#I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT COMPELLED ME TO EAT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gurugirl · 6 months

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Don't Speak

*images are for aesthetic only

priest!harry x subby!reader | soft dom!harry x bratty/sub!reader

Summary: Y/n accidentally says something in front of everyone at prayer group that gets her in trouble with the priest.

A/N: I know it's been so long since I gave y'all any priestrry but I missed him and his pet so I was compelled to write this! Hope you enjoy! And if you're tagged it's bc you are either on my main general taglist or you asked to be tagged in anything for priestrry (even tho it's been so long) just let me know if you want to be removed and I will! xoxo

Word Count: 2,692

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, religious mentions, smut, sub/dom dynamic, spanking, punishment

Forgive Me, Father masterlist

She hadn’t meant to say it in front of everyone during prayer group. It didn’t have to mean anything if no one read too much into it. She was only responding to a simple question but she said we.

We plan to eat after the meeting.

We, as in the mention of herself and Harry. The two of them doing something together. She hoped they interpreted it as her saying -with someone other than Harry. But she also looked at Harry directly when she said it. Maybe no one saw that.

But Harry certainly did. And the look she received from him was scalding. She knew she was in for it once everyone had gone.

No one followed up to ask who was the other part of this we she spoke of. She wished they would. She could say anyone and make up a little lie. Her brother. Her roommate. Anyone. But no one asked.

And she wasn’t sure if the room felt tense or if it was just her. Because after she said it, she felt like everyone was suddenly looking at her differently. And of course, the way Harry was warning her with his eyes wasn’t helping matters.

So she kept her head down and her mouth closed until the end. And when everyone began to leave, like always, she walked out of the house and to the side to wait until everyone was gone.

And even when the coast was clear she hesitated for a moment. But ultimately going back inside with Harry to face whatever kind of reprimand he was going to give her was better than waiting and wondering about what he might do. Perhaps she could plead her case.

Stepping into the living room she found Harry folding up the metal chairs and placing them tidily in their little wooden cubby behind the couch. He walked across the room without even a glance in her direction and into the kitchen with a glass. Standing still in her spot she could hear the glass being placed in the sink and then his footfalls as he began to walk back to the living room.

“Father, I’m sorry. It just slipped out. I don’t think anyone noticed–“

“Go stand and face the corner. Don’t speak.”

She gulped and gave a quick nod as she scurried toward the corner of the living room and let her limbs fall loose as she waited for the priest to finish what he was doing. She wanted to protest. To tell him it was an accident and to go easy on her but she knew better than to resist.

Minutes stretched on as she listened to Harry cleaning up and moving back and forth from the living room to the kitchen before she heard him approaching behind her and then stopping.

She could feel him standing behind her but he kept silent for a beat or two before she felt his breath at the back of her neck, “Tell me what happens if someone finds out about us, Y/n.”

She inhaled a shaky breath and squeezed her eyes closed, “Well, you could face expulsion from the church. Everything you’ve worked so hard for that you love the most would be gone. Or they’d transfer you and after penance, you’d have to promise to permanently end our relationship.”

The floorboard creaked as Harry stepped in closer and she felt his warm hands at the tops of her arms, “I could lose what I love, yes. But if it came to choosing you or the church do you know what I would do, pet?”

“Father, I would like to believe you’d choose me. But I would understand if you chose the church.”

“Do you doubt how deep my love for you is?”

Y/n opened her eyes and took a deep breath, the plaster of the white wall in her view, “I don’t doubt how deeply you love me. I feel it every moment. But I also know how deep your love is for God and for your vocation.”

“I’m angry that you let it slip out like that so freely in front of everyone. But I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I want you to know that I’ll always choose you. Over everything else. Over my priesthood. Over God. You’re the most important thing I have.

A stray tear escaped her eye as he pressed his chest into her back and suddenly lifted his hands and she felt her red leather collar being placed on her neck as he adjusted the buckle, “Besides, I’ve slipped up too haven’t I? When I thought no one was watching. But you slipped up in front of many sets of eyes and ears. Let’s hope they didn’t notice the way you looked at me when you said it.”

She turned to look back at him to respond but one of his hands gripped the back of her neck, “Face the wall. I’m not done with you yet. As much as I understand it was a mistake, there are consequences for your actions, pet. Take off this dress.”

Biting her lip she silently pulled the fabric over her head and Harry noted she was not wearing panties. He imagined she did that on purpose. She often enjoyed leaving things uncovered in case they were in a situation where he could just take her. But she was cheeky too so maybe it was just to get a rise out of him.

“No panties while we were all sat here praying to our Lord. Fucks sake, Y/n.”

The first strike to her bottom had her wobbling forward, palms on the walls, and bending slightly at the waist. She was used to being spanked and when he did it with his hands it was a treat. She loved his hands on her. No matter how they were touching her.

Another open-palmed swat and then another had her dipping her head and closing her eyes as she braced herself.

She felt his hand smooth up her spine and press down between her shoulders, “Bend down further. Keep your hands on the wall, legs together. Think about what you can do to not make the kind of mistake you made today while I get your paddle.”

A big gulp was pulled down her throat as Harry stepped away. What could she have done differently? Maybe just be on top of her thoughts at all times? Never waver in front of people? She wasn’t sure. How was it possible to not accidentally slip up once in a great while? She had been so good all this time. Never doing anything that would really tip anyone off. The slip-up was bound to happen at some point.

When Harry returned she felt a kind hand rub over her bottom, “You get five on each side and no crying. Once I’ve given you five you’ll tell me what you could have done differently and if you haven’t come up with something you’ll get another five on each side. Understand?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Count for me.”

Every strike to her sensitive bottom had her keening and gasping. She counted each one, five on each side (so ten really and she would have complained but now wasn’t the time).

“Now, tell me. What can you do to make sure that never happens again? How can we avoid it?”

She took a deep breath, still reeling from her stinging bottom and knowing she was about to get five more (ten more) because she hadn’t come up with an idea quite yet.

“Uhh… I just need to think harder and not let myself really look at you… uh… I can keep my mind sharp so I don’t say things I shouldn’t on accident.”

“No. That’s not it. Count for me.”

The next round hurt more. The smooth leather landing against her sore ass had her arching her back away from him and hissing between numbers she pushed from her lungs. Every one biting a little more than before.

But when she got to her final five (ten) she thought of an answer that she felt would suffice and nearly hopped up with a grin, but knowing better she stayed in her position.

“Have you come up with an answer for me?”

“I can just not speak. I’ll say my throat hurts and keep my mouth closed the whole meeting.”

“That will only work once or twice. But every meeting, pet? You can do better than that. Count for me.”

She let her tears slip out of her eyes as she racked her brain for the answer he might want. Every number she counted got lost in her fuzzy brain and the ache from the paddle on her bum started to numb and the shift in how it made her feel manifested in arousal, which the priest did not miss as he could see her pussy with the way she was bent for him; That obvious glisten beginning to seep out from her labia.

“Tell me what you can do to avoid making comments like you did today.”

She inhaled and moaned softly, “I think that I should maybe not come to all the prayer meetings. I can stay in my cage if I’m feeling a little off maybe? Then I won’t have the opportunity to at all. And me not being at all the meetings would be good I think. Because no one is always at every meeting. Probably good for me to sit back for a while.”

The paddle fell to the floor and she felt Harry’s hands gently caressing her bottom, his fingers gliding over the raised skin left behind from the paddle, “You are so smart, pet. See? That’s perfect. Don’t move from your spot. Keep your thighs together.”

She heard the clank of his buckle and smiled to herself. She loved it when he had his way with her. She didn’t even care what he was about to do, she welcomed him wherever and however he wanted.

When his hands returned to her back and gently pressed over her bum she sighed as he leaned over and kissed her shoulder blade, “I love you. I know you didn’t do it on purpose,” she listened as he spoke and could tell he was stroking himself behind her the way his voice was wavering, breathy. “No matter what happens, you’re mine and I’m keeping you, okay?” His voice hitched up just a bit as he scraped his cockhead through her folds. She was tempted to spread her thighs but she resisted since he’d been very clear with her to keep them together.

“Yes, Father,” she breathed as she felt his smooth tip collecting her arousal, gliding up and down through her crease.

“And since you didn’t do it on purpose and I’ve given you 15 spanks as punishment,” 15 on each side, she corrected in her mind, “I’ll let you come but you may not move. I don’t want you spreading your legs to keep steady either. I’ll hold you up if you start to fall.”

The sudden slicing of his wide cock through her delicate pussy entrance had her groaning and dropping her mouth wide open. She was so wet and gushy already. She felt her arousal seep down to the back of her thigh as he began to thrust into her, juices leaking down from her opening.

Harry’s hand landed on the wall next to her head as his other clutched her hip tight, thick crown splitting her in half, and it all felt even tighter inside with her thighs pressed together. But her legs started to sway as he took heavy strokes, hips smacking against her ass. A deep moan vibrated from his chest and the way she was squeezing around him was like heaven. If he had to go to hell for his sins it would be worth it. She was worth everything to him.

When the priest noticed his pet having difficulty keeping steady he pushed into the brim, filling her completely, and gently nudged and nudged deeper into her, rutting in with hips pasted to her ass, “Being so good for me, pet. Keeping your legs together as I asked. Feels so good with you around me…”

She could hear the tightness in his voice. Her priest was enjoying her pussy. His pussy. Everything was his. All of her belonged to him. She kept her palms on the wall as he fucked into her, keeping his body tucked against her, spreading her open completely and fitting right up against her cervix like she needed.

“Want to be good for you, Father. Want to make you happy and give you everything I can. You own every single part of me.”

He groaned and rutted forward making her inhale sharply, “I do own you don’t I pet? That’s why I call you my pet. Because you’re mine and you always will be. Isn’t that right?”

No one would have ever guessed the pair stood together in the corner fucking in the small living room had the kind of secret they did. No one would have ever guessed the man was a priest and the girl on his cock with the red leather choker was his dirty secret. His divine secret. No one would know the kinds of sinful things they did together every day. If they glanced at the marks on her bare bottom they wouldn’t have assumed they were from the hands of a priest.

“Yes! Father, I’ll always be yours. I’m your possession, your property…”

They both panted as Harry’s cock worked its magic inside of her hot cunt. The wetness of her walls surrounding him and coating him was the perfect spot for him to snug into and spill his seed into.

Her lip curled up as she coughed out a loud moan and arched her back, eyes closed and in sheer bliss from her insides being rearranged. She was weak for him and her orgasm couldn’t wait any longer.

“Please! Can I come, Father? Oh my god…”

He could feel her shaking, thighs trembling so hard he had to hold her hips on both sides so she didn’t tip over.

“Aww poor thing. It aches, doesn’t it? Little pet needs to have her release, doesn’t she? Got all stressed out after misspeaking. You can come. Give me your orgasm, Y/n. Let me feel you… want to feel you milking my cock…”

Harry’s own strong thighs were beginning to quiver as his balls began to squeeze up against his body, his release just moments away.

She cried out and tensed as she spasmed and clenched around him, wave after delicious wave of wet orgasm gushing from her until she felt his grip tighten and then his chest brush into her back, his lips on her shoulder, “Come for me, pet. Holy fuck…”

He groaned at how her walls pulsed, beckoning him to come, sucking his cock deep into her tummy with every squeeze until he growled and bit down on her skin, cock pumping and throbbing inside of her.

The priest had considered not letting her come at first. But he was glad he changed his mind because there was nothing better than to have her siphoning his come from his cock as she fluttered around him and her pretty voice whined and begged…

His hot come began to leak out of her pulsing hole as he thrusted in and when he stood back to watch as he pulled out and plunged in again he saw her cream coating him.

Her legs were still wobbly as he pulled out and gently turned her in his arms and pushed his lips to hers. She felt his warm hands on her face and she knew she had nothing to worry about with her priest. He loved her and she knew it without question. Misspeak or not, he wasn’t going to just give up on her because of an accident.

Bumping his nose to hers he whispered against her lips, “I’ll always choose you. Over everything. Don’t ever doubt my love for you, pet.”

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sabertoothwalrus · 6 months

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I’ve seen you post some labru stuff and I’m curious what your thoughts on it are. personally I don’t see it? I can buy Kabru having feelings for Laios, but I think Laios wouldn’t be interested in Kabru, so it makes me wonder why so many people ship them. (Tbh I feel like Kabru has more chemistry with Mithrun anyway)

Sorry if this ask sounds rude, I just genuinely don’t understand the appeal of the ship, but I want to understand and I trust your analysis of characters very much :] maybe there’s something I’m missing

I really like both ships, actually!

For labru, there’s sooooo much I could talk about. The inherent homoeroticism of being narrative foils. The inherent homoeroticism of being the king’s advisor. All of chapter 76. The fact that Kabru has mask upon mask upon mask, and Laios is the first person that made his facade absolutely crumble.

Kabru struggles with being genuine!!! Everything he says and does is so perfectly calculated, even when he sort of means it. But since Laios doesn’t get social cues, Kabru gets thrown for a loop.

I get so frustrated when people act like Kabru still hates Laios by the end of the manga!!!!! He killed those corpse retrievers for being corrupt, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to kill Laios. He has such a strong sense of justice, and knew that killing Laios would be a mistake. Because, after meeting him, he could tell he wasn’t actually evil. He’s strange, sure, but not evil.

Kabru DEFINITELY wants to be friends with Laios!! He was not lying about this!!!

But this last comic shows how much Laios wants to be friends with Kabru, too. He’s so nervous after calling Kabru his friend 😭 he doesn’t want to be presumptuous and fuck it up again.

Laios does show an interest in Kabru, at least when Laios thinks he’s interested in eating monsters too. Like,, what was up with THIS

Laios’s gaze is LINGERING. Plus, (this is before that bit at Thistle’s house when he forgets his name) he brings up Kabru when they first form their plan to eat Falin.

And maybe this is just because of my own personal experiences, but Laios reminds me a lot of my own girlfriend. I think they have a similar flavor of gay/aspec & autism combo where, had I not asked her out first, she probably never would have considered being interested in me. But she was very down when I did.

The tricky part about labru is more the political aspect. Regardless of whether you see Laios as aroace or not, he’s in a situation where he will probably get married. He had a fiancée before he was age 13, likely betrothed since he was a baby. He’s already comfortable with the idea of getting married because He’s Supposed To.

However, Laios is king, and could make gay marriage legal if he wanted to (He would probably do this for his sister and Marcille before considering it for himself ). But at the same time, I think Kabru would object to Laios making whatever policies he wants without considering the repercussions of how other kingdoms might react, especially when they’re just getting Melini off the ground and need lots of support from other countries. Laios and Kabru getting gay married anyway and dealing with the aftermath could make for a really compelling story.

I do think Kabru would be a good ruler. He’s already fit for it. He speaks a dozen languages, he knows people and their motivations, and likes politics. The manga already joked about Chilchuck’s daughters trying to marry a king, so it seems like noble blood isn’t too important, but Kabru’s foster family IS nobility. When it comes to heirs, I do like trans Kabru headcanons, but at the same time, I think it’d be cute if they adopt anyway. Kabru seems like he’d have strong feelings about adoption given,,, yknow.

The alternative version of labru to this is Laios gets straight married out of obligation, and Kabru is his mistress hdhdhshsj. I don’t know if I could see Laios doing that? or if Kabru would risk the scandal of being outed as Royal Advisor and Regent trying to seduce the king. It could go SO downhill. but maybe that would be fun.

NOW FOR KABUMISU.

I knew people shipped them, and I could see the basis for it while reading, but I wasn’t really sold on it until the very end. There’s something about “I had no desires left. I decided to create new desires, and one of them is you” that’s really charming.

There’s also something funny about “the demon ate my heterosexuality so I’m gay now”

I think it’s interesting that Kabru hates elves. He was raised by them, and he hates them. He hates feeling patronized by them. He made absolutely sure that elves wouldn’t take control over Melini, not just for his sake, but for Rin’s.

But Mithrun’s interactions with Kabru are founded on more mutual respect. Though, that’s not to say that Mithrun doesn’t still have his biases towards short lived races..

Where Laios doesn’t understand social cues, Mithrun does but just doesn’t care. For that reason, I think Kabru would enjoy spending time with Mithrun. It’d give him a break from his compulsion to calculate all of his social interactions. But at the same time, Kabru is the KING at bottling his emotions. Mithrun is blunt, but also doesn’t care enough to pry. If Kabru had anything bothering him, I could imagine him seeking Mithrun’s company to avoid thinking about it. Could make for a fun dynamic.

I do think it’s funny that Milsiril 1) took care of Mithrun for potentially 20 years and 2) is only four years older than him. I imagine this could lead to funny situations.

I don’t ship things for no reason! I think both of these could work platonically, romantically, one-sided, or even “requited but they don’t do anything about it.” Their relationships compel me and I think it’s sort of bad faith to brush off either like they’re nothing more than baseless yaoi pair-the-spares. To me, I see just as much of a foundation in the source material as farcille.

