#crying and cursing captor

[yanderenightmare]

2023 collection part two

July

BNHA—Yandere captor Deku and all his selfish imposing ways:

♡ SELFISH

BNHA—Shigaraki finds his soulmate:

♡ FATE CAN BE A BTICH

JJK—Naoya x cureless maid reader:

♡ PROPOSAL GIFT

BNHA—Alpha Bakugou mating his terrified Omega reader:

♡ Five Steps for Alphas Mating Omegas

BNHA—Poly wolf-boys Bakugo and Deku with a bunny reader in heat:

♡ HEATED

HQ!!—Bully Tsukishima helps you study:

♡ DINKERBELL

JJK—Mahito discovers his carnal urges:

♡ PLAYTHING

JJK—How scary is yandere captor Gojo:

♡ SCARY

JJK—How strict husband Naoya is with his little wife:

♡ LUCKY BRIDE

JJK—Sukuna making terrified reader sit in his lap:

♡ SCARY-HOT

JJK—Sukuna tells you his real name:

♡ FORGIVEN

August

JJK—Cult leader Geto takes advantage of one of his devotees:

♡ MONKEY

JJK—Geto likes seeing you cry:

♡ DACROPHILIA

September

JJK—Toji was paid to kill you but decided to take you instead:

♡ BARGAIN SALE

JJK—Toji fucking his captive darling:

♡ smutty drabble

BNHA—Yandere Shigaraki roofying his cheerleader crush at a party:

♡ CHEERS

JJK—Cockwarming Mahito while he reads you horror stories:

♡ SCAREDY-CAT

BNHA—Deku terrorizes his ex-girlfriend:

♡ GREEN PAISLEY

BNHA—Parole officer Bakugou accepts your bribe:

♡ OUR LITTLE SECRET

BNHA—Jock bully Bakugou fucks nerdy reader:

♡ SECRET OBSESSION

BNHA—Bakugou likes his hopeless classmate:

♡ COOKING CLUB

JJK—Yandere Yuta x kidnapped reader:

♡ SAFE

BNHA—Shigaraki is all about the tits:

♡ TITTIES

JJK—Gojo and Geto x assistant supervisor:

♡ SUIT

Misogynist boyfriend keeps you captive:

♡ A SHITTY MOVIE

October

JJK—Sukuna with his beloved before he became a demon:

♡ SPIDERLILLY

BNHA—Douche fuckboy Deku and his biggest fan:

♡ FANGIRL'S DREAM

JJK—Geto x curse darling:

♡ PAYMENT

JJK—Gojo x curse darling:

♡ MEETING ♡ LIVING TOGETHER ♡ ANGST

BNHA—Shigaraki reacts to his darling developing Stockholm Syndrome:

♡ KISSES

BNHA—Overworked and touch-starved Prohero Bakugou x girlfriend reader:

♡ ONE MORE TIME?

JJK—Mahito can't transfigure you:

♡ PURE

JJK—Megumi surprisingly has game:

♡ SHAMELESS

JJK men x curse darling:

♡ CURSE DARLINGS

BNHA—Wolfboy Shigaraki buys bunny reader from a sex trafficker:

♡ DEAL

JJK—Sadist Gojo with curse darling:

♡ WEAKNESS

JJK—Mahito goes from platonic yandere to romantic yandere:

♡ PET 

Thirsty thoughts on big yanderes x tiny darlings:

♡ FUN-SIZED

JJK—Nanami comes home tattered and bloody from a job:

♡ GONE

JJK—Megumi when he’s older and looks more like Toji:

♡ THE APPLE DOESN'T FALL FAR

BNHA—Orc Enji x elf reader:

♡ ORC x ELVEN PRINCESS ♡ ORC x ELF

November

Thirsty thoughts on big yanderes x tiny darlings:

♡ GENTLE GIANT

BNHA—Fuckfriend Bakugou turns yandere:

♡ BORING

BNHA—Yandere captor Bakugou wants captive darling to be willing:

♡ WILLINGLY OR NOT

JJK—Bully Gojo teaching his little victim a lesson about who she belongs to:

♡ BULLY GOJO

JJK—Bully Gojo & Geto drugging crush:

♡ ODD…

BNHA—Reader develops Stockholm Syndrome for Dabi:

♡ PERFECT

BNHA—Incel Bakugou kidnaps reader to be his sex-puppet:

♡ TOUCH

JJK—Poly Gojo and Geto sharing captive darling headcanons:

♡ HOUSEWIFE

BNHA—Prohero Bakugou going yandere for childhood friend and coworker:

♡ EMPTY SHELLS

BNHA—Hermit forest-dweller Bakugou takes lost hiker reader captive:

♡ HERMIT

JJK—Bully boyfriend Gojo roleplay and fluff:

♡ NEVER

JJK—Gojo being a pervy wierdo with strange taste:

♡ WIERDO

JJK—Smug teasing boyfriend Gojo:

♡ PLAY

JJK—You didn't pay Toji's fee, so now he's coming to collect:

♡ BOUNTY

BNHA—Gross Shigaraki makes you wash him:

♡ SHOWER

Step-bro creeps on you:

♡ CREEP STEP-BRO

BNHA—Yandere sadist Shigaraki is really into BDSM:

♡ PET

BNHA—Shigaraki drugs and fucks Dabi's pretty girlfriend:

♡ GOODIE TWO SHOES

JJK—Sex therapist Nanami being pervy with his patient:

♡ SEX THERAPY ♡ SEQUAL kinda

Orc master loves making a cum-slut out of his pretty elf slave:

♡ ORC x ELF ♡ ORC x ELF

Punished for trying to run away from your yandere captor:

♡ PUNISHED

JJK—Ex-boyfriend Sukuna fucks you at a party:

♡ EX

BNHA—Poly Proheroes Bakugo and Deku blackmails criminal reader:

♡ STREET SCUM

JJK—The Itadoris all living together in a run-down house:

♡ SHAMELESS

BNHA—Dabi has new cock-piercings he wants to try out:

♡ ARMED AND READY

December

BNHA—Soldier Hawks & Dabi knock on your door and expect to be fed:

♡ THE QUARTERING ACT

JJK—Mahito is like a nosy roommate:

♡ PRACTICE

JJK—Arranged marriage with Geto, but he shares you with Gojo:

♡ ARRANGED MARRIAGE

Yandere kidnapper softly nonconning darling:

♡ SOFT NONCON

BNHA—Incel Shigaraki crushes on the pretty store clerk at the comic/game shop:

♡ CUSTOMER SERVICE

Colleague crushing on reader in office au:

♡ CUT TO THE CHASE

JJK—Sorceror reader teasing imprisoned Sukuna:

♡ INSUFFERABLE

JJK—Alpha Gojo teasing Omega reader:

♡ SCARED?

Strict yandere captor hates when you curse:

♡ FILTHY

BNHA—Shiggy and Dabi share a darling:

♡ PULLED LEFT AND RIGHT

BNHA—Shigaraki is the worst BNHA yandere:

♡ FILTHY

Yandere kidnapper takes your virginty:

♡ VIRGINITY

JJK—Sukuna gatekeeps you:

♡ CHASTITY BELT

BNHA—Alpha Bakugou figures out why he bullies Omega reader:

♡ LESSON ♡ HEAT

JJK—Gojo is too late to make you his:

♡ SOMEONE ELSE

JJK—Yandere Gojo fighting your man for your hand:

♡ DUEL

Your strict teacher fucks your throat raw in detention:

♡ DETENTION

♡ 2023 COLLECTION PART ONE ♡ ALL MASTERLISTS

[satorusugurugurl]

would you able to do smth that’s pure full angst??? like angst that doesn’t lead up to smut, love your work btw!!

Choose

Summary: Gojo is forced the choose between his two best friends, Geto or you.

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru AFAB!Reader (slightly implied??)

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, violence, torture, blood, physical abuse, pain, character death

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: y’all wanted angst, I deliver 🙂‍↕️ enjoy your meal! Thanks @sugurubabe for your help!

The room was musky, thick was the humidity that had sweat heading against your forehead as you lay on the floor wheezing painfully before another blow hit your stomach hand. You curl into a fetal position, crying out in excruciating pain as boots crunched against broken glass that littered the floor. This wasn't how the mission was supposed to go; it was supposed to be easy!

A curse, a grade-two curse! Something both you and Suguru should have been able to handle! But it seemed as though there was no curse, none whatsoever.

What you and Suguru found waiting for you was a curse user and an assistant supervisor who had betrayed you all. Everything had happened so fast. The woman led you down a hall, revealing this supposed curse. You were in front of Suguru, listening to details and trying to sense the nonexistent cursed energy when a heavy thud sounded from behind you.

Nothing could have prepared you to see Geto on the ground out cold. The sight left you frozen in shock as your eyes darted back to the assistant supervisor holding a plank of wood stained with a bit of blood. You tried to act fast, reaching into your uniform to throw a talisman paper at the traitor, but the world went black for you. Someone hit you from behind.

When you came to, Suguru was still out, and the hats when the curse user began his shitty interrogation. He asked over and over again where Gojo was, and every time, you had a smart-ass remark. Which ended up with you getting the shit kicked out of you.

“I’ll ask you again.” The curse user barked out, crouching down next to your face. “Where is Gojo Satoru?”

Holding onto your stomach, you smirked, slowly lifting your head to look at your captor. “Your mom’s house.” Instead of a kick, the bastard backhanded you, making you wince before you cupped the side of your face, trying to hide the pain that you felt throbbing in your cheek.

“I don't like wasting time, and I don't like little liars.”

“Yeah, and I don't like assholes who beat up a couple of teenagers!” You yelled back, ignoring the iron taste that flooded your mouth.

“This is going nowhere; I thought you said the three were inseparable.”

That was true; Before the three of you were sort of a thing, going on dates, making out, sleeping together in the same bed. And that’s how it had been true until last year after the Star Plasma Vessel was killed. Ever since that fateful day, things have changed between you, mostly Gojo, but you could tell Geto was also starting to pull away too. He wasn't sleeping well, refusing to come to your room, go on dates, and you were both getting sent on more solo missions. You were honestly surprised you and Geto had been assigned this mission together, but even the two of them were slipping apart it seemed.

You’d been excited, looking forward to working together with one of your boyfriends? (Maybe you guys weren’t official yet), and had been planning to go on a soba noodles date afterward. Things were supposed to have gone differently today. What you imagined as a pleasant time with one of your best friends had turned into a literal nightmare.

You shot a glance in Geto’s direction. He was still out cold, but from the movement behind his eyes, you were hoping he was going to come soon enough. If you worked together, you might get out of this without further injuries. Until then, you just needed to continue to buy some time, and you could accomplish that by being extra annoying. You did learn from Gojo firsthand.

“T-They are—I thought they’d be assigned this together.”

“Well, he ain't here, is he?!”

“Yeah, sorry,” you spit your blood-laced saliva on the ground, “the band split up!”

“Oh did it?” The curse user asked, cocking a brow down at you.

“Yep! So I wouldn't count on him showing up anytime soon.”

That should have been enough to deter them from following through with whatever plan they had. But your words made your captor smirk. He said nothing as he reached into his pocket, tossing your phone to the traitor, before he moved fast, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking you to your feet.

“Why don't we get the band back together then?” You tried out in pain as he slammed you back down against the floor, lifting your head an inch as he crouched behind you. “Take a picture of her and Geto, and send it to Gojo along with the address.”

The flash was both blinding and suffocating as you struggled to free yourself. This wasn't good; you knew if Gojo were to see it, he'd come running. You were his best friends, and even thought he's been busy with training and all the missions he had been sent on, you knew he still cared for the two of you. And when he showed up, he would fall right into the hands of these monsters who were worse than the curses you constantly took out.

With the second flash that flooded the abandoned hospital room that was only illuminated by the light of twilight, you felt panic swell in your chest. You thrashed and screamed against the man still holding you down on the ground, watching in horror as they texted Satoru from your phone. This wasn't happening; it wasn't real; this was a terrible nightmare that was going to end soon, right?!

“There, done.”

“No!” You screamed, kicking your legs out underneath you. “No! You bastards!” Tears welled in your eyes as you focused on Suguru, grimacing near you. “Suguru! Suguru, wake up!”

“You’re too loud!” The curse-user shouted, kicking you in the stomach a second time, followed by a third, before he kicked you in the ribs.

The impact of that fourth hit had you dry-heaving and sobbing from the pain. You collapsed on the ground, vision blurring for a minute before a crashing sound from down below caught your attention. You wheezed painfully, trying to pull yourself up. You had to tell Satoru to run, that it was a trap, but you couldn't speak. Every breath you took was like stabbing to your stomach, to your lungs; everything hurt.

“Suguru?! Sweetheart?!” Satoru yelled, bounding up the stairs towards you. While you might not be able to speak, you used all of your strength to crawl, inching towards the doorway. Maybe your actions would prevent him from stepping closer. “Where are they, you bastard?”

“T-Tor—Toru—” you gasp out, crawling closer to the door to have the assistant supervisor kick you in the stomach this time. “Agghh!!” You screamed out, and you could hear the footsteps running closer to the door.

You didn’t want him to come inside, to be the reason he fell for a trap. But your prayers and wishes didn’t come true. The door flew open, and your best friend stood in the doorway, his blue eyes taking in the scene in front of him. He met Suguru first, watching as his best friend blinked a few times as he started to regain some form of consciousness. Then, pretty cerulean eyes found you. You could see the rage burning within the irises.

“Ah, the infamous Gojo Satoru, finally we meet.” The curse user unsheathed a katana from his side, licking his lips. “. you sure do know how to piss off a lot of people. And a lot of these people want to hurt you in so many ways. I was hired to deal with that pain for them.” The Curse user said in a condescending tone. “They want you to suffer, and they want to hurt bad. So prepare yourself; it’s not going to be pretty.”

“S-Satoru—run,” you whined, trying to lift yourself.

Your friend threw his head back and laughed out loud. “I don't no dumb ass hired you to ‘hurt’ me, but I’ve been living under a rock for the last year. I’m stronger than I was before, and nobody will kill me. So my friends go, and I’ll deal with you.” You couldn’t help but grin even though the pain was excruciating; leave it to Satoru to have a snarky comeback.

“Oooh, I’m sorry, there seems to be a misunderstanding.” You blinked, watching as the traitor bitch dragged Suguru towards you, throwing him down next to you, leaving him groaning as he blinked hard, trying to come to his senses. “I didn’t say I was going to kill you. I said I would hurt you, and unlike my clients, I have to know you are untouchable. So if I’m not able to hurt you physically, I decided hurting you emotionally would be much better.”

“Huh?”

The katana slammed against the floor right between you and Suguru’s heads. “Choose.” The curse user said in a deep voice, leaving your eyes wide as you stared at your reflection in the blade.

Satoru froze up, eyes focusing on you and Suguru on the ground. “What?”

“Pick one, him or her.” You swallowed as Suguru's eyes widened in shock.

“I ain't picking one over the other!” Satoru snarled out, looking back at your captor, who was smirking.

“You aren’t going to pick?”

“Fuck no!”

The curse user hummed, twirling the katana around in a circle. The dying light menacingly reflected off the blade. You swallowed harder, looking into Suguru’s eyes as the katana twirled faster. This whole situation, everything about it, left you feeling sick to your stomach.

“Then I guess we’ll choose for you!” The curse user announced, picking the katana up out of the ground.

“You—”

“Nuh-uh!” The katana slanted into the ground, an inch away from your face, making you cry out and fear. “Come near us, use one of your special moves, and I’ll slice both their heads off right here. You might be the strongest, but I can assure you that I’m the fastest.”

Your stomach twisted in pain and fear as your breath fogged against the blade. This really couldn’t be happening right now. You choked on a sob, as the katana lifted out of the ground, allowing you to stare into Suguru's eyes. He swallowed, exhaling through his nose as he inched closer towards you. That subtle action to let you know that everything was going to be okay, that he was there by your side, only caused more tears to stream down your cheeks.

“It’s okay, everything’s gonna be okay,” Suguru whispered, his eyes darting towards Saroru, who was clenching and unclenching his fist in apparent concentration, his eyes roaming between the curse user, the traitor, and his two best friends. “Satoru will figure this out; we’ll be okay.”

“Shut the fuck up!” the katana slammed down again, cutting strands of Suguru’s bangs. “I don’t like repeating myself, Gojo. And I believe I ask you a question. Choose. Someone has to die today.”

Dark eyes glittered with amusement as Suguru looked up at the curse user. “You obviously don’t know my friend, he would nev—”

“Suguru.” Satoru blurted out. You slowly turned your head to look at the tufts of white hair that dropped as he clenched his fists harder.

“Satoru.” Suguru purred out, smiling. “What I can—”

“I choose to save Geto Suguru.”

Your stomach twisted in pain as you felt tears welling in your eyes as the curse user barked out a laugh, moving the katana so fast you didn't see it slicing Suguru’s bindings. Was your mind playing tricks on you? Did he re—really just pick Geto? Was he choosing to let you die?

You meant nothing to him?

Your stomach churned with nausea as the room started spinning. You felt like you couldn't breathe as Satoru refused to look at you. He did, and he picked Suguru over you.

Tears blurred your vision as you listened to Suguru cursing as he was quickly unbound. “Wow,” the man towering above you breathed out. It looks like you see where you stand.” Anger and betrayal hit you as you whirled to glare.

“Fuck you—nngh!” he kicks you in the stomach for a fifth time. And the impact made you see dark spots.

“You heard the man; it’s time to die.” he kicked you again, rolling you onto your back, where it was hard to breathe. “I hope you're watching Gojo Satoru; watch the hope and trust she had for you fade along with her life!”

The katana rose up, and you shut your eyes, waiting for the pain to hit. Instead of your cries of pain, the man above you screamed. When you forced your eyes to open, you watched as one of Geto's curses shot out, swallowing the man’s upper half in one bite, before swallowing the rest of him in another. Weakly you turned your head as the traitorous bitch was wrapped up in one of Suguru’s other curses.

Your beaten and bloodied best friend was panting as Satoru stared at him in shock. As if he couldn't believe he had stepped in. But his shock quickly dissolved into realization as his head turned towards you, and he moved, running towards you.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, reaching to lift you up. But as his hands inched towards you, you pulled away from him, tears running down your cheeks. “Sweetheart?”

