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mo0nfairy · 1 year

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ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ UNCHAINED MELODY, PART FOUR !

summary :: surviving raccoon city together, you catch the affections of leon kennedy, ada wong, jill valentine, and carlos oliveira. six years later, you reunite with them and realize their obsession with you has increased tenfold.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 19.5k (oops)

content warnings :: mdni! yandere!jill, yandere!carlos, smut, gender neutral reader, dom!jill, sub!carlos, switch!reader, nudity, noncon, penetrative s3x, unprotected s3x, oral s3x, masturb4tion, f1ngering, overst1mulation, edging, spitting, physical restraint, love triangle, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, mild force-feeding, violence, death, manipulation, drugging, blood/gore, weapons, unhealthy religious themes, & just lots of creepy shit.

──── Five months; 153 days. That is how long Jill and Carlos have spent in the clouds of heaven with their one and only, Y/N L/N. So much has changed in such little time. Drastically, but all too invigorating in the same breath.

The two people who have claimed to be your lovers tell you tales of what horrors are rooted in the place you once called home. How they lathered your brain in their lies and how they thread through your veins with manipulation — five months have passed and you still cannot believe it to be true. They provided you shelter, comfort, and love; they lent you a rope to climb when you were left for dead at rock bottom.

Even with the clutter of Jill's studies she shows to you as proof, the way she clenches her jaw when you speak of them makes you regret ever mentioning the subject. Even with the scars Carlos shows you from when he had worked for the corporation, the vein that bulges above his brow when you speak of them makes you recoil with apprehension.

Your days and nights have been spent pondering what lies outside of these walls. This sudden contrast in your life doesn't fog your judgment entirely, though. With every day the rain falls, you have come to learn several new things.

Oh, how Jill Valentine loves the taste of Y/N L/N.

It is evident throughout every day, where fragments of her obsession are sprinkled into every moment you spend together.

When dawn arises and the birds begin to fill the air with their melodies, Jill awakes and you are the first thing she sees. And the precious imagery alone causes all higher brain function to abandon her. Being here with you, the only reason she continues to live on is breathtaking. To wake up and find the star of her dreams beside her while the presence of her nightmares fade away — there is no high quite like it.

With a lanky arm wrapped firmly around your waist, the other treads across your flesh. The stripe of your jaw, the expanse of your eyelid, the apple of your cheek. To touch you, never has Jill been so happy. A hum of laughter vibrates in her chest when she takes notice of the string of drool leaking from your mouth. Too damn cute. She restrains herself from cooing and instead, focuses on the way her sweatpants grow tighter when her mind wanders.

Jill drags her calloused fingers among the wet surface of your parted lips and collects the excess saliva, all without a hint of guilt or hesitance. Fervently, like some sort of starved beast, she shoves the digits into her mouth and ensnares her wriggling tongue around them. The constriction is almost suffocating; the flare of heat inside her is almost overwhelming.

Jill could stay here forever, relishing in the absolute euphoria only you are capable of bringing her. However, the day calls out for the two of you (as well as a man who is just as needy as she is for your attention).

With leisure efforts, she pulls the expensive comforters off of your warm body. She gently nudges your arm and purrs out your name. Five months later, there is still nothing that has her heart melting quite like the groggy, all-too-adorable look of lethargy on your expression. The way you rub the sleepiness out of your eyes and groan for "five more minutes," it takes Jill all the strength within her to not lock the door and spend the day drowning you in her love. Sometimes, she waves a white flag to her desires and does such, despite the grizzly bear banging on the door and demanding she let him see you.

Rainfall hastens as light envelops the land. You and Jill arrive at the kitchen where you find Carlos at the stove, laboriously working on something mouthwatering.

Upon your entrance, Carlos beams and risks the fate of burning the food in favor of greeting you. An embrace, one that rivals two lovers who haven't seen each other in decades, is what you're met with. A kiss on your forehead and an affectionate tap to your chin follow, as well as a promise that "breakfast will be ready soon, honey-bee."

Jill averts her gaze from the lovesick man. The sight may convince her to snatch an impromptu weapon from the knife block and slice his throat. Despite the elation of having you at her side, the possessive roots within her will always reside, unfortunately.

Two plates are soon set before you and Jill. For a number of times you cannot possibly fathom, Carlos sits beside you. Shoulders pressed to yours, he wastes no time in scooping a mouthful of delectable food and pressing it to your mouth. You thank him, as you always do, and he gushes about how much of a sweet thing you are. Meanwhile, Jill remains silent and scarfs down the meal with no regard to the effort he put into crafting it (there is much less effort in her dish than there is in yours, but not that she acknowledges).

Carlos refused to cook for her before, claiming that she can "get her own damn food." Though, your kind heart offered some of your breakfast to her and Jill resorted to feeding you with that irritatingly-smug look on her face. From here on out, he'd always leave an extra plate out for her. Carlos would prepare Jill an entire buffet if it meant he'd still possess his role of being your personal fork-holder. Nobody else.

After a night spent in cold sheets, Carlos proceeds to hog you as a child would with their favorite toy. The sleeping schedule you three have fluctuates every other night, to where you'll spend the evening with one of them and the next with the other. The two bedrooms within the home are assigned to Jill and Carlos, where they get to spend the precious time indulging in the joy of finally being alone with you. Evenings with Jill often fuel the gnawing need this man has to have you close. The similar way it does the other way around, as well.

With the rainfall now intensely heavy and engulfing the green atmosphere, you had deemed yourself fully satiated with love. Managing to slip out of the house for some fresh air after Carlos had so greedily taken yours, you stumble into the garage. From there, you find Jill, whose clothes and skin are adorned with stains of grease.

Wrench in hand, she works tirelessly on her motorcycle. She makes some flirtatious introduction that makes your face hot, as she was always skilled in getting under your skin with her provocative attitude. And for the next several hours (and an inconspicuous task given to Carlos so you'll receive a few seconds of time away from him), you aid Jill in her efforts to patch up her bike. Apparently, an animal had squeezed through some cranny and claimed Jill's baby (besides you, of course) as its dinner. With how deliberately it seemed that the vehicle was unable to function, you wonder what actually occurred during the night.

Never once in your life could you have ever considered fixing a motorcycle to be quite a fun process. And never could you have considered being covered in motor oil to be something so intimate, the inside jokes and coquettish comments from Jill adding to the romance, too.

Absorbed in patching up the complex structure of the fuel system, you don't realize how the hem of your sweater falls from your shoulder. Jill notices, however — oh, how she notices. If you hadn't been so engrossed in the activity your hands were occupied with, you'd see how her eyes latch to your naked skin and the way her mouth waters at the sight.

"Done!" Reaching your hand over, your sleeve treads lower when you set the pliers down upon the rusted tray beside you, exposing even more of your skin. You subconsciously pull the garment to shield your shoulder from the gusts of wind permeating the room (or the hungry eyes that crave to see everything torn from your body).

With a lack of knowledge about motorcycles in general, considering you have never been on one in your life, you make a quirky remark about "testing the new ride!" and sit down on the leather-threaded seat. Though, you sit entirely backward on the vehicle without a spark of false nature in your expression. Do you really think that's how you're supposed to ride a motorcycle? God, just when Jill thought you couldn't get even more adorable, you draw a new line in the sand.

“You tryna' turn me on?" Her voice drops to a low husk, a tone she has never presented but has always been reserved for you, anyway.

"What?" You furrow your brows and quirk your head like a puppy dog. And the sight does not aid the mayhem within the pit of her stomach.

She stands from the rolling stool and slowly treads to the back of the motorcycle, now standing right in front of you. The way you look up at her makes her absolutely exasperated with desire.

"'Too damn good at getting my attention. 'Got me all wrapped around that lil' finger of yours, huh?”

"I... I don't know what you're talking about...?"

"Really now? Sittin' reverse cowgirl and you expect me to not want to tear you apart?"

You flush in response to her insinuations, babbling jumbled nonsense in an attempt to explain your honest mistake. Jill leans closer to you, mere inches of space between you now. Resting her hand against the seat to support her weight, the other toys with the hem of that damned shirt in the way of what she wants most. She can practically feel the warmth radiating off your cheeks, and God, does it make her feral.

The expanse between you two hastens with less and less room, to where you lean backward in response. It isn't until you are entirely draped among the bike does she finally halt and hovers over you, practically bathing in how you blush from the intimacy.

"... Jill...?" You exhale breathlessly, your flustered state adding fuel to the fiery state of her inflated ego.

Despite the fantasies she's had of this moment, the scene she constructed won't be brought to light today. All the teasing, toying, and images where she'd force you to beg for her touch — she has dirtied her brain in the most pleasurable way possible. But, she's far too greedy; way too impatient. There is no possible reality in which she could restrain herself at this moment unless she was somehow physically tied down. Still, she'd find a way to wrangle herself out of any barrier if it meant you'd be lying beneath her like this. So inviting, gorgeous, and ready for her.

The kiss she pulls you into is suffocating.

The fervent, honeyed look trapped in your eyes, how could you expect her to resist? To control herself? Jill indulges herself in the taste of you and places a gentle hand against your waist. Despite being stuck in a cloud of dizzying enrapturement, she is still wary of pushing your boundaries.

Always so eager, however, mere seconds have gone by before Jill converts the intimate kiss to practically shoving her tongue down your throat. She lathes the appendage over the grooves of your teeth, the plush surface of your delectable tongue, and just everywhere she can possibly reach. Almost as if she were a dog, she's lapping every bit of you she can garner from your mouth.

You're dazed with lust, as well. Every little whimper for more is muffled against her greedy mouth but still succeeds in pushing Jill further into a sort of monster-like ravaging. What finally drives her over the edge of becoming an absolute beast is when you grasp hold of her free hand and guide it under your shirt, gasping when her frigid fingers make contact with your nipple.

She doesn't acknowledge how your desire looks like a mere breadcrumb in comparison to her own colossal need for you. Jill is too caught up in reveling in your reciprocation and her own burning hunger to pay the thought any mind.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, she parts from your mouth, a string of saliva connecting you to one another.

You're not given a moment to catch your breath, not when a sudden gasp escapes your mouth as Jill begins to tear your clothes from your form. You're gasping her name, using your limbs to shield your naked skin while she continues to rapidly undress you. Every single part of you is now on display for Jill to watch and indulge in. Before you can express your shock at the fucking animal she has abruptly become, she locks a hand around your jaw and forces your gaze on her.

"Open." The authority in her tone doesn't grant you a second to even consider disobeying her. Without words, it is clear as day that Jill Valentine is the one in control.

Letting your tongue loll out of your mouth, you await her next actions with anticipation. She spits a glob of saliva onto the muscle and her supercilious laughter fans against your face. How precious it is the way your eyes perceptibly glisten from her actions. A sharp demand of "swallow" and you obey once more, never ridding her of the intense eye contact she has trapped you in.

Her index and middle finger prod at the flesh of your lips, where you eagerly invite them into your mouth. She sighs out a curse at the feeling of your tongue wrapping itself around her fingers and how you slurp the digits like a goddamn popsicle.

"Dirty fuckin' thing, aren't you?" Jill's fingers delve deeper, losing herself in the way you gag around her and whine out a muffled "mm-hmm!" as a reply.

Pulling her fingers from your mouth with an animated pop!, Jill's eyes never leave the ocean of passion in your eyes as she treads her hand lower.

With teasing efforts that her greedy self doesn't indulge in for too long, her fingers soon nudge against your sex. The contact causes a gasp to flee from your mouth. Circling around your entrance, you're only able to squeeze in several pleas for more before she's forcefully shoving her fingers inside of you.

While you throw your head back with a sharp moan, Jill's jaw drops as she realizes how she is finally able to feel every sliver of you. Inside and out. The spongy expanse of your walls; the silk of your essence mixing with the saliva you left upon her fingers. The garage is painted in the lewd sounds of your whimpers and the squelching induced by her fingers. Everything is perfect.

“Jesus Christ, baby... I could fuck you like this for days.” Her voice causes you to squeeze around her as if you were trying to physically cling to the mind-numbing sensations she's giving you.

Within seconds, Jill finds your sweet spot and begins to torture the love-button. Her calloused digits penetrate deep against it and the stimulation shifts your moans up an octave. With a "yeah? feelin' good?", you can only nod and succumb to the sounds that fall from your mouth.

With how paradisiacal the vehemence her fingers bring, you aren't able to ponder over how this woman is able to magically know your every weak spot, every sensitive bud, and the exact rhythms you prefer without ever informing her. Almost as if she's seen you do the same to yourself.

Soon, however, the heat becomes too much for you to handle and you begin to squirm in her grasp. Even when you whine pathetically about how it's too much, Jill doesn't falter her efforts in the slightest.

"Can't stop, baby... 'Clenching 'round me too tight, got me stuck in here." Her condescending tone and sultry smirk make you cry out in heavenly misery. God, it's only two lanky fingers and you feel more stuffed than a Thanksgiving turkey.

Her digits soon accelerate in speed, your body jolting from the force and legs beginning to quiver. A fire pervades in your core with how forcefully she massages your sweet spot and you let out pornographic "ah!"'s with every thrust she forces into you. The smirk on her face vanishes when you bring your forearm to your mouth in an attempt to muffle the unruly noises tumbling out. She swats your arms away, never ceasing her endeavors to bring you the most Earth-shattering pleasure you could ever know.

"Car-Carlos... He'll hear..." You manage to squeak out. And the sudden shift in her expression makes a surge of fear course through you.

"Carlos? 'Fuck you thinking bout' him for?"

Roughly, Jill pulls one leg of yours to your chest and is able to drive her fingers in deeper. You didn't even think it was possible, hence the shock and sucker-punched look on your face. She sharply reminds you of how it is only you and her together. Not in an attempt to comfort, but to emphasize the territory she has marked. And you can barely hear her possessive tangent through the sound of your own heart racing and the wet, sucking sound of your walls latching onto her. The mewls escaping your mouth have increased in volume and intensity, Carlos now nothing but a distant memory in your foggy brain.

"Y'know I once caught him sniffing your sweater like some sort of depraved junkie? Hand stuffed in his pants like a fuckin' pervert?" You can barely hear the woman speak, not when she's simultaneously turning you into nothing but a pile of mush.

“Bet he’s biting his damn fists thinking about me fuckin' you like this. 'Crying like a bitch knowing you're getting the best fuck of your life out here.” Once again, you're too dumb with pleasure to remind Jill you are also biting your fists and crying fat tears, but for different reasons than the vision she painted of Carlos.

“All mine, all fuckin' mine, baby. No one can fuck you like me, no one...” Her free hand finds its way to your nipple. The pulling and tugging earn her a loud cry from your throat that she practically revels in.

That familiar, but now incredibly stifling and heart-stopping, pool of heat begins to build in your tummy. With a slack jaw and incoherent ramblings, you attempt to find your voice and express the inevitable incoming through your incessant wailing.

"Jill, I-... I'm gonna- Fuck- I'm gonna...!" Jill quirks a brow in response.

"Gonna cum, baby? Hmm?" She exhaled with a quick chuckle, fully splitting you open with her fingers at this point. "All your fault, all your fault for being this fuckin' pretty. Can't fuckin' resist.”

“No, I-... I can’t help it when your fingers are just- just fucking stretching me out.” You throw your head back once more. The way the motorcycle juts uncomfortably at your skull fails to overpower the sheer fervor you're feeling.

Jill merely laughs in response. “Yeah? 'Gonna get all messy on my fingers? Get your fuckin' cum all over my bike?” The heat within you builds and builds until it becomes suffocating for your sweaty body to contain.

"C'mon, pretty thing. Cum f'me..."

With that, the damn breaks and it's as if you had released an entire tsunami the way you spurt around Jill.

Her mouth latches to yours during your peak, tongues mashing against one another. Chest pressed against yours, all your senses know are Jill, Jill, Jill. It is practically agonizing, how gut-wrenchingly pleasurable the orgasm is.

And Jill, all she can do is coo, tease, and watch in absolute wonder at how perfect this was. How perfect you are. When your peak is finally pacified into calm waves, your body goes limp against the bike and your essense leaks onto the clean leather. The entire room seems to melt away while you're brain is still scrambling to garner any brain cells Jill had managed to fuck out of you.

She removes her fingers from your heavenly heat and just stares at the way your slick paints her digits. Standing, Jill uses her heel to kick the rolling stool behind her. Her slender figure is finally able to rest as she sits down, heavy gaze still locked on the captivating sight of you all over her fingers. She brings them to her lips, eyes watering when she is able to catch a whiff, but stops herself before they can reach past and show her tongue what heaven is.

An idea, albeit a bad one (something Jill is notorious for), sprouts in her mind. The part of your body she has so kindly destroyed is sitting right before her, like a grand meal crafted by the most talented chef, just for her. Surely, a meal better than anything Carlos has ever made (which she knows he would certainly agree with, but she digresses).

With a kick to the cement floor, the stool slides across the room. Hastily grabbing a few random cable ties, Jill then swerves back to you. A gentle hand on your cheek, she presses yet another kiss to your whimpering mouth. It is soft and sweet, but it is easy to notice the dominating tendencies that lie beneath the surface. You reciprocate the affections, albeit clumsily, due to your dazed state.

While your tongues practically cuddle with one another, adorning the other in heaps of saliva, you can barely feel how Jill grasps hold of your wrist. She then presses it against the motorcycle handlebar. With her mouth latched to yours like a leech, she uses the cable tie to restrain your wrist to the handle. The other wrist is tied to the adjacent bar swiftly, to where you are now entirely restrained to the bike.

What she plans to do will be far too much for your exhausted body to handle. So, she must ensure that you stay pliant and accept even more heaps of the torturous zeal she intends for you to endure.

Fortunately, you don't seem to mind one bit. Your poor brain still hasn't processed that you will soon go through that same overwhelming, almost-painful pleasure once more. Scooting closer to you, Jill's heavy breaths fan against your sex and earns her a faint gasp from the light stimulation. Mere inches away, the scent of you floods her senses and further envelops her into whatever magic spell you put her under.

Six years. Six whole years.

Through the depraved loneliness of being without the one she loves most, there was always a curious desire that prodded at her brain.

How would you take her? Would you like it rough and intense or soft and tender? What sounds would you make? Would you be shamelessly loud or try to restrain your cute whines? How much stamina would you have? Could she make you weak with mere minutes of intimate contact or would you challenge her to hours of bringing you venereal satisfaction?

The mere idea always sends her hands downstairs, vowing that she'll find you and make you feel even half the sheer euphoria you gift her. And as if the heavens had heard her prayers, despite her irreverent mentality, you have finally returned to her.

With that, Jill lets her jaw drop and tongue fall. Greedily, yet savorly, she drags the muscle from the bottom of your sex to the top.

And the ecstatic delirium that floods her body rivals any drug she could ever pump into her system.

You yank against your restraints and cry from the sudden sensation, her hot breath against your most sensitive parts only adding to the overstimulation. A pleasured groan absconds from Jill's muffled mouth. She has teased this idea numerous times, but the fantasies she's had where she wondered how your essence would sit on her tongue, none of it compared to the real thing.

Better than the most arduous whiskey, better than the ripest fruits, better than water after an eternity spent in a desert. She'd give anything to spend the rest of her life down here.

"Jesus- fuck, baby." Her curses are muted due to the close contact, but with a licentious squelch, she casts her gaze to your face. "If I was on death row, I'd choose this as my last meal... Oh, I'd die a fuckin' saint."

The lewd noises and dirty talk only make you flush more. With your arms restrained, there's no shyly covering your face or hushing your salacious noises. You are entirely vulnerable to whatever Jill intends to put you through.

And as quick as she pulled back to express the thoughts running through her mind, she dives right back into you. There's no gradual descent, no build-up. Just an unadulterated, hungered frenzy that Jill takes out on your poor body. Every devouring suckle has your legs squirming, which she is able to hold down with ease. Nothing can prevent Jill from indulging in the absolute nirvana leaking out of you. Nothing.

Slurping and sucking like a goddamn vampire, you whimper about how the pleasure is too much for you to handle. A hushed chuckle escapes from Jill and reverberates through your entire body, the appending commotion sending a warm tremble down your spine. She could never stop so soon, not with your candied flavor and gorgeous sounds enveloping her like a soft embrace.

Jill was never one to simply flick her tongue, either. No, she was insistent on having your juices explore every inch of her mouth, no matter if it strained her jaw or numbed her tongue. God, this woman was practically drunk on you.

“Could never be done with this pretty body, baby. Never.” Everything you are now experiencing has your brain blanking, entirely unable to process any of her words.

Even when you try to put on your best puppy-dog eyes, as it always makes her weak, she refused to abandon her desires. Your relentless pleas for mercy simply fall on deaf ears. Through all her snarky comments and cocky remarks, it's almost comical how the only way to shut her up was for you to just let her put her mouth all over you.

And everything is just so lewd, so sloppy, so rough. Crescent-moon shapes are carved into your thighs as she pins them down, allowing her greedy mouth further access. Satisfied groans escape from Jill as she just revels in how good it is to be smothered in the absolute love potion pouring into her mouth. Bony hands cling to your hips as she rolls you in a rushed rhythm, needily grinding you against her mouth. Lapping at you like a goddamn slushie, all you can do is lay back and accept the relentless torture. And God, it drives you fucking insane.

You don't even recognize yourself anymore; you've become reminiscent of a famous pornstar the way slobber leaks down your chin and how your moans bounce off the walls. And Jill is just drinking in this sight. She hopes that if she stares long enough, this image will forever be burned into her memory and imprinted behind her eyelids. An eternal porno crafted just for her.

With another flare of heat building, one far more intense than ever before, you truly begin to lose yourself in the whirlpool of soul-crushing pleasure. And every suck and churn of her tongue has your back arching uncontrollably, pushing you further and further to that edge.

Everything intensifies and before you can whimper out a warning, the mob within you releases and you practically gush onto Jill's face.

You cut off her animalistic grunts with the loudest sound you're positive you have ever made. Not even the screams of terror you let out back in Raccoon City could compare to the sheer volume that escapes your throat at this moment. Your entire body is enveloped in violent shivers, to where Jill has to cling to you to prevent the shocks from sending you to the ground. Her covetous tongue guzzles every last drop of you.

It isn't until she hears a cry framed with more pain than pleasure does she finally snap from her libido-filled daze. This doesn't prevent her from indulging in one last obnoxious slurp before finally parting from the best meal she has ever had.

From the jacket she had thrown indolently against the table, Jill reaches over and pulls out her rusted pocket knife. She scoots closer to your face, heart lurching when she sees the tears painting your cheeks. She wipes them clean with her thumb and presses a languid kiss to your sweat-ridden forehead.

Swiftly, Jill cuts the ties around your wrist while remaining ever-so careful to prevent harming your precious skin. Now free, you let out a feeble whimper and grasp hold of her shoulders, outright begging for her care. And Jill practically melts into a puddle at the sight. She encases her constricting arms around your waist and relishes in the way your wrap your arms firmly around her. God, you make her so fucking weak.

You never need to ask her for affection. She would give you absolutely anything.

"Sweet butterfly, you did so fuckin' good. 'Came so hard f'me."

You wrap your naked legs around Jill's form as a means to get even closer to her. In response, she has to keep the sudden flare of desire derived from the action at bay. She's put you through enough, after all. Someone as drop-dead gorgeous as you, anyone in their right mind would plead with the universe to feel those beautiful legs wrapped around them. However, she can't indulge in the fantasies that consisted of you latching onto her like this. Oh, another day. Another day...

When your brain is able to clear through all the dissipated fog, you find yourself in the bathroom with the woman who brought you pleasure you didn't know existed. Stifling water pours down your body, and you are locked in Jill's nude embrace.

Taking a shower with her — this was nothing out of the ordinary. For the five months you have spent here, she has always insisted on washing you with a myriad of excuses. From wishing to show you a new body wash to insisting you were too ill to do it by yourself, cleaning yourself alone is a privilege you haven't known in ages.

The scent of your favorite body wash now sits on your wet skin. Her calloused fingers massage the ambrosial suds into your body and you swear you could fall asleep from the peaceful rhythm. Pampering you, despite your assurances of how you can take care of yourself, is something she has always loved to do. With how easy it is to send you into a state of tranquility, it never fails to make her laugh. Like a sleepy puppy, she jokes to herself.

Ever so greedily, Jill grasps your jaw tenderly and ushers you to meet her gaze.

“C'mon, give me a kiss, baby. Taste how good I made you feel.”

In response, you make weary endeavors to place your lips against her chapped ones. She hums, how cute.

Taking the full initiative of effort, Jill moans as she molds her mouth against yours once again. Her tongue slithers in, allowing you to bask in the flavor she has developed a newfound addiction to. The act of affection is quick, considering how the heat of your nude body and your mouth against hers may push Jill into numbing your mind with pleasure, once more.

From here, she lets you rest your head against her shoulder and your tired body against her form. She continues to massage the fruit-scented soap into your skin, indulging in the satisfied hums she earns when she massages certain knots out of your muscles.

"Y'know, Carlos had a fuckin' field day when I took you back into the house. 'Thought I was murdering you in there, heh." You've been steered into such a meditative state, your exhausted brain fails to process any of Jill's words.

"It's a fuckin' miracle he let me be alone with you right now. 'Had to threaten him with telling you what I caught him doing with your sweater. Fuckin' idiot was so scared, he doesn't even know I already told you."

She presses an abiding kiss to your head before continuing.

"Do you remember, baby? Or were you too fucked out to use your head...? Kinda hard to listen to me when I'm fuckin' your brains out, huh?"

Other than being between your thighs, Jill could spend forever here.

Nights spent trying out facemasks with ridiculous scents, drawing hearts and your initials on the steamed shower walls, and the adoring giggle you give her when she lets you use her hair and face to make soap mohawks or soap beards. There is nothing in the universe that could equate to the ineluctable love Jill has for you. Absolutely nothing.

As every night goes, she massages fragranced lotions into your flesh and dresses you in cloud-soft pajama bottoms. This time, however, she reluctantly wraps one of Carlos' shirts around your form as compensation on his end for what she put you through.

Speaking of the devil, her fingers merely hover over the lock on the bathroom door and he is already trying to force his way in. With a hushed yell of "They're sleeping, can you chill the fuck out!?" Carlos is barrelling into the room, shoving past Jill, and rushing to where your unconscious body is resting on the bathroom counter.

In an instant, his always-gentle hands are on your body, checking for injuries, and faintly whimpers out "My baby" and "What did she do to you?" Jill rolls her eyes and scoffs at how dramatic he is. She would never hurt you, he should know that by now.

Carlos then brings you into his arms as if he were cradling a baby bird, carrying you out of the ensuite and to the lavish sheets of his bed. Two sets of glares at each other, as if they were teenage girls fighting for the heart of the dashing quarterback, and Jill begrudgingly leaves the bedroom.

Locking the door behind her, Carlos wastes no time in climbing beneath the expensive covers and enveloping you in an embrace. The anger poking at his sanity is eased from the warm weight of your body as he snuggles into you. You've always had a knack for mending even the worst parts of him, after all. Still, the rage provoked by what that monster put his precious bumblebee through simmers beneath the surface.

"I should have stopped it. I should have been there..." Carlos places a hand against your chest, searching for the sound that he is wholly convinced can mend any and all turmoil. "But, she would have taken you from me if I stopped her... I'm so sorry, my bumblebee..." The familiar ba-bump! beneath your flesh rivals a genuine lullaby.

Hours passed, and your heartbeat soothes Carlos into a deep slumber. Those protective arms never once weaken from around your body.

Moonlight now paints the bedroom and frames your face; Jill thinks you were painted by Da Vinci himself as she admires you in your unconscious state. The way you so frivolously make her heart grow without lifting a finger should be considered a crime. Though, the sight of you in handcuffs may convince her to give you a lighter sentence. Several gentle nudges to your arm and your eyes flutter open. A finger is pressed to your lips when you try and inquire about her intentions.

"Wanna get outta here?" The prospect of being out of this prison cell makes a smile grow on your lips. Slowly, you remove the constricting arms of Carlos from around your waist and escape the warm expanse of blankets.

Tip-toeing through the home, hushed giggles fill the silent air as you and Jill finally arrive at the garage. Another idea, albeit a bad one (once again, something she is notorious for), had sprouted in her mind. A quick ride on her new-and-improved motorcycle and you'll be back before Carlos even notices you're gone, she assures you. To let you momentarily venture away from this humble abode like a bratty child whose time-out has ended was all you truly wanted.

She has her signature battered jeans on with her biker jacket. Meanwhile, you're stood with your fluffy pajama bottoms, t-shirt beneath a chunky sweater (since Carlos insisted you'd get cold during the night), and bumblebee slippers. The teddy-bear necklace he gifted you is adorned around your neck, as well. You always feel a strange familiarity when you catch sight of the bumblebee necklace he is never seen without. Where have you seen it before?

You'd feel like a loser in her presence if it weren't for those damned heart eyes she's giving you. Jill loves you. So, so much. Even through everything that has happened in these few months, that much is for certain.

"C'mon, wasn't it you who said you wanted to test out the new ride? Or do you not remember that, either?" She taps the seat behind her as a gesture for you to join her.

You fumble to catch the spare helmet she chucks your way and copy how she fastens hers around her head. If you had learned anything that day, motorcycle logic is something you are certainly not familiar with.

Before you are able to sit in the exact spot you had lost all rational thought in just hours ago, Jill halts your actions. She stands to her feet and begins to scrutinize the state of your helmet, all to ensure everything is secure and protecting that pretty face of yours. Despite her reckless nature, anything that could jeopardize your safety has alarms blaring all throughout her thoughts. Still, you deserve to partake in the adrenaline-inducing excitement only she can bring.

Propping down onto the seat (correctly, this time), your arms hover around Jill's waist in an awkward attempt to respect boundaries. Impatient and needy as ever, she revs the engine and the sudden, thunderous roar has you clinging to her body in startlement. The sound will surely wake Carlos, despite his deep-sleeping nature. Swiftly, before the angered grizzly bear can storm out and drag you back to safety, Jill hastens down the long driveway surrounded by empty forestry.

Making a mental note of any potential landmarks was fruitless. There is absolutely nothing that could verify where on planet Earth you were right now. Through the grapevine, or just the instances you've eavesdropped on Jill and Carlos' arguments, this home you've resided in was apparently in Spain. Where exactly in Spain do the three of you live, you haven't a clue. Any inquiries you have expressed have been neglected.

She then accelerates her speed in a teasing manner just to feel you cling harder to her, knocking the thoughts from your brain. With the few vehicles that have passed by you both, you still make effort to scrutinize their identity. All attempts were jeopardized by Jill who sped past them. As a last resort, you had considered jumping from the bike and making an abrupt dash into the woods. However, with broken bones and no ears to listen to your cries for help, that plan was abandoned as quickly as it was formed.

At least the sex is good, you shamefully muse to yourself.

It had only been a mere 20 minutes before you returned to the dirt roads leading to your "humble" abode. From the garage, you see how the golden kitchen light glimmers through the windows and you mentally prepare yourself for the hurricane swarming your way.

With how engrossed you were with your mind, you haven't processed how Carlos will react to you being out of his train of vision for more than several seconds.

Jill's boot knocks the kickstand into place, seemingly reveling in her last few moments before you'd inevitably be snatched away from her. Despite how malleable Carlos was with a few empty threats regarding you, she knows that she crossed a line and nothing will make him bend. Still, she has no regrets whatsoever. Any moment with you is absolute paradise, no matter what consequences may follow afterward.

As if you were two teenagers who snuck out past curfew, you both walk through the front door with your tails between your legs. When you had fully expected Carlos to sprint over to you, the entire opposite happens. Upon your sudden entrance, all he does is sit at the kitchen island, staring blankly into the empty counter. The clutching of his fists, the bulge above his brow, the strain of his clenched jaw — all the telltale signs show that he is absolutely enraged. And the sheer aura of his fury is enough to make you capitulate into the corner.

An arrogant remark sits right on the edge of Jill's lips, but with a wave of your hand, you stop and assure her of how you can handle whatever tantrum is imminent. Approaching slowly, as if Carlos were a feral animal ready to maul anything that moves, you tread behind the island and halt straight across from him.

"I... I wore a helmet...?" You cringe at your own attempt at reassurance.

Face sheen with enmity, Carlos merely turns his head gradually and shifts his full attention to Jill. For the very first time in five months, your presence is ignored. It is almost as if you aren't even there.

You go on a clumsy tangent about how the entire stunt was not devoid of any safety precautions. Still, Carlos' full attention remains on Jill, who stands complacent as she practically revels in his dismay. Day after day, she has always won against him. Twisting his words, pulling his strings, declaring empty threats — he yields to her time after time. How terrified he is of the capability she has to destroy what little piece of you he has.

At this moment, however, this wrath within him has boiled over like a soup left behind on a burning stove. And the way he now looks at her is terrifying. If she goes missing before dawn, you won't be surprised.

In an attempt to save you from your awkward (albeit too-fucking adorable) rambling, Jill opens her mouth to deliver an eloquent explanation. She is able to verbalize a mere syllable before Carlos slams his fist into the countertop, the surface cracking beneath the force of his strength. You cower away from the sudden shift in his energy, which he fails to notice.

Standing abruptly, he charges at Jill in three large strides. Winding his arm back, he surges his fist forward and strikes her in the nose. She grunts, stumbling in her stance from the contact. The room is overwhelmed by silence, accompanied by two sets of panting breaths. Jill spits out a large web of blood onto the hardwood floors and without flinching, she forces her nose back into place with a gut-wrenching crack.

Entirely flabbergasted, you merely stand like a dumbfounded fool while you watch the following events play out.

"That's all 'ya got, pussy? C'mon, man. Hit me!" A smile painted with blood stretches on her face and Carlos ignites with rage. He wants her fucking dead.

Another strike lands on her face once more, to where she slumps to her knees when her legs fail her. Quirking her head, she looks up to Carlos with that annoyingly-smug smirk. Coughing out a bitter chuckle, Jill can't refrain from expressing how hilarious she finds Carlos' pathetic attempt at taking you from her. The way he stands before her, so overwhelmed with farcical rage. How can expect her not to burst out laughing from the pitiful sight?

And without words, the tense gaze they share with one another expresses the same declaration. No matter how much blood is spilled, you can't take them away from me. Using the wall for stability, Jill is able to lift herself from the ground, sharp eyes still attached to Carlos' glower.

"You want a fucking piece of me!? I'll kill you right now, pack my shit, and then take Y/N somewhere you won't ever hurt them again!" The second the words fall from his mouth, that familiar, pompous expression plastered on Jill's face suffers from an abrupt shift.

The sheer audacity this man has to feel entitled to you baffles her. Especially after such undeserving kindness she has shown him. Informing him of your location in Umbrella's sanctuary, the mere act of allowing him in your presence was far more than he could ever deserve. Every day of the past six years had been spent tearing her soul to indistinguishable shreds before sculpting every piece back. And like Hell, she'd let this underdog rid her of the most important thing in her life.

A gasp is precipitously torn from you when Jill withdraws her pocket knife from her leather jacket. With a swift stab and a loud roar, Carlos manages to block her efforts. Still, he remained one second too late when she managed to slice into his arm. He squalls from the harrowing contact but is swift in his recovery.

Despite the blood rushing down his forearm, he surges another punch toward her face. Jill is able to dodge his angry fist, dropping her beloved knife, before launching a brutal blow to his jaw. The force sends Carlos tumbling to the ground with a harsh clamor. After several years of heavy lifting to relieve stress, Jill has built quite a lot of strength. Carlos, as well, but the sheer rage she now possesses could combat even the strongest of brutes.

She punts the knife across the floor and away from his reaching grasp, hereby declaring to send this man to his demise with her bare hands. Straddling him, he has no time to defend himself when she begins to send punch after punch wherever her fists can land.

"Try that shit and I'll gut you like a fuckin' fish!" Jill's newfound tone is reminiscent of an actual monster. The tone has you shuddering in your stance as you can only stare in sheer dread.

The sight of splattered blood and blooming bruises causes nausea to squirm in your stomach like an unwelcome insect. All the words and pleas you wish to scream out are seemingly trapped in the expanse of your throat. Trying to physically separate the two rabid animals may cause you to be harmed in the crossfire. You fear what infantilizing, guilt-ridden treatment you may receive upon that probability. Instead, in a quick flare of rationality, you conjure up an idea you are positive will end this sudden explosion of violence. An idea you know will make them weak.

