#and then did wonderful things by writing this fic

[pupyuj]

→ “your colorful secrets.” || jang wonyoung x reader fic.

— weeks after the event which you call "the weirdest thing that's ever happened all year", wonyoung approaches you about your 'strange' behavior towards her in the most 'wonyoung' way possible...

word count: 10.6k

dynamic: dom!mean girl!jang wonyoung x sub!nerd!reader.

content warnings: smut, fingering, clit play, nipple play, masturbation (for like, a minute lmao), overstimulation, mommy kink, degradation.

requested? : kind of!

a/n: well, we finally made it ya'll! 😭😭💞 i feel like i'm gonna say this about every fic i write here from now on but PHEWWW THIS QUITE LITERALLY TOOK FOREVER?? but i was more than happy to flesh this little universe out more and revisit our favorite mean girl and her awkward nerd <33 just like you guys, "magic words" is one of my favorite things that i have written so even though this kinda took me wayyy too long to finish, I WAS SO HAPPY THAT I STILL DID IT UEUEUE MEAN GIRL WONY MY BELOVED 🥺💓 anyhow, i really, really hope you guys enjoy this and here's to more mean girl wonys in the future hehehe

p.s. i hope ya'll don't get bored too easily bcs wow there's a shit ton of talking in the first half of this fic—

previous: magic words.

jang wonyoung was late. 

to class.

which wasn’t exactly all that surprising considering she thinks she can do whatever she wants. but she was never late to class. you would know—you were always waiting until she entered the room. it was like you were never calm until she appeared, but that was because you have had the biggest, lamest crush on her all year. even the professor took a pause when he called wonyoung’s name for attendance and nobody was there to respond with “i’m here, professor~” and a cheeky smile. you stared at the empty seat in the middle of the classroom, wonyoung’s seat, and wondered what could’ve been in her way for her to— 

“just hold on for mommy, ‘kay?”

you dropped your pen, covering your red face with your hands. your seatmate gave you a brief look before going back to reading her notes. did you really have to think about that first thing in the morning? well, it wasn’t as if it was all you have been thinking about for the past two weeks: wonyoung’s lips on yours, her hands all over you, her sweet voice soothing you, and her eyes looking at you like you were her last meal… you still couldn’t believe that entire thing even happened!

ever since then, things have been really weird. a lot of people looked at you more when before wonyoung fucked you, you were usually ignored which you liked. and you knew everybody whispered about you and wonyoung too. neither of you were being discreet in that room in the library that day so you heard all sorts of things from your fellow students the day after. usually about how they didn’t think you were that kind of girl, or how they never thought wonyoung would ever consider fucking ‘someone like you’. see, other people would be mad if they heard some strangers say all those things about them but actually, you agreed with them.

everything about that day went against a lot of things that you thought about yourself. well, you weren’t planning on staying a virgin forever but you really didn’t expect for it to be taken by jang wonyoung of all people!

“come on, baby. give me a show.”

you squeezed your thighs together, your heart hammering inside your chest. god, it almost felt like wonyoung was right up against your ear—talking to you and berating you for thinking about her 24/7 after she fucked you. you felt your core clench upon remembering how warm wonyoung’s hands were, how her fingers felt ramming inside you… god, you wanted it all again. but there was no way she would agree to that, right? knowing wonyoung and the kind of girl that she was, that would be the only time she would fuck you, right?

a pink jacket catches your attention, making you look up from your thighs. jang wonyoung has finally arrived. she was talking to the professor as she sat in her seat, all smiles and giggles as usual. she throws a brief glance over her shoulder, sharp eyes meeting yours. you didn’t miss the way the corner of her mouth lifted up, smirking at you as she eyed you down. you didn’t even know how the fuck she was able to do that within a millisecond of looking at you, but she did it anyway and it only made you squirm in your seat.

oh, how pathetic you were. you’ve been feeling all sorts of things after wonyoung fucked you, but you never knew what to do about them. for now, you just wanted to get through another day of being in wonyoung’s presence despite everything that’s happened. she hasn’t spoken much to you since that day and you doubted that anything was going to change—she’s jang wonyoung after all. you were probably just another hook-up to her, something she’s bound to forget about in a week or so.

(see, that was just all kinds of wrong because right at this moment, all the nosy people who were staring at wonyoung can clearly see how she spared your pitiful figure by the window little glances every other minute with a sly smile on her face. she didn’t make an effort to be discreet. she never does. when jang wonyoung likes something, she is going to let people know—she has to! or else they’ll all just think you’re up for grabs.

no. wonyoung was going to show them only she can really pull all the nice girls in this school. especially you—(y/n) (l/n), the campus’ adorably awkward bookworm who’s very endearingly clumsy despite her well-put appearance. god, how wonyoung had become obsessed with you and you had absolutely no idea.

but it was more than just your character too. for a while now, actually ever since she fucked you, something about you has been bothering her mind. it’s made her unable to stop thinking about you and truthfully, it fucking pissed her off so much that she had to brainstorm a plan, a solution, for it. which became the reason why she was late today. will wonyoung actually execute it? who knows! for now, she can stare at you scribbling on your notes and laugh to herself because she knew, oh she so knew, that every time you paused, shut your eyes, and shook your head—you were thinking about her.)

thankfully, the class ended after another hour and a half. halfway through it all, you got bored and opted to stare out the window. so much so that you didn’t realize class was over until the familiar scent of money and local fame wafted into your nose—wonyoung had walked past you, and she winked at you. you found yourself freezing up in your seat, so fucking pathetic. nobody seemed to notice what wonyoung had just done which was fortunate for you! with bright red cheeks and ears, you packed up our belongings in record time and swiftly power-walked your way out of the classroom.

the attention that was put on you as you walked along the hallways of the building was annoying, for the lack of a better word. it seems like everybody was looking at you as if this was the very first instance of a loser somehow ‘getting’ the popular girl to sleep with her. sometimes, you wish it never happened. as good as it felt, the aftermath was almost not worth it. you’ve heard cruel things being said about you after that day and to save your enrollment, you kept yourself quiet and pretended like you were unaware. except that you weren’t, so every time you make eye contact with someone and they start whispering to their friend or something, it only adds up to that pool of anger that was slowly building up from the pit of your stomach.

still, you couldn’t bring yourself to blame wonyoung for it all. you were part of the act as much as she was but you also can’t say that you brought all this attention and rumors to yourself. you blamed the other girl’s stupid reputation, actually. but it’s not like you can rewind time and make yourself leave that goddamn room when you thought wonyoung was never going to come. there was no point in dwelling on it now. it happened and you have to live with the consequences. being talked about isn’t half as bad as the threat of your scholarship getting revoked anyway.

you were right on the other side of the building when you realized you had no idea where you wanted to go. you just wanted to get out of that classroom, away from wonyoung’s sights so she can’t have you acting up in front of everybody. not that you would actually be able to make stable eye contact with her anyway. naturally, you found yourself marching towards the washroom. you were nearing to the door when you heard a few girls chattering lively.

you entered the washroom and there stood in front of the mirror were kim jiwon and shim jayoon—your acquaintances and wonyoung’s super smart best friends from one of the science programs. they were the last people you wanted to see face-to-face and for good reason! as soon as they saw you, they squealed and grabbed your arm, yanking you to stand in front of the mirror with them. “there’s the woman of the hour!” jiwon teased, lightly pinching your cheek.

“more like woman of the week—literally nobody is shutting up about you! this must feel like heaven.” jayoon nudges your arm, firmly believing that you liked all of the attention you were getting when you really didn’t. you would do anything to be invisible again.

“is this really what it feels like to be popular? i hate it,” you grumbled, earning a sigh from jayoon. “i don’t know how you guys ever manage.”

“you have an outdated opinion about all of this, baby girl! don’t you like having everyone’s eyes on you? now they’ll see how much of a pretty little thing you are—it’s great!” jiwon said. no, she was not very successful in convincing you that this wasn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened in your academic life so far. but you decided that you wouldn’t fight her on it and instead, stand idly between the two girls while they gossiped and twirled and played with your hair.

you were completely signed off from the conversation; the only thing in your mind was the feeling of wonyoung’s hands in your hair while she kissed you. unconsciously, you touched your lips with your fingers. fuck.

“oh, you’ve got it bad, huh?” jiwon teases.

“hey, don’t blame (y/n)! wonyoung’s a good kisser—i’d miss her lips too,” jayoon sighs dreamily. then she gasps and grips your forearm tightly. “do you want to fuck her again?” she asked with shiny eyes.

“w-what?!”

“where’d you get your information from, jayoon? wonyoung fucked her.”

“oh, right!”

you covered your face with your hands, “please stop talking.”

jayoon forcefully pries your hand off your face, “listen, gaeul-sunbae is having a party next week and we’ll be there with wonyoung! you should come! we’ll make sure to get you guys a room.” jayoon says with a wink. god, they’d let the two of you fuck in a house full of your schoolmates?! that would just add onto your world of troubles.

“i’m not going to any party and i’m never sleeping with wonyoung again, okay? i just—i want this all to end. i hate it when i’m looked at.” you gently wiggled yourself out of the two girls’ hold and once again marched towards the door.

“you shouldn’t have fucked her then.” jayoon says with a shrug as you reach for the handle, making you pause.

“she fucked me.” you corrected your friend before swinging the door open and exiting the washroom.

“yeah jayoon get your facts straight!” you heard jiwon laugh as you bolted out of the washroom. you rolled your eyes, shaking your head, and glaring at the first person you saw in the hallway. the person in question raised an eyebrow before turning to talk with his friend, eyes lingering on your leaving figure.

gosh, this school was a nightmare.

nevertheless, you survive the long walk back to your classroom without sparing another person a glance. did you bump into people because you absolutely refused to look up? yes! did you care? not at all. it was much, much better than dealing with the scrutiny in everyone’s eyes. apparently, sex was only a problem when the girl who wanted nothing to do with it actually did it. every time you remembered how everyone in the library looked at you after you and wonyoung left that private room, you wanted to scream. literally. all of the negative things that came after the event made you forget about the sweet stuff. like the way wonyoung insisted on driving you home, how she walked you to a bus stop when you refused to ride with her, how she patiently and wordlessly waited for your bus with you, and how she gave you a kiss on the cheek when your bus did arrive.

but what good was having wonyoung’s attention if everybody was also going to look at you, but in a worse light?

you knew it probably wasn’t fair, but you grew a tiny bit of resentment towards the popular girl.

you entered your classroom after a deep breath—eyes glued to the ground and hands hidden under the straps of your backpack. it felt like you were back in high school all over again. this sucked so bad. but unfortunately, getting to your seat was only a bumpy road! all you had to do was not look up and start reading material once you’ve sat down. it should be so easy. of course, fate had other ideas.

wonyoung had bumped into you while walking towards her own seat, forcing you to tear your gaze from the ground to look at her. oh, she was so pretty—no, (y/n)! “sorry.” wonyoung says with a cheeky smile. (she was excited that she finally got you to look at her. and as expected…) you blushed, merely looking away from the other girl before rushing to your seat. you heard a few giggles behind you which only confirmed your suspicions—it was definitely planned. it didn’t help that your cheeks and ears were flushed red… gosh, even your neck felt warm. you know what also didn’t help? how wonyoung’s intense gaze didn’t leave your figure for a while. you could feel her staring at you like you were some piece of meat for her to devour and you weren’t even exaggerating by saying all that!

it was the same kind of look she was giving you right before she kissed you that day. despite your resistance, you met wonyoung’s stare. you noticed that she was surprised to see you raise your head, but it looked like it pleased her more than anything. wonyoung tilts her head and smiles slyly at you while her eyes travel from your hands, your exposed thighs, to your legs… now who knew jang wonyoung could be such a pervert? you squeezed your thighs together, glaring slightly at wonyoung who merely giggled before finally turning around and facing the front.

things like that—wonyoung’s attention, her interest, her affection—were the only good to come out from that hook-up. the rest? the side-eyes, the rumors, the whispers, the unwanted popularity spike? you wanted nothing to do with it. but, again, it wasn’t like you could reverse time.

so, you were going to do what you’ve always been good at: hide yourself to the point of invisibility. it’s never failed you before, and it shouldn’t now.

the only challenge was jang wonyoung herself—will she let you out of her sight?

you didn’t want to think about the most obvious answer. instead, you tried your damned hardest to not think about her at all for the rest of the day. you poured all of your attention to the lectures, the coursework, and the notes. basically anything just to avoid hearing her voice in your head again. at least it wasn’t as bad as the first few days after she fucked you. during those times, you quite literally replayed the entire thing in your head every minute. it wasn’t surprising that you ended up failing a few small quizzes around that time.

when you’ve put every belonging you had in your backpack, you practically rushed to get up from your seat and headed to the door. avoiding every eye that latched onto your figure. you successfully passed wonyoung’s seat without trouble until…

“ah, (y/n)! finally, i can talk to you.”

ms. lim, the professor for your last class of the day, calls you. you turned around with a tight-lipped smile on your face, reluctantly walking closer to the teacher’s desk while most of your classmates walked out of the door. wonyoung was still in the room. she was staring. fuck, why is she always staring?!

“i wanted to thank you for all the help you gave last week for jiyoung’s little… ‘art for amateurs’ club.” ms. lim sighed at the name (she has always hated it but ms. kim jiyoung, her fiancé, loved it too much to change it) and smiled up at you.

“no need for thanks, ma’am. i was passing by the art room that day and i just thought i’d help.” you hear a few people shuffle behind you. more students walking out. a flash of pink walks by behind you. wonyoung. you blinked and smiled at the professor, acting as normal as you could.

“if you don’t mind, i need you to do another favor for me,” ms. lim opens up one of her drawers and carefully takes out a lunch bag from it. the professor smiles sheepishly at you. “i hate to ask my students to do little chores like this. but i’m going to be preoccupied with grading and lesson plans for the rest of the day and that idiot jiyoung forgot to grab her food from me.”

you chuckled lightly, “hard to imagine ms. kim of all people would forget about her food. i’ll take it to her, no worries.” you carefully held the lunch bag in your hands and smiled at your professor.

“thank you, (y/n). she’s been all over the place lately! worrying about this one special pupil of hers that she’s practically begging to put up a piece of her work in the walls of the art building. it’s a whole thing, i won’t bore you about it. run along.” ms. lim waves you off with a laugh. you bowed to the professor before happily exiting the classroom with ms. kim’s lunch bag in hand. when you left the room, you saw that the hallways were still quite full with students lounging about—looks like it wasn’t going to be an easy walk to the fine arts building but oh well.

the first hurdle was squeezing through a crowd of jocks from different teams creating a ruckus in the middle of the hallway. the second struggle was nearly getting picked on by said jocks when they just so happened to notice you sneaking by. thankfully, a nice cheerleader with red hair diverted their attention so you could slip away. it was a quiet and pleasant walk along the school courtyard towards the fine arts building from there, with only the wind and soft rustling of leaves accompanying you.

the building was quiet, save for your own footsteps. usually, the hallways would be filled with sounds of casual chatter and the muffled voices of instructors and students alike. you had to say though, you much rather preferred the silence. it was comforting. you were usually surrounded with a lot of yelling, hollering, and laughing which sometimes wasn’t all that bad but considering everything that’s been happening the fast few days… yeah, this was preferable.

it didn’t take long for you to reach ms. kim’s classroom, and there you were met with a vast empty room littered with half-finished paintings and beautiful illustrations created by the students and ms. kim herself. there was a backpack and a big canvas set near the back of the classroom but you pay it no mind. it was common for students to stay after school hours just to kill time or work on their projects. you put down the lunch bag on ms. kim’s desk, all the more ready to turn around and leave when a particular painting caught your eye.

it wasn’t anything special by any means. in fact, it was buried behind more colorful paintings and you could only see half of it. you approached the painting, looking around the other canvases just to see it in full. it didn’t look finished, but then again maybe that was part of the appeal. the painting was that of an arrangement of beautiful flowers in a jar, they were wilting. or maybe they were just coming to life, looking at the soft streams of sunlight that shone down on them.

regardless, you didn’t have the luxury to analyze the painting any further when you heard shuffling behind you. alarmed, you turned your head quickly and… well, fuck.

“wonyoung…”

the tall girl clad in pinks and blues smiles at you. it wasn’t a very comforting smile.

“the one and only,” well, that sounded familiar. you watched as wonyoung threads the ends of her hair using her dainty little fingers. a smirk dances on her lips while she stares you down, very much liking how she has rendered you speechless with her mere presence. a bit of a dramatic statement but it was true! “how’d you like my work?” wonyoung asked, eyes quickly flickering over to the flower painting behind you.

you followed her stare, but quickly looked back at her in shock. “you painted that?” you gasped.

“you make me sound like i’m just a stupid bimbo,” wonyoung sighs dramatically. “of course, i painted it. would anyone else’s work look as gorgeous?” ‘charming’ as ever, wonyoung flips her hair over her shoulder with a smug look on her pretty face. you turned away, very quickly rolling your eyes before settling them back on the painting. you were impressed. you wouldn’t have guessed that wonyoung of all people would have that kind of talent, but then again, she is one of the class-toppers and nobody knows who she is exactly.

“it’s beautiful.” you admitted. you heard wonyoung chuckle, but she doesn’t say much else. you don’t look back at her, choosing to stare at her painting instead. again, something stopped you from looking further into it. wonyoung stood beside you, briefly looking at her painting with a somber look on her face before quickly covering it up with her usual cheeky, queen bitch smile. it was dead silent. did you even want to speak to her? for two weeks, you’ve resented all the attention that was given to you because of her. you’ve glared at the back of her head, cursed her in your mind whenever some students whispered about you… but somehow, you’re the one who’s tongue-tied now that you were actually alone with her.

it was confusing—feelings, that is. hell, the last real face-to-face interaction you’ve had with her was on that day. when she kissed your cheek before you got on your bus.

“wasn’t expecting you to be here, (y/n),” wonyoung unzips her pink jacket, slowly taking it off before putting it on an empty seat. you watched her from the corner of your eye, she was taking deep breaths and you could hear her. then she fixes her hair and turns around wearing a glowing smile. “but this is just perfect.” she steps towards you and instinctively, you jolted backwards.

“i-i just dropped something off for ms. kim… from ms. lim, i mean. i should get going.” well, it wasn’t going to be easy! what with wonyoung being inside your personal bubble and your heart beating so fast that you can’t quite hear your own thoughts. it didn’t help that she towered over you, and again, her perfume was a fucking weapon—rendering you immobile.

“don’t be like that, (y/n). i’m upset with you.” wonyoung says with a pout. cute, but you really shouldn’t let your stupid crush on her stop you from just getting the hell away! wonyoung was fascinated with the way your eyes wandered. she knew that no matter how angry you were with her, she was always going to have the same effect on you. and it was delicious. being able to have that much of an impact on someone. 

“you never called or texted me. i was waiting, especially after i sent you home,” wonyoung stands even closer and for a second, you actually saw some kind of emotion in her eyes. dissatisfaction, perhaps. “didn’t know you were like that, (y/n).”

“i d-didn’t even think you’d want me to contact you after… after all of that.”

“i wouldn’t have given you my number if i didn’t want you begging for more of me over the phone, dumbass.” wonyoung bumps your shoulder with her own as she walks past you. the way you looked (confused and… so fucking stupid) must’ve made her pissed, judging by the way she started dragging her equipment around with her eyebrows furrowed and eyes glaring at you every now and then. you stood there awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of your uniform. you should really leave. you had things to do at home! this wasn’t a time to waste with someone who was mad at you and someone you were mad with.

all it takes was a period of silence to remind of how much wonyoung affected your life. and suddenly all the anger was back. the longer you stood there and looked at her, the more it boiled up and threatened to tip over. but you were going to be mature. you were going to leave the classroom and go on with your life, leaving it all (wonyoung) behind.

“i have a few ideas on how you can make it up to me though.” wonyoung averts her gaze from the empty canvas in front of her to you.

given the way she was looking at you—or rather, has been looking at you, wonyoung was up to no good. and if you wanted any chance to redeem the little reputation you had in this academy, you had to be strong and not get swayed by her and her pretty little face and those soft lips and that mesmerizing pair of eyes. you shook your head, “i am not fucking with you again, wonyoung.”

the taller girl laughed, “what? did it look like i was going to make you do that? gee, (y/n), it takes one hook-up to corrupt you, huh?” wonyoung laughs, a smirk making its way to her face when she sees you glaring daggers at her. “you’re going to be my muse.” she says, crossing her arms and scanning you up and down. gosh, she didn’t even bother to hide the lust behind her stare… but you could tell that her statement wasn’t a joke.

“you’re… going to paint me?” you asked. wonyoung hums, staring right at you as she pulled her hair up to a ponytail, quietly anticipating your answer while you stood idly by the windows.

“only reason i’m here is because ms. kim has been begging for me to put something of my own up in the hallways. usually i would just refuse but the lady’s been nice to me since i stepped a foot in this school so why not? plus, what’s a better subject than my latest and possibly most popular fling?” wonyoung gives you a very sarcastic smile that makes you roll your eyes. you seriously needed to get out of here.

you were more than ready to leave until you remembered the way wonyoung’s eyes looked when she confronted you about the silence you gave her. then a pang of guilt hits you the more you think about her actions after the two of you hooked up. the walking together, the waiting together, and the kiss on the cheek. maybe attempting to cut her off was a dick move on your part…

“okay.”

wonyoung’s face visibly lights up. adorable.

“where do you want me?” you asked, blushing at the sight of the cute look on her face. all of your activities can wait. you wouldn’t have been able to live with yourself knowing that you were potentially hurting someone. albeit unintentionally and the person in question being your best slash worst nightmare.

“just sit in front of me and we’ll figure it out from there.” and so, you and wonyoung get to work. well, of course it was mostly her doing the work while you just sat on a stool and listened carefully to whatever she told you. 

oddly enough, the weight of her stare wasn’t as intimidating or nerve-wracking like it usually was. wonyoung had a certain softness in her eyes as she studied your features closely, and every time you figured that she saw something she liked, something would sparkle behind those beautiful brown eyes. watching wonyoung in what seems to be her natural environment… well, ‘unexpected’ would be the understatement of the year. you figured it would be parties and social clubs and outlet malls but then again, nobody really knew wonyoung.

getting so much as a glimpse of the untouchable popular girl was truly something. and despite everything that’s happened you find yourself feeling the way you did the first time you laid eyes on her on campus during freshman year. awestruck, with your heart nearly beating out of your chest as you desperately tried to look at something that isn’t her but ultimately failing. wonyoung gives you a smile, and it wasn’t her usual cheeky-teasing one. she looked… bashful? and is that a hint of pink on her cheeks?

it was strange to see, but you ended up smiling a little at the sight of a rare cute wonyoung. the tall girl’s cheeks show a deeper shade of pink as soon as your lips curled up in a smile, making you giggle a little. not a lot of words were shared between the two of you after that as wonyoung completely immerses herself in her work. and during that entire time you just stared at her, admiring her focused state. you wondered if she was concerned at all about making a mistake—her hand moved skillfully across the canvas with the attitude of someone that was sure about their abilities. you would hear an occasional tut partnered with a quick hum and followed by a quiet, satisfied laugh, giving you the impression that wonyoung was confident about the picture she was painting of you.

you��ve never been more curious in your life. you wanted to know how wonyoung sees you. it would be from an artist’s perspective but maybe you’ll see even a spot of how wonyoung truly sees you deep inside. especially after everything that has gone down between the two of you, and especially after her reaction to you forcing yourself to forget her existence for two weeks. it’s not like you were looking for any chance of the popular girl returning your feelings, you just wanted to know if you were anything to her at all. maybe you’ll get to know it here.

“(y/n),” wonyoung snaps you back into reality. she beckons you over with a proud look on her face. “come over here. see if you like it.”

soon enough, you were standing beside wonyoung, staring at the most impressive painting in the room. it was you; sitting on that stool wearing a gentle smile, but almost half of your entire form was covered by a slightly see-through curtain and the tiniest streams of sunlight. at first glance, the painting looks incomplete or rather, abruptly finished but it looks perfect in your eyes. and on wonyoung’s eyes too, judging by the way she looked at her own work with approval.

“it’s beautiful, wonyoung.” you said with a grateful smile.

“mhm. it’s y—” wonyoung pauses, and clears her throat. “obviously.” she said, chuckling awkwardly and flipping her hair over her shoulder with less flair than usual. you did not know what the hell that was all about. (“it’s you.” wonyoung wanted to say. but she bit her tongue real quick. why? well, jang wonyoung was not one to try to woo a nerd of all things like that! but really though—it’s you. of course it’s beautiful.)

you were admiring the painting some more and the longer you did, the more you noticed just how many details wonyoung put into it. from the slight crinkle of your eyes while you’re smiling down to that tiny little scar you had on your right cheek. amazing.

“w-wait, you’re going to put this up in this building?” you asked, now blushing wildly. it’s not even that you were embarrassed of having your face put up in the fine hallways of this campus (there have been many instances of your face being plastered everywhere because of your very impressive achievements as an honor student). it’s the fact that wonyoung was involved in all of this that makes it all complicated.

“no.”

surprised, you looked at wonyoung with slightly widened eyes. she worked hard for this painting for the sole reason of putting it up, and now she won’t? maybe she sensed your discomfort at the thought of putting up a painting of you made by wonyoung, which you know would just repeat the never-ending nightmare of being surrounded by rumors all over again. you would ask the tall girl to give you a reason why, but you noticed that she was standing closer to you now, eyes darkened and very much drawing you in.

just like last time.

“for my eyes only.” wonyoung says quietly. she was referring to the painting, sure, but she was looking at you the entire time. the implication makes your face heat up, and suddenly you’re finding it hard to do anything else except to just stand there. obnoxiously close to wonyoung with your eyes constantly flickering up and down from her eyes to her lips. you remember what those lips taste like, how they feel moving against yours. what you would give to feel and taste them all over again.

“i need a break,” wonyoung’s gaze pierces through your own, inviting you in. “don’t you?”

and all it took was the slightest nod of your head for wonyoung to lock your lips in a searing kiss with her own.

god, it felt like your chest collapsed within itself. your hands immediately cup wonyoung’s cheeks, and having learned a few things from the last time you kissed her, you were much, much better at keeping up with her despite your heartbeat running a mile a minute. wonyoung’s own hands were on your hips, pulling you closer until she started undoing the ribbon on your uniform. then, she unbuttoned your shirt, forcing herself out of the kiss and putting her lips on your neck as she did so. it was hard trying to keep yourself quiet with the way wonyoung nibbled and softly sucked on your skin… which was why you just stopped trying.

“ahh… mhm, wonyoung…” your moans were met with a hum from the taller girl, whose kisses now reached your chest.

“you missed me, didn’t you?” wonyoung whispers against your skin, leaving a mark just below your collarbone where she likes it best. she tilts her head up, lips hovering over your own, only touching slightly. “you missed mommy?”

fuck, that was gonna do you in.

too embarrassed to truly admit it all, you nodded, which earned you a pout mixed with a glare from wonyoung. “i’m gonna let that go once. you’re lucky i missed you more.” eventually, you found your waist pressed against a lone desk while wonyoung continues to kiss you. you were topless now, what with wonyoung discarding your white shirt somewhere on the floor.

“w-what if ms. kim comes in…?” you asked when you felt wonyoung’s hand sliding up your thigh. surely she won’t be as careless as last time, right? the two of you were barely hiding! the curtains didn’t leave much to the imagination and the door was only halfway closed… if you weren’t careful with your mouth, some unlucky soul passing by will catch the two of you and you really don’t know if you can handle more of that. maybe you were naive to expect wonyoung to change within two weeks, because right after you asked your stupid little question, wonyoung had pulled down your panties and unclasped your bra from behind. goodness, she works fast.

the tall girl decided not to waste time and completely disregarded your question. “up.” she taps your hip, urging you to sit on top of the desk behind you. as you were getting yourself settled, wonyoung takes the opportunity to stare at you. you were as cute as ever—flushed cheeks, messy hair, lips quivering, and pretty eyes glossy with anticipation, even though you tried to disguise it with uncertainty. wonyoung couldn’t believe how easy it has been to knock down your defenses. she was so sure that even she, the jang wonyoung, was going to get rejected and embarrassed for the very first time in that library, given your reputation as a hardass.

but alas, she always gets what she wants in the end. as she should!

you pull wonyoung closer, eager to feel her lips on yours again. then she allows you to kiss her, doing the same exact thing as last time—staying still and letting you do what you want. wonyoung noticed that your kiss was softer, more careful. you were holding her face so gently, caressing her cheek with your thumb before letting your hands fall to her shoulders, giving the control back to her. it warmed her heart in a way that took her by surprise, but that was nothing compared to the pure amusement she felt when she caught you untying her ribbon.

