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seravphs · 1 year

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ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — KNIGHT! GOJO x PRINCESS! FEM READER

Gojo has devoted his entire life to protecting you as your dedicated guard. A greater force is conspiring to keep you apart.

wc — 3.7k

tags — royal au, childhood friends, forbidden love, protective Gojo, sneaking around/flouting social etiquette, period drama-esque tension between repressed princess and rakish knight, mutually possessive, title from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

part 1 of the hand which holds the knife

Everyone knew Satoru Gojo was supposed to be yours.

You claimed him the day you knighted him. He wore your colors and answered to your demands. The physical evidence of your ownership was all over him, the way someone would mark a well loved pet. Even the neck of his jacket carried your embroidery like a collar. To anyone with eyes, he was your adored guard dog.

When all of your memories blur into one stream of consciousness, the day you knighted him remains clear. You remember everything, including your father stealing him out from under you.

You were the only one who truly thought he was ever going to be yours. It was part of the promise you had sworn to each other as children, playing princess and the guard with wooden swords and flower crowns.

Looking back, you can see the gears of court machinations turning. It was no simple coincidence that the only heir to House Gojo ended up in close proximity to you, any more than any other of your introductions to sons of highborn houses.

Gojo has no interest in pretending to be a prince. It was boring for him to be trapped in restricting uniforms complete with epaulets. He found more pleasure in protecting you from danger while you preened in your gilded cage, none the wiser through his efforts. Safe and unaware, the way he liked it. You would never have to know how dangerous the world was if he simply destroyed everything in your path before it got to you.

You didn’t understand the way the adults looked at the two of you. All you knew was that you couldn’t bear to be apart from him. You rose each morning looking for him, and went to bed waiting for the minute you’d be reunited again. He was your whole world, your one and only friend. It was his hand that guided you through childhood adventures. He was the sword and shield that had cut down kidnappers and serpents for you.

The first wedge in your relationship comes with his twelfth birthday.

You chase his back through the years, watching it broaden in front of your eyes. His body changes. His voice drops. The first time you hear it after the pitchy squeaks of puberty clear from his throat, you feel the sickening wrench of something in your stomach. It had never mattered before that Gojo was a man, potentially your betrothed.

Now it burns you to look at him. He became gorgeous while you weren’t looking, all long willowy limbs and snow white hair. The women of the court have started looking at him now. They call him the beautiful dragon, after his house crest.

Even though you know reasonably that you can do nothing about this, really, you have no right to, that galls you. You’re a princess. You’re used to being able to deal with things that upset you with little more than a nod to Gojo. But he can’t solve issues that he’s the root of.

The only way to show everyone that Gojo’s devotion belongs to you is to tie him to your side. At twelve, he’s already the strongest squire in the entire kingdom. Better than most knights, even. It’s a clear path to being the greatest knight of his time, throughout all of history, even. He already promised to be your sword when you were children. All you have to do is wait.

Gojo trains and you begin to learn the extent of your royal responsibilities. Study etiquette. Marry well. Become a dutiful wife. Give the king heirs.

Gojo becomes Lord Gojo. He calls you princess now. Although part of you rebels at the idea that he would ever call you anything other than your name, another part of you can’t help the queasy feeling you get when he says your title, low and soft. Like he means it for your ears only. Like princess is just another way of showing how much of him is yours.

Gojo is not usually a proud man because he doesn’t have to be. His abilities speak for himself. But he’s cocky to a fault. He knows the extent of his capabilities, which means he won’t capitulate to anyone. Why would he?

When it comes to you, however, he bends his neck and accepts the collar willingly. The strongest can only be tamed by what he allows to tame him and it’s you, it’s always been you.

Perhaps that’s why things turn out the way they do on the day you knight him.

Or, as you find out later, your father knights him.

It was the day after your sixteenth birthday. Gojo himself had turned seventeen three months and six days before. It was strangely old for a boy of his caliber. He was so talented he could’ve been the youngest knight in the realm, but no one could make Gojo do something he didn’t want to do.

There was no shame in it, either. Everyone knew Gojo was too talented and well-connected for it to be anything other than his own choice. The only heir of House Gojo, he was destined to become a knight even if he did nothing to earn it. And he had done much to earn it.

Winning wars single handedly tended to do that. There were already legends blooming from the battlefield by the time he came home and tossed the unlucky enemy commander’s head at the king’s feat. His bow wasn’t nearly low or respectful enough to be addressed to the king, but he had been lighter-hearted back then, more willing to forgive.

Especially for Gojo, who had cut a killing swathe through the ranks of the opposing army so ruthlessly they began to call him a god of death.

Gojo kneels at your feet, his white head still high. He’s a little too tall for you, even at this angle. Lord Commander Yaga clears his throat. Gojo looks up through the wisps of hair that have escaped to obscure his eyes. They’re piercing, an attractively violent blue.

“I’m sorry,” he says, so low no one else could’ve heard the two of you even if you hadn’t been standing alone on the podium in front of the king’s throne. “Am I too tall for you now, princess?”

“Don’t tease,” you whisper back, flustered despite yourself. The pommel of the sword is clammy in your grip. You’re scared to drop it and accidentally take a finger off with it.

You’re taking too long. It’s making you anxious. You’re distinctly aware of your father’s stare boring into your back. You’ve been sheltered since you were young by your father’s paranoia, but he’s recently begun letting you apply yourself more to your royal duties. You can’t give him any reason to doubt you.

Gojo dips a little lower.

With this change in angle, you can place the flat of the blade on each of his shoulders. It’s your father’s sword, too large and unwieldy in your hands. Standing over Gojo is a strange experience. It’s uncomfortable looking down on someone who’s been taller than you for all your life.

You wish he would stop looking at you like that. His gaze is searching. You feel naked underneath it, even with layers of dresses on. When he says his vows, it feels intimate, like he’s speaking them to you. For you.

Gojo rises, shaking his hair out of his eyes like a shaggy dog. Like this, you’re reminded suddenly of how strong he is. His shoulders are broad underneath his silver armor. Lean muscle cords his legs. There’s an easy, effortless grace to the way he moves - the confidence of a man who has never been bested in his entire life.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. He’s still standing too close. If it were any other man, your father would have demanded he be whipped by now, but Gojo has always gotten away with things no one could. He ducks his head so he can speak directly into your ear - dangerous, even for him. He says his piece fast. “I’ll see you in your rooms, my lady.”

Then he pulls back.

There are thunderclouds gathering across the king’s face, but when you shake your head, your father relents. He smiles and kisses your temple as you climb up the steps of the platform of his throne to return the sword to him.

Years later, you learn that the moment you leave the throne room, your shoulders sure with the knowledge that Gojo is finally secure in your grasp, your father takes up the sword you had held and knights him. Princesses have no authority to confer knighthood. Only kings.

You know your father means well. He loves you. You’re all he has left. If Gojo pushed for your hand to be one that he swears loyalty to first, then your father would have been happy to comply either way. You just wish you would’ve known that it meant nothing.

There’s a sharp rap on your door, followed by two short, one long. A code you had devised a long time ago. You pull open the door and Gojo all but falls into your room. He’s pressed up against you, front to front as he closes the door behind him, tumbling you into your bed.

“Hi, princess,” he says, his breath warm against your neck. You squirm in his hold, feeling heat rush through your veins. It’s getting harder and harder to hide the way he affects you, but you don’t want anything to change between the two of you. Though sometimes, you swear Gojo likes using your title so much precisely because he knows how you react to it.

“We have to stop doing this,” you tell him, like you tell him every time. “It’s inappropriate.”

He groans and pushes away from you. You mourn the loss of contact. “Come on, don’t make me do this again. Who cares if it’s inappropriate? Who says?”

“Dame Zenin thinks we’re too close.”

“Dame Zenin is an idiot,” Gojo says. “You know she only says that because she wants to get rid of me so you’ll look at Naoya. As if you would ever, even if I was gone.”

“Still.”

Gojo grabs your chin in his hand. “You are a princess and I am the only heir to House Gojo. We bow to no one, understand? What right do mice have to judge dragons?”

He’s the dragon, you think. Your crest is the rose. You exist to be judged. That’s the role of a princess.

Gojo sprawls out on your bed. He’s so tall he takes up more than half of it, even though your bed was built to be more than twice your size. His eyes are shut, his long white lashes soft. He looks gentle in repose, almost like a lamb with his coloring.

He’s beautiful. He always is. You want to touch, to hold, to claim. You want to press your ear against his chest and steal the thunderous beat of his heart for your own. You want to press your rouged lips to his neck and collarbones, to mark his body with a muted rose.

Instead, you sit stiff, prim and proper.

He opens his eyes. “Come here,” he says, his arm reaching for you. You let him pull you closer.

As always, he has to reach out first. You can’t allow yourself to take what you want. It’s not in your nature, the way you were raised.

You bury your face into the space between his neck and his shoulder.

“There we go,” he coos. Your face burns with the condescension of it, the way he treats you like an animal that has to be carefully coaxed closer. But he’s not wrong, and that’s why you let him pet you into submission, gently stroking your sides as he tangles his legs with yours.

You were never so affected by him as children. Somewhere along the way, Gojo had become unmanageable to you, and you don’t know what to do about it.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs against your hair. “Where are you going off to in that pretty head of yours?”

“I’m with you,” you whisper against his neck. “I’m always here.”

You’ve spoiled him, you think. When you were a child, you didn’t know any better. Gojo was just Gojo. Letting him stay by your side even as you got older was an indulgence that he now pushes the limits of. He’s never cared about propriety.

“You have to go back to your room now,” you whisper reluctantly. You’re always the more cautious one of your duo. It’s been too long. Someone will become suspicious. For once, you wish you could just let go of your worries, but someone has to check Gojo. If both of you just did whatever you wanted, it’d be the ruin of your houses. This is how it has to be: Gojo pushes and you pull back.

The dim light of the dying candles make his blue eyes appear black. “Give me something of yours first,” he says.

You know what he’s asking for. You climb up from the bed and go into your dresser to search, turning up one of your handkerchiefs. It bears the colors of your house and your careful embroidery.

He kneels at your feet.

“Stop,” you say, trying to pull away.

Gojo presses a kiss to your hand. His lips are soft against the skin of your hand, temptation incarnate. Your fingers tremble lightly in his grasp, torn between wanting to seize him and wanting to run away. The enormity of your desire for him terrifies you. If you ever let him in for one second, you can see how easy your descent would be.

“I’m yours, princess. Don’t forget it.”

With that, he ties your favor around his wrist and finally leaves you to your room, panting like you’d run through the halls. No matter how old you get, Gojo always leads in your interactions. He plays with you, enjoying the way he can make you react to him.

It’s normal for a princess to visit the training yard, you try to convince yourself the next day. There’s nothing strange about stopping by while you’re on your afternoon walk. After all, you should keep abreast of everything within your castle.

Gojo stands in the center of the yard. He’s demonstrating one of his self created drills, a complicated set of maneuvers only he can pull off. In short, he’s showing off while pretending like he’s doing the class a favor by trying to teach them something.

Lord Commander Yaga notices you the moment you set foot in the yard. You should expect it. After all, it’s his territory.

“Attention,” he bellows. “The princess is here.”

Gojo perks up and finishes his final set of movements even faster. He throws his sword carelessly to the side, leaving a young squire scrambling to catch the priceless weapon as he strides towards you.

He’s a little sweaty. You want to wrap your arms around him anyways, but you restrain yourself.

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” you say.

Gojo grins at you. It’s a sharp thing, his smile, hungry and wolfish. “Not at all. I was just thinking of you, my lady.”

You tilt your head at him curiously.

Around you, the men are scrambling to line up into neat little rows.

“I’m picking a squire,” Gojo says. “Would you like to make the decision for me?”

It’s a question that shocks you. You whirl to look at him again, see if he’s joking like usual, but he seems perfectly serious. “I don’t know anything about knighthood,” you tell him the truth.

He moves closer. You’re tempted to step back immediately, but you don’t. You don’t want a sign of discomfort to be misinterpreted and used against him. Besides, you relish the proximity. Seeing Gojo in public feels like dancing on blades. The adrenaline terrifies you, but you can’t stop wanting more of it.

“You may not, but you know people. I trust your judgement.”

A cursory scan of the boys in front of you reveals little. They’re all stiff and proper, their backs as straight as they can make them. Some stand with their arms glued to their sides, others fidget with their swords. Every single one of them is eager for the chance to be acknowledged by the princess. They’re equally hopeful for the chance to squire for the greatest knight in the kingdom.

None of them catch your eye on the first or second passes.

Only on the third, a boy with pink hair smiles at you. It’s such a small gesture. But for a boy who had looked just like everyone else at first, the toothy smile splits his features. It opens him up. He looks kind.

You gesture him forward.

Lord Commander Yaga nods approvingly. “Itadori is a good one, Your Royal Highness. He’s one of the best in this batch. Naturally strong, but just as hardworking.”

“See,” Gojo says. “I knew you would choose well.”

He touches your hand briefly, slipping a white scrap of paper inside your closed fist before he grabs Itadori by the shoulder and hauls him off for further training. Although disappointed, the other squires still look starstruck to be in his presence, though Yaga disperses them all to train themselves soon enough.

In elegant cursive, Gojo has written a time and place.

You shouldn’t go.

You can’t risk it.

All eyes are on you and Gojo as it is. People already suspect the two of you of something unsavory. Courtly love is one thing, but you and Gojo are too close for an unmarried man and a woman. As a princess, your sole purpose is to marry well and bring alliances to your house. You can’t risk damaging your reputation.

But every stolen encounter with Gojo steals your breath away. You sneak through the halls, quiet and empty.

A hand slaps over your mouth before you can scream as someone tugs you into a dark corridor.

You kick and lash out, forgetting everything Gojo has taught you in favor of blind violence.

“Shh,” comes a voice in your ear. “It’s just me.”

You bite him.

He hisses and pulls back, shaking out his hand. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Why would you do that? You scared me!”

“You’re not careful enough, princess. There was a maid coming up on your left that you hadn’t even noticed.”

You sigh and lean into him. You can’t help it.

He laughs. “Are you that happy to see me?”

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll show you exactly how happy I am.”

“Come on,” he tugs you out towards the gardens. It’s dangerous, but you follow him anyway. Being with Gojo is so threatening not despite his strength, but because of it. You rely on him too easily, trusting him to see you safely through any peril. It’s easy to relax when he’s with you, his presence the promise of security.

You expect him to tell you why he called you here, but he’s silent when he tugs you down on the bench next to him.

“Gojo?”

“Here,” he says, opening his hands. A single crushed violet sits on his palm. You laugh, picking it up and raising to your eye. It’s all the more fragrant because it has been mangled, the delicate petals bruised.

Gojo’s mouth lifts in a smile, too. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t realize.”

“You really know how to win a girl’s heart,” you tease.

“Hopefully I know how to win over her father’s, too.”

You freeze.

“I’m sorry. I can’t wait any longer. I’m going to ask your father to be your dedicated knight tomorrow. Do I have your permission?”

You hesitate, worrying your lip with your teeth, but Gojo understands. Years of watching after you, bandaging your scrapes that you refuse to cry over or avenging your honor after you pretend your pride hasn’t been hurt has taught him a lot. He can see right through you. You never need to hide when you’re with him.

“It’s alright,” he says. “We can wait.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to be my guard,” you say in a small voice. “I just-”

“I know,” he says. “But I’m the strongest. Who else would your father ask to protect you but me?”

“Do you think he’ll say yes?”

Gojo looks at you seriously. “I’ll get down on both knees and beg him if I have to.”

“Don’t do that,” you gasp.

“I don’t care,” he says. “You’re what’s most important to me. More than pride, more than honor. Can I ask your father for you?”

You look at the crushed violet in your hand.

Who else but Gojo?

You press the flower back into his palm. “I trust you to do what’s right.”

His eyes soften. He leans closer.

“Gojo,” comes a voice. “What are you doing in the gardens this late at night?”

You stiffen. The owner of the voice is drawing closer.

“Do you trust me?” Gojo asks, as cool and collected as ever.

You nod, not trusting your voice not to give you away. He cups your face in his hands and ever so delicately presses a light kiss to your cheek, tilting his head towards you.

“Stop,” he tells the man behind you. “Don’t come any closer. You’ll scare her.”

“A new plaything?” Asks the Lord Commander. “I’m not so scary, am I?”

Gojo notices you tremble harder. He lifts a hand to the back of your head and presses it gently towards his shoulder, obscuring your face even further. “Come here, darling,” he murmurs. “That’s right, what a good little thing,” he says as you press yourself into him. He pulls you over his lap, your legs straddling his waist as he runs his hand up and down your back. “Keep your head down,” he whispers to you. You tuck your face farther into the crook of his neck.

Louder, he responds to Yaga. “The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard is a terrifying man, or so I’ve heard.”

“Just escort her to her room when you’re done,” Yaga says gruffly. “I don’t need to tell you to be a gentleman, do I?”

“No, sir,” Gojo says cheerfully.

In hindsight, you’re still not sure if Yaga recognized you or not. On one hand, he’s known you since you were a child. He watched, a silent guard, as your father raised you. On the other hand, he’s never brought it up to you.

The only other reason you suspect he realized who you really were was Gojo’s induction into the kingsguard the very next day.

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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thefiery-phoenix · 5 months

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Hello! Is it ok if I request Yandere headcanons for Gitae kim? It’s ok if you’re not ok with it! Also just wanted to say that I really love all your Yandere content!

YANDERE GITAE KIM HEADCANONS

Freaking hell, he creeps me TF out but why does he look so good, it's just unfair

Please, for the sake of your own sanity, RUN. Just RUN. That's it. Or at least, run as much as you can since he'll end up finding you anyway since he's the leader of a freaking Cartel and the son of Gapryong Kim after all and is a complete sadistic beast in the form of a man. It's rare that he would ever develop feelings for someone and even if he does, he'll be too egoistic and arrogant and proud to admit it, he'll treat you more like a pet of some sort to be precise. But you're HIS little pet, that he loves in his own dark twisted way. It doesn't matter how you meet this deranged flesh eating cannibal here, the second he sets his eyes on you and his mouth curves upwards into a smirk, that's when you're a goner and you might as well just kiss goodbye to your life and freedom

It was a usual day for you and you were walking back to your house after a long tiring day. You put on some earphones and walked down the alleyway, humming to your favorite tunes feeling the cool breeze against your skin. You tried to ignore the men lurking in the alleyway with beer bottles and cigarettes strewn on the ground as they looked drunk and intoxicated while their lecherous gazes landed on you, leering at you and making all sorts of lewd perverse comments about your body that made your skin crawl. You put your head down and didn't want to get into some kind of confrontation which was the last thing you wanted, when one of them ended up grabbing you by your wrist and you screeched on top of your lungs and thrashed around for all you were worth, pleading with them to let you go as tears streamed down your cheeks and your neatly combed hair was now frizzled and became unkempt with a few of your hair strands falling into your face. One of the men ended up striking you hard across your face as you whimpered in pain and clutched at your now stinging cheek and trembled. Before one of them was about to tear off your shirt, in the blink of an eye, the man's hand was now on the ground leaking crimson as the man screamed in agony and fear and you felt your heart stop beating when your gaze landed on a raven haired guy with blood splattered across his well toned muscular chest and had a black leather jacket with a cruel smile etched on his face as he watched the man fall to the ground, whimpering at the sight of his severed hand

What the man did next would remain ingrained into your memory forever. The stranger with the axe swung his axe around and the head of the man who'd been tormenting you now lay on the ground, his crimson blood painting the gravel of the ground crimson as he cut off a chunk of his flesh and bit into it and tore through the meat like an apex predator. At this point you didn't know if you were safe even after being supposedly saved by this man in front of you as his eyes landed on your whimpering and trembling figure and he smirked sadistically. "Relax little girl, I'm not going to eat you...unless you want me to'' he spoke as his eyes surveyed across your features. You reminded him of a scared vulnerable little prey, a weak little lamb that he could take advantage of and the mere thought of it just excited him as his eyes glinted with malice. Before he could even say something else, your fear consumed you and you ended up blacking out and losing your consciousness. You were about to pummel straight to the ground before he grabbed you by your waist and held you in his arms as he let out a soft chuckle, amused that you fell for him already which did give him a bit of an ego boost

You were so weak, so helpless and so fragile like a little doll that he would love to have in his grasp. He wonders how you'd react if you'd see him in his full glory while he beats up people and murders them on a usual day, you wouldn't even last a second without trembling and crying like the helpless little lamb that you were, which was cute in his opinion. "Looks like I'm takin' you home, eh?'' he said as he hoisted you over his shoulders like a sack of flour and fished out your ID to find your address and made his way to your house. You were quite surprised when you woke up the next day in your own bed and you felt your head was slightly groggy as you massaged your temples and sighed to yourself, secretly glad you were away from that cannibal. You made your way into the living room only to find the same guy napping on your couch, with blood still splattered over his chest as your eyes widened and your face paled and you let out a shrill screech of bloody murder. "Damn it woman...can't even let me nap after I saved you...'' grumbled the guy as he looked at you and his eyes narrowed slightly. He enjoyed watching you squirm and fidget nervously, he could see you were torn between trying to be a good host and thanking him for saving you yesterday to contemplating passing out again. "You know...I expect some sort of thanks from you little girl'' he said as he got up from your couch and strode over to you, his massive frame towering over your body as you gulped nervously

"I-I could give you money if you want...please don't kill me'' you whimpered. "Silly naive girl, who said I wanted your money...you're interesting...I'm keeping you with me'' he said with a smirk. You tried to make a run for it when he grabbed your hands and pinned your arms above your head and cooed at you condescendingly, "Well now that's just rude isn't it? You should thank your savior properly. Now don't make this hard for both of us...be a good little girl for your savior, would you?" he asked as he patted your cheek a few times and caressed your cheek as he lifted you in his arms yet again and you let out a nervous squeak. "Don't you think you should get to know me or something before you literally kidnap me?" you asked him as he looked at you with an amused smile on his face. "Plenty of time to do all that get to know you crap. I'm Gitae by the way since you're so insistent on introductions and crap and this isn't a kidnapping...I'm taking what's mine'' he said as he carried you out of your house

What he wants, he gets. That's it. He wasn't going to waste a single second without taking you back with him, of course, he could have kidnapped you in the night but the element of surprise was what made things more interesting for him. Your cute little reactions to whatever he did riled him up so much. No way was he going to let you go now. The next thing you knew, you were sitting in a black car with him next to you and a few other people who had tattoos as you couldn't believe what you'd gotten yourself into. You silently let tears stream down your face and you looked out the window. Gitae wrapped a black jacket around you since you were still in your night clothes as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer to him. Don't get fooled by his actions though, he's as unpredictable as the weather

If you thought Samuel or Eugene were messed up psychopaths, allow me to introduce you all to the poster boy of being a RED BANNER. He's obsessive, manipulative and won't hesitate to literally gaslight you. While he won't physically hurt you, the same cannot be said to those around you unfortunately. He wants your attention on him, he wants you to cling to his arm like the helpless little doll that you are and look at him with those wide eyes of yours, being all pliant and dependent on him. Whenever you squirm when he touches you he just finds it so amusing and cute, he can't help but put you on his lap when he has his meetings with the men from his cartel while you have a pink collar around you pretty little neck that has HIS name on it so people will know you belong to him. As if those love bites and hickeys on your neck, thighs and arms aren't a testament of you being his. He likes marking you wherever he can, you're his property, HIS doll. Of course, anyone who looks at you for a moment too long or if their gaze wanders to a certain part of your body that belongs to him, he's just going to gouge their eyes out like knife cutting through a slab of butter. And then he'd kiss you on your soft kissable lips possessively and aggressively like a dying man needing air, running his hands over your body till you're literally gasping for breath, in front of everyone else to show those losers that they won't ever be able to have you as their minds are now ingrained with the dire consequences of laying their eyes on Gitae Kim's girl

Whatever hopes you have of escaping from him, it's best to get it out of your mind before he ends up killing and eating one of your dear loved ones right in front of you. You're his little pet, he won't tolerate any form of disobedience from you and he'll tell you how it's your fault they're dead and it's all because you dared to leave him. Your punishment is getting handcuffed to the bed till you're allowed to walk. It's best to just accept his advances towards you because there is no escaping from this deranged psycho at all...

