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yandere-daydreams · 11 days

Text

Title: Foxglove and Oleander.

Pairing: Yandere!Sukuna x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 6.0k

Commissioned by the very lovely @letstalktea.

TW: Heian Era AU, Wildly Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Blood + Violence, Deliberate Manipulation, Obsessive Behavior, and Implied Cannibalism.

Sukuna first arrived the night your chrysanthemums bloomed.

That was the only reason you weren’t in the temple when the fire reached it. Against your better judgement and the wishes of your superiors, you’d committed yourself to spending the night in the courtyard, carefully monitoring each delicate bud as they slowly unfurled and stained your garden with scattered blotches of bright, bleeding scarlet. In the morning, it would be your responsibility to gather each flower, dry their petals, and deliver them to the temple’s healers to use as medicinal herbs before you were allowed to get to your less seasonal chores, but tonight, the chrysanthemum belonged to you.

From your little corner of the courtyard, you watched as flames climbed the side of the side of the mountain, consuming the forest that surrounded your home before latching onto the servants’ barracks, then the outer sanctuaries, before finally reaching the main body of the temple. There were a few screams to accompany the fire’s first arrival, but they were quickly drowned out by the fire’s deafening roar, by the sound of buildings already mostly burnt away collapsing into themselves and putting their unfortunate occupants out of their misery. You could feel the heat, hear the others begin to flee, but it was only as the fire reached the peak of its gluttony that he emerged, entirely unscathed and painted with the blood of those you supposed you may have cared about, if you’d had more time. Sukuna, although you wouldn’t know to call him by that name, just yet.

It went without saying that he was hideous. Too many limbs, too many eyes, too many mouths – every part of him distorted with bulk and muscle and ink. His teeth struck you first, bared and glinting in the blinding firelight, then his clothing, the tattered and charred remains of what appeared to be a once fine kimono tied around his waist. He was carrying a spear, but he drove it into the ground as he stepped out of the inferno. There was something slung over his shoulder, too – a corpse, male and burnt beyond the point of recognizability – but that was abandoned just as thoughtlessly, left to rot on the outskirts of your garden. You were glad. Your chrysanthemums wouldn’t survive being crushed by such dead weight.

He didn’t notice you immediately. You stayed where you were, kneeling in the dirt, as he turned in either direction, taking in the devastation with a full-chested laugh. The noise was, in kinship with his appearance, unspeakably gruesome.

Finally, he turned to face you, his eyes lighting up in spite of the stark shadows cast over his face. His spear was still within arm’s reach, but he made no attempt to retrieve it – holding out an open hand to you, instead. “Are you a monk or a maiden?” he asked, his voice more of a growl than anything proper, anything human. “I’ve already had my fill of the former, tonight.”

“A servant,” you answered, bowing your head by way of greeting. “I tend the gardens, among other things. Are you the one killing all the acolytes?”

“Among other things.” His tone had a mocking lilt, although he seemed far from vicious. You’d been warned about that, once, by someone very dear to you. You couldn’t remember the specifics, but the sentiment was still clear enough. ‘Do not fear the animal that bares its teeth, but the creature who lures you closer before it lunges’, or something like that. “I’m afraid I only have a taste for holy meat, tonight. Although, if you run, I’ll certainly take more enjoyment in striking you down.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but—”

“Lord,” he corrected. “Make that mistake again and it’ll be the last time I allow you the privilege of using your tongue.”

“My apologies, my lord.” Again, you bowed your head. “The high priest can be harsh with his discipline. My ankle is still healing, and I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to move quickly enough for either of us to get very much out of it.”

He grinned, and the fire raged on behind him. “Grovel, then. Perhaps, if you manage to please me, I’ll be merciful and kill you quickly.”

He was clearly a man (man? monster? beast?) of great ego. You pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth, trying to block out the taste of something harsh and acidic rising up from the back of your throat. “If it’s all the same to you,” you managed, eventually, sparing one last glance towards your chrysanthemums. They really were beautiful. You could only regret that you’d never get to see them in the light of day. “I’d really rather not. It seems like it be easier, to just… uh, let you get the job done, as it were.”

In his defense, his pride overshadowed his shock. That, or you simply weren’t the first person he’d met to pay your own life such little regard. “I’ve cut down braver men for bolder suggestions.”

“But you cut them down all the same.” You swallowed, dryly. It’d been a while since you’d last had anything to eat or drink – the better part of a day, at least – but you supposed you wouldn’t have to worry about that for much longer. “I’m sorry, my lord. I would try to run, but my ankle really does make things difficult.”

He regarded you for a moment, as yet another wing of the temple buckled under its own weight. You decided, as you stared back at him, that his eyes weren’t so terrible – the pair he was supposed to have, at least. Although currently narrowed and creased around the edges, they had a pleasant color, a unique shade of red that seemed to glow when it caught the firelight. At least one part of him was bearable to look at.

Finally, he broke the silence, his resonant voice taking on a more authoritative cadence. “Come.”

He didn’t extend a hand, or gesture for you to follow, only trekking onward – towards the temple’s gates, left open in the panic of the exodus. Gingerly, weary of your injured ankle, you pushed yourself to your feet and hastened to his side. Sukuna only paid you glance by way of acknowledgement, but you didn’t mind. “Are you going to kill me in the woods, instead?”

“Uraume’s been asking for another set of hands.” You weren’t sure what he was talking about, but you nodded as if you understood entirely. He spared you a small, thoughtless smile, and you decided that he was also the type of man who often enjoyed the luxury of never being questioned. “If they don’t care for you, I’ll kill you wherever I wish.”

“Ah.” You passed under the temple gates by his side. Not long after that, you heard the great crash of stone into earth, and knew that those, too, had collapsed. “I hope it’s somewhere with lots of flowers. I’ve always wanted to die somewhere beautiful.”

His only answer was another, more lingering glance in your direction, a low bark of a laugh. Satisfied, you let the conversation lapse into silence and walked into the night by the side of a monster.

“How do you choose where to go?”

He didn’t respond, not immediately. Instead, one of his spare hands brought yet another grape to your lips, and with a pleased hum, you accepted it, savoring the sour tinge that accompanied the sweetness. From what you gathered, he preferred savory to sweetness, sweetness to bitterness, and bitterness to all other flavors that followed. He rarely ate anything that wasn’t the strange, ambiguous meat prepared by Uraume, his ever-smiling mastress of rituals, but the last village you’d passed through had a surplus of fruit. It’d seemed like a waste to let all of it rot, now that there was no one left to enjoy it.

It was strange – traveling with Sukuna and Uraume. They seemed to be on a pilgrimage of sorts, the destination unknown and the purpose one of endless carnage. Not that either of them expected you to participate in the devastation. No, as far as you could tell, you were regarded more as a servant, meant to be of aid to Sukuna when Uraume was otherwise occupied. Except, Uraume never seemed to be very occupied at all, and Sukuna very rarely needed aid, and you were often left in a position more akin to that of a pet than anything else – kept around predominantly because Sukuna found it entertaining to do so. Not that you minded. Pets were cherished and coddled. Pets never went hungry. Pets weren’t expected to be anything other than endearing and obedient, which wasn’t totally dissimilar to the things you were always expected to be, regardless of what you were supposed to call yourself.

Currently, you were taking shelter in an abandoned shrine not quite dilapidated enough to be considered unlivable, Uraume tending the hearth while Sukuna stared absent-mindedly at a map pilfered from the shine’s stockroom, the colored ink nearly too faded to read. You paid little mind to either of them – content enough to remain sprawled across Sukuna’s lap, one of his arms wrapped loosely around your waist. This was the first time you’d spoken in minutes, reluctant to break the comfortable silence. Sukuna didn’t seem to mind the sound of your voice, and you didn’t want that to change. “I don’t,” he admitted, eventually. He only spoke for himself, but it was given that you and Uraume would follow. “I go where I please. I only like to know that, when I arrive, there’ll be something worth my time waiting to receive me.”

“So particular, my lord.” You felt something tap against your bottom lip, and opened your mouth to accept a perfectly sweet, perfectly ripe strawberry. “Tell me, then – what would please you?”

He seemed to think for a long moment. Finally, he asked, “What village were you born to?”

His intention went unspoken, but the implication was clear. Sukuna’s sole pastime was destruction, with the target of his ire being any person, town, or creature unfortunate enough to cross his path. Although you’d never seen him go out of his way to find prey before, you were sure willingly pointing him in the direction of vulnerable quarry would result in a predictable outcome.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know. Things like that can be so hard to remember,” you said, which wasn’t untrue. Your memory was a fickle thing – uncooperative on your best days and deliberately misleading on your worst. “You know, being a baby at the time and all.”

His fingers drummed thoughtfully against your side. “You must have family somewhere, servant.”

“Not necessarily.” You shut your eyes to stop yourself from squirming, sighing as you rested your head against his shoulder. “My parents abandoned me before I was old enough to learn their names. A scrap collector took me in some time after that, but he traveled quite often, and I lost track of him years ago.” You paused, shook your head. “Like I said, things like this can be difficult to remember. I’m sorry, my lord.”

There was a slight hum, a momentary lapse. Abruptly, you felt his hands shift to your waist, Sukuna repositioning your smaller form with all of the strength and all of the thought it might’ve taken an ordinary person to right a toppled-over doll. Your back came to rest against his chest as one of his spare hands cupped your chin, directing your attention towards the yellowed map. “Pick somewhere,” he muttered, his voice low and his lips close enough to ghost over the shell of your ear. “Anywhere. Before I pull your unhelpful little tongue out of your throat.”

“Of course, my lord.” Acquiesce came first, a real answer second. Your gaze fell to the map in front of you. It took a second, but you found what you were looking for quickly enough. “Here,” you said, pointing to an area north of your current location. “There’s a village in the eastern corner of this valley with a small population of young farmers and very little in the way of redeeming qualities. But, in the town square, there grows a cherry blossom tree tall enough to scrap against the belly of the sky with branches that stretch as far as the eye can seem. When it blooms, its petals are great enough in volume to carpet the surrounding acre in pink.” You straightened your back, decisively avoiding sinking back into his chest. “I… I wouldn’t mind visiting it again, if it would please my lord.”

It was a dangerous thing to do – showing your hand so plainly. You’d grown so used to keeping your cards tucked snuggly against your chest, even talking this openly felt as if you’d been stripped bare and put on exhibition in front of him.

But, if Sukuna realized that he was the audience to your performer, he neglected to acknowledge it. He only looked toward Uraume, who perked to attention immediately. They were good at that – pretending not to listen. Not as talented as you, of course, but good nonetheless. “We start traveling east tomorrow,” he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m adding another leg to our journey.”

His primary attention remained on them, but a few of his unblinking secondary eyes – repulsive in their lack of necessity – darted to you, watching for any signs of satisfaction, of pleasure. You only schooled your expression, retreating into your own mind to count the days until the cherry blossoms bloomed.

It took a surprising amount of time for you to catch Uraume in the act. Not overly long, but more time than you would’ve expected with them making no particular effort to hide the evidence of their ‘ritual preparation’ and you making no exceptional attempt to avoid finding out why their snow-white sleeves were so often stained red. If allowed to, you might’ve gone on living in the bliss of plausible deniability until your time with Sukuna and his chosen companionship came to an end, but he was not so kind, and there was little entertainment to be had in such a passive participant.

Still, you would’ve liked another week, another month, another season. You’d never cared for kitchens, but you cared for them least when they reeked of rotting meat.

The stench was almost worse than the sight – almost, but not quite. Then again, you were struggling to think of something worse than Uraume, all practiced tranquility and iced-over smiles, elbow-deep in the cavity a long dead middle-aged man, his body bare and spread over the stone countertop. You recognized him not by his face, but by his features – his wealth-fattened face, his uncalloused hands, the lack of definition to his legs that those who toiled could rarely afford to go without. He must’ve been the lord who owned the palace you currently found yourself residing in – a sprawling, decadent structure that it’d taken hours to clean after the massacre. Sukuna would survive wherever his whims lead, but he preferred to be comfortable. You didn’t mind. You preferred it when Sukuna was comfortable, too.

It was clear they hadn’t been expecting you, either. Their dark eyes bored into you where you lingered in the doorway, a wicker basket on your hip and your robes still dusted with soil. Most of your day had been spent in the palace gardens. Its former caretaker had planted their shiso along the garden wall, where it would only receive partial sun in the best season – a common enough mistake, for how easy it was to mistake for basil, and a tricky one to correct. An experienced caretaker should’ve known better, but as the herbs were still alive while their keeper was very much not, you could consider their negligence repaid.

You made the first move –bowing at the waist by way of greeting. “Lord Sukuna asked me to fetch his tea,” you explained, as you straightened your back. You didn’t feel the need to mention that’d he’d sought you out in your gardens to do so. “I thought I’d bring you a few herbs in the same trip. My apologies, it wasn’t my intention to disturb you.”

The corner of their lips quirked downward. It wasn’t quite a frown, but it was the closest thing to one that you’d ever earned from them. You weren’t upset. Even glowering, they would’ve been breath-taking. “He wanted you to see my—” They paid a glance toward the dismembered lord, their arm still buried in his chest. “My preparations.”

“It would seem so.”

“And he wanted to know how you’d react. There’s a good chance he’ll ask me about this, later on.”

“I’d say it’s more of a certainty.”

“I’d understand it, if you wanted to leave. I know there are few ordinary humans who can stomach tasks so—” Another pause, this one longer than the first. Clearly, they were making an attempt to watch their tongue. “—needlessly visceral.”

“If I did try, how long would you give me before telling Sukuna?” This time, they choose to hold their tongue entirely, their slight frown deepening into a full-blown scowl. It took everything you had not to let your own satisfaction shine through.

Rather, you paid them another shallow bow before the threshold and setting down your basket on the nearest length of empty counter. “It’s mostly shiso, but I found some usable ginger and garlic, too, and a few stalks of parsley. Is there anything I can do to help?”

After a moment of consideration, Uraume shook their head. It only took a few minutes to make the tea you’d been sent to fetch, but they were minutes passed in silence, undisturbed save for the quiet chime of ceramic against ceramic. They didn’t start their own work again until you’d left the kitchen entirely, which you were thankful for. They’d been right. There were few humans with stomachs so strong as to withstand such grisly tasks, and you’d never counted yourself among them.

Sukuna had claimed the master’s chambers for himself, of course. You let yourself in without knocking, immediately finding Sukuna sprawled across the wonderfully ornate futon that dominated most of the floorspace. He smiled when he saw you, but his expression fell as soon as you returned the gesture.

He didn’t mention Uraume, or the kitchens, or the thick stench of iron-tinged blood that now seemed to fill every corner of the vast estate. You hummed as you poured his tea, and remained at his bedside as he took a long drink, followed shortly by an approving nod. You tried to make your escape quickly, already fantasizing about retreating back to your secluded garden, but Sukuna caught you before you could so much as turn towards the door. “Attend to what you must,” he started, his tone simultaneously dismissive and attention-seeking. “But return here, when you’re done. Bring your belongings, too – you won’t be going back to your bedroom again.”

You didn’t falter, but not for lack of reason to. You’d chosen your bedroom carefully, surveyed the better half of the residential wing before finding quarters that suited you. It was sparse by way of comforts and furniture, but the sole window looked over the mountainside, the landscape stretching on for miles upon miles without interruption. You would’ve been pressed to think of a finer view.

“As you wish.” And then, with a chirp of a laugh, “You know, we spend so much time with one another while traveling. I thought you would’ve taken our stationary periods as an excuse to get away from Uraume and I.”

“If I had a weaker will, maybe.” He reclined, let his head lull to the side, as if inviting you to counter, to protest – or worse, to step closer. “Why? Do you have something to say, servant?”

“Only how pleased I am to be of service to my lord.” You could’ve bowed, but decided against it. This time, when you took your leave, Sukuna was kind enough not to get in your way. Then again, he didn’t have a reason to.

He must’ve known that you were always going to come back.

“Who gave you permission to leave, servant?”

No one, but you’d hoped he wouldn’t notice until you were already gone. Stifling the urge to cringe, you turned on your heel and retreated back to the riverbank, not far from where Sukuna had left his robes, deliberately keeping your eyes on the ground. He rarely let you leave his side, but having you remain within eyeshot while he bathed was a newer development – and a tricker one to justify to yourself, at that. You were still allowed to remain more of a voyeur than a participant, but you weren’t naive enough to believe that he’d allow there to be such a great distance between you for much longer.

“I’m sorry, my lord.” Your eyes may have been downcast, but your voice was a light and as upbeat as ever. “I only hoped to catch Uraume before they finished. Servants have to bathe too, you know, and those of us with no limbs to spare can be rather hesitant to do so alone so deep into the forest.”

“Join me, then.”

Ah.

You should’ve been expecting that, honestly. You had no one but yourself to blame.

“My lord,” you managed with an airy laugh, feigning disbelief. “I’m just not sure if someone of my position should—”

Considering Sukuna’s size, he could move impressively fast. You’d only managed to take half a step back before you felt a hand curling around your wrist, pulling you off of the bank and into the river. You managed to take all of two stumbling steps forward before your foot caught on a slick river stone and you fell to your knees, ice-cold water immediately soaking through your thin robes. Sukuna made no effort to catch you, laughing as you tripped over yourself. He’d always seemed terrible to you, but you couldn’t remember the sound of his voice ever being so vile.

Biting back a sigh or some other, more telling show of displeasure, you started to push yourself to your feet, but stopped as soon as you felt Sukuna’s fist curl around your collar, another finding the back of your head. In a brief moment of blissful obliviousness, you thought he meant to help you – or, to restrain you and savor your humiliation for a few seconds longer, at the very worst. You almost thanked him, as little as your gratitude meant to Sukuna.

Then, your head was forced below the water, and you thought better of it.

It happened too suddenly to brace yourself. Your first reaction, operating purely out of instinct, was to open your mouth and try to breathe in – an idea as primal as it was unhelpful. Frigid water flooded into your mouth, your throat, liberating you from any amount of air you might’ve been able to hold onto and filling the now-vacant space with a chill that seemed to bite into your throat and leave everything it touched throbbing, numb. Your second was to thrash against Sukuna’s hold – which was, predictably, equally as useless. He was stronger than you could ever hope to be, than any real human being ever should be. Thick fingers threaded themselves into your hair, the hand holding the collar of your robes falling away only to find the nape of your neck, cementing your place at his mercy.