“you’re brave today, hm?” wonyoung whispered with a smirk. she doesn’t stop you, though! she holds your stare as you let her ribbon drop to the ground, and then you start unbuttoning her shirt so excruciatingly slow. you stopped halfway through, only getting to see a little bit of wonyoung’s crimson red bra before putting your lips on her neck. and finally, for the first time, you heard her whimper.

you couldn’t see it as you were busy kissing her neck, but wonyoung was a blushing mess. she never whimpers! but with your sudden courage and the way you left the softest and sweetest kisses on her neck, wonyoung couldn’t hide it. “are you… marking me up?” wonyoung asked with a giggle.

immediately, you stopped, staring at her with half-widened eyes. “is that okay…?”

wonyoung would’ve called you stupid if the sound of her own loud heartbeat didn’t render her speechless. “don’t tell me you’re going to ask for permission if you so much as want to put your hand on my waist or something.” wonyoung said. she can imagine it clearly in her head, actually! you were too polite for your own good.

“well, consent is important—”

“yeah, yeah. how about you use that pretty mouth of yours for something worth my time, dummy?” wonyoung urges you to kiss her again, craning her neck to give you access. and you did it happily! you were so obviously excited that even wonyoung thought it was endearing, laughing lightly as you gently sucked on her soft skin. you did that for a while. how could you stop, anyway? the mix of wonyoung’s sighs, feeling her thin, dainty fingers smoothly threading your hair, and her other hand laying still on your thigh, squeezing ever so often when you do something she likes… well, suffice to say that it was almost impossible to stop.

leaning back, you stare at your work. the sight of your marks on wonyoung’s neck only made your core buzz, making you not-so-subtly close your legs. wonyoung regains her composure, eyes darkened once again before she forces her legs open, one hand slowly sliding deeper up your inner thighs while the other keeps your legs apart. “since you’ve had your fun… naturally, it’s my turn now, correct?” and of course you were nodding your head eagerly like an obedient pet, just how she likes it.

your breath gets caught in your throat when wonyoung cups one of your breasts in her hand, her face dangerously close to the other one, more than ready to pleasure you. “i was thinking of being nice since i missed you… but you made me upset with your stupid tantrum over the last time we fucked,” wonyoung feigns a smile and a shiver runs down your spine. “so, to truly make it up to me… you’re going to take  everything i’m giving to you today.”

scary. terrifying even, but how could you say no? the (y/n) of two hours ago would be really disappointed of you but fuck it. wonyoung’s got you wrapped around her finger once again and you’re going to let it happen again.

only moans escape your lips as wonyoung’s warm mouth closes around your nipple. a new sensation, and it was wonderful. you found yourself hugging wonyoung’s neck, pushing her face impossibly closer while she licked and sucked as she pleases. your cunt clenches around nothing, and you buck your hips slightly just to urge wonyoung to touch you down there even a little bit but you should’ve expected that she wouldn’t care about that. her hands were rather busy! one played with your other nipple while the other held your thigh in a grip so tight that it almost hurt.

wonyoung releases your nipple from her mouth, her lips now attacking your chest area with little bites. you weren’t opposed to it. in fact, the frustrated look on wonyoung’s face was a delight to see! “should’ve known you were going to be a pussy about it all… wouldn’t have waited up all night for your text if i did.” wonyoung tightens her grip on your thigh, making you wince. but the pain was quickly overshadowed by pleasure as the tall girl pulled on your nipple.

“how was i supposed to accept that you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore…? you were screaming my name so sweetly in the library… and i was in your head after all of that, right?” wonyoung briefly lets go of your thigh to pull your hair down, forcing you to meet her eyes. “i know you did… in the end, the campus’ smart goody-two-shoes is just a fucking slut in the making, isn’t she?”

wonyoung’s eyes shine with excitement upon seeing you look at her so desperately. she knew that you’d never take any insult if you were in your right mind… and it only turned her on when you said nothing to her, your head so clouded that you’d allow wonyoung to say anything she wants to you. the tall girl spreads your legs apart, staring at your glistening pussy before her hungry eyes pierce back into your own. “and to think that you wanted to leave when you’re all drenched like this! what would you have done if i let you go? surely not touch yourself,” wonyoung laughs, but it was a cold and mocking one. your cheeks flush with embarrassment since she was right—you can’t bear to touch yourself, which is why you’re so desperate to have her fuck you already. “you need me, and i want a pretty doll i can play with however i like. let’s help each other out, (y/n)-ah.”

wonyoung doesn’t wait for you to say anything (of course she doesn’t) and starts massaging your clit with her thumb. you gasped at the sensation, holding onto her arms and almost closing your legs up. you try to control your sounds this time around, all that left your mouth were the usual pathetic whimpering and panting but at least you weren’t loud! wonyoung didn’t like that, though. she presses her thumb harder against your clit, making you whine loudly. “that’s more like it.” the tall girl muttered under her breath. the longer she pleasured your clit, the sooner you were losing control of yourself. and eventually you were just giving into what your body wants—grinding against wonyoung’s hand, pulling her closer so you can kiss her…

you gasped sharply as wonyoung plunged her two fingers inside your cunt, and she was giggling at how you were wrinkling her shirt up due to how tight you were holding onto her. fuck did it feel good to be filled up. when wonyoung curls her long fingers inside you, you clamped your hand over your mouth, afraid of alerting anyone who may be lurking around. annoyed, wonyoung swats your hand away, “come on, i don’t want to punish you so early.” none of what she was saying went through to your head. and it wasn’t even because you were trying to be a disobedient brat but because of her pace.

she snaps her wrist with each thrust, enough to make sure that you feel every inch of her fingers inside you before pulling out. it was hard to focus on anything, even more so when wonyoung’s pretty brown eyes were raking all over your body, getting familiar with your features once again. it wasn’t everyday something catches her eye so easily, but when she entered that secluded room in the library and had the luxury of staring at you while you were asleep, she was charmed. not even she thought that she would have you on top of this table merely two weeks later—writhing under her touch and moaning her name, but wonyoung quite liked this outcome.

why, after you were so good for her the first time she fucked you, you’ve been on her mind!

“a-ah..! wonyoung…” your sweet voice snaps the tall girl back to reality. you’ve completely wrapped your arms around her neck now, how precious. wonyoung puts her lips to work, wanting to taste your skin once again. and that she does! giving you kisses from your cheek, to your jawline, to the crook of your neck and all that the way down to your chest. conveniently, the desk was long enough for wonyoung to be able to pull you down so you’d be lying back comfortably. she towers above you, a grin on her lips as she watches you try to hold on to your climax.

it was so glaringly obvious that you were close. with the way your walls clenched around wonyoung’s fingers, a few more thrusts should do it. and that made wonyoung way more upset than you can imagine. there was no way you were going to make this so short, right? but she feels it. not only have you dug your nails on her free wrist trying to hold onto her, you’ve also started whining very loudly. wonyoung, annoyed, wriggles out of your painful hold and shoves her thumb inside your mouth, effectively shutting you up. drool starts dripping down along your jawline—wonyoung wasn’t going to let you off easy judging by how she pressed her thumb flat and hard down on your tongue.

“we’re gonna make this last, baby,” wonyoung says. she sees the tears pooling in your eyes and it only makes her feel warm inside. she was getting so excited to have her way with you, and a few tears wouldn’t stop her. “and everyone’s going to know again. i know you don’t like that but this time… they’ll know you’re mine.”

wonyoung didn’t plan on saying that last part out loud but thankfully enough, you were way too busy moaning her name to even hear it. a knot tightens in your stomach and you gasp, the sensation becoming all too familiar with you now. wonyoung pulls her thumb out of your mouth and slowly slides a third finger inside your cunt—and then there it was.

“aww…” wonyoung cooed as you came all over her hand. but she doesn’t stop any of her movements. instead, she leans down, catching one of your nipples with her mouth and continuing on fingering you through your orgasm.

“f-fuck..! wonyoung, w-wait…!!” you clawed helplessly at her back. amidst your hopeless whining and moaning, wonyoung just giggles. her eyes flicker up to get a brief glance of your face, her own core clenching at how tight you’ve closed your eyes, how you’ve bitten your lower lip to the point of it hurting. she absolutely loved getting to see you undone piece by piece… even more so when you allow it to happen. which is what you finally do as you bury your hands in wonyoung’s hair, pushing her further down your chest and whimpering sweetly at every flick of her tongue on your nipples.

wonyoung wasn’t letting her hand rest, however. she keeps fingering you in a semi-fast pace, hoping to edge you closer to another orgasm. clearly, she was taking advantage of your dazed state and in all honesty, of her own adrenaline-driven state. in her right mind, she would have let you cum the first time and stop there since she knew you can’t handle too much of what she can really give you but god… wonyoung just has to see you fall apart completely under her.

“someone learned a few things from last time, hm?” wonyoung teased as she gently massaged your clit in circles with her thumb. “you’re taking it so well. good.”

you gasped loudly as she plunges her fingers knuckle-deep inside your walls again, now thrusting faster than ever. wonyoung completely gets lost at the feeling of your warmth around her fingers. with her towering above you, she was distracting enough for your mind to wander elsewhere. every so often you’d notice the way she slightly bit her lower lip, whimper quietly, and huff as she fucked you… and as your eyes trail down lower (as low as you could, anyway), you saw that the tall girl had been clenching her thighs together. gods, wonyoung looked so hot being desperate like this.

it made you blush, how much she wanted to feel as good as she was making you feel good. next time, you are going to make sure to return the favor. it was what she deserves, as much of a pain in the ass she was.

“are you okay, (y/n)…?” wonyoung, concerned that you have spaced out, asked. her thrusts have slowed and her eyes are now softer.

you nodded meekly, “yes, mommy.” the nickname slipped out so naturally that it caught wonyoung off guard. and was she… blushing? flustered, even?

(wonyoung wouldn’t even know where to start if someone were to ask about the hold you have on her. it almost sucks that you don’t know about it, but wonyoung’s pride wouldn’t let her admit it outright. not yet, anyway.)

“we’re almost done.” wonyoung regains her composure. she completely pins one of your wrists down with her free hand, the other ramming inside your walls out of control, and her forehead nearly touching yours while you moaned helplessly. with your one hand, you clutched the edge of the desk, refusing to hurt wonyoung any further because you knew you would make her blood had you decided to hold onto her with the way she was abusing your pussy. wonyoung chuckles slightly at how smoothly her fingers went in and out of you—her hand was completely drenched in your cum and wetness. she was practically drooling at the thought of getting to taste you.

wonyoung would rather do it from the source, but she knew you wouldn’t be able to handle her mouth. not at this state. and not with all the things she wants to do to you with her tongue alone.

she feels you clenching around her again, and she watches as tears squeeze out of your eyes. she kisses them away, whispering some comforting words in your ear before she thrusts her fingers knuckle-deep inside you. wonyoung intertwines your fingers since she knew you’d need it as you came all over her hand once again. unlike last time, wonyoung makes sure her hand is still, only pulling out as you’ve started to calm down a little. your eyes wandered all over the ceiling, still trying to get a sense of things. you could feel wonyoung’s eyes on you though, but you couldn’t tell what she was doing.

so ‘surprised’ would be an understatement when you feel her clothed, wet cunt pressed against your knee. wonyoung smiles bashfully as she slightly grinds her clit on your knee. hell, she nearly fucked you into unconsciousness—she shouldn’t have anything to be afraid of doing now. even if she has to become this spectacle for you.

“j-just need to… do something about this.” wonyoung says. her voice was a bit higher from her whines, obviously feeling so good that she can’t help but show this new side of herself. underneath her, you were a bit rattled but completely flustered and quite confused as to what you should do. not that you could do anything, anyway. you couldn’t really feel your legs and your head was still getting itself situated. you were basically watching wonyoung grind herself into you… and it was heaven.

wonyoung meets your stare and grins, “liking the show, babe?” she teased. she giggled when you covered your face with your other hand, you were so red. but you were brazen enough to raise your knee slightly and pressed it against her clit, making her moan out loud for the first time. a smile of satisfaction spreads on your face—you finally heard wonyoung make that kind of sound!

“cheeky little doll.” wonyoung says before leaning down and kissing you. she stops her grinding, having had enough for now and slowly pulls you to sit up, carefully.

much like the last time this happened, nothing much was said afterwards. you were merely hugging wonyoung while you recovered, and you’d smile every time you felt her leave feathery-light kisses across your shoulder and draw random circles on your lower back. wonyoung allowed you to hold her for as long as you needed, never worrying about how the sky has turned orange or the supposed project she was assigned to start today for ms. kim. a gust of wind seeps through the slightly open windows and you shiver. 

finally, wonyoung pulled away. “let’s get you dressed up. ms. kim should be on her way anyway.” she helps you stand on both feet and picks up the random pieces of clothing scattered around the area, almost scolding herself for throwing them around haphazardly. wonyoung was the one who buttons up your shirt, makes sure your skirt is all nice and tidy, ties up your ribbon perfectly, and styles your hair as if it was never a mess. and then she decides that you would look cute with a bit of lip tint—but also because you needed a good excuse to give people if they so happen to ask you why your lips were so red and fucked up.

you stayed still as wonyoung dolled you up. it was strange though, because at this point, she has fucked you three times and you’ve bravely looked at her in the eye then but now you can’t. every time her eyes flicker over to yours, you blink and set them elsewhere. you can’t tell her about how your pussy clenches under her gaze. you can’t tell her that if she does something so simple as this, helping a fellow girl to look presentable, it turns you on. and it probably wasn’t even because nice-and-friendly wonyoung was a rarity! it was because of that damn crush. and how you can still feel her hands all over you but ugh, you’re so tired of coming to that conclusion. 

you get it: you are morbidly obsessed with how wonyoung makes you feel! god, can i be any more pathetic?

“you’ll text me this time, right?” wonyoung asks after she is done. she has also gotten herself look as perfect as she always does. 

“i can’t exactly escape you now, can i?”

“mhm! glad you’re aware of that.” wonyoung puts on an exaggerated smile, but really, she was excited. 

you then pulled out your phone and sent wonyoung a simple ‘hi’ text message. “there. happy?” you mimicked her fake smile.

“ecstatic, actually.” wonyoung replied with a straight face as she stared blankly at your useless message. she saves your number and suddenly snaps a quick photo of you without warning, setting it as her contact photo for you. when you tried to sneak a peek, wonyoung moved away from you with a laugh, and saved your name as ‘dum’ on her phone, even waving it all over your face and laughing even more at your disgruntled reaction. how mature… and endearing.

when silence started to fill the air, you almost wanted to ask wonyoung a few things about this whole… thing. whatever it was. as much as you liked the whole doll talk earlier, you didn’t exactly understand it. were the two of you going to be friends-with-benefits now? well, more like barely-acquaintances-with-benefits. was wonyoung going to make a habit of cornering you at some isolated place and fuck you? because really, you‘d prefer a small warning before she starts using you. confused as you were, you didn’t let a word slip. you just stood there, watching wonyoung as she put up an empty canvas on the easel.

“is it okay if i rest for a bit before leaving?” you asked in a quiet voice. wonyoung nods as she pulls her hair up for a half-ponytail, only briefly looking at your figure as you walk past her to sit on the instructor’s chair at the front of the classroom.

“i’d insist on taking you home but you seem to adore public transportation.” wonyoung quipped from behind her canvas.

“you’d only find some excuse to touch me again in your car so yes, maybe i prefer taking the bus rather than that.” you replied. attempting to avoid thinking about wonyoung’s hands all over you while you sat on the passenger seat of her car was futile, thank goodness she was focused on whatever project she was working on.

“thanks for the idea.” oh you just knew wonyoung had a stupid smile on her face thinking about it all. that pervert!

although you would be lying if you said you weren’t into the idea, but that was something the two of you should save for much, much later.

for the rest of your time there, you merely sat on ms. kim’s chair. sometimes you watched wonyoung even though you couldn’t see much of her face. occasionally, however, she would peek from above the canvas to check on you and you wouldn’t look away like you usually would. you would hold her gaze, smiling softly before gazing at the setting sun outside. the only thing that was on your mind was how everything has changed now. whether it was for the better or for worse, you couldn’t tell yet.

there was no use dwelling on it. you simply have to see where things go. one thing was for sure though: jang wonyoung wasn’t going to be out of your life so easily.

you pondered on that chair for a while before you finally decided to leave. you promised wonyoung that you would text her as soon as you got home, and you knew that even though she barely gave you a glance since she was so focused, she was happy that you promised that. while you headed for the door, you felt wonyoung’s eyes follow you until you were completely gone. but even as you walked through the empty hallways once again the hair on the back of your neck stood on end and you found yourself stopping in your tracks completely on top of a flight of stairs.

“that… really all just happened. again.” you mumbled. ugh, your ears felt hot. your cheeks too. matter of fact, your entire body was just warm.

“what happened?” a chipper voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin. ms. kim has suddenly appeared beside you. you hadn’t noticed that she was already there when you turned to the corner.

“o-oh! ms. kim, hello,” you greeted, hand clutching your chest. “ah, right. i dropped off your lunch bag. ms. lim said you forgot it earlier.”

“really? thank you, (y/n). she must be very busy if she couldn’t visit me herself. i’ll make sure to tell her that you did well delivering my food.” the art teacher pats your shoulder. her smile was striking and infectious—no wonder ms. lim always looked so lovesick around her!

“no need. it’s no problem at all,” you glanced at the giant clock on the other side of the wall and felt panic rise from the bottom of your stomach. “my bus should be making its way to the stop now. have a good day, ms. kim!” and so you were off to running as fast as you could to catch your ride, leaving the art teacher baffled but quite amused at the stairs.

“never seen (y/n) a bit loose in the head like that before.”

inside the art room, wonyoung has gotten busy. the tiniest specks of paint decorated her face, her hands had become quite the mess but what mattered was the picture she was creating. she was quite surprised with herself. only earlier did she feel that familiar rush of creating something with efficiency—when she was painting you. she was feeling it again, and it was great. it has been quite some time before she felt that rush. as rich her mind was with concepts, wonyoung found it hard to materialize them in a painting for some reason. maybe she was just lazy. maybe the pictures in her head just weren’t clear enough.

but somehow you of all people—of all things, really—made it all so very clear.

“ah, the things a good pussy does to the human mind.” wonyoung laughs at her own words. she couldn’t wait to bother you all night long later.

“i knew it!”

once again, ms. kim has surprised a student. fortunately enough, wonyoung didn’t make a mistake and only flinched slightly. “hello, ms. kim.” the tall girl greeted. she doesn’t take her eyes off her canvas since she knew that the teacher was already sauntering towards her with that contagious energy she always has.

“wow. i half expected you to be struggling for inspiration as usual but you actually got somewhere!” ms. kim pats wonyoung’s head, very much satisfied at wonyoung’s progress with her work. oddly enough, wonyoung found herself blushing deeply letting ms. kim look at a personal piece from her so freely. not that she gave a fuck about keeping up her reputation even with the teachers, but jang wonyoung was nothing if not so stubbornly prideful.

because no! she cannot bear being teased about painting (y/n) (l/n) for the second time in the same day!

“is that…”

wonyoung’s blush get deeper. here it comes.

“she did say she came by this room… i see!” ms. kim laughs and nudges wonyoung’s arm, teasing the girl as if she was some kid who was having a crush for the first time in her life. incorrect, by the way! because jang wonyoung doesn’t do crushes. 

the art teacher leans back and allows herself to fully take in her student’s work. it was a beautiful painting of you, surrounded by orange and yellow colors, looking lost in thought as you gazed out the window. your face was slightly obscured by the curtain, similar to the previous painting of you that she has done. perhaps a clue as to how wonyoung truly sees you.

“never thought you’d want a muse, wonyoung! but she’s not just that, is she?”

wonyoung settles her palette and paintbrush on an empty stool, exhaling and stretching her sore shoulders. now, she wasn’t the one getting fucked but damn, did you exhaust her too! it was in the good way at least, so wonyoung can’t really be mad at you. with you in her sick little head, wonyoung offers a mischievous smile to her teacher, “my cute little secret is what she is.”

[jujutsubaby]

⛓️ lonely at the top ⛓️

☆ pairing: satoru gojo x afab!reader x true form!sukuna ☆ summary: you are the great ryomen sukuna's favorite healer from the heian era, reincarnated in the modern time. for centuries, you have also been his favorite lover. but when sukuna returns one day with a shockingly handsome blue-eyed sorcerer, you cannot help but feel threatened. no matter what sukuna's plans are for this newcomer, however, you're willing to do whatever it takes to stay on top. ☆ tags: slight canon divergence, smut with a lil plot ¬‿¬ ☆ warnings: MINORS DNI!!!! handjob, oral sex (m/f!receiving; yes this includes sukuna's abdomen mouth lmao); voyeurism; exhibitionism; fingering; p in v; anal; overstimulation; masturbation ☆ a/n: ok the promised (and voted upon) sukugo fic is FINALLY here my loves :3 i had to add reader in the mix too though bc girls just wanna have fun. also writing this kinda made me a sukuna truther :/ maybe i understand gege and sukuna kaisen just a little bit more now :/ ANYWAY ENJOY!!! ☆ wc: 8k

when you had heard of Lord Sukuna's imminent duel with the infamous Satoru Gojo, you knew it would be prudent to practice your Reverse Cursed Technique. you had always been Lord Sukuna's favorite healer (among other things), but that had been the Heian Era. this new time was as foreign and strange to you as the delicate new body into which you had been reincarnated.

and so, when Lord Sukuna re-enters the compound you share with his other most trusted servants and loudly calls for you, you are prepared. flexing your practiced fingers and preparing to channel positive cursed energy, you hurry to the threshold from which his voice had emanated and immediately sink to a kneeling position, your head turned to the floor. as expected, Lord Sukuna had come straight to the healing quarters.

"you summoned me, Lord Sukuna?"

Lord Sukuna approaches you; his footsteps sound heavy and slow. he is exhausted, you can tell, but he does not seem grievously injured as you had expected. so why did he call for you?

your head still inclined downwards, you stifle a gasp as you notice rivulets of blood darkening the floor beneath you and staining your pristine robes.

"you will heal him," Lord Sukuna says simply. you hear a heavy thud hitting the bed you had prepared so carefully for your lord. actually, mystifyingly, you hear two thuds. you chance a glance upwards, and your heart drops when you see that Lord Sukuna has indeed deposited severed halves of some unfortunate sorcerer's body onto the bed. from his pallor, you can tell he has already lost quite a lot of blood. this is beyond any healing you have ever performed in any era. you briefly wonder whether your beloved lord is setting you up to fail when he speaks up.

"i trust you understand that failure is not an option."

"yes, my lord."

"y/n," he says more quietly. you nearly shudder at the sound of his tongue lavishing attention on your name. "i keep you in my employ because you are the only healer worthy of serving me."

it is a statement of arrogance, but it is also one of reassurance. someone who has served as his trusted servant for as long as you have learns how to understand his sometimes esoteric cues.

you feel a firm hand grip your jaw and tilt your face upwards. you are greeted by a sight you have not seen in centuries: Lord Sukuna in his true form, in all his magnificence. his tattoos stand starkly against his glistening torso. his arms, now four in number as you recall, are corded with muscle; the grip his massive hand has on your face could easily crush your windpipe — and yet, it does not. it never would, so long as you serve your purpose. you cannot help but bask in his glowing charisma. this was the sorcerer you were so proud to serve.

"it is my honor to serve you, my lord. i will heal the sorcerer, i swear it."

noticing your desirous eyes raking over his form, his cruel mouth forms a lazy smirk, which is mirrored in the mouth of his stomach. the effect is equal parts unnerving and disarming.

"come, y/n," Lord Sukuna says, pleased with your reaction to his true form. "let us see your patient for the evening." he seizes your shoulders with his second set of arms, and indelicately pulls you to your feet before marching you towards the bed.

Lord Sukuna must still be unused to inhabiting his true body after possessing so many weak mortal vessels, you muse, for he is being far rougher with you than usual. you find that you do not mind, however. in spite of the grave situation, you feel heat embarrassingly beginning to pool at the apex of your thighs at the feel of Lord Sukuna's thick fingers and their crushing grip on your narrow shoulders.

the man in the bed is muscular, although nowhere close to Lord Sukuna's physique. that said, he looks youthful, and strong enough to have put up a good fight. perhaps he would even be strong enough to recover from his horrendous injuries under your expert healing hands.

but who was this man? why was Lord Sukuna so insistent upon healing him? and how was he injured like this in the first place?

your eyes wander to his upper half, and you pause on his face. handsome, with delicate features and a shock of messy white hair. his eyes are slightly agape, and you note that they are the uncommon blue of a summer sea.

blue?

you gasp in spite of yourself and turn to your master, momentarily forgetting that propriety dictates that you not maintain eye contact with someone so many levels above yourself.

"forgive me, Lord Sukuna, but...Satoru Gojo?"

Lord Sukuna does not seem to mind your lapse in etiquette, as he meets your gaze with a grin.

"he put up a marvelous fight. talent like that should not be extinguished, even though most sorcerers doubtlessly dream of being defeated by somebody like the great Sukuna," he says.

Lord Sukuna was always able to make such grandiose statements about himself that would sound asinine coming from any mere man. with the great Lord Sukuna, statements like these are simply the truth. he has always been so far above any human you have known, which is why his fascination with Satoru Gojo is leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. mortal humans, including you, need to know their place. that maxim should include Satoru Gojo, too.

Lord Sukuna's voice shakes you from your reverie. "oh, and y/n?" his normally commanding voice is alarmingly soft, and laced with...something. something typically reserved for his favorites, like you.

"yes, Lord Sukuna?" you ask, carefully keeping your head angled downwards towards the bed so as not to repeat your earlier eye contact gaffe.  

you watch as Lord Sukuna reaches a hand out towards Satoru Gojo's listless face to slap the young man's elegant cheek.

"do be gentle with your technique. i want this one staying pretty for me."

ah.

so that was why Lord Sukuna had taken such pains to rescue Satoru Gojo.

with that, Lord Sukuna turns on his heel and leaves you to your patient.

you anticipated healing Gojo's injuries to be your greatest challenge yet, but it is far more taxing than you ever could have known. your Reverse Cursed Technique was meant for healing injuries, but what had happened with Gojo's body was almost beyond an injury.

it had taken you hours in the first place to even figure out a way to use your RCT in this situation, until you had realized that delicate threads of cursed energy still emanated from Gojo's body. even if it was physically severed, his cursed energy still lived, if only barely. it is a testament to the sheer magnitude of Gojo's cursed energy that some still survives; no wonder he had impressed Lord Sukuna so.

you use your RCT to trace the threads of cursed energy from one half of Gojo's body to the other; in doing so, you are able to treat the severing merely as a thinning of cursed energy, and thus as an injury rather than a full separation. you breathe a sigh of relief as you observe one thread of his torso knit itself back together under your watchful eye.

now to repeat the process for the entire circumference of his body. you stretch and sigh; this would be a long night. at least you have a way forward now, though. disappointing Lord Sukuna was never an option.

as you continue reconnecting the flesh and gristle that makes up Satoru Gojo, you find yourself increasingly unable to ignore his objective beauty. as a healer, you always possessed great admiration for the physical form, and Satoru Gojo just happened to be a prime specimen. perhaps the fact that Lord Sukuna had found him to be a worthy adversary (and prize, you remind yourself) also influenced your judgment.

you feel a strange intermingling of lust, jealousy, and envy at the thought. you are well aware that Lord Sukuna has a prodigious sexual appetite that requires countless mortals to satisfy, but you have long been secure in your position as his favorite plaything. now, however, compared to Satoru Gojo, you cannot be so certain; he possesses beauty and power in spades. 

you shake your head. this is neither the time nor the place to be evaluating Lord Sukuna’s judgment; favorite or not, it is your duty to complete the task he so graciously entrusted you with. you are not sure of how long you continue to sew Satoru Gojo’s body back together, but you are aware that the sun’s citrus glow has long faded.

Lord Sukuna had always reminded you of the sun, although you have never been bold enough to tell him such a silly romanticism. but in its radiant beauty, burning power, and distance alike, you see your liege. much like the sun, Lord Sukuna had shone on you, and in his light, you had blossomed. you had been an obscure village herbalist’s apprentice until he had found you; you had hardly even been aware of your latent healing powers. it had been Lord Sukuna who had seen your immense potential, and who had honed your sorcery to the level it was today.

even the fact that he had burned down your village the day he whisked you away had done little to dim your fervent gratitude.

the moon begins to rise higher in the night sky now, its light filtering through the shuttered windows of the healing quarters as you continue working. Satoru Gojo’s natural beauty takes on an ethereal glow when bathed in moonlight. the battle between him and Lord Sukuna must have been a sight to behold; as you reconnect his body, you feel his cursed energy growing and twisting into itself with taut strength. 

Finally, when his halves become whole again, you sit back and admire your handiwork. The full moon that night meant you did not require a lantern, but the moon is setting now, and you want to give Satoru Gojo’s body a final check. 

as you rise to leave the room for a lantern, you feel a hand clasp firmly about your wrist. you gasp softly. 

“have i died? am i dead right now?” Satoru Gojo’s voice is hoarse with disuse. you had not expected him to be conscious again yet given the state of him; you suppose the fact that he is is a testament both to your healing ability and to his innate strength. 

you sit back down, noticing that he does not loosen his grip on your wrist. 