“Don't touch me.” you wheezed, vision blurring as your stomach twisted in pain. “Don't you ever fucking touch me again, you son of a bitch.”

“Sweetie, I—”

“Don’t touch me!”

Satoru pulled his hand away as if your words badly burned him. “I-I—” You laughed out bitterly, turning your head, and it was a look Gojo would never forget.

Your eyes were dull, blurred with tears, but he could see the betrayal and hatred swirling within them even with their dull hue. You wheezed deeply, blood seeping out of the corner of your mouth as Geto rushed towards you on the phone, calling Yaga. But nothing mattered nothing but you right then and there.

“Sweetheart, I-I wouldn't have let them hurt you. I promise!”

“You chose Geto.” you spat out, a droplet of blood jotting Gojo’s infinity as you curled in on yourself. “You chose to keep him alive and let me die.”

“I wouldn't have let them!”

“Bullshit!”

The pain in your face was like a million needles to Gojo’s heart as Geto told Yaga about what had happened. “That’s enough right now, you two! Satoru, Yaga wants you to take her back to campus so Shoko can help.” Gojo could see the shame in Geto’s eyes as he hung up the phone. “Princess, Gojo’s going to teleport you to the school.”

“No,” you whispered with a shake of your head.

“Come on! I won't hurt you; let me help you!”

“Don't you fucking touch me! I'd rather die than let you touch me. And you shouldn't have an issue with that, seeing that you picked me to die.”

Satoru gritted his teeth with anger but backed off, giving Suguru a shrug as the other man sighed. “Whatever.” With a sigh of annoyance, Sugiri picked you up princess-style and started running out of the room, heading down the stairs to get you in the car while Satoru followed behind, staring at the ground in shock and disbelief.

He knew you were mad; anyone would have been angry. But he panicked; he had to make a choice; otherwise, he would have lost you both, and that was something he was never going to let happen. Maybe he yelled out Suguru’s name because he was closer to him. Or perhaps it was just out of reflex, but he meant it when he said he would save both of you. There would be no way he would let anything happen to you. Both of you were his best friends.

You were just angry now; it would take some time, and he would explain that to you when you calmed down. All you needed was a little bit of time and space. What was the saying? Time heals all wounds?

Yeah, that was it. He just needed to give you some time to process what happened and allow your wounds to heal.

“Huh?” Gojo asked as he stood in the morgue, staring at Shoko.

“I said there wasn't much we could do.”

His eyes trailed down to the body that lay on the metal slab between him and Shoko. Your face was lax, your eyes shut, and bruises were discoloring your pretty face. This was a joke; it was all a fucked up joke for what he had said, right? You were going to sit up and say ‘jokes on you’ or ‘I got you bitch’ right? But your skin was too ashen, your pulse wasn't racing in your throat, and he couldn't sense your cursed energy with his Six-Eyes.

You were gone.

“B-But I don't understand. W-What happened, she was—she was fine.”

“On the outside, maybe.” Shoko lit a cigarette, holding it between her teeth as she moved some of your hair from your face. “But she took several kicks to the stomach, it looked like, and the sheer force formed an abdominal hematoma that ruptured with that last kick. If she got here a bit sooner, then maybe, just maybe, we could have saved her.” Shoko frowned, pulling the white sheet back up to cover your face. “But there wasn't anything we could do.”

Satoru's hands started shaking as he smelt earthy musk and mint approaching his side. He swallowed hard, turning to find Suguru staring down at your body, an almost unreadable expression on his face. What was he supposed to say in a situation like this? One where they both lost their best friend?

“She stayed true to her word,” Suguru whispered as he turned, his white button-down shirt tucked into his pants, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “I’m going on a mission to the countryside and won't return for a while.”

Satoru turned, glaring as Suguru opened the door to the hall. “What the hell do you mean she stayed true to her word?!” Suguru paused before looking back at Gojo with dull, lifeless eyes that almost mirrored yours the last time you had looked at him. It was so eerily similar that Gojo took a step back.

“She would have rather died than have you touch her.” His eyes focused on your body before he met Satoru's teary eyes. “And she did just that, all because of your choice.”

With that, the door slammed shut, leaving Gojo standing in the morgue with the body of one of his best friends while his other went off on a mission alone. A mission that would lead to him massacring an entire village. Little did Gojo know his choice would cost him the lives of both his best friends.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

[hees-mine]

The boy in my class - L.HS

Extended teaser

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader!

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, cnc, pervert/stalker heeseung, bathroom sex, cursing, multiple orgasms, fingering, with animated pictures.

Genre: dubcon, if this bothers you please do not read!

WC: 2k+

-

Everything happened so fast. One minute, you were walking down the empty school hall headed home for the day, and the next moment, you felt a pair of strong arms wrapping around your torso from behind. The action caused you to miss your next step and sent you falling back into their chest.

Before you registered what was happening, your mouth was being cupped. You felt your body being dragged backward, and you couldn’t utter a word or scream for help.

You tried to grab onto something, anything, but it was futile as your nails scraped against the wall, chipping away the paint.

Your eyes are wide with panic, your muffled screams being heard by absolutely no one as you get taken to what you quickly identify as the school bathroom, and soon, your body is being maneuvered to face your captor.

In your state of panic, you didn’t even think about who it could have possibly been that snatched you out of the hallway, but when you see his face…..

It all came together.

The boy in your class.

Lee heeseung.

The guy who had a crush on you, the one who wrote love notes to you, the one who begged you to give him a chance, but you never did.

Simply because he was weird you’d catch him staring at you from afar following your same path on the way to school and one time he even sent a love letter to your house which you’re not sure how he got the address but luckily it only happened once so you didn’t bother to bring it up to anybody.

Not to mention his appearance wasn’t the most inviting. He was tall, lanky build, shaggy hair that nearly covered his eyes and was shaved on the sides. He wore big round frame glasses and didn’t take time to tie his tie properly or iron his school uniform.

To sum it all up, you just didn’t like Lee heeseung, and you never reciprocated any of his advances, which makes you wonder why he’s got you trapped inside a bathroom against your will, but he makes his intentions all too clear as he firmly presses himself against you.

Fear runs throughout your veins the moment you feel his bulge nudge against your core, and you want to scream, but your mouth is covered by his large palm. “Shh shh, it’s okay. I got you.” A tear runs down your cheek as you realize there’s no help for you in this situation. “No, don’t cry,” he coos, swiping the tear off your face. “Mnot gonna hurt you, just wanna make you feel good,” he whispers and kisses you on the cheek.

His free hand slides down to the button on his pants, quickly pulling down the zipper and letting the material fall to his ankles. Next comes his boxers.

His lower half is completely naked as his hard dick stands tall between his thin, tanned legs.

You try to tell him no, that you don’t want this, please stop, but nothing comes out of your mouth when you finally attempt to push him off. He just pushes you against the sink, leaving you no space to move. Your feeble attempts at pushing him off didn’t seem to deter him as he hiked up your skirt.

“Just let me do it. You’ll like it, I swear,” he murmured in your ear, your body shivering from how calm he sounded while you literally fought to get him to stop.

He grabbed the base of his thick cock, pressing himself on your core.

You squeezed your eyes shut, whimpering when you felt him rubbing himself on the most private part of your body.

“See? It feels good, right?” He takes your cries for sounds of pleasure as he humps your clothed crotch.

You shook your head back and forth, but he didn’t notice, too lost in the pressure of finally having you the way he dreamed of having you, the way he imagined every night while touching himself.

“I’ll make you feel so good you’ll fall in love with me,” he speaks softly, resting his forehead against your own, holding your hip to keep you still while he ruts against your white cotton panties.

You attempt to close your legs, but it’s no use. Your body is at his mercy. “No, no, stay still f-for me.” he reaches down, pushing your legs apart.

Once he has you opened up for him, he grabs the crotch part of your panties, slipping them to the side so you can feel him better.

“See?” He breathes out his warm dick sliding through your wet folds. “You’re even getting wet for me. I know you, me. I know you want this.”

-

read full story only on my patreon!

[at-this-point-i-dont-even-know]

Always and Forever (2/?)Jack Abbott x Reader

About: Jack Abbott lost his wife in the war, and her memory haunts him for six years, three months and twenty four days.

Warnings: MDNI- smut and angst ahead - I don't know anything medical or anything military so everything is just a guess

A/N: I have split this in half because this chapter was getting away from me, this half is already 8 pages long.....

tag list: princessjayll

part one/part three

It was so noisy when you awoke, the sound of blades banging over head, richocing through your pounding head. You tried to sit up and grab your aching skull, as if you could calm it with your touch. 

Ice fills your veins as you pull against the soft restraints that hold you in place.

God please not again you cry out, either internally or vocally, you no longer knew the difference. 

Please just let me go, you sobbed over and over again.

So time passed and your grief came in waves.

The first few weeks (you guessed), you were calm, saying only what you had been told to in training. You told them your name, your rank as a Field Doctor and your ID number. You repeated it over and over again, as they tried to get anything further out of you.

After that came the rage, you swore at your captors, screaming, calling them all the worst words you knew under the sun. And since you knew three languages fluently, and all the swear words of two others, it kept you entertained as the beatings finally stopped.

You skipped over bargaining, there was nothing you knew that would give you your freedom, and depression, well that stage stayed from day one until now.

You had no idea how long you had been a captive for, there were no calendars to tell you the passage of time, and all the movies that show prisoners scratching out days on the walls lied. No captor would give a captee anything strong enough to mark up a wall. Then they had let you out, freedom as long as you didn’t run. You stayed, helping the women and the children. You think the war may have ended in the time you were there but you didn’t know. You didn’t speak their language and they didn’t speak yours. So you nursed the sick and helped the injured, then curled up in the tiny bed you were given and mourned the life you had known.

The only thing that kept you sane, was the memory of him.

Doctor Jack Abbott, your best friend and husband.

It was his memory that kept everything at bay when the pain came too much or the darkness too dark. 

--------------------------------------------------

You hated him at first, he was arrogant and talkative from the moment he walked into your medi-tent. You were hands deep in a civilian, who happened to be on the wrong side of the road when an IED went off, when he sauntered in, flashing you a cocky grin before one of the nurses strapped a mask over it. 

“Who do we have here?” he asked, looking at the patient instead of you. Your hackles were up, besides you and your sister there was only one other female surgeon in the area, so you were prepared for him to treat you like a nurse besides the fact you were the one running the operation and the one with blood up to your elbows. The last doctor who had worked alongside you had done that, and the one before, you were sick of the arrogance of male doctors.

“Female, late forties, shrapnel in chest and upper thigh, uncontrollable bleeding in the gut, unknown origin.” you call out the situation without looking at him, your fingers expertly running the intestine looking for any nicks or damage.

“Have you checked no man's land?” His question has you rolling your eyes and you can’t help but pause your work to look at him through your eyelashes.

“No- I just thought I would run the bowel for no fucking reason.” you hissed and he laughed.

He fucking laughed and you curses.

“Who the fuck are you?” 

“Doctor Jack Abbott, it's nice to meet you.” Even with the mask on you could see him smile through the material, and it makes you want to throw something at his face. This was no place for smiling.

---------------------------------------------------

You feel yourself dozing off again, energy gone from your bones as the sound you hear finally connects with your long forgotten memories.

Helicopter. 

You were in a helicopter. You hadn’t been in one of these since your captor, so either those who had you had finally advanced their situation beyond anything they had had before, or you were rescued.

You were not dumb enough to fall for the idea of a rescue. 

That would be idiotic. 

And childish.

-------------------------------------------------

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“What?”

“Your favourite colour, what is it?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because I think we are going to be together for a while, and I want to know your favourite colour.”

“No offense Dr Abbott, but fuck off.” You turn away from him mid scrub and finish up at a different basin, feeling his eyes on you.

“I’m just trying to get to know you.”

You scoff and he laughs. The sound isn’t as jarring as it should be. You ignore that.

“I don’t need to get to know you Dr Abbott, I know your type. You signed up for the army so they could do what? Pay off your school fees? Get you away from your wife? You look like you have one tour in you, then you’ll go to the reserves and then once you’re Stateside in a cushy job in a private hospital you can tell tales of your time in the Army over drinks with your friends who will all think you're hot shit for being so brave.”

Your words stopped him in his tracks and he turned to look you straight on.

“You’re wrong, on all fronts, I’m here because I want to help, and as for a cushy job stateside, I did my internship and residency in Emergency Medicine at John Hopskins. I’ve seen my fair share of bloodied and bruised bodies. I have spent days in an OR stitching back woman and children that have been attacked in their homes by ICE, or gangs, or their own fucking flesh and blood, long before you even finished your senior year of high school. I came to this god forsaken place to find a reason for it all. And as for tours, I’m on my third and I’m here as long as they will have me. Is that good enough for you, sunshine?”

You nod, taking it all in, this man before you with his salt and pepper hair aging before his time and his eyes that lit up with fire behind them with every word.

“And-” he said, with that shit eating grin back on his face, “I’m not married.”

You nod again and run your hands under the limited water you have.

“My favourite colour is Lavender, it's also my favourite smell and flower.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

You awake again, still strapped with the soft restraints but this time as you throw your head back to take in your surroundings you don’t hit rock or cement but a pillow.

A fucking pillow.

That's all it takes for a sob to rip through you and for you to finally register where you are.

It is a helicopter, now on the ground, with english signs above the door and american voices coming from the cockpit.

“Fuck-” you breathe out and then flinch as the voices become louder, a body coming towards you, bending to not hit their head on the roof.

“It's good to see you Doc!”

You look up at the young face of the soldier before you, he has freckles over his nose and a boyish look that you can’t help but smile at.

“Is this real?” your voice is crackly and exhausted from only three words.

“As real as it can be.” the young soldier promised, “We are heading to Germany for a quick check up with a doctor there and then hopefully by the end of the week we will have you back on American soil!”

Home.

To your sister.

To Jack.

You can’t stop the laugh that breaks through.

It's over.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“I was wrong about you.” you laugh as the afternoon finally settles.

You and Jack have been juggling patients for over three hours, what started out as a simple clinic day had ended with two amputations and one soldier heading home early without his spleen. 

So as you scrubbed out, you can’t help but enjoy the sight of Dr Abbott losing a fight with his mask, the knot not breaking against his strength and his fingers too exhausted to complete the simple action he finally just dragged it over his face, a crinkle forming between his brow.

“Really?”

“Yeah- I was awful when you joined, I’m sorry.”

You might be a bitch, taking after your oldest sister, but you knew when to admit when you were wrong and your first impression of the cocky doctor before you was very wrong.

He was still cocky, but he was smart, quick thinking and kind. So much kinder to all, you had forgotten what kindness was after your own two tours.

He was a breath of fresh air in the warm desert climate, and you couldn’t help but enjoy every moment with him.

“Do you want to get a drink?” 

You raise a brow.

“Did a new bar open up in downtown Nowheresville that I didn’t know about?”

“I have two warm American Cokes in my bag that I think have our names on.”

You laugh and he smiles, and god you want to see him smile more. It was like someone turned on a light after you had spent years in the dark.

You stop suddenly, your heart beating in your throat.

Oh.

Oh.

You have a crush!

Fuck!

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“Physically other than dehydration, she’s fine. She has a few broken bones that have healed at angles that are not fantastic but as long as she is okay with not running some marathons in the next few months, I can’t see any reason for keeping her here.”

The heavily German accented doctor was talking to someone on the phone when you awoke, the soft restraints gone and now your hands are free and you're laying back down on a mattress, a hospital mattress that feels too soft against your exhausted body.

“Doctor-” 

“I have to go Doctor Walsh, your sister will be on the next plane out of here to Pittsburgh tonight.”

Your sister! You hold your hand out, trying to grab at the phone before the doctor hangs up but he turns away from you and leaves the room without a word or even a glance at your outstretched hand. 

Emery! You wanted to talk to her, to hear her voice. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack kissed like he performed surgery, with a passion that had your knees buckling and your body falling into his.

He pulled her closer, and they fell backwards into the thankfully empty med tent.

The whole camp had cleared out earlier that day, except for  you two and a handful of soldiers who were too busy losing all their money to each other in poker to notice as you and Jack slipped away.

You two had been skirting around each other for months, stealing glances or touches like you had stepped out of one of your Victorian Mills and Boon novels. 

Tonight was meant to be a quiet night, where you would pack up your kits and be ready to leave the next morning, but after you beat Jack in poker and then made one or two meaner comments on his manhood, the tension between you both was tangible.

“Lets get some air.” he had growled into your ear, sending a cold shiver down your spine. 

You nod, not trusting your own voice at this point. 

“Do you have something you need to tell me?” He asked as soon as you were out of earshot of the others.

You only smirk, and push him lightly on the shoulder, the words you want to say are lost on your tongue as his eyes reflect the full moon above you.

You didn’t have the words to explain what you had to tell him, how do you tell someone that he walked into your life when you were at your lowest, when you were so disillusioned by the entire concept of life and while you were not looking for an escape you were also not looking for a saviour. How his incentent chatter during clinic hours, surgeries or even dinner had turned from irritating to a calming balm against your own demons. How he was your favourite reason to get out of your bunk every day.

You stare at him, and stop walking, stopping just before your tent door and grab the lapels of his shirt.

“I like you.” you admit, the words heavy between you and he just stares so long at you that your stomach drops and you let go, stepping away. 

He doesn’t think the same as you immediately think and you start to turn away, your face flushed with embarrassment before he grabs you, pulling you back to him.

“Thank god-” he breathed out, “I thought it was just me!”

The taste of him was like coming home, you moaned against his lips, unable to stop yourself.

The sound was Jack's undoing and his hands, now entwined in your hair, dug into your scalp and he pulled your head up slightly.

He was taller than you, so with this new angle you look up at him, and he bites gently at your lips.

Your hands don’t stop roving over his body, ripping away his jacket and undershirt, you are desperate for skin, to feel his warm soft skin against your calloused hands.

He kisses you again, his tongue fighting yours as you both burned for each other. Jack lets go of our hair and his hands now snake around your body, grabbing your ass and lifting you into the air. Your legs immediately wrap around his waist and you can't stop the moan as the friction of your pants tightening around your heat.

“Fuck- Jack.” you say against his ear as he kisses down your neck.

“That’s the plan, babe.”

“Ew! I hate babe!” you laugh as he nips at your collar bone.

He grounds into you, and you cling tighter as he moves you both to the cot, with one hand holding you in place he throws all his packing onto the dust covered floor.

