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cultrise · 9 months

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dazai who will insist on you wearing his shirts around the house or when you go to bed. and he watches as the shirt falls lazily on your frame, falling off from your shoulder into a scrunched up pile of fabric. NSFW

his eyes travel along your chest, across the barely buttoned up shirt as your curves get hidden by the white sheet. he gently sneaks a hand to your waist, lips pressed to your earlobe as he whispers praises and words of poetry about how beautiful you look, how nobody could ever compare to his ‘belladonna’.

but imagine dazai finding you in bed, reading as he comes back from the agency. you were allowed to stay home that day and the only thing going through dazai’s mind all day was returning home to you, which resulted in him neglecting his duties (even more than he already was) and getting kicked out of the office by a very angry kunikida.

but as he enters your bedroom his eyes dart on your figure and his eyes widen to the sight of you wearing his shirt,, and nothing else under it. it was so obvious too. from the way the sun shone on your tender face to the image of that barely see-through shirt showcasing the skin under it. the way your hair was sitting just right, head propped against the pillow, teeth tugging at you bottom lip as you sultrily flipped the pages.

now in retrospect, your actions were not suggestive in the slightest. but for dazai… this man would be sitting so motionless in the doorway that you wouldn’t even notice him. until he decides to advance to the bed, making you raise your head, eye corners turning up into a smile “you’re home early”.

he comes over, a hum trailing from his lips as he places a bandaged hand on your thigh and bringing his lips to yours. but once he cranes his neck and moves his body closer, you’re surprised to see him deepen the kiss, hand trailing to the inside of your thigh.

“something you need from me?” you whisper as he smiles, unbuttoning his vest “come on, baby. you’re almost inviting me” you smile as his lips attack your neck, fingers tangling in the back of his hair “it’s hot in here. i had to take off a few layers” you explain as he chuckles against your neck, hands trailing to your torso and moving the shirt slightly to the side so they can cup your breasts.

“that’s my job, mon amour” and his touch feels so light, so soft yet needy and longing. you breathe hard against his ear, making his hairs stand up on end. and soon enough you’re under him, lips clashing with the other’s as his hands roam your barely clothed body. you fiddle with his belt, succeeding in taking it off before he slides his pants off and kicks them to the foot of the bed.

you giggle at his eagerness as he smiles, bending down to the edge of the bed to sit on his knees as he parts your legs. and dazai is determined because he doesn’t spare a single moment and just dives between your legs, into that pretty pussy that belongs to him and him only. your hand goes to his hair, digits brushing at his dark strands as he looks up, eyes coated with lust as he sucks and licks your clit.

and his view? immaculate. your hand on his head, gently pushing him deeper, making his tongue swirl even more eagerly between your folds. his shirt that’s being held together by only two buttons, legs parted as your exposed bare chest rises and falls rhythmically. the sun shines directly onto your face and he can’t help but admire those pretty little hues you have in your eyes. the way your lashes flutter and your eyelids shut slightly as your soft lips part to let loose of the most beautiful moans he has ever heard before.

and dazai is rock hard. his poor cock is struggling against the fabric of his boxers as the blood keeps pumping straight down. but he can’t stop. not until you’ve cum. not until he has his beautiful girl satisfied. not until he’s heard every variation of your delightful moans. and by the time he’s done, dazai is so crazed with the way you look that he might as well cum just by watching you.

and he climbs on top, lips sticky with your juices “you taste way too good.. i might be in trouble” he smiles as you grab his wet chin and pull him into a kiss, your other hand grabbing at the back of his soft dark hair. he whines into the kiss as he unintentionally presses his crotch to yours, cock throbbing to be let out of his underwear.

when you reach down, hooking one finger to the band of his boxers and pull them down, this man is as good as gone. gives you one last passionate kiss before gently pushing himself inside, like he’s afraid not to ruin a work of art. and he lets out a long moan as he enters you fully, taking a few moments to adjust to the warmth of your walls around him.

“you’re being dramatic” you grin as he raises a brow “dramatic? me? i don’t know why you’d believe that” you chuckle, hands reaching for his face “you’re acting like you’ve never fucked me before” he smirks “sorry, my love, it’s just hard to adjust to such a perfect pussy all the time.. taking me in so well..” and you clench around him because.. he just has a way with words “fuck.. just move”

and he complies. soon enough he’s going so fast you fear he might move the bed, which is funny considering he’s a lanky ass man. and he’s going at such a quick pace that you can’t even finish your moan before another one rises in your throat “shit.. osamu!.. oh my god!” god, does he love it when you call his name. his mind is fuzzy and he keeps rambling on about how good you feel, talks your ears off until you become to fucked out to even understand what he’s saying.

and his mouth travels on your breasts, lips tugging at your perked up nipples as he takes care of you. digs his nails into your plushy thighs as the house gets filled with squelching and clapping sounds of sweaty skin “oh fuck.. gonna cum.. cum all in this amazing pussy..”

but even after violently cumming inside of you, he doesnt stop. he needs to push his cum back in and definitely keeps going just so he can pull out last moment and shoot another load to your chest “jesus, osamu! now i’m all sticky. and your shirt’s stained” he just kisses your sweaty forehead with a hum “don’t worry, belladonna. i’ll clean it for you” and he reaches down, sucking and leaking every bit of cum off of your chest before preparing a bath for the two of you, lighting candles on the sides and washing his girl thoroughly.

and he’s always so polite after sex. always makes sure you know how grateful he is, how good you were, how beautiful, how amazing. the only time dazai isn’t an absolute cunt is when he’s all fucked out and wears sleepiness on his eyelids <3 “bella’, you should wear my shirts like that more often” he coos into your ear “if i do that i’ll probably end up pregnant, osamu” you smile as he retorts it “and? that’s a bad thing?” “just shut up and play some music”

#𐙚 — pages.#𐙚— dreamscape.#dazai #osamu dazai #bsd #bungo stray dogs #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai smut #osamu dazai smut

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whumpsday · 1 year

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Me and my hunting partner just got back from duty, and my partner is injured.

I make Kane close the wound. He doesn't get to lick it directly, though, he might get a mouthful of blood. While holding him with an iron grip in his hair, I make him spit in my hand, then rub it on the wound to close it.

Then we lock Kane back up and leave.

liked this one so much i wrote a whole 700 word thing about it. enjoy!

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist / Drabbles tag

content: vampire whumpee, starvation, begging, multiple whumpers, burns, magical healing, saliva, bloody injury described through the rose-tinted lens of a very hungry vampire

Kane always smelled the hunters coming before he saw them, but he usually heard them even before that. The sweet scent of human blood, flowing plentifully through their veins, hidden just under soft skin he would never get to break. In the beginning, he used to throw himself at the bars in a hunger-crazed frenzy, burning himself in the process. He'd learned enough self-control to avoid that, by now.

Today was different. He smelled blood first, before he even heard them. The scent was sharper, less muffled than when sealed behind human flesh, though distant enough for him not to fly into hysterics.

Someone was bleeding, and they were getting closer.

Kane picked himself up from where he sat huddled in the corner and placed himself near the door, kneeling respectfully. It was likely that they were just going to taunt him again, mock him for how he'd never receive food again by waving blood out of reach until he cried. But there was always a chance.

With time to prepare himself mentally, he dug his nails into his thighs and coached himself to stay sane. He wouldn't jump at the bars and burn himself, he wouldn't. He would kneel here, beg for food, and hope for the best.

He gritted his teeth as the hunters started making their way down the stairs, mouth watering at the tantalizing, unmistakable fragrance of fresh blood. He was so hungry. He would do anything for just a little bit.

The hunters hobbled down the stairs, one supporting the other. The injured hunter's jeans sported a slash in one leg, a shallow yet long gash running across it. The wound oozed blood, the finest ambrosia Kane could imagine. It glistened under fluorescent lights: a deep, rich, savory red, dripping from the hunter's thigh and saturating the fabric of his jeans. Its aroma permeated the room: it was everywhere, it was everything, he needed it more than he'd ever needed anything else in his entire life.

Kane pounced toward the source of it, his mind blank of anything other than the overpowering need for food, only to yelp and recoil back when his front lit up with pain- he'd leapt at the bars, again.

The uninjured hunter chuckled lightly. "Looks like the parasite thinks you're its new snack, eh, buddy?"

His hunting partner rolled his eyes. "Just get on with it before the guys try to make me go to the fuckin' ER. I don't want to deal with that shit."

After gently setting his peer on the floor in the hall outside Kane's cell, the uninjured hunter unlocked the door, quickly shutting it behind him as he entered. "Good news! You get to be useful today."

Kane fought to retain his rationality, whimpering as he looked up at the hunter. It took every ounce of effort he had in him not to pounce again, and he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to manage it, but the painful lines singed into his skin helped him stay grounded. "P-please. Please sir, I need it. Please?"

The hunter tangled his fingers in Kane's hair and gripped it tight, forcing his head still. "Tsk-tsk. You don't get blood, remember? Don't worry, you can still be useful." He held his other hand out, wearing a sturdy leather glove. "Spit."

Kane sobbed. "Please, please, I'll be so good, please let me lick the wound closed! I can help!" he cried.

The hunter rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't be able to prevent yourself from biting if you tried. Spit."

The worst part was Kane knew the hunter was right.

He had no trouble providing ample saliva to close the wound, his mouth watering excessively with the smell of food surrounding his starved body. The healing properties would wear off mere minutes after leaving him, but the injured hunter was right there. Kane wished it would wear off immediately, just so he'd have an excuse to get some blood in him. Even the smallest bit.

The hunter released his hair, mockingly patting him on the cheek. "Good leech."

Kane watched with ravenous, desperate eyes as the hunter applied vampire saliva to the wound, the delectable blood clotting to stop any excess from being lost.

The scent did not leave, even as the hunters returned upstairs. The injured hunter had spilled a small amount of blood in the hall without even noticing. Kane would do anything to have it. He would take any punishment if he could earn the opportunity to lick it up. He would die for it in a heartbeat. He would beg, but there was no one to beg to.

He amassed many more burns that night, fruitlessly throwing himself at the bars between sobs

taglist in reblogs!

#ask #k&j ask #canon kane whump #kane and jim drabbles #whump #my writing #vampire whumpee #vampire whump #starvation #begging #multiple whumpers #burns #whump writing

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frozenjokes · 8 months

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Signing Back In, Apparently - 18

Prev/Next

TWs for this chapter: gun violence, nasty injuries (not described in graphic detail), suicide threats

“Sausage, Martyn,” Cleo kept their voice level, but there was no hiding the shock in her expression. This.. well, she didn’t blame them, and she certainly wasn’t going to fight them. Cleo looked over her shoulder to the ouija board. Poor things. “I won’t get in your way, but you could wait and see if Scar learns anything from his ghosts. They might have a solution.”

“That ship has sailed,” Sausage sighed, “I’m no fool. I know this is a dangerous bridge to burn. If I step back, it’ll get out of control. I am sorry, Scar, I don’t take any joy in this.”

“No, I understand,” Scar’s tone was light, almost casual, but his eyes were dark, “Though, please, humor me for a minute, won’t you? I have a question.”

“If it helps you make your peace, go ahead,” Sausage’s gaze hardened, his grip on his gun tightening.

“Great! You said you were sorry, Sausage, sorry about what happened to me on that island. You took partial responsibility because you sent me to Cleo. You didn’t have any idea of knowing what might happen, but still, you were sorry. That was kind. Well, Cub, the one who did this to me, he wanted to know what would happen if he combined the living and the dead, smashing the two things together to see if they stuck. It’s lunacy, it is, but whatever he did to me, it’s deeper than just aesthetics,” The wings, as if on cue, flapped lightly. Scar gave them a small side eye, an expression Cleo couldn’t read crossing his face, “I’m not alone in my body anymore. I can feel it, Sausage, something eager, something hungry , inside me.” Scar tilted his head back into Sausage’s gun, just enough so he could look him in the eyes, “Long winded explanation, I know, one of my many flaws. I only meant..” Scar paused, humming, “How sorry will you be if that bullet in my head doesn’t kill me?”

“That’s enough, Scar,” Sausage growled, and Cleo closed their eyes as his finger tightened on the trigger. The whirr of something whipping through the air sounded at nearly the same time as the shot. The following chorus of yells was swallowed by the bang and when Cleo opened her eyes, Scar and Sausage were on the floor wrestling in such a tight knot, Martyn was struggling to intervene. Scar’s dark hair was stained red, enough to make Cleo wonder if Sausage hadn’t missed. If whatever Cub had done had really kept him alive. It was a moment later she realized she should help, but in the next another shot was fired, and this time, it was clearly Sausage that screamed. Martyn leapt on top of Scar, but he rolled, throwing the other man off and staggering to his feet with Sausage’s pistol. The left side of his head was coated in blood, a separate gash under his right eye split open and bleeding. Cleo had never seen anyone look so crazed.

“ FUCK , Grian, you really never miss with that thing, do you? Couldn’t have tried to hit Sausage, no?” Scar kicked the planchette in the doorway beside him with a massive heave, its dull point speckled with blood. Oh. That made sense. Scar gave Sausage a sour look as Martyn kneeled over him, struggling to stop the blood spilling from his hip. Sausage met Scar’s gaze, stiff.

“ Scar,” Cleo moved forward, slow and methodical, “Let’s take a step back, alright? We can get out of here. Get Merlin out of here.”

Scar whipped his head to meet her eyes, expression twisted in a tight grin. “You don’t want me to kill them. You can say it. Tell me what you think, Cleo, I don’t mind,” Scar spoke, frighteningly level. He moved robotically as he stepped into the tavern and closed the distance between them, every step a threat with the gun fastened in his grip. A challenge, maybe, but Cleo had never known themself to back down.

“I don’t. You know their reason was sound.”

“So you were happy to sit there, watching as I got put down like a sick dog?”

“Not happy. I’ve told you where I stand, Scar. Whether or not you believe me is your own choice, but I promise you, I won’t stand idly if you raise that gun again. Let them go.”

“Bold.”

“I’ve been told so, yeah. Let’s pack it up and get out of here. You can chat with your ghosts on the way.”

Scar gave Sausage and Martyn one last venomous look before turning away, melting into a more relaxed stance. Cleo couldn’t help but notice how manufactured it looked. “Guess we’re even. An eye for an eye, whatever, whatever. I’m taking your fucking gun.”

“Aye,” Sausage grunted, closing his eyes. Martyn looked like he might leap on Scar while his back was turned, but backed down at a shriveling look from Cleo. She couldn’t save Martyn’s sorry ass a second time if he did something stupid. Martyn fumed but turned away, heaving to help Sausage out of the doorway and supporting most of his weight as they walked away. Cleo watched them go. Martyn never sheathed his sword.

Scar tucked the ouija board under his arm, snatching up the planchette he had kicked and stalking out of the door without another word. Cleo followed him to his boat, trying to puzzle out the extent of the damage. There were very few spots on Scar’s body that weren’t bleeding, his head being the worst example, blood dripping off the long strands of his hair.

“Did..” Cleo trailed off, biting their lip, “Did Sausage get you? Really get you I mean. Should you be dead right now?”

Scar didn’t turn around or even give any indication he heard. His pace was fast, hands tucked firmly in his pockets. The silence was long before he spoke. “Don’t think so. Might not have an ear anymore, though. It’s hard to tell, everything feels like it’s on fire. Well, it also feels a bit numb. I’m not going to think too hard about it. I’ve got a mirror on the boat, I’ll take a look.”

“Let me, it’ll be easier, and you won’t be able to accurately wrap that shit up anyway. Besides, you’ve got ghosts to talk to.” Cleo quickened her pace to catch up when Scar didn’t answer, only catching the frown on his face for a moment before he gave a weak smile. Cleo rolled their eyes, slipping one of her many flasks from her jacket and slamming it into Scar’s stomach. He keeled over with a yelp and Cleo walked ahead, smirking. “Something to numb the pain, hm?”

“Asshole.”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Cleo let Scar get his mirror and first aid while she readied the boat, starting a slow sail. From her understanding, the ghosts would be forced to follow soon after they left dock, so it would be best to take care of Scar’s business before they were being pursued. Cleo had always been more squeamish than most pirates, a trait about themself which they loathed, but anyone would have squirmed looking at the side of Scar’s head. At the very least Cleo could take a small amount of solace in the fact the bullet had clearly grazed him, not entered his head completely. Any remaining relief promptly dissolved when she recognized the mangled state of his ear. Cleo bit down hard on their tongue to keep from wretching. Scar downed the last of the flask as she tied his hair back, working quickly to curb the bleeding before he started to complain.

Cleo couldn’t help but notice how quickly she was able to slow the blood flow despite the severity of this injury. It was hard not to think about Cub, to think about how easily what had happened to Scar could have happened to them. To think about Scar’s threat. Scar, unsurprisingly, did not tell about what was happening to him willingly, and the details he had given before today were vague; he had only wanted help hiding the wings and figured Cleo would have known best. She was pleased by that, but she couldn’t help Scar hide them; she couldn’t even touch them. But before now, this wasn’t something to be taken very seriously. Scar hadn’t made it seem like something deeper. Maybe he hadn’t known, but if he had, he would have lied anyway. Well, from now on, she’d be sticking a little closer to Joe.

As Cleo bent down to get some bandages, she let out a long, triumphant breath. This wasn’t too bad! Sure, her stomach was churning, but she hadn’t even made a sound or done anything else to set Scar off. He was fun to talk to, but christ , he could be so sensitive sometimes, particularly when it came to injuries.

“This should do,” Cleo said, Scar wincing as they tightened his bandages. “At least until we can get you to an actual doctor.”

“A doctor?” Scar laughed, his smile looking more real, “Where the hell am I gonna find a doctor that doesn’t want to cut me open and poke at my organs? You’re not implying I go back to the Faction Isles, are you? Somehow, I don’t think they’d take me.”

“Well the ghosts have different prices for their services, but I’m sure you could find some shiny rocks to persuade them with. Although, this late in the season, you might not have much luck.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Scar shrugged, laying right down on the deck, “Thanks, Cleo,” he mumbled the last bit, looking hard at the ground.

“Well, well! The booze turning you soft, is it?” Cleo stalked back over, leaning over Scar in such a way that all her curly hair swung over his face. She grinned at his flushed face, chuckling as he covered it with his arms. “Well, Scar, you are very welcome. Now pick yourself up off the floor and get talking to your ghosts.”

Scar groaned, massaging his forehead. “I don’t wanna. They’ve been so annoying ever since we got on the boat, all in my face and everything.” Cleo put her hands on her hips. Scar threw up his hands. “You don’t get it! They’re the worst!”

“You’re the worst, stop bitching and start solving the problems you caused.”

“Technically, this wasn’t really my-” Scar stopped short at a distant roar, its heavy sound rippling across the water.

“Time to speed up I take it? I’ll handle the boat, you get your shit in order.”

“I could use another drink.”

“Scar, I am not getting you drunk while we run away from a giant ghost monster that wants you dead. Be happy you’re tipsy.” The distant look in Scar’s eye made him look a little further gone than ‘just tipsy,’ but they’d have to work with this. At least he wasn’t complaining about the pain. Scar grumbled in response, but he sat up, getting the ouija board in working order. Cleo couldn’t help but smile as Scar argued with his ghosts, mostly yelling at Grian for sitting when he wanted to speak to Impulse. There was a lot of fumbling before Scar finally assented, putting his hands on the planchette.