You tried to be rational, to exhale, to not panic, but something thick and solid seemed to be lodged at the base of your throat, and you couldn’t think about breathing without choking, and it was hard not to panic when you were hyper-aware that you were going to be drowned in some godforsaken river in some heartless forest at the hands of an unlovable monster. You were running out of air too quickly – you were supposed to have more time. He couldn’t have dragged you down any longer than a minute ago, but you could already feel an acute throbbing in your temples, make out dark spots dancing in the corners of your vision. Your body thrashed and stiffened in turns, but it was only when your form went limp in his hold that Sukuna jerked you back to the surface – hauling you back to the shore and letting you collapse onto the welcoming sand. He stood by, his grin the embodiment of mirth, as you hacked up acid-tinged water and blinked back tears, sucking in shallow breaths between coughing fits. Every inhale left your chest tense and aching, though, and every exhale felt like you were giving up something precious, something irreplaceable. You did your best to ignore the strain, to put it out of your mind. You had a feeling it would be some time before you could breathe painlessly again.

It took long, agonizing minutes for you to so much as begin to recover, but Sukuna remained by your side, waiting patiently. At some point, he lowered himself to your height – falling into a crouch and bringing a hand up to your back, rubbing circles into the apex of your spine as you coughed and clawed at the shore. He didn’t hum, or speak, or apologize, but you hadn’t expected him to. To initiate would be to taint what he sought so violently: your reaction. He wouldn’t do anything to spoil his prize, not so close to victory.

No, he wouldn’t dare.

The responsibility of denying him fell solely to you.

“My—”You tried to raise your head, to look at him, only to cut yourself off – another lungful of brackish water forcing its way past your lips before you could find your voice again. “My lord,” you managed, eventually. “If you’d like to bathe together, please give me a moment to undress, first. You know how long it can take cotton to dry.”

To his credit, his composure held. There was another throaty laugh, a sudden edge to his smile. “You should be more careful, songbird. One day, I’m going to eat you alive, and your last words to me are going to how glad you are to serve your master one last meal.”

“There would be no greater honor.” You managed an unsteady smile before dropping your head low, curling into yourself, and coughing up until your throat burnt and your rib cage seemed ready to burst. Sukuna only shook his head, taking you by the shoulders and leaning you against his chest, ensuring your stability before his attention shifted to your robes. With a surprising delicacy, he undid the sash bound around your waist, shrugging off your ruined yukata and carrying you back into the water. Your nails bit into his chest, but if he felt your involuntary resistance, it wasn’t enough to deter him.

Your body was lowered gingerly into one of the river’s shallower portions, and Sukuna kneeled behind you, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek. You shut your eyes, but you could still feel his thumb tracing idly over your cheek, his chest reverberating against your back as he all but purred in delight. “I could hear your heart racing as I pushed you under.” And then, with a feather-light kiss to the top of your head, “It’s a relief to know there’s at least one part of you I can trust to be honest with me.”

You didn’t answer – only smiling as you melted into his palm.

The cherry blossom tree was larger than you’d remembered.

The village that surrounded it had grown, too. That made sense – it’d been years since you last passed through this area, and such a lovely corner of the world was bound to attract merchants and traveling warriors and those who, like yourself, simply found themselves drawn to beautiful things. You’d been able to see its wonderous branches rising above the horizon days before you were supposed to reach the village, started catching sakura petals on the breeze while you were still hours away from the nearest scrap of civilization, and a small part of you died upon being told that you would have to wait until after sunrise for your reunion, until Sukuna had finished glutting himself on blood and death and misery. Not that you listened. Uraume was tasked with looking after you, but they weren’t difficult to slip away from. They seemed to be fond of you – or, at least, surprisingly sympathetic to their master’s newest pet. Either way, they let you go without much of a struggle.

An hour or so after midnight, you made your way through fleeing crowds, maneuvering around mounds of disembodied extremities and between flame-eaten farmhouses, still in the early stages of burning down. Wherever Sukuna went, the fire seemed to follow, so you tried to stay where the light seemed the dimmest, where the smoke seemed the thinnest, focused solely on finding your way to the center of town – to the cherry blossom. You couldn’t make out its silhouette against the pitch-black landscape, but you didn’t need to. You would’ve been able to find your way to it on instinct alone.

That being said, now that you stood before it, you found it hard to believe that you’d come to the right village, let alone the right tree.

You didn’t remember your cherry blossom looking quite so… absent.

It was as if some great and wrathful deity had broken your sakura off at the base and spirited its body away, leaving only a charred stump behind. There was evidence that there had been more, at some point – pale pink petals littering the ground, a rope fence that had to have once guarded more than desecrated remains – but the cherry blossom was gone, as the village built around it would be by sunrise. It was cruel, really, when you could put your own despair aside long enough to use such tame vernacular. It was monstrous.

Speaking of monsters – yours was quick to rear his ugly head.

He’d never looked more terrible. Ash tainted the pale color of his hair, blood and gore staining his chest, his face, his hands. As always, he carried no weapon, and as always, he was entirely uninjured, untouched save for the byproduct of the devastation he’d wrought. You watched him approach in your peripheral, bracing yourself a moment before four arms wrapped around your smaller body and pulled you into a stone-hard chest. You knew better than to attempt to resist Sukuna, but this might have been the first time you were tempted to try.

“Songbird,” he muttered, the petname salt to a fresh wound. If he was surprised, let alone angry that you’d snuck away from Uraume, your disobedience caused him no strife. “I come bearing gifts.”

The upper of his two left hands uncurled, revealing a long, stick-like object. A hairpin, you realized, after a moment, the prong of a fine dark mahogany. It boasted only a single ornament: a small, expertly made glass flower. A cherry blossom, to be more specific.

You’d never been quick to anger. For as long as you could remember, in fact, you’d never found yourself angered by much of anything before.

You tasted blood before you realized you were biting your tongue; swallowing back a scream, or howl, or some other unsightly noise. It took you longer than you would’ve liked to regain your composure, but Sukuna was preoccupied, his attention dedicated solely to burying his face in the crook of your neck, to clutching onto you so tightly, you had to wonder how he’d ever managed to let go. It’d been inane to ever compare yourself to a pet, to something so cherished. It’d been inane to ever believe you were anything more than the favored plaything of a drooling, overgrown mutt.

With trembling hands, you plucked the hairpin out of his palm and held it up appraisingly. When Sukuna raised his head, his pointed teeth still lingering against your throat, you did the only thing you could think to – smiling as you leaned into him. “It’s beautiful.” And then, with a sigh, “It’s only a shame to have missed the real thing.”

“You don’t have to worry.” A hand found your jaw, holding you in place as he pressed a kiss into your temple. “I had more than my fill before you arrived.”

Ah.

For all of Sukuna’s faults, you could only be thankful that pride was among them.

As you watched the village burn in his arms, you thought only of the color of chrysanthemums and the taste of iron, heavy on your tongue.

Someone had told you, once, that all the loveliest flowers bloomed under moonlight.

You watched the sky as you waited – your eyes never leaving the sliver of it you could see through small, barred window built into the opposing wall. He’d taken you to another vacant temple, tonight, claimed the head priest’s chambers as his den, and you’d followed lovingly, never uttering so much as a word of complaint. You’d let him rest his head in your lap, raked your fingers through his hair, and brought a cask of sweet wine laced with bitter herbs to his lips whenever he threatened to stir. Eventually, his eyes eased shut, his pulse slowing and his expression dulling into something calm, something docile. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve started to doubt that he was a monster at all.

You didn’t move, didn’t shift, didn’t make a run for the door. You only reached into your sleeve, fetching the cherry blossom hairpin he’d gifted you weeks ago, now, the hairpin you carried dutifully ever since. You waited for him to turn onto his side, revealing the unarmored half of his face, before aligning the pointed tip with his ear, raising it above your head, and plunging it—

You felt his fingers dig into your thigh, another hand latching onto your hip. Your back slammed into the stiff futon with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs – leaving you breathless and paralyzed in an instant. When you recovered enough to think, you found Sukuna above you, straddling your waist, a hand planted on either side of your head. He was breathing heavily, as if excited. You knew it was impossible, but you found yourself wishing that he’d find a way to regurgitate his own lungs and choke on them.

“My lord,” you started, each word measured. You were careful to keep your voice low, your smile perfectly saccharine. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

His response was a manic smile, a bark of a laugh. “It’s too late to play innocent.” He lowered himself that much closer to you, his chest a hair’s width from making contact with yours. “How many times have you poisoned my wine, songbird?”

“Poisoned? Never.” You’d let go of your hairpin in the collision. Currently, it was lying against the wall to your right – just an inch or so out of your reach. There were other, more accessible weapons closer to you, but if you were going to kill Sukuna, you wanted it to be with that abomination. “If my lord is asking how many times I’ve treated his wine with herbs and spices, then twice. Once to see how he handled his drink, and tonight.”

You’d done him a disservice – writing him off as simply monstrous. He was more beast-like than anything, with his back arched and his talons dug into the bedding, with eyes so wide and so vibrant you believed, if only for a second, that he would manage to burn holes through your skull. “A day will come,” His anticipation was palpable. It was a wonder how such a glutton could ever sound so starved. “Where nothing will fall from you sweet lips but my praises, and I will know beyond the shadow of a doubt that you mean every last word.”

For once, you could only say what you meant. “I’d rather fucking die.”

There was a change to his animal posture, a glint of white teeth in moonlight, and then his mouth was crashing into yours – all fangs and tongue and intensity. Mindlessly, operating off of your own sort of base impulse, you reached out, your fingertips just barely brushing against the prong of your hairpin.

It was only as you curled your fist around it that you kissed him back, unable to suppress your grin.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #yandere jjk #yandere sukuna #sukuna x reader

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avocad1s · 2 months

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In The Eye Of A Hurricane

Requested By: No one. Original Work.

Includes: Dottore, Scaramouche, Arlecchino, Capitano (separately)

CW: Mentions of Characters wanting to hurt or kill you, manipulating, experimenting, the harbingers are a warning themselves, the typical golden blood for the Creator lol

Summary: You’re dropped in Teyvat and hunted down due to your likeness to the Creator. You decide run from your hunters until you run into a Fatui Harbinger camp.

Note: Trying to get back into the gist of writing and i love the harbingers so enjoy this for now :)

INAZUMA + SCARAMOUCHE

- Inazuma was a dangerous place to be hunted. Once the Shogun laid eyes on you the real archon, Ei, left the plane of euthymia and tried to attack you. However the lighting fast swing of her sword seemed to only graze your shoulder, her foot fell into a conveniently placed hole that threw her off balance.

- You took the chance to run away, not without Kujou Sara quickly chasing after yelling at her soldiers to ‘seize the imposter’

- You managed to escape, somehow. You didn’t want to question the absurd amount of luck. Once you were finally able to settle against the bottom of a large cliff, the wound on your shoulder began to sting.

- You let out a wince, pulling back the cloth to assess the damage.

- … How curious… your shoulder seemed to be leaking …gold? You shake your head quickly, you couldn’t focus on that right now. You were sure Ei would search behind every rock to find you.

- And you weren’t exactly sure what her intentions would be once she had you.

- However you had no time to relax before you were surrounded by multiple people, their faces obscured with masks. They all wore coats and gloves despite the weather

- “How dare you stumble upon our camp? There’s a lord harbinger here you know.”

- They seemed almost boastful by that statement until they noticed the blood spilling out of your shoulder.

- The color drained from their faces. “…I it can’t be… right? Surely this isn’t…”

- The group immediately fell to your feet spilling out apology after apology for speaking out of term. You could only look down at them with wide eyes, feeling a wave of awkwardness as they treat you like a deity.

- “You’re incessant blabbering is hurting my ears. Keep it down.”

- Another young man appears behind the kneeling group. Despite his stature, you could tell he was insanely powerful. His eyebrows were creased as he stares down at them, he then looks up to meet your gaze, then your wounds before his face softened.

- “Lord Harbinger! I-It’s…!”

- “Your Grace, it’s you.” Scaramouche finished. “You’re hurt. Who did this to you?”

- He begins to approach you, but when you take a step back he putting his hands up as a sign of peace.

- “It was Ei… she striked me and then the Tenryou Commission chased me all the way here.”

- The Balladeer lets out an amused laugh, “foolish Beelzebul… can’t even see the truth when it’s right in front of you…”

- You decide not to reply to his chiding remark, it didn’t seem like he was talking to you.

- Scaramouche turns his head to look back at his subordinates a cold glare in his eyes. “What do you think you’re doing? Can’t you see Their Grace is injured? Go get the medical supplies.” He barked.

- The group gets up and immediately scatters, running off to the tents a few meters away with the signature Fatui insignia embroidered in the side.

- The puppet looks back at you, “You can follow me Your Grace. You can stay in my tent for the time being and I can tell you just how unfaithful the Shogun has been.”

SUMERU + DOTTORE (experimenting & blood)

- For once in his decades of living, Dottore would admit he was a fool.

-The akademiya declared you as an imposter to Their Grace and he knew he had to get his hands on you. Someone stole the face of the Creator? How interesting… he wanted to peer beneath the surface himself to see how it was possible.

- He had noticed you the second you haphazardly stepped into his camp. Subduing you was the easy part, but once he had dragged you into his tent telling his subordinates not to bother him, he began to hesitate.

-He look down at you on his table, looking blissfully unaware he couldn’t even pick up the scalpel.

- What? No! He would killed Kusanali if he had to, what made you so different?

- He curses at himself before grabbing the scalpel pressing it into your forearm. Once blood pours out of the cut he immediately pulls back the sharp object.

- So you were the true creator. Dottore’s eyes were fixated on the small trail of gold blood spilling down your skin. He touches it with his gloved hand inspecting it closely.

- It was just as the scriptures said, blood as gold as the sun with a shimmery look to it.

- The Doctor begins to stitch you back up, picking you up bridal style placing you on a nearby soft surface.

- He sits down next to you, even while sleeping, you look absolutely ethereal. Like Her Majesty the Tsaritsa had said.

- With you in his grasp he could accomplish anything, using you as a bargaining chip to obtain the gnosis would be all too easy

- Perhaps if you believe he was your only faithful acolyte, you would bless him with the knowledge of the stars or even the deepest secrets of Celestia.

- All he had to do was be patient and he was a very patient man.

FONTAINE + ARLECCHINO

- The House Of the Hearth is usually shrouded by darkness. No one knows what happens inside and anyone who wants to escape don’t make it out alive (allegedly).

- Even though children weren’t used to having visitors, Father always tells them how to treat their guests.

- So when Father returned to the house holding you in her arms, your body soaked with your own golden blood. The children immediately sprang into action.

- Her face was unreadable as they quickly began to grab all the medical supplies they had bringing it to The Knave.

- With a steady hand, she fixes you up until you were stable.

- While she was in the room, her hand grasping yours. The children left to buy many gifts they believed you might like.

- The House was good at obtaining and withholding secrets, and Arlecchino will do everything in her power to make sure no one knew of your presence in the house, in Fontaine, or even in all of Teyvat.

- She wanted you all to herself, she wasn’t even afraid of admit it. She will be as sweet as honey, drawing you in closer and closer until you were stuck in her trap.

- Although she would never hurt you! Ever since she was a child and went by a different name she was sure having you would make everything better.

- Arlecchino’s fingers brush your face, her nails dragging down your cheekbone. Even being this close to you now, made her heart race.

- When the children come rushing back in, she immediately shushes them. She wouldn’t allow them to disturb your sleep, but you would soon wake up to healed wounds and as many sweet treats you could handle.

NATLAN + CAPITANO

- It is… unclear what Capitano’s intent is in Natlan. Did he just want to battle the Pyro Archon? Prove that even a human like himself could strike down a God? Or maybe he just wanted the Gnosis. Maybe even both.

- Natlan was considered the nation of war and once you were considered an imposter, your fate was undoubtedly sealed.

- It was like a nationwide bounty hunt, everyone was after your head and no matter where you hid, no where was safe for long.

- Until you ran into a broad chest knocking you down to the ground. You look up with wide eyes.

- You could tell this man was powerful. Way more powerful than anyone else you had ran into (and ran away from). His face was obscured but his long dark hair went down to his shoulders.

- At first he watches you closely, not saying a word then he kneels down to get a closer look at you.

- You squeeze your eyes shut. This was it, this is the end.

- “Your Grace…?”

- You open your eyes, “w—what…?”

- “Are you alright?”

- You were confused, why wasn’t he attacking you?

- He seemed to notice your confusion. “Youre bleeding your Grace. Did someone attack you?” he gestured to the cut on your cheek.

- You didn’t even notice the cut, your adrenaline had been at an all time high that you hadn’t felt any pain.

- You touch the cut, feeling the wetness on your fingers. You lift it up noticing that your finger was coated in gold.

- “I uh… i don’t know…” you say your eyes fixated on the anomaly.

- He left out a huff, sounds slightly disappointed you didn’t know. “I can protect you.” he says. “I won’t allow anyone to harm you.”

- He holds out one of his large hands and hesitantly, you take it.

- Capitano was extremely gentle with you as he helps you up leading you to his camp. It was like having your own personal knight, you were sure that if anyone came looking to take your head, he would handle it.

- Capitano wouldn’t show it in front of you, but he was livid. Seeing you hurt, knowing that he couldn’t protect you while the two of you were in the same nation sickens him.

- He keeps his anger on the inside, not wanting to scare you as he brings you into his personal tent. For now, he’ll stay with you making sure you’re alright and that all your needs are tended to.

- His righteous nature couldn’t let this go unanswered, he would make sure the Pyro Archon pays for her sins.

Note: So I am officially back with writing! Trial by Combat will be out soon!

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #self aware genshin

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sunderwight · 6 months

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It's so good when Shen Qingqiu takes care of Luo Binghe. In canon and also in fics. I especially am in love with when he does his hair or helps him dress, it's just so pleasantly domestic. Also endearing whenever SQQ gets a bit fanboy-ish about it, because that's Luo Binghe and SQQ can dress him up in every cool or sexy outfit he has a face thick enough to pay someone to actually make!

I wonder if he ever shares this wisdom with Shang Qinghua. Like at some bitching session or other SQH is sighing a bit about how MBJ always wears like the same three outfits, and don't get him wrong they're all great outfits, but he noticed Luo Binghe flaunting yet another fresh look the other day and part of him really wants to see Mobei Jun in something different...

And then Shen Qingqiu is just like, you're the Lord of An Ding Peak, you handle the basic wardrobe necessities for an entire sect? Go pay someone to make cool/sexy outfits and literally put them on Mobei Jun yourself! You're married to the guy, aren't you?

Shang Qinghua is like "wait you can do that? I can do that? that's a thing that's allowed?" and Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes and calls him a dumbass and points out that Airplane himself wrote about the intimacy of Luo Binghe's harem members dressing him and it being an even bigger deal for demons than humans, and Shang Qinghua cannot for the life of him remember this but it does sound sort of familiar. So off he goes to nervously sketch out some ideas for outfits, and then get told off by the seamstress he tries to commission for not having realistic ideas about how fabric works. But he does have Mobei Jun's measurements and after some discussion he gets a bunch of stuff that looks even better than his initial ideas, eventually, and then he just has to... give them to his king...

