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schrodingers-romy · 7 months

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My Angel of the Sea [Tomioka Giyuu x Reader]

Pairing: Tomioka Giyuu x AFAB!reader

Summary: After a mysterious ocean creature helps save you, you have the chance to save him in return. And then, after you get closer, you get the chance to 'help' him in another way...

Warnings: Near-drowning, and a few mentions of anxiety resulting from this. Non-explicit mention of injuries. Reader has AFAB anatomy referred to with fem terms, but no other gendered terms are used. Graphic smut (MDNI). Biting. PIV sex. Heat/rut sex. Oviposition (whatever the egg thing is idk). Breeding. Weird sea creature anatomy. Very sweet for what was supposed to just be smut.

Word Count: ~8,700

Notes: First post of my little event, Strange Lovers. Also serves as a submission for @monster-october-kny-2023! This ended up being way longer than I thought lol. Also editing your own smut is very embarrassing. Mdni banner template courtesy of @cafekistune

[Ao3 Link]

The impact with the surface of the freezing ocean shocked the breath out of your lungs, and you began to sink.

It hurt. The boat was tall, the deck elevated off of the water quite a distance. It had taken a monumental gust of wind to tip it and you enough to where you went flying. From that height, hitting the water felt like getting thrown down onto concrete. It was a wonder you were still conscious.

After impact, you sank like a stone. Through all the pain, breathlessness, and shock, you only had one clear thought: ‘why me?’

There wasn’t supposed to be a storm today; you were nearly to the shore of your home, barely a half hour’s ride away in fair weather. The storm was supposed to pass by after you were already curled up in your little seaside shack with a book. But as always, mother nature was vindictive in her unpredictability. It seemed strange to name a force so powerful and uncaring mother.

She certainly wasn’t being motherly towards you now.

The freezing ocean was less a mother’s embrace and more like that of death. Scarcely had you thrashed your way to the surface for a breath before a white-crested wave forced you back under. The sheer force of it disoriented you, making you spin around in a panic for the direction of air.

Your lungs burned as you kicked yourself upwards again. This time, an even bigger wave shoved you back down, before you could even finish gasping for air. Saltwater flooded your mouth and lungs instead of oxygen, and you started to drown.

It was so much more painful than you would have thought. Your lungs were silently screaming for air, but opening your mouth just brought in more water. Your limbs, aching also from strain, didn’t have the oxygen needed to push your body to safety.

Your vision began to spot black, and the pain began to give way to the numbness of unconsciousness.

Before you were completely gone, your brain fired its synapses a final time to grace you with the hallucination of an angel.

He had an unnaturally pale face, with eyes as placid and blue as the sea on calm days. His long black hair formed a spiky halo around his face, accented with the fluttery bluish fins he had in place of ears. One of his webbed hands seemed to reach towards you.

This water angel was the last image you saw before your mind slipped into darkness.

You awoke spluttering, coughing what felt like the entirety of the ocean out of your sore lungs.

You were dazed, but surprisingly…alive, for someone who was nearly drowned in her last memories.

You looked around frantically. You were beached like a whale on the sand. A familiar sand…

Whipping your head around (which wasn’t the best idea judging by how a thunderous headache made itself known as soon as you moved your head), you saw you were home. You had washed up on the beach right in front of your home.

But how? You had been sure your life was slipping away…and you were quite a way from this shore when the storm threw you overboard. There was no way the sea had just washed you here with the tides…right?

But you had no other rational explanation to why you were here, alive, if a little battered and sore. It was simply a miracle.

But in the back of your mind, your hallucination of the water angel lingered.

He never left your mind.

Even though you knew he was just a figment of your oxygen starved brain, you found yourself thinking of him constantly during the next few days. Small scraps of paper filled with scratchy, unfinished sketches floated around your home. Each one had him on it; some were attempts at a full figure, but others were just a singular feature. None of them were right. Your hand wielding a pencil was insufficient to render the creature you saw so clearly in your mind’s eye.

Other affects of your near-death experience also lingered.

You hadn’t been back down to the beach since you had washed up there. Once you awoke, you stumbled your way up to your little cabin without looking back to the sea once. You had spent the next few days resolutely holed up in your home, nursing your injured body and mind. The cold shakes and soreness took warm liquids and time to cure, but they did improve. Your mind was another story.

You just couldn’t bring yourself to even look at the ocean then. You knew, logically, that it was a force of nature with no feelings or intentions, but you couldn’t help but feel betrayed. You loved the sea, choosing a remote place just a short walk to the water because you wished to walk the beach every morning just to watch it. You wanted to be able to look out your window and see it. You wanted to be alone, isolated, with it as your only companion. But this companion, this friend your imagination made of the water, didn’t exist. It cared not for you, it had no feelings to return. Still, it was a bitter blow to learn the thing you cared for so much could have so easily been your end.

But you knew you had to overcome this.

Maybe, you thought, if you just went down to the beach again…even if you had to make yourself go. Seeing it again would remind you of your love for it, and perhaps also erase thought of the water angel from your mind.

You took advantage of this temporary burst of courage. Slipping your shoes and a sweater on, you stomped out your way out the door and onto the path to the shore.

You couldn’t yet raise your gaze, keeping it trained on the path you stiffly walked down. You could hear the gentle lapping of the waves; the sea was once more calmed, the beast inside temporarily sated after the last big storm.

Once you could see nothing but sand surrounding your shoes, you stopped. With a deep breath in, you looked up.

It…was just as you remembered. Smooth, gradient blue marred only by a few patches of white foam on the crests of gentle waves. It was…beautiful, and you felt calm once more. This wasn’t the harsh sea of your nightmare, but the same sea you had seen every day for forever now. This was normal. You were fine.

Everything was normal, except for the thing on the rock.

It had taken you a second to notice it; the rock in question was close to the shore, but a bit to the left of your vision. You waded out sometimes and sat on it, when the tide was low and the ocean quiet. It made you feel like you were sitting atop the water.

You weren’t on the rock now, yet it was still occupied. At first you thought it was a normal man, but then…you froze.

It was him.

Your water angel, that is. Clear and shining in the light of day.

Seeing him again, you realized what he was. Not an angel, not really, but some sort of sea creature. Half of his body was passable human, but at his waist skin faded into dark blue iridescent scales, covering a fish-like tail. Patches of scales decorated his upper body also, and the webs between his fingers were obvious, as were the gill-slits on his neck.

He was acreature of myth, never something you thought was real…but there he was. Looking right at you.

Your eyes were locked with his. His looked even more vivid above the surface, pupils slitted from the bright sun. They seemed to bore into you.

Unconsciously, you took a step towards him. This seemed to break whatever sort of spell was created when your gazes met, because he flinched back slightly, and slipped back into the water.

You ran over to the rock, uncaring of the seawater soaking your shoes. But he was gone in a flicker of blue.

Your water angel wasn’t something made up by your dying mind. He was real, and you knew it now.

In direct contrast to how you spent the last few days, the next week of your life was spent almost entirely by the water’s side.

Now that you knew your water angel was real, you were desperate to see him again. You had to know about him; what he was, exactly, and why in the world would he bother to save you.

You knew it was him who saved you, not a miracle of the tide. But you just didn’t know why.

So, you spent almost all your time sitting on the beach, watching the water. The only times you went back to your house were to prepare food or sleep; even then, you sometimes fell asleep on the sand instead of your own bed. Every time you closed your eyes, you could see him plastered on your eyelids, a ghostly figure printed on the blackness.

On the eve of the seventh day, you had to return to your cabin more than previous days. It wasn’t particularly cold out, but the wind was chilly and harsh, so you had to return for a blanket and to refill your thermos with warm drinks. The sky turned steely gray, and the sea mirrored it in color. Eventually, your anxiety at seeing the increasingly large waves won out against your dedication to seeing the water angel again. It was going to storm soon, and nothing was going to keep you out in it. Not again. You couldn’t risk it again, especially since it appeared your water angel wouldn’t be here to save you this time.

So, reluctantly, you bundled yourself up in your blanket, grabbed the basket filled with your things, and trudged back up away from the churning dark water and towards your house.

The storm rolled in quickly after that, and you were grateful you decided to move when you did. The sky was completely black outside; you couldn’t see the water at all. You couldn’t see anything. The only information you had about the outside storm was from sound; the howling of the wind, the vicious sound of rain lashing against your windows, and the faint crashing of the sea in the distance.

Your sleep was fitful that night. You would like to blame it on the noise of the storm, but that wouldn’t be entirely true. Because when you finally were able to fall asleep, all you could see were the deep eyes of your water angel, widened in something that looked like…fear.

The sun was scarcely revealed by the clearing thunderclouds before you were up and running down to the beach.

The light glittered on the ocean, highlighting its calm cerulean surface. As if that same ocean wasn’t tearing at the shore mere hours ago in the middle of the storm.

The beach was covered in driftwood and drying seaweed, remnants of what the turbulent waves cast up the night before. You picked your way across the debris, making your way closer to the water’s edge. It was a bit of a futile task; you hadn’t seen your water angel when you scanned the ocean earlier, and it wasn’t as if getting a few feet closer to the water was going to make any difference. Yet you still kept walking towards the ocean.

It was only when you were nearly stepping into the sea that you saw it. A flicker of blue in amongst the piles of wood.

Could it be?...

It was likely it was just a rock or a piece of sea glass, but you had to check. So, you went to take a closer look.

Up close, it was clear that what you saw was a patch of blue scales, buried under a pile of wood and matted seaweed. Your heart was beating a staccato rhythm in your chest. It could be just a fish, you told yourself. It might not be him.

But you worked quickly in removing the debris all the same. The seaweed was slimy and unpleasant feeling against your hands, but any thoughts of disgust flew out of your head when you saw what you had uncovered.

It was him. Your water angel.

Spread out on the damp sand, he looked considerably less ethereal than the night you met. He was rag-dolled across the ground in what looked to be an uncomfortable position. His eyes were closed, as if he was simply sleeping; but the dried blood painting half of his face told a different story.

You kneeled next to him, uncaring of the sand on your clothes. Up close, it was clear he was still alive; his chest rose and fell, if shallowly. Hesitantly, you reached out to touch his head. His hair was soft, even when dry and tangled, but you were much more concerned with looking for the source of the blood.

It appeared to be coming from a gash on his head, mostly hidden by his hair. It was nasty, but it wasn’t bleeding anymore. From just looking over him, he didn’t seem to have any other injuries, other than minor scrapes and bruises, so it was likely he had hit his head on something and been knocked unconscious.

You…weren’t entirely sure what to do, but there was no way you were just leaving him here. He could clearly breath out of the water, but he was an ocean creature, so he probably shouldn’t be kept out of the water too long, lest his skin…or scales… dry out. And it couldn’t hurt to clean the gash on his head, either.

Mind made up; you stalked off to seek supplies.

You made your way back with a garden cart full of first aid supplies and a rough plan you had cooked up on the walk. The first order of business would be to at least clean his wounds. Typically, you would bandage them as well, but…that would require keeping the bandages dry. And that would be virtually impossible while also trying to keep his skin from drying out, so a simple cleaning it was. The second step would be to somehow get him into the garden cart and haul him off to one of the larger tide pools a little farther down the shore. Your first thought was to bring him to your home and place him in your bathtub, so you could monitor him, but that wouldn’t work. Though his torso was about average sized for a human man, his tail made him somewhere around seven feet from the top of his head to the trailing tips of his tailfins. There was no way you could fit him comfortably in the tub, and you weren’t sure about putting a sea creature in a bathtub with fresh water. From what little you knew of fish, which he about half resembled, it could be deadly to shift the salinity of the water they were in. You could be wrong, but you didn’t want to take any chances. With the tidepool, it would be filled with the very same salt water you saw him swim in before, but even at high tide it would be shallow and calm.

Plan in place, it was now just executing it.

You started with his head wound first. First, you rubbed the dried blood off his face, revealing his delicate visage. You still stood by your first assessment of him; he did look angelic. The perfect symmetry of his face, the elegant line of his nose and the sooty brush of his eyelashes…it was all so well put together it became inhuman. His skin was cool and slightly clammy to the touch, and you wondered if that’s what it always felt like. The fins on the side of his face felt surprisingly delicate, and you made sure to be extra careful in wiping them clean. His hair was soft, a lot softer than you would have assumed; your hair always turned unpleasantly crunchy after drying from salt water.

You did your best to clean the dried blood from his skin and detangle it from his hair. There was still some left, around the area of the gash, but you were too nervous to scrub at it lest the scab come off and continue bleeding again.

You moved on to the rest of his body. There wasn’t much you could do about the bruises, but you could at least wipe down the scrapes and cuts. The rest of his skin felt similarly clammy, but the patches of scales littering his body were smooth and dry. They were small and scattered, until about his waist level, where they slowly faded into larger and harder scales at his tail. Even just lightly brushing down his body, you could feel the muscle beneath skin and scales. He must be a powerful swimmer, you mused.

Then you were faced with what would be your most difficult task yet: getting him into the cart.

You didn’t consider yourself a weak person, but there was a clear difference between being weak and not being able to lift a probably almost two-hundred-pound sea creature gently into a rickety cart.

You sighed. This would be quite an ordeal.

It took the better part of an hour, but finally he was settled into the tide pool. He looked perfectly angelic floating a few inches beneath the water’s surface, head cushioned on a seaweed-covered rock while his hair floated out in a halo around him. He looked much better when he was clean of blood and back under the water. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of you.

You were caked with sand, from kneeling to tend to his wounds and from flailing around trying to lift him. You were also soaked from sea water and no small amount of sweat. Overall, you were a complete mess in desperate need of a shower. However reluctant you were to simply leave your water angel to float in his pool, you needed to clean yourself. And to get some food.

Your eyes lingered on the creature once more before you left. Maybe you could make yourself another picnic. And maybe you should bring some extra food for him. You probably couldn’t go wrong with some fish, right?

It was strange sitting next to the creature while you ate your meal. It felt like sitting beside a hospital bed waiting for a coma patient to wake up, and a little bit like having lunch by a corpse. Not exactly the most appetizing, but your struggles getting him over into the tide pool had generated enough hunger to override the slight morbidity.

You began to wonder if you would need to bring out a blanket and camp out overnight, because who knew when your creature would wake up. Or even if he would at all, you thought, and the idea sent a strange pang through your chest.

Your gaze drifted to the sand. You didn’t know him at all, and yet your life was connected to his. And if he lived, his to yours.

Your musings were broken by a splashing noise.

The creature was upright now, partially. He was facing you, head and shoulders above the water and webbed hands gripping the rock. His wide blue eyes bored into yours. He looked stunned; there was also an edge of fear in his gaze.

He was finally awake.

You were the first to break the silent staring contest you both were stuck in ever since he awoke.

“Hi,” you said, breathless. “Thank you for saving me. It was you, right?”

He tilted his head to the side slightly, and you didn’t know if this was an acknowledgement of what you’re saying or not.

You continued anyway. “I found you on the beach. I…didn’t really know what to do, so I cleaned you off and brought you here, so you would hopefully be safer than where you were.”

His face was still blank as he watched yours. Finally, he reached one pale hand out towards you, like he was asking for something. You thought he was asking for some of the fish you brought out for him, and moved to give it to him. That wasn’t the right answer, apparently, as he let out a low hissing sound that caused you to startle and drop the food into the sand.

He held his hand out again, looking at you expectantly. You didn’t have anything else you could hand him, so you just looked at him in confusion.

He let out another noise, this one more of a low coaxing churr. His eyes glanced down towards your hand, then back up to your face. He repeated the churr.

Oh, you realized. He wanted your hand. You’re a bit hesitant, because the black claws on the tips of his fingers look wickedly sharp. But he looked so earnest…so you placed your hand in his.

You immediately regretted it.

Quick as lightning, he used his iron grip on your hand to yank you forward, until you tumbled into the tidal pool with him.

Your face went under the water for what was probably only a fraction of a second, but it was enough to ratchet your heartrate up to a dangerous speed. You had still not completely forgotten drowning.

Luckily for you, the creature took mercy on you and hauled you up until you were sitting up, half out of the water and balanced on the thick width of his tail. Still, you were once again soaking and spluttering, and you tried to yank your hand out of his grip again.

“What was that!?” you screeched at him, not expecting an answer.

“I’m sorry.”

You were left gaping at him. His mouth hadn’t opened at all, but you heard a voice, clear as crystal. “…What?”

“I’m sorry for pulling you into the water like that. I didn’t know how to get you into the water with me otherwise…” He let go of your hand, and moved that arm to rest behind your back, supporting you so you didn’t tumble back into the water. “You see, I can only speak to you when you are in the same water as me. I wanted to thank you. For taking me off of the beach, and for making sure I was safer. I probably would have been fine, but…it was nice. Of you. To do that. So thank you.”

Your mouth was dry. You had no idea what you were supposed to do or say now. “It was nothing. I just couldn’t stand to leave you there if I could help it. Anyway, it was the least I could do in return for you saving me, even if I don’t know why you did it.”

“You were scared. I could feel it. You were scared, and you were dying. It’s as you said before – I couldn’t leave you there if I could help it.” He sounded so earnest, and all of a sudden you were so so grateful that he happened to be there at the right moment to help you.

Overwhelmed, you threw your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you for saving my life.”

He was stiff and cold under you, arms hovering awkwardly behind your back like he didn’t know what to do with them. “Ah…you’re welcome.” One hand came down to gently pat you on the back. You found yourself smiling at his small attempt at comforting you.

You pulled back, noticing how he shivered lightly at the brush of your fingertips on his shoulders as your arms retreated.

Your mood sunk a bit when your attention dropped back to the light scrapes and bruises decorating his skin, multicolored splatters on the pale canvas of his torso. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you? When I hugged you? I should have been gentler, you’re injured still –”

“It’s okay,” he said, placatingly. “I barely feel them.”

You pursed your lips together. “What about your head?”

At this, he winced. “Sore.”

“What even happened to you?”

He broke eye contact with you, for the first time. His face was still blank, but you thought you could see a flicker of something akin to embarrassment in the tidal depths of his blue eyes. “I got caught up in the storm…I should have gone farther out to deeper water, but I didn’t think about it. I’m not used to the shallows. The last thing I remember was getting swept up in a wave, and then I woke up here. I think I must have hit my head on a rock.”

Your lips tilted down even further, now a full frown. “Why were you in the shallows, then, if you aren’t used to them? I thought fish species typically stayed around the same ocean depth their whole lives?” It took you a second to realize what you said, and then you could feel yourself flush. “I mean I wasn’t comparing you to a fish! You’re clearly much more advanced than that! Much smarter. And better. Um.”

He seemed amused by your floundering. “It’s okay. I know what you meant; I’m not offended. I’m glad you think I’m better than a fish.”

You realized he was teasing you, if lightly, and you felt yourself flush even more. “Well, Mr. Better-than-Fish, what were you doing in the shallows?”

He broke eye contact again. He was embarrassed, it was clearer to you now. “…I wanted to check on you. To make sure you were alive.” He paused, drawing his eyes back from the horizon to your face. “You weren’t on the beach anymore, but I couldn’t see you for several days. I didn’t know if you lived somewhere else, and had already gone home, or if something had happened to you. I was hoping to see you on the beach again, just so I would know you were safe. And then I did see you. But I never meant for you to see me again.”

“Why did you stick around?” you said softly. “You saw me. You could have left then, and I would have never seen you again.”

“Maybe I liked seeing you. Maybe I liked watching you look for me, every day.”

Your breath hitched. “You could have come to me before now.”

“My kind aren’t supposed to interact with humans.”

“Your kind?”

“Mer, I suppose, is what humans call us.”

Ah. That makes sense, you thought. Mer. “I thought of you as an angel. A water angel.”

“Why?” He asked. There was the lightest dusting of cherry-blossom pink over the tops of his cheekbones.

“Because you appeared to me when I was on the brink of death.” You paused, debating on whether or not you should elaborate. “And because you were beautiful. Are beautiful.”

The pink on his cheeks deepened to a shade of rose. He was, in fact, still beautiful. Especially with that blush. You were glad you had chosen to speak your mind, if only so you got to see his cheeks darkening prettily like that.

“Sorry, I don’t think I ever introduced myself,” you said, sheepishly. You told him your name.

He repeated it, and you felt a tingle go down your spine at hearing it in his voice. “My name is Giyuu.”

“Giyuu.” You repeated. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Giyuu.”

He gave you a small smile. “Likewise.”

Giyuu then turned, looking back out into the sea. “I suppose I should go now that I’m awake.”

A bolt of fear went through you, more severe than you ever would have expected. You found you couldn’t bear the thought of letting him go and possibly never seeing him again; not after you had just found him. “You should stay here,” you blurted out. “To heal, I mean. I can bring you food, and whatever you need. But you need rest.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, hesitantly. “I don’t want to cause you trouble.” A flicker of what almost looked like relief flashed through his eyes. Maybe he also did not want to leave you. This was the same Giyuu who stuck lingered for days just to watch you…perhaps he really did wish to spend more time with you. You could only hope he felt a sliver of the desire to remain as you felt to keep him with you.

“Positive.”

“Okay,” he replied softly.

The rest of your next week was spent with Giyuu. Every day, you would wake up, prepare breakfast for the both of you, and set off towards the tidal pool.

You would arrive to him doing slow laps around the pool; he would immediately swim over to the edge of the water to greet you, his ebony hair dripping water down his shoulders and across his torso. He didn’t ever pull you into the water anymore, and instead you would remove your shoes and socks and dangle your feet into the water while the rest of you stayed safe and dry on the rocks. And the two of you would just eat, and talk.

You would only really leave him to go retrieve more food, get a few restless hours of sleep, or to get human objects to bring down and show him. A majority of the time you spent soaking in his presence; your feet were almost permanently pruned at this point, but you wanted to hear him speak, so at least one limb was partially submerged at all times.

Likewise, he would never be anywhere else; when you were gone, you assumed he slept and swam in circles around the pool, but he abandoned whatever he was doing the second you showed up to talk with you.

You talked about anything and everything under the sun. You did not feel any reluctance in telling him all about your life, more than you think you’ve ever told one person. He was fascinated not just by the human world you described, but with you. You had never talked so much about yourself, but you didn’t feel self-conscious. Even talking about your greatest regrets, your deepest anxieties and fears…you found yourself spilling them to him and receiving soft reassurances in return. Even when he was awkward, and clearly didn’t know what to say, he tried his best, and he was earnest in his attempts to make you feel better. That alone was always enough to lift your mood.

Of course, you asked him about his life as well. You learned about what life was like as a mer, and what his family was like, before their passing. He told you about the other mer he met later on, about how they weren’t cruel to him, but they weren’t always kind, either. He said it was his fault, simply because he was hard to talk to. He confessed to you that he believed they all hated him, even though he did not want them too. He just didn’t know how to get close to anyone, not anymore. He even told you, in the softest of whispers, how he wondered sometimes if everyone hated him, and he would never again have the kind of love that he had with his family. You tried your best to console him, telling him you couldn’t imagine anyone hating him. “And if they do,” you added, “Which I’m sure they don’t, you always have me.”

He gave you another one of his small, but genuine, smiles, and replied, “Maybe I should just stay here with you forever.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” you said, and the subject was dropped. But you didn’t forget it. You only hoped that he was genuine…because you truly wouldn’t mind him staying by you forever.

But deep in your heart, you knew he couldn’t stay in that small pool indefinitely. You were already sure he was completely healed; most of his scrapes had faded to white lines by now, and the bruises were gone. Even the gash on his head was more than halfway healed, and he didn’t give any indication of having headaches or anything of the sort. And you saw him looking out, into the ocean…he needed the space.

You would just savor the time you did have; savor the talks, savor the sight of his elegant face covered in rice crumbs from messily eating the sushi you provided him, savor the sight of his powerful body gliding through the water effortlessly. You would make the most of your time before his inevitable departure; you would make enough memories with him to last you his impending absence.

It only took until you were used to your new routine for something drastic to occur.

You began your day as normal, making the short trip down to the tidal pools with a spring in your step. You had made a new type of food for Giyuu to try, and you were excited to see his reaction. You noticed that your overall mood had improved ever since he became a regular fixture in your life. Maybe you were lonelier than you thought, living in your remote little cabin by the sea.

However, once you arrived, you were greeted with a seemingly empty pool. No sign of Giyuu anywhere.

Your hands tightened on your picnic basket. Could he have slipped back out into the sea overnight? There was quite the expanse of rocks separating the pool from the main body of the sea, but it could be possible… You just didn’t know why he would leave you without even a goodbye.

