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fallenbratfiction · 29 days ago

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Bambi ~ Part one

series masterpost here pedro pascal masterlist

a/n: this is quite long, I hope it keeps you fed while I prepare the next part!! feedback is always welcomed!! i will be gnawing at the bars of my enclosure ok bye!

mentions: post-outbreak / apocalyptic setting, dubcon/coercion themes, blood mention, obsession/possessiveness, power imbalance, reader is of age (above 18), naive reader (soft/innocent/inexperienced), fingering, non-explicit violence & threats, gun use, manipulation & emotional control, possessiveness, praise kink, possible other kinks, punishments,, “daddy” kink, shared reader (Joel x Reader x Tommy), pet names (Bambi, sweet girl, good girl, our girl), domestic elements turned dark, mental confusion & emotional overwhelm, morally gray to fully unhinged dark Miller brothers

Reader discretion strongly advised. Dark themes throughout. Minors DNI ❌ This is a work of fiction and does not reflect healthy or ideal relationships!!!

Do not copy, translate or claim any of my work as your own.

⟡━━━ ✦ 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗳𝗶𝗰 ahead ✦ ━━━⟡

The forest is quiet at night, too quiet for its own sake. There used to be more life out here. Crickets chirping. Frogs croaking. Birds or bats darting through the dark sky. Now there’s nothing. Just still trees and dead air, like the whole forest is holding its breath.

“You know what I miss the most about the woods?” Joel asks, voice low as he walks beside his brother, their shotguns slung across their backs.

Tommy turns to him and huffs, waiting for his brother to respond to his question.“Deers” Tommy hums in approval, “Used to see ‘em all the time, this time of night.”

“You miss watchin’ ‘em or huntin’ ‘em?” Tommy snorts, Joel huffs a quiet laugh—

—and then it happens.

A sudden flash of motion cuts through the trees. Small, fast. Barely there.

Both of them stop.

Silence.

Alert.

They are quick to grab their shotguns and scan the shadows with their guns pointed, expecting another movement. Eyes sharp, bodies tensed.

Joel’s voice drops, almost amused. “Well, speak of the devil…”

Tommy steps forward, eyes narrowed. “You saw that?”

Joel is already scanning the brush. “Yeah. Could’ve been a rabbit. Could’ve been somethin’ else.”

Another motion. Left this time. Farther.

They both turn, guns half-lifted.

Joel mutters, “Whatever it is, it’s movin’ smart.”

Tommy nods. “Too smart.”

A beat passes. Then Joel speaks.

“Split?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, already turning to flank. “We circle the woods. If it’s still out here—we’ll find it.”

They part in silence, each splitting through the trees like they already know the drill, they’ve done this a hundred times by now.

Joel moves through the right, slow and deliberate, each of his steps deliberate. Meanwhile, Tommy veers to the other direction; his steps are lighter and his eyes cut through the dark like a blade, scanning everything in sight.

You’re out there moving fast, barefoot and running out of air. Your legs are tired and bruised from all the times you’ve tripped. You don’t know how far you’ve gotten by now, but you can’t risk it, you can’t risk being found by him.

You’re trying your best, but panic keeps you clumsy, and every snap of a branch is louder than it should be. The leaves rustle with every move you make, which guides Joel closer to your location.

You don’t know they are close.

They don’t know if you’re a wild animal, a person, or just an illusion.

They’re not here to hurt you, but you don’t know that. They are just as curious as you, and just as cautious.

They keep circling you, it’s like a never-ending game. They move, you move, they move again. Joel on one side, Tommy on the other. Each move draws the noose tighter, but they don’t know how close they are yet; they just feel it.

You’re not trying to be found, but you’ve been on the run for long enough now. Your body aches, and your vision is blurry from the adrenaline and the fact that, along the way, you had lost your glasses. You weave through the trees, ducking under branches and trunks of trees, your hands in front of you leading the way until your foot catches around thorns.

You don’t scream or cry, but it’s evident you’ve fallen due to the solid thud of your body hitting the ground. The game is over; they’ve found you. Joel turns and runs in your direction. Tommy, though a bit further, hears the sound as well and freezes.

Branches hit Joel’s body as he pushes forward through the forest, deeper into the darkness, with only his flashlight in hand, his shotgun lowered in his other hand.

And that's when he finds you curled on the ground, legs smeared with dirt as well as your clothes, and your hair is a tangled mane with leaves. You stare at the figure of Joel like a deer caught in the headlights. Your eyes are wide, frozen.

He just stands there looking at you, neither of you says a word. A part of him relaxes, you’re just a girl. His eyes then trail over your shape, too small, too soft, too human.

“Huh, not exactly what I expected to find.” He murmurs mostly to himself.

Joel keeps the flashlight on your face just enough to keep you stunned, your eyes don’t leave the light, too afraid to move, and quite honestly, too blinded to know what to do next, but your body remains tense, muscles twitching like you’re ready to bolt and run in any direction.

You watch him as he moves two fingers close to his mouth and lets out a specific whistle, alerting someone else that he has found you. Low and controlled, he repeats it for Tommy to hear and waits for his response.

Tommy whistles back as he makes his way to Joel, and to you now as well.

Joel crouches slowly as if he were face to face with a wild, wounded animal. You don’t move at all. You don’t know who or what he is or what his intentions are. Joel is checking to see if you were infected. Thankfully, your short dress allowed him to inspect your body without getting too close. He’s seen enough infected people by now to know what to look for and how they look alike. He also looks to check if you carry any weapons on you, investigating what kind of girl you are.

Were you a savage?

Were you running from danger?

Were you lost?

“You gon bite me if I touch you?” he asks in a low voice. You don’t answer, just shake your head, barely breathing. “Alright then, let’s see what you are.”

He gets slightly closer now, you can feel his breathing close to yours, and the warmth that radiates from his body. Joel kneels right in front of you, flashlight set on the ground gently. He scans your body, not touching yet.

“Were you hurt?” he asks softly, afraid to scare you off. “Can you tell me your name? Where you come from?”

You don’t make a sound, just blink up at him slowly, your chest rising and falling like the adrenaline is coming down. He watches your face, tight with fear and filthy with dirt, and he reaches out to you with his arm slowly. His fingers are rough, but he remains gentle nonetheless.

He moves the hair from your face, gently cradles your chin as he looks into your eyes, before lowering his sight to check for scratches.

Your eyes are clear. Not infected, checked.

Lips are dry, but no blood or foam in sight.

No signs of a bite.

Joel shifts closer, now checking your arms, elbows, and shoulders as he scans for any wounds or shivers. You don’t move at all the whole time. Too scared to try anything or make him think you would do something.

“My name is Joel,” he says, meeting your eyes again, “I’m not here to hurt you, understand me?”

You stare at him for a beat too long, Joel wonders if you can even speak at all.

You nod once, small but enough for him to catch.

Joel exhales like he’s been holding his breath this whole time. Encountering you feels like an encounter with a deer, wide-eyed, silent, frightened and too delicate for this kind of world.

Yet still alive, and perhaps willing to be led.

The moment is interrupted by the appearance of Tommy.

Branches crack under his boots as he pushed through the brush, eyes sharp and his gun still raised. His flashlight lands on Joel, then on you.

“What the hell?”

Joel lifts a hand. “Easy. Put it down Tommy”

Tommy doesn’t move at first, his gaze set on your dirt smeared wide eyes as you stare back at him.

“She infected?” he asks, voice low.

“No” Joel says “Not infected, not hurt either. I checked”

Tommy hesitates and Joel asks him to put down the gun again. He obligues, slow and careful like defusing a bomb.

Joel turns back to you “C’mon sweetheart, let me help you up”

He reaches for you, carefully. You hesitate and after a pause you take his hand.

Tommy watches your legs tremble as you rise, body sluggish, muscles weak from exhaustion but you don’t stumble. It’s like watching Bambi trying to stand.

You move behind Joel.

Your hand curls tight around the fabric of his sleeves, fingers digging into his forearm enough to anchor yourself. You watch Tommy as you hide behind Joel’s shoulder.

Joel doesn’t flinch but Tommy watches you closely.

“You trust him already?” he asks.

You don’t respond, but Joel does.

“She doesn’t know me,”

Yet still you stand right there, behind a man you just met.

Joel feels the way your figure warms his back, looking for warmth yourself, your fingers digging into his arm and hears your staggering breaths.

You don’t know him at all, but you know he’s not the one you’re running from. Neither is Tommy, although you’re just as skeptical as him. Your nose twitches slightly catching smells. The men scent, wood, sweat, trees and dirt.

They smell like the woods, like safety in a way that confuses you.

You don’t know why you lean into trusting them, but you do.

“Well shit, what did we just find?” Tommy mutters finally “What do we do about her?”

Joel doesn’t answer. His hand rises, steady and low and rests over yours on his arm. You feel the calloused rough palm set on top of your frozen hand.

It’s not spoken, but they both seem to have agreed to take you back to their cabin.

They lead you through the forest path, Joel at your side while Tommy walks behind watching the two of you. His gun is still lowered but his arm remains tense.

The flashlight leads the way and cuts forward, flickering over roots and moss. The arm that’s not gripping Joel presses against trees, guiding yourself through your senses like you don’t trust the flashlight enough.

Joel keeps a close eye on you, glancing over in case your legs give out and he has to carry you himself at any given moment. The two of you are silent, but Tommy though, he’s certainly not quiet.

“So where do you come from?” he starts, voice firm as he asks a thousand questions. “You got family out here? Camp nearby? You run off from someone?”

You turn your head to look at him, your lips parted but you don’t emit an answer. You neither shake or nod your head.

Tommy keeps asking questions.

“Why were you running?” Still nothing. “You look like you’ve been out here for a while, someone chasing you?”

You swallow hard, your steps falter and you almost trip.

You turn your head forward, focusing on your steps that you barely see.

“I’m talkin’ to you” Tommy says now louder.

You flinch at the tone of his voice. Head ducking and your body curling to Joel’s looking for a sense of protection.

“I–” you don’t remember a single thing, memories blur as you try to think of what to say. “I– I don’t know”

“You don’t know?” He scoffs and stops walking. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? You don’t know?”

You shrink back instantly. His tone, the pressure of his questions and the rapid fire of them banging at the door. If you weren’t holding yourself so tightly to Joel right now, you’d flee like a scared deer.

“Enough questions now, Tommy” Joel cuts in, exhausted from the scene. “Let’s get her inside and we can keep going at this there”

“Oh so we’re bringing complete strangers into the cabin now. That’s great”

“Tommy–”

“What if this is a trap, huh? What if she’s not alone? What if there’s a group of people expecting for us to be at the door and storm in? What if they’re waiting for us to drag her inside?”

Joel hesitates.

He doesn’t want to believe a word he says, he doesn’t think any of it its true.

They both turn to you. You’ve gone silent again with the tone of Tommy’s voice.

Their flashlight catching your face again.

Lips parted. Eyes glossy filled with fear. Trembling breaths.

Not the kind of fear you feel from hiding something, rather the kind of fear when you’re about to break.

You’re a deer caught in the headlights. Too scared to breathe, lie or even run away.

If you knew anything or had any kind of information, you’d spill the second they push harder.

“Let’s just get her inside first.”

The door creaks open and you step into a bubble of warmth. Your leggs stutter as you cross the threshold. Fire crackles somewhere in the corner, inside a black box.

Their scent is so much stronger inside the cabin, it smells of pine, smoke and whiskey.

There’s a couch sitting under a large window, it’s covered with a few worn in blankets and a jacket lays in the arm rest. There’s a small kitchen good enough for both of them to make use of it and a wooden table with four chairs.

Tommy shuts the door behind you and stays near it. Joel on the other hand, moves slowly, guiding you over to the couch.

“You can take a seat” he offers “You’re safe”

You hover over to the couch but you don’t sit just yet. You’re not sure what to do with all this warmth, the cushions, the blankets.

Joel sighed and heads to the kitchen, you watch as he takes a can and sets it on the surface. He pours into a bowl and brings it back to you. The smell of stew becomes more intense with every step he takes in your direction.

You stare at the bowl in his hands like it’s a test. What even is it? Is it really for you?

“You should eat something” he says gently.

You look up at him, then back at the bowl, then at him again before taking the bowl from his hands slowly.

Tommy watches the whole scene and mutters under his breath. “Yeah, totally not suspicious”

“Tommy” Joel shoots him a look, “She’s probaby in shock”

“She’s in something”

You flinch again and Joel catches it. He takes the bowl from your hands and sets it on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Alright, you can eat when you’re ready” he murmurs “We will give you space.”

He backs away, nodding toward the kitchen. Tommy hesitates, then follows—just a few meters, not far. Not out of earshot. Definitely not out of sight.

Joel opens the fridge with a soft creak, pulls out two beers, and offers one wordlessly. Tommy takes it, eyes never leaving you as he brings the bottle to his lips.

No one speaks.

The fire crackles quietly, casting dancing shadows along the floor. Somewhere outside, the wind brushes against the cabin walls like a whisper.

You hear your own breath, and then – your stomach growls. Loud. Desperate.

The sound feels foreign, you hadn’t heard it in a while and it seemed your body just remembered it needs something.

Legs folding beneath you as you sink onto the edge of the couch, cautious and unsure. Your fingers reach for the bowl Joel left behind.

You inspect the bowl before you take a bite, stirring the thick mixture—bits of potato, carrot, some kind of meat. You don’t care what any of it is. The stew hits your tongue, a warm salty flavour that seems to wake up a memory. It’s so distant in your mind that you can’t reach it.

They both watch you as you eat from the bowl, Tommy leans on the counter, his expression unreadable. Joel is less obvious as he drinks his beer.

You finish the last bit of stew and the spoon clinks softly against the bowl. You set it back on the table and Joel takes it as a signal to move closer, perhaps you’re ready to talk now.

You clean your mouth with the back of your hand and rest it on your lap, anchoring yourself to the couch.

Joel’s boots step closer, slowly through the wooden floor. He crouches down beside you at eye level while Tommy watches from the kitchen. He’s still suspicious—but something in his gaze shifts. Just a little. Less predator. More puzzled. Curious.

“You remember anything yet?”

You stay in silence and shut your eyes tightly. As if you could squeeze the memories, look through your skull for any piece of information. And it does, but its not what you want. It’s far too painful to open that door inside your memory lane.

There’s a shotgun, your mother screaming, crying in pain and lots of blood. And then running endlessly. Your breath tearing through your lungs, your barefeet raw agains stone and soil. Your glasses fall somewhere in the middle of the road.

You gasp and your eyes open – wide and glassy.

Joel doesn’t move an inch.

Tommy straightens, his jaw tightens.

“What was it?” he asks gently. You shake your head.

“I don’t…I don’t know” you whisper, your voice hoarse from not having spoken in so long.

“Try” Tommy says from the kitchen, you both turn your heads to him and you nod.

“There was…blood. And someone crying. I think—I think it was my mom”

Joel’s gaze darkens but his voice stays at the same level as before. “You remember a name? Yours? Hers?”

You shake your head again, frustrated at the lack of memory.

Tommy shifts his weight and rubs his hand along the back of his neck. “Jesus, what happened to you?”

You look down at your lap, Joel interrupts. “You’re safe now, that’s what matters”

But are you really safe? With them?

You want to feel safe, a part of the warmth allows you to.

But there’s something left unsaid, something you quite haven’t figured out yet.

Joel takes the blankets without saying a word and moves slowly over you. You’ve curled yourself on your side, he set a cushion under your head. He tucks the edges so the blanket doesn’t slip when you turn.

You don’t move at all.

Not when his hand pauses near your shoulder, not when he lingers too long watching your face in the soft flicker of firelight. Joel pulls back, leaving you alone on the couch and you heard the floorboards creaking under his boots. He turns to Tommy and signals to go outside to talk in private.

You can’t sleep.

You should be exhausted due to all the running and the adrenaline rush, but your body remains alert. You hear them talking somewhere near the window, their voices low like the things they’re saying are not meant for your ears.

Your eyes stay shut, breaths slow and steady.

“What are we going to do with her?” Tommy murmurs.

Joel doesn’t answer right away.

“You saw her,” he says after a beat “She’s got no one. Not a memory, not even a name”

“Yeah, not even a single survival instinct” he scoffs. Joel nods slow, agreeing with Tommy.

The silence stretches long enough for both of them to sigh.

“We’re keeping her” Joel says after a beat.

“You serious?” Tommy turns to him “Joel, this isn’t some dog we found in the woods”

“No, it’s not a dog, it’s a deer if anything. You saw her wide-eyes staring at our flashlights like a deer caught. She’s lucky we found her first”

Your chest tightens as you listen to Joel’s voice.

“The way she followed me, grabbed my arm. Like i was hers, like i was her anchor if something bad were to happen” he pauses “It means everything”

“You like her?” Tommy turns to Joel, their eyes meet. Joel doesn’t answer. “I do too”

More silence.

“We’ll take care of her”

Joel flicks ash off his cigarette and says nothing, he turns to look at the cabin as if you could hear them through the walls. He wishes you could.

You curl deeper under the blanket. The fabric still smells like firewood and soap and something faintly like him.

And behind your eyelids, all you can see is that shotgun again. The blood. Your mother’s scream.

And their voices now too.

Eventually your body gave out. Not from safety but pure exhaustion that had clawed its way through your body. You didn’t dream of anything. Didn’t make it to the edge of a nightmare.

Just completely blacked out. But before sleep took you, you’d felt them.