After all, dungeon meshi isn’t a story about romance, but it IS a story about love. It’s a story about life and death and grief and the love that comes with it. Regardless of shipping, these characters love each other!!! And I love talking about it!!

#long post #dungeon meshi #laios touden #kabru #mithrun #labru #kabumisu #dungeon meshi spoilers #photos

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danlous · 3 months

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"Armand is Alice and Daniel's wife/s and kids aren't real" has become a popular fan theory (even Luke Brandon Field said he liked it!) but i'd be surprised if it was right. I think it's definitely possible that Devil's Minion will be adapted in the show (though probably not exactly like in the books), but i personally think this whole imaginary family thing would be a poor way to handle the storyline for a variety of reasons. I think a twist like that would probably come across convoluted and (as Daniel might say) like something from a telenovela.

We see children's toys in Daniel's house and he's public figure who many people know with an autobiography and everything. Creating decades worth of false memories for Daniel and somehow also maintaining that imaginary life story for decades wouldn't be enough, Armand or whoever did it would also realistically have to have an absurd level of control over the physical world, public records and many other people's minds to sustain an illusion like that. I also frankly think it would be difficult to avoid having some sexist and biphobic undertones to the idea that Daniel's relationships with women were unreal and meaningless and only his relationship with a man matters.

However, the most important reason why i think Daniel's wives and children should be real is that they make him a richer, more nuanced character and are actually central to understanding him and his motives. He has lived a full and complex life that has been influenced and to some extent defined by his encounters with vampires, but those vampires still weren't his whole life. I think it's more interesting to see Daniel's human life and his relationship with Armand and Louis as something connected and overlapping that both affect each other. We actually learn quite a lot about Daniel from what he says about his partners and children.

This scene - as well as how Alice in general is discussed - reminded many people of how Daniel in the books talks about Armand, such as this famous passage:

Parallels between Daniel's relationships with Alice and Armand in the books are obvious but i think they're just that, parallels. Both the sweet little scene where Daniel is talking about Alice's eyebrows and the book scene where he's talking about loving Armand not despite but because he's a monster reflect in different ways who Daniel is as a person; he feels drawn to unconventional and strange and sees beauty where others might not. He ended up in this situation with vampires too because he wanted to interview people who're rejected by the society.

If Daniel already had some sort of relationship with Armand in the past it makes sense that it would be associated with Alice in his mind. There may be an overlap between the timelines of those relationships. A memory of Armand rises when Daniel is reminded of Alice rejecting his marriage proposal, in the books Armand rejected his wish to be turn him into a vampire, which would've been something akin to marriage. I think Alice being real is much more compelling for Armand's character too, with Armand expressing surprising understanding and sympathy toward Daniel's wife rather than just speaking about his own experience through an imaginary woman.

Completely putting aside Devil's Minion and is it a thing in the show or not, i think Daniel's family is particularly important to Louis' and Daniel's relationship. Something that hasn't technically been explicitly said but to me seems obvious is that Louis and Daniel strongly relate to each other as fathers. Many scenes where we see Louis and Daniel show vulnerability in front of each other have something to do with their partners and children. In 1.02 as one of the earliest examples of this Louis replicates the dessert Daniel had with Alice, trying to connect with him and his humanity through it, Daniel shares personal memory and they eat together in companionable silence.

I would argue that Claudia, her memory, and Louis' relationship with her is the heart of the story in these first two seasons. Claudia entering the story in 1.04 marks the shift in the interview and Daniel's approach; he becomes both more combative and more emotionally invested. He has a strong reaction to reading Claudia's diaries, and it's not difficult for any parent to guess that he's also imagining her own daughters in similar circumstances to Claudia.

I think this conversation at the end of the episode (alongside Louis' speech to Daniel in San Francisco and them remembering it in 2.05) is the most important scene between Louis and Daniel. They share the understanding what it feels like to have children and love them so much you don't even have words for it, but still fail them. It's not a coincidence that in the original interview in San Francisco what leads to Louis attacking Daniel is Louis telling the story of Claudia leaving alone and Louis going back to Lestat, and Daniel acting dismissively and clearly not understanding why this is so painful memory to Louis. Daniel was young, stupid and high - and he didn't have children yet. Daniel now wouldn't act like that when hearing this story, and he doesn't in 1.06 when hearing it again. And notably when Louis says that he would now agree to turn Daniel, Daniel says he doesn't want it anymore and specifically mentions his daughters as one of the reasons. Having to watch your children die before you is the most horrifying thing in the world. It's something Louis had to go through and Daniel wishes he never has to, even if vampirism still intrigues him.

Daniel realizes quickly that it all comes down to Louis' feelings of guilt and shame about failing Claudia and his inability to protect her, because he has similar feelings about his own daughters. Louis' story unravels in s1 finale because Daniel recognizes that Louis' more palatable narrative around what happened with Claudia isn't fully true. Daniel carefully read through Claudia's diaries and tried to learn to understand her, and he positions himself as someone who's trying to defend her integrity and reveal the injustice that was done to her. This is again about Daniel's own children as much as it's about Claudia. He knows that he's a bad father, his daughters don't talk to him anymore and it's implied that he neglected them when focusing on other things that interested him more. When Daniel defends Claudia he's on some level trying to rectify his own mistakes and when he calls Louis out he's also voicing his own self-loathing.

Eric Bogosian remarked that the scene in 2.01 where Louis cries and thanks for Daniel for helping him to remember that Claudia could dream is another shift in their dynamic. Daniel looks at Louis with genuine concern, and after that he tones down his usual sarcasm and jabs significantly. Daniel, again, can sympathize with how important this is for Louis. There's a new sincerity and empathy in their interactions. Sometimes the audience forgets that this story is ultimately about Claudia, but Daniel hasn't forgotten it since he first realized it. They're trying to understand together what happened to Louis' child and everything that led to it. I think if Daniel wasn't a father he would've acted differently, and Louis wouldn't have trusted him in the same way either and been able to share his and Claudia's story. I think this shared sorrow, love and guilt they feel as fathers is one of the most crucial parts of their connection.

#iwtv #iwtvposting #danlou #this is mostly about daniel and louis but a bit of armand too #daniel molloy #interview with the vampire

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we-are-maladaptive · 1 year

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Breeding ‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧ Stock

Shouto Todoroki x Cowgirl!Reader

REQUESTS ARE OPEN. Feel free to send me an ask and I’ll write it for you! Remeber to check the rules first.

CONTENTS: smut, breeding (duh), pussy pounding (teehee), hybrids, talks of past abuse, lactation kink, shouto is like in his late 20, early 30s, loss of virginity, master/pet dynamics, oral (f reciev.) Word Count: 2.7k (Proofread! :D)

It seems like people like you are not so lucky as humans. Humans get to do whatever they want, whenever they want, and it’s not fair. Being strapped in a cage all day long.. waiting for someone to take you home n’ milk you dry, maybe breed you.

Breed... you hated that word. You just wanted a life where you could be free, and not have to worry about being someone’s pet. Unfortunately for you, you were one of the best stocks in the farm. The freshest of milk, and the prettiest of faces. This meant that you were being dragged for display almost every time a rich, old buyer came around, flaunting your pretty tits and perky nipples through the thin fabric of your white dress. Praying that the price tag clipped to your ear will be enough to drive them away... sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes the buyers will get a little too close, so when they get a bite on the finger or arm and they scurry away, a few lashes at your behind is better than staying with those creeps.

One day, though, another rich man comes inside... he’s a handsome man, and looks way more decent then the crooks that usually come in the store. You hear one of the clerks scurry in his direction-

..”Oh my! Hello good sir! What are you in for today?”

“I’m here to purchase a cow.”

“Oh! I see. Is there any type you are interested in?”

“...Your best cow.”

A pair of heavy footsteps were walking to your cage, but you didn’t pay any mind to it, too engrossed in your own thoughts. You were always so shaky during a time like this, what if the price, or a bite on the arm, isn’t enough to drive them away? You can’t stay here forever...

“I’ll take her.”

Your head perked up immediately.

“O-oh! Are you sure you want to buy her? You haven’t even touched her ye-”

“I said I’ll take her. Do I need to repeat myself again?”

“Of course not sure! The price is 300,000 yen. She’s of high value.”

You looked the man in the eyes, his gaze softened when he met your eyes, maybe because they were currently filled with fear.

His eyes met the clerk again.

“...Seems fair. Lead me to the paperwork. If there's anything else I need to know, do tell me.”

...

You were terrified.

This man was large, and could easily overpower you. You stood no chance against him, so you stayed quiet and timid in the back of his car.

“Where...where going?” Dumb thing. Could barely manage to understand a few words.

“..We are heading home. You won’t be familiar, but don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.”

Home? You have never had a home before, always stuck in the cage. He said it so gently too, maybe it’s worthless to be so panicky.. he seems sincere.

“Moo..”

...

When he pulled into the driveway, you expected to be dragged into the house, but he held you so softly. So gentle then you felt almost compelled to follow him, and that's what you did.

“Hungry..”

“You’re hungry, hm? What do you usually eat?”

“..Moo?”

He sighed. He wasn’t going to get very far when it came to communication. It seemed as though you could only understand basic words. The man fed you plenty of fresh strawberries, and kiwi. Much to your delight, since all you ate back at the farm was slop filled with hormone inducing protein.

“Who?” Is what you asked him. If you were going to stay here, you at least needed a name. “Shouto, is my name.”

“Sho...shoto..?”

“Yes, you got it.”

Shouto. That was his name. It’s not very hard to pronounce either.

It started to get late, and you had a hobby of following him wherever he went. He could tell by the clank of the cowbell he placed around your neck.

“Sleep?” He assumed you were tired after the trip. You followed him around to this somewhat pile of pillows and a blanket. It was soft, but still sturdy, since it was placed on the floor.

...

The next morning was filled with ache. You felt so heavy. Practically dragging across the floor into his room where he slept. You stared up at him and whined until he started to stir.

“Mmm..what is it?”

“Hurts.” It did hurt, the ache in your hard breasts was hard to ignore at this point. Milk threatening to spill all over and make a mess on the floor if you moved the wrong way.

“Right. I know, come here...”

He pulled down the top of your dress, and your breasts spilled over. He gently grabbed one, and sucked.

It was such a strange feeling.. it was reliving, but your nipples were so sensitive, you couldn't help but whine whenever he sucked so hard. The rich, warm milk flowed into his mouth, and when he began to coax you into his bed, you flinched a little.

“No... no breed.”

“No?” He was rather confused. One the papers and documentaries he read prior, it seemed that almost all cows loved to be bred and filled to the brim. It seemed you were the exception though. It was understandable though, and he wasn’t going to make you do anything you weren’t uncomfortable with, yet.

“Alright. Are you feeling better?”

You nodded. You were still sleepy though, since it was still early in the morning. You snuggled up against him, much to his surprise. Seems like you like his mattress more than the floor.

“Nuh-uh. You need a bath before you can get in my bed, missy.”

“Huff.”

...

It was around 9AM now. This bath was a lot more soothing then you thought it would be. While you were marveling at the bubbles in the bath, Shouto sat at the edge, but he was internally struggling a bit...

Your body looked amazing.

The way droplets of water ran from your hair into the crevice of your breasts. When you lifted yourself up a bit to get out of the water, he could see the fat of your ass, and even a little peek at your cunt too <3.

Shouto wasn't aware of what you were doing right now, probably wandering around the house, but he wasn't worried about that recently. Right now, he wanted to figure out how to make you more.. comfortable. You had pushed away his advance to fuck you earlier, and he was currently fighting the urge to find you bend you over, but that's not very comforting. He understood that you had just gotten here, and it was a very sudden change.

After a while, he decided that the best course of action was patience, and to let you feel a little more at home via gifts or just exploration. He had gotten you a pretty decorated bell that went around your neck, and would let you snuggle with him on his bed as long as you showered or didn't run around in the grass looking for butterflies in his garden. His bed was very soft, and you cried and whined at him whenever it was time to get up.

After a week of being there, you felt a lot more at home. You were able to get down the basic layout of the house now, so you no longer got lost. It was a very large house, and so you would wail for Shouto, so he could come find wherever you were.

It was late into the evening now. You once again lay in Shouto's large garden tub, Shouto was also in the tub behind you, gently scrubbing away the mud on your shoulders, you were extra dirty after planting face-first into the ground. You tripped over yourself after trying to snatch a pretty monarch butterfly. Shouto helped you with wiping the dirt off your face when he found you, but still got himself dirty in the process thanks to you swinging your muddy tail around.

...Once you were finally clean in the tub, that's when Shouto decided to advance. He pressed you back onto his chest, and placed his hand on the lower part of your stomach. You tilted your head to look at him, curious to see what he was doing. You shuddered slightly when he pressed his lips on your neck, right above your collarbone. You tensed when he started to suckle on your neck, so he used his other hand to caress your thigh, and lifted it upward to hand over the edge of the tub, he did the same with the other leg. Your legs were now draped over the tub, giving him access to your more intimate area. He stopped sucking on your neck and again placed his hand on your lower stomach, sliding down very slowly. He whispered in your ear when you started to whimper; "Shhh, I promise I'll take good care of you. Just relax for me.'' You started to melt in his hands, he's taken good care of you ever since you got here, so you should be able to trust him. You were just scared. Scared because of the things you witnessed back at that old barn. Looking at Shouto's different colored eyes makes everything numb, so you nodded at him. He softly smiled at you, and slid his hand on top of your cunt. You stiffened slightly, so he didn’t toy with you just yet, he wanted you to get comfortable first. When Shouto felt you slightly relax into his arms, he smiled at your soft whimper, because now he had placed a calloused finger onto your swollen clit, rubbing in slow circles.

“How’s that feeling, baby?” He was taunting you now, his fingers slowly picking up the pace, stilling you with his other hand when you started grinding your hips into his fingers. “Ah….ah..” You were really trying, you were. Nothing was coming out of your mouth coherent enough for him to understand, but it was enough to make him chuckle at your attempts, a simple puff of air from his nose.

The fingers on your clit were relentless now, the circles had gotten faster, and it was hard not to buck away from his touches. Something in your core was aching to be let out, but you had no idea what it was. Your whimpers turned to soft moans, and soft moans turned into a mixture of inaudible pleas, hiccuped sobs, and loud whines. You didn’t know what you were begging for, but Shouto did. You were on the edge, you slammed your eyes shut in preparation for what was about to happen, but it never came. A disappointed noise came from your lips, and Shouto let out a light laugh at your pouty face. “Don’t worry my dear, I’ll take care of you soon enough.” He pressed a kiss to your ear and whispered something that made you shudder;

“I want you to cum on my cock, love.” With that, he lifted you from the tub, earning him a squeak from you. Using the heat of his body to dry you both at an unfathomable speed, and when he deemed you “dry” enough, he hoisted you over his shoulder and dropped you on the edge of the bed in a playful manner. He gave you no room to complain or whine at him, and instead dragged your rear towards his face as he kneeled down on the floor. Your mouth was opened to protest, but before you could manage to get a word in, your thoughts changed immediately as his mouth started to suckle on your clit. Instead, you let out a loud moan at his ministrations.

He hummed in content at your cries, and the vibrations furthered your pleasure. After a minute, he slid his index finger into your walls, curling upwards in hopes to find that soft spot, and he did. You threw your head backwards, and let out a cry of pleasure. When he deemed you wet enough, he placed another finger in. Curling up into that soft spot in your cunt, and he picked up a nice rhythm too. He curled his fingers particularly hard, which made you slam your hand over your mouth, much to his displeasure. He stood up from his position and pulled you upwards into the pillows of the bed, your legs now bent over his shoulders. He tilted your chin upwards when you tried to look down to see what was about to go inside you, however he wouldn’t let you. If you did see it, you’d probably freak out by how large it was, so it was best to avoid that.

“You’re still so shaky, sweetie. I promise I’ll be very gentle with you, yeah? I don’t want to break you after all.” He smiled down at you when you nodded at him, your teeth biting at your plush lips and eyes slamming shut as you felt the rather large tip of his length prodding at your entrance. “Shh.. hey, you're okay. Look at me. I want to see the look in your eyes as I’m deep inside you, love.” As your eyes slowly opened you decided to grip at the sheets instead, if you bit your lip too hard it would bleed. He buried his face into your neck, as he couldn’t contain his groans and grunts either, opting to release them into your neck, his breath on your collarbone sending shivers down your spine, you could feel him gripping the sheets, and you could feel his cock prodding deeper into your sopping pussy. It hurt, it really did, but it was hard to focus on the pain when he held you so softly.

You had never felt any type of affection in your life, back at that barn. This pain was nothing compared to the lashes you used to receive back there whenever you made any type of mistake. His love was foreign to you, his touches, his affection. It was not what you expected when you first came here. You had thought he was like the others, he’d take, take and take some more until there was nothing left of you. To your surprise however he was giving you something. Giving you food, love, affection, something you’d never thought you would receive. This pain was nothing, nothing at all.

