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sangunary · 3 months ago

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Sillouethe Of Your Soul.

BatFam x Neglected Reader.

SYPNOSIS: How could anyone missed something they've never had.

WARNING: NOT FOR SENSETIVE PEOPLE OR WHO HATE GORE. (Daddy issue incoming)

Some abuser never realised the extent of their actions nor do they try to understand the person they have hurt, they relish in being in power to chain an angel on Earth with them so they won't feel so envious of it's wings.

Some don't realise their own abused, the harsh word that left wounds deep inside their sweet angel's heart, their silhouette ligures around the house but their soul were never present... They do not understand that their own actions have consequences that hurt more than themselves.

You were abused in the silent ways, no one to cheer you own, no one to help you sleep, no one to love you.

You would watch a family so happy and perfect just that they were your family and you felt like watching as their perfection together formed an art while you watched. Just another audience watching a beautiful art.

"She was an angel"

Bruce began as he sit inside his office that left somewhere empty now... The guy who he was talking was from CPS conducting an interview after your death.

"I should have realised... she wasn't a bird like the rest, she was an angel who just needs some encouragement to fly"

Bruce was better at nursing helpless birds than an angel. He's been a father for more than he could remember but he never took onto consideration on how some kid's aren't all birds and he gave up so soon... After he realised he could nurture you like a bird.

"I would watch her silently, I couldn't realise what I was doing wrong... I didn't knew how to raise a bird like her and I realised something was wrong with her."

You would sit there at the side quietly as the rest of the family played around treating you like a ghost. Their playful banter and smile never reached yourside, you were treated like a guest at your own home.

"I kept trying tho, I pushed and pushed trying to force her to open her wings... Like the rest of the family, but it wouldn't budge"

Bruce would watch as he ordered you to do certain thing's that no one else had to, doing everybody else laundry, extra studies, outside tuition and even excluding you from certain family function.

He knew you weren't strong enough to be a vigilante, that's why the rest of your siblings have a hard time being near you... Your life were different. You were just too 'odd' to be include as a family to them.

"I never knew how much it hurt her..."

You could barely hold back your tears sometimes, everyone get the idle father but to you he was never a father he was just an instructor... Who clearly have favourite.

"I told Alfred to stop making food for her... To learn how to survive on her own, she was already weak I thought I was helping her survive"

You would stood there your eyes looking into the abyss, everyone had their plate on the table yet yours was missing. They did not asked or have a single concern as they happily ate their meal... As your flesh began to decay.

Every Christmas you were gone nowhere to be seen but everyone carried on their life like you were never there at the first place.

Your bones were crushed, your blood being drained slowly as their smile and laughter taunt you.

Why? Why would you ever missed something you never had?

You've spent your whole life without them. Why would you suddenly need them, they were heros... They were obliged to love everyone but you were being singled out.

"I don't know why she didn't scream when they dunk her head into the water"

The brutal scene of your death, some thugs decided to kidnapped you for money but when they realised your family nor the bats were coming they used you to fulfill twisted dreams.

Your wrist was red and some soft skin were pelling off. Tears, sweat and snot on your face as you begged God to save you.

Tim got kidnapped before and he was saved before an hour.. You've been down here for six hours, bruised and broken.

You thought for once that your family would show some mercy and come but they didn't, left you behind in the hands of two merciless people.

For six hour straight you've been beaten, they dunked your head into some cold water and before you could passed out and just let go they would pull your head back.

Your clothes were torn and dirty, your body was aching and there was a fine line of cut on your neck as blood wouldn't stop spewing out of it. Your fingers were mostly broken and you're been hit with a rench which left your jaw broken and your head bleeding.

"Dad...I, mis-ed u..."

You could barely speak but you used the bit of your strength on calling for your father, for him to embrace you in your dying moment... That's what you've wanted for a long time .

Memories flash across your mind as your breath began to slow down. You've watched alot of movies, you always wanted your father to pick you up into the sky and told you that he loved you.

The way a father would look at their daughter and be proud of. Everybody had a father by their side growing up atleast in your eyes, the one to hold their hands while they cheer, the one to embrace them when they accomplish even the smallest of thing.

But, he was never a present father to you. Ever award you won the only thing you care for was your father, you looked into the crowd of faces to see his proud face or just him but he wasn't there.

Unlike everyone else who had a father holding their hands to guide them through the darkness you only had yourself. Every compliment felt meaningless and every compliment was replaced with untold hatred.

"I couldn't stop myself that day... I hold onto her and cried. My baby was dead"

He continued as his face show a slight sorrow but he was holding it back.

"My child, my little angel... Lifeless on the dirty street left there to be eaten by the rats... I couldn't control my tears, so many word left untold... So many praise I've kept to myself, she died thinking she was a burden."

His voice cracked as his throat began to heat up from the emotion he was trying to surpass.

Your body was left at some nearby alleyway, you were still concious when they throw your body onto the cold cement. The light of the city blended in your eyes, you lay there paralyzed soaking wet from your blood.

It was cold and empty, trying to imagine the warmth of your father, but you couldn't...You didn't know how it felt to be under a father warmth. You never had that.

All those years filled with unsaid words and tension between the two of you. You couldn't speak and he didn't knew how to care for you. You watched as he would nurture all your siblings buy you.

Every birds by his side cuddling and loving while your feathers began to fall to warmth your heart, to play the role of being loved. You sacrifice your own greatness for fatherly love.

"Her body was cold and empty, not the girl I watched grew up... Her blood were warm, like she was trying to comfort me for the last time..."

Bruce looked at his hands as he looked back at the guy, he recoll running towards the scene, pushing the GCPD aside when they tried to stop him... But a father could never be stopped when their child is at stake.

He saw your body near the trash, they threw you away like you didn't meant anything but a trash to be taken out after it was done with.

He went on his knees as he dirty his perfect suit, his hands holding onto your body as he began to sob... Your face have went pale and he could see the damage done to your jaw and the large bruise on your left eye.

The bruise was swollen, purple and red colouring it... Seemed like they had hit you with something hard.

"Whoever killed her treated her no different from an animal. I hold onto her hands, I prayed to God to do something... I was... Late, too late to be a father to her."

"I ruined a beautiful angel... I wasn't a father... I treated her differently... I was too sucked up to understand that she needed a father and not Bruce..."

"I just, hoped that no father would do this to their child... She was my child, my angel, my baby... And I would die to bring her back and told her... I love you always"

I know this is shittu but im bored.

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mattsmedusa · 4 months ago

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✎ 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 ✯ 𝐦.𝐬

ⓘ best friends? ᚐ munch!matt ᚐ pussy eating ᚐ etc. + intended lowercase. 𝐰𝐜. 𝟎.𝟖𝐤

[𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞!]

"wait, what?" matt blinked at you when you told him that you never had anyone go down on you. "you’ve never..." he trailed off, trying to find the right word. "received?" confusion was evident in his tone since he thought you had done almost everything—not because he thinks you hook up a ton. but because he finds you attractive, more than a best friend should, and in his eyes it was confusing how no guy had done it yet.

you nodded slowly, slightly embarrassed that you were putting it out in the open. still, it was matt you were telling it to so that took away from the shyness.

"well, that’s a surprise." matt muttered, shifting on the bed beside you as his eyes bore into yours. "so is it like... you don’t want to or something? ’cause i don’t think any guy would refuse-" he paused, finding his own words quite crude. "ugh what am i saying?" he groaned quietly in embarrassment.

"don’t worry, i get what you mean—you think i’m hot." you teased, laughing heartily when he shoved you to the side.

"that’t not what I mean." he mumbled defensively as he looked away, crossing his arms. a soft flush creeped up his face as he felt his cheeks grow hot from embarrassment.

"well to answer your question, it was more on my side than anything... i just didn’t feel comfortable letting anyone do that you know?" you said, making matt turn back to you as he nodded slightly in understanding, uncrossing his arms.

"so if it’s me... would you be comfortable then?" the words left his mouth before he could stop them, causing both of you to freeze up. matt looked equally as surprised as you, as if he wasn’t the one that said it.

"that’s- um..." you blinked at him confused and surprised, also kinda turned on for some odd reason—well, not so odd since your hot best friend was asking you if you’d be alright if he ate you out. "yeah, i guess." you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up.

what is even happening?

before you could even register the fact that matt, your best friend, was more than willing to give you oral sex, he was already in between your legs with both your pants and underwear off, staring at your core hungrily before diving in without warning.

you let out a surprised gasp, your hands immediately flying to his head to clutch onto his hair as your hips jolted when he flicked his tongue rapidly over your clit. your head fell back against your pillow, a small cry ripping from your throat.

"matt, ffuck-- s-slow down." you whimpered, needy moans falling easily from your lips. your breathing was getting more and more ragged and shallow as matt feasted on you like he was starving. his tongue prodded at your entrance before going back to circling your clit.

his tongue lapped at your clit a little gentler and slower this time—per your request. he pulled away just to mumble hoarsely, "just lay there and look pretty for me," before diving back in again, eating you out like your pussy was the most delicious thing ever.

you let out a broken moan when he slowly eased two long digits in your dripping pussy, curling them upwards and hitting your sweet spot, causing your whole body to seize up in pleasure.

your back arched when he closed his lips around your clit, sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves as he fingered your greedy cunt, gradually picking up pace and eliciting more desperate sounds from you.

"y’taste soo good." matt moaned against your folds, causing you to shudder in pleasure due to the vibrations against your sensitive flesh. "so fucking good." matt mumbled, more to himself than to you, as he continued to suck and lick your core.

your hips moved in time with his fingers, grinding against his face as your breathing grew more shallow, hitching here and there. matt immediately knew that you were close to coming undone and redoubled his efforts, his fingers pumping faster and curling more as his tongue focused solely on your sensitive clit.

"oh! fuuuckk--" you let out a drawn out moan as you came all over his face. your hands pulled his hair almost painfully, making him moan against your pussy. your hips bucked against his face, eyes shut tightly, brows knitted together and mouth open in a silent scream as you rode out your blissful orgasm.

matt lapped up your release like it was his favourite ice cream before slowly lifting his face up when he felt your body start to relax, small tremors running down your body as the last wave of pleasure left you.

as you caught your breath, eyes still closed and chest heaving, matt decided then and there that he was more than willing to help you become more experienced when it comes to bedroom activities.

he’s your best friend, after all.

୨୧

✩ ˙˖˚᮫ ⁱˢᵃ ᮭ ᮭ.ᐟ i’m not stealing anyone’s work! this is a re-upload from my other account etherealsturn (which is deleted now).

also, chat, i’m working on the requests, this is pre-written work.

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formulafanfics13 · 15 days ago

Note

You are awesomeee!!!

As for the request, can you do a max x reader one where she is badass defending him and Jos actually liking and considering her worthy as his son's gf

A girl with the marriage - MV1 🔥

Masterlist

summary: when the world talks shit about max, you don’t sit back. you make sure everyone — including his father — knows exactly who you are. warnings: strong language, protective reader, daddy issues, implied trauma, f1 media slander, jos verstappen behaving like a human being for once, loyal ride-or-die energy, soft max under the chaos

You hear it first in the paddock tunnel.

Some junior engineer, probably Williams, they all talk too much, muttering shit under his breath as you pass.

“…no wonder he’s like that, his dad fucked him up…”

Your feet stop moving. Your hand tightens around your iced coffee. You turn around. Slowly. Deliberately. “Hey.”

The guy freezes. Turns. Realises too late who you are. You’re not just Max Verstappen’s girlfriend. You’re you. The one who cursed out the Red Bull catering manager last year because they forgot to label the vegan options and a poor intern ate meat. The one who threatened to slap a Sky Sports presenter for asking if Max “even enjoys racing anymore.” The one who once made Christian Horner apologise with eye contact.

