#sheet metal tend
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💡 Introducing Lumen!
A FNAF: SB OC with the setting that Lumen is one of the newer animatronics stationed within the daycare, he's tasked with assisting with anything that needs a extra pair of hands there. Most of his more involved tasks are when the lights are out as he acts as a friendly face as the daycare's robotic night light.
⭐ Extra character notes Below! ⭐
💡 Lumen goes by He/Him or They/Them
💡 A literal nightlight (character sheet is his neutral state.)
💡 Official designation is to act as a supporting animatronic within the daycare with a secondary task of occasionally acting as a guest star at Fazer Blast. (But... maybe a secret third thing too.)
💡 His eyes are screens and he uses them to show his expressions:
(His rays can also move and wiggle slightly like how Sun can but the larger rays have more difficulty in retracting because of their angle.)
💡 Has an advanced in-built targeting system (something both him and Drizzle have in common.)
💡 Besides able to create noises and beep boop-like sounds, he does know sign language, morse code and other forms of communication.
💡 He's often curious about things.
💡 On good friend terms with Drizzle, they get together after-hours sometimes to casually show off or practice/calibrate their targeting skills in Fazerblast. (Drizzle and Lumen tag team vs staff bots? Rest in pepperoni staff bots.)
#aquadoodles#oc#fnaf oc#Lumen OC#Tend to associate him a lot with chiptunes so imagine he's got those mentally playing when he's doing laser tag#For Sonic fans - Metal Sonic noises come to mind for his noises but with much less reverb and higher pitched?#he's been stuck in sketch form for a while so it's good to get him fully designed aaa-#might change small things later but like Drizzle's sheet I'd update this one#gotta remember to doodle up some of his colour alts later#but imagine those neat little silicone/plastic colour changing lights#there's a reason for his appearance but big hmm#fnaf oc au
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Hi, I just found your blog, and I love your Simon's fics! I was wondering if i could please request something where Reader and Simon had broken up bc he thought he put her in danger. After a few months, he comes to her after a mission and they spend the night but he leaves before she wakes up thinking hes doing whats best (and all that angsty jazz 🥲🤭) . A few weeks after she finds out shes pregnant and decides to take on her own, as reader thinks simon wouldnt care. But maybe one of the guys see her heavy preggo and tell simon, and hes fuming and super protective mode is on.
Sorry if it is too specific and for the terrible english. I just have this idea, and i dont think i can picture it right. Anyway, thanks for reading this and for your good work on your fics 💗 hope you have a lovely day
—Digging Gaze
⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ
╰┈➤ ❝ [You indulge in a one-night-stand after you'd both called it quits, only, it leads to more problems. When he sees you again, how will he react to the swelling of your stomach?] ❞
You knew it was the effects of a less-than-gentle breakup, but you should have at least cursed him out before you let him have his way with you on the living room couch. You’d woken up back in bed, alone, and had gotten dropped back to where you had been weeks earlier—stuck in the throws of confusion and hurt.
Simon had left you, and he never gave you a reason.
A part of you was heated; pissed off and feeling betrayed by the insult, yet, the rest of you knew that Simon needed to have his reasons—he always did. Even if you didn’t agree with them, and you knew he tended to look at life with a glass-half-empty type of glance.
So that left you here.
You were pregnant.
You’d found out two weeks after you’d slept together for that last time, your cheeks still hot from the memory and your fingers clutching the plastic of a test.
Pregnant.
It had been a shock, a deep panic. The both of you had been reckless. Stupid. And while you had stared at those two pink lines, you felt a sinking in your gut akin to a drowning ship. Should you tell him? It would be proper, of course.
But you don’t think you can face him again after you’d awaken to an empty bed—as if your entire relationship had only been about sex and not the deep nights of confessions and soft brushes of skin. You knew Simon Riley better than he probably knew himself.
And you wouldn’t put this on him.
At seven months, you couldn’t walk as much as you could before—and you would huff for breath as you went up the stairs to change the sheets—but who else could do it but you? Shopping also fell to you, and so, you pushed a large cart around and packed the metal basket with cravings and necessities. That was when you fell to a familiar face.
“Johnny?” You ask, blinking.
The Scot pauses, turning. His brows furrowed for a moment before a kind smile peeled his lips back.
“Hen!” He comes closer, laughing. “Well, I haven’t seen you in a good minute, then. What have you been up to in all—”
The man freezes at the sight of your stomach, jaw going slack as you fight an internal war with yourself to say pleasantries and leave.
“Hell,” Johnny clears his throat. “I guess you’ve been doin’ a great deal.”
You sigh, shaking your head softly. “Thanks, Johnny.”
“I’m just joking, Little Lady.” The man laughs and waves a hand. “Who’s the lucky man then? I’ll have to meet him one of these days.”
Your face blanks and your lips snap shut in an instant.
Blue eyes wait for an answer as the silence laps over itself. Slowly but surely, the realization dawns on his face in a tight pull of horror.
“You can’t tell him,” you interrupt his tight gasp. “Not a peep, MacTavish, you hear?”
“What the fuck,” he breathes at you, hand coming up to his mouth as he glances down at your swelling bump. “Holy hell.”
“Johnny,” you snap, his eyes jerk back to you.
“It’s bloody Ghost’s—”
“You can’t,” you growl, coming closer, “tell him.”
“What do you mean I can’t tell him,” Johnny hisses under his breath, looking at the people passing by and lowering his tone. “You’re pregnant and he doesn’t know!”
“That’s the point,” you ease out, exasperated and feeling drained already. Jesus, you needed to go lay down—your back was killing you. “Johnny,” you breathe, growing softer as you reach out a hand and put it to his arm. He grips it and holds on, looking incredibly concerned. “He doesn’t need to know, okay? That’s a lot of stress on him, and you know what he does for work. Even worrying about me was hard on him, what do you think a child would do?”
“You can’t think like that,” the Scot mutters. “He can help—what, you mean to tell me you plan to do this by yourself?” It isn’t malicious how he says it; Johnny’s worried about you. Incredibly. “Hen, no,” he shakes his head. “No, you can’t.”
“I can, Johnny,” you frown, dread filling your heart. “And I will.”
In the future, you really had to take into account Johnny’s flapping lips when under the spell of alcohol. Maybe you had enough faith in him to watch himself for the last little while of your pregnancy as he had into the latter half of the eighth month.
And then three firm knocks were at your door, and when you opened it, you were face to face with a painted balaclava and frazzled brown eyes.
Those eyes immediately snap down, and not even a word is uttered to your face until then.
The both of you are stone-still. Frozen. Dead to all else.
You swear it was hours of this—standing in the doorway with Simon’s fingers stiff in his pockets and his chest not even moving in a pulse or flare of his lungs. He doesn’t even blink.
“How far along?” His voice is monotone. A low drone in the ringing of your ears.
Damn that Scot.
“Eight and a half,” you say quietly.
Brown eyes shift up to yours. Simon stares, and you see his jaw clench under his balaclava, his shoulders moving. Again a long pause.
“When’s the next appointment—”
“It’s a girl.” You see his eyelids peel back and halt there, watching you. “In case you care to stick around and see her.”
Cruel perhaps, but it was nothing short of how he acted while leaving you.
Simon’s hidden face is slack, stuttering silently for a moment as the light fades outside.
“Didn’t…didn’t know,” he grunts out, blinking quickly.
“I know you didn’t,” you utter. “That was the point, Simon.”
“Johnny told me ‘bout it, didn’t believe him.” His brown eyes swirl, breaking. “Thought you’d mention it if you were.”
“You left,” you breathe. “Why would I reach out to someone that did that to me.”
“M’sorry, I-I don’t…” Simon clears his throat, looking away. His eyes are glossy, fingers moving out of his pockets so his twitching hands can splay out. “Could have explained, but I didn’t know how, Love. I’m not…this isn’t…”
Words fail him just like his ability to explain his emotions. Part of him was angry—angry that you’d gone all this time without reaching out when he could have helped.
A daughter.
But he was afraid, as well. Terrified. You were in the right and he knew it. Simon didn’t know the first thing about being a father…but then again, you didn’t know how to be a mother, either.
This was new territory.
“Marry me,” Simon pushes out with a quick force of breath.
“Wh—,” you choke on air. “What?”
“Let me make it up to you, yeah?” Gloved hands move at his sides, eyes honest but still shiny. “Wasn’t thinking—my fault and I can’t go on if I don’t know you’re safe.” He licks at the corner of his mouth. “...Both of you. Thought leaving would make the best sense, but I was…fucking hell. M’sorry.”
“Simon, there are many more ways other than marriage.” Your anger wasn’t something that could be washed away that easily, even if your heart fluttered at the idea and his apology.
You had more self-respect than that.
“Let me fix this,” he whispers, leaning closer.
Your hand rests over your stomach, staying there as the minutes draw. Simon waits, nervous and his fingers tap on his thigh. You know he’s afraid. You know he’s nervous about what he could bring home from work, even if those are only his paranoia talking in his ear like a demon.
You frown.
You huff.
And you open the door wider.
“The sheets need changing in my room. Get on it.”
The man says nothing before he enters the house and slips off his boots; disappearing into the linen closet.
#tw sex mention#tw pregnancy#cod#cod x reader#cod x you#call of duty#cod mw22#x female reader#mw2#call of duty x you#mw2 2022#cod simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#cod simon riley#simon riley#simon ghost x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty x reader#ghost mw2#ghost cod#cod x female reader#x fem!reader#cod mw#cod mw2#cod ghost
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The chain around your neck
Synopsis: In which Price finds himself enamored by a piece of jewelry
Pairing: John Price x Male reader
Cw: 18+, top male reader, dom male reader,
A/N: self indulgent sooo self indulgent, and inspired by the chain Nikolai wears.
It was while basking in the afterglow of your recent endeavors that Price had decide to ask you about your necklace: sitting at the side of the bed, white sheet draped over his waist as shaky hands reached for the jewelry you always tend to wear. “Why do you wear it?”
The jewelry in question was a chunky gold chain, the same length as his forearm and lacking any pendants whatsoever.
There was nothing eye catching about it except for its size yet Price always seemed to have it on his mind.
It was so different to the dog tags he wore around his neck that served to identify his body amidst other fallen soldiers. The gold chain around your neck wasn’t a way to ensure you’d have a grave stone if you were to be put into the ground but rather a sentimental piece you carried with so much pride.
Each night you’d take it off before you went to bed and each time Price found himself glancing at the piece of jewelry glimmering on the nightstand, gaze trailing across each and every chain link until he faded away into dream land.
During long missions you’d have it tucked away somewhere in your shared closet, fearing it’ll get lost or stolen and Price couldn’t help but think how bare your neck looked without it, even with the dog tags still on you.
And whenever you’d have him pinned to the bed, he’d have the jewelry dangling over his face, brushing over his lips as you thrusted into him, clutching onto it as he inched closer to release or yanking on it to pull you in for a kiss, chilly metal pressing against his searing hot skin as he lay in your arms basking in the afterglow of his release.
Soon enough that very same piece of jewelry would be hanging from his very own neck as he works himself up and down your cock, chain links flailing wildly as he increases the pace of his hips, the weight of it serving to ground his body when his mind starts to feel afloat, cool metal laying flush between your bodies as he succumbs to slumber.
“No special reason,” you say, giving him a smile through the reflection of the mirror.
#call of duty#this is just a loooooose Drabble#john price x reader#john price x male reader#john price#captain john price#captain john price x male reader#captain john price x reader#top male reader#dom male reader#sub male character#bottom male character#x male reader#male reader
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Miguel and Spider-girl not being official yet, but spending a lot of time at his place. He notices another Spider-man being very friendly and flirty with you, but you’re so sweet, you don’t even notice. He gets grumpy and one of the girls points it out, but it makes your heart swell, assuring him later that you’re his, even if he isn’t ready to make that official step yet.
hope this is OK!!
You tend to wake up before Miguel, and you slink out of his bed and his room without saying goodbye for the day if you have things to do. You have a training course hosted by Lady Spider at lunch time, so the chances of Miguel seeing you for hours on either side are slim.
Slim, but not zero.
It's just after lunch when Miguel's taking the elevator down to Spider-Woman's laboratory when he sees you out on the floor. There are variants of you around, you're nowhere near as common as Peter Parkers or Gwen Staceys, but sometimes he'll see different versions of you hanging about the cafeteria. There are a few who, like you, adore him from the very first moment they see him. There's one who clearly wants to twist him up like a pretzel. But he knows it's you, and it would be shameful if he didn't, having spent so much time around you, having kissed you, felt your naked shoulders under his hands.
He doesn't think, he just clicks the stop button on the elevator and waits for the doors to open.
You're not great at making friends. Pretty much every Spider person is a little weirdo, but you perturb the imperturbable with your flirting and your niceness, he assumes. You come off rather suspiciously at moments. He himself didn't trust you as far as he could throw you at first (though admittedly he could throw you quite far).
Which is why he's pleased to see you in company. You and a couple of other rookies are milling around one of the training gymnasiums. The keychain of your phone hangs out of your pocket, purple translucent beads against your black thigh. You've been having a great time making jewellery lately, and he should know —no matter how well you clean, he finds beads and metal eyelets on the floor and occasionally in the sheets.
"I can make you one," you're saying, clearly delighted at being asked.
"You would?" asks a Spider-Man. Miguel doesn't know who he is, only that his suit looks vaguely similar to Peter B.'s, and… he's standing quite close to you, actually.
Miguel stops walking.
"Who is that?" Lyla asks.
"Shouldn't you know?" he asks her.
"What, like I'm some sort of intelligence model that knows everything about everyone?"
Miguel doesn't have the cheer to laugh. His presence is like a rippling wave, a mixture of proud smiles and scared glances shot his way. He barely notices, his attention on you and your admirer.
You and Miguel are sleeping together, but it's more than that. You spend hours together every day. He all but admitted he's infatuated with you, and you've been obviously embroiled in his disastrous personality since the moment you met him. You don't care that he's made pages upon pages of terrible decisions, you still deign to sit in his lap every evening, stroking hair behind his ears while you talk about everything but whatever it is between you.
He's never been scared about the exclusivity of your situation until right now.
"It's not so hard, it just takes time," you say.
"Don't put yourself down! You have talented hands, I can tell."
You preen very sweetly in Miguel's opinion. It's not often he sees you shy. It's a shame the compliment you've perceived and the one Spider-Man is laying down aren't totally equivalent.
"Thank you so much. You know, my– Miguel, we have matching charms," you say, beaming.
"Miguel," Spider-Man says worriedly, "as in, Miguel O'Hara."
"Yes!" you say happily.
"Yep," Miguel says, with altogether too much satisfaction.
Spider-Man looks at him with wide eyes. Miguel isn't proud, but he glares, as if to say, If you know what's good for you.
"I'll see you later," Spider-Man says, shoulders slouched forward as he walks away.
You give a cheerful goodbye and lean into Miguel as you do, your hand touching his hip. "Did you hear? He said my keychains are awesome."
"I heard. Are you coming up with me?" he asks.
Your smile turns playful. "Do you want me to?"
"I think Miguel definitely wants you where he can see you," Lyla says.
Miguel bats her like a moth, to her annoyance. She whizzes around his head, her white coat fluttering from the simulated force of her movement, before pretending to kick him in the jaw as she disappears.
"What does that mean?" you ask.
"It doesn't mean anything. I want you wherever you want to be."
"Oh. Well, I like being with you," you say, "so we all win. Are we going to the lab?"
Miguel nods and can't summon any words to say that won't give him away. He leads you to the elevator, and together you stand in the centre of the glass box looking down at the inner workings of the Society scraper. It looks more like an ant hive than a spider's nest, wriggling bodies moving in waves from one place to the other.
He tries not to be sullen with you. Punishing you for decisions he has or hadn't made isn't his style, but he can't help falling silent. You deserve to be complimented, fawned at, praised for your keychains. They're great. You're great.
There's no reason for you to choose him over any other person who might want your affections.
"Is something wrong?" you ask.
"No."
"Yes," Lyla says.
"Nothing is wrong," Miguel says.
"Well, if I did something–"
"You didn't do anything," Miguel and Lyla say at the same time, their voices varying in level of joy. "Miguel's just jealous," Lyla finishes.
Miguel would prefer that the elevator crash down a thousand floors than have this conversation. Luckily, the elevator opens, and he spears ahead toward his laboratory and away from your prying questions.
"Why are you jealous, handsome?" you ask, taking doubly quick footsteps to keep up with his large strides.
"I'm not jealous."
"What's wrong, then?"
"Nothing."
"That blows. Don't be a coward," you tease.
"I'm not being a coward," he says, laughing. He loves and hates how you lift his mood.
"I didn't think so. You're going to tell me what's wrong, I can feel it," you say, grabbing his wrist in your hand.
He's thankful Lyla read the room and disappeared, but he knows she's listening. He sticks his tongue in his cheek for a moment.
"We aren't… you have no obligation to me," he says.
"I don't think that's true."
"Well, you don't."
"What, because we aren't on paper?" Ah. Lackadaisical you may be, but you're just as smart as anyone. You wrap your arms around your stomach. "So you have no obligation to me?"
"That's not what I'm saying."
Your sudden spike of insecurity fades. "That's sort of how it works, Miguel."
"You don't have to be stuck with me," Miguel says. "That's all."
"Good thing I'm not stuck." You begin walking again and Miguel takes your cue, following behind you in a daze he isn't proud of. "I quite like being with you, unstuck. We don't have to call it anything or anything, but you don't have to feel grumpy about my lack of obligation."
"Qué maravilla. You have it all figured out, huh?" he asks, though inside he's more than relieved.
"No!" you say through laughter. "Of course I don't. I know you, though. And you have me."
Your hand clamps onto his shoulder and you go on toes to kiss his cheek. You need a little help; Miguel dips his face toward his shoulder to give you better access. You kiss his cheek.
"I might tell Peter I can't make him a keychain, after all," you say. "I– I think he might have been flirting with me."
Miguel nods, his smile painfully tight. "You think so?"
Your laughter fans out across his cheek as you give him a second kiss.
#miguel and spidergirl reader#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel o’hara x fem!reader#miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara fanfiction#miguel o’hara fanfic#miguel o’hara fic#miguel o’hara drabble#miguel o’hara scenario#miguel o’hara blurb#miguel o’hara oneshot#spider-man: across the spider-verse#spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers#spider-man: across the spider-verse fanfiction#across the spider-verse spoilers#across the spider verse spoilers#across the spiderverse spoilers#spiderman across the spider-verse spoilers#miguel ohara x reader#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara x y/n#miguel ohara x fem!reader#miguel ohara#miguel ohara fanfiction#miguel ohara fanfic#miguel ohara fic#miguel ohara drabble#miguel ohara scenario
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Shower Suprise
Jason Todd x gn pregnant reader
Notes: So, I’m currently fighting a war against baby fever and baby daddy jason makes me feral so I decided to write a self indulgent fic. I’m working on a couple sequel fics so let me know if you enjoyed this and I’ll post the others too. I’m not a great writer and have never written for Jason before, so sorry if it’s shit lmaooo
Part 2
Word count: 1730
Contains cursing, unplanned pregnancy, mention of abortion, talk of adoption
Jason had gotten home a little after 4 am. He’d been patrolling the cold, rainy streets since 11 and Gotham had finally grown quiet. His body ached something awful from the numerous fights he’d gotten into that night, and exhaustion had crept into his bones making him feel like he could fall asleep standing up.
He climbed into the window of the dark apartment silently to avoid waking his lover and got out of his gear in the living room. The sound of clanking metal and ripping zippers tended to get noisy. Once in his briefs alone he slipped into your bedroom, pausing for a moment to watch the rise and fall of your chest with a smile on his face. You slept soundly, your hair a nest around your face and your soft snores like a comforting lullaby to Jason.
He reluctantly made his way to your shared bathroom. He’d love nothing more than to just go to bed, but you didn’t like it when he got into the clean sheets with Gotham’s grime on him. And, to be fair, he was pretty gross some nights. He showered quickly, enjoying the steaming water on his sore muscles, then hastily moved to brush his teeth. However, something odd caught his eye as he spat.
There were balls of what looked like clean tissue wadded up atop the trash, which was strange as he’d just changed it before he left. You didn’t have a cold or anything that would constitute using that much. He furrowed his brow, a weird feeling washing over him. Something white and shiny just barely peeked out from underneath, and he moved the tissue aside to reveal not 1 but 4 pregnancy tests. His heart froze, time seeming to stop around him. Dread built in his gut as he grabbed the sticks, and terror settled in as he picked up one positive after another. Holy shit, y/n was pregnant. He’d gotten you pregnant. Fuck.
Something pleasant stirred in his gut but he squashed it down. His child would be in danger every day having him as their father. If anyone found out about his baby, child of the Red Hood and grandchild of the Batman, they’d instantly have a target on their head. Aside from that, he’d be a terrible father. He was gruff without meaning to, he had a short fuse, and he certainly didn’t have any good role models. All he could think about were the ways he could accidentally fuck them up. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice you until you were in the bathroom with him.
He was no longer tired, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he dropped to the floor. Fuck fuck fuck. He couldn’t be a father, he’s Red Hood. He had huge time constraints, anger issues, and most importantly, a lot of blood on his hands. How could those hands, forever stained red, hold something like an innocent newborn in his grasp? A baby, with chunky cheeks and thighs, perhaps with his hair and your eyes.
“Jay?” You asked tentatively. He realized he was hyperventilating. He tried to respond, but he found all he could do is stare at your middle. Your eyes slipped to the floor, taking in the discovered pregnancy tests as he watched your face turn. This is clearly not the reveal you were hoping for. You crouched to his level.
“Jay, can you breathe with me?” He was still lost in his thoughts, buried in his anxiety. But he looked up and met your gaze, your features worried. For him. He closed his eyes and nodded with a shuddering breath.
“Alright babe, in through the nose…. Out through the mouth.” He followed along with you, his hand reaching out. You grabbed it firmly with both of yours without hesitation, running your thumbs along his skin. He usually didn’t like to be touched when he was having episodes, but something about your warmth grounded him. He steadily felt his heart begin to slow down.
You let go with one hand to tenderly cup his cheek, smiling sheepishly at him.
“You’re pregnant.” He said simply. You bit your lip and looked away, but nodded.
“I made an appointment in the morning to get an ultrasound and make sure, but well, 4 positives. Plus, you know how sick and nauseous I’ve been. Emotional, tired, hungry for weird shit…” He cursed under his breath and noted how your shoulders sank. Your hand just barely moved to your belly before you caught yourself, returning it to your side.
“You want the baby.” He stated, though it was more of a question. You sighed in frustration and ran your hand through your hair.
“I don’t know. I don’t feel ready, but I can’t stop picturing a little baby that looks like me and you and I just… I can’t-“ Your resolve crumbled as tears began rolling down your cheeks. He took you into his arms instantly, pulling you onto his lap and letting you bury your head into his neck as you sobbed. He drew circles into your back and whispered reassurances, but his head was spinning.
“I don't know what to do Jay!” You whimpered. He didn’t know either, but he needed to come up with a solution. For you.
A baby. A fucking baby. Bruce would absolutely lose it.
“Well,” he started, his voice calm. He was freaking out, but you didn’t need him a nervous wreck. You needed him strong and steadfast. He took a deep breath.
“There’s allot going on in our heads right now, why don't we break down our options, yeah?” You nodded, still sniffling and sat in his lap to meet his eyes.
“No matter what, I'm not putting a baby in the Gotham foster system. No way.” He started. Gotham had a lot of kids entering its foster system and almost no kids being adopted. Bruce had been trying to help solve the issue for years, but Jason knew if they gave the baby up for adoption, they’d likely have a hard time finding a home. Not to mention the issue still stood that they’d be in danger if their parentage was discovered, except in that scenario Jason wouldn’t even know where they are to help them. You nodded in agreement.
“So that leaves…” you began softly.
“Keeping it or getting rid of it.” He finished. Your lip twisted and fresh tears fell, but you wiped them away.
“I don’t… what do you want to do Jay?”
“It’s your body.”
“And it's your baby.” You responded. That was fair, and he thought about it. There’s no denying it could be dangerous, but there was also no denying that his kid would have the planets greatest protectors on its side. His family would call to arms for his baby in an instant, as would the friends Jason had made through his life. Hell, even the Justice League would defend Bruce’s grand baby. And he wouldn’t repeat his mentor’s mistakes and drag his kid on the rooftops with him. They belonged at home; safe, cared for, and loved. A feeling he reveled in when he was with you. He thought about you holding a toddler in your arms and playing with them, the sound of his child’s laughter echoing through the house. He just knew you would make an amazing parent. Feelings once again rose in his chest, but he didn’t push them down. He let them sit and, once he really thought about it, he kinda wanted to see the little guy live and grow. But ultimately it wasn’t his decision.
“I want what you want.” He finally responded. You groaned in frustration.
“I don’t want you to want what I want Jay. If I say I want it, I don’t want you to agree to make me happy and then feel trapped and then…” you trailed off, looking away from him. He furrowed his brow.
“And then what, leave you? Abandon you to raise my kid on your own? Do you really think I’d do that to you?” His tone sounded almost angry, but he didn’t mean for it to be. He wasn’t mad, he was hurt.
“No, Jay I-“ you sighed and ran a hand through your hair.
“I just don’t want to make you do something huge like this if it's not what you want. And I don’t want to force you to commit to me like that.” He scoffed at you.
“I think we’re well past worrying about me wanting to commit to you, doll.” You stared at him seemingly unconvinced, your fears and uncertainties visibly rattling around your skull.
He sighed. This wasn’t the circumstance he was hoping for, but his gut said it was time.
“You want to see how fucking serious I am about committing to you? Where the fuck are my jeans?” He gently pushed you off of him and told you to stay. He nearly chuckled at the cute, confused look on your face. He grabbed the pants he'd been wearing before patrol and fished his wallet out of his pocket.
“Look at this shit, I’ve been carrying this around with me for months.” You stared at him with a raised brow, wondering what the fuck he was doing. Out of the cash flap he pulled a small pouch of bubble wrap which produced a beautiful engagement ring. It was your picture-perfect ring; you couldn’t have picked a better one yourself. You froze, your breath catching in your throat.
“Jason-“
“No, shut up and listen to me. I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone on this god forsaken planet. You are beautiful, and kind, and funny, and so fucking smart. You’ve been there for me at my worst and my best without judgement. You’re one person that I know I can rely on, and I am so proud that you rely on me. I am a lucky fucking man to have you in my life, and if you want this baby I’m with you. And I’ll be the happiest man alive. But if you don’t want it, you don’t. And I’ll be happy with that too. But either way, I love you and I want you to be my one and only for as long as you’ll have me. So, what do you wanna do babe?”
#Jason Todd#Jason Todd x reader#Jason Todd x you#jason todd x y/n#red hood x reader#red hood x you#red hood x y/n#jason todd x pregnant reader#jason todd x pregnant!reader#red hood x pregnant reader#batfam#batman#dc comics#dc universe#dcu
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Yo I haven't done it in forever so I forgot that working at a sex shop gives you superpowers
1. The We-Vibe Tango is a low frequency and fully waterproof rechargeable bullet vibrator that we used to sell for about $150. A new model came out about a year ago so it's on sale now online for $47. Can confirm that shipping is discreet and they have a really good warranty, just keep the packaging.
*(I'm not sponsored to say that and nobody is paying me rn, it's just a legit good deal.)
2. There are essentially three bases used for lube: Water, Oil, and Silicone. Oil breaks down any materials other than glass or metal, and Silicone breaks down Silicone toys and sometimes condoms. Water is safe for everything but tends to dry out, so people don't like it- but if you add water or spit, drying water-based lube will slick right back up.
3. If your water-based lube has given you any itching, tightening, or burning sensations, you probably have a chemical sensitivity. Obviously everyone has different preferences, but my number one recommendation is Water Slide- it's a super reasonable price compared to other lubes, it feels natural, it's incredibly gentle on the skin, and it doesn't stain sheets.
**(Again, I'm not being paid for this. By anyone. At all. I'm just sick of hearing people come in and tell me they don't use lube cause it hurts, or that they're using fucking coconut oil in their vagina. Please, God, don't put coconut oil in your vagina.)
4. A lot of massage oils use almond oil to suspend other ingredients, and warming products sometimes use cinnamon. Always, always, always check people's allergies.
5. You can buy toys off cheap sites if you want, just be wary of quality and ALWAYS read the product description. I personally wouldn't buy anything that isn't Silicone, stainless steel, or glass, because unlike jelly, plastic, "fantaflesh", and Silicon, (which is NOT Silicone!!!) They are non-porous, sterile, and don't melt in contact with each other. This means that as long as you clean them properly and don't use the wrong lubes, they will not hold bacteria or break down, which makes them safe for both you to reuse and your partner/s to share. (And to switch between front door/back door, so long as you wash before going back to front.)
6. Cotton and polyester bondage rope are cheap and great to practice with. Silk sounds fancy and is very strong but be advised that a lot of silk rope is "Silk(TM)", not actual silk. Read the product description. (I personally am reluctant to spend more than about $2 per foot for mass-produced synthetic rope, but could be persuaded to pay more for ACTUAL silk, nylon, handmade ropes, or especially attractive colors/patterns/textures.) You want your rope to be at least as thick as your thumb and layered to avoid lacerations, and taut (not stretchy) to be sure you're in control of how much pressure you're putting on.
7. Choking someone by pressing on the windpipe is painful and inefficient. If you want to, stay very, very light, as it's a very delicate area. If you want a head rush, press down on the sides of the windpipe, just below the corners of their lower jaw. You will feel a pulse there. That's the carotid artery. It carries oxygen to the brain. Pressing there will allow them to breathe, but will still "choke" the air going to their head. It's faster and painless. Only hold this for 3-4 seconds if you lack experience. It takes just under 15 seconds to make someone pass out from a blood choke, and after that you risk causing *permanent brain damage*. If your partner passes out, release pressure immediately and keep their airways clear. If you're the one being choked, know that your only warning will be spotty vision and a dizzy sensation. Communicate with your partner/s and for the love of God, do your research first. I'm not a doctor. Please God, please do your research.
8. Don't reduce blood flow to any part of the body for more than 20 minutes. This includes cock rings. Take a break for an hour between uses.
9. Most 'dick pills' are just a stimulant, a mild vasodilator, and a placebo. Usually mostly caffeine. They are not worth $20 apiece. Take a minute to meditate, have a hot shower, drink some black tea, have a coffee, go for a run, whatever- you'll get the same effect. And no, there is not a single ethical and legal sex shop in the country that can sell you viagra. You would have better luck on Facebook. Do not buy viagra on Facebook.
10. There are no "male toys" and "female toys". Your only limitations are safety and creativity. If youre sticking something into something else, just make sure everything is clean, not too big, not sharp or abrasive, and can be taken back out.