You weren’t really given any room to think when the pain did subside.

Pleasure. Pleasure in its rawest, most carnal form. It was something you never felt up until now. It was like electricity, flowing up and down every vein in your body, it was the only thing you could focus on, if you tried to focus on anything else you might break into pieces. Shouto was saying something, but it was drowned out by your cries. Everything seemed like a blur, the noises of your skin slapping together, your moaning, his grunts, all of it was hazy, other than the overwhelming sensation in between your legs.

Panic crawled its way up your spine when that sensation got a little too intense to handle, that feeling from earlier, something wanting to snap inside. Your breathing got sporadic and irregular, and Shouto noticed and hushed you.

“Hey.. it’s okay. Let go for me, yeah? I got you, you’re safe.”

You tried to plead with him, with the little English you were taught, but he wasn’t having it. He knew what was best for you, afterall.

You tried too hard to hold it in, but when he placed his fingers on your clit again, you knew you couldn’t contain it any longer.

You opened your mouth in a silent scream, head thrown back, your hair a mess, and nails raking at his back. .. and then everything went quiet for a while.

Your eyes felt heavy when you woke up. You weren’t out for long, it was still early into the night, the moon still shone in the same place as when you and Shouto were- oh.“Hi, sleepyhead.” You jumped slightly as the voice beside you, groggy and yet still full of love. Shouto’s hair is a mess, just like yours. Instead of speaking, you instead decided to nuzzle your face into his neck, and he replied with a hum. He kissed your forehead and stroked your back, it couldn’t be any better than this. All those years of isolation and abandonment, you have finally found something good, someone good in your life. You couldn’t bear to see him leave you.

Shouto was about half asleep when his ears perked up to the sound of someone sniveling, it was you. You were crying, in his arms. He pulled your face out, as it was still buried in his neck, and examined your watery eyes and red puffy cheeks with a frown on his face.

“Please… don’t leave me.”

He smiled softly at you, kissing your tears away. “I won’t ever leave you, I promise.”

With that, you both fell asleep. Even though you were a cow, you were still a girl. You had at least half the mind to think of girly things, which included dreaming of what you and Shouto’s kids would look like, and what you would name them.

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banjjakz · 11 months

Text

convection currents ; yuuta x GN!reader

“Am I important to you, Okkotsu-san?” God, he can’t stand it. The way you look at him, the uneven lilt in your fragile, quavering voice; it makes him want to bury himself alive inside of you. “Yuuta,” he says. “Just ‘Yuuta’ is fine.”

word count: 7.6k

warnings: horizontal hanky panky, obsession, possessive tendencies, unhealthy relationships, codependency, semi graphic descriptions of violence, major character death

‪♡‬ read on ao3 ‪♡‬

likes + reblogs appreciated!

Yuuta wants to like you.

And he does – like you, that is. He really, really does.

But there have been some moments that give him pause.

Don’t get him wrong! You’re sweet, kind, doting, attentive, and very clearly an anxious bundle of painful self-awareness. He finds comfort in the kindred connection between your loner spirits. Training is made infinitely easier when he steals a glance at the gentle flash of your sweet smile, the soft flutter of your hair in the breeze, the twinkle of your laugh, floating through the air as a windchime’s ephemeral melody serenades the breeze. Everything about you seems to be perfectly enveloped and embedded within his daily reality at Tokyo Tech; natural, easy, right. That is what it feels like, to be at your side.

The budding affection between the two of you kicks his foolish, stuttering heart into overdrive. How long has it been, since the blood pumping through his veins was motivated by a sensation other than mortal terror?

You make him want to envision a reality wherein he’s embedded into the fabric of the living, breathing world, rather than continue to occupy his perch as a pariah, perennially scapegoated to the periphery.

Each sidelong glance thrown your way is accompanied by the erratic twitch of his clammy hands, as he tries and fails to pay attention during one of Gojo’s rambling, nonsensical lectures. The light in his eyes revives when you call his name. Innards undulating in and out of place, he tracks your body’s every movement, your muscles contorting fast as quicksilver during scrimmages, lethal and alluring all at once.

These are some of the objectively positive aspects of his attraction to you; the things that pull him from his bed in the morning, calling to him like the abyss compels a creature of the night to rise from its coffin.

And then, there are the more…er, complex moments.

“Did you just come back from a mission, Okkotsu-san?”

Like today, for example. Yuuta had just arrived back on campus after a fun afternoon spent with Toge traversing around Tokyo, patronizing various cafes and konbinis. You were lingering at the entrance of the dormitory, back to the front door, effectively coming between him and his bed.

“Ah, no. I was with Inumaki. We were hanging out for a bit.”

“Where?”

“Just in the city…”

“What did you do?”

He stills, uncertain. “Um…that’s…”

“I’m sorry.” Your head ducks in shame, hiding your face from his quizzical glance. “It’s been hard adjusting to student life as a mid-year transfer. I keep up well enough in classes, and on missions, but I don’t think any of the other students like me all that much. Forgive me, Okkotsu-san. To be honest, I’m jealous of how easily you get along with Inumaki-san and Maki-san.”

Of course. How could he assume anything different?

As a non-lineage sorcerer, you were haphazardly discovered by one of the senior sorcerers on a mission gone south and roped into the jujutsu world without prior knowledge of its existence. From a firsthand perspective, he of all people should be able to understand how isolating that must be.

Kicking himself for his judgemental first reaction, Yuuta forces his skeleton to release the tension it harbors. “No, don’t worry. Have you been sleeping well? Did you eat dinner?”

Sheepishly, you shake your head.

This is how he finds himself alone, with you, in a secluded alcove on the outskirts of campus. The afternoon has matured into a thick, syrupy evening, the sky bruised with a smattering of warm hues. You sit on the grassy bank as a pair, shoulder-to-shoulder, your union celebrated by the rhythmic thrum of the cicadas’ song.

“Here, take it.” He offers you the last flavored onigiri leftover from his spoils of konbini adventures.

You protest, waving your hands in front of you. “No, no, no. I’m fine with just a plain one. Please. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.”

“Plain is my favorite,” he lies. “I don’t even like yaki.”

“...Then why did you have one in your bag?”

“Haha! That’s a great question! I don’t know!” Beet red, Yuuta scratches the back of his head.

Out of mercy, and perhaps pity, you graciously accept the yaki onigiri. Munching in companionable quietude ensues for several minutes, as you both watch the sun impale itself on the dark horizon, bleeding out across the sky in dark, inky tones.

Without sitting face-to-face, it’s easier to speak to you, somehow. The insistent pressure on his chest lifts long enough for some words of actual substance to slip forth. “It’s hard, the first year.”

You remain silent.

“My first year was hell, too. Although that’s probably because I was being haunted.”

“By who?”

He blinks, your question knocking him off balance. Not by “what,” but by “who” had he been haunted? You’ve always been observant. This is why you’ve survived for so long.

“Um, it’s a long story… I’ll tell you in full one day. For now, I’ll just say that there was someone very special to me when I was a child… and it was hard for her to let go of me, when push came to shove.”

“Ah. I see.”

Although August has yet to conclude, the air around him is significantly chillier than what is characteristic of Tokyo’s late-summer hazy heat. Yuuta shivers, pulling his knees up to his chin.

“Yeah. But, um, anyways. If you need someone to talk to…to be by your side… I would like to be that person for you.” He utters your name like a prayer, too concentrated on not stuttering to be embarrassed at the earnest tremble in his voice. “I wish I had a confidante when I first got here. It would have saved me a lot of trouble.”

“A confidante? But didn’t you have your friend?”

Your reply jolts him into looking at you. The expression on your face tells him that you truly mean it as a genuine inquiry.

“Well, um. I was being haunted…and Rika – er, she didn’t really listen to me. She actually got a little overprotective, I think.”

“Do you think she was evil?”

“No!” The denial explodes from his mouth before Yuuta can even fully process the nuance of the question posed. “No,” he repeats, at an appropriate volume, this time. “She was clingy, and protective, and possessive, and honestly violent, but she wasn’t evil. I loved her. I think a part of me always will.”

Love? What is he doing talking to you, alone, at night, about love? How embarrassing. He hadn’t meant to say all that!

Quickly, he stuffs his mouth with the remainder of his onigiri. No more talking. Just chewing.

If you are perturbed by his sentimental ramblings, you show no sign of it. If anything, your face remains impassive, serene, undisturbed like the surface of a tranquil pond.

“You loved her for that, then. Was she haunting you if you were in love?”

After he finishes choking down the final, sticky remnants of his dinner, Yuuta frowns, mulling over your words which are heavy by the virtue of their implication, yet hang and sway in the air as an empty noose dangles from the gallows.

“...I don’t know.” Yuuta says, at length. “That’s what I was diagnosed with when I came here. And it was hard for me to function, back when Rika was still here. I didn’t have any friends. And people close to me got hurt a lot.”

“It sounds like she was always trying to protect you… even when you were apart. I only wish one day, I find someone who would have the capacity to care for me like that…”

“You want that?”

“I do.” Not an ounce of hesitation in your firm, forthcoming reply. “I’ve spent my whole life as something worth less than notice or acknowledgement. Always feeling invisible, never having anyone – not even one person – who cared about me. Up until this point, I’ve lived life wanting to die every day.”

For lack of a better reply, Yuuta simply asks: “What changed?”

“...I met you, Okkotsu-san.”

Oh, wow.

It’s kind of funny – where other people describe feeling hot, Yuuta has always been chronically, terminally cold. Your words induce a rapidly onsetting deep-freeze which permeates every layer of his skin, every molecule of his bones, every wretched atom of marrow lying dormant inside of him, all of it, every fiber of being rooted to the spot in an indescribable emotion.

“I–I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I apologize for making you uncomfortable.”

That’s wrong. “No, you didn’t! You didn’t, I swear. Just… um, I’m also a person who is lonely, like you described. So I’m not used to, err, being, ah, important. To people? I guess?”

“Oh… I see.”

Clearly, the higher function of critical thought has abandoned him; this is the only explanation for how he reaches to grab your hands, sending the half-eaten yaki onigiri tumbling down to the dark earth beneath your anxiously shifting feet. He squeezes you, tightly, and is delighted in a morose sort of way to find your digits even colder than his.

“Let’s teach each other. How to be important to someone else.”

“Am I important to you, Okkotsu-san?”

God, he can’t stand it. The way you look at him, the uneven lilt in your fragile, quavering voice; it makes him want to bury himself alive inside of you.

“Yuuta,” he says. “Just ‘Yuuta’ is fine.”

;

Field missions have been a part of his daily life as a sorcerer since the day he arrived at Tokyo Tech. Battle has always been challenging for all the obvious reasons, but never before has Yuuta had to deal with the added hardship of fighting alongside you.

This, of course, is not meant to imply that you aren’t able to hold your own; on the contrary, your physical and cursed prowess has granted you the rank of semi-special grade despite this being your first year enrolled in any kind of formal jujutsu schooling. Your cursed technique is innate to your personality and sensibilities, which helps. But even if that weren’t the case, you would still be one of Tokyo’s top-performing students.

Missions are difficult because, despite all of this being true, Yuuta is powerless to curb the instinct to protect you during fights.

It manifests in small ways, at first: insisting to be paired up with you for assignments, always volunteering to partner up when splitting from the larger group during an investigation– things like this.

His behavior starts to stray into problematic territory the longer he is allowed to get away with it, unchecked.

“After Ijichi casts the veil, we’ll sweep the building. Inumaki and Yuuta, you two take the upper levels. We’ll do the bottom half,” orders Maki, gesturing between you and herself.

Immediately, Yuuta objects. “No. I’ll do the bottom half. You and Inumaki should go up together.”

“What?”

“I have a phobia of heights,” lies Yuuta, shamelessly. “It will impact my performance.”

“I have literally never heard you talk about being afraid of heights before.”

“Shake sushi,” agrees Inumaki.

You remain silent, pupils trembling, bottom lip severed between your teeth in a display of bashfulness reserved only for Yuuta’s blatant favoritism, which he wields frequently, in hopes to catch a even a single glimpse of you just as you appear now.

“I’m self-conscious about it,” he laughs, scratching the back of his head. “Thank you both for understanding.”

“Wait! Okkotsu, we didn’t–”

And with that, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you away with him, sprinting into the abandoned love hotel before Maki or Inumaki can prevent you from absconding.

The two of you are laughing, tickled as usual at the effects of pissing Maki the hell off. Consequences will rain down in due time, no doubt, but for now, it feels best to bask in each other’s presence.

Once through the front door, Yuuta halts to an easy jog, guiding you past the cobweb-covered front desk, around the decrepit scraps of the once-ostentatiously decorated lobby, all the way to the far back corner, where a solid, heavy metal door obfuscates the emergency stairway.

“Oh, it looks jammed… Should we–”

Your stumped musing is cut off by the ricocheting cacophony of Yuuta’s boot violating the door. The metal itself bends and warps, caving in on itself in a hurry to make way for the unstoppable force of the sorcerer’s impassioned blow. He didn’t have to activate any cursed energy.

“Let’s go!” Chirps Yuuta, cheerfully.

In another context, maybe, it would be appropriate for his pulse to spike, for his hands to clam, for his breath to quicken, at the prospect of being alone with you. However, the reality of the current situation is that Yuuta is dragging you down into some dark, unknown depth, where neither of you will be disturbed. As you descend the concrete flights, visibility is increasingly hard to come by, and this, too, excites Yuuta. He is now forced to rely more heavily upon his other senses, which naturally prioritizes the scent of your sweat; the sound of your rabbit-paced heartbeat; the feeling of the paper-thin skin of your inner wrist; the taste of his own desire.

The cursed spirit they’re looking for has been wreaking havoc on the surrounding commercial strip, to the point where several businesses have had to draw their shutters in the wake of the love hotel’s primary foreclosure. Evidently, recurring, unresolved muder-suicides did not bode well for business.

“Um…if we’re supposed to be searching for the curse behind all of the couples’ deaths, shouldn’t we be looking in the bedrooms?”

Your voice echoes, tinny, in the thick, humid air of the emergency stairwell. They haven’t hit the bottom yet.

“Eh, maybe. This doesn’t feel like that kind of case, though.”

“Huh? How do you figure?”

Although moving swiftly, at the speed of light, your footfalls make barely a whisper against the aged concrete steps. Still, it’s enough for Yuuta’s hypersensitive ears to pick up on. Deprived of the sight of you, he drinks in the intimation of your existence, greedily.

“Heat rises,” he says, slowing pace as they approach what can only be the door to the boiler room, which has been left ominously ajar. “Cold sinks.”

“...Um, I’m not sure I follow.”

Stealthily, he slithers inside the slender crack between frame and the door itself. The angle of its opening doesn’t even waver. He pulls you along with him, replying as he moves, “Crimes of passion carry a kind of hot, frenetic energy. Panic, impulse, instinct – all of those things have lots of, hmm, friction? Like an explosion. Really hot at first, dangerously hot, and then it fizzles out into nothing.”

Unfamiliar pieces of enormous machinery tower in the dark. As much as you are able to while crouching so low to the floor, you take care not to trip over any errant pipes.

“So this isn’t a hot curse?”

“No,” Yuuta confirms. “The curse–” murder-suicides in a love hotel, how on-the-nose could it be? “–is premeditated by nature. Obsession solidifies over time. To act on that is a calculated choice.”

He stops short. You would’ve crashed straight into his shoulder blades if he weren’t painfully cognizant of your whereabouts at all times. He preemptively steadies you on your feet before you can even begin to stumble.

“At some point in this building, someone,” says Yuuta, quietly, as he cautiously eyes the opaque blackness before them, “spent a lot of time thinking about their beloved.”

“How can you tell?”

“Cold sinks,” Yuuta repeats.

Violence explodes, seemingly, out of nowhere. The curse attacks all at once, aiming perfectly towards you as though it had been lying in wait, stalking your every move. Yuuta always takes point whenever you pair up together, because he always insists on taking the first hit. It is this presupposition that leaves you wide open, vulnerable for attack from behind.

“Yuuta!!” You shriek, desperately dodging the grotesque appendages reaching out to you. Your body hits the floor just seconds shy of what would have been a gory fatality.

When you lift your head to identify the exact form of the curse, you still in uncomprehending terror.

“...Yuuta?”

How can this be?

Not even seconds prior, Yuuta had been a whole, living, breathing, intact person, guiding you as solidly as your own personal anchor. Why, then, does he appear to you now as a corpse, brain matter spilling down his temples, bloated limbs belying days of decay, flesh pale and tender and loose around the bone.

No, no, no. Had you been too late? Had the curse gotten to him first? Are you next?

Despair fills you, overflowing your sensibilities with the intrusive desire to rid the world of your miserable existence. How could you have let him slip through your fingers? How could you be expected to return to any semblance of a life, with Yuuta gone? You don’t deserve a future without Yuuta – you don’t even want to imagine one.