The cabin door opened and you could hear quiet steps across the floor. You remained still with your eyes closed. Joel stood near you, close enough to feel. Then Tommy did as well. Neither of them touched you but you could feel their gaze before they each went to their rooms.

Next morning

You wake up to the smell of bacon.

Salt and smoke and something almost sweet. Maple perhaps? Your eyes flutter slowly, vision still clouded with sleep.

Joel is in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up, a pan sizzling in front of him. The morning light cuts through the window in long slats casting a golden color over the room.

Tommy is already awake. He’s sitting at the table, leaned back in the chair, a mug in hand. He’s not drinking, just holding it. Watching you.

You sit up slowly and the blanket slips off your shoulder, pooling down your side. His eyes follow and look at your bare skin. He doesn’t look away, just looks harder. He’s not being subtle in the slightest and he knows it.

Your throat tightens and you shift, you pull the blanket back like an armor and Tommy watches as you do.

Joel glances over his shoulder as he serves the bacon in three different plates. “She’s up”

“She sure is” Tommy’s gaze lingers for a moment before taking a sip.

You feel uneasy, not unsafe but the way he’s staring at you like he could eat you right there and then was disturbing.Just yesterday, he didn’t want to let you inside the cabin. Now, you can feel it in his silence:He wouldn’t be able to let you out.

Joel, on the other hand, moves like nothing’s wrong.

He sets two plates on the table, one in front of the empty seat—yours. He nods at it casually, then looks down at you with a faint, unreadable smile.

“Here you go, Bambi.”

Your brows pull slightly. “What?”

“Figured since you don’t remember a name,” he says, setting down a mug of something warm—tea surely—“we might as well call you somethin’.”

You blink at him. Bambi. You should protest. But you don’t.

“That alright with you?” Tommy smiles at you.

You just nod, slow, your stomach fluttering in ways you can’t explain.

The nickname clings to you like smoke. Innocent, sweet—and completely theirs.

You pull out the chair with a soft scrape and sit down, directly across from them. Tommy starts eating his plate of bacon while you stare down at yours as if trying to figure out what it is.

“So we talked last night,” Joel starts as he takes a seat and relaxes back into the chair, chatting like its an everyday breakfast. You glance up at him, his voice is warm and calm.

“You’re going to be staying with us,” he adds “if you want to, of course.”

He lets the words sit there, lets you feel the kindness in them. Like you have a say.

But the truth seeps in anyway.

Where would you go?

Who would you find out there? Would you have food? A warm place to sleep? Would anyone keep you safe the way they would?

You hesitate.

Not because you’re unsure of the answer.

But because you know you’ve already lost the choice.

Joel watches you with a steady, comforting gaze—like he knows you’re working it all out. Like he’s giving you time to accept the truth.

And then Tommy speaks.

His voice is quieter this time. Measured. Different from the way he barked at you in the woods.

“Look,” he says, leaning slightly forward, elbows braced on the table. “I know I was... rough yesterday.”

You don’t meet his eyes.

He notices. He softens further.

“I get it. You’re scared. That’s fair.”

Tommy’s voice is lower now, softer than you’ve ever heard it. No edge, no sharpness—just quiet understanding. He offers the faintest smile.

Trying to shape himself into something gentle. Something safe.

“But you don’t gotta be scared of us,” he says, eyes fixed on yours. “Ever.”

You glance away, uncertain.

He leans in just a little, voice dropping further—soothing, almost tender.

“We just want you to feel safe. That’s one of the many things we can offer you, if you let us.”

You swallow.

The words settle deep. Deeper than you want to admit. There’s no threat in them—but somehow, they still hold weight.

If you let us.

As if there’s a choice.

As if you haven’t already been folded into the center of their world without even realizing it.

Joel stays quiet, letting Tommy do the talking. But his eyes are on you, steady.

The air feels thick.

You grip your fork tighter. Your eyes burn, but not with tears—just heat, tension, exhaustion.

And still—something in you wants to believe him. Wants to believe it could be that simple.

You nod, barely.

And your voice—quiet, hoarse, uncertain—slips out before you can stop it.

“...Okay.”

Just one word.

But Joel shifts when he hears it.

His eyes flick toward Tommy, then back to you. There’s something unreadable in his expression—something settled.

Tommy leans back slightly in his chair, but not far. Like he’s giving you space, but not too much.

Like he’s proud of himself.

Joel speaks next, quieter than before.

“Good, Bambi,” Joel says, voice low and easy. “Happy to have you on board.”

You give him a small smile—tight, unsure. But you offer it anyway.

And that’s more than enough.

He sees it. Feels it.

That flicker of willingness, of trust—however faint—is all he needs.

His hand brushes his thigh as he stands. “Why don’t you finish your breakfast,” he says, gesturing to your full plate, “and we’ll find you something clean to wear.”

You glance down at your clothes—mud-streaked, torn at the hem, dried blood in places you don’t want to think about.

You nod, quiet again. “Okay.”

Tommy stands too, stretching his arms, voice light. “Reckon we got some stuff she can use in the back. Closet’s got a few things.”

Joel takes his and Tommy’s plate and heads to the sink to clean up while you dive into your bacon and eggs.

“How’s the taste, Bambi?” he asks, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You pause, blinking at him. Chewing.

“It’s good,” you say softly, then add—because it feels expected—“Thank you.”

His smile deepens. Not smug. Not proud. Just… satisfied.

“Good girl,” he murmurs under his breath as he turns back to the sink.

You’re not sure if he meant for you to hear that. But you do. And it settles deep.

Tommy returns from the hallway with a modest pile of clothes in his arms—folded, clean, and smelling faintly like cedar and something deeper beneath it.

“There weren’t many options,” he says, setting them down neatly on the couch, “but it’s more than I thought we had.”

You glance at the stack. An old flannel. A plain black hoodie. Two shirts. Pants. Sweatpants. Even a pair of underwear—too big, but clean.

You blink. It’s more than you expected. More than you’ve had in a long time.

Tommy takes a step back and gives you a quick once-over—not leering, but assessing. His gaze lingers just enough to make your stomach tighten.

“Think you might wanna get cleaned up first,” he says, tone still easy. “When’s the last time you took a shower?”

You look down at yourself—dirt-streaked skin, dried blood on your arms, your clothes stiff with sweat and earth. Your face grows hot.

You’ve been so focused on their scent. So taken by the safety, the fire, the comfort of not being alone—

You forgot your own.

Do you stink?

You shift in your seat, suddenly self-conscious. You don’t meet his eyes. You just shake your head slowly.

Tommy nods once and gestures down the hallway. “Bathroom’s the first door on the right. Hot water still works. Use whatever you need.”

Joel speaks up from the sink. “We’ll keep your breakfast warm.”

You stand, hands curling around the blanket at your chest.

Still watching. Still being watched.

The hallway is dim, the floor cool beneath your bare feet as you move toward the door Tommy pointed out. You clutch the pile of clothes against your chest, the blanket slipping away behind you.

The bathroom is small but clean. A mirror above the sink, fogged slightly from earlier use. You can still smell them in here—soap, cologne, cedarwood.

You lock the door.

Not because you think they’ll barge in.

But because it’s the first time since arriving that you’re alone.

You exhale shakily and set the clothes on the edge of the sink. There’s a towel waiting for you, neatly folded on a stool. A bar of soap. A bottle of shampoo that smells vaguely like pine and smoke. And draped carefully over the hook behind the door— a shirt.

Too big. Soft cotton. Joel’s, clearly.

You know it before you even touch it. You’ve smelled it on him, in the air, in the kitchen. It's clean, yes—but it carries him.

Your hand trembles as you reach for the hem of your shirt. You strip slowly, peeling away the days-old clothes, layer by layer, like skin that no longer belongs to you.

You avoid the mirror.

You don’t want to see yourself like this—hollow-eyed, bruised, thin.

You step into the shower.

When the water hits you—hot, real—it almost breaks you. You brace a hand on the wall, forehead pressed to cool tile, body trembling under the weight of heat and memory.

You don’t cry.

You just breathe. Shallow, shaky. Like you’re still hiding in the woods.

When you finish, you dry off and reach for the clothes. You pull on the underwear—too loose. The sweatpants—soft, drawstring pulled tight. And then…

Joel’s shirt.

It slips over your body, down past your thighs, sleeves hanging low. You wrap your arms around yourself instinctively, inhaling the scent baked into the fabric.

You step out of the bathroom, warm skin wrapped in softness—Joel’s shirt, pulled from the hook behind the door. It’s not the one Tommy had folded for you. It’s not even one either of them offered.

You just… took it.

It hangs loose over your frame, the sleeves swallowing your hands. Paired with the sweatpants—drawstring cinched tight at your waist—you feel strangely small. Hidden. Safe.

You walk barefoot into the main room, fingers tucked into the hem of the shirt. Your hair is still damp, clinging to your neck.

Tommy’s sitting at the table, lacing up his boots. Jacket already on. About to leave.

Joel is leaning back in his chair, cradling a mug in one hand. His gaze finds you the moment you walk in—and stays there.

Not moving. Not blinking.

Tommy glances up at the sound of your footsteps.

You hesitate, arms tightening around yourself just slightly. “It’s… all a bit big but…” you say quietly, eyes flicking to him. “Uhm… thank you, Tommy.”

His gaze dips over the outfit—familiar fabric. Joel’s shirt. “No problem, Bambi,” he says with a soft smile. “We’ll find you proper clothes real soon.”

Joel doesn’t say anything.

But you feel his attention settle on the shirt. The way it drapes over your frame. The way you picked his without being told. Something shifts in his eyes, he’s got that look again—like you’re already his, and now you’ve confirmed it.

He sets his mug down and rises to his feet slowly.

“You hungry?” he asks, voice calm. “We kept your plate.”

You nod.

And when he walks past you to reheat the food, his hand brushes gently along your back. Barely there.

You eat slowly, the warmth of the food grounding you more than you expect.

The cabin feels quiet this morning. Still. The kind of stillness that hints at routine, at repetition. You watch as Tommy zips up his jacket, slings a rifle over his shoulder like it’s second nature.

He moves with practiced rhythm. Comfortable. Like he’s done this a hundred times before.

And you wonder—what is this?

What do they do all day?

How far do they go?

Where do you fit into that rhythm?

You swallow your bite, fingers tightening slightly around your fork.

“Tommy?” you ask, voice quiet, gentle—like it’s not even your place to know where he goes.

He turns, halfway to the door. “Yeah?”

You hesitate for a moment.

“Where are you going?”

He pauses, then lets out a small breath, turning fully to face you.

“Just out on a run,” he says. “Checkin’ the perimeter, makin’ sure the traps are still set. Gotta keep this place safe.”

You nod, looking down again.

It’s not the answer that matters. It’s the fact that you asked.

Joel glances at you from across the room, something flickering in his expression. You don’t see it—but Tommy does.

“Joel’ll stay with you,” Tommy adds after a beat. “You’ll be alright.”

You nod again, smaller this time.

Joel, still watching, sets your reheated plate down in front of you and murmurs, “You can ask things like that, y’know.”

You blink up at him.

Joel’s voice is warm. Steady. But there’s a weight under it.

“You live here now, Bambi,” he says. “That makes this your place too.”

And something about that… feels final.

The door clicks shut behind Tommy, and for the first time since last night—it’s just you and Joel.

The quiet returns, thicker now. It settles in the cabin like fog.

Joel clears his throat as he moves to the sink, rinsing your empty plate. “You eat good?”

You nod. “Yeah. Thank you.”

He glances at you over his shoulder. “You’re polite. That’s good.”

You don’t know how to respond to that.

He dries his hands and leans against the counter, just watching you for a moment. Not in a way that makes you shrink—more like he’s thinking something he’s not saying.

Then, his voice lowers slightly. “You look better.”

You blink up at him.

“In clean clothes,” he adds, gesturing to the shirt you took. “In mine.”

Your face warms. You hug your arms across your stomach.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to take it.”

He shakes his head, stepping toward you. “Don’t be sorry. I like it.”

Joel’s closer now, only a few feet away.

The fire cracks gently. Rain starts tapping at the windows. The outside world dulls, disappears.

“You tired?” he asks.

You shrug. “A little.”

Joel nods toward the couch. “Wanna rest? I’ll sit with you a while. Won’t talk if you don’t want me to.”

You hesitate.

But you nod.

He sits first, leaning back on the cushions, legs spread. He pats the space beside him.

“C’mere.”

You sit beside him slowly, careful not to brush too close. But the couch is small, and your shoulder rests against his bicep.

His warmth seeps into you.

His scent as well.

You don’t speak. You just sit there, soaking in the quiet.

And then—Joel shifts slightly.

His hand lifts. Not fast, not forceful. Just rises and curls gently over the back of your neck. His thumb brushes the edge of your jaw.

You turn your head slightly, looking up at him.

“You okay?” he asks, voice lower now. Almost a whisper.

You nod. “Mhm.”

And you mean it.

For the first time in a long time, you feel okay.

Joel leans in just enough that you feel his breath against your temple.

“You don’t ever have to be scared with me.”

He presses a kiss to your temple. Barely.

And it lingers longer than it should.

Joel's hand remains at the back of your neck, thumb brushing absentmindedly at your hairline, slow and steady. The kind of touch meant to soothe. But it does more than that.

It roots you. Tethers you. Pulls you closer to something you don’t quite understand yet.

You don’t think about it when you shift. Just a soft movement—turning into him, resting your temple against his chest.

You didn’t mean to invite anything.

But Joel took it as one.

Then his arm wraps around your waist, firm and deliberate, pulling you the rest of the way in until you’re practically in his lap.

Your thighs straddle his. His palm spreads across the small of your back.

You freeze for a moment—not out of fear, but surprise. Your hands rest flat on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath them.

Joel doesn’t move.

He just watches you. His eyes low. Lidded. Dark.

“You okay?” he asks again, voice like gravel and smoke.

You nod, slower this time.

“Good,” he says.

His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing just under your eye. His gaze flicks across your face—your lips, your throat, your lashes. He’s not pretending to be subtle anymore.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

You swallow.

His fingers trail along your jaw, then down to your collarbone—his shirt hanging off one shoulder, slipping just enough to expose skin.

He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t push, but his grip on your waist tightens.

And when he leans in again—closer this time, his nose brushing your cheek—he whispers,

“Feel good, don’t it? Bein’ taken care of?”

You nod before you realize you’re doing it.

Joel smiles at that, knowing what he’s causing you while you’re sitting on him. The second your body suddenly starts reacting, he clocks it.

Not to mock you or shame you. He uses it to train you.

You feel… safe. Anchored.

But also— Something else.

A pressure. A warmth that’s begun to build under your skin. Between your thighs. Inside you.

You shift again, just a little.

And that’s when you feel it.

Him.

Hard. Solid beneath you.

Your breath hitches, and your thighs instinctively press together over his. Your body feels strange—hot, sensitive, like it’s humming. And you don’t understand it fully. But it’s there.

Joel doesn’t move.

His voice cuts through the silence, his voice—low, rough around the edges- curls into your ear like smoke. “Somethin’ bothering you, Bambi?”

You blink slowly, your brow furrowing.

You don’t want to lie.

So you nod. Just once. Tiny.

Joel hums quietly as his palm strokes slowly down your spine.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I thought so.”

You shift again, uncomfortable, but not wanting to leave. Wanting something else. Something you don’t have a name for.

Joel tilts his head, eyes dragging over your flushed cheeks, parted lips.

“Need me to take care of that, Bambi?”

You glance up, eyes wide, searching his face for the answer—because you’re not sure what’s happening to your body, only that it feels overwhelming.

You’re hoping he knows the answer.

Because you surely don’t.

So you nod again, causing Joel to smile.

He takes your hand gently and guides it down, resting it over the hard line straining beneath his jeans. The heat of him throbs through the fabric, solid and undeniable.

“Feel what you do to me?” he asks, voice low, roughened with restraint.

You blink, fingers twitching slightly against the pressure. You can’t speak. You just look at him—uncertain, dazed.

Joel’s hips roll up, slow and heavy, grinding against your palm as his grip tightens on your wrist.

You gasp—sharp and surprised—and immediately drop your gaze, cheeks burning.

He catches your chin with two fingers, tilting your face back to his.

“Uh-uh,” he murmurs. “No shame in that.”

You look up at him, breath shaky, and he smiles again—gently, reassuring.

“Your body’s reactin’ the same way to me. That’s a good thing, baby.”

His hand drifts lower, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers tracing over your bare stomach. Then lower past the waistband of your sweatpants.

“You’re not doin’ anything wrong. You’re just learnin’. I’ll teach you everything—nice and slow.”

He moves slowly.

And when his fingers slip past the edge of your panties, you tense—not from fear, but from something deeper. Something pulling.

“Shhh,” he soothes. “That’s it. Just let me.”

His hand finds the warmth between your legs—already sticky, slick, and aching. And he groans under his breath.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You really needed this, didn’t you, Bambi?”

You whimper. Your hips twitch without your permission.

He strokes you slowly, just enough to build the pressure. Drawing circles with enough pressure.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispers against your temple. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

Your hands clutch his shoulders, and your voice breaks on a breathy plea:

“Please—Joel—please…”

And god, he loves it.

His lips curl against your skin.“There she is,” he murmurs, picking up the pace just enough to make your thighs shake. “Beggin’ so sweet. Didn’t even have to teach you.”

You press your face against his neck, trying to stay quiet, but every touch burns. Every movement tightens something inside you that you didn’t know was waiting.

Joel keeps whispering.