#yandere gitae kim #yandere gitae kim x reader #yandere gitae kim scenarios #yandere gitae kim oneshots #yandere gitae kim headcanons #yandere gitae kim x reader scenarios #yandere lookism x reader #yandere lookism characters x reader #yandere lookism characters #yandere lookism #dark lookism characters x reader #dark lookism characters #dark lookism x reader #dark lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism x reader #lookism

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astrologanize · 7 months

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pick a card : what making out with you feels like for them ᡣ𐭩…

could be someone you're already seeing or your future person, whatever it is...whoever you are asking about...this is what it feels like for them (: *please take a moment to take a deep breath and choose the image you are most drawn towards*

for pile 1 ✩˚

well, hello there. while trying to channel and synthesize this spread i thought about how this pile has something very instinctive going on within the makeout sessions, there's viscera, and cillian murphy came to mind somehow?? he does have a very mars look imo so maybe that's why, but it reminded me of a gif that i believe is from peaky blinders (never seen the show but i exist on tumblr so...) that i will add (it's a lil nsfw i guess?). anyhow. when it comes to your makeouts with this person, it feels like a nice balance of release and control for them because on one hand they do feel very disarmed while making out with you but at the same time they're acting deliberately - which is why instinct is coming through...it's like having a flow of reflexive movement. i'm not seeing you two going crazy and having vigorous kisses, there is a slowness to it, there's a building of inertia. making out with you makes them feel like their life is in their hands, their free will is palpably felt, and it brings out a sort of self-discipline in them

for pile 2 ✩˚

this person looooooves making out with you, they feel like they're having a movie moment when you guys are kissing, and the connection itself is what is at the forefront when they're kissing you. this seems like someone who hasn't had great experiences with romance and making out with you imbues them with so much hope. it's like if this person had a horribly messy breakup a couple years prior, they were with someone for quite a while and it ended up turning into a nightmare that left an ugly mark and they became jaded by it. making out with you feels like a rebirth - they don't feel afraid, they feel uninhibited, their cup is wonderfully full. they are not in the slightest bit doubtful of how they feel for you and they are certain that they want this; when they kiss you it will feel like a sweet plead - please love me back. there is no ego when it comes to kissing you because they are happily willing to give their all. making out with you does help them to move on from any residual gunk they've been dealing with

for pile 3 ✩˚

what is wanting to come through strongly is that this person is the one somehow taking the lead in the makeout session because when they're making out with you they feel firm, they feel empowered, they're like 'i got this'. lol...funnily enough though, whatever it is about making out with you...they don't expect it to go the way it does and it throws them off their game. something about making out with you is new for them, there's a notable oscillation happening within them, an internal battle of hot n cold energy. the makeout session itself won't be all over the place, once you start making out you guys just keep going at a constant and indefinite pace. this person is probably used to getting what they want/doing what they want/being reckless, this person is hardened - they keep their feelings in check and like being in control. & even though they feel in control while making out with you and do like feeling as such, there's something about making out with you that wakes them up and brings out a softer side. making out with you feels like a stream of consciousness for them

for pile 4 ✩˚

this is my fun makeout sesh pile 😛

what you guys say to each other before/during making out is being highlighted so maybe there's some steamy words being exchanged, some sweet talkin' perhaps. y'alls makeout session(s) involves experimenting, it's messy, it's sloppy, there's coloring outside the lines, it's an indulgence and you guys change things up during it. it does seem like this is more casual and that this person might be hesitant to take things further. this may be someone who is really attached to their independence and/or is perpetually single so even though they're having fun with it, they are holding back and not giving their all. making out with you is going to make them try to consider and factor feelings into the equation, they may just take the leap for once

love this song for pile 4

#pick a card #romance #relationships #Spotify

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the-monkeies-girl · 3 months

Text

The Grim Reaper. ( Noa x Human!Reader. ) Part Eleven.

the series is not done GUYS I PROMISE AND IM SO SORRY

Title: The Grim Reaper. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Sexual implications, injury, mentions of blood. ) Pairing: Noa x Human!Reader. Words: 8.5K+ ( it was previously 7.6 who the hell allowed this CHANGE ) Summary: Bargaining was always a great tool to use in the face of death. Meeting on the brink was less favorable. READ THE SERIES HERE.

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The ground was more fervently lush below your feet than you had ever experienced, letting your toes seep into the delectable grass that tickled between your toes. Such a strange and exhilarating feeling, so clean and incredibly simple but all you wanted to do was roll onto it and consume it with all your might. Crisp and cool, your body angling itself downwards so you could flush your hand against the tender landscape and like your feet that were planted, you wanted your fingers to do the same as you dug them in, getting a wonderful waft of nothing but Earth that catapulted your senses to the highest bid of Heaven that was imaginable, fathomable or even obtainable in the Human consciousness.

Drawing yourself into a small sigh, your gaze flittered across the leafy landscape and took in the minute details of the breeze pushing itself in and out of the the conifers that lined the meadow you were so familiar with, this time being coated with a honey sensation that made it feel like it was a hot afternoon but the atmosphere was only a notch above timid and wasn’t sticky or uncomfortable to exist in.

The mild rushing of water captivated you long enough to look in the direction of the moisture that suddenly enthralled your entire being. If your mind were able to race itself to the torrent of whitened water against the shoreline, you would but it felt like you were in a dream, the way your body brought itself back up and leveraged into the space it needed to consume, the way your feet that had been so deliciously dipped into the dirt below began moving, one step at a time until they all subsequently became one languid stride. You… You had been here before, this exact moment.

Noa… You wanted to cry upon seeing the blanketed nature of his fur, so enticing to grasp and hold onto in a desperate plea to keep you from floating off into a realm of the unknown. You had been here before, Noa… Had… His ears must have picked up on the twig that suddenly appeared below your right foot and despite already standing, it felt like you were just pushing yourself to do just that, your knees popping under your weight as you made a quickened dash towards him as he had himself situated at the embankment of the river you so often took pleasure and solace in together, deep in the trenches of acute conversations, lingering words that meant more than either party were willing to admit at the time. Yes… Yes. Yes…

Noa knew you would follow him in this moment, your lips parting as you came rounding the Ape who was crouched near the stream, his fingers dipping into the cold water and taking in notes of the way that the current felt between his fingers. “Have you felt it?”

That was your voice speaking but it didn't feel like your throat had vocalized anything as you bent down beside him, body movements not feeling like your own but you knew they were as you reached up and placed a hand against your jugular. Had you just spoken? You must have…Maybe you were just tired and things in the word you were around were sorrowed by the need to sleep in more, to pull yourself into the nest and tightly wrap yourself into the darkness of the animal pelts and rest until you felt better, until this innate sense of deja vu passed and left you feeling like a normal a whole person again.

Skin tearing itself apart on the surface as you rubbed his shoulder, his fur licking at your senses and driving them into slow and dashed overdrive, your mouth parting as if you knew what his answer was going to be because you did. You had been here before, this drip in the eternal stream that flowed so carelessly in front of you, never asking for anything in return, but always keeping blackmail in case it needed to hurt you.

Noa only tilted his head out of the corner of your eye, feigning ignorance to your inquiry. “Felt?”

“Romantic love.”

He was going to drag himself into contemplation as he enjoyed the water, Noa always falling into that line when you and he had these conversations of Echo behavior and Echo Logic. Even now, in the dream-like state, it needed to be the same, it always was the same… Would it… Make any difference now if he knew how much you loved him? Would it make him feel any differently towards you if he knew, if you told him and laid yourself out for rejection? Would it put him in a stupor of surprise, unknown territory that you both wanted to travel together no matter the outcome because the feeling had been silently acknowledged the last few times you had met? Would Noa feel feral with want, his eyes casting their beautiful green color that rivaled even the enviest of grass right along your jugular?

The Chimp would push away anyone from you he deemed a threat, he would tear their faces off, the pit of his stomach melting into aggravated and cruel dissatisfaction in himself for never saying the words in the first place, the first time that you had met here and the first time that the question you asked was posed. Noa’s fingers dug into the palm of his hands to distract himself from the idea that you did not feel the same way giving off the impression that having you so near was unfavorable. That your scent was not what he needed, that your Echoness… Was not what he wanted.

Would it… Lifting your hand up, you were surprised at the action in itself as you could have sworn this was just a dream, this was just a moment of recollection in extreme vividness and you should not have been able to move on your own. Lightly, your hand placed itself against the side of his face, heart racing with the knowledge that Noa was able to sense it through the bottoms of his flattened feet, through the subtle motion of your pulse against your wrist. Would it make him lose control? Bite my arm, you whispered to him and let your fingers sink into the fur that bordered his face, your hand heady with intent. Bite the space between my shoulder blades, please… Take me by the hair and make me mine, Noa… Noa…

The stares that he had given you for so long, finally being returned now as Noa turned his expression towards you, unbiased and willing to let you touch him for as long as you needed as if he himself were having a hard time telling if you were living in reality or not. Your stares towards him…They were always noticed, even when you tried to play coy. Breath hitching in your throat at the pure intensity that flurried like electricity was shooting between the two of you, Noa tilted his head with a bit more passion.

We are here… You and I, the motion said. Don’t leave now... No longer stretching out silent and afraid, you brought his face inwards, your feet tethering themselves dangerously close to the embankment, feeling the shift of loose gravel under you as you felt him loosen control of his body and Noa fell into the shallow water below where your fingers had briskly touched for the first time what seemed like years ago…

How you would follow him anywhere he went, your mind floated, flushing yourself against him as your thighs tucked near the sides of his pelvic bone, body ignoring the chill as the water rushed against Noa’s back, swimming his fur artistically around him like a small boat. It was crystal clear, shallow like a small puddle. Your wet hands planted themselves firmly on his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat under the pads of your fingers as you felt sheer satisfaction run wild in your nerves. His scar, the way that the fur tapered into his skin before flushing with coarseness. Bringing your lips down, you kissed it slowly, lingering and smothering to Noa who had nothing to hide anymore. Noa knew the answer now… Noa felt he always knew the answer… “Yes.” Tell me more, you thought to yourself and mimed his action when he reached to grasp one of your thighs to keep you situated on top of him, the hand on his chest trailing downwards, through the thinned nature of his waist and taking in any crevice you were able to feel under the thickets of fur that tastefully drenched his entire body, now wet from the stream, and without a conscious of its own. Like you had played with the small pebbles the first time, you were now catering your touch to Noa himself, his conscious thought reacting to even the smallest of grazes.

Noa moved himself, reaching his free hand from your body to rest on your face, his thumb swiping right under your eye and giving the impression of faux tears when he tore that away and brought it downwards to dip at your lips. Leathery skin caressed the smoothness, tracing the delicate lines and tugging on your bottom lip to get a glimpse at your blunted teeth.

“Have you…” That was said softer than he had meant, knowing what he was doing with his touch and having let it fester for so long, Noa wanted to take it in as slowly as possible to savor it in case it was a dream. Tongue peaked out for a moment as you licked the very tip of his thumb that lingered near your bottom lip, his eyes sharped at the sight and he raised his hips that were anchoring you to him. “Have you felt?”

A gasp exploded straight from the back of your throat at his motion, stirring you to grasp the fur near his navel in an attempt to riddle yourself of the feeling creeping around your thighs, the cloth of your pants sticking to your skin and traced with the current of water and Noa’s fur that was shuffling. Desperation ran rampant, you wanted to feel him, wanted to have him for yourself. You’d be the one to sink your teeth into Noa’s innocent neck, you’d be the one to hold him to you and protect with all your might and get him to say your name like a muffled chant.

Tracing downwards, you felt his hand at the base of your neck where your collarbones connect and instead of moving away as he would have done normally, Noa continued onwards down your white faded t-shirt and wet the fabric with enough moisture that it clung to your sunken skin to give him the faintest outline of your sternum and dip of your breasts. Breathing seemed impossible as you clutched him that much tighter, wanting nothing more than to shed your clothing, piece by terrible piece, just to feel how hot and hard he truly was against you, something that was explicit in only your dreams. You needed to touch him, hand racing itself between your legs to grasp. Just one more time. One more… One more…

One more… “Yes.”

There was a surged snap as you tore at the band around his waist without hesitation, watching as the lined twine ran with the current of the river, a sea of blue and white now encased with a piece of the Ape below you. It was not important to him any longer, both of Noa’s hands reaching up and grasping at your hips. Without hesitation as you had been when you touched his fingers the first time in the same water that was drenching you, Noa had you flipped and pushed into the sediment below, only your lower halves resting in the water now. The whiteness of your t-shirt were scorned with dirt and mud, Noa’s eyes able to see the pure outline of your chest and the pit in his stomach dropped even further than his diaphragm, closer to the primal intent and notions he had towards you that were kept under lock and key.

Noa’s hands adjusted your frame under him before he grasped at the dirt at either side of your head to keep him leveraged, your eyes capturing the way that the mud and pebbles slipped between his thick fingers in eager anticipation as you imagined him dragging mud along your entire being, encasing you in it and in turn, when you had his way with you, it would press imprints into his fur and you’d make him yours in return. You could hear the tingling of the dirt move as he sunk his claws in, driving his hips forward against your clothed lower body. Groaning wildly at that, you hands drove themselves into his forearms, straight to the skin and seemed to bi-pass any of his fur.

“How… Did it feel?”

Mouth dry, you brought your tongue out to wet them and slid your eyes shut as Noa placed a rather rhythmic pace of breathing above you, seeking to keep himself in a ration mindspace instead of tearing you apart as he so wanted to do in the moment that he had heard that delicious growl sprout from the back of your throat.

“It feels…”

Confusing, Noa would have guessed, dropping a hand as he kept himself from crushing you with one of his hands, a true and savory testament to the fact that he was incredibly strong and only chose to use it in the moments that he felt were needed and grasped the back of your neck to keep you comfortable. That was what you had said before when this conversation first took place. Confused, to which Noa repeated it and beckoned you silently to explain.

“Amazing.”

With your head tilted back in exaltation, Noa spurred himself downwards and with the help of his hand raising your neck in conjecture, his muzzle tickled at your throat. The lines of your jugular, always so far away from him, were suddenly so close… So near… Baring his teeth, Noa’s eyes slid shut, lids fluttering in exhilaration at the taste that exploded into his mouth. So sweaty like you had been nervous to see him, so tender like the most perfectly roasted Elk, so… so carnally sweet like he’d just picked himself a mango and tore into the pulp with his sharpened canines.

“A-Amazing…” It was your turn to repeat yourself as you arched against him, hands rising and grasping at the back of his neck to keep him smothered against him. “Noa…” He’d never heard his name so desperately said before, your mouth opening for him and only him as he intended.

Your legs tangled themselves around his waist to keep him leveraged against you as your hands tore into the fur of his taut neck, feeling the muscles shift under your touch with intense scrutiny. There was always that budding fear in your mind that he was able to crush you with one fist. That one hand was going to cause you to die. That you… Would let him, you thought and slid your eyes shut once more as Noa’s wrought hips connected to yours once more.

Your ribs could be crushed by his weight and you’d let him, your hands spiraling down and tightly affixing themselves into his shoulder blades. His hand could hold your entire neck and in one action of pleasure, he could take you out and you’d let him, knowing that you had died under his gaze, enough satisfaction to last more than one lifetime. Feelings you didn't know the reasons behind, touches you felt should have repulsed any other Human… But Noa… A groan escaped your lips again, only this one was harsher as you felt radiating notions of agony encasing your head, following down into your lungs like you were being drowned to death by the Ape above you. “I don’t want to leave…” You whispered, feeling a few tears hit the back of your eyelids at the lingering sensation of pain that started to dull itself along your splintering hairline. “Noa, I’m not ready…” Noa… only hushed you with a small seeth, as your neck was caressed and he brought your head head upwards to the point where he was able to press his forehead against yours, tendering and sealing with a promise that this moment was not just your imagination. He had brought you here, you had brought yourself here… Your solace, your friend, your words lingering in the universe and repeating themselves over and over again.

Love doesn’t need to be understood, love just needs to be embraced. And it was, you realized with ample eyes as flashes of white began hitting your irises. Embraced and then crumbling right before you with no tools to help you clean up afterwards. A chortled cry left your lips as you tried to cling to Noa, trying to hold onto some semblance of the moment to remember it as you were being viciously taken away. You… Didn't want to leave him… Your eyes squeezed shut in adamance. You couldn’t leave him. Your fingers felt tense in the fur you had made their home, your legs falling into the crashing water below and you were unable to move them, and upon inspection as your eyes drew from the soft familiarity of Noa’s face so near your own, you were seeing red. Red from the wounds on your calves, red on your hand as you drew it up to meet your gaze, from the ricocheting wound on his shoulder.

Noa… He was completely lifeless against you suddenly, your body taking the brute force of it and you were being suffocated without reserve. “N-No…” Crying, you tried to push him off of you so you could see his face again, but it was digging itself into the ground near the bend of your neck. There was no way you were getting out, no way to help him… “No! Don’t leave me please! Noa!”

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・ Soona could not get her breathing under control, rapid and condenced against her exploding diaphragm. She had counted everyone correctly, their familiar faces all washed with the pain and devastation that now radiated clearly through the crowd as they nestled themselves in the woods, far enough from the char of the village, but close enough to still hear the tumbling of the towers as they came crashing back down to the Earth that supplied their building material. Every crackle was accounted for, every sob and furled in Ape seen by Soona’s eyes. Anaya now being tendered to by another Female Ape who had some experience with injuries, not much as Soona herself was unfamiliar with most. The Eagle Clan--- She wanted to sob, they were peaceful, never had reason to fight or defend themselves, only having minute knowledge of how to take care of bodily injury that was often sustained during fishing, hunting or riding into new territory.

This… She looked over at her Sunset brother and racked her body with a shiver of the utmost devastation, ignoring the clinging of her other brother's blood against her palm. This was beyond any of them…. He had been bitten on the head by a blunt object, falling in and out of consciousness to the point where his words were slurred, Soona wanting him to say something sarcastic or funny in retort but garnered nothing. Soona and Dar were confident he would be alright, just needing to be cared for in the meantime.

Her green gaze looked at Anaya’s mouth, bloodied as the female with him began cleaning the iron redness away from his lips. He had… Taken an Echo life, the one of very few in the History of the Clan. She was morbid in thought, wondering what it must have felt like to kill such a threat, to succeed but could not bring herself to care anymore about that as she mentally drew on.

He… Would be alright… She told herself over and over again, looking down at the Master of the Birds himself as she had very narrowly managed to do as you had advised. Get the item out from his shoulder, a bullet you had called it.... His breathing was falling between rapid and shallow, Soona herself unsure of what that meant, either too fast or too deep. He… He had spoken nothing to her, not able to tear himself away from the nightmare Soona imagined was playing in his mind, over and over again. She couldn’t get it out of her mind, living not once, but twice through it. She knew nothing of bullets, these Echo Primal weapons that hurt with soot and explosions, not even sure what you meant until the casing came out, covered in soot and Noa’s blood, her fingers shaking as she brought it in to look at. Noa’s blood coated her fingertips, red like… Like the beginning of a sun set.It left a gaping wound there, Soona admiring the depth the projectice had gotten into him, into the dense muscles and shattering them into nothingness. Dar was pressing into it with a flooded piece of cloth, begging to her own Eagle that it was enough to stop the bleeding from a wound not inflicted from an arrow, from a spear or from a fist itself.

Glancing around at the chatter of the other Apes that were around in the woods, the dim fire light of the Clan’s demise was hard to ignore as ash began drizzling down upon then and coated their darkened fur with gray, coughs erupting as it hit inhaling lungs. Everything they… Noa, Anaya and Soona… Everything they had known was gone, soon to be blown by the wind into nothing but bitter memories remembered years from now.

The towering enclosures, so green and lush, laughter coming from every crevice their nests of familiarity, the steps towards the Eagle Enclosure that Soona and Anaya only traversed, never allowed to actually step into the enclosure itself as they were not an Elder or Noa themselves. She could remember how the wood thickets felt under her calloused touch as she and Anaya waited for Noa’s meetings to be over, to pester him about them to see if they could get any details out of him. She knew how it felt to have the gentle breeze pulling at her fur as Anaya chewed annoyingly on a mango right in her ear. While memories are put into her mind… The places themselves remained in nothing but dank ash and wood pieces that glowed ember. Everything Noa had built since his Father’s death… Gone. The only thing that remained were the Eagles and the Apes themselves, some of the feathery companions seeking comfort with their own Masters while others were sticking themselves around on their twig legs in a desperate attempt to find them in the chaos that was still raining down on them.

Eagle Sun himself was near, perched only a few meters away and observed. The devastation ran through him at the prospect of not having another Master. How could he when he had lost Koro and now a line was drawn in the said and he might lose Noa? Soona looked over her shoulder at him, having sensed his eyes on her back as she looked at the ballet once more. Such a small object able to inflict such rancid injury… Soona’s jaw tightened - They had done the best they could with the evacuation plan that Noa had set in place, one of the first things he had done when he returned from his journey to defeat Proximus and bring his Clan home. They had done the best they could but there was still substantial loss, not just in life, but not there was a glaring hole as to what they were meant to do next? Return to the grounds of which they were raised and see the devastation for themselves? Avoid it at all cost?

What if…--- Soona’s gaze fell down to Noa who was propped safely in his Mother’s lap, lapsing in moments of vividness of agonistic strenuous sounds coming from the back of his throat, Noa’s larg hands at his sides squeezing themselves into fists at Dar’s soft movements. His head being held so tenderly as she whispered to him, words Soona was unable to detect but no doubt they were words of encouragement to get him to wake, get him to stabilize and come back to her as she must have feared losing more than the rest of them. She tried to ignore that, her heart churning as Noa’s breathing turned languid, his ribs catching themselves on fire with every action. Dar figured that he had a few broken, in the dark of the night though, it was hard to deduce that for sure. Noa jerked - Suddenly and sharply, his entire body springing as if he had been poked directly in the middle of his foot by a sharp needle and it radiated pain throughout his entire body. Gasps were taken, hard and ragged as blood coughed out from his lungs, falling from his mouth and onto Dar who went to grasp him, to get him to lay back down.

Movement - She said calmly to her Son, it was only going to cause more problems but that didn't matter to Noa as his pupil blew eyes scattered across the scene. His heart felt like it would fall right out of his chest at that moment, trying to draw in another breath to keep himself stable but to no avail. It burned to the deepest core of him, his right shoulder exploding and yelling at him as he had moved so rapidly, the cloth that Dar had been using to help keep the injury sustained was lost in the shuffle as Noa tried to trudge himself to his feet as Soona grasped his good shoulder. “Noa! No! You---Need rest… Should not move!” She looked down desperately at Dar who raised herself to grasp her son's forearm and bring him down but he refused to love as his feet dug into the Earth below. The Clan, he could feel the redness under his eyelids from stress induced fighting. Noa felt the shift of the Earth between his toes at the longing notion that you had come to see him and come to bid him goodbye in order to save them all.

Moving his mouth to an open position, he rested his flocked gaze on the young Apes who were clinging so desp… Desperately to their Mother’s chest as the realization finally ran up to him and knocked him back down, Noa collapsed against his Mother with a fevered growl of pain that ran down his arms, that ran through his entire body and refused to relent any of the control it had on his senses. Noa wanted to roll into Dar at that moment, telling her that he needed her embrace, he needed her wisdom… Something to tear him out of the nightmare that was too close to his heart.

Blood shot eyes looked straight at Soona, the feral unable to read them for a split second as she felt a piece of her own self died. Noa… Was not there, or he was and he was so far gone in the throes of death itself that this was going to be the last moment she’d see the green in his eyes at all. “We… Got everyone out… Anaya is here, safe.” Soona’s voice was surprisingly calm despite the severity of Noa’s glance, the Ape momentarily squeezing them shut in a plea to get her out of his head and to stop answering the questions that were running through him. Too many to process, to many to remember in the hazed wake of injuries riddling his body and the suffocation that was taking place inside of his lungs. Noa wanted to wake up again in the meadow with you, near the water and take a long hard drink of both of you.

He--- There was no way he was not dead, at least for a brief moment as red flashed in front of his vision and he felt his equilibrium shatter,, agony tracing itself along the back of his skull and causing his neck to feel adversely stiff. Fingers felt hurt, dirt rising and falling into his already thick fingernails, his palms having inflicted a few sharp rocks against them nothing more than a tattered mess of cuts. Face was colored red from the vicious nature of cuts along the side of his right face, one under his left eye and a deep gash that rested on his chin, engraining itself into the fur of his beard.

There was no explanation for it, seeing you so close to him, having you hold him so tenderly at the moment where things started to go wrong, the both of you playing cards at the replay that should have been the way it went in reality. Noa reached out for it again, his hands shaking, one able to move with the use of his shoulder and the other lifeless to the drop of his fingers itself. He could not hold you even if you were here, but he’d will himself to try.

Noa--- Swore to the Eagles above, he would force himself even if it meant pulling himself through the coals. You were his and he was going to hold onto that for the rest of his life. But… For you to be there with him in that moment of tenderness, of unspoken want and attentiveness… Meant only one thing, Noa thought and tried to squeeze that out of his mind just long enough to get a proper status from Soona who had stopped speaking once she sensed that Noa wasn’t asking her to. “All…” Noa gritted his teeth together and felt Dar pressing her hand onto his head, something that even now, comforted him much like it did when he was only a young Chimp, “All destr-destroyed?”

“E-everything,” There was a loud sob behind her from one of the Chimpanzee families at the confirmation, followed by chattering as they began gossiping amongst themselves that Noa was alive but everything that had been rebuilt was dead. Dead, Noa repeated seeing your smile flash in front of his eyes. No… No. “Eagle Enclosure---”

Noa felt words were getting stuck in the back of his throat but he needed to--- He gasped… He needed to make sure that all he had built in his Father’s name was not lost. “All got out?” “Yes.” Soona’s voice was a cry of joy in the otherwise sullen situation.

