of the times.

You turned and were about to leave, but Pietro stopped you. “If you are going to the cops Ma’am, they require 8 hours of inactivity or disappearance time for kids under 5.”

Well look who just read your mind.

You huffed and kept the tears at bay, your mind thinking of what to do then? Grace was obviously taken-

“How could you let a toddler leave without informing the parents?” You knew your anger was channeling out at the wrong man but didn’t he all but hand Grace to the stranger?

You beat him answering and inquired, “What did the man look like? Do you have any footage? Anything?” The wrinkles in your forehead and stress creases on your face paired with the eyebags betrayed your age surely. You were sure you had aged more this week than an entire decade, juggling your normal life with the hovering threat.

“You shouldn’t be this worried Ma’am.”

The fucking audacity.

“Your daughter recognized him, she all but ran to him and this other little girl he came with. You should maybe ask your parent-friends around? A blonde family perhaps?”

As all the emotions drained from your face and terror took over, the young lad in front of you looked smug. You wondered as if you imagined the faintest of smirks on his face.

You crumpled the letter in your hands, seething with rage as you stepped in your car. Oh, you were mad, more wrathful than ever. You could take any hits on you, any threat but not on Grace, never on her.

You were stupid, you had already decided you wouldn’t put anything past him but unknowingly, you did put this past him. You thought this man had a shred of decency to not use your kid in this adult war, being a parent himself and all but what a surprise! You were wrong.

You drove to your home, your thoughts a mix of trepidation, anxiety and fury. You were scared of him and his reach and resources but if he put Grace in any type of danger; whether to teach you a lesson or use her as bait or both, there’d be consequences.

Lord knows you killed a man a month ago Grace was threatened.

You had one thing to do before contacting Steve about Grace but you never got to do it because unexpectedly the bastard was in your home. In your home.

The black sports car outside was a huge giveaway but your suspicions were confirmed when you opened the door with your house key. The banter and giggles from inside alarmed yet calmed you; the dread of confrontation and the assurance of Grace’s safety reigned your mind.

As the door opened painfully slow like a horror movie, the sight that met your eyes made you sick with a feeling of failure. It wasn’t gore or blood or grunge, it was Steve bouncing Grace in the air and catching her while Sarah twirled around in the living room.

This man was craftier than you thought, every action of his was calculated, each a refined step. You had been so preoccupied to avoid direct encounters with him in your little family’s life that you didn’t think he had other ways. He was always looming around with Sarah and as Grace began to trust Sarah, she consequently began to trust her blonde guardian too.

As you slammed the door behind you, Steve’s eyes snapped to yours and his smirk made you want to punch him so hard. The smugness on his face while he let Grace down without breaking eye contact told you he had no regret, no remorse. In fact, he was loving every second of this cat and mouse chase between you two.

You were a millimeter close to losing your shit, the only check being the kids in the room. But you were mad and he was going to know it.

“What the hell, Steve? Messing with my kid?” You threw your clutch onto the couch, Steve haughty by the reception of his sent message but still holding back because of the kids. He called Wanda and you didn’t really notice where she came from but you did register Steve asking to take the girls to the park for a ‘private discussion’.

As Grace passed by you, you grabbed her arm lightly, making her look at you with doe eyes resembling yours. You gave her a smile trying to ease her, but you knew she was smart enough to sense the change in the atmosphere.

Apparently, the whining Sarah wasn’t.

You looked back to Steve, your hold still on Grace and continued with a frown and raised eyebrows, “She isn’t going anywhere, not out of my sight and obviously not with you or your goons.”

Wanda had the audacity to look offended and you scoffed at her, eyes staring Steve’s down.

“Honey, I don’t think the kids should hear what I think you have to say right now.” He said nodding to Wanda to take Grace.

“You must be deranged to think I trust Grace near anyone even remotely related to you! Take your people and get out.” You held your hand up to stop Wanda and pointed towards the door with the most menacing glare you could form.

Grace looked incomprehensibly between you two, concern and confusion on her face. That might have been the first time such a tone was used in your household. The grumbling Sarah was close to throwing a tantrum, irritated by the change in the playful air or the lack of attention to her, you didn’t know. She was hanging on Wanda’s forearm, her feet slipping on your printed rug. Wanda was trying to not look hurt still by your previous statement, distracting herself by the blonde kid and you were baffled by her obliviousness to all this.

Steve, the beefy blonde Lucifer, was furious and seething. His white knuckles and ticking jaw were the most obvious giveaways, the fingers just itching to beat the shit out of someone no doubt.

Was he imagining striking you into compliance into his weird playhouse game complex? You wouldn’t be surprised given the extent of his attempt to ‘win’ you over.

The ‘get out’ tone and blatant disrespect was a bruise to his ego for sure, and by you, a middle-class woman nonetheless was a worse injury. Steve was the deadly boss to armored men in the vicinity, the kids’ father figure, according to him, and Wanda’s stern yet kind employer.

People had been killed for less and there you were, standing in all your glory, being the only person alive to reject Steve Rogers and now, the only to raise your voice at him.

You almost scoffed at his impudence to look offended, what did he expect? For you to submit to him after the stunt he pulled? His reach was scary he proved today and that any future with him in your life in any way, was a fearsome possibility to entertain but you’d be damned if you went down without a fight.

“You can’t make me leave; we both know. You don’t have the physical edge nor the mental one. I have no problem drawing out G-U-N-S in front of the kids or to throw the warnings around, although I would prefer not to.”

Your free hand itched to slap him, like how his did minutes ago. It wasn’t a mankind problem about men thinking they were entitled to everything; it was a Steve Rogers’s problem. Of course, with him consent didn’t matter. If he had a ‘housewife, kids and fences’ fixation, he’d make it come true.

“Do you even listen to what I say? Or your own words even? Please, go ahead! Traumatise my kid and also yours in your wooing process! Why are you so obsessed? Leave us alone, you freak! I just ignored few messages!” You had a hard time maintaining your cool, if there was any left. You were sure you were scaring Grace and no matter what happened next, you knew she was already traumatized by this entire ordeal already. You were so sorry, so, so, so sorry to your poor baby caught in this mess.

You knew, no, you hoped, he wouldn’t pull out the gun, his actions at the carnival a proof, you remembered how he hid his gun on finding Sarah. That threat was empty but the next one wasn’t, his words making you freeze in your spot.

“I think you keep on misunderstanding me, sweetheart. I don’t make empty promises,”

Posh word for threats.

“For starters, maybe I should pay my future in-laws a visit in their blue duplex. They might need help with the vast garden they have, it is the season for ‘violets’, isn’t it?”

As you froze with your parents being brought up, he also cooled, albeit differently, smirking once again gaining the upper hand, not that he lost it if you were being honest.

“Isn’t threatening my kid enough for you, Steve?” You hated how your loud voice almost broke, your anger slowly subsiding into helplessness and you hated that. You hated his guts, his entitlement, his claim; everything about him.

“You still don’t see it, do you? Our family of four is the most important thing to me right now and I’m not above doing anything to save it.”

“There is no family of four Steve! I keep explaining and you keep coming back to square one with all this bullshit!” The curse word did tick Steve off but he would correct that later, when bigger things weren’t at ploy.

“Your ignorance makes me a little mad sometimes sweetheart and that is why I have to do all I do. You haven’t realized we need each other yet, but I’m staying until you do and even after that, I promise. You know how much it pissed me off to see your tickets and the packed suitcases after I’ve been nothing but nice? I was so generous to spoil you with my riches but instead I find that in your finances.”

This fucker knew. Of course, he did!

You were wondering in the back of your head what had prompted this visit with so many threats and warnings and anguish. He was pissed even before you ‘acted out’, he tracked the tickets and the plan and that meant he even tracked-

“You have so much to learn, but luckily you interact with quite a few people. I am most tempted to start out with this Aiden guy, trying to be the hero and giving you all the ideas. Maybe I should visit him?” Steve wondered out loud, and you flinched at his suggestion, hating how you were trapped by this man.

You couldn’t live with yourself if anyone got hurt because of you, be it your parents or Aiden or any other possibility Steve would come up with. Of course, Grace was your peak priority but you doubted he would hurt her as he threatened to harm them.

“Steve, please.” The fire was almost out, your hands trembling, Grace worried and Steve smug.

“Let the kids go and I think we can come to a conclusion.”

“Steve this needs to stop.” You said, your breaths heavy and helplessness clawing away at you.

“I won’t repeat myself.” He voiced out with a threatening edge, gesturing to Grace and Wanda, clearly telling you to first get the kids out.

For a deranged fucktard, he sure cared about the kids a lot.

You loosened your hold on Grace, patting her arm softly and nudged her to Wanda. Wanda received her little hand and enticed the kids with the promise of ice-cream. Sarah clapped her hands and as the trio left, Grace did look over her shoulders at you in concern and for permission, majorly in concern though. You nodded and waved, a tear dropping as soon as the door clicked shut.

You were still staring at the door, not wanting to meet Steve’s stormy blue orbs when he began, “Today was a slip up that I won’t tolerate again. Neither the cursing nor the dramatics.”