Shang Qinghua awkwardly presenting the topic to Mobei Jun like he's expecting to get a hard "no", but he blinks and his king is naked and standing expectantly in front of his fancy full-length mirror. Shang Qinghua has only ever helped Mobei Jun get dressed when he was injured in the past, and then usually only just putting his arms through some sleeves on an outer robe. They've undressed each other for sex, but putting the clothes on really is a different kind of intimacy. Especially an outfit that Shang Qinghua had specially made to suit Mobei Jun, to highlight the features he likes best about him. Striking blue and icy-white, with hints of An Ding's colors as accents, showing off his build to full effect, etc etc. Shang Qinghua layers each piece on and then does Mobei Jun's hair too, muttering quiet approval for how the look comes together while Mobei Jun preens under all the attention.

Of course, afterwards Mobei wants Shang Qinghua to dress him every day, which isn't always logistically feasible, and MBJ also intends to return the gesture.

Luo Binghe dresses Shen Qingqiu too of course, but Luo Binghe is aware both that other guys want his husband and also that Shen Qingqiu will refuse to go out in public if Binghe dresses him in anything revealing, even if he still lets him put it on, plus Luo Binghe was raised with human sensibilities about modesty. So all in all any "sexy" outfits are reserved for private time at home, and what he puts Shen Qingqiu in for daily wear is all stuff that is perfectly befitting a Qing Jing Peak Lord and scholar.

Mobei Jun doesn't have human modesty sensibilities and also doesn't see any reason why Qinghua shouldn't show off his own best assets while he's going about his day, so, Shang Qinghua is about to rue the hell out of a lot fashion-related world-building decisions he made a lifetime ago...

#svsss #moshang #bingqiu #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain

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tteokdoroki · 9 months

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VOICEMAILS AND DIAL TONES - yuuta okkotsu.

✩ — about. “back then, you didn’t have words to describe the way that he made you feel. maybe, you were a little too young to understand.” there are rules to a friendship that’s lasted as long as yours and yuuta’s has. the first being that you tell each other everything. the second, try not to fall in love. all you know, is that you’ve failed at both, and now your best friend is half way across the world without any idea as to how much you truly love him. is that something you can say over text or voicemail? ( 8.7K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, with a happy ending - video banner! characters are in their 20s. coffee-shop!au, childhood friends to lovers, forbidden romance, long-distance, misunderstandings, miscommunication, situationships, arguments, hospitalisation mentions, death mentions (non-major characters), cucking, somnophilia, praise, fingering (f!receiving), oral sex (f!receiving), phone sex-ish, clothed sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampies, fem!reader.

✩ — things to note. hi everyone!! jumping on the yuuta hype and dropping this fic i wrote as a commission last year!! it's so interesting to see how much my writing has changed, but i remember having fun when writng this. either who!! i hope you all enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

absence makes the heart grow fonder — at least that’s what they tell you so that the feeling of missing someone hurts a tiny little bit less.

you’ve always wondered if that were true. if willingly putting space between yourself and the person you loved truly helped soothe the soreness as if it were medication for the body’s aches and pains. perhaps the theory could best be applied to your friendship with yuuta okkotsu.

he’s been your best friend for as long as you can remember — from the moment he moved in next door, his bambi eyes were big and brown, safe and inviting…who were you to keep hiding behind your mothers leg and deny him an invitation to play on the swing set his parents had put up for him in the garden just over the fence? yuuta was the sweetest boy to date, he was always polite with your parents and asked their permission before taking you into the depths of his cardboard fort in the front yard.

he would walk home with you from pre-k, your chubby little fingers tightly intertwined and the matching charms on your backpacks swinging about the place jingling with every step you took towards home. when you got to middle school and kids were meaner, yuuta stood by your side while you were teased for being quieter than most. he defended you, his shy, patient best friend.

okkotsu still walked you home, his pinky finger hooked over yours — greeted your mother with that same shy, yet charming tight lipped smile and offered to help her with cooking dinner with that same airy voice of his. your mother would reward you both with a kiss to the forehead and a plate of warm walnut and chocolate chip cookies and your pinkies — still linked underneath the table.

you were always linked. it’s always been yuuta and you. back then, you didn’t have words to describe the way that he made you feel. maybe, you were a little too young to understand the butterflies in your tummy and the blistering temperature to the back of your neck and your ears — maybe too naive to understand a metaphorical doctor’s diagnosis of a case of early on-set puppy-love. knowing back then would’ve explained why you wrote yuuta’s name on a heart alongside your own or why you squirmed every time you touched.

there was only one explanation. you liked yuuta, loved him.

you wished that you’d known what that feeling was…because it's soon ripped from your grip and your whole world changes when rika orimoto enters your lives. she was pretty, had a beauty mark smeared daintily across her cheek and gentle eyes that made you feel safe. she was pretty and yuuta thought that too — inside and out. that’s why they became fast highschool sweethearts and why you were left in the dust.

rika easily made a mess of him, tearing yuuta into a million tiny pieces that only she could put back together. she asks him out on white-day, okkotsu a bumbling mess by the lockers in between gym class and economics as he clutches her neatly written love letter — hearts over the I’s and T’s crossed ever so cutely. she had done to yuuta what he’d been doing to you all of your lives and you’d hardly seen her talk to him around school until that day.

much to your dismay, they date throughout the rest of highschool and it nearly kills you, having someone that you were once so close to fade-away into near nothingness with growing distance. life where yuuta has a girlfriend ( that isn’t you ) drains the happiness that you got from being around your childhood best friend. it’s selfish, you know, to have wanted to keep him all to yourself. to have him want you instead of her.

they make plans for after school, babies with names that start with the same letters as theirs and a wedding that’ll be small and flowery and whatever rika wants because yuuta okkotsu would give the girl he loves the entire world. you so badly want to be her. that person who is the centre of his universe. it should be you, it should have always been you — making plans with yuuta and imagining the perfect ring, the one that he would give you in the front yard of his childhood home. it should be your life with him, one that you’d dreamt up with him…and the sick thing is, you can’t have him — because you’re best friends and you’d be risking it all in the name of childish love.

rika, dies just days shy of your highschool graduation and it changes your best friend. a tragic car accident violently takes her life and okkotsu along with it. he’s a shell of the person he used to be, void of his dazzling smile and the comforting warmth that was unavoidable if you spent even just a minute with him. yuuta used to be like sun rays on a sunday morning but after the incident, he felt like blizzards on a dark november's eve. he lost his love, and you were starting to lose him even more than before.

his first love is memorialised at the graduation ceremony and while everyone sends her their thoughts and prayers — you feel sick to your stomach, knowing that for a brief second you’d felt relieved that your competition was gone. loving him was forbidden, he’d just lost his person and so despite your guilt you had to stick it out. be there for him. be there for your friend above all else and hold him up so that he didn’t sink in the deep water of his own grief. you’d save him, at all costs, you’d stop him before he drowned.

things start to look up when the pair of you head to college — you both get into the same school and find the cutest little off-campus apartment to share. it feels like a home away from home to you both, since your nights before semester begins are spent attempting to master your mother’s famous cookies while practising how to introduce yourselves since you’re both nervous as hell for this new beginning. everything feels like it was when you were both children and didn’t have a single thing to worry about — except now there’s crippling student debt and a four year workload ahead of you…but you’re both excited, together again and it seems like the distance between you has shrunk just a little.

then your love life takes a turn for the worst ( yet again ) and yuuta finds himself running around town with a new crew of friends that he met in a club run by one of your elective professors, satoru gojo. they stay out later than you’re used to and your best friend comes home smelling different too, of strong perfumes and cigarette butts even though you know he doesn’t smoke. as it turns out, there’s another girl.

maki zenin.

you don’t like her, and to be fair, she doesn’t like you either. so you keep your distance once more, keep your head down when maki does her faux walk of shame out of your best friend’s room — her thighs and her neck covered in bite marks and scratches, his shirt slipped over her body to cover the rest of her decency. he made her breakfast with your food and tea in your designated mug. it hurts to hear her mewl the sweet syllables of his name late at night while you’re stuck with the soundtrack to your own sobs.

it should be like this, distant — far apart because you care about okkotsu and you love him, so it’d be better to avoid it all rather than get him hurt.

your phone ringing in the distance gently lulls you from your reminiscent thoughts and you scramble to pick it up before you end up with a missed call.

yuuta’s contact flashes across your screen, framed by light and making him look like an angel. it rings and rings, and you know that you should let it go to voicemail. let the space between you grow so you can protect what’s left of his soul.

but you were never strong when it came to him.

and you pick up before he can listen to another second of dial tones.

voicemail #1 - “hey yuuta, i hope you’re good, you’ll never guess who stopped by the cafe today— professor satoru! i haven’t seen him since your graduation! anyways, are you still coming over for dinner tonight? i miss you!”

this isn’t like him.

even after all these years, from pre-k to college — yuuta okkotsu has never missed one of your calls. after graduating you'd made a promise to one another, to keep contact no matter where life took you, a promise of his own volition. you’d have dinner with each other at least once a week just like when you were kids and catch up on your not-so crazy adventures into adulthood.

you kept up your end of the bargain as your way of keeping okkotsu afloat — to ground him. he’d seen and been through enough hurt to last him a lifetime and if he had to use you as a crutch for comfort, despite your raging feelings for him, then so be it. so you never missed a call, always checked in and made him something nostalgic and tied to the memories of afternoons where your mother would fill you up with her wondrous baked goods or heartwarming soups.

but still, this isn’t like yuuta to not pick up when you call.

to feel…more distant than usual and of his own accord.

panic sets in while you listen to the third dial tone, trying to contact him again. taking a deep breath, you pace around the fridge-freezer in the back of your bakery — one that you’d set up shortly after graduating from your business degree. there had to be some explanation for your best friend’s absence. perhaps traffic? maybe he was on the subway catching a ride over? or maybe he just needed space. he’d been going through a lot recently. yuuta didn’t get a job straight out of college and he broke things off with maki shortly after — they wanted different things and had different aspirations.

even still, with the free time left on his hands, there was too much room for him to think about his losses and his loves…it made you worry for him, it made you panic and chew on your nails just like this. “c’mon yu,” you whisper to yourself, the shaky syllables of your words bouncing off the metal house for your ingredients, muffled by paper bags of powdered sugar and organic flours. “where are you?”

you can barely hear the automated message telling you to leave a voicemail for your friend over the bustling of your afternoon service. if yuuta hadn’t been off the grid, he’d be here helping you with the customers that know him all too well, the old ladies that pinch his cheeks and the younger ones that twirl their hair in an attempt to flirt over miniature cherry bakewell tarts. except he’s nowhere to be found, and you’re nauseous, worried sick about where he could be and what he could be up to.

you try his cell one more time in an attempt to grab at his attention. there's something weird about today...as if he’s avoiding you, hiding. yuuta always picks up and you always pick up for him, it’s an unspoken rule.

when you’re met with the dial tones again, you hang up — slumped and distraught. there’s hungry customers to feed and you’re overly friendly college professor waiting on a fresh box of sweets you’d used as an excuse to escape to the back of your shop. yuuta can wait for another call from you.

but you’re not sure if your heart can wait for one back from him.

voicemail #2 - “it’s yuuta, we need to talk.”

oddly enough, silence is comforting to you. it reminds you of your best friend, the nights you’d spend coupled up in your dorm with your fingers running through his silken midnight hair, his head in your lap and the both of you shrouded in darkness. more often than not, you could tell how one another’s days went just by body language and when shoulders were slumped and eyes were droopy — yourself and yuuta would curl up together and just…take in the quiet.

be close to one another.

so, you bask in the tranquillity of your quaint little cafe as you clear up after a day's work. you sweep floors, wipe tables clean and arrange the tables and chairs with perfect precision. the only sound that accompanies you is the clink of silverware and porcelain plates as you wash the dishes. it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop and the slightest noise is enough to make you jump — just like your phone that vibrates deep within your back pocket, startling you as you scramble to dry your hands so you can see if it’s him who’s been trying to get in touch with you.

it’s embarrassing how quick you are to smile when you see a few missed calls and a voice message from yuuta. though you’ve never quite heard the tune of seriousness that plays in his voice before, your heart won’t stop racing at the mere sound of him speaking. your mind wonders…what could be so urgent that he’d need a ‘talk’?’

maybe it was a thank you…for always being beside him or maybe he even liked you. perhaps okkotsu had finally come to his senses and realised how much he’d always needed you…how much he loved you.. the racing thoughts in your brain hopefully jump towards a confession from your best friend and you find yourself getting giddy at its prospect. you practically skip, hop and jump to the back of your cafe, switching out your flour stained clothes for one of the spare and cleaner shirts you keep in the back — you touch up your makeup too, brighten the dark circles under your eyes and blot your worry lines with care.

you even manage to heat up a few of yuuta’s favourite pastries to serve up by candlelight — rehearsing your own words of confession as if they haven’t been looming around in your head for years.

the bell to your quaint little cafe chimes with his arrival, a rush of cool, late night air tangling with the temperate atmosphere as you lay your finishing touches on the meal you’d prepared for you both. when you look up, yuuta’s eyes have settled on you — warm and inviting as usual, but bright with a light that had been missing from them since you were young. you’ve missed it, the subtle spark that brings life to the coffee brown oasis in his eyes.

he remains as handsome as ever, taller than you by however many heads — limbs long, arms slightly muscular and waist slender, though his build is more like a dancer’s. yuuta okkotsu grew up to be a fine man and you’d be a fool to have not noticed. he crosses the room in short strides, rushing to take you into his arms and hold you close and squeeze you to his chest. yuuta smells like cookies, you note, hardly paying attention while his lips softly brush over your hairline in a sweet kiss.

“hi,” he whispers, voice smooth like melted chocolate dripping through your ears. “i’ve missed you.”

you only hope that he can’t hear your racing heartbeat, it’s speed picking up as you decide that this is your moment. the moment. “i’ve missed you too,” you mumble back, toying with a loose string on the cream cashmere the dark brunette is wearing. “yuuta…i have to tell you something—“

“i-i have something important to tell you,” he breathes out at the same time as you do, almost shy as you both sway in the centre of the room and enjoy one another’s embrace.

the both of you share a laugh that’s light and airy before you drag him over to a table and set of chairs, forcing him to sit and to eat the baked goods you’d set out for him. “you first, yuu,” it makes you happy to see him tuck in, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “you owe me a story after disappearing on me today.”

okkotsu nods in agreement, his cheeks adorably full of food and pastry flaked across his milky skin. “‘m sorry, i was sortin’ something out la’sht minute.”

“yeah?”

“y-yeah! i’m moving,” yuuta drops the bomb like it’s nothing. “abroad. for a job! professor gojo set me up and it’s s-supposed to help build my confidence and stuff—“

your world falls apart in an instant, sucking away the oxygen in your lungs until you feel like your lungs are failing. yuuta is leaving you and this time it’s for real.

confessing to him now wouldn't mean shit, you’d only be holding him back. your face crumples faster than you can control at the thought and after years of knowing you— okkotsu instantly picks up your change in mood.

“what’s wrong?” he says your name and even that hurts to hear.

“n-nothin’ yuu, i’m happy for you, really.” comes your broken voice over the quiet, you fake it until you make it.

“really? you don’t look like it.”

running a hand over your tired face, you force a smile. “really. especially if you think this is what’s best for you.”

“it is!” yuuta nearly snaps, controlling himself— stopping himself from yelling at you and tearing your friendship apart before he’s gone. “i need this, need’a be my own person. after college, after highschool i didn’t have time for any of that! i need this.”

needs it more than he needs you.

“okay.” you say simply, blankly.

“okay.” he says back.

the debate doesn’t last that much longer after that — the room fills with silence as you grieve your faltering friendship. whatever confession you had planned, now forgotten.

voicemail #3 - “yuuta! i wasn’t sure how long your flight was but please call me when you land! you’re gonna do great at your new job.”

yuuta doesn’t call after he lands, in fact two entire days pass before you actually hear from him. after the argument, you’d try to stay on good terms as though not to lose him for good — helping him pack and sort out his currencies, buying him language books since you knew he would struggle with the new dialect.

you figure it’s because he’s unpacking and not because he doesn’t want anything to do with you — and while you make some late night tea, you find that it’s better to imagine him alone in a new foreign country, picture his pretty pink lips struggling to form the vowels of the new language too, envision how he’ll tan under the blistering hot heat and how excited he’ll be to try new things.

its humiliating how easily he can preoccupy your thoughts from thousands of miles away and makes your heart race so fast that it might burst through the bones and flesh of your chest. he occupies your every thought like a fungus crawling across your brain that’s only disrupted by the sound of your phone ringing loudly — making you drop your tea and jump up to answer.

“hey,” the way yuuta says your name sends tingles down your spine — filtering out any pain you feel from burning your hand. he looks good too, dark hair flopping over his eyes, voice gravelly with sleep as if he’s just woken up and you’re the first thing on his mind. “i got your message, s-sorry for not calling i’ve been—“

you cut him off, eager to speak and draw the call out for as long as possible because you missed him. “busy? a guy like you must be extremely popular on the other side of the world.” you’re chipper in an attempt to cover how flustered you are and to cheer your best friend up when you notice how nervous he looks.

“not exactly… i’m nervous. e-everything seems so big ‘nd scary without you here…”

without you.

you shake your head over the grainy FaceTime call. “you’ve always done fine without me, you’ll do even better without having to cover for my shyness!” he laughs at that, the sound like a sweet song to soothe your aching heart. “you got this yuuta.”

your best friend gives you a sleepy smile, one that melts you like a knob of butter on a hot stove and has your knees knocking. “you’re the best, you know that? you always know what to say.”

the static crackles between you and your heart leaps into your throat.

“i’m always here for you, yuuta.”

“and i’m glad for that,” he yawns. “i love you.”

you have to remind yourself that what your best friend says is strictly platonic but you almost selfishly repeat the words back to yuuta until you notice he’s fallen back asleep.

ending the call, you clutch your phone and burned hand to your chest.

“i love you too.”

voicemail #4 - “hey sorry i missed your call, time zones can be crazy! work has been catching up with me and, well, i made a new friend!”

for the first week, you and yuuta text everyday while he’s away. you do your duty and act as his crutch like you always have— keeping him company while he works, eats and commutes all on his own. you feel bad that you lap up the attention he gives you over the phone through his loneliness. you could be compared to a desperately hungry stray animal at the way you drink up every little interaction you have. giving pieces of yourself away to keep your best friend happy.

but as time goes on, okkotsu seems less and less worried about his job — easily slipping into the language here and there, no longer relying on you to stand on his own two feet. the frequency of your communication dwindles to the point where you really feel like you’re oceans apart.

even yuuta notices the change within himself — the confidence that filters through him when he says yes to the pretty girl who works in the cubicle next to him when she asks him to tag along for drinks with the rest of the office one night which soon becomes a regular thing. he knows that he speaks less with you and that your texts are barely there but he’s sure you won’t mind the distance. you’re a busy girl, you run a cafe, a few days of not talking wouldn’t do any harm.