Noa gritted his teeth again and nodded. Good. There was only one thing left he needed to ask, letting his eyes slide into Dar’s for a moment and sought intense solace in her touch on him as if she were preparing him for the worst of the news. Something she had to experience herself only a year and a half ago. “Al-All of the Echo’s?” Soona hesitated with her words, knowing it to be a loaded question even in her tired and frayed mind, “All of them?” Noa swallowed hard, regretting it the moment he set forth the action as his throat was incredibly dry and he felt the saliva lingering in his stomach like bile that began rising itself back up in anticipation of the answer, “Was---- Was.. M… My Echo… here?” Splitting his voice as it rested in a deeper baritone with the question, it was splattered with self-loathing if Noa dared suspect what he was thinking. He tried to ignore the way it felt to say, past tense. Yes… You were there, Noa had seen you with his own eyes, felt your touch and smelled your blood. You were there! For him… Kissing his forehead with your own… You were… Was… Were…Was… Soona only nodded, looking away and back towards the glow of the fire in the distance to confirm his suspicions. “Sh…” Sobbing slightly, Dar felt him shaking against him and gave Soona a warning glance. With his ribs in the state they were, they were more prone to damage if Noa moved too viciously as they could puncture his lungs or another organ. Soona looked right back at her, apologetic in her expression but she knew Noa just as well, he would not stop asking, he would not stop obsessing unless she gave him the answers to the questions he was asking with his mouth and with his mind. Better to rip this off now even though he was injured, Soona thought, and if he felt the urge to meet you wherever you had grasped him and beckoned him, then that was up to Noa himself. “Have sent two Apes to get her,” Soona explained softly, hunching in on herself and scooting towards her friend, “Could… not get close enough, the fire…” “Send me.” “Noa-” “SEND ME.” His voice ran through the entire group of Apes that were around, heightened silence following as everyone looked towards the tone of Noa. Eyes upon eyes that matched, all on him. Noa didn't care if they were. They could stare holes into him until he brought his bloodied body next to your own so he could grasp at your hair, bringing your forehead to his once more. Where you belonged, where he belonged.

“She is dead.”

Dar said to the Ape she had her grasp on, feeling Noa stiffen more and more with each word. He didn't blink as he rose his eyes upwards towards Eagle Sun who had been intent on watching his Master’s every move with baited breath, waiting for a command, waiting for a purpose. Stagnant, Dar looked at the side of her Son’s face, so familiar to her in the moment but so far in his gaze as he stared off into nothing, repeating over and over again the three words she just spoke to him, the first three she had spoken to him. Not dead, impossible, he uttered inside of his mind. He… Noa’s mouth fell open in a silent plea. “Saw… her…” “My Son…” There was lingering assurance in Dar’s voice as she tried to display for him the power that he was going to need to overcome this, having done just that when Koro was taken from her. Nipped in the bud for her child, never coming to fruition but the pain itself was unbearable and there was nothing she knew could be done as he reached up and grabbed the forearm she had around him, so tightly that Noa felt he was going to pull the fur straight out from her skin. Dar let it sink in, holding onto him all that tighter. “I---” Harshly, Noa pulled himself away from the confines he loved so deeply and splattered himself onto the ground, straight on his face without time to even catch himself. Enjoying the sediment in his mouth as it seemed to alighten his senses, Noa lifted himself up onto his one good arm and staggered artistically to his feet, his balance unequivocal and unmatched, fire scathing through his blood.

“I SAW HER.” Crying out, he gestured his one good arm towards the general direction of the stream from the flooded vision he had of you still seering into his retinas. Every touch lighting him on ablaze, sending skyrockets down his spine at the idea that he was about to take you as his own and you were going to let him, exaltations being breathed against Noa’s face, against his neck as you pleaded with your body.

Take me, take me… Never once did he think about it being towards death itself, your body pleading for it to take you away. Never once, it was only meant for Noa. There was no way you were gone, Noa laughed bitterly to himself and felt his head tip backwards. No, no no… The way that your hands felt in his fur were too real, the way that your words felt to him, driving down the deepest parts of his mind. No--- Noa laughed for only a second before he drew his face into a flattened stance. You were not dead, he decided. You could not be dead witho--- Without saying goodbye to him!

“I fe--- felt her… Touching… Water… Under…me….” Coherency was lost as Noa stumbled to find the words to say, or to even sign but nothing made sense anymore. Nothing without you… Made sense. Without reserve, Noa roared your name in hopes that you were able to hear him in the bitter darkness encased with oranges and flurrying snowflakes of ash. Noa whimpered.

He needed you to hear him.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・

Noa had been watching you for what felt like days upon days, but that’s how it felt now when he drew his attention towards you. Things slowed down so he could start to take in the more minute details about you that he hadn’t thought about beforehand. The way that you talked to him, the way that your body held itself next to him all spoke to Noa of how you were getting more comfortable, more accepting of the Clan…Of… Of him.

The way that the fire you were perched in front of played against your face, casting shadows along your nose and along the curves of your lips pulled his body towards your own, the shuffling of the cloak and the beating of the necklaces against his chest all amplified at how you smiled towards Soona who had give you a wave, followed by you throwing your head back in a laugh when Anaya came tumbling up to her and almost tackled her to the ground. Noa paused then to catch the pulsation of your heartbeat against the delicate nature of your neck.

The ceremony ended in success, Noa having gotten the approval he so sought from his Father, from his Mother and from the Elders. A new generation of Apes, Noa looked over at them as they chatted amongst each other about their eggs, about what their bird might look like and what temperament they might have, bonded and secured with one of the companions that would see them through life. Next ceremony for them would be the Mating prospect, something that lingered in even Noa’s mind as he was rounding that age and got consistently pestered from the Elders regarding.

Noa listened to their praises, to his Mother as she drew him in and placed his forehead against her own, telling her son how proud she was and how proud she knew his Father would be of the Ape he had grown into. He listened, but he did not care to linger as you were like gravity itself, circling him in. He did not care to let them talk about his life and what they wanted from him as he knew you never did that. You--- Noa shuffled himself near the log you were sitting on. You were open and accepting to him it seemed, not just the Master of the Birds, not just the Leader of the Clan, but just… Noa. And something deep inside of him awakened and wanted to know why.

“Should join.” The Chimp urged, watching as you jumped. His look was apologetic as he took the seat next to you, knowing he must have scared you to garner that sort of reaction as your breathing picked up and you placed a hand against your chest, Noa captivated by that movement and how inherently Echo--- No… He corrected himself with a tilt of his head, how inherently you it was.

Feeling your heart now resting in the back of your throat and knowing no amount of swallowing was going to help, you looked up at Soona as she was adorned with a feather in a twined headdress that was tangled delicately with turquoise beads, metallic cloves and smoothed pebbled and hollowed beads. All the colors that rested in the orange and tan twine of the headdress right at the top base of her ear were brilliant, the tracing of feathers around the back of her head so enticing as it looked like a crown from a faded children's book you used to have before the pages fell out. She was beautiful, radiating with color against your eyes as the communal bonfire shone brilliantly against her fur and gave the appearance of being dipped in delicious honey.

“Bond ceremony… Very important to the young Apes. Coming of Age. Ape… Share our feathers with each other, bond to the Eagle Clan.”

Parted lips seemed to echo his words as you were processing them, urging yourself to say something in return but you were remarked by how all of the Apes in the area were wearing similar headdresses, female and male. You drew your attention to Anaya’s. Structurally the same to Soona’s, gray, black and blue feathers lining the round of his head as he held a bundle of the feathers, freshly preened, in his fist to give to his fellow Apes.

“The ceremony was beautiful,” You complimented Noa with a soft smile, Noa himself throwing caution to the wind and listened to your praises as they meant more to him now than ever before, “I had to have Soona explain what was happening but it--- It was so beautiful, you were---”

Tapering softly, you drew your bottom lip in and chewed it viciously. When it was brought back to light and covered in your saliva, Noa felt a lick of temptation to bring his mouth down upon it. “You-you were great.”

Mentally, you felt like beating yourself at the notion that you had been conditioned your entire life to think that they were savages with no culture, no sense of self or worth outside of killing Humans. But this entire display, from the powerful stance of Noa himself as he talked to the young Apes embarking on the most important aspect of their lives, so careful and gentle as he knew how important it was, having to feel the heavy crown his Father gave him upon death as your eyes skidded towards his own adornment of feathers along his skull. More than Anaya and Soona, you noted, fluttered and soft to the touch, you wanted to reach up and drag your fingers through just to test if he’d let you that close.

From the closeness he had to you, seated, you were able to see the pull and push of his breathing, feeling it against your face as you admired the art and sacred nature of his headdress. It… Was beautiful… Noa…

Your gaze dropped into his own for a moment, the heat of the fire you were resting near the only excuse you had for the grazing of red that catapulted against your cheeks. Noa was too. The sweeping lines of wrinkles that took over under his eyes, happy little dances downwards towards his minorly hollowed cheeks, the ajar stance his mouth had giving you the most vicious view of only his canines as you imagined them sinking into you, wondering if it felt better to just succumb than to pretend that things hadn’t been changing, the way that his fur was whitened around his mouth and under his bottom lip and got darker around the edges of his face.

You hadn’t thought it to yourself, but you supposed this was the first time that you had been this close to him in a more intimate setting, opting to keep distance on the table as a means of not getting too emotionally attached. But, it was so hard when he looked at you like that, your head tilting and pouring your eyes into his golden, green and hazeled stance that was unwavering. Noa was striking and he deserved praise, if only you were willing to be strong enough to give it.

A screech startled you as Eagle Sun, having sensed the very conversation previously talked about, came and bid you welcome, jumping onto the ground between your legs and moving forward with a few bounces. You smiled at him, pressing a tender ‘hello’ to his beak which Noa watched with heightened interest, mild jealousy seeping at the idea that you were so willing to touch his feathery companion but always showed such reserve when you were around him. Avoiding flurried eye contact, Noa sought yours in those moments and yearned for you to return but you were not allowing yourself to do it any longer, the sensation of your heart too heavy in your chest and noticeable to Noa as he firmly had his feet planted on the ground.

“This is…” You whispered, shamefully as you drew your hand back inwards to tightly hold yourself. Feeling the feathers of the cloak that Noa was dressed in, having just commenced and finished the ceremony himself, came to rest next to you out of all people instead of taking in the celebrations with his own. You knew this behavior from him was a way of getting himself to open up to you, to learn more about the Apes so you did not fear them.

But, somewhere along the way, the fear that you held and the animosity that always bubbled right under the surface turned into adoration and admiring. How you looked at Noa as he explained things to you that you did not understand, how you wanted him to hold your hand and drag you along with him, your fingers twitching in eagerness to hold onto his grip and never let go. Drawing your knees in, you looked down at them and shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t think I should be a part of it. I’m still just a human.”

Echo, Noa whispered inside of his mouth and let his gaze flicker along the side of your face as you pretended to be interested in the fire as a means to avoid eye contact. Sure… Echo only in appearance, Noa wanted to tell you and give you reassurance but he was afraid to fall over that threshold by being too bold.

Sure, Echo only in some aspects like privacy, still a strange concept to the Ape who had walked in on you dressing once and proceeded to get yelled at. Noa only regretted it for a moment though, thinking about it now as he was able to still spot in his memories the way your flesh looked in the fire light, the urge to see it again incredibly great as he nodded in understanding. Glancing down at his hand, Noa shoved the headpiece he had for you back into the sack around his waist and instead opted to raise a blue feather from Eagle Sun himself right into your vision.

Staring at it, almost cross-eyed, your lips parted in question but before you were able to say anything, Noa muttered to you, “Something… thing to remember… first ceremony with the Eagle Clan.” “Noa, I’m not a part of the Cla---” The Chimp was adamant, grasping your hand tightly into his own, your skin seemingly falling to pieces at this as he had never touched you with such intended force and for a second, you thought that he was going to break your hand. Swallowing lightly, you looked down at the contact that was made, Noa sensing your sudden instinct to fight and loosened up a bit before he brought the feather down into your forced open palm. “Please.” An invisible gasp left your lips at that as you only nodded silently, Noa’s hand hesitantly moving away from yours as he brought himself to his feet, knowing he needed to mingle with the other Apes and not spend his entire night dotting with you. Noa would though… Without hesitation, the thought ran rampant in his mind and for the second time that evening, your eyes met and Noa felt that same pull that dragged him over here in the first place. The scope of his entire body was laid in front of you. The swagger of his stance, so strong and sweeping with confidence that your words had brought him, his shoulder dressed with such beautiful detailing, years and generations of Apes history in every feather. You scooted your glance down to the feather in your hand and then back upwards to Noa, your expression telling him you were undeserving, you were not worthy of his kindness towards you, things should have never ended up this way. Noa looked down at you with eagerness to see you swallow the feather in your grasp as a form of acceptance.

If you accepted this… Noa’s heart raced as he brought his feet inward a bit to help you, fingers barely tickling along your knuckles to tell you to close your hand. If you accepted this, Noa could go after you. Noa could give any excuse in the book to the Elders that you were just as deserving as any other Female Ape that wanted his attention, that sought to be the future with him. His hand was hot and heady against your clammy fingers as you drew them in. Slowly, not breaking the eye contact that he was sure to keep stable with the flickering intent that was resting behind them. Silence but deathly in its grasp. “T-Thank you.” You barely managed to whisper with a choked cry, “I- N-never thought I’d… find….” Noa drew a deep breath in and held your hand tightly in his own, “Will always be a part of the Eagle Clan. You are free to do as you wish here. Find family… Friends, a life. May even find….” You rested on the contact he had with your body and swallowed lightly, “Find what?” “Mate. We all find one… Someday.”

Maybe not now, maybe we’re not ready, he told you quietly with his touch, desperate that his thoughts were getting across to you. We’ll fly around this, we’ll find our way back to each other if we get separated, Echo and Human. I do not understand you, you do not understand me but there is something more here, something that needs to be brought to warmth and comfort to be hatched. Feathers of a bird.

Noa smiled at you with a small huff escaping from his nose, your eyes watching his nostrils flare and settle with acute attention to how he moved, genuine for the first time and before you could say anything else to him, he was gone as you opened your hand once more and peered longingly at the feather.

Blue, special from Eagle Sun’s underwing that you enjoyed preening. Blue. You looked at the back of Noa’s head at an adjoining and matching feather. Bringing it upwards to your lips, you lightly pressed a kiss to the item and tucked it behind your ear in a silent ceremony of your own.

If he would accept you here, as you were, you’d be more than willing... You would become a part of the Eagle Clan.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・ TAG LIST: @ohwaitimthewriter @hera-annwn @saturnnie-03 @filliandkili @hadesbabygurl @supergoat12 @moonchild1433

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#noa #noa x reader #pota #planet of the apes #planet of the apes x reader #noa x human reader #mae #proximus caesar #fanfiction #fanfic #emmy writes

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impale-me-radio-daddy · 4 months

Text

The Lookalike (Epilogue, Acknowledgments and Requests)

☒ Summary: The first thing you remembered after your death was an argument. “No, this isn’t one of my fucking sluts.” The man behind you exhaled, frustrated. “This is a present for you. Something to help you work through your Alastor fixation.” You awakened in Hell as the near-spitting image of a certain infamous radio host. Unfortunately for you, you immediately fell into the clutches of his nemesis, before stumbling into the arms of the Radio Demon himself. A whole lot of fucking later, you became the catalyst for something resembling a reconciliation, and now you're back in the TV Demon's private quarters with both Vox and Alastor, hung over and sore.

☒ Warnings: hermaphrodite!reader, deer!reader, they/them pronouns used, explicit sexual content, Vox X reader, Alastor X reader, Vox X Alastor, reader is in Hell for a reason, Valentino, canon typical scenarios.

☒ Series Links: Now completed! Part I Part2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 6 BONUS SCENE Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

The thing about Hell was that your internal body clock woke you after only a couple hours of sleep, just enough of the alcohol out of your system that your head throbbed and the rich bittersweet taste of last night’s whiskey had been transmuted with the alchemy of the morning after, the interior of your mouth now tasting of rancid orange peel and dirt. You lay splayed across the couch, Alastor’s tailcoat covering your nakedness, its red unmarred by the blood it had soaked up, your head in Alastor’s lap, your hooves in Vox’s lap.

Consciousness brought with it the awareness of the various injuries you had acquired, the fullness of your bladder, and the generalized muscular ache that was probably from all the wall-climbing you’d done. You were also filthy, your whole body faintly sticky like a budding rhododendron. You moved to get up, but found Alastor’s arm around you.

“-very dear to me,” mumbled Alastor, the radio filter almost entirely missing from his hoarse, sleepy voice, and his claws wrapped around your shoulder, hard.

“Darling. I have to piss,” you croaked, stroking Alastor’s fingers, and he gave a noise of irritation, his red eyes opening a fraction, but his grip loosened and you pulled yourself free.

Brushing away Alastor’s shadow’s hand as it snagged at your hoof, you staggered naked across Vox’s small living space, to where you remembered the bathroom to be, and took a piss that felt like it lasted at least a minute and a half, your head throbbing all the while. The things that Vox had brought for you during your short stay were still there; the little blue toothbrush, the showercap with room for your ears, the robe.

You brushed your teeth, drank several cups of water from the tap, and ate a Tylenol before grabbing the bottle of deer shampoo from the cabinet and stepping into the shower.

Vox’s shower was large, enough to comfortably fit three or more people, the flooring some kind of expensive looking stone tiling that was probably fiendishly difficult to get blood out of, and the showerheads set at chest height. You hesitated at the shower controls- which button turned the water on, again?

“You, uh- you want some help with that?” Vox stood at the entryway to the shower, wearing only pants and looking pretty much exactly like you felt.

“Sure,” you sighed, not really surprised when Vox stripped off the rest of the way and stepped into the space with you.

A gesture from him was all it took for the water to start running, no uncomfortably hot or cold initial flow but something close to body temperature. You stepped into the stream, sighing as it hit you, the water swirling a brownish color around your feet as it began to wash away the blood that had caked onto your skin.

“Temperature?” Vox asked, stepping closer.

“Warmer,” you said, an involuntary noise in your throat as Vox made it so. It stung the lacerations on your back, the small wounds on your hips and thighs, the scrapes that Alastor’s teeth had made on your neck.

“You like that?” Vox asked.

“Warmer,” you repeated, and the temperature rose to something crueler, enough that steam rose as it hit your skin, a truly scouring sort of heat. You felt your soreness recede, a little of the tension in your shoulders relaxing. “There,” you said, content to stand under the water for a few moments before uncapping the shampoo you had brought in with you.

“Let me?” Vox asked, and there was a little of the Vox who had sat in the armchair in your bedroom in his voice, pleading. You handed him the bottle, and he unhooked a second showerhead from the wall and turned it on, wetting your hair with a trickle of warm water before he lathered shampoo between his palms. It was strange; anyone else save Alastor and you might’ve had second thoughts, but Vox had had you last night, quivering and vulnerable in his hands, so you had no qualms turning your back to him.

Vox’s hands in your hair were a gift. You stood under the stream of near-scalding water as he drew close, his fingers running from the back of your neck and up, fingers parting your hair, massaging the lather into your skull. You groaned low as he worked the base of each ear, his body pressing closer to your back. He was hard, his cock brushing up against your tail and the small of your back, but there was no threat to it, no intent beyond simple closeness.

“That good, eh?” he asked, as you gave another appreciative grunt, and you braced yourself against the wall to avoid melting completely under the touch.

“You’re making me forget about my headache,” you said, which was rewarded by Vox pressing his fingers more firmly against your skull, more head massage than shampoo application. “Don’t you have things to do?”

“It is five fuckin’ thirty am,” said Vox, his voice thick and hoarse, and he leaned into you, his chest pressing warm against your narrow back, his erection squashing temptingly against the meat of your ass. “I’m all yours, baby deer.”

It would be so easy to let him fuck you like this- even as hungover as he clearly was, he was strong enough to lift you against the wall of the shower and fuck you against it until you were whimpering and quivering, your orgasm smoothing the edges of this rough and difficult morning. It would feel good.

But no. No fucking. Only Vox’s soapy hands in your hair, rubbing your back-tilted ears until you wanted to purr, his thumbs experimental around the base of your antlers. He told you to close your eyes before he raised the spare showerhead to rinse you off, the water dark, even the soap bubbles brownish as the blood was sluiced away. Vox repeated the process twice more before the water ran clear, finger combing your hair to check for errant viscera.

“I don’t need you to wash my back for me, you know,” you said, as Vox put the shampoo aside and reached for the bodywash.

“Course you don’t,” he said, eyes narrowed, and for a second his grin reminded you of Alastor’s. “But you fuckin’ like it, don’t you? You like my hands-” he said, rubbing soap into your flank, then tracing a line down, over your thigh. “My mouth.”

You opened one eye. “I hope you’re not proposing to lick me clean.”

The glazed expression on Vox’s face, along with the way his antennae flopped, told you that yes, yes he would very much like that, his gaze drifting to between your thighs, the faint trickle of Alastor’s cum mixed with his as it leaked out of you and mixed with the water from the shower.

Vox swallowed. “Please,” he groaned. “Fuck, please, baby deer. Just a little. Don’t make me fuckin’ beg.”

“I’m not making you do anything, Vox,” you said, a sidelong look at him. The steam from the shower was fogging his screen, droplets of the splashback running down the front of his wide face like sweat, and his eyes were wide. “You’re begging of your own accord.”

You put your palm on Vox’s grey-skinned shoulder and pushed him down. He sank to his knees, obedient, the water on your back slowing to a trickle, still under his control. His eyes weren’t hearts but they might as well have been with the expression he made as he reached out to touch your thighs, pulling his face close to your legs, his long blue tongue extending.

Vox’s tongue against wet skin was a new sensation; a crackling pressure that conducted over a wider area than his tongue touched as he lapped blissfully at the rivulets of diluted cum that ran out of you. You shivered, and breathed in as you watched him eat, running a hand over the top of his screen, your claws gentle on the fragile antennae that sprouted from it.

Vox whimpered as you held the tip of his antennae between thumb and fingertip, and it occurred to you, belatedly, that maybe these were analogous to antlers for him. You stopped touching them, returning to stroking his frame. His hand found yours, your fingers twining, and you knew that if you asked him he would fuck you with his tongue, lap every last drop of Alastor’s seed from your aching cunt and drink it down like a man starved.

“Please-” he whined, looking up at you between strokes of his tongue.

“You know,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Alastor has very sharp hearing, and he was mostly awake when I got up. He can definitely hear us right now.” You paused to take a breath as you felt Vox freeze, his tongue still on your thigh. “He definitely heard you begging me to let you lick his cum from my legs.”

Vox’s eyes fluttered closed, a low groan in his throat. “Fuck.”

“Tell me,” you said, pushing him a little as his tongue swept up your leg, perilously close to your sex. “Tell me what you’re begging for now.”

Vox’s voice came as a stream of consciousness as you squeezed the top of his screen, hard enough that colors distorted around the pads of your fingers, his breath in gasps as he tasted you between each word, a prayer to you, a prayer to Alastor. “Fuck, yes, please, I fucking want it, oh god, fucking god, let me, let me, please please, let me taste him. I wanna taste him in your pussy, oh god.” He swallowed, whimpering, cock finding friction against your leg, and he trembled. “God-” Vox’s eyes sprang open as he came, his body jerking as he shot his load over your hooves. “Fuck-” he breathed, softly, his screen tilting against your thigh.

You were gentle with him as you pulled him to his feet, letting him lean against you as he came down from his high. You rubbed his back, his shoulders, and the edges of his screen, eliciting soft groans from him, and he nudged his face into your shoulder before you grabbed the soap and started to lather it into his chest.

As if realizing where he was, Vox started the water running at full pressure again. When you had finished him he washed your back for you without complaint, merely a pleading look in his eyes as he scrubbed you down, the runoff going from dark brown to pink as the ablution opened a few of your newer injuries, his hands gentle enough on you to make you sigh and forget your hangover for another few seconds.

When you emerged from the bathroom, toweled dry and dressed in the monogrammed robe Vox had kept for you, you felt almost alive.

“You were in there a while,” Alastor commented from the couch as you emerged, one eye opening, his voice rough and crackling like old vinyl.

“You didn’t want to join us?” you asked, squeezing a little more moisture from your hair.

Alastor shrugged, his lips a tiny smirk. “You seemed to have everything under control,” he said, a statement not lost on Vox, who did not meet his eyes.

Vox’s arm was protective round your waist, or perhaps simply clingy, as the three of you proceeded out of his quarters and into the living area he shared with the other members of his coterie. You sat at the breakfast bar as Vox operated what was perhaps the most complicated coffee machine you had ever seen. Alastor took a seat at the breakfast bar too, his tailcoat on, overdressed compared to you in a robe and Vox in his lounge pants and t-shirt. Alastor’s shadow looked more hung over than he was, sulking in a pool by his feet and clutching its head. Vox seemed to have some level of sympathy for his condition, because he turned to Alastor first.

“So, Al, you want anything? This baby makes a mean fuckin’ macchiato, I’ll tell you that much. We’ve got three types of coffee, too, a Columbian-”

“Coffee,” said Alastor, a grinding edge of almost mechanical stress to his voice. “Make me a coffee.”