You laugh as he tosses you onto the now empty bed and steps back, looking at you like you are prey and he is a hungry predator.

You were not a virgin, not even close, but you had never had anyone look at you like that. 

He moves slowly, his fingers trailing over your body as he unbuttons your simple uniform shirt, you help him shrug it off before he grasps your trouser button and rips it off. The moment is almost cinematic until you both realise you had forgotten to remove your boots.

Suddenly the magic of the moment is gone and you are both laughing as Jack struggles to remove them.

“Seriously! How do these even fit you!” he hisses as the boots refuse to move.

You push him out of the way before getting up to kick them off. Jack leans against a crate of boxes, his eyes tracking the movement as you dance around the tent trying to get the boots off.

“I should sell tickets to this show.” he muses out loud and you stop, cocking your brow and putting your hands on your hips. It would be a formidable look if you were not topless, with your trousers around your ankles with only one boot on.

“You want others to see me like this?” 

“God no!” he growled before pulling you to him, your lips colliding as he kissed away any further protest.

You both fall back into the cot, your body wrapped around each other as you grind against the length of him, still wrapped in army issued trousers you whine against the friction.

You needed him in that moment, in every moment, your body ached for more.

Your tongues tangle, and you could feel his heartbeat against yours, before he broke the kiss, causing another whine form your lips. You blush at how vocal you are with him, but he only smirks and nips at your bottom lip.

“I could listen to you all day.” he purred before shifting down the cot, his face now level with your crotch.    

As your eyes locked, he slid a finger into you, pumping it in and out agonisingly slowly as you pushed up into his touch.

More you begged, internally or externally you were not even sure any more as Jack took his time, laughing as you tried to take his finger deeper.

“Patience.” he purred again, this time his breath against your inner thigh, you flinched at the contact of cool air against your now vey sweaty skin, and he licked your leg, before returning to his minstations, adding another finger.

You rode his hand, grinding into him as he cursed your name, your mind scattering into oblivion as your body bowed off the cot as you succumbed to the climax screaming his name.

He didn’t stop to give you a moment, his tongue now joining his fingers he pulled you immediately into another earth shattering ending, your body now screaming for a release from the enjoyable torture.

“Gods-” you said as he finally let you go, your body already missing his attention as he crawled into the cot next to you, pulling you to his chest as you felt sleep overtaking you.

“You didn’t-” you tried to say, to argue that he didn’t get his own happy ending, but he just kissed your temple and told you to get some sleep.

“There is plenty of time for me." he promised.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

The flight from Germany to America was somehow both long and short at the same time.

You were given a shot of something in your now always present IV bag that had you falling asleep before the young soldier who had now been with you for multiple days could even get your gurney wheeled onto the carrier. 

Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean you had awoken from your drug induced sleep with a start, screaming from a nightmare that you couldn’t quite remember as you tried to readjust to reality.

The young soldier, who once again told you his name and then you promptly forgot it again, had handed you an ipad with a newspaper app open.

“It might be good- to see what's been happening.” he said, his accent twanging on each vowel.

“Where are you from?” you asked, quietly, your voice still not really back.

“Arizona, Madame.” he said before turning back to the magazine he had been reading.

You smiled weakly, “I bought a house in Arizona with my husband,” the boy turned and looked at you, “It has a wrap-around porch and big windows that look out over the Tucson Mountains.”

“Did you love the sunsets? I miss the sunsets when I’m away.”

You sigh and look up at the roof of the plane, “I never got there, we bought it when we were shipped out. I was about two weeks away from going home when I was-” you can’t bring yourself to say the rest, “But I hope to see it soon.”

“I hope you see it too Madame.”

[aventurineswife]

Hi! It's me again. Sorry if you haven't gotten to my requests and there is a limit to how many a person can request at once, pls just lmk <3 I just need to get this off my system because I have been cooking on this for days and haven't found many accounts who take requests

Platonic Boothill, Ratio, Aventurine and Gallagher with a young reader who is a former slave (like Aventurine though they escaped by sheer force) and the characters get the news that they got snatched up by the previous captors.

Stars Don’t Belong in Cages

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Gallagher x Reader, Teen!Reader, Platonic, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Rescue Mission, Angst, Protective, Trauma, Emotional Bonds.

Warnings: Mentions of Slavery, Past Abuse, Violence (Rescue Scene), Emotional Distress, PTSD/Trauma Responses.

Tagslist: @themiddletenmasibling

Boothill had never been a sentimental man. He had no patience for crying, no love for the helpless. But you—kid, you were different. You had grit, fight in your bones, the kind that reminded him of himself.

And now you were gone.

Word had reached him that your former captors had dragged you back into their grasp, and something inside him snapped like the cocking of a revolver.

The saloon quieted as he stood, chair scraping across the wooden floor. He adjusted his hat, the shadow hiding the wild fury in his eyes. The Galaxy Rangers knew what that meant—someone was gonna die tonight.

"Who told me this?" His voice was eerily calm.

A nervous recruit, still wet behind the ears, swallowed hard. "Got intercepted by a merchant ship. They saw ‘em take the kid near Malbura Ridge—"

Boothill was already moving, his cybernetic fingers tightening into fists. His teeth, razor-sharp, flashed in a snarl. "Then what the fudge are we waitin’ for?"

His mechanical legs carried him to his ship in record time. He didn’t wait for backup, didn’t bother with strategy. He knew one thing—he was going to kill every last one of the bastards who laid a hand on you.

And he wouldn’t stop until you were safe.

Ratio rarely lost his composure. Even in the face of ignorance, in the presence of fools, he could maintain his air of superiority. But this—this was unacceptable.

He had raised you to think, to question, to defy those who sought to shackle your mind. And now those wretches had dared to take you? Again?

He had no patience for incompetence. He was above emotion. But for the first time in years, he felt it. Anger. Cold, precise, and all-consuming.

He adjusted his vest, then turned to his fellow Intelligentsia members. "We will be leaving immediately. I expect cooperation."

One of them hesitated. "Dr. Ratio, is this—"

His glare silenced them. "I will not repeat myself."

Within hours, he had tracked your captors’ coordinates. The plan was simple: a precise strike. A devastating lesson. He would dismantle their entire operation, leave nothing behind but ash and regret.

They had dared to take his pupil? They would soon understand—ignorance was curable, but stupidity had consequences.

Aventurine had always believed life was a game. A roll of the dice, a well-played hand. But when he heard the news—when he learned that you had been taken—he felt something he hadn’t felt in years.

Fear.

Not for himself. No, never for himself. But for you? His little wildcard? The one person who could match his wit, keep up with his tricks?

That wasn’t something he was willing to lose.

He exhaled slowly, adjusting his rose-tinted glasses, his fingers tapping a precise rhythm against his sleeve. "Well, well… Seems I have a debt to collect."

His informants were already at work, tracing your location, your captors' weaknesses. He didn’t act impulsively—no, this was a game of patience. Of strategy.

And when the time was right?

He’d make sure your captors paid.

They thought they could outplay him? Please.

This was his game.

And Aventurine never lost.

Gallagher didn’t speak when he heard the news. Didn’t rage, didn’t curse. He simply set down the glass he had been polishing and exhaled.

He should have seen this coming. Should have done more to protect you.

The familiar ache in his chest—the one he had tried to drown in whiskey—burned anew. Another person, another innocent, taken by the world’s cruelty.

His hand clenched around the flask at his waist.

He had promised himself he wouldn’t get attached again. Wouldn’t let his heart break for someone he couldn’t save. But this wasn’t about him. This was about you.

He grabbed his coat, fastening the police badge at his chest.

"Gallagher?" One of his men hesitated. "Are you sure you wanna—"

He met their gaze, his eyes dull with exhaustion but steeled with resolve.

"Yeah," he muttered. "I’m sure."

He had failed once before.

He wouldn’t fail again.

[msmk11]

Heyyy, I just saw that you were taking requests for Tangerine x Readers, and I was wondering if you could write something like Tangerine and reader being fwb before the whole bullet train thingy, and she catches feelings but he's super distant (bro has serious attachment issues) so he pushes her away and is a bitchy manchild about it (LOTS AND LOTS OF ANGST but it has a fluffy ending) (smutty too if ur comfortable with it) ofc u can ignore this request if u don't want to, and I'd write it myself but I have zero motivation rn and I js wanna cry and then giggle😭🫶

And I Have To Live With It, For the Rest of My Life

Tangerine x fem!reader

WC: 3.4k

CW: HEAVY ANGST; slut shaming; booze/being drunk; fighting; cursing; lack of aftercare; mentions of sex; Tangerine is a HUGE asshole. Tiny fluff ending.

A/n: Hi love! Thanks for requesting! Sorry this took so long I just needed to find inspo. I’m also sorry for the lack of smut (and fluff tbh,) I just don’t take smut requests. As for fluff, I did want a “happy ending” but it felt cheap to try and go from ANGST to “everything is perfect again” in such few words. Maybe I’m just traumatized, but I have a hard time forgiving quickly lol and I think that shows here.

Everything was really, really good.

So of course you had to go and ruin it.

People say you can’t control matters of the heart and you think that it’s a load of bullcrap. Why not? Why couldn’t you have control over your heart?

And why did you have to catch feelings for Tangerine?

It isn’t part of the deal. Tangerine is a business partner. An acquaintance. A friend. A friend you occasionally fuck.

Your relationship with Tangerine was always supposed to be casual. No strings attached- business was simply business and fucking simply fucking. But then your heart got involved.

What’s one supposed to do?

Certainly not keep going back to the captor of one’s heart.

So of course that’s exactly what you do.

You’re laying in your hotel bed, completely naked, covers pooled around your waist. You and Tangerine just finished having sex and he’s already up and moving about, throwing on his clothes that had been discarded on the floor somewhere in your flurry of lust. Instead of saying anything, you just watch him in all his glory. You admire his tousled post-sex hair, curls askew, the way his back muscles ripple as he bends down to sweep his shirt up off the ground, and the way his fingers deftly button up his shirt.

“Got a meeting to head off to?” You ask casually.

Translation: Please don’t run off so soon if you don’t have to. Stay.

Tangerine’s eyes flit to yours briefly before he bends down to tie his shoes, “something like that.”

“Mhmm.”

You pull the covers up to your neck, suddenly feeling very vulnerable so bare and exposed to Tangerine who’s nearly fully dressed.

“You got a comb?” the brunette asks you gruffly as he straightens his suit jacket.

You nod towards the bathroom, “yeah, in there.”

He gives you no reply, only walking into the bathroom and shutting the door with a resounding thud.

Your stomach clenches painfully and your heart aches. The indifference with which Tangerine treats you hurts so badly. You’d rather him hate you then act like this. At least you’d know that he felt something, anything.

Is it too early for a drink?

The bathroom door opens again and Tangerine walks out, looking as though nothing ever happened. To him, nothing probably has. Nothing of consequence, at least.

“Well, I’m heading out. See you for our debrief tonight at nine.”

Tangerine begins to walk towards the door.

“Wait!” you call out.

You stop him just in time, his hand frozen on the handle. You swear he visibly tenses at your words, “what?”

“Could- could you at least get me a towel? Please?”

He doesn’t even look at you before nodding, “Yeah.”

He disappears into the bathroom for a moment before reappearing with a towel in hand. Tangerine, it seems, doesn’t even have the decency to walk the towel over to you. Instead, he tosses it across the room, almost hitting you in the face.

“Thanks.”

Shame pools in your stomach and you keep your gaze on the towel in your hands.

Tangerine grumbles a reply and then makes for the door so quickly that there’s no chance for you to say anything more.

Your heart sinks at the possibility that Tangerine might know you have feelings for him.

*****

You’ve already found a secluded spot in the hotel lounge and have a drink in hand when the twins appear downstairs. They take a seat across from you wordlessly and Tangerine lifts his hand in the air gracefully, motioning for a cocktail waitress to come take his order. Lemon and him order their drinks, and you ask for a second. It bothers you severely when you catch Tangerine winking at the waitress out of the corner of your eye.

You down the rest of your drink in one gulp and ignore how it burns your throat.

“Right, so the job’s done. When are we getting out of here?” Lemon asks tiredly.

“We,” Tangerine says, pointing between him and his brother, “are out of here first thing in the morning, “I’ve booked our tickets for a 5 am flight.”

“And her?” Lemon responds, pointing to you.

Tangerine barely glances at you, but you can see his jaw tense, “the job’s done. Figured she’s a fucking big girl who can handle getting herself home. Isn’t that right, love?”

Condescension drips from Tangerine’s words and it makes your stomach drop. You refrain from saying what you really want to and instead assume a relaxed persona, “mhmm, always right you are. I arranged for my travel last night.”

You, luckily, weren’t lying, though you had ordered a car big enough for three. More room for you, you guess.

The waitress comes back with your drinks and you eagerly take yours. When she asks if you need anything else, you can tell that she’s really only talking to Tangerine. Still, you tell her yes, asking for a third drink.

Lemon eyes you, “you haven’t even touched your second drink and now you’re ordering a third?”

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly and lean back in your chair, “I’ve got the money to spend on it now that we each just made what, nearly 12,000 pounds?”

Lemon smirks in celebration and holds out his drink to you, “cheers.”

You clink glasses but Tangerine doesn’t join in, a perpetual frown gracing his face.

“Ya really wanna get fucking sloshed before ya travel tomorrow?” the brunette suddenly chimes in- rather judgmentally, you might add.

“Who said anything about sloshed, Tangerine? I can hold more than you think.”

While your answer is confident, even combative, on the inside, your heart leaps into your throat and pounds desperately. You think you might explode.

“Still, ya certainly don’t have any self-control. Not over ya drinks, your mouth, and most importantly….” Tangerine’s eyes narrow at you, “not over ya emotions.”

Your heart sinks in your chest.

So Tangerine did know about your feelings. Worse? He’s being a right fucking prick about it too. There’s no emotional sensitivity, no respect for privacy, nothing. Serves you right for fucking a cold-blooded assassin.

Unfortunately for you, tears spring to your eyes despite the fury boiling in your stomach, “you wanna talk about control, Tangerine? Let’s talk about how you have so little control over your own feelings that you lash out at others and make them feel like shit, even your own brother, so that you feel better. Let’s talk about how you can’t keep your dick in your pants because you’d rather fuck anything that looks at you than deal with anything real. Let’s talk about how what’s happened between us has made you feel so out of control that you’re willing to go low enough to hash this out in fucking public. You’re a walking disaster, Tangerine, and I feel right fucking sorry for you, I really do.”

You stand up harshly and purposely knock his drink onto his expensive suit. You start to walk away and then turn back, batting your eyelashes innocently, “oh wait, should I get you a fucking towel to clean up? Or would you rather beg me for it?”

You don’t wait for a response and grab a dry towel off a random cleaning rack, throwing it right in his fucking face.

*****

Tangerine glares after you as you storm off.

“What the bloody fuck was that all about?” Lemon protests.

Tangerine ignores Lemon and instead curses loudly before chasing after you. He could not let you have the last fucking word. He catches you right in time, hand stopping the doors of the elevator you’re in.

You look up at him startled, and your shocked expression is quickly replaced with an angry one.

“What the fuck, Tangerine? Get out of here!”

“Ya don’t get to fucking talk to me like that and spill my drink all over me and then just walk away.”

“Why not,” you scoff, “you ran away as soon as you were done using me to jack off. It only seems fair.”

The elevator doors slide shut and the car begins to move upwards slowly.

“Yeah, well that’s usually what happens when ya casually fuck someone. But I don’t think ya have a casual bone in your body- always stomping around being a dramatic attention-whore.”

Tangerine watches your eyes narrow and jaw harden, “there’s a difference between being causal and being a huge dick, Tangerine. I should’ve known you’d be the latter.”

“And I should’ve known not to mess around with a fucking slut like you.”

Your eyes widen in shock and even Tangerine knows that he’s taken things a little too far. While your effort to fight back your tears is valiant, it’s fruitless, and they begin to stream down your face.

“Fuck you, Tangerine. You know, I never expected you to return my feelings, and I’m sorry I crossed a line by falling for you. Swear to fucking god I wish I didn’t. But you- you’ve just crossed an unforgivable line, and I never want to see you again. Have a fucking nice life.”

The elevator doors slide open and you scurry out. This time, Tangerine doesn’t follow you.

*****

After everything that happened with Tangerine on your last mission, you decided to take an indefinite hiatus from work and just focus on yourself.

One of your goals? Fuck your feelings for Tangerine out of you. So of course, you’d been spending a lot of nights out at the bars, seducing all the eligible bachelors of the city into your bed.

You hope that it’s working.

Tonight is no different from the rest- you dressed up in one of your sexy outfits sitting at the bar of some new local pub. You’ve already eyed a muscular blonde about your age from across the bar and motion for him to come over.

He complies and makes his way to you, a cocky smirk on his face.

“Hey gorgeous,” you tease, looking him up and down.

The man takes a seat next to you, “Hullo, love. What’s a pretty girl like you doing sitting at the bar all by herself?”

You shrug nonchalantly, “looking for a handsome man. Like you, I suppose.”

He cocks his eyebrow at you, “you suppose?”

“Always hard to tell in this type of lighting.”

The blonde bites his lip and eyes you, “I can promise you I’m handsome.”

“We’ll see.”

“I’m Matt,” he says, extending his hand.

You respond with your name and grasp his hand. You’re expecting a handshake, but instead he brings your knuckles to his lips and kisses them softly.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

Damn this man is smooth.

“Really, the pleasure is all mine, Matt,” you respond, trying not to appear too flustered.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah, sure. Surprise me though.”

Matt orders the two of you drinks and you take the time to ogle him. He’s perfect.

But not as per-

Nope.

No, you don’t have time to think about him.

Matt hands you the mysterious concoction and you eye him, “what is it?”

“Just drink,” he nods, “promise it’s good.”

You take a small sip and it’s sweet. It’s yummy, and you take another, larger sip.

“Oh shit, this is good.”

“Told you.”

“Can I know what it is now?”

“No way. Need to hold this above you so you keep coming back to me to ask for another.”

You chuckle and look down, “okay Mr. Smooth-Talker. That was pretty good.”

“I can do a lot more than that,” he says seductively. His hand slides out casually and finds a home on your thigh.

You inhale sharply in pleasant surprise and lean towards him, “oh really?”