“oooh, she’s pretty. who is that?”

kasumi miwa is the one to pull yuuta out from the fog of his thoughts. the brunette looks up from his phone, your face flashing across it’s lock screen as the background. a photo where you have your arms wrapped around him from behind and your smile is as bright as the sunshine. miwa is a pretty girl, different from you. her voice is smoother and eloquent where yours is charming and sweet — she doesn’t remind him of home, or smell like the warmth of a chocolate chip cookie…but she is pretty. her presence is enough to make him shy.

he’s caught her looking a few times, her touch lingering whenever miwa passed him paperwork and right now; her cheeks are tinged pink probably from the alcohol the office is drinking inside where yuuta had come out for some fresh air.

okkotsu clicks his phone shut and stands up at full height to face his blue-haired coworker. “i… i haven’t spoken to her in a while. i miss her.” he says wistfully as he gives your name

“well, if i were dating a girl that pretty, i would miss them too.”

“o-oh! we’re not together! she’s my best friend!”

the woman beside yuuta cocks her head, a satisfied grin spreading across the slope of her lips. “you should call her — i’ll be waiting inside.”

he follows her eyes as she walks off, along with the whiff of her chanel perfume, before his gaze lands on his phone — he calls your phone.

you answer after the second ring, though don’t speak straight away, letting the silence wear the both of you thin. “how’ve you been?” you say quietly, lacking the chipperness to your tone that you usually have whenever the two of you ring each other up. there’s no hello, no warmth, you’re cold.

but yuuta doesn’t ask — he’d like to think he knows you well enough not to. he thinks that you’re fine, probably tired from work and it’s late over there too. if he cared to catch up with you, he’d have been more considerate of that.

“good!” the brunette chirps in order to keep the mood light, leaning over a nearby railing. i miss you. yuuta wants to add, but the words feel like cotton in his mouth, sticking unpleasantly to every surface and for some reason they don’t feel right to say— feel foreign. “work’s been good. i think i’m getting the hang of things around here. my co-workers are great, i get this amazing view every morning a-and—“

“and?”

“i met someone! i think! i wanna get to know her more but she’s been great to me so far…you’d like her!”

hearts don’t make a sound when they break, but if they did— you’re sure that yuuta would have been able to hear yours even from halfway across the globe. over his own ramblings he can hardly make out the shatter of your vital organ as it falls to pieces, cracks into tiny shards with jagged edges that could make you bleed if you tried to put it back together…because your best friend having met someone means he’s moving on. leaving you behind. and he’s too tone deaf to notice.

through the static of a phone call, okkotsu misses the crumple of your face and the way your throat bobs as you swallow back salty tears and two decades worth of unrequited love. you’re devastated and he can’t even tell, barely noticing the way you rush off the phone while he’s halfway through a sentence.

his brows furrow when he realises you’ve hung up.

“i take it that didn’t go well?” kasumi questions when yuuta re-renters the bar, her face sympathetic but voice elevated with smugness.

he shakes his head once. “no, but it’s okay. she’s been busy.”

he excuses you but kasumi doesn’t let up, pushing for more of yuuta — breaking him out from his shell, stealing and keeping the pearl of his heart for her taking. “don’t be too sad yuuta, you have me and your new friends, we’ll keep you company instead.”

there’s a hidden meaning behind her cherry picked words. she’ll keep him company — and for once, yuuta doesn’t feel guilty for trying to break away from you.

voicemail #5 - “what happened between us yuuta? you used to tell me everything and now you’ve got a girlfriend? i didn’t even find out through you!”

there’s an unspoken rule to a friendship that’s lasted as long as yours and yuuta’s – you’re supposed to tell each other everything. there’s not been a secret between you in all the years you’ve known each other except for minor white lies that couldn’t amount to major forms of harm. he might have told you that your hair looked fine on days where you’d barely any time to tend to it and you might have told him that he hadn’t been awkward presenting in front of your entire college class… but those were worthless lies. strings of words tied together that didn’t mean anything, that didn’t have any intent to harm.

there were no secrets, no major ones.

until now.

“he’s got a girlfriend, yanno…”

the news is shared with you casually from over the counter one day by your irritating white-haired ex-professor who makes a habit of annoying his old students. he comes in for sweets often and the daifuku you make is his favourite – you offer him extra in exchange for updates on the classmates you used to share since he’s nosey like that.

with every visit to your little cafe, gojo filled you in on everything yuuta had been up to in the blurred weeks and months since you’d last spoken – including his relationship status. “she’s pretty too, long hair. s’blue which is an odd colour, but she’s been good to him, ‘pparently. boosted his confidence.”’ the man cocks his head, watching in real-time as your movements in packing up his order slow down.

your throat bobs whilst you swallow your fading pride in front of your teacher, forcing down a wave of tears. it doesn’t matter how many times yuuta gets over you, moves on from you, finds someone to love other than you… it still hurts. it’ll always hurt knowing that he can fill the other half of his heart with someone that isn't you, while your own stays void and empty.

as always, satoru gojo sees right through your resolve as you total up his order – again forgoing charging him extra for the little tid bit of gossip he’d given you. there’s a shell of someone he doesn’t recognise in place of the girl he used to teach – the one who was once full of life and eager to learn, get out into the world and achieve your dreams. yuuta okkotsu had chipped away at you, the years you’d spent protecting his feelings had caused you to drown in your own.

and gojo could see that, he knew that. he’d been through it before.

he only wishes he had better words of comfort for you.

“you love him, don’t you?” he asks you quietly as you ring him up but you answer with his total in yen instead – sniffling as you do. professor gojo takes his brown paper bag, full of enough sugar to make the heart stop – to kill a person, but even that’s a better death than the heartache you’re going through now. you sniff and he offers you a sad smile that doesn’t quite reach the sapphire eyes behind his shades. “better yet, don’t answer that. i don’t need anymore tears in my daifuku.”

voicemail #6 - “oh fuck yuuji, right there…” “here baby? oh you’re so cute, fuck ‘m gonna—!” “oh… yuuji!”

( incoming voicemail from - yuuta: “hey, call me back? who’s yuuji? are you okay?” )

yuuta knows that he shouldn’t have kept listening – he should have deleted the voicemail as soon as he caught onto what was happening. it didn’t take a genius to know what was going on, the sounds of skin slapping on skin, your voice wavering with the tune of lust even over the static crackle of the voicemail you’d left.

he wishes that he’d never heard you moan out like that for someone else, that he wasn’t picturing the faces you’d make underneath the body of another man…but he couldn’t help it. the more he listened, the angrier he felt, the more betrayal flooded his veins and clouded his usually clear judgement. the brunette had no right to be this mad at you, he was supposed to be happy with miwa, supposed to be letting you move on just like he had done from you.

and yet, like a necrotizing parasite – jealousy feasts at the back of okkotsu’s mind. it disrupts his work, distracts him from his girlfriend and fills his mind with flashing images of you being fucked five ways by another man. one that isn’t him. yuuji. who even is yuuji? how did you meet him? were you dating him? you hadn’t talked in so long so the guy had barely come up in conversation. you were best friends that used to tell each other everything and now he felt like you were fucking someone new behind his back. yuuta knew nothing of what that stranger meant to you, he had no idea that yuuji itadori was just some college boy you’d brought home one drunken night – to act as a salve for the burns your childhood best friend had left on you.

it's a temporary fix, yuuji’s tongue laps at your wounds – pleasures you with teeth and tongue until your head is light and you’re almost too dizzy to think properly. in the moment, he felt good, he took care of you…but he wasn’t who you wanted. he wasn’t yuuta.

was it bad that you basked in the jealous rage and attention the brunette had bathed you in? drowning you in a barrage of text messages the morning after you’d slept with itadori, when yuuta finally had the chance to listen to the voicemail you’d left by accident. it was the most you’d gotten out of him in the months you’d been separated.

yuuta - 7:16AM: hey…did you mean to send that? call me when you’re up.

yuuta - 7:45AM: i don’t think i was supposed to hear that…

yuuta - 8:34AM: who’s yuuji?

yuuta - 8:36AM: are you seeing someone? call me please.

yuuta - 8:57AM: pick up the phone.

yuuta - 9:21AM: it’s not funny anymore. i’m worried. pick up.

you answer your phone around noon, having given yourself the space to think over cooking a hang-over breakfast for yuuji. the sounds of spitting oil underneath frying eggs had provided the soundtrack to your thoughts – helped you pick and choose the words you would say to yuuta before your companion slips out of your apartment and you tell him to grab a pastry from your cafe downstairs on his way out. a little thank you for the night you’d shared.

“what the hell was that?” is the first thing yuuta snarls down the line once your call connects.

you shift your phone in your grasp, as if his seething tone has scorched the palm of your hand. “are we past greetings or somethin’, yuu?” you fail to admit that it hurts you, starting the call without his tender and caring ‘hello’, you feel like an enemy on the battlefield to okkotsu, rather than his friend.

“i think we are well past that, especially with the kind of voice messages you’ve been leaving me.” he says it like he’s disgusted with you, when he really just misses you. craves you. he’s angry at himself and for letting you slip between his fingers into the grasp of another man. not at you. never at you. but even cell phone lines connecting calls from across the globe can’t properly convey the way yuuta feels. “what’s going on with you? why are you acting like this? we haven’t spoken in weeks and you–?”

“why is what i do any of your business anymore, yuuta?” you snap through his flurry of questions, growing heated yourself. “i accidentally left you a voicemail of me fucking someone, that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me.”

“you’re just… not like this. we don’t speak and all of a sudden…y-you’re different!”

you clutch the phone tighter, swallowing thickly. “and who’s fault is that? let me answer that for you. it’s yours. you’re the one who got a girlfriend and left me in the dust. not the other way around!” you argue, trying to sound stern and steady though yuuta can hear the wobble to your words loud and clear. “you shouldn’t have listened, you should have called. you let the distance become a problem between us.”

he scoffs, an action so unlike your best friend. “we’re not children anymore! you should have talked to me about the distance!”

“i couldn't!” you defend yourself, desperate for the pain in your heart to be heard for once. “you were finally happy again yuuta! that mattered to me—“

“you think i'm happy about hearing my best friend get…defiled over the phone?”

“well you should be! it means I’m not hung up on you anymore, that i’m moving on from being in love with you! leaving you so that you can be happy in your new life!”

the silence from yuuta’s end of the phone is both too loud and too deafening.

“you…loved me?” he whispers, switching back to that same sweet tone he always used when it came to you. “why didn’t you say?”

your stupid little confession, the one you’d been holding back for more than half your life, sips out before you can catch it with the tip of your tongue and you instantly feel terrible for weaponizing your crush on okkotsu against him. at least that’s what it feels like you’ve done. “i never told you…because i’m not selfish, yuuta,” you stutter out, your face hot with oncoming and flustered tears. “i-i'm not a selfish person. i wouldn’t sacrifice our friendship or your happiness, not just because i loved you.”

yuuta says your name, but blood rushes through your ears in embarrassment – way too fast for you to catch it, and you hang up before you can humiliate yourself any further.

before you can hear him say that he loves you too.

voicemail #7 - “open up, i'm coming home. please be here when I’m home.”

the number you have dialled is unavailable, please try again later.

after the slip of your tongue and confession to yuuta— he was met with radio silence. you’d blocked him on every form of social media possible and he couldn’t even blame you. you wanted to be free from him, from that silly and imaginary red string that had kept you tied to his soul for all of these years. it hurt to think when everything reminded you of him, so you buried yourself in your cafe and worked yourself to death because even the sweet relief from life would be better than living without your best friend.

gojo had stopped by and taken you to the hospital twice since you’d worked yourself into exhaustion — tonight was no different, sentenced to bed rest by your ex-professor and the best doctor he could find. he always did look out for his students.

sleeping your sadness away had caused you to miss a barrage of yuuta’s calls — if you’d picked up you’d have known that he was coming home. coming home for you. in the wake of your love confession, okkotsu had realised how much he needed you and how much he loved you. you had never left his side, no matter what yuuta had been through, and now, nothing feels right without you.

so he broke up with his girlfriend, took leave from his job and flew halfway across the world for you — to give his message in person.

it’s near midnight by the time yuuta gets back to japan, the warm yellow of the streetlights illuminating the path right up to your apartment after getting out of the uber. there’s a spare house key, glinting gold, hidden under your cupcake shaped doormat just as yuuta remembers and he uses it to slip inside — dumping his bag and kicking his shoes off at the entryway. his socked feet locate the bedroom with ease, perhaps drawn by your aura and the anticipation of seeing you again.

and there you are, so close yet so far away — your face peaceful and painted with an adorable expression of slumber. okkotsu notes the way your chest slowly rises and falls, the crease between your brow as if you’re having a bad dream. he could fix it… whatever’s plaguing your sleeping mind, he knows that he can, because whenever you touch each other, it’s like your bodies know to relax and that they’re safe.

tiptoeing deeper into the room, the brunette slinks up to the side of your bed and the mattress dips underneath the weight of his knee as he seats himself beside you. you’re so beautiful, so calm. he doesn’t know how he went his whole life without choosing you, choosing other people over you time and time again. “i love you,” yuuta whispers into the dead of the night, brushing a thumb and forefinger over the apple of your cheek — hesitating when you roll into his body heat. “i love you. i’m so sorry.” he says again, while pressing a feather light kiss to that same spot.

his breath hitches when you reach for him this time, grabbing at the man in your sleep.

yuuta kisses you again, but on your forehead. then your other cheek, your chin, your inner wrists and finally — your lips. each brush of his own against you is increasingly feverish, pouring unspoken emotions into them as he quietly utters the words ‘i love you.’ over and over again. he feels like he has something to prove, as if the brunette has to show you how much he cares for you — leaving a trail of sweet smooches between the valley of your breasts from over your night-shirt to between your thighs that spill out of the loose material.

he only hopes that this is enough for you to forgive him, for you to love him back like he does you.

your best friend… or ex best friend really should feel bad about this, teething on the swell of your thighs— his fingertips sinking into their apex to pry you apart for him. you could end up hating him more for this, yuuta’s slick and drool stained tongue rolling over the seam at the crotch of your panties hungrily, softly as if to test the waters. he takes it as a good sign when your face contorts with pleasure even in your sleep and slots his entire mouth against the sweet treasure between your legs— sucking the juices from the fabric of your underwear.

you taste so good and he’s not even got you properly wet yet. yuuta’s next move is to hook two fingers over the garment to pull it aside — revealing your twitching hot cunt to the cool night air in your bedroom. even your scent is divine, enticing just as you’ve always been and the brunette can’t believe he was too blind to see it before. he presses a chase kiss to your clit, feeling it pulse to life against his lips before said kisses become open mouthed and sloppy— tongue diving into the tightness of your little hole, circling it to flick your flavour back into his mouth.

his movements start slow, tenderly testing which spots inside your pretty little cunt make you sigh out contently while you slumber but the wetter you get, the sloppier yuuta becomes — lapping at your sex and your clit in eager movements like a kitten at a bowl of milk. you only stir awake when his fingers travel up to grip onto your ass and tug your pussy onto his face, guiding you up and down on his writhing tongue like he’s fucking you for real.

“y-yuu?” you grumble, still finding your footing in the reality of consciousness. “whas’ h-happenin’… oh my god—!” the questions you have for the mop of hair between your legs, groaning like a starved man into there too, taper into an angelic moan. pretty and airy, like music to yuuta’s ears. once you come to and fully realise what’s going on, your fingers slip into the roots of his hair and your hips buck into his mouth instinctively — even though you should be pissed. even though you should be screaming at him and kicking him off. you can’t help it that this is what you’ve always wanted. that you’ve always wanted him.

“w-what are you doing here?” you manage to ask through a whine, brain fogging up at the way yuuta’s tongue runs laps over your swelling clit.

he pulls off of you with a lewd pop that makes both of you shudder, two of his slender digits easily sliding into you where his tongue once was — guided by spit and slick. “i came home for you. i love you,” your best friend doesn’t have time to formulate proper reasoning, drunk on your saccharine flavour like you’re the finest wine he’s ever had the honour of tasting. “f-fuck, i-i missed you.”

yuuta gives you those big puppy dog eyes as he curls his digits inside of you and hits spots you can't quite reach on your own. you should be talking about your feelings not fucking through them but you’ve missed him so much and need him so bad. both of you groan in unison when he brushes over your g-spot, your hips jumping up and his grinding down into your silky sheets.

“missed you too,” you breathe and yank him up by the hair to meet your lips — making out with him feverishly, swapping the words your mind can’t seem to force you to say, pouring the mixed emotions into him as he finger fucks your tight little hole like his life depends on it.

every movement you make with one another is sloppy and uncoordinated, tongues doused in one another’s saliva— saliva that tastes like you. your moans mingle in the hot and heavy air and you clench down on yuuta’s fingers as they pump in and out of you, his palm slapping against your folds while you leak into the seat of his palm.

“are you close?” yuuta slurs into your mouth so quietly you almost miss it underneath the lewd sound of your pussy. “i want to make you cum, show you how much i love you.”

blood rushes through your ears, heat pin pricking like needles under your skin. “y-yes. p-please yuu…”

his thumb dragging smooth circles over the pulsating bud between your blooming pussy lips is all you need to trip over the edge into your high— the knots in your lower tummy unwinding faster than you can register, waves of your nectar flowing from your cunt onto the sheets below and soiling yuuta’s hand right up to his wrist.

your head tips back into a high pitched squeal, eyes locked away and rolling back while you damn near black out from your orgasm. but your best friend is right there like he should be, sucking love-bites into your neck to ground you. dark tresses of yuuta’s chocolate-like hair tickle at your tingling flesh while he manoeuvres himself between your legs and shifts his pants down enough to let his rock hard cock spring free.

“c-can you take me now?” he pleads more than he asks, brown and warm eyes trembling with need, anticipation. “i don’t think i’ll last long and i need you.”

you feel him press at your entrance, his angry red tip glistening with opaque beads of precum— yuuta softly ruts his hips against you, smearing…claiming you with his own essence while he waits for your consent. “i’ve always needed you, yuuta.” you say breathlessly, giving him a small grin and nod when he looks up from drooling against your neck.

that’s all the go ahead he needs before his thick girth pushes all the way into you at once — weighty and temperate against your ribbed and creamy walls. “‘ohmyfuckinggod,” he whimpers wetly against you. “y-you’re so tight wrapped around me. so perfect i—“

“move, yuuta. fuck me, please,” you remind him, tugging on his air and crossing your ankles at the base of his spine.