“Say it again,” you smile. “Slower this time.”

He stammers. Backpedals. Apologises. Tries to laugh it off.

You don’t laugh. You lean in and say, calm as a bomb:

“Next time you talk about Max like that, I’ll make sure your credentials don’t get renewed. Understand?”

He nods. Practically bows.

You walk away. Max catches up to you at the Red Bull hospitality tent. You’re already halfway through a new coffee. He presses a kiss to your cheek like nothing’s happened.

“You look scary today,” he murmurs.

“I’m always scary.”

He grins. “True.”

It’s not the first time you’ve defended him. And it won’t be the last.

The media talks. Fans speculate. Old interviews get dug up like bones in a shallow grave. Every time Max so much as sighs too loudly or shrugs in a press conference, someone blames his father.

You know the stories. Everyone does. But they don’t know him. Not like you do.

They don’t know how he kisses your collarbone in the mornings. How he makes your tea without asking. How he whispers Dutch lullabies when your cramps are bad.

They don’t know how soft he really is.

But you do. And you’ll be damned if anyone tries to rewrite his narrative.

The real test, though, comes in Belgium. Spa. Summer. You’re wearing sunglasses and a tight black crop top that says “No, I won’t smile.”

Jos Verstappen watches you walk up to the motorhome like he’s waiting to be proven right.

He’s not mean. Not obvious. Just… cold. Stern. Eyes like the weather. You’d met once before. Briefly. Formal. Polite. But this is different. This is him watching you love his son.

Max disappears into a strategy meeting. You’re left alone.

Jos sits across from you at the Red Bull table. “So,” he says. “You like the circus?”

You take off your glasses. Meet his gaze dead-on. “No,” you say. “I like Max.”

A beat of silence. Jos raises an eyebrow. “He’s not easy.”

“Neither am I.”

He almost smirks. You sip your drink.

Then, out of nowhere, he says:

“You know, when he was a kid, he used to cry before every karting race.”

You look at him. Unflinching. “Then made him, right?”

His jaw twitches.

“I know the stories,” you say. “But I also know him now. And you know what? He turned out better than anyone expected. Kinder, too. Despite everything.”

Jos looks away.

You continue. “You don’t have to like me. But you should know this, I love your son. I protect what’s mine. And if anyone fucks with him, I don’t care who they are. I’ll end them.”

Jos is quiet for a long time. Then he huffs a laugh. “You’re scary.”

“So I’ve been told.”

He nods. Finishes his coffee. Then says, so low you almost miss it, “He needs someone like that.”

You blink. That’s it. No speech. No approval ceremony. Just that.

But it’s enough.

Later that night, Max finds you in the hotel room, shirt off, hair messy, mouth hot against your neck.

He whispers, “My dad said you’re scary.”

You grin. “You like that?”

He nods. “Fucking love it.”

You ride him hard that night. Like you’re proving a point. Like you’re reminding him who’s in his corner. And after he comes, breathless and wrecked, he kisses your shoulder and says, “Don’t ever leave me.”

You look him in the eye. “Never.”

#f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #MV1 #MV1 x reader #MV1 fic #MV1 imagine #MV1 smut #max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x reader #reader is feral #reader x jos verstappen showdown #protective girlfriend #jos likes you #found family #grid chaos #team principal nightmare

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01zfan · 18 days ago

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copycat

clone!anton x reader | 6.4k words

i’m backkkkk. and with a filthier fic than ever. i’m sorry if this doesn’t suit anyones fancy but this has been on my mind since i watched mickey-17 all those months ago. i needed to write something absolutely insane as my comeback. i hope you guys enjoy and my requestz are open!

contains: two clones and threesome. nasty nasty nasty fic but no other warnings!

Anton never knew at what point he gained consciousness during the copying process. Every type of waste from the ship was incinerated and melded into his human flesh. It was some point between his brutal demise and when he’d make it to the end of the greasy rollers. There was the time the laboratory lost power right in the middle of him being fabricated. He was only finished to his torso, the bottom half of him still inside of the machine. There was also the time the scientists forgot to put the conveyor belt up to the fabricator, making Anton fall naked to the ground with a disgusting thud.

Everything seemed to go right this time though. Anton’s fabricated clammy body slid on the greased rollers, starting from his short black hair all the way to his feet. He woke up when the final cell of his toe was stitched together, and he woke up simply by opening his eyes. Usually he’d wake up with a gasp, something he believed was caused by the terrible way he died in his previous life. But this time it felt like all he did was blink to see halogen lights.

“Do you remember how you died this time?”

Anton turned to his right. There was the lab assistant. He had been in and out of this place to know who he was. Eunseok had a bobblehead of some character or celebrity back on Earth. He was the same time of awkward Anton was in his previous life, the type that alienated him from the rest of his colleagues. He was the one on his team that volunteered to stay for each fabrication. He always ate lunch alone, his desk was cluttered, and also wore glasses with a prescription so severe the lenses doubled the size of his already unnerving eyes.

Eunseok was also too intrigued with the cloning process, always scribbling away in his little journal, asking Anton questions that did not matter. He asked the question by looking at the computer, probably checking things that also did not matter.

Sometimes Anton would find Eunseoks interest in his death and how he was feeling sweet. In some weird way it showed that he cared, more than anyone else in the lab did and more than anyone else other than you. Sometimes Anton wouldn’t know how to feel about it at all. Because there is no reason why someone should care so much about expendables. But as Anton lays naked on the greased rollers after this machine turned human waste into matter he just feels annoyed. He knew he’d be dying again soon, so it didn’t matter if he had an arrhythmia or a missing finger. Anton is annoyed because he knows death does not discriminate, and no one on this ship seems to understand that.

So Anton just continued to stare at the scientist, until his question hung in the air for too long and he turned to face him.

“Do you remember how you died?” The scientist got close to Anton, wheeling closer on his chair. Anton grimaced when the scientist reached his gloved hands towards his face. “Do you remember where you were last?”

There were snatches of where Anton was last. He went to New Earth, walking around the the barren tundra looking for something he didn’t have clearance to know about. He had been sent on several missions that lead to him dying without anything being discovered. He naturally assumed that was the case. He had died so many times they started to merge together but he doesn’t think he’s never forgotten how. His past life he just remembers the cold, what he was going to eat for dinner, and then the lights in the hospital.

Instead of waiting for a pointless diagnostic test, Anton sat up from the rollers and swung his legs over the edge of the conveyor belt. He watched Eunseok’s eyes flicker down to his crotch before clearing his throat. Eunseok’s eyes go to the plainclothes folded neatly next to Anton’s body. More often than not he’d reach for the plainclothes quickly, red in the face and muttering about how sorry he was for being indecent. But this Anton spreads his legs apart further, looking at the blush come across Eunseok’s cheeks.

The two of them are silent, Anton looking at Eunseok with a smile across his face and Eunseok looking everywhere but at him.

“You should probably put your clothes on.” Eunseok gestures vaguely towards the clothes. “It’s pretty late. I think you’ve already missed dinner,” he says.

“Like I would want to eat that shitty food.” Anton’s tone is flat and his words cause Eunseok to raise a shocked eyebrow. “Do you eat what we eat?” He shuffles a little closer to the edge of the conveyor belt. Eunseok’s silence should’ve answered the question, but he likes pressing it further. Eunseok is the highest ranking individual he can make uncomfortable without it coming to bite him in the future. “They had me test a mutated chicken breast that gave me such a bad stomach ache I literally died,” he says.

Eunseok nods. That was how Anton died last week. He should be able to answer how he died today, but all he can remember are the fluorescent lights of the lab and how annoyed he was with his circumstances.

Just as Anton starts getting more angry with Eunseok’s stunned silence the scientists’ eyes dart over his shoulder. Relief crosses his face in an instant and Anton watches his tense shoulders lower.

“Sorry I’m late,” you say. Anton turns to you but you’re looking away, focusing on closing the curtained door behind you. Anton looks back at Eunseok. He’s smiling at the situation the three of you are suddenly in. Eunseok gets so rest, the sterile room and his white lab coat only makes his flushed face more stark. Anton spreads his legs further just for dramatic effect, but he clasps his hands in front of his crotch. “there was a domestic dispute on the third level I had to deescalate.” You continue on, rambling about that toxic couple that lives down the hall from your pod. The man was sneaking around with someone in the engineering department. You ended up settling the dispute by creating a polycule between the three of them.

You always struggled with closing the door. Something about the code always changing and sometimes the curtain gets stuck to. Having stuff in your hands only makes you move slower, messing up more than you usually would. “But I was able to steal some food because I assumed you’d still be getting fabricated and I also brought some clothes from your room for you—“

When you finally get the door shut and you turn you freeze. You look between Anton’s naked body and Eunseok’s red face. Eunseok makes a noise too, but it’s covered up by your shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor over to him. “Baby, why are you still naked?” You move a little faster, settling Anton’s clothes and the stolen food on the nearest counter. You come close to him, touching his face and his bare body as if you’re the doctor. “Is there something wrong?” you ask, inspecting him.

Anton says nothing, looking at your concerned face and embraces each touch. You go to his shoulders first, prodding the area he said ached on his last body. He was missing a ligament or a cartilage or something like that. You go lower, adding force behind every touch on his arm. This body for some reason is slimmer than his last, more toned. There had always been variations between his bodies because the original patent for the fabrication machine didn’t belong to the same people who made this ship. So Anton was still Anton, just a different version of him. That’s probably also why he was so much angrier than his previous self.

“Does here hurt?” Your hands go from his toned biceps to his chest. He can feel your hand right over his heart. You’re not qualified to do any of this. He knows you’re just touching him in a panic, a desperate attempt to try and figure out what’s wrong with him. Anton just wants to go back to your room with you now. Still though he moves his hands away completely to let you finish your examination, smiling at the furrow in your eyebrow as you work your hands back up his body.

When you pull at his lip to inspect his teeth, Anton looks at Eunseok behind him. Anton watches Eunseok pretend that he’s not there, looking from the ceiling to papers on his desk to the computer before repeating it over and over. They make eye contact for a split second. Eunseok’s eyes widen behind his lenses and Anton winks at him.

“Everything seems to be okay.” Eunseok pushes his glasses up his nose and you make eye contact with Anton. He instantly looks up to you helplessly, and you continue to touch and prod at his body. “He just needs rest,” Eunseok says. “you’ll get your assignment for tomorrow in the morning.”

Even though Eunseok talks to you both, you two stay looking at eachother. Anton is looking up at you like a puppy and you rub his chin before pinching his cheek. He pouts just to play it up, slouching his body so his head is completely in your hands. It isn’t until Eunseok clears his throat again that Anton grabs the clothes you got for him.

After a moment you leave the conveyor belt and go to Eunseok. You turn around first, then Eunseok follows your lead and turns around in his wheeled chair.

Anton stands from the conveyor belt, his feet flat against the cold tile floor. He pulls his shirt over his head first, and he looks at your backside. It’s terrible that there are parts of your body that you can’t see. Even if there was a full length mirror on this ship there’s no way you could see yourself from this angle with your own two eyes. You’re the Lara Croft of this ship with your utility belt tight around your waist and the sheath for your knife strapped to your thigh. Anton doesn’t know how you hate your uniform, not a single one of his lives did he understand that. You came in such a hurry that you still have all of your equipment.

“Hurry up and get dressed,” you say. “gotta get you to your room so you can rest.”

Anton is staring at your panty line underneath your tight pants. He nods instead of verbally answering because he feels like his mouth is watering too much to speak clearly.

