#are you giving me an A for effort or are you expressing pity? or do you actually like the fucking thing??

[kominigiru]

im gonna start dumping my one-shots here from now on just bc. also posted on ao3!

satoru's guide to wedding day blunders

contains: female reader, fluff, crack, gojo being a menace, reader and toge are siblings, shoko and nanami being so done with satoru's shenanigans part 1 - part 2 (both in ao3)

Gojo Satoru is late to his own wedding.

You stand at the altar, fingers clenched around your bouquet, doing everything you can to keep from grinding your teeth. Shoko, standing to your right as your maid of honor, is shooting you sympathetic looks, while Nanami on the left looks like he's one deep sigh away from physically dragging Satoru here himself.

Your family sits in the front row, their faces showing various degrees of irritation, disappointment, and—worst of all—pity. They're whispering among themselves, making no effort to hide the glances they cast toward you, or the fact that they're annoyed on your behalf.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to block out the noise. When you open them again, your mother is already halfway up the aisle, moving toward you with a determined look in her eyes.

"Sweetheart," she says, barely acknowledging Shoko and Nanami. "It's been over an hour. I think it's time to accept that maybe this wedding… isn't happening."

You stiffen, fingers going numb around your bouquet. Cancel?

Nanami sighs heavily, crossing his arms. "She has a point. Gojo's behavior today is completely unacceptable. It reflects poorly on him, and worse, on you. We can reschedule."

Shoko snorts in agreement. "Yeah, even I'm tired of waiting, and I'm not the one at the altar. Typical Satoru."

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. You don't speak often—as your Cursed Speech makes casual conversation risky—but the urge to say something now presses hard against your chest. Before you can figure out how to respond, you feel a tug on your gown.

You glance down to see your younger brother, Toge, standing at your side, his tiny arms wrapping around your waist in a comforting hug.

"Aniki's late," Toge mutters, his voice barely audible.

The way he says it tugs at your heartstrings. Even your usually patient brother is starting to lose hope.

Suddenly, with perfect, almost theatrical timing, the heavy church doors burst open, slamming against the walls with a deafening thud. You don't even need to turn around to know who it is.

"Sorry I'm late!" Satoru's voice rings out, loud and unapologetic, echoing through the silent church.

You finally turn, and there he is, Gojo Satoru, standing in the doorway like he's just walked in from some casual errand and not his own wedding. His hair is tousled, his sunglasses perched on top of his head, and he's grinning like this is all some kind of joke.

Satoru saunters down the aisle, waving casually at the guests. "Miss me?"

Your family collectively groans, and you can feel Nanami's simmering rage without even looking at him. Shoko rolls her eyes dramatically, muttering something about "classic Gojo" under her breath. You, however, stay rooted in place, fingers tightening their grip on your bouquet.

Satoru reaches the altar, looking perfectly at ease, as though he hasn't just kept an entire wedding party waiting for over an hour. He slides up next to you, his grin widening when he sees the expression on your face.

"Hey, sweetheart," he says softly, leaning in just enough for only you to hear. "Sorry about that. Had to deal with a curse situation. You know how it is. Life of a sorcerer and all that."

You stare at him, your mouth a tight line.

You've gotten used to Satoru's antics over the years, but even for him, this is too much. Still, speaking directly, even to scold him, could have unintended consequences thanks to your cursed technique, so instead, you breathe deeply through your nose and give him a pointed glare.

"Ah… right," Satoru says, catching on. "You’re upset. Understandable."

Nanami, who's been silent up until now, finally speaks up, his voice thick with irritation. "You're lucky we haven't already canceled the ceremony."

Shoko nods. "An hour late, Satoru? Even for you, that's ridiculous."

Satoru throws up his hands in mock defense. "Okay, okay, I know! But hey, at least I showed up, right? That's what matters."

You can feel the tension radiating from the entire room, but before you can think of how to express your feelings in a way that doesn’t result in your cursed speech accidentally knocking everyone unconscious, you feel a tug at your dress again.

You glance down, and Toge is looking up at you with wide, concerned eyes. "Tuna mayo," he says softly, which is his way of saying, Are you okay?

You crouch down slightly, giving Toge a reassuring smile and patting his head. It's a small moment, but it helps ground you. You straighten up, turning back to Satoru, who's watching the interaction with a sheepish grin.

"Look," he starts, "I know I messed up. Big time. But hey," he adds, flashing a grin, "You know you love me anyway, right?"

You stare at him for a long moment, taking in his disheveled appearance, his unshakable confidence, and his infuriating grin. Despite everything, despite the frustration, the embarrassment, and the whispers from your family, you can’t help but feel the corners of your mouth twitch upward.

Maybe it’s because this is so typically Satoru—unpredictable, chaotic, and yet, somehow, charming in his own way.

You take a deep breath and raise your hand to his chest, pressing two fingers lightly against him. It's a gesture you often use when you can't speak, one that means I forgive you, but don't do it again.

Satoru's grin softens, and he takes your hand, squeezing it gently. "I promise," he says, and for once, there's no teasing in his tone. "I won't mess up again. Well, not today, at least."

Nanami clears his throat. "We'll see about that."

Shoko shrugs. "Honestly, I'm just impressed you got here at all."

Toge, ever the voice of simplicity, tugs on Satoru's sleeve and mutters, "Okaka."

Satoru gasps dramatically. "Betrayed by a child! I thought we were family, Toge!"

Toge just crosses his arms, unimpressed, as you all share a quiet laugh at Satoru's expense.

Satoru turns back to you, his grin back in full force. "So, what do you say we make this official, huh?"

You glance at the altar, the officiant who's been waiting patiently, and then back at Satoru. Slowly, you nod.

Satoru's face lights up, and with a flourish, he turns to the officiant. "Alright! Let's get married before anything else decides to go wrong!"

As the ceremony finally begins, you can't help but feel a mix of exasperation and fondness swelling in your chest. Life with Satoru will never be predictable, but as you look at him now, standing beside you, you know one thing for certain: it will always be interesting.

And in his own chaotic way, you know that Satoru loves you—enough to show up late to your wedding but still make you smile in the end.

You squeeze his hand once more and and he chuckles, leaning down to kiss your forehead and whisper, "I love you, too."

—

Later that night, after the wedding reception winds down and everyone heads home, you and Satoru return to your shared house. You're still wearing your wedding dress, and he's got his suit jacket slung over his shoulder, looking as carefree as ever. He's been trying to sweet-talk you the whole way back, as if he hadn’t shown up an hour late to your own wedding.

"Come on, sweetheart, it wasn't that bad." He grins, nudging you with his elbow. "Everyone had a good laugh, right?"

You give him a sidelong glance, your silence speaking volumes.

"Okay, okay, maybe I pushed it a little. But hey, I made it in the end, didn't I? That's what counts!" He flashes his signature smile, the one that usually gets him out of trouble.

You pause at the front door, turning to look at him. For a moment, he thinks he's won you over. You're smiling, after all. But then, without a word, you toss him a single pillow.

Satoru catches it with a confused look. "Uh…what's this?"

You gesture to the pillow and point to the roof.

His smile falters. "Wait, wait, wait, hold on. You're not serious, right?" His laugh is nervous now. "You forgave me at the altar! We're good! We're married now!"

You shrug and head inside, but before he can follow, you turn around, blocking the doorway with your body. His eyes widen in panic.

"Come on! I can't sleep on the roof on our wedding night! People will talk! Nanami will find out and he will never let me live it down!"

Your only response is a raised eyebrow, and you slowly, deliberately, start to close the door.

Satoru jams his foot in the door with a dramatic gasp. "But I thought you loved me!"

You don't need cursed speech for this one. You give him a sweet, innocent smile—the kind of smile that would normally melt him on the spot. But tonight, it just spells doom for him. He knows that smile. It's the smile that means, "I do love you, but you're not getting away with this."

He groans. "Seriously? After all the curses I've fought, this is how I go down?" He leans his head dramatically against the doorframe, clutching his pillow like a lifeline. "Sleeping on the roof like a stray cat? Come on, babe, be reasonable!"

You sigh, your patience wearing thin. He's still whining.

With a subtle tap into your cursed technique, you say the words that you've been holding back all night. "Sleep on the roof tonight."

The power of your cursed speech echoes through the air, and Satoru visibly flinches. His body moves on its own, turning toward the roof like a puppet on strings.

"W-wait! No! I take it back! I take it back! You don't have to use that—"

But it's too late. His legs betray him, carrying him toward the roof with a dramatic flair, like he's being pulled by some invisible force. You watch as he scrambles helplessly, pillow tucked under one arm as he clambers up to his new "bed" for the night.

From the roof, you hear him groan, his voice tinged with betrayal. "But I'm your husband now! Doesn't that mean anything?!"

You close the door, letting out a small chuckle. Behind it, you hear him muttering to himself in frustration.

"Of all the things to use your cursed speech for..." he grumbles. "Could've just told me you were mad! But noooo, had to make me sleep outside on the night of my own wedding!"

You hear some shuffling from the roof, and then: "At least give me a blanket! It's cold up here!"

You open a window just wide enough to toss him a thin, scratchy blanket, watching it float up to where he's perched.

"Thanks," he mutters sarcastically. "This’ll totally keep me warm."

There's silence for a few moments before his voice drifts down again.

"I'm sorryyyyy!" he yells, his voice carrying through the night air. "I'll never be late again, I swear! I'll be early to everything! Our anniversaries, your birthday, breakfast—you name it! I'll never mess up again!"

You shake your head, smirking to yourself, knowing full well that's a promise he'll break within the month. But for tonight, the roof will teach him a lesson.

From the roof, you hear a long, pitiful sigh. "I thought married life would be more… cozy. Not like… this."

Finally, after what seems like an eternity of grumbling, he goes quiet, probably giving in to the reality of his situation. The stars twinkle overhead, and for a moment, all is peaceful.

Until—

"I bet Nanami's gonna find out and give me that look tomorrow." His voice suddenly perks up again, this time with a hint of dread. "You know the one. The 'I told you so' look. Ugh, I hate that look…"

You roll your eyes, closing the window fully this time, knowing that his whining will eventually tire him out. But still, you can't help but smile.

You know he'll be back to his usual antics by tomorrow, but for now, he can enjoy the roof.

As you settle into bed, you can faintly hear Satoru one last time from outside.

"You'll miss me eventually! No one can resist my charm!"

You smile into your pillow. Not tonight, Satoru. Not tonight.

[whothehellisdante]

help I’m starving I need feedback so I’ll know if people actually like my fic. 

I'm not expecting a thorough plot analysis or constructive criticism omg please just some acknowledgment? a morsel of support? a crumb of approval? maybe???

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34994254

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART ONE

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, death (minor characters), bits of gore, 141 are mean pirates, kidnapping

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

The village was tranquil as you stepped through it, bare feet threading through the soft grass, hands wrapped around the handle of a woven basket. It was peaceful, as it always was, without the souls of townsfolk to burden you. They didn’t dare bother you with the witness of elders around, keeping any torment to themselves until nightfall when the small vendor shops had closed up for the evening and the old folk returned to their homes.

You basked in the warm summer rays that shined down on you as you walked past the various shops. Really, they were far from any real shops, only showcasing simple merchant carts with limited supply for the village to gather, but it was a small village, and everything you needed was for mere survival. You weren’t a greedy woman, and you were plenty grateful.

Stepping up to one of the merchants, you offered a polite smile to the older woman sitting behind it, bowing your head in greeting.

“Hello, Mary,” you addressed, and she perked up from where she stood, occupied with counting together the sum of coins she’d earned throughout the day. She reflected her own smile to you, standing a bit taller. A wrinkled hand lifted to brush strands of her gray hair that had blown astray in the light breeze, revealing her radiance.

“Afternoon, dove,” she greeted in return. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Just need a few more herbs, is all,” you shrugged, shifting your eyes away from hers to pick around her cart. Mary always had plenty on hand, and usually snuck you a few extras when you weren’t looking.

“Ah, I see. Well, you know the routine, dove. Feel free to pick as many as you need,” she encouraged. You smiled graciously, collecting a small variety of herbs and plants to place in your basket.

It was a different decision every week, seeing as you often performed trial and error with them in the comfort of your home. Despite many in your village disagreeing with your efforts, you were attempting to learn more about medicines. The village was in desperate need of a proper healer, and a female one at that. The male in current practice was much too biased and reckless, though you were sure to get a mouthful if you were to express the concern.

So, you took it upon yourself. Living in the village rather than out on the mainland, it wasn’t a simple teaching. Resources and education were much more difficult to come by, and it wasn’t deemed necessary information for women to have. It was exactly the reason why you were seen as a bit of an enigmatic outcast to all – all except Mary, of course. Perhaps she simply pitied you.

“This will be all for me, Mary,” you declared, setting the basket on top of her cart. Reaching for the small pouch that rested comfortably on your hip, you dug through it, collecting a few bronze coins and setting them in the old woman’s frail hand.

Mary accepted, placing the coins in her own pouch and throwing you a kind smile. “You sure, dove? Nothing else I can do for you?”

“I’m sure,” you confirmed with a nod. “Still in the experimentation phase, I fear.”

“You’ll get there,” she assured, clasping one of your hands between both of hers and giving it an encouraging shake before releasing. “Perhaps I’ll come visit you one of these days. An old lady like myself could use a few tweaks.”

This elicited a light laugh from you, shaking your head as you grasped the basket. “You look as healthy as a babe, Mary. But yes, please do. You know my door is always open for you.”

The two of you said your sweet farewells before you set off down the grassy trail once again. You passed the other merchants, who didn’t welcome you with the same kindness Mary had, but didn’t scare you away with shrewdness either. It was a typical routine, at this point, for others to look down on you. A woman, unwilling to marry and bear children and instead, studying medicine. A true scandal, some might say.

The walk back to your home was done so without issue, but when your humble abode came into sight, tucked away on the farther side of the village for more private practice, the faces of recognizable men came into view. This was just as frequent as the judgeful side eyes you received, but much more inconvenient.

“Afternoon, dove,” one of the men greeted with a slimy smile, the nickname the village had given you slipping off of his tongue like rotted poison. Dove, a name of something so beautiful, given out of mere pettiness. You were free like a bird, yet you should’ve been confined to your cage. Something pretty to look at, but proving no use. “Never quite got back to me about my courtship.”

Right. You had ignored it on purpose. Though deemed as strange and grotesque by the townspeople, this particular man hadn’t quite gotten the hint. Lucius was his name, fitting, seeing as he was as close to the devil as they came. Conceited and boastful with no decency of leaving you be.

He was awfully determined in wanting to fix you, to make you the housewife everybody expected you to be, just like the other village women. It was common practice, seeing as women didn’t do much other than simply that. While some were quite content with that lifestyle, you sought out more. You didn’t want to be chained down to a simple man who had nothing but arrogance to offer, nor a man you weren’t in love with.

“Yes, that’s quite right,” you confirmed dryly, stepping up to your home. He blocked the doorway, barricading you from entering.

“It’s quite rude for a lady to reject,” he interjected, a devilish smile plastered on his face. You blinked up at him with a look of indifference. “I am only asking for an answer.”

“I believe I’ve told you no plenty of times,” you sighed, adjusting the basket on your hip. “I am simply not interested.”

He sucked his teeth together, glowering down at you from where he stood. It was clear he wasn’t pleased with the answer, but unfortunately for him, it was all he was going to get. You were solid with your decision, and god forbid you did change your mind on being a wife and mother, it would not be with him.

“Can’t change your mind at all, dove?” he asked in fake sweetness, reaching for your hand that wasn’t holding the basket. He took it in his grip, much too tight for your liking. “Perhaps I can help change it if you give me one night.”

You scowled at his underlying tone, pulling your hand from his grasp and resting it on the knob of your door. You pushed it open, stepping inside before turning to him. “Please do not humor me with such indications. I am not interested, nor will I change my mind.”

Abruptly closing the door on him, you settled inside of your home, breathing a low sigh of relief. You could hear his faint chuckles with the other men present, their footsteps soft against the grass as they took their leave. He never took things too far, such as forcing his way into your home or worse, forcing himself on you, but you feared that day may come the longer you rejected his advances.

You set your basket on your desk, slouching down in the old chair you’d spend days upon days occupied in. Your journal sat open with ink scattered on the pages in your scribbled handwriting, brief sketches drawn about of the varying herbs you worked tirelessly on. Above you, jars lined the shelves with fading labels, filled with makeshift medicines of all kinds.

With the village and its people now out of sight and out of mind, you resumed your studies with the fresh herbs, focusing on what your heart truly desired.

You don’t remember falling asleep. It had been hours of you with a pen in your hand, jotting down useful notes for your studies, and it was no surprise you had succumbed to exhaustion at the comfort of your desk. Your cot in the corner of the room was more a stranger than anything, but with the sight of moonlight still pouring in through your small windows, you debated on moving over to it so you could resume.

Standing from your desk, you rubbed the sleepiness crusting over your eyes, a yawn threatening to tug through your throat. Just as you began your short trek to your bed, a slight tinge of orange caught your eye, peeking in through your window. It was faint, barely knowledgeable.

Curiosity got the best of you, and through your hazy state, you tugged open the front door of your small cottage, daring to see what was outside. The orange grew brighter in view now that the door opening had allowed more light to pool in, and when you rubbed at your eyes once more, you recognized it as fire.

Fire, burning fiercely in the night, eating away at your village. The sounds of terrified screams and chaotic madness became abundantly clear when you stepped outside. It made your blood run cold. All hairs on your body stood straight in warning, beckoning you to return inside, to hide.

As much as you wanted to listen, the first thing to vacate your mind was Mary. In the brush of flames, you needed to know if she was alright, if she had gotten to safety before the angry fire had broken into her own home. Where most of the townsfolk treated you as a mere joke, Mary was the one who had given you kindness when needed.

Your feet moved in a rush to sprint towards the village, the grass damp from the midnight dew and sticking to your soles. The closer you came towards the heart of the village, the louder things grew. It was blood-curling, hearing booming voices bark various orders while others shouted in petrified fear. Mary’s house was on the other side of the village, and in an act of triumph, you aimed for it.

The heat of the flames became more apparent as you closed in on the town center. Townsfolk that you had grown with since a baby were in a frenzy, some bloodied, some weeping. They looked like they had gone through the pits of hell and crawled their way out, only to be inches away from being dragged back in again.

There was no explanation for why the men of your village were wearing the crimson color of fresh blood, or why some were laying in broken heaps on the ground. They were in agony, shrieking in deafening decibels. The healer in you wanted to stop everything you were doing to aid them, but the child in you wanted to reach Mary first.

You did what your heart wanted and ran for Mary.

Approaching her house, the flames had not yet approached. It wasn’t burned to ash, nor was it in shambles. Instead, one large man had Mary in their hold by each of her arms as she attempted to fight him off while another ransacked her home.

“Mary!” you shouted, helpless. The man’s head whipped in the direction of your voice, cruel eyes narrowing in on you. Mary joined him, fearful eyes catching yours.

The sight of the men was foreign to you, but you’d recognize heartless monsters such as them anywhere. They were mere stories shared between the village, often used to scare the children away from the sea for their own protection. The village was so small, nobody had ever worried about the stories happening to them.

Pirates. Cruel, greedy, malicious. Like dogs off a leash, bearing sharp teeth and frothing at the mouth. They raided innocent villages for their supply, leaving it in disarray once they got what they wanted. Sick bastards who deserved punishment, yet slipped away in the roaring waves of the sea before it could be handed to them.

“Let go of her,” you pleaded with the pirate, hands clasped together. You knew you couldn’t fight him off, even if you tried. Mary was just as powerless as you, and old age was starting to catch up to her. She was fragile, and with the way he was handling her, you feared she’d get harmed.

The mysterious pirate continued to stare at you with an unreadable expression. He grunted in annoyance, loosening his grip on Mary but not quite releasing. It did nothing to comfort you, and that feeling grew tenfold when the other pirate stepped out of Mary’s home, locking in on you.

“Grab tha’ one, will ye, Gaz?” the one holding Mary huffed, gesturing towards you with a nod of his head. The other, Gaz, nodded in return, sauntering up to you like death on wheels. You needed to run, to escape, but he was too quick. Before you knew it, Gaz’s arms had wrapped around your waist, hauling you over his shoulder like a doll.

Flailing in his embrace did nothing. His grip was firm, arm locked on to you impossibly tight, and the punches you threw to his back seemed almost comical to him.

“Find anythin’?” the other asked Gaz. Gaz shook his head, releasing a frustrated exhale.

As chaos ensued around you, the two men began dragging you and Mary along towards the heart of the village where you were moments ago. Gaz’s grip loosened on you, before he dropped you to the damp ground carelessly. You landed with a huff, soreness soaring through your back.

Looking around, you realized that many of the townsfolk were in the same condition. Lined up besides one another, pleading for their lives, weeping with ugly snot running from their noses. Mary was beside you, shaken but unharmed from the looks of it. She stared at you with heart wrenching fright, and you wished you could’ve told her things would be okay.

But they weren’t. The village was set ablaze, its people lined up like prisoners with a group of pirates looming over them like reapers prepared for death. The peace from this afternoon had vanished, and there would be no return. Things would be forever different, if they spared your lives.

Gaz and the other pirate stood side by side as they looked over the townsfolk. Another was beside them, face distorted by a ghastly mask that resembled a skull. It sent shivers down your spine. It was as if you truly were looking death in the eye.

A fourth pirate stepped forward, eyes that should’ve been considered kind instead staring down every last villager with heated observation. He was silent as he paced slowly, hands behind his back, the fire casting a doomful glow upon his face.

“My name is Captain Price,” he introduced. His voice was booming with authority. “If you do not wish to aid us, then we do not wish to aid you. The choice is yours.”

Sweat beaded your hairline from both the flames of fire scorching around you, and the anxiety that spiked inside of you. Your eyes locked in on the Captain, watching his every movement, noting the way he stood tall and proud, showcasing the true power he held. The villagers and you were helpless against him and his crew, and he was ensuring that it was obvious.

“We seek a medic. If you cannot provide that to us, then you are of no use to me,” he explained, pausing his pacing. He took in the sight of every grim face. Once he landed on you, you shivered, looking away in a panic. “I will ask you once. Who is your medic?”

Deafening silence filled the air apart from the flickering flames that threatened to consume us whole. Nobody dared to speak a word, nor did they look away from Price. It was as if time had stopped and everybody froze.