“y-yeah okay…g-god you’re so good. so sweet ‘n tight.” with that, he draws his hips back — hesitant at first. brown eyes watch your face for any signs of discomfort and yuuta’s lust driven instincts take the lead when he only notices how blissed out you look. your pretty lips are agasp, forming a pleasure-filled ‘o’ as you mewl and claw at his half-clothed shoulders. “i love you, o-oh god!”

all you can do is whimper in response, fingers drifting up to the nape of yuuta’s neck to tangle in his dark locks— tugging him into you as if it’ll make him hit deeper, churn up your guts and make you see stars. “y-you’re stupid…” you manage to get out, the warmth of your breath glossing his lips as if to taunt your best friend with a kiss.

“i know…” calloused fingers grab at the backs of your thighs with a bruising grip before yuuta pushes your legs towards your shoulders, both of you grunting and whining in unison when you tighten around him at the new angle. gushing sweet juices that paint his stomach and pelvis.

“y-you shouldn’t have left me,” tears start to brim, collecting in your lash line like diamonds before they hit your cheeks.

you’re so beautiful like this, even when you’re crying— when you’re crying because you’re fucked up on his cock, claiming it with your cream as ur clings to his balls and the veins that spital down his length.

yuuta’s red hot tip nudges against the soft and squishy spots along your sensitive walls, keeping his thrusts at a rhythmic and passionate pace to make sure the only thing you feel is heaven on earth. your pussy is hot and warm and heaven-like around him, sucking him in so selfishly and tightening every time yuuta’s strong abs grind against your puffy clit.

“i know,” he sighs dreamily and with an airy voice, licking a stripe from your chin to your cheek as a tear streaks it’s way down it. “won't ever leave you again,” his fingers touch at your face, sinking into the softness of your cheeks as he drags you up to face him. “i’ll never leave you again.”

“never?” you ask, hiccuping.

“never.” he moans.

you see it there, the love glittering amongst the almond flecks in your childhood best friend’s eyes — he means it, he promises it and you can feel it with every roll of yuuta’s hips into you while he pins you to the bed. he makes love to you and says what he needs to through his actions this time. through your tangled mess of sweaty limbs and fluttering lashes you find okkotsu’s hand, linking them together.

the sight of your hands meeting one another brings emotions bubbling to the surface of your skin, hot to yuuta’s touch — it's a symbol that you’ve finally come together after being worlds apart for so long. “you’re finally mine, ‘m never letting you go,” his warm breath coasts across the seam of your lips before he dips into kiss you— tongue gliding over yours as it pushes into the depths of your mouth just as his cock does, brushing up against your g-spot and just kissing your cervix. “you’re always going to be mine.”

“i-i’m yours,” your eyes roll back and yuuta loses his pace, his entire body twitching the closer you both get. sex taints the air, both in sound and scent, your cunt squelching around him with how wet you are and how much he leaks into you. “g-gonna cum, yuu! make me cum, make me fucking cum.” you slur out, anchoring the man down to you with your arms around his neck until yuuta’s forehead is pressed against yours. sweaty locks of his hair and all.

yuuta’s body collapses against you and his thrusts switch to sensual grinds that never let up on your spongey g-spot. “f-fuck me, b-baby. ‘m cummin’,” he croons, panting against your lips and with one, two, three more pumps you’re squirting all over him— the pressure unwinds in your lower belly and you’re hit with blinding white lights and your nails dig into yuuta’s shoulder to the point where you leave bright red crescent moons. “that’s it baby, cum for me, make a mess for me. show me you love me— fuck!”

you’re still trembling with the aftershocks with your orgasm when the brunette follows suit — the warmth of his seed floods your quivering cunt, painting your folds an opaque white before yuuta pulls out. the last droplets of his cum hit your soft tummy accompanied by his high pitched whine and then he crumples against you, exhausted from the height of it all.

“i love you so much,” yuuta hums against your skin, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “it’s always been you.”

“i love you,” you affirm, knowing that no matter what distance is put between you and your best friend (now lover) — you’ll always find your way back to each other.

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billythesimp · 2 months

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Butler's Abode

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡...⋙

tagging: none

tw: none

It’s not often that Lycaon decides to take time off and go home. Most of the time, he’s working on commissions his master’s demand of him or training with the other houseworkers to ensure their success. But in order to make sure everything goes to plan, the boss himself needs time to rest and re-energize for his next jobs. And with that, he sets off home to his significant other, sending a quick voice message entailing his arrival in hopes that they’ll be quick to respond. It hadn’t been long since he’s come home, that being said his tail twitches and sways from behind at the thought of being in his beloved's arms.

⋈ Lycaon lives in a decent home, despite the amount of money he makes with his job and how well he is paid by his employers, he enjoys the simpler things and reminds honest with his taste. Besides, no one would notice that the gentlemanly wolf thiren next door was a skilled butler working with high-end companies. Wandering up the steps, his tail wagged as he could hear a faint noise of someone home, clutching the bouquet of flowers he bought for his love. Compared to those of the flowers in his own garden, these one’s bloom brightly in ways that he could only describe of a similar light of that of his lover.

⋈ Entering his home, he is happy to notice just how clean and well kept the entry it. Shoes neatly placed in their holders while a set of prosthetic legs and covers are set up in the mud-room for his own personal use. After all, these legs are for work mainly, he needs to feel comfortable in his own home you know. His ears perk up when a set of footsteps come around the corner, a head of hair and a curious face peeks out before breaking into a heartwarming smile, one that makes his tail thump and his heart skip a beat.

▿

“Von, you’re home! I didn’t think you’d come back so suddenly. I barely had time to finish making dinner yet.”

They approach him as he stands by the door, taking in their figure before leaning down to give them a kiss. It’s gentle and warm, hands on his cheek as they lean up to reach his face. The flowers trapped between them both as they smiled in this heartwarming reunion. “I thought you would have liked me to come home sooner rather than later, I missed you dearly. Hopefully you weren’t too lonely.”

Handing over the bouquet, they only shake their heads before assisting them to the mud room, giving him privacy to change out of his work attire into something more comfortable and fitting for home. His clothes may seem seamless and tidy yet- to the trained eye- you could see some areas of wear and tear that he would have to mend after a good wash. “I wasn’t that lonely, besides you always made sure to text me every night and morning so how could I be lonely.”

Walking away to put the flowers into a vase, Von soon followed as he entered their living and dining room, sighing in relief as everything was still in order at home. He enjoys his home to be clean and set to his liking, seeing his partner follow his wishes truly makes him grateful to be the companion of such a thoughtful person. He could smell the delicate scent of homemade dinner, almost drooling at the thought of eating something that wasn’t made by Rina. However his attempt to enter the kitchen is met with some resistance as his beloved stands before him, arms crossed with a knowing look. “Von…”

“I only wish to see what you’re making, dear. Is that such a crime?” With a subtle smirk, they only shake his head before watching him travel around the kitchen island as if looking for something other than food. “Not when you are clearly looking for something to do, or rather tend to. Come on Von, remember our promise.”

His arm is tugged at as he looks down, the sight of a pouting face making him chuckle. “Can I at least set up the table?” With a giggle, he takes them into his arms playfully as they could only agree with his request.

“Fine, since you asked so nicely.” He couldn’t be happier to assist.

⋈ Usually when Von is home, his partner makes him promise that his time at home would be spent relaxing and being pampered. There are times where they compromise, especially on bigger tasks like laundry or dishes, but other than that he gets to sit back and admire his beloved from a distance. Other times, they make plans to go out for some light shopping, usually for groceries or to buy some new stuff for their home. Any reason to go out with his beloved is one he’ll take, wanting to spend as much time with them before he would leave again for Victoria Household.

⋈ He listens to their story of home and their own personal agenda, sharing details about his own jobs and the people he’s hired on. Even though they text and call almost everyday, he can’t help but take in the sight of their expressions and how they move with every word they speak. Admiring his love is one of his favorite pastimes, it is moments like these that he really gets to know them well. Like how they smile when they make eye contact, how they raise their brows when trying to be serious, tucking their hair out of their face when they slow down their speech out of nervous tendencies. Or how their cheeks softly redden when he stares too hard.

⋈ After dinner and a quick shower, he’s right back to their side like a loyal dog, holding them in his arms while resting his head on theirs. Whether it’s cleaning up dishes or folding whatever sheets they had washes to prepare for his arrival, he stays by their side and waits patiently for their attention. He even helps out here and there, distracting his lover with whatever they were rambling about before they could notice that everything had been put away and neatly done. Should they catch him, he’d refuse to acknowledge his aid and brush it off as a ghost. But he’s only joking, really.

⋈ He loves the way they always want to tend to his needs before their own. Making sure his legs are comfortable in his prosthetics, tending any old wound that might be bothering him or getting him whatever he needed at the moment. But this is something that comes sparingly, as he doesn’t want to burden his beloved with, finding time later to do whatever he needs in his own time so he can focus on them and only them.

⋈ By the end of the night, they are cuddling in bed while his head nuzzled up to their chest, ears flicking as delicate fingers run through his hair and comb back his fur. Scratches behind the ears and caresses on his cheeks as they whisper sweet praises that only lull him further into their figure. Hands on their hips as he clings to them for comfort as he can’t imagine a world where he is alone in a bed for two, no one to love or be loved by. No, he will keep them here with him, safe where he can see them. Where he can feel them and know that they’ll always be waiting for him here.

▿

After a night of slumber, Von still finds himself waking up earlier than most due to his usual work routine before taking a moment to slow down and register where he is. He could only stare at the sleeping being beside him, admiring how their chest rises with every soft breath, lips parted gently with hair covering parts of their face. Yet they looked so peaceful, entranced with how beautiful one person can really be.

His clawed hand gently fixing their hair to see the rest of their face. Leaning down to place trails of small kisses on their face, finishing with a deep kiss on their lips. How they follow his touch before he escapes them, groans of disapproval are heard before they stretch and start coming to. “Morning love. Sleep well?” He looms over them as they open their eyes to be greeted with a holy sight. They only hum before petting at his bare chest, still half asleep as attempts to pull him closer for more. Yearning for his touch but Von didn’t mind, giving in easily before parting once more to comb back their hair and look on them with his loving gaze.

“Did you want some coffee? I can brew some up right now.”

“But Von… I’m supposed to take care of you for a change. Hmmp-” They are silenced with another long kiss, one that leaves them breathless as they sit up and finally make eye contact with the handsome wolf. “Yes but right now, I believe it’s my duty to tend to you now, so please-”

“Let me be of service to you, dear.~”

#zonelist #zenless zone zero #zzz #headcanons #von lycaon #von lycaon x reader #gn!reader #scenarios #domestic fluff

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push-and-scream · 5 months

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Like a good girl

Tw birth, r4pe, ftm birth, misgendering

This is a commission from @donotpush who did an amazing job! I love this fic so much

Dad knew better. Always, Dad knew better. Since he was a little kid it was his strong hands guiding his way, picking him up from the floor when he fell, always having the right words. So Dad must be right now, too.

At first, he thought his dad was just overreacting when he told him about his transition. That dad would get over it because, after all, he loved her.

But now, as Dad pounded into him. He wasn't that sure about it. It was a punishment, Dad said. Because she didn't want to behave like she had to.

Aiden feels his dad's hands gripping his hips, pressing his body against the mattress to keep him still. The tip of dad's dick is pressing against his pussy, teasing up and down and rubbing at his clit. A small whimper escaped Aiden's lips when his dad slid inside his throbbing entrance.

Beneath him, Aiden squirmed at the sensation. The older man started to pound into him, one of his hands on his hip to keep him still and the other busy moving to lift his leg and prop it upwards, holding it in the air as he fucked him.

“Fuck…” Aiden whimpered.

His father's hand traveled to his chest, gripping harshly at his breasts as he continued to pound. A loud moan escaped his mouth at the sensation of his nipples being pinched and trapped between his fingers.

The sensation of having someone playing with his tits and feeling so good while someone fucked his pussy made him think that maybe Dad was right, that he was made to be a girl after all.

“I'm gonna… teach you…” his dad's voice whispered in his ear, and the words ended up lost in the air between Aiden’s moans. “I'm gonna teach you how to be a good girl. A good girl…”

Aiden's dad pulled out of his pussy, and slipped the condom off his erect dick with a quick movement. It should have worried Aiden, but his mind was drowned in a fog of pleasure that it was the last thing he couldn’t think about right now.

It's his dad's hands that turn him around, throwing his body around like it's nothing. He wasn’t such a strong man like his dad, he knew it, and that's why when he said that Aiden deserved to be punished, he found no way to fight against it.

Dad's hand traveled up to his neck, sliding his hand in his newly freshly cut hair before he pressed his face against the pillow. Then, he used both hands to lift his hips slightly up before he started pounding inside of him again, hitting that spot and sending a wave of electricity over Aiden’s body.

Aiden felt his legs like jelly as his dad finished inside of him, the warmth of his seed filling his pussy.

“That’s it…” his dad breathed heavily behind him. “Like a good girl.”

***

When he stopped having his period, he thought that maybe it was the result of the testosterone. Even when he knew that it was way too early for that kind of effect. When he started to put some weight on, when his body became softer, he thought that maybe this was normal.

Lately, he had been eating a bit more, so it made sense that his thighs were fatter and that his tummy was a bit bigger. But then his boobs grew and became more sensitive, and his nipples changed, and his stomach just kept on growing. His whole body was sensitive, a single touch, a single brush over his nipples would send him crazy, his clitoris was almost burning at every touch, at every sensation.

The moment he felt something moving inside of him, squirming and stretching against the skin of his stomach, he couldn't deny it anymore. His dad's punishment wasn't over, and he would have nine more months to think about what he chose to do.

He was pregnant. There was no way to deny it anymore. His dad promised a sibling, and his dad fulfilled his promise.

He tried to hide it as best as he could. Winter came, and oversized hoodies and loose clothes made wonders. But as it came, it went, and suddenly Aiden found himself too hot, too bothered to be fully covered with sweaters.

He couldn't stand watching himself in the mirror for too long. His body was doing what Dad said it should be doing: being the prime example of womanhood. He was so gravid, so swollen and filled with life. Fuckin’ pregnant.

He turned to his side and observed his profile: his chest was huge and swollen and sensitive, no longer being able to hide behind his binders, resting on top of his rounded-out stomach.

Inside of him, his baby rested not so peacefully. His sibling was a big baby, and his huge and tender stomach contrasted with his slender frame. He could feel the baby resting low on his hips, the weight of the head almost opening him up, like a bowling ball. It was a constant reminder of his punishment.

All of the extra weight wasn't the worst part. The worst of it was that a lot of his little progress was erased; under his clothes, his body started to look quite feminine. He hated it.

His dad was quite proud. There was a sly smirk on his face when Aiden wasn't able to hide his growing stomach anymore, and he always remarked how she was doing what she was supposed to do, carrying his baby so well.

Even if he may have been able to hide it pretty well with loose clothes, the way he started to waddle, to always have a hand on his back, to be careful with almost everything because his body had just become a complicated thing to move around being so gravid.

His hips widened to adapt to the baby, so feminine now, his breasts grew like a pretty girl. And his pussy was always wet. He was always horny and hungry for dick to fill him up. Like a good girl.

Get knocked up. Carry a baby. Be a mommy. Be a good girl. Over the months, as he became more and more pregnant, those kinds of ideas were all he could think about sometimes. To be a good girl. Even now, in the last months of his pregnancy, most of the time all he could think about was about being a good girl and letting someone –anyone— fucking his pretty pussy and having his engorged tits in their mouth.

Aiden stared at the forming puddle beneath his feet. One of his hands gripped tightly at the base of his contracting belly and the other one rested on his lower back.

He woke up early in the morning to painful contractions, after a night of little rest. He labored all morning, and all afternoon, and as he finished doing chores, his water broke.

They didn’t talk about it, but between his dad and him, they decided to have a home birth. His dad said something along the lines of every woman’s body knows exactly what to do when the moment comes.

“Fuck…” Aiden moaned, gripping the kitchen counter and swinging his hips in the air.

Beneath him, his gravid stomach hung low and distended, contracting. Inside of him, his sibling kicked relentlessly.

“Fuck…you're so big” he mumbled, all of his attention focused on the feeling of his baby resting on his hips, low and heavy. Like a bowling ball, the head of his child rested on his pelvis, almost threatening to fall out of him with every movement.

Aiden groaned, falling to a squat as another contraction took over him.

“God…!” He whimpered, “Come on…!”

The first three months, he barely showed. In Aiden’s mind, it meant that he was lucky, that he was gonna have a small baby and, shit, maybe he could even ignore it. But as soon as he went past the three-month mark, his stomach just swelled. By the moment he was seven months or so, he looked pregnant with twins.

If anyone looked at him, they would never guess that he wasn’t pregnant with twins, just with a huge baby.

He could feel it when he walked. How as each month passed everything just became harder and harder with the enormous baby in his womb, from tying his shoes to bending over to pick stuff from the floor.

But, incredibly contradictory, his body seemed to just naturally adjust to it. His dad said that it was meant to be, he was such a good girl for carrying his baby so well.

He wasn’t sure about that, but his own body seemed to agree with his dad. Everything seemed that he was meant to be a mother, to carry big babies like a good girl.

And like any good girl, the more pregnant and full and big he got, the hungrier he was for having strong hands around his body and a big dick filling him up. It was almost a craving, to have someone spread his pussy lips and fuck him good.

In the end, he just couldn’t help getting wet every time he saw his naked body in the mirror. His stomach was huge and gravid, his tender breasts resting on top of the mound of flesh. His hips, now wide and made for what they meant to do: bring a baby to this world. Like a good girl.

Another contraction took him away from his thoughts. His hand moved between his legs, feeling the sensation of his swollen and wet pussy lips parting as he slid a finger inside of himself to check his progress.

“Ughn… mhm…” he groaned, rocking his hips in the air at the feeling of fucking himself. “Fuck…mhm…”

The head was almost there. He could feel it making its way down his pelvis and getting closer to spread him open. The thought made him shiver.

As he waddled around the living room, pacing with both hands cupping his stomach, another painful contraction took him almost by surprise. He still wasn't used to the sudden explosions of pain that made his body shake with each contraction. Aiden gripped with a hand the couch, and with the other, he rubbed circles on the tense skin of his stomach.

Aiden let out a loud moan when he felt the baby descending in his pelvis.

“Oh, you're so low,” Aiden groaned. “Ugh….mhm…”

The contraction passed, and he panted and started to walk again. It was only as he walked around that he realized how low the baby actually was now. It felt as if at every step the baby could just pop out of him, the weight sitting uncomfortably on his birth canal.

