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mashiraostail · 3 months

Note

can you do HCs of mundane turn ons for the main companions ? PLEASE <3

These are fun

omg maybe my Wyll bias is showing his is way longer. He just eats like he eats everyyyy time.

Slight nsfw under the cut :3 maybe more than slight

Shadowheart: Watching your hands, especially if you've already slept together or started a relationship. She looovvess your hands, she loves to watch you fiddle with things, thumbing at the pages of a book, picking locks, or spinning a small blade between your hands. She could probably explain it in depth if she wanted to, but she was a lady of simple wants and desires and so she doesn't feel the need. She'll fantasize about your nimble, practiced hands all night if you've managed a particularly impressive slight of hand. She's already attracted to the rest of you, so imagining how skilled you are is the final nail in the coffin for her. She'd want to feel your hands in her hair, grazing down her back, tracing the divot of her spine. She wonders how quickly you could undress her, how quickly you could undo her with just your hands.

Astarion: He enjoys seeing you with Scratch and the owl bear, and Tara and all the other furry (or hairless feline) friends you make on your adventure. He isn't sure why. It makes him feel warm, and after decades of chasing burning hot desire a pleasant warmth is a thousand times more satisfying. Though he'll groan and complain at your acts of benevolence to other people, he can't help but feel a soft spot form for animals. He didn't think he'd enjoy seeing someone be so kind and warm. He does. There are moments where he's watching you befriend yet another stray, scratching behind it's ears or under it's chin where he almost longs to switch places. He'll be the first to admit he's lead such a terrible life, a truly loving and gentle touch has been far and few in between. Seeing you care for the four legged friends you've made makes him feel hopeful, he wonders if you would care for him like this. If you would extend such a gracious and gentle touch to him. He feels warm at the thought of it. Soft lips and a feather light touch tracing down his chest, over his stomach. Would you smile and coo praise at him the same way you did with the cub? Would you call him wonderful and brilliant too? Would you mean it?

Gale: Obviously we know he enjoys watching you in a fight, he's said so himself. So I'll do you one better, the inverse. Seeing you freshly cleaned, sparkling with the water of whatever river or lake you'd jumped into drives him just as mad, or maybe it's your wet hair. It doesn't come from the typical carnal sort of desire to make you dirty and sweaty again, no, that's not Gale's style. He just wants to see, all of it, every inch of your perfect, clean skin. He wants to feel your wet hair against his palms, or huddled into the crook of his neck while he touches you all over. The smell of your soap and the way your wet skin looks even more supple than when it's dry is so painfully inviting for him. Some may say that Gale just loves you, dirty, clean, dry, wet, and so on..maybe that is the case. Something about your still slightly damp, freshly cleaned skin is especially intoxicating. He really does just want to touch and kiss, not to sully or dirty just to love and enjoy. He doesn't even know that body worship is a kink that's just how he acts.

Lae'zel: Being an asshole Bickering. At first it actually pisses her off, your snide remarks, the way you brush her off or roll your eyes should make her angry at you, she should hit you, instead she just wants to pounce on you, she wants to wipe that smug look off your face...with her face...while you're both naked. It pisses her off, it makes her stumble over her words, forget herself. She can hardly look at you when she insults you. If you laugh at her, she'll be white knuckling through the end of your argument, then she'll go rub off in private. Unless you notice, and once you get to know her better it probably isn't too hard to see. Turn your rude bickering into coy teasing, egg her on and on until she simply can't help but give into herself ('what are you gonna do about it?' 'ok, make me.' 'I'd like to see you try' etc...) It'll be an angry sort of lay but not a bad one at all, and once you're bent at her will she'll ease up on you, once you've been together a while she may even apologize for being rough with you. No promises.

Wyll: He loooveees when you're sleepy. Propped up trying to read a book but you're eyelids are slipping closed every few seconds? Trying to wash up but having to scrub your face just to get through the routine? Sleepy giggles at Gale's decidedly unfunny joke? He can't help but just imagine you cuddling up to him, asking for sleepy kisses, trying to sneak cold hands into the hem of his shirt to rest on his warm belly. He can't help it, you're so intoxicatingly lovely when you're tired like this and though he feels terribly un-gentlemanly he can't deny the fire in his stomach when you yawn and say his name "Oh Wyll, " you snuffle with the yawn and look at him with tired eyes, "I might need to call it a night." He may have to bite back some strangled noise of arousal, especially if you're already trying to cuddle up with him. He can't help but let his mind wander to how you'd be so sleepy and coy with him had he the mind to take you some place private. It would be a bold faced lie if he said he didn't think about settling down with you, wrapping you up from behind, letting his hands roam freely, and in your tired state he doubts you'd be very hard to work up. You'd be too sleepy to resist all your desires, he thinks about the way you'd release all your inhibitions, he wonders where you would kiss him, you'd indulge him all your secrets biting and licking him in all the places you'd been secretly admiring. He wouldn't complain, he burned to know it all actually, in a sort of selfish way. What were you normally too shy to tell him? What drove you mad for him? He wouldn't mind your sleepy groping, he'd happily let you bite and moan and prod at him. You'd guide his hands to where you wanted them and lazily take what you desired and he would just be so happy to take care of you. You would have a sleepy sort of romp he'd set the pace, huddle you close, kiss you and praise you and it would all be lovely and drowsing and put you both to a great nights rest together.

Karlach: The back of your neck (especially if you have long hair that usually covers it). If she ever tells you and you laugh she'll tell you to fuck right off about it. She can't explain it, watching you pull your hair up, or guide it over your shoulder is entrancing enough but then there it is. The nape of your neck, the short hairs there, your skin looks soo smooth and perfect, she wants to kiss it, or maybe bite it, depending on how frustrated she's feeling. She'll think about pressing her thumbs into it and watch all the tension in your shoulders melt away. She's always favored coming up from behind, she's always pulling your hair over your shoulder, or offering to tie it up for you to 'get it out of your face!'. It's a self serving gesture at it's core. She'll think about kissing it, feeling it flush under her hands and lips. When you do finally get together she'll enjoy seeing the way the nape of your neck glistens with sweat while your together, she thinks it's a great place to have a hold of you for a multitude of reasons.

Halsin: He likes seeing you exert yourself, maybe it's some kind of primal instinct or something, or maybe he just likes to know how far he'll be able to push you later that night. Either way, he can't help it, he thinks it may get better as you grow closer but it only grows worse. Blood and grime caked to your skin don't deter him at all, and if we were drunk enough he'd admit the smell of your sweat, and the salty taste of it on your skin when he kissed or licked or bit you drove him mad. He struggles to be subtle when he watches you after a fight or during a long up hill hike. The rise and fall of your chest makes something in him tighten, the glisten of sweat on your skin, seeing your hair stick to your forehead, the flush of your cheeks and the way your lips part to take in deeper breaths....it all drives him a bit mad. He'll quell his desire to ambush you and drag you off to a secluded forest alcove with a myriad of debauched daydreams, all of them making his stomach stir. First he'll wonder if he could get you into a similarly winded state, if he could make sweat roll down your back, if you would melt for him like you melted at the unrelenting heat of the sun. How would his name sound as a desperate gasp for air? How hot would your cheeks feel under his fingertips when he takes you by the chin and squeezes your face in his hand? The way your lips open to take in deep and thankful breaths only makes him want to completely ravish your mouth. He thinks about what it would take for him to exhaust you so much the weight of own head would be too heavy and he'd have to keep you up with a fistful of your hair.

#shadowheart x reader #astarion x reader #gale x reader #lae'zel x reader #wyll x reader #karlach x reader #halsin x reader #gale dekarios #astarion #wyll ravengard #bg3 x reader #bg3 hcs

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felinefractious · 15 days

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i really dont know much about maine coons but they look super cool, what are the "maine coon features" you mention in your post about people thinking their longhairs are maine coons?

The appearance of the Maine Coon is supposed to be a well-balanced. The head and muzzle should be squared with a clear stop. Ear tufts should be distinctly present.

For the sake of showing the Maine Coon is classified as a “semi-longhair,” so they aren’t supposed to be a giant puffball like the Persian or British Longhair.

I’m having a hard time explaining it in a way that I feel makes sense.

The French registry LOOF has some excellent illustrated standards for some of their breeds. Cedarseed has also put together an excellent visual guide to various breeds available for purchase as an e-book or physical copy.

It’s an awesome, huge resource that I can’t recommend enough both for the feline artist - be it big cats, other wild cats or our domestic buddies - or the purebred snob afficiando likes myself.

On the left we have Honey Sushi, a Domestic Longhair available for adoption mis-labeled as a Maine Coon mix and on the right we have Tigerfeet Billie Holiday the Maine Coon.

Honey’s ears are too wide-set and rounded, he lacks the characteristic ear tufts and his muzzle is not well-defined. His whisker pads kind of just blend into the rest of his face as an entire unit compared to Billie distinct muzzle that leaves no question where no question as to where it starts and ends. Billie also has the squared head of the breed while Honey does not.

Tallulah Gin is listed as a Maine Coon x Persian mix, although she is most likely a Domestic Longhair. Her coat is an excellent example of what a Maine Coon’s coat shouldn’t look like - not that anything is wrong with her beautiful fur, it’s just not Maine Coon fur.

Compared to this Maine Coon from The Opal Temple. You can see that the topline is smooth and “short” but the fur gets gradually longer towards the belly and pants where it achieves maximum fluff. Also note that the Maine Coon’s head doesn’t disappear into a Lion King worthy mane, the ruff is more moderate and follows the same pattern as the rest of the coat of being short up top flowing downward into the longer part of the coat.

There are random-bred cats with one or more of these “Maine Coon” features, and there are Maine Coon’s which are more moderate or more extreme and don’t meet the standard to a T.

I can show you pedigree Maine Coon’s with wide forehead, tall ears, insubstantial ear tufts, proportions not well-balanced or however many faults you want to list.

I can also show you random-bred cats with squared heads and muzzles, well-spaced ears, a coat that’s short in the right places and long in the right places and falls just so.

I’ve met cats where I’ve been told they’re a Maine Coon mix and I don’t go “Oh obviously” but “Yeah, I can see that.” This isn’t commonplace, but it’s happened a few times where the cat has been passable as a poorly bred Maine Coon or mix.

But what gets me is so often I see people - online and in person - who say their cat is a Maine Coon or Maine Coon mix, they sweat up down and sideways that it must be true because the cat looks so much like a Maine Coon…

And then the cat is the moggiest moggy to have ever moggied. Not a single Maine Coon feature in sight, unless you include long fur - and some of them don’t even have that! Is the resemblance that they’re both cats? Is that what you’re seeing?

If you’re going to try to sell me on your cat being a Maine Coon or mix at least show me you have a basic understanding of the breed’s conformation and show me what features make you feel that way about your cat that don’t include “big” and “fluffy.”

#anonymous #asks #cat breeds #maine coon

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rippersz · 3 months

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𝙲𝚊𝚝!𝙻𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚊 𝚆𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜:

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These are my opinions! If you don’t agree, then add your own headcanons! The idea is taken from the mind of @masscared-star and their thoughts on feline Larissa Weems.

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Kitty Cat Larissa Weems is a white Turkish Angora feline. One of the fluffy ones with the thicker neck fur and ear tufts. Her tail widens toward the end and is very soft of course. Every part of her is soft.

Her teeth are very sharp. They’re still in human alignment, but the incisors and canines are obviously more cat-like. The premolars and molars, toward the back of her jaw, have more sharp edges. So she doesn’t hurt herself, her tongue rests in her mouth differently and has a very weird texture. It’s in between human, soft, and the feline, rougher and tougher.

Her pupils CAN turn into slits. Her ears CAN twitch and swivel and flatten. Her tail CAN swish swish swish. She also has a habit of stalking without realizing - walking with swinging hips and one foot in front of the other like that of a model.

She has PERFECT balance. Despite her height and stature, she will not fall. And if she does, she shall be graceful about it.

Heightened senses of course. She has an excellent sense of smell. Her eyes, however, function like a human’s. She can see all colors and has an innate sense of where things are so there’s no ‘bumping into things’ unless she’s somehow dizzy. BUT she CAN see in the dark. Built-in night vision. No hiding from her at night.

Ear scritches. Yes, ma’am. Scratch her behind the ears, be careful of her hair, and she will push into your hand without even thinking. It’s very comforting for her and sends lovely little shivers down her spine. Same with the base of her tail. She won’t respond in the same… interesting manner as a cat’s, but she will let her tail curl around your wrist or your waist. She has a lot of control over it.

