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ataraxiaspainting · 3 months

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Icarus.

Yan (Emperor) Zhongli x F Reader.

Synopsis: You were taught ever since you opened your eyes to never go against your god. So why do you wish now that you have never opened them at all?

Warnings: Yandere themes, major power imbalances, manipulation, future forced marriage, some violence/gore, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 3k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Little Dark Age by MGMT

As the World Caves In by Matt Maltese

The Other Side Of Paradise by Glass Animals

All Eyes On Me by Bo Burnham

Space Song by Beach House

Murders by Miracle Musical

Tongues & Teeth by The Crane Wives

Teacher’s Pet by Melanie Martinez

A Pearl by Mitski

Isabella’s Lullaby by Takahiro Obata

*~*~*~*

“‘You know that I love you.’ And despite herself, Coraline nodded. It was true. The other mother loved her. But she loved Coraline as a miser loves money, or a dragon loves its gold. In the other mother's button eyes, Coraline knew that the other mother loved her as a possession, nothing more, a tolerated pet whose behavior was no longer amusing.” – Neil Gaiman, Coraline

*~*~*~*

There is no sin greater than to be a bird.

To be a bird is to be devoid of all burdens, soaring above all who are shackled by them, like a warden overseeing prisoners, or the sweetest and ripest peaches up on the highest of branches so no one can reach it. They can go anywhere, birds, with the winds at their call, the very embodiment of freedom itself, something your god has taught all his people to be wary of. Freedom can be a blessing, he told one of his counselors once, but it can also cause humans to be too conceited. There is no sin greater than to be a bird because all others will be envious. Envy is also a sin, one so common that even Archons are said to possess it. Sin gives birth to more sin, more suffering, and thus only the original that birthed it all shall be punished by Celestia’s fury.

There is no greater sin than to be a bird, so the gods put in place cages, made to make those trapped by gold and chains and other things entirely. Birds who are not lured into such traps are dealt with by lightning, making them fall back down to the ground below, the last thing they see is the very sky that punished them. The sky, the stars, the moon, the sun… the entire world will be against you when you are a bird.

It will be that way until you die. The world hates birds and the way they fly and soar. Birds are meant for cages, or to be struck down with their corpses made into trophies.

There is no title greater than to be a hunter.

The sin; to be a bird, freedom… the title; to be a hunter, despotism.

To shoot, to stab, to twist until the prey bursts, is the way of someone whose greatest sin is doing good for this world.

To bleed, to be trapped, to be killed and put on display for all to see, that is what a bird’s purpose truly is, in the eyes of the divine.

They are different, quite so, like different ripples in lakes of mixed blood and water.

You can almost hear them, can’t you?

Celestia favors the strong. Celestia despises the weak. It makes sense to most people, those who were born into power be it money made from blood or strength made from blood. They don’t see the way the world works. The way flies feast upon rotting meat and are soon to be eaten by something bigger. It makes sense for most people, but not for you. Despite everything you have ever been taught from word of mouth, life on the streets teaches you otherwise. For everything you have endured, you have learned that you are not weak. In any case, quite the opposite.

You don’t pray anymore with everyone else, as they keep reciting such things over and over again at the states positioned throughout Liyue as if the emperor would listen to them.

“O Almighty Geo Archon, give us your blessings for the many moons ahead of us all!” They would hold hands with their bodies being placed in circles around the sculptures. They close their eyes altogether, to not see the sacrifices trapped between them at the monuments, the last thing they see is the Lord of Geo’s face, looking down at them with a stone-cold glare laced with eerie delight. “O Almighty Geo Archon, give us your blessings for the many moons ahead of us all! O Almighty Geo Archon, give us your blessings for the many moons ahead of us all!”

To be praying and to be preying are two quite different things, but to the people of Liyue, there is no difference. Blood seeps into the earth all the same, regardless of who sheds it. So, as evidence that the people of Liyue do indeed bow down to Celestia’s every whim, they bring birds of all kinds and steal them of all they have. Their feathers make for excellent clothing, their bones make for stellar weaponry, and their feet make for charms of good luck. Celestia only smiles down upon the strong, after all. Celestia despises freedom because, without the divine, humans would have nothing to leash them onto rationality and laws. Perhaps that is why Mondstadt is very much in chaos now. Their god was said to have betrayed Celestia by giving his people forbidden knowledge of how nature originally ran its course, causing an uproar among the citizens.

No one knows what happened to the god of Mondstadt after that.

Was he smitten down? Did his people turn on him? No one in Liyue knows for certain, as people of Mondstadt are forbidden from entering the land said to be made up of the purest of gold.

“O Almighty Geo Archon, give us your blessings for the many moons ahead of us all!”

That is the first thing you hear when you wake up, huddled in a corner to prevent yourself from getting even more wet from the rain. You assume that maybe it will be the last thing you hear when you close your eyes for good.

*~*~*~*

You grew up in Qiaoying Village and, once you grew up, got exiled from Qiaoying Village. You stood out, which no one saw in a good light. You were a mischievous, rule-breaking child, always stealing Jadevein Tea Eggs and both tea and tea sets made of fine porcelain. Your older brother taught you lessons far too valuable and unique for the traditionalist settings of Qiaoying Village, lessons like how to pick the elderly’s door’s locks, how to properly identify which pockets had the most Mora, and how to make alleyways a labyrinth for those who chase you.

Your older brother, though, did not partake in thievery himself. You suppose that might have been the first warning sign of many more to come. He made you, a child about half his age, do his dirty work for him. He always hoarded the rewards afterward, and if you got caught or he got caught with whatever treasure you had given him, he would pretend to scold you for going against the way of the Qiaoying. He said it was just pretend, but that look in his eyes still haunts you to this very day. As you got older, though, you got dumber. You crossed a line with everyone. You decided to steal from a Fontainian duke.

It was a foolish decision. Fontainians are known for their high sense of justice, and their tunnel vision when it comes to crimes and punishments. But you were just a child, were you not?

You couldn’t help it. You were just a child. That is what you told yourself then, and it is what you tell yourself now.

No one helped you then, and no one helps you now. Hell, it would be a miracle, a blessing from Celestia, if your older brother came to Liyue Harbor to visit you. But he never loved you, did he? He never loved you, and you never hated him until you saw him for what he truly is. A petty servant of Madam Mei with a spine thinner than that of a twig. He was a coward then, and likely still a coward now. Perhaps it would have been noble of him, while you were still an infant, to use that pocket knife he always carried around. It would have been better for you, for you to not know anything you know about him now.

But he was a coward, your older brother. The person who taught you everything about thievery is also now the person who taught you how important it is to keep your cards close. Life on the streets calls for both, you suppose. Liyue Harbor may not be the friendliest for the homeless, but at the very least it had pockets to swipe into when no one was looking. Old habits die hard. You ended up relying on every memory of the past, no matter how bitter or how deceivingly sweet they were. You bore it. You bore it all. Every memory, every fragment of a lie, and every fragment of a half-truth. Life is never so simple after all, is it?

Your life was never perfect, and therefore still is not now. But you know deep in your heart that you would prefer this life over seeing your older brother’s face ever again.

But now, with eyes brighter than amber staring above you as you lay, your arm broken, you wish that your brother had taught you some fighting skills instead of everything else he taught you.

But he was a coward, and so are you.

To be fair, though, he never met the emperor and never thought that he would. So did you. No one in Qiaoying Village did, most likely. It was so far from the proclaimed harbor made of gold and trader’s blood and prayers. This was where the emperor lived, in his castle in the mountains surrounding Lingju Pass and Mount Tianheng. It was made up of the finest gold and wood and jewels. Only the best for the emperor, while people like you get mere pebbles. That is why, when you saw yet another stranger in a white cloak roaming around the alleyways, you attempted to strike. Your mistake.

Your mistake.

You were on the ground in an instant, your arm breaking so loudly an elderly man on his deathbed could hear it.

The stranger’s eyes glittered like gold.

Frozen gold, perhaps, with how he was staring down at you with such disappointment.

So, he stared down at you.

You stared down at your arm.

You should have known better. But you are just someone trying to live, are you not? It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. But that white cloak the man is wearing with the sigil of geo on the back, one of the few symbols of the emperor himself, should have made you not attempt to pickpocket him. You should have known better. You really should have known better. Should you apologize? You are already as good as dead though, aren’t you?

Does a death sentence await you?

Life? Death? Prison? Life. Death. Prison.

Escape.

You have to escape.

But the emperor seems to know what you are doing, what you are planning.

So he stops you with a simple hand raised, and pillars of geo appear out of nowhere, trapping you in the corner. Now there is nowhere to run.

He stares down at you.

You stare down at your feet, all mangled up from a life made of thievery and poverty.

He doesn’t speak. Neither do you. You prefer it that way.

You are in a cage. But he is not.

Please.

Please don’t kill me.

Please.

*~*~*~*

Is it a sin to indulge? Perhaps it is, perhaps it is not. Perhaps it depends. Is the indulgence centered in reality or fantasy? This escape attempt, perhaps, is both.

Like the many that came before it, the only sounds you can hear is the rain, the water falling from the glass windows like teardrops, and sometimes you can swear you hear the sound of someone weeping. Despite everything you have gone through though, you do not weep with them, whoever they are. You only keep stepping on ahead for a brighter future, one where you sneak off to Sumeru, a land that prioritizes knowledge over riches. You’d have a better life there than here, you think. Anywhere but here you would run off to actually, even if it was Snezhnaya.

You are treated well, too well.

You still don’t know why instead of throwing you in the dungeons, Morax placed your unconscious body in one of the many, many guest rooms that were spread about in his castle.

You are treated far too well, almost to the point that it is maddening. Everything is so perfect, from the morning birds outside your window that wake you up every morning when it just so happens to be time for breakfast to the hairbrush you use to put your hair up when it is time to sleep, the design intricately laced with jade and topaz. Perfect, perfect, perfect. It’s maddening, sickening, how perfect everything is. You wish he had just put you in a cell because at least then everything would not have been so planned out for you, even the type of flowers you saw in the gardens that week.

“Damn it all…”

In your opinion, the clothes you received today were more intricate than usual. The sleeves are puffed and transition from white to a deep teal color. The dress itself showcases delicate lace patterns of glaze lilies around the waist and wrists, while the skirt is impractically long for any running. Strangely, the inside of the skirt features a constellation pattern, though it seems to be a design meant for your eyes alone. The purpose of this starry sky motif remains unclear. The dress, like everything else, appears flawless and fits you perfectly, almost as if it was tailored specifically for you. Given Morax's wealth, you can't help but entertain the possibility. However, the overwhelming perfection of it all borders on madness. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect, so damn perfect.

Today, you were not given shoes, presumably due to the rain and the consequent cancellation of your garden visit with Morax, where you typically indulge in tea and wine. As you approached the staircase leading to the dining room, however, the guards obstructed your path. Their actions were gentle, but their words were not. They formed a human barricade, preventing your descent. One guard clicked their tongue disapprovingly, while the other remained silent. Perhaps they harbored some disdain towards you. The servants in this establishment either treated you with utmost care or completely disregarded your presence, so it was not entirely surprising that the guards displayed a semblance of dislike.

The real surprise was you not being allowed to go to the dining room to eat.

“The emperor wants you to stay in your room for the time being. He shall see you shortly there.”

So, you went back, albeit muttering curses along the way. Due to your lack of shoes and the guards not even allowing you to go downstairs, this escape attempt is as short-lived as a moth flying much too close to a flame.

As you were told, Morax came in his usual attire, black and brown robes with a geo sigil on the back.

“...”

“I have been told that you have been getting a bit too curious with your wandering.”

Ah, straight to the point, it would seem.

There is no point trying to beat around the bush when it comes to Morax. “It is not like there is anything else to do here.”

He sits beside you on the bed, not too close but not too far either. A perfect balance. “I can give you other activities to do if you would like. I can also answer some questions you have since you’ll be living here from now on.”

“...This isn’t temporary…” You look down at the arm he broke, a time which feels like a millennium ago. “Am I being charged?” Your question is quietly said. “Aren’t thieves simply sent to cells for a few moons?”

His chuckle was unexpected, causing a slight surprise. Morax, who was typically expressionless, wore a smile on his face. Despite the possibly good intentions behind it, the sight and sound were unsettling and made your skin crawl.

“...You don’t tell me anything.” You whisper under your breath. That much is clear. Despite Morax's little attempts to conceal it, his secrecy is unmistakable. You can't help but feel like a naive child stating the obvious.

“You are here for multiple reasons. For instance… you remind me of someone. As such, you must have questions, if you are anything like her.” His eyes glaze over you, from the top of your head where your hair is half put up with a hairpin to the anklet just hovering over your right foot. “All humans are born with an innate sense to pry. I won’t judge, as I am an Archon.” Are his words heartfelt? “Through my veins flow gold, but yours flow with sanguine, life, and desires.”

His hand reaches forward, but he does not touch you. “You must see yourself as better than us because of this. Am I correct?”

“My feelings are not as monochrome as they seem to you. They are complex, quite so. But you are right, in some regard.”

“This is why I cannot stand the so-called divine.”

“Another reason as to why you are here. You are a sleeper of such, and I intend to help you open your eyes to the truth.”

You look at his eyes, seeing all the horrors within their depths.

The emperor known as Morax possesses eyes of pure gold, along with attractive features and pale, rosy lips that curl into a sickly sweet smile. Your body instinctively reacts, urging you to flee before your mind can fully comprehend the situation. However, your brain, awakening and analyzing the situation, is interrupted by the overpowering force of instinct, echoing the same warning as your body: the charming smile is a mere facade, reminiscent of something unsettlingly artificial. It is akin to a sculpture with painted skin and eyes or a doll with exaggerated, intricate features. This man, with his literal golden eyes, his potentially persuasive words, and his captivating yet unnerving countenance, is someone you cannot trust.

Desperate to escape, you attempt to run, only to find that arms and hands, seemingly made of stone, emerge from the walls, gripping and restraining your own. Two of these strong hands ascend, slithering towards the center of your back, forcefully pushing you down into a bow, while you remain compelled to gaze upwards. Your focus remains fixated solely on the emperor's eyes, observing the eloquent patterns of gold within them.

The caress of their touch is tender upon your cheeks, unlike solid ones that demand for you to stay.

“You shall become my consort and see the gates of Celestia for yourself. Humans are made to worship, after all. The divine are made to simply awaken those who have strayed off the path of destiny.”

*~*~*~*

To possess the gift of sight, encompassing all, is the gravest transgression one can commit. Thus, those winged creatures who lack this awareness are banished to the depths of the earth, their vision, their literal eyes stripped away until their cries reverberate to the surface, where the emperor Morax shall pronounce the ultimate verdict.

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star-girl69 · 3 months

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Your Girl

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: late at night, you and clarisse get to know one another.

a/n: ykw i dont even know what i write anymore just enjoy it i truly just listen to the wind oh my god

Your Girl - Lana Del Rey (Unreleased)

warnings: im sorry im obsessed w the nightmare trope, friends to lovers MEYOW, HURT COMFORT, clarisse just wants to KISS, light tension, very light and fluffy tho…. not a lot of angst tbh, POSSESSIVE CLARISSE I SCREAMED, mutual pining YESSSSS, they’re in love but they don’t think the other could be in love w them, clarisse knows what she wants and sets out to get it, monsters- again it’s a drakon bc i’m evil, mentions of death, swearing, mentions of weapons, weed and smoking, substance abuse idk if it’s addiction my health teacher would be so disappointed, shotgunning weed, idk what’s happening honestly we’re all along for the ride, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

You don’t know where Clarisse gets it from, but she has good weed.

They’re these perfectly little rolled blunts, with some sort of amazing concoction inside- you can’t even be bothered to care that it’s bad for you. Not when it makes you feel so good, not when it makes everything else fade away.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Sitting in the woods, leaning against a rock covered in moss, staring up at the stars. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you’re just here next to each other. But tonight, you think you took one too many hits, so you’re feeling a little sentimental.

“I would fucking die without you, Clarisse.”

She snorts. “Yeah, probably.”

“No, no, not just like- because you’re so strong, and stuff, but because of this fucking weed. I can’t sleep without it, y’know.”

She hums.

“And, like, you need sleep to live, or else your brain will like eat itself, or something ridiculous. Did you know that?”

She looks at you, mouth curved into an unimpressed smile, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t, and I care so much. Thanks for telling me, leech.”

“That’s mean,” you huff.

“Then stop leeching off of me and stealing my weed.”

Clarisse always looks so pretty in the moonlight. You would never admit that to anyone, but in the dark when your head is all hazy- you know she’s pretty. She’s beautiful, if you’re being honest, but she’s also your dealer- you can’t risk upsetting her. But still, sometimes you’re not sure how she isn’t a daughter of Aphrodite.

But you know better than anyone else that she gets everything from Ares, like she’s a carbon copy of him.

She gets her precision, her strength, her tactical mind, her rolling storm of emotions from him.

Except, there’s a softness in her. Only here, in the moonlight. You don’t know if it’s you or the weed, but you like to think it’s you. You like to think that Clarisse likes you as much as you like her, not just tolerates you for your mediocre company.

She’s sitting with one foot planted onto the ground, hair pulled back all messy, her arm balancing on her knee. The joint is held out conveniently towards you, lazily in between her fingers, so you flip yourself onto your stomach and reach out with open lips.

She smiles and flips the joint around, placing it onto your lips. Your close your eyes and your mouth, breathing in deeply. Gods, does it taste horrible, but you love it too much.