Price sniffed, glancing around the villagers. Though he seemed collected in his behavior, you could recognize the impatience from the way his lip twitched and his shoulders tensed.

“The Captain asked you lot a question,” Gaz sneered in defense. Price spared him a glance before returning focus. Still, nobody spoke for the next few moments.

It wasn’t until Price’s hand drifted to his waist, hand coming to rest on a handgun that the air shifted into one of unease. The sight of it made you sick to the stomach. Handguns were a specialty only the wealthy or military could acquire. They were rare and expensive, a luxury to some, but deadly. One click, and your soul was taken right from your body.

Price grasped the handgun, holding it in his hand as if it were a toy. He stepped up to the line of villagers, peering down at them like useless pigs. The sight of the gun had women quivering in fear, tears streaming down their rosy cheeks. The men were men no more, stripped away of their masculinity and replaced with little boys, unable to protect their kin and fulfill their duty as defenders.

The gun was raised, threat building with every inch. The barrel pointed right at the horror-stricken face of the very man who intruded on your home earlier – Lucius. Gone was the cocky mockery of a man, replaced with a whimpering boy who feared death just as much as another. He was shaking, shoulders slouched in attempts to appear small.

“We will try this again,” Price demanded. The cold barrel pressed to the temple of Lucius’ head and you could do nothing but sit and watch, unsure of what to feel. Sure, he kept a sour taste in your mouth simply from being. But to wish death on him for being a hindrance was distasteful. “Who is your medic?”

Lucius wouldn’t possibly rat you out. He was a selfish man who took what he wanted, but surely, he wouldn’t. He wasn’t that cruel.

The coward’s shaky hand lifted to point in your direction. It felt as if he were throwing a sharp dagger at you, the way he exposed the occupation you’d been so meticulously working hard towards.

Eyes shifted towards you, sending an ice cold burst through your veins. They were prodding, dissecting you from head to toe as if you were an experiment for them to test on. It was unsettling, sinking your heart down to the pits of your stomach.

“You’re the medic?” Price questioned. He hadn’t lowered his weapon, keeping it firm against Lucius’ skull, but his attention had shifted to you. His eyes weren’t warm and kind like they were shaped out to be, but rather cold, glossed over with hardened hostility.

“I–” You swallowed. “I am merely a medic in practice. I am not a professional, I do not know proper teachings–”

“Ghost,” he interrupted, whipping his head to look at the masked man. Ghost was a brute of a man, a shadow that would’ve been consumed by the night if not for the illuminating glow coming from the village in flames. “Take her so she can gather her things. She’s coming with us.”

Dread struck you right to the core. You wanted to beg for them to leave you be, to explain that you weren’t what they wanted. You didn’t want to be stripped from your home and tossed onto a ship with no clue of where your next destination was. These men were dangerous, seeping pure rancor and poisoning the very ground you laid on. Leaving with them was a death sentence.

Ghost said nothing, and even if he did, you wouldn’t have been able to hear it from the subtle weeping from villagers beside you. His strides were long as he approached you, and without warning, his rough hand grasped your elbow, hauling you to your feet. The force startled you, throwing you off balance but his grip was tight enough to keep you grounded.

As you were dragged away towards the direction of your home, you could hear an uproar of cries. Terror struck the village once more and you could do nothing but accept fate for what it was. You wanted to turn your head to see what was becoming of your people, but you were scared. Scared of what you may see, scared of what Ghost will do if you look.

You kept your gaze forward, legs moving quickly to match the heavy pace of Ghost, guiding the lion into your den.

Arriving at your home, you were hit with the realization that it would be the last time entering it. Your hard work would vanish, the space you made into your security blanket would be destroyed, burned to ash once the flames settled. It tore your heart to bits.

“Hurry up,” Ghost gruffed, his voice gravelly and hoarse. Just like Price, it was assertive, leaving no room for discussion.

You made haste to pack your essentials into a flimsy satchel. It wouldn’t be able to fit much, and you could only pray they would at least provide you with bare necessities on your voyage to hell. In your satchel went your journal, the cluttered jars of experimental medicines, your favorite quill, and a daring change of clothes. If Ghost thought you to remain alive long enough to have the opportunity to redress, he didn’t express it.

“That all?” he huffed, and when you nodded, he seized your arm again. “Let’s go.”

The sight of your home became a distant memory the farther you went from it. Already your body was pleading to go back, to curl up in bed and pretend that all of this was a sick dream. You regretted not making your cot of more use, sleeping in that damned wooden chair instead.

By the time you arrived back at the town center, it was like witnessing purgatory itself. Bloodshed with the bodies of your people laid across the ground like animals tossed aside. Useless and unworthy, that was how these pirates treated them. Though your people had never been kind to you, this was a fate you would never have wished upon them.

Their faces were unrecognizable as you took them in. Some burned, some beaten so bloody their faces had swelled into ugly monsters, some slain. The sight of the deceased made you want to vomit, bile piling in your throat and threatening to expel out.

Your eyes frantically searched for Mary, aching to know if they had given her mercy. She was a frail woman, withering with her age. She was innocent.

You couldn’t find her familiar face, and you weren’t sure whether to feel relieved or dreadful.

The three other pirates were standing around one another. They were unphased by the actions they had bestowed upon the village, as if it was another simple day. It unnerved you, rattling your bones with burrowing fear. When they noticed the return of you and their crewmate, they wasted no time in guiding you off to the small port in which their ship had been docked.

It was large, wood tainted with brown so dark it could’ve been black. It blended in with the abyss of the sea, which you realized was entirely the point. Unnoticed and concealed.

Ghost didn’t let go of you as he helped you on to the ship, nor did he release once your bare feet connected with the wood. It was just as restricting as before, causing a light pulse to form in your bicep where he held you.

“Take her to the chambers until we figure out the next step,” Price ordered Ghost, nodding his head in the direction of raggedy doors. You could only imagine what lies behind them, waiting for you.

Ghost grunted in response, tugging you with him and having you stumble on your own two feet. The wood was rough and sharp on your soles, slicing tiny splinters into your skin. Shoes weren’t needed in your village unless it was winter, and even then, the grass was always enough to consume them in warmth. Now, you were regretting not owning a pair.

“In you go,” Ghost uttered once he had the door pulled open, shoving you down a small flight of stairs towards the lower section of the ship. It was dingy and unlit, the only light seeping in being the moonlight from a tiny window.

Once inside, you recognized your new home as a cell. Barred and caged in, being tossed inside carelessly. There was nothing but a cot and a bucket to relieve yourself. It was completely empty and void of comfort.

Ghost shut the cell door, locking it with an annoyed grunt. You hadn’t even noticed him pull out the set of keys to open it for you, nor had you noticed when he locked you in. You watched as he thrusted the keys in his back pocket, the only evidence of its presence being the small glint of metal from the moon’s light.

“Wait!” you cried out when he turned to leave. You scrambled on the cell floor, hands wrapping around the cold bars. He paused his walk, throwing you a look of disinterest. “You can’t just leave me in here!”

Ghost snorted in what you dared to say amusement. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, princess. You’ll be of use soon enough.”

Ignoring your pleas, he stepped up the stairs and returned to the main deck, shutting the door and leaving you utterly alone. Silence filled the air apart from the calming waves of the sea, though it did nothing to soothe you. You were helpless, deprived of any form of escape.

You spent what felt like hours on the floor of your cell, weeping into your own hands, silently praying to a God to release you. When nobody came to your rescue, you knew it was far too late for a miracle. This would be your new life, your new home, for as long as they kept you alive.

Part of you wished they would’ve just killed you instead.

[d4yl1ghts]

Hi could I request an Anthony c wife reader fic where they are in a heated argument and Anthony accidentally says he regret marrying reader so she ends up giving him the silent treatment and just ignoring him so he can grovel for her forgiveness

regrets

(mean?) anthony bridgerton x wife, fem!reader

summary: anthony realises the importance of words

warnings: argument

-

As you trudged down the antique staircase, you couldn’t help but ponder the lack of the presence of your husband recently. He was always locked away in his office and whenever you confronted him, he would always reply with: “I still have more work, Y/N.” After he said that, he would kick you out of his office. You were really missing Anthony currently and you longed for his touch, despite never really enjoying physical touch, you longed for his touch.

And so that is what led you to now, storming into his office, without even knocking. Anthony huffed quietly as he looked up to see you. He held his head in his hands as he stared back down at his pile of paperwork. “What?”, he asked blatantly as he eyed the paper. “Is that all you have to say to me?”, you asked bemusedly. “Yes. You stormed into my office whilst I am working.”, he justified. “Do you only care for your work and business?”, you asked with an upset expression.

“No, it is just so overwhelming sometimes. It is a requirement that I see to all of it as the Viscount.”, he responded as he shuffled in his chair. “Is it not a duty to spend some of your time in the presence of your wife?”, you asked as you focused on the elegant wooden desk, avoiding his intense eyes that often gave away his emotions. “I suppose so. I almost regret marrying.”, he confessed. You simply stared at him. Did he really regret marrying you? Why did he go through all of the effort of making your wedding perfect for you if he didn’t want to get married?

Silently, you forced your feet to carry you back into your bedroom which was fortunately not shared with Anthony. In the past, you would spend your sleepless nights in his room and he would go into yours if he burned for your passion. You slammed the door shut and locked it: to be certain that he would not enter your chambers. You needed to be alone.

It was safe to say that it was yet another sleepless night but he was not there to ease you through it. Amidst the sunlight of the rising sun, you hastily got ready for the day; you requested for your hair to be more simply styled today and your robes less detailed and delicate. Truth be told, you only asked your maids to do your hair gracefully for Anthony, you hated the process and you decided that you would not care about what he’d have to say about your robes: he didn’t need to acknowledge his wife anymore.

You sat at the table in silence whilst you ate breakfast with him opposite you, none of you making eye contact.

You sat on the sofa as you read in silence which felt unusual with out your updates to Anthony and his queries on where you had gotten up to.

You sat in the picturesque garden in silence.

It was not until dinner that Anthony broke the silence. “Y/N.”, he began as you pushed your food away from you like Anthony had you. “I do not know where to begin.”, he continued as he gazed across at you. “When I spoke such words, I did not realise they would be so harmful and impactful.”

You glanced up for a split second and saw the sparkle of sincerity in his eyes before going back to playing with your food. “I know that you will not ever truly forgive me for those unkind words but I hope you will at least know this: I did not mean it like that. In fact, I almost meant the opposite: I feel as though because I am the Viscount I am unable to take care of my wife and spend the needed time with her.”, he stated in one breath. “I almost feel pitiful for my wife: no one should be neglected simply because they are my wife. I just do not know how a woman could love me for I was not made to be a tender husband or a loving father. I was made to be the Viscount. Those are my duties. And so I thought to myself: you deserve so much better and so why should I bother when I cannot give what you require?”, he pleaded with a new sense of vulnerability in his eyes. You knew how hard it was for him to open up and for him to admit to this, you were proud of him.

“Anthony, you are the perfect husband (when you want to be).”, you mentioned teasingly. He let out a teary smile. “And I know that in the future you will be the most loving father to our children. You even admitting to feeling like such proves it.”, you responded as you slowly made your way over to his side of the table.

Once you had reached him, you carefully caressed his jawline as he gazed up at you whilst tears gently rolled down his cheeks. He placed his arms around your neck and pulled you down so he was able to passionately kiss you, conveying his love for you. As he pulled away, he cautiously grabbed your hand and guided you into his room. For the first time in weeks, you slept through the whole night.

[d-targaryenshoe]

So Entirely Bridgerton - Benedict Bridgerton

Word Count: 1031

Summary: A woman becomes with child, yet the child's father might feel unsatisfied at times, will he not?

Benedict Bridgerton had never been one to do things by halves, and this included annoying you.

From the moment you met, it was clear that Benedict had an irrepressible, almost childlike energy that he often directed towards you, much to your chagrin.

Now, as you were well into your pregnancy, Benedict's antics had only increased in both frequency and creativity.

"Honestly, Benedict," you sighed one sunny afternoon, reclining on the chaise lounge in your sitting room, "Can you not find something to do?"

You rubbed your swollen belly absentmindedly, your expression a mixture of exasperation and affection.

Benedict, who was attempting to balance a spoon on his nose, looked at you with a wide grin.

"Who else should I annoy if not my wife?" he quipped, causing the spoon to clatter to the floor, making him sigh.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. "Perhaps the staff, or better yet, one of your brothers?" you suggested, picking up your embroidery and resuming your work.

"But they don't react quite like you do, my love," Benedict replied, coming to sit beside you.

He placed a hand on your belly, feeling the baby kick. "Besides, I'm doing my duty as a husband. Keeping you entertained and distracted."

"Entertained? More like exasperated," you muttered, though you leaned into his touch.

The truth was, despite Benedict's constant mischief, you loved him dearly.

His playful nature was one of the things that had drawn you to him in the first place, even if it did drive you to the brink of madness at times.

Benedict's eyes sparkled with mischief as he kissed your temple. "You married me knowing full well what you were getting into," he reminded you. "A Bridgerton through and through."

You laughed softly, your annoyance melting away. "Yes, I suppose I did," you admitted. "But right now, what I need more than anything is some peace."

Benedict sighed dramatically, flopping back onto the chaise. "Peace? How dreadfully boring," he lamented, though he gave you a fond look. "Very well, my dear. I shall endeavor to be the model husband for the remainder of the afternoon."

"I'll believe it when I see it," you teased, but you appreciated his effort.

Benedict might be a handful, but he was also incredibly loving and devoted.

His heart was always in the right place, even if his methods were bizarre.

For a while, Benedict did his best to remain still and quiet, but it was a struggle for him.

You watched him with a mixture of amusement and pity. You knew how hard it was for him to suppress his natural exuberance.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Benedict could bear it no longer.

"Would you like to take a walk in the garden?" he suggested suddenly, sitting up. "The fresh air might do us both some good."

You considered the idea. A walk did sound nice, and it would give Benedict an outlet for his restless energy.

"Alright," you agreed, setting aside your embroidery. "But no running off ahead and leaving me behind. You'll stay by my side."

"Of course, my love," Benedict agreed readily, offering you his arm. "Lead the way."

You made your way outside, the warm afternoon sun casting a golden glow over the lush gardens.

Benedict kept his promise, walking slowly and steadily beside you, his hand never leaving yours.

You strolled among the flowers, enjoying the peace and tranquility.

"You know," you said after a while, "I do appreciate your efforts to keep me entertained. But sometimes, I just need a little space."

"I understand," Benedict said, and you could see the sincerity in his eyes. "I only want to make you happy."

"You do," you assured him, squeezing his hand. "You always do. Even when you're driving me mad."

Benedict laughed, a sound that was full of love and joy. "And you, my dear, make me the happiest man in the world," he said, stopping to kiss you gently. "Even when you're scolding me."

You smiled, feeling a surge of affection for your husband. "Well, it's good to know we're equally matched in that regard," you said.

You continued your walk, enjoying each other's company and the beauty of the garden.

Benedict's energy was still palpable, but he channeled it into more subdued activities, pointing out different flowers and recounting amusing stories.

You found yourself laughing more than you had in days, grateful for your husband's irrepressible spirit.

As you rounded a corner, you came upon a bench nestled beneath a large oak tree.

"Shall we sit for a while?" Benedict suggested, guiding you to the bench.

You nodded, grateful for the rest. As you sat together, Benedict wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

"This is nice," you said softly, resting your head on his shoulder. "Just the two of us, enjoying the moment."

"It is," Benedict agreed, kissing the top of your head. "And it's a moment I'll cherish."

You sat in companionable silence, the sounds of the garden enveloping you.

You closed your eyes, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. Benedict's presence was a comfort, his love a constant reassurance.

"You know," you said after a while, "I think our child is going to have a lot of fun with you as their father."

Benedict chuckled. "I certainly hope so," he said. "I plan to be just as annoying to them as I am to you."

"Poor child," you said with a mock sigh. "They won't stand a chance."

"Or perhaps they'll be just like me," Benedict said with a grin. "And then you'll have two of us to deal with."

You groaned playfully. "Heaven help me," you said, though the thought filled you with warmth. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

You stayed in the garden until the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden glow over everything.

As you made your way back to the house, you felt a sense of contentment settle over you.

Despite Benedict's antics, you knew you were incredibly lucky to have him.

He was your partner, your confidant, and the love of your life.

[mellowsaturns]

for you, anything

JOEL MILLER X READER

summary: joel do what he does best, smuggling and taking care of you

warnings: fluff, soft!joel, domesticity, established relationship, reader caught a cold, sick fic

wc: 900

—

After spending years and years fighting to survive a cordyceps apocalypse and tolerating a totalitarian government regime, you were no stranger to hardship. But it seemed like one thing has finally gotten to you, something that had you weak and bedridden for days now, something so insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but it happened—you had managed to catch a common cold.

Okay, maybe you were being a little dramatic, but the combination of a sore throat, the inability to breathe, the stuffy nose and constant chills was making you feel awful.

The door opens and on a normal day, you would’ve been alert and ready for any potential intruders but you had no energy left and besides, you knew who it was just by the creaks of the floorboard.

You peek out from the corner of your eyes and Joel was leaning against the wall at the end of your bed, looking at you in pity.

“Shut up,” you groaned, pulling the thin blanket over your head.

That garnered a small chuckle from him. “Didn’t even say anything,” he said.

“You didn’t need to,” you murmured.

Feeling the bed dip with his pressure, he pulled the cover away. “How are you feeling today?”

“Like shit,” you replied as he brought his hand up to feel your forehead. “I can feel a major headache forming,” you added with a pout.

“Poor baby,” he cooed.

You gave him a weak punch in the arm. “You dick, if you’re here to make fun of me just leave.”

He snickered for a bit, clearly enjoying this before mellowing. “Here,” he said, handing you a paper bag you didn’t even know he was holding.

Raising an eyebrow in suspicion you took a peek inside. “Joel,” you gasped, “How did you manage to get these?”

Because inside the bag were different envelopes of white pills and packets of powdered electrolytes, everything you needed to help you get through a cold—probably way past its expiration date, but still, these were highly prized. You would have had to work months just to get enough rations for these items. And Joel just handed you these…

“Are you seriously questioning my skills?”

You scoffed. “No. But you really didn’t have to get all these for me. I would have gotten better with time.” And you know that he knows it too, but he still got these things for you because he knew it would help alleviate the pain even if it was for a little bit. And no matter how much he downplays it, you know how hard it must’ve been for him to get these items. You know because you’re in this business with him.

You couldn’t help the smile that was tugging at your lips. “But… Thank you. I appreciate you doing this for me.” For always taking care of me.

He hummed and looked away, embarrassed at the gratitude you were giving him. Getting up, he headed to the living room and grabbed you a bottle of water.

“Let me,” he offered, before placing the bottle on your bedside and helping you sit straight. He popped the medicine onto your palm and you swallowed them down. And maybe it was the placebo effect but you were feeling better already—or maybe it was just the fact that Joel was here.

Sometimes, he really was the best medicine.

Suddenly, he pulled out something from his pocket. “Here.”

You frowned in confusion before a surprised expression spread all over. “Joel…” you whispered.

Turning the package in your hand, you examined its content and the slight wrinkles of the plastic. He had managed to find you a bag of those hard fruity candies that you once loved when the world wasn’t in ruins—something you had forgotten until now. Something meaningless you told him all those years ago when you first got to know each other and reminisced about the good old days.

You wanted to cry. He went through all this effort just to make your life a little easier and joyful when you know it made his life a little harder.

When you looked up at him, he gave you a shy smile. “Thought it might make you happy.”

You were beaming. And if you weren’t sick, you’d kiss him.

He started taking off his shoes when you stopped him. “Joel, I’m sick.”

He scoffed, as if you said something absurd. “Move over,” he grunted, hogging the spot next to you and getting underneath the covers.

He crossed his arms and closed his eyes.

“I kinda miss this you know,” you whispered. Because even though you were wrapped in his jacket he gave you a few days ago, in which he insisted you wear because your blanket was too thin, it just wasn’t the same.

He made a noise in agreement and minutes later, he was snoring.

It’s been three days since you caught a cold, hence, three days since you’ve been fully in his presence. It only occurred to you now that he didn’t stay away because he was scared of catching it, but that he spent all that time working and doing what he does best. All because of you—all for you.

All you could do was admire him as moonlight gently graced the features of his face.

When you got better, you’d give him that kiss he deserved.

[eph3merall]

. . . ( part 1 )

—

the twitch chat looks as if an explosion went off with how fast every message was coming and going by, reading along the lines of 'YO WHATT', 'MATT???', 'WTF'.

before you know it your eyes are shutting harshly, hands gripping matt's thighs as you feel ropes of cum paint your throat in hot white spurts. you can't see his expression, but can clearly make one out in your mind. face a little flushed, mouth slightly open to exhale a sharp breath and eyes wide.

his hand is fisting your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulling your head up and off his dick, and you decide to just be a tease as your tongue sticks out to reveal the sticky spurts of cum. matt is shooting you one glance down before clearing his throat at the stream and making up some dumb, shitty excuse. meanwhile his hand is cupping your cheek, patting it a few times to signal you to swallow.

"sorry chat, just bumped my fuckin' toe. think i'm gonna end stream for tonight though," and soon the twitch chat is filled with endless streams of 'aw's and 'bye's. the excuse was actually laughable, terrible to say the least. bumped his toe? yeah, okay. didn't seem like he was groaning because it hurt.

matt's thumb strokes your cheek once he's sure you've swallowed, leaning back in his gaming chair to read out a few more gifts from the viewers. throwing up a peace sign and waving, he's then saying a 'goodbye' to the chat.

and then the stream goes offline—a huff sounding from the figure in the chair. your eyes search his face, his gaze dropping down to yours to roll his eyes and shoot you an annoyed glare.

"can't believe you jus' made me do that. are you fuckin' dumb, kid?" his tone turns all scolding and frustrated, matt's free hand reaching down to tangle into your hair—his other following suit to yank your head back. "fuckin' brat. actin' like you can just—get away with that shit.." a scoff follows and his hands are traveling down from your hair to yank you out from the bottom of his desk.

pulling you up to take a seat in his lap, his hand grips your cheeks and shakes your head around, lips pulled into an 'o' shape from his ringed fingers. the sound of the wheels on his gaming chair scrape against the floorboards as he pushes himself away from his desk. his hands find place on your hips, lifting you up as a yelp sounded from your mouth to shove you into his bed.

matt is impatiently tugging his sweats down some more to give himself extra room, muttering under his breath out of annoyance. his sweater goes next, and he can't help but know that the next time he streams, he is in for quite a field day. especially with how the fans act, matt knows he'll find clips of what happened all the fucking time on every social media app he has.