“That’s it, Bambi. Doing so good for me”

His fingers slide lower—slick, wet, so sensitive that your hips jolt. He strokes you slowly, gently, like he’s memorizing your every twitch.

“There you go, baby,” he whispers, “You just stay with me. Let me feel how good you are.”

You make a sound, quiet and shaky at first. But when his fingers circle just right, a soft moan escapes before you can stop it.

Joel groans at the sound. “Goddamn.”

You press your face against his neck, biting your lip, but the sounds keep slipping out—wet, breathless, desperate little whimpers that only make him touch you deeper, slower.

And outside—

Tommy freezes halfway up the porch steps.

He hears it.

Muffled, but clear.

Your voice.

High and soft and needy.

A moan. Then another. The kind of sound no one makes unless someone’s got their hand deep between their legs—and Tommy knows exactly what Joel is doing with you

He stands there, jaw tight, heart pounding. Heat spreading beneath his ribs… and lower.

Joel beat him to it.

He fucking knew it would happen. Knew Joel was soft on you the moment you stepped out in his clothes, all wide eyes and soft thank-yous. But he didn’t think Joel would take it this soon.

And now, standing on the other side of the door, Tommy hears you cry out softly again.

He presses a hand against the wall beside the door. Breath heavy. His cock throbs behind the zipper of his jeans.

Fucking Joel.

A growl curls in his chest, low and frustrated. He wants to be the one inside. He wants to see your face. He wants to hear you say his name like that.

And next time— He will.

⟡──────────────⟡

Guess next time it's Tommy's turn...

✧ reblogs, likes & comments are deeply appreciated ♡

✧ do not repost, copy, or translate my work

tag list: @heavens-whore @ilovetoomanymen @chick66i @grayandthyme @codenamekitten @millersdoll @med494 @pedrosgirl03 @starfruitlily @fan-fiction-floozy @darknight3904 @anitraivx @sweaters-and-socks @umadirectioner (just ask in the comments and you'll be added loves)

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pinkiemachine · 5 months ago

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I am still waiting, Hishe…

Kal: Bruce, there you are — what in the world?

Bruce: Hey Kal.

Kal: Who are all these kids?!

Bruce: My Bat Family. I’m a dad now.

Kal: Since when?!

Bruce: Since 1940. Try to keep up.

Kal: I thought it was just the one! Hi, Nightwing.

Dick: Hi Superman! Yeah, I have siblings now.

Kal: And how’s that working out?

Dick: Most of us have died at least once.

Kal: …What?

Bruce: Hey Kal, check it out. This one’s super smart, and we have matching coffee mugs.

Tim: :)

Bruce: This one…

Cass: …

Bruce: Actually, this one scares me. And this one glows in the dark! Heheh!

Duke: :D

Kal: I can see that…

Damian: Father, I’m hungry. When are we having dinner?

Bruce: How many criminals have you caught today?

Damian: *holds up three villains* Is this sufficient?

Bruce: Eh, it’s good enough. Here. *tosses him a tofu hotdog, like just the dog part* Keep working on it. Three more and you get the bun.

Kal: *horrified silence*

Dick: Hmph! When I was Robin, I could catch at least five criminals before dinner.

Tim: Oh my gosh, Dick, no one cares!

Jason: No one cares about anything in this stinkin’ family. Where were you all when I died, huh?!

Everyone: *groan*

Damian: Quit being such a drama queen, Todd! It’s not like losing your life is the end of the world!

Tim: Yeah!

Damian: You shut up. The only thing you’ve ever lost is your spleen.

Duke: And his parents.

Everyone except Damian: *parental trauma* AH!

Bruce: I told you never to mention that!

Kal: I can’t believe what I’m watching… Does Alfred know about this?!

Bruce: Yeah, totally, he’s cool with it.

Kal: *narrowing his eyes* I have a very hard time believing that.

Bruce: Well, he works for me, so shut up.

Kal: What about Catwoman?! Does Catwoman know about this?!

Bruce: *nervous* Um… well…

Damian: *suspicious* Who’s Catwoman?

Bruce: *very nervous* No one.

Dick: Oh, he is so dating Catwoman!

Tim: Why didn’t you tell us?!

Jason: What if we don’t want a step-mom, huh?!

Bruce: Woah, hold on now —

Duke: Look, you’re upsetting Batgirl!

Cass: …

Bruce: Alright, that’s enough! We’re not gonna talk about this anymore! Because —

Everyone: *annoyed* — you’re Batman!

Bruce: No! Because I said so! …And also, yes, because I’m Batman! Cause Batman says so!

Kal: *smirking* More like because you’re Bat-Dad.

Bruce: >:(

Kal: And hey, where’s Barbara? I thought she was Batgirl?

Bruce: *nervous* She was…

Kal: …Bruce, what did you do?

Dick: Oh, don’t worry, Superman, Barbara’s fine.

Kal: Oh, thank goodness.

Jason: She’s just paralysed from the waste down.

Kal: Bruce!

Bruce: It wasn’t my fault! She’s not even technicially my kid!

Kal: Bruce…

Bruce: Oh, don’t you “Bruce” me. I’ll “Bruce” you… “Bruce” you in the face.

Kal: Okay, that’s it, you are not allowed to find any more sidekicks starting right now!

Bruce: *holding up Harper* What about this one?

Kal: No!

Bruce: *holding up Spoiler* This one still has a parent — I can just be a mentor.

Kal: No!

Bruce: Well, gee, Kal, what am I supposed to do with all the orphans in Gotham, then, huh?!

Kal: Do you hear yourself right now?

Bruce: I have a system, Kal!

Kal: That’s it! There’s only way to solve this!

*Superman grabs Batman, and they fly off*

*Batman then appears on the couch in Therapist Harley Quinn’s office from the new Batman animated show*

Harley: Alright, why don’t you start by telling me about your childhood.

Batman: *leans over* Do I have a story for you.

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senascoop · 6 months ago

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ꣀ꣒ ASKING ENHYPEN — HOW MANY KIDS THEY WANT? . . 엔하이펜 ☁︎

pairing, enhypen × afab reader . . . genre, scenario(s), fluff, reactions . . . word count, 190-240 each . . . [LIBRARY]

. , LEE HEESEUNG ☁︎ 이희승 !

“Hee,” you called quietly, sipping on your hot chocolate while the warmth permeated the serene void between you. You leaned against the armrest and kept watching Heeseung as he scrolled through social media to the sound of his almost inaudible humming amidst the stillness of the room. “You never told me how many kids you want,” you said as if you really were trying to find out.

Heeseung paused for a moment before a slow smile spread over his face, his eyes wide and animated as he put his phone down. It was clear that he had been waiting for this question. “Three. Definitely,” he said, nodding with the kind of certainty one might expect after years of pondering. You arched your brow, trying not to laugh. “But then what's it going to be like when you have three mini Heeseungs running wild? A nightmare,” you stated, looking at him impassively.

His eyes widened, and he shot you a mock parody glare that could only be described as mild offense. “What did you just say?” He said, leaning in closer and speaking as though utterly astonished. You just couldn't help it anymore: a laugh escaped you in the form of a chesty giggle, and you leaned back, confiding in your hot chocolate for salvation. “I'm just kidding!” you squeaked through the giggles.

. , PARK JONGSEONG ☁︎ 박종성 !

“Baby, how many kids do you want?” you asked, slipping your arms around Jay’s waist from behind, your chin resting on his shoulder as he stirred the steaming pot of noodles on the stove. “Did my cooking skills impress you that much?” he teased, glancing at you with a smirk. His free hand reached down to pat yours, resting comfortably on his stomach.

You laughed softly. “Maybe,” you admitted, your voice warm with affection. “But I’m serious. How many kids do you want?” Jay paused, the sound of bubbling noodles filling the momentary silence. His gaze grew thoughtful as he tilted his head slightly. “Two,” he said confidently, his tone steady. “It’d be nice to have one of each—a boy and a girl. Balance, you know?”

You grinned, nuzzling closer. “What if they’re both boys? Or both girls?” you pressed, curious to hear his answer. Jay hummed, as if mulling it over, before turning off the stove and setting the spoon down. He spun around in your arms to face you, his expression playful yet soft. “Honestly?” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “As long as they’re healthy, I couldn’t care less. But if they’re both boys…” He paused, raising an eyebrow. “Double trouble.”

You giggled, swatting his chest lightly. “And if they’re both girls?” He grinned, pulling you closer. “Guess I’ll just be outnumbered, won’t I?”

. , SIM JAEYUN ☁︎ 심재윤 !

“How many kids do you want?” you asked, casually breaking the silence while the two of you sat tangled on the couch, the light of the television casting shadows. His gaze dropped unstably from the screen to you, amusement winking in constricted lines across his brow of confusion. “We already have one: Layla,” he declared, pointing to the dog stretched across his lap, her head comfortably laid on his thigh.

Rolling your eyes, you let out a huff. “Jake. I meant a human baby,” you explained, resting your chin on his shoulder to gauge his expression. He hesitated in thought, his fingers mindlessly playing with Layla's ear. “One is enough,” he said offhandedly between mouthfuls of popcorn, as though deciding the fate of your entire future after that bite.

For a moment, you grinned in mock disbelief. “One? Just like that? What if I want two?” He just turned to you, slipping into a devilish smile. “One is a smart number. Two? Think of the double the mess and double the drama. One? We can keep ‘em outnumbered,” he explained in a teasing tone, though his eyes sparkled with affection.

. , PARK SUNGHOON ☁︎ 박성훈 !

“Hey Hoon,” you said rather casually, tracing invisible patterns on the couch while leaning against him. “In the future when we have kids...would you want a boy or a girl?”

Sunghoon felt his face flush immediately; it was as if he had not expected you to ask the question. He nervously cleared his throat and shifted a little. “Is this a test?” he asked in a higher-than-usual voice. You could see the moment of hesitation that was thinking there could be something to it-a faint worry on the face of being caught in trickery, because he knew you would ask many innocent questions previously that often spiraled into an argument.

You shook your head, smiling and trying to play it light. “Don't worry, I'm just curious.” He paused for a second, biting his lip, returned his gaze to you, carefully considering his answer. “A girl...?” he murmured, a slight tremble in his voice. There was something very sweet about him being shy; you liked it. “A girl, huh? Well, I like that. Sometimes I think I'd like to ask you a real question: how many kids do you want?”

This caught Sunghoon off guard again because of your sudden shift; he blinked at this. He took a second, his face still a little flushed as he whispered slowly, “Umm... probably... one...?” you blinked, trying not to laugh at how serious he was about it. “Just one? You aren't even considering the option of having a second or a third in the future?” He shrugged, his expression softening as he leaned closer. “One should suffice for me, especially if it is a girl."

. , KIM SUNOO ☁︎ 김수누 !

“Babe...” you started, your voice soft with a hint of nervousness as you gazed at Sunoo, who was casually sipping his water. You felt a flutter in your chest, wondering how he'd respond. “How many kids do you want in the future?” Sunoo didn’t even hesitate. His eyes twinkled as he smiled at you, the corners of his lips lifting in that signature grin that always made your heart skip. With a playful sparkle in his eyes, he held up three fingers, still holding his bottle of water, clearly not bothered by the question at all.

You raised an eyebrow, amused by how easily he had the answer ready. “Three?” you repeated, trying to hide your smile. It was clear he’d thought about this a lot, and you couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly he was embracing the idea of the future with you. “Yep, three,” he confirmed, his grin widening as he swallowed the water. He set the bottle down and nudged your shoulder, leaning in closer. “You know, one for you, one for me, and one for us. Perfect team.”

Your heart melted at his words, and you leaned into him, feeling a warmth spread through you. Sunoo was everything you could ever want, and the thought of a future with him felt like a dream come true.

. , YANG JUNGWON ☁︎ 양정원 !

Jungwon wasn’t surprised by your random question—it was just another one of those things you did. As you straddled his lap on the couch, your fingers brushing through his hair, you asked casually, “How many kids do you want?” He paused, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile before planting a quick peck on your lips. “One,” he muttered against your mouth, as if it was the most natural answer.

You blinked, taken aback. “That’s it?” you asked, genuinely curious. You expected something a little more ambitious, but there he was, casually dropping his answer like it was no big deal. Jungwon stifled a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Why?” he asked, genuinely curious at your reaction. You puffed out your cheeks in mock frustration. “Why not more? I mean, we’re both working, we can afford it,” you reasoned, trying to make your case.

He nodded, a soft smile still playing at the corners of his lips. “True,” he agreed. “But... the living costs, you know?” You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could get the words out, he pulled you closer, his hands gently resting on your hips. “One is still enough, sweetie,” he whispered, his tone light but affectionate. The sincerity in his eyes melted your protest away. “Fine,” you muttered, resting your forehead against his. “I guess one sounds perfect with you.”

. , NISHIMURA RIKI ☁︎ 리키 !

“Riki, how many kids do you want to have?” you asked casually, mushing against his chest, your arms lazily around his neck in your usual cuddle contentment. His hands are frozen. Random shapes traced on your back now are interrupted mid-motion. Before you could think, he switched positions: he flipped you onto your back and pinned you beneath him in one smooth shift.

“What are you doing?” you squeaked, heart thumping as his dark eyes watched yours. That was when he came closer, softly brushing a stray strand of hair from your face with a teasing smirk that left your stomach feeling some weird emotion. “We just became adults and you are already talking about babies?” he tormented in low teasing tones, the corners of his mouth twitching to stop a laughter. “You're bold, you know that.”

You opened and moved to argue, but he lowered his mouth and pressed a soft, deliberate kiss against your lips. Not to shut you up—this was the kind of kiss that turned your thoughts into mush and spread bright warmth across your cheeks. He pulled away just enough to talk, lips pressed close to yours, and whispered, “Why have kids when we can have fun?”

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ynifrey · 1 month ago

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no thoughts just taking anime!dante down a peg.

---

pristine white locks fell into his face as red eyes peered back at you, with the black headboard behind him he almost look like a painting. dante stared at you amused. it was annoying how he was the one tied up and it felt like he had the upper hand.

"so," dante tilted his head playfully, "you are aware that i can break out of these right?" he pulled at the cuffs hanging above his head experimentally.

you sighed, "yes, i am aware of your freakish strength, thanks for asking. but you'll be obedient for me, won't you?"

"well when you sweet talk me like that, how can i say no?"

he was naked sitting on the bed legs crossed, all you did was restrain him and he was already at half-mast.

from your place infront of him, your eyes wandered over his body contemplating your next move.

"want a picture?" dante mused.

you smirked, "trust, i'll be taking alot of those."

"yeah when im old and gray because ive sat here and i think the grandparents next door are having more action than me."

"oh yeah?"

---

"ngh! i just came..! so s-stop pounding!" ribbons of cum splattered on his already coated chest yet you didn't stop, the thought didn't even cross your mind. you were no where near done with him and that smart mouth.

how many rounds was it now? dante lost track after the first five.

"you know, your dicks been staying soft while i fuck you. maybe i've been using your ass so much your body knows you don't need your dick anymore."

"f-fuck you," dante spat brokenly as you continued pistoning into him like he was a toy. his cock laid limp on his abs, weakly spurting in a pool of cum. his body shook with the after shocks of his orgasm a few moments ago.

the headboard creaked and banged against the wall in rhythm with your thrusts. "not getting enough play still? should i amp it up? you always loved a thrill, dante."

"n-no, please! dont turn it on [name], i swear you'll break me-!" his plea fell on deaf ears as you flipped the switch on the bullet vibrator taped on his shaft.

"ohh fuck!" he screamed, dantes arms flexed in his restrains, it took all his willpower to not pull through the restrains and turn off the intense stimulation.

"there we go," you smirked. "see, when i dig into your pussy the cum just keeps flying out."

"'m close! gonna cum again!" you were surprised dante still had cum left in him.

"oh wait before you do i almost forgot!" you stopped your assault on him for just a moment to lean over to the bedside desk and grab your polaroid camera.

you grabbed him by his hair like he was an animal you conquered and he looked positively debauched to say the least.

"smile!"

the camera flashed in time for dantes first dry orgasm to be on record.

#dante x reader #sub dante #dmc x reader #anime dante x reader #dante sparda x reader #dante x gn reader #dante x male reader #credit to nugget bun nageya-san #used two lines cuz they screamed dante

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cherrygirlfriend · 2 months ago

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─── YOU'VE GOT MAIL .ᐟ

...or him dreaming of you.

★ pairing.ᐟ frat!rafe x nerd!reader

★ summary.ᐟ rafe cameron is the golden boy of kildare university; certified frat boy, captain of the football team, relentless party animal with lines of girls to sleep with.

reader couldn't be more different; while she has the best grades in the whole school, she suffers from social anxiety disorder, and her social life is limited to her three best friends and the cat she secretly snuck into her dorm room.

both of them decide to join the anonymous chatroom for their campus, and start talking to one another, a friendship starting to form between the two; but neither of them know how different the other is.

★ author's note.ᐟ this is a bit of a fluffy filler… i have something exciting coming for them it makes me giggle!!

YOU'VE GOT MAIL!

the fall break was coming up, and so far, the only plan you had was to crash over at vivian's place, fully aware that you were less than welcome to go home to your parents. you were on your laptop, your messages with MalachiConstant open on KildareUChats.

YOU: you got any plans for over the break?

MalachiConstant: yeah, a bunch of us are going to our buddy's lakehouse.

YOU: geez, i'm jealous.