PURRING. PURRRRINGGG SOMETHING IS PURRINNNGGG AND IT’S LARISSA WEEMS LMAO. She will purr whenever she is content. Head on your lap while reading. Eating a lovely little meal with you in deep candlelight. She keeps it low and soft when she’s in public, happy and proud of her staff and students, but otherwise lets herself purr as loudly as she wants when with you. - Larissa also has the ability to let out little ‘mrrow!’ chirping kitty sounds when she’s excited. If you show up with lunch for her one day and she’s not expecting you, she’ll perk up and the sound will leave her chest without any restraint. She will be embarrassed about it. You will laugh and she will be embarrassed and then when you give her a little kiss, she will purposefully nick your lip and you will go ow!! and she will go 'Gotcha.'

Showering…. hissss….. She loves showers so much, she does, because they are warm and she likes warmth, but they are also annoying. The pitter patter on her ears can irritate her, so she indulges in baths more. It gives her control over the touches on her ears and she actually enjoys grooming the parts of her that are feline. Although, if you headcanon that she has a proper cat form, she will not like water as much.

Her nails are sharp. She can’t help it. They’re painted red, yes, and they can be sheathed and unsheathed (like Enid’s, yes), but she tries to be gentle with them. When she’s angry or frightened, they shoot out - so just be careful.

Her precious soft ears are pierced, near the base by her head on the outsides, but those areas are sensitive. Not sensitive like ooooo but sensitive like ow please don’t squeeze there. She mainly wears pearls in those spots, because she likes the sparkle, but little golden hoops make the occasional appearance as well. - She does not like bows or things being placed around her ears though. Chances are she will not like extra accessories there. And she DOES NOT APPRECIATE YOU TRYING TO TURN THEM INSIDE OUT BECAUSE IT LOOKS FUNNY. You did it once and you have the nicks on your hands to show it. Worth the laugh though.

She hisses beneath her breath when irritated. A popping sort of hiss that rumbles from her throat and is often heard in the quiet of her office.

She’s quick. Crazy quick. It seems impossible but it isn’t.

LOUNGING. BASKING IN THE SUN. LOUNGING AND BASKING. MMMM SUNLIGHT. She will lay across her chaise and she will soak in the rays through the windows and she will turn around in her desk chair and just sit there until she nearly falls asleep. No, it’s not very productive, but if she doesn’t get her daily sunlight, she will be a little bit down. If you find her taking a midday rest on the weekend, full body facing the sun that filters through onto the bed, no you don’t. Don’t disturb her. Leave her be, purring away happily.

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:3 - Rip x

#rippersz #fanfictionwriter #fanfic #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #wednesday larissa weems #cat!larissa weems #headcanons #larissa weems headcanons

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suzdin · 6 months

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DATURA

Summary: Dave and his team have been sent to kill you, but the night pans out differently than you anticipate.

Warnings: ¡SEX POLLEN! Implied noncon due to sex pollen. Fictional drug use. Mentions of weapons/guns/murder (duh). Threeway sex. Gun play, unprotected p in v, creampies, masturbation (f), fingering, spit roasting, oral (m receiving), use of sex toy on reader, anal, spitting, light degradation, choking, spanking, rough sex, squirting, let me know if I missed anything. No use of y/n. Picture is for aesthetics only, as reader is not given a physical description.

This fic is extremely feral and not for everyone, and that’s okay. <3

Word Count: 4,800-ish

Taglist: @kellybelly1978 @ohheypedrito @darkheartgatita @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain @sonderosa @missladym1981

And of course I dedicate this to @survivingandenduring and @kateispunk for holding a gun to my head until I wrote this inspiring me to write this 😘

——

Dave prods his index finger at the highlighted portions of the floor plans on the tablet, which he presents to his compatriots.

“There are entrances here, here…and here,” he points out, tapping the third for emphasis. “She’ll be expecting those. Watching them.”

Dave brushes his bottom lip with his thumb, brow creasing in contemplation.

“Ari and Resnik can head off the two main entrances. Joel, you take the side. And I’ll enter…here.” He places a finger where there’s a hastily drawn ‘X’ facing a private alley and courtyard.

“Don’t see a door or window,” the tall, tan man to his left drawls, placing a hand on his hip.

“Right. There’s a secret entrance there which leads to a crawl space left over from the city’s bootlegging days. None of the residents know. And guess where it exits?” Dave asks, eyes darting between the three men.

He places a finger where the bedroom closet would be.

A smirk twists Joel’s mustache. “Shit,” he says, scratching thick, weathered fingers through his scruff. “Gonna hit ‘er from all sides.”

“Exactly,” Dave responds, mirroring the way his companion places his hands on his hips. “We’ll strike at 10 PM sharp. That’s when the main festivities begin. No one will hear a thing.”

——

Dave crouches next to the hatch that leads to the secret door beneath the building, long since defunct due to the city’s proclivity for flooding.

A crackle resonates through his ear piece.

“Miller. Anything?” Dave asks.

“Nothin’,” Joel answers in a low southern lilt, positioned at the bottom of the narrow stairwell on the east side of the building, clicking the safety off on his Glock.

“Ari, Resnik? Station yourselves. Miller, I’m going in.”

“10-4,” Joel returns.

Dave yanks up on the metal hatch and it opens with a jarring creak, drowned out by the roar of the crowds on Bourbon Street and another jazz band playing their rendition of Oh When The Saints Go Marching In for probably the 1,000th time that evening.

He slips in easily and finds a peeling red door, which is shockingly ajar. A stray cat rushes out with a shriek, spitting feline obscenities at him.

“Fuck!” Dave snarls as the dark, furry void streaks past him and into the night.

“What’s goin’ on?” Joel’s voice.

“Nothing. Fucking cat. I’m inside.”

A low, throaty chortle sounds through Dave’s ear piece.

“Eat shit, Miller. Start heading up. I should reach her apartment in five.”

“Unless there’s more cats guarding the place.” This time it’s Ari’s voice. Dave pointedly ignores him.

The crawl space is narrow and damp, crushing in at him from all sides and choked with cobwebs and god knows what else, but it’s surprisingly not the worst place he’s ever been.

The space quickly dead ends into a ladder that looks like it’s seen far better days, rusting from the bolts outward. Dave can’t help but wonder if it will support his full body weight.

“‘M at her front door,” Joel remarks through the ear piece.

“Climbing the ladder now,” Dave responds as he begins his ascent, gripping the bottom rung and giving it a hard jostle to test its integrity.

The metal rungs protest and groan under his weight, but the structure holds true.

The boys had thought it absolutely ludicrous when Dave had come to them for their help with the hit. Four men for one single woman?

Bullshit. A waste of time and resources.

That is until they’d familiarized themselves with your rap sheet. Just shy of forty murders in less than a decade, and a weapons and ballistics specialist to boot.

But it would all end tonight, and that price on your pretty little head would be a nice cherry on top.

He reaches the hatch leading into your closet a moment later, twisting the mechanism that holds it flush to the wooden floor above.

He draws the Beretta from the holster on his hip, clicking off the safety as he strains his hearing to listen for something, anything, that would give him pause; that would make him abort the mission.

He hears nothing but the music seeping in from the streets through the century old brick.

“I’m in, Joel. I’m in,” Dave whispers, lifting the hatch as he silently crawls inside your closet, the scent of you overwhelming his senses, making his nostrils flair. Cock already half hard in his dark denim jeans at the prospect of another name scratched off his list.

Your name.

——

Joel makes short work of unlocking your door, pushing it open with his foot as he replaces the Glock with the heavier semi-automatic at his back, holstering the pistol on his hip.

His face pinches. You hadn’t even locked the deadbolt, despite having one, a feeling of dread slithering up the crease of his scrotum, perspiration pricking at his skin.

You’ve been waiting for them.

You register Joel first, his heavy footfalls impossible to conceal under the creak of the original wooden flooring. It’s almost laughable how loud they’re being, Joel making a ruckus behind you and the other rustling somewhere in your closet, probably smelling your panties for all you know.

Joel finds you at an open window, back facing him as some loud pop song he doesn’t recognize drifts up from the Quarter below. You’re naked aside from a short, black pleated skirt that barely ghosts the lower curve of your ass, a silver and white fox tail peeking out from beneath the hem of said skirt.

Though he can’t see it from his current vantage, a gun rests on the window sill in front of you. You’re starting to think you won’t be needing it. Not when the man at your back could have already taken a clear shot at you and didn’t.

You lean slightly forward, revealing more of your ass to Joel and cheering as you catch a handful of colorful Mardi Gras beads from one of hundreds of floats below, waving your arms triumphantly over your head before you slip the necklaces around the lovely column of your neck.

Joel spots Dave then, mocha brown eyes shifting to his comrade, his expression unreadable. The Beretta drawn to shoulder height, trained at your head, but he isn’t pulling the trigger. Not yet.

Lowering the rifle, Joel lifts a fist in the air to signal to Dave, take the shot, asshole.

But he doesn’t, and neither does Joel, staring at your bared skin, the exposed hills and valleys of your body. Two men reduced to little more than their base desires in mere seconds. Exactly what you were expecting.

You finally shut the window and turn to face them when they do nothing but stand there, transfixed by your beauty. You’re wearing a masquerade mask in royal purple that’s trimmed with gold lace, cinched tightly behind your head.

You won’t be needing a gun when you can use sexuality as a weapon. It wasn’t the first time, and certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“Took you long enough,” you admonish, eyes drifting back and forth between the two men.

The larger one is broad and older, unkempt curls swirling away from his head, dusted with silver. The beard tracing his jaw is dark and patchy, a thick mustache framing his upper lip.

A red and black flannel stretches across the expanse of his upper body, tucked into dark wash jeans, ending with heavy work boots. His eyes darken in their regard of you.

His companion is also broad, only just less so, and younger than his comrade by what you guess to be ten or fifteen years. His face is clean and smooth with the barest hint of shadow, plush lips pushed outward in bewilderment, a black beanie pulled down to conceal his dark hair, matching the rest of his attire.

“Love the outfit, but a bit on the nose, don’t you think?” you ask the younger of the two men. The edges of his lips twitch upward in amusement.

You sway your hips slightly, making the tail between your legs wag to and fro, enticing the two men to ease closer. And they do. Exactly where you want them.

Dave notices your fingers dancing across the lid of a small metal box in the nick of time.

A new party drug originating from Ibiza, its purpose intended to act as a powerful aphrodisiac amongst the most experimental, but as with most things, too much could be dangerous, in rare cases fatal. It usually came in tab form, but it had been sold to you as a fine powder, and your plan was to drug them senseless until they fucked each other to death or you killed them, depending on how bored you got.

You grasp the ornate metal box in your fingers and flick your wrist outward, hurling the contents in a direct trajectory at Dave’s face, which would have hit the intended target had he not been ready to deflect the strike with a hastily lobbed pillow from the nearby sofa.

The cloud the hit produces is magnificent, a shimmery white mist which coats your face and lips and everything else in its path, inhaled through your sinuses and entered through your bloodstream as traces of the powder land on your tastebuds.

You spit and claw at your face, but it’s too late, and you know it.

You’re fucked in more ways than one.

The affects are almost instantaneous, a fiery hot inferno that builds low in your core, a lance of pain sawing through you from the inside out. Your pupils dilate and everything is suddenly too bright, too painful, every source of illumination having a halo that almost resembles a mushroom cloud in its brilliance, its potency.

You feel the sticky slick coating the inside of your thighs and you double over, clutching your guts, tears pricking at your eyes.

“Whatsa matter, darlin’?” Joel asks, your show of pain bringing him immense joy. “Can’t handle what you dish out?”

His cock strains against his jeans as he watches you and you groan, spreading your legs as you slip a finger between your folds in a bid to quell some of the ache. “Fuck…” you grit.

“Jesus, York, the hell’s wrong with her?” Joel questions.

Dave can only stare, transfixed, palming himself over his jeans.

Both men can’t help but jump when Resnik’s voice comes through the ear piece, so lost in your body they almost forgot why they were there to begin with.

“Everything alright?” he asks.

“Good,” Dave responds. “We’re…negotiating.”

“Negoti— fucking seriously?”

“Yes,” Dave answers firmly, his voice a low and husky. “I’ll explain later. For now, stay in a holding pattern, and make sure no one enters the building.”

Resnik starts to say something else, but Dave flicks off the ear piece and tosses it to the floor before he can finish, already forgotten. Joel follows suit.

“Help, please,” you whimper, stepping toward Joel as you fumble in desperation at his jeans. “Need it bad. It hurts.”

Joel abandons his weapons, drunk at the sight of you. His massive hands circle your waist, squeezing, desirous, lifting your skirt to cup your ass, exposing the tail tucked between your cheeks to Dave. You keen and without thinking, Joel bends forward to press his lips to yours.

“Miller, stop —“ Dave spits sharply, but it’s too late. Joel kisses you, deep and wanton, tongue swiping hungrily at your lips, and within seconds he receives his own dose of the drug, though not nearly as much as you.

He spins you in his grasp and hikes your skirt even higher up your waist, revealing your pussy to Dave, dragging two thick, callused digits between your dripping folds, bumping your clit. You moan and press your ass against him, the hard line of his cock nudging at the plug, heightening your pleasure.