Vox sighed. “Americano it is,” he said, setting the machine running with a cheerful beep as he manipulated his way through the menus.

Alastor was sniffing his americano and the expensive looking machine was grinding something in its innards when the door on the lower level opened and a small group of people came in, clearly still mid revelry, brightly colored plastic drink containers in hand. You recognized one of them as the man who had dumped you on Vox’s bedroom floor on your first night in Hell, dressed to the nines in patent leather thigh high boots and a naked effect body-stocking with red sequins that barely covered the essentials. Valentino.

“Ah.” Vox froze with one hand on the coffee machine. “Fuck.”

“Vox?” Valentino’s tone was disbelieving, and he sashayed up the stairs to the breakfast bar to stare at the three of you, lowering his pink glasses dramatically. “What the fuck is this?”

“Val.” Vox hopped the breakfast bar with surprising alacrity, placing himself bodily between you and Valentino, his hands up in a placating gesture. It was unnecessary, all things considered, but sexy. “I can explain.”

Alastor, meanwhile, lowered his ears and hid his face behind his fuck Alastor mug, clearly uncomfortable at being witnessed in Vox’s residence at such an early hour.

“So this is where you’ve been?” Valentino gesticulated. “You don’t take my calls, you say you don’t wanna party with me, all so you can stay home and jerk off onto your pile of Alastor lookalikes?” He turned to Alastor, the real Alastor, his eyes squinting behind his pink glasses. “Where did you even get this one? He looks like shit!”

“Gotta agree with you there,” you deadpanned. “Not a word of English either.”

“Bonjou,” said Alastor, gamely, his voice gruff with the full impact of his night of drinking, his radio filter completely absent.

“You see?” Valentino waved. “You want more Alastors, chulo, you come to me. None of this amateur hour carajo.” He shook his head. “Me and these professionals are going to my room.”

“Val, wait-” Vox called, but Valentino was already on his way out. He stopped, perhaps realizing the futility of it, and rubbed the front of his face with his hand. “Fuck.”

“Is that-” you watched Valentino walk out, shooing the squad of sex workers through the door ahead of him so that he could slam it. “-is that gonna be okay?”

“Fuck knows.” Vox’s shoulders sank, and he walked back to the coffee machine. “It’s hard to tell what he wants sometimes. I mean, first he gives me you, then he’s pissy I’m spending time with you. Does he want me to chase after him? I don’t fucking know anymore.” The machine finished making your drink, and Vox picked it up, vanishing in electricity and arcing to appear behind you. “I know what you want, though,” he purred, his face close enough to your back that the hairs on your neck stood on end, and pushed your coffee in front of you.

You turned your head to grin at him, eyes half-lidded. “A full and unredacted list of the members of my fanclub still extant in Hell?”

“Fuck.” Vox’s expression soured, and he leaned back. “You're all business, aren't you? You know, I preferred it when you were pretending to be stupid.”

“And I preferred it when you had your tongue up my ass,” you said, enjoying the instant of startlement and arousal that flashed across his screen, Alastor smirking into his cup of coffee behind him. “I guess we’re just not our best selves this morning.”

“I liked that too, but I can't just hand you those names, baby deer,” said Vox, leaning on the breakfast bar beside you. “That's not how business works around here. It's about trust.”

“He’s lying,” Alastor interjected, mildly. “He could give you whatever it is you’re talking about, he just doesn’t want to.”

“Oh, butt out, Al,” groused Vox. “I’m not lying. There’s a cost.”

“One which you could well afford to waive,” said Alastor, smiling. “Given our situation.”

“Yeah, and what situation is that?” Vox shot.

He was unprepared as Alastor stood, closing the distance between them and seizing Vox by the front of his shirt, bringing their faces close, not quite touching, but close enough to kiss, or bite. Vox made a noise in his throat, and Alastor grinned, violence in his teeth.

“If you want this to continue,” said Alastor, his voice low menace. “You’re going to have to give our delightful young friend here everything they want. I don’t care what it is, I don’t care what it costs you. Everything.”

“Fuck,” Vox croaked, his eyes wide.

“Well?” said Alastor. “Do we have a deal?”

“This isn’t fair, Al.”

Alastor’s grin was steady. “These things rarely are. Yes or no, old pal?”

“Shit, I’m such a fucking idiot.” Vox closed his eyes. “Yes.”

Alastor set Vox down gently, a sly wink to you as he did so, then stalked his way over to you, taking a small sip from your coffee cup before winding an arm around your waist and burying his face in your hair.

Vox looked at the both of you with something approaching dismay. “He likes you way too much, baby deer,” he said, shaking his head. “Way, way too much.”

Alastor just laughed, his nose pressing against your neck.

The following list is all of the people without whom this work would not exist in its present form; who cheered for me, who reassured me, who pointed out where my phrasing was awkward, and all in all encouraged me to go the whole hog and not just the tip. Thank you for putting up with me and my incessant self-aggrandizing wank and telling me, each in your own way, that the dog exploded.

Bapple Fraugwinska Macabre Barbie Miggy Katethulu Rein Miz blue Molly Anne

The others in the discord server for whom I do not have an ao3 or tumblr account

Special thanks to Shunypie/Shunyhuny who drew fanart (holy shit I am still absolutely fucking floored by this, it's so beautiful)

My final acknowledgment goes to everyone else who read this and thought it was hot, love you guys. Your comments feed me, your likes sustain me.

Though my planned procession of porn is past its climax, I am still open to penning vignettes about the lookalike and set in the lookalike’s timeline. If you have an idea or request, please post a comment here, or if you fancy remaining anonymous, you can use my inbox at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/impale-me-radio-daddy

Regretfully, I do not take commissions (I can’t think of an amount of money that would be worth the expression of confusion and fear from my accountant) so all requests will be undertaken at my own discretion.

Until next time, dear readers.

#lookalikeposting #vox x reader #hazbin x reader #vox x y/n #vox x reader x alastor #voxal #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor x reader #alastor x vox #vox smut #vox x alastor #vox x you #vox x oc #alastor x oc #alastor x reader smut

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da-rulah · 8 months

Text

The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x f!Reader [Part 5]

Summary: It's the morning after the night before, and there are still things left unsaid. You find yourself asking where you go from here and quickly realise, you're both going to need to work on this a little more. Whatever 'this' is...

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 13.6k (lol I did it again...)

Warnings: Angst, more family trauma, emotional discussions, smut, cunnilingus, body worship, emotional sex, unprotected sex (birth control)

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

A/N: Apologies for the delay - I ended up pretty sick for like 2 weeks after I posted part 4... still, thank you for coming back. I missed ya! Thank you again to @angellayercake & @her-satanic-wiles for beta reading 🖤

You felt like you were floating... Drifting as you walked the thin line between consciousness, aware that you were beginning to rouse from a sleep that you had so desperately needed. That floating feeling; you felt so weightless, like bobbing slowly through a place where gravity hardly existed. As you began to stir, your eyes fluttering open, you became aware that that feeling was actually the sensation of your head slowly rising and falling rhythmically, as if buoyant on a gentle ocean.

Except, the surface of the ocean felt warm, solid. It took a few moments, but as you came to you realised – it was Mary’s chest beneath you, his soft, gentle breathing lulling you in the same way it had last night as you’d fallen asleep in this exact position. In your sleep, neither one of you had moved – a sure fire sign that you had both been so exhausted and so comfortable with one another, that you could let down your guards, and drift into a deeply restorative sleep.

When your eyes finally fluttered open, you allowed yourself a glance around his humble little apartment; sunlight streamed in through his windows, narrowly missing the bed but highlighting the specks that floated in the air like glitter with a mind of its own. A pattern on the ceiling at the end of the bed caught your attention; little reflections of light hitting the plaster. Sunlight had hit your dress, still folded neatly atop Mary’s dresser, and the light refracted up to the ceiling from each and every little sequin and rhinestone.

No longer wanting to look at the offensively bright material nor think of the memories attached to it, you turned your head in search of something far more comforting to look to; Mary.

Still fast asleep, his pretty long lashes fluttered every so often as he dreamt, his features so relaxed and at peace you were terrified to disturb him. Even in his relaxation, his arms were wrapped around you snugly as they were last night after the two of you had shared possibly the most important kiss you had ever had.

You wondered, then, if that kiss had meant as much to him as it had to you – if he’d felt, in that moment, what you had felt... For you, there was no longer any denying it. This man – this strange, dark, twisted little sweetheart of a man – had become incredibly important to you, to say the least. He was the one you called in a crisis, he was the first and only person you wanted when the world burned around you.

And despite his anger at you, feeling like he’d never wanted to see you again, he’d come running immediately.

You couldn’t help but watch him as your mind began working, thinking of all the reasons you liked having Mary around. For one, he was unapologetically himself; something you had always strived to be. Two, he had never once made you feel unsafe or looked at you like a piece of meat – even that night at the dive bar... He had a respect for you that men usually were void of. Three, he made you feel more beautiful and more desired every time you’d seen him than anybody ever had. Four, there was a softness he was allowing you to see, slowly peeling back the curtain you knew he kept drawn to others. And five – probably the most important to you right now – he came when you called.

Guilt still stabbed at your chest while you lay there thinking of how this guy had showed up for you unlike anyone else. Maybe Mary had judged you, put you in the princess box like everybody else but at least he had still wanted you. Despite that, he wouldn’t have been afraid to walk hand in hand through the town centre with you, to be seen with you, to show people there was something between you. What you had done was arguably far, far worse.

Not only had you stereotyped him – that would have left you on par, on a level playing field, at least – you had decided that your stereotype of him was that of a person you could never be seen with, that you would hide away in secret out of shame.

Given that your father had cast you aside as quickly and easily as a candy wrapper, you wondered what you were doing that for now. ‘Daddy’s image’ had been so important to you, but why? If he was so willing to throw you out of his town rather than see you happily doing something for yourself, then why on earth did you still give any kind of shit about him? You’d sacrificed so much of yourself over the years for your father, to the point where you really didn’t know who you were beneath the facade. He’d turned you into a little version of himself, shallow enough that you had treated perhaps the only authentic person you had ever had the pleasure to meet like shit.

No more.

“You’re a fuckin’ creep, doll,” Mary rumbled beneath you, his chest vibrating against your cheek and startling a jump out of you. You’d thought he was asleep; he certainly looked like it, his eyes still shut, and his body still comfortably limp beneath you. You stared at him for a moment, wondering if you’d imagined it, or maybe he’d spoken in his sleep... At least, until his lips quirking up into a smug little smirk.

“Sorry, I was just... thinking,” you mumbled, suddenly shy as you settled your head against his chest again.

“About...?” he encouraged, the smugness in his tone completely vanishing. He sounded more concerned, with just a touch of insecurity. You turned your head back to face him, your chin now settled on his chest instead of your cheek. He was looking down at you with both eyes this time, waiting patiently for you tell him the worst case scenario; that coming here had been a mistake and you didn’t want to be around him anymore. That’s what he expected, anyway.

“Just...” You didn’t want to ruin the moment, to bombard him with heavy thoughts first thing in the morning... “how pretty you are,” you smiled, masking the guilt and hurt you’d conjured up. Mary just smiled a goofy, ridiculous smile. His arms tightened around you, and suddenly he was rolling you from your side onto your back, the cold, neglected half of the mattress shocking you further awake as Mary’s weight pressed into you. He lay on his elbow above your head, his other hand still wrapped around your waist.

“Tell me more,” he teased, smirking down at you. You giggled – Mary's favourite fucking sound on the planet – and pulled the blankets up a little further, a knee jerk reaction to the sudden cold of the mattress beneath you.

“Well, I couldn’t possibly contribute to that ego of yours, Goore,” you objected, prodding a finger to his chest just below his collar bone.

“Hmm,” he hummed, his gaze flickering across your face as he took in your smile. He noted how genuine it looked, how content you seemed to lay in his bed, wrapped up in him. His chest swelled with warmth, the desire to kiss you as he had last night overwhelming him.

But he wouldn’t. Neither of you had really talked about what had happened between you before you’d drifted to sleep in his arms, but it had been one of the many things that crossed his mind as he struggled with his memories into the early hours.

Just as you caught Mary gazing back down at your lips, thinking maybe he might kiss you again, longing for it... He met your eyes again, with a hint of anxiety.

“I suppose that... two mature adults would probably talk about everything that happened last night?” he asked tentatively. He was right, they probably would.

“Probably...” you agreed, looking down towards where your hands were fiddling with the edge of the blankets. A wave of nausea passed over you, dull fear settling in the pit of your stomach. Mary sensed your change in demeanour, immediately regretting bringing it up. He switched back to his mask immediately, putting that wall back up and fighting the feeling with comedy.

“Good job we ain’t all that mature then, huh?” he laughed, eyes lingering on the frayed edges of the sleeves of his shirt you wore. The two of you were so hopelessly inexperienced at dealing with emotions, let alone talking about them with anybody. But after where your mind had drifted to that morning as you’d watched him sleep, you knew you had to say the things you’d missed last night. He needed to know how much you regretted treating him like that.

“I do want to apologise to you though, Mary...” Mary’s eyes snapped to look at you then, brow furrowing in confusion. But you persisted; you hoped he’d hear you out. “I was a bitch to you.”

“Nah, you’re fine, doll...” he began, but you cut him off gently, pressing your fingertips to his lips.

“Please, hear me out...” you asked him. When he saw the look in your eyes, the regret on your face, he nodded against your fingertips, willing you to continue. “I know you judged me, and I don’t blame you for that at all. I was putting the act on a little too well. But I judged you too, and then I did something worse... I let my world get in my head, and I locked you out of it because you didn’t ‘fit’ in it,” you made air quotes with your hands, awkwardly wringing your fingers while you spoke, not daring to look in his eyes.

“I’ve let my dad run my life for too long, and he got in my head. He made me feel like I should be ashamed to be around someone like you; or, y’know... the ‘you’ people think you are. I just...” You looked up at him then, his expression unreadable, but you looked him in the eye as you continued, “That’s bullshit, Mare. I don’t want that life. I don’t want people telling me I can’t be seen with someone because they don’t suit my ‘lifestyle’. I want to form my own opinions, my own relationships and... I don’t want to shut out the good people.”

You raised your palm to his cheek, desperately hoping that he knew what you meant; that he was good people. You didn’t want to shut him out anymore.

The arm that was wound around your waist lifted, his hand wrapping around your wrist gently as he stroked his thumb over the back of your hand.

“I’m not wasting another second living for that man anymore,” you whimpered, your waterline blurring your vision where tears gathered. “I’m so sorry for how I treated you, Mary.”

Mary’s features softened, his head turning in your hand to press a light kiss to your palm where he held it still. Those words meant more to him than you’d possibly know, a tension releasing from his shoulders he hadn’t known he had built up.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled against your palm between pecks, “I’m sorry for missing the signs of control. I shoulda seen it, and I missed it. Or just ignored it, I don’t know, but... I’m sorry too.”

Silence settled, a comfortable moment to soak in the apologies you’d owed to each other, to settle any possible lingering bad feeling. It was Mary who broke the silence with a small laugh and a shake of his head above you, hair flopping into his face.

“It’s not like I can stay mad at you for long anyway, doll. Believe me, I tried,” he said, biting his lip cheekily as he smiled down at you.

“Oh yeah? You just couldn’t ignore the cries of a damsel in distress,” you joked back, expecting Mary to laugh and come back with another quick-witted quip. Except... his face faltered, his smile dropping in a flash. Instantly, you knew you’d said something wrong. Why it had been wrong, you weren’t sure, but you jumped into damage control. “B-but, um... you know, just meant to say thank you... you didn’t have to do that-”

“Yeah, I did,” he interrupted, his tone serious. “I’d never just walk away if you needed me...”

Another silence settled as his words lay heavy on your mind. You believed him, wholeheartedly. There was no glimmer of uncertainty or comedy in his expression at all – Mary meant it. He’d never turn his back on you if you needed him. But the way his face had dropped... A flicker of sadness you hadn’t missed... You raised your hand back to his cheek, cradling his jaw as your thumb swiped gently against the stubble that was starting to rise.

“No one ever came to save you... did they?” you asked him, hesitantly. The way his jaw clenched, the tendons in his neck tightening only confirmed your suspicions. You could feel the tightness where you held his jaw, and all you could do was continue to stroke your thumb over the skin, trying to soothe him.

“I’d like to try,” you told him, sincerely. Oh god, you wanted to try. You’d do anything you could to save him, if he’d let you. From what, you weren’t sure, but you’d fight tooth and nail for him.

Mary didn’t know what to say. You’d hit the nail on the head, seen him for what he truly was, and it scared him. It scared him so much, to be that transparent to you. His heart hammered inside his chest and before he knew it, he’d lurched forwards to press his lips to yours in place of words.

He held you so gently as he kissed you, careful not to come on too strong with him laying above you but he took note of how you held him too, how you easily melted into his kiss and allowed him his vulnerability. Just as it had last night, this kiss led nowhere in particular and served only the purpose of affirming your connection; whatever that connection was at this stage.

As you drew yourselves apart, Mary avoided your gaze and instead found himself fiddling with your hair that lay against the pillow as if suddenly very interested in your split ends. He wasn’t one to ever verbalise how he felt, never spoke up about his emotions either positive or negative. Instead, he felt awkward, like anything he’d say right now might ruin the moment in some way. He didn’t trust himself to speak, but he knew he had to say something and so he thought carefully as he played with your hair, still hovering above you with an arm wrapped around your waist.

“I don’t know where we go from here,” he admitted honestly. “I... I don’t know what this is.”

You understood his predicament – you weren’t sure what this was either. You weren’t someone who’d had any kind of relationship or felt this way about another person before, and you weren’t sure if Mary ever had either – of all the times you’d noticed Mary before your first night at the bar together, you’d never seen him with the same girl twice.

“I don’t know either, Mary. But... I just know that it’s something,” you told him, “something I’m willing to fight to protect, if that’s what you want.”

Mary’s lips curved into a smile, and without his usual face paints there was no hiding the slight hue of pink that tinted his cheeks as he looked away with a shyness you found incredibly cute on him.

“You gonna fight for me, doll?” he asked, a cheeky smirk returning as he looked back down at you beneath him.

“With my bare fucking hands, if I have to,” you grinned.

“That’s my girl...” he winked, lowering himself to press another kiss to your lips, giving you no time at all to dwell on what he’d just said other than to have those two words swimming around your head on a loop as he spoilt you with the kind of kisses he felt you deserved; slow, impassioned, with feeling.

“My girl.” Mary’s girl. His girl.

His.

“Try these,” Mary offered his hand to you that clasped a pair of black skinny jeans. “They’re women’s cut anyway.”

“That can’t be comfy...” you laughed, taking the jeans from him and holding the waistband up to your own hips, surprised to find they might actually fit.

“Wrong. They’re tighter, yes, but weirdly fit better. Give ‘em a go, and I got this tee you can wear too for now, maybe some boxers that are too small for me...” he rifled through his drawers, pulling out garments that would do just for today as you stood by the edge of his bed in the pyjamas and old shirt he’d given you last night. He turned to you with the aforementioned clothes in his arms, handing them to you.

“You know where everything is if you wanna shower, but you gotta let the water run for like 5 minutes before you get in. Unless you like being pelted by icicles first thing in the morning,” he shrugged.

“I do not,” you laughed. “But a shower sounds good.” Mary nodded, rubbing his hand up and down his arm as he stood awkwardly across from you, still shirtless with his shorts hanging dangerously low on his hips. You pretended you hadn’t noticed...

“So, uh... What do you think you’re gonna do?” he asked, “I mean, you can stay here as long as you want, but-”

“I should get some stuff from my place, yeah. My dad will be at the office all day, I could always sneak in my bedroom window. I doubt my mother would notice...” you shrugged. “Are you sure you don’t mind me crashing here?” you asked, biting at your lip. You didn’t want to impose, but truthfully you had nowhere else to go and you certainly weren’t crawling back into that house with a fake apology and diving headfirst back into that life. Not now. This was too far gone...

“’course not, doll. Never read a fairytale where the knight sends the princess back to the dragon...” he smirked, folding his arms across his chest.

“You can read?” you teased, earning you a playfully indignant scoff.

“Don’t push it, doll...” He stepped towards you then, tilting your chin up with his finger curled underneath it. His eyes darkened and his voice dropped to a menacing pitch, “How can you be so sure I’m not the bad guy?”

That shouldn’t have done something to you. But with your arms full of a bundle of clean clothes there was no hiding the blush on your cheeks, nor the way you gulped or shifted your weight from one foot to another. And Mary was observant. He raised his head proudly, taking a step back as he booped you on the nose like a good little puppy dog and chuckled to himself.

“Go on, go shower. We’ll swing by yours and then maybe we can grab some food. I’ve got nothing in, so...” he shrugged, turning back to his dresser to pull out some clothes for himself.

“What, like... a date?” you asked, maybe sounding a little too hopeful. Mary looked up from his drawer and squinted his eyes at you in mock suspicion.

“You tryna get in my pants, doll?” he taunted. You rolled your eyes, kicking your bare foot against his shin.

“No, I just... Never mind, probably not your style or something,” you shook your head, regretting mentioning a date at all.

“Hey, I’m great at dates,” he defended, “Just don’t do ‘em very often. And I mean, I don’t think I can live up to the dates you’ve been on with the kind of guys in your circle. Don’t exactly have the cash for a fancy dinner or a helicopter ride over the city or whatever.” He waved his hand in your direction, pretending to be overly interested in rummaging through his drawer.

You scoffed at that, shaking your head. Of course he’d jump to that conclusion, assuming your experience of dating had been like a scene out of The Bachelorette. He was stereotyping again, in an attempt to defend himself. There was a pattern here, you were noticing... Mary was a very defensive guy. But if he’d bothered to ask, maybe he’d be shocked to learn none of the guys you had ‘dated’ had ever taken you on any kind of date. Dinner at your place to be scouted by your father as being good enough for his image was not a date.

“You’re doing it again,” you told him bluntly. Maybe he didn’t even realise he was.

“What?” he snapped, dropping the pair of jeans in his hands back into the drawer in a move that showed he was irritated. Now it was your turn to get defensive.

“Stereotyping me. Maybe it’d shock you to know I’ve never actually been on any kind of date,” you griped. Mary hollowed his cheeks, swallowing his pride when you called him out. You were right, and he knew you were right. He looked over at you from the corner of his eye, unable to hold eye contact as guilt burrowed its way into his chest.

“I just thought-” he tried to make his excuses, but you were tired of hearing them.

“Well, you thought wrong,” you snapped, heading towards the door to his bathroom.

“Wait, doll...” he called after you, frustrated with himself and how quickly he’d managed to turn what had been an almost sweet morning with you into pissing you off.

“Forget it, Mare,” you called back without looking, shutting the door behind you and dumping the pile of clothes in your arms to the counter in front of you. You didn’t want to fight; not with him. You’d had enough of that and while he had pissed you off, part of you knew that maybe you’d started that... ‘Not your style’, what had you even meant by that?

Clearly, the two of you still had some clichés and stereotypes to iron out of your heads. It was easier said than done, when both of you had only ever known the world to be as it was in your bubbles. You only had your previous experience to go off, blindly following what you’d been told and staying in your own lanes. This relationship – or whatever it was – would take some work, and there were still wounds that couldn’t be healed overnight, cracks that a bit of dry wall stuck over them wouldn’t fix. Maybe you’d have to tear it down to its foundations, and rebuild instead.

Outside the bathroom, Mary was thinking much the same thing. You were right to call him out, and he muttered a “you fucking idiot” to himself when you’d shut the door on him. Instead of getting defensive, he should have had the compassion and understanding to know you weren’t trying to be malicious. All you’d done was ask if he was suggesting a date, and his walls went right back up again.

‘What are you protecting yourself from now, idiot?’ he thought to himself. ‘If you like her, you gotta let her in.’

You’d told him you’d fight with your bare hands for him. Was he willing to do the same for you?

‘Yes’ he thought, ‘teeth bared, and claws sharpened.’

The plan was simple – mostly because the air had been too awkwardly stale between the two of you to stomach a better, well-thought-out plan than the brief outline you’d concocted in the shower followed by a brief agreement from Mary.

Mary would drive you back to your house, park up and let you sneak back into your bedroom through your always-unlocked window while he waited for you to pack up your bag and climb back out again. No fuss, no mess, no interactions.

The drive was mostly silent, save for the music settled between a low and medium volume from Mary’s usual radio station. You didn’t mind it, the heavy mashing of guitars and drums mixed with barely intelligible screams and growls. Perhaps you were even growing to like it, for all the time you’d spent in Mary’s van. You could find rhythm to tap your foot along to, and lord knows you often felt like screaming like this too – except, you would have to into a pretty pink and frilly pillow.

“I’ll wait here, no rush,” Mary told you as he parked a little way down the street, on the opposite side of the road.

“I won’t be hanging around, trust me,” you mumbled, nerves eating away at your sanity as you plotted your route over the wall and up the side of the garage. You’d done this plenty of times throughout your adolescence, sneaking in and out, it wasn’t new to you. Yet, the stakes seemed higher today.