MalachiConstant: well i'd invite you to tag along but i'm pretty sure your response would be 'i'd rather die'

YOU: you know me so well, vonnegut. YOU: nah, my plan is to go to my friends' place, we're just gonna spend the entire week playing video games and watching really bad romcoms while eating half our bodyweight in junk food.

MalachiConstant: and is the cat coming too?

you chuckled, looking to angel who was currently munching on her dinner, before turning back to your laptop.

YOU: nah, i got a catsitter. my friend's mom is allergic.

MalachiConstant: damn, cat-free and everything. MalachiConstant: don't do anything i wouldn't do poe

YOU: i don't think there's much you wouldn't do. YOU: i still remember you telling me about diving off a roof into a pool.

MalachiConstant: hey, i used to take swimming lessons. i was a pro at work

YOU: and also under a nice amount of promilles.

MalachiConstant: someone's just jealous because she doesn't have the balls to dive off a roof.

YOU: let's not get it twisted. i'm smart enough to not dive off a roof.

you and vivian were studying in the library for an exam, when she suddenly spoke up. "so… i have some news." vivian looked at you with pursed lips, making you instantly aware that whatever her news was, it would not be good.

"what is it, viv?" you asked, trying not to show to the girl how nervous you were. "come on, spit it out."

"soo... topper kind of invited me to come hang out with him over the break..." she tapped the rubber end of her pencil against the desk. "alright...?" you questioned, your brows furrowed. "what's so bad about that?"

"it's for the whole week." vivian cleared her throat, "at his family's lake house..."

"viv!" you groaned in exasperation, "we have plans. you told him no, right? that we were hanging out for the break?"

"well..." she looked down, doing everything to keep her eyes anywhere but on your face, "i kind of said i'd talk to you about it..."

"i can't believe you." you scoffed, "you're ditching me. you know the crap i go through when i go home and you're-"

"no, it's not like that!" your best friend interrupted, putting her hand on your arm as a way to calm you down. "i told him that i couldn't do it because i was gonna hang out with you, but then he told me to bring you along. and he said i can bring zainab and emilia along, too. zainab said she couldn't make it, but em is fully in."

you shook your head, letting out a soft scoff, "vivian, you know how bad my anxiety is. spending a week with a bunch of strangers sounds like my worst nightmare."

"hear me out." vivian insisted, "most of the football team is gonna be there. which means that your online boyfriend is also likely gonna be there."

"so?"

"so you have a chance to finally find out your mystery guy's identity! then you'll fall in love, get married and have a bunch of babies who'll call me auntie viv and i'll secretly buy them beer when they're too young to buy it themselves."

"i'm seriously starting to think that you don't have any morals."

"i'm dead inside." the pink-haired girl shrugged her shoulders, "so? are you in?"

"what makes you think i want to know the identity of the dude?"

"the fact that you get all giggly whenever your damn phone lights up like you're a middle schooler passing notes with your crush. you wanna be with him, don't you? you're so much more open, so much happier than you were BFB."

"BFB?"

"before frat boy." vivian grinned at her own wit, softly nudging your arm, "you totally have the hots for him."

"no one says that anymore." you rolled your eyes, fiddling with the edge of a sheet of paper, "i'm nervous. what if he doesn't like me?"

"girl, shut up." vivian let out a frustrated groan, "i've seen the messages you send each other. it's like the online version of eye-fucking someone. seriously, you two might as well be sexting, and that would somehow be less couple-y than the shit you have going on now."

"we're not that bad!" you exclaim in feigned offense, making vivian lift her brows, "not that bad? what did the message he sent you last night say again... something about dreaming about just staring into your eyes. him asking you to describe how they look just so it could be accurate?"

you couldn't help but feel your cheeks starting to burn as you thought back to the messages you'd been exchanging the night before.

YOU: i'm currently looking up at the stars. YOU: i actually took an astronomy class a while back!

MalachiConstant: of course you did, nerd. MalachiConstant: you know what'd be nice?

YOU: i'm sure you'll tell me!

MalachiConstant: ha ha. MalachiConstant: i wanna look at the stars with you, poe. i can picture you womansplaining all the constellations and shit.

YOU: aww, that's weirdly kinda sweet. YOU: who are you and what have you done with vonnegut boy?

MalachiConstant: really appreciate how seriously you're taking this MalachiConstant: i dream of you sometimes, you know

YOU: oh? YOU: what do you dream about?

MalachiConstant: all kinds of sappy shit MalachiConstant: i dream of just staring into your eyes MalachiConstant: i'm pretty sure your eyes are gorgeous

YOU: good theory. you don't even know what they look like. does that line seriously work on any girls?

MalachiConstant: maybe you should describe them to me.

you bit down on your bottom lip, vivian looking at you with an expectant look on her face, "he likes you, sweetie. and he's still gonna like you when he finds out who you really are. if he doesn't, then he's a fucking idiot."

"viv-"

"say yes. say that you'll come. what do you have to lose?"

letting out a sigh, you shook your head, vivian looking at you with a pleading look in her eyes. "i hate you, viv."

"is that a yes?"

"yeah." you rolled your eyes, "it's a yes."

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venmondiese · 2 months ago

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(UN)WANTED DESIRES

-ˋˏ| summary: Aemond hasn't consummated his marriage with his wife, and he doesn't plan to.

✧ | Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!Original Female Character

✧ | word count: 2.2k

✧ | Warnings: MDNI 18+, masturbation (m), age gap (aemond is older than his wife), aemond is definitely a perv....

✧ | notes: to the last day of age gap april.... here's my offer to yall... obviously everyone is of age

“YOU MISSED SUPPER” Her words to him are not unfamiliar, Aemond was her spouse after all. He had grown to welcome her presence in his life.

He had a thick book on his lap, as he read in his chmabers mostly alone at this hour. Aemond took no great interest in her, even if he was a dutiful husband. Almost dutiful.

Younger than him, of only twenty years of life. He wasn’t much older, yet old enough for him to feel strange.

She was what tales would call a little lady of the tower, living mostly protected by her parents, in a little castle and away from the real world. He even knew her first kiss had been at her wedding with him, giving him a peck rather than a proper kiss for someone her age.

“I apologise” he mutters, his index finger against his lips as he then turns to face her. He was never harsh with her, instead trying his best to be gentle “You ate alone?”

“yes” her tone is soft as she nods. She sometimes hanged around his chambers, sewing sat in the couch or reading a book alongside him.

“Send a servant to remind me” he says reflecting and he adds. “I can lose track of time. I didn't mean to keep you waiting.”

“It was okay, do not trouble yourself…”

The two of them had known each other for… maybe four months. Or five, he couldn’t recall. She was quite the lady, smart and brilliant with people, yet cautious enough. He thought of her as a kitten, or maybe a bunny, but he wasn’t as gentle with animals, or with someone sweet like her.

Aemond leaves the book on the little table nearby, and he stands up, to serve himself more wine and serve his wife some as well.

“What are you reading?” her tone is lively.

“Something about Oldtown. I doubt it would be of your interest. It is a bit dull to your taste” he says plainly.

When he looks at her, he sees that she was wearing that slightly sheer nightgown. It was more like a robe, but he truly didn’t know of what gowns she owned for the night. He had barely slept by her side, he could count their nights together with his hand.

“I’ll serve you some wine.” He says softly. “You must be shivering from the cold”

He can hear the soft paddling of the feet against the cold stone of the floor, as she turns to watch him.

“I…” the words start softly, as if gaining courage. “Husband, we… we have been married for almost three moons”

He hums, taking another cup, filling it with wine. Then he fills the other, as he hears the stammering.

“and… we haven’t consummated the marriage, and it makes me wonder…”

“My lady…”

“It is lonely, and…”

“The castle is full of servants, and you have ladies-in-waiting.” He reminds me, not harshly, but somewhat gentle. “And you know you can confide in me with…”

He hears the soft sound the robe makes in the ground as she takes it off. He then learns of the not so innocent intentions.

He didn’t deem his wife capable of such things, yet here they were.

“Look, you are a lovely girl…” he sighs, rubbing his forehead slightly, leaving down the two cups of wine next to the jar. “But truly, there is no need for this.”

“There is!” she says in somewhat a loud tone, which makes him blink slightly.

“I am not a green boy, led by base desires with no control at all.” He starts solemnly, trying not to look at her bare body. “You don’t have to.”

“But I want to” he raises his eyebrows as her tone is slightly more desperate, getting closer to him rather quickly. She was trying every tactic she knew, he was sure.

Aemond isn’t exactly sure how his wife manages to get him sitting on the chair with her atop of him, in his lap. He could notice she was a bit self aware of being naked in front of him, surely because she was not used to it. He had never asked of her anything expected from marriage, barely acknowledging her presence in his life, his young and lively wife; yet she was eager to be his wife, to be truly his wife in the eyes of the Gods, for their marriage to be consummated.

If the situation wasn’t so serious for him, he’d be amused by the absurdity, rolling his eyes and chuckling. Instead, his eyes wander for a few moments on her body, taking in how soft she looks. She smells kind of nice, so she probably took a bath before coming here.

“I want you to” she says to him, leaning closer to him as he looks away for a moment, recomposing himself to not give in to the temptations “I am your wife.”

“You are my wife, but you forget that you are a maiden” His tone is not as warm (if it could even name it like that) “I have no intention of defiling you like some common whore.”

“I do not want to be a married maiden. I have a duty, to give your heirs and fulfill your desires… It is my duty before the Gods, for that’s why they invented marriage and…”

“Enough. Look, when the time comes for us to unite like man and wife, we will do it calmly and take our time. It will not be rushed, you hear me? I have respect for your times, for your innocence and purity. It is not an easy task for women to do what you are asking for…”

He can almost see how the gears turn behind her eyes, trying to understand his words and planning the next move. He wasn’t exactly sure why she was desperate all of the sudden, maybe because of court pressure, because it was dangerous to her position as his wife or even by the questions of his mother, Gods forbid.

He knew his wife was a pious lady, he had joined her in praying before eating, and how much she read, the Seven pointed Star or any other book. ‘Gods have granted us with the capability of learning and curiosity, and I do love to learn new things’ she had said to his questioning.

She was quick with movements, or perhaps he is a bit slower due to his exhaustion from the day, and the late hour. She takes his hand, her grip not strong but firm, as she moves his hands quickly to place them in her breasts.

The sudden touch, the feeling of her skin into his hands, the supple flesh as he could hear her soft sigh. She was, surprisingly, warm, unlike the coldness that the night brought.

“Don’t you find me desirable?” she begs softly, as she makes sure to press his hands on her flesh “not even a little bit?”

“Look…”

“Take me” she says, not in a demand, but in a desperate attempt. She moves his hand along with hers, trying to fondle her breasts and he followed the movement for a bit, enjoying how she whimpered slightly“Husband, please”

“It is not a matter of...” he says, taking his hands away “if I like you or not, it’s a principle. You are not ready.”

“I am! I am an old maiden already”

“You are not old…” he insists. “Go to bed, it will calm…”

“I have a duty to you” she says, taking his hands once again, pressing them against her breasts. “I want this. I am ready.” she says, yet he could see her hesitation.

“No. Enough.” He says, taking his hands away and standing up, grabbing her so she doesn’t fall, and leaving her on her feet. “It is not the moment. We’ll speak about, we’ll do many things before consummating our marriage. You might have a duty, to have my heirs. And it will happen, when I deem ready”

He leans to grab her robe, and extends it to her, taking a quick peek of her body but ultimately turning his gaze away “I will not repeat myself, go to your chambers. Rest well, wife” he says, not before sitting in his chair in front of the fire once again.

He can see her disappointment, as her face turns into that pout expression that women made involuntarily, as she puts on her robe before walking quickly away, closing the doors of his chambers.

He sighs, waiting a time or two before allowing himself to react properly.

He hisses softly, moving his hips slightly. Who would have thought. He thinks, almost amused.

His hand drifted down to the forming bulge on his breeches, as he thinks of how brazen his wife was. Taking off her robe, presenting herself nude to him as if to tempt him… she was witty, yet she lacked the experience.

His cock throbbed at the memory, the feeling of her skin against his hands, and how demanding she tried to be. Perhaps she was indeed ready, perhaps not. He has grown fond of her, and he knows how painful bedding could be. He wishes not to harm her in any way.

He unfastened his breeches with a bit of desperation, freeing his aching cock, already hard and as demanding of attention as his lady wife. He tries not to smirk, thinking how much this was what she wanted to see and feel. The tip was slightly reddish, swollen and getting slicker by the moment.

He moves his hand to stroke his dick, starting by the base, yet stroking all the length. He groaned, his head falling back at the exquisite sensation he needed so much.

He isn’t particularly fond of thinking of his wife in these moments, yet his mind drifts to her. Her nude body, how she presented herself to him, for his use and delight. He groaned loudly, stroking himself more firmly. It was driving him insane, she was driving him insane.

Even if he ached for it, he knew he could not fuck his wife, not yet. His balls grow heavy to the thought, but he remains firm in his position: not yet.

But how he wants to. He craves to have her under him and hear the whimpers she would let out. It drives him insane to think about it, because he had not even taken her on their wedding night, he simply discarded the bedding ceremony before it was even proposed, and sent her to sleep. It is a bittersweet feeling, but he knew that when he finally took her, it would be when she was ready, when he deem her capable to understand what the coupling entails. Until then… His hand will have to do.

“Fuck…” Aemond hisses. His cock jerked in his hand, the burning around the base feels delicious as he moves his hips to thrust softly into his own palm. His other hand wanders lower, grabbing his balls and tugging them just slightly, the way he liked.

He wondered if his wife would try to pleasure his cock, if she got the chance. He was pretty sure that the idea would surprise her, to use her hands or mouth to do so, but he would teach her about it. And he will die the day she makes her best to please him from her inexperience. It will drive him mad.

His mouth gapes open, as he mutters a series of ‘fucks’ and other words that he cannot even make sense of them. He groans at the debauched images of his head, his hips rocking forward as he fucked his own fist.

And more so while remembering the little scene she made, to get his attention. He wondered if she knew what she was asking for, if she knew what the implications of her request were. Maybe she did understand in theory, how it worked and what happened, but he knows it is very different in practice, and sometimes, like himself the first time, one could not be ready even when knowing.

But it doesn’t stop him from remembering her soft flesh against his fingers, how her body felt pressed against his as she squirmed on his lap for his attention. It drove him insane to know that, that she wanted him too. He remembers the feeling of her breasts, he thinks that perhaps it was an enjoyable, and new, feeling to her. His hand strokes his length faster, remembering how her nipples stiffened to his touch, at her wanton display of need.

If she was like this now, how would she be normally? He curses lowly, as his hand strokes him in swifter motions, as he can already feel his balls tighten up in the impending release.

He knows he won’t last longer, so he simply decides to indulge himself in his primal desires. In the aftermath, it will be shameful, he does know, but yet he will be back at it again.

He cums hard into his fist, the feeling making him go dizzy as he clenches his jaw in an attempt not to moan too loudly, because the tightness around his balls and base feels delicious, and his cock twitches on its own as it releases rope after rope of cum.

He leans back against the chair, panting hard after his orgasm. He cleans his hand with whatever he had in hand, and he lets his cock twitch with the last remains of his orgasm. His orgasm was as exquisite as his wife’s visit was.

He tucks himself into his breeches, as he knows that at least, one day, his fantasies will become a reality that he would explore with his beloved wife.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond smut #aemond x reader #aemond fanfic #house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #ewan mitchell

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strayingawayy · 5 months ago

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extra credit...

...the one where jisung is an infuriating fuck, but fuck, he's a hot fuck

aka playboy jisung x nerd reader (warnings: lil bit of crude language, swearing, sexual jokes)

you’re trying to study.

keyword: trying.

because sitting across from you, balancing a pencil on his nose and looking insufferably pleased with himself, is han jisung. self-proclaimed campus casanova, owner of a 3.0 gpa (on a good day), and, unfortunately or fortunately, your assigned partner for the semester-long research project and personal eye candy for this dramatically long assignment. not that you'd ever admit that last part.

"you know," he says, letting the pencil drop onto the open textbook that sits upside down, "for someone so smart, you make terrible life choices."

you give him a flat look. "oh? do elaborate."

"yeah," jisung leans in, smirking. "like choosing to study when you could be doing literally anything else. like, i don't know, your very handsome, very charming study partner."

you blink. "if i was out doing people, i'd find a better man to do, jisung."

"ouch," he clutches his chest, wincing and rubbing his palm across his deliriously large pec which you're sure should be supported by a bra by the end of the semester. "that actually hurt a little."

"good," you say, flipping a page with your thumb. "pain builds character."

"so does dating me." he grins. "think of all the life experience you'd gain. and don't think i didn't notice your little naruto reference there, nerd." he says the last word like it sits disgustingly on his tongue.

"think of all the brain cells i'd lose," you say, ignoring his comment on your brilliant taste in anime.

jisung snorts, tilting his chair back. "you wound me, nerd."

"good. maybe you'll be hurt enough to actually sit on your ass properly for once."

he does the exact opposite, kicking his feet up on the chair next to him. "seriously though," he says, stretching. "i don’t know why you work so hard. you already have the highest gpa in the class. what’s a few missed assignments?"

"excuse me?" you gape at him, flabbergasted. "a few missed assignments? jisung, that’s academic blasphemy, it's sacrilegious, it's lamentable. it-"

"see, this is why we balance each other out," he says, pointing at you and sighing, as though recovering from the heavy vocabulary you just dumped on him.

"you take things too seriously. i teach you how to chill, to fuck, to appreciate hot men and women, yada yada yada and in return, you help me get through this class without flunking out. win-win."