“Y’like that, darlin’?” Joel murmurs into the shell of your ear.

“Yes,” you answer too quickly. “But I need your cock.”

“That so?” he answers gruffly, making quick work of his jeans as he shucks them off like a second skin, the drug already firmly rooting itself in his brain.

He tugs his boxers down, fat cock springing free from its confines as he shoves you forward, folding you in half over the couch with a broad palm pressed between your shoulder blades, notching himself at your entrance and pushing himself inward with reckless abandon.

You grunt at the reprieve, the sting of how forcefully he invades you, how he fills you.

Dave watches the events unfold in stunned silence, lips parted and skewed, unbuckling his belt as his eyes fixate on your face, your lovely sparkling eyes. The way your mouth hangs open when Joel begins railing into you with everything he has to give.

He reaches forward and plucks the mask from your face, discarding it, so he can see you. See how well you take it.

He drags the pad of his thumb along your succulent bottom lip, pressing it against your tongue, to the back of your throat, teasing. Testing.

He exhales a groan when you don’t gag.

He quickly steps out of his jeans and boxers, climbing onto the couch in front of you, roughly gripping the sides of your face so that your lips pop open for him.

You take him into your mouth without question, mewling softly, your throat and jaw burning with effort as he sinks himself into you.

Dave presses the barrel of the gun against your temple, his voice a snarl as he says, “Try anything and I’ll spray your pretty little brains all over these walls, sweetheart. Understood?”

You nod around him in affirmation as he begins rutting into your mouth, his other hand fisted tightly in your hair.

It isn’t long before Joel drags your first orgasm out of you, every muscle in your body constricting, relieving the pain only temporarily before it flares up again, white hot and slithering through your veins like molten metal.

“Thassit, darlin’. Takin’ that dick like a champ,” Joel praises, giving your ass a sharp slap. Every thrust of his hips knocking against the plug secured firmly in your ring of muscle.

“Fucking whore, letting two men enter you,” Dave growls, the gun pressed so squarely against your skull, it’s sure to leave an indentation.

Joel finishes inside you expeditiously with a low growl, panting into the small of your back as he collapses forward, knees smarting.

“Quick on the draw as always, Miller,” Dave tuts, clicking his tongue.

Dave’s fingers twist at your roots as he pulls you further onto his length, bottoming out with a shudder at the back of your throat.

“Fuck off, York,” Joel retorts, still fully hard inside of you. He tugs at the end of the tail, smirking playfully, causing you to moan.

“What if I shoved my dick up your ass next, sweet girl?”

You whimper around Dave in reverence. For both of them.

“Not a chance. That ass is mine,” Dave snorts. “Soon as I’m done with this mouth.”

Joel doesn’t argue. Your pussy feels too good, the way you squeeze him, and it isn’t long before he’s railing you hard again, never having gone soft, even at his age.

You cum a second time, soaking Joel, your release splashing down his muscular thighs. Your moans reverberating through Dave’s cock.

“Fuck, I’m not going to last like this…” Dave grunts as he pulls himself free from you with a pop of your lips, jaw hanging slack as Joel’s unforgiving pace doesn’t falter behind you.

“Trade places, Joel,” Dave demands.

“Not a chance,” Joel growls, the sounds of his hips slamming against your ass lewd and depraved.

“Now, Miller,” Dave reiterates, eyes deepening a shade as he lifts the gun away from your head to aim it at Joel.

“Fuck,” Joel spits, extricating himself from you as he and Dave exchange places. “Fine.”

Joel’s wide palms cup your face and he doesn’t waste time stretching your jaw and throat beyond their limits because fuck, he’s girthy. You taste the cocktail of you and him on your tongue.

He circles the outside of your throat with his hand and squeezes, feeling himself moving in your esophagus, grunting deeply as he watches you take him.

You jolt when you feel something cold, rigid and foreign dashing through your folds a second later, realizing in abject horror what is happening just as Dave pushes it inside of you and begins fucking you with it.

You moan, eyelids fluttering closed and Joel grunts deep in his chest, hand tightening around the cradle of your throat.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you, slut? You like being fucked with my gun?” Dave grits from behind you.

You make a sound of supplication that tells Dave yes, yes you do.

He grins in satisfaction and drives the gun deeper, angling it just right, making you keen. The resulting squelch is deafening and obscene.

He pulls another orgasm out of you almost immediately, once again temporarily relieving the bubbling pain, sobbing around Joel, who’s already filling your mouth with more of his seed, spilling down your throat with a snarl.

He slows only for a moment, still hard as iron, ready to go again. And again.

Dave drags his lips up the curve of your ass and sinks his teeth into the meat of one of your plump cheeks, clamping down. You writhe against him at the small dagger of pain that courses through you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Dave purrs, giving the smarting cheek a slap.

As he continues to fuck you with the barrel of the pistol, his other hand skirts your tight star of muscle, fingers dancing around it.

His hand curls into the synthetic material of the tail, reveling the softness against his fingertips, and begins to tug slowly, lightly, testing.

You initially clench out of instinct, but relax your muscles as understanding settles over you, allowing him to pull it free from your puckered hole, letting it drop to the couch.

“Such a good girl,” Dave croons, tilting his face forward to place a chaste kiss there, the tip of his tongue darting out to circle your rim. You whine and arch into his touch.

“You should have some of this drug, York. Y’won’t have to worry about lastin’ then.”

“No,” Dave says as he lifts his head above your ass to lock eyes with Joel. “One of us needs to keep a clear head.”

“C’mon,” Joel taunts, swiping a finger through the mix of powder and tears still on your face. “Have a taste. Live for once.”

Joel extends his offering to Dave, hovering just over your lower back, inches from Dave’s lips. The men stare each other down, each of their movements slowing, much to your displeasure.

Dave eventually resigns himself, taking Joel’s fingers into his mouth and giving them a good laving with his tongue, tasting the sweetness of the drug, the saltiness of your tears.

Without warning, Joel succumbs to another high, exhaling a sputtered groan as you swallow what he gives you — what little of it there is at this point.

The drug makes quick work of Dave, twisting him into some kind of untethered beast as he drags multiple orgasms out of you with the barrel of the gun, his tongue flicking hungrily against your ring of muscle.

There isn’t a part of you that isn’t on fire. With desire, pain, fear. Fear that this will never end, that these two men will rip you apart from the inside out before all is said and done, but in spite of yourself, in spite of everything, you don’t want it to end.

“Lie back, Joel,” Dave commands and Joel does so without hesitation, his age getting the better of him, welcoming the relief he’ll receive as he makes himself comfortable on your couch.

Likewise, you’re happy for your jaw to have a momentary reprieve, as well, rubbing your tired muscles with your fingers as you catch your breath.

“Get on top of him,” Dave barks at you.

You willingly climb atop Joel, panting, lining yourself up with the slick head of his shaft. Joel’s heavy arm comes up to bar across your hips, pushing you down onto him until you sink all the way to his curls. The new angle making you keen and arch.

Dave presses you forward until your chest is flush with Joel’s, flattening you out before him. Joel doesn’t miss the opportunity to wrap his lips around yours again, kissing you sloppily, roving the wet heat of your mouth with his tongue, making you whimper as you begin riding him.

Dave spreads your cheeks apart and spits a globule of saliva at your puckered entrance, pressing two digits inside easily.

“Good thing you already loosened up that ass for me. You can take both of us, can’t you, sweetheart?” Dave murmurs and you simply nod, not wanting to tear your mouth away from Joel.

He lines himself up, placing the weeping slit of his head against your muscle as he begins pushing inward, inch by agonizing inch. Though you’re properly loosened up, there’s still a slight sting as your muscles contract and pulsate around him, stretching to accommodate his size.

You pant in hitched breaths, never having felt so full, so sated, before. It’s like they’re everywhere inside of you, consuming every inch of you like rabid jackals. Joel’s arms lacing around both you and Dave as both men begin to move independently within you.

You soon discover why they work so well as a team. Within minutes their movements are synchronized, a coordinated dance with you placed right in the middle, every downward thrust from Dave immediately proceeded by an upward lance from Joel. And they somehow manage to maintain said synchronicity for quite some time, even as they’re filling you to the brim with their cum.

They pump you full of themselves and you continue to drench them with every orgasm they drag out of you, your shared fluids sluicing down your bodies, soaking the cushions of the couch below.

It’s okay, you can just burn it if you actually end up surviving this. But hey, if you don’t, what a way to go, right?

Everything begins to meld together after a while, lines and vision blurred, your bodies practically stitched together at the seams, a perilous dance between the three of you in the throes of passion when the drug reaches its peak.

Their hands paw at you, knead you, your flesh supple and malleable under their large palms. They dig their fingers in, branding you, bruising marks left in their wake. Your head twists to and fro, tongue snaking between your teeth as you alternate between locking lips with both of them. You aren’t certain, but you think you see Joel and Dave link lips a few times as well, but it’s difficult to ascertain for sure, each scene of debauchery bleeding right into the next.

It goes on like that for hours, Dave and Joel occasionally switching roles, manipulating your overwrought body into a host of varying positions.

You have to stop a few times. For water, or just to take a break and a quick breather before you’re at it again, both men claiming your body like the primitive animals they are.

Dave has to call off his two remaining men when they practically try to beat down your door, understandably mystified and concerned, drinking in the vision laid out before them when Dave answers the door naked as the day he was born.

He sends them away when their motives shift and they make a sudden plea to join, letting them know in no uncertain terms that you are for him and Joel only.

You pout as you watch them leave, ever eager for more, but you don’t allow yourself to dwell on it, the three of you getting right back into the swing of things the moment they’re gone.

——

You must have shifted to the bedroom at some point during the night, as you rouse from sleep between two massive furnaces of men, a thin sheen of perspiration coating your still naked bodies.

You extricate yourself from the tangle of limbs and climb out from beneath them. You could easily put an end to them right now, if you were so inclined. But there’s something oddly endearing about the way they’re passed out in your bed, practically cuddling one another, Joel snoring like a chainsaw, that gives you pause. You’re amazed you were able to get any sleep at all with them in your bed.

You give them a final glance before you hastily make your way to the bathroom to clean up.

——

After your shower, you slip into a set of loose and comfortable sweats — a stark contrast from last night — tucking your pistol into the band of your sweatpants. You know, just in case.

You sweep up the remaining powder, making sure to wear proper PPE this time, salvaging as much of it as you can, should you ever need it again. As a weapon next time, you tell yourself.

Once done, you wander into the kitchen, chewing on two naproxen tablets before chugging what seems like a gallon of water to alleviate your dehydration and the various aches and pains riddling your body.

You’re starving so you put on a pot of coffee and whip up a simple breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast, enough to share. You plate the eggs and bacon on a platter and place them in the center of the table while you finish up the toast.

Your back is to Dave when he enters the kitchen. You feel the boards shift and you spin on the balls of your feet, drawing and raising your gun. You aren’t at all surprised when you find him doing the same — holding the same gun he fucked you with — dressed only in his boxers, your eyes locked, staring each other down in a deadly game of chicken.

“Easy now, kids. Thought ya worked out your differences last night,” Joel chides as he steps into the kitchen next to Dave, adjusting himself in his boxers.

You swallow, eyes blown wide, and you lower your gun first, even though you shouldn’t. After an uncomfortable beat, Dave does the same.

“We good?” you ask him.

“Yeah. Good.” Dave furrows his brow at you, unconvinced, but willing to play nice. For now.

“Smells great, sweetheart,” Joel says, seating himself at the table, helping himself to a plate.

You make a motion for Dave to sit.

“Could be poisoned,” he warns Joel, who flashes him and incredulous slant of his eyes.

“Fuck sake—“ you grit, scooping up a spoonful of eggs and shoving them into your mouth, canting your eyebrows at Dave as you inhale them. “Satisfied?”

Neither of them says a thing, but you catch a glimpse of Joel’s smirk below his mustache as he begins shoveling food into his mouth.

You finish preparing the toast and pour each of them a cup of coffee before serving yourself.

“Thanks,” Dave says, quietly, his eyes sliding down your body, tongue trailing his lips.

“You know, I don’t even know your names,” you say, glancing between the two men.

“Dave,” he replies. “And this is Joel.”

“Well, you already know my name. Nice to meet you, Dave and Joel,” you say.

Silence settles between the three of you while you eat, you seated between them, pouring more coffee when their cups inevitably empty.

You stay like that for a while, mulling over what to say next.

Dave is the first to break the silence.

“Thank you. For breakfast. And for…last night,” he says, averting his gaze.

You smirk.

“I’m not a bad person, you know.”

“Never said you were,” he responds.

“Just a name on a piece of paper.”

“That’s right. The infamous Datura.”

“I don’t kill indiscriminately like you do. I kill bad people. Corrupt politicians. Crooked cops. Genocidal maniacs.” You swallow down a swig of coffee. “But I guess I should have known better than to take out a senator’s son this time.”