“you are still alive, Satoru Gojo, for i have healed your wounds,” you reply matter of factly. 

his blue eyes, now that they are fully open and conscious, are even more shocking than they were when you first glimpsed them earlier that day. they seem to glow from within; they look like they hold full worlds within their depths. 

“that’s weird,” Gojo continues. “i could’ve sworn i died and went to heaven seeing as i’m looking at an angel right now.” only when you see that he is grinning impishly at you do you realize he is flirting with you. 

your lip curls in distaste, and you extricate your hand from his grasp.

“i am no angel. i am a sorcerer, as you are. you were as good as dead, split clean in half, but i channeled my Reverse Cursed Technique to heal you,” you conclude with pride. 

Gojo looks down at his stomach, shiny and pink with fresh scar tissue. 

“you must be some sorcerer, then. i was positive i was a goner back there. i’m not sure even Shoko could’ve healed me like this. really nice work,” he muses. he is right, of course. you are unsure of who Shoko is, but Gojo is correct that very few sorcerers could heal such severe injuries. all the same, you loathe the warmth you feel at his admiration; Lord Sukuna’s confidence should be enough for you.

“anyway,” Gojo continues, “who are you exactly? where am i?” 

“Lord Sukuna brought you here,” you say. “I am his healer.”

surely the mention of his formidable foe would shake Gojo’s arrogance. you relish the fear that Lord Sukuna’s name seems to inspire in other mortals. 

this was unfortunately not the case with Gojo. 

“that’s sweet, the ol’ guy wanted me healed up, huh?” 

you bristle. “you will address Lord Sukuna with respect!”   

Gojo merely laughs at your response, which infuriates you further. “i, for one, fail to see why he deigned to save such an insolent whelp like you,” you snap, succumbing to your rising temper.

“really?” Gojo asks, his blue eyes full of mirth. “guess you don’t get the old guy the way i do. i’m pretty sure I understand why he wanted me alive.”

“then be so kind as to enlighten me,” you say sardonically. 

“i’ve been the strongest sorcerer around for basically my whole life,” Gojo says. in spite of the sarcasm in your voice when you asked him to explain himself, he seems sincere. “fighting Sukuna was the first time i felt even remotely challenged. he even technically beat me, i guess.” 

he watches you, waiting for you to respond. when you are still silent, he continues.

“i’m sure he feels the same way i do. i know i challenged him the way he challenged me, and for sorcerers at our level, finding a true adversary is hard.  once you do find one, letting go can be just as hard.” Gojo sounds wistful; you wonder if he speaks from experience. 

“i guess what i’m saying is that it’s lonely at the top,” he finishes; his earlier amusement is gone, and he seems somber now. 

you find that you pity Gojo. to be a sorcerer can be a lonesome existence. Lord Sukuna, while alone in his caliber, at least has you and his other servants and devotees to warm and distract him. does Satoru Gojo have anyone?

you reach a hand forward and begin tracing the planes of his pale face with your fingers. he lacks Lord Sukuna’s raw power, but his beauty is exquisite. Gojo leans into your comforting touch. 

“how can i ever thank you for bringing me back to life?” he murmurs. as your hand passes near his lips, he stills it with his own and kisses it softly. 

you gasp sharply and withdraw your hand as though burned. 

“that was wrong,” you say urgently. “you cannot touch me like that.”

Gojo sighs. “you really are devoted to that old man, aren’t you?” 

“we both belong to Lord Sukuna,” you reply, emphasizing his proper title. “you must respect his authority over us both.” 

“maybe you belong to Sukuku,” Gojo says; you cringe at his inane nickname for Lord Sukuna, but you suppose anything is better than merely calling him an old man. “i, on the other hand, only belong to me, myself, and i.” 

you exhale in irritation. no matter how great a sorcerer Satoru Gojo is, his arrogance is certainly grating. part of you wishes you had left him severed in two — at least he was quieter that way. you recall Lord Sukuna once saying that the greatest sorcerers always seemed to possess even greater mental eccentricities; Satoru Gojo certainly proves that theory.

to your annoyance, as he speaks, he takes your hand in his again. you are bemused to find, however, that you do not wish to remove it. his hands are wiry, yet so powerful. there is power within your hands as well, you muse as you intertwine your fingers almost instinctively. your irritation, admiration, and pride are all coalescing into a confusing burn of…passion. how inconvenient. 

 “you are rather presumptuous, are you not?” comes a voice from the doorway. you gasp and tear your hand from Gojo’s once more, immediately prostrating yourself before Lord Sukuna. Gojo makes no move to even bow his head, meanwhile. typical.

“rise, y/n,” Lord Sukuna continues. “you must be giving our guest a rather unsavory impression of me with your theatrics.” slowly, you raise your face from the floor and see Lord Sukuna has crouched before you. he takes your face in one of his hands. you shiver — it has been so long since you have felt the touch of his true form. “am i not a benevolent master to you?” he murmurs; his face is so close that you can feel his warm, humid breath on the shell of your ear. it is all you can do not to tremble from desire. 

with you still reeling from the close contact, Lord Sukuna rises smoothly back to his feet and saunters to Gojo’s bedside. 

“you seem in high spirits, Satoru Gojo. i feared i had gone too far with you,” Lord Sukuna says, his tone casual as though he had not cloven the younger man’s body in two just hours earlier.

“oh, i can take much more than that, old man,” Gojo says, innuendo easily discernible from his tone. you cannot stop yourself from rolling your eyes; from what you had seen thus far, Satoru Gojo seemed to flirt with everybody he meets. that said, the image of Lord Sukuna and Satoru Gojo, of what Gojo’s playful tone was implying…your mind’s eye is running amok, loathe as you are to admit it. doubtlessly Lord Sukuna’s true form and the sleepless stress of the evening are perverting your mind in unforeseen ways, you reassure yourself.

Lord Sukuna seems tickled by Gojo’s irreverence, and you try not to feel envious. “is that so?” he inquires. 

“a credit to your lovely healer, i gotta say,” Gojo continues, his shocking blue eyes twinkling as they meet yours. “she has a rare talent. you sure you need her? i have half a mind to take her with me when we’re done here.” 

you know Gojo is being insufferable right now, and moreover irreverent to Lord Sukuna. you know that. but he’s just so handsome, and so appreciative, and so talented in his own right…you feel powerless to stop the breath from catching in your throat, flustered at his attention. 

you find yourself thinking about how his smooth skin felt beneath your touch; cool, then warm as you breathed life back into him with your reverse cursed technique. taut, pulsating with the cursed power and blood in his veins. 

so lost are you in your meditations of Gojo’s flesh that you nearly miss what Lord Sukuna replies.

“y/n certainly is a first rate sorcerer,” he says, flinging a fond look over his shoulder at you; predictably, you preen at his praise. 

“what i enjoy most about y/n’s skill,” he continues, “is her fastidiousness. she leaves no stone unturned. in healing, jujutsu sorcery…and everything else. isn’t that right?” he asks you. 

“y-you are too kind, Lord Sukuna,” you bluster, trembling like a newborn fawn. you are usually so comfortable with him, but the presence of a stranger is making you look upon Lord Sukuna with new eyes again. 

“and i trust you have been equally thorough with our guest?” Lord Sukuna proceeds. 

“of course, Lord Sukuna.” 

“how disappointing to hear you lie to me, y/n,” Lord Sukuna tuts. “i know you have not been fully attentive to Satoru Gojo’s recovery.” 

your face grows hot. what did you do wrong? you take pride in your work, after all; you would never do a sloppy job no matter the patient, but especially not for one so important to Lord Sukuna.

“my lord? i am afraid i misunderstand you. i have followed only the most careful healing protocols,” you say; this is as close as you dare come to talking back. Lord Sukuna is kind and merciful and great, but much like the fire he commands, his warmth can flare uncontrollably and singe everything in its vicinity if you are not cautious. 

 “have you made absolutely sure, for example, that Satoru Gojo’s new body is completely functional?” Lord Sukuna prods. he has now turned to face you. one set of his arms is crossed over his chest, while the other is crossed behind his back. his face looks stern, but the mouth on his stomach betrays a smirk. 

“Satoru Gojo seems to be functioning as i would expect, my lord,” you reply.

“show me,” he says, stepping aside from Satoru Gojo’s bed. his body had been obscuring Gojo from your view, but you see now that the younger sorcerer has been watching the exchange with a hungry grin. there is clearly a subtext you are missing, but you dare not speculate what it is. 

you approach Gojo and perform an examination of his body, as you would any of your patients. you test his reflexes, and check his pupils’ dilation and contraction (during the latter, they look like just a pinprick lost in an ocean. nobody ever warned you of the six eyes’ beauty). when you palpate his ribs, he groans slightly; you feel the sound vibrate through your fingers.    

“he is recovering as i might expect, Lord Sukuna. of course, we must keep him under observation, but —” 

Lord Sukuna cuts you off with an impatient click of his tongue. “i will not tolerate your inattention to detail!” he growls. your heart starts beating violently, feeling like it’s throwing itself against your breast from within. 

you fight to keep your voice steady. 

“please forgive my stupidity, my lord,” you grovel, prostrating yourself once more. “i truly am unsure of what more you want me to check. please, if you could just help me, i promise this will never occur again.” 

you are mortified to feel the white-hot prickling of tears at the corners of your eyes. Lord Sukuna had never spoken to you this way, not even when you had just begun working for him. back then, you had known next to nothing compared to your knowledge now.  you rack your useless brain for something, anything, you might have missed, and come up empty. stupid, stupid girl. you just know this is the fault of Satoru Gojo, that irritating, gorgeous interloper. it is even more humiliating to be berated like this in his presence.

at Lord Sukuna’s silence, you direct your eyes as high as they can go from your position on the ground. you cannot see his face from this angle but you see his broad second mouth has gone from smirking to smiling outright with all its teeth. is he…not actually angry? 

you raise your head a little further, emboldened by the sight, and see Lord Sukuna himself smiling down at you, his two expressions identical. 

“what a pretty sight you make,” he coos, “on all fours looking up at me like that. my pliant, obedient girl.” 

he lowers one of his hands to cup himself through his loose pants, and you clench your thighs together; you are immune to neither the effect of his words, nor to the sight before you. 

he seamlessly bends down and raises you to your feet; as he holds you against him, it’s all you can do to hold yourself back from rutting against his massive body. but Lord Sukuna has always valued your restraint, and you know he has something planned for you. 

he rotates you now so your back is to him, and cages you tightly to his body with all four arms. you gasp; you have forgotten this delicious sensation, of being so thoroughly engulfed by Lord Sukuna that it is almost as if he has subsumed you entirely. he has turned you to face Gojo, who has been watching the scene unfold with great interest. you feel Lord Sukuna’s hardness growing behind you, but you resist the urge to grind into it and remain perfectly still. his pliant, obedient girl.

“now, go attend to our guest,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a finger. 

“yes, my lord,” you breathe, so aroused that you are nearly in pain.

 he then bends down until his lips tickle the back of your ear, making you shiver.

“show Satoru Gojo that that mouth of yours is meant for greater things than just making pretty little apologies to me,” he murmurs; you feel his voice reverberate through your whole body. the last thing you want to do is detach yourself from Lord Sukuna right now, but you know what  he desires of you, and you are always so eager to impress him. this is one of the things he loves about you, you know.

you return to Satoru Gojo’s bed as though to continue your examination; this time, however, you straddle him, desperate for just an ounce of friction to relieve your throbbing arousal. 

“i thought you had forgotten about me,” he pouts. 

“stop speaking, you stupid, beautiful man,” you reply, before tearing a kiss from his mouth. his lips are still slightly chapped from his hours of unconsciousness, and you rake your teeth across them. he groans into your mouth as you roll your hips until you feel him beginning to grow hard beneath you; the sensation sense frissons of pleasure through you, but you are single-minded in your task. you break your kiss abruptly and sit back, smirking at the pathetic whine Gojo lets out at your sudden absence. 

Gojo is only wearing a simple robe you had dressed him in after repairing him; this provides you with convenient access to conduct your examination. you withdraw a vial of oil you had kept in the pocket of your own robes (admittedly in anticipation of Lord Sukuna’s arrival), spread it across your hand, and begin stroking him. “it seems that everything is  in working order,” you remark as his erection grows under your expert ministrations. he moans and bucks into your hand. 

“p-please…” Gojo pants. the sound of his neediness goes straight to your core, which is rapidly growing wetter. this is not the time to pay attention to yourself, though; not when you’re attending to a patient. 

“‘please’ what, Satoru Gojo?” you tease; you know he has wanted to feel your mouth around him ever since Lord Sukuna alluded to it. you are enjoying watching this powerful sorcerer squirm by your hand, however. you glance over your shoulder and see Lord Sukuna is stroking himself off as well, his pants doffed entirely. you gulp; it has been so very long since Lord Sukuna has been in his own body; the sight of his girth is making you flush with desire. 

meeting your gaze, Lord Sukuna blows a kiss in your direction, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whining in sheer need to have him inside you. the sooner you obey him and pleasure Satoru Gojo, the sooner you may have the honor of feeling him stretch your walls; and so, you turn back to your guest. 

Gojo has the most pathetic look in his stunning blue eyes, driven half mad by yet unfulfilled lust. his plush lips are twisted in a pained grimace. you see him moving his hand to give himself the pleasure you are denying him, but you hold it in place firmly. 

“you’ve been such a patient boy so far; don’t ruin it now,” you coo, nipping his lower lip. you then undo his robe and crawl backwards until your face hovers over his engorged cock. you place a light kiss at its warm tip, licking off a bead of precum, before looking back up at him through heavily lidded eyes. Gojo tilts his head back, exposing the delicate white expanse of his throat. 

“Please, y/n!” he cries. “i need you!” 

the sound of your name on his needy tongue is having quite an effect on you, and you finally take pity on him; he only just recovered, after all. in one smooth motion, you take as much of his length as you can in your mouth. Gojo groans at the feeling of the warm wetness engulfing his cock, and you begin moving your head up and down, complementing the motions with your tongue as you cup his balls with your free hand. 

“feel free to gag her,” Lord Sukuna calls from his corner of the room. “her little throat can take it.” 

Lord Sukuna instructing Gojo on how to fuck your mouth is turning you on more than you can handle, and you moan involuntarily around his length. Gojo threads his fingers through your hair and pushes your head down on him; you swallow and feel him filling your mouth, his tip battering your throat mercilessly. you can tell from his increasing pace, from the guttural growls the feeling of you is drawing from him, that he must be getting close. 

finally, finally, you feel a strong, calloused, beautifully familiar pair of hands dig into the flesh of your hips, and you could cry in relief. 

“you have been such a good girl for me,” Lord Sukuna hums sensually. “and i always reward loyalty.” you buck your hips backwards into him, raising them to provide him readier access to your dripping cunt. you feel the pads of his thumbs stroke over your ass as his tongue begins lapping at your folds. his second tongue, you can tell, from its breadth and roughness plundering you. for all its added size compared to his primary tongue, however,  Lord Sukuna is no less exacting with it, and he is soon circling your clit with painful accuracy. he does not wait long before giving you the pleasure you crave, and almost embarrassingly quickly, you come all over his massive tongue with a wanton moan. 

with the sound of your orgasm, and the feel of your moan vibrating around him, Gojo fists your hair even more tightly and releases hot ropes into your throat with a growl. 

“swallow it all,” Lord Sukuna commands, reaching forward to stroke your hair. “swallow it down for me.” you are nothing if not obedient, and you dutifully swallow Gojo’s whole load, not letting a single drop go to waste. Gojo leans back on the headboard, spent, and relaxes his vice grip on your hair. you pop your lips off him, licking them clean and smirking to yourself at your ability to have someone like Satoru Gojo at your mercy. 

“i believe our guest needs time to rest before we continue,” you hear Lord Sukuna say from behind you. you turn and see that he is leaning back casually on one of the other beds in the healing quarters. “let us leave him for the time being, y/n.” 

you are a little disappointed to be stopping already, but you comply; Lord Sukuna is probably correct that too much excitement for Gojo could hinder his healing process. you make your way towards the doorway, yawning a little, when you feel a firm hand close around your wrist. before you have a chance to react, you’re roughly tugged backwards, spinning directly into Lord Sukuna’s firm chest. 

“i don’t believe i dismissed you, did i?” he purrs into your ear, and a thrill of excitement slithers through your body. 

“did i?” he repeats, pinching the tender skin at your waist at your silence. 

“n-no,” you gasp, hardly able to focus over your excitement for what will inevitably follow. 

Lord Sukuna twists his hand, making you hiss lightly at the pleasurable pain. 

“‘no’ what, y/n? how is it you should address me?” 

“no, Lord Sukuna,” you manage to breathe out. he lets out a low chuckle that reverberates through his chest before bending you over an empty bed, holding both your wrists behind your back with one of his hands as he pushes your head down with another. you are already incredibly aroused when you feel a third hand begin to explore your slick folds. 

“already so wet for me, are you?” he teases; you can hear the smirk in his voice. you can only whimper in response. he easily inserts two fingers into you, eliciting a sharp cry when he hooks them around and lightly tickles the sensitive spot that can make you come apart. 

“now,” you manage to grind out between your teeth. “please, my lord…i need you inside me now…” 

“making demands now?” Lord Sukuna taunts. “we certainly are feeling cheeky this evening, aren’t we?” 

in spite of his words of chastisement, however, Lord Sukuna seems intent on granting your wishes, and you feel his stiff head, moist with precum, brushing once, twice, thrice against your entrance, building up friction. then, in one decisive motion, he enters you at last; Lord Sukuna was, by all definitions and especially mortal standards, extremely well-endowed; however, you have been ready for him for so long that his length faces little resistance. you sigh in relief at the feel of his massive girth stretching your walls, making you feel so full and complete. at times like this, you feel that your body was created to accommodate him, that being used like this by him was your most sacred purpose.

you push back against him, trying to seat him even more deeply within yourself. in response, he strokes your hair affectionately. he then pulls out slightly, and with one more thrust, he bottoms out in you with a groan. 

he begins to drive into you with greater speed and urgency, two of his hands holding your hips in place so tightly that you know his broad fingertips will leave bruises. he adjusts his angle, pushing your face into the mattress and bending over you until your bodies are flush, and he continues at an unrelenting pace. your pleasure continues to build as he bottoms out again and again inside you, his massive second tongue slavering lasciviously over the curves of your back, until you come for the second time that night. you cry out in ecstasy without shame, feeling your walls clench even more tightly around Lord Sukuna. he groans at the sensation and sinks his teeth into your shoulder as he empties himself into you until his come drips down your thighs. 

utterly sated, you begin to crawl out from under Lord Sukuna’s massive form, your legs trembling with exertion, pleasure, and pain alike. your shaky breath leaves  your lungs all at once when he abruptly flips you on your back. he is so imposing and beautiful, hovering over you like this, with an inscrutable look in his cruel, narrow eyes. 

“i believe i already told you, y/n,” he growls, “you are dismissed only when i dismiss you. and i am nowhere near through with you yet.” 

holding himself up with two arms, he takes your hand with a third and draws it down until it is around his cock, which is already hard again. 

“look what you do to me,” he murmurs, before using your hand to brush his tip against your still-tender vulva. 

“i’m not yet ready, my lord,” you whimper weakly, trying to wriggle out from his grasp to no avail. you gasp as he grinds himself between your thighs and against your slickened entrance, growing harder still. the friction almost surpasses pleasure to pain after your powerful recent orgasm, and you keen loudly, unable to help yourself. “i-it’s…too much…i can’t take it,” you protest, tears rolling down your cheeks from the overstimulation.

Lord Sukuna promptly silences your noisy cries by clamping a swift hand to your throat. 

“i alone dictate what you can and cannot take,” he declares, gently pressing on the sides of your neck and slipping a hand between your thighs as you squeeze them together. with uncharacteristic tenderness, he then kisses the tears from your cheeks.

 “and i know you can take this.” 

he stares into your eyes until you assent with a silent nod, and he smiles.

“good girl,” he whispers, before using his hand to pry your thighs apart and positioning himself properly.  he buries himself inside you again, this time with minimal resistance — between your and his combined juices, you are sopping wet now. encouraged, he hitches your leg over his shoulder for deeper access to your core and begins thrusting into you in earnest. from this new angle, he drives right into your most sensitive inner point, and you are sure your cries can be heard throughout the compound. you hardly care who can hear you now, though; you hardly even pay attention to Gojo, who is now looking fully alert and wide-eyed at the show he is getting. 

you dig your fingernails into Lord Sukuna’s sinuous shoulders and cry out again and again until your voice grows hoarse.    

“say my name,” Lord Sukuna commands between his own grunts of pleasure. 

“L-Lord Sukuna,” you moan, your voice shaking as his thrusts increase in pace. he wraps his hand around your throat again. 

“my true name, y/n” he growls. he drives into you faster; you know he is close, and it is your privilege to bring him over the edge.

as soon as he releases his grasp on your neck, you reach up, stroking your hand through his unruly hair before pulling his ear down to your lips. “as you wish, Ryomen,” you purr into his ear. he moans and nearly folds you in half as he drives into you at a diabolical pace. as he reaches his peak, he withdraws his length from you and unleashes his load all over your stomach, marking you as his own; the thought that you had this effect on him, this power over him, multiplies your own pleasure, and you climax once again, your legs shaking and toes curling in sheer bliss. 

Lord Sukuna rolls off of your body, both of you breathing heavily. 

“now, y/n,” he pants, “you are dismissed. i shall attend to our guest in your stead.” 

your exertions have exhausted you, but you are still obedient to him before anything else. and so, covered in both of your comes, his saliva, and a sheen of your own sweat, you bow deeply, and excuse yourself from the room. you are so utterly sated, so pleasurably sore, that all you can think of is taking a hot bath and resting.

well…almost all you can think of.

Lord Sukuna’s final statement has piqued your curiosity, however. and that is why, rather than returning right away to your own quarters, you find yourself kneeling on the floor peering around the curtain closing off the medical wing. if you are perfectly silent and still, you can remain undetected. besides, you reason, Gojo is still your patient, and so it behooves you to keep a close eye on his recovery.

(why leave everything to the imagination, after all?)

by the time you are settled in from your covert viewing spot, you see that Lord Sukuna is standing by Gojo’s bedside. the younger sorcerer is fully awake and alert now, peering up inquisitively with those blue eyes of his. 

“is it finally my turn now, then?” he asks; you note that he sounds slightly petulant and roll your eyes. was he really jealous now, of all times? 

You can only see his muscled back  from where you sit, but you know from how his shoulders shake that Lord Sukuna is laughing at Gojo’s insubordination. 

“you have seen what i demand, Satoru Gojo,” he says, crossing both sets of arms. “do you believe you can keep up, even in your state?”

you know that Lord Sukuna’s line of questioning is only pretense, of course. you recall why it was that Lord Sukuna had brought back Satoru Gojo for you to heal. and you remember his request — i want this one staying pretty for me, he had said. 

“of course i can ‘keep up,’” Gojo scoffs. “can you keep up, old man? you seemed to get pretty tired just then.” 

you grimace at Gojo’s disrespect, but Lord Sukuna is made of sterner stuff, and he just laughs even louder before clapping a pair of hands around Gojo’s beautiful face. you note that Gojo flinches, if only for a split second.

“such a mouth on you,” he hums, brushing a thumb across Gojo’s bottom lip. “just look at you. we will have to do something about that attitude.”

“like what?” Gojo asks, his eyes glimmering with anticipation that you can see even from where you sit. “what exactly is it you would do, Sukuku dear?”

“you seem to have your own ideas already. what is it you would have me do?” you can hear Lord Sukuna’s grin, even if you cannot see it.

Gojo simply winks.

“here’s an idea. why don’t you split me in half again?”

Lord Sukuna laughs heartily before leaning forward over Gojo’s bed, slightly obscuring your view. 

“what an idea, Satoru Gojo. would you enjoy that?”

for some reason, Gojo does not answer right away; you try to crane your neck around to see what is happening, but he speaks again soon.

“y…yes…” he responds, suddenly breathless. “i believe i w-would.” 

suddenly, you realize that, while you cannot see all of Gojo’s body from this angle, you can see one of Lord Sukuna’s arms moving rapidly up and down, and you can see a blush beginning to color Gojo’s delicate cheeks. your breath catches in your throat as you put together what it is you are witnessing. scrambling for a better view, you decide that both men are occupied enough that you can creep back into the corner of the room and hide behind one of the beds for a clearer angle.

“and are you certain you can truly take me? all of me?” Sukuna inquires, continuing his businesslike tone as though he is not currently stroking his rival off.

“mm-of course,” Gojo keens. 

“‘of course’ who?” Lord Sukuna prompts, repeating the routine he loves to do with you. 

“forget your own name, Sukuku? you gettin’ senile?” he pants with a grin that is equal parts lascivious and mischievous. this is bratty behavior Lord Sukuna never had to suffer from you, so you wonder with eager anticipation how he will respond. 

Lord Sukuna merely tuts in response. “what a shame. whether you can accommodate all of me or not, we will have to fix that smart mouth of yours first.” 

he fists a hand in Gojo’s fine white hair, easily palming his full skull as he pulls back until the blue-eyed sorcerer is looking straight up at him. 

“i happen to know the best cure for a smart mouth,” Gojo says with a feral grin. he darts his tongue out and swipes it swiftly across Lord Sukuna’s swollen tip. 

“get on with it, then,” Lord Sukuna growls, roughly forcing Gojo’s head onto his length. you grimace at the vigor with which Lord Sukuna rams himself down Gojo’s throat which looks so dainty to you, but he slurps eagerly on it; it seems Satoru Gojo is never one to shy away from a challenge. 

watching Lord Sukuna use Gojo’s throat so mercilessly, and Gojo meeting the task with such enthusiasm, you find yourself unable to resist snaking a hand down between your legs, where you feel heat and tension building once again. as you toy with yourself, careful to remain as quiet as possible, you see Sukuna pull Gojo’s mouth from his still-hard cock with a wet pop. 

“you have proven yourself to me,” he says, releasing his grip on Gojo’s hair to caress it tenderly back from his face. “and it is time for your reward.” you hold your breath; this should be a treat for you, as well.

with a grip on Gojo’s shoulders, he raises him from the bed; Gojo, still a little shaky on his legs, braces himself back against Lord Sukuna’s body. Gojo is by no means a small man, but his form is still engulfed when he is up against Lord Sukuna; you bite your lip at the thought and rub yourself faster. 

Lord Sukuna reaches around Gojo to the bedside table, where you had deposited your vial of oil, and lubricates his fingers with a few drops. his hands should still be slick with all of your combined secretions, you reason, but Lord Sukuna always takes extra precautions given his immensity. then, gently bending Gojo back over, he inserts one finger. Gojo throws his head back against Lord Sukuna’s chest and groans as he gets accustomed to the feeling, and he moans outright as Lord Sukuna inserts his second finger. 

the sight and sound send hot coils of pleasure through you, and you have to clap a hand to your mouth to keep yourself from mirroring the sounds Gojo is making. 

“are you prepared for me to split you in half again, as you so eloquently put it?” Lord Sukuna purrs against the shell Gojo’s reddening ear. 

“yes!” Gojo cries without hesitation.  

“would you beg for it?” Sukuna prods, not one to give his rival what he is asking for so easily. 

“please!” when Sukuna makes no moves to proceed, Gojo cries out again. “please, Lord Sukuna,” he breathes. “please make me yours.” 

“good,” Lord Sukuna says, leaves a bruising bite at the nape of Gojo’s neck. “well said.” then, preparing his length and using both sets of his arms to position himself and Gojo optimally, Lord Sukuna enters him with agonizing slowness. you are unsure of whether you even thought to hold yourself back from moaning this time, but it is drowned out in any case by Gojo’s own needy vocalizations. 

as he pumps in and out of Gojo, all three of you are overcome by your own pleasure, by the complicated dynamics you have brought into the medical wing and worked out in such a raw and wild way. your earlier feelings of confused irritation for Gojo dissipate as you watch his beautiful form twisting in paroxysms of pleasure; in him, you see yourself. as the two men climax at nearly the same time, scattering their pearly semen across the sheets and each other, you find yourself peaking soon after, tears streaming down your face in sheer joy.

As Lord Sukuna settles Gojo back down into the bed for him to continue his recovery, he gives him a fond pat on the head.

“you were magnificent, Satoru Gojo.”

the sorcerer gives a little self-satisfied smile before falling into a deep slumber nearly immediately, and you make a mental note to ensure that all the exertion did not compromise his healing in any way. before Lord Sukuna can turn back around, you gather your earlier discarded robe around yourself and quietly crawl back out of the room and behind the curtain, pleased with yourself for not being caught. 

or so you thought.

“there is no need to exit on my account, y/n,” he calls, not turning around. you gasp before re-entering sheepishly.

“i apologize, my lord. i merely wished not to disturb you both, so i did not make myself known,” you explain rather weakly. 

“i am pleased you… enjoyed yourself,” he says, finally looking over his shoulder at you with a knowing smile that makes you shiver with shame.

 “you seem to have enjoyed yourself as well, my lord,” you reply; your envy of Gojo for earning Lord Sukuna’s attention is building back up, and you are unable to keep it from your voice. 