Without a second thought, the words are spilling from your mouth in a desperate shout.

"I'M LEAVING!"

Voice cracking and laced with awkward nerves, your sudden uproar still succeeds in capturing both of their attention. And the alter in their behavior is so abrupt, it is almost as if they weren't ever at each other's throats. In seconds, they're scrambling to their feet and rushing to your aid, the bloodied knife and fallout of savagery now nonexistent.

"You've seen there's nothing out there for miles, you'd be chow for the wolves!" Jill's voice has returned to the familiar tone she has claimed for you.

Eyes now shimmering with the desperate softness you're so amicable with, it is bewildering how swift these two are to team up when they need it the most.

"Not much different than what's in here..."

If it was audible, the sound of their hearts shattering would burst your eardrums from the sheer mass. Carlos' reaction is overtly emotional, as he always is. Jill perceptibly abates from your words, the sudden sorrow enveloping her expression a shock to you. That collected nature she always acquires crumbles right before your very eyes.

Before she can cling to you and vow to give you whatever it is you want, as long as you stay, Carlos falls to his knees and grasps your full attention. With his head against the floor and his hands clinging to your legs, he proceeds to grovel for you. Warm tears cascade onto your feet and you discern how the raging storm has finally eased. All that is left now is the sound of Carlos' raucous crying and Jill's stressed suspires.

Casting his gaze upwards, Carlos' face is twisted from the sobs jutting out of his body. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so, so, so, so, sorry. Hit me, stab me, skin me, do anything! Just... Just don't leave me...”

A gentle hand to your forearm and Jill is whispering of how it's time for you to go to bed. You clench your teeth, ready to inquire if she was genuinely serious. However, the notable guilt in her manner informs you of the actual demand she asks of you. Please, end this. It is only you who can calm us.

From this revelation, you oblige by her orders and begin to stride away from this mess. To feel you move from his tenacious touch, further away from him, Carlos suddenly springs to his feet. He envelops you with his full body weight, another whimper of "don't leave me" whispered into your neck. Never weakening his grasp, you guide him out of the kitchen and you both amble together to Carlos' bedroom. Meanwhile, Jill plants her head in her bruised hands, a sigh of defeat escaping her from how disastrous she has let this day become.

Tonight, Carlos sought any inkling of solace you have. Anything to promise him you are still here with him.

Attempting to flick off the lamplight, your efforts were futile when he practically chucks you into the comforters. Despite his aggression to keep you close (and away from that barbarian), he holds you as if he were handling glass. As he always does.

With a heavy-set preference, he adores sleeping in any position that grants him the privilege of listening to your heartbeat and inhaling your wondrous scent. The combining senses serve as an enlightening reminder that you are alive and here with him. This night was certainly no different, as Carlos clambers into bed with you, albeit clumsily due to his large figure. He then nuzzles his head between the expanse of your shoulder and neck comfortably.

The human-weighted blanket resting on top of you mollifies your exhausted body. Carlos has an earthy scent, like Summer air and fresh grass right after a rainstorm. It soothes you into dreamland and this fact fills you with shame, as well. This sudden contrast in your life doesn't fog your judgment entirely, though. With every day the rain falls, you have come to learn several new things.

Oh, how Carlos Oliveira loves the scent of Y/N L/N.

It is evident throughout every day, where fragments of his obsession are sprinkled into every moment you spend together.

Taking a deep inhale, the serenity that courses through his bones causes his eyes to roll back into his skull. How absolutely serene it is to feel your fingers combing through his thick hair, arms adorned around his brawny figure, and tender lips pressed to his forehead. His cries, now reduced to soft whimpers, tickle against your skin.

No matter the circumstances, being enveloped in your embrace as the day comes to an end will always make his heart swell. To climb into bed and find the most beautiful, breathtaking sight at the edge of his fingertips — there is no bliss quite like it.

The aroma that sent him to heaven six years ago, how he had searched high and low for anything reminiscent of it. A multitude of soaps, air fresheners, perfumes, laundry detergent, and just anything that contained a similar scent to you encircled his home. Despairingly, he has tried to recreate this and pretended it was your fragrance pervading from your warm, lively body. Nevertheless, his efforts were futile.

The scent you possessed was evocatively ambrosial, but it was utterly human. It was so unique, he felt like a fool for believing something as mere as a lit candle or a stick of deodorant could ever replicate that perfection.

At this moment, however, Carlos inhales your scent from your body as if he couldn't breathe. And he is positive there is nothing in the world that could rival the sheer euphoria it gives him. Within minutes, the man using you as his personal mattress begins to snore like a lawn mower. Soon, you fall asleep within his tenacious embrace, as well.

Once morning draws and you blink into consciousness, you find yourself entirely by your lonesome. No clinging Carlos, no amorous Jill. Just sheer, unadulterated solitude. You hadn't realized how familiar the prospect of waking up with company had become, especially after years of early-morning seclusion. The rain still falls; the birds still sing. And for the first time in months, you are alone.

This revelation is short-lived when the man who had clung to you for the entire night soon enters the bedroom. The wound on his arm has since been tended to, the bruises left behind are now affixed to his skin, and his face is puffy from the tears that cascaded just hours before. Through all of this, an almost-manic smile is planted on his face. All as if nothing had ever happened.

A delectable scent follows his presence when he brings a serving cart into the room. On the cart, he had perfected a myriad of dishes for you to enjoy. A stack of French toast, a steaming frittata, scattering scones, multiple parfaits, and numerous other gourmet dishes you can't even dream of pronouncing the names of. All of this for three people, you fear that Carlos will make you devour every last crumb and the ongoing effects it will have on your poor stomach. The way he normally does to ensure you aren't left hungry, as every morning consisted of something along these themes.

In this case, however, the belligerent display of affection and the lingering shadow of last night's events differ immensely from what you had adapted to.

Gleefully, Carlos sits at the edge of the bed beside you and drapes a bed tray upon your lap. A mug painted in your favorite color is full of tea and sits on an neighboring coaster, while he sits and waits anxiously for you to pick your first dish of the day.

When you notice the single set of cutlery, reserved for just you and him to share, you furrow your brows. Where is Jill's set? And why hasn't she prevented him from cooking such an obnoxious amount of food?

Carlos' body goes rigid the instant you speak her name. With an alarmingly flat tone, he claims that she is gone for "work purposes," and despite your hesitance to believe him, he speaks of nothing but the truth.

After such a vicious outburst, Jill had humbly concluded that her relentless torture against Carlos must falter. Not for his sake, but for yours. Now, she will gift him a single day (nothing more) to entirely immerse himself in your healing presence, the same way a child needs to snuggle their teddy bear after a nightmare. While she is away, however, you and your well-being are stamped in her mind and prevent her from completing any work. It makes her sick with worry.

The event affected all three of you, physically and mentally. The several seconds spent with Carlos informed you entirely of his current state, but Jill remained a mystery.

And when Carlos had first entered the bedroom, the sight of your bleary eyes and drooping eye bags almost made him burst into tears right then and there. Unfortunately, he had broken down several times during his tireless efforts to make you an entire buffet for breakfast. However, with what little strength he was able to muster, Carlos is able to dry his tears in your presence. Still, he cannot ponder how you may have feared him in that moment or he might just collapse into a mental breakdown on the floor.

His hands, slower and softer than ever before, find their way to your face. Cupping your cheeks, you find a tornado of swirling emotions within his eyes. Devastation, regret, devotion, guilt, obsession. It is bewildering and terrifying in the same vein.

"You know, last night, I..." The featheriness within his voice is a major contrast to the infuriated uproar you witnessed last night. "I thought you were gone. For good. Still, I… I should have controlled myself. I should have stopped Jill from taking you away, I mean you could've-..."

When those all-too-familiar tears prick at his eyes and threaten to fall, you know his strength has been worn thin. "I just- I-I don't know what I would do if you-"

Carlos cuts himself off with a cracked sob. A wobbly "I'm sorry" is whispered before he excuses himself and abruptly leaves the bedroom. The sounds of his unruly sobs follow him in his footsteps.

After such an intense evening, the consequences of the aftermath haven't truly settled in for you until this moment. Enveloped in silence, you ponder over how one sentence of yours had led to such a disastrous outcome. You contemplate how you had merely met these two in a random city and set them on a lifelong quest to make you forever theirs. At this moment, you question just how much you are capable of.

Plucking a random plate from the tray, you grasp hold of the cutlery and dig into the succulent dish. You eat alone for the first time in five months. You don't know what you have done, but you know you have to clean this mess. Might as well have some fun before it depreciates...

Caring for you, it is certainly no secret how much Carlos enjoys the act. With every assurance you are not some impotent child, all efforts fall on deaf ears. Though, you realize you may be able to mold this to your benefit.

Tending to your every need, it is not done out of upholding a burden. You can take care of yourself, but you do not have to. The look of gratitude you give Carlos when you thank him is reward enough.

This leaves him in Jill's ensuite bathroom, where a hamper overwhelmed with dirty clothes resides in the corner. Being your devoted house-husband practically makes him giddy, so the sight is never onerous in the slightest. Jill, being the slob at heart, did leave a few articles of clothing on the ground, despite the hamper being mere feet away. As irritating as this was, Carlos merely decorates his brain with delusions of the two of you living alone together. This phenomenon has aided him through his efforts in enduring her presence, living in his imagination where you and he live happily ever after. Far, far away.

The sole reason Carlos was not glued to your side at this exact moment was due to how he had just put you in bed for your afternoon nap. Your insistent remarks of how you do not need to sleep in the middle of the day, once again, fall on deaf ears. You have no choice but to rest while he tends to every burden of yours; all responsibilities you possess have now become his. And he could not possibly be happier.

At first, you had stubbornly stood by your exclamation that it would be impossible for you to fall asleep. However, with closed curtains enveloping the room in darkness, peaceful incense pervading the air, soft lullabies harmonizing from speakers, and comforters that could rival lambswool snuggled around you, it didn't take long for you to succumb.

With you now fast asleep, Carlos works hastily, yet thoroughly, around the house so he can return to the love den where you lie. Rubbing circles into your back that soothe you further into sleep, it never fails to make him beam with happiness. And despite his tireless efforts, the disgusting scent of Jill reeking from her clothes protrudes into his beloved fantasy.

A sneer forms on his lips as he pinches the garments with his fingers, touching as little of them as he could, before chucking them into the hamper. The force of the launch sends the entire hamper tumbling over, to where the mess of dirty laundry scatters amongst the clean tiles. He grumbles, once again using minimum effort to collect Jill's clothing while cooing upon holding every crumbled attire that belongs to you.

As he returns the laundry to its respectful place within the hamper, Carlos gleefully grasps hold of one of your henley shirts. What lies beneath causes him to freeze, however.

Shamefully, he salivates at the sight of your underwear.

Several times, this offer has tempted him. To revel in how your essence wafts from the garb, any sane human would want to breathe in that scent forever. But he is not like others; he is stronger than them. For you, he will tie his immense cravings to a leash and restrain them, however long and tight you seem fit.

Due to recent events, however, the structured guard he built brick-by-brick has suffered numerous blows. All at the hands of Jill Valentine. There is not a place in the universe where you could be a burden to him, but her? She is the only reason why anger still makes a home within him.

Carlos needs you. He selfishly needs every last sliver of you, everything Jill had robbed him of the previous day. The self-control he prided himself on has seemingly abandoned him. Then again, how could he control himself when this opportunity has fallen from the hands of God and directly into the palm of his hands? How could he control himself when the purest form of you sits right there, practically calling out his name in the sound of your voice?

With that, he rips the bandaid off. Faster than the speed of light, he yanks your underwear into his hands and practically shoves them into his nostrils. And Carlos moans, so loud and blatant, as the fragrance of you invades every sense in his body.

Familiar, but suddenly overwhelmingly sweltering, a tightness forms within his pants. His vision goes black as his eyes roll into the back of his skull, a sudden flash of light then enveloping his eyesight; his knees resort to jelly, to where he has to cling to the edge of the bathroom counter to maintain his balance. The other hand still clenches your underwear protectively and dependently, as if he were an Art Conservator and he was holding the beautiful Mona Lisa. Oh, it is absolute heaven.

"Is that my...?"

As quick as he had practically inhaled the garment entirely, Carlos had rid his body of the pleasure induced by your scent when your dulcet voice filled the bathroom. Tossing the clothing with the others in the hamper, he pretends to lean against the counter with a rushed "what?" coming out in a quiet squeak. He stands with a hot face provoked by utter humiliation. How did he not hear the door open?

However, there is no loathing or repugnance in your expression, like he had originally anticipated. There's a look of hubris that washes over you when your brain scrutinizes just what you had stumbled upon. An unfamiliar glint sparks in your eyes that he is unable to read. It intrigues him, still.

Mere seconds feel like an agonizing eternity as he stands in the depths of his selfish libido. Instead of cursing Carlos out for his perverted nature, as he, once again, had originally anticipated, you do the very last thing he expected. Your fingers grasp the hem of your shirt before you pull the garb from off your form. And the preposterous gasp that is exuded from him in response almost forces a boisterous laugh out of you.

Your pants follow after, the soft whomp of the clothing hitting the ground remaining the loudest sound in the silent, reticent room. Lastly, you slowly strip yourself of your underwear, the very last thing protecting you from exposure. And you don't have to shift your gaze to know this man's wide eyes are glued to every inch of your naked skin.

"If you like my clothes that much, all you had to do was ask! I have so much already, take as much as you'd like..." The feigned generosity seeping from your tone does not mend the disorder within Carlos' pants.

Hooking your finger around your undergarments, you stride toward the man who is left entirely flabbergasted by your actions.

Chest-to-chest, you speak to him in a low whisper. "Wouldn't you rather have something fresh, anyways?"

You use your free hand to toy with the edge of his shirt, admiring the way his strong physique juts against the fabric. When your finger makes contact with the raw flesh of his abdomen, Carlos heaves out an uneven, stuttered breath. Almost as if he had run a marathon, your mere touch sends him tripping face-first into oblivion. The firm hand he placed upon the counter surface hastens into a desperate gasp to keep his balance, once again.

Just when Carlos had thought he had stumbled upon the gates of heaven, you purr out praises that make his eyes roll back into his head for the nth time. How strong he was when he defended your life back in Raccoon City to how he always managed to carry the groceries with one hand. Your candied words provoke a dreamy sigh out of him.

The silence on his end is bridging on the cusp of awkward. His gaze is hazy and drooping as Carlos stares into your eyes, nowhere else.

"S-Sleep..." You could hear a pin drop before you could discern his nervous tone. "You should... You-You should be sl- sleeping..."

"Alone? Or... Would you rather I sleep with you?" Another gasp flees from Carlos. His entire body breaks out into a shiver from your implications.

As much as his brain practically pleads him not to, he shifts his gaze away from you and to the boring ceiling in a weak attempt at maintaining courtesy. The single act is more difficult than any obstacle he has faced in his entire life.

As shameful as it is, however, Carlos has thought of this scene plenty of times. How he fantasized about enhancing the flavor of his food by mixing your delectable juices with the dish. How he winced listening to every pained whimper Jill pulled from you, but how his active imagination was contaminated with visions of gratifying you more than she ever could. You deserve every inkling of happiness the world has to offer and Carlos vows on doing everything within his power to grant you such.

The garment once in your hand is now long forgotten on the bathroom floor. Your pretty fingers barely hover over the expanse of his happy trail, adorned in thick heaps of jet-black hair. And he goes lightheaded from the faint contact alone.

You've already taken notice of the way his member protrudes through his jeans, but it is now clear as day how desperate Carlos wishes for you to choose him instead of your afternoon nap. Fortunately for him, you venture further, further, and further into his pants until your hand cups around his cock, nothing but the thin layer of his underwear separating you two. Carlos is never one to swear around you, (except for last night, but that is irrelevant) claiming you deserve tender praises instead of such violent language. Though, when you touch him, he growls out the most guttural "fuck!" you've ever heard part from someone's lips.

Perceiving how something wet leaks through his underwear, you furrow your brows as the revelation settles. Did you bring this man to orgasm just from being naked? No wonder it is always Jill who washes you...

This should have been evident in the sudden acceleration of his breathing, the dreamy, lust-stained glimmer engulfing his eyes, or the way his body trembles as if had been stuck in a mid-Winter storm. He practically chucks his head back and rests against the bathroom mirror; his chopped fingernails could tear the counter in two with how firm he clenches onto the surface.

More gasps and soft whines escape his slack jaw, obviously abstaining from screaming how good you make him feel. And every pant of your name escaping his breathless self causes flares of heat to imbue your body.

More assembles of pre-cum amalgamate with the previous mass of still-warm seed and bleed through the fabric. You lift his shirt a mere inch to allow you easier access. But, Carlos is swift to obey what he assumed to be your command and he eagerly tears his shirt over his head.

A heavy set of mouthwatering abs sheen with sweat, a display of disheveled chest hair, and two pairs of beefy, scar-ridden arms is what you are met with. You do not put any effort into masking your obvious gawking of Carlos' build. And he is elated to have your eyes on him.

When he had assumed Jill took you from him the day before, never to be seen again, this heavy dread has sat cozy in his gut since. Today, to have your full attention on him as he presents how every inch of his skin is for you to own, the pressure lightens and flutters away like a Monarch Butterfly.

“Oh, my g- my goddd" Carlos whines out after one particular harsh thrust of your palm.

He begins to twitch in your grasp when your efforts accelerate; his eyebrows curl upwards beneath the canopy of his mop-head hair. Carlos hasn't dared to shift his eyes down to you. Out of reason of deference, as you deserve. Though, he knows as a genuine fact that a single glance at your naked body, intense gaze, and the sight of your hands all over him would thrust him like a football into an earth-bending finish.

Restraining himself was an absolute pipedream, however. Your voice, your touch, and your scent pervade and overwhelm all senses within him. When your nimble fingers ghost over the sensitive expanse of his balls, he almost keels over and can't obstruct the words that bubble in his throat.

“You're gonna- You're gonna make me cum again...!” Promptly, you then yank your hand from the warm depths of Carlos' pants, practically roistering in the way he genuinely cries from the loss of contact.

When you expect him to initiate a swarm of stuttering beseeches to please continue, please make him feel good, please send him to the absolute nirvana only you can give him, you are met with the opposite, instead. Much to your surprise, he begins to thank you profusely, over and over and over again.

To beg you for anything would go against all of Carlos' morals, as every breath out of your mouth is pure gospel. And he'd be damned if he were to ever let himself be selfish with you, hence why he drowns you in gratitude for ever-so kindly giving him even just a speck of pleasure. He does not deserve more of you; it should be him on his knees at this moment, worshiping all of you.

The facade you had painted with confidence begins to crack when you become genuinely concerned for his well-being. You had only fondled him for less than a minute, had you broken him already?

The way he's heaving and gasping ushers you to believe he may blackout on the countertop. You wonder what Jill would think if she came home to found Carlos shirtless and unconscious on her bathroom counter, while you stand entirely naked with cum caked onto your hand. The thought is snatched from your mind when he begins to speak, almost as if he had magically sensed your attention reverting to her.

"Y/N... My-My honey, I can't stand just sitting here..." His adam's apple bobs when he swallows the salivation foaming in his mouth.

"Please let- Please let me make you feel good... Ask anything of me and it’ll be yours. There is nothing in this world I would ever deny you..." Carlos' tangent appeared like a bolt out of the blue.

Although your veneer had minor fractures due to your own shock, you still upheld your smug guise. With his eyes shut, still not daring to bask his undeserving gaze on your saintly body, you answer him with the same tone that never fails to make his knees weak.

"Take me to the bedroom."

Peeling his eyes open and casting his gaze on you, Carlos searches your expression for any sign of falter in truth. Another tremble reverberates through his body when he blesses his vision with the sight of you. After all, no matter how far he has fallen into the depths of enrapturement, any demand you throw his way will immediately be met.

He then clumsily stands to his feet. Fully expecting to walk there together, you take a single step away before a sudden yelp is pulled from you. With pure ease, you are suddenly scooped into Carlos' strong arms. When you encase your arms around his neck, the clammy state of his skin catches you off guard. Without a single speck of sweat on your entire body, you're perplexed he had been driven to such an exerted physical state from your trivial palm.

With how exhausted every fraction of Carlos seemed to be because of you, your heart caves. You shuffle from your spot in his arms and attempt to usher him down to the bed, where you would sit atop his body. This demand, despite his winning strike with following all, was rejected. His tender hands halt you from your efforts and hoist you back into his hold, once more.

"I'm sorry, honey-bee, but I-I can't let you work. Please- Please lay back and let me do everything I can to make you feel good... It's what you deserve; it's what I need." Even if you had turned his brain would mush, his relentless obligation to serve you could conquer through anything.

Arriving at your shared bed, Carlos drapes you among the silken sheets and is just in sheer awe of you. The atmosphere is uncomfortable as he hovers over you and just leers into the abyss of your soul. You then resort to pulling him against you by the back of his neck and enveloping him in an aggressive kiss.

The way Carlos kisses you has always been overwhelmed with reverent fervor. Now, however, there's a perceptible undertone of intense avidity in the way he molds his mouth against yours. And in the absolute best way possible, your scent overwhelms him like Summer sunlight beating against his skin.

Carlos has teased this idea numerous times, but the fantasies he's had where he wondered how your scent would sit in his nostrils, none of it compared to the real thing. Better than a crisp breeze in a mountaintop meadow, better than garden-fresh flowers, better than air after an eternity spent beneath the water. He'd give anything to spend the rest of his life with you.

Pulling away to allow your tight lungs the privilege of oxygen, Carlos immediately begins to fill the air with feverish, puddle-brained chatter. “Honey... Y/N... M’gonna take such good care of you, 'gonna do everything I can to make you happy. Won’t let anything happen to you, won’t let anything or anyone upset you... 'Gonna make you so happy.”

A tug to his belt loop and Carlos obeys quicker than you could ever verbalize your desire. He tears his jeans off as if the garb had been on fire, exposing his toned legs adorned with dark hair.

Reaching your hand out just an inch, he seems to have read your mind and carries out your unspoken demand, once again. He strips himself of his underwear, to where he now towers over your form entirely naked. And you have to restrain yourself from physically expressing your astonishment at the sight. When you had thought you had drawn an accurate picture of him while your hand was exploring downstairs, you hadn't prepared yourself for how everything would sit before your eyes.

The most perceivable sight was how much girth Carlos possessed and the slight tinge of fear you felt for what it may do to your body. With a rough estimation of nine inches, his sticky tip blares an annoyed red, the same hue as his desperation. His happy trail had led to even more heaps of bushy hair. A prominent vein runs diagonally down his curved shaft. The thickness grows in width from the base to the very tip of his cock. A set of heavy balls, the same expanse of sensitive skin that had him shaking beneath you, sit beneath.

“You deserve everything, Y/N. You- you deserve it all. Please... Please tell me everything... Tell me what I can give you, I-I'll give it all to you...” The lack of vocal indications on your end has taken quite a toll on him. No verbal commands sent his way and he's on the verge of tears.

Your words, your body, your scent — everything about you has Carlos stumbling to another early finish. His lips seem glued to yours, as well. Tongues cemented together as his hands caress all over your perfect body.

With his heartbeat skyrocketing, his figure tense with shock, and the way his chest rises and falls with heaving breaths, it was crystal clear just how hard he was resisting the urge to give in and fuck you into the next week. But, you're his sweet bumblebee, his darling deity. To be so selfish with you would make him deserving of a punishment worse than death.

“Carlos..." He nods in response to you so eagerly, you wonder if the force had sent his brain slamming against the walls of his skull. "... I want you to fuck me and fill me up over and over again until there’s no possible way I can escape the happiness you bring me.”

The growl that erupts in response to your filthy words was something akin to an animal. His hands, now propped against the side of your head to prop himself up, now clench the bedsheets with enough force to rip them.

Eyes practically burning holes into his, you grasp hold of his dick and revel in the way he trembles in response, before aligning him with your entrance. Appallingly, a tube of scentless lube had been hidden in the bedside drawer for the entire five months you've been here. Just waiting for this moment.

Now entirely slick with lube and pre-cum (you wouldn't be surprised if Carlos' tears were in that mix, as well), you playfully nudge his bulbous head against the edge of your hole. For the second time that day, your free hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him into another burning kiss. With a deep inhale of preparation, you slide him into you with steady effort.

And the way Carlos whimpers against your mouth makes you inadvertently clench around him.

With the mere tip inside of you, his voice raises several octaves and his eyebrows furrow from the sensations flooding his body. The kiss is broken by Carlos involuntarily, to where his open mouth moans against yours shamelessly. His mind is plagued by every inch of euphoria he didn't think was humanly possible to conjure, to a point where any rational thought had been robbed.

The further your silken walls adjust to his girth, the more you guide him inside. Every whine, every moan, every breathless tangent about you're perfection in all of its glory — it has you hazy with salacious desire. His hands continue to fondle you passionately and his lips still plant love all over your face and neck. You never thought someone could treat you with such doting care, especially after Jill's rough tactics from the day prior.

When he is entirely buried within you, it ejects an abrupt sound out of both of you. A gasp escapes your throat from how full you are at this moment. Two lanky fingers had nothing on the sheer girth of this cock sitting inside of you. Carlos practically yelps at the feeling of being swathed in your heavenly heat. The revelation of what is happening finally settles and he can hardly contain the sheer exhilaration that seeps from his body.

The tears that had been bridging in his eyes release and cascade down his cheeks, another physical representation of how devastatingly devoted he is to you. The number of curses and pornographic moans he releases into your ear seem almost exaggerated, but if Carlos is anything, he is surely not a liar. To lie to you, of all people, would be pure sin.

“I can’t lose you to her...” He babbles mindlessly yet honestly, “I’m so fucking obsessed with you, I-... I really can’t lose you, baby-bee... You’re taking me too fucking good. God, please!”

"Aww, you poor thing..." You mockingly coo to him. "Are you 'gonna cum already? You said you'd take care of me, but here you are saying all this dumb gibberish just from having your dick inside of me."

Unbeknownst to you, the 'dumb gibberish' you assumed to be the product of a sex-drunk mind was the unadulterated truth.

You thought of his state as pitiful, but if you had known how every plead of his was genuine, you surely would not poke the bear. Meanwhile, every gentle thrust has Carlos whimpering and crying as the sheer love he has for you devastates his entire being. You could degrade him, insult him, beat him to within an inch of his life and he would still come back to you again and again. All as if he was born for the sole reason of making love to you. As if God crafted his mind, his body, and his soul for the sole purpose of bringing you pleasure.

And as endearing as the slow, sensual motions were, you have now fully adjusted to his size and you were craving more of what his body is capable of giving you.

"You said you'd do anything for me, yeah?" His reserved attention escapes from your body the second your voice pervades, to where he nods avidly without hesitation.

"Then fuck me like you mean it."

A hand against his tailbone, you usher him to accelerate his speed. And to call his rhythm messy would be generous.

Riddled with gut-wrenching pleasure, Carlos can hardly keep the pace he had used for the one-night stands he had years ago. Every random bar hopper or coworker he had in his sheets was nothing short of utterly boring. Still, he enjoyed the inflation they gave to his ego when they moaned in annoying tones about how he was the "best fuck of their life." With you beneath him, all finesse and skill had been fogged by the sheer eroticism he possesses for you.

Since you had waltzed into his life, those random hookups dulled so obnoxiously in comparison to you, not a single soul could get his blood pumping the way you do. Not that he ever attempted, however. Any attempt at buying him a drink or fluttering their lashes would be met with an unforeseen roar of fury. To interrupt the time he spent with you in his head was a death wish, after all.

In present time, more importantly, Carlos begins to plunge into you with religious fervor. Those muscles you could never grow tired of admiring become taut as they strive to send his dick as deep as it can go. His strong, dominant physique does not match the noises tumbling from his mouth, however. Labored praises and desperate wails pant against your face before he delves into another frenzied kiss of millions.

With what little knowledge that managed to survive the muddled storm reigning havoc within his brain, Carlos uses his free hand to stimulate your sex. You throw your head back against the cushioned pillows from the new, sudden flare of pleasure. Instead of the boost it gave to his self-esteem, the way it did with others, it feels as though someone had clenched his heart with their fist. To know he is making you feel good has no difference with absolute heaven.

The sensation of his cock twitching within the expanse of your walls has you giggling from how ephemeral he lasts.

"Are you gonna fill me to the fucking brim? Have me walk around the house with your hot cum leaking down my thighs? Let Jill see how fucking good you make me feel?"

“Fucking-" The way Carlos growls is almost monstrous. A grunt follows at the prospect of claiming you from Jill.

"Yeah? You like that idea?"

“God-fucking-damn, you know how much I fucking love that idea." The voice that had grown high-pitched had suffered from a sudden descent, his tone was now entirely guttural. Despite this, his hands always remain tender and those whimpers still sit on his tongue.

Carlos pulls his body upwards, grasping hold of your legs and setting them on his shoulders. Now in a mating press, your nipples and sweaty skin are practically snuggled into the hairy expanse of his chest. He cages his forearms around your head, hastening his sporadic assault inside of you.

The sudden force has your eyes crossing and your head dizzy with jubilation; the lavish bed frame squeals with every thrust sent into your body. That smug facade you had crafted for this event begins to melt into the sheets. From the bliss claiming your body and how overwhelmingly loved you feel, that familiar heat inside your gut intensifies. Feeling the absolute paradise of your walls begin to flutter around him, Carlos is completely lost in empyrean ecstasy at the sight of you so overwhelmed with happiness. Still, you deserve more. You deserve happiness that even he cannot give you, but he is more than willing to hunt down every sliver.

I can't let you go, Carlos thinks to himself, If anything tried to take you from me, I'm scared of who I'd become...

"Please, honey... Please cum for me. Need to- Need you to feel good. Need you to cum around me. I don't care about me, I only care about you. Please, I-I'm begging you... Please..." It seems as though the heavy set of balls slapping against your ass weren't begging to release inside of you. Everything and anything is for you, after all.

In spite of your egoistic nature being squished with every thrust, a fraction of it remained.

"I'll cum if..." You teasingly bring your finger to your chin as if you were deep in thought, while Carlos anticipates your response. "I'll cum if you can tell me the first tooth I lost and how old I was..."

I've got him there, you muse to yourself. You entertain what kind of mindless delirium he'll plead out for you when it's impossible for him to guess the answer.

"Second premolar. Five years old."

The five words are said within a single breath.

And you don't have much of a chance to delve into how the fuck he knew that, not when his cock is sending you to cloud nine.

You retort with another demand, pretending you had never tried to make such a senseless joke in the first place.

"I... I'll only cum if you cum, too. 'Wanna feel your load inside me, 'wanna have proof of how good you treat me."

Carlos practically explodes into you from the words you whimpered out.

There is no build-up; your mere words control his body like a puppeteer and have him spilling out into your guts. A pleasured bleat, one that would emulate even the most expensive worker at a high-end brothel, escapes from him. Like some sort of slut he doesn't recognize, he wails out incoherent, babbling words of devotion.

Thick, sticky, warm seed paints your walls and oozes onto the fancy sheets below. Still, the sheer power of his thrusts does not waver in the slightest. Even with the fatigue settling into his body, Carlos' cock hardens instantaneously in response to your heat swathing around him.

“Finding me in RC that night was the worst mistake of your life.” Even in the face of the absolute mess you have turned him into, Carlos' voice still contains that deep, husky tone that sends chills down your body. “You’ll never be rid of me now. Wherever you go, I will follow. You will never escape my love; you will never escape my worship..."

You're practically crying at this point. From the satiating pleasure overwhelming your body, but also the terror-inducing undertones that stain all of Carlos' words.

You will never escape this pleasure, you now realize.

And he is fully convinced you are God, how you tighten and moan for him. You had leaped down from the clouds, left behind an army of angels and devoted followers, and fallen right into his arms. All for him to dedicate his life to glorifying.

Toes curling and fingers clenching the sheets, the orgasm that soon hits you is adorned with love but is unbelievably severe in the same breath. A shriek of pure delectation sprouts from your throat and envelops the air. Meanwhile, the sight of you in the peaks of exhilaration pushes Carlos over that edge, once again.

“Fuuuuck. Give it to me, honey. Give it to me. F-Fuck…!”

Carlos' stomach sucks in, suffocating him entirely and confining around his gut like a tight knot. Another deafening curse follows when that string is cut and another load of seed is spilled into your body.

With his mind now past any barrier of chivalry, he has fully granted himself permission to subsume every inch of you. The sheer sight of all your skin is so impeccably paradisiacal, his body can't refrain from reacting.

In the height of his pleasure, he ponders over how if you were a religion, he’d live in the attic of your church and bathe in holy water every day. His knees would become numb from the hours spent praying at your altar; his eyes would become dry from the hours spent reading through the bible and analyzing every detail. Any syllable out of your mouth would be met with immediate agreement and any treacherous remarks others make adhering to you would be met with the barrel of his gun. Carlos is your most devoted follower, your most loyal servant. Always and forever, he is for you to use to your liking.

Languid and muzzy compliments kissed upon your skin tell you of how you have left Carlos entirely brain-dead. For a moment, you think you may have fucked all obsession out of him when his peak simmers down (although this prospect is impossible). With the sweat, lube, cum, and god-knows-what else is on your body, all you crave at this moment is a bubble bath. Then, you'll abide by the rules set out for you and indulge in an afternoon nap.

With that, you take advantage of his nearly-unconscious state and muster enough strength within you to shove his limp body off. A bereft whimper escapes his throat in response but is quickly overpowered by the sheer euphoria flooding his body. Soon, Carlos returns to mumbling nonsense about the perfection you possess and other incoherent babbles of captivation.

Standing, albeit wobbling slightly due to your woozy brain, you tread to the ensuite bathroom where this mess had first begun. You ignore the mess of dirty clothes scattered around in favor of cleaning your lethargic body.

A swift churn to the valve and lukewarm water begins to spread throughout the sumptuous bathtub. Several spurts of your favorite soap into the running faucet, the pleasant scent soon spreads throughout the room. Five months and the simple act of enjoying a bath in solitude was almost unfamiliar to you. Since then, you had forgotten just how meditative it was to let your body melt into the relaxing, warm water without any wandering hands. Massaging your muscles and scrubbing every mess from your smooth skin, it felt amazing and empowering to have control of yourself for once.

For the hour spent soaking in sheer tranquility, you then unclog the drain and watch as the water drains. Drying your body with an expensive towel you can't fathom the price of, you cast your gaze through the large window.

Outside, the only thing accompanying this house was trees. More heaps of rain scatter the area enveloped in late-night hues, accompanying the heavy fog that sat upon the forest floors. If it was merely that easy, you'd launch your body through that glass right now and dash for your freedom. But, you know your efforts would never be brought to fruition. Instead, you apply a set of perfumed lotion to your skin and dress yourself in a fresh set of clean pajamas. Again, something you had rarely been given the advantage to do yourself.

When you leave the ensuite, however, you are thrown into a loop when you witness what now lies within the bedroom.

Candles and incense scatter the dark room, illuminating the array of rose petals adorning the floors. The bed was now completely clean with a fresh set of sheets, pillows, and comforters. A tray table is set upon the blankets. Sat on top of it, you find a mug of your favorite tea and a glass of water with cucumber and lemon slices for him (it has always been his favorite, after all). Two plates of spaghetti with one fork accompany them, as well. In addition to this, a charcuterie board enriched with all sorts of delicious snacks was rested by the delicious meal.

The most unforgettable part about this sudden scene, however, was Carlos. In the hour you had spent alone, not only had managed to cook a variety of dishes for you, but he had also managed to shower in Jill's ensuite, style his hair, patch up his stubble, and dress himself in a tailored suit.

All you can do is stand on the threshold and question how in the fuck was he able to do all of this within a single hour? You are so flabbergasted in fact, you ponder if the bathtub behind you was actually a portal to an alternate reality. Additionally, you can't refrain from laughing to yourself over how he is surely the only man on Earth to set all of this up after sex.

With pure ease, once again, Carlos trudges over to you and scoops you up into his arms. Even with wet hair, pajamas, and tired eyes, it shocks you how this man still looks at you like you're a model fresh off the runway. Or more accurately, an angel that had descended from the clouds and into this bedroom.