Your heart clenched uncomfortably in your chest. Perhaps he really didn’t care for you as much as he seemed to…or as much as you cared for him. Perhaps he just needed the food, and had to keep the one giving it to him happy…

You crept closer to the pool, peering in from the edge. Finally, you saw something.

You exhaled in relief, shoulders untensing. He hadn’t left; instead, he was lying on the bottom of the pool. At first you thought he was sleeping, but his eyes were open, and he was flicking his tail back and forth like he couldn’t get comfortable.

You sat down, setting your basket aside. You gently patted the surface of the water a few times, creating small ripples that echoed out from where your hand touched. You saw Giyuu freeze suddenly.

In a second, his head was poking up over the water. Only his head breached the water, however, and he remained outside of reach from where you sat on the rocks.

Not only was his behavior that day strange, but he looked…sick. His face was flushed red, as if he was fevered, and his eyes were blown wide. He was breathing heavily as well, too heavily for how little he was moving.

“Are you okay?” you asked, brows furrowed.

He nodded jerkily, obviously lying. “I’m fine. You should just go back up to your cabin.”

“No!” you said, incredulously. “You look sick. I’m not leaving you here when something is obviously wrong.”

He let out a low rasping sound, almost a growl, startling you. You had never heard anything like that from him…it was deep, aggressive, and animal.

“No. You need to leave. Now.”

You scowled. “I refuse. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He dove back under the water in lieu of replying.

“Hey!” you yelled. Normally, you wouldn’t push him if he said he wanted space. But it was clear that something was wrong with him, and he was hiding it from you. What if you could help, and things just got worse because he was too stubborn to get your help?

You stood up, and made to start wading deeper into the pool, uncaring about how your clothes were getting soaked. If he was going to be like that, you would just have to chase him down.

It wasn’t the most well-thought-out plan; he was a much better and faster swimmer than you, built for the water while you were built for dry terrain. The pool wasn’t large, but it was big enough for Giyuu to swim around comfortably, meaning he could feasibly stay out of your reach by just swimming away. He could also stay under the water indefinitely, a skill you sadly lacked. It didn’t help that you were still hesitant to submerge yourself, your mind still lingering on its vivid memories of drowning.

Yet you didn’t think about any of this, your mind clouded with annoyance, and more prominently, worry.

You were nearly all the way submerged. The water was lapping gently at the dip of your collar bone, and your heartbeat had kicked up against your will. Your breaths were shallower than normal, dormant anxiety forming iron bands around your lungs, but you pushed past it. You were in no danger; there were no waves, the water wasn’t deep, and you were a reasonably competent swimmer. You were just about to dive into the water when he reappeared.

Unlike before, this time he was close. Close enough for your slightly gasping breaths to shift his wet hair. Up close, his condition seemed even more severe. His eyes were nearly all black now, deep blue covered by the spreading inkblots of his pupils. He was still red and panting, mouth open, revealing long, needle-like teeth.

“Why don’t you just leave?!” he said. His voice was deeper than usual, rough. You could hear a low growl starting up in his chest again, so low you could almost feel it through the water. “Don’t you understand how hard you’re making this for me? I’m trying so hard…”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, almost pleadingly. “I don’t understand. You just look like you’re in pain. You can’t expect me to ignore that!”

He bared his teeth, growling getting louder. “I’m not sick. I’m not hurt. But you need to leave. So you don’t get hurt. So I don’t hurt you.”

Your gaze softened. “Oh, Giyuu…I trust you. You wouldn’t hurt me. I just want to help you. Let me help you.” Impulsively, you reached one hand out to graze your fingers over his cheek.

He let out a full-body shudder at your touch, eyes slipping shut. When he reopened them, there was something dark in their depths.

“Do you really want to know what’s wrong with me?” Deceptively strong hands grabbed onto your waist, pulling you until your body was flush with his. You let out a gasp.

Through your wet clothes, you could feel the ridges of his muscles, the light pinch of his claws on your hips…and something else, against your front. Something large, and stiff, pressed between your bodies.

Your breath hitched. Was that…?

“I don’t think I told you before…” he purred, “But Mer have mating seasons…where all we want to do is fuck…and breed. Normally, I would just hide away, ride it out on my own…But then you had to come here, tempting me. How am I supposed to resist such a lovely creature bringing me food…taking care of me…acting like they want to be my mate? Offering to ‘help me’ with my rut? Don’t you realize what you do to me, baby?” He pulled you close again, grinding against your stomach almost unconsciously.

You could not even speak, only letting out a small squeaking noise as he rubbed against you. Mate? Breed? You knew he wasn’t human, but this…you should have been repulsed, or at the very least offput by this information. Instead, you could feel liquid heat pooling in your abdomen like molten lava.

His hands flexed on your hips, claws ripping through your clothes and scratching your bare skin. Then he let you go, leaving you to quickly flounder to keep your face above water. He looked like it physically hurt him to tear himself away from you, teeth clenching and muscles flexing as he hovered an arm’s length away from you.

“You need to leave if you don’t want this,” he said, panting heavily. “Because I won’t be able to hold myself back if you stay.”

The obvious answer was to take the chance and run. To not agree to get fucked by a sea creature. Go back and hide in your cabin until this was all over, and then continue as you were until Giyuu inevitably left you and all of this faded away like a dream.

And yet…he was beautiful. Ethereal, strong, and even caring…the thought of being bred by him was intoxicating.

You didn’t leave. “Fuck me,” you said, voice a little shaky, yet confident in your decision.

With those two words, he was on you.

Giyuu’s claws were back, this time ripping your clothes right off you. Soon, you both were surrounded by a halo of floating fabric scraps; even your underwear was not spared.

Divested of this one last barrier between you, hands on your hips yanked you back against him. He resumed grinding on you, frantically; you couldn’t see much of him because of the water, but you could feel him. His cock was thick, with ridges running along the length of it; you couldn’t get a good judge of his length with his movements, but you knew it would reach deep inside of you.

He wasn’t providing you any sort of real stimulation, humping your body like a dog in heat but missing where you were hottest. The water was disguising the wetness that you knew would otherwise be dripping down your thighs. He hadn’t even done anything, but you were more aroused than you could ever remember being, just hearing his panting in your ear as he chased his own pleasure, feeling the strange clicking, purring sound vibrating in his chest.

But it wasn’t enough for him.

He let go of your waist just to swim under you and hook his arms under your knees, lifting you up out of the water only to pull you back down so your exposed pussy rubbed directly against his cock.

You let out an embarrassing whine as you felt the ridges on his dick slide against your clit. You threw your arms around his neck to grip on his hair, pulling a light rolling growl out of him.

He ground against you a few times, fucking his cock between the swollen folds of your labia. You couldn’t hold back your own noises when you felt him nudge against the little nub at the apex of your sex, sending little electric jolts of pleasure up your spine.

And then the pointed tip of his cock caught against your entrance.

Giyuu froze for a second, wide, black eyes gazing into yours as you panted into each other’s mouths. You became hyper-aware of every sensation. You could feel the flutter of his gills tickling your forearms; the sensation of his damp hair tangled up in between your clenched hands; his webbed hands braced on your back, claws definitely leaving thin scratch mark in your flesh.

And then your focus was drawn back to a single point as he thrust his cock fully into your soaking pussy.

You let out a shriek. You weren’t exaggerating about his size earlier; you felt completely split open. Your poor cunt was trying valiantly to clench around him, but he had you gaping so much you couldn’t do more than lightly flutter your inner walls around his length. He was long, reaching up all the way to prod at the entrance of your womb. You could have sworn you could taste him in your throat, he was so deep.

He let out his own moan. “I’m so deep in you baby,” he said, almost deliriously. “I can feel it--uh--can’t you? I’m filling up your whole pussy.”

You moaned. “Yesss…can barely fit you…so big…”

He thrust into you, slowly, only once, like he was trying to get you used to it. You could almost count all of the strange ridges lining his cock as they ground against every sensitive spot inside of you, making you let out another gush of fluid to get washed away by the gently lapping water.

You clenched on him again, tugging at his hair. This seemed to rip away the last of his restraint.

He started thrusting into you rapidly, pulling you almost completely off of his cock only to force you back down as he simultaneously flexed his tail up, impaling you onto his thick length. It was like he was carving the perfect space for himself into your pussy, ridges sawing against your walls, making them even more sensitive. His tip slammed perfectly against your cervix, as if begging entrance to your womb, so he could breed you more directly.

The sheer overwhelming sensation of having all the nerves in your soft, wet cunt pressed and scraped against by his massive cock caused you to come almost immediately. Your head lolled back as you rode out your orgasm, waves of electric heat pulsing through you like waves crashing against the shore. You clenched down hard on Giyuu’s still-moving length, your pussy gripping every bump like it was trying to seal him inside you.

“Ohh, baby, so perfect for me…” he slurred. “Perfect mate, made just for me—”

You could do nothing more than whine, as he continued to abuse your pussy at the same frantic pace as before, almost ignoring your pathetic attempts to squeeze around him as you were pushed into overstimulation.

Your mind was starting to drift…after around the third time, you lost count of how many times you had come. It didn’t matter anyway, because no matter how many times you clenched around him and cried your way through orgasm, he never let up his tempo, continuing to fuck you as if it was the only thing keeping him sane. You would have thought he was completely in his own mind, unaware of the delicious damage he was doing to your body, if it wasn’t for the intermittent churrs of praise he panted into your ringing ears. These were interspersed by nips and bites to your neck and shoulders; you were so deep in pleasure that his needle-sharp teeth burned in a good way as they repeatedly pierced your spin, leaving bleeding marks decorating your skin red.

You were nearly unconscious by the time his rhythm finally faltered, his strokes turning harder and sloppier, no longer with the perfect staccato tempo of before. You would think your nerves would be too worn out to feel anything, but he still managed to hit your cervix hard enough to send an almost painful shock of pure sensation through you.

“M’gonna breed you now,” he whined, sounding absolutely wrecked, even though, by your count, he was the one wrecking you. “Gonna fill you up so good--my pretty mate—"

“Please,” you managed to eek out, tongue heavy in your mouth.

He thrust into you one last time, hitting the tip of his cock against the entrance to your womb as he came.

You could tell when he was about to come because his whole cock seemed to twitch inside you, and the ridges swelled up even more, until he was completely plugging your pussy, with no chance of pulling out. Then, he filled you with his come.

But…it wasn’t come, your orgasm-drunk mind realized after a minute. Your pussy was being filled to bursting with what felt like small, jelly-like spheres…

You let out a broken moan. He was breeding you. He was filling you with his eggs.

The steady pulse of eggs seemed to go on for eternity; the sensation of being filled so much caused you to orgasm again, more of a dry shudder at this point than anything else, but it caused Giyuu to coo at you and stroke his cool, sticky tongue over your lips in a mockery of a first kiss.

You let him lap fully into your mouth, closer to a proper kiss, even if it was messy and dripping…you tried to suck on his tongue, but it was too long, and he ended up fucking it in and out of your throat instead.

Once the eggs finally stopped, Giyuu gently ground into your throbbing pussy until he filled you even more, this time with a warm pulse of thick, sticky liquid that spread out in between what little gaps were left by his eggs. You could feel his whine vibrating up though his mouth into yours and he stilled completely for the first time in ages.

He pulled his tongue out of your throat to roughly whisper praise to you, but you barely heard any of it as your body slipped into blissful unconsciousness, its ordeal finally over.

You awoke to Giyuu cradling you in his arms, gently licking at the bite marks that scattered your neck and shoulders. He had pulled out, leaving your full cunt to drip his come slowly into the water. You felt bloated, and sore, and your neck stung, but you also felt a bone deep satisfaction.

“You’re awake,” he turned your head so he could look into your eyes. His pupils had shrunk back down to normal, revealing the deep ocean blue once more. “I’m sorry for hurting you,” he whispered, stroking a fingertip lightly along the red and inflamed puncture wound he had caused, eyes drifting to them, almost regretfully. “I couldn’t hold myself back…”

“It’s okay,” you said, voice raspy from screaming. “It felt good.”

He didn’t seem convinced; his face was back to its normal blankness, but you could see the faint furrow between his brows.

Seeing his distress, you lifted an arm up to pull his head towards you, pressing your lips together softly. This kiss, unlike your first, was chaste, just a brief meeting of lips, but it was enough to relax him. You gave him a small smile. “You’re so sweet, taking care of me,” you cooed, only slightly teasing him. It was amusing to see the creature who had just fucked your brains out mere hours ago blush prettily at being called ‘sweet’.

You would miss him dearly when he left you. He must have seen your face drop, because his mood shifted towards the melancholy as well.

“Still…I should have held back. I didn’t want it to happen like that.” He murmured, tucking his face into your neck, still ashamed.

You froze, hand mid-way through stroking his hair. “What do you mean?”

“I wanted to make you my mate before this,” he replied, “I had a plan…I was going to court you, once I was well enough to leave. Mer court their mates with gifts, and I have nothing here, even though you bring me things every day. But I had forgotten about my cycle, and here we are.”

You almost couldn’t believe your ears. “You want me to be your mate?”

He pulled back to look at your face quizzically. “I thought I had made that clear before.”

“No,” you squeaked.

His face dropped. “I thought my intentions were obvious…I thought you reciprocated, but it’s okay if you don’t. I thank you for your help anyways. I can leave whenever you want.”

“No!” you blurted again. If you knew nothing else, you knew you wanted him to stay. “Mates, that’s like marriage, right? We’ll be each other’s?”

He nodded, face still carefully empty.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging him until your noses brushed. “That sounds wonderful. You being mine, me being yours…I don’t mind it if you leave when you want, as long as you remember to come back to me.”

“I’ll always come back for you baby,” he said, smiling softly as he kissed you lovingly. “My lovely mate.”

You had known him only a few days, but you couldn’t imagine your life without him anymore. He lit up your days, just with his presence; he made you happier than you had been in a very long time. You should have been more cautious, instead of immediately promising yourself to him, but the soft, syrupy warmth you felt as he kissed you was intoxicating. You only hoped that this sensation would never go away.

#giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka x reader #giyuu smut #tomioka giyuu x reader #tomioka giyuu #kny smut #kny #mdni #kny x reader #monster-october-kny-2023 #writing tags like i'm throwing spaghetti at the wall #romy can write #strange lovers event #afab reader

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rustedhearts · 10 months

Text

severed lamb: part iii: the sinners (pastor!steve x fem!reader)

summary: you visit the church on a hot summer night to thank pastor steve for his recent gift. you should've known: only the sinners come out at night.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♰ severed lamb masterlist ♰ ♰ main masterlist ♰

tags: religious trauma/imagery, age gap (steve is 35, reader is 19), manipulation, abuse of power, really just insane sexual tension and steve being icky.

♰ Wyndgate, Georgia July 1981 ♰

You hid the shoes from Mama.

Stuffed beneath old boxes in your closet, buried beneath the mess of your youth left over—the pale pink silk came out only when you were alone in the dark. You crept across the prickly carpet with bare knees, the chitter of grasshoppers in the field, and cicadas in the trees filling the lull of night. Your bedroom bathed in inky darkness, beams of moonlight beaconing across the wood panels of your walls—you slithered off your bed, freeing yourself from the stiff and sticky sheets, and inched open your closet.

There, you held them in your hands. You studied their featherlight weight, their soft satin feel, the solid firmness of their toe. You slipped them onto your feet, warm from a half sleep, and wrapped the ribbons around your calves.

And then you prayed.

Elbows pressed into the bed, hands clasped together, knelt against the scratchy rug. Eyes pinched shut, cross necklace delicately resting against your chest, pointe shoes barely tapped together behind you.

But as you murmured to God, you thought only of Steve.

His wide, warm hands with the tough working calluses. Those round, earthy eyes with specks of mud, braced with long lashes that tickled his thick brows. The shape of his lips, bowed and broad, a shade of pink between rose and scarlet. How he smelled—God, that smell. Smoked with musk, sweet with heat, a hint of something woodsy. He didn't smell like the other boys here—like Camels and beer and truck exhaust. He smelled like heaven.

You prayed for God to absolve you of this sin. Because you knew, despite years of your mother's coaxing to find yourself "a hard-working fella with firm hands," that God would punish you for your mindful wanderings. Lust was a sin, after all.

When you fell asleep, God punished you with dreams of Steve. Dreams that had you writhing and squirming beneath the sheets, mewling into the feathers of your pillows. When you awoke, a torturous ache pulsed between your legs.

First, you must suffer for your sins.

♰ ♰

But still, you were a good Southern girl—or at least you tried to be. Georgians valued hospitality above all, and you'd be doing your daddy wrong if you didn't thank Pastor Steve properly.

Saturday afternoon, you scaled the cherry tree in your backyard. Mama was at her friend Patty's, drinking Bloody Marys on her porch and gabbing about town murmurings. You had to be quick while she was away. You made quick work of plucking the ripest, juiciest cherries and washing them in the sink. You mixed up all the fixings for the dough, kneading the floured, squishy material until it was firm. It chilled in the fridge while you cleaned the stove.

A few hours later, when the sun went down and Mama was on her way home, the cherry pie was perfectly golden, crispy, and bleeding tart cherry. You wrapped it in a plastic bag from the grocery store and freshened up. You'd be lying if you said Steve didn't linger in the back of your mind as you pulled on the thin cotton of your favorite sundress—pink and strappy. It matched the color of your new shoes, hidden once again in your closet.

You passed your mother on your way down the drive. Kicking up puffs of dirt behind you, cradling the warm pie in your hands. Mama staggered on the way up, flailing wildly to find her bearings in the open air. The sinking sun cast a creamsicle shadow across her dull eyes. A cackle left her when she spotted you, and you scuffled to a stop on your way down.

"Lilah! Lilah, my sweet girl, give your mama a kiss hello."

Her hands were clammy and warm on your cheeks, squishing them together, pulling you close, teetering you from side to side like rocking a baby. You cringed away from her, clutching the warm pie tight to your stomach. You'd never forgive yourself for giving Pastor Steve a squished pie.

"Mama," you huffed, attempting to yank your face from her hands. "Mama, I'm goin' somewhere."

Your mother skittered back, movements loose and liquid like she'd been flipped upside down and shaken free of inhibition. Her smile was crooked, eyes drooped, wrists limp where her hands dangled near her hips.

"Alright," she drawled, "Lord, you don't wanna spend no more time with your mama. Wha-dI ever do t' you?"

Watching her hike up the driveway toward the house was like watching a calf learn how to walk. You didn't have the energy to play mother and nudge her to her feet. You just watched, clinging to your plastic-wrapped pie dish, as she scuffed up dirt clouds and stumbled around. She went head-first into the house, and a loud clatter came through the open windows seconds after the door closed.

Sighing, you turned around and drifted down the drive, praying the dirt wouldn’t ruin your white sneakers—praying Mama wouldn’t snoop and find your shoes.

But most of all: praying Pastor Steve would be glad to see you.

♰ ♰

Wyndgate went dark by the time you reached the church. A few cars lingered in the lot, stragglers wandering from their after-work prayers in the back pews. The drunken sinners and the half-beat housewives staggered and skittered out like roaches. You tried not to be so judgmental (that was God’s job, after all) but Mama raised you a little brown on the nose.

Straightening your spine and pulling back your shoulders, you fixed your cross, tugged at the hem of your dress, and walked your way through the church doors. The floorboards squeaked beneath your shoes on your way down the aisle, cherry pie still ebbing with warmth in your arms. Pastor Steve was in one of the first pews, collecting pamphlets from the floor and wiping dirt from the shiny soak seats. The plastic-wrapped pie crinkled when you shifted your hands around the porcelain dish.

“Pastor Steve—“

“Oh!”

You jumped, shuffling back against the aisle carpet when Pastor Steve whirled around with a shout. He smacked a hand over his heart when he saw you standing there, pink paper in hand. Chest heaving with heavy breaths, the man’s cheeks grew a colorful shade close to the pamphlet he clutched, and a sheepish smile breezed over his face.

“Delilah,” he sighed, clutching the pew with his other hand. “It’s just you.”

You gnawed on your lip, toes clicking together on the carpet. “S-sorry for scarin’ you, Pastor.”

Steve waved his hand, straightening to a steady posture. He looked at the pamphlet, now crumpled, and placed it as neatly as possible in the pew shelf, tucked between the bible. It looked like an ad for choir singers.

“Not at all, Delilah. You here for a chat?”

Steve shuffled out of the pew, coming to stand with his hands on his hips before you. He smelled real good today. Like strong, sweet coffee, something nutty and buttery beneath it. His hair was freshly-washed: soft and bouncy, hints of caramel brown in the front coil. You wanted to run your fingers through it. The thought made you ache between the thighs. Please Lord, take these sinful thoughts from me.

“Actually, I wanted to thank you. I made a pie,” you admitted quietly, gazing down at the dessert collecting condensation on the plastic wrap.

Steve followed your eyes, delighted at the sight of it. He thought of those cherries in the field that day behind your house, and how graceful you looked scaling the tree. Like some sort of woodland nymph, foraging for berries.

“Thank me for what, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Your chest blossomed and boomed, tendrils of muscles aching at the sound of that word slipping from his mouth. Sweetheart. Were you his sweetheart? Your cheeks felt sore with heat at the thought. Something deep in your gut pulsed and cried.

“We-well fo-for…for the shoes, Pastor Steve,” you whispered, glancing at the other pews. Few sinners remained on their knees.

Steve, still looming above you with his hands on his hips, followed your drifting eyes. The corner of his lip held the whisper of a smile. “Now I’m certain I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Delilah.”

A bubble of embarrassment boiled hot behind your navel. You shifted your weight, fidgeting with the loose end of the plastic wrap on the underside of the dish. You dropped your eyes to the floor, the tops of Steve's brown loafers particularly interesting. They were perfectly clean, not even a trace of mud. With the dry heat Georgia's been suffering through, you weren't surprised.

Had you got it wrong? Was it not Steve that gave you the new pointe shoes? Who else could it have been?

"But I think," Pastor Steve spoke up, voice a little high with an amused coo. "I might know who's responsible."

You lifted your gaze just a smidge. "You do?"

"Mhm. C'mon."

Steve headed toward the front of the church, the old door to the office upstairs coming into view. You glanced around once more, finding even fewer people remaining. The hunched woman in the back of the room had her eyes shut so tight, you were certain she was worlds away. No one would notice. Your eyes shifted toward the wooden cross behind the podium at the head of the room—the perfectly-carved depiction of Jesus dripping tears and bleeding from his palms and feet. The thorns striking his head.

He would notice.

"Delilah," Steve called softly, standing in the doorway now. He held it open for you, head tipping when you looked his way. "You comin'?"

Steve had a way of looking at you that made you feel like the prettiest girl in the room, even if you weren't. He had a way of looking at you that made you feel like something rare and precious, something worth taking the time to admire. He had a way of pulling you in.

On your way to Steve, you looked toward the cross again.

You could've sworn the tears of Jesus were gone.

♰ ♰

In the attic, the heat was stifling. Even with the absence of the sun, the heat felt palpable. So stiff and thick you could've chewed on it like rubber. You took a deep breath in as Steve closed the door behind you and turned on a lamp. The white wooden walls collected a faint amber glow, collecting in a halo on the arched ceiling. Steve's shoes thunked across the carpet. You could almost smell the dust.

Turning around toward Steve, you prepared yourself for an earnest apology. "Pastor Steve, I just wanted to—"

"You're welcome."

You paused, lips parted in silence. Steve slipped his hands into the front pocket of his trousers—tight at the hips, loose at the calves, the color of midnight. He wasn't wearing a robe, and his shoulders seemed even more broad stretched beneath that crisp white button down.

"Beg your pardon?"

His shoes thunked again as he passed you, steps slow and meticulous. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. You held your breath in your throat when his elbow brushed your arm. You felt him stop, the size of his heat pushing against your back. You turned to peer at him in the low light. He pulled the rickety wooden chair of his desk back, but didn't sit.

"I said: you're welcome, Delilah."

You closed your mouth, blinking your brows into a frown. "B-but you said—"

Steve eased down into his seat with a sigh, sliding his palms against the arms of the chair until they rested forearms-down. Feet flat on the floor, spine straight against the back, thighs a few inches apart—he looked like a King in his throne.

"I know what I said," he murmured, voice no longer tipping toward a melodic coo. "I just thought we'd speak alone. You know, in private."

You swallowed. "O-okay."

Steve tipped his head, turning his face aside until you could only see his profile. That handsome, princely profile. The heat of the attic gathered on the back of your neck beneath your hair. A pool of sweat collected at the small of your spine beneath your dress. The fabric thinned with the wetness. Steve's shirt grew darker beneath his arms, a glossy shine gleaming over his forehead. Something about that made your mouth water. You imagined what the smell of his heat might be like up close. You wondered how the skin of his throat tasted, coated in sweat.