“oh, y/n,” Lord Sukuna chuckles fondly, closing the space between you with long strides before he is clasping you to him. 

“Satoru Gojo is a novelty.” he leans down until your mouths meet, and your breath catches.

“you, however,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot, “are mine. do you understand?” 

“yes, my lord,” you breathe back into him, hardly daring to move.   

he steps back from you first, calling for Uraume much to your confusion. the soft spoken chef, a long-time friend of yours inside the compound, appears with their characteristic quiet swiftness. much like yourself, Lord Sukuna has implicit trust in their devotion, and so often depends on them for personal tasks even beyond their formal role in the kitchen. as such, you have both built a mutual respect for one another. you nod a cordial greeting at them, which they return.

“you called for me, Lord Sukuna?”  they ask with their careful diction. 

“please draw a bath and get y/n cleaned up for me,” he says. 

you look at him inquiringly, and he chuckles darkly, his previous tenderness all gone.

“you and your pleasure both belong to me, y/n,” he reminds you. “and i know i did not give you my permission to…enjoy the show.”  

you gulp, and he turns back to Uraume. 

“get her prettied up for me,” he continues  with a devious grin of anticipation, “and bring her back to me so i may discipline her appropriately for her disobedience.”

[dfortrafalgar]

would you be interested in a more Platonic type fic? Like being good friends with Robin?

alternatively if it has to be romantic: Law being forced on a disaster of a date only to meet a super helpful (comic) bookshop employee and she starts seeming cute when he finds out she has similar interests? (Boy probably went into cardiac arrest at first when someone caught him not being broody)

hope this isn’t too much!

and you’re doing awesome!

thank you so much for your request, anon!!!! im actually going to use both of your ideas, but i started with the Law one because that hit seriously close to home. ive been on some absolute TRAVESTIES of dates in the past, and i needed to write law suffering through a similar fate or i'd die!!!!! I hope you enjoy, and pretty soon I'll post your platonic Robin request as well! I love writing platonic stories just as much as romantic ones <3

An Out.

Law x Fem Reader

Law made the mistake of letting his friends talk him into a first date… and now he desperately needs an out. Fast.

Warnings: an absolute disaster of a first date for our wonderful nerdy man. modern au, implied college setting, some mild slight suggestive language but nothing more than that

Trafalgar Law tried in vain to recount the series of events that led up to this very moment.

There was the dusty apartment floor discussion about how the med-student hadn’t gotten laid yet, which was followed by a raunchy comment about a girl in someone’s class, it was revealed that this girl was single (‘and ready to mingle’), and her number was forcibly input into Law’s phone.

For the week that followed, he was inundated with flirty texts from this girl he had never met in person.  He was forced to send her a picture of himself, mostly to get her to stop blowing up his texts every hour, and that was the next mistake in the line-up of unfortunate events.

Turned out she had a thing for facial hair.

Then, instead of getting pestered with general flirty messages, it was general flirty messages that were ramped up to a nine.  ‘I’d rip your clothes off if you give me the opportunity,’ kind of nine.

Law knew he was a virgin, but at least he wasn’t this desperate, nor did he have any inclination to be.  If anything, the texts he received from this stranger were making him want sex even less.

And yet… he was still pushed into this.

A date around downtown with this girl.  She clung to his arm, tried to loop her fingers into his, and yet had absolutely no interest in anything he had to say.  At all.

First red flag: she mentioned her ex.  Three times.  In four minutes.  Everything was about what he did wrong to upset her, no self-awareness to be found.  Second red flag: the clinginess.  Law hated public affection, but any attempts to urge her to give him space resulted in a childish pout and her arms caged around his, almost pulling him to the ground.  Third red flag: she couldn’t give two shits about Law, in any sense of the word.  She wouldn’t stop talking about herself.  Her looks, her clothes, her favorite music, her favorite shows to binge watch, her distaste for the area of the city they were in, her distaste for the lunch Law had [regretfully] paid for, her distaste for the speckled jeans he decided to wear…

He could feel the premature wrinkles forming in between his eyebrows the longer the date went on.  He was starting to wonder if he’d have to throw out the shirt he was wearing later.  It already reeked of the too-strong, powdery-scented perfume she bathed herself in.

“Where do you wanna go?” she suddenly asked, still tugging on his arm.

“I kinda want to stop by the bookstore before we leave,” he suggested, his feet already carrying him, and by extension, her, along the sidewalk to a small bookshop that had just recently opened.

“The bookstore?  What kinda guy brings a girl to a bookstore on a first date?!” she demanded, showing off yet another childish pout.  It wasn’t a good look on her.

‘A guy who knows this girl’s not getting a second date,’ he wished he could say.  Instead, all the snarky remarks stayed locked inside his weary brain, bouncing around like a caged lion desperate to escape.

The girl didn’t make any motions to ditch him to his nerdy reprieve, and instead followed on his heels as he pulled open the bookshop’s door, the familiar, calming scent of new books, fresh paper, and ink filling his nose.

“It smells gross in here,” the girl huffed.

Aaaand there went Law’s fleeting moment of peace.  Out the window.  Down fifteen stories and splattered on the pavement.  He needed to violently restrain the eyeroll that begged to appear.  His ocular nerves ached to be a dick in the pettiest way possible.  He inwardly hoped that by dragging this girl to the most unassuming bookshop would encourage her to leave, call a friend or get a cab to take her back to her home, but alas, she stayed glued to Law’s side like a lost dog.

She followed behind him as he blindly perused shelves of new and pre-owned books, Law’s feet subconsciously guiding him to the back of the store where he knew the comic books would be located.

If anything would turn this girl off for good, it had to be his love for all things superhero.  His comic book collection would dry her up like a dessert in a drought.  Or at least, it fucking better.

His eyes lit up as he approached the expansive comic shelf, immediately spotting the latest print of Sora: Warrior of the Sea- Volume 10.  It had finally been officially localized, and he had been saving some of his spending money for this very moment.  He eagerly grabbed the book from the shelf, thumbing through the pages.

“How old even are you?” jeered the girl by his side.  “Comic books are, like, little kid shit.”

“I’m five years old,” barked Law, refusing to look toward her as he continued to analyze the pages of his favorite series.

To the average onlooker, they both probably looked like complete jackasses towards one another.  And while Law was at least brave enough to admit that his behavior was certainly petty, he felt like he was warranted a Get Out Of Jerk Free card for all the painful hours of suffering through this atomic catastrophe of a date had put him through.

“Whatever, I’m going to find a bathroom,” the girl finally groaned, releasing his arm and trudging through the aisles of books toward the checkout counter to ask an employee where the bathrooms were located.

Law watched her go out of his peripheral vision, refusing to exhale a sigh of profound relief until she was completely out of his line of sight.  With shoulders that finally relaxed, free from the overbearing tension, he turned his focus back to the comic in his hands, continuing to thumb through the colorful pages of artwork.  He flipped the book around to examine the price, smiling at how reasonable it was.  He filled his arms with a few other comics from a series he had been meaning to pick up, and retreated toward the cash registers to buy his books.  The sooner he got his treat for this ordeal, the sooner he could get out of here, call this girl a taxi home, and spend the rest of his life as a willingly single comic book mega-nerd.

But reality wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily.

Not when the girl sitting behind the register thumbing through another copy of Sora Volume 10 was an absolute bombshell.

When she looked up at Law, her eyes quickly went wide.  She placed the book under the register counter and eagerly leaned forward, her hands supporting her over the counter.  “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice laced with worry.

Law cocked an eyebrow, confused.  “Yeah, why?”

“That girl you’re with is making you miserable.  You walked through the door looking like you wanted someone to grant you a mercy killing,” she huffed.  Her eyes were clearly concerned.  “Are you dating her?”

Law felt his guard dropping without even realizing it the longer he was in the presence of this cashier.  “My friends set me up on a date with her, but I’m having the absolute worst time of my life.”

The new girl’s own eyebrows angled downward in concern.  “Do you want an out?”

“A what?”

“An out,” she repeated.  “An excuse to get her to leave you alone.”  Time was running out.  At any moment, she could leave the bathroom.

Law frantically looked back and forth between the cashier and the small, short hallway that led to the single restroom.  With pleading, golden eyes, he silently mumbled, “Yes, please.”

The cashier kept her eyes on the bathroom door as she began unloading Law’s hands, spreading his books out on the counter to make it look like she was busy ringing out his purchase.  Law watched with an analytical gaze as she fumbled with his items, clearly buying time until the bathroom door opened.

He didn’t have time to ask what she was plotting.

The second the door cracked open, the man’s shirt collar was violently clenched in the cashier’s hands as she pulled him over the counter, smushing her lips into his.  Law’s fingers flexed in thin air as he froze, brain completely fried as he was frozen in this sudden kiss.

His first kiss.

“What the fuck?!” the girl screeched, exiting the bathroom in a frenzy as she booked it toward the heated exchange happening over the cash register.

The new girl pulled herself away from Law’s face, but only enough where she could display her best rendition of a weary, tired war-torn wife waiting on a cliffside for her husband to return.  “Baby, please just take me back!  My life isn’t complete without you!”  Her voice was cracking as she fake-wailed, her grip on Law’s shirt never faltering, not even once.  The few customers who also occupied the store turned to stare at the commotion, frazzled and befuddled.  “Nothing in life is as good as it was with you!  I’m in shambles!  You were the best sex I’ve ever had!”

It took a few moments for Law to catch on to the ruse.  As soon as he put the puzzle pieces together in his mind, however, he was grabbing the wrists of the cashier and bringing his lips back to hers, closing his eyes and trailing his arms up to grasp her face.  Completely disregarding the fact that they were still separated by the heavy check-out counter between their torsos.

“You were dating someone?!” snapped the original girl.  “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Law pulled away from the cashier’s lips, his own skin immediately feeling fifteen degrees colder from the loss of her contact.  “I wasn’t.  Until now.”

The new girl put her arm around Law’s shoulders from across the check-out counter, her deft fingers caressing his skin through his shirt.  “I’m sorry, but I’m taking him back, I can’t stand to be without him any longer!  The sight of him with another woman…” she made a show of clenching her chest, “makes me sick!”  She was damn good at this, in a way that almost made Law concerned.  The fact that she was pulling all of this out of nowhere, and the fact that her first course of action was this drastic, made Law’s heart flutter in his chest.

“Ugh, whatever.  This place sucks ass anyway.  I’m going home.”  She finally shouldered her bag and marched out of the shop, her feet stomping across the hardwood floor until the sound of the front door slamming closed finally made the cashier release her arm from Law’s shoulders.

And once again, the man was feeling oddly cold without the contact.  He glanced at her as she started ringing up his items for real.  “You’re… a good actor,” he blurted.

The girl hid her face in her arm with shame, an awkward laugh bubbling from her throat.  “I’m so sorry, I was trying to think of what to do to help you but when the door opened I panicked.”  Her eyes were focused on her work.  “I’ve been on some absolutely awful dates myself, so I understand.  Sometimes I’ve wished I could have Prince Charming swoop me out of the movie theater where a guy made fun of me for my interests the entire run-time.”

His jaw went slack.  “Are you serious?”

“Deadass,” she replied, quick as a whip.  “Insisted on holding my hand the entire time.  I think he was convinced that I had taken him to see a horror movie because I wanted to act scared in front of him, but his hand was so clammy and sticky the whole time.  And not in the endearing ‘Aww he’s shy!’ kind of way.”

Law wished at that moment that he had more charisma.  He was sure one of his friends would be able to pull a witty, flirty quip from their asses like it was nothing, but Law’s personal dictionary of flattery was nonexistent as it was.  He balked while he listened to the cashier who just took his breath away lamenting about her own poor experiences with dating, and he was sure that her example in this moment was only one of many.  Instead of continuing the conversation, his mind blanked.  He stated, more like whispered, “That was my first kiss.”

The girl’s hands stopped scanning his books halfway through.  Her wide eyes darted up to Law’s, her jaw slack.  “It… It was?”

“Yeah.”

Her hands flew to cover her mouth, eyes wide with shock.  “Oh my god… oh my god, I’m so sorry!”  She dropped her head onto the counter, covering her despair with both of her arms now.  “First kisses are supposed to be special and I just took your’s away from you…”

Law shocked himself by smiling at the weary display in front of him.  “If it makes you feel any better, that was far better than the date I was on.  But I’m sure you already knew that.”

She picked her head up, a trembling hand grabbing one of his last books to scan.  Her eyes nervously darted back and forth as she silently worked, once in a while sucking her bottom lip in with her teeth before releasing the flesh.  She was clearly lost in an intense inner turmoil.

“It’s really alright,” Law muttered, now growing shy himself.  He was just now realizing the gravity of what had happened… and how truly adorable this girl was.

She tapped a few buttons on her cash register before finally making eye contact with him again.  “You are a pretty good kisser… you’re really sure you’ve never done that before?”

He affirmatively shook his head.  “Never.  I’ve never been… popular with the dating scene,” he muttered.  “Hence this awful set-up date.”

The cashier’s eyes went wide again momentarily.  “That’s kind of surprising to me… I would think someone like you would get any girl you wanted.”

Law backpedaled.  “What does that mean?”

She pulled his total up on the small screen that faced him.  She was turning away from him as if to hide her face, her entire expression teeming with a child-like embarrassment.  “Well, you’re crazy hot, for starters.  And you like Sora, clearly.”

Law felt a smirk emerge on his lips.  “Is Sora one of your only qualifiers for a decent partner?”  He began to rekindle some of the confidence he had lost throughout the day.  The longer he spent in this girl’s presence, the more he felt the tension in his body leaving.

She grinned, the stress in her shoulders from her own actions finally releasing.  “Only guys with fluffy black hair and golden eyes that read Sora, if you want my honest answer.”

Now this was flirting.  Law had to admit, he was pretty pleased with this sudden turn of events.  The atmosphere this girl radiated was immensely calming, allowing him to chip through his reinforced walls just enough to feel like a somewhat normal person.  He started to wonder if she could break through his barriers even more.

“What’s your name?” he finally asked, taking out his credit card and swiping it through the machine to finally cash out his order.

The girl excitedly revealed her name.  “And your’s?”

“Trafalgar Law,” he replied.  “I go to North Blue University for med school in the next town over.”

“No shit, so do I!  I’m getting a worker's license there,” she added, her expression shifting from one of moderate happiness to one of excitement.  “I doubt we’ve had any of the same classes, but we should hang out sometime!  Get coffee, maybe talk about Sora…”  Her voice trailed off, her eyes growing soft.  “Unless you’ve been completely turned off to dating after what you’ve clearly just been through.”

Law took a few moments to ponder over her words, watching as the receipts for his purchase slowly emerged from the thermal printer.  “I think I can make an exception this time.”

The smile that broke out on the girl’s face may as well have blinded him.  She was truly dazzling, even in her ratty-looking employee apron and an oversized T-shirt accounting for her work attire.

Law placed his new assortment of books into his own bag, the girl snatching his receipts from the printer and stashing one of the copies in the drawer below the counter.  When he looked back up, she was holding out his second receipt, folded in half.  She gave him a fond smile when he took it.

“I hope you’re able to relax later today, and enjoy your books!” she called, waving to Law as he exited the store.

Once outside again, the air felt clearer now that he was alone.  The day was still young, hardly a cloud in the sky and a pleasant breeze coasting through the city.  He looped his bag over his shoulder and opened the receipt, peering at what was written on the backside.

Call me for Sora… and for just me ;) <3 1125-354-9854

[pomefioredove]

Hi! This is very very specific, but…I've had a rough start to my day today, kinda relating to the topic of my request…

So I was wondering, would it be alright to request HCs of Jamil, Ruggie, Leona, Floyd and Rollo with a Reader who runs into an emotionally abusive/manipulative parent they haven't seen in a long time? The kind of subtle abuse that's hard to tell (from the inside, at least) is even abuse at all, and makes you doubt yourself a lot. Kinda narcissistic abuse

Kind of a hurt/comfort thing? Like how they'd deal with the bad parent and the Reader opening up a bit about it. Romantic or platonic, either one is good

Feel more than free to ignore if this kind of request isn't your thing: that's totally fine, I understand it's a bit heavy, not to mention very specific, so please do what makes you feel best. I hope you have a good day!

ahhh of course! I relate to this sort of thing a lot (although I don't use terms like narcissistic abuse since abuse is just abuse to me) and I know exactly what you mean. I love hurt/comfort and you're well within my boundaries since the only thing I wouldn't write pertaining to this topic is intimate partner abuse (like with an s/o). so you're perfectly fine! I enjoyed writing this <3

summary: comforting a reader with an abusive parent type of post: short fics characters: jamil, ruggie, leona, floyd, rollo additional info: reader is not specified to be yuu ("shrimpy" is used as a nickname during floyd's part tho), reader is gender neutral, food mention (ruggie's part), actual interaction w the parent happens during leona and rollo's parts, mentions/descriptions of emotional abuse, although reader is kinda vague about it

Jamil Viper

Jamil knows what it's like to feel stuck.

That's really all he has to know when he recognizes that look on your face.

Perhaps you usually wear your heart on your sleeves, or perhaps you're better at keeping your emotions to yourself, like him, but either way he can tell something is very wrong the second he sees you.

It's a bit strange, isn't it?

Surrounded by people in the cafeteria and yet no one seems to notice the shadow cast over you.

He tries to talk himself out of it for the rest of the day. He has enough on his plate as it is, and it's not his problem. He's Kalim's keeper, not yours.

But that sense of unease doesn't go away.

He drags himself out of bed and somehow finds himself at your door in the dead of night.

And even though it takes you a moment to answer, he can tell you were already awake.

"Here," he says, handing you a warm meal in a container. "I noticed you didn't eat today. We had leftovers."

You don't feel very much like eating, but you accept the gift, anyway. It smells amazing. His cooking always does.

"Thank you," you mumble.

You can't think of anything else to say.

"Are you... well, Kalim sent me to ask if you're feeling unwell," he lies through his teeth.

"I'm fine,"

Another lie, this time of your behalf, which annoys him ever-so-slightly.

"You're clearly not. Are you sick?" the question is vague enough, said in such a way that leaves you with the impression that he wasn't exactly referring to a physical illness.

"I've... had a rough day,"

Jamil is quiet for a moment, thinking to himself. And then: "Do you mind if I come in?"

He's always so careful with his words that such a direct (yet polite) request almost catches you off guard. You step to the side, letting him in your room.

"I don't mean to pry. I know it's not my place," he says, watching you close the door. "But... Kalim is worried. Yes."

You shake your head. "It's fine. I'll get over it,"

It.

What did "it" mean? Surely this couldn't just be a lousy day.

"Did something happen?"

You hesitate.

"Have you ever... ran into someone who made your life miserable? That you thought you moved on from... and it starts to feel like you're stuck in that place all over again?"

Of course. Of course he knows what that feels like.

He has to live through that exact experience every day, without even being able to move on.

But he can't just say that. And this is about you, after all.

"I'm familiar with the feeling. I suppose that's what's ruined your day, then?"

"That's one way to put it," you sigh, sitting at the edge of your bed. "Sometimes it feels like all the progress I've made is just... null. Like I'll never really move on."

He hates how much he's relating to you. How much you're affecting him, now, too.

He follows you to the bed and sits beside you.

"Someday, though, you will. It may feel hopeless now, but... you won't stay stuck forever,"

Unlike me, he thinks.

"How can you be so sure?"

"I can't be. But you don't strike me as someone to give up after hardship,"

Like me.

You're quiet for a moment, seemingly considering what he told you. And then you hug him.

A nice, soft hug. Not abrasive or sudden like the ones Kalim gives. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

"Thank you, Jamil,"

He hugs back. "Of course,"

Ruggie Bucchi

It was almost painful, watching you fumble with your wallet like that.

You couldn't seem to get the proper amount out, shaking like a leaf and apologizing profusely. Sam keeps telling you it's okay, but the line forming behind you is starting to grow restless.

Ruggie included.

He has places to be, after all, and he's got two whole crates of energy drinks to lug back to Savanaclaw.

He has half a mind to ask what the holdup is.

And so, he peers over your shoulder, ready to- oh, no. You're crying.

Damn it. Why can't things ever be easy for him?

He can't even chew someone out for taking up all his precious time without being thrown a curveball. And now he feels bad.

Sigh.

"Hey, I got this," he says, setting his heavy crates down on the counter and flashing a card.

Your eyes widen. "Oh, no, Ruggie, you don't have to-"

"Relax, it's Leona's money, not mine," he offers a grin, ignoring the tears trailing down your face. "He won't even notice it's missing."

The line behind you two breathes a collective sigh of relief (much to your embarrassment) and Ruggie shoots them a glare.

"I... I still can't accept this-" you start, before he quickly shushes you.

"Hey, if you wanna make it up to me, you can help me carry these things. I'll call it even,"

You're silent for a moment as Sam finishes ringing you both up, and then you take a crate. As quiet as ever. It's unnerving.

You're walking back to the Hall of Mirrors when Ruggie breaks that silence by bringing up your purchase. "So, what's up with the afternoon snack? Not that I'm judging- I'm jealous. I skipped lunch, shishishi,"

"Oh, it's nothing," you mutter. "Comfort food, I guess."

The concept of comfort food is extremely appealing to him. "Huh. Long day?"

"Something like that... Why'd you skip lunch?"

Trying to change the conversation topic? Clever. But he'll bite, anyway.

"Leona forgot some of his class stuff, so I had 'ta run and get it. Too bad he forgot where he left it... I was all over campus,"

"Did you find it?"

"Eventually. Or else I'd be busy getting my neck wrung instead of 'bein here with you,"

You nod, and the conversation swiftly dies.

After another awkward beat, he clears his throat. "So you... you wanna talk about it, or something?"

"What?"

"You know, your... your day," he mutters, shrugging. He's desperately trying to remember all of the things his grandma did for him when he was upset as a child. "Talking about it might... make 'ya feel better, y'know?"

You're quiet again, and for a moment Ruggie is worried he said something to offend you.

Then, much to his relief, your voice picks up. "I ran into someone today,"

"What? Like someone was giving you trouble?"

"No, not a student. Someone I don't see very much anymore. Um... I guess it just threw me off,"

He tilts his head to the side. "Why?"

"I don't... well, we don't get along very much. Something about them just makes me feel... very... small. Insignificant,"

You don't ask if he understands what you mean, but he does. Not that he'd ever admit that so openly to you at a time like this, but being small and insignificant is basically his job.

And as much as he likes the perks, he can imagine how rough it would be to deal with that and not get to use a bottomless credit card whenever the opportunity presented itself.

He struggles to respond for a moment.

"That's rough,"

Definitely not the sympathetic response he was going for. At least you don't seem to mind.

"I-I mean, sometimes we have to act small to survive. It's a part of life, 'ya know? But that doesn't mean you are small. Just surviving on its own is an accomplishment," he recovers from his earlier blunder, trying to smile. "You should be proud of yourself, if anything."

"That's..." you say. "That's one way of looking at it."

He sighs. "I'm not expressing myself very well, am I? What I'm trying to say is that you're not small or insignificant, and living life feeling like you are is a survival tactic at best,"

The both of you stop in front of Savanaclaw, and he offers another grin.

"And if you ever wanna talk about this stuff... well, I'm around... And you can come inside now, if you want. I could definitely find more stuff to carry!"

Leona Kingscholar

Leona Kingscholar is very, very much enjoying parent weekend alone, thank you.

Of course his folks don't want to attend a school event for their disappointment of a second son. Why would they care? And on Cheka's birthday weekend, no less...

But that didn't bother him. Not at all.

As long as he slept through the weekend without being bothered by any happy-go-lucky nuclear family units, he'd live.

That plan lasts about five hours.

"You'd be better off doing something more useful with your time. Sports, or science, or... something that might help your future. But if you're so sure... I suppose it's better to cut our losses now than put any more faith in you. You just can never decide, can you?"

That voice. Unfamiliar, but drawling, laced with poison. Aggravating enough to stir Leona from his nap in the botanical gardens.

And it's getting closer.

"I just don't understand. Why get accepted into one of the most prestigious schools in the world just to spend your time goofing off?" a long sigh. "But as long as you're happy... we just want what's best for you."

Leona grumbles, turning over and trying to drift back to sleep.

"I'm trying,"

This voice is different. No- he recognizes it. It's yours.

"Are you? You know I know what's best for you, right?"

Sevens. This is your parent speaking to you? No wonder you've been acting all jittery lately.

He sits up, giving up on his nap, and continues listening in.

"I know," you say. "I really am trying, though."

"Did I say you weren't? Don't speak for me,"

This is getting ugly. Leona stands, stepping out of the shrubbery and clearing his throat behind the two of you.

You're the first to turn. "Oh- Leona! Sorry, we didn't mean to disturb you,"

"You're fine," he snaps, sharp eyes turning to your parent beside you. "Who's this, then?"

"This is-"

"Their parent," they go ahead and introduce themselves, cutting you off as if you weren't speaking at all. Like you're a piece of furniture hanging in the background. He's not a fan.

"Really? From the way you were talking, I would have guessed that you were their coach. Or boss,"

Your eyes dart between the two. "Leona-"

"You're fine," he reaffirms. "I was just looking for you, anyway. We really have to talk."

You pause, raising an eyebrow. He? Wants to talk to you? Now?

"Is it important?" your parent asks. The question is directed at you, although he answers.

"Very. I was just coming to ask you, very politely, I might add, to reconsider my offer,"

"Your... offer...?"

Your parent looks down at you. "What's he talking about?"

"Can't blame you for forgetting. I'm sure you're busy with all your... school... things. But I do have to ask you to rejoin the spelldrive club. We're in shambles without you,"

He gives you a certain look, one that clearly reads "Go along with it."

Leona Kingscholar offering an olive branch to someone is a rare occurrence. So you take it.

"Oh! Right, I have been busy with school. I've been meaning to get back to you..."

Your parent looks between the two of you with just the faintest hint of confusion, and then frustration. "You've been playing spelldrive? When was I going to hear about this?"

"They haven't been playing with us," Leona says, a small smirk already forming. "They're the team manager. They're way too smart to be out on the field- no, they're running the team, they're organizing everything, their strategy is like nothing we've ever seen. If only they were in Savanaclaw, we might have a chance at winning one of these years."

"Uhhh..." you start, looking between your parent and the oddly friendly and receptive clone that's replaced Leona. "...Yeah, right."

"Now, if you'll excuse us, we really have to discuss official club matters," he says, shooing away your parent until they eventually give in and leave.

As soon as they're out the door, you turn to him. "What w-"

"Are you alright?" he asks.

Stunned would be an understatement. "I'm fine,"

"Really? Cause you're looking at me like a gazelle caught in headlights,"

"I-I guess it's just been hard... having them here,"

Leona nods, closing his eyes as he thinks to himself. Then, he sighs.

"Yeah. I get that. Come on, then,"

You raise an eyebrow as he starts off in the opposite direction. "What? Where are we going?"

"Somewhere quiet and warm to nap. Being around that person sucked all the energy right out of me, I can't imagine how exhausted you feel,"

He turns to look over his shoulder with a smile. "With any luck, we'll avoid them for the rest of the weekend,"

Floyd Leech

Of course, he can tell something's up right away.

Well... maybe it takes him a little while to tune into the conversation, but once he does, he notices you've been... awfully quiet throughout it.

His favorite little shrimpy? All sad? Moping around like a kicked puppy?

Now this catches his attention.

"Bored?" he asks. It's his first guess.

"Hm?" you ask, looking back at him. "No, I'm fine."

"But you're not,"

"Okay, I'm a little distracted,"

Now that, he can understand. But there's still something very off about the whole thing that he can't quite put his finger on.

"You're not telling me something," he states, matter-of-factly, crossing his arms.

You raise an eyebrow. "...And?"

"And I wanna know. I'm not letting you leave until you tell me,"

Your thought process is probably ranging somewhere between "oh, no," and "oh NO," by now.

"I sweaaar, it's nothing," you insist. "I just had a bad day, okay?"

"Why?"

There's no turning back now. He's invested, and until he loses interest, you're stuck here.

"It was... just... long. Can I go now? I have things to do,"

He frowns, and stands, and then puts you in a headlock. "Alright, where're we 'goin?"

"FLOYD!"

He drags you along with him, remembering not to be too rough as he takes you from place to place on his dailies. You begrudgingly learn to accept it.

When you walk back into the Mostro Lounge, Azul and Jade don't even bat an eye.

"You're thirty minutes late- ah, why do I bother?" Azul says, rifling through a stack of papers on his desk. He only looks up when he catches a glimpse of you. "Oh. Hello, there."

You wave half-heartedly. "Can I get some help?"

"Floyd. What is the meaning of this?" he asks.

Floyd pouts. "There's 'somethin wrong with them and they won't tell me what,"

"Are they ill?"

You lower your eyes at the two as they speak like you're not even there. "Hello?"

"Nah, they feel fine. They're all mopey, though,"

Azul hums to himself, lost in thought. And then: "Well, figure out what it is, and get to work, if you please,"

"Azul!" you shout. He ignores you.