“You know, we’re all putting our lives on the line, too, by not completing the contract,” Dave explains. “Should probably get the fuck out of dodge. Maybe you, too.”

His lips skew into a ghost of a smirk, eyes mapping the gentle slopes of your face.

“Yeah, I figured as much.”

“We might need an extra set of eyes, if that’s the case.”

You smile, leaning across the table, resting your chin in the bowl of your palm. Your eyes sparkle sweetly as they shift between Dave and Joel.

“Dave, are you offering me a job?”

His hand comes up to hook around the back of your neck, lips crashing into yours as his other hand grips and squeezes your hip, making you whine when his fingers graze one of many tender spots.

You hear a throaty chuckle rise from Joel next to you.

“Take it that’s a yes, darlin’.”

FIN.

#pedro pascal #writing #fanfic #romance #smut #author #pedro fanfic #dark romance #dave york #joel miller

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tojiscumdumpster · 4 months

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⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ii. reader

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⭑๋࣭ summary page

please refresh your memory of the content warnings that's mentioned on the summary page. this chapter will include s*xual activites.

I am met with the sun glaring at me through the windows of my penthouse and the feel of my Siamese cat, Oreo, rubbing her head on my face to wake me up for her breakfast. And of course, left with the emptiness of the bed I hoped would be filled with my husband. I rub my eyes to glance at the clock to see that it’s nine o’clock, which is way past my regular wake up time. It’s been a while since I slept in, and my mind immediately replayed the events of last night.

I cheated on my husband.

I didn't know how to feel about it, however, I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel good.

My sore body would tell me otherwise.

I don’t remember the last time I had sex. The last time I was looked at and fucked with pure hunger. The last time I was stretched and orgasmed three times in one sitting unless it was because of my vibrator. It’s been so long, the feeling started to feel foreign to me. . . Until last night.

Geto Suguru.

He has some good dick on him, but damn, he’s a fucking asshole. Nothing I’m not used to, though. It seems like my pussy has a soft spot for them. I’ve denied men and their advances for months, years, at that. But my body was craving to be worshiped. To feel alive again. I’ve been neglected by my husband for far too long. He hasn’t touched me, let alone looked at me in almost ten months. I’m always met with the excuse that he’s tired or busy with work.

Of course, my first thought was to think maybe he was going through something mentally, so I tried to make sure that he was okay, but he told me not to worry.

I thought he wasn’t attracted to me anymore. I have gained weight since we got married. When I brought that up, rather than reassure me, he said I was overthinking, which only led me to overthink even more.

Cheating never crossed my mind regardless of his promiscuous past he had before we met.

He wouldn’t do that to me.

Right, Y/N?

No. He wouldn’t. It’s just—I can’t win in this marriage, and the natural thing to do is ask for a divorce, but what am I supposed to do? I’m a stay-at-home housewife wife in a foreign country. I trusted my husband enough to take care of me because that’s what he promised.

At least he was able to stick to his word about that.

It feels nice not to work. Be spoiled and have the luxuries. But I don’t care about that. I wanted to be loved and feel wanted. I crave attention from my husband. Not anyone else.

Just take it for me.

I just want to make you cum one more time. Is that okay?

Oreo’s meowing breaks me from my memories of last night.

“Ah. Okay, okay. I’m sorry, Oreo,” I say, scratching behind her ear. “Let’s get you some food.” I get out of bed and make my way to the kitchen to fill my starving feline’s bowl and pour her water.

I need to get my day started. I remembered I have a lunch date with my best friend at noon, so I headed to the bathroom to get ready.

After showering, I stood in front of the mirror while brushing my teeth and noticed a love mark on the left side of my neck.

“Fuck,” I mutter to myself.

I’m not too fond of hickys, but I was too busy being a whimpering mess while getting stuffed with cock that wasn’t my husband’s. I don’t need to worry about him seeing. He’s on a business trip, so I’m sure it’ll be healed by the time he returns.

It’s not like he pays attention to me anyways.

But I need to cover it up for my lunch date with my best friend because I know she’ll throw back-to-back questions at me that I don’t feel like answering.

That was my first and last time cheating on my husband, and I’m not planning on doing it again.

Thank you for giving me this good pussy.

Do you realize how good you feel?

His words invade my mind and pool wetness between my thighs. I finish brushing my teeth and stare at myself in the mirror.

Suguru touched me. The touch of his hands exploring my curves lingers on and burns my flesh. Our fornication wasn’t even intimate, but I felt like I was taken care of. A stranger was able to figure out my kinks and pinpoints that made me explode.

I want him.

I wanted to be fucked like that again—but only by him .

“Gosh, Y/N. What the hell is wrong with you?” Again, I whisper out loud to myself because, yes. What is wrong with me?

I’m married. I have been for seven years. I shouldn’t be lusting over another man. This gnawing guilt in my stomach won’t go away. It’s fine. I’ll be okay. I’ll tell my husband when he returns and atone for my sins. Until then, I won’t have to worry about seeing Suguru again. I won’t think about him either. Despite how fucking good he made me feel. It shouldn’t be hard. We didn’t exchange numbers. So I will be okay.

Right?

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀A month later. . .

My errands for today consisted of grocery shopping and picking out new furniture for the penthouse I share with my husband. I’m tired of staring at the black-and-white décor. I love the combination, but the lack of warmth makes me feel even more alone. If I can’t feel at home with my husband, then I’ll make it feel like home for myself. It’s missing earth tones, plants, colors, everything.

It would be easy for me to hire an interior designer, but doing it myself will keep me busy and my mind off of...

Look at my pretty girl taking this fucking cock.

His pretty girl. . .

Y/N. No.

How I abused my clit since that night with Suguru, I know she’s tired of me. It’s been a month. I should’ve forgotten about him by now. And I definitely should’ve already told my husband. I just couldn’t find the courage to do so.

He returned from his business trip four days after I cheated on him and I didn’t care to mention it. I figured if we didn’t sleep together, let alone in the same room, what was the point of telling him? I honestly think he wouldn’t care. He probably is cheating on me. He's forty years old and I know his libido is through the roofs.

I would know.

Nothing can convince me that he hasn’t had sex in ten months. Every month he has a business trip. Maybe he’s off to see his mistress. Who knows?

I’m making dinner tonight and he said he’ll be there. I’m not holding it to him, though. If he shows, I’ll tell him about my infidelity then.

All this shopping I did is making me tired. Coffee in the middle of the day sounds right to me. It didn’t take long for me to pull up to my favorite bakery. I walked inside and allowed the sweet aroma of treats and the nuttiness of freshly brewed coffee to infiltrate my senses.

The shop is pretty busy, so the line is long as expected. While I wait, I give my attention to my phone and scroll through my unread messages:

Best friend

Girl, I am long overdue for a vacation. Let’s start planning!

Mom

Honey, you’re coming home for the holidays. Right? Your father and I miss you.

Husband.

What time are you coming home?

Why the fuck does he care? I replied to my best friend and mother but left my husband unread. Since when does he care for my whereabouts? Annoyance pricks my skin just seeing the message. I opted to call him instead of texting him back to see if there was something he needed, but the interruption of a familiar voice from behind caught my attention.

“Excuse me, beautiful. It looks like you’re next.”

No . It couldn’t be.

I whip lashed my head around to be met with dark raven hair that’s pulled into a bun, different from what I remember a month ago.

Those tattooed covered arms I remember holding me up while fucking my pussy.

We’re no longer in a dimmed setting, so the light shines on his irises allowing the deep violet color to become evident. Specks of sweat coats his forehead, and by his attire, he must’ve finished working out. But even so, he smells so damn good. Dark. Woody with a mixture of his natural odor.

Fuck, Y/N. Get it together.

I cleared my throat, pretending like I wasn’t affected by his presence. “Geto.”

“Suguru,” he countered.

I was so stunned by his appearance and became distracted from our intense eye contact, I didn’t even realize the barista was calling me forward because I was next in line.

I immediately looked away from Suguru to move up, place my order, and attempted to pay, but of course, Suguru had other plans.

He came beside me and pulled out his card. “We’re together. Coffee. Tall. Dark. No milk or sugar.”

“I can pay-”

“For your tab. I know,” he interrupted. It’s like deja vu from the night we. . .

Y/N.

He continued. “Gosh, can I simply just be kind and pay for you? Are you really that prideful?”

“Go fu-” I realized he was teasing me, so reacting would only give him the satisfaction he was looking for. “Thank you, Geto.”

“Suguru and you’re welcome, Y/N,” he smirks.

How he says my name causes me to swallow a small gulp and subtly squeeze my thighs. It’s like those pale pink lips were meant to say my name.

No. I’m not supposed to be having these pornographic thoughts about him anymore. It’s time for me to go.

I thank the barista for making my drink and storm out the door to head back to my car. But of course, behind me comes the reason for these wet fantasies in my mind and why power walking out the bakery.

“Y/N!”

I continued walking. “What do you want?”

“I haven’t seen you in a month and you’re acting like I’m some kind of pestering bug.” He finally catches up to me, softly grabs my wrists, and turns me around. That touch spreads chills throughout my body and alarms my pussy. I just know any longer with him I’m going to explode.

I can feel Suguru looking at me, but I refuse to meet his eyes. “What do you want?” I ask again.

“I just want to see how you’re doing. Maybe get to know you. Is that okay?” He asks, gently.

I just want to make you cum one more time. Is that okay?

Fuck.

“Okay. Fine. You can walk me to my car, but after that, leave me alone. Got it?” I demanded.

He chuckles, throwing his hands up in surrender, flexing those sexy arms. “Got it.”

For the next few minutes, I walk in silence while listening to Suguru talk and ask me questions that I give nods or vague answers. Eventually, time slows down and it feels like my car is further away the more he and I talk. But honestly, I don’t mind.

Aside from his asshole tendencies, he's sweet. His constant compliments that I haven’t heard in a while make my cheeks warm. I’m blessed with dark skin because had it been otherwise, I would have resembled a cherry tomato.

We disposed of our finished coffee cups and finally reached my car, which he coincidentally parked right next to me.

I leaned against my door and looked into his eyes. “Hm, I haven’t seen you in a month, you end up at my favorite bakery, and you’re parked right next to me?” I ask, teasingly. “If I didn’t know any better, you’ve been keeping tabs on me, Geto.”

He closes the space between us, rubbing his hand along my arms. “Or maybe it’s just fate?”

I slowly but surely feel myself coming undone from his subtle actions and how he speaks to me. I know what I’m doing isn’t right, but I just can’t bring myself to say no. Suguru gives me the attention I want. The attention I’ve been yearning for from my husband, and I can’t deny it any longer.

“ . . . Geto ,” I say barely above a whisper.

“ Suguru, baby. Call me, Suguru.” He runs his nose along my neck, deeply inhaling my scent and exhaling in pure pleasure.

His hand that’s rubbing my arms trails down to intertwine with my fingers while his other rests on my hips. That touch I can't get rid of returns to my skin and the heat of his hands burns me all over again. I don’t know when, how, or why but I whimper.

Take this cock like a good girl because I know you can.

Yes. I want to take it. I need to again, but I...

“I can’t, Suguru. I can’t,” I murmured.

He peppers soft yet possessive kisses across my face before descending to my jaw and neck. “You can, baby. You can. I can’t stop thinking about that night.” He nips my flesh. “ About you. ”

I whimper again.

“I miss you so much, Y/N. Every fucking night for the past thirty days I’ve been fisting my cock while thinking about you. Thinking about your soft moans and how sweet you sound while saying my name.”

“Suguru. . . please .”

“Fucking that tight pussy to get rid of that spicy attitude you have that drives me insane.” He begins palming my clothed pussy in the middle of the parking lot and I’m too mind fucked to have any shame.

He continues. “Your husband isn’t taking care of you, angel, so let me. Use me for your pleasure.”

Will you do that for me?

Thirty seconds didn’t even pass until I unlocked the door of my Escalade and climbed into the back seat to be fucked once again by someone who isn’t my husband.

Everything about Suguru is intoxicating.

His lips that I love the feel of against mine.

His body that molds perfectly with mine.

And his hands that are so slender yet strong, holding me in place while I ride his cock, on the verge of cumming for the second time. He fills me. All eight-in-a-half inches stretch me the more I drop down his length. My pussy will probably never get used to Suguru, but I will never deny the pleasure she seeks.

Our skin slapping resonates in the air of my car along with our shared moans and my wetness responding to him. I wrap my arms around his neck to deepen our kiss, bouncing even harder on his cock.

“Fuck, angel. You’re doing such a good job riding my cock. I love it when you make a mess on me.” He says it like I’m all that he’s used to, causing my pussy to clench in response.

“Suguru, you’re so deep,” I cry.

“Hm, I know baby but don’t tell me you can’t handle it. You see how pretty you look when you’re confident? Taking every single last inch of me?”