You’ll do what’s right, and offer your life in penance that you failed to protect his own.

Cursed energy welling within you, threatening to tear you apart at the very seams, you are about to implode with all the conviction of an abandoned lover– but a familiar, desperate cry of your name halts your ministrations.

That was Yuuta’s voice calling out to you.

But there he is, lying before you as nothing more than a desecrated body.

Unless…?

Yuuta calls your name again, sharply, this time in a tone adjacent to something scolding. The fear of disappointing Yuuta outweighs all else. It’s enough to snap you back to reality, to clear your clouded faculties and reveal to you the real Yuuta, who stands on guard just a few paces away, living, breathing, sweating, crouching, preparing for action.

“The curse,” he calls, eyes never leaving the thing in front of you. “It’s the curse. Don’t worry, it’s not real. You’re alive.”

“I’m alive?” You parrot incredulously. “That’s your corpse over there!”

“...Huh? My corpse? But I see yours–” He cuts himself off, face going eerily blank. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Close your eyes. Don’t flinch.”

In your defense, you try your best.

Remaining sightless and motionless is difficult as the rest of your senses are inundated with the disgustingly explicit soundtrack of slaughter. The sound of flesh forcibly sliding apart on the edge of Yuuta’s cursed katana is familiar, at this point, but no less gut-wrenching to bear witness to. When he deals the final blow, the evidence sprays all over the front of you, drenching you from head to toe in what should be the curse’s blood.

And yet, the liquid is frigid. Like you’ve been assaulted by the waves of the cruel, immortal sea.

“You can look now.”

Hesitantly, your eyes flutter open. You’re met with the sight of Yuuta, also covered head to toe in the viscous liquid produced by the corpse’s demise. Now that the exorcism has been completed, the preternatural heaviness is lifted from the building. But still, you struggle to breathe.

“Why didn’t you let me fight?” Something horrible announces itself, crowing from an ugly, dark corner of your mind best kept away from public view. “Was I going to slow you down?”

He sheathes in katana without sparing the gory weapon another glance. The space between your bodies is quickly extinguished, as Yuuta crosses the space in a matter of heartbeats. Blood roars in your ears, drowning out all which does not consist of Yuuta’s fixed gaze, Yuuta’s shaky breath, Yuuta’s pallid, sweaty skin, Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta.

“No.”

A large, wet palm meets your cheek. The soft squelch should be repulsive. Your stomach flips for entirely unrelated reasons.

“Why do you think all those murder-suicides happened?”

The question catches you off guard, but you answer, nonetheless. “The curse.”

“What do you think the curse made people see, for them to do something like that?”

You want to ask what the hell this line of questioning has to do with anything, with the mounting intensity in his stare, with the firm hand on your face, calloused thumb rubbing miniscule half-crescents into the crux of your jaw where the bone and flesh is pliant and breakable, could crack open like the shell of a creature already cooked alive, prepared to be split open for gluttonous consumption–

And then, rudely, the memory of mere moments prior hits you:

You’ll do what’s right, and offer your life in penance that you failed to protect his own.

“Oh,” you whimper, pathetically. “They see– the curse makes them see, um, someone special to them.”

“Not just ‘special,’” Yuuta corrects. From this close you can see the faint trail of blue-green veins spiderwebbing their way from his eyebags, metastasizing every which-way, just underneath his skin. “What is a curse?”

“The coalescence of negative energy secreted by human non-sorcerers.” You rattle off the elementary answer without second thought.

“What kind of curse was this?”

The moisture evaporates from your mouth. “A cold one.”

“Why?”

“‘Obsession solidifies over time. To act on that is a calculated choice,’” you mimic back.

Although, your tone doesn’t quite replicate the self-assured way by which Yuuta had originally imparted the information. No, your voice shakes apart, just as disjointed as the rest of your body feels at this moment.

“What did you see when you looked at the curse?”

He already knows. He wants you to say it. You want to plead for mercy, if only to savor the eroticism of begging for something you know will not be spared for you.

“I saw you, Yuuta.”

The curse’s blood is bitter and cold, like soured juice, when it is thrust upon your tongue. Yuuta is uncaring of the gore coating the both of you, the time-sensitive nature of this mission assignment, the way your knees sway and buckle as the adrenaline begins to leak from your body, replaced by a new, even more exhilarating sensation.

Opaque darkness still shrouds the boiler room; and yet, it isn’t enough to prevent your souls from recognizing one another. Hands wrestle with buttons, fingers grapple with zippers, teeth gnash into flesh, and the two of you take each other apart not with the reckless abandon of lovers under the duress of a transient liaison; no, you are methodological, thorough, all-consumed by the well-marinated desire that has been fertilizing from the moment you first came into contact with one another.

Yuuta throws you down to the floor and moves his body at a preternatural speed so that he beats you there, his hand cradling the back of your skull before it can strike the concrete.

“I saw you too,” he huffs into your mouth.

“You were d-dead…” The way you struggle to say the word is cute. You’re so fucking cute. God, he’s no better than a fucking curse.

It’s impossible to curb the temptation to sink his teeth into your neck, eagerly feeding off of the intoxicating effects of your pained, thrilled squeal. “You weren’t,” he murmurs into the abused flesh, pressing a kiss where he’d just gnawed. “You looked close, but you weren’t dead.”

“...Huh…?”

Can you even think right now? Do you understand what he’s saying to you? How could you possibly grasp the implications of what is transpiring, right now, when you’re laid out on the floor, snow-angeling in the blood and guts and gore of a murdered curse, delirious off of a heady combination of lust and adrenaline and fear?

“You were just barely alive. On the edge.” He moans, rocking the hard line of his body into your own. “Do you know what you said to me?”

“Tell me.”

“You asked me to finish the job.”

Back arching off of the grimy, gritty ground, every fiber of your being reaches out for the fingers that tear at the cloth of your uniform as though it is nothing more than some cheap costuming. “You know what? I knew it wasn’t the real you, when it said that. ‘S not like you.”

He’s monologuing to himself, it seems. You are far beyond the hope of verbally communicating in anything other than your strained, hoarse whines.

“You’d never ask me to do that. You’d stay with me until the very end, wouldn’t you?”

Desperately, hopelessly, you nod, your fingernails carving your intentions into the meat of his shoulders. When had his shirt come off? Did you do that?

Are you the one tearing away the last bits of offending clothing, or is that him? Do you growl in stoked desire as he breaches your entrance, or does that inhuman noise come from the both of you?

When Yuuta is buried inside of you, he feels like he’s finally been laid to rest. There is the warm, comforting embrace often described as death – but instead of an eternal bliss found at the conclusion of his life, Yuuta is able to access this euphoria by burying himself inside of you. You are his headstone, his tomb, his coffin: all of you exists to house the death of all of him, and without him inside of you, you would live on in aimless unfulfillment, anxiously awaiting the day a beautiful boy will come to die under your care and linger with you in eternity.

You are–warm, hot, burning up, self-immolating beneath his fingers. Every thrust forward threatens to scald his hips on your molten flesh.

“Fu-fu-fu-fu-fu–” you stutter, body shuddering to life, rising from the ground, seizing and contorting in strange shapes as you struggle and fail to cope with the insurgence of pleasure coursing through you. “Yuu–ta–”

“Promise me.”

“Wha–”

“Promise me,” he hisses, hands coming to your throat. “Promise you’ll stay. You’re too important to me, I c-can’t lose you too, hnnnnn–”

Promise you, I’ll never leave you, is what you are able to only mouth, breath and voice held captive in his unrelenting grasp. Because you cannot voice it entirely, you pour all the contents of your heart and soul into the sentiment. Fingers rising weakly to clasp onto his, you tighten his grip on your windpipe and take comfort in the drowsy haziness that cradles your consciousness.

When he comes, he holds you to him like he’s afraid you’re going to crawl off and die somewhere else if he doesn’t keep you right where you are, crushed against, his shivering frame, so tightly bound to him that he can hear your diaphragm contract and expand, over and over and over again, each breath cut short by a wheeze or a sob.

Through it all, he cradles you. Naked, bruised, and forever scarred from the sight of not-Yuuta’s rotting corpse, you cling to him and release your sorrows into the dark, empty abyss of the boiler room.

Back and forth, he rocks your body, soothing your nervous system into an illusion of safety. There is no such thing as “safety,” not for jujutsu sorcerers – but together, with limbs intertwined as one, this is the closest you can come to fooling yourselves into hoping, one day, for a safe place. A safe person, even.

“Shhh,” he simpers, thumb swiping your cheek, which is damp from an unholy mixture of cursed blood, sweat, spit, and tears. “We’re together. It’s all okay.”

“T-together…”

“Yeah. Just you and me.”

;

“You don’t think that’s an issue?”

“I’m not saying there isn’t an issue. But we should tread lightly, here. We don’t know what could happen if we interfere.”

“If we don’t interfere, the newbie might die.”

“It won’t get to that point. I won’t let it happen. Oi, don’t blow smoke in my face. That’s unladylike.”

“Don’t lecture me on what’s ‘ladylike,’ cocksucker.”

“Wow! That burns!”

“Come here, I’ll show you what else burns.”

Lingering outside the door to the infirmary, you shift your weight from foot to foot, unsure of the appropriate course of action to take. Clearly, Gojo and Ieiri are in the middle of a conversation that is not meant to be heard by prying ears – not that you can make heads or tails of what they’re talking about, anyways.

All you wanted to do was come see Ieri for your weekly check-up, as was customary following the love hotel mission. The adrenaline must have numbed your pain receptors in the moment, because as soon as you’d arrived back on campus, your entire body felt like you’d been through a grinder.

You were kinda confused, at first, because you didn’t even engage the curse in combat. In due time, of course, you remembered what–or who–had actually bruised your ribs, broken your skin, sprained your joints, left you carrying the contours of his wanting.

Why were they talking about you dying, anyways? Yuuta saved your life. Nothing was going to happen to you as long as he was by your side.

“Hey.”

Jumping out of your skin has started to feel good, kind of. You look forward to Yuuta’s unceremonious greetings as he creeps up on you in silence, futilely waiting for you to detect his concealed presence.

“H-hi,” you demure. Why are you shy? He’s been so far inside of you he practically fused into your skeleton. Blushing because he caught you unawares is ridiculous.

“Aren’t you going to go in?”

Wondering how he knows what you’re here for is pointless. Equally as useless is trying to deduce how he was able to figure out your recurring appointment time. He’s Yuuta – it’s natural for him to acquire knowledge about you, as easily as one picks low-hanging fruit from a tree.

“Umm, I think they’re talking about something.”

He frowns. “About what?”

You hesitate. Should you tell him what you heard? “Ah, I don’t know...”

“Are you sure?”

You remain silent, unsure of how to proceed. Part of you wants to bare your innards at all times, whenever Yuuta is around. It feels natural, like a rabbit’s cowering. On the other hand…

Somehow, the thought of telling Yuuta the truth–yeah, Gojo-sensei and Ieiri-sensei think there’s a chance I might die soon–would not end well for anyone involved. If there was something you truly needed to know, you’re sure your senseis would tell you.

Right?

“Please trust me,” you whisper, only feeling a little guilty. You’re doing it to protect him. If something dangerous is going to happen to you, Yuuta shouldn’t be involved at all. He must live. You must make sure of it.

Reluctantly, he acquiesces, although he insists on accompanying you to your check-up that week. Strangely, neither Gojo nor Ieiri seem surprised that he is here with you, and make no effort to question why. Yuuta is allowed to linger at your sides as Ieiri takes your vitals, reviews the status of your various injuries, and even holds your hand when she scans your cursed energy levels. Thankfully, you are on track to make a perfect recovery.

In fact, not only are you replenishing the strength and ability that had been impaired during the love hotel mission–you are regenerating cursed energy at rates which exceed your natural capacities.

When Ieiri relays this to you, Gojo, who has been lingering in the infirmary for some unknown reason (you suspect it’s simply to annoy Ieiri with his very presence) speaks up: “Do you know what that means, kid?”

“Um…” You start, nervous. Everyone’s eyes are on you. It feels like you’re under a microscope. “I’m moving up a rank?”

Gojo bursts into a fit of giggles, doubling over at the waist. “Wow, what an opportunist! Haha, maybe in the future, if your cursed energy continues to compound exponentially. I’m asking you about the cause. Any idea why you’re suddenly overflowing with power?”

“No.” Your answer is as truthful as it is anxious.

“Typically, a dramatic increase in output like this only occurs after a Binding Vow. Make any life-or-death promises, recently?”

It’s supposed to be a joke, the way Gojo says it. You can tell because his crow’s feet dip down just far enough away from underneath his blindfold that you can tell whenever he smiles with his eyes. And he is smiling, after he cracks the joke. You’re also able to intuit when he stops smiling, as the depressions on his face smooth out into a careful blankness. You are thirty seconds too late to the punchline. Instead of laughing along, you remain damningly silent, and Yuuta shifts uncomfortably at your side.

“Okay,” says Gojo, clapping his hands. “Alright.”

Although you’re fully clothed in your school uniform, it makes you feel chillingly exposed when what feels like all Six of his Eyes bore into the collection of dark marks ringing your neck in a brutal, makeshift collar. Those were not, in fact, the work of a curse.

Yuuta fidgets with the flimsy paper lining the examination bed. You kick your feet like a child in time out.

“You owe me seven thousand yen,” Shoko deadpans.

“Hey! Didn’t we say forty-five?”

“Don’t kid around.”

Am I in trouble? The terrified plea swells to the front of your mouth, begging to escape. You force the words to sit, stay, and curdle on your tongue.

“Can we go now?” Asks Yuuta, uncharacteristically direct.

Given the odd gravity in the room, you don’t expect Gojo’s easy wave of his hand, dismissing the two of you with a flippant hum. Not having to be told twice, you hightail it out of the infirmary, grateful to be released from the constant invasion of privacy and security that is a prolonged existence within the reach of Gojo’s Six Eyes.

Finally alone once more, the training grounds are a welcome reprieve for you and Yuuta, who crash into the grass clearing hand-in-hand, heartbeats synced.

“Did we make a Binding Vow? When we…you know…”

Yuuta’s voice trails off, lamely.

“What if we did? Would you regret it?”

“Huh? No, of course not! It’s just…well–”

“Well, what?”

“That’s kind of permanent,” Yuuta whispers, dark pools of obsidian sorrow holding your gaze in its cruel, captivating clutches. “And we don’t know what will happen if it breaks.”

For one second, the rawness of it hits you. Fear washes down your back, prickling your flesh, raising goosebumps, locking your spine rigidly into place. The two of you had certainly made a life-or-death promise, infused with cursed energy and blood and…other…bodily fluids. To inadvertently perform a Binding Vow meant that the sheer intensity behind both of your wills was purely, wholly devoted to the promise.

Which is why you take a step closer to him, voice steady. “I didn’t make that promise with the intention to break it. Ever.”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “Don’t…you can’t be sure of that.”

“I am.”

“You won’t be able to guarantee it.”

“I will.”

Familiarly calloused hands grab your shoulders, jostling you with charged intention. “You don’t get it! My favorite person in the whole world already left me once. If that happens again, I can’t… I don’t know…”

“Yuuta.” You don’t have to lay a finger on him for his entire body to stand at attention, drawing tall and taught, when you call his name. “I will never leave you, even if I die.”

The ensuing kiss tastes like metal.

Despite the passionate fervor with which he devours you, his mouth his cold, and his digits even more so as they dig into your cheeks, your throat, your waist, your chest, groping and pulling and kneading your flesh to loosen the rigor mortis that has arrested your willingness.

“D-don’t, ah, make any m-more marks…”

Your protest is, at best, unconvincing, the person least of all convinced being yourself, as Yuuta’s teeth and tongue on the tender flesh of your neck make you feel like you’re about to leave your body. “Hnng–Gojos-sensei already knows, I think.”

“Good.” He’s crazed, nipping and slurping at your sensitive soft bits like a man starved. “Let him know. Everyone should know. I shouldn’t even–” he kisses “–have–” he bites “–to say it–” he licks you in between speaking, as though it goes against the grain of his being to part ways with you for more than just a few jagged inhalations.

The ground hits you hard, reprimanding you for your clumsiness with a firm impact on your backside. Yuuta pursues with haste, hands slamming down on either side of your head, ripping the grass in retribution.

“Yuuta,” you hiss, hands flying to his dark mop of hair, trying to reel him back – in vain, of course. “We are outside. In the middle of the day. Anyone could walk by!”

“Don’t care.”

His eyes are glazed, half-lidded, pupils blown wide and deeply dark as a gunshot wound, uncaring of your anxiety as he attempts to dive back into you.

“Wait! What if someone sees me?” Now, he rears back. “I don’t want anyone else to see, Yuuta… only you get to see me like this.”

Even the ants traipsing across the clearing stop dead in their tracks, rendered motionless, silent, at the abrupt onslaught of highly charged cursed energy that washes through every living and non-living thing within a five-mile radius.