"You know you didn't have to do all of this for me, right?" For the umpteenth time that day, Carlos sets you upon the fresh set of bedsheets, tucking the high-quality comforter around your legs.

"There is no line that I wouldn't cross for you..." A smile quirks on his lips. The horror-stricken connotations reside beneath the dreamy sheen of his gaze.

From here on out, Carlos sits on the edge of the bed and oscillates between feeding you and himself spaghetti. And the way he crafts the dish is easily the most delectable piece you have ever tasted, which is never a surprise when it comes to his culinary skills.

During the process, it seems as though everything has returned to normal and the events that had taken place on this exact bed had never happened. It isn't ignored out of embarrassment or regret, though. Instead, it is from absolute disbelief that such an amazing thing had happened to someone like him. He can hardly contain the gratitude and heart-stopping rapture coursing through his body, hence the dramatic measures he took to express these feelings.

With an onslaught of cheesy jokes and praises that would put Romeo and Juliet's love to shame, that smile you give Carlos makes everything he has ever done absolutely worth it. There is no greater happiness he can feel than when he is witnessing your own.

When you attempt to pluck a grape from the grape cluster rested upon the board, though, Carlos is brought out of his haze and he halts your actions. He grasps the cluster for himself, tilting your head back with a gentle tap to your chin, and proceeds to feed you grapes as if you were some divine being. And in his eyes, you are all that and more. It is evident in just how blissful he feels from feeding you, the act of worship far better than any drug.

When the cluster of ripe fruit was reduced to nothing but lone twigs, the disappointment within Carlos' expression was almost palpable. The sorrow is short-lived, however, when he resorts to feeding you more heaps of spaghetti.

If you were honest, you have lost count of how many times you have eaten this exact dish for dinner. At first, you were confused as to why you were all eating spaghetti almost every night. That is until you realized Carlos was attempting to reenact the adorable scene from Lady and the Tramp. It would have been romantic if it weren't for the third party practically glaring daggers into his soul every time he strived for this outcome. Without Jill here, you swallow your pride and indulge him in what he has been craving for months.

You bite down on the edge of the spaghetti string and hold the other end with the fork, ushering him into the act of affection. And God, Carlos lights up like a kid on Christmas morning when he finally computes your intentions.

Eagerly taking the string into his mouth, he does not savor the moment in the slightest. Before you can garner even an inch of the delicious capellini, Carlos is practically slurping the strand down his throat as he hastens closer to you. There's a wild glimmer that twinkles in his eye as he continues to accelerate.

A deep, shaky exhale is released from him when your lips finally meet. He tastes of his normal tang of mint and lemon but with the added flavor of his homemade marinara recipe. Using your teeth to cut the spaghetti string in two, your attempts at establishing how the romantic scene was over were never acknowledged. Large hands cling to your face and indulge in any last sliver of you he can hoard.

"I love you, honey-bee, I love you so much. You've saved my life over and over and over again and I will do everything in my power to show you how grateful I am..." Carlos' words are sweet and ridden with unhealthy amounts of ceaseless worship. Meanwhile, you chase your breath when he finally releases your mouth from his relentless, loving torture.

Soon, every crumb from all plates has vanished within your stomach, despite your assurances you have been fully satiated.

A tinge of guilt eats away at you when you realize just how much this man has done for you. The trance he is lost in whenever he tends to you has seemingly gone unbeknownst to you, even after all these months. You offer to take care of the dishes, but the way he tenses in response makes you recoil. It had been two months since it happened, but Carlos remembers it like it was a mere second ago.

When you had tended to the mess left after breakfast, your butterfingers had dropped a glass, causing it to shatter against the tiled floors. Fortunately, you had managed to lift yourself onto the counter in a swift attempt at protecting yourself. Despite these efforts, one minor, practically microscopic, cat scratch had been left on your shin. And Carlos lost his mind.

Since then, you have been banned from partaking in any house chores. This rule had stood before this incident, but with the new underlying fear, he was far more strict with this order. After all, you could clear your throat and he'd convince himself you were having an asthma attack.

Now, however, he reminds you of how you are still on bed rest from the night prior, before leaving a prolonged kiss on your forehead and leaving with the dishes.

The door closes and you immediately escape the restricting sheets surrounding you. Venturing onto the balcony, you rest against the ledge and admire how the stars scatter among the night sky. The bright moon complements them and dazzles you. All those nights in the sanctuary spent looking at the same sky, you wonder what your friends were occupied with right now.

Are you still considered missing or have you been presumed dead by now? Did they all know you'd be taken away or are they still trying to search for you after you mysteriously vanished?

Carlos returns in record time and you are swift in wiping away the evidence of tears brimming in your eyes. He informs you of how you should be in bed and attempts to sound strict, but the permanent, loving tint in his expression jeopardizes his efforts. With a face like yours, how could he ever be mad?

When you ask to stay, he hesitates. But, when you give him those puppy-dog eyes that never fail to make him weak, he caves in. With an assurance of how you could stargaze on the porch swing together, as well as an additional remark of how he is more comfortable than the bed, his cheeks grow warm and all rules he had set are thrown out the window.

Sitting in the exact seat you had suggested, Carlos pulls you into his lap. Another stupid joke of millions is made by him before he blows a raspberry into the side of your face. The burst of laughter and heart-wrenching giggles he earns makes him feel weightless. A trail of kisses are left down your right arm, an act of affection he had always initiated in regards to the injury you faced six years ago. And by giving him a compliment about his suit and a nickname of "teddy bear" (his favorite), you have now melted this man into a puddle of sugary words and dazed devotion.

With the swinging of the chair, the tender caresses to your body, and the soft breeze from the late-night air, you soon drift off in his arms. In 24 hours, Carlos has concluded that he may forgive Jill for what she did to you if this is the product of all her wrongdoings.

Once more, with every day the rain falls, you have come to learn several new things.

Oh, how Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira love Y/N L/N.

It is evident throughout every day, where fragments of their adoration are sprinkled into every moment you spend together.

Life with these two is mellow, but intense in the same breath. You're treated like royalty, never allowed to lift a single finger. However, never once in your life have you been indulged in such intense displays of devotion. You'll be worshiped like a deity, soon to be smothered beneath their suffocating embrace without any room for dispute. You are never alone; if you're not with one, you are certainly with the other. Whether this is rooted in their overprotective nature or the simple desire to be with you at all times (or possibly even both) will forever remain a mystery to you.

Jill is overwhelmingly possessive and never refrains from proving how easily she can claim you. Displaying her strength throughout the day, expressing the barriers she's overcome to save you, and bragging about the fights she's won. You would be fearful of her violent tangents if it weren't for the swirling adoration in her hazy, blue eyes.

There is no need to take that cutthroat, bad-cop exterior to heart, either. Not when the box hidden beneath the floorboards tells an entirely different story. Just don’t be surprised if your nail clippings and underwear suddenly vanish out of thin air.

Carlos has a warm heart reserved for you, but the organ is astonishingly jealous, as well. Constantly cooking myriads of dishes for you, cleaning every speck of dust to ever exist, being your teddy bear. You would be overwhelmed by his aggressive affections if it weren't for those tender hands soothing his baby of any restless sorrow.

There is no need to take that tenacious, puffy-eyed exterior to heart, either. Not when the journals hidden beneath the floorboards tell an entirely different story. Just don’t be surprised if you find pages covered with your name and proclamations of devotion, all written red with his fresh blood.

Life had been adorned in these matters for a while. Another month has tread by and all wounds, both physical and mental, have fortunately healed. As well as the poor kitchen island, which has now been revived with a sleek marble finish. You'll just choose to ignore how Carlos and Jill had locked you in the bedroom when the repairman spent several hours patching up the counter, ensuring he didn't wander off. If he found you, he'd surely want you for himself, the two are sure of it.

Instead, you swerve your attention toward how all conflicts have been reduced to minimal bickers. Though the jealous glares and backhanded comments will always remain, your days together have shifted toward much brighter circumstances.

With the presence of Spring lurking, the golden sun has escaped through the clouds and now engulfs the world in its warm hues. Your relentless suggestions of enjoying the pleasant weather had originally been brought to zero fruition. Especially with what occurred the last time you had left. Danger resides around every corner, they claimed. Outside these suffocating walls, you would be exposed to this. Even from something as little as nearly tripping over a protruding tree root, the thought made them both aghast.

However, when you look at them like that, they can feel their stern exterior crack beneath the harsh blows your adorable self delivers. And the look of surprised joy in your expression when they introduced the idea of enjoying a picnic by the private riverside erased any restriction either of them had.

The wicker basket sitting on a picnic blanket is full of numerous delicious treats, all crafted by Carlos' hands. With your fresh pair of expensive boots on (after Jill insisted on sitting you down and quadruple-knotting your shoelaces), the three of you are leaving the house at each other's sides. More so, Carlos is shoulder-to-shoulder with you and flinching at any feeble sound while Jill remains level-headed, soaking in your enthusiastic state of mind.

The wooden, decaying trail was adorned with unkempt debris, a considerable contrast to the pristine appearance of the house. With a hand around your waist, Jill guards you against the protruding nails and chunks of sharp wood threatening to bring you harm. The sight of several goosebumps littering your arm and Carlos strips his coat off and fastens it around your form. All as if you weren't wearing clothing thick enough to be considered armor. You're surprised he hadn't suffocated you with bubble wrap before you left.

Despite their suffocating and infantilizing treatment, you do not let them spoil this experience. For months, you have only ever seen this wondrous rainforest through a window. Now, being within the genuine physicality of it was nothing short of breathtaking.

Gentle rain patters against the healthy leaves; birds squawk and chitter throughout the trees. The thunderous sound of a heavy waterfall echoes throughout the expanse and has you mesmerized. And you cannot forget the fresh air invading your lungs and just how much you had longed for it.

The scent of rainwater and late-morning fog complement the state of serenity you're in, as well. You almost step directly into the adjacent river from how captivated you were by the beautiful sight. From behind you, Jill's voice pervades the peaceful atmosphere.

"Careful, baby. 'Don't want you gettin' wet. Rather it be in another wa- agh!" A rough grunt is pulled from Jill before she can complete her sentence. Abruptly, she is shoved to the forest floor.

Her well-being is entirely ignored by Carlos, who chooses to ensnare you in his protective hold instead. Letting your vision absorb what had occurred over your shoulder, you see a man dressed in a white-lab coat towering over her. When you see that familiar Umbrella symbol on his shoulder, you are ashamed to feel a sense of safety in their presence. They had provided you with the only place you were ever able to confidently call "home", after all.

When you attempt to wrangle from Carlos' suffocating hold, your efforts halt when he whips out a handgun and points the weapon at the assailant. Did he really bring that to our picnic?

A harsh kick to his crotch and the man above Jill keeled over, granting her the opportunity to spring to her feet and race to your aid. She then grabs hold of the handgun she brought, as well. Why on Earth did they both bring weapons!?

Never one to hesitate, she flicks the safety off, juts her finger against the trigger, and a permeating bang! thunders against your eardrums. Before you can witness the aftermath induced by her bullet, Carlos' hand shields your eyes from the sight. A heavy set of numerous footsteps follow the silence left after the gunshot and strengthen the dreadful fear in your gut.

When they begin to hasten towards you alone, a flurry of gunshots echo.

Amid the chaos, an unseen force from behind yanks you out of the strong arms locked around your form. You splat harshly against the ground and the contact robs a groan of pain from your chest. Attempting to identify what was responsible for the sudden altercation, you find another stranger at your side who was dressed in the same white garb. The terror envelops you in its bitter embrace as you anticipate his next move.

Before he can even think of touching you, however, he is violently tackled to the ground by Carlos. Glancing past him, vomit threatens to escape from your stomach when you find several other men lying lifeless. Pools of blood mend with the soil and paint your shoes; the scent of iron and gunpowder make your nose twitch from the unwelcome pervasion.

"Put a fuckin' finger on them and I'll leave all of yours at your mother's doorstep!" It doesn't surprise you that Jill was responsible for this flare of savagery. Gun in one hand, pocket knife in the other, the blood of your assailants adorns her entire body as she continues to combat anyone standing in her way.

"How dare you put your fucking hands on them!? I'll spend eternity making sure you're rotting in Hell for what you’ve done!" Carlos did not differ from her state, either. Your attacker had already been presumed dead, but the man above him continues to surge his fists into the gorey expanse of his deformed face.

And much like the brawl between Jill and Carlos, you were left in a state of shock and unable to make any coherent actions.

All you do is sit at the stump of this tree and watch as the hysterical display folds out before you. The carnage satiating your senses is enough evidence that these two will conquer this battle. But as they claim more bodies, more heaps of men adorned with the same Umbrella patch follow.

Jill and Carlos quickly become overpowered by the sheer amount of violent people closing in on them. Through every punch, every slice, every gunshot, all advantages used to defend themselves are stolen from them. Several men now hold them compliant to the muddied ground as the two roar out curses and threats.

Another man soon joins the scene, verbally tutting at the impact left behind, before turning to you. And when you fully take in his features, your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach.

Doctor Gorkis, or 'Matt', as he insisted you to call him stands by your feet.

He had aided you during the precarious descent into your new life within the sanctuary and remained your friend throughout the years. And if you were honest with yourself, you have always harbored a sort of childlike crush on him. The knight in shining armor; the prince who saves you from the evil dragon. The feelings you had for him were something along those lines. If Jill and Carlos knew this, they'd surely rip his head off, but that presumption was irrelevant right now.

Matt bends down to your level, the violent shouts of "don't you fucking touch them!" from behind him nothing but a mere passing car, a drifting thought.

"Hello, Y/N..." When you hear his voice, you finally comprehend how much you have yearned for your old life, for him. It is soft and euphonious, but still possesses a friendly shimmer that could melt even the coldest of hearts, you're sure of it.

Shifting your attention away from your old friend, you look to Jill and Carlos. They both struggle and shout beneath the weight of their attackers, more desperate than you have ever seen them before.

Poor Carlos is just sobbing. All his speech is sullied and incoherent, far too overwhelmed by the weight of his emotions. Shockingly, you see Jill weeping, as well. This is the first occurrence in which you have seen such acute emotion within her, within both of them.

A single night in heaven granted them six endless years of torture. Then, they were gifted six months of sheer bliss. To know that in the blink of an eye, this stranger could unsheathe a weapon and take your life right then and there, while all they can do is watch in horror — it destroys them.

Your gaze is soon forced back onto Matt. Albeit forcefully when he tilts his head into your train of vision, intense eyes peering into yours.

"A lot has changed since you were taken from us. Our organization has changed for the better and we have taken extra precautions to ensure our patients' safety. Your safety. You will be safe now. That is... If you'll come with me...?" His words confuse you.

"Butterfly, don't you dare listen to him! He's full of shit!" One on hand, you're convinced Jill and Carlos had saved you from a corrupt company.

"Sweet Bumblebee, you are the only reason I am alive! Don't listen to him...! Please, don't listen to him..." On the other hand, the familiarity of Matt's presence lulls you into complying.

"Those two don't care for you, not like me and all of your friends back home. If you come with me, you can see them again..." You don't know who to believe.

The fear paralyzing your body, despite how meager it was compared to everything else, is all the proof you need to decide what path you should venture on.

You cannot trust anyone, so you choose to trust yourself.

You were never meant to be in the restricting paradise of Umbrella's sanctuary; you were never meant to be locked away with your two corrupt lovers. Maybe you were always meant to be alone.

Using the tree for stability, you stand on your feet. Matt follows your movements, seemingly guarding you from the two feral dogs pinned to the forest floor.

With the ball in your court, all three of them hastily anticipate your answer.

A step away and your answer is clear.

You choose no one.

And you choose to ignore how Jill and Carlos practically screech for you as you walk away from them. But, you couldn't choose to ignore Matt when he follows you in your path and closes the short distance between you two. He pulls out an anesthesia mask with his gloved hand and presses it to your face, ensnaring you in his arms.

As you are soothed into unconsciousness, he reassures you that everything will be alright. And if you choose to ignore the desperate shouts of your name fading out, you could almost believe him.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

THE BONUS TRACK !

❝ LOST IN THE LABYRINTH

OF MY MIND . . . ❞

bc i can't control myself, here are more visions of jill and carlos' house. here, here, here, here, here, and here.

gif credits :: jill & carlos.

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apollodarling-writes · 4 months

Note

Babycakes can you pretty please write a male y/n x yan!ghostface where y/n doesn’t die in the end and lowkey falls in love 🤭 (also pretty please make ghostface a praiser 🙏🏽)

FAMOUS LAST WORDS

yan! dbd! ghostface x gen jockey! male! reader

cws : yandere themes, a bit of dry humping, praise, creampie, choking, rough sex, kinda ?? handjob (reader receiving), orgasm control, knife play, anal, pronebone, dubcon??? , mentions of public masturbation, thigh fucking, danny is a tease, reader cleans his blood off of the bowie so blood play but ingestion??? , cum eating i guess but the reader is made to clean up his cum from danny’s gloves.

the fog that hung between the trees was particularly thick this trial. the red forest was known for being hard to navigate in some areas due to the low lighting, and the natural fog scattered throughout the landscape was of no help either. you were unsure if one of the survivors offered the entity a bottle of murky reagent, but it had become harder to see than it already was. you suppose you couldn’t complain as it made you harder to track, and thus it was easier to hide.

your group had completed two generators without a single person being hooked. anxiety knotted your stomach as you mulled over what the killer was up to. was the killer waiting for your group to finish the generators and then camp the gates? were they watching from the shadows and getting some sort of sick pleasure from watching the lot of you squirm? the answer to these questions was beyond your reach, and you knew that all you could do was focus on the task at hand. if you struck the wires too early, you would blow up the generator and the killer would surely know your location if they didn’t already.

a chill runs the length of your spine, gooseflesh raising the hairs on your body. you stop repairing the generator for a moment, the feeling of being watched prevalent as your swivel your head to find the source of the gaze. you’d been in this realm long enough to abide by your instincts. your gaze flits through the trees, your heart thumping in your chest as you are unable locate the source. chalking it up to the quietness of the trial, you busy your hands with firing the wires of the generator, successfully sparking one portion. you sift through your toolbox, searching through old and rusted scraps for something to replace one of the broken parts.

a hand suddenly grips the back of your neck, hoisting you off the ground. a hand muffles your cry of protest, bending your front over the generator.

“shhh… just be quiet now, baby.” a muffled voice all but pants, their chest pressing against your back as they lean forward to whisper in your ear. “i’ve finally got you to myself….”

you recognize that voice — the ghostface. realization washes over you; the quietness of the trial, feeling watched, the lack of a terror radius…. it all made sense now. your tongue darts out to lick the leathery material of his gloved palm in a feeble attempt to get him to release you.

“be patient now,” the ghostface groans, “we’ll get there, pretty boy.”

the ghostface maneuvers his fingers to grip your wrists, pinning them behind your back while grinding his half-hard cock into the meat of your ass. you squirm at his touch, feeling disgusted at the desperate panting the man behind you let out.

“i know you’ve been thinking about this,” the masked man grunts, his breath hitching. “i’ve seen you fuck yourself in trials before — did’ya think i wouldn’t know?”

shame and embarrassment wash over you, a quiet whimper leaving your lips as a hand snakes around to palm you through your bottoms. “n—not here… please—“

“god, look at how cute you are,” the ghostface coos, his gloved hand slipping past your waistband and cupping your length. “keep begging like that and i won’t be able to control myself.”

“i’m not—“

“ah-ah, quiet now… don’t you wanna be good for me, baby?” he purrs, your hips bucking as his thumb brushes against your cockhead. ”mmm, so sensitive. i think im gonna have fun with you…”

the ghostface’s hand tugs down your pants, your protests going unheard as you hear his robes shift. his cock slides between your thighs — the intrusion unwelcome and unfamiliar.

“stop… i cant — we can’t… not here.” you panic, your gaze flitting through the areas you could see. god forbid any of the other survivors witness this and get the wrong idea. you’d be considered a fucking traitor. maybe they’d even think you were selling them out. or, shit, what if they thought you were slutting yourself out to survive?

“shut the fuck up,” he groans, his cock brushing against your shaft. “just sit there and look pretty for me, ‘kay?”

your mouth immediately closes, figuring it would be better to just let him have his way and hopefully all five gens will be done by the time he finishes. your body is tense with shame and guilt, your thighs clenched around the masked man’s length in an attempt to get him off faster.

the ghostface spits in his hand, wrapping his fingers around you again, and pumps you in time with each thrust. with each movement, you find yourself melting into his touch, biting your lip to keep yourself quiet. he was too good at this, and he fucking knew.

“y’like that, baby?” you could hear the smirk in his tone.

“fuck you.“ you grit out, hating that you were becoming aroused at such an invasive, disgusting act.

“oh, i plan to, little bunny.”

the masked man removes his hand just as you were on the cusp of your orgasm, a soft whine leaving your lips. your cockhead is flushed an angry red, beads of precum now smeared along your shaft. “why’d you—“

you suck in a breath as a finger slowly dips into your ass, curling into your g-spot. the feeling was foreign, and it hurt like a bitch, but fuck did it feel good. “yeah? just like that, pretty boy?”

he slowly pumps his finger, careful not to hurt you as he works up to another one; his fingers scissor and stretch, curling into your prostate. before you knew it, the man had gotten three fingers in you, your legs shaking and your whimpers increasing in volume as you come closer and closer to your climax.

“fuck — ‘m gonna cum.” you pant, your back arching as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers. through a lust-induced haze, you hear a faint chuckle before the sensation you crave eludes you. the ghostface removes his digits, your cock twitching and aching for release.

“oh, you poor thing. were you gonna cum?” the man murmurs teasingly, his own erection throbbing beneath the layers of his robes. he eagerly grips the back of your neck and ushers you on your stomach behind the generator, lifting his clothing just enough to carefully push inside of you.

“y’so fuckin’ tight..!” he hisses, releasing your wrists to press down on your lower back. your fingers find purchase in the dirt of the forest floor as the ghostface slowly thrusts into you, your gummy walls hugging the man’s cock so deliciously.

with each thrust, you found it harder and harder to control your volume. with the way the man had angled himself, the tip of his cock bumped against your g-spot damn near constantly. your stomach tightened as your release began to approach once more, desperate whimpers and whines leaving your lips as tears pricked your eyes.

“i’m gonna cum – ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum…” you whine, “please, i need more!”

the killer groans in ecstacy at your desperation, his cock twitching inside of you as one hand wraps around your throat, lifting you from the dirt. “gonna have to fuck you more often, yeah? youre doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, baby.”

his digits tighten around your throat, cutting off your air supply as your jaw slackens at the brutal pace. a gurgled moan parts your lips, your face growing red from the lack of oxygen. mercifully, he releases his grip on you, but is quick it with the cold steel of his bowie knife.

the ghostface snakes an arm around your midsection, pumping your cock in time with each mind-numbing thrust. you hold yourself up as the blade trails along your flesh, drawing thin lines of blood. it seemed that the man was getting off on the pain he inflicted, his thrust becoming harder, faster.

the blade trails up, pressing against your lips. “open up, baby. gotta clean up your mess.” the ghostface breathily groans, his thrusts growing sloppy.

your lips part, the blade resting on your tongue as your lips close around it. it tastes like iron, your own blood coating your tongue as your cock twitches in the killer’s fist. ropes of cum spill onto the leather of your assailant’s glove, a long moan erupting from your throat as your vision blurs with tears. your hips buck into his grasp, the killer never once stopping. your mind melts into a delicious quiet, the only thing you’re able to focus on is how fucking good it feels.

“fuck — you feel so fucking good, bunny.” he groans, sheathing his blade and replacing it with the cum stained leather. “be a good boy and clean off my glove, yeah?”

the killer pants as you mindlessly obey his order, the bitter taste seemingly only serving to arouse you further. you lap at the cum on his glove while the killer fucks into you with fervor, breathy groans leaving him as the chill of his mask presses into your shoulder. the ghostface weakly thrusts into you as his climax washes over him. his cock twitches inside of you, cum painting your insides as he slowly comes down from his high.

the man is quick to fix his attire as the exit gate sounds, leaving you breathless as cum drips down your thighs, the scent of dirt and sex staining your clothing. with shaky legs, you pull up your bottoms and quietly mull over what just happened as you make your way to the exit gate on the opposite side of the map.

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animeyanderelover · 9 months

Text

I did something like this before with Dazai but I just sort of redid it again because I was in the mood.

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, clinginess, touchiness, stalking, paranoia, controlling behavior, manipulation, guilt-tripping, isolation, abduction, pregnancy, C-section, mentions of non-con, Stockholm syndrome, baby-trapping, afab s/o

Tags: @lovley-valentine7 @leveyani @chxxz @shumidehiro @izanami78

Pregnancy Hc’s

Pluto

🐺You've always wondered if Pluto due to being a Demon Hound would go into rut as well now that apparently he has chosen you as his mate. You remember having done a lot of research on wolves. Now that you are permanently stuck with him in a den filled with clothes and blankets he has stolen from villages to keep you warm, you can't help but feel scared when you see the worst fits of winter slowly passing by and the snow melting. Breeding season is from February to March as you can recall and so you watch with growing caution and worry Pluto's behavior. He's recently acted strange. He always rubs his scent all over you, growls as soon as you dare to leave his vision and has been getting a lot more aggressive and irritated with every living being around his den. You fear the worst as he grows clingier and clingier until one day your worst fears are confirmed when sharp nails rip your old and worn-out clothes from your body as red pupils dilate and you feel his erection rutting against your entrance, irritated that he can't get in before he finally slips into you. He barely separates from you during his rut as he spends his time either breeding you or cuddling next to you protectively.

🐺You know that he would be the one who would notice your potential pregnancy first due to his enhanced senses and when he soon starts nudging your tummy with a satisfied rumble coming from deep within his chest and starts licking it, you take it as a confirmation that he succeeded in breeding you. You don't take the news well because you know that you have no doctor to visit and no midwife to help you when you'll eventually give birth. You only have Pluto with you who resembles from behavior and intelligence a wolf. You can't help but sob a bit when you realise that you'll have to essentially go through pregnancy and birth all by yourself. Pluto, distressed by your sorrow and stress, starts whining and tries to ease your distress by cuddling himself physically close to you. Obviously he doesn't understand what you are thinking right now or why you are so stressed in the first place. He only knows that he doesn't like to see you so panicked and sad, especially now that you carry pups.

🐺As the male wolf who sired the offspring developing in your tummy, he grows exponentially more protective as his instincts remind him that he is protector and provider for the mother of his children as well as the babies themselves. He starts hunting animals and even buries them for later. You do your best to light up a fire in here to cook the raw meat or just command Pluto to breathe fire for you, a useful trick you've taught him ever since he abducted you. A part of his brain also recalls occasionally what food you consumed when you were still living in a town and since food is now more important than ever with you gestating his young, he raids towns in his Hound form for food and brings it to you. You don't want to touch food that has been directly touched by his saliva when he spits it out in front of you but you accept canned food which Pluto remembers for his next hunt. Besides his hunt for food and his pursuit of everything that dares to get too close to his den, he spends all of his time wrapped around you. Either in his human or hound form.

🐺You notice that Pluto is confused when you don't give birth within spring and you assume it's because his kind usually gestates young quicker than a human. He whimpers as he presses his nose and ears confused against your swelling stomach as he looks up at you with concerned eyes. You assume that he can sense that the babies are developing fine inside of you as well as that you are healthy which only leaves him majorly confused. You can't help but wonder if you are still growing faster than a normal pregnant human would or if you are actually expecting more than one because you could swear that your stomach looks bigger than it should be already. The only thing you can do for now is wait though. Pluto grows more protective and anxious the more time passes by as his confusion and unease only grow as you don't give birth as well as seeing you starting to struggle as your belly swells and starts hindering you from moving around as much.

🐺As soon as you can confirm first movement and you realise how much movement it is, you can only silently confirm that you are definitely carrying more than one baby. When Pluto sees and feels the movement in your belly too, he lets out a few excited howls and starts licking your belly more from that day on to show you as well as the pups inside more affection. You really wish that he could talk like a normal human whenever he presses his ears against your stomach because you think that with his enhanced senses he might even be able to hear the heartbeat of the babies and can count them. You can only leave the den when he is with you and the more pronounced and rounded your stomach becomes, the more he insists that you ride on his hound form so that you don't tire yourself. He ususally remains in hound form as he watches you cleaning yourself in the river, his ears twitching and turning around with every small rustle and sound.

🐺When autumn arrives and the babies are still not born, his anxiety increases. He frantically starts stealing more food as well as clothes and blankets for you to prepare for winter. He's often wrapping himself around you in his hound form nowadays to keep you and your big belly all the time warm. You expect to give birth soon as you have done the basic calculation and at this rate you can't wait as your stomach has gotten so huge. Your labor starts and your water breaks in early winter as you spend hours upon hours with contractions. Pluto is emotionally just as distraught as you are as he cries and whimpers, licking your sweaty head as he tries to comfort and encourage you as you birth his kids. Nearly a day filled with pain later, you've given birth to three boys, all with his silver hair. If he'd have a tail right now, it would wag like crazy as he lets out what you assume are excited barks as he tenderly chews off their umbilical cord and licks them clean before he carefully pushes all of them against your chest. He pulls a few stolen blankets over his new family before turning into his hound form and wrapping himself protectively around his mate and freshly born litter.

Snake

⚕️Snake is a hybrid himself so chances of him experiencing something akin to mating season aren't unlikely. It will probably not be as strong with Snake who is normally always a more shy and insecure around you but there is an intense need for him during such periods to mate with you and breed. He is conscious of his sexual urges though and generally tries to avoid you during such times. He doesn't want to force the sexual act on you even if all of his snakes try to coax him into believing that he shouldn't resist his nature. Snake refuses though even if temptation is sometimes very strong when he feels the warmth of your body on his skin as his pupils go from their ususal slits to growing, black orbs as he feels his desire flaring up hotly inside his body. Sex during this period of time is rougher as the normally more submissive male becomes more dominate, although he tries to be more careful with you despite essentially being in heat.

⚕️As he eventually calms down from his heat and returns to his normal self, although highly ashamed and apologetic afterwards, his snakes and him soon sense that he has succeeded in what his heat-addled brain wanted to do. You're pregnant. He doesn't know how he should tell you and hesitates for a while. Snake is terrified that you'll be angry with him for impregnating you and also worries that you might reject the child to whom he seems to already form an attachment to. His golden eyes often focus on your stomach as he grows more protective and starts following you around more often. His snakes seem to try to tell you what Snake hesitates to speak out as they wrap themselves around your stomach protectively to protect the precious life inside. You can tell that something is going on but Snake still can't speak up. So far no one besides Sebastian seems to have caught on, the butler telling Snake in an amused tone that he should tell you soon as you are already suspicious.

⚕️He apologizes as soon as he has told you and you can see that he is visibly anxious and nervous for your reaction. At this point you've had your own suspicions already as your period has been late and you've started to experience some typical symptoms like a change of smell. You are a bit unsure because this pregnancy wasn't fully planned even if you were aware of Snake's intentions when you agreed to have sex with him during his heat but you also don't hate the baby and just decide to raise it together with him. Snake is visibly relieved when he hears your answer as his eyes water a bit. He's shaking a bit when he hugs you because he is excited, nervous and anxious all at the same time. Snake seems to be a bit unwilling to share the news initially with Ciel and all the other human servants as he is quite protective but he knows that it's necessary so he soon tells the Earl of Phantomhive about the fact that you're expecting. When Mey-Rin, Bardroy and Finny find out, they're busily congratulating him as well as suggesting names for the baby, even arguing over it.

⚕️Snake feels increasingly more uneasy and worried whenever he has to leave you alone so to not feel as anxious, he always leaves a few of his snakes in your company. All of his animal friends gladly do him the favor of looking out and guarding you and there is always at least one poisonous among those who stay with you. Just to be completely sure that nothing happens to you whilst you are pregnant. So you end up always having one snake gently wrapped around your neck whilst the other one is wrapped around your stomach for as long as it is still possible. Snake gets all flustered when you slowly start developing a baby bump, his hands trembling slightly when he touches your tummy with his hands carefully as if afraid that even the slightest touch could harm the precious life inside. He's more warily than ever when he brings you over to the mansion because all other servants, besides Sebastian, have been kind of asking him if he could let you visit. His snakes have been against it, it's only because you wanted to come over that he yields. He's still cautious and stays alerted because he knows that the servants in this mansion can be quite clumsy and he wouldn't want anything to harm you.

⚕️He has been sensing it for kind of a while now and his snakes have been too but Snake waits for a while to confirm his suspicion as your stomach swells with new life until the first kicks eventually happen. It's then that he can confirm that he has been sensing two lives within you and all of his snakes have done so too. He looks anxious when he tells you this because one child is already such a big responsibility. Two at once is even bigger of a responsibility though and he can't help but worry even if he is also equally as excited. At one point your stomach gets too big for some of his snakes to comfortably wrap around so instead they curl themselves over your stomach comfortably as soon as you sit down or lay in bed. You notice that they are often hissing, their tongue flipping out as their head moves closer to your stretched skin. Snake informs you that they're communicating with the babies inside your stomach and often translates to you what they're saying. Both of you actually wonder if the babies will also be able to understand snakes like he does and judging from the increased movements whenever a snake is talking to them, you like to imagine that they do.

⚕️As happy as Snake is, he's also more prone to insecurities. He's worried that his children might also be made anomalies due to him being their father. He manages to convince Ciel with the huge support of the other free human servants to be given some time off when you approach your due date. He rejects the offer that you could come over to his mansion and give birth in his room as he wants his solitude with you when your water breaks as he prefers to stay in your house. He does accept the offer of letting a midwife stay with you now that you're so incredibly close. He definitely reaches the peak of his protective behavior in those final days when him and his snakes can all sense that it could happen anyday now as he barely leaves you out of his sight. He's not leaving your sight, clutching your hand tightly in his own as soon as your contractions start as if he's the one in need of support, golden eyes observing sharply the midwife from time to time too. You give birth to one boy and one girl and they're surrounded by all of his snakes instantly, the animals determined to protect both of those children. They have some scales littering a few parts of their body but he doesn't care as he tears up when he sees how cute they are.

Dazai Osamu

🤎Dazai wants to start a family with his darling at one point and he has always been hinting at this. Whenever he sees a young family when he’s walking around with you, he jokingly asks you how your children would be if you would have a few. As soon as he sees a pregnant person walking around, he tells you that you’d probably look very cute with a pronounced baby bump that would make you waddle wherever you go and would force you to rely on him for a lot of things. He says all of those things with a harmless and teasing smile on his face yet he also gauges your reaction to his words very closely, brown eyes observing every twitch of your mouth and eyes. Perhaps it would be best for you to have nothing against the thought of children because otherwise you might be succumbed to his manipulation and gaslighting. Jokes eventually turn serious as Dazai makes it clear to you that he desires a child with you, his own hands gently grasping your own as he presses his forehead against your own. Don't you want it too? Leaving a physical trace of your love and adoration on this earth even after your death in form of a sweet child?

🤎Perhaps you should have expected this outcome even if you yourself never desired a child to begin with. As your period doesn't come and as you slowly start experiencing symptoms such as cravings, a suden change in smell as well as nausea you can feel his eyes trailing after you. It's like he has been waiting for signs of pregnancy from you and now that you experience those changes, Dazai starts feeling extremely giddy. He soon goes out to run an errand and asks you to wait for him at home before he leaves, giving you a quick kiss before he does so. When he returns, he has bought a few pregnancy tests and asks you excitedly to take them. He waits in front of the bathroom, although he knocks on the door every few seconds to ask if he can come inside now. As soon as you allow him, both of you wait for the results. When two red lines appear on all of them and confirm that you are indeed expecting, he starts to let out a genuinely happy and excited laugh. Arms wrap gently around your waist and you feel warm lips travel all over your face before he starts spinning and swaying you around whilst humming happily.