I moan, but that wasn’t a good enough answer for him. So he asks again.

“Answer me, Y/N”—he breaks our kiss to press his fingers in my cheeks to pucker my lips—“Do you see how pretty you look when you’re confidently taking my cock?”

“Yes, Suguru. Yes, I do.” I don’t care how pathetic I sound. When I’m being stuffed like this and this good, I’ll say anything to please him.

“Tell me you can take it, princess,” he orders, softly.

“I can take it, Suguru. I can take it.”

He smirks, kissing my lips. “Hm, that’s my girl. Go ahead. Use me to make yourself cum. Okay?”

I nod. He leans back with his arms spread across the head of my car seats to watch me. My hands took purchase on his broad chest while I continued to chase my release. Every bounce I made his tip kissed my g spot, having me moan and cry his name uncontrollably.

The intensity of his deep purple irises bores into me and I can’t look away. The way he looks at me. . . It’s doing indescribable things to me and my pussy. I flatten my feet on each of his sides and slowly jump up and down on his cock. I’m rewarded with a hiss and a quick kiss on my lips for being his good girl.

“I know many men would do anything to feel how good your pussy is. I don’t deserve this,” he rasps, massaging my bottom lip with his thumb. “Tell me I don’t deserve this pussy and that I should consider myself lucky, Y/N.”

Riding his cock while hearing his praises makes me feel powerful. Like I’m all he wants to worship.

“Y-You— fuck, Suguru —You don’t deserve m-my pussy,” I stammered, bouncing harder on him. “Be glad that you’re fucking me.”

Suguru abruptly thrust upwards, pulling a sharp cry from my throat. “Fuck, yes. Yes, I’m so glad you gave me this pussy again, baby,” he groans while holding my ass cheeks to spread. “Can I fuck you, angel? Please let me fuck you.” He asks me this but has already started pumping his cock inside of me.

“Yes, Suguru. God, fuck me. I’m right there!”

His balls swings against my ass the deeper he fucks into me. The tears that I had the last time we had sex returned, but this time they feel more intense because this fucking feels more intense. It’s like he has grown since the last time. His grips are more firm and his thrusts are more precise. I feel my juices and cream trickling down his cock, creating gushing noises that join our foreign moans. My car windows are up tight, but from anyone looking outside they would know what's going on by how the car rocks the harder he fucks me.

I cuff his cheeks and rest my forehead against his, shaking and whimpering that I’m about to cum because I feel the bubble in my stomach that is less than a minute away from exploding with my release.

How can I feel guilty about cheating on my husband while I’m being fucked like this—again.

“Best fucking pussy I ever had. I love how wet I make you, Y/N,” he breathes. “Cum for me, angel. Please , cum with me.”

And it was like that. . . Those three words caused my orgasm to wash over him while we cum together.

Suguru’s moans were harsh and hitched, slowing down his fervent thrusts while he finished emptying his release in the condom. Our lips met again to swallow how sweet and intoxicating our sounds of pleasure tastes. He nipped harshly on my tongue, and if I didn’t know any better, I was bleeding but I honestly don't care. It shows he’s possessive.

And I like that.

Having sex feels amazing, but there’s something about the after-high sex that does something to my body. I could tell Suguru feels the same way.

After we cleaned ourselves up, courtesy of the wipes that I keep in my glove department, Suguru and I sat in silence. How he was ogling me told me everything I needed to know.

“You want to do this again. Don’t you?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“I think we both do. You’re just denying it, and I don’t know why.”

“Because I’m ma-”

“Don’t tell me it’s because you’re married because, again, I do not care .” He enunciates every syllable of his last words to make them believable, which I find myself believing.

I look down at the pear-cut wedding ring on my finger that I used to cherish deeply, however, now I feel nothing but sadness when I look at it. Ten months have passed since my husband touched me. I don’t even remember the last time he said the words I love you to me. My marriage gives me security, but Suguru gives me. . . comfort . This is the second time we’ve had sex and I know my needs can be fulfilled by him.

Don’t do it, Y/N. Go work things out with your husband.

I’ve tried.

I’ve tried to for over a year. It just doesn’t feel the same anymore. Eventually, I’ll ask for a divorce, but for now—I think I’ll enjoy myself.

“Okay. . .”

“Okay?” He repeats, questioning.

“Just sex, Suguru. No romantic feelings. No dates. Nothing intimate. Just sex. Don’t think I’m going to leave my husband for you because I’m not. I’m making that clear now, and if you can’t agree to my terms, then I’m serious. . . You won’t see me again.”

He smirks, leaning over to kiss me. “That fucking spicy attitude of yours is going to drive me insane, especially when I know how sweet you sound when you cum on my cock.”

I swat his chest, playfully. “Suguru, I’m serious.”

I may or may not know what I’m getting myself into, but I know I’m more than sure about telling my husband. Despite how fucked up my marriage is right now, we’ve never had lies, and that’s not something I’m planning on starting.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ Later that evening. . .

The sounds of cutlery kissing plates and pouring wine into a glass are all I can hear while I have dinner with my husband. The silence is so loud, I’m convinced I can hear every piece of food that swallows down his throat. I’m surprised we’re even having dinner together. Usually, he grabs his plate and heads into his office. I guess he’s tired of eating alone with his thoughts. But why was he so eager for me to come home just to not utter one word to me?

Not a kiss on the cheek.

Not a hug.

Not waiting in the living room for me.

Was all he needed for his sweet trophy wife to come home to make dinner for him?

My eyes pierce his head while I sip on my third glass of wine. I study the man I’m foolishly still madly in love with.

Toji Zen'in.

Memories of those strong arms that are decorated with ink, being wrapped around me at night, play in my mind. When there was a time my soul felt at peace when he looked at me with those jade-colored hues that resembled a rainforest. His midnight locks I tucked my fingers in every time he was in my depths making sweet love to me. Even his jasmine and citrus scent still does something to me. I remember how he makes me feel.

Made me feel.

Looking at him and having sex with Suguru made me realize I have a type.

Dark-haired assholes with tattoos that know how to please me.

Just my luck.

“Something’s wrong?” His deep voice breaks me from my thoughts.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re just staring at me.”

I scoffed. “Didn’t think there was an issue looking at my husband. That’s what you are to me, no?”

He shifts in his chair. “No, there isn’t an issue, and yes I’m your husband, but you’re staring at me like you have something to say.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Alright.”

Here goes that unnecessary tension.

I decided to keep the conversation going. “So why did you text me when I’m coming home?”

“Didn’t think there was an issue with wanting to know when my wife is coming home.” This motherfucker.

“Toji, stop fucking with me. Look at your message thread and tell me when’s the last time you asked me when I’m coming home, let alone ask me anything at all.”

“Again, is there something you want to get off your chest, Y/N? What’s up with all this anim-”

“I’m having an affair.” I blurted.

“. . . What?” He asks, but I know he heard me. Maybe he’s trying to make sure he heard correctly. So I’ll repeat myself.

“An affair. I’m having one.”

He flexes his fingers around the glass of water, and seeing how his veins protruded, I could tell this wasn’t the news he was expecting to hear. I mean, who would want to hear from their spouse that they’re cheating?”

His jaw clenches. “With who? Where’d you meet him?”

“Some guy I met at the bar.”

“What’s his name?”

I arch my brow. “Why does it matter?”

“Y/N. Stop fucking with me. What’s his name?” He asks through gritted teeth.

“Geto Suguru.”

He nods, sipping on his water. “For how long?”

“Not long. Met him last month. Left it at that, then I ran into him today .”

“So you didn’t answer my text because you were too busy being some motherfucker’s cum bucket?”

His harsh words hit me with full force causing me to jump. I feel my heart being squeezed and tears pricking my eyes. In no shape or form am I justifying my sins, but being referred to as a cum bucket was not what I expected.

“Fuck you, Toji,” I hissed. I grabbed my empty dish and excused myself to the kitchen to clean up.

“ Shit . . . Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

I turned around. “Yes, you did. Don’t tell you didn’t because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have said it.”

Toji gets up and strides toward me. “How else do you expect me to react when my wife of seven fucking years tells me she’s cheating on me? Tell me!”

“You can be mad. You can look at me differently or I don’t know, at all. But a cum bucket Toji? Really?” My voice breaks while tears watered down my cheeks. “When was the last time you touched me? Look at me. Said you love me? When was the last time, huh?”

He sighs. “Y/N, you know I love you. Don’t say that.”

“Do I?”

“Unbelievable,” he mutters to himself. “You fucking cheat on ME and now you’re trying to flip this on me?”

“No one’s flipping shit, Toji! I’m telling you why I did it. I’m not justifying my infidelity. It may sound like I am, but I’m not,” I tell him. “I just don’t feel like your wife anymore. This ring says we’re married, but how I feel says otherwise.”

He shakes his head. “And what the fuck do you mean by having ? You’re still going to see this motherfucker?”

I looked away.

That should answer him.

“Y/N. . . I’m going to leave now. I’ll be back when I feel like it, and when I do, I hope you reconsider the answer you just gave me before acting on it.”

I scrunched my brows together. “Are you— Are you threatening me? ”

“Oh, no. Not you, sweetheart. Definitely not you.” Those were the last words he said to me before he walked out the door, slamming it so hard, a few of our frames falls to the tiled floor.

I know Toji. I’m very aware of his past and his threats are more like promises. I can’t help but stand there and think I should reconsider this affair because I don’t need to be the reason why someone gets killed.

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#jjk x black reader #jjk x reader #anime x black!reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru x black reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru x reader #geto x black reader #geto x reader

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bonny-kookoo · 11 months

Note

But Ninny, just imagine lock me up mc going into preheat and defective Yoongi gets all protective over her 🥺 anon was onto something with that heat ask honestly 😮‍💨 jk jk….unless 👀

You're antsy again, right when he'd thought he'd gotten you comfortable enough so you wouldn't try and escape anymore.

But your little outdoor adventures aren't of the usual kind either- you definitely stay in close proximity to his home, never even reach the streets, always rather roaming the rooftops, and he can see on his little GPS tracker on his laptop that you're somewhat pacing around.

Something's off, and he needs to know what.

When he reaches the rooftops, it's a little windy. Not too chilly, but a nice fresh wind blows, sun setting- and there you are, rolling on your back in the bright golden sun. "You're getting your clothes dirty." He comments, and your tail snaps up at his words, as you roll again to sit on your knees now, some dead leaves caught in your hair- but one flick of your ear and its gone with the wind, while you look at him like you're conflicted.

"I wanna sleep here tonight." You tell him, and his brows lower in confusion.

He's keeping his distance- both because he's not sure if you'll try and jump because down the line it wouldn't surprise him considering your rather... spontaneous nature, and also because your body language screams at him to stay away.

"Its gonna be cold." He tries to reason. "Why'd you wanna sleep outside?" He wants to know, and you become nervous at that, moving your legs around a little to adjust the position in which you're sitting-

And that's when the wind turns a but, making him catch your scent.

Oh.

"Yeah well- you know.." you stammer, nervous. "Even if- you know, you pick up stuff for me, it'll take almost an entire day to, you know, make me not stink anymore.." you mumble more or less, not looking at him.

"You don't stink, idiot." He clicks his tongue, before sighing. This isn't something he'd planned ahead for. "I can still go downtown and pick some shit up if you tell me what you typically take, and I promise my hands stay to myself at night." He tells you.

"Hm yeah cause it's easy for you.." You say almost disappointed.

"What do you mean?" He wants to know, and you turn around at that, your back facing him as you hug your legs.

"Nothin'." You huff stubbornly. "Go get me some Feline Help, or ChangeWay, I don't care which you choose." You mumble almost incoherently into your knees, drawing something in the dirt on the ground with a stick.

"Both of those are-" he argues instantly, well aware that both brands will leave you with heavy side effects, but now you snap your head around, hissing at him.

"Just go! Leave me!" You yell at him, and he forgives your behavior for once because it's not really in your control right now. Preheat can be extremely stressful to hybrids especially when you're used to being on medication for it usually.

Though he has a feeling there's got to be a reason you're especially on edge with him. You should be the exact opposite- so why do you seem to absolutely despise his presence right now?

"Can I leave you here without having to run after you to God knows where after I come back?" He asks, and you glare at him actually angry this time.

"I'm not stupid, Detective Min." You make sure to pronounce his job title and name especially as you talk. "I'm a walking bullseye target for anyone other than you." You huff, and he squints his eyes at that.

"I see." He suddenly says, relaxing. "I get it now."

"Oh my GOD just go and get my drugs, leave!" You yell now, throwing a small rock at him- though you only prove his point, because you clearly intentionally miss him by a lot, no intention to hurt him despite your bitter tone.

"Dont worry, I'll get them." He says, not walking closer, but taking off his jacket before he throws it at you. "But you're wrong, just so you know." He has the audacity to smirk, especially when you grow wide eyed and surprised, entire world view shifted as he gives you an answer to a question you didn't even ask, while he walks back down the metal stairs to his apartment, leaving you alone with your thoughts and his scent around you.