11. If something "goes missing" in your vagina and you panic, you muscles will tense up and it'll it'll harder to get back. Relax and stand up. Wait a minute. Chill. Calm down. Jump a couple times. There's nowhere for it to go and worst case scenario, I promise the emergency walk-in has seen something weirder or worse in the past hour or so.
12. You cannot return toys that you buy and don't like and I swear to God if you come into my store with an opened product and try to give it back I will lose my shit
13. Actually while I'm at it, people who work at sex shops are more often than not not sex workers and even if they were, it would still not be appropriate to flash or grope them or ask them "what they use", I will run you over in the fucking parking lot
#Sex education#Information#Body health#Not for work#Yes I will take questions please ask questions just let me know if u wanna be anon in the response
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These Violent Delights | Chapter Three
Summary: The day has come for you to forsake the safety of Velaris and make your solemn oaths to Beron Vanserra; the cruel and tyrannical High Lord of the Autumn Court and his son Eris Vanserra. Your mate. Cruel and beautiful and yours.
Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!Reader
Word Count: 8k
Main Masterlist
Waking from the ether feels like being torn from your old life again. You need a few moments to shed the fleeting remnants of your mortal life; the winter cold as it permeates the thin walls of the cabin, the warmths of the sister nestled at your side, that feeling of hunger like a devouring cavity that lives within you even now and that dresser-- adorned in painted flame, flowers, eternal night and the murky depths of the sea. That dresser haunts your memories almost as often as that infernal Cauldron.
In these moments when sleep still shrouds your conscious mind, you give leave to your anger; it runs like water into old wounds and it festers there. The saltwater purifies in ways that fire cannot. In a few moments, when the visions abate you, then you will be able to face the fire. To watch as the hues of your bedroom move from murky green and chalk blue into pearl and burning gold. For now, let the morning come in with the subtleness of the tide.
You're still cocooned between silken sheets, allowing the sunlight to thaw out the morning chill from your bones, when you notice the wraiths as they work. Nuala and Cerridrwen are the personification of shadow and smoke as they glide through your rooms, drawing the curtains with a flourish as golden light seems to pour into the room. Nuala tends to your laundry while her sister begins to draw your bath. The smell of steam and wildflowers from the meadow fill the air; juniper berries and chamomile soap that seems to cling to you.
The sound of the water lulls you into a misty wakefulness which is sullied by the opening of the apartment doors again. This time three sisters spill into the room, each dressed in varying shades of night; black, navy and indigo, accented with jewels strung tight against the hollows of their throats and the morning light catches in the crystals and casts the room in speckled light.
With as much grace as she can muster this early in the morning, Elain unceremoniously slumps down on your unmade bed and crawls to sit beside you as you once had when you were girls.
“Get up!” Nesta commands briskly leaning against your vanity.
“Morning, love,” Elain says, her voice airy on the morning breeze. She looks particularly wraith-like this morning, her eyes are ringed purple and her rich sienna irises are glazed over, glassy and veiled with a milky film that speaks to an oncoming vision.
Your bed shifts under the weight of movement again as Feyre places Nyx, swaddled in his favorite blanket, into the space beside you. He moves against the confines of his wrappings, coiling and loosening and he is half-free before you pull him into your embrace. His smile and quiet babbling tugs on your emotions in a way that almost feels like a carefully crafted ruse.
“Using the baby against me is cruel.” You chastise, pulling yourself to sit against the headboard as you take Nyx in your arms so that he is resting on your knees.
“I know but you really do need to get up.” Feyre says, still half-wrapped in the arms of sleep herself. Feyre is the night; dark, and vast, strangely comforting.
“The High Lord has asked to see you before the ceremony,” Nesta says. Her voice is filled with something sharp and wicked. They’re all looking at you now; each saturated in her own shade of sympathy as you resign yourself to action. Rising from the bed in feigned indifference, you wordlessly hand Nyx off to his mother, before walking over to the copper tub in front of the dying fire. The cold copper draws the heat from your skin and in its wake leaves an icy metallic sting that cuts bone deep.
“Very well then,” You say with a heavy sigh, “I best not keep him waiting.”
You look to your sisters then, once they had been three girls; mortal and each afraid and now they stand before you half-divine and formidable. And where did you stand amongst them? You don’t feel particularly formidable.
You feel fractured, all adrift in a violent sea.
So today you will wear your sisters virtues like armor. Until you have sworn yourself to him.
“We’ll not keep you,” Nesta says, cutting through the poignant silence as you rise on uncertain feet towards the tub nodding curtly at them as they disperse.
The swathes of your ivory nightgown pool like water at your feet as you wade into the tub before sinking low into its comforting warmth. The water is white-hot, burns in the most sadistic way, and when the burning subsides it gives way to a misty wakefulness saturated by the aromatic smell of juniper and jasmine. You recline your head against the lip of the tub and cast your gaze to your sisters again. .
In this light Nesta looks like a vision; draped in black and silver, her hair braided like a crown atop her head and her face has an austere beauty that could bring a King to his knees. Nesta is a silver flame; wrathful and vengeful, and should she let it, her fire would ravage worlds until all that stood between her and total destruction was herself.
Eris is flame too; terrible and red. Slow-burning, all-consuming and utterly devastating.
Like calls to Like.
Once your sisters have left you let yourself sink into the scalding waters, sinking lower and lower until you are submerged entirely; the water becomes you and you it. Nesta always said that you were water; calm and clear with a dangerous anger that swells like a storm under the skin's surface, violent like the sea. And should you let it, the tempest will tear you apart, and perhaps the world with it. Looking up from underneath the fractured rays of sunlight spill into the room and pierce through the dark waters– there is something sacred in that sinking feeling. Then visions come to you in flashes of black, red and–
“I dreamt of you last night,” It’s Elain’s voice that lingers on the edges of your room. It’s airy and haunting and her eyes are wide and glassy as she exhales. Elain is flowers; painted in the pastels of Springs early blooms and her hair shines like shadowed sunlight in the pale morning.
“I dreamt of you and him.”
“A dream or a vision?” You ask, your voice wavering and curious.
Elain takes a tentative step into the room, her fingers buried into the skirts of her dress and she broaches the subject again, “I hadn’t had a vision in months”.
“But last night I saw you.”
Elain’s soft hands brush over your own, the tips of your fingers tangling together and your draw in a sharp breath as something in you calls to her and all the breath is taken from you when she reaches out a pale hand to your cheek.
It burns through you like fire and Elain begins to speak.
'These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and water,
Which as they kiss consume.’
Elain falls through the ether with a deep inhale as the trance falls away from her and she scrambles to find something to ground herself in those moments.You brace yourself against the lip of the tub as Elain falls to the floor in tears, hands desperately grasping for anything to hold onto. Soaked to the bone and bare to the world you take your trembling sister in your arms and hold her there until the ragged breaths soothe and settle to a steady inhale-exhale. You run a confronting hand through Elain’s unbound hair, pressing a chaste kiss against her hairline repeating the words to her. It’s okay. I’m here. Elain looks up at you through dark lashes, wet with unshed tears when she whispers hoarsely.
“Please don’t marry Eris Vanserra.”
---
The cloister in the royal temple on the outskirts of Verona is steeped in near darkness save for the jade light from the stained glass windows that pierces the veil of the dark, like sunlight as it cascades down into the murky green depths of the river that flanks the Autumn’s capital city. There is a solemn silence that hangs in the air and for a moment this room feels more like a watery grave than a quiet reprieve from the ceremony below. The orchestral music plays and you pick out the sounds of lyres and harps as their music washes over you. You suck in a sharp breath and all at once you feel panic hit you like a raging tempest, wild and raging as it drags you into its merciless depths--
The sharp knock on the screen door reverberates through the silence of the cloister.
“Come in.” You say, your voice hoarse and shaky as clutch at the tight lacing of your corset, trying to catch your breath again. Light spills into the room like the tide and you turn, half-expecting to see one of your sisters standing there, her face painted in sympathy as she takes you in her arms and whispers a few comforting words to you.
The man that stands before you is a much more volatile prospect indeed.
“My Lord.” You greet him coldly.
“High Lord now, isn’t it?” Beron Vanserra offers you a saccharine smile as he crosses the threshold of the makeshift bridal apartments. He’s dressed in a deep crimson tunic, embroidered with threads of gold; It is wholly perverse for a man so cruel to look so poised and striking. You notice the way his shoulder length hair looks like polished bronze and his eyes shine like onyx in the morning light as he regards you.
“Don’t you make a beautiful bride,” Beron’s voice is laden with false flattery, undercut with an air of threat, “you’re going to make my son a very happy male.”
Beron all but leers at you. His eyes trail lazily over the curves and divots of your body in the obscenely intricate dress he had chosen for you. It is adorned in rubies and pearls that catch in the light like drops of blood. You feel your skin begin to crawl when he presses a chaste kiss to your outstretched hand.
“It is a shame about Eris though.” Beron says dangerously low, as if daring you to ask what it is he means.
“The flowers look very beautiful” you muse absently, it is all you can offer him-- some small, non-committal response to placate him.
Beron pays you no heed.
“I’m assured no expense has been spared with the ceremony.” Beron continues, picking at some stray threads on the sleeve of his tunic. His lips are set in a straight line and you notice the grimace that graces his features as he takes in the decor from your spot in the cloister overlooking the antechamber of the temple.
The walls are carved into ivory marble and sandstone, and the high, Gothic archways are adorned with carvings of mythological heroes and Princes from songs. The large circular window behind the altar is decorated with stained glass that casts a myriad of dappled light onto the marble tiles. You swallow thickly thinking of the obscenely large sum of money being spent on your mating ceremony to the Autumn heir.
“So I’ve heard, High Lord.” Beron nods at that, the use of his title softening him to you again and you dip your head in a show of false deference.
“Yes, well,” Beron says, his lips twitching lightly as he traces the swell of your breasts and the slope of your neck, “I have reason to believe you will be worth every penny.”
Beron takes a step towards you and you loose a breath as he draws nearer still. His frail, aged hand reaches out to touch you. From your position in the cloister Beron Vanserra towers over you. His presence is a looming reminder of your position in this world. His slender fingers feel warm and smooth against the skin of your throat as he tilts your chin so that you are looking in his eyes. You wonder if Eris’ touch feels as perverse.
It wasn't that night in Hewn City, you remember. That night he had touched you with such careful reverence.
Like you were a Goddess worth kneeling too.
“You should be warned,” Beron says to you, his eyes bore into yours and in them you see something akin to devilment cross them. Beron’s voice is soft and pensive in a way that seems rehearsed “The Autumn Court is an inhospitable place for outsiders.”
“Rhysand might be content for you to play at war and politics but you will find that in Autumn it is not becoming of a Lady of your position.”
“Yes, My Lord” you say, your voice equally as soft, with an almost breathless quality to it as the realization of his words takes root in your chest. Your heart is thunderous in your chest-- it beats so loud you’re sure The High Lord of Autumn is privy to it.
Beron hums thoughtfully as he lets go of your chin once more.
“Eris has a dangerous temper -- the fire runs hot in his veins” Beron’s words are chosen carefully, crafted to intimidate. “I can assure you he will not abide these foolish notions any more than I will.”
You nod meekly, recalling the words of Elain’s vision. These violent delights will have violent ends.
“He might be blinded by the thought of a pretty face and a tight cunt for now but it won’t last.” He muses to himself and again you see that light fade from his eyes and morph into a sadistic joy as his words spark outrage on your face.
You don’t dare look at him again lest he see the tears that have gathered at your waterline. Beron considers you for a moment, sweeping you up in his hold so that your arm is wrapped around his bicep loosely and he begins to lead you from the darkness of the cloister and into the light.
“And what will my position be at court?” You ask carefully, observing the harsh set of Beron’s jaw as you talk.
“As Eris’ mate you will be a Lady of the Autumn court -- you’ll take tea and play cards, attend balls -- bear him sons.” Beron laughs, casting a glance to you as you continue your descent down the temple stairs before he takes his leave. Then he is gone with the wave of a hand and he leaves the charred scent of wyrmwood and valerian root in his wake. You lose a shaky breath and try ceaselessly to wipe the unshed tears from your eyes before continuing your descent into the heart of the temple.
Your storm rages violent and cold then; You were born from the depths of the sea. To be cruel and beautiful. You are not some docile little girl or a brood mare destined to bear sons and obey.
You are a storm incarnate and by the time you are done, the whole world will know it.
The temple in Verona is carved deep into the natural sandstone of a cliff face, its sharp peak cleaving it from the valley and river beyond. The grand temple overlooks the river and on days such as this, the smell of seafoam and salt, stains the air. The stained glass windows line the junction between the walls and ceilings, and illustrated in them, is the story of birth, creation and rebirth. It breeds a strange sense of reverence in you. As the sun filters through the windows in beams of shadowed light, the aisle is dappled in a technicolor glow. The air is thick and heady with the smell of wine and smoke and from your spot at the end of the aisle, you can see The High Priestess intoning her mass. The Priestess is obscured by plumes of incense smoke and the flicker of candle flame illuminates her face. She is a vision in the lonine orange light; she is heavily veiled, runes adorn her arms and face, and her eyes shine with a cerulean clarity as she chants her blessings to the Fae in attendance. Her altar is littered with offerings to the mated pair, amphora’s of fae-wine, bouquets of lilac and patchouli, small trinkets and garlands of laurel and pomegranate. The temple is alive with ceremony; a possession of veiled priestesses, anointed with incense, leave a trail of petals in their wake, as they kneel at the foot of the altar before filing into the pews.
“Last chance to run!” It’s Cassian’s voice that jolts you from thought.
He laughs as you clutch at your chest as you reel from his intrusion. He’s dressed in his ceremonial uniform; it’s much prettier than the frayed training leathers you’re used to seeing him in. His broad shoulders seem to strain against the navy fabric that is decorated with embroidered silver brocade. His hair is pushed back behind his ears neatly, a few errant strands catch on the breeze and he looks more like the Cassian you had grown to care for.
“I think it’s a little late for that now.” Rhysand says pointedly to Cassian as he retreats into the aisle to find his seat at the front of the temple with the rest of your family and friends.
On the opposite side of the aisle Beron Vanserra stands near the altar along with Eris and his favorite courtiers and trusted soldiers that gather behind him to bear witness to the hastily brokered mating ceremony his father had managed to coerce you into. And there’s a woman. She’s tall and beautiful with hair the color of sand and a face that is bright and warm. She looks out into the aisle with contempt and then back again to Eris and from here, on the outside looking in, you can see it. Not quite love but fire; consuming and searing through her and the heat seems to seep into his bones as he turns around to meet her eyes and you can swear you see the ghost of regret grace his face.
You will make him kneel to you, you think. As you had done that night in Hewn City. He had called you Goddess then.
A storm incarnate, you remind yourself as you approach the aisle hesitantly. Violent, merciless, and beautiful. With all the force of a raging tempest.
As the orchestral music begins to sweep through the temple you feel Rhysand clear his throat and come to stand at your side, his eyes burning holes into the side of your face. Rhysand is dressed all in black. In his High Lord robes he cuts an intimidating figure. In this holy light he looks quite beautiful, in a boyish sort of way, never really having shed that youthful magnetism that seemed to enamour everyone so. On any other day, you wouldn’t have looked twice at Rhysand but as your freedom hangs precariously in the balance you want to cling to something you know-- something warm and familiar and safe. So you take his arm as he guides you out into the aisle.
Your vision is partially obscured by the light mesh veil that adorns your face. It’s honey coloured and decorated with tiny ruby crystals that fall like tears. The dress itself looks like wine red; satin and chiffon that clings to you like water as it marks the contours and caverns of your body in a way that makes you feel laid bare. The fabric is gathered about your bust delicately and accentuates the slope of your shoulders. Rhysand’s cool fingers rub comforting circles into the flesh of your arm where he holds it tight. He feels your tense involuntarily as the harps swell to a stop when you step up to the heart of the temple.
Then you see him; it’s hypnotic and slightly aggravating as he examines you, his eyes trailing over your body and coming to land on your face. He looks at you and you feel as though light goes all through you. He’s steeped in jewel tones that saturate him in autumnal light as he stands against the cool marble and stone of the temple. His hair is tousled and rust coloured in the half-extinguished candle flame and his eyes shine like amber, incandescent and devastating. His tunic is jade coloured and embellished with gold thread along the cuffs and collar.
“Come forward, child,” the Priestess gestures to you as you take a step towards the altar, bowing your head in a show of devotion. She takes your hand in hers and kisses it chastely, murmuring a blessing against your skin. She repeats the action for Eris before gesturing to you to face him. When you turn to face him he takes a step forward on certain feet and takes hold of the sheer fabric that veils you, briefly admiring the feel of it between his fingers before bringing it over your head in one fluid movement so that your face is entirely unobstructed from view. Eris burns bright; a slow-burning flame. It’s warm and all-consuming but no less volatile, no less devastating. As the priestess continues to intone her blessings, you and Eris stand, looking at each other in the light searching for something to cling to in each other’s eyes in those sinking moments. In a flurry of movement the priestess takes your hand again before pressing the ceremonial blade to your palm, the metal glints in the dappled light and a slicing burn gives way to blood that pools like rubies at Eris’s feet.
Stepping to the altar he grasps your hand in his as a pained hiss escapes you. His hands are broad and warm and his fingers are long and graceful as they ghost over your cold skin. Your fist clenches in his unrelenting grip and when he feels it, he yields to you, his hand going slack as your fingers curl around his. He had the strange tenderness of someone who has never been loved, it seems almost rehearsed. His palms and the pads of his fingers are rough and mottled with fire and the way he holds your hand in his is possessive.
Sacred and perverse.
His hand pulls away from you now and in turn he offers it up to the priestess, she turns it over in her grasp and slices into his palm as she had done to you. He places his hand in yours again. Palm to bloody palm as he sinks to his knees before you. He kneels to you in his own show of reverence; you, the visage of some ancient deity and he, the last devotee.
Eris Vanserra works diligently, threading the ribbon through your joined hands, binding your bloody hand to his. The crimson ribbon that joins you, a representation of the oaths by which you are bound together.
Your shared sin.
The words come next; spoke in unison and recited like a prayer:
Ode to my love;
Blood of my blood, bone of my bone;
Here, I surrender myself unto you;
In sight of The Mother;
I give that which is only mine to give;
My word, my bond, my fealty,
I pledge to shield your back, and keep your counsel,
I pledge that yours will be the name I cry aloud in the night,
And yours the arms in which i wake
I pledge to you my living and dying;
I am yours and you are mine,
From this day until our last day.
The next few hours seem to pass in a perpetual state of anxiety induced haze and you bear witness to it all from somewhere outside of yourself; a ghost or spectator to the tragedy that had become your union to The Autumn Prince.
Your beautiful mate.
This should have been a happy occasion; the union of two souls, bound together by the Gods themselves. Born from the same star. But Beron Vanserra had robbed you of any romantic notions that today is anything but a warning fire.
You are a vulnerability. His mate. And whether Eris Vanserra loves you or not Beron intends to exploit that vulnerability; a pretty ornament to bring Eris to heel.
The ballroom is a show of opulence; soaked in the amethyst fae-light and chandeliers glitter like moonglow on open water. The paintings hang on the wall, rich oil on canvas, framed in gilded gold and the high table is decorated with fine ivory place settings and delicate china adorned with painted autumn leaves. The retinue of Beron’s courtiers look like a jewel-toned fire; flames of amber, topaz, and ruby that burn through the cool light of the ballroom as they take to their seats. It’s a great farce. The way that the colours of night and autumn come together in a crude harmony. You wonder if Eris sees it too.
The music is soft and loud and mixed with the laughter and idle chatter the hall is a cacophony of sound, no longer ceremonial and orchestral but rather, jovial and light-hearted with an undercurrent of anticipation. From your position at the heart of the high table, you can see the courtiers of Night and Autumn mingling on the lower tables, and as the fourth course is served, it seems inebriation is beginning to set in. Their faces in the crowd are exaggerated and expressive, the distinct wine-blush staining the room a specific shade of hedonism. The air is thick with it, wine and body heat. It’s almost tangible.
The sound of Cassian’s voice echoes along the high table as he and Nesta seem to be in the midst of a heated debate. Feyre and Mor are quietly discussing court gossip with animated gasps and hand gestures that you only catch from the corner of your eye. All of that is drowned out by the conversation between Rhysand, Beron and Eris.
You only stare on, watching and waiting as the evening begins to unfold before you.
You cast your eyes along the table to see that it is laden with food; roasted meats, and seasonal vegetables, garnished with fragrant spices and herbs that taint the air with their aroma. It’s pure gluttony. More food than you have ever seen, piled high and largely untouched. It seems cruel to you. To be confronted with such abundance now, when once, hunger was all you knew. It should feel like heaven to live in the knowledge that you will never know poverty again but sometimes it feels like condemnation. To live knowing that your life, meagre as it was, had been stolen from you and in its place, this.
The stiffening of the body next to you brings you back from the precipice. Eris is a vision in the sapphire light; his face is beautiful in the most conflicting ways. He’s all delicate and angular; soft slopes and harsh lines that come together in opposing harmony. His face is a perfect juxtaposition. He’s a slow-burning fire tangled in the amethyst moonglow.
“You should eat something,” His voice is tense and low and he doesn’t deign to look at you when he speaks. Even his presence is contradictory in nature; the way his face is set in a neutral expression that arches on contemptuous, and yet, his hand, still bound to yours, is warm and tender, as the calloused pad of his thumb strokes slow tortuous circles into the skin of your hand.
“I’m not hungry,” it is a lie, an obvious one at that, as at that moment your stomach seems to betray you. He laughs then. Much to the ire of Beron who sends one measured glance to his heir, never quite looking away from Rhysand as he talks about some foreign policy or the other.
The laugh itself is not wholly cruel but teasing, meant to make you feel small as he finally turns his gaze on you. It’s fierce and piercing, warm and you think that when he is looking at you the whole world melts away for a few moments. Eris is handsome; of that there had never been any doubt. Especially in this light he almost takes your breath away.
“Please eat something, little fox.” is all he says finally, cutting through the tension that had settled over the two of you.
You laugh back at him now as he watches you carefully, his stare is unyielding and burns into the side of your face. Yet you refuse him the satisfaction of looking back at him. It is Beron’s stare that has you shrinking in place, searing and critical as it bores into the side of your face. It is then you notice the woman he had brought with him looks at you both with a peculiar mixture of envy and scorn that makes heat coil in your stomach, it creeps up on you, kissing its way up your throat and ghosting over your cheeks, leaving blush stains in its wake.
You look at him once more, forlorn and dejected when he won’t meet your gaze. You look down to the space between you to the place where your hands are bound to his. Your hands are clasped together and come to rest on your thigh innocently as his thumb continues to rub small circles into the skin of your hand. It’s absent-minded and self-soothing on his part. You doubt he realizes or cares about the comfort it has been bringing you in these moments when you feel like you are drowning. So you surrender yourself to the tide.
You are the sea; wild and untamed, sacred like salt. A force to be reckoned with. And try as he might, he will not burn you.
When your stomach elicits another growl you relent to him and decide to eat something after all even if the satisfaction on his face is enough to awaken the storm brewing inside of you. It’s not quite anger but either way, it washes over you and awakens you with a jolt.
With your free hand you grab the first thing in front of you; pomegranate, ripe and sweet-smelling and red. Red like the thread that binds you to him. You spend a few moments contemplating it before letting your free hand fall to your thigh, to the place where his body joins with yours. You begin tugging at the binding in an attempt to free yourself from his tender grip.
“No!” His voice is louder and sterner than he meant for it to sound as he pushes you away with his unbound hand.
“Why not?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at the harsh tone in his voice, “it’s just a stupid ribbon.”
You attempt to free yourself again, only this time his grip is rough and unrelenting.
“That stupid ribbon is thousands of years of tradition, girl.” It is Beron’s voice, cruel and malignant that chastises you.
“My apologies.” you say dumbly in response, looking down to where your hands are joined in shame, “forgive me High Lord.” You’re not sure if it's Beron of Eris you are apologizing to. But it is Beron’s words that play on your mind.
Eris bids you to look at him when his father is once again taken into conversation with Rhysand and you notice then how Eris’ amber gaze softens with his grip as he lets go of your free hand and he waves you off as you look on apologetically. These are the traditions of his people. And foreign as they are to you, they are his; yours now too you suppose.
“The ribbon signifies the sacred vows we have made to each other.” Eris explains carefully and those amber eyes never once leave yours. Even as he brings his free hand to cradle your face in one hand, or as he runs a tender thumb over the the smooth flesh of your cheek.
“I’m sor-” you move to apologize again though the words are cut short when Eris squeezes your hand comfortingly beneath the table and offers you a secret smile. A secret courtesy to be kept between you and him.
“Think nothing of it, wife.” There’s a little bite to the words that speak to his jest and you feel once again that you are talking to the man that had enamored you so that night in Hewn City.
He clears his throat again to speak.
His voice is measured and calm this time as he says “It can’t be removed until the wedding night.”
“The wedding night?” you ask, looking up at him as he turns away again.
“Until the marriage has been consummated.” Eris clarifies, not daring to look at you he shifts a little in his seat, crossing his boot-clad leg over his knee.
“Ahah! The bedding!” Beron leers at you and you notice the twitch in Eris’ jaw but his face remains set in a perfectly neutral expression before morphing into his own rehearsed smirk. He mutters something to his father that you can’t quite catch but whatever it is, it is enough that Beron hums in satisfaction and turns back to The Night Lord of Night with a dangerous smile on his lips.
You swallow hard.
Your throat goes dry and makes it harder to swallow your dread. Silence settles over you both again, you’re not sure that he notices or pays much mind to you in those moments but drowning in the silence, you feel his hand squeeze yours with a fond pressure that makes your heart swell with something close to affection.
After a few more moments of that awkward silence and his hand squeezing yours, you dare to look along the table again. Beside you Rhys is sat in a grand chair that marks him as a High Lord, next is Feyre who cradles Nyx in her arms as he sleeps soundly despite the music and chatter of the courtiers. Nesta and Cassian seem wholly immersed in each other, each drinking deeply from their cups as their conversation becomes louder. At some point, she catches your eye and quirks a brow at you in question. You can’t think of what to do so you only shake your head a little in response, hardly enough for anyone else to notice.
Moving on you find Azriel in the crowd, he’s pressed against the wall, drink in hand, spectating from the sidelines as he does, lying in wait for something to catch his attention. Something does catch his attention though; it’s you. He sees the way you watch him carefully. There was something dark and reassuring in his eyes, a wordless conversation contained between you and him in that moment. He’s been a friend to you this whole time, and his distrust of Eris meant he was the only one openly vocal about his reservations regarding your marriage to the Autumn prince. Apart from you of course. Azriel slinks off into the shadows and not long after you notice that Elain has also managed to escape. There is some amusement in how obvious they are in their affections for each other and yet, not one person is observant enough to take notice of it.
“Your sister, Elain,” he starts, there is a menace in his voice and a thread of amusement as he cocks a brow to Lucien who is dancing with Feyre now, “She’s my brother's mate, yes?”
“She is, My Lord.” You nod, your eyes fixed on Lucien, who had been begrudgingly invited and you find yourself enamored by his graceful movements as he sweeps Feyre up in one fluid motion, turning with her in his arms before placing her on the ground again. Lucien is beautiful you think; not in the same way as Eris perhaps, Lucien is sunlight where Eris is fire-- but beautiful still.
“Have you noticed the way she always seems to disappear in a room full of people and no one seems to notice,” It’s not meant to be a jape or a taunt just simple observation on his part as his eyes scan the room and Elain is nowhere to be found amongst the masses of bodies.
“The spymaster, too.” he adds, his tone is careful and bereft of emotion.
“How strange,” you say, offering him a weak smile in response. Any smart retort lives and dies on the tip of your tongue at that moment and you’re left trying to scrape some dismissal together but no matter how hard you try, nothing will come forth.
“Perhaps they have retired to their beds for the night.” he offers, a sly smile on his beautiful lips.
Clearly, someone else is taking note.
He turns to you then and you can see the wicked smile that takes over his features but it is gone just as quickly as he looks down at you clumsily holding your knife in hand in an attempt to tear open the fruit in front of you so that you may finally eat.
“Here,” he says softly, reaching over you with his free hand to take the pomegranate from your hands, “give me the knife”.
“Don’t trouble yourself, My Lord,” you say quickly, your hand covering his to stop him in his tracks.
“No you don’t” he says simply waving your hand away again. Eris holds out his large hand to you, his palm open and expectant as his eyes find yours. Gods, he is devastating, you think. And intimidating. You see a flash of fire cross his eyes and Beron’s words play in your mind once more.
You twirl the cheese knife in your hand once more before handing it to Eris with a trembling touch. Eris is skilled with a knife. His fingers are elegant and deft with a blade like he knows it innately. It is malleable under his touch and glides through the air as he carves into the pomegranate. Fruit flesh relents to the sting of his blade; sweet liquid spills onto his fingers like blood and the seeds shine like rubies in the candlelight. Eris takes a seed between his thumb and forefinger, holding it to the light before holding it to the sulk on your lips. Fruit flesh is cool and wet against your lips, the juice is tart and sweet and red.
Almost metallic.
Almost like blood.
It takes you a few moments to relent to him but when you do, you obediently open your mouth to him; all pretty pink lips and canines. It’s feral the way he watches you. The way you watch him. Like two predators circling their prey. There’s the ghost of a dare glinting in his eyes when you lean into him and wrap your lips around his fingers. It’s metallic and sweet, a heady mixture of skin and seed. You moan gospel around his deft fingers and when you are done he looks as though he is ready to devour you.
The little peace that you had found in those moments seems to subside with the abrupt ending to the music as Rhysand stands beside you raising a glass to the room, with others following one by one to also raise their glasses.
“As the night draws to its close, let me be the first to wish you both well; my greatest wish is to see your bond grow strong, and with it the pledges we have borne witness to today. Your union is tangible proof of the alliance between our two courts and with your love, let those allegiances too grow strong so that we may all know peace and abundance in equal measure.”
As Rhysand’s speech draws to its close you feel Eris’s hand again squeezing at yours as if in warning for what will come next. Rhysand’s words didn’t surprise you as you thought they might, they lacked any brotherly sincerity and in its place was the proof that you had been sold to Eris so that Rhysand may profit off your sacrifice.
“As is tradition, the bride and groom will now retire to their bed.” As those words leave Beron’s lips you feel yourself pale in a mixture of embarrassment and dread. It’s Cassian who draws your attention as in his drunken stupor he hollers at the mere mention of the bedding. Nesta is quick to silence him with a jab to the ribs and she sends you an apologetic half-smile. Not that it appeases you any. This is the fate they have designed for you. It is easier to resign yourself to it, and relinquish control instead of having it taken from you. Breaking is easier than being broken.