"such a fucking slut— couldn't even wait til' the end of stream. jus', just had to embarrass me n' shit. bet you're wet, huh? soaking through your panties right now, baby?" rough hands are manhandling you into whatever position he desires—one reaching down to shove your face into his pillows. a pathetic mewl is sounding from you, muffled however from the plush material when you feel him rub a thumb over your covered cunt after peeling your pants off.

you can barely hear the chuckle reverberating from matt through the ringing in your ears, thighs twitching and hips attempting to buck in an effort for more friction. matt can't be that mean though, can he? with how good you look face down, ass up, his dick is twitching and growing hard again.

you hear him sigh out a breath all dramatic-like, tongue clicking against his teeth as he shifts your panties to the side. twitching a little at the cold of his rings, a pitiful whine gets muffled from the pillow as you feel him tap his tip against your cunt.

"jeesus— y'look real good right now, ya'know?" were the words matt uttered before shoving all of himself deep inside of you, his hips meeting your ass as he chuckled. unforgiving hands find placement on your hips, gripping tight as he pulls back just to shove all of his dick back inside with one deep thrust of his hips.

a chorus of groans and mewls sound from the two of you, bouncing off the walls of matt's room as he works your cunt to his own pleasure, a hand snaking between your thighs to rub at your clit. you feel his bare chest press slowly against your back, lips suddenly right next to your ear. his voice is deep and a little strangled, whispering a bunch of dirty shit to you.

your orgasm comes crashing into you hard and fast, matt only huffing and continuing his restless thrusts. "gimme another.. one more, baby— 'm so close."

sorry this is definitely not my best work... :/

—

©eph3merall 2024

[reiding-writing]

Hiii, I absolutely loved immortal it was adorable! I was wondering if I could request a fluff fic w Gn!reader where when Spencer goes to the swing set after the whole thing with Cat at the restaurant reader also goes there maybe to read a book and it's a whole meet cute kinda thing cause it's one of his favorite authors or smth? sry for the long request I was trying to be specific Imao

swinging [s.r]

Summary:

You attempt to find your usual late night escape in the empty play park late one evening after an argument with your boyfriend, instead you find a handsome stranger that you find oddly endearing.

WARNINGS: shitty boyfriend (not spencer obviously)

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: fluff (kinda hurt/comfort)

wc: 1.5k

masterlist!!

a/n: i am reuploading this once and once only so if it doesn’t upload to the tags again then i am giving up-

“It’s a little late for a play date don’t you think?”

Your comment clearly catches the boy in front of you off guard, his head shooting upwards and his eyes wide like he was in a state of fight or flight.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” You take a second to admire the man in front of you through your apology.

His hair was fluffy, bordering curly, and long enough that it was getting caught in his eyelashes as he blinked up at you.

His eyes were big, round, and practically glistening in the warm lighting of the lamp post to your left.

He was dressed in a finely pressed black suit fit with a baby blue shirt and a lilac tie that made him look like he’d walked right out of one of those rom-coms where the male lead is a prolific billionaire.

He was gorgeous.

“I came here to wallow in my own self-pity but it looks like you beat me to it,” You can’t help but chuckle softly at your own explanation. “Do you mind?”

You gesture towards the swing besides his with a book held in your left hand and a soft expression, as if to silently tell the beautiful stranger in front of you that if he wanted to be alone that you would feel any offense.

“Uh- yeah- no- no, go ahead,” You don’t even try to suppress the smile that creeps its way onto your face at the way he stumbles over his words, and you take a seat on the swing next to him with a chuckled “Thank you,” as you turn your head down to the open book in your lap, just illuminated enough under the lamp post so you can read the words on the pages.

Any distinguishing factors, including the book’s title were unceremoniously hidden from view as it blends into the night’s shadows, effectively halting curious effort of the boy next to you to figure out what it is.

Of course, it doesn’t take long for you to feel his lingering gaze, and you follow it down to the novel in your hands before you show off the cover in his direction.

Paramenides by Plato.

“Have you read it?”

Your voice stops his psychoanalysis of your literature choices as he turns his eyes back up towards your face again.

“I have actually,” He nods softly at you with a pursed, slightly awkward smile, the contours of his cheek bones perfectly captured in the dim lighting. “I read it when I was doing my Philosophy degree.”

“No kidding-“ You let out a small laugh in surprise at the fact the cute stranger encroaching on your usual pity party venue just so happened to have a degree in Philosophy.

He also just so happened to have an absolutely beautiful laugh, the sound like a song in your ear as he joins you in laughing about the absurdity of the odds that the two of you both had a keen interest in philosophy.

“So, what brings you out here so late then?” You seem to lose interest in your book as the two of you make eye contact, shutting it in your lap as you turn your shoulders towards him. “No, wait, let me guess, shitty date?”

The boy lets out a breath that could almost constitute as laugh, averting his eyes from you and leaning towards slightly to awkwardly run his hands over his legs. “Something like that-”

You give him a sympathetic smile and a nod. “Don’t let it ruin your perception of romance, it’ll work out in the end,”

The boy’s eyes turn up towards you once more as you speak, and your smile becomes a little more awkward as he meets your gaze once more.

“You don’t look like you believe yourself…” His words leaving you blinking softly in his direction, facial expression full of confusion.“Your relationship isn’t going very well at the moment is it?”

Your expression morphs at his question and he immediately backtracks, waving his hands around as he tries to pull back the conversation.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t- I’m-” He takes a sharp breath in through his nose before attempting to actually speak a full sentence to you. “I’m a uh profi- A behavioural analyst- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable i’m so sorry-“

“No it’s alright,” It was your turn to awkwardly drag your hands down your legs now, fingers curling over the edge of your book as you reach it and fiddle with the metal plating on one of the corners of the cover. “You’re not wrong,”

You can practically see the curiosity in his eyes as you confirm his suspicion. “Is that why you’re here?”

You can hear the cautiousness in his tone as he presses you further, clearly scared about crossing a line, “You said you came here to ‘wallow in self-pity’ earlier…”

You can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of your earlier statement as he repeats it back to you. “We uh, had an argument,”

You play it off as something insignificant, but you can tell that he doesn’t believe you and soon end up finding yourself spilling the entirety of your relationship problems to someone you’ve never met before.

“He has this best friend that he’s like weirdly close to and he stood me up on a movie night we were supposed to have so they could go out together instead-“ You sigh exasperatedly as you replay the nights events in your head.

“I called him to ask where he was and it spun into him yelling at me for ‘not respecting’ his friendship because they’ve been friends longer than we’ve been dating, it’s stupid really-“

“That’s not stupid at all,” He shakes his head determinedly at you. “He’s not respecting your relationship, i’m sorry you have to deal with that,”

You can’t help but feel minorly guilty for making a stranger feel bad for you, but you give him a soft “Thank you,” nonetheless.

You unfortunately don’t have time to continue your conversation as your phone buzzes with a message from your boyfriend telling you that you have to go home to your shared apartment.

With a sigh you pick yourself up from the swing, clutching your book underneath your arm.

“Well, it was nice to meet you…” You trail of the sentence with indication for him to fill in the space with his name.

“Dr. Reid- Spencer Reid- Spencer- I’m Spencer....”

You can see the flush spread across his cheeks and over his nose as he stumbles out his name.

“I enjoyed speaking with you Spencer,” You give the cute stranger, Spencer, a soft smile as you prepare yourself to leave, hands stuffed in your pockets.

“I enjoyed speaking to you too,” He returns your smile with one of his own, albeit one that’s slightly more awkward, and you can see his mouth fall open again as if he was going to say something else, but his words fall short.

“Good night,” Your stopped in your walk home almost before it even starts as Spencer calls after you with a new found confidence.

“Wait-“ His voice echoes through the empty play park, and you turn around to meet his glistening gaze once more. “Am I- going to see you again?”

His half-awkward demeanour was oddly charming, eliciting a soft smile that spreads to your eyes.

“I like to read here sometimes, bring a book with you and maybe we can read together…”

Spencer smiles at your indirect invitation to see him here again in the future, and he nods softly at your answer, standing from the swing he was sat on to mirror you. “I’d like that,”

“Good,” You give him another soft smile that joined by a slight tilt of your head. “I’ll see you soon then..”

“Yeah…” Spencer stays stood as he watches you leave to go home, mind running at a million miles a minute as his brain fully comprehends what just happened.

You’re already out of sight before he realises that he forgot to ask for your name.

[ddejavvu]

MEI MEI MEI can i request Anakin headlocking reader with his hot hot sexy thick biceps as hes fucking reader from behind OHMYGOD bonus points if its in front of the mirror and he bends her head and back so much he can kiss her upside down from behind IDK IF The human body is that flexible BUT NGHHHHH ive been thinking about this ALL week everyday 24/7 THANKYOUUUU❤️❤️❤️

thank you arm kink indy for giving me your blessing to write this when i was scared it would be too similar to your post

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Sex with Anakin is a wrestling match. A rather one-sided one, too, for all the fight that you put up. You've expressed time and time again that Anakin can do whatever he wants with you; you've begged him to take you however he pleases, but he still moves like you're his opponent and you're about to deck him hard in the jaw.

Air escapes your lungs in a weak grunt, an 'mmf-!' when Anakin's body weight pins you to the mattress. The springs beneath you bounce you back up, but Anakin's broad, muscled chest is there to stop you, and you find yourself effectively smothered. His hips are already rutting against your ass, cock dragging against its undercurve as he teases you with the feather-light nudge of its tip against your clit. You feel him grind against your slit, pseudo-sex that makes your cunt ache for real penetration.

"Ani," You mewl, words futile in persuading him to take pity on you, "Please, please, I need you inside of me, please, e-enough teasing."

"E-enough teasing," He mimics, voice pitched up and laced with bawdy desperation that you're mortified he saw in your own. He spits the words into the dip of your shoulders, lips trailing up your spine and teeth latching into your shoulder. You gasp at the bite, whine at his cruel teasing, but he's not finished, lips poised beside your ear to lecture you on proper decorum.

"You think you're in charge? Think you get to boss me around, baby?"

His words are terribly, wonderfully demeaning, and delicious shame curls beneath your belly as his weight keeps you helplessly pinned to the mattress. You're at his mercy, and it's making your core throb with want.

"No, I- that's not what I meant," You plead your case, but at another sharp bite from Anakin, this time along the base of your neck, you yelp and correct yourself, "I just need you, Anakin! Please!"

You're not sure if the slick mess between your thighs is solely your own doing, or if Anakin is smearing sticky precum over you as he ruts against your slit, but you're thoroughly soaked, and you feel yourself clenching around nothing but air at the thought of Anakin's cock filling your hole. You desperately press your ass further out, silently begging for Anakin to take pity on you and finally fuck his dick into your cunt, but your efforts are fruitless.

Instead of rewarding you with the thick circumference of his achingly hard cock, Anakin shows you an even larger width - that of his bicep. You see it beneath your chin as it wraps around your throat, and if you'd managed to suck any oxygen into your lungs since he'd pinned you down, it's gone now.

It's so thick that it forces your head up, your neck angled awkwardly to accommodate the arm now pressing tightly against your throat. It means that if he surges forwards while simultaneously pulling you towards him, he can reach your face, and he sticks a wet, sloppy kiss to your parted lips. It's less-than-romantic, but it's arousing, and that's all that matters to you right now.

"Look at yourself," Anakin gestures to the mirror hung on the wall across from your bed, most frequently used for checking your outfit and taking suggestive photos. You glance up at it with your eyes watering, not only from the ache of being empty but from the tight pressure of Anakin's arm around your neck, and you find yourself a sight to behold. Your hair is mussed, your lips swollen and slick with spit, your body pinned hopelessly beneath Anakin's. You're a mess, and Anakin has no problem in jostling you in his grip to exacerbate it. He's still humping against the curve of your ass, but he's no longer letting his cock drag through your slit, and you're desperate to get as much as you can from him.

"Does that look like someone who's in charge?" He asks, eyes boring into your own through the mirror, "Does that look like someone who calls the shots?"

"No," You gush pathetically on an exhale, dragging in oxygen much slower due to Anakin's partial closure of your windpipe, "No, I'm- I'm sorry, Ani, I didn't mean that."

"Good," He grunts, flexing the muscles in his biceps to lift your chin even higher. He does the rest with his face, nudging your head backwards with his chin until he can reach the wet ring of your lips. It's different now, agony on your neck as he's tipped you backwards instead of kissing you from the side, but there's something disgustingly hot about the way that his tongue slides over yours that makes you shudder with anticipation.

He licks over your tongue and latches onto your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth to nip at. When it's red and stinging he releases it, sucking up the drool that's sliding down your tongue. It's probably from his own mouth, but it's mixed with your saliva now, and he's happy to lap at it.

"Relax," He croons, voice kinder now that you're pliant and open for him to lick at. The word echoes in your mouth and you feel another shiver of pleasure run down your spine as he grinds against your ass, "I know what you want, baby, just let me give it to you."

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: the picture on the right is michal mrazik who i edited to look like jason so i’d appreciate it if u didn’t use it. WARNINGS: f!reader | dom!jason | daddy kink | size difference | sexual content | objectification | degradation.

Something about DADDY!JASON TODD just makes you wanna sit in his lap and babble while he basically ignores you until he registers you as a hole to fuck. You're yapping to him and he's pinching the hem of your skirt to lift it for a peek.

"Uh-huh," he replies absentmindedly, complete devoid of care to hear whatever you're talking his ear off about. He tucks his hands under your arms to pick you up and readjust you so you're straddling him, you still haven't taken a breath. "Yeah," he tells you, poorly feigned interest, and you eat it up, adding to your enthusiasm. You don't even notice how you stand on your knees over him, and he's keeping his eyes on his crotch. Tonguing his lower lip, he shifts his hips forward, and the sound of his belt unbuckling alerts you.

Innocently quizzical, you ask, "Daddy, what are you doing?"

He has yet to meet your gaze, giving you one shake of his head, a clear indicator to pay him no mind. "Nothing, princess, keep talking." A subtle crease in his brow forms, and a soft expel of air from his pursed lips sound as he tugs down his waistband. You do as he asks, and continue on with your little monologue complete with endearing anecdotes lost on your audience because he's too busy roughly handling you. Yanking you closer to him, you're used to it and undeterred. Your skirt fans out around his crotch, and his massive hand on your thigh draws you forward as he cranes his neck to peer over you. He fists his cock, now free and standing at attention.

He lines it up, and he locks eyes with you while you're still talking. The reward of his eye contact shoots you up with an impulse to engage him, "Can you believe that?" Mistaking his attention for interest. There's a little curl to his lips because as endearing as your mistake is, the only reason he's holding your gaze is to see your eyes light up when his swollen tip starts clumsily thumbing your cunt. You gasp at the sensation, you're not allowed to wear panties around him for this very reason: to stay accessible. You shouldn't be surprised, but the pleasant sensation of how it nudges you makes you freeze to let it roam.

Jason rolls his tongue between his lips, a sense of pride blooming in his chest and on his expression as he squeezes your thigh in affirmation. Painfully, his brutish head bats against your clit, and he controls your squirming with a harsh hand on your arm at the crook of your elbow. Once you get it through your head he wants you still, he flips up your skirt so he can glance down, tilting his head to see yours and his parts playing with each other. He admires it, biting down on the skin past his lip. Only then does he recognize you've quieted. "What's wrong, babygirl, why'd you stop?"

“It... hurts, Jay."

“D'aw, won’t hurt forever.” he says in an upbeat manner, encouraging you to push through it. It barely constitutes as fake sympathy as he raises his hips to sink further in you and you wince, a little whimper emitting. As he hollows you out, a wetter sound each time he pulls out and plunges a few inches in, your eyes squeeze shut. A huge hand cups the back of your neck, commanding your attention with a sore pinch. He looks into your gaze again, carefully and deliberately choosing when to do it, like he's choosing when to make you feel like a human instead of a sex object. “Where’s my brave girl, huh? Can you be brave for me?” winded from effort, he's husky voice sends a shiver down your spine. Eager to please him, you give him a little pitiful nod, and he bucks his hips again. “So fucking tight, baby. How old are you again? Swear I took your virginity already.” He’s fucking with you. He’s fucked you every which way to Sunday but you still stupidly play along.

"You did, Jay, you did!" you insist, and he's more than halfway in now.

"Yeah? I did, didn't I? Only 'cause you do dumb shit like this. Isn't that right?" With every thrust, a grunt spills from his nose, and you resist the urge to grind down on him and introduce yourself to too much.

"I don't mean to, daddy, m'sorry." you weep, eyes downcast as he fucks up into you. He finally sheathes, and you cry out, clutching onto his arms to brace.

"Running your little mouth in a skirt like this, bare pussy sittin' on me. The fuck is up with that? Sex dolls can't speak."

[heavenlyvision]

After hell freezes over

Word count: 16k

Pairing: Bi-Han x F!Reader

This part four to my 'When hell freezes over' series, read the other parts first, linked below :3

part one, part two, part three

A/N: This got way out of hand guys, I am so sorry. Thank you so much for your patience and kindness while waiting for this update !!! I love and appreciate you all so much!!! Also: LONGEST FIC!!!!

Summary:  The cat’s out the bag, everyone knows, and now you have to have a very awkward conversation and Bi-Han isn’t around to help. When he gets back, you try to offer him space to open up to you, but you have to do the same in return. Bi-Han makes you keep your word.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, angst (iddy bit), soft!Bi-Han (like so soft almost ooc), mean!Bi-Han, return of Jealous!Bi-Han, (minor) handjob, face sitting, face riding, man handling, p in v sex, squirting, clit slapping, titty play, no use of y/n, I think that’s all <33

Sore doesn’t even begin to describe how your body feels today, if you thought your muscles were achy the day before then you don’t know how to explain what this feeling is. Everything is heavy, but a satisfactory kind of heaviness. The kind where you’re so sore that just laying completely still feels like you’re about to ascend into heaven.

When you wake in the morning and reach out beside you, you find the bed empty, Bi-Han’s absence making the room feel so much larger. Your heart pangs a bit at the realisation, he didn’t even wake you. That, and he still hasn’t changed your bed sheets.

Rubbing at your eyes, you try to sit upright, body aching in protest. He certainly succeeded in his goal, there is no way you can train today, not in this condition. You rest your back against the beds headboard, considering if you really need to get out of bed yet or not.

The fact that you’re still naked is one of your biggest motivations for possibly moving. Just as you decide you should get out of bed, Bi-Han slides the door of your room open and slips inside, he’s making an effort to be quiet. But as he turns around to look at you, he notices your sitting form.

“You’re up,” he states.

“Very observant of you.” You have a bothered expression on your face.

Waking up alone after expecting him to still be here has upset you, which is even more annoying, because he is not obligated to stay. The sway he has over your feelings confounds you, he is one man, and yet, so much more.

“Are you… annoyed with me?” He asks cautiously.

“No.”

He raises a brow at you, “It seems like you are.”

You huff out a sigh, “I’m trying really hard to not be, because the reason is ridiculous.”

“And what is the reason?”

“When I woke up, you were gone.” You feel pitiful but you can’t help how you feel, and he makes you feel vulnerable.

His lips turn up into an amused smile, “That’s really cute.”

You frown at him, you aren’t trying to be cute, “I don’t like it.”

“Don’t like what?” He asks.

“How much I want to wake up to you in the mornings.”

His mouth twists, like he’s trying not to laugh, “Sweet girl,” he moves around the foot of the bed to stand beside you, “I went to get you some coffee.”

He lifts one of the two cups towards you, the cups you didn’t realise he was holding.

You pout a bit, feeling bad about being upset now, “That’s really thoughtful… thank you.”

Reaching for the cup, you hold it in two hands, enjoying the warmth it’s giving you. Bi-Han sits on the edge of the bed facing you. He’s watching you drink your coffee with kind eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into the lip of the mug.

He smiles into his own mug, “Don’t apologise for that,” he considers his words while he sips at his own drink, when he’s pulled away, he places the mug on the table beside your bed.

He continues to speak, “It is nice to know that you want me here with you.”

You tell him, “I always want you.”

He’s silent as he looks into your eyes, searching. You aren’t sure what he’s looking for but you’re starting to regret your words, maybe you shouldn’t have said that. Maybe he doesn’t feel the same. Your propensity for being honest possibly biting you in the ass. It isn’t the first time you’ve regretted your words as soon as you’ve spoken them.

But even though you sometimes regret your words, you always mean them. Which is why Bi-Han sitting stoically in front of you and not replying is making you feel… exposed, emotionally.

Bi-Han’s hand moves to pluck your mug from your hands, and then he places it next to his own on the side table. His action confuses you, are you being punished in a really specific and odd way? You look up at him, bewilderment clear on your face.

And then he’s suddenly grabbing you and pulling you into his lap, wrapping you up in his arms. His lips pressing soft and quick kisses to your face, on your cheeks, lips, anywhere he can get to. His unexpected display of affection drags joyful giggles from you.

“Stop, stop,” you’re still laughing as you protest against him.

He does eventually pull back from you and when he does you ask, “What was that for?”

“Felt like it.” Is all he says in return.

His feelings for you run deep but his actions speak louder than words. Last night showed you that he is not eloquent in speaking his feelings, it frustrates him how he can’t seem to find the right words, but he tries and when he can’t verbalise them, he shows you. And that’s enough for you right now.

You shake your head in disbelief, “Can you put me back down, my muscles are not agreeing with movement today.”

A large, arrogant smile grows on his face at this information, “No training today?”

“Try not to gloat so much,” you bop him on the nose with one of your fingers.

“Not gonna make that promise,” he replies as he moves you back onto the bed.

His eyes trail over your bare skin, looking at all the hickeys he left behind last night. You cover yourself with the bed sheets, he is not allowed to be horny again, he might break you.

You shoot him with a pointed look, “Stop it.”

His eyes look back into yours, “I am not doing anything.”

“Mhmm,” you hum back at him.

Moving from the bed, he gets up and pulls out a shirt and some underwear for you. He places them down on the bed in front of you.

“Thank you,” you say.

He grunts in response, he’s about to turn away but your hand shoots out and tugs at his, pulling him down. When he’s close enough, you lean up to him, taking his lips in a sweet kiss. One he happily accepts, his hand coming up to gently hold the side of your face. You go to end the kiss, but he pulls your face forward, reconnecting your lips for just a moment longer.