Grian’s form flickered to life, his body appearing in splotched colors and his eyes a focused blue; Cleo had never seen anything like it. Even the ghosts on The Haunted Island were monochrome, their eyes empty. She was even more surprised to hear Grian speak, although his voice was fuzzy and quiet.

“ Fuck you.” Grian took his hands off the planchette, promptly disappearing.

Scar turned back to Cleo, an exasperated look across his face. “Guess what he just said to me. Ugh, this is a complete waste of time.”

“I heard him, actually. I could see him too, a little.”

“Really?” Scar did not look overly pleased to learn this.

“That’s great!” Impulse chimed, making Scar jump, “I’d much rather talk with you, Cleo, but I don’t think the ouija board will work the same with you and I. Wow , this is so odd. Mumbo was right, you do kinda feel alive don’t you?” Impulse turned to someone else as he spoke, presumably Grian.

“Oh you have no idea ,” Scar leaned forward, teasing, his eyes narrowed in Grian’s direction. He laughed, clearly seeing something Cleo couldn’t. “It’s so easy to work him up!” Scar turned back, sighing contentedly.

Impulse didn’t look impressed. “Right, Scar. If we could get back on track here, that would be great. What’s happening with Mumbo and Pearl is more serious than what happened with Grian before. As far as I can tell, Merlin doesn’t recognize either of us given-”

“Merlin! You called it Merlin! Do you like the name?” Scar lit up like a puppy, and if he had a tail it would surely be wagging.

“I- Scar , it’s- no. I don’t like it. It’s just convenient,” Impulse looked away, brows furrowing.

“Liar! You like it!”

Impulse flushed, a frankly odd thing to see happen to a ghost, “Can we just focus please? Mumbo and Pearl did not recognize us when we approached them, we were attacked just like everything else in their way. When we found Grian, he was hostile, but we were able to subdue him and calm him down. Grian and I can’t do that here, Merlin is too dangerous, not to mention, huge.”

“Well what do you want me to do, apologize? Mumbo already knows I’m not sorry. Not about the big picture anyway.”

“ We know .” Impulse’s tone was venomous, “I don’t think any of us are looking for apologies anyway, even if you had any to give. No, I’m just concerned about your plan to bring Merlin to The Haunted Island. If I had to guess, their top two priorities are destroying shit and killing you, and that doesn’t lend itself very well to an island full of beautiful architecture and like, other mind bendingly cool shit.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought about that,” Scar mused, and Impulse’s unamused ‘I know’ was swallowed by Scar calling back to Cleo, “Hey, is that going to be a problem?”

“Well, once we get in range I’m going to ask over the walkie,” Cleo pulled the device from one of her pockets, wiggling it before setting it back, “I’m going to need the ghosts to keep talking though, so I know when. Though, we might have to navigate some dangerous water while I wait for a bunch of dithering ghosts to come to an answer.”

“But how could this ever be okay?” Impulse stressed, fingers tight on the planchette, “That island is like- historic- we can’t just risk destroying it all, especially not if everyone isn’t on board. I mean, just thinking about purposefully bringing Merlin there is kind of making my head spin.” Impulse and Scar’s eyes were drawn to empty space, Grian most likely. There was a long pause before Impulse spoke again. “I know,” he sighed, distress showing in every crevice of his face. “I know we don’t.. We will have to try, Grian. Keep distracting them, getting in their face. Something will click. It has to.”

Scar scowled, “Please, I’d rather just drown myself than pilot this ship around for days while you two play house with Merlin.”

“You won’t. ” Impulse hissed, painting a smirk across Scar’s face.

“Oh really? How are you going to stop me?”

“Come on, Scar, knock it off!” Cleo snapped, turning completely from the wheel to face them. The panicked look on Impulse’s face was heart wrenching, the ghost disappearing from view a second later as he removed his hands from the planchette. Scar winced as Impulse left, drawing a hand to his throat before quickly pulling it away. “What happened to being nice to your ghosts, Scar? How many times will this bite you in the ass before you learn?”

“I told you, I don’t fear consequences.”

“Come on, Scar. Seriously.”

Scar’s breathing swelled in a deep anger, his eye alight with a fire. He opened his mouth to speak, but it seems the words were burned away, because he shut it so hard Cleo heard his teeth clench before turning violently away. Fine. Scar could throw as many fits as he wanted, none of it would change a thing. Cleo turned back to the wheel, uninteresting in listening to him mumble to himself. Fucking pirates, man. She jumped as Grian’s voice broke through behind them.

“-pathetic. Seriously, he gets challenged one time for being an asshole, and he just crumbles! What the hell changed, that’s what I want to know. Did anything? Did he just tremble in his room like a little dog whenever anything didn’t go his way? Thank fucking god he’s too far gone to even hide it anymore, now everyone knows just how much of a-”

“ Grian .” Impulse cut in, saying his name and grabbing his sweater when he didn’t slow down, “Grian, stop, he can hear you.” Scar was, indeed, frozen in place, every part of his body rigid as he stared. Cleo could almost see the heat emanating from him. Grian startled for a moment, but his surprise didn’t last long, melting back into a sneer.

“What? Did I hurt your feelings?” Grian bounced on his toes, a look of wild joy crossing his face, “Does it hurt, that everyone knows you’re falling apart? Well, falling apart implies some amount of,” Grian gestured vaguely, “Semblance. You’ve been in pieces for a long time, and it’s just as visible as each of our scars. You try and pick yourself back together, but one little push and it all comes crumbling down, and you’re reduced to this.”

“Grian!” Impulse pulled harder on his sweater, panic in his eyes, “We really don’t want to provoke him right now!”

“What’s he gonna do? Oh, now that’s familiar.” Something deep and angry burned through Grian as he bent down on one knee, meeting Scar face to face. “ What are you going to do?” Something electric burst between them, those words holding a deeper meaning than Cleo understood. Scar stood straight up, gaze fixed on Grian. He drew his sword, turning the blade inwards.

“I’ll take everything away.”

#hermitcraft #pirates smp #boatem #boatemghostsau #zombiecleo #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #grian #impulsesv #pearlecentmoon #mumbo jumbo #mythical sausage #inthelittlewood #tw: gun violence #tw: violence #tw: suicide threat #tw: suicide mention

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iwritetopassthetime · 2 years

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home to you (4/9)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x fem!reader

CHAPTER THREE: At Last // Previous chapter // Masterlist // Next chapter

Wordcount: 6K

Summary: When two people are meant to be together, fate will always find a way to bring them to each other. It's just that sometimes it's not under the normal-est of circumstances. But a flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all, and Bradley will be ready to go through anything for the love of his Blossom.

Warnings: themes of abuse/domestic violence, mentions of the Navy being homophobic, Blossom is still dealing with self-esteem issues but she's getting there, a smooch maybe *wink wink*, Maverick ships Blooster (can't think of a better ship name at the moment)

Song inspiration: At last by Etta James

A/N: I'm very sorry this took me so long to update. I had a hard time starting this chapter for some reason, then my best friend came from out of town for the weekend so I had to take big breaks. Anyways, I managed and I hope you like this chapter because I do. 🌸

You exhaled slowly as your eyes lifted from the sink to stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. You gently applied the concealer around your eyes and nose, followed by some liquid blush and a dab, dab, dab of gloss to your lips. You ran your fingers through your hair, seeing if you liked it better this way… or that way.

It was almost surreal how in a matter of days — almost two weeks since being welcomed into Penny’s house, welcomed by her, Amelia, Pete… by Bradley — the hard outer layer of the shell you’d resined yourself to occupy had started to chip off. The attentiveness and care of your newfound— why, you didn’t know, weren’t sure if you could call it family, but it felt like one.

You ruffled your hair with a groan, then smoothed any flyaways down. You were perfectly aware that all this fuss wasn’t because of wanting to look good for your third shift at the Hard Deck, but because you were desperately trying to impress a certain Navy pilot. You tried to stifle a giddy smile as you finally decided to leave your hair as it was, its form and texture much improved since Penny lent you those hair products.

It was true that Bradley’s care for you was something that touched you in a different way than that of Penny and Pete’s. Even the happiness at being included into Bradley and Amelia’s bingeing of Friends, couldn’t compare to the quiet, peaceful joy you felt every time that man simply looked at you.

On one hand, you were sure that you had never felt that same calm with Jett, you were never as peaceful even when you first started dating. It all had felt thrilling and anxiety-inducing, like a rollercoaster. He had whipped your head with crazed declarations of love, of devotion, of your "amazing future together". Bradley was a complete opposite; he was tender and calm, he never spoke over you and made himself your equal. He was wonderful and you had started to like him… a lot.

On the other hand, however, it was difficult to ignore the nagging feeling of worry in your heart. You had shared with him where trusting someone with your heart had gotten you the last time. At the time of saying that you didn’t exactly think you were admitting that you saw him as a contender for your heart. Frankly, you thought it was impossible that he might develop feelings for you. You were difficult, unlovable, too much. Jett had made sure you learned that, both with his words and his hands.

If Bradley could ever like you, love you, would you be enough? Or would he grow tired of you and push you aside?

You didn’t think you’d survive another heartbreak.

Nevertheless, you let out a final sigh of resignation as you turned away from the bathroom mirror to go downstairs for breakfast. You’d already had one coffee with Bradley, as per your daily tradition, so your stomach had started to churn in hunger. Penny had made sure to build your appetite over the first week and now you couldn’t really start your morning without her delicious forest berry and honey oatmeal.

‘Morning,’ you smiled at everyone gathered at the breakfast table. They all smiled back.

Pete, or Mav as he’d told you you could call him, was reading the news on his tablet, Penny was making another brew of coffee and its fragrance filled the space of the kitchen, Amelia was watching YouTube videos with her earphones on so she was unaware of anything surrounding her.

Bradley grabbed the chair next to his and pulled it back for you, beaming through a mouthful of eggs and bacon. Your stomach fluttered briefly again, but not with hunger. You gladly accepted the offered chair, sitting on your friend’s side for the second time this morning.

‘You look really nice,’ he told you quietly. His voice sounded a little unsure, his cheeks and neck were flushing a very bright red. You sincerely prayed that a minuscule part of it was because of you and a particular sweatshirt you were wearing.

Suddenly, all your fussing in front of the mirror made more sense.

You brushed away an invisible speck of dust from your mum jeans, then said just as quietly to him, ‘Thanks, Bradley.’

He leaned back in his chair, a stupidly large grin on his lips and his moustache curling above them. He stuffed his mouth with more bacon, humming contentedly at the taste. A bowl of oatmeal was placed in front of you by Penny who took the seat next to Mav.

‘When do you need me at work today, Penny?’ You asked, digging into your breakfast.

‘From 4 till close tonight, I’m afraid.’ Penny sipped from her coffee. ‘We always get a lot of people on Wednesday and with the Dagger Squad starting to pour in... There’s bound to be a lot of people.’

You nod, but notice the cautious look she gives you over the rim of her cup.

‘Are you gonna be fine?’

You know what she means. Everyone’s been practically walking on eggshells about you moving in large groups of people. Any other person would get annoyed at being treated so cautiously, but you actually feel grateful to have someone care for your comfort and not a see it as nuisance. You were having to re-learn to accept care and attention as a standard and not as a luxury. ‘I think I will. We were busy last night and I did well, I think.’

‘You were amazing!’ Penny grinned.

‘You were a natural!’ Bradley added next to you and you felt your chest swell with a huge breath of pride.

‘But I worry, you know.’

‘I know, Penny.’

You two smiled at each other and you could see in Penny’s eyes that she was willing to leave it at that. If you were certain that you would be comfortable surrounded by lots of people then she was perfectly willing to trust your judgement.

Amelia finished up her breakfast, pulling one earphone out of one ear to ask Bradley, ‘Is 'Nix coming back today?’

‘Yeah,’ he replied. ‘I’ve promised to pick her up from the bus station. But I’ll drop Blossom off for her shift first and the two of us can go get her.’

‘Noice,’ Amelia grinned.

You turned to Bradley, curious who “Nix” was. It was stupid, but you were suddenly holding on to hope that she wasn’t someone important to Bradley. Like a girlfriend, or a wife… it would make your feel so stupid about your little crush and make you doubt every interaction you’ve had with the guy.

What if she really was his girlfriend? Why hadn’t he mentioned her? What if you’d misconstrued his attention towards you and this was all just his way of showing kindness to a stranger? Because you were still very much a stranger. Yes, you had shared things about each other’s lives, but there was still a big chunk of your life — encapsulating the past three years, to be precise — that you were still very secretive about even after he’d basically given you his entire biography.

‘Phoenix is one of the pilots in our squadron,’ Maverick explained to you and your gaze snapped to his friendly one across the table. ‘She and Bradley were friends in the Academy. Am I right?’

He turned his eyes to Bradley who was wearing a very endearing goofy look on his face. ‘If by that you mean that she was the only person who could, and still does, kick my ass from time to time to keep me in line, then yeah.’ Bradley grinned your way and you felt all doubts subside. ‘She’s really cool, you’re gonna love her!’

‘And her girlfriend, Frankie,’ the older man added.

Mav gave you a conspiratorial smile and a quick wink that seemed to go unnoticed by everyone else at the table. You didn’t get it at first, but then Maverick made a few more offhand remarks about how Phoenix was visiting her girlfriend in San Fran and you understood.

A tentative smiled pulled at your lips and you were happy enough to look back down as you continued to dig into your breakfast.

You hurried around the bar, delivering drinks and taking orders for the next ones. The Hard Deck was crawling with people, mainly Top Gun personnel, and the stools around the bar were full by several groups who were enjoying a nice night out after work.

Beer mugs were hanging off of pegs above your head, the ochre light of the many tiny bulbs on the ceiling bouncing off of their clear white enamel surface. The jukebox in the corner was softly humming the end notes to Danger Zone. Chairs scraped against the wooden floor as some patrons dragged them from table to table, joining their friends or colleagues.

When you checked the time on the register, it was barely past 8:30. Penny was right when she said that it would be a busy evening. But a busy evening meant you would tire yourself enough that you’ll sleep like a log through the night. But even if you did, you still were going to wake up early enough to have your morning coffee with Bradley on the back porch.

The thought seemed to bring with itself a small pinch in your upper back, causing you to roll your shoulders a few times to ease the feeling. If the pinch turned into full-on pain, you’d take some painkillers — Penny seemed to have a good enough stock in her medicine cabinet because you never seemed to run out. Small blessings, you supposed.

You were bringing two of Penny’s regulars a couple of Bud Light’s when you saw a familiar face pop up above everybody else. Bradley grinned when he met your eyes, making his way around tables and people to get to you. When he got near enough, he slipped in the gap between two stools and rested his elbow on the bar.

‘Hey, Blossom.’

‘Hey, Bradley.’

The two of you stared at each other, smiles on your faces but no more words were exchanged.

‘And I’m Phoenix, thanks for the introduction, Rooster.’

A shorter woman slid next to Bradley, bumping her shoulder against his. Her hair was loosely falling about her shoulders in perfectly styles beach waves. She wore a pristine white tank top with a simple golden chain, interlocked with her dog tags, to finish a look that screamed confidence. She smiled at you and you instantly felt the need for her to be your friend.

‘Sorry.’ Bradley let out a soft chuckle. ‘Blossom, this is Phoenix.’

‘Natasha Trace,’ she added as she extended her arm to you. You shook it gladly. ‘Phoenix is my callsign, but you can call me whatever.’

‘You wrung Hangman’s arm behind his back when he called you “Tash".’

‘He was asking for it. I hate “Tash”, sounds fucking pretentious. I’m used to Phoenix though,’ she let you know and you nodded.

‘Phoenix, it is then.’

‘I’m guessing Blossom isn’t a callsign…?’

You heartily laughed, ‘No, no. It’s an old nickname. Curtesy of Penny. Bradley seems to like using it.’

You glanced at him just in time to notice the intense shade of red cover his cheeks and run down his neck, matching the hibiscus print on his Hawaiian shirt. He looked around, waving at some other people at the pool table. You’d noticed them when they came in and ordered their drinks from Penny. She seemed to know them well and apparently so did Rooster. They included a tall blond who could pass for a Golden Age Hollywood star and an equally handsome black man who smiled at you politely when your eyes met across the bar top.

‘I’ll, uh… I’ll go say hi to Hangman and Coyote. Didn’t know they were back,’ he scurried off, clearly embarrassed, and you worried it was because of you and what Phoenix said.

One of the barstools was left open and Phoenix dragged it over and sat at the bar, giving you her order. You quickly made the two double rums with diet coke she asked for and handed them to her.

‘Gotta admit,’ she said after popping two metal straws in the drinks that she carried in her tote bag. ‘I’ve never seen Rooster so smitten.’

You choked on your own spit while polishing a tray of glasses, seeing as no one needed you to service them. Phoenix’s words didn’t just take you aback, they threw you across the floor and made you splutter in shock.

‘I-I don’t know what you mean.’

You felt the tips of your ears heat up.

Phoenix smiled at you, but before she could reply, she was joined by a curvy brunette who thanked her for the drink and kissed her cheek. Phoenix quickly introduced the two of you and you shook hands with Francisca Vasquez (“call me Frankie, Francisca is such a mouthful”, she told you), Phoenix’s girlfriend.

‘I was just telling Blossom here that I’d never seen Rooster that smitten before.’

Frankie nodded, ‘Yeah, me neither. Poor boy couldn’t talk of anything else on the car ride over. He was really excited for us to meet you.’

‘And she doesn’t believe me,’ Phoenix added.

‘It’s not that I don’t believe you,’ you apologised. ‘I just think he’s being friendly, that’s all.’

‘Trust me, I’ve known Bradley for a long time and I have never seen him be friendly like that.’

Frankie hummed in agreement around the length of her straw.

‘You should’ve seen him just now. That chicken fucking blushed.’

‘No!’ Frankie gasped in disbelief, grabbing her girlfriend’s shoulder. Her features soften and she clutched her heart as she looked at you, ‘Oh my god, you two are, like, the cutest!’

You tried to stifle a smile as you furiously rubbed the rag over a non-existent speck of dirt on the glass in your hands.

‘Alright, let’s not freak the girl out yet,’ Phoenix said to Frankie. ‘Let’s go join the squadron. Bob should be here any minute.’

‘Oh! I also wanna know why Hangman and Coyote look so touchy-feely all of a sudden.’

‘Weren’t we the same when we first started dating?’ Phoenix wiggled her eyebrows.

Frankie gasped again, ‘Do you think!’ She hurried towards the pool table, dragging her girlfriend along who threw a quick “see ya later” at you before hurrying away. Her and Frankie joined the gathered men, exchanging brief greetings. Bradley patted his best friend on the shoulder, telling her something which made her laugh. And then he glanced back towards you with a little smile which you gladly returned.

The evening passed quickly and most people filtered out of the bar to either go home or change locations. At one point, Penny told you to go sit with Bradley’s squadron as there wasn’t much else to do than take stock and close the registers, something she was completely fine doing herself. Before you could start to protest that you needed to help bring bottles out of the cellar, she pushed a glass of iced water into your hands and gave you the rest of the night off.

You tentatively made your way over to the table where what you now knew to be the Dagger Squad was hanging out, drinking and laughing the night away. Bradley was the first to see you approach and patted the empty chair on his left side for you to sit. Thankfully, Phoenix was on your left so you didn’t feel that anxious about joining this new group of people. Bradley took notice of your unsurety, opting to take over introductions so you wouldn’t have to do it yourself. Thank whatever god for Bradley Bradshaw!