He's absolutely not interested in you-

Or so you thought, it seems.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

-> Series Masterlist

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #min yoongi imagines #yoongi imagine #hybrid imagine #yoongi imagines #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi imagine

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oliviajdjarin · 9 months

Text

Two Birds with One Stone

Pairing: miguel x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Summary: Miguel is of the opinion that revenge is best served cold.

Warnings: blood! violent miguel, swearing, cocky miguel, probably incorrect science, some biblical references, descriptions of dead bodies, HEA. Technically a part two to Come Hell or High Water, but can be read on its own.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read part one, especially @vanilla-sweets @blueberry-thrawn @freehentai. You guys rock.

Word Count: 1.3k Type: blurb

Miguel O'Hara never knew how easy it would be rely on the omnipresent arrogance of a narcissistic Doc Oc variant. It was shocking, really, how little the Doctor believed himself capable of making a mistake. One could argue that it was his downfall, his Achilles heel, his fatal flaw.

Miguel was beginning to learn that everyone had one of those, his being the woman the Doctor still had in his titanium clutches, and that was okay. Because if there was one thing Miguel was nauseatingly good at, it was at finding people's faults.

Funny enough, he had found the way to get you back purely unwittingly.

He had been staring at his orchestra of beaming yellow monitors in the early hours of the morning and fell into the insatiably seductive trap of merely "resting his eyes."

"Just for a minute," he whispered, voice dripping in aching exhaustion, and dropped his head right onto the keyboard.

After a moment, he was woken by a piercing ringing in his ears. He figured it was a rogue anomaly alarm, causing him to bring his tender neck up and his swollen eyes scanning his screens once more. It took a few seconds for Miguel to process what he was looking at.

A tiny, flashing, lime green light blinking right at the center of the Spider-Verse, its diagnostic reading "Anomaly Found, Canon At Risk."

He shook his head, readying himself for disappointment. There was no way the Doctor would just...reveal himself, right? Unless it was a trap? Or some kind of scheme?

Or maybe, just maybe, the Doctor had made a mistake.

Miguel clicked on the diagnostic, reading further into the fine print. His eyes squinted as he read, one word from the comprehensive paragraph burning into his beaten frontal lobe.

Being currently dozing.

He rubbed his eyes, reading the words again, and again, and again.

The Doctor had fucking fallen asleep, effectively de-powering his tracking repellant installed in the chip of his brainstem. Without his conscious mind keeping the arms powered, therefore not keeping the inhibitor powered, his restrictions on his location were terminated.

Therefore, the restrictions on your location were terminated.

Miguel felt coolness drape itself over his body, a twitching sensation begin in his left eye, and an itching, tiny, yet incandescent glow begin to bloom across his chest and down his thighs.

The familiar, almost homey, grounding feeling of calculation and strategizing washed over him like a baptism. Renewing him from the wallowing man he had been, to the righteous one he was.

He knew how to be quick. He knew how to be efficient. He knew that getting you out was the main priority, while defeating the Doctor was secondary.

But Miguel had never been talented at only using his head.

A chilling, feline smile etched its way onto his face, his fangs dipping slightly over his bottom lip. His triceps flexed, his eyes narrowed, and his determination dropped like a stone in his stomach, sending ripples through the rest of his muscles.

Why not kill two birds with one stone?

"In the name of efficiency, of course," he mumbled, and powered up his gizmo.

~*~

Miguel O'Hara realized two things at once.

Firstly, Miguel didn't realize what he had done. The scope of it, the brevity, the fucking gore of it. Not until he stood still, the Doctor's mutilated corpse in front of him, metallic arms ripped from his body, clutched in Miguel's hands, dripping ooze and blood and bone.

Miguel didn't realize what he had done until that moment, and consecutively, how little he cared.

He hadn't hesitated. Not when the Doctor begged for mercy, just as Miguel had done. Not when the light began to slowly fade from the Doctor's eyes as his back became shredded, his spine shattered, and his brain ripped in half. Not when blood so red it was almost wine colored began dripping from Miguel's claws, effectively soaking the skin of his abdomen and upper thighs. No, Miguel hadn't hesitated.

And he didn't fucking care.

"Y/N," he yelled, throwing the dismembered pieces onto the metallic floor. He was in a warehouse of some kind, likely of the Doctor's own design. It was cold, grey, and composed of only panels and panels of sound-proof metal. No one could hear what was happening from the outside, and no one inside could hear what was happening outside.

His skin crawled and his jaw clenched at the thought.

He yelled your name once, twice, three more times. His fangs protruding from how wide he was opening his mouth, his deep bloodlust-filled voice regurgitating across the walls in an echo with a thrilling crescendo. He began to panic, his chest puffing at the thought that the Doctor had taken you somewhere else. That he sacrificed himself on purpose to send Miguel on an endless goose chase that ended with his own eventual death.

Because he would never stop searching. Never. You were worth spending the rest of his life a shepherd, looking for his one lost sheep.

He opened his mouth and strained his vocal chords one final time, and just as he was about to scream your name in a way that made every emotion he was feeling completely transparent to you, he heard a clanging from beneath his feet, and the muffled sound of his name.

His eyes locked on the bolts surrounding the small square he was standing on, as well as a small vent near his left foot, and realization washed over him.

It took him less than fifteen seconds to pry the hatch open, and pull you out.

His brain became muffled at the sight of you again - eyes he had gotten to know the color of so well, mouth with lips he could never seem to wipe away the feeling of, neck and jawline he had been desperate to trace one last time. Your features had always been striking to him, and with the blood and grime from the last few days strewn across them, he somehow found them even more so.

He only took a few seconds to admire you before practically tearing your suit in half, inspecting your wounds.

"Miguel," you said, you voice noticeably groggier from multiple days without use, "he let me bandage and clean them. I'm fine."

Miguel ran his fingers over your middle, inspecting your craftsmanship, pressing down on the bandages to ensure any bleeding or oozing had long since passed. He felt your soft fingers grasp underneath his chin, bringing his head up. You didn't hesitate to press his equally dirty forehead to yours, closing your eyes, breathing him in.

"I'm fine," you repeated, and Miguel exhaled shakily.

He let himself bask in the moment, forgetting the pain and carnage of the past, and the uncertainty of the future. Here he was, here and now, with his woman.

He hadn't failed you.

You brushed his hair from his face before pressing a quick kiss to his chiseled cheekbone. You then attempted to stand up before halting halfway, your face grimacing at the strain of the motion against your torn muscles.

He rotated your worn body into his arms, picking you up as a husband would his bride, and holding you close. He walked you from the warehouse, leaving the Doctor's body to wither and rot.

He grinned down at you. "How did you get him to fall asleep?"

You snorted, eyes closing against his swol chest. "You said I could experiment with my suit whenever I wanted. I took advantage of the opportunity," you said with a yawn.

Miguel's eyebrows furrowed when he caught the cocktail of scents in the air - carly sage, fresh roses, and a hint of lavender oil. You must have installed a ventilation of it as a fail-safe, the vent in your dungeon the perfect vessel to permeate it around the room.

He couldn't help but grin. "You truly scare me sometimes."

You looked up at Miguel one last time before succumbing to the exhaustion of your wounds. "You've never scared me."

He had never heard anything sweeter.

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @buckysblondie @tayleighuh

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara smut #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse spoilers #oscar isaac fic

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alkhale · 8 months

Note

that bit of manu being the helicopter parent is so funny when you consider their lineage to the popoki goddess. if a feline cub is near u, the parent is definitely nearby watching u 😂 what i would give to see an au of manu and mahina living and manu is not so lowkey watching asl when the 4 become friends like a wild cat hiding behind the bushes, he did not let up the 🤨 expression even when hoku gotten older and there are more men than he like for them to be around hoku

Mahina stopped just short of bringing her hammer down onto the slab of metal sitting over her workbench.

A loud rustle from the front of the house caught her attention. The older woman blinked, tilting her head curiously as she set the metal aside and kept the hammer in her grip, twirling it around her fingers out of habit.

Her long white braid swung easily against her back. An ocean breeze tickled the ends, bringing Mahina's gaze outwards to the coast. Her workshop sat right beside their little house on the cliffside hill, looking right out to the ocean before them.

A short, familiar curse reached her ears and she grinned now, slinging the hammer lightly over her shoulder. "You moving the furniture again?"

Manu frowned. He'd been letting his hair grow out a bit this time, silken ends tied off just at the base of his neck with an old ribbon—one of Hoku's, she realized fondly. Their usual patio furniture sat in a cultish huddle around him, rocking chairs gazing back as Manu crossed his arms over his chest.

"Do you think they looked better where they used to be or how I had them yesterday?"

Mahina tipped her head to the side.

"How did they look yesterday again?"

Manu sighed, shaking his head. Mahina grinned cheekily, almost skipping over to her dearest friend as she came up to the steps of their home. "Are you going through your mid-life crisis now? Hoku won't mind them either way, you know."

Manu scowled, looking at her like a cat caught getting wet. Mahina laughed, coming over to help him move the chairs back into place as she set the hammer down. "What made you think she'd care if you moved them?"

"At first I wanted to move them to do something different," Manu explained slowly, evenly as he carefully polished off each chair and Mahina idly checked the wood for stray splinters. Not a single one to be found, of course, because the two of them were damn good at what they did. "But then I woke up last night—remember when I went down and started painting?"

"Of course I do, you almost gave me a heart attack."

"You? Right, Hina," Mahina laughed and Manu continued, "But then I woke up and realized, what if she's expecting everything to look the same way it did when she left? What if seeing it different will make her sad? Shouldn't I just leave it the way it was then?"

"But it's still the same chair," Mahina said, taking a seat in one of the rockers once it'd been moved. Manu immediately took up a seat beside her. "I don't think she'd mind how you moved it."

"You think?"

"Mmm, she's a funny one, that girl. I don't think she'd mind much at all unless you did something more drastic... like changing the paint or putting it on the roof?"

"Hina, why on earth would I ever—"

The sound of a car engine slowing to stop brought the two of them to a halt. Mahina and Manu froze, blinking in confusion at each other as they immediately shot their feet, rushing over to the pathway leading down their hill.

A car they did not recognize sat at the base of the hill, parked along the grassy edge. Mahina frowned in curiosity while Manu looked thoughtful, glancing to his watch. "Hoku's supposed to get picked up from the airport tomorrow—"

Both of them stopped as a familiar face appeared at the base of the hill, kicking the door to their rental car open. Manu caught a brief glimpse of a smooth hand reaching for her, as though in concern, but she was barreling out of the car before they could touch.

It was a face Mahina and Manu would know, in their dreams, every waking moment, and up to their last breath.

A happiness Manu had once never known and now could not fathom otherwise flooded his chest. Mahina's eyes sparkled, bright with mirth and love and the two of them began making their way down the hill as their daughter rushed to meet them.

"Mama! Papa!"

"Maka!"

Hoku's arms wrapped around her parents. Manu and Mahina embraced her in an instant, completing their circle of three. Snow white hair mingled with each other, a sense of perfect peace settling for a moment in unison as Manu shut his eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of their daughter, carding his fingers through her hair. Mahina's hand moved over her back, down the side of her arm—their daughter, theirs.

(Their beautiful baby girl.)

"Maka, it's been too long," Mahina murmured sweetly, eyes full of warmth as she pulled back, only an arm's length away to get a full view of their daughter. "You look good."

"You could afford to eat a bit more," Manu said, briefly pinching Hoku's arm to test for her weight. Hoku laughed, rocking back on her heels and almost taking her parents with her. "You're early! Why did you come without telling us? I would've gotten everything ready and—"

"He's had everything ready for weeks," Mahina said. Manu gaped at her. "He's still getting more ready. I haven't seen the fridge this full since—"

"I haven't heard you complain about it since you've been snacking plenty on the—"

"I wanted to surprise you guys!" Hoku said happily, positively glowing at her parents. Manu and Mahina quieted, hands still rubbing up and down their daughter, mapping the shape of her, how she looked now, her face full of life, content.

(Happy.)

"I always had the flight booked a day early, just wanted to make it a fun trip," Hoku said. She turned over her shoulder, grinning down at the base of the hill. "And well... maybe introduce you to a few new faces?"

Mahina raised a curious brow, slipping her arm through Hoku's as they made their way down the hill. Manu looked skeptical, walking right at their side and absently nudging Hoku away from any dips and rocks.

"HEEEEEYYYY MAMA HOKU!! PAPA HOKU!!!"

Mahina looked amused while Manu snorted in disbelief. Luffy appeared around the other side of the car, almost leaping into the air as he jumped up and down to wave to them. "LONG TIME NO SEE!"