"more like i win, you leech off my intelligence," you mutter, but he just grins, completely unbothered as he runs a hand through his stupid, fluffy hair.

"so," he drawls, voice going slightly deeper, "if i get an A on this project, do i get extra credit?"

"no."

"damn. what if i get an A and take you out to dinner?"

you pause, leveling him with a look. "isn't that just you getting extra credit?"

jisung winks. "now you’re getting it."

"unbelievable," you mutter, shaking your head.

"but tempting," he teases.

you throw an eraser at him.

he catches it smoothly and fuck, he looks hot, still grinning. "baby steps, sweetheart. baby steps."

the nickname has you telling your foolish heart to be still before it ruins this one for you.

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bugixxxbunny · 2 months ago

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You're Superhero!

Description: just jammed backed full of anime men and how they show their heroism 😁 (Ranpo Edogawa, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Rin Itoshi, Nagi Seishiro, Bachira Meguru, Manjiro Sano (Mikey), and Ryomen Sukuna!)

Content Warning: (very basic smut) Impact play, thigh fucking, lazy sex, Cock warming, shower/bath sex, dry humping slight angst (if you squint) toxic relation (Fyodor) drug use, fingering etc.

Word count: 32,352

Bungo Stray Dogs

Ranpo Edogawa can't stand crime shows, but you love 'em every night after you both finish work, eat a full dinner, and bathe. You both settle into the queen bed; the soft black sheets envelop you two like a cozy hug. Ranpo grunts as it's Wednesday, meaning it's your turn to pick the channel. You always put on a cheesy crime documentary before you could even get a quarter of the way through. Ranpo would be whining, pointing out who did it.

You always praised him. The reason you loved putting these on was because you liked being amazed by your boyfriend. He never failed to impress you with how smart and keen the childish boy really is. Most people dream about superheroes like Superman and Spider-Man, but you always thought of Ranpo, how he warned you once not to walk in a certain direction or else your brand-new white dress would be ruined. Certainly enough, you had no speck of anything on your dress because of the route Ranpo encouraged you to take. How he automatically knows when you had a bad day and stops being so stubborn and becomes sweet and angelic He'd tuck you in and take the train to whatever takeout you wanted. Be patient he will might get lost.

Or how he knows exactly what makes you tick, what overstimulates you, or your version of right and wrong. So, three times a week, on Monday, Wednesday, and Sunday, when you get to pick what you both watch, you'd pick a crime show because you loved to show your superhero praise for all his magnificent deeds and hard work. You put on the crime show to rile up Ranpo. All the praise he receives goes straight to his heads,

"Whoa, Ranpo, you finished that one even faster!" You said, wide-eyed, you slowly moved closer each time he got it right. Your warm hand squeezed his right thigh; your hand basically felt like fire to the detective. His painfully hard cock strains against his boxers, making you giggle. "I hate when you do this. Can we just skip to the part where you give me an orgasm?" Ranpo whines, already knowing how your little game will end. "Such a good boy, Ranpo!" "Smartest boy," you snicker at the nonstop teasing that you couldn't help but let fall from your lips, pulling down his brown flannel boxers, letting his cock bounce free. It slaps his stomach softly before your lips suction cup onto his achy tip. "No, you always do this. I want more; he whines.

Ranpo shoves your head off. Tears of wanting and need, an insatiable desire, pool in his green eyes. "Mhm! Let me do what I want. I deserve it, m'yeah?" You sigh and press your plush thighs together, lifting your legs and giving your needy boyfriend permission. Ranpo smiles wide like a child in a candy store. He grabs your thighs with greed, pushing them to meet your chest, taking away your breath as he spits on the fat, sticking his stiffy right in-between where they meet. His hips snap immediately; his pace is sloppy and quick as he fucks your thighs. Ranpo's head snaps back as the underside of his cock brushes against your soaked panty-clawed pussy. "Fuck, it feels so good. I should let you pick what we watch every day," he moans out before painting your stomach and thighs in white. Maybe Ranpo didn't mind crime shows as much as he led on, but that's why he's your superhero; he wouldn't be afraid to pretend to not comprehend your little games only for you.

Fyodor Dostoevsky was the superhero in disguise. He reminded you that you weren't truly filthy and worthless because of your ability. He made use of you and understood you. Neither of you put a label on your relationship, leading him to refer to you as a subordinate. It was much more than that. Whenever Fyodor was cold, he looked to you, sucking your warmth like a vampire; he'd steal kisses from you like it was a prayer. At night, during the day, every moment of his life involved you. Even the more violent parts. You had already seen Fyodor as your knight in shining armor for saving you from a life of dread and self-hatred, saving you from yourself and the destruction of the harmful ability you wield. "Ангел, you look so darling in the dress," his voice purrs, making you snap out of your daze and bringing your attention to the present moment.

Fyodor claimed he had a job for you to do. He had bought you a new dress just for the occasion. It was white and had a pretty fluff. "It's real sheep's wool. You like it, Ангел?" "I love it, Fyodor. Now we match." His hand reached out, his fingers cold and clammy. They ran down your forearm before he linked his hands with your warm ones. Nothing was out of the ordinary except a feeling in your gut called doubt. You pushed the uneasy feeling down and smiled up at him. "Oh, little Ангел, I'm not done just yet." His left hand pushed your hair from your cheeks, clipping in a small hair charm. It was fragile and dainty, made from glass in the shape of a star.

"Beautiful," he said. His face wasn't full of emotion; it never was. His face had that simple smile, but that was Fyodor, your genius man. You tried to rationalize the conflicting thoughts and emotions you had as you both walked to the car.

The silence was comfortable. Had you been overthinking you and Fyodor's relationship? Maybe he was just your boss, and he didn't forgive you and the horrible sin of your ability. He wouldn't save you from the hell we call life. "Something is wrong," he spoke up. Fyodor always knew what you were thinking, but instead of lying, you remained silent. "Are we doubtful again, darling Ангел?" The silence emanating from you spoke volumes. "В свое время, мой ангел, твое желание будет исполнено, и я избавлю тебя от греха, который мы называем Способности."

You didn't understand, but you just turned your head to stare outside. You felt his cold hand lurk onto your thigh. "You may not understand now, but you will in time, my Ангел."

You finished the job smoothly, like normal. Fyodor didn't expect anything else from his favorite subordinate. "I'm tired," you mumble. You let your head fall into Fyodor's lap. "Let yourself rest; you won't be useful unless you're rested, darling Ангел." His thick accent lulled you to sleep to the sound of the rain tapping against the car window. His cold palm rubbing the scratches, that littler your skin from the assignment, the driver revving the engine, and the sway of the moving vehicle.

Once you both returned to the 'safe house,' as Fyodor called it, you continued to lie still. He picked you up and carried you inside to your room, placing you on the cushioned couch and sitting beside you again in comforting silence.

Once your eyelids fluttered open, that simple smile appeared on his pale face. "Did you have delightful dreams, Ангел?" Sitting up, he grasped your face. "Yes, Fyodor," you said, the doubt still evident in your features.

"Do you wish to know what was said on our trip to your assignment?" Your eyes widen before you could think clearly. You begin nodding, so eager for the knowledge. Whenever Fyodor spoke in Russian, it was to conceal something from you; you became so desperate to understand him you couldn't help but nod like it had become an instinct. It was. "В свое время, ангел мой, твое желание исполнится, и я освобожу тебя от греха, который мы называем Способностями means in time, my angel, your desire will be fulfilled, and I will free you from the sin that we call abilities.'" He purrs, stroking your face.

that's all you needed. Your only reason for Fyodor being your superhero, your savior, your reason to live, is in those few words you kiss him feverishly, unable to help yourself his hand adjusts you onto his lap, and the kiss was calculated and thought out on his part, yours were sloppy and messy, tugging at his coat and shirt. To feel his soft and delicate pale skin under the tips of your avidity fingers, he complies with your needs and lets you have at him. Your hands tug his clothes to the ground. before you can take off your own; his hands do it for you skillfully and quickly. "Won't you keep me warm, Ангел?" His cock was veining and somehow always cold no matter how hard and horny he was. You took your seat snugly on his cock while your fingers tug at his rosy nipples. Cock warming was his favorite. You couldn't help but indulge your superhero savior in disguise.

Nikolai Gogol makes you laugh That's his superpower. When you two are out and about, he tends to do an impersonation of the shopkeeper that kicked you both out of the store for being too 'rowdy,' or if you two are on a date, he won't stop repeating a phrase you thought was funny.

That smile. your smile is the only reason he allows himself to stay in his cage. Nikolai's superpowers don't stop at just jokes he will portal you flowers once a week all different types of roses, snowdrops and you couldn't even name them all they began to become bigger and bigger until you had to tell Nikolai to calm down on the flowers

his afternoons spent laying in-between your thighs these times are when he allows himself to be trapped like a bird in these wonderful emotions, he'd hum whatever song you had playing in the background while you both wasted the day playing games

today was different it was a sunny afternoon and you both sat on the beach the rays of suns tanning your skin and burning Nikolais you both were sandy along with being partially wet you had begun to pack up the beach bag wrapping up the towel and fitting them snuggly inside as Nikolai continued to run around and kick little kids sand castles down something you had already reprimanded him for "oh dove this was so fun!" Nikolai cheers, jumping on to your back and pulling you down with him into the dusty sand, causing a fit of giggles between the both of you. You roll on top of him. "Come on, wrap it up. I'm starving!" you say, catching your breath. "Where we eating, my lady?" he says, picking you and himself up from the sand. You wrap your arms around his neck as he swings you around in his arms. "Mhm, no clue. What are you in the mood for?" His eyes sparked with that mischievous look in them either he was going to quiz you or say something horny. "You're thinking dirty, aren't you!?" You bang on his chest, and he drops you onto the sand. "Pfft, you're no fun," Nikolai whines. His actions makes you roll your eyes.

once you both finally got home you pull Nikolai to the shower immediately sure the beach was fun but sitting with a sandy crotch wasn't. Nothing was perfectly easy with Nikolai around he whines and tried to pull away stating this was a way to free himself or some bullshit you shove him into the bath "strip" you groan exhaustion finally hitting as you peel off your clothing and mushy bathing suit from beneath Nikolai does the same not fighting much anymore you step into the heated shower and your body relaxes "come in its nice and warm" you let a soft sight as you let the water douse your scalp and run down your breasts he hoped in the shower a bit faster after getting to see this new expression of yours it was fascinating after a few minutes of feeling his gaze you open your eyes.

"Hi, honey you're staring" you teased wrapping your arms around his neck, the heat of the water and Nikolai makes you have that same expression from a few minutes ago. It wasn't a smile, or a laugh faces he had normally caused you to have this one was different more than different, it was special. A soft gasp leaves you lips as Nikolai hostess you up from your thighs "huh what are you doing Nikolai?" "relax my dove I want to make you feel good" he whispers into the shell of your ear. pushing your head to fall onto his shoulder his spongy tip smacks against your clit before he dives right in bottoming out quickly making drool seep from your puffy lips and ooze onto his shoulder. His thrusts are deep and considerate making you cream on his cock rather quickly he makes sure to keep that expression on your face for a while. You're hero enjoyed fits of laughter, but his secret power is relaxation.

Blue Lock

Rin Itoshi was the quiet superhero He was stoic with the meanest resting bitchface. He tried to be nonchalant, but once in a while he'd let the facade slip, like right now you sat in your shared bed teary-eyed. Rin had stayed out much later than he had planned training. You felt inferior because of his love of soccer/football, a race you weren't even trying to compete in. You wanted Rin too to continue the sport and be the best at it, but it came to a point where you questioned breaking up with him. Your weekends would be spent in the empty apartment alone, date nights like tonight forgotten. You broke down because this wasn't the Rin you fell in love with. The Rin you had fallen in love with was quiet. Snotty listened and never forgot a date; he was usually early.

A soft hand interrupted your thoughts. "m'sorry." His voice was quiet, and he stared in the opposite direction, his bangs brushing into his long lashes, concealing his eyes from your gaze. "Then stop doing it! The only time I see you is when you're sleeping!" "You know soccer/football is everything to me; I'm going to be the best striker." "I'm not asking you to forget soccer/football for me; I just want you to make time for me." The fat globs of tears continue to roll down your puffed out cheeks; they weren't tears of sadness anymore; they were of frustration. How could Rin not understand you just want him to be present? Rin sits down after taking a moment of silence to assess the situation. "Please don't cry; just talk to me. I'm listening."

That's what made Rin your superhero. He sat like that listening to your frustration of being alone, how you fought to keep his attention, and how you even considered ending things between the both of you. This info broke his heart. He had remembered everything about your likes and dislikes. He spent 5 minutes picking out the food you hated most from a dish, your favorite color—hell, he had even picked his cleats to be the same color. Anything you'd name, he knew it, the way you liked his hair he took in consideration your opinion for every aspect in his life. Rin loved you deeply; so how did he let himself become so stupid, that what ran in his head the whole time you vented about your frustrations, you were rooted into him even deeper than soccer/football, and it took you crying for him to realize this. He had felt so stupid all those times he turned on y'all's song, (Oh My Love by John Lennon). He could have been with you once you had quieted down, and the tears were all dried up.

He spoke, "Forgive me; I'm not good with speaking about emotions." This was his way of letting you know it was your time to listen. "I've never been good at doing stuff like this. I won't make an excuse because I don't want you to leave. I can only show in results, but you won't see them if you end it now." You watch as his eyes shut, his long lashes casting a shadow over his face. "What I'm trying to say is I'm sorry and give me a second chance to be better and let me make it up to you...please." You couldn't help but giggle; it made you feel good to know he was human too. Your hand brushes his bangs from his eyes. "Even if I really wanted to, I couldn't leave you not like this. I'd hate myself for it, When I leave, we will be old and gray." "Don't be ridiculous," Rin spoke, but the tips of his ears were a fiery red, and his eyes were shut tightly.

"Does our date have to be over now, or can I make it up to you?" You remain silent, but the look on your face Rin remembered that one too well. His body shifted to sit in front of you, his large hands groping your breasts in a familiar way. How you like it mostly how he likes it. His strong, lean frame towers over you. Rin didn't tend to apologize in words; when he did, they weren't as heroic as his actions. He lifted you onto his lap; his hips found their spot nestled between your thighs. His groping continued with hot, thick kisses smeared down your neck; his hands couldn't help but use your waist to smush your drenched panties against his rock-hard tent. Rin may not be a hero of many words, but his actions will always shine through.

Nagi Seishiro was a superhero to save everyone else from your bratty attitude. Most people would think Nagi would find you a bother, but he enjoys your snotty comebacks, pouty lips, and stubborn huffs. You were classified as not a bother to him; he didn't mind having you boss him around. Instead, he preferred it, meaning he wouldn't have to think. You'd end up yelling at him for not completing a task you hadn't even asked him to do and just expected of him.

Whenever you got like this, Nagi had to pull out the 3-method strategy. Method one: he'd have to practically smother you into calming down. "Nagi, off!" You flailed around trying to get the large man off you. Nagi just sighs and holds you tighter, making you whine impossibly louder. Your resistance has Nagi realizes he has to pull out,

method two: He begins to apply soft kisses all over your face. "Please don't be such a pain. I'm sleepy," he mumbles, giving you those grey puppy dog eyes. Usually it worked, but his efforts were futile. "Ugh, Nagi, I swear if you don't let me up and do the dishes right now!" "I have to get ready; we are going out with Reo tonight!" You try shoving him off, pushing on his chest, but he is too large. "Eh, can't we reschedule?" "No, we did that the last time!" Nagi continued his soft pecks all over your face. "I don't wanna," he groaned.

Nagi was starting to become frustrated. Your stubbornness made him pull out the big guns. Method three: you could never say no to this one.

"I'll consider getting a cat." Nagi was sure this would work; it had never failed him in the past before. "You say that all the time, and you never actually consider it!" You puff out your cheeks. "You're being so difficult. How do you know I've never considered it?" "Because every time I show you cats, I want to adopt, you always say that pets are a bother and too much work!" Nagi couldn't believe his 3-method plan didn't work; it had never failed him in the past before. "Fine, we can get a cat if you agree to do nothing with me till the rest of time." "Nagi, we both still have to work!" Nagi lets out a defeated sigh and has to pull out his secret weapon, plan N (plan N stands for something Nagi wants nothing to do with). In this case, it was doing the dishes and leaving the warm bed that he desperately wanted you to stay inside of. He sits up.

"I'm becoming real annoyed with the attitude," he says, still aloof as always. He pushes your legs up an into the matting press position with ease and speed, pulling up his t-shirt that you wore as a sleep dress letting your tits bounce free and lazily moving your panties to the side. "Nagi, we don't have time for this!" "Hush," he said, smacking his puffy mushroom tip against your slick folds to silence you. He thrust into your mushy cunt lazily. He was deep and unambitious; he didn't care if it felt good; he just wanted to sedate you and his poor cock, which was your fault for getting it all worked up with that smart mouth of yours, so it was fair to say Nagi was a superhero of his own interest. He didn't use his powers for the overall good; he used them to support his lethargic needs.