You learned that the Old-Time-y-looking one was Hangman (or Bagman as Phoenix called him to which he responded to by playfully flipped her off), the man beside him was Coyote. Then there was Bob who much like you seemed the shy type, lingering around the edges of the group without getting too involved in the conversation but was otherwise kept close by the obviously tight-knit group. Fanboy, a goofy but really nice guy whose every second sentence included a Star Trek reference — explains the callsign, you guessed. Finally there was Payback, the most laid back in the group, who was sat between Phoenix and Frankie and showing them photos of his niece. They’d all just returned from visiting their families and had stories to share about their time on leave.

When the stories ran short and Penny handed them the last round on the house, before she gave you the keys to lock up because Mav was taking her on a late screening of a movie they both loved, the group decided to quickly finish up and call it a night.

Hangman and Coyote were the first to leave, the latter claiming that he’d forgotten the keys to his flat on base and he’d have to take the couch.

‘Are the two really dating?’ You’d asked Phoenix after the pair had made their way to Hangman’s truck in the Hard Deck’s small parking lot.

Phoenix snorted, ‘I’d be surprised if they weren’t. Honestly, Bagman and Coyote have been years in the making and I guess it took a life-threatening mission for the two to do something about that sexual fucking tension.’

‘They look happy,’ you commented quietly. ‘But why all the hiding?’

‘It wouldn’t be as easy for them. I was always out and made it known. Couldn’t care less if people had an issue with me, because I certainly didn’t.’ You nodded and she continued with a serious tone. ‘Whatever is they like to tell themselves, the Navy still is very conservative about those things. I understand the two wanting to keep things private until they’re sure that they’re ready to come out with their relationship.’

‘I hope it works out. They both seem like great guys.’

‘Oh, they are! Bagman is a bit full of himself—’

‘Just a bit?’ Bradley seemed to join your conversation at the right moment.

‘Admit it, you like having those little bickering sessions with him.’

Bradley grinned, ‘Keeps the blood pumping.’

Just then Bob said he’d be heading out and Payback offered to drive him, Phoenix and Frankie back to base. Which would leave you and Bradley to lock up by yourselves.

You felt all too nervous to just sit there as everyone was making their way out and sharing hugs and pats on the shoulder. You opted to give Phoenix and Frankie a quick hug goodbye before going to lock the back door first.

‘Hey, do you want to go out with us tomorrow?’ Phoenix asked you, her arm casually thrown over her girlfriend’s shoulder. ‘There’s a really nice nightclub that we visit every time we’re together in town.’

You flustered, ‘Oh, I don’t want to intrude. You two would probably want to spend some time on your own.’

‘Girlie,’ Frankie smirked, putting her hand on your shoulder. ‘We spent the last three weeks in bed with this one’s head firmly lodged between my legs, I think we’ve seen enough of each other.’

‘It’d be a good opportunity to get to know our new friend better.’

Your heart made a leap at already being considered their friend. ‘Well, if you insist. I’ll, uh, have to check with Penny to see if she’ll need me for a shift tomorrow, of course.’

‘Here—’ Frankie fished her phone out of her jean pocket and handed it to you, ‘— put your phone number in and we’ll text you tomorrow to sort out details.’

‘Okay,’ your smile grew a little as you typed in the digits of your phone number then handed the device back to her. ‘That’s me. I’ll go check on the back door and make sure everything’s good. I’ll hopefully see you tomorrow.’

‘Bye, bye, honey!’ Frankie hugged you again, followed by Phoenix, before you turned on your heel to do what you set out to do.

After you were out of sight and out of earshot, Phoenix pulled Bradley into a hug. When she leaned back, she looked at him all seriously and told him.

‘You better pull your head out of your ass, Bradshaw. This girl obviously likes you and if you don’t do something about it, Frankie and I will snatch her away.’

Bradley stifled a laugh and nodded to his best friend, cheeks once again dusted bright red.

‘Will do, ‘Nix.’

‘Come on, amor, let’s leave those two lovebirds alone. They might as well make use of that pool table while the bar is empty.’

Frankie simply wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, snickering when Bradley’s mouth dropped in astonishment (and a litany of incoherent noises poured out in response) as her and Phoenix made their way outside to leave with Bob and Payback.

Sitting alone in the quiet gave Bradley enough time to go over every possible scenario as he went to throw away the final group of bottles in the glass bin. He was panicking, of course — why wouldn’t he panic? It wasn’t like he was putting his feelings on the line — a wholly uncharted territory — or allowing himself to believe, to hope, that your shyness and your sweetness around him was just for him, because of him. Maverick and Phoenix wouldn’t let him forget it, if they turned out to be right. Which he hoped for beyond fucking everything. He was too far gone at this point.

‘Fuuuuuuck,’ he groaned, rubbing a hand all over his face in exasperation. Wasn’t he too old for this shit? For heartache, and fluttery feelings in his chest, and—

‘Bradley, are you okay?’

He whipped around to see you, looking at him with worry etched in your features. He really hated to see you worry, couldn’t fucking stand seeing anything but happiness in your eyes. He wanted to be able to give you that and so much more, if you’d only let him.

‘Yeah, Blossom. Just a little tired, ’sall.’

You took a step towards him, fingers fiddling with the edge of the sweatshirt, his sweatshirt. Bradley couldn’t stop thinking about that fact, he’d latched onto it and felt stupidly giddy about it. You looked beautiful in anything, but especially so in his clothes.

‘… would you?’

‘Sorry?’

You seemed to be trying to hold back a grin as you pointed to the ceiling. Bradley looked up to find you gesturing to a light switch that was placed — for some inane reason — on the fucking ceiling.

‘I’m a little short,’ you explained softly. ‘Last time I had to get on a chair, but I thought… since you’re here…’

‘Yeah, you’re not getting on a chair, baby.’

The term of endearment slipped out accidentally and he made the choice to ignore it altogether. Maybe you didn’t notice, but he couldn’t really count on it. Even if he’d managed to escape death by the skin of his teeth a month ago, he didn’t think luck would favour him this time round.

He reached up, easily fingering the switch and turning it off. Almost immediately all the additional lights above the bar, pool table and jukebox were off, leaving on only a few lightbulbs. The semi-darkness made their closeness all the more intimate and Bradley could count on one thing: you couldn’t see him blush for the nth time today.

You stood mere inches from one another, chests nearly touching but not quite. You shakily exhaled, a sound that drew goosebumps to Bradley’s skin. He could distinctly feel the warmth of your breath on his chest, where the collar of his Hawaiian shirt was open. He slowly brought his hand down, letting it drop to his side while he kept his eyes on yours.

You broke the silence first, ‘Do you… Do you wanna head out?’

He nodded, moving out of the way to let you through first.

You opened the front door, hit the switch by the entrance which plunged the Hard Deck in total darkness, and walked out. Bradley waited for you as you locked up and pocketed the keys, then the two of you silently walked over to the Bronco.

‘Do you mind if I let you drive?’

‘Me?’

‘I’ve had a couple of beers,’ Bradley explained. ‘They were light, by this time I should be fine enough to drive back to Penny’s, but I’d rather not risk it. Especially with you in the car.’

‘Okay, uh…’

‘Do you have a driver’s license?’

‘No, no, I do!’ You pulled out your phone, waving it. ‘I started keeping all my most valuable documents behind my case a year ago. Keeps it easy to access.’

‘Good, good,’ Bradley nodded repeatedly. Some sense seemed to come back to him and he opened the driver’s side door for you, letting you settle behind the steering wheel.

‘Okay, it’s been a while since I’ve driven a stick shift,’ you admitted as Bradley fastened his seatbelt. You made yourself comfortable in the driver’s seat, checking the side and rearview mirrors.

‘Don’t worry, I can walk you through it if you need me to.’

He did as he promised and only when you were sure enough of yourself, you started the car and left the parking lot.

The drive passed in relative silence this way. Bradley was much too unsure of what to do with himself in between giving you the occasion direction through the streets of North Island, so he sat back and kept his hands to himself.

‘Your friends are really nice.’

‘They are,’ Bradley smiled, eyes on the road ahead. The streets were more and more familiar, two blocks away from the Benjamin residence.

‘I-I hope they… liked me.’

‘There’s no question about that, Blossom. Phoenix doesn’t keep people around who she doesn’t click with. She’s a good judge of character.’

‘That’s good then,’ you briefly looked at him. ‘She seems to know you very well.’

‘Hope she didn’t air out all my dirty laundry. Oh, turn here,’ Bradley pointed you to the right direction.

‘No, she… she just cares for you like any good friend should.’

‘That’s Phoenix. And now she’ll care for you, too.’

‘That’s good to know.’

‘We’re here.’

You slowly turned into the driveway. Penny’s jeep was nowhere to be seen, her and Mav were most likely still at the movies. You and Bradley undid your seatbelts, only to stare at one another in silence.

This was one of those moments that last a few seconds, but seemed to contain ages within them. Two pairs of eyes delving into one another, reading one another, understanding one another. Your breaths matched Bradley’s in rhythm. Your hearts, albeit neither of you could feel the other’s yet, matched in rhythm, too.

And then suddenly, you were reaching for him just as Bradley was reaching for you. Hands reaching for faces and lips joining in a kiss. Bradley couldn’t wait another second, desperate to have you closer. His hands dipped down to softly grip your thighs as he moved you from the driver’s seat over to his. You didn’t seem to need much convincing because you were comfortably settling yourself onto his lap.

Bradley kissed you with a thirst that he’d never felt before. Like he was drinking from you, feeling full with each sip yet still needing more. Your lips were soft, just as they looked. Your hands were gentle, cupping his face. Your body felt sinfully wonderful, fitting itself against his.

Bradley needed you, wanted you. He couldn’t remember feeling that for another person in his life. He wanted you so bad!

Your smaller hands trailed down to his shoulders, your lips leaving his to kiss the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw. Bradley’s hands gripped your hips, grounding them down on his groin. You two were like a couple of horny teenagers, him copping his first feel of a girl, you getting to rub yourself on him. His cock was growing harder and he needed you, right then and there he needed you. In any way he could have you.

‘Bradley.’

Your soft whimper of his name seemed to snap him to reality and he pushed your shoulder back a little which instantly stopped everything you were doing.

‘Wait a second,’ he gasped, tongue coming to lick his upper lip and the taste of your chapstick lingering there.

Your eyes widened and brows furrowed.

‘D-Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry.’

You looked confused, you looked hurt and Bradley wanted to kick himself.

‘No, shit! Sorry,’ he stumbled over his own words, his larger hands coming up to tenderly hold your face. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong. I swear!’

‘Then why did you— I thought— I mean, you kissed me back. Did I misunderstand?’

‘No, you didn’t. I just… I feel like I’m taking advantage.’

Now you look even more confused, but at least you didn’t look pained.

‘Taking advantage how?’

Bradley sat up which caused you to wobble in his lap, but his hands came up once again to steady you. ‘You… You just came out of a relationship. A very bad one.’

You nodded sombrely, letting him continue.

‘I just… I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage. I would’ve waited longer, let you settle more, but… fuck, baby, you just looked so beautiful tonight!’

He leaned in and kissed you again, more softly and slowly. Taking his time to savour each second that his lips were on yours.

‘You are not taking advantage,’ you whispered the words into his open mouth. ‘I want this. I want you.’

Bradley groaned. His arms came around you, holding you against him. ‘I want you, too.’

You wrapped yours around his neck and rested your forehead against his. You took a few moments together and breathed slowly.

‘I know what worries you,’ you said. ‘But what happened to me before. It ended long before I met you. And the last… week or so… Bradley, I feel… I feel happy around you, with you.’

He nodded, staring into your eyes and taking in every word of yours with great attention and care. ‘I feel that way, too. I just didn’t want you to think that I was using you right now. Or something.’

You chuckled, cupping his jaw and drawing him in for a kiss.

‘I think I’ve learned enough about you to know that you’re not that kind of person.’

‘You never know.’ He grinned, sitting up and positioning you more comfortably on his lap, his clothed cock still rubbing deliciously between your legs. ‘I could be a… a scoundrel.’

‘A scoundrel?’ You asked through a giggle.

‘Yes, a scoundrel.’

He kissed you again, tentatively licking the corner of your lips. You seemed disinclined to make him wait any longer, opening your lips slowly and letting him in. Bradley dipped his tongue between them, exploring and tasting more of you.

‘You’re not a scoundrel, Bradley.’

He pulled back and opened his eyes to look at you. He reached up his right hand, touching the tips of his fingers against your bottom lip. Your pupils were blown wide with passion, breath slipping past your lips and tickling his fingers. His other hand toyed with the hem of the UVA sweatshirt.

You smiled, softly kissing the tips of his fingers. You looked simply angelic, your hair illuminated by the porch light behind you. Bradley felt the corners of his own mouth turn up and return your smile. He owed Mav and Phoenix an apology, but maybe not right now. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction just yet.

You took a deep breath. ‘So.’

Bradley smiled even wider. ‘So.’

‘We’re obviously two people who are on the same page about how they feel about the other… right.’

‘Right as rain, baby.’

You seemed to like the term of endearment, biting down on you lip. ‘So… we take this slow?’

‘As slow as you need.’

You nodded and the two of you were in agreement. Not that it was hard to agree on; Bradley was ecstatic.

‘You know… I’ve felt really guilty that you’ve had to sleep on the couch for the past two weeks.’

‘There’s no reason for you to feel bad. I’ve slept on much more uncomfortable surfaces.’

‘Yes, I know. But still…’

You sheepishly looked away for a second and Bradley waited for you. Your hands were warm against his jaw and he didn’t want to part with the feeling of them for a second.

‘Would you like to come sleep with me? Just sleep,’ you added with a smile.

‘I’d like that very much, Blossom.’

Bradley reached out to grab the door handle and open the car door. He slipped out of the car, with you still in his arms. You buried your face in his neck to stifle your laughter and so did Bradley, neither of you wanting to wake up anyone in the houses near by.

Your arms were wrapped around Bradley’s neck, your legs around his waist and he held you there, effortlessly. Not really much of an effort if the fact that it was you he was holding brought such a sense of happiness to his heart.

He blindly closed and locked the Bronco, then walked the both of you up the front steps and inside the house. Then down the hallway, up the stairs, through the door of the guest room and finally! the both of you were on your own.

In the darkness of the room, he gently placed you down on the floor. His hands travelled up and down your body, hands barely skimming your skin, as he helped you out of his sweatshirt. You unbuttoned his Hawaiian shirt in return.

Bradley held your gaze, cupping your cheek and leaning in to tenderly kiss you once you had the shirt off of his shoulders. The pieces of clothing were dropping one by one until you were both left in your underwear.

‘I’ll pop into the bathroom real quick,’ you told him. ‘Just wanna take my make-up off and change into my sleep shirt. Are you…?’

‘I’ll run downstairs quickly to get my sweats. You go and get ready for bed, baby.’

He gave you a quick peck and dashed out of the door, a stupid grin on his face.

When he was back upstairs, he caught the sight of your ass in the lacy underwear as you climbed into bed and slipped under the covers. The sight was enough to have his mouth as dry as a desert.

Bradley cleared his throat as he closed the door behind himself, pattering over to the bed and joining you. You held the duvet up, letting him sneak inside with you. The two of you settled against one another; Bradley rested his head against the pillow while yours was on his shoulder. This was the first time you were laying this closely to one another yet it felt like you’d been doing it forever. It felt right and oh-so good.

Sleep was coming fast and quick. Bradley’s eyelids were growing heavy, his breaths slowing down as he slipped deeper and deeper into the bliss of sleeping next to you.

‘Good night, Bradley.’

‘Good night, Blossom.’

In the morning, the two of you woke up much later than you had been in the last fourteen days. Bradley was holding your smaller frame against his, spooning your from behind. He kissed the back of your neck as you stirred against him, turning around in his arms to say “good morning”.

And for the first time in a while, you woke up without a single pain in your body or worry in your mind.

Next chapter

A/N 2.0: Gotta admit, making Hangman and Coyote a couple was mainly because the first Bradley fic I read was the same-mistakes story by @hufflepuffprincesse and the thought of the two of them as boyfriends has REFUSED to leave me for a second.

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tags: @gretagerwigsmuse @jupitercomet @youlightmeupfinn @craftymoonchaos @the-winter-marvel33 @agent-jbarnes @blahehblah @katieshook02 @amysteryspot @daisyhollyxox @marantha @piceous21 @mak-32 @twoosinrooster @adoringsebstan @beachesandboats @ishipit1420 @machsachds @wishfulhope @everyoneslovechild (crossed over names are people I wasn't able to tag, sorry)

#home to you #iwritetopassthetime #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw

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hlizr50 · 2 years

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Another drabble for my 600 follower celebration!

This lovely prompt came from @ofduskanddreams

She had conveniently just finished From Lukov with Love when I asked what she'd like to see in a drabble. So enjoy this little figure skating AU!!!

Prompt: Figure Skating AU (From Lukov with Love vibes)

Fandom: ACOTAR

Ship: Gwynriel

Word Count: 778 (a little long, but I couldn't help it!!)

“Come on, Berdara.” Azriel was growing increasingly frustrated. “We have to start practicing lifts if we have any hope of being competitive this season. I’m not like that scrawny twerp. I won’t drop you.” The glare that landed on him was downright glacial. He could understand her hesitation where lifts were concerned. Everyone in the figure skating world knew about what had happened two years ago, on the national stage and televised for all to see. A fall from an overhead lift, headfirst into the ice. Bad didn’t even begin to cover it - she’d had to be taken off the ice on a stretcher, unconscious, and the ice had been resurfaced after the blood had been dealt with.

She and her partner had split soon after, which had also rocked the sport. They’d been the most successful American pair in the last thirty years. Fans and fellow skaters were thrilled that they would be able to contend for top honors at worlds - and even the Olympics - finally giving the Russians a run for their money.

But Gwyn had never stopped practicing, stubborn as she was, and he’d jumped at the opportunity to partner with her. Of course, it had been under the guise of giving her one last shot. That at the side of America’s new golden boy, the world would see that she wasn’t just another has-been whose career had been cut short by injury.

That had never been the point. The point was that Azriel wanted to skate with her because she was the best. And she was incredible, and determined, and sassy, and beautiful…

“I know you’re stronger than Blake was,” she muttered as she lowered her eyes and wrapped her arms around her middle. This wasn’t the Gwyneth Berdara he knew, and his stomach twisted with unease even as he began to argue.

“Then what’s your problem?” he spat.

“You wouldn’t understand,” she hissed, turning to stalk away from him.

“If you won’t let me lift you then I don’t see how you think we’re going to–”

“He dropped me, Azriel!” she shrieked, turning back to him. Her eyes glimmered with wetness and he sighed to himself, running his fingers through his unruly hair.

“I get it, Gwyn, but I won’t–”

“No you don’t. He didn’t just miss his grip. His toe pick didn’t catch on the ice.”

Azriel’s dark brows furrowed. “What are you saying, Gwyn?” The copper-haired beauty stood before him, a single tear making its way over the freckled apples of her cheeks.

“Blake came on to me before Nationals. He wanted to be a couple, and tried to gaslight me into believing that I’d been flirting with him and hitting on him. I told him I only wanted to be skating partners.” Those beautiful eyes, the color of a sunlit sea, fell to the floor as she tightened her grip on herself. “He was angry. And he lifted me into the air, and then let me go. He let me fall.”

Azriel tensed, lips pressed into a thin line. Disbelief had frozen him to the floor. “I… you can’t possibly mean…” He couldn’t finish the thought. It was too much.