We aren’t in a fucking play, what the fuck is he labelling as dramatics?

Your eyes slowly flickered to his, and you had a hard time not letting the tears escape except the one traitorous one earlier. The fatigue, the worry of Grace’s disappearance, the threats to your friends and family were all catching up to you. It took all in you to stay strong and not fall down right now.

“Steve this isn’t funny anymore. It’s sick and you know it! I just said no! Was that so inexcusable that you had to follow up with this? You have violated me for that, broken into my home and now kidnapped my daughter! At what extent will you stop?” You broke down finally, arms a flailing mess as fat tears rolled down. Nothing scared more than the helplessness this moment. He won and he knew it. The carnival incident was nothing in comparison to this. The only good thing you could hope in all this was a safe Grace but that too only if you complied, which seemed like what you would do now given your attempts at fighting back and scampering have failed laughably.

“Gosh, I forgot how theatrical women are. You are smart darling; you know what I want from day one, just a happy family. Nothing that horrendous has happened and especially not as badly as put it. I’m just looking out for you and me in the long run.” Steve slowly treaded towards you, his hand extended to pat your arm comfortingly but you involuntarily flinched at contact and stepped back. Steve clearly didn’t like that as he caught your arm in a bruising grip and jerked you towards him. Manhandling you as your wet hands rushed to ease his grip was not a tough task for Steve, a surprise to none.

“Stop trembling like I’ve actually done something to harm you!”

Steve clearly didn’t know how to comfort women and it showed.

You stopped with the cowering away, even though it disgusted you to be this much in close proximity with your assaulter. He clearly had anger issues and no clue how to solve them. You needed to steer the conversation right and get him out. You could see your hands visibly shake as you put them on his chest, just to create some distance and in a way of surrendering to not fight. The tears slowed but you don’t think they stopped; it was hard to tell with a million other things on your mind.

As your eyes made contact, Steve loosened his grip, clearly a bit satisfied by your submission, as he began counting to help you breathe. As much as you hated to admit, it helped you and you got a flashback to the time when you freaked out on him about Grace at that extravagant dinner date. That was a sweet gesture then, not so sweet now. Funny how drastically things change with time.

It wasn’t so much Steve’s help as it was your own mind telling you to be fucking smart about the whole ordeal right now.

“Good. Better. Now let’s talk. Why were you planning to run away? I’ve been busy and coming home to find out that wasn’t joyful, you know.” His smile suggested a better mood than before but his voice, his husky voice always had this daring edge that almost challenged you to defy him but at the same time warned you of unpleasant consequences if you did.

“Steve, I’m scared.” You spoke with utmost honesty. “The part of the world you associate yourself with scares me. You can’t blame me for not wanting that life for Grace, I mean you have a kid of your own. Wasn’t the carnival attack specifically on Sarah?”

The reasoning was right but you knew you triggered him the moment his smile evaporated. He either felt insulted as a parent or disrespected in his profession or probably both.

He was fighting his inner demons already and you pointing it out was a slap to his face, a hit he didn’t want to take.

“That was a slip up, I admit. Never again. I’m only human, okay?” He convinced himself and you, his grip tightening a bit again.

Oh no, not the right direction to take.

You reckoned he still had nightmares about it like you, he really did love Sarah a lot, all things aside.

“Besides, I am looking out for you! Out for you and Grace and Sarah. I remember my promise of never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

You definitely didn’t trust his security or his people because what sort of a mobster let his daughter get targeted and possibly abducted? You definitely didn’t know the whole story or if it was just a bad day but he wasn’t a person that deserved some slack. Despite all this, you knew what all he held above you, above a common man. He might not be ‘Kingpin’ skilled but a threat to you nonetheless.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Is that what you call following me around, huh?” which you immediately regretted.

“Trust the process, baby. Everything is just to protect you.”

Is that what he called stalking even Grace around and twistedly enough, sending you proof of that? The anonymous thread of photos was another nightmare of yours, thanks to him. The last being a candid photo inside Grace’s room, her sleeping in her bed this morning and that’s when you decided you needed to get out. Of course, that didn’t go as planned.

“How am I supposed to do that when you have cameras in my house?!” You scoffed and he reeled back at the accusation, having the nerve to look impressed at being uncovered and caught red-handed.

“Oh my fucking God, it was you! You sick pervert!” You jumped out of his grip, your eyes wide and horrified. “I wasn’t aware of what to make of it but of course, it was you! Who else would be sick enough to do that?” You let out a humorless chuckle. You always put things past him even when you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t. When will you ever learn huh?

You were full on panicking yet again, this man was an assaulter, a stalker and a creep too. It would have made a good dark, psychological thriller for you to watch if you weren’t the protagonist about to suffer his obsession.

He reached out to steady you again, but you whipped and stumbled back, realizing too late that you elbowed Steve’s nose so bad that there was a crunch. That, right there, was the look a man real-fucking-furious on Steve’s face and now you could see the feared mobster, the man who was personally terrorizing you under the beautiful, Greek God façade.

Steve reacted so fast even with an injury that in a split second, your view of his face turned into a view of his crotch.

“You do realize that there are others ways for me to teach you obedience? I think it’s fucking time you show me your gratitude for my care and attention and apologize for your misconduct and unkind response.” Steve spoke with a hoarse voice, a voice running out of patience and just about done with defiance.

His hand fisted your hair, maintaining eye contact while he nodded between you and his crotch. You knew what he wanted, what he was expecting as ‘thanks’.

“Steve, please no, you don’t-”

His other hand grabbed your jaw, stopping you from speaking as he warned, “I think you have done just enough talking for today, so why don’t you put that tongue to a better use and show me how sorry you are. Better make it convincing because I’d hate to pay one of your friends a visit and then bitch about a nasty blowjob.” He smirked at the end of his monologue, eyes shining with triumph and amusement.

You wouldn’t let him harm anyone else, you couldn’t. You and your daughter were already knee-deep in a pit and at this point, it’d just be cruel to drag someone else in. With shaky hands opening his pants, you just hoped you could get Grace out before you eventually were buried in it.

“Now that’s a good girl. Submissive is a sexy look on you.” His hands patted your hair, playing with your tresses while yours pulled his pants and then briefs down.

His member jerked out, almost slapping you in the face as you recoiled at his insolence to get hard and erect at your torment. Your disdain must have shown which he took as admiration and derision to take his affluent cock in.

“No need to get shy, I have faith you’ll be able take it just as well in your pretty pussy as you will right now. Open up-”

“Steve, I beg you-”

Just as you had cut him off, he interrupted your pleading. Your gag reflex was probably the most efficient in the world but that turned this narcissist on. It had been years since you had done it, never with a man as beefy as Steve.

His taste was salty and if you had to put it into better words, it was the like overpriced sea salt flakes that you never bought. High and pricey and for the entitled.

Your hands clutched at his thighs as you blacked out multiple times; your jaw aching, uvula swaying and tears escaping. Him forcing himself on you brough a new sense of vulnerability as your body trembled. Steve relished like a sadist, practically rutting into you all by himself as you just sat there with your jaw unnaturally open.

His obscene moans and groans were crass and nauseating and you just prayed for this to be over soon and for no one to walk in on this, especially your kid.

It seemed like it would never end, your body dehydrating with all the spit it produced, the drool dribbling and landing just beside your knees on your printed rug. You would have to throw that out.

The tears stooped after some point, the sobbing an unnecessary action that just tired you out more on this eventful day. You moved your tongue around to prevent your teeth from scratching him when he shifted angles. If this was what he did on slightly mad, you didn’t want to find what he did for a more serious punishment.

Apparently, that action was something that turned him on even more, his breath hitching as neared closure. In broken whispers he demanded that again and you complied, wanting to get done with it.

He growled in the moment of his release and you tried to lean back but his grip didn’t relent. “Swallow.” His grainy, exasperated voice said out loud and you knew better than to defy.

He released you and you fell on to the rug, hip bruising by knocking into some furniture and tears coming back again after being hydrated by his seed. He packed himself, his smile smug and content as his expressions truly resembled ecstasy being personified.

“You be a good fiancée from now on and maybe you’ll have all your friends alive and present at our wedding. No cheeky business from now on, got it?” Steve hummed then and strutted out, not even bothering to listen to your reply.

As soon as the door slammed, your eyes closed and your demons danced again.

There was no right direction to take when you were stuck in a loop.

633 notes · View notes

sleeping-on-cracking-ice · 3 years

Note

pls do part two of “you're everything you once hated” 🥺

Alright! I originally wasn’t going to do a Part 2 of this but a few people have asked so here you go! 😙

You’re Everything You Once Hated | Suguru Niragi

PART 1 | PART 2

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

{Main Masterlist}

Character(s): Niragi (ft. OC, Ann, Tatta, Hatter, Kuina)

Summary: You attempt to escape Niragi to replenish your visa by yourself, but he catches you and makes sure you won’t do it again

Warnings: (okay here we go) blood, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, obsessive themes, suggestive themes, graphic violence/torture, needles, being held hostage, deranged behaviour, reader is traumatised, implications of a panic attack, dehumanisation (kind of?), mention of amputation, mention of suicide, guns, knives, reader sees a corpse, minor character death

Word Count: 4.6k

*reader is female

Author’s Note: this is quite heavy and messed up, so I recommend people under 15 don’t read this

The young man leant against the large building, holding a small rose in his sweaty palms as he waited for you to arrive from your after school class. He winced as the thorns slightly caught on his olive skin. He sighed and craned his neck back to rest on the wall behind him. No matter how much he attempted to distract himself, the rate his heart was beating kept bringing the nausea to his stomach.