Bachira Meguru and you had just gotten home from a rave night around 2:44 am Raves were something you both loved doing and had fond memories of since you two had met at Portola Festival a few years ago when Bachira had a soccer/football tournament in the US. Since you were both too high to function, you ushered Bachira inside the apartment, making you guys end up crawling onto the couch giggling and laughing. Moments like this were special, tangled within one another, being your goofy-Selfs exhaustion is heavy on both of your features, but Bachira always looks at you with those eyes. After a night spent with you, they express a deep satisfaction within him, like this is what he wanted;

He wasn't alone anymore. His warm palm plants itself to your thigh, rubbing and softly squeezing the skin beneath it. Bachira used the element of surprise when mastering his superpowers to draw you in like a predator. He was sickly sweet; he always was, and touchy like a clingy puppy crying for attention. few words were said in moments like this just your hands running through his short bob tangling deep within the brown and gold locks

"M'gotta let me dye your hair soon" you slurred burying your face into his neck his free hand glides against you back "whenever you want bumblebee" voice deep and compassionate his voice was always adaptable perfect for every type of event this is exactly why he was your superhero he knew your mood like it was his own his left hand lazily glide from your back onto your thigh on the opposite one from his right hands they both kneed the flesh "you looked so pretty tonight I couldn't take my eyes from you" you get lost staring at his hands maybe it was the shrooms you both have ingested but sparks ignited in you tummy "Bachira.." you whisper, whined "aww I know" he said his voice dripping with his usual teasing nature "let me just make sure, I do have the right away to play with you?" He gives you that infectious smile, "Yes, now stop being stupid!" You find yourself tucking a piece of hair behind his ear.

You let his long fingers wander up your skirt till they reach the waistband of your panties, snapping the waistband. You can't help but squirm. "You play too much," you whine, hips jerking. Bachira just laughs; the sound does not help the dull ache in your panties. He hikes your skirt up, and his other hand moves your panties to the side. His knuckles brush your reactive clit, making you suck in a breath of cold air through your teeth. "So sensitive, bumblebee, mhm as spongy and soaked as ever" he thumbs at your prodding clit as his fingers push into your pussy. He lets you rock against his hand, enjoying the view.

Euphoria overtakes you, the sensual pleasure and the dopamine of the shrooms pumping through you, and Bachira was the master of these feelings, pulling these out of you. He was your superhero, a shoulder to cry on, to understand why you feel a certain way, to change anything into a smile—one he loved and adored so much. He manipulated emotions, mastered them, and cherished them, making you the perfect one for him. You were so full of emotions, a superpower. He always made you feel good, no matter what feelings were conflicting in your brain.

Tokyo Revengers

Manjiro Sano (Mikey) is everyone's superhero His presence is calming and assertive. He brought comfort using his protectiveness, making anyone feel as if he were invincible Mikey and he wouldn't drop this act around anyone other than a select few that includes the original members of the Tokyo Manji Gang and you.

You had seen the real Mikey doused in the deepest of blacks when he succumbed to the darkness; his eyes were the reflection of what pooled inside and leaked out. But even Mikey had his limits. He had lost friends and all of his siblings, the ones he knew about and didn't know that wandered the earth. He had such big things impact him at a young age; still, many years later, they loom over his shoulders, maybe helping lead up to the incident that happened this afternoon.

You gave Manjiro a bracelet; it was diamond-woven with the color's gold, black, and red, with a dainty charm of your initial. It dangled from the cheesy friendship bracelet. You had given that thing to him years ago, and he had lost it. This afternoon it was given; it probably had broken with it being so old, and the factor that he never took it off.

"I lost it..." Mikey mumbled to himself, digging through a pile of clean clothes, "Manjiro Sano! I just washed those." Your voice was stern, and your eyebrows couldn't help but furrow. You hadn't understood why he was acting so strangely. "Not important," he said. Once you had gotten closer you could hear his voice it was shaky, something you hadn't heard in a while. "Fine," you said softly and sat beside him. "What did you lose, pretty?" Mikey shook something you had never seen; you couldn't decipher it. Could it have been from you calling him pretty? You know he wasn't fond of the nickname, but he let it slide because you were you,

"Something extremely important." He was brief to keep his voice from cracking. "You're trembling, Manjiro...?" And for the first time in years, Manjiro Sano, the invincible Mikey broke down and cried. He tried to choke down the first sob that bubbled up, but like a child, he let himself wail, and his fist tried to wipe away the river that went downstream on his features. "Oh, Manjiro..." you said with sympathy Your eyes had noticed the missing bracelet, the sliver of pale skin on his left wrist, and the absence of the black and red colors, letting the skin beneath finally hit the light. You knew words wouldn't help him catch the air that continued to slip and leave his poor lungs.

Instead, you watched him, a hand snaking from his back to his platinum hair to get lost in the locks. "Do not waste your tears on something so meager; I'll make you a new one." Manjiro finally musters the courage to speak tears still slip from his dark Eyerses "that's not the point I loved that bracelet..." He was always subdued but at that moment his cheeks were puffed out and his tear ducts were stained red, but it made your heart race just like the first time you met Mikey.

Manjiro had always been sentimental and far from a crybaby. You giggle, "I know, Jiro, that was just a friendship bracelet. Let me buy you a ring this time," and he looked up at you with that closed-eyed smile. your word had struck him with a realization he couldn't hide his emotions from you like Toman "I'd prefer if you made me another bracelet out of love not friendship. Leave the ring to me. Shinichiro taught me that's a man's job." He lets his head fall into your left thigh, your hands tread through his blond hair, you let your body run from your mind, and it ends right on Manjiro's lips.

Mikey was a hero to a lot of people, but Manjiro was your hero because of his sentiments. His tears and his sobs were yours to take care of, to make the cloudy skies go away and let the sunshine called Manjiro Sano twinkle for another day. His lips saunter lower, and you drift your head back to let him have his way. his calloused hands trace down your skin they felt alarmed worried you wouldn't let him touch the same because he felt you wouldn't see him the same after his little outburst over the bracelet. your hands pressed his into your waist more "don't tell me the invincible Mikey is getting cold feet" you teased a cheeky smile decorated your cheeks "never." he gave you his own smile again the one you adored oh so much his kisses traveled lower he tugged at your waist band his wet kisses stop at your tummy making the butterfly's inside worse "let me show you an incentive for the new bracelet I will receive" his eyes bore into yours you lift your hips up and he slides them down your thighs before lapping at your already waterlogged panties nibbling at you clit through them he persisted to stimulate you through the thin fabric Manjiro was your superhero in his dark moments, and when he was a beacon of light, but most of all Manjiro reminded you how sincerely fragile the things you possess truly are and to cherish them because one day they will be gone.

Jujutsu Kaisen

Ryomen Sukuna is more villain-like; anyone who didn't know him would think he is a monster. He had four arms, a strong build, and a fitting but oddly terrifying face. From afar All the other servants thought you were trouble, always provoking Sukuna. They believed the hatred was equal between the both of you.

"Lord Ryomen! I told you to stop leaving your clothing inside out. My ladies shouldn't have to deal with extra work?" Being a seneschal did give you higher power over other servants, but you were far from noble enough to yell at the dictator Ryomen Sukuna, everyone was astonished he hadn't discarded you just yet. "Get off my back, woman, before I make you!" "You should know such hollow threats have no effect on me Ryomen Sukuna!" Just as you begin to chew out Sukuna for his lazy act, you hear soft padding hit the floor as the toddler wakes up. "Tsk, and the brat saves you." Sukuna remarks You swiftly pick up Yuji. "Why hello, beautiful boy," he babbles and wraps his tiny arms around your neck.

"Hm, well, it seems I have more important matters I must attend to, your heir. I'll reprimand you later." Your eyes soften at Sukuna before you shift your focus on the young heir. "Wouldn't you like a bath?" you coo while bouncing Yuji on your hip, his giggles infectious. "I'd like for you to attend to me after the brat, woman." Sukuna's large hand pats Yuji's head, ruffling his matching pink hair; his hand then shoo's you both away to get along with your journey to the bath but thaty sadden look stayed in his four eyes.

Sukuna had Azoospermia, the condition meant he wouldn't be able to give a woman a child. The image had made him sick on many nights, but your bickering had soothed the idea of no heir. His twin brother passed on recently, leaving his son onto the great Sukuna after he finally had forgotten the idea of an heir. plenty had worried sukuna the idea of entrusting his teachings to someone who wasn't their own frightened him, but your own soothing words rid him of such stupid ideologies. "He looks just like you, my lord, doesn't he?" "Yuji will have a wonderful technique, don't you think, Lord Sukuna?" Even in grief, Sukuna had your smiley face and your embracive arguments. Truly, one could say you were his superhero, but that wasn't true...

"My lord, I finished with Yuji. What was it you needed? "I demand you accompany me to the hot spring." "Any reason?" you read the firey dictator well you could tell something was on the front of his mind. "No reasons rid yourself of that nonsense," you just laugh to yourself. "I'd be happy to, my lord." Once you both reach the hot spring, you remove your kimono, folding it and hanging it on a rack and Sukunas close by.

You watch as Sukuna steps into the warm spring. You follow shortly behind. "Be real with me. Sukuna, what do you truly desire, my lord?" Sukuna looks down in thought. "I wish to rid you of your duties as Seneschal and make you, my wife." You couldn't help but laugh; no one close was stranger to you and Sukuna's relations. You had both had plenty of nights in his chambers. He only allowed you to care for Yuji's needs. You both bickered like an old couple, picking and teasing one another like it couldn't be helped, and the way he stared at you, the only person he let all four eyes gaze at. "Don't tell me you've gone all soft, Kuna." Your hands rub his cheek and trail to his chest. "I want you to carry my child. Lets try again." His eyes were hopeful, but you sensed the doubt all over him. "We have Yuji. There's no need for an heir anymore." "It's not about an heir. I want you to be with child, my child, our blood." "Oh, Kuna" you whisper. Sukuna had appeared as a villain to everyone else alike, but you saw the man who wanted a child with the servant girl he fell deeply in love with. A mere human who wanted something fleeting and precious, but with the cards dealt to him, he couldn't have that dream. Sukuna was your superhero with his inner strength, his stubborn refusal to give up. "You can be so hardheaded."

You allow your lips trail his strong neck with fleeting kisses. He hums at the affection. "As you wish, my lord." You swing a leg over to sit in his stirring lap, cock hard against your tummy. You struggle to sit on his Substantial size, it had always felt like a train trying to ram into the station, but once stuffed snugly inside, you felt the warmth of the love between you both, Sukuna's slippery but rough grip on your hips to bounce you the water ripples with each movement, the heat from the steam, and Sukuna was overwhelming in the best ways.. Your muscles ached in reminder of recent nights; all you wanted was to give your willful lord his only wish, a family with you, a sibling for Yuji, and to make him yours. You couldn't bear to see your superhero without his cape.

And that's it. I'm so sorry, guys. I know I was supposed to have more characters, and I'm getting so burnt-out writing for this. I've been working on it for so long, and my ADHD is NOT wanting me to work on this any longer, so I am posting this with the characters I have, but I really hope you all enjoy! (Also, I think my writing has improved a lot with this, but I'd still love more tips.)

-love Bunny!

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 1 month ago

Text

Animals:

Golden Retriever Yunho

❥Jeong Yunho x fem reader

❥ATEEZ x fem reader

➯a/n: taking "golden retriever boyfriend" to a whole new level kkkkkk ugh yunho needs to stop wrecking me so hard

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut, hybrid a/b/o

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: not edited, poly pack dynamics, animal/human hybrids, hybrids take on physical and personality traits from their animals, yunho in a rut, big dick yun- like BIG, gentle to rough sex, dacryphilia, pussy drunk yunho, intense eye contact, knotting, spit, breeding kink, (very briefly) passing out, praise + reassurance, soft dom yunho, pet names (puppy, angel, sweetie, love & baby), omega puppy reader / beta golden retriever yunho

♡masterlist + navigation !♡

18+.MINORS GET OUT.

‧｡ANIMALS𖦹°‧

"Are you ready? Are you ready?" Yunho bounces on his feet at the door while waiting for you.

If he had a tail, it would be wagging a million miles per hour. But since he's a half-hybrid, he only has his ears to show his excitement; the fuzzy, golden blond perked a bit off of his matching hair as he tilts his head.

"Come on, we're burning daylight!" He pouts as you finish tying your running shoes.

"The sun just rose, Yunho! Jeez, what's with the zoomies- wah!" You yell as he grabs your hand and drags you out the door.

He had woken you up with his face over yours, panting softly and asking you to go on his second run with him. He's a naturally active person because of his breed, but this is almost ridiculous. Usually he'd go with Yeosang, your doberman mate, but said alpha had apparently kicked him out of his room before he came to you.

You start to wish you were smart enough to have done what Yeosang did as the golden retriever man starts running — bolting, really. "Aaaah, shit. This is gonna suck." You sigh before pushing your legs to catch up with his long ones.

‧｡ANIMALS𖦹°‧

You fall down in the middle of the large backyard dramatically. "Are you satisfied?" You pant, rolling your head to look at him.

He's got his hands on his knees as he catches his breath, but a large smile is still on his face. His ears flop a bit as he nods quickly. "Thank you, puppy~"

"Yeah, yeah," you laugh breathlessly, "help me inside, my legs are jelly."

He lifts you up quickly, hugging you to his chest tightly as he carries you back inside the pack house, his nose in your neck. Nobody else seems to be awake yet, the rooms all deserted as you make your way to the downstairs bathroom.

When he shuts the door behind you, you're smacked in the face with the heavy scent hot cocoa and cinnamon. It sends you reeling, holding onto the counter tightly as he sets you down; humming as he turns on the shower, blissfully unaware of how his smell is affecting you. Without the fresh air from outside or the air conditioning — you can't smell anything beside his strong pheromones.

"Yunho?"

"Mhm~?"

The insane amount of energy, the runs and work outs he's been doing the past few days, the way he growled at Yeosang to challenge him for the last piece of pizza yesterday and the way he's been extra overbearing over you and the other omegas —

He's going into a rut.

"When was your last rut?"

"Uhm, about six m-" He pauses. He ruts every six months like clockwork.

"I'll go get Mingi-"

"No!" He runs to you quickly, wrapping his arms around you and bear hugging you. "I want you. Please? I don't- I promise I'll be gentle." It's probably not a promise he can hold true to.

Because Yunho may be a beta, but he's built like an alpha.

"I'll stretch you out for as long as you like- just, please? I w- you know I love all of you but... I want another pup to take my knot."

The last time you were his first rutting partner he nearly split you in half with his knot. It's always bigger at the beginning of a rut, and you hadn't known that when you so bravely took it.

"I don't- I don't know if I can take it-"

"We can take our time! My rut hasn't started yet, I can stretch you out," he turns you around and falls to his knees, clasping his hands together, "please, love."

Even though you should be immune to them, his begging puppy dog eyes win you over. "Fine-"

His ears perk up immediately, along with his eyes that you swear start sparkling at the promise of being able to knot another hybrid from the same classification as him.

"But shower first, you almost threw me into an early heat."

"Is that so bad-"

"Shower."

"On it!"

‧｡ANIMALS𖦹°‧

His pheromones are significantly less potent after you shower, but they're still dizzying in your post orgasmic bliss — having just came all over all four of his fingers while his thumb stroked your clit.

You're so far gone just from his large hand that you don't even realize he's spread your legs and positioned himself between them; grinding his massive cock on your messy heat with a string of needy groans.

"Gonna knot my pretty angel," he breathes deeply to reign himself in a bit. He grips the base of his cock, already feeling his knot swelling up ever so slightly.

You suddenly come back to your body, back arching off the bed as you yip — even just his bulbous tip is so huge and heavy. "Ah! Too big, too big," you shake your head, already trembling at the thought of taking anymore.

"It's not too big," he pouts, cupping your cheeks gently to still your head, "it's not, sweetie. You can take it." He rests his forehead on yours, tears welling up in his eyes to match your own. "You can take it, I promise. You took all of my fingers so good, you're so nice and wet for me~"

"Fuck-" You groan, forcing yourself to relax around him as you look into his eyes. "Go- go slow..."

He pecks your lips repeatedly as he inches his way forward immediately, trying to sink into you simultaneously as fast and as slow as possible. Going at the slowest pace he can but doing it quickly.

He's stopped when you instinctively clench around him, your brows knitted together at the intense stretch. He almost falls over, slamming his hand onto the headboard and grabbing it tightly. "R-relax, relax," he begs, his hips stuttering, "fuck, please-"

He collapses on top of you with a pant of relief as you stop clamping down on his girth, gulping down the pool of spit that threatened to spill over his parted lips.

"That's — oh, fuck — that's it, angel~" He moans loudly as he continues his torturously slow descent into your gooey walls. "There you go, you got it," he nuzzles his forehead against yours comfortingly as tears start wetting your lashes; looking deep into your eyes as he stretches you to your absolute fullest.

"You're so-" You hiccup, missing the way his jaw slacks as you clench around him with it. "-so big." Your brain, what little is left after he fingered most of it out of you, is tingling. The only thing you can think about is Yunho and his ridiculous thickness stretching out your pulsing cunt. "M'gonna break." You pout so seriously that he can't help but chuckle.

"Oh, puppy~" He coos fondly as he wipes your eyes with his thumbs, cradling your face tenderly. "You aren't going to break, I got you. You're taking me so well~ You're almost half way there-"

"What?!" Your teary eyes widen, attempting to look between you when he catches your jaw and shakes his head softly.

"Don't panic, love," he hums, stilling his hips to give you a moment. "Breathe in and out, nice and slow, just like that." He strokes your head softly as you take in deep, shaking breaths; going along with you to try and keep his cool. It feels like you're squeezing the life force out of him with your hot, gummy walls.

"Why are you so big?" You whimper, followed by — "It's too good, I'm- I'm gonna lose my mind."