Matt leans in towards you too, “yeah, like-“

Just as you’re about to kiss him you hear a loud shout.

“Hey, get your hands off her!”

You startle at the sound and turn to see who could possibly be yelling like a maniac inside this bar. You’re also curious to know who’s the one getting yelled at.

Your stomach drops when you realize that you’re the target. And the yeller?

Tangerine.

“Oh my fucking God,” you curse, resting your forehead in your hands.

Tangerine comes stalking towards you.

“Uh, who the fuck is that?” Matt asks warily.

“My ex….fuck-buddy? Friend-with-benefits? I don’t know, it was complicated. But a piece of shit- that’s what he is.”

“What the fuck are you doing, mate?” Tangerine yells at Matt when he approaches you two. His words slur together and you can tell he’s really, really drunk.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Matt says gruffly.

“I’m not the one getting handsy with someone else’s girl,” the brunette snarls.

You scoff loudly, “Your girl? That’s rich Tangerine. Last I recall I was just a slut you fucked.”

Tangerine’s expression softens just the slightest and you almost think you clock regret in his eyes.

“Look, mate, you’re drunk. So get your ass out of here before I hand it to you,” Matt threatens.

Tangerine is sent back into his rage and steps toward Matt menacingly, “you little fucking,”

“Okay,” you shout, stepping in between them and putting a hand on each of their chests, “that’s enough.”

“Tangerine, go. home,” you growl.

“Yeah fucking right I-“

“Just let me take him,” Matt interrupts.

You scan his tense body, “Look, I appreciate it, but you’re not gonna win. Tangerine here is, well, trained. And I don’t want anything to happen to your pretty face. I’ll take care of him.”

“But he’s definitely stronger than you,” Matt protests.

You side eye Tangerine, “he won’t hurt me.”

The blonde’s eyes narrow.

“Physically, at least.”

Matt finally sighs and steps back, “I’ll be waiting here for you.”

You send him a half smile and then turn to the brunette with a glare, “Let’s. Go.”

Then, you literally grab him by the ear and drag him outside the bar. Tangerine lets out a string of curses and tries to fight back a little before he finally gives up.

When you get outside you let go of his ear and shove him, “What the fuck was that, Tangerine?”

“I was trying to protect you from that git,” he slurs.

“Tangerine, you’re the git. You’re the one that hurt me. It’s you I need protection from.”

Tangerine’s tough guy facade crumbles right before your eyes into one of remorse. He suddenly looks years beyond his age and crumples down onto the sidewalk, back pressed to the wall.

You look down at him with disgust. His hair is all over the place, his clothes are a complete mess, and he reeks of booze.

“I’m calling Lemon.”

With shaky hands you dial his number.

He picks up rather quickly and you can hear the confusion in his voice when he answers, “uh, hello?”

“Lemon, come get your fucking brother.”

*****

Although Matt was everything you could’ve hoped for, your night was ruined after Tangerine left. Luckily, Matt was understanding, and you’d exchanged numbers to meet up another day.

When you’d gotten home from the bar, you’d broken down completely. All of the anger, betrayal, frustration and sadness that had been pent up within you for weeks burst forth like a raging storm. You’d sobbed and screamed and even pitched a picture frame of you, Tangerine, and Lemon across the room, shattering it. The broken glass was a problem for later-you, and you’d ended up falling asleep on your couch, still in your bar clothes.

Loud bangs are what startle you awake hours later, and you curse as you flail off the couch. You hit the floor with a thud and groan. Now, not only is your head pounding, but your back will be all beat up too.

The pounding on your door continues and you curse whoever is making a ruckus this early.

You yank the door open, “what the fuck do you want?”

The last person you expect to see is on the other side.

Tangerine.

“Fuck off,” you spit before swinging the door shut resoundly.

Except the door doesn’t close because Tangerine’s foot catches it.

“Fuck me,” he groans in pain.

The brunette shoves the door back open and you smirk, “that’s what you get for being in places you don’t belong. Now get the hell out of my apartment.”

“Wait, wait. Please, just give me a chance to talk to ya. And then, if ya want, you never have to fucking see my face again.”

You don’t reward him with a response and instead just walk away, sighing.

Tangerine takes this as an invitation and walks inside your apartment, letting the door shut gently behind him. You beeline straight to where you left off on the couch, paying him no mind.

The idiot must not be paying attention because you hear the crackle of glass beneath his shoes and a quiet curse.

Tangerine goes silent and you stiffen, listening closely. You hear the pings of shattered glass being sifted through and then his footsteps as he nears your spot on the couch.

“I forgot about this picture,” he rasps.

“Well you can fucking have it. I don’t want it anymore.”

“Can I- can I sit?”

You briefly glance over at Tangerine and look him up and down. You don’t respond, only nodding.

Though he, like you, is still in his clothes from last night, he looks ten times worse. The purple bags under his eyes are heavy and dark, his hair and mustache aren’t groomed, his button up is missing a few buttons, and his shoes are untied. Maybe it’s bad to say, but you revel in how miserable and pathetic he looks.

“You look fucking awful,” you remark, venom heavy in your tone.

“And ya look like you’ve been crying.”

“Well no shit, Tangerine. Sort of happens when someone you thought was your friend turns out to be a big fucking prick. “

He looks down at his feet and shuffles awkwardly, “I know. I’ve uh, that’s why I came here to talk to ya. To apologize.”

You scoff and look at him with disbelief, “okay now you want to apologize? Only when you’ve fucking hit rock bottom you wanna mend things?”

“Love, no I, I’ve been wanting to since that night in the fucking elevator I-“

“Don’t call me that,” you whisper angrily, lip wobbling in spite of yourself.

“I’m not your love, I’m not your friend, I’m not your anything anymore. We’re done Tangerine, this is over.”

It’s then that the boy you’ve known for almost five years does something you never would have imagined.

He grovels.

He literally gets on his knees before you and grabs your hands tightly, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“Just listen to me for a second. Please. I want ya to know how fucking sorry I am. Not just for last night, but for everything. I’m sorry I called ya a slut. I’m sorry I was rude, and distant, and an asshole. I’m sorry for fucking you like some piece of meat and then just leaving you behind with no aftercare, no attention, nothing. I’m sorry for being a terrible friend and I’m sorry for not telling you that I love you sooner.”

Tears shine in Tangerine’s blue eyes and he chokes on his next words, “Christ, I love ya so fucking much. And I know I’ve gone and fucked things up now, and that it’s too late. And I have to accept every day for the rest of my life that it’s my fault. I have to live with that. And I will, even though it could kill me. But I don’t know what I would’ve done if I couldn’t tell ya at least once.”

Tangerine’s forehead falls to your knees and his body begins to shake in quiet sobs.

He inhales sharply through his nose, trying to hold back more tears, and looks up at you so sadly. “You’re the best girl out there, and you deserve the best. You deserve to find that with someone. Someone who isn’t me.”

Tears of your own begin to drip from your face and your heart throbs in your chest.

You reach out and cup Tangerine’s jaw so gently it’s as if he could crumble under your fingertips at any second.

“Tangerine,” you whisper.

You search his eyes for any sign of insincerity, of some sign that he’s going to break your heart again. But all you see is true, genuine adoration and vulnerability. Consciously or not, your heart returns to the hands of the one who holds and you pull him in, kissing him softly.

The kiss is sloppy, and salty and wet, but you don’t care, because every peck and sigh and bite is punctuated by what you both know- I love you. I love you. I love you.

[gothicxreylover]

Yandere Alphabet – Kyojuro Rengoku

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─ ─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

(An Unyielding Flame That Burns Only for You)

Something for you to read while I work on other things

┊ ┊ ┊ ♡ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ˚ ♡

┊ ┊ ♡ ⋆ +

♡ ⋆ ┊ .

+ ♡

Kyojuro’s love is warm, comforting, and fiercely protective—but as a yandere, that warmth turns into a suffocating blaze that refuses to let you go. His devotion is unshakable, his obsession all-consuming. He doesn’t see himself as a villain or captor—only as your protector, your guardian, the one who will love you even if it means keeping you locked away.

A - Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense can it get?

Kyojuro is an affectionate man by nature, and with you, his beloved, his love knows no limits. He showers you with adoration—holding you in his arms, pressing lingering kisses to your forehead, running his fingers through your hair, whispering sweet praises in your ear. He will call you his “precious ember,” his “beloved flame,” and his “light in the darkness.”

But his affection is not just about touch—it is about presence. Kyojuro is always near, always watching. He wakes up before you just to admire your sleeping face, to brush stray hairs away and murmur, “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” When you eat, he insists on feeding you himself. When you speak, he listens with unwavering attention, even if it is just a whisper. You are the most important thing in his world, and he makes sure you know it.

However, if you try to push him away, to resist his touch, his smile falters—but only for a second. He does not get angry; he only becomes firmer. You are not allowed to deny his affection. He will simply wrap his arms around you tighter, whispering, “Do not deny me, my love. I will love you whether you wish it or not.”

B - Blood: How messy are they willing to get for their darling?

Kyojuro does not seek out bloodshed, but if the situation calls for it, he will not hesitate. If a demon even dares to glance your way, they are cut down in an instant, their body reduced to ash before they can so much as breathe in your presence. But it is not just demons he worries about—humans can be just as dangerous.

If another person gets too close to you, touching you, speaking too sweetly in your ear, Kyojuro will step between you with a blinding smile, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. His voice will remain warm, but his words will carry an undeniable warning.

“Ah, forgive me, but my beloved is feeling unwell. I must take them home now.”

If the offender does not take the hint and insists on speaking to you? Well… that’s unfortunate. Kyojuro will deal with them quickly, efficiently, and without a second thought. His blade is fast, and his justice is absolute. No one touches what is his.

And should you witness his violence and tremble in fear? He will only sigh, wiping the blood from his blade before cupping your face with warm, battle-worn hands.

“Do not be frightened, my love. This is merely what must be done to keep you safe.”

C - Cruelty: How do they treat their darling? Would they hurt them?

Kyojuro would never intentionally hurt you. He adores you far too much to bring you physical harm. However, his kindness is suffocating, his love overwhelming.

His cruelty is not in his hands, but in his restraints. He will keep you locked away if he must, always within reach, always under his watchful gaze. If you fight against him, he will simply overpower you, holding you close until your struggles fade.

Even if you scream at him, curse him, cry in his arms—he will never falter. He will stroke your hair, murmuring in that same gentle voice, “I can endure your hatred, my love, so long as it means keeping you safe.”

The cruelest thing about Kyojuro is that he genuinely believes he is doing the right thing. No amount of pleading will convince him otherwise.

D - Delusional: Are they aware of what they’re doing?

Not at all. Kyojuro truly believes that everything he does is in your best interest. He does not see himself as a captor—he sees himself as your protector, your savior. The world is dangerous, full of threats, and he cannot bear the thought of losing you.

If you try to tell him that he is hurting you, that you are unhappy, he will tilt his head in confusion, eyes filled with concern rather than guilt. “Hurting you? My love, no… I am keeping you safe. One day, you will understand.”

E - Escape: How hard would it be to escape from them?

Escape is nearly impossible. Kyojuro is always one step ahead, always watching. Even if you manage to slip away, his instincts are sharp, and he will find you.

And when he does? He won’t be angry—no, his expression will be heartbreakingly sad. He will kneel before you, take your trembling hands in his own, and whisper, “Why must you run from me, my love? Have I not cared for you? Have I not protected you?”

And then, he will carry you home.

This time, there will be no unlocked doors. No windows left ajar. No freedom.

“You must never do that again, my dear. It pains me too much.”

F - Fight: How do they react if their darling fights back?

If you lash out, Kyojuro will not retaliate—he will simply endure. You can hit him, scratch him, scream in his face—but he will never strike back. Instead, he will hold you close, his arms locking you in place, his voice unwaveringly gentle.

“I know you are upset, my love. But that will not change my devotion.”

If your defiance becomes too much, he will simply restrain you more firmly. If you refuse to eat? He will feed you himself. If you refuse to sleep? He will hold you in his lap until exhaustion takes over.

Your resistance means nothing to him. His love is unyielding.

G - Guilt: What would make them feel guilty?

Kyojuro only feels guilt when he sees you truly suffering—when your smiles disappear, when your eyes become hollow. He does not regret keeping you, but he hates seeing you unhappy.

So, he will try to fix it. He will bring you gifts—your favorite foods, the finest silks, books to read while curled up in his arms. He will shower you in praise, tell you how deeply he loves you, how he will spend eternity making you happy.

“Tell me, my love… what must I do to see you smile again?”

But he will never let you go.

H - Hell: What’s the worst thing they would do to their darling?

The worst thing Kyojuro would do is take away your freedom entirely. If you refuse to love him, if you refuse to accept his affections, he will lock you away. You will become his flame in a lantern, his precious ember hidden from the world.

But he will never harm you. He will simply break you down—slowly, patiently, until you have no choice but to love him in return.

I - Isolation: How much do they try to isolate their darling?

Kyojuro does not want to isolate you entirely—after all, he wants you to be happy. However, he also believes that too much exposure to the outside world will only bring you danger.

At first, he allows you to have some freedom—perhaps brief walks under his supervision, conversations with his family (who, of course, believe you are deeply in love with him). But the moment he senses that you might try to run or that someone might take you away, your world becomes smaller.

No more unsupervised outings. No more visitors. No more chances to escape.

But he won’t call it isolation. Instead, he will frame it as protection.

“It is only for a little while, my love. The world is too dangerous. You understand, don’t you?”

And if you try to protest? He will only smile, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Hush now. I will keep you safe.”

J - Jealousy: How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?

Kyojuro is deeply possessive, though he hides it well behind his usual warmth. He does not mind if others admire you from afar—he expects them to. After all, you are extraordinary. But if anyone dares to get too close?

His grip on his sword tightens. His usually bright eyes become sharp, calculating.

If another man speaks to you for too long, Kyojuro will casually place an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side, his grip just a little too tight. His voice remains pleasant, but there is an unshakable warning in his tone.

“Ah, my beloved is so charming! No wonder you wish to speak with them… but I’m afraid they belong to me.”

And if the offender does not take the hint? Well… accidents happen.

Later, he will hold you close, whispering in your ear. “You are mine, my love. No one else may have you.”

K - Kidnapping: How would they go about kidnapping their darling?

Kyojuro would never call it kidnapping. No, he would call it saving you.

At first, he will try to win your heart the normal way. If you love him freely, he has no reason to take you. But if you resist? If you try to leave him?

Then, he has no choice.

It will be swift—one moment, you are walking freely, and the next, strong arms encircle you, lifting you as if you weigh nothing. He will carry you away effortlessly, speaking in that same warm, gentle tone.

“Shhh, my love. You need not struggle. I will take care of you.”

And when you wake up in a locked room, surrounded by the scent of him, you will realize—there is no escape.

L - Love Letters: How do they express their love in writing?

Kyojuro is a poet at heart, and his love letters are intensely passionate. Even if you are locked away, he will leave you carefully written notes, each one filled with devotion.

“My Beloved,

The sun rises and sets, but my love for you remains eternal. No force in this world—not time, not fate, not even your resistance—will ever change what I feel for you. You are my everything, my guiding light. Do not fear, for I will always protect you.

Forever yours,

Kyojuro Rengoku”

Even if you ignore his letters, even if you tear them apart, he will only write more.

M - Mask: Are their yandere tendencies obvious?

Not at first. To the world, Kyojuro is the same warm, passionate warrior he has always been. He still laughs, still protects the innocent, still carries himself with honor.

But those closest to him might begin to notice the change—the way his eyes darken when someone gets too close to you, the way his smile tightens when you try to pull away.

But by the time you realize just how deep his obsession runs… it is already too late.

N - No Escape: How hard is it to escape from them?

Impossible. Kyojuro is a Hashira. He is fast, strong, and incredibly perceptive. He knows your habits, your fears, your weaknesses. Even if you somehow manage to slip away, he will always find you.

And when he does, he will only sigh, lifting you into his arms once more.

“Why must you run, my love? You know I will always find you.”

O - Obsession: How obsessed are they?

Kyojuro’s obsession is all-consuming. You are the single most important thing in his life—more than his duty, more than his own wellbeing. He cannot function without you.

His love burns like fire, searing into every part of his being. Even if you hate him, even if you scream and cry, he will never let go.

“You are my flame, my purpose. Without you, I am nothing.”

P - Punishment: How would they punish their darling?

Kyojuro does not want to punish you. But if you defy him—if you try to escape or refuse to eat—he will have no choice.

He won’t hurt you physically. Instead, he will isolate you even more. No walks. No fresh air. No contact with anyone but him.

And if you refuse to speak to him? He will simply wait, sitting beside you in silence, stroking your hair, whispering soft reassurances.

“No matter how much you resist, my love, I will never abandon you.”

Q - Quiet: How do they react when their darling refuses to speak?

If you fall into silence, Kyojuro will be deeply hurt—but he will not get angry. Instead, he will try to coax you out of it, bringing you gifts, speaking to you in soft tones, waiting.

And if you still refuse? He will pull you into his lap, cradling you close, pressing gentle kisses to your temple.

“You may be silent, but I can still hear your heart beating. It calls for me.”

R - Rage: What makes them angry?

Kyojuro is not easily angered, but if someone tries to take you from him? His flames will burn hotter than ever before.

Whoever dares to steal you away will not live to see another day.

“No one will take you from me. No one.”

S - Stalker: Do they stalk their darling?

He does not need to stalk you—he is always nearby, always watching. You will never be out of his sight for long.

T - Tears: How do they react to their darling crying?

Kyojuro hates seeing you cry, but it does not change his actions. He will hold you close, wipe your tears away, whispering,

“Do not cry, my love. One day, you will understand how deeply I cherish you.”

U - Unwavering:

Nothing can change Kyojuro’s mind. No pleading, no escape, no amount of hatred will make him release you.

His love is eternal.

And you are his forever.

V - Vows: Do they make promises to their darling?

Kyojuro is a man of honor, and his word is absolute. He swears himself to you, just as he once swore himself to justice, to protecting the weak. But this vow? This is even stronger.

“I vow to love you for all eternity.”

“I vow to keep you safe, even from yourself.”

“I vow to be yours, and you will be mine. No force in this world will change that.”

His promises are not mere words. They are unchangeable truths. And once Kyojuro makes a vow—he never breaks it.

W - Weakness: What is something that can bring them to their knees?

You.