When the kiss does end, it’s on his terms. Standing to his full height again, he moves across your room and shuffles through your belongings.

“What are you looking for?”

He continues looking inside drawers, “Sheets, I said I would change yours.”

“Linen cupboard, next to the bathroom door.”

He grunts in acknowledgement; you take the hint and move off the bed. Grabbing the clothes and heading into the bathroom, while in there you decide to shower quickly, rinsing off the prior nights activities.

When you exit the bathroom, you notice that Bi-Han has changed the sheets for you, “Thank you for changing them.”

“I don’t know why you bothered, probably gonna ruin them again soon anyways,” he shrugs at you from his position on the bed.

You shake your head at him vehemently, “Nah ah, I need to heal, or you will break me.”

He rolls his eyes at you, like you’re being so dramatic, but you’re genuinely concerned for your physical wellbeing.

Bi-Han is sitting with his back against the headboard, legs spread out length wise on the mattress. As you approach the bed you climb over to him, straddling him and hugging his upper half. His arms come around behind you, holding you close.

“This is just cruel you know,” he huffs into the top of your head.

“I don’t know what you mean, I just want a hug.”

“Mm but I can feel the warmth of your cu–”

Cutting him off you say, “–You are insatiable, truly.”

“Your fault, truly.” He retorts.

You press your face into his chest, resting your forehead against it. Your body is fully relaxed against him, savouring the closeness and enjoying the intimate moment. You think Bi-Han gives the best hugs, his embrace holds you perfectly, always making you feel so secure.

Moving your head to the side so your cheek rests on his chest, you say, “How am I going to get out of training?”

“Tell the truth,” he shrugs.

“That is an awful idea, and you know it.”

“Well, whatever you decide, it will have to be soon.”

“Not helpful,” you complain.

You can’t see it, but you just know he’s rolled his eyes at you again, “Tell them you wanna meditate or some shit, whatever it is you spend hours doing at that rock.”

“That is helpful, albeit rude,” his idea isn’t a bad one though, you could just sit at the rock, Liu Kang doesn’t mind when you train like that.

His chest rumbles with an amused sound at your complaint of his rudeness.

“Before I forget, I have a mission to go on with Kuai Liang and Tomas, I will be gone for a few days,” he mentions it flippantly.

His attitude towards telling you irks you a bit, you look him in the eyes, chin resting on his chest again, “If you ever manage to forget to tell me something like that, I will hunt you down just to give you the silent treatment.”

He has an entertained smile on his face, “Then, I will always tell you when I have to leave.”

“Good,” you state, pressing a kiss to his chest before laying back down.

You end up falling back to sleep, laying against his body. You don’t get much more sleep, unfortunately having to start the day but you appreciate the extra half an hour you do manage to get. Especially since when you do wake up, Bi-Han is still holding you.

❆˖°

You’ve not run into anyone today; you sought out Liu Kang to inform him of your decision to meditate today and then came straight to the rock. Despite actively avoiding everyone, the turtleneck you wore yesterday has made a secondary appearance today, hiding the additional hickeys bestowed upon your skin. It’s hot when Bi-Han gives you them but people seeing them is so insanely embarrassing. One wouldn’t be that bad, but you have like 20 on you right now.

The pure volume of them is what has you hiding your body, it wouldn’t even matter if everyone knew you were with Bi-Han. The idea of them seeing visual evidence of how you practically let him do to you as he pleases in the bedroom would have you dying on the spot from mortification. But, you digress, hopefully they will heal while Bi-Han is gone, and you’ll be able to stop dressing in long necked shirts. Which seems feasible until you remember that he’s probably just going to mark you up even more when he comes back. Whatever, this is a problem for future you.

Right now, you should be focusing on your breathing, which is easy enough, you didn’t realise how much you’ve missed your enlightenment rock. It gives you the space to breathe and reconnect with nature, feeling the energy move through you. Time always manages to slip away from you when you come here, too engrossed in the way you feel, the things you can sense. The Earth speaking to you, it’s soothing.

Footsteps can be felt on the Earth behind you, and then you feel Bi-Han’s eyes on you. His presence has you smiling to yourself, but you don’t move, waiting for him to come to you. Which, he does, walking around you and standing directly in front of the rock.

Your lack of a response has him huffing out, “I know you know I am here. You always know.”

“And don’t you forget it,” you retort, smiling up at him now.

His face is stoic, but his tone is gentle, “I have to leave now, we should be back in a few days, maybe less.”

“Be safe,” you tell him.

The thought of not seeing him for a few days dampens your mood, you’ve been growing accustomed to his presence. You feel like he just left on a mission for Liu Kang, but you understand he is an important man with commitments he has to attend to. You’re just some girl he likes.

“Mmm, I’ll try,” he shrugs in response to your request.

You frown in disapproval at him, “Not funny.”

His attitude is dismissive, “I’ll be fine.”

“When you come back, I have something I want to show you.”

“And what’s that?” His expression turns suggestive.

Your roll your eyes at him, “Nothing like that.”

You go to lightly smack him on the chest, but he catches your hand in the air. Stopping it from making contact. His hand drops yours, both of his coming up to hold your face in his hands. His eyes look intently into your own, his really pretty eyes. You practically melt for him in his hands.

Your expression makes him smile fondly at you, “So sweet on me.” He observes.

“I’ll stop.” You threaten, you don’t need the attentive commentary on your feelings, it makes you feel open.

It makes you feel seen, the horrible ordeal of being known and all that. It’s attention you are not accustomed to.

“Don’t you dare.” He hums, looking at you, eyes sparkling as they flit over your face, your neck; he won’t say it but he’s sweet on you too. Maybe more than you are on him.

You want to retort back again, keep the back and forth going. Hoping to prolong this conversation, prolong being in his presence but he’s leaning down to you. His hands still holding your face between them, he immediately deepens the kiss. Tongue in your mouth, he’s insistent but not forceful. He kisses you with the force of all his feelings, telling you everything you need to know without him having to speak a word.

Your own hands grab onto his forearms, you’re letting him kiss you how he needs. He’s taking what he needs, and it has you sighing into his mouth. His lips always, always overwhelming you. One of his hands goes from your face and pulls at your sitting waist, trying to move you closer to him.

Arms looping around his neck and holding on, your body stretching up. Both Bi-Han’s hands hold onto your hips, as he pulls you into him. Lips never pulling apart for more than a second, he’s holding you to him now. You’re no longer sitting and instead pressed to him, arms wrapped around his neck, his own arms holding you up. Your feet are not even touching the ground, he’s holding you up effortlessly, keeping your mouth level to his.

His kisses are fatal, and full, and when he pulls his lips away, he rests his forehead against yours. You’re breathless, both of you are. And you’re trying to savour the moment, you rest your head on his shoulder, hugging him to you. He accepts the embrace and holds you tightly.

He speaks softly, “I’ll go anywhere you want, when I am back.”

You hum against him, “thank you.”

And then he’s leaving, taking Kuai and Tomas with him. You were his one and only stop before going.

You’ll miss him.

❆˖°

That evening at dinner isn’t the same, Bi-Han never offered much in the way of conversation, but it feels significantly quieter without him. He may not have spoken much, but his presence always said plenty.

Usually something like, “shut up, don’t talk to me.” or “don’t look at me, I don’t like any of you.”

It’s funny how much he puts up with you, when you think if anyone else mildly annoyed him, his instinctual response would be to punch them. Though, he isn’t sleeping with anyone else here.

Dinner is also quieter without Tomas and Kuai, at least verbally. They offered more words than Bi-Han, you find their differences interesting, they’re brothers and were raised together but something was different for each of them. There is so much that you want to know about Bi-Han, but he has a sad way about him, not obviously. Outwardly he comes across as angry, but underneath you feel a sadness and you wonder why. It’s something you want to ask him about but isn’t something you should ask about, some things can only be offered, not taken.

You’re deep in thought when your eyes catch on Raiden’s, he notices you coming back from your thoughts and offers a polite smile, one you return.

“You okay?” He asks.

“Yup,” you nod at him.

This group makes you happy, you’ve never had much in the way of friends, so suddenly having a group of them is nice. Though, having people who care about you is an odd feeling, that’s not to say you haven’t had people care about you before, it’s just that in the past it’s been conditional or surface level. This isn’t that, everyone here is so genuine to you and sometimes it stuns you.

You’re pulled from your thoughts again, “What’s that, sugar?” Johnny asks from beside you.

You don’t know what he’s referring to, you turn to look at him, expression confused, “I don’t know?”

His smile is evil, his finger comes up and presses into a point on your skin, where your jaw meets your neck, just below your ear. Your blood runs cold and one of your hands comes up to cover it.

“It’s nothing,” your eyes are wide as you shake your head at him, silently begging him for discretion.

Johnny either doesn’t catch on or doesn’t care, “I know a hickey when I see one!”

Noises erupt from everyone at the table, Raiden chokes on his food across from you.

“What the hell, Johnny!” you huff at him.

You take it back; Johnny is the exception to the group and no longer a friend. His grin is large and mimics the Cheshire cat.

“Who gave you a hickey?!” Kung Lao yells out from next to Raiden.

You sigh deeply, of course this happens when Bi-Han is gone.

“Wait… is that why you weren’t at training today?” Kenshi asks from the other side of you.

He caught on quick, how annoying of him.

You’re holding your head in your hands, shaking it in exasperation. What did this night turn into.

When you look up again, you’re very obviously embarrassed, face contorted with your discomfort. The guys don’t notice, they’re all looking around the table, trying to find out who you’ve been sleeping with.

“This is none of our business,” Liu Kang interrupts, trying to be the voice of reason, but by the look he gives you, you can tell he wants you to tell him who you’re sleeping with. Such a gossip.

They ignore Liu Kang, and once they’ve determined it’s none of them, “OH MY GOD, it’s one of the brothers!” Johnny exclaims.

“Oh, well then obviously, it’s the scary one,” Kung Lao says.

You’ve still not said anything, you wouldn’t even know what to say. Bi-Han literally just left a few hours ago and now everything is out, because of him. You didn’t even know there was a hickey there, he would’ve seen it before he left too and just kept it to himself bastard.

“He does stare at her a lot,” Raiden notes, joining in.

“Et tu, Brute?” You complain.

He looks at you sheepishly, feeling bad.

Johnny’s hand comes out and shakes your shoulder, swaying you, “Is that why he looked like he wanted to kill me yesterday?”

There isn’t any point in denying… but you’re going to try anyways, “I don’t know what you guys are on about, you’ve all come to your own conclusions.”

You have a horrible poker face right now, being put on blast has you so embarrassed that any lie that you try to tell falls flat. Your attempt falls on deaf hears, they all shoot you a dubious look, even Liu Kang looks like he doesn’t believe you.

“I mean, he was especially murderous yesterday, he stares at you a lot, he went to say goodbye to you earlier.” Kenshi points out.

“How did you know he came to see me?” You ask, you wouldn’t think Bi-Han would tell anyone about that.

“I didn’t,” Kenshi has a supressed smile on lips, if he had fully smiled, it’d probably look as evil as Johnny’s. He’s proud of himself for catching you.

“Oh sugar, I am so sorry, you’ve just told on yourself,” Johnny’s hand is still on your shoulder, and he rocks you again.

You sigh and roll your eyes before smacking Johnny’s hand off you, “Not nice, Kenshi.”

“I am sorry,” he certainly does not look sorry, he acts better than Johnny but he’s just as bad.

Kung Lao interjects, “Okay, wait, for how long have you guys been,” he makes weird motions with his hands trying to finish what he means without saying it.

Lucky for him Johnny says it, “How long have you guys been fucking?”

“Johnny! Have some decorum,” Liu Kang chastises him.

Everyone else looks to you, all eyes on you, waiting for an answer to Johnny’s very invasive question.

You look up to the ceiling, hoping it might fall in on you and you can avoid all of this.

Raiden speaks to you gently, “You do not have to tell us anything if you are uncomfortable–”

“–Screw that! You have to tell us, he’s so… mean and you’re so… not!” Johnny interrupts.

“It’s been over a week, not long.” You say honestly, answering them will move this along quicker.

“Over a whole week, and no one noticed?” Kenshi says.

You clear your throat, “Well, Kuai knows.”

“You told him and not us!” Johnny is offended, “You aren’t closer to him than me, what the hell?”

“It wasn’t about choosing to tell him.” You shuffle in your seat, uncomfortable.

Kung Lao catches onto what you mean first, his eyes wide, “OH MY GOD,” he exclaims.

Raiden taps him, “what, what?” Kung Lao leans into him and whispers his suspicions to him, Raiden’s eyes also grow wide.

Liu Kang is shaking his head side to side from the head of the table, he knew immediately what you meant, he just doesn’t want to make this experience worse for you.

Kenshi and Johnny share a look around you for a few moments before their facial expressions also grow shocked when they catch on.

Johnny looks back at you, a hand over his mouth and one pointing at you, he’s being way more dramatic than necessary. But it’s what makes it so fun for him, the dramatics of an actor.

“You didn’t tell Kuai… he heard!”

“Yes, thank you for verbalising that, Johnny,” you sigh out.

Everyone is silent before he starts to let out stifled laughter, it’s apparently contagious because they all start laughing together. Everyone but Liu Kang but you know he’s enjoying this, his eyes bright and amused.

What a bunch of schoolboys, “Oh my god! Grow up!”

The laughter dies out slowly, “I can’t believe you guys, we are not friends anymore,” you pout out, “Especially you,” you target Johnny.

His hands raise up, “Hey! Why me specifically?”

“For not keeping your mouth shut.” You cross your arms over your chest.

Johnny’s smile grows even larger, if that’s possible, “Why are you wearing that turtleneck, sugar?”

You snarl at him, “I think you know why, sugar.”

Gasps comes from Raiden and Kung Lao.

Kenshi speaks next, “Jesus, did he maul you?”

Your head falls to your shoulder in a show of your own dramatics, “He might as well have.” You pick your head back up quickly, “It was Johnny’s fault!”

“How is it my fault?” His voice is offended, a hand falls on his chest.

“You flirted with me, it made him jealous,” you shrug.

Johnny pleads his case, “That wasn’t my fault! You’re hot and had your thighs either side of my head!”

“Don’t say that in front of him,” you tell Johnny sincerely, if Bi-han was here you’d genuinely be concerned for Johnny’s safety, “He already wants you dead.”

Johnny is flabbergasted, “HUUUH?”

“He actually isn’t happy with… any of you, not that he ever is,” you say.

“He tells you how he feels?” Liu Kang asks.

“He tries,” you nod.

Kenshi adds, “and he gets jealous?”

“Very,” you nod again.

“Dude, he LIKES you,” Johnny concludes, proud of himself.

“I know,” okay, you find this really funny, they think they’ve discovered something that you didn’t know, “He told me.”

“And?” Kung Lao probes.

“And, I like him too, which he also already knows,” you raise an eyebrow. You think they’re having a hard time grasping the fact that he talks to you and has told you how he feels.

“Woah, you guys have like… a full secret relationship,” Johnny remarks.

You confirm, it isn’t labelled but, “I guess so, pretty much.”

“I am stuck on him liking someone,” Kung Lao jests.

The comment pulls a smile from you because it is funny that of all people, he likes you.

“I mean at all, not just romantically,” He adds.

A chuckle comes from you at his addition.

“Well, I mean… if he was going to like someone it’s no wonder it’s her,” Kenshi says.

“That’s true,” Johnny replies.

They’re all nodding their heads in agreement; it’s making you feel bashful, “Okay, we can still be friends, since you all like me so much,” you say in a joking manner.

“Nice!” Johnny rejoices, to which they all join in the celebration. Their stupidity makes you laugh, you’re very fond of them all.

“He didn’t want anyone to know,” you tell them.

“Maybe he shouldn’t have assaulted your skin then,” Kenshi shrugs.

You decide to be a little bit mean; you turn to Kenshi and look him dead in the eyes, “You have no idea how bad it is,” you’re mostly joking but also yes, it is that bad.

Kenshi’s eyes get wide, and he tints pink as he understands the weight behind your words. It’s an amusing sight.

Johnny also catches your implication, “Holy shit–”

“–Are you going to tell him we know about the two of you, when he gets back?” Raiden cuts off Johnny, changing the subject, which you’re thankful for.

You shrug at him, “I’ll have to, I can’t lie to him, he always knows.”

“How cute,” Johnny has a sickening sweet lilt to his voice, mocking you.

You roll your eyes at him and push his shoulder, jostling him, “watch it Hollywood, you’re on thin ice right now.”

Tonight, has been, a lot, you couldn’t foresee this coming, but at least it wasn’t as bad as you thought it was going to be.

“Is he freaky in bed?” Johnny leans closer to you to ask, trying to be discrete; everyone hears him anyhow.

You take back your earlier statement; Johnny is making this about as bad as you thought he would.

Raiden rolls his eyes at Johnny, having saved the conversation from this direction only for Johnny to swivel right back around and hit you with this question.

You ask him, “Do you want me to answer honestly? Or are you just ribbing me?” You genuinely can’t tell.

“Of course, I want the truth,” he scoffs.

You pause, you don’t know what to say, “he’s hot.” You decide to be dismissive.

“Oh c’mon, that’s boring, I want something juicy!” Johnny whinges.

“It’s hot, he’s good…” You trail off, remembering how verbal Bi-Han is in bed, how much he talks to you, how much you enjoy it, you miss him.

Johnny boos at your non-descript detailing of your sex life.

“Johnny, go get laid,” you tell him.

A chorus of ‘oooooh’ erupts from the guys, rubbing your teasing comment in Johnny’s face.

“You all know far too much now anyways, any more information you want, you can risk your lives asking Bi-Han for.” You shut down all further questioning for the night.

You’re putting up a brave front but them asking Bi-Han directly will result in one of two ways, one: he kills them on the spot, or two: he gives far too much detail, happy to explain how well he fucks you, hoping to deter them from wanting you. It’s like the marks he left behind, they’re a sign of ownership, and you’re sure his words would reflect the same kind of intent. Especially after he got so jealous the other day. You’re just hoping Bi-Han’s aura is too threatening for them to even attempt at asking him something like that.

You aren’t sure if you should be concerned about everyone finding out or not, Bi-Han wasn’t exactly trying his hardest to keep your relationship on the downlow, but you also know he probably doesn’t want people to know.

Cause like he said, ‘two things can be true at once’.

❆˖°

The past couple days have been gruelling, the nonstop teasing from mostly Johnny but also all of them has been, exhausting. It isn’t particularly upsetting but it is almost constant, this is why you wanted to keep it secret. Not because of any grander reason, but because these guys are unbearable sometimes and you spend almost every day, all day with them.

Right now, you’re all having a break from training, standing in the open courtyard, you were all having a nice conversation but of course the subject of you and Bi-Han always comes back up. It’s like the go to topic when conversation dies down now.

Johnny is whinging again, “Come on, give us something! Or does he just lay there silently?”

He is pressing you about your sex life again, weirdly invested in the dynamics.

You shake your head at him, “Johnny I don’t know what makes you think I would give you explicit details about my sex life, it’s not any of your business.”

You really wish Bi-Han were here, dealing with this on your own is very difficult, you imagine it would be easier to cope if he were beside you. They should all be back later today, possibly the evening, you just have to field the questions until then.

“It’s a weird dynamic and I can’t picture it!” He is still pushing it.

“Why would you want to?” You ask him.

He’s being very dramatic, “Because it’s odd! Like a car crash you can’t look away from”

“Not comparable Johnny!” What the hell, your sex life with Bi-Han is not like a car crash.

“No but it’s like…” He’s clicking his fingers together trying to remember the term he is searching for, “morbid curiosity!” He snaps in finality, pointing at you.

You shake your head and groan, “Most people who experience that are also polite enough to not ask, be more like Raiden,” you point at Raiden, he’s standing across from you, he’s been very polite and not bombarded you with inappropriate questions.

You add, “Curiosity killed the cat.”

“Ah yes, but satisfaction brought it back,” Johnny concludes, his smile smug.

You stand there silently; you’ve decided to just ignore him now. Which of course, does not work, he is now poking at your side, repeating your name over and over.

“Come on, just a crumb of detail!” He huffs out at you before suddenly going quiet.

They’re all quiet and you know why, Bi-Han is behind you. You can feel his presence, looming over you from behind, he’s not looking at you. You assume he is shooting the others a killer glare.

“She is a sweet little thing in bed,” Bi-Han adds, his tone humourless, he’s pissed.

You gasp at his statement and turn around to him, you slap him on the chest lightly, “What the hell Bi-Han?!”

You look up at him with an angry expression, he’s still looking at the group behind you. His face as stoic as usual, his tone was angry, but his expression is blasé. He’s daring them to ask him more, he will answer and that’s a threat.

You look back at everyone, none of them want to talk, all a bit red in the face. They’re uncomfortable and shooting dirty looks at Johnny, who is looking away to the sky with an innocent expression on his face.

Spinning back round you look up at Bi-Han again and this time he looks down to you, his gaze immediately softening at the sight of you. He leans down and hugs you, one you accept because you missed him, even though he just made it difficult for your friends to look you in the eyes.

When he pulls back you go to turn around and apologise to the guys, but Bi-Han has other plans, he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, walking away with you.

You go to protest, “Hey! Wait–”

“–No,” he says, simply.

You can see the guys as you’re carried away, Johnny holds two thumbs up and has a huge smile on his face. You point at him, your gaze burning as you look directly into his eyes. Making a promise to get back at him for being so annoying and nosy.

As you walk through the grounds, you walk past Kuai, Tomas and Liu Kang, Bi-Han doesn’t stop walking, completely ignoring them.

“Hey guys, glad you’re back safe,” you say waving at them as you’re carried past.

Tomas has a confused look on his face as he waves back at you. Kuai’s expression a disapproving one, his brother continues to exasperate him, and Liu Kang just looks, exhausted.

You’re carried back to Bi-Han’s room, and once you’re inside he places you on the floor gently. Gaining your footing and stretching once you’re standing again.

You tell Bi-Han, “That wasn’t necessary, I would’ve come with you willingly.”

He changes the topic, “So they all know.”

You look as guilty as you feel, “Yes…” You say, Bi-Han gives you a stern look, but you continue, “…but actually, it’s your fault because they saw one of the hickeys you left!” You point an accusatory finger at him.

His face morphs into an expression of pride, wolfish smile present on his lips, “Good.”

“No, no, not good, and you know, it occurs to me that you would have seen it before you left and said nothing!” You point out to him.