The sky was painted a soft mix of orange and pink as the sun began to fall asleep below the horizon. Valentine’s Day couldn’t have created a more romantic atmosphere for Niragi, he couldn’t mess it up now or he would let cupid down himself.

“What the hell am I even doing?” he questioned himself, wiping his brow with the back of his wrist. “She probably doesn’t even see me this way. We’ve been best friends for years, if she felt something she would’ve told me by now, right?”

He was stressing himself out, continuing the doubt whether his idea was good or not. He was considering dropping the rose and just walking away, being too afraid of the reality that he had been in love with you for years and had never been able to voice it. He felt embarrassed about himself, making his head fill with insecurities and doubts.

His phone vibrating in his pocket pulled him from his thoughts. Niragi reached into his blazer and pulled out his device, noticing a text from you.

‘I’m on my way,’ it read.

He heard your footsteps around the corner and straightened himself up, letting out a sigh to relieve tension. He knew there was no going back now, so he had no choice but to go ahead with his confession.

Just as he was about to turn the corner to meet you, he noticed a male voice that echoed yours, making him freeze in his tracks. He kept himself pushed against the wall, trying to listen to what you were saying.

“I mean, movies are cheap at the moment. Do you want to go see one together?” Niragi heard the boy say. His heart sank at the males words and his hand holding the rose fell from his chest to drooping towards the ground.

Your voice, that was all too familiar to Niragi, answered him. “Sure! I’m busy this afternoon, but I’m free this weekend on Saturday.”

Saturday. Niragi frowned. You and him always went to the park together every Saturday to have a picnic together. You wouldn’t forget about that, would you?

His disappointment turned into anger suddenly. The exhilarating emotions filled his mind and heart so quickly, it took him off guard. As his hand twitched slightly, he shook his head to remove the thoughts from his head.

“Okay, I’ll send you a text later to talk about times and stuff,” the boy said. Niragi’s curiosity got the best of him and he peeked his head around the side of the building to catch a glance of who you were with. He wished he didn’t.

It was one of the young kids that picked on him in Science class, which you weren’t in. Niragi felt betrayed, but tried to reassure himself that you just didn’t know what this guy was really like.

“Bye Y/N,” the boy muttered shyly, making Niragi fume at his fake behaviour. ‘He obviously is just trying to get in her pants,’ Niragi thought to himself, jaw clenching in annoyance at your blindness.

The boy leaned close to you and left a soft kiss on your forehead making you smile and wave happily as he walked away. As soon as he disappeared up the stairs a few metres up, Niragi leant back so you couldn’t see him.

He felt tears building in his eyes, so he quickly wiped them away before you found him. He jumped as he saw you turn the corner, hiding the rose he held behind his back.

“Hey Niragi!” you exclaimed, having the same gorgeous smile that you always conveyed around him. Usually the small action would make him melt into the ground. But at that moment, he didn’t think anything you did could make him feel better.

“You okay?” you asked, leaning close to his face with your eyebrows raised. His heart beat picked up, noticing how your lips were only a few inches away from his. He turned his face to the side, hiding his blush. “Yeah, I’m just tired,” he lied through his teeth.

As he kept up his innocent façade, small droplets of blood slowly drizzled down his wrist from the tight fist enveloping the thorned rose. His confined anger flowed through the blood that spilled from the cuts in his palm, but he didn’t feel a pinch of pain through his tensed muscles.

Perhaps one day, the world would give him another chance to show his love for you.

***************

You woke with a start as someone busted through the door of the room, looking around in a panic at who would enter so suddenly. Your eyes widened as you caught sight of Niragi, stumbling into the room with his usual sniper rifle slung over his shoulder.

“Sorry love, did I wake you?”

You stayed silent, sitting up properly and watching his movements closely. You didn’t trust a single thing he did or said, so you still remained on high alert whenever he was in this room alone with you, despite the fact you had been sharing the room with him for three days.

“You getting hungry? I brought some food up last night for you while you were asleep,” he said, placing his rifle on a small table. You watched as it collided with the wooden surface, flinching at the loud noise.

You hadn’t been able to leave the room since your injury. You had been shot in the foot by an overly sensitive militant woman who you weren’t even sure was still alive after the beating Niragi gave her in front of you. His behaviour during that time alone was enough to you terrified, especially the fact that it is impossible to run from him now.

But the lack of movement on your foot has proven to help and you have noticed the bullet wound healing quite well. The ointment and bandages you apply regularly on it (no help from Niragi) has been working perfectly, and you were praying for the moment you could move your stuff back to your own room and escape Niragi’s unpredictable and psychotic behaviour around you.

As if he read your mind, Niragi spoke up. “How’s your foot? Is it getting better?”

The sweet tone in his voice was so contradictory to his intentions. You hated the fact that he thought you fell for his fake façade. To be honest, he probably knew you didn’t believe him, but continued with it to keep you on your toes.

You glared at him through the top of your eyelids, keeping your head low in suspicion. As Niragi sighed from your unresponsive behaviour, he strutted over towards the bed that you were laying on. You panicked and used your arms to push yourself away from him, being terrified of his presence alone. Spending only a few days with him was enough to make you realise how despicable of a human being he actually was.

“Shh, calm down. It’s just me,” he attempted to calm you.

You froze as he sat on the bed nearby your legs. A pained expression grew on your face as he slowly lifted your injured foot to place it gently on his lap, running his hand carefully over the bandage you had applied before going to sleep.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, glancing up at you. You shook your head no, watching as he smirked slightly and turned back to it.

“I’m going to have a look at it,” he demanded, beginning to unravel the bandage on your foot.

You remained still, watching as he was unusually careful. It made your adrenaline run rapid, not knowing when he was going to suddenly snap.

As he pulled the final layer off your foot, relief filled you when you saw that it was still fine. The injury had turned into a small hole in the top of your foot, no blood or redness in sight. Maybe perhaps you could walk again soon, and be able to replenish your visa that was due to end in a few days.

Unfortunately, Niragi wasn’t as happy about this knowledge, and he intended to do something about it.

“Hmm,” he hummed in thought, leaning over to the night stand and picking up a small unwashed needle that he had kept there. It was left there by Ann a few days ago, as she had to come to the room to stitch up a cut that Niragi had obtained during a game.

Your eyes widened at the sight of him holding the needle close to your bullet wound. “W-Wait, Niragi,” you stuttered, nervous about his intentions. “What are you doing?”

Niragi glanced up at you, a devilish smirk painted across his face. His expression made your stomach churn and you attempted to pull your leg from his grip. Your heart rate picked up and you began to panic when he refused to let go.

“Don’t worry, this won’t hurt much. Just... try not to scream.”

Just as you were about to protest, Niragi pinned your foot onto his lap and pushed the tip of the needle as hard as he could into your bullet wound, making you let out a silent scream and thrash in his hold.

You screamed and screamed and screamed, a horrific pain continuously shot through your foot to your leg. You swore at some point it felt like he was cutting your foot off.

“NIRAGI!” you wailed. “STOP! PLEASE!”

You begged and begged through your cries of pain. After what felt like a century, Niragi pulled the needle out of your foot slowly and placed his hand over the wound to attempt to stop the bleeding. You were now lying on your back, sobbing lightly into the sheets and given up.

You felt Niragi caress your face with the back on his hand lightly. “My little princess needs to stay here, where I can keep her safe. You can’t leave. There’s horrible monsters at The Beach and I would hate for you to fall prey to one of them.”

You felt like screaming at him. How could he be so blind, so ignorant. He was the monster, and he failed to realise it.

He placed your leg off his lap, making you let out a small cry. Niragi crawled further up the bed next to you and sat on the sheets. You were facing away from him, not even daring to turn to look at him. You could hear him unbuttoning his checkered shirt, seeing it fly over your frame and land on the floor. A shiver made its way up your spine as Niragi’s hot breath hit the nape of your neck and his warm limbs snaked around your torso. He placed his hands underneath your shirt and softly caressed the skin of your stomach whilst nipping at the skin on your neck.

“You’re so pretty. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you over these years.”

His words sounded so loving, so sweet. But your reaction was the opposite of what he wanted. A slow, sorrowful tear traveled down your face and you began shaking in his embrace in fear of having him so close. You wanted to close your eyes and wake up back home, back in your own bed with your family’s hushed conversations spread throughout the house. This wasn’t home, this was absolute hell.

“Why are you shaking? Are you cold?” your tormentor asked. He removed his hands from underneath your shirt and pulled on your shoulders to make you turn over to face him. You kept your eyes shut tight, refusing to submit to his demands.