“I tried to plead my case to the police - that he’d done it on purpose. It was all too easy for Blake to claim that his arm had just given out and he hadn’t reacted quickly enough. But… I saw his eyes, when I was falling, and the only thing there was cruelty.”

The air whooshed out of him, and he barely realized his feet were moving before he was in front of her, gripping her face between his calloused palms. Rage simmered in his blood, and he was afraid he looked crazed as he searched her expression. No untruths. No malice. Just resignation.

Blake had dropped her. Intentionally. And Azriel swore right there that Blake might just also end up with a head injury.

“I’m not him, Gwyn,” he whispered fiercely, pressing his lips to her brow before he could even think. “Fuck.” Azriel pulled her into his arms, squeezing her as if she might disappear. And she could have. She could have been dead, and it would have been at the hands of her partner. Someone she should have been able to trust with something so infinitely precious as her life.

“We’ll take it slow,” he murmured into her hair, combing errant fingers through the strands as he felt her arms wrap around him. “We’ll go at your speed. But you can trust me, baby. I will never, ever let you fall. Okay?”

Gwyn nodded against his chest, but he didn’t let go. He wouldn’t ever.

He couldn’t.

Tag List: @tealnymph-writes @trashforazriel @ofduskanddreams @headcanonheadcase @vikingmagic33 @damedechance @mercarimari @mystical-blaise @daevastanner @secretlovelybeauty @meher-sumedha @imsointobooks @flora-shadowshine @positivewitch @imwritingthesewords @camreadsum @shisingh @gwynrielsupremacist @sagureads @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @sv0430 @writing-spaces @onemorenightdreamer @feyretale @almosttenaciousmoon @the-introverted-bibliophile @live-the-fangirl-life @silverflameataraxia @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @kimstclair @romancebooksandshit @booknerd87 @velidewrites

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entropical-punch · 2 years

Text

Patience

Gabe asks the Reader to play a little waiting game, and they couldn’t be more excited to participate.

My first fic based on the world of College Craze by @collegecraze / @prettyinkgames. This stars everyone’s favorite(maybe?) bastard boy, Gabe. Enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, semi-rough sex, oral sex, dirty talk, bondage, general BDSM, stuff they don’t teach you in school.

You heard the front door open, and a rush of nervous energy shot down your spine. Gabe had finally gotten home from running errands.

Before he left, he had asked you if you wanted to play a game. You had eagerly accepted. The stuff he liked to whisper in your ear during work had left you wanting whatever it was he had promised, and when he pulled out a pair of red fabric handcuffs from his nightstand, you couldn’t stop your legs from rubbing together in anticipation.

“Now, kitten,“ he had said as he tightened the cuffs around your arms, now pinned behind your back. “I’m gonna be gone for a while, and I want you to wait for me. Can you do that for me, baby?”

You nodded back, feeling a little too turned on by what might happen to be sad about the fact that he even left. So, you watched him close the bedroom door behind him as you sat on the bed, kneeling for your master.

And that’s exactly where he found you when he finally came into his room, his eyes lighting up in excitement before remembering that he was a cool guy and steeling his gaze.

“Did you miss me, baby?” he asked, sitting on the bed next to you.

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you comfortable enough? Do you want to keep going?” he said, readjusting the cuffs and running a finger under them to rub at the imprints. He was being soft, but you knew that wasn’t going to last very long. He must’ve missed you too.

“Yes, sir. I want to keep going.”

In lieu of an order, he pressed a thumb to your mouth, the pad pushing at your top lip. You eagerly sucked the digit in, running your tongue along it, hollowing out your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down.

“Oh, fuck,” he growled, removing his thumb and replacing it with two other fingers, further stretching your mouth open. He started thrusting them in and out, making sure to reach the back of your throat. You couldn’t stop yourself from drooling; the spit trailing down your chin.

He chuckled. “You’re already making a mess of yourself, kitten. I wonder how else I can ruin you.”

He paused, taking his fingers out and trailing them down the side of your neck, resting at your collarbone.

“Well, baby? Do you want me to ruin you?”

You couldn’t even pretend to deny how much you wanted that, how badly the spot between your legs ached for him.

“Please, Gabe, sir, I want this, I want you, I-”

He cut off your ramblings with a squeeze around your throat. He narrowed his eyes at you, lips quirking up into the smile he always wore when he knew he was getting his way.

“Good. Then get on the floor, kneel between my legs, and suck.”

You did as he ordered, hands still tied behind you, unable to do anything but wait for him to pull his cock out and reward you. You watched him slowly unzip and lower his jeans, the toned muscles of his abdomen forming a V that dipped under his boxers. You could see how hard he was already, precum already staining the front of his shorts. Finally, he lowered those too.

He ran a hand through your hair, sweet and soft before digging into your scalp and pulling you forward. You parted your lips, and he quickly sheathed himself inside as you tried not to gag. He was so big, and even though this was nowhere near the first time you had done this, you still weren’t used to it.

That didn’t bother Gabe. In fact, he had told you just how much he loved watching you choke and whimper and struggle to fit all of him in your mouth. He was always so proud of you every time you managed to swallow him deeper, cheeks hollowing around his length and throat fluttering against the tip.

You continued your ministrations, bobbing your head up and down, trying to relax as much as possible. This was all turning you on so much, being cuffed and ordered to serve Gabe, that you couldn’t help but press your legs together, hoping to ease some of the friction.

“Trying to get yourself off, kitten? Why don’t you finish helping me, and then I’ll help you. Does that sound good, baby? Can you do that for me?”

His praise spurred you on to move faster, running your tongue up and down his length, looking up at him, silently begging for more. You could taste the saltiness of his precum as he got closer and closer to the edge.

He shut his eyes and came with a groan, holding your head in place to ensure you swallowed every last drop. Not that he needed to do that. If he asked, you would have licked it up right off the floor, if that’s what he wanted.

“That’s my good fucking baby,” he sighed, pulling his cock out and admiring his work. “Open wide for me, kitten.”

You did as he asked, sticking your tongue out. He let out a small noise of appreciation before pulling you up back onto the bed, making you straddle his lap.

“Now I think it’s time for reward, baby, since you did so well for me.” He slid a hand down your stomach, teasing the edge of your underwear, making you want it hard and fast and now.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, letting out a whine and slowly grinding your hips forward.

He pulled away, staring at you with his trademark smile.

“Since you want to be ruined so bad,” he whispered, fingers finally finding your sex and making you cry out. “Maybe the next time I tie you up, I'll put a fun little toy between your thighs and really see just how patient you can be, baby.”

You couldn’t even muster up the energy to say yes with how much heat was pooling in your belly. All you could think was how much you wanted this man, how ready you were for whatever he had in mind.

#gabe #college craze #pretty ink #pretty ink games #ns/fw #fic

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giuliadrawsstuff · 2 years

Text

Paperwork.

The floorboards creaked as he approached Hange's room. Moonlight spilled from the corridor window casting a cold white light to guide his silent steps.

As always he couldn't sleep.

Didn't matter how much he tried, be it tea, herbs or staying up until late, he just couldn't sleep. As soon as he lied on the bed and closed his eyes, he was fully awake again, eyelids always heavy only for the lack of sleep, yet not enough to make him rest.

So he had decided to go outside. He had put on some sweatpants, boots and a long-sleeved shirt. But instead of heading for the door leading to the stairs for the courtyard, his feet had brought him to Hange's door.

He stopped in front of it not knowing if it was too late. He was fairly sure they'd still be awake, diving head first into documents and papers, yet he was afraid of waking them from what little sleep they might have been able to get.

A soft thud and a muffled curse came through the closed door, conferming they were still wide awake. So he gathered himself and rapped softly. They didn't answer, but Levi opened the wooden door all the same and crept inside, closing it silently behind him.

Hange layed sprawled on their bed, shirtless except for their binder, sweatpants and huge socks on, eyebrows furrowed and eyepatch off, drowned in paperwork. Letters and books were scattered all around them, some covering the floor near the bed too. Since they were mumbling to themselves lost in their thoughts, they didn't hear him until his knees brushed the mattress and he brusquely called to them:

"Ohi, Four Eyes, why are you still awake? And still working?"

They jumped on the bed to a sitting position and shot him a crazed, surprised look. Once they saw it was him, one eyebrow flew up: "I could ask you the same thing, Short Stuff."

He blushed slightly.

"Tch. Couldn't sleep. Again."

With a knowing look, Hange scratched their head with the back of the pen they were holding, then hopped a little to the left and patted the free spot beside them.

"Come sit by me, I still have some paperwork to finish but I hope I can make it quick."

He kicked off his boots and neatly placed them by the door, then slowly climbed onto Hange's bed and sat beside them, resting his back on their pillows. Legs crossed, Hange leaned forward over the bed to keep writing, resuming the mumbling.

He lost count of time and managed to doze off, lulled by Hange's soft talking and by the scratching of the pen on paper.

When he opened his eyes after a while, Hange was offering him a steaming mug of tea, having precariously placed theirs on the bedsheets. He took the mug from their hands and thanked them, sipping his tea quietly while watching Hange's back bend forward again, hand moving fastly over the papers, setting aside the signed ones and starting on the new.

As he kept drinking, Hange's writing started to slow down and he noticed their head falling every once in a while bumping on the papers and then shooting back up.

He set aside his finished tea and slowly rested a hand on Hange's bony arched back to call their attention.

"Four Eyes, you probably should go to sleep if you don't want to leave drool all over the paperwork."

Their head shot back up with a startle and they turned to look at him: messy russet hair sticking out of their half ponytail, glasses askew, heavy eyelids, bags under their eyes, sore left eye where the eyepatch had left its sign after wearing it all day, a crooked half smile and some black ink staining their chin. He couldn't help but let out a chuckling "tch", "You look like shit."

He reached out with his hand and vigorously rubbed their chin until the ink stain started fading slowly.

"You don't look like a ray of sunshine yourself, mister", they retorted, snickering and pointing at his tired eyes. "Ouch! Don't rub so hard, Small Stuff!! You're pulling off my skin too!"

Levi tched again and once he was fairly satisfied with the cleaning he pulled Hange back towards the pillows.

They removed their glasses and tossed them back at the end the bed by the paperwork. Still smiling broadly, they settled close to him feeling the warmth irradiating from his body. He wrapped his arms around them and slid them both lower to better lie on the mattress and pillows.

Paperwork was now completely forgotten as Hange snaked their arms around his back and pressed their face to his chest. He smelled of clean, lavender. Always clean. Always neat. Levi buried his face into their tangled hair, tightening his grip and tching softly into it.

"You should brush this nest you call hair once in a while if you don't want birds actually laying eggs in it."

A cackle escaped Hange's mouth and they raised their head to look at him, humoured.

As their grin turned into the warmest smile, he glanced down at them, his expression still a scowl. Their warm smile immediately melt his heart, heat pooling in his chest, and he couldn't resist bringing up his hand to cup their jaw. His thumb traded lightly on it, back and forth, making them lean into his tender touch. He closed the distance kissing the bridge of their nose lightly, then brushed his lips on their left sightless eye, their cheekbones, corner of their mouth. Light as a feather. Hange giggled softly, then captured his mouth in a kiss, tasting the black tea they'd offered him earlier. He kissed them back, running his slender fingers through their tangled hair, tightening his grip. When they parted, Levi pressed his forehead on theirs and nudged them, noses bumping lightly. Hange answered by nuzzling their nose on his, then hiding their face into the crook of his neck. They pressed their bodies together tightly, not leaving any space between them, paperwork scattered around them like stars around the moon.

"Thank you, Levi."

Hange whispered softly into his chest. He just tightened his hug in response, arms folding around their torso protectively. He ran his hands back and forth caressing their back, feeling the soft scarred skin, the protruding bones and muscles and the rough fabric of the binder.

They played with his hair, occasionally stopping to scrape at his undercut.

"I should be the one thanking you, Shitty Glasses." His whisper was barely audible through their hair, yet Hange pressed a warm kiss on his clavicle and snuggled even closer. Their legs clawed onto his hips, holding tightly. He curled his legs up to bring them nearer to Hange's.

"You're the only one I have left, Hans."

Hange hugged him more, clinging to him, tears on the brim of their tired eyes ready to pour.

"You're the only one I have left too, Levi."

They both fell asleep like that, tightly pressed to eachother, waking only when the first rays of the morning sun filtered through the window the next day.

#my art #levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #attack on titan #cuddles #drabble

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cassandrajoybellbittner · 3 months

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Burn For Me - Chapter 5b

*Warning Adult Content*

Conner Carmichael

Our gaze locked for a long moment and I felt a strong surge coarse through my body, mainly my chest as my heart stopped.

I had the strongest urge to move the stray strands of beautiful dark hairs that lay in his face but I held myself back.

'What is your name?' I wanted to ask so badly.

"Not only that but they broke a prisoner out of his cell and attempted to escaped, that cannot go unpunished," the Head Elder's words suddenly caught my attention from my mate.

I snapped my head up to the two who stood head to head.

"He was following his instincts Cedrick... don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same to save your mate?"

"We're not talking about what I would have done."

"Yes we are... we're talking about what ANY one would have done to save their mate," Jim was becoming heated from this argument.

His anger was hard to miss because it was so unusual to witness.

"I won't let you lay a hand on, either one of them."

"Oh please. Save me the melodrama, Jim," Mr. Heath rolled his eyes.

"Besides you have no jurisdiction here to tell me how we are to punish the members of our community, which includes Connor."

"Yes but he was originally from mine," Jim fired back.

"Well... he isn't now. Is he?" the man raise an arrogant brow.

Jim was silenced at this... he was right.

"If you kill him, you're going to have to kill me to," I finally said, tired of their back and forth attacks on each other.

I got the reaction I expected as every eye turned to me.

"Connor," this was Caleb's warning voice but I shook my head and closed my eyes.

"You all know killing ones mate is like killing the soul and if you do kill him, I would be nothing. I might even go crazed with grief. I would no longer be me," I told them.

I would fight to save my mate but I knew I was only one insignificant wolf with no real power to back it up.

But I would go as far as I could.

"You would really die for someone you've just met today?"

"Since you've never mated Cedrick, there is no way for you to understand the deep emotions that run wild, when your other half is involved," Jim said.

I nodded but didn't miss the quick glance Cedrick gave the woman in the corner.

Everything was silent as I waited for the man to give my death sentence... I just hoped I was with my mate when it happened.

Suddenly Mr. Heath shifted, his nerve wracking silver eyes towards me, before he reached out towards the woman, who instantly stepped forward and placed her hand in his.

"Thea my dear, can you please go find our escapee," his voice took on a light charming tone as he spoke to her.

"Also... I think we're going to need to contact our I Division."

Thea eyes cast down showing off the dark eye make up on her lids as she nodded.

"Yes, Sir," her voice was dark and smoky.

As she glanced up I saw her hazel eyes shine in devotion and respect as they settled on the Head Elder.

"Thank you, my dear."

Then she was gone.

Something was going on with them.

"What are you planning on doing Cedrick?" Jim asked.

"Oh... you'll find out soon enough," the ominous quality of his voice sent a shiver down my spine.

If he was going to kill me I hope it was fast and painless.

Then I remembered the words he said when talking to Thea...

'Go find our escapee.'

'Oh no. Did he mean Constance?'

Shit I got her in a hell of a mess... wait the I Division?

The sound of chains made me turn towards my mate, he looked tired as he lent up against the wall staring down at the floor.

His legs were spread as he sat there, one of his legs were bent at an angle on the ground and the other was bent straight up so he could rests one of his arms over it.

He didn't have the look of a man who was inches from a death sentence or a man who just found his mate.

His head was slowly dipping down so his dirty black hair made a curtain in front of his face.

God he looked so thin, when did he last eat?

When the door opened again I looked up to see Constance struggling as the woman Thea pushed her inside, non to gentle.

"What the hell?" she exclaimed as she stumbled trying to catch her balance again.

When she looked up spotting the Head Elder, she straighten up quickly.

"Head Elder," she said shortly.

"Constance, so nice of you to join us," Mr. Heath smiled at her.

"Us?" she glanced around and saw me standing in front of my mate.

"Caleb?"

"I've called you in here for a special reason, Constance."

"Special reason?" she shifted from one foot to the other in an anxious manner.

"Does that mean, I'm not in trouble?"

Head Elder snickered softly as Thea walked up to him and whispered in his ear.

I watched him close his eyes as he listened to her and nod.

"Oh... you're in deep trouble, young one."

Constance winced.

"Both of you are and I plan to have a very long talk with your father Miss Ellis. But before I do I think it's only proper for me to tell you what you and Connor are in for."

Both Constance and I looked at each other warily, this didn't sound good."

"Today this young man you saved was scheduled to for the death penalty because he was, of course, deemed too dangerous for the public, which he is."

Both of us gasped.

"But since Connor has revealed an important fact and Jim's adamant objection to the execution for his 'feelings' I've come to the decision that since you both took it upon yourselves to release said prisoner from his cell and Connor informing us of his mating you will be taking responsibility. Especially you Connor."

"Mating?" Constance whirled around in my direction, a look of disbelief on her face.

"Responsibility?" this time it was Caleb with the question.

Mr. Heath glanced at him with a curt nod.

"Yes, responsibility."

"You said the boy was dangerous, why would you entrust him in the hand of children?" dad exclaimed.

"Oh Mr. Carmichael relax... I'm not that dense enough to hand over a dangerous man to a couple of kids... that's why we're going to toughen them up a bit."

There was a hidden smile behind his stern face, he was enjoying this.

"Excuse me?" Jim asked in confusion as Constance and I looked at Mr. Heath with furrowed brows.

"What does that mean?" dad demanded lightly, still trying to respect his Head Elder the best he could with his irritation surfacing.

"It means that our two vigilantes here will be staying at a special place called the I Division for the next six months."

"What?" Constance shouted.

I didn't have to ask what the I Division was since had already been living with someone at the pack house who was already a member.

James Chandler, Avery's brother, went on these missions so often that sometime he would just get home one day only to go on another the next day.

The I Division was like the badass special forces, military section of the Elder and Pack Wolf society, even more efficient than the enforcers.

They were also the ones who saved my dad's from certain death because of my very own Uncle and cousin.

'Oh man. What had I got myself in to?'

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maroonghoul · 8 months

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Terror Time 2023!: Days 1 thru 6

Alright! Meant to start a few days ago, but got busy. Here we go!

Dracula: Pages from a Virgin Diary Sometimes, I like starting my annual marathon with one of the many adaptations of Dracula. I was considering the Coppola movie from 1992, but the more I thought about how much I don't like the actual story changes from the book in that one, despite the title. (Mostly how it treats the female characters), I switched it with this one. Turns out those themes were here too, but unlike with the other movie, at least it was made by a director who admits he's doing something different with Dracula, and not claiming he's doing the definitive version only to not do so. That was interpretation. This is almost a parody, what with the opening montage nailing the uncomfortable themes of the original, and the Count literally seducing people with all his (stolen) money!

If any horror story lends itself to ballet, Dracula naturally makes the most sense. I'm only surprised to not hear at least a little nod to Swan Lake in there. I don't know if it's a rights thing or it would've been distracting, but oh well.

Telling the story out of order like this is pretty interesting. Introduces the vampirism more gradually and saves Transylvania, arguably the best part of the story, for the middle. Bit of a shock that this version rushes through that, but I guess you couldn't justify dancing while looking over legal documents.