The silence that festered felt as tangible as the heat. The floor groaned when you teetered.

"Did you like them?"

You nodded meekly, suddenly too small for words. Steve hummed, letting his head loll back in place.

"Hmm. Good."

You swallowed again, throat growing dry in the absence of words and water. The pie in your hands felt a little cooler. You extended it, gripping tight.

"Well, I...I made this for you. S-Since you liked them cherries s' much."

Steve tipped his chin up, but he didn't look at the pie. He kept his eyes steady on you—you: with your meek little eyes that couldn't stand to look at him too long, and your pretty dress with the fabric so thin he could see the shape of your thighs touching under the hem. You: with your shaking fingers and your wobbly knees, and the socks with the frilly lace on the ruffled hems like a girl at communion. You: with your angelic cheeks and your goddess face, and the cross between your breasts that glinted at Steve.

He wanted to devour you. He couldn't wait any longer for a taste of that sinless skin.

"Bring it to me."

You kicked your eyes up, heat lapping at your spine at the sound of his voice commanding you. Tone rigid with demand, crawling up from deep in his throat and appearing with a rasp. But still, no matter what: so gentle. Just a little bit of a salt on the top of a chocolate chip cookie.

You took small steps forward, and Steve was patient. You stopped when your toes touched his, a small stuttered breath echoing from your nose. The pie dish teetered on its way to him. His palms ghosted yours when he collected it. The weight of his touch featherlight, the warmth of his skin scorching. It left the surface of your hands feeling like you'd touched the sun.

Steve placed the dish on the desk. The porcelain clatter sliced through the quiet. With two fingers, he gently peeled the plastic wrap apart. The sweet, tart smell of cherry bled through the heat of the attic. Steve brushed his finger over the firmness of the crust, humming again. You swept your hands behind your back, fingers woven together. You itched for his satisfaction and his unadulterated praise.

His fingers broke the surface, submerging into the gooey warmth inside. He curled them, and they reappeared coated in sticky scarlet jam. A whole cherry chunk sat between his thumb and index, golden crust gathered in his palm. Steve brought it to his mouth, lips closing around the bite ripped from the center of the pie. It was animalistic, it was crude: the way he sucked it down and licked his fingers clean. Each one disappeared into his mouth and returned with a pop, slurped clean of red.

You inhaled, breath catching in stuttered successions. Steve groaned, deep and guttural. The muscles in your stomach squeezed. The apex of your thighs burned hot.

"Glorious, Delilah," he murmured. When his tongue swept his lip, it appeared bright pink.

"Would you like some?" he asked, easing back into the chair again.

The tops of your ears scorched. "O-Oh, um—"

"Come on," he cooed, teeth scraping his reddened lip. "Indulge, Delilah."

Pastor Steve's words from the other day echoed in your mind. Sometimes we have to indulge. Keeps us good.

Weren't you good?

You followed Steve's hand as it approached the pie again. His fingers sank in with an obscene squelch. You squeezed again when he gathered another bite in his hand, this one destined for your mouth.

Steve chuckled, a bounding sound. "I can't reach your mouth up there, sweetheart."

Your attention snapped to his face, the smile gracing it wolfish and all teeth. Your knees gave in easier than you would've liked. You melted like butter in the lamplight, sinking to half your height against the carpet. It scratched your knees and itched your calves, but Steve's thighs pressing against your arms swept any other thought away.

The light was different down here. Darker, shadowed. Pastor Steve's eyes had never seemed so amazed.

His fingers approached and your jaw unhinged, giving way to a wet, writhing tongue and two rows of pearly teeth. Steve's other hand touched your chin, bracing you steady with gentle fingers. Your knees clenched, suctioning together with sticky skin.

You caught his eye as the first biting tang of cherry touched your tongue. They appeared wide and swampy, swimming with colors muddled by the darkness at this height. The air he exhaled smelled fruity. The tartness to the pie clung to your cheeks and made them ache. You closed your lips around his fingers, and your eyes fluttered shut.

The taste of him. Oh God, the taste of him. You licked and lapped, swirling your tongue around to clear away all the pie in search of just him. You gobbled it down, eager for just skin. His hand tightened around your chin, lengthening to cup your jaw. A sting gathered in your jaw from the weight of his hand on your tongue. But you were lost in him.

Steve sat back, watching you inch forward. You followed his lead without thought. You latched around his fingers and sucked them all clean, careful even to clear the crevices. He came away spit soaked and a little sore. He rested his wet hand on his knee, bits of jam and crust gathered on the pleats of his trousers. He gave your jaw a little squeeze.

You heaved for air, chest pumping in time to each desperate breath. The glimmer of your cross met the lamplight with every intake. Steve brought that wet hand, coated in your spit, to the channel of your throat. The pads of his fingers left a trail of cool dampness down the length of your neck and across your collarbones. Breezing down, outlining the shape of you.

Until he found the cross between your breasts. He traced the shape of that next, humming as he made the sign with his index. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, Steve placed his mouth just above your nose until you looked at him through your lashes.

"I hope you know," he whispered, words warm and damp. "I prayed for this."

When his mouth met yours, all you tasted was cherry. Tart, muddled, violent cherry. It burst in your mouth, tongue ejecting to deliver the taste. His teeth scraped, nipped; his hands took your face. The chair strained with a creak beneath his weight. The floor groaned under your knees. Your palm thumped to the floor for balance. A pathetic mewl echoed into the cavern of his mouth: full of nothing but you and pie.

Steve pulled away with a smack, lips detaching and expelling air. His thumbs rubbed your cheeks, tenderizing them with his callused skin. He huffed once, wiped at the sweat on his brow with his sleeve, and sat back again. He swept a finger across your lip lazily, heavy and soaked in spit.

“Oh yeah,” Steve sighed. “I prayed real hard for that.”

#rolly!#steve harrington #pastor!steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #joe keery #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve the hair harrington #stranger things fanfiction #dark steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steve harrington au

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silantryoo · 7 months

Text

BONUS [ LIKEALOOK ] — gaeul's ahn yujin.

kim gaeul, second year.

WARNINGS; manipulation, unrequited love, pining, mentions of sexual acts, self-sabotage, peer pressure, self-deprecation, coercion, power imbalance (5.7k)

jang wonyoung was beautiful.

she was ethereal, almost angel-like. her brown, doe-like eyes could make anyone lose track of their thoughts, becoming a bumbling, incoherent mess in front of said girl. her soft, princess-like smile could catch anyone's attention with just one glance, like a lighthouse shining though the foggy sea.

jang wonyoung was heaven-sent.

there was no one that came close to the level of elegance and beauty that she held. there were people who came close, people who came from similar backgrounds, and people who spoke in a similar manner. but even then, there was no one that could be jang wonyoung.

gaeul wasn't stupid. she knew all of this, just like any other person who had ever encountered the volleyball player.

and she knew that she could never, ever stand a chance against someone like her.

gaeul wasn't born with athleticism. even as a child, she preferred to stay indoors, opting to watch her peers play as she read books about dance and volleyball. at ten years old, she had begged her parents to take a chance on her, just that once, to let her try something she was passionate about despite her small stature. even then, she knew they always had doubts when it came to anything she did.

she wasn't pretty either, at least, not like wonyoung. her boyish charms, despite making her unique, could never hold a candle against someone like jang wonyoung. she knew it in her heart, even if anyone tried to say otherwise.

but gaeul could never hate the younger girl.

wonyoung had come into try-outs wide-eyed, an innocence filling up the room as she stepped in. she was filled with an excitement that gaeul hadn't seen in years.

it was refreshing, beautiful even.

the girl was young, and hailed from the same high school that yoo jimin had come from. she couldn't imagine the pressure. the whispers followed the young girl everywhere she went, and it didn't help that yeji made it as difficult as she could've for the younger girls.

but she outperformed all expectations, crushing all the doubt that yeji (who was greatly irritated) had for the girl. there was no denying that jang wonyoung played volleyball like it was dance, and everyone's eyes were on her.

everyone except gaeul's.

gaeul heard yujin before she saw her. she could hear the girl laughing from outside the olympic-sized gym, joking about something dumb to get a giggle out of the other girls. she would yell in excitement whenever anyone made a particularly good serve, set, or dig, and would scream at the top of her lungs at the slightest inconvenience.

gaeul loved it, maybe more than she should've.

but as loud as ahn yujin was, her feelings were louder, and it didn't take a genius to realize that she was infatuated with jang wonyoung.

gaeul wanted to hate her, but she could never hate the girl.

gaeul could only hate herself.

being roommates with yujin was both a curse and a blessing.

yujin was loud, and all gaeul had ever known prior was quiet.

she grew up in a family where success was a priority, where both of her parents were financial analysts for a huge company, away on business trips for months on end, and her older brother locked himself in his room to study all day.

it was terrifying, most days.

gaeul had no one to run to. the young kim was left to her thoughts, letting them spiral out of control until she couldn't think of anything else.

but soon, familiarity turned the silence into a blessing, and the kim house was no longer a jail cell. it filled with an ambiance that seemed to embrace gaeul in her times of need.

but ahn yujin was loud (and gaeul didn't know if she loved it or hated it in that moment).

"unnie."

gaeul bit back a smile, listening to the younger girl sigh as she read through the notes of her anatomy class.

gaeul realized that yujin was harder to ignore than she thought.

"hello?" yujin waved her hand in front of the older girl's face. "can you stop studying and pay attention to me?"

the dancer shook her head. she already knew what this was going to be about.

"yes, yujin?"

gaeul turned to face yujin, holding up two pieces of clothing, one a blue cardigan and the other a green sweater.

"do you think wonyoung likes green or blue?"

wonyoung was a topic that yujin seemed to love. every conversation the two had seemed to revolve around wonyoung or volleyball, maybe even both. gaeul knew what she was getting into the moment she found out the younger girl was her roommate, but hearing it regularly didn't make it hurt any less.

thank god it was just a silly little crush.

gaeul thought for a moment, a finger tapping the side of her cheek. she looked at yujin, eyes wide and anticipating.

even her eyes were loud, full of emotion, and swirling with excitement.

"i think she likes her girlfriend." gaeul teased, raising an eyebrow.

"unnie." yujin whined, huffing as she lowered her arms. "just answer the question."

gaeul rolled her eyes, looking in between the two.

the dark green sweater wasn't something yujin wore often. in fact, it was the first time gaeul had seen it. it was harsh, like the weeds seeping through the cracks of a sidewalk.

gaeul glanced at the light blue cardigan before glancing back at yujin. the younger girl always looked good in blue, and gaeul always thought she looked the prettiest in soft colors. she liked the way yujin's smile stood out more.

"blue." gaeul hummed. "it reminds her of y/n."

"okay." yujin threw the cardigan on her bed and removed the sweater from the hanger. "green it is."

she turned around as yujin got dressed, humming a love song as gaeul went over the lecture notes she had earlier that day.

it had been a tough week for the older girl. being a second-year dance major made her realize that sitting through a three-hour dance composition lab and a two-hour anatomy lecture with two hours of sleep was something she had to deal with from now on. luckily, today was the weekend, but even if she wanted to sleep, yujin had asked her earlier that week if she they could to get dinner whenever gaeul was free.

she couldn't say no if she tried.

gaeul looked over at yujin, watching as she buttoned up her shirt.

"i thought we were hanging out today." gaeul asked, trying not to sound too hurt.

yujin looked over, brushing her hair as she shrugged. "you said you were busy."

gaeul knew she just wanted an excuse to hang out with wonyoung by herself.

"i said i needed to study first." gaeul frowned, turning back to face her paper.

"yeah." the younger girl's perfume engulfed the entire room as she sprayed her wrists. "busy."

gaeul wondered if yujin would've done the same thing if she was anything remotely similar to wonyoung.

gaeul shook her head, too tired to argue with yujin. she just wanted to close her eyes and listen to the silence around her, lulling her to sleep like she was ten years old again (even though she would've preferred yujin's loud singing to keep her awake).

the door slammed open, and gaeul looked over at yujin with questioning eyes.

"that door is supposed to be locked."

yujin smiled, and gaeul forgave her almost instantly.

"hey, unnies!" wonyoung burst through, dressed comfortably in jeans and her suma sweater.

"hey, wonyoung." gaeul smiled at the taller girl. she never understood how wonyoung could look so put together so effortlessly.

beside her, yujin dusted herself off. "hi."

wonyoung looked between the two, her eyes settling on a half-awake gaeul whose hair was pushed back with a headband.

"is gaeul-unnie not coming with us?"

yujin looked at her, begging her to say no.

gaeul glanced at wonyoung. she wanted to go with them, with yujin. she wanted to get the girl who held doors open for her, and who bought her snacks because it reminded her of gaeul. she wanted to be the girl yujin talked about, but that wasn't her.

she wasn't jang wonyoung. she wasn't talented, she wasn't pretty. she was just kim gaeul, and maybe that would've been enough for someone else, but gaeul didn't like someone else.

gaeul liked yujin (and gaeul could never say no to yujin).

"no." she could feel her breaking her heart in two. "i'm busy. sorry, wonnie."

"oh." wonyoung pouted, genuinely upset. she wanted to hang out with both of them, and gaeul knew that wonyoung was too kind to forget the older girl. "i'll get you food, okay?"

"you don't have to." yujin argued, looking at her roommate. "she has money."

"she needs to eat too." wonyoung pointed out, before grinning softly (gaeul wondered if she looked like that when she thought of yujin). "plus, i promised y/nnie that i was gonna get her bread."

sighing, yujin nodded in defeat. there wasn't much that she could do against l/n y/n when it came to wonyoung.

the two put their shoes on, and all gaeul could do was listen as she tried her hardest not to cry from frustration.

(she didn't understand why the gastrocnemius and the soleus were this important to dance.)

"you two have fun." gaeul cleared her throat, trying not to let it waver. "don't spend too much money."

she could hear the hesitation in the air, and she wondered if yujin had saw through her at that moment. she wondered if somehow she had garnered a chance.

(wonyoung looked at her figure with worried eyes, and all yujin could do was look at wonyoung.)

yujin cleared her throat. "we'll see you later, unnie!"

gaeul nodded, listening to the door click closed.

it was just a silly little crush.

it didn't matter whether she looked for signs of yujin everywhere. she didn't care that she turned her head whenever she smelt her perfume in class. it didn't bother her that she would always think of yujin's coffee order before hers.

it was a crush, and there was no chance it would have been reciprocated.

kim gaeul wasn't jang wonyoung.

gaeul wondered what it was like to really excel at something.

by no means was gaeul average. she had made it into Seoul's University of Multi-Arts, one of the sought out SKYS universities. she was smart, averaging a 3.7 unweighted gpa. she was talented, enough to warrant a spot on the top university volleyball team of the nation.

but even though she wasn't average, she was just gaeul.

gaeul who was another face on the team. gaeul who was just another dance major. gaeul who was nothing special.

the dorm room door opened with a swing, and the tall, opposite hitter appeared, loud and boisterous as ever.

"unnie," yujin exclaimed, the door clicking closes behind her as she showed off a bouquet of pink roses. "do you think wonyoung would like this?"

gaeul loved pink, just like yujin loved jang wonyoung.

"you shouldn't give flowers to a girl that's taken, yujin."

it hurt. so deeply.

yujin sighed, "wonyoung's sad, though."

gaeul was sad too.

she was tired from bouncing back from the studio to the court every day. she was upset that her parents had missed her birthday to work extra hours at their stupid corporate jobs.

she was sad, because she wanted to hate jang wonyoung, but no matter what she did, the girl would always be like a little sister.

she could never blame wonyoung for being wonyoung, gaeul could only blame herself.

"she's sad and taken." gaeul smiled softly, covering up the pain with a grin. "you're gonna start a fight between her and y/n."

"i know..."

yujin plopped down on her bed, still gripping onto the bouquet.

gaeul looked at the young girl, listening to her huff as she turned to look at the dancer.

yujin had a good heart, perhaps a little too soft for her own benefit (and gaeul loved it, just like she liked, loved, yujin).

the older girl looked at her, eyebrows furrowed as yujin sat quietly at the foot of her bed.

"do you want to start a fight between her and y/n?"

"no!" yujin shook her head almost immediately. gaeul couldn't help but smile. yujin always had a soft spot for her old schoolmates. "y/nnie's cool. she's good for wonyoung."

yujin was quiet, and that was all gaeul needed to know.

she sat up, sitting beside the taller girl wordlessly. she could hear the chatter of the students and the chirping of the birds from outside. she hoped that the silence would envelop yujin, she hoped it would comfort her.

so gaeul waited.

"i just wish i met wonyoung first."

gaeul smiled.

i wish i had met you first, too.

"i know." the setter whispered, the silence deafening her ears. she looked over to yujin, the sun illuminating the girl brightly. "but you didn't, and there's nothing you can do."

yujin looked at her, and gaeul swore saw something.

but yujin wouldn't look at her like that. she wasn't wonyoung.

"i know." the younger girl's hand twitched, her eyes trained on gaeul's slightly calloused hands.

"i'm not letting you beat yourself up over this." the older girl sighed. she stood up, her eyes trained on yujin. "let's get food. what are you craving?"

and almost instantly, gaeul's loud, boisterous ahn yujin came back.

"my parents just came back from thailand!" yujin exclaimed, a slight blush on her face. "so thai food?"

"okay." gaeul nodded, ignoring the loud beating of her heart. "i'll drive this time."

yujin looked at her, and gaeul wondered if yujin wished she was wonyoung at that very moment.

gaeul wondered how well the team would take it if she decided to transfer schools.

she turned her body, facing the door as she listened to the wind blowing through her undrawn curtains.

suma had already been short players before ryujin and alex had left, and yeji was clearly at her breaking point, losing her setter in the mix. jimin had been in a funk since catching yeji, and coach bam was dragging the younger girls through hell and back, giving them little leeway for mistakes. gaeul wasn't even sure they were going to win this year, and she didn't need her parents breathing down her neck because of another loss.

(plus, yonsei had a great dance program that gaeul had eyed before choosing suma.)

yujin burst into the room, nearly out of breath. gaeul shot up, wondering why the younger girl was causing such a commotion.

the door creaked closed, and gaeul waited for the younger girl to speak.

yujin sat down at the foot of gaeul's bed, her head hung low as gaeul scooted closer to her. the older girl stayed quiet, letting yujin catch her breath and sort through her thoughts.

yujin's voice broke through the silence in a whisper.

"wonyoung broke up with y/n."

gaeul looked at yujin.

"what?"

wonyoung was y/n's and y/n was wonyoung's. although gaeul never had a good example of love, she didn't need to to know that they were meant for each other. she would've never thought that they would break up so abruptly.

the older girl looked at yujin, quiet and calm.

"yujin?" gaeul whispered. "are you okay?"

yujin spoke gently, and it sounded almost foreign to gaeul. "i didn't think wonyoung would be this sad."

gaeul sighed. "she loves her, yujin."

the younger girl stayed silent.

"i guess so." she muttered, playing with the side of her thumb. "i just don't understand how she loves her so much."

"yujin..." gaeul shook her head in disbelief.

sometimes, she forgot that yujin had never been in love or even thought of love. the younger girl was just a meathead who liked volleyball and pretty things.

yujin looked up, confused. "did i say something wrong?"

"no." gaeul sighed, the younger girl's eyes shining with guilt. "i just want you to understand why wonyoung is sad, and your pea brain isn't gonna take an explanation from anyone else."

"unnie!"

gaeul rolled her eyes playfully before letting the silence take its course.

"wonyoung loves y/n." yujin stared at gaeul, trying to take in everything the older girl was saying. "that's her y/n."

"but she could be anyone's y/n."

and you could be anyone's yujin.

"not to wonyoung." yujin looked more confused than before, and gaeul couldn't help but ask. "have you ever been in love, yujin?"

"no." yujin shook her head. "have you?"

gaeul stared at yujin.

"yeah." it was weird admitting it out loud. "i think so."

yujin stared back at her, her eyes shimmering against the bright light of the sun.

"what's it like?"

the older girl smiled, trying to push back the blush that was rising into her cheeks. "you know i'm not good with words."

yujin held her gaze, and gaeul knew that she couldn't say no.

gaeul nodded, yujin keeping her full attention on the girl in front of her.

"i guess..." she took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts, and trying to think of anything aside from the girl in front of her. "being in love with someone is like having your own person with you all the time."

gaeul looked down, playing with her hands as yujin's eyes bore into the crown of her head.

"you always have a piece of them everywhere." gaeul could feel the hot rays on her back. "maybe it's a cardigan at some store that reminds you of them, or the coffee order that you always check the price of. maybe it's the food at some random corner on the street."

gaeul just wanted yujin.

"maybe it's everything but nothing."

gaeul looked up, finding yujin's eyes glazed over with an emotion that gaeul had never seen before. the older girl wondered if she had just confused her more.

"yujin?"

almost instantly, yujin snapped back to reality.

"why?" yujin cleared her throat, unable to meet gaeul's eyes. "why would wonyoung break up with y/n if y/n was her person?"

gaeul traced the faint bruises on her forearm.

"maybe because she didn't feel like a person."

for a moment, everything was quiet, and yujin couldn't help but watch the sun shine against her roommate's figure.

"that explanation is making me sadder." yujin sighed, her eyes never leaving gaeul.

the older girl looked up, smiling softly at yujin as their eyes met. "i told you i wasn't good with words..."

the room settled in a stillness, and gaeul could hear the hum of the lights, and the blood rushing through her veins.

she wondered if yujin liked the quiet.

suddenly, yujin shot up, almost robotically as she grabbed a random blue hoodie from her coat rack. her face was a firey red as she muttered nonsense under her breath.

"i need-" yujin cleared her throat, avoiding the older's gaze. "i'm gonna go find wonyoung."

gaeul couldn't compare, no matter how hard she could've tried.

"okay."

the door slammed closed, and everything came crashing down.

gaeul didn't mean to avoid yujin.

though the younger girl had been suspiciously insistent on hanging out with her these past two weeks, gaeul had been swamped with schoolwork and volleyball and hadn't been in their dorm for longer than six hours (which was mostly her sleeping).

most of the time she saw yujin was in practice, and they could never find the time to hang out after, considering yeji had made it her mission to recruit gaeul as her new setter instead of shin ryujin.

but gaeul had messed up again, setting slightly too high for yeji's liking.

yeji landed lightly, grabbing the ball as she chucked it full force toward gaeul's stomach. the setter winced, her finger getting jammed as she caught it.

"what the fuck is wrong with you?" the captain yelled, gaeul keeping her head down.

"sorry, sunbaenim." gaeul felt small, and she just wished everything would stop being so loud. "i'm not feeling well."

"i don't care if you're feeling well or not." yeji spit out, jabbing her finger on gaeul's temple. "you're my setter... mine. stop thinking about yujin and play properly."

gaeul looked up, eyes wide and distraught.

"i wasn't thinking-"

"leave gaeul alone, yeji." jimin interrupted.

gaeul hadn't heard jimin speak since the party.

"look at you finally talking again." yeji smirked, and jimin tried her best to stand her ground. the captain smiled at her proudly. "for a second, i thought i broke you."

she turned to gaeul, the younger girl's eyes avoiding her own. "yujin doesn't think about you. she doesn't care about you. you understand that right?"

she knew that. gaeul didn't need to be reminded of that.

gaeul nodded. "yes, sunbaenim."

yeji glanced at jimin, giving her a smile before turning her attention back to gaeul. the older girl leaned in, her lips dangerously close to gaeul's ear.

"yujin doesn't care about you like her." gaeul's eyes widened once more. how did yeji know about yujin's crush on wonyoung? "i know you already know that. you're a smart girl, so stop thinking you have a chance and focus on what's important, okay?"

"yeji." jimin pushed yeji away from gaeul, the captain glaring at the dark-haired girl.

rolling her eyes, yeji watched as gaeul sulked in silence. "answer me."

"yes, sunbaenim."

"get your head out of your ass and set properly." yeji mutter, grabbing the ball from gaeul. "i won't ask again."

"yes, sunbaenim." gaeul bowed. "sorry."

yeji looked at her for a moment, the entire court filling with a tense silence.

"good."

there was a glint sparkling in her eye, something that jimin had already been familiar with. gaeul couldn't help but blush at the sight of it.

the captain walked away, getting a drink of water and leaving the two girls alone.

"gaeul." jimin muttered, her eyebrows furrowing. she watched as yeji eyed gaeul once more. "don't fall for it."