He pulled you close once again and placed his hand on the back of your head to push your face into his bare chest. Niragi’s usual smell of blood and metal filled your nostrils, making you grimace against him.

You continued to shake, not being able to control your movements. Niragi sighed, tucking his chin on the top of your head and nuzzling into your hair, taking a breath of the all too familiar scent of the shampoo you’ve always used for your hair. How you managed to find the exact one in the Borderland was beyond his understanding.

The smell made him feel at home. The comfort he found in you was too strong for him to handle, making him become deranged at the thought of you being back in his arms. It scared him, how much he actually depended on you to keep him happy.

And while he continued to hold you close and smile happily at the feeling of your soft breath against his chest, he failed to notice the continuous flow of tears that cascaded down your face and the shaking of your hands that gripped the top of your own thighs violently, trying to realise the tension of the adrenaline in your veins.

************

You had had enough.

Niragi did nothing but put you through absolute torture and trauma no matter how much you attempted to reason with his psychotic self. Bruises littered your body from his usual violence, committing to the awful promise that he was going to make sure you couldn’t leave the room.

You were imprisoned. It felt as if you were trapped in a cage that had the easiest lock in the world to pick, only you didn’t have hands to unlock it.

So two days after the needle incident, you decided you were going to escape, even if it killed you.

You had to replenish your visa, considering it ended the next night. You feared that Niragi would just leave you to die, not caring about your visa, so you had to take it upon yourself.

You may have had an infected bullet wound and a nearly crushed spirit, but you weren’t going to let this be your end. You had to at least try.

*************

“Oi, I’m leaving now,”

You shifted your eyes from your hands resting in your lap to the tall, deranged man who stood at the door of your room. He had his usual black and white buttoned shirt on, charcoal hair tied up at the top to keep it out of his face and his relaxed hand tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans. You almost felt disappointed. How could such a handsome man be wasted by such a horrific mentality.

He carried his loaded sniper rifle in his arm, fiddling with the trigger as he awaited an answer from you.

You nodded your head and turned back to your hands, twiddling your thumbs nervously. You stayed frozen as you heard his footsteps make their way over to you.

Niragi lifted your chin with a harsh grip to your jaw and smashed his lips onto yours. You closed your eyes tightly in discomfort, feeling his desperate lips bite over yours hungrily. It made you feel sick to your stomach.

He pulled away, your lips connected by a string of saliva, making him chuckle. “I’ll be back kitten. Maybe I’ll bring you back a present,” he suggested, raising his eyebrows.

You nodded once again. You knew what he meant. Perhaps an amputated hand of one of your friends? Or the eye of a seeker/hunter to remind you of the “monsters” he’s hiding you from? At this point, you were desensitised to it.

The feeling on his lips on your head brought you from your thoughts. He softly stroked his hand through your hair, tucking slightly on the ends, making you wince.

“Stay here, and don’t answer the door if someone knocks.”

And with that, he left. You stayed completely still for a few minutes, waiting in case he decided to come back just to torment you further.

After you were sure he was completely gone, you shifted to the edge of the bed and swung your legs over the edge to stand up. You had practised walking around the room on your injured foot for the past few days when Niragi wasn’t there, so you had grown used to the random aches that shot up your leg from your bullet wound while walking.

You waddled to the door, slowly swinging it open and grabbing the small knife that sat on the table nearby. You had to have some kind of weapon in case something was to happen.

As you stepped outside, a few people were still making their way down the halls towards the lobby. You noticed a young man that you had somewhat befriended when you first arrived at The Beach named Tatta. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you, a smile growing on his face.

“Y/N! Where have you been?!” he exclaimed excitedly, running to you and throwing his arms around you in a playful embrace. You grimaced at his loud voice, being afraid of a certain someone potentially hearing him say your name.

“Hey Tatta,” you said back, giving him a right hug. You swore you felt like you could’ve cried in his arms from how deprived you were from normal human interaction without the fear of being assaulted.

“Are you coming to the games tonight?” he asked, pulling back from the hug and keeping a hand on your shoulder. You nodded. “Can I stick with you?” you asked with hope in your eyes. Tatta smiled and hit your arm lightly. “Of course! I’d feel better going with someone I knew.”

You agreed and began walking down the hall towards the lobby together in a comfortable. Tatta failed to notice you being more cautious, checking around corners before you turned and whipping your head around to glance behind you every now and then.

************

Just your luck, a ten of spades. You swore the world just wanted you dead. At that point, you had become used to the never-ending bullshit that was thrown your way.

You clawed your way to the table that held the card. Holding the single piece of cardboard between your fingers had never felt more satisfying. You slid down against the wall near the registration area, limbs shaking from the muscle strain you faced during the game. Tatta knelt in front of you, rubbing your knee in an attempt to comfort you, but nothing he could do would make you feel better.

Back at The Beach, you sat in the lobby on one of the leather couches, rubbing your foot to try and ease the aching pain coming from your wound. You had heard when you arrived back that the executives had called a meeting, so you weren’t too worried about running into Niragi.

You closed your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest, rolling your head back to rest against the couch. Moments like that were complete bliss. For a moment, you were able to forget your current situation.

A sudden hand on your shoulder ripped you from your meditation, and you turned your head to see none other than Kuina with a red face and heavily breathing from running. “Hey Y/N,” she started. You sat up and turned around fully to face you.

“The executives want you in the meeting. They heard you collected a high number card and they need you to deliver it.”

Your heart dropped at her words, realising what was coming for you. You had to walk into that meeting room, where Niragi stood. He was going to find out about your little adventure you had without him knowing. Adrenaline filled your senses from the thought of what he was going to do to you.

You slowly stood up, wiping your sweaty hands on your shorts and checking your card was still in the front pocket. You gulped heavily and nodded to Kuina. “Okay, I’ll head there now.”

Every step towards the meeting room was another towards hell. The more stairs you climbed, the more nausea filled your stomach, the more thoughts filled your head. You were seriously just considering throwing yourself off the roof of the hotel, as that seemed like a better option than facing Niragi.

You arrived in front of the double doors, freezing in your path. You don’t know how long you stood there, sighing shakily and attempting to crack your knuckles to relieve tension. But still, as you lifted your hand to push on the large wooden door, your arm shook like a leaf.

You trudged in, hearing the room fall silent at your entry. You refused to look up from the ground, keeping your widened eyes locked to the carpeted ground until you reached the end of the table.

“Ah, Y/N. Finally! Care to show your card?” you heard Hatter ask. You glanced up and caught sight of all the executives gathered around the table on chairs. One of which was of course Niragi.

You locked eyes with the psychotic man, and your stomach dropped when you saw the scowl on his face. He was staring directly into your soul, eyes hardened with anger and unforgiveness. If looks could kill, you would’ve been on the floor dead before you even made it to the table.

You focused on the task at hand and pulled the card from your pocket, placing the somewhat damaged ten of spades on the table. Hatter reached over and held it close to his face to examine it as everyone watched. Well, everyone except Niragi, who held his piercing gaze on you. You swore you could feel him burning holes through your skin.

“Hmm,” Hatter hummed in approval. “Thank you very much Y/N, that will be all,” he said, making a shooing movement towards you.

You nodded and thanked him before quickly walking out of the room. As soon as you stepped out, you broke into a sprint towards you and Niragi’s shared room.

You had to leave the room before the meeting finished. You feared the absolute worse.

When you arrived at the room, you ripped open the door and scrambled inside, groaning at the pain your foot was in. You didn’t have a choice, you had to hurry.

You made your way to the large closet, immediately reaching for the top shelf to pull down the miniature machine gun that Niragi stored up there as a spare. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to know about it, but you managed to spot him tucking it underneath the clothes at some point.

As you were shuffling around the cupboard trying to find some bullets desperately, annoyed and stressed sighs and gasps leaving your mouth, you froze when the sound of the door opening hit your ears. Immediately assuming the worst, you grabbed the door of the cupboard and closed yourself inside, attempting to enveloped yourself in the piles of clothes and resources.

The keyhole in the door of the cupboard allowed you to have a small space to look through. You closed one eye and glanced through the hole, spotting Niragi placing his sniper rifle on the bed and untying his hair, running his hands through it in stress.

You didn’t dare even breath, keeping all your limbs tucked close so you didn’t knock over anything. You were so afraid that Niragi would even hear the sound of your heart beating, as it was as loud as a drum in your own ears.

You grimaced as a sudden putrid smell filled your nose. The smell of fresh flesh that you were all too familiar with from living in the Borderland. You turned around in the cupboard and moved to the side so the light of the keyhole would at least somewhat illuminate the small space. The sight in front of you was enough to make you throw up.

There sat Tatta (or at least, Tatta’s remains), empty eyed and leaning against the back of the cupboard. Bullet holes littered his once kind face, probably counting eight at least. You covered your mouth in horror, letting out a loud cry at the sight, pushing your legs against the ground to scramble away from your dead friend.

Once again, just like the other day during the needle incident, you screamed and screamed and screamed. You fell backwards out of the closet, curling into a small ball and screeching into your palm in horror at the now clearer sight of your friend’s corpse.