But yeah, surprisingly this does make a better argument for why Dracula might be the real good guy better then Coppola's did. Maybe because the light dialogue leaves a lot more open, but it can be argued what's done with Mina and Lucy is either more consensual or more due to the normal men's biased outlook. They only think their nightmares are over by the end. But history can show it has only begun. Once you've had a taste of Chinese ballet dancing Dracula, you can't really go back.

Body Bags (1993) This theming on this one's a bit weird. Stories one and three are about serial killers, and two and three are about surgical implants gone wrong. You would think that if these themes weren't there, or one was present in all three (besides of course, at least one person has to die to fit the framing device). I mean, at least the nature of the horror is a bit different each one. First one's a slasher, second one is sci-fi with aliens it turns out, and the third is supernatural in the form of possession. But, from what heard is right, these segments really were the only one's from this rejected TV show that worked. the framing device is fun, even though it's surreal to see John Carpenter on screen for once. as for the stories themselves;

The Gas Station these places are scary enough to be at for long amount of times even without the crazed killer. I relate too much to that whole bit with the keys. Last note is slasher settings usually are one of two types; either the character is invading area the slasher is more familiar with or vice versa. Kudos to this one for making us think it's the second one while it's more of the former. Also, yay Sam Raimi cameo!

Hair Easily the least effective, but it at least makes me feel better about losing my own hair. Though that jazz music is really out of place. Just does not work.

Eye I think I saw this remade in the second V/H/S movie. But at least why it's scary is a bit different each time. Also, the inciting incident makes me like to pretend it's Dr. Strange's origin gone even more horribly wrong. I get why it's making him see visions of the dead killer's life, but does it possess by infecting his bloodstream or something? I feel bad for his wife and I also feel bad he ever got to play one last time when he felt like he had hope again. I guess they didn't have enough money to film at an actual baseball stadium.

The Blackcoat's Daughter The slowest burn of a horror movie I think I've ever seen since the Invitation. I didn't have any clue as to what the threat was until she called that nun the c-word. That kinda gave away the whole game, especially funny considering what I rewatched a few days later, as you can see. But yeah, once you see exactly where it's been leading up to, it sticks with you. The second part does too. Like the darkest possible Exorcist sequel you could've gotten without including a demon. Just goes to show rehabilitation and therapy are just as, if not more, crucial to get right as the actual saving.

Night of the Living Dead 1990 I haven't seen the original in about 14 years, so I can't do much to compare the two. Most of what it does different is cool, especially where the first zombie comes from. Other parts were making them more consistent with established zombie lore, but I'll still miss that trowel kill. There's still not as many zombies as most films that came after this one, but these are actually some of the scariest looking zombies I've seen in a while. I would've liked if just a little bit more of it was set at night, though.

How it changes the characters is a bit of a mixed bag. Yes, it's cool to Barbara a lot more competent. And I even liked how her arc to be tougher and less of a "helpless woman" has just led her to a world filled with toxic masculinity. That bit actually aged well. Less so what happened to Ben, though that's not Tony Todd's fault. Mostly how they changed his death. Sure, it meant they shifted his original death to Cooper who deserves it more, but sadly the original still resonates more in our world.

So yeah, an effective update of the story for the 80s/90s. But not too much for now.

The Exorcist I'm still on the fence over whether I'm going to see the new one. Luckily, this anniversary screening can tide me over.

Watching this now, I think a big reason why it's easy to consider this the greatest horror movie of all time (not the scariest movie of all time. That's different), is that most of it's scenes feel like a film rather than a movie. That might seem like a weird distinction, but it's the best to describe it. Friedkin pretty much directed every Regan-less scene so realistically and down to earth, more so then even in the most mature and sophisticated horror films made today. I know that sounds like an insult, but it's because those films go heavy on the atmosphere. Here there is none for the most part. Only character.

Of course, that changes with Pazuzu itself. I get the feeling most films, back and then or today, horror or otherwise, would either make it more ambiguous or more arthouse. This kind of performance you expect to see in more campy horror movies that aim for the cheap seats, but it's here in a movie with very down to earth 1970s filmmaking. Sure, it's laughed at now because we're all familiar at it or we're just in shock. (Or there are actually a lot of non-possessed kids who act like this), but I think that juxtaposition is why it's still leaves as big as an impact as it does.

You do it all subdued, people just look at the film as art. You do it like cheap shockfest, no one but the established horror fans will pay attention to it. But here, the world actually feels normal, and Pazuzu is made as urgent a threat as humanly possible to it. Hell, you can argue Linda Blair's, and Mercedes McCambridge performances being cranked up to 11 compared to everyone else works so well, because it's literally a different species pretty much.

Sure, a lot of horror is about the nasty surprises the world turned out to have had all along. But the first part of that is a clear idea of what we thought the real world is before it's upended like this. A lot of horror movies play like we feel like we're observing theses events from outside. That can be played with brilliantly, but I do feel the best one's are the ones who place as close to the level the characters are when experiencing. The Exorcist is one of the best films to have done that, so that's why I think it has landed as so many lists of the best Horror films of all time.

I leave what it says about faith, demons, and the belief in god to those more knowledgable in such subjects then I am.

Crimes of the Future Not really a horror movie, at least not to the extent The Fly, VideoDrome, or even the Dead Zone is. But it's definitely a Cronenberg movie.

I missed the bioengineered technology, even though no company today would make such things. But outside of that, I was expecting more of this to make me feel sick or at least wince. But most of the gross stuff is biopsies or body piercings taken to the next level. Not exactly Jeff Goldblum losing body parts one at a time, but considering what I think the point of this story is, I think it's intentional.

I relate so much to Saul at the start of this, considering I came down with some really bad acid reflux earlier this year. I'm not sure his solution is right for me, metaphorically speaking. But maybe I need to apply it to something else in me. Cronenberg for so long made films about the worse things that can happen to the human body. Maybe the reason he took a break from that until now, is he got a lot of time and step back, think, reflect, and maybe made peace with a subject that is still very much considered his oeuvre. The moral of the story; learn to get comfortable in your own skin. Or accept what makes it different from what society tells you it should be. Learn to live and make peace, even if it means you won't fit in.

Extra point here; I think I understood why Disney timed it so the Ahsoka season finale came out in October. It's the episode where they're fighting space witches controlling ZOMBIE STORM TROOPERS! Rad!

Until next time...

#Body Bags 1993 #the blackcoat's daughter #Night of the Living Dead 1990 #the exorcist #crimes of the future #Dracula pages from a Virgin Diary

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divinegrey · 2 years

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ʙʟᴜᴇ ɪɴᴋ / ᴊɪɴx x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

to celebrate six hundred followers :)

prompt: @pinkroulette and @rosevela talked abt jinx's tattoos and how part of them are underneath her crop top, so i wrote this about it. jinx is an adult in this fic so don't come trying to bite my head off.

words: 2257

warnings: professional nudity, cursing, typical jinx hijinks

You send out your last customer with a smile after he coughs up a neat five hundred coins in payment. Now, don’t get it wrong, he’s only paying you that much because you just spent the past two hours finishing the detailing and shading on his arm piece.

You slide the pile of credits into a bag and lock it away. With an exhale, you begin your tedious clean-up process. It’s finally the end of a long day of work, and you have things to do before you can leave and walk back home to your modest apartment. Things including cleaning the chair, reorganizing the ink, cleaning out the machine…

Nobody ever said being a solo tattoo artist in the boundary between Zaun and Piltover was easy. There’s a lot of money in the business, but there’s also the constant risk of your head being shot off because a Zaunite doesn’t like their tattoo, or being sued because a Piltie doesn’t like their tattoo.

Both have nearly happened on several occasions. You’ve been more cautious since then. You go and lock the door to your shop and flip the sign on the window to closed before returning back to your original position.

You kneel behind your counter to clean up some bins you’ve been meaning to organize since you started throwing random shit in them a few weeks ago. You hate messes— it’s one of your biggest pet peeves when you see clutter, so having these junk bins has really gotten on your nerves.

“The fuck even is this?” you mutter to yourself. “Trash. Trash. More trash. God, where the fuck did I get this stuff?”

With a huff, you start tossing some things into the trash bin, completely unaware of your surroundings until you hear heavy boots and nails tapping on glass.

Didn’t I lock the door?

Maybe you didn’t lock it all the way. You straighten up, saying, “Sorry, we’re closed right now, the sign on the door said—”

You stop when you take in the woman in front of you. Powder blue hair, shining blue eyes, a grin that looks crazed and manic.

“Jinx,” you say, putting your hands on the glass counter. “You saw the sign on the door, didn’t you?”

Let’s get something straight; you’ve run into Jinx before. Frankly, you’ve known her for a while, if you can count her coming in every now and then to snoop on your stuff when you aren’t looking. You don’t remember why she ever came in the first place, but now you’ve just gotten used to her appearing whenever she pleases.

She’s a frankly comforting presence, despite what people say about her.

“Came through the vents, cutie,” Jinx says brazenly. She twists herself to sit on the counter then spins her legs to face you. She glances past you. “Looks like an empty place. Got a spot open for a tat?”

“I’m closed,” you reply.

Jinx leans closer. “I’ll pay double your rate if you do it right now.”

You cross your arms, drawling, “I’m interested. How big?”

Jinx moves her finger over her right arm, up her shoulder, over her chest, then down to her hip. She tosses you a wink. “Plus some on the back too.”

“You’ll have to cough up a lot of money if you’re paying double. This’ll be more than one session if you want it to look good,” you explain, wondering how Jinx will pay for something that’ll cost her thousands of dollars and give you rent for your shop for three months alone.

Meanwhile, Jinx just swings her legs back and forth, taking you in with a gaze that could be considered flirtatious. You just brush it off because A) she might shoot you if you don’t comply with her demands (happens often) and B) you’re a professional.

“Silco’s money, ain’t it?” Jinx retorts.

You sigh. “Fair enough. Get on the chair. Tell me what you want then pay up.”

Jinx hops down from the counter and walks past you, dragging the tip of her nail on the front of your clothes. It causes a sharp inhale from your chest; this is common behavior for her. Part of her coming around to your shop to bother you included her making flirty remarks. That is… if comments about how hot you’d look choking someone with the wire of a tattoo gun can count as a flirty remark.

Jinx lays down on the chair, moving her long braids out of the way. She starts chattering about the tattoo she wants and you take it in, absorbing the information and suggesting critiques while waiting for your coffee to brew in the backroom. You’re going to need some energy to get through this. While you’re at it, you get yourself and her a snack— the last thing you need is for Jinx to pass out while you’re tattooing her.

You get the gist of what she wants, and you begin. Large clouds on her forearms that wrap around in a wind pattern to her shoulder. Jinx, to her credit, takes it like a champ. Barely any complaints from her, though you suspect she has a high pain tolerance if the scars littered about her body are any sort of indication.

You stick to doing the linework, establishing where the tattoos are. You can fill them in when she comes back at a later time. When you check the time, you notice that three hours have passed of you and Jinx talking while you do her tattoo. Huh. It’s not common for you to feel like no time has passed at all while you’re working. Jinx is different like that.

“Alright, we can do your chest part now, or we can do it last since I still have to do your stomach and your hip,” you say, wiping her collarbone clean of any ink. Much to your surprise, Jinx just sits up and reaches behind her, unsnapping the band of her crop-top (bra?) and pulling it off.

You look straight up to the ceiling.

“Hey, I’m not shy, if that’s what you’re insinuating,” Jinx says, lowering herself back down to the table.

“Just— would’ve appreciated a warning. Do you want nipple stickers?”

You’re a professional!

“Nah, I don’t need ‘em if you don’t need ‘em. Sounds like they’d get in the way,” Jinx says. You put down your tattoo gun and peel off your gloves to make sure the blinds are closed. You feel Jinx’s eyes on you the entire time. You turn down the main lights a tad (the brightness hurts your eyes this late), prompting Jinx to comment, “Setting the mood, cutie?”

“If we’re going to be here all night, might as well,” you say. You make sure to wash your hands before pulling on a fresh pair of gloves. You take a seat on your stool and grab your tattoo gun. “You trust me to freehand this?”

“I’ve been coming to your shop for a while, I trust ya with anything,” Jinx says. You make a humming noise, gently raising her arm to get a better angle while yes, staring at her breasts. No, you won’t think about the color of her skin or her nipples. You’re a professional.

You start working.

“Enjoying the view?”

Damn it.

“I would if you would stop moving around so much,” you reply. “Am I going to have to strap you to the chair?”

“Got a safeword for that, cutie?” Jinx’s reply is immediate and frankly, you should’ve seen that coming from Jinx. With no verbal reply available at the tip of your tongue, you just huff to yourself. Keep moving. You’re going to get paid a shit ton for this.

You gauge Jinx’s reactions as you move the needle over her skin. You know fully well how sensitive this area can get, especially when it gets closer to the bonier, less fleshy bits near the ribs. Shit, when you were getting tattooed in this area, even you had to take breaks, and you’d like to think your tolerance to tattoo needles is higher than most.

Jinx’s brows pinch together, the first little noise of discontent slipping out of her mouth when you press the tattoo gun onto the side of her breast where the bone is more prevalent than fatty tissue.

“Take a deep breath,” you murmur softly. Jinx inhales, her rib cage expanding, then exhales. You don’t know what possesses you to say the next thing out of your mouth; “Good girl. Good, keep doing that.”

Jinx’s entire body shakes at that, and you’re thankful you pulled your tattoo gun back in anticipation. She takes another breath and you get back to work. You won’t admit that you listen keenly to the sound of her breathing. The linework is intricate, you have to take care to keep the pattern moving in the same motion as wind would take through the air. It’s a rhythm.

“Fuck,” Jinx whispers when you put your fingers on the side of her breast to get a better angle on her ribs. It gives you pause.

“Are you okay? Need to stop?” You pull the tattoo gun away. “We’ve been doing this for a while, we can stop. I’ve done a lot today.”

We could easily finish this in another session, maybe two depending on how long we take, you think to yourself, not realizing that Jinx is breathing fairly heavily until you take her in fully, laying down on the leather chair with her arm resting on your shoulder because you put it there to get better access. Her fingers are playing with the hairs on your neck, you notice. The feel of her nails on your skin is just barely noticeable.

“Jinx?”

“Fine, cutie, ‘m fine, just…” Jinx turns to look at you, an obvious flush on her face. “Bit off more than I can chew, I think.”

“This is your first tattoo, isn’t it?” You say, more of a statement rather than a question.

“Yup.”

“Makes sense,” you say, turning off the ink machine and putting the tattoo gun down. You get some soap. “We’ll finish this in a week, how about that? Come back at—” you quickly glance at your schedule for next week. “Three in the afternoon. I’ll book you out for the rest of the day.”

When you turn back, Jinx is sitting up. You’re eye-level with her now and your throat goes dry. She’s staring at the lines on her arm with a little bit of awe and wonder.

“You like them so far?” You ask.

“They look fuckin’ fantastic,” Jinx says, a chipper grin coming onto her face. In addition, she looks tired— anyone would be after having needles jabbed into their skin for four hours straight. You give her a polite smile before wiping down her arm and shoulder with antibacterial soap, then wrapping it in cling foil to protect it from the elements (especially the chemical fumes in Zaun). When it comes to cleaning her chest, you have to steel yourself for any witty remarks she might make but… none come.

What a surprise.

“Definitely can’t wear the crop top you came in, the fabric will aggravate your tattoo too much,” you say. “Did you bring anything loose? A shirt?” Jinx shakes her head and frankly, you’re not about to let her go walk shirtless back to wherever dwelling she lives in. With a grunt, you reach over your head and pull off the garment you’d been wearing. There are ink stains on the sleeves, and when you help put it on Jinx, it’s practically half her size alone. It’ll work. You say, “There. Just bring that back next time, it’s one of my favorites.”

“I’ll take good care of it, cutie,” Jinx says with a wink, standing up from the chair. You do the same, anticipating the wooziness before she does. Gently, you catch her by the ink-free arm.

“Careful.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Jinx says, batting you away. “Now, how much of a dent am I putting in Silco’s pocket?”

“Deposit is a thousand. Plus a thousand more for today’s work.”

“Sheesh.”

“I run a tight ship, Jinx, we made a deal,” you say. To her credit, Jinx does give you the money, and lord, you’re going to be set for a while because of this. You’ve just about finished putting it away when you stand up and Jinx is still there. “Somethin’ you need?”

“I forgot the last part of the payment.”

“You didn’t—”

Your words are cut off when Jinx grabs you by your neck (probably because of the whole missing shirt thing) and brings your lips down onto hers. The first thing you notice is the taste of candy and sugar, the sweetness on her lips addicting to a level that you hadn’t expected. Holy shit, you’re kissing Jinx. When Jinx finally lets go, your mouth is slick and you can taste her on your tongue and in the back of your throat.

“Aw, you look cute, all shocked and surprised. See you next week, cutie!” Jinx pats your cheek before walking out of your shop.

It leaves you alone, recovering from the shock, and wondering how the hell did I get here? You turn to try and find Jinx, but she’s long gone before you have any words to say other than—

“Holy fuck,” you say.