The way your hand is on your hip and it’s cocked to the side makes it look like you’re reprimanding someone. He hasn’t seen you in uniform since his life before last. That fabrication you came in a rush too, and that night you made use of your handcuffs. Anton’s temperament is a little different this time around. If your handcuffs were used tonight he thinks the roles would be switched. But you were just as stubborn as he was, and you’ve been like that your entire life. You were more playful too, looking over your shoulder and biting your lip while Eunseok continued on about charts about the variations between the different Antons.

“Are you dressed yet?” You looked at Anton’s bare thighs. His briefs hugged close to his body, the fabric strained against his muscles. Your eyes traveled up until you were looking directly at his clothed dick. Anton preemptively pulled his waistband over his tip as a means to conceal himself. The thin fabric of his plainclothes would’ve revealed his bulge in an instant. He was already semi-hard just thinking about doing something to you in your uniform, and you really did come in such hurry to see him.

He put on his dull gray pants up next while you still stared at him. Eunseok was talking about something else now too, looking at some more graphs and explaining it to you like you were looking at them too.

Anton was pulling down his shirt by the time you and Eunseok turned around. Eunseok went right back to avoiding eye contact with Anton, looking at his graphs and his charts and the Venn diagrams of each Anton personality.

Anton came and pulled you close by a hand on your shoulder.

“I’ve been hard ever since you walked in wearing your uniform,” he whispered directly into your ear. You laughed and covered your mouth, playfully putting your other hand on his chest. Eunseok had retired somewhere else, or he was standing right next to you guys, looking back and forth. You had turned around and grabbed the sandwich off of the desk next to the door. “let’s go back to your room.”

Anton opened the door quickly, pulling you even closer as you two walked through the empty hallways of the ship. You heard the occasional scampering feet against metal, the Human Waste Department transporting material to the incinerators. You and Anton were on a different path, suffering from constant detours when there was a dark enough corner or a blindspot from the cameras that he could push you into. Currently you were on detour number three, pushed underneath the stairs going up to level five while Anton kissed you. He had a hand on your chest, feeling you up over your uniform. He had moved one of your hands to his dick, and you held him over his plainclothes and massaged. It was a simple move, but it made Anton pant into your mouth and grip your chest a little tighter.

“Lets get to your room,” he said quickly. He pulled you out from the hidden spot, patting over his clothes as if that would hide the tent in his pants. You ran a quick hand over your face to gather the mess Anton left on your face and straightened your uniform that rode up. “we’re almost there.”

You faced another delay right in front of your door. While you tried getting the handle he came up right behind you. Like you weren’t in the middle of the hallway Anton’s hand went to your waist, pulling you flush against his front. You could feel him still hard against the curve of your ass, and his hand went over yours as you tried the latch of your door.

“We could do it right here, you know.” Steam blowing from the pipes suspended from the walls is almost louder than his voice. It goes off next to you, interrupting the empty halls. It’s gotten to the point past curfew that no one is out. His lips are right next to your ear, his breath fanning the shell as his nose touches your skin. “It’s just you and me.”

“Patrol will be coming by any minute.” You have to pretend like you’re sure while your fingers still fail to get the sliding door open. Anton presses further, one hand going beside your head to press against the door as he grinds his dick against your ass. “I think your friend actually might be coming by.”

Anton is caught off guard just enough for you to focus and get the door open. The lever on your door was always jammed, but getting to Anton’s room was a little bit more of a hassle. His room was mostly abandoned anyways, he always ended up in your room by the end of the day. His things were here, you were here. His room was collecting webs, waiting to be used for the next poor bastard that was going to become expendable.

When you slide the door open something didn’t feel right. Through the darkness it looked like there was something. laying in your bed. You could see the lump in your covers on Anton’s designated side, but Anton was already here pushing his hands underneath your uniform. You’re still looking at the Anton-sized bump on your bed when he guides you to the table next to your door. He pulls his hand from your shirt only for a second to put you on the table completely, slotting his body between your opened legs. Things on your table rattle and fall over, and Anton’s hands is pulling down the zipper of your tight uniform. He can’t be bothered when it’s more than halfway down, going straight to your exposed chest. Anton’s hands go into your bra, fondling your soft skin.

“I missed you today,” Anton says it helplessly, almost whining to you. “I think I was thinking about you even while I was getting fabricated.”

“Anton,” you gasp.

Your sound is caused partially caused by Anton sucking on the sensitive skin at the base of your neck and the lump of covers on your bed moving. For a second you think you are in the wrong room completely, in your Anton-induced haste you broke into someone else’s quarters. But this was your room because the tiny trinkets were the same, and it smelled like Anton in here. Not an overwhelming amount—because you could never get enough of him—but there was just more of him.

You can’t even tell Anton about the movement on your bed because he is fully enveloped in your chest. When he pulls you out from your bra just to suck on your tit you whimper, words caught in your throat. You’re looking at the back of a familiar head now, and watch a familiar hand go to a familiar neck to rub out tension. Then the person turns around.

“Anton.”

You say it bewildered enough to get Anton to pull away from you. Then he’s looking at the other version of himself, frozen beside your bed.

Anton beside your bed is flushed red like he’s looking at something he wasn’t supposed to see. Can this be intruding when this is also him? You look at the Anton that still has his hands on your chest to make sure it’s really him. His face is slimmer but it’s still him. You’re back to staring at Anton by the bed.

“Anton,” you sputter. You’re still perched on the table by the door, still between other Anton’s legs. His other hand is on your neck, his thumb mindlessly rubbing the skin on your chin. Anton by the bed has the same habit. “you’re alive?”

“Well I got a little hurt. But I managed to find a way back to camp,” Anton is stammering and stumbling through his sentence. His eyes are wide, mainly focusing on the one who is running his hands along your body. “what’s going on?” he asks.

Marriage wasn’t really a thing on this ship. Because the whole purpose of this journey was to abandon the old world, the rules went with it. Because there was a dictator in charge of the ship, what he wanted was law. So you could kind of have a harem, because he kind of had one. So there was definitely potential for atleast a throuple (or a full blown harem; at this point you weren’t sure how Antons were running around).

“You know what’s going on.” The Anton between your legs sounds, almost annoyed.

You looked at him shocked, and like nothing happened the Anton between your legs goes back to touching your chest like nothing happened. Your eyes are wide open, looking at the Anton by your bed who is still frozen. Anton between your legs turns your head fully to face him, and then he’s sticking his tongue in your mouth. He’s warm and pulls you closer, and then your hands are holding onto his arms for some stability.

Because of your relationship with someone who was expendable you had to get used to him dying. Because you were in love with Anton you didn’t want him to know that you were effected by him dying. So you had to fit the grieving of your boyfriend’s previous life into your graveyard shift. There were countless times this had happened so you were used to it. Only when Anton pulled away did the gravity of your current situation sink in. The smirk he gave you after pressing a wet kiss to the corner of your lips reminded you that something was wrong.

You looked to Anton by the bed again, and you were amazed at how flushed his face was. Because he was so timid you spent what little time you had together trying to fuel his ego. His need to please was the only thing that was stronger than his shame. The Anton you brought home from the lab already seemed to have a surplus of whatever made him kiss you like he wasn’t watching. You found yourself pulling your hands away from Anton and beckoning towards the one that was standing next to your bed.

Now, a dead man was kissing your hair and a copy of him was feeling up your body. You were kissing a dead man while the alive one watched.

“Have you always been a bad kisser?” New Anton asked. There was a quip in there about them being the same person—because technically they were—but they also were not. Because you loved every version of Anton you saw the difference in each one. The common factor between most of them were the nerves, different types of anxiety that made them meek. It was strange because the new Anton was the boldest by far, while the Anton that stopped kissing you was the most skittish.

In between old Anton’s slow and timid kisses and new Anton’s fast and deep ones there was a problem. One of the few laws enforced by the pseudo-government is that multiple duplicates living at the same time is illegal and calls for immediate execution of both copies. So both new Anton and old Anton were technically enemies of the state. You three should be devising a plan that involves one Anton being out while the other stays in. The two of them could make up a schedule of who goes out on what days. Instead new Anton starts pulling your utility belt off your waist and old Anton puts his hands on your face to make you turn completely towards him.

“Should we put handcuffs on him?” New Anton whispers while watching you two kiss. “make him watch like you two are making me watch?”

You pull away from Anton’s soft lips. His are still puckered, his eyes are still closed when you smile and face new Anton. He has that same smirk, and your hands go to both of their faces. You pull back, then with a full view you push the two Antons closer and closer together. You don’t stop until their cheeks smush together. Old Anton looks bewildered, lips still glossy from spit and new Anton smiles like he knows how you’re feeling.

“You’re both,” you pinch old Antons’ cheeks and he winces. “so cute.”

You spent thirty minutes examining the both of them until you ended up on the edge of your bed with the both of them kneeling in front of you. It’s easy to tell the difference, old Anton has a glint in his eye while old Anton has been red in the face since you both came inside the room. With your hands holding both of their chins you experimentally turn them to face eachother. New Anton looks willing—he looks at you and bites his lip—only putting up a fight against your hand so you’ll use more force. Old Anton, he’s red all the way to the tips of his ears. You can tell he wants to stop, he parts his lips like he wants to protest but he lets you continue. Just when they’re face to face you stop, letting the both of them stare at eachother for a moment. Old Anton immediately uses the chance to look away. New Anton continues to stare at the side of his face, smirking and looking him up and down.

Both Anton’s reach for your thighs at the same time. Your pants were taken off at some point between your door and the bed, discarded on the floor with your utility belt resting on top. You were left in your underwear and your bra, with both Anton’s only left in their boxer briefs. You could see that both of them were enjoying it, visual proof was right in front of your eyes. The only difference was that old Anton tried hiding it, the hand that didn’t touch you was covering his crotch.

“Anton,” new Anton looked at you, and you watched Anton’s eyes widen when he looked up to you. “can you touch yourself for me?” you asked.

Anton looked to new Anton and hesitated. New Anton was looking at you but nudged old Anton with his shoulder, already feeling responsible for how both of them should behave. Then, you watched Anton’s hand that was covering himself up instead add pressure to himself, until you could see him twitch underneath his tight underwear. You reward him instantly, dragging his hand that rested on your knee up until it was resting over your panties. He let his hand cup your heat, and then you were rubbing his face gently.

“Feels good,” you sigh contently. New Anton comes closer until his dick is pressed against your leg. He grinds against you slowly, an arm wrapping around your calf to keep you in place. “does that feel good?” you ask.

Here, you have two Antons nodding and telling you yes at the same time. You didn’t know you could feel so greedy, but having both of them nod to you makes it feel like you’ve won. You didn’t know you could feel anything besides dread since being on this ship but right now you feel something more. It’s almost too much, and you feel like you’re heart is being ripped out when you think about the one of the only laws that’s enforced here. If anyone on the ship were to discover two Antons they’d both be executed. Something about abusing the power of the duplicates, or the face that there could be an evil one going around murdering people.

You are seemingly the only one that’s being weighed down by the thought of this. Both Antons are fully enveloped in this, in you. It only makes you feel more greed, because you think about the chance of someone coming between this. You remember that Bahiyyih lost her girlfriend a couple months ago and she always found Antons’ quiet demeanor charming.

“There’s no way I could ever share you two,” you say absentmindedly. New Anton pushes his hand up your leg until he is touching your underwear. Unlike old Anton he presses a finger right into your clothed clit, adding more and more pressure until the smallest sound comes out of your lips. “there’s no way.” you repeat.

“I don’t want to be shared.” Anton who touches himself says it first. He had at some point worked his waistband down to his mid-thigh, pumping his length slowly. His other hand was over your ass with your underwear clinging close to it.