He had been able to ignore the almost invisible need to push that was there, but now, the need was becoming an urge and with every moment, it was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

“So low…” Aiden whimpered, pressing his forehead to the couch back as he rocked his hips in the air.

Besides all the discomfort, besides the feeling of the head right behind his swollen lips and threatening to split him open, it sort of felt right. His body was doing what it was meant to be, after all. His body was meant to be fertile and gravid, his womb always full, like the slut he always knew he was.

“Aghnn…!” Aiden whined, coming down to a squat as another contraction hit him. “Fuck. I’m so close. It’s coming…!”

His stomach tensed and it felt like a hundred needles on his back when the contraction reached its peak. He bit his lips, and beneath him, his knees trembled as the baby descended even lower.

As he stood up with difficulty, another contraction took over him. His lips parted and Aiden let out a long, loud groan as his legs forced themselves apart: the head of the baby made its way lower and suddenly, it was right there, right behind his lips. With a hand, he reached to feel his swollen lips. Brushing over his sensitive clit, he felt the head beginning to crown.

“Oh, ughn…” he moaned, standing with his legs apart to give the head all the space it needed. “Fuck! Ughn!”

Another contraction and Aiden squatted again. His body instinctively pushed, and the head slipped a bit out. With every passing second, with every unconscious push that his body gave.

“Ahh…ugh…” Aiden moaned as he slowly propped himself up. “Mhnmg…shit…”

He waddled around the couch, walking comically due to the head crowning between his legs. One of his hands was on his tense stomach and the other was down between his legs, feeling the bulge of the head on his swollen pussy. As soon as he was in the middle of the living room, he squatted down again, his legs wide open.

His chin pressed to his chest as Aiden pushed with the next contraction.

“Ugh…!” He whimpered, eyes closed and face turning red. “Fuck! Come on…I can feel you. Nhgn!”

The head slipped past his lips a bit more. Then, his eyes widened at the sensation: it was big. So big. Bigger than he thought.

He screamed as another contraction took over him. Things were going fast, and he thought he should be happy with it, but the head was so big that it felt as if it were to split him open.

“Oh God, oh God…mhgn!” He moaned, pushing again. “It's so big! Nhgn! I need to push so bad…”.

His hand was cupping his pussy, preventing the head from coming too fast. It was unbearable to have it stretching him open like that, barely bulging out of his pussy lips, but at the same time, it felt good. Like his father said, a woman's purpose was to bring life. And that was exactly what his body was doing right now.

“C'mon, baby! Ah-nnn!” He grunted, his face scrunching up in effort as he pushed again. “Please…. f…fuck! Ughn!”

The head slid further out of him. If his dad were here, he would be cooing at him and telling him what a good girl he was, pushing so good, listening to what his body was made to do and letting it do it.

“Please, come on…” he pleaded, cupping the baby’s head, now really close to fully crowning in his hand. “Nhn…you’re so big!”

A yelp escaped his lips when the head finally popped out of him, his knees trembling as he used both hands to support the head. It was huge, fucking huge as a gush of amniotic fluid came out of his tortured lips.

“Ah-hn!” he whimpered, feeling the head stretching out his lips. “Come on, baby…! Ahh-hn!”

Another push. His lips spread even more around the head, and with the next push, it popped out of him completely with a gush of amniotic fluid that stained the carpet beneath him.

“Oh–ah…okay…” he grunted, his chest trembling at the next contraction. “Now… the shoulders…”

He pushed. One of the shoulders popped out of him almost effortlessly. In his hands, the baby was huge, and he could feel it. His hole was burning with each push, with each contraction that rushed through his womb.

“Nhgn….!” gritting his teeth, he pushed. The other shoulder came out.

He let out a yelp at the burning sensation of the shoulder, huge, stretching him out. If he were a real man, then his body wouldn’t just be able to take it. But he wasn’t, he thought as he panted through the next contraction. Maybe his dad was right and he wasn't. He was meant for this. to be a pretty girl and to birth babies.

“Come on baby…” he panted, looking down at his swollen stomach. “Just… nhgn… you’re almost there. Pleas- ah-ghn!”

He pushed, not able to stand the feeling of his pussy being spread so much. Nothing happened. Aiden shifted in his place, his legs were burning from being squatting. Both shoulders were stretching him out mercilessly, stuck on his poor pusy.

“Ughnn…!” he grunted, pressing his chin to his chest as another contraction rippled through him. “Agh! F…fuck!”

Fuck. Nothing happened. A sense of dread and panic rushed through him. God, he needed to change positions. Aiden let himself fall on his back, propping both legs up and holding his thighs back.

“Mhgn…shit! Please, please come on…!” another whimper escaped his mouth when the next contraction came.

He pushed, and the shoulders still didn’t budget. “S…shit! You’re st…stuck. Nhgn!”

His pussy was burning and his body was urging him to push, it was screaming at him to push the baby out, but even when he used all of his might, the shoulders didn’t seem to budge. Another contraction hit him, and he could only whimper.

With a low moan, Aiden rolled and crawled over as he could, getting on all fours. Under him, his tender breasts fell free and his swollen stomach swung with every movement as Aiden rocked back and forth.

“Ohhh…hgn…” he moaned, rocking his hips in the air, “..please!”

Another contraction rippled through his stomach and his arms trembled as he bore down with another push. This time, the shoulder moved slowly a bit. Just a bit, enough to stretch his hole out even more.

“Ahhghnnn! Fuck…!” He whimpered, trembling at the sensation “Mhgn! Nhgn!”

He whimpered. His body trembled as he screamed at the feeling of the shoulders, huge and broad and stuck, opening and stretching his hole. They were stuck.

“F…fuck! Nhgn…!” He gritted his teeth as he pushed.

The shoulders moved a bit more.

“Please…nhgn…baby!” He moaned, sweat dripping down his face. “Ahgn…f…fuck!”

Aiden crawled back to a squat. His pussy was throbbing, begging for relief as his legs trembled beneath him, and another contraction took over his body. He reached his hands behind him and pressed against his lower back. The muscles tensed, his back arching, his pussy burning as the shoulders refused to move.

“Ughnn! Fuck!” he panted, breathing heavily as he squirmed in place. “Shi- hgnn!”

A contraction hit him and he let out a strangled cry, his eyes squeezed shut tight. He pushed again, his fingers pressing hard into the skin of his thighs as he leaned his weight forward.

“Ohhhh nhg…!” He cried out in pain, tears running down his cheeks. He panted heavily, his breathing shaky, and he rocked forward.

This time, when he pushed, the shoulders finally came out of him with a gush.

“Ow! Ah-hn…!” he panted, catching the baby's body.

Aiden gently held the small naked bundle in his hands, staring at the crying baby in his hands and catching his breath. He did it, he thought. He did what his body was meant for, what he was supposed to do, like the good girl he was.

#ftm birth #birth kink #giving birth #labor kink #birth #mpreg #mpreg birth #unwantedbirth

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bucketsofmonsters · 4 months

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The Morning After

(A Sequel to Ace in the Hole)

A commission from the lovely @spoczkot :)

Cw: miscommunication, insecurity, gambling, oral sex, vaginal sex, tentacles, double penetration, sensory deprivation

male shadow monster x afab reader

Some beautiful art of our lovely shadow monster

Word count: 5k

Most days, you woke up suddenly, to an alarm or a nagging feeling that there was something you needed to do.

You absolutely hated it. The sudden shift from sleep to the waking world. It always left you feeling anxious and restless.

The best way to wake up in the morning was the was you were waking up now. Slowly, barely able to tell where your dreams ended and where the light, silky blankets began. You drifted slowly, softly, back into consciousness, and finally, when you were good and ready, you opened your eyes.

All you could see was black.

You blinked, confused and disoriented, half convinced you’d just forgotten to open your eyes.

When the darkness persisted, a spike of panic ran through you.

You wanted to reel backwards but you didn’t know where you were or what was blocking out your vision.

You felt a warm presence at your side and pulled away from it, sending yourself tumbling off the edge of the unfamiliar bed.

The bed. You could see it now, sprawled across the floor, tangled up in a blanket you’d ungraciously taken with you in your panicked frenzy.

A low voice grumbled from the bed, you presumed disturbed by the newfound lack of blankets and the sound of someone falling to the floor beside him.

You managed a sheepish smile as you gathered your bearings, the events of the night before surfacing in your mind.

You were here, with Nocturne.

A pitch-black face peeked over the edge of the bed as he rose from sleep more gracefully than you had.

“You having fun down there?” he asked, his morning voice a little gravelly.

You nodded, pushing his blankets back onto the bed as you clambered to your feet.

“Didn’t take you for that much of a clutz,” he said, a teasing lilt ever-present in his voice.

You smiled, sliding back under the covers. “I’m not really, I just don’t usually wake up blind. I feel like that’s excusable.”

He was so hard to read, his void of a presence difficult to gather coherent facial expressions from if you didn’t know what you were looking for, but you saw him tense for a moment before turning to the clock at his bedside.

“Fuck, I’m late.”

He rose from the bed in a hurry, haphazardly grabbing clothes from his closet and throwing them on, you all but forgotten in his bed.

You took the hint, rising beside him to grab your own things, admittedly in less of a hurry to leave than he seemed to be.

He paused, shifting to look over his shoulder to look at you as you gathered your things, pulling your clothes on quickly.

He shook his head. “No, you don’t have to leave. You can stay as long as you want.”

You knew he didn’t mean it, that he didn’t actually want you in his apartment on your own, but you appreciated the sentiment nonetheless, that he was at least being as gracious as he could.

You waved him off, working quickly towards making yourself scarce despite the feeling inside your chest tugging at you, pleading with you to stay.

But you didn’t want to stay, not really. Not with him gone.

Upon seeing that you were set on leaving he slowed, his frenzy calming seemingly to ensure he could leave with you.

It was a considerate gesture yet still it pulled a thread of guilt tight inside you, at inconveniencing him, holding him back from whatever he had to do.

You left at the same time, him being a perfect gentleman for you all the while, holding the door open for you and giving you a gracious nod as he headed on his way.

You spent most of your day debating whether or not you should show up at the casino that night. Would it look desperate? It probably would but to be honest, it wasn’t that far from the truth. Would he want you there?

When you got particularly nervous you couldn’t help but imagine him turning you away, deciding he was done with you, or pretending not to know you at all. You weren’t sure which would hurt worse.

But in the end, you couldn’t keep yourself away. It would take more self-control than you had on hand

You’d never been so nervous walking in before. It felt like everyone was looking at you. When you looked up, you saw Nocturne. His lack of features did nothing to disguise the fact he was staring at you.

You settled at his table, and he dealt cards while looking straight at you, his face entirely unreadable.

You had gotten no better at poker, despite his ‘lessons.’ In fact, you’d say you’d gotten much much worse.

You lost all your chips incredibly fast, not pacing yourself like you normally did, far too frazzled for that. In about an hour, your entire budget meant for your next visit was gone.

Part of you hoped maybe you’d be familiar enough with him soon that you wouldn’t need to come here every other week anymore. But maybe that was wishful thinking.

Everything in you wanted to go get more chips so you could return to his table with an easy excuse but you were already running ahead of what you should have spent this week.

So instead you waited, hoping he’d come up to you when his shift was done.

And so you sat, with about two hours ahead of you, waiting for midnight to come and for him to get off work.

You didn’t have much to do in the meantime. Normally you headed out as soon as you lost but part of you thought, or maybe just hoped, that he’d come talk to you.

Even if nothing came of it, you couldn’t leave without at least talking to him.

Not after last night.

You were incredibly bad at looking busy, it seemed, stirring a drink you didn’t want halfheartedly as you waited.

You tried not to feel too self-conscious. Other people were idling around you, you were far from the only loiterer, but you just felt like you were doing it wrong.

As long as you didn’t look too out of place, you supposed it didn’t matter.

And so there you sat, staring at the little whirlpool you’d formed in your drink as you waited, trying not to look up too much. You imagined it would only serve to make you look more nervous and flighty.

This determination to keep your head down meant that when someone cleared their throat next to you, you almost jumped out of your skin.

Your head jerked up to find a familiar, dark face.

He leaned back a little, looking almost sheepish. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Just wanted to say I’m sorry about this morning. I thought maybe you could come over again and I could make it up to you?”

“More lessons?” You weren’t sure if you were more excited or nervous about this turn of events.

What did he want? Just a repeat of last time? Probably. You set yourself on being grateful for it either way.

“Whatever you’d like.” He reached out to take your hand before clearly thinking better of it, pulling back as you followed him out of the casino and back to a familiar apartment.

The mood was decidedly different from the night before.

He shuffled off towards the kitchen immediately, looking back at you standing near the door.

“Come in,” he said, beckoning you forward. “What would you like?”

“What?”

He gestured back towards the kitchen. “To eat. I’m afraid I was a terribly rude host last night, I didn’t make you anything.”

You shook your head dismissively. “You weren’t rude.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Anyways, what do you want.”

“You really don’t have to-” you tried to insist before he cut you off.

“And yet I’m going to. You’re not going to decide anything, are you? That’s fine. Do you like pasta?”

You gave him a small nod and he immediately started pulling out pots and boxes and fresh ingredients faster than you could keep track of them.

You wanted to help but you didn’t know where to start. He moved so swiftly and fluidly through the kitchen that it felt like any attempt to assist would hinder him more than anything.

You hesitantly moved to his side, asking a quiet, “What should I do?”

He gave you an amused glance. “Nothing. I’m making it for you, your job is just to sit back.”

You frowned, a crinkle forming between your brows. “I want to help.”

“You really don’t have to.” His voice was soft and low and you could feel your cheeks heat at the sound of it.

“But I want to,” you said, giving him what you hoped was a winning smile. “Now what are we making?”

He let out a fond little sigh and then put you to work. It was not lost on you that he was giving you the easiest tasks but you didn’t mind, you were happy with the compromise, so long as you were being helpful.

What made less sense to you than his insistence that you let him do most of the work was the way he made a point to stay away from you, keeping a careful distance as he moved gracefully about his tasks. Whenever you drew nearer to him he always found a convenient excuse to move to the other end of the kitchen.

At one point you reached out to grab the handle of a pan at the exact time he did and he pulled back before your hands had a chance to meet, almost like he’d been burned. You couldn’t help but worry you’d done something to upset him and that was why he was keeping his distance. But then why would he invite you here?”

So you tested the waters, intentionally bumping into him a few times, trying to make it as casual as you could.

He seemed nervous about it more than anything, almost leaning away as you got close to him.

You felt him go completely stiff as you brushed up next to him, your arms barely touching.

“You should be more careful,” he said, and you pulled away, embarrassment coloring your face.

But he hadn’t asked you to stop, he’d asked you to be more careful. Surely if he wanted you to stay away, he’d tell you as much.

So you pressed on, brushing up against him on occasion, desperate to figure out what was clearly making him uncomfortable so you could fix it.

The problem with touching him, which you wanted nothing more than to do, was it rendered you functionally useless. If you so much as bumped against him you were left grasping blindly for utensils and sticking your hands out in front of you to try desperately not to bump into anything.

It made you feel like an idiot. When he had to grab your hand to avoid you smacking it right into the hot stove that you would’ve sworn was feet away, you sheepishly stepped back from him, determined to stop making a fool of yourself.

But as soon as you both strayed far enough away from the stove you were back at his side, brushing against him again.

Your hand shifted around, feeling for a spoon in the dark, refusing to move away from his side as he just stood there. He wasn’t pulling away for once, you weren’t about to ruin this.

It wasn’t entirely unselfish. You wanted to touch him, you liked having him close. At least when he wasn’t desperately pulling away from you.

You heard a low chuckle and then a voice right next to you said, “Open your mouth,” his words moving hot air over your neck.

You did, patient and trusting, and were rewarded with a mouthful of warm food, delicious on your tongue.

“It’s amazing,” you declared, determined to show him how much you appreciated everything he was doing for you.

“Good, I’m glad.” You could practically hear the smile in his voice.

And then he pulled away and color bloomed back into your vision, leaving you feeling more disoriented than when it had been black.

“So what did you get up to today?” you asked, leaning back against the cold marble of the countertops.

He shrugged. “Nothing much, mainly just working.”

“Oh.” You’d hoped he’d at least pretend to have a reason he’d rushed off this morning.

You shouldn’t be here. You weren’t really sure why he’d invited you over at all. You’d clearly misread the situation, at least some part of it. He didn’t want to be close to you, had lied to you. All the evidence felt overwhelming. You were being a fool. There was nothing to figure out, you were taking advantage of his hospitality. He didn’t want you here, of course that was why he was pulling away. What other reason would there be?

His head cocked to the side. “What did I say? You look like a kicked puppy.”

“No, it’s fine, I can take a hint. I really didn’t mean to impose, now or this morning.”

He froze. “Oh my god, I forgot. This morning I was… I… No, you caught me, it was an excuse.”

You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. “Right, understood. I should go.”

He reached out to grab you and then stopped, pulling back again. “Don’t go,” he settled for instead, sighing out the words with both of his hands firmly at his sides.

You shook your head. “I really don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not. It wasn’t an excuse for me.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t… I just wanted to give you an out.”

“An out? You were the one who left, you said I could stay.”

He sighed. “Not from my apartment, from me.”

You flinched back. “I get it, I understand not wanting some stranger to stick around, I promise in the future you can just tell me that. You didn’t have to lie.”

He groaned. “No, it’s not like that. I like you, I really do. You’re sweet. I thought you’d stick around just to be kind, I didn’t want to make you think you had to stay just because we slept together.”

You started to laugh as soon as he got the words out, unable to control the instinct. He stared at you in clear confusion until you managed to force out the words between giggles. “I was thinking the same thing about you. You know, I was trying so hard to be casual, I guess I fooled you a bit too well. Why would you think I wanted to leave anyway? I was clearly crazy about you. I was there constantly fawning over you and you thought I wanted to leave?”

“It’s not that crazy. I saw how scared you were when you woke up. I know I’m not exactly a convenient person to be around. Plenty of people are attracted to me, sure, it’s cool and sexy to be stuck in the dark like that, but it’s not something people want forever. People try blindfolds on for a fun, kinky night, they don’t do it every day. You can’t hold hands with me on walks, would have to avoid touching me if you wanted to do basically anything. I’ve been here before, the novelty wears off fast and I get left behind with it. Figured it was good to give you an out. And sometimes, maybe, it’s a little easier to leave first. Hurts less that way.”

You froze for a moment, unsure what to say. You leaned forward a bit, half intent on hugging him but as you watched him tense up once again, you leaned back into the counter.