Kyojuro is unshakable in battle, fearless in the face of demons, unwavering in his convictions. But you? You are his one weakness. Your tears, your pain, your suffering—it all wounds him more deeply than any blade ever could.

If you ever truly break—if your light fades, if you stop eating, stop speaking—he will panic. He will become softer, more tender, trying everything to bring you back.

“Please, my love… do not fade from me. You are my reason for living.”

He does not realize that he is the one who has broken you.

X - Xoanon: Do they see their darling as a deity?

To Kyojuro, you are more than just a lover. You are his purpose. His reason for breathing. His guiding light.

His devotion is not just love—it is worship.

He admires every part of you, tracing your features with reverence, treating you as though you are the most precious thing in the world.

“You are perfect, my love. Every part of you is a treasure beyond compare.”

He does not see his obsession as unnatural. To him, it is the purest form of love.

Y - Yearn: How long do they pine before taking action?

Kyojuro tries. He really does.

At first, he courts you the right way—warm smiles, deep conversations, small touches that linger longer than they should. He wants you to choose him, to love him willingly.

But if you do not return his feelings? If you show interest in someone else?

Then he snaps.

It does not take him long to act. The moment he feels you slipping away, he takes what is his.

“I have waited long enough, my love. You belong with me—where you will be safe.”

Z - Zenith: Would they ever let their darling go?

No. Never.

Kyojuro’s love has no end. There is no scenario, no possible future where he releases you. Even if you hate him, even if you beg for freedom, he will never let go.

“The sun does not stop rising, and my love for you will never fade.”

Even in death, his devotion remains. If he dies before you, his final words will be a whisper of love—“I will find you again… in the next life.”

Even then, you will never be free.

Conclusion:

There is no escape. There never was. Kyojuro’s love is eternal, and once his fire touches you…

You will never be able to put it out.

[sylusjinwoon]

This is such a random question but have you ever written a story where the reader goes with jinwoo to the international guild conference(I think thats what its called)

Im not asking you to write it, you’ve already written so much. Its just that you have so many works I struggle to find a specific one

Byeeeeeee! Have a good day/sweet dreams

hey sweetheart! and no, i don’t believe i wrote a story where the reader attends a conference with jinwoo. however, i can help you find a specific jinwoo story that i have personally written to suit your needs! so i have made a summary of every single jinwoo story i have written under the cut with their links ♡ !

1. { sparkle } - first jinwoo story i have ever written told in jinwoo’s POV where he realizes he’s in love with reader

2. { 3RR0R } - where the system shows jinwoo that his soulmate is not cha hae-in

3. { pillowtalk } - reader speaks to jinwoo about her love for him while he sleeps.

4. { season’s call } - reader is constantly under protection from jinwoo’s shadow soldiers.

5. { hold me like a grudge } - investigator!jinwoo protects the reader while hiding a secret from her.

6. { surround you } - jinwoo is away on a business trip, leaving reader alone as she muses on how much she misses him.

7. { like you do } - reader is a young woman living in the real world who gets the chance to live out her dreams of being with jinwoo in his world.

8. { butterfly kisses } - reader comforts jinwoo during a bad day.

9. { love letter of flowers } - florist! reader and s-rank hunter! jinwoo fall in love 💐

10. { slow dancing in the dark } - reader sees jinwoo dancing with hae-in and feels envious.

11. { boyfriend headcanons } - general fluff headcanons

12. { arise } - reader is resurrected as one of jinwoo’s shadow soldiers due to a tragic event.

13. { rose-colored boy } - jinwoo takes care of a sick and feverish reader.

14. { sands of time } - academy arc; reader can’t stand jinwoo and lowkey hates him… or does she?

15. { light in the darkness } - antares!jinwoo basks in the reader’s softness.

16. { tiptoe } - reader is kept hostage as potential leverage, but it fails when jinwoo brutally attacks her captors to teach them a lesson.

17. { snooze } - reader loves to humble jinwoo by calling him dorky nicknames.

18. { enough is enough } - reader and jinwoo get into an argument.

19. { motherland } - jinwoo comforts reader after her failures.

20. { love me for me } - reader can’t stand being second best to her sister, hae-in.

21. { follow you } - reader becomes anxious at work due to a persistent co worker who can’t leave her alone…

22. { house of gold } - jinwoo fumbles his proposal LMAO

23. { headfirst for halos } - first yandere jinwoo fic.

24. { penpal } - academy arc; jinwoo wishes to get closer to his beloved reader.

25. { proud to be yours } - jinwoo makes a huge announcement during a press conference.

26. { the dark knight } - reader is a capable hunter who can’t stand it when jinwoo purposely prevents her from attending raids.

27. { musings for yandere jinwoo } - more yandere stuff

28. { moonlight } - jinwoo becomes captivated by reader when she calls him a strangely unique nickname.

29. { anomaly } - reader gets isekai’d into the world of solo leveling.

30. { of gifts and curses } - jinwoo muses how his strength and power are for the sake of protecting his beloved…

31. { reader inserts } - reader gets emotionally scarred after reading a painful reader insert.

32. { too sweet } - jinwoo falls in love with a reader who is the embodiment of sunshine.

33. { peaches } - a love story between jinwoo and the reader whom he has always loved.

34. { the only exception } - yandere jinwoo who falls head over heels for reader at first sight, willing to do anything to keep her by his side.

35. { selfish } - jinwoo being a jealous bby 🥰

36. { belong to you } - 100% jinwoo spice / thirst post

37. { touch starved } - jinwoo tries to woo (lmao) the reader and win her heart ♡

38. { cry for me } - another thirst post based on an ask ♡

39. { lover is a day } - comfort fic for jinwoo

40. { heartbreak feels so good } - reader is embarrassed with having a one night stand with jinwoo and wishes to forget. unfortunately for her, jinwoo wants nothing more than to remember and finally claim reader as his.

41. { marked by you } - more thirst posts for jinwoo

42. { the prince and the pauper } - historical romance / fairytale au with prince jinwoo sung and a commoner reader

43. { darling } - a yandere story with a twist. yandere jinwoo and yandere hae-in are deeply in love with the reader and would kill each other just to have you all to themselves…

44. { company } - lmaoo reader keeps friendzoning jinwoo, and he hates it.

45. { autobiography } - reader is an author that wants to write jinwoo's biography; what more can i say? 🥰

46. { perfect } - 18+ only, another thirst post for jinwoo

47. { saturn } - will jinwoo learn to love the reader’s true self hidden beneath a cheerful façade?

48. { slow it down } - boy next door jinwoo! what more can i say 🤭🥰

49. { that green gentleman (things have changed) } - single dad! jinwoo x daycare worker! reader

50. { god is a woman } - 18+ thirst post / drabble

51. { the admirer } - jinwoo loves to annoy the reader to capture her attention

52. { not a want but a need } - 18+ thirst drabble

53. { marry me } - the title says it all, really 🤭

54. { your heart belongs to me } - another 18+ thirst post

55. { the haunted one } - academy arc story where reader can see jinwoo’s shadow soldiers and becomes terrified of him.

56. { me + you } - another cute academy arc story where reader is struggling with math and jinwoo tutors her

57. { of painful auras and cute boys } - university au; reader has a migraine and needs to be saved;;; but by who ;3c

[strawberrylabs]

I have FINALLY finished the raffle fic from ages ago!

the raffle winner was @stellas-starry-stories13

the 1k words was split into 3 seperate smaller fics about Lyney, Freminet and Cyno if their lover, who is cursed to be blunt and speak their mind, were to be kidnapped! I hope you enjoy!

TW: kidnapping, violence

Lyney(442):

Lyney was panicking.

He had run around your shared home 3 times now, calling your name near every nook and cranny he can think of– in the wardrobe, under the bed, heck even in the broom cupboard.

But he got no response, only a plume of dust kicked up by his hurried movements.

He sat on the end of the bed he had shared with you just a few hours prior, the warmth that was shared, sapped by the cold of night.

‘Where are you…’ 

The magician moved, forcing himself to continue searching– until something dropped from the sheets to his feet

A treasure hoarder insignia.

He knew where you were.

‘Bastards… I’ll find you. I promise.’

As Lyney made his way to the nearest treasure hoarder camp, his mind was bombarded with worries.

A particular thought swam higher than the rest; one regarding your curse. 

It wasn’t a secret– unfortunately– that you were cursed to always speak your mind. Literally.

You had done well to avoid giving out sensitive information.

If you were to be questioned about the Hearth’s whereabouts, you would instead say what else you were thinking about; in this situation, that would likely be how much you dislike your captors, or something else the hoarders would not like to hear.

Treasure Hoarders were not known for their patience, or their forgiveness. 

Whilst deep in thought, he had reached the nearest camp. 

Which luckily, was the right one.

Bow drawn, Lyney quietly approached…

He stopped when he heard voices.

‘For the last time, where do the Fatui keep their wealth in Fontaine?!’

‘Your breath really stinks. And you have something stuck in your teeth-’

A loud slap is heard. Lyney draws his bow tighter, string almost snapping.

‘For Archons’ sake! I thought you said it’d be easy to get information from her!’

Lyney finally peers around the corner to see the treasure hoarders arguing

He also sees you, covered in dirt and bruises.

Lyney lets his arrow fly.

It makes contact with the first man– the one who had questioned you.

The arrow explodes into fireworks, Rosseland appearing from the fire, effectively drawing the attention of the surrounding hoarders.

Lyney lets another arrow fly, feeling his health weaken with each charged attack.

By the 5th arrow, he calls back Rosseland-

Only to send him out in a flurry of fire.

Once the Treasure hoarders were dealt with, Lyney runs to you.

‘You took a while’

Despite your words, a tired, yet genuine smile met your lips.

‘I’m sorry- I’m here now.’

He picks you up.

‘Now, let’s get out of here and inform the Gardes of these heathens’ sad performance.’

Freminet(309):

‘Oh no..’

Freminet doesn’t know what to do.

Where were you? 

Had you finally left him?

No, you’d still be found at the Hearth, but you weren’t there either.

You weren’t anywhere.

No one knew where you were.

Freminet wasn’t panicked– not yet. But he was worried.

He didn’t want to assume the worst, but he was running out of options.

You’d been taken. Stolen from him.

Freminet had been good at finding things before, he would find you too.

He started searching known hilichurl camps– maybe there were too many, and you couldn’t take them?

He then searched areas with prominent amounts of rogue mechs. Perhaps you had been bested by a Recon Mec’s missiles?

Then, after not finding you previously, he started searching treasure hoarder camps.

He had searched 4 camps before he heard your familiar voice.

‘You look super ugly by the way. Not at all my type.’

‘That wasn't even what we asked!’

‘You don’t get to smart mouth us you bitch!’

Freminet’s world slows when he hears you cry out in pain.

Before he knew it, he was swinging his claymore at the perpetrators.

One by one, they fell to his cryo.

‘That was hot.’

Freminet is kicked out of his stupor by your comment, a blush settling over his face.

‘... Are you.. Alright?’ 

He kneels down to look at you better- slap marks and gashes littered your face and arms.

He sits back up and holds out his hand to you

‘Come on.. We need to get you patched up, then we can head back home and tell Father what happened.’

When you reach out to his hand, you can’t help but notice that he holds on just that little bit tighter.

‘Hey, Frem. I’m safe now. Thank you for saving me.’

His grip relaxes. 

‘..I’ll always protect you.’

‘I know.’

Cyno(380):

Cyno had been tracking a band of Treasure Hoarders that recently crossed into Sumeru from the Chasm.

There had been reports that their leader was more cunning than most other mindless groups.

This fact had been proven by the fact that they had managed to evade the Mahamatra all this time.

Every time an incident was reported, Cyno would arrive just too late.

Every attack was careful and calculated.

But this time, the Treasure Hoarders had made a mistake.

They tried to take you from your lover. 

Cyno has a feeling all day something was off. His instincts are never wrong.

He arrived at your home to see the door ajar, and the lock broken. After a quick, efficient search of the house, he concluded you had been taken.

It seemed that while Cyno was studying the Treasure Hoarders, they were studying him.

Cyno immediately set out tracking the group.

He wouldn’t let them get far.

While Treasure Hoarders would need to stop to rest, Cyno refused to stop.

He was after them. He was going to take you back.

It was late at night when Cyno spotted their camp.

As silent as the sand and as precise as the carvings in the ruins, Cyno snuck up on the Treasure Hoarders. He paused, however, as he heard a conversation.

‘You’re really stupid. Cyno will come for me, and he won’t let you live.’

‘Aha! You really think he’s going to catch up? We’re travelling at top speed and only taking minimum breaks. Not even the General Mahamatra can do that.’

‘Pfft you’re even more stupid than I thought.’

‘Shut it! You’re just a prisoner!’

Cyno’s spear had struck before the Treasure Hoarders hand could make contact with your skin.

Cyno’s fury could only be described as animalistic.

It wasn't long before all the enemies had been either knocked unconscious, or left to be covered by the moving dunes..

Cyno took a breath before untying you.

‘I am sorry. I should’ve known they would try to come for you.’

You hug him.

‘Don’t be sorry. I knew you’d come. Just like I told them.’

Cyno wraps an arm around your back and holds you tight.

‘My enemies had better think twice in future, before they even think about touching you.’

Hope you enjoyed, please point out any mistakes I may have made!

if you'd like to read more, check out my masterlist!

Strawberry<3

[pit-and-the-pen]

You Found Me

Summary:A mission gone wrong. Can Azriel get to you in time to save you? 

Warnings: Wing cutting, gore, descriptions of pain, near character death, angsty angst, one singular use of y/n 

Disclaimer: This is a dark one so please use caution when reading and please let me know if there is any warning I need to add.

WC: ~3k

Walking into that house, you instantly knew something was wrong. Every part of your body was screaming at you to turn around and leave, calling for one of the male to come and help you. But that small prideful part of you, remembering that small joke that Cassian made the other day, you’d be lost without us sweetheart, kept you from doing exactly that. Needing to prove that you didn't always need the Illyrian soldiers to come clean up your messes. 

So you pushed down that little voice in your head and gripped your sword a little tighter, wings flaring out behind you at the unease in your stomach. Taking a step past the doorway, you held your breath, ears scanning the room for any sound other than your racing heart. You forced yourself to take a deep breath, attempting to calm yourself down. It didn’t work in the slightest. 

Your hands were trembling on the grip you had on the hilt of your sword and you mentally cursed yourself. Get it together. All you had to do was look for some notebook Azriel had gained some information about. Just a notebook and you could leave. 

Taking one more step, you almost missed it. The soft click of a trap locking into place. Your breathing all but stopped, eyes flickering around the room trying to glean any information about what just happened. Nothing. Listening even harder you could vaguely hear the sound of someone else’s breathing and that was enough to send a jolt of fear through you. You were truly trapped. Thinking only a second longer than necessary, you moved your foot off the loose floorboard. Deciding that the trap would be better than whoever else you heard in the room. 

The dart that shot out from the wall across from you was easy enough to dodge but the net that swept you off your feet took you by complete surprise. Your sword had slipped from your hand in your shock and you started to struggle against the rope cage. Something sharp dug into your arm and you cried out. The room instantly seemed to tilt on its head as your eyes fell shut. 

Your head was pounding when your eyes finally opened. Shooting up as the events from before caught up with you again. 

When your eyes finally opened again, you were unsure of how much time had passed. Only aware of the sting in your shoulders from where they were pinned above your head. Willing your eyes to focus you made out two figures standing in front of you. 

“Well good morning.” The shorter female said to you. “Thought I’d heard someone sniffing around. Didn’t think it would be anyone other than those two bastards.” She chuckled and you tried to pull against the chains. The pain that shot through you only made you cry out again. 

“I think we better let them know what happens when they poke their noses in other courts' business.” 

You didn’t have a chance to feel relief from being let out of those chains. You were pushed onto a blood splattered table. The female coming up behind you. She pulled the long blade from her side and waved it in front of your face. 

“Such a shame.” She muttered mostly to herself. You went to leap at her before two strong sets of hands pinned you back down. The cold metal trailed over your shoulders and sheer terror ripped through you. 

It was agony. The blade is far too dull to be making contact with anything let alone your delicate wings. You were thrashing around, the hands of your captors barely able to pin you down. Screams were flowing freely from your mouth, tangling with curses. Blood was caked under your nails, both yours and from the few good swipes you have managed to get in as their grip tightened on you. You tried to block out the pain, tried to ignore the way your entire body was drowning in it. Breathing hurts. The sickening thud against the floor told you all you needed to know. Your wings were gone. Your screams continued as the pain still coursed through every nerve. The blood would not stop. That slightly herbal smell in the air told you what was on those blades, faebane. A new wave of panic coursed through you. With the faebane you wouldn’t heal. You would bleed out before it wore off. You were going to bleed out in the middle of this gods damned house and no one would know until it was too late. 

Calm down. Think. You tried to tell yourself but as your vision started to darken around the edges you couldn’t stop the panic that was threatening to take you under. 

So you did the only thing you could think of. You stopped thrashing. Stopped screaming. Tucked that pain into a little part of you to make it seem like you had passed out. It wasn’t far off from how you felt. The pain threatened to pull you under. But you willed yourself to Stay awake even as you close your eyes. Rhys would have been able to tell something was off. 

Your captors said something you couldn’t quite fully make out but the slamming of a door mixed with their sickening laughter fading let you know they were no longer in the house. Forcing your eyes back open, you gathered the strength to reach a hand to your mangled back. Shaky hand reaching to inspect the full scope of damage. The damage that the faesbane was preventing from healing. When you pulled your hand away from your back you knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. They came away sticky and red and you had to force your vision to stop swirling. 

The house was eerily quiet. Until a flurry of grunts and cries reached your ears. You knew that voice. Azriel. At least you could see him one last time. It might even be worth it just to see his face before it all faded away. 

“y/n” He all but screamed into the room. You let out a meek response and you heard his unusually heavy footsteps freeze. A cry was pulled from his lips and you forced your eyes to focus on him.

“I knew you would find me” Your eyes were so heavy. 

“No. Stay awake,” You could barely register the sob that broke through his body. “You have to stay awake for me sweet girl.”

You tried your best but you could feel your eyelids screaming in protest. Begging you to just go to sleep. His shadows were wrapping around you, trying to keep pressure on your wounds. 

“Rhys and Cassian are going to be here any second now. You have to be awake when they get here.” Not good enough. You could almost hear the gears in his brain as he searched for the next thing to say. 