You pull back and breathe out the smoke.

“You love me, and my weed-stealing tendencies.”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” she rolls her eyes.

—-

Clarisse probably trains more than any other demigod at camp. Thirty minutes after dinner, like clockwork, you can find her heading to the field where all the sparring dummies live.

Clarisse is probably your only true friend at camp. You stick to yourself for the most part, hang out with your siblings, but besides for that it’s Clarisse. And she’s the same way. She hangs out with her siblings, and then you. Of course- everyone at Camp knows her name and her ruthless reputation.

You’re unknown, she’s known. She’s the best fighter you’ve ever seen, you’re mediocre, compared to her. She helps you at every turn, you’re the one getting helped by her. She’s mean to everyone, and you’re kind to whoever happens upon you.

You force each other to bring out the other sides of yourself no one gets to see. Clarisse gets to be soft, you get to be loud and annoying. You’re friends, but you both get something out of it.

She’s your friend, your dealer, your savior.

If the first day you came to camp, running through the woods with a drakon hot on your heels and your mouth split open into a scream- maybe Clarisse and her siblings wouldn’t have turned around and noticed the drakon.

Of course, Clarisse was the one who actually killed it, and she was the one who hoisted you up from where you had collapsed, breathing heavily. She was the one who actually made sure you weren’t hurt while your satyr protector panicked about having to face the Cloven Council.

She was the one who found you in the middle of the night, that drakon hissing in your ear, she was the one who gave you the claw she had pried from it’s dead body, she was the one who told you it was dead and nothing could hurt you in Camp.

“Clarisse!” you call, running towards her. Most campers like to wind down after dinner, so the field is empty.

“Leech,” she says when you reach her, leaning her spear against a dummy and stretching her arms above her head.

You always come everyday. You ask her the same question.

“Do you have it?”

She digs under her armor, pulling out the small cloth containing the blunt. “You would probably go insane if I didn’t.”

You feel calmer just looking at it. You smile sheepishly up at her.

“You know I can’t sleep without it, Clarisse.”

She looks away, stuffing it back under her armor, against her stomach.

“Maybe you should try and skip one night.”

You scoff. “I don’t feel like pulling an all-nighter, Clarisse.”

She nods, but her face is riddled with concern. “Okay, angel,” she mutters, so low you can barely hear it. But you do. You hear her call you angel, and you turn away instead of slamming your lips into hers.

—-

After that first night, you slept with that claw tight into your hand. And it was fine. You still had the occasional nightmare, but every demigod had those. But the older you got, the more monsters you learned about, the more comfortable you got with being a demigod- the more the nightmares came. Knowing the drakon was dead didn’t help, and the nightmares got worse and worse until Clarisse found you again one night.

You had drifted apart from her. She had her life and you had hers, but ever since you’ve been bonded by the nights.

She wrapped her arms around you and let you cry, mumbling about how she was the strongest demigod at camp, and there was the barrier, and nothing would ever get through to you.

She was soft in that moment. And you could tell she regretted it, because she ignored you for the next few days until one of her siblings pushed you to the ground. She appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his shirt, yelling that if he ever touched you again, she’d fucking kill him.

While he sputtered and asked why she cared about some stupid weak girl, she helped you up and said: “She’s my girl.”

And since that day 3 months ago, you’ve always been her girl. Neither of you really knew what that meant, except you liked being around each other and you liked this transaction. Clarisse liked owning something. You liked belonging to someone.

That’s what this entire friendship is about- convenience.

So, that’s why Clarisse being concerned about you makes you feel weird. You care about Clarisse, she cares about you- but only enough that she doesn’t want to see you hurt by someone else. But who is she to stop you when you’re the one hurting yourself?

You arrive at the rock in the forest, fingers twisting together. Clarisse is already there, lighter and blunt set out on the ground, polishing her spear.

“Hey,” she says, looking down.

“Hi.”

You sit down, eager to get your hands on the weed and forget about the way Clarisse’s concern confuses you.

You stare at your shaking hand.

Gods, are you really that nervous?

Clarisse’s eyes are sharp, she notices everything, she processes it much faster than you can ever dream to. It’s why she’s so quick in battle. She’s a well oiled machine and you’re the one job she’s assigned to do- she knows you by heart after all these nights.

Her spear is pushed off her lap. “Why are you shaking?” she says, voice low and raspy, her hand cupping yours.

“Low blood sugar,” you lie. “I’ll grab a snack before I go to bed.”

She says nothing, but you watch her hesitate as she grabs the blunt and the lighter from the ground, you watch her hesitate again as she goes to light it. But she lights it, she sticks it in between her fingers and holds it out to you.

“C’mere,” she mutters, and you lean forward and let her place the blunt on your parted lips. You breathe in, only for a few seconds, and you could go for a lot longer.

“I wasn’t done,” you huff as she takes her own drag.

“My weed,” she shrugs. “I decide how much you get.”

“You’re a bitch.”

She laughs. She laughs and it makes your stomach twist in such a good way you can’t feel like this anymore, you can’t remember what she does to you, what she called you.

You reach out blindly for the blunt, biting your lip as you practically climb on top of her.

“Clarisse!” you yell, but she seems to find your desperation hilarious, holding the blunt out as far as she can. “I fucking hate you, oh my Gods.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” she says, pushing you off of her. You realize you’re laying on your stomach in between her legs, one hand planted to the ground around her leg, the other reaching out.

She leans back and takes another drag. You roll your eyes and move to attack her, but she’s too fast, sitting up and holding your hand down, her other hand grabbing your chin. She breathes out the smoke right into your lips that are parted in shock, smiling as you stare right into her amused eyes.

She leans back while you sit there stupidly on top of her, blowing out the smoke. “That- that’s- I hate you, did I mention that?”

“You did,” she muses. “But we both know you’re lying.”

You look at her, at her wide smile, at the look in her eyes. You want nothing more than to be her girl- her girl in the way that she’ll kiss your head, tell you about all the things you’ll never do, she’ll lay down with you in a bed of soft pillows. Her girl in the way the reason she’s soft in the moonlight isn’t the weed, it’s because of you. Her girl in the way you can run to her, the way you do now, but with the added connotation of love.

You grab the joint, and she lets you, watching intently as you breathe in and blow out the smoke. She has no right to be worried over you. Not when you’re the one making the choice to waste away your youth. And especially when you’re not her girl- not in the way you want to be.

—-

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come,” she hums.

You sit back against the rock. Normally, you would have been here 20 minutes ago.

You didn’t catch her after dinner, and you stayed firmly in your bed until it all got to be too much. You’re terrified of sleeping, of the nightmares that will come- but for some reason, the weed just puts you at such ease that you don’t have any nightmares.

You didn’t want to be near Clarisse tonight. Not after yesterday, not after the way she’s been making you feel, and the fact that you know she could never really like you. Why would she? You are the stupid weak girl who gets pushed over. You run from drakon’s and can’t even sleep because of nightmares.

Clarisse is fiercely protective of those she loves, but you’re too much work.

You wanted to go one night. One night without the weed, and prove to her and yourself that you don’t need it. You’re not that weak.

But you couldn’t.

You sit down, she looks at your tense shoulders and doesn’t tease you, just hands you the blunt. You mumble something of a thank you, looking up at the stars, shoulders relaxing after a few more breaths.

“I, uh, I tried to skip. Tonight, I mean. I tried not to come.” It’s embarrassing to admit this. You’re so scared of the nightmares that even if it’s a placebo effect, you come back to this clearing every night.

“But you couldn’t?” she asks.

“I couldn’t,” you affirm, staring at the ground.

“Well, you can’t just go cold turkey, dummy. You have to wean yourself off of it. Do you not remember, like, any of those nicotine patch ads?” she laughs. “You’ve got a good memory, you remember.”

“Shut up, meanie,” you mumble, raising the joint to your lips. She stops you.

“Ah-ah. Starts now. Make it a good one, ‘cause that’s your last, baby.”

“Fine,” you mumble, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. You breathe in for a long time, tempted to go a little longer, but Clarisse reaches over and pinches your cheek. “Okay!” you yell, throwing the joint back to her.

She laughs and raises it to her own lips, taking in another long drag before putting it out.

You look at her, silent question in the air. She shrugs.

“Been meaning to slow down for a while, why not do it together?”

“Yeah,” you hum, looking back towards the stars. “Oh, hey, Ares is out tonight.” She looks over.

“Yeah,” she muses. “Fuckin’ Ares.”

“It’s still beautiful,” you say, stars in your eyes. “You have to think about it the way mortals do. They don’t know the Gods put them up there- they think it’s just some random spotting of stars, they think they made patterns out of it. Isn’t that beautiful? To make patterns and people out of stars? To look for humanity where there is none?”

“I never thought about it like that,” Clarisse says.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” you ask. You can feel her eyes on you.

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Beautiful.”

—-

The next two weeks goes by the same. You don’t catch Clarisse after dinner, but you come every night, you smoke a little less, she teases you and gets closer to you. She gets bolder and bolder and you get shyer and shyer.

You still feel like too much. If she just lets you prove this to her and to yourself, the maybe you can lean against the rock with her and flirt back.

—-

You meet Clarisse by the rock. She’s still standing, waiting for you. She takes the last of the blunt you’ve been using for the last few days and lights it, taking one small drag before she flips it around and holds it out to you.

“C’mon,” she guides. “Not too much, I’ll stop you.”

You feel kind of like a baby as Clarisse puts the joint on her lips, fingertips against your face to steady her hand. You breathe in for just a second, tempted for more, but she takes it away. You look up at her, fingers twisted together.

“Clarisse, I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

She leaves the blunt to blow out in the wind in the natural dip of the rock, your own little ashtray at the top. Of course, Clarisse will come and collect it the next morning- you don’t want to upset the nymphs and satyrs in the forest.

“It’s a good idea,” she affirms. “Don’t worry, okay?”

You’re scared. You remember being chased by the drakon even now, you remember it’s snarls, you remember it’s claws moving through the air. You remember your heart pumping in your ears, you remember the stones in your stomach that were supposed to be fear.

You feel like Kronos, but what you swallowed wouldn’t just sit idly inside of you- no, your fear would rip through your stomach and your skin and burst out of you in an explosion of blood, like some sick joke of a firework.

She grabs your wrists. Clarisse is soft, here, in the moonlight.

“Hey, it’s okay. I-I was thinking, I didn’t know if you were gonna be okay, but why don’t you sleep in my cabin?”

You shift on your feet. “Clar, no, I can’t ask you to do that. What if we get caught? And I-I- it’s embarrassing, what if your siblings see? What if they tell everyone?”

Clarisse rolls her eyes and tugs you closer from where you had subconsciously started to drift away.

“They already think we’re dating, anyways. Besides, Y/N, no one cares. Most of my siblings have secrets anyways,” she smiles.

“Wh- we’re dating? They think- why?”

Her face is deadpan. “‘Cause you’re my girl.”

You pull back. “Clarisse.”

“What?” she says, slightly incredulous. “You are. You’re about the only person I can tolerate at this camp. I hope you know that. I know I can be horrible, but really, I… care about you a lot.”

You look in her eyes. There’s no lies, no insincerity.

“I know, Clarisse. And I… I appreciate it so much. You’re, like, my only friend,” you smile.

She smiles back but it’s tight. “Friend, yeah.”

You put your arms around her neck and hug her. It’s the first time you’ve ever really hugged her, and her arms wrap tight around your waist. Her mouth presses against your hair. You let yourself be her girl in this moment.

Clarisse is your best friend. She cares about you. Of course she helps you with this. She’s your best friend. Of course you let her.

—-

You do follow Clarisse back to the Ares cabin, back to her bed- and she points to one of her siblings you can’t see in the dark, but there are two figures in the bed. She smiles and you stifle a laugh.

You know better than anyone else that big bad Ares kids are like a marshmallow on the inside. They act all tough, and they are pretty tough, but there’s a soft spot inside of them only unlocked by one person with the right key.

You notice her sibling has their arm around the other person. You wonder if Clarisse will wrap her arm around you like that too.

Clarisse climbs into her bed, opening the covers for you. The beds at Camp are twin sized, but you can fit two people on them if you’re close together. You don’t hesitate, not anymore, not when you have one chance to pretend you’re really hers.

You lay on your side, facing her, hands tucked up by your chest. Her eyes meet yours, she brushes her curls out of her face.

“Good?” she asks. You nod, breathing out.

“‘M fine,” you say.

She rubs your arm, cold from the dark night. “Just relax, okay? Just close your eyes, Y/N.”

You do, you close your eyes, but you’re so fucking terrified you can’t.

“Clarisse,” you breathe, a plead. For what, you don’t know. You want a million things from her in this moment. It’s not fair of you to ask her, you know this, but it doesn’t stop you from asking.

Your breath comes fast, your nails dig into your palms, but you keep your eyes screwed shut like sleep will just magically hit you like a train.

“It’s okay,” Clarisse says, firm. “Why are you so scared?” she whispers.

“They’re so real,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“They’re not.”

She wraps her arms around you so tight you feel like she’s crushing you. But it keeps you in the moment. If you focus on the way her skin feels against yours, on the way her thumb brushes your shoulder blade, her fingertips scratching the back of your scalp.

If you focus, if you imagine all the thing you and her will never do, if you imagine being her girl, then you can fall asleep.

You dream of her lips pressing against your head, her voice in your ear, calling you her angel.

—-

You wake up, Clarisse still wrapped around you, and slowly detangle yourself. Drool pools at the corner of her lips, and you have to bite back a giggle as you slip out of the blankets and into the warm riding sun.

She looks just as pretty in the sunlight as she does in the moonlight. You feel like a lover slipping out of a bed of secrets. But you’re not. You’re just a friend slipping out of a bed of rumors.

She looks so peaceful, you can’t help but wonder if she always sleeps like this- or if having you next to her had the same effect on her sleep as it did to yours.

—-

There’s a loud knock at your cabin door.

There’s only you and a few of your siblings in here, putting the final touches on their outfits for the day, grabbing the last items they need. One of your younger siblings open the door, and you look around the pillars- maybe it’s a counselor doing some sort of inspection? You take a glance around your bunk- but it’s all clean.

Your eyes meet hers.

“Out,” she says, roughly. She looks at you so intently you almost wonder if she’s talking to you. But when you siblings stand there in shock, she looks away. “Well? I said get out, dummies.”

They exchange looks with you, but eventually shuffle out, not wanting to risk Clarisse and her wrath.

She shuts the door behind your last sibling.

“Being tough has it perks, huh?” she smiles, leaning against the door. Your shirt isn’t even pulled on properly, one of your bra straps is already falling down your shoulder from the act of putting your shirt on, and you’re staring at her with your mouth wide open.

She looks you up and down.

“C-Clarisse, what-?”

She walks over to you, frown etched onto her face.

“I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Oh,” you say. “I… I thought you would have wanted me gone-”

“Don’t care. If you’re going to sleep with me then you need to wake me up and tell me you’re leaving.”

She rolls her eyes at your confusion. She sits on your bed and then gestures animatedly for you to sit down.

“Did you not sleep well?” she fusses. “What’s up with you this morning?”

“I slept great, Clarisse, it’s just- why are you here?”

“To tell you that you can’t leave,” she deadpans. “I mean, you spend all night shaking in my arms, terrified, and then I wake up and you’re not there? I almost killed someone. You’re lucky I decided to check here first, Y/N.”

She laughs. She laughs like it’s so funny.

“Why?” you ask.

“‘Cause you’re my girl,” she shrugs. “And-”

“Clarisse, what does that mean?”

You know what you want. And you’re not dumb, but you’re the only friend Clarisse really has- what did you have to compare it to? You’ve been thinking about it in your head, rolling it around like a diamond- each side reflects something you want from her. Her love, her protection, her touch, her time, her.

She plays with her fingers. “It means… I like touching you. I like protecting you. I like being near you. I like your voice and your face.”

She stares at you blankly, like she’s recounting a grocery list, waiting for an affirmative “yes, I heard you.” But all you can do is stare in shock, trying to make your brain catch up with your heart- Clarisse likes your face. Clarisse feels the same way you do. You can be her girl, and you’re not too much for her, you’re not just friends.

“Oh, fuck it,” she mumbles. She places her hand on your face and pecks your lips. “That’s what it means, okay? I’m, like, embarrassingly in love with you, if you haven’t noticed.”

Clarisse is so blunt and forward it makes your head spin.

She stares into your eyes, searching them for something other than shock and confusion.

“Okay,” she says. Shuffling back. You can tell she’s hurt and embarrassed, but her face reveals nothing other than faux confidence and indifference. “I’ll go, I guess-”

“Bitch,” you mumble, slamming your lips onto hers.

It feels so overwhelmingly right and fills you with such a calmness that weed could never compare to. If you were dependent on the joints, then one taste and you’re addicted to Clarisse. She kisses you back with just as much ferocity, throwing your arms around her neck, trying to swallow you whole with her mouth as she grabs your neck with one hand, your face with the other.

It’s months of tension and wanting, lips touching through the passing of a joint, all of it coming down to this moment that feels so bad, so sinful- surely the Gods must frown upon loving someone this much. You would never pray to any of them again if it meant Clarisse would keep kissing you like this.

When she finally pulls back, you’re both smiling wide, leaning into her palm, hands playing with the curls at the base of her neck. You feel like a giddy school girl. You feel like a lover discovering something wildly new and unknown, promising to keep it secret, sealing it with a kiss of pure fire.