A smile comes to your face without even realizing it. You’re exhausted, and you still have to clean up, but shit, you’re excited for next week.

~~~~~

A/N: this was pretty fun to write!!! i tried to do my best while also keeping it mostly sfw. tattoo artists gotta stay professional ya know?

#jinx x reader #jinx x fem reader #arcane jinx x reader #arcane jinx #jinx #arcane netflix #arcane #arcane imagines #arcane jinx imagines

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plush-rabbit · 3 years

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Aphrodisiac Induced Reader + The Dateables

A/N: I had this thought and i really had to get it out of my head (it was org gonna be just simeon cause,,, i love repressed feelings so much but then i gave it to the rest!!) (all consensual btw!!)

Separated because it was gonna be too long with all of them, the brothers should come out soon

A/N: I had this thought and i really had to get it out of my head (it was org gonna be just simeon cause,,, i love repressed feelings so much but then i gave it to the rest!!)

You really should have known better than to take food that was offered by Beel. You know that he has the right intentions in mind- that him sharing food is a miracle of itself and rejecting him would have his brows furrowed and lips pursed into a pout- but he’s also gluttony. He can eat whatever he wants and as much as he wants without so much of a stomach ache. You, on the other hand, cannot. You should have seen this coming when the cupcake you bite into filled your mouth with such an indescribable sweetness that it made your teeth ache, the flavor otherworldly and leaving you hungry for me, taking greedy bites out of the cutely decorated pastry. There was a sharp pang in your stomach, your body on fire and sex dripping with every nudge that your body made.

You couldn’t be alone right now- or maybe you should have been left alone, maybe that would have saved you from humiliation of your dripping arousal that was leaking past your slit. You’re quick to rise, standing on shaky legs, curled over as your cheeks burn, sweat beading against your skin, only worsening the sensitive state that you are in. It’s fast-acting, making your breaths come out in heated gasps, and everything just feels a bit too much, just too good for it to be normal. An aphrodisiac- a strong one that is making you impossibly aroused. You suck in a sharp breath and go to the person who you know will treat you right.

Barbatos:

Barbatos is simply surprised that you chose to go to him in such a needful state. But soon, he realizes how… stressful it is to have you around. Lord Diavolo was kind enough to give him the day off, stating that he’ll be spending it with Lucifer before closing the door with quite an obvious wink. But now, you follow him around, holding his hand, begging for him to do something- to turn back the clock just a few minutes before you had that pastry. You even promised that you wouldn’t get caught but he remains steadfast in his decision, not wanting to risk another repeat of the last mistake.

There is little that can surprise the butler, but when you push yourself against him, grabbing his hand and placing it flat on your belly, his fingertips above the waistband of your shorts, he can feel his face grow hot. He sputters out for a second before regains his composure, simply pulling his hand away and commenting that he’ll make you something to dim the fire that is your body. But you don’t quit, you push yourself against him, begging for him to help you now, that you’re too hot, that your clothes are melting your skin and your flush against him.

He only has so much willpower when it comes to you. And here you are, pressed against him, begging for him to take care of you, grabbing his hand and placing his index and middle finger in your mouth. He visibly stiffens, and when your mouth closes you hollow your cheeks, the soft, slick insides pressed against his fingers. There’s a crackle of energy around and soon you're gagging on his finger, the manicured nails turning into claws, filling your mouth exponentially, spit sliding between the corners and your eyes pricking with tears.

You are much too needy to stand still, to even rest against him is something that you find difficulty in without resulting in your humping his leg. You beg him, twist your hand in his and remove his glove, holding it tight in your hand and begging for him to touch you- to make the pain between your legs go away and feel good. As quick as a blink of an eye, you’re against the wall, his fingers deep into your mouth, his smile softening for a second. He leans close to your ear, his other hand working on clothes on your back, stripping you with every gagging sound made when he pushes a bit further. His tone is almost dangerous as he tells you that you asked for him to take care of you and that is simply what he’s about to do. He pulls away, his smile still as he leans close to you, his lips ghosting over his knuckles, asking if this is really what you want and if you give him a moment, he’s sure he can make you a tea that can stop your arousal. But when you gag around him, your brows knitting together, looking absolutely like a piece of art with his fingers in your mouth and eyes full of tears, he simply nods.

His mouth is on yours, and he can taste the lingering effects of the aphrodisiac on you- the sweetness, the almost bitter taste that lingers behind, the totality of it all making him feel as if he’s going to go into a craze. You poor thing, no wonder you’ve been so needy. Barbatos holds you up, letting you rut against him, feeling your sex pulse and with a simple slip of his hand, your creaming against yourself and against him, clinging tight to him, calling his name out in such a lewd moan that it pushes away all rational thought and simply release his cock, pearls beading from the slit and you look upon him with doe eyes, kissing him once more as his tail wraps around your torso, the forked end of it teasing at your nipples.

Diavolo:

The Lord of Devildom has always been kind to you, understanding and accommodating to you even when he has always seemed so busy. It would make sense that you would go to Lord Diavolo, who welcomes you with open arms, a gentle hand on your back that makes your knees buckle. He realizes his mistake- his eyes narrowing as he sees your flushed state and it’s a wonder that you’ve even made it to him without a trail of succubi and incubi at your tail. He can smell your heat from miles away. It’s intoxicating, hanging heavy in the air and as sweet as candy itself.

He lays you on the bed and he regrets it all in that very moment. He sees how small you are in his bed, the way that your body curves and how your hands try to find something to grip onto. He has enough restraint to pull himself away from you, taking a step back only to realize that your scent is filling the room, creeping at every crevice and corner, latching onto his clothing. Your hips thrust against the bed and he bites the inside of his cheeks- something bitter and hot filling his mouth. You call his name and he has to remain strong no matter how sweet the sound of it is.

The bed is soundless as he sits beside you and your hands latch onto his jacket, pulling him close to you. He makes a noise of surprise but allows it, watching as you lay yourself on his lap, your back arched over his lap and eyes so hazy and lust-filled that he forgets for a second to avoid touching you. His hand curves and pets the top of your head, smiling when you push yourself against his touch but then you rise and he’s forgotten that you are desperate for the very thing he’s willing to give to you.

You’ve laid him down, sitting above his abdomen, your hand on his chest, as your lower yourself to look him in the eyes. Your fingers squish beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling the soft tissue of the breast and he has to admit that it feels divine. Your breath is a phantom above his lips and his hands move to grab your hips. He should pull away, but he finds that his hands are stuck to you, unable to budge from where they rest. He shouldn't be kissing you, he shouldn’t be ignoring the way that your hips are rotating above his, how you’re whining and mewling at the very action of kissing him. But he does, and he lets you kiss him, lets you weave your hands through his hair and push yourself closer against him until you have to pull away, gasping for breath.

Diavolo has to be careful with you- he treats you like you are made of porcelain, because to him, you are. You are a human, weak and gentle, loving and giving, and he is a demon, a king. He holds you with tender hands, letting his lips burn themselves against your skin, until you’re crying his name, begging for him to just touch you. He’s unable to refuse you, kissing your lips and letting his hand wander to your sex, where with just a simple touch, you release against his hand. He pulls his hand away, kissing your tears and raising his head to glance as his hand that is now coated in thick, shimmering arousal. With a promise to take care of you, he kisses your lips and lets his hand play with your sensitive sex.

Simeon:

Possibly one of the best choices to turn to, Simeon is actually quite happy to know that you chose to spend your sensitive state with him- that you trusted him the most. He’s trying to make it as lovely as possible- as least without actually attending to your needs. He won’t try anything- not that he technically could. But he misjudged the situation. He’s heard of people taking aphrodisiacs but the ones he heard of were made by and for people, not by and for demons. And now as he stares at you, trying so desperately to not slide your hand beneath the waistband of your underwear, he realizes he might have been over his head just a tad bit.

You rest on your knees, your face hidden against the comforter of his bed, lower half raised and legs pinched. Pained whimpers come out muffled, your hands clawing at the comforter, knotting and twisting the fabric in your hands. He can actually see the darkening color of your shorts peek from your crotch. His body suddenly feels hot- whether it’s arousal or embarrassment, he’s not actually sure but he wishes that it were because of the latter.

He turns his gaze away from you, clearing his throat and at that moment he knows he made a mistake. You call his name in a breathy tone that is absolutely sinful. Your arm stretches out, fingers trying to grab at the leg of his white pants. He smiles gently at you, his stomach churning when he catches your gaze- lustful and mouth already open in small moans. He can’t touch you. You know that. He knows that. But you’re in pain and even in your aroused state, you beg for him, you call out and promise that whatever he does, it’s out of good intentions. It’s a lie, of course, but he can hear you slick click against your dripping sex with just the softest of movement. Whatever he does- he can lie that he’s doing it to help you, but he’ll know the truth.

He’s unaware of how and exactly what happened. All he knows is that you’re above him, holding yourself tight to him as your face is hidden in the soft curve of his neck, and he can feel exactly just how hot your body is. Your hips are moving above his, the fabric of his clothes creating a wonderful friction that only makes your pitiful humping quicker and sloppier. You breathe against his neck and he has to dig his hands into the comforter of the mattress to prevent himself from falling to sin. Your sex is bare above him, your body curling tighter onto him, as he can feel an orgasm shake throughout your body.

Simeon whispers a prayer under his breath, closing his eyes and muttering an “Amen” as his arms wrap around your body. You jerk against him, acting as if the simple embrace from him is orgasmic, your thrusts quicker than before, calling his name, repeating it as if it were the only thing on your mind and at this point, he’s sure that it is. He promises to you in a whisper that he won’t go farther than what he’s about to do, pressing a kiss against your head and letting his eyes close. His hips meet yours in a thrust, clothed sex against wet, bare sex, and you moan his name and he can feel tears that burn slide down his neck, your words repeating for him to not stop.

Solomon:

It’s difficult for the sorcerer. He couldn’t even get up from the position if he tried. You're on his lap, legs and arms wrapping around him, and you may think you’re being discreet with your humping disguised as itchiness, Solomon knows better. He’s trying his best to find a spell, to find anything that can cure you of your current ailment. But he’s coming up flat. You’re needy, pinching your leg together and pulling away from where your chin rested on his shoulder to look him in the eye. Your face is flushed, your hair disheveled and for the first time since you’ve entered his room, you’ve stopped your humping.

He’s always had an attraction to you- it went further than just finding you pretty, it passed the need for human contact when you both arrived, it was just him wanting to bask in your warmth, to have you fret over him like he was simply just another person and not a sorcerer who happens to be able to command seventy-two demons. And now, he has you where he has dreamed of countless times, imagined behind closed doors and hand fisted over his cock. He has you with a leaking sex, eyes that are on him and no possible interruptions. His mouth is dry and he is unable to think properly. His hands fall and the book he was keeping afloat falls with a thud to the floor.

The way you call his name, a breathy broken moan when you test your hips against his, your body shuddering and he realizes with disappointment that you had orgasmed already while above him. He had missed it. He bows his head, brows knitted and he can’t think clearly when you’re rutting against him, mumbling apologies beside him, your breath a gentle whisper and then in the same breath you kiss his neck, begging for him to touch you. And as much as he wants to, he can’t. He knows the state you’re in, your mind hazy and thick with everything related to sex, and you aren’t thinking clearly, you’re just thinking of having your sex toyed with. It’s a horrible feeling he’s stuck in.

It doesn’t take much to make him crack. You pull away, when he’s still for far too long, silent even as focused as he was, you could hear the muted moans that he refused to sound out loud. But he's silent now, and when you pull away, he looks crestfallen. You hold his face his your hands, your sex pressed against his, and you can feel his cock poking at the inside of your thigh. You try your chances against, leaning close to him, your mouth on his as you beg for him to touch you, your promises of you wanting this so serious in your voice that makes him willing to kiss your lips, his tongue slipping past and the sound that you make is perverse, loud and running your hands against his body.

Solomon looks at you through heavy lidded eyes, feeling your body rise and fall, your lips on him and his hands are moving, leaving your body burning with just the palm of his hand. Thin, calloused fingers sneak under your shirt and rub against your sensitive nipples, your mouth breaking from him, and your tongue peeks out, swiping at your lips to capture the feeling of his against your one more time. But you’re in pain, more than he is, and he’s pushing you against the bed, kissing your body, hearing you call his name with such want that it makes his cock ache. And then he’s staring at your sex, leaking and throbbing, and his mouth is on you, groaning when your hands knit in his hair and his tongue is swirling around your sex.

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themrsackerman · 3 years

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Angel of Paradis

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

Warnings: Spoilers from Season 4. Mentions of gun violence, blood, death

A/N: Now I know EP8 is only the beginning of the end but goddamn it hurts!! I love potato girl and losing her just tore me to bits. So here, take this. Its my way of coping I guess..

Levi is pissed off. From the start, he disliked the plan but it wasn't like Eren gave you all much of a choice. So the moment the kid got on the airship, he was welcomed with one of the captain's infamous kicks. The cockpit wall quakes with the impact and Hange sighs, shooting you a look. "I think you need to get out there and make sure Levi doesn't kill Eren, Y/n." She says exasperatedly and you nod, rising from your seat next to Onyankopon.

"I'll be right back." You say and she flashes you a knowing grin, shaking her head slightly. Even the commander knows you're the only one who could reign in the Levi Ackerman.

You see Levi on the corner glaring at Eren as he was being tied up. You sigh heavily, seeing Eren steaming as he heals. Jaw probably unhinged from the captain's kick. You sat beside him on the bench and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping his face clean from dirt and blood.

"Y/n-san." He greets you monotonously and you gave him a kind smile. "Hey, kid." You greet back, tucking loose strands of his now long hair behind his ear.

Your heart aches at the sight. He used to have so much fire, had the same will to fight for humanity that you only ever saw in your mentor, Erwin. Now all you see is ember of pure hatred and cold blooded need for revenge. "I'm glad you're okay." You murmur. Eren's blank stare softens for a second and a small smile hints the corner of his mouth. "Glad to see you too, Lieutenant." He says quietly and out of the corner of your eyes, you see Levi roll his eyes and make a disgruntled sound as he turns around.

You walk up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Levi meets your gaze with his dull gray ones for a second and sighs, his expression softening too. At this you smile a little and say, "We still have a long battle to fight ahead of us, Captain. Things might not have gone smoothly, but we won today." You remind him and as if proving your point, right on the other side of the ship you hear the soldiers celebrate as they reunite.

"You're right." He agrees. Levi then takes a deep breath and grabs the hand you placed on his shoulder so he can bring it to his face. He turns his head and placed a chaste kiss on your palm. Your heart flutters at the gesture. It isn't grand but was still something you couldn't quite get used to. You two never declared your love for one another, never really had the luxury of time or chance to do so, but small acts like this was enough to let you know that your presence provided him the calm he sorely needs. And that was all you want. Be his peace in this war.

"I'm going to check if the rest of the squad made it back up." You tell him, grazing your thumb on his lower lip and he reluctantly lets you go. "Be back as soon as you can. Meeting will start as soon as this fucking monkey heals enough." He says, cold glare flashing at the other Jaeger who is a pile of steam still laying on the ground. "Okay, I'll just check on Lima's squad. They're the last ones to be picked up supposedly." Levi nods again and watches you leave before turning to talk to Yelena.

You smile past Floch and the other soldiers who are weeping, hugging and making their tributes for those whom had fallen in battle. You then saw three of the soldiers you've grown close with through the years. They were huddled in the corner, sharing a hug.

You hear Jean say in protest, "Dont hug people with that lump ass iron gear on.", while shrugging off Connie's arm. You chuckle at this and tackled him back to the embrace. "Shut the hell up, Jean. I would take Connie's armored hugs any day!" To which the trio whines out, " Lieutenant Y/l/n!!" when you squished them tight.

Although the new gear designed by Hange was in deed not made for hugging, you four relaxed in the uncomfortable embrace. Grounded by the fact that you all made it safe despite the battle you had just gone through. Connie and Sasha smile up at you while Jean tries to still look annoyed, although the softness in his eyes says otherwise.

The soldiers left below start coming in and the cheering just grows even louder. You didn't have the heart to stop them because you yourself are quite happy that today was a success despite some casualties. Now, you have the War Hammer titan as well and were able to destroy the fleet. Now, the Eldians' chance stands higher against this damn war.

"Did you hear that just now?"

Sasha asks out of the blue and you turn to her in wonder. Honestly you couldn't hear anything but the soldiers celebrating. But out of the lot of you, you know Sasha's sense of hearing is far superior than all of you combined. So you take a step back from the crowd and actually looked around.

"Hey, quiet down!!"Jean yells over the chanting but Floch shouts, "Make some noise! Victory!!!" And was echoed by the rest as they embraced and pumped their fists in the air.

"Hey!" Jean tries again only to be pulled by Connie to the side to ask, "Isn't Lobov-san still out there?"

"No, I think he came aboard." Jean says thoughtfully and this was when something didn't sit quite right with you. Commander Lobov is a man that is hard to miss. And with his dedication to this mission to make up for his years being a useless garrison, he would be amongst the soldiers cheering the loudest for the said victory.

Your instincts has never failed you before and its the very reason why you are so good at your job and able to survive this long. But sometimes, you wish that your instincts aren't always right because you always perceive danger. And right now, every fiber of your being is telling you something is fucking wrong.

That if you were to look out the airship right now, you'll probably see the commander lifeless.

Or worse, an enemy may have made its way up to the ship.

Your blood runs cold for a split second before you acted purely out of instinct. You shove Sasha to the side, dreading as you head for the airship's side door and at the exact moment.. someone aboards.

Your gaze met the kid's muddy brown ones. It was determined, filled with fury and you saw that there isn't any trace of hesitation as her finger pulls the trigger. You knew you didn't stand a chance judging by look on her face and her sure aim on your torso. The word of warning you want to let out was caught in your throat as she fires.

You remember seeing those crazed brown eyes and then the ceiling of the airship the next. The sensation of what can only be compared to fire piercing your skin spreads through your chest and insides like molten metal. You hear the indistinct noise of the soldiers' voices grow louder yet muffled at the same time around you.

From happy cheers to manic, hysterical screaming.

You couldn't catch your breath at first and you aren't sure from which. Was it from falling flat on your back? Or was it the searing pain that made tears leak from your eyes?

And then above the chaos, you hear your three closest comrades call your name in unison.

"Lieutenant Y/n, hey!!!" Connie's frantic voice shrill through the limited space of the ship. "Hang in there, hey!" You feel him rattle you, placing his rough calloused hand against your cheek. Jean's panic stricken face comes to your field of vision and you whimper, "A kid." You gasp. "In the airship."

"Bandages! Now! We need to stop the bleeding!" Jean commands shakily and the rest of the soldiers that aren't capturing the two intruders scramble to get the med kit and the captain.

"Y/n-san, please hold on until we make it to the island!!" Connie pleads but hopelessness crawls his veins as he sees your blood flood the wooden floors.

"Keep him safe." You whisper out to nobody. The captain in mind. Your eye lids grow heavy but you didn't want to close them. No. You can't die. You promised him.

"Don't you dare die on me, Y/l/n." His voice echoes in your mind, compelling you to keep breathing despite how excruciating it feels.

Sasha who was frozen at first, snapped out of her shock as she hears Connie's voice call your name out of sheer panic when your eyes fall close. She then runs to meet the soldier carrying the bandages and was at your side in an instant. With trembling hands, Sasha tries with all her might to wrap you up and stop the bleeding.

"No, no, no, no!!" She starts sobbing while watching the bandage turn red, your gushing blood seeping through no matter how tight she puts the wrap around you. "Y/n-san, no, you can't leave us like this." Sasha hiccups, wiping her tears hastily before grabbing your now cold clammy hand and pressing it to her face. "Please!" She cries, eyes falling close.

If you hadn't pushed her, if you didn't step in her place, it would have been her that got shot. Guilt rakes through her as she watches you desperately fight for your life.

You can feel yourself drifting and you felt helpless. You then meet Sasha's, Jean's and then Connie's gaze, muttering with your remaining strength, "Protect him." And it was no request but an order.