🤎Dazai decides to keep it a secret from everyone in his workplace for now and is especially more careful to keep the news away from the Port Mafia. He is no fool, he is aware that at one point they will find out. For now though he just wants to enjoy this special time with you whilst also preparing for the baby. For the first time in a while he seems to become conscious of his own life lifestyle and suddenly he does a 180 now that he knows that a baby will soon live here. Dazai starts cleaning everything, clothes and other stuff that used to lay everywhere randomly is sorted away because he doesn't want you to trip over it. He even makes a list what he needs to buy but he still likes to make spontanous decisions as he goes out with you, a hand always wrapped around you as the both of you buy a crib, diapers and choose babyclothes together. He discovers his fervor as he buys everything even if it threatens to tear a hole in his wallet. Both of you find quickly out during an appointment with a doctor that you are actually having twins and he couldn't be more happy as he showers you in kisses as soon as the news are out. So that means that he can name one child and you can name one too.

🤎He always keeps a picture of the ultrasound pictures in his wallet and whenever he has the time, he just stares fondly at the two little babies in your womb. This is what he'll soon protect and have in his life. He has had his hands on your stomach and even talked to the babies before you were showing but as soon as you start developing a baby bump, he glues himself even more to your side. Hands are always rubbing over your swelling tummy as he all but dotes on you and his two babies. As soon as you are in your second trimester he becomes especially touchy as he eagerly awaits the first kicks of his precious children. It's probably around this time that the other members of the ADA find out about your pregnancy. It's either that they caught him staring at the ultrasound pictures or that Yosano caught sight of the two of you during her shopping trips and connected the dots quickly when she saw your growing belly. Initially his reactions are more careful when all members find out and congratulate him but eventually he becomes more open and starts gushing about how precious and adorable you are with your baby bump and how he can't wait for the babies to be born.

🤎Dazai starts taking pictures of you at one point too because he wants to capture how beautiful and motherly you start looking the bigger you start to grow and is all but cooing and doting on you during this time as you slowly start struggling with the size of your belly. Dazai on the other hand truly starts blossoming as your situation as well as his babies motivate him to take better care of himself because you and the babies need him to take care of them. He helps you with all tasks that start to become more straining for you, he cleans the house, does the laundry and even starts to pick up some meals to cook so that he can prepare them for you as well as for the babies at one point. He always insists to spoonfeed you whenever he cooks something for you, all excited for you to try them. He does keep you on a diet appropriate for your pregnancy but at one time he starts to become so putty in your hands the further along you are that he starts stocking the food that you start craving a lot whilst you are carrying his twins.

🤎He is constantly torn apart between wanting to know the gender of his babies and wanting to keep it a surprise. There were multiple times during appointments with the doctor where he wanted to ask or even at home when he already had his phone in his hands and was about to call them only to change his mind in the last moment. He takes some time off from his work in your last weeks as he yearns to spend those last few weeks with you. It'll be the last time for a long time that both of you will be alone after all. He savors the last bit of your pregnancy, his hands and lips cherishing your big tummy as he spends every waking hour with you. When your labor starts, he decides to wait as he packs everything he thinks you two might need for the hospital all whilst giving you soft kisses in between whenever you feel a contraction. When your contractions come in certain time intervals, he drives with you to the hospital and then he stays there with you, his hand rubbing over your stomach as he asks the twins to not give you too much of a hard time and that he can't wait to meet them. His eyes are filled with nothing but love as soon as you give birth to his daughter and his son as he admires his new family.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

🍎Fyodor has never mentioned anything about children to you for as long as you can remember. And honestly, with the situation you are in with him you have never had the time nor the care to ask him what his opinion of children is. Until Fyodor succeeds in invading your heart and mind and you stop caring about about everything else that isn't him either. Your days from that day on are spend with Fyodor being much more gentle and affectionate with you although sometimes he just needs to ignite the sadistic spark inside of him and see you in pain only to kiss the pain better afterwards whilst uttering sweet nothings to you. You've completely forgotten about thoughts of a child until one day he suddenly brings it up to you whilst you are placed on his lap, his lips brushing against your ear as he asks you how you'd feel about a child. You're a bit surprised but eventually you tell him that you wouldn't mind having a child with him. He gives you a small smile as he replies that he's glad to hear this as you feel one of his cold hands resting on your stomach.

🍎You realise a few weeks later that he must have already known at that time that you were expecting as you are hunched over the toilet again, Fyodor behind you as he caresses your back and your shoulders whilst you throw up. He's sure that it must be uncomfortable but he hopes that you'll get used to it since this might happen more often now that you carry his child. You've already asked him a couple of times before if the child was intended from his side or if it was an accident. All you always get from him is this mysterious smile and a gentle kiss somewhere on your head as he tells you in a low tone that he's happy and that is all that matters. He quickly arranges everything for you and the child. Fyodor can't risk anyone tracking you back to him and possibly go after you now that you are carrying his baby but he is generous enough to know that it would be wiser to have medics assisting you and helping you, especially once you'll give birth to his baby. He's very picky though as he chooses a selected few doctors and midwives to do the ultrasounds and to cater to your and your baby's needs as soon as he has to drive you to the hospital.

🍎His hands caress your stomach gingerly as soon as you start showing as he even starts occasionally talking to the baby, mainly in Russian. He's given you already a nickname in Russian and he gives one to the child inside of you too and always addresses the baby by his chosen pet name when he talks to your stomach. Fyodor wants to find out the gender of the baby soon though so as soon as it is possible to find the sex of the baby out through the ultrasound, he asks the doctor to tell the both of you. A small smile appears on his face when he hears that he'll have a little daughter, his eyes twinkling with pride and fondness whenever he touches your stomach from that point on and talks gently with his litte girl. His sadistic desires completely vanish during your pregnancy because he would never be so cruel to hurt you whilst you carry something so small and pure inside of you. This little girl is a gift from god after all, physical proof that both of you are bound together.

🍎The whole nursery is colored in white and light blue and you don't get much of a say in it. White is the color of purity after all and his daughter will be born pure. She'll be a precious and innocent child, born without any sin tainting her. And light blue to symbolize the clear and blue sky on a day without any clouds hiding it from the human's eyes. The further along you are, the more Fyodor tries to make more time for you instead of spending it scheming and planning his crimes or wasting hours in front of multiple screens. Even whilst he is working, he always has one screen showing him live footage of a camera he has set up in your room for safety. Sometimes he forgets about his work as he instead admires you through the screen. His admiration for his darling definitely grows during the pregnancy. It's so beautiful to see how your body adjusts and prepares for his daughter you grow and nurture inside of you. You are so breathtaking as your belly swells with child and your breasts slowly inflate with milk to nurse the baby as soon as she is born.

🍎The man finds himself low-key starting to worship you and your body as you grow with his child and he admits to you so as he whispers words of affirmation and praises into your ears whenever his arms are wrapped around you gingerly and his hands rub over your stomach soothingly. He has a smug and content grin on his face whenever you tell him that the little girl starts kicking and moving around inside of you whenever he starts talking Russion to her as if she reacts to his voice and his words as his hands instantly rest on your bump to feel her little feet and hands. He always tells you in an almost teasing voice that he's just starting very early to teach her his mother tongue, glad that she seems to react so strongly to him speaking in Russian to her. He chooses a couple of different names for his daughter, all in Russian as well and all of them have some meaning including purity or God in it. He tells you about those names he has chosen so far and asks you which name sounds prettiest to you. You tell him your honest answer although you don't know if he'll actually consider your answer.

🍎He removes himself completely from all of his work when your due date is getting close as he spends all of his time from that point on with you. His purple eyes are always on you as he watches for any sign that you might experience the first signs of early labor. Similar to Dazai, Fyodor decides to wait for a while until your contractions are coming within a certain time. You spend early labor with him as both of you pack everything he thinks you might need whilst in the hospital whilst he softly assures you that even if what is to come might be scary and will be painful, it's the last and ultimate act you have to do in order to bring your beautiful daughter into this world. He has booked a private room for you as soon as he brings you to the hospital because he doesn't want too many people around you and his newborn daughter as soon as she is born. There's only the midwife occasionally checking how far you are dilated, otherwise you are left alone with Fyodor who soothes you as good as he can until they tell you that it's time to push. Fyodor tells them to leave as soon as the baby is safely delivered and cleaned, his eyes focused on his daughter as he tenderly caresses her head.

Jouno Saigiku

♦️Here you are, permanently imprisoned as the government has taken you under special protectionall because Jouno has asked them to do him a favor. You know that this is in reality just a more civilized abduction but no one gives you any help as you are stuck as Saigiku's lover, a doll who can do nothing but wait for him to return from any missions or other business he had to attend to and hope that he won't be in any sadistic mood. You never even thought of any children and you honestly get chills when you think about Saigiku being father to a child, especially if it should be your own. You don't even think that he would want any children if you would have to make a guess based on his possessive behavior he exhibits around you. You barely take notice when your period is a bit late because it wouldn't be your first time that you've missed your menstruation due to the stress you've felt ever since you've been taken. You don't assume anything, not until you see Saigiku's frown as his head tilts into the direction of your stomach.

♦️You can only freeze in shock and confusion when he suddenly leans down and presses his ear against your stomach and before you can even attempt to ask what has suddenly gotten into him, he hushes you as he starts focusing on something. You see his normally smug and composed exterior fading as you see surprise, then shock and eventually unease all appearing on his face before he pulls away. He furrows, appears conflicted before he asks you when you've last had your period and it's his question that makes you realise that you've been quite late by now. You want to ask him why he wants to know before your breath gets caught in your throat as you connect the dots and Jouno can hear that you've caught onto why he asked this. He instantly makes an appointment with the doctor and not too long after he gets the confirmation of what he already knew. You're pregnant, the embryo already having a heartbeat which he is able to detect now. There is a thick silence as soon as the news are out and you look anxiously at Jouno who seems to contemplate the situation right now.

♦️You're surprised when he actually asks you of your opinion on the pregnancy and since he would be able to tell if you would have lied or not anyways, you decide to give him an honest answer. You aren't sure how to feel about this. He seems to think the situation through for the next few days, the second heartbeat he can pick up when he is around you a constant reminder of what is going on inside of you. Eventually he makes the decision to keep the child. You don't know if he would force you to keep the baby even if you were against it but you are still unsure to make up your mind about the situation so whilst you aren't distraught when he announces his decision to you, you also aren't thrilled. Saigiku lets out a sigh when he picks up on your hesitance, one of his hands ruffling your hair gently. He knows that this wasn't the plan but now that this surprise happened you two might as well just make the best of it. He takes your hesitance over any hatred directed against your child though. Jouno just hopes that you'll have made up your mind by the time the child is born. He trusts you to make the right decision.

♦️He would like for this to remain a secret but the other Hunting Dogs find out far too soon for his taste. Fukuchi congratulates him as he pats Saigiku on his shoulder, Teruko is having a laugh imagining Jouno with a toddler whilst Tetchou and Tachibana fret for the way the baby will be raised by Saigiku. Whilst Tachibana at least keeps quiet about it even if Jouno can still pick up clearly on his emotions, Tetchou is a bit more blunt as he openly admits that he is a bit concerned for how Jouno plans to raise his child. Saigiku can only feel his temper rising as this is the precise reason why he wanted to keep your pregnancy hidden for a while longer. How dare he to question his abilities to take care and look out for his own child? Fukuchi stops the two of them before anything grand might happen as Jouno leaves, fuming on the inside. What is probably even worse is that he knows exactly that you think the same way Tetchou does so when he visits you shortly after his argument with Tetchou, he feels the need to make it very clear to you that he wouldn't harm his own child. Honestly, for what kind of sociopath do you take him to even consider such a thing?

♦️You have regular appointments with the doctor to make sure that the baby as well as you yourself are both fine. Truthfully though, Jouno is playing partially a medic too. His enhanced senses to cancel out his blindness cause him to pay very close attention to everything he can pick up. He listens closely to the heartbeat of the baby as it grows stronger and stronger each week and seems a lot more concerned as soon as he notices that you're stressed or anxious. Whenever he notices that your emotions go a bit haywire he quickly walks to you, asking you with a frown on his face if something is wrong. He wouldn't want you to stress yourself too much since it might be bad for the baby as he starts refraining from hurting or scaring you during your pregnancy. He becomes very touchy with you because of his blindness. He can't see you growing round and looking all adorable and he would lie if he would say that he isn't a bit upset about it so instead he feels your pregnancy. His hands are often on your stomach, slowly running over the surface to feel how much you've grown since last week and to imagine what you might look like now.

♦️Since the pregnancy was already a surprise he decides the sex might as well be a surprise until birth as well. He gets some time off before your due date as requested by him and Fukuchi who insists that he gets some time with his new family. Everything is ready by now. From the nursery to the people who will assist you the moment your water breaks as he tells you that you can't just go into a public hospital like this now that you're under his protection and carry his child. You'll have your own special room just for yourself and your own team. Your little daughter isn't born the natural way though as you experience stalled labor throughout the process and suddenly stop progressing as you stop dilating. You decide to wait for a while yet as you still experience contractions without dilating further, the doctor advices that a C-section might be an option and Jouno agrees as he's worried for you and his child. She's still born healthy though as Jouno gets to hold her first, listening to her gentle breath and the sound of her heartbeat. His fingers trace tenderly over her face, trying to imagine what she looks like before he hands her over to you and asks you to describe her to him.

Sigma

☁️Sigma is a person who just came like this into existence by being written into the Book without any way to ever find a reason why he came into existence anyways. He has found his purpose ever since then in you as he has made it his whole point to exist to look after you and to protect you. You are his purpose in life so he can't allow you under any circumstances to leave him which has led you to be permanently stuck in the Sky Casino and even all the gifts and riches he gets you don't do any good yet he still does his best to appease and please you in any way he can. Sigma as the one who has dedicated his entire existence to you will be relatively quick to notice the small changes occuring in you. He notices how you suddenly crave food you've never particularly liked before, he notices how you're suddenly more sensitive around certain smells as well as some headaches. He frets about your health as he wonders what might be wrong with you but it is you who one day approaches him to tell him in a serious tone that you're quite late for your period and that is when he realises what is wrong. It's something he didn't really want to consider.

☁️You can't help but wonder that it should be the other way around as you can see Sigma's whole face twist in fear, anxiety and stress as his eyes widen, his heart starts beating out of his chest and his breath quickening. He looks like he is about to have a meltdown and a panic attack so you try to calm him down as he clutches onto you as soon as he feels your warmth, his palms and forehead covered in cold sweat as you help him to regulate his breathing. As soon as he has regained some semblance of composure he apologizes frantically to you. He-he had no intention to get you pregnant! He's so sorry he should have been more careful with protection! You try to put a stop to his anxious rambling as you inform him that you aren't angry with him or anything. He still apologizes as he informs you that he'll arrange you an abortion if you desire one. You tilt your head at him as you ask him what he actually wants and he insists that he'll do whatever you want him to do in this situation. You fall silent as you consider everything before you tell him that you'd like to keep the child. You see him swallowing nervously as he purses his lips but he eventually gives you a nod.

☁️He spends entire nights reading through every file and online article he can find about pregnancy and memorizes everything in there. From development of the child to the changes your body will undergo to what he can do to make this pregnancy as easy as possible for you. Honestly, he knew before all of this very loosely that unprotected sex would lead to pregnancy but he can't help but be shocked and even slightly disturbed as he reads through everything. The thought of growing an entire life within your womb is so strange but he wasn't exactly created the normal way so perhaps that's why he finds this all so foreign. He insists on knowing the sex of the baby as early as possible as he assigns a few medics to monitor your pregnancy. He needs to order and prepare a nursery after all and instead of constantly second-guessing everything he wants to have delivered, he just wants to know the sex of the baby as early as possible. He still second-guesses everything though because he wants it to be perfect for you and the child so you end up helping him to choose, literally meaning that you say what you like and he buys it without giving his own opinion. Your opinion matters after all.

☁️It's kind of cute when he randomly tells you how big your son is right now if he would be a fruit and what he is already capable of doing within your womb. He's been still somewhat in denial and disbelief up until a certain point that he has gotten you pregnant yet the reality of the situation crashes down onto Sigma when he notices that you start developing a baby bump. He just stares and stares and stares as you start to grow bigger as if still thinking that he is hallucinating yet he can't deny that he's curious. How does your stomach feel now that you're carrying a baby inside of you? He always wonders but never asks. Not until you yourself take it upon yourself to invite him to touch your belly as you have noticed those curious eyes on your belly for a while now. He asks you if he really can before he carefully touches your tummy, amazed by it's roundness and firmess. You find his fascination with your belly cute though. Sigma is perhaps a bit strict with your diet and activity though as he has only the advice of the doctor and the advice online to trust so he is a tad bit controlling because he really doesn't want anything to happen to you whilst you're pregnant.

☁️He's initially bewildered but then quickly intrigued when the baby starts kicking around inside of you. Honestly, he is admiring you for growing another human being inside of you whilst enduring the changes that come with it and the further you are along, the more protective and paranoid he becomes. He's constantly checking the cameras in your room to see how you're doing only to pause and always get so fascinated when he sees how big you have grown already. The more you start swelling and the less foreign and strange the concept of you being pregnant with his child becomes, the more another feeling starts blossoming inside of Sigma. He starts feeling an attachment to his son you're carrying as he starts feeling responsible. Responsible to protect him, cherish him and raise him well. He's going to be a father to your child and as much as this knowledge stresses him, it also makes his heart pound in excitement as he realises that his son will be one more reason and justification for his existence. Sigma will have another purpose to exist as soon as his child gets born.

☁️Besides a few chosen people who Sigma closely monitors, no one else finds out about your pregnancy though. Sigma is too anxious to let anyone else know about it. He's counting days and hours the closer your due date gets as he simultanously worries and marvels over how much you've swollen and changed with his baby developing inside of you and he tries his best to alleviate you of any pressure and pain you might feel by giving you a massage or doing anything you want him to do. He tries and fails to keep his composure the moment your water breaks as he instantly cancels all of his work to instead spend it with you and tells all guards to not let anyone get close to your room. He's sweating, he's hyperventilating and he feels like he's about to suffer a mental breakdown as he watches you going through labor. He's constantly fearing for the worst yet luckily he is disappointed when his boy is born healthy. You fall asleep soon after you've given birth which leaves him pacing back and forth in the room with his son in his arms as he is unable to sit still. His eyes constantly go back and forth between you and the baby, hoping that you'll soon wake up before glancing down amazed at the baby he created.

#yandere black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere pluto #yandere snake #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere bsd #yandere dazai #yandere dazai osamu #yandere fyodor #yandere fyodor dostoevsky #yandere jouno #yandere jouno saigiku #yandere sigma

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beomiracles · 2 months

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HI SERENE :3 okay so first, love the new theme and i LOVED trocyj. it’s genuinely impressive how insufferable you made yj like u had me taking walks around my room out of frustration 😭😭

and also!! i was hoping to place a request :3 so recently i had this dream where soobin and i worked at an ice cream shop and soobin was my coworker who i was also crushing on 🤭 (not to mention the fact that he looked adorable in the pink uniform). during the dream while we were closing he literally like backed me into a corner amd was about to kiss me.. like lips barely grazing each other.. and then i woke up.

so i was hoping maybe u could reimagine it? pick up where the dream left off? and maybe make it a little spicy 😇 thanks again lovie!!

-⛸️

⌞ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 ⌝

DREAM RECALL the closing shift with your far too handsome coworker leaves an even bigger mess to clean than what you had originally started with.

wc -> 2.7k

pairings coworker!soobin x coworker!reader (afab) warnings unprotected sex + pullout method, some fingering, mutual pining kinda?, kind of perv!soobin but also perv!reader, lots of kissing, big dick soobin + size kink

#serene adds ✎ hehe thank you for liking the theme!! and trocyj omg, I could talk about that fic for days.. I see why everyone's pissed with yj but his character was genuinely so much fun to write >.< I'm also like insanely jealous of your dreams because wtf is this. lend me your mind.

I skimmed this once, let me know if I missed anything !

“Ah, no sorry, I’m afraid we’re out of chocolate..” You apologize as you watch the young girl’s face fall. She turns to her mother with a small pout and you bite your lip as you think of a way to salvage the situation. Just as you’re about to suggest the strawberry or mango flavor instead, your colleague's voice cuts you off. — “I’m sure we have some leftovers in the back”, Soobin chirps as he leans over the disk to peer down at the girl, “would you like me to go check?” Her face immediately brightens up as she nods feverishly and her mom gives him a thankful smile.

Upon leaning back up, his large hand brushes past your lower back and you feel your breath hitch at the small touch. “Be right back”, he grins before disappearing through the door leading to the large freezer. — Despite having worked together for nearly three months now, you couldn’t help but do a double take whenever you saw that the two of you would be having the next shift together. Nor could you control the way your heart almost beat out of your chest whenever he as much as glanced in your direction.

It was a hopeless crush that you were not planning on pursuing. Because there was no way that someone like Soobin would even consider someone like you. Not that he had ever mentioned a girlfriend or anything of the sort, or that you had even dared to ask. But you still refused to acknowledge your feelings as anything else besides a small heartthrob.

Not before long, does he re-emerge from the small storage unit, a package of chocolate ice cream in his hands. You find your gaze lingering on his pink uniform, sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you follow their movement when he places the box down. — It isn’t until the mother goes to pay that you’re snapped back to reality, stumbling over your words as you squeak out a quiet, $2.35.

“Here you go”, Soobin smiles as he hands the little girl her cone of ice cream. She giggles as she takes it from him, making a shy comment about him having soft hands. You refuse a small smirk, watching the tip of his ears turn pink as he chuckles.

⸝⸝

As the last customer leaves an hour later, you walk over to flip the ‘OPEN’ sign to ‘CLOSED’. Somewhere behind you, you can hear Soobin shuffling around as he moves the ice cream from the disk by the front and into the freezer in the back. — You had shared plenty of shifts together, but this would be the first time you closed up just the two of you. Without the bustling noise of customers, the air suddenly felt twice as thick and you swallowed a small gulp before joining him behind the counter.

Immersing yourself with popping the lid back onto the containers, you think of something to say, something to break the silence lingering between you. “Here let me help you”, he suddenly exclaims and you almost drop the three boxes in your arms, startled by his sudden appearance. If he noticed it, he didn’t make a comment on the matter, flashing you a small grin as he took two of the now sealed containers from your hands. “T-Thanks”, you stammer, trying your hardest not to let your cheeks flare up at the way his fingers brushed over yours.

"Jesus christ pull yourself together", you mutter as you follow him into the storage room. The cool air in there was refreshing, easily washing off the heat emitting from your flustered body and you exhaled in relief. — You let him go first, watching as he places the ice cream boxes amongst the rest, gaze lingering on the way his forearms flexed as he did. He turns to you with a small grin and you blink a couple of times before springing into action as you walk over to the small corner.

Your hands feel clammy against the container in your tight grip despite the cold temperature of the room. Thinking that he might leave and allow you a minute to yourself to regain your composure, you take your time as you lock up the small freezer in which the ice creams were kept. But there are no sounds of his retreating footsteps, and you can feel his gaze on you the whole time.

It isn’t until you turn around that your heart practically leaps out of your chest. Soobin was standing barely three inches from you, his chest near pressing against your own and your eyes widened as they flickered up to meet his. — You knew that he was tall, like really tall, and there was no mistaking his broad shoulders either. You would be lying if you said that you hadn’t fantasized about his large hands a couple of times, not that you would ever admit it out loud, you think you would rather face death itself.

But when this close, the back of your thighs hitting the cold steel of the freezer behind you, with nowhere to escape, you suddenly felt very small in front of him. He doesn’t say anything, biting the inside of his cheek, Soobin leans closer, so close that you could feel his warm breath hovering above your lips. — What was going on?

His gaze doesn’t stray from yours as he reaches a hand up to your face. Your eyes flutter closed at the sudden invasion of your personal space. Thinking that he might just actually kiss you, your heart almost beats out of your chest, the sound thumping in your ears like that of a heavy bass. But he doesn’t. Instead of grazing your cheek, just like you thought he would, his fingers aim for your hair as he brushes through it. Your eyes reopen, this time in slight confusion as you frown.

“You had something…in your hair”, he murmurs before letting his hand drop to his side. “O-Oh”, you breathe, running your own fingers through your locks as embarrassment flushes over your cheeks. He takes a step back and you feel your stomach drop, beyond ashamed over your obvious overreaction to the small gesture. — You don’t dare move as you watch him head for the door once more. God he would never want to work with you ever again.

It isn’t until one of his hands wraps around the handle that he stops. Still unmoving, you shift awkwardly by the freezer as you eye his tall frame, seeing him shake his head as he mutters something under his breath. — Then he turns around, the action so quick that you barely comprehend what’s happening until he’s in front of you again. Except this time he’s all over you, chest pressing against yours, his large hands easily covering the sides of your face as he pulls your lips to his.

He kisses you roughly, as if he was trying to convey a thousand words with a single move. Gripping on to the freezer, your eyes widen as your mind tries to process what was happening. But he’s quick to pull back, his breathing is labored when does. — “Fuck I’m sorry I… I just”, he cuts himself off with a sharp inhale, taking a small step back as he lets go of your face. “Look I.. I don’t know what came over me I just–”

But you won’t hear any of it. Shaking your head, one of your hands snake around his neck, pulling him back down as you force your mouth onto his again. This time there’s no hesitation from either of you as his hands quickly find your waist. Pushing you further onto the cooler behind you, Soobin wastes no time in squeezing himself between your spread legs. “H-ah, been wanting to do this for so long”, he groans, and you sigh against his lips as his tongue finds yours.

Wait. Did he just say that he’s been wanting to do this? Then that would imply… All those lingering touches, the small grins, the quick glances.. Your mind was reeling with the newfound information and your hands quickly braced themselves on his shoulders as you pulled back for a short second. — Upon breaking apart from the kiss, Soobin looks at you, a flash of worry striking his features, almost as if he had done something wrong.

You quickly try to ease his nerves, “I…I’ve been wanting to do this too”, you quietly mumble, biting your lip as the color on your cheeks only rises. His tense face immediately relaxes as he lets out a short sigh of relief. “Oh thank god”, he murmurs, his hands gliding along your thighs as he pushes your pink uniform up. — “Wait”, your fingers around his wrists stop him and his eyes flit to yours with a hint of concern. “We can’t…I mean.. not here”, you whisper, throwing an anxious glance around the small storage room.

“You locked the entrance, right?” He wonders, head tilted to the side as he studies you intently. Slowly nodding, you’re still not entirely convinced. “Then we’re good, yeah?” He says in a somewhat smug voice, his fingers drawing small circles on the skin between your thighs, creeping higher with each passing second. You consider his words carefully, he did have a point, there were just the two of you here right now, and it was past working hours.

Oh who were you kidding? You’d had a crush on the guy for nearly three months now and here he was, openly asking for what you had been longing to do for so long. There was no way you’d pass him up. With a short nod you let him reconnect your lips as his fingers quickly move to glide across the already drenched fabric of your panties. You felt him smirk against your mouth as you squirmed beneath him.

“Fuck, how long have you been this wet for me?” He asks as his hand slips inside your underwear, index and middle finger circling your throbbing clit. You bite back a small whimper as your nails dig into his broad shoulders, tearing his pink uniform under their grasp. “Three months”, you breathe, and you immediately feel his hand stutter against you. “Fuck.” Is all he says before immediately shoving two fingers inside of your aching cunt, “we’d better change that.”

In one swift motion he wraps your legs around his waist, groaning as your hand trails down his chest to palm and grope him through his jeans. — It felt almost like a fever dream, having the guy you had fantasized about for so long right in front of you, his fingers knuckle-deep into your core as he drew lewd moans from you.

When he pulls himself free from his pants, you gulp as you take in the size of him. Sure you had expected him to be big, given his height, but this was… He quickly catches on to your hesitation as his lips part, “if you don’t want-” — “It’s fine”, you give him a reassuring smile which he reciprocates before lining himself up, only to be stopped by you once more.

“Do you have a condom?”

He freezes, and it doesn’t take a genius to guess his answer. A small silence falls over the two of you, the sounds of your heavy breaths filling the storage unit. Soobin clears his throat, awkwardly readjusting the grip on his cock as his gaze avoids yours. “Maybe we should..” he trails off but you don’t need to hear the rest in order to know what he was thinking. But come on, you had waited three months for this. You couldn’t just let the opportunity slip through your fingers just like that.

“No, it’s fine. You’ll just pull out, yeah?”

His eyes snap up to meet yours the second those words leave your lips. “Yeah.” He agrees, his free hand wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer, the tip of his cock sliding against your folds, nudging your clit in a way that almost made you squeal. “I’ll pull out”, he mumbles, more to himself than you before slowly easing himself inside.

The stretch was near torturous and your nails practically tore his shirt in half as you braced yourself against him. “You okay?” He sounds almost alarmed but your quick nod makes him relax. — Once fully inside of you, he stays unmoving, littering you in soft kisses, trailing from your jaw down your neck and collarbone. His fingers twist at the small lace, neatly sewed into your pink uniform. “You look so pretty in this”, he sighs against your skin, inhaling the perfume you always used, the one that always seemed to get his mind to wander whenever you were around.

He moves slowly, his thrusts deliberate as his cock slides against every inch of you and you whine in ecstasy. The dull burn flaring within you was now replaced by an almost addicting sensation. “Fuck, you’ve really got to stop bending over the counter like that, anyone could see up your skirt”, he grunts, snapping his hips against yours, making your eyes roll back as your jaw slacks.

“R-Really?” You stammer, though you knew exactly what you were doing as you so often would purposefully lean forward enough to where you felt your clothes lift, hoping that he would see. Originally, it had been for your own pleasure, not thinking that Soobin was actually going to pay attention to your subtle movements. But he did, he picked up on every single one of them.

“Yeah”, he drawls, upping his pace as the hand around your waist pulls you impossibly closer. “God you don’t know how many times I’ve had to jack off in the bathroom to the thought of you.” — “Fuck, is that weird to say?” He wonders, and you shake your head, gasping as his thumb rubs against your clit. “N-Not at all”, you whine, thighs squeezing around his waist as you clenched on his cock, making his breath hitch.

“Mhn, I.. I do too”, you shyly admit, catching the smirk that etched its way to his face in a mere second as he pressed his lips to yours. “That’s so fucking hot”, he groans into your mouth. The kiss quickly grows sloppy and wet, his thrusts transitioning into uneven and jagged jerks of his hips. — “I won’t forgive myself if I don’t have you cumming on my cock.” He states, pulling your lip between his teeth as he refocuses his attention to his fingers on your clit.

Up until this point you had thought that this might as well all just have been one big dream. A big prank that your far too imaginative mind was trying to pull on you. But as your orgasm washes over you, your throbbing cunt clenching around Soobin’s cock, undoubtedly buried deep inside of you, you realize that this was most definitely not a dream. His name falls from your lips as your nails cause rippings to the pink fabric of his work uniform. Somewhere in the background you can hear him uttering small words of praise, the sound is muffled by the feeling of euphoria coursing through you like electric shockwaves.

With a small hiss, he pulls out, and your hand reaches for him before you have the chance to think twice. Wanting, no needing, to feel him between your fingers, your fingers that barely manage to wrap around his cock. You pay the wicked smirk on his face no mind as you stroke him to his high, letting him soil your work attire without as much as a second thought. Hot liquid landing on both your hand and stomach as Soobin groans into the juncture of your neck.

Once you’ve both regained your composure, he pulls back to look at you. From his dazed expression to the way his blonde hair stuck to his forehead, or his wet lips as they stretched into a grin, you found him to be more handsome than ever. — His gaze drops to your lips before flitting back up to your eyes, the tip of his ears turning pink as he clears his throat.

“So uh, think I can get your number?”

taglist ✎... @theresawtf @jjklvr9 @binniebakery @beomies-world @hyukaa @ninoshome1 @gardnhee @babymochibeargyu @lunathewritingcat @duckywuckypookiepie @naoristerling @oddracha @soohashits @junimoa03 @sendhelpiloveyeonjun @beomtasticc @369girlswannadrinkwine @gudboibeomgyu @flowzel @lit1esec @hwanghyunjinismybae @inkigayocamman @sthwaaberry @izzyy-stuff @silentisle @unknowzzn

(if your tag is not working please check your settings to make sure that your blog is not hidden!)

#beomiracles ₊˚⊹ ᰔ #soobin x reader #soobin x you #soobin smut #binnie's dreams #Choi Soobin x reader #Choi Soobin x you #txt smut #txt imagines #txt scenarios #soobin imagines #soobin scenarios

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ctrlhope · 5 months

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— Rest, Relax, Reserve ⊹ Series M.List

⭔ : Welcome in! Here at the Humbolt Insect Hybrid Conservation Park, we implore all of our guests to experience the wonderful world of hybrids living in their natural habitats! Feel free to interact with any hybrids that may approach you— however, please keep in mind that this is a no-touch park, these are wild animals after all. Please stay safe, stick to the trails, and enjoy your stay!

Please note: we are not responsible for any risks associated with entering our parks. Keep this in mind when exploring.

Information Board

⭔ : warning! most stories on this list are yandere-themed, meaning they may have elements of dark content in them. all have mature content within them as well. please read all warnings before reading each one!

⭔ : a/n! this series has spawned from my entomology class this semester! so enjoy a lot of useless facts about arthropods while falling in love with hybrid bts <33

⭔ : status! ongoing -> last update: The Pitfalls of Silk

Kim Seokjin

⊹ ׁ ݂┊ ⭔ species: blue morpho butterfly

⊹ ׁ ݂┊ ⭔ classification: arthropoda, insecta, lepidoptera

-> information this species not found! check back later?

Min Yoongi

⊹ ׁ ݂┊ ⭔ species: yellow fattail scorpion

⊹ ׁ ݂┊ ⭔ classification: arthropoda, arachnida, scorpiones

-> information this species not found! check back later?

Jung Hoseok

⊹ ׁ ݂┊ ⭔ species: warrior wasp

⊹ ׁ ݂┊ ⭔ classification: arthropoda, insecta, hymenoptera

-> information this species not found! check back later?

Kim Namjoon

⊹ ׁ ݂┊ ⭔ species: honey bee

⊹ ׁ ݂┊ ⭔ classification: arthropoda, insecta, hymenoptera

-> information this species not found! check back later?

The Pitfalls of Silk ⊹ Park Jimin

⊹ ׁ ݂┊ ⭔ species: cobalt blue tarantula

⊹ ׁ ݂┊ ⭔ classification: arthropoda, arachnida, aranea

-> The winter gods are out to get you. That could be the only possible explanation for the series of bad luck tumbling before you— tropical vacation cancelled, snow locking you inside. Hell, even your shovel broken in half has got to be the gods playing some sort of trick on you. Pulling you along, making decisions for you as they guide you along the red string of fate. Guide you towards the very spider that found his way into your basement. Allowing him to fall into your heart all the same.

— bites: 01

Kim Taehyung

⊹ ׁ ݂┊ ⭔ species: domestic silk moth

⊹ ׁ ݂┊ ⭔ classification: arthropoda, insecta, lepidoptera

-> coming soon . . .

Jeon Jungkook

⊹ ׁ ݂┊ ⭔ species: black garden ant

⊹ ׁ ݂┊ ⭔ classification: arthropoda, insecta, hymenoptera

-> information this species not found! check back later?

⭔ : consider buying me a kofi <3

⭔ : disclaimer: all members of bts are face and name claims for all works on this blog. the pieces on this blog are entirely fictional and are in no way meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. any representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

#rest relax reserve masterlist #bts x reader #bts masterlist #hybrid bts #yandere bts

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brooklynisher · 2 months

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Hey all, you ever hear of Jaunty?

[x]

Do you WANT to learn more about Jaunty?

Well I dug deep, and found some things I never thought I could find. I'm really excited to share what I've found with y'all. This post is sort of a little journey of how I found Jaunty.

There's a few sections to this.

Skip to But where does Jaunty come from? If you just want answers

Is Jaunty even a real character?

Jaunty, from what I originally found, is SUPPOSEDLY a Steam Powered Giraffe character. But where have we seen this character before? Was it the comic? Was it the timeline? Maybe in a song cover? Does the band ever talk about Jaunty?

And to answer all of your questions, no! At least not that I knew of. The only source of Jaunty’s existence is here.

The Steam Powered Giraffe Wiki

So that makes this whole thing pretty complicated right? The wiki has info, and it’s not too inaccurate most of the time, but some of the lesser known/more nuanced information tends to get scuffed.

It really doesn’t help knowing that David has mentioned before that the information on the wiki wasn't that accurate.

What I’m saying is, the only proof we have for the existence of this character is on what might be one of the more unreliable sources of SPG information.