Floyd drags you back outside the office and sits down with you at one of the tables, waving to concerned lounge-goers as they pass by.

"Now will you tell me?"

"Geez, alright, alright. I give up, you win," you sigh. "I... well, my parent was here earlier. At school. And we talked, and they... said some not-very-nice things to me. That's why I've been upset, okay?"

Floyd's smile immediately drops. "I win? But that's not a very good prize,"

"Tell me about it,"

"Why would anyone be mean to you, anyway? You're the best shrimpy I know!"

You avert your eyes. "It wasn't... mean... per se. Just... not nice,"

"Sounds mean to me," he mutters. "I don't get it."

"Well, sometimes these things just... don't make sense. It's my fault, anyway," you sigh.

His gaze sharpens at that. "'An who told you that? You didn't do anything! I'm starting to really dislike this parent of yours,"

His sudden mood swing doesn't phase you, but it does lift your spirits... just the tiniest bit. Even if you wouldn't admit that to yourself. "Hey, it's fine. I'm over it,"

"You sure you don't want me to squeeze 'em?"

"Heh. No, that's okay. I would like you to let me go, though,"

His eyes widen at the sudden realization he still has you in a headlock and he quickly releases you.

You sit up, stretching and rubbing the back of your neck. "Thanks,"

"My arm was starting to hurt, anyway..." he thinks for a moment, looking back to the office door. "Ya think I can use that to get out of working? I wanna spend more quality time with my favorite shrimpy. You could use it!"

You look to the door and shrug. "Hey, worth a try, right?"

Rollo Flamme

Out of all the things to ruin the day, of course it had to be your parent.

The disappointment between the two of you was palpable. And even though it was only a brief encounter, it was enough to sour the rest of the afternoon for the both of you.

The first thing Rollo noticed, of course, was the manner in which they carried themselves. As an authoritative, important figure, puffing out their chest and towering over you. What gave them the right...?

They were not a leader, nor a public figure, nor anyone of interest, if your earlier mentions of them gave him any idea. Nothing but an adult who spoke to the both of you as if you were tiny children.

He loathed being talked down to.

Perhaps he should have said something sooner than he did, and perhaps he should have said something more than the interruption he used to excuse you from the conversation.

And now you're just quiet.

"Are you well?" he asks, looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

You shrug.

"I apologize for not speaking on your behalf sooner. I did not want to be rude,"

No response at all.

Your silence was driving him mad. He couldn't get a good read on what you were feeling when you kept looking away like that.

"If you'd like to return home early, I would understand and escort you promptly,"

"No,"

A response. Not a good one, but a response nonetheless.

"May I ask you a question?" though he doesn't really wait for your permission to go on. "Why do they speak to you like that?"

That comment seems to jolt you, and you turn to look at him with wide eyes. "What? Speak to me like what?"

He struggles for the right words.

How could he describe it? It was so... odd. The words they spoke to you didn't sound cruel, but there was something sinister lurking beneath them. And not even in the typical "polite for the sake of it" sense.

Each response they gave was laced with a sort of venom that seemed to sting you. You had grown quiet, distant, as if you weren't really there at all.

Of course he was familiar with such tactics. He could weave his own words with ease. But you had done nothing wrong- you were guiltless. Why were you being punished?

He couldn't quite come up with an answer.

"You seemed uncomfortable," he finally says, looking away again. "I apologize for such an experience happening to you under my watch."

"It's not your fault,"

"It certainly isn't. And it's not yours, either,"

A blanket of silence falls over the two of you until he speaks again.

"You have nothing to feel bad about," he reaffirms.

Another pause.

"And I don't mean to intrude. But if you ever need my assistance, you know where to find me,"

[hellvcifer]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write a Hazbin Hotel x sad reader. Where the reader is just lying in their bed and hasn’t came out their room. And the Hazbin characters tries to give them comfort. If your not comfortable writing this then that’s totally fine 💗

RECLUSE— ଘ fic

pairing :: hazbin hotel residents x gn!reader wc :: 2.7k note :: hi there! i hope this is what you were looking for and brings you some comfort if you're feeling down. i wasn't sure which characters you were looking for specifically so i did a little of each for the main hotel crew. warnings :: reader is sad, isolation and pushing people away

“Good morning!” Charlie shouted, hands thrown in the air, a giant grin plastered on her face. “I have the per~fect morning planned for us. First, we’ll do our daily affirmations in our friendship circle, then we’ll try the trust fall exercises–this time without the egg boys–” her face wilted at the memory. Poor Tucker. “And then!” She immediately went back to her peppy-self, “I thought we could bake cookies!” She glanced at everyone who sat in the lounge area.

“Uh, we’re missing one.” Angel spoke, his body splayed across one of the couches as he casually scrolled through his phone. 

“Y/N hassn’t come down yet.” Sir Pentious added, a few of the egg boys walking around him, seemingly playing a game.

“Oh!” Charlie looked confused for a moment, “Well, uh, that’s okay!” She walked over next to her girlfriend and sat down on the open seat of one of the couches. “We can wait.”

“I’m sure they’ll be down shortly.” Vaggie placed a hand on Charlie’s bouncy thigh to help ease her pent up excitement for the activities she had planned. All was fine until a few more minutes passed. Then those few minutes turned into thirty. Then thirty turned into an hour. Charlie and Vaggie shared a look. 

“I’ll uh,” The princess stood, “I’ll just go check on them! To make sure everything is okay.” She nervously smiled before making her way to the stairs, Vaggie followed closely behind to accompany her. 

“I’m sure everything’s perfectly fine.” She did her best to calm the blonde.

“You’re right!” Charlie smiled. “They probably just slept in a little. Nothing to worry about!” Once they reached your door, Charlie cleared her throat, adjusting her posture before knocking. A few raps of her knuckles on the dull door and nothing was heard in response. “Uh, Hello~! Wakey-wakey, Y/N!” A couple more knocks. “Are you in there?” Her question was hopeful though she couldn’t help the slip of concern. You had always been on time, happily participating in her exercises, and helping around the hotel. It was increasingly odd to not see you around. “Maybe they’re not at the hotel?” She turned to Vaggie.

The girl shook her head. “No one saw them leave.” The answer only caused Charlie to huff in a pout. 

“Okay then.” She stood straight, eyes glimmering with determination. “If they won’t come out, then we’ll just go in!” She reached for the knob and grasped tightly.

“Wait, Charli–” The door was locked. She wiggled it a few more times, thinking maybe it was just stuck. The jostling grew more and more louder as she continued to try to open it. “Charlie, okay wait, stop.” 

“Go away!” A muffled voice called from behind the door causing them both to pause. Your muffled voice. 

“Y/N?” The blonde called out. “Uh, are you okay?”

“Please, just…” Your tone quieted. “Just leave.”

“Okay but I rea~lly think you should open the door! And we can talk! Or…” She nervously looked around, trying to come up with something. “Or~! you could join everyone downstairs! And we can, uh… We can…” She trailed off, eyes flitting to Vaggie.

“Maybe we should just give some space.” She suggested and Charlie sighed in response. Her head drooped. 

“Yeah, okay.” They walked off, with more questions than answers, and worried expressions. 

“I’m sure after today, things will be back to normal. Okay?” Vaggie side hugged Charlie. 

Inside your room you laid in your bed. Everything felt heavy, swallowed up in darkness. You let the blankets cocoon you in their warmth as you lie there, unmoving. Unmotivated. Drowning in the gray clouds of your mind. Surely, a few days like this and you’d be out of your funk. 

Nothing really put you there to begin with but you felt yourself becoming low-spirited over the past week. That morning, you knew it was impossible to get out of bed. You sunk further and further into the springed mattress, the lumps now cradling you and your sorrows. You heaved out a deep breath. Just a few days. And maybe, this dark storm will have passed. 

“It’s been four days!” Charlie worriedly paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. “And after all we’ve been through together I think it’s time we step in!”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Sweetie.” Vaggie stood up, walking closer and placing a comforting hand on her girlfriend's shoulder. “When you ask to be left alone, sometimes you just gotta leave them alone.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m with toots over there.” Angel gestured to Charlie, walking over with a drink in his hand. “I get wanting to shut out for a few days but not this long.” He leaned on the back of the couch.

“Perhapss they’re in need of ssome assistance?” Pentious’ tongue peaked out to end his words. 

“Good idea, boss!” One of his egg boys shouted from the ground.

Charlie’s face lit up, eyes widening upon hearing his words. “It’s a GREAT idea!” She turned towards everyone, hands held out in excitement. 

“No, Charlie!” Vaggie grabbed both her hands. “We already tried that and got told to leave.”

“Yeah, but that was you two.” Husk added, “And we know how you like to handle things.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He rolled his eyes, “It means you don’t know how to read the situation.”

Vaggie was glaring at him fiercely when Angel straightened his back, “You know what, Kitty’s right.” He got closer. “Why don’t we try our hands at talking. Figure something from us might make ‘em feel better.”

“But the door’s locked.”

“Eh,” Angel waved his two right hands. “We’ll get 'em to open it.” He began walking to the stairs, Husk close behind him.

“And how exactly are we supposed to do that?” Husk asked.

“Oh, I got an idea.” He flashed a look before leading the bartender to his room. He made a short pit stop to pick up fat nuggets and then they made it to your room. A few knocks on your door and they were only answered with silence. 

“Hey Y/N~!” Angel called out. “You know, it’s been so lonely without you around and I have someone here that’s been dying to see you!” As if on queue, nuggets made two cute squeals of delight. 

“Really?” Husk narrowed his eyes at Angel. “You’re bribing them with the pig?”

Angel snapped to look at him. “Hey! Everyone loves this pig!” He sharply spoke in a low tone.

“Leave me alone!” They both snapped to stare at your door. 

“We brought booze?” Angel tried again, suggesting Husk’s bottle of whiskey. Which may not have been the best idea considering the slow turn the cat gave him. Entirely offended with his mouth open.

“I don’t want your stupid cheap alcohol!” Why… You rolled your eyes, turning away from the door, Why! “Or your pig!” Why are you saying these things? “Just go! Away!” Your chest was filled with an abnormal pressure as you threw the blanket over your head, water brimming your eyes. You muffled the sobs into your pillow.  Why are you feeling like this?

Angel and Husk left defeatedly, entering the lobby similar to how Vaggie and Charlie did the first time. Husk went behind the bar, not wanting to talk and Angel laid down on the red couch. 

“Well?” Charlie almost knew the answer already but hoped for something better. 

“Got nothing.” Angel moped. “Bribed ‘em with Nuggets and booze.” He turned to look at the group. “Nothing’ll work if we can’t get passed the door.” 

“Then we must bring the show inside!” The radioed voice was cascading throughout the room as he appeared in the lounge area. Taking a seat in one of the chairs, he crossed his legs. “Sometimes a little jazz is all you need to reignite the light.” 

“Oh no! No, no, no!” Vaggie was quick to stand in, “We can’t just invade their privacy!” She turned to the group. “I care for Y/N as much as all of you, but sometimes you need to respect them wanting space.”

“But aren’t you two the oness telling uss to be there for our friendss?” Pentious asked. “How can we comfort them by giving them sspace?”

“It’s called boundaries.” Her hands assisted the assertion of her words.

“Uh, Yeah, boundaries.” Angel mocked, “Smiles is gone by the way.” He pointed to the now empty seat as everyone snapped their heads to it. Vaggie slapped her hands to her face, letting out a frustrated groan. 

Charlie nervously laughed before clasping her hands together. “Oh no.”

Alastor rose from murky obsidian shadows, revealing his everlasting sinister grin. His eyes slid over to the bed, brow raised once he saw a cluster of blankets. He spun his mic, walking over and waving his hand. The unused fireplace was suddenly lit and crackling, causing you to jolt. 

“The fuck–?”

“Why Hello!” The sudden radioed cadence was all you needed to hear. You rolled your eyes. “Closing away like this is no way to present yourself!” He leaned forward. You noticed the soft soothing trill of jazz in the background, no doubt brought on by the man beyond your blanket barrier. “Where’s the joy in being locked away in this room?”

“Will you just–” You hastily uncovered yourself and sat up. “Get out!” The glow of the flames flickered against your skin as you sought out the intruder. 

“Don’t you look swell!” His incessant grin was accompanied with an overt blink. You groaned, forcefully lying back down in a huff against your pillow. Glared glued to the ceiling.

“Why can’t anyone understand that I want to be left alone!” 

Alastor walked over to the fire, a chair and an end table appeared with a cup of coffee. He took a seat and grabbed his cup. “Why be alone when there’s so much to do outside!” 

You released a heavy sigh. “What’s the point…” Your voice came out in a strained whisper. Throat knotting as you struggled to swallow away your swollen tongue. 

Al took a sip from his mug, “My my, what a depressing thing you are! I’m nearly getting flashbacks.” 

“Alastor…” You felt your eyebrow twitch, “With every single drop of the draining patience I have left. Get. The fuck. Out.” 

Your words had zero effect on him, “But I’m here to help, my friend!”

“Oh please.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re saying you’re here because you care?”

He laughed, “Oh dear, no!” He set his drink down and stood up, “Being a witness to you drowning in your sorrows is quite entertaining.”

You turned your head to look at him, “Then why are you here?”

“I’m merely a parrot to our constituents! The worry over your newfound reclusion has become the talk of the town! I wanted to see it for myself.” He walked closer. “But by all means, continue your isolation! Watching the others scurry about with concern and become defeated time after time again is delightful! It’s not as if it’s hurting anyone…” His eyes slid towards you, his smile filtering to that of a smirk. “Including yourself.” He melded into the floor, the fire and music extinguishing with his exit. 

Now alone in the thickened darkness, the silence of your own thoughts gnawing into the corners of your mind. Hurting. Were you really hurting them? That wasn’t anything close to what you wanted. Staying in your room. Locked away. That was supposed to be the solution until you felt better. Somewhat better. Just… Different than how you were feeling now. 

But the days don’t feel different at all. If anything, the mucky feeling only cemented itself further within your chest. You felt it begin to sink, the thought of everyone trying to break through to you brought that welling feeling back. And you just yelled at them. You yelled at the only people trying to show you kindness.

The tears pooled over the edge, racing down your face. Everything released from within, the melancholic storm brewed over the past few days erupted. Your thunderous cries echoed throughout the dark room. 

After a few more whales you finally simmered down to a low whine, taking deep breaths to relieve yourself. It wasn’t a cure-all but you were finally able to gain some bearings. You grabbed your blanket and stood up, wrapping it around your figure. That damn radio head may have had a point after all. You released another long-winded breath and began making your way to your door.

The hallway walls were a sight for sore eyes, you pupils dilating as soon as you stepped out of your room. The heavy feeling in your lungs felt like it was building once again as you journeyed to the lobby. What would you say to them? Would they even want to talk to you? You stopped walking. What if they’re mad at you? You closed your eyes, shaking your head before continuing. You committed to this. No backing out now.

You finally made it to the top of the stairs that descended into the lobby. The blanket around your body felt like it was nearly constricting you with how tight you had it pulled. You sniffled quietly, eyes scanning the area and finally seeing them crowded around the old TV for movie night. 

Shuffling closer, you found that watching your feet take each small step closer made you less scared to address them. As soon as Vaggie caught sight of you, she paused the movie, elbowing Charlie and nodding towards you. Everyone soon followed her line of sight.

The silence signaled it was finally time to say something. An overwhelming heat pulsed throughout your body, ending within your cheeks.

“I…” the tears began bubbling the rim of your eyes. “I don’t know why I said those things. I don’t k-know why I’m feeling like this. I just feel… I feel sad, and I don’t know why!” Everything broke once again, large drops cascading down your cheeks endlessly as you began to cry. You used your blanket to wipe away the trails.

Charlie and Angel stood up immediately, coming to your side and embracing you. “It’s okay, Y/N.” The blonde softly consoled. “You don’t have to be happy all the time! And you never need a reason to be sad.”

“Sometimes, we just feel sad. And that’s okay.” Angel spoke, his voice mellow and comforting.  “Just share the sadness with us so you’re not alone, okay?”

“Yeah, and we’re always going to be here for you.” Vaggie stood and took a few steps closer.

“Come now,” Alastor gestured with his hand. “Join us while we continue watching this terrible picture show!”

“Yess! Come, come.” Pentious patted the middle seat of the couch as everyone awaited your answer. 

A surge of warmth blossomed throughout your body as you stared at them. Ever so gently, your lips pulled upward as you slowly nodded. They returned it before directing you to sit. Angel sat on the other side of you while Charlie returned to sit down with Vaggie and Niffty.

Pentious bent down to the ground and scooped up three of his egg boys and held them close. He leaned over to you, holding one out as an offer. Simon, the egg boy, opened his arms up towards you, awaiting to be held. You gently cradled him against you and smiled.

“This feels much better.” Charlie hummed, cuddled up with Vaggie. Your head fell onto Angel’s shoulder as you released a sigh. Even though you aren’t feeling a hundred percent all the time, at least you're surrounded by those who care about you. 

A beamy eye popped into your line of sight. “I made you this.” Niffty shot out her hand, a dead roach was disassembled and strung into a necklace. You flashed a strained smile. It really was the thought that counted.

“Thanks, Nifft.” She flitted back to her spot with a happy giggle and hearing it made you sigh in content. You glanced around the room, seeing everyone watching the movie.

Yeah, this really was much better.

likes and reblogs appreciated !! ♡

[jazzyoranges]

Late nights - drabble

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: sorry anon, i accidentally deleted the request 😓 but they asked for me to write a fic with tara in fem!reader’s hoodie (aka cuddly tara strikes again)

Words: 0.9k

A/n: hopefully a lil something to get me out of my writing slump. let’s hope this isn’t too bad considering i haven’t written in a few months 😅

You really didn’t mean to be out for so long

First your boss asks you to do one favor, then another, and next thing you know you’re at work for 4 hours more than you’re supposed to be. The asshole didn’t even pay you for all the extra shit you did! You made a mental note to go job hunting this week.

Maybe the gay club was looking for a stripper? Nah. Your girlfriend would get jealous

So you were angry. Angry about your paycheck

Next a few storm clouds roll up that night. Of course you forget to bring your rain jacket that day. Not to mention, rain feels like hail stones when you’re on your motorcycle. Apparently it’d be a cold day in hell before you dressed right for the weather

So along with being angry, you were cold and wet. Shitty might’ve been the lightest way you could’ve described your day

At least you could come home to your wonderful girlfriend in an apartment of your own. It took lots of convincing and hundreds of game nights to convince Sam to even accept the idea of you and Tara being alone together. Fortunately you were blessed with patience and homosexuality — two things that could withstand Sam’s will to protect her sister

Was the older Carpenter’s place on the floor right above you and Tara’s?

…

Yes. Yes it was.

But if it made your girlfriend and her sister happy, you had no reason to not be as well. Other than the elevator that never fucking worked but that was out of their hands

Your shirt and hair were absolutely soaked in rainwater by the time you reached your apartment door. The was a small trail of water behind you from where you walked but that might’ve been the least of your concerns. Fishing around in your damp pants for your keys, you fortunately find them without much effort

Opening the door with as little energy you can, you lock the door behind you and triple check you locked it just like Sam told you

Not wasting any time you slide off your wet shirt in the middle of your living room, throwing it on a chair and missing the younger Carpenter waiting on the couch for you half asleep

“Baby?” Tara rubs her eyes. You stand in the middle of your hallway like a deer in headlights. You were awfully vulnerable while wet and almost naked. Who knew.

Before you can respond, there’s shuffling behind you then something weighted and warm on your back. Tara’s leaning into you with her arms around your torso while you’re wet and almost naked in the middle of your hallway. What a sight.

“Why were you so late? You’re working tonight…” Your girlfriend’s hand dips a bit below your waistband and you have to resist the urge to shiver. From the cold? From Tara? Only god knew

“My boss had me do extra shit. I’ll find a different job that doesn’t have me out so late” You turn around to face Tara while her arms were still around you “I promise”

The younger Carpenter only hums into your chest without any sign of moving. So you don’t. It gives you the chance to really soak in the moment along with the rainwater on your skin. You only pull away when your girlfriend also starts to shiver

Of course she’s wearing nothing but a hoodie

Specifically, Tara’s wearing nothing but your hoodie

“How long have you been fighting sleep? Go to bed, love” You pick up your girlfriend with her legs wrapped around your waist and her arms loosely thrown around your neck

“Since you decided you hated me” Tara mumbles into your shoulder

“When was that?”

“When you didn’t come home on time”

“And I gave you a reason why I was late”

“Which doesn’t excuse you, because you could’ve hurried up” Tara plays with your bra strap as you stop walking toward your shared bedroom

“What I’m hearing is, you don’t want to take a late night shower with me? Even after a long day of work, where you could help me de-stress?” You say with a certain smugness in your voice

Your girlfriend whips her head up at your offer but you’ve already made it to your shared bed, not wasting a second to plop her down

“Waitbabypleaseididn’tmeanit-“ You’re already in the bathroom as Tara’s trying to scramble to you

“What? Sorry, love! Can’t hear you over the shower”

You had a childhood cat that always followed you around when you were younger. Tara reminded you of when your cat would scratch at the door whenever you went to the bathroom. Your girlfriend even had the scratching down just like your cat

When you were about to hop in the bath for a quick shower, something stops you from getting in. The imagery alone that Tara is probably leaning against the door waiting for you to get out is enough to pull at your heartstrings

You weren’t mean. You missed Tara as much as she missed you. It’s why she always wore your hoodies and you always took her shirts that fit you

So against your better judgment and the water bill you’re going to have to take Advil for, you unlock the bathroom door but you don’t open it

You’re both in the shower and you’re in Tara less than a second later

[kaivenom]

I just found your blog looking for Spencer white fics and yours are so good! I was wondering if you’d be willing to write something between spider and a gn reader who finds it really attractive when he speaks French (cause that scene did something to me-)

Thank you for feeding the small amount of hbh fics🙏🙏

French cuisine

Summary: you go to Spencer's house and found him cooking, you decide to help him and you discover he can speak french.

Pairing: Spencer "Spider" White x gn!reader

A/N: Sorry that this had taken so long, college is starting the final section before exams an i am going crazy. Words on cursive are the translation from french.

It was an ussual Friday, you were going to Spencer's house, see some movies and eat popcorn. When you entered the house with the keys you borrowed, a french song was playing on the background, that was strange you thought, it must be his mother. Following the song, you found Spencer in the kitchen with an apron full of flour and humming the song.

"Look what we have here, the perfect 50's housewife," you joked while you get to hugh him from behind.

"Bonjour." he asked with a smile.

"Bonjour."

"Comment allez-vous?" you didn't understand anything and that made you question things.

"Wait, don't tell me you know how to speak french?"

"Yeah, i know, but i don't have to do it everytime... it's awful when people ask me: can you say something in french? or things like that."

"But you could have told me, i am your girlfriend." you tightened your grip among his waist and made a pout.

"I don't like to brag about it, but now you know."

"Yeah, right. What you said to me before?"

"How are you?" he turned around and kissed your forehead.

"Good, you?"

"Bon." something on the form he said it, made you blush.

"I suppose that means good."

"Correct." he put a finger with fluor on your nose, painting it white.

"Can you say more to me?" you make puppy eyes and like always, he can't resist.

"Tu es très belle," your heart skipped a heartbeat, you didn't know what he said but hearing him talking in french was exciting you more every secon. "i said you are very beautiful."

"Yeah?" his hands went to your cheeks and kissed you.

"Tu es la meilleure personne du monde." his lips drain your soul with every word and every kiss in between. You are the best person in the world

"Tell me more, please."

"Je t'aime... tes lèvres... ton corps... tes sons." his kisses increased, in speed, in intensity and passion, he was starting to feel very aroused by your reaction. I love you... your lips... your body... your sounds.

"I don't know what you said but i do too." you both laughed inoccently, for a moment unaware from the steamy interaction you both were having.

"Je veux faire du sexe avec toi." a moan almost escaped your mouth, you only understood one word and that was enough.

Then you started to smell burnt but apparently Spider was so concentrated in kissing your lips and neck, that he had forgotten he was cooking and also that he had things on the pans... that now are burning.

"How do you say the kitchen is on fire?"

"La cuisine est en feu." only a second was needed before he understood your words.

You both had to run to turn off the fire and open the windows to vent the kitchen. Nothing was saved from the disaster so you decided to order some french food to honor the ocassion and finish what you both started.

[emeraldborealis]

Grotesque

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x FEM!reader

TW//CW: DARK FIC, stalking, vibes of somnophilia ish, sexual harassment, nonconsensual touching, threats, mention of cannibalism but no cannibalism, threatened necrophilia, a creep calls reader a whore, murder, graphic depictions of gore, blood, shock induced mania, talk of human taxidermy, no use of y/n. Dead dove do not eat. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION.

Words: 4,641

A/N: Now you may be wondering, Emerald, what the actual hell is this? Well, I wanted to know if I could still write dark fics. And I thought it was time to remind everyone this started as a horror writing blog.

STOP! Have you heeded the warnings on this fic?

People say something special happens when you fall in love, that suddenly everything else doesn't matter. That there's a warmth and gentleness that grows inside of you towards the other person.

But not for Ghost.

Ghost doesn't deal in warm gentleness. Simon did, but Simon is dead and buried in Mexico.

When Ghost saw you he did feel something sudden, an urge to keep everyone else away from you, an urge to protect, an urge to keep and shepherd. 

So he did.

From a distance he kept his eye on you, watched you go through your days, completely unsuspecting. Or so he thought.

You knew he was there, you knew from day one. Knowing he was there was more of a comfort than a fear, so when the sound of your front door opening in the middle of the night came to your ears you were more than content to pretend you were still asleep.

Keeping your breathing even and deep, keeping your expression neutral, letting nothing tip him off to the fact you were awake was a skill you learned in your youth, one you needed to survive the house you grew up in.

You were lonely, and you were alright with him taking advantage of that. You wanted him in your life because there was nothing else in your life. A phantom, a ghost willing to watch over you. Something that stayed in the dark, content with silent control.

His footsteps were light coming down the hall, almost silent, if you weren't listening for him you wouldn't have heard him. You wondered how many times he'd come and you hadn't woken up.

Hearing him pause in the hallway you imagined him looking at your photos, committing them all to memory, each one of their locations and if they were perfectly level or not. You knew he'd take in every detail before moving on, he just seemed like the type.

Your door used to make noise when it opened, but a month back it suddenly stopped. A reminder of his silent presence ever lingering, you often wondered if he'd fixed other things for the convenience of his watching, of his sneaking.

Nothing was allowed to jeopardize his stalking, nothing was allowed to tip you off to his presence. Nothing was allowed to give you evidence to stop him.

Listening, you heard him move silently through your room, coming to stand beside your bed, your acting was imperceivable, especially when you weren't looking for it.

You didn't react when the soft feeling of a gloved hand trailed over your face, the glove was rough, but he used it gently, kept his touch featherlight, barely even there.

His hand went from your face down your exposed arm, feeling the lovely skin of your appendage sticking out of the blankets for the sake of regulating your body temperature. The feeling nearly made gooseflesh blossom on your skin, nearly made you shudder. Do sleeping people shudder? Looking into that could be good for future visits from your stalker.

You felt his figure lean over you, breathing you in like a bad habit, when he was satisfied he moved from your side of the bed to the other side. Gently, he laid himself down, stiff as a board laying on his back, staring at the ceiling. You were familiar with this routine by now.

He laid like a corpse, his hands clasped together over his chest. He never did more than this, never touched, never hurt. He just laid beside you for a few hours before leaving just as silently as he came, always making sure to whisper 'sweet dreams' to you before leaving hours before your alarm for work would blare into your room.

Every once and a while you would dare to put your arm over him, sometimes he moved your arm gently off of him, sometimes he let it stay.

Sometimes he watches you sleep, either facing you in bed or sitting in your desk chair.

You wished you understood him, understood why he does the things he does. Wish you understood why he didn't do certain things.

He really was a ghost, your Ghost. A mystery you weren't sure you'd ever figure out.

Rolling onto your back you flopped your arm on him, not holding him, just touching him, testing him. He didn't remove your arm this night, he let it stay, resting right above where his hands were.

You had no clue what he looked like, not really. The few times you dared a peak he was wearing a balaclava with a skull on it. But you'd grown familiar with how he breathed, the rise and fall of his large chest. That was what mattered to you, not his face. Not who he was under the skull.

Feeling him beside you didn't feel wrong, it didn't feel nauseating or dangerous. He had the capability to do harm, but he'd never left any indication that was his intention. He just seemed interested in watching you live your life. Why? You didn't know.

Sometimes you thought about what would happen if he decided to have malicious intent, how far he might go. What he might do. He was a strange man stalking you, and you were letting him. 

You were just asking to be an episode on a true crime podcast, solved or unsolved? What would it be? You suspected unsolved, even if you lived.

If he killed you how would he do it? It was interesting to think about. Would he hack you into pieces? String you apart, pull at your nervous system. Dissect you like a frog. Maybe he'd fillet you, hang you up and eat you. Or perhaps he'd take it slower, break your ankles and watch you starve to death helpless on the floor, he did like to watch you.