“That was such a mean way to confess to someone,” you say. “Just bitchy. Brass and blunt- harsh, even.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, pressing her face against yours.

“Yeah, it’s okay. I know you’re a big softie who drools in her sleep.” She pulls away and glares at you.

“I don’t fucking drool, Y/N. You’re seeing things.”

You fake frown, bringing her closer to you. “Such a horrible thing to say to your girlfriend.”

“My girlfriend?” she breathes, swollen lips parting like she’s aching to kiss you again.

“Your girlfriend,” you affirm, staring straight into her eyes.

You sunk more into becoming a demigod and all it got you was nightmares and a fear of sleeping. But the more you sunk into being her girl, the more you sunk into loving her and being loved.

You don’t know where Clarisse gets her softness from. Certainly not from her father. She didn’t learn to kiss your head from him. She didn’t learn how to hold you, how to call you hers, how to whisper in your ear from Ares.

You don’t know where Clarisse gets her softness from, but it’s good.

—-

SHOUTOUT TO clarisse “cause you’re my girl” la rue LOVE YOUR POSSESSIVE ASS!!!!!!!!

—-

clarisse when y/n smokes weed: oh so pretty……

clarisse when y/n can only fall asleep bc of her arms or her weed: my girl fr……..

clarisse when y/n: oh my wonderful perfect angel

—-

y/n: BITCH

clarisse: YOURE SO HOT FUCK

—-

where did clarisse get her weed from you may ask? me that’s where she got it from i ripped through the fabric of reality to give it to her to make this happen actually and you’re welcome

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

@sincerely-silk

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 4 days

Text

Part I: The Prophecy — June 25, 2011

Part I: On her daily morning run, Y/N wonders if she’ll ever have someone who wants her simply company. Spencer promises her just that, the only catch: she has to wait seven years.

Rating: Eventual smut, fluff and longing

Word Count: 3.5K

Series Masterlist | Tell Me What You Think!

My Mind Turns You Into Folklore: The Prophecy — June 25, 2011

Running, somehow, still made her feel like a child. Perhaps there was something unadulterated and carefree about losing yourself in the pounding of pavement. When Y/N felt the wind rush in her ears and the familiar burn throughout her body, she truly felt alive.

Her entire body ached— no, screamed— as she approached her fifth mile for the day’s session. For Y/N running wasn’t about getting to the destination fastest, but about finishing the race altogether.

She wished she could apply such wisdom to very particular aspects of her life. Namely, her love life. For Y/N, relationships with men were unpleasantly predictable. From terrible blind dates with friends who she honestly can’t tell if they meant well to men with habits so strange Y/N could only plead insanity by a drunken state as to why she entertained even a second glance. Unfortunately, for her the sea of men seemed to solely be comprised of rather the unfortunate sort of men that made her skin crawl.

Her knees burned as her mind ran through the five weddings and babies that were impending. Between cousins, college friends, and even her own sister all either, Y/N never more lonely than when she was surrounded by her people. There was something particularly voyeuristic about watching those you love move along the carousel while you’re left in the dust. She was a casual observer, marooned to the sidelines. And someone where along the way she forgot to even care.

Her chest burned as she wondered where her aunt, a woman born and forged from pure spite and hefty lack of tolerance for anything progressive, would sit her at her cousin’s wedding. Y/N heaved forward imagining what would be worse; the discarded old widow’s table with wives whose husbands’ expiration date had come and passed. Or with her unruly nephews who would have to be wrestled into a tiny tuxedo and bribed with fried food and the majesty of Red40 to maintain the semblance of civility.

Being 27, husbandless, boyfriendless, and childless didn’t usually bother Y/N. She loved her peace. But somehow it put her into this plane of existence where she straddled youth and adulthood. She had one foot jammed deep into the rich, sodden earth of childhood and one toe dipping too all too calm to be safe waters of adulthood. Yet being uncoupled was as if she purchased overnight shipping to the elephant graveyard.

It was antiquated. It was downright sexist, yet there was a small part of her heart and her entire being that craved to be taken care of by a man. She wanted someone to bring her flowers just because, to hug her from behind while she stirred soup for dinner on a chilly day, to brush her hair from her face as he brought her to the brink of pleasure time and time again.

There was only so much her vibrator could do.

But a heart that ached to be loved, that problem didn’t come with a WebMD link. There wasn’t a quick and easy fix to change something that defined her on a molecular level.

She savored the sweet breeze that reminded her of summer and childhood. The houses, various shades of blue, gray, and beige blurred past as she maintained her steady pace.

Y/N rounded the corner and pounded the pavement that led to Betsy’s Cape Cod. She was the Head Librarian and took Y/N under her rather Mother Goose-like wing three years ago when she took the position at the small, sleepy library. A suburb of Quantico, many of the patrons were families in public service.

She even stumbled across someone who quickly became her best friend, Spencer. He was some sort of former child prodigy turned adult wunderkid. After racking up more diplomas than most extended families collect, Spencer worked as a special agent for the FBI. But looking at him, you would never have guessed. He was timid and shy in a boyish way that made him seem much younger than 32. He was tall and lanky, yet despite his slender frame he seemed to completely light up every single room he walked into.

Both Betsy and Spencer buried themselves into the fabric of her life. Betsy sat on the front porch, slowly swaying on the large, wooden swing. A crocheted blanket lay over her lap, keeping her warm under the brisk morning’s chill.

“Y/N!” Betsy called, as she ascended the stairs with a bright smile, “Dearie, it’s far too cold for you to run out here.”

“I could say the same about you, Bets,”

Betsy dismissed Y/N with a coy smile and a wave of her hand. “It’s good for my old bones to get a little chill. Make sure everything is in working order.”

Betsy scooted over on the porch swing, making more than enough room for Y/N to sit.

“That tall kid? Hmm, Spencer? Yes. Spencer. Was in there looking for you yesterday. Poor kid’s entire day was ruined when I told him you were on a date. Now, is there a reason why you didn’t tell me you didn’t tell your best friend?” Betsy asked, not hesitating to ask a question that went straight for the jugular.

Y/N offered Betsy a weak smile. “There wasn’t anything to tell him. He’s not interested in my love life. We talk about books. And work. And… I don’t know…”

Betsy nodded, but her pointed look pressed Y/N to continue. There wasn’t anything romantic between her and Spencer, but that wasn’t to say the connection wasn’t the most important thing in her life. When she met him three years ago he simply waltzed into her life; a tall, gangly man with a large appetite for baked goods and an excellent taste in literature.

“Besides, he has a thing for his coworker. Even though she hardly acknowledges his existence.”

From the time she met Spencer, he constantly was talking about his teammates. Growing up, Spencer didn’t have a stable family life. His mother tried her best, while his father never tried at all. He grown up not knowing what it was like to belong anywhere and now he finally found something resembling a family.

JJ was blonde and skinny and perfect and Spencer was completely enamored with her. Y/N met her only a couple of times, the first after a football game. She shared a plate of cheese fries and gravy with Spencer’s other coworker, Penelope as Spencer attempted to spout an almanac’s worth of facts about football to JJ.

“Hmm,” Betsy murmured, swinging back and forth. “Well, he said he has to talk to you about something. Maybe he’s getting to his senses, finally.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, sipped some of the ice cold lemonade Betsy handed her, and gave her a pointed smile.

“This isn’t a romance novel, Bets. You’ve been sneaking too many of those bodice rippers.”

She stood up and felt some relief as her weary muscles stretched. Betsy waved another annoyed hand.

“Quiet down, Missy. I’ve had my chance at love. And I fully intend on you and Spencer being an item. My Arnold, may that old bastard rest in peace, never gave me children, so you and that boy are my only chance to fill this house with grandkids.”

“Oh my God, Betsy,” Y/N groaned, her head tossed back, “It’s not like that between us. And I promise you, it never will be.”

Y/N took off before Betsy had the chance to respond. But she couldn’t shake the funny feeling tugging at her heartstrings. She thought that maybe if she just focused her mind on feeling the wind blow her hair and her body burn as the third mile turned into a fifth, she could wash away the thoughts of one or two little children sitting on Betsy’s porch, sandwiched in between her and Spencer.

***

Gary, as it turned out, wasn’t a nice guy. First of all, he showed up precisely 23 and a half minutes late and hardly bothered to greet her as he sat down at their two seater table. He barked a drink order to the waitress, who graciously threw Y/N a sympathetic smile.

“So you work at Walter Reed?” Y/N asked, attempting to make conversation with the man seated in front of her. He was a couple years her senior and an Attending Emergency Room Doctor. On paper Gary seemed wonderful. He had a nice family; older sisters were always a green flag in Y/N’s book and seemed to have a basic grasp of personal hygiene practices.

Gary mumbled as the waitress brought him his drink: whisky on rocks. He downed it in about three minutes and signaled for the waitress to return.

“Sorry,” Gary apologized, his voice so close to resembling being embarrassed, but it, somewhere along the line, made a beeline in the opposite direction, “There was some bitch in the ER today complaining about how her boyfriend didn’t believe her when she told him she was pregnant. Took me a god damn hour to shut her up. Jesus, reminds me why I don’t date.”

Y/N felt her face freeze. It was like his harsh words poured ice water over her shoulders. Her skin practically crawled as Gary’s carelessness settled in. Wasn’t this a date? Or was this simply the means for Gary to get into her pants.

“Hold up,” Y/N said, gesturing with her hand held up to stop Gary’s rant, “I was under the impression this was a date. Is it not?”

Gary shrugged. “As long as there’s a happy ending with you, babe I don’t give a fuck.”

He was crass. Y/N was far from a prude. She enjoyed her time in college and didn’t mind the occasional quick one night stand when the opportunity presented itself, but there would be something completely debasing and revolting about sleeping with the man sitting before her.

“I think you’ve gotten the wrong impression.” Y/N said, her words clipped and stern: there wasn’t room for Gary to mix up any bit of her message. “I’m not looking for a fuck-buddy. And even if I was, it certainly wouldn’t be you. We’ve been sitting here for all of twelve minutes and you’ve already drank two whiskys, been rude to the waitress, insulted a patient, and offended me.”

Gary, in a lackadaisical way that could only be described as a fuckboy with the worst case of Peter Pan syndrome, shrugged his shoulders. He downed the rest of his second whisky, “You’re a frigid bitch anyway.”

He left.

And Y/N laughed. Then she ordered two slices of double chocolate cheesecake and asked the waitress where the closest liquor store was.

***

Silently, she cursed Spencer’s charming love of buildings with character. She bounded up the steps to his apartment, the plastic bag with the two slices of cheesecake banged against her leg. Her other hand clutched the neck of a cheap, screw top rose.

Her date, disastrous, was nearly comical, and she couldn’t wait to recount the details to Spencer.

They share a sort of sadistic penchant for relaying moments for their occasional first dates. Typically, Y/N had more than Spencer. On the rare occasion Spencer did have a date, Y/N found herself trying to explain that any girl in her right mind would attempt to flirt with Spencer, but he refused to see her points.

Not bothering to knock, Y/N opted to use the spare key Spencer gave her. She figured he’d either still be working at the office or would be too engrossed in his latest fantasy novel to bother answering the door.

Spencer’s apartment was painted a dusty, sage green. The farthest wall was lined with built-in bookshelves. A prewar relic, Spencer’s style mixed perfectly with the vintage quality embedded within the walls.

Up until recently, Spencer’s kitchen was hardly used. But Y/N had taken it upon herself to teach Spencer the basics in prepping meals. He was a quick study, as with almost everything he tried. And it gave her some peace knowing he would be able to provide himself something more satiating than granola bars and frozen lasagna.

“Spencer! Spence!” Y/N called out, dipping her head into Spencer’s second bedroom. There was a queen bed in there with a cream colored quilt splashed out on the bed.

On late nights spent watching old, black and white movies or binging episodes of The Twilight Zone and The X-Files, she would crash there. It was a fight for her to even concede to allow Spencer to purchase the queen bed. Y/N claimed that she was fine just sleeping on the couch, but Spencer insisted that she sleep in a bed.

And if Y/N had been born into a braver soul, she would’ve suggested they share his bed three years ago.

Spencer shuffled out of his bathroom, eyes red and weary. He wore a tattered Cal-Tech shirt and plaid pajama pants. He wore his glasses. They rested on the bridge of his nose and made him lose at least four or five years on his already young looking face.

“She’s pregnant.”

“I brought wine. And chocolate cheesecake.” Y/N replied, kicking her shoes off. “And you better have done laundry already because I am not sleeping in this dress. I feel ridiculous in it.”

Spencer’s eyes raked over Y/N’s frame, as if he was internally debating his thoughts on her outfit. His brow furrowed. “You’re date?”

“Asshole.” Y/N said, walking into the kitchen. She plucked two wine glasses from Spencer’s cabinet and two plates. “Arrogant and only wanted a quick fuck.”

His voice disappeared as he went into his room for a change of pajamas. They were freshly washed. She continued to listen to Spencer as she shut the bathroom door and changed behind. His voice was no longer muffled when she came out of the bathroom, but she did notice how Spencer’s eyes still were heavy with something unfamiliar when he looked over her baggy, old pajama-clad frame.

“You’re not the girl for that.” Spencer commented, reaching for the corkscrew. His large hands twisted around the device and the bottle of wine made a satisfying pop.

“You don’t know that.” Y/N countered, her defiance made a crop of red appear on Spencer’s cheeks. “Besides, that’s not the point. JJ’s pregnant. With that New Orleans guy’s baby?”

He nodded. It was as if grief washed over Spencer as Y/N changed the conversation. She knew that Spencer was harboring feelings for JJ. Jennifer was nearly perfect in every way. The only imperfect thing about her was that she didn’t realize how perfect Spencer was. He would’ve adored JJ if he got the chance. He nearly did.

“And how do you feel about that?”

Spencer groaned, pouring himself a healthy cup of rosé. “Unsure. It’s not like I’m going to confront her about this. She’s practically engaged to Will. And now there’s a baby in the picture? A baby who’s very well going to grow up seeing me as Uncle Spencer.”

He sounded exhausted. Y/N touched his hand and squeezed. She understood the pained loneliness that plagued Spencer’s voice. “I don’t love JJ anymore. It’s just, my whole life I felt like I was so far beyond my peers. And now? They all finally have caught up, this time the tables have turned. God, I’m excited when a girl smiles at me, let alone goes on a date with me.”

Weakly, Y/N smiled. She sipped her rose, “So it’s more of feeling like you’re far beyond in life? Despite having two PhDs and like three undergrad degrees? You’re one of the most accomplished men I know, Spencer. And we all move along at our own pace. Don’t compare JJ’s story to yours.”

He nodded, spooning a bite of the double chocolate cheesecake. “It’s just…I’m nearly 32. And now I’m watching JJ and Hotch and Morgan talk about babies and husbands and wives and houses. And I can’t help but wonder if I’ll be lucky enough to get that one day. Sometimes… I think I’m too me for anyone to fall in love with me.”

Y/N felt her heart shatter into a million little pieces as Spencer’s honest confession striked her entire system. She wanted to reach out and push away the stray curl that hooked itself in front of his eyebrow. She wanted to reach out and wipe away his tears. She wanted to tell her friend that if no one married him, she would.

She stalked off the to couch, needing a stable place to sit. Her chocolate cheesecake stuck to the roof of her mouth and the bitter rosé did nothing to remove it.

“Holy shit, Spencer. Do you not realize that you’d make any girl happy? You’ll find her one day, I know it. And if you don’t, we can just say fuck it and get married. I mean, I know it wouldn’t be romantic love, but we could at least live together. Through a big fancy party and get dressed up nice and getting drunk on mojitos with my best friend. My person? Sounds fun.”

“You mean that?” Spencer asked, half in disbelief and half in wonderment. “You mean that we’ll get married if neither of us have someone…say seven years from now?”

She must’ve drank more than she thought as she waited for Gary to ruin their date. “I meant it. But why seven?”

A smile toyed on Spencer lips. She noticed the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

“It’s my lucky number.”

Her lips were so loose that it threatened to crack open her heart. She had a nasty habit of wearing that on her sleeve.

She gave Spencer a sheepish look as his eyes met hers. He looked half between incredulous and hopeful. His fingers ran across the rim of his wine glass as the wine sloshed around. It mirrored Y/N’s stomach.

“Is this idea like bad shit crazy?” Y/N asked. “I mean it. I mean, why not. It’s not so different from what we do now. Just all the time. And I’d be thrilled to be spiritually required to spend more time with you.”

“Should we….shake hands or something. I’m not the biggest fan of that, but I think my wife would serve as an exception to the rule. To every rule I’ve got?”

Y/N laughed. She felt the wine creep up a nice, warm flush against her skin. It matched the light and easy way her limbs felt. It might have very well been the wine, but there wasn’t much of anything that could trump laughing with your best friend. Especially when that best friend slipped and called you his wife.

Her feet somehow ended up in Spencer’s lap. His thumb rubbed gently against her ankle, barely touching her bare skin. Yet it sent shockwaves that she didn’t quite understand.

The corners of Spencer’s eyes crinkled as he reciprocated that laugh. They shared it and Y/N had the strangest desire to bottle it up. She wanted to store this moment in her mind and come back to it. One day. Some day.

“We’ll get married,” Spencer started speaking as if it was a prophecy that he could set in stone, “if neither of us has anyone, we’ll enter this rather odd, rather complex, yet completely entirely normal and simple marriage in seven years?” His sweet, yet coy smile was boyish, it only reminded Y/N just how far away 35 was for her.

“Should we draft up a contract?”