“Me neither.” Anton echoed.

Both Anton’s helped you out of your underwear. Old Anton balled up your underwear and tried to take it for his own, then new Anton snatched it from his hand and kept it at his side. Before old Anton could hide how upset he was new Anton flicked his head upwards, and he stood up.

You were looking at old Anton standing above you. It felt like you were the one on the greasy rollers in the laboratory, naked and exposed just waiting. You felt just as mischievous as Anton was when you came to get him. The thought of anyone else having this view makes bile raise in the back of your throat.

Antons’ hands are clammy when they go to the back of your bra. You let him lay you down at the same time, and new Anton pulls away from your leg so you can back up to the middle of the bed. Whatever warmth was lost from Anton grinding on your leg is gone quickly, because after he takes off his boxer briefs he’s right back on the bed, covering your body the same way he did before. The second time is even better, because Anton is cradling your leg to drag his unclothed dick against you. He’s so much bigger than you, looking down at you before parting his lips.

“I don’t really want to share you either,” Anton says before dragging his dick against your thigh. “I think it’s unfair.” he says.

“Don’t be greedy,” you sigh. You beckon towards Anton who has your bra clutched in his hand. He comes onto the bed by his knees, causing dips in the sofa “there’s enough of me for the both of you.”

Old Antons boxer briefs are still pulled down to his mid-thigh when he crawls on his knees closer to you. His dick is hard, and you can see precum bead at his tip. You make sure you’re looking up at him when you reach your hand up and wrap it around his base. When you squeeze Anton put his hands on his hips to keep himself steady.

You slowly start stroking Anton’s dick and you start feeling the sticky mess that’s being made on your thigh. He continues pushing against your leg and you whimper out. You keep jerking Anton off, picking up the speed when his precum makes your hand wet enough to go faster. You bring your free hand to your mouth, touching your bottom lip lightly. You drag your finger against your lip harder and you squirm underneath Antons’ weight.

“Put your dick in her mouth,” Anton says it so clearly it causes both of you to look. He’s looking at the other version of himself like he’s not grinding against your leg. When he takes too long Anton flicks his head towards your mouth. “what are you waiting for?” he asks.

Anton looks down at your first, and you wordlessly open your mouth. Anton lowers himself to the bed, further and further until he has to put his hands on the mattress to keep himself upright.

His hands are on either side of your head by the time you took his dick into your mouth. He’s so big he pokes the inside of your cheek, and you gag when you take too much of it. Anton instantly freezes above you you can hear him let out a strangled sound. The Anton that was grinding on your leg stops, and when you whine it only vibrates the dick in your mouth. Anton moans fully, and you can feel his arms shake beside your head.

“Does it feel that good?” Anton is mocking himself at the same time he puts his hands to the back of your thighs. You both nod and Anton fucks your mouth again.

“Feels really good.” Anton says.

You have to relax your throat when you feel his dick slide back into your mouth. There’s already drool seeping from the corners of your mouth when you feel Antons’ hands push at your thighs until your knees are almost pressing your chest. You reach your hands forward to grab for anything and both of them reach back. You don’t know who’s holding your hand until Anton pulls out of your mouth, letting his wet dick rub against your face.

He’s sitting back on his haunches when you feel Anton settle in between your legs. He moves your legs around just to see how malleable you are, he grips your skin a little harder because he likes how soft you are.

“I want to feel good too,” Anton chides himself, and when you turn your head you see him scratch the back of his head. He’s embarrassed because he wants to stake some sort of claim over you like he wouldn’t be arguing with himself, and you’re also someone who doesn’t belong to either of them. They are secretly waiting for the you to give them orders, if not there will be an endless bickering between them both. “are you the only one who deserves to feel good, Channie?” he asks.

The nickname is ironic, because he hates it and of course he knows that. He presses old Antons buttons just for the Hell of it, and won’t even look at him while he does it. New Anton is focused on your core and your core alone. He sees how wet you are already, how you’re pulsing around nothing. Anton lets the tip of his dick nudge you, and he looks to your face just to see your anticipation.

He really hates sharing you. He would’ve never thought seeing himself would be such a bummer, but he can’t help but scowl to himself. The previous version of himself is just so docile, so meek. He has all of his memories and his experiences, he doesn’t know why it made him this way and the old version of himself that way. But he has other things on his mind. You’re still holding his hand tight and wiggling your body down the bed to get closer to his dick.

“I want you to feel good, Channie,” you whimper. Both Antons smile the exact same way. “Let me make you feel good, and then I can make him feel good too.”

Anton doesn’t wait any longer. First he just lets the tip go in to feel the warmth and the tightness and to hear you draw in a quick breath. Then he goes in the rest of the way and lets out a deep breath, gathering your legs until your calves rest on his shoulders. You hold his hand tight and try to pull him towards you. He stays stubbornly still, only moving to pull his hips away from you. When he’s all the way out he looks down and spits, landing it right on his tip. It’s excessive, you’re wet enough and he’s been leaking precum since the laboratory. He does it just because it pulls a reaction from you, you wiggle your hips and whimper lightly.

He pushes inside of you again, all the way in until his hips touch yours. He stays like that, inside of you just to feel you pulse around him. Like it’s his first life and first time fucking you he’s liable to cum here and now. He has to look to himself to bring himself down, but when he sees himself jerking off to the sight of you two it has the opposite effect.

How taboo this is only turns Anton on more. He looks at how one of your hands is holding his and the other is holding the other version of himself. But technically it’s still him, you’re still just his even if there’s another one of him.

Anton lets your arms fall from his shoulders so he can get closer to you on the mattress. His arms are propped on either side of your head and he’s kissing you because it’s just you and him in this room.

“You feel so good,” Anton moans. He says it loud enough because the other version of himself is surely going to get jealous. But when he looks to the side he only sees himself moving his hand faster on his dick.

The sound of Antons’ hand is almost louder than the ones you two make together. Quiet moans and whimpers, slick and wet sounds and subtle bed creaking. You’re pulling Anton closer and reaching your other hand so you can grab his flexing thigh. He’s close, both version of him are. He doesn’t know how he knows and he’s not sure how you do either, because you wrap your legs around Antons to keep him in place. He’s rutting into you now, and Anton bites your shoulder to quiet himself. The tension is still there, because once he pulls away from your shoulder he’s moaning right into your ear.

“I’m close,” Anton’s voice is weak, his voice cracks while he speaks to you. “Both of us are.” he adds.

“I know.” Your voice is also cracking, and it takes you a moment to come to your senses. This is no place to raise a child and you also have no clue what a baby to a clone would look like. So you unlock your legs from behind Anton’s ass and let him pull your legs into the bend of his arm. “I’m close too.”

Anton was already bad enough at pulling out. No matter what version of himself it was he always had a tendency to stay in as long as possible, even when he felt like he was about to explode. There was also something inside of him that wanted you to end up with his kid. It was selfish and it was ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. Anton was red in the face with sweat making his his hair stick to his forehead by the time he was really close. The other version of himself was already close to unloading on you. He was near tears looking to you, his muscles flexing underneath his skin as he jerked himself off.

“Can I cum?” Anton asked desperately, his hand only speeding up. “Please, can I?”

“Yes Channie.” You were barely done with your sentence by the time Anton was walking on your knees further down your body. He came on your chest, landing it on your nipple and then it traveled down the valley. Then it was Anton pulling out of you, jerking himself off until it landed on your lower stomach.

Both of them were equally out of breath. They were both flushed, both of them using their clothes to clean the cum stains off your body. Then they were pulling at you to get you to sit up from the bed. You were still in a daze, but both Anton’s were more than strong enough to pull you up.

“You’re not done yet, right?” You forgot which Anton asked. You just remember that feeling in the pit of your stomach build up again at the thought of technically being two orgasms behind Anton.

#01zfan: anton #anton smut #riize smut

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kermitgardel17 · 3 months ago

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Ehem...sorry I love pathetic worshipful masochist yanderes

Lmao this is a concept I had in mind for a while now and idk if I developed it well but here we gooo

Warning: Cringe and inaccurate Greek Mythology. Fans of mythology pls don't kill me, i tried </3 Also wrote this at 4AM. More under the cut

• Death was lonely and depressing—Thanatos knew that better than anyone. It was his job, after all

• But out of all the souls he guided, why did yours catch his attention? The only one that glowed among all the dull ones

• He was supposed to bring you to the underworld—he knew that. But after seeing into your soul, so pure it touched even his almost non-existent one, he couldn’t understand why you deserved that fate. The thought of you reincarnating as some insect made him...sick

• Thanatos could barely remember the moment he broke the divine laws for the first time, sailing your soul to a safe place where you could reincarnate in peace. He knew Hades would be pissed off, but did he really care at this point?

• So when he was condemned to cease to exist, to be replaced, he reached to where the souls in the Underworld were kept. And, in his last moments, he didn't doubt to break the divine laws twice. Thanatos saw the most alive chance, Asclepius' soul, and ate it hoping to survive the divine punishment

• The other gods were disgusted at his actions, more so that he dared survive and defy them yet again

• So...they banished him to the mortal plane, cutting off his wings and cursing him with immortality

• He lost his identity, his purpose, his place, everything he knew...After his sins, was he even the same person from before?

• He doesn't even remember when his obsession started, only the deep loneliness and longing that enveloped him for the next 1200 years. Even then, he swears your brightness was the only light he could see

• So when his prayers of finally meeting you again were answered, he didn't wait any longer

• Apparently, you were now an adventurer and made a good living out of it. He didn't hesitate to take use of his abilities and disguise himself as a healer. Alyseos alredy had some reputation in town for being able to heal the deepest injuries and even revive the death. Your guild, though hesitant, took him in

• You didn't understand why the others seemed so...intimidated? By him? But he was such a gentle sweetheart with you! Always making sure you eat your three meals and patching up your exhausted body...he may be worse than your mom

• Or, well, at least that's your impression ignoring the literal shrine and detailed anatomy studies of your body he's dedicated you in his room...

• Don't worry if you notice some of your teammates suffering weird pests or acting like zombies after a certain brain surgery...

• Did he mention he loves euthanasia? He could end your friends' suffering if it was too bad <3

• Just never get out of his sight...he might as well go crazy if he has to suffer another millennium without his god

#wow finally...idk why it took so long xd #alyseos #yandere healer #yandere healer x reader #yandere x reader #sub yandere #male yandere #greek mythology #original character #digital art #artists on tumblr #character concept

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almundtofu · 20 days ago

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heh.. hi mootie😼 may i request high school sweethearts with Rin PLSPLSPLSPLSPLS I mean, thank you if u do😽

our spring, our story ₊˚⊹ ᰔ itoshi rin

note: HI MIMI thank you for being my first request i hope this was to your liking... i legit got stuck in the middle of writing this BUT !!! i did finish it so ENJOY :3

Itoshi Rin wasn’t someone who believed in distractions. Not when he had goals, not when the weight of his brother’s shadow loomed behind him, and especially not in high school—a time when most students were worried about tests and dances, while Rin was thinking only about soccer.

But you were an unexpected variable in his well-ordered life.

You weren’t loud. You weren’t flashy. You weren’t the kind of person who barged into someone’s life—you were the kind who simply walked in, made a home there, and left your scent on the air like blooming jasmine. You were just... you and he liked you for it.

The first time Rin noticed you was in the library. You were sitting two tables away, your brow furrowed as you chewed on your pencil, frustrated with a math problem. He wasn't going to say anything at first, but then you groaned under your breath and whispered, “Why is x always hiding? Just tell me the number.”

And he snorted.

Audibly.