“I remember the first time I ever saw you.” His voice so much closer now, close enough that he took your hand in his. The pressure makes your eyes widen a little bit. He swam in and out of your vision, black spots beginning to take over. 

“You had just gotten into a fight. I didn’t see what started it, just came running when Rhys told me he saw it happening.” You blinked unfocused up at him. Trying your  best to remember. “We were all ready to jump in and protect you but you had the assholes on the ground by the time we all got there.” He laughed. The sound warming your body, when had it gotten so cold? “You managed to put three full grown Illyrian soldiers on their ass in a matter of minutes. Managed to smile at us as we showed up.” He paused 

“Wanna be next?” You rasped out. You could make out his smile through the haze. 

“The first thing you ever said to me was you seeing if you should kick our asses too. You weren’t scared of us, you weren’t, aren’t, scared of anything.” 

“That’s not true.” It was a fight to get the words out. Your voice sounded far away. “Azriel, I have to tell you something.” 

“No.” He all but growled. “You’ll tell me when we get back home.” 

You used the little bit of strength you had left to raise your arm to his face. He didn’t flinch at the blood left there. “I love you. I’ve loved you for years now.” There. You had finally said it. Your eyes had gotten too heavy to keep them open any longer. 

“Please. Just a little longer, sweetheart.” You couldn’t honor the request. Couldn’t fight the screaming muscles as your eyes flickered closed. Everything faded away as you drifted off to sleep. 

It felt like flying. Soaring high above everyone and everything. The pain that had been running through your body didn’t stop the moment my eyes closed, but even a little bit of reprieve was better than nothing. You would have let out a sigh of relief if you could have, but it didn’t seem like you had any control over your lungs at the moment. It was too confusing to try to figure out exactly why. 

Closing your eyes, you could almost feel a thread slipping over you. It was warm and letting go of it seemed so wrong. Your mind tried to grab onto it, hold it tighter but it was no use. Like trying to catch a bar of soap in the shower. Slipping out of your mind the harder you held on. It faded away and the screaming building in my throat got stuck as the last bit of feeling slipped away into nothingness. 

✦✦✦

The next moments were some of the worst of his life. Azriel watched your eyes flicker shut. Screaming at Rhys to hurry up. Begging the gods, anyone that would listen, to keep your heart beating. A heart he still heard the faint rhythm of. That was the hope he had to cling to. Not the ribbons carved out of your back. Not the way you felt so much lighter in his hold. No he could only focus on the fact that you were still alive in his arms. 

So he counted each heartbeat. The words echoing around his head. I love you. He hadn't even gotten the chance to say it back. He would scream it from the highest mountain if it would keep you here with him. Almost there. Rhys’ voice rang through his head. She doesn’t have a lot of time. Please. Azriel sent the scene in front of him and he heard the frantic buzz in Rhys’ mind, speeding up to get to her. Azriel was already tearing through the house to get you to where he could winnow but the damned wards were surrounding the house farther than he could get you to and he was afraid to fly with you in your current condition. He would need Rhys here to break the wards. 

Azriel was too caught up in his thoughts to see the minor wounds on you starting to heal. Fading to nothing but pink marks. The larger ones were finally starting to clot. But he was too caught up in the flood of grief that was circling him, he could have drowned in it but he had to hold out. He had to hope that she was coming back. Azriel didn’t think he would survive her being gone. 

The commotion outside let him know his brothers had finally arrived. He almost let out a sigh of relief. Almost. If it didn’t feel like his heart was outside of his body right now. Still listening to the faint sound in your chest. Still beating. It was the only thing holding him back from losing it completely. 

Rhys and Cassian caught up with him and he fought the urge to bite Rhys’ head off as he slipped your unconscious form into his arms. He couldn’t help but wince at the way you looked so frail covered in your own blood. He had never seen either of his brothers so pale before. He thanked whatever gods that he hadn't already cursed when Rhys was finally able to winnow you all back to Velaris. 

Madja had to all but throw him out of the room when she started to get to work. “I can’t heal anything with your shadows flying all over the place.” the old healer barked at him. He was about to argue back before he caught Rhys’ eyes, the small shake of his brother's head left him storming out of the room. He didn’t go further than the door frame. Unable to look away as  he watched Madja’s deft hands attempt to fix your back. He spent hours outside in the hallway. Practically wearing a path in the floorboards from his pacing. His wings were flared out beside him. He tried his hardest to reign them in. Their weight felt wrong against his back, the same way you had felt so wrong in his arms from your lack of wings. How he wishes he could have gotten to you sooner. How he wishes he could have spent more time carving up the monsters that did this to you. He doesn’t regret getting you out of there, the exact opposite. Madja had said that even a few minutes more and the blood loss would have been too great. His heart ached in a way he never imagined at the thought of what could have happened. 

Cassian finally walked out of the room. Shoulders hunched and wings dangerously close to sweeping across the ground. He looked as exhausted as Azriel felt. 

“You should go in. She’s not waking up anytime soon but you should be the first one she sees.” Was all Cassian said as he passed Azriel. He didn’t hesitate before he walked back into the room and the relief he felt at seeing you was instantaneous. Someone had thought to clean you up. The blood that covered your skin gone, the metallic scent being the only reminder it was even there in the first place. 

----------------

Your eyes shot open. A yelp left your lips and you shot up off the surface you were laying on. Warm hands wrapped around your arm and you tried to push them off. 

“I’m here. You’re safe. It’s just me.” Azriel’s voice soothed your rising panic. Safe. You let your surroundings sink in then. The soft mattress underneath you. The familiar feeling of your blankets against your skin. Your body relaxed slightly until your memories started flooding back to you. Instinctually, you went to flex your wings. Your whole body screams in protest and it really begins to dawn on you. 

“So it wasn’t a bad dream.” You sniffled, wanting nothing more than to disappear from those intense hazel eyes. Eyes that held nothing but pain and guilt as they looked at you. 

“I’m so sorry… we should have never let you go by yourself.” He tried to pull you against his chest and released you like you had burned him when you flinched at the contact. 

“I want to see.” He froze at your words. No further explanation was needed. A small rational part of your mind knows that you should focus on healing, focus on the fact that you had lived. But you needed to see with your own two eyes that your wings were no longer there. 

Azriel opened his mouth like he was going to protest but quickly shut it. Instead, he held out a hand for you to grab. You did so and rose on wobbly legs. 

He led you to the floor length mirror across the room. His hand not leaving yours as you took in your appearance. 

White hot shame filled your body. Your wings had been one of the biggest testaments to your strength. The fact that you could still fly as even a half-illyrian female was one of your biggest sources of pride. Proof that you had survived. Now, as you turned to get a better look at your back, you balked at the angry marks that took up over half of your back. The stitches still holding the angry looking skin together. The sob left your body before you could even stop it. Azriel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you upright. Legs refusing to hold you up anymore.

When Azriel turned to face you, you found yourself unable to look him in the eyes. Your own lingering on the floor. A gentle finger under your chin tipped your face up to meet his. 

“Talk to me, pretty girl? What’s going on in that head of yours.” You could only shake your head. Unable to find the words. Your brain is so distracted that you didn’t even fully process the name he just called you. 

“Do you want to go lay back down?” Nodding, he helped you walk over to your bed again. But this time he crawled in behind you. 

“Is this okay?” He asked before he got any closer. 

“Please don’t go.” Was all you could respond with. Not caring how desperate it might have made you sound.” 

“Of course not. I’ll stay right here until you tell me otherwise.” He sat right next to you and you let out a heavy sigh before you laid your head on his lap. 

“Why did you stay? I don’t see any of the others.” You questioned after a few minutes of silence. Your eyes were starting to get heavy again but you wanted to talk to him more. 

“We all decided that it should be me here when you woke up. Not like I left the room anyways.” He said softly. 

“Why?” Was the only thing you could think to say. 

“Because I love you too,” His hand had started to brush over your hair, fingers combing through the knots. “And you love me.” You couldn’t think of anything else to say to that. He continue on,

“You seemed so…so calm when I got to you” His voice was barely above a whisper now, my ears struggling to hear him. 

“Because I knew you would find me.” You said as you allowed yourself to drift into a peaceful sleep. 

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

This fic contains non-consensual elements. Please do not read, if such content makes you uncomfortable.

AN: Thank you @nanamiscocksleeve for hosting this event. October or Kinktober is a month that I have always wanted to write for but end up not doing so for lack of time and motivation. But this event made me want to push myself. I'm late but I'm here. Thank you for waiting. (Contd. below)

Tw: non con, dark content

Please use this soundscape generator for the full experience

Growing up near the ocean meant you were always aware of just how powerful and dark it was. 

The strong arms pulled you to the depths, far below the surface of the water. You cursed yourself. Why had you been so arrogant? You knew the ocean was not an entity to be toyed with. You could feel the oxygen slowly leaving your lungs as your captor swam further and further away from the silver-topped waves.

You regretted everything: wearing this frilly new bikini despite it barely covering your voluptuous curves. Wading out with your friends under the moonlight. Drifting too far before realising you weren't close to them anymore and they would never hear your cries for help. 

In the darkness of the night, you were unable to see anything around you but the hand that wrapped itself around your ankle pulling you deep. You were a good swimmer, but this was…

Your lungs started to burn, still the grip on you never loosened. Instead, you felt sharp claws dig into the flesh of your arm. You let out a cry of pain, muffled by the weight of the water, and immediately a pair of cold lips closed over yours, exhaling into you.  An acrid salty flavour filled your mouth, and you tried to push your attacker away, but they were far stronger than you, the shackle on your arm tightening further…

You heard your heartbeat pumping in your ears, louder and louder, lungs struggling to hold on. The world around you dissolved into ink. You wanted to hit out, scream, but instead you felt yourself getting weaker and weaker. Your assaulter felt it too, slackening their grip. It didn't matter why you were the one taken or what would happen next. You weren't ready for death. The darkness closed in on you, and then there was nothing…

*****

When you woke, you were still surrounded by water in all directions, but the lack of light didn’t bother you as much as before. Even through the ultramarine gloom, you could recognise the vague shapes of coral and—

A soft swish of water moving attracted your attention. You whipped your head around and inhaled sharply—you could breathe? How? The water in your lungs should’ve killed you by now.

Still adjusting to the changes in your body, you watched as a strange figure approached you. This must have been the one who took you away from the surface—only, they weren't quite human. 

Legend spoke of the existence of creatures of the deep: not quite man, not quite fish, but something else entirely. Merpeople…a merman.  These were, of course, brushed off as old wives’ tales that did not hold any weight. But swimming before your eyes was the very legend himself.

His long dark hair flowed with the gentle current as he hovered in front of you. A wicked smile was plastered on his face, sharp white teeth gleaming contrastingly. Your breath hitched and you lowered your gaze— as though some force beyond your control was pushing you down.

The merman was adorned in strings of pearls and other precious stones but wore little else. A long sapphire tail swished below your feet, swooping under you and pulling you closer to him. Extending a scaled webbed hand, he caressed your cheek, sharp claws instead of nails trailing down your jaw like a warning. Glinting gold threads ran down his finned back and travelled down to the end of his tail.

Good. A rumbling voice in your head jolted you out of your stupor. I feared you would sleep through this. 

Writhing in the merman’s grasp, you desperately tried to find the source of this strange voice, but there was no other living being in sight. The finger trailing down the side of your face dipped to your collarbone and slid down to the swell of your breasts. You shivered at the touch—in fear or in anticipation?

The hand squeezed your breast, making you jump, and the creature hissed in response: I can smell your fear and you smell divine… 

 He pulled at the strings holding your bikini top together, and it fell away with no effort, your nipples hardening from the chill and the merman’s touch; instinctively, you moved to cover your breasts with your hands and pushed the merman away. 

 In the dark water, the flimsy top floated away, settling on to a rock below. You remembered your friends calling the swimsuit sexy in the shop and insisted on you buying it because what man could resist?

Turns out it was not just human men… 

 SLAP! 

Your cheek stung, the webbed hand held up threateningly:

Behave, human.  

You cowered and cupped your cheek — hot to the touch despite the cold ocean water — trapped in the grip of this merman’s tail. Another set of fingers touched you now, hands running up and down your body, exploring every inch of skin, each fold, given its due diligence. You suppressed the urge to cover up, your smarting cheek the only reminder needed to stop yourself. 

The smile on your abductor's face widened, rows of sharp teeth glittering in a wicked mirth. He used his tail to push between your legs now, rubbing against your thighs. His scales grazed your skin, and for a moment, for one horrible, tempting moment, you wondered what they'd feel like against your core. 

As if he had heard your thoughts, the merman delicately pulled the strings tying the bottom half of your bikini. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched the orange strip of fabric fall to the ocean floor, joining the matching top nearby, but you were much more focused on how the merman’s hand had begun to drift between your thighs. 

Unfamiliar territory, but he knew where to touch, slipping his fingers between your folds. A swipe – then a taste, flicking his tongue in excitement. He threw his head back, relishing the flavour. 

Sweet. 

A muffled moan passed your lips. No, you wanted to say. Why? You wanted to cry out. It shouldn’t have felt so good.

There was a chuckle from the merman before he swam down, face right at your cunt, but this was more than you had bargained for. You immediately pulled your legs together and pushed away from him, kicking your feet to swim upwards. Whatever he wanted, he wouldn't get it so easily. 

You had to go up. Up would mean the surface. You would be free. Up would mean… 

The merman watched you swim  away slowly, following without a sound. You swam well, but he was faster. The swell of your ass and bouncing tits made his cock stir. What had once been driven by curiosity was now being driven by…hunger. 

Seeing his silhouette approach, you cried out, but there was nothing to be done. He extended an arm and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you to him. You struggled and pounded your fists against his firm chest, bubbles escaping your mouth where there should have been sound. Unfortunately for you, it only served to heighten his hunger.

The merman had never held a body like yours: soft, pudgy flesh that dipped into enticing contours, full rounded breasts that hung like the fruits of Eden. Arms thick and muscular, tanned by the warmth of the sun's rays. And petal-like lips that pulled into a frown of disapproval. 

 You continued to struggle, but his grip remained steady. Ignoring your wriggling protests, he flicked his tongue between your breasts, trailing it down your chest and soft tummy till he reached your crotch once again. 

Be good. 

You jolted as his tongue snaked out and rubbed against your clit. He wasn’t—he couldn’t—

Sweet…

Strong arms parted your legs this time, holding you in place by your ass. Trying to escape was futile – all you could do was whimper helplessly. The merman’s tongue lapped at your pussy— slow flicks that took their time to explore you fully. He knew what he was doing. His lips found your clit and closed over the small bud, softly sucking on it. You squeezed the merman’s head between your thighs as your head fell back, soundless moans escaping you and disappearing into the darkness above. You could feel nothing else in this damp, muffled existence. Only him. 

Filled with loathing and pleasure, you reached down, carding your fingers through his silky hair, pushing your hips into his face, further and further as he smiled against your skin, his hunger only growing with each lick and taste. You should have pushed away. You longed to do so still. And yet, you pushed into him more and more as his claws dug into your skin.

 Geto. The voice came once again creeping into your mind soft as a spiders web. Say my name. Say it.

“Geto!” You cried out, almost like a prayer. The name drifted upwards through the sea and towards the sky somewhere far above. Your orgasm drew closer, effectively pulled from your tightening core. The merman felt you squirm and kept going, unwavering: tongue almost flat against your pussy, licking thick stripes from the bottom to your clit. Two webbed fingers found their way to your opening, pushing into you roughly. The fingers curled inside as he sucked on your clit once more.

You squeezed your eyes shut. This was wrong. It was so wrong. But it felt so good. How? It didn’t make any sense! You’d never felt such ecstasy in your life, falling apart in the arms of this monster known only in legend, your legs spread wide as the creature made sure his teeth didn't pierce the soft flesh, pleasure heightening with each continued touch. 

Without warning, your climax hit you, wracking through your body and making you spasm and quiver in the merman’s hold. Hips bucking into his face, you rode out your desperate orgasm, feeling every touch Geto made with his tongue and fingers. The water rippled around you, scaring away a school of small fish. 

Geto swam up to your eye level once again, examining you carefully as you twitched and shuddered through your orgasm. He gently placed your arms around his neck, waiting for you to finish. 

Good? 

You nodded in response; it wasn't like you could hide your glazed-over eyes, still coming down from the involuntary high. It had been the merman who had drawn the arrow, and made sure of its well-aimed release, the same merman who now pulled you in for a searing kiss. 

His lips were icy-cold - a striking contrast against yours. Yet he kissed with a ferociousness that threatened to consume you whole. “Geto…” You moaned against his mouth, the vibrations of sound the only other sensation you could feel apart from his lips. He only responded with a hum: a rumbling melody that cut through the waters. His hips pushed up against you and you looked down. Through a small slit in his tail, his cock stood at attention. Unlike any human anatomy, it seemed the ocean had had its way here. In spite of yourself, you studied the appendage, observing it just long enough for Geto to notice. It was longer than any you had seen before, but not very thick. The tip was pointed and not round, but didn't seem like it'd be painful. It matched the colour of his scales,  gold threads running all the way around it like veins. 

A hand encircled your throat, drawing your gaze back to his face: a beautiful prince of the ocean draped in glittering jewels, silky black hair that the current played with, dark amethyst eyes that did not leave you even once. What was there to fear, to doubt? Any apprehensions you might have had drifted into the impenetrable waters, carried away by the waves. You laced your fingers behind his head, and he pressed against your body, scales rubbing against your skin. His cock-head prodded at your fat thighs and you spread your legs of your own accord this time, allowing it to slip in. The water helped, almost as though a living being itself, allowing him to pull you further onto his length. 

His lips met your throat now, gently pressing soft kisses against the thin skin. 

Warm…You are beautiful. And you are mine. 

You nodded. His. You would be his. There was no denying it. 

Geto’s cock now bottomed out in you. Still raw from your climax, your insides twitched at the sensation. It was so new. So different. It was as if someone else had taken over your body, making you react in ways that you’d never imagined. Who was this person inside you, moaning and pushing yourself closer to him? Who had you become?