Quickly, you rushed out of the van and across the street to avoid being seen by neighbours. Your father’s car wasn’t in the driveway when you climbed over the wall; a sure-fire sign that he was at the office today ruining somebody else’s life. With practised ease, you climbed the side of the garage and tip-toed across the roof towards your bedroom window. Just as you’d expected, it was unlocked, and you could crawl inside without detection.

First, you swung the backpack Mary had lent you from your shoulders, unzipping it and pulling the dress and heels from the night before from it. You folded the dress and lay it on your bed, the heels neatly placed beside it. You knew they’d find them – you wanted them to find them. This was your way of telling them you were done, you’d come home and taken your things and you were gone. There was no crawling back to them.

From your closet, you dragged a duffel bag from the top shelf and began to fill it with your clothes and shoes – at least, the things you wanted to keep. Too many pretty little dresses that weren’t your style at all, too much pink and lace and poofy things you’d dress a china doll in. No, you focussed on the clothes you’d bought with your own money, the basic shirts and sweaters, the jeans and sweatpants, a few pairs of leggings. You had an entire section of your closet you’d never touched, tags still on the items you’d bought but didn’t have the courage to wear.

Mostly black items, things your father would have called ‘too depressing’ or ‘not pretty enough for a girl like you’. He hated black clothing on you, preferred pinks and whites and pale colours that reflected that innocent aura he wanted to get across. So, the black dresses, the ripped jeans, the tighter black tops and oversized graphic tees never saw the light of day. Now, you were stuffing them into your duffel with every intention of wearing what you wanted.

Next, you headed to your drawers to grab your underwear and socks, stuffing them into the bag alongside your clothes. Once empty, you pulled the drawer from the dresser until it was barely hanging on, and ran your fingertips along the bottom until you found the edge of the tape you’d stuck there years ago that held an envelope to the bottom of the drawer. You ripped it off, and stuffed that in your bag too.

As you turned your back to your room shove a handful of jewellery into a side pocket, you heard a creak behind you, near the door. Instantly you froze, waiting for another creak, praying you were hearing things in this big and old house.

“Oh, thank God,” you heard your mother’s voice, whining like she was holding back a sob as she brought her hands to her mouth in shock behind you. You shut your eyes and breathed out a sigh; a mix of relief and regret. You’d so hoped no one would see you, and yet, you were just so glad it wasn’t your father.

You turned to look at her, to see her in her usual put-together wife-of-a-politician attire, clutching her pearls and suppressing a sob as her made-up eyes let tears stream slowly from them.

“Oh, honey... I’m so glad you came home, I’ve been worried sick!” she sobbed, rushing to stand in front of you. Her hands held your shoulders, then one came to cup your cheek as she looked you over for any signs of harm. Her brows creased in concern when she saw the jeans and old AC/DC shirt you’d been given by Mary to wear today. “Where did you-”

“I haven’t come home, Mom,” you pushed her wrists from you gently and walked around her, grabbing various beauty products from your vanity. “I’m just getting my things and I’m leaving again.”

“Leaving? But sweetie, you can’t just leave... Your father was angry, but he’ll come around. H-he... He’s just stressed at work, you know? He loves you-”

“Mom, please!” you snapped, turning back to her. “I don’t know what he told you happened, but he wants me out. And frankly, I’ve put up with his shit for too long. I’m tired of living in his image all the damn time like he’s some fucking messiah!”

“Darling, please,” she pleaded, stepping towards you as she held her hands out to you as if trying to cup your face in her hands again to calm you, “that language sounds so vulgar coming from such a pretty-”

“Stop!” you pushed her hands away, “I don’t want to be daddy’s pretty little trophy, I don’t want to be forced into this life of fake people and pageantry. He doesn’t care that I’m a grown woman with my own thoughts and feelings, he doesn’t care that I went to college to find my own career, or that I want to meet people that I find interesting or that I want to dress how I want, be who I want,” you ranted, letting it spill out. “Look around you, mom. Even my bedroom belongs to a little girl. I don’t like any of this stuff, I don’t want any of this shit! This isn’t ME!” you yelled, the anger manifesting as tears of your own as your mother stared blankly at you, taking it in.

Silence settled, and she turned on her heels to walk over to your bed, sitting herself down on the edge beside your overflowing duffel bag. She flattened her palm to the bedspread, tracing the pattern of the pink lace.

“I told him you never liked pink,” she chuckled sadly. “God, he insisted... Said ‘every little girl likes pink’. He really was clueless.”

You shuffled your feet awkwardly, wiping at the tears in an attempt to remain strong.

“You always were a headstrong little thing. I loved that about you, always thinking for yourself and making your own mind up. I remember the tantrums you had when you asked to have a go-karting party for your 10th birthday instead of a garden party,” she laughed. “I understand more than you think, you know. How your father can be.”

“And you go along with it?” you questioned, confused. She’d never said anything like this or encouraged your freedom of thought before.

Your mother sighed, picking at her manicured fingernails as guilt overwhelmed her.

“I suppose I thought I was doing what was best for you, or maybe just trying to make life easier for the both of us. That doesn’t make it right, I know,” her brow furrowed, still unable to look up at you in her shame, “he’s a persuasive man. That’s politicians for you...”

When she looked up, she smiled softly at you, her eyes once again roaming over your outfit as she let her prejudices down for a moment. Her eyes settled on the shirt, her smile growing just a little more.

“Your grandfather liked them,” she nodded towards the shirt. “Used to play their records all the time.” You looked down at the shirt, completely unaware that your Pops had liked AC/DC. You’d heard the odd song on the radio before, always seemed to like what you’d heard. You found yourself hugging yourself, awkwardly mulling over what your mother had been saying. If this was some attempt to make you stay, to talk to your father, it wasn’t going to work. He’d never let you live under his roof without going back to what he’d moulded you into...

“Mom, I can’t come home... Not if I want to live my own life,” you told her, “I’m sorry...”

And you were, but only for her. Your father had done to her what he did to you, just slower over the course of their 30+ year relationship. She’d been microdosed for decades, until she barely recognised herself anymore. This touch of empathy proved that.

Your mom shook her head, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

“Are you safe?” she asked, her only concern. “I won’t have you on the streets, I need to know you have a place to go.” You nodded at her. “Same place you got those clothes?”

You looked down at them again, trying to figure out what to say to her. You didn’t want to tell her about Mary, you couldn’t. Instead, you just looked back at her blankly. “I’m safe, mom.”

“Good. Well... if this is what you truly want, I won’t stop you,” she stood up, coming to stand in front of you and holding your hand in one of hers, the other tucking some of your hair behind your ear. “Go and live your life, my love. You let me handle your father.”

“Why do you stay with him?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself. But it was too late now. “You laugh along with his bullshit jokes, you let things slide, you let him push you around and tell you how to live your life too. Why?”

“Because it’s too late for me,” she smiled, her eyes glassing over with fresh tears. “But I’ll be okay. There’s good and there’s bad to this, but I love your father. I’ll keep doing my best to influence only the best out of him, because I know it’s in there. I remember when he started his political career, he had nothing... He wanted to help people, to make life a little easier for people. But politics has a way of moulding you into a puppet, like he has with you... All I can do is keep reminding him of where he came from too.”

She pressed a kiss to your forehead, silent tears rolling down her cheeks before she turned away from you with a sniffle and wiped at them.

“He’ll be home soon, you’d better hurry,” she said, picking up the folded dress and heels on your bed. You nodded wordlessly, heading into your bedroom with Mary’s empty backpack to gather the rest of your toiletries. You were in there perhaps two minutes, gathering your things and shoving them into your backpack, but by the time you came back out your mother had disappeared. Your bag was zipped up and ready to go, the dress and heels taken with her.

Without giving yourself the chance to dwell on your decisions, to question yourself or doubt your choices, you hauled the backpack onto your shoulder, hoisted the duffel bag up by the straps and carefully climbed back out of the open window. The front door certainly would have been easier, but if your father was due home soon, you’d rather not run into him. This was safer, and the thought of coming across your mother again drove a white-hot blade straight through your chest.

Carefully, you managed to find your way back over the garden wall, cutting across the street towards Mary’s van. When you wrenched the door open, Mary was laying further down in his seat, one foot up on the dashboard and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He sat up immediately, reaching across the two passenger seats to help drag the duffel back into the footwell while you climbed in, strapping yourself in without a word – just a deep sigh, throwing your head back against the seat.

“You okay?” he asked hesitantly, holding his pack of smokes out to you in offering. You took one wordlessly while Mary pressed the lighter on the centre console in for you. It popped out quickly, having already been heated for his own.

“I will be,” you mumbled, dragging a lungful of smoke in to dull the rising anxiety in your chest. “Let’s go.”

Mary didn’t argue, nor press you for your thoughts. Instead, he switched on the engine, pulled his van away from the curb, and headed off down the street.

At the living room window, your mother stood behind the net curtains, watching you leave. Her chest ached with the heavy sobs she kept from ripping up her throat. She clutched your dress against her, biting her lip and tasting the salt of her tears on them. While she understood why you needed to leave, your father telling her everything you had said to him and how you had ‘betrayed his trust’ by doing so, it still cut her to the core to watch her only child have to run away from her home in order to find her own happiness.

The only comfort to her, was watching you get into a black van that you weren’t driving. You had someone with you, someone who waited for you, who had your back. You had told her you were safe, and she believed you. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see who was driving the van from here, but it was enough to know that you weren’t alone in the world.

She trusted you enough to know you were going to be okay.

Mary drove you straight back to his apartment at your request. When he pulled up outside, he met you at the passenger door and took the heavy duffel bag from your grasp despite your protests, and headed up to the third floor with you in tow.

He dropped the duffel bag on his bed, immediately heading over to his dresser to empty as much space for your things as he could. He compacted his half-filled drawers, shoving jeans in with tees and socks in with underwear to give you the room to empty your duffel. He didn’t think it fair to live out of a bag for however long you might be here.

With a few drawers emptied, he turned back to find you sat on the arm of his couch, defeated and curled in on yourself as you stared at the floor.

“There’s uh... room now, for your stuff I mean,” he mumbled, still feeling awkward. Partially about this morning, that air never really clearing, and partially because he just didn’t know how to help you right now. He had no idea you’d spoken with your mother, no clue of the heavy feeling on your chest and what had caused it. But he noticed something was different when you got back in the van.

“Thanks... You didn’t have to,” you shrugged. Mary ignored that last part.

“There should be room in the bathroom cabinet for your stuff too, but anywhere is fine. This place is yours for however long you want it, so... make yourself at home.” You nodded appreciatively. "I should get some food in, fridge is empty as fuck, so...”

He gathered his keys from the kitchen counter where he’d left them, and moved towards the door.

“Wait, Mare...” you called to him, standing from the couch and quickly walking over to him before he had a chance to open the front door. He turned around, confused and was met with arms wrapping around his waist and your body pressing against his, head laying against his shoulder. Stunned, Mary stood still for a moment, arms raised and eyes blinking.

“I’m sorry. For this morning...” you told him, not ready to burn another bridge over something pathetic such as that. Mary’s shoulders slumped in relief, his arms wrapping around your shoulders and holding you tightly against him.

“S’alright, doll. I’m sorry too. But you don’t gotta panic, alright? We’re fine. We’re gonna be fine,” he assured, resting his chin on the top of your head. He held you for a few moments, feeling the tension leaving your shoulders and your body relaxing into him.

“I’ll be back soon, alright? You unpack, relax,” he said, kissing the top of your head and pulling back from you. You nodded with a half-smile, watching as he left you alone in his apartment.

With a sigh, you walked over to the duffel on his bed, unzipping the fully stuffed bag ready to remove your clothes and sort them into the drawers Mary had emptied for you. But as you opened the bag, your eyes fell on something you hadn’t packed for yourself.

A photo, folded up with a note written on the back of it.

‘Find yourself, angel. All my love, Mom. Xo'

As if your heart wasn’t already busy shredding itself at the note, the picture you unfolded only made it harder to swallow the lump in your throat.

It was you as a toddler, sat on your mother’s knee at a picnic table while your father, younger than you could ever remember him, sat beside you both, feeding you messily from an ice cream cone. No shirt and tie, no matching tweed sets, no pearls – your father wore a plain t-shirt and jeans, your mother dungarees and a ringer tee.

You’d never seen them look so normal... just a sweet, young couple with their little girl on a day out at the park.

You couldn’t hold it back anymore. Your ribcage vibrated at the force of the sob you set free, forcing yourself to sit on the edge of Mary’s bed to allow yourself a moment to lose it. You needed that; just a flash of time to mourn the loss of a life stolen from all of you by the pressures of politics. The smiles on your parents faced showed a time they were truly happy, they weren’t faking for a camera or a crowd.

You had to wonder what had changed, why your father lost sight of his own values. He hadn’t always been a cruel and stoic businessman. He had loved you, wanted to do right by you.

What changed?

By the time Mary came home, over an hour had passed. He carried arms full of paper grocery bags that you rushed to help him with, now calmed and collected from your earlier breakdown. Why he’d bought so much you couldn’t understand, nor how he had the money to do so. As far as you were aware, he had no day job. Guilt washed over you, wondering if he’d filled the cupboards and fridge just because he knew you were staying with him.

“Let me get some cash, it’s not fair you paid for all this if I’m eating too,” you told him, heading for your wallet you’d stuffed into the backpack Mary had given you.

“Nah, you’re fine, doll. I got this one,” he protested, shoving the last of the groceries into the fridge.

“Are you sure?” you asked, worried about burning a hole in his pocket.

“If you’re worrying about money, don’t. I get by,” he shrugged, leaning up against the kitchen counter. “I restore guitars, get ‘em back in shape and ship ‘em back to their owners. Decent enough money for rent and bills, little extra pocket money here and there since the band funds kinda go back into the band.”

“Damn, you do? I didn’t know... I guess I never asked, huh?” You headed back into the kitchen, hopping up onto a kitchen cabinet opposite him.

“Yeah, learned some carpentry from Mr Rogers? He had this workshop in town. I helped out as a kid, he taught me some things...”

Mr Rogers was a name you knew well, a sweet older man even when you were a child. Everybody in town knew Mr Rogers. You looked around his apartment again, seeing the electric guitars up against the wall and the battered old acoustic he’d removed from his bed.

“Is that one you’re working on now?” you asked, pointing to the acoustic. It really was in rough shape...

“Oh, uh... no. That’s... that’s mine. I kinda like it how it is,” he shrugged, clearing his throat. “And I don’t restore them here, I got myself a little storage unit outside of town to do all that when Mr Rogers retired. Anyway, you all unpacked?” he asked, changing the subject quickly.

“Oh yeah, thanks. I didn’t bring much, most of it wasn’t exactly my stuff anyway.”

“Nice. You hungry?” His eyebrow quirked up, his arms folding across his chest. As if your stomach had ears of its own, it growled at the mere thought of food. Through everything today, you’d forgotten to eat and yes... you were hungry. Mary chuckled at the sound of your growling stomach. “Sounds like a yes.”

“Kinda,” you smiled.

“Alright, well get dressed then. We’re going out,” he told you, smiling to himself.

“Out? Where?” you asked.

“Just out. Wear something you like, makes you feel good,” he pushed himself off the kitchen counter, rounding the half wall to sit himself on the couch and flicking on his TV. “Take your time.”

You stared at him in confusion from your seat on the kitchen counter, looking at the back of his head as if he’d grown another one.

“Alright, don’t take that much time...” he teased, “go, go!” He flapped his hand out towards the bedroom half of the apartment, snapping you into motion. You jumped down from the counter, in search of something to wear.

Something that made you feel good, he’d said, as if that was important to him. Not something you thought he would like, not something you thought anybody in the world would like, other than you.

A smile tugged at your lips, flicking through the garments you’d brought with you with the tags still on, the things you’d always wanted to wear, but never had the guts to.

Finally, it was time to figure out your style.

It felt like staring at someone you’d known your whole life, and yet, you’d never met before... Your reflection stared back at you, made up how you wanted, dressed up how you wanted. Darker eye make up, a deeper red lip shade, and a fitted black knitted dress just past your knees with some squeaky-clean black converse. This was the you you’d envisioned when you bought the damn dress, but never had the guts to become. If you’d walked downstairs at home in this outfit, your father would have made you change immediately.

But now, as you reached behind you to rip the tag from the back, you felt like yourself for the first time. This was definitely something that made you feel good, despite it being so simple.

With a deep breath, you stepped out of Mary’s bathroom with an audible “ta-da!” His head whipped around from where he sat on the couch, his eyes scanning over your body, lips quirking up into a smirk.

“Not wearing that just to impress me are you, doll?” he asked, raising an eyebrow cheekily. But truthfully, he was worried you were... He didn’t want you to feel like you had to dress a certain way to be with him or be around him. If you wanted to wear pretty pink dresses, he didn’t care. But if you wanted to wear darker clothes like this? Well... he certainly wasn’t complaining.

“Nope. Pretty much everything I brought with me still has the tags on, because this is how I always wanted to dress and just... didn’t,” you shrugged. Mary stood up then, walking over to you to lift your hand in his and twirl you like a real doll on a music box.

“And how do you feel?” he asked, still holding your hand as you came back around to face him.

“Like me,” you grinned. Mary’s smile widened, leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead.

“You’re missing something though...” he said, wagging his eyebrows at you as he darted off behind the outer bathroom wall that hid the front door from view. When he came back, he’d taken his leather jacket from the pegs next to the front door. When he stopped in front of you, he opened it for you. “Can’t let you get cold.”

“Mary...” you cooed, “after what you went through to get it back?” you teased, threading your arms into the sleeves as he held it for you.

“And I'll go through that again, if that’s what it takes...” he flirted from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and lowering his voice to a far more seductive tone. Naturally, you leaned into him, sighing happily wrapped in his jacket and him. “Just gimme 5, doll.” He patted your hip as he unravelled himself from around you, and disappeared into the bathroom. When he emerged, he’d styled his hair, painted his face in his usual make up and fake blood, and he smelled distinctly like that night in your bedroom... His cologne.

“Alright, let’s go,” he draped an arm around your shoulders and led you back towards the front door, picking up his keys on the way and a distressed denim jacket that was hung up on the same pegs his leather one had been.

You had no idea where Mary was taking you... He seemed to be driving forever, through town and out the other side, down winding roads and country lanes. Was he taking you into the city? He refused to tell you, instead turning the volume up instantly with a cheeky grin every time you whined about not knowing where you were, and only turning it down again when you stopped talking.

It wasn’t until you found yourself surrounded by trees and on a dirt path that you started to wonder what the fuck Mary was really up to...

“Mare, seriously...” you sat up in your seat, looking out of the windows at the scenery, the sky turning orange and pink as time went on, “where the fuck are we?”

He didn’t touch the volume dial this time, instead focussing on the road ahead with sneaky side glances to you every so often, watching you look around for some kind of clue.

“You trust me, right doll?” he asked, smirking.

“I did, but you’ve brought me to a secluded woodland, alone, in a van,” you joked, only the slightest hint of anxiety in your voice. After all, you hadn’t known Mary that long... “I thought we were going to dinner...?”

“We are. Just trust me,” he assured, losing a bit of that smugness after hearing the slight nerves in your voice. He hadn’t wanted to make you genuinely anxious, and he was trying to quell that as best he could. “Almost there.”

After a little while, the trees started to thin, the burnt orange of the sky more visible to you as you looked out over a huge expanse of water, stretching right out to the horizon where the sun was threatening to dip underneath. The dirt track you were on opened up into what looked like a turning circle, the water lapping at the edge of it. Mary slowed the van down, using the space to turn around and back up just a few feet away from the water’s edge before putting it into park and switching off the engine.

The radio cut out, and left the two of you in silence. Mary turned to you with a smug look, and you waited for him to do something, to say something to explain how on earth you were meant to get dinner here. He said nothing.

“If you think I’m fishing for my dinner, you got another thing coming...” you told him, folding your arms over your chest. Mary just laughed, pulling the keys out of the ignition and jumping out of his side of the van. You stayed put, scowling at him with only a half-serious air of annoyance. He came to your door, opening it for you.

“M’lady...” He bowed and held out his arm to encourage you to step down from the van. You did so gingerly, squinting at him with suspicion.

With the door shut behind you, he walked around to the back of the van, and opened up the double doors to the back. You heard a small click, like a switch, and peered around the doors to look inside half expecting to find a rack of various sharp objects, maybe a chainsaw and plastic sheets from an episode of Dexter...

But instead, you were met with possibly the cutest little sight you’d ever seen.

You’d never seen so many pillows and blankets stuffed into such a small space, the entire back of the van covered in comfort to laze about on. Battery powered fairy lights were strung up across every wall, sitting over patterned wall hangings to make the space look more cozy, almost bohemian. In the middle of the blankets, sat a disposable barbeque, and a grocery bag of burgers, buns and snacks to keep you going for the evening.

“I don’t really do restaurants...” he shrugged, kicking at the dirt at his feet.

Looking around at the setting you found yourself in, you almost felt like crying. He’d put effort in, he’d thought about this, he’d prepared. This felt more intimate than any restaurant could, gave you a chance to just exist with Mary in your own world for a moment, away from the judgement of others and the obvious stares and whispers from a public that knew you all too well.

You were speechless. You had nothing smart to say, no quick wit or little quips. Instead, you were filled with an overwhelming warmth and gratitude.

Before either he or you knew what you were doing, you stepped closer to him and grabbed fistfuls of his t-shirt, pulling him closer to press your lips to his. Words had failed you, but actions spoke louder anyway, right?

Mary stumbled back a little, but promptly held his hands out to grip your hips as he kissed you back with a chuckle. When he pried his lips from yours after a while, he still didn’t let you go, far too comfortable holding you close to him while you still held onto his t-shirt.

“So, you’re not mad at me?” he asked smugly. You shook your head no, biting your lip to contain the grin. “Good... I just wanted it to be us tonight. No one else shoving their noses in our business, y’know?”

“It’s perfect, Mare. Shouldn’t have doubted you,” you told him. “But you better get that barbeque going stat, before I take a chunk out of you instead.”

“Ooh, don’t threaten me with a good time, doll,” he teased with a wink, letting you go and reaching into the van for the supplies he’d brought. As he was setting up the barbeque, he threw his keys to you, “half-turn the key, you’ll just get the radio. Tune it to whatever you want.” You nodded, letting him get on with it while you searched through the stations for something a little less screamy, a little more old-school... You settled for a station known for its classic rock – a middle ground for you and Mary for now.

Getting comfy amongst the pillows and blankets Mary had collected – whilst he’d been grocery shopping, so he told you – you watched him get to work, using his zippo to light the coals and throwing a couple of burger patties on the grill with some chicken skewers. Golden hour was certainly upon you, the gorgeous scenery bathed in an ethereal orange glow as the sun descended.

The sky grew darker as Mary cooked for the two of you, both of you making your way through the burgers, skewers and snacks he’d brought just chatting, laughing, enjoying the company of one another in a way that had so far been impossible. If you had any doubts about Mary’s personality at all, this evening had squashed them completely. He was a dork, a loser, a cheeky little shit and so incredibly charming, sweet and hilarious.

Swapping stories of your adolescence took you well into the darkness of the night, laughing at the shit he’d pulled as a teenager, the trouble he’d gotten into with his friends while you told him of the stupidity of a fake life, the tales of pettiness and girl-drama from high school and the asshole boys you’d dated through the years.

“So, you’ve only ever dated assholes then, huh?” he asks, taking a sip from the soda can in his hand.

“Yep, sure know how to pick ‘em... Or maybe I attract them, I don’t know. Didn’t exactly want most of their attention,” you scoffed, biting the end off a strawberry twizzler.

“Like that asshole at the fair?” he asked, taking another sip. You made a face of disgust, remembering the way that Devon had claimed you that night.

“Mhm. He decided I was his the second he met me. Gross. I spent all evening trying to get him away from me without causing a scene. Like I said, just attract assholes,” you shrugged, turning to face him with a sly smile, “still do.”

Mary swallowed a large gulp of the soda, finishing his can and sat up from where he leaned on his elbow in the pillows, his eyebrow quirked upwards and chest puffed out.

“Oh, I’m an asshole?”

“You deny it?” you teased, taking another bite of the twizzler.

Mary crushed the soda can in his fist and threw it behind him, keeping his eyes on you as he moved closer, practically crawling on his knuckles. You swallowed your bite, butterflies awakening in your stomach at the dark look on his face. His make up only made him look more menacing, a spark of excitement igniting inside you.

“Well, if you only date assholes, does that mean we’re dating, doll?” he challenged, the corner of his lips twitching. Neither of you had labelled whatever this was between you, the conversation this morning only settling on it being something. Was he asking you to officially be his? You grew nervous, worried you’d scare him off with an admission that yes, you wanted to date him. Officially.

“I-I...” you stumbled, trying desperately to think of something smart to say. You fell short.

“I seem to remember you telling me you’d ‘fight for me’ this morning, doll...” he practically growled, continuing to crawl over you until you shuffled back, slowly leaning into the pillows behind you as he loomed over you. His body lay beside yours, and yet, he leaned on his fists either side of you, contorted to cage you in. “’With your bare fucking hands’?”