As the music begins again Eris seems to don a mask; his smile is saccharine as he rises to his feet in one fluid motion and you follow shortly after. He leads you to the middle of the ballroom and looks again at where your bodies are joined together. He places his free hand on the small of your back and in turn, you wrap your arm around his shoulder. He leads you effortlessly into a slow, sultry walk as you and he slink from the opulent ballroom and into the long, narrow corridors of The Forest House.
“Are you afraid?” Eris asks gently as he examines you carefully and you don’t miss the way his eyes linger at the swell of your breasts or the way his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hip as he leads you up the grand staircase.
“Should I be afraid, My Lord?” you ask incredulously, offering him a sweet, amenable smile. That is what they want you to be, isn’t it? Agreeable, obedient, docile. A pretty thing to warm his bed and keep his counsel until his father is dead and buried.
He looks down at where your hands are bound together and you swallow hard.
You have already been bought and sold and with every passing second you can’t help but think your fate is to be a broodmare to birth sons and live in quiet isolation.
As Eris’s own mother has.
That behind Eris’s scheming and his initial hesitancy to claim you, there is still a lingering sense of ownership. That he felt entitled to you, to your body and your life should it come to that. All because The Mother deemed him worthy of you. For all his solemn promises he still bought you for a price.
“I won’t touch you,” there is sincerity in his voice that warms you, nerves set alight as his broad hand ghosts your uncovered shoulder.
“Not until you ask me to, anyway,” he adds, there is an air of playfulness in his voice but there is something else. At that moment you are assured that if you would have him, Eris would ravage you. He might be a cruel prince with a wicked temper, but there is an irresistible and undeniable tension between you. Something that calls your body to his. Perhaps it is the wine, or the gravity of the vows you have sworn to one another but either way, this man before you is lust incarnate.
“What if I never want you to touch me?” you retort, there is something unserious about the way you say it. Both of you know that it is only a matter of time before you permit him into your bed.
“I can’t say I’ve ever dreamed of the priesthood.” He laughs a little. It is sweet and careless as his hand dips a little lower on your hips.
“I’m sure you’ll find some pretty little nymph to devote yourself to,” you say, thinking of the sandy-haired woman who had been watching you all night. Eris’ face twists into a fox-like grin. Like he has finally got you right where he wants you.
“Who was the woman here today, the one with the golden hair?” you ask, your gaze wavering under the heat of Eris’ stare.
“Her name is Chryseis, but you needn’t pay her any mind” he reassures you, forcing you to look at him. And only him. He’s right. She isn’t important, not truly. What’s more pressing is the way her eyes trailed you contemptuously and the feeling of volatile jealousy that toot root in your body. It is unnatural and selfish. Whatever Eris and that woman share predates you, and any vows he made to you.
“She is very beautiful” You don’t quite know where the words come from but it tastes like saltwater on your tongue, “Is she what you gave up to have me?”
“She is nothing to me,” he says honestly. You think it is nice to see him like that, in those small moments where he is unencumbered by all that plagues him.
In that moment, you stand there, your hand still bound to Eris and again you allow the world to dissolve like sugar on your tongue when he is looking at you like that. His fire is gentle and slow-burning now, it comes off him in hot plumes of smoke.
“Do you always ask so many questions?” he quips as he tries to catch his breath, painfully aware of how your hearts beat in tandem, “Or only when you’re jealous?”
He’s toying with you now and humiliation coils tight in your chest.
“Why would I be jealous of your lover?” you say, all bared teeth and venom as the tension between you cools to anger. It’s unnerving, and your hairs stand on end in morbid anticipation. As he closes the gap between you so that you are chest to chest. So close that his lips ghost over your own as he comes to whisper in your ear.
“I never said she was my lover” Eris jibes, only half-amused as he takes in the way you shrink before him as his fathers words ring in your ears once again each time you bring yourself to fan the flames of his anger.
“If you want me to forsake all other women, all you have to do is ask.” his breath is hot on your neck and he stares down at you, hypnotized by the rise and fall of your chest. “I offered as much that first night in Hewn City, don’t you remember?”
“Let it be my first act as your husband.” The way he says it is full of ardour and taunt. You’ve no doubt that he would too. But you are the sea; violent and willful and you will not surrender to him yet.
You don’t say anything then only press your bound palm to his before leaning into him. His eyes pierce your soul and warmth pools in the pit of your stomach as his hot breath fans your face, lips coming to meet yours in a tender kiss. Only before you can heed the call of your soul to his, you pull away from him.
Eris hisses at the sudden loss of touch and he drops his free hand and begins to untether your hand from his. He turns his back to you, readjusting his posture to a cool, calculated slouch that exudes an aura of arrogance that he wears so well. The sounds of his riding boots against the tile cut through you like a knife. He tosses his head to the side, long russet strands framing his profile as he speaks again.
“You called me a Goddess once, do you remember?” Your eyes search his and in that strange amber gaze you see the man you saw that night is Hewn City. Wicked and vulnerable and good, despite it all. Eris nods and you watch the long column of his throat as he swallows thickly.
“Tonight I will let you kneel at my altar.” Eris Vanserra moves like a man starved; all teeth and tongue and ardent hands as he pushes you up against the wall outside of him apartments. His kiss is all consuming and devouring as he claims you with reckless abandon. His hands are warm and sure against you; one that holds your jaw gently and the other holds your hip in a bruising grip.
“You are going to be my ruin, wife.” His echoing whisper answers as his figure retreats into the darkness with the promise of what is to come.
#eris vanserra#eris x reader#eris x you#eris vanserra x reader#eris vanserra x you#eris acotar#acotar#acotar x reader#acotar fanfiction
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Fucking in their offices with the veteran trio please ☺️
Wow I'm getting a lot of requests asking for these three actually and I am NOT complaining lol.
Disclaimer: I use they/them pronouns for Hanji and since this request is NSFW in nature also AFAB language/terms will also be used for them. And tldr summary of this entire thing: poor Survey Corps desks, man... the true strongest soldiers ❤️🩹
(Gender neutral reader)
(NSFW contents under the cut)
Levi Ackerman
Takes issue with the idea at first, after all this is the place he works - important papers who knows been god-knows-where and shit get signed and handed off at that desk. To fuck on it would be unsanitary you know how many people have touched this thing? Plus it would leave an unnecessary mess, and not to mention the door leading to his connected bedroom is not even like... eleven steps away from it. With a bed. A bed he knows only the two have you have been in and with sheets that are cleaned everyday. Why not just fuck you there instead? It seems obvious. Until, that is, one day you're having a heated argument - one he looks back on as very dumb but he knows how stubborn he can be when not backing down on something, especially when it involves Erwin's equally as stubborn ass who tends to drag him into his messes and therefore creating this argument you had - and he doesn't exactly remember the turning point of when you started kissing each other with such tenacity or when you started ripping each other's clothes off but it's when you're pushed back on his desk, pushing all his neat stacked paperwork onto the floor sprawled back with your legs spread with that demanding "fuck me," glint in yours eyes.
Eh. It just clicked and now he's thinking with his dick.
His kisses are frantic. He bites all over the base of your throat and leaves marks he knows you're going to have trouble hiding the next day but that's honestly the further thing from his mind right now as he has three fingers shoved all the way to the knuckles inside you right now prying your hole practically wide open.
Your legs are anchored on his hips, your pants dangling one of them and the straps of your gear hanging loose off of them keep snapping into his ass to an annoying point where he completely rips them off and tosses them to the complete opposite side of the room.
Yank and pull on his hair. Do it and he'll let put a guttural groan and shove you down further on the desk where your back is completely on it and you have to physically strain to keep your head up from keeping it from hanging over the edge - to 'assist' you from having to do this he puts a hand in your hair in return, holding your head up and make you look as he fucks you with his nearly his entire hand now. It gets your eyes all glossy as you feel so overwhelmed, you feel so good.
"You're pitiful, you know that?" He tells you, picking up the pace as you squeeze around his fingers. "But that's just fine... preferable actually. I love seeing you this way and I'm not even properly fucking you yet."
When he enters you the desk finally creaks. It's a sound that itches his brain turns out, it gets his silver grays all wide that he pauses what he's doing for just a lingering moment - to your dismay as you're now flipped on your stomach on the surface with your ass out, grinding back onto him whimpering for him to move, which he gives a slight buck and there it is again. The creak. He needs to hear it again. Again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And-
It's the combination of both your noises - all the moans, groans, curses, whimpers, and gritted calls of his name on your lips - and the wooden thudding, metalic complaining, the slight crackles that his desk, the one he's had since getting promoted to Captain and earning this office, that reeeeaallly gets his rocks off as he pounds you into it.
He thinks about just about how many boring exchanges he's had at his desk, all the meetings, the Cadet reprimantions, that fucking time that noble had the balls to come to his - at the time - brand new office and lecture him and newly appointed Commander Erwin who was visiting up and down how he still didn't approve of this "Gutter-rat thug," getting such a high position of military rank in barely over a year and had threatened to pull fundings. Now look at him. Captain 'Gutter-rat thug,' currently fucking you over it. Weirdly hot. Next time he has those boring exchanges he'll definitely have something nice to distract himself now.
He drapes himself over you from behind, continuing to mark up your neck and whisper in hushed tones all sort of both dirty things mixed with genuine praises of love and adoration - things only meant for you to hear, afterall he can still wreck you to the point of pleasured tears and still be all sappy, you know? It's not like anyone else is around. He likes doing it with one of your legs picked up from off the ground and holding it up in the crease of his arms - spreading you open wider for him to take and every creak and crackle of the desk underneath you is like a euphoric punctuation to ever single thrust he makes deep inside you that only grows louder, and louder, and louder, and louder, and louder, and louder until it almost sounds like thunder.
When you two finally finish, both out of breath like you just ran a mile as all your love spills between you does Levi pull back to assess the mess that trickles in flooding globs that forms into large puddles onto the rocky wood that rationality sets back in him like a truck.
"M'gonna have to clean and disinfect that... fucking knows how I'm going to get the damn smell out before those snooping fuckin-"
You move without out saying anything, down on your wobbly knees but you still make eye contact as you perform your next sinful action: licking it all up, every single bit left behind on the hardwood.
Levi just blinks. Dumbfounded.
It doesn't matter how big or small you are, Levi has you picked up and tucked under his arm before he can even realize it - he takes those eleven steps to his and yours shared bedroom and tosses you on the bed and kicks the door behind him close. You two aren't done yet.
It's later the next day when Levi gets a knock at his office door, which he barely even has to let out permission to come in as he currently is reorganizing the some of your books on his shelf and cleaning around the general area as the door opens and comes in Erwin, stack of papers in his hand.
"Levi," He greets closing the door behind him and walking further into the office.
The Captain just hums, setting the current book in his hands down and moving to the next to carefully wipe down the cover and shaky off any gathered dust from the pages. Erwin then stands there awkwardly for a moment, rubbing back his pomade slick hair before speaking again.
"I think I should apologize for causing you and (Name) to argue yesterday at the meeting with Zackley, that wasn't my intention. Again, my apologies."
"I know. Tell them that."
"I will, I just thought I'd come here first. I have the documents you requested."
Levi hums again, with his rag he starts to scrubs down a stain mark on the shelf he hasn't noticed before. Meanwhile Erwin slowly trudges over to the Captain's desk, putting a careful eye on the documents in his hands before he shuffles around where he's facing away from desk and goes to sit down before Levi catches it at the last second from the corner of his eye and immediately goes to yell for him not to and then-
CRUNCH.
Erwin's wide eyed as he now sits on the floor, the desk now cracked into two pieces with him in the middle of it. It'd be funny, it really would, if it were anyone else's but his desk. The Commander looks honestly baffled as he looks at the current unexplainable predicament he's found himself in. Levi silently swallows and hurryingly thinks up the first excuse he can pull out of his ass.
...ass. He points at the blonde.
"Your ass fucking broke my desk."
Erwin blinks before looking back down at the broken wood pile he sits on, chuckle leaving his throat. "I do really do guess Mitras quality still isn't worth much, huh? Overpriced yet completely unstable. Just like the lot of them."
"Your ass broke my fucking desk."
"Yeah - I - I guess it did..."
When he stands up he brushes himself off, looking at the damage that Levi swallows and tries not to think on the truth on actually why it broke - Erwin's ass was just the damn straw that broke the titan's back or whatever the saying goes. He didn't even want to think about how much from the budget it'd take to get this shit replaced but Erwin insists on it, saying Mike's folks actually are good craftspeople, they should be able to build an actual stable one instead of expensive dull and weak Sina bought ones. But yet... Levi wasn't sure on the truth of how weak it was since he fucked your guts out on it... but of course he couldn't just voice that part out loud. So he just quietly nods his head and agrees.
From that point afterwards he swear to you no more desk fucking.... for a good couple weeks then he finds you two at it again - however, Erwin was right, the new desk from Mike's family was very stable, very strong, very capable of withstanding a good dicking between you two.
Let's just hope it doesn't need to get replaced any time soon.
Hanji Zoë
Quite literally will jump at the chance to. Like you could be at the side of their desk, pointing over and drawn together diagrams and other research papers as they sit in their chair with their eyes wide staring at you not paying attention to a single thing you're saying - it's rude, they know, but it's so damn hard when you're so attractive! You don't notice their staring, you keep on talking business and adding your thoughts and commentary about certain test results on the latest experiments done on the two captured titans behind base: Jimmy and Stanley, as Hanji has named them - you only stop talking and look over when you process how quiet they've become, a very unusual thing for your lover, and your about to question what's wrong or if something about the results is troubling to them before they immediately have their hand on your face, cupped between their palm, as pull you down to kiss them.
Titans are quite literally the farthest thing on their mind as they push everything - every single thing, from the research notes you were just going over, to other important pieces of paper, to the junk nit-nacks they've hoarded on their messy desk - all onto the floor as the jolt and push back their chair to stand and pick you up to set you down on the surface and yank off your boots and pants.
They kiss all over your legs, nipping and biting and sinking in your touch as your fingers find the back of their brunette head to encourage their actions. Their breath is so warm against your underwear as they proceed to kiss through the material - getting an approving hum from you - before tantalizingly pluck their fingers in the band to begin to pull them down your legs, revealing your aching-with-need sex to them. But they don't touch you where you want right away, you're going to have to earn it by begging. They remind you of that while tracing their tongue over the worn marks of ODM straps on your thighs then biting at them, deep in the flesh.
Once you've begged enough to their liking do they finally touch you, and they're so good with their fingers, giving you a nice good prep before replacing it with their just as good tongue they devour your sex with. Then with their unoccupied hands they reach and grab around your hips so you can't squirm away from them as they are crouched down at the foot of that desk and go to town with you in their mouth like there's no tomorrow.
Your come stains their face when they finally pull away gasping for air - hadn't pulled away a single time since they started. They smile big at you, with their hands on your hips they scoot you in closer and with a rough sudden movement rocks the desk where you falling slightly forward so they can kiss you, making damn sure you taste yourself on their lips.
You're both on top the desk now. Hanji's - their lower half completely bare - straddled one of your legs as your rearranged as much as you can on the surface space to tangle them together and they have you slightly pushed back to where both your sexes can kiss and grind against each other. With obnoxious squeaks you fuck each other on it like animals.
They talk to you in punched out whispers, their chest - fully exposed as you've ripped open their shirt and tugged off the bandaged to reveal their breasts from underneath and bounce with each movement to two of you make. They also have their glasses pushed up and rest on the top of their head, they bounce with each movement too.
"You like this? You like taking my pussy like this? Naughty little thing... you know, I've noticed you bending over or sitting my desk with your legs open tons of times. Did you want this? But to embarrassed to ask? Huh?"
They get so domineering worked up like this you feel too high to even speak, you nod before your pulling in to more kisses as they completely fuck you further sending you closer and closer to the edge until your light headed and your whole body is numb, you fall back with your bones turned to jelly until everything sudden tightens again and the numbness fazes into hyperawareness when that snap in your gut happens and your practically sob with your release.
When your both done you two keep sitting on there for awhile, you're not even sure how long but Hanji rests into you with a wide smile on their face and half asleep in the crook of your neck but they lazily keep you sitting up and not to fall off onto the floor. It's nice, really nice, your hands stumble as you go to pet at your lover's hair and further relax into them.
But your afterglow safe haven doesn't last long as there's a sudden banging on the office door.
"Squad Leader! Stanley just bit a Cadet's arm off!" Uh oh.
Hanji's eyes go wide and whatever sleep was present in them before completely evaporates as they pull themselves off you. Panic sets it.
"Shit!" They curse and hop off the desk to go immediately pull their clothes sloppily and haphazardly back on - their pants are on backwards. They turn back to you.
"Give me like - uh - twenty minutes! Be right back!"
Incidents like this if word travels fast enough could be used as ammunition against the Corps, not to mention the poor kid...
They give you one last kiss before quickly rushing out the door, slamming poor Moblit in the face with it without realizing it as the shoot down the hall.
"STANLEY!!!"
They sob in a way like a parent just lost their child, which in a weird way they kind of did, they really did like that one... and it's nape's probably already been split open by now.
You should probably get dressed and join them, comfort their 'mourning'... if your legs can unjelly that is.
Erwin Smith
Erwin Smith is the biggest workaholic you've ever met. He spends 80% of his time glued at that damn desk and he can be very stubborn about it so it can take quite a lot to pull him away from it... though, maybe with some slight convincing...
He'll remain focused, neatly writing down his formal documentations to be sent to the capitol along with other important matters gathering his attention, even when you're behind him with your arms around his shoulders and kissing along his neck begging him to take a break as he's been in at one spot for around twelve hours straight. It won't be easy getting him away from work, he'll reassure how important his current business is and will blab on and on about all the detailed variables but honestly you could care less when he looks like he could fall over from overworking himself to death. He at least needed a damn break and you know how you could provide.
Did I mention how stubborn this man is? He won't break, even if you maneuver around in front of him and the desk as he sits there with you dropped on your knees... but he won't exactly say no, so that's start. He'll continue to work, even as you work to start pulling and undoing his belt, he'll continue jotting down on whatever he's working on but he won't stop you - hell he won't even give you any input as the sounds sounds in the office are the jingling of his belt and zipper being undone and the scribbles of pen on paper.
"Do you think Zackley would approve if I were to ask for more horses? It's best we have extra for Expeditions and I think it'd be best if each squad were to bring a couple extra in case one of their horses gets killed on the field."
He asks you, you having his cock buried deep down your throat. Casual - no, business causal in that way Erwin tends to do... but the obscurity for him to ask you about supply horses... you nearly choke because of it and surprisingly Erwin's hand finds to the back of your head to ease and balance your head out but he doesn't completely pull you off if it, as if he's come to terms with the whole situation but still he doesn't pull himself from work. It's clear you're going to easy on him. You will make him take a break from work.
You suck, swallow, take everything he has. Your hands grip tight at his hips as you your your face on his dick in steady but frequent rhythm that does get his hips to slightly buck forward every once in a while but he always comes to pet at your head in apologies if he accidentally put you in discomfort in any way and he carries on - the scribbling on the desk up behind you becoming more grading by the second.
However, there's one ray of hope... his balls.
Erwin will immediately jump in his chair and drop his pen - ink undoubtedly spilling and staining important documents the moment your mouth pulls off his cock entirely and replace it with his balls in your mouth. Play with them. Suck them. Fucking bite them. Anything. Now you have his attention and will earn a loud guttural groan from out his lips that seals the deal you've just locked in your mission success.
He sits completely back in his chair - whatever business details he was going over completely disappear in the back of his mind as both of his large hands find themselves in your head and he vocally encourages you to keep going. His cock will drip pre all over your face as you rest just below it rolling your tongue over his sack and he'll throb so needily for you.
It's then becomes so easy to get lost in everything that you don't even realize you're being pushed back further underneath the desk until Erwin's chair suddenly scoots up to sit up to it proper.
"I got these." Mike.
Mike had walked in and you can hear - and slightly flinch at the loud sound of - a stack of papers being dropped above you on the desktop. You sit there on your knees, slightly uncomfortable at the crowded position underneath the desk, your mouth still attached to Erwin's crouch - but you don't pull away, just look up as much as you can to see your lover manage to keep up sudden appearances to his cadethood friend as best he can... strangely hot in a weird way. And Mike Zacharias was no idiot.
"You feelin' okay?"
"Yes, why wouldn't I be? Though, I do suppose I have quite the workload. I should finish soon."
Mike hums in response but you can't see his face, if you could you feel like it'd be more telling and revealing so, to save from embarrassment it's probably for the best.
Then the bastard sniffs and it sends fifty layers of fear and panic through your spine.
Silence.
"Hanji's holding a card game in their office, there's gonna be booze. I'll expect you not to work yourself to death and come. Bring (Name) too if you want. If you can find them, their squad has been looking for 'em for the past half hour."
Subtly, underneath the desk the Commander feels at your head with an affirming pat. "Will do, see you then, Mike."
You then carefully listen to the boots creak on the floor, you count up sixteen steps before the door opens and clicks close behind. Another beat passes in silence before suddenly the hand on your head tightens it's grip and pulls you forward as the Commander's chair scoots back and away from the desk before he makes your head tilt back and does he look down at you proper for the first time since the encounter started.
"Well," He addresses, voice low and dangerously smooth. "-looks like I'm done with my work, hm? You got what you wanted, you must be so proud."
"Erwin-"
"Pants off. On the desk. Legs spread. That's an order, (Surname)." He says with a crooked smile, the dirty one, the one that sometimes comes out during the most inappropriate of times. That one.
Well, it's your Commander's orders. You yourself grin as you get up to your feet. Who were you not to follow?
It's only a little bit awkward an hour later when the two of you finally step in Hanji's office (pigsty, as Levi calls it) cleaned up the best you could but still the two of you had that 'messed around' aura but no one really seems to question as Hanji jokes it's about time you two showed up before going on a tirade swearing up and down Mike's cheating - he simply raises his nose swearing he's not - before you sit down at the crowded trouble where Levi rolls his eyes and passes out cards for you both, muttering something under his breath you don't quite catch but Mike kicks him under the table for it, causing him to kick harder in return.
It's fun, having little moments of small non battle camaraderie like this, for just a small amount of time all of you get to not think about titans, the Walls, and certain death for once. It's especially nice looking over to Erwin, who is now enthralled in the card game and is a very deceptive cheat to the unexpected opponent and takes plenty of risky gambles as he's known to do - a good amount of people around this table can read him and no when he's lying but it is still rather difficult, his poker face is damn well good and practiced - but even still it's obvious he's having fun and is finally not focused to death on his work which makes you happy. Even if you should've definitely won that last hand.
If you like what you read please consider reblogging! It means the world for writers and artists!
#attack on titan#attack on titan x reader#levi ackerman#levi ackerman x reader#levi x reader#hange zoe#hange zoë#hange zoe x reader#hange zoë x reader#hanji zoe#hanji zoë x reader#erwin smith#erwin x reader#levi#hange#hanji#erwin#attack on titan smut#attack on titan headcanons#mine#n.sfw#sin content
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Tandem (Levi x Reader)
Synopsis: The two of you work together seamlessly. Your clear intimacy was usually left unspoken... that is, until Eren asks the stupid question.
Word Count: 2.8k
Tags/Warnings: Language, Fluff, No Reader Pronouns
Notes: I think it’s funny that my last Levi fic was about Levi and reader like... hating each other hahaha. I guess I simply must bring balance
“Do you have the—”
“Right here.”
Watching the two of you in action was fascinating.
Levi tossed you a canister from over his shoulder. The metal container flipped through the air, nearly smacking Eren directly in the face. He ducked just in time. The canister landed perfectly into your outstretched hand. You didn’t even look up from the crate of supplies you were tending to. Eren sputtered.
“Hey, watch it! You almost hit me!”
“Don’t be in the way.” You spoke the command in unison. Neither you nor Levi missed a beat. Eren caught a mutual eye roll as you and Levi continued to organize the new cargo shipment.
You secured a thick wooden lid onto your crate and made a tick on your clipboard. You maneuvered out of the way just in time for Levi to heave over an equally massive wooden box. He stacked it on top of yours.
“Tell me that’s all of it,” Levi grumbled, placing a familiar touch on your shoulder as he peered over your amassment of papers. You flipped the pages with a solemn shake of your head.
“Between what we brought back from the expedition and the disaster that was this last shipment, I’d say we’re done with barely half.”
“Fucking hell…”
Immediately after expeditions, your leftover supplies would be checked and consolidated into storage to prepare for the next outing and regular patrols. That had always been an undertaking and typically took the whole night. But when you were away, a new shipment of supplies had come early. A disorganized mess of various crates and trunks, Commander Erwin nearly hit the roof before he stormed over to the supplier’s office to complain.
The company had apparently shifted management, and the new owner thought he could cut corners. At least, that’s what you guessed.
Levi slowly turned to Eren as you made a few frustrated scribbles in your notes. The crease in his brow deepened, and a vein above his eye twitched.
“What are you doing just standing around, Jaeger?” Levi stepped forward, gesturing to the chaos of stacked and scattered materials across the room. “You think these big-ass boxes will grow legs and walk to storage by themselves?”
“Section Commander Zacharius sent us in here to help. He’s finishing up outside.” A bead of sweat formed on Eren’s temple. Levi stared wordlessly, scowling. “Sir!”
“You can help Jean,” you said, glancing up from your attempt at an organization sheet. You gestured over to where Jean knelt by a mountain of wooden crates. Heavy pouches and metal parts poured out of the sprawling containers. “He’ll need all the help he can get separating the flour sacks from the deconstructed ODM gear.”
Jean met Eren’s eye, exhausted and annoyed at the prospect of working with Eren on top of his menial task. Mikasa carried three boxes stacked on top of each other somewhere in the background.
The entire regiment worked into the night. Empty crates were slapped with proper labels, refilled with the correct material, and sent to storage. The rate at which you and Levi put together a plan was astounding, and you quickly ordered your exhausted soldiers around in teams to get the job done.
Jean and Eren worked to separate the flour sacks from the gear, moving gingerly to avoid crushing anything. Some bags were broken. Eren blew white particles off of a grip and onto Jean’s slacks. Jean scowled but was too tired to complain. The two of them took to sorting out the pieces of gear quietly, Jean placing the parts in their respective bins as Eren sifted through the mess of metal and wires. He was left with a small box of screws at the end of his work.
“Um, do we have a box for screws?”
“Screws?” Jean repeated, glancing over the closed crates. “No?”
Eren shrugged and put them in his pocket.
You and Levi continued to work seamlessly together, racing throughout the room and ensuring everything was sorted. You passed your clipboard back and forth as you elapsed each other. Eren could hardly see the handoff. He chased after you after he closed the last crate of flour.
“Section Commander!” you turned with a stack of random materials in your arms. The soldiers from your squads gathered around you, deliberating with each other over the orientation of the storage. “Jean and I finished. Where else can I be of assistance?” You handed your supplies to one of your team leaders, giving instructions before returning to Eren.
“Captain Levi has the list,” you said, moving another set of boxes down to the floor. Your team took to opening them. You looked down and groaned at the sight, running a hand over your face. Inside, the supplier had packaged together explosives and yeast. “What a mess.”
Eren ran off to find Levi, who stood in the courtyard supervising the organization of horse feed. Levi gave two firm slaps to a neat assembly of boxes as he addressed a group of six. The compilation had been mislabeled as “bread grains.”
“You’ll take these to the stables. You hear me? The stables. If I see a lick of this shit in the kitchen, you’ll eat horse food for the rest of your life.” Eren approached him cautiously, offering him a salute.
“Sir! How can I be of assistance?” Levi huffed, blowing a tuff of his bangs away from his forehead.
“I just gave the list back. Go ask the Section Commander.”
“Uh…” Eren croaked, having just spoken to you. “Well, I just spoke to—”
“Eren!” Armin appeared in the doorway out to the courtyard with a wave. The torchlight made his blond hair shine even more golden. “We need your help with the swords!”
“There you go,” Levi snorted, gesturing down the hall where Armin disappeared. He bumped Eren’s shoulder as he passed.
Luckily, things were beginning to wrap up by the time Eren nearly dropped from exhaustion. After the swords came lentils mixed with the smoke-gun pellets and then the tangled ODM wires. You and Levi were powering on at the same pace you had been for the night— perhaps even more rigorously— but Eren could see the burnout on your faces. A rule of thumb whispered among the cadets dictated that the two of you appeared visibly grumpier with tiredness, not that anyone would dare tell you that.
Levi maneuvered around you, snatching something you offered wordlessly in your hand. He sent off the last of the cargo boxes with a small team of drained recruits, and as he turned to you, he didn’t have to say a thing before you tossed the clipboard to him. He caught it like a frisbee.
“That’ll do it,” you announced. Your voice echoed off the stone walls of the now-empty room. “Thank you, everyone, for your hard work. I’m sure you’re very tired. Dismissed!”
Eren breathed a sigh of relief as you marched out of the room. He quickly took his leave, filing out with the rest of his friends as they trudged back to the barracks in exhaustion. No one said a word as they crossed through the courtyard, too drained from the expedition and the organization disaster to say anything.
Eren stuck his hand in his pocket, stopping short when he felt the small box of screws he had put in there earlier. Armin shot him a worried look as he started back toward the packaging room, too fatigued to ask where he was going. Eren said nothing, jogging back so he could return as quickly as possible.
You and Levi sat on the stone floor, back to back, as he read over the materials list. Your head tilted back to rest on his shoulder. He did the same, his short hairs brushing against your cheek. Two cups of tea sat on the floor next to you. That must be where you went when you dismissed everyone.
“The twenty units of ODM wire—”
“Southwestern storage with the grips,” you yawned. You closed your eyes, letting yourself slouch back into Levi. He said nothing as you nuzzled into the shoulder of his jacket.
“Updated uniforms and linens—”
“Forth floor. They need to be organized, but they can be distributed soon.”
“Great. Like we haven’t had enough of that tonight.”
Eren stood frozen in the entryway. He clutched the box of screws in his hand, stepping off to the side to avoid being seen. Something inside told him that he shouldn’t be there, that the scene in front of him was too intimate for his prying eyes. He watched on anyways, wondering if he should just wait until tomorrow.
You finished your tea, placing it on the ground with a disappointed hum. You reached for Levi’s and took it in the pads of your fingers. Levi brushed his cheek against your hair and tilted his face to look at you. He didn’t get very far with your head in the way.
“Excuse you,” he frowned. “You have your own.”
“Finished mine,” you muttered, half asleep. Levi shook his head before returning to read the rest of the list. He flipped a page.
At that display, Eren decided that he could definitely wait until the next day. Stealthily, he returned to the little, lit hallway to take his leave.
That was until the little box of screws clattered to the floor. The sound reverberated off the stone, causing both you and Levi to turn to the noise. You sat up straight with eyes snapped open with alertness. Eren cringed, picking up the box, and with no choice, he revealed himself.
“The hell are you doing up?” Levi snapped with a deep scowl. “You were just dismissed. Or do you want more work?” Eren almost flinched.