“And if I did?” He shrugs at you, face dropping into a serious expression.

“No… mmm, no…,” you’re struggling to think of a punishment, there is only really one thing you can punish him with, “No sex!”

He’s quick to answer, “Okay, then I did not see it.”

His expression is definite, you know he’s pleased with himself, but he’s keeping his poker face on.

Your hands land on your hips, disapproving of his attitude, “Is this what you wanted?”

He looks upwards and to the side, pretending to think, “I can’t say I am particularly torn up about it.”

“You have no idea the torment I’ve had to put up with,” you sigh out.

He considers your words for a second, “Want me to kill them?”

“NO!” He knows you do not want that.

He smiles affectionately at you, “I am sorry I wasn’t here with you.”

“You should be,” you pout at him, you’re a little miffed with him right now.

And he knows which is why he hits you where you’re soft for him, “I missed you, sweet girl.”

You want to tell him you missed him too, but you don’t, instead you huff out, “I doubt it.”

He moves to you as he speaks, “Missed you, made sure we finished as quick as possible, just so I could see you again.” When he reaches you, he holds your head in his hands, his eyes soft as he looks into yours, “did you miss me?”

He’s trapped you, “Of course I missed you,” your response is mumbled out, begrudged with yourself for giving in so easily.

He smiles at you warmly, you look up at him, “Still annoyed with you though.”

He rolls his eyes playfully at you, “I am sure I can fix that.”

Leaning down he presses a single kiss to your lips; one you don’t return. He’s still holding your face in his hands, your own hanging limply at your sides. He grunts in disapproval at your lack of response.

“Kiss me back,” he demands.

You shake your head in response.

He huffs out an annoyed breath, “You’re not being very polite, missed you so much and you won’t even kiss me.” Your heart pulls in your chest and you almost give in.

He leans down and kisses you again, and again, and again. He keeps kissing you until you sigh against him, he takes the opportunity to enter his tongue into your mouth, finally able to kiss you properly. Your hands instinctually come up for something to hold onto, grabbing at the material of his shirt.

His own hands moving from your face down to your thighs, he picks you up and you gasp against his lips. Your inner thighs resting on his hips, your arms holding onto each other from behind his neck, the sudden shift shocked you and you’re holding tightly onto Bi-Han for balance.

“Relax, sweet girl, I’ve got you,” he nuzzles at the side of your face, inhaling your scent.

You take his lips back in yours, he turns the kiss dirty immediately. Tongue in your mouth, taking your breath away. He walks you both to the wall, and your back rests against it. His mouth never leaves yours, savouring the way you’re kissing him, enjoying the small sounds he’s pulling from you. His kisses are insistent, showing you just how much he missed you.

When he pulls away, it’s to look at your face, he’s taking in all your features and taking pride at the look in your eyes. It’s the same expression you always have when he kisses you, so soft for him, gooey eyed. His kisses take all thoughts from you, the only thought you have is his lips on your own.

“Ah there she is, my sweet girl, the one who’s so polite to me,” he hums, nosing at the skin of your cheek.

“Don’t be mean, not after kissing me like that,” you reply.

He laughs lightly and goes to place you back on your feet, but you cling to him, wanting a hug. He lets you hang on, but he sighs out in faux annoyance. You tuck your head under his, resting your forehead against him.

You mumble into his chest, “Still annoyed that you left me here to deal with them all.”

“Probably for the best, you are more patient than I.”

“Would’ve been nice to have you here, I was super embarrassed,” you shake your head into his chest.

“My offer to kill them still stands,” he’s joking, mostly.

Pulling your face from his chest, you laugh in response, “No, thank you.” It’s quiet for a moment, and then you remember, “I still have something I want to show you.”

He looks at you with a suggestive look on his face, “and what’s that?”

“Nothing like that,” you frown at him, he knows already, he’s just trying to get a rise out of you.

He chuckles at you and pecks your lips, “Show me later? After lunch?”

“Sounds good,” you smile at him.

His eyes glint with mischief, “There is something I would like to see right now,” he remarks, moving to the bed and laying you down on it. He’s on top of you, straddling your outer thighs, keeping you still underneath him.

“Bi-Han, do we really have time for this?” You ask, not completely upset with where this is heading.

He smirks at you, “I do.”

And then he’s pulling your shirt off, a gasp pulled from you as his head dips to leave more marks on your chest, lips trailing to your breasts. He sucks harshly against your soft skin, nibbling at the tissue on your breasts. He takes a nipple into his mouth and flicks it with his tongue, the stimulation has you whimpering, chest rising towards him in response.

His large hands grip you, holding your ribcage still as he works at your nipple, he parts from you, making a popping noise as he does.

“Got perfect tits, missed them,” he hums, moving to your other breast.

His mouth is cold, you think he’s doing it purposefully. Either way, its enhances the pleasure he’s giving you. One of his hands grabs at your other breast, fondling it, tugging at the nipple. The moans that want to escape are being held back only by sheer will, which is slowly falling away.

Pulling back, he sits up a bit, looking at your rapidly rising and falling chest. His eyes holding anything but pure thoughts, both of his hands grope at your tits, he’s toying with you. Enjoying your growing need for him, you go to say something about it, but his fingers start pulling at both your nipples, it has you sighing a moan and forgetting what you wanted to say in the first place.

He’s proud of himself, rendering you speechless just from the way he plays with your tits, and if he wasn’t touching you in such a divine way, you just might curse him out about it.

“Such a pretty little thing,” he coos at you.

“We have to go to lu–hah–nch,” you gasp out.

“In a moment,” he says.

It’s going to be more than a moment and you know it, just based off the almost feral look on his face, and by the way one of his hands leaves your chest to travel down your body. Cupping your pussy over your pants, he massages you before spreading your pussy lips to rub at your clit through the material of your pants. You squirm at the stimulation, huffing out quiet whimpers as he rubs at you.

He's about to say something, probably something obscene but it’s cut off by a knock on his door. A voice follows it, “Lunch is ready,” it’s Kuai’s voice, he sounds… weary.

Bi-Han rolls his eyes, you know he’s going to say something nasty so you cut in over him, “Thank you, Kuai, we will be there in a moment.” You keep your eyes locked with Bi-Han as you say it.

Kuai hums his acknowledgement and walks away.

You go to sit up, but Bi-Han places a hand on your sternum and pushes you back down, “Hold on, wanna look at you for a moment more.”

His words make your heart jump, but you tell him, “You can look at me plenty, later.”

Groaning, he pulls you up and off the bed, you smile up at him. Standing on your tippy toes, you give him a kiss and he hums into it.

“Watch it, I’ll keep you here.” He warns.

You giggle a little at his threat, it doesn’t feel intimidating at all, it makes you feel hot. Everything he does increases your temperature; it really is ironic considering.

He reaches for your discarded shirt, and you hold your arms up in the air, waiting for him pull it over your head. Instead, he stands there, holding your shirt and staring at your tits. Sighing at him you give him a ‘really?’ look. He does ultimately put your shirt back on you, he’s careful when he does. Not wanting to be too rough as he redresses you. It has you feeling weak for him, he’s always so careful with you, in little ways.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” he groans out, not looking forward to eating with everyone. He’d much rather stay here and have his way with you.

Taking his hand in yours, you both walk to the eating area together.

❆˖°

Lunch is… awkward. Everyone is side eyeing you and Bi-Han, he sat down beside you today. He doesn’t usually sit next to you, but now that everyone knows, he did. That introduced issues with the seating though, not the first ones to be fair. But Johnny and Kenshi aren’t allowed to sit either next to or in front of each other anymore, on account of their arguments that turn into kicking under the table.

So, Johnny is in his assigned seat next to you and Kenshi usually sits on your other side, but now he is sitting next to Bi-han. You can tell Bi-Han is unhappy with this, on all fronts, but mostly that Johnny is next to you. Though, if Johnny were to sit next to Bi-Han, you’d worry he’d say something to get bodily harmed, so you argued to keep him next to you. Furthering Bi-Han’s hatred for Johnny, but making Johnny feel special, which was not your intention.

But that is how you end up feeling very uncomfortable, the table is tense, and everyone is sharing looks with each other.

“Am I missing something?” Tomas says.

Oh God, no one has told Tomas, Johnny chokes back laughs beside you and you shoot him a look, telling him that he is specifically not allowed to tell him.

“We’re fucking,” Bi-Han says, motioning between the two of you.

Tomas has a shocked expression on his face, tinging pink as makes eye contact with you.

You have to take a deep controlled breath, your eye twitches with annoyance. Maybe it was better that Bi-Han wasn’t here the other night.

Head snapping to the side, you look at him, your expression one of pure anger, why would he say it like that? And why would he say it like that to Tomas???

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t find anything wrong with what he said, “have been for a couple weeks.” Bi-Han looks up for a second, thinking, “in the courtyard, my room, her room..”

“Shut up, Bi-Han!” You say it in a hushed and urgent tone.

Johnny is trying so hard not to laugh but he finds what Bi-Han said so ridiculous and out of character that he can’t help but crack up.

Doing some more controlled breathing, you sit completely still and calmly say, “Johnny, if you don’t stop laughing, I am going to hit you.”

“Stop warning people, puts you at a disadvantage,” Bi-Han tells you, completely unbothered. You don’t think he realises he’s in trouble.

“I appreciated the warning,” Johnny interjects.

Ignoring the both of them, you attempt to control your blood pressure, how is this worse than the other night?

“Is that a comment from experience, Bi-Han?” Kuai asks.

Bi-Han looks at him, he doesn’t answer but his silence says plenty. Kuai looks amused at this development, finding it funny you tried to punch Bi-Han but gave him a warning first.

Kenshi adds to the conversation, “He’s right, if you actually want to land a hit, no warning.” He tells you.

“But that’s not nice, I don’t actually want to hurt someone,” you huff out. You give warnings for a reason, to give them a chance to correct the behaviour.

Bi-Han smirks beside you and says quietly, “sweet.”

Your lips downturn at Bi-Han, he’s made this much more messy.

“Was I the only one that didn’t know?” Tomas asks.

“Yes,” Bi-Han says, he continues to eat his lunch.

You tell Bi-Han, “You aren’t allowed to talk anymore,” Before addressing everyone, “I will talk, you will all listen.”

Everyone sits quietly, waiting for you, “Bi-Han and I like each other, we have been… together for almost a couple weeks now, I am not going to share intimate details of our sex lives,” you shoot Johnny and Bi-Han incriminating glances, “Tomas you are last to know, Kuai found out first and the others found out while you were gone.”

Tomas looks at Kuai, offended that he didn’t tell him about you and Bi-Han, you’d feel bad, but it wasn’t really any of their businesses anyhow. The only person you felt bad for was Kuai and that’s because he heard the two of you.

“We are adults, so I think we can all accept this and move on, yes?” You ask.

As you look around the table, they all share their agreeance, all except Bi-Han, who is still completely unbothered, eating lunch.

Liu Kang looks like he feels bad for you, “Your relationship is between the two of you, we will not pry any further,” he says very gently, trying to salvage the situation.  

“Yes, we are all sorry for being invasive,” Kung Lao says, very pointedly targeting Johnny with his tone.

“Don’t fault me for being curious! It’s an odd dynamic,” Johnny argues.

“It is not any of our business,” Raiden adds.

Bi-Han looks Johnny dead in the eyes, “She lets me do what I want, and she enjoys it, creams ar–”

“Bi-Han!” You cut him off, your face on fire. He looks at you, you have a very strained smile on your face as you say, “stop. talking.”

His eyes widen slightly, realising he’s upset you; he goes to speak more.

“No,” you say simply, shutting down further conversation. Your lunch has been finished and so you stand up abruptly, “Don’t follow me.” You tell him as you walk away.

Everything is silent as you leave, no one daring to talk.

Your plans for this evening have been ruined, you had something to show Bi-Han and you really aren’t in the head space for it now. In all honesty, you might be overreacting, but it doesn’t change how you feel right now, you need a moment to calm yourself.

❆˖°

Leaving the dining area has you feeling better, your skin felt like it was on fire. From both embarrassment and anger. You don’t know what was wrong with Bi-Han to be so upfront, the first time Kuai asked about your sex life he almost bit his head off and he didn’t even outright ask.

Now he is willing to tell everyone far more details – too many details. You need an hour or so, to process everything and calm down. Bi-Han knows how embarrassed you can get so it was unkind of him to be so blunt in front of everyone. The only thing you can think of is that he seemed a little on edge, maybe that’s why he said it the way he did but then why take it out on you?

The result is the same though, you’re upset with him. It was already uncomfortable for you, and you wanted him to help. It didn’t even seem like he tried to help, jumping straight to the nuclear option.

Going back to your room isn’t an option, you told him not to follow you, but you know he’ll be looking for you anyways. The first place he’ll look will be your room, then enlightenment rock, and probably most of the grounds. You decide to go somewhere he doesn’t know about, it’s a flower field that’s dead, has been all winter, the cold killing them and causing them to wilt.  

It’s where you wanted to bring him, but you decide to go there now, knowing it will take him a while to find you here. Biding your time, because talking to him right now won’t go well… for you. Talking things out directly after they’ve happened never ends well for you because if you haven’t had time to decompress, to get perspective, you might become overly defensive, or mean. And the last thing you want is to be mean to Bi-Han, not if he doesn’t deserve it.  

So, you sit in the middle of this flower field, allowing yourself to breathe in the air. What has happened, has already happened and you can’t undo it. But when you are ready you can talk to Bi-Han and try to understand how he was feeling in that moment. Sometimes you hate this about yourself, but you always think about the why. Why did he feel the need to say that, why did he choose that moment to say that, why doesn’t he seem to care, even though it embarrassed you.

Opening your eyes, you take in the flower field; it must have been so vibrant when it was blooming. It would’ve looked so, so alive. The beauty of nature and how flourishing it can look, how vivacious naturally occurring colours can be.

It never ceases to amaze you, when you think of how – just like people, nature needs the right environment to truly bloom and share its beauty with the world. You think Bi-Han is like a flower field, no one sees how beautiful he is, they don’t give him the right circumstances. But in small moments together, when you compliment him, or look at him with the most softest gaze, he blooms for you, and it is magnificent.

It takes him about an hour, but he does find you. You can’t tell if he’s pissed or relieved when he sees you. He walks right up to you, where you’re sitting in the middle of the flower field.

“I have been looking everywhere for you,” he says, straining himself to stay calm. Not wanting to worsen his situation.

“I know, I have been waiting for you,” you tell him, and then you pat the ground beside you, wanting him to sit.

He sighs but he sits down beside you anyways, “Why are you waiting for me in the middle of a dead field?”

“It’s what I wanted you to see,” you don’t look at him.

He’s looking at you though, intently, “Why would I want to look at a dead flower field?”

You smile to yourself, because yeah, who would want to look at a dead flower field. No one cares when the flowers are already dead, but when the time comes back around, this field will be gorgeous, and people will care then.

You ignore his question, instead asking him your own, “Bi-Han, you were rude tonight, and you embarrassed me, in front of my friends, why?”

“I… don’t really know, I was in a… bad mood and answered thoughtlessly, my intention wasn’t to embarrass you,” he’s struggling to tell you how he felt, this isn’t the type of confrontation he’s used to.

“It wasn’t your intent, but it was a consequence of your actions,” you tell him how it is. Sometimes people don’t mean to hurt you but that doesn’t change the fact that they did.

There is only one thing he offer you right now and he knows it, but you don’t really know if he’s capable of it. You think if this was anyone else, you wouldn’t hold their hand through this, but you don’t think Bi-Han is used to trying to make things better after he messes up. That and you think it could’ve been worse.

So, you ask him, “Why were you in a bad mood, Bi-Han?”

“I was… jealous, again,” he looks to the sky before continuing, “that Cage, he already pissed me off the other day by flirting with you, and then his invasive questioning of our sex life, and then he gets to sit beside you at the table, after being a little–”

“–Okay I can see that this is more of a culminative thing, rather than just earlier,” you gather pretty quickly he still isn’t really over what happened and everything else is just adding fuel to the fire.

You can understand his annoyance with Johnny, because you’ve been annoyed with Johnny, you just haven’t had the chance to properly ask him to stop, but you know if you do, he will. You’re going to have to prioritise talking with Johnny but that’s not to say all the blame is on him, Bi-Han still messed up out of jealousy.

“Tomas didn’t deserve being told like that,” you say, gently. You feel bad for Tomas, stuck in the crosshairs of Bi-Han’s anger.

He grunts at you, not agreeing but not willing to argue with you over it.

You sit beside him silently, giving him time to figure out what to say next. You can understand, kind of, how he is feeling.

He sighs beside you, “Will you look at me… please?” He asks tentatively.

Turning to look at him in the eyes you can see he does seem to feel bad about letting his anger get ahead of him.

“I misspoke and I am sorry,” it’s all he says, but it’s all you really need.

You don’t need him to overexplain himself, it undoes an apology in a way, trying to argue for yourself rather than just coping to your mistake.

“It’s not okay, but I understand,” you reply.

You both sit in silence again, you decide to break it with a joke, “You didn’t kill them, did you?”

He hums, “No, but I considered it.” He’s also joking, you think.

His hand moves slightly closer to you, you think he wants to touch you but is worried you’ll pull away. Shuffling your body closer to him, you take his hand in yours. He relaxes slightly at the contact.

“What did you want to show me?” He’s curious now.

You smile up at him, “If I show you this, you have to tell me something about yourself, it can be anything, but something no one else knows.”

He seems a bit hesitant, “Better be worth it.”

Letting go of his hand you adjust yourself so you’re sitting on your knees, turning to Bi-Han you see he’s watching you, “Don’t watch me, watch the flowers.”

He rolls his eyes, “There aren’t any flowers.”

“Just – watch,” you remark.

He huffs but looks out to the field, you turn forward again and place your hands on the ground. You focus your energy on the field, breathing slowly, you hear nothing – feel nothing. The field is dead, but as you release your feelings into the ground through your hands, you can hear the flowers sing to you as they come back to life.

Colours blooming all around you, the flowers standing tall as you thaw the Earth and allow the flowers to flourish. The sounds and feelings of the Earth coming back to life run through you, the afternoon sun hanging low in the sky falling on your face.

After the whole field is back to its most vibrant form, you sit back and look out at it. It’s not something you’ve attempted to do before, not on a large scale like this. You’ve brought back house plants and listened to the way the Earth hums, but you’ve never tried to bring back a dead field.

Looking over at Bi-Han, you see he’s looking out to the field, stunned at all the flowers you brought back in one go. You’ve not shown or really told anyone about your ability, only Liu Kang knows, and you didn’t exactly tell him. You don’t tend to tell people because it’s not something you feel is especially helpful in combat. Not like fire, or ice, you’re in tune with nature, you feel a deep connection to it, but it doesn’t go much further than that, as far as you can tell anyways.

“It’s beautiful,” Bi-Han says.

You ask, “Is it worth it?”

“Yes,” he has a small smile on his face as he turns to look at you.

Motioning for you to come closer, you move from where you are sitting and crawl over to him, flowers brushing against your skin as you do.

When you’re within reach he pulls you down to him and hugs you to his chest. You fall into his lap sideways, your legs over to one side as you sit on him, you look up at him but he’s looking out to the field. You tuck your head under his chin, ear resting against his chest. His arms are wrapped around you, holding you close as you sit on his lap.

He sighs from above you before speaking, “I trained hardest, out of Kuai Liang and Tomas… I was the eldest and next in line for Grandmaster… and I was pushed harder, given less leeway by my father. And I hold resentment towards them all, because I didn’t get the same experiences as them, I was being forged into the Lin Kuei’s weapon. They were children first and… they had each other.”

That’s the sadness you knew was there, the loss of a childhood, of brotherly connection, of any connection. This isn’t something you can relate to; you don’t know how to help him with this.

“I want to help… how can I help you?” You ask him, pulling back to look him in the eyes.

One of his hands cups your cheek, holding you tenderly, “You have been, you being beside me helps plenty.”

You lean into his hand, enjoying his touch.

He speaks, asking you, “Now you tell me something no one else knows.”

“I already showed you,” a small smile is present on your lips.

He isn’t satisfied with that, and you knew he wouldn’t be, “Doesn’t count.”

You huff out, “Mmm let me think.”

Leaning your head back on his chest, you ponder for a moment on what you could share with him.

“Sometimes, I worry that I am useless… like even when I try to be helpful, whether it be through my actions, insight, advice, anything… that it is not helpful. And I worry that I am only worthy of taking up space if I can be of service…” You pause for a moment before finishing, “I feel undeserving of the space I take up.” You bare your soul to him, because you truly feel that you’re not allowed to exist if you can’t offer anything in return.

His embrace tightens around you a fraction, “You are so useful, sweet girl and even if you weren’t, I’d want you all the same.”

His words effect you deeper than you would have expected them to, you tear up slightly at the affirmation that he wants you, useful or not. You tuck your head into his chest further, rubbing your eyes on his shirt to get rid of your tears before they fall.

Both of his hands pull your head back, looking into your teary eyes. His expression is so soft for you, filled with so much kindness, an expression you wouldn’t have thought him capable of a couple weeks ago.

“Sweet, sweet girl, my sweet girl,” he hums out, before leaning in and kissing you.

It’s a tender thing, he has no ulterior motives behind it, he just wants to gently kiss you. Wants to be connected to you. You accept the kiss, letting him do with you as he pleases, your mind filling with nothing but thoughts of how soft his lips are. How kind he is to you, how much you would be willing to sacrifice for him. Oh yeah, he’s stuck with you now, you think.

When you part from each other, he lays down on his back, taking you with him. You’re both laying on a bed of flowers, you roll off him and instead tuck into his side, he rolls to his side too, so he can look at you.

You tell him, “I think you’re a lot like this flower field, it’s why I wanted to show it to you.”

“And how exactly am I like a flower field,” he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Because, you’re beautiful when you bloom,” you say it with no shame, meaning every word spoken.

He looks a little flush in the face at your words, “kind words will get you into my bed.” He changes the subject.

You laugh at him but complain, “I have more questions.”

His head rolls back in an overdramatic way, he groans as he does, “Fine.”

“Favourite colour?” You ask.

“Blue,” he says.

You look doubtful of his answer, “Really?”

“Yes, what’s yours?” He turns the question on you.

Smiling at him you say, “The brown of your eyes.”

You’re mostly teasing him, but you also can’t think of any colour prettier than the colour of his eyes right now. The way the sun is setting is lighting his eyes up into a beautiful, honeyed brown and you think you could fall into them and die happy.