For the second time tonight, you were speechless. All you could think about was how close he was, how menacing he looked, how your body melted under his and you seemed all too willing to submit beneath him.

“I suppose what I’m asking you, doll, is...” he lowered his head to whisper in your ear, “Are you mine?”

Where words failed you, the involuntary little whimper you let slip spoke for you. Mary had to bite his lip and turn his head away to look at the far wall of the van to contain the proud grin and laugh he wanted to let out. Composing himself, he looked back down at you, gaze drifting over you.

“You just gotta say the words, doll. Easy as that.” He raised one of his fists to toy with the edges of his leather jacket you still had wrapped around you, fingertips grazing your collarbone beneath the knit of your dress. “What do you say, hm?”

You let a beat of quiet pass between you, the low melodies of classic rock still playing from the cabin of the van. He waited patiently, still toying with the badges and spikes of his jacket, admiring how pretty they looked on you.

“I want to be yours, Mary...” you confessed.

Mary’s eyes instantly flicked back up to look into yours. He searched for a moment, looking for any insincerity, anything that made him think you regretted those words slipping from your tongue or you had only said that because he’d asked you to.

Nothing of the sort.

The kiss Mary surprised you with knocked the wind out of you, bruising and all-consuming as his body all but collapsed into you, his lips moulding to yours and smearing your lipstick in such a heated moment of need he surprised even himself. His hand slipped beneath his jacket, palm flattening against your collarbone and sliding up to hold the back of your neck, his thumb stretching to hold your jaw in place and manoeuvre your head to the perfect angle.

He leaned his body weight into you, his elbow propping him up enough to save you from being completely crushed but the weight on your chest was welcomed. You just wanted him close, everywhere all at once.

His lips commanded movement from you, parting them over and over to welcome his tongue into the mix as well as yours. His grip on you tightened, his body rolling into yours with a desperate need to make you his as you’d asked. Your heart hammered against your chest, pounding so hard you thought it might burst through just to get to Mary.

The hand on your neck dragged itself down further, palm flattened against your collarbone and down between the valley of your breasts, over your stomach and quickly dipping to your hip where he squeezed the flesh he adored. With a second squeeze he pulled your hip closer, colliding with his own and earning a groan that parted his lips from yours and spread the heat of his breath against your chin where he was now mouthing recklessly, leaving sloppy kisses on your skin.

“Can I have you now?” he pleaded, the sloppy kisses moving along your jaw to beneath your ear, and down your neck.

“Please, Mary...” you begged, hands fisting the soft blankets beneath you.

He sat up abruptly, pushing himself away to kneel at your feet with every ounce of willpower he could muster to be away from you. You sat yourself up on your elbows wanting to chase him, panic ensuing that he’d changed his mind but when he sat himself at your feet and lifted one to his thigh, you calmed a little, watching with intrigue.

He pulled at your shoelace, slowly unravelling them to loosen your high tops and pull at the heel, removing it along with your sock. He gently placed it between his knees again, lifting the other to do the same except this time, he didn’t lower your foot. Instead, he raised it higher, pressing his lips gently to the inside of your ankle. He leaned forward on his knees, holding your leg to easily trail more slow, open-mouthed kisses up the inside of your calf muscle until he was dipped low enough to rest your ankle on his shoulder, yet still travelling his kisses up to your knee. With his hand now free, he could push the hem of your dress up and chase it with his lips.

You watched him take his time, the heat in your stomach growing inescapably. You wanted to press your thighs together for some kind of friction but in this position, Mary would never allow it. All you could do was wrap your arms around your stomach, gripping onto the material of your dress in anticipation.

The dress bunched against the middle of your thighs, and his lips made their way up the inside of your knee, mouthing at the flesh with gentle scrapes of his teeth and puffs of hot breath as he groaned against you. He looked so lost in his worship of your body, eyes closed and eyebrows knitting together with each moan. Before he could get too close to where you needed him, he sat up again, both hands reaching underneath your dress on the outsides of your thighs and finding the hem of your panties. He dragged them down from under the skirt, pulling them off you and dropping them to one side. Before coming back to you, he stripped himself of his denim jacket and reached behind his head to pull his t-shirt off again, leaving him shirtless with his jeans belted low on his hips.

You allowed yourself to linger on the sight of his little happy trail dipping beneath the material, the distinct ‘V’ shape your remembered from the night in your bedroom making your mouth water and your thighs press together like you’d wanted before.

Without another word, he lowered himself to his stomach, lifting your ankle over his shoulder again and leaning on his elbows. His lips found your inner thigh where he’d left you, and began their ascension with more wet kisses and gentle bites. You helped him with your dress, finally feeling him nudging his nose against the very top of your inner thigh. Raising your hips, you pulled the dress over the swell of your ass beneath you, and exposed your core to him.

Mary couldn’t help but to stare... How pretty you looked for him, practically sparkling with arousal already. Like a man possessed, he was drawn to your centre, his lips pressing to your mound right above where you glistened for him. Instinctively your fingers threaded in his hair, pushing that signature spike in front of his face out of the way and gripping onto the strands to ground yourself.

Finally, he kissed your lips as he wound his arms underneath your thighs, hands flattened to your flesh and pulling your hips down to his mouth. His tongue snuck between your folds and swept across your throbbing clit, getting a taste of you that awoke something primal inside him. His fingers dug into your flesh tighter and he pushed his face deeper into your core, tongue now swishing and flicking over your nerves while you threw your head back at the pleasure.

At the sound of your first breathy and high-pitched moan, he grinned, tongue still laving at your clit. He’d fucking missed that... And with no one around for miles, he had no need to gag you, to stop you from singing for him like a siren’s call. The two of you were finally alone, this time in no danger of being caught or found out. He could hear you tonight, completely unbound.

One of the arms snaked around your thigh unwound, his palm pressing to your abdomen and his thumb stretching to flick over your clit as his tongue dipped lower, burrowing between your folds and finding a well of arousal to lap at where it had gathered at your entrance. You spread your legs wider for him, encouraging him as he drank you in. Mary’s tongue was like fucking magic, casting spells that had your mind dizzy and hazy.

“Mary...” you whined, your hips lazily grinding against his tongue until he pressed further, dipping inside you while his thumb flicked over your clit. You were going to lose yourself quickly, completely drunk on pleasure. Mary didn’t care, so long as he could hear you singing his name over and over.

Somehow, he burrowed his face deeper, groaning into you. When you looked down, you could see his ass rising and falling behind his head, grinding his cock into the makeshift bed beneath him. He was too turned on to stay still, enjoying himself too much to even notice he was humping the pillows and blankets like a horny teenager. And fuck it turned you on.

The coil inside you was winding itself tighter and tighter by the second while Mary only intensified his movements, worshipping you so completely. When you called his name again, your fingers tightening and scratching at his scalp, he only got faster, desperate to bring you to an end like he had so many times before. Your hips bucked despite how hard his palm pressed against your stomach and his other held your thigh down, and soon enough, you were losing your mind with your first orgasm ripping through your body.

Mary drank every drop of fresh arousal he could get, continuing to pleasure you through the waves of your orgasm. Your cries and whimpers only encouraged him to keep going, until your body started to go limp beneath him, muscles contracting in your aftershocks. He only slightly pulled back, pressing light kisses to your clit and chuckling when it had your body jolting in overstimulation.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to gag you again, doll... You sound too pretty,” he remarked, looking at you from between your legs with a coy smile. You giggled, blushing furiously as you combed your fingers through his hair. He crawled his way up your body, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand and pressing his lips to yours again. You cradled his cheeks in your palms, dreamily losing yourself in his kiss.

Kissing him again allowed you some time to recover from such a strong orgasm, until you found the energy to lift your thigh to his hip and press inwards, rolling your body to force him onto his back while you straddled his waist. He allowed it, moaning involuntarily when your bare core brushed against his erection behind his tight jeans. His hands slid from your waist to your ass, squeezing the exposed flesh like fresh bread dough.

You pulled yourself back, sitting upright and shaking his jacket from your shoulders, dropping it to the side. He joined you, rolling the dress up past your waist for you to take over, lifting it above your head and off your body. He leaned forwards, pressing his lips to your collarbone and sternum, resuming his earlier open-mouthed kissing spree across your chest while you reached behind you to unclasp your bra. He scrambled to pull it from you, never letting his kisses cease while he made his way across your breast to take a nipple into his mouth, nipping and sucking at the bud.

You ground your hips down into him, reminding him you needed his focus there as much as you enjoyed his attention on your breasts. It was all well and good him worshipping you and making you feel good, but you were so desperate to please him too... Yes, it turned him on to make you feel good, he derived most of his pleasure from it, but you wanted to give him the same.

“You focus too much on me,” you told him, slipping your hands between you both and reaching for his belt. “What about you, hm? Don’t I get to make you lose your mind too?”

Mary looked up at you in total awe, “didn’t you notice? I lost my mind the second you told me you were mine, baby...”

You grinned down at him, overwhelmed with an emotion you couldn’t pinpoint but it didn’t stop you from undoing his belt and jeans and slipping a hand beneath the layers of material separating you. When your hand wrapped around him, he threw his head back, groaning and rolling his eyes into the back of his head.

“Help me get ‘em off, Mare,” you told him, and he didn’t have it in him to argue at all. Why would he?

You shuffled back, pulling at the hem of his jeans and boxers while he planted his palms to the blankets beneath him and lifted his hips so you could shimmy them down. He helped to push them further, while you reached behind him to take off his boots and socks. He kicked the jeans and boxers from his legs, leaning back on his palms again as you shuffled yourself back to straddle his hips.

“You got any idea how beautiful you are, doll?” he asked, watching his own hand dance across your thigh and up over your hip.

“Never felt like that until you came along...” you admitted shyly. His head snapped in your direction, his eyes meeting yours.

“That’s a fucking crime,” he told you, pressing his thumb to your chin and pinching gently. You turned your head to press a light kiss to the heel of his palm, then leaned in to steal a real kiss from him again. While his mind was preoccupied with your lips, you reached between you both again, taking him in your hand with a stroke and beaming at the praise that came in the form of a whimper. Without disconnecting your kiss, you lined your hips up with his, and slowly began to sink down on his length.

Mary’s jaw swung open with a loud moan, one of the hands he was leaning on shooting to your thigh and digging into the flesh as if it would stop the world imploding around him. You understood, your own body reacting much the same with your arms latching around his neck to keep you stable as he filled you. You felt so tight around him, walls already contracting as you derived your pleasure from the intrusion.

You had to take a moment when he had nothing more to fill you with, stretched around him and overwhelmed. His grip on your thigh never lessened, the two of you pressing your foreheads together with parted lips and hot, uneven breaths fanning each other’s face. It felt so incredibly intimate; whatever this connection with Mary was, it was all-consuming. If it weren’t for the throb of need between your legs, you’d have been content to stay like this for as long as he’d allow.

But now accustomed to his size and the depths to which he filled you, you couldn't help yourself. Slowly, you began to roll your hips against his, your fingers snaking into the hair at the base of his neck as you brushed your nose against his. The hand on your thigh slid to your hips, his nails biting at your curves.

As you found a rhythm, moans dripped from his lips like the sweetest syrup. You taking control, needing him so close you could practically swallow each other whole was driving Mary wild. In his head, he was battling between begging you to ride him faster and wanting to keep you like this as long as possible, prolonging both of your pleasure. All either of you cared about was how the other was feeling – your own pleasures were simply a bonus.

“Take what you need from me, baby,” he panted as your pace picked up a little, your hips rocking into him and body rolling against him. “I’m yours just... just as much as you’re mine.”

Hearing that, you lost yourself. Your head fell back, hair cascading down your shoulders and body rolling faster into him. He shifted his weight beneath you to relieve the need to hold himself up with one hand, instead wrapping his arms around your back and digging his fingernails in there too. Feeling him clawing at your flesh, you felt so wanted it drove you insane.

Mary’s lips collided with your chest again, mouthing at the skin as he groaned and whimpered into you. His hands were all over you, feeling every inch of you surrounding him, guiding you in your mission to capture bliss with every roll of your hips. You felt Mary everywhere, and it was fucking perfect.

Unbridled moans filled the van, spilling out into the night and across the still waters of the lake under the moonlight. In such a picturesque snapshot of Mother Nature’s work, nothing felt more natural than this moment with him. No insecurities, no doubts, nothing to be unsure about.

The way you rode him had his cock reaching every spot inside you, the control allowing you to pinpoint what felt the best and demand more of it. Mary could feel you squeezing him, massaging every inch of him as he sunk further and further into madness. The spell you were casting on him was a welcomed hex, and he was a willing victim.

“M-Mary?” you called out to him, your eyes shut so tight; you were afraid to open them in case everything you were feeling disappeared.

“I’m here... Fuck, I’m here, doll. Not goin’ nowhere,” he vowed, his grip tightening, his promises muffled by the swell of your breast.

You became almost frantic, chasing both of your highs. It was the only thing that mattered to you; that bond, that simultaneous desire to prove to each other how vital this attachment was. Mary let one of his hands slither between you both, giving you his palm to rut yourself against while you took him deeper with each thrust against him. The direct contact with your clit had you fluttering around him, and he couldn’t help but bite down on your breast and send a brief flash of welcomed pain through your body.

The yelp you let out snapped his head up to look at you, finding your face contorted into an expression of euphoria. His free hand gripped your neck, his thumb curling around your jaw to hold your face tightly.

“Look at me,” he demanded, growling through grit teeth, his orgasm hurtling towards him like a runaway train. He needed to see you. “Baby look at me, c-come on, please...” he begged.

Your eyes shot open at his request and the blissful tears in your eyes were all it took to send him over the edge. He pulled your face to his and smashed his lips to yours, rocking underneath you to match your thrusts while his cock pulsated and kicked inside you, spilling everything he had deep inside you. The lewd sounds of his cum and your slick mixing and were so intoxicating, and the warmth of his release had you whimpering into his mouth.

His didn’t remove his hand from between you, nor from your neck. If anything, his palm pressed harder against your clit, and there really was no hope of containing your orgasm if you had wanted to. A powerful wave of ecstasy sucked you under the surface, tumbling you until you couldn’t discern which way was up or down. You gasped, the air being punched out of your lungs to separate your last desperate kiss.

Mary cried out as if he was in pain, overstimulated by the way your core sucked him inside and refused to let go. The hand at your clit shot to your back to stop you from falling backwards, your balance long lost. Instead, you fell forwards, Mary powerless to stop your weight from sending him flying back into the pillows.

Now laying in a heap of limbs, you convulsed and whimpered while your climax ebbed away. Mary too, the shockwaves jolting him every time your walls contracted on his still semi-hard length. Neither of you could speak, simply exhausted and almost catatonic. It took all of his energy to wrap his arms around you.

Minutes passed as you caught your breaths, like astronauts floating through space and finding a safe place to land. This felt different to any other time with Mary... It wasn’t dirty, it wasn’t rushed, you weren’t in danger of being discovered and you weren’t suppressed. You were simply so drunk on each other, so completely enamoured that words weren’t enough anymore.

You’d never had this before. Neither had Mary. Both of you were just as clueless as to what to do with these feelings – and you were both as terrified as each other for whatever were to come next.

You lifted your head to look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. He looked back down at you too, and before either of you knew what you were doing, you both erupted into laughter.

You couldn’t pinpoint why; was it relief? Was it at the absurdity of how you got here? Was it just noise to fill the after-bliss void? Perhaps all of the above, but as Mary cuddled you into his side and wrapped you both in a blanket to stave of the chill of the night seeping into the space around you now you’d stilled, neither of you could stop the laughter.

“What the fuck are we doing, doll?” he laughed, running his palm down his face as his laughter calmed to a chuckle.

“Being young and dumb...” you gleamed, pressing a kiss to his chest and grinning up at him.

“...and full of cum,” he teased, earning a loud slap to his bare chest and more laughter erupting from the two of you.

“You had to ruin it!” you accused.

“That’s me, doll. Ruin everything,” he winked, pulling you to lay higher next to him so you were face to face. “Certainly ruined your life.”

“Wouldn’t change a second of it.”

Mary’s smirk turned into a genuine smile, his fingers tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“Nah, me neither,” he declared, before cradling your cheek and leaning into you for another kiss; this time, one that had butterflies dancing in your stomach to a different tune – a more mellow, contented melody.

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

TAG LIST: @writingjourney @anamelessfool @astro-ghoul99 @sodoswitchimage @through-thebrokenglass @ghoulette-knell @thylacourt @onlyhereforghost @mikathemushroom @jaymechaos @gardenghoul22 @mustluvecho @mlioravanfleet @tobbesdiscordkitten @the-did-i-ask @love-is-all-you-need-13 @fishwithtitz @xshadyladyx @redthefieryginger @preqvelle @arhiannababe @namelessdrool @jokerofthepack52 @popialover @alonso123 @copias-sewer-rat @kadedoesthings @popiaswife @thew0man @siouxbauhaus @copias-juicebox @ghostfangirlsweden @rainstorms-library

#mary goore x reader smut #mary goore fanfiction #mary goore fanfic #mary goore x reader #mary goore #repugnant fan fiction #repugnant fanfiction #repugnant #repugnant band #ghost bc #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost #ghost band #ghost #ghost the band #mary goore smut #The mayor's daughter

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credince--writes · 2 years

Text

Hands (1)

God, you dream of those hands.

Original Prompt:

Size Kink & Breeding Kink with Konig.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - AO3

Konig x Fem! Reader

(A/N): I accidentally fuckin deleted the original post while trying to add links to the other 2 chapters, so reposting LMAO. I'M SO SAD BC IT WAS ONE OF MY BEST PREFORMING POSTS.

Honestly? It started in a very innocent way.

"I'm taking off your gloves."

He sat in front of you, tapping his foot on the cold tile. Currently under the attention of you from the intended use of his hands in combat.

Which is why you were inspecting for broken knuckles.

Most of his gear had been taken off, set aside along with the hood that donned his head on missions. Now, you were pulling the gloved that clung to the asking of his hands off. Inspecting the pale skin beneath them.

"You know, I'm starting to think you do dumb shit like this on purpose." You glance up at him.

"I'd never." He replied.

"Because I'm lookin' at these hands, and I'm seeing a whole lot of unnecessary bruising."

"It was necessary."

You quirked a brow.

"You just, happen to lose your gun there soldier?" You pulled back, leaning back against your seat and shooting him an amused glance.

"Sometimes, things are better done by hand."

"mmhm." You mumbled.

Eyes trailed up his hands, finding stray scars and following the veins leading up to his forearms.

Man,

those were some big hands.

"Is everything alright, doctor?" He asks, amusement twirling around in his eyes, sparking out in his voice.

Maybe he was catching on to your oogling.

"Just making sure nothing broken. Can't imagine it would be fun to work with broken fingers."

"Nein."

"This hurt?" You ask.

"Nein."

"Then you're fine. I'll give you some meds and send you off on your way."

"Danke!" He shot up, clamping a hand down on your shoulder, man near enveloping your entire left side.

You started to imagine what it would be like if that big hand wrapped around your neck.

"Be careful, please."

"Of course." He shot a sideways, toothy grin. The side that his nose crooked over to and the side with the one crooked canine that made him look like a dog ready to chase a bone.

He turned, starting to walk away.

"You know, König." You stated. He stopped a turned around. "If you want to visit me, you don't need to have an injury."

His eyebrows raised, and you could swear there was a blush that tinted his cheeks. "I'll consider that for next time."

Before turning and leaving.

And he did visit you.

One visit turned into two.

Then four.

Then he just popped in so often while he was not on a mission he became part of your routine.

Have a cup of coffee with König in the morning, maybe even join him for dinner and enjoy it in the sanctity of your quiet and private office.

Just so happened that the longer you spent with him the more your thoughts were clouded.

His hands,

his thighs,

fuck, you can't even imagine how big his cock would be.

You'd like to think you were better than this.

Pressed up in your shower thinking about the huge man, wondering what his bare chest would feel like curling up over your back.

You closed your eyes, trying to picture just how good it would feel.

It would be right after he comes back from a mission, the dark look in his eyes still clouding his consciousness as he's still in the mindset of a soldier, a killer.

His steps would be heavier- you'd hear him walk into the bathroom, the rustling of clothing as he strips the cloth covering his flesh discarded down to the ground without a second thought.

He'd slip into the shower, with your head placed under the stream of hot water. Almost comically so, his head would be unable to reach the stream of water without immensely bending at the knees.

You'd hum, leaning back into him as he'd reach his arm around your waist, pulling your wet body closer to his. Head dropping down for his mouth to latch onto the nape of your neck, biting and sucking on the sensitive skin.

Gasping throwing your head back farther and allowing it to bump against his shoulder, letting out a light whine that he'd love to harvest from your throat.

One hand would drift down, widening his palm as it flattened and slid down your tummy, nearly covering the expanse of your abdomen before it dipped down, lower.

His other hand would grab your chin, pulling your head back to meet into a feverish kiss. Pressing your back up against the cold wall of the shower, holding it up against it.

On a normal occasion, you'd be terrified to slip, but you just know with his arm slinked around over you waist toying dangerously close to your cunt that there was no chance of slipping.

No chance of him letting you go.

A digit would brush up through your folds collecting the slippery production of your arousal, dragging his finger ever so carefully up until it traced around your clit. Circling it, dangerously so.

Applying pressure as the rough pad of his finger pushed against your clit, mouth devouring any noises you let out.

It hurt, in a way.

One that was so delicious you only wanted more.

His large finger pressing down on your clit felt heavenly, the feeling of his tongue pushing against yours as you swapped spit in the most degenerating fashion.

Your hips unconsciously pushed forward against his hand, bucking as he pressed you firmly against the wall.

He'd tsk, giving you a light scolding before removing his mouth from yours completely, allowing a thin strand of spit to cast its way from him lips to yours.

God.

You could just die.

He'd snicker, that snicker that made his lip quirk upward revealing his crooked tooth. All before he'd lean in and ask,

"What do you want me to do, Schatz?"

"Fuckkkk." You'd whine, letting your head bump against the shower wall. "Please." You'd whisper out.

"Hm?" He'd ask, still toying his finger around your clit.

"Finger me- fuck, please. Please finger me."

His finger would leave your clit, diving back down and just barely poking into your entrance.

The digit was long and thick- it felt like nearly two of your own being stuffed inside you. Even more so as the single digit could curl up in such a delectable manner pressing up against the spongey roof of your core.

You'd breathe harshly, ducking your head up against his neck and arm gripping at the expanse of his back and nails digging into the pale and freckled flesh.

He'd add a second digit, and you felt like you were on cloud nine.

No,

You felt like you were on cloud nine as he removed his free hand from you, bringing it down and rubbing on your clit as his other hand pumped mechanically in and out of you, curling his fingers forward and circling the pad of his finger against your clit.

It would feel like your legs would give out first, but he'd keep you upright as you came, his mouth would latch onto yours. Shoving his tongue into your mouth claiming you in the best way possible.

Body draped over yours, his large hands pleasing you to the point of competition-

Blinking, you realized there was no man draped behind you.

The water in the shower had run cold a long time ago, but the pleasant buzz in your head from your shameful masturbation numbed any embarrassment for a few moments.

You sighed, turning off the water and glancing down at your fingers.

For now? Thinking of his large hands would have to do.

#könig x reader #könig x you #mwii #call of duty mw2 #Konig x reader #konig x reader smut #konig imagine #Konig x Reader- Hands

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hellish-sunsets · 6 months

Note

If you’re still doing one shots could you do a lucifer x ShyFem!kitsune reader where she is a resident at the hotel and gets along really well with angel and charlie and she gains feelings for lucifer but is nervous since he still wears his wedding ring and when she’s gets too nervous she turns into her kitsune form with 5 tails

It’s alr if not take your time and get lots of rest 🫶🫶

I just wrote this out stream of consciousness style, enjoy!

Lucifer x Shy!Kitsune!Reader

- you joined the hotel because it seemed the... safest option, considering what the rest of Pentagram City was like. You quickly became friends with almost everybody, but especially Angel Dust and Charlie.

- You liked Lucifer well enough when you first met him, but those feelings only seemed to grow and become more complicated as time passed.

- Cause wow, there was so much to love! His devilishly good looks, smooth voice, dorky personality. He was so loving and strong and funny and... well, you could go on forever!

- But that didn’t matter, because he had a wedding ring on.

- Charlie didn't talk about her mom much, but of course she had one. You just assumed he was still married. It wasn’t cool to have a crush on a married man, who also happened to be your friends dad, so you kept it to yourself.

- Angel could tell anyways, especially when you started getting so nervous whenever he was around.

- He just needed to say hi or wave at you and poof, kitsune time.

- Angel thought it was hilarious. He laughed out loud the first time it happened. Lucifer was just talking with Charlie and passing by when he waved at you. You couldn't even wave back before you had transformed into your fox form, tails hiding your face while Angel laughed. He had looked confused, but Charlie was still going so he kept following her.

- Eventually, you decided you were going to ask him about the ring, figure out what situation was going on there. It didn't go well. Every time you tried to approach him, you just turned I to your fox form.