“Okay.”

Wordlessly, your world upends as you are thrown over a wide shoulder clad in spotless, wrinkled white. You’ve always thought it was funny – how Yuuta’s uniform never managed to permanently stain itself with any of the gore he frequently encountered, and yet, there was always a noticeable depression in the seams, ever-lurking, complicating the otherwise flawless expanse, evoking a sense of pity.

Even when the shirt flies off, abandoned to crumple sadly in the corner of his bedroom, you can’t get its image out of your head. That spotless white. Those gleaming gold buttons dripping in iridescent rivulets down the front of the garment. Only within the intricate designs etched into their surface is one able to glean the barest hint of blood, staining the metal a pale crimson. If you weren’t looking for it, you wouldn’t notice it.

But you have always sought out his ugly, twisted parts. Even when he tries to hide. Even when he might duck from them himself.

That’s okay.

That’s why he has you.

When he bites you so hard that the wound draws blood; when his palms squeeze around your windpipe so deftly that you lose vision; when pins down your bruised hips, ignoring their wriggling avoidance; when his unquiet nature makes itself known, eclipsing the carefully bashful performance he puts on for his peers so that he might be liked, or loved, even–that is when you feel most connected to him. That is when your affections burn brightest.

And during the comedown, as he holds you close and rocks your brutalized body back and forth and back again, you are well aware that it is he himself who he seeks to soothe.

He doesn’t know, you realize, broken out of your post-coital mental haze with a pointed moment of clarity.

Yuuta has no clue what lurks inside the haunted catacombs of his soul.

What does it say about you, then, that his naivete only serves to further incense your want, smoldering like an inferno brewing at the base of a pyre, threatening to engulf your sorry corpse in entirety?

;

As third year trudges on, instruction takes less time in the classroom, or on campus. More frequently, you find yourself out on missions from sun-up to sundown, running around Tokyo-to and even surrounding prefectures. The grades of the curses you go up against only increase with time, and so, to, does your proximity to mortal danger.

Through it all, Yuuta is present. Indignantly so. Despite your rank as a semi-special grade sorcerer, you have yet to embark solo on an assignment. The pair of you are one combative unit, at this point so intertwined in sentiment and instinct that rarely is it necessary to reach for verbal exchange while engaged in battle. It is as though the reserve of cursed energy you draw from is a pool shared between you, a combination of your innate abilities plus an additional overflow, supplied by the Binding Vow you had consummated all those months ago.

So close are you, now, that Yuuta grows comfortable – confident, even – with your hold on his proverbial leash. These days, he is less neurotic when you inquire as to his whereabouts. Your prying questions provoke within him nothing other than a deep-seated sense of reassurance. He no longer doubts where he stands with you, as he once did when you were still a fresh-faced, mid-year transfer adjusting to life at Tokyo Tech.

In retrospect, he recognizes that he should never have let his guard down.

It’s his fault, really. Entirely his fault. The extra strength provided by the powerful effects of the Binding Vow deluded him into a false sense of security.

He shouldn’t have been so careless with your life. He shouldn’t have strayed so far from your side. He shouldn’t have let you out of his sight. He shouldn’t have left you alone, even if it was only for a split second–not even.

Once again, he has failed to save the most important person in his life. Somehow, losing you is worse than losing Rika. He is no longer a child. He possessed both the skill and ability to save you.

And yet, he had been absent in your time of need.

The one time you’d been off on a mission without him. The one and only time. Principle Yaga’s sorry excuse was that the higher-ups found it strange that you, as a semi-special grade, had never completed a solo assignment. Apparently, your rank was being threatened if you refused any longer to display independent capability.

Well. Now there’s no rank for you to claim, anymore.

After news of your death reaches him, he roams campus like an aimless specter, as though he is the one who has been robbed of life.

In a way, he has. Half of his being has perished. He limps, lopsided, dragging the phantom weight of your body with him wherever he goes.

It takes a while to get used to the absence of your physical, living, breathing manifestation. As a fellow sorcerer, you have been wholly eradicated from the fabric of his reality.

But as a spirit…?

Death is not enough to break a Binding Vow – this, Yuuta knows better than anyone. He retains his augmented cursed abilities, along with your presence. The two of you join once more in battle, as he summons you to protect and guard him in life as he failed to do for you. Your selfless nature has never been more clearly evident. Not a single call goes unanswered, not a single need of his unmet.

Is this a haunting?

No, he doesn’t think so.

When the two of you had still been skittish and shy around one another, nothing more than a pair of innocently covetous children, you’d dared him to reflect on his relationship with Rika. What had been translated to him as a haunting, you reimagined as something more corporeal, something genuine, something worthy of gratitude, and love.

This is how he chooses to think of you – the both of you, together, still joined in perfect union. No matter the fact that you will watch him age, change, develop, and eventually die, one day, should he be so lucky. You do not haunt his waking hours. You do not terrorize his dreams.

You love him in a way that transcends the bounds of space and time.

He has not been cursed. Rather, he has been blessed with your unconditional love.

To earn true forgiveness, he must show you his, as well. You must occupy his every waking thought. You will invade his every intention. You are at the forefront of his mind when he rises with the dawn, and the memory of your breath against the shell of his ear whispers to him good night. You dress him. You urge him to sustenance. You machinate his combat. You heal his wounds. You wipe his tears when he sobs, alone, terribly alone, sobbing into his knees after each time the life of a friend meets a senseless, violent conclusion.

You are still there when he wraps a rough, harried palm around his throbbing arousal, thrusting up into an elusive, now long-gone pleasure. You guide his hands’ journey across the hazardous dips and valleys of his rib cage, the grotesque concave of his stomach, the sharp blades of his hip bones. His skeleton threatens to crawl outside of his flesh. It yearns for something beyond this senseless cycle of bloodshed, grief, and rage.

Never does he feel closer to salvation than when he is on the precipice of ecstasy, dehydrated, underfed, delirious, heart beating so fast that it limits his vision, his lung capacity. When he occupies this liminal space, it is not the brink of orgasm which he straddles. As he approaches climax, he yearns not for an explosion of wet heat, but for the euphoric embrace of a final ending: your arms around him once more, real, tangible, warm.

Until then, he will trudge onwards. Miserably alive. Cold inside and out. Numb to physical pain, constantly inundated with the wounds inflicted on his spirit, his sentiments, his soul.

Solace finds him in the fact that you committed to remain by his side, forever. How could he wallow in total despair when this remains true?

You chose this, after all.

You chose him.

You did.

Didn’t you?

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Life began to feel so boring. The days blended into one another and suddenly we’re in march. Staying up late catching up on your favorite show because there is nothing better to do right now. One piece was such a breathe of fresh air, full of adventure and characters that seem amazing to be around and explore the world with. You wished to be in the world where u can freely be who you wanted, the world where you weren’t shackled by the burdens of reality.

You’ve been around all the corners of the internet so you know of shifting and astral projection which is exactly what seems to be going on right now. Rewatching episodes leading up to the time skip around 4 in the morning till your eyes flutter shut. Suddenly the wafting scent of the ocean filled your nose. “ Is she a stowaway?” “ How have we just found her we haven’t been on land for over a week now”. You opened your eyes to the snout of a reindeer and other very familiar faces.

You sat up so fast knocking into the poor doctor. Panic set through you because the first assumption anyone would have is that they’re in a dream or— congrats you’ve finally lost your damn mind. “ Who are you people”.

“ We’ve got the same question for you”

“ well I asked first”

The blunt part of a sword was thrust into your face by a very angry green swordsman. Fear etched across your face you give him a once over. Zoro. To your left was Robin and chopper holding his snout on her lap. There should be absolutely no reason that you’re in this world with these wacky 15th century pirates from your goofy anime show. Your voice shakes as you try to convince the green haired man to stop threatening your life.

“ Listen this is surely a misunderstanding, I really don’t understand how I have gotten here and I’m not really too sure who you people are.”

Maybe if they think that I don’t know who they are I can figure out a way to get out of this mess without ruining the story.

“ What is your last memory before you woke up on our ship” a voice from behind spoke. Turning to the left at the top of the stairs was Nami with Sanji following behind her.

“ I was laying in my bed falling asleep and then I woke up here”

After that you were bombarded with questions, what’s your name, your age, if an 8ft skeleton can see your underwear and it nearly drained the life out of you. The sun was now beginning to set after such a long day of being interrogated by the crew you used to watch through a screen. The captain was sitting on the head of the Sunny watching the day fade away when he stretched his arm to you pulling you to sit with him.

It was quiet for a while and nerves began to set in. Does he see through me? I know a lot of people don’t give luffy the credit but he’s way more intelligent than you’d think. “ What is it like where you’re from y/n” he spoke as he turned to face you.

“ Very different.”

“ Tell me about it please”

The sun completely faded into night and the stars littered the sky while you told luffy about “ where you’re from” and he was absolutely entranced by the world he’s never been. You ended up telling Luffy the truth about your origins, somewhat about himself, there was just something so compelling and trusting about him you didn’t think nothing of it. You slept in the girls room next to Nami that night, thinking about the next step and getting home.

Was this really a dream or did your desire to escape mundane life make you shift into this world of unknown.

The next day you went to eat breakfast with the crew and luffy starts spouting all the things you told him the night before. With seemingly no thought behind his words as he swallowed everything on his plate, though his crew members all stopped to stare at you in confusion.

“ I thought you said you weren’t from here?”

“ You said you didn’t know how you got here”

“ Well I wasn’t exactly lying, I really don’t know how or why I’ve been transported into your world. I just didn’t want to scare you or make you think I’m crazy with all of this.”

Over the next few days you were beginning to settle with the crew, you spent hours getting to know everyone and having the most fun you’ve had in years. Nami and Robin were curious about your world and you were more than elated to tell them all the things you enjoyed. The boys liked when you played their silly games, Sanji was obsessed with everything about you and loved having you perched on the counter when he was cooking so you can serve as his taste tester.

Zoro only just began to acknowledge you after finding out you also had a love for drinking, it became really easy to bond with the man. You knew you had to go back but what’s the harm in spending time with such a loving group of people, it’s not everyday someone is given your experience don’t waste it being worried.

You were able to convince Nami to give you a blank sheet of paper where you wrote all the things you knew about shifting and astral projection. You’ve been with the crew over a week now spending every night trying to shift back to your world. Sometimes you feel close others are strangely disturbed by Robin and Nami whether they are sparking up a conversation with you or knocking things over which disturbs your concentration.

The next few days you began to see birds meaning you were finally reaching land, the sabody archipelago. You know the way this arch ends and you need to go home now before you spend two years on an unknown island doing who knows what because YOU aren’t a straw hat and you have no place where you can learn to polish your skills.

The bubbly island became visible and you’d be reaching it by midday, while you were sitting on the head of the Sunny with Luffy again he asked you his million dollar question.

“ Y/n join my crew” he smiled. Your cheeks burned and you had to turn away from the boy whose smile brightened all your days.

“ Luffy I would love to but—”

“ Great- EVERYONE Y/N” you clasped your hand over his mouth.

“ Luffy l can’t join your crew. I have to go home I don’t even belong in this world”

“ Why do you want to leave” sadness dripped from his voice.

“ Yeah, we’ve been having so much fun” the small doctor announced from the deck.

“ It has been very fun I’ll admit but I don’t belong here with you guys. I’ve got a whole life in my world— and a family and just so much to do.” You reasoned.

The rest of the day the crew seemed angry and distant, you simply couldn’t understand why. When they all found out where you really came from they said they would help you get home. During dinner that night you were seated between luffy and Zoro who barley uttered a word while hushed conversations were surrounding the rest of the table. It was insufferable and reminded you of elementary school when someone didn’t want to be your friend anymore and told everyone about it.

“ Luffy are you upset with me? I haven’t done anything wrong”

“ Why do you want to leave? You just joined the crew and were on a new island”

“ I never said I was joining your crew luffy”

“ you know the captain doesn’t take no for an answer y/n” Zoro chuckled.

With a huff you stood up everyone’s eyes landing on you. “ Are you all acting this way because you don’t want me to leave?”

“ Why would we want a crew member to leave us?” Nami’s voice wobbled as tears formed in her eyes. Are they serious? When did u ever agree or tell these people that you were a part of their crew.

“ Listen closely all of you. You have to understand I am not from here, I never joined the straw hats, and I don’t even have any powers I can’t protect myself.”

“ That’s why you have me Y/n-chwaaan”

“ ignore that idiot cook but you have Luffy and I, we wouldn’t let anything happen to you”

“ Who is an idiot you damn moss ball !”

A fight between the cook and the swordsman broke out and you would usually find everything hilarious but…

These people have convinced themselves you are one of them and they don’t want you to leave. You decided tonight will be the night where you will go home with or without their help especially because you already know what’s in store the next day. Laying next to Nami that night waiting for her breathing to even out so you can concentrate with no interruptions you hear soft sobbing.

“ Are you alright Nami..”

“ Y/n I know you want to go back but can you stay a little longer we all care about you and enjoy having you around. We really feel like you’re one of our crew mates”

“ Sure, I’m not missing anything important right now” lying is better than letting this girl cry all night. When her breathing finally evened out you were able to try again.

Eyes fluttering open you were finally in your own bedroom. It was just as you left it, your iPad paused on the intro to one piece and the sun was showing through your curtains.

I really did it.

Life began as usual but you had a newfound appreciation for all the little things that made life worth it. Friends and family found your new outlook pleasant and you finally felt like you turned on a new leaf. While you were getting ready for bed applying all of your creams and oils the Tv in the living room turned on.

Wealth, Fame, Power.

A chill ran through your spine, you haven’t watched the show in over a month in fear of being brought back into that world by some odd chance. Getting up to turn off the tv something in the hallway made a noise. The fear of someone or something being in your house had you clenching on the door knob for dear life.

Just open the door nothing is there you’re only scaring yourself.

Opening the door and walking down the dark hallway into the softly illuminated living room the episode of the strawhats finally meeting up after two years was playing.

“ My favorite arch I should rewatch soon”

“ Why don’t you live it instead?” A voice from behind hissed.

You felt your heart thumping in your ears as you slowly turned to be met with a very angry Captain.

——

Not proofread ! 🫶🏽

I was inspired by a similar stories I’ve seen down the tl hope you enjoyed. Pt 2 coming soon maybe

#straw hat pirates #one piece #one piece x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy x reader #platonic yandere #yandere #Yandere strawhats #yandere one piece #ronoroa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #op nami #nico robin #ussop one piece #black reader #x black fem reader #x black reader

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seoltzuki · 6 months

Text

Show & Learn

a scrapped work of mine

momo x fem reader

fluff, smut

"Show me how you like it."

Momo has always been a keen observer. Whether she's at dance practice, watching the choreographer closely before trying the moves herself, or at Nayeon's place, taking notes on how she arranges things, like moving the couch to the left side of the room because it just feels right. And when she's with you, she's curious about your preferences, eager to know what you like and how you like it. This often turns into mini tutorials, whether it's about making coffee, cooking meals, baking desserts, or picking out outfits.

Momo prefers to sit back and observe.

She is a quick learner, after all.

"What?" you mumble mid-yawn, tucking yourself further under the covers, your voice muffled by the soft fabric.

"Guide me through it," Momo says, her voice soft as she unties her hair, reaching over you to adjust the bedside lamp, casting a gentle glow that illuminates the room.

You frown and reach for her, pulling at her oversized pajama shirt. She smiles and opens the covers, settling herself over you. Her hands slip under your shirt, her fingers dancing over the skin of your tummy. In return, you do the same to her, dragging your fingers to caress her back.

"Why? You know what I like, my love," you murmur in response.

She yawns and gently pecks the skin under your ear, then moves to your lobe with another kiss.

"I never actually took the time to ask you. I just went in assuming what you'd prefer," Momo whines, her voice low and nasally. She squirms in your hold and lets out a huff of frustration.

"But I'm happy with what we do, Momo," you press, tangling your fingers in her hair, trying to soothe her.

Momo whines louder and rises to her knees, standing between your legs. You can't help but giggle at how cute she looks, her cheeks puffed with exasperation as she sighs and playfully pokes your thighs.

"Please? Do it for me?" Momo pleads, her voice soft and earnest, her eyes reflecting her longing as she looks down at you.

You purse your lips, contemplating her request. Glancing at the clock, you realize it's already late at night, and knowing Momo has to be up early tomorrow, you both had a long day. You remember how she was nearly falling asleep while eating the dinner you made. Slapping her poking fingers away gently, she grabs your hands, her gaze pleading.

You look at her face and god...

There's a mix of affection and a deep desire to please in Momo's eyes, and it catches you off guard. She almost looks innocent, considering her request. It tugs at your heartstrings, compelling you to fulfill her wishes, knowing that her happiness means everything to you.

"Okay," you exhale softly, settling yourself more comfortably on the bed.