“I forgot about this.” He held up the forgotten cargo, giving it a rattle. You yawned again, a strangled noise of affirmation escaping you.
“Oh, thank you, Jaeger. You can leave that with me.” Eren scampered across the room to your outstretched hand. It dropped with the weight of the tiny container. With a simple thanks, you once again sent him on his way.
***
“Do you think the Section Commanders are, you know, together?” Eren asked in a hushed tone at the dinner table the next day. Armin’s forehead wrinkled in thought.
“Which ones?”
“Yours and Captain Levi.” Eren played absentmindedly with the leftover stew on his plate. The entire table seemed to stiffen. A few nervous eyes glanced around the mess hall for any leadership within the radius to overhear. Eren hardly noticed the way the former members of the 104th seemed to lean forward.
“I think they’re all together,” Reiner finally spoke, eyes darting around the room again.
“What? You mean like all at once?” Bertholdt laughed nervously, swiveling his head as he spoke. He rubbed at the back of his neck with his large palm.
“Yeah!” Reiner exclaimed in a hushed tone. The table leaned closer. He gestured emphatically with his hands. “I mean, you’re in this line of work. Everyone’s ripped and sexy—”
Connie let out a roaring cackle.
“You did not just refer to Captain Levi as ripped and sexy!”
Reiner sputtered as cheeky grins and bouts of laughter spread across the group. Reiner clutched the edge of the table as his pale skin turned a bright shade of red.
“You know that’s not what I meant!” he stammered, just about standing up to slam his hand on the table, causing various utensils to clatter. The noise was not too out of the ordinary for the cafeteria. “That’s not what I meant! I meant my squad leader!” Connie propped an elbow on the table, counting his fingers to accent his words.
“Section Commander Levi: ripped and sexy. Section Commander Miche: ripped and sexy. Section Commander Hange—” Reiner slapped Connie’s hand from across the table, causing Connie to just about go into hysterics. He collapsed into Sasha’s shoulder. Bertholdt tugged the back of Reiner’s shirt, urging him to sit back down.
“That is the opposite of what I meant!”
“You said everyone, Reiner!” Connie had nearly burst into tears. He heaved between labored breaths. “What— what if they…! What if they made— Hahaha! A calendar?! What if they made one of those sexy calendars?!” His deranged delirium was contagious, the taboo notion enough to make Mikasa cover her face with a shake of her head. She continued small bites of her food.
“Shirtless Levi calendar just for you, Reiner.” He stood at a loss as Jean reached up to knock against his bicep. Reiner sat down in defeat, hands rubbing over his face as Bertholdt gave him a heavy-handed pat.
“What made you ask, Eren?” Christa’s gentle voice somehow made it down to the other side of the table. He craned to be able to see her before looking off, wondering if he should say anything. He didn’t think for long, if at all.
“I walked in on them last night—” An eruption of astonished gasps and cries cut him off—a jumbled chorus of sounds molded over each other.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute!”
Sasha’s voice carried over everyone else’s.
“Levi and Reiner?!” She exclaimed. Reiner somehow grew redder.
“Of course not!”
“No, he means our captain and Levi, right Eren?” Armin clarified, and Eren nodded.
“When you say walked in on them—” Jean glanced around the room, eyes widening with emphasis. “Did you mean walked in on?”
“No, no,” Eren stuttered, running a hand through his scalp as he thought of describing what he saw. “I’d say they were more cuddling.”
“Cuddling,” Reiner repeated with a single downward nod. He crossed his arms over his chest as he squared his shoulders back. “You walked in on the squad leaders… cuddling.”
“Well, they weren’t really cuddling. They were sitting back-to-back against each other more… nuzzling. And sharing a cup of tea.” Eren trailed off, face contorted in a pained expression as he continued to play with his hair. Armin nudged him under the table, barely picking up his head to offer him the contrite look painted on his expression.
“Eren…”
“I think it’s kinda romantic!” Christa brushed a few hairs behind her ear. “Two soldiers fighting for their lives with no one to lean on but each other! I could see them together. Maybe Captain Levi would loosen up a bit if he was dating.” Ymir grumbled something incoherent.
“I think we’ve all been in a room where Captain Levi’s shared a cup of tea with all the leadership.” Reiner glanced around the table, unimpressed. “Is that supposed to be a euphemism or something?”
“It was the same cup!”
“Things sure are lively over here.” Everyone froze. “What are we talking about?”
You placed a warm hand on his shoulder. Eren’s eyes followed the length of your sleeve to your smiling face. You glanced over the group, slightly taken aback at the sudden silence. Levi came up to Eren’s left with crossed arms.
“We heard from everyone coming the other way that you couldn’t shut up, and now you decide to be quiet?” Connie met Reiner’s eye from across the table.
“The calendar,” he mouthed, and Reiner resisted the urge to throw a spoon at him.
“We were just talking about Sasha’s dating life!” Eren exclaimed, much to Sasha’s horror. You beamed.
“Oh, how fun!” Levi rolled his eyes, maneuvering around you.
“I’m grabbing food. You want the usual?” He leaned in slightly, a gentle touch on your back. The table watched with bated breath. You smiled and nodded.
“Yes, please!” With your confirmation, he left. You turned back to the table, your hand still on the back of Eren’s chair. “Dating! That’s so exciting! You have to tell me!” The group exchanged looks. Normally, they would tell you. That is if there was anything to tell.
“Are you dating, Section Commander?” Sasha quirked an eyebrow, hoping to turn the heat onto someone else.
“Oh, uh—” You stuttered, thrown off at the sudden question. You could feel the heat of their intense stares. —“No, not really.” You let out a nervous laugh. Surely you were missing something. You missed the silent eye contact Eren made with Armin.
“Not really?” Eren repeated, twisting his mug in his hands as he stared at his water. Reiner studied him, wondering that perhaps Eren had been onto something after all. Mikasa kicked Eren under the table. He flinched, composing himself just before Levi returned with your food.
“You guys are sure acting strange tonight.” Bertholdt refused to look you in the eye. You let out another nervous chuckle before taking your plate from Levi with thanks.
“They ran out of the rolls, but I got you the—”
“The baguette?” Your face lit up at the sight of the tiny baguette on the corner of your plate. You faced Levi with a grin. “Have I ever told you that you were the best?”
“Sure, sure.” He didn’t acknowledge the rest of the 104th as he stormed toward the exit. You offered them a wave goodbye.
“Sorry, we can’t stick around. I’ll see you all later! Good luck, Sasha!” With one last wave, you hurried after Levi and left together.
As soon as you were well down the hallway, the table erupted in debate.
Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.
Notes: Ah, I love writing young Eren as the stupid little baby he is 🙏 Heavily channeling Bluey “do you have a wife?”
#levi x reader#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman fanfic#levi ackerman#attack on titan fanfic#attack on titan x reader#levi ackerman reader insert#levi#levi fanfic#shingeki no kyoujin x reader#shingeki no kyoujin#x you#x reader#reader insert
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a/n: a teensy little ficlet for my lils wife @gimmeurtmi's birthday!!! i hope you have the absolute best day and weekend my love i am hugging you and kissing your head <3<3<3
it’s your birthday - you expect to be looked after, waited on hand and foot, treated like a goddess sent from the heavens. and you are, for the most part; seungmin tends to not do anything without a small complaint though, so your home-cooked breakfast was served to you with an exaggerated sigh, your nails were painted perfectly with a roll of his eyes, and he covered the both of you in a blanket so that the two of you could cuddle together while you watch your favorite movie with a fond shake of his head.
little acts of service accompanied by snark, as if he couldn’t catch himself loving you, or something. it’s okay, because you know that he does - the ring he put on your finger a few months ago has it engraved on the inside of the band, and it’s not like he can take back the sweet things he said to you when he was on one knee now.
and as such, with the way the day has gone you fully expect you to be taken to bed at night, laid down on the pillows and allowed to be a princess while he ravished your body with his hands and mouth. perhaps a small comment about how desperate you were, how wet he was making you, or something along those lines.
he had other plans though, evidenced by the way he pushes you to your knees near the foot of the bed after he walks you into the bedroom instead of coaxing you into the sheets.
“is my pretty girl ready for her dessert?” he asks, sliding a hand into your hair and scratching at your scalp, leaving you a bit overwhelmed. his hand sends zings of pleasure running through you, and you barely notice the hardness of the floor under your knees in favor of focusing on the way your head spins and your mouth begins to water.
this was seungmin, after all. if you had learned anything about him in the years you’ve been together, it’s that you can’t really ever prepare for him - he was always going to catch you off guard, and you loved it.
he unzips his pants slowly, each tiny metallic sound matching the drumbeat of your heart as he finally frees himself from his boxers and strokes his half-hard cock. his other hand leaves your head, resting just under your chin so he could thumb at your bottom lip.
“can you get wet for me?” he asks, the most polite thing he’s said all day to you. you know he means your mouth, and you let your spit pool up in it, but you can’t help the way you begin to leak into your underwear too. he feeds you his cock centimeter by centimeter, letting you suckle on the top of it before sliding in until he reaches the back of your mouth - not enough to make you gag, but it’s a close thing. he knows your body in and out though, knows exactly how much is teetering on the edge of too much.
“slow,” he instructs, a little breathless as you start to hollow your cheeks around him. “you want to savor your dessert right? this is a special occasion, after all.”
you groan and your eyes flutter shut, and you let the weight of him rest on your tongue. his hands weave back into your hair, holding you in place as he thrusts shallowly in and out of your mouth. you let him have his moment for a minute, sinking into a floaty haze, but it’s not enough.
it’s your birthday, and if you want to suck his goddamn cock then you will.
your eyes snap open as you begin to suck on him in fervor, a bit messy and wet but you know he likes it like that. you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock before swallowing him down, pulling noises out of him that he rarely lets out unless he’s caught off guard. you pull out every move, the dirtiest licks and flicks of your tongue accompanied by you humming around his length, and you know when he gets close by the way his knees buckle a bit and his hands tighten in your hair.
he pulls you off of him with a hiss, panting as he he strokes himself off over you. his free hand cups your face and holds you right where he wants you, chin up so you're staring right into his eyes. you can see the pleasure take over his face and he whispers happy birthday, baby just as the splashes of his release coat your eyelids, the curve of your mouth, the bridge of your nose.
you’re both breathing hard as he calms down, removing his pants before helping you up your feet. he sets you onto the bed and kneads at your thighs with his big hands, leaning in to kiss you without a care in the world towards his come on your face.
“you had your dessert,” he dances his fingertips into the waistband of your shorts, toying at the lacy material of your underwear. “now it’s time for mine.”
–
“i know you said that you were my dessert,” you yawn, much later, pushing your face further into his chest that you had repurposed as a pillow. “but you did get me a cake, right?”
#stray kids smut#skz smut#stray kids imagines#stray kids drabbles#seungmin imagines#seungmin smut#kim seungmin smut#kim seungmin imagines
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anyway, here's gortash.
characters.... enver gortash. cmon now
content warning. gore mention? kinda? its not detailed. dark urge reader. they're in the middle of a long fuck sesh but its not that nsfw except gortash is fucking hard and it'll take talking about thorm to make him go soft.
The sound of Baldur's Gate's people going about their day always managed to steal through the windows, even with the thick curtains darkening the room. So many individuals walking around, haggling, buying, working, crying, loving, living.
So many beings. So much blood to spill, till the cracks in the cobblestones were stained red, never to be washed away.
Between your thighs, Gortash gives a low hum of contentment, looking up at you with his intensely dark eyes glinting in the low candle light.
"Thought about something you like, did you?" He murmurs, dragging his thumb over his slick covered lips, spit and precum gathering on his finger just to be tucked into his mouth to be sucked clean.
"Maybe," You muse with a smile, adjusting the way your leg lay over his shoulder and along his spine. "Maybe I enjoy you being on your belly for me."
Enver chuckled, low and amused. His reputation meant that he was held in high respect, and to tell him to take a knee to anyone other than maybe the Duke, was absurd. But here he was, on his stomach in his bed, with luxurious sheets, naked as the day he was born, with his face nestled between your thighs. You'd have considered this a victory, if it wasn't that he gave this freely to you. Gortash was the one who greedily hooked your legs over his shoulders, the one who always needed a hand against your back or cupping your elbow, no matter the looks he got from Thorm, or servants around his manor.
It was... Cute.
He licked his lips again, before slowly nosing over your pubic bone, up, over your stomach. Dropping kisses to the naked skin, he didn't stop till you felt his teeth against your throat, beginning to suck and bite away.
Now, this? This was adorable.
The only way for your lover to hurt you, the weapon your father favoured above all other, was to attack you with kisses and bites, till your neck bloomed with love marks and bruises. You had slaughtered so many in your father's name, and there was countless ways to gut Enver as he tended to your throat, but he could never.
What was clear to you, but maybe clouded to him, that he would never be able to bring harm to you. His hands weren't clean of blood, and the sulfur of the hells always stuck to his skin, as one's past often does, but you had no doubt that if the time ever came where he wanted the Brain all to himself, you'd fell him easily.
You gave another low sigh of pleasure and Enver answered with one of his own, finally abandoning his need to mark up the one person who'd never fully give themselves to him, not in the way he craved. But at least the love marks were pretty. Instead he kissed you deeply, his lean forearms caging you in.
His cock was hard again, dragging over your slick thighs as he lost himself in the taste of your mouth, something sweet and something metallic along your tongue giving him a head rush.
"Again?" You murmured against his lips, your tone inquisitive as you felt his heartbeat pick up.
"How could I ever show restraint towards you?" Gortash pulled away, his dark hair falling into his face. Despite spending most of the morning in bed, with the initial meeting he called fully abandoned, he had already spent three rounds with you on his cock, and when you weren't milking him for all he was worth, he was worshipping you. Between your thighs, with his fingers deep inside of you, demanding more orgasms from you than he had. According to the whores around town, he was a selfish lover, so you were surprised when you two first shared a private room. He had you against the desk, demanding you to cum twice before he even thought about pressing into you.
"Hmm," You mulled his words over, dragging your fingers over his chest, enjoying the hammering of his heart. "Might be wise. Thorm looked repulsed at our last meeting when you mentioned that red was definitely my color."
Gortash snorted softly, leaning back so he was on his knees yet still towered over your body.
"Hard to believe he had a wife, given his disgust towards any romantic intent shown."
"I doubt it's romantic intent he hates." You laughed softly as he curled his fingers under your ankle and brought it to his lips to press a kiss to the skin. "I bet he was a big old romantic, given his plans for the future. But coming from you? No doubt he nearly had a heart attack, if he could still have one."
"You wound me." Enver murmured, contiuing to kiss up your shin, till he got to your knee, when he ran his nose over the side of it. "I'm quite the romantic I'll have you know."
"More like a roguish flirt." You smirked at his short, bark of a laugh.
As his chuckles died down, he didn't resume his exploration of your body with his lips, which surprised you. He was usually so dogged in his chases. Instead of lust in his eyes, it was clouded with something else, despite the way his cock remained hard, jutting against his stomach with precum still slowly leaking against his skin. Something vulnerable, something scorching.
It was as if you had taken your favourite blade and sliced open his chest to admire the way his heart thumped amongst the gore. You waited, intrigued to see how long he dared to give you such a soft look, as if you weren't brought up with nothing but hard edges and burning brands. You wondered what you'd do, if he bared his heart to you willingly. Would you kiss the ruined organ? Embrace the stench of sulfur and rot and lick over it, or would you dig your nails into it, ripping it asunder and watch him twitch and scream? It worried you a bit that you didn't immediately settle on ruining him if he dared to whisper heartfelt confessions over his murmured lusts and desires.
Maybe he remembered what you were, a foul child of Bhaal. Maybe he saw the way your eyes flickered. Maybe he remembered how hard his cock was and craved to feel your insides around him once more before you killed him for a sickly love confession.
So, while the softness of his eyes didn't leave, a dirty heat clouded them.
"Now, let's abandon all this talk of Ketheric, lest I go soft. Instead, can I recommend we see how much I can make you scream before the servants get worried."
You awoke with a low hiss of pleasure, the luxurious surroundings of your lover disappearing for the chilled wilderness of your camp. It was dark, too dark, so you doubted anyone other than you were up, except maybe for Astarion.
Slowly sitting up, you raised your fingers to your neck, feeling as if the bites still lingered there, fresh and raw. You were unsettled. More unsettled than when your first dream visitor started appearing, more than waking up with Alfira's blood under your nails.
You were privy to what felt like someone else's life, rife with blood and gore and the feeling of someone's hot tongue pressing into you. It was calling to you, as if you were being offered this path again, to come back and take your proper place.
It wouldn't do to wonder about if this past lover dreamed of you like you did of him. You had things to do, memories to recover... Someone to look after.
Little did you know that Nautiloid Ship ride away, Gortash lay in his own bed, idly dragging his fingers over the pillow next to his. He felt foul. Orin's flirations were usually dredged in promises to gut him, to spill his blood till she could bathe in it. It usually left him feeling disgusted, but today it left him feeling nostalgic.
You weren't like Orin, despite having the same Bhaalspawn blood running through your veins. Your flirations were more subtle. Teasing. Flashing the dog a bone only to hide it away, and smirk as it sniffed hopefully at you. She was nothing compared to you.
With a low exhale, Gortash once more began to ruminate on where you were. Why you let Orin take over. What she had done to you.
And what must be done to get you back. No matter how much blood would be spilt, throats slit, lives lost, he knew that none of the dreams he had would cease until you were back at his side.
#nsft#quincewrites#enver gortash#gortash#gortash x durge#gortash bg3#dark urge#bg3 dark urge#anyway here's wonderwall#ehe#okay im going to bed since my first masters class is tomorrow#wish me luck lads
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i'll be needing stitches | din djarin
Summary | The Mandalorian has never had someone else tend to his wounds.
Pairing | Din Djarin x F!Reader
Word Count | 2.1k
Warnings | Future chapters will include smut, but this one involves mentions of injuries, a dead bounty, explicit descriptions of an untrained professional stitching someone up, blood, some explicit thoughts and some yearning.
Authors Note | My favourite tin can man is back and ready for business. I am having such a wonderful time imagining all the things Din has never experienced before and the idea that he has only ever been the one to patch himself up was more than I could cope with. As always, comments, reblogs and freaking out in my ask box are all welcome and if you enjoyed this, please consider supporting me with a donation to my Ko-Fi.
I no longer use taglists - please follow @thetriumpantpandanotifs and turn on notifications to know when I upload fics.
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi
He’d been gone a few days. That was nothing new. Off hunting his next bounty, leaving you in charge of child. You didn’t mind it, once you’d gotten used to the fact that you couldn’t really reason with him, and that you’d be tired from constantly keeping an eye on him, he was actually pretty decent company.
You’re fussing with him, trying to get him to go down for some rest when the Crest doors open and there’s the sound of a body hitting the floor. That’s nothing out of the ordinary, so you don’t rush to see what’s happening. What is out of the ordinary is the sound of metal crashing to the floor right after it.
You whip around, looking at the scene before you. There’s a dead bounty on the ground, being kept company by Mando, who is crumpled on the floor in his armour, a pool of blood seeping out from underneath his left leg as he struggles to push himself up.
“Bloody hell,” you exclaim, immediately dropping all worry of the child to drop to your knees next to him, “What the hell happened?!”
He doesn’t respond, just grips at the injured leg, trying to get the bleeding to subside. His trousers are torn and there’s a nasty gash to the skin of his thigh that is about to cause a whole world of problems if you can’t fix it.
With your hand on his shoulder, placed there to let him know you’re near, you whip your head around trying to remember where he keeps the healing equipment. He’s needed it before, but only for minor injuries, and has never needed your help before, but with the way the blood is spreading across the floor, he’s going to need you now.
He feebly lifts a hand, pointing in the direction of his bunk, “Left it…. There.” He struggles to spit out.
“Okay, I’ll fetch it,” your voice is laced with panic, like if you leave him now, he’s going to pass out, or worse, “You’ve gotta promise me you’ll stay with me, okay?” There’s no response, “Mando? You hear me? No sleeping!”
He mumbles something unintelligible under his helmet but at least he’s talking. You let your hand drop, guiding him down to lie on the floor whilst you rush to his bunk, pulling at the haphazard sheets until the first aid box appears at the foot of the bed. You’re back on your knees next to him in no time, and he’s still moving about and groaning as you put your hand on his thigh to get a better look at his wound.
Your fingers tear at the edges of the material, wanting to allow him to keep his modesty but see the extent of the damage. The gash is angry, blood seeping from it with red edges. You tip the top of the box open and root through it. There’s a single bottle of bacta spray, which you pull out, give a little shake and go to take the top off, when his wide palm circles around your wrist to stop you.
“No.”
You let a frustrated growl leave your throat, “Then what, Mando?!” You exclaim, “You’re bleeding out, what am I meant to do?!”
“The thread,” He chokes out, “Just stitch it up.”
You look him straight in the visor, hoping your disapproving look is landing through his beskar. You are not a nurse, if you try and stitch him up you’re only going to make it worse.
“I’m going to make it worse like that,” You insist, “I’ve never stitched anything in my life.”
“Y-yes you have,” he squeezes your wrist, to reassure you, “Y-your tunic.”
“Mando, this is your fucking leg we’re talking about, not my clothes, it’s completely different.”
He pulls on your arm now, dragging your attention to him, craning his helmet as much as he can to look at you, “Do not waste that spray.” He demands, and even when he’s bleeding out on the floor, he commands you, knows that no matter what, he calls the shots - he lets your arm go, pushing you away gently but towards his leg.
You could argue with him that saving him from certain death is not wasting it, but the longer you bicker, the less time you have, so with shaking hands, you put the bacta spray back, and instead find the needle and surgical thread. With shaking hands, you do your best to thread the needle and tie it off at one end, before your hands are grasping at his thigh.
“This is going to suck,” You mutter, because it is, it would suck at the hands of a trained professional, so it’s definitely going to suck at the hands of someone who could barely sew their own clothes together, “I’m sorry.”
You don’t give him enough time to respond, or yourself much time to consider what you’re actually doing, you just push the needle through the skin closest to you and over to the other side, trying not to look up or focus too hard on the sounds he’s making as you drag the needle back and forward through his skin, watching as the skin closes together the further along the wound you pull. Your hands are shaking, and you’re holding your breath, but you don’t seem to be making it worse, which is something you’ll take.
You’re trying your best to concentrate on making the line of stitches as neat and tidy as you can, but all you can really focus on are the sounds that are coming from underneath that helmet of his. Low groans and grunts of pain as you work the needle through his skin, groans and grunts that you can’t help thinking about in another context, like if you weren’t currently trying to stitch him up and instead he had you pinned down and was- okay, no absolutely not.
You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the now incredibly distracting train of thought. Sure, there have been moments when you’d thought about it, though about what kind of lover he would be, mainly only out of curiosity than your own desires. But ever since he took that damn helmet off in the rain and touched your face, you can’t help but wonder what kind of lover he’d be for you.
Whilst he’s led there on the floor, all his trust put in you to patch him up and make him better, make sure he lives, and all you can is wonder what those sounds would be like for you. What the press of his thighs would do to your own when he put himself between your body, or what this specific thigh, gripped in your hand, clenched as you push the needle through once more, would feel like between your legs. Would he guide you through it, with those big hands on your hips, or would he lean back and let you take what you needed? Would he snake that hand down the front of your trousers and help you along, or would he let you do it all yourself?
He’s agitated, and understandably so, it’s been a slow patch up, with you making sure that the scar your sutures will leave is as neat as it possibly can be. As you bend your head to look closely as you tie another knot in the end of the stitches, you realise he will have this for the rest of his life. A permanent mark on his skin, made by someone else sure, but patched up by you. The Mandalorian will always have this reminder of you etched into his skin, even if, for some reason, you cease to exist in his life. It’s primal, the way is makes you feel, that one day, if you’re gone, he’ll have to explain your existence to someone when they ask how he got that scar. You will forever be a piece of him.
He’s gone suspiciously quiet, the pain you were causing him by driving a needle through his damn skin has made way to a dull throb. You reach into the first aid box, pulling out some gauze and tissue. You use the tissue and what little disinfectant there is to clean the sutures and the blood from his skin, before haphazardly taping the gauze over it to try and keep it clean and free from infection.
He pushes himself up on his elbows once you’re done, watching as you clean away your mess. He wants to reach out to you, he wants to touch you, to anchor himself to you and never let go, to thank you, but instead he simply tries to push himself up whilst trying to keep the stitches you just put in him intact. He lets out a pained groan, you whip your head around.
“Maker, help me,” You grumble, dropping the things you were attempting to clean up to rush back to his side, “I just sewed you up and you’re trying to move on your own?” You’re trying to speak in a tone that is authoritative but it doesn’t seem to come out that way, “Can’t you just sit still for a minute?”
“Need to get us out of here,” He mumbles, taking hold of your hand that you’ve offered him, using your body to steady himself as he pulls himself up off the floor, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” You ask, letting him lean on you slightly for support as he hobbled toward the ladder to the cockpit, despite him weighing considerably more than you.
He doesn’t actually respond to your question, once he’s at the cockpit ladder, he seems to not need your help anymore – struggling up the steps, grunting with each movement of his injured leg, so you let him go, turning around to finish cleaning up. As you’re cleaning the blood from the floor, you’re face-to-face with the body of the bounty he’d dropped on the floor. You’d seen him deal with these bounties more than once – normally when they’re talking back and fighting – so this will prove easier than anticipated. The bounty is slight, so dragging it into the carbonite chamber is easy enough. You flip some switches and press a few buttons and in no time the bounty is stuck there, waiting to be handed off whenever Mando gets you back to Nevarro.
It’s not until much later that he reappears. You’ve fed the child, fed yourself, left a ration pack for him, and you’re just killing time, waiting for the child to wear himself out so you can finally let the exhaustion take over your body and sleep. Mando leans himself against the wall, watching you as you fuss over the child.
“Thank you,” His modulated voice hits your ears, “I’ve never had someone to help me like that.”
You look at him – this one doesn’t surprise you, the lone warrior who hasn’t allowed anyone but you to travel with him, of course he’s only ever had himself to stitch up his wounds.
“Well, I don’t know how to drive this damn thing,” You speak, knocking your knuckles against the wall next to you, “So it was pretty important for you not to die,” you wait for him to laugh but he doesn’t, “You’re welcome,” you speak quietly then, “Sorry it was a horrible sewing job.”
He walks towards you now, visible limp but better than you imagine anyone else with a similar injury would walk, sitting down on the bench next to you. He’s so close that you can feel the heat emanating from his body. He sets a gloved hand on your own thigh, squeezing it slightly, making your pulse jump. He has to know, right? He has to know that he has this effect on you? That whenever he touches you, though that isn’t often, it makes your blood boil with want. Does he know that as your hands worked to close his wound earlier all you could think about was what his perfect, meaty thigh would feel like wedged between your own?
He doesn’t move his hand, just lets it rest there, thumb rubbing across the material of your trousers, comforting you, because he’d scared you earlier, he knows he did, and he needs you to know he’s never going to leave you, even if he’s not quite ready to verbalise that to you yet. You let your head drop to his shoulder, closing your eyes as he stays there for you, his body offering you’re the comfort you so desperately need.
“I’m always going to fix you Mando,” you speak quietly, “You’ll never have to stitch yourself up ever again.”
#din djarin#the mandalorian#din djarin fic#din djarin fanfic#din djarin fanfiction#the mandalorian fic#the mandalorian fanfic#the mandalorian fanfiction#din djarin smut#din djarin fluff#din djarin x you#din djarin x reader#din djarin x female reader#din djarin x f!reader#mando#mando x you#mando x reader#mando x female reader#mando x f!reader#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian x you#the mandalorian x female reader#the mandalorian x f!reader
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The Tumblr Yandere Quintet (Peter, Sunny Day Jack, John Doe, Damon, and Alan Orion) - my personal headcanons SFW + NSFW
(TW: blood, knives, death, cannibalism, anything associated with yanderes will most likely be here, so you've been warned)
A/N: btw they coexist in the same universe here. Like, let's say they all live together in a house with Y/N. Why? Because I can. Also this is all F!Reader, so yeah.
~♡~Peter~♡~
• He is shy boi when it comes to you. He acts confident, but underneath he is lowkey panicking.
• But towards others, he is brat. Just, burns and roasts up the wazoo. It's like the person flips the switch and activates his bitch mode.
• he loves playing video games, anything that seem interesting to him. He loves Dead by Daylight and his favorite role is the killer.
• True Crime Aficionado. He listens to podcasts, watches documentaries and movies and YouTube videos, he knows serial killers' stories like the back of his hand.
• he can cook and bake pretty well. He's not Gordon Ramsay levels of good, but he very rarely makes a bad dish. He likes to make food for you and watch your reactions to it.
• as a boyfriend, he is such a hopeless romantic. Roses, poems, serenades (he's not confident in his singing voice, so he plays songs that say whatever he's feeling and sends you the youtube link to listen to them, or just blaring them on the radio outside your window), the whole shebang. Of course, he's not obnoxious about it. Just enough to make you swoon.
• You guys know that old famous photo of a soldier kissing his girlfriend after WW2? Yeah, Peter loves doing that to you.
• pet names for you: Darling, Honey, Baby, Princess, Angel. Basic stuff.
♡NSFW♡
• he likes to nibble on your ear. He loves your reactions to it.
• guy is a straight-up pervert. He'd grope you when you're alone and make dirty jokes. You'd blush tomato red each time.
• angel on the streets, devil in the sheets. More like incubus in the sheets. He will find ways to make you moan his name.
• WHAT DAT TONGUE DO THO? OH LAWD Seriously, when he eats you out, you swear you can feel the very tip of his tongue brush against your cervix.
• favorite positions are missionary, mating press, and doggy style. But he likes oral too, both sides. He loves feeling your warm mouth taking in his cock, he struggles not to cum right then and there. He loves your taste, he can't get enough of it.
•some nights he can be gentle, other nights he'll fuck you into the dirt.
• his cock is about 5.6 inches, good thickness. Not the dick of the gods, but still something to brag about. Very pretty, too.
• Knifeplay? On you, depends on if you're into it or not. On him, FUCK YEAH. He fantasizes about you using a knife to write your name on his chest. Getting cut gives him the biggest hard-on, he'd be already dripping pre-cum. And if you lick the cuts? Oh, this man will cum immediately.
• Anal? Hell yeah. If you're okay with it, of course.
~~~~~
~♡~Damon~♡~
• He's more chill and laid back. Also he's emo. Because I said so.
• He likes listening to music. He likes any genre, but he tends to leans towards emo bands, stuff from Lapfox Trax, and metal. But you play a country song, he will destroy the radio or debate on murdering the artist.
• He wears his puffy coat almost 24/7. I say almost because he can't wear it in the shower. He loves to share it with you, the whole two person in one coat thing couples do.
• he's a cuddle bug, but won't admit it. If you tease him about it, he'll deny it and blush.