You looked up, surprised. Rin looked just as shocked, both that you were talking to yourself and that he responded. Your eyes met, and you smiled, a little sheepish, a little curious.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to distract you,” you said, feeling guilty.

“You didn’t,” he muttered, a little too fast.

That was the beginning.

From there, things bloomed slowly but surely. You’d see each other in the mornings when he arrived early for practice, and you'd wave from the front gate as you munched on a convenience store sandwich. You always ate breakfast late, and Rin started bringing an extra onigiri, pretending it was “extra”—though he never forgot a day.

One afternoon, after school, you found him brooding outside the field. His team had lost a practice match, and though it was meaningless to most, Rin took it hard.

“Why’re you sulking like you lost the World Cup?” you asked softly.

He didn’t reply.

So you sat next to him, offering your favorite drink—strawberry milk.

He glanced at it and raised an eyebrow “Seriously?”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

He drank it. Every drop.

It became his comfort drink after that. And you’d bring it to every game, every training, every time he looked like the weight of the world was pressing down on his shoulders. No one else knew. Only you.

Then came the day when Rin finally confessed his feelings to you.

You were late, on purpose, maybe. Rin had asked to meet after school, voice low and unreadable like always. He didn’t explain why, just said, “Come to the courtyard. The tree near the bench.”

You knew which one. It was your spot. The one you both ended up at without meaning to—after tests, after practice, after long days when words felt too heavy and just sitting near each other was enough.

When you arrived, he was already there, as expected. He didn’t say anything when you approached, just glanced at you once, then looked away.

“…You said you had something to tell me?” you asked softly, brushing a sakura petal off your sleeve.

There was a pause. A long one.

“I’m not good at this,” he said, frowning a little.

You smiled a little. “At what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely at the space between you. “Feelings. Saying things out loud.”

Your heart did a quiet backflip.

You stepped closer, just enough that your shoulder nearly touched his.

“You don’t have to say everything perfectly,” you murmured. “I’ll understand.”

Another pause. Rin took a slow breath, then turned toward you, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.

“I like you,” he said finally. “More than I should. More than I’ve ever liked anyone. You… make things quiet. When everything else is loud and annoying, you don’t get in the way. You just… stay. And I want that. I want you.”

The wind picked up, petals swirling around both of you like the moment had been waiting its whole life to happen.

You bit your lip, then reached out and took his hand.

He looked down at your fingers entwined with his. You gave a light squeeze.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, too, Rin,” you whispered. “But I was waiting for you to be ready.”

Rin didn’t smile often. But right then, under the cherry blossoms, he did. A soft, rare smile that felt like the beginning of something quiet and permanent.

“…Thank you,” he said, his fingers tightening around yours.

And just like that, the space between you disappeared.

Your first real “date” was a spring festival. Rin didn’t like crowds, but you promised it would be quick—just the food stalls, and then you’d sneak away to the park near the river. He was stiff at first, quiet as always, but when you held his hand through the crowd, his fingers curled around yours.

Under the paper lanterns, he saw how your eyes glowed. How your laughter made even the fireworks seem dull in comparison.

“I don’t get why people like stuff like this,” Rin muttered, eyes tracking a sparkler you were waving in the air.

You nudged him with your shoulder. “Because even people who want to be alone deserve good memories.”

He turned to you and kissed your lips so fast you almost didn’t process it.

When you looked at him in shock, he looked away, face tinged pink.

“You’re one of my good memories,” he muttered.

You became his safe place. The one who could tease him out of a foul mood with just a touch. The only person allowed to nap on the grass next to him while he took a break between drills. The person he texted after every match—even if all he said was “Won.” or “Training sucked.”

And when he got into Blue Lock, and had to leave your school behind, he didn’t say much. He wasn’t good at goodbyes.

But he hugged you for the first time that day. His arms around your waist, his head on your shoulder. Breathing you in like he was trying to memorize the feeling.

“I’ll win,” he whispered into your hair. “For you. For me.”

You squeezed his hand and whispered back, “I’ll be here. Always.”

Years later, when Rin stood on the world stage, his stoic face as unreadable as ever, the camera zoomed in on a familiar charm hanging from his bag—a tiny, hand-stitched soccer ball with your initials sewn into the seams.

And in the crowd, you were there, wearing a jersey with his name and a smile that never changed.

Because some spring loves don’t fade. Some bloom, and keep blooming—year after year.

white banner by @/doll-fairy !!

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sleep-0-deprived · 11 months ago

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What would Yandere Bully be like if he was jealous of the nerdy reader?

Jealous Yandere bully head cannons~ ‹𝟹

The Yandere bully is first prone to bullying you because he hates the fact you out shine him, he hates that you’re perfect at everything you do without fail, it starts for him as pure un-denying hatred but over the time and span of him hating you he grows morbidly obsessed with you to the point you become his favorite person to bully just to have an excuse to touch you, even if it’s through punches, he’d leave notes and call you “smart ass” around school even mock your clothes if he could.

The Yandere bully is the type of person when he first meets you will start absolutely hating on you just for his own envy of how well liked you are. The guy cannot stand seeing others doat on you and he doesn’t understand if it’s because he doesn’t want anyone around you or if he wants to be you. the mix between his obsession and jealousy pair and clash together and.

The Yandere bully takes everything to a different level he’d watch you in the showers stare at your cock size in hopes to shame you infront of the school because he cannot stand being out done by a guy he thinks is “below” him. To his dismay when he sees you are no where near small down stairs, in fact you have half a inch on him and “you’re more veiny with your s/c tip an— “ well he gets lost in the details of your cock having the urges to blow you but he’s never admit to himself he’s a bottom or he likes you.

The Yandere bully will specifically take every class you take and try to write it off as him trying to ”one up you”, he can’t dare admit he just has a little obsession like a sick puppy over you, his fantasy’s of bending you over never seem to pleasure him. The thoughts his depraved mind floods is how the veins on your base would feel twitching against his inner walls. He will often times slap at you or pull your books away maybe even leave crude notes In your locker just to get you to notice him, if you have attention to anyone but him expect to be tormented for weeks cause you’re “his”

The Yandere bully totally changes after a good fucking, once you inevitably bend him over and get yourself inside him he’s like a lap dog, drooling pleading clawing at the bed sheets with mewls that sound nearly animalistic while you heave on top of him. He takes you fucking him as you becoming his. The Yandere bully might have started jealous of your academics but it slowly morphs into being jealous of your friends because in his eyes “why should you spend time when those nerds when you can have him?”

The Yandere bully would watch you from afar in the cafeteria bed watch who you talked to who you ate with and even who walked up to you, he’d silently mark them as his next target to bully and degrade. The Yandere would even beat them up out of spite for his own jealously, needing you to dick him down to get him back in order and sometimes he acts on his jealousy of you just to get “hate sex”

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kanroji-san · 2 days ago

Note

Heya, love your wiritting. If it's ok could I request a yandere saja boys with a reader who looks like and acts like Arrlechino from Genshin Impact?

The Ringmaster

Dark!Yandere!Saja boys x Manager!reader

⚠️Warning⚠️ yandere behavior, toxic relationships, stalking, psychological horror elements, violence, threats of torture, mentions of murder/disappearance, emotional manipulation, power dynamics, reader is based on Arrlechino from Genshin impact

Their fans called them gods.

You called them brats.

No one dared speak to the Saja Boys the way you did. With icy eyes and a voice like broken glass under silk, you were a walking paradox of beauty and danger—a soul-devouring demon clothed in a tailored suit, commanding their every move from behind the scenes.

And they worshipped you.

Obsession didn’t begin to cover it.

---

Jinu was the first to fall.

The so-called "face" of the group with a grin that melted nations—yet under your gaze, he was a whipped dog. You once caught him ignoring vocal warm-ups, so you cornered him against the mirrors and told him, in a voice sweet as arsenic:

“You either learn discipline, or I make you bleed until you remember how.”

He moaned your name later that night. Hands wrapped around a pillow. Eyes wild with hunger. You had carved yourself into his brain like a sigil.

Now he follows you everywhere. Smiles in interviews. Obeys every command. But don’t think it’s loyalty—it’s ownership. If anyone dares flirt with you, Jinu's grin doesn’t reach his eyes. And by night? He slips out, dressed in black, to remove the "distractions."

None ever return.

---

Abby was harder to break. The rebel. The provocateur. He smirked in your face during rehearsals and called you "Ice Queen."

Until the day you snapped.

With a dispassionate look, you walked into his dressing room, locked the door, and shattered his mirror with your cane.

“Mock me again, and I’ll take your voice. Permanently.”

He didn’t speak for two days.

Now, Abs thrives on your cold cruelty. His yandere manifests in madness—he wants to earn your punishments. Gets high on your disapproval. Would let you gut him alive if it meant a single stroke of your hand across his cheek. Anyone else who touches you? He breaks their bones. Quietly. Efficiently.

---

Romance flirts with you constantly—but never expects to win. That’s the worst part.

He’s addicted to your scorn. The way you raise an eyebrow. The way you call him pathetic when he tries to charm you. He lives for it. He wants you to insult him more. Degrade him. Break him.

But gods help the man who actually tries to touch you.

Romance once flirted with a host at an afterparty… and saw the look in your eyes.

“Enjoying yourself?” you asked. Voice low. Tone unreadable.

Now he only wants to please you. Beg for your affection. Wear the suits you pick. Sing the lyrics you write. His songs are love letters to your cruelty—laced with poison, dripping devotion.

---

Mystery never spoke to anyone but you.

He watches from the shadows like a beast in a cage. Only you can touch him without losing a hand. His yandere fixation is primal—he doesn't understand love, but he knows you belong to him.

He once saw a backup dancer accidentally bump into you. Mystery didn’t wait. No hesitation. The boy vanished the next day. No questions. No body.

Mystery clings to your presence like a curse. If you disappear even briefly, he grows unstable. Violent. The only thing that calms him is your hand resting on his head like a master to their loyal pet.

And he’ll burn the world if you ever show affection to anyone but him.

---

Baby was the living embodiment of fanservice.

Blowing kisses, making finger hearts, and throwing out cheesy lines like:

Fans ate it up. They thought he was a soft, harmless flirt.

But you? You knew the truth.

Offstage, Baby was a bratty gremlin in designer sneakers.

“Tch. That backup dancer was really close to you today. Should I trip him tomorrow?”

He whined when ignored, got clingy when tired, and passive-aggressively knocked people’s drinks over if they flirted with you.

All with a cute little pout on his lips.

He wasn’t violent like the others. He was petty.

Petty and possessive.

“I’m your favorite, right? I mean—duh. But still. Say it. Or I’m deleting your schedule.”

Sweet onstage.

Sour offstage.

Deadly if you ever tried to leave his side.

Words:867

I don't know how, but I got so caught up I turned it into dark yandere 😭 I hope the requester(?) wouldn't mind...

#kpop demon hunters #Kpdh #yandere kpop demon hunters #kpop demon hunters x reader #kpdh x reader #saja boys #yandere saja boys #saja boys x reader #yandere saja boys x reader #jinu x reader #abby x reader #yandere abby saja #yandere jinu #romance x reader #yandere romance saja #mystery x reader #yandere mystery saja #baby x reader #yandere baby saja

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bytemee · 3 months ago

Text

۶ৎ LUCKY FOR ME — kim minjeong.

“you’ll be here so lucky for me.”