If he hurt you, if he touched you, he'd want to watch you as he did it. He'd want to see your face as it contorted into pain.

Really at the end of the day he was a man, no different from any other, you were risking just as much being around him as any other man. At least you believed if he witnessed another man trying to attack you he'd intervene, protect his territory.

His belongings.

Did he see himself as your keeper? Or more like a guard dog? What were his intentions here? Why was he this little shadow in your life? It seemed like he was always there, a force that lingered around you.

Your Ghost, something that was becoming a more common name for him in your mind. It seemed fitting.

To say you weren't attached to him would be a lie, he's grown on you, something consistent, something you could make yourself believe was there to be good for you. You were becoming just as infatuated with him as he seemed to be with you.

You were comfortable falling asleep beside him, letting him stay as long as he wanted before leaving. He always locked the door on his way out, after all, he was the only one allowed to creep into your home.

Shifting in bed you got more comfortable, you needed to let yourself fall back asleep if you wanted to be able to function well at work tomorrow. Your Ghost paid no mind to your shifting, he's watched you sleep in actuality and faking it enough to believe he'll never get caught. Not knowing he already has been.

At some point in the night you vaguely feel the bed shift, faintly hear his deep voice whisper something in your ear, and his soft footsteps as he leaves.

In the morning there was no trace of him, nothing tipping you off to the fact he was ever even there, nothing but your memory.

You dreaded your arrival at work, dreaded seeing him. 

Brian.

A creep in HR, you would have reported him by now but he was who you would file those reports to. You didn't know who else to file a report to, nothing was serious enough for police intervention. 

At least there was no evidence serious enough for police intervention.

Sometimes you hoped your Ghost knew about him, that he was watching your back, though you doubted he watched you at work. Still, the thought of him handling this was not unwelcome. You took a strange comfort in it actually.

Brian was not welcome in your life, he was pushy, touchy, didn't understand boundaries. Something about him gave you the heebie-jeebies, like he was doing all sorts of nefarious things to you in his mind, planning them out, waiting to execute them.

You hated how he watched you, he was doing more than just undressing you with his eyes. Something about the way he looked at you made you feel like he wanted to do more to your skin than just molest it. Do more than possess and sink under your surface.

He looked to covet. Your Ghost looked to encroach and observe.

You liked how your Ghost watched you, like a guard dog willing to be sicked on anyone, to be your defense, to get them off of you, to keep them away from you.

"Come on, doll. When are you going to agree to come over? Let me pour you a drink, I promise I can mix you up something you'll like. Or at least let me drive you home sometime, there's no need to take the train when it's raining. Don't want you catching a cold." Brian cooed to you, walking with you as you made your way to the elevator, he always waited for you.

You'd only step into the elevator with him when it was crowded, otherwise you'd wait, make an excuse and talk to the lady at the front desk until you saw someone you knew would go up to your floor or above.

You refused to be alone with him. Not even for a second.

"I don't drink. And I like the rain." You shot him down, trying to step around him, but his arm caught your waist, stopping you.

"Okay, how about we watch a movie? Play a game?" He gave your waist a squeeze, testing your patience. He was a persistent man who believed he would get what he wanted. You wondered how many times he had. How many girls came before you.

"I'm not interested." Spinning out of his hold you continued walking towards the elevator, a good group of people already waiting.

"Come on, doll. I'll make it worth your time." He trailed after you.

You didn't like the thought that he had access to your address, that he might know where you lived, that all he'd have to do to figure it out is look at your personal records.

"I have a boyfriend. We're serious, he stays the night almost every night. I'm not interested." A small lie, laced with truth, you did have a man who stays the night. Your Ghost. You needed him to know you weren't alone at night.

There was a warning light in your brain that was starting to predict something. Something was coming. How does the quote go? 'By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.'

Something was coming, something you were not sure how to stop. You were in terrible danger, you could feel it in the way his hands defiled you with their touch. Scorching and burning with how atrocious it was.

"That's alright, I just want to spend time with you. Nothing serious." Everyday he grew more bold. A predator closing in on their prey.

You were not going to be a boiled frog, you knew when this started, and you know the temperature is rising to dangerous peaks.

How many girls has he done this to?

How many.

"I don't think my boyfriend would like that, he's protective." Joining the others waiting on the elevator you watched the floor indicator, nearly holding your breath waiting for it to reach ground level.

"Protective? I'm no danger." Leaning in closer he whispered in your ear, careful now that you were surrounded by people. No witnesses. No one else could hear his persistence, it might one day arise suspicion.

"I like to spend time with him when I'm off work. I'm a busy person." You took a breath as the elevator doors opened, stepping inside with everyone else.

"We'll talk more about this later. I just want to get to know the next employee of the month better." His voice was sickeningly charming, his words derailing your train of thought.

"What?" You hadn't heard anything about that, you weren't even super important in your department. He was baiting you with reward. Setting himself up as innocent, someone who was rooting for you. A devastated work friend when he hears of your inevitable disappearance.

He played this game too well.

How many girls came before?

How many times has he gotten away with this?

"I pulled some strings, got you some well earned recognition. We need to celebrate it." His smile was all teeth, unnatural. It was a threat.

You really couldn't tell anyone about this now, not after he's painted himself as the good guy. Just trying to get employee's recognition. You'd sound like an ungrateful asshole. No one would listen.

No one would listen.

"Today, we will celebrate today." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. 

Whatever he was planning, whatever he was going to do to you, he was going to do it today. Nothing was going to stop him or get in his way. He was coming for you, going for the throat. 

You worked in paranoia and unease, took an early lunch just to avoid any possibility of running into him and completely left the building, went to a very public place for lunch. Didn't even pay attention to what you ordered, not even sure you paid before walking away. You got your food though, so someone paid.

In your panicked state you were struggling to pay any attention to the people around you, only looking for one person in the crowds of people. But he wasn't there. Brian wasn't there. Not that you could see.

Running into someone on your way to the door out of the restaurant you apologize, catching his eyes, they were brown. He was tall, well built. Dirty blonde. He oozed an energy that settled you, like your body knew him. Of course it didn't, you'd never seen this man in your life. There was just something about him.

"No worries, love." You couldn't shake your feeling of deja vu hearing his voice. "Keep your head on straight, no ones goin' to get you."

What an odd thing to say to a stranger.

"Um, thanks." You didn't know what else to say. How else to respond. You stand in front of him a moment more, awkwardly looking at him. There was just something about him you couldn't place. 

Checking the time you turned to walk away, you were going over your thirty minute lunch break. You needed to get back to work. Even if you'd rather have your eyes gouged out than have the possibility to run into Brian ever again. 

You were jumpy the rest of the work day, hypervigilant to everything around you. It wasn't atypical for Brian to interrupt your work, but he didn't come to bother you today. 

You tried to leave work early to avoid him, but he was already waiting for you when you reached the main floor. 

"I missed you at lunch today." There was something sinister in his eyes, something that didn't match his tone of forced pleasantry. "No matter. We'll go to that new pub tonight. We can meet there or I will pick you up." It was a threat, a subtle way to make sure you knew he knew where you lived. That he would come for you if you tried to skip out on him.

You'd rather he come to your house. Maybe your faithful watchdog would step in, maybe he'd help you. Maybe he'd stop him. Protect what's his. 

If not, you'd rather have whatever's going to happen, happen somewhere you know. Somewhere you've once felt safe. You'd rather die surrounded by your memories than wherever he'd take you, somewhere probably cold and unfeeling. 

"Okay." You had nothing else to say, rejection wouldn't work. This wasn't ever going to be a date, this was always going to be an assault. 

You were scared. A cornered animal with no way out. Despite your best efforts the water was starting to boil, and you had let it happen. 

Getting home didn't calm your nerves, it almost made them worse. Waiting for the arrival of the beast, waiting to be devoured, bones and all. 

Is this how the spring lambs feel? Screaming as they go down the line to the slaughter. All just to satisfy a man's hunger. 

Is that all women are good for? Satisfying men's hunger, lust, need for violence. Has it always been this way? Women are fucked and murdered. Will they ask what you were wearing? Blame the victim like they always do. 

Like they always do.

Maybe this would have eventually happened with your Ghost too, maybe this was just how the world works. Maybe men just have that right.

It was inevitable, unpreventable. 

It was late when the knock finally came, the sun long gone. There was nothing, no one who would shine a light on what was about to happen. Only the women with their podcasts will ever wonder what really happened to you. What led to this. 

Making eye contact with your front door only death stared back. Wicked wasn't coming. Wicked was here upon you, waiting for you to open the door for it to come in and take you. 

The knock came again, like the toll of a bell. Ringing through your ears like a sick mantra. There was no way out of this. There was nothing you could do.

Your feet shuffled towards the door, it was like walking down death row. 

The bell tolls for you. 

There was a hope inside of you that you'd open the door to your Ghost, that he's come to save you. That you could let in your stalker rather than your murderer. 

Grasping your doorknob felt like grabbing red hot metal, scorching and branding your skin, the last thing that would probably ever have your full set of fingerprints. 

You wondered if you'd fight, if you'd fight to survive or if you'd let him kill you.

It's a strange feeling, coming face to face with your mortality. 

Slowly you twisted the doorknob, letting the devil in. 

"I knew you'd let me in." The door was pushed open, pushing you back, removing your last barrier. Bringing you face to face with Brian. "A whore like you was probably just waiting for a guy like me to come along. You wanted this. Didn't you? You want me to ravage you, don't you? So needy."

He was clutching his stomach, he was bleeding. He'd been stabbed. 

You couldn't make sense of it. Was it your Ghost? Where was he now? Was he dead? Did he try to stop this? 

Brian reached for you, making you stumble back, out of his grasp. 

"Don't." Your feet wouldn't take you farther, they wouldn't let you run away. They'd take you right where he couldn't reach you, but they wouldn't let you get away. 

Maybe you did want this. Maybe every girl wanted this. Maybe that's why men thought it was okay.

"Come on, don't be like that. I know I kept you waiting but I got held up." He took a step closer, stalking towards you. "You'll look so good with the others."

No.

You didn't want this. You never wanted this. No one ever wanted this. 

This wasn't right.

He didn't have the right.

Your mind was flittering, it was hard to make it work, hard to force yourself to stay present. It's always been hard to make it work in situations like this, it hurts less when you just let yourself get hurt. But you didn't want to be hurt anymore. 

"Don't touch me." You took another step back, he was blocking the front door, but you could get out the back. Maybe someone will help you, maybe your neighbors will let you in.

"Come on, you knew it'd always come to this. I'm taking you home." You should have done more, should have opened the door with a knife. Should have been ready for him.

"No. You're not." Turning you ran, struggling with the backdoor for a moment in your adrenaline and panic, but you got it open. Slipping out you held down a scream, it wouldn't help you right now to lose your mind screaming. You needed to get away.

You didn't get far before he was on you.

Hands pushed you down to the ground, flipping you on your back, his hands found purchase on your neck, pulling you up before bashing you down, knocking the wind out of you. "A pretty doll like you would be better stuffed, skin perfectly preserved and taxidermied. Of course it would be better if I could have killed you without leaving damage, your bastard friend made sure that couldn't be a possibility. He got his, and you'll get yours."

Hands squeezed at your throat, the pressure in your head overwhelming, your eyes felt like they were going to pop out of your skull. Maybe that would help with the pressure.

"I'll separate your head from your body, that will take care of these marks. I'll figure something out for the rest of the damage. But don't worry, I'll turn you into a work of art. You'll be the prettiest out of them all." 

Wrestling with your panicking body he slotted himself between your legs to continue to choke you, pressing uncomfortably into you. A promise of what would come once you stopped moving.

You were going to die. He was going to kill you.

You were going to die.

Your hands desperately reached out, searching. Searching for anything that could help you. This couldn't be it, he couldn't do this. You couldn't die.

Finding a large rock you took hold of it with all your might, bashing it against his head, making him fall limp on top of you, blood from his head soaking into your hair, his face partially on yours.

His open mouth wreaked of Benson & Hedges cigarettes and tooth rot, saliva leaking onto your cheek. Pushing with all your might you shoved him off, adrenaline didn't allow for your hand to relax enough to drop your rock, the veins in your arms rising to the surface.

When his face scrunched and his body twitched you could hear a scream. Was that you? You didn't know anymore. Your body moved without prompt, bashing him again. And again, and again.

You hardly flinched as the blood peppered your skin, drops of crimson spraying your face. You bashed to the symphony of bones cracking, it was the only thing you could hear, the only thing filling your ears, and yet you continued, bashing until the rock in your hands was hard to hold, slippery and covered in red and grey matter.

You bashed until you felt the rock connect with the damp grass through where his face once was, nothing recognizable left of his head, nothing but the skull fragments and brain matter. Everything else was unidentifiable.

Horror and shock filled you at the sight, he wasn't dead was he? He couldn't be. He can't be dead. He wasn't a person who was dead, so he couldn't be dead.

Desperately you felt for a pulse on his neck. You didn't find one. As a last ditch effort you checked the hole of his stab wound in his stomach. It was warm. He was still warm.

He was okay. He was alright. Dead people aren't warm.

But that warmth meant he wasn't done, he wasn't done killing you, he hadn't succeeded yet. The thought made you scream. He wasn't done with you.

He hadn't succeeded yet, and he was supposed to succeed, that was his goal wasn't it? He couldn't fail. You couldn't have stopped him, you weren't capable of that. You were just a girl. You didn't have that right.

You needed more of his warmth, needed it coating you. Needed him to finish his task. His warmth was proof he would.

Searching for more you pressed your fingers inside, warmth squishing around your fingers, it felt good. Familiar almost. A familiar squelch. 

It was what you needed. More. More. More.

Wriggling your fingers inside you tested the limits of the wound, it wouldn't stretch farther, you couldn't get to more of his warmth.

But you needed more.

Getting fingers in from both hands you searched for grip through the unending amounts of red liquid around your hands.

Finding it you pulled, tearing it apart, the feeling of ripping flesh a rewarding feeling.

You were getting more, getting to the warmth. 

Your digits were digging now, puncturing into his gut, ripping and tearing, pulling out viscera and entrails. Blood perfectly coated the scene, coated you, painting an elegant picture in rouge, and most importantly, warmth.

There was a need, a desire, this couldn't be over yet, he couldn't be done yet. He wasn't done yet. You weren't dead yet, so he wasn't done.

Something pulled tight around your neck, a scarf of the small intestine, wrapping, suffocating. Pulled this tight it almost felt like his hands lovingly around your neck once more, crushing your windpipe. This was that beautiful feeling you were looking for, this was what you needed.

He wasn't done, he hadn't finished yet. You weren't dead yet, but now he could finish, now his slick warmth could finish the job.

Pulling tighter on the two ends of the thin warm viscera that same pressure in your skull was building again, a fuzziness in your vision. You couldn't breathe. It was perfect.

You needed more.

Pulling harder the scarf tightened, it wasn't enough yet, you needed to pull tighter, harder.

With the grotesque sound of tearing the pressure around your neck was gone. Air now filling your lungs in gasps, a burning feeling accompanying each inhale.

Looking down you were still holding the intestine, now in two pieces, the fluids from inside of it making your skin irritated and itchy.

He'd failed. Again.

Hearing a sound from behind you didn't startle you, turning your head your eyes met the hollow eyes of your Ghost, the white of his skull balaclava nearly glowing in the dark. "I broke him." You mumbled, disappointed, presenting the two ends of his guts to him. "You would have finished the job, right? You wouldn't have broke?"

"Of course, love." Crouching beside you he wiped the blood on your check. "I wouldn't break on you like 'e did."

"He wasn't done. He was supposed to kill me. And now he's just a mess. A useless mess. And I'm covered in him." Tears fell from your eyes, your voice whining out of your sore throat.

"Don't cry, you're perfect." Your Ghost pulled the intestine from your hands, letting it fall onto the heap of Brian's unidentifiable carcass. "Come on now, let's get you cleaned up."

The feeling of his arms slipping around your back and under your knees wasn't repulsive like it was when Brian would touch you, your Ghost's touch wasn't nauseating.

Hoisting you up your Ghost carried you away from the scene. "But what about the mess here?"

"I've called people who will come take care of it, I 'ave connections. The police will get involved, 'is victims families deserve to know what 'appened to them. But nothin' bad will happen to you. You'll be just fine. I'll make sure of it. I'm takin' care of you now, love. There's nothin' to worry about." His voice was soothing, the nose of his skull balaclava pressing against your temple. "I've got you now."

[munariplans]

Hello there, Your writing deserves a Michelin star. I eat it up every time and I’m NEVER disappointed. Thank you. If I may, I’d request (in a very polite and “no pressure” tone) a fic about Natasha and spider-reader regarding the Odesa mission Natasha outlines in The Winter Solider or a “first time” fic for the couple if you are comfortable.

Keeping doing what you are doing. You are great at it. In the meantime, I will be talking to Michelin about getting you more stars.

synopsis: based on the request for the odessa mission above! plus a backstory and a little character exploration of our spidey!reader, wherein the mission highlights a little of their dynamic too.

natasha romanoff x reader

word count: 3.4k words

a/n: i'm back :) thank you everyone for your patience, and i hope you enjoy this one.

masterlist

a thumb brushing over your own. her knee pressed up against yours. her scent calming your senses down. natasha was beside you, red hair a stark contrast to the all-black tactical suit. on her face, was a comforting look. she didn’t smile, but she didn’t need to. her being there was enough. 

“you okay?” you knew she knew something was troubling you deeply. but for the sake of the mission, yours and her sanity, and the engineer sitting behind the both of you at the train station, she didn’t ask. you thought she did it so naturally, being able to comfort you. 

you didn’t know it was taking all she had in her not to freak out. she wasn’t sure if this was what people did, or how best she could do to comfort you. she could only reciprocate what she found she liked best when you comforted her. but in the presence of everyone else, she couldn’t do the last thing you always did for her; pull her into the tightest hug and let the world itself disappear away. she knew the both of you needed to be half-alert, at least. 

natasha felt like she was the one breathing out a sigh of relief when the wrinkles in your forehead disappeared slightly, your own thumb rubbing hers back. “yeah, i–i’m fine.”

“do you want to talk about it…?” she was pushing her luck. 

you looked back at the engineer. he was asleep. the contact for the rental car wasn’t due to arrive in an hour. natasha looked back at him as well, and offered you a small smile, “ninety percent of the mission’s done anyway. simple in and out, get him transported back to SHIELD. makes me wonder why fury asked us both. maybe he felt guilty for sending you away on that undercover for so long; let us have a little bit of a workcation together.”

your mind was screaming at you; but you shrugged and gave her a smile back. “yeah. maybe he did.”

she didn’t know that you and her had separate missions, after all. while hers had been to sneak into the research facility and escort the engineer out, and transport him safely back to SHIELD, you had been informed that there would be…obstacles, in the way. you just didn’t know when.

you remembered the meeting with fury well. you had told him, that with such a statute and reputation the winter soldier had, that you weren’t confident of taking him alone, especially in a place so out of your element. but he had reassured you that you would be fine, and that you should focus on your own assignment when the time came, while natasha focused hers solely on the engineer. you had thought it wasn’t very fair. natasha deserved to know of any dangers, at least, that might pop up, but fury insisted that since it was one of her first few missions as a team lead, he hadn’t wanted to shake her confidence. you had no choice but to comply. 

turning your attention back to the hand holding yours, you squeezed it for a moment, then said, “when we get back, can we…just…have a break around the chrysler building? the rooftop, just you and me?”

natasha nodded. she understood. and she didn’t push.

—

when the three of you finally reached odessa, you sat with the engineer as natasha convinced the guards to let you through without passports. knowing russian, aided with a heavy handed helping of flirting and subtle lowering of her zipper, definitely did wonders. and while nervous as you were, spider-senses tingling all over for the winter soldier, you still managed to let out a less-than-annoyed tsk when she returned, taking great care to zip up the rest of her suit and glaring at the guards behind her. 

“careful,” she smirked, hand reaching for your cheek to turn your eyes to her, “they won’t let us through if they don’t at least find it believable that they can have me.”

“no one else can have you,” you replied, but she was already walking towards the car, hips swaying purposefully so, and another wave of irritation crept up upon you, “no one, you hear me?”

natasha waited for the engineer to get in, before chuckling and looking back at you. “are you getting in, spidey?”

when you had safely passed the borders and began driving on the snowy, white roads, natasha unbuckled her seatbelt for a minute, before pulling you in from your attention on the road to steal your breath with her lips. it was only when the cherry from her lipstick had fully melted into the heat of your mouth did she let go, panting just as hard as you were. you were very thankful the roads were empty. 

“god, i love it when you get jealous,” she muttered. 

to her displeasure, however, the engineer behind let out a disgusted scoff, and murmured, “you guys know i’m here, right?”

“yes, and we don’t mind returning you right back to HYDRA if you complain one more time,” you replied.

—

at a gas station pit stop, natasha knew it was wrong to pry, but she caught a glimpse of your wallet as you paid for snacks on the trip, and an old, almost-faded picture of a younger you next to an older woman was all that her eyes could zero on. you were in a new, freshly-ironed SHIELD uniform, and the woman had her hand on your shoulder, grin mirroring yours. natasha had never seen her before. 

you shut the wallet promptly after, and natasha trailed behind as you both returned to your car. 

about an hour into the drive later, with the engineer’s soft snores behind the both of you, and natasha’s own eyes drooping, she knew she had to keep the both of you awake somehow. 

“you can take a nap, it’s okay,” you told her, but she sat up, the sight of your wallet on the dashboard reminding her of her curiosity earlier. 

she angled her head to face you, admiring the older, finer lines on your face that grew more beautiful as time passed. the younger you couldn’t compare to the sight she was treated to now. 

“you always this good-looking, or did something happen when you were younger, to turn you like this?” she decided to start. 

a tint of red on your cheeks, you chuckled nervously. “um…i don’t think….no. i’ve always been like this.” 

“was SHIELD your first job?”

“my first job was when i was twelve. worked for a car mechanic near my place. then i took up newspaper delivery, then a restaurant, researched for my university, and a ton of other jobs,” you said sheepishly, “i wasn’t…that well-to-do.” 

she let her thumb caress your cheek. you relaxed a little more. “what did you study?”

“quantum physics. full-ride scholarship, or i never would’ve been able to afford those years.” 

then, after a beat of silence, you continued. “it was also where fury found me. recruited me to SHIELD intelligence then. i guess you could say it was my first official job. i wasn’t…uh…wasn’t supposed to be front-facing, you know? i wasn’t a combat agent or anything, just the intelligence. i was in intelligence for five years.” 

“what changed?” 

you looked at her through the mirror, eyes carrying an emotion natasha could not quite figure out. you looked away again, before sighing. “intelligence got bombed one day, everything was on fire. i was helping my teammates escape, was one of the last few out, and a burning pillar fell on me. i almost died then, paralysed from the waist down. i guess nick felt bad, that the medal of bravery he awarded could only do so much to my current situation. felt even worse when he saw my mother crying by my side. he gave me a second chance.”

“the spider serum.”

“it was experimental then, i believe the number of exclusion of liability clauses i signed reached the hundreds. i was lucky it worked. there were a few others…not so lucky ones.”

natasha reached over the console to where your leg was shaking, and she ran her palm up and down, helping you regain your sanity. “thank you for telling me.”

“it’s not–” you never finished your sentence, because in the next second, your senses overloaded with warning signals, and your hands moved quicker than your brain in swerving the car, the steering wheel jammed to the left so the bullets that you barely saw incoming landed on the car’s tires instead of the glass and right at the engineer. you remembered the engineer screaming as the car skidded off of the cliff, and you remembered jumping out right then to shoot a hanger web to save it from falling completely and crashing onto the ground. 

you groaned as you gripped onto the web, feet planted on the ground as you tried pulling the car back up. you have to be quick, quicker than this. he’s here, your mind ran through those thoughts, but your arms were burning. you pulled little by little, hoping natasha was protecting the engineer down below, and the car was moving. it was probably a minute before it was near the edge, and you had one last pull left to bring it up again. 

but of course, right as the wheel of the car barely touched the ground you were on again, a blunt force came ramming to the side of your head. you could hear the metal whirring of the winter soldier’s metallic arm as you felt the webs slip from your fingers, sending the car right over again.

—

luckily, the last of your webbings managed to catch on the railings of the edge of the cliff, preventing the car from crashing, but merely hanging precariously in the air. 

the blaring pain in the right side of your head was all-too-consuming, but you managed to recover and gather yourself quickly enough, to see him in full view, stature almost twice of yours, face looking down to where the car was hanging. then, the winter soldier raised his rifle, and taking aim, you flew off from where you were to tackle him, throwing him off as the bullet landed astray. he grunted in annoyance, fighting you off as you tried snatching his gun off of him. your legs were straddling his torso, holding him down as the gun was wrestled between the two of you. from below, natasha was holding onto the engineer’s arm, watching the fight as she tried to figure out an alternative escape plan; rather than merely relying on you.

but when the winter soldier felt the gun finally slipping away from his hands, instead of pulling it back, however, he gave one final grunt, before pulling you in. the air was knocked out of your lungs as he slammed the both of you against the railing, his metal arm then travelling to your neck, squeezing as tight as he could. 

natasha watched in horror as you struggled against his hold, her heart dropping to the pit of her stomach as the winter soldier began choking you. it didn’t look like a fight you could win, and her hand went to the handgun in her thigh holster, taking a leap of faith and shooting at him. 

the bullet riveted off his metal arm, but it was enough. the man took his eyes off of you for a moment, and zeroed in on natasha. unfortunately, it meant that he noticed the engineer behind her too, and immediately, he threw you off of the cliff, and came closer to her. she wished she had the capacity to worry about you, but she was immediately obligated to protect the engineer first.

she angled her body over his, heart pumping in her chest as the winter soldier took aim again. from how she was shielding the engineer, and the angle the winter soldier was at, there was no way he would have a clear aim. he wouldn’t take the shot. 

surely not, she thought, as his gun clicked. surely not, she thought again, as the look in his eyes became empty, almost as if he was seeing through her. surely not. he pulled the trigger. 

the last thing natasha could register was the burning sear on the side of her stomach, before she was falling straight into the sea below. 

—

on your end, you caught the moment right as the shot was fired, and immediately jumped off of where you landed to catch both bodies falling through the air before they hit impact and broke the surface of the water. while you were thankful that natasha’s distraction worked, it was even more horrifying to have to pull her body out of the water beside the engineer’s, your eyes fixated on the gaping wound on her stomach. 

you dragged them to shore, and it was then that you noticed both of them were bleeding out, the wound on natasha was bigger than you imagined, and the bullet was still lodged within the engineer, you were sure, as he grappled with a neck that was drenched in red. he was struggling to breathe, mouth opening and closing desperately as the blood loss incapacitated him. 

you were cruelly reminded of your own assignment to capture and / or kill the winter soldier, as you glanced upwards to where he was, half-expecting him to be gone already. but he was there, standing still and watching you. almost as if he was challenging you. the hatred rumbling in your heart could not account for the disappointment you felt in already failing the mission. he held eye contact with you, gun no longer aiming at either you or natasha, but instead tucked into safety. his head tilted for a moment, you heard a car pulling up a few seconds later, and he broke eye contact first. entering the car leisurely, he made his getaway without pursuit.

you contemplated giving chase, swinging upwards and taking him down. killing him with your own bare hands, for what he did to natasha, stuffing his own gun down his throat– 

natasha shuddered underneath you, and those thoughts were gone as fast as they came, replaced by the instinctive need to stay and make sure she makes it out of this alive. you gathered the first aid materials from the boot of the hanging car, cursing when you dug through the kit and only found the bare minimum. half a roll of bandages, stitches, and some antiseptic. barely enough to only keep one of them alive.

when you made it back down, the engineer was seizing, and you had to turn him on his side and stabilise him for a brief moment, the coldness in your fingers not merely from the frozen waters you had just come out of. natasha, clutching onto her side, managed to notice your dilemma, and the materials you had, and her hand reached out for yours. 

she was shaking, and on the verge of bleeding out, but her hands were more steady than yours. she knew. she shook her head as you began grabbing the antiseptic for her wound. 

“save him. they…they…need him more,” she choked out, eyes darting between you and the engineer, but the tears brimming in your eyes barely noticed it. you swallowed down a broken sob, looking between the two one last time, before making your final decision. 

fuck the assignment. fuck fury, and SHIELD, and anyone else who was going to punish you for saving natasha, anyone who even thought of saving the engineer over natasha, anyone who thought natasha was more dispensable than the engineer. you let go of natasha’s hand, and began working on her, despite her protests. the antiseptic splashed onto her wound, the stitches came weaving through her skin, you tuned out everything else to save the woman you loved first.

even the engineer groaning beside you. even his hand gripping faintly on your suit, him pleading, “i…have a family…a kid…back home. p-please.”

a kid back home. i’m killing this man with a kid back home. you were the worst person in the world, you were sure, as you spared a look at him, his lips blue and pale by then. natasha had used up all the supplies then, so all you could do was hold his hand, angling him at a half-sitting position against your body, and murmuring i’m sorry to him about a thousand times. 