"what?"

jimin looked at her almost desperately. "please. just don't fall for it."

gaeul looked at her curiously before yeji called her over. she didn't understand what jimin meant, but gaeul wouldn't know until it was too late.

yujin missed gaeul.

she missed the frustrated sighs that came from her side of the room, and that stupid nike headband that the girl always seemed to wear when studying. she missed waking up to the window wide open as the shorter girl shivered in her bed, and she missed the stack of books that engulfed gaeul's desk.

she hadn't spoken to her all week. whenever yujin would wake up, gaeul's already-made bed would be empty, and her school bag would be gone. by the time the day ended, gaeul either had practice with the team or with yeji.

(personally, yujin thought yeji had been a little too close to gaeul.)

their dorm was silent without gaeul, and not the silent that yujin learned to love.

"unnie!" the taller girl rushed to the setter, nearly tripping over her own shoes with excitement. "wanna go get food?"

yujin looked at her with anticipation, her heart beating out of her chest as she waited for a response.

"i can't." gaeul sighed, watching as yujin deflated. "yeji-sunbaenim needs me to train with her."

"that's the fifth time this week." she just wanted gaeul to herself. "can't you just ditch her?"

"i can't." gaeul looked at yujin, and yujin could feel her face suddenly erupt into a blush. "we're already down people."

"it's her fault that ryujin-unnie and alex-unnie left." the girl muttered. "we were already short people because of coach bam, but now there's only eight of us."

"it's fine." gaeul shrugged, re-taping her jammed ring finger. "at least i'm getting minutes."

"i guess so..." yujin nodded, watching as gaeul quietly hummed. she knew gaeul wouldn't do anything stupid, but every time yeji looked at the older girl, she couldn't help but get a sinking feeling. "i can stop by and watch."

"it's okay, yujin." gaeul could only imagine how angry yeji would be throughout the whole practice. "i don't think yeji-sunbaenim would like that."

yujin didn't like yeji. she was hot-headed, and blamed everyone but herself. she wasn't a good captain, especially to the younger girls, and everything always seemed to revolve around her.

but yujin especially didn't like how fond of gaeul she suddenly became.

"why?" the younger girl bit the side of her cheek. "does she... does she like you?"

gaeul shook her head. "that's not why."

"are you sure?" yujin had heard stories from ryujin, about how yeji could make anyone hers, so long as she had enough interest. "i can sit in and double-check for you."

"it's okay." gaeul had never seen yujin this panicked, and she wanted to do everything she could to calm her down (without angering yeji in the process, of course). "wonyoung's coming over later, right?"

"yeah." yujin relaxed for a moment, and it took everything in gaeul not to break into pieces. "but, she doesn't have to! i can reschedule and go with you instead."

gaeul blushed, wishing that yujin meant it in more of a romantic way than a friendly way.

"you're sweet." sighing, she shook her head. "i'll be okay though."

yujin just wanted to be with gaeul.

"but-"

"kim gaeul!" yeji's voice boomed from outside the changing room. "you better hurry the fuck up."

"yes, sunbaenim." gaeul replied, standing up as she squeezed the taller girl's forearm. "i'll see you later, yujinnie."

gaeul walked out, missing the lovestruck look that was etched across yujin's face.

"yujinnie?" the younger girl smiled, covering her mouth as she blushed.

she was so gonna tell wonyoung later.

gaeul wondered if something had changed.

aside from yujin's odd behavior (which gaeul found endearing), gaeul found herself less and less tired from yeji's one-on-one practices. she didn't know whether it was the fact that yeji had decided to stop yelling at her, but it felt nice going to bed with some energy left.

but something was wrong. gaeul could feel it in her stomach.

the two changed quietly in the change room, and the clock ticked, filling the void. it was only eight pm. if gaeul went home now and finished studying, she could finally have a proper conversation with yujin before she passed out. it had been nearly three days since they last spoke.

the setter quickly packed her stuff, only stopping as she felt a presence near her.

"gaeul." yeji hummed. gaeul turned around to face her senior. "i've been thinking about something."

yeji's tone carried a softness that gaeul didn't know the girl was capable of. carefully, yeji sat down next to her, waiting for gaeul to do the same.

gaeul followed, looking at her with anticipating eyes.

"i need my setter." yeji placed a hand dangerously high on her thigh. "i need you. do you understand?"

no one had ever wanted gaeul before.

she was the girl who was always given numbers to give to her friends. gaeul was the friend who gave relationship advice without experience. no guy or girl had ever bothered to look her way. but now, her captain was here, and despite everything, gaeul had never felt more needed.

"gaeul?" yeji whispered.

gaeul swallowed. "yes, sunbaenim?"

the older girl leaned in, her face suddenly millimeters away from gaeul's. "has anyone told you how pretty you are?"

gaeul had never been called pretty before.

"i need you to focus on me, okay? forget about yujin." gaeul felt a cold hand playing with the hem of her shirt. "let me help you."

yeji kissed her softly, her hand making its way under gaeul's shirt. she tasted like mint-flavored smoke and smelled like a long day outside. it felt suffocating, wrong almost, and gaeul couldn't help but wonder if kisses were supposed to feel like this.

"sunbaenim," gaeul pulled away as yeji started attacking her neck. "i don't think-"

the older girl looked up, feeling yeji's hands on her waistband. "let me help you."

it was all wrong, but gaeul just wanted to be needed by someone, even if it wasn't yujin.

"okay."

gaeul came home around two am.

she ignored all the worried texts and calls from yujin by yeji's orders, and went home feeling like a shell of herself. she knew what happened wasn't right, and seeing yujin's and wonyoung's faces as she entered their dorm room was enough to solidify it.

she didn't miss the looks that they gave her as she entered her bed, not even bothering to change (but she missed the look that wonyoung had given yujin as the opposite hitter held back tears).

yujin tried to talk to gaeul the next day, to try and understand why she had slept with yeji. but gaeul didn't want to tell her that she just needed to about everything; about how she wasn't pretty enough, about how she would never be anything like wonyoung.

gaeul had slept with jeon somi that night, and with some random girl from yonsei the day after.

"gaeul-unnie."

"wonyoung." gaeul smiled, trying her best to shake off yeji's gaze on her. she didn't need a reminder of why she was spiralling right now. "what's wrong?"

"i can't get my form right." wonyoung massaged the volleyball nervously, ignoring the glare yujin was sending her. "can you help me?"

yujin rolled her eyes. "your form looked fine to me."

"yujin." gaeul sighed before nodding at wonyoung. "yeah, i'll help you."

"i can't hit anything." wonyoung pouted, glancing at a fumming yujin. "i feel like my form's right but i just need someone to double-check."

gaeul stood up, ushering wonyoung with a hand on the middle of the taller girl's back. "can i see it?"

yujin bit her tongue.

"sure." gaeul smiled, and yujin wanted nothing more than for her to smile at her. "haewon, can you-"

"haewon's resting." yujin interrupted, before she stood up. "i'll do it."

haewon looked at her. "i'm not-"

"you are." yujin insisted before turning back to gaeul with a grin. "what do you need help with?"

"i just need you to try and set this."

gaeul gave her the ball, her eyes looking expectantly at yujin. the taller girl gladly took it.

"okay."

wonyoung took a step back, waiting for yujin. though she wasn't a setter, she had known wonyoung well enough to know where the middle blocker would've wanted it. still, wonyoung had swung slightly too early.

yujin stared at her.

"that was a shit spike."

gaeul rolled her eyes. "yujin."

"i'm already your opposite." yujin whined. "why do you need to train her?"

gaeul sighed, shaking her head. "because we only have one person as opposite, and the only other person available is jimin-sunbaenim who's training to be an outside."

"can't you just ask to chaeryeong-unnie?" yujin said, exasperated. she didn't understand why anything was the way it was.

why couldn't gaeul just like her back?

gaeul took a deep breath. she didn't want to argue with yujin. "you go ahead."

yujin nodded before hesitating. she didn't want to leave gaeul alone with a girl, and even though she trusted wonyoung, she had never felt such an ugly feeling before.

(yujin had asked if it was normal, and wonyoung had burst into tears thinking about y/n and her new girlfriend.)

gaeul watched as yujin left, stealing glances at wonyoung. the setter should've known that yeji was right. she'd always be second to the taller girl.

she turned to wonyoung, grabbing a motionless ball on the ground.

"you're swinging too early." gaeul explained, watching as yeji stretched from a distance. "do you want me to delay it a little?"

"you like yujin-unnie, don't you, unnie?"

gaeul could feel her cheeks heat up. wonyoung wasn't supposed to know, but there was no point denying it now.

"what does that have to do with spiking?" she muttered.

"i know how to spike." wonyoung caught a glimpse of yujin, who had been talking to chaeryeong as she stole glances at the two. "yeji-sunbaenim said you were in love with her in the change room. i don't know if yujin-unnie knows, but-"

gaeul shook her head. "this isn't important."

"unnie." wonyoung didn't want another relationship to be ruined because of her. "i understand. i just don't want yujin-unnie to find out that way."

"she won't find out."

"you're not gonna tell her?" wonyoung questioned. "i'm sure she feels the same w-"

"she doesn't." gaeul said sternly. she didn't even know why wonyoung had brought it up in the first place. "i know she doesn't."

wonyoung stared at her, wishing that the older girl would just listen to her for a moment.

"don't you think you guys have been talking for too long?"

gaeul turned around, coming face to face with the taller girl. "yujin."

"it's okay." wonyoung gave a reassuring smile. she knew how horrible yujin had felt these past few days (she had to talk her out of getting gaeul's attention 'the yeji way'). "yeji-sunbaenim starting to get mad and i don't want her to yell at me for distracting her setter."

"she won't yell at you." gaeul looked over at yujin who was glaring at yeji.

wonyoung gave her a look. if there was anyone in the room who understood what she was going through at that very moment, it was jang wonyoung.

sighing, gaeul nodded before wonyoung engulfed her in a hug. the older girl couldn't help but let out a much-needed laugh. wonyoung was too sweet to hate.

yujin couldn't help but shift her focus toward the two.

"thanks, wonyoung." gaeul pulled away and squeezed her arm.

the middle blocker nodded and walked away, sparing a glare at jimin as she took a seat next to haewon.

yujin watched as gaeul shook her head, gripping the ball before turning to the net. the fluorescent lights shined against her face, and the built-in fans hummed from above.

yujin swallowed. "what was that?"

gaeul smiled, and it was like everything had gone quiet.

"nothing."

kim gaeul was beautiful.

masterlist | next

taglist (CLOSED)!!

@serenitygrace24 @moontealemonpie @writingficsblog @kittyeij @cutieseo @limbforalimb @ahnneyong @yumtooki @lcv3lies @sserajeans @jiwoneiric @babycubchae @trsrina @xyxlyn @misumiausworld @slowlyturninggay291 @awkwardtoafault @captivq @ddeonutz @noiacha @sserabey @d7dream @slowlyturninggay291 @lvwr @perfectsunlight @forever-in-the-sky2 @juhyunsthirdwife @uzumakioden @txtbrainrot @rosiehrs @yunjinhart @skisk1 @bzeus28 @deeznutzryu @jisooftme @danistolemyheart @li0ilthecxnt @eggomi @ddoxhan @zhivaxo @sweet-dhrafts @livelaughloveyujin @luveuly @marimo-anura @yunnybunnyy @ivy-aurora @wonyoluvr

#jang wonyoung x reader #ive x reader #iz*one x reader #izone x reader #aespa x reader #kpop x reader #idol x reader #silantryo

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bts5sosempire · 1 year

Text

the tyrant (vi); side two

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sukuna ryomen x reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3,443

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: old time period, mention of arranged marriage, polygamous marriages, slow-burn yandere, power imbalances, peer pressure, anxiety attack (beginning, it's mc), superstition involved, etc.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: "you were the apple of Sukuna’s eyes, the one who brought him solace and everything. The only thing you were incapable of was giving him a child, an heir he wished to spoil like he did to you."

𝐚/𝐧: so I finally churn and did the other half, I didn't proof read this btw. For now letting y'all simmer in this one. Pls like, comment down below for tagging, and reblogged if you like! Thank you for your patience lovelies! 💖✨️

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Your heart was hammering that it resounded loudly in your ears, and you could feel your blood rushing through every part of your body and veins. You were scared. Sukuna quickly departed after the revelation and reveled in your horrid expression; he had made it clear what his intentions with you were; this time, it wasn't just a fleeting dream you could avoid. It's a reality now. You quickly dismiss everyone to go on break, much to their appreciation, and then throw yourself into an abandoned room where no soul is around.

Once inside the room, your legs give out just in time as you drop onto the floor while screwing your eyes shut tightly when your body goes through rapid temperature changes. Your anxiety keeps spiking up as you struggle to breathe correctly; one of your clammy hands grips the collar of your kimono in pain while the other is blindingly holding the door shut. To prevent anyone from coming in and seeing you like this.

You waited until your anxiety went down and your throat was not encasing itself like a boa. The inside of your mouth tasted dry like chalk, yet it was slimy. Even your body glides in light sweat when you can feel them forming on your forehead too. It feels pretty hot now despite the cold air inside the room. The fabulous cape on your shoulders reminds you of Sukuna's presence, and you tear it off and throw it as far as you can in a fit of weak anger. The sudden anxiety attack left you tired when you tried to move further inside the room but couldn't and just hopelessly lay still against the door.

Your stomach gnaws in discomfort, and the sourness pools inside. You tried to steer your mind away from Sukuna, and it's hard. The problem seems to arise after another when you think you have taken yourself out of it. Your mind reels that there's nowhere to hide anymore; this is too much for you to bear at the given moment.

Cursing at yourself, tears pools around your eyes, and your vision blurs for a second. Wiping them away before they can fall only enables the dam to be broken; once one falls, all starts to cascade down your face. The quiet sniffles and hiccuping down your voice echo around the vacant room quietly; you cry over many things, but the fear of losing your individuality and becoming Sukuna's scares you the most. You don't want to submit to someone like him.

Your bracelet was the only thing that gave you peace and comfort, knowing that you still had complete control over your anatomy. Your rights to your life, but he had to take that away from you, didn't he? Using your sleeves to wipe out the tears, you fiddle with the bangle and see it is polished when turning it around on your wrist. You unclasped the lock and saw the small door on the inside was sealed shut. If Sukuna thoroughly modifies your bangle, then the residue of basil should be gone too.

Without much thought, you gradually pick up your bearing and act normal again, like you didn't experience any turmoil. Once you go back out there, you have to face everything again. You're sure that mouths were already flapping around with rumors and stories of the stunt Sukuna had pulled prior. Looking at the forgotten cloak that pools on the floor, disgust fills your red-rimmed eyes. There was a heavy sigh from your lips; you pondered whether you should leave it there to be found by someone else or pick it up and hand it to someone to give it back.

If you were to wear it again, you would have to meet him and return it in person. You don't want to see him; the fear of him subsides only a little bit, and it is slowly replaced with bitterness. Graciously picking it up, you decided to find the nearest available servant. "You two there," You call out when opening the door. Your presence startled two maids that jumped up in fright, and they quickly bowed before sticking close together. "Take this to Lord Sukuna," handing the cloak over to them; they took it from your hands gently despite being hesitant to do so while trembling at the mention of his name since everyone was afraid of Sukuna.

When you're out of sight, two young maids do what they are told when walking out of the long corridor. One suddenly said, "Did you see Lady (Name) eyes? I think she was crying." It piqued her friend's interest, but they shook their head. "I didn't see it; I'm too nervous to look at her."

"I guess it was confirmed earlier when Lord Sukuna came by to visit Lady (Name); nobody was close enough to hear what they were saying, but as soon as his Lord left..." The first maid was continuing to whisper to her friend until a figured pop around the corner.

It was Uraume, and both shut up instantly and properly greeted Sukuna's retainer. Uraume barely acknowledges their existence and walks on to help you with decorations. It was until they spoke loudly for only those two to hear, "It would be in your best interest to be careful about what you utter around. Every day, heads roll around in the execution yard."

That was enough for them to walk away faster.

Sukuna stares at a 3d map in front of him; it shows the whole region of Japan, but he's more concerned about the mountains. Up in the hills were the Heiyan people, native to the harsh nature there. For as long as Sukuna knows, they have been a thorn in his side. They are nothing but vicious in his eyes, deluding themselves from the path of advancing modern technology. The Heiyan are known to be strict with their traditional values; they rarely derive from their beliefs, as they don't even mix their blood with other people, only their own.

Sukuna wanted rare ores from there, but they made it difficult for him to gather as they had pushed him away. He knows that marriage is always a topic when dealing with anything political. The chieftain of the Heiyan, Cheif Mozuru, was a stubborn man. The only way to access the land was to marry one of his four daughters, but Sukuna was also a mule, perverse in his thought that they weren't worthy of him.

The War Demon has taste, but he wouldn't lower himself to be with them as they expect him to change too. They also wish for him to convert to their beliefs, and much to Sukuna's dismay, he rejects the notion on the spot. Now they are at war with each other.

But there was exciting news that was brought to him the other day by a spy who he had happened to bribe. The spy was no further than an agent from a neighboring rival, Totsuwa Iriyu. The man was marrying the second eldest daughter to secure a treaty. News of Sukuna trying to get access to the land was probably the main reason why Totsuwa decided to strike. Totsuwa was often an overzealous man, having been trying to pine down Sukuna's title for the longest as he knew. And for another reason.

Sukuna was the reason why Totsuwa's father died in the first place—he framed the poor senile man for converting power secretly and trying to raise a coup d'etat against the former Emperor.

"You should be thankful that your father had passed away peacefully." Sukuna chuckled lowly into Totsuwa's ear with the intent of throwing salt to the wound. The blood of Totsuwa's father drips down the Sukuna's face onto Totsuwa's garb. The son could only watch with eyes wide with shock and terror as his father's corpse, hollow vacant eyes with their mouth wide loose, reflected in his eyes. The blood that seeps from the open slash across the torso dyed the tatami mat red.

Sukuna then patted the latter shoulder a few times and stood up from his one-kneeling position and out the door. The blade shines brightly from the moonlight despite it being coated in droplets of red.

With the death of Totsuwa's father, Sukuna was granted more of the Emperor's grace for taking such a jaded person out, making him unstoppable. If it was known, the Totsuwa household name fell from grace as they were no longer invited to be a part of the Emperor's insiders. Soon, more fell off their seat, and only a few remained behind. The Gojo, Geto, Zen'in, and a newly formed clan, the Fushiguro.

To add more history, Sukuna was the one who put Emperor Hoshu up on that seat by assassinating their younger half-brother, Hoshen, during a power struggle.

Sukuna then gazes to the side of the table where his cloak lays. Two hesitant maids returned it, saying you ordered them to return it to him. What Sukuna had done may have spooked you. Returning his items is like returning his undesirable affection, as always; this is nothing new to him. He already got a grasp on you; all he needs to do is tighten it and let you submit yourself into his palm and accept his pampering.

"Doctor," Sukuna spoke up suddenly, and the physician almost toppled their pills to the side with fright. "How long would it take Lady (Name) to conceive?"

"Depends; in the meantime, she shouldn't consume anything such as medicine and concoctions for at least a week. Feeding her anything may disrupt the blood flow and cause a clot in her system, as her body needs to be recovered naturally." They nervously explained to Sukuna, who was considering their words.

Sukuna: "If she can't consume anything now, is there a way to speed up the process?"

The doctor ponders momentarily, "There might be a way, but it's a slippery slope." They look around the room and then pause to stare at the door for long seconds, then cup their mouth to whisper at Sukuna. "There is this rumored famous witch doctor among the locals, especially for the ladies, that they can cure any afflictions."

"Surely you're not jesting me? I'm a man who believes in advanced warfare and science, not superstitions." Sukuna gives the man a dubious gaze that tests the physician, "What (Name) suffered from is internally inside her body, not spiritually."

The doctor rapidly waves their hands, "You're mistaken, My Lord! It's also not about spirituality; they can also cure the body and let it return to its natural state physically. What you say about Lady (Name) is accurate; if you wish to remove the coldness that makes her unviable, I suggest you visit them!"

Sukuna pinch the bridge of his nose; he regrets even asking and should wait for your time limit to be up. "You do understand that you sound like a cuckoo, right?"

"This is ridiculous," Sukuna muttered under his breath. His red steed snorts and clomps its hooves against the pebble ground to agree with their master. In front of him two days later, he decided to visit the shaman's house ground. He had left the estate in secret, not without informing Uraume to keep an eye on you, and traveled a few hours out of his domain by horse to throttle up a pathway to a steep mountain.

There were no signs of life when he arrived, so much for being a famous shaman. Climbing off his horse, he ties the reins against a tree stump. Sukuna went further inside the location, his piercing red eyes scraping any signs if anyone was residing in this place.

The only thing that was presentable in front of him was a red door, and inside were countless candles lit. Sukuna heads inside with slow, studious steps that not even a trained ear can hear him. Hand at the hilt of the sword that was strapped by his side.

The further he walks in, it reminds him of the time he was targeted or willfully let himself be away by an enemy into the danger zone. Sukuna could feel a presence coming close to him, and the hand that held the hilt tightened.

With a quick draw from the scabbard, a ting resounds in the air through the available space of the building. Sukuna turned around with precision and let a full swing as his blade rested neatly against the stranger's neck; just a few more centimeters and their head would be swiped clean off and hit the ground. "Who are you?" Sukuna demanded, his red orbs locking onto the person, not phased by his overbearing attitude.

"Is this how a guest greets the owner of this place?" The person scoffs. They raise a finger and push the sharp edge away from their neck. "Although you're not the first nor likely be the last to do so." The shaman had had multiple occurrences of almost getting their heads chopped off due to virtually having little to no presence. "I'm quite impressed that you could detect me, Lord Sukuna. " They ask, "What special occasion has brought you here to my humble adobe?" Their tone changes to sweet and sultry in an instant.

"I've heard you are a good witch doctor from an acquaintance of mine," Sukuna starts, and the shaman only hums before guiding Sukuna to follow and sit on a pillow across from them.

"Who exactly did you get it from?" Sukuna gives the doctor's name, and they roll their eyes sarcastically, "I see it's that moron." Getting comfortable with themselves, they propped an arm up the table and lay sideways with their hips and curve showing. They give off an androgynous physique. "If they led you this far to me, I guess I could help. What is the problem?"

"It's about my wife," Sukuna curtly replies.

"Ah, that fair maiden?" They gave a knowing look, and Sukuna knew the shaman thought of you. Sukuna didn't miss how the unhidden admiration of mirth in their eyes was so bright it could be a night sky. He is slightly agitated by that acknowledgment. "Lady (Name) is quite a character, I looked up their star chart, and it was filled with many things. She has quite a life, I should say."

"I came here for help, not to idle." Sukuna's voice got gruff, and the shaman cleared their throat and recomposed. "Recently, I have learned that she doesn't have fertility issues but was caused by something else, and before you run your mouth, it's not anything relating to your superstitions ideology. She causes it herself semi-permanently."

"And the cause is?" They inquire with a raised brow.

"Basil. Basil seeds, she doesn't consume them, but wears them." That's all that the shaman needs to know where it's heading. It's uncommon to stumble upon women making them sterile to prevent unwanted pregnancy. The shaman had come across a crisis like this a few years ago prior.

"You wanted me to remove the cold affliction in her body?" There was a slight smile from them, but it was daunting. "I could, but there is a heavy price to pay."

Sukuna: "How much do you need?"

Shaman: "It is not gold being used for this transaction; what do you think the womb that creates life is equivalent to?"

[At the same time.]

It was quiet at the manor, with a few more decorations; it should be complete. There was a proud breath of air exhaling from your chest; all you need is to finalize everything and report to your mother-in-law. The thought of Hanami made you feel disgruntled, "Everyone, please take a quick break before we continue." A murmur of thanks filled the air.

"Let's go, Yumi," taking a walk; you were chatting with her, making small jokes here and there. Occasionally Yumi reminds you that she represents a simpler time when you were still young and didn't have this much weight on your shoulders.

"Is Concubine Asuna this dense?" An exacerbated pitch voice raised in the courtyard. You can hear two quiet sniffles; it belongs to a woman and a child. Concubine Asuna held her weeping son in her arms as two higher-upper consorts bullied them.

"She's a person with no backbone, yet dares to be courageous," another concubine snide, "even the boy doesn't even look like Lord Sukuna. Do you think she slept around?"

"Probably," the same annoying voice quip back and laughs at the thought. "Plain and undeserving too. Hey, take off your outer layer, or these servants will."

"Under whose order?" You stepped in, and the two concubines, along with their subjects, froze when they saw you walking toward them with a cold, menacing gaze that could cut a person down.

"We were just teaching Concubine Asuna manners Lady (Name)," the concubine with the pitched voice sputters out; they kept their head low, and so did everyone else. No one dares to look at you in the eyes except for Asuna's child, that looks at you with comprehensive, wondering grey eyes. You represent Sukuna.