Everything was crumbling around you. Your voice was being ripped to shreds at the back of your throat. Your mind was falling apart, not being able to handle the traumatising events that you’ve faced, breaking and tearing itself apart. Your body was broken. Bruises and scars scattered your frame like an artwork, each one holding a connected traumatic event.

Niragi sat on the bed, watching as you screamed on the ground over by the corner of the room, tears sliding down his tanned cheeks.

What had happened to you? Why did you change so much in these few years?

Niragi slowly stood and made his way over to your shaking frame, hooking his arms underneath your shoulders and knees to lift you bridle style. He smiled sadly down at your shivering frame, not being able to control your rapid movements.

“Aw baby, you’re a mess,” he cried, a sob escaping his mouth halfway through his sentence.

He brought you back over to the bed, crawling on his knees to the centre of the mattress and crossing his legs to lay you in his lap with your head tucked into the crook of his elbow.

He brushed your hair with his fingers, trying to ease your breathing as you kept your eyes tightly shut in fear. “I tried to warn you. Look what happened,” he chuckled through his tears, motioning his head over towards the cupboard. “Do you like your present? I saw you walking with him on your way back to the hotel and thought it would be perfect. Why don’t you like it?”

You opened your eyes and looked up at him with fear all written all over your face. You didn’t dare move from his embrace, being too afraid.

Niragi smiled as he caught sight of your glistening eyes, reaching a hand up and stroking his thumb along your cheek. “You’re so pretty,” he breathed out, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

You brought your shaking hands up and rubbed your face before finally speaking up. “I want to go home,” you desperately whispered, turning your head and pressing your face against Niragi’s clothed chest. He watched as you brought your hand up and gripped the material of his shirt in your fist tightly, conveying anger and stress through your grip.

“You are home kitten,” he states, rubbing his cheek against your head. “I’m your home. I always have been.”

He wasn’t lying to you, and that was the pill that was hard to swallow. Niragi had been your source of comfort for so long, and for once in your life, it felt foreign to lay in his arms and to look into his night eyes.

Oh how weird it felt to look at something that conveyed such sweetness, such delicacy and such empathy, only for it to be utterly ruined by its environment.

You’d like to think that it wasn’t either of your faults. But in the end, it doesn’t depend on the environment, it depends on how you react to it.

Neither of you were perfect, but you were both incredibly different. It never would’ve worked between the two of you, and being in the Borderland did nothing but strengthen that fact. In the end, your differences would either tear you apart from each other emotionally, or you would tear each other apart limb from limb.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! I’m back to finishing off the fanfic requests that have been sent to me because I finished all the prompt scenarios. I won’t be doing another part to this because I honestly struggled for so long trying to figure out a plot for this one 😭 But anyway thanks so much for your patience. I’ll be uploading these fanfics as quick as I can! ❤❤

Small addition to this fanfic talking about Niragi’s motives and intentions

#alice in borderland #alice in borderland imagines #alice in borderland imagine #alice in borderland one shots #alice in borderland scenarios #alice in borderland x reader #aib #aib imagines #aib imagine #aib one shots #aib scenarios #aib x reader #niragi #suguru niragi #niragi imagines #niragi imagine #niragi one shots #niragi scenarios #niragi x reader

841 notes · View notes

bokutoslittlebird · 3 years

Text

Mommy

Sub!Kuroo x Dom!fem!reader

Warnings: cumshots, boobjob, thighjob/thigh fucking, idk how jva works, creampie(s), mommy kink, dubcon/noncon (no previous communication implied), somnophilia, cunnilingus, dirty talk/praise, dash of nipple play, use of ‘baby boy’ and ‘good boy’ for Kuroo

Working for the Japanese Volleyball Association wasn’t all glory and glam, but it paid well. Each day was another day to sift through paperwork and prepare for the National Team lineup members, with the next Olympics only two years away. Some members, like Hinata and Kageyama had already been informed of their eligibility and were a definite member, though they didn’t know of that yet. There would be someone going around to overview the Division 1 Leagues to see who seemed to be in the best shape to perform, which is why Kuroo was currently still at his office. Paper after paper of different members his employees had gone through and chosen, he got exhausted after going through just a few. Looking over credentials, he knew a few would have to make it — like Ushijima, who has been on the team before, or Bokuto and Sakusa of the MSBY Black Jackal team, with their power and technique. All of the candidates were possible, making Kuroo’s job harder as he had to choose which ones to send to the higher-ups. He was the checkpoint; who would pass this roadblock and continue and who’s dreams would crumble before they even began?

An alarm going off told Kuroo it was time to go home. He had gotten halfway through the stack, but he needed his rest. Movements were sluggish, muscles aching and sore from sitting in one position for a good chunk of the day. Glancing at his phone, the time read 1:37, making him sigh as he realized you’d probably be asleep when he got home.

The train ride home is quiet, almost gloomy as the dark rolling clouds move by, muffling the light of the moon shining down. Walking the rest of the way home, Kuroo can feel the weight in his shoulders getting heavier. Footsteps aren’t as fast, his head is held down, movements are numb as he enters the house, as silent as everything else. A sigh breaks that silence, his theory of you being asleep confirmed.

Trudging up the stairs, he opens the door to see an expected sight — the covers bunches around your waist as you hug the pillow close to your face, legs spread out with one bent. The night air is warm, which explains the lack of pants; only items on you are some panties and a loose tank top, but the position you’re in with those seem to have given him some newly found energy. Carefully entering the room and taking off his suit, making sure to be as silent as possible, he looms over your sleeping form. A disgusting thought overcomes him, a deranged desire to indulge in your body before joining you in sleep.

He’s concerned of how upset you’ll be if you find out or wake up, but he’s needy and you’re all his, aren’t you? He should be able to indulge in your body when he wants to, even if you’re too out of it to know. Prying sheets off your body, the clouds allow moonlight to seep through the curtains and silver beams give light to the previously darkened room. Your eyes are firmly closed, lips slightly open as puffs of breath escape them, head turned to the side. Once the covers are off and discarded, he’s rolling you on your back to admire your features more closely. The loosened fabric of the shirt makes it easy to droop, his fingers pulling the neckline down and hooking them under your breasts.

The material brushed over your nipples, the buds hardening under the fabric and encouraging Kuroo’s tired mind to continue. Straddling you, he’s discarded all of his clothes as he situates his cock in between your boobs. Letting his spit drip onto the flesh, he massages them and gently thrusts his hips as he cock slides between the wetness of your boobs. A breathy moan escapes his lips as he feels the spit and your soft breasts against his aching cock, his desperation for release having his hips moving faster and faster. A stutter of his hips and then he pulls away, letting his cum spill all over your clothed pussy, some of it splattering against your thighs.

Seeing his seed coat your thighs, some slipping in between your legs as they abide the laws of gravity, it gives him even more energy to continue. Moving off of you completely, he’s picking up your legs and keeping your knees together, resting his head atop them as he looks down. More breathy moans escape his lips, watching his cock peek out from between your thighs and feeling his own cum lubricate the makeshift cocksleeve. It’s nice and warm, slick enough for his cock to slide easily between them and the meat of your thighs give him the soft feeling that he really craves — even if it’s not the same. His tip peeks out from your thighs, red and pulsing as he tries to hold back his moans to a sensible volume at 2 in the morning. A few more thrusts between your sticky thighs and he’s letting out a low groan, spilling his cum all over your shirt and a bit of your panties.

Panting heavily, he looks down at the mess he’s made of you. With your breasts still spilling out, white splatters of his cum against your skin and clothing, an overwhelming possessiveness latches onto him, making him desperate to claim you inside as he has on the outside. Hands move to pull your panties out of the way, his shaky and hesitant movements showing his eagerness and his morals, but his eagerness wins out in the end when he sees how your own slick clings to your panties, making invisible strands. Licking his lips, he moves down to lap at the wetness you created, the salty taste of his own mingling with yours. His eyes flicker between you and closing, wanting to make sure you stay awake and desperate to revel in the feeling of lapping at your folds. Lips secure around your clit, him sucking on the nerves as you moan, a dreamy sigh almost, making him freeze.

Pulling back, he sees how wet you are now, still oozing with slick coating your folds along with his own saliva. His eagerness has him pulling your panties to the side with a thumb and his other hand lining himself up with your entrance before he can think to stop. A moan comes from him, biting his lip to hold them back as he sinks into your cunt, walls fluttering around him from the ministrations he gave to your clit. Burying himself all the way in is a challenge, but once he succeeds, he’s leaning over your unconscious body to kiss slightly part lips, short moans from them. His thrusts are slow, easing open your walls and preventing you from waking up so quickly, but he finds his hands on either side of your head as he picks up his pace. The room is loud now, squelch noises from where he disappears into you and from your coated thighs sticking to his own hips, adding to the sound of his skin slapping against yours. He rolls his head back at one particular thrust, a mewl coming from you as your back arches, him chuckling as he licks at his lips, enjoying the feeling.

That feeling is short lived.