- Lucifer didn’t notice her much until the first time she had transformed around him. It caught him so off guard, he couldn’t help but pay attention.

- She seemed so friendly and supportive.

- She backed Charlie up when he wasn’t there and, unlike that Radio Demon fellow, she clearly meant it.

- It helped that Keekee seemed to always hang around her, especially in her kitsune form. Keekee was a good judge of character, he trusted that.

- He wanted to talk to her more. There were several times when he saw her approaching him and his heart jumped in his chest, but then she would transform from the anxiety and run away. How frustrating, for both of them...

- He finally got some alone time with her one day when he settled in the sitting room to wait for Charlie. She was already there, sleeping in her kitsune form, curled up on the couch with Keekee sleeping on top of her.

- He chuckled, it was so cute. And he shouldn't but...

- He reached out a hand to pet her soft fur.

- His touch woke her up and she jumped, staring him down with wide eyes.

- Shit, it was Lucifer! It felt like your heart was going to beat through your ribs, especially when he gave you such a soft smile and chuckled.

- "Sorry, sorry, you just looked so soft!"

- Eventually, he was able to calm her down enough to turn human. Well, human like.

- It was surprisingly easy to talk to him, now that you were here. It put your nerves at easy and gradually you were able to open up and talk more freely with him.

- Charlie was about to walk in, but angel grabbed her and pulled her aside. She was about to ask what was up but he shushed her.

- That's when she saw you and Lucifer talking and she understood.

- The two stalked off together, letting you two have space to continue talking.

- It was hours before Lucifer remembered why he was there in the first place. You both said bye and he rushed off to find Charlie.

- You probably should have asked him about the ring thing... ah well, now that you were comfortable in his presence you could talk more!

- You couldn’t help smiling the rest of the night, and Charlie noticed her dad seemed a lot cheerier.

#hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer magne #hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #reader insert #hazbin hotel reader insert #hazbin lucifer x reader

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saigethearies · 1 year

Text

(fem!reader, mentions of insecurity and self-consciousness)

sometimes you felt as if your boyfriend iwaizumi’s friends didn’t like you.

they always seemed to…laugh whenever you were around. you weren’t sure what was funny to them exactly but you couldn’t fight the feeling that you were the one being looked at as a joke.

you had begun to avoid being around iwa whenever you knew he was with his friends because you just couldn’t help how self-conscious you were becoming around them.

one friday afternoon, however, you found yourself heading towards the gymnasium. your boyfriend had promised a boba date once he was done with practice. he should be the only one left, since oikawa and him started to take turns on who was gonna stay longer to finish locking up.

“haji bear!” you chimed happily, almost skipping into the gym you were so excited.

unfortunately, instead of your boyfriend, you were met with the sound of someone snorting in amusement.

“haji bear?” makki questions between chuckles, mattsun and oikawa also bursting out into laughs beside him. “he actually lets you call him that?”

you shrunk in on yourself, that familiar sensation of insecurity swirling in the pits of your stomach. you hadn’t even been there for more than fifteen seconds and they were already laughing at you. again.

“what other pet names do you have for him? hajikins? haji pie?” mattsun asks, continuing off of the bit makki started.

“please, gentlemen, im sure she’s more creative than that,” oikawa said. “she probably has some nice rhyming ones that iwa-chan just loves.”

their chorus of chortles increased in volume, and you stood there feeling like a stupid and silly girl.

until they heard a small sniffle and every single one of them went silent.

the three men began to watch on as your eyes got glassy, shoulders starting to slightly shake.

“why do you guys- sniffle- always have to make fun of me?”

finally voicing the thought you’d kept to yourself for weeks had your tears streaming down your cheeks, eyes squeezed shut as little sobs left you.

that’s when the expressions on your onlookers faces turned into ones of horror.

you heard three bodies shuffling towards you, a pair of hands coming to rest on your shoulders and panicked voices sounding off around you.

“it’s not like that! we swear! we’d never try to make fun of you!”

“makki’s right! we’d never purposely make a sweet thing like yourself upset! promise!”

the hands on your shoulders gave a small squeeze. “what mattsun said, we weren’t trying to offend you, cutie! we just think it’s so funny someone as bubbly as you is dating someone as grumpy as our-“

“what the actual hell is going on here?”

the trio surrounding you froze, and everyone turned to look at iwaizuimi, signature scowl present on his face.

at the sight of tears on your face and the deer-in-headlights look all of his friends sported, however, his scowl nearly became a snarl.

“what did you three dumbasses do to her?”

oikawa released his hold on your shoulders immediately, having more familiarity with iwa’s wrath than anyone else. “just a little misunderstanding! that’s all!”

your boyfriend walked forwards, pulling you away from his teammates so that he could tuck you safely into his side. he immediately felt you hold onto his arm, small sniffles still being heard.

“and what exactly was this ‘misunderstanding’?”

“we heard her refer to you as haji bear and we laughed because we thought it was funny! that’s all!” makki answered in a rush, hands coming up as if in surrender.

“we weren’t intentionally trying to hurt her feelings, iwa, swear,” mattsun added.

“but we understand how our actions came across and take full accountability for accidentally bringing tears to eyes of lady iwa-chan!”

oikawa sounded out of breath by the time he was done talking, trying to come about the situation in the most emotionally intelligent way that he could to avoid getting smacked in the back of the head.

iwa regarded all of his friends carefully, each of them still looking incredibly nervous. he then turned his gaze to you, eyes meeting your still watery ones staring back up at him.

“they telling the truth, doll?”

you gave a small nod. “yeah, that’s pretty much what happened. i…i believe what they’re saying.”

you heard the three of them all sigh in relief. was your haji bear really that scary to them?

“we’re really sorry we upset you!”

“we weren’t making fun of you, pinky promise.”

“we just always find it funny how someone as sunny as you is doting on our grumpy iwa-chan.”

you gave them a small smile, a weight lifting off your shoulders now that you finally understood what was always so humorous to them. “apology accepted.”

you heard your boyfriend huff. “i guess it’s easy to judge my relationship when none of you have your own to worry about.”

the look of offense that flashed across the three faces in front of you almost had you laughing.

long story short, iwaizumi doesn’t let anyone mess with you.

not even his best friends.

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi #hajime iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu x reader

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otomes-world · 4 months

Text

Six impossible things before breakfast

Little twist with sentient twst au, yes, I didn't expect this either. Masterlist with more works here

We've probably all heard the joke about "How many light bulbs does it take to (insert whatever)." Who would have thought that you would use a slightly modified version of it: how many more coincidences must happen to realize the truth.

Although can anyone really blame you for not wanting to admit that you are a bunch of colored pixels created purely for entertainment purposes? No, it even sounds nice. After all, your purpose was to create extras, a stage on which the main characters performed and shone. Those who had faces.

Did you always have yours? Could you always see it in the mirror in the morning?

Did figurative shivers run down your spine every time a faceless classmate addressed you? One of ten, hundreds, exactly the same. Have the main bunch had the same problem? That's the question you'd been asking yourself lately. Did they shrug off empty, replaceable shells, or at least for a second consider them their equals?

Perhaps the question should have been asked differently. Was this in the order of things for them, because the thought of the incorrectness of worldly norms did not flash through their heads. Or it was something simple and very banal - they did not realize that they were part of the game.

Were you special? The thought was flattering, but it was stupid to start turning up your nose. Maybe the supreme programmer, like the smart guys from Ignihyde, could consider you a virus, a bug, an annoying nuisance, which can be gotten rid of in a couple of seconds. Click and that's it, your file would be deleted.

The idea that death could be more than just literal took you by surprise.

It all started with a strange feeling of déjà vu, with a strange cyclical nature of what was happening. How the seasons did not change according to the laws of nature or, on the contrary, lasted longer than expected. Sometimes you wondered what month was going on, at least by counting. Or how you couldn’t say with certainty what year of study you were in. When was your graduation? Would it ever come?

How many times did the main characters celebrate their birthday? How many times had you celebrated it? Did you celebrate it from the start?

Lessons

Breaks

Exams

Holidays

Lessons

Was there an end to this merging stream of eternal students? Was the dormitory assignment ceremony that important? How many real “first-year students” were admitted each year? Why couldn't your educational journey end? Time adjusted and obeyed an invisible force; it existed only when it was convenient for someone.

Catching the attention of the local spotlight and getting on stage was the best way to get labeled as a "bug" and ask to be removed. However, the main threat was only the erasure of memory.

The next discovery was doubt about one’s own “specialness.” When consciousness had nothing to do, it began to cling to different details, trying to look for differences in a series of events repeated in the film.

When you knew what to look for, small mistakes that were not noticeable at first glance stand out more than usual. A slight shadow of boredom on the faces of the main ones. Lack of interest in the educational process and exams. As if only one “exam” was important in a bunch of exactly the same events. When the first years of Heartslabyul signed a contract with Ashengrotto.

With new information in mind, it became easier to identify important “events” and track time based on them. By how many times they were repeated in the endless flow of time. Taking notes and somehow recording data was more dangerous than you thought, all that was left was to come up with methods known to you alone. For example, in a dorm room on the bedside table there was a cluster of glasses, each containing specific color of pencils.

Did your roommates start to think you were weird and obsessed with order and cleanliness? Their right. You didn't care what they thought, besides, they would forget about it with the coming of a new day.

In order not to completely go crazy, you began to peer into the “faces” of other students, trying to spot at least a feature that distinguishes one from another. Either this world was too lazy, creating copy after copy in every dorm, or there was no point in trying. If you somehow came to terms with the feeling of the meaninglessness of what was happening, then the appearance of one student in several places at the same time still caused rejection.

Disgusting

If this world was someone’s experiment, then why were events cyclical? If this was a cage, then where was the exit. If this was a prison, then who was being held in it?

You made a mistake in observing a person without magic from another world. Trying to figure out whether Yuu's "world" was truly different or just as much a part of predestination as everything around. Was “Yuu” really the main one or just an extra? You could have sworn they didn't have a face. At least such clear features as all the main ones. Just as there was no character, how in each of the repeating events they could behave differently.

It was a breath of fresh air in the routine of never-ending study. The watching of the only part capable of changing in the world, subject to the same rules.

That's why, when one of the main ones suddenly approached you, you thought you were dreaming. Whether it was possible to fall asleep in the simulation was another question. Usually you went to bed, closed eyes, only to open them the next second to the sound of the alarm clock.

"Can I help you with something?" You smiled politely, but was it worth it? Could the main bunch distinguish between persons different from their privileged group.

Hunt. Was that his name? You weren't completely sure. He was part of something forbidden, something to be avoided at all costs. Part of the three “don’ts”: don’t look for information;don’t mention; don’t give yourself unnecessary temptations. Returning to the present moment, he just looked into your eyes with his constant smile, as if trying to find confirmation of something.

Like a true NPC, you continued to stand, frozen in one position and waiting for his answer. Until awareness came as abruptly as his appearance in principle. He looked straight into your eyes. Could he see your face the same way you saw it in the mirror? How long ago? Could the rest of the main ones see you too?

A billion questions were spinning in head at the same time as you tried to come up with a suitable excuse and reason to leave. The changes turned out to be too unexpected and frightening. Perhaps with the advent of a new “day” everything would return to normal.

“Is there a knight in the world who is not ready to devote all his deeds to one and only one, if this opens the veil of secrets at least a little? Will it allow him to find out what thoughts are spinning in head?”

It's a pity he was not a knight. Even though each word was pronounced with a special intonation, you only thought about how much water there was in his speech. Unfortunately, saying this out loud was an unaffordable luxury.

"..Is that so?"

“You are right, an étoile (star), I may be not one of their noble number, but even so I am not able to deny their order.” You let him continue, mentally counting down the minutes until the bell rang for lesson. “I may not have a sword in sheath, but It won`t change a way I live! Your smile can make my whole heart melt. There isn't lie in way I felt”

“I’m not good at poetry, but the rhyme is lame, Sir Hunt,” if it’s there.

“You’re right, writing poems is just one of my hobbies, to which I devote my few free leisure hours,” he continued, as if your words didn’t hurt him at all. “I hasten to assure you that there was no malicious intent in my actions. This modest hunter only wanted to greet a new connoisseur of everything beautiful and interesting."

No matter how much you hate beating around the bush, doubts creeping in from randomly thrown words. Sometimes the phrases spoken directly were the most frightening. However, not wanting to part with your role as an extra - which was burdensome, but at the same time giving a semblance of freedom - you continued to pretend to be an NPC.

"Should I congratulate you?.. Congratulations!" Any member of the film club would envy your feigned sincerity. A bell in three, two, "I don’t dare detain you any longer.”

The unsaid `like you would me` hung in the air. You had to hold out for the few remaining hours until the end. Fortunately, the main one did let you go, but smile, saying that its owner knew everything in the world, left an unpleasant aftertaste. One that your intuition suggested would accompany you for the next days.

It's going to be a very long a few hours.

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21wanderer · 10 months

Text

Mason and the golden skin

A special thanks to @dulafer, who helped me come up with the idea after having hit a minor writer's block Body a day - #14: Battery

Mason had been envious of his classmate Chris since the first day he met him at Colchis University, so much so, that it had become an obsession. He envied him, he envied him so strongly that all he could think about was becoming him. Every thing about Chris, he desired and longed for, so much so that it became unbearable.

One of Mason’s former highschool classmates, Jed, was also studying at Colchis, studying both neurology and engineering. When Mason confessed his feelings towards Chris, Jed became lost in thought. The silence was eerie, but Jed was definitely contemplating Mason’s thoughts.

“If you really could switch places,” Jed said after the very long pause, “would you?” “Yes!” Mason blurted without hesitation. “Even if it meant giving your life to him?” Jed asked. Mason was a bit more reluctant this time, he hadn’t actually considered that, but if he had to swap places with Chris, it made sense, that Chris had to be somewhere else. But there would be no way, that Chris would ever accept that. “I’m sure, I’ll manage…” Mason said nonchalant.

Jed seemed very interested in the conundrum, but more out of curiosity than envy nor desire.

“If I come up with a solution – I want you to do something for me…” Jed said looking up at Mason. “What do you want?” Mason asked. “I want you, or rather you in Chris’s body as my boyfriend.” Mason blushed, “you have a crush on me?” “Maybe,” Jed answered clearly embarrassed and uncomfortable, not even looking at Mason anymore.

“Hey,” Mason began softly, breaking the awkward silence, he walked over to Jed, then pushed Jed’s chin up so that they had eye contact. “If you are really willing to do this for me… Then you might as well call me your boyfriend already,” he said, touched by Jed’s sentiment.

Two semesters later they came up with a prototype for a body-swapping device, technically it was a mind-swapping device. It would carry the full neurological pattern between two brains within a very short distance. Mason had to get Chris somewhere secluded, so that no interference was possible, and he had to take a clean shot. Jed was confident, it would work, but there were many potential risks. The device looked similar to a tablet with a camera attachment, except for the fact that the tablet part mostly consisted of batteries in a series. The device took an unbelievable amount of power, 75% of the device’s weight consisted of the batteries powering it.

Jed somehow managed to arrange a meeting with Chris at a remote part of campus. Mason wouldn’t have been successful if he had tried, after all Chris knew him, but Jed didn’t actually tell Mason, exactly how he managed to convince Chris to turn up at that place. But he did, and armed with the tablet-camera-thingy, Mason was prepared to welcome the unsuspecting Chris, who arrived on his bike.

“What are you doing here?!” Chris drawled as he noticed Mason, “is this some kind of joke?!”

Mason was nervous, almost afraid, but still infatuated and smitten with Chris. Mason let his envy consume him, he took some big steps directly towards Chris, aimed the device at his face, and pressed the button. There was a blinding light, and they both felt like they had been electrocuted, their bodies were shaking, but they couldn’t see anything.

Then Mason could see again, no longer blinded by the light, he could see himself, but from a taller perspective. He wasn’t looking in a mirror, the device had worked.

Mason’s body was still dazed and confused, the device fell out of his hand and hit the ground.

Mason was in awe. Chris’s body was all his, this perfect body was all his. He didn’t get to enjoy the moment for long however, he was ripped out by his stream of consciousness, when he heard his old voice shout at him: “What the hell have you done?!”

Chris had apparently already figured out exactly what had happened, there was a look of pure hatred in his eyes.

Mason’s body picked up the device. “You aren’t getting away with this. I’m gonna take my body back, and then… And then you won’t even live long enough to regret this!” Mason’s voice snarled, his words dripping with loathing and vindictiveness. Mason had a feeling something was wrong, he could smell burnt ‘something’, rubber or plastic maybe, the smell definitely came from the device, it was about to break down. Even a single use had put massive strain on the batteries, the device couldn’t handle another swap.

Mason in Chris’s body froze, blinded by the bright light, but also something else, it was like his mind was clouded by all sorts of unrecognisable impressions.

Mason’s body fell unconscious to the floor, but Mason was still looking at it from Chris’s perspective, he felt a bit of satisfaction seeing his former body collapse. But to make sure nobody would accuse him of anything, he picked up the foul-smelling device and stuffed it in Chris’s bag, then he begrudgingly called an ambulance. Then he went over to his unconscious body and more by instinct than choice began to perform CPR on it, then it dawned on him… He did not know, how to perform CPR, but Chris did. The faulty device must have transferred parts of Chris’s consciousness to him. He was still Mason at heart, he knew that much.

Mason’s body was taken away by the paramedics, as Chris explaining something about having witnessed Mason having a heart attack or something. With the ambulance gone, Mason could finally wrap his head around the other dramatic events. The faulty device had transferred Chris’s memories to him, he wouldn’t have any problem fooling everyone, he didn’t have to pretend to be Chris, he was Chris.

#body a day #male transformation #life takeover #body theft #male body swap #body swap #male body transformation #identity theft #stolen identity #nerd to jock #male body switch #body switch

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justanotherlifeff · 3 months

Text

Use of an unrequited love

Sukuna x reader [Final part of “Love is Meaningless” and “Posession”]

[Trigger warning: Kinda rapey and borderline non con. Sukuna is a red flag. Sukuna has some very backdated views on how women should dress. Sukuna is the trigger warning]

You always had these vivid dreams your entire life. Dreams that seemed awfully real despite being inexplicably blurry. You remember a time before you were born, before anyone you know existed. You remember a small hut, a decent family, a village full of friendly people. You remember a cave near the forests, the smell of homecooked food in a bento box, the sound of water at a passing by stream, the feeling of wet grass on your bare feet. You remember crimson eyes, a blurry figure, and an intense feeling of love. You remember so much, the sensations, the smell, the taste, and yet, you couldn’t remember who that man was, the one that took your heart for himself. You remember helplessness, fear, and pain from being stabbed and it all goes blank each time. And then, you woke up to face reality, as you always do after these dreams. However, this time you were looking into those crimson eyes that had always existed in those unreachable dreams.

You didn’t recognize where you were. The last thing you remembered was being hit in the head while trying to fight Sukuna after he took over Megumi’s body. However, you were definitely terrified, given the fact that in the traditional Japanese room with you was the king of curses himself, waiting for you to wake up with an unreadable expression on his face.

How adorable, he thought, when you regained consciousness and had that look of abject horror. To think you of all people would look at him this way someday. Fate truly was laughably cruel. “I won’t hurt you, brat.” He chuckled, finding your reaction hilarious, and yet, more painful than any wound he had ever suffered. To think, the woman who accepted him with open arms a thousand years ago looked at him like the curse he was. Didn’t he fall for you because you never looked at him this way back then? What even was left of that love you two had? “Where am I?” You asked him, your voice full of fear and surprisingly, intrigue. He didn’t quite understand your reaction. “I wondered, how I would react if I ever heard you say these words. Whether I would chop you to pieces for acting like I was some parasite possessing Itadori for so long. But I’m afraid, whoever decided to play this sick joke towards me were right about one thing. I cannot kill you.” Sukuna sighed. That expression confused you. What was that expression in his eyes? Was it… longing? Why was there this expression of profound loss in his eyes? Why did you see these eyes in your dreams?

“Why can you not kill me?” You asked, trying to get as much information as you could. Perhaps it would help you escape, perhaps it will help you understand his weaknesses. Or perhaps, you would understand if those dreams truly had any significance. You were grasping at any opportunity at this point. “Ryomen Sukuna never took in a wife and never had children, that’s what you humans were taught in history, correct?” He asked, the frown never leaving his lips. “Yes. Was this wrong?” You asked, definitely curious. This was huge information after all. “Heh. Wrong is an understatement. I had a wife who was going to give me an heir. Before I became the king of curses, when I was just a wretch, a worthless being in this worthless world. She was weak, pathetic even. Her humanity was what killed her. And with herself, she took away the child too.” He chuckled dryly, as if he was amused by the sheer audacity of the world. He didn’t care that the wedding never happened. That you died before he could make you his, before he could give you the happiness you deserved. You were his wife in that lifetime. He didn’t accept otherwise in his mind.

Ah, that sounded, awfully familiar. Yet, somehow, when you dared to look into Sukuna’s eyes as he spoke of that past that you dreamed of, you knew exactly who you were to him. What you didn’t know was how to feel about it. “Why are you making that expression?” Sukuna asked, raising an eyebrow at the shock in your eyes. He didn’t even tell you the whole thing yet so why were you so shocked? “Was I… her?” You asked him, not knowing what else to say. “You knew? Heh, you are a tricky one huh… How did you know? Well, I suppose that’s good since I wouldn’t have to waste my breath explaining things to you. I’m sure you realize exactly what I want from you, correct?” He had a smile on his face as he told you this, pleased that he wouldn’t have to speak of those complicated emotions. You never imagined you would see the king of curses make such an expression.

Saying no to him is a privilege in Sukuna’s views, and you didn’t earn that privilege yet. How could you? After all, in his views, you owe him far too much. You owe him his heir, you owe him your life, you owe him whatever humanity he had left in him before your death. However, he owed you everything he was. He became the King of Curses because of you and he was never one to forget ones who did him a favor. His power, his influence, everything happened because of you and he wasn’t one to stay indebted. As on que, you disappointed him yet again. “I don’t want this. You stand against everything I fight for. You have killed so many, you have massacred hundreds and thousands… I.. or to be more precise, my previous incarnation did not fall in love with this. I fell for a man who was ostracized by society because of the way he was born. I fell for a man who deserved to be treated like human. I didn’t fall for a monster.” Was your reply.

“Did you truly believe I care for your opinion? You’re mine. I won’t hurt you, not physically atleast, nor will I kill you but that doesn’t change the fact that I take what’s mine. So get this ridiculous notion out of your head that what you say, or what you want, matters to me. We could do this two ways. You can continue to reject me, defy me, and I will take away everything you care for one by one. I will kill your family, kill that pet dog you like so much, kill your friends, and kill other humans right infront of you so that I am all you have left. Or you could give in, forget about those foolish ideals you live for, and I would give you the world. I will personally make sure your family is not harmed and I will even bring that mutt to you. As for your friends and other people, I cannot make promises since your friends are my enemies. However, even a child can tell what the better option is.” Sukuna snapped at you, anger evident. How dare you defy him? How dare you try to take yourself away from him after he waited for a millennia?

He was right, you knew the better option. Reality was, you were selfish. Like all humans, you had your vices. Even now, you didn’t wish for your family to be harmed, and you knew that Sukuna was the type of man who keeps his promises. So you just looked away, and nodded, trading your friends, your companions for your family. You dreamed of a life where you would meet a good man, have a family. However, those dreams seemed like childish musings. Reality was always different, cruel. Just like how Sukuna’s satisfied smile looked more cruel than anything to you.

“Using your family works to convince you, even now… Even after what happened in your previous life.. How naive.. No matter, anyone who attempts to harm you or take you away will face a fate worse than death. Your weakness wouldn’t take you away anyone.” He said with a smile, cupping your cheek. It would sound romantic in normal circumstances but it wasn’t. You knew that your friends will attempt to save you and he would kill them. “I have restrained myself long enough. You have heightened my temptation all those months, dressing like a vulgar whore after all. Then again, all women seem to dress that way in this era. Take responsibility for your actions, woman” The smug smile on his faces told you what was about to happen. “Strip”, he commanded.

“Sukuna.. I don’t… Im not ready…” You tried protesting with a shaky voice much to Sukuna’s annoyance. “Cease your incessant whining. You’re alive because of those disgusting emotions you make me feel or you would be dead already for defying my orders. I will say this one last time. Or else, I will tear those clothes off you myself. Strip.” His voice rang, full of displeasure. With shaky hands, you complied. “Just as beautiful as I remember… I must thank whoever decided to play this cruel joke on me before killing them” Sukuna chuckled, moving close to you, eyeing your bare skin, his arms grabbing your waist to pull you closer. “Look at me” he commanded, using one hand to grab you by your cheeks and forcing you to look up at him. Without a word, he pulled you into a passionate kiss, savoring the taste of your lips like a starved beast. Even a millenia later, you tasted the same. Your lips felt the same, soft against his.