"And by sullying Lord Sukuna's name and one of his heirs?" You tilt your head to the side with a questioning gaze, and there is a click of your tongue when they start denying with nervous laughter. "I was standing not that far away from here and heard everything, so you say I am deaf?"

"That's not what we're implying, Lady (Name)!" The second concubine cries, lifting their head to meet you, with no other excuses; they spit out the first thing that comes to mind. "You're just bullying us since Lord Sukuna favors you!"

This made you laugh. "Oh? Interesting. Should I bring it to His Lord, then?"

The second concubine put a hand over her mouth and sped away; the first one could only watch with disbelief as she was abandoned by one of her supposed allies. She sneers at you with hatred and then follows suit. "Are you alright?" You ask. Asuna only nodded. You grab her by the arm and pull her up, "You should be careful."

You then eye the little boy who is no older than three. They looked at you, blinking a few times, and then continued. "Mommy, this is the princess on my book cover!" They point at you in happiness, and you look down at your garb.

"Danzo, that's not the princess," Asuna turned to you and mouthed a sheepish sorry.

"Yes, it is!" Danzo ripped their hand from their mother's hold and tried to wrap their chubby arms around your legs. They cheekily smile at you with their round, flush faces.

You were surprised that you didn't know how to react. Since you couldn't see the bewildered expression on your face, Asuna found you decent despite the stigma everyone labeled around you. You were hesitant as you are relatively flustered coming into contact with a child. Asuna noted that this was the first time one came to you willingly. You pat Danzo's head softly like you're handling a fragile glass. Even if it is maladroit, Danzo melts at the contact; their smile becomes buttery as little flowers float into the background. If they could sink into your clothes, they would.

"You can let go now," You bumble out, and they tighten their grip. Danzo rubbed their face into your legs as they let out a muffled 'no.' It was rare to see you be socially awkward, something so innocent as a child.

"Danzo, you need to listen, or you won't see Lady (Name) anymore." The boy gives their mother a stink eye before loosening their grip. Asuna pulled her son to her side.

With Danzo gone, you return to your normal state.

"My son and I should get going; sorry that you have to see such a sight," Asuna apologizes, and you brush it off with a hand, indicating it is alright.

"If they ever-" There was a ringing in your ears as your vision suddenly blurred in front of you in slow motion. Even sounds sounded such a damper. Your body was heating up, and you felt a searing pain shooting straight through your abdomen where your womb lays.

Staggering forward, everything went dark. The last thing you hear is Yumi crying out your name, and Asuna throws herself forward to catch you.

[The Shaman's place, current time.]

"Are you willing to trade one of your own for the health of her womb?" The shaman asks again. Preparation was already made, but they give another glance at Sukuna for confirmation.

Without hesitation, Sukuna answers.

"Yes."

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#fan fiction #jujutsu kaisen #masterlist #jjk x reader #jjk sukuna #anime #jjk fanfic #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #jjk #yandere fanfiction #yandere fic #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere sukuna ryomen #yandere sukuna #yandere sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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dejwrld · 6 months

Text

CHOSOIST KINKTOBER GAMING PLAYLIST — WEEK 2

( COLD AS ICE ) 🎮 SUB ZERO!KUAI LIANG X SIREN!READER

— game synopsis: being the handmaiden of the grandmaster of the lin kuei has its perks. although you feel like an odd one out in a winter storm, your bond with the cold grandmaster seems familiar. as if you've experienced it before.

( cw ) ⸻ fem reader, female anatomy described, takes place in the mortal kombat timeline where kuai liang is the lin kuei grandmaster, clit play, ice play, temperature play, mentions of reader & kuai being multi timeline lovers, slight mk 11 spoilers, mk 1 spoilers, reader has siren powers, fingering, edging, slight exhibitionism, mentions of reader getting memory lost, mentions of poison, it's a lot of jumps in this because i accidentally made it too plotty and got carried away, sorry if i write kuai a lil ooc..it's been a minute since i played mk11, sobs this fic all over the place and it's only own fault because i added too much plot for a kinktober fic

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀kinktober masterlist / previous playthrough

Your teeth chattered aggressively as your arms wrapped around your bare body in a poor attempt to mask the cold feeling. The goosebumps that decorated your skin felt painful, but it was most likely because you couldn’t calculate how long you’d been in the cold. You had to find warmth immediately, but when you pushed yourself to stand, you didn’t move. But you heard footsteps running vastly fast towards you. With your little strength, you dragged your body towards the sound of the footsteps. Each movement felt like a harsh punishment against the cold ground, and eventually, you gave up. Just as your body felt like it was about to give up, you sensed many men surround you as if you were a threat.

“Please..help..” Your voice cracks as you attempt to cover your body. “Please.” Your voice came off as a sweet plead that you thought would work on him.

Why wasn’t your powers working?

Some men weren’t sure to help because you were a helpless nude woman. Some didn’t budge from their defense stance to protect where you were. As you ask for help again, the lines of men depart in the middle, making room for one particular man. His head was held high, and even through your pending hypothermia, you could tell he was the one in charge. Everyone and you meant every single man that your eyes darted between, bowed out of respect.

You felt confused as your eyes met the man who stared down at you with an expression you couldn’t read. Your fingers were going numb to the point that they felt like they were burning off, and you grasped at your shivering limbs before you felt one of the men throw something over your bare body.

“Someone get something for her to cover up.” was the last thing you’d heard before everything went black.

It’s been weeks since you’ve been here. After you are found, you grow accustomed to your surroundings and the people around you—the Lin Kuei. Everyone around you seemed so strict, so disciplined—so strong. But it made sense, considering who their leader was—the Grandmaster. From your knowledge, he was the one who asked for you to be covered up before you blacked out. But besides that awkward interaction, you haven’t seen him around the estate. Some told you that you spent weeks in bed and he would come to see if you woke up, a task many parts of the Lin Kuei felt odd was happening. The Grandmaster frequently sees if the strange naked woman has woken from her slumber.

Now that you’ve been up and about for weeks, you had to admit to yourself that you weren’t used to the cold weather, but you’ll get used to it until you figure out what was going on. Your memories were still a blur. You remembered being on a boat and eventually in water for what seemed like days. Even as the memory of that churns around your brain, you still sense the feeling of familiarity here.

While you poorly attempted to place cups on a tray, humming along to a tune stuck in your head is ultimately the only thing keeping you sane. Just as you finished the assigned tasks, you could hear footsteps enter the estate's kitchen. From your time here, you managed to recognize many by the way they walked. Madam Xia was the head handmaiden in charge of every single handmaiden who served under Lin Kuei. Many of them have skills from basic combat training, cooking, sewing, medical, and some other things. Madam Xia has been with the fraction since she was younger, worked her way to the top, and has now overseen you since you were new.

You didn’t have any of these skills that the others had, so you were as confused as ever about why they placed you here. The man you met some weeks ago, The Grandmaster. From Madam Xia’s mouth herself, she told you that It was his idea until your memory came back or if he knew how to handle you and your situation.

“Your head is always in the clouds, young lady.” Madam Xia pointed out.

“It’s the only thing I can do, Madam Xia.” You sighed as you placed another item on the tray. “If you can’t tell, I haven’t made any friends.” Your eyes avert to glance at your reflection in the shiny silver tray.

“I mean, granted, the Grandmaster choosing you to be his handmaiden has caused some ladies to be uneasy.” Madam Xia’s voice trails off when she realizes this is the first you will hear the news. She had you doing many tasks for a reason.

“I don’t want that role.” You responded with a quickness. “I’m undeserving of such a high role. Especially since I have just got here. I’m still learning many things and think a more polished person would fit better.” Your words moved so fast that Madam Xia had to grasp at your arms to affirm you.

“The Grandmaster chose you personally.” Her chestnut-colored eyes scanned your face, watching the fear leave your eyes as her hands rubbed at your arms. “You’ll do fine; he chose you for a reason.” She smiles at you so hard that her eyes crinkle close. “Now, your first task is to give him this evening tea. If he has any, you’ll just place the tray down and step back for other orders.”

“That can’t be that hard.” You pointed out with a sly grin.

“It won’t be. Just place the tea on the table.” She explained.

You were beyond nervous; you weren’t afraid to admit that, especially with the whispers around the estate about the Grandmaster. With this role, any screw-ups could cost you your life, and you didn’t even think he would harm you. It would be the others that would do it. His men that stood loyally by his side. The other handmaidens you were sure could kill a man with the same utensils they shine.

“Madam Xia, do you know why the Grandmaster chose me?” You asked as you placed the tea on the tray.

“Young lady, I have told you to stop questioning his decisions. The decision is finalized, and don’t mess it up.” Xia had placed some more things on the tray for you to take to the Grandmaster before he was to rest. “You’re already an odd one out within the others—messing this up could get you exiled.” She fixes your attire from the back, and you realize her words sent a chill down your spine.

Madam Xia didn’t lie. You were the odd one out. A woman that the Lin Kuei found in the cold, starving, and no clue how she got there in the first place. They didn’t have to welcome you here in a place with some of the best fighters and protectors, but they did. Madam Xia knew that ensuring you knew how everything operates around here would be a challenge. But the older woman never backed down from a challenge. She always said you had a pretty face and voice that could comfort all. But another pretty face apart from the already bonded handmaidens and warriors in the Lin Kuei only caused you to be iced out by the others. With this opportunity given to you on what seems like a silver platter, it didn’t help your attempt to make friends.

“Remember, your belongings are already in your new room.” Madam Xia pointed out.

“My new room?” You questioned. Your eyebrows furrow together with confusion written all over your face.

“You’ll be serving the Grandmaster now, and it’s only right for you to be closer to him.” Madam Xia gave you one glance at you before speaking again. “I have trained you well, young lady, and you have learned very quickly. The Grandmaster has chosen you for a reason, and we may not know why, but we trust that he has made a good choice. Now, hurry and deliver his nightly tea before it gets cold.” Her finger points at you before she disappears in the darkness of the exit of the heated kitchen.

As soon as she disappeared into the darkness, you placed some extra things on the tray and finally made your journey towards the Grandmaster’s chambers. You mentally remember everything you’ve learned. You were to serve his tea from which side to how much to pour into the cups. You even timed your steps from the kitchen to the Grandmaster’s chambers. The three-minute walk outside in the cold weather could have any time shivering and teeth chattering together. But even with the cold weather that had you thinking you should have wrapped a cloak around your body, two men stood outside his quarters' entrance—standing tall with their heads held high as if it was the best feeling to be guarding the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei.

“I have brought the Grandmaster’s evening tea.” You bow before you can hear the door tugged open and immediately step inside.

The warmth of his chambers made you let out a sigh of relief. You bow your head out of respect, “I have brought your tea,” You put the tea on the small table to the left before finally lifting your head to get a glance at him.

You were pretty new, having only seen him once since that day. But the mere whispers from others intrigued you. They described him as stern, serious, and strong. That’s the energy you get from even being in his presence as you place the tea on the table. You went to pour the hot liquid into the cup, but he firmly stopped you. Indicating he can do it himself. But soon, his hand extended, gesturing for you to take the place before him. You did, sitting on your knees as you watched him pour the tea in the cups.

You purposely put two cups just in case he had guests.

“I have assigned this role to you to keep a close eye on you.” He explained. “While you’re here, you will follow the rules just like everyone else until you regain your memory.” He slides the cup of tea across towards you.

“I expressed to Madam Xia that I feel like this role could have gone to someone much more experienced.” Your eyes stare at your reflection in the hot liquid. “But, if you assigned this role to me because you don’t trust me. I understand.”

“It’s just strange.” He sips from the cup and makes eye contact with you, maybe to catch you in some form of lie.

Now, you were able to get a complete look at him. The scar that decorated his face traveled from his forehead, passed his eyes, and down his cheek. His dark brown eyes scan your face before speaking again, “Your training starts tomorrow morning.” He finishes the cup of tea just as you sipped out your cup.

“My training?” Your eyebrows furrowed together, and you sat up straight. “How can I be your personal aid if I’m training?”

“You can’t be my personal aid if you can’t protect yourself.” He backfired, leaving you there to bite back a response.

Your lips went to argue because you could indeed protect yourself. But with your powers not working now, you were as useless as possible. You could tell the training would be intense just by the way each member of the Lin Kuei carried themselves. It was as if they paraded around, always to be guarded and ready for everything.

“So, rest tonight, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

You blinked a couple of times to process what he was saying before standing up quickly. You bowed out of respect before speaking, “I hope you sleep well, sir.” You turn to leave, watching as the doors open for you, and you search to find the room that Madam Xia helped set up for you.

As the Grandmaster said, you had training tomorrow. It was intense training from the crack of dawn when the sun peaked through the icy mountains to late at night when the temperatures dropped drastically. Each day you spent with the Lin Kuei, you grew accustomed to everything. The Grandmaster and you grew close so you no longer mind being by his side. You took the position with more pride now—even if some still didn’t agree.

You thought that you were put into this strange predicament for a reason. You thought your powers being gone was a sign that maybe you weren’t meant to have them from the start. That the familiar connection you felt with the Grandmaster was a sign.

“Can I admit something that may come off as strange, Grandmaster?” You asked before you were about to leave.

“Kuai.” He corrects firmly as he was looking over the papers in front of him.

“I don’t think that’s approt-” Your eyes met him and you felt your cheeks heat at the way he looked at you. So, you corrected yourself. “Kuai, this feels familiar. Like it has happened before.”

You watch as his eyebrows scrunch up in confusion. “Has your memory finally returned?” He questions.

“I don’t think so, but this feels familiar.” You repeated. “As if we’ve met before. I know it’s strange, and I can just be exhausted due to today’s work, but I just thought to tell you for some reason.”

That reason is that you were yearning for him to reaffirm your own thoughts. But he didn’t, so you found yourself explaining further your own thoughts. You stepped further into the room towards him before sighing, “I just feel like we were meant to cross paths for some reason. I was found that night for a reason. My powers are gone for a reason.”

“Powers? I think you just need some rest, Y/N.” He points out before his eyes look back to the things in front of him. “It’s been a long day, and you’ve been out in the cold for hours.”

You wanted to argue against his words, but you extended your hand and immediately touched his. His eyes stared at you with a shocked expression before you spoke, “Tell me about your day, Kuai.” Your lips curve into a kind smile similar to what you would do before you met him.

You watch as his eyes dilute before he’s rambling on about his day. Your heart quickened at the sight of this because your powers actually worked. You thought maybe that wouldn’t come back due to your memory of what happened that night being a big blur. But they did, you dropped Kuai’s hand and stood up frantically. His face scrunches up in worry as he watches you disappear out of the room in a hurry.

As your powers were slowly coming back, you avoided Kuai as much as possible. If you weren’t doing your duties as his handmaiden, you stayed in your room to avoid any other contact. Hell, you thought it was a bit dangerous for you to even communicate with other members of the Lin Kuei. One phrase could cause a person to be under your control. One song by the name of The Siren’s Song could make a person go mad. And you didn’t want to hurt Kuai or what he has built as the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei.

As you were going to do your nightly duties, you felt everyone staring at you. Some whispering and pointing as you walked toward the kitchen.

“Y/N!” Madam Xia approached you quickly. “Please tell me, the rumors aren’t true.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked as you looked at the elderly woman. “What’s not true?”

“That you attempted to poison the Grandmaster.” She whispers the last part as if it were a sin that could get her cursed.

“What? I would never! Who would spread such a rumor?”

“Y/N!”

Kuai’s voice interrupted your following words to Madam Xia. His head motions for you to follow behind him, and you hurriedly do what you were told. You weren’t sure if you should be confused or angered. With each step, one of the assassins that you were positive could take your life—attempted to follow behind. But Kuai gave them a look to cause them to back down.

You didn’t like how silent he was as you followed behind him. The only thing you can hear is your own footsteps against the stone as you walk by glaring eyes—glaring eyes that feel like daggers with each step you take. You didn’t understand how anyone would believe the lie that you would do such a thing. Poison a man you’ve grown to care for more than you expected. A man that you were in love with. Obviously, you were getting framed—you didn’t know by whom, but you were going to figure it out. You were sure you had mastered your powers to get someone to admit it (even though this was going against Kuai’s wishes).

As you stepped into the room with Kuai, the door shutting sent a nervous chill down your spine. You were hoping he wouldn’t believe such nonsense. But you knew he had to take such accusation seriously as the Grandmaster. You knew his most loyal men were outside those closed doors waiting for the cue to grab you or deadly enough—kill you if it was needed. But as your eyes watch him take comfort behind the chabudai table and rub his hands over his face, you can’t quite read his expression. You couldn’t quite read his body language.

It was as if you were standing before him for the first time when you were assigned to be by his side as his handmaiden. Your head bows in defeat because how can you defend your name without any evidence to back it out? The fact that the others of the handmaidens didn’t enjoy your company either didn’t help. But you knew the Grandmaster.

Actually, correction.

You knew Kuai.

With the power you had, you wanted to pinch yourself for even allowing your head to hang low in pity. You could make the people responsible for this pay with just a quick touch and your sultry singing voice. You lift your head high and as the situation finally dwells upon you, you want to let out a laugh. A quite loud, conceited one because of the fact that he would even think you would betray him. That you would even take the risk of poisoning him. Your fingers tugged at the strings that held your attire together. “Do you want to inspect me, Grandmaster?”

You untied your attire, revealing your undergarments. “How bare do you want me?”

“Y/N.” Kuai’s voice came out like a whisper; his eyes bore into you so intensely it felt like the candle helping bring light into the room was directly under your skin.

“For you to think that I would betray you.” Your eyebrows furrowed together in frustration, and you stepped forward where the only space between you and him was the chabudai table that he sat behind.

“So tell me, Grandmaster, would you like to expect me fully?” Your fingers slip to remove your undergarments. The pieces of fabric decorate the floor like cherry blossom petals on the ground.

Within the weeks of getting close and having the honor of calling him Kuai, you knew going back to the formality of him being called Grandmaster by you hurt him. It probably hurt him even more than you being accused of poisoning him. You sat down on the table in front of him, your hand grabbed a hold of his, letting his hand guide his way down your bare body. His fingers brushed against your hardened nipples.

“So, tell me now, Grandmaster. How will I be able to poison you if I have been by your side for months now?” Your teeth nibble at your lower lip, holding back a moan at how his hands caressed your body like it was so delicate.

A sigh passed by Kuai’s lips before he spoke, “What am I going to do with you?” He clicks his tongue, and before you can respond, he’s leaning in to kiss you.

You always imagine how Kuai would feel up close and personal, how his lips would feel upon your own. You asked if his body was as cold as the ice he could create using his hands. But now that you were indulging in a heated kiss with him, he brought you so much warmth. His fingers grasped upon your bare thighs, pulling you closer. His fingertips dragged along your smooth thighs, and you gasped, feeling the cool touch of his index and middle finger.

When you felt him rub against your wet folds, a chill tingled down your spine as your hand muffled a moan—realizing that someone could be guarding the door. The cold feeling of his fingers made you feel so numb, but a pleasurable numb. Your chest heaved in anticipation, waiting for him to finally give you what you want. You wanted him to touch all of you. You wanted him to indulge in the wetness between your thighs some more. And to most certainly stop the teasing.

“Please, Kuai.” You beg. “Give me more.”

Kuai wasn’t a man to deny seeing you in pleasure. He took pride in the way you looked right now. Bare for him. Naked for him and only him. Moaning and whimpering out for him. So, when he finally inserts two fingers inside your pussy, it causes his cock to twitch in suspense, seeing the way your eyes shift close and for you to finally hear that moan he was yearning for. The thrusting of his fingers continued, slow and steady to make you whimper for more. But also fast enough to watch your chest heave inward and outward and clutch onto his wrist to get him to slow down. Which he did, ultimately edging you on as he removed his slit-covered fingers to rub at your clit. A circular motion that made your toes curl, and your mouth let out coos of pleasure. His free hand pulls you closer to the table, this time resting one of your thighs upon his broad shoulders, completely trapping you from running away from what’s to come. His fingers circle the entrance of your pussy, and he’s indulging in it once again.

Your faces were inches apart and you leaned forward to kiss him again, but he moved backward. His lips twist into a smirk as he’s thrusting and curling his fingers into your pussy before adding another finger. His free hand held the small of your back, holding you in place to feel every jab of his three fingers. Your eyes water, but it isn’t tears of pain or sorrow—complete pleasure.

He forms a small piece of ice after letting you go with the free hand. His fingers still were knuckles deep inside you, and you were so embarrassed at the sound of how wet you were. The piece of ice he created, drags alongside your chest to your already hardened nipples, and you can feel yourself see nothing but stars and Kuai. Your thighs quivered at his touch and the only thing you can muster up the courage to do is moan.

The way Kuai’s cool fingers curled into you caused your back to arch off the table. Your toes curled in anticipation as you felt your orgasm pooling in the pit of your stomach. Despite his cold hands rummaging over your body like a sex-deprived man, your body still felt hot, and a sheet of sweat decorated your plush body. Your hips roll to ride upon his fingers that were inside of you. But you completely lost it when he leaned forward, latching upon your puffy clit. His tongue flickers at it so powerfully that you are attempting to run away from his flicks of pleasure.

“I’m going to…” Your words drag out in a stifling whine. “Cum.” Your words finally let out just in time for to cum all over his fingers.

As you came down the spine chilly orgasm, your body felt exhausted. Your eyes were fluttering to stay open as exhaustion overcame your body. You felt Kuai lift you and place you down on the shikibuton. You felt a thick blanket get tugged over your naked body, and a soft pair of lips pressed a kiss upon your temple as the light from the candle melted away, even though sleep was creeping on you.

This felt a little too familiar, all of this. Your memory lost. Your powers. Him. Kuai.

All of this.

In another timeline, after saving the world (possibly again, considering that you’ve met yourself a total of five times the other day)—as you listen to Johnny Cage gloat about his movie idea, your mind was wondering about so many things, from returning home to your life as a singer and possibly giving Johnny the time of your day to star in his silly movie. You can already hear your manager’s voice questioning your whereabouts and how you’re even late with turning your album into your label. But the thing is, you weren’t even sure if that’s what you wanted to go back to do. You saved a timeline, well, multiple ones. That’s a story you’ll tell your children (if they would even believe it).

As Liu Kang shared his farewells to the group and the others, you quickly stood up because you wanted to ask him something. As if he read, your mind—his words caused you to stop abruptly in front of him. Your eyebrows knit together in frustration because it wasn’t something you wanted to hear, but it was something you had to accept.

“In this timeline, you and Kuai Liang aren’t meant to be. It may be formidable to accept, but trust in millions of other timelines—you two meet again, and time works in your favor.”

tags — @salaciousdoll @syndrlla97 @lilvampirina @spiderpunkfien

#kuai liang x reader #kuai liang smut #mortal kombat smut #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #mk smut #female reader #x female reader #mk1 smut #angelshubnetwork #chosoistkinktober23 #mk1 x reader #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

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roxineedstosleep · 2 years

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Baby onboard!!!

Clark was excited.

Too excited.

It was in a moment of total calm, so calm. That it almost went unnoticed in its entirety.

From one moment to the next, as if synchronised, another heartbeat appeared. A small and weak one, that was growing and growing until it began to consolidate next to yours.

So small, so innocent, so new in this world.

You thought you heard wrong. You really did.

How was that even possible? It was unlikely.

A miracle.

If it weren't for his skin being immune to his own powers, Clark would assume that per se, his alien and human anatomy were completely incompatible. Rather, it was a miracle, a big one, that Kryptonians had an outward appearance very similar to humans… or at least that their corporeal form suited the environment he needed it to suit.

In other words. He would have barely even known what his stomach looked like if Bruce hadn't managed to scan it during a Kryptonite attack. Only then did he know how many organs you had, what they looked like, their functions, the way they worked.

Internally, he was incompatible with a human being… even if he looked externally like one.

And now… Now it all mattered very little.

With a quick glance, as if he didn't really want to see, he decided to look at your belly… and there it was!

Your precious baby!

Well… it looked horrible, it was just a hideous mass of multiplying and constantly deforming corpuscles… but it was soon to be a baby.

He could see it, he could really see it.

He could imagine how it would be forming little by little, how its little hands would be created, how its face would be forming until it really looked like a baby. The way it would move, how it would settle, whether it would be a boy or a girl… everything.

God! He could see it and just now his baby was a mass!

And he was so excited about it!

He had to tell you! I had to tell you the good news!

He had to tell you that after so much praying to Rao, praying to God, praying to the universe, the possibility of parenthood became a reality. How could he deny you with the good news?

And that's what he did.