⌗ in which— minjeong falls in love.

pairings. college!student!winter x college!student!fem!reader

warning(s). fluff, kissing, mutual pining, and let me know if theres more!

word count. 2.2k

authors note. laufey i love you. im also writing chat. its hard to write nowdays...if u guys have short prompts u can send them i need some practice

minjeong had never really been in love before.

she always thought love was supposed to be something you eased into, like a hot bath. something that made sense because when it's with the right person, it shouldn't be a puzzle, something to decipher. but then there was you. loud where she was quiet, messy where she was meticulous, late where she was always on time. a walking contradiction to everything she was, but like they say, opposites attract.

for example, positive and negative, up and down, winter and summer.

the first time she met you was in the library. not in some romantic, serendipitous way, but because she was the unlucky library assistant assigned to track you down for not returning your books. you had disappeared from the library after freshman year, only showing your face again when you absolutely had to. she, on the other hand, had practically lived there.

“you’re a hard person to find,” she had said, arms crossed as she blocked your escape.

“yeah, well,” you had shrugged, giving her a sheepish smile, “i didn’t think anyone would actually come looking.”

she had rolled her eyes, but a little bit of her irritation melted away. you had apologized profusely, even offering to buy her lunch to make up for the trouble you caused. she had told you it wasn't necessary, that it was part of her job, but you were insistent, and she made it her mission to avoid you so you wouldn’t be able to catch her off-guard again.

and then, at the end of sophomore year, there you were again. this time, she was at the coffee shop on campus, sitting with a study group. you had been in line behind her, and the barista had called her name wrong, and you had corrected him. and that was it. the moment that changed her life.

because when she turned around, her nose and cheeks still red from the cold, her dark brown hair falling out of the scarf that covered her head, the sight of you stopped her in her tracks.

you had smiled at her and said, "hey. you're minjeong, right?"

you had known her name.

after that, you kept showing up. in the library, at the coffee shop, even in the dining hall where she usually ate alone. you made excuses to talk to her, slipping into her world so effortlessly that she didn't realize how much she had started to expect your presence until the days felt emptier without you.

you had this way of filling up her quiet world, making everything brighter and more vibrant than she had ever seen before. you didn't just change her life. you changed her.

the way you'd hum softly under your breath when she studied, the way you'd tap her notebook absentmindedly while waiting for her to acknowledge you. you annoyed her in a way she never minded, always finding a way to disrupt her routine just enough to make life more interesting.

she caught herself looking for you before she even realized she wanted to see you. she'd look over her shoulder as she walked across campus, and when you weren't there, it almost disappointed her. sometimes, you'd surprise her, and her heart would skip a beat, but then you'd smile at her and tell her you missed her, and it would start beating again.

sometimes, she didn't understand why you liked her.

but you did.

it had started slowly, but now, the realization that she loved you hit her like a tsunami, and it scared her. it felt like she couldn't breathe, like she had a rock sitting on her chest. because she had never done this before, and even though it was the scariest thing in the world, it was also the best feeling in the world.

minjeong sighed as she put down the pen and picked up her phone. her finger hovered over your contact name, but instead of calling you, she texted:

do you want to join me for a study session tomorrow?

it only took a few seconds for the three dots to appear, followed by

sure! where and when?

tomorrow, 2pm. library.

sounds perfect. can't wait!

minjeong smiled to herself and put her phone back down on the table. she turned back to her book, her face bright red.

the next day, she arrived at the library early. too early. the clock on the wall barely hit 1:30, and she was already flipping through the pages of a textbook she had no intention of reading. every few minutes, she glanced up at the door, waiting for you to walk in.

and when you did—hair a little messy, wrapped up in a scarf that barely matched your jacket, your backpack hanging off one shoulder—minjeong nearly forgot how to breathe.

“hey!” you grinned, sliding into the seat across from her. “you’re early.”

“you’re late,” she teased, though she knew you weren’t.

you laughed, shrugging off your backpack and coat. you pulled out your own stack of textbooks, notebooks, and pencils, setting them down on the table with a loud thud. she couldn't help but smile, watching as you got settled and flipped open your notebook.

minjeong was lost in her own thoughts, so when you spoke, it startled her.

"so, did you invite me here just to stare at me, or…"

her cheeks burned, and she turned away. "sorry. i didn't mean to…"

"oh, no, don't be sorry!" you chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "i was kidding… if it makes you feel better, i was staring too."

"you were?"

"well, yeah." you blushed, ducking your head slightly. "i like looking at you."

minjeong fell in love with you. again.

and again, and again, and again. she can almost rewind time, remembering every moment where you'd shown her a new reason to fall in love with you. it's impossible not to notice when everything about you is perfect. when you make mistakes, it doesn't make her want to run away. instead, it makes her want to get closer. to see all of you, flaws and all.

the first time was when it rained in the middle of spring and neither of you had an umbrella. she offered to share hers, but the wind had other plans, flipping it inside out and soaking you both within minutes. you had laughed, really laughed, and winter had just stared at you, like she had never heard anything like it before.

there was the second time on a summer night when you stayed out too late, sitting on the roof of your dorm, looking at the stars, and talking about the future. she had fallen asleep with her head on your shoulder, waking up the next morning wrapped in your arms and covered in blankets. you had kissed her forehead gently, telling her to go back to sleep.

and the third time was during the fall evening when she found you waiting outside the library, arms crossed, blowing warm air into your hands. "you're late, you know," you had teased, and she had rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. that night, after studying together for hours, she invited you back to her room for the first time.

and here she was again. falling even harder.

the driver grumbled about the frost on the windshield, muttering something about how shitty the visibility was. you let out a slow sigh, sneaking a glance at minjeong’s side profile, then at the driver, then back at her.

“minjeong,” you murmured, your voice so soft and low she almost thought she imagined it.

she turned her head just a little. “hmm?”

and that’s when you leaned in, closing the space between you, your lips pressing against hers.

for a second, she didn’t move—too surprised to react, frozen in place, unsure of what to do. she felt like she was in a dream, like any minute, she was going to wake up. she felt a rush of emotion—an overwhelming, terrifying mix of excitement, joy, and fear, all at once. and then, like an ocean wave, it swept her off her feet.

and finally, after what felt like an eternity, she kissed you back.

your lips were soft and gentle, and she felt like she was melting. like she had been cold all her life, and finally, after years of being numb, she was warm. when you pulled away, her lips still tingling, you rested your forehead against hers, smiling at her softly.

the taxi came to a stop outside the dorm, the engine giving a final sputter as it powered down.

"we're here," the driver announced, sounding impatient.

minjeong’s head was still spinning from the kiss, and you could barely catch your breath. the snow continued to fall softly, each flake twinkling as it landed on the ground. she didn't say anything as she followed behind you, exiting the taxi and walking to the front door of the dorm.

and that’s when you realized—you didn’t have your keys.

you checked your pockets. nothing. a glance at minjeong’s face told you she’d caught on too, and you cursed under your breath.

"i'm so stupid," you muttered, running a hand through your hair.

minjeong reached out and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "you're not stupid."

you sat on the steps of the building, leaning back against the stone railing, and buried your face in your hands. "i can't believe this," you mumbled. "we're gonna freeze to death out here." minjeong sat down beside you, close enough that your knees touched. she put an arm around you, pulling you close, and rested her head on top of yours.

"it's not so bad," she whispered.

you lifted your head, looking at her in surprise. "it's not?"

"no," she said. she smiled, and it made you feel safe. "it's actually kind of nice."

you hummed in agreement before muttering, "roommate’s probably out, though. i’ll just have to call her to come back and open the door." you fished your phone out of your pocket, but before you could call, minjeong grabbed your wrist gently.

"don't," she said, shaking her head. "let’s just… sit here for a while."

you hesitated, then put your phone back in your pocket, leaning into her side. "okay," you whispered.

and that's how the two of you stayed, sitting in the snow, your breaths creating small clouds of smoke that vanished into the winter air. and when you felt her lips press against the top of your head, her warmth surrounding you, her fingers laced through yours, you didn't care how cold it was anymore.

minjeong had never really been in love.

so please forgive her for the helpless haze she's in when you're near.

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woso-dreamzzz · 6 months ago

Text

Flag VI

Barcelona Femení x Child!Reader

Summary: You go for a visit to see the Barcelona team

Ingrid ignores the odd looks she gets as she and Mapi step into the locker room.

She walks straight up to Caro, a smug grin on her face.

"I've got The Baby!" She says gleefully, rocking her body side to side as you giggle.

"Mapi," Patri whispers," That's not a baby. Your girlfriend knows that, right?"

"That's y/n," Mapi says in answer, hanging up her bag," She's Frida and her girlfriend's daughter. Ingrid's her auntie."

"Maanum, right? That Frida? What's she doing in Barcelona?"

"They're having a little visit before they go to Tenerife. Ingrid volunteered us for a sleepover last night."

Patri winces. "Was it bad?"

"She's delightful actually," Mapi answers," Ate all her dinner without complaints and had a cup of warm milk before bed. Most well behaved kid I've ever met."

"Caro!" You say happily," Caro! Caro! Caro!"

Caro smiles a bit awkwardly at all the attention, at the way you're trying to fling yourself out of Ingrid's grip and into Caro's arms.

"Hey, squish," She says," You're looking good."

"Caro!" You continue," Caro, cuddles, please!"

Caro takes you from a slightly put-out Ingrid's arms, bouncing you stiffly for a moment as you try to attach yourself to her.

It looks like Marta is trying to force herself not to coo at the sweet scene as you babble at Caro, rushing through everything that's happened in your life since you last saw her.

"This is so unfair," Ingrid complains as she sits down in her cubby, arms crossed over her chest as she watches longingly while you show off your new Barcelona shirt to Caro and Marta," I'm the one that she had the sleepover with. I can't believe she's gone to Caro...Again!"

"Again?" Pina snickers.

"Caro's her favourite at camp too," Ingrid continues," I don't understand how! I'm the one that always buys her new toys! I spoil her!"

"You're jealous of Caro because she's getting more attention from a child?"

"You don't understand, Jana," Ingrid says dismissively," Squish...Y/n...She's...She's such a little sweetheart and she's so nice and she has so much love to give."

"Mama says Caro has a soft spot for Maanums," You're telling Marta as you happily soak up the attention," And that if I'm scared at camp and can't find her or auntie Ingrid, I have to go to Caro because she's responsible and won't let anything happen to me."

Caro's face glows red at the statement and she tries not to meet the teasing eyes of her girlfriend.

"And you really like Caro a lot, huh?"

"Uh-huh! Caro is the best at cutting up my food small!"

"Really? What else is she good at?"

"She makes sure I'm wearing my hat when it's snowing at camp! And! And last camp, she took me to the vending machine to get cookies! But you can't tell my Mama because I wasn't meant to have any."

Marta laughs. "I won't." She grins at Caro, bumping her girlfriend with her hip. "I didn't know you were so good with kids."

"I'm not," Caro says stiffly," Just The Baby. She's cool."

"I think you're cool too, Caro!" You giggle.

Ingrid doesn't end up with custody of you again until after lunch when Caro goes off on a phone call and Ingrid can snatch you up again without anyone getting in the way.

You giggle as she litters kisses on your cheeks.

"There's my squish again!" Ingrid laughs," You came back to me!"

"Ingrid," You giggle, feet kicking out instinctively," I always come back!"

"Oh! I missed you so much!" She pulls you into a hug that you reciprocate quickly.

After Frida and Emma, you think Ingrid gives the best hugs. Even better hugs than Emma's dog Jordan and he's one of your favourite huggers in the world.

"And who's this little girl?"

"Alexia, this is my niece, y/n. Squish, this is Alexia, she's the captain of Barcelona."

You frown. "Like how Kim's the Arsenal captain?"

"Exactly like that."

You grin, face splitting open as you show off your dimples. "Hi, Spanish Kim! Oh...er...Ingrid...what was her name again?"

"Alexia."

"Hi, Alexia! It's nice to meet you."

Alexia can't help but smile as you hold your little hand out for her to shake.