• he acts like a kuudere to others, if not annoyed. But when with you, he's so sweet. He'd give you his umbrella if it's raining and you didn't have one.
• Dude can cook, if you can call preparing instant ramen in the microwave 'cooking'.
• This guy loves meat and chewing on bones, so I bet he is also a secret cannibal, but only eats his victims. Gotta get rid of the bodies somehow! He has Peter help with preparing and cooking the meat, but Damon never says where he got it. Peter knows, though, but he don't really care.
• pet names for you: Babe, Sweetie, Lovely
♡NSFW♡
• Favorite positions are you on top, and the position where you're on your stomach and he has your arm behind your back.
• He is SO loving and gentle most of the time. He just wants to make sure you're getting enough. You will cum many times before he even finishes.
• but once in a while, expect to be sore in the morning, some bruises here and there from how much he grips you.
• master of seduction right here. He will whisper in your ear the sweetest yet dirtiest stuff, maybe some erotica limerick/sonnet he found online. His voice is so smooth it makes your core tingle just by hearing it.
• his dick is pretty average, but it's not a bad thing. It gets the job done just fine and you're not complaining.
• he does have a bondage fetish. He loves to tie you to the bed and on special occasions, like your birthday, he'll tie himself up and let you do whatever you want.
• Anal? Nah. Unless you beg for it.
• dude loves meat, so... he has a dolcett fetish. (Don't know what it is? ...eh google it, I'm not your mom. But don't say I didn't warn you.) He never acts on it really [he may eat people, but he doesn't get off to it because he feels like he'd be cheating on you], but his phone and laptop has a folder with hundreds of pics/videos of dolcett porn. Sort of a guily pleasure fetish, emphasis on the pleasure.
~~~~~
~♡~Alan~♡~
• He is such a good boi. Sweetest boi in the world. Pure sugar cookie.
• he is the outdoorsy guy, hunting, fishing, camping, all that stuff. Dude lives in the woods.
• he's the one who brings home fish or game for dinner. Preps it himself in the garage. Expect to find some deer or birds hanging from the ceiling.
• he's a pro at bonfires. Knows all the different ways to burn wood.
• Cooking? He prefers to grill or cook over a fire. He sometimes indulges in Damon's choice of meats, but no one ever tells him what it is. So don't tell him. It'd break the guy...
• he is such a sweetheart. Asking if you're feeling ok, if you need any help with anything, just so considerate. Heavy follower of PDA.
• unashamed cuddler. When you two go camping, he has you in the same sleeping bag as him.
• HUGE astrology and astronomy nerd. He will talk your ear off about the star constellations and tell you your horoscope of the day and if you are compatible with him or anyone else in the group.
• pet names: Doe-Eyes, darling, honey, dear, love
♡NSFW♡
• he's more on the gentler side of things. Perfect candidate for your first time. He will comfort you if it hurts and praise you so much.
• favorite positions are where he can look at you splayed out and writhing in pleasure. Mostly missionary.
• man is a pussy eater. On bad days, he gives you puppy dog eyes and asks to eat you out. With those eyes, you can't help but say yes.
• he likes to nibble and bite. Favorite place to bite is your thighs. He can leave marks, but never breaks skin. If he does, he'll stop and patch you up.
• his cock is the smallest in the group, but not in general. It's pretty average, nothing to complain about. He's a grower, not a shower. You secretly find his cock (both erect and flaccid) adorable, but you never say that to his face.
• does he do anal? Only if you ask him to, but even then, he's hesitant. He will make sure you're prepped well.
~~~~~
~♡~Jack~♡~
• the ray of sunshine in the group. Always trying to cheer people up.
• he loves to give hugs any time, any day, any where
• he is such an 80s retro nerd. He has a collection of games and movies from that era. Favorite movies are The Breakfast Club and Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Favorite arcade game is Dragon's Lair or Pac-Man.
• definitely the fashionista of the group. He loves to create outfits for you to wear, making sure the colors compliment each other. He does this for the other guys too, but some are not sure how to feel about it.
• dude is the kind of guy who would wear a nun's halloween outfit as his costume for reals and awaken some people while wearing it. He makes any outfit sexy.
• Cooking? He prefers to bake. Champion at breakfasts. Favorite thing to make is blueberry pancakes.
• Himbo. Just. Pure grade-A himbo.
♡NSFW♡
• bruh, this man will be cheery and bubbly during the day, total daddy at night. Holy shit.
• he will show you that you are his and only his. He's only sharing you with the other guys just to make you happy.
• man's got a body like Adonis. He's got a chest where he got man tiddies.
• his cock? HOLY FUCK. He's the biggest out of the group and he has to force his way inside you sometimes (this is canon, I swear, I've seen that clip). It is downright BEAUTIFUL. You swear, he is some sort of god.
• his favorite positions are 1) where you're both on your sides, him behind you, lifting your leg so he can plow you while kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings and dirty shit in your ear. And 2) that position where you're on your belly and he is behind you, raising your ass to him and he has your arm pinned behind your back.
• he is definitely heavy on the praise. He sees you as a goddess. Expect him to make you cum multiple times before he even gets inside you, just to make sure you're putty in his hands and ready for him.
• does he do anal? Fuck yeah he does. But he's very careful about it and only does it when you say it's ok.
~~~~~
~♡John♡~
• and then there's John.
• he's just a crack baby.
• sorry, John Doe stans. I just couldn't get that much on this guy.
• he's essentially the pet dog of the group. But it's fine, he's into that.
• he's pretty much a feral animal.
• is fueled by energy drinks and Doritos.
• he LOVES when Damon feeds him the special meat he's collected. He gobbles that shit up.
• dude snuggles you like a puppy. He can be cute and sweet when he wants to, don't get me wrong here. Puppies are always sweet and cute.
• hates baths. Y/N has to chain him to the tub in order to bathe him.
• usually stays in his room. He plays Call of Duty with Peter and loves to watch zombie movies. Favorite movie is Cannibal Holocaust and City of the Living Dead. Ruggero Deodato, Lucio Fulci, and George A Romero are his idols.
• Cooking? No idea how. Anything already prepared is perfect for him.
♡NSFW♡
• you into werewolf quality sex? John's your guy.
• expect tons of nail marks and bites all over you once you're done.
• man will make you bleed.
• some nights, the guys will hear you yell "CHILL THE FUCK OUT!!" from your bedroom.
• he will almost eat you alive, he's that feral.
• Does he do anal? Duh.
• favorite position is you up against the wall.
~~~~~
Yandere Quintet Dynamics
Peter & John Doe: Gaming buddies
Jack & Alan: Big bro (Jack), little bro (Alan)
Peter and Damon: Constant dick-measuring (metaphorically, of course) at first, but now partners in crime (oh they'll double-team ya). They like discussing true crime stuff, enough to where they have a podcast.
Damon & John Doe: Man (Damon) using dog (John Doe) to hide evidence.
Jack & Peter: total nerd buddies. Trivia night is horrible with them.
Jack & John Doe: kid being terrified of dogs (Jack), rabid dog (John Doe)
Alan & Peter: another big bro (Peter), little bro (Alan) dynamic.
Alan & John Doe: hunter (Alan) and his hunting dog (John Doe)
Jack & Damon: guy (Damon) is annoyed by the other guy (Jack), but secretly enjoys his company.
Damon & Alan: same deal as Damon and Jack, but Damon will kill anyone trying to hurt or be mean to Alan.
~~~~~
Aaaaand that's all she wrote! Hope you enjoyed this feast!
#peter your boyfriend#your boyfriend game#your boyfriend peter#peter yb#yb peter#alan mdhm#mdhm#my dear hatchet man#there's something wrong with sunny day jack#sunny day jack#john doe#john doe game#damon broken colors#broken colors#yandere#sunny day jack smut#peter your boyfriend smut#alan my dear hatchet man smut#damon broken colors smut#broken colors smut#your boyfriend smut#my dear hatchet man smut#john doe smut#behold my reverse harem#i love them all dearly
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'Vengeance' - Toji Fushiguro.
summary: in which Mafia!Toji Fushiguro kills for you and you find yourself feeling turned on by your murderous lover.
wc: 2.9k
warnings: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader, graphic mentions of murder, mentions of blood, size kink, Toji is a bit soft for you as his cherished beloved, you're a bit unhinged here, squirting, creampie
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╰┈┈➤ find me at @kentolesbian now <3
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"I would kill for you."
The words cut the comfortable silence like a knife but you do not flench. A tender smile chases across your full lips, casting a look up at your lover as you clean his bloody knuckles. A routine you fell into lately whenever Toji came home after a long day of being a mafia boss. Whether you were cleaning off his blood or someone else's, Toji found solace in it. He enjoyed it because the love and care you showed for him is something he never got tired of. He could take multiple lives and you would be sitting right here, cleaning and tending to his wounds. You were his only light in his darkened, disgusting, hell life seemed to be. You were his only beacon, and he would kill anyone who threatened to dim it.
And you knew this.
"I know." You reply, applying antiseptic to his knuckles. Tiny hisses could be heard from the gruff man but quickly ceased as the small stings grew annoying more than painful. He lifts his hand to take a heavy drag from an ongoing lit cigarette as you finish up the last dressings to his wounds. You promptly put away the first aid kit under the sink, just barely putting the box away before a pair of strong hands grab your waist. You are pulled into his lap and forced to face your lover. Your delicate fingers trace the scar at the corner of his mouth as he takes another sharp inhale. Smoke clouded his lungs and nicotine numbed his brain with delight as he took in your sleepy expression.
Some of him felt bad for waking you, but he knew you would yell at him for bleeding on the sheets come morning. So when his broad frame entered the doorway, he didn't bother being quiet. He kicked the door closed and jolted you from your sleep, a silly mistake on his part. He remembers quickly grabbing your wrist, saying, it's me princess before you put a bullet in his skull. One of the many defensive responses you had learned after being tangled with Toji Fushiguro.
After assuring you it was him - your sleep finally released hold of your cognitive abilities - your hand retracted from the cold metal under the pillow. You got up from the bed, grabbed one of his hands, and dragged him behind you to the master bathroom. Commencing the routine of cleaning and attending to his wounds.
And now you sat on his lap, his wounds cared for and no more blood threatening to ruin your sheets.
So why exactly weren't you too back in bed? You had a feeling there was more to the reason why Toji dragged you out of bed.
And as usual, your feelings are right.
"You know that fucker who bothered you at the club last weekend?" Toji's gruff voice broke the silence and he watched your expression change to a thoughtful one. Your eyes shift to the side to recall the unpleasant moment. A night out with your girls ended with a man harassing you and your friends. Another man who could not take no for an answer. You were so irate, so angry that a man dared to touch you and your friends. Stifling tears that night, you called Toji and remember just ranting when he picked up.
"God I hate men like him." You had the wickedest tone in your voice that Toji never heard before. You may not remember the bite you had, due to how intoxicated you were, but Toji remembers. He remembers hearing that tone in your voice that echoed murderous rage.
"I hate hearing how upset you are and I can't get to you." Toji had gripped his phone viciously, fingers twitching to grab his keys to race to where you were. However, he was in the middle of a business deal.
"It's fine. I just want you to kill him. Kill men like him." Your words did nothing but echo in his brain for the rest of the evening.
"I hear you, baby."
"Yeah..." You trail off, eyebrows raised as you wait to see where Toji was going with this. He took a final inhale of his cigarette before ashing it in a nearby ashtray. His full attention was on you before he spoke.
"You'll never have to worry about him again." He said and you did not need him to elaborate on what he meant by that. You knew damn well what he meant by it and all sleep left your body. You cast a look over to the trash, the blood-soaked paper towels catching your eye and you look back at Toji.
"Is that why you haven't carried us to bed yet," you wrap your arms around his neck, "to tell me that you have killed for me." The way killed rolled off your tongue, and with the seductive eyebrow raise to match, Toji found himself smirking. Especially when you softly rocked your hips against his lap.
"Wanted to tell you I gutted him like deserved." Toji says, fingers digging into your waist.
"Was this before or after your meeting today?" You question, brushing his hair back from his forehead. He chuckles at your curiosity.
"Does it matter?" He asks, green eyes narrowing.
"No, but just wanted to see if you were that petty enough to do it after you got cut to hell." You laugh and Toji chuckles darkly. His hands leave your waist, sliding up your frame to slowly button the oversized shirt you were wearing. He could no longer ignore your hard nipples that poked through the material.
"Call me petty then, y/n." He frees your breast, groping them immediately and twisting your nipples with his fingers. You sigh at the feeling. You lean forward grabbing his lips with yours, unable to hold back from kissing him. Something about him paying a visit to a man who bothered you last weekend set something off in you. The thought of him stalking this man down how he did you and your friends left you wanting to rub your thighs together.
"Did he scream?" You ask against his lips and he shifts underneath your frame. His cock is stirring and reacting to your sudden change in demeanor. You were getting off on the thought of him killing someone for you and he couldn't ignore the blood beginning to rapidly pulse through his stream. His libido increasing to tenfold.
"Drug it out as long as possible but he was weak. I could have brought you to do it. Taught you somethings." He says against your mouth, testing to see just how far were you willing to go. Did you have limits? He needed to know.
"Bummer," you speak, his pupils dilating as his blood rushes to his cock, "next time." you whisper against his mouth, sultrily and he claims your mouth with his. He had enough and he needed to take you now. In a swift motion, he has you in the air, carrying you to the bed.
Time seemed to blur together and the next thing you knew your ankle was at his shoulder as he shoved his girthy cock inside you. The other leg was hoisted up by his other hand, holding you by the underside of your thigh. Pathetic whimpers and moans fell from your mouth as he continued to snap his hips back and forth.
"Toji!" You call out, sobbing as tears run down your cheeks. He takes a thumb, flicking the tear away before grunting.
"You're so filthy. Pussy getting wet because of me killing someone for you." He grabs ahold of your face with his one hand. You peer at him through hooded eyes, completely lost in the lust and the lewd thrusts coming from Toji. You are coherent enough to understand his words, a playful smile flaunting across your lips.
"Its why you love me." You tease and he chuckles, slowing his erratic thrusts for a moment. He could not deny that and he pats your cheek lovingly. You fall into his touch, whimpering softly as you feel his cock leave but only return to your silky, wet, cunt. Toji groans at the arousal coating his length, your sticky nectar gushing between your thighs and wetting his pelvis. He bites his lip, never tired of how wet your cunt gets because of him.
"Can't deny that, baby." He finally says back, tender moment over and he slams his cock back into you abruptly. You choke on a moan, wailing in pure pleasure as he snapped his hips against you over and over. Toji takes both of his hands, pinning them under your thighs and folding you in half almost. He shoves his cock deep, your walls contracting tightly around his cock before creaming. You mewl, toes curling and all Toji can do is grin.
"Oh-" you choke, "Toji!" One of his hands leaves your thigh to circle his thumb on your swollen clit. The puffy nub ached to be touched and Toji's calloused pad added just the right amount of roughness to send your head spinning. Your eyes roll in the back of your head, mouth agape as he continued his assault.
"No one will ever put a hair out place on that pretty head of yours. Understand me?" Your eyes open, feeling his hand leave your clit to grab your face once again. His stern words and dark gaze left you quivering and not because you were scared. A moan tumbles from your lips before you respond.
"Yes, Toji." You say, thighs quivering in unison with your cunt. He grins, feeling your tight walls attempting — and failing miserably — to push his heavy cock out. He knows you're a second away from coming. He releases your face once again to find his thumb back on your clit. You huff, frowning as your body shook violently.
"Gonna come yeah? Come all over this cock that fucking kills for you." His filthy words and a reminder of the murderous act he committed for you send you into a tailspin. Your mouth opens, a desperate wail ripping through before you squirt all over Toji's cock. You reach up nails raking down his chest and earning multiple hisses from him. Toji grabs you by your shoulder before sliding out of you. You whimper at the loss but gasp as he throws you onto your stomach.
Toji handles you like you're a rag doll and you're reminded of his brute strength and size. You cast a look behind you, seeing his stature tower over you before he grabs your waist. He places you on your knees and lines your ass up against his front. He spreads your thighs before slipping his cock back in. You threaten to double over but Toji reaches out, a hand grasping around your arm to pull you back against him. Your skin touching his was set ablaze and his big hand closes around your throat. He brings his mouth to your lips before speaking.
"I'm not finished with you yet." He grunts, hips slamming against your ass and causing you to cry out. The new angle had you seeing stars, babbling incoherent praises and curses. His cock continued to sink inside your drenched cunt, a delicious burn along your walls because of the stretch.
"Right there — oh! Fuck!" You were becoming a sobbing mess, thighs shaking and threatened to give out at any moment. Toji saw this, your small frame struggling to keep up with his massive size and he couldn't help but smirk. You were a fighter. A stubborn fighter and you were all his.
And everyone needed to know that.
"Your thighs shaking, you need me to help you?" Toji taunts, his hand on your throat tightening. You could still breathe, but the pressure left hot prickles of goosebumps up and down your spine. His other arm comes around your frame, holding you up and steady against him.
"Toji!" Your toes curl and your body goes limp in his arms. His strength allows him to continue to hold your body in place, not allowing you to escape the relentless thrusts from his cock. You knew you weren't going to last much longer. All you could scream was his name at this point. Fucked completely stupid to the point where all you wanted to do was say his name.
"You wanna know the first thing I took from him was," Toji starts, moving his fingers from your throat to creep up your chin, "his fingers." He says before shoving his digits inside your mouth. You latch onto them, sucking and moaning around them. Drool and spit run down your chin when he retracts his fingers. You whimper at the loss but immediately choke when those sloppy wet digits land on your aching clit.
"I'm going to come!" You warned, your thighs quivering and your hand reached down to his arm around your waist. Your nails dug into his skin, breaking it, but Toji did not mind. His cock jumped at the feeling of your scratches as you wailed in his arms.
"Give me my reward for killing for this pussy." Toji coaches you through your orgasm, shoving his cock deeper inside your cunt, tip reaching the deepest parts of you. White clouds your vision as electricity jolts throughout your body. The hairs on your body stand up as you tumble into an overwhelmingly sensual delirium.
"Shit baby." Toji chuckles, feeling you squirt once again as you came hard. Your body shook violently and you went limp in his arms. You cry, tears running down your face from how hard you orgasmed. It only became more paralyzing as Toji still continued to fuck you through your orgasm.
"Toji," you hiccup, "fuck!" You were a mess and the overstimulation left you euphorically dazed. Toji now had you laying on your stomach, his frame perched on your thighs as he had your cheeks spread. He started watching his cock disappear between your silky folds. You were not even fully out of your first orgasm haze and here Toji was about to fuck you into another. Your cunt left his cock creamy and he groans at the sight.
"You're soaking baby." Toji felt himself coming soon, head swimming as your arousal continued to mix. His cock pulsing with the desire to release. That knot in his member threatening to unravel at any moment.
"It's all for you, Ji." You managed to call from the pillow, he admires your resolve, still trying to keep up. He chuckles before slapping your ass cheek, earning a moan and a twitch of your cunt. He hisses, balls swelling and he began to thrust faster.
"Fuck. I'm gonna come inside this pretty little cunt." Toji warns, chest heaving faster and he slaps your rear once more. Your walls twitch around him again, whimpering as you gush around him one more time. The sight sends him over the edge and he lets out a groan.
"Come for me, Mr. Fushiguro." You taunt, earning another slap of the ass and you squeal. Your clit twitches and his cock nudges that perfect spot and you come a second time. You drop your head into the pillow as your body trembles.
"Sassy little fucking mouth." He chuckles, ceasing his thrusts and sliding out of you. You whimper at the loss, tossing your head to the side to look over your shoulder. You watch Toji spread your ass cheeks and you open your legs, already knowing what he wanted to see.
"You like it though." You fire back as you watch the man eye your abused cunt. You're sure it's covered in your sticky nectar and it's only a matter of time before Toji's cum joins the mix too. He doesn't move his gaze before replying.
"I also like when you behave." He says, seeing his cum creep out of your cunt and he frowns. He takes his fingers and starts fucking his semen back inside of you. You whimper because your walls are still sensitive, but you take it. You love this primal and territorial side of him.
"I've been good lately." You frown, a soft moan escaping your mouth as he retracts his fingers, satisfied with stuffing you with his cum. He moves, crawling up the bed and extending his fingers to you. You don't need to be told what to do and you're sucking the mixture of you two off his digits. He grunts.
"Lately." He repeats as you remove his fingers from your mouth. You chuckle giving him a small smile, looking up at him from the pillow.
"It's your turn to take care of me." You turn over to your side, extending your arms to your lover. A disdained look casts over his face, a look many would fear but it only makes you giggle more. You manage your best puppy dog eyes.
"Stop that shit, y/n." Toji's command is ignored and you only continue to give him puppy eyes. He sighs, sucking his teeth as he runs a tired hand over his face. Years you two have been together and yet you still were able to stress him out. You were such a pain in his ass but he loved it.
He didn't have to verbally tell you for you to know that either.
©kentolesbian
📓☕︎♫₊˚.🎧 ✩｡
╰┈┈➤ MASTERLIST!. . . coming soon
#reupload because the header was a nasty no no!!!#just getting around to reuploading too so hehe#toji fushiguro smut#toji x y/n#toji fushiguro x reader#toji headcanons#toji fushiguro#writings#hopefully i haven't missed any typos but eh this ain't english class I'll catch them later enjoyyy <#<3
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My Turn
Media The Artful Dodger
Character Jack Dawkins
Couple Jack X Reader
Rating SMUT!
I woke as I often seem to find myself these days, my body laid in the cotton nightie I had worn to bid my mother and father goodnight, I'm honestly a little surprised it was still on me. I was warm and cosy, with a sweet cotton sheet over me, the mattress I laid on firm and functional with a metal bed frame which wasn't the best thing for secrecy as it tended to whine and squeak with every movement in the bed but I get this feeling in my stomach that was somewhat intentional. I laid on my back having turned there in my half awake state as I tended to sleep on my side or even my stomach sometimes, with a strong but slender arm draped over my waist, another I wasn't sure where, his warm body filled the other half of the single bed keeping things toasty and cozy for me, his grip lazier then it began from the tossing and turning and general relaxedness of sleep, I couldn't help but smile to realize I had woken up here again instead of my bed at home.
It may not creak, it may be double the size and may have more blankets then a girl will ever need but it doesn't have Jack. And this one does. Which makes me feel so very happy indeed.
I began to stir more which seemed to have aroused him too as he began to stir with me until we found each other at the tip of the others nose
“Good morning” I whispered
“morning, you don't have to whisper you know” he yawned
“Walls have ears jack.”
“Do they know?” He chuckled “humm I think if these walls could listen, and of course then talk about what they listened, they might have some very interesting stories to tell” he smirked taking my hand intertwined our fingers together and peppering kisses on the top of my hand
“I don't think those stories would be appropriate for children.” I giggled
“Absolutely not.” He smirked “I think many infact would fine some of them … highly deplorable”
“Well your a deplorable boy” I giggled
“Am I now?” He smirked “I'm sure the walls would have a good pile of stories that, if anyone was to hear about such a… innocent young lady, I'm sure they'd find you even more deplorable.”
“I'm sure of it. Utterly despicable behavior”
“Humm you're my despicable little darling aren't you?” He smirked finally connecting our lips immediately I tugged on his neck to pull him even closer as his arms wrapped tightly around me leaving me utterly in his grasp and rather unable to escape even if I wanted too, but I couldn't imagine a reason to want to, till he moved down to kiss my jaw, and then down my neck
“I don't feel my actions would even reach the top twenty of the sortas of deplorable things these walls would speak of”
“Don't you? Need I remind you, what my little angel was doing to me last night? Or will the meer suggestion of bouncing, bed creaking and … silk scarfs enough to jog your memory?” He smirked stroking his fingers across what little exposed skin I had in this nightie
“I'd hardly call that deplorable?”
“I don't know, a pretty little young lady creeping into a doctor's bedroom, for her to tie his hands to the bed with a silk scarf, strip naked and ride him like your personal stallion. I don't know if I'd call it deplorable persay”
“What would you call it then?’ I giggled playing with his hair
“Umm sexy as fuck -” he growled pulling me back to our kiss each kiss now getting more and more intense
“Humm I suppose you could call it that, but then if thats sexy as fuck, then what would we call a certain doctor who brought a young lady into his bed and kept her ankles above his shoulders for an hour and a half”
“i'd call it, a pretty tame Tuesday night” he growled stroking my cheek and kissing me intensely
“I need to go jack, I don't we could get in trouble.”
“We could, in so much trouble.” He growled pulling me back to a kiss and picking up my thigh to wrap it around his hip “tell me you don't want me, and I'll let you go” he smirked pushing up my nightie to stroke my bare leg
“You know I can't do that”
“Humm” he smirked “tell me you don't need me, and I'll let you slink on back to that big bed of yours.”
“That's not fair”
“Why not?”
“Because you know I can't”
“No shame playing a game you know you win” he smirked moving his hand higher and higher “umm you had to wear that nightie didn't you? You know what it does to me darling, seeing you all… buttoned up and hidden away knowing what's under it. Knowing this big tent of a nightie hides the body that makes me cum” he whispered between his harsh kisses down my jaw and neck nibbling with his teeth a little as he tugged at me nightie which was enough for the top of it to get pulled down opening up where the buttons where undone and sitting just off my shoulders “ummm don't tease me” he growled kissing down my neck and now across my exposed chest gently moaning as he did until his hand found the tie of my nightie that would let it drop “there it is.” He gasped
“No. I need to get back remember’ I told him stopping him from tugging at it
“I don't recall this conversation” he lied
“Jack I want to stay you know I do but my parents come to look for me and I'm not there all hell will break loose”
“I know, but…”
“But?”
“You can't just, leave me like this.” He whined “you wound me up so tight last night, you have to let me go, or I might snap”
“Snap?”
“Humm like last time” he smirked
“You became some evil little creature” I giggled
“You came here and sucked my dick almost to completion every day for two weeks straight. I'm surprised I didn't crack sooner! You wound me up far to tight darling, I had to let it out somehow.” He smirked “not my fault you wore that little blue dress, you know how good it m akes your … ummmmm” he growled staring at my breasts “and an hour long carriage ride with those things bouncing up and down in that little blue dress, how was I meant to do anything other then what I did”
“Pulling us over and making us two hours late arriving and I lacked a dress”
“You got a new dress didn't you?”
“After my first was torn utterly to shreds”
“I can't help that you wind me up so much” he smirked his hand moving up to grab my ass “ummm fuck-”
“Jack I have to go, five minutes then I really need to go”
“Five minutes?’ he smirked “one can do an awful lot in five minutes”
“Can you?”
“You know I can” he growled “fine. Five minutes. Which would you rather? Repeating the deplorable conduct of last night, or something quick and loud?”
‘quick”
“Perfect’ he smirked slapping my ass before he pulled me into a heavy kiss till he pulled back ‘you know how this works, be nice and loud for me darling pompous twats in the office today”
“And we're right above him”
‘oh yes we are, so nice and loud for me give him something to be pouty in surgery later” he winked moving down kissing down mt nightie till he met my hips where he quickly grabbed my thighs and forced them apart, he didn't waste a second kissing my inner thigh until he my clit, which he clamped on to and sucked only breaking to kiss and lick leaving me an utter moaning mess gripping the pillow tightly I didn't hold back letting my moans and squeals fall from my lips reacting to his every tongue flick
“Uhhhhh! Jack please -” I gasped knowing how close I was and already knowing five minutes was out the window I couldn't make him stop not now and even if I asked I doubt he would
“What's the matter darling? This not despicable enough for you?” He growled before slipping his fingers inside me as he ate me out causing my thighs to clamp on his head and my hand to grab his hair tugging on his hair like crazy
“Ahhhhhhhhh! Uhhh- jack- please - please!” I begged and he obliged speeding both up which was enough to tip me over “Uhhhh yes! Yes! YES! AHHHHHHH!” I squealed feeling pleasured wash over me he let me ride it out before he pulled back and loomed over me with an amused smile as he saw me sweaty, gasping my breasts almost popped out my nightie, the hem around my stomach, my legs still open and my juices leaking out of me onto his bed he slowly licked his fingers clean then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then licking that up too
“Why do you do that?’ I giggled as he got himself a drink of water from the side
“Why would I wanna waste what tastes so good,” he smirked before he moved to sit on his knees leaning his back against the metal footboard of the bed he opened his knees wide and leant his elbows on the metal frame for the first time this morning I saw his fully naked form seeing just how hard he was “my turn” he smirked
And I giggled moving to my knees fixing my nightie to expose more of me and crawling over to him
#tbs#thomas brodie sangster#thomas sangster#tbs smut#thomasbrodiesangster#tbs imagine#tbs imagines#thomas sangster imagine#thomas brodie sangster imagine#thomas brodie sangster smut#the artful dodger#jackdawkins#jack dawkins
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sought heaven in you (but i found hell)
↠ summary: Losing your older sister, Emma, took a toll on both you and your half-brother, Mikey. As children your relationship was estranged, but after running away and years passed, Mikey wasn't going to let you out of his grasp again. Even if it meant lending you out to other men for the sake of "protection."
↠ word count: 20,750
↠ pairing: sano manjiro x reader, slight kakucho x reader + bonten trio x reader
↠ genre/warnings: smut, angst, bonten au, DARK CONTENT, yandere, incest, sibling abuse, abuse of power, drugs, alcohol, emotional and sexual abuse/assault, sex work, blood, guns, slight suicidal thoughts, reader is described with having visual bruises. NSFW (NONCON, fingering, pussy slapping, mentioned fisting, spanking, belt used as leash, choking, bondage, riding, exhibitiobism/voyeurism, possessiveness, unprotected sex, little aftercare)
↠ a/n: this is for @killsaki's collab. also take this as an apology for disappearing for a month, i offer you nii-chan porn in exchange for forgiveness
Rattling breaths polluted the winter air. The oxygen shuttered in your chest as you quickened your footsteps. The awning of the train stop was right in view.
Flurries of snowflakes clouded your vision, highlighted by the street lamps that guided your path. Night blanketed you. Gripping the backpack in your stiff hands, you try as you may not to look over your shoulder.
You never knew fear like this before and you clung onto it to remind you of why you were here, in the dead of the night. As if Fate was watching over you as you groaned in relief at the awning a step away, the click of a gun being cocked was right behind you.
“Don’t make this difficult, Y/n.”
CONCEPTION
"Again?" A voice called.
Deep in the room where ruffled bed sheets are were a reminder as to why you were shaking. Your throat was tight and achy. This wasn't the first time a client got violent, but it was the first time they were able to get a hit in.
You clenched your eyes as their blood was still warm on your hands. The memory was hazy as one moment you were flirting with them and the next they had slammed you against the desk with taut hands. Eyes almost bulged out of your head as you scratched and spit to get him off you. With a free hand, you scrambled against the desk for anything to get them off. A book or even a paper weight would suffice, but your desperate fingers gripped onto a letter opener.