“...please.”

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” you were killing the main objective of the mission. you were killing an innocent man because of your own selfishness. 

his blood was on you, literally and figuratively, as your hands could only do so much to press against the bullet wound and try to prevent him from dying so soon. but it was imminent; he was never going to make it back, and you and him knew it. the bullet was still lodged somewhere in the back of his neck, and life was leaving his eyes. 

you held him until he took his last breath, still apologising. 

— 

when you reached out to check on natasha for a moment, her skin was getting colder then, too. the stitches and bandages could only hold for so long, and her condition would drop steadily if you didn’t make a move soon. there was no time to wait for help to arrive. so you made the final decision to rest the engineer’s body to where emergency services could easily find him, made a call for help, and promptly brought natasha home first. 

—

it was inevitable that you were suspended for almost a year for what you did. you had taken the brunt of the punishment, and volunteered to take natasha’s end of it too. fury had never looked more disappointed, and upper management had a field day berating you for your poor decision-making. you distinctly remembered one of them yelling at fury that you were the reason why they should implement a relationship ban among agents. 

you should have known better. you knew you should have done better, as well. more than blaming the winter soldier, everybody could see that it was your own self that you placed the heaviest blame on. the team also knew you would have almost lost yourself, if not for natasha. 

she gave you a second chance this time, making clear that you were the only one she would trust to help her get back on her feet, to help her heal. you were reluctant to ever leave the training grounds, to even let yourself handle any other mission other than getting back stronger and better, but she was there. she always was, and she ensured that you wouldn’t regret saving her instead, even if she also thought it had been a difficult choice. 

when you lay in bed each night after her recovery, tracing the scar on her stomach and killing yourself in your own mind, she would run through her fingers through your hair, reminding you to get out of the headspace. when you doubted your abilities even in training the younger agents, she would back you up. even when you made the weekly visits to the engineer’s home back in the states, helping out his wife and apologising for your failure to her family. she knew even supporting his child financially for the rest of his life wasn’t enough for you. 

odessa was probably the biggest failure in your career as a SHIELD agent. and there was no happy end, or satisfying outcome, you would have achieved then. but at least having natasha through the journey of your recovery from that, helped your growth and acceptance in part.

when she would be asleep beside you most nights in the years after, you would often sneak out and, in the quite space between your balcony and the rooftop of the building, tell yourself that you would have done the same thing over if you were placed in the situation again.

natasha liked to think of herself as cold, her personality and actions as impersonal as things got. she was never sure she was doing right by you, or able to comfort you as much as you comfort her. but clearly, she was quite the opposite.

most nights when you came back after your hours alone, pondering over the day of the incident over and over again, you would look at her sleeping figure on your shared bed, and think to yourself how no one was able to know you the way she knew you. no one came close.

she was your sanctuary as much as you were hers.

[grimm-writings]

Hey! Can I request a falin x reader where reader is a lone researcher in the dungeon and stumbles into chimera falin and the two fall in love?

Maybe Like a 5 times the reader has met chimera falin and 1 time the two get to meet after she’s turned back type story?

beauty/beast

…ft! falin x gn! reader

…tags! 5+1 format, reader is like slightly unhinged, fluff with moments of angst, slight suggestiveness

…wc! 2789

…notes! grimm tries not to come off as a monsterkisser for nearly 2.7k words, the fic,,,, hope you enjoy!!!! i love chimera falin so bad… 

One

You can’t say you didn’t ask for this.

It’s a death sentence to traverse into a dungeon on your own, especially with your lack of combat skills.  If you were sane, you’d have hired a bodyguard to help take down monsters you couldn’t handle.  Fortunately, you are not, and decided instead you could very well handle monsters in a pacifistic way.

Any companion you told this to chose to stare at you like you admitted to dark magic.

So, you’ll simply prove the nay-sayers wrong!  After all, how hard can it be to tame some monsters?

Very hard, actually.  Like… incredibly.

You had to pride yourself in how you managed to sweet-talk some petty thieves for advice on monsters in the floor you’re currently on, even how to avoid orcs!  At least that much is out of the way.

As for fighting, well, sometimes a very sharp slap to the head with a book, or even the sharp tip of a pen can subdue anyone, if just to give you enough time to run.

Besides, blood makes for some extra ink if you just happened to come by a dead body!

Going purely on efficiency alone, you’re doing tremendous work!  When it comes to your study?  Not so much.

The purpose of coming all the way down here is that you have a very specific urge.  That being, to tame a beast.  Some researchers gained the will to try and do the same to elemental spirits, why not other monsters?

One of the most common rebuttals you receive is that monsters are animals, they can’t be tamed at all, and you shouldn’t even try lest you want your head bitten off.  Considering thus far you only got bitten by a walking mushroom, you think you’re doing rather well!  (You did take an hour to contemplate to yourself how a walking mushroom seemingly has teeth, though.)

That brings you now later to the fourth floor, trying to shield your notes from the water as you lament losing more ink.  Sure, you might write a little bit more than should be necessary, but you surely can’t be out already!

So, delight fills you as you peer past a doorway to see the top half of a woman face down on the floor.  Haha, you can likely drain her pretty easily for some ink!  Looks fresh enough, and some patches of her are already damp with red!

You skip over, humming as you do so, when all at once the woman jerks and looks up at you.  Her golden eyes pierce your own, making you freeze in place.  You wonder if something had gotten mixed up and a succubus ended up making its way to an upper floor, when the walls of the small tower the woman is inhabiting collapses.

A chimera screeches at you, as if telling you to leave it alone.  If you weren’t so awestruck, you would have tried to shush it, lure it towards you and petted its oddly human head.  Alas, you let the chicken-legged thing go, finding a safe haven for itself.

Day 1: I have found a beast in its purest form. I must pursue it. I must tame it.

Two

‘Obsession’ would be putting your experience lightly.

You had never wanted to gaze upon a monster as much as you wished to see the chimera again.  Unique is its proportions, the lower body of a dragon and the torso and head of an adult tallwoman.

To anyone else, its face must be more of a lure.  With the prettiest face and… great assets to boot, like a fish drawn to an angler fish's light, a blindsided adventurer comes near.

You had tried to navigate where the beast has gone, observing the damages of certain areas to lead you closer to it.

Thoughts course through your mind like speckles of a daydream as you walk and walk and walk, trying to sneak past other enemies and adventurers as you do so.  What would its feathers feel like?  Is it different from the mop of blonde hair on its head?  You didn’t get the chance to observe its eyes – are they human or monster?  What of its body heat?  What is its diet?

Ah.  Diet.

Your own body stops walking in realisation.  By all means, comparing their mouth to the rest of their body, it’s ultimately impossible for the chimera to have a stable diet in this dungeon, correct?

Perhaps… you need to make a lure of your own.

Even after days of navigating the dungeon, you still have plenty of rations from the surface remaining in your bag.  Hopefully the chimera likes the most noble meal one can fit inside a lunchbox — meats and pasta with the richest sauce.  One could say your taste in meals is unique, eliciting a morbid curiosity.  If the beast is more in tune with its human side, it will react the same.

You don’t know what tempted you to arrange a table with two chairs on either side.  It’s not like the chimera could fit, but it was only suitable for your first formal meeting with it!  Oh, how you can’t wait to observe it eating, and so close…!

If you’re lucky, it may even attempt to taste you.

You promptly shake off the thought.

What you focus on now is to draw the chimera near.  It seems to favour secluded areas, but has been seemingly chased around.  Aw, is it scared of humans?  That’s just adorable!  Or, maybe, it’s resting before setting off on a search…  Now that’d be some juicy stuff!  Who’s the chimera’s prey?  Another monster, or humans?

Oh, of course you’ll use yourself as bait.  You’re not a coward!

You know basic enough spells that you won’t be entirely drained of mana upon use, lighting up a route to catch the chimera’s attention upon spotting it.  Down you lead it, making yourself look as bright and delectable as possible, before sitting in your seat, your meal readily prepared for the chimera.

You smile up at her as she pokes at the food you prepared, and she begins to eat.

Day 3: The beast was very hungry upon encounter.  Even when she finished the meal, she insisted on having something more.  I complied, and soon I had emptied my entire share of rations.  The chimera eats food made for humans easily. This elicits curiosity – it might be proof enough that the chimera’s existence in this dungeon is unnatural.  Even now, it looks too… human.  I feel uncomfortable now referring to the beast as such – an ‘it’. Thus, I will refer to the chimera as ‘she’ from here on.  It suits her.  She truly is magnificent.   All signs point to her being an attempt at creating a ‘beast-kin’, but instead of using the soul of a monster and body of a human, it’s as if it’s a mesh of both.  A disgustingly beautiful transformation.  To compare, it is not dissimilar to the breeding of a pug.  Deliberately done to appease someone, something.  A selfish birth. Someone must be wanting to do the same as I to the chimera – tame her to their whims. …I’ll have to look further into this.

Three

You feel less in control of your studies these days.

The more you hang around the dungeon, scavenging for food and following your muse, the more insane you feel.  But, for the sake of research, you power through.

The chimera, she has been opening herself up to you.  When she gets anxious, her feathers ruffle, and you shush her with pets.  She calms down occasionally.  Once, you had encountered her, blood on her body and under her fingernails.  You cleaned her using the mana-infused water.  She had never looked so calm.

She doesn’t feel like a monster you have tamed, but a friend.

This scares you.

Sure, there’s the possibility that the chimera is an unnatural phenomenon, and isn’t even a monster.

But that also means you’re losing your resolve.

The chimera sits with you, as you scrub her red-scaled talons free of dirt and blood.  Her upper body leans on you, resting.  You can even hear little chirps slipping from her lips.

She’s so cute.

Even as her golden eyes soften, the small slits in them dilating to exhibit relaxation, she smiles at you.  You don’t flinch when her hands take your face to look at you.  She’s a bird after all – she might be trying to memorise you, how you look, so she knows not to hurt you in the future.

You were nearly about to reminisce on your further embarrassment when the chimera speaks.

Four words.  She spoke four words in the common language, leaving you staring at her.  You’re speechless.  She must know that she’s caught you off guard as she slowly tucks your hair behind your ear and moves away.

The moment is quickly ruined.  “Dragon!”  A boyish voice calls.  “There you are.  You’ve been leaving my side so frequently.  There’s no time to–”

An elf in a cloak freezes upon noticing you.  His heavy eye bags rival your own as he glares down at your sitting position.

You don’t do anything, merely looking up at your friend in confusion.  She is back to being silent again, reaching her arms out to the elf, as if about to pick him up.  He swats at her, before pointing at you.

“Kill them,” he demands her.

She hesitates.  You also find yourself unable to move.  So the chimera is under someone’s control after all.  This elf, forcing you apart from your friend.

You hardly process your friend lifting you off the floor, her fingers closing in around your throat.  Tighter and tighter.  Your eyes can barely make out her empty expression as she squeezes the life out of your lungs.

Snap.

You fall onto the floor, and the mad mage leaves with his dragon in tow.

Day ??: “My name is Falin.” The chimera told me this last time we encountered one another.  She has a name.  A beautiful name that belongs just to her.  Falin. …I would say ‘my Falin’, but she is not.  She is under the control of that elf.  I wouldn’t want her to be my Falin anyway. She shouldn’t belong to anyone. I was revived by a kindly Eastern woman, who is accompanying a group of retainers following their lord.  They are joined by another party, also recently revived. Apparently, in my revival, I had uttered her name, “Falin,” and captured the attention of the malnourished lord. He is looking for her. …I was informed she is his love. Pushing personal feelings aside, I asked to come along.  I neglected to mention Falin’s current state.  I couldn’t do that to him right now.  Maybe once he sleeps, or eats… but not now. Falin, I wish to save you.  That is my goal now. You are not a monster to be tamed.

Four

Today, you met Laios Touden.

He is Falin’s older brother, you learn.

You met a lot of people, actually.  You met Falin’s party, an elf who Falin went to school with, as well as Laios Touden.

“You’ve seen Falin?”  He asks you, brow creased.  He had leaned forward in interest.  Lord Toshiro, Kabru, and Asebi were also listening to you with intrigue.

You nod.  “Yes, but I fear the situation might be a little more than you have bargained for,” you vaguely inform.

Your words would be interrupted by Laios’ request to talk privately with Toshiro, to which you comply.  You do already have a feeling of what's being said, something Kabru seems to pick up on as he glances over at you.

“Falin… isn’t faring well, is she?”

“Not in the traditional sense,” you reply.  Kabru grimaces, clearly not appreciating your rather… erratic way of conversing.  You add before he could talk back, “she’ll come back for me.”

Kabru furrows his brow.  “Excuse me?”

His question remains unanswered until you are swept up in a heated battle.  Looks of horror cross everyone’s faces at the bloody acts committed by the chimera.

You merely smile.

“Hello beauty,” you whisper when she turns to you.  Falin steps forward, cornering you.  You welcome her with open arms – and the world becomes dark again.

Day ??: Scorned though I may be by Lord Toshiro, I know myself not to be mad, but in love. Yes, I am in love.  I know this now for certain. I know that he, too, is in love.  I do not see his wishes badly.  In fact, from a sane man’s mouth, it is perfectly understandable.  Dark magic is dangerous.  As is love.  He’s risking his own reputation for it, even if others don’t appear to see things the way he does. But when push comes to shove, I am not that sane man.  I am joining Laios Touden’s party in the retrieval of Falin. The aftermath of the battle consisted of a hearty meal.  Who knew monsters could taste so nice?  Keep this in mind for the next adventure. I had figured this all came from the result of black magic.  Marcille Donato is a much more interesting woman than I thought.  I’m sure I could learn a lot from her. Hence, we march forward.  I know you aren’t in your right mind, Falin, but trust that I am. I will risk it all for you, beauty.

Five

The ice is cold underneath your fingertips.  The woman encased inside is relaxed, as if she’s merely asleep.  To see her completely separated from the lower half of the chimera body was something uncanny to you, so used to seeing her towering over you, able to squash you like a bug.

You turn to Marcille as she approaches.  “You had the right mind, keeping her fresh like this.  Deep down, you really did want to follow through with the plan!”

The blonde elf is sheepish.  “I did end up causing a right mess in the end.  It… It was selfish of me.”

“It was love,” you reply.

“Not the love Falin needs, though,” she finishes.

You both stare up at her in silence.  If you were delusional enough, you could swear you could see Falin breathing.

“I love her,” you admit, quieter than you have ever been.  “Is that alright with you?”

Marcille turns to you, her eyes wide.  For such a gossip, she really hasn’t picked up on it?

“I…”  She hesitates.  Her hands reach her trousers, and she scrunches up the fabric in her hands.  “It’s not my choice what – or who – Falin chooses.  I don’t think I have the right to decide anything for her.”

You nod, graciously taking Marcille’s word to heart.

You feel you’ve also changed throughout your journey.  Volatile as you may be, you appreciate Falin as she is.  An untamed beauty.  Not for anyone to claim or put their ideals onto.

She’s simply Falin.

“Come on,” Marcille takes your hand.  She has the kind of look on her face where you know she accepts you readily.  “Let’s go eat, okay?  For Falin.”

You smile back.  “For Falin.”

I don’t care about the day anymore. Falin is being revived today.  Soon, I’ll have a chance to meet the real her.  The beauty behind the beast. Ha.  I haven’t called her that for a while. Maybe I’ll follow Toshiro’s way and propose immediately too?  No, Marcille may accept me, but that might result in another need for revival. I can’t wait to get to know you.

the first time

Falin opens the door with a dazed expression, not expecting the crowd waiting around the door.  Of course, this resulted in quite the hoo-ha.  People running around, celebrating the successful revival of Falin Touden.  You wait patiently for you to be welcomed once more.

The woman is sitting calmly at her bed.  Some of her features are still feathered, but you’ve always liked how they felt underneath your fingertips.

She glances up at you, examining your form.

You’re taller than she thought.

“Hi,” you say, handing over a random blade of grass you picked.

Falin takes it.  Her fingers brush against your own.  She starts twirling the natural green between her fingers.  She smiles warmly.  “Hello,” her soft, tired voice returns.  It’s so sweet that you might melt.  “My name is Falin.  It’s nice to meet you.”

You know from the way she glances up at you that she already remembers you quite well.

Feeling the happiest you’ve ever been, you fall into Falin, pulling her into the tightest of hugs.

“It’s so wonderful to meet you too, beauty.”

Today, she asked me if she could belong to me. I said yes, but only if she belonged to herself first. She accepted.

[1800-fight-me]

Hiiiiiiii. :)

First I love love love your fics.

You’re awesome.

Secondly you have a fic called duty and honor or something like that, where Aemond goes to war and his little wife is pregnant.

In it Aegon makes comments to her that she doesn’t like. I was wondering if you would write a continuation fic where now Aemond is back he over hears his brother and becomes all protective knowing this has been happening all the time he was away as well.

Just love protective pissed off In love Aemond and the way you write him, makes a girl swoon :) 🌹

Of Retribution & Desire

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: M (Mature) (as always - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Violence, reader is a couple weeks postpartum, Aemond being protective

Word count: About 1.3k

Synopsis: Your husband defends your honor and protects you from the hateful words of his brother.

Author’s note: This ask is from the summer of last year lmao my bad,,, I've been going through it lately but hopefully this fic was worth the wait and still makes you swoon! Thanks for the love and support! Hopefully this is also the start of me being more involved in writing and the fandom again! This is part three of my first ever Aemond fic!!

Part one - Of Duty and Honor

Part two - Of War and Longing

I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

Aemond Masterlist

“It certainly appears to be true that childbirth takes away a woman’s beauty,” Aegon practically sneered at you as he looked up and down your body. 

It was merely two weeks after you gave birth to Aemond’s daughter and your emotions were all over the place. 

His words filled you with such anger and self consciousness that your body could not hold in the emotions. 

Most embarrassingly, your eyes filled with tears. You were aghast at your reaction. Though Aegon often frustrated you, you certainly did not care enough about his opinion on your appearance for his words to cut so deep. 

Though if you were honest with yourself, you were already uncomfortable with your appearance today and wished you could have avoided today’s gathering. Though Aemond had assured you that you looked lovely, it was obvious to you, despite your lady’s maid’s best efforts, that you were exhausted. You felt uncomfortable in your own skin, your body went through massive changes and had not had the time and chance to adjust back. 

So there, in front of Aegon and the rest of your in-laws, you began to cry. 

Damn these uncontrollable emotions that came on so strongly after giving birth. 

You wanted to run and hide, and turned to do just that when Aemond walked in the room. 

His brow knitted in concern and his footsteps quickened as soon as he saw you. 

He was at your side and pulled you into his larger frame as he looked down at you. 

“What is wrong?” He asked, his voice tight. His gaze was on you before his eye darted around the room scanning it for danger or anything that could have caused your distraught state. 

You pursed your lips, afraid to speak for fear of more embarrassing tears flowing. 

“Who did this to you?” he asked, his voice dark with the promise of violence.

You really didn’t want to be the cause of another fight between him and his brother. 

“Aegon was being vile,” Heleana spoke up. 

You looked back at her in surprise that she would speak up, stand up for you. 

Aemond looked over your head at his brother and his eye narrowed. 

“What did you say to my wife,” he practically growled. 

Aegon visibly blanched and as quick as that your mood changed. You held back a smile. You were eager to see Aegon finally receive consequences for all the horrible things he’d said to you throughout your pregnancy when Aemond was off winning his war. 

“N-nothing,” he said and you scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

Aemond glanced down at you. He could’ve asked you but it was clear he wanted to make his brother sweat, make him admit to hurting you. 

He glared at Aegon who chose to glare back. 

Alicent let out a long suffering sigh and explained to Aemond what had been said. 

“That’s not the only thing he’s said too, right?” Heleana asked, her voice sweet and innocent. It amused you that she continued to push the issue, trying to get her husband in trouble. 

A horrible thought clanged through you that every vile comment he’d made to you, at least you had Aemond’s protection. Maybe it was worse for her. And maybe getting Aemond to punish Aegon for how he treated you was a safe way for her to get retribution as well. 

So you met her eyes, took a deep breath, set your jaw, and turned back to your husband. You told him every awful thing you could remember that Aegon said to you those eight months that Aemond was gone. 

You ignored Aegon, looking only at your husband as you spoke. 

As you finished, the tension in the room was thick, and it became so quiet, quiet enough that you could hear Aegon take a step back. 

Aemond took a deep calming breath, gently brushed you aside, then lunged towards his brother. 

“Aemond!” Alicent yelled in protest. 

“Aemond,” you murmured, a weak attempt to dissuade him, your heart not truly in it as you protested along with her. 

You took another step back, your body still weak from giving birth, not having any interest in getting involved in a physical fight, and watched as your husband punched his brother in the face to defend your honor. 

He looked like an avenging angel, you thought, as his white hair flew around, his upper lip curled into a snarl, and the look in his eye promised pain. 

You wondered at it, the smooth grace with which he attacked, it caused your heart to pound, and you knew it was not from fear. 

He really only got two good hits in before the King’s Guards intervened and pulled him away. But it was glorious to behold. 

His assault was so quick and vicious, Aegon didn’t even have a chance to fight back. 

Alicent was distraught, but Heleana sidled up beside you and gave you a small smile which you returned. 

The fact of the matter was, you were incredibly turned on. Uncomfortably turned on as you watched Aemond be violent to defend your honor. 

You were ready to drag him to your rooms and make another baby, but then your aching body reminded you that you were in no shape to do any such thing. 

Aemond yanked himself out of the grip of one of the guards and strode to you. 

He tilted your face up with a finger beneath your chin so your gaze would meet his own that was filled with fire. And smirked at the desire in your eyes. 

He pressed a brief but firm kiss to your wanting lips, you heard Aegon yelling something but ignored him completely. 

You slipped your hand into Aemond’s, his knuckles a little bloody, and tugged on him slightly, leading him out and away from the chaos. 

As you exited the room you gripped his tunic, and he backed you against the wall. 

He placed his hands against the wall on either side of your head, caging you in, and with the heat - the fire - between the two of you, there was nothing you could do but rise up on your tiptoes and press your lips to his. 

And these past weeks with your daughter, the nine months before that as you carried her, had been amazing, one of the most joyful experiences of your life. But, you were not only her mother, you were also Aemond’s wife. 

And he reminded you of that, reminded you that you are his wife and he desires you, as he kissed you back, kissed you hard, kissed you in a way that made your toes curl. 

This was not the sweet, short, gentle way he had kissed you since she was born, no. This was your dragon filling you with his fire again. 

His lips moved against yours, opening you up so his tongue could sweep against your own. 

His hand left the wall to grip your waist, and self consciousness at your changed body flared up, but was soon smothered by his desire as he pushed his body closer to yours, pushed you further against the wall, pressed against him completely. 

He groaned into your mouth and you nipped at his bottom lip in response. Finally, your body sang, like you were shaken awake by the heat. 

You whimpered against his lips, and his tongue danced with yours in response. 

Your body throbbed with desire… and then pain that reminded you that although your spirit felt ready to be joined with your husband in carnal desire again, your body certainly was not. 

You pulled back, your breathing hard, and he smiled softly as he beheld you. His hand grazed up from your waist, slowly and gently, until he cupped your cheek. 

“I can’t-“ you tried to explain, but he shook his head, understanding in his gaze.

“I know,” he murmured. 

He kissed you again, this time gentle and slow, filled with care and affection rather than heat and desire. 

He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours. 

“I love you,” you said sweetly. 

He chuckled and said, “I love you too, little wife. Let’s go hold our daughter before that look in your eyes convinces me to fill you with another.” 

You giggled and took his hand and allowed your prince, your defender, your husband to lead you to your daughter. 

[hazy-smiles]

Easy Smiles (Dan Feng x masc!GN!reader (platonic or romantic))

Hello everyone this is my Dan Feng fic that no one asked for.

The reader is implied to be masc or gn, and I don't write for fem. I hope someone enjoys this :)

(Relationship is teetering on the edge of romantic and platonic, who knows. I don't.)

"I don't find this to be enjoyable, you know."

Dan Feng's tone is bitter, but he wraps the bandage gently all the same. As the white cloth winds around your hand, carefully between your fingers, his hand gently supports your wrist as he stands in front of you, seated on the medical cot.

In the seemingly endless war against the abundance, you sit in a small medical tent in a brief moment of peace. It seems like things have calmed down, but you know better. Things will likely escalate once more, like a windy day being the warning of a storm to come.

Of course, you hadn't hoped to put him in this situation. As talented of a healer as he is, Dan Feng derives no pleasure from carefully bandaging up the few friends and loved ones he treasures. You can tell from the slight squint of his eyes, the tenseness in his shoulders as cloudhymn blooms from his fingertips. It's always been quite beautiful. He's always been quite-

"Did you hear me?"

Dan Feng's soft yet icy gaze meets yours once again, and you snap your attention up from the swirls of azure and turquoise that make your skin tingle before soothingly cooling it.

"I did," you grin sheepishly.

"And?"

"I will be more careful."

Dan Feng opens his mouth as if to argue, 'no, you won't be, you reckless fool', before he snaps it shut and squeezes your hand firmly before releasing it.

He sighs and tilts his head up to face the ceiling.

"Praying to your ancestors for patience, or something?" It's a horrible joke. You know it's not the greatest thing to come out of your mouth. But your friend is stressed and it's admittedly your fault, so you can give yourself the grace to forgive yourself for it.

Dan Feng drops his head back down to his normal, perfectly straight posture, and affixes you with a look that looks equal parts incredulous and 'are you being serious?'

You suck on your bottom lip as you sheepishly smile. He sighs. You're both fairly reserved individuals, but it seems that, as a pair, you both tend to annoy and pick at each other more than either of you would usually deem acceptable.

“I doubt the wisdom of my ancestors is equipped to save me in this situation.”

“That so?”

“Quite.”

He looks firm as he says it, and internally you wince slightly. His expression seems to soften almost immediately after that.

“Why can't you be more careful?

“I am.”

“Trying to control the flow of an opposing army on your lonesome is reckless. Be less reckless.”

The air seems to still.

“Please.”

After a moment, you sigh. In your friendship with him, it seems you're both equally matched in your concern for one another.

High Elder or not, Dan Feng loves his friends. You can see it both in your own friendship with him and his friendships within the High Cloud Quintet. His concern is veiled just enough so that once you've learned to see it, you’ll never doubt that it's there. Ever the healer.

You wonder if he's scared of it all being stripped away, sometimes. He probably knows better than anyone that the preceptors are more than willing to criticize the High Elder, secretively but never quite quietly enough, for his ‘mortal frailties’.

“I will try.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I will be careful.”

It seems to appease him for the moment, and he sighs. Some of the tension fades from his posture as he closes his eyes and hangs his head.

“Very well. Thank you.”

“Ever honoured to be of service to the esteemed High Elder.” Dan Feng groans, still with his eyes closed, and you snicker quietly.

“My knight in shining armour.”

“Stop it.”

“Alas-” you clutch at your heart through your undershirt, and fall backwards onto the cot. Dan Feng moves forward quickly, and leans forward to check that you haven't actually succumbed to an injury he might have overlooked. He wouldn't, he's far too skilled for that, but he checks anyway. You almost feel bad for pulling that.

“My beloved friend has forsaken me.” You make eye contact with him as you smirk widely, and he sighs in both relief and probably what is mild irritation and an urge to just walk straight out of the tent.

“Here we go again.”

“Abandoned, forsaken, am I.”

“I would not forsake you-”

“Forsaken.”

Dan Feng hangs his head and rubs his face.

“Why are you so reckless, anyways? On the battlefield.”

You pause to think about it. Or more accurately, to think of a way to tease him a little further.

“To catch my beloved friend’s eye, of course.”

His hands seem to clench slightly from their position over his face. He hangs his head further and his hair tumbles forward to cover the tips of his ears.

“What? What does that even mean?”

“From his lofty position above the battlefield, my friend surely has trouble discerning me from the crowd of other, similarly sweaty and shapeless ants, on the battlefield.”

“You are not ants. Not to me.”

“For only he, the majestic warrior from on high-” you see Dan Feng stifle a chortle at that, “remains clean, with his hair billowing in the wind.”

He groans and drops his hands. He’s smiling and flushed slightly, but looks like he's exerting an effort into maintaining his composure.

You lift your arm dramatically into the air. Dan Feng sighs.

“If he catches sight of another, more sightly man, from his vantage point, what am I to do? Admit defeat to being overseen, overshadowed? Left behind?"

“You don't have to worry about that.”

“Why not?” You pause your monologuing to meet his gaze, now warm and full of mirth. It makes you smile.

“It's much easier to discern my friends, in the crowd. I try not to loose sight of you.”

You pause a little at that. Then you turn your face away and press the back of your hand to your forehead. You hear Dan Feng groan again and mutter quietly, and have to stifle your laughter.

“And alas, my friend-”

“Stop it,” he begins to laugh quietly, stifled under what you're sure is a hand clapped to his mouth.

“He has forsaken us! Forsaken us for greater, brighter things.”

“Where are you even,” he lets out a bright laugh before coughing, “where are you going with this?”