"It's nice to meet you too, y/n. I didn't know Ingrid had a niece."

"She and my Mama are friends!" You explain," But we don't see each other a lot because I live in Sweden."

Alexia pulls up a chair, settling into it and leaning a bit closer so she can hear your properly.

"Really?"

"Yeah with Mummy and our dog Jordan. But then Mama brings me to Norway when I'm on camp so I can see Ingrid and Caro! They say I'm the team baby!"

Alexia laughs. "That sounds about right, you're still very little."

"I start school soon," You tell her, puffing out your chest," And Mapi told me last night that I'm a growing girl!"

Alexia nods along. "Of course you are! And you know what growing girls get in Barcelona?"

"No?" Your eyes go wide. "What do they get?"

"They get to choose things out of the vending machine!" Alexia tells you seriously as she offers her hand," Do you want to pick some stuff out with me?"

Ingrid sighs deeply as Mapi snickers. "Next time we get her for a sleepover, we're not coming into training the next day."

#woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #barca femeni x reader #barca femeni #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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504py · 11 months ago

Text

A day in a life with Ivan. [ONESHOT]

Warnings below the cut 。。。

⚠️ NSFW, yandere content, alcoholism, reader got tradwifed, stockholm syndrome, domestic violence, Ivan is very blatantly sadistic, size difference, dacryphilia, vague breeding kink, no use of Y/N, forced feminization(?), gender neutral reader.

hey yawll!! i drew this since i wanted to play more with the painting style and color palette i did in my last post, but since i hit 800 followers recently, i decided to write something to go along with it too!

thank you guys so so much for putting up with my bs and enjoying the slop i create LOL. hopefully this will be enough to thank you all and to satiate you guys till i come back from hibernation again 🩵🙏

also!! while this is a gender neutral reader, ivan still refers to you as a housewife. this is pretty much an extension of the headcanon post i did on him.

MAN I NEED TO RECONNECT WITH NATURE AFTER THIS 😭😭😭

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

The average heart rate of a rabbit is a hundred and eighty beats per minute. Much, much faster than a human's at only a hundred, the little hearts of rabbits pump virile blood into their vulnerable bodies in order to outrun the cursed life of a prey animal they have no choice but to live.

Living with Ivan feels the exact same way. You, a human, were reduced to nothing but a prey animal whose only line of defense was either freeze or flight. Ivan prefers the freeze response. Tries to squeeze it out of you as much as he can.

The morning begins normally. You wake up next to his large, minimally clothed body, while you're bundled up as much as physically possible. You don't understand how he's so comfortable in the cold, but you've learned not to liken him to humans. You gently wake him up before you leave the bed– you learned that he doesn't like waking up to an empty bed without any prior notice. It takes a while for Ivan to wake up, he's a heavy sleeper, but when his violet eyes finally open and dilate at the sight of you, the first thing he does is smile and pull you in to trap you in a strong bear hug. Don't struggle, he'll just tighten his grip. Then he kisses your cheek, and just holds you there without saying anything. He'll grumble a little when you tell him you have to leave bed to make breakfast, but he eventually will let you go.

It's a little sick how your current living situation makes chores the best part of your day, given how it allows the most proximity between you and Ivan. Cooking in the early morning is your favorite, since it takes Ivan a long time to recover from his hibernation. Thinking about what to cook is a bit of a meditative process as well, allows you to think thoroughly about anything other than your way of life and the man keeping you here.

Today, you decided to make something simple and similar to something you ate growing up. Luckily, Ivan is not a picky eater, even though he rather obviously prefers Slavic food. He'll eat whatever you make happily, but he'll be in even better spirits if you make something familiar to him.

You do not cook in silence. Silence has quickly become one of your biggest pet peeves since your captivity, and you do anything to drown it out. This damn empty mansion, the way Ivan is so terrible with his words and chooses instead to crush you with his actions, the bleak snowy landscape that greets you if you dare try and find any solace outside of this cage and your captor– It's enough to drive anyone insane. So, you pass the days by drowning out your thoughts with music and movies.

Ivan doesn't allow you a cellphone, or anything remotely modern at all. His home has a terrifying dedication to being so analog, you'd think you'd been transported to the 90's if not for the TV with a few streaming services on it, the only modern piece of technology he allows. He likes to collect cameras, radios, and old phones. Ivan's menagerie of antique goods is so expansive that it earned itself its own room. It's almost like a small museum, and you're very glad he allows you to look at and touch them as you pleased– with care, of course. He can actually be rather charming when he acts as your "museum guide" in this room. One of the few times you find yourself thinking anything remotely positive about him.

Ivan's voice is soft, it always is, but when he talks about these things he's so passionate about and so engrossed in, it takes on a bit more of a stern, confident tone that is easier for you to listen to. And when he's looking at the objects he's explaining, you can admire his side profile more openly. He's caught you multiple times (he has surprisingly sharp senses), and you're met with a flustered smile instead of the usual so-sweet-to-the-point-it-looks-fake type of smile.

"What are you looking at?" He'd ask, his voice quieting back down to that syrupy tone.

"Just you." You'd reply, which makes him pause in surprise for a second, before it earns a soft giggle from the towering man.

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Vanya." The nickname makes him melt. "You just looked pretty."

The smile falls from his face, and his cheeks redden even more than you thought possible, before his grin returns tenfold. He laughs and looks away.

The memory of such interactions make you feel like buttering up to the man instead of rejecting him so much, then you realize you're just describing stockholm syndrome. As crazy as it is, it feels like, at this point, it'd be better to let it happen than to be aware and hateful every day you live here.

As if your thoughts had alerted him, you hear Ivan's deceptively soft footsteps descend the stairs. He doesn't say anything, and just makes his way to the kitchen to watch you.

He's dressed in more clothing now, a dark blue sweater and gray sweatpants. His neck is left bare around you. When you first met him, his clothing that purposefully covers his neck always went unnoticed by you, because such clothes fit him so well, like they were always meant to be there. It was only after your capture, when he took off his scarf and you saw the bandages around his pale neck did you start to question it.

You've never outright asked him, you worry the subject is too volatile. He just... decided to stop hiding it one day. It was after a shower when you first saw it, the ligature marks around his neck and a few faded pink scars on the front of his adam's apple. Ivan noticed you staring, and you've never seen him look so small and insecure before.

"Is it bad?"

"No." You shake your head. "Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore."

And that was that.

You finish plating up two dishes, one with a significantly heftier portion than yours considering how much he eats. You quickly place the chopping board and all the pans you used in the sink to wash later, and you bring the dishes to the table.

Ivan yawns, rubs at his eyes, and without much event, just picks up a knife and a fork and starts eating. You do the same only after fetching some tea from the samovar.

Breakfast is always quiet besides the background noise of whatever media you chose to play.

"Mm. Ёжик в тумaне?"

"Yeah. I like this one."

"A little somber, isn't it?"

"The hedgehog is cute. I relate to it a little bit."

Ivan takes his eyes off of the television to look at you, and ponders what you said a little more. He doesn't say anything, and continues eating.

"What will you be doing today?" You ask, in case you needed to iron some clothing or prepare extra food for guests.

He hums in thought for a moment. "I'll be going out in the evening to drink with the other nations."

"What will you be wearing?"

"What I usually do."

You nod, "I'll have it ready soon."

"What about you?" He asks.

"Hmm... I'll wash the dishes, then iron and press your clothing. After that, I'll think of what to cook for lunch while cleaning the house, and I'll prepare a meal for you before you leave. Then while you're away, I'll clean up some more and prepare dinner. And if I have some time, I'll sit and watch some more movies."

Ivan hums in satisfaction. He enjoys how strict to routine your lives were. Familiarity and stability are what he desires most, and he believes you're the only one who can grant him that wish.

"Perfect." He smiles, petting the crown of your head with a large, broad hand.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You adjust the dusty pink scarf around his thick neck after finishing wrapping the scars on his throat with bandages. You do it neatly and comfortably, as opposed to how Ivan does, quickly and efficiently, learned from decades of routine, yet it's still so much more uncomfortable compared to when you do it.

"How is it?" You ask. Ivan replies by taking your smaller hands in his and leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"You do it perfectly, любовь моя." He sighs, before pouting slightly. "I wish I could just stay home."

"You'll be alright, Vanya. Alcohol is like water to you anyways."

He snickers and rolls his eyes. "That just means it'll be boring for me, then."

"Just try to have fun and relax. I'll be safe and quiet here."

A mousy smile appears on his pink lips. You've said exactly what he wants to hear. "Alright. I'll just get it over with." He presses one last kiss to the top of your hair before leaving.

"Don't cause any trouble!" Ivan sings, before exiting the living room and closing the door behind him. You get a glimpse of the blindingly white outside world, and a gust of stinging cold air brushes against your skin like a warning.

You let out a taut breath, finally feeling like you're able to breathe without his crushing presence. You dust off your hands, from nothing in particular, before going off to do just as you said to him earlier. It bothers you how much he still affects you without even being around.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The sky is dark, and all that is heard is the droning of soft music and the burbling of something boiling on the stove. Its tranquility is broken by the door opening with more aggression than usual.

"Vanya?" You call out, hoping the sweet usage of his nickname would quell whatever spawned this roughness within him.

All you hear is something vaguely resembling a groan and a sigh, and his heavy, thudding footsteps. Your heart starts to race a little.

"Is something wrong, Vanya?" You ask meekly, approaching him with caution. He reeks of alcohol, and his movements seem all sluggish. Jesus, how much did Russia of all people need to drink in order to get this wasted?

"I'm alright." He huffs, taking off his gloves and his coat with slight difficulty. You step in closer to help him undress, taking off his scarf. You don't miss how he tenses up, so you freeze and meet his constantly intense stare to gauge his expression. His eyelids are low, pupils contracted, eyes darker than usual, and cheeks flushed like they always are. He seems to be pouting a bit. He doesn't do much else, so you continue, stripping him of his large overcoat. All he's left in now is a black sweater and thick brown slacks.

"I've made dinner. You can just sit wherever you want and I'll bring it to you–"

Ivan leans in so quickly, you couldn't even register it in order to dodge or deflect his kiss in time. This time, it lands on your lips. He doesn't do this usually at all, unless he was planning something. The blood drains from your face when his large hand finds the back of your neck, and holds it stiff, preventing any chance of backing out.

His skin and the inside of his mouth are impossibly warm, and the bitter, sterile taste of vodka is the only damn thing invading your senses. You grip the fabric of his knitted sweater, it makes him part from your lips to pant like a dog and take said piece of clothing off, now left in a dark gray shirt.

"V-Va– You taste like alcohol–"

"Get drunk off of me." He whispers, before grabbing the sides of your arms and kissing you tongue first, lapping at your lips, and at this point, you learned better than to deny him. With all the mental fortitude you could muster, you rigidly part your lips. Despite all your efforts to be as pliant as possible to try and guarantee your safety, you can't help the shiver of revulsion when his tongue invades your mouth like a parasite and rubs against yours.

It feels like time slows down, you can feel the milliseconds before your instincts kick in, and each millisecond feels like a year of dread. Unable to stop raw instinct, you bite down.

Your heart stops when you hear him grunt, and feel his grip around your arms tighten before he shoves you away. He gasps, cursing under his breath in his mother tongue before setting his sights back on you.

Doe-eyed and trembling like a leaf in a hurricane, you begin to plead.

"N-No, no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Vanya, please–"

He approaches, kicks the back of your knees, before you are grabbed by the scruff of your shirt. The collar of your blouse is yanked back and presses the fabric tightly against your throat as he drags you to the front door. You're coughing and struggling to regain your footing, and the moment you can breathe, you beg.