His broad chest pressed against your breasts, and you moaned at the sensation of him grazing your nipples ever so slightly. Your fingers found the fin on the merman’s back and you ran the top down its arch, drawing out a hiss from his lips. He thrust up in response,  and you cried out at the sudden feeling of his cock hitting your cervix. He grinned at you again with those rows of shark-like teeth – threatening despite his smile. His arms around your waist, he manoeuvred your body according to his will, slamming you onto his cock repeatedly, each thrust sending you further and further into blissful stupor. Your head dropped into the crook of his neck, hair tangling with his. But he did not stop, thrusting faster and harder. He could feel the jiggle of your body against his, and it drove him insane with need. Fat flesh, full tits, thick ass — you had been the perfect choice. Everything he could ever dream of. He never wanted to let you go. 

Geto chased his release, desperate to fill your cunt with his seed. The effect of the potion he had slipped into you earlier would wear off soon, and he had to get you back to the surface before it was too late. His thrusts grew sloppier, more erratic, as he continued pumping in you, fingers tangled in your hair as another hand held your waist. Your soft mewls and moans - which he could hear, even if you couldn’t - spurred him on further, and with a deep groan he spilled into you, pressing you as close to him as possible. He would not waste a single drop.

When he was finished, Geto pulled your head close to his, kissing you again. Good human. You did so well. 

You smiled at his praise. You did well for him, and it filled your heart with joy and relief. But a nagging feeling told you it wasn't right. You shouldn't have. You didn't belong here. 

Geto held your arm once again and swam, this time towards the surface. “Geto…?” You carefully called out, your body feeling heavier by the second. He hummed once again, but you couldn't think of something to say. 

The water rushed past the two of you as he swam faster with you in his arms, the current of the ocean almost passing through you. Your chest began to burn, and it was so much harder to breathe. Around you, the ocean darkened, the burning sensation spreading through your lungs. “No,” you gasped, but nothing came out. You grabbed onto the merman’s arm, desperate to tell him somehow, but he only swam faster. Whatever little you could see of him was blurry, the ocean calling you back down despite how close you were to the sky again. Your surroundings faded from sight and you kicked at the water in a futile attempt to reach air. The last thing you felt before blacking out was Geto pulling you into his embrace as he continued the climb to the surface.

******

You came to on a secluded patch of your hometown beach. The sun had just started to rise above the horizon, the sky turning lighter and lighter as you coughed up salt water onto the wet sand. It burned in your throat, and you had never been more thankful for the oxygen that filled your lungs now. You were wearing your bikini again, but you remembered it drifting away in the deep. Had it all been a dream? Had you just drowned under a wave and been regurgitated back by the sea? 

You sat up slowly, looking out at the grey morning waves. In the distance there was a flash of a brilliant blue. Your heart jumped in your chest, and you clutched at the pearls around your throat…pearls around your throat…

A reminder. A promise. A warning. 

MINE. 

AN: This fic would not have seen the light of day if it wasn't for @ominouslywritinginmyhead. Not only did she rewrite whole chunks of garbled prose, she also encouraged me gently to overcome my blocks and finally finish the bastard. Thank you for taking the time to look over it with such haste even giving up your Halloween party with Toji cosplayers to help my smutty literature. Thank you for your support and your love. I couldn't have done it without you Saber.

[yanderenightmare]

GETO SUGURU masterlist

Top half – FEMx Bottom half – GNx

FEMx

Geto x Curse darling:

♡ CURSE DARLINGS

Bully Gojo and Geto picking on their classmate:

♡ PLAY NICE

Bully Suguru is not like other bullies:

♡ BULLY

Bully Gojo & Geto drugging crush:

♡ ODD…

Arranged marriage with Geto, but he shares you with Gojo:

♡ ARRANGED MARRIAGE

Boyfriend Suguru shares you with his best friend Satoru:

♡ FAVORITE PEOPLE

Geto eats curse!reader:

♡ FLAVOUR

SatoSugu kidnap curse!reader:

♡ BIRTHDAY CAKE

GNx

Yandere captor Geto with a darling without cursed energy:

♡ THE DIFFERENCE ♡ POUTY

Poly SatoSugu sharing captive darling headcanons:

♡ HOUSEWIFE

Geto likes seeing you cry:

♡ DACROPHILIA

Geto x Curse darling:

♡ PAYMENT

Cult leader Geto takes advantage of one of his devotees:

♡ MONKEY

SatoSugu x assistant superviser:

♡ SUIT

SatoSugu with kidnapped reader:

♡ THE SAME

Similar posts can be found in the following:

♡ FEM x M INSERT ♡ GN x M INSERT

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

We've only just begun (a Mon-el introspective? Idk dont ask me) (Rhea's wedding plans succeed)

Mon-el jolts from his misery when the door to his cell clicks open, and shoots to his feet when he sees Lena Luthor on the other side. He blinks in surprise.

"How...?"

Lena flashes an access key, apparently palmed from some soldier's gauntlet. Her smirk is flat and humorless. "You should really have a talk with your guards."

Mon-el scowls. "They're not *my*--"

"Whatever," comes the dismissive retort. "Coming?"

Mon-el is certainly not staying. But he's not about to let Lena Luthor take the lead, either. He overtakes her brisk pace in a jog, and though she huffs with derision, she thankfully doesn't protest. Kara's heroics have rubbed off on him enough to know that if Lena got hurt while he lagged behind... well. The less said about that, the better.

Mon-el manages to take out the few guards they run into on the way to the nearest transmat pad, but their disappearance is noticed just as Lena swipes the access key across the final sensor keeping them from their escape.

A siren blares, echoing in the empty corridor. Closing themselves in the transmat chamber is no better-- there the pulsing wail of the alarm presses close around them, even as Lena surges towards the control panel.

"Damn it!" she curses, fingers flying over the control board. "Shit!"

"They shut it down remotely?" Mon-el guesses correctly. Lena glares at the console. "We're trapped then."

"Maybe not!" Lena shouts over the klaxon. "If I can--"

The door opens behind them, admitting a squadron of guards who swiftly spill into the room. Mon-el smoothly disarms one, then floors another with a strike to his sternum. He knows all he can do to aid their escape is to buy Lena time--

Three guards pile on him at once, driving him to the ground. In moments he's restrained in manacles and pinned to the floor with a knee digging sharply into his back.

"Step back!" a guard barks at Lena, aggression plain in his posture.

Lena ignores him, jaw tight as she focuses on her task. In horror, Mon-el watches the guard level his staff weapon at Lena, preparing to fire.

"Step back!" the guard bellows again.

Again, Lena ignores him, even when the weapon at her back whines with a building electrical charge. Mon-el twists against the guard pinning him, to no avail. Finally, he sags.

"Lena," is all he says.

At the sound of his voice, Lena's fingers pause. Then her eyes close for a long moment, lips thinning into a tense line. Finally, she lifts her hands from the controls, and steps back.

In an instant, the guard seizes her by the arm and yanks her away. She gives a cry of pain as she stumbles, her bare feet scuffing against the floor.

"Careful!" Mon-el snaps, even as his own captors heave him to his feet. The guard flashes him a glare, which Mon-el meets with all the haughty authority he can muster. "The queen won't be pleased if you damage her."

The man scowls, but his grip relaxes ever so slightly. Mon-el meets Lena's eyes briefly, and finds a heady mix of irritation and despair staring back at him.

"Let's go!"

The guards march them from the room. Mon-el expects them to be escorted to the throne room, where his mother would chide them like children, but to his surprise, his escort turns back towards the cells. Lena's, however, turns the opposite direction.

"Hey!" Mon-el shouts, digging in his heels to try and maneuver back towards Lena. "Stop!"

"Mon-el!" Lena calls back, twisting desperately against the grip on her arm. She knows that separation would leave them both vulnerable. "Let me go!"

But no one listens. As the distance between them grows, Mon-el cranes his neck to look over his shoulder towards Lena, only to have his stop plummet when he sees her growing terror. Unable to do anything more, Mon-el draws on the only reassurance he has to offer.

"Supergirl will come!" he shouts to Lena, even as her captor turns them around the corner out of sight. "She's coming!"

---

Kara doesn't come. Not soon enough, anyway. He waits and hopes while he sits in his solitary cell, while he wonders if Lena was unharmed, when a pair of servants deliver a set of fresh finery to dress in.

"For your nuptials," sneers one of the two guards now posted at the cell door.

When he's dressed and finally escorted back to the throne room for the ceremony, Mon-el is relieved when Lena trails in just a few minutes later. She'd been given the same treatment, her dark gown traded for one of the richest red-- the color reserved for the very highest of rank. It is the color of Rao, and a symbol of his approval for the ceremony to come.

Lena seems defiant as she stalks towards the dais where Mon-el stands, but as Rhea commands the broadcast to begin and starts her speech, Mon-el feels Lena trembling beside him. He looks at her from the corner of his eye, and sensing his gaze, Lena looks back with apprehension in her eyes.

He hears Lena swallow thickly when Rhea orders them to face each other, and the fingers Mon-el takes in his own shake with the power of her thundering heartbeat. He wants to offer reassurance, but has none to give. This is happening, and nothing either of them can do will stop it.

A priest winds a silver ribbon around their joined hands, binding them together in the sight of Rao and his witnesses. As Rhea declares their marriage firm and final, Lena blinks, spilling a single tear down her cheek.

The broadcast ends, and Lena yanks her hands from Mon-el's the instant the ribbon is removed. She scrubs the tear away with the heel of one hand, swallowing again to steel herself as Rhea approaches.

"You performed beautifully, my dear," his mother says. She reaches out to brush Lena's cheek, who sharply pulls her head away from the touch. Rhea tsks. "Ah, well."

She turns to address them both. "I would have allowed you to spend your wedding night together, however after your little escapade, I don't trust that you won't cause trouble."

With a clap of her hands, the guards step forward once more, gripping them both tightly. Mon-el keeps his attention on Lena, watching as her gaze goes flat-- numb.

"I'm sorry," Mon-el says before Lena is dragged away, and he himself soon after. It echoes in his ears as they return him to his cell, and thunders in his head when his helplessness closes in around him.

I'm sorry.

----

Supergirl arrives a week later, after coordinating resistance against the Daxamite soldiers on the ground. When she arrives in the cell block where Mon-el waits, Kara's brow furrows in alarm.

"Where's Lena?" she demands.

"I don't know," Mon-el replies dully. "She may be in the royal wing, but I'm not--"

"Let's go."

Kara barely spares a moment to wrench the doors apart before marching away, and Mon-el is all too willing to follow. Backing Supergirl is something he can do-- now, he can finally help. He leads them to the most lavish of the court's chambers, correctly guessing that his mother had extended her the luxury of a high noble.

Within the chamber they find Lena, now changed from her red wedding gown to robes of deep purple. Between that and the way her hair is styled in the fashion of Daxam's courtiers, she looks every inch a Daxamite princess.

Lena turns from the window at their entrance. Her gaze bounces between them briefly. "Supergirl."

Kara is already closing the distance between them. Mon-el sees the way her arms lift to embrace Lena, only to redirect midway to grasp her friend by the shoulders.

"You're all right?" Supergirl asks.

Lena nods. "Yes, thank you."

Mon-el wonders if Kara can hear the distance in Lena's voice. If she does, she gives no indication as she shifts to the task at hand. "Let's get out of here."

Taking Lena by the hand, Kara guides them both from the chamber. With Supergirl as their escort, not a single guard can stop them: each one ends up crumpled at their feet, senseless or dead-- Mon-el isn't sure he wants to know which.

To his surprise, Lena slips her hand from Supergirl's after the second guard goes down, scooping up his sidearm as she follows the hero's path. The fact he hadn't thought to do the same pricks at Mon-el's pride, as does Supergirl's swift dispatch of any opponents they run into. But he keeps it to himself, aware that they are only this close to freedom because of Kara's help.

The alarms sound a few corridors away from the transmat room, and Lena's shoulders stiffen. "They'll have locked down the consoles," she says stiffly. "But if you can--"

"We don't need the consoles," Supergirl delivers with a smirk. She plucks a small fob from beneath the neck of her suit. "Different exit strategy."

At that, Lena's features spread into a conspiratorial grin, and for a moment Mon-el feels entirely out of place. Then Supergirl turns to him, nods, and cocks her head towards the end of the corridor.

"This way."

They make it to the far end of the ship without Lena having to fire a single shot. Reaching a deserted room, Kara guides them inside, then clicks the button on her fob just once. Instantly, the ship melts away, and the world coalesces around them once more into an entirely different scene.

Suddenly-- still-- attuned to Lena, Mon-el registers the moment Lena realizes where she is. Her eyes widen in surprise, scanning the icy fortress around her. In that scan, Lena's gaze lands on a tall, slender woman who must have activated the device to bring them home. In an instant, Lena's features shutter once more.

"Mother."

The woman saunters forward, and in her regal stature and haughtily bemused features, Mon-el sees his own mother. And just like with Rhea, Lena recoils when her mother reaches to touch her cheek.

The woman sighs at her reaction. "Even now, Lena?"

"Don't pretend you're here out of the goodness of your heart," Lena snaps.

"I'm here for you," her mother delivers firmly. "For my daughter."

"So you'll leave without me?"

At this, the woman frowns. "They are the reason this happened, they cannot be trusted!"

She reaches for her daughter's arm, only for Lena to wrench herself out of reach.

"*I* am the reason this happened, mother," Lena hisses. She glances guiltily towards where Kara has stiffened in surprise, but powers through. "*They* are the ones who will help me fix it."

"That's absolutely out of the question--"

"Your opinion means nothing." Lena bristles with obstinance, as though all the resistance she'd been unable to enact on the ship had found its outlet in this moment. "Now leave, so the rest of us can go home."

The woman scowls. "You're making a mistake."

"Not this time," comes Lena's firm reply, only for her mother to lift a knowing eyebrow.

"We'll see."

---

Once the woman leaves with her henchmen, Supergirl removes her cape to wrap it around Lena, whose thin gown offered little resistance to the Arctic cold. Lena accepts the gesture with a thin, shivering smile.

"Thank you."

Kara nods in reassurance. "Let's go home."

Outside a DEO helicopter waits for them with a pilot standing by. The trip feels long to Mon-el, spent in awkward silence seated between his girlfriend and his new wife.

Wife.

That means something to him, he finds. He watches Lena carefully throughout the ride, though she largely ignores him in favor of staring out the window. Supergirl, for her part, studies the both of them. The helicopter lands twenty miles from National City, not trusting the Daxamite fleet wouldn't shoot them from the sky on approach.

When they disembark, Mon-el sees Lena's look of surprise when he turns to help her down from the helicopter. But after that moment of hesitation, Lena accepts his assistance by placing her hand in his.

The last leg of their journey is spent in the back of an SUV, and Mon-el's shoulder brushes Lena's as they speed down the interstate. When the National City skyline comes into view, Lena stiffens at the columns of smoke still rising from the city. It looks like a scene from one Winn's movies, but it's not. It's real, and from the way Lena barely seems to breathe, the reality presses on her just as heavily.

They arrive at the alien bar with little fanfare. But even the quiet embraces Alex gives Kara and Winn gives Mon-el leaves Lena standing pointedly alone. Upon seeing Lena draw Supergirl's cape more securely around herself, Mon-el extricates himself from Winn's tight hug.

"Perhaps you have some clothes more comfortable?" he asks. Winn follows his gaze, seemingly only then noticing their final guest.

"Oh!" he chirps. "Yeah, of course! Hi, Miss Luthor."

Lena offers only the smallest upturn of her lips in gratitude. Her eyes flash to Mon-el, her features inscrutable in the barest of moments before she allows Winn to lead her inside. Mon-el almost follows, but lingers when Kara does. They finally embrace, and Mon-el releases some of the tension he'd been carrying with a sigh.

"Thank you," he murmurs quietly.

"I saw the broadcast," Kara says. When she pulls away, her face is creased with worry. "The wedding. Are... are you okay?"

Mon-el pauses, and realizes he doesn't quite know how to respond. For want of an answer, he deflects.

"Lena spent the most time with my mother," he says, half jokingly. "She's the one you should worry about."

Kara frowns, a wrinkle forming between her eyebrows. "I can worry about you both."

"I'm fine." As he says the words, Mon-el can feel how untrue they are. He tries again. "I'll be fine when my people have left this planet for good."

Kara's gaze searches his, but thankfully doesn't push any further. "Now that we have you both back, we might stand a chance."

---

Their chance, as Mon-el had long suspected, is entirely Lena. When Mon-el follows the team to the DEO, Lena parts ways, heading for L-Corp. That she would go to her place of business instead of her home carries a meaning Mon-el can't quite define. Perhaps it is to Lena what the throne room is to his mother: a place of power, control... both of which Mon-el is certain Lena feels the need to regain.

Even so, he's relieved when she returns just a few hours later with a plan. His heart drops when he learns that plan is to poison Earth's atmosphere with lead, but when his gaze connects with Lena's, he finds no malice. If anything, she seems reluctant to offer the plan, clearly a last resort.

"We won't need it," Supergirl declares. She is sure of two things, where Mon-el is only certain of one: Supergirl may win the Dakam-ur, but Rhea will not honor it.

For the first time in his life, Mon-el wishes he'll be wrong.

He isn't.

---

Supergirl is the one to press the button, but it's Kara who says goodbye. Her eyes are full of tears, and even as he chokes on the air in his lungs, Mon-el wants nothing more than to wipe them away.

"I'm a better person, because of you," he coughs thickly. "Kara, please..."

"I'm sorry," she whispers hoarsely. "I'm so sorry."

Mon-el shakes his head. There's nothing to forgive. Instead, he has a request of his own.

"Take care of Lena."

Kara stares at him, confusion clouding her tear-filled gaze. "What?"

"She's going to need you," Mon-el gasps. "And you'll need her in return. Let her be what I couldn't."

"Mon-el..."

"Tell her I'm sorry. Tell her... I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to be the person she needed me to be. The person you both needed me to be." He wheezes painfully, every breath a thousand knives prickling his throat and lungs. "I should have stopped the wedding. You would have."

Kara shakes her head, but Mon-el knows. Had it been Supergirl in his shoes, she would have thought of some way to thwart the ceremony.

He should have thought to challenge his mother to the Dakam-ur himself, right there on that dais.

"Don't let Lena blame herself," Mon-el continues. "And don't blame yourself either. You made the right choice."

He doubts Kara believes him now, but in time, in the months or years it takes for the ache to fade, he knows she will. It is the right choice.