“My dear friend does not wish to hear of me.”

“You know very well the opposite is true.”

“And is annoyed that I wish to catch his eye in battle,” you turn your head slightly to catch a glimpse of his expression. He flushes slightly and looks away.

“There are other ways to catch my attention, other than recklessly charging ahead into battle, you know.” Dan Feng smiles as he looks back at you. His eyes sparkle as he tries to sound stern, only for it to dissolve as he chuckles into the palm of his hand.

“But this, my friend, is most certainly efficient. Otherwise, what if my friend sees the new love of his life and abandons me for him? The pain, the horror, the-”

Dan Feng laughter fills the air as your sentence trails off. It's bright, and he squeezes his eyes shut as he laughs openly, one hand placed elegantly over his mouth, and the other grasping the sheets on the bed.

You laugh with him, calming down seconds before he finally does, with a sigh.

He looks marvelous like this, you think. Bright-eyed and deliriously laughing with you in a shabby medical tent.

He makes eye contact with you and flushes slightly, for a brief second. You smile at him, and he returns it with a soft expression of his own. Dan Feng, your dearest friend.

“Please though, if you ever do that again I'm dropping down from the sky to chastise you.”

You cackle as he begins to laugh once again.

[targaryenluvs]

TOO SWEET / SOULLESS!SAM WINCHESTER

PAIRINGS: Soulless Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: You were simply just trying to get through your day, he found himself enticed by your kindness and unwilling to let go.

WARNINGS: Innocence kink, teasing, flattery, size diff kink, dacryphillia, hair pulling, non-con/dub-con, rough, angry Sam, p in v, fingering, cream pie, babying, virgin reader, blood, scratches

WORDCOUNT: 3K Words

A/N: I can’t just write a sweet Sam fic and not balance out the scales! This is a bit self indulgent so short!reader. Also I’m not an avid drinker so bare with me at the bar 😭 @lady-ashfade here it is!!

Gif not mine, credits to the owner!

A03 Link

You hadn’t meant to bump into him, no one bumps into people on purpose. But you were scared of running out of time before the shop closed and weren’t really caring about your surroundings.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” You immediately apologised whilst grabbing everything that had dropped to the floor. His hands grazed yours and you froze up, making eye contact with the man. “No, it was my fault.” His voice mocked the concern in yours, even if it didn’t reach his eyes.

You laughed, “Are you kidding? I totally bumped into you, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” You stood up with all your belongings in hand and with a smile. “I should be on my way. Again, I’m so sorry.” Sam shook his head, “You don’t need to keep apologising.”

Your lips pressed into a tight smile as you nodded, “Okay.” The awkwardness of your interaction was practically unbearable. “I’ll be on my way, have a nice day.” Sam watched as you walked away, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Not out of happiness but intrigue.

He wanted more, and he wasn’t going to stop until he did.

You were sweet, unnaturally so, he wanted a taste.

So with out your knowledge of course, he followed you. For the rest of the day he was right behind you, and you were blissfully unaware. You finished up with your groceries about an hour later and finally crossing off everything to do that day.

As you stood near the exit with your cart you couldn’t help but sigh. Seven bags, loaded, and paper with only two arms. Your car was in the shop so you’d put off a lot of things, which resulted in them piling up.

So you decided for a delivery instead, but you had to wait until the truck came back to allow them to pick your groceries up and eventually drop them off. You wondered if they’d give you a ride in all honesty.

You waited outside the doors whilst reading a magazine you bought, which was surprisingly interesting.

You really should be more aware of your surroundings.

“Do you need some help?” You glanced upwards at the sound of a familiar voice, the man from before. He was so tall and pretty, “Oh! No, I’m just waiting.” You smiled widely as you placed the magazine inside a bag. “I didn’t catch your name back there, I’m Y/n.” Sam smiled, “Nice to meet you Y/n, I’m Sam.” His eyes trailed down, you were wearing a low cut dress, it sure as hell suited you.

“Completing some shopping are we?” He chuckled at the notion, Sam, grocery shopping like a normal person. “I was about to, until I saw your gorgeous self.” His words made you giggle, you could feel your face grow hotter. “Oh god, you are— that’s so sweet.” Your hands intertwined with eachother as you looked down to your feet, a strand falling in front of your eyes.

Sam’s hand darted out to tuck it behind your ear, “Oh, thank you.” Your voice was sweet, he wondered if you were this shy in bed. “No problem. I was wondering—,”

“Ma’am?” A worker came outside with a smile, “Trucks here, would you like me to unpack it all for you?” You nodded quickly, “Oh yes, please.” You were always so polite. “Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t be doing it all herself am I right?” Sam’s jaw tightened as he watched your face flush, “I’ll help her unload.”

You both turned to Sam, “No you don’t need to seriously.” The look in Sam’s eyes was unsettling, and you thought the worker noticed it too. “I’ll help.” It wasn’t an ask, he was telling you. And you were the furthest thing from confrontational, so you let him take the cart. The worker passed a clipboard to you to fill out your address, Sam passed it onto the driver.

Sam couldn’t figure out for the life of him why he wanted you so badly, he couldn’t care less usually about some random girl. But there was something about you that drew him to you, you were so, innocent. In need. And he wanted to sink his teeth into you, badly.

Once he was done you offered him a tight lipped smile, unsure of his mood, “Thank you Sam, you didn’t have to at all.” He knew he didn’t have to, “It’s nothing really, you needed the help.” Sam couldn’t help but grin when he noticed you quite literally straining your neck to look up at him. You were so, pocket sized.

As if I can’t load groceries into a trunk? His words made you seem weak, but you brushed it off. “I don’t how to repay—,”

Bad choice of words sweetheart.

“Let me take you out.”

Somehow you’d managed to let him smooth talk you into a hang out. So here you were, sitting with him at the bar. Sam was anything but boring. He had about a million comments locked and loaded for every second. You found yourself enthralled by him, it’d been far too long since you enjoyed yourself on a night out.

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not, at all. Believe what you want Sweetheart.” The nickname made you want to kick your feet and smile. Sam was so, amazing. He was tall, handsome, funny and kind. You could’ve maybe added chivalrous to the list. Sam waved over the bartender, he’d finished his third beer whilst you nursed a Cosmo.

Sam raised an eyebrow at your drink, you’d had it for about twenty minutes and before it a coke. “Pacing yourself are we?” The glass turned in your hands as you sighed, “I don’t drink that often honestly.”

“No?” Sam feigned interest, “Yeah, I’m more of the designated driver. I find it better to have fun sober in all honesty rather than waking up with a pounding headache and unaware of my surroundings.” Getting blackout drunk wasn’t on everyone’s to do lists which was respectable he guessed. “Good girl.”

The words made your eyes widen as you took another sip, Sam noticed. He found your shyness cute. Usually by know a girl was pawing at him, hinting towards a get away to her place or at least flirting. But you were just, talking. Like you wanted to get to know him rather than fuck him.

He found it adorable at the start, you barely knew what you were doing. But with your tits on display, and him being more than tall enough to look down your dress, he wanted nothing more than to get out of the place.

It’d been thirty minutes since his third beer. He was on his seventh and you were on another coke. Sam was so close to blowing up. The way you looked up at him, when your lips chased after the liquid in your cup, and your cute little body in that short dress.

You glanced at the clock on the wall and gasped, you had work you needed to submit by 11 and it was already 10. “I completely lost track of time, oh my god!” Sam watched as you smiled at the bartender, swiftly tossing down a thirty as you swung your bag over your shoulder.

Sam placed his beer down, undeniably irritated by your sudden departure, “Thank you so much for such a nice night Sam, it was really nice getting to know you. I hope we can maybe see eachother again?” You barely waited for an answer before placing a peck on his cheek.

“I’ll see you around?”

It was the last thing you said before you bolted out the door. Sam was surprisingly stunned, within a minute you’d upped and left him alone. Not once did you overtly flirt or bat your eye lashes, it was honestly refreshing. A challenge is what he saw you as and a kind man is what saw you in him. How wrong you were, and how badly he wanted you.

Sam downed the rest of his drink before deciding, he was coming after you.

The night air nipped at your bare skin, you’d idiotically forgone a jacket or shawl. All you wanted was to get home and debrief with your friend who was proud of you for finally going out with someone. You really did enjoy yourself with Sam, but at the same time in your opinion there was something off about him.

He’d make a good friend.

As you entered your apartment you immediately sighed, if there was something you loved more than shopping or going out, it was your home. You quickly removed your heels and placed your bag on the counter before moving to your room. Makeup wipes disposed of, clothes picked out and the weekend was tomorrow.

You decided to wear a simple gown since it was a bit too warm in your place. As you were about to turn down the heat—

The lights went out.

Your hands trailed along the walls until you reached your living room curtains, thankfully you lived in the city. As you looked out you realised it was probably only your building. A creaking from behind caused you to turn sharply, “Hello?” No response. You slowly made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a flashlight from your drawer.

The living room seemed empty, shadows drawn out by the light. Another creak came, but closer this time, “If there’s someone here, I’m so close to calling the cops.”

You screamed as you heard a chuckle from behind you, “How are you going to call without a phone?” You knew that voice, “Sam?” He stepped out from behind you with a wide grin, his eyes were trained on you, like a predator. The way he stared sent shivers down your spine, “What the hell are you doing here? How did you even—,”

“I saw your address on the delivery sheet. You really shouldn’t just pass around personal details sweetheart.” You swallowed before backing up, he continued walking forwards, “I— I didn’t show it you on purpose.” Sam shook his head disapprovingly as he tutted, “It’s no excuse, it was reckless of you. Imagine what would’ve happened if the wrong person saw?”

The tears were welling quickly, this was not the Sam you’d met, the one that you laughed and drunk with. This Sam was intimidating, “You are the wrong person.”

Your back was up against the wall, “Ouch, I wasn’t the wrong person when you needed help right? I wasn’t the wrong person when you wanted to go out. You’re a bitch, you know that? Wearing that little dress, that black lace and leaving me by myself. What was so important that you had to go? Or do you just get kicks out of leaving guys high and dry?”

You shook your head vehemently, tears dropping down your cheeks. Sam’s thumb caressed your cheek whilst the other traced upwards, “No.” You cried out, “No?” Sam mocked as he raised his eyebrows, “No to what sweetie? No to being a slut or something else?” His fingers ghosted over your panties as you jerked your hips upwards, “Sensitive aren’t you, not so sure if you’re a slut anymore Y/n/n.”

You refrained from puking at the nickname, “Something else.” Sam smirked as he took you in, teary, puffy eyes with a tear stained face. You struggled with getting your words out, his presence was overwhelming. You knew you couldn’t actually put up a fight, this man was a giant. And he’d absolutely crush you, no chance.

“No to this?” His fingers slipped your panties to the side and laughed when you began to sob into his shoulder. His finger presses against your clit as a gasp falls from your lips, “Can’t tell me you don’t want it when you’re acting like this Y/n/n.” You cringed at the lewd squelch that came from you.

Sam groaned as your fingertips dug into his biceps, “Sammy please.” He wanted to hit you the second you called him Sammy, but the wide eyes that stared up at him were too cute. “Tell me, tell Sammy what you need.” It was tedious at this point, his fingers had withdrawn from your clit, his touch was light and never where you needed it to be.

“Please just— just do something!” You wanted to cry even more, the apartment was warm and so were you. Your head was foggy, and all you could focus on was Sam’s large hands and thick fingers. “Please, I need you.” He pressed a finger to your clit and you moaned out, “Sammy!”

“You’re so wet Y/n/n, all for me yeah?” You were too far gone as he entered a finger, in and out. “When I say something,” Not even giving a minute to adjust, Sam added another finger as your fingernails scratched down his arms, “You respond.” His other hand came around your neck, his own fingernails imprint upon the smooth skin.

You whined at the loss of contact as Sam pulled out, feeling discomfort as you could feel your own slick coating your thighs, “Jump.” Sam had his hands on your ass as you jumped up, “Good girl.”

He laid you down on the bed before taking his own clothes off. You expected him to continue with fingering you but Sam had different plans. Because if there was one thing he put on top?

His own pleasure.

When you felt him rubbing his cock on your cunt, you immediately began to crawl away, “What do you think you’re doing Y/n/n?” Sam’s hands circled around your wrists as you squealed, his grip was tight and bruising.

“I’ve never…”

Oh this was too good. As if he wasn’t already having a good night. When you finally stopped fighting him, realising the stupidity of it, you looked at him.

His face was twisted in concern and you felt your heart swell, he was going to let you go. But then, you watched in horror as he began to laugh.

“Baby, you think I care? More fun for me.”

Your bedroom was filled with lewd sounds of skin and groans from Sam, your hands were pinned down above your head courtesy of Sam. He thrusted meanly and with so much force that you had scratched his back bloody.

“Shit Y/n/n, I knew you’d have a tight cunt but, fuck.”You hated him, how gorgeous he looked above you, how the sweat made his abs glisten and how your body reacted to his words.

Sam’s one hand was more than enough to hold both of yours, he traced your tits before pinching your nipple causing you to scream out. “Does it hurt? Poor baby.” He continued plunging into you, his dick twitched inside as he noticed the crimson on his dick.

Sam slowed his movements down as he noticed your eyes fluttering, “You keep your eyes on me Y/n. Close your eyes on me again and see what happens.” You quite literally couldn’t help it, Sam had already came inside you twice and your body had given up on fighting long ago.

“Please, just stop it Sam.” He scoffed at the plea, “What, I’m not Sammy anymore?” Sam teased as his hand came down to your clit, pressing down.

“This is all your fault y’know? Leaving me at the bar like I’m pathetic? Only pathetic thing here is you. Can’t even fight back now?” You barely managed to shake your head as Sam’s strong hands squeezed your hips before lifting and a slap landed on your ass.

“Cute little thing aren’t you?”

Sam pulled out before flipping you onto your stomach, pulling you back by your hips he ground against your ass. He prodded at your ass using your slick to stretch you out, “Cute ass too, maybe next time?” You shook your head at the notion, “Baby, Y/n/n you gotta use your words.”

He slid back into your tight cunt and groaned, “Fuck you’re so good. All— all for me.” You found yourself clutching onto the bed as he drove in and out mercilessly. You felt your legs begin to quiver as your cunt throbbed and clenched and you closed your eyes, trying your hardest to hold back. His hand tangled itself in your hair.

Sam’s hand on your ass kneaded and slapped, leaving it throbbing. “Fuck I can feel you, cum. Cum for me.” As much as you didn’t want to give him the pleasure of knowing you felt as if you were going to explode. Sam was there too, you could feel his hips falter and his grip on your hair tighten.

“You’re mine, fuck, You’re mine. You understand?” His voice whispered against your ears and then you felt it. Sam’s cock throbbed inside of you, you could feel it with how deep he was inside of you, and thick, hot, ropes of cum filling you up as he came.

Sam’s hand pressed down onto your stomach, “Feel that Y/n/n?” Sam’s voice was prominent by your ear, “Yes Sammy!” You exclaimed, it felt as if you were filled to the brim as he bottomed out in you.

He grinned before pulling out, you immediately collapsed onto the bed. You closed your eyes hoping it was over now. You jolted as you felt Sam’s fingers stuff his loads of cum back into you, “Keep that in there, or I’ll take you again.” Sam smiled as you nodded.

He surprisingly didn’t leave, instead he laid next to you. Sam had given you a break, two minutes was enough right?

Your peace was taken again as you felt a hand crawl around on your hip, “On second thought,”

“I might just take your ass now.”

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

I think it's really funny that most of my issues w dp×dc fics would be immediately resolved if they were about Dan instead of Danny

(No hate to any fics that do these things btw I am just so so picky)

Jack and Maddie being awful irredeemable people? Not a risk if the fic is about Dan since he doesn't associate with them. If he did catch their ire (pre-agit) he probably genuinely did kill and replace Danny like some write the Fenton's believing

Ooc Danny who's too violent and fine with murder? That'd work wonderfully with Dan

I don't mind it but I don't care for ghost king Danny. However ghost king Dan honestly isn't that much of a leap considering he does canonically have Fright Knight working for him

-OP because he's ghost king Danny, Dan already canonically can make his own ghost portals, and could make himself appear on Valerie's watch and presumably other tech, and can duplicate, and electrocute, so on and so forth

Going to a Wayne Gala or whatever with Vlad? Works well with Danny but works incredibly well with Dan

Anyway basically what im saying here is I want to read Dan fics all the time

Bonuses, that I think are cool rather than being related to my grievances

Dan can look like his 14yr human and ghost self. And I still choose to believe he can look like his true self (as well as being able to appear as 24yr human Danny 🤔)

Honestly I don't think Dan would bother with a human identity unless forced. Maybe he needs to stay in it for an amount of time in order to stay grounded and not cease to exist bc his timeline is gone

If in the same dimension, Dan could easily know all the heroes identities, at least, know their real faces. He probably unmasked them after killing them just to see

I tend to imagine the JL w this one but Dan AND Danny being in DC is great too. I wonder how they'd explain the Dan situation. Dan could just say he's from an erased timeline. Or see how long he can convince others he's Danny's older brother or father or uncle or something

I think a plot could either be Dan just being a dramatic smug bastard OR Dan slowly learning how to heal and accept his emotions and let others in his life and become better for the people around him even if unintentionally. Or both. Especially both.Imagine.

[pepperonidk]

i. ride the sun away || all i could do

“All I could do was love you hard and let you go.” “Go and ride the sun away."

Pairing: Lee Jihoon x f!Reader Summary:  5 years ended with a note on the coffee table. Warnings: angst Word Count: 1227

A/N: Hello! It's been a long while, but this idea has been on my mind for a long time. This musical means a lot to me and so does this fic. I know Jihoon is an asshole in this... sorry lol

join the taglist! back to library || next chapter

The glint of light on the coffee table immediately drew your attention as you walked into the living room.

I called Chan and Seungcheol to help me get the rest of my stuff. I know you wanted to go see another counselor… but I don’t know what the point would be. I know I’m not the only one who’s hurting here, and I don’t see what the hell else we can do.

I don’t think you could see how deep the cracks run, or that I had run out of rope.We could keep fighting each other, keep hurting each other, but I think it’s time to just face it… I couldn’t be what you wanted.All I could do was love you – and god did I love you – love you hard and let you go.

-Jihoon

The weighty cream piece of paper lay on the coffee table and on top of it, Jihoon’s silver wedding band, identical to the one on your own finger. The lights are off, but the room is far from dark. The sun outside is at its zenith and its rays spill into the room and wash the air with enough light to see dust floating in the air. Aside from the note and silver band, glimmering in the light, nothing in the living room had been touched in weeks.

The walls are still covered in pictures of the two of you smiling and you wonder if all the “I love yous” ever meant anything or if the foundation was cracked from the beginning. You’re left with more questions than you’ll ever have answers to and all you can think of is how unfair it is that Jihoon felt that he had the right to decide that things were over.

He was the one keeping secrets. He was the one who moved on before things had even ended. He was convinced that you were the problem. He was the one running away. And you were covered in scars you didn’t earn.

I should be crying, you think to yourself. But you don’t. You haven’t cried in a while, really, because honestly, to say you didn’t see this coming would be a lie.

From the minute you met him five years ago, sitting at a table on the fourth floor of the library and madly scribbling into a worn leather notebook, you knew he was on a one way road to something bigger. You suppose it was only a matter of time that he would outgrow you too.

While nearly every other seat was occupied by students with strewn out textbooks, notebooks, and half-dead laptops cramming for midterms, he was writing a song. School was on the backburner for him (as were most other things), a backup plan in case his dreams were just a little bit too far. Interestingly enough, that was what drew you to him.

“Whatcha writing?” you had asked him, the nervous crack in your voice betraying your casual attempt at conversation. You had noticed him as soon as you sat down to study an hour ago, as he was one of the only people around without a laptop in front of him, but waited until your break to finally let your curiosity get to you. 

It took a few seconds before he realized you were speaking to him and he finally lifted his head to look at you. You couldn’t help but smile as you realized the redness on his cheek from resting it on his fist and the messy state of his dark hair.

“Me?” he questioned as you nodded.

“There’s no one else at the table,” you teased.

“Oh,” he looked around as if he hadn’t given any attention to his surroundings in a while. “I’m working on a song,” he admitted softly.

“Cool,” you replied. “Is it for a class? My friend is in a songwriting class with profe–”

“No,” he interrupted, scribbling something else down before returning his attention to you. “It’s just for fun.”

“Fun, huh?” you began. “You have time for fun in the middle of midterms?”

He let out a chuckle as he shook his head. “I like to think I have my priorities sorted,” he answered. “I’m Jihoon.” He extended his hand out for you to shake.

You looked down at his hand, noting the calluses on his fingertips before taking it in yours and introducing yourself.

“So what about you?” he returned. “What class are you studying for?”

You turned your laptop around to show him the powerpoint you had pulled up from your music and neuroscience class. “I’m actually in a class about how music affects the brain,” you explained.

Jihoon’s face lit up in interest. “Really?” he asked. “How does it affect the brain then?” It had been a while since you were able to gush about your interest in neuroscience.

“Well,” you began, pointing your finger over the brain scans on the slide. “There’s some recent studies showing that music could help treat people with Alzheimer’s and some other neurological issues in elderly people.”

You looked over to Jihoon’s brows furrowed in interest as he nodded along. “That’s pretty cool,” he mused.

“Yeah,” you continued. “I saw a couple of videos that show patients with forms of dementia suddenly remembering complex ballet dances and specific memories just from certain musical cues with synaptic activity in many voxels that–” you cut yourself off, realizing you were going to start rambling.

“That what?” Jihoon looked back up at you, clearly still interested in what you had to say.

“That uh,” you blinked at him. “This isn’t boring you?”

“Huh?” he questioned. “This is really cool,” he laughed. “As a musician, it’s nice to know music is more than just something pretty to listen to. I could be making synapses move and what not. I’ll be making an impact.”

You laughed and nodded your head. “Well, synapses don’t move,” you corrected as Jihoon rolled his eyes before giving you a smile. “But thanks.”

“For what?”

“For listening.”

It’s easy, even now, five years later, to remember the way he looked bathed in spring sunlight and the feeling of his callused hands in yours even if you couldn’t remember the last time he actually touched you. He used to trace circles against your skin, humming melodies into your ear, a soft reminder every time of the day you met.

You look down now at your hand and pull off the band, setting it down next to Jihoon’s rather than picking them both up. They’re small, but something tells you they’d be heavy like lead in your palms. So instead, you opt to leave them there, to join the rest of the abandoned and untouched reminders of a life once shared.

On another day you’d take down the pictures of Jihoon kissing your cheek at the fair, the plaque you jokingly made for him out of macaroni after his first single first charted, and the blanket he bought you from Germany on his first tour. Maybe one day you’ll find a lesson to learn in all of this. But all of that would wait till another day when you can begin to move forward the way Jihoon has. But today, you choose to return to your room, to hold onto some semblance of familiarity, still hurting.

taglist: @sana-is-ms-rmty @yksthings @iamxelia @coveyland @xuimhao

[yanderepuck]

Me?? Writing Mozart???? Anyone writing Mozart is a surprise surprise tbh. I bully him too much and therefore it's so hard for me to write him. Is this good? Not exactly. But the Mozart simps can't say I never did anything for them

BUT YOU'RE ALSO GETTING TWO SMUT FICS IN ONE DAY??? let's just say I'm feeling some type of way. You bitches getting fed today.

Mozart has been living outside the mansion for a few months now. He has an apartment in the city so that he wouldn't have to take a carriage back and forth.

For a while you were going back and forth between the mansion and his apartment. There are plenty of days where he is working nonstop and you try to take care of him and try to get him to take a break but it's no use.

"Süße," you call out for him from the couch but he doesn't move. "Süße," you look over at him. He's at his desk, writing music or replying to letters you assume. You pout. "Süße."

You know he can hear you. Why isn't he answering. "Wolfgang!" it took you so long to get used to calling him that. It still feels weird. You sit up on the couch, about to get to if he didn't hear you this time.

"Hm? What is it?" He still doesn't look up, but at least he answers you.

"Didn't you hear me?"

"I did. You just didn't say it right," he chuckles at you while you huff.

You get up and go over to him, putting your arms over his shoulders. "That's what you call me. How am I saying it wrong?"

"It's süßer for me," he drops his own and holds one of your hands.

"Oh wow, so different," you pout, but you still kiss the top of his head. You try to pull him from his chair. "Come spend time with me," you whine. "You have been glued to your desk for days."

You keep trying to pull him up but he's not budging. He laughs softly seeing how determined you are. "Okay okay. Just let me finish writing this letter," he kisses the hand he's holding and you let him go.

"Okay, but that's it for today!"

You let him finish writing it while you go into the kitchen to figure out what to make for dinner. It was getting to be around the time you should start cooking.

You get a few things out and set them on the counter. "I wonder if he'll want to eat tonight," you talk to yourself and turn around and see Mozart walking in.

You smile and go up to him to hug him tightly.

"You've been so mean to me," you look up at him pouting.

"What? I haven't done anything."

"Exactly," you glare at him. "I need attention."

He then hugs you back, holding you close. "Attention? Like this?" He kisses you, making you him softly.

"Mmm, more please," he kisses you again and you kiss back. "You taste like coffee," you giggle.

"I have been drinking quite a bit."

"No more for the rest of the night. You need proper sleep," you kiss him again before letting him go to go back to the counter. "Do you want to eat with me tonight?"

"Depends. What are you making?" He walks over to see what you pulled out

"Nothing too spicy, I promise," you chuckle, remembering last time he tried something new from you. You added way too many spices for him to handle.

He seems to think for a moment. "I'll try it."

"Perfect! I'll start cooking soon then."

You smile and take his hand, taking him back to the living room. All you want is to curl up next to him for a while, have him play with your hair while you relax. Which does happen.

You sit in his lap, leaning against him while he is brushing his fingers through your hair, getting out some loose knots. You lift your head up to kiss him.

It was only meant to be a little kiss, but once he kissed you back you didn't want to stop. He didn't try to pull away either. You both kept going.

Shifting on his lap, you face him, your legs on either side. His hands rest on your hips. You moan softly, arms going over his shoulders.

You can't help but start to rock your hips, getting a moan out of him. Your grip onto his shirt, getting more worked up.

He stills your hips, holding you down.

"What do you think you're doing," it's a lighthearted tease. He wants to hear you say it.

"C-can we go to the bedroom. Please," you start to whine.

His hands slide down your body and before you know it he's standing and holding you. You always forget about that vampiric strength, even still, you wrap your legs around his waist and hold on around his neck.

As he carries you, you start kissing his neck, lightly nibbling at his skin.

He drops you on the bed, giving you the view of him taking his shirt off. You sit there and watch rather than getting your own clothes off.

Mozart tosses his shirt to the side and looks down at you. "I can't do much if you keep your clothes on."

You immediately blush and fumble with your clothes, wanting them off as quickly as you can. You're clothes are barely to the floor and Mozart gets on top of you, kissing you roughly.

Keeping your lips together, you move further back onto the bed so you aren't along the edge, Mozart following you, not breaking the kiss until you lay back.

Lifting up one of your legs he kisses your ankle as he brings it over his shoulder.

"You're so beautiful," he smiles, getting you to blush before he slides into you.

You moan, quickly trying to bite your lip to stay quiet.

With one hand on your leg and another on your hip he starts to thrust into you.

He keeps a steady rhythm, but then again why wouldn't he. Getting more comfortable, he gets rougher. Nearly pulling out all the way before thrusting back in, making sure he's going as deep as he can.

He pulls your leg up further, redirecting your hips, hitting you in a new spot. Your moans get louder and he quickly reaches up to cover your mouth.

"Be quiet," he kisses. "The window is open."

You completely forgot about that. The window right above the headboard of the bed was open, letting in a light breeze. You were wondering why you occasionally got a chill.

You whine under his hand, not able to stop moaning. "Th-then close it."

You grit your teeth as his hips only snap harder. You swear the sound of his hips rutting against you is louder than your moans.

He takes his hand off your mouth and kisses you instead, causing both of you to lose your breath quickly. Panting in each other's mouths.

You wrap your arms around him, leaving red streaks along his back. Your leg that was over this shoulder is now around his waist, keeping him close.

His fingers interlock with yours, holding them down into the mattress.

"You feel close, süße," his lips trail down to your neck. "Why don't I help with that."

"Wolfg-ahh!"

His fangs piece your skin, giving him the pleasure of your blood and giving you the pleasure of reaching your climax. He didn't seem to care about the window being open at that moment.

Your moans went on for as long as his fangs were in you. His hands squeeze yours, his movement suddenly gets faster, until he pushes himself as deep as he can go, filling you with cum.

You squeeze his hands back, buck your hips up, moaning with him.

Mozart licks the bite clean and sits up, licking a few drops of blood off his lips while looking at you.

Your chest heaves, and you whine when he pulls out of you.

You don't feel like making dinner now, but you don't want to be done with him yet.

When Mozart lays down next to you, you sit up, getting on his lap.

He looks up at you surprised. "What are you-"

"I don't want to be done just yet," you smirk, sitting yourself down on his cock

~~

Tag list~

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