He rolls his eyes at you, “Flatterer.” He shakes his head at you, “Next question.”

“Mmm, who’s the smartest person you’ve ever met?”

He thinks on it for a moment, his face telling you that he doesn’t think he’s met any smart people, before his expression shifts as he has an answer, “My mother.”

That’s really sweet of him you think, he’s a mama’s boy.

“How about you?” He asks.

“Me,” you say, big smile on your face.

“What a cop out.” He complains but his eyes are alight with an amused look.

“I am asking the next question,” he says.

“Go ahead.”

You’re happy he’s actually getting invested in this little game, this is something you’ve wanted for a while now. Getting to know him is some of the most fun you’ve had in a while.

He considers what to ask, not realising how difficult it is to pick a question to ask off the top of your head, he eventually settles on, “What is your favourite feeling?”

“Oh, easy, earlier when I brought the field back it was silent because the flowers were dead but when I brought them back, it’s like they sing and the singing of life itself is beautiful.” You answer him enthusiastically.

You think about it for a moment more and decide to be very open, “And, when you look at me, it sends a shiver down my spine… that I’ve grown to enjoy.” The confession has you feeling bashful.

“That’s cute,” he pinches your cheek before the hand trails down your body and lands on your hip, gripping you there, “My favourite feeling is your tight little cunt wrapped around–”

“–Oh my god, do you think about anything else?” You exasperate.

His laugh is distracted as he shrugs at you, “Sometimes.”

You change the subject and ask him another question, “Favourite place?”

“Next to you… or inside you,” he changes the subject right back.

You groan at him and push him off his side and flat onto his back. He chuckles as he’s falling back.

The rest of the afternoon is spent together in that flower field, talking with each other and recounting old memories. Talking about anything and everything as the sun goes down. You think that this will always be one of your favourite memories, even if it did start with you being pissed off with him.

❆˖°

When you both return, you part ways, Bi-Han has to speak with Liu Kang and have a proper debrief about the mission. You on the other hand, want to shower and clean off the dirt and pollen on your clothes. Bi-Han promised to come to your room when he was done though.

On the way back to your room you, mercifully, don’t run into anyone and make it back without your mood being ruined.

The shower is such a welcome delight, cleansing yourself of the day and all the difficulties that came with it is a wonderful thing to be able to do. And when you’re done, you get to pamper yourself by moisturising and putting on comfortable pjs. It isn’t often that you get to wear some of your own clothes from before you were here, so it’s always nice when you get the chance to.

It’s also a bonus that you packed a matching set, ironically, it’s blue – you wonder if Bi-Han will notice or care. It’s very cute that his favourite colour is blue, something that you think, yeah is obvious but you didn’t know if he wore blue because of the Lin Kuei, his aesthetic, or if he liked it. Having him answer questions has given you some clarity and insight into him as a person and you feel so giddy about it.

You fiddle around your room, tidying away some of your belongings. Cleaning up the small messes that have been built up over the course of a few days. You’re stuffing around with some trinkets when there’s a knock on the door, it startles you and you fumble with the small jewellery box you’re holding, it falls onto the ground in front of the dresser.

You answer who you assume is Bi-Han first, “Come in,” you call out before ducking down to the ground.

On your hands and knees, picking up some of the jewellery that had scattered on the floor, you notice an earring slipped under the dresser and you arch your back, bending down further to reach under and get it, as your face gets closer to the ground to look, you realise a ring has slipped under further than the earring.

You can hear the door slip open and closed from behind you, “Are you kidding me?” Bi-Han groans out from behind you.

You hum in question at him, grasping the earring and then attempting to get a hold of the ring, it’s just barely out of reach.

Bi-Han comes closer, standing directly behind you, watching you struggle to reach the ring, “Great view,” he comments.

Ignoring him, you arch forward a tiny bit more and he whistles at you from behind, you roll your eyes at him and then your annoyance is replaced with a feeling of victory as you finally get the bloody thing out from under the dresser.

Sitting back up you lean on your knees, holding the two small pieces of jewellery up in triumph, you pack all of the spilt trinkets back into their box and stand up, placing it back on the dresser.

As you turn around, you’re met with the sight of Bi-Han in his night robe, his hair down, he seemingly has also just showered. Not to be overly dramatic but, you might die just from looking at him.

“Hello,” you say sweetly, enamoured by the sight of him.

He shakes his head at you, “Get everything from under there? Or is there more?”

“That was all of it,” you tell him.

He hums in disapproval, “That’s a shame.”

“How was the debriefing?” You ask, curious.

His expression turns annoyed, “Mmm, it was fine, rather not have gone, it was a waste of my time.”

“You think everything is a waste of time,” you jab.

He quips back, “Not true, you aren’t a waste of my time.”

“Flatterer.”

His expression turns mischievous, “And where will flattery get me?”

“Everywhere,” you give him an innocent smile, it doesn’t match the implications of your statement.

Moving closer to you, he grabs your hips, admiring the blue pyjamas you’re wearing, “You look good in blue, should wear it more.”

“I don’t own much blue,” you comment.

He shakes his head, “We’ll have to change that.”

Reaching up your wrap your arms around his neck, you want to kiss him but he’s out of reach and you’re stretched as far as you can go. He’s purposefully not leaning down, staying out of reach. It makes you pout at him.

“What? What’s wrong now?” He asks you, playing dumb.

“Will you kiss me, please?”

His head tips to the side, pretending to have to think about it, “Mmm, okay, since you asked all pretty like.”

He leans down and kisses you, effortlessly picking you up as he does. With his hold on your hips, he carries you over to the bed. When he reaches it, he turns around, so his back is facing it, he leans down and places your feet back on the floor. He continues to kiss you, it’s filthy, his tongue in your mouth, licking at you, his teeth nibbling at your lips. You gasp against his mouth as his hands come around and grope at your ass cheeks, holding handfuls of it.

Pulling back, he whispers against your lips, “I haven’t forgotten, you’re sitting on my face, sweetie.”

Your insides twist at his statement, you’ve never sat on anyone’s face before, you’re a little nervous about it. You want to protest but his hand slips inside your shorts to grip your bare ass, and he realises.

“No panties?” He asks.

You hum, “I didn’t ah, think they would be necessary?”

“Should’ve just been completely naked and waiting for me then,” he remarks.

“Thought you might like the blue.”

He groans in response, “and I do, but I’d like it better on the floor.”

He pulls his hair back into a bun as he speaks. The small act of him tying his hair back makes your desire for him grow.

Once he’s tied his hair back, he’s harshly tugging your shorts down, they slip down your legs effortlessly with the force he pulls them down with. You don’t get time to react properly, because he’s picking you up and chucking you down on the bed. A breath is pulled from your chest as you land on it, Bi-Han is crawling over top of you, he presses a tender kiss to your lips and then he’s manhandling you again. Rolling onto his back and pulling you on top of him as he does.

You’re straddling him in this position and he’s flat on his back. You understand now, he tied his hair back, so your knees don’t pull on it. You’re apprehensive, making no moves forward, much to Bi-Han’s dismay.

He grabs your thighs and tugs you all the way to his face, “Bi-Han – wait!”

A deep groan of protest is pulled from his chest, but he stops moving you, your cunt sitting so close to his face but not close enough for him reach, also to his dismay.

He has to put in a lot of effort to tear his gaze away from your wet pussy, “What’s wrong?” He huffs.

“I’ve never done this before,” you feel timid at your admission.

“Mhmm, thas fine, I’ll take care of you, just sit on my face and let me tongue fuck you. It’ll be good, promise.”

His words serve to set your face on fire rather than any comfort he may have meant them as. But his hands slowly stroke your thighs in a comforting manner, trying to get you to relax for him.

“’Kay, Mm ready,” you mumble out.

“’Atta girl,” He taps your thighs, letting you move this time.

Gently, you travel the rest of the way forward, your cunt right above his mouth, he doesn’t take his eyes off you. Appreciating the view, it makes you bashful, the way his gaze devours you whole, eyes filled with lust.

“Sit down,” he guides.

You lower yourself slightly, not sitting on him, scared to suffocate him. He let out a sound of disapproval, “Sit. All the way down.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” you protest.

“Trust me this is gonna do the opposite of that.”

You go to argue with him, “but–”

He lightly slaps your thigh at your objections, “–When I say sit on my face, I mean fucking sit on it.” He growls out at you.

You still have your reservations, but you sit down on him, it still isn’t your full weight, but your pussy is right on his waiting mouth. The feeling has a small sigh coming from your lips.

Bi-Han is growing impatient under you, and he rumbles into your cunt, he’s sick of going at your pace now. His hands wrapped around your thighs grab on and tug you down, a cry of protest is pulled from your lips but he’s stronger than you and he’s pulled you into a full sitting position on his face.

His tongue laps at you, the unfamiliar feeling has you shooting forward, hands grabbing at the headboard. Bi-Han moans out from under you, the taste of you, how wet you are, the smell of you, all adding to his own arousal.

He keeps licking at you, tongue entering your pussy hole, fucking up into you, his nose rubbing against your clit. The pleasure has you seeing stars, moans falling from your lips, ones that you aren’t particularly focused on right now. Too involved in the way Bi-Han is eating your cunt to remember to be quiet.

His hands move you back and forth, encouraging you to ride his face. Your thighs shake but you get the hang of it, starting to slowly grind back and forth on his face. The breaths coming from you are stuttered, catching on the moans and whimpers you’re letting out.

It’s loud and messy, the way Bi-Han eats you out, obscene slurping noises filling the room, your slick all over his face and between your thighs. As your hips gain more confidence, Bi-Han slips his tongue from your hole, flattening it against your cunt, letting you glide across it.

The new feeling has a particularly loud whimper pulling from your chest, he groans at the sounds your making, both your moans and the sound of your very wet cunt. This was all he could think about on the mission, and it was very distracting.

His hands stay on your thighs, helping your rock against his face and tongue. Your own hands grip the headboard tighter, your grinding speeding up, chasing your high that is right there.

Bi-Han groans into your cunt, loving the way you’re desperately humping his face. If you had any thoughts other than how good the pleasure feels, you’d be so embarrassed over how desperately you’re chasing your high. Using this beautiful man’s face to get yourself off.

His hands grab at your ass, spreading you cheeks and playing with the globes of your ass. Your moans increase in pitch and frequency, so fucking close, you just keep rutting against his tongue and nose. And when he hums and groans into your pussy again, you keel over, the force of the orgasm unexpected, a short cry pulled from your lips at the feeling.

Bi-Han encourages your grinding as you come down, licking up everything you gave him, the lewd slurping noises not stopping as he sucks at your cum. Eventually, you pull away, it has to be you that pulls away because Bi-Han would stay between your legs until the Earth imploded.

Shuffling back down his body, you sit on his lap, and he sits up, making sure you stay exactly where you are as he rests his back against the headboard, where you were just gripping. If you weren’t both so consumed by each other, you’d probably notice the light scratches your nails left in the wood.

Bi-Han has the most proud smile on his face, “perfect little cunt, always so sloppy and wet for me, could die between your legs and would die a happy man.”

You’re still a little fucked out from the orgasm he gave you, “Always say the most lewd things, Bi-Han.”

“Sue me for loving my girls pretty cunt.” He shrugs at you.

You crawl closer to him and press your chest to his, laying your head on his shoulder, “Thank you.”

He chortles at your comment, “For what?”

“Mm, good orgasm.”

“The day I don’t give you a good orgasm, kill me.” He says in the most serious tone.

You chuckle at him, he’s so silly, “Could never kill you.” You mumble against his skin, “Like you too much.”

He hums at your words, “Don’t tell me you’re already all fucked out?”

You shake your head, “Gimmie like 3 minutes.”

He huffs out an amused breath, but cradles you to him, hands stroking your back. As his hands move up and down your back, he decides he wants your top off and so he pulls it off. You let him, lifting your arms to make it easier for him.

Before you lay back against his chest, you pull his robe open to expose his chest, craving the skin-to-skin contact. You don’t notice but he’s watching you with so much affection, finding your movements adorable.

His hands hold onto your hips, giving you time to regather your faculties, but he’s growing impatient, as per usual. His hips rise slowly, mostly on their own accord, searching for your cunt. When he grinds up into you, his dick twitches in response, a groan pulling from him.

“Can’t wait any longer,” he declares.

He pulls your hips down to meet his, grinding your naked pussy into his dick, barely covered by his robe. Pulling away slightly, you untie his robe and open it properly, his cock pulsing and waiting for you.

Which you do make a comment about, “So needy, Bi-Han.”

“Don’t be a tease,” he grunts, not enjoying the switch in dynamic.

You hum out to him. Grabbing his cock, you leisurely pump it, giving him stimulation but nowhere near enough for his liking. His hand wraps around your own, tightening your grip under his, and he starts fucking into both your hands. His head tipping back against the headboard, groans and grunts slipping from his lips.

The sight is something to behold, your pussy drooling at the image of him fucking into your hand, head rolling back from the pleasure.

“Mmm, so pretty Bi-Han,” you comment, his cock jumping at the compliment, you smile to yourself at his reaction.

“Need your – ngh – creamy little – cu – nt – hah.” Words broken up by his gasps of pleasure.

You move your pussy right over his cock, his hand pulls away from yours in favour of gripping your hips, trying to hurry you along.

Your grip lets go of his dick, “Bi-Han, lemme do this,” you huff.

“Alright, jus – hurry up,” he groans.

Slipping the head inside is a whole ordeal, not having been fucked by him in a few days, you have to open yourself on his cock all over again. Moving down until you’re just taking the tip, Bi-Han sighs at the minute relief.

Your hole flutters on the tip of his cock, Bi-Han chokes at the feeling, “Ffffucken hell,” he grinds out.

You pull off him completely, before sliding back down and taking more of him. Bi-Han is biting his lip and clenching his hands into fists beside him, trying so hard to just let you do this at your own pace.

And you do take your own pace, pulling off him again but not sliding back down him, instead you lean down and spit onto the head of his dick, Bi-Han’s eyes watching you very intently. Groaning loudly when you grip him with your hand and stroke your spit up and down his length.

His cock wasn’t wet enough for you, but it is now, you reposition yourself and fuck yourself down onto him, nearly halfway. Your cunt spasming around his dick is like a gut punch to him, his self-restraint being tested in a very cruel way tonight.

Pulling up slightly, you keep him inside you, fucking yourself up and down on half of his cock, whimpers being ripped from your mouth at the way he fills you. Bi-Han has to tear his gaze away from where your pretty little cunt is sucking him in, afraid he’ll cum now, before he’s all the way inside. Not a fear he used to have but the way you grip him is so heavenly, he thinks he remembers, but then the next time he’s inside you it’s brand new again.

“Bi-Han, can you help please?” You ask, needing help getting to the hilt of him.

“Gods, fucken finally,” his voice is strained.

His hands hold onto your hips, picking your body up and down, helping you fuck down onto his cock. The way he manhandles you like a doll makes you dizzy. His grunts low in pitch as he fucks up into you, pulling you down at the same time. He’s still holding back, being as gentle as his resolve is allowing, not wanting to hurt you.

With Bi-Han’s help you take him completely, you’re sitting in his lap, taking his big cock, full to the brim of him. You slap his hands off your hips, wanting to do this yourself. He pulls his hands back, looking forward to you attempting to fuck yourself on his massive cock without his help, he knows, just like earlier, you will ask for help. Even if you have a very cute and determined look on your face right now.

Bi-Han’s hips twitch under you involuntarily, he’s needy, needs you to move, “C’mon sweetie, need yo – hah – u to move.”

“’ve never ridden someone before, gimmie a sec.”

A groan is ripped from his chest at your confession, his dick twitches inside you, loving the idea of being the first man you ride, his possessive streak making a return.

“Mm the first man you’ll ride, and I’ll be the – hah – fucken last too,” he says, grabbing your face in one hand, making you look at him.

His face makes your pussy clench around him, his eyes so needy, so possessive. The feel of your cunt makes him groan out. Hesitantly, you lift your hips upwards, leaving just the tip inside you before dropping back down all at once. It rips a moan from both you and Bi-Han, you almost go cross eyed, not expecting it to feel like that. He feels so much deeper than the other times, you feel so much fuller. Your cunt leaks around him an obscene amount, making a mess of his lap.

The absolute filth of the display makes you lightheaded, your eyes wet from pleasure and all you’ve mostly done is sit on it. Bi-Han’s ego grows tenfold at the sight of you, he’s going to make a smart-ass comment, but you lift all the way up again before dropping all at once. His moan is needy, so is yours.

You whimper as you keep that pace, slowly pulling up, leaving just the tip inside before dropping on him all at once, punching a moan out of him every time you do. All you’re really doing is working the both of you up, but you want to see if he’ll break, and he’s waiting for you to ask for his help.

Bi-Han is using every fibre of his being to hold onto his control, loving the way your face contorts as you spear yourself open on his cock. Loving your big wet eyes, you almost look like you’ll cry and it’s driving him feral.

His eye contact is so intense, you go to look away from him, but he tuts, “Ah, keep looking at me sweet girl, wanna see the moment – hah – you start crying from how good my cock fills you.”

You look back into his eyes, overwhelmed by everything. You stop your previous rhythm and instead hold him still inside you, clenching down on him. You can’t keep up that other pace, so you hold him inside you, and grind down into his pelvis, the contact on your clit has you gasping and fluttering around him.

Bi-Han’s head rolls back at the feeling, eyes going with it, his hips grinding up into your cunt. The sight of him alone has you deciding to cave, you don’t care anymore.

“Bi-Han, please… help.”

“Thank the – hah – ffffucken Gods!” He exclaims, gripping your hips tightly.

He plants his feet on the mattress and then he’s simultaneously pulling you up and down his cock and fucking it up into you. You actually do start crying from the pleasure, finally getting a consistent feeling of him moving inside you has you going brain dead. Eyes glazing over, still open but not seeing.

The image of your face switching into a fucked dumb expression and tears falling from your eyes brings Bi-Han immense satisfaction and pleasure, nearly blowing his load at the look on your face alone. The whimpers and whines coming from you not helping either.

Your nails scratch at his bare chest, your pleasured noises coming consistently, you don’t think you could speak even if you tried so you don’t even bother trying. Just let yourself get fucked down onto his big dick.

You’re cumming first, and you’re cumming hard. Pussy squeezing Bi-Han so tightly his pace slows, his need doesn’t though, he keeps fucking you through it.

He encourages you, praising you, “Look so fucken – hah – pretty cumming on my cock, Fffuck look at you – ngh.”

His thrusts neither slow down nor stop, he’s still fucking you like there’s no tomorrow, his cock aching with need, twitching violently inside you, his own thighs spasming slightly.

“Bi-Han you’re so – mmm – beautiful when you’re – hah – close, wanna put you – fffgh – in my mouth,” you tell him, making mindless horny comments as he gets closer to his own high.

“Oh – FFFFUCK!” He cums with a shout, it's sudden and catches him off guard.

Your mention of wanting to suck his dick arousing him to the point of orgasm, he grasps your hips and pulls you down, grinding you into his pelvis as he fills you with all his hot, sticky cum. The feeling of him filling you up making your cunt twitch around him, your thighs shaking.

He looked so good as he came, skin glistening with sweat, abs clenching as he twitched, his own thighs shuddering with his orgasm.

“You look really hot when you cum,” you inform him.

His dick jerks inside you at the compliment, “You look hotter.”

You lightly grind your hips down more, overstimulating him slightly, his response is a needy whine, his hands stop you from moving, “Gonna have to give me a second if you wanna go again.”

Moving forwards, you press your chest to his, skin to skin contact making your heart soar.

Humming you say, “Jus wanna keep you inside me.”

“Fucken – I truly think you’re trying to kill me sometimes.” He complains, though not really, he enjoys the things you say to him.

You press a kiss against his neck before you decide to give him a hickey, sucking into the pulse point on his neck, nipping at it as you pull away. Bi-Han doesn’t say anything and so you add another, to the front of his throat, and then one on his collar bone, and the other side of his neck. You keep sucking marks into his neck, chest, anywhere you can reach, when you’re finished, you lick up the length of his neck and take his lips in your own.

The kiss tastes like his skin and your cunt, he grabs the back of your head and shoves his tongue into your mouth. His kiss is fervent, filled with need and lust, you moan into it and his cock twitches to life inside you.

He grinds his hips up into you, but you refuse to move, keeping him still inside you, keeping yourself busy with his lips. He pulls you away with the grip he has on the back of your head, pulling you by the hair. You huff out at the loss of his lips.

“Now look what you’ve fucken done,” he says, referring to his painfully hard dick pushing up against your cervix.

You feel like you might melt around his cock, pussy creaming around him. You look him in the eyes, giving him an innocent smile but he knows better.

He pulls you off him, ignoring your whines of protest, and lays you on the bed, flat on your stomach. His hands spread your ass cheeks, looking at his own cum spilling out of your pussy hole. He groans at the sight, never not enjoying the image of you filled with his cum.

Grabbing one of your pillows, he lifts your hips and slides it under them, elevating your lower half slightly. He removes his robe completely, chucking it to the floor. Leaning down, he lays over your back, skin to skin, he enters you from behind in this position.

Fucking into you slowly, fucking his cum back into you. Your whines and sighs soft, enjoying the tempo he’s set. It feels intimate, his hands travel to your own, interlocking your fingers as he leisurely fucks into you from behind. Quiet groans and grunts falling from his lips at the feel of your slippery cunt. His cum is leaking back out of you onto the sheets.

His cock drags in and out of you at a slow pace, one that is pleasurable but as you get needier, you crave him harder, deeper.

Your need evident in your drooling cunt, lower halves getting slicker as time slips by, “More, please – hah – Bi-Han.”

“No, take it like this, greedy little thing,” he groans out from above you.

It feels like he fucks you like that forever, so close to the edge but never tipping you over it, his hands eventually travel back to your hips, he pulls your knees up so you’re resting on them and not your stomach. His pace picking up at the change in position, unleashing a punishing pace.

Skin slapping skin filling the room, along with the absolutely lewd, wet squelching sounds of your pussy. Getting fucked so well on him, fucking you back on himself, moving you how he pleases. Your face is pushed into the mattress and you’re dribbling against the linen, tears streaming down your cheeks again, the overstimulation almost too much.

Bi-Han is grunting and groaning above you, the most feral noises coming from him, you realise in this moment what he’s attempting to do right now, and you go to crawl away from him, not wanting to make an even bigger mess.