"That boy isn't a new face," Manu said, watching Luffy run around to the trunk now. "I didn't know he was coming. I would've doubled the fridge—"

Mahina noticed the two men stepping out of the car before Manu, her raised brow raising even higher as an amused whistle sat on her lips. She turned now to where Manu had frozen stiff, staring in cold, incredulous silence at the two men standing at the base of their hill.

Two dashing young men stood beside the rental car, watching the three make their way down the hill. Mahina realized who they were in an instant, as she was sure Manu did as well, despite his cool silence. She could hear the judgement in his gaze as he skimmed the more tan one up and down, from his sandaled feet and board shorts to his open chest and unbuttoned shirt. Mahina like the wild way the wind tousled his black hair—this one was Ace.

The more respectable blonde man was Sabo, she realized. He stood instead of leaning against the car like his brother, hands clasped politely in front of him, a small smile already on his lips, but Mahina noticed his eyes never left her daughter, watching and tracking her steps down the hill with practiced ease. A sort of softness.

"I wanted to introduce the two of you!" Hoku said as they drew nearer to the car. "I know I always talk about Ace and Sabs, but you've only ever known them in photos and stuff... so when they mentioned they were able to get some time off work..."

"I think the photos are fine enough," Manu said simply. Hoku laughed and Mahina grinned. Her daughter was sharp, but she wasn't Mahina's sharpest creation in certain aspects, that much she was sure.

"I know it's sudden, and they don't want to bother," Hoku said. "But they've always wanted to meet you guys, they almost beg me to be honest. I thought, eh, might as well, right?"

"They seem fun," Mahina managed.

"That one doesn't know how to button his shirt," Manu said.

Hoku grinned, tugging her parents down the rest of the way. Up close Mahina could see clearly just how handsome these two young men were—fit, chiseled, matching better than the strange, blurred photos her daughter would send from time to time. They both straightened in unison at the sight of Manu and Mahina, rushing forward with outstretched hands.

"Mama, Papa, this is Ace and Sabo!" Hoku introduced proudly, nose somewhat thrusted in the air with a bright grin. "Ace, Sabo—my parents!"

"Hoku's mom and dad it's nice—"

"Miss Mahina, Mister Manu—"

Ace and Sabo stopped, looking at each other with round eyes. Sabo's expression instantly schooled into a cooler one, motioning quickly with his eyes while Ace gaped until his brother blinked, nodding.

"Miss Mahina! Mister Manu!" Ace and Sabo said in unison this time, beaming politely and widely at the two of them. "It's a pleasure and an honor to finally meet you!"

Mahina decided slyly to follow in Manu's steps, glancing sideways as her friend's face became one of quiet politeness—she knew this expression of his like the back of her hand, a frigid sort of coolness beneath its quiet.

"...It's good to meet the both of you as well," Manu said simply. Hoku positively beamed between her mother and father. Ace and Sabo continued to smile, a crooked grin and a polite upturn of lips respectively. Mahina took that as her cue and shook their hands first, both their gazes flying to her.

Mahina watched Ace do a double take, a soft redness coloring the tips of his ears at the sight of her. He bowed especially deep when she took his hand, "Mama—Miss Mahina, thank you for leaving Hoku in our care."

"Well, she's always got some fun stories to tell thanks to you lot," Mahina said slowly, a bit of a tease to her tone. She turned to Sabo next, considering this upstanding looking young man and wondering what little thoughts he kept hidden behind those quiet eyes. "Thank you for looking after our daughter."

"Hoku's very dear to us," Sabo said sincerely. Hoku made a face, looking at him. Dramatic, Mahina heard her think without saying. "She's always speaking so much about the both of you, it's a pleasure to finally—"

"What were your names again?"

Ace and Sabo blinked, looking back at Manu. Hoku didn't even seem the slightest bit bothered, swaying happily on her feet until she noticed Luffy by the trunk. Hoku quickly scampered off, shouting something about not eating the gifts.

"A-Ace," Ace said quickly, offering his hand. Manu considered it for a second longer than most and shook it silently. "Ace, uh, Mister Manu."

"I'm Sabo," Sabo repeated as well, extending his hand. Manu considered it just as long before shaking it briefly. "Thank you again for—"

"That's... polite of you to drop Hoku off," Manu said. He pulled his hand away, facing both Ace and Sabo. "What time is your flight home?"

Ace looked dumbfounded, blinking repeatedly. Sabo looked a bit perplexed, blinking at a slower pace at Manu as his lips parted to respond. Mahina withheld her grin, offering instead and politely curious expression.

Maybe she was being a bit mean, but she didn't get to see Manu like this often—it'd be too fun to tease him later.

"Uh, well," Ace started. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his brow. "Tuesday... when Hoku leaves..."

"I see, quite some time then," Manu said smoothly. "Where will you two be staying? Somewhere close? We're quite a ways away from the nearest hotel where most have to stay."

"Oh, well," Sabo began gracefully, an easy, polite smile settled over his lips. Mahina understood the situation instantly and had to give it to the young man for recovering as quick as he did. "Yes, we were planning on booking over by—"

Ace looked confused, snapping his head to Sabo. "But we're supposed to be—"

Sabo's heel smacked into Ace's shin, a quick, efficient kick. Mahina did her best not to laugh when his eyes bulged. "Excuse me, we're booking by—"

"I told them they could stay with us!" Hoku called over, appearing over the popped lid of the trunk, her arms wrapped around one of the suitcases while Luffy hauled a box over the top of his head. "There's the spare bedroom in mama's workshop if that's okay?"

Manu quietly tipped his head to the side, considering the new development in silence. Ace shifted unsteadily on his feet, looking quite a bit out of his element while Mahina simply allowed her lips to curl into a grin, lightly touching Manu's elbow. He glanced to her, meeting her gaze for a moment before he looked back at the two men.

"Yes," Manu said, clipped. "I think that'll be fine. Luffy can stay in the guest room in the house."

"Thanks Papa Hoku!" Luffy shouted, racing past them and up the hill toward the house with the box over his head.

"Thank you so much for your generosity," Sabo said quickly, smiling brightly at Manu. His expression remained unchanging and Sabo continued, "We don't mean to impose, we'll make sure we handle everything on our side and—"

"That's fine," Manu said.

Sabo's words fell to a quiet, polite silence. He continued to smile, a bit strained at the corners as he lightly adjusted the cuff of his sleeves.

"Oh, maka!" Mahina called, deciding to throw the two a bone. "Wait, let us help you with that."

Ace and Sabo turned on their heels in an instant. Mahina almost choked on a snort. Hoku looked up from where she was wrestling with one of the suitcases to get the handle up. "It's alright! We brought a ton of souvenirs over! It'll be a few trips."

"Aw, come on, let me get that for ya," Ace said, stepping over to the trunk. Hoku made a face and Mahina watched an easy grin slide across his face, expression suddenly far more confident than it'd been second ago, teasing. "You'll take the entire trip to get it up the hill if we let you."

"You're exaggerating that isn't gonna—"

"You almost broke your nose pulling it off the carousel," Sabo added, easily lifting one of the suitcases up with one hand while Ace grabbed the other. Mahina watched this interaction with curious eyes. Sabo's hand dropped and lightly touched Hoku's lower back, guiding her with practiced fingers to the side of the car. "Could you grab—"

"I can get this for her."

Mahina pressed her fingertips to her lips, hiding her expression. Sabo and Ace looked startled, blinking like deer in headlights as Manu easily took Hoku's bags from the two of them, one in either hand—and promptly began to make his way up the hill to the house. "It's my daughter's things after all."

Ace opened his mouth, closing it abruptly. Sabo looked momentarily stunned, staring after Manu—

"Thanks, Papa!" Hoku said sweetly, running around the side of the car and almost tripping over the lip of the hill. Ace and Sabo's arms shot out, a practiced move to Mahina's gaze, but Hoku easily rightened herself, almost skipping over to Manu's side.

Mahina watched with fond eyes as they shared the weight of the larger suitcase together, Manu turning to Hoku with affection in his gaze.

She glanced back to the two young men looking lost at the base of the hill.

"Don't worry," Mahina offered, almost sang as she took another suitcase from the two of them. Ace and Sabo watched her almost robotically as she hefted it over her shoulder with ease. "I think you two did just fine."

the entirety of this trip is Ace and Sabo trying to win Manu and Mahina over, only to find themselves at the constant mercy of Manu's scrutiny

Manu's never too mean to them, but he sure does make them sweat

Sabo's a bit hurt because he can normally charm most parents and Hoku's won't even give him an inch

Ace starts to think that maybe he did do something wrong, he tries not to show it but starts to freak at the thought of Hoku's parents actually hating him—what the hell is he supposed to do if that happens?

He starts to limit physical contact with Hoku—which is nowhere near normal for him, Ace holds back bear hugs and noogies and chokeholds because he grabbed Hoku, swinging her up and Manu had looked at him as though he'd just thrown up all over his hand-embroidered rug

Even Sabo gets caught, an arm around Hoku's waist when he helps her down the steps to the beach—he respectfully keeps it hovered over Hoku's lower back instead when Manu stares him down from the top of the hill

Manu and Mahina treat Luffy normally, and Luffy does the same to them—they've become acquainted with Luffy and like him quite fine, after all

Hoku's just happy to have a good time with everyone

It's Luffy who gets Manu to act just a liiiiitttttlllleeee bit nicer when he notices Manu and Mahina standing by the hill, watching and talking about Hoku and he says:

"Shishishi, Ace and Sabo can handle it, they're tough!" Luffy promptly spit out a mouthful of watermelon seeds. Manu and Mahina watched them scatter to the ground. "Besides, they know Hoku loves it."

"Loves it?" Manu repeated.

"Sure," Luffy said, unbothered. "You guys havin' a say. I dunno. She's probably just happy she gets to grow up with ya this time."

Manu and Mahina look at each other, expressions soft and full of love for their daughter as Luffy walks off, sandals slapping in the sand. It takes them a moment before Manu suddenly looks a bit confused, glancing to Luffy's swaying straw hat in the wind.

"Did he say this time? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Who knows," Mahina says, looking curious, maybe a bit mystified. "He's always been a curious one, hasn't he?"

Luffy eats the entire watermelon rind in front of them and Hoku's parents decide to just have fun the rest of the weekend

-i decided to do a modern au for this one because an au where mahina and manu live in the memos storyline... :'( they'd probably want to hear all the news possible about their daughter, so an interaction of them scrutinizing all the boys would probably go something like them sitting around the table talking about their wanted posters and making judgements based on that

#memos #memos asks #memos au #hoku #ace #sabo #hasl #monkey d luffy #mahina #manu #mahina is just here for the drama #ace and sabo both realize hoku has her mother's traits but she got her dad's pretty face

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rorywritesjunk · 6 months

Text

For these foamy green hills are but saltwater desert

Richie, Mohji's lion, isn't doing so well. The crew end up at a small island with a dwindling population to seek help and Buggy meets Midori, the mayor who is far more stubborn and trusting with his crew than he can really comprehend. Rating: PG-13, gonna have smut at some point later though. Warnings: Buggy being obnoxious, of course. I'd call this a fast paced slow burn. It takes the place over the course of the week and days are split into two chapters. There's also some drama and other pirates. A/N: Full confession. I honestly wrote this because I have been watching the anime and Richie is one of the best characters. Do I know a lot about the anime? No. Is some of this chaotic and characters OOC? Of course! It's a fanfic. Is it self indulgent? Hell yes. I had fun writing this and wanted to share it. Also, I wrote this more with anime!Buggy in mind since we don't get to see Richie in the live action. Title comes from the song "Dryad's Promise" by Tricky Pixie.

Chapter 1

Day 1 pt 1

It was Mohji who requested they dock at the first island they came to on behalf of Richie. He said the lion wasn’t doing well, seemed depressed and was refusing to eat. It had gone on for days and the first mate was worried, and well, Richie was part of the crew so Buggy relented. It was another few days before they spotted an island they could dock at and Mohji hoped he could find someone to help his lion companion. Buggy thought anyone willing to go near a lion had to be pretty stupid.

He knew what Richie was capable of. He’d seen the lion wreak havoc and destruction on unsuspecting people and animals. Those paws of his could level a city block with one swipe.

So when Mohji left the ship and came back an hour later with a woman, Buggy realized there was someone stupid out there, even if she was pretty.

She was wearing boots, a dress with a thick wool apron over it, and a bulky sweater. Her boots and hem of the skirt were caked in mud and the apron had what looked like crumbs stuck to it. Was she a vet or a baker, or something else? Buggy wasn’t sure but he followed Mohji as he led the woman to where Richie was resting.

“How long since he last ate?” The woman asked as she approached the lion. Buggy instinctively wanted to tell her to be careful, that that was a damn lion, but she held her hand out for Richie to sniff it, and when the lion nudged her hand she moved closer. “When did he start acting like this?”

“He last ate a few days ago.” Mohji told her as he chewed on his nails worryingly. “And he’s been acting weird for about a week. I don’t know what it is.”