His hips act with a mind of their own, shoving another inch of his fat length into you and making you wail; grabbing his forearms as he keeps his hold on your face.

He was starting to think he'd have to pull out, that you genuinely couldn't take it and that he might be hurting you. But to hear that you feel as good as he does — his ears are hot and twitching as much as his cock is.

"J- oh! Put it all the way in, baby- all the way, all the way!" You're just about sobbing, "just hurry! Hurry and fuck me, please, pleaseee-"

Your plead dies out in a loud, pornographic whine as he slams the rest of his length inside of you; pinning your twitching hips to the mattress with his own as he growls lowly. Your eyes roll back into your head, jaw dropping wide open as you cum around him.

He tries to stop himself, but your mouth is just so tempting; especially as your pussy is fluttering and convulsing around him — massaging every inch, every pronounced vein.

He grips your jaw in one hand and forces it to stay open as he spits right into your mouth. The sight of your tongue twitching as his spit lands is enough to make him want to cum then and there.

"Look at you~" He coos as he starts rutting a few inches of his enormous cock into you, pulling back just a bit more each time until he's sliding in and out of your tight heat slow and steady in his entirety. "I knew you could take me, love."

All you can do is moan with his hand still squeezing your mouth open, feeling like you're about to float away at the mind-numbing pleasure. When your eyes flutter shut, he growls, snapping his hips into you quickly and making them fly back open.

"Eyes on me," he says in a breath, gently rubbing your jaw as he lets go of it, "eyes on me or I will stop." He won't, too deep in the beginnings of his rut to even imagine doing such a thing, but the idea of it makes you whine nonetheless; watching his expression with puppy dog eyes. "Thank you, sweetie~"

You grab onto his arms tighter as he speeds up just a notch, blinking away your tears quickly so you can watch the way he bites his cheek. He's still holding back and while you're thankful that he doesn't want to hurt you — you want to make him feel even better. You know he likes it fast and rough. Especially with a rut only literal minutes away from hitting him.

"Baby," you whisper above his quiet growls, catching his attention. "Fill me with your pups-"

Forget minutes. His rut slams into him full force as soon as the words leave your lips.

His eyes, already nearly fully dilated, are overtaken by his pupils; only the smallest sliver of brown left. His cheeks and neck flush with heat, all the way down his shoulders. His cock feels like it gets bigger inside of you. There's only one thing on his mind.

Breed.

He starts pounding into you like a madman, bottoming out every single time. The sudden burst of speed knocks the air from your lungs and leaves you unable to do anything but let out a small squeak.

If it weren't for his ever present grip on your face, you'd probably be sliding up the bed with the sheer force of his thrusts.

You can't even register his pussy drunk babbling; nodding along simply because you hear his voice from within the absolute tsunami of pleasure slamming onto you.

"Pretty angel, gonna take my knot? Yeah, yeah you are~ Take my big fucking knot- stretch this little puppy cunt out so good~" He moans against your lips, panting as he fucks into you rough and desperate. The entire time, his eyes never leave yours — watching them get fuzzy with ecstasy.

When the first rope of his hot release shoots inside of you, your entire body twitches. Your eyes slam closed again, your jaw dropped in a silent scream as you literally blank for a few seconds. Clenching around his growing knot so hard as he fills you up that he doubles over ontop of you and curses under his heavy breaths.

You come back to the feeling of him licking your tear covered cheek softly, his arms wrapped tightly around you and his knot pulsing against your walls. At the bright look in his eyes, you hum dopily, "did it?"

"You did it," he beams as he wipes the sweat from your brow, "I'm locked up all perfect and snug~"

You slump under him with a wide smile, still chasing your breath. "Mmm perfect," you purr as he continues to lick your face gently.

"I'm so proud of you," he moans contentedly, eyelids as heavy as yours as he looks down at you with what can only be described as heart eyes. "I'm going to knot you so many times, puppy."

‧｡ANIMALS𖦹°‧

#ateez #ateez smut #smut fic #ateez smau #ateez x reader #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho #yunho smut #yunho smau #ateez hybrid au

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artsninspo · 1 year ago

Text

"JEALOUS TYPE" - Rio X Reader

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「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

Summary: The restaurant your date picked to take you out to is owned by Rio, and he’s there sitting at a table when you walk in. Just your luck. This ones a little steamy 🌶️.

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Black Reader

Word-Count: 1.6K

Biting the inside of your lip you stifle a smile looking into your date's brown eyes. His animated expression is feeding off of yours as he tells an arguably hilarious story. Honestly, you wouldn’t know. Your eyes sparkle at his and by some strange miracle you seem to break into a laugh at the right moment. Although handsome, well put together, kind and funny, your date doesn’t have your undivided attention. Three tables away Rio sits with a scowl staring daggers into your side profile. He was having dinner with an older woman when you arrived with your date. Rio’s eyes met yours then looked down to see your hand in your dates and frowned. Since the woman left you’ve been subject to his displeased looks. He hates the sight of you with another man. Especially after resisting his advances. He’s furious really that your pretty ass didn't spend time getting ready to look good for him. Having had enough he calls over a waiter, it's his restaurant after all.

“You’re gorgeous” your date tells you, picking up your hand to kiss it from across the table. He’s a charmer for sure. His dimples and smile are to die for but he’s not the one making your heart race.

“You’re not so bad yourself” you smile, taking a sip of your wine. The waiter comes over with a bottle in a bucket.

“Vintage Cabernet” the waiter says, putting the bucket on the table.

“We didn’t order that” your date says as the waiter slips you a table card.

Wine by the glass your man’s a cheapskate huh?

Is written in excellent penmanship. You thought he was signing the bill when he started writing. It takes everything in you not to smile as you fold the card. The waiter looks amused. The use of a Drake lyric in such a petty exchange is all the more amusing. Casting a look over to his table Rio sits seemingly unbothered.

“On the house” the waiter says and your date shrugs allowing the waiter to top him off first. You don’t like that. A man that doesn’t put the woman he’s with first is a slippery slope. Sitting back you taste the wine as the waiter pours yours. It’s excellent, you raise a glass to Rio and your date is too self absorbed to notice your eyes aren’t on him. After a few minutes you take your leave heading into the ladies room. Your heels click on the floor and you take out your compact to powder the shininess of your forehead and top up your gloss. That’s how Rio finds you. He strolls in wearing all black, which seems to be his signature.

“This is the ladies room” you say mirroring his nonchalance.

“Don’t make any smart comments. I have a dick and it works” he warns casually. It’s crass but you’re amused so you smile anyways fixing your gloss in the mirror. The look he gives you tells you exactly where his head is. The physical attraction is a ten out of ten. “Get all dressed up for a guy who can’t even buy you the bottle but you won’t get in a car with me” Rio says, offended by your rejection. You turn to face him and he stands there unimpressed with his hands in his pocket.

“I didn’t take you for the jealous type” you tease.

“You can do better” he swallows, stepping forward.

“I appreciate you looking out for my well being. I’m sure you have more important things to do, places to be '' you dismiss, and he nods a little irritated with your flagrance. It's been awhile since Rio had to put in any effort to bag the woman that had his attention for the moment. You pass him to get to the door and he takes your hand. You should be terrified but you aren’t. The energy in the restroom is electric. Your chemistry is undeniable. You feel your heart racing as his eyes look down at your lips, he wets his bottom lip before casting a look back into your eyes. You want it just as much as he does. Your entire body hates the riskiness of your current predicament.

Reaching around you Rio locks the door Rio closing the remainder of the distance between. Leaning in his lips connected to yours, he purses his lips tight against yours chastely before pressing his body against yours in a dominant gesture, pressing you between himself and the door. Pulling back he comes in for a second time, this time parting your lips, goading you into a slow, sloppy and seductive make out session. His kiss is teasing and claiming, you feel your temperature rise as you indulge in forbidden fruit. His hands slip under the hem of your dress gripping your thighs, snapping you out of it. Pushing him away your chest heaves. You want him so much but it’s not right. You're on a date, Stan warned you about him and he carries weapons.

“No no no no no” you snap to yourself as you hear a knock on the door.

“Y/N” your date calls from the other side and you feel your heart racing in your ears.

“I got a call I’ll be right out, go back to the table” you say through the closed door and Rio smiles. He reaches for the lock and your eyes tell him not to. He smiles absolutely thrilled at the prospect of blowing up your spot.

“Are you sure?!” Your date asks.

“Yep, just give me 5” you say and there’s a long pause.

“Ok” he says and you breathe finally. It’s your turn to scowl Rio comes in for another kiss but you push him away annoyed with him and yourself. Rio laughs to himself completely unbothered by your predicament.

All trouble. You think to yourself about Rio as you touch your make up again and Rio smiles looking at his phone. He puts a finger to his lip signalling you should hush and when you walk over you see your date still waiting for you outside the bathroom from the security feed on his phone.

“Give me your number or I walk out,” Rio says, playing dirty. You put your number in and he calls making your phone ring. He looks satisfied.

“Pick up, own the lie” he whispers, coaching you in your deception. His eyes are full of mischief and amusement. You just may be in love.

“I swear I care but I’m on a date sis, please call mom” you say loud enough for your date to hear. Rio unlocks the door letting you out. You smile at your date and he takes your hand.

“I didn’t notice your perfume smells slightly like cologne” he says and you hope he really has no inclination Rio was all over you. His cologne is more sweet than masculine and musky.

“Hmm” you raise a brow.

“Who was calling?” He asks.

“Sister” you lie and he nods suddenly more attentively. Your phone goes off again, you know it's Rio without checking it.

“Family emergency?”

“Sister stuff” you dismiss getting another message and you put your phone on silent feeling terrible. Sitting in front of your date you can still feel Rio’s kiss on your lips, his body against yours, his big hands on your thighs. The rest of the night is more of the same. RIo keeps texting the entire ride back to your house and you end up at square one as your date stands outside of your condo door with you. You dodge his kiss, letting him kiss your cheek. He takes it like a champ and you sigh frustrated. Unlocking your phone you see a flurry of messages of Rio talking shit about you being a bad girl, worse than him, a player. Warnings not to lay up with your ‘lame ass date’ and more. The final tells you to call once you get in.

Smiling, you set his name to Crazy Christopher in your phone. After a steamy shower you head into bed alone. You're far too excited to be sleepy in spite of the time. Your phone rings and Crazy Christopher flashes across the screen.

“Hello?” you pick up.

“Are you home safe?” he asks like he cares.

“Yes, Christopher”

“Yes, Christopher,” he mocks, making you smile.

The phone line goes silent for a few moments and your smile never fades, you haven't felt this giddy about a situation in years.

“You tired? I was hoping to come and wear you out” Rio says, making you laugh. Honestly you want the same thing.

“That isn't how you speak to a woman” you correct him.

“Nahh, you don’t want me to pretend I have manners. That’s not you” he says, reading you right.

“Some other night Rio” you cave, deciding you won't deny yourself a good time.

“Alright, well you tell me when” he responds in his usual tone. It’s an odd relief he doesn't promise forever’s or any other ridiculous niceties.

“Why don't we make it interesting, the next time I run into you - you can take me to your place” you shrug, lying in bed looking up at the ceiling.

“Bet” he agrees. “Goodnight baby-girl” he says.

“Night Rio” you respond.

“Christopher” he corrects. “We’re on a first name basis” he says and you laugh.

“Goodnight” you respond, hanging up in a final act of defiance.

You smile looking up at the ceiling heart racing at the risk. Sitting in his car Rio smiles hoping you stay true to your word before heading into the warehouse to check on his operations. He has plans for you.

Big plans.

_________

Let me know what you think of this update and Rio's bad behaviour 😉😘

Authors note: TYSM 💖 to everyone who's read, liked, commented or reblogged any of my work and more particularly this 'series'. It's been a fun palate cleanser. If you're a writer and need a sign to purge your drafts you think no one will enjoy here it is.

xoxo

#rio good girls #rio x you #good girls rio #rio x reader #manny montana x reader #manny montana fanfiction #rio x black!reader #rio good girls imagine

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aceecee · 3 months ago

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Insatiable - Chapter Five

TW for this chapter: murder, themes of obsession and possessiveness, brief mention of a panic attack, ooc sylus*, mean sylus, down bad sylus - has some naughty thoughts about you

* technically they are all out of character but I have no idea how the love interests act towards others who aren't MC, we have some snippets here and there but it's not enough. a lot is left up to interpretation so if you don't agree with mine, I can't do anything about it

Synopsis: Sylus pushes you too far, unaware that you might not come back.

WC: 5.3K

Masterlist

He can no longer live without you. You’re just like the air he needs to breathe. So, let him partake in you.

For his survival.

The city comes alive at night. During the day it feels like a ghost town at times but the night is when the sinners awaken and their appetite is never satiated. The hushed whispers in alleys, the not so odd gunshot you hear in the distance and the pleads of the victims all go ignored. The people here are smart. They know not to get involved.

But it is not the people she seeks. No. The one she’s hunting is yet another arrogant man with too much money and time in his hands. No matter how many of these animals she puts down, another simply takes his place.

The man thinks himself on top of the world, living on the top floor of the skyscraper. He feels like he’s untouchable. He thinks he’s safe.

He hasn’t even noticed her circling around him for days, watching her prey. Taking notice of every detail of his life. Of his betrayal.

It’s what makes her such a great hunter. She’s patient, going days without nutrition just to complete her hunt. Not a single prey has escaped her.

And this man is no exception.

She watches him - lounging around on his sofa - all of it clear to her thanks to the large windows. She’s standing on the rooftop of the building next to him, watching him through binoculars and he still has no fucking idea. There’s guards stationed by the door of the room but they’re useless against her.

All she needs is the view of him to complete the job.

It’s all played out for her, like a scene out of a movie. She experiences it all with a wicked glint in her eyes, her favourite part is coming up, the anticipation might just kill her. He hunches over in pain but no sound escapes him as a vine covers his mouth, silencing him. His eyes are bloodshot as he feels multiple things inside him, swarming and looking for escape.

One does.

It shoots out of his chest.

Then another.

This time through his left ear.

It continues until he looks more of an abomination of nature rather than a man.

He’s left on the couch. Silenced forever.

The last thing she’s ever thought of herself is an artist but she has created a masterpiece.

Sylus stares at his hands. [Name] had left his office a little while ago and he’s been stuck in this haze since. He can still remember the feel of her skin against, the warmth of her body and how right it all had left.

He still feels the anger at your little sacrificial lamb act. How dare you even think about leaving him?

This Eiden was a pathetic little coward. Still hiding behind his sister even when you’re considered dead. Sylus has been watching him the past year. Your brother has never done anything to find you, Sylus doesn’t care if he was hospitalized. The fool had gone and gotten married but couldn’t lift a finger for his family?

There was no memory of you left in your brother’s house, Eiden was all too happy to forget about you and yet you’re still worried about him.

And if that wasn’t enough, Eiden now has his Mara looking after him. How greedy.

His mind is in a disarray. His being filled with turmoil. He’s not supposed to feel this way about you. His love is only for the woman who killed him. And that’s not you.

No more of this. No more of feeling anything for you.

She’s just a tool, he reminds himself.

And it’s time he treats you like one.

You find yourself back in your bedroom.

How you got here was not remembered. It all felt like a blur.

Your gaze is on your wrist. The very one that Sylus had grabbed over a year ago. Your other hand curls around your wrist, trying to mimic the way he had. His touch had felt like acid on your skin back then so what changed?

Why had your mind and body deemed it okay?

I don’t fucking know.

Insomnia has nothing on the current exhaustion you feel. The sleep is just what you need.

The rubbery texture of the mat has become a familiar sensation to you. You often find yourself face planting onto it.

He’s a monster. Relentless.

Your entire body aches and not in a good way!

You had made the mistake of getting comfortable because now your body was subjected to a different type of torture daily.

Sparring with him.

This was the deal you had accepted two months ago. You had served his finances well but his endgame for you was different. You’ve rested this last year and your body is much better.

Just like Sylus wanted.

So, now it’s time to train it. As you feel your muscles ache, you can’t help but think it was a bad idea to confide in him about your evol. Because now, he’s set on seeing how far your endurance can take you. How much you can handle.

And it’s made more infuriating due to the fact that it’s working. The torture forced upon you for years had left you capable of accomplishing more with your evol than you could during your childhood. But your body was malnourished so even that was stunted. It’s all changed now though.

You’re also curious as to how far you can go. For the first time in all your lives you feel powerful. You can feel the potential brimming inside you, almost like it’s just out of your reach. It’s an addictive thing and unfortunately you’re hooked.

Creating plants out of nothing isn’t the limit to what you can do. You remember how your body had moved on its own during your childhood, helping a certain someone calm down from his evol flaring up. Golden vines had wrapped around his body - glowing - and they had healed all his cuts and stopped him from losing control. Of course, you paid the price by sacrificing your body again. But something tells you that the vines are only the start.

It’s why you don’t say anything as he knocks you off your feet once again. Two months of this and you haven’t made much progress. You can see the frustration inside Sylus and it worries you. Worried that he’ll throw you away.

A few months ago, these thoughts would have never crossed your mind. He kept you at a distance, sure, but he had always treated you with respect. In his own way, he kept reassuring you that such a thing would no longer happen…but something had changed.

Ever since he had comforted you in his office, he had been cold. Not just cold but sometimes scary. You have no idea where you stand with him. He no longer spoke to you in a teasing tone, no longer seeked you out and as rare it was for him to join your wacky adventures with the twins, now it never happens. He mostly communicates through Mephisto. The only time you see him is during your sparring sessions. He shows no hint of emotion in his eyes or face and it stings.