You can't help but feel yourself warming up to what she wants. There's something different about it when there's someone eagerly watching your every move, someone who genuinely cares about your needs and wants. It adds a new layer of intimacy to the moment, making you feel vulnerable yet strangely comforted by her presence.

Momo shifts as well, straightening her back and shuffling closer until her knees touch your inner thighs. You notice a red tint creeping up her neck, but you can't quite discern if she's feeling shy, turned on, or perhaps a mix of both. Her proximity sends a shiver down your spine, adding to the sense of vulnerability and anticipation in the air.

She breaks the heaviness with a gentle suggestion, "Do you maybe want help? How about you talk me through it? Before, you know... doing it." Her words carry a hint of playfulness, easing the tension between you as she offers her support in a way that feels comfortable for both of you.

You nod, feeling a mix of nervousness and relief at her understanding. Taking a deep breath, you admit, "I've never done that before." There's a vulnerability in your admission, but also a sense of trust in sharing such a personal detail with her.

Momo gently reassures you with a soft smile and a squeeze to your thigh. "It's just me, baby," she whispers, her words filled with tenderness and care. You feel comforted and reassured by her gesture, any lingering doubts or fears melting away in the warmth of her affection.

Taking another deep breath and closing your eyes, you begin to speak, your hands tracing down to your hips, then your thighs, gently caressing the flesh as you gather your thoughts. "Usually," you start, your voice soft but steady, "what gets me going is you." Your words hang in the air, carrying the weight of your honesty as you continue to share your desires with Momo.

"I think about the way you look at me," you continue, your voice growing more confident as you express your feelings, "how sweetly you talk to me, how safe you make me feel when you hold me..." You sigh as you lift the hem of your shirt over your belly button.

"Your lips... that little smirk you always give me before doing something mischievous or obscene... the kisses after a long day, the nips when I make you feel good," you confess, each word laden with desire and affection.

You lift your shirt higher over your breasts, and a soft whine makes you open your eyes. You find Momo completely flushed, her face red, and she seems out of breath, her reaction a clear indication of the effect your words and actions are having on her.

"Do you need my lips?" Momo almost moans out, her voice thick with desire. Her eyes drift to your chest, locking onto your hardening nipples, her gaze filled with longing and anticipation.

"Thought you just wanted to watch?" you tease, a playful smirk dancing on your lips as you enjoy the effect you have on Momo.

She huffs and runs her fingers through her hair. "You agreed for some help," she reminds you, her tone a mixture of frustration and anticipation.

You playfully hum pensively and say, "Max 3 kisses."

Momo leans in eagerly, her breath hot against your skin as she presses her lips against yours in three heavy, wet, and heated kisses. With each press of her lips, heat spreads between you, igniting a fire that consumes all thoughts but the burning need for each other.

Her breath is hot against your skin, her tongue dancing with yours. You can feel the urgency in her touch, the way her fingers curl around you as if she wants to pull you closer, to consume you entirely in the heat of the moment. Though, there's a tender desperation in her touch, as if she's trying to convey all her love and desire through each caress of her lips.

She pulls back after the third kiss, her lips lingering for a moment before she retreats, like the good girl she is. Her chest heaves with each breath, the intensity of the moment still lingering in the air as you both try to catch your breath.

"Touch yourself for me," Momo rasps, her voice low and husky, her fingers digging into the skin of your waist with a fervent urgency that betrays her desire.

You curse under your breath, feeling a surge of anticipation as you lift your hips to remove your underwear. But Momo is quicker than you, eagerly pulling the garment down your legs and tossing it aside somewhere in the room. She returns to her seat between your legs, a hungry look in her eyes as she waits for you to continue.

You bring a hand up to your breast, feeling the weight of it in your palm as you gently caress and squeeze, using two fingers to pinch a nipple between them. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and you can feel the warmth spreading throughout your body as you continue to explore and tease yourself.

Soft breaths leave your lips as you bring your other hand lower, your fingertips barely dipping into your heat. You're surprised to find yourself this wet, but of course, you'd be soaked with your girl sitting there watching you. The thought of Momo's eyes on you, witnessing your arousal, only intensifies the sensations coursing through your body, heightening your desire with every touch.

You move a finger down to your entrance, feeling the slickness of your arousal as you let out a soft whine. Gently, you drag your juices back up to circle around your clit, the sensation causing a wave of pleasure to wash over you. Each movement sends sparks of electricity through your body, and you can't help but moan softly as you lose yourself in the ecstasy of your own touch.

Momo's nails dig into your skin, sending a jolt of pleasure mingled with a hint of pain through your body. You look up to lock eyes with her, and in that moment, you notice the subtle way her hips are moving, grinding up in the air, seeking some relief. The intensity of her gaze makes you wonder if she's thinking about ravishing you, using you for her own pleasure, or perhaps both. There's a primal hunger in her eyes that mirrors your own, igniting a fire between you that threatens to consume everything in its path.

Another harsh squeeze from Momo and you respond by increasing the speed of your finger circling your clit, moans dripping out of your lips with each breath. The intensity of sensation builds as your pleasure escalates, and soon your other hand joins in the mix. Two fingers slip into your drenched sex, the slickness allowing them to glide in effortlessly.

A few curls of your fingers into yourself, and Momo cuts in, her voice husky with desire. "You're such a wet girl... fuck, pull them out," she groans, grabbing your wrist and bringing your soaked fingers to her lips.

Your digits slip into her mouth, and she moans around them, her tongue twirling as her eyes flutter shut in pleasure. You watch, gasping at the erotic sight before you, feeling your peak approaching rapidly as the intensity of the moment overwhelms you.

"Keep touching yourself, baby," Momo whines, her voice high. "God... cum for me. I wanna see how you make yourself cum." She guides your hand back to your cunt, her fingers purposely grazing your sensitive flesh, sending a shiver down your spine.

You bring your fingers back to your weeping hole, the slickness of your arousal coating your skin. Momo bends closer, her breath warm against your skin as she brings her face nearer. Out of breath, she brings each thumb to your lower lips, spreading you wide, aching to witness every detail of your pleasure.

"Momo, Momo, baby!" you cry out, your voice filled with urgency and desire. Momo nods in response, her own moans mixing with yours as she continues to spread you wide, her thumbs slipping on your wet lips and digging deeper to keep you open and exposed to her gaze.

"Y/N, you're gonna make me cum... Baby," Momo whimpers urgently, her voice trembling. "Please, make yourself cum for me. Let go." She collapses onto you, her lips pressing against your earlobe as her nose traces the line of your jaw, her every touch sending waves of pleasure through your body.

As you reach your peak, struggling for air, you choke out Momo's name, and she does the same, repeating your name over and over in a symphony of shared pleasure. With each gasp and moan, you both surrender to the ecstasy of the moment, your bodies trembling with pleasure as you ride the waves of climax together.

The pleasure subside, you find yourselves tangled in each other's limbs, your bodies still shaking with the remnants of bliss.

"Momo," you whisper breathlessly, your voice barely audible as you cling to her.

"Mmm, Y/N," Momo murmurs in response, her breath warm against your skin as she holds you close.

You share a tender kiss, the taste of yourself still lingering on her lips. "I love you," you say softly, your words filled with warmth and affection.

"I love you so much," Momo replies, her voice filled with tenderness as she peppers your face with gentle kisses.

"You know… I wouldn't mind giving you more of these types of lessons."

#twice imagines #twice x reader #kpop imagines #gg x reader #twice scenarios #gg imagines #twice smut #momo x reader #very embarrassing #hate rereading smut #also this is way too long

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martiestudies · 1 month

Text

This week I start a new semester and I'm not feeling it, at all. So if you're like me and need a little help to get through it, here's a list of things to keep in mind:

Organization is KEY

Blocking when you have classes and what's free time in a visual way is super helpful for figuring out how to plan your semester.

Another important thing is getting the sylabus for your courses so you know how to prioritize; plan realistic study sessions so you can stay on course as much as possible.

Remember to separate big tasks into smaller tasks not only so it's easier to organize but also because it's easier to feel accomplished and staying motivated :)

Be realistic with your goals and limitations

Knowing yourself is super important; plan according to what you know YOU can handle. Dedicate more time to things you struggle the most with, prioritize the harder subjects.

Don't forget that everyone has different limits, and don't compare yourself and your progress to others! Your own pace is the only thing that matters.

Take breaks and time for yourself

Remember not everything is about studying. If you use all your time and energy on school, it's easier to get burnt out. Dedicate time for yourself, take frecuent breaks between study sessions, clear your head with series o a book; I promise coming back to the material and concentrating will be so much easier.

Consult your professors

I cannot stress this enough: ASK. Ask about everything you didn't understand; ask them to explain something again; evacuate your doubts as often as you can, even if they seem silly. Professors usually have available office hours or emails where you can contact them, and they also apreciate a lot when it seems you are putting the effort.

Also! Asking questions and participating in class makes it easier for you to remember and absorb the information you're learning.

Study groups

I'm not the biggest fan of studying with other people, but sometimes it's super helpful knowing a few classmates whom which you can share and compare notes and doubts, motivation and frustrations. Revising with someone else can be useful to check what material you need to study more or test what you already studied.

Stay motivated

A pinterest moodboard, thematic playlists, searching for applications or fun facts about what you're studying, MAKING IT FUN, rewarding ourselves after every goal reached. It's super important to, again, not getting burnt out and losing the drive to finish the semester.

Your brain needs energy

Sometimes we forget how important eating and sleeping well is for academic performance.

Don't skip your meals! And have snacks laying around when you're studying. Eating or drinking something substantial every few hourse helps energize your brain so it can process what you're learning.

Resting enough hours is also essential to maximize the efficiency of studying. Sleeping well and plenty helps you concentrate better, retain information easier and think more clearly.

P e r s e v e r a n c e

Discipline is key to get the results we want, even if sometimes we have to sacrifice free time or more compelling activities. Stay on track, follow the plan and don't give up easily. Remember what you're doing it for.

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minhosimthings · 2 months

Text

Love Wins All - LHS

Synopsis: In which Heeseung is your true home.

Pairings: bf!Heeseung × fem!reader

Warnings: reader has a panic attack, reader has complicated relationship with her parents, crying, the eldest daughter syndrome, swearing, HEE COMFORT LETS GAURRRR, fluff, mention of food, me being poetic as always

A/N: whadup y'all I am unfortunately alive so I'm BACK with this here Heeseung fluff because I love him and he is mine and I am going mental. This is for the Hyuck to my Mark, my beloved @jaeyunluvr

There is a peculiar notion that exists in the human world that no one can love you more than your parents. The people who created you. The people who brought you into this universe, this magnificent galaxy of ours that we call home.

There is a notion that your parents are home.

But you learnt early on in life not to make homes in people. You learnt that people are like travelling rivers , like the flowing water in a forest stream, which brings about both peace and destruction, depending on how one's eyes view it. People would never allow you to make homes in them.

And no matter how hard you tried to make a home out of your mother and father, because you thought they were the only people you were compelled to live in, you failed. If people were asking to calm rivers, your parents were like the harsh nightly waves of an ocean, which brought out destruction as they hit the rocks of the shore over and over again and again, never ceasing to think about how the rocks are doing.

Nevertheless, you managed to find a home of your own. You were surprised you did, what with how much you didn't believe in homes and souls and all that bullshit you read repeatedly in books and saw on the screen.

But Heeseung was different, you thought to yourself. He was like a river you had made yourself a travelling home in, one which would be suited well to his serenely flowing water, which touched and kissed you like the skyline kissed the sea at dawn.

Heeseung was different, you knew that. He was that familiar pair of arms and that familiar, comforting scent that you always imagined you'd go home to as a child. He was the person who you had dreamed of as a teenager, someone who'd hang up your coat for you after a long day, someone who'd make you pancakes in the morning while you slumbered on, someone who'd talk with you deep into the starry nights about anything and everything, someone who'd kiss your forehead everyday before leaving for work, someone who'd love you and show you that your 17 year old perception of the concept of love was not wrong.

So there was no thinking about it when he was the first and only person you wanted to collapse into after a devastating, disastrous, draining day, filled with no calm waves and no love.

•••••••••••••••

The sound of your keys jangling, as they were set down onto the key holder, bought a smile to Heeseung's face, as he was cooking up the last portions of pasta. It was Friday night, which meant that you and him were going to eat Heeseung's notorious pesto pasta, drink some wine and relax into the night's clutches. Saturdays meant going out, so Friday was set aside for peace.

Heeseung's left the noodles simmering in the water as he shut the lid and took off his apron before going to greet you. He was excited for pasta night today, since it had been a long week, filled with work on both your sides. Additionally, you had been staying over at your parents' house for some time, so that added to the lonely hours Heeseung spent in bed hugging your hoodies because he couldn't fall asleep without the scent of you lingering understand his nostrils.

Now, he was hot on his heels, ready to engulf you into the biggest hug ever and kiss you for eternity. Perhaps he was exaggerating, but the taste of your lips on his really was asking to ambrosia to him. If the Gods had their nectar, then he had his.

"Evening, princess." Heeseung chuckled, leaning against the kitchen door as he watched you slowly take your coat off and hang it up on the rack. Lifting your head up, your mouth stretched into a smile on seeing him.

"Seungie..." You cooed, walking over to him and immediately locking yourself into his arms. Heeseung's left arm went to your waist, the other going to support your head. You layed your head gently on his chest, your own arms tied 'round his slender figure.

The comforting scent of him, cherry cologne, basketball tees and pasta sauce, filled your senses as you took a deep breath in, closing your eyes. Perhaps it was from the pure exhaustion you were feeling, but the mere scent of him brought you back to where you've wanted to be for the entire week.

Home.

Heeseung was your home wasn't he?

You felt Heeseung smile as he loosened his tight grip on you, pulling back to look at you. His bambi eyes traced your features one by one, making you feel a bit shy, as if the love of your life wasn't doing what he always did. Heeseung's eyes wavered a little as they landed on your slightly bloodshot ones. Ever the observant man, he was, he chose not to question you about it, knowing you would tell him the reason sooner or later.

"I missed you." You beamed up at him, as a breathy chuckle left his plump, pink (perfectly kissable) lips, "Missed your pasta too." You nose wrinkled at the delicious smell coming from the kitchen, as you glanced towards the door.

"Only my pasta?" Heeseung's bottom lip jutted out to form an adorable pout, which you oh so missed, "Not my kisses?"

"Nope." You giggled, popping your lips, eyes wandering down to his again, "Only your pasta."

Heeseung smiled gently as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. The gentleness of his touch made tears well up in your eyes, you had craved this love for a week now, as if you were Eve, starved of interest, and in her hunger, taking a bite of the apple to satisfy herself.

"Love?"

You snapped out of your stupor at the sound of Heeseung's honeyed voice, gently calling you. You felt the warm touch of his hand against your cheek, he gently cupped it and closely examined you with his eyes.

"Are you alright?" He asked, voice still soft as cotton, as if he would have broken you if he spoke any louder, "You don't look too good."

"I'm fine!" You responded, the words coming out a little more enthusiastic that you had intended them to, "I just need a shower." You laughed it off, but Heeseung knew (through what he called his boyfriend tingle) that you most certainly were not ok.

"Love, are you sur-"

"I'm fine, Heeseung." You firmly stated, putting your own hand on top of the one Heeseung had on your cheeks, gently pushing his off, "I'm gonna go take a shower." You smiled again at him before glancing towards the kitchen, "And you've got some pasta to make, mister, so get going."

Heeseung grinned before letting go of your waist, one last kiss was pressed to your forehead before he rushed off into the kitchen to put together a dinner fit for royalty.

•••••••••••••

The feeling of warm water hitting your skin, whilst you stood underneath the shower, brought about the waterworks. This feeling, this familiar feeling of showering in your own bathroom was ridiculous to bring tears to your eyes, but here you were. Soaking in despair, as memories of the week you had spent came rushing to your brain.

You enjoyed staying with your parents, you truly did. After all, they had been the ones to witness each one of your fails and each one of your successes, carefully shaping you, like a potter with his clay, to avoid the mistakes and focus solely on being the golden child. But they had failed to notice that even the golden child burns out sometimes, even the Icarus child loses her wings. That, combined with the never ending screams and shouts that envelope your childhood home, you weren't even sure sometimes whether your parents actually loved you or not.

Love, as you had believed it from ages six to ten, was the feeling of receiving ice cream, the feeling of someone running a brush through your hair, the feeling of rushing home from school and excitedly doing your homework, so that the teacher would give you a star the other day.

Love, from ages eleven to sixteen, was something that was fictional, something that was described so sweetly in the books that you thought 'of course it isn't real'. It was something to be bought and sold, something that couldn't actually exist between people, you blanked out at the fact that when you visited your friend's home, you found her parents talking merrily to each other, as if they actually knew one another.

Love to you, now, was a complex conundrum of ideas. It was full of paradoxes and oxymorons that you didn't want to spend hours decoding and deciphering.

For now, love had been the same cherry cologne, the same honey coated voice, and the same pair of doe eyes, staring lovingly into yours after a long day, whilst you lay with tangled limbs and slightly fuller hearts.