Yet, something was missing. He couldn’t quite figure out what as he pushed you down on the futon nearby. Something about you made this different, less pleasing, less fulfilling. The thought didn’t leave his mind even as he undressed, even as he lifted your legs up on his shoulder, spat on your cunt to make it wet and plunged his cock into you. The sounds you made, of pleasure and pain were the same. The moans, whimpers, calling his name out as you grabbed his forearms, scratched his back raw… it was all the same. Your insides were just as tight, as warm, just as pleasurable as he remembered. As he fucked into you, ramming his cock against your cervix, he ended up saying those dreaded words that he only uttered all those years ago.

“I love you. Fuck! Ill make you my queen. Ill give you the whole damn world at your feet. You feel like heaven on Earth, my love. I love you.” He groaned out in your ears, about to reach his release as the erotic sounds of your moans and whimpers of his name were music to his ears. Thats when he realized what was missing. You didn’t tell him you loved him back. Not once did you show any affection towards him. As he reached his release, filling you to the brim with his seed, he realized that you weren’t the woman who loved him despite him being a monster. You were simply someone who looked like her and shared her memories. You did not love him. Unfortunately, somewhere in his twisted heart, he desperately wanted to believe you would give in if he fucked you well enough. That you would become the woman who captured his heart and he could just continue on like nothing happened. Like you never died in that past life. However, reality was often disappointing.

Pulling out of you, he was lost for a moment as he got up and sat at the edge of the bed. After a moment, he spoke. “Leave, Y/N” he said, his voice hardened. “W-what?” You asked, panting and surprised by his words. “I will win this world first. And then I will win your heart again. So, leave. Spend time with those you care for because they may die when I conquer this world. You’re not the woman I fell for. Atleast, not yet.” Sukuna answered, not even giving you a glance. “You’re just letting me leave? Just like that?” You were shocked, wondering if this is some kind of trick. “What use do I have of a love that is not returned?” Sukuna chuckled dryly in answer.

#sukuna smut #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna

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nethhiri · 2 months

Text

Marooned: Chapter 51

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: Torture, rape, gang rape, murder, mutilation, body horror, graphic descriptions of all of the above. (🛑 This chapter is brutal. Please heed warnings. AO3 has more detailed warnings.)

Worst

There was a sharp pain in the side of your neck and dripping warmth trickling down the skin. Every thrust into you, the knife Warthin pressed to your throat left another furious scarlet line in the skin. You were afraid to breathe too deeply or move your head at all, fearing the blade would sink too close to major arteries. Breathing was already made difficult by the wad of fabric shoved in your mouth. Biting down on it was at least keeping your pained cries to a minimum.

It was impossible to take your mind out of the situation. There was too much adrenaline and anxiety flooding your body that you couldn't help but be self-conscious. You were painfully aware that you were being watched by people you cared about and that everything that happened to you would be seared into their memories. One thing that made it more bearable was the continuous stream of threats being screamed at Warthin by Kid. If you focused on Kid's voice, you could tune out the creaks of the bed or the grunts of your assailant. Although you weren't the one being yelled at right now, Kid yelling had been one of the constants in your life for the past few months. It was comforting.

Warthin wasn't pleased with your lack of reaction. He loved that Kid was pissed, but you seemed to be holding up, and he couldn't have that. He wanted you to squirm and resist, to scream through the muffling fabric. He wasn't concerned with preserving you anymore. He was going to do whatever he wanted to you, and then he was going to let his subordinates do the same thing, if you lived.

The sharp pain at your neck disappeared. As much of a relief as it was, you didn't like that now you had no idea where his knife was. It became apparent shortly where it was, when you felt an intense, ripping pain in your thigh. The chains rattled as you pulled your leg in reflexively. Even through the gag, your scream was audible. The veins in your neck popped out with its intensity. Fresh tears poured from the empty sockets in your head. Warthin repeated this again, leaving a trail of wounds down your thigh. There was a lightheaded feeling as you wavered in consciousness. The pain and the blood loss, along with the force of your screams had you on the edge of passing out.

Warthin groaned. "Good girl. Scream some more for me." He taunted the others, "I bet she never screamed like this for you."

Kid's infuriated reply was cut off by his own strangled gasp as he watched Warthin shove his thumb into the place your eye used to be.

The pain was so great, you turned your head, suppressing the urge to retch. If you threw up, you would aspirate, potentially drowning I your own vomit. It was a shock that you didn't pass out then. When you refocused, Warthin had pulled out. He wasn't finished either, and you didn't like what that could mean.

"Wait what am I doing?" Warthin mused. "If you can't give me what I want, why am I still fucking your cunt?"

Dread filled you. You shook your head and attempted to plead through your gag.

"Before my boys get ahold of you, I want to fuck your ass first." He chuckled. After all, it's my right as captain."

Now, you prayed you would lose consciousness soon. Part of you needed to be awake so you would know what was happening to you, yet the protective features of your brain screamed to shut down completely specifically so you didn't know what happened to you. The rims of your eyelids were dry as you ran out of tears. Your mouth felt like cotton, all the screaming and the fabric stripping it of moisture. The helplessness you felt was suffocating. No one was saving you from this but yourself.

You felt Warthin lean down, probably about to say something vile to you. With the last remaining shred of dignity and fight you had, you head butted him as hard as you could, your head the only thing that wasn't restrained. The force of it didn't knock you out, but it did knock out one of his teeth. After that, your wish was granted. In his fury, Warthin punched you with such force that you went limp with unconsciousness. Right before you blacked out, you could feel bones in your face crunch.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All the Kid Pirate officers were sickened by what they saw. They expected torture, and they expected some level of sexual violence, yet the sight of you in this state was horrifying, much worse than they thought. Rage-filled tears fell behind Killer's mask as he took in the multicolored bruises that covered your skin, focused around your face. Heat couldn't rest his gaze on you for longer than a few seconds at a time. Wire was frantically trying to get the device he and Kid created to lock on to the transponder snail's signal. Kid had never felt this livid in his life. He was going to turn this monster into a fine mist of blood. Pieces of him would be so small, ants wouldn't be able to find him.

Killer and Kid had been instructed by Wire to keep the guy talking. Wire wasn't sure how long it would take to get the signal or if Warthin would stay on the line long enough. By the time they actually had what they needed, they didn't want to stay on the line, yet they had to, all because of Kid's big mouth. Now that he had revealed the truth behind the lie keeping you alive, there would be a race against time. Or it could all be over. Warthin could kill you whenever he wanted.

Kid's heart dropped when he realized that he had fucked up. If you died, your blood would be on his hands, a layer of fresh red crimson over the brown, long-crusted over blood of Victoria. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he wasn't able to prevent the death of someone he loved a second time. But what if you lived and resented him for his indiscretion. Could he live with that? Kid would rather you lived and hated him than see you dead. He just hoped that if you got through this alive, that you could forgive him. Watching what he had caused, he didn't think he could forgive himself.

They watched as you trembled with fear, trying to keep a brave face while you told them that it was okay for them to abandon you. It only cemented their will to get you back. They wanted to see you be vulnerable with them, but not like this, never like this. Your words affirming your affections for them had different meanings for Kid and Killer than for Heat and Wire, however they held equal power over each of them. None of them would let Warthin go unpunished.

Kid screamed threatening promises until his voice became hoarse. He wanted to egg on Warthin, maybe he could get him to direct his attention away from you. His heart was being chipped away at with every second you suffered in silence. They were all trying to leave their eyes facing you without perceiving the acts being forced on you. It turned all of their stomachs. It was a quick motion, Warthin stabbing you, so quick that they didn't know you had been harmed until your piercing scream ripped through the screen. Killer instinctively reached for Kid's hand for support, his tears slipping from the bottom of his mask to leave silver trails down his neck. Wire noticeable flinched and Heat had to will himself not to look away.

Kid's jaw ached with the force he was gritting his teeth together. He watched spattering trails of scarlet fling through the air with each arc of Warthin's knife as he plunged it into your flesh. His eyes went wide, mid-threat, as he saw Warthin force his thumb into your eye socket. He cringed when he saw your body try to fold in on itself in self-preservation. The sound of the chains pulling taut was going to haunt him just as much as your cries of agony. Kid could tell you were at your breaking point. None of them had seen you this far into despondency, slipping further as Warthin was about to sodomize you. There was a brief moment in time where they all brightened, seeing a familiar combative presence within you. It was short lived as you slammed your head into Warthin's before being subdued. They watched as your body relaxed into unconsciousness, head lolling to the side. On one hand it was a relief to see you leave your body before anything worse was done to it; on the other hand they would still have to watch it be defiled.

"You little cunt!" Warthin growled and rubbed his head. "I'm sure you all stretched this whore out for me." Warthin's hands gripped your thighs and pushed them apart as far as the chains allow.

Kid wanted to lash out at him, and was ready to, until Wire kicked him. He bit his tongue. Anything he said could be an excuse to do something worse to you at this point. He and the rest of the men next to him flinched when, even through unconsciousness, you grimaced as Warthin entered you.

A barely audible whine left you as Warthin fucked into you. He laughed. "This is nothing. Just wait until your old crew get their hands on you." He redirected his attention to his audience. "But that shouldn't be a problem right? I'm sure she's been filled with cocks before. It's all she's good for really."

The edge of the table under Kid's grip splintered. His orange eyes were an inferno as he watched Warthin leave red, raw bite marks across your chest. The marine wrapped your hair around his fist and pulled, causing your head to be yanked forward at an awkward angle, to give himself more leverage. He fucked your body at a brutal pace. Killer didn't overlook the sight of blood at the base of Warthin's cock. The first mate silently prayed that Wire could get them there in less than a day. Tears ran down Heat's face as Warthin positioned his knife over you.

Warthin looked at them. "You all don't have much to say. You must like watching another man rape your toy." He spun the knife around in his hand and pressed the handle against your folds. He pumped the handle into you a few times and took it back out, flipping it again so the sharp end was pointed at you. "I wonder... maybe I should make her a little wider, so she can accommodate all my men." He brought the very tip of the knife within millimeters of your cunt.

"DON'T!" Kid couldn't bear to see that.

Warthin gave them a smug look, halting his thrusts to stick his fingers into your pussy and stretch it open. "Even being ran through this pussy is so little. Poor thing is going to be ripped and torn." He snickered and paused, like he remembered something. He pointed at Killer. "You. I can't see your eyes." He gripped your breast and put his knife under it, slicing deep enough to get into the yellow fat under the skin.

Killer understood the threat immediately and didn't hesitate for even a millisecond before yanking his helmet off. It clattered to the floor with the force of how quickly he took it off.

Warthin took the blade from your breast and instead rested it at your shoulder, dragging it down and back up again in a zig zag pattern.

"STOP! I took the mask off!"

"Good job, you saved her tit. I'm still going to make sure you know who she belongs to now."

Dripping red lines made a 'V' on half your chest. As Warthin continued, he braced his hand on top of your ribcage, sliding his fingers into the slit he made on the underside of your breast. He groaned as he continued to sodomize you and carve his initial into your chest. The crimson droplets spilling down your skin made his balls tighten. A weeping red 'W' now sat in the center of your chest, from shoulder to shoulder. He tossed the knife aside and plunged his finger into the cut surface, swiping it along one line and licking off the blood. He re-coated his fingers with your life's essence and plunged them into your cunt, furiously pumping them in time with his cock in your ass. He leaned down and slid his tongue into the slit under your breast, sucking at the blood that trickled from the incision. Warthin groaned as he lapped at the blood oozing from his artwork. His breath became ragged and his hips stuttered as he let out a final grunt.

He rolled off you and let out a satisfied sigh before walking to and bending down closer to the transponder snail. "While it would be entertaining to let you watch her with my men, I can't let you in on all the fun. You're going to have to wonder what they're doing to her." He looked back at you and to the camera again. "She's not gonna last more than a night." The man grinned at them.

"I WILL TEAR YA LIMB FROM LIMB JUST YA WAIT!" Kid's threat was cut off as Warthin killed the feed. Kid turned to Wire with angry, watery eyes. "Please, Wire. Tell me ya got the location."

Wire was frowning. "I did." Wire was deeply unsettled by the things he saw, by how far these people were willing to go to harm you. "It's a few days away." His somber eyes met Kid's. "Captain, I don't-"

"SHUT UP! We'll make it there faster." Kid was talking to Wire, but also to his own thoughts, which ventured deeper into dark territory.

Heat ran out of the room and vomited over the guard rail. He felt dirty and ashamed for watching what had happened to you even though he didn't have a choice. Wire followed after him.

Kid sat on his desk with a defeated look on his face. Killer placed himself between Kid's knees and rested his head on his captain's shoulder. Kid put a protective arm around his friend as he felt Killer begin to shake and Kid's shirt became wet. Kid rubbed Killer's back and rested his own head against Killer. Neither of them could truly comfort the other because neither of them fully believed they were going to get you back after watching that. There was no question that they were going to get you back. They didn't want to accept that there was a possibility they wouldn't get you back alive, though both had the thought that the least they could do was lay you to rest away from the people you hated the most, if it came to that.

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No different than any of the other times you had woken up in a cell, every inch of your body ached. Ached wasn't the right term. It was on fire, it seared you to the bone, it felt like you were being ripped apart at every joint, like a ship was dropped on you. You were afraid to move, if you even could move. You felt like you would fall apart. Your wrists were still shackled, connected by a chain that was fastened to the wall over your head. Your legs were chained together at the ankles, but not attached to anything. If they were, it would make it too difficult to rape you, and they couldn't have that, now could they?

After the initial shock of the pain that hit you when you woke up, you could tell that you were turned to face the wall. You could tell because you felt the skin of your already-broken face be eroded away by the rough stone wall as someone pushed your head into it while taking you from behind. There were snickers and cheers from others in the room. You gave no inclination that you were awake. They couldn't tell anyway because your eyes were gone. A few times you winced, though everything hurt so badly, you were desensitized to new pain. You couldn't see them, but you could tell by their taunts that they were remnants of your old crew. They were drunk and reeked of sweat and stale beer. You didn't even think the one that was inside you was fully hard.

"You can't even get it up. Let me have a turn." There was a trade-off and new hands were on your hips. "I've always wanted to fuck you. Too bad Captain ruined you for the rest of us." The voice was next to your ear. "You used to be so pretty." A shudder gave you away. "Hey, are you awake?" There was a rough pinch of your nipple and you yelped. "You are!"

There was another sarcastic voice next to you. "Captain Y/N, we missed you so much." His breath stank of booze.

There were hands all over your body, prodding into wounds that had only just scabbed over. You didn't allow them the satisfaction of a reaction. They were all drunk and tired. They would leave you alone soon enough. You only had to endure it for about ten more minutes. After the last of them finished, a hand grabbed your chin and tilted it up. You felt the rim of a beer bottle against your lip.

"I bet you're thirsty. Go ahead. Have some."

You were thirsty. Beer wasn't ideal, but it was something. You felt the bottle tip up and you gulped down the liquid. After the first mouthful, there was a chorus of laughter and you realized that it was warm and salty. It wasn't beer at all. You felt yourself get hot with shame, gagging. If you had any tears left, they would be falling. There was urine dripping down your face and the front of your body. Then you felt splashing by your feet and something being pressed to your cunt.

"You should have poured it on her. Stupid piss-drinking cum dump."

You squirmed as what you assumed was the beer bottle, judging by the size, was pushed inside you. You whimpered at the foreign feeling. All of them were laughing at you, mocking you. You turned to vomit. Everything that had been in your stomach, which wasn't much, had been retched up. Even after nothing came out, you still dry heaved. Their laughter disappeared down the hall and only then did you tearlessly sob.

Eventually the bottle fell out and shattered around your feet. If you picked your feet up, you would step on broken glass, so you shuffled them, knocking the glass away from your feet. In your movements to get comfortable, there was an odd sound, like metal grinding against something. You moved again. There it was. The chains rattled and that noise, you were used to. This was slightly different and was coming from the direction in which your chains were attached. You pulled on the chains that were attached to your wrists. There was a metallic whine. Following the chains with your hands, standing on your tip toes, you felt where the chain was anchored to the wall. The bracket was loose. The metal was rough. You brought your fingers to your nose. It smelled of rust.

You ran your hands around the area, trying to build a picture of your immediate surroundings in your head. You focused specifically on the gap in the stone where the chain was anchored. The bracket barely had any smooth areas, and you could feel it flake between your fingers. The corners of your mouth tilted upwards as you recalled Kid's lessons in metalworking. This was 'shit-quality' metal. You tested the chains, pulling them as hard as you could. They didn't budge. Instead, the shackles were starting to skin your hands.

Someone was coming. You dropped your body weight, letting your head flop forward, giving the impression that you weren't awake or too weak to stand. Several minutes later, there were footsteps in front of your cell. They paused and something was said, which you couldn't make out, and they continued on their path. You thought for a moment. How did you know someone was coming if you only heard the footsteps a few seconds before they appeared? You didn't dwell on it. You didn't have the time.

Your upper body might have had the strength to break free, not in this condition, however. You tugged your hands until the chain between them and the wall was taut. This would take a lot of core strength, and if you couldn't do it in one shot, you weren't going to be able to try again. Every fiber in your body was begging you to stop before you hurt yourself even worse. You could feel cold sweat manifest as fever inched into your body. You worked your feet up the wall slowly, wincing as some of the glass that made its way into your foot, pressed in deeper. Your full weight was suspended between your feet and the chain. You worked your feet up further, the goal to place your body perpendicular to the wall. You were panting heavily and your muscles burned. The leg that had been stabbed was throbbing, quivering more than the other. There was a tearing pain as some wounds reopened but you pushed it aside. By the time you made it into position, your entire body was shaking, about to give up. Your knees were bent and you had pulled the chains over one of your shoulders, bracing against it. The bracket in the wall protested as you started to push off with your legs and your shoulder screamed as the chains dug in. You pushed harder, sweat dripping from your forehead and thighs quivering as the muscles within ran out of energy. You gave it one last push, straining so hard that blood was pushed into your face. Then there was nothing, no resistance.

Chains hit the floor with a jingle. You landed hard on top of them, biting your tongue and landing on scattered glass. It hurt like hell, but you were laughing maniacally. You were unbound. Still, shackled, still, freer than you had been. Now, you ignored the pain, easier due to the flood of adrenaline that rushed into your blood. Finally, your body decided to fight. You felt around until your fingers brushed a skinny shard of glass. Pushing yourself up, you carefully repositioned the lose bracket so that it appeared nothing had happened, and hid the glass in the palm of your hand. Then, you waited.

The passage of time was difficult to measure, as it had been this entire time. Something tickled your brain to be more alert. Nothing, then murmurs, then footsteps, and then the creak of the cell door. The lewd threats and mocking didn't even reach you. The bloodlust that rolled off you was a buffer. You waited until they were close enough to feel their body heat, then you struck. The first man dropped when you lodged the glass into the side of his neck. You don't know how you were able to strike so accurately, muscle memory perhaps. You could tell there were more. One? No, two. You waited to the last second to react. Was it instinct that moved you out of the way? You jumped on his back and brought the chain connecting your wrists around his throat, pulling up, simultaneously stepping on his head to keep him down. You could hear him gurgle and sputter. The hair on your neck stood up a second before you were tackled by the remaining marine. Before you hit the ground, you were grabbing for his face. You pressed your thumbs into his eyes to even the playing field, grinning when you felt the jelly under your pads. The hands that he had around your throat went to cover his face, while yours felt around the floor until you found more glass. It dug into your hand as you tore it across his throat, feeling a hot spray on your face. There was a shuffling noise as the second marine stumbled towards you again. You kicked the other marine off you and rolled to avoid getting stepped on. You swept your leg in the direction of crunching glass, lunging in the direction of the thump that followed. Your hands found the man's throat as you climbed on top of him and pressed the chain into him once more. Pushing your entire body weight into the chain, you laughed as he sputtered and choked. They shouldn't have given you a tool. They shouldn't have fucked with you.

When you felt the rest of his life drain from him, you started stripping his clothing off. You wanted to cover your nakedness, more than that though, you were looking for any weapons they may have had on them. If they did, they were stupid for not using them. It became apparent that you couldn't actually put the clothes on correctly. The chains were in the way. Improvising, you tied one jacket around your front and one around your back, like a really shitty tube dress. Then you started tearing shreds from the remaining cloth, tying them around the wounds that had reopened. The adrenaline was wearing off, with that, the deep stab wounds in your thigh began to ache.

While you were crawling over the floor, your hand landed in something wet. Lifting it to your face, it smelled like iron. You felt the puddle out with your hand until it went to the source. They were right when they were torturing you. You were thirsty. It was made worse by the episodes of vomiting. You gulped as you felt the glass shard sticking out of the marine's throat. Around its base, you could feel a warm trickle. Was it crossing the line? The feeling of the drips coming off your fingers made you salivate, wetting your bone-dry throat. Fuck it. I'm crossing the line today. You yanked out the shard of glass lodged in the side of the neck and replaced it with your mouth, greedily swallowing the still-warm liquid. It wasn't refreshing, and it may irritate your stomach to the point of throwing up again, but it was instant relief in this moment. You pulled away, dripping blood from your mouth, gasping and sitting back on your heels. You were a murderer. Who gives a shit if you were a little bit of a cannibal in dire circumstances?

You pushed yourself back until your spine met the wall, fanning the glass away from where you sat. In the stillness, you could feel pieces of glass embedded in your flesh from the scuffle. You leaned your head back. The wetness on your chest increased. It should have been drying. What you thought was wetness from blood coating your chest was sweat pouring from your skin. It dripped down your neck and between your breasts. You thought the heat was from the rigorous activity of fighting, though it was becoming clear that the slight fever developing had caught and was raging. Every inch of you was sweating. Your hands felt over your body and you winced as they ran over puffy, tender, oozing flesh. The biggest threat to you now was infection.

It was a struggle to stay awake. If you fell asleep, you were leaving yourself open to be attacked. You hadn't moved from the spot you had settled in, your body back to sounding alarm bells every time you shifted your weight. It was the fever making your brain misfire. Every time you thought of those marines that signed their own death certificate, you started to laugh. No one came into your cell again. They saw what you had done, still chained, and were too afraid to step in. Warthin himself came to see the damage. One look at you, where multiple sites on your skin were turning green and black, and he decided to let sepsis take you. He could shoot you in the head, but that was too quick of a death. This had far more suffering involved.

Even at your rock bottom, you still had three stinky, decomposing friends to keep you company.

"We're sorry Y/N. Can you forgive us?"

"No."

"What if we told you where the keys to your cuffs were?"

"I'll think about it."

"Do you really think you could make it out alone? With those wounds?"

"I will level this place."

"What about your friends?"

"What about them?"

"You're almost as dead as us. You think they'll want a heap of rotting flesh, with a consciousness hanging on by a thread?"

You didn't respond.

"You're filthy. You're disgusting. You're a used piece of trash." The voices started to morph into the voices of Kid and Killer. "Whore. Ya think yer good enough for the Pirate King? You're a toy and nothing more. Especially now. Look at ya. Pathetic. Weak."

"STOP! SHUT UP!"

The voices left you alone with your thoughts, which weren't much better. The flame of life within you was slowly being dampened by the toxins in your blood. It wouldn't be long before your blood pressure tanked and your organs started to fail. Your kidneys were probably already in the first stages of failure, though it was difficult to say whether the lack of pee was from that or your severe dehydration. Both, if you had to guess.

At your side, you gripped a shard of glass so tightly, it was cutting into your hand. There was dried blood around it, as you had been holding it for some time. There was that itch in your brain again and your grip tightened. Someone was coming. There were a lot of someones scattered around. Why were there so many? Why did you know that? The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you felt someone approach, someone that had bloodlust and violence seeping out of them. Maybe two? Hard to say since their raging auras melded together. You dropped your head, assuming the same passed out position that you had before. You were hyper-focused on their positions, blocking out everything else. There was no way you would be able to take whoever it was, not when they felt like this. But maybe if you could get one swift stab in the right place...

As soon as you felt them get close enough, you slashed at them. There was no connection. You slashed again, this time your wrist was caught. You released your makeshift weapon and caught it with your other hand, aiming to try again. You felt the shackle around your wrist get suspended, stopping your hand firmly in its place. You tugged furiously trying to get away and realized that nothing was happening to you. You were only being immobilized. Then, your senses came out of fight mode and you could hear yelling.

"IT'S ME! IT'S ME! STOP!"

"Liar!" "He's lying!" "Kill him!" The chorus of voices came from your cellmates. No, they were imagined, auditory hallucinations. Fuck, did your head hurt.

"Easy," a second, calmer voice said. "It's okay. We're here."

The hand that was caught first was placed against something smooth and cold, something with evenly spaced holes. Your wrist was cautiously released and you moved your hand around, finding a helmet with some scruff sticking out of the bottom. "Killer?" The shackles containing your wrists dropped to the floor and your other hand was placed on something half-buried in hair, some rectangles, a triangle in the middle. You moved your hand to where you thought you might find scars, feeling the two that ran down your captain's face. "Kid?" You spoke so softly that they could barely hear.

Tag list: @bbnbhm @nocturnalrorobin

#that was rough but now we get to kill- as a treat :3 #last dark chap for reader #just the beginning for our friends in white >:3 #one piece #eustass kid #massacre soldier killer #marooned #x reader #killer x reader #eustass kid x reader #kid x reader x killer

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