“Have your lawyers contact my lawyers. I never sign documents without the proper legal support. In the meantime, could we settle on our first stipulation: never watching a new episode of our current favorite show without the other?”

“I agree to the terms and conditions you’ve set out.” Y/N said. She grabbed the blanket that rested on the back of the couch as Spencer turned off the lamp light.

“Oh and I washed the sheets in your room. I used the detergent you like. And your pajamas. The lavender vanilla one with the scent beads?” He flipped on an episode of The Twilight Zone.

She smiled from the way Spencer naturally called the guest room her bedroom. There was something very domestic and peaceful about him using her favorite detergent to wash the sheets in her room in his apartment. It resembled the exact something that she was craving: being taken care of.

She sipped her rose again, watching as her friend smiled at the gray scale painted on the screen. It was too bad she only had to weight over half a decade to feel it and not feel guilty and like she was lying to herself.

—

Taglist:

@reidsbookclub @boldlyvoid @mrs-dr-reid @reid-ingandweeping @candlesandsoftrain @foxy-eva @queermaxwooo

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction

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sshadowritestoriess · 1 year

Note

hello! could you write something with zen echo and ramattra (sorry if that's too many characters) with a human reader who kisses them even tho they don't really have a mouth, I'd like to know their reactions

Kissing robots is so good <3

Kissing Zenyatta

Kisses aren’t a display that surprises him, really!

It might have been pretty anticlimactic the first instance that you had press your lips to his faceplate, a gesture of which he gently leaned into and remained patiently still, until you pulled away

But he would still sometimes entertain you with a prized “oh!” as if he hadn’t expected it

He only apologized the first time for not being able to return the favor the same way, but he was delighted by receiving such a human affection! It pleases him immensely that you would demonstrate this kind of love as if he were human

The best he could do to reciprocate was to press his forehead against yours, lean carefully into your touch, or nudge his jaw against your cheek

He’d be ridiculously gentle doing these things, highly aware that he was of metal and that humans bruise quite easily.

When you would kiss him where he would have a mouth, he liked to respond with a verbal “mwah!” or other kiss sound

You both would also have a habit of blowing kisses to one another as well. He loves pretending to catch yours, and would feign placing it on his cheek before signing “I love you” with his hand

But he also liked to take your hands in his and press your knuckles to the nine lights of his forehead, feeling the warmth of his glow against your hands in his own means of returning the gesture

Sometimes he even asks for kisses, very politely. It’s hard to refuse (but why would you?)

Kissing Echo

Considering her face is just a hologram, you both occasionally forget that and share an amused moment when trying to kiss each other

Sometimes it’s definitely on purpose though! Feigning a kiss upon one another’s mouth with sweet smiles, and an especially elated giggle from Echo

Your one-sided kisses always make her gasp, an expressive look of joyous surprise on her face that leaves her mouth agape

She finds it so interesting, curious, and will lift to you her hands and turn her head from side to side asking “Can you do that here? And what about from here?”

So it’s not really a one-and-done— if you kiss her, you’re gonna end up doing quite a couple. She loves it very much

She doesn’t seem bothered that she can’t truly kiss you back, and if asked she’ll tell you “I think there’s something just as special about pretending!”

And it’s true. The make-believe gestures of affection are something very unique to her that may as well be real in its own way

Just because she couldn’t kiss you doesn’t mean she wasn’t. It may not be the same, but it felt no different than if she could. And it was fun, and worth her reactions

She could never bore of your kisses, nor tire of returning them.

Kissing Ramattra

Ramattra, on the other hand, would somehow end up shocked by your kisses every single time without fail. Subtly flinching as if you’d accidentally surprised him

He’d make a disgruntled noise after your display, but he’d never ask you to stop. He would, however, make sure now and again that you didn’t think he was going to be able to suddenly kiss you back one day

Sometimes he’d mutter something about “human gestures”, but it was hard to discern if it was bringing him offense or not. But again, he never told you he didn’t like it— and he was pretty open about telling you the things that brought him unease

It was more like he was just tolerating it for a while, but he’d eventually begin appreciating it

While he can’t kiss you, he does have a similar gesture that brings him a lot more satisfaction when you attempt to do the same

His specific model can summon a very brief vibration from behind the “mouth” of his faceplate, an old discreet means of communicating that uses the gentle buzz as something similar to Morse code. The pulses produce no sound, but emits a small encoded wave between omnics— like sending a text directly into someone’s mind

It wasn’t a language any human could decipher, but he’d press his ‘mouth’ to your neck or cheek and speak a quick note of affection there, anyway.

You seemed to understand it was loving. And when one day he’d tucked his face into your shoulder and his faceplate pulses ticklishly against your skin again, he was suddenly ecstatic when you leaned your throat against his head and hummed quickly, in the same rhythm he did, mocking his gesture

So, technically, you were telling him you loved him back by repeating his ‘message’, and you had no idea.

He wouldn’t admit a thing to you, but you could tell it made him pretty happy.

And while he preferred his version of “kisses” to yours, he would never turn down your ways of showing him that you loved him

#overwatch #overwatch2 #headcanons #fluff #kisses #ramattra overwatch #ramattra #reader insert #zenyatta #echo overwatch #echo #echo x reader #Ramattra x reader #Zenyatta x reader

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aerynwrites · 6 months

Text

Make is Right

Gale x Dark Urge!Reader

A/N: Had this idea come to me when @thedreamlessnights told me that Gale yelled at their dark urge after talking to Gortash in Baldur’s Gate. Hope y’all enjoy the angst and fluff that follows.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR BG3. Spoilers for dark urge plot specifically. Angst, emotional Hurt/Comfort, major character death, resurrection, fluff, happy ending.

You’ve been in a spiral ever since the Nautiloid crashed, your mind a jumble of blankness and confusing violent urges you can’t hope to control. Your sleep plagued with terrible dreams and that infuriating butler. Urges that have made you do terrible things and almost make you do worse.

But now…now it feels as if everything has come crashing down around you. You’d hoped coming to Baldur’s Gate would give you answers to your past, hopefully bring to light memories that are still lost to you.

You never expected it to be worse than you thought.

You never expected to be on the receiving end of Lord Gortash’s cunning smile as he greets his favorite assassin. You didn’t think learning of your past would make your heart drop to your stomach.

But as you stand here, in this grand throne room and listen as Gortash tells you of your bloody past…you feel bile rise in your throat.

You watch numbly as Duke Ravengard crowns Gortash as the archduke of Baldur’s Gate, acutely aware of how your companions shift uneasily behind you. You accept begrudgingly when Gortash offers you an alliance, that sickening smile tugging at his lips as he steps closer to you.

“I tolerate Orin,” he tells you, a strange fondness in his eyes that makes your stomach roll. “But I liked you.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “Go get the stone. And don’t come back until you have it in hand.”

You obey his command, not because you want to listen to him, but because you want to get as far away from here as possible. Your feet carry you faster than you expect, and soon you’re out of the oppressive building that is Wyrm’s Crossing making your way across the bridge.

It’s only then that any feeling comes back to you at all, and you’re acutely aware of piercing gaze burning into your back. You stop in your tracks, turning to see Gale as the source.

The look he gives you…The man who you’ve come to love and who you thought felt the same…His eyes are full of nothing but betrayal and anger.

You reach out to him, fear gripping your heart like you’ve never felt before. “Gale, what-?”

He recoils from you, lips turned down wards. “Don’t.” He says, the one word coming out harsher than you anticipate, making you retreat into yourself as he continues. “The absolute, the tadpoles…it was because of you?”

That last word is said with such venom it makes your heart fracture in your chest. You’ve never been on the receiving end of such vitriol, at least not from him, and it makes tears burn at the back of your eyes.

“Gale, please…I didn’t even know-“

He cuts you off with a raised hand, eyes falling shut as he turns his head away from you, as if it pains him to even hear your voice.

“I think you’ve said and done more than enough,” he lowers his hand to a fist at his side, still not looking at you. “Leave me be.”

He offers nothing else as he brushes past you, walking back towards camp with a rigid set to his shoulders. You feel your lower lip wobble, and out of instinct look back to your other companions for guidance, hoping for anything other than hatred.

You at least get that much. Not even Karlach will look right at you, her hands clenching at her sides as she too walks past, uttering something about catching up with Gale. Astarion offers one of his humorous quips, but even that does nothing to help.

Only Shadowheart seems truly sorry, her eyes meeting yours in a knowing way. You suppose she’s the only one who understands being a slave to your blank past and eventually finding out the brutal truth.

But even her…you can see the thin set of her lips, and you know. You know on some level she blames you too.

And as they all leave one after the other, you’re left alone on the wooden bridge, the wind whistling around you, and your mind still infuriatingly blank.

————

No one approaches you at camp that evening, all of them being pleasant enough but losing that usual camaraderie that typically fills the air.

It’s only after dinner has been served and eaten that you move to seek out your partner, your bowl of stew left untouched by your spot at the fire.

Gale is in front of his tent, deep in one of his books as he usually is. Normally the sight would bring a smile to your face, but now as you approach, nothing but dread settles in your stomach.

The man doesn’t even acknowledge you as you walk up, eyes never leaving the pages of his book as you stand in front of him, shifting nervously in your feet.

“Can we talk?” you finally ask, voice soft in the night air.

Not looking up from his reading, Gale turns a page as he answers, “I don’t see what there is to talk about.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep the tears welling up at bay.

“You know what.”

Gale scoffs, finally closing his book with a resounding snap as he finally looks at you. His eyes are ablaze with anger but deep below the surface you can sense a sadness. He feels betrayed.

“Oh yes,” he says, “I suppose we do need to address the fact that you are the reason we are all in this bloody predicament. Where would you like to start?” He asks cruelly. “The fact that you’re actually a bloodthirsty assassin set on fulfilling your fathers diabolical wishes? Or should we discuss the tiny detail that you were seemingly cozy with none other than Enver Gortash?”

Frustration bubbles up in you then, and finally the tears spill over - hurt and anger and utter confusion proving too much for you to handle.

“You act like that person is me!” You cry, wavering. “Like I haven’t proven again and again since I’ve met you that I’m not…that. I don’t want to be that person anymore I don’t…I can’t be.”

Gale says nothing, so you continue. “I can’t control who I was but until today I didn’t even know that was my past but I -“ you choke on a sob, wiping furiously at the tears streaming down your cheeks. “We’ve done so much good. That has to count for something.”

You watch as Gale softens ever so slightly, but it’s so slight that if you didn’t know him as well as you do, you would have missed it.

He sighs, eyes clenching shut as he turns his face from you again. “Sometimes…Sometimes our past is not something we can separate ourselves from.” He says simply, hands falling limply by his side. “I…I need time to think. I think it’s best if you go.”

His words feel like a stake to your heart, the pain radiating out to your fingertips and making your knees weak.

You want to scream. You want to fall on your knees and beg for him to understand, for him to not push you away. But you know it would do no good. So instead, you only nod, swallowing the lump in your throat as you retreat to your bedroll by the fire.

You avoid the sideways stares the others give you, no doubt having heard your fight with Gale.

The bedroll is cold beneath you, even the fire doing nothing to warm the icy hurt seeping through your veins. Minutes tick by into hours and soon everyone retires to bed.

But you remain awake.

Astarion and Karlach lay on the other bedrolls near you - but the one across the fire is achingly empty.

As the night draws on and the flames of the fire dwindle to nothing but smoldering embers, your mind runs endlessly.

You try fruitlessly to counjure up memories of your past, the past Gortash laid out for you. But there’s nothing. Nothing but blankness and and cloud of black anger bubbling in your chest.

Orin.

She’s the only thing that keeps fighting it’s way to the forefront of your mind. Since you’ve been in the city she’s already made it clear she’s watching you, and after what was revealed to you, you know why.

She did this to you.

She created this vast expanse of emptiness within you. Made you forget your past and took your place as Bhaals chosen, but maybe…

It was for the better. You know this, and silently you thank her for doing it. For orchestrating your fall from grace so to speak. Because now…now you’re someone else, someone better.

All at once an idea forms in your mind. One that would hopefully solve all your problems.

Orin took your place when she got rid of you…what if you could do the same. But instead of taking her place when she falls…you can deny your father his chosen.

You’ll have two of the stones, Orin out of the way and one step closer to righting the wrongs you’ve unknowingly created.

You’re on your feet before you can overthink it. You enter your tent and don your armor and weapons in a mindless haze, only when you exit your tent do you pause, your eyes trailing over to the familiar blue tent across camp.

You approach quietly, not wanting to wake the sleeping body inside, and you carefully peel back the tent flap. Gale rests on his side, face lax with sleep as his chest rises and falls slowly.

For a moment you’re struck with a pang of fear. What if this venture ends in your death? What if you never see the man you love again?

These thoughts run through your head as you gaze softly at your sleeping lover, and before you can let the fear control you, you lean in and press a featherlight kiss to his cheek.

He barely stirs, eyes fluttering lightly before he settles once more. You smile sadly before reaching into your pocket, your fingers wrapping around the cool red stone before you pull it out.

You place the netherstone beside his pillow where he’ll be sure to see it. If this does go sideways…they can still continue the mission.

You stand, giving one last glance at Gale before you let the tent flap fall shut and turn to go face your past head on.

———

Orins arrogance is her downfall, just as you hoped it would be.

She could have easily overpowered you. Taken advantage of your worn down state from trying to find the temple. She could have used the handful of cultists around her to aid in her battle against you.

But she was arrogant, bloodthirsty, and ready to end what she had started.

That had been her mistake.

The fight was not easy, there were moments where you thought you would fall, a few injuries too close to fatal for you to be too haughty in your victory.

But as she lay, broken and bloodied at your feet, you can’t help but be acutely aware of the vast emptiness still yawing within you.

You thought killing Orin would make you feel something. Maybe a sick sense of satisfaction, or possibly even trigger some memories of what she did to you or what you’ve done.

But there’s…nothing. There’s nothing but the sound of your own breath as it bubbles wetly in your chest.

Somethings wrong, you’re injured worse than you’ve ever been before but at this moment you can’t find it in you to care.

Will this be enough?

Will Gale forgive you for your wrongs? Or, when you return to camp with the second netherstone, will it just prove that he was right? That you can’t in fact separate yourself from your bloody past.

That you’ll never be more than the spawn of Bhaal, created to do one thing only.

Will you ever truly be free?

Your answer comes in a wave of telekinetic pain, washing over your mind and nearly bringing you to your knees as a voice speaks through you.

There’s a tinge of familiarity as it speaks, and it’s only then you realize who is speaking.

Bhaal.

The god of murder. Your father. The thing that made you who you were - who you are.

You stand there, that pain slowly ebbing away as he offers you greatness. Offers you the title as his chosen once more and showers you with false praises.

You feel that all too familiar urge tug violently at your mind, begging - screaming at you to accept your rightful place.

You almost give in, your despair and emptiness almost winning out. But then…then you remember the way Gale looked at you, the way they all looked at you. With pain and fear and betrayal in their eyes.

And suddenly the emptiness is gone. The vast yawning cavern of blackness in your mind no longer feels like a burden. You may not remember who you were but…You aren’t them anymore. You’re someone new. Someone kind and loving and caring. You’re someone who laughs around the campfire at Karlach’s jokes and teases Astarion about his always perfect hair.

But more than that…You’re someone who’s known love.

Gales face flickers before your mind then, that kind small smile when you ask him about his magic. The way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. The way his hands feel against your skin as he holds you, or the way he stayed with you as you fought your urges.

Your mind isn’t empty. It’s so full. Just as your heart is. Full of love and hope and brightness despite the urges that tempt you everyday.

You’re not his anymore.

You reject his gift as powerfully as you can muster and you feel the way his power reels back in anger and hatred.

How dare you refuse me!

His voice rages in your mind just as you feel the tendrils of pain seep into your bones.

Your name echoes off the cavernous temple walls, and through the pain and the voice screaming in your head it takes you longer than usual to realize where it’s coming from.

You turn to see your companions, your friends, rushing towards you from the entrance of the temple, shouts of your name and other jumbled words greet your ears.

But then you see Gale.

His eyes filled with worry and regret, reaching for you, fingers outstretched towards your quaking form.

They’re closer now, each step bringing them closer and closer to your bleeding body. You reach out your own hand, limbs quaking with effort against the ever crushing weight consuming you.

Your fingers just barley brush Gale’s, his eyes glossing with relief.

But it’s too late.

His hand slips into your own as Bhaal strikes you down.

Bones cracking, sinew snapping, and blood rushing out of you as darkness swallows you whole. The last thing you remember as death surrounds you, is the pain in your throat as you cry out Gale’s name.

————

It feels like mere moments after the pain and darkness that light erupts around you.

Warm tendrils of light wrap around the emptiness that was your life and soul forming you once more back onto the mortal plane. It blinds you, making you unable to see what happens until you materialize and your boots hit solid ground, your knees buckling beneath you.

But instead of meeting the cold hard floor beneath you, warm arms catch you as you fall, your body falling against a much sturdier one.

Your mind is muddled as your sense come back to you, a multitude of faces swimming before you. You see Karlach and Halsin hovering off to the side with Shadowheart. Even Astarion’s face swims with worry.

But what catches your attention most is the familiar face of your lover right above you, tears clinging to his lashes.

Tears?

You’ve never seen Gale cry, never seen him so much as sniffle or whimper. But now…

Small, warm tears drip onto your cheeks as he leans down to press his forehead against your own, his arms crushing you to his chest so fiercely you nearly can’t breathe.