He got up from his desk in his office, and ran to your room.

Unlocking the bolt and closing the hard metal door as soon as he entered, he saw you sleeping on the makeshift bed of blankets you had made.

Well, now that there was a baby on the way, you couldn't keep sleeping like that every time you refused to use his bed. No.

Pregnant women should sleep in comfortable beds, next to their husbands so that he can take care of them.

Maybe now that he has you officially attached to him, he will consider unshackling you. After all, you would soon be too heavy to run away.

But those were things that could be sorted out a bit quicker and later.

The only thing that mattered now was telling you how much he loved you, after he found out you were pregnant. Had you made such a fuss because of your hormones?

That would make sense! Pregnancies were awkward. He'd make a point of apologising to you for being so inconsiderate. Fresh air and going for a walk was highly recommended for pregnant women; you only asked for what you needed, you didn't want to escape.

So little was known about hybrid pregnancies.

Let alone if it was half Kyptonian and human.

You'd both have a lot to learn from this little miracle!

Well… What mattered now was that you learned about the beautiful miracle they had on the way.

Wasn't that a wonderful thing?

#yandere and reader #yandere #yandere dc #yandere superman #yandere superman x reader #yandere clark kent #yandere clark kent x reader #yandere kal el #superman #superman x reader #clark kent x reader #kal el #dc

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whydoyoucare866 · 6 months

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Moonlight

PAIRINGS:

Titans!Jason todd x reader

SUMMARY:

Bruce has taken in Jason Todd as his youngest son and the new robin some months ago, Bruce’s goddaughter also came back to Gotham after being away for a year.

Some months after meeting Jason she starts a friends with benefits relationship with him, suddenly Jason has to move to the Titans tower and two weeks later Bruce sends her too, but, why is Jason ignoring her and acting like he doesn’t know her and why does it get worse when Rose Wilson arrives to the tower??

A/N: in this story Dick and Jason will not have such a big age gap as they do in the show, Dick will be 23 while Jason will be 19, but for the sake of the plot it will, also ignore that there’s already a dc character called moonlight, also the powers I made up for her make no sense at all but we’ll have to deal with it.

TWS: slow burn, angst, blood, canon violence, mentions of death, anxiety, jealousy, friends to friends with benefits to enemies to lovers?, maybe death of a main character (haven’t decided yet) change of plot

Keep in mind that English is not my first language, I also know nothing about guns, human anatomy or fighting in the language so I'm sorry if I make a lot of mistakes

Story Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Superman by Eminem was playing as the car Bruce sent to get you from the airport approached the gothic styled manor you hadn't seen in a year or so, the way everything looked the same brought you a sense of comfort, you knew Dick wasn’t Robin anymore, you were really close to Dick and he had told you all about how Bruce was a bad father and how he didn’t want to become him, you understood him, although you couldn’t help but feel bad for Bruce, you knew he was trying his best and he may not have been the best father, but he was a great godfather, it probably was because he wasn’t 100% responsible of you, he didn’t have to teach you about emotions, life, problems, or shit like that, he just had to spoil you and talk to you, so it was probably easier for him.

As you grew closer to the manor you noticed that Bruce and Alfred were already waiting for you by the door with some guy, he looked a little bit younger than you, but not too much, you couldn’t see him very well from the distance, but he seemed to be in casual clothes so you assumed he lived here, he was probably another stray that Bruce took in after Dick left so you paid it no mind. Eventually you arrived to the mansion and you could cry, it had been a year since you had last seen Bruce and Alfred, it had been a year since your dad had died, he was the only parent you ever knew, your mom wasn’t a deadbeat who abandoned you or anything like that, but she wasn’t “normal” she had special abilities (which you also have) that you didn’t know were special until you showed them to a boy in kindergarten and made him cry out of fear, at that moment you didn’t get why the boy had cried when you just tried to show him how your hands could glow, you then got a long talk from your mom about how most people don’t have the same abilities as you, therefore you have to keep them a secret, otherwise people would be scared or even worse it would put you at risk because there were bad people who wanted those abilities for themselves. You learned to take the talk seriously when your mom got killed by some scientist who wanted to have her powers and it was all thanks to not hiding them too well, leaving your dad and yourself on your own.

The sound of the car’s door opening pulled you out of your thoughts, and you immediately started getting off the car, you started walking towards the entrance of the Manor and all of the memories came flooding back making you emotional, you approached Bruce and just crashed into him with a hug, he became stiff, but he tried to comfort you as you cried in his arms, you hadn’t seen him ever since your dad had died, you had ran away from your problems and went to Europe for a year thinking it would help, but it didn’t, you were completely alone at Europe, at least here in Gotham you had Bruce and Dick and Alfred, you weren’t completely alone, but over there you were, and it just made you realize how much you missed and appreciated them.

When you calmed down, you moved on to Alfred who looked just as neat as always and also hugged him tight, after all Alfred reminded you of a loving grandfather and always gave you comfort, Alfred pulled away and excused himself to bake your favorite desserts, just like he always did whenever you were sad, it all felt so familiar that you felt comfort for the first time in a year. After hugging Bruce and Alfred and breaking down you realized there was still a boy who probably didn’t know who you were and had to witness you being a mess as his first impression of you, poor boy probably would be really uncomfortable after seeing a stranger come into his house and break down while he just stood there, the thought of it made you feel embarrassed making the atmosphere really awkward as you just stood staring at each other not knowing what to do, or say, Bruce took on the tense atmosphere and started introducing you to each other in hopes that the tension would fade away. You learned that his name was Jason Todd and he had just gotten taken in a year ago, some months after you left for Europe, Bruce also told you about how he found him and how he was now the new Robin, Jason have you a short nod as his way of saying hi and then Bruce started telling him about you, he told Jason about your abilities and how you were the vigilante known as moonlight which made Jason look excited, Bruce seeing Jason’s reaction told you how he was a fan of Robin and Moonlight and it sparked a bit of pride inside of you, but then made you feel embarrassed as you realized you had probably disappointed the boy by showing him how weak you actually were.

After the introductions finished, Alfred came out telling you all to get inside and to let you go to your room and accommodate, which you thanked him, You loved Bruce and Jason seemed nice, but you were exhausted after flying and you just wanted to get some rest, Alfred guided you to your room as if you hadn’t bern there a thousand times and insisted on carrying your luggage for you even though you said you could handle it.

“Here we are Miss (Y/N), you already know where Master Bruce’s and my rooms are in case you need anything, and if you ever need Master Jason his room is the one that’s right in front of yours in Master Dick’s old room .”

You thanked Alfred who excused himself and went to the kitchen and you decided you were too tired to unpack and that you would do it tomorrow, so you took the book you were reading and your headphones out of your bag and laid down to read a bit, you were really tired and after some pages your eyes started to get really heavy and you felt yourself drifting off to sleep.

taglist:

@fairyeoll @singitoutgirl26

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wlw-imagines · 1 year

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No Truth In It - Amelia Shepherd/Reader (Grey’s Anatomy)

request: I love your stories!!!! Could you do one with Amelia Shepherd where she and the reader decide to be in a fake relationship for whatever reason you'd like and then eventually it turns into a real relationship? If you do, thank you so much in advance!!! - anon

a/n: these are from my old tumblr thefandomwritings from back in 2018 ! re-vamped and re-purposed!! hope u enjoy and forgive the 2018 me style writing

Your day had started as a relatively normal day at the hospital. In some ways and in some people's opinions it may not have been normal at all but of course, it had to be taken in perspective.

But you were sure that in anyone's opinion what happened next was somewhat absurd.

The sound of hurried footsteps slowly drew your attention away from the chart you were holding and onto Amelia, power marching down the corridor looking frazzled and slightly panicky. Upon spotting you she smiled and dragged you away from the nurses you had been standing near and whispered, "You have to pretend to be my girlfriend."

"Excuse me?" You asked, taking time to actually look at the woman in front of you, quickly checking for any signs of her needing medical assistance. Surely she needed medical assistance.

She just smiled innocently at you, leaving you feeling ever so slightly bewildered.

"My ex is- you just have to trust me.” She rambled on, still in a bit of a frenzy. “Pretend we're in love."

"I-"

She looked behind you, before interrupting your attempts at making sense of any of this with one demand. "Kiss me."

"I’m sorry... what?" Before you could do, think, or say anything else, Amelia had pulled on the lapels of your coat and brought your body as close to hers as she could. She held your gaze for a few moments and you returned a slightly startled look before she cocked her head to the side slightly. You frowned, nodding a little. Sometimes it was just easier to go along with Amelia’s plans than question them.

Her eyes softened and she smiled, slowly moving forward and brushing your lips with her own. Your hands almost instinctively moved to her waist and hers were cupping your chin, keeping you close to her.

"Ahem, Amelia?" A feminine voice brought you back down to reality and you quickly parted from your colleague, taking a step back and clearing your throat. "Amelia Shepherd!"

"Oh, Joanne... Hi." You watched as she smiled at the woman, a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes making you curious about what was going on (and even more confused in general).

Joanne plowed on, "How are things? What are you up to now? How is the whole rehab thing going?" Asking one question after another. You found that you couldn't help but glare at this Joanne woman for asking such an invasive question and so you took a protective step towards Amelia way more quickly than you had previously stepped away from her. "Oh, and who is this?" She went on to ask, pointing at you but making a point of not looking at you.

Amelia glanced at you and smiled, "This is Y/N. She's my, uh, my girlfriend." You hesitated, sending her another alaramed look before smiling and nodding, eventually deciding that - fuck it - if the only way to be Amelia's girlfriend was through this weird situation of making a possible ex jealous (if that’s what was going on?) then you might as well go for it.

"Oh. Right, you moved on quick." Joanne laughed at her own comment. You felt Amelia tense up next to you and quickly held her back by wrapping an arm around her waist and holding her close to you. She glanced at you and softened again, taking a deep breath. "Well, I must admit that the real reason I came to seek you out today was to give you this."

The woman rummaged in her bag for a few moments, giving you time to properly look at her. It struck you that she really didn't seem like Amelia's type but maybe that was just wishful thinking. After all, the woman standing there was nothing like you and you wanted, more than anything, to be at least somewhat close to being Amelia's type.

Eventually, Joanne found what she was looking for and plucked out a deep pink envelope with a small sigh of satisfaction. She smiled, with a little glint in her eye, as she handed it over to Amelia.

There was an awful silence as Amelia realised what it was, "A wedding invitation?"

"Yes, Josh and I are getting married-" She beamed.

"Wow." Amelia quietly mused but still Joanne carried on, loving the sound of her own voice way too much.

"And I thought you would just love to stop by on my big day... As long as you don't suddenly confess you're still in love with me." She laughed again at her own comment. Your eyes widened at this strange woman and this weird encounter and at the fact that your assumptions had been correct.

"Great."

"Don't worry darling, you're more than welcome to bring a guest. Maybe your roommate or something. Although promise to keep that ghastly woman away from my family. You know they weren't big fans of your friends."

Amelia scoffed, "Sorry, what?" You could see how uncomfortable she was in this situation and to try and make it better, you did the only thing you could think of doing: Make this woman as jealous as you could.

"I'm sure Amelia would love to come but I'm afraid she's...” Your mouth had opened before your brain had decided on something to say, shit. Come on brain! “I'm- we're going house hunting." Okay, so maybe you weren't so great at this whole improv thing.

"Oh?"

You gulped and nodded, "Yes, I-" Amelia brightened up next to you, a cunning smile setting on her face.

"Y/N, surely we can put that on hold until next weekend? We wouldn't want to miss Joanne's wedding, of all things." Joanne tilted her head and let out an unimpressed little laugh.

"You mean, you're bringing her?" She finally looked directly at you, only to scoff and shake her head.

Amelia took hold of your hand again and brought it up to her lips, kissing your skin gently, "Of course."

You frowned, not intending to get yourself this deep in Amelia's dating drama, "You are?" You asked, trying to subtly shake your head.

"Yes. Maybe we can get some inspiration for our wedding." She beamed at you.

Joanne's smile quickly faded and she nodded, "Oh... well. That's just lovely. Marvellous, amazing." She muttered, evidently already hating your guts. "Anyway, I really should get going. I look forward to seeing you there, although if house hunting is planned I really wouldn't want you to miss out."

Amelia fake gasped and shook her head, "Oh, of course not. We're excited, right?" She squeezed your hand and you sighed.

"So excited." You said as sarcastically as you could. Standing next to each other and watching Joanne leave instantly made you feel better. You shuddered slightly and, once again, took a step away from Amelia, "What a vile woman." You muttered, picking your patient's chart back up and trying to focus - stop thinking about the kiss.

"I moved on fast? I moved on fast? She's the one that's getting married for fuck's sake!" Amelia ranted, frustratedly pacing beside you. You rolled your eyes and just grunted in response, trying to pretend your charts were more interesting.

"Mhmm."

"And the way she talked about my friends? Referring to them like that? Fuck you, Joanne." The fuming woman next to you stuck both her middle fingers up in the direction Joanne had left in.

"You do realise, she's gone?" You smiled, finally giving in and leaving your chart to the side.

"Well, I know that." She grumbled and pouted slightly. You both stood in silence for a few seconds, side by side, until Amelia perked up slightly, "But hey, we can show her what's what at her wedding, right? We can prepare. It'll be great-"

You shook your head and turned to face her, "Woah, no. We- I am not going to that wedding." The look on Amelia's face almost made you take it immediately back but then you remembered Joanne was a real life nightmare stuck in a human body, "Oh, come on, I don't know the woman! I don't want to know the woman. She sucks. What the hell were you doing dating her?"

"I know, okay? But firstly, I just want to say thank you for what you just did for me and also-"

"No, we're not going to the wedding. All right? I refuse." You firmly stood your ground, avoiding eye contact with Amelia.

"Why not?"

"Because!"

"Because?" She prompted, shuffling closer to you as she tried to catch your eye, "Hey, besides, I want to show off my girlfriend." You could see her grin slightly in the corner of your eye and you laughed, turning to her once again.

"You don't have a girlfriend!" Whilst there was a tiny ounce of hurt in her eyes, she pushed up her chin and raised an eyebrow.

"Come on! We're going. For me?” She tried again, but you stood firm. No way were you going to this wedding. “And you know, as your boss, I could always fire you if you say no." She smirked and started walking back down the corridor, the same way she had come.

You gasped slightly, "Amelia!"

"What, I'm just saying? Just think, there is bound to be a buffet. Free food?" She wriggled her eyebrows excitedly. You hid your laugh with a scoff and just shook your head. "See you for the wedding, gorgeous. I'll pick you up at 3:00." She shouted over her shoulder before rounding the corner and disappearing from sight.

Time to look for a wedding outfit then.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

"I hate you."

"You love me."

You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest, slouching in your chair, "There's no free buffet."

Amelia scoffed and nodded, "Which is great news." She took another swig at her water, finishing the glass.

"What? No." You shook your head like a small kid, "No, it's not. I've been here for 4 hours and it's the only thing I came for."

"Uh, it's great because it means it's a shit wedding. Everyone knows a great wedding has some kind of buffet." She smiled to herself before biting her lip and looking at your side profile. Even whilst you were sulking she had to admit you were cute, "And besides, I thought you came for my beauty and great skills of persuasion."

You hummed sarcastically, "Maybe the first one, definitely not the second." Amelia tried to hide her grin. Even if you were being sarcastic she still couldn't help the light blush creep onto her cheeks or a butterfly here and there in her stomach. She let the comfortable silence linger as she enjoyed the idea of being in a real relationship with you. The silence came to an end when she spotted a waiter carrying around slices of wedding cake, she called him down and took two slices.

"No free buffet but free cake is still good." She inched her chair closer to you, offering the cake as a symbol of peace. You gratefully took the cake and kissed Amelia's cheek.

Amelia sighed and looked at you in wonder, another great idea soon coming to her. She inched even closer to you and whispered in your ear.

"Hey, Joanne's looking, you gotta kiss me."

You frowned, looking around you, "What? Wher-"

Before you could finish, Amelia softly took your chin in her hand and turned your head to face her, "Hey, I don't make the rules." She softened her voice and slowly leant in, capturing every single feeling and memory that the kiss sparked. For a while, the two of you were in ignorant bliss, just using the excuse of making an ex jealous to move closer.

“Is she still there?” You asked, only inches away from Amelia.

“Let me check.” She looked over your shoulder behind you, and allowed a small frown to form before nodding, “Damn it, she is.”

“Oh, really?” You raised an eyebrow and Amelia shrugged, nodding.

“She’s walking over right now,” She looked back to you, “So we should probably kiss again. Only to make her jealous.”

You smiled, “You dated her for a while, right?” Amelia moved back slightly and slowly nodded, “Does she have a twin?”

She hesitates, clearly confused, “No, why?”

A small grin spread out onto your lips and you nodded over Amelia’s shoulder to the bride, her ex. “Just that I’m pretty sure she’s over there, not watching us.” You shrugged, “I wonder who you saw...” You make a show of looking over your shoulder, knowing that there she was never there to begin with.

“Okay, I’ve been rumbled.” Amelia admits and you turn back around to see her profusely blushing.

You lightly squeeze her hand, “If I’d have thought of using that as an excuse, I would have a long time ago.”

She smiled warmly at you and pressed a kiss to your cheek, “You don’t need an excuse.”

Eventually you pulled slightly away, Amelia's hand still on your thigh, keeping you close. You took a minute just to look at the woman opposite you, really look at her, and to try and remember what this all felt like. It felt like home, like comfort. "Look, it's getting late. Shall I take you home?”

Amelia nodded, gathering her things, “God, I hate weddings.”

"Especially the ones without a buffet." You looked around at all the people trying to make conversation with the strangers next to them as you walked out of the building, desperately trying to avoid being caught by Joanne (which you were successful in).

Amelia looked down at the floor and linked arms with you, "I liked this one a little bit.”

"You did?"

"You made it more bearable."

"I try." You smiled, before moving your arm out from Amelia's and putting it on her lower back, "Come on, let's get you home."

"Mm, you're going to make such a great wife." She teased, getting into the car and shutting the door behind her.

The car ride back had been quick and full of comfortable silence. The radio had been on quietly and you had found yourself just humming along with Amelia next to you, staring at you every now and then.

It became worse once you had arrived at hers. The car ride silence was much more comfortable than this current torture anyway. You hated dating etiquette, especially when you weren't actually dating.

"So, thanks for being my fake partner." Amelia awkwardly smiled, getting her keys out and shuffling her feet as you both stood outside her doorway.

You nodded, "Any time."

She took a deep breath, turned to open the door before turning back to you and shooting you yet another awkward smile, with a little nervous laugh added in this time, "Couldn't have done it without you."

"Yeah, it's been a pleasure." You took a breath to say something, anything. Just so this wouldn't end but you came out with nothing. And all Amelia could add was another filler.

"Yes, good fun."

"Mhmm..." Even worse that all you could add was a noise. Why did brains fail to find the words to say when you needed them most? You were a doctor, for god's sake, you constantly worked under high pressure yet couldn't find a singular appropriate word to say.

You almost praised the lord when Amelia finally jumped the gun and said what you were hoping she would say from the very beginning of the night.

"Do you want to come in?" She hesitated but continued nevertheless, "I can put some coffee on and we can make out for a while." She asked as if it was the most innocent thing in the world. You let a grin spread on your face and let out relieved laugh.

"Now, that's what I'm talking about." You moved closer to her as she excitedly turned round to unlock her front door, "Obviously I'm only doing this as your fake girlfriend." You joked, still unable to cope without being awkward.

Amelia turned round again, standing in her hallway and shook her head, "Nope. Just as us, no fakeness about it." She took your hand to pull you in, and swiftly shut the door behind you.

"That definitely works for me." You nodded before rushing forward back into Amelia's arms for more than just an ex-girlfriend. This was for you, this was what you had wanted all along.

#amelia shepherd #amelia shepherd x #amelia shepherd x reader #amelia shepherd imagine #greys anatomy #greys anatomy x reader #greys anatomy imagine #greys anatomy x y/n #wlw imagines #WLW #wlw imagine #wlw x reader #wlw-imagines #No Truth In It #imagine #lesbian imagine #lgbt

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digitalagepulao · 10 months

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Sun Wukong, the Monkey King: my design notes [!! click here for the full line-up !!] [click here for just the goodies on tumblr]

also titled, "I underestimated my file sizes" TAT Separate images and info below the read more, beware this is LONG <3

Stone Monkey: himbs baby, that is all <3 he's mostly based off the François Langur, but some of his anatomy and proportions lean more on the Gray Langur and Macaque side of things. His facial fur sort of forms a pentagon shape for the five elements, and I gave him ginger fur cus it's a common depiction for him but also baby langurs are very bright orange, and him not growing dark feels like an apt display of his more childish side, both good and bad. His nails are golden for a bit of a "hidden gem" from a stone egg. Also keeping the tail either in a spiral of C-curve when "engaged", and when droopy it has a feel of a heavy rope. Old World monkeys don't have prehensile tails, he can use it for balance and basic mobility but it's not a third hand for the sake of keeping his monkey-ness.

Handsome Monkey King: in one of the poems the monkeys are said to weave grass for mattresses, so I can see them coming up with a crown of woven grass and never-fading leaves and flowers for their king at the very least. His face skin is darker as an adult, but not much else changes overall. The fuzzy upper lips and sideburns are a feature of the species I'm basing him on and it felt like a good fit to add. I also love the forest langurs are so long-furred, makes for a good way to give him dimension but also, the linework style reminds me of old woodcut shorthands for fur. Added a jade coin for the symbolism, and it feels fitting that the king of such a miraculous mountain would have a treasure like that on him. Placcid chill eyes are imperative, dude's not had an existential crisis yet, he's straight up vibing.

Sun Wukong: during his odd-ten years away from home, he learned human manners so he can stand but, I can see him still needing to lean on his tail to keep up his balance here and there. As he reaches the Western Continent (India) and learns the Way under Patriarch Subodhi, he adopts proper clothes for an apprentice and eventually becomes a Rishi. He dons his facial paint from then on, and after he masters the Way, there's a brightness in his pupils to show his cultivated immortality. The beads are purple solely to stand out over the deluge of oranges that is his design.

Great Sage Equal to Heaven: really went all out on this one orz this is Wukong at his most egotistical and ambitious, and I wanted his fit to truly embody that. Took bits from Peking Opera costumes and common depiction elements of him, with some bit of extra for appropriate levels of flair, like the phoenix feather design. I wanted to go for a mountain pattern mail but I couldn't figure out how to draw it, so I winged a pattern. I,,, doubt I'll ever draw this armor as detailed as here, but I wanted it to feel a bit overwhelming to look at, while also seeming like it doesn't quite fit him perfectly like it's swallowing him. Bit of a "baby wearing their parent's shoes" kind of vibe; he's stupidly powerful but he doesn't have what it takes to sit on the throne of Heaven. Also I leaned his expression to how he might appear during the Havoc in Heaven and then his bet with the Buddha. Full unbrindled rage murder monkey <3

-- Ruyi Jingu Bang: can't quite move on without my notes on the golden-hooped cudgel, now can I? The secondary hoops are there for further design appeal and for my own visualization of how the staff changes size (the hoops move over the staff's length as if to push it outward or inward). The metal is dark damascus alloy, though the pattern can be omitted for ease of drawing. One hoop end depicts a dragon, the other a phoenix, and in the middle of the staff is the canon inscription as described in the books, in seal script. Glow is optional and mostly for aesthetics.

Sun Pilgrim: out of his stolen armor, Wukong seems to swim in his robes but in a less overwhelming way. Went for the simple fillet headband cus his face is busy enough as it is. I know he's skilled enough to skin a tiger into pretty decent squares, but after one too many battles, anything would get tattered. He wears red, teal, black and yellow, four of the five cardinal colors, while white (the West) is still missing. His red and black half-robe doesn't fully cover the yellow underneath, a call back to his golden armor; he tries to use his wisdom and teachings to fight back the impulses of his past, but they still shine through at times. I kept only the leg bangs for dynamic elements to better show movement, but also one could say he's got.... golden hoops (haha get it, like his cudgel?? :oD)

Victorious Fighting Buddha: leaned hard on the actual portrayals of the Buddha. Seeing that he's depicted with dark/blue skin, it felt appropriate to let the guy grow out of his baby ginger fur and into adult black, but a patch remains where the golden headband used to be. I didn't want to give him long hair so no bun, but instead, his fur has a sorta lotus-petals shape now rather than his single point. His face paint changes into a more domino-mask style, and his brow white line resembles a teardrop urna. I made the mail piece he holds longer to keep the flowy bits of his previous outfits, and I turned Ruyi Jingu Bang into the sword he wields.