Looking back down to your sleeping face, he’s shocked to see your eyes wide open, tired. He immediately stops, panicking as to what you’ll say to him, heart pumping wildly. But you smile at him, pulling him down to your lips by his shoulders, letting your mouth let him know you’re not upset. Legs hook around his waist as you break from him, running your thumb over his bottom lip. “What’s got you so tense, baby?” When he doesn’t answer, or rather he doesn’t know how to properly answer, you frown at him. “Tell Mommy what’s wrong,”

“I- I wanted to relieve some stress, that’s- that’s all,” he gulps, seeing you look at him with that face. The face that doesn’t let him know what you’re thinking, the one that usually means a punishment is coming soon. “I’m sorry for being bad, I just—”

“Bad? Oh no, sweetie. You’re still my good boy, aren’t you? If you wanted a treat, all you had to do was ask, you know?” Your words ease his worry, sweetness dripping off of each syllable. He grins, moving to kiss you once more as he begins to thrust into you again, nothing holding him back. “That’s a good boy,” you mumble against his lips, trailing your lips down from his lips to his jawline, down his neck as he moans, letting you have full access to his skin. A moan comes from him, feeling your mouth suck on his flesh to create a red mark, marking him in a way he did to you. Wrapping your arms around his neck, he can feel his cum against his chest and abdomen, cold and sticky. Hips keep a steady rhythm, but they begin to lose said rhythm as he gets closer to his next release, puffs of air and soft moans escaping his lips as he feels his end come.

“Can I- Can I do it inside, pretty please?” He begs, moving his lips to yours as you nod, feeling his arms hold you down as he forces all of inside you, painting your gummy walls in a similar fashion to the rest of your body. He moans at the feeling, mouth hanging open as his cock throbs with sensitivity. You move up to kiss him, sucking on his tongue as he moans into your mouth, desperate for your touch.

He wants more.

His sensitive doesn’t hold him back, eager for more as he rubs his cock against your walls once more. “Baby boy, aren’t you tired? You finished inside,” you coo at him. He just looks down at you, eyes covered with lust as his mind is fuzzy in a haze.

“I wan’- I want more of you, Mommy. Please, I want you to fuck me, I want you to feel good, too, please,” he pleas, lips brushing over yours as he talks. You chuckle, flipping him over so he’s situated against the pillows.

“You should’ve asked for that in the first place, baby.” Taking off your tank top, you finally notice how hardened and sticky some of it is, an eyebrow raised but no questions his way. Pushing down on his chest, you smirk at him before rolling your hips, eliciting moan from him. “That was nice.. Can you give me another one?” You coo once more, moving your hips back and forth with his cock still inside of you. It’s enough to have his hands grasping at your hips tongue killing out as he lets moans freely pour from his lips, no matter the volume. “Someone’s sensitive, aren’t you sweet boy?”

He rapidly nods his head, biting on his lower lip as he moans again, feeling another orgasm coming as you keep rocking on his cock. Using one of your hands, you lean back to play with your clit, letting him have a full view of the show. You don’t speak, but Kuroo knows he isn’t supposed to look away, watching as your fingers rub and pinch at your clit, feeling the way your walls spasm around his cock that make him whine with need. Your other hand moves up to play with your nipples, teasing and rolling the hardened buds as you moan, eyes fluttering to meet his gaze as he drinks in every inch of your skin, every movement your hands make against your own sensitive areas. It isn’t until you’re mewling, using one hand to steady yourself while the other rubs at your clit does he break eye contact, rolling his eyes back as you cream on his cock, making him spill every last bit of his seed inside you.

When you both stop panting, getting your bearings, you rock your hips once more as he whines, tears in his eyes. “Oh, you thought we were done? Baby boy, I’m just getting started. This is your punishment,” you smile, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss to his lips. Even as your hips move, he doesn’t complain and he doesn’t voice his overstimulation, his nerves burning and begging to rest, he lets it happen. This is how it is for him.

In the office, he commands his employees and overlooks their work ethic, but he lets go of the dominating presence in the bedroom when he’s with you, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Author’s Note: sorry if the dom/sub dynamics didn’t come into play until close to the end and sorry for this being released so late

#haikyuu smut #Mr. Tetsurō #BB.Kinky #BB.Dark #BB.Requests #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader #tw.somnophilia #tw.noncon #tw.dubcon #tw.mommy kink #sub!kuroo #dom!reader #cw.boobjob #cw.thighjob #haikyuu x reader smut

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disney-android-foundation · 3 years

Note

Hey if you’re still taking requests/asks…(and I think u might like this one ;) ) Can I get a Yandere Alemeda Slim???? Robot AU and regular please.

;)

Normal

- There are two possible ways you could’ve met Slim, him up front or him as Yancy O’Del.

- Meeting Slim up front would be rare considering that he only ever comes out at night without his disguise, he can only go out in the day time with his disguise. So you’d have to be the owner of some land and Bulls to even have a chance of encountering the real Slim. Now normally he doesn’t take anything but the cattle, so you’d have to be pretty darn special in order for him to take you.

- When he does take you, he keeps you in a makeshift cell. It would most likely be a ransom kinda holding where he requests money from your family or maybe the town you sold to. Since you’re already there, he talks to you, just basic things, nothing that seems obsessive. As time goes on, maybe a week (he works quick), the questions he asks and topics he brings up kinda sound like he’s planning something more than just a ransom. He starts sitting closer to your cell now, obviously believing that you can’t do anything. Now he even lets you out of the cell from time to time, but you have to be by his side at all times.

- When asking why he’s suddenly wanting to get close to you now, he puts an arm around your waist and pulls you close, he confesses his feelings for you and how you’re the only person to ever make him feel this way. Even though he poured his heart out to you, you refused him, saying you can’t be with a criminal. Slim is just, stunned. How could you possibly refuse him?! You two have spent so much time together (You’ve known them for a week Slim calm down-) how could you not like him?…… Well the thing is, he’s not taking no for an answer. You’re gonna be with him no matter what, if he has to break a few bones, so be it.

- If you met him as Yancy O’Del, perhaps you’re an innocent shop keeper for a general goods store. You’ve had a regular customer come in to buy either mustache oil, hair gel, beef jerky, whiskey, or rope. He was always kind and gentleman like to you when making his purchases, always making conversation with you. It becomes clear that he buys from you constantly just so talk to you, so you inform him that he doesn’t have to buy anything just to talk to you, you have no clue how happy that made ‘Yancy’.

- You two started talking outside of your work schedule, and then you started to date 2 months later. At this point you still have no idea that it’s Alameda Slim under the glasses and coat (bith is you dumb??? JK), but ‘Yancy’ believes it’s time you knew. So he brings you to a secluded location away from society, to you it’s a possible marriage proposal, to Slim it’s something else. Once he mustered up his courage, he went behind a rock, he was there for awhile before emerging as not Yancy O’Del, but as Alameda Slim.

- You were absolutely shattered by the news, how dare he lie to you for so long?! He was shattered as you were, you really can’t like him for being a wanted criminal, after all you two have been through? Of course, he makes it seem like he’s letting you go as long as you don’t go spewing off the town like tweety bird about how famous land owner Yancy O’Del is actually the notorious Alameda Slim. You agree, not actually knowing what Slim was planning.

- In the dead of night, you were woken up by the smell of smoke. The inhalation of smoke caused you to start choking on it. You run out of your now on fire house, wondering if maybe you’d have left a candle burning, your thoughts are quickly interrupted by the sudden hog tie you have been put in. Through your daze of confusion, you see familiar gloved hands forcefully shove a drenched rag on your nose and mouth, conciseness slowly fading. The last thing you hear is, “You don’t get to decide that this relationship is over. That’s up to me, and I sure as hell don’t plan on letting you go.”

Android

- Slim was bought to help you on your chicken farm. Yeah it seems silly having such a big man help handle such small birds, but he hasn’t complained much.

- You’ve had a Mcleach droid before Slim. He mostly kept predators away from the coops. Plus it was mentioned in reviews that Mcleach’s and Slim’s are best friends so it would be great for the two to have each other while you were busy elsewhere. So you can imagine how shocking it was to arrive home to see Slim nearly beating the life out of Mcleach.

- You had to pull Slim off of him, asking what the hell was going on. Slim didn’t answer you, just stared at you weirdly before picking up some notebook and calmly walking out of the house. You couldn’t be bothered to follow him, you had to get Mcleach to a repair shop immediately.

- Upon arrival, bystanders and the repair team were just staring in awe. “Wha, What happened to your Mcleach?!” “My Slim droid went berserk on him! Aren’t they supposed to be friends?” “Well yeah usually, let’s work out his voice box first so that we can get the full story.” They fix his voice box and the whole story spills out.