But despite that, this page is special in the fact that SUPPOSEDLY it was uploaded by Steam Powered Giraffe themselves!

[x]

However, there isn’t really much of any information on this user at all. All we know is that they founded this wiki, added a few characters and a bit of information, and then became inactive. Really our biggest reasoning for believing that this was an actual SPG member is the fact that they are the founder and have been around for a very long time.

Okay, suspicions aside, let’s see what I found about this thing.

What the wiki tells us

One, this image was touched by the founder of this wiki twice, it was uploaded in 2011, and in 2014 they protected the page, which means only the administrators can edit the page.

[x]

Both are pretty major years for SPG being the year Upgrade left the band and the year Rabbit transitioned, but there’s not many connections you can make with that.

This user was first active in 2010 and last seen in 2015 [x]

Cool dates to have, but not a lot to work with. It mainly gives us a clear vision of what SPG was looking like at the time of the creation of this page. I can see this thing being used for a special, slightly themed show.

Of course, the information the wiki alone offers is very limited, but we know two things for sure. One, this character is a robot being under the category of robots, and two, these photos were taken by Cineria.

[x]

So, here's the problem, you'd think that by having the name of the photographer, we could get far with that, but unfortunately, it is such a vague name, that there is just no way we could figure out who Cineria actually is. It really doesn't help that they don't seem to be a professional photographer. The only page I could find that connects both the name Cineria and Steam Powered Giraffe is this one.

Useless information

I started searching for stuff by reverse searching it. It wasn't really successful, as I was expecting, but I did find one thing.

A different source.

This source doesn't go anywhere must you know. The ORIGINAL site, florist.buketbunga.com is still up an active serving as an Indonesian site for selling flowers, but this very specific link is broken, and the Wayback Machine doesn't know a thing about it.

The good news is, the link title alone gives us a ton of stuff to work with! Appropriately, the last part of this link translates to "Flower Bouquet Florist Shop Address Nearest 24 Hours Online", which makes sense.

What DOESN'T make sense is everything else coming before it. Specifically the Team Fortress 2 Wiki. This made me believe that someone used these sites to create a scam link, but it's weird because somehow, it's relevant?

Yandex was able to match these images of Jaunty to this site, and what's crazier, Jaunty is in the title of the link! But it's not just Jaunty, it's the Jaunty Explorer.

I did some searching, and discovered that the Jaunty Explorer originates from a TF2 livestream charity event called Tip of the Hats! Donations can earn you medals known as the Jaunty Explorer ($10 Donations), the Jaunty Ranger ($30 Donations), and the Jaunty Mountaineer ($100 Donations). They can come in many different color variations, but here are the main ones.

[x] [x] [x]

There are TWO connections between this and SPG. One, the shared name of Jaunty, and two, hats. Steam Powered Giraffe is pretty big on hats. But, bad news, these are completely unrelated. Main reasoning? The image of Jaunty was posted to the wiki back in 2011, while Tip of the Hats as an event started back in 2013. Can't even take the "SPG was inspired by TF2" route with that.

Okay, but what even IS it?

Now we get into the visual aspect of this!

I tried to see if there was at least any way to identify what this is, but that solely relies on observational skills. There are two images of this thing, but the image with the blue background is much easier to make out.

[x]

There's a lot that's going on with the design of Jaunty. Unfortunately, I'm not smart enough to identify what half of the doodads are. This machine, whether it's an actual machine or just a prop, is definitely a one of a kind as I couldn't find anything like this.

I talked with @boneinator about this, and he was able to read the text: "STAND CLEAR!" on the top of the doors of this machine which lead him to believe that it might be a time machine of sorts.

What we both managed to agree on when it came to the design of this thing however, was that it looks like a cabinet.

Now, like I said, this thing has a one of a kind design, so it's not going to look exactly like one thing or another, but it has similar features to other things such as to this cabinet

[x]

Two longer doors on the upper half, and two smaller doors/drawers on the bottom. Is that actually what it is? I didn't know, but there is a resemblance.

One thing that's REALLY interesting about this machine is the intense amount of steam it lets out.

[x]

So it's definitely a very active machine.

But where does Jaunty come from?

Something I've been wondering is how much of this is actually connected to SPG.

Is it theirs? Is this a part of a bigger thing? Is it just associated with them?

A bigger thing. There is one example of a big SPG show that comes to mind, and it was not just them.

During their 15 Year Anniversary Livestream, the band was asked about their favorite memories. Bunny mentions that one of her favorite memories was at a show called Clockwork Vaudeville. This was one of the band's first time having a massive audience. According to her, this was a time traveling show, and they performed alongside others.

I looked into it and found that the full name of this performance is called Clockwork Vaudeville Circus Cabaret. And there, I found a little advertisement for it as well!

youtube

The Kickstarter for this show started in late 2010

I did some more searching and realized there is a bunch of video from this show out there though all these clips are recorded at random intervals. Assuming that the uploader posted these clips close to the date of the actual show, we can see that this show took place in February of 2011!

About one month after this show, this page was added to the wiki.

I checked the clips, and guess what.

[x]

Right there in the corner, there was Jaunty.

But that's not all

Not only have a found a video that contained Jaunty, I found a video that contained Jaunty in action!

[x]

Unbelievably enough, it was a video of the band performing Honeybee alongside a pole dancer. And thanks to the title, we now know that this show took place February 19, 2011

Which all this confirms 100% that Jaunty IS a time machine.

Now with all things considered, Jaunty is not necessarily an "SPG character" as in they didn't create it. It's hard to say if Jaunty is even a character at all at this point! But it does exist in their world and they actively interact with it!

Who cheered? I cracked the code!

#so hyped about this you guys don't even know #steam powered giraffe #spg #my stuff #spg info #vintage!rabbit #tw michael reed #jaunty spg #big post yall

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thetriumphantpanda · 11 months

Text

I'll Crawl Home To Her | Marcus Pike

Fic Summary | Marcus Pike had been the man of your dreams until a promotion tore your away from him. Four years later, a wedding brings you back together, but it the bubble you've built over this one weekend going to crash and burn just like it did before?

Pairing | Marcus Pike x Bridesmaid F!Reader

Fic Warnings | Explicit. Exes to Lovers, themes of second chance love, references to food and alcohol, descriptions of a wedding, Marcus Pike being a dirty talking menace, talk of contraception, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, semi-public sex, oral sex (F), overstimulation if you squint, allusions to oral sex (M) and mentions of a facial cumshot, mutual pining, flirting, two idiots in love, a touch of angst, basically two idiots who never got over each other have a lot of sex over a weekend.

Word Count | 7.9K (I can only apologise lmfao)

Authors Note | So, two weekends ago I was a bridesmaid and spent the entire time messaging @undercoverpena about how I wished Marcus Pike would whisk me away to the bathroom, tell me how pretty I was and give me a good time.... and this is what's come of this. Entirely self-indulgent but we love that for me sometimes. If you enjoy this, please consider commenting or reblogging - I'd love to know what you think of it! And if you'd like to support me further, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

Moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only - reader is a blank slate. Although if you're interested in the dress I chose for her - it's this.

Divider by the amazing @saradika

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” Marcus is still out of breath as he clutches the champagne flute in his hand, chest heaving as his sucks in air to his lungs, “I didn’t mean to be so late.”

“Marcus, buddy, it’s fine,” His friend puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, he knows Marcus gets anxious when things outside of his control happen, like the delay to his flight from D.C. to London, and then the delay in getting from London to the wedding venue, “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

Marcus nods, chugging down half the champagne in one go, hoping it’ll calm his anxiety a little. He had cursed Mike and Cassie for choosing to have their wedding in England, but Mike’s family, most of them ageing now and unable to make the long trip to D.C. had insisted on it. As he looks around the large reception room, he muses internally to himself that it was beautiful. A huge room, semi-decorated for tomorrow’s reception and dinner. It’s a smaller affair tonight, immediate family and friends for the rehearsal dinner, but he can imagine that tomorrow, once all is said and done, it’ll be the perfect backdrop for their wedding.

“Where’s Cassie?” Marcus asks, looking around the room, finding a distinct lack of the bride and the bridal party Mike hadn’t shut up about over the last few months.

“She’s just sorting the last of the decorations for the ceremony room,” Mike explains, waving a hand to the waitress currently doing the round with a refilled tray of champagne, “She’ll be here soon.” He finished with a wink, which, although is odd, Marcus doesn’t question, just picks up another glass of champagne and stands talking to his friend and whoever is milling around offering their congratulations.

There’s a flurry of conversation that has Marcus turning around a few minutes later, he can see Cassie and her mother, who are pulled to the side by someone from the venue holding up two different types of ribbon, asking which one they want to drape around the columns and which one to tie around the chair backs. It’s not Cassie that Marcus is interested in though, it’s the bridesmaid that follows behind her.

He can feel his throat constrict, a small pit opening in his stomach that’s somewhere between the feeling of dread and excitement. He can feel the palms of his hands starting to get clammy, so he drains his glass and sets it down on the nearest table to avoid an accident. Then, he thinks he might actually pass out when you finally look at him, eyes searching his face and then the glimmer of recognition that you know exactly who he is, remember exactly the last time you’d seen him, and exactly what had happened when you had.

Your leg is bouncing underneath the dining table, food somewhat eaten regardless of the fact that it’s your favourite. You’ve dug half-moon shapes into the palms of your hands and bitten the inside of your mouth enough to taste blood.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” It’s Marcus, sitting across from you, plate cleared, completely oblivious as to what’s about to come.

“I got offered a promotion.” You tell him simply, running one hand up and down your opposite arm in an attempt to soothe yourself.

“Darling!” He exclaims, “That’s amazing!” He doesn’t move to get up, but reaches his hand out, palm up for you to take, which you do, letting his hand softly clasp yours in his own, “Why are you so upset then?”

Taking a deep breath in, biting your bottom lip, you decide it’s best to rip the band-aid off sooner rather than later, “It’s not here, Marcus,” You sigh, “The job is in D.C.”

The smile, the light of his eyes, everything on his face that had just seconds ago been showing joy, had faltered. Much like you imagine your face would have when you’d been offered the job. A significant pay rise, governmental opportunities, bigger clients, a shot at being a proper lawyer for once, but with the caveat that you had to uproot your comfortable Austin life for D.C. and with it, Marcus Pike.

“I don’t have to go,” You follow up with, “I haven’t accepted yet, I’ve got some time to think.”

You feel him squeeze your hand, his other palm coming out to rest on your wrist, slowly tracing the blue veins he can see there, “Look at me,” He asks softly, which you do, the tears that had been forming in your own eyes starting to spill down your cheeks when you find Marcus’ eyes glassed over too, “Baby, this is such an amazing opportunity, you can’t say no because of me.”

Because that’s what you would be doing. Marcus, brilliant, funny, intelligent Marcus, wouldn’t be able to follow you to D.C. There had been some talk about his work in the Art Crimes team with the higher ups, people who were impressed at his success rate, people who wanted to keep him here, send him off to California even. He was at too much of a crossroads to be able to follow you to D.C.

“I don’t want to lose you though,” You sniff, free hand coming to wipe away some of the tears that are falling from your eyes, “I love you.”

Marcus hums, finally pushes himself off his chair, letting the legs scrape across his kitchen floor, until he’s sat right in front of you, knees touching, his palms on the tops of your thighs, warm and soothing, “I love you too,” He says, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek, making sure you’re looking at him, “But this is what you’ve wanted, you’ve been working so hard baby and I’m not going to let you stay here just because of me.”

It’s killing you inside, because you want so badly to ask him to follow you. To drop everything and come to D.C. You’ve been together two years, you’re comfortable together, he makes you so happy, you’ve talked about moving in together, starting a life together, but you know deep down you’re asking him to do something unfair.

“So, I guess your stance on long-distance relationships hasn’t changed?” You ask, tone soft and sad, tears falling down your cheeks.

You watch him as his own tears fall, his hands clutching your own so tightly as he gives you a soft smile, “Baby, I wish I could say yes, I wish I could drop it all and follow you, or promise you we’d talk on the phone every day and see each other every weekend, but you know we can’t do it.”

Biting at your lip, you nod, because you know he’s right. You’re a lawyer, you barely have free time as it is - weekends more often than not spent sat on the couch with him, tapping away at your laptop whilst he looks over case files. It would never work.

Marcus leans forward, presses a kiss to your forehead, then pulls you into a hug. You clutch your hands to his back, inhaling the smell of him on his shirt , watching the light blue turn darker as it catches your tears.

“When do you go?” He asks quietly into the crook of your neck, soft kiss placed to the skin right after.

“A few weeks, probably.”

“Well, let’s enjoy them while we still can, hey?” You nod silently, “And maybe one day, we’ll find each other again.”

“And maybe one day, we’ll find each other again.”

Those words still echo in your ears four year later, like they have at various different points since you last saw Marcus Pike. Leaving had been hard. He’d helped you pack everything up, driven you to the airport, kissed you before security and promised he wouldn’t forget you. You’d text a for a few weeks before life dragged you in one direction and him in another. No-one had quite been able to live up to him either. Sure, you’d tried dating, seen people for a few months before deciding they weren’t quite the man who had almost been able to give you everything you ever wanted.

And now here he is, standing in front of you, pale as a ghost as if he’s about to keel over and have a heart attack. You want to run to him, to fling yourself into his arms and make sure he’s real. You want to press your lips to his, let him kiss you like he always used to, to clutch you to his body and whisper sweet things into your ear, but you have no idea what he’s been doing these past four years - for all you know, you could get closer and find a wedding band across his left finger.

It’s a blessing when Cassie’s hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you over to the side.

“Do you prefer the dusky rose or the blush pink?” She asks, holding up two ribbons that look identical to your eye.

You want to tell her does it really matter, they both look exactly the same. You want to tear your wrist away from her and go to Marcus, but instead you settle for a warm smile and “It’s your wedding Cass, you choose what you want.”

And when you turn around, looking back over to Mike, Marcus Pike is nowhere to be found. Like he was a mirage. A figment of your hopeful imagination. Something conjured up after your mother had set you down at the airport and said, “Bridesmaid’s always get lucky at weddings, you might find your own husband.”

When everyone is called to sit down for the rehearsal dinner, you jump at the opportunity to let Cassie sit down and eat, whilst you get pulled away by the staff to advise on which candles to use for the ceremony room and where exactly to place the flower arch for the best photos tomorrow. When you make it back, everyone is standing, milling around, getting drinks from the bar, which you decide you desperately need.

“A negroni, please.” You ask for after taking a few seconds to peruse the cocktail menu set out. The stronger the better.

“I see your tastes haven’t changed in the last few years.”

You’re pretty sure that if there was a mirror in front of you, the look of shock on your face would be comical, as Marcus Pike sidles up to the bar next to you. Up close, he’s just as handsome as he always had been, except now, he’s got a beard and more fine lines in the corners of his eyes, which means he’s been happy, smiling, whilst you’ve been gone. It makes your heart swell that he’s been happy.

“I wonder if yours have.” You counter, tilting your head towards the bartender who is waiting for him to order.

“Just a beer for now.” He smiles, but at you, not the bartender.

“That’ll be a no then.”

There’s a moment of silence between the both of you as you sip the cocktail given to you, and Marcus takes a swig of his beer. His left hand is wrapped around the bottle, no sign of the wedding ring you were convinced you’d find. You want to say something, anything, but when you go to open your mouth, he beats you to it.

“You look well.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Of all the things he could have chosen to say to you, you hadn't thought it would be that.

“So do you.” You compliment back.

There’s another silence, the two of you just looking at each other. You’re soaking him up, committing him to memory to replace the old Marcus you knew so well.

“Are you here alone?” You ask, playing with the glass in your hand.

You watch as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, “Are you?”

“I asked you first, Agent Pike.”

He tilts his head towards his shoulder in a movement that says he’ll give you that one, “I’m here alone.”

You can’t help but smile a little, biting at your bottom lip to try and hide how pleased you are, “So am I.”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you notice the exact moment those brown eyes that you’re so used to getting lost in darken, watching you as you sip your drink, tip of your tongue jutting out to catch a drop from your bottom lip.

“Is your room completely over the top?” You ask, watching as he swallows deeply, “Because mine is, I’d love to know what the honeymoon suite must be like.”

“Depends what you mean by completely over the top?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to show you?”

He doesn’t even respond. He sets his half-finished beer down on the bar, takes your almost-empty negroni from your hand and does the same. Then he’s taking hold of your hand, lacing your fingers together like he always did, dragging you out of the room. You turn to find Cassie and Mike, looking at you both as you have to jog to keep up with Marcus’ pace. Both of them are winking, smiling, and Mike even throws a thumbs up your way. You can feel heat rising on your cheeks as you turn your head away from them.

“Which floor?” Marcus asks then you reach the grand staircase in the lobby.

“Second.”

He doesn’t let go of your hand, but takes the stairs two at a time, meaning by the time you reach the second floor, you’re out of breath from running behind him, trying to keep up.

“Which room?”

It’s your turn to lead him now, stepping in front of him to walk down the hallway to room 212. You fish the keycard from the back pocket of your jeans, wasting no time in pushing the door open when the tiny light turns green.

It’s dark inside, but you don’t care. Marcus Pike pins you against the wall, his thigh between your legs, both hands on your waist, and then his lips are on yours. The way he kisses hasn’t changed a bit. His mouth slants over yours, softly at first, but when you open your lips against his, hands clutching at the collar of his shirt, it’s just like you remember from all those years ago. He tastes the same, mint from the gum he always chews, the tang of the beer on his tongue, and that distinct taste that’s just him.

He swallows a groan from you as your pitch your hips down, denim rubbing on denim as he devours your mouth. His hands on your waist trail down just a little, finding the top of your jeans, floating under your shirt just a little to touch the bare skin underneath. His hands are warm and strong as they start guiding you to move against his thigh as his tongue works against yours.

Marcus pulls away from your mouth just as a particularly breathy moan leaves your mouth. It makes you both stop. Stand still. Eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room as you both realise exactly what’s happening. You know you should stop, talk about what’s clearly about to happen, but when did talking ever help anything.

“Don’t think about it,” Marcus sighs, leaning down to trail kisses along your jaw, “We talk after.”

“We talk after.” You say, mainly to the room more than anything else.

Your hands are still clutching at his shirt when his fingers find the button on your jeans. Still as adept at it as he’d always been, he pops the button open and pulls down the zipper, letting his hand trail down, settling across the lace of your underwear, cupping your pussy, letting his fingers trace along skin through lace.

A hiss leaves your mouth as you work your body in time with the slow, teasing movements of Marcus’ hand, “You’ve changed,” You manage to breathe out, your hand coming to the back of his neck to pull his mouth nearer to yours, “When you were desperate for me you’d never tease.”

You can feel his lips smile against the skin of your neck where he’s tracing wet kisses along the skin, hand still feather-light between your legs, “I’ve learnt to be more patient, honey.”

“And if I asked you not to?”

“In all the years I knew you, never once did you beg for it.” He pulls back, your eyes now accustomed to the dark, able to see him better, his voice is low, “Unless you’ve changed, you’ll have to put up with it.”

You grasp his cheeks in your palms, his hand still teasing you, pull his attention to you fully, “Marcus Pike, I swear to all that is holy that if you do not spread me out on my bed and fuck me in the next five minutes, I will die.”

He makes a ‘tsk’ sound, his head shaking in your hands, “That’s not begging for it honey,” He coos, “You gotta ask nicely for it.”

You let out a grumble of frustration, but you have to admit, this new version of the man you knew so well before is enticing. You can feel the way wetness is settling between your thighs, you’re sure if he dipped his fingers down he’d have some smart comment about how soaked you were for him already.

So you swallow your pride, you know it’ll be worth it in the end, “Please.”

“Good girl.”

It all happens in a flurry. One moment you’re against the wall, the next your back is against the mattress, Marcus’ hips pressed to yours as his hands work to push your shirt up and off your body. Your back hits the mattress again and his mouth is on you almost instantly, his lips trailing down your sternum, between the valley of your breasts. Pushing himself back on his knees, he brings his hands to the cups of your bra, pulling them down. Your nipples pebbling against the cold of the air.

His lips are back on you almost immediately, nipple enveloped into the warmth of his mouth, tip of his tongue flicking at it, making your back arch off the bed, pressing further into his mouth. Your hand comes to tangle in the curls at the back of his head, anchoring him to your body. As his mouth works across your chest, you can’t quite believe what’s happening to you. The man of your dreams, the person you always thought you were destined for, back, right here between your thighs, the bulge in the front of his jeans all too familiar to you.

Head tipped back in pleasure, you breathe out into the air, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

He tears off your breast with a wet pop, looking up at you through his lashes, mouth kissing down your body, across the soft of your tummy, he taps at your sides, lifting your hips up to drag your jeans and underwear down your legs, flung behind him and forgotten when you plant the flat of your feet onto the bed and let your knees fall open.

Marcus isn’t a religious man, he never has been, but knelt between your thighs, hands flying to rid himself of his clothes, watching as you gingerly trail your hand between your thighs, eyes on him as you play with your clit, he thinks he might have to start believing. As he stands to take the last of his clothes off, standing at the foot of the bed, naked with his cock in his hand, watching your face, he thanks the Lord for whatever mischief they had to concoct to get you back here with him.

He crawls back up your body, kissing from ankle to thigh, settling himself between your thighs, cock sliding through your slick folds as he lays his body down against yours, one of his hands slipping under your neck, cradling the back of your head, the other cupping your cheek, moving your face to look right into his eyes. He’s so fucking close to you, lips barely a hairs breadth from your own.

“I have to be inside you,” He pants against your mouth, “I promise I'll spend hours between your thighs later baby, but I have to be inside you.”

He doesn’t give you any time to respond, just shifts his hips a little, sinking himself into your aching cunt. You arch up into him, moaning against his mouth as he stills. The hand clutching at your cheek trails down your neck, thumb flicking against your nipple as it travels to rest on your hip.

“Stop squirming,” He pleads, “Please.. Just stay still a minute.”

He feels so right, nestled inside your pussy. The weight of his body pressed against yours takes you right back to all the nights before, locked away in his Austin apartment in the dead of night, making each other feel good, making promises at the height of your combined pleasure to each other that never materialised. You can feel tears settle in your eyes as he starts moving, pulling himself out of you slowly, pushing back in even slower.

Marcus leans down, kissing the salty tears from your cheeks, shushing you, “Don’t cry baby,” He whispers into your ear, “I’ve got you now.”

Your hands are clutching at his shoulders, nails digging small, half-moon shapes into his skin there. He feels just as incredible moving inside you as he always did, but there’s something settling in your tummy, the feeling that you knew so well with him, that you’ve only really known with yourself since.

“I can feel you baby,” Marcus groans into your ear as the thrusts of his cock get a little faster, a little harder, “Clenching all perfectly around me,” He takes hold of one of your wrists, dragging it between the both of you, resting it right where you need it, “I won’t last baby,” He admits, “Touch yourself and we’ll do it together?”

So you do, you rub tight, precise circles over your clit as Marcus pushes himself up, takes your thighs in his palms, pushing your legs back as far as he can. The change in angle makes you cry out as he really starts fucking you now. The only sounds in the room are the slapping of his skin against yours, your whimpers and his groans. You can feel the tightening coil across your abdomen, breath hitching in your throat, you’re so fucking close to coming undone on him.

“Marcus,” You whine, “I’m gonna-” You trail off as he shifts a little more, pressing your legs further back, cock hitting that unholy sweet spot inside you, “Gonna come.”

“Go on baby,” He encourages, “I’ll be right behind you.”

And that’s how it ends. Eyes shut so tightly you can feel tears pooling at the corners, cunt clenching around his cock as you cry out his name. It’s so familiar, the way it feels, the way he sounds, like no time has passed at all and you’re exactly the same as you’d both been four years ago. He’s pounding into you as your body convulses underneath, thighs shaking and toes curling as his hips start to stutter.

“Where?” He manages to choke out, his tone reminiscent of all those times before when he was holding on, teetering on the edge, wanting to know what you wanted.

“I’m s-safe,” You manage to choke out, head reeling from your own orgasm, “The pill.”

He doesn’t need to hear anymore, finally giving in, knowing you’ve fallen apart for him, he’s groaning your name into the dark, you can feel him spilling into you, claiming you, marking you as his own in a way only the two of you could ever understand. He lets go of your thighs, letting your legs drop back into comfort as he slowly drags himself from you, collapsing onto the bed next to you.

There’s a few moments of silence. Your arm is draped across your face, chest rising and falling as you try to suck in enough air to calm your breathing, Marcus doing the same across the bed. You roll over, putting yourself on your side so you can look at him. He’s led on his back, head turned to look at you in the dull light of the room - the moonlight through the window the only thing illuminating the two of you. He reaches out, traces your face with his hand.

“I can't believe you’re real.” He speaks softly, rolling over to face you, pulling your warm body to his.

“I know we said we’d talk after,” You whisper, hand trailing over his waist to rest across his back, “But can we just stay like this for a while?” It’s a soft plead, you don’t want to be reminded that this was probably a bad idea, you want to hold this man in front of you and forget that in a few short days it’ll all be over, he’ll go back to wherever he is now, and you’ll go back to D.C. lonelier than ever.

“I’ll stay here as long as you’ll let me, honey.”

Marcus, against his better judgement, stays with you all night. You don’t talk. You curl up into his side, settle against his body as he wraps his arms around you. It’s inevitable that he casts his mind back to how things used to be. To the history you share with each other. He still, to this day, hasn’t stopped thinking about you, about what would have been if you’d stayed. Would you be married? Probably, he thinks. He’d thought of it often towards the end, before your promotion. Stopped outside jewellery shops, tried to imagine which kind of ring you’d want – he’d even slipped one of your rings onto his own finger, figuring out where it stopped so he could pick the right size when the time came. Would you have children? He isn’t sure, neither of you had ever spoken about it, you’d never expressed a want to have them, but he’s certain if you’d have asked, he’d have given them to you.

He falls asleep, waking up hours later, darkness still pervading. He turns on his side, spooning his front to your back. You’re half-awake when you press yourself back into him, bring your hand up to clutch at his head as he slips inside you once more, his hand holding your thigh up. He breathes into your ear, whispers filth to you as he rocks his hips against you. When you feel his teeth trail over your shoulder, he chuckles when you tell him off.

“I can’t walk down the aisle with bruises on my shoulders, Marcus.”

It’s soft, and he tips you over the edge, feeling you clench around him as his fingers trace circles over your clit, following just behind you, filling you up once more. He doesn’t pull away from you, just settles your thigh back down, resting himself inside of you as you both fall back to sleep.

Then, he’s awake before your alarm. He wakes you with a kiss to your forehead, tells you to go back to sleep when you protest and try and coax him back to the warmth of your sheets. He has to shower he says, has to help Mike get ready, but he’ll be waiting for you, watching you all day. Marcus smiles, really smiles, when you curl over back onto your side, soft breaths and mumbles as you fall back to sleep, and as he walks to his own room and stands waiting for the shower to warm, there’s a feeling of content that spreads through him – should he have fucked you last night? Probably not. Should he have encouraged you to talk more? Probably yes. He knows he’s got his cards hidden, he’s not letting on that this might not have to just exist here, but he’ll keep that to himself for just a little longer.

“So,” Cassie smirks from her place in the make-up chair, artist flitting around her, pressing all number of products into her face, “You and the groomsman?”

“Shut up,” You mutter to her, trying not to scratch at your face, make-up already settling uncomfortably across your skin, “A momentary lapse of judgement.”

She hums, and then moves her focus back to the make-up artist who is tilting her face to put on some blush, “You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” She says to you as you pass her a mimosa, “I know that was Marcus. The Marcus.”

There’s a moment where you feel like a deer in headlights, like you’ve been caught being up to no good, even though you know that’s not the case. Then you turn slowly to her, eyebrow raised, and see her smirking, much to the chagrin of the make-up artist who urgently wants to get her lipstick on her so she can move onto the final bridesmaid.

“He’s Mike’s friend, they went to school together, see each other quite often these days – apparently he always talks about a girl from Austin, no-one could ever compare, he’s tried moving on, done this, done that, but always came back to thinking about the one who got away,” She stops talking to take a drink, “Which sounded oddly familiar to someone else I know.”

She’s not wrong really – Cassie had been a lifeline when you’d moved to D.C. a work colleague turned best friend, who has been the shoulder to cry on whenever dates had gone badly, or even when they’d been good, but you just couldn’t get Marcus Pike off your brain. She told you, like most good friends would, that it would take time, you’d find someone right for you, someone who would take your mind right off Marcus, but it never happened.

“You did this on purpose!” You accuse, but its friendly, because really, her and her soon-to-be husband have only done what you had always wanted to do yourself, pick up the phone, no matter how long it has been and tell the man you still loved him.

“Of course we did,” She chuckles, “Don’t think about it too much,” She adds, “Just enjoy this today and most of all, behave yourself.”

When Cassie walks down the aisle, it’s not her that Marcus is looking at – it’s you. He hadn’t thought it possible for him to find you more beautiful than he had before, but in your dark green dress, slit cut into the fabric to show off one of your legs as you walk, dress cut perfectly to sit on all the curves of your body that he always did love, he can’t deny you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He spends the entire ceremony making eyes at you, smirking when you meet his gaze. He wants to tell you how lovely you look, lean down and plant a kiss to your lips in front of everyone, but he doesn’t get a chance until cocktail hour, once you’ve had your pictures taken and Cassie has insisted on you finally having a drink and enjoying your day instead of flapping about whether she needs anything from you.

“Has anyone told you how beautiful you look today?” He asks, hand settling on your waist as you lean against the bar waiting for your drink.

“Funnily enough, it’s not me most people have been looking at.” You quip back, taking the margarita from the bartender when it’s handed to you.

“I’ve been looking at you.”

“I know,” You smirk, “Pretty sure I ruined my panties stood at the top of the aisle.”

“Because the ceremony moved you so much?”

“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about your face between my thighs, actually.”

He looks exactly like he always used to when you flirt with him like this. Eyes low and dark, mouth slightly ajar like he can’t quite believe you’ve just been so forward. He’s not thinking straight anymore, and much like he had done last night, he grips around your wrist and starts dragging you from the reception room, this time there are considerably more people so you manage to slip out unnoticed.

Instead of heading up the stairs, taking you to your room or his, he turns left down a hallway, tearing open the door to one of the bathrooms. It’s a single stall, lock clicking behind him. You press your back against the wall, setting your drink down on the sink.

Marcus takes three steps towards you, hand slipping around your waist, pulling you flush against his body, lips so close that you can feel his breath on your skin.

“Do you know how sinful you’ve looked all day?” He asks, “Walking around looking all innocent, but I know you’ve been begging to get fucked all day, haven’t you?” You whine at him in response, trying to chase his mouth as he pulls back, “Don’t think I didn’t see you rubbing your thighs together during the ceremony.”

“It’s only because you wouldn’t stop looking at me.”

His hand finds the skin of your thigh, the slit of your dress making it easy for him to trail up to the hem of your panties.

“If I put my fingers on you,” He breathes, “Will you be wet?”

“Why don’t you find out?” You cock your head to the side, biting your lip as you look at him, his hand pulling your panties to the side, thick fingers slipping between your folds.

“Baby,” He moans, finally taking your bottom lip between his, nipping your skin with his teeth a little before he pulls away, fingers slipping inside you, pulling a groan from your throat, “Soaked for me?”

“Always, Marcus.”

He drags his fingers from you, spins you around, and reaches down to bring your palms up to rest against the wall in front you. He puts his hands on your hips, dragging your ass backwards until you can feel him through his trousers. His hands shuck your dress up to your waist and instead of tearing your panties off, he pushes them to the side. You look over your shoulder at him, as much as you can, and watch as he undoes his belt, pulls the zipper of his trousers down and reaches in, pulling his cock out. His trousers are pushed down just enough to let him free himself, and you don’t think you’ve seen such a beautiful sight in your life, than Marcus Pike with his fist around his cock, running his hand up and down himself as he moves to nudge the head of his cock at your soaked core.

Unlike last night, he isn’t gentle when he pushes into you. He’s buried inside your cunt in seconds, setting a pace that punches the air from your lungs. You know that even though you’re locked in here, away from the party, there’s still every chance someone is going to walk past, try the door handle, and hear exactly what’s going on in here, so you’re trying your best to keep the noise to a minimum.

“Needed you so badly, baby,” Marcus chokes out behind you, hands gripping your hips hard enough that you’re sure you’ll have his fingerprints embedded onto your skin, “Always so pretty for me, aren’t you?”

He’s hitting that sweet spot inside you, over and over again, and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out. You feel one of his hands trail up your spine through the material of your dress, coming to rest with a grip around the nape of your neck, his fingers itching to slide up into your hair and grip it.

“You can’t,” You plead, “Don’t mess my hair up.”

“I won’t baby.” He pants out from behind you, trailing his hand down just a little so he’s not tempted to take a fistful of it to pull you back, arch you into him even more.

It’s fast and it’s hard, everything Marcus never really used to be. He liked to take his time, spread you out and have you crying for him before he slipped inside you, slowly, watching every contort of pleasure on your face. You think you like this new version of him, the one so desperate to have you he couldn’t make it up the stairs, couldn’t even pull your panties down your legs.

“Marcus,” You moan out, “Please.”

“What’s that, baby?” He asked, mouth right by your ear, “You begging for something?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“What do you want?”

“Make me come?”

You think maybe he might try and tease you some more, but mercifully he takes the hand he’s got resting on your hip and snakes it down your body, letting his fingers find your clit - he had always been good at that. He drags the gathered slick where he can, cock still moving into you, pulling whimpers and moans whenever you feel his skin slap against yours, circles your clit quickly with the pad of his finger. You can feel your walls tightening around him, your thighs starting to shake as he continues doing exactly what he’s doing.

It’s no secret to either of you that making you come always took time. He’d never shamed you for it, always been more than happy to do whatever it took, for as long as it took, to get you there. But the mix of desperation for him, elation that he’s waltzed right back into your life, and the fact he’s fucking you in a public bathroom, have that coil tightening inside you quicker than ever.

“Can feel you getting tight around me baby,” He groans into your ear, “You gonna let go for me?”

You don’t have time to tell him yes. The tight coil snaps inside you, your eyes closed so tightly you’re sure the make-up around your eyes is dragging down your cheeks on tears. You can keep your voice down now as you flutter around his cock, you cry out his name, feeling his hands holding onto your hips to keep you steady as your legs threaten to fall out from underneath you.

You’re only half aware of him speaking into your ear, telling you he’s close. You can feel him start to pull himself out of you, so you reach behind you quickly, fingernails digging into the part of his thigh you can reach to keep him inside you.

“I swear to god if you get cum on my dress Pike, I’ll kill you.”

He lets out a deep, throaty chuckle behind you, slams himself back into you, “You just want an excuse for me to come inside you, don’t you?” He hisses into your ear, teeth nipping at the skin behind your ear, “You just have to ask nicely for it.”

“Please, Marcus, please.”

Never one to deny you, he does, having held out as long as he could, he thrusts once, twice and then he’s moaning your name into your ear. You can feel him spilling inside of you, filling you up, then you can feel him dripping down your thigh when Marcus starts pulling away from you, not quite quick enough to put your panties back on. He tells you to keep still, fumbling behind him for some paper he can use to clean your thighs up.

He speaks to you as he lets the material of your dress fall back down over your legs, “Walking around full of me for the rest of the night.” He coos as you turn around, reaching out to pull his mouth to yours in a chaste kiss.

You stay like that for a moment, both attempting to fix the others clothes. Marcus brings his thumb to his mouth, letting his tongue jut out to wet it, before he drags it under your eye, getting rid of the worst of the black marks he’s caused.

You reach behind him, unlock the door, but take hold of his hand as you push the door open. Thankfully there’s no-one waiting outside to use the bathroom as you drag him back down towards the party.

It’s late. Or early depending on how you look at it. Marcus had dragged you from the dance floor at midnight, walked you slowly up to his room instead of yours. He’d helped you out of your dress, let you shower and wash yourself clean, then, before you could put your robe on and insist on going to sleep, he’d taken your hand, led you to the chair near the balcony doors and he’d made good on his promise of last night to spend hours with his face between your legs.

“I can’t,” You whine, Marcus hand’s pinning your legs open, his tongue flicking against your clit, “It’s too much.”