Hello hi, this robbed me of three days of my life and I'd like to receive compensation x.x Anyway hope you enjoy this lad, I know I do! Also if you wanna send me asks about him pls feel welcome to, I'd love to chat about this bastard monkey (affectionate) (loving) (i`d die for him)

#jttw #journey to the west #xiyouji #jttw sun wukong #sun wukong #jttw fanart #monkey king #stone monkey #victorious fighting buddha #buddha victorious in strife #sun pilgrim #bell dragon art #expedition to the west au

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yanderestarangel · 7 months

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HEADKANONS MK1 - "HOW WOULD THEY REACT TO THE PREGNANT READER?"

A/N: an anon asked me for Bi Han's reaction to a pregnant Reader, but then I decided to play several MK men soon, I'll answer all requests too, thanks for the asks and support <3

TW: pregnancy, afab anatomy, paternity mentioned, used "father/mother" to refer to the reader, mention of smut, fluff.

✧ BI HAN ✧

It really depends on what kind of relationship you two have. You can have a "friendship with benefits" with Bi Han, where you look for each other just to have sex, then you end up accidentally getting pregnant and go look for him - obviously afraid, after all, he is Bi Han. So he asks you to meet him in the forest, the same meeting place where you made love in passionate encounters, with Bi Han fucking you hard, whispering how good you were for him, how good your beautiful pussy was on his dick, it was the only moment that the grand master was vulnerable. You saw him in the distance, with his arms crossed and a serious expression on his face as he waited for you to say something so important that made him miss an entire day of liu kuei training. After telling him, he would be surprised for a few minutes, and say: "-Are you sure it's my son?" -Bi Han said with a little too much seriousness in his voice, even aggression while you felt a little offended, but you would say yes, making Bi Han look at the sky, a smile could be seen slightly on his lips as he went at your direction by kneeling in front of your belly and nodding your head. "-I think we will be good parents, our child will have all the honor and power Lin Kuei." -The ice ninja stood up as he held your hand, he would be a good father, even if he was rude at times, he will take care of your pregnancy - and maybe he will want more children in the future with you - he would officially ask you to be his boyfriend/girlfriend or marriage, after all, he needs a partner by his side, especially you who are carrying his offspring.

✧ KUAI LIANG ✧

The two of you also had a friendship with benefits, always together in the lonely early mornings that Kuai would look for you for pleasure and affection, but unlike his brother, Kuai would treat you as if the two of you were already dating, giving you gifts or even forgetting and saying that You were his boyfriend/girlfriend. Over time he started to stay even more at your house, always having sex in every possible place - and often without a condom - so soon your period was late, you felt sick and took a pregnancy test, confirming your suspicions. That night Liang and you had sex again, while you sat next to him on the mattress on the floor with the pregnancy test under the pillow, obviously you were scared, as you saw Kuai look at you worried. "-Is there a problem sweetheart?" -He said, caressing your naked and sweaty waist, after sex, while you sighed and took out the small pregnancy test, with the positive sign, showing it to him without saying anything. Kuai would remain silent for a few minutes, looking at the test in hand while he finally smiled slightly, looking at you fondly. "-Was that it (Y/N)? Why were you afraid to tell me? I'm literally in love with you, it's not just sex for me, I really love you. And we're together for everything, especially this." -Kuai Liang said smiling, hugging you right away, while stroking your hair. "-You will look beautiful as a father/mother, with a huge belly, carrying our child, our family will start now, you and me."

✧ SYZOTH ✧

He's going to faint, no joke, but it's from happiness. Regardless of your relationship, he will be over the moon. Syzoth always wanted a family again, he lost one so he knows the pain and loneliness it is, being alone in the world and without hope, he found you and you started small meetings, sometimes sex, sometimes just watching a movie together or just talking - or sometimes all together, it depends on the mood of the two of you on the day - And this will last for many days, months or even years, he always wanted a title, but you never wanted to put labels on what you two had, what you left He was upset to be honest, but he continued with your conformist carnal encounters while trying to settle for sexual chemistry. But that didn't last long with a fight between the two of you for exactly that reason, you didn't want a relationship but he did, leading to the two of you not seeing each other for two weeks and in the meantime, you discovered you were pregnant, becoming desperate and looking for Syzoth immediately. He was shocked, paralyzed, he was breathing heavily and then passed out seconds later, but he woke up quickly. "-Am I going to be a father??? Am I really going to be a father again?" -Syzoth spoke with a happy smile, taking your shoulders, as he pulled you into a hug, jumping with joy, shedding a few tears in the process, he quickly knelt down, looking at your belly, and placing a kiss over the fabric of your blouse. "-I already love you my child, me and (Y/N) will love you very much." -He stood up, wiping away his tears while looking at you with affection. "-Do you agree to make things official between the two of us (Y/N)? And raise our child? I promise to do everything to protect you, as the father/mother of my son."

✧ REIKO ✧

The two of you were the classic: enemies to lovers, always fighting with each other to stand out more for General Shao Khan or even falling to the punch - without losing the friendship, just a friendly spar, where Reiko and you left bleeding - But there was always sexual tension between the two of you, it was obvious to anyone who saw you, and one day, it became real, with you and Reiko taking a shower after a mission together in the same bathroom and with him teasing you and you teasing back, when you saw it, you had been sitting on Reiko's dick for two hours while he moaned loudly echoing through the box, the sex was incredible and you liked this concept of hating each other and competing in front of everyone, but meeting every night - even though the competitions also applied in the bedroom, with the two of you challenging each other with who was going to cum faster... Reiko always lost - but soon the two of you became more intimate, more passionate, starting to do it without a condom, because Reiko loves make a good creampie in your pussy - after a few weeks, you realized that you were sick and more unwell for training, making him also worry, so you went to an exo terra healer, proving that you were expecting Reiko's child . You didn't know how to tell him, but you didn't have to, he followed you and heard everything, waiting for you outside with your arms crossed and a slight smile on your face. "-Well, I think we're going to be parents now, right? And this child is going to be very dear to me (Y/N), you can trust me." -Reiko spoke sincerely, while placing a hand on your shoulder, kissing you on the forehead. "-And we both know that this child will be like me, he will be born strong like me and-" -He spoke but you soon disagreed, leading the two of you to walk hand in hand while talking/arguing amicably with whoever your son was going to look like.

✧ SHANG TSUNG ✧

He was never a sentimental man, but you were the only person who got to see a softer side of Shang, he was still arrogant but less selfish when it came to you. The two of you met in his castle, where he studied various spells every night and liked to show off to you, at first it was just a friendship, but Shang fell in love with you which led you to have sex on his table, with first time showing you a soft side, as he thrust his hips into you, moaning loudly as he bit your neck. This became a routine, mainly sitting on Shang's lap with his entire dick in your pussy, while he studied some spells, letting you enjoy the pleasure. He's different from everyone else on the list, he knows you're pregnant before you can even open your mouth to tell him. You ran into his castle with tears in your eyes, ready to tell him, but he smiled at you with his back turned, it wasn't a forced or sarcastic smile, it was something soft, something real. "-Oh really? I already knew my cute little voodoo doll, have you already chosen a name? How about something big? After all, this child is mine." -He spoke with his chin raised and genuinely happy, as he called you closer, putting you on his lap and quickly kissing you, caressing your cheek. "-I will take care of you two, you as the father/mother of my child, and this child... I really want you by my side (Y/N)."

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monstersandmaw · 1 year

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Male werewolf x trans male reader (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

___

Commission #5 out of 5! That means I’ve written 21,271 words in total this week (according to Scrivener). Ooof! I’m gonna go sit down now... (this is my second go at posting this because the formatting was off the first time. Tumblr, pls stop and let me post the werewolf boyfriend story. This is literally the werewolf boyfriend website)

Anyway, thank you lovely commissioner for trusting me with your prompt, and for checking it over for me before I shared it here, since I’m not trans.

Contents: trans male reader, injury and mention of blood to our werewolf-spirit, a very expensive gift, oral sex (no specific words used for reader’s anatomy), non-penetrative sex, visible werewolf knot, fluffy ending

Wordcount: 4407

With a forager’s bag slung across your shoulder and a woven basket hooked over your arm, you swigged the last dregs of your morning tea down and darted towards the door. The bounty of a new autumn day beckoned, and the forest around your cottage would be bursting with fruit and mushrooms at this time of year.

You tugged open the door, the reluctant hinges groaning at you, took a single step outside, and froze. At first you thought that the enormous creature sprawled quite literally across the doorstep was a bear, but as you stared dumbstruck at the too-long limbs and the thick, grey-brown coat, and the shaggy, lupine tail, your heart stopped beating. This was something supernatural.

The thought of stepping silently back into the safety of your stone cottage, closing the door, and staying inside until it went away flashed across your mind, but almost before you could process what you were doing, you had dropped the basket at the threshold and stepped over the creature’s outstretched left arm to walk around to its side.

It was still breathing, though the sound had an unhealthy, wet whistle to it, like a punctured blacksmith’s bellows, and there was blood matting the thick fur on its left side where the short, stocky shaft of a crossbow bolt was cruelly embedded in its ribs.

“Oh,” you gasped, hand rising to your lips even as horror plunged right through you at the sight of it. Blood still seeped around the shaft, and something silver glinted beneath the fur. You looked anew at the creature and wondered if it was a werewolf. “If you are and that’s silver, it’ll be fatal if I don’t get it out,” you muttered, kneeling and bringing your fingertips carefully to the creature’s side. “No way I can move you though,” you added, glancing at the creature’s long, powerful, solid legs and at the breadth of its shoulders and the muscles on its arms, visible beneath the thick, coarse fur that covered its body.

At the sound of your voice, the creature’s left ear flicked and it rumbled a growl at you.

“Easy now,” you said through gritted teeth. “I’m trying to help you here.”

The growling did cease, but the way it petered out made you think that perhaps they’d just run out of breath.

“I can work with that,” you said to yourself. “I’m going to get my bag, and I’m going to get this nasty thing out of you, alright?”

You hurried back inside, removed the empty foraging bag from your shoulders and skidded to a halt beside the bookshelf. Among all the tomes on herbs and plants and mushrooms, there was a reference book about supernatural entities. You knew they existed — you'd lived in the woods too long to doubt that there was more than the mundane out there — but you’d never actually thought to encounter anything, let alone find the supernatural bleeding out in your own back yard.

Puffing the air from your lungs, you rallied your courage and opened the leather-bound book to the section on ‘lycanthropy’. Silver was indeed poisonous to them, but the book said it caused the skin and fur to smoke and burn, neither of which you’d seen in the creature outside. Perhaps it was only steel, but you thought the colour was wrong for that. You’d seen the blacksmith forging her blades of bright, greyish steel, and you glanced over at a silver penny pendant that hung in your window for luck. The tone of the pendant was different, brighter and whiter than the steel, and the same hue as the tip of the crossbow bolt.

“Not a werewolf then?” you frowned, but that didn’t change the fact that whatever it was, it was slowly bleeding out on your doorstep.

With the supplies you’d need hastily gathered, you went back outside to find that the creature had rolled a little more onto its good side, exposing the black shaft of the bolt, and a bit more of its face and chest.

Lupine rather than ursine in its features, it opened its black eyes and gazed dolorously up at you, half-heartedly baring huge canines on one side.

“Hey,” you scolded. “Here to help, remember. That looks like silver, but you don’t seem overly bothered by it…”

The creature scoffed a laugh at you.

“I mean, aside from the fact that it’s punched a hole in your ribs and you’re bleeding to death,” you said, and again, the creature huffed at you.

Then, just as you knelt down in the dirt beside it, the creature spoke. Its voice was low and rough, like an avalanche in the distance, and the words were clearly slurred with pain. “You’re right. Not… a werewolf.”

“Oh,” you breathed. “You can talk… If you’re not a werewolf, what are you?”

“I am… an aspect… of the forest itself,” the creature ground out around a mouthful of sharp teeth.

You blinked, half wishing you hadn’t asked. “Right. Well, I guess I’d better get this bolt out of you all the same, huh?”

“If you would be so kind,” the creature said with a dry note of humour to its gravelly voice that made you relax just a fraction.

You gave a quiet warning as you prepared to take the bolt out, and the wolf-like creature nodded in readiness. All in all, the procedure went as well as you could have hoped for, and there was a neat row of stitches pinching the slate grey skin together in no time at all.

“Thank you,” the wolfish entity said, laying its head back down on the path and breathing steadily for a few minutes before casting you a sidelong look. “I interrupted your morning,” they said wryly.

“Yeah, no shit,” you laughed, eyeing the formerly-clean swatch of linen you’d used to staunch the bleeding. “But that’s alright. The berries and hazelnuts will be there tomorrow.”

“And thanks to you, so will I.”

Something akin to pride kindled in your ribcage at that, and you smiled. “The forest has been good to me since I came here,” you shrugged. “About time I returned the favour. What should I call you, by the way?”

The creature blinked slowly, apparently surprised. “I have had a few names in my life, but not many of them have been kindly given by humans — Hunger, Strife, Sheep-Thief, and… worse.”

“Never too late to buck the trend,” you said with another twitch of your shoulder. For all the warnings those names implied, you felt no fear when you looked at the creature; only curiosity, and an odd sense of kinship you couldn’t define. “You hungry? I’ve got some smoked venison that I got from the butcher yesterday. We can think of a new name for you while you get your strength back.”

Your deliberate and relentless optimism seemed to rub off on the creature, because they heaved a huge sigh and smiled in a ‘do as you please’ kind of gesture, tail thumping ever so slightly against the path while you went to fetch some food.

“Here,” you said, returning to sit cross-legged beside them on the dirt outside your cottage. They had managed to heave their body out of that undignified sprawl, but they were still lying down on one side. You sliced off pieces of the smoked venison from the haunch on the wooden board and held them out one by one for the wolf-spirit to take with their clawed, paw-like hand. They didn't eat particularly elegantly, but there was something rather adorable about a creature the size of a grizzly bear taking strips of meat from your hand.

“You know,” you said, “I thought you were a dead bear when I opened the door. Gave me quite the surprise.”

They laughed at that, dark eyes glinting. “Wouldn't be the first time.”

“People have mistaken you for a dead bear before?”

Again, the wolf-like creature laughed, but the sound cut off into a brief but high whimper as the wound on their side flared with pain. “No,” they grunted. “Not a dead one, at least.”

“Maybe we should call you ‘Beorn’ this time.”

They tilted their head, big, triangular ears listening to the sound on your lips, and then they nodded. “My mother used to joke that her boy was born a bear instead of a wolf,” he said quietly after a moment. “The name is more fitting than you realised.”

“Beorn it is then,” you said, feeling just a little emotional. “How quickly do forest spirits heal, anyway? I’m pretty good with humans, but I’m in uncharted territory with your kind.”

“I’ll be well again in no time,” he said.

“Who shot you with that anyway?” you asked as you stared at the dart that lay abandoned in the grass beside you, its bloody, silver tip glinting like a lost fang. “Will they come looking for you?”

He shook his head and eyed the venison again. You sheared off another piece for him and he took it gratefully before answering. “I don’t think so. They were werewolf hunters by the look of them —”

“— explains the silver,” you interjected and he nodded.

“And why they shot at me. They say my kind are what sorcerers modelled their curse on when they created werewolves, thousands of years ago.”

“Huh,” you breathed.

When the venison was almost all gone, Beorn looked a little guilty. “Thank you for sharing your food with me,” he said. “I fear I’ve deprived you of something valuable.”

He had, but you weren’t about to tell him it’d cost you a small fortune, or that you’d planned to make the preserved meat last through most of the coming winter. “Eh, don’t worry about it. The forest will provide, right?”

Beorn fixed you with a steady look but said nothing. He heaved himself up, first onto all fours, and then, using the stone wall of your cottage, onto his hind legs. Standing like that, he must have been nearly seven feet tall, and as you looked up at him, you felt your mouth go a little bit dry. He was obviously still extraordinarily powerful despite his injury, and the way the claws on his hind paws dug into the earth and his chest filled as he inhaled did strange things to your equilibrium.

You swallowed, waiting nervously to see what would happen next, and he offered you a smile that was quite literally wolfish before looking over his shoulder towards the nearby trees.

“Wait,” you croaked. “You’re not leaving like that, are you?”

“No,” he said. “I was going to sit a while in the sun and recover my strength, if you will permit the trespass a little longer?”

“Stay as long as you like,” you smiled. “I live in your woods, don’t I?”

He just smiled at that. “Don’t wait around on my account,” he said after a moment. “The day is still fairly young, and I’ve held you up long enough.”

“If you’re sure you don’t mind?”

He moved to sit beneath your kitchen window, lounging with his long hind legs splayed, his left bent at the knee so he could hunch protectively over his injury while the other stretched out. He flexed his paws, dark claws glinting in the sunlight, and laid his head back against the stone wall just beneath the windowsill.

“You… want me to bring you anything?” you asked him, as though you were going to the village shop and thought he might want a bagel or a pint of milk.

He cracked his eyes open again and smiled. “I can always be won over by a blackberry or two. There are some out near the stream now, but be careful. The moss and algae has grown over the banks and made it slippery. I had to haul a young fawn out of there not long ago.”

The image of him grabbing a slender little deer by the belly and lifting it out of the gully was almost too much for you to take without making an undignified squeak, so you just grinned at him and nodded. “I’ll be careful.”

Three hours later, you came back to find him gone, and you tried not to let the sudden barb of disappointment sting too much. After all, he wasn’t some stray dog that had come limping into your yard for help. He was a forest spirit.

You eyed the spot where he’d been lying though, and set a large handful of blackberries down on the flattened grass, just in case.

In the morning, the berries were gone, but in their place was something of such value that you could hardly take in what you were seeing. It didn’t look like much, but you knew it was worth a king’s ransom. “No way,” you breathed, stepping over to the small, dark brown, lumpy, spherical object and crouching down. You swallowed.

A twig snapped behind you and you whipped around, losing your balance and sitting down hard on the damp ground. Beorn was standing on his hind legs at the edge of the path, and if he was injured anymore, you couldn’t see it.

“Beorn,” you breathed, and then looked back to where a specimen of the rarest and most expensive truffle in the whole world sat on your doorstep like it was just another autumn mushroom. “Do you know what this is?”

He tilted his head and smiled, baring his huge, thick canines. He leaned his elbow on the fence post of the paddock that you hoped one day would contain a goat and some geese. “Of course I know what it is. You humans are always hunting through the forest for them.”

“They’re… They’re more expensive than gold, Beorn!”

“You shared your food with me, and deprived yourself of your winter stores just so that I could eat and heal, and you never looked for anything in return. If I happen to know where to find a few of these, then that’s only fair in my eyes. Now you can sell it in town.”

“Where am I going to say I got it?” you asked, still sitting stunned on the ground. “They’ll think I’m hiding the secret!” In fact, if you sold it in the capital, you could probably get enough for it to buy a whole forest of your own. You’d be richer than half the aristocracy in the land. Dizziness swept over you and you started to laugh.

He approached you then, walking on his hind legs, talons just pricking into the earth and flexing slightly with each step. He halted in front of you and held out his enormous, paw-like hand. He had rough pads like a wolf, but his fingers and thumb were humanoid in shape, though they had curved, black claws. You slid your hand into his and let him haul you carefully to your feet again.

“You’re… healed?” you asked, eyeing the spot on his side where the crossbow bolt had been only the previous day.

Beorn nodded. His dark eyes glinted softly in the morning light, and somehow he didn't seem quite real anymore. It was as though he might vanish if you blinked or looked away too long, and you tightened your grip on his hand. He rumbled something that was somewhere between a sigh and a purr, and then laughed softly.

“I can’t believe you brought me a truffle,” you laughed. “You could have brought me a deer to feed me or something, but no. You bring me a truffle.”

“I can take it back if you like,” he said with an easy chuckle. “There are wild boar in the forest who would very much enjoy devouring that for breakfast…”

“No!” you yelped, playfully putting yourself between the stupendously expensive mushroom and the terrifying forest spirit who could probably just bite your entire head off with a single snap of his jaws. He laughed, the sound deep and rich as it rose from his belly and he tipped his head back, tail swishing from side to side.

“Oh, I like you,” he said when his mirth had faded. “I like you a lot. I’m glad we met, human.”

“I’m not glad you got hurt, but I’m glad we met too,” you said. “And not just because of the truffle. Gods, I could buy my own castle with that.”

He froze and then his ears swivelled back just a little. “Would you… leave?” he asked.

“No,” you said without a second thought. “I earned this place — this peace,” you said with a growl of your own to match the fierceness in the wolf you saw before you. “I wouldn’t change any of it for anything. You’re stuck with me, Beorn. Friend for life.”

His shoulders dropped a few inches and he sighed softly. The trees around the cottage swayed and sighed too, and the whole forest seemed to let go of a tense breath with it. “May I visit you from time to time?” he asked.

A grin spread across your face and you nodded. “As often as you like. After you disappeared yesterday, I kind of thought that was it,” you admitted. “I mean… You’re a forest spirit — I wasn’t sure how much you’d want to hang around with a boring old human.”

“I’d very much like to spend time with you,” he said, his voice dipping low and warm. “And you’re anything but boring.” Before he could go on though, one of his large, triangular ears flicked back and he tensed with a growl. “Someone’s coming up the path. I should not be seen with you.”

“Come back tonight?” you asked, even as he spun on the spot and darted for the trees on all fours, moving like a shadow. He was out of sight in a handful of heartbeats and you ducked inside to get something to put the stupidly expensive truffle in. No point in advertising that you had something that valuable just lying around, even if the inhabitants of the nearby village were the gentlest, kindest folk you could ever have hoped to meet.

After three nights spent talking with Beorn — the first sitting outside in the surprisingly balmy autumn air, and the second two inside your own house, with him stretched out on the hearthrug, soaking up the heat of the fire in luxurious bliss — you decided to take the truffle to the city. It would be a long journey to travel the King’s Road around the ancient, sacred forest, and Beorn instead offered to guide you through the heart of it to save you weeks of unnecessary tramping.

“You’re sure the forest won’t… object?” you asked as you packed your bag one morning and he sat on his haunches like a hound near the door. He always liked to keep one ear on the forest nearby if he could, as though expecting trouble or looking for an easy way out. He was, after all, a wild spirit. He seemed comfortable enough in your presence, but being inside the stone walls of your cottage for too long made him twitchy.

“With my blessing and friendship, you could travel freely through the whole forest alone, and nothing would dare harm you.”

“You’re kidding?”

“No,” he said, and the simple truth of it almost moved you to tears.

“Well… thanks,” you mumbled, blinking rapidly as you stuffed a spare shirt into your pack.

You moved together through territory you knew on that first day, but he led you to a secret, mossy glen that night. You were so tired, you almost fell asleep with your pack on, but he helped you make a camp and a little fire to boil water for tea, and when the night grew chilly, he curled up around you and let you rest with your back against his ribs and your cloak pulled up around your chin. You fell asleep there, and woke stiff and achy in the morning, but gloriously warm.

That became the pattern of your days in the forest with Beorn: you ate a breakfast of wild berries and nuts when your bread rations ran out, and he guided you through the most beautiful country you’d ever seen: thundering, white waterfalls plunging down into mossy crevasses that seemed to swallow the river whole; groves of autumn aspen that rained leaves down around you like a shower of little gold coins; bramble thickets so old and so dense that nothing grew beneath them and the thorns were as large as your hand and each blackberry was the size of an apple. Finally, on your last night before you reached the edge of the forest on the southern side, he took you to a grove where fireflies danced and spiralled with blue-green will-o-the-wisp fairies.

You crouched with him at the edge of the clearing, hardly daring to breathe as the lights winked and sparkled, coiling and twisting in and out of each other in an endlessly varied choreography. Beorn placed his palm at the small of your back to steady you, and you leaned further into his touch as the performance continued.

Eventually, on some intangible cue, the fireflies and fairies all rushed upwards towards the opening in the canopy above, speeding out like sparks from a campfire into the night, and leaving you and Beorn alone in the mossy glen.

“That was incredible,” you whispered when you finally got your breath back.

“I thought you would enjoy that,” he said. He surprised you by lowering his great wolf’s head and nuzzling his cheek against your shoulder. He rumbled a soft moan and closed his eyes.

You turned to look at him and brought your hand slowly to his cheek. “You’re so beautiful, Beorn,” you murmured. You hadn’t meant to speak your thoughts, and the moment you did, he froze. Before you could call the words back or formulate some lie to cover your embarrassment, Beorn sighed happily once more.

“I don’t think a human has ever called me ‘beautiful’ before,” he said with a shy laugh. His big, dark eyes stared intently at you in the dark, and you felt a prickle of arousal go through you. He inhaled and then nuzzled against you again.