The same primal, vicious instinct pulsed through you as the man killing you as you jammed the letter opener so far into his neck you heard the squelch of metal hitting tendons. He stumbled back in shock as he tried to cradle the wound as he rapidly bled out. His mouth was left agape just as yours. You cradled your throat as you coughed and greedily breathed in air.
As he collapsed, you screamed so loud the sound still haunted the room. At that, Kakucho burst in.
"What the fuck is going on?" He barked.
The scene in front of him answered his own question. He spied how you were still clutching your weapon, blood running down your hand from your forearm and the same red liquid splattered on your face. Your eyes were wide and terrified.
"He- I'm- He tried-" You stuttered out.
Kakucho went to the dying man and pulled him up. "You aren't getting out of this so easily."
You had no idea if those words were targeted towards you or the man. Whatever it was, Kakucho helped the man get medical attention. The blood leaving a stain on the expensive carpet was neglected.
More men filed into the room to clean up the mess with Kakucho instructing them to make sure the man was tended to. You stayed at the desk, not moving, not blinking and barely breathing. Time whizzed past you as Kakucho finally came to check on you.
He took the letter opener from your hand. You let him pry open your twitching fingers, fluttering like a dead butterfly's wings. Gripping the side of your head, he directs your attention to him and not the tainted floor. Your pupils sluggishly met him, keeping your focus on his non-blind eye. By now, only you and Kakucho were in the room. Taking the opportunity to be alone with you, Kakucho held you to ground you back to Earth.
“You know this has to be reported to Mikey, right?”
Tears bubbled into your waterline, chest hiccupping. As the adrenaline crash was setting in so did the realization that you just fucked up an arms deal that was in the works for weeks now. You were doomed.
“Don’t tell Mikey,” you begged in spite of how raw your throat was.
Kakucho was about to open his mouth when a voice cut him off.
“Don't tell me what?”
Speak of the devil and he will arrive. Mikey came from behind Kakucho standing in the doorway. Sometimes you think he does this on purpose as punishment, punishment that it was Emma and not you. You peer over to him from where he stands in the doorway. Despite his small frame, his presence polluted and took up the area.
No matter what you did, you could never rid yourself of him.
Kakucho drew himself away from you and let Mikey take the reins. The smaller man crossed the room to stand just where Kakucho was. Taking the hint, he left you and your older brother alone. Your eyes bounced to him, suffocating the pleading expression.
Leering back at Mikey, you slouch more against the desk so he had more of a height advantage. He liked you small. The dark circles were a harsh purple against his dulling skin. You remembered the days when his complexion was a healthy tan with a pinky flush. Mikey was a mere shell of the man he used to be.
His slender but encompassing hand, held your chin smearing the blood deeper into your pores. Tilting your head to the left and then the right, he was silent while he observed your darkening bruise. You were sure it was an ugly red. Assessing the damage, his fingers glided against the flesh and you whimpered in pain. The wound was still very much raw and your larynx was aching.
Sighing, he stopped poking at it since you proceeded to flinch. “Someone bring ice!” He hollered into the hallway.
Turning back to you, his hand went down to stroke up and down your shoulders. The motion brought no comfort.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know,” you rasped.
Mikey didn’t seem to believe you, but decided to drop it since you were so dazed. He couldn’t get any information out of you when you were like this.
“He won’t be allowed back here again, so don’t worry about that.”
The words were meant to bring you solace, but like his touch, it only set you more on edge. You weren’t worried about that. You were terrified you would have to go back. You were sick of this job. You never wanted to in the first place.
What Mikey harbored for you wasn't love and you were sure of it. He never cared for you as an older brother should. For the promise of a done deal, he would sell you to the highest bidder. After the death of your sister, Emma, his leash was incredibly tight.
You were only about five years old when you met Mikey. Taken to the Sano household after you had met Emma first, you had hid behind her leg in fear. You were a secret as you were proof of your father's infidelity. One time was a mistake, but twice was a pattern. Though the cat was out of the bag when your mother stopped being able to afford your care and had to beg the Sano household for help.
For a year, you would have supervised visits with her, usually at parks, so you had a stable pillar to lean on when you were uprooted from your old home. You were always a shy child. Understanding how scary it was to be told you had a whole other family, six year old Emma took you under her wing. You two were thick as thieves, though when she hung out with Mikey you always hung back.
Even as a young child you could tell that the older boy never did like you. Or at least you thought. Once out of ear shot Mikey would ask Emma why you always avoided him. She would merely shrug, just as confused as him. Both of them were a lot more outgoing than you. When Mikey would bring around his friends even as you grew older, you would offer a small wave before barricading yourself in your room.
They tried their damnedest to befriend you though it felt like trying to trick a feral kitten out of hiding with treats. Eventually you would join them in the living room when you could sit next to Emma. Mitsuya and Draken were usually the ones to get you out of your shell the most. Offering no words but they did extend your favorite snack they got at a convenience store, Mikey would watch in envy.
You had been there that night, following Emma. After her death whatever petals that blossomed had shriveled and curled in on themselves. You barely talked and barely ate. Nothing could fill your stomach so you starved, cold from the lack of her warmth. Though she did not leave. She was everywhere, deep in the wallpaper and woven into the fibers of the couch. Her ghost refused to leave the house.
Both you and Mikey were cracking. In the hospital was the first time you two had touched each other. You sobbed into his arms all night long as he shoved his head into your hair. He gripped you so hard you swore he was trying to crawl his way into your ribcage. And at the time, you would have let him. Anything to fill the ache. Draken could only watch sorrowfully. After that night, nothing was the same nor would it ever be.
The whisperings at school and how Toman tried their best to talk to you, grated your ears. For the first time in your life, you were angry. Not a childish anger or simple annoyance. You were enraged and everything was too loud. The sad looks filled to the brim with pity poured into your mouth until you were forced to swallow the false pleasantries. There are so many ‘my condolences’ a person can take.
What broke the most was how Mikey stared at you with such contempt and longing. You knew that he only saw Emma. Your silhouette haunted the home and you both knew you would never be her. He began bringing you to gang meetings. Where Mikey was, you were sure to be tethered to him.
Your hands were sticky with the glue you tried to hold yourself together with for your family. Mikey had known her longer and had been so protective of her, the love he had for her was something you couldn’t fulfill. As the weeks passed, he must have come to the realization as well. He grew meaner and colder. Your brother abandoned clinging to you and pushed you so far you meshed into the walls with her.
The house was tense and it was like walking on eggshells. Any word you spoke was met with a glare and scoff. There was no escape from him as you both attended the same middle school. His icy demeanor stuck to your skin, pulling would only rip away a layer of flesh.
You could tell the words clenched behind his teeth; it should have been you and not her. For the first time in years, you agreed with him. So a few months later, you packed your bags, leaving a letter on your bed and hopped out your bedroom window. Thank God you were on the first floor. With the little money you had from doing odd jobs, you bought a train ticket as far from Tokyo as possible. With a stroke of luck you were able to find your estranged grandmother who took you in, residing deep in the countryside.
You couldn’t stand watching Mikey destroy everything with his stupid middle school gang. You lost what mattered most because of him, the angrier part of you raged. Though as you got older you stopped blaming him. Maybe if you were more vengeful you would have sought out Hanma or Kisaki for murdering your sister when you fled into the night, but you were too exhausted for such emotion.
When Mikey saw you again he swore he was dreaming or he didn’t get enough rest. He doesn’t sleep much nowadays. Years had passed since he found your letter. He had read and reread it over and over until the words finally sunk in. The immature part of him wanted to scream and cry. In hysterics, he ran to Draken’s home with the letter and wailed to him that they had to find you. What if Kisaki or Hanma found you? How dare you leave him, you were his like everyone else in his life. He already lost Emma and now you? Something finally snapped inside him that day.
Though he honored your wishes and left you alone. Mikey was out with his men when you passed by him like a wayward butterfly, he knew that this was a sign that you were meant to be in his grasp again. You had grown so much since the last time he saw you. Unsurprisingly since you were thirteen when you ran away. Your hair was longer and dyed a different color, you were so beautiful and it stung that he never got to watch you grow up with him. He had no clue you were back in Tokyo or if you left at all. He immediately asked Kakucho to track where you are and your routine.
Sickness festered inside him when he found out you worked a humble desk job, frequenting a bar with your male coworkers, laughing boisterously with them. None of those men could care for you like your big brother could.
As giddiness built in Mikey, an uneasiness settled into you.
When you arrived at your apartment late in the evening, something was amiss. The door was unlocked when you spun the knob. A shiver ran up your spine, you always locked it along with the two extra locks you put just in case.
Exhaling a shaky breath you reach for the small handgun you had in your handbag. The possession was highly illegal, but you abused the ties you had to Mikey to obtain it. You weren’t ignorant to what your half-brother got himself into. Steeling yourself, you pushed open the door and walked inside. There was no use to run since if they found out where you live, they would only follow.
Holding your gun out, you side stepped into the pitch black to the light switch. Before you got there the living room light flicked on by itself. You whipped around to see your older brother stand in the space.
You sagged your shoulders and dropped the gun to your side, still clutched onto it.
“You don’t seem surprised to see me,” Mikey’s tone was bored.
He looked a lot skinnier than the last time you saw him and his hair was completely different.
“More like relieved it's just you.”
He pointed his head towards your gun, “Why do you have that?”
“Protection,” Was your reply, still on edge. Yes you were glad it was him and not a stranger, but you weren’t stupid or blind to what he has become.
Mikey embarked towards you and you backed away, scared of what he was capable of and why he broke into your home. You can’t imagine it's for a long awaited family reunion.
“What do you want, Manjiro?”
“Can’t a brother visit his dear, baby sister?”
With each word he stepped closer to you until you were backed into a corner. Stumbling over your still heel clad feet, you two fell into a twisted rhythm. The door was still in sight and your focus ricocheted to the escape route. Keeping him at arm's length, you raised your gun at the unwavering man.
“Get away from me.”
His eyes were dead and showed no emotion as he twisted the gun out of your grasp. You yelped at the pain shooting up your wrist as he locked your arm. If he applied a little more pressure the bone would surely break.
He tugged you close to him until you were almost nose to nose, “Do you think a gun would protect you against any of the men who want your head on a platter? I never remembered you being this naive.”
“Because you didn’t know me,” You spat out.
“Bullshit, I know everything about you and I know that if I let you stay in this apartment for one more night then it won’t be only me that will pay you a visit. Kisaki is still out there, you know?”
You glanced back down at the gun but he kicked it even farther away, “You are not going to uproot my life because you deem it fit. I don’t need you.”
He brought a hand to your face and gently cradled it as you glared at him, “I don’t think I asked.”
Mikey released you from his hold to shove you onto the couch. Hugging the offending wrist to your chest, you rubbed out the pain the best you could. A new man comes into your agape door with a certain swagger to him. His hair was a deep black and a middle part that reached about his ears. One of his eyes was a foggy hue with a scar framing it. It only served to make him more handsome.
He made himself at home within your apartment, immediately helping Mikey to pack all your belongings.
“I’m Kakucho,” He introduced himself as he put the bag down near you. Mikey could be heard ruffling through your shit in the background.
“Fuck you,” You replied, pissed that Mikey dragged you back into this life.
He laughed at your response and the corner of your lip quirked up, but you stifled it. He was attractive, you will give him that, but you refused to fall for his demeanor and sharp grin.
Before you could dwell on the man in front of you, Mikey ushered you out of the apartment and into the car waiting for you three at the back of the building. The model was obviously something expensive, but it did nothing to impress you. Your bags were put in the trunk while you were shoved in between the two men. There were two other men in the front, the one driving seemed familiar.
How Bonten had not been caught was beyond you with the mansion they all lived in. They obviously were flexing their wealth, but you assumed the police were being bought out so they didn’t care. The halls billowed as you were toiled to where Mikey wanted you.
He burst open a door to what you presumed is his office. He sat behind the desk in a fancy office chair while you were forced onto the lavish, leather seat. You stared at each other before your brother finally spoke.
“I want you to be a hostess at the Haitani Brothers’ clubs,” he raised a hand to stop your protests, “All I need is for you to butter up clients. Nothing more than a little touching and drinking with them. You will be guarded the whole time.”
“Are you serious, you want to whore me out to gangsters? You’re out of your mind!”
“Watch your tone,” His timbre was plain, but his irises flashed with something violent.
“You don’t get to try to act like a respectable older sibling now.”
“This isn’t up for discussion, this is to ensure your safety.”
You laughed out a scoff, “Yeah, safety. If you wanted me to be safe, you would have stayed the fuck out of my life.”
You shot out of your seat and flipped him the bird when he yelled at you to come back like a father herding an insolent toddler. You exited out of his office and passed by Kakucho who hooks a hand around your arm. “Hey, hey, hey, where are you going?”
“Let me go before I scream.” A glare was stamped deep on your forehead.
“That will only bring men who aren’t as nice as me.”
You raised a brow at that.
“Look, I know Mikey doesn’t seem like he has the best intentions, but for the past few years, you don’t know how much he talked about you. He missed you.”
You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, confused and uncomfortable. What choice did you have?
EGG
The ability to speak again came back a couple days later. A bruise stayed heavy on your throat, wrapped in semi-permanent handprints, you tried your hardest not to stray on your reflection. Purple and red bloomed from the wound and were quite tender. Despite this, you were offered little sympathy.
Within a dark corner of the back of one of the Haitani brothers’ clubs, Kakucho tried to offer some pity. Your face was twisted into an ugly expression from the anxiety. Clutching your arms so tight that your nails left indents in the fragile flesh, you lifted your head to him.
“I don’t think I can do this.”
He only sighed with sadly pinched eyebrows.
At the sound, your voice hitched, “Don’t make me do this, Kakucho.”
“You know that I can’t do anything about it.”
You gripped at his shirt and you tried not to break apart as you wheezed out, “Have you ever even tried.”
He clutched your cheeks between his fingers, “Me even thinking about it will have both our heads. I may be number three but I am not as powerful as you think I am.”
You rested your head on his chest, “I know.”
And you do, you were not ignorant to the fact that you and Kakucho being as close as you are is a risk in of itself. Though, you took the leap, hugged the one bit of kindness of this world close to your aching chest.
He lifted your head and extracted you from him, “We both have a job to do. Let's just get through tonight.”
Agreeing, you towed yourself from him and steeled yourself. With a bleeding heart, you departed from him and rounded the corner to the door into the back of the club. Even in the back hallways of the club, the smell of smoke crowded your lungs. The bass of the music was a soft thumping, comforting you. The walls were illuminated with an orange watercolor like finish. A haze clouded your vision.
Free of any human interaction, you make it into your private room. Here was where you got ready and welcomed clients to your misfortune. The room was on the bigger side, complete with a velvet couch, an ottoman and a classic style vanity. It all screamed old Hollywood.
Amongst the furniture was the very last person you wanted to see. Leaning against your vanity table was Sanzu. He was clad in his usual purple pinstripe suit without the blazer. His arms were crossed, posture that of a disapproving parent. You instantly tensed.
“Where’s Ran?” You asked as he was the one that told you your clients.
He didn’t respond to you. Further on edge, you spied how he beckoned you over with a curl of his finger. Tethered to the palm of his hand, you walked over. Crossing the room in about ten steps, you stand before the lanky man. In front of him, you shivered at how in spite of his slouched stance, he towered over you.
This close, you could see how his dilated pupils ate up the beautiful blue. The man stayed silent and so did you. You watched each other as he parts an arm from the tangle and dragged a hand up your arm. Swallowing the shutter, your arm broke out in goosebumps as his fingers glided up to your shoulder and to your neck. You winced when he pressed a thumb into the healing skin.
Gently, he traveled to your nape and stroked the baby hairs. Not before twisting the long fingers deep in your tendrils and wrenched your head so far back you screamed and scrambled to grab the offending wrist.
His visage was thunderous as he pulled your face close to his, “You are not going to fuck this up, you are already on thin fucking ice, you hear me?”
Eyes clenched, you could barely respond from the agony. He jostled you and tears strung your eyes, but he didn’t care.
“Look at me.”
Terrified of what he would do, you opened your eyes. Sanzu’s features were blurry from the water, but the pleasure he got from this was prevalent. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he shoved you as close to him as possible. The man rubbed his bulge against your crotch. Of course he was getting off to this. Trying to ignore the motion, you stared up at him with pinched eyebrows. Something crossed between a glower and a dejected expression.
“I love how pathetic you look like this.”
The freak proceeded to lick up the tears that cascaded down your cheeks. You squirmed and whined in his suffocating embrace, hating the slimy tongue against your skin.
Already bored of you rejecting his little game, he pushed you away from him. With the pressure, you stumbled into the ottoman in the middle of the room. You peered up at him with unbridled hatred, but there was nothing you could do and he was well aware of the fact.
“Behave or else that bruise around your throat will be the least of your problems.”
With that he walks out and slams the door closed. You glimpsed up at the vanity to see the mascara streaks on your cheeks and your ruffled hair. A screech pierced through the air as you pounded a fist against the seat before composing yourself and stared at yourself in the mirror, getting lost in the reflection.
Like Kakucho said, you have a job to do.
A voice towed you from your thoughts. Oh yeah, a few hours had passed. Your reflection met you once again except you were far away from the private room. Here, you were in Mikey's bedroom. He rarely used the room unless he wanted something from you. In the full length mirror, you stared at the woman clad in a pretty dress. Tonight was a blur and you welcomed the cloudy feeling, the less you remember the better.
From behind, Mikey approached your form. Brief eye contact was exchanged as he put his hands on your bare upper arms. The warmth had you shutter, but you almost drifted into him.
“Arms up,” He spoke into the tense air.
Like a dog, you obeyed. His fingers brushed against the hem as he pulled the dress over your head. Deliberately, he leaned the garment against the chair near the open, walk-in closet. Your arms were heavy lead as they dropped back down to your sides.
Mikey crossed back to your stagnant form. His eyes drank up your almost naked silhouette, unable to keep his touch to himself. Kissing your bare shoulder, he whispered in the flesh, “My pretty girl.”
You shuddered.
Still watching each other through the glass, Mikey turned his focus to the man-made collar decorating your throat. His hand traveled to the bruise and brushed against it. The pain was dull. As your brother bore into you, you had half the mind to cover yourself, but it would only offend him.
“Let’s go to bed.”
Every time he uttered those words, a part of you withered. Mikey was a possessive man by nature. Despite him being the one to force you into this profession, he would always satisfy the need to conquer.
You merely nodded as you laid in the soft bed sheets curated just for you. He was quick to cover his body with yours. The stark difference of you only in panties compared to him still fully dressed was humbling. You were vulnerable.
Your hair pooled around your head like a halo. His own strands curtained around you, framing his face so it was all you saw. If Mikey had it his way, that is exactly what would be your own world. Him.
In a sense, he already was.
One arm bracketed your head while the other reached to cup your bare breast. His thumb circled the nipple. Your breath hitched as he toyed with the sensitive flesh until it pebbled. A yelp left you when he pinched your nipple. You squirmed, hating how he did it only to elicit a reaction. The corner of your brother’s lip quirked up.
“I won’t torture you too much tonight,” He spoke against your lips.
“Please.”
You didn’t want this to last longer than needed. He loved to take his time with you. To pull every reaction and sound from you until you were sapped dried.
He kept circling your nipple as he slotted his crotch more firmly against yours. Impatient, Mikey rubbed himself into your warming pussy. Bending down, he kissed your temple. Moving in tandem with him, you bucked into the growing bulge. He was so much different from Sanzu in this regard where he still hasn’t fucked you. The taller man couldn’t say the same.
Becoming bored of toying with your breast, his hand trailed down the length of your rib cage down to your hip bone. Mikey fully pulled away so he sat on his heels. Wanting better access, both hands went to the lacy hem of your pale pink panties. His thumbs hooked around the fabric and lugged down. The fabric was easily torn away. Like unwrapping a present, he ripped the undergarment completely off you. Gentle when it caught on your ankles, pulling your legs up to gain access. Your brother kissed the bone.
Sliding his palms down, he cupped them underneath the juncture and pushed your knees to your chest. Those inky irises bored into your bare cunt. A mix between the brief pleasure and the humiliation, your pussy glistened.
“Fuck, you look so tight. I have no clue how with how slutty your pussy is,” His tone stayed bored but with a breathy edge to it.
When you didn’t acknowledge his words, he released one of your legs to slap your clit. Crying out, you attempted to close your legs but his mass made it impossible. You whined at the pain and he did it again. Your clit tingled and was swollen.
“I’m talking to you, pretty girl.”
“S-sorry,” You whined out, not knowing what to respond to.
He only hummed and became transfixed on your clenching cunny. “Let’s see how tight you are.”
Mikey twirled your bundle of nerves a few times before guiding two fingers into your hole. Already wet, he was able to slip in with ease. You moaned, welcoming something filling you. Even if it was him. You gave up a long time ago fighting him and trying to get him to see reason, to see how wrong this all was.
“You’re sucking me in, pretty girl.”
Whining in response, you wiggled your hips for him to move. He huffed a laugh at your impatience. Ignoring you, Mikey went at his own pace. His fingers curled upwards to rub the spongy spot inside you. He was meticulous with how he brought you pleasure. Every nerve was on fire and played with.
Smothering you again, he leaned down so he was nose to nose. You were completely surrounded and displayed for him. Breath mixing, you moaned for him. If it was anyone else the gesture would be loving—romantic, sweet. All it did was leave a bitter taste stuck to the back of your teeth like plaque.
Picking up the pace, he thrusted his fingers with more fervor.
“Can you handle more?”
“Yes,” You broke out.
Glaring down at you, he slowed down, “Yes, what?”
Embarrassed, you looked away for a moment before whispering, “Yes, Manjiro-nii.”
“Good girl.” He smiled—such a rarity these days—ramming his fingers faster once again.
You gripped the bed sheets as he added another finger to the mix. He scissored the appendages, splitting you further. You had no clue how much more you could take. Bucking to his rhythm, you whined wanting him to touch your neglected clit. It twitched and was still puffy from the slaps.
“Please!”
You both knew what you wanted but he steamrolled past your want. He needed to ruin you especially for your clients. You were his. His to break and tear apart until your sloppy cunt was perfect for just him.
Mikey added his pinky to the rest of his fingers and you almost screamed at how you were pried gaping. His fingers were slender but still bigger than yours. Long enough to easily reach your g-spot while you scrambled to brush and pound into it like he does.
“Doing so well, maybe one day I can shove my whole hand inside. Completely ruin you for anyone else,” His words meshed into your lips.
Gazing into him, you tilted your head so your lips brushed together more. Taking the hint, he crashed into you. Whimpering, he slotted his rosy flesh into yours, kissing you feverishly. Your arms came up to grab the sides of his shirt. Mikey finally touched your clit again. You almost screamed when he rubbed circles into the bundle of nerves, tittering you close to the edge.
He abandoned your leg to grip your cheeks, parting from your lips. His eyes went to between your legs to watch how you were taking four of his fingers. A dark patch imprinted on the bed from your slick. Prodding at your spongy spot again along with pressing harder into your clit was too much, you came with a high pitched moan. You were sure everyone in the manor heard it and no one cared. Everyone knew what your brother did to you in the dark.
Mikey guided you through your orgasm, slowing his thrusts until they came to a complete stop. After a moment, he pulled his fingers from your cunt. Your pussy clenched and you whined at becoming empty again.
Your chest stuttered as you tried to gain your breath. Mikey got up to grab a towel nearby and wiped his hand and then between your legs. You flinched from the rough material against the sensitive flesh. He said nothing.
Throwing the rag somewhere in the room, your brother came to lie next to you. He hauled you into his chest and you didn’t refuse. There was no point in fighting. You felt like an egg hatched too early, premature to find your footing. Otherwise, why do you follow a man that wants nothing but the worst for you?
LARVA
You were so sick of the sight of green. Never privy to Spring or Summer, you welcomed Winter’s bitter air with open arms. Though, the bruise was fading into a greenish hue with splotches of purple mixed in. Such a green so unnatural, you couldn’t even compare it to a full apple tree. Subconsciously, you rubbed the skin.
Humming, you idly get ready for bed, already dressed in silk sleepwear. The past week Mikey had neglected you and you savored it. He went through bursts where you weren’t even a thought in his head. A darker part of your mind hoped he would completely forget you. Maybe in a freak accident (you possibly took part in) or he simply got too busy and stayed in his damn office.
As Mikey was preoccupied with whatever gang business, you were back in the full swing of hostess work. There were a few regulars ornery you weren’t available for sleeping with but anytime they got too rowdy, Rindou was sure to give them a firm ‘talking to.’ Rindou was an enigma to you. He was your least favorite of the two brothers, but he never complained when beating up piggish men.
You weren’t stupid enough to think it was any sentiment towards you, but more bloodlust being fulfilled. Rindou was a lot meaner than his older counterpart. While Ran was not a stranger to being touchy and a tease, Rindou was rough with handling you. You often dreaded when Rindou was in charge at the club instead of Ran. At least he pretended to care.
Sometimes, you would imagine Draken instead of Ran as in some twisted way he reminded you of the old friend. Those moments were when you had too much to drink. It still brought you solace, to pretend. You did that a lot.
A knock interrupted you. Your heart skipped a happy beat at the noise. There was only one person in the whole manor who offered you the courtesy. Sitting in front of your personal vanity, you fluffed your hair.
“Come in,” You tried your best to stifle the giddiness.
In came Kakucho not out of his day clothes yet. He wore a dark, silk dress shirt, unbuttoned so his chest was on full display. Your eyes drank up the rippling muscle. The clearing of his throat removed you from the sight. Knowing you were caught, you met his eyes and he gave you a sly grin.
“Subtle.”
“What do I owe the pleasure?” You asked, ignoring his taunt.
“Can I not check on my boss’ most prized possession?”
He walked closer to you as you angled your focus back to yourself in the mirror. Taking a cotton pad from the pack, you finish wiping off the rest of your makeup. It had been a long day. Kakucho came to stand right behind you. Your head was just under his chest while sitting. You felt so small as he crowded you.
Usually you would shake him off, but Kakucho wasn’t stupid. He would visit you in your room where no one would go down the wing you resided in, on the complete opposite of Mikey’s office and bedroom. Sticking closely to the night’s shroud so no one saw him enter.
You scoffed at his words, “Don’t call me that.”
“Hmm,” He hummed, not really listening as he brought a hand down to your neck.
You shivered as his gentle fingers brushed against the tarnished skin. Softer than the rest of the men who touch you—for once, the wound wasn’t agitated. His hand was warm. Kakucho swallowed up your neck, guarding it from any further attack. The weight was safe.
“It’s quite unfortunate that Mikey wouldn’t let me kill him.”
He moved his palm to idly stroke the bruise, transfixed. You gawked at him in the mirror, but he stayed focused on the blemish.
“Please don’t kill for me.”
“So I can kill in general?”
You murmured, “You know that I can’t tell you what to do.”
“Good girl.”
You shivered at the words, “Kakucho…”
He tilted your head back by your chin and rested the rest of his hand on your throat so it was against his stomach and he looked down at you, “Yes?”
“Don’t say things like that.”
His eyebrow quirked up, “Didn’t you just say that you can’t tell me what to do?”
You shook your head to free his hold on you. His taunts were becoming too much. You might be in your bedroom, but who knows who could walk in even when he’s being careful. Reluctantly, you departed from him and attempted to step away from the cushioned stool. You didn’t make it too far when he grabbed the crook of your elbow and spun you around to confront him. Shocked and dizzy, your hands went to his chest to gain some balance.
The skincare and makeup bottles cluttered when he lifted you up on the vanity table. Giving you no time to protest, he crashed into you. Parting your legs, he sank himself into you and pulled you as close as possible. Your lips moved in a familiar rhythm. You whined into the force of the kiss, but you weren’t complaining.
He clutched onto your waist, his hands swallowing you. As if life was mocking you, the sound of your door being kicked in rattled your eardrums. Stood in the doorway was Sanzu, the very last person you wanted to see besides Mikey.
Fear crawled up your spine at the glimmer in his eyes. There was no way for you to explain your way out of this one. Kakucho rapidly stepped away from you. You slipped off the vanity and wiped your mouth as tears bubbled up. In every sense, you were fucked.
Sanzu bounced from Kakucho to you. His features screamed the cat that got the cream. He was elated and he was making it known with the smile of mischief and hatred stretched on his lips.
“Mikey wants everyone to meet up, now.”
With that he walked away, not even closing the door behind him. You ignored Kakucho as he attempted to console you. There was one thing on your mind. Chasing Sanzu who was already halfway down the hall, your feet were quickened patters.
“Sanzu, Sanzu!” You whispered-yelled until you caught up and stood in front of him. Arms spread wide, you tried to stop his path. To humor you, he ceased his movement. “Don’t tell Mikey.”
A grin broke out on his face as he leered down upon you, “Oh yeah and why not? Boss sure is not gonna be happy with you or Kakucho, he might even be mad enough to kill him.”
At that you clutched onto his shirt, knees buckling, “Sanzu, please, I am begging.”
His hand pets the top of your head before wrenching your head back by the hair on the nape of your neck. You gripped harder on his shirt.
“What’s in it for me?” His voice was dripping with temptation.
“I will do anything! Please, I promise, anything you want I will do it.” Tears were streaming down your face.
He stroked a thumb under your eye as the tears flowed, “Anything?”
You nodded despite the hand holding you down. He stared at you for a bit before shoving you away from him.
“Fine, I will hold you to that.”
“Thank you! Thank you,” You sobbed.
He clutched onto your shoulder while steering you to the meeting room, “Don’t thank me just yet.”
The hand and the promise was your leash. Being near Sanzu always had set you on edge as this isn’t the first time he took advantage of you. Gulping down the anxiety, you let him guide you. Further down the hall, Kakucho’s footsteps followed you both. In no time, he was barely a foot behind you, but you didn’t move your head.
The room greeted you. Sanzu held his grip as you both walked in. An oval shaped table filled the room and Mikey sat at the head like a king, chin resting on intertwined fingers. If Sanzu’s clutch bothered him, he displayed no indication of it.
You were beckoned to his side, Sanzu in toe. He rolled out the chair for you and shoved you into the seat. Pushing the chair so far in, you stifled the grunt as the edge crushed your rib cage. Sanzu ignored you as he took the spot to your right.
Kakucho walked in and placed himself in front of you at the table. Even with the distance, you shrank at his presence. He tried his best not to stare too hard.
The other men filed in with Ran sitting next to Sanzu and Rindou next to his brother. Kokonoi sits next to Kakucho with Mochizuku sitting next to him and Takeomi sits next to him, being as far from his younger brother as possible. They were all dressed in fancy suits, compared to you in silk pajamas. If you weren’t out of place enough already. You were rarely let in on meetings, so you were confused.
All heads pivoted to Mikey from the sound of his lips parting like on a timed rig. It was quite creepy how synced they all were.