"Please! Nonono– Vanya please don't do this I'll be good–" The words tumble out like unorganized clutter using the one short breath you were able to catch.

With one more harsh tug, you fall to your knees again, and the door opens. The sight of the snow immediately triggers something within you, and you begin sobbing.

Ivan takes a peak at you, seemingly taking pity.

"Only for a few minutes."

You shake your head in a frenzy, not believing a word he says. Even if he was saying the truth, you'd much rather continue to humiliate yourself over being outside for even a few seconds. What if he forgets about you? What if that door never opens again? What if you die a miserable death, separated from your survival by just a few inches of wood?

That's why, the moment he throws you out, you scramble to your feet and shove that damned door open before he can fully close it. You know you're in deeper shit when you hear the door slam against him, and the deep yelp that follows it. You run for your life into the confines of his house.

You quickly make way to one of the bathrooms, the only rooms in the house you're still able to lock from the inside. You knew even that meant nothing, since you're sure Ivan could and would break them down without a second thought. Yet, it was still your best shot.

You lock the bathroom door and sit on the flooring right next to it. You try to calm down your heartrate and your heaving so you could try and listen in on whatever was going on outside this room.

Eerie silence is what greets you. You hate it, hate it so much. Shuddering, you hold your breath and strain your ears just a little more.

And that's when you hear it.

Soft footsteps.

You have to bite back a scream from how much raw fear that little sound sends shooting through your nervous system. Makes your skin crawl so bad that it almost hurts.

Ivan's clearly not in any rush, but FUCK did you wish he'd just get it over with and sprint right at you. You're sure he knows where you are, he just likes to freak you out, you can tell. That sweet smile he always puts on is nothing short of sadistic, constantly has this look in his eyes, some kinda weird sparkle that tells you he enjoys watching you struggle beneath him. Knowing you'll be face to face with those very eyes shortly makes your ribs squeeze around your quaking lungs and heart.

The footsteps approach. You brace yourself for a rough kick to the door or a pipe slamming through it.

Instead, he knocks. This was wrong, what was happening? Oh, god, this was so much worse.

"I won't ask again."

Scrambling to the door, not even sparing any time to actually stand up, you open it. You wince when you strain your neck to look up and see the damage done to him by your outburst. A nasty, bloody bruise on the bridge of his tall nose and that same crimson liquid streaming down his nostril. Your chest shakes like a dying sparrow's.

"I-I'm sorry. Please."

And he smiles.

Ivan is actually, genuinely, extremely pleased right now. He's wanted this all along, for you to fear the outside world so much you'd do anything in the world to stay here, right by his side. He doesn't give a single shit about the injuries you've caused him now and in the past, he's strong, he can take it, and he'll always forgive you over and over again. Of course, it makes him annoyed, because what good housewife would beat their husband like that? But he understands that your circumstances aren't exactly normal, so he'll endure it with irritation. At the rate he's breaking you in, though, you'll soon be as pliant and obedient as he expects you to be. Perhaps you'll even start to love him back. Just the thought of it raises goosebumps on his porcelain skin and makes his hands tremble in excitement.

You don't understand why he's giggling right now.

He sighs your name, and crouches down to meet your stare. You flinch as a droplet of blood hits the tiles. Ivan's grin only widens when your shaking hands reach for his face and try to wipe the blood away.

"O-Oh, Ivan," You whine uselessly, getting up on boneless legs to grab the first-aid kit. He watches with bright, amused eyes. He knows you won't try anything anymore. He's confident in your compliance to him.

As carefully as you can, you wipe off the blood with paper towels, crying harder when it smears instead of going away completely like you'd hoped. It felt like your mistakes were going to be impossible to fix.

Ivan's cheery gaze never falters. Maybe this is the happiest you've ever seen him, despite the blood streaming into the gaps of his teeth and forming a grotesque image. Dusty eyelashes frame his smiley crescent moon eyes, cheeks ruddy as little alcohol-stained puffs of air pollute the cold atmosphere. You jolt when he chuckles throatily.

"What's wrong?" His voice is as sickly sweet as it always is.

"Y-You're mad– I made you mad. I'm sorry." You choke on your own words, trying your best not to drop the bottle of disinfectant in your weak hand.

"What did you do?"

"I–" You hiccup, "I d-didn't– I didn't listen to you. I wasn't good."

Unable to hide his pleasure, he laughs and leans in to give you a chaste, bloody kiss.

"It will be okay. I love you."

You're glad your crying masks the gag reflex that almost makes itself apparent when you know what you have to say next. You steel your nerves and dryly swallow the taste of Ivan's blood.

"I love– I love you too."

He gives you a pleased, closed-mouth smile, and presses a kiss to the top of your head before taking the bottle of disinfectant from you. He begins to tend to his own wounds.

"This does not mean I forgive you, though."

Just as you felt your whole world crashing down around you, Ivan saves you.

He breathes out a laugh, "No, I won't throw you outside again. It's much better staying inside with me, yes?"

You nod in a frenzy. "Yes! Y-Yes, much better. Please don't."

"Well," Ivan prefaces, disinfecting the cut on his nose before placing a bandaid on it. He turns his head to the side and spits out the blood left in his mouth. "You will have to tend to this wound. Kiss it better." And before you could even wonder what he meant by that, his tongue lolls out, brandishing the red bite mark from earlier.

Disgust registers for only a second.

Like an automaton made solely to serve, you lean forward, grasp onto his biceps, and press a needy, desperate kiss to his drooling tongue. He laughs while you lap at his tongue like a wounded dog, warm, alcoholic breaths brushing against your face.

After relishing in the feeling of your worship for a little longer, he gently pushes you to the ground and crawls over your jittery body, placing a hand against the small of your back to hold you up and closer to him, with the other gripping the outside of your thigh.

"You will not bite me this time?"

Nodding fearfully, praying the conviction in your eyes will be enough to warrant his forgiveness, you wrap your arms around his neck.

Sighing happily, he presses his cold lips against yours, taking the lead happily as he moans into the kiss. The sound was more out of the satisfaction of establishing his dominance rather than the actual physical pleasure.

Ivan doesn't usually indulge in sexual fantasies or acts, which surprises you considering how touchy the man is. His mind usually favors daydreams of a stable, domestic life with you. Ivan prioritizes establishing your relationship over anything else, so he doesn't really find the time to lull over menial things like sex. Marriage is one thing, but your total submission is another.

Then again, this doesn't mean that he fully doesn't have any carnal desires when it comes to you. It's you, for christ's sake. When his fantasies of dominance come into play, it seems only obvious that sometimes his thoughts wander into the bedroom.

Ivan fantasizes a lot about having you desire him as much as he does you. He wants you to need him like air. Wants to have you mewling his name and clinging to him like your life depended on it, which would quite literally be the case right now. Wants to see your pretty, pretty tears reserved only for him. Wants to see you fall apart in his arms over and over again while comforting you so meanly and kissing your crying face.

Ivan tries his best to not let these thoughts make themselves apparent, but fuck, do you make it so hard sometimes. How could any man not be affected by the sight of their adorable little housewife in an apron? Takes so much for him to not just grab you by your hair and bend you over the counter. Whenever you cry for whatever reason, he almost feels guilty over how instantly horny it makes him. Almost feels guilty when all he can think about is licking those tears off of your face and making himself the cause of them. God, he wants to play the role of a nice doting husband so bad, but he can't help but feel you up and breathe down your neck when you try on the dresses and lingerie he buys for you. He can't help grabbing your waist and pressing his erection against your ass– not on purpose, he just wanted to be close to you.

While aggressive in his approach, Ivan never forces any sexual acts that you refuse. Even if he's left high and breathing heavy, he still wants to be someone you don't completely hate. Be a good husband, be a good husband. He always chants to himself. All his prayers proved fruitful when he quite literally cried tears of joy during your first time together.

Ivan doesn't know what was different that day, he didn't expect anything, just to make out and have you reject him after a bit, but you just... kept going, until he was ramming into you, hands tight around your sweaty waist and fucking into you like you were just a fleshlight. He's never seen himself like this, moaning and gasping like a girl and feeling so fucking good that all that he wanted– all that he could think of was breeding you like a bull and how beautiful your family would be. God, the memory of you struggling, doing your best to take his thick cock and crying so cutely just trying to bottom out is engraved into the grooves of his brain. It makes his stomach feel all warm whenever he thinks of it. He wants to carve it under his eyelids so he can see it every time he blinks.

Ivan laughs a lot during sex, call him creepy, it's genuinely because he is just so damn happy that he can't hide it. Why should he hide it from you? He wants to show you just how much he loves you and how good you make him feel. You make him feel so damn happy and complete that all he could do was chant IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou– while whimpering, giggling, his tears dripping onto your face.

Maybe he'll get lucky again.

Without parting, Ivan carefully lowers your back to the tiled floor, straddling your body and snaking his long fingers under your blouse, resting them against your heated abdomen. He smiles into the kiss when you jolt away, tickled by how frigid they are.

The ends of his feathered gray hair tickles your wet face, your body shivering at all the different sensations attacking you simultaneously. The cold tiles, his freezing hands, his hot tongue, the faint taste of blood, the warm drool seeping out the side of your mouth, his arid breathing, the smell of alcohol–

Your hands, still by the back of his neck, reach up to ever-so-slightly tug at his hair to signal you needed a breather. Ivan makes a small noise of surprise, before pulling away.

He looks absolutely dazed, lips shiny with remnants of a spit trail, and lavender eyes heavy and glazed over with a feral lust. His breathing is labored, muscular chest rising and falling as he intently watches every minute expression your face makes. Despite the blatant lack of nudity, this might be the most erotic sight you've ever seen. Fuck, why does he have to look so good when you're supposed to hate him?

Right now, you were so exhausted you couldn't even remember what reason you'd have to hate him, despite there being enough that you could spend the rest of your life listing all of them down.

And just when you try to refuse by backing up, your thigh brushes against his boner and he lets out the most heated, breathy, shivery moan you've ever heard. The vocalization sounded like it was tailor-made to tantalize you, to tempt you into biting the fruit. And you know what? You were a sinner anyways.

"Bed– B-Bedroom."

A toothy grin appears on Ivan's face, and he exhales a breathy laugh. He looks absolutely delighted, and starved.

Without a second thought, he picks you up, and carries you to the closest one.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The next morning begins normally. Your body is sore, and covered in bite marks. That was one of the best sleeps you've had in recent memory. Ivan seems to think so, too, with his arms cradling your torso and a hand resting over your lower abdomen. The ache reminds you about what happened yesterday, you can still feel him in there somehow.

You woke up a little later in the morning compared to usual. Since you're still a little too exhausted to get up and begin cooking, you lay there for a while, listening to the quiet howling of the wind outside. You wonder when was the last time you heard any birds chirping.

Thinking of the outside world brings you a bit of dread, don't really like doing it. But when your life is so isolated and so alone, misery can become a form of entertainment.

The more and more days go by, the more and more do you forget what your life was like before meeting the Russian. The longer you live with Ivan, the more does it feel that he was just always there, and that your life before meeting him was a falsified memory. You're not even sure how much time has passed since, it's always snowing outside, every day feels the same.

That's the one thing you remember from before this life, the feeling of warmth. You're not sure you remember the feeling of it, really, but you're well aware of the absence it leaves behind. Maybe when spring finally comes around, you can open that door, and...

Eyebrows furrowing as a migraine starts to set in, you shake your head weakly. You didn't like thinking about the outside.

Turning over to face Ivan, you gently wake him up before you leave the bed– you learned that he doesn't like waking up to an empty bed without any prior notice. He eventually stirs from his sleep, hugs you, and you do not struggle.

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

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