“Thank the gods-“ he chokes on a sob, “you’re alive. You’re alive. I…” he pulls away from you then, reaching a hand up to wipe the moisture from your skin. “I watched you die and all I could think about was what a fool I’d been - how unfair and cruel I was to you.”

You shake your head, bringing a hand up cradle his cheek, wiping at the tears there as you furrow your brow.

“What happened?”

Gale opens his mouth to speak, but another raspy echoing voice answers. You turn your head just enough to see Withers standing a few paces away.

“Bhaal tried to extinguish thee, but his wrath is imprecise. He only succeeded in killing the part of thee he knew,” the being says plainly, voice lacking any emotion. “The Urge that drove thee to terrible acts. The spark of brutality that made thee his. But there is a new part of thee that has grown during thy travels.” You swear you see the bag of bones smile. “That part Bhaal could not extinguish. And so, instead of destroying thee, he hath made thee anew.”

He continues. “The heart of a savior hath overshadowed the mind of a murderer” he clenches a fist triumphantly. “Thou hast vanquished thy Urge.”

It's then, when his words truly settle in that you sense it - or, don’t sense it.

There’s…nothing. No primal bloodlust, no violent tug at the edge of your mind.

It’s gone.

Hope swells in your chest as you look back to Gale, eyes swimming with tears of your own now.

“He’s right I - I can’t feel it. The urge. I think it’s gone, for good this time.”

Gale shakes his head, pulling you ever closer as his lips fall to your cheek. “I don’t care,” he says firmly, causing momentary panic to tug at your heart.

But Gale is quick to sooth, pulling away to look into your eyes. “I only mean that I do not care if your urges are with you or not. I would love you all the same and I-“ he closes his eyes, shoulders tense with regret. “I was a fool for making you think I felt otherwise. You stuck by me even when I didn’t deserve it and I…I did not give you the same respect or care.”

His voice is soft and broken as he speaks, eyes opening again. “I love you, more than than even my goddess, more than the stars that litter the night skies and I - I can only beg for your forgiveness, though I would not begrudge you for holding it from me.”

As his words sink in, you faintly recognize that the others have retreated quietly, even Withers has taken his leave, allowing you and Gale a moment of privacy.

Slowly you move so you are kneeling before Gale who mirrors your position, his arms still wrapped around you. You bring your hands up to cradle his cheeks, thumbs brushing back and forth slowly.

“I love you too,” you tell him, eyes watering with tears once more. “That’s why I…I wanted to make things right - prove that I wasn’t that person anymore.”

“But you have!” Gale says, voice striken with grief. “Time and time again you showed us who you truly are, proved that the urges you felt were against your will and yet I still-“ he laughs bitterly, “I still let the revelation of your past cloud who I know you truly are. I was cruel. And there is no excuse for the harsh words I uttered. I only hope to show you the error of my ways, no matter how long it takes.”

You smile at him - your lover, your partner, the only person you want to spend your future with - and kiss him.

You pour all of your love and desperate aching need for him into that one action, heart swelling with warmth as he responds in kind.

You only part when you need air, moving to rest your head against his own, your breathes mingling together.

“There’s nothing to forgive, my love,” you whisper. “Just stay by my side until the end as I will you.”

Gale smiles, arms wrapping tighter around your waist.

“I would love nothing more.”

#Gale dekarios x reader #gale x reader #bg3 gale x reader #gale x dark urge #Dark urge #bg3 #baldurs gate 3

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i-cant-sing · 7 months

Text

Okay but like imagine after Kai gets his arms obliterated and has served his sentence and is now in rehab or whatever where he meets nurse/doctor reader who is very kind to him and because she just is. She thinks everyone deserves a chance to reform themselves or whatever and so she's very patient with Kai and slowly but surely brings him out of his depression.

Eventually, Kai and reader end up dating and Kai is actually changed as a human too. He's kinder, softer, smiles more often and more tolerant of germs and people. Reader and him often go out on dates and for whatever reason, Kai is unable to use his legs and is in a wheelchair, but reader doesn't mind. In fact, she helps him with his physiotherapy but in a way without belittling Kai.

Kai and reader get married, a very small quiet ceremony and they're having one of their quiet nights in when suddenly Kai gets a shooting pain and needs his meds but reader forgot to buy it on the way home so she immeadiately runs out and to get it for him.

She's on the phone with him to make sure his condition doesn't worsen when suddenly there's a loud crash and she hears fear in his voice as he goes "Y/N, DONT-" before tge call ends and reader immediately sprints back home, thinking the worst.

Her eyes widen as she enters the house, only to be shoved down to the floor by some dude from behind. In front of her, Kai is lying on the floor, gagged, all bloody and bruised as some man pushes him to the ground with a foot on his back.

You can't even yell for help as the man behind you begins beating you up and Kai's screams are muffled as he struggles around to get to you but to no avail. His eyes widen as the man begins taking your clothes off and he fights harder than before, screams louder than before as the vile man begins to do unspeakable things to you while you cry and call for Kai.

Kai can't even look away from you because they force hin to watch unless he wants them to kill you.

After many hours, they finally leave, you're unconscious. Kai is just lying there on the floor as he realises how truly useless he is. How he couldn't save you, how this is all his fault because enemies from his past that he thought he could just forget came today for payback, how he couldn't even call an ambulance for you. No, a neighbour saw your front door open and came by to see you both in horrid conditions and called 911.

In the hospital, as you're being treated, Kai is burning with rage and guilt. He failed to protect the only good thing in his life. He will avenge you, he will never let himself be weak again. He may have promised he'd never go back to his villainy life before, but... he'll have to break it. For your sake and his.

So, Kai gets ahold of his contacts, gets Hari, manipulates some troubled minds into joint forces with him, get him the mommy and resources to get him quirk doctor to return his arms and leg functions and his quirk. Then he tracks down those men who broke into his home that night and has them and their entire generation completely tortured in the most painful way before killing them. And by now, he can't just return to his normal life. No, he's going to be head of the yakuza again because he's realised people only respect and fear you when you're powerful, and Kai will never let himself be weak ever again.

For the rest of the world, he's the old ruthless Kai. But for you, in the privacy of your room, he's the Kai you reformed, loved and married. Kai is still so soft and sweet with you, and ensures that you're not tainted, that you're still as pure as ever, that he loves you and always will. And sure, you see the changes in his personality, the ruthlessness in his eyes as he talks to others, the murderous glint, but you can't afford to be afraid of him when he's the only one who holds you and rocks you soothingly when you have nightmares from that... time.

And it's not like you can leave him if you wanted to, not when Kai's hold on you tightens everytime you try to part with him.

#yandere kai chisaki #yandere kai #yandere overhaul x reader #yandere overhaul #yandere bnha #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines #tw: noncon

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iloveyouinred · 9 months

Note

another brainrot coming in Kazuha getting you super drunk, and you think hes drunk as well but bros sober and just wanted to get you drunk for sex @///@

Yandere!Kazuha x Drunk!Reader

𓇬♡ | Warning: NSFW, dubcon, reader is intoxicated and a virgin, mention of alcohol, implying of obsessive behavior, etc.

𓇬♡ | Word Count: 2.1k

"Kazuha? Low alcohol tolerance? Hahaha.. Where did you get this false information from?" The Crux Captain laughed as if hearing you spit a joke. "He is one of the best at holding his liquor. I've never seen him drunk before." She continues her words, raises her eyebrow at your face that start to grows pale.

"So, what happened? Are you making a bet with him over a drinking contest?"

"If so, you better step down. Because you are playing a losing game here." She starts to pity you. With that confused and pale face, Beidou is sure the bet you made was a big one. If only she knew what happened the night before. If only she was on the ship to stop you from drinking with the Inazuma's fugitive. Your hands come up to support your head that began to throb.

"Kazu- nghh!" You couldn't complete your words when he is sucking your neck like that. Letting his sharp fang graze on your soft skin, wet hot tongue dragged towards your collar bone, lower to slit your cleavage. You brought your hands to your lips to cover your moans. His hand on your waist holding you closer. He has waited for this very moment to claim you. Having you lay limply against his arms. You melt under his touch. When you look down with teary eyes only to catch him watching you back with his face in deep red flush. His half lidded eyes meet your glistened one. While your hand reaches to touch his cheek. He put his other hand on top of it, closing his eyes with his chin resting on top of your chest.

"Kazuha.." He learns the doubt in your tone. Softly cooing you while he brings your hand down his face to intertwine both your hands.

"Shh.. Just enjoy it, okay Love?" If the breeze is a human sound, it will be in the form of Kaedehara Kazuha's. His whisper sweeps away the doubt in your heart. Replacing it with some kind of newfound feeling as you feel his hand slipped between your thigh, rubbing it oh so slowly. Sending a tingling sensation between your legs.

"Ah.. this is your first time, isn't it?"

You nod your head slowly. As he hummed in delight, whispering something along the lines 'don't worry' and 'I'll be gentle'. You know he isn't lying by how his hand touches your inner thigh, gently guiding you to spread your legs.

His question was a rhetorical one. Kazuha knows things about you quite well-too well in fact-even though you guys just met a few months ago. He was curious as to why you always seem to avoid him. One's research turns to basically asking around about you, later when he sees you on the street, he wanders not too closely, just to watch you from afar. After all, he doesn't want to scare you, and makes you feel more awkward around him. Overtime he understands little things about you, such as how you enjoy drinking on The Alcor with The Crux while playing some TCG card on saturday night-only when they docked at Liyue.

Night breeze doesn't make you shiver, in fact you enjoy it too much. Letting the cold breeze blow on your face as you close your eyes, looming over some less crowded corner of the ship where no one bothers to check. The sea was dark, but countless stars and the moon reflected on its surface. Alluring you to stare for a bit too long. While you were occupied with staring far away to the dark sea, Kazuha will come and lend you his jacket, with more cups of beer in hand. He is truly a sweet guy, you think. Still you have reasons to avoid him. And so you spare no thought on his lingering touch, like when he spent a minute too long to let go of the beer glass as your finger brushed on his. Or how he lets his arm wrap around your shoulders after putting his jacket on you. You know well not to let your heart waver.

His head goes down on you to kiss your inner thigh. You can't help but pant as he teases your lower part, hot tongue swirling on your clit. His hand pushed down your thigh, preventing it from closing around his face. Hair strains fall on his forehead, while his eyes trained on your expression as it changed into a pleasurable one. No wonder so many fell under his palm. You bite your lips as you feel a strange feeling building up. It's like something inside you about to burst. Did you get close from his tongue alone? That left you wonder, with how skillful the man under you playing with your other lips, how many other women has he tainted? The question dies on your lips as you feel his tongue teasing your wet hole. You were almost embarrassed by how lewd the sound it makes. If only not by the pleasure that is big enough to cover any other emotion.

A sweet moan slipped from your mouth finally, after he nudged the gummy spot. Unable to contain your voice any longer as the feeling becomes too intense with each movement of his tongue. You feel his finger rubbing on your clit, while he is still eating you out. At last it hits you, your first orgasm of the night. He was quick to lap on your pussy, as you came on his mouth, not leaving a single drop. Kazuha could spend forever eating you if he doesn't remember what he aimed for tonight. So he only spent long enough time eating you up until you are a wet mess, babbling his name while moaning and sobbing. Your protest fell into deaf ears. He doesn't stop when you say 'It's too much'. He can't. You are sucking him in, so how can it be too much for you. He is sure you can take it. It's just your first time coming so many times, that's why you might feel overwhelmed at first. But you will get used to it, and he will make sure of that.

When he finishes preparing you, finally revealing his throbbing cock in front of your pussy, you squirm from his grip unconsciously trying to get away from him. He holds you down, with a hand gripping both of your wrist on top of your head. He groans when he rubs the tip of his cock on your pussy lips. You moan back, clinging onto nothing as his length slowly inserts your hole. It was too much, you never felt so full in your entire life. When he starts to move slowly the feeling clouding your brain.

You sob as he moves in and out, feeling every inch of his cock rubbing on your gummy walls before it disappears leaving a strange empty feeling. Kazuha drags his cock slowly, letting you remember the taste of his cock. Every inch of it. His hand is playing with your nipple, while his mouth latches on your other side. Picking up his pace as he felt your hole adjusting to his size. Tears roll down your cheek as you feel your body tremble, too overwhelmed by the feeling. With your body already overly sensitive after he eats you out, you easily cum on his length. Kazuha groans at the way your hole clenches around him. Looking up just to see your face deep in pleasure, eyes roll back as he continue to fuck you.

"You are a naughty one, Love." His smile at you feels somewhat sinister than how he usually is. "Did you just come from me entering you?" You can't return his words as you feel he moves faster. Hitting your sensitive spot that he already memorised. You tremble from the over stimulation. Choked moans as you blabbering his name, trying to stop him with your squirm but feeling your hand binded by him and with his thrust that continuously hits your sweet spot, your body shudders. Hole creaming on him while moaning. You hear him grunts at how pretty you are. Eyes rolling back while tears staining your cheek. Moan fell off your lips like a melody to his ear. He kisses your neck, leaving more love mark while pounding into you nonstop.

You arch your back when he thrust deep enough to fill you with his cum. You felt the warm liquid flow in your womb. Trembling at the aftertaste of your orgasm. He stayed for a while inside of you. Engraving the warm feeling of his cum in you before he pulls out, letting the mixed liquid to drip out of your hole. Kazuha gives you a soft kiss. You, in your intoxicated state, return his kiss. With this, you are his now, right? You won't change your mind tomorrow, …right? He holds you closer with lips still latched on yours, devouring the sweet taste that he will long for after this day.

You were too busy regretting your choices. When a soft breeze blows on your neck, sending shivers all around your body.

"(Y/n)? I was looking for you."

To say he looks for you is an understatement. The man was frantically searching in every corner of the ship before he met you. For the fear that you figure out his scheme and leave the ship already. He almost had a heart attack realising you were not in his arms when he woke up this morning, you little sneak. He'll make sure to tie you to the bed next time just so you wouldn't run away. He smiled at you but the burden of your own thoughts makes it impossible for you to meet his gaze. Kazuha took notice of this. While Beidou excuses herself to let the both of you talk.

"What's wrong?" He murmurs in your ear softly, almost making you feel guilty as you faintly remember how he was gently handling you last night-well you remember only half of it. For an instant, you don't remember how you ended up on Kazuha's bed with the man on top of you. Shame on your mind, how can you accuse this man of setting you up, when it might be you who seduced him first. You shake your head slightly, still refusing to meet his eyes. It is such a mess. You strive for a peaceful life in some village near Liyue. So naturally you should avoid things that could possibly bring disturbance to your well planned future life. One of them is the guy that sits by your side now.

You were not really surprised when Beidou decided to bring a fugitive from Inazuma aboard in The Alcor. Sometimes her way of thinking is something you can't understand. But the moment she introduces this Kazuha guy, you keep in mind to avoid him at all cost. It was until he got you to drink with him when Beidou was absent. Which led to last night's disaster. You sigh as his hand rubs your shoulder gently, it was usually covered by bandage but now you can see his bare skin- which is not as smooth as you imagine it to be, the payment of when one pursues the path of samurai. That hand has touched every inch of your body. You flush at the thought, cursing at yourself silently.

"Kazuha, was I the one who threw us into this mess?" You finally spit out your thoughts meeting his gaze in a deep dilemma. You notice how his hand stops at your shoulder, seemingly surprised at your words.

"Mess?" He catches you diverting your eyes again. "...So that's what you think of what we did last night."

You watch as his head drops, half of his face shadowed by his bang. Only now did you realise his hair is untied, white strain fell on his shoulder, framing his jaw which softened his feature. If not for his toned body which is still prominent even under the clothes, he could be passed off as a woman because of his beauty alone. Your hand reaches out to tuck the white strain behind his ear. He looks up at you in silence.

"I am sorry." The words fell off your lips with a heavy sigh. You know your weakness at beauty, but the peacefull life you always dream of is at stake. The house you has buy from the money you collect for years. Everything is set and just a little more time before you can stop working and has a quick retirement. You can't risk losing that. And Kazuha know you can't fulfill his wish. But he can't afford to lose you either. Not after he got a taste of you.

#genshin smut #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x reader smut #genshin x female reader #kazuha smut #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #genshin kazuha #kazuha x y/n #kazuha x reader smut #ruby'sfic #genshin impact x female reader #anon ask

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garfunklefield · 7 days

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Could you do cult leader! geto I’m so feral for this like he doesn’t care about his followers but reader is just so pretty and he wants to make her his lover for the whole cult to see PLS IM FERAL N I LOVE YOUR WRITING <3

Red Ink

18+ viewer discretion is advised

fem!reader/cult leader!Suguru Geto Warnings: angst, pining, slowish burn not really, selling and technically kidnapping, the reader has a sad backstory KAY [implied physical abuse], age gap [Geto is 37 and reader is 24], forbidden romance, im gonna make the reader sassy dx, alternate AU where Geto is a cult leader but it's set in more of an ancient time YOULL SEE [kind of like my happy marriage], bathtub masturbation, bathtub sex, sexual tension, cumshot [breasts], masochist!Suguru Geto, hair pulling, Word count: 7221 DESC: Suguru Geto never thought about giving a monkey who couldn't wield jujutsu a chance ... until he met you.

Hiii!!! I just got sick so please be patient my posts might get spaced out for a bit until I recover but I really like this! I took a few [A LOT] creative liberties when writing :3

If you want a guarantee I will write and post your request in a timely fashion head over to my Ko-Fi!