He pulls off you just enough to speak, “Believe in yourself baby,” He says, sinking two fingers into you, curling them upwards, “I know you can, just one more for me.”

Your whole body feels like its on fire. You’ve lost count of the amount of times he’s made you come tonight. There had been a small reprieve when you’d begged to suck his cock, Marcus obliging, painting your face and your tongue, before he settled right back to his knees. It’s almost as if he thinks if he stops you’ll disappear.

Your fingers are tangled in his hair, battling between tugging his face closer and pulling it away as he sucks your clit into his mouth, the added pressure along with the flicking of his tongue setting your skin on fire even more than before. Your hair is sticking to your forehead and the back of your neck, rivulets of sweat gathering at various points across your body as Marcus tips you over the edge once more.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, body feeling boneless as your whole body convulses at his touch. Almost like he knows, he pulls himself away from you gently, knowing that any more would be too much, saving you the need to beg him to stop. He presses soft kisses to the skin of your tummy, kissing up your body until he’s sitting up on his knees, kissing into your mouth, letting you taste yourself on him.

Marcus clambers to his feet, takes hold of your hand and pulls you to your feet, guiding you over to the bed to settle you under the sheets, the air peppering your sweaty skin with goosebumps. It’s a sad realisation that you have to go home tomorrow, that the bubble you’ve caught yourself up in over the past few days is about to burst. You think this might break your heart even more than the first time around.

“What are we going to do?” You ask against the skin of his chest as he pulls you into him.

“What do you mean?” He asks back, kiss pressed lightly to your forehead.

“With us, after this?” Your fingers are tracing over his skin, trying to map the feeling of him before he leaves.

“Well, I thought maybe we could go for dinner sometime?”

You look up at him, face contorted in confusion, “You’re going to come all the way from Austin to take me for dinner?”

“No baby,” He chuckles a little, “I don’t live in Austin anymore, I live in D.C.”

You push yourself up in bed, one hand on the mattress to keep yourself upright, looking down at Marcus, who reaches up to cup your cheek in his hand, thumb rubbing soft lines across your skin, “Since when?”

“Two years?” He offers, “I would have-” He trails off a little, “I would have told you but I wasn’t in a great place when I first moved, had no idea what your life would have even looked like either, I didn’t just want to turn up out of the blue if you’d moved on, found someone else.”

Your hand comes up to clutch at the wrist of the arm cradling your face, “I’ve waited so long for you,” You sigh, “I tried, tried to find someone else, but none of them were ever you Marcus.”

“I tried too,” He admits, because Lord knows he did, and for what? “I promise I’ll tell you everything one day, but right now, I want to fall asleep with you right here.”

You settle back down in bed, curling up against his side, arm draped over his waist, “Where in the city do you live?” You ask, sleep starting to make your eyes heavy.

“I’m on 4th street, in Petworth.”

You can’t help but laugh, because of course he fucking does. Marcus Pike has been living four streets over from you for the past two fucking years.

“You’ve been living four streets over from me for two years, Marcus.”

He runs his hands up and down your spine, gently, soothing you, “Well, that’s convenient, isn’t it?” He asks softly, “I can be at your front door in five minutes.”

“You want to be my booty call, Marcus Pike?”

“If that’s what you want,” He speaks, “I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“What are you doing Wednesday night?”

“Nothing, as far as I’m aware.”

“How about you take me on a first date?” You offer, “Let’s learn each other all over again and take things from there?”

Marcus colts your chin up to his face with a finger, leaning down and giving you the softest kiss you think you’ve ever received, “I would love nothing more.”

#Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike Smut #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #marcus pike fanfiction #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x F!reader #Marcus Pike fic #Marcus Pike fanfic #the mentalist #the mental illness is winning #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #Pedro pascal #marcus pike fluff #Marcus Pike angst #Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal #Marcus Pike The mentalist

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trippinsorrows · 3 months

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with me + part twelve

authors note: you guys are seriously the nicest and most supportive. the comments always make me stupidly smile and laugh cause not a single one of ya'll is gonna let bdj die off. 😭 also, i know a couple of people have commented and asked about the backstory with joe and jadah, and i promise it'll be explored deeper. there's a subplot i'm working towards unveiling here, and it's nearing the reveal part, but we're not there yet! i promise, though, it's gonna be touched on!!!

i also had to chop this chapter in half, because it's honestly so much stuff, so the next update shouldn't take as long cause it's almost done.

the next two are gonna be so fun. maybe some shit will go down too. we shall see.

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, some angst, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

words: 8k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @southerngirl41 @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

“So let me get this straight, in the time that I’ve been gone, you and Joe told Callie he’s her dad, you found out Amir and Mariah been fucking behind your back, and you had a semi mental breakdown after running into your father and, plot twist, long lost sister.” She counts each off with a finger, then asking. “Did I miss anything?”

Nodding, you take a scoop of your ice cream before adding, “Joe told me he loves me.”

In true Alexis fashion, she randomly arrived in town the night before, completely unaware of all that transpired in her absence. So, you take this time while Callie sleeps to catch her up.

“Did I miss anything that I didn’t already know?” You give her a look, and she rolls her eyes, also eating some of her Rocky Road. “Come on, Y/N. Ray Charles could see that man is in love with you. You’re the one being stupid by not reciprocating.” Before you can push back against her, even if she isn’t entirely wrong, she switches topics. “Now when are we gonna go beat Lieriah’s ass? I told you it was something about that girl. She’s a snake.”

Typically the one to defend your friends, it’s hard to find it in you to come to Mariah’s aid. Nevermind the fact that she knows the shitty things Amir has done to you over the years, it’s the fact that she’s supposed to be your best friend but is messing around with same ain't shit ex? You would never do something like that to her, but maybe your loyalty to her has always been stronger than hers to you.

“I’m not worried about him or her. They’re not worth it.” That’s partially true, but the sting of betrayal is slow to pass and even slower to heal. You’ve always had mid to low expectations for Amir, but Mariah? That’s a crushing blow. “I have more important things to figure out.”

She studies you, leaning back against the headboard. “Your sister.”

“Bianca,” you correct. It’s too uncomfortable referring to her as such, even if that’s exactly what she is.

In the weeks since the big fireworks show—both metaphorically and figuratively—you’ve tried to slowly return to your sense of normalcy. Focusing on Callie—who is an entirely different issue in and of itself that you really need to talk to your mom about—being more on top of things at work, and navigating your relationship with Joe.

He hasn’t been back to visit since Christmas, but you figured as such. Wrestlemania season has arrived, and you know better than anyone how crazy that time is, especially with him main eventing.

But the one thing you haven’t really allowed yourself to think too much about is Bianca. You’d sent her a vague apology text a few days after your mad dash and explained that you were dealing with some things and just needed time to sort through them. That you’d reach back out when you were ready.

That still hasn’t happened, and it’s entirely intentional.

“I remember you mentioned that you always wanted siblings?”

“Yeah, cause we have so much to bond over,” you mutter, bitterly.

“Well, you actually do have a lot in common. She’s a teacher, like you. She has a daughter, like you—”

“You know what we don’t have in common?” You interrupt, feeling the agitation growing again. It’s not directed toward Alexis, just the situation in general. “A father who loves us.”

You were done referring to that man as your father. A father shows up. Like Joe. That son of a bitch isn’t even in the same universe as Joe.

Her expression softens. You didn’t tell her everything, just enough for her to get the gist that he’s a piece of shit. And you definitely did not tell her about the time you went to see him. You’ve never told anyone that story. Joe is now the only one who knows, and you’d like to keep it that way. It’s just….it’s just too painful. “I had no idea that was the situation there…..I’m really sorry, girl.”

“It is what it is. I don’t need him.” And you’re not too sure if you need Bianca either. “I’m just trying to figure out if I should power through this for Callie’s sake. You should have seen how she and Taylor clicked. I would hate to take that away from her.”

“I get that,” she acknowledges. “You have to make the decision that’s best for the long run, not necessarily how you’re feeling right now.” That’s very easy to say and nearly impossible to do. “Even if you just allow the girls to interact while you keep some distance with Bianca.”

You’re partially intrigued, spooning some more cookie dough. “How would that work?”

“They don’t live here, right?” You nod. “Maybe the girls can talk on Facetime or even play some game on their tablets. That won’t cause you to interact much with mom outside of coordinating virtual playdates, and Callie still gets to spend time with her cousin, or, not cousin."

You sit on her words, not expecting to be as open to the idea as you are. It’s a pretty genius compromise. “You really do give some great advice sometimes, you know that?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she smiles mischievously, and you just shake your head. “Now, who’s gonna knock this bitch Mariah over the head with a steel chair? Me or you? Or should we hit her with a bus, Regina George style?”

“Alexis!”

________

You clearly don’t love yourself because you decided to do both yours and Callie’s washday on the same damn day. A Sunday, at that. Meaning, you have no choice but to get it done because you have work the next day.

And Alexis being in town would be even more of a benefit than it already is if she actually knew how to do hair. Natural hair. She can lay any wig down better than Tae, but caring for coils and curls is another story. It’s why you declined her offer, and she lays knocked out in your bed, while Callie is fast asleep in hers.

Thankfully, you have an insanely generous and sweet man who’s offered to talk to you while you power through this debacle, noodle arms, sleep deprivation, and all.

“Oh, before I forget again.” You grab the bottle of leave-in to apply more to the next section of hair. Shingling may give you the most definition, but it also gives you the most discomfort. “Can you be here May 8th?” A smile falls on your face. “Our baby is graduating preschool, and I know she’d want you there. I do too.”

“Shit, they have preschool graduations?” He seems genuinely taken back before answering. “But, of course I’ll be there.”

“I know. I used to think they were stupid, but now it’s my kid, so it’s the best thing ever. Her cap and gown should come some time in March, so I’m gonna have one of my old teammates who’s a photographer take professional photos of her.” It’s literally just preschool, but that’s still something she’s accomplished, and you want to commend the occasion the best you can. It’s been years since you’ve had professional photos of her taken anyway. Not since she was first born. “And yes, I’ll get extra for you.”

“How much—”

“Anyways, let me show you the tattoo.” Joe has already done so much, the least you can do is cover the photo costs. Even though you know him well enough to know he’ll find some way to contribute. Thankfully, the side of your hair that still needs to be shingled is clipped at the top of your head, so all you have to do is turn around and push down the thin strap of your shirt to reveal your latest ink. “He did an amazing job.”

“Shit, he did.” Joe’s agreement and approval somehow makes you even more satisfied with the outcome. Your Christmas gift to yourself was finally getting that Moana tattoo Callie has wanted to see on you since you told her you were getting one damn near a year ago. It’s on the back of your left shoulder, a black manta ray, some blue ocean-like coloring with one of your favorite lyrics from the movie: I will carry you here in my heart. You remind me, that come what may, I know the way.

It’s one of Callie’s favorite songs but also feels like an ode to your grandma as well.

He then asks, “do you want more?”

Readjusting your shirt and turning back around, you answer, “of course. More Disney but also….” This discussion triggers something for you, something that seems a little out there, but also maybe not. “I saw this tattoo on Pinterest that I want to get for Callie.” You grab your phone. “Let me send it to you.” It’s saved in your favorites folder and thus an easy send. Placing the phone back on the counter, you wait for him to receive and see it.

“I like it.” It’s a baby’s footprint with the name written in cursive and date of birth in print right underneath it. You’ve always wanted Callie’s name on you but couldn’t settle on a design until you came across that one. Something about it just resonates with you.

Licking your lips, you suggest, “why don’t you get it with me?” Couples getting matching tattoos isn’t something you’re entirely against, you just don’t agree with it for people who are only dating and not married, if marriage is the goal. You remember when Amir once suggested you do so, and you literally laughed in his face. You’d soon rather get branded with a tramp stamp than have that man’s name permanently burned into your skin.

But, matching tattoos for the child you created together with the man you love. That is something you could get behind.

And apparently so can he.

“Let’s do it.”

“Really?” You’re not sure why, but the ease of his agreement shocks you. It’s not too far-fetched when you think about it. He loves his daughter, and you’ve always known Joe to only get tattoos that have meaning. He could give you a detailed explanation for every piece of ink on his body.

“Yeah.” There’s almost a sense of excitement in his voice, like he’s eager to have her name on him, to share this with you. “Same location?” At that, you make a face. He laughs. “Inner bicep does hurt, I’m not even gon’ lie to you.”

Yeah, you’ve definitely heard as such, and considering his entire right side is tatted, he’d know. “I don’t know. I have to think about it. I might need to squeeze your hand the whole time, or I’ll end up punching the tattooist.”

He laughs, “you can squeeze my hand.” Joe then asks, “when do you want to get em’ done?” You start to think about it logistically, as well as financially. Tattoos aren’t cheap. “Do you want to go to the Super Bowl?”

His question surprises you because it’s such a change in topics but also….what? “Yup. And Hawaii and Puerto Rico. And then maybe if we have time, stop by Alice in Wonderland.”

He’s too good at matching your sass, retorting, “I can make the first two happen easily. The last one may be a stretch.” Rolling your eyes, you grab for the gel. “I’m serious though. My tattoo artist is based out of Vegas. The game is in Vegas this year. It’ll let me see Callie too, cause I’m having a hard time finding a gap to visit.” As he continues to speak without laughing or chuckling, you realize he’s dead serious. “I’ve been meaning to ask you to go anyway but kept forgetting.”

You need extra clarification. “Like this year's Usher concert where there’s apparently a game too?”

He rolls his eyes, providing the guest list. “It’s me and the twins, their family, some other fam…..we have a whole section, cause you know it's a bunch of us.” It’s still hard to sit on the fact that this man really just invited you to the fucking Super Bowl like it’s dinner at Golden Coral. His eyes soften. “I wanna see her. I wanna see you.”

Joe’s closing statement, so true and vulnerable, is what breaks you from your temporary state of shock. You get the sense he misses ya’ll just as much as you miss him. “Of course, we’ll go. I’m sorry, I just—I wasn’t expecting that.” And it’s true, you weren’t. “How will we get fl—”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of everything. I just need you to show up at the airport.”

That seems to be such a recurring theme with this man. He does everything he can to make things as easy for you as possible. It’s tremendously appreciated and doesn’t go without notice.

“This is the first time she’ll be meeting the twins,” you realize aloud. Hell, his family at all.

Joe nods, chuckling. “Yeah, they’ve been on my ass about that anyway. They want to meet her.”

Pinning down the section you just finished, you take down the next. A little over halfway done now. “Whoever you want her to meet is fine with me, Joe. I don’t even really have a say in that. She has every right to meet your family just as much as she’s had to meet mine.”

And it’s true. Unless it could present some harm to Callie, you don’t really feel like you have the right to object to things like that. You have zero desire to interfere with Joe and Callie anymore than you already have.

“I know. I just wanted to tell her the truth before introducing her to anyone else. Less lies.” Makes sense. Thinking about Callie meeting more family brings a small smile to your face. It’s what she deserves. Family members who actually want to be in her life.

The conversation brings something else to the forefront of your mind, partially due to Joe’s confession to you on Christmas but also a question you’ve wanted to ask him for much longer than you’d like to admit.

“So….” This shouldn’t be as nerve wracking as it is. “There’s something I want to ask you, but I don’t…..I don’t want to overstep.” If he were to tell you that he’d rather you not, that’d be fine with you, one less stressful thing on your plate. But, of course, he’s silent, meaning he’s not going to object. So….you decide to bite the bullet and go for it. “What happened between you and your wife?”

You’re certain he wasn’t expecting that to be what you asked, but to your surprise, he answers. “We were young and got married for the wrong reason. I was 22. She was 21.”

Unsure but taking a big risk regardless, you ask in a small voice. “What was the reason?”

His answer isn’t what you’re expecting either. “She was pregnant.”

It takes a second for you to process what he’s saying. Your stomach is suddenly in knots, chest feeling tight. There’s no way he’s kept something like that from you. No way in hell. “Wait, does Callie have—”

“No.”

And just like that, you know. He doesn’t need to explain. It’s painfully obvious, especially as he looks away from the camera. You have a feeling you've unlocked a painful memory he’d most likely kept tucked away.

“I’m sorry.” It feels so stupid and unhelpful to say. What does that do for him? It doesn’t take away that experience, that loss that you can’t even begin to imagine. But, it’s all you can offer. “Just—forget I asked, let’s change the subject.” Do you have more questions? Of course. Like, why was there such a gap between their loss and the divorce? But, this is understandably a difficult and sensitive subject, and the last thing you want to do is trigger him more than you already have.

You know better than anyone how awful that can be.

He agrees with the subject change, going along with the transition of topics, clearly grateful for your understanding. But, in the back of your mind, you can’t help but think about the fact that this man lost his firs child before he could even meet the them, and the child he had who did survive was kept a secret from him for nearly five years.

There’s a sudden sickness and disgust you feel. And it’s not towards anyone but yourself.

Joe had every goddamn right to be furious with you about your subterfuge.

He still does. ________

“Mama, something is up with Callie.”

You’re thankful Alexis agreed to keep Callie preoccupied in the living room while you have this conversation with your mom, because Callie had another incident just this morning, slamming her door when you told her she needed to pick up her toys.

She’s never done that.

But she has done other things in the past two weeks or so, rolling her eyes or pouting her mouth at you when you say something she doesn’t want to hear, beyond typical tantrums.

Your mom stops her stirring at the pot to turn around and look at you. “What do you mean? Is she sick?”

“No,” you answer and then realize you’re not entirely sure how to explain it. She’s not being bad, per se. Just….difficult. “She’s just been…..off.”

Genuinely intrigued, and partially concerned, you watch your mom turn the fire on low as she joins you at the kitchen table. “Tell me.”

Shaking your head, you explain. “I thought it was just me, that I was just being overprotective and hyper-vigilant, but when I picked her up from preschool yesterday, her teacher pulled me to the side and asked me if she’s been having sleep problems. I told her no and asked why, and she told me Callie has been irritable. With staff and other kids.”

“Callie?” Your mom seems just as taken back as you were hearing these words. “That doesn’t even sound like her.”

“I know, and that’s what I said at first, but then I thought about it, and she’s been crabby with me too. It’s not horrible, but it’s unlike her.”

A small part of you wonders if it has something to do with you running off on her on Christmas. It would make sense. She was doing absolutely fine before then, but it’s the timing that throws that theory off. You’ve noticed this change only in the past two weeks, well after Christmas day passed, so why the delay?

“What does Joe think it is?”

“I haven’t told him.” It’s not that you don’t want to. You’d just like to have a better grasp of what it is before doing so. Have more actual information to provide him.

“He hasn’t seen the behavior for himself?”

You shake your head. “She’s fine with him. Matter of fact, after his calls, she’s like a completely different child.” It’s watching your mom’s face settle into a look of realization that makes you ask, “what? What is it?”

“Honey” she starts with a soft chuckle. “She’s missing her daddy.”

Her answer catches you by surprise, painting your face with confusion. You’ve had a lot of theories, but that definitely wasn’t one of them. “What?”

Reaching across the table, she places her hand over yours. “Think about it. How would she react if you were gone as much as he is? She’d be a mess, cause you’re her mama, and she has a strong attachment to you. Look how easily she attached and connected with Joe. It’s always been there. Except she knows the truth now, so her attachment is even stronger.” You heed to her explanation, wise and sensible. You hadn’t even thought of it that way. “And isn’t this the longest he’s been gone without her seeing him? She’s acting out because she misses him and probably doesn’t know how to verbalize it, so it shows in her behavior.”

As relieved as you are to have an explanation that makes sense, it’s an explanation that makes you incredibly sad for your sweet child. You know how hard it is for Joe to get away right now, you understand it. It never crossed you that she wouldn’t.

Devastated, you ask, “what do I do?”

“Talk to her. Try to help her understand. It may not make a huge difference, but it’s something.”

You nod, so so grateful for her, for all that she does for you, for Callie. For all that she’s done. Reaching across the table, you hug her tightly. “thank you, mama.” As much as it devastated you to not have that man in your life, your mom made sure to go above and beyond to make sure you knew you were loved. She played both roles beautifully, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to make her understand what that meant to you.

You still haven’t really sat her down and explained everything that happened Christmas night, nor has she asked, but you know it’s because she’s trying to respect your space. It’s appreciated, but you also know you’re gonna have to eventually tell her.

Just not now.

Right now, you’ve gotta take care of your baby.

________

Even the energy in Callie’s playroom feels off.

You’re so used to walking in and finding her with that million dollar smile that makes your entire day better. Instead, you walk in and she doesn’t even acknowledge your presence. She just continues to color.

“Hey, baby….” Disappointed, but refusing to show as such, you welcome yourself in and approach her table. “Is it okay if I color with you?”

She still doesn’t say anything, just nods, and you do your best not to hide your sadness. You hate seeing her this down, it’s so unfamiliar, and you’ll do just about anything to fix it.

Sitting down in the uncomfortable seat, you take a couple of her pages and pull out a crayon. “I have an idea.” At that, she looks up, slightly intrigued. “Why don’t we draw how we’ve been feeling lately? I draw me, and you draw you.”

You scold yourself for not selling it to her better, for not telling her it’s something you sometimes do with your students. Some level of innocent peer pressure. However, she surprises you by agreeing with a simple “okay.”

It takes a second for you to register that it was really that simple. Step one is done. Now for step two.

Grabbing some crayons, you don’t really concern yourself with skin tone, just getting something out on paper. The two of you color in silence, and you start to offer to put on her favorite playlist but decide against it.

You want her to really think about what you’re asking.

It’s when you see that she’s placed down her crayon and is just staring at her picture that you ask, “you done?” She shakes her head, but her eyes are on the table in front of her. “Is it okay if mommy sees it? I’ll show you mine too.”

Handing you the page, you expect an influx of emotions, but actually seeing her literal representation of how she feels is simply heartbreaking.

She’s drawn herself, frowning, surrounded by broken hearts and a blue tear leaking from her eye. Callie did what you asked. You just wish it didn’t have you feeling so helpless.

“This means you’ve been feeling sad, huh?” You hate how your voice gives away your emotions. This is about her, not you, but it’s so difficult for you to not be impacted. No mother wants to see her child hurting, and Callie currently is. It kills you. “Callie….” Moving up from your chair, you move across to kneel in front of her, taking her hands in yours. “Have you been sad because you miss your dad?”

All you need to hear is one sniffle, and instantly, you’re reaching for her, holding and comforting her.

“It’s okay,” you soothe, kissing the top of her head. “It’s okay, baby.” She cries into your chest, and you have to hold back your own tears.

“Why doesn't he come back?” She asks in between tears, wiping her eyes. “He’s been gone a really long time.” It’s only then you realize that she’s not entirely exaggerating. Joe was last here for Christmas. It’s now the end of January. For a child like Callie, that must feel like an eternity.

“He would if he could, Callie. I promise you he would. Daddy just…he gets really busy with his job this time of the year, and he can’t leave or he’ll get in trouble.” It’s so difficult to explain this to her. WrestleMania season is inarguably chaotic and stupidly busy. Even back in the day, Joe’s trips to see you were most far and few in between during this time of year. And that was before he even had a title. You can’t even imagine how busy he must be as the literal fucking face of the company.

Enough to keep him from being able to come see you and Callie.

You’ve just gotten so used to the dynamics of him being away for periods at a time that it never occurred to you Callie hasn’t had the same experience. That at the end of the day she’s still a little kid who just wants to be with her dad.

It’s then that a thought crosses your mind.

“What if…..what if we went to see daddy?” For the first time since you stepped into the room, her eyes actually light up and you notice her tears lessening. “Instead of him coming to us, we go see him?”

“Really?” There’s the faintest smile on her face, and you know then that you’re going to make this happen. You don’t know how or in what way, but it will be a reality. No matter what it takes.

“Yeah,” you answer, brushing away some of her tears. “You can go see him at his show. He’d love that.” Not as much as she clearly loves the idea alone. “Now, we’d only be able to stay a day or maybe two but—”

“Please,” she interrupts, and you get the sense that she fears you’re going to find a way to say that you couldn’t or shouldn’t go. “I’ll be a good girl. I promise.”

“Baby, you’re already the best girl.” You push back some of her hair, resting your hand against her cheek. “Mama’s gonna make it happen, okay? I promise.”

If you have to sell one of your kidneys, then you’ll just be less one organ, because you’re getting your baby to that damn show. Matter of fact, you don’t say anything to her, but you’re wondering if you can make it to this week’s upcoming show. It’s only Sunday, and that gives you a couple of days to make arrangements and secure tickets. It’s doable, but you don’t want to get her hopes up, so just in case, you say nothing.

And yes, in the back of your mind, you know she’ll see Joe in a couple of weeks for the game, but that’s too long. Your child is hurting. You need to do something now. She can’t wait that long.

“Thank you, mommy!” She wraps her little arms around you, and just like that, you see the spark and joy that fills your days with light and laughter. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby.” Kissing her temple, you release her, realizing something else. “Now we can't tell your daddy because we’re gonna surprise him, okay? Can you do that for me?”

She nods, happily, unaware of the real reason. You know that you can’t tell Joe about this. Well, not now at least. This is not something to be discussed over the phone or even video chat. And if you tell him you want to take her to see him as soon as possible, he’ll know something is up.

So, you have to move in silence.

Coloring with Callie commences for a little longer as you value and cherish your time with her, but as soon as she’s down for her nap and before you wake Alexis from hers to tell her the news, you need to do something. It’s in that time bonding with her you realized how you’re going to make this happen.

You’re suddenly immensely grateful for that random conversation you’d had with Joe a while back regarding the fact that he and the twins have had the same phone number since they were in high school.

Pulling out your phone, you scroll through your contacts until you land on the one you need. You type, backspace, and type some more, only sending out the text once you’re fully pleased with it.

You: Hey, Jon. This is Y/N. Can you call me when you get a chance? Preferably sooner rather than later. I need your help with something. And please don’t tell Joe. It’s a surprise.

________

God clearly wants you to bring Callie to see Joe.

There’s just too many things that have lined up perfectly for that not to be the case. The discussion with your principal went well, though that wasn’t entirely surprising. You’ve always had a cordial relationship and know she respected your grandma. The whole school system in your town did. That was just her level of impact. But that respect has slid down to work in your favor as your principal told you to take as much time as you need.

“You’ll always have a job here.”

While not a huge concern, it’s reassuring and not entirely unsurprising. Again, your grandma’s impact definitely granted you a level of nepotism. You were slightly surprised when she actually encouraged you to take more time off, pointing out how in the almost nine years you’ve worked there, she could count on one hand how much PTO or vacation time you’ve used. And, it’s true. It was really only when Callie was sick and your mom couldn't help or you wanted to stay home and nurse her back to health that you called out. For the most part, you had damn near perfect attendance.

But, that’s certainly about to change, and you’re thankful you have a job that’s flexible enough to accommodate the change.

And then there’s the actual getting there. You should have known when Alexis was asking questions about when you and Callie were leaving that she was up to something. You naively chalked it up to her planning her flight out, as there was no way you expected her to wait around for ya’ll to get back. Instead, she was busy buying not just her ticket to come with ya’ll but yours and Callie’s as well.

You instantly felt bad when she forwarded you the itinerary information. You couldn’t see the cost, but you weren’t stupid either. Getting flights out with such short notice had to be expensive as all outdoors. You were just going to put the bill on your credit card and work to pay it off. And, of course, when you offered to pay her back, she nearly cussed you out. As if such an offer was insulting.

“What good is a trust fund if you can’t spend it on your college roomie and pretend godchild?”

So, while you still felt slightly uncomfortable, you were able to push it to the backburner for the sake of Callie. This is all for her, and you don’t care what it takes to make it happen. Even if it means sucking up your pride.

And deep down, you know if Alexis didn’t do what she did, Joe would somehow find a way to compensate you. The same way his ass somehow got his card on file at the hospital and covered all of Callie’s medical bills without ever even asking you if you needed help.

You still haven’t talked to him about that, not really having or finding the right time, but it also feels a bit bitchy and ungrateful to be upset with the man for covering his daughter’s medical expenses.

Then there’s the actual show itself. One thing you were initially concerned about was if Joe has a match lined up for this upcoming week’s show. You two have only had a couple of discussions about it but still enough for you to learn that he’s extremely hesitant to expose Callie to his wrestling persona.

“I don’t want her seeing me like that, thinking that’s who I am.”

And you understand him fully. Roman may be a fascinating character, but he’s equally narcissistic and ruthless as he is intriguing. The complete opposite of Joe and who he is.

Still, you’ve worked to help him understand that talking to Callie, explaining to her that he’s playing a “character” could help her understand better. You both are in agreement that she’s too young to watch actual matches, especially his as they tend to get brutal, but she can see certain promos. And she does. You let her watch a couple where the dialogue is safe enough to go over her head. And truth be told, she’s so focused on watching Joe that she's not really paying attention to what’s being said anyway.

Needless to say, you were massively relieved to hear from Jon that Joe doesn't have a match lined up and his promo is reportedly tame and safe enough for Callie’s eyes and ears. He didn’t give specifics, but from one parent to another parent, you trust his judgment.

And the most important thing of all is the fact that Callie has done a complete 180. She’s no longer as irritable, just the usual attitude when she’s sleepy or hungry. Just like her mama. And there’s that spark of joy in her eyes. She’s even started packing what she wants to bring with her. She knows you’ll only be there for one night, but even that can’t seem to dim her joy.

It makes your heart swell.

All of this brings you to your conclusion that you’re doing exactly what you should be doing.

“Ahhh, and here it is.” The old woman’s voice breaks you from your inner dialogue as she walks toward the counter, returning from the back. “Sorry about that sweetheart.”

“No worries, Mrs. Ella.” Your eyes light when you see the item in her hand, even if it’s covered by a cloth bag. The fact that it’s ready is more than enough to make you smile. “Thank you so much for agreeing to this.”

She waves off your concern, offering a warm smile. “Your grandma was one of my best friends. As far as I’m concerned, anything you need is a done deal.”

That warms your heart. Mrs. Ella has been the town seamstress for longer than you’ve been alive but doesn’t look a day over 50. She’s not lying either. Your grandma always cited her as one of her “life” sisters.

“Why don’t we take a look to make sure it’s alright?” She offers, removing the item from the garment bag. She takes the hoodie and turns it over so you can see the back.

In awe, you acknowledge, “it’s perfect.”

Among the many things Joe has gifted Callie, WWE apparel hasn’t really been included in that list. You’ve chalked it up to his hesitation about familiarizing her with his Roman persona. However, you know that girl loves her daddy and will support him in all the things, so you took it upon yourself to pick her up a few items over the holidays. One of those things being a black hoodie with Roman’s picture on the front with him wearing one of his head of the table shirts. Wanting to make it special and personal, you had the idea of customizing it. Thus, asking Mrs. Ella to add to the back, Acknowledge my daddy!, and she did a fabulous job. It looks like that was the original design.

Pulling out your wallet, you ask, “how much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house.”

Your eyes snap to her. “Mrs. Ella, no, this was a rush—”

“Don’t argue with your elders, child,” she scolds, and you smile warmly. “Just show me a picture of her wearing it, and we’ll be even.”

Moved by her generosity, you offer your gratitude again. “Thank you, Mrs. Ella. Seriously. Thank you.”

Hand over yours, she just nods and then ushers you out the door, “well, you better get a move on child.”

With a small laugh and one more thank you, you leave out with the hoodie, excited to show Callie and even more, to see Joe’s reaction when he sees her wearing it.

“Y/N?”

Fuck. You’d know that voice anywhere, have known it since you were five years old.

That doesn’t mean you have to heed to it.

You keep walking.

A stupid decision, because the footsteps behind you become louder and faster as she asks, exasperated, “would you just talk to me?”

You spin around, suddenly pissed at her repeated question. “Why? Why should I talk to you?”

You’ve dodged and ignored her texts the same way she did yours, so what’s the issue now? Being on the receiving end must be one hell of an unpleasant experience for her. Not that you give two shits. Mariah is the last thing on your plate right now.

Mariah seems taken back, and that just pisses you off more. How can she not see her wrong in this situation? “You’re my best friend, Y/N. We’ve been friends since we were in kindergarten. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Did it mean something to you when you were fucking Amir?”

Something you can’t identify flashes in her eyes followed by apparent hurt. “Are you serious right now? You’d really believe him over me.” It’s hard to tell how sincere her watery eyes are or if they’re performative. You’ve never known her to be fake, but then again, maybe you’ve never really known her at all. “That’s fucked up.”

Finding some level of compassion and understanding for the woman you called your best friend for almost your entire life, you try to offer her the benefit of the doubt. “Okay, let’s say you’re not fucking him. At the very least, you’ve been telling him my business while ignoring my texts and calls. Like, what the fuck, Mo?”

She shakes her head. “He came to me, worried about you—”

“He came to you nosy and upset because I cut it off with him, and you fell into his trap.” How she can possibly fall for Amir’s bullshit is beyond you. She knows how he is. Hell, she’s been right beside you, up until recent weeks/months, dealing with his bullshit. So, her excuse is just that—an excuse. “And even if he was, as my best friend, you should know that’s still girl code violation.”

It feels almost silly citing that, but the morals behind it still ring true. You would never talk to Caleb about things going on in her life when you know they’re not on good terms. And you damn sure would never fuck him.

“Girl code?That’s funny coming from you, because you didn’t seem to to care about girl code when you were fucking another woman’s husband and had a whole ass baby for him.”

Her words stop you dead in your tracks. Any facial expression you may have been showing is dropped and neutral. Even your voice is softer, less accusatory. “Excuse me?”

For her to say that to you, knowing how sensitive a subject that is truly takes you by surprise. Truly.

It doesn’t stop there though. “I mean, forreal, Y/N. You’re up in my face about Amir, but aren’t you still fucking Joe? Shit, how many niggas do you need?” It’s hard to believe the words coming out her mouth, so angry and hostile. But, even her volume rising has you stumped. It’s like she wants to draw an audience. “It’s not enough to be one man’s whore, but you still gotta have another on the side?”

Truly baffled, all you can ask is, “where is this coming from?”

She sucks her teeth, just as irritated, if not more by your question. “It’s always been this shit with you. You do whatever the fuck you want and don’t care who you hurt or betray in the process!”

And now you’re just straight up confused, because what have you ever done to her? Cause that’s what it sounds like she’s implying. Like you’ve done her wrong. Like you’ve been doing her wrong. “What are you even talking about?”

“You got Joe. You got Amir. Shit, when is enough enough for you?” She scoffs, and it’s hard for you to even look at her let alone listen to all the hurtful things she’s spewing. “Like damn, find a new hobby. Focus on raising your kid—”

And that…..that is the moment that you’re no longer confused, or hurt, or saddened to hear your best friend say such awful things. You’re pissed. Cause one thing no one can convince you you’re not, is a good mother. You’ve dedicated your entire life and being to taking care of Callie, making sure she’s straight. That’s always been your priority, and for her to suggest otherwise….those are really fighting words.

You step toward her, finding all of the will in the world not to shatter her jaw. “You and I have so much history. It is the only reason I’m not whooping your ass right now, but know this, Mariah. This was your freebie. Fuck with me again, speak on my child again, and I’ll bash your fucking head into the nearest wall.” It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. “Stay away from me, bitch.”

You don’t give her time to respond or even yourself the chance to lay her out, you instead rush to your car, locking the door and speeding out of the parking lot.

Your knuckles are nearly white with how tightly you’re gripping the steering wheel.

It’s been a while since you’ve been this hot. Years maybe. Amir would piss you off, sure, but never to the extent of your emotions in this moment. It truly took all resolve and imagining Callie’s disappointed face at not being able to see her dad because you got yourself locked up for aggravated assault to keep you from beating Mariah’s ass. She knows better than anyone that you don’t play about your daughter, so for her to include Callie in her mud slinging is not only repugnant but hurtful.

She’s supposed to be Callie’s godmother.

But beyond that, you’re having a hard time reconciling with the rest of the things she was saying. It didn’t feel like something that’s been building up over the past few months. No, this was different. Much…..deeper.

Regardless, you don’t have time to deal with this shit. You need to put your focus on preparing to bring your little girl to see her dad.

Mariah can fuck off.

She’s always been all bark and no bite anyway.

________

“Mommy.”

Callie doesn’t even have to say anything else for you to know a request is to follow.

“What's up, sis?”