He growls out at you in disapproval, “You’re going nowhere – hah – sweet girl, gonna have you squirting on me again, ffffuck–”

“Mhmm, too messy,” you shake your head against the bed.

“You’re always messy, sweetie, got the creamiest ffffucken – ngh – cunt.” His words make your cunt spasm around him, “Ah, getting so fucken close aren’t you?” He observes.

You shake your head at him again but one of his hands comes around to your front and he lands controlled slaps to your clit, making your cunt spasm around him even more. One particularly firm slap to your clit has you cumming with a shout, the pleasure too much, making you tingly all over.

Bi-Han is ecstatic at the view of you squirting on his cock, it pulls his own orgasm from him almost as soon as it happens, he fucks you both through it, gritting his teeth against the force of his orgasm. Shouting expletives and your name in the same sentence, his own orgasm overwhelming him. He ends up freezing a portion of the beds sheets with his momentary loss of control.

You’re puffing against the bed, on the verge of passing out from your insane orgasm. Bi-Han pulls out of you slowly, careful with you as he separates from you. His eyes lock onto your cunt and the way it's spasming from your orgasm, pushing his cum out as it does.

He's mesmerised by it for a moment, using all of his remaining self control to not lean down and lick you clean with his tongue.

“You okay, sweet girl?” Bi-Han checks in on you when he catches his breath.

You nod your head, eyes closed, “Mhmm, might pass out.” You puff out.

He chuckles at you, enjoying the tear streaks staining your cheeks, and the absolute fucked out look on your face.

He tucks your hair out of your face and leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He leaves and comes back with a wet cloth, wiping up the mess between your legs. You’re mostly out of it but when you come back to, he’s redressed you in your blue pyjama set, he’s also back in his robe.

He’s lying beside you in the bed, carefully watching your face.

“Did I actually pass out?” you ask.

“Yes, was a little worried about you actually.”

You smile at him, “Cute.”

He rolls his eyes and pulls you into him, both of you on your sides facing each other, embracing. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

“You’re changing the sheets this time,” he comments.

“Wrong,” you say.

He groans, “What’s in it for me if I change the sheets again?”

“I’ll give you head.”

He’s all too happy with that deal, “Done.”

❆˖°

Part five

A/N: Thank you so much for reading the whole thing! This update for some reason ended up being so long which is funny because I didn’t think myself capable of writing something this long when I first started writing, like 5k was a feat for me and now I’ve just dropped a 16k fic. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it as much as the first three chapters!!! If you have any thoughts, feelings, questions, observations about the chapter, anything, feel free to message me! Requests are open and like usual after an update I will be working through a few of those before the next part <333

[kissagii]

it's finals season, and nishinoya desperately needs a savior

cw: gender neutral reader, 2k words, reader is a bit of a nerd and noya is smitten, both are a little dense, i didn't proofread this nearly enough.

Nishinoya Yuu cannot fail high school. At least, not if he wants to go to the Tokyo training camp and meet the funny guys from Nekoma again. As it stands, the only obstacles between Noya and going to camp are the steadily approaching final exams - exams that he hasn’t spent nearly enough time studying for.

That’s how he found himself here: not-so-casually asking (read: begging) for help studying.

“But I can’t fail these exams!” He half-yells, smacking his hands dramatically onto your desk, “I’m too cool to fail! And I want to go to camp!”

You sigh, not thrilled to have the libero drawing so much attention to you, especially in the middle of the school day. But his pleas are pitiful - and bound to get annoying if left unanswered for too long - so your only real option is to offer whatever assistance he needs.

“Sure, I’ve got time, what do you need?” You offer, hoping desperately that you sound relatively nonchalant. You had grown fond of him as first-year classmates, and now being in separate classes made any opportunity to spend time with him one worth taking. Even if it ended in studying with Nishinoya Yuu, a man not exactly known for being studious. Loudness aside, he's a good guy: caring (at times overbearingly so), observant (but never when he needs to be), and unendingly passionate about his interests (and very little else). And undeniably attractive, though you’d never tell him that. It would go straight to his head.

His face lights up as soon as the offer is made. “You’re amazing! An angel sent from the heavens to help me go to camp!”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, now what subjects are giving you the most trouble?” You say, heart fluttering at the subtle words of appreciation. 

“Math. And physics, but that’s basically just math but more evil. Oh, and English. And history. And writing.” His expression shifts from joy to a pout with each subject, brows knitting together as he realizes just how inept (and uncool, he’s probably thinking) he is.

“Noya, you just listed every subject, that’s way too much,” You laugh, “But I’ll see what I can do. Give me a day to prepare?”

“Just try not to miss me too much!” Noya says as he jumps excitedly, waving to you as he walks backward out of the room. He waves the entire way until he walks back-first into the doorframe, letting out a squawk of surprise and continuing proudly like nothing ever happened.

This boy is going to be the death of you.

Exactly 24 hours after his first visit, Noya bounds into your classroom and over to your desk again. Despite expecting his visit this time, you’re caught off guard by his punctuality and higher-than-usual energy. 

“It is I, Nishinoya Yuu, Guardian Deity of Karasuno!” He announces, dropping into a neighboring desk.

“Yeah, I know that, Noya.”

“Hmph, but it’s more fun to do that,” He huffs, poking at the papers you have lined up on your desk, “What’s all this? For me?”

You stack up all the papers, creating a thick packet, and hand them to him. He loses interest the moment he realizes that the ridiculous-looking stack is indeed for him, mortified by the concept of having to do all of that. He pays minimal attention as you explain everything he’s supposed to do - something about the order of the subjects versus the tests, the problem difficulties, and suggested pacing - instead choosing to focus on something far more interesting. 

The way certain subjects make your eyes light up more than others. The way you tilt your body to face him as you talk. The way your lips move with each word. How much he wishes he could grab your face and kiss you.

And, ultimately, that which brings his attention back - the reward system. Your method of motivating him to put effort into his practice.

“The rewards are indicated with symbols, the key is at the back, and you don’t have to take any reward you don’t want. I’ll be here to check your work and help you with the harder ones, does that sound good? Oh, and no getting answers from your teammates. You’ll only get prizes for your own work.” 

“All this? really? These rewards better be good,” He sticks out his bottom lip, thumbing the papers, itching to flip straight to the back and see what he might have a chance at acquiring. 

You laugh, shooing him out of the chair he sits in, “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you’ll like one or two of them. Now go get working, deal with your prizes when you have an actual chance at earning them.”

“Hey! At least let me try to get motivated!” He whines, making a point to struggle to carry the twenty-or-so pages in his hands, “I might never forgive you for this!”

Though he acts offended, the moment he’s out of your sight his posture straightens and he hurries to his classroom. Only there does he set down the papers and fumble to the back, finding the Prize Key at the very end.

♤ - 1 sticker (assorted themes)

Who do you think he is? A first grader? Though he has to admit, the concept is cute.

♧ - Snack coupon

Now this, this is good - he could use them to barter with the team… if he could convince himself to not hoard them.

♢ - 10 minutes letting you show off at practice

Finally, you’ll come through on your promise of visiting him at practice!!

☆ - Bento Box

So you had been paying attention to how he always ogled your food during lunch hour. Oh, Tanaka is gonna be so jealous.

♡ - Kiss

He rereads the single word again. And again. He blows away nonexistent eraser shards; wipes the paper with his sleeve; traces his finger over the word. And still, there it is, inked directly onto the paper, completely intentional. Kiss.

Frantically he flipped through the packet, searching for the problem sets marked with a heart. Just what would he have to do to earn the sweetness of your lips against his? He’d do just about anything, really, he’d craved your affection since midway through first year.

Nishinoya Yuu would do anything to kiss you just once - even a physics problem so brutal even the most genius of his classmates might shy away from it.

“Ok, fess up, which one of you gave Noya answers to his study work?!” You shout, storming into Karasuno’s volleyball gym as the team begins their practice. The underclassmen’s confused stares hardly dent your frustration with the team and whichever of them was insolent enough to go directly against your request.

Ennoshita winces, smiling bashfully. “Well… I didn’t help him, exactly. He just told me to check his work and it was right, I didn’t give away any answers.”

Noya smiles proudly from across the gymnasium, “See! I’m perfectly capable of doing physics on my own!”

“Suga? Daichi? Is this true?” You ask, turning to the reliable third-years on the team, who you’re sure were there to witness Noya’s breakthrough.

“Mhm,” Suga nods, “And he went skipping to first period like a little girl.”

“I do not skip!” Noya insists.

The first years giggle amongst themselves, clearly amused by the dispute. Though, in their shoes, you probably would’ve laughed too.

“No, you were skipping,” Daichi adds bluntly. Noya’s jaw drops, insulted.

“I do not- Oh, fine, whatever, maybe I skipped a little. But see, I didn’t get answers from anyone, I solved the problem by myself! So therefore I deserve my reward!”

So maybe he did solve the problem on his own. So maybe he did spend all night working on that one near-impossible problem just to get the reward. So maybe he does want to kiss you.

“Alright, alright, I accept it, you solved the problem yourself. Good job. Call me when you’re done with practice, you’ll get your reward then.” You say resignedly, turning to leave the club room.

“No, don’t make me wait so long! I gave you the problem at lunch, you’re so mean to me!” Noya calls after you.

As you leave, a redheaded first-year (Hintata, if you correctly remembered Noya's ramblings about his teammates) whispers to you: “I think he’s in love with you.”

Thank the heavens that your back was turned, because your flustered expression would’ve made your crush on the libero painfully obvious to all in the room. 

But oh how you hoped that first year was right.

Only minutes after the end of practice, Noya found you behind the gymnasium. Still sweaty and haphazardly changed, he jogged to you excitedly. 

“I’m here now! Now don’t tell me I sat on the sidelines through morning practice for nothing, Daichi was ready to kill me,” He said, breathing slightly heavier than usual but still energetic.

“Have you just been pretending to be stupid this whole time?” You ask, “I spent days making that problem for a different study group, days, doing everything I could to make it impossible. I gave it to you as a joke, more than anything, I didn’t think you’d actually solve it.” 

Noya inhales sharply, looking down to the ground. “So, the part about… the kiss… was that a joke too?” He begins stepping back, feeling a fool for getting his hopes up so high. Frustrated and confused, he begins running his mouth like he always does, muttering about being a fool, being hopeless, the evilness of your schemes, and having wasted his energy and time in search of something he would never get.

“Noya, shut up,” You say, but he pays you no mind. “Yuu!” 

The one lesson he needs to learn is how to quiet down, and you know he won’t learn it on his own. You grab him by the cheeks and pull his lips to yours, cutting him off mid-sentence, kissing him right there behind the gymnasium as night descends upon the city. When you part he remains speechless, cocoa-brown eyes darting between your eyes and lips.

“It was a joke because I didn’t think you’d want it,” You murmur, letting a hand slide into his sweaty but somehow still soft hair. “If I had known this was what you wanted I would’ve let you kiss me as many times as you wanted.” 

Noya leans into your hand, as if making sure that you’re actually there, actually touching him. Gently you bring your foreheads to touch, a silent reminder that you are indeed real. “You're more than just a friend to me, Yuu, and in every moment that you’re silent I’ll remind you.”

“Ehehe, guess I’ll just never speak again,” He laughs cheekily, stealing another kiss, quick and playful. 

You pull back, but don’t move your hand away. What an idiot, snapping from speechless to silly in such a quick moment, and absolutely desperate for affection to boot. And yet this dramatic idiot had you absolutely smitten and wanting to kiss him over and over until evening turned to night turned to morning.

“You didn’t earn that one, Yuu! I guess I’ll have to cut your showoff time rewards by half,” You tease, poking the tip of his nose with your finger. It’s a ridiculous facade on your part - he’d never have to earn a kiss from you, just ask and you’d gladly give it to him. But the way his face twisted yet again, horrified by your mock threat, was too cute to pass up.

“Half?!” He scoffs, “I guess I’ll have to be extra flashy for my sunshine!” 

“Sunshine? Since when am I your sunshine?”

“I dunno, since now? Come on, it’s cute!”

Sunshine it is, then. Though if either of the two of you is the sunshine, you’re sure it must be him, because his giddy grin is easily the most beautiful thing you’ve seen in your life.

:)

[ddarker-dreams]

Redamancy.

Yan Scaramouche x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes and unhealthy relationships. Word count: 1k.

“You scowl too much.” 

If anyone else were to speak to Scaramouche, Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbinger in this way, they’d certainly be reduced to a pitiful pile of ash on the ground. Perhaps he’s thought about subjecting you to this fate, once or twice. That number could very well have been bumped up to three times if the indignant air he currently regards you with is to be considered. 

Then again, no one aside from you would get to experience this deceptively domestic scene. You sit beneath a canopy, branches free from winter’s thaw hastily preparing buds to herald in spring. Scaramouche holds your thighs captive, the soft flesh serving as his pillow. Indigo locks splay out against and tickle your skin. 

“There’s a lot to scowl about,” he replies, though he makes an effort to relax his tense facial muscles. The contemptuous smile he gives makes his previous expression look benevolent in comparison. “I’m stuck dealing with a fool of a woman who’d probably wander off a cliff because she was too busy admiring the clouds.” 

“Clouds are meant to be admired.” 

“Case in point.” 

“You make it sound like I’m chained to you with iron shackles, though,” you raise your ankle (notably shackle free, imagine that), drawing his attention and ire. Your sarcasm never fails to rile him up. He never seriously tries to put a stop to it, however. Such is his capricious nature. “If I’m such a bother, why not let me wander off the cliff?” 

Scaramouche grits his teeth. “Because…” 

There’s a pause, then, weighty and tangible. You know what he both wants and fears to say. If he were any less of a coward, he’d fill the aromatic air with truth, rather than engaging in his usual sidestepping. He’s so proficient at the act you swear he could moonlight as a crab. This mental image earns a barely contained giggle from you, one that further sours his mood, if such a thing were possible. 

Knowing you as intimately as he does, he correctly assumes that he’s the unwitting source of your amusement. 

“I can’t stand you,” he grumbles. Whether it’s to you or himself, you can’t decide. “Truly, I can't.” 

“Then hand me over to someone who can.” 

There’s a flash in his eyes then — otherworldly, malicious — he disregards composure like a snake abandons shed skin. He rises in a flash. Inhumanly cold fingers take your chin captive, bringing you closer to him, his delight in the ease with which he can manhandle you evident. Always the type to go for grand gestures, this one. His theatrical outbursts befit his moniker. 

Scaramouche grins, beset with an onslaught of bitterness akin to a black hole. It draws in and swallows anything unfortunate enough to be nearby. 

“You just love testing my patience, don’t you?” 

If you feared him, maybe you’d tremble, but you don’t, so you are still. It’s likely that you should fear him. He is volatile, a mess of contradictions too complicated to untangle, a vessel who fills himself with acrimony, the same way humans must with air. He delights in it and considers it his birthright. 

Your smile is not without kindness and that’s what bothers him most. 

“Come, don’t pout. I have no intentions of being complicit in whatever havoc you'd wreak if I was with another.” 

His eye twitches at the pesky word ‘another’. The mere thought of this faceless, nonexistent being having the audacity to lay claim to you, even in the land of fantasy, has his nostrils flaring and jaw tightening. You can see the ripple of muscles beneath his synthetic skin. He’s a wonder, this proprietorial doll, who can exalt and condemn you in the same breath. 

You are mine, and mine alone, his eyes seem to scream, and I’d sooner end the world than exist in it without having you for myself. 

“You really do scowl too much,” you reiterate your opinion from earlier, gently, almost sweetly. Whatever spell Scaramouche was under temporarily breaks, or perhaps he’s held prisoner to a new one, far more agreeable if not equally dangerous. “Your face is too pretty to always be frowning.” 

You enchant him by running your finger over his lower lip. It trembles by your command. His eyes go lidded, a lovelorn haze obscuring the former tempest. He can never decide if he wants to destroy or devour you. For someone like him, he can’t do one without the other. His love for you is a death sentence, despite the immortality that should’ve never belonged to your mortal body. 

It’s you who kisses him. 

He temporarily forgets himself. The arrogance, the hurt, the fear that you might slip between his fingers should he ever relax his hold. You find him foolish in that regard. He can have you in the palm of his hand if he likes, and you know he’d like that very much. There’s nowhere else for you to be. Not when he’s seen to the fact himself. 

Scaramouche melts into your person, returning your kiss with rapture, drunk on the way you offer yourself to him. He makes a deep, breathy noise, willing you closer, demanding total subservience. You let him have his way. Civilizations could rise and fall in the seconds that follow, and he’d pay them no mind, too absorbed with savoring your temporary connection. 

It is what he lives for; what he'd kill for.

His fair skin is flushed when you part. From the apple of his cheeks to the tip of his ears, he’s painted in a color from your palette. The pigmentation suits him. Red is the color around his eyes, of his longing for you, and of what would spill across the land should you ever part. 

“There,” you whisper, as if it were a secret meant for him alone, “That look suits you far better.” 

He wants to deny it — you can tell by how his grip tightens — but he remains uncharacteristically quiet. If he gets to delight in you, it’s only fair that you can occasionally delight in him, he supposes. 

Such is your capricious nature. 

[daeneryseastar]

deep diving into the episode three line from rhaenyra, “no one is here for me,” and how if the takeaway from that scene is that rhaenyra is a selfish brat you aren’t proficient enough to do anything past surface-level reading.

in episode one rhaenyra expresses to alicent that she hopes her father gets his son, “for as long as i can recall it’s all he’s wanted.” which leads us (the audience) to understand that while rhaenyra loves both of her parents she feels ostracized from her father (and mayhaps even her mother, to some extent, because of her constant pregnancies) due to his ‘need’ for a son to continue the targaryen dynasty. she is a daughter, only seen as valuable for her womb, which is evidenced that she knows about when talking to her mother. rhaenyra wishes to be a knight and ride off to battle and glory, with aemma giving her a gentle reality check on her lot in life. she does not want to serve the same purpose as her mother.

aemma dies near the end of the episode, with viserys ordering her butchered for the chance that his long-awaited male heir might live. this is a violent and gruesome scene, followed by rhaenyra not even being given the privilege of hearing her mother’s death first. she is instead relegated to members of the small council being alerted, even corlys and rhaenys learning about this before her, she is a silent member on the sidelines. she does not know the extent of what has happened, but she knows that something is wrong.

we have to think about how she learns of her mother’s fate. did otto tell her? did rhaenys? did viserys? did she see her mother’s body ripped open? did she see the bloody sheets left at the scene? was she allowed to hold baby baelon, considering he didn’t die immediately? was she there when he took his last breath? maybe it would bring her some comfort, she didn’t get to say goodbye to her mom. maybe she held him until he passed. did her father offer any explanation? we’ll never know, but these are all such heavy questions in regards to what she experienced that day. she’s fourteen, has spent her entire life watching her mother grieve dead baby after dead baby, losing little bits of herself in the process. it’s no wonder this was a traumatizing period for her, fueling her want (her need) to not be shackled down by marriage and childbirth.

even at her mother and brother’s funeral she isn’t allowed to just grieve, to just be. she has to hold her head high, she has to comfort her father, she has to order their corpses burned. was her father happy for the few hours he had a son? she wouldn’t know, she never will be that for him. how long does he spend wallowing is his self pity? he reprimands daemon for not being there for his niece, but where was he, her father? he banishes daemon, takes comfort from his daughter’s best friend. he finally comes to her, tells her of a great danger rising from the north; from my blood comes the prince that was promised, his will be the song of ice and fire. she hasn’t heard from him in days, a targaryen must be seated on the iron throne to unite the realm against the cold and the dark. her mother is dead, and he has wasted the years since she was born wanting a son. she is now enough, her mother never was.

it has now been six months since her mother's death (murder), and she has been heir the *entire* time. her father won't talk to her, she is still the cupbearer for the small council. lord corlys is angry about a war he says has cost him, the crown will not help. she suggests they use dragons, a show of force against their enemies. her father admonishes her, "it isn't that simple, rhaenyra." he allows the lords at the table to belittle her efforts. the only one appreciative is corlys, "at least the princess has a plan." otto says there are better uses for her talents, she has been heir to the iron throne for six months. she's been given the chance to choose a future kingsguard, she wants one with actual combat experience. the hand is exacerbated, she is firm in her decision. ser criston cole will be the replacement for ser ryam redwyne.

alicent has been visiting her father in his private chambers secretly, corlys wants his daughter to be the next queen. viserys begins openly courting lady laena of house velaryon. rhaenyra and alicent visit the sept, she expresses her worry, her mother has only dead for half a year. the lords seek to replace her, alicent convinces her that she cannot worry about the plots of lords and men, she is the heir, however. why shouldn't she worry? she misses her mother.

she meets with her father, he reassures her, "i loved your mother very much." she apologizes for speaking out of turn at the small council meeting, he tells her she will learn (will he be the one to teach her, though?) daemon has taken a dragon's egg and seized dragonstone, bringing news of his future marriage to lady mysaria. the king means to go himself to stop him, otto will not let him. daemon took baelon's egg. rhaenyra is angry. she reaches dragonstone just after otto's party, she knows they were about to come to blows. she confronts daemon, she is the reason he was disinherited. if he kills her, he'd be done with all this bother. daemon scoffs, walking away from her. he throws the egg whilst still retreating. rhaenyra smiles and leaves. her father is mad once he learns what she's done. she left without his permission, but she retrieved the egg and prevented bloodshed, he should be pleased with her efforts. otto would never have been able to accomplish what she did, he relents.

rhaenys lectures her about the order of things. the realm will never accept a woman ascending the iron throne, but it's different for her. her father is the king, rhaenys' father dies as a prince. her father made the lords of the realm swear obeisance to her, rhaenys never had such a thing. the lords chose viserys over rhaenys at the great council, viserys has not given them a choice. rhaenys is the the queen who never was, rhaenyra is the queen to be. when she is queen she will create a new order, rhaenys warns there will be war (unfortunately she is right).

another meeting takes place between father and daughter. he must take a new wife, someone to help propagate the targaryen line. they are vulerable, to easily ended. rhaenyra understands, it is his duty as king. obviously he will marry laena, the daughter of one of the most powerful houses in the realm and of pure valyrian stock, it is a fine match. alicent is still visiting her father in secret.

her father calls a small council meeting, he means to announce his next wife. rhaenyra is ready, she gave him her blessing (why is alicent here? she never has been before.) her father starts speaking, "i intend to marry... the lady alicent hightower." corlys is enraged, otto is pleased, alicent is anxious. rhaenyra was ready, it has all fallen apart. alicent is her best friend, that friendship dies before her very eyes. she runs from the room.

it has been two years. viserys and alicent are married, and they have a son, with one more baby on the way. the boy's name is aegon, it is his second birthday. he has past his infancy, the lords believe it is only a matter of time until the king names him heir, rhaenyra is well aware of this. the queen visits the godswood where rhaenyra sits. she overrides rhaenyra's authority, commanding the singer to leave. she states the king wishes for her to join them, he wants them to have fun as a family. they do not need her to celebrate his long-awaited son. it is the king's command, she leaves unhappily. alicent wishes for things to be different, rhaenyra knows they never can be.

together they all sit, traveling towards the kingswood. rhaenyra asks after alicent's well-being, viserys reminds her that she will be in this position sooner than late (the same position that killed her mother). "it isn't so bad, the days are long but aegon came quickly and without fuss." the queen states. rhaenyra is hurt, she tries not to show it. the king reminds her she has duties, rhaenyra retorts sarcastically. how long will these duties last, once her father names alicent's son as heir over her? her life will be forfeit before long. no one is here for her.