Every morning it was the same routine. Suguru would wake up at 7:45 AM every morning to an empty bed, with the lights a dull orange color. They hung from the room's corners and lit up just enough to let him peer around. He slowly forced himself off the squeaky mattress, becoming accustomed to the sensation of the cold wood against his bare feet. A breath of air flowed through his nose as his hand lazily trailed through his robes, hanging in his large closet. There were so many to choose from, all almost the same. Although, some details were different. Blue trim vs yellow, or a red pattern vs green. In all honesty, he never cared much about his appearance. As long as he wouldn’t have to leave, he didn’t mind his daughters or servants doing the shopping for him. Maybe that’s why the leader's hair was too long to manage, so he would lazily put half of it up in a semi-orderly bun.

All of these people, and Suguru Geto was completely and utterly alone. He had no one who understood why he decided to become the leader of the Star Religious group so young, almost twenty years ago, at the ripe age of seventeen. All of his innocence was lost at such an age that he could feel a bitter taste rising on the back of his tongue. Bile. The taste of regret. Sometimes he looked out the window to some of the convent’s children playing in the courtyard, and he wished he had found a partner to aid him on his journey. No one ever caught his eye, no one ever piqued his interest. No one like …

Suguru shook his head and blinked a few times, sending himself out of an impending spiral and instead leaving it for another day. He looked over to his robes, where his hand clung to his signature robe, yellow trim with a green pattern sewn to the front. There was something so comforting about this robe. Maybe because it was the first one ever made for him by his monkey servants, the only monkeys he’d ever let near his person without choosing to disinfect himself afterward. They knew their place in society and acted accordingly. The only monkeys he could tolerate.

Another sound took him out of his thoughts, a knock on the door. He turned his head, “Come in,” was all he had to rasp. His voice was naturally soft, as he didn’t typically raise it past a whisper to most. Only when Suguru was truly enraged would he begin to scream and yell at those useless monkeys… but that was becoming rare now.

A tuft of pink hair appeared from the door as it opened, showing his secretary Manami. She strolled in as if she owned the room, opting to close the door with a push to her hip. The male watched her with an indifferent gaze as she tapped the rickety clipboard in her hand, “I found you a personal servant.”

“Personal servant? Why would I need that? I’m capable of dressing myself, you know,” as Suguru spoke he began to pull at his sheer robe, the one he slept in. His secretary looked up to the ceiling, avoiding any and all contact with his body as she possibly could.

She tapped a pen along the rim of the clipboard as she continued, “Someone to make the bed and cut your hair. It’s getting too long, sir.” Manami swiftly raised her hand and pointed to him with the pen, still avoiding his body with her eyes up. He raised an eyebrow at her, shrugging off the robe and setting it neatly on his bed. His jaw flexed as he clenched it, in thought. Would the leader of the Star Religious group need a personal maid to do every little thing he needed? I mean, it sounded appealing to have a monkey fetch him any useless thing he requested. Watching them spread themselves thin trying to appease him. His lips pulled together in a silent smile at that thought.

“What’s this servant's credentials?” Suguru pulled his robe off the hanger and blew on it lightly, ridding it of the dust it had collected throughout the week it had been since he wore it.

“Well she’s about 24, so past any good age to get married off,” she listed off, looking down at her clipboard as she spoke, “She’s worked in several different houses as a housekeeper and nanny, but she’s been let go for differing reasons.”

Geto slid on his robe and adjusted it until it fell across his muscular body, “Fired? Was she unruly or perhaps a pain in the ass?” A humorous tone took to his voice and Manami laughed in response, handing him the clipboard so he could see for himself. In a subtle sprawl, it wrote your name. It was interesting as he perused down the paper, stopping at the section where it detailed how you were let go: “Fired for talking back” and “Inappropriate conduct” happened to be recurring on the list, making the leader quirk an eyebrow. The last time he had anyone with some sense of personality was ages ago, as I previously stated my guy doesn’t raise his voice often. “What does she look like?” He asked, handing the clipboard back to the woman.

“I dunno. Why? Finally over your ex, Sugruuuuuuu?” Manami teased, a grin appearing on her face. However, it quickly disappeared as soon as he shot her a warning glare. Never bring up that name. Even edging around the subject, do not bring it up. Every servant and every secretary knew the leader’s past was a delicate subject. Never bring it up.

She cleared her throat and continued, “Her parents are the ones using her for labor money. We can undercharge them for an old hag and get full labor! ‘Course, she’d have to live here… but I can situate that,” she waved a hand in the air to dismiss that train of thought, “I think it’ll be good for you, sir. Maybe you can get some release.”

She did it that time. Suguru’s eyes shot up to hers and gave her a look that would have sent anyone running. Manami apologized instantly, bowing her head. Everyone also knew of their Emperor’s lack of sexual lovers, and his constant sexual frustrations. He had never been able to fully relieve himself, for well over twelve years. There was a pent-up hunger burning inside him and no one could satiate it no matter how much he tried.

“Hire her. I wish to get acquainted with my new personal servant.”

Your personality had always bounced back even in the face of adversity, maybe that’s why every household you’ve ever worked for had fired you. Life wasn’t easy for someone like you, in a family who didn’t prioritize you. All they wanted were sons and they were blessed with a daughter who couldn’t even marry, you were a disgrace. So they decided they would use you for money if they could, milking you for every cent you were worth. However, you couldn’t keep a job.

You started well-behaved and quiet, but soon the snippy comments would start. Then soon, you’d be making a scene, disrespectfully calling out your bosses for their treatment in a very public manner. Then they’d fire you instantly, making your family angry once more. It was a vicious cycle they couldn’t snap you from. You were never going to change until your father had announced you had been sold.

The Star Religious group had agreed to your purchase, giving your family a sum of money they hadn’t seen in their entire lifetime. It was enough for them to skip town and leave you in your own abandoned house. Rough. Of course, that money wouldn’t hold them afloat forever, but they didn’t realize it at the time. All you could think about was the fact you had been abandoned by the people you had been blessed to, the people who said they loved you.

You were never going to change until that day.

There was no use in fighting, because what happened after this? You’d have no one to back you up or a roof to sleep under. This time… you weren’t going to fuck it up. A carriage arrived at your vacant lot a day after your parents announced you were sold, leaving you alone with your thoughts. In a side bag were two kimonos, a compact, and a hair clip. You opened your rickety front door and peered over at the carriage with wide eyes. Normally a comment would fly out of your mouth, but you couldn’t even will yourself to speak. You didn’t have the will or energy to do anything more than sit and stare like a rock before a woman came out of it.

She was beautiful, with short pink hair and a purple dress. She shouted your name and clasped her hands together in front of her stomach, “Oh he’s going to like you very well. Sir Geto has a thing for submissive women.”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to laugh in her face and contradict her statement, nodding lifelessly, “I am grateful for this opportunity, Ms.”

“Ms. Manami Suda to you!” She grinned, stepping aside to let you walk inside the carriage. It was a dull red on the outside and the same interior-wise, nothing special. You didn’t note the patterns on the inner walls or how the cushion felt. In all honesty, you didn’t care. Even though it was mid-day, you found yourself fantasizing about sleeping in a cot that wasn’t made of pure shit material, maybe even with a pillow.

The carriage ride was quiet, aside from the occasional comment from Manami about how you didn’t have the monkey smell. Oh, that’s right… they were Jujutsu Sorcerers. You or anyone in your family for that matter were not blessed with the sorcerer gene, so you truly didn’t understand what it meant. Instead of speaking you nodded politely and let a fake small smile grace your lips, as if you were actually listening to her. The countryside was beautiful, the ride taking you deep into the middle of nowhere. Then you saw it, large buildings all coupled together to create a convent. They were tan with brown bamboo roofs, slanted to a point on the top. Incredibly gorgeous. You had always fantasized about building your own buildings one day, admiring from afar. But you weren’t built for that lifestyle.

It was only ever going to be a fantasy for you it seemed.

The two of you entered the convent in silence, taking in the architecture. It was gorgeous, something you had seen from far away but never dared to venture to up close. You resisted so many urges to run your hand along the columns of the outdoor hallways that lined the outdoor courtyard in the center, where many of the children played. They all looked happy and free, something you found yourself envying.

“Lord Geto is right this way,” Manami spoke eagerly, walking ahead of you and motioning around, “Get used to it kid, you’ll be spending a lot of time here,” she then glanced back at you, a smile branding her lips, “Don’t get smart.” To her, she didn’t think that you were the same girl with the smart mouth that had been let go so many times. In some ways, you weren’t the same. You were so completely and utterly done with your life you couldn’t bring yourself to even have an ounce of personality you once did.

The rest of the walk was quiet before she turned on her heels to the right and motioned to a large door. It was red, with golden trim around the edges. You couldn’t see inside but you knew exactly what lay behind those doors. Manami took your bag from you politely and knocked a few times on the door, hearing some shuffling and seeing them open. Two guards opened the door, their faces stone-cold and stoic. They were almost scary looking, but nothing prepared you for the man who was behind them. He sat on a mound of pillows, head resting in his palm, and his eyes glued to you. In every sense of the word he was gorgeous, you had never seen anyone that beautiful. And he could say the same about you.

Suguru’s eyes widened just a tad as he took in your person. You were beautiful, looking hand-carved from a cloud by the finest god, wine drunk on nothing but your beauty alone. How could this be? No non-sorcerer should have ever made him stare for longer than a few seconds. Manami noticed, hell, everyone but you noticed. He blinked once, then twice, pulling him out of the trace you had put over him, a delicate smile gracing his lips. He spoke your name and used his free hand to beckon you over.

You did as you were told, walking into the room silently. But you hadn’t seen the rug placed before you or the corner of that small table. You found yourself hitting the side of the table with your right ankle, then tripping forward, completely slipping due to the rug. It was within seconds you were face down to the ground, letting out an astonished gasp. That was it. You had done it. You had tripped in front of the most notorious non-sorcerer-hating Sorcerer in the entire country. You had made a complete and utter fool of yourself and that was going to be the end of your life. A sad and embarrassed blush filled your cheeks and hollowed out your temples, waiting for your punishment.

“I’m… so very sorry,” you managed to mumble, lifting your head from your crouched position. You didn’t hear Suguru lean forward, changing his position to kneel in front of you, and you didn’t expect him to be leaning over you so closely. His face looked down at you with a different kind of softness, raven strands of hair falling over his ears.

“Nonsense. It happens to the best of us… sit up,” he purred, whispering a magical tune in your ear. In any other person, this caring persona would have elicited a feeling of trust and safety. But you found this to be resulting in a different kind of reaction. Suguru’s brow furrowed ever so slightly when you sat up, moving to sit on your knees in front of him, and stared at him with … fuck me eyes?? No one had ever lusted after him so obviously and that quickly too! I mean he was Suguru fucking Geto, for crying out loud- he was supposed to be scary, not sexy! Well… maybe both.

He blinked slowly to reset his thoughts, letting a gentle hand swipe past her cheek and softly hold her chin. Geto spoke your name lowly as he tilted your head to one side, taking in your features. It was nothing more than a pass over to see you fully, but you had completely soaked your underwear. Yeah, that’s right, you weren’t scared of him you were aroused. It felt even more embarrassing because it was incredibly obvious your fear-torn stare had turned into something more objectifiying.

You were just picturing him leaning in and whispering sweet nothings as his voice broke your thoughts, “Your name is very pretty.” His voice brushed against your ears and once he retracted his hand back, a small frown parted your lips. His touch was warm and soft, contrasting the devilish stare Suguru typically wore. You wanted to relish in it for a few more moments, but you couldn’t live in a fantasy, now could you?

“Thank you, sir,” you replied, looking down to your lap. You just felt your wetness create an uncomfortable pool in your underwear, making it hard not to squirm. Especially with those naturally beautiful eyes staring at you with a hidden curiosity.

Aside from the obvious lust radiating off of your person, you were a hard individual to read. Geto was getting mixed signal after mixed signal from your face he decided to sigh and ignore whatever he was feeling at that moment, opting to go over the business side of things. “You will become my personal servant, focussing on cooking, cleaning, and fulfilling my everyday needs. Understood?”

You nodded as he continued, “I would let Manami show you to your room… but it appears she’s wandered off,” he motioned to the slightly open door behind you, “I don’t mind showing you.” With that, the emperor stood up and cleared his throat, brushing his big hands against his robe. You watched with wide eyes as it flowed around him, making him appear more majestic than he actually was. You found yourself standing up and following your new boss, opting not to speak or do anything to draw more attention to yourself.

As the two of you walked, the columns lining the walls took hold of your mind. The patterns in the wallpaper were one thing in itself, but the structure of the clearly customized columns made your heart flutter. It was gorgeous. Dragon scales dipped into the wall before coming out, in the middle of every door that lined the long indoor hallway. Your feet slowed to a stop, staring at the gold dragon trim. Your hand inched toward it slowly, just one touch to see the type of material. Suguru hadn’t noticed you wandered off until he turned and in the corner of his eye, he saw you stroke the wall. At first, he wanted to do the dick thing and clear his throat, embarrassing you. But something stopped him. You were as pretty as that dragon, the gold reflecting off your skin and making you practically glow in the dim light. You were gorgeous. Stunning even. It was strange, he had never felt himself this attracted to anyone in his life. Aside from- never mind.

The leader slowly walked back, making his way behind you. You were tolerable to be around, tolerable for a monkey. That was something he had to remind himself about. You were still a non-sorcerer. You were still inferior to him in every sense of the word. Whatever feelings were creeping into his chest and making his heart sing had to get shut away in that instant, so he did the dick move and cleared his throat.

Your hand was on one of the scales and you froze, turning your head with the speed of light to meet his gaze. “Lord… Please forgive me,” you blurted out, turning on your heel and pressing both hands to your chest, “I’m very sorry. I should never have gotten distracted. I’m sorry,” you squeaked, shutting your eyes tight. You knew what was bound to come… either a physical punishment or your letter of unemployment. Before Suguru could even respond, you lifted your head and tilted it to the side, motioning to your cheek.

His eyebrow quirked up. He had never seen a servant ask for a punishment for their own wrongdoings, especially when it wasn’t that severe. A strange pang hit his chest, causing a weight to form across his own heart. What had happened in your sad life that made you so prone to letting people do things like that to you? This wasn’t the woman he was expecting. When you walked in, terrified and shy, then … horny, he thought he had gotten the wrong girl. Something must have happened for you to change like that. Maybe your obvious attraction was a hint of the personality you were hiding. Then Suguru had another question: why were you hiding your personality? The first duh answer was so you wouldn’t get fired right away, right? But he felt like there was something more.

Something he shouldn’t have cared about. You were a non-sorcerer, a monkey! It was forbidden on all accords.

Suguru blinked a few times, taking himself out of his weird spiral of thoughts to look at your face, contorted with worry, “It’s … alright. I wasn’t aware you liked architecture,” he motioned to the dragon’s golden bodice on the wall, “That was custom made from…” You let your boss explain how the dragon was made and imported, listening to every word. You didn’t want to speak and ruin your only chance at a new life. This was the one and only time you had ever held your breath, stopping any words from coming out.

After a moment, the male paused and looked over you once more. Something was turning over inside his head and he so desperately wanted an answer. What was going on inside your head and what had deflated your personality so? What had made you turn yourself into a shell of the person he knew was still in there? …And why was he longing to see this? But he said nothing. The moment had passed and as quickly as you wandered off, you were shown to your room. If Geto had let himself unravel any further he would have requested her to accept a binding vow of pure honesty, with the promise of his protection. Why? Why was she pulling at his mind and making him lose it?

That night, he set himself a bath. The water splashed and made small waves as he dipped his feet into it, before submerging his large body. There was something so very calming about a bath to clear his mind… but he couldn’t rid it of you. Of your face, of your monkey smell, or your body. Even though the kimono you were wearing was a size too big, he still made sure to look you over subtly. He took in your large curves and bit his lip, thinking about them as he sat by himself. He was completely and utterly alone, in spirit and in a literal sense. Of course, he’d get a morning erection every now and then, but it had been a long time since something had turned him on just from the thought of it.

One of Suguru’s hands dipped into the water and grabbed ahold of his meaty cock, dragging a hand up and down his length. It was foreign, but coming back to him like muscle memory. He didn’t want to savor this orgasm to the thought of a lowly monkey, he wanted to get it over with then pretend it never even happened. He wanted to pretend this was all some strange dream he was forced into… not at all something that was going to be plaguing him. He inhaled sharply and leaned his head back, resting his back against the edge of the bathtub. The water was coming up to his mid stomach, warming up his lower half. His pleasure was a gradual build, but he was trying his hardest to rush it. The leader wanted nothing more than to cum and then forget it. His hand tightened around his shaft, stroking upwards to find any sense of release. It was a few seconds before he came, rolling his hips a few times at the new sensation. It was a build of pure warmth before he felt his fluids ooze out of his tip with heavy force. It sprung into the water and contaminated it with his filthy seed.

It was enough to make him grimace. A non-sorcerer made him so hot and bothered he was forced to spill all over himself, in the bath no less! First, he felt an odd sense of attraction to you… now he wanted nothing to do with it. If it was going to keep him feeling this way, Suguru wanted nothing to do with you. Even if you were beautiful, and you smelt good, and your skin was soft. He could feel it on his fingertips, a psychosomatic warmth radiating off of his hands.

This was not going to be good for him. You were not going to be good for him.