She climbs on top of where you lay on the sofa, you and Alexis watching some random dating show she swears up and down is the best thing since Love is Blind. So far, you’re entirely unimpressed. Granted, reality shows of any kind have never been your cup of tea in the first place.

Your YouTube history is mostly crime documentaries and Bloodline videos.

She climbs on top of you, throwing her arms up and shouting, “dance party!”

Of all her typical requests, that’s one you haven’t heard in a while.

You’ve always raised Callie with music, even back when you were pregnant, you would take your Beats and place them on your belly. It’s seemingly worked because this child loves music, so much so that you two would have random “dance party’s” where you’d blast music and dance around, no care in the world, just the two of you.

You haven’t had one in a while, but seeing Callie so happy, a stark contrast from how she’s been is more than enough to get you up and on your feet. You look over at Alexis. “Come on, Lex, it’s dance party time.”

She feigns a gasp, looking at Callie for approval. “Do I get to come to this party?”

Callie giggles and jumps on the sofa. “Of course! Everyone can come to dance party!”

What’s also ironically funny is the fact that you and Alexis used to have dance parties all the time in your dorm, just often with much more explicit Travis Porter, Speaker Knockerz, type music and a lot of ass shaking.

“Well tonight, it’s just the three of us,” you laugh, grabbing your phone and opening your Spotify to figure out what will be your kickoff song. It’s when your eyes land on that one though, you know you’ve found it.

Connecting your phone to your Bluetooth, you confirm the connection and hit play.

We're a thousand miles from comfort, we have traveled land and sea

But as long as you are with me, there's no place I'd rather be

“My favorite white girl song ever!” Alexis shouts, starting to dance with Callie who’s just as excited about your selection. Together, the three of you dance and sing when the iconic chorus hits.

If you gave me a chance I would take it

It's a shot in the dark but I'll make it

Know with all of your heart, you can't shake me

When I am with you, there's no place I'd rather be

At some point, Alexis grabs your phone, recording and capturing the laughter and joy you experience dancing and being silly with your very, very best friend. Callie’s laughter could revive any soul, and it’s so genuine. Even more, you know a large chunk of it is her excitement to see her dad in a couple of days.

And that makes it all the more special.

Eventually needing a break and time to catch your breath, you laugh as the song ends and the next one starts. Lex and Callie immediately go at it for round two, spinning around and dancing to Dance the Night.

You take a second to check your phone, seeing that you have a Snapchat from Joe. Frowning, you open the message confused as to why he’s using that and not just text. He only has the damn app because you made him get it. He’s not very big on social media outside of occasional Instagram posts.

Swiping it open, you see why he was messaging you on there.

Because your wonderful best friend sent him the video she recorded of the three of you dancing.

Joe: How do I save this?

Joe: Fuck it. It’s too confusing. Just send it to me.

Laughing, you chew on your bottom lip and type out a reply.

You: You’re such an old man. 😩

You: But yes, I’ll send it, even if I didn’t know Alexis was recording to send it to you...

You: Callie loves “dance parties” lol

Joe: I love her laugh. She looks so happy…

You: I know. ❤️ She loves music. Def my kid.

You: Skillet is next on the queue, btw. 🙃

Joe: Don’t know what that is, but if I had to take a guess, it’s some rock shit.

You: You know me so well. 😊

Joe: Of course, baby.

Leaving his thread, you realize that if she sent it to Joe, she probably posted it to your private story as well, which is fine. You only have people on there you know and trust to keep the contents within that space.

But, it’s in checking the views that you see Mariah not only watched but screen recorded your story. It’s strange, normally you wouldn’t think twice about it. She’s always screenshotted and screen recorded stuff you posted, and you did the same with Micah.

But now…..

Now, it feels wrong to share these moments with her. She’s lost that privilege.

Moving to your contacts, you ignore her old Snapchat name she never uses anymore and instead just block her primary one from seeing your stories, and that includes close friends. And interestingly enough, when you check your texts, you see one from her muted thread that momentarily causes you to pause.

Mariah: Kinda stupid to ice out the one person who knows everything about you.

But the pause comes and goes, Mariah always says shit, and that’s where it stops, the saying. She’s always been the mouse of you two, and that shit ain’t changed.

Closing up the app, you switch back to Spotify and focus on what’s before you and not behind you.

You have all the people you need in your life.

Mariah can fuck off.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

164 notes · View notes

fushipurro · 5 months

Text

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Chapter 3 - Malevolent Desire

<- Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, cowboy!au, darker themes, yandereish!sukuna, sukuna is bad at feelings, brief mention of an implied kidnapping/murders, brat taming, orgasm denial, vaginal/nipple foreplay, cunnilingus, creampie, sukuna calls you a slut (affectionate), biting/small blood mentions

☆ Word Count: 5.9k

Never in your life did you think one town could look as good as it does right now. It’s like a desert mirage that calls your name, urging you closer with the promise of rest.

After reclaiming your fateful bay mare, the trip home felt greater in lengths, heightened by the midday rays of the hot sun down the back of your neck. Now, the city of Valentine sits ahead of you, basked in rich golden hues.

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt the levels of exhaustion you face now. It pulls on your mind, body, and soul alike ─ demanding everything you’re able to give.

Upon your return with the empty-handed lawmen, Satoru offers a not-so-subtle notion that if you’re sore or injured after any “strenuous activities” to stop in at the neighboring doctor’s office for some care.

You decide to take him up on it, hoping to find some sort of reprieve, at least from the warm sensations where clothes couldn’t protect you from the harsh touch of sunlight. There, you find a woman by the name of Shoko Ieiri ─ an old friend of the two you had spent your day with, and the resident physician.

She proves especially helpful in restocking whatever medical supplies you needed, and even more understanding with any matters relating to ones with Satoru’s involvement. In fact, all you had to do was mention his name and referral, and it was as though you gave her the key to a closet full of tonics dedicated in his name.

During your time shopping, a man clad in dark jeans, a purple button up, and a black vest steps into the office. Just like you, he’s here to restock, claiming to be on the hunt of a local predator who recently claimed another victim.

Turns out, the man you had a shootout with went missing sometime late last night, leaving behind a trail of blood that didn’t go far. The modus operandi matches that of the killer he and his partner are after. Whether they’re alive still or not is unknown, but it won’t be long before a decaying body surfaces with a cryptic message to follow.

You’ve always been intrigued with bounty hunters, at times becoming one yourself to make a few extra bucks if need be. It was something your father had done on the side to put food on the table considering how picky businesses can get with new hires.

In your discussion with Shoko and the man called Choso, you made a mention to your little adventure with Satoru and what all your poor Valentine has been through. Surprisingly, Choso claims to have some veterinary knowledge, offering to look her over for any potential injuries, free of charge.

You accept of course, her health is of the upmost importance to you. Even if you don’t believe Suguru would have purposely harmed her, you can’t say the same for his crew. That, and how she was in the middle of an ongoing robbery. It’s always better to be safe than sorry.

Choso not only ensures that Valentine’s in tip top form, but also checks over Clementine. You appreciate it, knowing how much you’d hate yourself if something were to happen before she’s reunited with Kento.

The two of you are joined by his partner, Yuki, who had been resupplying at the weapon’s shop across the street. She reminds you a lot of yourself, perhaps even cut from the same cloth. It’s always a pleasure to meet another woman on the frontier that can hold her own, and you hope to run into her again someday ─ maybe while hunting a bounty to compare skills.

In the meantime, she can’t help but swoon over the two mares in your care, even showing off her own that she raised from a filly ─ a silver turkoman dubbed Garuda. Choso’s steed on the other hand is a leopard appaloosa gelding by the name of Nova.

When everything’s said and done and the hunters take their leave, dusk has settled over Valentine with a thick blanket of stars. All that’s left for you to do now is to get your meat and you can be on your way for some food and rest.

…so long as the butcher’s stall is actually open, which in this case ─ it’s not.

Tough luck.

So much for getting your dinner now, guess you’ll be going to bed hungry. You opt to head for the hotel, which only serves to sour your mood further as the clerk tells you your stay is up and there’s no other rooms left to rent out. At the very least, you’re still able to pay for a bath to wash off the various dirt, grime, and other slick stuck to your body.

Now you could head off into the nearby prairie, or down by the Dakota River to camp, but as highlighted earlier, you’re exhausted. With two horses under your care and all your worldly possessions, you need to be extra careful what you do and where you go as a woman in this wild age.

Luckily, there’s a dozen barns to choose from in town, and even more available stalls to sneak into. At this point, straw poking your back is the least of your problems if it means getting a night of rest.

You lead the two mares over to an empty corral behind one such stable, freeing them from their tack and hiding the evidence under a pile of alfalfa bales. Save for the saloon, the rest of town has quieted down as others have now retreated to their homes and families.

That used to be you once when you were younger, now here you are sneaking inside a barn to get some shuteye. Oh, how your father would be so proud.

There’s just one problem.

You’re not alone.

As soon as you enter through the barn doors, you’re met with a few lit lanterns and a huge horse on the crossties. We’re talking the definition of a war horse here, with a blood bay coat to match. Their feathering is light, and you wouldn’t be surprised to find out there’s some warmblood mixed in with some draft breed. At the sound of their deep, echoing neigh, a head pops up from between their hindquarters.

“Who the fuck ─ ahh, it’s you,” the voice remarks, and it’s one you remember quite well.

The Butcher.

“Come to finally collect what’s yours?” he asks, a tinge of playful annoyance lacing in his words.

You approach the man, narrowing your eyes. He spares you his own sharp look before resuming his work clipping the giant’s hoof.

“Since when does Valentine’s butcher do farrier work?” you question, admiring the look of dark chaps around his beefy legs. It pairs nicely with his black pants and the red shirt he has on.

He snorts, “I do a lot of different work ‘round here, sweetheart.” His nickname falls short when paired with sarcasm. “Whatever pays the bills while I’m here, and besides, this is my own mare so it’s not like I’m being paid.”

“Leave it to a bloodied man to ride a red mare,” you mutter under your tongue, hearing him huff anyways. “Can’t lie though, she’s a beauty.” You reach out to pet the girl, only to retract your hand the second her ears pin backwards and she about bites your hand off.

“That she is,” he chuckles lowly, uncaring to what almost occurred, “Calamity here is loyal and obedient, just how I like it.”

You scowl in response, ultimately realizing any interactions with this man require a level of caution to be taken. He’s not to be trifled with.

Then again, Daddy didn’t raise no coward.

“You sure you’re not compensating for something?”

Not that he needs to. Appearance wise, he’s very attractive, even if he waves enough red flags at you to be called a matador. You are a stubborn bull at times, so it may be a fair tradeoff. Being tired and hungry don’t mix well for any wicked cowgirl.

“Please,” the butcher scoffs. “I have no reason to need to. Why, you interested in taking me on?” He throws a smirk at you from over his shoulder, grabbing a large file in the process to shave down the mare’s hoof.

You roll your eyes, leaning up against a wooden post to admire his workmanship. “Please,” you mock, “I think you’re exactly the type of man my father would tell me to put a bullet into and call it a day.”

“If you think my ‘services’ are inadequate, then you’re more than welcome to,” he retorts, finishing up the hoof with a beautifully crafted horseshoe nailed perfectly on. He stands up after, dusting off his hands and turning to you in full. He certainly has a height advantage on you amongst other things.

You don’t back down, not even when you’re at the disadvantage. “We’re still talking about work, right? ‘Cause you have something of mine.”

The butcher steps forward into your space, like a predator stalking its prey into a corner, only you don’t move. “Is that really why you came creeping in here? Or maybe you’ve been following me,” he muses with sultry words.

“I’m not here for you, your highness.” Those choice words deepen his annoying grin. “But since you are here, then I’d like to get my meat and go. I’ve had quite a long day.”

His eyes darken as a thought crosses his mind. “I think I can help with that… if you’ll give in to me,” he says, moving one hand to brush a strand of hair from your face. You slap him away, earning a click of his tongue, “Don’t be a tease.”

You ignore his accusation. “What exactly are you offering here?”

“Instead of sleeping in a stall full of shit…” he pauses, letting his words register that yes ─ he knew exactly why you were here to begin with. He’s as smart as he is cocky, that’s for sure. Not a bad combination, but only if you can back it up. “…why don’t you come back home with me, and I’ll treat you to some care?”

A tempting offer, but full of risk.

“And how am I supposed to believe you aren’t planning on robbing or gutting me the moment we’re alone?”

He laughs again, only this time it resembles some cackling coyote in the dead of night. “Guess you’ll just have to be good and trust me.”

“Howreassuring of you,” you reply sarcastically.

“It’s up to you, brat.” He shrugs nonchalantly, picking up his heavy western saddle. “Whether you want it or not, make your choice now or forever hold your peace.”

You keep a horse-length behind the man, Sukuna, atop your mare; your eyes are glued to the back of his head with one hand close to your iron if the situation warrants the need. The environment around you both is eerily calm ─ as if nature knows something about a potential threat that you don’t.

Perhaps your foremost thought about him being a serial killer on the side wasn’t too far off.

It doesn’t help your nerves either or his case for that matter when his home happens to be a cabin in the woods. There’s a set of storm doors that immediately catch your eyes upon arrival. They’re tightly bound and sealed with the use of heavy chains but at this point, would it really surprise you if there’s something down there he doesn’t want others to see?

Rationally, it could just be where he stores excess meats and other parts of his work, and that the chains are only there to keep predators out. He is a butcher after all, that would be the safest option.

…Unless of course the seal exists to prevent anything from escaping.

You decide to push those thoughts away for now. You’ve wrestled with bears numerous times after all; if Sukuna decides to betray the trust you’re giving him, then you won’t be going down easily.

Sukuna rides up to the pasture gate, hitching Calamity up to a post to untack her. You join him near his side with both Valentine and Clementine to do the same. Hopefully his mare’s temperament doesn’t affect either of your girls in the field after Choso gave them the okay. Explaining any new injuries to Kento would not be easy after he’s already gone out on a limb for you.

You’re then led up into his cabin, where the interior is surprisingly clean. For a butcher, he seems careful enough about it, as nothing you see has a speck of blood staining it.

“Take a seat,” he practically demands, pulling out one of his dining chairs for you on his way into the kitchen. You oblige, choosing not to comment on his tone.

You watch him from afar as he cooks, to which it appears to be yet another skill he excels in. His precision with a knife also tells you that in the event of any fights to the death, you’re gonna need a gun to win. He spares you a few glances here and there, but otherwise his focus is kept solely on the stovetop until he’s walking back into the room with dishes in hand.

You can honestly say that Sukuna’s cooking is one of, if not, the best you’ve had the privilege to eat. He’s prepared a selection of different meats paired with fresh vegetables and is eager for you to try everything he’s whipped up.

Conversation is kept to a minimum, not that you can complain. His earlier attitude seems to have softened after a good meal, yet the tension still hasn’t let up. After dinner, you offer to help clean up as thanks, but he shuts you down, even taking your plate straight from your hands.

There’s a look of mischief that plays across his crimson eyes as you’re turning back to the table. Now there’s one thing to always be cautious of when sharing company with a predator, and that’s to never turn your back on one.

A full belly must’ve dulled your senses, subsequently lowering your guard to forget that rule. Your mistake comes with a consequence, or maybe a blessing ─ Sukuna now caging you between himself and the dinner table.

His voice, deep and velvety, murmurs in your ear, “Ready to discuss payment?”

It makes your body shiver, and you hope it wasn’t too obvious. He chuckles, so you know that was a bust. Good thing you’ve still got some sass in you.

“You’re telling me you didn’t do this out of the kindness of your heart?” you tease with the man.

“Fuck no.” Sukuna inhales your scent, making your eyes flutter shut. “I’m not about to let some other maggot get in my way,” he says, brushing the hair off the side of your neck, revealing splotches of red and purple bruising. “This time…you’re mine.”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” you tell him, but your efforts to remain in control are in vain.

Sukuna starts to pepper kisses across every discoloration his eyes can find, his other hand now pulling you closer to his body.

He’s hard, and nor was he lying either when he said he has nothing to compensate for.

With one hand placed inches above your needy core, he encourages you to grind against his own. It’s an action so specific, you can’t help but wonder if there’s some hidden meaning to it. Either way, Sukuna knows right where to get you along your neck until you’re weak in the knees and grasping the edge of the table for stability.

“What’s the matter?” he asks between kisses. “No more bratty comments?” You can feel his lips hovering over your carotid artery, smiling against the flesh as your heartbeat quickens in response.

“Fuck you,” you spit in a low volume, your grip on the table growing stronger as Sukuna’s hand moves fast to cup your sex.

“There’s plenty of time for that,” he muses. “I intend to enjoy every minute of this.” He lifts his hand upwards, pulling you off your feet for a hot second causing a gasp to leave your mouth. He then lets go of your body, backing away a few steps.

“Strip,” he commands, and you find yourself throwing caution to the wind. As you start to unbutton your shirt, he stops you, “Aht aht, turn around.” He motions with his finger almost impatiently so.

You roll your eyes before doing so, continuing where you left off. “Better, my lord?”

“That’s it,” he drawls, ignoring your snarky tone in favor of the new title of worship. “You’ll do well to listen and take orders.”

“You know, maybe I should put a bullet in you if you think I’m gonna sit back and become one of your pets. Better yet, I could always just cut your dick right off or maybe gelding would be more fun,” you warn him with an amused smile.

“Your words only arouse me, brat.” He stalks closer, baring his canines towards you with a similar, more salacious grin. “Stick around long enough with me and I’ll show you the best way how to do all of those things.”

Unlike you, you don’t believe he’s joking.

Sukuna takes a moment to admire your body, feeling his own cock strain in his pants. He leans his head down, taking you by your mouth in a ravenous embrace. He roughly bites your bottom lip, making you gasp yet again. Sukuna uses this chance to slip his tongue past your teeth, savoring the metallic flavor all while a free hand slips between your thighs.

He spreads you open, prodding his middle finger against your opening. “My… so wet already? I’ve hardly touched you.”

For how much you hate him for his arrogance, he certainly knows how to make a gal feel oh so aroused. You’re enjoying this more than you had expected to.

Without warning, he thrusts his finger upwards, lifting your body to rest atop the dining table. “Fuck!” you shriek, the pain turning to pleasure when his thumb coos your throbbing clit. With deft motions, he pumps his finger in and out.

Sukuna laughs in an almost sadistic manner, thoroughly enjoying the reactions you’re giving him. It’s always more fun when his prey has some fire that makes his efforts to break them all the more satisfying. Pretty soon, you’re rolling your hips against his knuckles on your own, aiding his motions.

“Look at you, slut,” his voice, full of sin, whispers in your ear. He bites the sides of your neck overtop the pre-existing marks, thus overriding the claims. “So desperate. You want to cum, don’t you? I can feel it.”

You nod your head, unable to hold back your noises as you grow closer to that sweet release. His touch is like wildfire against your body, igniting you with otherworldly passion.

“I wonder, what would happen if I were to deny you?” His grin widens and he retracts his hand from your body.

“Asshole!” you hiss breathlessly, groaning from the loss.

Sukuna loves how easy it is to push your buttons. Each action serving to intoxicate you under his full control. If one simple finger of his could do all of this for you, then he can’t waitto impale you with his cock.

“Such a bad girl,” he purrs against your ear once again. Both of Sukuna’s hands hold you at the hip while he rubs his clothed self against you. “Tell me you’re mine and I’ll please you over and over again until all you can think about is me.”

“I’m starting to think it was love at first sight with you,” you chuckle through a moan, “Can’t ask a girl out like a normal person?” That remark earns you another reprimand as he suddenly pushes himself hard against you, forcing you back onto your forearms.

“Last I checked, I already made you dinner and offered you my home. If you’re having second thoughts then I’ll gladly let you go,” he states, but you can tell that’s a lie.

Sukuna would much rather you stay and give in to his desires. The offer is quite tempting to, as with any deal with a devil. It proves even harder to deny the effects Sukuna has on you, your stomach endlessly performing flips with emotions.

His whole domineering self is a forbidden type of decadence that draws you in, hypnotizingly so. There’s a lot you don’t know yet about him, and if one thing is obvious, it’s that the longer you stay at his side, the more you want to slip into depravity with Sukuna.

It might even help you become a better version of yourself. No longer would you be alone trying to survive in a world pitted against you.

Then again, your feisty nature is what got you here to begin with. Where’s the fun in letting that go now when you have someone that can keep up with you, with plenty to offer if he stays true to his word.

With a devious grin of your own, you tell him, “Fuck. You.” Emphasizing each word to better toy with him.

He laughs again, louder, and more boastful this time. He knew you would continue to deny yourself, punishing yourself in the process. You’re only making this easier for him to have his way.

“You won’t say it?” He stares down at you with a darkened expression, flashing those wolfish fangs again. One of his hands swoops up to cup your breast, pinching the bud as he makes you lie flat for him. “Oh, I’ll make you say it.”

In the blink of an eye, his mouth latches onto your swollen pearl, sucking with an intense force that leaves you writhing beneath him. One way or another, he’ll shatter your will. He knows it’s just a matter of time before you admit what you already know to be true.

Sukuna’s tongue swipes upwards once before pushing inside. He licks up every last drop of your arousal, feeding into his own animalistic desire to claim you.

To ruin you.

He moans at this thought, savoring your delectable taste like it’s his last meal on earth. The sweet flavoring pairs perfectly the way you cry his name out. One of your hands even holds the table in a white-knuckle grip, with the other struggling against his head. You can’t escape his touch, even if you tried. His own hands brandish your hips tight enough to bruise ─ making you in his name.

“S’kuna,” you groan, feeling your mind reaching a state where it has no choice but to unravel.

“Just say those three words,” Sukuna insists, spelling it out for you with the tip of his tongue. He’s edging you a second time now, knowing all too well how close you are. “Three words, and I’m all yours,” he urges.

“Fuck! Please, please, let me cum!” you beg the man, rocking yourself against his mouth for the needed stimulation. Sukuna clicks his tongue but doesn’t let up, sucking more vigorously now. Your eyes practically roll into the back of your head, your spine arching off the table from the force your climax hits you with. “Sukun-aah!” you cry out in pleasure.

Your mouth falls agape with a silent scream, falling limp against the wood. It takes a minute to come down off the high, but when your vision clears, you look to Sukuna whose shirt has been discarded. Now, you can clearly see his sculpted chest and all the black ink that adorns his body.

The sound of metal teeth fills your ears, and his jeans are the next to go. He doesn’t even give you a chance to see the rest of him in his full glory before you’re scooped into his arms, forced to wrap your tired legs around his waist. Contrary to his abrasive personality, he holds you with a lot of care, and you think you if this goes on, you could fall asleep just like this.

Sukuna lowers himself onto his bed, and in the process forces you into a straddling position. He briefly kisses your lips ─ another sweet act ─ and then leans back, tucking his hands behind his head.

“Ride me,” he commands. You shoot him a questioning glare in response. “What, you thought I was going to do all the work tonight?” he scoffs, “I told you already what I want to hear.”

You sigh, lips stretching into a fine line. It doesn’t seem like any amount of begging will save you from those three words he wants you to say, but are you ready to admit it?

“Come on, cowgirl.” Both his tone and expression carry a hint of mocking, albeit playful as part of his nature. “Let’s see some bareback riding… I want to watch you make yourself cum on my cock.” Sukuna pats your thigh before pulling it back behind his head.

You lift upwards, feeling a burn in your legs as you do so. Between days of being on the saddle and Sukuna marking the fourth man in your unintentional conquest of the city of Valentine, you ought to get a medal for how hard you’re working. At this rate, you may as well embrace the buckle bunny trope.

Reaching between your thighs, you take his cock in hand. The size is bigger than you imagined, even after feeling it through his denim. He’s no doubt the biggest you’ve taken thus far, and you can’t even feel the tips of your fingers around his girth.

There’s a bit of uncertainty that starts to bubble up, but as the famous saying goes ─ country girls make do.

And so, you line him up, rolling the fat mushroom tip across your slit to gather the necessary lubricant before even attempting to sit over this monster. You wince at the first stretch, your insides burning unimaginably so.

Sukuna wants to laugh. He’d love to keep teasing you but even he’s having trouble forming words in this situation. It’s hard enough resisting the urge to go all in and get it over with, but that won’t end well for him.

He wants you to trust him after all.

He wants you to be his.

After what feels like a century, you finally bottom out, hips kissing his pelvis in full with a deep, guttural moan to follow. Any slight movement on either of your parts sends shockwaves heavier than his heavyweight draft.

In this moment, Sukuna decides to play nice. His hands move from his head down to the dips of your hips, helping you through the motions with a gentle touch. It’s mostly an excuse to get you moving already, but also due to how deeply he wants to feel every bit of you.

Pretty soon he lets you take over, as he originally planned. At first, your pace is agonizingly slow, fueled from your exhausted state much to his discontent. Despite this being his way of tormenting you, it affects him equally so. Sukuna’s also punishing himself for not making his move earlier when he had the chance.

“Is that all you got? Here I thought you wanted to cum,” he teases. “You look so pretty with my cock buried in you, slut.”

The degrading term aside, his sudden compliment has you moaning a saccharine tune. Your body hunches forward, curving his length to reach greater depths you didn’t think possible.

“Oh?” Sukuna groans deeply. “Does someone enjoy being praised?”

“Y-yes, ‘Kuna.”

“Good girl,” he hisses with lustful joy, clenching his teeth together. Sukuna wasn’t prepared for the feeling you created by saying his name in such a delectable way.

He could eat you right up for that.

“My dove is doing so well,” he murmurs against your ear, pulling the lobe between his teeth. “Now if only you’ll say those three words already,” he urges you once more, wishing for you to give into him.

You huff, “What haa-happened to saying please?”

“Tch.” The palm of his hand meets your ass. You gasp into a cry, clenching around his length. “Don’t be a brat after I’ve been nice and complimenting you.”

Fresh tears gloss your eyes but are quickly soothed by him rubbing circles over the forming red handprint. That hand then moves deftly over your stomach to where it had rested earlier. Sukuna pushes with his palm slightly, feeling himself deep within you.

Fuck, it feels good, but it’s not enough.

Your pace begins to slow as your body tries desperately to balance exhaustion with your building orgasm. Sukuna’s breathing turns disheveled, a sign that even he’s losing his patience ─ ready to fill you to the brim with his seed.

Nearing the precipice of your release, you finally come to terms with your inner turmoil. You’re here now, you may as well make the most of it. As downright intimidating as Sukuna can be, he just wants to please you in his twisted sort of way.

It’s not easy to admit, but in a way, he reminds you of your father ─ always pushing you past pain to grow stronger. It’s what made you into a rattlesnake in a world full of predators. Sukuna brings out that venomous side of you but also rewards you with subtle soft touches.

One might argue that your affection for Sukuna could be the result of losing your father years ago. On the other hand, this possessiveness Sukuna shows might be his own way of dealing with issues from his past. Whatever the case may be, you hope the lengths he’d go to protect what he deems his isn’t anything too maniacal in nature.

Maybe for the first time in your life, you will let go of control ─ let someone else carry your burden without always needing to put up a strong front.

“’Kuna,” you whine, leaning down in front of his face, cupping both sides of his jaw. A bead of sweat falls from a strand of your hair, disappearing in an instant from his hot flesh.

His eyes narrow in your hold, obsidian swallowing garnet. “Say it.”

And you finally do.

“I’m yours, Sukuna. All yours.”

That’s all he needed to hear for everything to snap into place. Sukuna’s arms reach around your torso, holding you tight to thrust himself into a brutal pace. His cabin now but a domain of lust, fueled by a cadence of sounds as body and souls unite as one.

“’Bout time,” he growls, the pitch of his voice noticeably lower. “I was just gonna mess with ya at first, tease you a bit ─ see how far I could back you into a corner,” Sukuna starts to reveal, his pace unrelenting. “Then I saw you showin’ off at the bar, fucking that bastard’s hand up without breaking a sweat. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever been more turned on in my life.”

The two of you bury your faces in each other’s neck, your hands struggling to find a grip anywhere to provide relief from the mounting state of rapture. The knot in your abdomen growing tighter and tighter by the second.

“Had to watch that blond fuck get to you before I could, and then,” he growls, “you ran off with that white-haired freak of a sheriff this morning.” His arms coil around you with more force. “Don’t think I’m not aware these marks are from him.”

“’Kuna, please,” you whimper into his collar.

“That’s right, tell the world who you belong to ─ who’s ruining you,” Sukuna’s laugh mixes with deep, groaning exhales. “Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around my fat cock. You better be proud of yourself for what you’re doing to me.”

You cry out his name a dozen more times as he ravishes you, no sooner reaching the plateau of an ecstasy that unravels every fiber of your being. Your only thoughts now are of the man beneath you, drunk off his cock now shooting thick ropes of cum deep inside you.

The stimulation gets to be too much that you feel the overwhelming desire to bite down on his neck. Sukuna revels in this, spilling out every last drop he can manage until it overflows from within you and around the base of him.

You relinquish your hold on him, allowing your body to slump against his. “You’re mine now,” Sukuna declares with your name following his words. He moves one hand up and down your back, reminding you of his softer side, all before flipping your positions, still nestled within your body.

“Suku–“ You’re cut short by his lips pressing against yours in a warm embrace.

He kisses every tear down your face, and even the drool that trails the sides of your mouth before returning to your lips. Amongst everything else, you can still taste yourself on his tongue, paired perfectly with his own like seasoning on the finest of meals.

“Did you think we were done?” One hand moves to hook the backing of your knee, lifting it up to grant him better access. “I said I’d take good care of you, and all you had to do was submit your trust to me.”

You might’ve just created a monster without realizing.

“Take every bit of me now… you’ve earned it.”

You have no memory of when sleep overtook you. Sunlight peeks through the curtains now, illuminating the cabin in warm, rich tones. Your body, while sore and aching, feels renewed in all aspects ─ mind, body, and soul.

Sukuna’s arm is wrapped around your waist, with his other acting as a pillow beneath your head. Feeling you stirring, his eyes flutter open, glaring at you with his own tired expression.

“Mornin’, dove,” he greets, voice thick with sleep.

You stretch in his arms, moaning slightly as you wiggle closer for comfort and warmth. Sukuna smiles against your forehead, tightening his arms around you like he’s afraid you’ll fly away if he lets go. It’s fine for now. After all, you made your choice to give in and it’s one you don’t regret.

He may joke about “fucking the brat out of you”, but let’s face it ─ Sukuna had plenty of frustrations of his own to get out. Now, you get to experience his softer side. While Sukuna will never admit he has one, he is glad you’re here and wants to keep it that way.

After another bout of sleep, he prepares a nice, fulfilling breakfast for you. It’s quiet as the two of you eat, both knowing full well you weren’t going to be staying for another night.

The fact remains that Sukuna has some unfinished business to attend to, and you yourself must return Clementine to Kento before making any lifechanging decisions in your journey of life.

On your way out the door, Sukuna grabs your wrist, spinning you back and up against the door. His knee wedges between your legs, one hand holding your jaw up for him to claim your lips in a fervent kiss goodbye.

“Come back to me soon, dove. I’m not finished with you.” He smiles, but it lacks the malicious intent he held earlier.

You think.

“See you around, cowboy.” You tap the back of your hand to his chest when he releases you, walking off from the porch and over to the pasture. “Oh, and by the way,” you call out from over your shoulder, “I give you five stars for your excellent service.” You wink, licking your lips.

Sukuna smirks from afar, remaining by his doorstep until you’re nothing but a shadow in the distance. His eyes pan over in the direction of his cellar, eager to pass the time until your hopeful return.

…but will you?

☆ Notes: I got stuck on this for a while during my writing slump as I’ve come to realize I’m not all that big on smut writing, tbh. It’s not something I feel confident with, nor is it something I actively seek out to read.

But god, writing Sukuna was a BLAST and a nice start for me cause I have several ideas I want to do for him in the future <3 I hope you guys enjoyed how I wrote him though; I tried to balance all my favorite aspects his personality and my own little headcanons.

Also had to throw in my own choso & yuki cowboy headcanons… originally I was gonna have choso working in the office with shoko, but I ship him with yuki hard and really wanted to include them one way or another in the series. blood manip just screams doctor AUs to me, and I think he’d be an awesome vet or peds doctor!!

For all the red dead 2 players though… do you recognize what house we’re in? :3

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk au #cowboy!au #sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #choso kamo #shoko ieiri #ryomen sukuna

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vorthosjay · 6 months

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Hi Jay. Not wanting to sound mean, but I really think it must be commented and that there's no softer way of doing that: the company's statement of Thunder Junction being an inhabitated plane prior to MoM is not a honest way of capitalizing on a sellable trope without touching its uncomfortable issues. It's even disrespectful. They have done it in a less flagrant way with Kaladesh and both Ixalan iterations, but now they've gotten too far with Thunder Junction. Colonialism is too big an issue to simply being put under the carpet as it never existed and we could just enjoy the sunny part of the history. I really hope Hasbro as a company acknowledges this and changes its way of dealing with the theme. Thanks for letting me pointing this.

Look, you caught me on a bad day, so I'm going to be as polite as possible but let's start with the foundation that this is not a complaint to direct at me. I have no control over any of this. Mark Rosewater exists and takes feedback on Tumblr.

But, let's talk about it, because I've seen some folks take this to extremes.

First off, I've seen a lot of well meaning folks speaking up on behalf of hypothetical indigenous americans, but I'd love to get takes from folks this actually impacts. I'd love for Wizards to post something about their work with cultural consultants, for sure. But the only actual thing I've seen so far is a great story from Magic's first indigenous american author. And when you're speaking on someone else's behalf, you tend to miss things. Like, Kaladesh is not the great representation of south asian culture that you might think when you jumped to it, and it's okay if you didn't know that, but it sort of proves the point that it's very difficult to actually protest on someone else's behalf. And I just haven't heard from anyone who has also mentioned they speak from authority or are impacted by this. That doesn't mean you're wrong, necessarily.

But here's the thing. Thunder Junction isn't history. It takes cues from the American West, sure, but it's a fake world. And sometimes it's okay for a fake world to ignore the bad things that happens in real life and create something more aspirational. Magic does this all the time. Magic doesn't have homophobia, but that isn't really realistic or representative of the real world, is it?

No one, and I mean literally no one, came to me and said that people of color needed to be ostracized and not allowed to work alongside the white people in the demon mob families of New Capenna. That racism was real, it was systemic, and it was violent. But did it need to be tackled in a fantasy crime drama based on america in the 20s? Should it have been? I don't think anyone would have enjoyed it as much. Sometimes it's just fun to play gangster.

Similarly, the colonization and manifest destiny that was the reality of the American West was tragic, but does that need to be our only depiction of indigenous peoples - being colonized? If they were erased completely from the narrative, that would be awful, but can't they just have fun being cool thunder slingers? The Atiin were developed with a consultant, and if you want answers ask Wizards to talk about it.

There's a reason the Oltec were depicted as being sealed off from the Immortal Sun drama that had happened on the surface. To have an aspirational mesoamerican culture that wasn't affected by the Dusk Legion and Azor and all that.

To put it in another perspective, does every period piece featuring black americans need to feature systemic racism to be respectful? Is Bridgerton disrespectful (I mean probably but not for that reason)?

The reason I've framed a lot of this as questions is because I don't necessarily think I know the right answer, especially not for a fantasy card game. I've worked with tribal governments in my emergency management career and spent a week on the Navajo Nation, and talked a lot about perspective on things, and I would not presume to know what the right answer to all of this is.

Edit: to be clear, Could it have been handled better? Probably. I will never deny that. But also it’s a complicated and fraught topic and I’d love to hear from the people wizards contracted who actually know what they’re talking about.

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yanderes-galore · 1 month

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Can I request a yandere concept for Pyramid Head (DBD)?

Sure, I haven't done much for him! He's a bit... complicated but here's what I have. Not really Yandere, mostly just dark, but again idk how to describe it.

Yandere! Pyramid Head (DBD) Concept

Pairing: Dubious

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Sadism, Torture, Obvious Violence, Imprisonment, Dark themes, Blood, Disturbing descriptions, Death mention, Touchy behavior, Dubious intentions.

Pyramid Head is a being of torment, judgment, and pain.

It's hard to think of him feeling anything else.

He's an executioner given a new purpose by The Entity.

That's about as much lore as we get.

He'd meant to be an unyielding force, one hellbent on passing painful judgment.