Jean stumbles away, his hands going over his ears, unable to stand your labored breaths and Connie and Sasha's whimpering. Jean felt like hurling when Floch turned the kids to him. The other responsible for you being on the brink of death.

But to those two kids, they are the enemies who wreck havoc to their hometown. Floch wanted to kill them and throw them out but what good would that do? Would taking their lives save yours? And knowing you, who practically treat soldiers like them like your kids even though you were just a few years older than them, you would be disappointed in him at the mere thought of hurting these kids.

Jean can almost hear your angelic voice, "They're just children." You would say. So with a vexed expression and heavy turmoil growing within him, he ties them up and led them to where the captain and commander are.

Jean swallows hard when the captain's cold gaze met his and asks, "Who are these kids?"

By the looks of it, he still does not know.

"They killed Lobov-san and used his gear to come aboard." A lump forms in his throat, suddenly can no longer meet the captain's gaze. "A-and this one here, she.. shot Lieutenant Y/l/n."

Levi's eyes widen. Did he just hear Jean correctly? You? Shot? You were with him just minutes ago. No, how is that possible?-

"Captain, I-I don't think she'll make it." He continues, voice faltering. The grievance in Jean's face make Levi's blood run cold. He stumbles forward a bit as Armin and Mikasa run past him but he seemed frozen in his tracks.

No.

You got hurt but you'll pull through this. You always have. You promised him. And you are one of the toughest people he knows.

Levi tries to convince himself as he glared back at Zeke. He tries to distract himself from the cold fear of losing you with the blinding rage he feels for the Beast Titan wielder. But then, the door swings open again and Levi felt something terribly wrong right away.

And when Connie appears with tears sliding down his face and says,

"Y/n-san.. is dead."

Levi's entire world shifts.

Everyone was shellshocked for a moment. Because how could you be gone just like that? When you were just with them just minutes ago providing comfort to all of them? Passing by and giving them a wave of peace and calmness like the angel that you are.

Hange wobbles, her knees growing weak and its as if someone had punched her in the chest. The pain reminiscent as the day she watched Moblit vanish before her eyes. You were her right hand woman. Her confidant.

Eren's head hung in disbelief. His mind clouded by your kind smile just earlier and telling him you're actually glad to see him. Him. The monster who had just devastated a whole town and killed probably thousands of people. He thought that by now, he'd have gotten used to losing the people around him but losing you is gutting him. Its was like losing family. A sister.

"Connie.. did Y/n-san have any last words?" He asks mindlessly, wanting to know what your last thoughts were. Connie blinks through his tears and his eyes drifts to the captain, whose face was undreadable and knuckles threatening to split open at how tightly his balled fists are clenched.

"She said.. 'Protect him.'" Connie mutters and Levi's facade breaks.

The mob of weeping soldiers parted as the captain staggers to the back of the ship where you lay. Armin and Mikasa were still curled up beside you, their faces red and puffy from wailing. Both of them reluctantly stood up and stepped away as he walks closer. His gaze was still trained on the ground as he puts one foot in front of the other.

He shudders and stop midstep as his foot steps on the crimson stained wood. Before he knows it, he falls on his knees with a thud. Your pale hand comes into his field of vision and he takes a deep shakey breath as he reaches for it. His eyes darts everywhere but your face. The bandage on your middle, the boots on your feet that he had his fair share of shinning as his token of appreciation for you making his morning teas, the emblem of the Wings of Freedom embedded on your breast plate.

Your hand felt cold and stiff against his. A stark contast of the warmth it exuded on his cheek just moments ago.

"Y/n?" He croaks.

Suddenly his breathing shallows as the deafening silence stretches on. He can still smell you but can no longer feel you although you're right fucking there. Levi wanted this to some fucked up nightmare. But then, as he steels his nerves and finally looked at your face, his heart shatters.

Your hair is uncharacteristically dishevelled, e/c eyes lifeless, pupils middilated and your mouth parted ever so slightly.

Levi pulls you in his arms frantically, plethora of would have been and should have been anchoring his heart into a sea of regret.

He should have never let you out the damn door.

He should have held you tighter.

He should have you talked to you longer.

He should have told you.. he loves you.

He never even got to tell you.

Levi's face crumples, face reddening before a resentful yell erupts from him. The soldiers wince at the sound. It was pure agony and it pierces through each and everyone of them, bringing the lot of them back to tears if they ever stopped in the first place.

The entire flight back to Paradis, Levi held you the way he wished he did while you were still with him.

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elysiadjarin · 3 years

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Day 6: Hand Kink

Day 6 of Kinktober! Already almost a week in, huh… I figured I’d dip into the rich Japanese side of mythology this time. I hope this is an acceptable tribute… Find my Kinktober Masterlist here.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ content ONLY. Trigger warnings for violence mentioned including physical assault, some family abuse dynamics, implied sexual assault (does not actually happen), and mild descriptions of death. Also sexual content including soft dom themes, PinV unprotected sex, entirely consensual.

Tags: Beast Youkai x reader, fox spirit x reader, exophilia, terato

Small Sun Showers

“It’s such a small thing, really.”

You slid the bag you’d brought into the hollow of the old tree. Avoiding the ropes strung around, you carefully sat on the rock next to the tree.

“I brought you some sweet buns, this time, with poppy seeds,” you said, ignoring the comment that had come from the dark hollow. “Since you said you missed some of the herbs.”

The sound of crinkling came from the hole, followed by the sounds of munching. “Attentive to me, as always, sweet one,” the disembodied voice cooed, though a moment later burning orange eyes stared at you from the darkness.

You studiously avoided the gaze, looking down at the grass under your feet. A sliver of shadow from the abandoned warehouse nearby fell over you, giving you some shade from the warm sun. As always, you didn’t respond to the epithets. You never did.

“How is the temple doing?” The voice asked.

“It’s fine,” you answered, almost automatically. “The festival is coming up soon, so everyone is excited.”

“And yet you do not, hmm?” The eyes tilted, as though the head had cocked at her curiously.

Your eyes slid away, more towards the forest beyond the tree. Unconsciously, your fingers tugged at the long sleeves you wore, despite the warm weather.

“I’m a little nervous,” you admitted. “As a Shrine Maiden, I’m supposed to be doing the Miko Kagura. I’ve been practicing, but…”

“You wear long sleeves again.” A hint of suspicion crept into the voice.

Despite yourself, you flinched. “I— I’m just-“

A low growl issued from the tree. “A spirit has been harassing you again, hasn’t it. Why haven’t you called an exorcist? Or told your Father, the Priest?”

You turned your head away. “It’s been contracted by someone else,” you admitted, voice thin. “I… can’t tell Papa.”

A pause. “Because it was bought at a high price.” A sneer laced the voice. “Then how do you plan to get rid of it? You can’t hold it off forever yourself. And it’s already injured you, hasn’t it.”

You shook your head. “I’ll find out a way. I can’t bother anyone else with it.” Your eyes slid closed, the bruises mottled up your arm throbbing.

“Or you could create a contract with something far more powerful,” came the slick purr. “If you’d only break the talisman, I would make a contract with you, sweet one.” The sealed beast offered, for not the first time.

“You are a beast youkai,” you answered, voice steady. “It is against your nature to bind yourself to anyone, much less become the guardian spirit of a small temple.” You reminded both him and yourself.

“Unless we have reason. Even the mightiest of beasts might be swayed by beauty such as yours.”

A bitter smile twisted your lips as you turned your face away. You? As if. The beast youkai only even spoke to you because you gave it food and paid attention to it out of your own loneliness, not because it somehow cared about you. You couldn’t bring yourself to really believe that.

With a soft sigh, you plucked at your sleeves. “What do you want me to bring you next time?”

But the voice stayed quiet for a moment. When it spoke again, something in its voice had changed. “Do you truly not believe me? I do not lie when I say that I would bind myself to you. I would never let you be injured. I would protect you, like your family cannot. I would hold you close,” the voice said, a dreamy tone in its voice, “and I would shower you with everything you deserve.”

You fought the tears that welled in your eyes as you abruptly stood, grabbing your bag. “If you don’t have any requests, I’ll just bring anything,” you interrupted, struggling to make sure your voice didn’t waver.

A sigh, so soft that you wondered if it were only the wind. “A meat bun.”

You nodded, then headed back down the hillside towards home. Reaching up, you angrily smeared your tears from your cheeks, breath hitching on your sobs.

You could never allow yourself to believe the words of a youkai, much less a powerful and dangerous one like him. No matter how sweet his words, how genuine they sounded… Everyone always lied to you. He would be no exception.

You tried to ignore the little part of you that wondered if maybe, just maybe, dying at the hands of the youkai would be better than continuing the misery of your life.

“Fouuuund youuuu.” A yawning mouth sprang from the darkness, black eyes fixed with crazed bloodlust on your body.

You dropped to the floor, scrambling across the hardwood to slide towards the doorway. Leaping back up, you ran for your life. Your breaths came fast and shallow as you blindly ran, tripping through the dark halls of the temple. Behind you, you could hear cackling laughter as its talons scrabbled after you.

You reached out your hand, then burst though the main doors, stumbling across the stones out front. Looking up, you froze.

An entire group of men stood in front of you, all staring at you with leering, jeering faces. The one in the front, the one your brain automatically assumed was the leader, stepped forwards.

“Well, well. Would you look at that.” He grinned, his eyes sliding over your shoulder.

Something grabbed your arm, wrenching you back. You stifled a cry, sinking your teeth into your lip as claws brutally dug into the bruises already all up your arm. The spirit held you, its tight grip almost unbearable.

“I guess the boy must really hate his family, huh?” the man sneered, hands in his pockets as he stared at you down his nose. Reaching out with his foot, he kicked at you like some sort of trash. “To think that he’d offer his own younger sister in exchange for his debts.”

Your heart sank. Of course. Your brother who had gotten into debt with the yakuza. Of course he’d offer you: the only girl, the precious little shrine maiden.

Sadly enough, it didn’t even surprise you. But at least now you figured out why the spirit had haunted you in particular so insistently, and how much trouble you were in. Which, you snorted bitterly to yourself, was a lot. Probably at risk of your life, at best.

A wild thought flashed through your head, desperate but somehow… insistent. Your eyes briefly scanned the crowd of men. You were smaller than most of them, and probably in better shape at this point. If you managed to get a brief head start, you weren’t too far away— enough to maybe be able to get there just fast enough. But you’d have to immobilize the spirit first, at least temporarily.

Thickly, you swallowed, closing your eyes and breathing in deeply. You had enough. Just enough for one— Your other hand landed on the spirit’s as your eyes flew open. The spirit let out a piercing shriek, letting go of you as the searing spiritual energy burst through your palm. You didn’t hesitate.

Breaking into a dead sprint, you headed straight for the hill behind the temple. Behind you, you could hear the angry shouts of the men as they started after you. You pushed yourself, ignoring it, taking as many shortcuts as you could, heart pounding in your ears as you gasped for air. Your legs were starting to ache, and you could hear them gaining on you; but the warehouse was in sight.

Skidding around the corner, you ran straight for the tree. Your hand reached for the talisman.

When the yakuza men caught up to you, they found you kneeling at the base of the tree, a shattered seal at your feet.

Tears streaked down your cheeks as you whispered into the hollow. “Please… if you help me, just this once… I’ll give you myself in exchange,” you promised weakly.

“It’s too late now, little girl,” the boss sneered, starting to step towards you. “You’re coming with us.”

But before he could say anything more or another move was made, a dark mist began to swirl around the area. Shouts of confusion arose as the mist covered everything, too dark to see through, almost too dark to even move in safely. A low, grating laugh spilled from the darkness, just as you felt yourself being lifted up.

Startled, you gasped softly and clung to the solidity you could feel under your fingers. Lips parted, you stared at the familiar orange eyes that slowly materialized in front of you. A wide, fanged grin split the darkness underneath the eyes; and slowly, a body started to emerge from the swirling dark mist.

“Well hello there, my sweet one,” the familiar voice cooed. Long, pitch black hair tied in a low ponytail framed a pale face. The beast youkai, one that you now recognized as a Fox, held you effortlessly in one arm, pulling you close to his chest. He towered above the ground, dwarfing you in every way possible. His entire hand curled around almost your entire thigh.

You swallowed. “H-hello,” you whispered tremulously, not even sure what to think at this point.

“You released me,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on you. He leaned forward, and his nose brushed against your cheek as a soft purr rumbled through his chest, reverberating down into you.

Your fingers clenched in his robe, surprise flittering through you that he wasn’t… leaving. Or killing you.

“My brave darling,” the youkai fairly gushed, nosing against you. “Now I can finally fulfill my promise to you.”

“Promise?” you repeated dumbly, mind whirling. What-?

He chuckled. “I told you, didn’t I? That I would contract with you, if you set me free. Protect you, cherish you as you should be.”

He’d actually meant it? What?

“I…” You stared up at his orange eyes, fixed on you intensely. Your breath stuck in your throat as the familiar ache of longing overcame you. Reminded you of your stupidity, falling in love with the beast youkai that you thought would never even glance at you if he were free.

“Of course I’ll do anything for you,” he purred, his tongue flicking out to briefly lick away the tear-streak on your cheek. “As if I would deny you when you offer me the one thing I truly desire more than anything else.” He grinned, eyes sparking. “You.”

And then his fingers tilted your chin up, and your eyes squeezed shut as his lips landed on yours. The kiss was warm and soft, surprisingly so. You could feel your spiritual energy gravitating towards him, could feel it wrapping around him, infusing him, as he made a contract binding him to you and your spiritual energy. He reluctantly let go of your lips, the dizzying kiss making your head spin as you gasped for breath.

“My name is Kaz, sweet one,” he murmured, orange eyes half-lidded in simmering contentment.

Unthinkingly, you repeated the name. “Kaz…”

His eyes glowed. “Now then. Why don’t we start with these filth?”

In the next moment, the mist cleared to reveal that everyone now stood in the empty warehouse. Kaz still held you in his arm, keeping you close against his chest as he stared at the yakuza men starting to reorient themselves.

The boss cursed, glaring at you and Kaz. “Hand her over,” he spat, bristling. “She’s ours.”

But Kaz only laughed, his teeth baring as feral glee glittered in his eyes. “Give you my precious shrine maiden?” he cackled. “Didn’t you ever consider the fact that she is in fact a shrine maiden at a temple, with her own powerful spiritual energy? Enough to make a contract with a powerful beast like me?” He licked his lips. “And your blood… smells wonderful.”

Some of the men started to look wary, clearly leery about the sheer size of Kaz, especially in comparison with you.

Kaz tilted his head toward you, just as he flicked his fingers. A soft sort of puffy cloud materialized beside him, and he gently set you on it. “Stay here while I get rid of these nuisances,” he said gently, his fingers brushing across your cheek. “I’ll be right back, I promise.” With one last sickeningly sweet smile, he turned towards the men. A sword materialized in his hand, practically the size of your entire body.

You looked away, bile rising in your throat. The blood drained from your face as you heard the men screaming, the sound of the carnage making you reach up to clap your hands over your ears. Though you were sure the men were far from innocent or deserving of mercy, the brutality of their deaths was undeniable. A high-pitched, inhuman shriek indicated that the spirit they’d contracted had also been shredded by Kaz.

It made you wonder. How powerful was Kaz, exactly-?

After another moment, you felt Kaz lift you up again in his arm. Eyes flying open, you grasped at his shoulders as he pulled you close against himself again. His other blood-spattered hand still held his sword, but his eyes were adoringly fixed on you.

Reaching up, you absently wiped away a tiny drop of blood off of his jaw. “Thank you,” you whispered. Despite yourself… you felt safe.

His eyes visibly lit up, and his grin widened as he gazed up at you. “Ah, my darling praises me!” You could swear his eyes had hearts in them. “Do I get a kiss?” His grin turned teasing.

You swallowed thickly. “I… I promised you myself if you helped me,” you said weakly. “It’s all I can really give you… besides my spiritual energy—“

Kaz leaned forwards, his face so close that you could almost feel his breath against your lips. “Be my bride,” he whispered, his voice a heady murmur.

You breath hitched. “K-Kaz?” Had you… heard him right-?

“You offered me yourself, darling,” he purred. “So, be my bride. I am contracted to you, aren’t I? So I will be an impertinent beast and ask the shrine maiden to be my bride without shame.”

You closed your eyes. “Okay,” you whispered.

He paused, as though he himself didn’t believe you’d agreed.

Because you both knew that as a youkai contracted to someone with spiritual energy, you had the power to entirely command him to do anything… and deny him anything. Yet here you were, agreeing to be his bride.

“Okay, Kaz,” you repeated, not meeting his eyes. You could feel the color splash across your face.

But in all honesty, it wasn’t as though you really had many other options. Kaz could promise you some sort of safety even against your own family, and his power was certainly enough to protect you against other youkai. It had taken one of the highest-complexity talismans to even seal him away in the first place, and you could already feel through the contract how powerful he was.

The idea of being his bride… wasn’t really disagreeable.

“Darling,” Kaz breathed. His lips gently slid against yours, the touch soothing and almost… grounding. “I’ll be a most devoted husband, I promise,” he murmured.

You closed your eyes and decided that you would try to believe.

The talisman had been such a small thing, really.

You smiled as you walked down the street, stretching your hand out to gather the raindrops that pattered down and pooled in your palm. The weather had been beautiful, but despite the warm sunshine and hardly a cloud being in the sky, it had still decided to rain.

Pausing in the middle of the empty sidewalk, you lifted your face and let the raindrops splash against your face in a cooling shower. You loved the rain, the way it seemed to wash away all your heavy worries and soothe the ragged edge in your soul.

A shadow fell over you, and you opened your eyes to see Kaz standing above you, smiling down at you. He leaned down and swept you up into his arm, one hand holding your thigh while the other wrapped around your waist. A startled laugh fell from your lips as you held onto his shoulders.

“Is my darling enjoying the fox wedding?” he cooed.

You flushed, just then realizing the common name for the burst of cloudless rain. You gave him a shy smile, then nodded.

He chuckled. “Should we celebrate, sweet one? I can give you a gift, if you like.” Between one breath and another, he’d shifted you both somewhere else.

You gasped, eyes widening as you saw that you were floating on a soft, wispy cloud, now deep in the forest on the outskirts of town. A place no other people were, where the rain pattered softly against the leaves of the trees and dripped to the undisturbed grasses below. Flowers bloomed beneath your cloudy carpet ride, and you leaned over to brush your fingers through the colorful blooms.

The cloud rose a little, coming to a stop and floating peacefully. Kaz pulled you into his lap, his hands wrapping around your entire waist. He smiled, watching your expressions as you looked around in delight.

“And what do you think of your wedding veil, my darling bride?” Kaz murmured, leaning down to brush his nose against your hair.

You looked down at the long, wispy cloud under you, and smiled. “It’s pretty. Thank you, Kaz.” You tilted your head back to smile at him.

His orange eyes flared, and he caught your lips in a burning kiss that seared through you like foxfire. Letting out a surprised squeak, you grasped his robe, fingers tangling in it for support as he pulled you closer, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. Your head spun as your eyes fluttered closed.

When he finally parted, you gasped a little for air, blinking dazedly. His hand gently slid up your waist and side, sliding to your back, pulling you flush against him. He pressed another kiss to your lips. You realized, with a burst of embarrassment, that the rain had entirely soaked your shirt, plastering it to your body and leaving rather little to the imagination.

“Darling, my darling,” Kaz murmured against your lips, “won’t you let me touch you?” His hands slid down your body, fingers caressing you sensually.

You bit your lip, heat staining your face. It wasn’t fair. He knew your weakness for his hands. His large, strong hands that held you close, admired your body with touch. His calloused, capable hands that protected you, defended you, worked for you.

You nodded shyly, peeking up at him. Your lips parted in a gasp as his hands slid under your shirt, starting to map out your skin. His tongue slid against yours in a soft kiss, almost distracting you from how his hands deftly explored your body.

It almost startled you when your back landed against the cloud, Kaz hovering above you with his hands wrapped around your waist. His robe slipped open, sliding down his shoulders as he observed you with burning eyes.

“So beautiful, darling,” he purred, his hands trailing down to your pants. “Can I touch? Please?”

Shyly, you nodded, one hand over your mouth as you let out a quiet whimper, chest heaving with breath. Kaz’s hands were so broad, so warm… handled you with such a reverent sort of gentility and softness that you couldn’t help but bask in it, melt into it.

A steady purr rumbled through his chest as he kissed his way down your jaw and neck, fingers sliding into your pants and underwear to pull them off. Sliding his hands under you, he pulled your body up against him, lips sliding across yours.

Your hands braced you against his chest as you gasped, feeling his cock land heavily against your stomach. It throbbed against you, but he quickly distracted you as one hand slid into your hair, pulling your head back. He pressed a kiss to your lips, his mouth hot against your skin.