“You know,” you began, choosing your words carefully, “I had the biggest crush on you for ages. It wasn’t just about your quick fingers and card tricks, although I have to admit, they didn’t hurt,” you said with a smile. “I first came there, to see you, because my friend said you were sweet. She said you made sure she felt safe there, that you kept a guy who was bothering her away. But more than that, you made her laugh afterwards, cheered her up. I had no idea how right she was. You always paid attention to me, made me laugh the whole time I lost, and let me hang around after. At first, I thought it was some sort of tactic, a way to get better tips, and I didn’t mind. But you never really seemed to pay that much attention to anyone else and I thought that it was awfully considerate of you to at the very least make sure I didn’t see when you did, to try and make me feel special, because surely that was all it could be. And even that gave me butterflies. You were so sweet and funny, but it couldn’t be anything more than that. So when you decided to take me home last night I was so excited not because it was some fun fantasy, but because it was you, and because you wanted me. You’re not a blindfold, you’re a person. And I can get gloves for walks or you can help guide me or.. I don’t know, I haven’t had much time to think about it, but I’m sure we could figure something out. If you wanted to, that is, I don’t…”

And then his mouth was on yours and the words you’d been saying faded away entirely.

His hand rose to cradle your cheek, holding you close, as he pulled you with him, slowly and steadily leading you somewhere, your mouths never parting.

The two of you fell back onto the couch and you didn’t even flinch at the movement. You trusted him, he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

In the position you’d fallen into, you were on top of him, pinning him to the back of the couch.

He didn’t seem to mind, two of his tendrils snaking around your hips to pull you even closer, his hips just barely bucking up, begging for friction.

You gave it to him, grinding down on him as his tongue grazed the seam of your lips and you opened them to allow him inside.

He deepened the kiss eagerly, thumb stroking your cheek gently, sinking back into the couch to bring you further over him.

And then you smelled burning.

You pulled away from the kiss, trying to look towards the kitchen before realizing that you couldn’t.

He rose to try and meet your lips once more, tendrils trying to pull you back towards him.

You resisted the urge to give in to him, instead muttering a quiet, “Do you smell that?”

He flew off the couch and was in the kitchen in a second, taking the delicious food that had been basically finished and that you’d barely gotten a taste of off the stove.

He took a quick peek inside and you could tell in an instant that it was ruined as he dropped it into the sink with a sigh.

His hands rose to cover his face as he looked back at you, sitting disheveled on the couch and you swore if he were human, he’d be a bright red right now.

“I just wanted to make you dinner, oh my god,” he said, his voice muffled by his palms. “Some date this is.”

You perked up instantly. “This is a date?”

His fingers shifted open so he could look at you. “Maybe. If that’s alright with you.”

A delighted laugh escaped you, unbidden, before you were throwing yourself at him again, lips crashing together as you pulled his hands away from his face.

He took it in stride, hoisting you up onto the counter, which pulled a surprised little squeak from you.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down impatiently. You lifted yourself a little on the counter to allow him to pull them down, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh as he did.

“At last one of us should get to eat,” he muttered, nipping playfully at your thigh as you giggled, hands falling to tangle themselves in his hair.

It really was a shame, you decided, that you couldn’t admire him like this, between your thighs.

You whined out a quiet “please,” and he buried his face in your core in an instant, wasting no time and mercifully, making you beg no further.

He ate you out like a man starved, hands firmly pressed into your hips, holding you close, keeping you unmoving as you tried to buck into his face.

His tongue was longer than that of any man you’d been with before, snaking inside you before withdrawing so he could suck on your clit dutifully once more.

He didn’t so much as come up to breathe, lapping relentlessly at you. You were sure most of his face was covered with your wetness at this point and he couldn’t seem to care less.

You came like that, on his counter, his mouth working you over tirelessly.

Your back arched, shifting into him even further, practically fucking his face as you came.

Even as you came down from your orgasm he didn’t stop, tongue pressing deep inside of you as you let out whines of overstimulation.

You tugged him back by the hair and didn’t need your vision to be able to imagine the smug little self-satisfied look that was plastered across his face, You’d seen it more than enough times.

You shifted to move off the counter and his hands met your hips, pulling you off and making sure your feet reached the floor safely.

You smiled at him as he led you back towards the couch and you pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“My turn,” you said, leaning down before a tendril wrapped around your chin and pulled you back up.

“No, stay up here with me.”

You gave him a teasing grin. “Come on. I mean, you were supposed to feed me.

His grip on you remained unrelenting. “Please. I want to kiss you,” he said, his voice softer.

Who were you to deny him that?

Nimble fingers moved down, gentle and careful with you as they pushed inside you, and his lips met yours once more.

He tasted of you, a little sweet, moans escaping him as you licked into his mouth, desperate to feel more of him.

His fingers pulled out of you soon after he’d begun touching you and you couldn’t help but whine in displeasure.

Almost instantly his fingers were replaced by something thicker. He held tight to you as he pressed inside, slowly, until your hips met.

The tendril inside you now, the one that sat right between his legs, refused to stay still, squirming around in your tight heat, pressing against you perfectly, your back arching up at the movements.

He buried his head in your neck, his hands and tendrils alike keeping you close to him, as close together as two beings could be.

“God, you feel so good, so good for me. My perfect girl.”

Your hips bucked up, try to get movement, to get more.

He pressed soft kisses across your face as you hurtled towards a second orgasm, approaching much faster than the first. You were too far gone to kiss him back properly but he didn’t seem to mind.

Everything was messy and disorienting and you couldn’t be more content in it all, gripping onto him, wanting everything he’d give you as long as he’d stay close like this.

You were more than happy to let him do the work, to surrender to the sensations

As his hand absentmindedly stroked your lips, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, you took his fingers in your mouth, sucking on them dutifully, wanting as much of him as you could get.

“If you wanted your mouth filled so badly you can have it, you just have to ask nicely.

You let out a pleading noise. Talking felt impossibly hard, your thoughts moving slowly but desperately towards things that felt much more important than words, reaching for him again.

In a moment, that was no longer an issue, a thick tentacle entering your waiting mouth, pressing down gently on your tongue, almost caressing as your mouth hung open.

You came a second time like that, with one of his tendrils in your mouth as he thrusted in a steady rhythm inside of you.

It was less slow and soft than the last one, hitting you suddenly and quickly, leaving you with nothing to do but hold onto him. You let out a cry and gripped him hard enough to leave bruises on any human as he fucked you through it.

The tendril currently in your mouth squirmed and you could practically feel him trying to keep it from pushing further inside,

You moaned around it, unable to do much more than that as he thrusted hard and unforgiving into you, the rocking of his hips moving you in time with him.

His arms held you as more and more of his tendrils snaked across your body, wanting to touch as much of you as they could, endlessly greedy.

He grunted out the word “close” and as soon as he did, your mouth was suddenly empty again before impatient lips pressed against yours. You swallowed down his moans as he came inside you. His grip on your hips remained tight and you thought it just might leave marks. You hoped it would, wishing you could leave any on him in return.

He pulled out of you with a little hiss and moved to walk away before your hand swiftly reached out, pulling him back toward you as quickly as you could.

“You’re not going anywhere,” you said as you tugged him into a tight embrace.

He chuckled. “As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I should clean us up.”

You leaned back into the couch with a huff before suddenly and without warning, you were being lifted.

You sunk into his embrace, more than happy to be carried around. The sound of a tap turning on came from beside you but you ignored it, leaning into Nocturne’s chest.

And then, unceremoniously, you were dropped onto a familiar, soft bed.

Your vision returned for barely a moment before it was gone again, a warm cloth being stroked across your skin as he sunk into bed beside you, quietly cleaning both of you off as you snuggled into the covers.

He tugged at your shirt and only now did you realize it was still on. It had been all but forgotten during sex but now he pulled it off indignantly, like it was a barrier too much. Like he needed to be able to touch you. He pulled it off with a little of your help, throwing it unceremoniously to the floor and burying his head in your neck.

“No running off tomorrow morning, right?” you asked as your fingers carded through his hair.

“Of course not,” he said, his breath tickling your skin as he spoke. “I think I owe you breakfast.”

You gave a content little hum, hoping breakfast tomorrow was at least a little more successful than dinner had been.

Or maybe, upon reflection, you wouldn’t completely mind a repeat of tonight.

But then, you wouldn’t mind a cozy breakfast either. Wouldn’t mind eating across from him, not touching for a while so you could have the time to admire him. Wouldn’t mind eating in the dark so you could lean against him as you ate.

No, you thought. You wouldn’t mind any of it.

His tendrils snaked around your arms and waist to hold you close, all but trapping you against him, pulling you into a little cocoon of warmth as one grabbed the blankets and tucked them carefully around you.

“Is this okay?”

You nodded, pressing a soft kiss into the closest one.

He let out a quiet groan, the tendril reaching to caress your face.

Amidst the nest of tendrils you found yourselves cuddling inside of, you felt his hand reach for yours, your fingers entwining with his.

“Next time,” he muttered, “I’m going to make you the best dinner you’ve ever eaten, mark my words.”

You felt your heart swell, holding him tighter as he spoke.

Next time.

#terato #terato writing #monster x reader #monster x human #monster boyfriend #monster bf #shadow monster #shadow monster x reader #shout out to my lovely commissioner #really happy with how this turned out and they are to thank for it <3

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bunnis-monsters · 2 months

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I hope I'm not too late! For the 5K event (congratulations btw!!! You deserve all of them ^^), could my request be of a merman pod finding reader and deciding she needs to be their mate/breeding partner? I guess it'd be kind of a similar situation with the cow/bull hybrids?? I'm not sure how it'd go, but It can be as sfw or nsfw as you want (I deeply apologize if this exceeds 1k words. Of course you don't have to write this if you don't want to). Thank you in advance! ^^

A/N: my requests and commissions are closed for the foreseeable future, but my commission wait list is open! Consider reading my commission info and helping me out! Slots are limited, so get on the waitlist while you still can~

Warning: dubcon, breeding, virginity loss

It had been a normal day out on the water for you, swimming and splashing around in a small cove near your home.

Unfortunately(or maybe fortunately) for you, it was the spot where a pod of mermen spent their breeding season, relaxing and eating there before going out to try and find a suitable mate.

As you got ready to get out and go grab a snack from your cooler, you felt someone’s eyes on you…

When you turned to look, a head quickly dipped back under the water, and you felt your blood run cold when you spotted several dark shapes swimming in your direction.

Of course you immediately swam for the shore, afraid of it being a shark or some underwater predator. You were alone out there, and if you were eaten no one would ever even know.

Before you could stand to start wading through the now waist deep water, something grabbed your ankle, pulling you under.

You cursed yourself for not bringing your goggles, unable to open your eyes under the stinging, salty sea water.

You prepared for some kind of attack, hoping it wouldn’t be too painful… but nothing happened. Your body was gently lifted out of the water, and you felt something cool and smooth rubbing against your cheek… and your belly… and pretty much every part of your skin.

When you opened your eyes, you were surprised to see that you were surrounded by strange creatures, half human and half fish. They all were nuzzling their cheeks unto your flesh, some giving you soft licks as if inspecting you.

After thoroughly looking over you, they all began purring and trilling, some cooing as they set you on your feet. Getting a better look at them, you realized they were all handsome, and were all smiling as they surrounded you.

“A female in our cove? What luck!”

You were surprised when one of the creatures spoke, even more surprised when another responded with soft trills and clicks.

“Yes, she is quite warm… and so soft!”

The feeling of cool scales rubbing against your thigh made you yelp. One of their tails was curling around you, keeping you close and still.

“H-hey! What do you think you’re doing!?”

They all flinched when you raised your voice, their fins perking up. Some looked at you curiously, while some seemed a bit annoyed or afraid.

“Mmm? We’re preparing to breed with you. It’s not often a female is so close to our cove while it’s mating season.”

You nearly fainted, this was all too much. First you were having to accept the fact that mermen were real, which was hard enough by itself.

Now, these mermen that you just learned actually existed wanted to breed with you.

Another merman pressed against your back, letting out a soft coo as something sticky and hard slipped and rubbed between your thighs.

There was one in front of you as your thighs were fucked from behind. He examined your bathing suit, talking his head and pulling at the fabric curiously.

“Something to cover your mating slit? Perhaps human females are more cunning than I thought…”

He seemed to view the fabric as a separate layer of skin, his weighed fingers moving to trace over your clothed pussy.

The merman’s eyes went wide, and his finge red pressed against your clothed hole. “Warm… so warm…”

The feeling of his cool, webbed fingers moving over your warm pussy made you shiver and buck your hips uncontrollably. This made the merman purr in delight.

“Y-you can remove it… it’s clothing,” you said, panting softly. Honestly, it had been so long since you’ve really pleasured yourself, and you desperately wanted to get fucked stupid.

Your bathing suit was unceremoniously ripped off, and the pod gathered around you.

There were whines and hisses, each merman fighting over who got to breed you first.

It was finally settled that they would go from smallest to largest. A merman, a bit younger than the rest approached you shyly. He was excited, this would be his first time breeding!

He chirped at you, giving you puppy dog eyes as his cock bobbed up and down in need. It seemed this one couldn’t speak, possibly being new to human speech.

“Go on, just inhale her scent and your instincts will take over,” one of the merman said, encouraging the other as he placed a hand on your thigh.

His face buried itself in his neck, and as soon as he inhaled your scent his body stiffened and pressed against you.

The feeling of his cock struggling to find your hole, rubbing against you desperately made your heart throb. This merman was too cute!

You loved your hand down, the man letting out a nervous yet aroused trill when you helped to guide his cock to your entrance.

“There you go, baby… r-right there…”

He nuzzled his cheek against yours, the flesh slightly rough against your soft skin.

The second he sunk his cock into your cunt, he let out a groan, unable to stop his hips from rutting into you roughly.

You but your lip, trying not to make too much noise. The other merman moved in closer to watch, and they all seemed to communicate with the one mating with you.

“Warm? You said she’s warm there?”

“Oh… cum already, I want a turn!”

The first merman came, relaxing against you as your pussy was filled with his cum. The next was eager to get a feeling of your pussy, pushing the other out of the way before pushing in.

“Nngh… w-warm…” he gasped out, his body hands trembling as they grasped your plump hips.

None of them were used to fucking into something so soft and warm, mermaid were usually cold and rough… but god you were the complete opposite.

It was a breeding frenzy after that, each desperate to get their turn fucking that fat, warm pussy of yours. The sound of wet squelching and shameful moans and cries echoing through the cove.

After each had a turn, they returned you to the shore, leaving you with a freshly caught fish before they left to go hunt.

“We’ll be back by nightfall, mate!”

“Don’t enter the water until we’re home! We don’t want our scents attracting other competing males!”

They waved to you as they swam away… and you were looking forward the summer with your new pod of mates.

part 2? might make a little series based off this concept where you meet each merman and get to know them!

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NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @buckoothecow @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila

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wandascrush · 4 months

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Breath of fresh air

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, kissing, small hurt, mention of injuries

It was so nice to finally get outside and have some fresh air. The last few days you were stuck looking out the bay window as it poured and poured. Natasha, your wife and soon to be mother of your child, was extremely overprotective and made sure while she was gone that Laura watched over you from time to time.

The Barton’s only lived less than one acre over, on a small but beautiful farm of their own with their 3 mini Barton’s. They had actually given you and Natasha the idea to live off the grid, and who better to have as neighbors than the people who had become your guys’ family.

Especially Laura, she was one of your closest confidants and you loved causing chaos with her. Being a recent agent-out-of-commission due to your pregnancy was different, especially not training as hard and sleeping in, but as your symptoms really kicked up, you were grateful for the break. Recently entering the second trimester had not been easy. It was nice having someone like Laura to talk to, who really understood.

Natasha was scheduled to come back next Wednesday, and God were you ready for her to be home. It was hard to sleep without her soft touch, the Russian lullabies she sang you and the baby every night, and the way she'd gently rest her hand on your back throughout the day as a reminder she's there for you. Sometimes she'd come home with baby clothes or an extra teddy bear she'd seen for the baby's nursery, and in those moments there was no doubt in your mind that she’d make the most beautiful mother.

As you were drinking your tea and reading your favorite piece of poetry, an extremely loud whirring sound caught your attention. Using your book as a shield from the sun, you looked up to the sky to find the Quinjet making a rocky landing in your field, swaying the grass in waves. Almost immediately, Laura came out of her house with her kids trailing behind, worry and confusion written all over their faces. You went to each others sides, "What's going on Laur? Are they okay?"

"I'm sure their fine, relax, it's gonna be okay," but you heard the breathlessness in her voice as she held you close and away from the unpredictable helicopter in the middle of your flower field.

The door to the jet slid open and revealed a group of ruffed up, exhausted Avengers. The whole pack was there from first glance: Tony, Steve, Clint, Fury, Maria, Thor, Bruce, but no- oh there's Natasha. You and Laura exhaled at the same time, half walking and half skipping to Natasha and Clint. Finally, landing in her arms again. Her hold was tender but tight, tighter than ever as she closed her tired eyes and breathed in your scent and held the back of your head. The team gawked at you and Laura like alien specimens in your lovers arms.

"I'm just gonna say it- who the hell are you two?" Of course, Tony was the one to break the sweet moment.

Natasha let out a mix of a sigh and a chuckle, before sharing a glance with Clint. "This, Tony, is my wife Y/N. Y/N - the Avengers, Avengers - Y/N. There, the formalities are over." Clint soon did the same with Laura.

The sound of leather could be heard crunching as Fury walked toward you and Laura, embracing you two too hard, nearly making you cough. You gently reached up to give him a hug, "Nice to see you too Nick."

"HOW DO THESE TWO KNOW NICK?" Poor Bruce, he looked like he was trying to solve a math problem.

"We're agents with Shield, dipshit. I'm just on leave due to-," you gestured down to your visible pregnant belly, "and the fact that Nick is my boss so technically I have to listen to him. But Laura and I have actually known all of you for years, which is how we met Clint and Natasha...unfortunately." You chuckled when Nat lightly shoved your arm.

Good ol' Steve Rogers was the first to stick out his arm, "It’s a pleasure, Miss." His grip was firm, but not too hard. You smiled up at him kindly, "Nice to meet you too, Rogers. And call me Y/N, are you boys hungry?"

A few hours later you were in the kitchen, freshly showered and bandaged Avengers sitting at your dining room table, causing a ruckus and playing poker. You loved the sound of a full house and conversations mixing together to make one babble of laughing, foul mouthed heroes. It was music to your ears.

A gentle figure hugged you from behind while you were over the sink, placing their soft hands on your belly, you closed your eyes for a second and sighed happily.

“Missed me much sweetheart?”

“You know I did,” you craned your neck to give her a gentle kiss on the temple.