Stepping out the shower, with a warm towel wrapped around yourself, you stared at yourself in the vanity mirror, tracing your hands over your face, whilst your eyes did the same with themselves. Heeseung would definitely notice how bloodshot your eyes were, and you didn't want to put more of a burden on him than you thought you had already done.

Burden. That word again.

Always showing up when you least wanted it to. Of course you were a burden to your parents, why on earth would they even want you, now that you had a life of your own? Apart from the fact that you were the sole witness to the years of domestic bitterness, they had no idea who you truly were. And of course, you were a burden to the world, you had been taught that since the ripe age of eight. Who'd ever want a burden?

You quickly rubbed some of your face cream onto your skin, hoping it would make the tear marks disappear. As for the bloody eyes, well, there was always the soap in the eyes' excuse.

Your hands roughly blended the cream into your skin, you knew it was unhealthy, but at that point, all you wanted was a plate of pasta in front of you and a tall, pink haired man in your arms.

••••••••••••••••

Heeseung stood in the kitchen, frozen like a deer in headlights, staring down at your phone. An unread message proudly showed itself against your bright Studio Ghibli wallpaper. Messages from your younger brother. He was about six years younger than you, and he still stayed at his parents, being a year away from college. That was what Heeseung knew, based off of what you'd told him. Messages from your brother were peculiar, because for one, he was busy with his work, and two, apart from sending each other dozens of reels on Instagram everyday, you and your brother never really talked much. It was that kind of sibling-love, Heeseung thought, the kind which stayed on, even after not conversing with actual words.

So these many messages from your brother was weird, especially considering the fact that the first one started with "Are you doing alright?"

Out of curiosity, Heeseung had checked the texts, and his mouth fell open at what was before his eyes. His mind couldn't comprehend what your brother had been taking about.

Dozens upon dozens of texts, all taking about something with the keywords, 'argument', 'parents' and some or the other thing to do with 'I miss you'. Heeseung's brain seemed to do some kind of a backflip, as he finally realised why your eyes were so bloodshot when you had arrived.

"Hee? Baby?" Heeseung snapped out of his stupor at the sound of your voice behind him. He was quick to put your phone down and pretend like he was checking on the pasta.

"Need anything baby?" He asked, eyes visibly softening as he looked at you. You smiled gently at him.

"Have you seen my phone?" You ask, peering around for it.

"Yeah uhm..." Heeseung hesitated for a moment before picking up the phone on the counter behind him, "Here you go."

Your fingers gently brushed against his as you took the phone from him, offering him a smile as you did. Heeseung turned back to his pasta, while your eyes gravitated to the multiple texts that lay scattered on the screen. Quietly sighing, you sat down on the chair, and resting your arms on the table, scrolled through your brother's texts.

You felt your jawline tighten more by the second as you read each and every sentence, the drastic moments of the horrible week you had suffered flashing in front of your eyes. The air around you seemed to still as you read your brother's last text. Perhaps you had read it wrong, you thought, but no manges how much you tried to convince yourself that your tear-filled eyes did not just read 'I miss you, when are you coming again?' wrong, you couldn't.

Your heart tore itself into bits and pieces as you re-read the texts again, torturing yourself by doing so. You had told yourself that you'd never go back to the argument filled house again, back to bad memories and nightmares. But there was that pang of guilty sleeping inside of you, 'They are your parents after all', 'They raised you, shouldn't you be more grateful for it?'.

The air around you stilled as you felt the muscles of your chest constrict, your veins tangled into one another, like dark, flimsy ribbons. You couldn't remember when the last time was that you felt like this. Perhaps it was in high school, when you had lost a quiz, solely because you had one less mark than the winner. Or perhaps it was when you had won the tennis match, on the grounds that the other player had been cheating. Whatever it was, you couldn't recall the last time the world came swirling down on you like a tornado and you felt like your lungs were filled with weeds.

This feeling inside seizes you, holds you tight, and doesn't allow you to take a proper breath. And that's ok, you think. You don't need to breathe, not yet. But the feeling doesn't stop, and your body eventually screams for another breath. The thing is, though, you can't get any air in, so you panic once again. The cycle never ends. It keeps repeating until you're drowning in your sweat and anxiety

"Baby?" You faintly heard Heeseung's voice from afar, "Y/N, love, look at me." His voice was firmer this time, and you felt the soft touch of his fingers on your skin.

His gaze loomed over your blank expression, never before had he seen your eyes so devoid of any emotion. Heeseung takes in the painfully blank expression on your pale face, the way your chest is rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths that you couldn't quite seem to control, the way you were angled himself just slightly away from him, and suddenly his mind snaps back into place.

You're having a goddamn panic attack, one that you haven't had in a long time.

When he gets his fingers wrapped around your own, he can feel how cold they’ve gone, can feel the fine tremble of adrenaline working through them, and can’t quite choke down the noise of sympathy in his throat. He tugs on your hand.

“Baby, come on, breathe.” He said, slowly reaching out to you, “Love, look at me,” He said sternly, turning you around to face him. He immediately searched your eyes to get you to look at him.

As soon as your eyes landed on his— those beautiful pools of comforting chaos and shimmering stars that you wanted all to yourself—the lasso that was tied tightly around your exhausted brain, broke with an audible snap.

A loud, theatrical sob ripped through your chest as the dam at your eyes broke. Tears flowed down your skin rapidly, like raindrops in a thunderstorm. You probably looked pathetic at the moment, which caused you to double over in another trough of tears. You wanted this night to be perfect for Heeseung. So why couldn't you just be perfect?

Heeseung could sense your thoughts running wild in your mind. He tightly gripped you in between his arms as you sobbed. He blinks his own tears away, and bites his lip to stop himself from calling your parents every possible insult that existed in the English lexicon.

Heeseung hated seeing you cry. It was one of the few things that actually made him sad. Seeing how your beautiful eyes would fill up with tears, how your lip would tremble and how your entire body would shake like a life in the wind, much like it was doing now, he despised all of it.

"Shh love, it's alright." He hummed so softly that make you want to cry even more, "It's alright, I'm here. You're safe."

“I-I’m really sorry—…” you choke out between sobs, "—I'm sorry!"

But Heeseung only pulls you closer to him, his grip growing tighter, as if he wanted to squish all the despair out of you, "I'm here for you, princess."

You let your body go limp and rested your head on Heeseung's shoulder. His hand instinctively cradled your head and stroked your hair. You felt calm now, but weren't ready to move and Heeseung didn’t seem to be in any hurry for you to get up. However, he was in a hurry to get you to breathe properly.

“Love, come on now, look at me,” Heeseung said, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to open your eyes to look at him. “Come on, with me, yeah? Breathe.” He then took a slow, deep breath, and you mirrored his actions.

“And again,” he said, getting you to focus on slowing your breathing down. One of his hands held yours against his chest so that you could feel the pattern of his breaths. After several moments of slowing your breathing and getting you to breathe normally again, you finally sighed and looked up at Heeseung with tired eyes, muttering a small 'thank you' to him.

You stayed wrapped up in his arms for quite some time, stuck in the moment in quiet silence, the only sound being the sound of Heeseung's softly humming. His fingers drawing shapes on your back and his voice gently floating through the air slowed your world down to a still, a rare moment for you that you quiet enjoyed.

"Baby?" Heeseung cooed softly, "Would you like to go up to the bedroom?"

Exhausted from all the crying and unable to open your dry mouth, you mindlessly shook your head, only wanting to stay in his warm arms for longer.

"Then do you want to talk about what happened?" A soft smile settled on his lips, bringing your mind to ease and a little more saliva into your mouth. Sighing heavily, you spoke.

"I—my parents," you started rather lamely, the gravel in your voice was evident, "I can't deal with their taunts and scoldings everytime I go over to their house. That and the fact that they keep fighting all day." You sighed again, "I'm not saying 'don't fight' or anything–I get it they're grown adults, but fuck Hee, I can't deal with the fact that they don't even wait for my brother and I to leave the house before they're going at it on each other like bulls." You felt Heeseung's fingers slightly tighten, "And they keep fucking making me feel like I'm the least perfect person I'm this entire world when they, out of all people, know that I'm trying so hard."

"And I can't rid my brain of the fact that my brother has to suffer all that until he gets to college. And sometimes I feel like I've betrayed him by getting away from that stupid house." Your voice slightly cracked, the tears starting to form at your eyes again, "–and I feel so fucking selfish all the time for that. And then there's the fact that no matter how perfect I try to be for them, they just don't accept it!"

You breathed out a long held breath of air and melted into Heeseung's arms once more, your hand holding onto his shirt tightly, as if he's float away if you let him go. You felt guilty about his wet shirt, stained with all your dumb tears.

"Sorry about the shirt...." You mumbled, hiding your face, "And for everything else, I know I've ruined the night-"

"Oh princess." Heeseung softly cooed, a smile dancing on his lips, "You didn't ruin anything for me." His fingers went to your chin, grabbing your face and tilting it up to look at him. Your eyes met his and you relaxed at the true home you saw in his irises.

"I love you, you know that right?" He asked, to which you nodded. He let his grip on your chin fall down to rest on your waist again.

"Do you know why I love you so much?" He asked again, to which you meekly nodded a 'no'.

"It's because you're human." Heeseung said, making you snap your head up at him with a confused (or in Heeseung's terms, adorable) look.

"I don't love you only for the perfect version of yourself, or for your amazing cooking." You let out a tiny puff of a laugh at that, "I love you for all your flaws, all your fails and all of you. Baby, no one is ever gonna be perfect and if your parents can't understand that, then, pardon me for saying it, but fuck them."

You let out a raw laugh at his words, burying your head in his chest as you giggled, feeling the saliva come back to your mouth as he gave you a tight squeeze.

"You're the most perfect person in the world to me." He cooed gently, "No cap." A lopsided smirk decorated his face after his last words.

"Heeseung!" You laughed raucously at him, "What have Jake and Riki been teaching you?"

"It's the language of love mi amore." He smirked again, his eyes shining like nebulas.

"Can we have that pasta now?" You asked timidly, beaming up at Heeseung, who smiled his warmth back at you, "And watch Howl's Moving Castle?"

"Anything for you, love." Heeseung pressed his lips to yours in a short sweet kiss, one which you'd never get tired of, even as a thousand suns set and a thousand moons rise up from the horizon, you'd never get tired of Heeseung and his gentle love.

"I love you." You broke off from the kiss to take a breath.

"I love you more, princess."

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 6 months

Text

I've been dreaming of the Seeker of Cradles.

He swore to protect them. His children, his princess, his country.

Lives are precious, and he will not see them snuffed out prematurely.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Lilia acts before he can think.

He pays no mind to the audible gasps of the senators, to Baul’s worried pleading. The only voice he listens to is the one that draws him like a moth to a glowing flame.

It’s a shrill cry, the sound any infant makes. But the sob is filled with an overwhelming sadness, a deep desire that resonates with him. Lonely, longing for love.

It breaks his heart, makes him tear up.

“Wait for me!" he shouts. "I’m coming to you right now...!”

He thunders up the steps of Cradle Tower, bracing himself against the lightning hurtling his way. His hood is thrown off, hair whipping, slapping him in the face and standing on end. Lilia fears no man--but in the presence of such sheer, raw power, he's compelled to cower.

He soldiers through, forcing himself up another step. Right as his foot connects, a wild bolt comes down hard, striking him.

Lilia lets out a guttural cry, his small body keeling over. Every fiber of his being screeches in pain.

"Vanrouge-dono...!!"

He stays stationary for one long, awful moment. Then--a sharp intake of breath--and he miraculously rises on trembling legs.

"H-Hah..." he grits out, clutching onto himself. "Is that... Is that all you've got?! It'll take a lot more than THAT to take me out. Your mother has made me deal with tantrums far worse than this!!"

Lilia resumes the arduous climb. More lightning is lobbed at him. Wincing, he wills his aching muscles to weave as best he can around the incoming attacks.

He's nearing the top of the stairwell now, where the power is most concentrated and the wind howls like a banshee. Lilia raises his voice, calling over the storm.

"Are you upset because no one's paying attention to you? Well, you're wrong!! Everyone... Everyone is terribly worried about you!!

"You're such a spoiled child, rejecting your grandmother's magic. Do you know what will happen to you if you don't take it?! You'll die. You'll DIE, and all the people who sacrificed themselves so you could live was for nothing. You don't have the luxury of choice!! You MUST live!!"

The future depends on you.

He doesn't know if the unborn child can understand him or not. It must, to some extent, because the screaming in his head escalates to a frenzied pitch. A strong gale nearly knocks Lilia off the tower--he grasps onto a column and inches closer to its treasure.

The dark, speckled egg floating inside of a barrier.

"You stubborn thing!! Lilia scolds, pushing against the magical shield. His palms burn, as if coated with acid. "If you still refuse... then take me instead of Maleficia...!! I'll give you everything."

He pushes, the barrier holding firm. Pain climbs up his forearms, eating him alive from the inside out. He feels his energy being leeched, his flesh screaming, on fire, as it is sucked out.

"My love..."

The barrier shudders, shakes.

"My magic..."

His biceps are searing, his blood, molten.

"My life...!!"

A crack.

"Accept it all, Malleus...!!"

It breaks.

Lilia falls through, arms extended toward the egg. He entraps it, hugging it tightly against his chest. It’s warm. Malleus is warm, and Lilia can feel a faint flutter of a heart on his skin. Contentedness floods him, even as he feels the pull of magic as it is drained and hungrily devoured.

The egg gives off a green glow from within. The light grows brighter and brighter, until—

“Kyuuuuuuuuuuu!”

Suddenly, an explosion of blinding white. The shell splinters and sheds.

There is no egg in Lilia’s arms, but a lizard with raven scales and a violet underbelly and spines. It blinks up at the general through round, reptilian eyes, belching a line of emerald fire.

“A-Ah… You are…” Lilia’s knees go weak. He falls to the ground, still cradling the baby to him. “Malleus…! You’re here at long last. I… I-I…”

He doesn’t realize it, but he has started to cry uncontrollably. Fat tears dribble down his cheeks and land on the baby dragon’s hide.

Lilia allows himself to wail. It’s ugly, full of raw emotion. Less human and more like the cry of a hideous beast.

From below, cheers and praise float up to him.

“Our hero!”

“Congratulations, Vanrouge!”

“The prince owes his life to you.”

Their words sting his head. The world wavers, wildly distorting--Lilia can't tell if it's his tears blurring his vision or not.

He crumples over with a groan. "M-My head... Agggh!"

"Kyuuuu?" Malleus pads a claw onto his cheek, confused.

The senator's voices are growing louder, angrier.

"VANROUUUUUGE!!"

"What has he done?! This is going to be a scandal--a scandal, do you hear me?!"

"Oh, to think that a disgusting bat has tainted the noble Draconia bloodline...!"

The contradictory shouts mix. It feels like there are fists beating his skull in from both sides. Lilia hangs his head, pulls at his hair, tries to understand the clashing sounds.

That's when he senses the presence of a shadow standing over him.

"I’ve found you at last, Lilia.”

He slowly raises his eyes, careful to keep Malleus guarded with his arms. There is a man in black robes towering over him, his mouth fixed in a frown. A pair of horns protrudes from his head, crowning his ominous yet regal aura.

“What… Who are you?!” Lilia demands of the stranger. “That face, those horns…!”

They're just like Levan and Meleanor's.

The stranger ignores his question. His expression has morphed from displeasure to anger. "Insolent fools!! How dare they speak ill of you. There will be severe consequences for this.”

The air stirs, chilling. Thunder crashes in the distance, seemingly in response to his fury.

He regards Lilia again, his voice dropping to a dangerously dulcet coo. “Ah, but you needn't concern yourself with them."

He takes a stride forward, and Lilia shrinks away. "S-Stay back! I'm warning you...!"

"What sort of a dream would you like to have this time, hmm?" he asks nonchalantly. "A dream in which mother and father are still by your side? A dream where you can live freely with your children? A dream for you to find true love? Just say the word, and it is yours."

With each suggestion, Lilia backs up further and further--until he is nearly at the platform's edge. Wind blows from below, sending hair and fabric flapping.

Here is the devil, come to tempt, and the jaws of death behind him.

The stranger bends down, his smile serpentine and eyes iridescent, twisted with obsession. Charming as a snake. He extends an arm, palm open. "Come, Lilia. Take my hand."

“FATHER!!”

CLANG!

A bolt of silver arrives, expertly blocking Malleus's outstretched hand. He stumbles back, glaring at the two bodies that put themselves between him and Lilia.

“You are…”

“Are you alright?” The quiet question comes from a boy with aurora eyes—clear as a cloudless sky.

Silver.

“Lilia-sama, stand back!!” His partner, Sebek, barks, baton at the ready. “We will protect you!”

“What nuisances,” Malleus snarls. “Still you insist on disrupting these dreams? It is a hopeless endeavor.”