“So tiny and sweet,” Kaz mumbled against your neck, his voice half-drunk. His fingers slid across your thigh wrapped around his waist, and he lowered his hips, pushing you into the plush softness of the cloud. Your mind started to fuzz, entirely focused on the way his hands grasped at you, somehow greedy and gentle all at once, and the way he handled you with that deft confidence yet tender infatuation.

“Kaz,” the moan left your lips before you could quite help it, your entire body humming at every brush of his fingers.

His answering hum was low and amused as he started to gently slide into you, making you gasp and arch. His cock slid into you without resistance. You’d gotten so wet just thanks to his soft touches and gentle attention. He murmured your name against your lips as he slid wholly into you, seating himself inside with a heavy breath.

You whimpered, biting your lip as you tried to somehow ground yourself. Everything had started to go fuzzy, especially as his hands wrapped entirely around your hips and pulled you down onto his cock, his grasp iron as he ground up into you.

His pace, once he started thrusting, stayed steady and almost agonizingly slow. But when you whined, he chuckled and slid his fingers between your lips instead. You let his lithe fingers gently play with your tongue, while his other hand kept you anchored to him.

You could feel the coil inside you steadily growing, getting tighter, closer to the edge. Everything felt so hazy and light, like the solidity of his body was the only real thing, the only think that mattered. Like his hands were the only things that kept you grounded, held you down, safe from drifting away.

“K-Kaz.” Your teary eyelids opened to gaze up at his face.

“Does this please you, my darling?” Kaz murmured, sliding his fingers out of your mouth and down to press against your clit.

“I— I love you.” Your fingers curled against his chest.

His orange eyes widened, then flooded with that pure, infatuated adoration. “I love you, my sweet darling,” he purred, kissing you. “And I am so entirely yours.”

The coil in your stomach snapped, your orgasm washing over you with a force that left you lightheaded and dizzy. The pleasure suffused your entire body until you were gasping, tears streaking down your cheeks as you whimpered.

You finally floated down from your high to the feeling of Kaz’s hands sweeping over you. He murmured soft endearments into your ear, pressing soft kisses to your skin. He pulsed inside you, but still kept his pace slow and steady as he fucked you through the aftershocks.

Wrapping your hands around his neck, you nestled your head into the crook of his neck. His hands clenched around your hips, and he let out a groan as he rested his head beside yours. You could tell that he was so close, his hips starting to stutter.

“You feel so lovely, so warm and tight and soft, darling,” Kaz groaned. “Please, can I—“

“It’s okay, Kaz,” you reassured sweetly, voice shy. “You can.”

He jerked one more time, sinking into you with a low groan. His entire body shuddered as he came, pouring into you as he gripped your thighs hard enough to leave fingerprints. For once, you didn’t mind the bruises.

Pulling back, he caught your lips in a deep kiss, mouth slanting over yours. He poured the love, the gratitude, the adoration between your lips until you felt as though you could drown in it.

“I will always protect you,” he promised against your lips.

And for once, you believed the promise.

It was such a small thing, really.

#elysiadjarinkinktober #elysiadjarin #my writing #mywriting #x reader #kinktober #fox spirit x reader #Youkai #japanese mythology #Youkai x reader #Exophilia #monster x human #nsft #smut #terato #monsterboyfriend #monsterlover #monsterfucker #x you

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getouswh0re · 3 years

Text

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

genre: yandere, unhealthy relationships, mentions of violence, blood & gore, mass murdering, obsession, slight manga spoilers

synopsis: he would tear the entire world apart with his own hands, just to keep you by his side evermore.

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

Love is a lethal bliss.

Bearing semblance to momentary sweetness, it warms the cockles of your heart; yet before one could even savour it for long, in its honey-like aftertaste is a deadly poison — seeping through the branching veins and killing every cell of the living host within its reach. Soundlessly, life is sucked out as one discovers themselves teetering on a tightrope of death.

i) The ambience of the atmosphere between you and Gojo is silent, deadly — akin to the calming weather before a raging storm. As the two of you stand at opposite ends of the living room, eyes refusing to meet with the sorcerer’s as an expanse of sky blue smoulders holes into your soul. Feeling your limbs trembling from the intensity of his stare, cat got your tongue. The words you’ve meant to say are stuck at the back of your throat as the taller male shifts a step forward, and you unconsciously leaning back against the wall.

“Do we have to do this love?” You cringe at the feigned pain interlaced in your ex’s tone. “You know you don’t have to do this. This is painful for both you and I, and knowing how much you love me, you certainly don’t want to put both of us through all of this. Don’t you?”

You bite your lip, eyes downcast.

You wish all of this isn’t necessary, that everything that has happened is nothing more than your imagination regarding the red flags displayed before your periphery. Still, you have to do it having mulled over it for a while. It is about time that all of this come to an end.

Ever since a certain man called Gojo Satoru meandered into your life, everything changed as your feelings for the male blossomed, like fresh buds on the bare branches with remnants of snow thawing into tinges of spring. It didn’t take long for the two of you to reciprocate one another’s feelings, yet cracks gradually surface on what seemed like an all-too-perfect fairy tale, breaking the crystal ball of illusion that you had been trapped in throughout all these months.

For as long as you could remember, Gojo has been acting out of character; sure enough he retains his childish personality and insufferable god complex, yet there are times when you could barely recognise him. On occasions he would whine for hours, desperate to gain your attention, and there were moments when he’d follow wherever you went. Initially dismissing his clinginess as his way of displaying affection, you didn’t think much about it. That was until his demeanour underwent a 180 degree shift; being overbearing was one thing, yet the sorcerer had the audacity to dictate your life and your social circle, stepping his foot way past the boundaries that even you thought was too much.

It wasn’t like you didn’t give Gojo an opportunity to change for the better. You did; it was him who failed to reflect on his own mistakes, to take things for granted without realising he had been in the wrong all along. With those alarming signs of the relationship spiralling into a toxic one, it occurred to you that you should end things fast before circumstances aggravated.

Love is a beautiful pain.

To relish its fleeting vestiges between their fingertips, one must endure the torment of its thorns. Not everyone has the courage to sacrifice their sanity for something so transient, but one — or maybe few, who are more than willing to pay for their price, would do anything to hold onto such evanescent reminisces close to their heart.

ii) “Come on y/n. You know you don’t want to break up with me, stop lying to your heart.”

As if his saccharine smile isn’t enough to make bile surge up your throat, the lovelorn white-haired man stares at you with such adoration, making you revolted than ever; before you could even blink, he is already inches away, bringing up his slender fingers and caressing your cheeks with utter delicacy.

“From the moment we met, it’s like the red strings of fate intertwining, akin to two worlds colliding.”

Feeling his breath tickling your frigid neck, goosebumps laminate your skin as you shudder underneath his lasting touches.

“Your heart belongs to me, and mine yours. It’s like the universe wants the two of us to be together — forever. Just stop denying your feelings, okay? I can hear your heartbeat ... it’s beating crazy, just for me.”

“Gojo, you need to stop all of this —“

“Oh honey, don’t say that ... I know the look in those eyes.” He presses on, his insufferable ego refusing to give in. “You might be pushing me away, but your body does the exact opposite. You’re still in love with me. You care for me, I know you do.”

Perhaps that is what makes terrifying about the sorcerer. Wearing his usual smile on a deceptively charming face, his true thoughts are inscrutable beneath the unfazed facade; worst of all, you never know what would drive him off the edge, not until you experience triggering a ticking time bomb by accident.

“Gojo, hear me out.” You push the towering male away, determined than ever to cut ties with him for the sake of your own safety. “What you do is not love anymore. It’s ... obsession! And it’s suffocating me! If you truly cared about me you would’ve respected my wishes and opinions — but you didn’t. No matter how much you love someone, this is far beyond acceptable. I ... we need to break up, for the sake of both of us.”

Stunned, the remnants of hope flicker in the sorcerer’s azure eyes before dissipating into darkness, along with his despondent heart that has plummeted into abysmal depths of a bottomless void. Hands retracting from your skin, you heave out a sigh of relief when spine-chilling chortles echo from Gojo’s throat.

“You think that’s it? That I’ll let you go?” The crazed glint in his burning stare convinces you even more that breaking up with this delusional man is the only option to save yourself. Slowly backing towards the door, you have prepared yourself for the worst, making a potential run with a bag filled with your valuables.

“You cannot run away from me y/n! You know you can never escape from me. I will flip the world upside down to find you — and hunt you down! Want me to prove that? I will tear the entire world apart by my hands, just so that you won’t run away from me anymore!”

You finally make your run, sprinting out of your shared apartment as fast as you could whilst ignoring his shrilling screams, deciding to leave everything behind for good.

Love is an unprecedented enigma.

Like a never-ending Möbius strip, the red strings of fate intertwines people's fates — yet at the same time, it looms over everyone's lives like a doom of death, mercilessly tearing loved ones or those held dear to their hearts apart within the blink of an eye. Callous as it seems, it reminds people how minuscule acts of gratitude allow them to appreciate the present before they lament or carry their regrets later on in life. Unfortunately, with the complexity of destiny, nobody could ever foresee when karma would dawn upon their heads. Not even you.

Little would you know that doomsday would be awaiting you so soon.

iii) For what feels like going through hell and back, you finally manage to rid yourself out of the psychotic sorcerer's hands and his devious manipulation. For what it’s worth, there is no guarantee about your life returning to normal. Knowing that it is nearly impossible to escape from Gojo (knowing that his sixth eyes can instantly locate where you are), you eventually make the decision of moving away with a heavy heart, considering that it would be what it’s best to solve your issues with your controlling ex.

Having settled the documents and errands, all that’s left is for you to leave the place filled with nothing other than sad memories. As if it seems like a fresh start is extending its outstretched hands towards you, freedom is just within hand’s reach.

Not until all hell breaks loose on October 31st — the day of your departure.

Copper tinges beckon indigo skies at twilight, remnants of the setting sun shining through the windows as you take a last, rueful look at the apartment you’ve resided most of your life before grabbing your belongings and heading towards the train station. With the day being Halloween, it isn’t surprising at all that the streets would be crowded, flooded with jovial citizens who want to enjoy themselves during the spooky season. All you have to do is make your way onto the designated train.

Yet that never happened, because havoc descends among the living like a catastrophic plague.

Just as you writhe your way through the streets and making your way towards the train station, screams erupt when a massive quake demolish the surrounding buildings into shambles, tearing the festive merriment in the atmosphere apart as people turn and run in all directions without warning — leaving you extremely perplexed about the current state of Shibuya. Horror is evident in every onlooker’s eyes whilst they dash for shelter; the city is in absolute chaos — danger looming, asphalt pavements ensanguined with blood, distressed cries resonating into the night.

“Hey!” You call out, grabbing onto a random passerby. “What the hell happened?”

“Danger ... curses ... sorcerer —“

Your blood run cold upon the mentioning, and it didn’t take long for you to figure out the entire situation and who has been responsible. In hindsight, you should’ve had followed the rest and ran away from the scene immediately, but you don’t — standing there amongst the quiet streets in utter terror. And before you could even lift your legs and sprint for your life, there he is, stained from head to toe in blood — an inebriated stare full of nothing but infatuation for you.

“Honey! There you are ...” Skipping over mountains of corpses humming a joyful tune, Gojo happily pulls you into his chest, nestling his face against your squirming shoulders, his grip a vice against your futile efforts of struggling to break free. “I was so worried about you ever since you left! I ... I feel like my world is falling apart, and I just cannot live without you you know!”

“Get. The. Hell. Off. Me!”

The sorcerer chortles at your demand, ignoring your protests as he hugs you closer to his throbbing heart.

“Darling ... we could’ve been so happy together. Yet you have to do all of this. For what? If you had given me your heart and soul, none of this would’ve happened —“

“Oh, so this is my fucking problem now?” You hiss, shoving the taller male off. “You really are crazy — Gojo Satoru. But I never regret the decision I’ve made, and I will do it again and again if I need to!”

That is when he activates his domain expansion.

All of your sudden, your mind is a blank — staring into the sorcerer’s cerulean eyes as it overwhelms you like a raging hurricane, sucking you deeper and deeper until your entirety sinks into his infinite void. For once you finally fear the strongest man on earth — of the dangers he possesses and what would’ve happened had he decided to break your mind the hard way.

“To be honest, I don’t care ~” Silent tears roll down your cheeks once you recognise the drop in the man’s usual carefree tone, feeling the remnants of sanity being ruthlessly stripped away from you as you fall limp in Gojo’s loving arms.

“The seas can rage, the heavens will rumble. But no matter what happens, I’m never going to let any of this take you away from me — for you and I are the honoured ones, destined to be together ...”

With his voice dwindling to a hushed whisper, the sorcerer slips a shimmering ring onto your finger, declaring in utmost adoration his vows of undying love.

“In time and evermore.”

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a-detraque-barista · 3 years

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Could i pls request a siren jin♡,,,one where he finds you after a storm in a shipwreck and he like nurses you back to health but when your finally ready to go he won't actually let you. You can decide the ending🙇‍♀️

A/N: thank you for requesting, my love, I hope you enjoy~

The cruise ship rocked back and forth repeatedly, waves crashing into the sides. Rain poured from the dark cumulonimbus clouds, successfully soaking through your clothing. Thunder and lightning rang and flashed all around. Panicked screams sounded from every room of the ship. You were holding onto the side rail tightly. You could barely keep your eyes open long enough to see the monstrous wave that was about to collide with the ship.

Almost everyone knew it was safer to stay on the large vessel rather than get on a smaller one and risk the chance of being drowned by the ocean itself. Although, it seems this boat wasn’t going to last much longer. The few people that did lower themselves in a raft down into the water were quickly flipped over and taken by the unforgiving sea.

Your soaked hair whipped in every which way before the wave came down on the ship. Your grip on the metal railing slipped as the entire cruise was flipped until it was sideways before crashing into the depths of the sea. A hook from the ship caught into your shirt and into your side as you attempted to swim back up to the surface. You watched as more people and debris began to float to the surface.

This was it. You had no way of surviving. Your lungs were running out of oxygen and you were sinking farther and farther to the seafloor. You relaxed your muscles and let out your last bit of breath, closing your eyes. You should have never accepted the ticket your friend had given you.

Breathing in, water filled your airway, burning. Faintly, you felt a tug on the hook that was dug into your side. Your eyes open just slightly to see a man taking the hook out of your flesh and felt his arms wrap around you.

Your vision turned black before you could look at your savior.

The sound of crashing water woke you. Eyes cracked open to be met with a cave ceiling. The hand resting by your side could feel a scratchy fabric underneath you. Your other hand laid on your stomach. You went to sit up only to lay back down again from the shooting pain in your side. Groaning while gently nursing your side, you looked down to see your shirt, now dried, with a bloodstain. Carefully, you lifted your shirt up to see bandages wrapped around your torso.

“Finally, you’re awake, I was starting to worry you would never wake up,” a voice came from your right making your head turn.

Your eyes landed on the man you remember before losing consciousness. His wet pink hair was slicked back, broad shoulders dripping with water. Muscly arms rested on the lip of the tide pool he treaded in. The sound of rushing water you had woken up to was the waterfall meeting the river that led outside of the cave you were in.

The man’s cyan eyes stay on you as you moved your head around to look at your new and unfamiliar surroundings. He studied your expression, your body, all the small movements you made hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. His gut trembled with hunger as he couldn’t look away from you. He felt parched even though he was in a pool of water.

“Wait...how come you were able to save me from that deep in the water?” you looked at him scrutinizing.

“Haha, well, ya see…” he brought the end of his tail high enough for you to see his monofin.

…

“All right, I’m out,” you went to stand but the pain in your side had you slowly lay back down, taking deep breaths through the pain.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re going anywhere, Moonlight.”

Moonlight? What an odd nickname. Although, this whole situation was odd. You didn’t have much of a choice, you could barely move without being in immense pain and you had no idea where you were.

Meanwhile, the half-man was studying your appearance. Normally the humans that were stranded or in need of help were men that made the journey to feed their egos. What was an extraordinary specimen like you doing all the way out here? His webbed hands reached towards your arm. Your skin was so smooth compared to his scaly skin.

With the touch of the man’s cold hand, it brought your attention to his face. His slicked, almost dry, hair was a rose pink that matched well with his pale skin. His plump rosy lips pursed as he studied your skin more. Guess the folklore and tales were actually true, merpeople do exist. There was something...off about him though. As if he wasn’t a normal merman based on stories. The sharp teeth that poked out when he spoke and the claws that lightly dragged across your skin were not the basic portrayals of a merman.

“What are you exactly?” you couldn’t keep the question from coming out but since you were stuck here, might as well learn about your inhuman savior.

He chuckled, “I’m what you humans call a siren.”

“Like the ones that lure people to their death with singing?”

“Is that what you humans think? We don’t have to sing to get humans under our spells. They merely have to look at us and they’ll be entranced if we so wish,” he explained as if he wasn’t admitting to killing humans.

He noticed your concerned expression and decided to reassure you, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to eat you. If I was going to I would’ve already done it. Besides, there was more than enough food from the rest of the wreck.”

“Why did you save me?”

“Cause you’re cute.”

It was simple and short. Nothing about it was sweet. Who knows how many other lives he could have saved especially if he had time to bandage your wound and eat while you were unconscious.

“If you keep staring at me like that then I’m going to have to eat you,” he chuckled as your eyes widened before darting away. He found you so adorable yet so delectable. There was no doubt in his mind that you would be the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. However, he couldn’t bring himself to eat you. Something about you had pulled him to your location. That’s how he found the shipwreck. That part of the ocean belonged to someone else but he didn’t care at the time.

You went to ask for the siren’s name when your gut made a loud growling noise. Your cheeks turned red as you keep your gaze away from the smirking man next to you.

“Seems like my little human is hungry. I’ll be right back,” he chuckled again before submerging under the water and swam away.

This gave you a chance to look around, the dewy rock walls led up to an opening with the moon shining directly down into the cave you laid in. It was full and glowing brightly. You could hear the waves colliding with the outside of the rock formation around you. It was so dangerously calming.

“I’m back~” the siren popped his head out of the water, startling you. “I got you a mackerel!” he slapped the fish right beside you as he grinned.

You watched as water dripped down his smiling face. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

Over the past three weeks, you’ve learned that your savior’s name was Seokjin. He’d been taking care of you, never leaving your side for too long. You had started changing your bandages due to Seokjin’s claws accidentally catching on your sutures and reopening the wound. If he kept changing the bandages your wound would never heal.

Now the cut is almost completely healed and you’ve been thinking of ways to get home when Seokjin wasn’t talking your ear off. For someone who didn’t like humans very much, he liked to talk to you for hours. You wondered how he had so many stories to tell.

“Moonlight, what are you thinking about?” Seokjin’s voice pierced through your thoughts.

“Just trying to think of a way to get back home?” you sighed as you continued to drag your finger through the sand absentmindedly.

“Leave? Why would you want to leave?” his brows furrowed and his face scrunched up in disgust.

“Well...I can’t stay here. I have a life back home. Friends, work, I’m sure no one has any idea where I am. Or even if I’m alive for that matter,” you hoped you weren’t making your friends sick with worry.

Seokjin began laughing. It started as a chuckle and progressed to a sickening cackle that echoed throughout the cave. You slowly shuffled back until you hit the rough cave wall. Still, it wasn’t far enough from the crazed siren in front of you.

“You can’t leave, Moonlight. You’re mine,” he chuckled before pulling himself out of the tide pool and onto the sand. His long tail transformed into legs, allowing him to walk over to you and crouch down. He held your chin between his fingers, “I’ll never let you go. I’m your life now.”

“Let me go home,” your wide eyes were staring into his.

Your mind was going blank as a smirk stretched across his features. Your eyes could no longer focus. You willed your limbs to move but they wouldn’t comply. Soon, you couldn’t think at all. Seokjin wasn’t allowing you to even think of leaving him behind.

#bts kim seokjin #kim seokjin #yandere kpop #yandere x reader #yandere seokjin #yandere bts x reader #yandere bts #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin x reader #yandere seokjin x reader #siren au #siren bts #siren seokjin #bts jin #yandere siren #yandere siren seokjin

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