“As you all know that the current governor is retiring,” He paused as the men nodded, “And he has two candidates of whom he will be offering his position to. Either his son or Tadashi Yuma, a man well known to oppose Bonten. At the current moment, the governor is favoring Mr. Tadashi so as to not be accused of nepotism.”
As he continued to speak, you were only more perplexed. How does elected officials have to do with Bonten and more specially you?
“And what does this have to do with us?” Sanzu asked flippantly, taking the words right from your brain. The man next to you rested his hand on his chin, staring at Mikey with boredom. His other hand crossed the boundary of the chair into yours. Your leg wobbled when his cold palm cupped your knee. You dared not turn your head towards him, instead keeping it down.
“Everything. Tadashi is too far gone to persuade, but the son is both buddy-buddy with the police and known for doing back alley dealing.”
“Everyone has their vices,” Takeomi piped while he plucked a cigarette, earning a giggle from Ran.
Mikey sent a glare to the men before continuing, “If we get the son on our side, we would both have a governor as our puppet ruler and complete control of the police force in Kyoto. This would secure our position further.”
“And where does she fit into all of this?” Rindou questioned, pointing at you with a limp hand.
“If you let me speak, I could fucking tell you.”
As Mikey droned on, Sanzu got more bold and slithered his hand further up your thigh. Your hands were balled into fists at your side. You knew better than to make a scene.
At the aggressive tone, Rindou raised his hands in a surrender, not too bothered. Mikey glimpsed at you and you hoped your expression didn’t betray your discomfort. His gaze conveyed nothing besides you being his focal point for his next sentence.
“This is where she comes in. A couple days from now there will be a gala with politicians and gangsters alike. The rest of us will keep on the downlow while she will do what she does best with the governor’s son.”
You tried your best to listen and nod along as this was not a mission you could mess up on. Sanzu’s wandering hand made it difficult. He moved up your thigh until his pinky was brushing the band of your panties through your thin pants. As his smallest digit went to stroke your slit, he voiced, “She already messed up once, how do you know she won’t do it again?”
Mikey wasn’t ignorant to how your jaw clicked at his mockery. Your nose twitched in irritation and how his finger rubbed up and down your pussy.
“She won’t,” He glowered at Sanzu and then at you, “isn’t that right?”
“Y-yes, Mikey,” You stuttered out.
To anyone else, they would have thought it was because of fear, but you and Sanzu knew better. He did nothing to hide his shit-eating grin. As the focus was no longer on you, he took the incentive to bring a hand down the stretchy band of your pajamas and shove his hand down to cup your bare pussy. Scared, you gripped his wrist to pull it from you. In retaliation, he pinched your clit. Your back slightly hunched, stifling the whimper.
You peeped at him with watery eyes, but his face showed only boredom and focused on Mikey. When you loosened your grip on arm, he eased up. His fingers twirled your clit, a lot rougher than Mikey was. Sanzu poured his hate into you whenever he toyed with you. You have no clue what you did to piss him off, but God were you paying for it.
Dipping into your syrupy cunt, Sanzu shoved two fingers in and curled upwards. Your legs quivered at the stimulation and you sucked your lips in. If you released even a peep, everyone would hear, especially Mikey. And more importantly, Kakucho. At the thought of the man, you peered up to see him but luckily, he was too engrossed in whatever Mikey was explaining.
Sanzu brutally thrust his fingers in and out of you. The squelching was faint and you prayed no one heard over the sound of their boss’ voice. His palm was firm against your clit, but offered little pleasure. A part of you wanted to whine, but you reeled the needy sound in. You'd rather die than let Sanzu know how much he was affecting you.
Your legs squeezed together when he found the spongy spot inside you. He drove his fingers further to abuse the spot. Digging your nails into his wrist, you bucked your hips slightly. Jaw clenched so tight it hurt, you looked up to make eye contact with Mikey. Icy fear washed over you. Luckily the other men were too deep in conversation to notice how Mikey was fixated on your form. You turned away, face warm as he probably knew what Sanzu was doing under the table. Said man only grinned wider.
You dared to observe Kakucho whose nostrils flared. He was trying hard not to appear affected and you prayed he could school his expression as you were both in deep shit with Sanzu knowing. Embarrassed and wanting this to be done, you wiggled your hips to catch your clit against his palm. Sanzu was not having it as he pulled his palm away from your reach. You were tempted to stomp your feet in frustration.
“Dismissed,” Mikey’s demand had your back bolt straight up.
Everyone in the room aside you, Mikey and Sanzu moved to get up. Once the men were at the doorway did Sanzu dislocate his fingers from your soaking cunt. He wiped his fingers against your pants and whispered in your ear, “Remember your promise, Whore.”
At that, he departed with the rest of the men. Only you and Mikey remained, and you refused to peer up. Humiliation rocked you to the core and tears built up behind your eyes.
“Y/n,” he called.
You look up to him. Mikey slid his chair from under the table and tapped his thigh. Completely and utterly violated and shaking in fear, you launch yourself in his lap. You straddled his hips as he pulled you tight to him. Your brother gripped the back of your head to cradle your face into the juncture of his neck. His free hand rested on your lower back, stroking the exposed skin where your shirt rode up.
Hugging his shoulders, you collapsed into him. You let yourself melt into him, molding together until where he started and you stopped was blurred.
“Nervous?”
Your breath tickled his neck, “Yes.”
He hummed at the answer as he gently swayed the chair side to side, rocking you like a baby. He seemed lost in his thoughts. As he swung you both back and forth idly, his grip on your head grew increasingly tighter. When his nails dug into your scalp did you whimper. If he squeezed any tighter, your head would surely pop like a balloon. His strength terrified you.
“Does Sanzu visit you frequently?” He asked, already knowing the answer.
“Manjiro-nii, I-I’m sorry,” You tacked on the honorific to appease him, but he only shushed you.
“You’re both mine, as long as you know your places, I wouldn’t punish you,” you clutch onto him tighter, “you know I do this all to protect you, right?”
His words hinted to the threat of Kisaki coming for you, too. A threat he planted in your head for years now. And of course, he wouldn’t do anything about Sanzu touching you, it was a pipe dream.
“Yes, Manjiro-nii.”
“Good girl, my good little doll.”
CHRYSALIA
You swallowed your nausea, sitting next to Mikey in the car. The model was one of those fancy ones with a divider between the front of the car and the backseat to offer more privacy. Driving the car was Kakucho while Sanzu was in the passenger seat. When the cars were distributed, Sanzu raced to be in the car with you present in it. You knew damn well he was doing it to torment you, and Kakucho being the driver was the frosting on top of the cake.
Sat behind Kakucho, you stared out the tinted window, wringing your hands in your lap. A hand placed on top of yours halted you picking at your cuticles. Mikey ogled at you, a question on his visage. Your eyes lept to the rearview mirror where Kakucho glanced at you and then back to the road.
Sighing, Mikey slammed the divider closed. In the back of the car, you two were the only ones in the world. The thought was isolating. A part of you wanted to embrace the expensive, Italian leather of the car and luxury this life offered. But the larger, more logical part screamed to be anywhere but here.
“Why are you so nervous?” He dared to ask.
Your nostrils flared, “Why the fuck do you think?”
Anger getting the best of you was a rare feat, but not one Mikey tolerated. His grip went from reassuring to punishing. You whined at your bones grinding together. You attempted to extract yourself, but he tugged you closer to him, your hand landing on the middle seat to catch yourself.
“Watch your tone.”
Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you grimace away from him, glaring at the damn leather. He was quick to grab your face to enforce eye contact. His eyes were blank as usual. Dark circles lined his lower lashline. Mikey appeared older than his age. In a fleeting rebellion, you scowled at him with your cheeks clenched in his strong hands. It offered nothing to the older man.
“What you’re asking of me is grandeur, way too much,” You spoke your grievance to a deity who didn’t care to listen.
“I am asking you exactly what I think you can do.”
“Then you think too highly of me,” Your tone was meek.
His thumb went down to rub against your irritated bottom lip, “Maybe.” Mikey’s focus went from your lips to your neck. The bruise was clearing up to an ugly yellowish-green. The pain was also subsiding, only truly hurting if you pressed down hard enough. “Is it healed enough to cover it with makeup?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
You take note of the silent command. For your job this weekend, you are to be an untarnished doll, perfect and pristine. No one wants tarnished goods. At that, Mikey jerked himself from you and opened the divider back open. From your angle, Sanzu pivoted his head to catch your attention.
His visage smug, like he anticipated you to be beaten down. Your ire was now directed towards him. If your fear wasn’t so egregious, maybe you would have spat right into his face. You reeled in the thought, such dangerous thinking would get you killed.
“How much longer?” Mikey asked.
Kakucho answered, “We are actually here.”
The car rolled to a stop. Sanzu was the first to get out and opened Mikey’s door for him. He skid against the seat to step out, and you soon followed. Sanzu rested an arm on top of the door, towering over you as you climbed out.
From the front, Kakucho said, “I will park the car and then head up.”
Mikey nodded his head and somehow Kakucho saw it. The scarred man glanced at you, the connection was broken by Sanzu slamming the door. Jumping, you glared at him. He merely shrugged, loving he got a reaction out of you.
“Come,” Mikey beckoned and you obeyed.
Coming to his heel like a dog, he gently clutched your upper arm. The threat was bellowing. Try and run, and you were done for. Sanzu followed close behind, you walked through the front of the hotel. The building was extravagant and lined with glass. The foyer was even more gorgeous. It was rare for you to leave the clubs or the mansion, so when you were blessed with sights like this, you drank it all in.
The hotel was a palette of golds, whites, and reds. Marbled floors clicked under your heeled feet. Smooth and milky, you stepped with more weight to hear the sound more prominently. You knew the motion was childish, but it was your favorite part of fancy places.
Mikey let you have your fun as you approached the front desk. Rocking on your heels, your head pivoted around to take in the high ceilings lined with crystal chandeliers. Sanzu walked in front of Mikey to discuss with the receptionist your business.
She was kind and you wondered if she knew what kind of men were before her. Does she know the hotel was soon to be riddled with gangsters and greedy politicians? Or is she used to this considering how luxurious the hotel was. She must have seen it all. While she talked to Sanzu, her gaze bounced to your neck. Your hand subconsciously covered it like an animal protecting its jugular.
Mikey’s hand slithered from your arm to the small of your back to direct to where the elevator was. The contraption was one made completely of glass. Approaching the elevator, your heart hopped into your throat, you always hated heights. You three filed in and you observed how the other men were soon to follow. Crammed into the corner, Mikey’s hand slipped away. So tiny compared to the men in tailored suits, you swallowed your rapid breathing.
You stared into Rindou’s back to ground yourself. Recoiling at the pinky that brushed your hands, you side-eyed who touched you. Kakucho offered nothing and neither did you. You silently relaxed into the appendage. The motion was a risky one, but all the men were watching the numbers tick up. The red numerals dinged with every floor hit until you were at the penthouse, the tippy top of the already tall building.
When the doors opened up the billowing hallway greeted you all. Parading out, the air got less suffocating as you followed them. Soft carpet was now under your feet and you were saddened by the fact. An intricate pattern was woven into the burgundy thread, lined with gold.
The men all went into their respective rooms to prepare for tonight. There was an hour until the show began. Mikey guided you to the room at the furthest part of the hall. At the end was a table with swirling designs, just as gold and red as the carpet. He took the key card from his pocket and tapped it to the pin pad.
Of course, you would share a room with your brother. The room was as splendid as the rest of the hotel. A canopy bed framed with wine hued, velvet curtains with just as dark bed sheets. Two cushioned, gold trimmed chairs face a small, mahogany round table. To the right was a bathroom along with a dresser the same wood as the table. Curious, you went to the bathroom that was huge. A bathtub that could be mistaken as a hot tub was deep into the floor that was black and light grey marble. To the left of the tub was a sink and a giant, oval mirror lined with a whirling almost cloud-like pattern surrounding it.
From your backside, Mikey’s shoes tapped against the marble, pleasant to your ears. His arms wrapped around you and you offered no resistance.
“Is it to your liking?” His breath tickled your neck, your hair stood up.
“Yes.”
Humming, he rocked you two side to side, “I’m glad. I would give you anything you asked for.”
A sad simper graced your appearance. He would, as long as it was materialistic. Your brother couldn’t give you what you desired most as it meant you would be far, far away from him.
He extracted himself from you and offered a hand. You took it as he led you back to the main part of the suite. All of your belongings were already placed in the room. On the door was your dress for tonight. The gown was a midnight color and floor length with a satin finish. A sweetheart neckline paired with off the shoulder sleeves and slit that came up to your hip, with the amount of skin to be exposed, you were glad the gala was inside the same hotel.
Mikey had a suit that matched your dress, everything down to the tie was all black. Directing to where the gown hung, he began to undress you. Unlike him, in his usually baggy shirt and joggers, you kept up appearances. He shrugged off your coat and threw it on the bed. Bending down, he tapped his knee. Listening, you placed your boot on his leg and your hands on his shoulders to balance. At this point, it’s second nature. Nimble fingers untied the laces and hauled the shoe from your foot. He repeated the action on the other side.
Standing back up, you kept your hands on him. Neither of you said anything. Mikey continued undressing you, unbuttoning your pants until they pooled at your feet. Next was your dress shirt that was a blushing pink. He popped every button with ease and tugged the garment down like he did your coat. From your front, he reached around to unhook your bra with zero struggle. Soon you were left in just your panties, but there was nothing sexual about it.
He went to the door to grab the gown and weeded it from the protective plastic. Back down on his knees, he tapped your bare calf. Taking the hint you stepped in the dress and he jerked it up your body. In tandem, you put your arms into the sleeves when he reached your chest. His hand lingered to drag a finger up the length of your spine. Your back twitched upright. Mikey didn’t tease you anymore and zipped the dress up.
The air was stifling, but you pushed it to the side. He went about his own business to get ready as well. Going into your luggage, you gathered your jewelry and makeup bag. Your feet glided to the bathroom and welcomed the cold of the marble tiles. Walking up to the mirror, you take your color corrector and foundation to hide the bruise. The color reminded you of when you were a kid and you would put a dandelion under your chin to see if you liked butter if the skin bloomed yellow.
The makeup did its job well enough, but you added a lace collar to hide the blemish further. Your hands shook as you clasped it in place. A lot of weight was placed on you tonight and the rest of the gala. You couldn’t mess this up.
A rapping on the hotel door spiked your heart rate up. There was no more pushing it off. Walking out from the bathroom, Mikey and Kakucho were talking. They cease their conversation to see you in your glory. While Mikey’s expression softened, Kakucho was stone cold. He knew what tonight meant and he despised when you worked.
“You ready?” Kakucho asked.
“One moment,” You went back to your luggage to pull a pair of designer heels from a box and slipped them on. They barely added any height, maybe about an inch.
Both men were dressed to the nines. Kakucho forgone a tie and vest to leave his chest on display as usual. You forced your focus to Mikey’s face. He looked good in a suit. Perfectly tailored to his form, you couldn’t even tell how skinny the man had become.
Ready, you followed the men out of the room and back to the hellish elevator. The rest of Bonten was already at the gala hosted in the ballroom and bar of the hotel. Everyone was in their positions, it was time for you to slide against the board to your place. Mikey was playing a game of chess and you were mere pawns to his goal.
Balling and releasing your hand, you stepped into the elevator.
“Y/n,” Mikey called and you turned to him. “What is expected of you?”
Clearing your throat, your relayed the mission, “I am to scope out the governor’s son and entertain him by any means necessary.”
The words hurt to say. This would be the first job since the incident where you were expected to sleep with a client. Mikey picked apart at how you clenched up.
“Don’t let last time become a pattern.”
Jutting out your jaw, you bit out, “Yes, Mikey.”
At your words, the elevator doors parted and you were hit with the buzz of people mingling. You three went your own ways to fulfill the mission. With fervor, you crossed the foyer into the ballroom. There was no bodyguard to check if you were meant to be there. Being in the hotel was more than enough of an indicator of your importance. Needing a drink before you advanced your hunt, you clomped to the bar.
Already in full swing, it was near impossible to flag down a bartender. You huffed in irritation, a pout on your lips.
“No luck?” A voice asked to your right.
You jolted and spun around to see a handsome, older man inclining against the bar, his focus completely on you. He was far older than the other men in Bonten, maybe close to Takeomi’s age, but definitely in his forties. His hair was parted to the side with it pleasantly slicked back and an inky hue. A pair of glasses framed his kind face though something darker lurked in how he smiled.
Slapping your work persona on, you pouted further, “Not at all.”
He laughed at your tone. “Didn’t expect it to be so busy so soon?”
“Can you read my mind?” You playfully teased.
He leaned in closer, already enjoying the game you started. “Don’t need to with how obvious your pout is.”
Rolling your eyes, you scoffed.
He took the sound in stride, “What drink does the princess want?”
You stuffed down how you wanted to retch at the nickname. Men are so easy. Tapping your lip, you pretend to think, “How about a whiskey sour?”
“Consider it done.”
You were prepared to swallow the second-hand embarrassment when he was going to act more important than he was, but the second he raised his hand a bartender was flocking towards him. Your eyebrows raised at the display.
“What can I get you, Sir?”
“A whiskey sour for the lady and scotch for me, please.”
“Right away.”
He turned back to you, a smug glimmer in his eyes, “Impressive, right?”
“Can’t say it isn't,” You propped your hip against the barstool and pivoted all your attention to him. He was obviously a man of importance, but you wanted him to admit it to you.
“Just the perks of being the guest of honor,” he bragged, but it wasn’t bloated, moreso whimsy.
“Guest of honor?” You teased, suspicious.
“Not too fond of politics I presume.”
“Never really cared for it, no,” You rebounded back at him.
His eyebrow raised, he knew more than he let on and so did you. “You really don’t know who I am?”
You stifled the smirk.
Leaning into your ear, he whispered, “Fukuda Daiki. Ring a bell?”
Bingo.
“Ahh!” You proclaimed, “You’re the governor’s son, no?”
The bartender came back with both your drinks. He grabbed his and slightly raised it in the air to point at himself, “In all my glory.”
“Alright then, Mr. Fukuda, why are you amongst the common folk?”
His free hand waved flippantly, “Please, call me Daiki, Mr. Fukuda is too stuffy.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Daiki,” You called out.
Shining in interest, he seemed oddly pleased, “Well, if you want to know so bad, why don’t we go somewhere more private.”
Taking his lead, you knocked back the rest of your drink and placed your hand in his outstretched one. The crowd parted for him and you caught the eye of Mikey. He clutched his glass, watching as Daiki took you to the more secluded areas of the bar. Further down was a darkened area with velvet booths. Many officials and gangsters conversed about who knows what.
You slid into the seat and he mirrored you on the other side. Surprisingly, he kept a respectable distance. The older man gestured towards the wine in a bucket of ice. You nodded your head. He grabbed the two glasses and began pouring the blood-like liquid into the cups for each of you.
Taking your own, you took a sip and savored the deep flavor. He did the same.
“So what is so secretive that you had to pull me into the shadows?” You questioned over the rim.
He smacked his lips together, before answering, “When your father is as important as mine is, you have to be careful. Let’s just say, I like to dabble in unsavory hobbies. To watch my back, I have to watch other’s.”
The governor’s son’s words were cryptic, but you understood what he was putting down. You knew full well the type of ‘hobbies’ he engaged in, that’s why you were here, in this fancy hotel filled with fancy people.
You crossed your legs and purposely had the tip of your heel glide against his shin. Bending over with your cleavage on display, you quipped, “What kind of unsavory hobbies.”
His eyes bounced to your exposed chest and back to you, “I think you know already.”
A smirk played on your lips as you took another sip of your drink. The warmth was starting to hit you. More hazy than before, you continued your game, “And would you want me to contribute to this hobby?”
His throat bobbed, his head probably already filled with images of you in precarious positions. “Who wouldn’t.”
The sentiment caught you slightly off guard and you instinctively smiled at the compliment. Not many men were so upfront with how much they found you attractive. The words were often crude and straight to the point.
Thinking of an answer, your eyes strayed to the rest of the party. Back to where most of the gaggle was, Takeomi was conversing with Daiki’s father. The old man let out a full belly laugh and clapped a hand onto Takeomi’s shoulder. You could assume his part of the mission was falling into place. Persuade him to elect his son while you entrance the son to favor Bonten, a neat domino effect.
Angling your focus back to the man in front of you, you told him your thoughts. “Not many men are so sweet with their words.”
Daiki laughed, content that he appeased you. He opened his mouth, but was interrupted by his phone ringing. “Hold that thought.”
When he answered the phone, his expression fell and sighed. After telling whoever was on the other line he would be right there and hung up, he placed his phone on the table.
"I must go."
"Oh," You answered sadly, but your heart skipped a beat in fear.
"Will I see you again this weekend?"
"If you are willing."
He got up from his seat and knocked his knuckle against the table, contemplating. "Meet me here again, tomorrow night."
"I look forward to it."
And with that he was gone, fading into the crowd of people. Finally alone with yourself, you slouched into the seat and heavily exhaled. You dropped your face into your hands, careful not to ruin your makeup. Groaning, you goggled your wine glass, contemplating if you should finish it off or not.
Before you could settle on a decision a familiar, obnoxious voice came barrelling towards you. Sanzu with a girl tucked under his arm and Mikey in toe came to disturb your moment of peace. The pink haired man slid in, the girl following him. Mikey went to your other side, trapping you to the booth.
Sanzu slung his arm over your shoulder and wrenched you to him. He was obviously cross faded, his pupils blown out and alcohol tainted his breath.
“So our little star of the show, how did it go?” The implication of did you fuck up again hung in the air.
“Good. He had to leave, but he asked to meet again tomorrow night.”
He bobbed his head enthusiastically, a hum as his answer. You turned to Mikey to see if you gained his approval. He conveyed nothing, staring at Sanzu’s arm around your neck. Prickling, you tried to rip it off you, but Sanzu only culled you closer.
“I think that calls to celebrate.”
He reached over to grab the wine in the middle of the table and offered it to you. You shook your head, trying to pull away. His forearm dug into your larynx, choking you. Putting the cork between his teeth, he ripped it off and spat it out somewhere into the room.
“Come on, Whore, drink.”
Sanzu shoved the bottle into your mouth and tipped it so the wine spilled into your mouth faster than you could swallow. You clawed at his arm and kicked your feet while your eyes clenched closed. The girl, too high to think, started to chant for you to chug.
The liquid spilled from the corners of your mouth and down your neck, staining your dress. You whimpered and squirmed, but you were helpless. Like an animal on its back, you lashed out and rammed your elbow so hard into Sanzu’s stomach, he coughed. Naturally, he removed himself from you and cradled his stomach, keeled over.
“You fucking bitch!”
The sound of you dry heaving drowned out his indignant cries. Mikey did nothing as you pushed past the need to vomit. Bored of you already, Sanzu went back to entertaining the girl. You were a mess.
Tears flowed over and you glared into your lap, sticky and wet. Your brother blew out a puff of air and moved to get out of the booth.
“Let's get you cleaned up.”
Following his lead, you both left Sanzu to his own devices. He was no help now, anyway. Wiping your cheeks in an attempt to save some piece of dignity, you followed him back into the foyer and into the elevator.
The dinging of each floor was monotonous. When you reached your floor, you basically ran back in the room. Mikey opened the door with ease. While you took off your collar, he peeled the blazer off. He must have felt as stuffy as you did with all the layers constricting him.
“Go run a bath, I will join you in a second.”
Never one to disobey his orders, you were happy to take a soak in the affluence tub. Skinning the soaked dress from you, you mourn the garment. You only hoped, you could get the stains out somehow.
Walking over to the knobs, you rotate them both, favoring the hot valve. While the water ran, you took the fancy bottles and poured soap in the mix. As the bath frothed, you stripped your panties off.
The water was at sufficient height so you twisted the knobs to their former state. Your foot reeled back at the heat, but you urged your way in. The bubbly, hot water hugged you and you moaned in relief. You sunk into the deep tub until only your head popped out.
Mikey appeared once again, this time adorned in his undone shirt and pants. Swimming to the edge of the bath, you watched as he shrugged off his shirt. Along with the Bonten tattoo at the nape of his neck, a tiger in a classic yakuza style art spanned the whole length and width of his back. The tattoo was paired with swirling lilies. Even though Mikey had lost weight, his back rippled with muscle.
He shredded his pants and boxers as well. You averted your gaze when his cock came into view. Despite being flaccid, you could tell he was on the bigger side. Swimming to the other side, you gave him enough room to step in. He, too, welcomed the warmth of the bath and sunk down beside you.
Mikey tugged and manhandled you until your back rested against his chest. You slipped down a little and he comfortably rested his chin on top of your head. Chin in the water, you blew at the bubbles that floated near you. Arms wrapped tight around your chest and stomach, you melted further into him. There was nowhere else to go.
“How did the mission really go?”
Whatever serenity you had was zapped from you. You bristled, “I wasn’t lying.”
He hummed in response.
You pulled away from him and endured him head on, a grimace on your visage and pressed, “I’m not lying.”
“I never said you were.”
Kneeling between his legs, he caged you in.
“You’re implying it.”
He turned you back around and went back to hugging you. Mikey exhaled and sagged into your hair.
“Does Sanzu do that often?” He changed the subject.
“Torment me?” You scoffed.
“I suppose.”
Another mass of bubbles drifted by you and you cupped it. Spinning in Mikey’s hold, you placed the bubbles onto his head. He offered a nostalgic smile.
Morphing the tiny air pockets into a cone shape, you answered, “Sanzu hates me and has no qualms making it known.”
“I will speak to him about it.”
Your hands stopped. “Don’t.”
“And why not?”
“Because then he’s just going to do it more, but in secret. You know very well, better than most, how hard it is to reel Sanzu in.”
He gripped your wrists and kissed your knuckles. The same feeling from earlier today drifted back in. It was in rare moments did you find comfort with him. But you weren’t fooled, not by his caring and attentive words. You were no better than a butterfly pinned to a bulletin board.
IMAGO
Tonight was the last night of the gala. A lot of weight was on your shoulders to seal the deal with the governor’s son. The ballroom was bustling and in full swing. All the booths were filled to the brim, the gaggle of designer clothes and pearl necklaces suffocated. This life wasn’t meant to be yours, but here you were, meeting a politician for the third night in a row.
In spite of the circumstances, you liked his company. You knew full well he indulged in flesh and drugs, but he was kind. A kindness rarely offered to you. He knew what you were and you knew what he craved, there was no lingering, unspoken tension.
He enjoyed the game you played, the back and forth. Will he seal the deal or won’t he? A small part of you wondered if Daiki did this to keep your attention. Well, he had it.
Resting your hand on your chin, you smiled at him.
“What?”
You tilted your head, “You know if you closed the deal with Bonten, you could have me whenever you wanted.”
Usually you would beat around the bush more, but you were on a tight schedule and Mikey’s glare burned into your temple. From across the room, up on the balcony, he wasn't subtle with how he stared.
Daiki’s face rose in surprise, “Oh?”
“Mhmm,” you crooned, “not just me, but any girls in the clubs, you could have without having to be sneaky. Bonten is all about secrecy. Nothing you want to be exposed, won’t. You rub our backs, we rub yours.”
He adjusted his glasses, “And where does this all lead to? I could have the same offer from any other gang.”
“But will any other gang secure your place as governor of Kyoto?” You were making a huge gamble giving away Bonten’s hand, but there was nothing else you could say. Your hand was a dud.
“You’re promising a very dangerous thing, Love,” His voice had an edge, both a threat and anticipation. He wanted what you dangled in front of his face, but, he too, didn’t know it was worth the risk.
“I am not promising, I am telling you. You will win this election with Bonten’s help and in return you will solidify Bonten’s safety. We know you run the police force.”
He dropped his head and took his glasses off. Running a hand down his face, he seemed tired. As you went to survey Mikey, your eye caught something else.
A jolt sent your body into overdrive. Though his hair was longer, you couldn’t miss the black and yellow strands. The colors swirled and plagued your dreams for years. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get him out of your mind. The smile, the tattoos, and the audible clunk of metal against bone.
Quite frankly, you had been in a haze for years but seeing Hanma’s visage woke you up. It all came crashing into you: why you were here, who was the source of this. And why your darling older sister was dead and you paid the price for it.
To the others far up in the balcony, they wouldn’t recognize him. His hair was no longer short and covered most of his visage. Hanma’s hands were tucked into his pockets as he glided through the crowd. You did a double take. It couldn’t be him, you refused to believe it.
Dread filled your stomach and the wine wasn’t helping. Glancing back up at the balcony, Mikey was gone. You were on your own.
“You alright?” Daiki’s voice reeled you from your stupor.
Regarding him, you were angry. Angry that you had to sell yourself to secure safety for a gang who offered you nothing. You looked back to see Hanma’s figure round the corner, away from the bustle. Sure, you were terrified, but you needed to know.
“I’m sorry,” Was all you said as you whisked yourself away from the booth.
He called for you, but you breezed past him. With Mikey no longer watching, the leash was slacked. You shoved past the people, not caring about their spitting complaints. For once in your life, you clawed and tore towards what you wanted. Your vision tunneled onto his form. Everything was tight and the air thinned, either from the bodies pressed into you or the anxiety.
Like a caterpillar popping out of a cocoon, you were spat out from the horde. The hallway was barely away from the party with the sounds of laughing present in your ears. You walked further down until you were a different part of the hotel. It was hardly secluded, anyone could walk in, but it was far enough no one would notice you were gone.
There, reclined against the wall was the very man responsible for your torment. Sure, Kisaki was the one who commanded the hit, but Hanma was the executioner. Nothing really changed about him besides he visibly looked drained. He said nothing while he leered at you.
“Why?” Your voice tumbled out weaker than you intended.
“Why what?” He dared to say.
You stomped right up to him and screeched, “Why! Why, why, why, why?” Each word was emphasized with a hit to his torso.
Hanma did nothing to stop you and peered down from over his nose with zero empathy. You were breaking, both you and him knew it.
“After all these years, you dared to show your face after what you and Kisaki did. Do you understand what I had to go through because Mikey was terrified of you and Kisaki would come for me, too? Where is he anyway, hiding under your skirts like the coward he is?”
Hanma tilted his head in confusion, “Kisaki’s dead. Had been for almost a decade. Mikey was there when he died.”
You stumbled back. You shook your head, “No, no, no. You’re lying.”
“Why would I lie about my own best friend being dead? That’s too cruel, even for me.”
A laugh pierced your chest. You doubled over and clutched your stomach as more giggles poured out. All this time, he was lying to you. There was never a boogey man in the shadows waiting to gobble you up.
Catching your breath, you asked between cackles, “And why are you here, just to torment me? Haven’t you done enough?”
Hanma’s face twitched, “No, I’m here for another reason. Us meeting is purely a coincidence.”