“Maybe it is.” Silver tightens his hold on his own baton. Resolution threads his voice, and he stands his ground against the encroaching monster. “But we will never stop trying until we’ve broken through your blessing.”

“Bless... ing?”

The single word is like magic. One droplet rippling in a pond, setting off a chain reaction.

Memories fire off—the departure, the packing, the party, well wishes, the thorns. Someone screams, jet black tears streaming down their face. The wrath, the hurt.

“I DON’T WANT TO LOSE YOU!!”

The fog lifts from Lilia’s head, and the world clears. The identity of the horned stranger, the same as the baby dragon he holds.

Malleus… It’s you. It was always you.

Lilia gives a shaky laugh. "This is no blessing, boys. It's a curse."

Malleus glowers. “… You’ve awakened, haven’t you?!”

“That’s right. It seems I was dreaming for quite some time too—but I’m alright now, thanks to Silver and Sebek~”

“Father…”

“Lilia-sama!!”

“You too then… You’ve decided to turn traitor on me.” He hisses it, loathes the taste of treachery.

“No, Malleus.”

“Kyuuuuuu?”

Lilia steps beside his students—a general joining his knights. Ruby meets emerald, glittering with defiance.

“We’re going to save you, simple as that 🎵”

165 notes · View notes

bettyfrommars · 1 year

Text

Bloodstream

vampire!eddie x supernatural!fem!reader

from the Death Becomes Us au

18+ONLY, smut, period sex, (f) receiving oral while on their period, unprotected p in v, wet dream, blood, the pet name 'sweetheart', drinking blood.

wc: 3.4k

Reader in Death Becomes Us is also supernatural and has some physical scars that are mentioned in this. Eddie is her neighbor in a trailer park filled with vampires, in a town where vampires are basically a tourist attraction. Bits of these things are mentioned, but this can easily be enjoyed as a stand-alone.

ALSO, this is pure smut that does not progress the story one bit 😂 So, if you'd rather skip it, you won't miss any crucial information.

I've had several requests for vampire!eddie smut and, even more specifically, vampire!eddie with a reader who is on their period, and so this was born. I've had this sitting finished for so long, I wasn't sure I would post it.

You hadn’t realized you’d drifted off to sleep on the sofa in front of an episode of The Twilight Zone until a knock at the door made your adrenaline race into action. It was a dark, moonless night, and the only illumination in your trailer was from the television, a string of tiny pumpkin lights along the window, and a flickering candle on the counter in the kitchen.

The time on the VCR said 11:46 and you got to your feet with caution, figuring it had to be a vampire at the door—you just weren’t sure which one.

“It’s me. Eddie,” his voice was a mumble out on the porch.

The sound made your heart stutter.

“What do you want?” You asked, pausing with your hand on the doorknob so you could look out the peephole. He was standing back a ways, hands in his pockets, elbows out, and a black shirt unbuttoned down his chest. He looked particularly dressed up, as if he’d been hustling the unsuspecting wealthy widows down at the country club.

You watched him smirk at your question. “Can’t a neighbor come by and say hi? I saw your TV was on.”

You gave a quick glance down at what you were wearing, making sure you were decent, but also to make sure you didn’t have crumbs all over you from the dry cereal you were eating earlier.

“I haven’t seen you around all week,” you got flustered after you said it, not wanting it to sound like you were waiting around for him and counting the minutes.

“Yeah,” he gave his lips a generous lick, wetting them until they were shiny. “You realized I was gone? Does that mean you missed me?.”

There was no formal understanding or commitment between the two of you, but also, there was something unspoken that compelled you to worry about him when you didn’t see the whites of his eyes for a few days.

You opened the door and inclined your head, motioning for him to come in, and moved back so he could step in off the porch. You’d already invited him in once, and unless you rescinded that invite, he could technically come in whenever he wanted.

He waltzed in like he owned the place, picking up small things as he went to inspect them, looking around as if trying to catch you in the act of doing something. You were just about to offer him some of the NuBlood you had in your cabinet in the event of a vampire guest when he stopped abruptly and took a long, violent inhale, and held the breath in his puffed out chest.

His eyes narrowed on you and began to darken. He sniffed the air again, and then his eyelids fluttered a bit as if he’d caught a whiff of heaven. The tip of his tongue shot out from between his ejected fangs.

“It’s that time of the month huh?” He asked it very casually, like a doctor might, and at first you wondered what he was referring to, but then you felt a sudden wetness in your underwear and a pang from your uterus.

“You can smell it?” You asked, stepping away. “I didn’t even realize that I—”

“You just started,” he told you in the same matter-of-fact way, turning on his heel. He walked over to the vanilla sugar candle, hoping it would mask the scent so that his cock wouldn’t come to attention right there in your trailer because his mouth was already watering. “Maybe I should come back another time,” he gripped the side of the counter so hard, he almost broke a piece of it off.

“Um, it’s okay, just, well, give me a second to—” you were about to walk by him on the way to the bathroom when his arm shot out as a barrier, catching you at your chest.

“No, stay,” he whispered. When your eyes met, you wondered if he was using that glamouring technique on you to make you do whatever he wanted, but then you remembered that you were impervious to vampire powers.

He took a step, closing the distance. You could see his abnormally slow heartbeat under the cold, pale, tattooed landscape of his throat. He tilted his chin up an inch as if exposing it more for you, watching with attentive eyes as you drank in the curve from his jaw to his neck, to the collar of his shirt.

“Like what you see?” Cocky and bold as ever, but this time, he was really asking. He really wanted to know.

You ignored his question, searching his face. “Why haven’t we ever kissed before?”

He choked at that abrupt outburst and attempted to smirk, but then cleared his throat. “Would you like to change that, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you stepped so that your leg was touching his, and his plump pink lips parted, eyelids drooping, anticipating your next move. Eddie opened himself up to you, pulling his shoulder blades back so that you could have his chest and throat, accepting whatever offer you had in mind.

"You're so cold," you mused, and then you were moving in, putting your warm mouth to his throat, relishing the smooth, cool flesh on your lips. You flicked your tongue out to make him groan a little, his hands moving to dig his fingers into your hips. He smelled like Ivory bar soap and fresh earth and vanilla musk, with those soft, nicotine undertones.

“I might be on the verge of melting,” he slid one hand between your legs and the damp heat that was building there. You nipped at his cool skin, sucking it through your teeth, while your hands worked up his ribs to find his nipples with your thumbs.

“I was wondering when you’d finally take advantage of me,” he offered a low chuckle. The laugh had a bit of nervousness in it, though, and his voice cracked at the end.

You could feel the vibration from his sound, licking a stripe up until you found his chin. He dropped his head, catching your mouth with his, and there was nothing practiced or cautious about the kiss—it was messy and desperate, and his ringed fingers found a home between your legs, making you moan.

The blood was seeping through your clothes, and for sure there was a stain through the material of your sweats by now.

“Your smell is making my mouth water,” he broke free from the kiss to put his forehead to yours, but his fingers continued moving in circles on the right spot. You blinked up to find that his eyes were closed. “It’s probably not a good idea for me to be here right now," he bit out, reluctantly.

But he didn’t move, and you curled your thumbs into his belt loops to catch him if he tried. He rolled his forehead back and forth across yours, making your noses brush while the pads of his fingers applied more pressure.

“Have you ever—” you trailed off, words catching in your throat as his hand breach the elastic of your bottoms. “---done this while someone was on their—-”

Eddie paused with his fingers on the skin of your lower belly, making their way down. He pulled his head back to get a read on your facial expression, but you were one of the few people in the world that was a mystery to him. “I’ve never had the pleasure.”

“Won’t it be…messy?”

“I like messy,” and then he chomped his teeth, biting the air between the two of you, before moving in to find your lips again, cupping the side of your face with his hand. His mouth did not close in on yours fully, but the tip of his tongue came out to catch your top lip.

You were up against the kitchen counter now, and you latched onto Eddie’s strong arm, encouraging his hand further down. You gave a muffled cry into his mouth when the pads of his fingers found the wetness seeping through your underwear.

It was too wet to be pure arousal, and just then the coppery tang scent hit the air, making Eddie suck in a sharp breath. “Blood from the uterus lining is some of the sweetest there is,” he growled the words, bypassing your underwear so that he could dip a finger down through your folds, rings clicking together. You pulled down on his arm like a lever until one of his fingers was sinking inside of you, making you gasp. Your walls clenched him, and you begged for another finger, “more,” so he obliged.

“The way you’re gripping around me—fuck,” Eddie said against your lips.

Your knees trembled as he fucked his fingers in you a few times, twisting them, curling them in deep, and then he started to pull out, slowly.

His eyes were pure black when his lids flicked open; tips of his fangs peeking out from between parted lips.

He brought his fingers up into view, and they were glistening with your crimson gift, dripping down his knuckles, and he admired the sight. You wondered what he would do, at first, but then you watched those digits disappear deep into his mouth, lips sealing around them at the base.

He swallowed a few times, and then sucked each one individually, cleaning up the drips on his hand with a greedy, quick tongue. When he was done, there were signs of his feast in the corners of his mouth, and in the shadowy flicker from the candle flame, it looked like he’d just devoured something smothered in barbeque sauce.

“You taste so good,” he breathed, forehead on yours again, his hands making fists in the material of your sweats, arm muscles tense, using all of his willpower not to rip them from your body. His tongue lashed out, tip beckoning in little curls, and you met the need with your own, tasting yourself on him.

It didn’t take long for you to be on the sofa in the living room with your sweats off and Eddie kneeling between your spread legs; a multitude of scars from ankles to hips on full display. He looked up at you first, eyes a pure, marble black, and you nodded, scooting hips forward so he could push your legs further apart.

A bit of tinted drool shone at the edge of his chin as his mouth found the mound of your arousal over your underwear, licking and sucking over the fabric, tasting you, nipping with his teeth. His tongue flattened out and dragged long and hard up your slit, making you cry out under your breath.

“Eddie,” you whimpered, sucking your bottom lip in through your teeth. Your pussy was literally aching for him, throbbing under the weight of his licks.

You had a hungry vampire between your legs, and he could snap your leg off at the hip like a twig if he wanted to. He could bite down on your femoral artery and drain you without breaking a sweat.

Your menstrual juices were painting his chin when he sat back to pull your underwear off and get rid of the final barrier, staring up at you as he did so. You sat forward, and he thought maybe you were going to push him off, but you held his head with both of your hands, guiding him in. “I want to cum in your mouth.”

His head lowered without pause, with the tremble of a grin on his soft lips, and he kissed your cunt first before you felt his tongue sink into your hole. Low moans were coming from deep in his chest as he fed, taking generous swallows. You rocked your hips up against his face and held his head there, whining when he moved his mouth up to roll his tongue in circles over your clit.

“Oh god, Eddie, oh fuck,” you shuddered.

He’d been starving for you for so long, not only for your blood, but for your scent, your pheromones, your taste. He wanted to kiss you from the inside out, he wanted to swallow you whole again and again, and still have you left over. He wanted you to know his secrets, to see the darkness in him and not be afraid.

You pushed his mouth off of you, for a second, to find that he was panting and pussy drunk, and you could see your reflection in his two black pools. You ran your thumb down his lips, catching the mess, and then pushed the thumb into his mouth, and he moaned, closing his eyes to suck it clean, one sharp fang dragging along your flesh.

You locked eyes with him, jaw going slack, and he dropped back down again to draw a few deliberate licks through your folds, fingers digging into your thighs.

With a gust of determination, he decided to switch the position. Eddie went to his back, flat on the ground, and pulled you with him so that you were on your knees above his head, straddling his shoulders.

Staring up at your pussy, he buried two of his fingers into you again and muttered, “god, you’re so fucking beautiful open wide for me like this.” He watched your hole spread out as a drip of blood rolled down his palm.

“Sit down,” he murmured, removing his fingers so that you whimpered, clenching on nothing. “Sit all the way down, pull all your weight on me, sweetheart.”

He coaxed you where he wanted you, his strong hands firm at your hips. You went down until you could feel his nose nestled at your clit and then his tongue darted inside of you with supernatural force. He fed on you for a few seconds, and then he was sucking at your bundle of nerves again, humming as he did so.

“Eddie! That’s—I’m so close,” you rolled your hips and grabbed some of his hair in your fist, making him mumble with pleasure. You braced your other hand on the ground at his shoulder to anchor yourself, even though you knew he had the strength to hold you. You were all but suffocating him now, bucking against his face.

Eddie could feel your sweet bud under his tongue get hard and he knew you were close. His cock twitched in anticipation, leaking arousal in his jeans.

“I’m gonna cum…fuck, I’m cumming!” It was then that the velvet walls began to crash around you, and your hole rippled at his chin. You arched back and released into his mouth, losing control. Between the cum and the blood, you felt like he owned a part of you know—you’d given him a potent cocktail that no one else would ever know the pleasure of.

He didn’t want anyone else to know the pleasure of it.

He let out a sound that was part man, part beast, and pulled the cheeks of your ass apart so that he could retrieve every drop from your slit, slurping as he did so. He drank while you came back to earth, trembling, moving your core back and forth over his face.

You went to crawl off, to move away and give him some air, but he locked you in place. “I’m not done,” his voice was muffled. You giggled at the sound of his lips smacking, but then you quivered at the way he continued to lap at your slit .

Once his grip loosened, you moved to get off of him completely, but he coaxed you back to sit on his chest, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs.

When he lifted his head up, his chocolate eyes were human again, his pale skin smeared with blood; down his chin, across his cheeks, even the tip of his nose. He bit down on his bottom lip and sucked it through to catch some of the excess, giving a contented sigh.

You reached behind you to feel the outline of his cock straining in his denim.

“Yeah?” He asked, searching your face as he moved to undo his belt buckle. “You want that?”

You nodded, at a loss for words at what was happening. Once you heard his jeans unzip, you sent your hand down to breach the elastic of his boxers, salivating when you found the wet tip. “Can I?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie reach down over your legs to push his jeans down further, releasing the thick, hard length. “You don’t even have to ask.”

He lifted his head to watch you line his cock up with your dripping hole, and when you began to ease down, your warm, wet walls contracted around the head and Eddie hissed. Your mouth opened as you sank, needing the way he stretched you out to the point that it was almost painful.

You gasped as you bottomed out, meeting his hooded gaze.

“You know, you can have this whenever you want,” he breathed. “This is all yours.”

“All mine? No one else’s?” You were riding him now, teasing him at the tip with a few muscle clenches before dropping all the way down again.

You lowered your torso so that your bodies were pressed together and Eddie bucked up into you deep and slow a few times.

Your lips were an inch or two away from his, and you watched his eyes go black again as another hunger seized him. “Tell me,” you pushed. “Tell me that you belong to me now,” you purred.

Somehow, you could feel another orgasm mounting when the smell of your blood on his lips crowded your senses.

He slotted one hand at your jaw, thumb cradling your ear, and with the other, he coaxed your hips down to take him deeper, and his thrusts snapped up to meet you.

“I’ve always been yours,” he whispered it around a hard swallow, just before your mouth came crashing down, tasting yourself on him, wanting to inhale his words so they could feed you in a different way. There were tears building for some reason, and you blinked your eyes open to meet his gaze, to see if he was emotional too.

And then, you woke up.

It took you a full minute to adjust to the harsh, unwelcome morning light as you became aware of the full sun exposure of your bedroom.

You coughed a few times, feeling the wind get literally knocked out of you when you realized the truth of the situation.

You’d had too many vampire Eddie sex dreams to count at that point, ever since you’d ingested his blood that night after you were attacked, but this one in particular left your heart heavy and your pussy aching.

Normally, you’d have to reach for your vibrator to finish yourself off when you woke up from the throes of one of those wet dreams, but this time, you only felt sad, and the desire for pleasure was gone as soon as you adjusted to reality.

You hadn’t fallen asleep in front of the tv, Eddie had never come knocking, and the two of you had never so much as kissed. You also had not caught a glimpse of him in over a week, since he’d taken you to visit Sacrament, the vampire bar in The Upside Down. You’d seen a different car at his place a few times, probably just popping in to take care of his cat, but other than that—nothing.

You wondered where he went at night, and you wondered if he ever thought of you.

In real life, you wanted nothing to do with him, but these vampire-blood induced dreams were really starting to mess with the integrity of your resolve.

Also, you realized that you’d just started your period.

You stood wearily from your bedside and carried the remnants of a familiar disappointment with you to the bathroom, and then the kitchen, angling for some coffee to make it better. You poured water into the Brewmaster you found at a thrift store and flipped it on to percolate while you went to water your one plant in the window.

Your eyes lifted groggily to look outside as you hydrated your potted friend and noticed that Eddie’s GTO was parked out front of his place. The blackout curtains to his trailer were all pulled shut so tight, you couldn’t get a glimpse inside, so at least you knew he was home.

Suddenly, you were flooded with a sexually frustrated irritation that made you curse his name into the void.

Part 7

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