You hate that it stings.

His hold as he picks you up is gentle but it doesn’t feel like it. The dread at his touch is back too. But you’re too afraid to give it away. Afraid that if you don’t become what he wants you to then you’ll be disposed of.

“This isn’t working,” his eyes glare at you. He’s brought you closer to his body, face to face. Your black long sleeved shirt is good at hiding how sweaty you are. But your hair is a mess and you’re breathing heavily. He’s wearing a red tank top with black shorts, looking as composed as ever. You don’t even have the mind to admire him like this as your heart sinks to your stomach. Yet another person has deemed you a failure.

No. No. No.

I promise I’ll do better. I promise-

It’s hard to sign any of the words with the speed at which your pleas bombard your mind. None of it matters as he throws your wrist out of his hold and storms out.

You can’t even hear the choked gasps that escape from you. You can’t hear your breath shortening as you forget how to do the action. Somehow you can’t even hear your thoughts as the four walls around you seem to sway and close in on you. You make no noise as you fall to your knees and it kills you inside.

You’re left laying down on the gym mat.

The house is quiet now.

No longer do the occupants wake up to the sounds of clanging in the kitchen, no longer do they smell the food cooking and no longer do they see you.

Sylus hadn’t met you in the gym the next day. Or the next.

You take the hint and stop waiting for him.

You spend all your free time holed up in your room. You only leave for work. You haven’t signed in over a week as you refuse to cross paths with anyone. You left his card on his work desk, only to find it on your nightstand upon your return. You don’t push it by doing it again but you don’t use it.

Mary had sent you a text informing you that the kids wanted to see you but you responded by letting her know you were on a work trip. You didn’t want to put on a fake smile and pretend that everything was okay. That you were okay.

Luke and Kieran try to knock on your bedroom door but you never answer. The door is locked but it would pose no challenge for them to pick it. They don’t. It doesn’t stop them from trying to get you to come out though.

“[Name], come get food with us.”

“[Name], come play this new board game with us.”

“[Name], come commit arson with us.”

None of it works.

Your window is kept locked and the curtains are always drawn. You can hear Mephisto pecking at it but again you don’t respond.

On day five of your self-imposed isolation, you find yourself waking up with too much energy. You can only think of one thing to release it and that’s how you find yourself in the gym, tying up the boxing gloves as you stand before a punch bag.

Hand-to-hand combat was what Sylus had labelled you as a failure in so perhaps working the muscles would help.

The first punch you throw is half-assed.

How pathetic.

His voice speaks for you in your mind.

The second is too shaky.

How weak.

The third doesn��t even make the bag move.

Failure.

It repeats in your mind.

Failure. Failure. Failure.

It continues until you feel the white hot rage.

How was any of this your fault? Had you asked to be brought into this world? To be kidnapped? To be forced to watch your family be murdered in front of you and be the reason why? To be tortured and forced to experience unimaginable horrors? Did you beg for your mind to be broken over and over again?

Had you asked him to save you?

No, he had done so on his own. And now he wanted to throw a temper tantrum when things didn’t go his way.

Because you weren’t what he wanted? Who he wanted?

In your anger you don’t realise as your leg picks up and collides with the punching bag. However, you do notice as the force makes it fall off its hinges and smash against the wall. A good distance away from you.

You stand there gaping as the bag falls down, leaving a sizable dent in the wall.

“Always full of surprises aren’t you?” A voice purrs in your ear.

In your shock you hadn’t noticed the asshole entering and positioning himself right behind you. In a small act of rebellion, you push yourself away from him.

[Don’t touch me.]

Red eyes widen a bit. It’s a surprise to see him open and close his mouth a few times, trying to think of what to say but falling short. He looks to be in contemplation before nodding and taking a step away from you.

You’ve never seen him rattled. A part of you is smug. It’s a beautiful sight.

What would he look like on his knees, your thoughts wander.

“Meet me here again tomorrow?” it’s phrased like a demand but he speaks it like a question. His eyes look over your face but you give nothing away.

You nod.

This time it’s you who walks away.

Sylus is a fool.

He lasted not even four days after he walked out on you before finding himself at your bedroom door, hand raised to knock but staying in place. The only time he’s seen you these last few days is the small glimpses of you at work. You’ve isolated yourself and he knows it's serious when you’ve even shut Mephisto out.

He wanted to use his position as your boss to force you to show yourself, especially when he found his credit card on his desk but after some contemplation, he concluded it’ll do more harm than good.

Pride does settle in him when he realised all the cameras were gone so he can’t even check up on you using them but it’s mostly overshadowed by frustration.

This is all his doing. He had been so focused on seeing results that he had overlooked the mental battle taking place in your mind. He should be happy that his plan worked, he treated you like a tool, successfully manipulated you into being desperate for his approval so why doesn’t it feel like a victory?

Sylus has never heard you talk but he didn’t know one could be silent in other ways and it stings.

He hates that it stings.

He’s conflicted. Maybe it’s for the better that the two of you stay like this because the fact that he has gotten so attached to you in such a short amount of time is exactly why he did this. He can live with emotional pain, he’s been doing so for far too long.

But can he live without you?

He finds himself unable to answer his own mind.

He puts his hand down, into his pocket because he doesn’t trust his own body right now.

And he walks away.

He’s a fool.

He won’t apologise for it.

He saw it all.

The quiet fury in your eyes that you could no longer express with your words. The raising of your leg as it collided with the bag. The sheer force it took for the bag to leave a dent in his fucking wall.

Desire pools in his gut at your show of strength.

It doesn’t help that you look so good in your workout attire. It clings to you in all the right ways. All those memories of pinning you to the mat and having you under him resurface. Sylus hadn’t shown it but he was utterly grateful at his restraint because it would’ve been so easy to have you in those moments.

His body moves on his own and before he knows it, he’s right behind you. He’s tried so hard to forget the feel of you against his body but his mind still yearns for it. He doesn’t touch you but he’s close enough.

You’re too shocked to even notice him.

How cute.

But then he ruins it by opening his mouth and something inside him breaks when you pull away.

[Don’t touch me.]

Your unspoken words ring in his head. Over and over again.

You’ve rendered him speechless and for that he has to give credit where credit is due.

Sylus has walked away from you too many times to count and he can’t help but think when you do it to him.

Is that how he made you feel?

The room has changed the next time you enter.

The gym equipment has all been moved to the corners. Instead it looks more like something out of those spy movies you liked to watch. One area of the room is set up as a shooting range. There are four lanes, each with their own target. On the wall are various guns, none of which you have any knowledge of. You hated them in your first life so you never knew a thing about them. The guns in the game are a bit different, more technical.

There’s another area with training dummies. No weapons around them. Another area is set up as some type of simulator, you think. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the technology of this world.

You hear them before you see them.

“Boss sure moved fast to make this happen,” Luke says. “Seems like we’re no longer the favourite child Lukey,” Kieran pouts. They stand before you, leaning on the other.

[You were never the favourite, that goes to Meph], they let an offended gasp at your declaration. Their antics never fail to make you feel better.

[Why have I been graced with your presence?] you ask.

“Cause we’re your new mentors. Boss’s orders.” They clarify together when you give them a confused look. It’s sometimes astonishing how much they move in sync, almost like they are one person. Not even you and Ei were that close.

“Now,” Kieran claps his hands, “...it’s come to our attention, little lady, that you pack a mean kick. But first, we have something to show you,”

Luke grabs your hand. It’s the first time he’s touched you and he realises this himself and drops it quickly. Before he can say anything, you grab it again.

[What is it?]

You have no idea what expression he has on his face, you can’t see the look in his eyes thanks to the mask they wear but you hope he’s shocked.

No way am I admitting that I feel safe around them, they’ll never let me hear the end of it.

Neither of them say anything but instead drag you to the spot on the wall that had the dent you created. You wish so badly you could cackle when you see what they’ve done to it.

“Ta-daaa!” They give you jazz hands as they show off their work.

The hole is framed and there is a small plaque to the side of it. When you look at it closer, something is written on it.

Baby’s first victim.

“Well, what do you think? It was my idea if you like it. Kieran’s if you don’t.” You hear an offended “Hey!”, followed by a smack. The twins bickering is interrupted by your clapping. When they turn to look at you, you’re staring at them with a wide smile.

[I love it.]

You regret the show of appreciation when two sets of hands start pinching your cheeks, cooing at you.

For the last month, the twins had trained you in every fighting style that specialised in using legs. You pick it all up fast. It’s exhilarating seeing the damage you can do. It’s reassuring to know that you’re strong with or without your evol.

Also you’ve destroyed over a hundred dummies. Pat yourself on the back!

You haven’t seen Sylus in the last month but this time it doesn’t bother you. The only communication you’ve gotten with him is a message Mephisto relayed. “Focus on your training, don’t show up to work.”

You don’t think you would have been able to concentrate when your entire body is constantly aching. Any free time you have is spent either at the orphanage or resting in your bed.

The twins and you have gotten even closer during this month. Close enough to divulge some secrets.

It’s yet another day.

Rather than taking your frustration out on the dummies, the twins want to spar. Which means you have to be wary of how much force you put in your kicks. Kieran decided to go against you first with Luke watching on the sidelines.

But the kick you land on him is too hard, the force of it is known by the loud sound ricocheting throughout the room. Before you can drop everything and see if he’s okay, you notice it. You notice Luke holding his side in pain. The exact same spot you had just kicked his brother in.

You’ll ask about it later but for now, you rush off to find the first aid kit. You examine the area on Kieran, he tried to play it off but the shake in his voice was too noticeable. The guilt must have been clear on your face because he relents when he notices the tears in your eyes.

You don’t want to hurt those you care about. Intentional or not. Physically or not.

Luckily there is no internal damage, just some bruising that should go away on its own. You give him an ice pack. Then you turn to Luke.

[Show me yours.]

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he crosses his arms and looks away.

You move yourself into his field of view and sign. [I’m not stupid, I noticed. Show me or I’ll tell the boss that it was you who drank his favourite wine.]

That sets him straight and he shows you. He’s given an ice pack as well.

It all makes sense how they seem to be so in sync, to the point where they feel everything the other does. It’s great, sure, but it’s a huge weakness.

Take one down and the other does as well.

Not on your watch.

[My evol kills me,] it’s only fair to let them know something of yours in exchange. You don’t have to see their faces to notice the confusion so you explain in more detail.

The three of you go out for some ice cream for comfort after.

This time it’s Sylus who is waiting for you in the room. He’s at the shooting range. You walk over. The boots you’re wearing make enough noise for him to hear. He turns to you and you freeze at the soft smile on his face. You narrow your eyes at him in distrust, making sure to keep a distance. What is he planning…

He only chuckles. “Relax, little bird. I only want to have an honest conversation with you.” Your body language relaxes a little but you’re still on edge. He continues his words when he notices, “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m putting you through all this.” When you nod, he closes the distance. His hand reaches out to caress your cheek but stops before it makes contact. He’s gauging your reaction and continues when you don’t give him a reason to stop.

Your breath hitches when his fingers cradle your cheek. “It’s all for your benefit…and mine of course.” His eyes are hooded as they stare into yours. “I want you to slice the necks of each individual that did this to you,” his fingers move to the large scar across your neck. You tilt your head up to give him access. “Each individual that works for them will die by your hand only, I’ll make sure of it,” he promises you. And despite your mind screaming at you to not believe him, you do.

[And what do you gain out of this?] He laughs softly at your question. You know him so well. “I get a super soldier.”

He tugs you towards the shooting range. “Now, let's see how you fare with this.”

Sylus stares at his bedroom ceiling.

The both of you had come to some sort of understanding with each other since then. He had taught you how to use guns and hand weapons, it’s dangerous for you to rely on your legs. He’s working towards getting you to be comfortable using your evol, but that won’t be for a while. You can be very stubborn when you want.

The guns hadn’t appealed to you like the blades had. You had settled on a pair of twin blades, the sword’s blade could extract leaving just the handles, which made them easy to carry. You asked them to be modified further, so they could be hot enough to cut through anything. It was an interesting ask, one that he indulged in. It took a while to develop, to find the perfect protocore that would work with it but he prevailed in the end. The giddiness in your face had made it all worth it.

He’s fucked.

He still doesn’t know the answer to what you mean to him. All he’s aware of is that you can never leave him. You have a power over him that no one else does.

Like right now, you locked him inside his own room. He can easily escape but he’s not going to. Why? Because the image of the puppy eyes you had flashed at him pops up again. He’s about to set up an important deal, so sleep has been sacrificed. However, you noticed this and put your foot down.

“It’s hardly fair, little bird. You never sleep.” You had taken up all the space in his bedroom door, your arms outstretched so he couldn’t leave. [I’m fucked in the head. What’s your excuse?] He only sighed, rubbing the space between his head.

I don’t have time for this.

But when he looked back up, any thoughts of disagreement went out the window at the pleading look you gave him. [Please?]

That’s why he’s currently trying to glare a hole into the ceiling. He can’t believe he let you win. With a huff, he accepts his fate and closes his eyes.

The clock reads 8:00AM when he awakens. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he becomes all too aware of the silence throughout the house.

The uncharacteristic silence.

You don’t live with the twins and have a moment of peace. They don’t make it possible.

He’s rushing out the door. What are they up to? He does not want a repeat of last time. No, he can’t even think about it.

The twins aren’t in their room, or in any of the other miscellaneous rooms in the house. He knocks on your door and opens it when no one answers. It’s also empty. Maybe the three of you have gone out together again, he calms himself down.

Coffee.

He walks to the kitchen, passing by the living room but stops in his tracks.

Found them.

They’re currently sitting down in the armchairs, tight ropes all around them. Their necks are slumped forward but the snores coming out of their mouths stop any panic. His eyes move over the couch. You’re sitting down on it. Still in your pajamas with a robe around you and fluffy slippers on. There’s a tablet in your hand and a steaming cup of coffee on the table. One hand is typing on the tablet while the other is giving head rubs to Mephisto, who is sitting on the couch’s arm rest. The bird looks very comfy at the affection he’s getting.

You look up when he enters, a warm smile on your face. You set the tablet down and get up to greet him. [Morning. Did you sleep well?”]

“I did,” he hums before pointing at the nuisances. “What’s all this?” You look at the direction, a mischievous look in your eyes. [I needed their help with something which they did! But they were being too loud and I was afraid they would wake you up so I handled it.]

“By drugging them?”

You give him a beaming smile in response. [Aren’t I a genius?] If you had a tail, it would be wagging. He smiles while imagining the sight.

His hand brushes the stray hair out of your face. “Yes. Yes you are.” It moves down towards your wrist, his fingers lace with yours and he’s pulling you towards the kitchen, making sure to grab your cup of coffee. Mephisto follows behind. “Come. Let’s have breakfast together.”

You instantly move to the fridge but look up at him when his hand slams the door shut. Sylus moves you towards the bar stool. “I’m cooking today. Just sit there and look pretty.” He turns around and opens the fridge door. Simple eggs with toast will do. With the ingredients in hand, he moves to the stove. In a few minutes, the sound of the eggs sizzling can be heard with the toaster also on. He can feel your stare on him.

As it should be.

He keeps an eye on you when you get up, heading to the coffee machine. You’re making it for him. The two of you are silent as you work, only the sounds of the equipment you’re using can be heard. You move towards him, and he accepts the cup. It’s just how he likes it.

[I’ll be back.] By the time you come back into the kitchen, he’s putting down the two plates on the table. The tablet is in your hand.

You sit down with him, looking for something on him and slide it to him when you do. He picks it up and reads it.

“This is…How-”

[I’ve been watching him for two weeks. As soon as you wanted the deal.]

He puts the tablet down on the tablet. “Why?” arms crossed as he stares at you.

[Because he was too clean. Nothing on his finances, not even the hidden ones. No one is that clean when they live here. Certainly not someone that rich. I figured he’d mess up and I was right.]

He continues to stare at you. A sign to not stop.

[He has a mistress. Which wouldn’t be a problem but his wife has an iron tight prenup. One that’ll leave him with nothing if his infidelity is proven. That’s why I got the twins to…persuade him to take the deal. With a 5% loss to profit for him.] You wait for some sort of reaction from Sylus, you normally wouldn’t intervene with his business like this but you noticed the exhaustion in his eyes. Sure, it would've been easy for him to get what he wanted by brute force but that’s not how the world of business works. A reputation like that would only cause issues.

“Don’t do such a thing again,” he warns you. “That’s not why you’re here,” he pauses, “but good job.”

Later during the day when you return to your room, there’s a big stack of folders waiting for you. On them is a sticky note, ‘A reward,’ printed on it. When you open the folder’s it’s all the information he had promised you, about Eiden. But any thankfulness goes away at the dates listed. Sylus had been watching your brother for a long time, before the whole drama in his office. He already had all this information when he promised he’ll look into your brother. But he kept it these last couple of months. When you had disappointed him.

You can’t believe you trusted the words he spoke to you. You had hammered yourself down and begun anew for him. You’re letting him turn you into a killing machine. Your gaze falls back onto the sticky note.

Reward.

The word is sitting there, mocking you. What else is he keeping from you? Hiding it away and only letting you when you’ve satisfied him.

With a new found resolve, you crush the note in your hands. Two years. He had invested a lot in you these two years so that’s what you’ll give him. The next two years, you’ll do whatever he wants. You’ll be whoever he wants. But as soon as the time is up, you’re gone.

Not just from him, from them all.

AN: We have Zayne in the next chapter!! Finally!!!

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