A part of you didn’t want to believe him. Everything you had been told for years had been a lie. Rapid footsteps came from the other hall, sending Hanma into motion. You didn’t even watch as he disappeared, not even caring when rough hands spun you around.
“What the fuck did you do?” Kakucho seethed.
You could only laugh as tears painted your appearance, your perfect makeup ruined. “How long?”
“What?”
“How long did you know that Kisaki was dead,” You spat out the last word.
Kakucho’s nose scrunched, “How-?”
“How do I know? Because Hanma fucking Shuji just told me. He was just here!”
You started to spiral again and Kakucho shook you, trying to get you to snap out of it. “That doesn’t matter. Do you understand how much you fucked up? Mikey is pissed!”
At the sound of your brother’s name, you hiccupped. It was all happening too fast, it was too much. “I’m s-sorry.”
Kakucho beckoned you into his embrace. His thick arms squeezed you tight to his chest as if he could protect you in his rib cage. Heaven knew how much he wanted to save you from Mikey. He was just as terrified for you since Mikey was on a warpath. Half of him wanted to advocate for you, but if he did, then he would expose you both.
But, the click of a gun being cocked back went straight through his body. He sagged against you, knowing the jig was up and so did you. From over Kakucho’s shoulder was your brother, a pistol greeted you.
Separating from Kakucho, you both confronted him dead on. Nothing in him wavered as he kept the gun pointed at you. Your knees buckled and you almost pissed yourself with his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.
“Not even going to try and explain yourself?”
Like a kicked dog, you only whimpered out a pathetic, “No.”
“You know Sanzu told me to watch out for Kakucho,” your head sprung up at that, betrayed that he tattled anyway. You should have known better, “But I really wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. Now look at what you made me do.”
He flicked his wrist over to Kakucho instead of you. “Wait!” You screeched as you put yourself in front of Kakucho. “Don’t do this.”
“And why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t I teach a cheating, lying whore like you a lesson?”
You bit your tongue not to froth that he had been the one lying to you the whole time.
“You need Kakucho! Don’t let this cloud the fact you need him to keep Bonten at the top.” He kept the gun raised and you started to get frantic. “Manjiro-nii, please!”
Silver metal stared you down. Mikey growled before uncocking the gun and shoving it into the back of his pants. Stomping towards you, he snagged your arm and ripped you from Kakucho. You dared not glance back at him. Mikey was volatile as is.
“We will just discipline you in a different way then.”
Your hand was going numb, losing circulation with how tight he cuffed you. As you both turned the corner, he whipped his head back to Kakucho and barked, “We aren’t done here.”
Kakucho nodded his head solemnly, accepting his fate. Departing away from him, you stared straight ahead. You refused to let your possible last moment with Kakucho with him so defeated.
Mikey walked you both into the throes of the gala. You squirmed, embarrassed you were being tugged along like a misbehaving child. Some people watched in curiosity of the woman with streaky makeup passing by, others were too indulged in their drinks.
“Let me go,” You begged.
“Quiet.”
You clamped your mouth shut. As you crossed the room, you passed by Sanzu. His snickers rang in your ear. Seething, you attempted to turn and bark at him, but Mikey snuffed your chance. He moved his hand to clamp on your nape, forcing your head down.
“Manjiro,” You said, your neck creaked from the motion.
His fingernails bit into the flesh, “Didn’t I tell you to keep your mouth shut.”
Cutting across through the foyer, you nodded your head as you went to the elevator. The elevators yawned to let you in and luckily you two were alone. It's not like anyone would come to help you.
Mikey’s palm was a hot iron. The numbers ticked up and you were restricted to stare at the floor. You couldn’t even see the expression he was making, for better or for worse. When the elevator stretched to accommodate you two, Mikey shoved you out. His heels clicked against the marble, but this time it brought no satisfaction.
Ripping the hotel door open, he threw you so hard you stumbled over your heels and fell. Your hip and elbow took the brunt of the fall. Like a worshiper at the feet of their god, you gazed up at Mikey. If only you knew how pretty the lighting made you.
“Stay here and don’t fucking move. I have to now clean up the mess you created. I have been too lenient with you and I guess Kakucho, too.”
“Don’t hurt him!” You cried as you crawled to hug his leg, “Please.”
His eyes were an inky apathy. He kicked you off him, “You aren’t in the place to make such demands.”
Coughing, you curled into a ball at the hit to your vulnerable stomach. Leaving you to rot, he slammed the door closed. There was a strange beep and a rock slipped into your stomach. Scrambling to stretch yourself up, you raced to the hotel door. You rattled the knob and were met with resistance. Why you were surprised he found a way to child-lock the door is beyond you.
“Manjiro! Manjiro, open the door!” You screamed and pounded on the door. Even going to the extent to slam your shoulder against it, but by now he was long gone. You were trapped.
You marched away from the slab of wood and began to pace. Pulling at your strands, you heaved a primal screech. The world was falling out from under you. Collapsing on the bed and hanging your head in your hands, nothing made sense. Well, it made perfect sense. Mikey had been lying to you for years and same with Kakucho. The latter broke more than the former.
And now, because of you, Kakucho was going to be slaughtered. You flew too close to the sun and he was the one being burned.
Kisaki hadn’t been a threat for a decade, Hanma said. So when Mikey swiped you from your life, it was all fallacies to entrap you in his ever growing web. Walking to the window, you tried to wipe away his sticky residue.
You knew it was pointless to try and escape. Peering out the glass, it was a long way down with no way of surviving the jump. For a brief moment you contemplated doing it anyway. A darker, more vengeful part of you wanted to do it out of pure spite for Mikey pushing you over the edge. Though, no matter what, you couldn’t do that to him. The aftermath would be atomic.
With nothing else to do, you went back to the bed and sank into the sheets. Your leg shook the frame from your anxiety. You felt like you were being sent to the gallows and you might as well be.
Hours later a familiar beeping bellowed in the vacant cage. Springing up, Mikey walked through the door, more haggard than before. Your eyes flew all over his frame to sniff out a spot of blood. You sagged your shoulders when you found nothing.
Besides that, you didn’t move an inch. You kept your eyes on him like a nervous dog. No words were exchanged as he strolled over to the bed. At the elevated height difference, you craned your neck to hold his gaze. His eyes were the same empty void. He gripped your chin to demand contact.
Mikey’s thumb trailed down the basically healed bruise, a soft yellow visible. He dug the appendage into your jugular until you instinctively flinched back. Your hands shot up to grab his wrist. This only angered him further and he shook your face.
Whimpering, you scrunched your nose from the pain.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He fumed, bending down at the waist to bump his nose to yours.
“You’re hurting me!”
He only tightened his grip, “Good. I had to clean up your mess, again.”
“You wouldn’t have to if you didn’t force me into this life.”
“Oh boo hoo, how awful of me to protect you.”
You slapped his wrist and kicked into his thigh, “You weren’t protecting me at all! You’re sick and only want me for yourself.”
Mikey twisted your arm and shoved you into the bed with your face smushed into the sheets. “Maybe so.”
He pulled you up until your back was against his chest. Clamping his hand against your nape once more, he directed you to the door.
“W-where are we going?”
“I said I was going to punish you, didn’t I?”
You did not like the implications of his words, at all. In no time you were back at the gala. The crowd hadn’t thinned out, laughter polluted the air. Mikey took you to a different direction than the booths, and up the stairs to the balcony. Watching over the masses, the twisting, golden railing was more a cage than anything.
He guided you further down the hall until you hit an archway with an unassuming door. At the frame was Sanzu waiting for you both. Your heart dropped into your stomach, to be eaten by the acid. His smile was wolfish and hungry. Today was the day Sanzu had been anticipating for God knows how long.
More lamb than human, you shrunk back, terrified of what laid await in the den. Sanzu twisted the door open with apparent giddiness. The room was similar to the hotel rooms, but obviously for private lounging rather than a sleeping area. Velvet sofas similar to the booths crowded around a coffee table.
On one sofa were the Haitani Brothers with Kakucho between. The couch was wide enough for all of them to manspread. Rindou had a bored expression, resting his chin against his fist with his elbow on the arm of the couch. Ran was the more giddy of the two, like a kid on Christmas. And Kakucho, your sweet Kakucho, was so crushed. A black eye swelled his scarred eye shut. At least it wasn’t his seeing one.
Sanzu basically skipped to the chair by the couch. Cozying up into the velvet, he placed his hands on his lap, shoulders shuddering in delight. “Let’s get this started.”
“Shut the fuck up, Sanzu,” Mikey ordered.
Said man, brought you to the couch across from where the other man sat. Sanzu closed his mouth, but wasn’t offended in the slightest. Of course, he wouldn’t, he was too far up Mikey’s ass.
Mikey sat down while he brought you between his thighs, facing him. He ran his hand up and down your waist. Whatever was going on, you weren’t liking it.
“Undress.”
Silence filled the room. Your jaw dropped, agape and in awe.
“What?”
His hand dug into the meat of your hips, “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Mikey’s word was law. Already shaking in fear, you brought your hand to the zipper in the back and slid it down while staring him down. He matched your glower. The dress fell limp and flowed until it pooled at your feet.
Knowing that you facing him gave you the confidence to strip, your brother spun you around. This was supposed to be a punishment and he wanted you to bathe in every bit of humiliation.
Arrayed in just your bra and panties, you were tempted to cover yourself up. The other men tore into you with their famished eyes. Sanzu was especially elated. He never relished in anything more than your ignominy. Behind you, Mikey unhooked your bra. He tugged it off roughly and you almost stumbled at the jab.
You would think after years of undressing for countless people, embarrassment would have left your system, but your cheeks steamed. Ran adjusted himself in his seat. Out of the men in the room, only the Haitani Brothers haven’t seen you naked. Not wanting to dip in their own supply or whatever other degrading language they used. At the end of the day, you were merely trade to them.
Rindou indicated the most disinterested out of them all. His eyes drooped down in boredom. Despite that, those purple irises trailed up and down your form. Kakucho was downright miserable. His face was twisted in a mix of anger and shame.
Mikey then shedded your last bit of armor. He was just as rough with ripping off your panties. You wanted to curl in on yourself. The sound of Mikey wrenching off his tie had you perk up. What is he doing?
Your arms were strained behind you, forced to sit parallel to each other. He wrapped the black tie around your forearms multiple times until they were almost fully covered and finished it off with a tight tie. You wiggled your wrists, scared.
“What are you doing?” You tried to spin around but Mikey didn’t allow it.
He manhandled you into his lap. “Quiet.”
You squirmed more, “No! Stop it.”
He swung one leg over your thighs to keep you still. None of the men moved to help either you or Mikey. They were there to enjoy the show. Mikey unbuckled his belt and ripped it from the belt loops. He growled when it got caught at the last hoop. Tears built up at the thought of him using it on you, so you struggled more.
“Relax.”
His words were no help. He raised the belt and you just about screamed, but he looped the belt around your throat. Mikey was surprisingly gentle when he thread the leather through the metal and tugged until it was firm against your neck. He spun his hand around the belt, like a leash.
“Good dog,” He praised with no emotion.
Mikey fixed you properly on his lap so your ass perked up. With his free hand, he rubbed up and down your bottom. You rested your forehead on the couch. A scream ripped through you followed by a sob when his palm slapped into the fat of your ass. The sound was muffled by the furniture and Mikey wasn’t having it.
Yanking the belt, he pressed your head to face the men.
"Now you want to act all shy? Not too long ago you were whoring yourself out to my men," His tone conveyed the anger he kept at bay.
Your eyes met Kakucho before you looked down in shame. He slapped you again and a sob broke out.
“He barely started and you already look this pathetic?” Sanzu teased vindictively.
You gritted your teeth when Mikey hit harder and to keep from falling for Sanzu’s bait. He was right, your brother barely commenced and you were in agony.
“How long?” Mikey asked.
Dropping your head, you were perplexed, “What?”
“How long,” He heeded Kakucho, “were you two going behind my back.”
“Ten months,” Kakucho answered for you and you collapsed further.
Mikey dug his nails into the meat of your thigh. It stung and you tried to have him release you. Anger bubbled over and he smacked your thigh so hard the air left your lungs.
“Ten months, you were fucking my Number Three without my knowledge. I ought to fucking murder you both, but I decided to be merciful,” He looked directly at you, “say thank you.”
“Thank you,” He dug his nails further, “T-thank you, Manjiro-nii.”
Ran laughed at that, “Wow, you are sick.”
Mikey ignored Ran, too focused on you. “I think ten strikes would make it sink in. Count or else I will start from the beginning.”
You trembled, not once has Mikey ever gotten violent with you. He wasn’t kind by any means, but he wasn’t one for physical punishments.
His hand striked where his nails culled blood from your skin and you screamed, he wasn’t holding back.
“Count, I won’t remind you again.”
“O-one! I’m sorry.”
He cooed, “I liked the apology, add that onto it.”
Clenching your restrained hands into balls, you prepared for the next hit. Muscles strung too tight like a bow. Drawing it out, Mikey waited until your tendons grew tired of being strained did he slap you. His palm hit your ass this time.
“Two, I’m sorry!”
He rubbed out the heat radiating from your bottom, but it only irritated it more. Against your stomach, his bulge poked you. Your squirming was giving him some sort of relief. Your sobs sparked his chest to heave, short of breath.
Pushing the thought away, he went back to your punishment. He striked your right cheek in the same place twice and you kicked your feet.
“Three, Four, I’m sorry.”
Snot poured from your nose and into the couch. The world started to blur from the pain. You weren’t even half way through it and you don’t know if you can handle anymore. Mikey hit your left cheek this time, more towards your back than your thighs.
“Five, I’m sorry,” You whimpered.
Your brother dragged the makeshift leash so you faced him. His gaze inhaled your broken expression. Makeup, tears and snot was smeared all over your visage. To him, you never looked so beautiful.
“Such a good dog for me.”
Those words only made it worse. Out of your peripheral, Mikey’s hand raised and hit the middle of your ass, irritating both already smarting cheeks.
“S-six, I’m sorry!”
He tugged the belt again and you scanned at the other men. Sanzu was cupping his hardened cock and Ran was no better. He rubbed the heel of his palm into his crotch through his dress pants. Rindou was now leaned over, elbows on his knees. Kakucho has his fists in his lap. He looked about ready to spring up and pull you from Mikey’s lap. But the matching bulge in his pants gave away, in a sick way, he was enjoying the display.
You screeched when Mikey spanked you with no warning. Your head fell back down and you groaned, feet curled in.
“Numb—” Mikey started, but you cut him off.
“Seven, seven! I’m sorry, please don’t start over, I can’t,” You groveled.
“Don’t let it happen again,” Instilling the lesson, he spanked you with fervor.
Crying, a headache forming, you sobbed, “Eight, I’m sorry.”
You were so close to being done, but the knowledge only made it worse. Mikey was in a cruel mood and he was going to drag this out until he was satisfied. He pinched the fat of your ass, humming when you yelped. He trailed his focus down to between your legs. Deft fingers dipped into where your cunt was. To your misfortune, wetness built up from his actions.
“Are you seriously wet from this?” He mocked.
“S-stop it.”
Mikey shoved two fingers into your hole, your butt raised up in shock. “Don’t act like you aren’t enjoying this.”
Your syrupy cunt sucked him in as he scissored his fingers. He watched in fascination as your hole gaped slightly for him. Twisting the appendages, he was sure to brush against your g-spot, but offered no real stimulation. You canted your hips up more, begging for something, anything.
He ripped his fingers from you and slapped his hand down so hard, it licked your tailbone. Screaming, you kicked your feet at the ache shooting up your spine.
“Nine, I’m sorry!”
Mikey wasn’t going to be merciful. The same fingers coated in your slick brushed over your tailbone and slotted between the cleft of your ass. Your thighs clenched in fear. He momentarily dropped the leash to pry your leg open. Nails digging into the meat, you shuttered when his fingers stroked your untouched back hole. He did nothing more than press into the puffy ring.
“Fuck,” A voice grunted at the other side of the room. It sounded like Ran, but you weren’t positive.
Mikey didn’t dip in and moved his attention back to your cunt. “For another day,” He promised.
Scooping more of your slick from you, he drifted to your clit and swirled. He plucked moans from you and had your body melt into putty. His hands played with you to his own contentment. Pleasure shot up into your stomach, warming it. Mikey knew exactly how to have you fall into his hands. As you thawed into his thighs, stomach heavy on his hardened cock, he striked for the last time.
His palm hit hard against your already smarting flesh and your ears rang for a brief moment.
“Ten, I’m sorry,” The words were pathetic.
Finally done with your punishment, you sobbed more freely. Being taken over his knee like a child was too much for your brain to process. He worked you through it, stroking your upper back to soothe you.
Mikey adjusted you so you sat sideways on his lap. The rough texture of his pants dug into your burning bottom. His hand cradled the back of your head while you curled into his neck. Your brother shushed you and rocked you back and forth.
When you were more calm, he sighed into your ear, “We aren’t done yet.”
You shot straight up and gawked at him, eyes wide in fear. He grabbed the back of the collar and gripped to keep you in place. Your panicked eyes bounced to the other men in the room. They were all at the edge of their seats, like a movie finally hit its climax. As Mikey unzipped his pants, Kakucho exhibited he was about ready to leap, but Rindou placed an arm against the back of the sofa, tethering him.
“W-what’s going on?”
Mikey lifted his hips up a little, you still on his thigh and yanked down his pants and boxers. His cock sprang from its confines. Mikey wasn’t the biggest, but his length wasn’t anything to scoff at. A little longer than five inches and girthy. You were petrified, not once have you seen his dick fully. He was always the one giving you pleasure, with an unspoken promise never to touch you like that.
You didn’t like the implications of him exposing himself. Slouching further down the couch, Mikey grabbed your waist and sat you back on his thighs, facing the other men. They all knew something you didn’t. Grabbing the belt, he brought you down to rest all your weight on him. He didn’t so much grunt.
He splayed a hand on your back and pushed you down a little, giving him a full view of your pussy. Taking his cock in his hand, he guided it to your hole. You tried to scramble away, but he tugged the leash so hard, you collapsed completely on him.
“Manjiro-nii, please! Don’t do this, you-you promised,” You begged to deafened ears.
Sanzu moaned lightly at your distress. Back firmly to his chest, Mikey pushed further into you, cockhead catching the ring of muscles. Your walls spasmed as he forced you further down to take all of him. You cried as your pussy stretched to accommodate his size.
“How the fuck are you so tight,” Mikey grunted.
He had one hand on your hip using it as leverage to push you down. Moaning, you twitched when he bottomed out inside you. Your hips flushed to his. Mikey basked in finally being inside you. He dreamed of this day.
“God, what a whore,” Rindou said. His voice was breathy with a laugh at the end.
“Yeah,” His brother replied, “look at how wet she is from her brother fucking her. We should record it and sell it. I bet we would make a lot of money.”
You felt like an object more than usual. Mikey did nothing to stop their taunts, if anything, he welcomed it. Hand wrapped around the leather, he kept you tied to him. Your walls spasmed around him and Mikey couldn’t take it any longer. The hand on your hip moved to coil around your waist, hugging you.
Secured, he thrusted his hips up, bullying his cock further up. You screeched when he banged against your cervix. The pain had you clenching tighter around him. Taking that as motivation, he pistoned his hips into you over and over.
Your head lolled back to rest against his shoulder. Eyes slipping closed, Mikey tugged the belt, digging into your larynx. Your bound hands spasmed as he choked you.
“Look at them.”
Lips tingling from the lack of oxygen, you followed his orders. The men were in varying states. Sanzu gathered his cock from his trousers and was stroking himself to the rhythm of Mikey’s thrusts. Both the brothers were still clothed, but were rubbing themselves through their pants. Kakucho was seething in his seat. His cock was hard. How could you blame him, when your pretty moans blessed his ears. But he knew you didn’t want this.
“They are like slobbering puppies,” He spoke into your ear, his breath tickling your sensitive neck, “Whimpering and howling for what’s mine.”
At the last word, he bit the shell of your ear.
“Manjiro-nii…”
His thrusts were becoming too much. He tilted his hips again to repeatedly bump into the spongy spot deep inside you. A loud moan ruptured from your chest and he groaned at the sound. Basking in the unwanted pleasure, your eyes hazed over and began to slip closed.
The bit of leather into your almost healed throat had your lid shoot up.
“Eyes. Open,” Mikey ordered, puncturing your cunt with each word.
You wiggled, and gripped the front of his shirt, your bound hands unable to do anything else. Black creeped in your vision as he didn’t let up.
“You’re killing her!” Kakucho cried.
It was hard to process his words as Mikey only pulled harder.
Sanzu laughed, “Stop being dramatic.”
If Mikey didn’t stop, you were going to pass out. A strangled noise broiled up as your toes curled. Just as the room faded did Mikey let up on his grip. A cough escaped you as you tried to hunch forward to catch your breath. Your brother rooted you back to his chest. Instinctively, your body constricted, ready for more pain.
Your cunt tightened up in response. Mikey almost whimpered at how much you were squeezing him. He wasn’t going to last. Reaching down, the hand around your waist brushed against your puffy, neglected clit.
Yelping, you shied away from his touch. Mikey chased you to rub circles into the bundle of nerves. Wanting, no—he needed you to reach your end with him. The other men quickened their pace as well.
Mikey wrenched the belt back again to cut off your air supply. His thrusts were sloppy and uncoordinated, but didn’t have any less power to them. Pinching your clit until you sobbed out, he rammed himself as far as he could go. Your cunt spasmed around his cock as you came.
The world faded into black and white, mouth agape to moan and to beg for air. Mikey bit down on your shoulder as he came right behind you. His cum was hot and claimed your walls. He gave some weak thrusts, gently guiding you both through the rest of your orgasm.
Slumping against him did he finally release his hold on the belt. You doubled over as you coughed and sputtered to gain your breath. Drool dripped down from your bottom lip.
Mikey tugged you into his embrace this time by your shoulders but you screamed in fear, terrified of being strangled again. Your eyes searched frantically all over the room, trying to process what happened.
“Get out,” Mikey snapped at the other men.
Knowing their play time was done, they leisurely walked out of the room. Kakucho tried to linger, but Ran pushed him along. For you or for Kakucho, no one knows.
When the door was firmly closed, Mikey lifted you up from his cock. You cringed as his cooling cum drooled out from your winking cunt. He softly placed you to the side of him. Swiftly he untied his tie from your forearms and set you free. You brought your arms back to your front and rolled your wrists in hopes to ease the tingling. Next was the belt. You cowered away when his fingers brushed against you.
Mikey exhaled as he unlooped the belt and freed you from your physical leash. He steered you until your head rested on his lap. When you weren’t paying attention, he shoved his cock back into his pants.
“I will never forgive you for this,” You muttered.
“I should be the one saying that.”
Your fist balled up once more, “I hate you. I hate you so fucking much.”
Mikey simply petted your hair as you cried. You were always fragile like butterfly wings. One brush of his finger and you would never fly again. Despite this, he clutched onto you like a careless child. If it meant breaking your very being in the process, then he would do what he must. Though as he watched you twitch and wither, a part of him regretted ripping off your pretty wings.
MORTEM
Days had passed since the gala and you hadn’t left your room. When he brought you back to the hotel room, you were silent. And you stayed silent through the whole trip home. You felt violated and dirty. Now matter how much you scrubbed in the shower, Mikey’s touch wouldn’t leave you.
In a twisted sense, this was your wakeup call. You couldn’t handle much more or else you would shatter. Your brother left you alone for the most part. While you inverted in on yourself, he watched sadly but did nothing.
Routinely, Mikey would come to your room and knock knowing you would not answer. Even with the key he had, he dared not unlock your door. He has pushed his boundaries as is. If anything, he was more distraught out of the both of you.
Laying in your giant bed, you didn’t let your depressed state rot you away. No, you were done being under Mikey’s thumb. Knowing that Kisaki was long since dead and Hanma had little interest in you, the danger was in your home all along. Nothing held you back anymore from starting anew.
You had been back in the manor for about four days now and every night, you snuck out of your room to steal money. You kept it small, but enough to buy you a train and airplane ticket, far away from Japan. As a child, you always loved the countryside and you longed to go somewhere similar to the roaring mountains. Combined with the tips you had stowed away from the club, for a moment just like this, you would be fine until you found a job.
Stealing the money was easy, it was breaking into Mikey’s office to obtain all your documents and passport that had you on edge the most. Last night, you stole the last bit of what you needed, knowing it would be easier to notice missing than a couple hundred dollars. Luckily, Mikey had slipped off to bed and wasn’t slumped over in his chair. Thank whatever deity was listening that all your papers were in his office and not somewhere else. If you had to forge them, you had no idea what you would do with all the men breathing down your neck.
Over the course of you being home, you hadn’t seen or heard of Kakucho once. Your heart broke. But what broke your heart more was that Mikey never really cared for you. You were a possession, an almost perfect sized puzzle piece to fill the gap Emma had left.
Night had fallen, moonlight poured from the window. You waited for Mikey’s knock. Right on time there was a rapping on your door. Tears broke out as you bit into your hand as he shouted your name. His voice was so sad. In another lifetime, maybe you could have been normal siblings and maybe you two could have been close and maybe Emma could still be alive and none of this would have happened.
He sighed and his shadow moved away from the door under the crack at the bottom. You counted and counted until you were in the thousands. Silence and the bellowing winds greeted you. You hopped up from your bed, tearing the sheets from your form.
Crawling under your bed, you grabbed the backpack and toiled it with you. Placing it on your bed, you zipped it open to make sure all you needed was still there. You had your money, documents, and a few spare clothes shoved in there. A water bottle and a few protein bars were in the front pocket, in case.
Softly, you opened your closet and uprooted a thick winter jacket and snow boots. A flurry of snowflakes raged outside. You shoved a hat on top of your head and wrapped a scarf around your neck. Your hand lingered on your throat, the bruise finally gone despite the irritation added from Mikey’s belt. Suddenly short of breath, you shook the thoughts away.
Pulling your hood up, you swung the backpack high on your shoulders. Your feet carried you to the window and you pushed it up. The panes got caught a couple times from the chill. You stared down at the ground below you. Your bedroom was only on the second floor, but if you weren’t careful, you could break your foot. It was also not under anyone else’s bedroom, thankfully.
Vertigo hit you from staring at the snowy ground.
“Fuck it.”
Steeling your resolve, you swung your legs outside the window and ducked your head. Your bottom and hands were the only thing tethering you to the ledge. Sucking an inhale, you jumped.
Swallowing a scream as air whipped in your ears. In seconds, you land on the ground with an *oof*, the snow breaking your fall. Not wasting time, you scurried away from the floor and raced away from the compound. The snow slowed you down and gave away the direction you went. Once you hit the road it was easier to run.
You dared not loop back to the manor and picked up the pace. The subway station was only a half hour walk but you weren’t taking any chances. Booted feet slapped against concrete. Snow crunched under your weight and the cold stung your cheeks. There were a few cars that drove past you, but paid you no mind. They also had places to be.
You couldn’t tell if it was the cold or the fear of being caught, yet a chill went down your spine. Cutting the estimated time in half, the train station was in view. Out of breath, you slowed your pace to a brisk walk. No one was waiting for the train. It made sense since it was the last train of the night.
Gripping the backpack, you reached the empty, open train stop. As you shuffled towards the awning, you heard the clicking of the safety being switched off.
You freezed at the familiar sound.
“Don’t make this difficult, Y/n,” Mikey said from behind you
Scared to confront him, you stay silent and scout when the train will arrive, five minutes. You can buy time. You can be smart about this.
“I’m leaving.”
He cocked the gun, “No you’re not. You’re going to come back with me.”
Still refusing to turn around, you muttered, “Let me go, Mikey.”
He walked closer, snow crackling beneath him. He brought the barrel to the back of your head.
“We both know I can’t do that.”
“Why?” Three more minutes.
“You know why,” he said it like it's so simple. That it's so simple why he entangled you with him when he clearly hated you so deeply.
“No I don’t!” You whipped around, the barrel now to your forehead. It was no longer you talking, but a seven year old you crying why her older brother doesn’t love her.
She speaks through you, “You hated me since we were little. You always favored Emma over me and acted like my presence was a nuisance. I know it should have been me and not her, but it's not fair! It’s not fair that I have to be punished for simply being your sister!”
He gripped you and tugged you to him with the gun now at your temple. “I never hated you, not once! You aren’t a replacement for Emma, I never saw you like that. I loved you since the day I met you but it was so much different than what I have for our other siblings. It was wrong, but I had to have you.”
“You’re sick,” You seethed. This whole time he tormented you for his own twisted desires. He tarnished you with his own sullied hands. He ripped you apart, your fragile butterfly wings crumbling at his fumbling actions.
“I don’t care what you think I am as long as you stay with me,” He clutched your face with an open palm and the heel of his hand that still held the loaded gun.
You tried to pry his hands away as the honking of the train alerts you both of its soon arrival.
“Get off me! Let me go, I hate you.”
Desperate, he kissed you, pouring into you all the love he begged to give but you didn’t want it. Not after what he did.
You pushed against his chest, “You lied to me about Kisaki, yet you punished me for lying. You’re the real liar.”
“I had to! If I didn’t, you would never come back to me.”
“I was never yours to keep.”
“You went to fuck Kakucho in the middle of an important deal!” He was grasping at straws.
“No I didn’t! If you listened instead of going off the handle, you would know I saw Hanma. How do you think I found out Kisaki was dead?”
Mikey’s brows pinched, knowing he was in the wrong, but refused to admit it. The train came barrelling in, tousling both of your hair. It came to a slow crawl, Mikey was out of time.
“You’re mine.”
He bent down as if to kiss you again and you punched him so hard his head whipped to the side. Pushing him off you, you hightailed to the opened doors.
“Don't make me shoot you!” He cried.
Ignore his words, you raced to the gaping door. A scream erupted when a bullet hit your shoulder. The sound was muffled by the blood pumping in your ears. You stumbled on your feet but you clutched the bleeding arm. Going sideways, you barreled into the closing train doors. As they closed, you rested your forehead against the glass.
You jumped when Mikey slammed onto the glass, his face thunderous and filled with ill intent. He was already on the phone with someone. You could only guess who.
Smirking at him, relishing in your small victory, you raised a bloody hand and flipped him off.
He hit the door with the butt of the gun, barely making a dent. The train kicked into motion and you waved goodbye at him as he merely glared, watching you fly away from him.
You take a seat still clutching your bleeding arm. At this point you were surely going to pass out from either the shock or blood loss, but a smile stayed on your face. Mikey was going to have all of Japan locked down by the time you reach the end of the line, but you savored your small moment of peace.
Come morning, you were going to be slung back at the beginning. But you have done this cycle before and you were going to do it again and again until either you or Mikey break.
#yandere mikey#yandere mikey x reader#yandere manjiro sano#yandere tokyo revengers#yandere tokyorev#yandere manjiro x reader#yandere x reader#yandere
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