You woke up at 9 AM sharp, not by choice. Manami shook you a few times, forced you out of your comforting dream, and made you sit up on the small cot you had gotten as your bed. It was more than you could have ever asked for, even if it was made for someone a bit smaller than you. So was your new kimono. They had a dress code for servants to differentiate them, and clearly whoever was the last servant didn’t have a very large … bust. You stared at yourself in the mirror, seeing your form ache to be freed from the tight clothing. The buttons didn’t go all the way down, exposing a bit of cleavage, and it tore a bit at the small of your back. Manami wasn’t much help either, opting to snicker at you and roll her eyes. You wanted to bite back and say something to get her riled up, but you never found your strength. Instead, you took it and nodded.

“Okay so, Sir Geto’s room is the one to your left. Go ahead and start his bath. Don’t try to wake him up, though. He’ll be all grumpy if you do,” she explained, motioning wildly with her hands. She was a very extroverted person. Someone you would’ve gotten along with if you didn’t feel like absolute dog shit at that very moment. You nodded your head politely and exited the room, opening your bosses.

It was neat, with barely any decor. Gas lanterns hung from the walls dimly, always keeping the room somewhat illuminated. You tried your hardest not to look at his sleeping form, but you caved. He was so gorgeous it made you pussy throb just from looking at him. His face was resting peacefully against his pillow, some black hairs sprawled against his forehead. His hair was long, longer than you expected, flowing behind him on his bed. And he was wearing what appeared to be a sheer robe. You swallowed and made your way into his bathroom, almost slipping on the excess water left behind from his previous night's bath. You were innocent enough not to question the pile of tissues on the counter, pushing them into the small garbage pail. Then it was a matter of setting up his bath.

In a cabinet hidden by a curve in the wall, you noticed some aromatic bath salts and other essential oils. One of the households you worked for was very into the essential thing, so you had an idea of what scents went together. You didn’t want Geto to smell like a whole mixture of things, but rather one family of scents. You chose a vial of rosemary, lavender, and peppermint oil, hoping it would go together. The bath turned on with a single turn of the knob. Your hands rested on the base of the tub, feeling the water to make sure it wasn’t too hot. It got to the perfect temperature and you put the stopper on the drain, letting it fill up. In the meantime, you sat on the edge of the bathtub and peered around the bathroom. It was again, tidy and austere. He didn’t have an eye for decorating or he didn’t enjoy it.

You heard a faint groan in the bedroom, signaling Suguru was waking. You inhaled the smell of rosemary and turned on your side to watch as it spilled one drop at a time from the vial. Then fell the peppermint, followed by the lavender. The scent filled the bathroom in an aromatic fashion, filling your senses with a sudden calm. Was it some kind of drug concoction? It was a smell that made you lean back and sigh, filling you with a sense of safety in your surroundings.

“Good morning,” Suguru spoke, a raspy edge to his voice. Your eyes shot open from their closed state and you stood up, clasping your hands on your chest to hide your cleavage. But you hadn’t seen him staring at you from the bathroom door. He leaned against the doorframe, in only his thin nighttime robe, and stared at your thick breasts. The fabric was so tight, it pulled gaps between each button. He had to admit it, it was hot. Even if you were a filthy monkey, you were a hot filthy monkey. A hot filthy monkey with a banging body.

“Lord Geto, I was preparing your bath,” you stepped to the side and motioned to the filling water. He caught a glimpse of your back as you turned to turn the knob to the water down to a stop. He saw the tear and the bit of your lacey underwear peeking out from underneath it. Was he that much of a monster that the first time a beautiful non-sorcerer appeared, he’d cave and melt?

It was starting to feel that way as something came out of his mouth, “How do you feel about me? …Honestly.”

You opened your mouth to respond, on autopilot, before you closed it as quickly as you opened it. What could you say? You found him attractive and you wanted him to breed you? You couldn’t exactly say that, so instead you opted for something more generic, “I think you’re a very respectable leader and emperor to your coven.”

Bull. Shit. Suguru knew it was a lie and he knew you knew it as well. He didn’t have a reputation for being respectable in any sense of the word. He was a cold-blooded killer who’d murder anyone who wronged him in any way. A cold-blooded killer who was beginning to have a strange soft spot for you…

“Tell me this,” he took a step forward, “if you vow to never lie to me again … I vow to protect you from getting fired, no matter what.” Was he seriously going to bindingly vow himself to some non-sorcerer? Was he seriously going to do this because he wanted to know how he was perceived?

“...Really?” You asked, your mouth opening slightly. All he wanted was honesty?? You could do that! You could do that so well!!

“Really,” Geto took another step forward and began to undo the tie holding together his robe. You had made it a point to stare at his face, but you were aching to quickly glance down below his belt. Just for a second.

“Okay. I swear…” You looked away and bit your bottom lip for a moment. You’d have to be honest now. You looked back at the man and let a smile appear on your face, “I think you’re more hot than you are scary.”

Suguru’s eyes widened. That’s not at all the kind of tonal shift he had expected from you. He expected you to admit some kind of vague attraction and perhaps that he was a terrifyingly charismatic leader. But… he got a response which made an embarrassed blush fill his temples.

“I’m .. hot?” He raised an eyebrow, pulling off the robe and letting it fall to the floor. Your eyes didn’t shy away now, making direct eye contact with his flaccid cock. It was beautiful even in that state, making your mouth hang open just a bit more. It was huge too. Thoughts of his girth stretching out your tiny pussy flooded into your thoughts. He could fuck you so good with that thing. And his voice… it was perfect.

“A lot of you is hot,” you looked back at his face, which was an excruciatingly bright shade of red. No one had ever felt this comfortable to objectify Suguru this way to his face. He couldn’t deny the fact he was growing to enjoy it. And grow in other ways. He took a few more steps forward, hands reaching out and pulling you closer to his front.

“You’re being filthy, not honest,” a small smirk graced his lips as he stared down at you with half-lidded eyes, beaming with lust.

“I can do both,” you returned a smile. A weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You had complete and utter job security. That’s all you could have ever wanted in your entire life, just a place to stay. Even if it meant working with this hot guy for the rest of your life, you didn’t mind. Although, he thought of you as inferior, you didn’t care. That’s what did it. Your personality had been led out of its cage and shown to Suguru’s perverted gaze. He realized what kind of person you were from your few sentences. You were just as much of a pervert as he was. The tonal shift was enough to make you realize what his next plans were, especially when he let his big hands snake around your waist.

“This is,” Suguru let out a breath and craned his head down, brushing his lips past your ear, “Very wrong… But I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to kiss you, pretty girl,” he cooed, using his free hand to tilt your chin up to face him as he pulled his face back. You both looked at each other’s features for a moment without anything. What was there to say? You could feel him throbbing between your legs with that massive log he had attached to his front. It was hot. You just wanted to trail your hand down his chest and watch him shiver when you got to his v-line.

“You can’t fire me… so I don’t care,” two hands found themselves placed on his bare chest, running up and down his pectorals, “Am I too lowly for you, sir?” You purred, looking back up at him with a lustful expression. It was all you had to say before he proved you wrong. Devastatingly slow, he brought your lips together. The hand on your chin disappeared, moving to rest upon your ass. You sighed into the kiss, molding your lips together in perfect synchronization. It was as if his mouth was made for you, pulling you into sensations you had never felt before. The kiss didn’t last long before he pulled back and looked down at you with an unmistakable expression. He was going to fuck the living shit out of you. It was written on his face from the way he was clearly thinking about how to go about it. There was a bathtub full of aromatic water, waiting to be used… You looked down at the tub and looked back at him. You two didn’t have to say anything as his hands grabbed at the hole from the back of your kimono and ripped it. It made a loud tearing sound and he continued to pull, until little to no fabric hung from your breasts.

You gasped and looked down at the mess he had made, moving to undo your underwear, then you looked at his cock. It was just aching to be touched in some way. Your hand found his tip and started to stroke down his shaft, then up. Who knew a non-sorcerer's hands would feel phenomenal compared to his own? Suguru let out a faint groan, leaning into your touch. He had never let himself take pleasure in things, ever since his breakup [at KFC] twenty years ago… but now it felt different. He felt like he had one chance to do this and he wasn’t going to spoil it. Your hands were so warm, he could just imagine how warm your mouth would be, gagging on his length.

Large hands cupped your ass and lifted your body, causing you to exclaim loudly and wrap your arms around his neck for stability. He was so strong, you could hardly believe it. It was pure talent and genetics that made him perfect on every level. His face was godly and his body was sculpted from the heavens just for your perverted stare. The male set you down gently in the tub, being mindful to make sure you didn’t land too hard on your plush backside. He wanted to save the bruising on your skin for when it was from him. He wanted his hands to be the ones leaving imprint after imprint on your skin, slapping and grabbing without a care for what would be left behind. He plopped down into the water, not caring if he got water to spill from the sides. He didn’t care about anything, because his hands and eyes were glued to you. His hands hooked around your hips and pulled you onto his lap, still being mindful not to hurt you.

You grinned and leaned forward, pushing strands of ebony-colored hair across his forehead and away from his beautiful eyes. Purple, they stared back at you gently. “This… is nice,” you spoke softly, pressing your lips first on his forehead, then his nose, before landing on his lips. It was chaste, as the first kiss had been. But it didn’t stay that way for long. Suguru’s tongue slipped its way into your mouth and took over with a dominating force, making you bite back a whimper. It felt so good. He knew exactly how to move it to elicit whatever reaction he pleased. Your hands raked through his hair, before grabbing fistfuls at the root and moaning into his mouth. He liked that, moaning with you.

“...Harder,” he mumbled against your open mouth, kissing back for more.

“What a pretty little masochist,” you smiled, running your hands through the roots of his hair before clenching them down and yanking up another fistful, hearing him whine in his low gravelly voice. Fuck… it just made you so wet. You clenched your thighs together as you kissed up his face, pulling his hair just to hear the ardor-esc moans fill the room. This was even better than sex, just hearing him get a little bit of pleasure out of this hair-pulling would’ve been satisfactory. But as you did this, you felt his hands fondle your ass, squeezing and palming your skin. It wasn’t long before he lifted you and had you position his throbbing dick against your folds.

You had never felt a dick this good penetrate you in your life. Something about the way it curved to the left and the bulbous head, touched areas you didn’t even know you had, just on the way down. You threw your head back in a breathy whine, rocking your hips back and forth once you felt yourself hit the base of his cock. Suguru used his two hands to help you slide up his length, then down again. He had you trapped in a rhythm of fucking your tight cunt with his member, making you his fuck toy. The male had never felt himself slip into such a trace over a monkey of all people. Non-sorcerers should have not had this hold on him, but you were different. You gasped and bit down on your hand to stop a loud groan escaping your mouth, with your breasts bouncing with each thrust.

“Dirty slut,” Suguru uttered, biting on his bottom lip to stop his own noises from getting too loud. No one could figure out this was happening. It was wrong. It was against everything he had ever stood for. But …god it felt so good. Your walls clenched around him every time he forced you down on his length, taking the time to feel up your hips and ass. You were so soft, inside and out. The perfect toy he could use.

It didn’t take him long to feel close, a familiar pang of desire creeping up the shaft of his cock. You were beyond ready to cum, with this log inside you it wouldn’t take long. You bit down on your fingertips and cried out, not having time to muffle your wails of pleasure. It was a warmth you hadn’t felt in such a long time wash over your whole vagina, flushing out through your body next. You convulsed, grinding your hips back and forth to continue to elongate your high for as much as possible, causing a second orgasm on your way down. No one had ever made you cum like that, making you dumbfounded by the sheer will of their dick.

The cult leader felt himself throbbing for release, but as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t do it inside you. There couldn’t be any evidence of your joint mistake running around in nine months, not here. Instead, he pulled you off his cock and pressed his lips together, “Press your…” He motioned to your breasts then his cock, “So I can…” You nodded and pressed your tits together, pushing them up against the length of his dick. That was all he needed, using his left hand to finish the job. He focused his energy on the swollen tip, leaking precum and begging to release all over your mounds of perfect flesh. Mounds he wanted so desperately to put in his mouth and suck.

Then he came, splattering out of his cock and messily coating your tits. Most of the cum was on your skin, although half of it also found its way into the water. You bit your lip as he came and thrust into the air, into nothing. It was like volt after volt of pure pleasure was shot through his urethra and forced out in one big release, a release he didn’t know he was even capable of. Your cunt had felt so good it made Suguru’s dick completely sensitive to any kind of touches, including his own. So when he came, he let out a loud whine, in his devilishly low voice, “F-fuck… mmm shit.. This was.. Hah.. a mis-mistake,” he breathed out, trying to regulate himself after he had just felt an explosive orgasm run through his penis.

You nodded and looked down at your breasts, coated in his cum. How were you going to explain to Manami that all of your clothes mysteriously wound up torn in Lord Geto’s bathroom? And how were you going to explain the fact you were also covered in Lord Geto’s cum?

“...Can I call you Suguru now?” You asked after a moment, tilting your head to the man who looked as though he had just run a marathon.

There was something utterly interesting about your personality now that you had freed it from your nervous shackles. Suguru didn’t want to extinguish this new fire in your eyes, he wanted to foster it and let it burn. There was no way he was developing some kind of feelings for you other than lust… there was no way. But there were going to be dramatic changes now. After that day, you were treated as one of the regular Sorcerers, which infuriated Manami to no end. You were the most prized possession of Suguru Geto and everyone knew not to anger or upset you because he would get wind of it. Then… there’d be trouble. You were his prized possession. The possession he wanted to see smile and laugh in the sunlight, rather than stay inside and do mindless chores. The possession he wanted to have slept next to him in his bed at night and wrapped his large arms around.

The possession he was growing to… love.

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izvmimi · 1 year

Text

cw: smut. minors dni. fem!reader is a brat and izuku’s kind of a bully tbh. brat taming energy. there’s a fair bit of dialogue. horny then turns soft.

izuku won’t tell you this up-front, but he secretly loves it when you’re mad at him.

not if he’s truly done something to wrong you in some way - he would never dream of wanting to hurt your feelings after all - but when you’re throwing a sometimes silent, sometimes not-so-silent tantrum that falls just short of making any damn sense, it gives him a little bit of glee, hidden in the sparkle of his green eyes.

“say that again, sweetheart?”

you’d started all of a sudden, as usual, sighs that were a little too heavy as you sulked around the house, short responses, a furrow in your brow. he’s been tolerating your mood all evening, because as usual, he is far more patient than you are, and now you’ve run out of passive and are leaning heavily into aggressive.

your snippy reply comes without hesitation.

“i can’t stand you,” you hiss. your voice is sweet venom when you rack up a fuss over something silly, and your tantrums, especially when they’re thinly veiled bids for attention, are terribly amusing to him.

the scrunch and twist of your features to portray contempt right now as he watches you declare your discontent... they awaken something in him; there’s a fair bit of excitement at the prospect of mollifying you into appropriate behavior.

he’s going to enjoy breaking you down.

“oh, is that so?” he asks, his tone inquisitive and slightly condescending.

“yes.” you keep your voice even and clear.

you’re folding laundry now, refusing to let him help, but keeping your eyes focused on the television in front of you, and he’s given you a healthy amount of distance poring through a set of worn notebooks at the dinner table. he sits directly in your line of sight and he can feel the intensity of your pout.

he sighs but the sound is light. leaning back into his chair, he throws a look at you over his shoulder and his goading grin is wide and obnoxious.

“you know if you want me to fuck you, you can just ask. use your words, honey.”

a pillow goes sailing through the room in the direction of his face blazingly fast.

“fuck you.”

he’s caught it, eyes playful and predatory.

“i’d love to.”

your voice is warning as he moves quickly, just faster than you can perceive. one minute he is seated several feet away from you and he pisses you off more than anything you can imagine at the moment, and the next minute he’s knelt in front of you, eyes level with yours. your heart pounds.

“get away from me,” you warn, your face warming up as you draw your legs in.

“make me,” he says, sweetly.

you mean to push only semi-roughly against his chest, but your arm goes through the space between his chest and his arm and he clamps down with his bicep just enough to trap you, and when you gasp in surprise, he grips you by the chin with his other hand.

the action is too smooth and too earnest. dark eyelashes bat at you playfully and he pouts as though he is the most innocent lamb in existence. he really is too pretty and it only makes you angrier.

“you really don’t like me?” he says in a sad voice, a playful frown.

“i hate you.”

izuku smiles even wider, ready to play.

---

your whining is incessant now but at least this time the whining is of the more sexual kind, the high-pitched cries and wails of someone who is receiving just a bit more stimulation than she can handle, legs spread firmly apart as you sit in his lap and back pressed against his broad chest. his fingers pump quickly in and out of your center, and you melt against him with every pant as his fingers work you to unfair amounts of pleasure. it’s the exact reason why you hate him, the fact that he can so easily play you like putty, begging him for more - more love, more love, more love.

izuku bites your ear gently as your back arches against him, the hold he has you in with his arm around your midsection unbreakable. sucking, nipping at your neck and shoulders with soft, repetitive touches of your clit with the tips of his fingers unrelenting.

“you don’t sound like you hate me,” he teases.

you are breathless, working yourself into a frenzy onto his thick fingers.

“i-izuku! you-” you hiss his name, and he’s still unsatisfied with the defiance in your voice. his fingers curl and you see white, and he rubs your back as you cum with no reservation onto his digits, onto his calloused hand.

your head spins, but he’s not done breaking you down as you come down from your high. quickly he lays you onto your back, leaning just a little bit of his weight onto you as he rests above, chin propped up by his elbows on either side of your body.

you’re a curious sight. messy, your complexion deepened by lust, the smallest tears in the corner of your eyes. cute. his.