- On the second day of Slims arrival, Mcleach noticed that Slim would stare at you for a long time without your knowing. Way longer than what should be necessary. Mcleach asked him why he kept staring at you, but was only given a “mind your damn business” they weren’t exactly friends at this time so it was understandable that Slim would want to keep to himself rather than just spill everything there is to know about him. So weeks go by and he still catches Slim staring at you, now he’s been writing in a journal. Mcleach would try to peek at what’s inside, but Slim seemed very protective of it so it was hard to even glance at it without Slim noticing. So he waited until the day Slim finally let his guard down enough to where he would leave the journal behind or just plain forget about it. You had left to go to the market and Slim heard some of the roosters fighting so he had to go sort that out, leaving the journal defenseless on the table. Mcleach had to be fast, so he quickly but quietly darted for the table. He didn’t even care to start from the beginning, he just opened a random page and started reading. The entries were all about you. Everything you have done while Slim has lived here, everything you like and love, every shower, everything you’ve eaten, what time you usually go to bed at, how you look when you slept. There were some entries on Mcleach, mostly on how he’s nothing but an obstacle and must be dealt with as soon as possible. Mcleach was so caught up in the reading, he didn’t even notice the cowboy, right behind him. That’s when the fight started.

- Everyone in the repair shop was horrified by Mcleach’s story, an employee immediately called a task force to retrieve the Slim droid immediately. They had you stay in the repair shop until they gave the ok.

- The task force definitely saw the damage that Slim made in the house but couldn’t find him there. So they had to start checking the surrounding area.

- You requested to go home after 3 hours of searching, saying that your chickens need to be cared for. The task force was reluctant but agreed so long as an 2 officers were at home with you.

- Even with the officers, you were on edge and jumpy about every little thing that went bump. The officers tried their best to calm you down, but how can you be calm knowing a deranged robot that you thought you could trust could be stalking you at this very moment?

- Despite the worry, you still needed to go to bed. One officer stayed in the house while the other would guard the outside. Not matter how strong Slim may be, he isn’t resistant to bullets.

- You woke up early in the morning like usual, you had to feed the chickens or else they’ll wake up the neighbors. You put on a bathrobe and work boots, strange, shouldn’t at least one of the officers be heard?

- You open you door, only to be met with an all familiar cowboy. You tried to scream, but your mouth was quickly gagged. “I don’t need you makin so much noise, not when I’m tryna bring you home!” Bring you home?! What was he talking about?!

- Slim bound your hands and feet together and slung you over his shoulder. He started to walk out with you, that when you saw the mess that he made, the officers weren’t moving, they didn’t even look like they were breathing. You quietly started to cry as Slim made his way into the woods, where he promises your new home will be better than your old one.

#disney villains #disney #android #android au #alameda slim #yandere Alameda Slim #yandere Alameda Slim x (y/n)#alameda slim x (y/n)#(y/n)

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bellakitse · 3 years

Text

The 'B' Word

Carlos and TK run into Carlos’ three sisters on the street and decide to have dinner with them. Over the course of the meal, their friends with benefits relationship changes.

Written for @911lonestarweek - Day 1: Romance/“You are the only one for me.”/Fluff

Carlos holds the door for TK to walk through, trying to keep his grin at bay in the face of TK’s epic pout. He’d suggested a night of putt-putt, thinking it would be a friendly and easygoing activity they could enjoy as they try to put more emphasis on the friends part of their unconventional relationship. It was supposed to be a casual night out. However, Carlos didn’t anticipate that TK would be horrible at the game or be such a lovable sore loser.

“You cheated,” TK accuses him, the scowl on his handsome face cuter than it has any right to be. Carlos swallows back a sigh at the thought. It’s moments like this that show him how truly head over heels he is for the man before him.

He pushes that thought down too.

TK has made it more than clear he’s not ready for more than what they are right now – friends who enjoy each other’s company in and out of the bedroom.

He tells himself how he always does when these thoughts start to creep in that it’s enough for now. He gets to spend time with TK; he gets to touch him, hear the soft sounds he makes when they’re together, he gets his smiles.

So what if they don’t have a label?

Having some parts of TK Strand, Carlos has quickly learned, is infinitely better than not having him at all.

“At putt-putt?” he questions with an amused grin pushing away his less than pleasant thoughts. “You think I cheated at putt-putt?”

“Yes,” TK shoots back, his expression set in a childish frown, causing Carlos’ grin to grow.

“How exactly?” he questions, outright smirking when TK stalls, his pout growing as he can’t come up with anything.

“You distracted me with your you-ness,” TK finally answers, waving a hand in his direction as if it explains everything.

Carlos feels his face go warm, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling incredibly smug too. He reaches out, slipping a finger through one of the loops of TK’s jeans, pleased when TK comes into his space easily, his arms going around Carlos’ neck as he holds him close.

“That’s an interesting way to say you think I’m hot, sweetheart,” he murmurs teasingly as he presses his nose against TK’s temple.

“You already know I think that,” TK scoffs at him, turning his head to kiss the corner of his mouth, his tongue peeking out in a tiny teasing lick. “Don’t pretend now.”

Carlos lets out a steadying breath as his body instantly reacts to TK’s goading. “I still like to hear it,” he answers with a playful pout of his own, happy when it makes TK chuckle.

TK brings his hands down, cupping Carlos’ face between them, using the leverage to close the tiny height difference between them as he brushes his lips against his. “Needy,” he whispers, the word spoken against Carlos’ mouth causing him to let out a moan, proving TK’s point.

“Let’s go back to my place,” he whispers back, his hands giving TK’s hips a suggestive squeeze.

TK laughs softly as he shakes his head. “You promised me dinner.”

“I’ll make us something when we get there,” he promises now, groaning when TK shakes his head again.

“You and I both know – if we get behind closed doors, we’re not eating anything but each other, Reyes,” TK tells him, smirking shamelessly when he gasps at his words. “I want real food first.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, willing down the blush on his face and the arousal coursing through him at the mental image TK’s words have provoked.

TK goes to take a step away from him, ready to start walking on their quest to find some food, but Carlos holds on to him, grinning back at him when it makes TK raise a brow in question. He doesn’t answer with words; instead, he cups TK’s face like he’d done to him, swallowing the small gasp he lets out with his lips.

He kisses TK thoroughly, taking his time as he feels TK’s body go lax against his, kissing him back lazily, pressing his tongue against the back of Carlos’ teeth in a way that makes his toes curl from the butterflies he feels in his stomach.

Carlos could get lost in the act of kissing TK Strand and often does, like now, which is probably why he doesn’t realize people have walked up to them until there is a loud and obvious clearing of someone’s throat startling the two of them.

“What – “ TK starts to say, sounding dazed, and Carlos would take a moment to be proud of that if it wasn’t for the horror he’s experiencing in the face of his three older sisters standing before them, grinning like deranged clowns.

“Well, well, well,” Lola starts, like the rabble-rouser she is, her grin looking painful from how big it is. “Look who we have here being all indecent in public? Isn’t there laws against practically having sex in public spaces, Officer Reyes?”

“Would he have to arrest himself?” Valentina asks ironically – the oldest but by no means the most mature – piling on with a smirk of her own.

Sofía, the second oldest and usually the quietest, smiles softly at him, almost sympathetic if it wasn’t for the laughing glint in her eyes. “How much do you wish the ground would swallow you up right now, manito?”

“Very much so,” he grits out with a tight smile as their enjoyment of the situation grows. He feels TK’s body shift next to him a second before his hand touches Carlos’, linking their pinkies together. He turns his head, surprised at the gesture, and finds TK looking a little lost but supportive of him. It loosens something in his stomach, and as TK gives him a half-smile, Carlos is helpless but to return it. “TK, these are my sisters, Valentina, Sofía, and Lola,” he says, pointing at each of them in turn, getting a wave back from all three. “Girls, this is TK,” he continues, not adding anything else though he can see the curiosity in his sisters’ eyes. “Anyway, we were going to go grab a bite to eat, so – “

“What a coincidence, so are we!” Lola exclaims happily, her brown eyes twinkling, and Carlos shakes his head, already seeing where she’s going with this.

“We should all get a bite together,” Valetina continues, and Carlos has to stifle the groan that is dying to come out at the tag-teaming happening before him.

“We barely get to see you, hermanito,” Sofía adds on with a sad face that fools no one.

“We saw each other two weeks ago at Mami’s for Sunday lunch,” he points out, rolling his eyes when the three of them shrug their shoulders in unison.

“Way too long, bro,” Lola answers, getting a nod from their other two sisters. “And we’re obviously not sharing enough if none of us knew you have a boyfri – “

“Okay!” Carlos interrupts before she can finish the dreaded ‘B’ word. The last thing he needs is his meddling sisters spooking TK with that title. He looks at him with an apologetic look on his face, hoping he understands. “Do you mind if they join us?”

TK looks at him for a moment and then at his sisters, a sly grin making its way onto his face that fills Carlos with dread. “That depends,” he starts, raising an eyebrow at the girls. “How many ‘baby Carlos’ stories can I get out of this meal?”

Carlos lets out that groan he’s been holding back as his older sisters all smile at TK like he’s a new shiny toy.

Being the boldest one of his sisters, Lola steps towards TK, slipping her arm through his. “All the stories you want, my dude. Let’s start with the one where Carlos would play Selena’s ‘bidi bidi bom bom’ on repeat and do her spins in the living room until one time he almost threw up on the carpet from twirling so much,” she recounts, throwing a grin at him over her shoulder as she and TK start walking ahead.

Carlos closes his eyes for a moment, opening them again when he hears snickering at his side. He glares at Valentina and Sofía and their matching grins.