"no one is here for me." translates to "no one has been here for me. i’ve been alone and angry and terrified for years. i am my father’s heir, but what does that mean? what will it cost? you put me here. daemon put me here. alicent put me here. you have a son now, he outlived baelon and my other siblings. how long until i am cast aside again? made to be some petty lord's wife, made to be a broodmare until it kills me? i don't want to end up like my mother. this heirship is all i have. it will soon no longer be mine. i'm only seventeen. no one is here for me."

rhaenyra is never shown the same amount of grace as alicent for her strifes and anguish in life, for the fact that she too was a child from episodes one through five. rhaenyra might not have been a child bride, but she still spent her life being told she was never enough. she was not a boy, she could not be the heir, her father needed an heir. he kills her mother for it, he ignores her unless she can benefit him. he makes her believe that he will marry laena, only to blindside her by marrying alicent. she realizes alicent has been lying to her for months. her father continues to undermine her throughout the years. he names her heir to spite daemon, which she admits she knows about in episode two. he allows the lords to ignore her. it takes him two years to reassure her he won't replace her. rhaenyra is an angsty teen who has seemingly lost everything and has no support to counter that. she is not upset that no one showed up to a two-year-olds birthday party with her in mind, she is upset that her father continuously overlooks her, that he takes and takes and takes everything from her. he took her mother, he took daemon, he took alicent, he had a son. she has not been able to catch a break due to her father's selfishness. in all honesty, she should have acted out worse, maybe burn everything to the ground. viserys would deserve it, she was far too lenient with him.

[yanderederee]

Baji with 12 if it hasn't already been requested for the writing event

Event prompt12:

“We’ll burn it down and then we’ll build the world again.”

a/n:using the full context for this prompt; this is JD’s way of expressing how he intends to kill the guys who bully Veronica for spreading false rumors about her… and I want in on that👹

got a little too lost in the sauce and couldn’t find a good time for this as a line of text though; so please accept this instead.

cw: extreme bullying, toxic solutions, murder

Baji seriously had enough.

On the first day of school, Baji noticed your pencil drop under your desk, and decided he’d retrieve it for you in passing. You were so grateful for his assistance, completely over the moon with gratitude. It would have been unnerving, had you not been so sincere.

Usually, he wouldn’t give a normal person like you a second thought. But that sweet smile of yours captured him.

Ever since that day, Baji’s had his eyes on you. You were careful in the way you moved and talked, doing your best not to get in anyone’s way, or say the wrong thing. Soft spoken to a fault, but always kind and considerate.

Baji made an effort to talk to you more in class, soon after. You relied on him occasionally, enough to eventually call each other friends. But your relationship was only began to develop… He couldn’t have known about the bullying you experienced whenever he wasn’t around.

You never told anyone about the extent of your mistreatment. You thought it’d go away on its own— that ignoring it and paying it no mind would eventually make you less entertaining to mess with.

It wasn’t so bad… at first. A teasing here, being shoved there.

And Baji had no idea…

—-Until today.

It was just another school day. Cruelly early, bustling with students who were unusually chatty about the latest gossip hanging in the air.

“Are you serious?! That girl from Class-3?! I never would have guessed...”

“It’s always the quiet ones, I guess. Slutting herself out for attention though? How pathetic.”

“She’s not even that cute, you know Takeru just did it with her out of pity.”

“He told me she’d kept begging him for it! How disgusting!”

“Gross! I hope I never have to sit next to that whore ever again~”

‘Jeez, girls these days are so harsh’ Baji thought to himself in passing. Who were they even talking about? Some girl in class-3? That was his class. Well, he doubted he’d know who it was either way.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Upon entering the threshold of his class, Baji was frozen in shock.

It was routine for him to seek you out and chat with you for the first few minutes of class, before the bell rang.

However, instead of being met with your greeting grin, all that remained was a completely destroyed, empty desk.

Your desk.

His blood was boiling.

That was it. He’d seriously fucking had it.

Immediately, Baji looped his arms through the straps of his school bag, and made a B-line for your desk. He picked it up, and held it upside down by the metal bars underneath.

He wasn’t sure if you’d already seen the damage or not, but he decided right then and there no one else fucking would. It was fucking cruel. And he was pissed beyond measure.

“Baji-san! Just where do you think you’re taking that desk?” His teacher hollered after him. “I’m throwing it away!” He yelled back, a seething rage evident in his tone. If the teacher said anything after that, it didn’t even register to Baji.

Baji had a feeling you were aware of the rumors going around. You were always on time to class, so he was sure you’d also seen your classmate’s cruel defacing.

First and foremost, he was throwing this fucking desk away. Then, he’d go looking for you.

He wasn’t sure where to find you, though.

Possibility 1; you never came to school to begin with.

Possibility 2; you went to class as usual, saw the desk, and ran away. It was a toss up between if you went home or stayed on school grounds.

Those were the most likely possibilities he could think of.

Having finally made his way to the school’s dumpster, he took a moment of rest before tossing it in.

If there was one thing to beware of about Baji, it was his blinding hot rage. He’d practiced composing his tempter while in school. He couldn’t let himself lose his cool so easily. Calm down. He had to calm down, especially before he went looking for you…

However, fate had other plans…

Two wanna-be delinquents could be overhead chatting while ditching class behind the dumpster.

“You mean Y/n, right?”

“Yeah that’s the one! Takeru said she almost drew blood with how bad she was at sucking dick!”

“Poor guy. She probably wasn’t any better in bed…”

More Fucking Rumors…

Baji quickly untied his hair, and slipped his glasses into his school bag. If he couldn’t control his tempter, he could at least try to maintain face.

Baji stalked up behind the two punks, the desk dragging behind him in an eerily tight grip. He soon came close enough in distance to lift it single handedly, and slam it over the back of both of their heads.

Before they had time to react to their sudden assault, Baji just kept wailing.

With both hands, he kept swinging the desk up and down.

When they moved to dodge, he swung against the side.

When they tried to move away, he crushed their kneecaps.

When they begged for mercy, he hit harder.

Over and over, until he began to spin out of control. Wild with disgust and hate, the lies they would have spread were eating up all the sanity he had.

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

Fuck.

Every.

Last.

One.

Of.

You.

“Pl… se…. … op… st…op—“ whispered out one kid, his last words sputtering past his broken teeth.

Wait, what happened?

Baji had a sudden moment of clarity. Two kids, beaten maybe a little more than half to death, laid motionless before him.

Shit, did he go too far?

When was the last time he blacked out like that?

But the rage circulating in his fists had yet to subside. “You conscious?” He asked his begging victim. The poor boy’s crocodile tears were response enough. “You ever, fucking dare, say another word about Y/n, ever. And I swear to god. I will fucking kill you.”

The punks were left there, barely alive.

Baji felt thankful he hadn’t gotten any blood on his school uniform, before discarding of the bloody desk at the very bottom of the large dumpster container.

He honestly felt a bit grateful to those two. He’d managed to blow off a good amount of steam thanks to their insolence. He took a deep breath, and began wandering the school in silent deliberation over where you may be.

Where were you… home, or school?

He’d figure he’d try his hand at looking over the school first. Careful to avoid any of the hallway monitoring teachers during classes, Baji checked every floor throughly.

Eventually it came down to the roof, or you’d ran home. Usually, the door to the roof would be locked at a normal school. However, Ryusei broke that lock long ago so he’d have constant access to the roof whenever he needed a nap.

Running up the stairs and through the roof door, he searched the area. Lo and behold, there he found you, huddled into yourself with your back against the wall. You were crying, not caring about how loud you may have been.

Finally…

Even though he’d been searching so hard to find you, now that he was actually there… Baji had no idea what to do. What to say. But he had to say something. His heart was breaking just looking at you.

Slowly, Baji made his way closer. You looked up when you heard footsteps, expecting to have been caught by a teacher. Yet you were surprised to instead see Baji, holding back a bitter expression. Quick to wipe away tears, you looked away right after. “S-sorry, I’m not feeling really well… could you please leave?” You asked shakily.

Baji pressed his lips into a line. “I know… I’m sorry I didn’t know sooner,” he said quietly, dropping to his knees in front of you and pulling you into a hug. “It’s okay to cry. Let it out.”

He made sure to hold you tight. Though, even if you had tried to escape his grasp, the overwhelming urge to cry kept you in place, clinging to him even. There, you cried for a good ten minutes or so, unable to suppress the feeling of being so humiliated and hated.

“I-I didn’t… I didn’t do anything t-that they’re saying I d-did… it’s all lies…” you sobbed into his chest. Baji knew that. He knew it. Hell, even if it was true, he’d still feel this same way.

“It’s okay, I know. You won’t have to worry about that anymore.” Baji spoke clearly, lifting your face to look him in the eyes. “I’ll make sure they apologize, and take back everything they said about you.”

“I promise, they’ll pay for the things they’ve said and done to you. No one will ever think of you in that way ever again.”

Baji promised you with fire in his eyes. While his expression would be scary to most, you couldn’t help the way your heart beat out of its chest at his words.

You were quiet for a while, wide and doe eyed under Baji’s meaningful gaze. “How… do you plan to do that…?” You asked.

Happy to see his declaration helped ease the sadness in your heart, he smiled, and kissed the crown of your head. “Don’t worry about that. Just know by tomorrow morning, everything will be back to the way it was.”

You weren’t sure why, but those words comforted you deeply. You didn’t really believe he was capable of something like that, but his intentions were enough. You smiled back at him, and nodded. “Sure,” you agreed absentmindedly. “Thank you.”

Baji felt as though for the first time since he’s met you, things felt right. You in his arms, smiling, relying on him, holding him back. This feeling he had been unfamiliar with, this whole time, was Love.

As soon as he came to the conclusion, that he loved you. Something in Baji shifted. A creature he had no idea lived inside him suddenly started making itself known.

How could they do this— to someone so undeserving of their malice? Who would ever dare to hurt someone as sweet as you?

It was an extraordinary wrong that they’d committed against you. One that couldn’t go unpunished. He hated them. Wanted them dead. Would kill them. That was the only way to make things right, he began to think.

“Come on, let’s go.” Baji said softly, helping you to your feet. You looked up at him inquisitively. “We’re ditching.” He clarified, offering you a mischievous grin.

Normally, skipping school would be against both your wishes. However, given the circumstances … You grinned back with puffy eyes. You took his hand, and together you snuck out of the school with no trouble.

Having snuck out to a nearby diner, you both enjoyed each other’s company. You two always got along well, his sarcastic remarks were somehow easy for you to read, and kept you fueled with engaging conversation.

Baji seemed like he could be the awkward sort around girls, but in truth, he simply had no interest in getting close with anyone. Only you.

It made you feel better, feel special in a way.

The day had started off in the worst way possible, but now, laughing to the point of tears with the person you liked the most, everything felt like it really would be alright….

Baji glanced at the clock, noticing how many hours had passed by so quickly. “We got one more stop to make before I walk ya home, sound good?”

You nodded at him simply, smiling wide.

… So why were you walking back towards the school?

“Uh, Baji? Where are we going..?” You asked nervously. Baji squeezed your hand reassuringly, throwing a grin your way. “Don’t worry, just trust me.”

And so you did. You took a deep breath to settle your nerves, and put your trust in the person you liked so much.

Standing off in a nearby alleyway just a few streets over from the school, Baji told you to wait behind as he stood at the alleys entrance, scanning students as they passed by, not giving him a second glance.

Soon, a familiar group of voices made your throat close up with anxiety.

“I still can’t believe you actually slept with Y/n! You sure you ain’t infected with her creepiness?”

“Hahaha! As if. It’s nice not having to see her gloomy face at school anymore though.”

“You’re the man, Takeru! Next time, invite me, Kay? I’d—“

Suddenly, there was no more outspoken foul voice speaking. “Mm? Suiren? Oi! Suiren!”

Quiet for a moment, Takeru could hear an unfamiliar thudding should come from the nearby alley.

Baji’s first punch was enough to knock the boy out cold, yet one after the other, Baji’s fist threw punches more fierce than the last.

Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die—

“Wh-what the hell..!”

Baji’s head turned eerily slow, as he watched his friend get beaten in horror. Blood and hair stuck like glue against his cheek. Before Takeru could run or scream, Baji dropped the unconscious boy, and wrapped one large and bloody hand across his face.

“Shut the fuck up. That is, unless you want to die right now.” Baji threatening voice cut deeper than bone, dragging the two boys deeper into the alley and away from prying gazes.

Takeru doesn’t dare take his chances. Obediently, he nodded vigorously, putting his hands up in defense while holding back tears. Whiling scanning the area for a means of escape once his chance came, he quickly spotted a small form not too far off, frozen and wide eyed.

You.

Oh shit, he began connecting the dots.

“Takeru Izukura, right?” Baji asked. His victim wasn’t eager to confirm this. Unfortunately for him, that wasn’t a smart move. Tightening the death grip he had on Takeru’s skull, Baji shoved him against the wall, and began ramming his fist into his stomach.

How could someone be strong enough to crack a person’s rib in just one punch? Takeru couldn’t help the pathetic yells that ripped through his throat. As desperately as he wanted to cry his apologies out now, it was impossible to so much as breath with all the air being knocked out of him with every one of Baji’s outrageous punches.

All the pent up rage Baji had been saving was finally making itself known. The events of the day began flooding his mind with white rage. The desk. The rumors. Your tears. All of it. He gritted his teeth so hard he could feel a molar chip.

All because of this asshole. Only a few minutes ago he was laughing about your severe mistreatment, and only now wanted to apologize? Even if he did want to hear his excuses and sputtered sorrows, it wouldn’t be honest. It’d have been reactive.

You stood frozen at Baji’s brutal assault. You had half a mind to step in and stop this whole mess, but after catching a clear glimpse of Takeru’s face… you gulped.

“B-… Baji.” You called out quietly. Upon hearing your voice, Baji immediately stopped. Blood soaking his knuckles and face, he looked your direction, an unreadable expression on his face.

Should he feel shame for letting you see him like this? Maybe he should, but nothing like that came to surface. After your call, all he felt was attentive. He waited for you, as you moved closer, looking his victim in the eyes.

“I want… to hear what kind of apology you have to say.” You combed through your words carefully. You felt hatred for him, but had he given a sincere apology, maybe you could forgive him.

Takeru looked at you, warily. “It’s your fault I’m in this position in the first place—“ he tried reminding you, but a heavy fist broke his nose in response. “Try again asshole.” Baji warned.

Your bully sobbed. “I’m sorry! I fuc-cking sorry, okay! I won’t make shit like that up again!! I swear!”

You felt bile rise in your throat. “That’s it?” You asked, waiting only a few moment for a response. When he looked at you expectingly, you grew angry.

“You don’t even remember the half of what you’ve done to me, do you…” you chocked on tears you didn’t want to surface. “How about a sorry for tripping me down the stairs the first time we met? An apology for ‘jokingly’ pushing me against the desk, and flipping my skirt up for all your buddies to see?” You began listing ways he’d fucked up. His face went pale, now under two sets of hostile eyes.

“That so?” Baji’s deep tone only sent the beaten boy into a cold sweat. “W-wait! I’m sorry for that too, okay! R-really!”

But he wasn’t. Not really. He was just sorry he was caught.

“I don’t give a damn what happens to you. Whatever happens is what you deserve.” You swallowed hard, and took a step back. “Baji…” you drew your gaze back to him and his blank eyes. You didn’t know what to say.

But he understood just fine. “Leave this to me.”

[onyourowndaisymae]

obey me dateables (+ luke) playing minecraft with you

this came to me last night like a prophecy from the god of silly geese

prompt: you've somehow convinced these guys to play minecraft, a human world game, one night, just the two of you. but how exactly does that experience go?

[brothers version]

{established relationship, obey me x reader (minus luke, who is platonic ofc)}

Diavolo

oh you-- oh you thought the future king of the devildom was going to be a fearsome warrior slashing down hordes of monsters coming to attack the two of you? or a masterful builder constructing a wonderous homestead for you two to retreat to at night?

nah, this man is a certified flower picker.

diavolo basically uses this as an excuse to play domestic family simulator with you. he's at his happiest when he's picking flowers and planting them around your shared house (you've got to share a house with this man or he'll give you the most pitiful expression) or decorating to any other extent, like carpets or paintings or lights. he just loves making your little home together!

he's also just as willing to do anything you request of him. you need him to mine for cobblestone? he's your guy! need someone to fish for you? right away, mc! you have to show him exactly how to complete said task, but once you do, he's happy to help.

definitely puts your beds together and gives you a dumb, happy grin. the characters are as close as the two of you now! speaking of which, do you have any plans? will you spend the night at the castle? he can push back his morning meeting tomorrow if you promise you'll stay.

he's just so happy to spend time with you. your shared little cottage and virtual world are just another artifact of your relationship. maybe some day the two of you can have a domestic setup like this in real life, too.

Barbatos

this man is good at everything he does. obviously, he's going to pick up the controls and mechanics surprisingly fast. you'd think he'd made the game himself with the ease he gets around.

your shared house is beautiful. he actually originally made two separate houses, one for each of you. but when you looked confused and told him you assumed you'd live together, he immediately gets to work on a bigger, prettier house for you to share. the only thing that gives him away is that pleased little twitch of the corner of his mouth as he resists a smile.

with as good as he is at the game, barbatos isn't super keen on what is actually "good" and what is just normal game stuff. he finds diamonds within 15 minutes of his first trip into a cave and, when you applaud his efforts, he turns to you and very plainly asks "is that... good?"

everything he finds goes in a communal chest at your shared home. you tell him he doesn't have to do that, but he insists-- it's in his nature. he doesn't tell you that every little comment you make when you spot new, valuable resources in the chest makes his chest warm. always happy to serve, this one.

monster killing machine. nothing will hurt you in this game. they can't even get close enough-- barbatos is always there, at your tail, protecting you from stray arrows or sneaky creepers trying to get you.

Simeon

oh, you're taking on the challenge of trying to teach him how to play a video game? good luck. kiss your sanity goodbye now.

he is terrible with the controls. simeon fares a little better with a controller because it's made for gaming only. god help you both if you're on a computer. wasd? never heard of her.

despite his piss poor technology skills, he's surprisingly pleased with the way this is all going. he feels a little bad that you have to babysit him in-game but appreciates your attention nonetheless. any mistake is met with a sweet laugh-- what a good sport.

he finds your patience endearing, and vows internally to get better at this game so that you'll want to play it more often. he's already plotting to rope solomon and luke into helping him improve.

and just like any good softie, he's terrible at in-game combat. he dies so many times. he doesn't really understand what's happening when he starts getting attacked. most of the time, the creature will hit him from behind, so he literally thinks he's dying for no reason. you have to explain to him that he's gotta-- simeon just turn around, you're-- dead. he's dead already.

his strengths in lie much more simple pursuits. give this man a farm to tend and he'll be perfectly content being a cute little malewife house husband. he secretly gathers the ingredients for a cake and surprises you with one after you return home from collecting wood to expand your house. he's beaming next to you in real life; who wouldn't kiss all over that cute face of his?

Solomon

speaking of old ass men-- this man is a menace in your minecraft world.

he gets the controls pretty quickly. pros: you don't have to spend much time teaching him how to play. cons: he is confident enough in his survival abilities to just... disappear. what's that mc? you wanted to build a house together? too late. he's fighting against three endermen deep in a mine an entire biome away.

you're going to have to do a lot of the communal work yourself. build the house, gather resources, find a reliable source of food and materials-- solomon will stroll right in and steal them from your chest. if he's feeling generous, he'll leave behind the rare resources he got his hands on during his journeys. which is nice, of course, but he still stole three whole stacks of wood planks like a jackass and took off before you noticed.

you end up making it to the nether together. he says he'll protect you, and for the most part that is true. however, sometimes he's preoccupied and you get attacked while he's not looking. if you die, he'll laugh at you (yet still save your stuff and give it back when you return). if you survive, then it's onwards into the depths of hell!

when he gets bored, he starts terrorizing you. this is as basic as moving things around the house to as obnoxious as blocking you in with dirt or wood and covering you up as you try to escape. he thinks this is hilarious, by the way. but he knows you, and his antics cease before you actually get pissed off.

Luke

luke tries very, very hard to be good at this game. he gets a A for effort... and a C- for skill.

somehow, someway, he falls into every. hole. imaginable. you'd almost think they're spawning in front of him with how frequently this happens. you're playing rescue now... and again... and again... and he did it once again. he also gets lost very easily, so it's best to keep him with you at all times.

you guys decide to share a little house together and it's very cute. you've got your own separate rooms, then a kitchen and living room to share. he is very insistent that it has to look like a real house, with a real kitchen and everything. humor him and help him out-- he'll reward you by always making sure you have food.

every activity in this game is now a group activity. safety in numbers, he says, in the middle of the day with no monsters in sight. it doesn't really matter anyways. he'll follow you wherever you go. he'll even enter that super scary cave you're in so he doesn't have to face the monsters alone.

luke is very scared of being attacked by any mob in the game. he's specifically built his room on the second floor of your house so they can't get him. if he is somehow face to face with a monster, then he's yelling, incoherent as all hell, panic-building a dirt protection chamber around himself (he won't actually kill them because he feels too bad). if you're within reach, then he'll cover you too. if not, good luck with that monster! he will root for you, obviously, but you're delusional if you think he's going out there to help you.