Nodding, she knelt down in front of him and lifted up one of his paws, checking over his toes and feeling between his pads, checking for any splinters that could be bothering him. Buggy crossed his arms as he leaned over to his first mate.

“Shouldn’t we be concerned he may eat her?” He asked as Richie opened his mouth all of a sudden, but only to yawn. Mohji shook his head.

“He wouldn’t unless I told him to.” He replied as he watched nervously. He was a wreck over Richie. He hated it when the large feline wasn’t feeling well, and especially since they had been out to sea for so long, it worried him how long it took for them to get help. “I think she knows what she’s doing.”

“Wait, you think?” Buggy asked. “Is she even a vet?”

“Oh, uh…” Mohji shrugged. “I found her at a farm near the shore. She was feeding her animals and she said hi to me. I asked for help and she came with me.”

Buggy stared incredulously at his first mate. He really brought the first person he saw to the ship? He would wait to berate him after the woman left.

“How long have you been out to sea?” The woman asked as she reached up to run her fingers through Richie’s mane. The lion closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. She smiled and scratched behind one of his ears. “Because I think he’s bored. He needs some enrichment on land.”

“He’s used to being out at sea!” Buggy told her harshly. “He’s fine on the ship.”

“Bored?” Mohji repeated. “Oh, Richie! I’m sorry! It’s been a while since we raided any place, no wonder he’s miserable!”

“Raided?” She frowned. “Are you pirates?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact!” Buggy laughed. “You’re looking at the Buggy Pirates!”

“Oh.” A pause. “I’ve never heard of you. We don’t get a lot of visitors to our island.” She pulled back from Richie and looked at Mohji. “If you and your crew are able to stay for a few days, maybe a week, your lion can spend time on the island. There’s not a lot of us to worry about here, and I have some old cows and sheep he could hunt.”

“W-Wait, I’m the Captain!” Buggy snapped. “You should be asking me this!”

“Are you Richie’s owner though?” She asked with a frown. He looked dumbfounded but shook his head. “See, that’s why I’m talking to this guy. He came to me for help, not you.”

Buggy seemed, well, shocked he was being spoken to like that. Mohji looked to his Captain with a pleading expression; Richie looked at him the same way. Buggy grumbled under his breath and caved. He didn’t want his first mate or first lion to be miserable.

“Fine. Only a week!”

Her name was Midori. She was the mayor of the only village on the island, population 15. She wasn’t a veterinarian by any means, just a farmer who had been tending to her animals when Mohji came across her. She was kind, as were the villagers, to the crew as they came on shore. Richie was given a bed of hay in one of her smaller barns. Mohji joined him. She even offered her guest room to Buggy, saying it was proper for the mayor to host the Captain. He accepted, but he wasn’t sure what to think of her yet.

Buggy was confused. The villagers didn’t seem scared of him or his crew. Had none of them ever heard of him? Was he not famous in these parts? How could his name not strike fear in the heart of Midori when he had told her who he was?

He sat at her kitchen table as she fixed lunch for the two of them. It was a little odd. It was just him, the rest of the crew were going about the island, checking out the bar for beer and food. He watched her suspiciously, wondering what she had planned for him. Was she going to poison him to collect a bounty? Was this all an act and planned to murder him in his sleep?

She placed a bowl of soup with some bread on a plate in front of him before grabbing him a beer. He watched her open the beer and took it from her, taking a few sips. That couldn’t have been poisoned, right? He would wait for her to start eating before he made his next move.

“So, Captain Buggy, I’d love to hear about some of your adventures.” Midori said as she started eating. He watched her have a few spoonfuls before he started helping himself.

“What d’you wanna know?” He asked between mouthfuls.

“Anything at all.” She smiled. “Please?”

Buggy eyed her suspiciously before he lifted the bowl up to his lips, drinking half of the soup before setting the bowl down and downing the beer. He swore she giggled before getting up to grab him another bottle. The hospitality was borderline uncomfortable for him, but if she wanted to hear stories then he would tell her stories.

By the fourth bottle he was telling of their last raid where they leveled an entire town and took all of their treasure. Midori was listening with rapt attention, hanging onto his every word, and she even let out a gasp at a particularly exciting part. Buggy sat back in his chair as he finished off his drink. She got up to grab him another one and he watched her, suspicion in his eyes.

“What are you getting at?” He suddenly asked. She looked at him in confusion as she opened the bottle for him. He took it from her.

“I don’t understand what you’re asking.” She frowned. “I… just wanted to hear stories of your adventures, Captain Buggy.” She sat back down. “That’s all.”

“You’ve really never heard of me or my crew?” He asked. Midori shook her head. He looked a little put out by that.

“Captain, there’s only 15 of us on this island, including me.” She told him. “When I came here 17 years ago with my family, the town was bustling and full of people, but now everyone wants to leave to find treasure or have their own adventures, leaving many of us behind. We are either leaving on our own or dying, and it won’t be long until I’m the last one here.”

He took a sip of his beer, contemplating her words. “Why would you be the last one?”

“I love it here.” She smiled sadly. “It’s a beautiful island and I can’t imagine leaving it.”

“You may have to leave some day if you’re the last one left.” He said. “It would be stupid to stick around.”

“I guess I’m a bit of a romantic then.” She laughed. “I’m waiting for someone to take me away from here, you know, and we will fall in love and all that.” A wistful look crossed her face as she looked out toward the kitchen window. His ship was in view. She looked back at him with a small smile. “But like I said, not many visitors come through here so that limits my chances that a handsome stranger would come by and take me away. Who knows, maybe someone on your crew would offer me the chance!”

He nearly choked on his drink, cheeks flushing. Take her away from here? What if… no, no. He couldn’t. He didn’t know her and couldn’t ask her to join the crew, to come along with him and leave the island. He was supposed to be suspicious of her, not feel wooed by her words of longing like that. It was a romantic notion, to be swept away by a handsome stranger like that, taken far from home for new adventures, having tales of her own. Instead he shook his head and sat back in chair. It wouldn’t be him since what woman would find him handsome? Even with a dwindling population she would have better luck finding a husband on this island than with a pirate.

“Yea, well…” He grumbled as he raised his bottle to his lips once more. “I’m sure something will happen.”

Midori smiled at him as she collected the empty bottles and took them to the sink to rinse out. He kept his eyes on her, a thought coming to his mind. His hand detached from his wrist and flew over to her, tugging on the back of her dress. At least he was being polite enough not to pinch her ass (though there was a bit of temptation there). She turned around, eyes widening at the floating hand. Buggy let out a laugh as his hand flew back to him.

“H-How do you do that?!” She demanded as she stomped over to him, grabbing his hand and pulling it towards her. She gave it a few tugs, trying to see if she could remove it herself. Buggy jerked back from her.

“It’s the Devil Fruit I ate.” He told her, slightly alarmed by her more physical reaction than fear. “The Chop Chop fruit… my body can separate.”

He didn’t like the look in her eyes right then. Now he was regretting even accepting the offer for lunch at that point.

“I need your help with something, Captain.”

#buggy the clown #buggy x oc #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader

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freya-fallen · 1 year

Text

Yandere Sebastian Michaelis

CWs: stalking, demons, non-con kiss

word count: 1174

Part 2

It is the cats that draw him, naturally.

He first sees you as you're luring a pregnant queen into a carrier. By the way she butted against your hand, you were already familiar.

"I know, Your Majesty, but I want to get you home before that storm hits." You gaze at the impending clouds in the distance. There was a light snow just the other day, and the cold snap doesn't seem to be getting better.

The lady cat eventually acquiesces, and you saunter away with her.

A few months later, he sees you holding a little orange kitten up for an inn keeper as the man sits on his porch with his morning pipe.

"Rudy will be an excellent mouser, and he's easily the biggest of his litter. He'll keep away other toms."

The man's eyes narrow. "Is he snipped?"

You nod. "Yes, sir, and fully healed. You'll have no kittens from this boy."

After a moment, the inn keeper scratches behind one of the tom's ears. Even from a distance, Sebastian hears the purring of the content little creature.

"All right, I'll take him." There is an exchange, and then you're walking away.

Sebastian follows you home, a quaint little flat that is nevertheless neat-- well, except for the messes made by the Felines residing therein.

There are blankets hither and thither, makeshift toys, the occasional item that has been knocked from a surface.

As you enter, two little tufts of fur amble across your foot, playing until one bites too hard and the other shrieks.

"Alba, don't be so rough with him." You reach down and separate the white and cream girl from her grey brother, kissing both on their noses. "Sorry, Ash, honey." The grey kitten is the smaller of the two.

He watches for a few moments as you put out food. There are three kittens total-- the girl and boy he saw before, and another orange tabby that's lighter in color than the one you gave the inn keeper-- and their mother.

A scraggly old black cat waits for his own bowl. You favor him with pets as he eats, cooing at the ancient creature. "That's my boy."

Hung on one wall is a large map of the area, pins marking locations in different colors, little notes written across it. You hum and place another pin as he watches-- green. It's where the inn stands, unless he's mistaken.

Sebastian smiles to himself as he leaves.

You don't know you've attracted the attention of a demon. You're just going about your life, providing care for animals, fostering and finding homes for stray cats in particular. People treat cats like garbage so often, and they're really lovely creatures. Cats are caring, social, more intelligent than people give them credit, and can be quite useful.

You've placed mousers on so many farms and local business, even a ship or two.

Your life is fairly quiet unless there are kittens to tend (especially orphans; they take constant care when younger than six weeks).

And then you start waking in the night.

It's nothing, you tell yourself. Just the cats.

But something doesn't feel right.

So you sneak out of bed one night when you just can't put your mind at ease and down the stairs to your living area. Your current fosters are all staring at a shadowed corner, and Whisper (your senior cat, whom you found sick some years ago) sits in your rocking chair, alert. He turns to you with those lantern yellow eyes, then to the corner.

"H-hello?" You don't know what prompts you to speak.. maybe it's the way the cats are acting as if there's something-- someone there. As you watch, little Rufus trills and rubs against the darkness.

You gasp.

Everything seems to happen all at once.

The shadow blurs with movement. You trip over a stair and sprawl back on flight, elbows catching with a bang. The cats scatter. There's a delicate click across the bare parts of your floor. A creak. A soft chuckle. You squeeze your eyes closed.

"My, my, quite the perceptive little thing, aren't you?" The voice is like warm, velvet fur across your electrified nerves, and your fear heightens. "It's alright, Miss." Something brushes your cheek. Your breath rattles in and out.

"What do you want?" The words are so small you wonder that it--he-- they-- hear it.

There's another chuckle, like the being is hovering over you. "I'm merely satisfying my curiosity."

You frown, and the being reads the question there.

"I had to meet these lovely cats you keep safe and warm."

The ludicrous statement forces a nervous giggle from you. "You came to see my cats?"

"Indeed."

It's said with such seriousness that your eyes pop open and your breath comes easier.

In front of you is a man. He's quite handsome; tall, lithe, with hair that blends into the night, skin that gathers what little light slips through your windows, and eyes that bleed crimson even in the inky darkness. He smiles down at you, a beautiful expression.

"How did you get in here?" You wonder.

He gestures. "Through the door."

"But I locked it," you argue.

"Did you?"

Your tongue darts across dry lips. You're certain you did. You do every night. You're very careful about locking your door before bed.

"You know, you're very pretty like this."

Alarms bells sound in your head at the compliment, despite his affable manner.

Your eyes dart around the room, but there's no safety. You slowly ease up a stair.

The sculpted lines of his face fall into a frown. "Are you going to run away from me? That would not be a good idea."

"Why not?" You slip up another step.

His scarlet eyes gleam. "I don't know that I can resist the chase."

Your heart thuds against your ribs, your pulse becomes a rushing river in your ears, and you can feel the beat through the arteries in your throat. As though he can hear your terror, his lips spread in a wide smile.

In the darkness you can just make out the flash of fangs

You turn and flee toward your bedroom.

Before you make it to the top, a vice wraps around one ankle and tugs you down, down, down, bumping painfully along the way.

When you reach the rug in the center of your living area, he flips you into your back, kneeling over your prone form. "I told you running was a bad idea."

He looks like a cat with a cornered mouse. You cower, but his long fingers curls around your wrists before you can curl in on yourself.

"Now you've made me hungry."

Do those canines look longer? Sharper? And his nails are pointed and black. There's a strange mark on the back of one hand.

"You are too delectable." His tongue flicks wetly across his lips. As he begins to close in, you accept you're about to die.

Your body tenses, eyes shut, lips part with a gasp--

And something soft and hot presses to your mouth. Slick muscle strokes against your tongue, and you belatedly realize your midnight visitor is kissing you.

#sebastian michaelis #yandere sebastian #yandere imaginings #cat lady #cat #sebastian x you #reader #demons #night terror #reader fic #darkfic #black butler

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