“We better catch up to them before she tells him that you can’t get through a single Disney or Pixar movie without crying like a baby, and that’s why you don’t watch them in the theater anymore,” Valentina warns him, laughing at him when his eyes widen.

He doesn’t move for a moment, letting them pass before him. TK throws a look back at him, half-worried but also gleeful as Lola says God only knows what in his ear, and Carlos can’t help the mixture of apprehension and tentative joy he feels at his worlds colliding.

“Keep up, manito, before we steal your boy away,” Lola shouts out, already crossing the street with TK still wrapped around her arm.

“Shit,” Carlos swears low before rushing to catch up.

֎֎֎

They end up at some hipster tapas restaurant. It’s not his usual style, but his sisters and TK seem to like it as they all pick from the multiple small plates at their large table. The girls each have a wine glass in their hands and blessedly don’t blink an eye when TK says he doesn’t drink and orders an ice tea.

He sits next to TK, with his sisters on the other side of the table, watching the two of them like they’re putting on a show for their enjoyment. He glares at them, hoping they’ll cut it out, but they seem to just find his scowls enjoyable – ignoring him in favor of focusing on TK.

“So TK, how did you and our little brother meet?” Valentina asks, starting off the inquisition.

TK pauses mid-reach for the papas bravas at her question before grabbing the dish and scooping some onto his plate for him, giving him a smile when he says thank you. “Um, we met on a call,” he starts to say, taking the plate of garlic shrimp he offers him in return. “I’m a firefighter; we were answering a call to a car accident, and Carlos was the leading officer on the scene.”

“Ohh, a firefighter, nice,” Lola says, throwing him a teasing look. Carlos is grateful for it as it makes TK laugh, and he misses the pointed look his other sisters give him at the way he and TK interact so easily.

He knows they are dying to ask.

“How did you snag such a hottie, Carlitos?” Lola continues, turning her teasing towards him.

Carlos rolls his eyes; used to his sister’s good-natured ribbing, he opens his mouth to mess with her, only for TK to let out a snort.

“Well, first, look at him,” TK answers for him, turning to look at him with a teasing but soft look of his own, a sweet smile playing on his lips. “He’s gorgeous.”

Carlos feels his heart jump at the easy way TK compliments him, not shy in the least as it makes his sisters share another round of looks that this time TK catches.

“It seems to be a family trait. You’re all very beautiful,” he says to them with a charming smile that has Carlos groaning and laughing at once as it totally works on all three of them.

“Don’t butter them up,” he complains as he sees the twinkle in all their eyes. “They’re already insufferable all on their own. If you hype them up, they’ll just be impossible.”

“It’s not hype if it’s true,” Sofía says with a flick of her curly hair, getting a nod from Valentina and Lola.

“That’s right, wey,” Valentina continues, grinning at the face he makes at them. “Listen to your boyfriend; we’re beautiful.”

Carlos freezes at the word boyfriend, but TK just laughs with the girls, moving the conversation along as he asks more about Carlos’ childhood. He leans in, listening intently as the girls share embarrassing but honestly sweet stories about him. Each looking at him with the great love he knows they feel for him.

TK hangs on to every word, smiling softly over at him every few minutes as he files away information – like his love for anything custard and his intense fear of cicadas.

“One time when I was 15, this kid in the neighborhood was picking on me,” Valentina tells the story, sharing smiles with Lola and Sofía as they start to chuckle, remembering the moment.

“We were all playing outside, and he came over and started making fun of my glasses or clothes. I don’t even remember, but I was on the verge of tears when Carlos, who had been playing with his action figures on the porch, comes running and kicks him as hard as he can on the shins, surprising the kid. He tripped, and Carlos jumped on him, hitting him with his tiny fists, screaming at him not to be mean to his sister,” Valentina pauses, looking over at him fondly. “I’m eight years older than Carlos, he was only seven at the time, but he was still protecting me.”

“Awww,” TK gushes, looking over at him with a tender glint in his pretty green eyes. “That’s so sweet and so in character.”

Carlos feels himself blush at the focus of everyone around the table, fidgeting as they all grin at him. “I protect the people I care about,” he grumbles, embarrassed.

“I know,” TK answers softly, reaching out to take his hand. “Trust me, I know.”

Carlos stares at TK feeling a shift in the air, his silly heart giving a flip as hope starts to sneak its way inside it.

“What else?” TK questions, turning back towards his sisters but not letting go of his hand.

The girls share another look between them, and Carlos can only guess what they’re thinking before they jump into more stories.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of laughter and childhood anecdotes, and before Carlos knows it, they’re settling up the bill and walking out of the restaurant. They linger outside for a moment before, one by one, the girls hug TK first, telling him he needs to come to the next Reyes’ lunch and that their mother is going to fall in love with him. TK smiles through it, not making any promises other than checking his schedule with him. He forks over his phone easily when Lola asks to add him to WhatsApp with the promise of baby pictures of him, and Carlos just knows she’ll add TK to a group chat before the end of the night.

They turn to hug him, tight and warm as always, each whispering in his ear how much they like TK and how happy they are that he’s found someone who makes him smile the way he’s smiling. He hugs them back, all the while looking at TK over their shoulders, wondering what’s just happened in the course of the night.

He hails them a cab and reminds them to text him when they each get back to their homes, getting fond rolls of their eyes as they promise before getting into the cab, leaving him and TK alone with this sudden shift in their relationship.

Neither says anything for a moment, each knowing one of them needs to start.

“So,” he begins, biting the bullet. “I guess we should talk about tonight because I don’t know if you realize this, but my sisters just left with the impression we’re in a serious relationship, and that means I will have at least a dozen texts by morning from my mother.”

“Sure,” TK says, nodding quickly, nervous energy pouring out of him. “But first –“

TK takes a step into his space, and then another until his chest is pressed against his, and Carlos instinctively puts his hands on TK’s slim waist seconds before TK covers his mouth with his, in a hungry, almost desperate kiss. Carlos matches his energy, pouring all the love and longing coursing through him, claiming TK’s mouth the same way TK has claimed his heart.

He holds him so close he’s sure TK can feel the way his heart is pounding against his own.

“TK – “ he gasps out, his skin tingling at every point of contact. “What – “

“I’m crazy about you,” TK blurts out, stepping out of his hold to pace. “I didn’t plan it. I didn’t see it coming. You were just supposed to be this cool guy I had good chemistry and good sex with, someone I would be friends with and share a bed with on occasion. This was supposed to be simple. But every day, I fall for you a little bit more and more with your kindness, your patience, the way you make me laugh and smile even when I don’t want to.”

He runs a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up, looking adorable even as his eyes have gone wild. “You weren’t the plan. You came into my life when I was at my worst, and for some reason, you still wanted to be around me, offering me the best of you, and I have been trying to ignore it because I thought it was too soon after my break-up or because deep down, I think you deserve better than me.”

“There is no one better than you,” he interrupts, needing TK to understand that once and for all. “You’re not perfect, TK, I know that,” he says, holding up a hand when TK goes to argue. “But there is no one better – you are the only one for me.”

TK lets out a gasp at his words, finally not moving about, coming to a stop, and Carlos takes the chance to touch him again, bringing him in closer as he cups his face, tilting it up to him.

“Your sisters looked at me tonight as someone worthy of you,” he whispers, his eyes going glassy. “I so want to be that. I want to be worthy of your love.”

Carlos smiles, feeling everything inside him melt for the man in his arms. “Oh, baby,” he whispers softly, leaning in to kiss his forehead, his eyelids, cheeks, and the tip of his nose before he brushes his lips against TK’s. He pulls him into a hug when he feels him tremble. “Don’t you get it? You already are.”

“Carlos – “ TK gasps something like a sob into his neck.

He pulls him back, making sure he’s looking at him before he finally says the words he’s been holding in for so long. “I’m in love with you, TK.”

TK lets out a wet laugh, nodding rapidly as he grasps his shoulders. “I’m in love with you too,” he answers, smiling brightly, matching Carlos’ own smile.

The kiss they share is salty from their mixed tears but perfect.

Breaking the kiss, they press their foreheads together, basking in the moment and the change in their relationship. Carlos doesn’t think he’s ever been happier, but after a moment, he finds himself letting out a groan as a realization creeps in.

“What is it?” TK questions him curiously.

“I just realized that if my sisters learn we weren’t official before we ran into them and that dinner with them helped in any way – I’m never going to hear the end of their mocking,” he answers, blinking in surprise when TK lets out a chuckle that quickly turns into a deep belly laugh. It only grows as Carlos pouts at him in return.

“Not even five minutes of being boyfriends, and you’re laughing at my pain,” he says, trying to keep from smiling but being unable to do so at the use of the ‘B’ word and the way TK lights up at it. “You’re lucky I love you.”

TK sobers at his words, the laughter dying out but the loving smile staying in place. “I am so lucky,” he says softly, taking his hand.

Carlos intertwines their fingers, bringing their hand up to his lips, laying a kiss over TK’s knuckles. “I’m lucky too.”

#911 lone star #tarlos #911 lone star fic #tarlos fic #lonestarweekend #lsweekend2021 #tk x carlos #my writing

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