“Beorn…” you gasped, your fingers tightening in his fur, tugging. “I… I want you…”

With another whining moan, he let his teeth rake over your throat, his tongue hot and wet against the cool night air on your skin, and you gasped, exposing your neck to him.

He growled at you and lowered you down onto your back, your cloak spread out beneath you amid the soft moss. “I want… I want to taste you,” he said in a deep, rough voice. His hands gripped your waist and you found your legs parting for him almost without a second thought. “Will you let me?”

“Gods, yes,” you grunted, and helped him undo the belt at your waist. He drew off your clothes delicately with his claws and your skin prickled into goosebumps.

He ran the rough pads of his paw-like hands up the inside of your thighs, his jaws loosely parted. He was panting slightly and you could see his white teeth glinting in the moonlight. He pressed his cold, wet nose against you and you jerked and bucked as he let his hot, rasping tongue lave over you; tasting you, savouring you.

His talon-tipped fingers tightened on your thighs, claws pricking, holding your legs open for him as he got to work. After a few strokes, his eyes rolled closed and he let out a deep, low-frequency growl that went right through you. He lavished attention on you until you were shaking and gasping, and he was unrelenting.

“Beorn, I’m going to come,” you gasped and his teeth just nudged against your skin for a moment, adding a perfect counterpoint to the rolling heat of his tongue and his breath. “You’re going to make me come.”

He hadn’t once stopped growling, and you weren’t sure he could speak until he grunted and removed his left hand from your thigh. You just about had enough strength to raise your head behind the pleasure buzzing through you, and you looked down the length of your body to see that he was working his own cock in his hand while still letting his tongue toy with you. Thick, red, and leaking all over his fingers, dripping freely onto the moss between his knees, his cock was hard and there was a knot forming at the base. He squeezed his hand around it but he leaned down over you again and you saw stars as his cold nose pressed against you with an insistent eagerness.

“Come for me,” he snarled through bared teeth. “Come for me.”

A few seconds later, your back arched and you came against the heat of his mouth. He spilled a heartbeat after you did, and you cracked an eye open to watch him throw his head back and howl.

Unabashed, he broadcast his pleasure to the forest, and you lay there and watched his cock pulse and spurt over his knuckles as he gripped the swollen knot hard. He made such a beautiful mess of himself, and he never took his other hand off your leg, keeping himself grounded through the roaring pleasure that tore through him in waves.

When he finally stopped coming, the howl faded from his throat, and he let his head drop down to regard you. He was breathing like he’d just raced across the forest, and his pupils were blown black and wide.

“You’re perfect,” he said. “Gods, but you’re perfect.”

You laughed quietly, fondly, and lay there dazed and sensitive and satisfied.

“Come back to me?” he asked in a whisper as he lay down beside you a while later and pulled you tight against his chest.

“What do you mean? I’m right here…”

You felt him shake his head a little. “When you’re done in the city. Will you come back to me?”

“Of course I will,” you promised, half-twisting in his embrace to look up at him. “Anyway, it’s all your fault that I’m going to the city with the world’s most expensive mushroom in my pocket!”

He laughed and held you tight, and when you parted at the edge of the forest the next day, he told you he would wait for you there until you returned.

Thanks for reading this story, and I hope you’ll consider reblogging it (as well as leaving a like) if you enjoyed it, since that will help others find it.

Take care, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year

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Hold My Life In Your Hands

Hannibal Lecter x GN!plus size reader

Hannibal has hurt hundreds of people with his hands but he could never hurt you, and yet you want him to

Warnings: smut, choking, allusions to Hannibal’s murders, rough sex, biting, marking kink, aftercare

WC: 1.4k

Minors DNI

Hannibal’s hands were a thing of beauty; tools for both destruction and creation. They were soft, the hands of a man who moisturised daily but callouses on the palm, built up from years of burns and working with knives. His fingers were long and thick, much like another part of his anatomy.

He knew how to use his hands well, he was a surgeon after all. He wore no rings, no jewelry that would hinder his work. He would wear a ring one day, that he promised you, but for now, his hands were as bare as his soul to you.

His hands guided you— a palm at the small of your back during dinner parties, your fingers intertwined during a midnight walk, gripping your plump thigh as he drove you around in his expensive car.

His hands controlled you— buried within you, stroking your sex, telling you that you couldn’t fall over the edge just yet, a firm hold on your wrists, pinning them helplessly above your head while he thrust into you.

But there was one thing he could never do with his hands, and that was to hurt you. He would not leave bruises or bites, he would never risk marring your perfect skin or risking your life. It was something he was insistent on, yet you could see the gleam in his eye, the darkness swirling within the golden amber that told you everything you needed to know.

He wanted to mark you, paint your skin with splotchy purple and yellow, to show the world that you were his entirely for all eternity.

“My darling, you’re doing so well for me.” His voice was level in your ear, controlled and much like he normally sounded. But you were the polar opposite. You were crumbling beneath him, strung out and shivering, consumed with pleasure.

And yet, it wasn’t enough, you needed more. You needed his rage, his anger, his darkness. “More.” You croaked, desperately clutching at his muscular back. He had your hips tilted up at the perfect angle to hit the small bundle of nerves deep within you that made you see stars.

“Tell me how my love.” He crooned, laying delicate kisses to the side of your head. Wet squelches echoed through the room, in time with Hannibal’s powerful thrusts. Your stomach twisted with pleasure. You burned for him, a fire only he could stoke.

You could not speak, your brain turning to mush with a particularly hard strike to your core. Instead, you did the only thing you could. Your fingers curled around his right wrist which had been planted firmly by your head.

He leaned back, just enough to allow you to do what you wished with his body. A pathetic whine escaped your lips at the loss of his naked skin against your torso but it did not deter your determination. His hold on the silk pillow beneath you went easy as you pulled it closer to you.

You could see his composure crumbling the closer his touch got to your overheated skin. His facade was falling away, like a porcelain mask, chip by chip. His weight shifted to his left side, providing a new angle at which to strike you. He knocked the breath from your lungs, replacing it with his essences, his smell, his taste.

Your insides twisted like you were almost at the top of the rollercoaster, waiting for the drop. But the edge was getting further and further away, you needed one last little push.

It happened too quickly for Hannibal to react, a simple tug against his wrist, and suddenly his huge hand was on your throat. His fingers unconsciously curled around the gentle curve of your windpipe, feeling the erratic beat of your pulse.

That one touch was enough to push the cart forward, the nose balancing precariously in the air as you waited for the fall. He tried to pull away, not trusting in himself.

“My life is yours” You managed to say between gasps, forcing his fingers to tighten around the delicate skin of your neck. Even in the dim lighting of your shared bedroom, you could clearly see how his eyes darkened.

He loomed over you. He shifted before you, no longer your caring, devoted partner, but a vicious panther, waiting for the right moment to strike. Hannibal was dangerous and you wanted to be consumed by it.

“Very well.” He snarled and your breath was ripped from you. A firm hand clamped on your wide hip, squeezing to the point of pain, just as his other pressed down, pinning you to the mattress. “You’re mine.”

It was violent, the way he used you. Shoving you up the bed with each thrust, the top of your head brushing the ornate bed frame as the rest of your body was held still. Oxygen filled your lungs in short bursts, just enough to keep you conscious but too little for you to catch your breath. He felt huge like this, his cock splitting you open even more than usual as you felt each and every vein and twitch inside of you.

Your limbs shook, muscles tensing at the precipice of your end. Your body was both freezing and on fire, black spots dotting your vision but he did not relent. “Please.” Only a whisper of the word could slip past your kiss-bitten lips with the last of the air in your lungs.

Hannibal dipped forward, his nose brushing along the length of your collarbone, inhaling the sweetness of your natural perfume—your sweat, your arousal. Then he bit down, hard. His teeth carved into your flesh, not enough to cut, but enough to hurt, to brand.

They travelled across your chest, burning himself into your skin. The pleasure mounted, like bricks stacking in a wall.

His grip got firmer and he gave one last punch inside you, shattering the brittle foundation of your orgasm. Your eyes rolled back and your tongue lolled from your mouth in a vain attempt to draw more breath.

Just as the blackness tinged the edge of your vision and the rush of hormones tapered off, Hannibal released your throat, letting air rush back into you. “Hanni!” You called, another wave of pleasure washing over you.

His chest vibrated with a feral growl, your walls clamping around him like a vice. He ripped himself from you, the hand that had held your fragile life, took his wet length and began pumping furiously. You reached for him and he did not hesitate to hold you, your fingers intertwining as his own end approached.

“Mine.” Was all he said before his back bowed forward and he finished on your plump stomach. His cum was hot against your already overheated skin and yet, you shivered. He was always careful not to mar you in any way, even staining you with his seed was too much. But now, you felt marked, owned entirely by him.

Hannibal shuddered, sweat dripping from his brow, his silvery hair out of place. He looked wild and finally free. “Wow.” Was all you could say with your raspy voice. And as suddenly as the beast appeared, it retreated back into its cage, to await his next meal.

“You did so well for me my darling.” He cooed, cupping your full cheek. He tilted your head to the side to lay a loving kiss to your cheek.

He slipped away, gracefully moving through the room. You stayed on the bed, melting into the damp sheets. You knew better than to follow him, a firm suggestion on his part from the beginning of your sexual relationship to stay in place and let him take care of your needs.

He returned shortly, a wet cloth in one hand, a cold glass of water with a slice of cucumber in the other which were promptly placed on the dark oak table beside the bed. With gentle guidance, he helped you to sit up against the pillows and then gave you the glass.

As you began to take careful sips, he used the cloth to wipe away the grime left behind by your coupling. “So beautiful.” He reassured.

Soon, the water was gone and you were clean. The sheets were drawn back and the pillows arranged. Hannibal took his rightful spot in the center of the bed and you in his arms. His hands held you close as exhaustion took over and you peacefully slipped into sleep.

“Thank you.” He murmured into your hair as he followed behind you.

Yes, Hannibal’s hands were beautiful.

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rustedhearts · 9 months

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severed lamb: part iv: white horse (pastor!steve x fem!reader)

summary: all your sinning plagues wyndgate with a summer storm. pastor steve tempts you with a drive home in the dark. you know it's wrong, but you just can't stay away.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♰ severed lamb masterlist ♰ ♰ main masterlist ♰

tags: religious imagery/trauma, age gap (steve is 35, reader is 19), heavy petting, manipulation, abuse of power, coercion, a whole lot of god guilt.

recommended listening: if you know anything about anything, you'll listen to family tree by ethel cain.

♰ wyndgate, georgia, august 1981 ♰

The rain pattering down on the old tin roof of Wyndgate's Dairy Mart sounded like hail. The wheels of the cart squealed and hissed their way down the linoleum tiles of the bread aisle, metal jostling and clanking with every hurried step. You snatched a loaf of Wonderbread and tossed it in the back, rushing on before you could be stopped by somebody's mama asking where the cereal was.

Ever since you went to the church last week to see Pastor Steve, you felt like God set a pair of eyes on you. They followed you everywhere, scrutinizing your every move. Sometimes it was the gas station clerk handing you a pack of bubble gum. Sometimes it was your mama's friend Sal lounging on the sofa with a beer on his thigh. Other times, you were just lyin' in bed, feeling some phantom stare burn a hole into your head.

God was watching you. You could feel His judgement pouring down on you like that heavy rain. Drenching you in terrible, sickening guilt for all that sinnin'.

But when the lights went out and the world went dark, and no eyes could find you to set their judgement upon you, you awed. Warmth touched your lips where Steve's had been, buzzing and tingling like bee stings. Fingertips skating over the plump flesh, you felt the surface where Steve had set his tongue. How it wriggled and slithered, cleaning away remnants of sweet cherry blood.

Slipping the first knuckle past your lips, you pinched your eyes shut and imagined they were his. His hand heavy and fingers slender, skin hot and pulsing with blood, calluses firm and tough on your tongue. You wondered what sort of work a preacher got up to with hands like that. He taste came with a little tang of old sweat.

"Whoa!"

You skirted to a stop, jolting at the pull of the cart in your hands as it slammed into another. Eyes free of lustful fog, you gaped at your victim with warm cheeks and teary eyes. The woman, cradling a young child against her hip, glared at you beneath a set of blunt, blonde bangs.

"I-I'm so sorry, ma'am," you stammered, hand flying to your chest to fondle the gold cross.

She swerved the nose of her cart around yours, eyes sharp and narrow the whole way. "Best watch where you're goin', girl."

The woman whizzed past you with the child, disappearing down the aisle with the whoosh and squeak of rusty, damp cart wheels. You heard the child babbling something nonsensical an aisle over. Your heart hammered heavy in your throat, pulsing at the back of your neck. The Lord was watching you—and now, He was making a fool of you, too. More punishment for those filthy thoughts.

You adjusted, cleared your throat, and pushed the cart on. You had a list of things to get for Mama, and she wouldn't be pleased to know you were dilly-dallying.

Mama had been belligerent all week. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner consisted of cigarettes and wine. It was up to you to cook a meal, but trying to feed it to her felt like shoving applesauce at an infant. Mama's belligerence came with a temper that waxed and waned. You knew never which mother you were gonna get.

Today, she was quiet. She scribbled a grocery list, smacked a few bills on the table, and told you to 'get.' The sky only started to blacken and cloud when you were walking into town, toes aching and calves sore. If the trek to town wasn't bad enough, all the twirling you'd been doing only made it worse.

You weren't sure you could dance the sins away, but you did your best to try. To combat the lustful thoughts and memories of what you'd done at the church, you went to the barn and slipped on your new pointe shoes. But the feel of fresh, smooth silk on your skin, and the tough, gruesome squeeze of hard glue around your toes just reminded you of him. Those sensations were a gift from him.

On more than one occasion in the past week did you collapse to the sticky barn floor with heaving breaths, throbbing between your legs and writhing for air. Flesh slick with sweat, beading along the backs of your knees and crooks of your elbows, fingers sliding through the wetness to slip beneath your shorts. It was only when you brushed the soft, sensitive button beneath your underwear that you recoiled and gasped. The pulsing arousal shriveled away like petals wilting in the blazing sun, replaced with sharp-toothed disgust derived from the guilt only God and Georgia could provoke.

You swallowed thickly as you turned the corner toward the dairy aisle. The milk carton came with a black and white photograph of Bethanne Lee, a girl missing since January. She was only two years younger than you. You set the carton in the cart and turned her face away.

♰ ♰

A few miles in the direction of home, the sky shuddered with thunder. A streak of lightning slashed through the clouds in menacing white light, and then the rain came down again. You waited it out for fifteen minutes under the awning at the Dairy Mart, clutching the paper bags full of food with shaking fists. Now, in the shower, the paper thinned.

Shrieking, you did your best to shield them from the storm as you picked up the pace. Sandals slapping against wet gravel, squeaking over slick grass, you huffed and puffed and cursed your sinning for putting you in this predicament. This was more punishment from God, no doubt.

The crunch of tires rolling over the road, muffled by the noisy smack of raindrops on the ground, caused you to halt. Headlights beaconed through the hazy darkness. The world usually so sun-bleached and yellow, faded at the edges by time and rust, appeared grey and blue in its current plague. The bright car lights brought a sliver of white to it, blinding you until the vehicle screeched to a stop beside you.

The window cranked down, and dangling through the gap came Pastor Steve's leather-banded watch. Sleeves rolled to his elbow, cheeks flushed and swollen with heat, he tapped two fingers on the wet car door and passed you a smile.

"Need a ride?"

Temptation. The Lord's Prayer gathered on the tip of your tongue just at the sight of him. The burgundy of his sleek BMW deepened in the world's state of darkness. The swampy green and gold of his eyes seemed to adopt a muddy brown. And his skin, sun-kissed bronze by the Georgian sun, held a glowing shine.

Steve met his cheek to his shoulder, a coy grin toying with the corner of his lip. "Delilah. Come get in the car."

He cooed. He called to you the way you coax a stray to come close. Gentle, tempting, a smoothness that enticed. You couldn't blame your feet for stepping forward, arms hugged tight around the paper bags soaked thin with rainwater.

"Come on," Steve chuckled, patting the leather of he passenger seat beside him. "I ain't gon' bite ya."

Once you were next to him, Pastor Steve rolled up the windows. The patter of rain grew muffled, pounding on the roof of the car with sharp metallic pings. The heat in the car thickened immediately, and the murmuring whir coming from the vents led you to believe the air conditioning didn't work much. Your thighs suctioned to the seats, clamped close together, gathering pools of rainwater dripping from the grocery bags.

"Your mama send you to the store?"

You glanced at him, bobbing your head with a deep swallow. He switched hands on the wheel, and the whoosh of air came with a waft of his smell. Your stomach clenched at the presence of it, thighs tightening.

"Poor thing out in all this rain." Steve's mouth drooped into a frown, but his eyes were bright with an invisible grin.

Your shoes squeaked together on the car floor. The dry spots of the paper bags crinkled as you reached over them for your necklace. In the driver seat, Steve tore his eyes away from the road to watch you. Something about the way you fondled that cross—delicate, soothing ministrations—always made him twitch.

Before he could withhold himself, his hand darted across the center console toward your lap. His big palm swept over your thigh just beneath the hem of your dress, smearing droplets of rain into your skin. Your body gave a jerk, a sharp gasp tumbling from your lips. You caught sight of his knuckles over your lap just as his fingers slipped away.

"A lil' wet there," Steve remarked, lip quirked with amusement at the shortness of your breath.

"I-I—Pastor y-you can't—"

His hand returned, slithering over your leg until it disappeared beneath the skirt of your dress. You froze, watching with blurred vision as his palm traced the swell of your thigh. Your chest felt like it was caving in, lungs shriveling and leaving no space for air as the pads of his fingers brushed the elastic of your underwear.

Your body began to tremble: calves quaking against the seat, knees wobbling, stomach twisting and clenching. His index grazed the front of your underwear where slickness pooled.

"Here, too." His voice was quiet, airy with shallowed breath and wonderment.

But when you gazed over, his eyes were on the road.

The tip of his finger pressed firmly against your sensitive flesh cupped behind the thin fabric of your underwear, yanking a sharp gasp from your throat. You throbbed against his touch, hips shifting—you weren’t sure if they were aiming away from him or toward him.

Head turning toward the window, you caged your lip between your teeth to stifle the chance of more noises as the pastor’s touch roughened. Two fingers now, pushing into your pulsing core over cotton, sticky with the thrill. Steve took this moment to gaze over at you, delighting in your flushed skin and twisting body. He felt it settle into his own body—that aching need, that festering desire. Lust overwhelmed him. His pants strained around the crotch with his excitement.

“Does that feel good, Delilah,” Steve drawled, tone low and silky.

You inhaled deeply, trying to see past the fuzzy spots clouding your vision, trying to work your way through the tingles attacking your bones. Fingers curling into fists, you shifted back into a straight position in the passenger seat, muscles constricting tensely as pleasure swished around inside you. The grocery bags seemed to have clambered to the floor somewhere in the daze.

“W-we can’t—“

Steve disrupted the barrier: slipping a finger beneath the elastic band of your underwear, and bringing it to the smooth skin beneath. The warmth that waited for him made him huff a laugh, throaty and perverted.

He fixed you with a soft, endearing look, all round eyes and pouted mouth. “Can’t what? Can’t feel good? Doesn’t it feel good, sweetheart?”

Swallowing thickly, you nodded despite every bone in your body telling you to deny it. This was the devil overtaking you, making you give over to this sinful pleasure. Shame jolted in your body at the same wavelength desire did—they melded together until you could barely discern the difference anymore.

“How can somethin’ that feels so good be a sin?” Steve cooed, sweeping his finger through the pool of gooey cream collecting beneath your panties, brushing over the most sensitive part of your body.

Back curling off the seat, you mewled into the roof of the car and squeezed your eyes shut.

“Anybody ever touched you like this, Delilah?”

You shook your head fervently, banging against the seat with your thrashing. Your nails bit into your palms with a piercing nip. His voice, deep and lush like a sticky summer evening in the woods, only intensified the churning and whirling in your belly. You weren’t sure how much longer you could contain yourself. Heat swelled in your cheeks painfully, brought sweat beads to your limbs. You wanted to let go. But—

“N-no, never—never! M’ a good girl, Pastor,” you cried, bucking up into his hand as two fingers slid down toward your pulsating hole.

Steve swept his tongue over his teeth, licking away a grin as he placed his eyes back on the road. “Oh, honey. I know.”

Your breaths shortened to hoarse little gasps, wheezy and shallow. Pleasure wound its choking knot and you weren’t sure you could hold back from it much longer. Steve took note of the way your fists flexed and trembled, the way your face almost purpled with fight. He dipped the start of one finger into the tightness of your hole and watched your mouth gape with a silent cry you refused to let loose.

Always the good girl, always the angel. Couldn’t you sin just for him, the way he’s sinning for you?

“You’re right with The Lord, Delilah. I’m sure He’ll forgive you this once. Come on, sweetheart, it’s alright.”

Heaving, you shook your head again, giving a little hiccuped cry. “I-I can’t.”

Sighing, Steve tore his hand from between your legs and whipped the wheel to the right. The car jumbled and jostled over the shoulder of the road where the asphalt fell to grass. He parked beneath a lonesome tree standing tall in the field of grass and wildflowers. Once the engine cut, you realized how hard it was still raining. Beating down furiously on the windshield and metal roof, smacking agains the windows that fogged with the damp heat of your overworking bodies.

“C’mere, honey," he huffed.

Steve spun you in your seat, widening your legs with one push. Another gasp flew from your mouth as coolness met your core. Steve’s face remained steadily sure as he pushed your panties aside once more and returned his fingers to your aching, weeping cunt. A dull pain gathered in the nape of your neck as your head tipped back against the window, but all you could focus on were the width of the pastor’s fingers between your thighs, delivering a delicious quake. His thumb rolled and rubbed against your pearl, unleashing a sound never heard from you.

“Ask the Lord for forgiveness, Delilah. Ask the Lord for forgiveness and let go.”

As your face pinched with a wailing cry, Steve settled his eyes upon your sweat-slick body, writhing just for him. Planting one hand on the window above your head, the pastor fixed himself to hover above you, body heat ghosting your clammy skin like a breezy sheet. His breathing shallowed to mimic yours, overtaken by the rise and fall of your breasts, shuddering with frayed waves of pleasure still sparking inside you. The gold cross around your neck glimmered in the dim, grey light of the storm.

You gushed over his fingers, glossing his palm as he continued his gentle, massaging ministrations. Your cries fizzled to whimpers, deliriously searching for something to hold to find balance. When you lifted a shaky hand to his chest, Steve found pity on you and removed his hand. It swept over your thigh, down toward your knee, dragging strokes of sticky spend in its wake; until finally, it slid behind your knee to cup the pudgy flesh of your thigh.

Using his grip on you and the steady surface of the window, Steve dipped down until his mouth brushed your cheek. The skin there was hot, and soft like sheep skin, and he just couldn't contain the urge to encompass it with his mouth. A firm kiss, lips parted just enough to gather your taste on his tongue. It was the frenzy the stiff heat and sweet stench of your body delivered that had him baring his teeth and scraping them over your flesh.

You hissed, hands coming to feel the fabric of Steve's crisp button down soaked through with sweat. The cotton clung to your hands where you balled it into fists, squeezing in time with the dull, pin-pricking ache in your cheek from the pastor's incisors.

The moments of shuffling and readjusting came hazily, now flashes of colors and shapes in your memory when you thought back. Pulling your underwear back into place, cool where slickness gathered and soaked through. Smoothing your hair down, rubbing your fingers over the faint, sore scrapes on your cheek. Watching Pastor Steve put the car into drive, feeling it teeter back onto the road. Rain splashing with the force of the windshield wipers. The milk jug between your legs leaking condensation onto the floor.

Pastor Steve pulled into the end of your drive, where he parked in the soiled dirt and brought his hand to the back of your seat. You gathered the groceries back into your lap and gazed over at the pastor.

He smiled, flashing those sharp white teeth. "Say hi to your Mama for me, hmm?"

The walk up the rest of the drive was goopy and slick, and your shoes were caked in soupy mud by the time you reached the steps, hair dripping and dress soaked through. On the porch swing, lit cigarette resting in the hand on her knee, Mama watched the pastor's license plate zoom down the road. You stopped at the top step, petrified like stone. The sudden silence brought the rain back in a melodious spat.

"Y' get the eggs?" Her tone held the robotic grumble of Southern dissatisfaction.

Impassive, but frosted with shame.

"Y-yes, Mama."

Your mother raised the cigarette to her mouth, holding it at bay.

"Well alright now."

♰ ♰

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