“are you still mad?” he asks tentatively.

“stop making me cum every time you annoy me!” you argue, then close your eyes shut in embarrassment as you see him stifle a laugh. you sound silly.

“stop being a brat and i won’t try to fuck it out of you,” he replies simply. you give him a fierce look and he smiles again and before you can realize your mistake, he’s poking at your center again with his thick cockhead.

he plays with your puffy pussy lips, the leak of pre and your wetness allowing him to glide playfully against the labia, teasing you. you shudder as you wait for entry; it doesn’t come.

in fact, he’s taking his time, humming a tune under his breath even. your blood boils.

“stop playing with me, ‘zuku!” you complain again.

“behave,” he whispers. his breath tickles your face as he draws in close, kissing your forehead.

you would open your mouth to say something sassy, but the craving is there to be filled already, his heat against your heat forming a knot in your stomach. he watches you contemplate, entertained.

his fingers trail the side of your face.

“don’t you have something to say, love?”

you begrudgingly shake your head.

“so am i going to fuck someone who’s mad at me or someone who loves her ‘zuzu very much?” he asks. he’s still playing with your hair and your head and shifts back, so that you no longer feel his cock against your entrance but rather laying hot and hard on your lower belly. you physically ache.

fidgeting under him, you wrap your arms around his neck.

“p-please.”

horny desperation looks adorable on you, he thinks, but a little more folding is necessary.

“p-please, what?”

“please...” you mull the nickname in your mouth again,” please, ‘zuzu”

he smiles.

“and what does my sweet baby girl who isn’t throwing tantrums want?”

you furrow your eyebrows.

“izuku!”

he frowns back. “that’s not very sweet,” he tsks. “bad girls don’t get cock, unfortunately.” he starts to pull back and your legs tighten around him in a panic.

“no! don’t.” you grit your teeth. “fine!” you force yourself to soften, then look up at him again with the sweetest, most pacifying look you can muster. “can you fuck me ‘zuzu? please? want your cock to fill me up, please?”

he’s obviously pleased that you’ve broken once again.

“of course, sweetheart.” there’s a soft caress of your cheek that comes with the realignment of his hip against yours, that press of his cock flush to your folds that makes your stomach flip.

you murmur his name again, softly, gently, and his heart softens too.

a precious little headache you are.

he slips inside you, groaning a little in time with your mewls as he nestles inside, making space for himself as he fills you up. even if you’re obnoxious at times, you still give way to him, even if he has to be a little forceful. you’re as soft as your insides around him, tender and gentle as your skin dampened by sweat and desire, and as sweet as the tastes of your juices on his tongue.

"do you love me?” he whispers into your skin as he cradles you in his arms. he’s no longer teasing but asking for real. and you always respond the same.

“more than anything. no matter what i say.”

he feels the same.

more than everything. no matter what.

#izuku x reader #izuku smut #izuku midoriya smut #deku smut #izuku x reader smut #daydreams: bnha #thoughts: izuku #mimi's notes #mimi's izu <3

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junosmindpalace · 1 year

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Heyy !! I love your saik k fic !!

Can I request a saiki kusuo x reader hcs in which the reader is a kind and sweet girl and kinda like itadori from jjk?? She extremely loyal and loving towards saiki

Thank you !! If u don't wanna write this it's okk :))

a/n: hi anon! thank you for your request and patience!

-You may not always understand Saiki, but you always jump in to help and defend him whenever the situation calls for it.

-Whether it be from uncomfortable situations or pushy people, you step in where you can to help the psychic out, knowing that he wasn’t a fan of social encounters.

-Your kindness is something Saiki appreciates beyond relief, and he takes solace in being able to simply exist around you without you annoying him or intruding into his business.

-You’re mindful of not only his privacy and comfort, but also of others’, and you do your best not to make anyone uncomfortable.

-Your sweet and genuine nature, even if not intentional, helps Saiki get through his days at school. Whether it be you mumbling to yourself about a low grade or debating with your friends about something, Saiki can’t help but smile or chuckle under his breath.

-Bringing treats over to his house as an apology when you drop in unexpectedly. He acts annoyed but he’s truly not bothered (especially when you’re bringing him desserts).

-Rummaging through his video games and marathoning shows with him on weekends and long breaks off from school.

-Though you don’t push a lot especially if you see Saiki upset over it, you definitely encourage him to be more social and allow himself to have fun with others.

-Sticks closer to you in group settings because he knows you can help him get out of tricky situations.

-Thanking him profusely every time he uses his powers to help you with something. You always tell him it's unnecessary but are grateful that he helps you nonetheless. Even with your constant insistence, he still tells you it’s more efficient.

-Subconsciously reciprocating the affection and care you show Saiki by him also helping you out of uncomfortable situations and paying attention to your habits and tells.

-Exasperated by your patience with others, but also finds it admirable.

-Impressed whenever you show off a particular skill by accident, even more so when you brush off any praise, especially if you demonstrate incredible athletic prowess.

-His parents are enamoured with you, especially since on the surface, it seems as if you two are complete opposites. They’re thankful their son has someone so kind-hearted looking after him and always welcome you into their home with open arms.

-Never tolerates disrespect toward you, especially if you only ever want to help. He usually uses his psychic powers to get back at bullies or rude people in general. Makes sure to be subtle about it though, because he knows you would scold him about it if he got caught.

-Generally does his best to look after you, especially since you're always looking after him. And though he isn't very vocal about it, he appreciates your meddling into his life more than he's ever able to convey.

#kusuo saiki x reader #kusuo saiki hcs #kusuo saiki headcanons #kusuo x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki k headcanons #saiki k x reader #saiki k imagines #saiki k hcs #the disastrous life of saiki k oneshot #the disastrous life of saiki k headcanons #the disastrous life of saiki k x reader

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ghost-with-a-teacup · 10 months

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hi!! i have a platonic req for miguel x chaotic teen reader who has a bad relationship with her dad, just a man who lost his daughter and a girl who never had a proper father.. what could go wrong..(im a slut for found family)

𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Platonic!Reader

Summary: After a really bad fight with your father, you escape to HQ, the one place you can find solace. To take your mind off things, you go on a mission with Miguel, but it seems you're a little too in your head.

Warnings: Arguments, swearing, and violence in the beginning so be cautious.

A/N: Finally back with some good ol' hurt/comfort, and found family :3

✧✧✧✧✧

“I’m sick and tired of having the same argument with you over and over again!” you say, the anger rising in your veins as your frustration bubbles over. You blink harshly as you try to force the angry tears down, your father seething angrily in front of you.

“Ever since Mom died, you’ve been unbearable. I’m an adult, you can’t control my life anymore pretending like it's love when I know damn well you don’t give a flying fuck about me,” you say, pointing an angry finger at him.

“WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE TALKING TO,” he shouts, stomping over and grasping your hair harshly as you let out a yelp.

“I give you a roof to live under, food to eat. I raised you, I am your father, and you think you can back talk me you brat?” he spits in your face, and your recoil in disgust.

It was always like this. He justified giving you the bare minimum as being a father, when the house you lived in was never really a home. Not after your Mom died, when everything fell apart.

When you became your world’s Spiderman.

“You were a spectator in my life, you were never truly my father,” you whisper harshly as his grip tightens on your hair. His eyes narrow at yours before he throws you to the ground harshly.

“Get out,” he says.

“W-what?” you ask, your body radiating with pain from the impact.

“GET OUT!” he shouts, leaning over you menacingly. “You think you’re so grown, then get the fuck out of my house because I am sick and tired of you. You don’t think I’m your father? Then I won’t be. You’re lucky your whore of a mother wanted to keep you around because in my eyes you were always my one worst mistake,” he says, and his words hit you like a freight train.

You knew he never loved you. Even before your Mom died he never truly seemed to like you around, only tolerated you because of how much your Mom adored you.

When she died, the substance abuse began. You practically raised yourself and learned how cold the world truly was. You never knew the love of your father, but even still, it hurt to hear him say what you always understood deep down.

“Fine,” you say softly, standing up and opening a portal to HQ. His eyes widen as he watches, but you don’t even give a damn anymore if he sees.

You were never going to see him again anyway.

In an instant, you were gone.

You emerge on the other side, right into the lobby of the Spider Society. A few familiar faces recognize you, waving in greeting. You wave back with a smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes.

“Hey Lyla?” you call out, and she appears hovering over your shoulder with a grin.

“What’s poppin', buttercup?” she says cheerfully, and the corner of your mouth quirks up a bit.

“I was just wondering if Miguel was around,” you say, and she reappears in front of your face.

“He was actually about to leave for a mission, want me to tell him to wait up?” she asks, and you nod.

“That would be great, thanks,” you say, letting out a soft sigh of relief.

“Already done, you know where to find him,” she says, before throwing up a peace sign and disappearing.

Miguel was…you didn’t exactly know what to call him. A mentor? A friend? Guardian maybe?

All you knew was that (despite a rocky start), he was one of the few people across the multiverse that you truly trusted. He was harsh at times, rough around the edges and gruff…but he was like a light you’ve never known.

You both had your baggage, and you have both lost a lot in your lives, but maybe that’s why it worked. Whatever it was.

“Miguel?” you call out, looking around the monitoring room. He wasn’t on his usual platform which was odd. All of a sudden you get that familiar tingle on the back of your neck, and you whip around.

“HOLY GODS,” you exclaim as you see him hovering in the shadows like a wraith ready to leap out for the attack. “What are you doing?!”

He only chuckles at your expense, walking out with an amused grin on his face.

“Just making sure your reflexes are working properly,” he states simply.

“By giving me a heart attack in the process?” you say with an exaggerated frown, and he snorts.

“Don’t be dramatic, besides, you make stupid faces when you get scared,” he says, and you gasp offendedly.

“Well, you always look stupid so beat that,” you retort, and his hand grasps his chest dramatically.

“How could you? After everything we’ve been through, you think I look stupid?” he says, and you can’t help the breathy laughter that escapes. But before long the smile is replaced by a frown.

You could never really hide your emotions around him, he could always read you too well.

“You alright, kiddo?” he asks. He tried to mask his concern, but his eyes never lied.

“Never better!” you say, your tone overly sarcastic. Miguel eyes you with an expression that says ‘That’s a load of shit’, but you just brush him off with a nervous chuckle.

“You were about to go on a mission right? Can I come along? Cool, great, awesome,” you say, not even waiting for his reply. You press a button on the back of your neck that replaces your clothes with your Spider Suit and turn to look at him expectantly.

“Let’s just pack this guy up, in and out right?” you say, and he sighs.

“Fine, you can come along,” he relents, opening up a portal.

“You do realize I was going to come along either way, right?” you say, and he shakes his head knowingly.

“I know, you have the stubbornness of a bull but it helps me feel at least somewhat like the leader of the Society if I get the final say,” he says, his voice almost small which makes you laugh out loud.

“There, there,” you say, patting his shoulder as the two of your approach the portal together. “Everyone around here respects your authority,” you say with a grin before your mask covers your face.

“Except you,” he scoffs.

“Except me,” you say in turn.

“So what’s the deal with this anomaly?” you ask as the two of you emerge on the other side, not wanting to go in completely blind if you didn’t have to. You were reckless, but you weren’t completely stupid.

“Came in through a tear from Earth-848710. Has the power to manipulate metal to his advantage. At the height of his powers he has the ability to control even the iron in our blood so watch out,” he instructs.

“Ooh, freaky. What, like blood bending in Avatar: The Last Airbender?” you ask, and a confused expression washes over Miguel’s face which makes you giggle a bit.

“Like what?”

“Oh Miguel, don’t worry, we’ll binge watch it later, just you wait,” you reply before the back of your neck tingles, and you sling a web up onto the ceiling, yanking you up off the ground.

Just in time, because in the place that you once were stood a beam of metal impaled into the ground.

“Holy shit!” you yelp, and Miguel is swinging right up beside you.

“That’s our cue then. On your toes, spiderling,” he says, and you grin. You don’t exactly remember when he started saying that phrase to you, but it was standard procedure before every fight for him to say it now.

“You got it, old man,” you snicker, and he rolls his eyes before swinging away, allowing you to analyze the villain down below.

His pillars were optimal at a range, so close combat was likely your best bet at beating the guy.

“You gonna hang up there all day, little thing? C’mon, give me a real fight,” the villain calls up to you tauntingly, and you scoff. Of course, he was going to be annoying, just what you needed.

“I’m just trying to find the quickest way to take your annoying ass down and believe me, it will happen,” you retort, swinging down before levelling him with a kick into his gut before he could react. He groans out in pain as you see Miguel send out his webbing from the corner of your eye.

But the villain seemed to notice it as well, using a shard of metal to slice it away before it could reach him.

“You think it’d be that easy, I’ve spent my whole life fighting so-called ‘heroes’ like you,” he scoffs.

“All that says to me is that you’re old,” you snicker, and he scoffs before sending a beam of metal toward you again. You leap out of the way just in time, but the villain picks up the pace.

Ear-scrapingly loud screeches of metal can be heard from all around as he pulls support beam after support beam out of the building to throw at you and Miguel.

“Where’s all that confidence from earlier, little hero?” he calls out toward you. “I thought you were going to take me down, yet here I stand. Maybe you’re weaker than you thought,” he laughs, and you narrow your eyes in annoyance.

You know you shouldn’t lead with your emotions, it was a recipe for disaster in a job like this but you couldn’t help it.

“Enough of this-” you seethe before you’re interrupted.

“THE BUILDING IS FALLING APART,” you hear Miguel shout, and it was true. With each support beam that the villain ripped from the frame, the more unstable the place became. You had to get this guy packed up and pronto, before you all were crushed.

“I’m tired of your games, anomaly,” you huff, levelling him with a glare.

“Why so serious? Your parents never hug you enough as a kid?” the villain says mockingly. You knew it was only to get a rise out of you, every comment of his was, but with your emotions already on high, you immediately saw red.

Everything you had bottled up and shoved down bubbled over like lava, and you lunged for the villain with a snarl.

You threw punch after punch as he cried out in pain, unable to do anything with your webs trapping him in place.

That’s when you feel webs that weren’t your own wrapping around your shoulders, yanking you off of the villain. You yank at the bonds, desperately trying to escape the fluorescent red webbing.

“Let me go, let me go! Let me finish him, Miguel,” you cry out, but he ignores you for a moment.

He shoves the villain through the newly opened portal without a second thought, knowing Jess would handle it on the other side before turning back to you.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” he says as he grabs your shoulders, holding you in place as he retracts the webbing. You wriggle around in his grasp, chest heaving with each breath as tears brim over in your eyes. He looks at you with concern, just scanning over you to make sure you were alright before truly looking at you. It made you feel small as you struggled to hold back your sobs.

His eyes only softened, clicking your mask off before brushing his hand gently over your hair, and it only made you want to cry even more.

“C’mere kid,” he says, pulling you into a hug. You exhale shakily before hugging him back tightly, the tears you had been holding back all day finally falling down.

He was so warm…his arms embracing you gently in the way your real father never could.

You stood there in his arms for a few minutes, sobbing into his chest while he just held you gently. After a little while your sobs subsided, replaced with the occasional sniffle before you pull away, looking off to the side sheepishly.

“Do you want to tell me what’s really bothering you now, mi tesoro,” he asks gently, not wanting to push you to say something you didn’t want to.

You only sigh softly, glancing back only to see the worry in his eyes before relenting.

“I don’t have a good relationship with my father…you know this,” you smile sadly, and he only nods, waiting for you to continue.

“We got into a really bad argument before I came here, and well, I don’t really have a father anymore. He kicked me out,” you sniffle. “And I know it shouldn’t bother me as much as it does, because he never cared for me like a parent should but it still hurts Miguel,” you say, your eyes tearing up again. He smiles sadly at you, brushing away a tear gently.

“I’m sorry, mi ángel,” he says, not really knowing what else to say. “But don't blame yourself for feeling what you feel. You can't help it, and besides, losing all that you knew, even if it hurt you is still difficult," he says, and you nod knowing that what he said was true. It wasn't easy to accept though, so you don't say anything in response.

"...You do know you always have a home here, don’t you?” he says, and you laugh softly to yourself, not really knowing why.

“I do?” you ask, and he chuckles fondly.

“Always,” he says before his eyes grow distant for a moment. “…I lost Gabriella a long time ago, I never really recovered from that loss…I don’t think I ever will. But I do believe that the universe sent me you in turn. You won’t ever be her, I know that. But you don’t have to be, because I care for you like a child of my own regardless. You know that, don’t you?” he says, the genuineness of his words evident.

“Thank you,” you whisper, hugging him tightly once more. “I have never felt more safe in my life than when I’m with you," you admit.

He only smiles, and for a moment you think you can see the glimmer of tears in his red eyes but figured it must have been a trick of the light.

“Let’s head back to HQ, kiddo. We can figure out some place for you to stay, alright?” he says, and you nod before pausing for a moment.

“Could I…stay with you?” you ask hesitantly, and his eyes widen for a moment.

“If that’s what you’d like, it can be arranged,” he says before laughing softly. “My house has always been too big for just one person anyway.” Immediately your expression brightens as you skip toward the open portal, a large grin on your face.

“I would like that very much.”

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A/N: Good gods it has literally been almost 2 weeks since I last posted. I'm so sorry, life has been kicking my ass but I'm back!! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading <33

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#miguel o'hara #miguel o hara #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #spider man 2099 #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara x platonic!reader

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