That night, as the worlds mightiest slept in your spare bunks and sleeping bags, you fell asleep safe and sound with Natasha’s arm around you and your baby-to-be.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff blurb #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x fem!reader

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monstersflashlight · 4 days

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Commission for anon!

Request: Hi! I'd love a ftm reader x multiple monsters/cryptids (dealers choice) where he's a party favor. Love the whole play thing dynamic with free use and impact play (very big fan of pussy slapping). Would love to see how creative you get with it. Same rules as a private play party where everyone knows each other and everything was pre-agreed upon and he's the hosts submissive. I adore your works!

A/N: Hi there! This was very fun to write, hope you like it!

Best. Night. Ever.

Multiple monsters (naga, werewolf, alien and mothman) x trans masc!reader || free use, impact play, sharing is caring, bondage, dirty talk (lowkey), spit-roasting

When your naga friend asked you to be one of the entertainments of the party he was hosting for his Cryptid Club, you were a bit unsure, but after he told you what you were supposed to do, you were completely sold on the idea. Since your transition, you were a bit of a slut, trying everything and anything you could, and this opportunity was priceless to try some... supernatural fun.

You arrived at the time your friend asked you to, but you were surprised when he instantly got to you with a concerned expression. “Hey dude look, I know I told you there was gonna be a few more entertainments, but… they didn’t show. Do you mind being the only one?” You were confused at his words, not really sure what that would mean for you, but also really worried you were going to let your friend down.

“What would that entitle?” You asked, trying to sound reasonable. You were ready to fuck some monsters, nothing to worry there.

“Well… Now you’d be the only one getting fucked, so it can be a lot,” he explained, sounded worried again. He kept biting his lip as his long tail thrashed nervously behind him.

Oh right, human body against a few monster’s dicks. Yeah, could definitely be a lot, but you… kind of liked the idea. All those monsters, all those dicks… just for you? You were almost ready to fall to your knees and offer yourself right there.

“I- I’m okay with it,” you answered, choking on your own saliva when the neediness appeared. You were so wet you could feel the wetness rubbing your thighs.

“You are the best, have I told you that?” He asked, leaning down to kiss your cheek loudly, a hit of saliva that he knew drove you insane but always made you giggle.

“Yes, you have.” You gave him an equally loud smack in his scale-covered face. “So… where do I go?” You looked around, trying to decipher something, but his house looked as normal as ever.

He walked you through everything. He told you more or less how many monsters there would be, half a dozen, but said not everybody would actively participate with you. You were okay with that. You had to be restrained, as part of the sacrifice-to-the-monsters theme, and they could do whatever they wanted with you (within reason), which you were very okay with.

He helped you out of your clothes, groping you every once in a while, kissing your chest scars like he always did when you fooled around, he had a bit of a fixation with your chest. He tied you over a table, legs far apart and arms over your head, presenting yourself like an offering. He kissed your temple and covered you with a silk sheet, telling you the guests would be there in a minute.

The moments of wait were excruciatingly hard, you weren’t one to be quiet or still for long periods of time, and being tied up, ready to be fucked and listening to all voices around… It was driving you insane with excitement and anticipation, your cunt so wet you could feel your juices dripping down your crack.

Someone clapped, and silence fell down upon all. “Hello friends, welcome to my party. I present you our lovely hole-in-one for the night.” There was a chorus of ah’s and oh’s as he pulled the sheet off your body. You felt like the most desired being in the whole universe, all anxiety dissipating in a cloud of desire and heat. “Look at that pretty cunt, all ready for us to play with… who wants to do the honors?” The naga host asked everyone, you shivered, your whole body trembling with anticipation.

You looked around, watching mesmerized all the monsters in the room. There was a magnificent white werewolf, a green alien with fingers so long you could already imagine where those would go, and even a mothman whose antennae were twitching every time he moved. You were more than ready to be ravished.

Some approached, the werewolf chuckling when you groaned at the sight of his huge dick. “Don’t worry darling, I won’t knot you. Not today, at least.” You blushed at the innuendo and looked at him with pleading eyes. “But I called dibs, so I hope you are prepared.” That’s all the heads up he gave you before his big tip was breaching your cunt, you were drenched already, and he slipped inside as you groaned loudly.

He smirked at you, grabbing your hips and going further and further, to the point it was almost painful, but he didn’t care. And you didn’t either, he felt magnificent inside of you. And when he bottomed out, he didn’t even wait two seconds before he was fucking you mercilessly. You could feel the base of his knot hitting your clit at every thrust, your mouth hanging open as your naga friend approached, pinching your nipples until they felt raw and you were about to explode.

“I like your present to us, friend, you did good,” the alien said as he rubbed his dick along your face, slapping your check with it. You tried to catch it in your mouth, but the werewolf fucking you didn’t let you, slapping the outside of your thigh and making you scream. Everyone looked at you at once, and you blushed.

“Such a needy slutty toy,” this time it was the mothman complimenting you, his dick already out of his cock-pocket.

He was rapidly jerking his dick next to your face, which was average size but had ridges and some sort of protrusion at the end that you know would feel phenomenal inside of you. You almost begged him to fuck your cunt instead of your mouth, but you remembered you were just a toy, you had no say on which hole he fucked.

You dutifully opened your mouth and he praised you. “Such a good boy-toy, aren’t you?” Someone else laughed behind him, you could see a shadow of green, probably the alien, but you couldn’t think much about it before your hair was roughly pulled and he started fucking your mouth with intent. You gagged, and he chuckled. “He’s so needy, won’t stop gagging trying to get more of me,” the mothman over you was almost cooing at your messy self, drool going everywhere as you indeed gagged on his dick. Your head was pushed back, his balls hitting your nose as you tried to go further and he pinched your nipples, making you groan around his cock.

Whoever was fucking your cunt, you thought he was the werewolf you saw earlier, responded: “You have to try his cunt later, bro, he’s squeezing me so tight I think I’m going to spill any second.” He pumped a few more times and spilled inside of you, adding to the mess you were already and making you groan indecently around the cock in your mouth.

He pulled back and somebody replaced him, a new cock pressing against your gaping hole, but when you thought you were going to get fucked again, you heard your naga friend saying: “Don’t be shy, slap his cunt, he loves it.” You gagged, trying to pull away from the cock, already anticipating what was going to happen. But the mothman didn’t relent, he pushed further as whoever was on your lower half did exactly that.

Slap.

Your eyes rolled back into your head, your back arched impossibly high as you came. You came so hard and so forcibly that you squeezed the muscles in your throat, making the mothman pull back as he released, painting your face with his sweet come. You kept coming as he rubbed the tip of his cock over your open lips, your brain was so far away that you couldn’t care less.

“Does he always react like that?” The alien asked, jerking himself next to you, his hand already approaching your dripping hole.

“Every single time, he’s a slut with a pretty hole,” your friend responded. You blushed hard, knowing full well that he was right. The alien didn’t think twice before slapping your pussy again, making you cry out so loud that everyone around laughed. You were so sensitive, and it felt so great…

“Please…” Is all you could say before someone else’s dick was inside of you and you were being pounded into oblivion, a new cock being rubbed over your messy face as someone pinched your clit almost painfully. Not two second later you had a naga dick (the big one of the two) buried inside your cunt and the alien’s cock in your mouth. You were used like a monster’s fleshlight, and you couldn’t feel better.

“Slap him again, I want to feel his cunt squeezing me.” He did, and you saw stars. The milky way. The whole fucking universe.

One after another multiple cryptids fucked and probed and groped and played with your body like you were just a toy for their enjoyment. And you were. You wanted to be. And it felt fantastic. Better than fantastic, it felt perfect to be played with by a bunch of monsters.

You ended the night covered in fluids. You didn’t even know how many monsters came in you, over you… You only knew pleasure and desire and complete bliss. You were sated to the point of dizziness, and when everyone left between compliments to the host and you, your naga friend carried you into the shower and cleaned you sweetly. Always the gentleman. Before you fell asleep, his tail nested around your body, you could only have one thought:

Best. Night. Ever.

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milliesfishes · 3 months

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𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 (𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽)𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝓭𝓮𝓯𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝓯𝓮𝓶 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝔁 𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝓼𝓷𝓸𝔀 (𝓻𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭)

The domestic life had never been something Coriolanus had daydreamed about per se, but he'd known with the path he wanted it was nearly a given.

He'd known his choice in spouse would heavily influence the way this went. He'd aimed for someone pleasant, docile even.

You had been the best possible outcome. Though the marriage began as advantageous, he grew fond, and before he knew it, adoring.

Convinced you were sent by a higher power, he'd made sure to dress you in the best clothes, wrap you in the softest sheets, give you the best security money could buy. In addition, he gave what he had to you. His body was yours as well, and he made sure to remind you of the fact of it nearly every day.

His political pursuits only made him love you more, giving you an opportunity to shine in the spotlight. Sometimes he thought the public loved you more than he did, and he knew they loved you more than him. And he wouldn't have it any other way. You were a fine sight standing at his side at galas and dinners, photographing so well he wasn't convinced you weren't ethereal.

When you became pregnant, he rejoiced not just for the look of it, but for how miraculous you were. The sight of you carrying his child was a vision. And not that he cared as much, but it did wonders for his image to have a beautiful, glowing wife at his side, belly rounding with a baby.

Coriolanus marveled at the child after it was born, a son who was nothing short of a carbon copy of him. Motherhood suited you better than he could have dreamed, and the brightness you'd gained during your pregnancy made a home in you. He could hardly keep his hands off you, and he found you didn't want him to either.

The result of which was another bouncing baby boy, conceived less than a year after your first child was born. At this point, Coriolanus was in higher offices, and he had taken more time to be by your side, not wanting to miss a single second of anything.

Headlines far and wide praised the young, up-and-coming politician and his beautiful family, plastering the yearly portraits you commissioned across the front of magazines and newspapers. It was Panem's ideal, the four of you, and he used that image to propel him further and further up in politics, until he was up for the highest position in the country.

Presidency had been the end goal, of course, but he hadn't expected to reach it so soon. Once a boy with hardly a coin in his pocket, now a savvy, charming political powerhouse with a wife who was just the same.

The night he won his presidency, there were hours and hours of celebration, champagne and fireworks flowing freely. You hardly left his side, greeting dignitaries and senators, in a red gown he couldn't wait to unzip, dripping in diamonds he'd gifted you for the occasion. You looked every bit the perfect First Lady.

When the party had died down and he'd decided he wanted you all to himself, Coriolanus scooped you into his arms and whispered something to you that made you blush prettily. He started to kiss you once you were in the car and didn't stop all the way back to the mansion, up the stairs and into the bedroom. The children were long since put to bed, and he was excited to be alone with you.

"We did it," he whispered before he captured your lips yet again in a searing kiss. "You and me, darling. We'll run this country. We've got the world at our fingertips."

You traced his jaw delicately and slid your hand up to his hair, mussing his hair that'd stayed so perfect all night. "It's all you. You can do anything."

"Not without my wife," he murmured against your mouth. Coriolanus' hands grasped your hips, making you sigh and tug at his tie to loosen it. He ducked his head to your neck, lips trailing a tantalizing trail down to your collarbone. "My First Lady."

The way he said it made you shiver, and you pulled him by the shirt collar to the bed, pushing him down so you could sit on his lap, knees on either side of his thighs. He grasped your waist, leaning back slightly as you kissed him slowly, almost teasingly.

Your lips parted for a moment, and he opened his eyes to watch you breathe, your smooth fingers unhooking his top shirt buttons. He nearly turned liquid when your hand lingered there, tracing his collarbone. The way your face was so serene, he knew you were thinking about something intently.

Then you smiled, taking his face in your hands, your eyes flickering between his. Leaning forward, you gave him the softest, wispiest kiss, and whispered, "I'm pregnant."

Coriolanus pulled back ever so slightly, searching your face. When he found you were serious, a grin split across your features, and he fell so his back hit the bed, rolling over so he was hovering over you. His lips touched every bit of your face he could reach, conscious of your delighted giggles. The night truly couldn't have gotten any better.

Fresh off celebration, he leapt straight into his presidential duties, finding himself more productive than he'd ever been before. Of course, he kept a close eye on you as well, sticking to his usual routine for your pregnancies. If he had a particularly long day, you'd come up to his study and crawl into his lap despite his protests that you needed to rest.

"Can't sleep without you," you'd murmur, knowing that would make him come to bed. He was nearly conscious of what you were doing, but he allowed it to happen, defenseless against your wide eyes and soft touches.

Pregnancy didn't stop you from your responsibilities as the First Lady, and he was in awe of it. You hosted regular dinners and parties as easy as breathing, attended charity events and actual charities, from soup kitchens to schools, animal shelters to women's homes. Coriolanus was amazed by you, how you truly cared to use your position to make things better

You discussed your experiences with him as well, casually mentioning things he may want to take a look at in terms of conditions and laws. He was touched by your goodness of heart, and even though as president he didn't have the final say in everything, you inspired change, encouraged him to truly make things better, not just maintain order.

As the months in the first year of his term progressed, Coriolanus had made the acquaintance of quite a few figures in the Capitol's tree of politics, making nice with them for the sake of diplomacy. They were all eager to cozy up to him, of course, and he kept it in mind as he chose who to be seen with.

There were three senators in particular, who had wives, and children the same ages as yours and Coriolanus' two boys. He cautiously allowed them to become closer. The men were amiable enough and their wives were...well, he wasn't fond of them but you, pure sunshine in physical form, had nothing but good things to say about them, and he thanked the stars for your sweet disposition.

You suggested he have them over for tea one day, saying it would be good for all of them. The boys could have a few more friends their age, you could entertain the other wives, and Coriolanus could talk business with the men. An all-around win, you'd called it.

Of course he'd agreed, your hold on him influencing his decision as usual. He wouldn't dream of fighting your sway, as it'd always produced wonderful results in the past. Coriolanus had long learned to trust you.

The day of you were stunning in a soft red dress that accentuated your rounding belly, and he made sure to tell you how beautiful you looked several times before everyone arrived.

Ever the gracious hostess, you greeted the other wives gracefully, settling on one side of the room with them and the children, allowing Coriolanus and the senators to have a modicum of privacy. As well as this, it made it so he didn't have to interact with the women with whom, he'd confessed to you secretly, he wanted as little to do with as possible. It was like you'd read his mind, and he made a mental note to thank you later.

It began smoothly. The senators were friendly, and their political proposals were fine ideas. He took note of the better ones, already plotting a joint strategy in his head. Whenever he glanced to the other side of the room, you were smiling, and the children were content.

About an hour in, however, he noticed you stand and exit swiftly out of the corner of his eye. That was unusual. He didn't pay it any real mind though, until it had been ten minutes and you still hadn't returned.

Coriolanus got to his feet and excused himself, making his way into the hallway and scanning the space for you. He heard sniffling around the corner, and when he went to investigate, he found you with a hand over your mouth, eyes closed as tears streamed down your cheeks.

His face fell, and he immediately took you into his arms, folding you into his chest and holding your head there the way he knew you liked. "Darling, what's the matter? What happened? Are you feeling alright?"

You let out a breathy sob, shaking your head. "Nothing, it's nothing. I'm just emotional. I'm always emotional."

A bold-faced lie. Coriolanus had heard stories of pregnant women crying at the drop of the hat, but you'd never been that way. Not with either of your sons and so far, not at all with this baby either, six months in.

"You can tell me," he decided on saying, smoothing your hair under his hand. "I don't care how little you think it is. I'll fix it no matter what."

"It's stupid," you breathed, your arms grasping around his middle.

"Easier to make better, then," he kissed the top of your head, trying ot coax you into confessing.

That softened your resolve, and you took in a breath. Maybe you could sense he wouldn't relent. Maybe you felt safe enough to tell him. Either way, or both, you started talking.

"The other wives..." you started, and he bit his tongue. His opinion was already low of them, and he had a feeling whatever they'd done would sink it to the depths. "They were making...comments. About how many babies we've had."

His brow furrowed. He hadn't even realized that was something to make 'comments' on. "What did they say?"

"Have you noticed none of them have more than one?" you looked up at him, your teary eyes piercing his. And he realized he'd never taken that into account, but it was true. "They impli- said that it was low class, district was the word one of them used, to do what we've done and have multiple children."

In shock, Coriolanus smoothed a hand over your rosy cheek, brushing another tear away. "That's ridiculous. How could the number of children we have determine our status?"

"Apparently because I'm married to the president, I'd be neglecting my responsibilities by portraying myself as a 'housewife'," you whispered, not meeting his eyes at that part. "It comes across as undignified." He was about to contradict you, when you said more. "And they were talking about my charity work, saying I do too much and I shouldn't be neglecting our boys-" your breath hitched on the word, and a fresh wave of tears ensued.

Coriolanus let you bury your face into his chest once more, not caring if you got makeup on his collar. This was more serious than something that could be rendered with dry-cleaning.

He was in disbelief that anyone would dare say such things to you, such things that were so blatantly untrue. And to your face, no less. He almost admired the boldness of it. The audacity of Capitol women truly knew no bounds. He knew jealousy when he saw it, having been an active devotee of it for much of his life. These women had put you in an impossible spot. You couldn't be a good enough mother, or a good enough First Lady in their eyes. His mind worked quickly, and he knew what he needed to do.

Lifting your chin, Coriolanus said, "Will you look at me, sweetheart?" You obliged, and his heart broke at the look in your eyes. He lifted his hands to cradle your face, the corners of his lips twitching when you leaned slightly into his palm.

"You are a wonderful mother," he emphasized. "Our boys adore you. And you do beautiful work for all your charities. Do you know how many remarks I get about how caring and selfless my wife is?" Your tears slowed down, and that encouraged him to continue. "You're perfect. Anyone who says otherwise doesn't know what they're talking about."

That made you smile, and he relished in how pretty you looked even after you'd been crying. Coriolanus kissed your hairline gently, and pulled you in for another hug, rubbing your back. "Why don't you go upstairs and rest for a bit? I'll join you in a moment."

"What about-?"

"I'll take care of it," he interjected firmly when you remembered everyone still sitting in the drawing room. Coriolanus leaned down and pressed a gentle peck to your mouth, enough to make you smile a little more. "Go on up."

You left him, and he watched you walk down the hallway to the stairs, looking so small in the vast, grand expanse.

Somewhat regrettably, the senator's proposals would have to be rejected. Although maybe there was a way to twist them, so they were just different enough from their specific wording to make them seem like his. Maybe they would protest, but it didn't matter. Their wives had disrespected you, the center of Coriolanus' world, and so they wouldn't reap any benefits. And besides, nobody would believe them.

Perhaps it was a little early in his presidency to have someone ejected from society, but he would certainly try. Anyone who dared question you, his sweet, kind, darling wife, would have hell to pay.

Coriolanus was the president of Panem. He could do as he pleased.

And he'd exhaust every last resource to keep you happy by his side.

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