His final goodbye is a wave through the shuttles window as it lifts off the ground. Pre-programmed to exit Earth's orbit as swiftly as possible, he soon loses sight of Kara as the pod lifts through the atmosphere and into the dark of space.

In that void of expanse, Mon-el knows that whatever else, the two women he leaves behind will be fine. His wife and the love of his life will find their way through, together.

[yuriosakawa]

Invincible Variants x Catgirl!Reader 

It’s been two weeks.

Two weeks in this dry, desolate world with no sunrises, only a scorched sky that never dims. The eight Marks—your strange, terrifying, sometimes surprisingly gentle captors—have built a crude shelter using the remains of whatever was left behind in this barren world. You don’t understand much of what they say, but you watch them.

You’ve learned their rhythms.

Sinister Mark talks the most, always with a smirk. Mohawk Mark feeds you scraps and calls you “stray.” Full Mask Mark keeps his distance, always watching, always thinking. Prisoner Mark teases. Viltrumite Mark trains. Maskless Mark broods. Striped Mark hums when he's bored. Omni-Mark is quiet, like something heavy and eternal.

You’ve begun to recognize them by their energy.

But now something strange is happening to you.

Your body feels like fire. You don’t have the words for it. You’ve never had words. But your instincts are screaming.

You writhe against the sand. Your back arches involuntarily. You can’t stop purring—deep, desperate sounds that even you don’t understand. Your tail twitches endlessly. You ache. You need. Your thoughts are a haze of confusion and discomfort.

You crawl into the shade of the shelter and whimper, mewling in a way you never have before.

They notice. Of course they do.

All eight pairs of eyes turn toward you.

At first, they’re confused.

“She sick?” Mohawk Mark asks, crouching beside you with a furrowed brow.

“She’s not sick,” Sinister Mark says slowly, lips curling into an amused grin. “She’s in heat.”

The others blink. Then it clicks.

“Oh,” Prisoner Mark says with an almost gleeful little laugh. “Ohhh. That’s adorable.”

You mewl in protest, curling up tighter, face flushed with shame—even if you don’t fully understand why.

“Is that a thing? Like biologically?” Full Mask Mark asks, crossing his arms. “She’s human.”

“No, she’s not,” Omni-Mark answers coolly. “She’s something between. Her creator must’ve spliced too deep into feline territory. This… behavior is instinctual.”

“You poor thing,” Striped Mark chuckles. “You don’t even know what you want, do you?”

You don’t.

You just know something’s wrong. Something’s off. You rub against the fabric of the shelter wall, trying to relieve the pressure in your body, tail high, ears low, whining helplessly. The smell in the air changes—sharper, heavier. The variants shift uncomfortably, exchanging looks. Not out of desire—no. Just raw, almost scientific fascination.

“You’re a walking biology mistake,” Sinister Mark mutters with morbid amusement, kneeling beside you with a curious look in his eyes. “I kinda love it.”

“Don’t mess with her,” Maskless Mark warns, though he doesn’t sound especially angry. Just tired.

“She’s not in danger,” Viltrumite Mark says flatly. “Just uncomfortable.”

You let out a miserable little chirp, pressing your cheek into the warm sand, body trembling.

“You think a cold splash of water would help?” Mohawk Mark suggests, already reaching for a canteen.

“I think she’d claw your face off,” Full Mask Mark replies.

Sinister Mark leans in and whispers to you, mockingly sweet: “First heat, huh? Poor kitty. Welcome to the curse of instinct.”

You swat at him half-heartedly, hissing through your purrs.

They don’t hurt you. Not even close. But they watch. Amused. Intrigued. The way boys stare at a strange animal in a glass tank.

And though you’re burning up from the inside out, too confused to even cry properly—

—you realize they’re not going to leave you.

They’re your pride, in a twisted way. Strange, terrifying, bickering lions orbiting their confused little kitten.

You mewl again. A little softer. A little less frantic.

And their laughter fades into background noise as you curl up to wait it out.

Eventually, your body will calm.

Eventually.

[playstation-dreamcast]

The Gods (AO3 writer curse) have struck me down (given me strep) for my hubris (babysitting) so I've been like- dying dying. Still working, but in the meantime here a commission I did!

Physical touch headcanons with Wesker that got outta hand, pure fluff here. A little angst, but that just comes with the Wesker territory. Rated T for suggestive themes

Okay, so Wesker is actually a velcro captor boyfriend who always wants to cuddle with you- but he wasn’t always like that. You had to unlock that DLC. Before, any sort of physical touch was commonly initiated by him, and often led to the bedroom. He was under the impression that that was simply the sole purpose of physical touch. It was the only time he had ever experienced it at least

He was never really sure what to do when you were struck by The Emotions™️. He hardly knew what to do on the rare occasion when he was struck by The Emotions™️. So, he typically treated you the way he wanted to be treated, which is to say he left you the fuck alone. He knew he liked about a mile and a half worth of space on the yearly occasion that his heart decided to beat, so naturally you did too. Right?

Wrong, absolutely wrong. You found him, eyes glossy and rimmed in red, sniffling softly. And he felt that annoying clench in his chest, that unbearable need to protect you from whatever had upset you. But, he still couldn’t quite find it in himself to be soft. “What?” It was cold, and harsh, but also exactly what you were used to from him at this point.

“Look, I just…I’m having a really bad day, will you just hold me?” you asked through choked back tears. Odd. He genuinely couldn’t imagine you wanting to be intimate while crying, and honestly while he was in no way above dacryphilia, he preferred it to be from overstimulation as opposed to…whatever it was that had you upset now. The man hadn’t even thought to ask, my god. Still, He could be a good sport if you genuinely thought it would help.

Wesker was notoriously a man of few words. He doesn’t just out right tell you to crawl into his lap. Instead he would just lean back in his chair and you just kinda gotta get the message. And he’s fully prepared for things to get weird. It’s physical touch, getting weird is a requirement- it’s why it exists at all. Right? He was bracing himself for salty, tear filled kisses and sloppy sobs in between thrusts. He was almost tense thinking about it.

He was going to let you take the lead here- a rarity for him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into his chest as you sniffled. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you close and resting his head on the top of your own. It was shockingly soft. A tender moment that caught him a little off guard if we’re all being honest here.

Wesker was typically pretty good at reading into people’s ulterior motives. He was quite literally trained in it. But, he was a little lost here. He was fully expecting this whole ordeal to lead to sex, but the entire scene was just so…innocent. You seemed to genuinely just want to curl up in his arms for…fucking reasons, he guessed??? It went against his entire view of physical touch. Could you really just want to be held?

If you were paying attention, You would have seen the moment of breakthrough. The moment his eyes got a little wider as he realized what he had been missing out on this entire time. You weren’t paying attention though. You were too lost in his comforting warmth and familiar scent. Maybe you truly had lost it, but you did find safety in Wesker's arms, even if he was the most dangerous creature in the room at any given moment. He had told you once that he would never hurt you intentionally, and you believed him- no matter how foolish that might have been.

He let out a soft sigh, releasing some of his own tension from his shoulders. His hand slowly ran up your spine, comfortingly rubbing your back. You found yourself softly crying again. A part of you expected him to push you off his lap. Hell, a part of himself expected him to push you off his lap. You were both shocked when he softly rocked you instead, kissing the top of your head. You were safe to fall apart in his arms, he’d hold you together

Slowly you started to calm down. You adjusted in his arms, correcting your posture to better hold him as opposed to him holding you. Of everything in this world that Wesker understood perfectly, he’d never truly understand how you always seemed to know exactly what he needed. Slowly he melted right back into your arms, hiding from the rest of the world in the little bubble of delusional safety the two of you had made both with and for each other

You shifted, and you felt his grip tighten- silently begging demanding that you stay longer. So you got comfortable instead, far preferring this gentler (if you could call it that) side of Wesker that was at this point so often kept from you over his normal ice. You were sure Wesker had some sort of feelings for you, but where exactly you stood with him was an internal mystery. At least with moments like these it felt a little clearer. 

He wasn’t sure when you fell asleep, he wasn’t sure if he had joined you in sleep or not. But at some point twilight turned to night, and you were softly snoring in his arms. He rubbed your back, taking a moment to feel the weight of you against his chest. To take in the full gravity of the situation he found himself in and how hopeless it was. How dare his human heart still beat, and how dare you hold it as if it was never his to begin with. Maybe it wasn’t. Actually it definitely wasn’t, there had to be a reason it had only ever stirred for you and like- two other people ever. (Oh Birkin. Oh Chris.)

That was different though. Birkin was his equal on all fronts, and Chris was just so fucking pristine Wesker felt like he had to dirty him; to own him and possess him then drag him through the mud to bring him down to Weskers level. You didn’t fit into either of those categories. You were something that defied categorization itself. It was no wonder you had captivated him so much more than they had. You had- quite literally- crawled into his lap and showed him that human touch, with zero sexual promise, was not only possible but in some cases preferable. He was not going to be normal about this information, he was never going to stop holding you. 

Finally he stood up, still holding you in his arms as he took you to your shared bedroom. He laid you down, put a blanket over you, then had to take a second to realize what the fuck he was doing. Wesker had long since accepted that at some point you stopped being just an experiment and became something more when he wasn’t looking. But it was nights like these when he wondered what life with you could have been like if he was different. If he could access this caring side of his on command rather than it having to be slowly coaxed out of him.

Oh well. No use getting lost in what ifs now. He wasn’t that man, and he had no desire to be that man. Your current reality suited him just fine, and he’d make it suit you eventually.

That next morning was the first morning you woke up to find him in bed with you, arms wrapped around you and holding you tightly to him. It would remain a rare occurrence, Wesker often working long into the night and waking up early to get back to it. Bio terrorism never rested, so therefore he never rested either. Still, it was always a nice surprise when it happened.

[mariaxxxxx]

In The End, I Gave In

Summary: Namor makes a proposal: his body in exchange for the princess and the scientist's freedom

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/ Minors DNI, Angust, Sex, Apologies, Crying, Creampie, Passionate sex, size difference, smut, soft!dom!, slight degradation, unprotected sex (don't do that wrap this thing), aftercare, curse words, breeding kink. Dark!Namor

A/N: English is not my mother tongue. I apologize for any errors.

A/N: I went back! And to celebrate my return, here's a story about the dark water father

Work count: 2.000

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

“Are you coming?”

You hesitated then. There was no turning back, since you had already made the deal with him and had followed him to his cabin. Your stomach was churning with excitement and fear. Backing out was out of the question. In normal situations you could make up an excuse and leave in an Uber, but being in a situation where the liberation of an African princess, a young college student and world peace were in your hands there was no way to back out.

“I’m going.” You said trying not to stutter.

You followed him inside. Your throat was dry, your stomach was churning and your heart was beating so hard in your chest that the sound echoed through the room. After all, backing out was out of the question.

“Are you afraid of me?” He asked.

“No.” You whispered.

“Then why don’t you look me in the eye?”

You sighed and turned to look him in the eye, trying to convey the idea of ​​trust, but he was an experienced and clever man. You smelled of fear and regret. You were shaking like an animal about to be slaughtered and in a way you were; a small fish in a shark’s den.

“I just want this to be over soon.” You said, looking at him genuinely.

“You can give up.”

“We both know that’s not possible. Just take what you want.”

You moved closer to him until you were close. He raised a hand and stroked the line of your jaw with his index finger. There was a passionate glint in his eyes.

“Hurrying won’t get you anywhere, young lady.” He said, he was so close now that your noses were practically touching.

“Just tell me what I have to do.”, you whispered.

“Just relax, my girl. I’ll take good care of you.”

Namor’s hands ran down your sides, then stopped just below your breasts covered by a green cotton bra, caressing them with his calloused fingers. You shivered, biting your lower lip. You placed your hands on Namor’s chest, offering him a forced smile. You pushed him away and walked to the wall full of drawings with Mesoamerican features just to breathe and try to calm your heart.

You shivered when you felt his breath on the shell of your ear. Your body shuddered, gripping the hem of your blouse tightly. Namor bit your earlobe, sinking his sharp canines in. The presence of the man behind you, caressing the sides of your body and leaving trails of bites and hickeys on your neck. He had hidden his face in the curve of your shoulder, pressing wet kisses to the exposed skin there. Slowly but skillfully, he undid the buttons of your blouse one by one. Once your blouse was off your body, he pulled your bra hard to rip it off, exposing your breasts. The cold of the room hit you, your skin shivering. You wanted to cover your breasts, push him away, walk away. No man had ever seen you like this. His hands grabbed your breasts; caressing the soft flesh and pinching your nipples until they were erect, hard and sensitive to the touch. A sigh escaped you. You had been waiting a long time for this. Waiting for the right man who would be the first and the last. Now, here you were giving up your virginity in exchange for freedom. It felt so wrong and so right at the same time, it felt right that he was first, but wrong how things were arranged.

Your breath caught in your throat as Namor pulled your jeans down with your panties coming right after. And just like that, your body was exposed to your captor. Your skin was hot all over. Namor took off your golden adornments and placed them on the wooden table. He dragged his hands down your body from your breasts to your belly, stopping just inches before your pussy. Your legs were closed and rigid, preventing any contact.

“Open your legs.” He ordered.

You didn’t want to obey him; you wanted to push him away and run away from there. Go far away with Riri and all this mess with underwater nations and vibranium. You wished you hadn’t agreed to participate in this project alongside your roommate. It was just a childish idea, you had thought at the time, the metal was untraceable. But fate seemed to have played a trick on you with a corrupt professor who sold the project to the American government, the princess and the bald warrior in your dorm and now the leader of a great nation taking away your innocence.

“No.” You said trying to sound brave, but it came out as a weak whisper.

Namor didn’t seem willing to argue he just grabbed your right thigh and pinched it hard until you screamed and your legs parted involuntarily. He flicked your clit a few times with his middle finger, and then rubbed it slowly in circles. A sound of pleasure escaped your mouth, your head tilted back. He went faster, rubbing his finger back and forth between your wet folds. Namor pushed one finger inside and then another. You cried out at the new sensation.

“Tight. So tight.” He said in your ear. “I need to prepare you well, my girl.”

You thought you should be offended and angry, but for some reason, you weren’t. He opened and closed his fingers like scissors, touching a very sensitive spot; you moaned even louder and pushed your hips back, seeking more contact.

“Please...” You whispered between pathetic moans and supplications. He continued to move his fingers inside you and with his thumb he rubbed your swollen and sensitive clitoris. That was enough to make you tremble, your lower abdomen contract and your legs weaken. You exploded in a mind-blowing orgasm that took the air from your lungs.

Your body was limp and trembling with small spasms caused by the climax, your clitoris throbbed and your pussy gushed with excitement. Namor removed his fingers from inside your pussy. You dared to look down only to find his fingers wet and your thighs moist.

“What a good girl.” He purred in your ear. “If I were young and a little foolish I would have married you. A wet and willing woman is very rare these days.”

You wanted to slap him to death. You weren’t willing, you never were! He had compelled you to do this with a promise of peace and freedom for you and your fellow inmates.

“I’m not willing.” You replied between breaths.

“If you weren’t, your pussy wouldn’t be this wet.” He pressed his body against yours and you could feel his cock in your ass. “You’ve been attracted to me since you arrived, girl. All it took was for me to push you over the edge.”

“I hate you!”

“Good. Hatred is better than indifference.”

You heard Namor undo the thick belt and then take off the thong. Anticipation was growing in your stomach. For a few seconds nothing happened. You didn’t dare turn your head to watch him, until you felt the head of his cock brushing against your opening.

It takes a few tries to locate your virgin slit, he grabs your hips, and uses his cock to slam against your pussy, sliding in a single thrust. Namor was pushing in slowly, but you were shaking all over. In pain, you reached back and placed a hand on his hip, stopping him like a silent plea. He understood and waited.

A few moments passed before he started thrusting again. It was slow, but he was pounding hard. You propped yourself up on your tiptoes and spread your open hands on the mural, trying to get comfortable, trying to forget the pain. He was big, thick and relentless. You could feel him so deep inside you that not even your vaginal lubrication was able to soothe the discomfort. When he began to thrust, moving your hips towards his cock, you let out sounds through your mouth and tears in your eyes.

“Stop...” You swallowed the rest of the sentence when he contoured his hand to your clitoris and stimulated it, causing a feeling of discomfort and pleasure. It was sensitive and hard. “No... Stop...”

He didn't listen to you. His thrusts became faster, stronger, and you could feel your breasts swaying with the force he exerted. You closed your eyes tightly, unaccustomed to the idea of ​​sharing your body, unaccustomed to the idea of ​​having someone inside you. Tears began to fall, Namor's fingers continued to work even faster and his cock was relentless inside you. In and out, out and in.

“Good girl, good girl, good girl.” He murmured between moans and growls of pleasure. “So good. Such a good girl with such a tight, wet pussy.”

Namor pressed your clit hard and you came again, this time around his cock. Your eyes closed with a loud moan as heat coursed through your body. Your walls clenched around him, he purposefully fucked you hard, riding out his own release. He fucked you harder, faster, and more relentlessly. You screamed as he slammed into you one last time, spilling all of his cum inside your pussy.

He stayed inside you for a few moments, breathing heavily in your ear. With a long sigh of completion, he patted your ass and pulled away. For a while, you both sat in silence, catching your breath until you looked down and noticed a pearly tear running down your legs to the floor. You turned around suddenly, furious, and screamed at him. “What’s your problem? You came inside me. I’m not on the pill.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said, not really paying attention to the problem. He was getting dressed; covering his softening cock with his thong and covering his forearms with vibranium jewelry. You slid against the wall until your bare ass was on the floor, naked and curled up, too embarrassed to move.

“I can’t have a baby.” You whispered, fighting back the tears and the trembling in your chest at the possibility of having conceived a child with this man.

“It would be a great honor for you to carry my child.” He said, looking at you. “But I will ask my servant to make an herbal infusion. Now, get dressed and go back to your friends.”

He finished getting dressed and walked over to your version huddled against the wall. You were shaking with cold, shame and pleasure. That man was capable of taking all of that out of you. He crouched down until he was at your height and, for the first time, you really saw him. Looking deep into his onyx-colored eyes.

“Will you keep your promise?” You asked. He took a while to answer. His eyes seemed conflicted as if a dispute was taking place inside him. With a very long sigh, Namor stood up and looked down at you. In that position he looked even more imposing and you small and pathetic.

“Yes.” He said simply before turning and walking away, leaving you alone behind.