Your first few encounters, and probably the majority of the obsession, will result in pain.

However, in a realm where you're consistently sent to your death, that isn't really new.

Pyramid Head's intentions are impossible to read.

No one knows his motives.

Which means his intentions with his obsession are unknown too.

It's hard to tell since most matches end with you dead in some way.

The executioner is ruthless.

Be you wrapped in barbed wire, sent to a piercing cage to maul your flesh... or even sliced by that large blade before being placed on a hook...

Most of your encounters have you shivering... Your mind is always replaying those final moments of your flesh being torn from you....

Blood is a common sight when you encounter the executioner.

The crimson liquid clings to him with every kill.

What's worse for you? You're always saved for last.

Sometimes you are spared... most of the time you're merely put through your own special hell.

You can probably tell you are a favorite of some kind...

But it's hard to tell if that's a good or bad thing.

You're used to the pain and blood.

What you aren't used to... is Pyramid Head changing his pattern.

You always viewed Pyramid Head as some monotonous drone to The Entity.

Yet when he goes out of his way to prolong the chase, to toy with you, to occasionally give mercy...

You realize that this being has some sort of sentience.

What's even worse is it still doesn't explain its favoritism towards you.

There's times Pyramid Head abandons chase, or just "stares", or even ignores you.

There's other times he just won't leave you alone!

That's the scariest trait of Pyramid Head towards you.

His unpredictability.

Another thing you can't read is him targeting survivors around you first.

On a generator? He's picking off the guy next to you before you.

It could be jealousy... or something else entirely.

Regardless of his actions, you don't trust him.

He switches behavior too quickly... like he isn't sure how to act around you.

It's anything from slaughtering you to cornering you to pin you down.

He isn't sure what makes you react more.

Do you react more to pain...? Or pleasure...?

Another question... which one does he like more?

Pyramid Head is experimenting with you.

That's one of the reasons he acts so unstable.

He can't tell what way he likes to watch you squirm, just what is the difference if you squirm from affection or pain?

Sometimes he makes you squirm by exploring you with his touches, rough yet oddly affectionate.

He studies how you writhe before him...

But he also does the same thing with pain, not seeing any difference.

He only knows that he likes it.

Your best bet is to keep your distance, to evade him.

But no survivor is perfect... especially with a killer who seems to have studied your every move.

In fact, your attempt to evade him only makes him worse.

He seems to get irritated, hunting down other survivors to take his rage out on them.

By the time he finds you, saving you for last, he's covered in blood.

And you scream a lot more for evading him.

Pyramid Head is confusing due to what he is.

He's meant to be a being to punish people.

Yet he sees you, and isn't sure how to react.

He should harm you, punish you, torment you...

But he also wants to keep you away from other survivors, to lock you away, to keep you out of harm....

Pleasure and punishment blur a line with him.

Affection quickly becomes harm when he puts his hands on you.

It's all a personal hell for you.

Conflicting emotions leads to an indecisive yandere...

Which only seems to cause everyone more harm... just as The Entity likes it.

#yandere dead by daylight #yandere dbd #yandere silent hill #yandere pyramid head

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pastel-greene · 29 days

Text

The Daughter | king!sukuna x curse user!reader

Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 - Anger | Chapter 5

Summary: The mother of curses happens upon a blind child and decides to impart a portion of her power to them as an experiment of sorts. The power morphs the child in their image until they are part curse and part human. So what happens when they get employed by the King of Curses? Will humanity bloom as newfound emotions flow between the two? Or will they usher in an era of never ending terror?

Notes: not all of this will be canon, it will be loosely based off of the jjk universe :) taglist is open, comment your request on any chapter to be tagged in future ones

Genre: female reader, fluff, angst, ‘loads’ of smut, violence, sukuna true form but like not with the weird face lmao just double set of eyes and arms, dark reader

Warnings: profanity, explicit smut (two dick sukuna, sadistic sex, biting, oral m & f receiving, pet names, more to be added), violence, depictions of gore, dark minds cause yk, mentions of rape, toxic relationships, chaotic neutral reader, trauma, possessiveness from reader and sukuna, torture, vampire themes (reader’s blood is infused with the Mother of curses so if a curse user is to drink it it basically gives them a temporary stat boost bc what can i say vampire sukuna seems hot), cannibalism (no I don’t support it but it is true to his character), and more to be added as story progresses

Word count: 7.4k

This work contains mature content, so absolutely no minors I will block you if I find out :)

When the sun started drooping in the sky, Sukuna finally pulled out of your cum engorged holes, and streams of white gushed free. You let out a slight sigh of relief as it all drained from you. Your belly had grown a slight bulge from trying to contain all of it. You both lost track of the amount of times he came in you, but it had to be a lot given the pool of white that spread within the red. He watched in amazement as your holes healed and went from gaping to normal. Both still slightly twitched from all the stimulation they had gone through.

Sukuna never thought he would be able to fuck someone like that without them tearing apart. He had always either broken or held back with his concubines, never getting to do all the things he wanted. And there was still plenty he wanted to do, but he knew you would be there to take it. He was in no rush. He looked down as your blood soaked body started to get up and stretch. No sign of the mindless, shaking mess that was beneath him just minutes ago.

“Where are you going”, he asked, back to his usual authoritative tone.

“Uhm, probably to my room to bathe. What were you wanting a cuddle”, you asked with a smile as you teased him.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, “You are coming to my room tonight, we will wash there”, he said while getting up and coming over to you.

You crossed your arms, “What if I don’t want to?”

“Don’t care,” he said as he reached out and touched you, teleporting both of you to his chambers.

Why wouldn’t you want to come with him? Most people would be tripping over the opportunity to go to his chambers. Hell, not even Uruame has seen the inside of them. You were his and you would stay with him.

You let your eyes wander around his chambers. They were not what you had expected. You had kind of expected a villain’s lair. Dead corpses and bones scattered about. Ominous lighting showcasing the horrors within. Instead, you were standing in a room that had a ceiling lined with light, natural colored wood, tucked away by black support beams. The walls were a dark charcoal gray adorned with black trim pieces partially hidden by large paper sliding doors. In front of you stood a wide circle archway that led to a private bathing area complete with a hot spring.

“It’s pretty in here, completely different from the rest of the palace”, you said as you continued to look around.

He looked at you and scoffed a little while pulling you towards the water. “So the rest of the palace is not pretty, then”, he asked as he led you down into the bath water. The bath was filled with the overflow from the hot spring, making it perpetually warm.

You smiled while looking up at him, “Yes. It’s hideous and should be torn down. Not to mention egotistical. I mean, when I look up all I see are your past glories”.

He quirked an eyebrow up while joining you in the reddening water. “Should I have them put new conquests up there? Perhaps, your naked body submitting to me, squirting out my cum, sucking on my finger”, he asked as he ran his fingers over your body. He didn’t know why but he loved touching you. He wanted you to always be there for him to touch, never leaving his grasp.

You laughed at his comment before you kicked his legs out from under him and watched as he fell fully into the water, dodging his hands when they reached out for you. Did he really have you? Were you really his? He didn’t and you would show him that. His head ripped up from the water with confusion and anger etched on his features. He grabbed for you again and again, but you kept yourself just beyond his reach. He was about to teleport to you when you disappeared and reappeared behind him, holding him. You ran your hands in opposite directions along his abdomen. One landed upon his hip bone, nails grazing over the slight protrusion. The other landed between his pecs, your thumb petting the skin gently. He reached to touch you, but again you disappeared.

He looked around for you but you weren’t reappearing. He started worrying that you had actually left when you emerged from under the water, your hair draping over your form as water flew through it. “Was it you who conquered me, my King,” you said, turning to look at him, diluted blood tracing down your body. You walked back towards him, turning the water beneath your feet into steps. You were slightly above his eye level as your hand slipped under his chin to tilt it up. “I may have been on the bottom but it was you who fulfilled all my commands without hesitation. You wanted to please me, I could feel it. So who conquered who”, you teased.

He grabbed your throat, “You think you could conquer me”, he laughed as he squeezed your throat harder. “Just because I fucked you and brought you here to bathe you think you hold power over me”, his grip started to crush your windpipe and make your eyes bulge.

You were just playing around, but of course he couldn’t take a joke when his fucking ego was at stake. You just laughed at him, “I hold power over you because you let me. I don’t even have to use real magic to get you to submit to me. It shows in your eyes every time you look at me, even when you hurt me,” you said through gurgles. You had figured he would resort to hurting you instead of owning up to his own emotions.

Pissed. He was seething. He was going to have a nice bath with you, fuck you again in the water. Make you feel good, special even. All you had to do was be good. Now, he was snapping your neck. He felt blood trickle down his hand as bone shards splintered through your arteries and skin. You were still fucking smiling. He clenched his hand further and your head popped off and into the water below, your body following it. That you had not expected. You anticipated him hurting you, making you bleed, but killing you? You didn’t think he would take it that far. He stood there for a few minutes still panting with anger. He conquered you, not the other way around. He couldn’t be conquered, couldn’t be owned.

Your body floated up, red pouring from the base of your neck. He stared at you waiting for you to reattach yourself but you weren’t. Surely you weren’t dead, right? He waited several agonizingly long minutes before panic started to set in. This wasn’t right. You weren’t supposed to be able to break. You were supposed to be able to take all of his strength, all of his anger.

“(Y/N)”, he called out while pulling your body over to him. All of your energy was gone. Inside you was completely stagnant, empty. He started breathing quicker as he held your headless corpse. No, no, no this isn’t right. Why weren’t you coming back? You needed to come back to him, you weren’t allowed to leave him. He had never felt a negative emotion about death, but he was quickly being swallowed by them. The water around him started boiling as his energy ran rampant in it.

“(Y/N)”, he shouted over and over while shaking your cadaver.

“Yes, my King,” you said laying on the edge of the tub, feet dangling in the air and arms propped under you.

His face snapped to look at you before looking back to your “corpse”. It slowly turned back into water and slipped through his fingers. You hadn’t come out of the in between before. The figure he saw emerge from the water, was only that— water. You didn’t feel like being hurt, so you let it take the brunt for you. You were playing with him and it was making him seethe. He appeared on top of you, knees on either side of your body, cocks grazing your upper back as he pulled your hair back, forcing you to look up at him.

“Why do you hurt me? You are so sweet to me until I stop playing your game. You even went as far as killing me over a silly debate”, you say, your smile falling as the words come out. He was so sweet in earlier hours. Kissing up and down your body as if he worshiped you. Caressing your skin so softly it was like he was scared you would break. And now he was breaking you on purpose. You knew his intentions. He would hurt you over and over until you became the perfect doll for him. Now that you made him feel the way he did, he wanted to put you in a cage for only him to enjoy. You didn’t want that. You wanted to be an equal if you were going to be in a relationship, and you didn’t even know if you wanted him that way. You had just wanted sex and now he was making it more.

“Because you need to learn how to be good for me”, he said as he tightened his grip on your hair, pulling your head further back till it forced your lips to part. He used the hole as a receptacle for his spit before kissing you. Why couldn’t you just be good? He could give you everything, more than anyone else ever could if you would just behave.

“I don’t want this.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“What if I ran away”, you asked, watching as his face grew dark.

“I would hunt you down and break your limbs until they didn’t regenerate. And if I couldn’t find you, I’d go after Nanami or Shoko. I’d make them scream until you appeared”, he replied while kissing your hair line.

You teleported beside him, rushing him into a grapple. Two arms reached up to grab you but fell to the ground as they disconnected from his body. Tentacles of black shot through the bones in his legs and held them down. A dark mirage of wings contorted themselves from your back, the talons on the ends slamming down through his wrists and into the stone below. Your face was right above his and your scleras were darkening, teeth turning pointed, saliva turning black. Inhuman noises that sounded like strangled growls rang out everytime you breathed. Your energy was consuming you and he could feel it. Like a bomb waiting to go off.

“Don’t you ever. threaten. them. Or I will show you a world where you live as a human, not a lick of cursed energy in your veins. I will beat you over and over until you’re just a pile of viscera. And then, I’ll turn you into a curse and you’ll be forced to bow before me. The once terrifying King Sukuna turned into a mindless dog on a leash”, you say spitting black liquid onto his face.

The black tentacles continued to spiral up his legs to his abdomen. Poking him full of holes and binding him to the stone. Your consciousness was fading, you knew you needed to calm down before you went ballistic.

Sukuna had never seen you like this. Even your energy felt completely different. It was dark and cold like death, but also chaotic and fiery like hell. The longer it lasted, the less of your energy remained and the more the new one replaced it. He started to get the feeling that he might actually die if it took you over.

“Get off me, brat.”

You hated him. Every inch. He was so fucking up his own ass that he couldn’t interact with others in any intimate capacity. “This, whatever this is, is over. You will not fucking touch me again. I am not yours, you are not mine. I will work as planned and that is where our relationship will end”, you said giving him one last hateful look before disappearing.

“I’m sorry.” He said after you had disappeared. He hated himself for feeling the need to say it, hated himself even more for not being able to say it. He could have just killed you again and put you in your place. But he could feel the pain that radiated from you when you had watched him kill what he thought was you. It wasn’t physical, but emotional. It was supposed to feed his sadistic pleasures, instead it felt like he stabbed his own heart. He never wanted to feel that again. Never wanted you to feel that again. He knew you didn’t want to be chained down like he was now. He even knew it was selfish of him to force shackles on you. You were powerful in every sense of the word. You knew more about curses than anyone he had met, could do more than anyone. He should be proud to have someone he didn’t need to coddle. He was very old, but you were showing him things he had never seen before. Making him feel things he had always looked down upon. He could feel the feelings you had for him too. They were healing him in ways he never knew he needed. He didn’t want to lose them to hate.

Sukuna laid there for a while after his restraints dissipated, gaping wounds left in their place. He kept thinking of the look in your eyes. The hate in them was deeper than when he tore apart your hand. He wondered if the damage he had done was beyond repair, if you would look at him the way you used to again.

You had returned to your room still naked and partially covered in blood. You put a robe over you before peeking your head outside your door and asking your attending to start you a bath. They looked at you with mild horror from your appearance before hurriedly getting to work. Once it was ready, you sat and tried to relax but ended up angrily scrubbing your skin. Asshole. Dickhead. Dumbass. You wanted to hit him in the balls so hard he would sneeze cum. But through all the anger you were crying. You couldn’t believe he threatened them. You hadn’t really felt trapped here until he said that. You could always get there first and run away with them, but that wasn’t fair to them. They had people they cared about too and you knew Sukuna would wipe your whole town off the map if you ran. You could kill him, but you also couldn’t. You didn’t know why, but the thought of doing so made your whole body shake with grief. He killed you so easily, though. Without a second thought. You were stupid for getting close to him, letting him fuck you.

You got out of the bath and dried yourself off before putting on a nightgown. It was a long black dress made up of sheer layers. You tied a robe over it and sat on your bed. You were sitting there stuck in your thoughts when a knock rang out on your door. You could feel it was Geto but asked who it was all the same.

“It’s Suguru, I brought you dinner. I didn’t know if you had gotten the chance to eat.”

Your stomach growled at the thought. The last thing you had eaten was Sukuna’s finger and you wouldn’t even call that a meal. “Come in.”

When he entered he saw you on the bed, hair still wet and eyes slightly red. “Do you want to eat there or at the table”, he asked with what you noticed were two servings of food in his hand.

“Are you eating with me?”

He shrugged, “If you want me to. If not, I’ll eat in my room.”

You shook your head. Having his company would probably make you feel better, clear your head and give you perspective. You moved over to the table where you motioned for him to sit.

“Do you want me to move it back so you can sit across from me or?”

“Sitting beside you is fine. You’re not too smelly”, he said with a soft smile while sitting down, waiting for you to join him.

“I was asking out of hopes you would move given that you’re the smelly one. But I guess I can put up with it, since you come bearing food.” You sat down next to him and started eating. The food was delicious as always and warmed your body, but noticed he kept looking over at you and the way you sat while you both ate. “What is it?”

He just smiled and shook his head before putting an elbow on the table and propping a leg up just like you, “Nothing.”

“Asshole”, you said while shaking your head and smiling.

Silence grew between the two of you as you finished your food. Awkward tension bloomed within the air, you knew he had questions about what happened at the training grounds. You didn’t want to talk about it and he wouldn’t ask, but then the awkwardness would stay. So you gave in.

“You look like you have questions, it’s okay to ask.”

He looked at you with a sad look, “What happened when we left? Are you okay?”

You didn’t realize it, but tears started falling when he asked that. You weren’t okay. You felt like your whole world had shrunk to this tiny room and it was suffocating. You didn’t want to see Sukuna ever again but knew you would inevitably have to, and have to speak with honor when you did. You hated it. Hated it here. Hated him.

Suguru wiped your tears with his thumb before slowly pulling you into him. He smelled like cedar and jasmine. You wrapped your arms around him and let it all out. It had only been a few days and everything was already so messy and fucked up. You hated yourself for letting it get to the point it was at. Hated Sukuna for treating you like an object. Hated Uruame for attacking you when you hadn’t done anything. Hated the human part of you that felt these weak emotions. The emotions that kept you from just killing Sukuna and solving all your problems. You didn’t love him, but fuck you couldn’t deny the way he lit you on fire. The way your energies curled into one another until you felt like one. You were weak. You thought of the dagger the mother gave you, thought of your promise. You decided you would be human tonight and only for tonight. Tomorrow you would go back to being a monster. Tonight you were just a woman that hated herself.

You awoke to the sound of your servants knocking on your door. You faintly remembered Suguru laying you into the bed after crying into him for at least an hour. You stuck your palms into your eyes as you cringed from how you cried into him. You rolled around in your bed as you tried to fight off the memory before letting out a very long sigh. You told your servants to come in while sitting up in your bed.

“Good morning, ma’am. The King has sent for you. He said your training will start in an hour and you’re not to be late”, they relayed while bringing in your breakfast.

You dropped your head back and let out a groan. He was the last person you wanted to see. But you told yourself that you wouldn’t be dictated by feelings today. You would do your job, keep your head down, and act like nothing had happened between the two of you. You ate your breakfast and got ready, repeating that in your head like it was some sort of life-fixing mantra.

You were told to meet the King in the throne room instead of the training grounds. You weren’t sure if that was because of what happened yesterday or if it was preplanned. You approached the throne room and took a moment to collect yourself just like the last time you were here. Do your job, keep your head down, act like nothing happened. Servants swung the door open and you could feel Sukuna looking down on you from his throne while you entered.

He looked you up and down. You wore a black button up crop top, adorned with gold buttons, red trim, and his sigil on the back. He had requested it be put there when he looked over your clothes order, so that everyone could see you belonged to him. Under it, sat a black, fitted bodice that sank below the waistline of your pants. Your pants sat towards the tops of your hips and were loose around your curves. The slack bunched around where they were tucked into your steel toed boots. Beautiful girl.

“I heard you had summoned me, my King”, you said, keeping your voice professional.

“I did. Your training is going to begin today, or well not so much training as your first day on the job. I have a meeting with a few generals, at least one of which I am sure is plotting against me. I want you to get into their minds and write down who the traitor is and their plan. At the end, I will read it and gauge the others' reactions. Should they quickly condemn them, they will live. If they hesitate or defend him, they will die”, he explained.

The concept was easy enough. Get into their minds, find the traitor, discover the plan. “Are any of them sorcerers?”

He let out a little chuckle. “Gods no, they’re all weak little humans. I only keep them around because it keeps their troops in line. However, with you being here, the loss of some troops is not a big deal”, he said, trying his best to show you that he acknowledged your power. Acknowledged you.

Realistically he could cut down most of his troops and replace them with your curses if it was that much of a hassle. What better army than one that couldn’t be detected by most of the population? One that had powers overshadowing any human capabilities. You contemplated telling him about that option.

“Is there something on your mind?”

You looked up at him before shooting your eyes back down to the ground. “Well, I am not against your plan. I think it is good to make an example of the traitor, but it can also put contempt in the other generals’ hearts. I think it might be good to have a curse shadow the remaining ones. I would give them the ability to see it and tell them it was there to keep an eye on them. That only they could see it and wouldn’t be able to tell any of the troops about it. I think it would keep them in line with minimal effort on your part.”

“My, my, maybe you are meaner than me”, he said with a proud tone. He wanted to see you smile from his joke, but you didn’t. In fact, it felt more like you grimaced. But with your head down he couldn’t tell for sure. “Where do we get said curses?”

You twiddled your thumbs a little bit, something to look at and remind yourself to keep your head down. “I can summon them and order them to watch the generals”, you said flatly.

“You can summon curses? How will they know what they’re looking for? The curses I have seen haven’t had much of a brain”, he questioned while two of his arms crossed and the others rested on his chin and knee, pointer fingers tapping in contemplation.

You sighed not really wanting to go through all the details but going through with it anyway since you brought it up. “I can create curses from cursed energy. If there is a fear of something, I can use the energy and craft a curse that embodies that fear. Previously, I would use my magic to create hysteria around things I wanted as curses. Like zombies for instance. I wanted one so I used my energy to make it look like people’s loved ones had risen from the grave and were attacking the town. The word of flesh eating, undying creatures that should have already been dead spread to surrounding towns and thus energy for a curse was created. I took it and put it in a doctor that had been hung for experimenting on his patients. He was intelligent and knew about anatomy so he was the perfect vessel to put it into.”

He just stared down at you for a minute, processing the fact that you just said you created a zombie. Does that mean vampires could be real? Tch, he couldn’t believe you joked with him about that and made him feel so stupid. “So, to be clear, you can create curses. And you were behind the fall of Nanmoku? And the zombie hysteria? All because you wanted a pet zombie.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

He just laughed. You were fucking crazy. He rubbed his hand over his face, still slightly chuckling, his tongue feeling the inside of his cheek. “Show me him.”

“Okay, but you should know he is not exactly all there. I mean he is intelligent but crazy as hell. Like we will look sane next to him”, you said while summoning him. Black smoke pooled on the ground as hands with long overgrown nails reached around the edge and started tapping.

“Enough with the theatrics Miro”, you said while tapping your foot.

He pulled on the ground, shooting up and landing on the floor as the portal closed. “Yes my Lady, my apologies. I humbly offer my body to beat for my transgressions”, he said while crawling down in front of you. His back offered up to you in an arch, head shaking in anticipation as suppressed giggles fell through his teeth. His hair was stringy and white like a spider’s web and fell over his eyes. Eyes of light blue and dark brown that he had confiscated from his victims. His skin was pale with multiple holes carved between his neck and collar bones, making the the edges look like a connection of veins. His lips were pink and curved higher than they should up his cheeks revealing a perfect set of teeth, teeth that all seemed a little different. His abdomen was scrawny, the skin pulled taut across his muscles and dipping where his stomach was. Burn marks that resembled X’s went across each of his nipples and an O was scorched over his heart. A taunt for enemies to hit him there. He wore bandages that reached halfway up his abdomen and baggy pants that hung low over them.

The King looked down at him with lips curled in disgust. “So, what does he do?”

Miro looked up at the King as if just realizing they weren’t alone and sneered. “I can do anything my Lady asks of me. I can gut others, I can gut myself. I can bring people’s loved ones back from the dead and play house all day with them. Ooo I just love the way the little ones shake and sniffle and how the older ones comfort them and put on a brave front. None of them wanting to upset their returned family member. I play with my toys until they bore me and then I get rid of them all to make room for new ones. Some toys I keep, those that are strong. I keep them in my collection and use them to fight for my Lady. To keep her safe. To make her happy”, he said, getting more and more excited with each word. His whole body vibrated as he laughed.

You kicked him in the gut, his body rolling from the impact. “He didn’t ask you which meant you didn’t have permission to talk. Now pick yourself up and quietly sit beside me on your knees with your head down”, you said as your annoyance with him grew. You had always wanted a zombie but this one became crazier than you expected. Begged you to beat him, to experiment on him like you and Ieiri used to. The only upside of the crazy was that he was fully devoted to you.

He moaned out a laugh as he crawled next to you, tucking his knees under him, head down. You rubbed your face in slight embarrassment as you halfheartedly said, “Ta daa”.

You weren’t lying when you had said he wasn’t all there. Sukuna wondered if you had done something to make him that way or if that was just how he came. Crazy aside, Sukuna could feel a good amount of energy coming off of him, your energy mixed with another. It was undeniably stronger than any other curse he had ran into, and with intelligence he was all the more lethal. If you could really create and control curses on that level, he wondered just how many you had stored away. And how many people had died for your pleasure.

“You have more like him”, he asked.

You chuckled and shook your head, “Like him? No. Intelligent and strong? Yes.”

Sukuna sighed while looking up. “Who would you send with the generals?”

“It would depend on what they feared most. I would give them a curse born from their greatest fear, makes my curse stronger and them more obedient. Plus, watching a human consumed by terror is always fun.”

Little monster. “We will try it, but you will replace the army with curses if it ends with me having to slaughter the troops.”

You had already considered that an option so you had no qualms with that idea. “Works for me, my King.”

He hated that you weren’t letting him hear you say his name. Such a simple yet effective way to punish him. He got up from his throne and started descending down to you. Miro looked up at him before you smacked the back of his head, making him look back down. “You can dismiss him. He is not needed for the meeting”, he said now standing a few feet in front of you.

You looked down at Miro and he began to sink through the floor, back where he came from. Now that it was just you and Sukuna, the room felt awkward. Each step he took to close the gap made you feel like you were suffocating. You could see his black socks and sandals stop in front of your boots.

“Look up at me”, he said softly. Hand moving to touch you but not completing the motion.

You looked up at him, his eyes looked like they were withholding endless words that his mouth would not let out. “I shouldn’t have killed you”, was all he said before walking away and motioning you to follow.

In the war room, you sat beside the King, paper and quill in hand. The generals filtered in with their heads down greeting Sukuna with utmost respect. There were eight of them in total, four sat on each side of a long table with you and Sukuna at the head. They talked about various matters in politics that made you want to shove the quill through your ears. You were thankful you didn’t really have to listen and started poking about in the general’s head closest to you. He was a large man, not like Sukuna, but larger than most humans. He had a daughter and wife back home that he seemed to dote on. You could tell he did not like the King, but would never rebel for the sake of his family. You looked at memories of how his daughter ran into his arms when he returned home, just like the woman who contracted you. They both had wrapped their arms around their children with such care, hearts warm and full. You hated it.

The next man’s head was so bald it hurt your eyes to look at. It was like a mirror that refracted light right into your eyes, a very sweaty mirror. He had a wife that abused him regularly. Calling him names, hitting and throwing objects at him, sleeping with other men. He liked it though, got off on the abuse. A well respected general secretly a masochistic cuckhold. What a cliche, you thought. He had no thoughts on Sukuna. He was used to serving people and didn’t seem to care much about who as long as he had money to give his wife.

The man after him had long blue hair tied into a low ponytail. It looked better than yours and had you curious about what he used to get it so soft looking. You found out that he was one dark ass motherfucker when you went looking for the answer. He kept a haram of younger men at his mansion and tortured them regularly. Sometimes he even made them torture each other or themselves. His hair was so soft because he soaked it in a blend of his discarded servant’s organs and cum. He had heard hair needed protein to look nice and that was his solution. Cleaner methods existed but to each their own you figured. He liked Sukuna more than he should. He wanted to be chained up by him and used. He would follow him off a cliff as long as he continued to meet his gorey ideals. If Sukuna slipped up, his thoughts would shift to owning him instead. Sukuna not being a monster didn’t seem like an issue, though.

Next in line was a very buff yet very small man. He had a long red beard that showcased intricate braids. The hair on his head was also tied up in various styles and bright red. He hated Sukuna. You didn’t even have to really dig to feel the hatred he felt. Apparently, he had gifted Sukuna his daughter when she turned 18 and hadn’t been allowed to see her since. Ιt seemed he owned a massive farming setup that provided most of the food for the region. He had given up his daughter as an offering so that the King didn’t destroy the operation and condemn the region to starvation. He wanted to kill Sukuna, but would never make a move for the sake of his daughter and people. Pathetic. Not like you could really judge, though.

The fifth man had black hair that was cut close to his scalp and a scar that interrupted his hairline. It was him. You could hear all of his thoughts so loudly. Sukuna had murdered his daughter and son after his wife spoke out against him at a festival. You remembered hearing about it. He had strung the woman up by her own intestines for the whole festival to see. When her children saw it they cursed the King and exploded where they stood, a warning for all other viewers. He had lost his whole family that day and had to sit there quietly like a coward while they were killed. He planned to team up with the 8th man sat down. He had also lost his family to Sukuna because his baby would not stop crying at a different festival. Sukuna took the baby from the woman’s hands and bit its head off before throwing the corpse back in the mother’s lap. Ιt was then mother who wouldn’t shut up, so he silenced her too. Her head fell off without any movement from Sukuna. He turned to look at the general with his baby’s blood still flowing down from his mouth, challenging him to look up at him or step out of line. He even spat what was left of his son’s skull in front of him, but was met with no reaction. Pleased, he walked back to his seat.

Their plan was to poison the King at the next festival by dosing their newborns with poison as well as their new wives in hopes he would repeat his previous actions and ingest their blood. Sukuna may have been a monster, but they were no better using others as bait to be sacrificed for their petty vengeance. You wrote down what you learned and Sukuna’s lower left eye watched as you wrote. You slid the paper before him on the table. The generals eyeing it with curiosity. You sat there, bored and disgusted with the men before you, casually doodling on the leftover paper as you waited for the meeting to end.

When it came to an end and the generals were paying their respects Sukuna spoke. “So, what kind of poison did you plan to use, General Sho and General Ayato?”

The color drained from their faces as they froze. The others sat in confusion, but completely still as they noticed the air change.

“King Sukuna, whatever do you mean”, Sho, the man with short black hair asked with a clearly shaky voice.

The King smiled as he read out their plan and reasoning, their bodies shaking as they realized they were screwed. Sukuna looked to the other generals, “What do you guys think we should do about this little problem, hmm?”

Some closed their eyes, others smiled, but they all said “Punishment for treason against the King is death for the guilty and their family.”

Sukuna smiled as he looked at the other two, their heads finally raising to look at him, “Then I guess we have a decision gentleman”. Lines of blood appeared on their bodies before they fell into piles of pieces. “And before the rest of you go, my assistant has a gift for each and every one of you. You may look up.”

The remaining men looked up at you as you smiled, then they saw the monsters within the room with them. Weaponless, some of them started swinging before their assigned curses restrained them. “Now, I don’t think that is anyway to receive a gift from the King’s palace”, you said. “You’re supposed to smile and say thank you.”

Some of your curses pushed the men’s faces up into a smile and whispered the words in their ear, instructing them to say it. Fear filled the room until the air was thick. Some of the men saw what happened and immediately started thanking you profusely with wide smiles. The mother’s smile.

“You’re very welcome. They will accompany you every hour of the day to ensure no other coupes are designed. They will not interfere with your lives in any way. Only you and your fellow generals will be able to see them. Once you leave this room, you are to never mention them again. This is an order from the King. Failure to comply will be considered treason and death will be carried out immediately by your new friends.”

Their eyes were all wide, thoughts erratic and viciously mean, hands shaky, breathing short, but heads nodding in understanding. Sukuna told them they were dismissed and they all left trying their best to not acknowledge their gift’s presence.

Once the door closed, you let out a sigh and stretched your back. The meeting was boring, but the end was fun. Different from the work you used to do, but not entirely.

“That was excellent”, Sukuna said while looking at you. You peeked a look back before looking back down. “You can look at me”, he said hoping you would.

“I am okay my King”, you replied. You were still upset with him for killing you, even if he apologized.

“It wasn’t a question”, his patience with you was growing thin. He knew you were mad, and he guessed you had a right to be, but he was getting tired of it. He didn’t like the way you were making him feel. He would’ve just hit you until you acted better, but that approach was what got him here. He didn’t really know any other way to approach it, though. Never had a need to, never had feelings to hurt.

You looked at him, irked with the way he ordered you, “Yes, my King?”

“Stop calling me that”, he said as he scooted closer to you.

He was so close you could feel the warmth radiating from him. You didn’t want to, but part of you just wanted to give in and lean against him. “What would you liked to be called then? Huh? Lord Spooky?”

He just stared at you. Repeating the name a few times before he laughed. “I will let you call me Lord Spooky if you forgive me for killing you.”

“Did you hear the words that just came out of your mouth? You think letting me call you a pet name makes up for taking my head off?”

He pursed his lips together and shrugged, “I mean if you think about it, I technically didn’t kill you, I killed something that looked like you.”

You raised your eyebrows, lips twitching in anger as you slapped him across the face. He didn’t move much but blood did trickle from his cheekbone. From the look in your eyes, he knew he said the wrong thing.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I was trying to make a joke. I just wanted to see you smile. I don’t like you being mad at me. It makes me feel weird and I don’t know how to deal with it without hitting you. But if I hit you, you just become more mad at me and I am starting to think you might go ballistic on me if I continue. I don’t want to fight you. Which is also weird for me”, he said. It was the first time you had heard it talk so candidly. It was hard to be spiteful towards him when he was being so open, made you feel like a child. So you rubbed your hand over your mouth and decided to be just as honest.

“I don’t like it when you hit me. Most people don’t appreciate being hit just saying. I also don’t like how hot and cold you are. One minute you are telling me sweet things and the next you’re literally killing me. I don’t want to be owned either. I know you think I am yours because you enjoy the way I make you feel, but I am no one’s. Not ever again will I be owned. Threatening me is whatever, but if you threaten my friends again, I will make good on the threat I made. I know you’re the King and have to keep up appearances, and if I actually did something majorly wrong, then I would understand hurting me the way you do. But don’t say you care about me and want me to open up and play around with you and then punish me for it. It isn’t fair and I won’t tolerate it. I don’t want to fight you either, but I will if it comes to it”, you told him while making eye contact. He sat quietly for a few minutes while processing what you said.

“I won’t hit you, unless you commit a great offense. I want you to joke around with me, but you may only do it when we are alone like this. Otherwise you need to respect me as a King and follow the rules”, he hesitated, whatever he was about to say proving difficult for him, “I am- I feel-… I regret threatening your friends and killing you, truly. I want you to be mine, and me to be yours. I can’t promise I won’t be possessive, but I will try my best to not control you. I want you to be happy when you see me, not full of hatred. I do care about you and I want you to enjoy your life here. As pathetic as it sounds, I would like you by my side. Today, you were phenomenal. The way you asserted yourself over them, toyed with them, it was so attractive.”

You could tell he wasn’t lying or speaking in half truths. These was his thoughts laid bare. You reached out and grabbed his hand, fingers holding it from both sides as your thumbs ran up and down his palm. “So where does that leave us, then?”

He didn’t really know. He had never been close to someone like he was you. You weren’t an enemy, or a toy to play with, you were you. An anomaly he never saw coming. “Wherever you want us to be”, he said as he moved one of his hands to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I want to go slow. Everything up until now has felt so chaotic, so rushed and messy. And I mean, don’t get me wrong, there were good parts. Some very good parts”, you smirked at him, “but we need more. We need to figure out how to be around each other without any hidden intentions, how to relax in each other, before asking for more.”

He caressed your face looking at your lips but holding back, “Okay.”

Notes: hehe this chapter was a pain to write. Hopefully it comes off clear and not confusing to read :0 Extras v v

- Miro would 100% fight Sukuna for the reader. Miro loves the reader unconditionally and has an arsenal with some faces we all know that will be revealed later, making him quite the pain to fight. He is also hard as hell to kill, because his whole existence is made from being undead and “unkillable”. Sukuna could do it, but it’d definitely take some effort.

- Poor bb Geto. He doesn’t know the King and reader fucked. He thinks that any screaming he heard was from you two fighting/you being tortured and that you started crying because it was too hard to relive. He regrets being the one that brought you here.

- Sukuna is finally learning how to use his words. He would never let anyone else know, he would tell them he beats you because that’s somehow more acceptable than talking to you. He will still have outbursts in the future and there will still be more hateful sex to come, but he is trying. When he thought you were actually dead it felt like his whole world stopped. The breath left his lungs, gravity felt too heavy, his body felt weak and hot, he hated that feeling. He hated how you felt looking at him holding your fake corpse too. He doesn’t want to ever feel that again. He is fr being forced to learn empathy.

Taglist: @missroro @roxytheimmortal

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